Strategies For Peace

Strategies of Peace
STUDIES IN STRATEGIC PEACEBUILDING
Series Editors
R. Scott Appleby, John Paul Lederach, and Daniel Philpott

The Joan B. Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies
University of Notre Dame
Published in the Series
STRATEGIES OF PEACE
Transforming Conflict in a Violent World
Edited by Daniel Philpott and Gerard F. Powers
Strategies of Peace
Transforming Conflict in a Violent World
Edited by
DANIEL PHILPOTT
and
GERARD F. POWERS
2010
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Strategies of peace / edited by Daniel Philpott and Gerard F. Powers.
p. cm.—(Studies in strategic peacebuilding series)
ISBN 978-0-19-539591-4; 978-0-19-539590-7 (pbk.)
1. Peace-building. I. Philpott, Daniel, 1967–
II. Powers, Gerard F.
JZ5538.S7427 2010
303.6´6–dc22 2009013416
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Printed in the United States of America
on acid-free paper
To Fr. Theodore M. Hesburgh, C.S.C., with
undying gratitude
To Mrs. Joan B. Kroc, in loving memory
Your vision, magnanimity, and generosity
made the Kroc Institute a living reality
This page intentionally left blank
Acknowledgments
This volume is the result of conversations that have taken place over
several years at the Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies at
the University of Notre Dame. The papers were initially presented at a
conference to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of the Kroc Institute,
“Strategic Peacebuilding: The State of the Art,” on November 5–7,
2006. The editors thank the Kroc Institute for its financial, logistical,
and intellectual support. Colette Sgambati Potts was particularly help-
ful in arranging the authors’ meetings, in which crucial planning
took place. For helpful assistance in editing, we thank Cathy Laake,
Wing Wong, Alicia Quiros, Caitlin Foster, Andrew Masak, Diana
Philpott, Anna Zaros, and John Ashley. We also thank Theo Caldera-
ra and Linda Donnelly at Oxford University Press for their invaluable
editorial support.
Contents
Contributors, xi
Introduction: Searching for Strategy in an

Age of Peacebuilding, 3
Daniel Philpott
1. Strategic Peacebuilding: An Overview, 19
John Paul Lederach and R. Scott Appleby
2. Strategic Peacebuilding: Concepts and Challenges, 45
Peter Wallensteen
3. The Evaluation of Peacebuilding Initiatives: Putting
Learning into Practice, 65
Hal Culbertson
4. Reconciliation: An Ethic for Peacebuilding, 91
Daniel Philpott
5. Whose Strategy, Whose Peace? The Role of International
Institutions in Strategic Peacebuilding, 119
Simon Chesterman
6. How Strategic Is UN Peacebuilding? 141
Nicholas Sambanis
7. Targeted Sanctions, Counterterrorism, and Strategic
Peacebuilding, 169
George A. Lopez and David Cortright
x CONTENTS
8. Peace and Justice? The Contribution of International Judicial

Processes to Peacebuilding, 189
Robert C. Johansen
9. Human Rights and Strategic Peacebuilding: The Roles of Local, National,
and International Actors, 231
Naomi Roht-Arriaza
10. Economic Globalization and Strategic Peacebuilding, 247
Jackie Smith
11. The Response Imperative: Tensions and Dilemmas of Humanitarian
Action and Strategic Peacebuilding, 271
Larissa Fast
12. Turning from Hatred to Community Friendship: Forgiveness Education
as a Resource for Strategic Peacebuilding in Postaccord Belfast, 291
Robert D. Enright, Jeanette Knutson Enright,
and Anthony C. Holter
13. Religion and Peacebuilding, 317
Gerard F. Powers
Conclusion: Strategic Peacebuilding beyond the Liberal Peace, 353
Oliver P. Richmond
Index, 369
Contributors
R. SCOTT APPLEBY is Professor of History and John M. Regan Jr.

Director of the Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies at the
University of Notre Dame.
SIMON CHESTERMAN is Global Professor and Director of the New
York University School of Law Singapore Program and Associate
Professor of Law at the National University of Singapore.
DAVID CORTRIGHT is Director of Policy Studies at the Kroc Insti-
tute for International Peace Studies at the University of Notre Dame.
HAL CULBERTSON is Executive Director of the Kroc Institute for
International Peace Studies at the University of Notre Dame.
JEANETTE KNUTSON ENRIGHT is Educational Consultant with the
International Forgiveness Institute in Madison, Wisconsin.
ROBERT D. ENRIGHT is Professor in the Department of Educational
Psychology at the University of Wisconsin–Madison and a board
member of the International Forgiveness Institute in Madison.
LARISSA FAST is Assistant Professor in the Department of Soci-
ology and the Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies at the
ANTHONY C. HOLTER is on the faculty of the Mary Ann Remick Lead-
ership Program in the Alliance for Catholic Education and Concurrent
Assistant Professor of Psychology at the University of Notre Dame.
ROBERT C. JOHANSEN is Professor of Political Science and Senior
Fellow at the Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies at the
JOHN PAUL LEDERACH is Professor of International Peacebuilding
at the Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies at the University
of Notre Dame.
xi
xii CONTRIBUTORS
GEORGE A. LOPEZ is the Rev. Theodore M. Hesburgh, C.S.C., Professor

of Peace Studies at the Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies at the
DANIEL PHILPOTT is Associate Professor in the Department of Political
Science and the Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies at the University
of Notre Dame.
GERARD F. POWERS is Director of Catholic Peacebuilding Studies at the Kroc
Institute for International Peace Studies at the University of Notre Dame and is
Coordinator of the Catholic Peacebuilding Network.
OLIVER P. RICHMOND is Professor in the School of International Relations,
University of St. Andrews, and Director of the Centre for Peace and Conflict
Studies.
NAOMI ROHT-ARRIAZA is Professor of Law at the University of California,
Hastings College of the Law.
NICHOLAS SAMBANIS is Professor of Political Science at Yale University.
JACKIE SMITH is Associate Professor in the Department of Sociology and
the Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies at the University of Notre
Dame.
PETER WALLENSTEEN is the Richard G. Starmann Sr. Research Professor
of Peace Studies at the Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies at the
University of Notre Dame and the Dag Hammarskjöld Professor of Peace and
Conflict Research at Uppsala University, Uppsala, Sweden.
Strategies of Peace
Introduction: Searching
for Strategy in an Age of
Peacebuilding
Daniel Philpott
The most recent generation in global politics might well be called

the “age of peacebuilding.” What merits the moniker is an intense,
diverse, and global wave of efforts to end the violence and colossal
injustices of civil war, genocide, dictatorship, and large-scale pov-
erty and to foster justice and prosperity in their stead. Since 1988,
the United Nations (UN) has undertaken peacebuilding operations
in revolutionary number and frequency. Since the end of the Cold
War, an unprecedented number of civil wars have ended through
negotiated settlements. A “third wave of democracy,” beginning in
1974, has seen some eighty societies move toward human rights,
democracy, and the rule of law.1 Everyone, it seems—from the UN
to the World Bank to the World Social Forum to relief and devel-
opment agencies—has pursued ambitious quests to end poverty.
Transitional justice has become a global pursuit, involving variously
national trials, vetting practices, international criminal tribunals,
a permanent International Criminal Court, over thirty truth com-
missions, an outbreak of reparations and public apologies, and
sometimes forgiveness in the political realm. Western states have
struggled to establish security and the rule of law in sites of violence
and anarchy—the United States in Somalia, Afghanistan, and Iraq;
Germany in Afghanistan; and the European Union (EU) in Kosovo
and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Human rights organizations,
religious institutions, tribal elders, and citizens of domestic societies
have sought to resolve and transform conflict in innovative ways, too.
But if this montage of energies describes a trend, so too it evokes
urgent questions. Are all of these efforts truly ones of peacebuilding?
Which have been successful? Under what conditions are they
4 STRATEGIES OF PEACE
successful? Which are just? By what criteria? Do some of these efforts affect
others, positively or negatively? Most of all, are there concepts, doctrines, or
paradigms that tell us how peacebuilding ought to be pursued?
The dominant thinking is the “liberal peace”—dominant in that it per-
vades the most powerful and prestigious institutions and governments who
take on the work of peacebuilding.2 Its aims are simple and familiar: to end
armed violence and to establish human rights, democracy, and market econo-
mies. Its intellectual provenance is the liberal tradition that arose from the
Western Enlightenment. It envisions the UN, outside intervening states, state
governments, and oppositional factions, undertaking mediation, military inter-
vention, war settlement, disarmament, election monitoring, refugee resettle-
ment, and the creation of free government institutions, free markets, and a free
media. A cardinal virtue is finitude: when will the operation end?
Such an approach is far too narrow, this volume argues. None of the
authors herein rejects human rights, democracy, economic growth, or the
United Nations. But the building of peace, we propose, is far wider, deeper, and
more encompassing and involves a far greater array of actors, activities, levels
of society, links between societies, and time horizons than the dominant think-
ing recognizes. It involves the United Nations carrying out sanctions against
terrorist groups in a way that also promotes good governance, human rights,
and economic development in the countries where the sanctions are targeted.
It involves coordinating the international prosecution of war criminals with the
need to settle a civil war and the efforts of local cultures and leaders to bring
peace. It involves educating the children of the next generation so as to trans-
form their hatred into tolerance and even friendship. It involves nongovern-
mental organizations (NGOs) and civil society. It involves religious actors,
who are all but ignored in most current thinking on peacebuilding. It involves
combating inequalities that are embedded in global structures of power and
wealth. It involves trials, truth commissions, and reparations, and also apology,
forgiveness, and rituals of reconciliation. Not only is the broad range of these
players, practices, and periods crucial for achieving a sustainable peace, each
is linked to others through cause and effect, for better or for worse. Effective
peacebuilding, it follows, aims to strengthen these ligatures of interdepend-
ence, accenting, deepening, and synchronizing them, and linking them further
with the efforts of governments and international institutions and with the
broad project of building a just peace in and between societies. Any particular
effort at such strengthening may be called a strategy of peace.
What follows in the rest of this introduction is a brief analysis of the liberal
peace and its critics—not because strategic peacebuilding merely defines itself
against the liberal peace but because the concept becomes clearer when situ-
ated in the global conversation about peacebuilding. Prominent criticisms of
the liberal peace as well as movements within the liberal peace indeed point
in the direction of strategic peacebuilding. Next comes a deeper definition
and description of strategic peacebuilding. The introduction closes with a con-
ceptual map of the volume that shows how the chapters both reflect strategic
peacebuilding as well as advance it through strategies of peace.
INTRODUCTION 5
The Liberal Peace and Its Critics
When, in 1989, four decades of worldwide ideological rivalry came to an end,

the global consensus on human rights, democracy, and free markets sharply
expanded as did possibilities for cooperation in the UN Security Council—a “new
world order,” U.S. President George H. W. Bush called it. Meanwhile, large-scale
ethnic conflicts raged around the world,3 and a form of violent and impoverish-
ing anarchy known as the “failed state” became prevalent. This was a world that,
to paraphrase Voltaire’s description of the Holy Roman Empire, seemed neither
new nor global nor particularly orderly. These two divergent trends converged as
supply and demand to yield what is known as the UN Revolution, an intense spate
of efforts by the Security Council and its authorized agents to bring peace and
relief to sites of calamity. Between 1987 and 1994, the Security Council increased
its resolutions by four times, its peacekeeping operations by three times, its eco-
nomic sanctions sevenfold, its military forces in the field from 10,000 to more
than 70,000, and its budget for peacekeeping from $230 million to $3.6 billion.4
Of its fifty-five peace operations since 1945, forty-one (75%) began after 1989.5
Between 1989 and 1999, it sent out thirty-three peace operations, more than
double the fifteen missions it had conducted during the previous four decades.6
Between 1989 and 2005, it conducted twenty-two “post-conflict peacebuilding
operations”—the most extensive sort in administrative terms.7
Not only the number but just as notably the ambition of these operations
swelled. Exceeding the boundaries of traditional peacekeeping operations,
which depend on the consent of the parties to a conflict and do not legally con-
stitute intervention, many of these operations involved armed force sanctioned
by Chapter VII of the UN Charter and overrode state sovereignty, flouting the
will of at least one party to the conflict. Other operations formally remained tra-
ditional peacekeeping operations under Chapter VI but mushroomed in their
mission, coming to be dubbed “Chapter six and a half.” Both sorts pursued
aims ranging among humanitarian relief, disarmament of armed factions,
election monitoring, refugee resettlement, the construction of government
institutions, and at times even running government institutions—the latter a
particularly poignant departure from the principle of state sovereignty.
These operations coincided with yet another trend, a marked rise in the
frequency of civil wars being settled through negotiations rather than the vic-
tory of one side or a petering out. Political scientist Monica Duffy Toft reports
that between 1940 and 1989, 75 to 100 percent of civil wars in any one decade
ended in military victory, whereas only a handful ended in negotiation. By con-
trast, during the 1990s, a sharply increased 42 percent of civil wars ended in
negotiations, coming to exceed the 40 percent that ended in military victory.8
In fact, more civil wars ended through negotiations between 1989 and 2004
than in the previous two centuries.9 It is frequently in conjunction with such
negotiations that UN operations have taken root.
The manifesto of the UN revolution was former Secretary General Boutros
Boutros-Ghali’s Agenda for Peace of 1992. Written in the heady days of the new
world order, the document both reflects on the ballooning of UN operations

and sets a course for its continuation. Four major peace operations were envi-
sioned by Boutros-Ghali: (1) preventive diplomacy; (2) an expanded version
of traditional peacekeeping; (3) peacemaking, which brings hostile parties to
agreement generally through peaceful means but at times through Chapter VII
enforcement; and finally, (4) postconflict peacebuilding, a range of efforts to
consolidate peace after a settlement.10 Subsequent documents written or com-
missioned by secretary generals have followed up on the proposals of An Agenda
for Peace. Boutros-Ghali himself issued a supplement in 1995.11 In 2000,
Secretary General Kofi Annan commissioned Algerian diplomat Lakhdar Bra-
himi to convene a panel on peace operations, which recommended greatly
enhanced institutional capacities.12 That same year, in response to a challenge
from Annan, the government of Canada convened an International Commission
on Intervention and State Sovereignty to produce Responsibility to Protect, a set
of principles intended to guide and promote humanitarian intervention.13 In
2004, a similar panel, this one commissioned directly by Annan, produced A
More Secure World, recommending UN reforms that included a Peacebuilding
Commission to coordinate and strengthen transitions from war to peace.14
Here the assumptions of the liberal peace can be found—its stress on
human rights, democracy, free markets, and the central role of international
institutions and state governments in building peace.15 In 1996, Boutros-Ghali
issued a document called An Agenda for Democratization.16 The same assump-
tions can be found among those departments and officials in Western gov-
ernments that most involve themselves in building peace, not least the U.S.
government, which has played an integral role in UN-authorized peace opera-
tions in Iraq (1990s), Somalia, Haiti, Cambodia, Bosnia, and Afghanistan, and
in operations outside UN mandates in Kosovo and Iraq (1999 and 2003). They
are found, too, in the Washington Consensus, a doctrine of economic develop-
ment shared by the World Bank and agencies of the U.S. government stressing
reduced trade barriers and public sectors and generally free market economic
policies in developing country governments.17 They are found in much scholar-
ship on UN peace operations.18
In 2005, Andrew Mack reported in the Human Security Report that con-
trary to abounding myths, civil wars, genocides, and international crises all
declined sharply after the end of the Cold War, and he credited UN peace opera-
tions as the primary source of the trend.19 Have UN operations achieved such
success? Scholars differ over the question, and their differences depend on the
stringency of their standards.
Representative of a skeptical assessment is political scientist Roland
Paris, who, focusing on the effects of postconflict peacebuilding operations
in promoting political and market liberalization, finds that only two out of
eleven operations between 1989 and 1999—Namibia and Croatia—were suc-
cessful, measured by amelioration of the conditions that give rise to conflict
and a positive impact on “the likelihood of stable and lasting peace within the
host country.”20 Political scientists George Downs and Stephen John Stedman
take Paris to task for adopting such demanding standards that he cannot
INTRODUCTION 7
distinguish between catastrophic failures and partial successes and hence

derives too pessimistic a verdict. To them, UN operations are successful if they
bring large-scale violence to an end and do so on a self-enforcing basis that
allows them to exit without fear of violence resurging. On this basis, they survey
sixteen UN efforts to implement peace accords between 1980 and 1997 and
conclude that six were successes, four were partial successes, and six were
failures.21 Reasoning roughly similarly about success is arguably the most
sophisticated study of peacebuilding to date, political scientists Michael W. Doyle
and Nicholas Sambanis’s Making War and Building Peace, an analysis, both quan-
titative and qualitative, of the factors that contribute to peace in the wake of civil
wars. They measure success in terms of both sovereign peace, which “requires
an end to civil war, undivided sovereignty, no residual violence . . . and no mass
human rights abuses by the state,” as well as a more robust participatory peace,
which includes all of these ends but also a “minimum level of political openness.”
Doyle and Sambanis discover (among their other conclusions) that UN peace
operations have a significant positive effect on participatory peace two years after
the end of a war and that UN peace operations are positively correlated with the
length of the peace, reducing peace failures by 50 percent.22
The debate over criteria for success need not be settled here; it ought only
to be noted that even the most favorable evaluations judge the success of UN
peace operations to be mixed. Doyle and Sambanis’s quantitative analysis is
probabilistic and includes cases of both successful and failed peace operations.
One of their findings is that in the short run, UN missions have little effect on
whether parties resume warfare, though in the long run their pacifying effect
is stronger—again, a mixed verdict.23 Other studies show a large proportion of
peace settlements relapsing into violence. The negotiated settlements that have
become so characteristic of the post–Cold War period revert to violence three
times as often as civil wars that end in the victory of one side.24 According to
Charles T. Call and Elizabeth M. Cousens, most studies show that somewhere
between a fifth and a third of all settled conflicts revert back to warfare within
five years.25 Andrew Mack’s 2007 study showed that armed conflicts ending
with a negotiated settlement experienced a reversion rate of 43 percent within
five years.26 Most arresting are two outbreaks of violence that followed the
breakdown of UN peace operations: Angola in 1993, which resulted in 350,000
deaths, and Rwanda in 1994, which left 800,000 dead. Peacebuilding still has
a long way to go.
Reacting to this mixed verdict, these and other analysts have proposed
improvements. Paris diagnoses the problem as a rush to bring about politi-
cal and economic liberalization, which undermines stability if it takes place
in the absence of stable government institutions. “Institutionalization before
liberalization,” he counsels.27 Downs and Stedman claim that good peacebuild-
ing rests on a better understanding of two critical variables—the difficulty of
the environment and the willingness of outside parties to intervene—and the
factors that shape both. Within operations, Stedman considers demobiliz-
ing combatants to be the most important task.28 Doyle and Sambanis some-
what complexify Downs and Stedman’s model by proposing a “peacebuilding
triangle” in which international capacities, levels of hostility, and local capaci-

ties are the three crucial assets for peacebuilding success.29 Former Ambas-
sador James Dobbins and his coauthors (who, like Downs and Stedman, think
that peacebuilding operations have been a mixed success) stress sizing up the
necessary resources—which they calculate with admirable precision—and
adopting a multiplicity of practices.30 Francis Fukuyama’s analysis of state-
building criticizes the Washington Consensus for devaluing state capacity and
argues for measures that strengthen state institutions under the rule of law,
but remains broadly skeptical of international efforts at peacebuilding.31 In her
study of civil wars, Toft argues that negotiated settlements, which are far less
likely than victories to remain stable, will only last when an outside party offers
combatants a combination of harms and benefits for adhering to it; third-party
intervention alone is not enough. She particularly stresses the importance of
security sector reform.32 Inquiring into the kinds of domestic institutions and
territorial settlements through which civil wars have been settled, political sci-
entists Philip G. Roeder and Donald Rothchild analyze and argue that majori-
tarian democracy is far more stable than power sharing or partition.33 All of
these analyses, however, work roughly within the assumptions of the liberal
peace: stable peace, human rights, democracy, and market economies are the
primary ends; intergovernmental institutions, state governments, and warring
parties are the primary actors. Generally—with the possible exception of cer-
tain aspects of Doyle and Sambanis’s model that are stressed in Sambanis’s
chapter herein—they do not approach the holism of strategic peacebuilding.34
Yet in the principle and the practice, in the doctrine and the debate over
peacebuilding during the period inaugurated by the UN revolution, one can
discern a movement toward holism.35 Since the early days of no-fly zones in
Iraq and intervention in Somalia, peacebuilding operations have taken on
an increasingly complex, multifold, and ambitious array of tasks. First in
Cambodia and Bosnia, then more extensively in eastern Slavonia, Kosovo, and
East Timor, operations took the form of an “international administration” that
assumed, at least for a short time, sovereign powers, much like international
trusteeships did earlier in the twentieth century.36 In the doctrine of the UN,
strains of holism are perceptible in both An Agenda for Peace and in the Supple-
ment to an Agenda for Peace, where Boutros-Ghali wrote of the multiple tasks
involved in postconflict peacebuilding.37 They crescendo in the Brahimi Report,
which points to the need for peacebuilding strategy, integrating peacebuilding
into peacekeeping operations, and incorporating a comprehensive program for
national reconciliation into peace operations,38 and in a 2001 statement of the
Security Council recognizing that
peacebuilding is aimed at preventing the outbreak, the recurrence

or the continuation of armed conflict and therefore encompasses
a wide range of political, development, humanitarian, and human
rights programmes [sic] and mechanisms. This requires short- and
long-term action tailored to address the particular needs of societies
sliding into conflict or emerging from it. These actions should focus
INTRODUCTION 9
on fostering sustainable development, the eradication of poverty and

inequalities, transparent and accountable governance, the promotion
of democracy, respect for human rights and the rule of law, and the
promotion of a culture of peace and non-violence.39
Then, the report, A More Secure World, proposed a UN Peacebuilding Commis-
sion whose mission would include coordinating the efforts of the UN Security
Council, the Economic and Social Council, the International Monetary Fund,
the World Bank, and representatives of principal donor countries, the country
where the intervention is taking place, and regional and subregional organ-
izations—also a thrust toward holism.40 In December 2005, the Peacebuild-
ing Commission was created. For its part, the World Bank took a step toward
holism in a 2006 report proclaiming and documenting the role of civil society
in peacebuilding.41 But for all of their thrusts, strides, and movements toward
holism, these landmark statements of the liberal peace stop short of directly
and forthrightly conceptualizing an approach to peacebuilding that integrates
diverse and interdependent actors, activities, and time horizons.42
A Proposal for Strategic Peacebuilding
The authors in this volume take up from where these trajectories have led the
business of peacebuilding. A lasting and even reasonably just peace, we claim,
depends on a wide array of actors and activities, at all levels of society and
between societies, oriented toward the past, the present, and the future. These
sectors are interdependent, and in taking them into its range of vision, strategic
peacebuilding evinces holism—its most quintessential characteristic. It is the
mission of advocates and practitioners of strategic peacebuilding to exploit this
interdependence and holism, synergetically linking sectors that would other-
wise remain isolated or in conflict. The intentionality of such efforts is what
gives force to the adjective strategic. Strategic peacebuilders are like doctors
who understand that the body is composed of interconnected systems and then
specialize in certain regions of connection with the conviction that these sub-
systems crucially sustain the entire anatomy. A feature of this medicine is its
interest not only in laws, institutions, and policies but in emotions, attitudes,
beliefs, legitimacy, and, broadly speaking, the wide range of relationships
among citizens. In pursuing this interest, it draws wisdom not only from the
liberal tradition of human rights, democracy, free markets, and international
law and institutions but also from cultural, religious, and tribal traditions.
“Get real!” exclaimed one interlocutor at the November 2006 conference at
the University of Notre Dame where the essays for this volume were first pre-
sented. How can a holistic approach be anything other than utopian in the face
of large-scale violence like the wars in Yugoslavia or Rwanda? Realists might
also ask how, given the strains that peacebuilding operations already face, a
still more ambitious set of undertakings can be envisioned. Call and Cousens
caution that in the context of the UN, calls for integrated strategy “tended to
lose out to ‘laundry lists’ and what could be called a ‘no agency left behind’
notion of peacebuilding.”43 In advocating greater attention to interdependence,
holism, and integration, none of the authors herein has in mind a Peacebuilding
Panopticon or a World Office of Strategic Peacebuilding that will direct and
command the efforts of all who are involved. Even the Peacebuilding Com-
mission does not have such ambitions, and at the time of this writing has not
yet realized the coordinating functions that it was mandated to perform. Nor
do the chapters herein call for an abolition of internationally sanctioned mili-
tary intervention or international policing.44 Rather, particular nodes of inter-
dependence, instances of overlap between activities, actors, and other kinds of
sectors are what the authors identify and propose ways to develop. Through
many such efforts, which may begin to be coordinated once they occur, a more
holistic approach to peacebuilding can emerge. Our proposal is not to throw
in the kitchen sink but to mix together carefully heretofore unmixed ingredi-
ents. Far from placing more strain on the UN and other institutions, such an
approach ought to lessen the pressure that they face by spreading the work of
peacebuilding over a far greater array of actors endowed with variegated exper-
tise and assets.
That strategic peacebuilding can be successful is evinced through examples
in the chapters that follow. John Paul Lederach and R. Scott Appleby’s contri-
bution details the fruits of strategic peacebuilding in Mozambique, Colombia,
and the Philippines. Gerard Powers points to the successful efforts of religious
mediators in Guatemala, northern Uganda, and elsewhere. Naomi Roht-Arriaza
touts transitional justice efforts in Guatemala for their success in bridging
national and local levels to be healing for victims of human rights abuses.
Many other success stories emerge. The chapters likewise contain examples of
operations that were mixed or lacking in success because of an arguable dearth
of strategic peacebuilding. Simon Chesterman, for instance, evaluates several
UN missions, among them Kosovo, Somalia, Cambodia, and East Timor, and
concludes that their limitations were due in good part to insufficiently strategic
aims, inadequate coordination among actors, and poor standards for evaluating
success. To be sure, he cautions that modest expectations are in order, but he
still believes that progress in all of these areas would improve UN operations—
and would, in fact, involve strategic peacebuilding.
Each of the essays asserts some way in which sectors, practices, policies, or
time horizons can be linked fruitfully—that is, a strategy of peace. The strate-
gies take a wide variety of forms and involve a wide variety of sectors and activi-
ties, reflecting the diverse disciplines and methods of the authors, who include
sociologists, legal scholars, peace scholars, political scientists, psychologists,
and a historian. By and large, these differences are complementary, reflecting
the very character of strategic peacebuilding. At times, they involve creative
tensions. Nicholas Sambanis and Jackie Smith each call for a greater integra-
tion of economic development into peacebuilding but differ over the wisdom
of economic liberalization and the role of international financial institutions.
In his concluding essay, Oliver Richmond applauds George Lopez and David
Cortright for linking fighting terror with building peace on the ground through
INTRODUCTION 11
UN policy but still worries that UN counterterrorism policies risk radicalizing

extremists and undermining peace processes. Such disagreements are con-
structive because they offer readers a wider portfolio of strategies of peace to
explore and evaluate.
Generally, the book’s chapters are arrayed in three broad clusters that each
makes the case for strategic peacebuilding in a different way. Chapters 1 through
4 set forth strategic peacebuilding at a general, conceptual level: the theory of
strategic peacebuilding. Chapters 5 through 8 make up a second cluster, one
that presents peacebuilding “from above,” that is, with a central stress on inter-
national institutions, especially the United Nations and the International Crim-
inal Court. Chapters 9 through 13 form the third and final grouping, presenting
peacebuilding “from below,” emphasizing the role of civil society, economic,
religious, educational, and other nongovernmental actors. That these divisions
are not perfect is entirely to be expected: linkages between levels are a leitmotif
in strategic peacebuilding. The essays in the second cluster call for interna-
tional institutions to be linked to the work of national and nongovernmental
actors, and several of those in the third cluster advocate the same sort of links
in the other direction. The clusters are a matter of emphasis.
John Paul Lederach and Scott Appleby’s chapter orients the whole volume
by laying out a foundational theory of strategic peacebuilding, one to which
subsequent chapters refer. Lederach is a prominent scholar and practitioner
who has pursued what he calls the “art of peacebuilding” in locales as diverse
as Nicaragua, Colombia, Nepal, Spain, and Kazakhstan; he is credited with
pioneering a paradigm shift from conflict resolution to conflict transforma-
tion.45 His writings have developed many of the intellectual planks of strategic
peacebuilding: relationships, reconciliation, transformation, the importance of
multiple social levels and a wide time horizon that involves healing the past as
well as envisioning the future, and an “elicitive” method that taps local cultures
for their peacebuilding codes.46 He teams up with Scott Appleby, a historian
and scholar of religion whose book The Ambivalence of the Sacred was one of the
first to give conceptual depth to the idea of religious peacebuilding. Appleby
founded the Catholic Peacebuilding Network, a worldwide association of activ-
ists and scholars who seek to advance the study and practice of peacebuilding
in the Philippines, Burundi, Colombia, and many other locales.47 Lederach and
Appleby extend and develop the ideas behind these pursuits, weaving into a
new synthesis the concepts of interdependence; holism; transparency; com-
munication; coordination between levels, actors, and practices; and the idea of
a comprehensive justpeace.
Then, a chapter by Peter Wallensteen, a long-standing leading peace
researcher, gives historical and conceptual specificity to the concepts that
Lederach and Appleby develop. After laying out the precedents for peace-
building in both political practice and peace scholarship, Wallensteen unveils
an approach to peacebuilding that, echoing the metaphor of a body com-
posed of multiple systems, describes the construction of peace as combining
state-building, democracy-building, security-building, nation-building, and
market-building. He closes by probing four contextual questions that must
be answered for effective peacebuilding to take place: how the previous war
ended, how the previous war started, who is conducting peacebuilding, and
the nature of the neighborhood where peacebuilding is taking place. Through
developing and applying answers to these questions, effective strategic peace-
building takes place.
How should peacebuilding initiatives, particularly those of multilateral
agencies and NGOs, be evaluated? This is the question that Hal Culbertson,
a practitioner and analyst of peacebuilding in both NGO and university set-
tings, poses. His answer is far more than a technical one. A central criterion
for assessment, consistent with the vector of this volume, is the NGO’s or civil
society organization’s strategic adaptation to the other actors and sectors of
the society in which peacebuilding is taking place. He cites the finding of the
remarkable Joint Utstein Study of Peacebuilding that of 336 peacebuilding
projects funded by foreign and development ministries in Germany, the Neth-
erlands, Norway, and the United Kingdom, 55 percent showed no commitment
to a “wider country strategy of peace.” Joining this insight with several others
based on a holistic understanding of peacebuilding, Culbertson’s essay offers a
useful framework for monitoring and evaluating peacebuilding programs.
Peacebuilding can also be evaluated through moral reasoning. What is just
peacebuilding? By what criteria should it be assessed? These are the questions
for which my own chapter offers a framework, a set of standards analogous to
those that the just war theory poses for war. Its orienting idea is reconciliation,
a concept of justice as “restoration of right relationship” that is derived from
the Abrahamic religious traditions and whose meaning is much like Lederach
and Appleby’s notion of justpeace. Animating the ethic of political reconcilia-
tion is a set of practices that aim to repair one or more wounds to human flour-
ishing that political injustices leave behind and transform hostile emotions and
judgments to ones of assent to just political orders. Reflecting the volume’s
axial notions, the practices are interdependent and collectively holistic.
The ensuing nine chapters explore strategic peacebuilding in particular
contexts. In them can be found the range of actors, activities, and time hori-
zons, the stress on holism and interdependence, and the proposals for linking
sectors together—the strategies of peace—that characterize strategic peace-
building. Legal scholar Simon Chesterman and Nicholas Sambanis both look
at UN peacebuilding operations, stressing the need for their integration with
certain other practices. Drawing from his experience observing the UN’s most
ambitious operations—East Timor and Kosovo—Chesterman concludes that
“states cannot be made to work from the outside.” International assistance can
be successful, but only when it complements the creation of local institutions,
policies, and practices and the efforts of local actors. The Peacebuilding Com-
mission, he believes, carries potential for enriching such complementarity, but
it is too early to judge its success.
Sambanis focuses on that aspect of UN peace operations that he and
Doyle believe is most lacking: economic development. He advocates a commit-
ment to economic reconstruction and to integrating such reconstruction into
the project of peacebuilding that is far more capacious than the Washington
INTRODUCTION 13
Consensus approach of creating free market institutions and reducing public

sectors. Sambanis describes what this reconstruction consists of, how his and
Doyle’s peacebuilding triangle reveals the need for it, and who carries it out in
his chapter.
The UN is also the focus of George A. Lopez and David Cortright’s chap-
ter—not its peace operations but its policies for countering terrorism. Widely
recognized experts on sanctions, Lopez and Cortright outline a policy that vividly
exemplifies strategic peacebuilding’s interdependence of activity. Recognizing
the connection between terrorism and good governance, economic develop-
ment, and human rights, they offer informed recommendations for sanctions
and other enforcement measures that enhance (not detract from) these ends.
In so doing, they propose ways to combat violence while also improving the
environments that incubate this violence in the first place.
Robert C. Johansen’s chapter also strongly illustrates strategic peacebuild-
ing’s interdependence by exploring two pursuits whose clash begets vociferous
controversy today in countries like Uganda—the prosecution of war criminals
through the International Criminal Court and achieving a negotiated settle-
ment to civil war, which some argue requires amnesty or at least forgoing trials.
His approach is precisely a strategy for peace: a presumption for prosecution,
but one that is pursued so as best to promote long-term peace in war-ridden
societies and is potentially overridden in cases where it prevents such peace.
With sophistication, he addresses the dilemmas to which his approach gives
rise and proposes concrete solutions.
Legal scholar Naomi Roht-Arriaza makes the case for strategic interde-
pendence and complementarity in another realm that is integral to building a
just peace—transitional justice. As she describes, it is a realm with a trajectory
toward holism all of its own, beginning with debates over whether to prosecute
in Latin America in the 1980s, proceeding to the rise of robust truth com-
missions in Chile and South Africa in the 1990s, and now coming to involve
rich “hybrids” of both trials and truth commissions, often combined with prac-
tices of vetting, reparations, and commemorations. Roht-Arriaza’s piece part-
ners with Johansen’s essay on trials, then, in plumbing the other institutions
involved in this complementarity. She argues that practitioners of transitional
justice need to recognize another sort of holism—a linking of international,
regional, national, and local transitional justice mechanisms, each of which
complements the others in its strengths and weaknesses.
Like Johansen, peace scholar Larissa Fast takes up the tension between two
activities that often come into conflict in the field: humanitarian relief and other
dimensions of peacebuilding, like mediating an end to wars. Her response to
the problem seems at first to be a dissonant one for the volume: the two activi-
ties should not be linked, she avers, lest humanitarian relief become diverted
and compromised. But respecting other sectors’ autonomy can be construed
as a strategy for peace. Amid war, anarchy, and chaos, such respect requires
intentionality, awareness, and coordination. In arguing for such a severance,
Fast takes on a rival position that would link humanitarianism and politics. She
explains why the case for separation is more persuasive.
Sociologist Jackie Smith challenges the liberal peace head on, especially
its optimism about market economies. Like Roland Paris, she believes that
a rapid push for free markets, free trade, and minimal government in the
wake of armed conflict can actually destabilize societies rather than build last-
ing peace. Both her diagnosis and her solution to the problem exceed Paris’s
call for sequencing. For her, the chief obstacle to peace is local structures of
inequality that are in turn embedded in global structures of inequality, which,
if not addressed, will only lead to further war. What sort of strategy can combat
these inequalities and hence offer hope for a sustainable peace? Her bold and
surprising answer leads us far beyond the corridors of international financial
institutions.
What of strategic peacebuilding’s concern with changing hearts and
minds? What of its emphasis on the long run? Both factors receive play in the
chapter by psychologists Robert D. Enright, Jeannette Knutson Enright, and
Anthony C. Holter, who draw conclusions from the curriculum for teaching
forgiveness to children that they have established in the school system of
Belfast, Ireland. Forgiveness contributes to peace by encouraging a new gener-
ation to turn away from communal hatred and toward civic friendship, a virtue
that resembles Lederach and Appleby’s notion of right relationship as well as
my own concept of reconciliation. Forgiveness, civil society, affective change,
the educational sector, and the long run: all of these features add new hues to
strategic peacebuilding’s palette.
One sort of actor in particular, one also associated with hearts, minds, and
the long run, has been virtually neglected by the liberal peace: the religious.
The chapter by Gerard F. Powers, an expert on international affairs in the Cath-
olic Church, is a strong corrective. Behind the neglect of religion, he explains,
is the secularization paradigm, which views religion as an irrational, violent,
and intolerant force that is destined for extinction. The religious can be vio-
lent, he acknowledges, but they have also proven to be powerful, passionate,
and effective agents of social and political transformation, their efforts rang-
ing from high-level mediation to interreligious dialogue to grassroots and civil
society efforts. What lies behind their influence? Under what conditions are
they most successful? What can the answers to these questions teach religious
peacebuilders as well as secular Western governments? These issues are at the
heart of Powers’s inquiry.
Finally, political scientist Oliver Richmond concludes with a chapter that
synthesizes and comments on the entire volume. A prolific scholar of peace-
building and commentator on the liberal peace, Richmond evaluates the essays
and the collective argument of the project from the perspective of an engaged
intellectual, employing both the tools of international relations theory and his
wide experience observing peacebuilding efforts on the ground around the
world.
This is strategic peacebuilding—an approach that takes up and seeks to
extend the movement toward holism that peacebuilding has traveled over the
past two decades. Insofar as it is sound, it is an approach that ought to be of
interest to a wide variety of parties, including officials in the United Nations,
INTRODUCTION 15
the World Bank, and other international organizations, religious leaders, NGO
leaders and staff, educators, economists, activists, tribal and village leaders,
international lawyers and judges, state officials in countries struggling to escape
war and poverty, civil society leaders, and people living and working at the grass
roots wherever peacebuilding does or should take place. But strategic peace-
building might prove to be of interest to Western governments as well. Since
the end of the Cold War, the U.S. and European governments have experienced
their most difficult foreign policy dilemmas in locales where creating a sustain-
able peace in the aftermath of formal war proved far more difficult than military
victory itself—as noted at the beginning of this introduction, this includes the
U.S. experience in Somalia, Afghanistan, and Iraq; Germany’s in Afghanistan;
and the European Union’s in Kosovo and the Democratic Republic of Congo.
To recommend a strategic, holistic approach to peacebuilding in these cases is
not necessarily to approve of the wars that begat these challenges in the first
place. It is only to say that aims like fighting terrorism, promoting democracy,
and creating stability in sundered societies might well be pursued more profit-
ably through adopting into policy the insights in the chapters that follow. At
the time of this writing, a new president has taken office in the United States,
one who promises to conduct America’s foreign policy with greater sensitivity
to the character of its footprint on countries around the world. Might strategic
peacebuilding prove an asset?
Apart from who is building the peace, much is at stake. The lives of thou-
sands (even hundreds of thousands) of people, government based on human
rights and accountability, the prospect of escaping abject poverty, the protec-
tion of local villages and their cultures, justice for war criminals, the healing
of hatred and revenge, stability between countries and within regions, and the
avoidance and alleviation of AIDS, famine, and other calamities—all depend on
whether societies widen and deepen their peace or collapse back into war. Just
as suffering itself is multiple and interdependent, one form begetting another,
so must peacebuilding be capacious, multivalent, and strategic.
NOTES
The author thanks Gerard Powers and Scott Appleby for helpful comments and
suggestions.
1. The exact number of countries that have become democracies since the
“third wave” began in 1974 is not clear. In his The Third Wave: Democratization in
the Late Twentieth Century (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991), Samuel P.
Huntington documents thirty transitions between 1974 and 1989. Freedom House
reports that the number of “free” countries increased by thirteen from 1989 to 2004.
See Freedom House Press Release, Russia Downgraded to “Not Free” (Washington,
D.C.: Freedom House, 2004); and Freedom House, Freedom in the World 2005: The
Annual Survey of Political Rights and Civil Liberties (Washington, D.C.: Freedom House,
2005). Democracy theorist Larry Diamond estimates that from 1974 to 1996, between
thirty-six and seventy-seven states became democracies, depending on how one counts
democratization exactly. See his “Is the Third Wave of Democratization Over? An
Empirical Assessment,” Working Paper no. 236, Kellogg Institute, University of Notre
Dame, March 1997. Here, I adopt an estimate from the high end of the spectrum by
writing of societies that have “moved toward” democracy.
2. For descriptions of the liberal peace, see Roland Paris, At War’s End: Building
Peace after Civil Conflict (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 40–51; Oliver
Richmond, “Patterns of Peace,” Global Society 20, no. 4 (2006); Oliver P. Richmond,
“The Problem of Peace: Understanding the ‘Liberal Peace’,” Conflict, Security, &
Development 6, no. 3 (2006).
3. This is not to say that a wave of ethnic conflicts broke out just after the Cold
War—a prevailing myth. Ethnic conflict had been increasing for several decades
during the Cold War and continued to remain at a high level just after the Cold War
ended. The Human Security Report of 1995 shows that after a high point for the entire
Cold War period in 1991, struggles for self-determination (most of them ethnic or
communal in nature) declined sharply up through 2004. See James D. Fearon and
David D. Laitin, “Ethnicity, Insurgency, and Civil War,” American Political Science
Review 97, no. 1 (2003); Ted Robert Gurr and Barbara Harff, Ethnic Conflict in World
Politics (Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1994), xiii, 11; The Human Security Report: War
and Peace in the 21st Century (Oxford: Human Security Centre, 2005).
4. Michael W. Doyle and Nicholas Sambanis, Making War and Building Peace
(Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2006), 6–7.
5. James Dobbins et al., America’s Role in Nation-Building: From Germany to Iraq
(Santa Monica, Calif.: RAND Corporation, 2003), xiv–xv.
6. Paris, At War’s End, 17.
7. Roland Paris, “Bringing the Leviathan Back In: Classical versus Contemporary
Studies of the Liberal Peace,” International Studies Review 8 (2006): 433.
8. Monica Duffy Toft, Securing the Peace: The Durable Settlement of Civil Wars,
(Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2010), 6–7. Different figures, but ones
yielding the same conclusion, come from Elizabeth M. Cousens and Charles T. Call.
“The trend toward negotiated settlements after the Cold War also created entry points
for international peacekeeping: between 1946 and 1990, twice as many conflicts
ended through victory than through negotiations, whereas between 1995 and 2004,
negotiated settlements were three times as likely to end war as outright victory,” they
write. They add in a note that “between 1994 and 2004, out of 48 wars ended, 36
concluded with negotiation compared to victory.” See Charles T. Call and Elizabeth
M. Cousens, “Ending Wars and Building Peace: International Responses to War-Torn
Societies,” International Studies Quarterly 9 (2008): 5.
9. A More Secure World: Our Shared Responsibility: Report of the High-Level Panel on
Threats, Challenges, and Change (New York: United Nations, 2004), 33–34.
10. Boutros Boutros-Ghali, An Agenda for Peace, 2nd ed. (New York: United
Nations Publications, 1995).
11. Ibid.; contains the supplement.
12. Report of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations (New York: United
Nations, 2000).
13. Responsibility to Protect: Report of the International Commission on Intervention
and State Sovereignty (Ottawa: International Development Research Centre, 2001).
14. A More Secure World.
15. Paris, At War’s End, 40–51.
16. Boutros Boutros-Ghali, An Agenda for Democratization (New York: United
Nations, 1996).
17. For a description, see Francis Fukuyama, State Building: Governance and World
Order in the Twenty-First Century (Surrey, U.K.: Profile Books, 2004), 20–23.
INTRODUCTION 17
18. See, for instance, Richard Caplan, The International Governance of War-Torn
Territories: Rule and Reconstruction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006); Noah
Feldman, What We Owe Iraq: War and the Ethics of Nation-Building (Princeton, N.J.:
Princeton University Press, 2006); Virginia Page Fortna, Peace Time (Princeton, N.J.:
Princeton University Press, 2004); Michael Ignatieff, Empire Lite: Nation Building
in Bosnia, Kosovo, and Afghanistan (Toronto: Penguin Books, 2003); Stephen John
Stedman, ed., Ending Civil Wars (Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 2002); Barbara F.
Walter, Committing to Peace (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2002).
19. Human Security Report 2005, 1–9.
21. George Downs and Stephen John Stedman, “Evaluation Issues in Peace
Implementation,” in Ending Civil Wars: The Implementation of Peace Accords, ed.
Stephen John Stedman, Donald Rothchild, and Elizabeth Cousens (Boulder, Colo.:
Lynne Rienner, 2002), 50, 59. Call and Cousens share Downs and Stedman’s criticism
of Paris and advocate a “moderate standard” of “no renewed warfare plus decent
governance.” See Call and Cousens, “Ending Wars and Building Peace,” 7.
22. Doyle and Sambanis, Making War and Building Peace, 73, and Nicholas
Sambanis’s chapter in this volume. The broad verdict of “mixed success” is shared by
other systematic analyses, including Caplan, International Governance; James Dobbins,
The Beginner’s Guide to Nation-Building (Santa Monica, Calif.: RAND Corporation,
2007).
23. Doyle and Sambanis, Making War and Building Peace, 110.
24. Call and Cousens, “Ending Wars and Building Peace,” 2.
25. Ibid., 5.
26. Andrew Mack, Global Patterns of Political Violence (New York: International
Peace Academy, 2007); cited in Call and Cousens, “Ending Wars and Building Peace,” 5.
27. Paris, At War’s End, 179–211. See also Jack Snyder, From Voting to Violence:
Democratization and Nationalist Conflict (New York: Norton, 2000).
28. Stedman, Ending Civil Wars, 3.
29. Doyle and Sambanis, Making War and Building Peace, 64.
30. Dobbins, The Beginner’s Guide to Nation-Building.
31. Fukuyama, State Building, 1–57.
32. Toft, Securing the Peace, 2–6.
33. Donald Rothchild and Philip G. Roeder, “Power Sharing as an Impediment to
Peace and Democracy,” in Sustainable Peace: Power and Democracy after Civil Wars, ed.
Philip G. Roeder and Donald Rothchild (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2005).
34. Even Paris, for his sharp criticism of the liberal peace, does not contest its
goals. His dispute is about sequencing more than it is about what ends ought to be
pursued. He even grounds his case in Enlightenment political thought, arguing that
the same thinkers who generated the liberal peace also understood the importance of
establishing stable government institutions. See Paris, At War’s End, 46–51.
35. For one account of a holistic approach to peacebuilding involving the UN,
see Thomas M. Franck, “A Holistic Approach to Building Peace,” in Peacemaking and
Peacekeeping for the New Century, ed. Olara A. Otunnu and Michael W. Doyle (Lanham,
Md.: Rowman and Littlefield, 1998).
36. See William Bain, Between Anarchy and Society: Trusteeship and the Obligations
of Power (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003); Caplan, International Governance;
and Dominik Zaum, The Sovereignty Paradox: The Norms and Politics of International
Statebuilding (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007).
37. Boutros-Ghali, Agenda for Peace, 19, 61.
38. Report of the Panel on UN Peace Operations, 1, 6, 7.

39. Statement by the president of the Security Council, quoted in Call and
Cousens, “Ending Wars and Building Peace,” 6.
40. A More Secure World, 83, 84.
41. Social Development Department Sustainable Development Network, “Civil
Society and Peacebuilding: Potential, Limitations and Critical Factors,” World Bank,
2006.
42. It is important to note that alongside the present work are other analyses in
which the UN, Western governments, and international institutions are not the only
or even the primary actors but are situated in a world of grassroots initiatives and
civil society activities, of NGOs and religious leaders, of globalized markets and their
local merchants, of truth commissions and tribal rituals, of villages and metropolises,
of immediate crises and long-term transformations—efforts and analyses that have
initiated the idea of strategic peacebuilding. For these, see citations in John Paul
Lederach and R. Scott Appleby’s chapter. See also Mary B. Anderson and Lara Olson,
Confronting War: Critical Lessons for Peace Practitioners (Cambridge, Mass.: Collaborative
for Development Action, 2003); Johannes Botes, “Conflict Transformation: A Debate
over Semantics of a Crucial Shift in the Theory and Practice of Peace and Conflict
Studies?” International Journal of Peace Studies 8, no. 2 (2003); Necla Tschirgi,
Peacebuilding as the Link between Peace and Security: Is the Window of Opportunity
Closing? (New York: International Peace Academy, 2004).
43. Call and Cousens, “Ending Wars and Building Peace,” 3.
44. It should be noted that some of the authors do place a strong stress on
nonviolence in the larger corpus of their writings. There is no general agreement on
the issue among the present authors.
45. Botes, “Conflict Transformation.”
46. See especially John Paul Lederach, Building Peace: Sustainable Reconciliation
in Divided Societies (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace, 1997); John Paul
Lederach, The Little Book of Conflict Transformation (Intercourse, Penn.: Good Books,
2003); John Paul Lederach, The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Building Peace
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005); John Paul Lederach, Preparing for Peace:
Conflict Transformation across Cultures (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1995).
47. R. Scott Appleby, The Ambivalence of the Sacred: Religion, Violence, and
Reconciliation (Lanham, Md.: Rowman and Littlefield, 2000).
1
Strategic Peacebuilding:
An Overview
John Paul Lederach and R. Scott Appleby
As faculty members of a peace institute, we study worldwide efforts

to reduce violence, resolve conflict, and build peace, and we regularly
receive inquiries and requests from people confronting a variety of
challenges posed by intense conflict. Consider the following exam-
ples, drawn from well-known cases and from our own experiences,
keeping in mind the following question: what are the “strategic”
dimensions of building peace in this context?
Following a decade of struggle, the African nation of Mozambique

gained its independence from Portugal in June 1975. Twice the size
of California, the new nation was plagued by poverty, a 90 percent
illiteracy rate, and periodic, devastating droughts. The 230,000 Portu-
guese settlers who fled in the mid-1970s left the country bereft of most
skilled, professional, and business people; they also took working capi-
tal and sabotaged equipment as they departed. Therefore, the economy
at independence was in a shambles. Samora Machel, the military
leader of the independence movement known as FRELIMO (the Front
for the Liberation of Mozambique), became the new nation’s first pres-
ident. FRELIMO’s Marxist-Leninist ideology inspired opposition in
the form of the Mozambique National Resistance, or RENAMO, which
was composed of former Portuguese soldiers, disgruntled FRELIMO
deserters, and common criminals. RENAMO launched a guerrilla war
in the early 1980s directed at destabilizing FRELIMO. By 1992, the
RENAMO insurgency had left over a million Mozambicans dead and
had displaced 6 to 8 million others.
Throughout the civil war, the religious communities of Mozam-
bique constituted the nation’s civil society. The Catholic Church,
which had maintained close ties with the colonial government well into the
1960s, grew more diversified politically, with many priests supporting the
Marxist FRELIMO leadership. The relationship between the mission-educated
President Machel and the Catholic Church nonetheless deteriorated rapidly
after independence. From the late 1970s until 1982, FRELIMO attempted to
suppress the evangelistic, publishing, and educational activities of the churches
in Mozambique. It appropriated the churches’ considerable rural assets in
particular and hounded religious actors across the country. State persecution
served to galvanize the religious, however, prompting them to renewed efforts
of ministry. During this period, the churches came to represent the single
largest and most influential alternative voice and institution in the country.
Repression, furthermore, triggered the emergence of nonviolent liberationist
elements in the churches.
The larger Mozambican religious community was divided, however. Mus-
lims were generally hostile toward FRELIMO. Evangelical and Pentecostal
organizations such as the Shekinah, Christ for the Nations, the End-Time
Handmaidens, and Frontline Fellowship recognized and supported RENAMO;
these groups conducted fund-raising and lobbying operations on behalf of
the insurgents in Washington, London, and elsewhere. On the other hand, the
Protestant ecumenical association—the Mozambican Council of Churches—
supported FRELIMO and condemned RENAMO, as did the United Methodist
Church in the United States. The Catholic bishops issued pastoral letters con-
demning atrocities committed by both sides and calling for negotiations.
Relations between the government and the religious groups and churches
improved markedly between 1981 and 1988, the period when the United States
provided $240 million in primarily humanitarian aid to the FRELIMO govern-
ment. This policy had its intended effect: in 1983, Mozambique began to allow
nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), such as the private relief agency
CARE, to operate in the nation, and in the late 1980s Mozambique moved
toward a less centralized economy. The government could no longer deny that
the churches were providing essential social services—such as the distribution
of food and clothing, education, and health care—which the state itself was
unable to supply during the war with RENAMO.
The Mozambique churches were able to draw on an international religious
network of social services, channel desperately needed assets into the coun-
try, and thus relieve some of the pressing economic needs. In addition, the
churches maintained their infrastructure in the rural areas despite the ravages
of the civil war. State officials often had to rely on religious groups for infor-
mation about rebel-controlled areas. In time, the horrendous condition of the
economy and the depredations of the civil war itself forced FRELIMO to recon-
sider its own policies and seek the cooperation of any groups willing to help
bring the conflict to an end. In this context, the Community of Sant’Egidio took
on a major role in hosting and mediating the complex negotiations that eventu-
ally led to the end of the civil war.
What element of strategic peacebuilding did this transnational organiza-
tion of lay Catholic professionals bring to the setting?
AN OVERVIEW 21
In 2006, following the election of Álvaro Uribe as president of

Colombia, representatives of the government opened a process to demobi-
lize the paramilitary structure in the war-torn nation. In the long history of
government–insurgent negotiations, different administrations had asked the
Catholic bishops and their support staff to provide oversight, good offices
and guarantees of safety and integrity, and occasional facilitation. As the new
initiative took shape, Church leadership faced questions regarding how it
would respond to the new requests and what role it would play in the process.
Specifically, the role of paramilitaries in human rights abuses in Colombia and
their proximity to government actors generated concerns, as did the prospect
of an end-game scenario which, hidden under the umbrella of a “peace proc-
ess” and “reconciliation,” would fail to address the need for truth, justice, and
reparations.
In this context the ethics of peacebuilding came into stark contrast with the
pragmatics of negotiation and the dismantling of an armed organization. Vic-
tim communities affected by paramilitarism—communities that the Church
had accompanied in some regions—expressed anxiety about the process. They
feared renewed violence and worried whether they would receive the acknowl-
edgment and reparations they deserved. Not least, the victimized communities
felt pressure to engage in reconciliation—but what, they asked, does reconcili-
ation mean in this context?
The situation became even more complex in light of the fact that the
Church was also engaged in on-again, off-again negotiations with armed insur-
gencies on the left. In addition, local parishes were supporting communities of
internally displaced persons and helping maintain fledgling peace zones that
had been declared at grassroots levels in at least three different regions.
What did a “strategic peacebuilding” perspective offer to the Catholic
Church as it attempted to balance these competing claims and build peace in
the context of a fifty-year insurgency?
In August 2008, a historic peace accord in Mindanao between the Moro Islamic
Liberation Front (MILF) and the government of the Philippines nearly reached
fruition. The result of seven years of negotiation facilitated by the Malaysian
government, the Memorandum of Agreement on Ancestral Domain (MOA-
AD) had survived numerous iterations and stages of consensus building. In the
last push, following the initialing of this yet-to-be signed negotiating document,
a divided Supreme Court declared it unconstitutional.
Immediately a variety of international, civil society, and local actors lodged
protests and encouraged the negotiators to salvage the historic opportunity to
end a conflict that traces its roots across centuries in this largest southernmost
island of the archipelago. The negotiators asked: How might the resources and
methods provided by a strategic peacebuilding approach sustain the negotia-
tion process at a time of crisis?
Several groups working in Nogales—where half the city is located on the
Arizona side of the border, and the other half in Mexico—identify the need
for help from someone who can view the situation comprehensively, see the
big picture, identify a path forward, and facilitate a common approach to local
issues. They recruit peacebuilders to the scene.
These groups are not alone. Borders in many countries create interde-
pendent communities living in close proximity, while the policies that regulate
immigration are formulated thousands of miles away in national capitals. The
economic globalization that creates flows of capital and workforces underscores
the artificiality of maps and mocks pretensions to sovereignty. Workers and
their families are buffeted about by the economic and social hurricane. “We are
not in open war, but we have got a mess on our hands,” they say.
Does strategic peacebuilding offer relevant analysis, diagnosis, and paths
to constructive change to people caught in the crossfire of immigration and the
globalization of economies?
At its core, peacebuilding nurtures constructive human relationships. To be

relevant, it must do so strategically, at every level of society and across the
potentially polarizing lines of ethnicity, class, religion, and race. This book pro-
poses the need for strategic peacebuilding—the capacity to develop strategies
to maximize the impact of initiatives for constructive change within this com-
plexity. It focuses on transforming inhumane social patterns, flawed structural
conditions, and open violent conflict that weaken the conditions necessary for
a flourishing human community. We are, in the words of Oliver Wendell Hol-
mes, “seeking the simplicity on the other side of complexity”—a simplicity that
makes a real difference. Strategic peacebuilders must embrace complexity and
find within any given situation or issue practical approaches that stitch together
key people and initiatives to reduce violence, change destructive patterns, and
build healthy relationships and structures.
Strategic peacebuilding therefore denotes an approach to reducing vio-
lence, resolving conflict and building peace that is marked by a heightened
awareness of and skillful adaptation to the complex and shifting material, geo-
political, economic, and cultural realities of our increasingly globalized and
interdependent world. Accordingly, peacebuilding that is strategic draws inten-
tionally and shrewdly on the overlapping and imperfectly coordinated pres-
ences, activities, and resources of various international, transnational, national,
regional, and local institutions, agencies, and movements that influence the
causes, expressions, and outcomes of conflict. Strategic peacebuilders take
advantage of emerging and established patterns of collaboration and interde-
pendence for the purposes of reducing violence and alleviating the root causes
of deadly conflict. They encourage the deeper and more frequent convergence
of mission, resources, expertise, insight, and benevolent self-interest that char-
acterizes the most fruitful multilateral collaborations in the cause of peace.
There are certain hallmarks of the constructive relationships that strate-
gic peacebuilders seek to foster among conflicted peoples. These include the
cultivation of interdependence as a social and political context for the effective
pursuit of human rights, good governance, and economic prosperity; the pro-
motion of transparent communication across sectors and levels of society in
the service of including as many voices and actors as possible in the reform of
AN OVERVIEW 23
institutions and the repair or creation of partnerships conducive to the com-

mon good; and the increasing coordination and (where possible) integration
of resources, programs, practices, and processes. These hallmarks characterize
the reflexive practice of peacebuilders themselves who think and act strategi-
cally.
Elements of these definitions of strategic peacebuilding require unpacking
and elaboration.
Peacebuilding: Comprehensive and Sustainable
In this chapter we explore peacebuilding in its most capacious meaning by con-

ceptualizing it as an ideal type—which is to acknowledge that peacebuilding in
this “ultra” mode may exist only in our imaginations and on paper, rather than
in the real world of practice. We take this ideal-type approach for at least three
reasons.
First, many if not all elements in the definition and description of peace-
building that we present in this chapter do, in fact, appear in actual peacebuild-
ing activities and operations; all of them appear in peacebuilding activities and
operations, collectively considered; and all of them are central to the successful
building of peace.1 In short, we add nothing to the array of activities and aspira-
tions already associated with the building of peace.
Second, a comprehensive definition and description of peacebuilding is
necessary if the peace being built is to be sustained over time. A sustainable
peace, the historical record shows, requires long-term, ongoing activities and
operations that may be initiated and supported for a time by outsiders but
must eventually become the ordinary practices of the citizens and institutions
of the society in question. We believe, furthermore, that peacebuilding occurs
in its fully realized mode when it addresses every stage of the conflict cycle and
involves all members of a society in the nonviolent transformation of conflict,
the pursuit of social justice, and the creation of cultures of sustainable peace.
Properly understood, the building and sustaining of a culture of peace and
its supporting institutions requires a range of relationship-building activities
encompassing the entire conflict cycle, rather than merely the postaccord,
coming-out-of-violence period. Accordingly, activities that constitute peacebuild-
ing run the gamut of conflict transformation, including violence prevention
and early warning, conflict management, mediation and resolution, social
reconstruction and healing in the aftermath of armed conflict, and the long,
complex work of reconciliation throughout the process.2
In addition, peacebuilding theory articulates the end goal of these dispa-
rate but interrelated phases of conflict transformation. The end goal is perhaps
best expressed by the idea of a justpeace, a dynamic state of affairs in which
the reduction and management of violence and the achievement of social
and economic justice are undertaken as mutual, reinforcing dimensions of
constructive change.3 Sustainable transformation of conflict requires more
than the (necessary) problem solving associated with mediation, negotiated
settlements, and other elements of conflict resolution; it requires the redress

of legitimate grievances and the establishment of new relations characterized
by equality and fairness according to the dictates of human dignity and the
common good.
To say that a justpeace is the end goal of peacebuilding is not to suggest
that peacebuilding ends when the fundamental requirements of a justpeace are
established; rather, the practices of peacebuilding that help bring about this
desired state of affairs must become routinized in the society. For example,
effective institutions for participatory government, once established, require
continual oversight, nurturing, and renewal.
Part of the rationale for conceptualizing peacebuilding in this compre-
hensive sense is a recognition that conflict does occur in a cycle, that each
phase of the cycle is related to the others, and that efforts toward a sustainable
peace must address each phase of the cycle in the context of the overall conflict.
Accordingly, efforts toward “prevention,” for example, should not be confined
to one temporal period—that is, “before the conflict occurs” (in most societies,
some level of violence has already occurred among the belligerents). Rather, sys-
tematic efforts toward the prevention of further violence should be prominent
in every stage of conflict, including the peace process and the post-settlement
implementation period.
Each of the tools available to a peacebuilder must be applied in situ, of
course. For example, efforts to prevent the recurrence of violence after a period
of state oppression, genocide, or civil war, which often occur while a negoti-
ated settlement is being implemented, will require a particular and somewhat
different set of skills than efforts undertaken to prevent an unprecedented
outbreak of deadly violence in a society simmering with ethnic, religious, or
political tensions but not yet plunged into war.4 Nonetheless, prevention must
unfold at every stage of conflict. The building of constructive personal, group,
and political relationships, in short, is perpetual, occurring as a constitutive
part of prevention, negotiation, transitional justice, and problem resolution.
Third, an ideal-type definition offers the advantage of identifying the dis-
tance between the current scope, scale, and transformative impact of efforts to
end violence and build peace, on one hand, and the fullest possible realization
of peacebuilding potential, on the other. Our definition therefore includes a
prescriptive dimension; we believe that the greater potential can be realized by
envisioning peacebuilding as a holistic enterprise, a comprehensive and coher-
ent set of actions and operations, that can be improved by greater levels of
collaboration, complementarity, coordination, and, where possible, integration
across levels of society.
In short, a comprehensive definition of sustainable peacebuilding, if
widely adopted, would stimulate the further realization of the comprehensive
reality of sustainable peacebuilding. Accordingly, we urge a more consistent
incorporation of the myriad elements of peacebuilding practice in peacebuild-
ing initiatives, as appropriate to the context, and a more realistic assessment
of the time frame necessary for integrating them into a coherent program for
sustainable peace.
AN OVERVIEW 25
Time has been the stumbling block of several otherwise savvy or at least
well-intended interventions. The robust definition of peacebuilding we advo-
cate incorporates the often bitter lessons of experience, learned from interven-
tions (or noninterventions) such as Rwanda, Cambodia, Iraq, and Afghanistan,
regarding the critical importance of getting both the timing and the duration
of interventions right.
As various chapters in the present volume illustrate, a lack of clarity about
the end goal of such interventions clouds planners’ thinking about timing
and duration. Professional peacebuilders, well aware that a comprehensive
and sustainable approach to ending violence in deeply divided societies takes
significantly more time and commitment than governments and intergovern-
mental agencies typically allot, might subscribe to a modified form of Colin
Powell’s dictum: “If it’s broke,” they might say, “who cares who broke it? We
are going to try to fix it.” “Fixing it,” they realize, requires strategic thinking
about how to forge the collaborative local-national-transnational alliances and
partnerships and movement-to-movement, person-to-person relationships that
will be needed to build a justpeace. Consider the experience-based counsel of
peacebuilders who have observed and consulted in settings of sustained vio-
lence across millions of miles and dozens of years: the period of time it takes to
accompany a society out of a protracted period of deadly violence, achieve sta-
bility, and move toward a justpeace, will be at least as long as it took the conflict
to gestate, turn violent, and run its course.5
Such sobering considerations might give pause to politicians and policy
makers, potential donors, intergovernmental organizations, and other critical
contributors to any peacebuilding operation that would be planned according to
the requirements of our comprehensive definition. Presumably, no one wants to
sink (much less dive) into what looks like a quagmire—which is how long-term
interventions within “bloody borders” far from home can readily be depicted.
How does one go about building the political will necessary to compel govern-
ments and other players to expand the time horizon of their commitment?6
Two partial responses begin the discussion of this crucial question. First,
one cannot object to the fact that states and intergovernmental agencies act in
their own interests. Yet we are encouraged by the growing realization by power-
ful actors, ranging from major foundations to the European Union, that smart
investment in carefully planned and coordinated peacebuilding operations is
“in their own interests,” given the increasingly interdependent environment.
This interdependence can be seen most vividly in the current debates, in places
like Nogales, Colombia, and Mozambique, about immigration, displaced popu-
lations, and the strain put on both the international and local communities
as people seek survival from the hotbeds of conflict. This is only predicted to
increase when we consider the impact of environmentally driven conflicts, par-
ticularly over issues like the access to and use of water and land, as the case of
Mindanao’s indigenous peoples suggests.7
That awareness of the utility of “carefully planned and coordinated peace-
building operations” brings us to a second and fuller response, which is the
burden of this chapter. How do we best attempt to ensure that peacebuilding
operations fulfill their potential by leading societies to the threshold of a just-

peace? Our answer, in a word, is that we do our best to ensure that “strategic”
planning and performance inform peacebuilding operations.
Strategic Peacebuilding: Interdependent and Integrated
Peacebuilders, like other professionals working on the international stage,

encountered a new set of circumstances in the aftermath of the Cold War, as
regional conflicts, civil wars, genocides, and ethnic cleansings, and the so-called
war on terror unfolded within the context of the technology-driven expansion
of world markets, mass communication, and the rapid transfer of social and
intellectual capital that marks the current phase of globalization.8 This new
world brings with it a new horizon of possibilities and challenges peacebuilders
to respond with an ever-greater capacity for strategic thinking and action.
Our answer to two related questions stands behind this claim. First, one
might ask: why is it necessary today to challenge the conventional understand-
ing of peacebuilding by calling on its practitioners to be more strategic—what
has changed? Second, how is strategic peacebuilding different than peacebuild-
ing as previously understood?
What has changed? The end of the Cold War superpower standoff between
the United States and the Soviet Union opened the field, not only for the explo-
sion of various kinds of regional and local wars but also for the interventions
of a dizzying array of international and transnational, governmental and non-
governmental actors. The problems facing twenty-first-century societies are no
longer (if ever they were) contained within national boundaries or susceptible
to solutions based on one way of knowing and assessing the world.
As scholar-practitioners reflecting on the new global reality, we can iden-
tify four insights about the nature of contemporary conflicts and their possible
solutions that help us rethink peacebuilding and fashion it as a strategic enter-
prise.
First, the players have multiplied. In the post–Cold War era a wider range
of actors and institutions mattered. Recalling our opening vignettes, for exam-
ple, consider the variety of religious, civil, nongovernmental, academic, legal,
and other actors that were necessary to negotiate the end of Mozambique’s civil
war, advance the peace process in Mindanao, and mediate between the military,
the paramilitaries, the victimized groups and the rebels in Colombia. Although
most of them had already been on the scene in various capacities, the changing
nature of the conflicts suddenly required new kinds of participation by a wide
range of nonofficial and nongovernmental actors; no longer was peacemaking
the exclusive purview of governments.
In short, a traditional peace studies approach to conflict resolution, in con-
templating root causes and structural change, tended to take the nation-state
as the primary unit of analysis. In the aftermath of the Cold War, the framing
question became: how do we adjust the scope, scale, and priorities of peace-
building to incorporate a much wider range of actors?9
AN OVERVIEW 27
In addition, practitioners of on-the-ground peacebuilding began to realize

that deadly conflicts, if they are to be transformed, require multiple points of
analysis and intervention to create sustainable change. Accordingly, peacebuild-
ers began to seek strategic alliances and coordination over the longer term,
rather than “merely” a negotiated solution. In this regard, a second framing
question for the inchoate practice of strategic peacebuilding emerged: how do
we design processes that envision conflict as the opportunity for wider con-
structive social change?10
Third, the field of play was enlarged to encompass and link two previ-
ously unlikely spheres of action: the local and the global. At the local level, the
capacity and need for communities to activate and mobilize resources to face
the realities of internal conflicts rose sharply. It was impossible to think about
peace without engaging, including, and respecting the local community.
Practitioners specialize in the dynamics of peacebuilding within the
boundaries and on the terms set by local communities, but they recognize
that local communities today always already exist within national and global
contexts. Accordingly, peacebuilders, especially during the course of the past
two decades, have become experienced in cultivating and applying human and
material resources both within and beyond the local community. Peacebuilding
practice is thus an interdisciplinary, local-global, expertise-driven approach to
building sustainable peace.
Striking the right balance is a delicate and difficult business. The rela-
tionship between the three distinct transformative processes at the heart of
peacebuilding—striving for social justice, ending violent conflict, and build-
ing healthy cooperative relationships in conflict-ridden societies—is complex.
These processes of transformation are interrelated most fundamentally at the
local level; even when violence originates and occurs at the national or regional
level, its impact is felt most keenly and directly in neighborhoods, towns, vil-
lages, cities—in local communities. To violate the principle of subsidiarity by
moving too quickly beyond the most immediate community of concern and
agency, to national or regional actors as agents of conflict management, is to
undermine any hope of genuine resolution and transformation of most con-
flicts. Bringing representatives of warring sides to peace talks typically requires
concerted effort by those wielding high levels of political and social author-
ity. But they cannot replace cultural agents who, operating on the local level,
interpret agreements and prepare the society for their implementation and the
transitions called for by the agreements.11
On the other hand, the proliferation of transnational social movements
for global-local justice influenced peace studies scholar-practitioners to think
beyond borders, to locate both the causes of conflict and potential change
agents both within and beyond nation-states. The nation-state, meanwhile,
came under increasing pressure—from “above” (the international and tran-
snational community of nations and intergovernmental and nongovernmental
organizations, institutions, and foundations), from “below” (local communi-
ties and grassroots movements for change), and from “across” (demands for
forms of autonomy at regional levels).
The principle of indigenous empowerment suggests that conflict trans-

formation must actively envision, include, respect, and promote the human
and cultural resources from within a given setting. The setting and the people
cannot be seen as the problem and the outsider as the answer. Rather, the long-
term goal of transformation demands that external agents of change take as the
primary task of accompaniment the validation of the people and the expansion
of resources within the setting.
In this regard the framing question posed by and for would-be strategic
peacebuilders was: how do we build the global movement for justice while at
the same time empowering the voice and capacity of local communities?12
Fourth, a paradigm shift came with the understanding that peacebuild-
ing requires more than management of the conflict, reduction of violence, or
agreement on political issues. Peacebuilding must address the healing of peo-
ples scarred and alienated by the lived experience of sustained violence in their
communities and nations. Healing increasingly is understood not as a post-
conflict form of therapy but as a precondition for the prevention of renewed
conflict and the transformation of destructive social and structural patterns.
Promoting reconciliation and healing as the sine qua non of peacebuilding is
predicated on a hard-won awareness that violent conflict creates deep disruption
in relationships that then need radical healing—the kind of healing that restores
the soul, the psyche, and the moral imagination. Such healing, it is recognized,
draws on profound rational, psychological, and transrational resources, espe-
cially the spiritual dimension of humanity. Its preferred modalities are there-
fore symbolic, cultural, and religious—the deepest personal and social spheres,
which directly and indirectly shape the national and political spheres.
In this respect, the framing question for strategic peacebuilding seems to
be: how do we heal broken humanity?13
The builders of a comprehensive and sustainable peace, we suggest, engage
each of these four fundamental questions, which together reflect the particular
challenges of the contemporary global condition. To illustrate these challenges
and the response offered by peacebuilding that is strategic, we consider again
our opening vignettes.
How do we adjust the scope, scale and priorities of peacebuilding in order
to incorporate a much wider range of actors?14 The timely and crucial role
of the transnational Community of Sant’Egidio in the resolution of Mozam-
bique’s civil war is by now a classic example of “track-two” diplomacy blossom-
ing into “track one”; of an outsider (who was also a partial insider) providing
the good offices, international resources, and connections conducive to moving
the negotiations from phase to phase; and of the coordinating and empowering
function of peacebuilding that is strategic.15
No stranger to the setting, Sant’Egidio had been involved with the Chris-
tian churches in Mozambique since 1976, when a young Mozambican priest
studying in Rome, Don Jaime Goncalves, joined the community. The new free-
dom of movement in Mozambique in the 1980s allowed the community to
demonstrate its neutrality, social concern, and dedication to rigorous dialogue.
Sant’Egidio representatives became personally familiar with leaders of both
AN OVERVIEW 29
warring parties and established ties to missionaries serving in the war zones
controlled by RENAMO. In 1981, Goncalves, now the archbishop of Beira, met
with Enrico Berlinguer, the secretary general of Italy’s Communist Party, who
opened a channel of dialogue between FRELIMO and Sant’Egidio. In 1982,
representatives of the community negotiated the release of missionaries REN-
AMO had taken captive; the occasion provided the opportunity for Sant’Egidio
to build a relationship of trust and credibility with the insurgents that proved
invaluable in the subsequent peace talks. In 1985, Sant’Egidio arranged a criti-
cal meeting between President Machel and Pope John Paul II.
The growing perception of Sant’Egidio as an impartial moderator and
facilitator of constructive dialogue was reinforced by the way the community
used its influence with governments and churches. The community estab-
lished networks in Italy to obtain funds and material for Mozambique and
to spread information in Europe on Mozambique’s crisis. A parallel network
soon appeared inside Mozambique itself, where Sant’Egidio members made
overtures to the Islamic as well as the Christian communities, extending its
social services and educational network across denominational and traditional
lines. In addition, community leaders went to Maputo, Mozambique’s capital,
in 1984 to discuss humanitarian needs with government ministers. The meet-
ing led to the establishment of a program, supported by the Italian government
at Sant’Egidio’s request, to deliver massive shipments of food and medicine to
the war-torn nation.
In 1986, President Machel was killed in an airplane accident and replaced
by Joaquim Chissano. Chissano recognized that there was no military solution
to the civil war; it would have to be settled through political and diplomatic
means. He also confronted a staggering debt and a worsening economic situa-
tion that the nation’s Eastern-bloc allies, preoccupied with their own economic
difficulties, were unable to assuage. Western aid was contingent on spe-
cific reforms in social, economic, and political policies. FRELIMO responded
with the Structural Adjustment Program to move Mozambique toward a free-
market economy. Prompted by the U.S. government, it also took steps to draw
up a new constitution, inviting a variety of interest groups and churches to
participate in the process.
FRELIMO moved to consolidate support from the religious community in
Mozambique with a number of concrete concessions. The state began return-
ing confiscated church properties, granted the churches permission to erect
new buildings, and opened positions within the party to religious believers.
In 1987, Sant’Egidio arranged for the pope to visit Mozambique during his
African tour. Pope John Paul II met with President Chissano on September 16,
1988, in Maputo. The pope emphasized the solidarity of the Church with the
aspirations of the Mozambican people for economic, social, cultural, and spir-
itual development, and he stressed that the role of the Church in the country
was not a form of foreign intervention but a response to the desires and inten-
tions of the people.
At this point Sant’Egidio and the Mozambican Christian Council (CCM),
which represented seventeen of the nation’s Protestant denominations, were
able to initiate peace talks to end the civil war. Late in 1987, Chissano approved
a proposal that permitted CCM to establish contact with a RENAMO delegate
in Washington, D.C. In February 1988, the CCM invited Alexandre dos Santos,
the Roman Catholic archbishop of Maputo, to join the peace delegation as
an equal member. Goncalves, the archbishop of Beira, also joined the group.
Although RENAMO consistently denied any responsibility for the continuing
atrocities in Mozambique, the delegation, known as the Peace and Reconcili-
ation Commission, became convinced that RENAMO was serious in pursu-
ing a resolution to the conflict. In 1989, peace talks were held between these
Protestant and Catholic leaders and RENAMO in Nairobi, Kenya. Although the
church-mediated talks in Nairobi did not produce a concrete outcome, they
created a new dynamic for peace by legitimating a forum in which both sides
could formulate their demands.
At this juncture, Sant’Egidio in effect became the forum for the face-
to-face talks. The first direct contact between RENAMO leadership and the
FRELIMO government took place at Sant’Egidio headquarters in Rome on
July 8, 1990. Joining Archbishop Goncalves on the mediation team were two
Sant’Egidio representatives, Andrea Riccardi and Don Mateo Zuppi. A fourth
team member, Mario Raffaelli, represented the Italian government. In concert
with the Italian government, U.S. advisors, the United Nations, and several
other governmental and nongovernmental organizations, the representatives
of Sant’Egidio were able to maintain a momentum for peace among the two
parties over the course of ten rounds of talks, which were held from 1990 to
1992 in the sixteenth-century Carmelite convent in Rome that serves as the
international headquarters for Sant’Egidio. Following two closing summits, the
General Peace Accord was signed on October 4, 1992.
Clearly, Sant’Egidio’s contributions were indeed strategic. We refer
here not only to its impartial stance but especially to its networking abil-
ity; its range of governmental and nongovernmental partners across Europe,
the United States, and Africa; its cultural and religious literacy and sophis-
tication; and above all, its capacity to mobilize resources in a timely fash-
ion at critical junctures in the march toward an agreement. It seems fair
to conclude that the expansion of actors in Mozambique’s evolution toward
peace, which included not only Sant’Egidio but also the churches and other
religious communities native to the country, was essential to effective conflict
resolution.
The link between this concern, for expanding the range of actors building
peace, and the next two questions, relating to ways of effecting larger social
change and pursuing justice—is embedded in the vignette describing the
decision of civic leaders and officials in the city of Nogales to invite extralo-
cal peacebuilders to assist in the conceptualization of the region’s challenges
and solutions. As readers will recall, the leaders of Nogales recognized that the
“local” issues confronting them—including the patterns of migration as they
affect the composition of the workforce, the health of the local economy, the
respective rights and obligations of immigrants and citizens, cultural and eth-
nic tensions, and violence—are also inevitably regional, national, and indeed
AN OVERVIEW 31
global issues. This is a complicated pattern that is being replicated in thou-

sands of “borderland” communities around the world not unlike Nogales.
The strategic peacebuilder in such cases is not only a coordinator and
network builder but a comparativist. She draws on knowledge of national
and international law, contacts in a variety of professional fields, and the
experiences of other communities in similar contexts. Yet she also depends
heavily, of course, on the local wisdom and experience of the people of
Nogales.
The skills needed for strategic peacebuilding are increasingly honed, and
named as such, by a range of professionals trained in one or more of a variety
of disciplines and areas of expertise. For example, we have peace studies col-
leagues at Notre Dame, Uppsala, Nairobi, Chiang Mai, Bogota, and elsewhere
who advise the United Nations and specific governments on counterterrorism
initiatives that favor nonviolent measures as alternatives to military operations.
These scholars and faculty experts no longer rely exclusively on intelligence
reports, aggregate data, and statistical analyses. They now depend on instan-
taneous communications and insight from the fields of conflict to stay abreast
of the constantly changing dynamics on the ground and integrate into their
recommendations and analysis the specific social and economic contexts,
victims’ experiences, human rights concerns, and justice claims of local
communities. This is peacebuilding in a globalized world, where those previ-
ously voiceless now have the capacity to be heard and measured in the decision-
making processes of so-called international elites.
How do we design processes that envision conflict as the opportunity for
wider constructive social change?16 How do we build the global movement
for justice while at the same time empowering the voice and capacity of local
communities?17 To answer these interrelated questions by way of illustration,
we consider the example of Mindanao. In that case, as in most, the prominently
visible aspect of peacebuilding is the high-level negotiations that took place.
Equally crucial, however, is a wider context of activities, roles, and initiatives
that provided an infrastructure for constructive change in Mindanao. A short
list would necessarily include the following:
1. A decade of grassroots initiatives that built relationships in local com-

munities across the important divisions among Muslim, Christian,
and indigenous Lumad groups;
2. Education and training programs in conflict transformation and
peacebuilding undertaken during this same period that reached a wide
range of civil society actors and created important links between local
peacebuilders and the representatives of both the Philippine national
army and the MILF, who on numerous occasions participated in the
workshops;
3. The careful nurturing and development of ever-widening civil soci-
ety networks dedicated to peacebuilding and human rights (e.g., the
Peaceweavers coalition, with an active constituency of more than
twenty organizations);
4. The commitment on the part of the government to create a national

office to sustain and coordinate its peace efforts beyond a particular
administration;
5. The commitment on the part of religious leaders to develop the
Bishop-Ulama Conference that has met on a regular basis for more
than a decade;
6. Sustained and long-term funding by a range of international donors
to build the local capacity and institutional platforms of the local and
regional organizations;
7. The commitment on the part of Malaysia, the MILF, and the
Philippine government to slowly but surely negotiate the basis of the
document over the course of seven years.
At the point of the collapse in negotiations, violence rose sharply and trust
decreased among the players in the formal process. At the same time, however,
the web of relationships mobilized within and around Mindanao. Sets of rela-
tionships between a variety of different actors that had not existed ten years
ago—for example, those between civil society actors, militaries on both sides,
negotiators, and the concerned international community—began to coordinate
a response to the emergency needs of the communities affected by the renewed
violence. These unofficial but critical actors mobilized conferences within and
outside Mindanao that put forward numerous proposals for reinitiating the
negotiations and the beginnings of wider consultations that moved from local
to higher levels. At the time of this writing, the outcome regarding the final
formal agreement is unknown, but the infrastructure of a multiplicity of actors
engaged in a common concern, functioned in ways unthinkable a decade
earlier. What is clear is that the final, most visible aspect of the process—the
formal negotiations—rests on the courage and creativity of not only the
negotiators but also the wider set of relationships, activities, and initiatives
that will be needed to sustain the peaceful transformation of a social, religious,
economic, and political conflict that traces its roots across centuries. This com-
mitment to a web of activity, the development of capacity for creative response,
and the high level of coordination among improbable actors represent a strik-
ing example of strategic peacebuilding.
“How do we help heal broken humanity?” is a question that cannot be
dismissed as a luxury or as the work of ex post facto humanitarian actors; it is
central to the heart of conflict transformation—if the conflict is actually to be
transformed and the transformation sustained over time. The question and
its answers are also organically connected to the questions posed previously,
for, as we shall see, “healing broken humanity” necessarily involves the strate-
gic peacebuilder in efforts to enlarge the circle of participants in peace nego-
tiations, connect the resolution of local conflicts to larger processes of social
change, and address fundamental questions of justice.
The dilemmas posed in the example of Colombia are instructive in
demonstrating this inherent link between healing broken humanity and the
pursuit of a justpeace that is, by definition, socially inclusive and transformative.
AN OVERVIEW 33
Although the Colombian government’s goal of ending paramilitarism

through negotiation is laudable, strategic peacebuilding requires that we
place those negotiations in a context of wider transformation. The guidepost
necessarily begins with and returns to the people most affected by decades of
extreme abuses of human rights and the destruction of anything approximat-
ing human security at the community level. Transformation asks the hard
questions of what kind of change is sought, for whom, and by whom? Proc-
esses that purport to improve the lives of local communities without suf-
ficient engagement of their experience, without the provision of spaces to
acknowledge their voice and concerns will, in the end, create political com-
promises and other outcomes that replicate new forms of structural violence
and social exclusion. Strategic peacebuilding requires approaches that enable
people who must live with the outcomes and decisions of negotiations to have
adequate and secure mechanisms to participate and influence the process
and the decisions.
It is no longer sufficient, that is, to fall back on the exclusive politics of old
in settings of protracted conflict that suggest the common good can be assured
by a small number of elite negotiators without meaningful participation of
those most affected. Strategic peacebuilding requires a capacity to envision and
creatively develop the mechanisms of public participation to which negotiators
are accountable. The most significant weakness of far too many peace proc-
esses has been the gap between elite levels of decision making and the com-
munities that are the recipients and inheritors of those outcomes. To build
participation and voice that forges constructive change requires a far more stra-
tegic approach, with peacebuilders striving to ensure that peace is established
via a reconstituted public space and new social contract.
With respect to the example of the Catholic Church in Colombia, consider
the variety and specificity of roles Church officials and members have been
asked to play. The key to their success as strategic peacebuilders lies in how
effectively these actors mobilize their innate and extraordinary vertical and
horizontal relationships across Colombian society to help forge new spaces of
participation, engagement, and support for those most excluded and affected
by the violence and to ensure public accountability for high-level decision mak-
ers. The healing central to peacebuilding in our era is often the restoration of
voice and presence, and it depends on the creation of spaces that redefine rela-
tionships—spaces configured by the key principles of participation and voice
for those most affected by the violence and accountability for those on all sides
who perpetrated the violence for decades.
Justice at the Core of Strategic Peacebuilding
In most settings, the effort to validate and empower local actors, even while
calling the global community to become a transparent and robust force for
peace, requires that strategic peacebuilders pay close and careful attention to
the demands of justice. Specifically, this often means considering the evidence
on the links between inequalities and violence and paying attention to the ways
inequalities are produced and reproduced within a given society.
Conflicts are more likely to escalate into violence when inequalities exist.
When access to political and economic power is not at least somewhat equally
available and distributed within a given society, conflicts are more likely to
remain latent, generating hostilities as well as more complex problems with
wider ramifications. Therefore, any attempt to end or prevent violent forms
of conflict must address power sharing and transparency of decision making
directly, including the vertical as well as horizontal power dimensions of intrac-
table conflicts.
Jackie Smith’s chapter in this volume raises the issue of power dynam-
ics in the context of the debate about the relationship between free markets,
economic growth, economic inequality, and violent conflict. Conflict trans-
formation, she contends, entails reorganizing power relations, empowering
some groups and reigning in others. Such reorganization of power relations
can happen peacefully through processes such as the creation of mechanisms
for the rule of law and fostering a human rights culture. “As global integra-
tion expands and becomes more institutionalized through trade relationships,
political and economic institutions, and global communications and exchanges
of all kinds, it is increasingly problematic to view a particular conflict without
accounting for how it is embedded in broader regional and global sets of power
relations,” Smith has argued.
Similarly, the strategic peacebuilder will work to ensure the human rights
foundation of a range of peacebuilding activities that may not explicitly advo-
cate for or use the discourse of human rights, including formal peace nego-
tiations, reconciliation work on the ground, international institution-building,
and social justice movements. Numerous analyses of truth commissions, for
instance, point to the need for strengthening civil society and extensive human
rights education to help postconflict societies rebuild and reconcile.
“Fostering human rights is a crucial part of any attempt to overcome the
inequities that divide societies,” Smith writes. “And human rights education is
also an antidote to the escalation of conflicts into violence, and so the lessons
of truth commissions might be fruitfully extended to societies that are not cur-
rently experiencing such violence.” Indeed, a strategic peacebuilding approach
should encourage these sorts of connections, “not least because conflicting
parties are embedded within broader networks of economic, political, and/or
cultural relations that may be fueling or mitigating violent tendencies.”18
Smith’s recommendations for expanding the scope of analysis is typical of
the new awareness of scholars and practitioners that an array of competencies
is required if peacebuilding is to be comprehensive and sustainable. To succeed
in fostering a justpeace, peacebuilders must nurture sustainable human rela-
tionships at every level of society—between local ethnic and religious groups,
political parties and governments, faith-based groups and NGOs, state and
international offices or agencies dedicated to conflict transformation, and so
on. In this context peacebuilding therefore requires, inter alia, various kinds of
expertise, including knowledge of international norms and institutions, global
AN OVERVIEW 35
politics, economic development, the requirements of vibrant civil societies, the

religious and cultural dynamics of deadly conflict, and religiously and culturally
nuanced methods of conflict transformation. Accordingly, any comprehensive
effort to build sustainable peace must draw on the experiences and writings of
reflective practitioners and scholars working in the fields of conflict resolution,
security studies, human rights advocacy, international law, and economic devel-
opment, as well as psychological studies, trauma healing, ethnic and cultural
studies, and religion and spirituality. These disciplines are not often marshaled
together in the same enterprise, but, as we argue, strategic peacebuilding thrives
on such unlikely alliances.
This confluence of actors, competencies, and resources underscores our
definition of peacebuilding as a set of complementary practices aimed at trans-
forming a society riddled by violent conflict, inequality, and other systemic
forms of injustice into a society oriented toward forging a justpeace. Strategic
peacebuilding encompasses practices of mediation and conflict resolution that
bring a stop to open warfare, as well as measures to perpetuate peace agree-
ments (monitoring, enforcing, and the like), demobilization of armed parties,
accountability for human rights violators, economic development, reconcilia-
tion efforts, and the resettlement of displaced peoples. It also involves a mul-
tiplicity of institutions, including international nongovernmental and civil
society organizations and religious groups.
Taking all these factors into account and attempting to discern a path for-
ward is a formidable task. If peacebuilding begins and ends with the local, even
while calling the national and international communities to reform; is attuned
to culture and cultural particularity; envisions and unfolds within a long-term,
even multigenerational horizon of change; draws consistently on a array of
competencies; and requires the art of healing and reconciliation of victimized
peoples, it is indeed a vast undertaking!
We come then to the key framing question: out of this vastness, how does
the word strategic enhance the art of peacebuilding?
The Art of Strategic Peacebuilding
As we have seen, a multiplicity of actors, originating from and working at all

levels of society, with different capacities and areas of expertise, constitutes
the reality of peacebuilding today. None of these actors, considered in isolation
from the others, has provided the conditions for a sustainable and compre-
hensive peace in societies divided or threatened by violence. Their collective
efficacy increases, however, when they work together—that is, when their oper-
ations are interdependent and coordinated to some degree.
That, at least, is the conclusion of the Human Security Report (HSR), the
most extensive, comprehensive, and conclusive study of peacebuilding to date.
In accounting for the gradual reduction in wars and other forms of deadly
violence in recent years, HSR author Andrew Mack writes: “Not one of the
peacebuilding and conflict prevention programs on its own had much of an
impact on global security in this period. Taken together, however, their effect
has been profound.”19
Both the extant literature on peacebuilding and the direct experience of
observing and mediating conflict on the ground compels us to take Mack’s
dictum one step further: the effectiveness of peacebuilding operations in
stimulating the kind of constructive social change that promotes a justpeace
increases dramatically when the efforts of the many relevant actors, aware of
their unique contributions, find points of coordination—and, where possible,
integrate their efforts—around a vision of systemic change that depends on
dynamic interdependencies. Peacebuilding becomes strategic when initia-
tives, whether from below, above, inside, or out, begin to link and coordinate
with differentiated spaces and processes to effect the wider desired change.
In a word, constructive transformation unfolds in relational spaces. Strategic
peacebuilding requires the capacity to envision and encourage the intentional
confluence—the flowing together—of improbably related processes and peo-
ple toward constructive change.
Indeed, this focused definition of strategic features an improbable,
atypical, unconventional element. The honorable and effective work of
peacebuilding can and does occur in the absence of what we call strategic
conceptualizing and planning by scholars, policy makers, nongovernmen-
tal officials, and the like. But bringing together, say, religious leaders and
trauma therapists to pursue the healing of memories, World Bank analysts
and subsistence farmers to fashion local development projects, government
housing officials and slum dwellers to negotiate urban reform measures—
bringing such disparate actors together under the right circumstances
and with a strategy in hand for dynamic coordination and collaboration—
requires the kind of creative and innovative thinking called for by the
current world context. Such exercises in relationship building are precisely
the kind of improbable alliances to be fashioned by the moral imagination
and technical expertise of the strategic peacebuilder. Indeed, what makes
the operation strategic is precisely the flowing together of people and proc-
esses who would not normally come together or head in the same direction,
who now collaborate to realize a horizon of possible measures to reduce
violence and advance justice.20
The phrase “strategic peacebuilding” requires clarity and precision
about the change goals sought in a given context. In pursuit of those goals,
relational spaces are then explored. The practice of strategic peacebuilding
develops around the critical question of “who” and “what types of proc-
esses” will be needed to initiate, develop, and sustain the desired trans-
formation. Our assumption is simple: in settings of deep-rooted conflict,
pursuing transformation requires an alliance of key people and processes
that converge in a more precise and coordinated way on the overall desired
change. It requires us, no matter our expertise or access within the wider sys-
tem, to recognize that the quality of the change process we seek depends on
bringing together key relationships and influence that would not naturally
converge.
AN OVERVIEW 37
Strategic peacebuilders therefore are intentional in thinking carefully about

a range of resources and relationships that go beyond their natural niche,
their most immediate circle of influence, access, and exchange. This does not
mean that any specific activity, research, or approach is not important on its
own; it simply means that “strategic peacebuilding” must build toward a com-
mon, coordinated set of goals. These common goals are configured within the
specific connotations of “strategic.”
To put it negatively, under what conditions would the word strategic not
apply? First, thinking and acting is not strategic when the time horizon is too
narrow or constricted. Let us imagine the plight of a U.S. artillery colonel in
Baghdad tasked with discerning a path to “reconciliation” (as called for in the
Iraq Study Group Report of November 2006). Were he to approach the situ-
ation solely by considering the immediate goals to be accomplished for U.S.
forces to withdraw from Iraq—such as ensuring security for the Iraqi people,
training the Iraqi police force, stabilizing key neighborhoods, and so on—the
colonel’s recommendations might have been considered prudent or even “tac-
tical” in service of short-term political purposes. But by failing to comprehend
the bigger picture, especially what would serve the long-term interests of sta-
bility, security, and peace in the region, such calculations would fall dreadfully
short of the standards of strategic peacebuilding.21
Second, research or practice that focuses narrowly on one aspect of change
within the larger historic cycles of violence or structural injustice is hardly
strategic. In the service of postviolence reconciliation, for example, offers of
amnesty or forgiveness made in the effort to prevent the recurrence of violence
can be considered strategic only if they are coordinated or integrated with a
commitment to retributive and restorative measures designed to uphold and
strengthen the rule of law.22
To illustrate this point, we return to our opening example regarding
the Catholic Church in Colombia. Although the Church may fulfill a short-
term role by monitoring the process of demobilization of paramilitaries, that
role defined in the narrow sense does not constitute strategic peacebuild-
ing. Given the Church’s accompaniment of local displaced communities,
access to government officials, and direct relationships with armed groups,
the key to acting strategically is found in how processes and roles are inte-
grated toward a wider transformation of the historic patterns of conflict and
violence. Strategic action requires considering how the process of demobili-
zation sparks and sustains acknowledgment of past harms and processes of
increased transparency and appropriate forms of reparation for those most
harmed. These requirements imply that government programs move beyond
rote application of narrowly defined negotiations toward initiatives that bring
forward into the public arena processes that embrace the challenge of look-
ing truthfully at human rights abuses and responsibilities. Such processes
are engaged with local communities affected by the waves of violence and
seeking reparation. In other words, the narrow role of monitoring cannot be
isolated from the wider potential of transformation that involves and links
national government, local communities, and the transition of militias away
from violence—all spaces of relationships that the Church can mobilize and
encourage through an ethical and moral imagination that requires dialogue,
advocacy, and public leadership.
Third, approaches that are issue-dependent must take cognizance of their
“echo effect” in related areas of the conflict. Research or practices that seek to
forge solutions or end disputes—such as alternative dispute resolution prac-
tices—must take strategic measure of their implications for other official and
unofficial mediation practices, police reform, and the like.23
Fourth, peacebuilding initiatives that are focused exclusively on a particu-
lar social sector or level must be integrated with initiatives at other levels. To
be considered duly strategic, for example, grassroots/community-level peace-
building measures must proceed with an informed awareness of the dynamics
and intended outcomes of elite-based negotiations. Similarly, attempted politi-
cal change based on a worldview in which the nation-state is the primary or
exclusive actor has repeatedly failed, not least because the worldview was not
sufficiently inclusive and comprehensive.24
To illustrate the point, we consider the virtual impossibility of a break-
through occurring in Mindanao in the absence of an innovative approach that
resists confining the circle of participants to the government and “the opposi-
tion.” In fact, the situation is complicated by many players, both within and
beyond state borders. Strategic mediation must consider the potential for the
outbreak of conflict on any or all of these levels, and the interests of key players
at each one.
To make peacebuilding strategic, in short, requires that research and prac-
tice employ a comprehensive perspective that does not restrict the inquiry/
practice to the immediate presenting concern but embeds it in a systemic,
encompassing analysis. All of the areas mentioned become more strategic if
they are time expansive (e.g., they take account of historic patterns, dynam-
ics of exclusion and oppression, historic experiences of trauma, and so on);
systemically oriented (i.e., they embed understanding within a multifaceted
structural view of change); and multidependent (i.e., linking people, move-
ments, levels, phenomena in a process that includes interdependence but
strains for something greater, such as principled collaboration for the com-
mon good).
To repeat: we are not arguing that research and practices that engage
particular timeframes of action or levels of work are not important on their
own. We are suggesting that if they do not include a robust inquiry into the
“wider and deeper,” then they are aspects of peacebuilding without the qualifier
“strategic.”
Five Suggestions for Practitioners
What practical suggestions can we make for those currently working to build
peace within their particular niche, area of expertise or issue, and who seek to
become strategic? Speaking directly to the practitioners, we can identify five.
AN OVERVIEW 39
First, the cornerstone of strategic practice is the act of locating oneself

within the wider system of conflict and change. Without a comprehensive
vision of the landscape, it is impossible to see clearly your particular contribu-
tion, the importance of other sectors and initiatives, or the points of coordina-
tion and convergence that must be forged. To do otherwise is like arguing that
what matters most for the sound performance of a boat is a good rudder, sail, or
hull. Systemically, they are all needed and need each other. The least strategic
approach is to believe that you and your particular contribution are the only
ones that exist, matter, or should be given priority.
Second, learn to think about your goals in reference to change processes
that build and transform constructively those things that most concern you.
When you develop a capacity to envision peacebuilding as change processes
that lead to desired transformation, you will naturally notice and identify much
more clearly the key relational spaces, alliances, and influences that are needed
and mutually interdependent for achieving those goals.
Third, focus on clusters of influence and contribution around the change
goals. Cluster thinking requires you to reflect on sets of people and platforms
that would need to align to affect a more robust change process. The most effec-
tive change processes are those that integrate unusual sets of people in a com-
mon direction. For example, when key businessmen in South Africa began to
align with social change activists, apartheid cracked. This was by no means the
only thing that created the change, but this clustering of influence contributed
a unique and what we would call strategic impact on the overall situation.
Retain the idea of contribution as opposed to attribution. Too often, peace-
builders worry about getting credit or laying claim to the outcome of a particular
process. System change happens when sets of influences align, each contribut-
ing and affecting their sector and the whole. Attribution, within a systems view,
is senseless and potentially counterproductive because it requires one to locate
a single cause and effect. Strategic thinking understands that transformation
flows through multiple causes and effects.
Fourth, identify system change facilitators or existing spaces where system
change converges. A system change facilitator, as we call it, refers to a role (not
necessarily found in a single person or institution) within the system that pays
attention to the multiple changes processes happening simultaneously. This
role consists of identifying the needs of the change processes in the system,
imagining creative ways to support those changes process, and how and when
they may converge toward wider, sustained change. In a complex system like
peacebuilding, we have too few spaces that notice and create points of coordi-
nation for strategic impact. Specific activities include identifying and prioritiz-
ing strategic change processes, naming the gaps and needs in promoting and
sustaining those change processes and supporting them with corresponding
resources, creating and encouraging a strategic convergence of processes, and
staying vigilant about the bigger picture.
Fifth, develop a capacity to think simultaneously rather than sequentially.
Most peacebuilding programs and initiatives develop around some form of
sequential thinking, that is, we first do A, then B, then eventually C. The logic
of this approach is its capacity to provide phases and deliverable programs.

The dynamic of change and social transformation is rarely if ever logical or
linear, however. Thus the weakness inherent in sequential planning is its
limited capacity to see emerging and unexpected interdependencies related
to change within the wider system. The capacity to notice simultaneity—the
attentiveness to the ways in which A, B, and C are happening at the same
time—increases one’s ability to identify the various aspects of change that
eventually will be needed, nurture their development along the way even
though they are not currently connected, and watch for opportune moments
where they may converge.
Conclusion: Five Principles of Strategic Peacebuilding
To summarize our argument, we conclude by reviewing five principles under-

lying the peacebuilding conceptual framework we have presented in this chap-
ter. These principles animate the basic philosophy of peacebuilding at its most
robust and provide a guideline for assessing the strategic weight of specific
initiatives.
First, strategic peacebuilding is comprehensive. This principle commits us
to develop the lenses that permit us to see the overall picture of needs, actions,
vision, and design—the architecture of peacebuilding. We must be able to step
back from the day-to-day swirl of crises and reactions to situate ourselves, as
well as events, in the broader flow of the vision and purpose of our efforts.
Second, strategic peacebuilding is interdependent. This principle proposes
that peacebuilding is connected to the nature and quality of relationships. It is
a system of interconnected people, roles, and activities: no one person, activity,
or level is capable of designing and delivering peace on its own. All things are
linked and mutually affect one another. Interdependence seeks to build the
relationships necessary for pursuing and sustaining desired change. In specific
terms, this often means that we must develop processes that link and relate
dissimilar concerns and activities and that forge relationships between people
who are not like-minded.
Third, strategic peacebuilding is architectonic, that is, it pays attention to
design and infrastructure. This principle demands that we provide the social
spaces, logistical mechanisms, and institutions necessary for supporting the
processes of change engendered to pursue a justpeace. Peacebuilding infra-
structure can be likened to the foundation and pillars that hold up a house.
In this instance the foundations are people, their relationships, and the social
spaces needed to support the processes of change from division and violence to
increased ownership and responsibility for the building of peace. Infrastructure
creates the platform that enables processes to weather the immediate intensity
of permanently emerging crises while pursuing with patience the slow, long-
term desired change.
Fourth, strategic peacebuilding is sustainable. This principle emphasizes
the long-term concern for where our activity and energy is leading. Rather than
AN OVERVIEW 41
thinking only in terms of immediate effective responses to issues and crises,

sustainability requires that we think in terms of what creates ongoing capac-
ity within the setting for responding to and transforming recurring cycles of
conflict and crisis. Drawing inspiration from appropriate technology, sustain-
able peacebuilding seeks to discover and strengthen the resources rooted in the
context of the protracted conflict.
Fifth, strategic peacebuilding is integrative. This principle pushes us beyond
the visible aspects of any given activity and requires that we situate the design
and assessment of peacebuilding action in terms of how it links immediate
need with the desired vision of change. To seek integration means to gauge
how to respond proactively to emerging, dynamic social situations such that we
are responsive to immediate concerns and needs, while at the same time rein-
forcing the platform supportive of change processes. We are crisis-responsive,
not crisis-driven. Striving for integration of people and resources raises analytic
inquiries to the level of the strategic who, what, where, and how of any activ-
ity. It requires of peacebuilders a more comprehensive view of the situation in
terms of levels, timeframes, processes, and their respective roles/activities.
Achieving a minimal consensus on a comprehensive definition of strategic
peacebuilding, we believe, is a first step toward deepening the transformative
agency of peacebuilding and establishing it as a guiding concept for practi-
tioners, policy makers, and scholars.
Thus we find it appropriate and heartening that the chapters in this volume
address a wide range of topics, themes, and activities not always included in
the same conversation—including debates about the relationship between eco-
nomic growth, democratization, and violence reduction; the role of religious
actors in transforming conflict; the relationship between counterterrorism,
sanctions, and peacebuilding; and the ways of strengthening the peacebuild-
ing agency of the United Nations. All of these are part of peacebuilding in
its most comprehensive and sustainable form—the mode of peacebuilding,
that is, which we indicate by the adjective strategic. That the authors collec-
tively illustrate the convergences of these various themes and topics within the
parameters of one coherent conversation and, furthermore, take steps toward
imagining their possible confluences, is—how shall we put it?—improbable.
Thus, we begin.
NOTES
1. What is peace? is a question asked continually, not least by people working

actively for it in their personal and professional lives, including the authors in this
volume. The question is complicated but hardly impossible to answer. One can discern
something approaching a consensus among mainstream secular and religious thinkers,
which identifies the conditions for the elimination of deadly violence and the develop-
ment of local and national communities that respect the dignity of each individual and
promote authentic human flourishing. These conditions include the absence of war and
other forms of deadly violence, such as violations of human dignity by state or nonstate
actors (i.e., negative peace) and extends to basic human security, access to food and
clean drinking water, housing, justly compensated employment, education, and other
expressions of positive peace. See, inter alia, Chester A. Crocker, Fen Osler Hampson,
and Pamela Aall, eds., Turbulent Peace: The Challenges of Managing International Conflict
(Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace Press, 2001); Louis Kriesberg, Constructive
Conflicts: From Escalation to Resolution (Lanham, Md.: Rowman & Littlefield, 1998); John
Paul Lederach, Building Peace: Sustainable Reconciliation in Divided Societies (Washington,
D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace Press, 1997); and Oliver Ramsbotham, Tom Woodhouse,
and Hugh Miall, Contemporary Conflict Resolution: The Prevention, Management and
Transformation of Deadly Conflicts, 2nd ed. (Cambridge, UK: Polity, 2005).
2. See, inter alia, Elizabeth Cousens, Peacebuilding as Politics: Cultivating Peace in
Fragile Societies (Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 2001); Michael Pugh, Regeneration of
War Torn Societies (Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire: Macmillan; New York:
St. Martin’s Press, 2000).
3. John Paul Lederach, “Justpeace: The Challenge of the 21st Century,” in People
Building Peace (Utrecht: European Centre for Conflict Prevention, 1999). See also
Pierre Allan and Alexis Keller, eds., What Is a Just Peace? (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2006); and Chadwick Alger and Michael Stohl, eds., A Just Peace through Trans-
formation: Cultural, Economic, and Political Foundations for Change (Proceedings of the
International Peace Research Association, Eleventh General Conference, University
of Sussex, 1986). The idea that peaceful change must address both root causes and
transform violent expressions of conflict has been present for many years in peace
studies literature and beyond. Roman Catholic Social Teaching, especially sections of
the encyclicals of Pope John XXIII, Pope Paul VI, and Pope John Paul II, can be read
as commentaries on Paul VI’s admonition: “If you want peace, work for justice.” The
literature of peace studies, including the titles cited previously in these notes, with
its focus on root causes of conflict, has consistently expressed a concern that peace
not be understood as a static concept of tranquility on the surface but must address
root causes requiring a rigorous inquiry into the interplay of justice and peace. See,
for example, Johan Galtung, “A Structural Theory of Imperialism,” Journal of Peace
Research 8: 81–117; and Adam Curle, True Justice: Quaker Peace Makers and Peace Mak-
ing (London: Invicta Press, 1981). Glen Stassen coined the phrase “just peacemaking”
as the overarching nomenclature that articulated the multifaceted nature of peacebuild-
ing that must include elements that both advocate for needed change while reducing
reliance on violence as the only way to produce the change or respond to conflict. See
Glen Stassen, Just Peacemaking (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1992).
Within the conflict transformation field, John Paul Lederach initiated a framework for
peacebuilding that explicitly argued for the convergence of nonviolent activism, often
framed as efforts to raise awareness and escalate conflict from out of a latent state of
passivity as part of the necessary work for justice, and mediation, often seen as a mech-
anism to deescalate acute conflict and violence. He referred to this convergent space
as a transformational approach to conflict and peacebuilding. Lederach proposed the
use of a single word, justpeace, to highlight the significant need to focus more carefully
on the gap, particularly within the practice of peacebuilding, that the professional field
of conflict resolution has evolved greater capacity through negotiation and mediation
to lower violence but has not equally evolved a capacity to increase justice in human
relationships, structures, and institutions. See John Paul Lederach, Preparing for Peace
(Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 1995). Lisa Schirch links the goal of just-
peace with strategic peacebuilding in a comprehensive overview that brings together a
much wider array of approaches and specialty areas in the field. See Lisa Schirch, The
Little Book of Strategic Peacebuilding (Intercourse, Penn.: Good Books, 2004).
AN OVERVIEW 43
4. John Darby, ed., Violence and Reconstruction (Notre Dame, Ind.: University
of Notre Dame Press, 2005); John Darby, The Effects of Violence on Peace Processes
(Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace Press, 2001).
5. John Paul Lederach, The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Building Peace
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2005).
6. For trenchant criticism of the UN peacekeeping operations in the 1990s, see
William Shawcross, Deliver Us from Evil: Peacekeepers, Warlords and a World of Endless
Conflict (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2000).
7. See “The Water and Conflict Bibliography” funded by the Carnegie Foundation
and hosted by the Pacific Institute (http://biblio.pacinst.org/conflict).
8. Martin Wolf, Why Globalization Works (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University
Press, 2004).
9. See, inter alia, Morton Deutsch and Peter T. Coleman, eds., The Handbook
of Conflict Resolution: Theory and Practice (San Francisco, Calif.: Jossey-Bass, 2000);
Edward Newman and Albrecht Schnabel, eds., Recovering from Civil Conflict: Reconcilia-
tion, Peace, and Development (Portland, Ore.: F. Cass, 2002).
10. Schirch, The Little Book of Strategic Peacebuilding; I. William Zartman, ed.,
Peacemaking in International Conflict: Methods and Techniques (Washington, D.C.: U.S.
Institute of Peace, 2007); Lederach, The Moral Imagination.
11. Caritas Internationalis, the worldwide Catholic relief and development organi-
zation, has developed significant expertise in conflict transformation and peacebuild-
ing. Its how-to manual and conceptual guide to the topic, Working for Reconciliation:
A Caritas Handbook 1999, makes explicit the centrality of grassroots agency: “As we
look back on the history of peacemaking and peace processes we see that they have
traditionally centered on diplomacy, mediation, the cessation of hostilities and the
achievement of peace agreements. These things we are all familiar with. Once a peace
agreement is signed the diplomats and mediators go home and parties to the conflict
get on with life under the terms of the peace agreement. This is not sufficient any more.”
What must be developed, the handbook continues, are cohorts of indigenous
peacebuilders—agents for nonviolent change who, as members of the society experi-
encing strife, have a vested and long-term interest in applying their irreplaceable local
knowledge to the tasks of social transformation and hoped-for reconciliation. Such
local and regional conciliators have become essential actors “because peace settle-
ments do not bring about the required change of heart, which is the crux of peace,
particularly in complex internal conflicts.” Brian Starken, ed., Working for Reconcilia-
tion: A Caritas Handbook (Vatican City: Caritas Internationalis, 1999), 4.
12. John Paul Lederach, The Little Book of Conflict Transformation (Intercourse,
Pa.: Good Books, 2004).
13. Barry Hart, ed., Peacebuilding in Traumatized Societies (New York: University
Press of America, 2008); Carolyn Yoder, The Little Book of Trauma Healing (Inter-
course, Pa.: Good Books, 2006).
14. See, inter alia, Deutsch and Coleman, Handbook of Conflict Resolution; New-
man and Schnabel, Recovering from Civil Conflict.
15. This account of Sant’Egidio’s role in ending the civil war in Mozambique is
adapted from R. Scott Appleby, The Ambivalence of the Sacred: Religion, Violence, and
Reconciliation (Lanham, Md.: Rowman & Littlefield, 2000), 158–164.
16. Schirch, The Little Book of Strategic Peacebuilding; Zartman, Peacemaking in
International Conflict; Lederach, The Moral Imagination.
17. Lederach, The Little Book of Conflict Transformation.
18. Jackie Smith, personal communication.
19. Andrew Mack, ed., Human Security Report 2005: War and Peace in the 21st
Century (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005).
20. Lederach, Building Peace.
21. See, for example, Gerard F. Powers, “Our Moral Duty: How Would U.S. With-
drawal Affect the Iraqi People,” America, 198, no. 5 (February 18, 2008).
22. For the basic themes of the debate, see, inter alia, C. Dale White, Making a
Just Peace: Human Rights and Domination Systems (Nashville, Tenn.: Abingdon Press,
1998); Priscilla Hayner, Unspeakable Truths: Confronting State Terror and Atrocity (New
York and London: Routledge, 2001); Neil J. Kritz, ed., Transitional Justice: How Emerg-
ing Democracies Reckon with Former Regimes (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace
Press, 1995); and A. James McAdams, ed., Transitional Justice and the Rule of Law in
New Democracies (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1997).
23. Among the key recommendations that emerge from this view is the impor-
tance for state- and national-level actors to engage the basic premises of strategic
peacebuilding, requiring that they more fully embrace the paradox of their agency.
Strategic peacebuilding requires the practicality of the interest-based pragmatists
in reference to programmatic response to core challenges while at the same time
nurturing the moral imagination necessary to envision constructive change as spaces
of interaction that encourage and sustain a wider participation of improbable peo-
ple and processes. This is particularly true of high-level negotiations whose primary
weakness has been the lack of imagination for how a wider public can be informed, be
engaged, and have points of access into the framing and delivery of processes that so
affect their lives. Typically, this is seen only as a literal afterthought of peace accords.
Strategic peacebuilding forges the kind of imagination that envisions the nature of
change and locates key constituencies that will need to be included and supported
early and often in the process. In practical terms, it requires innovation in how state-
level processes make visible and include multilevel and multisector connections.
24. Analyses of peacebuilding operations from various perspectives and levels
of sympathy include Michael Doyle and Nicholas Sambanis, Making War and Building
Peace: United Nations’ Peace Operations (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press,
2006); Elizabeth M. Cousens and Chetan Kumar, Peacebuilding as Politics: Cultivating
Peace in Fragile Societies (Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 2001); Oliver Richmond and
Henry Carey, Subcontracting Peace: The Challenges of the NGO Peacebuilding (Aldershot,
Hampshire, U.K.: Ashgate, 2005); Roland Paris, At War’s End: Building Peace after
Civil Conflict (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004); Fen Osler Hampson,
Nurturing Peace: Why Peace Settlements Succeed or Fail (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute
of Peace Press, 1996).
2
Strategic Peacebuilding:
Concepts and Challenges
Peter Wallensteen
Peacebuilding is one of the novel terms in political discourse that actu-

ally has a longer history, for instance, in the early work of Galtung.1 It
is parallel to concepts such as security community, which also stem
from an academic concern.2 When conditions require, such terms
take on a political dimension and become operational in ways often
not anticipated by the original inventor of the concept. Peacebuilding
today is one such urgent concern. It is not difficult to explain why. The
Uppsala Conflict Data Program has identified 121 armed conflicts,
that is, small or large wars, since 1989; and 231 since the end of World
War II. By historical standards this is a staggering amount. At its peak,
in the early 1990s, there were 51 armed conflicts waged around the
planet at the same time. In 2005 the number was “down” to 31. Since
the end of the Cold War, a majority of UN member states have had a
war on their territory or have had their nationals in a war. Including
member states’ engagement in international peacekeeping efforts,
dealing with war today is a universally shared concern.3
Wars in seemingly distant places affect the entire planet. The
major refugee flows come from wars, the largest one at the end of
2006 being the exodus from Iraq into neighboring countries but also
into the European Union.4 Furthermore, refugees from wars may face
greater difficulties in returning after the triggering event than would
be the case for those displaced because of natural disasters. Politics,
economic conditions, and social demands all enter into their situa-
tion. They may become permanent diasporas that play a political role
in their host country’s relations to their home state. This is only one
example of how such events have major repercussions. Thus, peace is
a benefit to all and as a consequence, peacebuilding is a global issue.
Research into the conditions of peacebuilding still is fairly limited. The

events of the 1990s have sparked renewed concern on the conditions of peace-
building as well as strategies that could be potentially useful for international,
regional, and local actors. In the policy debate as well as in the scholarly com-
munity there have emerged numerous concepts of peacebuilding and appro-
priate strategies. In this chapter, a selected set of concepts of peacebuilding
are discussed to contribute to increased consistency. Also, thoughts on policy
strategies will be presented together with ideas on urgent research needs.
An example of the need for research concerns the issue of the actual reduc-
tion of armed conflicts since the early 1990s. This has been attributed to the
involvement of the international community. These conflicts have not been
ended by themselves or even by the parties. International efforts have been
central for the creation of peace, through mediation, negotiations, peace agree-
ments, and peace arrangements. This seems to demonstrate that international
efforts can succeed in reducing the incidence of war. The Human Security
Report 2005 (HSR) presented these arguments.5 They have gained considerable
acceptance, and parallel, for instance, the results of the high-level panel of the
UN secretary general, which suggested the formation of the UN Peacebuild-
ing Commission on the basis of similar findings. This commission is now in
operation.6 Still, conclusive, scholarly based proof of the connection is lacking.
HSR demonstrates a reverse covariation: as international peacemaking activi-
ties go up, the number of conflicts goes down. It also shows that other plausible
explanations, such as increased economic wealth and growth in the number of
democratically ruled states, do not follow the same patterns. These finding are
made on a global and macro level of analysis. The literature on actual interven-
tions tells a more rugged history with less straightforward successes. Thus,
further study is warranted on the correlation of global, regional, and local levels
to validate the role of the international community, but the conclusion of the
HSR is the most authoritative for the time being.7
Peacebuilding and the Conflict Typology
The understanding of peacebuilding has become a major challenge to the

international community. Peacekeeping missions have been supplemented
with peacebuilding functions. Clearly, this refers to postwar situations. This
is drawn from one of the earlier definitions, the one by UN Secretary Gen-
eral Boutros Boutros-Ghali in 1992, when the phrase actually was “postconflict
peacebuilding” and concerned “action to identify and support structures which
will tend to strengthen and solidify peace in order to avoid a relapse into con-
flict.”8 In principle, this implies that there are preconflict peacebuilding efforts
as well. Possibly these could be defined as preventive measures, actions by the
international community to contain the emergence of new wars. In later usage
the word postconflict has been incorporated into the delimitation of peacebuild-
ing. It makes sense to refer only to postwar actions, although they, of course,
also have a long-term ambition to prevent the emergence of renewed conflict
CONCEPTS AND CHALLENGES 47
by the same parties over the same issues. The international efforts and much of
scholarly understanding have come to concentrate on postwar situations. Thus,
it is important to scrutinize such war situations first to then be able to encircle
and define peacebuilding as a general concept.
There are differences in the type of conflict that have an impact on how
actors and scholars can conduct a discussion on peacebuilding strategies. A
typology of conflicts will assist in categorizing different peacebuilding efforts
before we can settle for a general definition.9
The post–Cold War conflicts over Liberia, Burundi, Haiti, and Sierra Leone
are often given as typical examples of challenging situations for peacebuilding
tasks. These cases all share the need for the reconstruction of a society after a
protracted internal war. Peacebuilding in this case entails the reforming of state
structures, and also bringing together factions that have been fighting for a
long time. Issues of war crimes, reconciliation, as well as economic reconstruc-
tion are high on the agenda. The list of activities is long. These are situations
where we also find peacekeeping missions (by the UN or by regional organiza-
tions) engaged in multidimensional tasks. Internal conflicts have become a
major concern for peacebuilding theorizing. This category definitely deserves
attention. In much writing, however, it seems to be the only category that is
referred to.
However, there are other situations as well, one of which is the creation of
entirely new states as a result of conflict. An example of an unsolved conflict is
the Israel–Palestine conflict, but this category also includes the separation of
Eritrea from Ethiopia after a long war inside the then-existing Ethiopian state
seemingly ended that conflict. Other, not terminated situations that concern
the status of particular territories and where state boundaries might be affected
are, for instance, those over Northern Ireland; the conflict between Sri Lanka
and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam; the conflict over the Basque prov-
inces and their status in Spain; and the one over Abkhazia in Georgia. A ques-
tion to ask is whether the task of peacebuilding in this type of conflict would
be the same as the one of reconstructing a country torn by civil conflict. In
reality, a potential or agreed territorial separation actually involves the recon-
struction of the former central state as well as the construction of an entirely
new unit. There is a dual state-building activity, and peacebuilding would then
rather refer to the management of the relations between the two new entities.
The renewed war between Ethiopia and Eritrea less than seven years after the
agreed separation testifies to the significance of this. It also illustrates the lack
of effective peacebuilding action. Very little attention was paid to this relation-
ship internationally following the dissolution of Ethiopia and the ending of the
war in 1991.
Then, there are the classical interstate wars. They are not that many today,
but the category remains very important, as exemplified by a most recent one:
the 2003 war between the United States and its allies on the one hand and
Iraq under Saddam Hussein on the other. This conflict has then transformed
itself into an internationalized civil war and also contains features of a poten-
tial break-up of the state. This is an exceptional situation. In this category of
conflicts more typical are territorial conflicts, for instance, over border issues.
There are also cases that involve internal affairs, such as the removal of an
entire government. This provides for a set of different challenges to peacebuild-
ing efforts that require further elaboration. Even if the removal of a dictator
may be immediately applauded, the long-term presence and dependence on
external actors may create resentment and color internal dynamics.
Obviously, the tasks are many following a war. The proliferation of con-
cepts tells us that. Many of them center on the functions of the state. The state
is central to many wars, whether they concern the control of government or
a particular piece of territory.10 Thus, peacebuilding will have to deal with the
state. This means that when confronting a case of peacebuilding, an important
first question to ask is whether this involves a significant state-building compo-
nent. As already observed, most references today are to peacebuilding within
states, which often means exactly this: there is an important element of state
reconstruction involved. Thus, we have to consider the issue of the state when
developing a terminology for peacebuilding.
Peacebuilding and the State
There are good reasons to concentrate on the state, as it has a set of unique
functions that are relevant for postwar conditions. These concern such matters
as maintaining a monopoly of violence, generation of tax revenue, exerting ter-
ritorial authority, and providing legitimacy of decision making. There are dif-
ferent peacebuilding dimension for each of these elements of the state. Thus,
peacebuilding has to be understood as an activity covering many sectors, and,
in theory and practice, making them interact in reinforcing dynamics.
A common conception found in leading literature points to one of the
key elements, that is, state-building, but as a more limited task, for instance, of
reforming state structures, establishing noncorrupt practices, and fairness and
transparency in governmental transactions. There is also a separate concern
aimed at democracy-building: creating specific political structures and a politi-
cal culture in line with predominant thinking in the world today. Democracy-
building could be said to cover the input factor into a state’s policy making,
responding to such issues as how policies are made, the degree of popular
representation, whether equal access is guaranteed, how and when elections
are conducted, and so on. The concept of state-building could then be limited to
the output side of policies, giving answers to questions about how decisions are
made, how they are implemented, and by whom. The rule of law is an obvious
element in this, actually relevant both for the input and output sides, but it also
relates to the next aspect.11
Highly related are the issues of the security sector and its reforming, what
could be called security-building. It is a matter of reconstructing a state after
a war and considering its territorial authority. Will the postwar regime actu-
ally exert control over the territory under its formal control, with what means,
and how are those means checked? In any war, the security services (be they
the military, the police, the intelligence operations, paramilitary activities, or

revolutionary armies) have national priority. During the war, they are the ones
with the first access to resources, decision making, and privileges. The postwar
conditions challenge many of these advantages and thus make such sectors
problematic to deal with. There is a civilian–military relationship that has to
be established, which will affect the state structures that are created and the
scope for democracy-building. There are also other priorities in society, making
the demobilization of the armed forces a necessity. Military leadership as well
as ordinary soldiers may find this difficult, and they also believe that the civil
economy has little to offer.
These concerns are different from what is customarily referred to as nation-
building, which deals with the creation of a common attitude of belonging
together, possibly healing the divides and wounds that the war left behind, a
more “soft” aspect than the “hard” ones of (re)creating state structures and
dealing with postwar security. This ambition could be said to focus on the legit-
imacy of the new postwar arrangement. Reconciliation includes the recogni-
tion of past wrongdoings and an incorporation of the perspectives of the other
side.12 The expectation is that a unifying nation-building effort will improve
relations in a society in the long run, and thus make the new conditions more
acceptable to all. This is a tall order, of course, and it is likely to be the more
complex the more there is of ethnic diversity and experience of recent ethni-
cally defined conflict.
Nation-building is likely to be more possible if the state formation con-
flict has a colonial nature, where the polarization is between a distant center
(colonial metropolis) and a local liberation movement, than when it has to do
with a nearby center with more interspersed populations. There is a difference
between the decolonization movements of the 1950s and 1960s in Africa and
the separation movements of Biafra, Bangladesh, or the Tamil Tigers during
the following decades. These have often not been accepted by the original anti-
colonial movements as equally legitimate. Eritrea and East Timor are interest-
ing cases where the liberation movement was waged as an anticolonial struggle
(having had different colonial masters than the central government at the time,
i.e., Ethiopia and Indonesia) and thus had more popular legitimacy. Interna-
tionally, these two movements and the following creation of new states were not
accepted until after the end of the Cold War, when the national center changed
its mind (after the fall of the Mengistu and Suharto regimes, respectively). The
conflict with the former center, however, has continued to be significant in the
building of a postwar identity and has resulted in renewed conflict.
In addition to these tasks, there is the need to reconstruct the economy
and, as it were, shape market conditions. This could be referred to as market-
building of the internal economy and establishing its relationship to external
economic activities. This is necessary for the postwar government: the econ-
omy has to move on, generating the revenue the state needs and giving jobs to
the unemployed (not the least the ex-combatants), thus reducing the pressure
on the state to provide such services. However, experience is that international
support is short-lived, international aid is temporary, and international trade is
unpredictable. There is a need to import goods and services but also to develop
export products, which require competitiveness and capital. Investment may
be forthcoming in sectors that are attractive to the international market (i.e.,
oil, mining) but not necessarily conducive for job creation or policies against
corruption.
All of these peacebuilding ambitions have their own names and can be
seen as independent tasks, but they also relate to one another. Arriving at the
appropriate mix and spacing such activities in a reinforcing way is a major
political task. This is where different peacebuilding strategies become impor-
tant. In total, this is what will be judged when evaluating the postwar policies.
Together, however, these aspects would tentatively define a broad concept of
peacebuilding: to provide the postconflict conditions that make the inhabitants
of a society secure in life and dignity now and for the foreseeable future.13 Only
with this sense of basic security are people interested in investing money, time,
and energy in doing all these other tasks. If a society or a relationship is likely
to collapse again, within some few years, what is the point in making long-term
commitments? This also means that the different elements of peacebuilding
have to be clearly identified and related to one another. A task of a strategy of
peacebuilding is to arrive at an interaction among these factors, creating the
sustainable conditions that yield the basic security needed.
This first definition works for all the types of conflicts that have entered
into a postwar phase. For internal conflicts this should be fairly obvious, as gov-
ernance is likely to be what was disputed and possibly regulated by the victor or
in a mutual peace agreement. In state-formation conflicts that have resulted in
two separate states, there is a need for internal peacebuilding, particularly in the
novel entity: bureaucracies have to be built (state-building), procedures have to
be developed for popular influence (if democracy-building is the priority), bor-
ders have to be surveyed and controlled (part of security-building), taxes have to
be collected, an economy has to be stimulated (efforts of market-building). The
pressure for nation-building is likely to be particularly strong: the new national
identity has to be cemented to justify all the sacrifices that the conflict involved.
Here, there is a strong difference between those situations where states were
created fairly peacefully (such as Slovakia and the Czech Republic breaking up
their common union in 1993, or the dissolution of the Soviet Union) and the
violent situations in former Yugoslavia or between Ethiopia and Eritrea. It can
be postulated that the emphasis on national identity is likely to be higher the
more violence there has been in the process of the break-up.
The way state formation conflicts end will affect international relations
in the postconflict situation. The dissolution of the British Empire in India
resulted in a peacefully agreed separation, but its implementation led to the
deaths of millions of people and left the subcontinent divided ever since. For
each population security has been sought within its own state, rather than with
the former adversary. Interstate security dilemmas rise under these conditions.
For instance, the Eritrean decision to make its own currency (to get its own
economy going, that is, a market-building effort) is said to have soured the
relations to Ethiopia (which was not informed beforehand and whose economy
depended on Eritrean ports for trade and transactions, immediately affecting

its own market-building plans). When a minor border dispute occurred in the
following year, it immediately escalated into a war (the war thus was fought
over a piece of territory deemed at least symbolically important to both, a fail-
ure in mutual security-building). There was no confidence and, in effect, no
peacebuilding between the two countries. Thus, even though security was built
internally, the international dimension had been neglected. This suggests that
what takes place inside one of the formerly united units will affect that other.
Independence is not absolute, and a border, however solid, is not enough as a
guarantee against the other.
State-formation conflicts after a war that has resulted in the creation of two
internationally recognized states constitute a subcategory of interstate wars.
The classical interstate wars are fought between neighbors that have had both
cooperative and conflictual relations through history. Peacebuilding in these
cases involves the creation of regional security arrangements, as covered in
the term security community.14 In such a community, there is some degree of
integration, but the key issue is that the parties actually do not expect conflicts
to be solved by violent means. An attitudinal change has taken place cementing
the relations. This may sometimes appear utopian, but in fact such transitions
have taken place throughout history, even among major powers. Britain and
France were rivals during the 1800s, whereas during the 1900s they were on
the same side in all major wars.
The case of Franco-German relations after 1945 is seminal, however, and
illustrates all the dimensions of peacebuilding we have identified. It involved
a state reconstruction effort (of defeated Germany, developing a decentralized
federal structure); democracy-building (democratizing German society, civilian
control over the armed forces, even including a right for soldiers to refuse certain
orders); national redefinition (war crimes pursued and Germany defining itself
as a democratic, peaceful and European country); and market integration (the
Marshall Plan, the German currency reform). It was a successful transformation
of the inner operations of a society. Important is that this was combined with
integration into the rest of Europe (what today is the European Union, EU). It is a
unique example of peacebuilding that has left a lasting imprint on world history.
In many other interstate conflicts similar strategies have been less suc-
cessful or even avoided. Many divides have instead been strengthened, rather
than reduced, as time passes and interaction occurs. The two Koreas remain
divided, having fought a war in the early 1950s and that war continued to be
an important marker for the separated identities of the two sides. The most
recent interstate war, the United States versus Iraq, has not included a success-
ful peacebuilding strategy.
To analyze peacebuilding there is, consequently, a need to keep in mind
the difference in the type of conflict (internal, state formation, interstate con-
flicts) as well as the focus of ambitions (e.g. the building of state structures,
democracy, security, identities, legitimacy, markets, all at the same time, in a
sequence, or only concentrating on some of the tasks). The different elements
of peacebuilding mean that we have to be concerned about the strategy for
peacebuilding. What are the elements that are normally given priority in post-
war society? With this in mind and with a tentative, overarching general defi-
nition where peacebuilding is defined as the provision of present and future
conditions of security in life and dignity, the achievements in research with
implications for strategic considerations can now be reviewed.
Researching Peacebuilding
Peacebuilding in this way is clearly a major undertaking. I have isolated four key
dimension and three different types of postconflict situation. This makes twelve
different challenging situations to peacebuilding efforts. Recent research has
seldom made such detailed specifications but tends to treat internal and state
formation conflicts as one and the same and not say much at all on interstate
conflict. Furthermore, the four dimensions are seldom separated in research
and, thus, not completely covered. There have been more case studies of, for
instance, security-building strategies (particularly on ex-combatants), but few
very systematic projects (dealing with a large number of cases). The field, in
other words, finds itself in an early stage. Furthermore, there is a strong focus
on individual cases, rather than on regional aspects, and fairly little on work-
able strategies undertaken by international, national, or local actors. Still, there
are some important debates and insights, which have to be presented. The fol-
lowing section deals with studies that include at least a comparative approach.
A first observation is that peacebuilding is a novel activity, and thus it is
difficult to determine the appropriate time frames. Some studies measure the
achievements after two or five years.15 At best, this is a first period that shows
that a society has overcome the immediate postwar conditions. But it is not
enough to say that a country or a relationship is beyond the risk of relapse after
such a short period. Even under the best of circumstances, peacebuilding is
likely to be a concerted process for ten or fifteen years. Frequently used exam-
ples in literature and public discussions include Germany and Japan, which
began to return to pre–World War II economic levels fifteen years after their
defeat.16 Lebanon was beginning to appear “normal” in 2005, fifteen years after
the end of the war: the center of Beirut was reconstructed, the Syrian forces
were moved out, and democracy was taking root. However, many of these
efforts were undone by the renewed destruction in 2006, again increasing
the tensions among the different groups in the society. Uganda’s major war
ceased in 1986 and by the late 1990s the country was on an economic upturn,
although still challenged by rebels in the north of the country.
The number of years that have passed without a return to war is only a
crude indicator of whether a country has successfully managed the transition
from war to peace. Return to war, of course, is a sign that something failed
in peacebuilding, particularly if it is a war with the same actors that fought
the previous war. However, conflicts in new constellations may in fact say
that peacebuilding worked in one relationship, but that no efforts were taken in
another relationship. The definition provided here suggests that it should be for the
society as a whole, rather than an arrangement with a particular former enemy.

Any war would be a sign of failure.
Thus, I ask what recent research provides in terms of explaining the con-
tinuation of comprehensive peace after a devastating war. There seems to be
a clustering of explanations emerging from four separate, general questions,
cutting across the dimensions and types I have introduced. First, studies point
to the ending of the (previous or last) war: which types of ending? Second, there
can also be factors relating to how the last war started: what were the causes
and have they been removed or handled? Third, is there the postwar capacity
for peacebuilding? Fourth, what is the neighborhood in which a society finds
itself—is it supportive or not?
First, there is the point of beginning postwar peacebuilding: how did the
last/latest war end? There is a strong correlation between earlier war experi-
ences and relapse into renewed war. A crucial factor is the type of ending. That
may be highly significant for what is to follow in a particular relationship or
society as a whole. There are two typical ways of ending a war and thus start-
ing a new era of peacebuilding. One is that the warring parties sign a peace
agreement; another is that one of them defeats the other and imposes its own
“peace,” that is, victory.
It is easy to be sarcastic about peace processes and resulting peace agree-
ments: peace negotiations appear cumbersome; they are full of setbacks, politi-
cal maneuvers, and concerns with seemingly insignificant details. This is not
novel. All negotiations have this character; ending a civil war by negotiations is
a particularly difficult task. What matters is whether the negotiators deal with
the appropriate issues, whether they find an agreement that has sustainable
qualities, and whether the agreement includes all parties. These are issues and
actors that have to be dealt with.
As noted, there have been 121 wars since 1989, but there are also 144 peace
agreements. In forty-six cases, a peace agreement helped end the conflict.17 In
general terms, one-third of all conflicts end through a negotiated settlement
or through a cease-fire, another third ends in victory, and a third simply goes
on. This record of negotiated endings is historically novel, particularly for civil
wars. The histories of Europe and North America provide few historical lessons
in civil war peacemaking. Most civil wars in these areas have ended through
victories rather than through peace agreements. Typical examples are the U.S.
Civil War and the various revolutions in France, England, and Russia that are
often associated with civil wars. In history, peace has exclusively been some-
thing negotiated between states, not within states. This means that, for instance,
Europe also finds itself in an era of working out how to deal with the problem of
internal peace (peace within the state). That can be seen, from Belfast (North-
ern Ireland) to the Balkans, from the Basque country to Baku (Azerbaijan). The
Western world cannot claim that it has an advantage in this area; it is learning
at the same time as all others.
It is also important to ask who makes the agreements. Normally and
immediately researchers and practitioners tend to think of the warring parties.
Indeed, they are important, but that might not be enough. A recent study by
Desirée Nilsson suggests that the inclusion of nonwarring parties in agree-

ments increases their durability.18 This is the first work along this line, but
it is suggestive. The inclusion of more stakeholders may make negotiations
more complex, but the result may be more lasting. An interpretation is that
this means that more actors have an interest in the agreement. In particular,
nonarmed actors—the civil society—gain access and have a role, and thus an
interest in the implementation of agreements. It goes without saying that this
also means giving a more prominent role to women in the peace process as
such. The results are likely to improve the quality of postwar society.
Wars may also end in victories. Victories can have a lasting quality. How-
ever, a major study of civil wars and peacebuilding since 1944 concludes that
peacebuilding after a peace agreement (rather than after a victory) has a greater
chance of keeping the peace.19 The peace agreements clearly are important for
the outcomes. There have been very few studies of different types of victories,
however. The examples that are used often stem from interstate conflict, rather
than the other categories. In the present discussion on the interstate war in Iraq,
the experiences of Germany and Japan are often referenced. A most significant
point is constantly overlooked. The leadership of Germany and Japan formally
and symbolically capitulated, that is, they admitted defeat and instructed their
troops to surrender. They became prisoners of war and were treated according
to international law of the time, that is, with respect. In contrast, the Iraq war
of 2003 did not include such an act of capitulation by the losing side, although
there were many acts of victory by the winner. There is an important legal and
psychological difference, which probably has a significant effect for peacebuild-
ing after victory.20
Second, the way the previous war started provides lessons for the appropriate
strategies of peacebuilding to prevent a recurrence of war. There is an increas-
ing body of literature on the general causes of civil war. Largely, research has
gone into factors associated with greed, need, and creed: actors fighting for
their own gain, for the basic needs of a large segment of the population, or for
the creation of a new society.21
There has been considerable attention to economic questions, thus poten-
tially relating to postconflict market-building ambitions. Paul Collier and
associates argue that “lootable” raw materials, such as diamonds, are likely to
increase the likelihood of war because they serve to finance wars as well as
enrich the actors themselves.22 Interestingly, this observation has also been
made by policy makers and led to action. Take, for instance, the UN use of
sanctions on the sale of particular resources, as part of a new form of measure.
Targeted sanctions stem from an analysis of the significance of such resources
for power and warfare.23 Diamonds were among the first resources pointed to:
easy to transport, high unit value, and little weight. Recent studies by Macartan
Humphreys and work by Joseph Bamidele compare different types of resource
dependencies to point out which ones are more prone to conflict or more opti-
mal for lasting peace.24 Bamidele argues that for Africa resources with a large
labor absorption capacity are more conducive for peace. That means that agri-
cultural production creates more employment.
The peacebuilding strategy that follows from this analysis of economic

causes is not obvious. To diversify a country’s economy certainly is a logical con-
clusion, but to do this immediately after a war is a tremendous task. To return
to the illustrative cases of Germany and Japan, both went back to previous
industrial production as part of their postwar recovery (excluding armaments,
which were banned). This seems also to be the pattern in internal conflicts. For
instance, Lebanon focused after 1990 again on becoming a tourist attraction,
with the use of international capital (particularly from other Arab countries).
The success in this approach became visible during the 2006 war: there were
thousands of international tourists in the country, dramatically evacuated dur-
ing the first weeks of the renewed conflict. Another case is Uganda, which
invited the old Asian entrepreneurs back to the country after the war endings
in the mid-1980s. For new states emerging as a result of a state formation con-
flicts, this is likely to be acute. How can an independent economy be created?
As we have seen, Eritrea came into a renewed war with Ethiopia, whereas East
Timor (now Timor-Leste) hoped for incomes from a new source: oil discover-
ies. Changing the economy is likely to be a difficult proposition running coun-
ter to the needs of immediate postwar reconstruction. What one already knows
will be the first priority in reconstruction, followed by easily mobilized skills
that can be brought back to the country. Only in some instances will there be a
chance of immediately developing something entirely different.
This brings in the different concern of finding ways in which resources
can be shared within the state. It is also more possible to do in the postconflict
environment. There are many ways of doing this. This is the significance of a
functioning taxation system, tariffs on produce crossing the borders, as well as
the creation of funds for long-term investment. A situation where few control
all the wealth and the rest are marginalized is clearly an unlikely scenario for
peacebuilding. The poorer the conditions, the more contention there is likely
to be for scarce revenue, threatening to result in authoritarian regimes or state
failure.
Collier and colleagues and other studies point to the significance of unem-
ployment, which Marx once described as a “reserve army.” In Marxist thinking,
it was a way for capitalism to depress wages. Keynesian thinking differs on this
point.25 What we see today is a much more literal meaning. If war is the only
“employment” around and somebody is paying, then why not take on this as
any other occupation? It is an option that is referred to in stories of unemployed
in the Middle East and in Afghanistan, as well as among young people in the
favelas of Rio de Janeiro or in the run-down areas of Los Angeles. Joining the
drug lords may pay better than finishing school. The “reserve army” becomes an
“active army.” Thus, to think about employment creation as part of peacebuilding
makes a lot of sense. After war, there are needs that have to be met, but are there
enough resources? Many war endings include the provision of international sup-
port, particularly in cases of negotiated settlement. A focus for such efforts might
be the meeting of basic needs that also involve hiring a lot of labor.
Increasingly, issues of governance and leadership are getting attention
as causes of conflict and thus become a key consideration for peacebuilding
in internal postconflict situations. The phrase “state failure” has been used
to describe this.26 In the appendix to this chapter, an overview is provided of
different types of state failure to assist in gaining the full picture. Clearly the
state as such needs to be singled out, and that is also done in most concepts
of peacebuilding. The focus may not necessarily and exclusively be on institu-
tional capacity, however. There are other initiatives and institutions that may
need encouragement, on a national level. Courts, agencies, and bureaucra-
cies all have a role to play. A “good” state would be one that can constitute a
national capacity to deal with conflict and be an exponent of the “conflict carry-
ing capacity” of society.27 The decline of a broad set of state and national insti-
tutions in this fundamental way suggests that such institutions not merely
provide law and order but also bestow an element of redress, even “justice.”
If that ability is not there, the result could become chaotic. Thus, in the fear
of creating too strong a state, some prefer no state at all; in the fear of having
no state, others prefer an authoritarian order. A task is to find intelligent con-
structions in between these extremes. However, here is an important lacuna.
There are, for instance, no global measures on efficacy and integrity of state
institutions that can be used to compare states or follow developments over
time.28
This points to a future challenge for peacebuilding: what type of state is
sufficiently strong to distribute the costs and benefits of society in a legitimate
way, but not so strong that it can overrun the economy or suppress groups in
society? This is the direction in which the debate on peacebuilding may be mov-
ing, for instance, from the works of Roland Paris.29 Paris and others, be they
practitioners or academics, criticize the early imposition of democratic insti-
tutions such as national elections. They express a preference for postponing
this political measure in favor of institution-building (or, what here has been
termed state-building, in contrast to democracy-building). This is an important
critique of prevalent strategies for peacebuilding. In reality, it is often more a
discussion of timing. When are the conditions ripe for democracy? Too early
after a war may mean that the “warlords” have a heroic status and are the only
ones with access to resources, making it likely that they can get democratic
recognition. Too late in the process, however, may give room for the same war-
lords to criticize the transitory arrangements and undermine democracy-build-
ing. Clearly, early after a war, civil society and other actors are likely to be weak
and economic development varied. Only later are civil society actors likely to
gain strength and contribute to a broader representation in the elections. Larry
Diamond, analyzing the situation in Iraq in 2004, pointed to the possibility of
first calling local elections, as a way around the problem of timing the introduc-
tion of democracy.30
A discussion in democracy-building cannot be pursued only in theory. In
reality, some authority has to rule, even during a transition. Who is it likely to
be, and what will be its role in the following democratization? The international
support for long-term commitment cannot be taken for granted, although
huge resources have gone into such situations as those found in Timor-Leste
(primarily 1999–2002), Afghanistan (since 2001), Kosovo (since 1999), and
Bosnia-Herzegovina (since 1995). International authority took over some of

the functions that would normally belong to the state, but state-building was
part of the international mandate. The record of success can be debated: there
has been a return to war in only one case (Afghanistan) but considerable spo-
radic conflict in two others (Timor-Leste, Kosovo) and tensions in all. Paradoxi-
cally, the long international presence is an indication of a failure in providing
the conditions that confidently can be regarded as peacebuilding where the
national and local levels regain control.
This brings us straight to the third question: who is doing peacebuild-
ing? Clearly, this is something that has been taken over by the international
community. Some reduction in armed conflict has been observed. But as a
long-term strategy, this is not sustainable. There is also increasing evidence
to underline the significance of peacebuilding based on local capacity. When
studying the early development of conflicts, one can observe that the internal
mediators and the local third parties, what is sometimes called “moderates,”
or the groups that are in between the warring factions, are also those targeted
by belligerents and militants. This means that the “center,” the political space
where much of the population is often located (politically speaking), may be
without spokespersons. The extreme sides may manage to polarize the situ-
ation. When this results in civil wars, international efforts at peacebuilding
enter as a replacement for local capacity. This may be necessary, but it is also
a major problem. There is a danger that a heavy international presence may
further reduce local conflict resolution capacity, contribute to the erosion of
traditional authority, and with that, undermine bodies that might be able to
competently deal with conflicts on a local level.31 There are now studies emerg-
ing of recent experiences of international peacebuilding efforts. Roland Kos-
tic’s work on Bosnia-Herzegovina is one example; John Heathershaw’s work
on Tajikistan is another.32 Both seem to bring out the same message, albeit
with different emphases and meaning. The international efforts may lead to
a stifling of local initiative or delay or prevent the emergence of local capac-
ity to deal with the situation. Louise Olsson has analyzed UN engagement in
Namibia from the perspective of the role of women in the war-ending and
early peacebuilding processes.33
An important conclusion is that international peacebuilding strategies
have to primarily enhance local capacity and interact with such actors; thus,
peacebuilding will have to be differently shaped in different situations. There
is a danger of unproductive tension between local and international capacity.34
There are different mandates driving these two efforts. Often international
peacebuilding will have more access to resources, comparatively speaking, but
will also be less committed to a particular situation. The experts and managers
will move on within a short period of time, but the locals will remain in the
situation. Finding ways these two levels can connect and support each other is
highly significant.
In interstate peacebuilding, however, international efforts are much more
rare. We have already alluded to the postconflict experiences in Ethiopia–Eri-
trea and India–Pakistan relations. These actors have been strong enough to
block international involvement, except for limited tasks of peacekeeping or

observation teams. The strategies of peacebuilding need different forms. The
example of the Franco-German relations suggests that a regional approach may
be more practical.
This leads us to a fourth issue that affects all three types of conflict and
concerns: the neighborhood in which peacebuilding takes place. Neighboring
countries may contribute to a war directly (by supplying their own troops,
allowing bases for warring parties, expressing political support, etc.) or indi-
rectly (e.g., by not being capable to control their own borders). Clearly, what
happens in one country is to some extent dependent on what happens with
its neighbor(s).35 There are interconnections—the closer to the scene, the
closer the interconnections. There are concepts such as “regional conflict
complexes” and “regional security communities” expressing exactly this.36
Regional spill-over effects can be seen in some of the conflictual African
regions.
There is a debate, however, over whether the neighborhood itself is the
problem or whether internal conflicts are triggered from internal causes.
Michael E. Brown has argued that the proximate causes of internal conflicts
are mostly internal (thirty-two out of thirty-six cases, in his overview, 1996:
582). The typical cases of externally driven conflicts were the conflicts in Geor-
gia, Moldova, Afghanistan, and Sierra Leone. However, he as well as others
would agree that there are a number of regional dimensions of internal con-
flicts, for instance, regional instability, arms trade, refugee flows, and disrup-
tion of trade and transportation. Harbom and Wallensteen (2005) report that
there is much international engagement in a large majority of all armed inter-
nal conflict over a period of time. Clearly there are close connections, and
they have become even more obvious since Brown presented his findings.
Entire regions have been dramatically affected by war and disputes, weaken-
ing not only one state but several: the Mano River region is one (Liberia, Sierra
Leone, Guinea, Côte d’Ivoire). The African Great Lakes region is another
(Congo, Rwanda, Burundi, Uganda); the Horn of Africa a third; the connec-
tions between Darfur (Sudan), Chad, and the Central African Republic have
also received attention and appear to lead to a spread of armed conflict. These
are areas where links are close, the borders fragile, and the states weak—all
contributing to new opportunities for those who see potential gains in armed
options. Thus, there are not only state failures, as mentioned before, but also
regional failures.
This affects peacebuilding in a number of ways. It may make it difficult
to build peace in one country if the neighboring state is war-torn and collaps-
ing. There are, however, also elements of a reversal. Peace in one country
may assist peace efforts in another: Liberia and Sierra Leone may interact
supportively in peacebuilding in the middle of the first decade of the 2000s,
compared to the dynamics five or ten years earlier. The same may apply to
developments in Burundi, the Democratic Republic of Congo, and southern
Sudan. Certainly the picture is not complete, but there has been a discernible
trend of slowly but systematically unfolding peacebuilding activities in many
African states over the past half-decade. It is also clear that regional initia-
tives play a role in this reversal. Neighbors shift from exploitative to support-
ive stances, and that may contribute to peacebuilding. Regional settings for
peacebuilding have to be taken into consideration. Remarkably little research
has gone into this.
The account given for Africa is in stark contrast to the Middle East, where
fighting and conflict strategies have been dominating the agenda of the main
actors, particularly since the collapse of the Oslo Process by late 2000 and
after the events of September 11, 2001. In other parts of the world, different
patterns dominate: the critique of peacebuilding seen in the Balkans does not
emerge from the need to undo the security that has been built, but aims at
finding ways to turn peacebuilding into a more effective and locally informed
approach. Similarly, the relative peace of East Asia suggests again different
ways of managing conflict. In the disputes around North Korea, for instance,
the neighboring countries have been heavily involved in diplomacy and eco-
nomic pressure, but have not resorted to militarily undermining the regime or
initiating armed action.
The regional approach to peacebuilding has received little attention. Peace
agreements contain fewer such aspects and after a victory, neighbors mostly
seem to adapt to the new conditions. Regional peacebuilding in interstate con-
flict has been almost completely lacking, and—possibly as a consequence—so
is research. This suggests an important agenda, where not only knowledge of
security but also broader expertise is brought to bear. It may also have an effect
on negotiations for ending wars or implementing peace.
Conclusion
The field of peacebuilding studies is in its early phases. It has largely concen-
trated on internal conflicts and thus developed conclusions relevant for peace-
building after such wars. For instance, there is a common observation that
countries with dependence on one commodity for export are at risk of renewed
war and that unemployment provides an additional risk for conflict. Peace-
building policies clearly need to address issues of sharing resources, finding
investment, and creating jobs. This relates largely to the needs of one particular
aspect: the market-building dimension of peacebuilding. The tasks are likely to
be the same, whether we discuss the formation of a new government after a
war or a new state as a separate entity.
However, an emerging conclusion is also emphasizing weak local capabil-
ity to deal with conflict through a functioning state or another locally legitimate
framework. This is a challenge to peacebuilding that points to the representa-
tiveness of the state and the space it allows for local capacity (an aspect of state-
building). The importance of democracy-building is discussed as to appropriate
timing and sequencing, although it is seldom questioned as a goal.
Security-building is an obviously important matter. The international
efforts of peacekeeping have this as a central task, and other matters are seen
as auxiliary. However, strategies for long-term security-building require consid-

erable study for all three types of conflict. In the interstate postwar situation,
there is a tradition of analysis in terms of a security dilemma. This concept is
also useful for describing internal conditions, something that has not been
done much so far.
Nation-building in terms of finding common identities in postconflict
situations is a challenge that seems to have paralyzed researchers as well as
practitioners. There are few ideas on systemic approaches, but there is much
awareness of the significance of this factor. It seems to provide a particular
challenge to peacebuilding research.
Finally, this chapter has pointed to the lack of regional studies, particularly
how the regional dimension may systematically support or undermine peace-
building efforts of individual countries or actors. Such interaction seems par-
ticularly pertinent for future studies.
Peacebuilding is a strategic topic in itself. It is located in the crossroads of
academic research and practical application. The urgency of such research is
clear as practice evolves, whether or not there is research. Research needs to
incorporate such experiences and also develop solid insights that can contrib-
ute to improving present strategies.
Appendix: A Typology of State Failure
Ability of Internationally Recognized Government to Provide Services

to the Population
Services Maintained Services Reduced or Ceasing
Services within 1. Minimized state 7. Partial nonperformance state

the internationally (thinning out of state (e.g. Iraq and armaments,
recognized territory operations, e.g. due to or govt not in control of finances)
its international finances)
are /to be/ provided 2. Discriminatory state 8. Full Non-Performance State
by recognized Govt (services not equal for all (Somalia, Afghanistan)
groups in the society)
in between situation 3. Transitory state 9. Mandate state (functions
(devolution, phase of taken over—temporarily–
break-up) by international authority)
4. De facto divided state 10. Contested state
(e.g. Somalia, Somaliland) (no actors provide
services, block each other)
are challenged by 5. “Liberated zones”
other actors (e.g. territories nominally
under central control, in
practice under rebels setting
up “model state”)
6. Organized crime state
(Mafia administers
official services)
Note: The point of departure is an internationally recognized state, with its own government and its own territory.
The functions of the state may be impaired prior to or as part of conflict.
NOTES
This chapter is a substantial elaboration of my inaugural speech as the Richard

G. Starmann Sr. Research Professor of Peace Studies, Joan B. Kroc Institute for
International Peace Studies, November 5, 2006. This chapter has benefited from
many commentators, notably Roland Kostic, for which I am grateful, while I remain
solely responsible for the analysis presented.
1. Galtung, Johan, 1976. “Three Approaches to Peace: Peacekeeping,
Peacemaking and Peacebuilding,” in Galtung, Johan, Peace, War and Defence.
Essays in Peace Research vol. 2, Copenhagen: Christian Ejlers, pp. 282–304.
2. Deutsch, Karl W., et al., 1957. Political Community and the North Atlantic Area,
Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.
3. Harbom, Lotta, Stina Högbladh, and Peter Wallensteen, 2006. “Armed
Conflict and Peace Agreements,” Journal of Peace Research 43(5): 617–631.
4. Refugee flows are constantly monitored by UNHCR, Human Rights Watch,
and Refugees International. The link to armed conflicts is obvious even from a visual
inspection of the Web sites of these organizations.
5. Human Security Report 2005. War and Peace in the 21st Century, Human
Security Centre, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, BC, Canada,
www.humansecurityreport.info.
6. The proposal is found in United Nations, 2004, A More Secure World: Our Shared
Responsibility, Report of the Secretary General’s High-Level Panel on Threats, Challenges
and Change. The new commission was established in June 2006 by the UN General
Assembly and selected Burundi and Sierra Leone as the first countries to work with.
7. The recent work of Manuel Fröhlich et al. (2006) studying the contributions of
the UN Special Representatives confirms the observations from HSR. An obvious indi-
cator would be global military expenditures, but they show a sharp rise since 2000, at
a time when the conflict patterns are neither declining nor rising. See SIPRI Yearbook
2006, New York: Oxford University Press, chapter 8.
8. Boutros-Ghali, Boutros, 1992. An Agenda for Peace, New York: United Nations.
9. This trichotomy of conflict is presented in Wallensteen, Peter, 2007. Under-
standing Conflict Resolution, 2nd ed., London: Sage, chapter 4.
10. The distinction of government and territory as the chief incompatibilities in
armed conflicts is central to the Uppsala Conflict Data Program, see www.ucdp.uu.se.
11. The dilemmas in postwar democracy-building are penetrated in Jarstad, Anna, and
Sisk, Tim, eds., 2008. From War to Democracy, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
12. Brounéus, Karen, 2003. Reconciliation—Theory and Practice for Development
Cooperation. A Report for the Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency.
Stockholm: Sida.
13. There is a proliferation of definitions for this concept from its contemporary
launching by former UN Secretary General Boutros Boutros-Ghali in his report An
Agenda for Peace. As noted, the concept was used by Johan Galtung already in 1976.
For an overview, see Gawerc, Michelle I., 2006. “Peace-Building: Theoretical and
Concrete Perspectives,” Peace & Change 31(4): 435–478, and Fetherston, A. B., 2000.
“Peacekeeping, Conflict Resolution and Peacebuilding: A Reconsideration of Theoreti-
cal Frameworks,” International Peacekeeping 7(1): 190–218.
14. Deutsch, et al., 1957.
15. An example of what can be achieved with short time periods is Doyle, Michael
W., and Sambanis, Nicholas, 2000. “International Peacebuilding: A Theoretical and
Quantitative Analysis,” American Political Science Review 94(4): 779–801.
16. Valuable insights are provided by Dobbins, James F., 2003–2004. “America’s
Role in Nation-Building: From Germany to Iraq,” Survival 45(4): 87–110. A classic
treatment is Organski, A.F. K., and Kugler, Jacek, 1980. The War Ledger, Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, which used the expression “the Phoenix factor” for these
two cases.
17. Harbom et al., 2006, and www.pcr.uu.se/database.
18. Nilsson, Desirée, 2006. In the Shadow of Settlement. Multiple Rebel Groups and
Precarious Peace, Uppsala University: Department of Peace and Conflict Research.
19. Doyle and Sambanis, 2000, p. 789.
20. Woodward asserts that President Bush in 2003 wanted to end the war on Iraq
on an aircraft carrier to remind the public of Japan’s capitulation in 1945 (Woodward,
Bob, 2006. State of Denial. Bush at War, Part III, New York: Simon & Schuster, p. 186). A
difference that escapes Woodward is that in 1945, Japanese officers signed the act of sur-
render on instructions from the emperor, whereas in 2003 there were no Iraqis onboard
the ship. As part of this, the Japanese authorities had to save and protect civil and mili-
tary property. In the same vein, the capture of Saddam Hussein in December 2003 was
only seen as a way of militarily defeating the insurgency (ibid., p. 275), and the issue of
capitulation does not seem to have been on the mind of the American leadership.
21. Zartman, I. William, 2000. “Mediating Conflicts of Need, Greed and Creed,”
Orbis 44(2): 255–266.
22. The argument is more nuanced than what is presented here. Among numer-
ous studies see, for instance, Collier, Paul, et al., 2003. Breaking the Conflict Trap. Civil
War and Development Policy, New York: World Bank and Oxford University Press.
23. For an overview and evaluation of this development see, for instance, Wallen-
steen, Peter, and Staibano, Carina, eds., 2005. International Sanctions: Between Words
and Wars in the Global System, London and New York: Frank Cass.
24. Humphreys, Macartan, 2005. “Natural Resources, Conflict and Conflict Reso-
lution,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 49(4): 508–537. Bamidele, Joseph, 2006. Natural
Resource Dependence and the Political Economy of Civil Conflict in Sub-Saharan Africa.
PhD dissertation, University of London.
25. Peter Skott finds that theoretically one explanation does not exclude the other;
see “Effective Demand, Class Struggle and Cyclical Growth,” International Economic
Review 30(1989:1): 231–247. Also, women and the elderly have been analyzed from the
perspective of being “reserve armies” for a capitalist economy.
26. Chesterman, Simon, Ignatieff, Michael, and Thakur, Ramesh, eds., 2005.
Making States Work: State Failure and the Crisis of Governance, Tokyo, New York, Paris:
UN University Press.
27. This concept has been elaborated particularly by Jenkins, J. Craig, and Bond,
Doug, 2001. “Conflict Carrying Capacity, Political Crisis and Reconstruction,” Journal
of Conflict Resolution 45(1): 3–31.
28. This has been apparent, for instance, when one wants to see how states
implement UN-decided sanctions initiatives. Daniel Strandow, Uppsala, has made this
observation as part of a sanctions project.
29. Paris, Roland, 2002. “International Peacebuilding and ‘Mission Civilisa-
trice,’” Review of International Studies, 28: 637–656; and Paris, Roland, 2004. At War’s
End. Building Peace after Civil Conflict, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
30. Diamond, Larry, 2005. “Building Democracy after Conflict. Lessons from
Iraq,” Journal of Democracy 16(1): 9–23.
31. Chesterman, Simon, 2004. You, the People: The United Nations, Transitional
Administration, and State-Building, Oxford: Oxford University Press.
32. Kostic, Roland, 2008. “Nation-building as an Instrument of Peace? Exploring

Local Attitudes towards International Nation-Building and Reconciliation in Bosnia
and Herzegovina,” Civil Wars 10(4): 384–412; Heathershaw, John, 2007. “Peacebuild-
ing as Practice: Discourses from Post-Conflict Tajikistan,” International Peacekeeping
14(2): 219–236.
33. Olsson, Louise, 2001. “Gender Mainstreaming in Practice: The United
Nations Transitional Assistance Group in Namibia,” International Peacekeeping 8(2):
97–110. Olsson’s latest work deals with East Timor.
34. On this score, recent case studies point in the same direction as the statistical
work by Doyle and Sambanis, 2000.
35. Harbom, Lotta, and Wallensteen, Peter, 2005. “Armed Conflict and Its Interna-
tional Dimensions, 1946–2004,” Journal of Peace Research 42(5): 623–635 report on this.
36. See for instance, Deutsch et al., 1957; Buzan, Barry, 1991. People, States and
Fear, Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner; and Wallensteen, 2007.
REFERENCES
Bamidele, Joseph. 2006. Natural Resource Dependence and the Political Economy of Civil
Conflict in Sub-Saharan Africa. PhD Dissertation, submitted to the University of
London, United Kingdom.
Boutros-Ghali, Boutros. 1992. An Agenda for Peace. New York: United Nations.
Brown, Michael E. (ed.). 1996. The International Dimensions of Internal Conflict.
Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press.
Brounéus, Karen. 2003. Reconciliation—Theory and Practice for Development
Cooperation. A Report for the Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency.
Stockholm: Sida.
Buzan, Barry. 1991. People, States and Fear. Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner.
Chesterman, Simon. 2004. You, the People: The United Nations, Transitional
Administration, and State-Building. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Chesterman, Simon, Michael Ignatieff, and Ramesh Thakur (eds.). 2005. Making
States Work: State Failure and the Crisis of Governance. Tokyo, New York, Paris: UN
University Press.
Collier, Paul, et al., 2003. Breaking the Conflict Trap. Civil War and Development Policy.
New York: World Bank and Oxford University Press.
Deutsch, Karl W., et al., 1957. Political Community and the North Atlantic Area.
Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.
Diamond, Larry. 2005. “Building Democracy After Conflict. Lessons from Iraq.”
Journal of Democracy 16(1): 9–23.
Dobbins, James F. 2003–2004. “America’s Role in Nation-Building: From Germany to
Iraq,” Survival 45(4): 87–110.
Doyle, Michael W., and Sambanis, Nicholas. 2000. “International Peacebuilding: A
Theoretical and Quantitative Analysis,” American Political Science Review 94(4):
779–801.
Fetherston, A. B. 2000. “Peacekeeping, Conflict Resolution and Peacebuilding: A
Reconsideration of Theoretical Frameworks.” International Peacekeeping 7(4):
190–218.
Fröhlich, Manuel, Bütof, Maria, and Lemanski, Jan. 2006. “Mapping UN Presence.
A Follow-up on the Human Security Report,” Die Friedens-Warte. Journal of
International Peace and Organization 81(2): 13–23.
Galtung, Johan. 1976. “Three Approaches to Peace: Peacekeeping, Peacemaking

and Peacebuilding,” in Peace, War and Defence. Essays in Peace Research Vol. 2.
Copenhagen: Christian Ejlers, pp 282–304.
Gawerc, Michelle I. 2006. “Peace-Building: Theoretical and Concrete Perspectives,”
Peace & Change 31(4): 435–478.
Harbom, Lotta, and Wallensteen, Peter. 2005. “Armed Conflict and Its International
Dimensions, 1946–2004,” Journal of Peace Research 42(5): 623–635.
Harbom, Lotta, Högbladh, Stina and Wallensteen, Peter. 2006. “Armed Conflict and
Peace Agreements,” Journal of Peace Research 43(5): 617–631.
Heathershaw, John. 2007. “Peacebuilding as Practice: Discourses from Post-Conflict
Tajikistan,” International Peacekeeping 14(2): 219–236.
Human Security Report 2005. War and Peace in the 21st Century. Human Security
Centre, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, BC, Canada.
Humphreys, Macartan. 2005. “Natural Resources, Conflict and Conflict Resolution,”
Journal of Conflict Resolution 49(4): 508–537.
Jarstad, Anna, and Sisk, Tim (eds.). 2008. From War to Democracy. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Jenkins, J. Craig, and Bond, Doug. 2001. “Conflict Carrying Capacity, Political Crisis
and Reconstruction,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 45(1): 3–31.
Kostic, Roland. 2008. “Nation-Building as an Instrument of Peace? Exploring Local
Attitudes towards International Nation-Building and Reconciliation in Bosnia and
Herzegovina,” Civil Wars 10(4): 384–412.
Nilsson, Desirée. 2006. In the Shadow of Settlement. Multiple Rebel Groups and Precarious
Peace. Uppsala: Uppsala University Department of Peace and Conflict Research.
Olsson, Louise. 2001. “Gender Mainstreaming in Practice: The United Nations
Transitional Assistance Group in Namibia,” International Peacekeeping 8(2):
97–110.
Organski, A. F. K., and Kugler, Jacek. 1980. The War Ledger. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press.
Paris, Roland. 2002. “International Peacebuilding and ‘Mission Civilisatrice,’” Review
of International Studies 28: 637–656.
Paris, Roland. At War’s End. Building Peace after Civil Conflict. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2004.
SIPRI Yearbook 2006. New York: Oxford University Press.
Skott, Peter. 1989. “Effective Demand, Class Struggle and Cyclical Growth,”
International Economic Review 30(1): 231–247.
United Nations. 2004. A More Secure World: Our Shared Responsibility. Report of the
Secretary-General’s High-Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change, United
Nations, 2004.
Wallensteen, Peter. 2007. Understanding Conflict Resolution, 2nd ed. London: Sage.
Wallensteen, Peter, and Staibano, Carina (eds.). 2005. International Sanctions: Between
Words and Wars in the Global System. London and New York: Frank Cass.
Woodward, Bob. 2006. State of Denial. Bush at War, Part III. New York: Simon &
Schuster.
Zartman, I. William. 2000. “Mediating Conflicts of Need, Greed and Creed,” Orbis
44(2): 255–266.
3
The Evaluation of
Peacebuilding Initiatives
Putting Learning into Practice
Hal Culbertson
The peacebuilding enterprise is at a critical point in its development

as a field of practice. Peacebuilding emerged in the early to mid-
1990s as a distinct focus of interventions by multilateral agencies
and nongovernmental actors. Much of the impetus for peacebuilding
stemmed from concrete needs on the ground. As the number of civil
conflicts increased after the end of the Cold War, it became appar-
ent that international peacekeeping forces were only able to address
the immediate security needs and that other kinds of intervention
that focused on rebuilding societal structures and institutions were
needed to prevent a relapse into conflict.1 In addition, the peacebuild-
ing enterprise quickly expanded to include efforts at conflict preven-
tion.2
Proponents of peacebuilding in the relief and development com-
munity argued for a greater focus on peace in development agendas
based on research that documented shortcomings of humanitarian
and development efforts in conflict settings.3 This analysis challenged
the assumption that aid can be apolitical and proposed new models of
postconflict assistance that are more sensitive to conflict impact and
seek to address underlying causes of conflict.
The initial arguments for peacebuilding were largely deduc-
tive in character, given the paucity of peacebuilding experience
previously.4 Now that the field has had over a decade of experience,
however, calls are increasing for more inductive evidence of the value
and impact of peacebuilding.5 Although it has established a foothold
in the international community and donor agendas, both as a new
dimension of other fields of practice (such as development) and as a
distinct kind of intervention, peacebuilding still must compete for
resources and attention with relief and development activities as well as health,
education, and other areas of intervention.
As this suggests, the legitimacy of the field as a whole, and not just indi-
vidual initiatives or approaches, is at stake. Tschirgi underscores the urgency of
the situation: “Unless there is growing evidence that changes in programming,
institutional reform, and more effective collaboration and coordination among
different actors serve to promote conflict prevention, conflict management and
post-conflict reconstruction, the peacebuilding agenda will not be sustainable
politically or in terms of deploying the necessary resources.”6
The new challenges posed by the post-9/11 world create additional pressure
to show the relevance and effectiveness of peacebuilding. As Lund observes,
“Whether the anti-terrorist agenda will now skew or subvert the decade-long
process of formulating a multi-dimensional concept of peacebuilding and
nation-building, or instead it will be tempered by them, is a crucial question
that needs to be tracked, not pre-empted.”7
Although some in the peacebuilding community have resisted evaluation,
arguing that peace work will not show results in the short run or cannot be
measured, the mood seems to be changing.8 The peacebuilding community is
increasingly recognizing that evaluation can be an important tool for improv-
ing and legitimating the field. Significantly, efforts to develop better evaluation
systems and processes are coming as much from peacebuilding practitioners
themselves as from the donor community.9
This chapter explores how evaluation can be used to improve the peace-
building field as a whole. It focuses on civil society peacebuilding efforts; how-
ever, it also draws on literature on peacebuilding initiatives by the international
community, and many of the observations and conclusions are relevant to the
evaluation of these wider peacebuilding efforts. As emphasized in the defini-
tion of peacebuilding elaborated by Appleby and Lederach in chapter 1, the
analysis of peacebuilding is grounded in an understanding of the field that
emphasizes the multisectoral and multilevel nature of the peacebuilding enter-
prise and the challenges these pose for evaluation efforts. It identifies a set of
issues in the field that would benefit from more systematic evaluation. It then
concludes by exploring how evaluation processes could be improved to foster
greater learning about these issues.
Paradigms of Evaluation
Evaluation processes can be understood in terms of two broad paradigms:

accountability and learning. The fundamental difference between these orien-
tations concerns who is viewed as the intended “user” of the evaluation find-
ings. A user is someone who has a stake in an initiative or program, such
as program staff, beneficiaries, staff from related organizations, and, in many
cases, the public. Although accountability perspectives give significant weight
to the interests and perspectives of donors or other external users who author-
ize organizational activities, learning approaches give greater weight to the
PUTTING LEARNING INTO PRACTICE 67
interests of organizational staff, practitioners in the field, and even the broader
public.
Accountability Models
The end result of an accountability evaluation is typically a judgment about the
worth, merit, or value of an initiative.10 Donors frequently need to make such
assessments as they decide whether to continue to fund an initiative or repli-
cate it in other areas. Organizations may also make such assessments inter-
nally and may use evaluations to inform those decisions. A key element in
such an evaluation is the establishment of standards against which program
performance will be measured, and then the measurement of how successful
the program was in meeting those standards.
Historically, the practice of evaluation in nongovernmental organizations
(NGOs) has been shaped largely by accountability concerns. In the 1980s and
1990s, the number of NGOs increased dramatically, and their share of inter-
national aid grew, as donors turned away from government-led development
initiatives.11 This growth, together with several highly publicized scandals, led
to demands for greater scrutiny of NGO activities.12
Evaluation became a prominent tool for donors to maintain accountability
among recipients of their funds. Evaluation processes tended to focus on two
dimensions of accountability, which Edwards and Hulme called functional and
strategic accountability.13 First, donors sought to assess whether resources were
used as planned, much like an external financial audit. Second, donors sought
to assess the success of the project in achieving its stated goals and objectives.
A set of standard practices and procedures for managing projects and con-
ducting evaluations was developed that facilitated these assessments. Planning
processes were used, particularly the logical framework planning matrix,14 that
required recipients to specify high-level goals, mid-level objectives, and imme-
diate outputs of every project. In addition, project planners were required to
specify indicators of success against which their project would be measured in
the evaluation.
Because development assistance was the predominant form of interna-
tional aid at the time, many of the models and tools developed were particularly
aimed at development interventions. A standard set of evaluation criteria was
developed by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development
(OECD) Development Assistance Committee (DAC) and is widely used as the
basic framework for evaluations by aid agencies.15 This includes consideration
of relevance (whether the project is suited to local needs and priorities, as well
as donor policies), effectiveness (whether the project achieves its objectives),
efficiency (whether the project is cost-effective), impact (the positive and nega-
tive changes produced by the project, directly or indirectly, intended or unin-
tended), and sustainability (whether the benefits of the project will continue
after donor funding has ceased). These criteria were closely tied to the logframe
planning system, which specified the outputs, objectives, and goals for the
project and the indicators that would be used to measure success at each level.
In reaction to the dominant role of donor perspectives in evaluation proc-

esses, alternative approaches which stress accountability to beneficiaries have
also been developed. As Kaldor has observed, the very structure of NGOs as
nonprofit, voluntary organizations creates a separation between donors and
beneficiaries that weakens the accountability of the organization to the benefi-
ciaries, whose interests are easily overlooked in program decision making.16
In response, participatory approaches to evaluation have been developed that
foster high levels of involvement by local community members in planning
and implementing the evaluation and responding to the results. Such an evalu-
ation may be an extension of the participatory nature of a project itself, with
participants setting standards and then evaluating the initiative’s success in
achieving them.17
Learning Models
Whereas the accountability paradigm focuses on assessing past performance,
learning approaches are oriented toward improving future actions of the
organization that undertook the initiative or other related constituencies. As
Patton observes, “Using evaluation results to improve a program turns out,
in practice, to be fundamentally different from rendering judgment about
overall effectiveness, merit, or worth.”18 Evaluation oriented toward learning
is more open and inductive in its methodology and results in recommen-
dations for improvements rather than mere assessments of past perform-
ance quality. In practice, this means that organizational leadership and staff
play a larger role in shaping the objectives of the evaluation, determining its
timing, framing questions or criteria to be evaluated, and responding to the
findings.
As Church and Rogers indicate, this approach to evaluation in some cases
has led to an expanded role for the evaluator.19 Unlike accountability evalua-
tions, where the evaluator is usually an external expert who collects and ana-
lyzes information for an external donor, evaluators using a learning approach
might spend significant time working with organizational leadership and staff
after the evaluation to discuss the findings and implement the recommended
changes in policy or procedures. This has sometimes raised concerns about
the objectivity and neutrality of the evaluator, which was the prime concern in
accountability models; however, in learning models, this expanded role may be
seen as essential to create effective feedback loops that can facilitate organiza-
tional change.
This approach to evaluation has close connections with the growing
interest in organizational learning. Organizational learning first emerged in
the corporate sector as a field of study and practice focusing on how organiza-
tions incorporate various kinds of feedback from their experiences into their
planning and decision making.20 More recently, many NGOs have made it
part of their overall mission to become “learning organizations.”21 In these
organizations, evaluation is often understood as a critical tool for fostering
learning.22
Evaluation can also be used to foster learning more generally. This approach,
often referred to as “conceptual” use, emphasizes the role evaluation can play
in educating a wider community about the issues under evaluation.23 As Weiss
observed, insights from evaluation sometimes do not have an immediate effect
on specific actions, but nonetheless play a role in bringing about change by
percolating into the public discourse and subtly shaping views and attitudes
toward programs and policies. For example, evaluations of prison rehabilita-
tion programs that indicated they did not decrease recidivism did not have any
discernible impact on prison policy for many years. However, over time, these
evaluations shaped debates about prison reform that led to significant changes
in policy, such as the California legislature’s removal of rehabilitation as a pri-
mary goal of incarceration.24
Sometimes, evaluations designed to increase knowledge are targeted at
a specific community or group, rather than the public at large. For example,
evaluations are sometimes designed to identify best practices and lessons
learned that will improve future activity by similar agencies or help establish
professional standards in the field. Such evaluations might compare a range
of organizational efforts in a certain field of activity to derive general princi-
ples that successful or good programs follow in designing and implementing
activities.
For example, Child Friendly Cities (www.childfriendlycities.org) has inten-
tionally adopted a best practices approach to evaluating various efforts that sup-
port children’s rights in urban areas around the globe. Based on a broad range
of experiences of members of its network, the organization’s secretariat has
created a data bank of these best practices under the UN Convention on the
Rights of the Child and synthesized these into general principles that can guide
future projects.
Evaluations can also contribute to the development of a field of practice by
critically examining the broader theory of change behind a program initiative.
A theory of change is an explanation of how and why a set of activities will bring
about the broader changes it seeks to achieve.25 Theories of change often oper-
ate implicitly. They may be gut instincts or commonsense assumptions, such
as the belief that increasing interaction between members of conflicting groups
will reduce stereotypes or prejudice. Of course, they also may be informed by
social science theories as well as cultural perspectives.
In a theory of change evaluation, the evaluation team seeks to make the
underlying theory of change explicit and then establishes evaluation goals and
priorities to test the theory of change. For example, if a program’s underlying
theory of change is that interaction between members of conflicting groups
will reduce prejudice against the opposing group more generally, the evalua-
tion might seek to measure the extent to which participants have developed
positive perceptions of project participants from the other group as a result of
interacting. Given the project’s theory of change, the evaluation would also con-
sider the extent to which these positive perceptions are transferred to members
of the opposing group who did not participate in the project or to the group as a
whole. By designing the evaluation around the program’s theory of change, the
evaluation results can inform other efforts that are based on similar theories
and contribute to the accumulated wisdom about how best to implement this
kind of project.
Paradigm Choices
Accountability and learning orientations toward evaluation are not mutually
exclusive. Evaluations done primarily for the purposes of accountability have
increasingly considered lessons learned and areas for improvement. Further-
more, donors, who are often seen as primarily interested in accountability, are
increasingly recognizing the role evaluation can play in promoting wider learn-
ing and are actively developing evaluation models to promote this.26
However, tensions can arise between the accountability and learning
paradigms. As Ebrahim points out, evaluations undertaken with accountabil-
ity as the primary motivation tend to focus on penalizing organizations for
not meeting expectations or not complying with accepted norms rather than
helping them improve their performance or the performance of the field in
general.27 In some cases, the evaluation becomes primarily a symbolic act
of legitimating or delegitimating an organizational effort, rather than one
intended to improve it. Even if legitimated through an evaluation, the organi-
zation may receive additional funding or support, but not significant feedback
on how to improve its programs or effectiveness. Moreover, organizational
staff or beneficiaries who understand evaluation in terms of accountability
may skew or avoid disclosing information that could be important for learn-
ing. In this way, the accountability focus can inhibit the learning potential of
evaluation.
As a result, one must consider the strengths and weaknesses of each
approach in determining which type of evaluation is most appropriate for a
given situation. As Carlsson notes, where the mechanism that links the activi-
ties undertaken with the overall objectives of the effort is well understood and
agreed on, an accountability orientation will likely be the most appropriate.28
Accountability approaches are well suited to determining whether the activi-
ties were implemented as planned and the quality of the implementation. For
example, a project focusing on reducing malaria by providing low-cost mos-
quito nets could be evaluated by measuring the number of nets distributed, the
recipients’ use of the nets, and the reduction in the rate of malarial infection in
the area. Because both the cause of malaria and the impact of using a mosquito
net properly are fairly well understood, evaluating key aspects of implementa-
tion is a good indicator that the project had its intended impact.
However, when projects test new methodologies or pursue complex social
goals through approaches that are not well understood, evaluating whether
the program was implemented in accordance with preestablished criteria may
not be the most appropriate focus for evaluation. As Riddell observes about
evaluations aimed at assessing the impact of development interventions,
“Donor funds would probably be better spent in helping NGOs develop and
experiment with different methods of assessment than in undertaking a large
number of impact studies based on methods used to date.”29 In such cases, an

evaluative approach that probes the underlying theory of change and results
in suggestions for improving the effort is better suited to the needs of the
initiative.
The Peacebuilding Enterprise
Understanding the evaluation issues facing the peacebuilding community

requires an understanding of the nature of the enterprise in which it is engaged.
To this end, this section sketches the contours of the peacebuilding enterprise
through an analysis of its overall goals, particularly noting several ways these
goals create dilemmas that the peacebuilding community must grapple with in
evaluating its efforts. As will be seen, the complexity of the enterprise shapes
both the issues that deserve attention through evaluation and the kind of evalu-
ation approaches that need to be used.
Goals
At the risk of sounding tautological, I begin by observing that the enterprise
of peacebuilding is best understood as any activity or initiative that is intended
to promote peace. This approach does not begin with a specific set of activi-
ties, such as conflict resolution, mediation, or the development of democratic
political institutions; instead, it begins with an orientation toward a broad
goal—peace—and considers any person or entity that is intentionally design-
ing programs and initiatives toward that end to be part of the peacebuilding
enterprise.
As Ken Bush argues, if peacebuilding is understood as a specific set of
activities, this limits the concept in ways that may be detrimental to the devel-
opment of the field.30 To overcome this problem, he proposes to define peace-
building as an impact, so that any activity undertaken to achieve that impact
would be considered a peacebuilding activity. In this way, relief and develop-
ment programs that seek to make a community less conflict-prone through
carefully directed economic development activities but do not directly engage
partners in dialogue about conflict or conflict resolution workshops would still
be considered part of the enterprise. The key element is not the particular kind
of activity undertaken but the broader intent that the initiative will have a posi-
tive impact on the conflict.
This understanding of the peacebuilding community is highly inclusive,
but not all-inclusive. As Larissa Fast notes in chapter 11, relief organizations
sometimes seek to keep their efforts separate from peacebuilding initiatives,
as a way of preserving their neutrality or credibility. In such cases, these efforts
would not be considered part of the peacebuilding enterprise and should not be
evaluated in terms of their impact on peace.
Viewed from this perspective, peacebuilding is an extraordinarily complex
and multifaceted endeavor. Those who have attempted to approach the concept
of peace systematically find a dichotomy at its core. Johan Galtung’s famous

distinction between positive and negative peace is often understood as delineat-
ing two fundamental dimensions of the concept of peace. Negative peace refers
to the absence of violent conflict, whereas positive peace refers to the presence
of just relations in society.
Though initially developed as a conceptual tool, the distinction between posi-
tive and negative peace has come to reflect more practical distinctions in the field
of peacebuilding. This can be seen in the overall goals that practitioners articulate
for their activities. Interestingly, the Reflecting on Peace Practices project, which
involved listening to a broad spectrum of “peace practitioners” from a wide range
of contexts, arrived at a similar distinction between two fundamental goals actu-
ally operating within the field: stopping violence and destructive conflict, and
addressing political, economic, and social grievances that drive conflict.31
Evaluation Dilemmas
The relationship between these two overarching goals generates significant
dilemmas for the evaluation of peacebuilding efforts. Although it is common
to view the two as closely intertwined—even as two sides of the same coin—
the nature of their mutual interaction is unclear when viewed in the context of
evaluation. These dilemmas stem from several factors.
First, NGOs and other civil society actors typically articulate their peace-
building goals in terms of positive (rather than negative) peace. Directly con-
tributing to ceasefires is usually beyond the capacity of most NGOs, although
there are a few notable exceptions, such as the contribution of Sant’Egidio to
peace negotiations in Mozambique.32 Of course, NGOs are sensitive to the
impact of their activities on negative peace. Many have adopted “do no harm”
principles and processes to ensure that their initiatives do not unintentionally
fuel conflict. However, this is not typically understood as the organization’s
primary contribution to peacebuilding. This contribution is usually expressed
in language about reconciling broken relationships, changing attitudes toward
the other, and contributing to equitable development and just social institu-
tions.
To what extent should such efforts to build positive peace, such as an effort
to rebuild an interethnic marketplace in a war-torn region, be evaluated by their
impact on the level of armed conflict? On the one hand, because such an effort
is intended to build better relationships between ethnic communities, and in
turn reduce tensions between them, one might expect that the effort would have
some impact on the level of violence. On the other hand, it might be too ambi-
tious to expect such a project, even a broad based and widely supported one,
to contribute to a discernible reduction in armed violence. Furthermore, tying
the success of this project to reductions in the level of violence might make
it susceptible to criticism if violence continues, even if the project is achiev-
ing its immediate objectives. As a result, project designers might seek to frame
the project as a purely positive peacebuilding effort and delink it from negative
peace concerns.
Second, the evaluation problem is complicated by the fact that hard data
on negative peace are often more easily assembled and analyzed than data on
positive peace. Databases like the Conflict Data Project at Uppsala University
provide a good basis for assessments of changes in negative peace in a given
locality. However, similar data on changes in positive peace are more elusive.
One can rely on indices such as the Freedom House index or human rights
reports to assess movements toward positive peace, but these may not reflect
the kinds of changes that are targeted by a given project.
Third, the evaluation dilemma is further magnified when one unpacks
the operative concept of positive peace. As discussed in more detail in chapter
1, positive peace is a comprehensive, all-encompassing goal that may require
changes in virtually all sectors of society—economic, social, and political. As
such, conceptions of positive peace are shaped in significant ways by local fac-
tors, including historical, cultural, and religious understandings of justice and
the common good. Thus, a deep understanding of local perspectives on peace
would be needed to assess the impact of peacebuilding initiatives.
However, as Roland Paris argues, virtually all peacebuilding operations
undertaken by the international community have reflected a liberal interna-
tionalist perspective by attempting to introduce a market economy and liberal
democracy, sometimes with disastrous consequences.33 If positive peace is
defined by this agenda, then the criteria selected for evaluating the success of
peace initiatives may measure adherence to this agenda more than progress
toward peace in the eyes of local people.
As a result, NGOs and other civil society actors who seek to contribute to
peacebuilding may find themselves negotiating between conflicting concep-
tions of positive peace as they develop criteria for evaluation. For example, a
local community may think that giving more freedom to the media will only
empower voices that seek to divide the community, whereas members of the
international community may see this as a prerequisite for a peaceful society.
Or these roles may be reversed. For example, after the Dayton Accords, several
international donors in Bosnia and Herzegovina provided funding to develop
an unbiased media there and to counteract its use to fan ethnic tensions. How-
ever, some donors effectively censored programming that they thought could
inflame ethnic tensions, undermining their stated goal of developing a free
media and alienating local media owners.34
In addition to illustrating the political contentiousness that can surround
peacebuilding projects, this case also highlights the more general uncertainty
and disagreement regarding whether and how a particular effort will contrib-
ute to positive peace in a given locality. Is a truly free media in a postconflict
context an institution that strengthens peace, or is it a potential tool for those
who would reignite the conflict? How does the use, or abuse, of the media dur-
ing conflict affect its capacity to serve as a source of peacebuilding? When are
international efforts to strengthen local media in postconflict situations most
(and least) effective?
An accountability evaluation that focused on whether the project was
implemented according to plan and the quality of the implementation can
easily fail to address important and useful questions such as these. As Church
and Shouldice observe, “Current evaluation generally explores whether a project
has met its stated goals but does not question whether the beliefs about how to
instigate change on which the project is based are accurate.”35 An evaluation-
focused on learning, on the other hand, would treat this situation as an oppor-
tunity for gaining greater insights into how media efforts can better contribute
to peacebuilding. In such situations, there is certainly a need for accountabil-
ity to make sure that funds are spent properly and projects are implemented
appropriately. However, there is also a need for learning that is too often left
unexplored.
Peacebuilding Strategies: Where Can We Improve?
Given comprehensive, multifaceted goals and a highly complex working envi-

ronment, one of the key issues facing the peacebuilding community is its strat-
egy for achieving its goals, particularly its strategy for contributing to positive
peace. Indeed, peacebuilding practitioners often cite strategic issues, such as
the linkages between grassroots involvement and wider peace processes or the
relationship between context and strategy development, as among the most
central to their work.36 However, these kinds of issues are often neglected in the
evaluation of peacebuilding initiatives.37
Organizational strategy is notoriously difficult to define, in part because
the term is used to refer to a variety of distinct but overlapping concepts.38
For our present purposes, strategy is understood as involving an organiza-
tion’s choices about how to deploy its varied resources to meet its overall goals.
This approach to organizational strategy emphasizes the alignment of internal
resources with external realities. Although goals are sometimes viewed sim-
ply as broad statements of organizational vision or as rallying points for staff,
they also reflect strategic choices about the organization’s positioning in the
wider environment relevant to other actors and initiatives as well as decision
making about the effectiveness of intervention approaches adopted in the situ-
ation. Strategic decision making thus involves an alignment of organizational
resources, including its expertise, reputation, and material resources, with the
external environment to achieve organizational goals.
The Strategic Environment

A key component in organizational strategy is the organization’s position within
the wider context or environment. In the context of a business’s activities, this
may involve an analysis of the competition for a good or service and the defini-
tion of a unique niche for the organization’s products or services. Although
similar issues also affect the nonprofit sector, especially as the number of NGOs
continues to grow, increasing the competition for scarce resources, NGOs also
have a strategic interest in coordinating activities and services with other agen-
cies and initiatives to achieve their broader objectives.39
In the context of peacebuilding, the need for coordination with other actors
takes on particular significance. In many cases, coordination is not just a means
to an end; instead, it may be an end in itself to get certain actors to work together.
As such, coordination is not just about tactical concerns, such as making sure
that efforts are not overlapping or redundant with other agencies. It is a key
element of an overall strategy for bringing about wider change or impact.
Yet few organizations evaluate their strategies for achieving wider impact
in the surrounding environment.40 Even when the wider strategy is that of
the funding agency supporting a project, peacebuilding initiatives often fail to
consider links with donor strategies. In one of the largest reviews of peace-
building evaluations undertaken to date, Smith analyzed evaluations of over
336 projects funded by foreign and development ministries in Germany, the
Netherlands, Norway, and the United Kingdom.41 One of the most significant
findings of the study was that more than 55 percent of the projects made no
reference to a wider country strategy for peacebuilding. In some cases this was
because the donor agency did not have a wider strategy for peacebuilding; in
other cases, however, such a strategy existed, but the project was not linked to
it. Smith argued that such a high rate constituted a “strategic deficit” in peace-
building practice.
One reason for the neglect of this aspect of strategy in evaluation is the
inherent difficulty of measuring peacebuilding impact. Fast and Neufeldt iden-
tify several challenges that bedevil attempts to evaluate this impact.42 These
include the inherent long-term nature of peacebuilding efforts, the difficulty
of measuring changes in intangible dimensions such as relationships and atti-
tudes, and the vast political, economic, and social contexts in which peacebuild-
ing occurs.
Unlike some other types of intervention, peacebuilding impact cannot be
determined through aggregation methods. In assessing the impact of micro-
finance initiatives, for example, impact studies typically focus on the changes
in the lives of recipients of microloans and draw conclusions based on the
kind of changes observed across a large pool.43 Although peacebuilding initia-
tives do work with individuals, and their changes of attitude and behavior can
to some extent be measured and aggregated, many of the changes desired in
these initiatives are broader changes in structures, policies, and relationships
between communities, which cannot be readily assessed through aggregation
approaches.
Another reason wider impact is neglected may be fear of accountability for
matters over which the organization has no control. Given current approaches
to evaluation, which focus on measuring results, it is no surprise that impact
strategies are neglected. NGO peacebuilding initiatives are often a small piece
of a much larger and more complex peacebuilding endeavor, and NGOs do not
want to be (and should not be) held accountable if the wider project fails.44
NGOs sometimes assume that the only way to contribute on a wider scale
is to expand their programs, perhaps by replicating them in other villages or
cities, or for chance events to put them in the spotlight or carry their efforts
beyond their local community. However, contributions can also happen through
strategic engagement with other actors, including UN agencies, other NGOs

and NGO networks, local governmental agencies, social movements, govern-
mental policies and programs, donor initiatives, or complex interventions by
the international community to secure implementation of a peace agreement.
Of course, these issues are complicated by the fact that peacebuilding
efforts do not have a natural institutional home on the national or international
levels.45 Unlike health initiatives, which are usually spearheaded by a ministry
of health or other public or international health institution, or rule-of-law ini-
tiatives that revolve around the development of legal and judicial institutions,
peacebuilding initiatives cut across and involve the work of highly diverse insti-
tutional actors. As discussed by Simon Chesterman in chapter 5, the UN has
taken steps to create coordinating agencies, including the new Peacebuilding
Commission, but its capacity to provide an institutional home is still untested.
As a result, coordination takes a wide range of forms in peacebuilding
initiatives. It may involve simply taking cognizance of other actors and their
strategies in program planning and implementation and could also extend to
actively engaging with others in joint efforts and everything in between. Coor-
dination also needs to happen across a broad array of differences, including
coordination between insiders and outsiders (most often the local community
and international actors), between actors in different societal sectors (govern-
ment, military, civil society, business communities), and between actors in dif-
ferent professional fields and disciplines (including health, education, security,
agriculture, the judiciary, and many others). In addition, each institution or
sector may be affected somewhat differently by conflict, making the coordina-
tion challenges in any given situation unique.
Evaluation efforts should provide feedback to peacebuilders on how enga-
gement with other actors and initiatives can enhance (or inhibit) program
reach and impact. The purpose of such an inquiry is not to establish that the
organization’s efforts led to peace writ large, which is unlikely to be the case,
or even to show the exact level of its contribution to certain outcomes through
some kind of attribution analysis. Rather, what is important to learn is how
such engagement strengthened (or weakened) the overall capacity for peace-
building in the society.
Useful areas for exploration might include the organization’s choice of
wider initiatives to engage in, the quality of its engagement, and the impact
of the engagement on the wider initiative and the organization—issues rarely
discussed in evaluations focused on accountability. If a local peacebuilding ini-
tiative chooses to participate in a national social movement for peace, for exam-
ple, is this the kind of link that could foster greater impact in society at large, or
does this do little to expand the reach of the initiative? What costs and benefits
does this create for the organization and the social movement? Or if a Catholic
NGO engages with a Muslim NGO to promote interreligious dialogue in an
area marked by violence between their members, how does the joint nature of
the initiative affect its legitimacy and impact, and how is it viewed in the wider
community? Similar questions could be asked regarding engagement with UN
coordinating agencies or local officials.
Of course, positioning strategies do not necessarily have to involve align-

ment with a wider peacebuilding initiative; they may also involve criticism or
advocacy for alternative approaches. NGOs are highly independent actors, and
this approach to evaluating impact strategies does not seek to remove that inde-
pendence. The key question is not whether the NGO joined a wider initiative,
but whether it engaged it constructively.
Strategy Formulation
Strategy formulation is often understood solely as the making of strategic plans.
However, as Mintzberg and Waters observe, although strategic plans are an
important point of reference, they are only one end of a continuum that consti-
tutes organizational strategy formation.46 They distinguish between “deliberate
strategies,” which take the form of plans, and “emergent strategies,” which are
formed through patterns of decisions and actions by organizational personnel
that occur despite or in the absence of strategic plans.
For example, an NGO that states in its strategic plan that it seeks to reduce
intercommunal violence at a local university by training students in nonvio-
lent approaches to conflict would be following a deliberate strategy in organ-
izing trainings for students. If the NGO learns through its engagement with
students that the university administration’s mismanagement of conflicts is a
major contributing factor in the violence, and the NGO then works with univer-
sity administrators to develop their conflict management system, the strategy
guiding this effort would be emergent rather than deliberate. As Mintzberg and
Waters argue, emergent strategies are not necessarily a sign that organizational
leaders are out of control; instead, they may be reacting to opportunities or
changes in the environment in wholly appropriate ways.47 Indeed, emergent
strategies may later become deliberate strategies as part of a subsequent stra-
tegic planning process.
Strategy formulation in any organizational context can be understood as
the interaction of deliberate and emergent strategies. Based on a wide range of
case studies, Mintzberg and Waters delineate several amalgams of deliberate
and emergent strategies, including planned strategies that are based largely
on goals articulated in a strategic plan, entrepreneurial strategies where there
is a highly individual vision that is elaborated in subsequent actions, umbrella
strategies where organizational leaders provide broad boundaries but leave
decisions within those boundaries, and consensus strategies where all organi-
zational personnel converge on a pattern of mutual adjustment of goals. The
key factors determining the mix of deliberate and emergent strategies are the
degree of control needed or desired by organizational leaders and the volatility
of the external environment.
The evaluation of peacebuilding strategies needs to give appropriate weight
to each aspect of strategy formulation. The deliberative dimension of peace-
building has received much greater attention than emergent strategies. This is
due in large part to the fact that standard NGO evaluation systems focus almost
exclusively on strategic plans as the point of reference for evaluation.
Recent assessments of the planning of peacebuilding projects indicate a

need for more appropriate tools for designing peacebuilding interventions.
As Smith observes, “It is striking that project documentation frequently offers
no clear analysis of the problem that is to be addressed by the project. When
present, the analysis often gets no further than acknowledging that there is a
conflict and therefore conflict resolution activities are appropriate.”48
To assist in formulating deliberate strategies, peacebuilders need planning
tools that help them better articulate their understanding of the conflict(s) they
confront and the kinds of changes that are needed to foster sustainable peace.
This understanding can be articulated through a variety of methods, including
conflict maps or implementation frameworks that delineate changes needed
across various sectors, such as the demobilization of militants, the removal of
discriminatory laws, and equitable economic development.
In creating such a framework, those developing an intervention strategy
must consider whether to emphasize prioritization or integration. While focus-
ing primarily on high-level peacebuilding operations by the international com-
munity instead of civil society initiatives, Stedman et al.’s work on ending civil
wars provides a good illustration of the prioritization approach.49 They divide
peacebuilding into several subgoals, including the demobilization and reinte-
gration of combatants, disarmament, elections, human rights, and refugee
repatriation. Based on an analysis of sixteen cases, they conclude that while
other sectors should not be neglected, the demobilization of soldiers and the
demilitarization of politics should be given the highest priority in peacebuild-
ing operations, given the central role they play in relation to needs in other
sectors.
Lederach’s approach, on the other hand, emphasizes the need for integrat-
ing multiple dimensions and even multiple time frames in responding to deep-
rooted conflict.50 Like Stedman, Lederach posits that sustainable peace requires
changes in a range of arenas, which he describes as the personal, relational,
structural, and cultural spheres. However, Lederach’s arenas are not seen as
distinct sectors but as concentric circles with each embedded in the subsequent
arena. Given the complex interconnections between these dimensions, partic-
ularly at the local level, he encourages peacebuilders to consider all of these
dimensions as they develop peacebuilding projects and to be particularly sensi-
tive to opportunities to develop activities that integrate multiple dimensions.
Likewise, Anderson and Olson suggest that integrative strategies are a pre-
requisite for effective peacebuilding.51 They note that peacebuilding efforts
aimed at changing public attitudes and building interpersonal relationships
are much more likely to succeed if they are linked with processes that seek to
change social and political structures. Of course, as they recognize, this does
not mean that each organization or initiative must itself be multisector and
integrated. If a project is well coordinated with other peacebuilding efforts in
other sectors or working on other issues, the organization itself may not need to
diversify its program. Thus, a key strategic choice, and one that deserves greater
attention in evaluation, concerns whether an organization develops an integrated
program itself or seeks stronger coordination with efforts by other actors.
In cases where an organization does develop a highly integrated initiative,

evaluating such an initiative poses some unique challenges. As Bush observes,
an educational initiative that also seeks to improve relationships between
members of different ethnic groups can be understood as having both an educa-
tional and a peacebuilding goal.52 Such a project might succeed in improving
relations between students but fail in improving test scores. Or it might lead to
improved test scores but fail in improving relationships. In either case, the
effectiveness and value of pursuing the project as an integrated initiative is
brought into question. Peacebuilding efforts which integrate multiple dimen-
sions, such as combining local refugee resettlement with involvement in
national-level reconciliation efforts, may pose similar dilemmas.
To meet these challenges, peacebuilders will need to better articulate the
underlying rationale for pursuing integrated programming and then evaluate
the validity of that rationale in practice. An examination of initiatives that inte-
grated peacebuilding with health programs provides a useful model of how to
evaluate initiatives with two simultaneous goals. MacQueen and Santa-Barbara
identify five mechanisms or stratagems through which health initiatives can
play a role in peacebuilding.53 For example, one stratagem posits that certain
health needs of the population may form superordinate goals that transcend
the interests of the conflicting parties and provide opportunities to promote
cooperation between them. They note that in El Salvador in the mid-1980s,
UNICEF, the Catholic Church, and other organizations negotiated three days
of tranquility each year for seven years that allowed immunization of children
against common diseases. Evidence suggests that the common interest in child
health on both sides of the conflict played an important role in gaining agree-
ment to these temporary cease-fires. In addition, this appears to have strength-
ened the standing of the Church as it participated in the peace accord process.
A similar evaluation of the particular stratagems behind integrated efforts
would be useful in many other areas.
Whereas deliberate strategies are often the focus of evaluation, emergent
strategies are rarely examined. The implications of this neglect for the evalu-
ation and improvement of peacebuilding endeavors are far-reaching. Given
the volatility of their working environment, peacebuilders frequently need to
adjust plans in light of a changed environment. If evaluation efforts do not
consider these adaptations of strategy, an important opportunity for learning
is lost.
In reflecting on his years of experience in peacebuilding practice, Lederach
underscores the pivotal role that unplanned occurrences or serendipitous deci-
sions play in bringing about wider change:
My greatest contributions to peacebuilding did not seem to be those

that emerged from my “accumulated skill” or “intentional purpose.”
They were those that happened unexpectedly. At a certain point, I
came to call this “divine naiveté”, which originally I defined as the
practitioner’s dilemma of learning more from mistakes than successes.
The reality was that these were not mistakes in the proper sense of
the word; they were important things that happened along the way
that were not planned.54
The evaluation of serendipity may seem to be a futile undertaking. Yet
models have been developed to explore how emergent and deliberative strate-
gies interact. A recent study of nonprofit governance examined how a board
chairperson and organizational CEO blended deliberate and emergent strate-
gies in guiding a new organization committed to developing stronger nonprofit
boards.55 The study used an ethnographic method to probe how decisions
made in response to opportunities or concerns of stakeholders are woven into
more deliberative strategic planning. Although such an evaluation is difficult
to conduct and will require the development of new evaluation tools and
approaches, it could provide significant insights into the practice of peace-
building.
Implications for Evaluation Processes
If improving the strategic dimensions of peacebuilding initiatives is a priority

for the field, what practical steps can be taken to make evaluation more effec-
tive in addressing issues of strategy?
Designing Projects
Giving greater emphasis to learning about strategy begins at the project design
phase, when plans for evaluation approaches and criteria are often determined
and funding for evaluation is allocated. As currently implemented, program
planning systems often do not promote the consideration and articulation of
specific strategies for achieving wider impact.56 Although wider goals may be
stated and indicators that these goals are being achieved may even be included
in the plan, the particular strategy through which the program will contribute
to these wider goals is often left implicit. To evaluate a strategy, evaluators must
know what strategic choices were made during the design phase (and during
project implementation) and why they were made.
One approach to encouraging greater attention to strategy issues in plan-
ning is the development of a theory of change. Theories of change were first
developed as an approach to evaluation, as already discussed. Over time,
however, theories of change have increasingly been used as project planning
tools.
Although theories of change are not usually discussed in conjunction with
strategies, the links between them deserve attention. Articulating the underly-
ing beliefs and assumptions about how the project is intended to work can
sharpen program goals and strategies, help identify relevant indicators, and
promote learning from program activities. Reflection on a project’s theory
of change can also generate questions that will be relevant to peacebuilding
practitioners in other contexts. For example, if a dialogue among community
religious leaders is intended to have an impact on local members of these reli-

gious communities, one key link between the activity and goal is the commu-
nication systems within each religious community that report on and discuss
the dialogues. Given the key role they play in the project strategy, these com-
munications systems deserve close attention in the project’s monitoring and
evaluation system. An evaluation that explored the role of these systems in the
project and reflected on how these systems can be effectively used to broaden
the project’s impact could be useful to practitioners in many other contexts.
Scope of Evaluations
Evaluations based on an accountability paradigm often focus on the project or
program level. Donors typically provide funds to specific projects or programs,
and thus their interest in accountability most naturally requires an evaluation
of the recipient of the funds. In the case of the U4 (Germany, Great Britain,
Norway, and the Netherlands), for example, individual project evaluation was
the norm, and over 40 percent of peacebuilding projects funded by U4 coun-
tries were evaluated.57 However, “despite this considerable effort in evaluat-
ing peacebuilding activities, and though many of the evaluations draw useful
conclusions about individual projects, there is no basis for drawing wider con-
clusions about, for example, what works and what does not work in U4 peace-
building.”58
When viewed from the perspective of the peacebuilding community, evalu-
ations that are wider in scope may provide more useful feedback that fosters
learning by the community. Such an evaluation can compare efforts of different
actors as well as observe how different actors coordinated their efforts. These
could include evaluations of the overall response to a specific conflict by a par-
ticular funding agency, the evaluation of all efforts of a particular type or in
a particular sector, systemwide evaluations of how all sectors responded to a
given conflict, or international comparisons of peacebuilding initiatives.59
An evaluation of ten years of grant making in the area of conflict resolution
by the Mott Foundation provides an instructive example of the value of wider
scope for learning. In addition to evaluations of several specific initiatives, the
report derives a number of lessons from a diverse range of experiences. For
example, it notes the critical importance of the point of entry into a conflict
situation and observes how “skilled, committed and publicly known university
faculty and students proved to be appropriate partners and project participants
in several programs.”60
Evaluation Methods
If the promotion of learning by the peacebuilding community is the goal of
an evaluation, then the participation of peacebuilding practitioners in evalu-
ations is critical. As Church and Shouldice note, external evaluators may not
understand the local environment or may miss important local factors affecting
the project.61 Practitioners bring questions and perspectives that complement
those of professional evaluators or academics, who typically make up evalua-

tion teams. Including practitioners, both local and those from other contexts,
would give the peacebuilding community an important stake in and link to
evaluation.
Of course, making learning a priority will also require changes in the way
that evaluations are conducted. Although the OECD/DAC guidelines provide
a useful point of reference, they do not focus attention directly on strategic
issues. Analysis of the “effectiveness” of a project is akin to operational strategy;
however, the practice of assessing effectiveness looks primarily at whether the
program met the established targets for its objectives laid out in its plan. Thus,
evaluation of issues such as the merits of an integrated programming strategy
might fall outside the scope of this criterion.
These guidelines need revision to more adequately meet the current needs
of the peacebuilding community. Interestingly, the OECD/DAC has recognized
that its criteria would need adjustments if they were used to evaluate interven-
tions other than development. In providing guidelines for the evaluation of
humanitarian efforts in complex emergencies, the OECD/DAC recommended
adding several criteria, including coverage (whether the effort reaches major
groups facing life-threatening suffering wherever they are and is devoid of extra-
neous political agendas), coherence (whether humanitarian actors are acting
coherently with military, security, trade, and development policies and with the
policies of other humanitarian actors), and coordination (whether humanitar-
ian actors are working effectively with other actors in the situation). The OECD/
DAC has begun a similar process to adapt its general guidelines to the needs of
conflict prevention and peacebuilding initiatives, and preliminary reports have
been published.62 Issuing guidelines that focused evaluations on the strategic
challenges facing the peacebuilding community would be a welcome step.
Dissemination and Use of Evaluations

If evaluations are to promote learning by the practitioner community, they
must be available to the practitioner community. Of course, the dissemination
of evaluation findings raises a number of delicate ethical and political issues.
Confidentiality may sometimes be necessary to protect the disclosure of sensi-
tive information. In addition, the public release of evaluation reports, positive
or negative, can create dilemmas for both funders and the organizations they
support. As a result, evaluators have found it necessary to determine from the
outset who will be entitled to see the final product.63
Nonetheless, organizations should make every effort to disseminate rel-
evant evaluations to the wider community. The Internet has made it possible
to disseminate written reports cheaply and widely. In recent years, a number
of Web sites have begun to post evaluations of peacebuilding projects.64 These
evaluations not only provide insights into the achievements of peacebuilding
projects in a wide range of settings but also suggest models for new projects
and innovative approaches to evaluation. Wider dissemination could increase
use of evaluations in the development of new peacebuilding programs.
Conclusion
The current challenges facing the peacebuilding community would benefit

from evaluations that seek to promote learning. In the complex and volatile
environments where peacebuilding efforts are implemented, program impact
beyond immediate results is subject to myriad external factors beyond the con-
trol of the implementing organization or agency. In such a situation, many
of the primary questions facing peacebuilding practitioners are strategic in
nature: Are we working with the right people or groups to bring about wider
change in the situation? Are the activities appropriate for bringing about those
changes? Did we build appropriate linkages with other efforts that reinforce
and multiply impact?
An approach to evaluation rooted in accountability is unlikely to provide
the feedback needed to improve the practice of peacebuilding. Although set-
ting goals and performance indicators as part of project design and then evalu-
ating success in achieving these intended outcomes is useful, this approach
to evaluation can easily neglect emergent strategies or underlying theories of
change that effectively guide program efforts. Given the fundamental nature of
peacebuilding as a multidimensional and multilevel enterprise, evaluating the
advantages and disadvantages of alternative strategies is critical to the further
advancement of the field.
In addition, organizations or efforts resist being held accountable for out-
comes they have little control over, even as they hope to contribute to these out-
comes. As a result, organizations that perceive they will be held in some sense
accountable for wider impact are likely to narrowly circumscribe their program
goals and may neglect integration with wider efforts. Recent research on donor
evaluations65 and practitioner attitudes66 suggests that this is happening.
Peacebuilding practitioners should be encouraged to think deeply about
the role their initiatives play in wider peace efforts. Peacebuilders cannot deliver
peace on their own. However, they can deliver outcomes that help move peace
processes or efforts forward if their initiatives are linked with others. A learn-
ing approach to evaluation processes can encourage reflection and action that
will improve these critical links.
NOTES
I thank John Darby for his useful comments on earlier versions of this chapter.
1. Tschirgi, Necla. 2004. “Peacebuilding as the Link between Peace and Security:
Is the Window of Opportunity Closing?” In International Peace Academic Studies in
Security and Development. New York: International Peace Academy, p. 2.
2. Lund, Michael. 2003. “What Kind of Peace Is Being Built? Taking Stock of
Post-Conflict Peacebuilding and Charting Future Directions. A Discussion Paper.”
International Development Research Centre, p. 6.
3. Anderson, Mary B. 1999. Do No Harm: How Aid Can Support Peace—or War.
Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner. Uvin, Peter. 1998. Aiding Violence. The Development
Enterprise in Rwanda. West Hartford, Conn.: Kumarian Press. Menkhaus, Ken. 2003.
“Measuring Impact: Issues and Dilemmas. A Discussion Paper.” War-Torn Societies

Project (WSP), p. 3.
4. Ibid.
5. Lund, 2003, p. 16.
6. Tschirgi, 2004, p. 15.
7. Lund, 2003, p. 20.
8. Anderson, Mary B., and Lara Olson. 2003. Confronting War: Critical Lessons for
Peace Practitioners. Cambridge, Mass.: Collaborative for Development Action,
pp. 8–9. Church, Cheyanne, and Julie Shouldice. 2003. The Evaluation of Conflict Reso-
lution Interventions, Part II: Emerging Practice and Theory. Derry/Londonderry, North-
ern Ireland: INCORE, pp. 6–7.
9. Lederach, John Paul, Reina C. Neufeldt, and Hal Culbertson. 2007. Reflective
Peacebuilding: A Planning, Monitoring, and Learning Toolkit. Mindanao, Philippines:
Joan B. Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies, University of Notre Dame and
Catholic Relief Services Southeast, East Asia Regional Office. Church, Cheyanne, and
Mark Rogers. 2006. Designing for Results: Integrating Monitoring and Evaluation in
Conflict Transformation Programs: Search for Common Ground. Available at http://www.
sfcg.org/programmes/ilr/ilt_manualpage.html (accessed October 26, 2006).
Anderson, Mary B., and Lara Olson. 2003. Confronting War: Critical Lessons for Peace
Practitioners. Cambridge, Mass.: Collaborative for Development Action. Conflict
Sensitive Approaches to Development, Humanitarian Assistance, and Peacebuilding: Tools
for Peace and Conflict Impact Assessment. 2003. FEWER, International Alert, Safer-
world. Strategic and Responsive Evaluation of Peacebuilding: Toward a Learning Model.
2001. Naivasha, Kenya: NPI-Africa and the NCCK-CPBD Project.
10. Patton, Michael Quinn. 1997. Utilization-Focused Evaluation: The New Century
Text, 3rd ed. Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage, p. 65.
11. Smillie, Ian. 1997. “NGOs and Development Assistance: A Change in Mind-
Set?” Third World Quarterly 18 (3): 563–577.
12. Ebrahim, Alnoor. 2003. “Accountability in Practice: Mechanisms for NGOs.”
World Development 31 ( 5): 813.
13. Edwards, Michael, and David Hulme. 1995. “NGO Performance and Account-
ability: Introduction and Overview.” In NGOs—Performance and Accountability: Beyond
the Magic Bullet, edited by M. Edwards and D. Hulme. London: Earthscan Publications.
14. A logical framework, or “logframe,” is a project design and management tool.
The framework is usually presented in the form of a matrix. The rows in the matrix
describe the logical link between a project’s activities, outputs, purposes, and overall
goal. The columns specify indicators that will be used to measure project success at
various levels, the means that will be used to verify the indicators, and underlying
assumption about the project design.
15. OECD/DAC. 1999. “Evaluation and Aid Effectiveness: Guidance for Evaluat-
ing Humanitarian Assistance in Complex Emergencies.” Organisation for Economic
Co-operation and Development, Development Assistance Committee.
16. Kaldor, Mary. 2003. “Civil Society and Accountability.” Journal of Human
Development 4 (1): 5–27.
17. Ross, Marc. 2001. “Action Evaluation in the Theory and Practice of Conflict
Resolution.” Peace and Conflict Studies 8 (1).
18. Patton, 1997, p. 68.
19. Church and Rogers, 2006.
20. Argyris, Chris, and Donald Schön. 1978. Organizational Learning: A Theory of
Action Perspective. Reading, Mass.: Addison-Wesley.
21. Roper, Laura, and Jethro Pettit. 2003. “Development and the Learning Organi-
sation: an introduction.” In Development and the Learning Organization, edited by
L. Roper, J. Pettit, and D. Eade. Oxford: Oxfam GB, p. 1.
22. Riddell, Roger C. 1999. “Evaluating NGO Development Interventions.”
In International Perspective on Voluntary Action: Reshaping the Third Sector, edited by
D. Lewis. London: Earthscan, p. 234. Carlsson, Charlotte, and Paul G. H. Engel.
2002. “Enhancing Learning through Evaluation: Approaches, Dilemmas and Some
Possible Ways Forward” (Background Papers). Maastricht: ECDPM.
23. Weiss, Carol Hirschon. 1982. “Policy Research in the Context of Diffuse Deci-
sion Making.” Journal of Higher Education 52 (6).
24. Ibid.
25. Weiss, Carol Hirschon. 1995. “Nothing as Practical as Good Theory: Explor-
ing Theory-Based Evaluation for Comprehensive Community Initiatives for Children
and Families.” In New Approaches to Evaluating Community Initiatives: Concepts, Methods,
and Contexts, edited by J. Connell and others. Washington, D.C.: Aspen Institute.
26. McGarvey, Craig. 2004, 2006. “Learning Together: Collaborative Inquiry
among Grantors and Grantees.” Kellogg Foundation. 1998. Evaluation Handbook.
27. Ebrahim, Alnoor. 2005. “Accountability Myopia: Losing Sight of Organiza-
tional Learning.” Nonprofit and Voluntary Sector Quarterly 34 (1): 56–87.
28. Carlsson and Engel, 2002, p. 10.
29. Riddell, 1999, p. 237.
30. Bush, Kenneth. 1998. A Measure of Peace: Peace and Conflict Impact Assessment
(PCIA) of Development Projects in Conflict Zones. The Peacebuilding and Reconstruc-
tion Program Initiative & The Evaluation Unit, International Research and Develop-
ment Centre, pp. 33–34.
31. Anderson and Olson, 2003, p. 12.
32. Ross, Marc Howard, and Jay Rothman. 1999. “Issues of Theory and Practice
in Ethnic Conflict Management.” In Theory and Practice of Ethnic Conflict Manage-
ment, edited by M. H. Ross and J. Rothman. London/New York: Macmillan/
St. Martin’s Press, p. 2. Aall, Pamela. 2001. “What Do NGOs Bring to Peacemaking?”
In Turbulent Peace: The Challenges of Managing International Conflict, edited by
C. A. Crocker, F. O. Hampton, and P. Aall. Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace,
p. 374.
33. Paris, Roland. 2004. At War’s End: Building Peace after Civil Conflict.
New York: Cambridge University Press.
34. Kumar, Krishna. 1999. Promoting Social Reconciliation in Postconflict Societies:
Selected Lessons from USAID’s Experience. Center for Development Information and
Evaluation. U.S. Agency for International Development.
35. Church and Shouldice, 2003, p. 23.
36. Anderson and Olson,. 2003, p. 2.
38. Mintzberg, Henry. 1987. “The Strategy Concept I: Five P’s for Strategy.” Cali-
fornia Management Review 30 (3).
39. Cooley, Alexander, and James Ron. 2002. “The NGO Scramble: Organiza-
tional Insecurity and the Political Economy of Transnational Action.” International
Security 27 (1): 5–39.
40. Anderson and Olson, 2003, p. 14.
41. Smith, Dan. 2004. “Towards a Strategic Framework for Peacebuilding: Get-
ting Their Act Together.” In Overview Report of the Joint Utstein Study of Peacebuilding.
Bratvaag: Royal Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
42. Fast, Larissa A., and Reina C. Neufeldt. 2005. “Envisioning Success: Building
Blocks for Strategic and Comprehensive Peacebuilding Impact Evaluation.” Journal of
Peacebuilding and Development 2 (2): 24–41, p. 25.
43. Microfinance Gateway Impact Assessment Center. 2006. Available at http://
microfinancegateway.com/section/resourcecenters/impactassessment.
44. Prendergast, John, and Emily Plumb. 2002. “Building Local Capacity: From
Implementation to Peacebuilding.” In Ending Civil Wars: The Implementation of Peace
Agreements, edited by S. J. Stedman, D. Rothchild, and E. M. Cousens. Boulder, Colo.:
Lynne Rienner, p. 328.
45. Tschirgi, 2004, p. 5.
46. Mintzberg, Henry, and James A. Waters. 1985. “Of Strategies, Deliberate and
Emergent.” Strategic Management Journal 6 (3): 257–272.
47. Ibid., p. 271.
48. Smith, 2004, p. 45.
49. Stedman, Stephen John. 2001. “International Implementation of Peace
Agreements in Civil Wars: Findings of a Study of Sixteen Cases.” In Turbulent Peace:
The Challenges of Managing International Conflict. Edited by Chester A. Crocker, Fen
Osler Hampson, and Pamela Aall. Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace, pp.
737–752.
50. Lederach, John Paul. 2003. The Little Book of Conflict Transformation. Good
Books.
51. Anderson and Olson, 2003.
52. Bush, 2001, p. 4.
53. MacQueen, Graeme, and Joanna Santa-Barbara. 2000. “Conflict and
Health: Peacebuilding through Health Initiatives.” British Medical Journal 321:
293–296.
54. Lederach, John Paul. 2005. The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Peace-
building. Oxford: Oxford University Press, p. 115.
55. Morrison, J. Bart, and Paul Salipante. 2007. “Governance for Broadened
Accountability: Blending Deliberate and Emergent Strategizing,” Nonprofit and Volun-
tary Sector Quarterly 36 ( 2): 195–217.
56. Smith, 2004, p. 46.
57. Ibid., p. 50.
58. Ibid., p. 51.
59. OECD/DAC, 1999.
60. Mott Foundation. 1999. Reaching for Peace: Lessons Learned from Mott Founda-
tion’s Conflict Resolution Grantmaking, 1989–1998. Charles Stewart Mott Foundation.
Available at: http://www.mott.org/publications/pdf/SPECIALreachingforpeace.pdf
(accessed October 26, 2003), p. 26.
62. OECD/DAC, 2007. “Encouraging Effective Evaluation of Conflict Prevention
and Peacebuilding Activities: Toward DAC Guidance.” OECD Journal of Development 8
(3): 7–106.
63. Ibid., p. 23.
64. These include the ALNAP Evaluation Reports Database (http://www.alnap.
org), the CR Info—Completed Evaluations (http://www.crinfo.org/action/recom-
mended.jsp?list_id=882), the DAC Evaluation Resource Center (http://www.oecd.org/
dac/evaluationnetwork/derec), and Search for Common Ground Evaluations (http://
www.sfcg.org/sfcg/sfcg_evaluations.html).
65. Smith, 2004, p. 53.
66. Anderson and Olson, 2003.
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4
Reconciliation: An Ethic for
Peacebuilding
Daniel Philpott
A genocide in Rwanda that killed 800,000 people; a civil war in

Sudan that took over 2 million lives; wars in Northern Ireland and
the Middle East that have taken far fewer lives but have convulsed
societies and regions; the thousands of injustices committed by com-
munist dictatorships in East Germany and Poland. In all of these set-
tings—ones where human rights violations number in commas and
zeros—is situated the central theme of this volume: the multiplicity
and interdependence of practices that constitute strategic peacebuild-
ing. Where injustice and suffering is colossal, systemic, and splayed
into manifold dimensions, the building of peace involves a range of
actors, activities, time horizons, and modes of analysis. Multiplicity
and interdependence attend even the concept of peace itself: peace
scholars commonly make a distinction between a negative peace,
involving the cessation of armed hostilities, and positive peace, which
realizes a degree of justice. Understanding the many dimensions
of peacebuilding in turn involves multiplicity and interdependence
among modes of analysis: empirical, policy prescriptive, and legal—
and also ethical. The latter sort is pursued in this essay: what consti-
tutes justice in the wake of its massive despoliation?1
Justice in fact embodies the multiple dimensions of peacebuild-
ing, all of which are shot through with ethical questions. Should
negotiators forgo the prosecution of war criminals to secure their
assent to a peace settlement? Are conditional amnesties justifiable? If
so, under what conditions? What are the respective roles of interna-
tional and domestic actors in prosecuting war criminals? May leaders
apologize on behalf of entire nations? Are reparations owed to repre-
sentatives of past generations? Who owes them, and how much? Can
states practice forgiveness? Or does forgiveness unjustifiably sacrifice retribu-

tive justice? Might outside states or international organizations exercise the
prerogatives of sovereignty in helping societies rebuild? Many of these ques-
tions, many of these several dimensions of peacebuilding’s ethical multiplicity
have been taken up by political philosophers, legal theorists, theologians, and
other scholars. Many overlap with other chapters in this volume—prosecution
versus peace in Robert Johansen’s chapter, the several dilemmas of transitional
justice that arise in Naomi Roht-Arriaza’s chapter, the prerogatives of outside
states and institutions in Simon Chesterman’s piece, and forgiveness in Robert
Enright, Jeannette Knutson Enright, and Anthony Holter’s chapter. What only
a few scholars have addressed, though, is peacebuilding’s ethical interdepend-
ence. Might a just response in one area be related to a just response in another
area? Might an ethical approach to one dimension of peacebuilding be incom-
plete if it is not accompanied by a similar engagement of other dimensions? Is
there a common concept that links together the ethics that govern peacebuild-
ing’s several dimensions? What is needed is a holistic ethics of peacebuilding,
developing the moral logic of its several component activities, identifying their
complementarities, and resolving tensions between them.
A model of success for such a project is the ethic produced by the just war
tradition. Developed over centuries in the West and resonating in several cultural
traditions, the just war ethic ingeniously derives from philosophical roots a set of
integrated ethical guidelines that governs a wide range of questions of war and
that has succeeded in becoming institutionalized in international law, taught in
military academies, invoked in trials and truth commissions, and appealed to in
political debates, even if its standards are still seldom heeded in practice.2 Although
notions of justice for dealing with past political evil also have ancient pedigrees, a
similarly integrated ethic for contemporary recovering states remains at a compar-
atively early stage. Whether one will ever succeed in commanding the consensus
and influence of the just war ethic is an open question, one whose answer surely
depends on the long-term conversation of a community of scholars.
This chapter joins that conversation. It outlines a general approach to the
justice of dealing with the past in political settings where colossal evil has taken
place. Its orienting concept has arisen from debates about justice in recover-
ing societies all across the globe: reconciliation. The term is eponymous for
truth commissions in Chile, South Africa, Sierra Leone, Liberia, East Timor,
and Peru and often appears in the discourse of scholars, analysts, and politi-
cal actors elsewhere. True to peacebuilding, reconciliation is an ethic of mul-
tiplicity and interdependence. The ethic begins by recognizing a multiplicity
of wounds that political injustices leave behind. It is then constructed from a
multiplicity of traditions that it brings into dialogue, also a kind of interdepend-
ence. It draws its core concepts from religious traditions—Judaism, Christian-
ity, Islam—where reconciliation finds its richest and most ancient expression,
but then seeks to synthesize these concepts with the best insights of the lib-
eral tradition—human rights, democracy, and law—to form an ethic for mod-
ern politics. The result of the synthesis is an ethic of restorative justice whose
central virtue is mercy, understood in its classical sense. From this center, the
RECONCILIATION : AN ETHIC FOR PEACEBUILDING 93
ethic then derives six practices that give reconciliation political expression:
building just institutions, acknowledgment, reparations, accountability, apol-
ogy, and forgiveness. Manifesting multiplicity, each practice addresses different
wounds of political injustice in different ways. Interdependently, the practices
relate to one another through synergies and tensions. This chapter seeks to
depict this multiplicity and interdependence by presenting a conceptual map
of an ethic of reconciliation. Of necessity, it will touch briefly on many issues
whose justification, explanation, and application require far more attention
than can be offered here.3 It is rather the holistic, interwoven character of the
ethic—reflecting the same characteristics of peacebuilding—that is conveyed.
The Wounds of Political Injustice
In its most ancient meanings, reconciliation connotes a comprehensive res-

toration of right relationship. The Jewish concept of shalom, for instance,
describes a state of peace where everyone is living in right relationship with
God and with everyone else, in every respect. Advocated here is a more limited
concept of political reconciliation. It draws on holistic religious conceptions of
restoration and aspires to a subset of what they envision—right relationship
in the political order. In modern political orders, at least reasonably just ones,
right relationship is realized through the rule of law, which the state lives under
and promotes and which citizens uphold when they respect and recognize the
rights and dignity of other citizens. The kind of rupture in right relationship
relevant to political reconciliation, then, is political injustices—deeds through
which agents of the state or opposition forces violate the rule of law in the
name of political ends or simply unjust laws and structures. In contemporary
contexts of peacebuilding, political injustices have typically occurred on a colos-
sal and systemic scale—in commas and zeroes. They depict the fundamental
condition that an ethic of peacebuilding must address.
Exactly which sorts of actions and structures are political injustices? Accord-
ing to whose rule of law? The institutions and political processes through which
societies have dealt with the past over the past generation—truth commissions,
trials, reparations schemes, and the like—have almost uniformly adopted as
their governing standards the norms of human rights and the laws of war
that can be found in the United Nations Charter, the Universal Declaration of
Human Rights, and sundry international legal instruments. Most prominent
are the three crimes with which the Nuremberg Trials charged Nazi war crimi-
nals in 1945 and 1946, including military aggression, war crimes, and crimes
against humanity, in which a body of people is violently persecuted. Genocide
and torture are also strongly embedded in international law and appear often in
procedures for transitional justice. More recently, rape has joined the company
of crimes in many of these procedures—an important victory for the rights
of women. Injustices that do not involve mass atrocity, like deep economic
inequalities or the violation of civil rights, are often taken up as well in transi-
tional justice and the debates that surround it.
Human rights and the laws of war define what political injustices are, but
not the wide extent to which they wound their victims. What are the ways they
break right relationship and diminish human flourishing? Here arises the
first important form of multiplicity in the ethic: there are at least six forms of
wounds that political injustices leave behind, six respects in which political
injustices diminish the human flourishing of those who are involved in them.
This array of wounds depicts the complex social affliction that the ethic must
confront.
Human rights and the laws of war not only define what political injustices
are but depict the first and most fundamental respect in which these injustices
wound their victims. Because the status of a citizen as a subject of the rule and
a bearer of human rights is a fundamental dimension of right relationship in
the political order and, indeed, of human flourishing, the violation of this sta-
tus does egregious harm to the victim’s dignity.
Political injustices do far more than strip victims of their guaranteed rights.
A second dimension of woundedness is their harm to the victim’s very per-
son, her body and her soul. This dimension includes a whole range of harms,
including death; the loss of family and friends; permanent bodily impairment;
sexual violation; ongoing trauma and grief; humiliation; the loss of economic
livelihood; disrespect for one’s race, ethnicity, nationality, or gender; the taking
of the land of one’s community; and many other harms.
Compounding these harms themselves is victims’ frequent ignorance of
the source and circumstances of the political injustices inflicted on them—a
third dimension of woundedness. Relatives of the missing or the dead express
this injury most poignantly. “If they can just show us the bones of my child,
where did they leave the bones of my child?” the mother of a missing political
activist in South Africa exclaimed.4
The wound of ignorance is deepened further by a fourth dimension of
woundedness—the failure of fellow citizens to acknowledge victims’ suffering,
either through ignorance or indifference. South African political philosopher
André Du Toit wrote that “for the victims, this actually is a redoubling of the
basic violation: the literal violation consists of the actual pain, suffering and
trauma visited on them; the political violation consists in the refusal (publicly)
to acknowledge it.”5
A fifth dimension of woundedness pertains to the perpetrator. It may be
thought of as the “standing victory” of the message of injustice that the perpe-
trator communicated through his act. In addition to the material, psychologi-
cal, and spiritual harms that a perpetrator of political injustice leaves behind
is the undefeated triumph of the disregard for the victim’s dignity that defines
the act. This standing victory is itself a harm to the victim as well as an attack
on the shared values of a just political community.
The sixth dimension, also pertaining to the perpetrator, is the wound that
a political injustice inflicts on the perpetrator himself. That evil objectively
diminishes the soul of the wrongdoer, dissevering his acting self from his true
moral self, is an insight as old as Plato’s Gorgias and several religious tradi-
tions. Perpetrators psychologically and spiritually wounded in this way often
go on to commit further political injustices and contribute to undermining just

and stable political orders.
Each of these six dimensions of woundedness entails harms to human
flourishing that result directly from acts of political injustice. They may, then,
be called “primary wounds.” But wounds harm persons and relationships in
a further sense: by leading victims, perpetrators, and citizens at large to form
emotions—revenge, hatred, resentment, and the like—that in turn lead them
to make hostile judgments toward political orders and other members of them,
which then lead them to participate in and commit more war crimes, massa-
cres, torture, and acts of international aggression or simply refuse their assent
to nascent peace agreements or constitutional orders, thus depriving them of
much-needed legitimacy. These further deeds may be thought of as “second-
ary wounds.” Instances of them can be found anywhere that injustices of one
period have resulted in recurrent injustices or at least lasting enmity within
or between countries: Rwanda, Northern Ireland, Bosnia, Kosovo, the Basque
Country, Iraq, Israel and Palestine, Kashmir, Nanking, post-Versailles
Germany, and many others.6
Reconciliation as a Concept of Justice
Landscapes of woundedness have given rise to a range of ethical approaches to

redressing the past, among which reconciliation has as many critics as it does
proponents, who differ as much over its meaning as they do over its merits.
These divide broadly into advocates and nonadvocates, with each group having
its own variants.
Reconciliation, For and Against

Nonadvocates include both outright critics and simple avoiders of reconcili-
ation. Virtually all of them take as the central task in dealing with the past
the construction of constitutional liberal democracy: the rule of law, civil and
political rights, democratic institutions and elections, and stable, uncorrupted
courts. Some would add, variously, punishing criminals of the past regime or
the war and establishing popular legitimacy for the new regime, civic trust, a
healthy pattern of democratic deliberation, or some form of economic justice.
Generally, they reason much along the lines of the liberal peace described in
the introduction to this volume. Nonadvocates either ignore or criticize rec-
onciliation because they believe that it calls for something different than or
directly compromises constitutional liberal democracy. Among those who dis-
cuss reconciliation, some acknowledge it as a concept of justice, say, restorative
justice, but consider it the wrong concept. Others consider it not to be justice at
all but a set of healing practices that ought not to stand in the way of justice.
Critics of reconciliation offer several more specific objections. Some
perceive that reconciliation’s emphasis on harmony sacrifices some crucial
element of justice. Most often, they have in mind retributive justice, which they
believe to be sacrificed by forgiveness or by amnesties that are justified by argu-

ments for healing. For others, what is sacrificed is structural economic justice,
the reduction of gross inequalities that feed conflict.7 Critics also take reconcili-
ation to task for its soulcraft—its efforts to bring about changes in the heart in
ways that cross the line between what is properly public and private. In a simi-
lar spirit, some question the religious basis of reconciliation, doubting its place
within the liberal democratic institutions that are being constructed in so many
settings of peacebuilding.8 Others simply regard reconciliation as unrealistic,
setting forth utopian goals amidst the rubble of colossal social fracture.
Reconciliation’s advocates also make a great variety of arguments, differ-
ing mainly over reconciliation’s status as a concept of justice. One sort agrees
with those nonadvocates who argue that reconciliation is not a concept of jus-
tice but a set of healing practices, including forgiveness, trauma recovery, and
the embrace of friendship. For them, these practices are to be favored, either
as a complement to justice or as a second-best substitute when prosecution is
too costly. Some advocates of South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commis-
sion (TRC), for instance, took this second-best approach in arguing that ideally
apartheid officials would be prosecuted, but given the need for healing and
stability, an amnesty that was conditional on a restorative public truth telling
could be allowed.9 Such arguments can be heard from a variety of quarters,
sometimes taking a pragmatic form, sometimes smacking of exoneration of
the status quo. In 1992, for instance, President Alfredo Cristiani of El Salvador
offered amnesty to military generals and death squad leaders during the coun-
try’s civil war with the argument that the moment was one for reconciliation;
after World War II, some conservative Germans used the language of reconcili-
ation in advocating a halt in the prosecution of Nazis.
Other advocates of reconciliation see it not as a complement to justice,
an alternative to justice, or as something to be balanced against justice, but as
itself a concept of justice. What some of these advocates mean by reconciliation
turns out to be almost identical to the justice that nonadvocates seek. David
Crocker, for instance, advocates a “thin” form of reconciliation that reaches
beyond “nonlethal coexistence” to a “democratic reciprocity” involving mutu-
ally recognized rights and responsibilities within constitutional liberal democ-
racy.10 Others, though, view reconciliation as a fuller, more distinct concept of
justice. Probably the most prominent of these views it as restorative justice, a
concept that calls for the restoration of relationships among the many dimen-
sions in which injustice severs them and among the many parties who were
involved in the severance. Archbishop Desmond Tutu, for instance, argued for
restorative justice in South Africa, placing special emphasis on forgiveness.11
An Ethic of Restorative Justice
The ethic of reconciliation defended here is one of restorative justice. To many

modern Western ears, it will seem strange to call reconciliation a concept of jus-
tice at all. Justice is rather what the liberal tradition of John Locke, Immanuel
RECONCILIATION: AN ETHIC FOR PEACEBUILDING 97
Kant, and their legatees thought it was, involving human rights, democracy,
constitutional government, and some notion of just punishment, either along
retributivist or consequentialist lines, or else what the utilitarian tradition of
Jeremy Bentham, John Stuart Mill, and their progeny thought it was, entailing
those institutions that maximize happiness, usually thought to be liberal and
democratic.12 But restorative justice is indeed justice. As will be explained fur-
ther, it can be found in the Jewish, Christian, and Islamic traditions, though it
has contemporary secular proponents as well. At least if it is interpreted broadly
enough, it fulfills the Roman jurist Ulpian’s classical definition of justice: the
will to render everyone his or her due. To modern Western ears, due may con-
note only desert or entitlement—punishment for crimes, restitution for harm,
and rights for all. But restorative justice conceives due more widely as that
which restores people to human fulfillment and right relationship in the politi-
cal order following political injustices.
The concept of restorative justice first gained currency in the thought and
practice of criminal justice in New Zealand and the United States, particularly
at the level of local communities. Intellectuals associated with Chile’s truth
commission and then, far more famously, Archbishop Tutu of South Africa’s
TRC, applied the concept to whole political orders. Though its proponents, like
reconciliation’s proponents, do not all agree on what it means, they generally
converge on some common themes: crime is primarily a rupture of relationship
between offender and victim and between victim and community; response to
crime ought to be oriented toward repairing these relationships and the dimen-
sions of injury and harm they leave behind; and such repair ought to involve
the active participation of victims, offenders, and members of the community
through dialogue, narrative, and negotiation.13
As an expression of an ethic of political reconciliation, restorative justice
invokes peacebuilding’s multiplicity: responding to the many wounds and
ruptures, primary and secondary, that political injustice causes, it proposes
a matching multiplicity of practices. Each of the practices—and again, there
are six, including building just institutions, acknowledgment, reparations,
accountability, apology, and forgiveness—in a unique way aims to transform
the wounds that political injustices have inflicted to a state of comparatively
greater human flourishing.
The first justification of the six practices is simply the intrinsic value of
these restorations. Because they aim to restore the primary wounds that the
political injustices caused, they may be called “primary restorations.” When a
prime minister or president issues an apology to victims on behalf of an entire
political community, he confers recognition on these victims, helps defeat the
standing victory of the injustices that agents of the state committed on behalf
of the political order, and beckons the members of his state to join their own
voices to further these ends. When a truth commission confers acknowledg-
ment on victims, it also provides them with recognition, publicly proclaims
their restored citizenship, perhaps reveals information about the circum-
stances of their suffering, and at times encourages or pressures perpetrators to
express public contrition for their crimes. The other practices—accountability,
reparations, forgiveness, and building just institutions—help restore victims

and their wounds in other unique ways.
Just as acts of violence also produce secondary wounds—emotions, then
judgments, then further acts of injustice—so the practices of reconciliation
can also bring about “secondary restorations,” that is, transformations of judg-
ments about the character of the political community. These take the form of
assent to a peace settlement or a new regime as legitimate, a renewed identifi-
cation with the national community, an increase in trust toward fellow citizens,
and willingness to engage in democratic deliberation. The acknowledgment
conferred by truth commissions, the restoration of basic rights entailed in the
creation of reasonably just institutions, the defeat of the message of injustice
conferred by apology of punishment—all of these actions help bring about sec-
ondary restorations.
Summed up and defined, the ethic of reconciliation is as follows. As a con-
cept of justice, political reconciliation entails the will to restore the spectrum
of six wounds that political injustices cause and the full array of parties that
political injustices involve—victims, offenders, members of the community,
and the state—to a state of right relationship in the political order. It comprises
six practices that aim to restore each party in the distinct respect in which the
injustice wounded it. Cumulatively, political reconciliation seeks to restore an
entire political community or a relationship between political communities to a
condition of respected citizenship, rule of law, legitimacy, and trust.
The central virtue of an ethic of reconciliation is mercy. This also may
seem strange in modern Western parlance, where mercy most often means “to
let someone off the hook” by canceling the punishment that he or she justly
deserves, and is thus in deep tension with justice. But an ethic of reconciliation
draws on an older understanding of mercy, which is something much wider.
In his Dependent Rational Animals, philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre draws from
Thomas Aquinas in defining mercy, or misericordia, as the virtue by which one
feels grief or sorrow over someone else’s distress.14 Here, mercy is similar,
though it might also include sympathy toward a person who is suffering in any
way, including a way that arises from his or her own fault.15 The practices of
political reconciliation are all ones of mercy, the good that is internal to them
being restoration of persons and relationships. Perhaps surprisingly, this is
true even for accountability and punishment. The concept of restorative pun-
ishment for which I argue can indeed be understood as a manifestation of rec-
onciliation, informed by mercy. Mercy, in this understanding, then, is closely
convergent with justice—the justice that restores people and relationships.
The Role of Religion
These foundational concepts for an ethic of reconciliation find some of their

strongest articulations in religious faiths. For adherents of these faiths, this
fact is of straightforward importance: reconciliation finds support in their own
deepest convictions. It is important, too, for peacebuilding processes around
the world, to which religious leaders and communities have served as strong
contributors through their unique moral authority and influence.16 They
have been instrumental in the downfall of authoritarian regimes in numer-
ous locales, including Poland, Lithuania, Ukraine, the Philippines, Indonesia,
Turkey, Kenya, South Africa, Chile, and Brazil. They have mediated settlements
of civil war in El Salvador, Nicaragua, Guatemala, East Timor, Uganda, Liberia,
and Mozambique, and the departure of dictatorships or occupations in East
Germany and East Timor. Religious leaders and communities were instrumen-
tal in forming and conducting truth commissions in Guatemala, Brazil, Chile,
South Africa, Sierra Leone, East Timor, Peru, and East Germany.17 To be sure,
in other cases, religious communities exercised little influence or were coun-
terproductive in peacebuilding. In Argentina, in contrast to Brazil and Chile,
the Catholic Church supported a military dictatorship and its crimes during the
civil war from 1976 to 1983. In Sri Lanka, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Bulgaria,
Greece, Romania, Russia, Cameroon, Burma, and elsewhere, religious actors
did little to oppose authoritarianism. In Rwanda, churches were even acqui-
escent and sometimes supportive of the 1994 genocide, though in its after-
math some of them have carried out reconciliation work within civil society.
Generally, those religious communities that contributed to peacebuilding most
effectively, whether through mediation, nonviolent opposition to dictatorship,
transitional justice institutions, or civil society efforts were those that practiced
the highest degree of institutional autonomy from dictatorships and carried
liberal democratic doctrines of justice and, often, a concept of reconciliation.18
Some religious traditions also bring to peacebuilding the foundations for
an ethic of reconciliation—especially its core ideas of restorative justice and
mercy—rooted in their scriptures, rituals, and, most of all, theology. Familiar-
ity and space constraints confine the present analysis to Judaism, Christianity,
and Islam. This is not to deny the resources for reconciliation that other tradi-
tions offer. Rich resources can be found in certain tribal traditions in North
America, New Zealand, Australia, and Africa, for instance. Conversely, even
in the Abrahamic traditions, not all theologians conceive of reconciliation as a
concept of justice for political orders. Indeed, such an understanding has only
emerged in any of these faiths in the past few decades. Still, these three faiths
offer a grounding for restorative justice and mercy that at least some of their
proponents see as the basis for an ethic of political reconciliation.
In the Jewish scriptures, the Hebrew words that translate to justice in Eng-
lish are the same words that translate into righteousness (sedeq and mishpat),
the condition of the people of Israel living in comprehensive right relationship
according to the covenant God made with them. This state of right relationship
is also closely related to shalom, the Jewish concept of peace, a thoroughgoing
condition of right relationship. Lederach and Appleby’s concept of justpeace is
indeed much like shalom. Following their disobedience to the covenant, God
is willing to restore the people of Israel on their repentance and true conver-
sion. This willingness flows from hesed, or covenant love, the Hebrew word that
is translated to “mercy.” Generally, mercy amounts to God’s help for the dis-
tressed, those who suffer from both misfortune and sin. The Jewish scriptures
also recount God’s punishment for sin and call for punishment of crime on
the civil level. It is in God’s generations-long relationship with the corporate
people of Israel, whom he continues to restore and whom he refrains from
punishing measure for measure, that mercy is most salient. Between people,
reconciliation’s logic of restoration and mercy is manifested in the Jewish tradi-
tion through teshuva, a set of practices involving restitution, remorse, confes-
sion, and a commitment to change.19
In the New Testament, God’s merciful covenant love is extended through
his self-revelation and atoning work in Jesus Christ. Over the centuries, theolo-
gians have understood atonement through a variety of metaphors and empha-
ses, most of which stress restoration in one way or another: victory over sin,
release from captivity, solidarity with victims. Only “penal substitution” theo-
ries of certain strands of the Protestant Reformation tend to view atonement
as a payment of debt that involves no transformation. In the New Testament,
particularly the letters of Paul, justice is also understood as living in right
relationship. Atonement restores right relationship for wrongdoers, victims,
and, indeed, all of creation. Here, too, this will to restore is the meaning of
mercy. Like the Old Testament, the New Testament affirms the possibility of
divine punishment as well as the justice of civil punishment. But it places com-
paratively more central emphasis on forgiveness as an ethic for relationships
between people.
In the New Testament, the Greek words translated to “reconciliation” are
found—katallage and katallosso—appearing there fifteen times, twelve of these
in the letters of Paul. Its meaning is either the process of restoration of right
relationship or the condition of right relationship that results from this resto-
ration.20 Because right relationship, or comprehensive righteousness, is the
meaning of justice in the Scriptures, it follows that reconciliation can just as
well mean the restoration of justice or a resulting state of justice. In this sense,
it can be said that reconciliation is a concept of justice.
Although the meanings of justice, peace, reconciliation, and mercy in
Islam are not precisely equivalent to those in the Jewish scriptures or the New
Testament, they converge closely with their meanings in the present ethic of
reconciliation. The Qur’an’s words for justice, ‘adl and qist, with some interpre-
tive effort, can be understood as comprehensive right relationship.21 As for rec-
onciliation, the Arabic sulh refers to a restoration of right relationship between
two or more parties who have been at odds, whereas a related word, musalaha,
translates more directly to reconciliation and connotes comprehensiveness. The
Arabic word for peace, salam, is closely related, both linguistically and in mean-
ing, to the Jewish shalom, and describes a broad state of harmony. The Arabic
words for mercy, rahma, rahim, and rahamin, denote a wide notion of compas-
sion, a general will to restore.22 Mercy is indeed the first of ninety-nine names
accorded to Allah. Although the Qur’an contains no concept of original sin or
divine atonement, it repeatedly describes Allah as forgiving the repentant and
calls for forgiveness between people, always with restoration of relationship
as the goal.23 A notion of restorative justice can be found in at least some por-
tions of Islamic criminal law as well.24 Like the Jewish and Christian scriptures,
the Qur’an also depicts God as exercising punishment and allows (but does
not always require) retribution in human affairs. Traditional Arab Islamic
cultures have developed elaborate rituals of sulh (settlement) and musalaha
(reconciliation) that bring about reconciliation between estranged peoples
through apology, confession, remorse, restitution, and forgiveness.25
Such brief characterizations can hardly plumb the depth, subtlety, simi-
larities, and differences of these traditions. Some scholars have argued, for
instance, that Judaism and Islam call for restitution, punishment, apology, and
justice before forgiveness can take place, whereas Christianity envisions for-
giveness taking place initially or unilaterally. Theologians within each tradition
in fact disagree among themselves over these relative emphases, many of them
arguing so as to minimize the differences. One problem, attendant on the rela-
tively recent entry of theologies of reconciliation in the political realm, is yet
unsolved in all three traditions: the relationship between forgiveness and pun-
ishment in politics. Still, the notions of justice, peace, mercy, and reconciliation
and the depiction of God’s response to evil and injustice in the three traditions
yield the building blocks of an ethic of political reconciliation.
To some skeptics, though, theological concepts and language ought not to
be involved in politics at all. Their argument comes from the tradition of liberal
political philosophy, though even there it is quite recent, voiced most promi-
nently by John Rawls, who argues for a concept of “public reason” that requires
political discourse to be secular.26 Liberal commentators, for instance, criticized
Archbishop Tutu for his overt use of Christian language and ritual in chairing
South Africa’s TRC.27 Reconciliation, though, is not always practiced in set-
tings of constitutional liberal democracy. Truth commissions have now taken
place in Morocco, a predominantly Islamic state, as well as in Sierra Leone,
which is 60 percent Islam, and have been proposed in both Afghanistan and
Iraq. Here, the Western concept of separation between religion and politics is
untenable. It is important to remember that even Western European societies,
situated at secularization’s supposed ground zero, have established churches
or officially recognize certain religious bodies. The United States, where most
advocates of public reason live and write, in fact practices the highest degree of
constitutional separation of religion and state in the world.28 Numerous critics
of an argument for “religious restraint” have offered strong arguments for why,
even in liberal settings, religion ought not to be excluded from public debate.
Most centrally, the placing of epistemological or other substantive limits on lan-
guage, religious or secular, is incompatible with liberalism’s own commitments
to open debate, tolerance, free expression, and the benefits of argument.29
If religious language is not to be excluded in principle, there is still a good
reason that in certain settings—namely, in societies where practices for dealing
with the past take place among populations who are of different faiths or are
divided between religious and secular perspective—holders of religious con-
cepts ought to seek common terms with proponents of other religions and
of secular concepts. The reason lies in the benefits of consensus for the prac-
tice of reconciliation. Especially when peacebuilding deals with fundamental
matters of law, punishment, and constitutionalism, widespread popular assent
and legitimacy is crucial. This is not to be achieved through religious believ-

ers setting aside their commitments but by entering into dialogue with people
of other religious traditions as well as secular perspectives with the goal of
finding an “overlapping consensus” on basic principles of justice that can guide
the practices. The fact that the ethic here can be expressed in secular language
assists greatly in finding this consensus. For religious believers, this language
will not carry the full meaning and basis for the ethic, which they may still want
to articulate publicly. For the purpose of forging consensus, they are willing to
agree to use secular justifications as well.
A Political Ethic
Arguing also in the spirit of contemporary liberal political philosophy, some

skeptics will object that certain other elements of an ethic of reconciliation—
restoration, transformation of judgment, forgiveness, a virtue of mercy—cross
the boundary between what is properly public and private and that the state is
not competent to pursue them. True, the state need not be the only agent of
political reconciliation. Civil society actors, including religious communities
and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), bear unique restorative assets.
But the state has plenty of warrant to be involved. By definition, political injus-
tices are caused by agents acting in the name of the political order. What they
violate is the most fundamental rights of citizenship, those that any state has
the obligation to uphold. Because states speak in the name of the political order,
uphold the law, and promote justice, they are not only warranted but obligated
to repair (insofar as they can) the range of wounds that result from political
injustices. There is a further basis for the state’s role: insofar as wounds result
in political judgments that erode citizens’ faith in institutions and can lead
them to armed opposition, constitutional liberal democratic states have an
interest in the practices that transform these judgments into ones that create
legitimacy, trust, and assent.
Political reconciliation, though, is also bounded. To be sure, it commingles
the thick and the thin, the political and the personal, but in several impor-
tant respects it honors the boundaries of the political. In liberal polities, these
boundaries will include the full range of liberal freedoms. Of course, politi-
cal reconciliation is not only to be practiced in liberal democracies but might
take place in a traditional Muslim society, for instance—though the ethic here
always insists on basic human rights and respect for the laws of war as articu-
lated in international law. Wherever it is practiced, though, political reconcilia-
tion ought to respect limits of three sorts, I argue.
First, the state that practices political reconciliation deals only with those
wounds that result from political injustices. Although it may deal with these
in their several dimensions, it does not seek to restore those relationships,
whether they exist between family members, neighbors, or townspeople, that
have been fractured by some other event, even one that is somehow related to
the war or the injustices of the regime. It does not seek to restore relationships
in respects other than mutual citizenship. Behind these limits lie the intrinsic
connection between the state and the law. All political injustices violate some
sort of law—if not always the explicit laws of a regime, at least the international
law that governs war and human rights. Because laws are those norms that the
state expresses as the community’s morality and backs up with its sanction-
ing power, the state has a unique mandate to deal with their violation—but no
mandate to deal with ruptures other than their violation.
A second set of limits also involves the law. They are the constraints posed
by the entire body of laws, rights, and procedures embodied in the constitution
of the state where political reconciliation is being practiced. The practice of
accountability, for instance, whether it involves trials, vetting, or other forms of
public censure, must always respect the due process rights of alleged perpetra-
tors. All practices of political reconciliation also ought to respect the complete
rights of citizens as well as the boundaries between religion and state as a given
constitution prescribes these. Political reconciliation respects laws both because
the rule of law is one of its background commitments and because one of its
key goals is to restore and strengthen the rule of law to communities where it is
lacking or weak. So, then, it must respect those laws where they exist.
A third, distinct (but closely related) set of limits pertains to the competence
of the state given the sort of organization it is—large, collective, and public. Not
only should the state respect the spheres of protection that its constitution estab-
lishes, it should refrain from attempting to perform transformations it cannot
competently effect. Constraints, then, arise to govern each of the practices. The
state may significantly restore victims’ dignity by publicly acknowledging their
suffering, but it cannot provide them with long-term therapy (though it might
well provide the resources for it as reparations). It may commend to its people
practices that seek emotional transformation like acknowledgment, apology,
and forgiveness and even carry them out collectively in the people’s name, but
it should always leave them as voluntary for individuals themselves to practice.
It cannot begin to understand the range of inner influences, for instance, that
lead a person to determine whether, when, or how to forgive, and so must
respect one’s freedom to decide this. None of these constraints emerge from
a strong separation between the public and the private but from reflection on
what sort of actions the state does and does not perform well.
Such borders, boundaries, lines, and spheres demarcate the contours of
where an ethic of political reconciliation may be practiced. It respects the rule
of law, basic human rights, and the just constitutional provisions of the country
in which it operates, as well as spheres where individual freedom ought to be
respected. None of these boundaries choke off the practices. Even within its
proper contours, each may exert significant political sway.
One other form of limit to political reconciliation is worth stressing, also in
response to an important criticism: its typical partial fulfillment. Some of the
six practices will take place in some places but not others. In any given country,
some of the practices (but not others) will take place. Sometimes this selectiv-
ity will create skewed justice, as when acknowledgment and forgiveness occur
without accountability for wrongdoers. Often, this selectivity arises from power
differentials among parties in the negotiations of transitions. When perpetra-

tors of political injustices continue to hold power after peace settlements, for
instance, they prevent their own prosecution.30 Sometimes the practices occur
but are flawed: lustration procedures, for instance, may occur without fairness
or due process. For all of this partiality, though, all six practices do occur, some
of them on a global scale. The fact that they are partial does not rob them
of their moral validity; rather, it means that they fall short of their full moral
potential. Indeed, it is the combination of their occurrence, their inner moral
logic, and their flawed practice that beg the need for an ethic of reconciliation.
The Six Practices
Reconciliation as a conception of justice is enacted in the political order

through the six practices. The practices are a bridge from the abstract to the
particular; they are the concrete activities that bring reconciliation about.31 Each
practice in some way moves some set of parties from one or another dimension
of woundedness to a condition where they are more restored than they were
before. Cumulatively, they may help an entire society be more restored than it
was before. Each is a particular kind of activity—acknowledging, forgiving, and
so on—that achieves this good in a different respect, corresponding to the par-
ties involved and the forms of wounds it seeks to repair. Each is then subject to
a corresponding set of ethical standards that explain how, by whom, and under
what circumstances the activity may be conducted justly.
Like the wounds of injustice, the practices are multiple and interdepend-
ent. Though they virtually always remain partially fulfilled and are frequently
subject to political compromises, they are complementary to one another and
together model the holism of strategic peacebuilding. Each of them restores
relationships in some irreplaceable way. The interdependent character of the
practices also gives rise to ethical dilemmas. If political realities force a society
to choose one against the other, which one ought to be dropped? Here, these
dilemmas cannot be addressed in detail. What is offered is rather a broad out-
line of the practices, showing the institutions and procedures through which
they are enacted, how they purport to restore wounds of injustice, and the kinds
of moral criteria that pertain to them.
Building Just Institutions

Recall that human rights and the laws of war perform a double duty in the
ethic. They both define a political injustice as well as describe the good whose
absence is the first form of woundedness that political injustices inflict. Among
the practices, building just institutions plays a similar role. Political societies
based on human rights, democracy, the rule of law, and just economic institu-
tions; relationships between political societies that are based on international
law and the laws of war; and finally, the legitimacy of these laws and insti-
tutions—meaning assent to them through the judgments of those who live
under them32—are the very goals of political reconciliation. These same laws,
institutions, and judgments also perform a restorative act insofar as the lack of
legal guarantee for human rights, rights under the laws of war, and the like is
a form of woundedness, a failure of human flourishing. Though building just
institutions may not come readily to mind as a practice that seeks to remedy
past injustices—reparations, forgiveness, and trials do so more obviously—
in fact, they transform injustice by supplying something that was egregiously
absent. Because the practice of building just and legitimate institutions is also
the fundamental goal of reconciliation, it is the most basic of the six practices
and a practice against which the other practices ought not to be compromised
or traded off.
This has an important implication for political reconciliation—namely, that
reconciliation is not true reconciliation if it is not based on justice and should
not be mistaken for the irenicism of a peace agreement that fails to ensure
fundamental elements of justice like basic human rights, including those of
minorities. Dictators must be defeated; shalom, sedeq, positive peace, justpeace
must be established. In some settings, reconciliation has indeed come under
heavy fire for short-circuiting justice. One example comes from the struggle
against apartheid in South Africa. Noting the prevalence of reconciliation in the
language of fellow church leaders and activists, in 1986 a group of black theo-
logians penned what is known as the Kairos Document, where they stressed
that reconciliation and recognition of the enemy’s humanity must not mean
compromise in the struggle for justice: apartheid must end. Militant liberation-
ists in Kashmir criticize reconciliation as the Indian government’s rhetorical
strategy for defending the status quo. Similar examples can be adduced from
all over the world. The present ethic accordingly permits a just war, whether it
takes the form of a defense against outside aggression, humanitarian interven-
tion, a revolution, or a self-determination movement. But resorting to the use
of force must itself be just. The criteria embedded in the just war tradition sup-
ply the ethic of reconciliation with a compelling framework for assessing this
justice, although there is not space here to defend these criteria philosophically,
resolve internal disputes within the tradition, or apply it to new problems.33
There is also an important sense in which nonviolent resistance movements,
when they have a “reasonable chance of success,” to borrow one criterion of
the just war tradition, offer a mode of struggle against injustice that embodies
the spirit of reconciliation. As articulated by theorists and practitioners like
Martin Luther King Jr. and Mahatma Gandhi, such movements actively oppose
injustice even while inviting enemies to turn away from injustice (apology) and
bringing attention to the injustices of oppressive rule (acknowledgment), thus
modeling the holistic character of the ethic. The efficacy of such movements
should not be underestimated. A recent report from Freedom House describes
some sixty successful “people power” movements for democratization in the
past generation.34
Another controversy arising from the practice of building just institutions
is the place of economic justice in reconciliation. Again, reconciliation has
been criticized for going without it: The South African TRC may have been a
model of forbearance toward enemies, runs the argument, but it did nothing to
address the economic injustices underpinning apartheid. Truth and reconcili-
ation in El Salvador and Guatemala did nothing to bring about land reform.
An important truth lies behind the criticisms. The economic dimension to jus-
tice is essential both in an intrinsic sense and because of its importance for
legitimacy. But putting economic justice into practice runs into two problems.
First, exactly what “economic justice” means is subject to far more dispute in
the world than what “human rights” means. Even in the liberal tradition, of
which human rights are a cornerstone, disagreements over the content of a just
distribution are legion. Certain economic rights like subsistence and minimal
standards of labor may be widely agreed on as basic, but the broader question
of distribution remains open. Second, even if agreement on a just distribu-
tion could be attained, the best policies for bringing it about are also hotly
disputed. The role and strategy of international financial institutions is notori-
ously controversial. Unclear, too, is what degree of effective economic reform
can be demanded within the time frame of a peace agreement. Such reform
may rather be a long-term proposition. None of this is to dismiss the impor-
tance of economic justice, but only to underline the need for further reasoning
about its meaning and its pursuit.
Of all the practices in the ethic, building just institutions is the one that
most converges with the commitments of the liberal tradition. Human rights,
the rule of law, and the components of a just war are also endorsed widely in
contemporary Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. Each tradition contains dis-
putes over the justification, content, and extent of rights as well as opponents of
rights altogether. Especially the most basic human rights and laws of war enjoy
an impressive global overlapping consensus.
Acknowledgment
Restoring the wounds of injustice involves far more than restoring rights or
even administering just punishment. The failure of the political community—
the state and the citizens for whom it speaks—to recognize victims’ suffering
and victims’ own ignorance of the circumstances that brought it about must
be addressed as well, for not only are these direct forms of woundedness but
also sources of secondary wounds—alienation from and hostility to new politi-
cal orders and peace agreements. Through the practice of acknowledgment,
communities recognize victims’ suffering, the intrinsic injustice in this suf-
fering, and the victims’ rights of citizenship; they confer on victims empathy
and knowledge of the circumstances of the injustice; and by calling an injus-
tice an injustice they help defeat the standing victory of the perpetrator’s mes-
sage. Acknowledgment is more than knowledge: it confers a public recognition
of injustice that was committed in the name of the political order.35 Alone, it
rarely brings about the long-term healing of the victim, but it performs the
important public, political dimension of it.
Several kinds of public forums have performed acknowledgment in the
past generation. The most prominent and thorough is the truth commission,
over thirty of which have occurred around the world. Appointed by a govern-
ment, the purpose of a truth commission is to bring to light a reliable record
of human rights violations during a particular period. Though virtually all
commissions produce an official report at the end of their labors, they vary in
the method through which they discover the truth about the past: some involve
public hearings, some of which are televised; some involve extensive subpoena
powers; some offer amnesties; and others vary with respect to these and other
features. Public acknowledgment can take other forms as well, including
museums, monuments, rewriting school textbooks, and other forms of com-
memoration.
True to the interdependent character of an ethic of political reconciliation,
acknowledgment often yields fruit for other practices as well as secondary res-
torations—changes in judgments regarding the political order. Descriptions
of truth commissions from South Africa to El Salvador have recounted stories
of victims forgoing demands for revenge and retribution after being publicly
acknowledged at a hearing. Through telling the truth about past injustices
publicly, acknowledgment helps delegitimate these injustices and establish the
legitimacy of new regimes. Sometimes, the information that a truth commis-
sion discovers then aids in both trials and determinations of reparations. Truth
commissions have also elicited contrition and apology from perpetrators.
Criticisms and controversies surround all forms of public acknowledg-
ment. They are taken to task for lacking balance, focusing on the misdeeds
of one side disproportionately to another, or imposing a version of the truth
that suits one side. Museums and monuments rarely escape criticism from
those discontented with their portrayal of victims and perpetrators. Then, does
acknowledgment truly restore? Or does it just open the wounds and reinflame
agonistic emotions? Some critics have taken truth commissions to task for med-
dling in matters of the heart rather than sticking to gathering information.
Again, space is too limited here to cover all such controversies. But one vir-
tue of acknowledgment can be noted: personalism. Acknowledgment restores
best when the recognition that it confers is most direct, personal, and empa-
thetic. Guatemala’s Recovery of Historical Memory Project (REMHI), a truth
commission created and carried out by the Catholic Church, manifested per-
sonalism in its effort to send trained volunteers, or animadores, to rural villages
where they took the testimony of victims in a manner that was psychologi-
cally, emotionally, and spiritually supportive, not merely effective in eliciting
information.36 Personalism is also increased when the work of a truth com-
mission is conducted in local forums that allow direct citizen participation.
The community panels of East Timor’s Commission on Reception, Truth, and
Reconciliation took place in villages, for instance. Here, the restorative work
that acknowledgment accomplishes can be done best.
Reparations
Like acknowledgment, reparations confer public recognition on victims. Unlike
acknowledgment, they take a material form: cash payments, health services, and
the like, which are geared toward alleviating or compensating victims for the
harm they have suffered, both physical and mental. This harm, of course,
can never be reversed, particularly when it takes the form of the death of
relatives or long-term injury. But it can be addressed through public meas-
ures. Reparations are usually conferred by a national court or a special body
appointed by a national government, but sometimes also by an international
court. Like truth commissions, reparations have become more common in
the past generation.
Some view reparations as fulfilling a straightforward obligation on the
part of the political community to compensate property and goods that were
lost due to political injustices. Though sometimes such compensation can be
determined easily, claims can also be bewilderingly complex, especially when
properties have changed hands since the original seizure, as in postcommunist
Eastern Europe or postgenocide Rwanda, or still more when claims are made
by descendants of victims long dead. Here, as Jeremy Waldron has argued,
compensation is virtually impossible to assess.37 Still worse, it is also notori-
ously difficult to place a monetary value on forms of harms like the loss of
relatives.
A different way of viewing the argument for reparations, though, can avoid
becoming immersed, at least to some extent, in complex determinations of
amounts. In what can be called the symbolic expression argument, reparations
perform much the same communication as acknowledgment does, with their
material dimension giving this communication all the more force. A soft pro-
portionalism, by which greater harms result in greater reparations, still applies,
but the question of exact compensation is not as important.
Reparations may well depend for their success on other practices comple-
menting them, again evoking the ethic’s holism. Some common objections to
reparations are that they amount to “blood money,” money that appears to pay
off victims so that they drop further demands; that they equate the injustice
victims suffered with financial goods; or even that they buy victims’ silence.
Reparations best overcome these objections and attain their greatest legiti-
macy when acknowledgment or apologies accompany them, expressing public
recognition and remorse for the political injustices. A crucial factor in achiev-
ing a deal on reparations between the German government and survivors of
forced labor during the Holocaust, for instance, was a public apology in 2000
from German President Johannes Rau to living victims and the German gov-
ernment’s agreement to implement a school curriculum that would sustain
memory of the Holocaust well into the future.38 The complementarity of other
practices enable the moral success of reparations.
Punishment
A practice of punishment in an ethic of reconciliation? It will seem a strange
fixture to followers of global debates over transitional justice that so often pit
reconciliation, mercy, forgiveness, and restorative justice against punishment,
retribution, and imprisonment. Often, those who share the core commitments
of the liberal peace take the side of punishment in these disputes, with advocates
of reconciliation responding with comparative leniency. Prosecuting human
rights violators and war criminals is at the center of transitional justice for
members of the human rights community, who generally articulate either one
or a combination of two justifications of punishment that have pervaded the
liberal tradition since the Enlightenment. Retributivists hold—broadly speak-
ing, with variations39—that criminals ought to be punished simply because
they deserve it. Consequentialists focus on the effects of punishment, argu-
ing in this context that accountability is necessary for the legitimacy of a new
regime based on human rights and democracy.
A contrasting ethic of reconciliation need not reject punishment. A ration-
ale for punishment exists that is quite compatible with the logic of the ethic and
affirms some elements of both retributivism and consequentialism, but also
differs importantly from both. Its logic can be articulated through the Abra-
hamic religious traditions and is found in certain contemporary philosophers.
Theologian Christopher B. Marshall has called it “restorative punishment.”40
Desert, proportionality, due process of law—restorative punishment shares all
of these elements of retributivism. But its central rationale for punishment is
different—the restoration of persons, relationships, political communities, and
relationships between political communities. Punishment, like the other prac-
tices in the ethic, is a political community’s communication: one that expresses
censure to the wrongdoer for violating the values of a just political commu-
nity; that delegitimates the message of injustice entailed in his crimes; that
invites him to repent, express contrition, and join the community again; and
that recognizes the dignity of the victim. Hardship, including imprisonment,
is not forgone. It is part and parcel of communicating the gravity of the offense
and can serve as a material expression of penance on the part of the criminal.
Punishment might also deter future crimes, contribute to a new regime’s legiti-
macy, and immobilize dangerous criminals—restorative punishment shares
these aims with consequentialism. The validity of punishment does not depend
on such outcomes, nor on the perpetrator’s reform. It is sufficient that it is a
communication of censure that strengthens the community’s values, invites
perpetrators to contrition and reform, and honors the dignity of the victim.
Such a logic of restorative justice, Marshall explains, can be discovered through
an interpretation of the Jewish and Christian scriptures. Other scholars have
made the case for a similar rationale in the Qur’an.41
What does restorative punishment mean for political orders addressing
past injustices? At the level of states and relationships between them, restora-
tive punishment favors those measures that accomplish a range of restora-
tions, including reintegrating perpetrators into the community and bringing
victims and citizens into the process, and that act complementarily to the other
practices in an ethic of political reconciliation. For the masterminds of major
atrocities and even the willful murderer, torturer, or rapist, whose culpability
is not diminished on account of his own duress or some other factor, arguably
only long-term imprisonment can communicate the gravity of the offense. If
justified restoratively, the verdicts of the International Criminal Court can be
compatible with an ethic of political reconciliation. For a wide range of lesser

crimes and criminals, other forms of punishment (or some combination of
them) can restore a broader spectrum of wounds. Public forums like truth
commissions have a punitive function insofar as they bring public shame and
censure onto a perpetrator; they also, at least when these forums take a certain
form, play a restorative function in that they allow victims to confront perpetra-
tors with their stories of suffering and allow perpetrators, should they choose,
to show remorse directly. Such an event is not unheard of. The South African
TRC saw several cases of hardened human rights violators coming to show
remorse for their deeds in the context of commission hearings. Truth com-
missions at the village level, like those that took place in East Timor, increase
the local and personalist character of the meeting between victims and perpe-
trators while administering integrative punishments like community service.
Still other countries have turned to schemes of vetting, or “lustration,” as it
was called in the Czech Republic, that bar human rights violators from hold-
ing public office. Combinations of punishments are possible, too. East Timor,
Sierra Leone, and Germany, for instance, staged hybrids of trials and truth
commissions.
Blanket amnesties are incompatible with restorative punishment. When
political realities force them, amnesties may be necessary, but they are always
less than just. The South African TRC offered perpetrators, even of atrocities,
amnesty in exchange for public testimony, a deal that created space for other
practices like acknowledgment and sometimes apology and forgiveness to occur.
But unequivocally, justice—the justice that restorative punishment enacts—
was sacrificed. Generally, a presumption for accountability ought to apply. A
peace agreement or a regime transition may demand forgoing prosecution at
the moment, but it need not prevent it from ever occurring. In both Chile and
Argentina, for instance, amnesties granted or upheld amidst a transition from
dictatorship to democracy were later chipped away by human rights lawyers.
Other issues are relevant to restorative punishment as well—due process,
questions of culpability, the problem of prosecuting human rights violations
that were not illegal under the law of the regime where they were commit-
ted, and the challenges of carrying out punishment in countries where judicial
institutions are rudimentary or broken down. All must be incorporated into a
full-blown theory of restorative punishment.
Apology
Public apologies, like reparations and truth commissions, are another practice
that has become more common over the past generation. Sometimes individ-
ual perpetrators express it; sometimes heads of states or other political leaders
express it in the name of the collectivity that they lead. Political scientist Barry
O’Neill assembled a database of 121 apology incidents occurring between 1980
and 1995 in the setting of relations between states.42
An apology is a restorative communication in several respects. Through
it, perpetrators express contrition and assume responsibility for their deeds.
In doing so, they rejects the message of injustice and domination communi-
cated through their act of political violence and will the restoration both of their
own soul and of the victims, who continue to be diminished by their message
of injustice. Apology does not nullify deserved punishment; when expressed in
conjunction with punishment, it effectively answers the community’s censure
and bolsters its just values. Apology also invites the victim to forgive, thus beget-
ting a separate restorative practice. In all of the Abrahamic faiths, contrition on
the part of the sinner is a vital step in being restored and forgiven by God.
When apology is practiced by the head of a collectivity, it raises further
ethical issues. For instance, can a group like a state, a nation, or a military unit
commit evil? Or can only individuals do so? If groups cannot precisely commit
evil, people acting in the name of the group—wearing its uniform, acting in
the capacity of an employee or otherwise an agent—whether they are leaders
or subordinates, certainly can. When they do, the responsibility for the evil
becomes in part collective, even while the individual’s responsibility remains
intact. So, too, leaders can apologize for the evil committed in the name of
their group, or at least the collective dimension of that evil. Because that col-
lective dimension lives on beyond the individual perpetrators, a subsequent
leader can apologize for past evil as well. What leaders cannot do, though, is
supplant the perpetrators’ obligation to apologize for their own role in the deed
or the prerogative of citizens or other group members to endorse or refuse
that apology. These individuals, after all, may have refused to cooperate with
the evil, avoided it, or may simply refuse contrition for one reason or another.
There are proper roles, then, for both leaders and individual group members
in apologizing.43
Forgiveness
The practice of forgiveness in political settings has also become more common
in the past generation, though its recorded instances are far rarer than the
other practices. South African President Nelson Mandela is perhaps the only
head of state to have practiced it.44 Other presidents and prime ministers—
President Patricio Aylwin of Chile, for instance—have commended forgiveness
to their citizens. Civil society leaders, especially religious leaders, have encour-
aged citizens to practice forgiveness far more often. It is difficult to say just
how often victims themselves have practiced forgiveness. The best available
indicator is a proxy—a discourse of forgiveness, as was present in South Africa,
Northern Ireland, Poland, East Timor, Chile, El Salvador, Guatemala, Rwanda,
Sierra Leone, Bosnia, and Germany.
Of the six practices, forgiveness is the one that most falls outside the liberal
peace paradigm and is most distinctively characteristic of religious traditions.
Even in these traditions, though, its pedigree in politics is not very long. Only
in the past generation or so has political forgiveness gained entrance into the
social teachings of the Abrahamic faiths.45
Forgiveness is also the most harshly criticized of the six practices, often
at the hands of Western liberals, who charge it with disrespecting victims,
robbing victims of their autonomy, risking wounding victims further, condon-

ing evil, nullifying just retribution, failing to take seriously the value of resent-
ment, imposing a value that is essentially religious, and being inappropriately
promoted through politics.46 Some of these criticisms, though, are properly
ones of bad forgiveness rather than forgiveness per se. Forgiveness does not
condone evil; it is unintelligible apart from naming an evil as such. Nor is it
intelligible as a forgetting of evil; rather, it begins with a recall of it. To forgive
is not to cease to oppose unjust structures or acts of violence, even through
force when force is just. It does not nullify the right to self-defense or require
that victims return to a condition of vulnerability to violence or other serious
mistreatment. While heads of states and other leaders may commend forgive-
ness, the freedom of victims to decide whether, when, and how to forgive must
always be respected. Because it requires an inward decision and is often most
difficult, it must never be forced or pressured.
What exactly is forgiveness? Some define it as a victim’s relinquishment of
justified anger, resentment, and all claims that a perpetrator owes him some-
thing for the deed. Forgiveness, especially as the religious traditions explain it,
does not just cancel; it also constructs. It imitates God’s will not only to free
the wrongdoer of punishment but also to restore him and the surrounding
community, as described in the scriptures of the Abrahamic faiths. Along with
relinquishing anger and claims, the forgiving victim wills new relationships in
a host of ways. In naming the evil and seeking to overcome it, he asserts that
the perpetrator’s message of injustice no longer diminishes him. He looks at
the perpetrator as someone who is no longer a perpetrator but is now “in good
standing.” His memory of the perpetrator’s deed may not disappear but is over-
come through a subsequent act of mercy. If the perpetrator has not apologized,
he invites this apology and, indeed, the restoration of his soul. In traveling from
being a victim of violence to an active constructer of peace, the victim regains
agency and takes on a kind of strength. Victims can also experience a healing
of the debilitating, corrosive effects of anger and resentment. Inasmuch as
the forgiver wills right relationship and achieves some degree of restoration,
he brings about reconciliation, though not the whole of it. Forgiveness may or
may not be accompanied by apology and contrition on the part of perpetrators.
A victim may also decline to reestablish full relationship with a perpetrator, too,
perhaps to protect himself or his property.
Political forgiveness does all of these things in response to a political injus-
tice in particular. It invites right relationship in the political order, where vic-
tims and perpetrators come to respect one another’s citizenship. Sometimes
forgiveness can bring about the secondary restoration of legitimacy and sta-
bility in the political community. When victims and perpetrators of political
injustices are no longer hostile to each other, they may well offer more assent
to their political order. Mandela’s magnanimous choice to forgive, for instance,
doubtless led South African whites to be less hostile toward the post-apartheid
government than they would have been had he prosecuted their leaders or
even remained hostile in his rhetoric; many blacks were inspired to follow his
example. Because all of these restorations make up the justice of reconciliation,
forgiveness can be said to be an act of justice—again, a surprising and disso-

nant claim in the liberal tradition.47 Of course, it is at the same time an act of
mercy, reconciliation’s chief virtue.
Like the five other practices, forgiveness complements the other practices
of reconciliation. It begets apology if apology has not already occurred, just as
apology invites forgiveness in the case that apology occurs first. Nothing about
forgiveness negates the justice of reparations or requires relinquishing a strug-
gle against social injustice. But what about punishment? Are forgiveness and
punishment reconcilable in an ethic of reconciliation? Or are debates around
the globe correct in seeing them as being at odds? In the present ethic, forgive-
ness and punishment are compatible. Both forgiveness and punishment enact
a division of labor in which each one restores in different respects. A victim
could in fact will both forgiveness and punishment at the same time. Forgive-
ness wills the restoration of the perpetrator and the political order in all the
ways already described. A call for punishment is a call for the communication
from the community that also defeats the message of the perpetrator, calls him
to remorse, honors the value of the community, and so on. In its own way, each
practice wills restoration. The compatibility of punishment and forgiveness is
furthered still by the fact that the state carries out the punishment. The state
can best communicate on behalf of the community. The state, of course, also
performs other important dimensions of punishment like police work, trials,
and imprisonment, all of which have their own sets of ethical norms attached
to them. Such a division of labor, where many parties participate in justice in
many ways, is indeed the logic of restorative justice.
Things become a little more complicated when a head of state is the for-
giver. If heads of state can apologize on behalf of groups, why can they not for-
give on behalf of groups? The state also has the duty to enforce law and punish
criminals. Maintaining the compatibility of punishment and forgiveness at this
level requires seeing the state as playing two roles. When a leader of a state for-
gives—as Mandela did—he forgoes anger, resentment, and hostility toward a
wrongdoer or even another collective people who committed injustices against
himself or members of his group. But individual perpetrators must still face
the punishment through which the community communicates its censure, a
punishment whose implementation is the duty of the state. Of course, in the
case of South Africa, few apartheid leaders were prosecuted, in part because of
the amnesty provisions of the agreement that ended apartheid. But in princi-
ple, a head of state could both prosecute and forgive.
Conclusion
All of the practices interact, sometimes in tension, sometimes complementarily.

Each is in its own way restorative, seeking to heal one or another dimension of
woundedness caused by political injustice. That is the chief moral accomplish-
ment of an ethic of reconciliation—to increase human flourishing by restoring
right relationships in a political order. The participants in the practices have,
in some respect, to some degree, traveled from a condition of one or more

forms of woundedness to a condition where they are restored to some degree.
Each practice performs the virtue of mercy, understood in its classical sense. In
like spirit, the chief justification for an ethic of reconciliation is that it restores
human flourishing more fully than efforts to address injustices that do not
involve the several distinct practices. Were a society’s dealings with its past to
lack any one of the practices, were reconciliation in any of these respects to be
peeled back, stripped down, or shorn of a layer, then it would leave an impor-
tant moral dimension of restoration unfulfilled. Both together and in isolation,
though, each practice yields moral dilemmas. The descriptions of the practices
here only allude to or briefly explore these dilemmas. Other dilemmas are not
addressed at all. The purpose of the chapter, rather, is to show how each of the
practices is restorative in nature, applicable to politics, and constitutive of a
holistic, interwoven ethic of political reconciliation.
NOTES
1. Scholars and other analysts have come to call this question “transitional
justice,” referring to initiatives to address injustices of the past during the transitional
period in which a peace agreement is implemented or an authoritarian regime has
just left the stage. Such a usage is too narrow. The term can be retained, but only
with caveats and widenings. One sort pertains to the adjective transitional. Transitions
are often uncertain. As mentioned in the introduction to this volume and in Jackie
Smith’s chapter, peace agreements frequently do not last, nor do movements toward
democratization. Furthermore, trials, truth commissions, reparations, and other
activities that are much the same as those that occur in transitional periods sometimes
occur long after (sometimes a generation or more after) the actual transition. Other
emendations of transitional justice pertain to its noun, justice. The term transitional
justice arose amid debates over the prosecution of human rights violators. Justice,
especially as defined in this chapter, involves a far wider range of questions and efforts.
Transitional justice, then, can be redefined as “the sum total of activities that states and
citizens undertake to redress past political injustices in order to restore political orders
both shortly after peace agreements or regime transitions have taken place as well as
long into the future.”
2. Michael Walzer, Just and Unjust Wars: A Moral Argument with Historical
Illustrations (New York: Basic Books, 1977), arguably remains the most widely cited
contemporary text of the just war tradition. My own approach to this ethic resonates
strongest with John Finnis, “The Ethics of War and Peace in the Catholic Natural Law
Tradition,” in The Ethics of War and Peace: Religious and Secular Perspectives, ed. Terry
Nardin (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1996).
3. This chapter is part of a larger work in progress, Just and Unjust Peace: An Ethic
of Political Reconciliation.
4. Brandon Hamber and Richard A. Wilson, “Symbolic Closure through Memory,
Reparation and Revenge in Post-Conflict Societies,” Journal of Human Rights 1, no. 1
(March 2002): 40.
5. André Du Toit, “The Moral Foundations of the South African TRC: Truth as
Acknowledgment and Justice as Recognition,” in Truth v. Justice: The Morality of Truth
Commissions, ed. Robert I. Rotberg and Dennis Thompson (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton
University Press, 2000), 133.
6. Here I do not mean to adopt a simple “ancient hatreds” explanation for

communal conflict. Such conflict has complex causes, long-term, intermediate-term,
and immediate, and range from the manipulations of elites, the media, economic
inequalities and changes, demographic changes, state failure, and culture. I do
make the more modest claim that the emotions arising from one set of injustices
can be an important cause, among others, of further injustices. Making this case
well, in my view, are Stathis Kalyvas, The Logic of Violence in Civil War
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006); Stuart Kaufman, Modern Hatreds:
The Symbolic Politics of Ethnic War (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2001); Roger
D. Peterson, Understanding Ethnic Violence: Fear, Hatred, and Resentment in Twentieth-
Century Eastern Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). On the role
of emotions in politics, see John Mercer, “Rationality and Psychology in International
Relations,” International Organization 59 (2005); Robert C. Roberts, Emotions:
An Essay in Aid of Moral Psychology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2003).
7. See, for instance, Mahmood Mamdani, “Reconciliation without Justice,”
South African Review of Books 46 (1996).
8. For arguments falling along these lines, see Timothy Garton Ash, “True
Confessions,” New York Review of Books 44 (1997); Rajeev Bhargava, “Restoring
Decency to Barbaric Societies,” in Truth v. Justice: The Morality of Truth Commissions,
ed. Robert I. Rotberg and Dennis Thompson (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University
Press, 2000); David A. Crocker, “Retribution and Reconciliation,” Philosophy and
Public Policy 20, no. 1 (2000), David A. Crocker, “Truth Commissions, Transitional
Justice, and Civil Society,” in Truth v. Justice: The Morality of Truth Commissions, ed.
Robert I. Rotberg and Dennis Thompson (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University
Press, 2000); Kent Greenawalt, “Amnesty’s Justice,” in Truth v. Justice: The Morality
of Truth Commissions, ed. Robert I. Rotberg and Dennis Thompson (Princeton, N.J.:
Princeton University Press, 2000); Amy Gutmann and Dennis Thompson, “The
Moral Foundations of Truth Commissions,” in Truth v. Justice: The Morality of Truth
Commissions, ed. Robert I. Rotberg and Dennis Thompson (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton
University Press, 2000). For the economically based criticism, see, among others,
Mamdani, “Reconciliation without Justice.”
9. See Peter Digeser, Political Forgiveness (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press,
2001); Greenawalt, “Amnesty’s Justice.”
10. Crocker, “Retribution and Reconciliation.”
11. John W. De Gruchy, Reconciliation: Restoring Justice (Minneapolis, Minn.:
Fortress Press, 2003); Desmond Tutu, No Future without Forgiveness (New York:
Doubleday, 1999).
12. For an excellent survey of concepts of justice, see D. D. Raphael, Concepts of
Justice (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001).
13. John Braithwaite, Crime, Shame, and Reintegration (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1989); John Braithwaite and Philip Pettit, Not Just Deserts: A
Republican Theory of Criminal Justice (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990); Michael
L. Hadley, ed., The Spiritual Roots of Restorative Justice (Albany: State University
of New York Press, 2001); Paul McCold, “Restorative Justice and the Role of the
Community,” in Restorative Justice: International Perspectives, ed. Burt Galaway and
Joe Hudson (Monsey: Criminal Justice Press, 1996); Eugene McLaughlin et al., eds.,
Restorative Justice (Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage Publications, 2003); Heather Strang
and John Braithwaite, eds., Restorative Justice and Civil Society (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2001); Daniel W. Van Ness and Karen Heetderks Strong, Restoring
Justice: An Introduction to Restorative Justice (Atlanta: Anderson Press, 2006); Howard

Zehr, Changing Lenses (Scottdale, Penn.: Herald Press, 1990).
14. Alasdair C. MacIntyre, Dependent Rational Animals: Why Human Beings Need
the Virtues (Chicago: Open Court, 1999), 124–25.
15. My understanding of mercy is informed most by Pope John Paul II, “Dives in
Misericordia,” 1984.
16. See Douglas Johnston and Brian Cox, “Faith-Based Diplomacy and Preventive
Engagement,” in Faith-Based Diplomacy: Trumping Realpolitik, ed. Douglas Johnston
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003).
17. I argue this claim in Daniel Philpott, “When Faith Meets History: The
Influence of Religion on Transitional Justice,” in The Religious in Response to Mass
Atrocity: Interdisciplinary Perspectives, ed. Thomas Brudholm and Thomas Cushman
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009).
18. See ibid.
19. Irving Greenberg, “Religion as a Force for Reconciliation and Peace: A Jewish
Analysis,” in Beyond Violence: Religious Sources of Social Transformation in Judaism,
Christianity, and Islam, ed. James L. Heft (New York: Fordham University Press, 2004);
Sol Schimmel, “Joseph and His Brothers: A Paradigm for Repentance,” Judaism,
Quarterly Journal of Jewish Life and Thought 37, no. 1 (1988); Solomon Schimmel,
Wounds Not Healed by Time: The Power of Repentance and Forgiveness (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2002); Moshe Weinfeld, Social Justice in Ancient Israel (Minneapolis,
Minn.: Augsburg Fortress Publishers, 1995); Perry Yoder, Shalom: The Bible’s Word for
Salvation, Justice, and Peace (Newton, Kan.: Faith and Life Press, 1987).
20. De Gruchy, Reconciliation, 46, 51.
21. Majid Khadduri, The Islamic Conception of Justice (New York: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1984), 3–12.
22. Mohammed Abu-Nimer, Nonviolence and Peace Building in Islam (Gainesville:
University Press of Florida, 2003), 60; Khadduri, The Islamic Conception of Justice,
3–12; Carol Schersten LaHurd, “‘So That the Sinner Will Repent’: Forgiveness in
Islam and Christianity,” Dialog 35, no. 4 (1996): 288; A. Rashied Omar, “Between
Compassion and Justice: Locating an Islamic Definition of Peace,” Peace Colloquy
(Spring 2005): 9.
23. Abdulaziz Abdulhussein Sachedina, The Islamic Roots of Democratic Pluralism
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), 106.
24. Nawal H. Ammar, “Restorative Justice in Islam: Theory and Practice,” in The
Spiritual Roots of Restorative Justice, ed. Michael L. Hadley (Albany: State University of
New York Press, 2001), 169–73. See also Sachedina, Islamic Roots of Democratic Pluralism.
25. Abu-Nimer, Nonviolence and Peace Building in Islam; George E. Irani and
Nathan C. Funk, “Rituals of Reconciliation: Arab-Islamic Perspectives,” Arab Studies
Quarterly 20, no. 4 (1998).
26. Robert Audi and Nicholas Wolterstorff, Religion in the Public Square: The
Place of Religious Convictions in Political Debate (Lanham, Md.: Rowman and Littlefield,
1997); John Rawls, “The Idea of Public Reason Revisited,” in The Law of Peoples
(Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1999); Lawrence Solum, “Constructing
an Ideal of Public Reason,” San Diego Law Review 30 (1993).
27. See Gutmann and Thompson, “The Moral Foundations of Truth
Commissions.”
28. Jonathan Fox and Shmuel Sandler, “Separation of Religion and State in
the Twenty-First Century: Comparing the Middle East and Western Democracies,”
Comparative Politics (2005).
29. See the arguments of Nicholas Wolterstoff in Audi and Wolterstorff, Religion
in the Public Square, Christopher J. Eberle, Religious Conviction in Liberal Politics
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), Jeffrey Stout, Democracy and
Tradition (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2004).
30. Samuel P. Huntington, The Third Wave: Democratization in the Late Twentieth
Century (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991), 211–31.
31. Again, MacIntyre comes to our aid. A practice, he explains in After Virtue, is:
“any coherent and complex form of socially established cooperative human activity
through which goods internal to that form of activity are realized in the course of
trying to achieve those standards of excellence which are appropriate to, and partially
definitive of, that form of activity, with the result that human powers to achieve
excellence, and human conceptions of the ends and goods involved are systematically
extended.” His definition identifies crucial components of practices. The good of
reconciliation, the excellence that it achieves, is restoration of relationships in the
political order. Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory, 2nd ed. (Notre
Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1984), 187.
32. I understand legitimacy to have two primary meanings. One is normative,
pertaining to the intrinsic rightness of laws and institutions. The other is descriptive,
pertaining to the degree to which laws and institutions enjoy assent in the judgments
of those who live under them. I deploy the latter meaning presently.
33. The version of the just war theory that I find most compelling is Finnis, “The
Ethics of War and Peace.” For a prominent attempt to extend the just war framework
to humanitarian intervention, see Responsibility to Protect: Report of the International
Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (Ottawa, Ont.: International
Development Research Centre, 2001). For a variety of perspectives on the justice of
self-determination movements, see Margaret Moore, ed., National Self-Determination
and Secession (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998).
34. Adrian Karatnycky and Peter Ackerman, How Freedom Is Won: From Civic
Resistance to Durable Democracy (New York: Freedom House, 2005).
35. On knowledge versus acknowledgment, see Du Toit, “The Moral
Foundations.”
36. Michael Hayes and David Tombs, eds., Truth and Memory: The Church and
Human Rights in El Salvador and Guatemala (Leominster, U.K.: Gracewing, 2001);
34, 107, 25, Paul Jeffrey, Recovering Memory: Guatemalan Churches and the Challenge
of Peacemaking (Uppsala, Sweden: Life & Peace Institute, 1998), 51; Recovery of
Historical Memory Project, Guatemala: Never Again! (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books,
1999), xxiii–xxix.
37. Jeremy Waldron, “Superseding Historical Injustice,” Ethics 103, no. 6 (1992).
38. See J. D. Bindenagel, “Justice, Apology, Reconciliation and the German
Foundation: Remembrance, Responsibility, and the Future,” in Taking Wrongs
Seriously: Apologies and Reconciliation, ed. Elazar Barkan and Alexander Karn (Stanford,
Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2006).
39. See Ted Hondereich, Punishment: The Supposed Justifications
(Harmondsworth, U.K.: Penguin, 1971).
40. See Christopher D. Marshall, Beyond Retribution: A New Testament Vision
for Justice, Crime and Punishment (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 2001); For
other philosophers who reason along similar lines, see R. A. Duff, Punishment,
Communication, and Community (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001); Jean
Hampton, “The Moral Education Theory of Punishment,” Philosophy and Public Affairs
(1984); Marshall, Beyond Retribution, Elizabeth Moberly, Suffering, Innocent, and
Guilty (London: SPCK, 1978), Herbert Morris, “Persons and Punishment,” Monist 52
(1968).
41. Ammar, “Restorative Justice in Islam.” This is not to elide disputed issues of
interpretation. Obviously, some scriptures in the texts of each of the Abrahamic faiths
seem on their face to run against a restorative logic of punishment. The full case for
biblical and Qur’anic restorative punishment lies in sources like those that I have cited
here.
42. Barry O’Neill, Honor, Symbols, and War (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan
Press, 1999), 178–82.
43. For a good sociological account of apology, see Nicholas Tavuchis, Mea Culpa:
A Sociology of Apology and Reconciliation (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press,
1991). For a work on apology in international politics, see Jennifer Lind, Sorry States:
Apologies in International Politics (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2008).
44. See Trudy Govier, Forgiveness and Revenge (London: Routledge, 2002), 68–72.
45. See, for instance, Abu-Nimer, Nonviolence and Peace Building in Islam; William
Bole, Drew Christiansen, and Robert T. Hennemeyer, Forgiveness in International
Politics: An Alternative Road to Peace (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Conference of Catholic
Bishops, 2004); Marc Gopin, Between Eden and Armageddon: The Future of World
Religions, Violence, and Peacemaking (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000); Alan
Torrance, “The Theological Grounds for Advocating Forgiveness and Reconciliation
in the Sociopolitical Realm,” in The Politics of Past Evil (Notre Dame, Ind.: University
of Notre Dame Press, 2006); Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological
Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nashville, Tenn.: Abingdon Press,
1996).
46. For a piece that contains both thoughtful criticism of forgiveness as well
as a survey of criticisms, see Thomas Brudholm, “On the Advocacy of Forgiveness
after Mass Atrocities,” in The Religious in Response to Mass Atrocity: Interdisciplinary
Perspectives, ed. Thomas Brudholm and Thomas Cushman (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2009), 124–156.
47. Christopher D. Marshall also argues that forgiveness is an act of justice. See
Marshall, Beyond Retribution.
5
Whose Strategy, Whose Peace?
The Role of International Institutions
in Strategic Peacebuilding
Simon Chesterman
Tolstoy wrote that all happy families are happy alike, while every
unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. It is tempting to say
the same thing of states, as successful states enter an increasingly
homogenous globalized economy and weaker states slip into
individualized chaos. That would be only partly true. The peacebuild-
ing efforts considered in this volume demonstrate the importance
of local context—history, culture, individual actors—but they also
suggest more general lessons as to how external actors may help
states emerging from crisis. This chapter critically examines
the lessons applicable to efforts by international institutions—
prominently, but not only, the United Nations—to support or
impose transitions from conflict to durable peace.
In early 1995, chastened by the failed operation in Somalia, the
failing operation in Bosnia and Herzegovina, and inaction in the
face of genocide in Rwanda, UN Secretary General Boutros Boutros-
Ghali issued a conservative supplement to his more optimistic 1992
Agenda for Peace. The Supplement noted that a new breed of intrastate
conflicts presented the United Nations with challenges not encoun-
tered since the Congo operation of the early 1960s. A feature of these
conflicts was the collapse of state institutions, especially the police
and judiciary, meaning that international intervention had to extend
beyond military and humanitarian tasks to include the “promo-
tion of national reconciliation and the re-establishment of effective
government.” Nevertheless, he expressed caution against the United
Nations assuming responsibility for law and order or attempting
to impose state institutions on unwilling combatants.1 General Sir
Michael Rose, then commander of the UN Protection Force in
Bosnia (UNPROFOR), called this form of mission creep crossing “the Mogad-
ishu line.”2
Despite such cautious words, by the end of 1995 the United Nations had
assumed responsibility for policing in Bosnia under the Dayton Agreement.
The following January, a mission was established with temporary civil govern-
ance functions over the last Serb-held region of Croatia in eastern Slavonia.
In June 1999, the Security Council authorized an interim administration in
Kosovo to govern part of what remained technically Serbian territory for an
indefinite period; four months later, a transitional administration was created
with effective sovereignty over East Timor until independence. These expand-
ing mandates continued a trend that began with the operations in Namibia
in 1989 and Cambodia in 1993, where the United Nations exercised varying
degrees of civilian authority in addition to supervising elections.
Efforts to construct or reconstruct institutions of the state from the outside
are hardly new: decolonization and military occupation are the estranged ances-
tors of more recent activities in this area. What was novel about the missions
undertaken in Kosovo and East Timor was the amount of executive authority
assumed by the United Nations itself, placing it in the position of an occupy-
ing power. Though this power was presumably understood to be exercised in a
benevolent fashion, problems associated with foreign rule repeated themselves
with some predictable results in the cases examined here.
Postconflict reconstruction through the 1990s thus saw an increasing
trend toward rebuilding governance structures through assuming some or
all governmental powers on a temporary basis. Such transitional administra-
tion operations can be divided into two broad classes: where state institutions
are divided and where they have collapsed. The first class encompasses situa-
tions in which governance structures were the subject of dispute with different
groups claiming power (as in Cambodia or Bosnia and Herzegovina) or ethnic
tensions within the structures themselves (such as Kosovo). The second class
comprises circumstances in which such structures simply did not exist (as in
Namibia, East Timor, and Afghanistan). A possible third class is suggested by
recent experiences in Iraq, where regime change took place in a territory with
far greater human, institutional, and economic resources than any compara-
ble situation in which the United Nations or other actor had exercised civilian
administration functions since World War II.3
The term nation-building, sometimes used in this context, is broad, vague,
and often pejorative. In the course of the 2000 U.S. presidential campaign,
Governor George W. Bush used it as a dismissive reference to the application of
U.S. military resources beyond traditional mandates. The word was also used
to conflate the circumstances in which U.S. forces found themselves in con-
flict with the local population—most notably in Somalia—with complex and
time-consuming operations, such as those under way in Bosnia, Kosovo, and
East Timor. Although it continues to be used in this context, notably within the
United States, nation-building also has a more specific meaning in the postco-
lonial context, referring to efforts by new leaders to rally a population within
sometimes arbitrary territorial frontiers. The focus here is on the state (that is,
THE ROLE OF INTERNATIONAL INSTITUTIONS 121
the highest institutions of governance in a territory) rather than the nation (a

people who share common customs, origins, history, and frequently language)
as such.4
Within the United Nations, the word peacebuilding is generally preferred.
This has been taken to mean, among other things, “reforming or strengthen-
ing governmental institutions,”5 or “the creation of structures for the institu-
tionalization of peace.”6 It tends, however, to embrace a far broader range of
activities than those particular operations under consideration here—at times
being used to describe virtually all forms of international assistance to coun-
tries that have experienced or are at risk of armed conflict.7
Strategic peacebuilding, in the sense used in this volume, is a little—but
only a little—more specific. It embraces the set of complementary practices
intended to transform a society from a state of violence or deep injustice to long-
term sustainable peace and justice. Key questions to be answered, of course, are
who determines the strategy for a given crisis and who evaluates the sustain-
ability and justice of the peace that may emerge. One of the strengths of this vol-
ume is that it recognizes that the answers to these “who” questions will typically
not be confined to a single actor, and the answer may change over time.
It is frequently assumed that the collapse of state structures, whether
through defeat by an external power or as a result of internal chaos, leads to
a vacuum of political power. This is rarely the case. The mechanisms through
which political power are exercised may be less formalized or consistent, but
basic questions of how best to ensure the physical and economic security of
oneself and one’s dependents do not simply disappear when the institutions of
the state break down. Nonstate actors in such situations may exercise varying
degrees of political power over local populations, at times providing basic social
services from education to medical care. Even where nonstate actors exist as
parasites on local populations, political life goes on. How to engage in such an
environment is a particular problem for policy makers in intergovernmental
organizations and donor governments. But it poses far greater difficulties for
the embattled state institutions and the populations of such territories.
International actors, the focus in this chapter, may play a critical role—if
only in creating the opportunity for local actors to establish legitimate and sus-
tainable governance. This relationship between the international and the local
is a central theme in the editors’ conception of strategic peacebuilding. Some-
times creating such opportunities means holding back. Humanitarian and, to
some extent, development assistance flows most freely in response to crisis, but
it rarely addresses the underlying causes of either poverty or conflict, as Larissa
Fast shows in her chapter. As Jackie Smith argues, such assistance, if not well
managed, may in fact undermine more sustainable recovery by establishing
relationships of dependence and distorting the economy with unsustainable
allocations of resources.
Until recently, there was little strategy in how international actors approached
such problems. Indeed, reflecting Boutros-Ghali’s earlier objections, there was
no agreement that postconflict reconstruction was something in which the
United Nations should become involved. The fact that such operations con-
tinue to be managed by the UN Department of Peacekeeping Operations is

suggestive of the ad hoc approach that characterized transitional administra-
tion. This was evident in the 2000 Report of the Panel on UN Peace Opera-
tions, known as the Brahimi Report, which noted the likely demand for such
operations as well as the “evident ambivalence” within governments and the
UN Secretariat itself concerning the development of an institutional capacity to
undertake them. Because of this ambivalence, it was impossible to achieve any
consensus on recommendations, so the Department of Peacekeeping Opera-
tions continued to play the dominant supporting role.8
The creation in December 2005 of a Peacebuilding Commission, then,
was a significant development—even if only as belated recognition that this
was an important function of the United Nations. Established by the General
Assembly to (among other things) “propose integrated strategies for post-
conflict peacebuilding,”9 it remains a work in progress. In theory, this could be
the vehicle that develops and oversees policies embracing the interdependence
of issues demonstrated in this volume. As we will see, however, theory has
rarely led practice in the UN experience of peacebuilding.
This chapter evaluates strategic peacebuilding by the United Nations.
The section that follows highlights some of the difficulties inherent in the
political project of seeking to lay the foundations of peace from the outside;
the next section explores the prospects for improvement, with particular
reference to the Peacebuilding Commission. A survey of the practice shows
significant improvement in technical areas such as staging elections; the
Peacebuilding Commission may remedy some of the coordination problems
and funding gaps that plague postconflict operations. It is far from clear,
however, that the political contradictions inherent in such operations are
being adequately understood, let alone addressed. There has been a good deal
of improvement in the tools and the tactics available, but not much sign of
strategy.
Problems
Is it even possible to establish the necessary political and economic conditions

for legitimate and sustainable national governance through a period of benevo-
lent foreign autocracy under UN auspices? This contradiction between ends
and means has plagued recent efforts to govern postconflict territories in the
Balkans, East Timor, Afghanistan, and Iraq. Such state-building operations
combine an unusual mix of idealism and realism: the idealist project that a
people can be saved from themselves through education, economic incentives,
and the space to develop mature political institutions; the realist basis for that
project in what is ultimately military occupation.
Much research has focused on the doctrinal and operational difficulties
experienced by such operations.10 This is a valuable area of research, but it may
obscure three sets of contradictions between means and ends that undermined
such operations: the means are inconsistent with the ends, they are frequently
inadequate for those ends, and in many situations they are inappropriate for
the ends.
Inconsistent
Benevolent autocracy is an uncertain foundation for legitimate and sustainable
national governance. It is inaccurate and often counterproductive to assert that
transitional administration depends on the consent or “ownership” of the local
population.11 It is inaccurate because if genuine local control were possible,
then a transitional administration would not be necessary. It is counterproduc-
tive because insincere claims of local ownership lead to frustration and sus-
picion on the part of local actors. Clarity is therefore required in recognizing
(1) the strategic objectives, (2) the relationship between international and local
actors and how this will change over time, and (3) the commitment required of
international actors to achieve objectives that warrant the temporary assump-
tion of autocratic powers under a benevolent international administration.
In a case like East Timor, the strategic objective—independence—was both
clear and uncontroversial. Frustration with the slow pace of reconstruction or
the inefficiencies of the UN presence could generally be tempered by reference
to the uncontested aim of independence and a timetable within which this was
to be achieved. In Kosovo, failure to articulate a position on its final status inhib-
its the development of a mature political elite and deters foreign investment.
The present ambiguity derives from a compromise that was brokered between
the United States and Russia at the end of the NATO campaign against the Fed-
eral Republic of Yugoslavia in 1999, formalized in Security Council resolution
1244 (1999). Nevertheless, the United Nations is now blamed for frustrating
the aspirations of Kosovars for self-determination. Many national and interna-
tional observers blamed lack of progress in resolving the issue of final status as
a key factor in fueling the violence that erupted in the province in March 2004.
Martti Ahtisaari’s ongoing efforts to broker a final status agreement continue
to be frustrated by the attachment of each side to positions—independence or
integration—that are both unambiguous and irreconcilable.12
Obfuscation of strategic political objectives leads to ambiguity in the man-
date. Niche mandate implementation by a proliferation of postconflict actors
may further complicate the transition to durable peace. More than five years
after the Dayton Agreement, a “recalibration” exercise required the various
international agencies present in Bosnia and Herzegovina to perform an insti-
tutional audit to determine what, exactly, each of them did.13 Such dysfunction
strongly suggests the need for the strategic approach called for in this volume
and also points to the practical barriers to implementing it. Subsidiary bodies
and specialized agencies of the United Nations should in principle place their
material and human resources at the direct disposal of the transitional admin-
istration: all activities should be oriented toward an agreed political goal, which
should normally be legitimate and sustainable government. Ideally, the unity
of civilian authority should also embrace command of the military. In reality,
the reluctance of the United States and other industrialized countries to put
their troops under UN command makes this highly improbable. Coordination

thus becomes more important to avoid some of the difficulties encountered in
civil–military relations, for example, in Afghanistan.
Clarity in the relationship between international and local actors raises
the question of ownership. This term is often used disingenuously—either to
mask the assertion of potentially dictatorial powers by international actors or
to carry a psychological rather than political meaning in the area of reconstruc-
tion. Ownership in this context is usually not intended to mean control and
often does not even imply a direct input into political questions.14 This is not to
suggest that local control is a substitute for international administration. As the
operation in Afghanistan demonstrates, a “light footprint” makes the success
of an operation more than usually dependent on the political dynamic of local
actors. Because the malevolence or collapse of that political dynamic is pre-
cisely the reason that power is arrogated to an international presence, the light
footprint is unsustainable as a model for general application. How much power
should be transferred and for how long depends on the political transition that
is required; this in turn is a function of the root causes of the conflict, the local
capacity for change, and the degree of international commitment available to
assist in bringing about that change.15
Local ownership, then, must be the end of a transitional administration,
but it is not the means. Openness about the trustee-like relationship between
international and local actors would help locals by ensuring transparency about
the powers that they will exercise at various stages of the transition. Openness
would also help the states that mandate and fund such operations by forcing
acknowledgment of their true nature and the level of commitment required to
effect the transition.
Clarifying the commitment necessary to bring about fundamental change
in a conflict-prone territory is, however, a double-edged sword. It would ensure
that political will exists prior to authorizing a transitional administration, but
perhaps at the expense of other operations that would not be authorized at all.
The mission in Bosnia was always expected to last beyond its nominal twelve-
month deadline but might not have been established if it had been envisaged
that troops would remain on the ground for a full decade or more. Donors
contemplating Afghanistan in November 2001 balked at early estimates that
called for a ten-year, $25 billion commitment to the country. In the lead-up
to the war with Iraq, the chief of staff of the U.S. Army was similarly pooh-
poohed—and later forced into retirement—by the leadership of the Defense
Department when he testified to the Senate that several hundred thousand sol-
diers would be required for postwar duties.16 Political considerations already
limit the choice of missions, of course: not for lack of opportunity, no major
transitional administration has been established in Africa, where the demands
are probably greatest. The primary barrier to establishing transitional admin-
istration–type operations in areas such as Western Sahara, Somalia, and the
Democratic Republic of the Congo has less to do with the difficulty of such
operations than with the absence of political will to commit the resources nec-
essary to undertake them.17
Resolving the inconsistency between the means and the ends of transi-
tional administration requires a clear-eyed recognition of the role of power. The
collapse of formal state structures does not necessarily create a power vacuum;
as indicated earlier, political life does not simply cease. Constructive engage-
ment with power on this local level requires both an understanding of culture
and history as well as respect for the political aspirations of the population.
Clarity will also help here: the international presence either exercises quasi-
sovereign powers on a temporary basis, or it does not. This clarity must exist at
the formal level, but it leaves much room for nuance in implementation.
Most obviously, assertion of executive authority should be on a diminishing
basis, with power devolved as appropriate to local institutions. The transfer of
power must be of more than symbolic value: once power is transferred to local
hands, whether at the municipal or national level, local actors should be able to
exercise that power meaningfully, constrained only by the rule of law. Unless
and until genuine transfer is possible, consultation is appropriate but without
the pretense that this is the same as control. Where international actors do not
exercise sovereign power—because of the size of the territory, the complexity of
the conflict, or a simple lack of political will—this is not the same as exercising
no power at all. Certain functions may be delegated to the international pres-
ence, as they were in Cambodia and Afghanistan, and international actors will
continue to exercise considerable behind-the-scenes influence either because
of ongoing responsibilities in a peace process or as gatekeepers to development
assistance. In either case, the abiding need is for clarity as to who is in charge
and, equally important, who is going to be in charge.
Inadequate
International interest in postconflict operations tends to be ephemeral, with
availability of funds linked to the prominence of a foreign crisis on the domes-
tic agenda of the states that contribute funds and troops. Both have tended
to be insufficient. Funds for postconflict reconstruction are notoriously sup-
ply- rather than demand-driven. This leads to multiplication of bureaucracy
in the recipient country, inconsistency in disbursement procedures, and a
focus on projects that may be more popular with donors than they are neces-
sary in the recipient country. Reluctance to commit funds is surpassed only
by reluctance to commit troops: in the absence of security, however, mean-
ingful political change is impossible. This was confirmed in the most brutal
way possible with the attacks on UN personnel in Baghdad on August 19,
2003.
The ephemeral nature of international interest in postconflict operations
is, unfortunately, a cliché. When the United States overthrew the Taliban
regime in Afghanistan, President Bush likened the commitment to rebuild
the devastated country to the Marshall Plan. Just over twelve months later, in
February 2003, the White House apparently forgot to include any money for
reconstruction in the 2004 budget that it submitted to Congress. Legislators
reallocated $300 million in aid to cover the oversight.18 Such oversights are
disturbingly common: much of the aid that is pledged arrives either late or not
at all. This demands a measure of artificiality in drafting budgets for recon-
struction, which in turn leads to suspicion on the part of donors—sometimes
further delaying the disbursement of funds. For example, $880 million was
pledged at the Conference on Rehabilitation and Reconstruction of Cambodia
in June 1992. By the time the new government was formed in September 1993,
only $200 million had been disbursed, rising to only $460 million by the end
of 1995. The problem is not simply one of volume: Bosnia has received more
per capita assistance than Europe did under the Marshall Plan, but the incoher-
ence of funding programs, the lack of a regional approach, and the inadequacy
of state and entity institutions have contributed to the country remaining in
financial crisis.19
Many of these problems would be reduced if donors replaced the system of
voluntary funding for relief and reconstruction for transitional administrations
with assessed contributions, which presently fund peacekeeping operations.
The distinction between funds supporting a peacekeeping operation and those
providing assistance to a government makes sense when there is some form of
indigenous government, but it is arbitrary in situations where the peacekeep-
ing operation is the government. Given existing strains on the peacekeeping
budget, however, such a change is unlikely. A more realistic proposal would
be to pool voluntary contributions through a trust fund, ideally coordinated
by local actors or a mixed body of local and international personnel, perhaps
also drawing on private sector expertise. At the very least, a monitoring mecha-
nism to track aid flows would help ensure that money promised at the high
point of international attention to a crisis is in fact delivered and spent. The
experience of Afghanistan suggests that there is perhaps some learning taking
place in this area, though even during one of the greatest outpouring of emer-
gency relief fund in recent history—in response to the tsunami that struck the
Indian Ocean region on December 26, 2004—Secretary General Kofi Annan
felt compelled to remind donor governments, “We have often had gaps in the
past [between pledges and actual donations] and I hope it is not going to hap-
pen in this case.”20 The use of PricewaterhouseCoopers to track aid flows also
points to a new flexibility in using private sector expertise to avoid wastage and
corruption.
Parsimony of treasure is surpassed by the reluctance to expend blood in
policing postconflict territories. In the absence of security, however, meaning-
ful political change in a postconflict territory is next to impossible. Unless and
until the United Nations develops a rapidly deployable civilian police capacity,
either military tasks in a postconflict environment will include basic law and
order functions or these functions will not be performed at all. The military—
especially the U.S. military—is understandably reluctant to embrace duties
that are outside its field of expertise, but this is symptomatic of an anachro-
nistic view of UN peace operations. The dichotomy between peacekeeping and
enforcement actions was always artificial, and in the context of internal armed
conflict where large numbers of civilians are at risk, it becomes untenable.
Moreover, as most transitional administrations have followed conflicts initiated
under the auspices or in the name of the United Nations, inaction is not the
same as noninterference. Once military operations commence, external actors
have already begun a process of political transformation on the ground. As the
Independent Inquiry on Rwanda concluded, whether or not a peace operation
has a mandate or the will to protect civilians, its very presence creates an expec-
tation that it will do so.21
A key argument in the Brahimi Report was that missions with uncertain
mandates or inadequate resources should not be created at all:
Although presenting and justifying planning estimates according to
high operational standards might reduce the likelihood of an opera-
tion going forward, Member States must not be led to believe that
they are doing something useful for countries in trouble when—by
under-resourcing missions—they are more likely agreeing to a waste
of human resources, time and money.22
This view finds some support in the report of the International Commission
on Intervention and State Sovereignty, The Responsibility to Protect, which called
for the “responsibility to rebuild” to be seen as an integral part of any interven-
tion. When an intervention is contemplated, a postintervention strategy is both
an operational necessity and an ethical imperative.23 There is some evidence of
this principle now achieving at least rhetorical acceptance—despite his aver-
sion to nation-building, President Bush stressed before and during operations
in Afghanistan and Iraq that the United States would help in reconstructing
the territories in which it had intervened.
More than rhetoric is required. Success in state-building, in addition to
clarity of purpose, requires time and money. A lengthy international presence
will not ensure success, but an early departure guarantees failure. Similarly,
an abundance of resources will not make up for the lack of a coherent strat-
egy—though the fact that Kosovo has been the recipient of twenty-five times
more money and fifty times more troops on a per capita basis compared with
Afghanistan, goes some way toward explaining the modest achievements in
developing democratic institutions and the economy.24
Inappropriate
The inappropriateness of available means to desired ends presents the oppo-
site problem to that of the inadequacy of resources. Although the question of
limited resources—money, personnel, and international attention—depresses
the standards against which a postconflict operation can be judged, artificially
high international expectations may nevertheless be imposed in certain areas
of governance. Particularly when the United Nations itself assumes a govern-
ing role, there is a temptation to demand the highest standards of democracy,
human rights, the rule of law, and the provision of services.
Balancing these against the need for locally sustainable goals presents diffi-
cult problems. A computerized electoral registration system may be manifestly
ill-suited to a country with a low level of literacy and intermittent electricity, but
should an international nongovernmental organization refrain from opening

a world-class medical clinic if such levels of care are unsustainable? An abrupt
drop from high levels of care once the crisis and international interest passes
would be disruptive, but lowering standards early implies acceptance that peo-
ple who might otherwise have been treated will suffer. This was the dilemma
faced by the International Committee of the Red Cross, which transferred con-
trol of the Dili National Hospital to national authorities in East Timor almost a
year before independence.
Although most acute in areas such as health, the issue arises in many
aspects of transitional administration. In the best tradition of autocracies, the
international missions in Bosnia and Kosovo subscribed to the vast majority
of human rights treaties and then discovered raisons d’état that required them
to be abrogated. Efforts to promote the rule of law tend to focus more on the
prosecution of the highest profile crimes of the recent past than on develop-
ing institutions to manage criminal law in the near future. Humanitarian and
development assistance are notorious for being driven more by supply than
demand, with the result that projects that are funded tend to represent the
interests—and, frequently, the products and personnel—of donors rather than
recipients.25 Finally, staging elections in conflict zones has become something
of an art form, though more than half a dozen elections in Bosnia have yet to
produce a workable government.
Different issues arise in the area of human resources. Staffing such opera-
tions always takes place in an atmosphere of crisis, but personnel tend to be
selected from a limited pool of applicants (most of them internal) whose skills
may be irrelevant to the tasks at hand. In East Timor, for example, it would
have made sense to approach Portuguese-speaking governments to request
that staff with experience in public administration be seconded to the UN mis-
sion. Instead, it was not even possible to require Portuguese, Tetum, or Bahasa
Indonesia because they were not official UN working languages. Positions are
often awarded for political reasons or simply to ensure that staff lists are full;
once in place, there is no effective mechanism to assess an individual’s suit-
ability or remove him or her quickly if warranted. A separate problem is the
assumption that international staff who do possess relevant skills are also able
to train others in the same field. This is an entirely different skill, however,
and simply pairing international and local staff tends to provide less on-the-job
training than extended opportunities to stand around and watch—a problem
exacerbated by the fact that English tends to be used as the working language.
One element of the light footprint approach adopted in Afghanistan that is
certainly of general application is the need to justify every post occupied by
international staff rather than a local. Cultivating relations with diaspora com-
munities may help address this problem, serving the dual function of recruit-
ing culturally aware staff and encouraging the return of skilled expatriates
more generally.
The “can-do” attitude of many people within the UN system is one of the
most positive qualities that staff bring to a mission. If the problem is getting
100 tons of rice to 10,000 starving refugees, niceties of procedure are less
important than getting the job done. When the problem is governing a territory,
however, procedure is more important. In such circumstances, the can-do atti-
tude may become a cavalier disregard for local sensibilities. Moreover, many
staff in such situations are not used to criticism from the population that they
are “helping,” with some regarding it as a form of ingratitude. Where the
United Nations assumes the role of government, it should expect and wel-
come criticism appropriate to that of the sort of political environment it hopes
to foster. Security issues may require limits on this, but a central element in
the development of local political capacity is encouraging discussion among
local actors about these matters—apart from anything else, it enhances the
legitimacy of the conclusions drawn. International staff sometimes bemoan
the prospect of endless consultation getting in the way of their work, but in
many ways that conversation is precisely the point of their presence in the
territory.
Just as generals are sometimes accused of planning to refight their last
war, so the United Nations experiments in transitional administration have
reflected only gradual learning. Senior UN officials now acknowledge that to
varying degrees, Kosovo got the operation that should have been planned for
Bosnia four years earlier, and East Timor got what should have been sent to
Kosovo. Afghanistan’s very different light footprint approach draws, in turn,
on the outlines of what Lakhdar Brahimi argued would have been appropriate
for East Timor in 1999.
The United Nations may never again be called on to repeat operations
comparable to Kosovo and East Timor, where it exercised sovereign powers on
a temporary basis. Even so, it is certain that the circumstances that demanded
such interventions will recur. Lessons derived from past experiences of transi-
tional administration will be applicable whenever the United Nations or other
international actors engage in complex peace operations that include a polic-
ing function, civilian administration, development of the rule of law, establish-
ment of a national economy, staging of elections, or all of the above. Learning
from such lessons has not, however, been one of the strengths of the United
Nations.
Prospects
If there is a single generalizable lesson to be learned from the recent experience

of state-building, whether as transitional administration or preventing state
failure, it is modesty. The challenges before the United Nations now are not,
therefore, to develop grand theories or a revivified trusteeship capacity. Rather,
what is required are workable strategies and tactics with which to support insti-
tutions of the state before, during, and after conflict. As indicated earlier, doing
this effectively requires clarity in three areas: (1) the strategic aims of the action;
(2) the necessary institutional coordination to put all actors—especially security
and development actors—on the same page; and (3) a realistic basis for evaluat-
ing the success or failure of the action. Clarity in these three areas, if embraced
as policy and implemented as practice, would represent a key move toward

something one might call strategic peacebuilding.
Strategy
The accepted wisdom within the UN community, articulated most recently
in the Brahimi Report, is that a successful UN peace operation should ideally
consist of three sequential stages. First, the political basis for peace must be
determined. Then a suitable mandate for a UN mission should be formulated.
Finally, that mission should be given all the resources necessary to complete
the mandate.26 The accepted reality is that this usually happens in the reverse
order: member states determine what resources they are prepared to commit
to a problem, and a mandate is cobbled together around those resources—
often in the hope that a political solution will be forthcoming at some later
date.
Strategic failure may affect all levels of an operation. The most common
types of failures are at the level of overall mandate, in the interaction between
different international actors with competing or inconsistent mandates, and in
the relationship between international and national actors on the ground.
Kosovo’s uncertain final status, for example, has severely undermined the
ongoing peace operation there, contrasting starkly with the simplicity of East
Timor’s transition to independence. Clarity concerning the political trajectory
of a territory under transitional administration is essential, but lack of strategy
also undermines efforts to prevent the collapse of state institutions. In Afghanistan,
prioritizing the military strategy at times undermined the professed political
aims—most prominently in decisions to support warlords for tactical reasons
in the hunt for al Qaeda even as they undermined Hamid Karzai’s embryonic
government in Kabul.
A second level at which strategic failure may take place is when different
actors have competing or inconsistent mandates. Security actors are a notori-
ous example of this—with the independence of the NATO-led Kosovo Force
(KFOR) and the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) in Afghanistan
at times undermining the authority of the international civilian presence.
Ensuring a single chain of command would be desirable, but it runs against the
received wisdom that the United Nations is incapable of waging war. A more
achievable goal would be bringing the political process into line with develop-
ment assistance. The United Nations has done this rhetorically in the term
peacebuilding,27 but without creating any capacity to focus political attention,
design policy and strategy, and oversee operations in this area. (The Peacebuild-
ing Commission is considered in the next subsection.)
As indicated by the discussion on political trajectory and ownership, inter-
national actors have sometimes been less than effective at managing expecta-
tions and relationships with national actors. Clarity about respective roles—and
about the final authority of the population in question to determine its own
future once a territory is stabilized and no longer regarded as a threat to inter-
national peace and security—would help. Where there is no existing legitimate
governance structure in place, or if there are competing structures, the con-

cept of “shadow alignment” may be helpful. This requires an assessment of
available formal and informal policies and systems that can be built on,
adapted, and reformed. The aim is to avoid a legacy of diverted institutions
that may undermine the development of legitimate and accountable struc-
tures.28
Reference to strategy should not be misunderstood as suggesting that
there is some template for governance that can be applied across cases. Instead,
clarity about the purposes of engagement and the respective responsibilities of
international and national actors provides a framework for developing a coher-
ent strategy that takes the state itself as the starting point.
Coordination and the Peacebuilding Commission

The High-Level Panel on Threats, Challenges, and Change rightly criticized
the UN experience of postconflict operations as characterized by “countless
ill-coordinated and overlapping bilateral and United Nations programs, with
inter-agency competition preventing the best use of scarce resources.”29 Its
key recommendation to remedy this situation was the call for a Peacebuilding
Commission to be established as a subsidiary organ of the UN Security Council
under Article 29 of the UN Charter.30
This new body was to have four functions. First, it would identify countries
that are under stress and risk sliding toward state collapse. Second, it would
organize, “in partnership with the national Government, proactive assistance
in preventing that process from developing further.” Third, it would assist in
the planning for transitions between conflict and postconflict peacebuilding.
Fourth, it would marshal and sustain the efforts of the international community
in postconflict peacebuilding over whatever period may be necessary. Other
guidelines mapped out institutional and procedural considerations, including
the need for the body to be small and flexible, considering both general policy
issues and country-by-country strategies. It was to include representatives of
the Security Council, the Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC), the Interna-
tional Monetary Fund and the World Bank, donor countries, troop contributors,
and regional organizations, as well as national representatives of the country
under consideration.31 A Peacebuilding Support Office would integrate system-
wide policies and strategies, develop best practices, and provide support to field
operations. Among other functions, the office would submit twice-yearly early
warning analyses to the Peacebuilding Commission to help it in organizing
its work.32
The commission was generally considered to be one of the more positive
ideas to come from the High-Level Panel and appeared likely to be adopted
by the membership of the United Nations. When the secretary general drew
on this to present his own vision of the Peacebuilding Commission in his “In
Larger Freedom” report of March 2005, he specifically removed any suggestion
of an early warning function—anticipating pressure from governments wary
that they might be precisely the ones under scrutiny.33 This essentially dropped
the first two of the High-Level Panel’s four functions, but the secretary general
elaborated on how the other two might work in practice:
A Peacebuilding Commission could perform the following func-

tions: in the immediate aftermath of war, improve United Nations
planning for sustained recovery, focusing on early efforts to establish
the necessary institutions; help to ensure predictable financing for
early recovery activities, in part by providing an overview of assessed,
voluntary and standing funding mechanisms; improve the coordina-
tion of the many post-conflict activities of the United Nations funds,
programs and agencies; provide a forum in which the United
Nations, major bilateral donors, troop contributors, relevant regional
actors and organizations, the international financial institutions and
the national or transitional Government of the country concerned
can share information about their respective post-conflict recovery
strategies, in the interests of greater coherence; periodically review
progress towards medium-term recovery goals; and extend the period
of political attention to post-conflict recovery.34
Two essential aspects of how the commission would function were left
unresolved: what its membership would be, and to whom it would report—the
Security Council or the ECOSOC. These issues ended up paralyzing debate
on the commission in the lead-up to the September 2005 World Summit and
were deferred for later consideration. The World Summit Outcome document
broadly endorsed the secretary general’s view of the Peacebuilding Commission
as essentially limited to mobilizing resources for postconflict reconstruction:
The main purpose of the Peacebuilding Commission is to bring

together all relevant actors to marshal resources and to advise on
and propose integrated strategies for post-conflict peacebuilding and
recovery. The Commission should focus attention on the reconstruc-
tion and institution-building efforts necessary for recovery from con-
flict and support the development of integrated strategies in order to
lay the foundation for sustainable development. In addition, it should
provide recommendations and information to improve the coordi-
nation of all relevant actors within and outside the United Nations,
develop best practices, help to ensure predictable financing for early
recovery activities and extend the period of attention by the interna-
tional community to post-conflict recovery.35
In one sense, the evolution of the Peacebuilding Commission is a fairly
typical example of ideas and norms being diluted as they move through the
policy and intergovernmental waters. Early warning died a fairly quick death
even before reaching the summit. A second attempt by the High-Level Panel to
strengthen early warning by creating a deputy secretary general for Peace and
Security was dropped entirely.36 The outcome document of the 2005 summit
did resolve to develop early warning systems for natural disasters, particularly
tsunamis, but early warning of manmade disasters was the subject for a more
tepid call for the international community to support the United Nations in
developing such a capability at some point in the unspecified future.37
On the postconflict responsibilities of the Peacebuilding Commission, its
role in planning and formulating strategy was more subtly undermined. The
High-Level Panel had seen it as assisting in the “planning” for the transition
from conflict to postconflict.38 The secretary general limited it to improving
“United Nations planning for sustained recovery.”39 By the summit, it was
limited to “advis[ing] on and propos[ing] integrated strategies.”40 The Peace-
building Support Office, meanwhile, did not receive the requested twenty new
staff members or any new responsibilities beyond assisting and supporting the
commission by drawing on existing resources within the Secretariat.41
The General Assembly formally established the Peacebuilding Commis-
sion on December 30, 2005. Described as an “intergovernmental advisory
body,” its standing members comprise seven members of the Security Council
(ambiguously described as “including permanent members”), seven members
of ECOSOC, five of the top providers of assessed and voluntary contributions,
five of the top troop contributors, and a further seven elected by the General
Assembly for regional balance.42 Selection of these members was predict-
ably politicized: in particular, the permanent members of the Security Coun-
cil ensured their membership, joined by Denmark and Tanzania. The seven
ECOSOC members were Angola, Belgium, Brazil, Guinea-Bissau, Indonesia,
Poland, and Sri Lanka; those from the top financial contributors to the United
Nations were Germany, Italy, Japan, the Netherlands, and Norway; those from
the top military contributors were Bangladesh, Ghana, India, Nigeria, and
Pakistan. The seven members elected by the General Assembly were Burundi
(which soon became a focus of the commission’s attention, together with Sierra
Leone), Chile, Croatia, Egypt, El Salvador, Fiji, and Jamaica.
Far from being a new Trusteeship Council, then, the Peacebuilding Com-
mission began to look more like a standing pledging conference, one of the
most important forms of coordination for donors that currently exists.43 If it
can succeed in sustaining attention on a postconflict situation beyond the cur-
rent limits of foreign policy attention deficit disorder, the commission will have
achieved a great deal. It is less clear that this additional layer of coordination
will assist in how these new resources are spent.44
Problems of coordination tend to arise at three levels: (1) the strategic level
(for example, the final status of Kosovo), (2) the operational level (for example,
competing donor agencies in Bosnia), and (3) the national level (for example,
getting international actors to sign onto a national development framework in
Afghanistan). The problem with the Peacebuilding Commission proposal is
that its establishment under the Security Council (or the ECOSOC) may see
it fall somewhere between (1) and (2)—lacking the authority to challenge the
Security Council in New York and lacking a field presence to ensure operational
cohesion on the ground. Much will, of course, depend on how the commission
functions. If it acts as an operational body that can bring key stakeholders—
importantly, including the international financial institutions, troop contributors,
donor governments, and national representatives—onto the same page in terms

of the security, humanitarian, political, and economic priorities and sequenc-
ing for a territory, it may avoid the wasted resources seen in previous opera-
tions. At the very least, if it can force the United Nations to speak with one
voice on postconflict reconstruction—rather than being represented variously
by the departments and specialized agencies—it will have achieved a signifi-
cant improvement. The key component is some body that is able to speak truth
to power: unless the commission (or the Peacebuilding Support Office) is able
to advise the Security Council against dysfunctional mandates or unrealistic
strategies, it will not fulfill its lofty aspirations.
If it is to be successful, two additional coordination dynamics need to be
addressed. The first is the problem of coordination across time. This embraces
both the conflicting timetables of internationals (diminishing interest and thus
reduced resources after eighteen to twenty-four months) and locals (increas-
ing absorptive capacity and the ability to use resources most productively only
after the crisis period has passed), as well as the tension between demands for
quick impact and gap-filling projects versus the development of sustainable
institutions. The second coordination dynamic is the emergence of local actors
as an independent political force. Consultation through an instrument such as
the Peacebuilding Commission may be helpful, but not if it complicates the
more important consultative mechanisms on the ground that manage day-to-
day political life in the postconflict territory. The most important aspect of this
second dynamic is, once again, clarity: clarity about who is in charge at any
given time, and also clarity about who will be in charge once the attention of
the international community moves on. This points to the importance of a stra-
tegic framework within which both international and national actors see their
responsibilities as complementary rather than sequential.
Evaluation and Exit Strategies

In his April 2001 report on the closure or transition of complex peacekeep-
ing operations, UN Secretary General Kofi Annan warned that the embar-
rassing withdrawal of peacekeepers from Somalia should not be repeated in
future operations. The report was called “No Exit without a Strategy.”45 For
the UN Transitional Administration in East Timor, elections provided the basis
for transfer of power to local authorities; they also set in place political proc-
esses that would last well beyond the mission and the development assistance
that followed. In Kosovo, where the UN operation was determinedly called
an interim administration, the absence of an agreed end-state has left the ter-
ritory in political limbo. Reflection on the absence of an exit strategy from
Kosovo, following on the apparently endless operation in Bosnia and Herzegovina,
led some ambassadors to the Security Council to turn the secretary general’s
phrase on its head: “no strategy,” the rallying cry went, “without an exit.”
East Timor presents two contradictory stories in the history of UN peace
operations. On one hand, it is presented as an outstanding success. In two and a
half years, a territory that had been reduced to ashes after the 1999 referendum
on independence held peaceful elections and celebrated independence. On the

other hand, however, East Timor can be seen as a series of missed opportu-
nities and waste. Of the UN Transitional Administration’s annual budget of
over $500 million, around one-tenth actually reached the East Timorese. At one
point, $27 million was spent annually on bottled water for the international
staff—approximately half the budget of the embryonic Timorese government,
and money that might have paid for water purification plants to serve both
international staff and locals well beyond the life of the mission. More could
have been done or done earlier to reconstruct public facilities. This did not hap-
pen in part because of budgetary restrictions on UN peacekeeping operations
that, to the Timorese, were not just absurd but insulting. Such problems were
compounded by coordination failures, the displacement of local initiatives by
bilateral donor activities, and the lack of any significant private sector invest-
ment. When East Timor (now Timor-Leste) became independent, it did so with
the dubious honor of becoming the poorest country in Asia.46 The outbreak of
fighting in May 2006 proved to many that warnings of an unduly abrupt with-
drawal were well founded.47
Evaluations of the UN operation in Cambodia (1992–1993) varied consid-
erably in the course of the mission and have continued to do so with the benefit
of hindsight. Prior to the 1993 election, prophecies of doom were widespread,
with questions raised about the capacity of the United Nations to complete a
large military and administrative operation.48 Immediately after the election
was held with minimal violence, Cambodia was embraced as a success and a
model for such future tasks.49 Subsequent events suggested that these initially
positive evaluations were premature. Many commentators outside the United
Nations now regard the UN Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC)
as a partial failure, pointing to the departure from democratic norms in the
1997 coup. Within the United Nations, UNTAC continues to be regarded as a
partial success. The important variable is how one views the political context
within which UNTAC operated. If the purpose of the mission was to transform
Cambodia into a multiparty liberal democracy in eighteen months, it clearly
did not succeed. If, however, one takes the view that Hun Sen—who had led
Cambodia from 1979 and later seized power from his coalition partners in a
coup four years after the 1993 elections—was always going to be the domi-
nant political force in Cambodia, and that the purpose of the mission was to
mollify the exercise of that power by introducing the language of human rights to
Cambodian civil society, fostering the establishment of a relatively free press,
and taking steps in the direction of a democratic basis for legitimate govern-
ment, the mission was indeed a partial success.
Two lessons were (or should have been) learned in Cambodia. The first was
to underscore the fragility of complex peace operations. Even though UNTAC
was, at the time, the largest and most expensive operation in UN history, it still
faced enormous difficulties in bringing about a fundamental change in the
psyche of the country. Without peace and security, and without the rule of law,
democratic processes may be unsustainable in themselves. Providing these
foundations, if it was possible at all, would have required a more sustained
commitment to remaining in Cambodia after the elections. The counterfac-

tual is speculative because there was no willingness before or after the vote for
UNTAC to remain beyond the completion of its mandate.
Second, the aftermath of the UN engagement in Cambodia—the 1997
coup, the flawed elections in 1998—began to raise questions about the relative
importance of democracy. Though it may not be directly traceable to Cambodia,
a shift began to occur in the rhetoric that saw “good governance” sometimes
replace democracy in the peacebuilding and development jargon.50
Clarity about the objectives of an operation, then, may be helpful—even if
it requires a retreat from the rhetoric that justifies the expenditure of resources
for a peace effort. Often it will not be possible (even if it were desirable) to trans-
form a country over the course of eighteen months into, say, Canada. Instead,
perhaps the most that can be hoped for is to create the conditions in which a
vulnerable population can start a conversation about what kind of country they
want theirs to be.
Conclusion
In his book In My Father’s House, Kwame Anthony Appiah notes that the apparent
ease of colonial administration generated in some of the inheritors of postcolonial
nations an illusion that control of the state would allow them to pursue as easily
their much more ambitious objectives. Once the state was turned to the tasks of
massive developments in infrastructure, however, it was shown wanting: “When
the postcolonial rulers inherited the apparatus of the colonial state, they inherited
the reins of power; few noticed, at first, that they were not attached to a bit.”51
Given the fraught history of so many of the world’s states, it is not remark-
able that some states suffer basic crises in their capacity to protect and provide
services for a population—on the contrary, it is remarkable that more do not.
As indicated in the introduction, discussion of such institutional crises fre-
quently suggests that, when a state “fails,” power is no longer exercised within
the territory. In fact, the control of power becomes more important than ever—
even though it may be exercised in an incoherent fashion.
Engagement with such states requires, first and foremost, understanding
the local dynamics of power. The much-cited Weberian definition of the state as
claimant to a monopoly of the legitimate use of force is less a definition of what
the state is than what it does. The legitimacy and sustainability of local power
structures depends, ultimately, on local actors. Certain policies can help—
channeling political power through institutions rather than individuals, and
through civilians rather than the military; imposing term limits on heads of
state and government; encouraging and regulating political parties—but their
implementation depends on the capacity of local leaders to submit themselves
to the rule of law and local populations to hold their leaders to that standard.
For international actors, a troubling analogy is to compare engagement
with weak states to previous models of trusteeship and empire. Current efforts
at state-building attempt—at least in part—to reproduce the better effects of
empire (inward investment, pacification, and impartial administration) with-

out reproducing its worst features (repression, corruption, and confiscation of
local capacity). This is not to suggest nostalgia for empire or that such poli-
cies should be resurrected. Only two generations ago, one-third of the world’s
population lived in territory considered non–self-governing; the end of colo-
nialism was one of the most significant transformations in the international
order since the emergence of sovereign states. The analogy may be helpful if it
suggests that a realistic assessment of power is necessary to formulate effective
policies rather than effective rhetoric.
States cannot be made to work from the outside. International assistance
may be necessary, but it is never sufficient to establish institutions that are
legitimate and sustainable. This is not an excuse for inaction, if only to mini-
mize the humanitarian consequences of a state’s incapacity to care for its vul-
nerable population. Beyond that, however, international action should be seen
as part of a process complementary to the creation of local processes, providing
resources and creating the space for local actors to start a conversation that
will define and consolidate their polity by mediating their vision of a good life
into responsive, robust, and resilient institutions. Strategic peacebuilding, if
it means anything, recognizes this complementarity and the need for policies
and practices that see national and international processes not as competing
and sequential but as interdependent and overlapping.
NOTES
This work draws on material discussed at greater length in Simon Chesterman, You,
The People: The United Nations, Transitional Administration, and State-Building (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2004) and Simon Chesterman, Michael Ignatieff, and
Ramesh Thakur, eds., Making States Work: State Failure and the Crisis of Governance
(Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 2005). Many of the examples cited draw on
confidential interviews conducted in Dili, Kabul, New York, Phnom Penh, Pristina,
and Sarajevo between 1999 and 2006.
1. “Supplement to An Agenda for Peace: Position Paper of the Secretary-General
on the Occasion of the Fiftieth Anniversary of the United Nations,” UN Doc A/50/
60-S/1995/1, 3 January 1995, available at http://www.un.org/Docs/SG/agsupp.html,
paras. 13–14.
2. Michael Rose, “The Bosnia Experience,” in Past Imperfect, Future Uncertain:
The United Nations at Fifty, ed. Ramesh Thakur (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1998).
3. See generally Chesterman, You, the People.
4. Massimo D’Azeglio famously expressed the difference in the context of post-
Risorgimento Italy: “We have made Italy,” he declared. “Now we must make Italians.”
On the creation of states generally, see James Crawford, The Creation of States in Inter-
national Law (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979). On nation-building, see, e.g., Benedict
Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism
(London: Verso, 1983); Ranajit Guha, ed., A Subaltern Studies Reader, 1986–1995 (Min-
neapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1997); Jim MacLaughlin, Reimagining the
Nation-State: The Contested Terrains of Nation-Building (London: Pluto Press, 2001).
5. “An Agenda for Peace: Preventive Diplomacy, Peacemaking, and Peace-keeping,”
Report of the Secretary-General pursuant to the statement adopted by the Summit
Meeting of the Security Council on January 31, 1992, UN Doc A/47/277-S/24111, June
17, 1992, available at http://www.un.org/Docs/SG/agpeace.html, para. 55.
6. “Supplement to An Agenda for Peace,” para. 49. From a UN development
perspective, peacebuilding aims “to build and enable durable peace and sustainable
development in post-conflict situations.” See, e.g., “Role of UNDP in Crisis and Post-
Conflict Situations,” Policy Paper Distributed to the Executive Board of the United
Nations Development Programme and of the United Nations Population Fund,
DP/2001/4, UNDP, New York, November 27, 2000, available at http://www.undp.org,
para. 51. The Development Assistance Committee of the Organisation for Economic
Co-operation and Development (OECD) maintains that peacebuilding and reconcilia-
tion focuses “on long-term support to, and establishment of, viable political and socio-
economic and cultural institutions capable of addressing the root causes of conflicts,
as well as other initiatives aimed at creating the necessary conditions for sustained
peace and stability”: OECD, Helping Prevent Violent Conflict, Development Assistance
Committee Guidelines (Paris: OECD, 2001), available at http://www.oecd.org, 86.
7. Elizabeth M. Cousens, “Introduction,” in Peacebuilding as Politics, eds. Elizabeth
M. Cousens and Chetan Kumar, A Project of the International Peace Academy (Boul-
der, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 2001), 5–10.
8. See “Strengthening of the United Nations: An Agenda for Further Change,”
UN Doc A/57/150, September 9, 2002, para. 126: “To strengthen further the Secretar-
iat’s work in international peace and security, there is a need to bring a sharper defini-
tion to the existing lead department policy, which sets out the relationship between the
Department of Political Affairs and the Department of Peacekeeping Operations. The
Department of Political Affairs will increase its focus in the fields of preventive diplo-
macy, conflict prevention and peacemaking. The Department will also intensify its
engagement in policy formulation across the full spectrum of the Secretariat’s tasks in
the domain of international peace and security. It will continue to be the lead depart-
ment for political and peace-building offices in the field. The Department of Peace-
keeping Operations will be the lead department for the planning and management of
all peace and security operations in the field, including those in which the majority of
personnel are civilians.”
9. GA Res 60/180 (2005), para. 2(a).
10. See, e.g., Richard Caplan, International Governance of War-Torn Territories:
Rule and Reconstruction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005); Roland Paris, At
War’s End: Building Peace after Civil Conflict (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2004).
11. See further Simon Chesterman, “Ownership in Theory and in Practice: Transfer
of Authority in UN State-Building Operations,” Journal of Intervention and State-Build-
ing 1, no. 1 (2007).
12. Nicholas Wood, “Serbs Criticize UN Mediator, Further Bogging Down Kosovo
Talks,” New York Times, September 2, 2006.
13. International Crisis Group, “Bosnia: Reshaping the International Machinery”
(Sarajevo/Brussels, November 29, 2001), available at http://www.crisisgroup.org,13.
14. See further Chesterman, “Ownership.”
15. Michael W. Doyle, “War-Making and Peace-Making: The United Nations’ Post-
Cold War Record,” in Turbulent Peace: The Challenges of Managing International Conflict,
eds. Chester A. Crocker, Fen Osler Hampson, and Pamela Aall (Washington, D.C.:
U.S. Institute of Peace Press, 2001), 546.
16. Eric Schmitt, “Pentagon Contradicts General on Iraq Occupation Force’s
Size,” New York Times, February 28, 2003.
17. UN envoy James Baker is said to have been asked once by Polisario rep-
resentatives why the United Nations was treating Western Sahara differently from
East Timor. He replied to the effect that if the Sahrawis wanted to be treated like the
Timorese, they had best go find themselves an Australia to lead a military action on
their behalf.
18. Paul Krugman, “The Martial Plan,” New York Times, February 21, 2003; James
G. Lakely, “Levin Criticizes Budget for Afghanistan; Says White House Isn’t Devoting
Enough to Rebuilding,” Washington Times, February 26, 2003. Aid was later increased
further: David Rohde, “US Said to Plan Bigger Afghan Effort, Stepping Up Aid,” New
York Times, August 25, 2003.
19. See, e.g., International Crisis Group, “Bosnia’s Precarious Economy: Still
Not Open for Business” (Sarajevo/Brussels, August 7, 2001), available at http://www.
crisisgroup.org.
20. Scott Shane and Raymond Bonner, “Annan Nudges Donors to Make Good on
Full Pledges,” New York Times, January 7, 2005.
21. “Report of the Independent Inquiry into the Actions of the United Nations
during the 1994 Genocide in Rwanda,” UN Doc S/1999/1257, December 15, 1999,
available at http://www.un.org/Docs/journal/asp/ws.asp?m=S/1999/1257, 51; “Report
of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations” (Brahimi Report), UN Doc A/55/3-
05-S/2000/809, August 21, 2000, available at http://www.un.org/peace/reports/peace_
operations, para. 62.
22. Brahimi Report, para. 59.
23. International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty, The Respon-
sibility to Protect (Ottawa: International Development Research Centre, December
2001), available at http://www.iciss.ca, paras. 2.32, 5.1–5.6.
24. See James Dobbins et al., America’s Role in Nation-Building: From Germany to
Iraq (Santa Monica, Calif.: RAND, 2003), 160–166.
25. See generally Shepard Forman and Stewart Patrick, eds., Good Intentions:
Pledges of Aid for Postconflict Recovery (Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 2000).
26. Brahimi Report, paras. 9–83.
27. See note 5.
28. “Achieving the Health Millennium Development Goals in Fragile States,”
High-Level Forum on the Health MDGs, Abuja December 2004, available at http://
www.hlfhealthmdgs.org/Documents/FragileStates.pdf, 21.
29. “A More Secure World: Our Shared Responsibility,” Report of the High-Level
Panel on Threats, Challenges, and Change, UN Doc A/59/565, December 1, 2004,
available at http://www.un.org/secureworld, para. 38.
30. Ibid., paras. 261–265.
31. Ibid., paras. 264–265.
32. Ibid., paras. 266–267.
33. “In Larger Freedom: Towards Development, Security, and Human Rights for
All,” UN Doc A/59/2005, March 21, 2005, available at http://www.un.org/largerfree-
dom, para. 115.
34. Ibid., para. 115.
35. “2005 World Summit Outcome Document,” UN Doc A/RES/60/1, September
16, 2005, available at http://www.un.org/summit2005, para. 98.
36. “High-Level Panel Report,” paras. 98, 293–294.
37. “World Summit Outcome Document,” paras. 56(f), 138.
38. “High-Level Panel Report,” para. 264.
39. “In Larger Freedom,” para. 115.
40. “World Summit Outcome Document,” para. 98.

41. Ibid., para. 104.
42. GA Res 60/180 (December 30, 2005), paras. 1, 4.
43. Stewart Patrick, “The Donor Community and the Challenge of Postconflict
Recovery,” in Good Intentions: Pledges of Aid for Postconflict Recovery, eds. Shepard
Forman and Stewart Patrick (Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 2000), 40–41. In the
absence of funds that can be disbursed quickly to a recovery process, significant
external resources typically arrive only after such a conference, which brings donor
states, UN agencies, and the international financial institutions together with local
representatives to evaluate proposed reconstruction plans. The relative transparency
of these meetings reduces the temptation of donors to free ride on the efforts of oth-
ers. More subtly, by involving disparate actors in providing support for postconflict
recovery as a form of public good, the pledging conference encourages the notion of a
“donor community,” bound by certain ethical obligations toward the recovering state.
Pledging conferences also enable donors to shape and publicize recovery plans jointly,
which may increase domestic support for foreign assistance as part of an international
effort. For recipients, pledging conferences offer the opportunity to focus the minds
of donors on a crisis and gain public assurances that some of their needs will be
met. While these aspects are positive, pledging conferences often bear the trappings
of political theater. Donors may make grand gestures that in reality double-count
resources previously committed to a country or that cannot be delivered promptly. In
addition, mediating different donor interests through a conference does not remove
the problems caused by the inconsistency of those interests. Donors continue to avoid
controversial areas like security sector reform, preferring to fund items that will gain
recognition and prestige. Finally, despite the public nature of the pledges made, there
is no consistent monitoring process to ensure that pledges are realistic and transparent.
44. See further Simon Chesterman, “From State Failure to State Building:
Problems and Prospects of a United Nations Peacebuilding Commission,” Journal of
International Law and International Relations 2 (2006).
45. “No Exit Without Strategy: Security Council Decision-Making and the Closure
or Transition of United Nations Peacekeeping Operations,” Report of the Secretary
General, UN Doc S/2001/394, April 20, 2001.
46. “Getting Ready for Statehood,” Economist (London), April 13, 2002.
47. “UN Prepares to Start a New Peacekeeping Mission in East Timor,” New York
Times, June 14, 2006.
48. See, e.g., William Branigin, “UN Performance at Issue as Cambodian Vote
Nears,” Washington Post, May 20, 1993.
49. “A UN Success in Cambodia,” Washington Post, June 18, 1993.
50. “Good governance” was an intentionally vague term that spoke less to the
formal structures of government than how a state is governed. The term governance
itself emerged within the development discourse in the 1990s as a means of expand-
ing the prescriptions of donors to embrace not only projects and structural adjustment
but government policies. Though intergovernmental organizations like the World
Bank and the International Monetary Fund are technically constrained from referring
to political processes as such, “governance” provides a convenient euphemism for
precisely that. See, e.g., Goran Hyden, “Governance and the Reconstitution of Political
Order,” in State, Conflict and Democracy in Africa, ed. Richard Joseph (Boulder, Colo.:
Lynne Rienner, 1999).
51. Kwame Anthony Appiah, In My Father’s House: Africa in the Philosophy of
Culture (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 266.
6
How Strategic Is UN
Peacebuilding?
Nicholas Sambanis
Today United Nations peacekeeping is the multidimensional

management of a complex peace operation, usually following the
termination of a civil war, designed to provide interim security and
assist parties to make those institutional, material, and ideational
transformations that are essential to make peace sustainable. That
is a new role for the UN. UN peace operations during the Cold War
were more limited and focused on monitoring or policing the
adherence to a truce by hostile parties.
This new, expanded role for the UN represents an effort to respond
to complex new challenges to international security that emerged since
the end of the Cold War. An explosion of new internal armed conflicts
led to a similar explosion in UN peacekeeping missions in the
mid-1990s. The new perspective on how to build sustainable peace
after civil war is embodied in two landmark reports—the Brahimi and
“No Exit without Strategy” Reports of 2000 and 2001, which built on
Secretary General Boutros Boutros-Ghali’s 1992 report Agenda for Peace
and its 1995 Supplement. Although the UN has been generally effective
in its new role, important and highly publicized failures have generated
policy debates on how to improve their peacebuilding capacity.
This chapter engages with those policy debates by considering
whether the UN peace missions are sufficiently strategic. Strategic
peacebuilding is a concept best described by a set of complementary
practices that are all aimed at achieving self-sustaining peace. Strategy
is necessary because the desired goals of multidimensional peace
operations are complex and extend beyond achieving the absence of
armed conflict. Strategic peacebuilding involves a blend of several
intervention practices, including mediation, observation, policing,
tactical enforcement, conflict resolution, humanitarian assistance, reconstruction,

and institutional transformation—all helping create sustainable peace.
Much criticism of UN peace missions is based on a claim that peacebuild-
ing goals are not sufficiently adaptive to local contexts and interventions by
different actors sometimes have conflicting effects. Strategic peacebuilding
should address those issues. Different intervention practices are interdepend-
ent in complex ways. Whereas one form of intervention may help shore up the
foundations for another intervention strategy, the two together may work bet-
ter, or in some cases, they may work well only if they are properly sequenced.
Appropriate standards of peacebuilding success may also vary by context and
the proximity to the war. If the goal of peacebuilding intervention is social jus-
tice and political inclusion, then best practices will be different than in cases
where the goal of peacebuilding intervention is simply the absence of war.
For any conflict situation, “sustainable peace” is the best measure of success-
ful peacekeeping. Successful and unsuccessful efforts to achieve that measure
are influenced by three key factors that characterize the environment of the post-
war civil peace: the degree of hostility of the factions, the extent of local capacities
remaining after the war, and the amount of international assistance provided.
Together, these three constitute the interdependent logic of a “peacebuilding
triangle”: the deeper the hostility, the more the destruction of local capacities,
the more you need international assistance to succeed in establishing a stable
peace. This chapter explains how each of those dimensions affects the nature of
the postwar challenge and highlights the need to foster fast return to economic
growth in postconflict societies to generate private incentives for peace.
The UN is not good at fighting wars, and the effects of UN peace missions
are felt more with respect to what we might call participatory peace—a peace
that includes not only the absence of war but also restoration of the state’s sov-
ereignty over all of its territory and some degree of political openness. Resolving
problems of divided sovereignty is an essential part of state-building that the UN
or other peacebuilding actors cannot afford to ignore. UN missions can have
positive and lasting effects by keeping the peace in the early stages of the peace
process, when risks of a return to war are greatest. They can also have lasting
effects if they help set the foundations for political institutions that sustain the
peace in the long run. Over time, however, economic growth and development
are the critical determinants of a low risk of return to civil war. The peacebuilding
literature has not yet identified lessons or best practices to facilitate a closer con-
nection between UN peacekeeping and strategies for postwar economic recon-
struction and development. I address this issue by establishing the importance
of postwar economic growth for sustainable peace and by considering some of
the complexities that arise in trying to coordinate peacebuilding strategies.
Evolving Standards of Peace Interventions
In the early 1990s with the end of the Cold War, the UN agenda for peace and
security rapidly expanded. At the request of the Security Council Summit of
HOW STRATEGIC IS UN PEACEBUILDING? 143
January 1992, Secretary General Boutros-Ghali prepared the conceptual founda-

tions of an ambitious UN role in peace and security in his seminal report, An
Agenda for Peace.1 In addition to preventive diplomacy designed to head off con-
flicts before they became violent, the secretary general outlined the four intercon-
nected roles that he hoped the UN would play in the post–Cold War international
politics: peace enforcement, peacemaking, peacekeeping, and postconflict recon-
struction.2 Together, these strategies would offer the muscle, diplomacy, and
technical expertise necessary for rebuilding peace after civil war.
An Agenda for Peace was the culmination of an evolution of UN doctrine and
suggests a role for the organization that is very different from the one initially
envisaged in first-generation peacekeeping, where blue helmets would simply
be interposed between forces after a truce had been reached and the UN’s role
was designed more to contain conflicts from spreading to other countries than
to transform societies so that new conflicts within those societies would be less
likely to occur.3
The best peacekeeping practices of impartiality and neutrality were devel-
oped with the old model in mind, and new, more flexible ways of interacting
with the parties became necessary as peacebuilding roles evolved. Impartiality
and neutrality are frequently used interchangeably. Scholars and practitioners
often speak of peacekeepers as “neutral,” “disinterested,” “impartial,” or “unbi-
ased”; they tend to mistake the need for impartiality with a policy of “strict
neutrality” and a disposition of passivity. Neutrality should instead be defined
as a synonym for noninterference with respect to peacekeeping outcomes
and impartiality as equal enforcement of unbiased rules. It is as important for
peacekeepers to be impartial concerning, for example, which party in a freely
conducted democratic election wins the election as it is for them to be nonneu-
tral (i.e., not passive) with respect to violations of the peace and obstructions to
their ability to implement their mandate.
This is closely related to the interpretation of another key principle of UN
peacekeeping—the nonuse of force. Peacekeeping uses soldiers not to win
wars but to preserve the peace. Peacekeepers must also be able to protect their
right to discharge their functions, in accordance with the spirit of the parties’
initial consent. Emphatic avoidance of the use of force can only limit the peace-
keepers’ impact on the ground. But use of force must be limited to protect a
mandate authorized by a peace treaty or ceasefire (as happened in Cyprus in
1974, or Namibia in 1989). If peacekeepers find that their role is turning to
war-fighting, then the limits of UN involvement have likely been reached, and
the peacekeepers must withdraw.
Beyond monitoring and interposition of forces, the key strategy of UN mis-
sions today is to foster economic and social cooperation with the purpose of
building confidence among previously warring parties. The UN can do this by
helping develop the social, political, and economic infrastructure that is neces-
sary to prevent future violence. This multidimensional peacekeeping is aimed
at capacities expansion (mainly through economic reconstruction) and insti-
tutional transformation (for example, reform of the police, army, and judicial
system, elections, civil society rebuilding).
The UN has a commendable record of success, ranging from mixed to

transformative, in multidimensional peace operations as diverse as those in
Namibia, El Salvador, Cambodia, Mozambique, and Eastern Slavonia.4 The UN
role in helping settle those conflicts has been fourfold. It served as a peace-
maker, facilitating a peace treaty among the parties; as a peacekeeper, monitor-
ing the cantonment and demobilization of military forces, resettling refugees,
and supervising transitional civilian authorities; as a peacebuilder, monitoring
and in some cases organizing the implementation of human rights, national
democratic elections, and economic rehabilitation; and in a very limited way as
peace enforcer when the agreements came unstuck.
The rationale behind these operations is that the roots of the conflict must
be addressed to build foundations for stable, legitimate government. This is
not the only way to peace, however. A lesson learned—or at least suggested—
by recent literature on civil war is that large-scale armed conflict can be pre-
vented effectively by boosting the government’s counterinsurgency capacity.5 If
rebellion is not feasible, then peace can be achieved. Possibly the cost to such
a strategy is the perpetuation of repressive regimes, and this understanding of
peace is antithetical to the standards currently used by the United Nations and
other international agencies involved in peacebuilding.
What Constitutes a Peacebuilding Success?
Peace can be thought of as a continuum, ranging from no peace (war) to nega-

tive peace (absence of war) to social harmony.6 Social harmony is an elusive
goal for most societies. What standard of peace should be the goal for societies
emerging from civil war? Michael Doyle and I in our joint work have argued
that negative peace does not reflect what is needed for peace to be self-sustain-
ing in troubled societies. Rather, we propose a standard of participatory peace
that combines the absence of war with an end to lower level violence and mass
human rights violations, restoration of sovereignty of the state, and a modest
standard of political openness.7
By this definition, peacebuilding success is not very common. In the post-
1945 period, there have been eighty-four failures and thirty-seven successes of
participatory peace two years after the end of a civil war.
Participatory peace is meaningful if it can be sustained after the peace-
keepers leave. This corresponds with extensive discussions in the United
Nations Security Council in which “sustainable peace” was proposed as the
ultimate purpose of all peace operations, and sustainability was defined as
the capacity for a sovereign state to resolve the natural conflicts to which
all societies are prone by means other than war (S/2001/394). “Peace-
building,” the report noted, “is an attempt, after a peace has been negoti-
ated or imposed, to address the sources of present hostility and build local
capacities for conflict resolution.” Thus, for example, few observers think
that peace has been successfully built in Kosovo today, even though Kosovo
is not at war. NATO forces militarily separate the resident Kosovars and
HOW STRATEGIC IS UN PEACEBUILDING ? 145
Serbs and deter both a potential attack from Belgrade to reunify the breaka-
way province and a potential declaration of formal independence by the
Kosovars.
How Can Participatory Peace Be Achieved?
In Making War and Building Peace, Michael Doyle and I evaluate the conditions
under which participatory peace can be attained in the short term—two to five
years after the end of a civil war. We propose a simple model in which peace-
building outcomes are shaped by three dimensions—local capacities, postwar
hostility, and international capacities. The deeper the hostility and the lower the
local capacities for peace, the easier it is for war to resume and the more exten-
sive the need for international capacities for peace. To test our model empiri-
cally, we use a number of measures for these three dimensions, drawing on
common sense and the literature on civil war for possible measures.
Hostility is measured by the number of deaths and displacements, the
number of factions, the signing of a peace treaty, the type of war (distinguish-
ing ethnoreligious wars from all others), the level of ethnic fractionalization,
and war duration.8 Ethnoreligious wars, high ethnic fractionalization, absence
of a peace treaty, many factions, long wars, and high numbers of deaths and
displacements should all make peacebuilding harder.
We measure local capacities with country-level indicators of socioeconomic
development, such as electricity consumption per capita, real per capita income,
and the annual rate of change in real per capita income.9 Higher levels of eco-
nomic development should increase the likelihood of peacebuilding success
because they provide private incentives for people to keep the peace. We also
measure the degree of an economy’s dependence on natural resources. Heavy
reliance on natural resources reduces the likelihood of peacebuilding success
because it makes the economy more susceptible to external price shocks and
because resource-rich economies have been associated with corrupt political
institutions.10 Local capacities are measures of institutional quality and of the
economic opportunity costs of returning to war: higher capacities imply higher
opportunity costs and better institutions, hence, a better chance of building
peace.
The most important measure of international capacities for our study is
the presence and mandate of UN peace operations. Mandates measure the
mission’s strength, its technical and military capabilities, and the level of
international commitment. Mandates are classified into observer missions (in
which civilian officials or military officers monitor a truce or treaty), traditional
peacekeeping (in which formed military units monitor a truce or treaty), mul-
tidimensional peacekeeping (in which a peace treaty authorizes international
civilian officials and military units to help build or rebuild political, economic,
and social institutions), and enforcement missions with or without transitional
administration (in which, in the absence of consent, international military
forces intervene to impose peace). We can also capture all UN missions with
a binary variable denoting any UN intervention and also separate facilitative

missions that basically offer monitoring and reporting (observer and traditional
peacekeeping operations [PKOs]) from transformational UN missions that
have a more intrusive mandate (multidimensional and enforcement). Another
distinction could be between consent-based missions authorized under Chap-
ter VI of the UN Charter and enforcement missions.
Another obvious measure of international capacities is foreign economic
assistance. Measuring the amount of economic assistance available to all coun-
tries from all sources (bilateral, nongovernmental organization [NGO], multi-
lateral) is too difficult, so we use instead the amount of net current transfers per
capita to the balance of payments of the country.
The results for the short-term participatory peace model are presented in
detail elsewhere (see Doyle and Sambanis, 2006). Briefly, the data lend support
to the model, and we find evidence for the expected relationships between par-
ticipatory peace and the explanatory variables mentioned, though not all results
are equally robust. Table 6.1 summarizes those results by presenting estimates
of changes to the probability of success in participatory peace in the short run
as a result of changes in each of the explanatory variables in the model. Table
6.1 gives a sense of the relative importance of each explanatory variable. The
one result we found to be very robust is that UN missions are extremely impor-
tant for participatory peacebuilding in the short run.
The importance of the UN diminishes as we turn to narrower concepts
of peacebuilding, such as the absence of war. I present some of these results
in a later section, where I also turn to the longer term effects of UN mis-
sions. First, I return to the question of whether UN missions are sufficiently
strategic.
TABLE 6.1. Estimates of Changes to the Probability of Peacebuilding Success Two Years
after the End of the War in the Doyle-Sambanis Model of Participatory Peace
as a Result of Changes to the Explanatory Variables
Mean change in the 95% Confidence

probability of success interval As a result of the following change
–0.364 –0.563 to –0.157 War type (from nonethnic to ethnic)

–0.074 –0.151 to –0.013 Deaths amd displacements (from 40th to
60th percentile)
–0.103 –0.212 to –0.024 Number of factions (from 3 to 4)
0.0066 0.0023 to 0.0121 Net current transfers (from 40th to 60th
percentile)
0.359 0.093 to 0.554 UN mandate (from facilitative to
transformational)
0.324 0.03 to 0.61 Treaty (from 0 to 1)
0.012 –0.002 to 0.028 Development level (from 40th to 60th
percentile)
–0.05 –0.083 to –0.018 Primary commodity dependence (from
40th to 60th percentile)
Strategic Peacekeeping
The extent to which root causes can be addressed adequately depends on avail-
able resources and on the design of an appropriate mandate. Does the UN
have the capacity, internal coherence, and resources needed to field sufficiently
strategic peacekeeping missions?
The first concern of strategic peacekeeping is to properly identify the type
of conflict underlying the civil war so as to design appropriate intervention
strategies. Political scientists have explored a wide range of theories about why
and how parties enter into and resolve various kinds of conflicts. At the more
abstract level, “neoliberal” theories explore conflicts among rational actors over
absolute goods valued for their own sakes. “Neorealists” examine conflicts
among rational actors that raise issues of security and relative gains, based on
the assumption that relative power (dominance) alone provides security and
therefore the gains that truly matter. “Constructivists” relax the assumption
that perceived identities and interests are fixed and explore the circumstances
in which conflicts and social relations more generally constitute and then
reshape identities and interests.11 Aspects of each of these factors can be found
in the peacekeeping record that Doyle and I examined in our joint research.
Factions and their leaders seek absolute advantages as well as relative advan-
tages. Sometimes, international actors assist the peace process by eliminating
old actors (war criminals, factional armies), introducing new actors (domestic
voters, political parties, international monitors, NGOs), fostering changes of
identity (reconciliation), or by all three methods together. A more informative
analytic lens portrays the peace process through two classic game situations,
coordination and cooperation, each of which incorporates neoliberal, neorealist
and constructivist dynamics.
Thus, to simplify, conflicts can be over coordination or cooperation,
depending on the structure of the parties’ preferences over possible outcomes
of the negotiations. Each preference structure characterizes a specific type of
conflict, and different intervention strategies are optimal for different conflict
types. Some conflicts are mixed, reflecting elements of both, and conflicts do
change over time, evolving from one to the other and sometimes back again.12
Well-chosen strategies can maximize the available space for peace, whereas
strategies that are poorly matched to the conflict at a particular time can reduce
the space for peace.
Basic game theory has clearly established that coordination problems have
a payoff structure that gives the parties no incentives to violate agreements.13
The best strategy to resolve coordination problems is information provision
and improvement of the level of communication between the parties.14 Com-
munication gives the parties the ability to form common conjectures about
the likely outcomes of their actions.15 By contrast, cooperation problems cre-
ate incentives to renege on agreements, particularly if the parties discount the
benefits of long-term cooperation in favor of short-run gain. In one-shot games
of cooperation (of which the prisoner’s dilemma is a well-known example), the
parties will try to trick their adversaries into cooperating while they renege on
their promises. These structural differences between cooperation and coordi-
nation problems imply that different peacekeeping strategies should be used
in each case.
Figure 6.1 suggests that different strategies are needed to resolve differ-
ent types of problems. Transformational peacekeeping or enforcement with
considerable international authority are needed to resolve cooperation prob-
lems, whereas facilitative peacekeeping, such as monitoring and interposition
of troops are sufficient to resolve coordination problems. Facilitative peace-
keeping has no enforcement or deterrence function. Transformational peace-
keeping can increase the costs of noncooperation for the parties and provide
positive inducements by helping rebuild the country and restructure institu-
tions so that they can support the peace. Enforcement may be necessary to
resolve the toughest cooperation problems.16 Not all civil war transitions are
plagued by cooperation problems. Some wars resemble coordination issues,
whereas frequently, we find both types of problems, in which case intervention
strategies must be carefully combined or sequenced.
How can peacekeeping have an impact? The literature suggests that peace-
keepers can change the costs and benefits of cooperation by virtue of the legiti-
macy of their UN mandate, which induces the parties to cooperate; by their
ability to focus international attention on noncooperative parties and condemn
transgressions; by monitoring and reporting on the parties’ compliance with
agreements; and by their function as a trip-wire that would force aggressors to
go through the UN troops to change the military status quo.
Ultimate success, however, may depend less on changing incentives for
existing parties within their preferences and more on transforming preferences
—and even the parties themselves—and thus turning a cooperation problem
into a coordination problem. The institution-building aspects of peacekeeping
are therefore a revolutionary transformation in which voters and politicians
replace soldiers and generals; armies become parties; war economies become
peace economies. Reconciliation, when achieved, is a label for these changed
preferences and capacities.17
FIGURE 6.1. Matching Problem Type and Strategy Type.

To be sure, the difficulty of a transformative strategy cannot be overesti-

mated. Most societies even after war look a great deal like they did prewar. But,
for example, if those that have committed the worst war crimes can be pros-
ecuted, locked up, and thus removed from power, the prospects of peace rise.
The various factions can begin to individualize rather than collectivize their
distrust and hostility, and at the minimum, the worst individuals are no longer
in control.18 Here, initiatives that foster hybrid (local-national-international)
institutions can have an important effect by engaging local actors in the peace-
building process and ensuring that reforms are not imposed top-down.19
Even where enforcement is used at the outset, the peace must eventually
become self-sustaining. Consensual peace agreements can rapidly erode,
forcing all the parties to adjust to the strategies of “spoilers.” Their success or
lack of success of doing so tends to be decisive in whether a sustainable peace
follows.
How can the peacekeepers know what type of conflict they are facing? A
first clue is the peace treaty. If a treaty has been signed that outlines a postwar
settlement, then the parties’ preferences have been revealed to some extent
(though the fact that some peace treaties are quickly undermined also means
that only by observing the parties’ compliance with the treaty can we be more
certain about their true preferences). Patterns of compliance with the treaty
can help distinguish moderates from extremists. In other cases, such knowl-
edge cannot be attained until the first (or several) encounters with the parties.
Where a treaty is not in place, all parties can be assumed to be spoilers, and
strong peacekeeping must be used. Subsequent cooperation or conflict with
the peacekeepers can help distinguish those parties who respond to induce-
ments from those who are committed to a strategy of war. This also means that
UN missions must be flexible to adjust their mandate given observations of
cooperation or conflict on the ground and based on the peacekeepers’ changing
assessments about the nature of the conflict.
A treaty is usually the outcome of a “mutually hurting stalemate,” which
is a necessary (but not sufficient) condition for successful peace.20 Such a
stalemate exists when the status quo is not the preferred option for any fac-
tion, while overturning the status quo through military action is unlikely to
be successful. This condition pushes parties to the negotiating table, and their
declared preferences for peace are more credible as a result of their inability to
forcibly achieve a better outcome.21
However, the parties will not negotiate a settlement unless peace is likely
to generate higher rewards than continued fighting. This condition becomes
unattainable if “spoilers” are present. Spoilers are leaders or parties whose vital
interests are threatened by peace implementation.22 These parties will under-
mine the agreement and reduce the expected utility of a negotiated settlement
for all parties. In terms of our previous arguments, the presence of spoilers
implies the “payoff structure” of a prisoner’s dilemma or assurance game
because spoilers will not coordinate their strategies with moderates. Thus, if
spoilers are present in a peace process, peacekeepers can only keep the peace
if they can exercise some degree of enforcement by targeting the spoilers and
preventing them from undermining the negotiations. The dynamics of spoiler

problems deserve a closer look.
Spoiler problems were first systematically analyzed by Stephen Stedman,
who identified three types—total, greedy, and limited—according to their
strategies and likely impact on the peace implementation process. These are
behavioral types, and Stedman defines them in terms of their preferences over
the strategies they use to undermine the peace. However, all parties can act as
total spoilers if conditions deteriorate markedly. Parties whose ultimate goals
over the outcomes of the peace are more moderate will have incentives not to
spoil the peace process if they can get a reasonable outcome. The difficulty
facing the peacekeepers is to distinguish moderates from extremists, or total
spoilers, when conditions are such as to encourage all parties to defect from
agreements.
The principal gain of good UN peacekeeping will be to allow moderates—
limited spoilers with specific stakes—and greedy opportunists to act like peace-
makers in the peace process without fearing reprisals from total spoilers, who
are unalterably opposed to the peace settlement. Effective strategies must com-
bine consent from those willing to coordinate and cooperate with coercive car-
rots and sticks directed at those who are not. The empirical record suggests
that strategically combining peacemaking, peacekeeping, reconstruction, and
enforcement is a valuable way the UN and other international organizations
can help shore up the foundations of a lasting peace.
To have such a positive effect, getting the mandate right is critically impor-
tant for any UN mission. It is not sufficient for the UN to send large numbers
of troops to the field, if those troops are not given the rules of engagement
and mandate to make peace. The number of peacekeeping troops alone is not
a good predictor of peacebuilding success.23 We show in our supplement that
there is no statistically significant difference in the number of peacekeeping
troops per square kilometer in transformational missions compared with facili-
tative missions. Thus, it is not the case that transformational peacekeeping
works better because there is more concentrated force.24 This also indicates
that the Security Council often underfunds and underresources transforma-
tional missions because they should, on average, have more troops to deal with
more difficult peacebuilding ecologies.
Moreover, the effects of peacekeeping troops per square kilometer on the
probability of participatory peace success are negative (though nonsignifi-
cant).25 This might seem jarring, but it is actually consistent with our theory. A
large troop deployment with a weak mandate is a sure sign of lack of commit-
ment by the Security Council and creates an impediment for effective interven-
tion. This result is influenced by one observation—Rwanda—where there was
a large troop deployment (in per capita terms) with no authority to intervene to
stop the violence. Large numbers of troops per capita in monitoring missions
(observer missions and traditional PKOs) actually reduce the chance of peace-
building success (examples are Cyprus, Lebanon, Rwanda). Such deployments
are inefficient and potentially counterproductive. The large troop deployment
with a narrow mandate in monitoring operations indicates, on one hand, that
the Security Council recognizes the severity of the conflict and, on the other
hand, that it is unwilling or unable to give those troops an adequate mandate to
resolve the conflict. Thus, there is often a mismatch between the problem and
the treatment—better targeted mandates should improve the effectiveness of
UN missions. There is room for improvement in the design of strategic mis-
sions in the UN.
Related to this discussion is the empirical result, reported in Doyle and
Sambanis (2006), that observer missions have been more effective than tra-
ditional peacekeeping. Traditional peacekeeping is used in cases that are not
as ripe for resolution as those where the UN dispatches monitors to verify the
implementation of a peace agreement. But the effectiveness of observer mis-
sions is not enough to suggest that the UN is good at detecting a “coordination
type” of problem. Many of the cases where traditional peacekeeping is used are
too complex and the conflict remains unresolved. The mismatch between the
underlying peacebuilding ecology and the type of treatment in the cases where
traditional peacekeeping is used might suggest an inability to fully assess the
factions’ preferences, or it might indicate that in many cases there is just not
sufficient political will to address difficult peacebuilding challenges.
Indeed, if we look at the average levels of the explanatory variables in Doyle
and Sambanis that have a negative effect on the probability of peacebuilding
success (ethnic war, deaths and displacements, primary commodity exports),
we see that they are higher in cases where traditional peacekeeping was used
as compared to cases where observer missions were used. By contrast, the aver-
ages of variables that have a positive influence on peacebuilding (transfers and
development level) are lower. Hence, the cases where traditional peacekeeping
was used were harder to resolve, but the type of UN “treatment” was not much
different. This could help explain the higher failure rate of traditional peace-
keeping.
At the same time, there is no clear evidence that the peacebuilding ecology
is harder in cases where transformational UN peacekeeping is used. On the one
hand, transformational UN missions are sent less frequently to ethnic wars,
more frequently to cases where there is a peace treaty, and more frequently
to countries where primary commodity exports are a smaller percentage of
the economy. This might explain the higher success rate of those missions.
On the other hand, transformational UN peacekeeping is used more in cases
with higher levels of deaths and displacements, more factions, and much lower
levels of economic development levels and net current transfers, all of which
should lower the probability of peacebuilding success. Thus, what we see is
that the peacebuilding ecology does not differ markedly in cases where facilita-
tive as opposed to transformational peacekeeping is used, which points to an
absence of clear strategy in the design of UN peace missions.26
UN responses are not always well calibrated to peacebuilding challenges.
The UN seems to respond with the right mandate in those cases where it
dispatches monitors and where it sends transformational UN peacekeeping
missions, but in some of the cases where it may be using the wrong mix of
resources and mandate, it dispatches traditional peacekeeping missions. Or,
more plausibly, traditional peacekeeping in the context of civil wars is a stop-

gap measure, sent to help contain or moderate but not cure a conflict. When
the great powers and the Security Council are not prepared to confront the
true dimensions of a conflict and send an enforcement mission, lightly armed
peacekeepers are too often sent to places such as the former Yugoslavia where,
in the words of one UN official, “there is no peace to keep.”27
How Can the UN Be More Strategic?
Effective transitional strategy must take into account levels of hostility and fac-
tional capacities. Whether it in fact does so depends on strategic design and
international commitment. Designs for transitions incorporate a mix of legal
and bureaucratic capacities that integrate in a variety of ways domestic and
international commitments.
Important lessons can already be drawn from efforts to establish effective
transitional authority.28 First, a holistic approach is necessary to deal with the
character of factional conflicts and civil wars. Successful exercises of author-
ity require a coordinated approach that draws in elements of “peacemaking”
(negotiations), peacekeeping (monitoring), peacebuilding, reconstruction, and
discrete acts of enforcement, when needed, to create a holistic strategy of rec-
onciliation.29
Transitional strategies should first address the local causes of continu-
ing conflict and, second, the local capacities for change. Effective transitional
authority is the residual dimension that compensates for local deficiencies and
the continuing hostility of the factions—the (net) specific degree of interna-
tional commitment available to assist change.
Local root causes, domestic capacity, and effective transitional authority
are three dimensions of a triangle whose area is the “political space”—or effec-
tive capacity—for building peace. This metaphor suggests that some quantum
of positive support is needed along each dimension but that the dimensions
also substitute for each other—more of one substitutes for less of another, less
deeply rooted causes of war substitute for weak local capacity or minor interna-
tional commitment. In a world where each dimension is finite, we can expect,
first, that compromises will be necessary to achieve peacekeeping; second, that
the international role must be designed to fit each case; and, third, that self-
sustaining peace is not only the right aim, it is the practically necessary aim of
building peace when the international community is not prepared to commit
to long-term assistance.
International peace operation mandates must take into account the char-
acteristics of the factions and whether the parties are prepared to coordinate
or must be persuaded or coerced into cooperation. These mandates operate
not on stable states but, instead, on unstable factions. These factions (to sim-
plify) come in various dimensions of hostility. Hostility, in turn, is shaped
by the number of factions, including the recognized state as one (if there is
one). Numerous factions make it difficult for them to cooperate and engender
suspicion. In addition, few or many factions complicate both coordination

and cooperation. In addition, harm done—casualties and refugees generated—
creates the resentment that makes jointly beneficial solutions to coordination
and cooperation more difficult to envisage. The more hostile and numerous
the factions, the more difficult the peace process will be, and the more interna-
tional assistance/authority will be needed if peace is to be established.
In less hostile circumstances (with few factions, a hurting stalemate, or
less harm done), international monitoring and facilitation might be sufficient
to establish transparent trust and self-enforcing peace. Monitoring helps create
transparency among partners lacking trust but having compatible incentives
favoring peace. Traditional peacekeeping assistance can also reduce trade-offs
(for example, helping fund and certify the cantonment, demobilization, and
reintegration of former combatants). In these circumstances—with few players,
some reconciliation, less damage—international coordination and assistance
can be sufficient to overcome hostility and solve implementation problems. An
international peacekeeping presence itself can deter defections from the peace
treaty, because of the possible costs of violating international agreements and
triggering further international involvement in an otherwise domestic conflict.
International capacity-building—such as foreign aid, demobilization of mili-
tary forces, institutional reform—will assist parties that favor the peace to meet
their commitments.
In more hostile circumstances, international enforcement can help solve
commitment and cooperation problems by directly implementing or raising
the costs of defection from peace agreements. International enforcement and
long-term trusteeship will be required to overcome deep sources of distrust and
powerful incentives to defect from agreed provisions of the peace. As in other
conflict-cooperation situations, such as prisoner’s dilemma and mixed motive
games,30 the existence of deeply hostile or many factions (or factions that lack
coherent leadership) complicate the problem of achieving self-enforcing coop-
erative peace. Instead, conscious direction and enforcement by an impartial
international agent to guarantee the functions of effective sovereignty become
necessary, and peacekeepers must include activities such as conducting free
and fair elections, arresting war criminals, and policing and administering a
collapsed state. The more difficult it is for the factions to cooperate, the greater
the international authority and capacity the international peacekeepers must
wield. In addition to substantial bodies of troops, extensive budgets for political
reconstruction and substantial international authority need to be brought to
bear because the parties are unlikely to trust each other and cooperate. Interna-
tional mandates may need to run from monitoring to administration to execu-
tive authority and full sovereign trusteeship like supervision if peace is going
to be maintained and become eventually self-sustaining.
War-torn countries also vary in economic and social capacity. Some started
out with considerable economic development (the former Yugoslavia) and retain
levels of social capacity in an educated population. Others began poor and the
war impoverished them further (Angola, Sudan, Cambodia). For both types of
cases, reconstruction is vital; the more the social and economic devastation, the
larger the multidimensional international role must become, whether consent-

based multidimensional peacekeeping or nonconsent enforcement followed by
and including multidimensional peacekeeping. International economic relief
and productive jobs are the first signs of peace that can persuade rival factions
to truly disarm and take a chance on peaceful politics. Institutions need to be
rebuilt, including a unified army and police force and the even more challeng-
ing development of a school system that can assist the reconciliation of future
generations. In countries with low levels of local capacities, competition over
resources will be intense at the early stages of the peace process, and this can
further intensify the coordination and collaboration problems that the peace-
keepers will be asked to resolve.
There should therefore be a relation between the depth of hostility (harm and
factions) and local capacities (institutional and economic collapse), on one hand,
and the extent of international assistance and effective authority, from monitor-
ing to enforcing, needed to build peace on the other hand. In a world where each
dimension is finite, we can expect, first, that compromises will be necessary to
achieve peacekeeping success and, second, that the international role will be sig-
nificant in general and successful when it is designed to fit the case. The extent of
transitional authority that needs to be delegated to the international community
will be a function of the level of postwar hostility and local capacities.
The relations among the three dimensions of this peacebuilding triangle
are complicated. The availability and prospect of international assistance and
the existence of extensive local capacities, for example, can, if poorly managed,
both raise the gains from victory (spoils of war and rebuilding assistance) and
reduce the costs of fighting (as the assistance serves to sustain the fighting).
Deep war-related hostilities can also have dual effects. They increase rational
incentives to end the conflict but make peace harder to achieve.
Two Important Problems with Current Approaches

to Peacebuilding
Recent policy debates on UN peacebuilding have highlighted two possible

weaknesses in current approaches. The first weakness has to do with the UN’s
promotion of democratic solutions to conflicts. Multiparty democracy may
work well in some contexts and poorly in others. The second weakness is less
about the goals and more about the operational implementation of peacebuild-
ing interventions, which are often poorly coordinated with other peacebuilding
activities occurring alongside UN intervention. I take up these issues briefly
but do not resolve the debates, as there is inadequate evidence for an adjudica-
tion of the different perspectives.
Too Much Emphasis on Democratization?

In recent years, the UN’s capacity to organize and hold elections in post–civil
war states has increased dramatically, and political liberalization has been a
component of most multidimensional missions. There is a lot of criticism

of that approach in the literature, with most opposition concentrating on the
question of the timing of elections, arguing that elections should be held only
after political institutions have matured. There are several cases that illus-
trate the risks associated with moving to multiparty democracy in countries
with weak political institutions. Bruce Jones makes a convincing argument
that pressure to transition to multiparty democracy in Rwanda was one of the
key reasons behind conflict escalation and contributed to the genocide. Jack
Snyder argues similarly that multiparty transition in Burundi had negative
effects by encouraging conflict among warlords.31 Roland Paris argues along
the same lines that liberalization—economic or political—may be too ambi-
tious a standard for most states emerging from civil war and, if we were to
use such an ambitious standard, most UN peace missions would be judged
to be failures.32
Although the dangers highlighted by these studies seem well founded,
there are few (if any) alternatives that seem clearly more viable and less
conflict-inducing than a strategy of promoting elections. Most casual
observers of the news from Iraq will remember the strong local opposi-
tion to the delays in handing over sovereignty of that country to Iraqis
after the U.S. invasion in 2003. Getting the people to vote peacefully and
express their political voice is a peacebuilding goal and sign of progress
in its own right.33 Simply waiting will not necessarily create the political
and civil structures that critics of elections argue are necessary to avoid a
hijacking of the political system by warlords and spoilers. The same dan-
gers that can undermine elections can also undermine any other interim
arrangement short of outright military occupation or the imposition of a
repressive regime that can quell opposition. Elections are clearly better at
offering more legitimate local solutions than interim governments that are
controlled by outsiders.
Because democracy is usually seen as a relatively good long-term out-
come in most cases, the question then becomes how might a society ruled
by decree transition smoothly to democracy, how long will such a transition
take, and at what cost? As far as I know, there are no satisfactory answers
to these questions in the literature. No empirical study to date has shown
unequivocally that elections have a negative causal effect on peace proc-
esses and that other political strategies that do not involve elections have
a clearly superior outcome. One theoretically interesting alternative articu-
lated by Michael Barnett—encouraging deliberation to build what he calls
a “republican peace”—seems to suffer from the same problems as any
democratization strategy because it assumes the willingness of local actors
to cooperate.34 One lesson that seems to be emerging from the literature is
that democratization is more likely to succeed if countries are integrated
quickly in the international system by, for example, becoming members of
other multilateral and regional organizations that have a high concentration
of other democracies.35 Democratic norms and networks can flourish more
easily in such an environment.
Lack of Coordination of Peacebuilding Activities?

An argument frequently seen in the literature is that fragmented approaches
to peacebuilding interventions by the international community create obstacles
to successful peace transitions.36 UN missions have not had the best record of
strategic coordination with other actors.
There can be a number of causes of coordination failure: different par-
ties are engaged in the mediation and the implementation phase of a peace
agreement,37 many actors with overlapping mandates or conflicting agendas
are involved in the process,38 diffuse intervention efforts generate spoiler
problems. Bruce Jones’s thoughtful assessment of these issues suggests that
effective missions will be characterized by a continuity of actors, the use of the
“friends mechanism” (i.e., the UN will be assisted by important regional actors
interested in a positive outcome), and by coordination of international opera-
tions that avoids conflict or duplication of effort.
Creating an integrated mission is often easier said than done. Most stud-
ies on the topic seem to conclude that what is needed is an actor to take the
lead and coordinate a committee of interested actors, each offering different
expertise. The key challenge, therefore, would be to determine who that lead
coordinator should be. One recommendation might be to assign that role to the
party undertaking the most difficult task—the provision of security. Another
recommendation might be to have the international financial institutions fol-
low (rather than lead) in civil war transitions, with the World Bank and the
International Monetary Fund pledging resources to countries that invite UN
peacekeepers to create mutually reinforcing incentives for peacebuilding.
The creation of the Peacebuilding Commission is a step in the right direction
toward creating the capacity to better integrate UN missions. The General
Assembly established the commission as an intergovernmental advisory body,
and its membership reflects current debates about the need to include the larg-
est contributors (of funds and troops) in decision making while also achieving
a regional balance that is not always easy to achieve in the Security Council after
several failed efforts at reform.
A related and even more difficult question is how different interventions
should be sequenced: does security come first and everything else second?
Does the economy come first? Or should all reforms be tried simultaneously?
Although opinions on sequencing in the policy literature abound, there is to
date no useful guide to answer these questions if we look for strong empiri-
cal evidence in support of a specific sequencing plan. Several rules of thumb
exist, and some times they are conflicting because they are generalizations that
derive from the experience of a single or a few cases. The generalizations run
into problems when applied to different contexts. In light of the fact that the
literature is not yet mature enough to provide definitive answers and the neces-
sary data for such assessments are not available, I argue that a rule of thumb
that seems commonsensical is that sequencing patterns should be different in
difficult as opposed to easy peacebuilding ecologies. Where the factions are few,
coherent, and reconciled, then extensive interventions that combine political

reforms with reconstruction and development assistance can be implemented
on the basis of a settlement while security is being provided by lightly armed
peacekeepers. In harder ecologies, harder choices must be made, and political
liberalization may have to be delayed to avoid sparking new conflict over the
design of political institutions. In such cases, however, it is hard to see how
progress can be made without a heavy footprint—security provision that is not
limited to peacekeeping.
UN Missions’ Impact on Long-Term War Avoidance
Much of the discussion up to this point has focused on a broad standard of

peacebuilding success that does not privilege the absence of war over other
considerations. This definition of peacebuilding is not uncontroversial. In
some cases, this standard may be too high for what can reasonably be expected
within a short period. In the long term, the effects of UN missions or other
peacebuilding interventions may best be measured against a more modest
standard—war avoidance.
How have UN missions fared against such a standard? We can get a
sense of this by looking at a statistical analysis of the effects of the UN on
peace duration. For such an analysis, I use a survival model, which estimates
the “hazard” (or risk) of peace failure at time t given that the peace has not
failed until that point. These models can account for what is called “right-
censoring” in the statistical literature (the fact that a peace that has not failed
up to the end of analysis time can fail in a subsequent period).39 The depend-
ent variable is peace duration, and I code it by measuring months at peace
from the end of the war until either the peace fails or up to a censoring point,
which in this case is the end of December 1999. Peace failure implies that a
new civil war starts in the country and that that war is connected to the previ-
ous one.40
In the single-record, single-failure data set used previously, we have seventy-
three peace failures with mean peace duration of fifty-three months. Failures
cannot occur at time t = 0, but there are several failures of the peace in the first
month. The model used earlier to study short-term peacebuilding can now be
estimated differently to study long-term peacebuilding. Given its greater ver-
satility, the Cox model is a better initial choice than the more frequently used
Weibull model or other parametric hazard models.41
Model 1 in table 6.2 is the core model with controls added for real per
capita income, the rate of growth of real per capita income at the end of the
war, and the level of ethnic fractionalization. These three variables did not
have a significant association to participatory peace in the short run, so they
were excluded from table 6.2. Because I am now using a different concept of
peacebuilding and there are several arguments in the literature that link those
variables to civil war, I add them to the model.
TABLE 6.2. Duration Models of the Hazard of War Recurrence

Model 1 Model 2 Model 3 Model 4
Ethnic war 1.14 0.996 0.95 1.12

(0.31) (0.27) (0.29) (0.31)
Dead and displaced (log) 1.14 1.12 1.13 1.20
(0.065) (0.070) (0.077) (0.08)
Number of Factions 1.04 1.06 1.06 1.01
(0.099) (0.08) (0.085) (0.07)
Net current transfers 0.999 0.999 0.999 0.999
(9.18e-07) (1.13e-06) (1.22e-06) (1.01e-06)
Ethnic fractionalization 3.78 3.81 3.94 4.32
(1.88) (1.98) (2.11) (2.32)
Electricity consumption 0.999 — — —
(0.0002) — — —
Real GDP growth 0.96 0.96 0.96 0.96
(0.012) (0.014) (0.015) (0.014)
Real GDP (log) — 0.78 0.79 0.74
— (0.10) (0.11) (0.13)
Primary commodity exports/GDP 3.52 3.29 2.92 2.38
(1.90) (2.00) (1.79) (1.42)
Any UN intervention 0.54 — — —
(0.16) — — —
UN Chapter VI missions — 0.48 0.47 0.41
— (0.17) (0.18) (0.16)
Negotiated settlement — 0.43 0.37 0.33
— (0.17) (0.14) (0.13)
Military outcome — 0.54 0.50 0.38
— (0.18) (0.16) (0.12)
40s peace start — — — 0.22
— — — (0.197)
— — — (1.80)
— — — (0.50)
— — — (0.33)
— — — (0.33)
Time dependence (p) — — 0.62 —
— — (0.055) —
Observations 129 131 131 131
Number of failures 69 70 70 70
Log pseudo-likelihood –267.95 –268.91 –182.74 –260.32
Wald χ2 (d.f.) 73.73 102.88 108.93 154.32
(9 d.f.) (11 d.f.) (11 d.f.) (16 d.f.)
Note: Reported are hazard ratios and coefficient robust standard errors; bold indicates significance at the 0.05
level; italics indicate significance at the 0.05 level with one-tailed test.
UN intervention is significant (p = 0.039) and reduces the risk of peace

failure by about 50 percent.42 But the strongest result in this analysis, con-
sistent with much of the literature on civil war onset, is that local capacities
are critical in determining proneness to a new war outbreak. Local capacity
variables now take away some of the effect of the hostility variables (only deaths
and displacements is significant, and this is not very robust). Countries with
higher levels of income, fast-growing postwar economies, and lower depend-
ence on natural resource exports are far more likely to experience longer peace
durations despite the negative effects of postwar hostility. The effects of vari-
ables like the number of factions or the nature of the war (was it ethnic or not?)
are nonsignificant as we might expect any impact that they have to be limited
to the immediate postwar period. High fractionalization has a significant (p =
0.007) negative effect on peace duration, which lends support to the hypothesis
about the difficulties of achieving long-lasting peace in fractionalized countries
after civil war.
The results on local capacities are quite robust to small specification
changes. By contrast, the effects of UN intervention are less robust. One problem
is that UN enforcement missions seem to have negative effects on peace dura-
tion, probably due to the very challenging circumstances in which they are
employed and because they are designed to end wars and not build long-lasting
peace. Thus, in model 2, I use a variable that identifies only consent-based
UN missions (I drop enforcement missions) and find that they are significant
(p = 0.044) and have a positive effect on peace duration (the odds ratio in model
2 for Chapter VI missions is under 1, reducing the risk of peace failure by about
50 percent). This effect is not mitigated when I control for other variables, such
as war outcomes (both negotiated settlements and military victories lead to
longer peace durations than less decisive outcomes, such as truces or military
stalemates). In model 2, I have also measured local capacities with the log of
per capita real income measured before the start of the war to avoid confound-
ing with other variables that measure wartime damage, such as deaths and
displacements. Income is positively associated with longer peace durations (p
= 0.054) and this is consistent with the results from the larger literature on civil
war onset. A test of the proportional hazard (PH) assumption now shows that
it is not satisfied in model 2. Reestimating the model using Weibull regression
(model 3) produces substantively similar results and showed that the risk
of war recurrence has negative duration dependence (i.e., peace becomes
more stable as time passes). To account for the fact that exposure to the risk of
peace failure is higher in countries where the war ended early in the analysis
period, I added controls for the decade during which the peace process started
(model 4). This marginally satisfied the PH assumption underlying the Cox
model and improved some of the results and made deaths and displacements
highly significant (p = 0.008).
These results highlight the importance of including economic rehabili-
tation in a peacebuilding mandate and dovetail with recent findings in the
literature on civil war that demonstrate the power of these variables in influ-
encing the risk of war onset. Scholars of civil war use income per capita as a
measure of state strength, and it has been shown that heavy dependence on
oil results in authoritarian state structures. Thus, the results may suggest that
postwar authoritarianism and state weakness increase the risk of war recurrence.
Consent-based UN missions have a positive impact, but this is overshadowed
by local capacity variables. Thus, a war-prevention strategy for the UN in coun-

tries that are emerging from civil war should be to help build institutions that
resist the corrupting pressures of resource-dependent economies and allow
fast economic growth. The UN’s impact in rebuilding institutions will be par-
ticularly important in ethnically divided societies that are at higher risk of a
return to civil war.
This analysis is corroborated by a survival analysis using time-series cross-
section data. I do not present that analysis here but summarize the results.43
The presence of any UN mission increases the chances of long-lasting peace,
and this is particularly true if we split the sample in a way that allows us to drop
some of the early peace processes, when the UN had not yet developed suffi-
ciently multidimensional approaches to peacebuilding. I find evidence that the
UN has actually become better at peacekeeping over time, because by dropping
cases with peace durations longer than ten years, I find that the significance of
the UN variable improves.
To explore further the lasting influence of UN operations, I used several
time lags and coded another version of the UN variable that allows me to
study the effect of only those missions that have departed. Using Weibull
regression due to an identified positive time-dependence of peace, I found
that UN interventions are weakly significant over time, but that their effect
dissipates after a few years. The effect of local capacities remains strong,
but sorting out the long-term effects of UN missions in this case is harder
because the presence of the UN in the early days of a mission may facilitate
a return to growth, so some of the effects of missions will be captured by
the local capacity variables. What that analysis suggests, however, is that a
strategy of multidimensional peacekeeping combined with interventions that
foster economic growth represents the best chance of post–civil war societies
to achieve lasting peace.
The Importance of Economic Growth in Peace Transitions
The results reported here on the importance of economic growth for

sustainable peace are consistent with other studies that have looked at the
link between economic development and civil war onset. Several empirical
studies have established that civil wars have high economic costs.44 These
costs are incurred through several channels. For example, Ghobarah, Huth,
and Russet argue that health standards decline in a civil war country and
neighboring countries, and this reduces available human capital for eco-
nomic production and creates high health costs for the state.45 Montalvo and
Reynal-Querol show empirically that refugee flows, which are often caused
by civil wars, increase the prevalence of certain diseases in neighboring
countries.46
How can fast growth resume after civil war? Some authors have argued
that economic growth actually rebounds quickly after wars and that there are
no negative long-term effects of war on economic growth.47 Chen, Loayza, and

Reynal-Querol argue that although civil war has a negative impact on countries’
levels of political development, health, and educational achievement, once
peace is established, economic recovery is possible.48 Their analysis shows that
progress in social development indicators occurs as per capita income rises
and public spending shifts away from military expenditures. They find that
economic growth, mortality rates, and education levels in civil war countries
improve significantly postwar relative to the prewar period, and these gains
are actually greater than those made in comparable periods in countries not
affected by civil war.49 The reasons for these increases are likely to be connected
to the economic and humanitarian assistance that most civil war countries
receive during their transition to peace. But “control group” countries—that
is, countries not affected by civil war—have greater gains in political openness
relative to post–civil war countries. Thus, available evidence points to a useful
role that UN peace missions can play by filling in the institutional and demo-
cratic deficit in post–civil war countries. Such a role is likely to enhance the
prospects of economic recovery.
Although there is not much contestation of the idea that faster growth
improves the prospects for peace, several authors have criticized the economic
strategies used by the UN and other agencies and organizations involved in
peacebuilding. Economic liberalization policies are seen as imposing unreason-
able strain on countries emerging from civil war. As a more prudent strategy,
authors have proposed a more gradual pace of economic reform and greater
protections for war-affected groups. These arguments are summarized well in
Roland Paris’s book, which effectively points to the need for greater “institu-
tionalization before liberalization.”50
Paris argues that peacebuilding missions promote Western liberal demo-
cracy as a cookie-cutter solution along with principles of economic liberalism
that are not always compatible with local norms and traditions in the war-
affected countries.51 He does not reject the idea that liberal institutionalism is a
good way to promote “positive peace,” but advocates for a gradual introduction
of liberal principles to avoid social conflict.
In a similar vein, Smith (see chapter 10 in this volume) makes the argu-
ment that peacekeeping has an “economic imperialist” dimension because
peace missions are “designed to protect the interests of Northern states.” The
goal of economic liberalization is often to integrate post–civil war countries to
the world economy, but Kaldor and Luckham, among others, argue that eco-
nomic globalization delegitimates state authority and this is one of the causes
of “new wars.”52 The argument here is that the “standard” economic policy
package in peacebuilding operations that is supported by funds from the inter-
national financial institutions undermines the state in ways that make it more
vulnerable to future conflict.
It is hard to see, however, how the task of rebuilding the political economy
of a state where the population is divided into hostile factions can involve
measures that do not temporarily reduce the governments’ regulatory and policy-
making capacity. This is needed to create assurances that there is external
oversight of government policies. Though there is little doubt that “local

ownership” is necessary for sustainable peace, in some transitions this is a
goal that should be postponed. Where the risks of renewed warfare are great
and transitional administration is necessary, there cannot be local owner-
ship because locals cannot be trusted to work out an equitable, sustainable
solution.53 In the economic sphere, policies to attract foreign investment
are, in fact, critical for a return to fast economic growth, because in large
wars local financial capital will have migrated to safe havens overseas, and
some incentive and assurance is necessary for that capital to come back.
There is now a growing understanding in the relevant international organ-
izations that standard policies of structural adjustment and economic liberali-
zation like reductions in public spending, privatization of public assets, and
elimination of wage and price controls and subsidies are not applicable to the
first stages of post–civil war recovery. Yet critics of international economic
involvement must go beyond these simple arguments that are now less contro-
versial than they were ten or twenty years ago and propose alternative pathways
for a quick return to economic growth. Basic things like provision of services
to the population can be quickly achieved and are important as confidence-
building measures.54 An equitable division of the “peace dividend” is also a
reasonable goal, despite the fact that there is no clear evidence linking eco-
nomic inequalities (between individuals or groups) to the onset of large-scale
internal armed conflict. In many peace transitions, land redistribution or provi-
sion of basic services like education to large segments of the population were
important components of successful peacebuilding, according to many careful
observers.
The legitimation of property rights, needed to transform a war economy
into a peace economy, will require some form of political liberalization,
despite the risks of such reforms highlighted by Paris and others. Revitaliz-
ing the export industries of the country and redirecting government expendi-
tures toward productive investment and away from military expenditures are
also reasonable economic goals in a peace transition. In such an economic
transition, lessons learned from the past ten years suggest that there is a
need for separate humanitarian assistance and economic development assist-
ance.55 Humanitarian assistance targets affected individuals and groups with
no necessary link to the economic reconstruction policy. Other emergency
grants and assistance will also be necessary to rebuild the civilian adminis-
tration, demobilize ex-combatants and reintegrate them in society, and find
employment for all war-affected populations. But the criticisms of interna-
tional financial institutions’ “rigidity” and their proclivity toward financial
restraint must also be informed by the risk that humanitarian assistance and
development aid can easily become prizes over which the factions can fight
in societies that are politically unstable.
Although rapid immersion into the wild world of economic globalization
will undoubtedly create strain in post–civil war societies just as it does in every
society, are there any viable, practical, and clear economic alternatives beyond
vague calls for a better “global systemic framework” for peacebuilding? Smith
(this volume) seems to argue that the problem is that the UN is subordinate
to the international financial institutions and that a better approach would be
to promote a “global culture of solidarity and human rights.”56 Direct espousal
of such a goal would undoubtedly be difficult for the international financial
institutions, whose articles of agreement impose a doctrine of economic neu-
trality with respect to political agendas. Everyone appreciates, of course, that
economic targets have political consequences, and there can be several ways
to improve the coordination of activities of the international financial institu-
tions with agencies such as the Department of Peacekeeping Operations, which
have an explicitly political mandate. My proposal earlier in this chapter is for
the international financial institutions to commit resources where the UN is
willing to commit peacekeeping troops and technical expertise in institutional
rebuilding.
Conclusion
Participatory peace that lasts depends on heavy international involvement in

the immediate postwar period and a rapid return to a growing economy. The
more we move away from a negative definition of peace and toward an under-
standing of peace that has an element of participation, the more we will need
extensive and often muscular third-party intervention to deter spoilers, build
transformative political institutions, and provide guarantees that the peace will
not collapse soon after the peacekeepers leave.
Rebuilding local capacities in ways that allow countries to grow economi-
cally reduces the risk of a new war, as do economic reforms that lower coun-
tries’ dependence on natural resources. Over time, the positive effect of UN
peace missions only works in indirect ways, if it helps countries build the insti-
tutions needed for self-sustaining peace.
The UN has had a good record in its peacebuilding interventions, but
there is room for improvement. The empirical record shows that UN missions
are not always sufficiently strategic. Better matching between the underlying
peacebuilding ecology and the UN mandate and resources is likely to improve
the prospects for peacebuilding success. What is also missing from current
missions is a clear plan on how to integrate economic development as a key
goal of the transition process.
Integrated mission strategies are now a necessity, given the wide range of
policy objectives that peacebuilders are asked to achieve. The difficult—and
still unanswered—question is who should be in charge of coordination of an
integrated, multidimensional peace mission. Should it be whoever provides
security? Should military agencies be subordinated to civilian agencies? Should
local leaders take control of the process, or should the transition be governed
by external actors?
The areas of policy intervention are multiplying: demobilization, disar-
mament, and reintegration of ex-combatants; refugee repatriation; elections;
economic reconstruction; humanitarian assistance; security provision—these
are all areas of policy intervention that are important, and different agen-
cies have expertise and resources that they can bring to bear on each one.
Beyond the fairly obvious calls for better integration of operational strategies
from these agencies, there is no clear sense of how to achieve all these objec-
tives of postwar peacebuilding in ways that create no new social tensions and
waste the least amount of financial resources. This is because we do not yet
know how much each of those objectives contributes to peace (or even what
the right definition of peace should be) or what the best practices to achieve
each of those objectives are. Part of the problem is that outcomes we can study
are so highly case-specific that it is hard to generalize about best practices of
peacebuilding. Another part of the problem is that there are inherent tensions
in peacebuilding processes: restoring state sovereignty may (in some cases)
undermine minority rights; promoting human rights and reconciliation as a
peacebuilding standard may make it harder for parties to reach a peace set-
tlement in the first place; fostering growth of local or informal institutions
may be impossible in situations where a heavy international presence and
an enforcement mandate are needed to impose a peace; and creating the
conditions for a return to economic growth may require political liberaliza-
tions that, in some societies, may trigger new social conflicts. Though there
is no clear or easy answer on how to address these complex challenges, the
UN has shown that it is best suited to take the lead in future peacebuilding
initiatives. UN missions must take advantage of the formative role that they
can play in the early stages of peace transitions and set the stage for self-
sustaining peace by creating incentives for the transformation of war economies
into peace economies. They can do this more effectively if they assume the role
of coordinator of integrated peace missions that involve the World Bank and
other donors as well as bilateral actors who can provide security in the most
difficult situations.
NOTES
This chapter draws on Michael W. Doyle and Nicholas Sambanis, Making War and
Building Peace: United Nations Peace Operations (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University
Press, 2006).
1. Boutros Boutros-Ghali, Agenda for Peace: Report of the Secretary-General, UN
document A/47/277-S/24111, June 17, 1992. Quotes are from paras. 20–21 and 55–99.
2. For a discussion of each of these strategies see, among others, Michael Doyle
and Nicholas Sambanis, “Peacekeeping Operations,” in The Oxford Handbook on the
United Nations, edited by Thomas G. Weiss and Sam Daws (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2007).
3. For a relevant discussion of the evolution of standards of peacebuilding, see
Simon Chesterman’s contribution to this volume (chapter 5).
4. Success is, of course, an ambiguous and contested term. We discuss its various
meanings and how to measure it in Making War and Building Peace in both the data
analysis and case studies.
5. See James D. Fearon and David D. Laitin, “Ethnicity, Insurgency, and Civil
War,” American Political Science Review 97, no. 1 (2003): 75–90.
6. See Kenneth Boulding, “Toward a Theory of Peace,” in International Conflict

and Behavioral Science, edited by Roger Fisher (New York: Basic Books, 1964), 70–87.
7. This is consistent with (though possibly less expansive than) the definition
of peacebuilding proposed by John Paul Lederach and Scott Appleby in this volume
(chapter 1): “Peacebuilding that is strategic draws intentionally and shrewdly on
the overlapping and imperfectly coordinated presences, activities, and resources
of various international, transnational, national, regional, and local institutions,
agencies, and movements that influence the causes, expressions, and outcomes of
conflict. Strategic peacebuilders take advantage of emerging and established
patterns of collaboration and interdependence for the purposes of reducing violence
and alleviating the root causes of deadly conflict. They encourage the deeper and
more frequent convergence of mission, resources, expertise, insight, and benevo-
lent self-interest that characterizes the most fruitful multilateral collaborations in
the cause of peace.”
8. Details on the measurement of all the variables included in the model can be
found online at http://pantheon.yale.edu/~ns237/index/research/SupplementforDS2006.
pdf.
9. We measure electricity consumption and real income the year before the war
started because the hostility variables would have a direct effect on these measures
after the war. Real income growth may have the same problem, but it has tremendous
variability in post–civil war countries, and it seems much more responsive as a meas-
ure of postwar developments.
10. We use two measures: primary commodity exports as a percent of GDP and
oil export dependence, a binary variable coded 1 if a country’s fuel exports make up
more than 33 percent of its total merchandise exports. For results using the oil
variable, see our supplements.
11. The literature expounding the three is vast, but for central differences see
Robert Keohane, After Hegemony (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1984);
Joseph Grieco, “Anarchy and the Limits of Cooperation: A Realist Critique of the
Newest Liberal Institutionalism,” International Organization 42, no. 3 (1988): 485–507;
and Martha Finnemore and Kathryn Sikkink, “Taking Stock: The Constructivist
Research Program in International Relations and Comparative Politics,” Annual
Review of Political Science 4 (2001): 391–416.
12. For a theoretical discussion of the problem of providing assurance and build-
ing trust in conflicts that combine elements of both coordination and cooperation
games, see Andrew Kydd, “Trust, Reassurance, and Cooperation,” International Organi-
zation 54, no. 2 (2000): 325–357.
13. For a precise game-theoretic definition of coordination and collaboration
games, refer to James Morrow, Game Theory for Political Scientists (Princeton, N.J.:
Princeton University Press, 1994); and David M. Kreps, Game Theory and Economic
Modeling (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990).
14. A useful summary of the literature is Robert Axelrod and Robert Keohane,
“Introduction” and “Conclusion,” in Cooperation under Anarchy, edited by Kenneth
Oye (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1986).
15. Morrow, Game Theory, 222.
16. Transformative peacekeeping is different from peace enforcement. The
former can only deter or punish occasional violations. If the violations are systematic
and large-scale, a no-consent enforcement operation might be necessary.
17. On the role of reconciliation in peacebuilding process, see chapter 4 in this
volume.
18. See Gary Bass, Stay the Hand of Vengeance (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton
University Press, 2000); for the difficulties, see Jack Snyder and Leslie Vinjamuri,
“Trials and Errors: Principle and Pragmatism in Strategies of International Justice,” Inter-
national Security 28, no. 3 (2003/2004): 5–44; and Chandra Sriram, Confronting Past
Human Rights Violators (Oxford: Hart, 2004). See also chapter 9 in this volume on the
importance of human rights and justice in peacebuilding processes.
19. Roht-Arriaza (see chapter 9) discusses the Truth Commissions in Haiti and
Guatemala as good examples of such hybrid institutions.
20. The mutually hurting stalemate is from I. William Zartman, Ripe for Resolu-
tion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), where he discusses “ripe” conflicts.
Additional conditions for conflict ripeness in Zartman’s theory are a sense of crisis, a
deadline for negotiations, a reversal in the parties’ relative strength, a leveraged external
mediation, and a feasible settlement that can address all the parties’ basic needs.
21. The settlement of El Salvador’s civil war is a good example of a hurting stalemate.
22. Stephen John Stedman, “Spoiler Problems in Peace Processes,” International
Security 22, no. 2 (1997): 7.
23. The statistical analysis that supports the discussion in this section is pre-
sented in the online supplements of Making War and Building Peace.
24. A comparison of the means cannot reject the null hypothesis of no difference
(p = 0.94).
25. These results are reported in the supplements.
26. UN missions, however, do go to cases that are overall harder to resolve than
cases without UN intervention. These selection effects and the issues that they gener-
ate for estimating the effects of UN missions on peacebuilding are discussed in the
supplement to Making War and Building Peace and in Nicholas Sambanis, “Short-Term
and Long-Term Effects of United Nations Peace Operations,” World Bank Economic
Review (forthcoming).
27. See Shashi Tharoor, “Should UN Peacekeeping ‘Go Back to Basics’?” Survival
37, no. 4 (1995–1996): 52–64.
28. See Thomas Franck, “A Holistic Approach to Peace-building,” in Peacemaking
and Peacekeeping for the New Century, edited by Olara Otunnu and Michael W. Doyle
(Lanham, Md.: Rowman and Littlefield, 1998), 275–295; and Elizabeth Cousens,
Chetan Kumar, and Karin Wermester, eds., Peacebuilding as Politics (Boulder, Colo.:
Lynne Rienner, 2000).
29. See Alvaro DeSoto and Graciana del Castillo, “Obstacles to Peacebuilding in
El Salvador,” Foreign Policy 94 (1994): 69–83. This is the coordinating role that Japan,
for example, played in Cambodia in organizing the Tokyo conference and the Interna-
tional Committee on the Reconstruction of Cambodia.
30. Axelrod and Keohane, “Introduction” and “Conclusion”; Kenneth Oye,
“Explaining Cooperation under Anarchy,” World Politics 38, no. 1 (1985): 1–24.
31. Bruce D. Jones, Peacemaking in Rwanda: The Dynamics of Failure (Boulder,
Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 2001). Jack Snyder, From Voting to Violence (New York: Norton,
2000).
32. Roland Paris, At War’s End: Building Peace after Conflict (New York: Cambridge
University Press, 2004).
33. This point is made well by Terence Lyons, “The Role of Postsettlement
Elections,” in Ending Civil Wars, edited by Stephen Stedman et al. (Boulder, Colo.:
Lynne Rienner, 2002), 215–235.
34. Michael Barnett, “Building a Republican Peace: Stabilizing States After War,”
International Security 30, no. 4 (2006): 87–112.
35. For an empirical analysis of this issue, see Jon Pevehouse, “Democracy from
Outside? International Organizations and Democratization,” International Organization
56, no. 3 (2002): 515–549.
36. Good examples of this argument are Bruce Jones, “The Challenges of
Strategic Coordination,” in Ending Civil Wars edited by Stephen Stedman et al.
(Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 2002), 89–116; and Barnett R. Rubin, “Constructing
Sovereignty for Security,” Survival 47, no. 4 (2005): 93–106.
37. See Jones, “The Challenges of Strategic Coordination.”
38. For a view that interagency competition contributes to poor coordination of
UN missions, see “A More Secure World: Our Shared Responsibility,” Report of the
High-Level Panel on Threats, Challenges, and Change, UN Doc A/59/565, December
1, 2004, http:/www.un.org/secureworld.
39. For a methodological discussion, see Janet M. Box-Steffensmeier and
Bradford S. Jones, Timing and Political Change: Event History Modeling in Political Science
(Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2003).
40. It is not straightforward to have a similar long-term analysis of the more
ambitious participatory peace standard. There are a number of problems with coding
the dependent variable: there are no reliable data on levels of residual violence over
time; levels of political openness can vary over time, so it is possible that some cases
would “fail” one year, then “succeed” years later if they become more democratic; and
a deadline is needed to code undivided sovereignty because peace processes are often
designed to resolve problems of divided sovereignty gradually, and we must have a
uniform standard on how long it should take for a peace mission to succeed in
resolving problems of divided sovereignty.
41. In each model, I test the proportional hazard assumption and, if it is not satis-
fied, I use a Weibull model, which is appropriate if the hazard rate is monotonically
increasing or decreasing.
42. This effect is robust to controlling for non-UN missions. Hazard ratios under
1 indicate a negative coefficient (i.e., a negative effect). Ratios above 1 indicate a posi-
tive effect.
43. For results and discussion, see Sambanis (forthcoming).
44. See James C. Murdoch and Todd Sandler, “Economic Growth, Civil Wars, and
Spatial Spillovers,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 46 (2002): 91–110, for a cross-country
study of the economic growth spillover effects of civil war; and R. Soares, “The Welfare
Cost of Violence across Countries,” Journal of Health Economics 25, no. 5 (2006):
821–846, for country-specific analyses of the economic effects of political violence.
45. P. Ghobarah Hazem, Paul Huth, and Bruce Russett, “Civil Wars Kill and
Maim People, Long after the Fighting Stops,” American Political Science Review 97,
no. 2 (2003): 189–202.
46. Jose G. Montalvo and Marta Reynal-Querol, “Fighting against Malaria:
Prevent Wars while Waiting for the ‘Miraculous’ Vaccine,” Review of Economics and
Statistics (forthcoming).
47. See Adam Przeworski, Michael E. Alvarez, Jose Antonio Cheibub, and
Fernando Limongi, Democracy and Development: Political Institutions and Wellbeing in
the World 1950–1990 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000). For an analysis
of the economic effects of the world wars, see A. F. K Organski and Jacek Kugler, “The
Costs of Major Wars: The Phoenix Factor,” American Political Science Review 71, no. 14
(1977): 1347–1366. For an analysis of the effects of the war in Vietnam, see Edward
Miguel and Gerard Roland, “The Long Run Impact of Bombing Vietnam,” NBER
Working Paper No. W11954, January 2006.
48. This conclusion is reached through an event-study methodology that com-

pares prewar and postwar levels of economic and political variables of interest in
forty-one countries. See Siyan Chen, Norman Loayza, and Marta Reynal-Querol, “The
Aftermath of Civil War,” World Bank Working Paper (2007).
49. There can be several mechanisms for fast growth recovery after war. One is
the growth that results from international aid. Another is that war affects some
production factors more than others, increasing rates of return for relatively less
affected factors, thereby propelling forward the mechanism of economic convergence
that leads to higher growth. For a discussion of the latter mechanism, see Robert Barro
and Xavier Sala-I-Martin, Economic Growth (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1995), cited in
Chen, Loayza, and Reynal-Querol (2007).
50. Paris, At War’s End.
51. A similar argument with reference to Nicaragua and Haiti is made by William
Robinson, Promoting Polyarchy: Globalization, U.S. Intervention and Hegemony
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).
52. Mary Kaldor and Robin Luckham, “Global Transformations and New Con-
flicts,” IDS Bulletin 32 (2001).
53. For a discussion of this point, see Simon Chesterman’s contribution to this
volume (chapter 5).
54. See Susan L. Woodward, “Economic Priorities for Successful Peace Imple-
mentation,” in Ending Civil Wars, edited by Stephen Stedman et al. (Boulder, Colo.:
Lynne Rienner, 2002), 183–213.
55. Ibid.; see also chapter 11 in this volume.
56. This paradigm derives from Benhabib Seyla, “On the Alleged Conflict
between Democracy and International Law,” Ethics and International Affairs 19 (2005):
85–100.
7
Targeted Sanctions,
Counterterrorism, and
Strategic Peacebuilding
George A. Lopez and David Cortright
With the imposition of comprehensive trade sanctions on Iraq in

August 1990 through resolution 661, the United Nations Security
Council (UNSC) ushered in a new era in the use of collective coercive
economic measures as a means of fulfilling its mandate under Chap-
ter VII of the UN Charter to protect international peace and security.1
The next seventeen years witnessed an active phase of UNSC-
imposed sanctions, with dozens of resolutions levied against nearly
twenty distinct targets, including myriad national and subnational
actors who would disturb attempts to build peace in war-torn nations
and the new brand of transnational terrorism that has arisen in al
Qaeda. As documented in this volume, alongside these unfolding
global actions and realities, modern peace researchers and practition-
ers were developing the cases and the conceptual contours necessary
for a deeper meaning of protecting international peace and security
through strategic peacebuilding.
To some analysts and practitioners, United Nations–mandated
and –enforced sanctions, including the more narrowly targeted smart
sanctions that are the subject of much of this chapter, epitomize a
top-down, unequal, violent, and ineffective tool for enhancing peace
and security.2 Our own study, research, and experience, however,
teaches us that the evidence of sanctions’ development, implementa-
tion, and reform—as well as their versatility in restraining war, curb-
ing norm violations and constricting terrorism—qualifies them to be
an integral part of peacebuilding, both conceptually and strategically.
This is not to suggest that the UN sanctions policy is flawless or to
deny their many impacts, sometimes adverse, in various aspects of
local and global life. Rather, on balance, and especially if we employ
the Lederach-Appleby framework for strategic peacebuilding outlined in this

volume (see chapter 1), we believe a reasonable case can be made for the use
and scrutiny of sanctions as a significant component of strategic peacebuild-
ing. A number of reasons support our claim.
First, sanctions pressure a target by altering the costs and benefits for con-
tinuing to pursue the behavior labeled unacceptable by the international com-
munity. At their best, sanctions establish a new bargaining dynamic between
target and imposers. Thus, sanctions contribute to the transformation of a con-
flict to a new state of affairs; when successful, new and sustained dialogue
toward conflict resolution will emerge, even if it is forced by sanctions’ coer-
cion. Sanctions research details that this occurs outright in at least one-third of
sanctions cases, and our own work illustrates how even partial compliance with
sanctions by targets can lead to positive endings of disputes.3
Because UN sanctions are strongly coercive, some would claim they do
economic violence to nations, targets, and the innocents. Yet because economic
sanctions offer a middle course “between war and words,”4 they fit with much
of the nonviolent social change criteria crucial to strategic peacebuilding. Sanc-
tions are meant to avoid the costs of military action, yet they provide a more
forceful option beyond diplomatic remonstrance. When employed effectively,
they can exert significant pressure on those targeted. When designed and
applied astutely, sanctions can serve as the basis for a bargaining dynamic in
which the promise of lifting sanctions becomes an incentive to encourage polit-
ical concessions and cooperation.5 In this sense, they also reinforce the conflict
transformational aspect of strategic peacebuilding.
Finally, Lederach and Appleby highlight the need for peacebuilding to
include transnational phenomena and movements, as well as aim toward insti-
tutional change to contribute to greater peace and justice. Although economic
sanctions have an imperfect record in some aspects of these criteria, the process
of sanctions reform, particularly constricting trade in blood diamonds or denying
travel and banking access to human rights violators, emerged from the research
and praxis work of various transnational actors, such as Human Rights Watch,
International Alert, and International Crisis Group. Moreover, in increasing the
institutional capacity of various actors to close borders during arms embargoes
or capture terrorists’ assets, the UN and member states have forged coalitions
of nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) and various national institutions, as
well as governments and regional intergovernmental organizations (IGOs). In
some cases, these developments have spawned new arrangements for how local
and global political actors work together in creating peace and justice.
To understand in some detail the contribution of United Nations–imposed
economic sanctions to strategic peacebuilding involves a number of critical
themes, which this chapter addresses. The first theme regards how the often con-
tentious development of sanctions, specifically their reform from a reinvigorated
peace and security technique of the early 1990s to a major component of the glo-
bal struggle against terrorism, contributes to vigorous and sustainable peace “on
the ground” in situations of violence. The second theme includes the manner
in which sanctions policy formed at the highest levels of international authority
TARGETED SANCTIONS , COUNTERTERRORISM , AND PEACEBUILDING 171
works its way through the multiple layers of international actors and across
time to insert itself—sometimes successfully and other times less so—into the
strategic peacebuilding equation. Finally, the recent evolution of the UN institu-
tional network, which has employed targeted sanctions as its central coercive tool
in counterterrorism policy, illustrates how complex the challenges are for ensur-
ing that UN Security Council action can be a positive component of strategic
peacebuilding in this most difficult peace and security dynamic.
Sanctions, Smart Sanctions Reform, and Strategic Peacebuilding
The record of Security Council sanctions since 1990 and their relationship to
aspects of strategic peacebuilding reveals a pattern of institutional learning,
adaptation, and occasionally, innovation. Not surprisingly, the early phase of
the UNSC’s use of sanctions as a means for advancing the UN mandate to
preserve peace and security (1990–1994) was dominated by the influence of
the five permanent members of the council. Although sanctions provided the
major powers with a powerful tool for collective action within the UNSC, the
wide-ranging social impacts of these measures resulted in declining consensus
on Iraq and disagreements on the appropriateness of sanctions for attaining
council goals of peace and security.
The devastation caused by sanctions to the social and economic infrastruc-
ture of Iraq, as well as further concerns about adverse humanitarian impacts
of sanctions there and in Haiti, meant that various nongovernmental actors
joined numerous UN member governments to condemn sanctions for under-
mining the second pillar of the UN core mandate: to enhance the human condi-
tion. Herein lay the important bridge between the post-1990 emergence of the
sanctions tool and sanctions reform toward strategic peacebuilding. Although
UN sanctions initially reflected a top-down approach, most members and espe-
cially the Secretariat quickly recognized that unless sanctions were formulated
with human rights and humanitarian concerns in mind, they would be short-
lived and ineffective. Furthermore, unless sanctions implementation involved
a plethora of global, regional, and national actors committed to uphold inter-
national norms and the development of authentic peace with security (what
authors in this volume would call strategic peacebuilding) sanctions would
quickly fall out of favor in the international community.
As we have documented extensively in our prior research work, by 1994
the UNSC had learned numerous lessons from these early, flawed sanctions
episodes. The council moved to adapt its measures to mitigate unanticipated
consequences and explored prospects for improving sanctions implementa-
tion, monitoring, and evaluation.6 An era of sanctions reform then ensued as
the council shifted its focus from comprehensive to more selective measures.
Much of that process, and its smart sanctions products, are significant for
strategic peacebuilding because they broadened the number of global actors
involved in sanctions and, more directly, related sanctions goals and means to
peacebuilding.
Aided by a series of international expert processes chaired by Switzerland

(financial sanctions), Germany (arms embargoes and travel bans), and Sweden
(the implementation of smart sanctions) the UNSC abandoned the use of gen-
eral trade sanctions and relied instead on targeted measures. These so-called
smart sanctions included financial assets freezes, travel bans, aviation sanc-
tions, commodity boycotts, and arms embargoes. As the UN counterterrorism
program developed after September 2001, the council mandated the applica-
tion of these more precise tools to disable terrorist networks.7
In conjunction with the move to smart sanctions, efforts to assess the
humanitarian impact of particular sanctions cases became a regular feature of
UN sanctions policy. In 1995, the Department of Humanitarian Affairs (DHA)
commissioned a report on the impact of sanctions on humanitarian assistance
efforts.8 Two years later, the DHA developed a methodology and series of specific
indicators for assessing humanitarian impacts.9 Many of the recommendations
in these studies became the basis for an ongoing humanitarian assessment
methodology developed by DHA’s successor, the Office for the Coordination
of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA). In 2003, OCHA updated its indicators and
methodology in light of recent cases and based on the success of the earlier
venture.10 Assessment reports and missions to examine the impact of sanctions
are now a routine feature of sanctions cases, and they are complemented by the
work of the NGO humanitarian community, which monitors sanctions cases
and issues reports designed to prevent potential humanitarian problems.
In each of the categories of targeted sanctions—finance, travel, arms, and
commodities—the Security Council introduced important innovations that
increased the prospects for the UN to help set better conditions in a crisis for
stable peace by crafting more focused and more humane sanctions. In the area
of financial sanctions, the council moved beyond freezing the assets of gov-
ernments alone. In the early cases of Iraq, Libya, and Yugoslavia, it imposed
financial sanctions only on government assets. Beginning in 1994, with action
against the military junta in Haiti, the Security Council applied financial sanc-
tions against designated individuals and entities as well. This pattern continued
through the Angola and Afghanistan cases in the latter part of the decade. In
the cases of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and Côte d’Ivoire, the
UNSC was authorized to apply targeted measures on designated individuals.
As the Security Council shifted toward imposing targeted sanctions in
cooperation with member states, it developed the capacity to develop and pub-
lish lists of designated sanctions targets. The entities and individuals on these
designation lists were subjected to asset freezes and travel bans. This technique
was used extensively and seemingly effectively, with financial sanctions and
visa bans imposed on lists of designated targets in the cases of Angola, Sierra
Leone, Afghanistan, Liberia, DRC, Sudan, and Côte d’Ivoire. After the terrorist
attacks of September 11, 2001, this practice was expanded and improved in sig-
nificant ways as the council attempted to constrain the activities of terrorists.
Less successfully, but rather important to the prospects for peacebuilding,
the council also attempted to make improvements in the design and imple-
mentation of arms embargoes. In the four instances where arms embargoes
TARGETED SANCTIONS , COUNTERTERRORISM, AND PEACEBUILDING 173
were imposed as stand-alone measures—Somalia, Rwanda, Ethiopia/Eritrea,

and Yugoslavia 1998–2001—the impact of these measures was minimal. Only
in the case of Iraq, where the United States and other countries made a major
commitment to enforcement, did the continuing restrictions on the supply of
arms and dual-use technologies have a significant military-political impact.11
To overcome the problems resulting from inadequate implementation of
arms embargoes, the Security Council adopted a number of policy innovations.
Arms embargo resolutions included prohibitions against not only the supply of
arms and ammunition but also training, military cooperation, and various sup-
port services, including air transportation. More vigorous efforts also were made
to monitor compliance with arms embargoes. The most extensive effort, involv-
ing a wide array of regional, transnational, and private actors, occurred during
the 1991–1995 UNSC sanctions imposed on the Belgrade government. A net-
work of sanctions assistance missions (SAMs) was organized by the Conference
on Security and Co-operation in Europe (predecessor of the Organization for
Security and Co-operation in Europe) and the European Community (EC).
In no other UNSC sanctions episode has the extensive involvement of
transnational actors occurred to this degree. In October 1992, customs officials
(primarily from France) were dispatched to Bulgaria, Hungary, and Romania
to form the first SAMs. SAMs were also established in Albania, Croatia, the
Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, and Ukraine. The EC established a
Sanctions Assistance Missions Communications Center (SAMCOMM) at its
headquarters in Brussels and created the post of sanctions coordinator. By
March 1995, the SAMCOMM staff had grown to twenty-six people.12 These
measures established a substantial institutional capacity for monitoring and
enforcing sanctions. It was the first time major regional organizations stepped
in to assist the United Nations in providing staff and financial resources
for the implementation of UN sanctions. Because little detailed analysis has
been done of the SAMs’ successes and shortcomings, such border control
mechanisms constitute a ripe area for further analysis for those interested in
the way peacebuilding can benefit from the power of regional and international
organizations.
Efforts have also been made to encourage member states to criminalize
violations of UN arms embargoes and strengthen export control laws and regu-
lations. These initiatives helped create a firmer foundation in the domestic law
of member states for penalizing companies and individuals who supply arms
and military related goods in violation of UN arms embargoes. In 2004, the
UNSC directed UN peacekeeping forces in the DRC and Côte d’Ivoire to assist
with monitoring arms embargoes in these countries. This added significant
new responsibilities to the mission of UN peacekeepers in these countries. It
brought into direct, strategic interaction the UN role in resource constriction
via sanctions and traditional peacekeeping. Recent studies confirm that even
modest attention by peacekeepers to issues of arms restrictions can enhance
both the peacekeeping mission and the embargo itself.13
Another important innovation for strengthening the peacebuilding role of
sanctions was the creation of special investigative and expert panels, which
helped the UNSC overcome its lack of monitoring capacity for assessing sanc-
tions cases.14 The first panel was established in conjunction with the arms
embargo against Rwandan Hutu rebels by Resolution 1013 in 1995. The Coun-
cil created the United Nations Independent Commission of Inquiry (UNICOI),
which issued six reports from 1996 through 1998 documenting the illegal sup-
ply of arms to the rebel groups in eastern Zaire. UNICOI reports provided
voluminous evidence of wholesale violations of the arms embargo and con-
tained numerous recommendations for cracking down on arms smuggling
in the region. A breakthrough toward more effective monitoring came in the
case of Angola. In 1999, the Angola sanctions committee became more active
in monitoring sanctions violations and encouraging greater implementation
efforts. The UNSC also appointed a panel of experts and a subsequent monitor-
ing mechanism to improve compliance with the Angola sanctions. The panel
of experts and monitoring mechanism issued a series of reports that focused
continuing attention on sanctions implementation efforts.15
The Angola panel of experts and the monitoring mechanism were followed
by similar investigative panels for Sierra Leone, Afghanistan, and Liberia. An
investigative panel was also created to examine the exploitation of mineral
wealth and natural resources in DRC and to monitor compliance with sanc-
tions after 2003. Panel reports were also commissioned in 2003 for Somalia
and in 2004 for Sudan and Côte d’Ivoire. In each of these settings, the investi-
gative panels produced detailed reports on sanctions violations and smuggling
activities. The Sierra Leone panel of experts focused on the link between arms
trafficking and diamond smuggling and found a pattern of widespread viola-
tions of UN sanctions. The panel issued numerous policy recommendations,
the most important of which was that sanctions be imposed on the government
of Liberia for its role in undermining sanctions implementation and providing
support for the rebels in Sierra Leone.16 Sanctions on the Charles Taylor regime
soon followed.
The UNSC created a monitoring mechanism for Afghanistan in July 2001,
through Resolution 1363, and established an associated Sanctions Enforcement
Support Team to strengthen the implementation of the arms embargo, travel
sanctions, and targeted financial sanctions imposed against the Taliban regime.
After the overthrow of the Taliban, in 2002 the UNSC altered the mission of the
monitoring group through Resolution 1390. It later created a new Analytic Sup-
port and Sanctions Monitoring Team to investigate and provide support for the
continued financial, travel, and arms sanctions on former Taliban leaders and
members of al Qaeda. The Liberia panel of experts report confirmed allegations
of the Monrovia government’s extensive involvement with and support for the
armed rebellion of the Revolutionary United Front (RUF) in Sierra Leone. The
panel recommended a series of measures for strengthening the enforcement of
the arms embargo, diamond embargo, and travel sanctions against Liberia.17
What may prove to be the most noteworthy development of the 1990s was
the emergence of commodity-specific sanctions. Oil embargoes were imposed
as part of the comprehensive sanctions against Iraq. Oil was also named specif-
ically in sanctions imposed on governments in Yugoslavia, Haiti, the National
Union for the Total Independence of Angola (UNITA) group in Angola, and the
military junta in Sierra Leone. An embargo on the export of logs was imposed
against the government of Liberia. Diamond embargoes were introduced in
1998 with the case of Angola. The latter two commodities had taken on labels,
“the logs of war” and “blood diamonds,” respectively, as appropriate indicators
of how detrimental the illicit trade in each has become for disrupting the pros-
pects for stable peace in a war-torn area.
As nongovernmental agencies and human rights groups documented the
role of diamond smuggling in financing the armed rebellions in Angola and
Sierra Leone, the UNSC took action to interdict the trade in blood diamonds.
The council imposed diamond embargoes against UNITA in 1998 through
Resolution 1173, the RUF areas of Sierra Leone in 2000 through Resolution
1306, and the government of Liberia in 2001 through Resolution 1343.
As a means of enforcing these measures, the UN worked with diamond-
exporting countries, the diamond industry, and NGOs to establish the Kimberley
Process, an international agreement among dozens of countries to combat the
trade in conflict-related diamonds. Governments created certificate-of-origin
systems designed to protect the legitimate diamond trade by screening out
blood diamonds. Targeted diamond sanctions became a tool for the UNSC to
shrink the financial base sustaining armed conflict in Africa, and they became
a model for commodity-focused embargoes of the future.18
This survey of expanded UN sanctions policy through smart sanctions
demonstrates that multilateral economic sanctions have matured signifi-
cantly since 1990, as UN diplomats, expert investigators, academic scholars,
nongovernmental analysts, and many others have contributed to a process of
learning, adaptation, and reform. The result has been a substantial transforma-
tion of sanctions policy making and increased likelihood that sanctions will
be humane and effective and will contribute to greater prospects for strategic
peacebuilding.
The targeted, more selective sanctions of recent years, supported by human-
itarian assessment missions and expert panel reports, bear little resemblance
to the poorly monitored, often blunt measures imposed in the early 1990s.
Although many problems remain in the implementation of UNSC sanctions,
the substantial progress of this period has evolved sanctions into a more viable
means of reinforcing other efforts made by the UN or more directly in local
communities to engage in strategic peacebuilding.
Smart Sanctions, Counterterrorism, and Strategic Peacebuilding
There are many ways in which terrorism has been an integral part of interna-
tional and internal wars for decades. Whether in resolved conflicts, as in North-
ern Ireland or South Africa, or in any of the fourteen ongoing violent conflicts in
which at least one of the contending parties has been labeled a terrorist group,
dealing with terrorists past and present poses a complex and challenging issue
for strategic peacebuilding. The deadly and changing parameters of this age of
“new” terrorism are becoming more starkly defined. So are questions about the
appropriateness and effectiveness of current strategies of counterterrorism.
At the core of this debate, and a central factor that makes counterterrorism
related to peacebuilding, are concerns regarding the utility of military force and
the need for a level of cooperation that spans from the local to the global in the
elimination of terrorism. Various reports indicate that despite relative successes
in the global campaign against terrorism, more attacks from al Qaeda and
related groups have occurred since September 11, 2001, than in the years prior
to that date.19 Doubts have been raised about Western strategy, particularly U.S.
action in Afghanistan and Iraq, and its overreliance on military solutions (and
undervaluation of nonmilitary mechanisms) for counterterrorism.
Military force can be useful, and may well be necessary for some counter-
terrorism missions. But in the medium to long-term time period, heavily armed
troops are rarely able to penetrate terrorist networks, and their continued occu-
pation of areas where terrorism exists is likely to breed more resentment and
terrorism. When military force is used excessively, it galvanizes support for the
jihadists and has the direct opposite effects from those intended. A growing
number of analysts agree that defeating al Qaeda and related networks will
require a multifaceted strategy encompassing a wide range of policy tools and
forms of international cooperation.20
Countering this multifaceted and complex terrorist threat requires many
of the same structural arrangements for international cooperation and engage-
ment in specific substantive issues that are required in strategic peacebuilding.
Organizationally, both counterterrorism and strategic peacebuilding succeed if
they entail a broadly cooperative effort involving legal, economic, political, and
social cooperation from virtually every nation in the world, and from civil soci-
ety sectors, both internal and transnational. For each, actions taken and policies
that are prioritized should focus on concerns for good governance, economic
development, and the protection of human rights.
The United Nations is particularly relevant and important to this counter-
terrorism effort as it is the primary source of international political legitimacy
and legal authority for many nations. Although the recent history of the United
Nations taking up this responsibility reveals how it frequently lacks resources
and operational capacity, it is indispensable in developing political consensus
for the international cooperation required to counter the terrorist threat. Exam-
ining the successes and shortcomings of the UN role in counterterrorism since
9/11 can help determine the prospects of strategic peacebuilding taking root in
particular war-torn locales.21
The modern era of UN involvement against terrorism began in the 1990s,
when the UNSC adopted Resolution 748 (1992) calling on Libya to cease its
support of terrorism and turn over suspects wanted in connection with the
bombings of Pan Am flight 103 and French UTA flight 772. Targeted UN
sanctions against Libya, in combination with more comprehensive measures
by the United States, were successful in dissuading the country from further
support for terrorism and eventually led to the extradition of the bombing sus-
pects for trial at The Hague. UN sanctions against Libya were accompanied by
extensive diplomatic dialogue and the promise of economic benefit to encour-

age Libyan reengagement with the world community. This led to Tripoli’s
agreement, in 2003, to dismantle its programs for the development of weapons
of mass destruction.
UNSC sanctions to counter terrorism were also employed against Sudan
(Resolution 1054 in 1996) for harboring Osama bin Laden and what later
evolved into al Qaeda. In 1999, Afghanistan (Resolution 1267) was also a target
for sanctions as the United Nations became more active in applying pressure
on regimes that supported or harbored terrorist operations. These UNSC sanc-
tions efforts were closely integrated with intelligence and diplomatic efforts by
the United States and other countries and played an important (if little noticed)
role in mobilizing international pressure against state support of terrorism.22
In the wake of the September 2001 attacks, the United Nations launched a
second, more expansive phase of its campaign against international terrorism.
Targeting the diverse and widely dispersed transnational networks of al Qaeda
and other related nonstate actors, the Security Council adopted resolution 1373
(2001) mandating a worldwide campaign by all 191 UN member states to deny
finances, travel, or assistance of any kind to terrorists and those who support
them. Resolution 1373 created the Counter-Terrorism Committee (CTC), and
three years later the council adopted SCR1535 (2004) to strengthen the CTC
through the creation of an unprecedented Counter-Terrorism Executive Direc-
torate (CTED). To complete its cluster of constraints on terrorism operations,
the UNSC also adopted resolutions 1540 and 1566 (both in 2004), prohibiting
the transfer of weapons of mass destruction or related materials to nonstate
actors and calling on UN member states to strengthen their cooperation with
UN counterterrorism mandates.
These efforts have produced an unprecedented expansion of UN coun-
terterrorism activities and a parallel increase in counterterrorism committees
and professional staffing. They stimulated significant international action to
build counterterrorism capacity, particularly in the former Soviet bloc and in
the global South. The UN counterterrorism program has also sparked greater
international cooperation and coordination among regional and subregional
organizations, along with specialized international agencies. These UN coun-
terterrorism efforts face numerous challenges and contradictions, as we exam-
ine shortly, but they have been partially effective in establishing global legal
requirements and building international cooperation in the fight against
terrorism.
As was the case in the increased resort to sanctions in the UNSC after 1990,
after the adoption of Resolution 1373, and when faced with the kind of national
security challenge that terrorism poses, there has been a natural tendency for
large and powerful states to want to “go it alone” in countering the danger or
to overmanage whatever cooperation institution they use to counter terror. The
result has been that the multifaceted strategies needed to actually succeed in
counterterrorism have been slow to develop, especially regarding the effective
use of regional and international organizations among other actors. In fact,
there have been some significant differences among the powerful democratic
states that have retarded the possibilities for effective peacebuilding via coun-
terterrorism.
In the days following the 9/11 attacks, and again at the G8 summits in 2005
and 2006, European and U.S. leaders acknowledged their shared vulnerability
and vowed to work together in the global fight against terrorism. Over time,
however, the underlying counterterrorism strategies of the United States and
Europe diverged. Most notably, the European community has adopted a more
institutionalized, rule-based approach, as opposed to the ad hoc and extralegal
efforts employed by the United States. On the continent, information sharing
and cooperation among a wide range of agencies are the norm. Europe’s open
society and removal of border controls make it easier for extremists to operate,
but the high degree of law enforcement cooperation among dozens of coun-
tries is more easily facilitated by the same openness, and it provides important
protections. Many terrorist operations have been disrupted and militant sus-
pects arrested through the cooperative efforts of European law enforcement
agencies.23
Another major difference between the United States and Europe—indeed,
between the United States and most of the world—is the degree of importance
accorded the United Nations as a principal actor. In Europe and most other
regions of the world, the legal authorization and political leadership of the
United Nations are indispensable for cooperative international action against
terrorism. UNSC Resolution 1373 (2001) and other counterterrorism measures
provided the essential legal and political authorization permitting nations and
regions to act. In the United States, by contrast, there is greater disdain for inter-
national legal agreements and a more critical view of the United Nations. The
significant institutional mechanisms of the CTC and CTED in particular war-
rant more detailed analysis because their effectiveness and relationship to stra-
tegic peacebuilding can be more readily assessed than was possible earlier.24
Advancing the Shared Tasks: Good Governance, Development,

and Human Rights
As the international community has gained more experience in the strengths

and shortcomings of varied approaches to counterterrorism, especially those
measures that rely heavily on the integration of global mandates with local
implementation, it has become increasingly clear that capacity-building and
institutional development of civil society organizations and of good govern-
ment itself are critical to success. Moreover, counterterrorism in its best form
correlates directly to strategic peacebuilding in that the most significant CTC
and UN successes in the former have been efforts to increase the capacity of
national elites and institutions, as well as sectors of civil society, to improve
their contribution to good governance. In addition, the development of suc-
cessful counterterrorism, especially when the concerns of the global South and
transnational civil society are heard, addresses issues of economic develop-
ment and considers the enhancement of human rights, not their compromise,
as both a means and a goal. This integrates many of the ends and means of
sanctions and incentives-based counterterrorism with those of strategic peace-
building.
Many of the measures required by UNSC Resolution 1373—creating more
effective law enforcement capabilities; improving border, immigration, and
customs controls; regulating banks and financial institutions; enhancing secu-
rity at ports and border crossings—parallel the steps needed to strengthen good
governance. These steps are increasingly recognized as essential to economic
development and the expansion of social and economic opportunity. Trade and
investment depend on stable government and the rule of law. Thus, technical
assistance programs that build governance capacity also advance the prospects
for economic development. There are ways diverse multilateral agencies have
engaged in counterterrorism, and the CTC/CTED as facilitating organizations,
have learned important lessons in these areas.
This linkage between technical assistance and economic development
indicates that multilateral aid strategies need to be focused on both integrated
economic development and the provision of technical assistance to meet coun-
terterrorism requirements and long-term peacebuilding needs. Recent policy
papers from the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development/
Development Assistance Committee (OECD/DAC) have highlighted the links
between development cooperation and terrorism prevention.25 The DAC has
argued that the fundamental goal of poverty reduction shared by all develop-
ment agencies can help prevent an environment hospitable to terrorism. Cer-
tainly the legitimacy of development objectives should not be threatened, but it
is evident that development funders can do much to contribute to the basic goal
of enhancing counterterrorism capacity and the potential of strategic peace-
building. Moreover, greater development assistance can help address the root
causes of terrorism. Many of the adverse social conditions in which terrorists
thrive fall within the realm of primary concerns for development cooperation.
To realize these goals, greater direct dialogue is needed between security
officials and the staff of development agencies, with the goal of identifying
where counterterrorism and good governance agendas overlap and are mutu-
ally reinforcing.26 Counterterrorism activities are traditionally viewed very dif-
ferently by the security and development communities, paralleling similar
tensions between the security and the peacebuilding communities. As it often
unfolds, the former tend to be mainly concerned with enforcement and protec-
tion, whereas the latter have a focus on more fundamental structural issues.
The close relationship between security and development is increasingly
acknowledged as the development community aims to support the optimum
functioning of civil society institutions.27 Conversely, there is also recognition
among security sector actors that short-term operations related to counterter-
rorism will not bring sustainable benefit without corresponding attention to
underlying longer term development work.
The brief history of global counterterrorist efforts underscores the impera-
tive that various actors must reinforce development and good governance goals
as well as security capacity in government in a mutually beneficial cycle. These
aims are interdependent and rely on the same factors for success, including par-
ticipatory processes, transparency, and accountability. Technical aid and advice
have become significant aspects of development assistance for many nations,
particularly those with low levels of state capacity to meet the requirements of
global counterterrorism mandates. The prospect of increased development aid
and capacity-building assistance could be an inducement for many states to
implement more completely UN mandates. A program of providing increased
development assistance in combination with security-related capacity-building
efforts could be highly attractive to many developing nations.
The CTC has been tasked with facilitating the provision of technical assist-
ance to help nations of goodwill comply with UN counterterrorism require-
ments. What the CTC has learned in this process has been both enlightening
and discouraging regarding the depth of the need for linking good governance
with development aid. These lessons include the following.
• Relatively few countries have the extensive legal, administrative, and

regulatory capacities needed to freeze financial assets, prevent the
travel of designated individuals, deny safe haven to terrorists and
their supporters, and suppress the recruitment and military supply of
terrorist groups.28
• Many states face deep deficiencies in their operational and
administrative capacity to implement UNSC counterterrorism
mandates. Moreover, many states lack expertise even to determine
their deficiencies in implementation capacity. These nations need
improvements in legislation and legal authority, as well as better
administrative machinery and equipment to implement legislative
mandates. Their bureaucrats need training and performance guidance
in meeting the standards.
• A significant number of states need help improving policing and law
enforcement systems and creating financial regulatory mechanisms
and financial intelligence units. Assistance may also be needed
for the development of computerized links among security-related
units, improved systems for identifying fraudulent travel documents,
better mechanisms for controlling customs and immigration, and
computerized equipment to screen passengers and cargo at border
entry points.
• The demand for this kind of assistance far outpaces supply. Nearly
100 countries have expressed an interest in technical assistance from
the CTC,29 although the actual number of states needing assistance is
greater.
Acting as a global switchboard of sorts, the CTC made some headway

in connecting needy national bureaucracies with states, institutions, and pro-
fessional groups that might assist them. The primary international organi-
zations providing various types of assistance have been the United Nations
Office on Drugs and Crime/Terrorism Prevention Branch, the Commonwealth
Secretariat, and the International Monetary Fund (IMF). Member countries

of the OECD have also provided legislative drafting assistance on a bilateral
basis. The IMF has been the main source of assistance for drafting legislation
to counter the financing of terrorism.30
In the last area of concern for peacebuilding and counterterrorism—
humanitarianism and human rights—the experience of the recent past reveals
deep divisions among various actors. In some cases, including UNSC perma-
nent members Russia, the United States, and China, national government
officials have used the fight against terrorism as a justification for limiting dem-
ocratic freedoms and suppressing dissident and minority groups or targeting
specific individuals. The human rights NGO community has been aggressively
defending human rights, often by condemning counterterrorism strategies
and actions. IGOs, especially the UN, have attempted to articulate not only a
defense of human rights in a time of terrorism but the argument that these
two policy goals—enhanced human rights and effective counterterrorism—
are not in a zero-sum relationship. Thus, Secretary General Kofi Annan stated
in 2003:
There is no trade-off to be made between human rights and terror-

ism. Upholding human rights is not at odds with battling terrorism:
on the contrary, the moral vision of human rights—the deep respect
for the dignity of each person—is among our most powerful weapons
against it. To compromise on the protection of human rights would
hand terrorists a victory they cannot achieve on their own. The pro-
motion and protection of human rights . . . should, therefore, be at
the centre of anti-terrorism strategies.31
Two years later, in his address at the Madrid summit in March 2005,
Annan expressed regret that “many measures which States are currently adopt-
ing to counter terrorism are infringing on human rights and fundamental
freedoms.”32 This theme was echoed in the UN High-Level Panel, which cau-
tioned that “approaches to terror focusing wholly on military, police and intel-
ligence measures risk undermining efforts to promote good governance and
human rights.”33 Annan included the defense of human rights as one of the
five pillars of global counterterrorism strategy.34 UNSC Resolution 1456 stated:
“States must ensure that any measure taken to combat terrorism comply with
all their obligations under international law, and should adopt such measures
in accordance with international law, in particular international human rights,
refugee, and humanitarian law.”35
A strong case can be made that protecting human rights and strengthen-
ing democracy are essential over the long run to the fight against terrorism.
Protecting human rights and guaranteeing the freedom to voice dissenting
views without government interference can help prevent the rise of political
extremism.36 This claim is not a political preference as much as an empiri-
cal trend worth noting. For example, a National Academy of Sciences study in
2002 noted, “terrorism and its supporting audiences appear to be fostered by
policies of extreme political repression and discouraged by policies of incor-

porating both dissident and moderate groups into civil society and the politi-
cal process.”37 The 2002 UN Policy Working Group observed that “a lack of
hope for justice provides breeding grounds for terrorism.”38 People without
an opportunity to voice their opinions and organize politically often turn to
violence as the only way of expressing grievances. As Alan Krueger observed in
the New York Times, “the freedom to assemble and protest peacefully without
interference from the government goes a long way to providing an alternative
to terrorism.”39
Human rights organizations have lobbied for greater UN efforts to uphold
these standards, arguing in 2006 that the CTC has “an obligation to ensure
respect for human rights in counter terrorism efforts by member states.”40
In April 2005, the Office of the UN High Commissioner on Human Rights
decided to appoint “a special rapporteur on the promotion and protection of
human rights and fundamental freedoms while countering terrorism.”41 The
first report of the rapporteur, in December 2005, stated that “States are not
receiving a clear enough message from the [Counter-Terrorism] Committee
concerning their duty to respect human rights while countering terrorism.”42
The report also expressed a desire to continue “dialogue with the Committee
and the Counter-Terrorism Executive Directorate including, in particular, the
joint identification and compilation of ‘best practices’ in the field of effective
and human rights compatible responses to terrorism.” As a result, the CTED
now includes an expert on human rights on its staff, which will enhance the
ability of the CTC to ensure that counterterrorism best practices are compat-
ible with respect for human rights. Many observers believe that this progress
would not have occurred if the transnational human rights community had not
mobilized so strongly, and for so long, to attain this objective.43
Coordination, Redundancy, and the New Reform Process in the

UN Counterterrorism System
We began this chapter by describing the evolution of United Nations sanctions

as more humane, “smarter” policy tools to complement strategic peacebuild-
ing. We then discussed how the UNSC decided to employ such smart sanc-
tions techniques in the battle against global terrorism and discussed the new
procedures and institutional actors the UN created for that task. As these proc-
esses unfolded, what became clear was that effective counterterrorism, whether
via smart sanctions or through the work of special agencies, needed to include
strategic assistance provided by the UN and related actors. This work aimed
to support the emergence and sustenance of good governance, increased eco-
nomic development, and the enhancement of human rights. Coming full cir-
cle, these very policy goals for counterterrorism strategy have historically been
associated with the creation of sustainable peace and, thus, are central to stra-
tegic peacebuilding. In the previous section, we further explicated how these
goals relate mostly to positive developments that unfolded under the auspices
of the work of the CTC and CTED, as well as the organizations they drew into
their cooperative orbit.
The achievements we have noted, although authentic, are short-lived. If
the UN system is to play a lead role in the type of counterterrorism that fos-
ters good governance, economic development, and human rights, substantial
additional adaptation and innovation must be forthcoming.44 Next we outline
the problems that have developed that stifle effective counterterrorism action
and provide a series of recommendations for improvement. As with the earlier
discussion, we note how such changes enhance or restrict the prospects for
successful strategic peacebuilding.
The range of regional and international organizations with actual or
potential involvement in the UN counterterrorism mission is vast. Thus far,
the CTC has made important strides in encouraging regional organizations to
strengthen their counterterrorism capacity. Some regional organizations have
created their own counterterrorism units, which share information with the
CTC and attend semiannual regional coordination meetings. The Organiza-
tion of American States (OAS) has played a leading role and has established
a counterterrorism secretariat within the Inter-American Committee against
Terrorism (CICTE). During 2002, the secretariat designed and deployed the
CICTE online antiterrorism database. CICTE also participated in the drafting
of model regulations for the prevention of terrorist financing and in meetings
of the Caribbean Financial Action Task Force. The OAS Convention against
Terrorism entered into effect in July 2003 and, as of February 2004, was signed
by thirty-three of thirty-four member states.
After the Madrid bombings of March 2004, the European Council adopted
the Declaration on Combating Terrorism and created the position of European
coordinator for counterterrorism.45 The Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation
forum had already established a Counter-Terrorism Task Force in February
2003. Similar regional bodies exist within the Commonwealth of Independent
States and the Association of Southeast Asian Nations. The CTC has worked
with these and other regional bodies to enhance overall international coordina-
tion in the campaign against terrorism.
Other geographic regions continue to lag behind. Much of South Asia and
large parts of Africa have not adequately developed the necessary regionally
coordinated mechanisms to facilitate local state implementation of counterter-
rorism resolutions mandated by the UNSC. Progress has been made among
fourteen Arab states with the creation of a Middle East and North Africa FATF-
style regional body, which was formally established in November 2004. Similar
efforts are needed in North Africa and other regions to more effectively address
other key issue areas covered in Resolution 1373, including border control, law
enforcement, and judicial practice. Convening regional and subregional work-
shops to develop best practices, facilitated by the CTC and coordinated by local
bodies, would be an important step toward achieving this task.46
Coordination among international and regional organizations has lost
ground during the past few years, and the CTC has not been able to play as
effective a coordinating role among states and organizations as it did at the
outset of its tenure. Its declining ability to fulfill that function is partly due
to administrative and other limitations imposed by operating within the UN
headquarters in New York, which gravitates toward bureaucratic procedural
approaches to the issues it faces to avoid potential political disagreements. As
primarily a set of political bodies (or purely a political body in the case of the
UNSC), the UN in its grand form is less well suited over time to the task of
implementing many of the technical aspects of the resolutions it adopts. More
effective might be the development of a narrowly defined, specialized agency,
rather than a committee of the council, located in Vienna or Geneva with like-
minded agencies, rather than in New York.47
Coordination and cooperation within the UN system also needs improvement.
Of special concern is the relationship between the CTC and the UNSC committee
and monitoring team established to enforce sanctions against al Qaeda and the
Taliban. The monitoring team established by Resolution 1526 consists of eight staff
members, yet it was tasked with the job of investigating and reporting on mem-
ber state efforts to implement the sanctions measures. Coordination between the
monitoring team and the CTED has been strained at times.
Inadequate cooperation between the monitoring team and CTED is part
of a larger problem of overlap and poor coordination among the dozens of UN
bodies addressing terrorism-related issues. There are now four special UNSC
bodies working on counterterrorism issues, each with its own staff of experts:
the CTC and the CTED, the al Qaeda and Taliban committee and monitoring
team, the Resolution 1540 committee and staff experts, and the Resolution 1566
committee and working group. These bodies have a combined staff of forty pro-
fessional experts. Although the mandates of the various committees are sepa-
rate, they have many overlapping purposes and responsibilities. UN member
states have obligations with respect to all four committees. The potential for the
duplication of efforts and bureaucratic inefficiency under these circumstances is
considerable. Reforming these inefficiencies and tackling the future challenges
—as we outline shortly—are critical to the long-term viability of a counterter-
rorism policy that would actually contribute to peace and peacebuilding.
A long-term consideration for the future of the UN counterterrorism pro-
gram—and for linking it more demonstrably to the UN purpose of building
peace—is the prospect of creating a new international agency to combat ter-
rorism. Monitoring the implementation of states’ counterterrorism obligations
requires a long-term and unwavering commitment—one that will not diminish
as the memories of the most recent horrific terrorist attack fade or if the UNSC
is seized with specific threats to international peace and security that require its
urgent attention. Some states may take decades to develop their infrastructure
to fully implement the counterterrorism obligations imposed by the UNSC
and international treaties. Given the importance and long-term nature of the
task, and the above-mentioned political and institutional limitations of working
within the UN, serious consideration should be given to studying alternative
models to the current approach, including the establishment of a dedicated
counterterrorism organization outside of New York.
Creating a new agency would also be a means of giving greater priority and
more permanence to the global fight against terrorism. Counterterrorism—
one of the key security tasks of our era—is one of the few issues for which
there is not a dedicated international agency. Human rights, refugees, chemical
weapons, children’s rights, and many other issues all—quite appropriately—
have specialized agencies that are reasonably well resourced and operate within
the UN system. It seems appropriate that a similar agency be created in the
field of counterterrorism.48
It is conceivable that the CTED might create a precedent for and eventually
evolve into a larger counterterrorism agency. Combining CTED with the staffs of
the sanctions monitoring team and the two other counterterrorism expert groups
would immediately create a sizable agency, one that then could be expanded on
as nations determine the need. Ideally, such an agency should function within
the UN system and operate under the authority of the UNSC, as is the case with
the International Atomic Energy Agency. This would enable the proposed agency
to bring matters to the attention of the council. It would give greater political
weight to its operations and link it to potential enforcement authority.
Whether other UN member states will support an expansion of CTC/CTED
capacity or the creation of a new international organization remains uncertain.
The debate on these issues has yet to be joined. What has been agreed by many,
as illustrated by this chapter, is that the structure and function of global coun-
terterrorism efforts need to be dynamically integrated. As is the case in strate-
gic peacebuilding, the structural underpinning that authoritatively administers
a set of policies must do so in a manner that is inclusive of all relevant actors
affected by policy. In addition, the form and the function of this inclusivity
should produce greater peace and justice in dealing with difficult conflict situa-
tions. These are but a few of the critical issues that need to be addressed as the
UNSC considers future options for creating greater organizational capacity in
the struggle against international terrorism.
Achieving these ambitious objectives will be a difficult and long-term proc-
ess. Preventive strategies pose enormous challenges for the United Nations
and for the world’s leading countries. A comprehensive approach includes not
only coercive measures but also persuasive policies that seek to win hearts and
minds. Like the other dimensions of successful counterterrorism strategy and
strategic peacebuilding, this longer term preventive effort depends on a greater
commitment to cooperation, multilateral action, the rule of law within good
governance, and, particularly, a deep respect for human rights.
NOTES
Research for this chapter was supported by generous grants from the Royal
Danish Ministry for International Affairs and the U.S. Institute of Peace. The
authors also acknowledge the research assistance provided by Benjamin Rooney and
Oldrich Bures, as well as students in the spring 2004 Counter-Terrorism Research
Seminar at the University of Notre Dame. This chapter closely parallels portions of a
policy document titled An Action Agenda for Enhancing the United Nations Program on
Counter-Terrorism (Goshen, Ind.: Fourth Freedom Forum, 2004).
1. Though some observers view the active use of Security Council sanctions as
a fulfillment of functions envisioned by the founding members of the UN, skepticism
regarding the legal basis of comprehensive UN sanctions and controversies regarding
the reach of Chapter VII authorization have been a concern to a number of analysts.
See Paul Conlon, United Nations Sanctions Management: A Case Study of the Iraq Sanc-
tions Committee, 1990–1994, Procedural Aspects of International Law Series
(Ardsley, N.Y.: Transnational Publishers, 2000); and Vera Growlland-Debbas, ed.,
United Nations Sanctions and International Law. The Graduate Institute of International
Studies, vol. 1 (The Hague: Kluwer Law International, 2001).
2. The most articulate and consistent of these analysts is Joy Gordon, “Sanctions
as Siege Warfare,” The Nation, March 1999; and “Cool War: Economic Sanctions as a
Weapon of Mass Destruction,” Harper’s, August 2, 2002.
3. David Cortright and George A. Lopez, The Sanctions Decade: Assessing UN
Security Council Sanctions in the 1990s (Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 2000),
pp. 14–32.
4. Peter Wallensteen and Carina Staibano, eds., International Sanctions: Between
Words and Wars in the Global System (New York: Frank Cass, 2005).
5. Our past research confirms this mix of coercion and the promise of its release
as a bargaining tool that increases the likelihood of sanctions success. See David
Cortright and George A. Lopez, The Sanctions Decade, especially chapter 2.
6. We provide a more detailed account of this history in David Cortright, George
A. Lopez, and Linda Gerber-Stellingwerf, “Sanctions,” in Thomas G. Weiss and Sam
Daws, eds., The Oxford Handbook on the United Nations (New York: Oxford University
Press, 2007), pp. 349–369.
7. For an overview of these targeted sanctions see, David Cortright and George
A. Lopez, eds., Smart Sanctions: Targeting Economic Statecraft (Lanham, Md.: Rowman
& Littlefield, 2002); and Wallensteen and Staibano, International Sanctions.
8. Claudia Von Braunmühl and Manfred Kulessa, The Impact of UN Sanctions
on Humanitarian Assistance Activities, Report on a Study Commissioned by the United
Nations Department of Humanitarian Affairs (Berlin: Gesellschaft für Communication
Management Interkultur Training, December 1995).
9. Larry Minear et al., Toward More Humane and Effective Sanctions Management:
Enhancing the Capacity of the United Nations System, Occasional Paper 31 (Providence,
R.I.: Thomas J. Watson Jr. Institute for International Studies, Brown University, 1998).
10. Manuel Bessler, Richard Garfield, and Gerard McHugh, Sanctions Assessment
Handbook: Assessing the Humanitarian Implications of Sanctions (New York: United
Nations Inter-Agency Standing Committee, 2004).
11. For more detailed analysis of arms embargoes, see Andy Knight, The United
Nations and Arms Embargoes Verification (Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen Press, 1998);
and Michael Brzoska and George A. Lopez, eds., Putting Teeth in the Tiger (forthcoming).
12. United Nations Security Council, Letter Dated 24 September 1996 from the
Chairman of the Security Council Committee Established Pursuant to Resolution 724 (1991)
Concerning Yugoslavia Addressed to the President of the Security Council, Report of the
Copenhagen Roundtable on United Nations Sanctions in the Case of the Former Yugoslavia,
Held at Copenhagen on 24 and 25 June 1996, S/1996/776, New York, September 24,
1996, paras. 33 and 34.
13. See Damien Fruchart et al., United Nations Arms Embargoes, SIPRI and SPITS
of Uppsala University, November 2007.
14. Much of the analysis that follows is drawn from our earlier work, especially
Cortright et al., “Sanctions”, and Cortright and Lopez, Sanctions and the Search for
Security, pp. 204–217.
15. United Nations Security Council, Report of the Panel of Experts on Violations
of Security Council Sanctions against UNITA (UN document S/2000/203), March 10,
2000; Interim Report of the Monitoring Mechanism on Angola Sanctions Established by the
Security Council in Resolution 1295 (2000) of April 2000 (UN document S/2000/1026),
October 25, 2000; Final Report of the Monitoring Mechanism on Angola Sanctions
(UN document S/2000/1225), December 21, 2000; Addendum to the Final Report of
the Monitoring Mechanism on Sanctions against UNITA (UN document S/2001/363),
April 11, 2001; Supplementary Report of the Monitoring Mechanism on Sanctions against
UNITA (UN document S/2001/966), October 12, 2001; Additional Report of the
Monitoring Mechanism on Sanctions against UNITA (UN document S/2002/486),
April 26, 2002; and Additional Report of the Monitoring Mechanism on Sanctions against
UNITA (UN document S/2002/1119), October 16, 2002.
16. United Nations Security Council, Report of the Panel of Experts Appointed
Pursuant to Security Resolution 1306 (2000), Paragraph 19, in Relation to Sierra Leone,
(UN document S/2000/1195), December 20, 2000.
17. United Nations Security Council, Report of the Panel of Experts Pursuant to
Security Council Resolution 1343 (2001), Paragraph 19, Concerning Liberia (UN document
S/2001/1015), October 26, 2001.
18. David Cortright, George A. Lopez, and Linda Gerber, “The Viability of Com-
modity Sanctions: The Case of Diamonds,” in Cortright and A. Lopez, Sanctions and
the Search for Security, pp. 181–200.
19. Richard A. Clarke et al., Defeating the Jihadists: A Blueprint for Action
(Washington, D.C.: Century Foundation Press, 2004).
20. See, for example, Paul Wilkinson, Terrorism versus Democracy: The Liberal
State Response (London: Frank Cass, 2003).
21. Much of the discussion that follows relies heavily on David Cortright and George
A. Lopez, eds. Uniting against Terror (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2007), pp. 3–12.
22. The history and details of these cases are chronicled in Cortright and Lopez,
The Sanctions Decade and Cortright and Lopez, Sanctions and the Search for Security.
23. Karen Greenberg, From the Editor: European Counterterrorism and Its Impli-
cations for the U.S. War on Terror, Special Edition, NYU Review of Law and Security 2
(Summer 2005): 2–3.
24. Our own policy work in this area led us to write a series of interim reports on
the CTC and CTED. Some of the material in the sections that follow are drawn from
those reports as well as from David Cortright et al., “Global Cooperation against Ter-
rorism,” in Cortright and Lopez, eds., Uniting against Terror, pp. 23–46.
25. Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, A Development
Co-operation Lens on Terrorism Prevention: Key Entry Points for Action. DAC Guidelines
and Reference Series (Paris: OECD, 2003).
26. Steven Monblatt, Executive Secretary, Inter-American Committee against
Terrorism, Organization of American States, “Developing Regional Cooperation”
(statement at the CTC special meeting, Almaty, Kazakhstan, January 26–27, 2005).
27. A recent example is DAC/GOVNET, The Challenge of Capacity Development:
Working towards Good Practice, February 1, 2006.
28. United Nations Security Council, Security Council Resolution 1377 (2001),
S/RES/1377, New York, November 12, 2001.
29. Curtis Ward, personal communication with authors, June 16, 2004.
30. Curtis A. Ward, “Purposes and Scope: Technical Assistance Activities in the
Counter-Terrorism Committee” (unpublished paper, 2004), p. 16.
31. Kofi Annan, “Conference Report” (keynote address, conference on “Fighting Ter-
rorism for Humanity,” International Peace Academy, New York, September 22, 2003), p. 10.
32. United Nations, “Secretary General Offers Global Strategy for Fighting Ter-
rorism, in Address to Madrid Summit,” SG/SM/9757, press release, Madrid, Spain,
March 10, 2005.
33. United Nations, A More Secure World: Our Shared Responsibility: Report of the
Secretary-General’s High-Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change, A/59/565, para. 147.
34. Report of the Secretary-General, Uniting against terrorism: recommendations
for a global counter-terrorism strategy, A/60/825. New York, United Nations General
Assembly, April 27, 2006, http://www.un.org/unitingagainstterrorism/sg-terrorism-
2may06.pdf (accessed May 18, 2006), section VI, paras. 110–118.
35. United Nations Security Council, Security Council Resolution 1456 (2003),
S/RES/1456, New York, January 20, 2003, para. 6.
36. Alan Krueger, “Economic Scene,” New York Times, May 29, 2002.
37. John Gershman, “A Secure America in a Secure World,” Foreign Policy in
Focus Special Report, FPI Task Force on Terrorism, September, 2004.
38. United Nations General Assembly, Security Council, Report of the Policy
Working Group on the United Nations and Terrorism, A/57/273-S/2002/875, New York,
August 6, 2002, para. 16.
39. Krueger, “Economic Scene.”
40. See, for example, Human Rights Watch, “Open Letter to the United
Nations Counter-Terrorism Committee,” January 25, 2005, http://hrw.org/english/
docs/2005/01/25/uzbeki10074_txt.htm (accessed May 9, 2006).
41. Human Rights Resolution 2005/80, “Protection of Human Rights and
Fundamental Freedoms While Countering Terrorism,” http://ap.ohchr.org/
documents/E/CHR/resolutions/E-CN_4-RES-2005–80.doc (accessed June 21, 2006).
42. Report of the Special Rapporteur on the promotion and protection of human
rights and fundamental freedoms while countering terrorism, E/CN.4/2006/98.
December 28, 2005, http://daccessdds.un.org/doc/UNDOC/GEN/G05/168/84/PDF/
G0516884.pdf?OpenElement (accessed June 21, 2006)
43. Rosemary Foot, “The United Nations, Counterterrorism, and Human Rights:
Institutional Adaptation and Embedded Ideas,” Human Rights Quaterly 29 (2007):
489–514.
44. For a full explication of these reforms, see Cortright and Lopez, Unit-
ing against Terror, pp. 237–272; and Eric Rosand, “Global Terrorism: Multilateral
Responses to an Extraordinary Threat,” Coping with Crisis Working Paper Series (New
York: International Peace Academy, April 2007).
45. The text of the declaration is available online at the European Union, http://
www.eu2004.ie/templates/document_file.asp?id=10707 (accessed August 20, 2004).
46. Reports received by the CTC show deficiencies in regions with less developed
regional organizational capacity to assist states in implementing Resolution 1373. More
information on the Eastern and Southern African Anti-Money Laundering Group is
available online at the OECD, http://www1.oecd.org/fatf/Ctry-orgpages/org-esaamlg_
en.htm (accessed June 15, 2004).
47. This recommendation also appears in Rosand, “Global Terrorism.”
48. See Eric Rosand, “The UN Security Council’s Counter-Terrorism Efforts,”
in Roy S. Lee, ed., Swords into Plowshares: Building Peace through the United Nations
(Leiden: Nijhoff, 2006), pp. 73–83.
8
Peace and Justice?
The Contribution of International Judicial
Processes to Peacebuilding
Robert C. Johansen
In discussions about how to end armed conflicts and nurture

peacebuilding, some observers argue that pursuing justice by trying
to bring political leaders accused of horrible crimes to trial often
interferes with achieving a cease-fire agreement and sustaining
peace thereafter.1 On the other hand, human rights advocates claim
there can be no lasting peace without justice and no deterrence of
crimes without judicial action against perpetrators. Yet in Michael
P. Scharf’s words, “history appears to be replete with many instances
of peace based on injustice, as well as situations where pursuing
justice has thwarted the quest for peace, and where justice has been
successfully traded for peace.”2 Investigations of mass murder and
prosecutions of those responsible for it may increase instability and
deepen hostility among adversarial groups in one society but
contribute to a sense of political catharsis that relaxes tensions,
enables social healing, and opens the door to restorative justice in
another. Context matters.
The establishment of the International Criminal Court (ICC)
has brought the possible trade-off between justice and peace more
directly to the forefront because of the increased possibility that polit-
ical leaders may be indicted for war crimes or crimes against human-
ity, thereby motivating them to resist a peace agreement unless and
until it offers them amnesty from future prosecution. On one hand,
arguments for seeking justice and disallowing impunity for wrong-
doers are compelling, not only because justice, impartially pursued,
is desirable in itself and may deter future crimes, but also because
the truth-revealing function of trials and the public act of assigning
moral responsibility for crimes may contribute to sustainable peace
and reconciliation in the long run. On the other hand, arguments for achieving
an immediate peace in a society being torn apart by ongoing war and for pro-
viding incentives to stop fighting are also compelling. If at times it seems that
trade-offs between the two values are necessary, what should be done?3
In this chapter I argue that to maximize both peace and justice, interna-
tional judicial institutions, the United Nations, national governments, and
human rights organizations should adopt a rule-based utilitarian ethic in which
lessons learned from past judicial proceedings to enforce human rights law and
prudential political bargaining for peace should be synthesized to achieve the
lowest possible (estimated) loss of life, considering both the short and the long
term.4 Although this thesis is necessarily imprecise because it is impossible to
predict accurately the future of conflict, especially in strife-ridden societies, it
offers a clear guideline that can be helpful in decision making, for judicial offic-
ers and political negotiators as well as the public at large. Moreover, this the-
sis encourages a more creative synthesis of lessons learned from both judicial
proceedings and political negotiations for cease-fires than has been developed
up to now.
The central question of this analysis is: to what extent and in what ways
do international judicial processes contribute to peace and peacebuilding? The
discussion begins with a look at the meaning of peacebuilding, followed by
some cautionary comments about the difficulties of drawing causal connec-
tions between judicial proceedings and peacebuilding. Second, the discussion
explores common consequences of judicial activism—that is, arguments for
and against investigating and prosecuting those who are accused of geno-
cide, crimes against humanity, and war crimes. Third, I suggest guidelines for
designing and conditionally employing judicial proceedings to encourage an
end to ongoing violent conflict and discourage the resumption of violence after
a cease-fire. These are based on lessons drawn from recent conflicts and inter-
national judicial practice. Fourth, the analysis closes with a discussion of how
to maximize both peace and justice in peacebuilding strategies.
This analysis confirms the idea that international judicial practices are
most conducive to peacebuilding when they are understood to be only one
of many factors in strategic peacebuilding and when they are deliberately
employed as part of an overall strategy thoughtfully orchestrating a wide range
of related legal, political, economic, and public education practices—a central
theme advanced by John Paul Lederach and Scott Appleby in their Overview, by
Daniel Philpott in the Introduction, and by the contributors to this book more
generally. For instance, judicial practices can easily be discredited and thought
to be divisive if they are viewed in isolation and expected to do much more
than they are able to do. But they can do well in establishing accountability for
wrong-doing and in reaffirming socially constructive norms for conduct, while
receiving approval from local people for these contributions, if other initiatives,
perhaps from a truth commission, a legislature, educational media, religious
organizations, or well-trained police and national judicial processes take up
other tasks that international judicial institutions cannot manage but which do
need to occur for healing to result.
PEACE AND JUSTICE? 191
Definitions, Causality, and Assumptions
Definitions
It is useful to note at the outset that the two concepts of peacebuilding and
justice-seeking share several goals: to prevent future violations of fundamental
human rights norms, strengthen the rule of international and national law,
address the consequences and injustices of past abuses, promote understand-
ing and reconciliation in a violence-ridden society, and reshape the interna-
tional system in ways that will increase compliance with norms of peace and
human rights in the long run.
One’s definition of peacebuilding heavily influences one’s calculus of the
“contribution of international judicial proceedings to peacebuilding.” Within
this chapter, peacebuilding means “social integration.” Within “social” I include
political, economic, legal, and other dimensions of social life. “Social integra-
tion” can occur in a tiny village community, a city, a state, or the international
community. If social integration can occur in international society, as I think it
can, then peacebuilding can also occur in the international community among
national societies, as well as among different groups inside a state. The latter
locus for peacebuilding is widely accepted; the former is often ignored. A con-
cept of peacebuilding that includes the former takes account of cross-border
interactions and international norms and institutions that promise to increase
the willingness and ability of states to prevent violence among themselves and
within their societies.
“Globalization” may bring either social integration or disintegration. It may
increase transnational cross-cutting social cleavages—an integrative function
of social conflicts—or decrease them, in which case it could eventually build
a global apartheid system. The peacebuilding (social integration) discussed in
this chapter includes both horizontal and vertical dimensions of integration.
“Strategic peacebuilding” includes all dimensions of social integration from the
local to the global. At their best, international judicial proceedings contribute to
peacebuilding at every level, from the smallest village that suffered an atrocity
to the system of global order. Peacebuilding as processes of social integration
includes efforts “to establish effective governance institutions, strengthen the
rule of law, encourage sustainable development, and build trust between citi-
zens and the state, as well as among citizens themselves.”5 Thus, all the main
issues in the choices over how to make peace and whether to pursue justice
through judicial proceedings are relevant to the peacebuilding strategist.
As suggested, for purposes of careful analysis, peacebuilding needs to be
defined to include not only its impact within a state but also its impact on inter-
state relations, and its possible impact on the nature of the global order itself. If
international judicial processes contribute to intrastate peacebuilding by deter-
ring crimes in a particular society, for example, these processes may indirectly
affect other societies as well. In addition, these processes may influence mili-
tary conduct between countries by reinforcing, for example, the expectation that
violations of the Geneva Conventions will receive international attention if a

national government does not honor the conventions or if alleged violations are
not handled in an appropriate way by domestic judicial institutions. There is
some evidence, for example, that the number and scope of atrocities in Darfur
declined, although they were not totally halted, after word spread that the ICC
would attempt to prosecute crimes there.6 In the long run, recurring expectations
among countries that international legal procedures are an ever-present reality
can modify state conduct and eventually the structure of international relations.
Constructivist studies of the role of international norms have also shown that
norms may influence people’s identities, because the internalization of norms
constitutes identities as well as shapes the legitimacy of major political institu-
tions.7 In a genuine sense, expanding the rule of law among nations through
international judicial proceedings can help “domesticate” the international sys-
tem.8 The domestication process can be viewed as (global) systemic peacebuild-
ing, transforming the global order into a more effective rule-of-law society.
Because the boundary between domestic and international politics is
increasingly porous, and because relevant actors are not limited to states, either
in terms of upholding human rights or violating them, we ought not to take
a primarily state-centric perspective in studying peacebuilding. Transnational
political and economic relations may affect peacebuilding as much as inter-
national political and economic relations, as this examination of the role of
international judicial processes will demonstrate.
When I speak of the rule of law or of a “rule-of-law society,” I mean to
invoke a society in which a broad range of democratic values and time-honored
judicial practices are present, including fair elections; freedom of speech, press,
and assembly; robust guarantees for minority rights that limit majority rule
to ensure respect for nonderogable human rights; checks and balances; wide-
spread support for the belief that law should be impartially implemented and
adjudicated, with due process protections, and that law should be no respecter
of persons. This kind of a rule-of-law society is certainly conducive to realizing
the values of human dignity and is a primary manifestation of peacebuilding.
As defining the rule of law can be controversial, my description is intended to
be fully consistent with the UN Secretary General’s definition of the concept as
“a principle of governance in which all persons, institutions and entities, public
and private, including the state itself, are accountable to laws that are publicly
promulgated, equally enforced and independently adjudicated, and which are
consistent with international human rights norms and standards.”9 It includes
“measures to ensure adherence to the principles of supremacy of law, equality
before the law, accountability to the law, fairness in the application of the law,
separation of powers, participation in decision-making, legal certainty, avoid-
ance of arbitrariness and procedural and legal transparency.”10
Causal Connections
The purpose of this analysis of international judicial processes and peacebuild-
ing arises from a desire to identify ways that judicial proceedings focused on
PEACE AND JUSTICE ? 193
assessing the responsibility for gross violations of human rights may contrib-
ute to social integration or sustainable peace. Implementing justice through
judicial proceedings, of course, may be desirable in itself, without regard for
whether it contributes to peacebuilding in the short run. Yet it does not make
sense to pursue justice without some regard for its impact on peacebuilding,
because a failure to contribute to the latter could undermine justice as well as
peace further down the road. Thus, we are interested in how the two interact.
In the long run, justice pursued through exemplary judicial processes normally
contributes to peacebuilding.
Of course, the ways that judicial processes may contribute to peacebuild-
ing are extremely complex and influenced by the consequences of other
peacebuilding measures. This study begins with three explicit assumptions.
First is the relatively uncontroversial assumption that enforcing the law dis-
courages illegal conduct. This is widely assumed to be true in domestic legal
systems and no doubt has an analogue in the international legal system,
despite the latter’s highly decentralized nature. Of course it is difficult to
prove that law enforcement increases legal conduct because it is difficult to
know how many people would have broken the law in the absence of enforce-
ment. Thus, it is difficult to know how many lives might be saved by inter-
national enforcement of human rights law, particularly if one attempts to
consider the long-term life-saving benefits of weaving a stronger fabric of
international law. But we can conjecture how many lives might have been
saved by international enforcement of human rights law. Political leaders
orchestrated the killing of more than 2 million people in Cambodia. Hutu
leaders massacred an estimated 800,000 Rwandans in a few weeks. Effec-
tive enforcement of agreed-on international law could have saved most of
these lives in what are only two of many examples where law enforcement
could make dramatic differences.
A second, related assumption is that reducing illegal conduct in the form
of gross violations of human rights contributes to peacebuilding. If many
laws in a society are rights affirming, then legal, predictable conduct dignifies
human life in a rule-of-law society and enhances social integration (peace-
building).
A third assumption is that exemplary law enforcement processes contrib-
ute more to peacebuilding than deeply flawed processes. Not all law enforce-
ment is the same. Obviously, some judicial processes come much closer to
ideal expectations than others. Flawed processes do not “teach” the desired
rule-of-law message. Bad laws or bad legal practice can even undermine respect
for the law. Apartheid, for example, had an elaborate legal framework in South
Africa, yet enforcing its laws did not contribute to peacebuilding. Dictators
and leaders in authoritarian political systems may use judicial prosecutions to
eliminate their opponents and ensure their own power. Although authoritarian
legal systems in China and Vietnam, for example, stabilized those societies,
prevented their fragmentation, and organized effective economic development
programs, these exceptions to the assumption advanced here do not negate the
general principle that the more legal processes appear to be unfair, partisan,
manipulative, truth-denying, one-sided, and corrupt, the less likely they are to
contribute to peacebuilding.
To consider another example, if a revolutionary process is brewing in a
society, law enforcement by a hated government may contribute to violence
and social disintegration, not peacebuilding. Of course even deeply flawed,
draconian legal processes may increase people’s compliance with the law (if
not respect for it) because they are intimidated. To illustrate the complexities,
it seems that Saddam Hussein’s totalitarian political system prevented Kurds,
Shiites, and Sunnis from civil war, but such a system did not contribute much
to peacebuilding in a comprehensive sense. In the present analysis, peacebuild-
ing should not be construed as merely synonymous with maintenance of order
among potentially adversarial groups, although peaceable relations among all
are essential. Here the concept also includes steps toward genuine social inte-
gration in a democratizing society.
A fourth assumption is that to assess the overall impact of judicial prac-
tices on peacebuilding, it is necessary to examine peacebuilding over one or
preferably several decades of time. Good judicial processes not only render a
verdict on a specific case, they also teach the society to respect law and to sup-
port a culture of respect for human rights.
To complicate assessment further, we might ask about the timing of ini-
tiatives: does peacebuilding begin with efforts to arrange a cease-fire among
warring parties, or does it begin only after achieving peace? Some of the same
factors that contribute to peacebuilding before a cease-fire in phase one may
not contribute to peacebuilding after a cease-fire in phase two. To illustrate,
two warring groups in intrastate conflict may advance a cease-fire arrange-
ment by agreeing that there shall be an amnesty for all belligerents. Subse-
quently, having no investigations or prosecutions may cause resentment and
social unrest, especially if a large number of persons in the society were vic-
timized by criminal conduct of one or both parties before the cease-fire. We
must acknowledge that what advances peacebuilding may vary from time1 to
time2, and so on.
Because the prospects for peace are sometimes affected by anticipations
of judicial processes begun before a cease-fire is arranged, it is necessary to
examine (1) conditions under which the prospect of investigations and pros-
ecutions of crimes apparently help end war and (2) other conditions under
which they appear to prolong the fighting. Some ways of ending a war contrib-
ute far more to peacebuilding than others. Even if we focus on the same time
period in a conflict cycle to compare two conflicts, peacebuilding in one society
may be helped by truth telling (postapartheid South Africa) or by prosecutions
(post–World War II Germany), whereas these do not help or are not needed in
another society (post-Franco Spain).
Indeed, “postconflict peacebuilding” can be advanced or undermined by
conduct before a war ends, so a focus on postconflict events alone is too lim-
ited. As experience in the former Yugoslavia demonstrates, certain conduct
during fighting, such as “ethnic cleansing,” can irretrievably embitter rela-
tions among people who previously lived amicably together and frequently
intermarried. Insufficient attention has been given to such “peace-unbuild-

ing” or “peace-dismantling,” perhaps because those elites who exercise mili-
tary power do not like to acknowledge that the application of violent means
often makes matters worse, even if one achieves military victory. There are
many reasons why violent conduct today, which usually kills more civilians
than soldiers and rips time-honored social fabrics quickly to shreds, might
be considered uncivilized: it can easily destroy civility among human groups.
In so doing, it forces peacebuilding to start at a far more difficult, disadvanta-
geous point than before the collective violence began.
Arguments For and Against Judicial Activism
The Rome Statute proclaims a purpose that provides perhaps the best argu-
ment for using international judicial processes: “to guarantee lasting respect
for and the enforcement of international justice.”11 Insofar as international
judicial processes contribute to “lasting respect for . . . justice” they also con-
tribute to peacebuilding because citizens will begin to trust the capacity of judi-
cial institutions, and the willingness of others, to protect them through legal
means, thereby rendering resort to armed conflict undesirable. Especially in
societies with effectively functioning legal and political institutions, progress in
justice-seeking contributes to progress in peacebuilding and vice versa.
Assessing the contributions of international judicial proceedings to peace-
building requires answers to the following seven questions.
1. Do international judicial proceedings help reduce atrocities or estab-
lish cease-fires?
2. Do international judicial proceedings curtail impunity and help deter
future crimes?
3. Do international judicial proceedings bring out the truth and discour-
age collective guilt?
4. Do international judicial proceedings provide due process for defend-
ants, reduce the power of perpetrators, and limit their future political
roles?
5. Do international judicial processes aid domestic legal processes and
bring nonpartisanship and desirable external expertise and support
into peacebuilding efforts to establish a rule-of-law society?
6. Do international judicial proceedings encourage reconciliation?
7. Do international judicial proceedings help domesticate the interna-
tional system and move it toward a global rule-of-law society?
Because of the limited scope of this chapter and the short time periods that
have passed since international tribunals have been used following the end
of the cold war, final answers to these questions cannot be provided, but the
discussion illustrates preliminary findings and how detailed case studies could
explore the ways that judicial action influences peacebuilding.
Do International Judicial Proceedings Help Reduce Atrocities or

Establish Cease-Fires?
ICC indictments may encourage both reductions in atrocities during ongoing

fighting and the willingness of leaders to enter negotiations for cease-fires. In
the ICC’s first case, involving the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), which has
been fighting the Ugandan government for two decades, available evidence
indicates that the indictments of five leaders of the LRA added significantly to
the psychological, legal, and political pressure on LRA leaders, pushing them
toward fewer abductions of children, a reduction of their violent attacks, and
willingness to enter cease-fire negotiations.12 Prior to the indictments, the LRA
had continued bloody atrocities for nearly twenty years. The conflict in north-
ern Uganda received very little international attention until the ICC became
involved. The court’s indictments of LRA leaders raised the international com-
munity’s awareness of the conflict and focused the spotlight of public opinion
on the leaders’ atrocities.
The indictments seemed to discourage the leaders from continuing the
war, because continuation of their way of fighting, which included widespread
abduction of children for soldiers and sex slaves, would have provided addi-
tional and fresh evidence of their atrocities. This evidence would, of course,
be consequential if they ever faced a prosecutor. The Court’s activities drew
“greater international and regional attention to the conflict and put pressure on
both sides to resolve it.”13 Soon after the indictments, the LRA began to seek a
cease-fire agreement. The LRA leaders’ insistence that amnesty for themselves
must be included in a peace accord reveals the importance of indictments.
In another major case for the ICC, Osman Hummaida, the former direc-
tor of the Sudanese Organization Against Torture, has noted that following the
United Nations’s referral of atrocities in Darfur to the ICC in March 2005, “for
the very first time, there was a decline in aerial bombardment and Janjaweed
attacks on civilians. Those committing the crimes took the ICC investigation
seriously.”14 Salih Mahmoud Osman, a member of the Sudanese Parliament, fur-
ther indicated that accountability has been an “important element” in “providing
protection to survivors in Darfur and preventing further depopulation and eth-
nic cleansing. . . . Soon after the situation was referred to the ICC there were no
attacks for three months.”15 Although the impact seemed to decline somewhat
as progress slowed in prosecuting the accused, the impact might have deepened
if judicial processes would have been more effectively carried forward.
Although these cases demonstrate a peacebuilding benefit from ICC action,
the Ugandan case suggests that the first phase of judicial influence provided
an incentive for LRA leaders to decide to seek a cease-fire agreement, but in a
second phase, the indictments slowed progress in finding terms for an agree-
ment that would be accepted by all. The ICC was not ready to quash the indict-
ments, and the LRA indictees would not accept a cease-fire without amnesty.
They feared prosecution if the war ended without first having amnesty in place.
As the UN Secretary General’s Special Adviser on the Prevention of Genocide,
Juan Méndez, acknowledged, “the threat of prosecution can be a clear disincen-

tive for actors in an armed conflict to give up their resort to violence.”16 The
Catholic Archdiocese’s Justice and Peace Commission of Gulu in the north-
ern district of Uganda issued a strong criticism of the ICC for accepting the
Ugandan government’s referral of LRA atrocities: “To start war crimes investiga-
tions for the sake of justice at a time when the war is not yet over, risks having,
in the end, neither justice nor peace delivered.”17 Some Ugandan church leaders
saw the ICC’s investigation and indictments as “disruptive” to peace processes.
They claimed that judicial prosecution “discourages LRA members from seek-
ing amnesty pursuant to a Ugandan law passed in 2000.”18 The archdiocese
also said the ICC initiative “potentially undermines traditional mechanisms
of reconciliation and reintegration. The threat of prosecution may serve as a
stick, but the carrot of amnesty and reconciliation must be retained in order to
reinforce the peace process.”19
In the face of criticism, Yves Sorokobi, an ICC spokesman, stated that “if it
is in the interest of justice to proceed with a peace agreement, the ICC is ready
to suspend its investigation.” In addition, the ICC prosecutor, Luis Moreno-
Ocampo, “was reported by international media as saying if a solution to end the
violence was found, and continuing the investigation did not serve the interests
of justice, then the ICC would stop the probe.”20
Those policy makers and observers who seem to prefer amnesty to indict-
ments as an inducement to a cease-fire should recall that for more than fifteen
years the LRA showed no interest in a cease-fire. The Ugandan government had
tried an amnesty program before the ICC indictments, but without any suc-
cess in bringing the war toward an end. Not one commanding officer sought
amnesty. It appeared that, in the words of one close observer, “nothing short
of effective military action against the LRA would drive its leaders to opt for
negotiation.”21 It was in the face of persistent international indifference to the
war and the exhaustion of other alternatives that focus turned to calling on
the ICC. For the Ugandan government to refer the LRA atrocities to the ICC
“was . . . a strategy for engaging the international community by committing . . .
ICC proponents to the arrest and prosecution of top LRA leaders, just as the
United Nations had earlier proposed.”22 By excluding top leaders from amnesty,
those most responsible might be brought to justice.
International cooperation was also necessary to press Sudanese leaders
to quit giving sanctuary to the LRA in camps in Sudan. According to Payam
Akhaven, empirical evidence shows that the Ugandan government’s refer-
ral of atrocities to the ICC “has contributed to the LRA’s incapacitation.” In
addition, Sudan “has been persuaded to end its support of the LRA.”23 These
developments “weakened the LRA’s military capability, encouraged significant
defections among LRA commanders, and forced otherwise defiant leaders to
the negotiating table.”24 These results were “in sharp contrast to the period
preceding the referral, during which LRA atrocities reached a new peak.” New
willingness to negotiate “is linked to the LRA’s political isolation and military
containment—both of which are linked to the new context created by the ICC
referral. In this respect at least, it would not be unreasonable to suggest that
even without a single prosecution, the LRA referral has already been a suc-
cess.”25 Yet many observers downplayed the ICC’s initial peacebuilding ben-
efits as time passed and the LRA leaders continued to resist a cease-fire without
the lifting of their indictments.
Given the possibility that ICC indictments and arrest warrants might
contribute to saving lives one day but impede achieving a signed cease-fire
agreement the next, it is useful to look more closely at the Ugandan case and
what the people most affected by LRA atrocities have thought about how to
proceed. When the evidence is ambiguous regarding humanitarian benefits
that might flow from prosecution in a peacebuilding strategy, the preferences
of the people most affected should be given additional weight, as long as those
preferences are within the law and not aimed at revenge. Usually it is difficult
to know their preferences because their opinions are inaccessible. In this case,
a highly professional survey of Ugandan opinion at the village level is available
for examination. This opinion study shows some pluralism among those liv-
ing in the four districts of northern Uganda most affected by the war, and also
some substantial agreement by sizable majorities of the population.
The opinion study was prepared against the backdrop of knowledge that
some, both within Uganda and in humanitarian and governmental agencies
outside, argued that the ICC’s involvement might “prolong the conflict and
undermine peace talks between the LRA and the government’s mediator, Betty
Bigomge, as well as other local initiatives, such as the work of the Ugandan
government’s Amnesty Commission and the exploration of using traditional
tribal methods to deal with past crimes.”26 On the other hand, proponents of
international judicial processes said that “pursuing peace at the expense of jus-
tice is not a viable long-term option.”27
In the four northern districts, 45 percent of all people had witnessed
the killing of one of their own family members.28 In the face of such general
trauma, their top priorities were clear: food and peace. Yet most people “viewed
peace and justice as a complex relationship that was not necessarily mutually
exclusive.”29 Most sought both, including reparations for victims.
Three-fourths (76 percent) said those responsible for abuses “should be
held accountable for their actions.” Even when asked whether “they would
accept amnesty if it were the only road to peace,” 29 percent still said “no.”30 A
majority gave high priority to accountability for crimes committed by all sides.
Sixty-six percent favored trials and punishment for the LRA; an even higher per-
centage (76 percent) said the Ugandan (government) Defense Forces should be
held accountable for atrocities they committed.31 Even in regions where people
were assumed to prefer traditional justice measures, most respondents (66
percent) believed that “LRA members should face punitive and/or formal legal
processes and that community-oriented options for dealing with perpetrators
would only be appropriate for low-level LRA members.”32 These preferences
are quite understandable. Many of the LRA fighters were children, abducted
and taken away to be used as child soldiers to commit atrocities. Many people
wanted their children to return to their villages and were ready to forgive them
if they returned. But many believed that the leaders, more culpable for heinous
crimes, should face some accountability proceedings and should acknowledge

the crimes they committed. Up to now, the LRA leaders have denied any wrong-
doing, despite their refusal to stand trial and their insistence on amnesty.
Although 65 percent of the people supported some amnesty processes
for the LRA, only 4 percent said amnesties should be granted uncondition-
ally. Most said that the government’s blanket amnesty “should be reformed”
and that “some form of acknowledgement [of misconduct] and/or retribution
should be required of all those granted amnesty.”33
Although 84 percent believed that the international community “should
be involved in holding accountable those responsible for human rights viola-
tions,”34 73 percent knew “nothing or very little about the ICC’s existence and
work.” Of the people who had heard of the court, “a majority attached high
expectations to it, believing that the ICC would contribute both to peace (91
percent) and justice (89 percent).”35 Of those who knew about the court, 94
percent supported its involvement in response to atrocities.36
The authors of the opinion survey concluded that “peace and justice will be
achieved in Northern Uganda only through an inclusive process that involves a
wide range of stakeholders, including victims, bystanders, and perpetrators.”37
Clearly, those who have been most affected by the violence should have a voice
in determining the processes for moving beyond it, not only in deference to
the democratic principle but also because meeting the people’s desires and
expectations, insofar as they are humane, contributes to peacebuilding and
reconciliation. It seems that an effort aimed at providing some justice without
delaying peace too long could attempt to prosecute the top leaders and offer
amnesty, with some conditions, such as acknowledgment of wrongdoing, for
all the rest. (The ICC indicted only five of the LRA’s top leaders and promised
not to indict others to enable the amnesty program to encourage a stop to the
fighting.)
This approach is confirmed by a subsequent study conducted by the UN
Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights in Acholiland, Lango, and
Teso subregions of northern Uganda: “The population broadly believes that
both the LRA and the Government, and specifically their leaders, should be
held accountable for the harms they have caused during the conflict.”38
Do International Judicial Proceedings Curtail Impunity and

Help Deter Future Crimes?
States’ widely shared determination to eradicate impunity for heinous crimes

finds explicit expression in the Rome Statute’s provision “to put an end to impu-
nity for perpetrators and to contribute to the prevention of [genocide, crimes
against humanity, and war crimes].”39 In a more general UN context, all fifteen
members of the Security Council have committed themselves to ending impu-
nity and establishing accountability for such crimes.40 In a recent assessment
of the genocide in Sudan, Osman Hummaida said that “ending the culture of
impunity is key to protection of civilians.”41
Most international legal experts believe that the ICC’s existence and future
work will reduce impunity, a peacebuilding achievement in itself, and also
increase the deterrence of future crimes. However, there is little agreement
about the degree to which these consequences will occur. Clearly, the possibil-
ity that international legal proceedings might be mounted against violators of
international humanitarian and human rights law, especially the law against
genocide, arises now as never before, in the minds of political leaders every-
where.42 Exponents of retributive justice have a strong argument that interna-
tional judicial proceedings to punish war crimes, crimes against humanity, and
genocide do indeed contribute to the pursuit of justice and the saving of lives.
The creation and continued backing of the ad hoc tribunals for Yugoslavia
and Rwanda and the establishment of the ICC, all of which draw on the con-
cept of extraterritorial jurisdiction (including universal jurisdiction), plus the
establishment of the Special Court for Sierra Leone and other mixed tribunals
for Cambodia, Kosovo, and Timor-Leste, together produce a new international
reality: a general presumption against impunity.43 Of course such a presump-
tion does not mean there will be perfect compliance.
To buttress compliance, the United Nations has helped establish all of the
mixed tribunals, and the secretary general has said that UN-endorsed peace
agreements cannot give amnesty for genocide, war crimes, crimes against
humanity, or other gross violations of human rights. Moreover, amnesties
given by other actors cannot, in his view, prevent prosecutions by UN-created
or -assisted courts.44 The UN Human Rights Committee also has said “that
blanket amnesty laws and pardons are inconsistent with the Covenant [on Civil
and Political Rights] because they create ‘a climate of impunity’ and deny the
victims this ‘right to a remedy.’”45 Of course, the Genocide Convention, which
is nearly universally endorsed, obligates states to punish wrongdoers.46
General principles of international law obligate states to carry out these
tasks in response to crimes against humanity:
1. to investigate, prosecute, and punish the perpetrators;

2. to disclose to the victims, their families, and society all that can be
reliably established about those events;
3. to offer the victims adequate reparations; and
4. to separate known perpetrators from law enforcement bodies and
other positions of authority.47
Corresponding to these state obligations are an emerging set of rights that

make impunity unacceptable, including “a right to know the truth” and a “right
of the victim to see justice done.”48 Indeed, the right to know the truth “has
achieved the status of a customary international law norm.”49
Leila Nadya Sadat challenges “conventional wisdom that ‘swapping jus-
tice for peace,’ is morally and practically acceptable.” Several longitudinal
studies, she notes, indicate that in the long run “amnesty deals” “foster a cul-
ture of impunity in which violence becomes the norm, rather than the excep-
tion.”50 She cautions against letting the South African success with conditional
amnesty confuse the picture. This exception to the general rule, she concludes,
should not be substituted for the rule: “both state and international practice
now suggest that exile and amnesty is a largely unacceptable response to the
commission of jus cogens crimes.”51 The law against impunity seems clear and
the culture of support for the law is rising.
Deterrence
The extent to which reducing impunity and prosecuting gross violations of
human rights will deter future crimes is widely debated and no doubt influ-
enced by many factors,52 including the extent to which would-be criminals
expect that they might be prosecuted. Before the creation of the two temporary
international tribunals in the 1990s (the International Criminal Tribunal for
the former Yugoslavia and the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda),
the permanent ICC, and more recently the hybrid tribunals, most perpetrators
could reasonably expect that they would never face a trial or any form of account-
ability. From that low point of accountability, the creation of the permanent ICC
is a major step forward in establishing conditions conducive to peacebuilding.
The ICC ensures that the international community will give increased attention
to gross violations of human rights. The Court clearly increases the possibil-
ity that law-breakers will be held accountable, particularly in weak states. As
Patrick Hayden has written, because the ICC is a permanent criminal court, it
“will serve as a greater deterrent to those who might otherwise be tempted to
commit war crimes and other egregious human rights abuses.” Knowledge that
the ICC is always on watch “may deter individuals from acting with a sense of
impunity and thereby decrease the occurrence of future atrocities.”53 M. Cherif
Bassiouni concludes that “fair trials affirm that atrocities are wrong and
unacceptable—drawing a clear line for all to see—and incarceration prevents
the guilty from repeat offenses and potentially serves as a deterrent to others.”54
A court indictment affirms the international community’s interest in
upholding fundamental human rights norms and publicizes both the norms
and major alleged violations of them. This helps educate people about the
importance of the norms and of compliance with them even if there are not
immediate arrests or trials. Because people do not want to be indicted, they
are more likely to conduct themselves in ways that a court would not find
objectionable, thus demonstrating benefits of international judicial processes
in publicizing and applying existing norms, building new norms, and setting
legal precedents.
In addition, an indictment might be viewed as a de facto “smart sanc-
tion.”55 An indictment has an admirable specificity that economic sanctions
seldom have achieved. The indictment identifies the law that may have been
violated and the individual person who is accused of wrongdoing. The indict-
ment applies only to that person. Although the accused should be considered
innocent until proven guilty, if the person refuses to stand trail, his or her abil-
ity to travel is greatly reduced after an arrest warrant is issued. The person must
limit travel to places in the world where the ruling authorities are willing to
shield the accused. Significantly, the top LRA leadership indicted by the ICC
chose not to travel to Juba, Sudan, in 2006, where peace talks were being held,
because of fear that someone might arrest them. As a result, others needed to
play an enhanced leadership role, perhaps opening the door eventually to dis-
placement of the indictees. Thus indictment may limit freedom of movement
and possibly the power of the accused because of their need to maintain low
visibility to avoid arrest.
More generally, deterrence is enhanced by the extent to which international
judicial proceedings can gather evidence promptly, archive it, and identify and
protect witnesses. As an aid to peacebuilding, the ICC strengthens account-
ability, transparency, and legal compliance. It reinforces the legal duty imposed
on all states to address atrocities like genocide, mass murder, and rape.56 Even
potential law-breakers who reside in states that have not ratified the Rome Stat-
ute might be deterred by knowledge that they could be investigated by the ICC
if the Security Council decided to refer their case to the court.57 Only the five
permanent members of the Security Council have the direct opportunity to
stop a possible UN referral of crimes to the ICC for review of their own nation-
als’ conduct. As a consequence, the ICC and the UN together can contribute
significantly to the rule of law internationally and thereby to the deterrence of
gross violations in the areas under court jurisdiction.
Numerous international experts support this conclusion: Catherine Lu has
noted that the work of the ICC promotes deterrence of future crimes because
it punishes perpetrators.58 Steven R. Ratner and Jason S. Abrams emphasize
that “accountability . . . serves a preventive purpose. It can signal to future vio-
lators of human rights that their actions will not simply be forgotten in some
political compromise.”59 Bruce Shapiro’s work demonstrates that “establish-
ing the facts of atrocity and accurately laying out lines of accountability aid
in democratic transition [and] help dampen cycles of generalized revenge.”60
Sadat reports “evidence that the credible threat of punishment may in time
affect the behavior of perpetrators, making international criminal justice an
important component of constraining inter- and intra-state violence and the
commission of atrocities.”61 Many other legal experts emphasize the existing
global responsibility to ensure that crimes are properly punished and wrongdo-
ing is carefully examined to identify abuses when they occur and to uphold the
norms for appropriate conduct.62
International judicial proceedings are more likely than national proceed-
ings to have a spill-over effect in deterring people’s illegal conduct in other
states.63 However, where criminal prosecution is not feasible in the foreseeable
future, investigatory or truth commissions can provide a method of account-
ability. Reports can be detailed, authoritative, and unbiased, including identi-
fication of perpetrators and victims. Their work can foster social and spiritual
healing, encourage legislation for reparations, support future trials or nonpe-
nal sanctions (such as disqualification from public office), provide a record for
future generations, and recommend reforms and compensation or other cor-
rective measures.64 Truth commissions also usually require fewer resources
than domestic or international trials meeting full due process standards.65
Do International Judicial Proceedings Help Bring out the Truth

and Discourage Collective Guilt?
Whenever someone grossly violates human rights, the victims, their fami-
lies, and the society at large are all entitled to learn the truth about what hap-
pened and have a recognized authority acknowledge what occurred and who
was responsible. International judicial proceedings usually do help establish
an authoritative picture of what happened in the commission of a particular
crime. Sentencing may also include some reparations for injuries. Insofar as
they help provide facts for informing a society’s memory of conflict and a basis
for “settling human rights accounts,” they “can be part of the formula for a
lasting peace, as opposed to a lull in the fighting.”66 But trials are insufficient
to provide a full picture of events. For strategic peacebuilding, they need to be
supplemented with truth commissions or other instruments of accountability,
especially where atrocities are widespread.
If a trial is poorly conducted or designed to cover up the truth and allow
impunity for political leaders, it may in fact do so.67 Such an outcome may be
worse than no trial at all, particularly if it is a national tribunal whose proceedings
preclude, delay, or complicate action by the ICC, limited by the principle of com-
plementarity, even though the national proceeding may be less than satisfactory.
In addition to the truth-disclosing benefit of international judicial proc-
esses, they also demonstrate that although some people are guilty of horrendous
crimes, not all people of a particular ethnicity, religion, or nationality are guilty
of such misdeeds. Guilt can be “denationalized” so that individuals, rather than
an entire group, bear its burden. This ability not to condemn or express hos-
tility toward an entire group is obviously helpful in peacebuilding strategies,
where relationships need to be transformed and past prejudices overcome.
The secretary general’s Special Representative for the Prevention of Geno-
cide, Juan Méndez, argues that judicial processes “are the most effective means
of separating collective guilt from individual guilt, and thus to remove the
stigma of historic misdeeds from the innocent members of communities that
are collectively blamed for the atrocities committed on other communities.”68
This is especially important for peacebuilding strategies that need “to break the
cycle of ethnic violence, because trials would allow the victimized communities
to distinguish between ordinary members of rival ethnic groups and those who
manipulate their fears for political ends.”69
Do International Judicial Proceedings Provide Due Process

for Defendants, Reduce the Power of Perpetrators, and
Limit Their Future Political Role?
If international judicial proceedings provide due process protections equiva-

lent to those that are now widely expected of and generally practiced by interna-
tional jurisprudence, the rights of the accused are likely to be better protected
in international tribunals than in many national judicial processes. The high

international standards are likely to have a salutary influence on national
and local judicial processes as well, although at times national public opin-
ion seems vengeful and likely to favor less impartiality, less due process, and
more harsh punishments than provided by international proceedings. Yet in
the long run, even in societies where criticism of the international tribunals
runs strong, the positive influence of such tribunals is likely. All international
tribunals from Nuremberg to the present appear to have met high standards of
due process for defendants. This conclusion applies to penal systems, prosecu-
tion, defense, court processes, and, since the Nuremberg and Tokyo tribunals,
punishment. Exemplary legal procedures affirm the values and demonstrate
the practices that provide a solid basis for peacebuilding and nurturing a rule-
of-law society.70
If, following due process, those accused of major crimes are indicted and
can be arrested and tried, and if they are convicted, then those officials obvi-
ously will have been removed by international judicial processes from positions
of political or military power, at least during the time they serve their sentences.
International judicial processes are better able to achieve such results than
either diplomacy or truth commissions. In addition, the conviction of the guilty
is likely to reduce the prospects that they will ever return to public office or be
empowered to commit more violations of human rights. These are clear ben-
efits for peacebuilding strategies.
Of course, major hurdles include finding sufficient evidence and witnesses
to indict and convict, and being able to make arrests and hold international tri-
als, even if evidence is uncovered. The fact that President Slobodan Milosevic
was indicted while head of government and later brought to trial, despite the
difficulties and idiosyncrasies of his situation, indicates that international judi-
cial processes can aid in discrediting and removing perpetrators from power.
Even if an arrest is not imminent and a trial cannot be held, an indictment
by the ICC may handicap indictees who refuse to stand trial, thereby increasing
pressure on them to stop gross violations, discrediting them in office, embold-
ening possible critics, and preventing them from traveling or representing their
government abroad. The indictments by the International Criminal Tribunal
for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY), for example, demonstrate some peacebuild-
ing benefits even when no one was willing to arrest Ratko Mladic and Radovan
Karadzic. They were barred from holding further public office because the Day-
ton Accords explicitly said that no one who was indicted and refused trial could
hold public office. To be sure, political and diplomatic leverage, not a judicial
proceeding shaped the relevant provisions, but they were made possible and
influential by the indictment of the ICTY.
Plausibly, an indictment by an external court could increase domestic politi-
cal support for an indictee, stimulated by a rally-around-the-flag response from
local supporters, particularly if the court is seen as prejudiced against their
society. Yet these counterproductive consequences are not normal nor are
they likely to be long-lived if the ICC enjoys a good reputation throughout the
world.
Do International Judicial Processes Aid Domestic Legal Processes

and Bring International Nonpartisanship and Desirable External
Expertise and Support into Peacebuilding Efforts?
International judicial processes usually set a positive example for domestic

judicial institutions and the local legal culture, although the extent to which
the example actually changes local practice may vary enormously from place
to place. When a proceeding occurs in The Hague and little is communicated
about what may seem to most people to be a process far removed from local
realities, it may have little impact. In the best of circumstances, international
judicial processes potentially can inform domestic legal practice while high-
lighting the importance of the international norms that should guide conduct
and domestic judicial practice. International tribunals can conduct trials that
national judicial institutions often lack the capacity to carry out, either because
of local biases, potentially disruptive political tensions, security threats to wit-
nesses and the families and legal counsels of the litigants, or limited juris-
prudential expertise and independence. The ICC can spare national judicial
institutions from excessive political strain during a postwar transition, while
offering exemplary experience in legal processes. International judges have
provided important “balance, independence and expertise” in Bosnia and other
countries in proceedings that otherwise would have “test[ed] local judges’ dis-
interestedness and ability to resist political and tribal pressures.”71
International trials help bring international law into the domestic political
arena and offer a plumb line useful for protecting minorities and upholding
fundamental human rights in domestic politics. If the ICC maintains a reputa-
tion for integrity and impartiality, people who want to be good citizens of the
world community as well as of their national society will be able to stand with
the Court’s verdicts against criminal conduct by citizens of their own society in
the face of possible criticism by fellow nationals who are more committed to
the accused than to impartial application of the law. This clarification of values
and the law may enable reconciliation to arise more successfully than if trials
were imposed by an occupying government or domestic institutions if those
were dominated by a revenge-seeking hostile party.
Yet when considering an overall strategy of peacebuilding aimed at nur-
turing a rule-of-law society, “no single mechanism or approach can satisfy the
many . . . goals of justice, truth, prevention and deterrence, reconciliation, and
domestic capacity-building in the aftermath of severe atrocities.”72 Multiple
means are needed to achieve multiple goals. Trials can coexist with truth com-
missions, international trials can coexist with national judicial processes, and
these both with political processes and economic policies aimed at reconcilia-
tion. The more deeply rooted the atrocities, the more likely the need for exter-
nal help to withstand pressures on the accountability processes and to give the
appearance (as well as the reality) of impartial proceedings. In sum, the pres-
ence of some international legal proceedings in a weak state provides invalu-
able opportunity for capacity-building with local litigators and judges.
In many ways, hybrid courts may have a more extensive positive influence
on local legal processes than a distant ICC, particularly in building local judicial
capacities, because the hybrids are less distant, psychologically and politically,
from the society in question than is The Hague. A hybrid court may be better
able to communicate both the importance of accountability and the fairness
of a proceeding.73 It can include local judicial officials in the proceedings and,
after its work is completed, leave behind people and institutions that gradually
move more fully into local processes. Its proceedings occur in the geographic
vicinity of the crimes and the locus where social healing may begin.
The hybrid courts in East Timor, Sierra Leone, and Cambodia help bring
justice to the people that the ICC seeks to serve but has had difficulty reach-
ing, because the hybrids are linked to their respective countries and offer more
physical and linguistic accessibility to the local media, population, and profes-
sional elites.74 They may be better at communicating effectively, although this
function is one in which the ICC can presumably improve. A hybrid court
usually will have an easier opportunity to convince indigenous populations of
the merit of their mission and gain access to local media. They foster a sense
of local ownership, which can mobilize popular support and in turn can give
rise to a sense of legitimacy within the society and the court itself. In a sense,
the population is better able to participate and feel a stake in the trials, yet the
international personnel and accountability provide safeguards against judicial
improprieties or inappropriate governmental interference.
This is well illustrated in the hybrid court in Timor-Leste and its ability to
provide international expertise and opportunity to absorb fundamental interna-
tional human rights values. In contrast, in Uganda, many local people do not
feel that a tribunal in The Hague is “their court. The Court in the Netherlands
may be benevolent, but it seems to some to be a neo-colonial interference that
is poorly informed about local customs when it comes to accountability, for-
giveness, and reconciliation.”75
Because of the advantages of having a judicial proceeding close to the locus
of the crime, particularly when it comes to building domestic legal capacities
and popular support for the judicial proceeding and the law, where possible the
ICC should consider holding sessions nearer to where the violations occurred.76
It might also experiment with establishing judicial panels that include local as
well as international jurists. In addition, the court should expand its capacity
and budget for communicating with people in the society most directly affected
by a particular trial.
If a state asks for international support for its efforts to investigate and
prosecute gross violations of human rights, the global community should offer
assistance. It can do so quickly and at relatively low cost (compared to violent
conflict) by providing help with international judges, law enforcement officials,
forensic experts, legal advisors, and other specialists.
To the extent that international judicial processes are able to render impar-
tial verdicts and communicate their processes and verdicts well, they will aid
peacebuilding in the long run, not only because they assign legal responsibil-
ity to individuals for illegal conduct but also because they uphold the rights of
all others, regardless of ethnicity, race, class, or religion, and they do this by
employing legal processes rather than military instruments. Moreover, shining
a globally authoritative international spotlight on heinous crimes and the uni-
versal norms prohibiting them will strengthen the norms over time, gradually
expand people’s willingness to comply with them, and teach national citizens
that an impartial global rendering of justice is possible.
Do International Judicial Proceedings Encourage Reconciliation?
The issue of whether international judicial processes encourage reconciliation

is a vexing and difficult question to answer, perhaps equal in importance to
the question of whether they encourage cease-fires. International trials, if well
conducted and accurately perceived by the people affected, help resolve ques-
tions of innocence and guilt, provide some redress for injuries, and encourage
some closure to social disruption, thereby enabling societies to heal and recon-
cile.77 In some cases, international proceedings may even lay the groundwork
for encouraging restorative justice and forgiveness. Rwanda may be a case in
point. Despite the difficulties, criticisms, and mixed results of the International
Criminal Tribunal in Rwanda (ICTR), it focused on a few high-level officials,
enabling or forcing domestic actors to focus on the rest and on restorative jus-
tice and reconciliation rooted in traditional culture. In South Africa, of course,
there were no international trials, yet an alternative instrument of accountabil-
ity, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, laid the groundwork for some
reconciliation and even occasional forgiveness.
On the other hand, international trials that are unfair or that are widely
perceived to produce one-sided consequences, even if reasonably fair, may keep
a society divided or antagonize hostile opponents. In the case of East Timor, the
healing process is impeded because many of those accused of crimes are now
living in Indonesia and are beyond the reach of the UN-supported hybrid court
that was established. A wall of Indonesian sovereignty is protecting some of the
allegedly biggest culprits.
Political realists and advocates of a rights-based approach strongly disa-
gree on the political utility of amnesties for those accused of gross violations
of human rights. But the normative inutility of amnesties for leaders who
have ordered or acquiesced in serious offenses can hardly be denied. Strate-
gic peacebuilding should take into account both political and normative utili-
ties. As indicated, even those Ugandan villagers eager to have peace and the
return of their child soldiers did not want the leaders of the LRA to avoid some
truth telling and accountability. Moreover, when the leaders of the Northern
Alliance in Afghanistan proposed amnesty that would include its adversar-
ies, such provisions were not included in the Bonn Agreement because “a
majority of Afghans surveyed oppose[d] amnesties for serious offenses.”78 UN
Secretary General Kofi Annan has said that “United Nations–endorsed peace
agreements can never promise amnesties for genocide, war crimes, crimes
against humanity or gross violations of human rights.”79 A report of the UN
High Commissioner for Human Rights stated that “a blanket amnesty, par-
ticularly where war crimes and crimes against humanity have been commit-
ted, promotes a culture of impunity and is not in conformity with international
standards and practice.”80
In any case, to devise amnesty arrangements that will “effectively remove
spoilers and genuinely help to create conditions for strengthening the rule of
law—rather than just permitting impunity—is enormously difficult in prac-
tice.”81 Clearly, the consequences of amnesties or international trials may vary
from case to case and should be assessed accordingly. Generally speaking,
an unconditional amnesty, which excuses people from breaking universally
agreed-on laws, is an unlikely way to lay the foundation for building a rule-
of-law society. Although an international trial at The Hague may do little to
strengthen the domestic rule of law in a postconflict society with weak political
institutions,82 when trials are compared to national amnesties, a trial will at the
least advance international standards of justice, whereas amnesty will under-
mine it and often make reconciliation more difficult.
Because reconciliation must ultimately rely for progress on a rule-of-law
society and because international judicial processes usually nurture the rule of
law, they play a key role in national peacebuilding and reconciliation. They also
influence global peacebuilding, which brings us to our final question.
Do International Judicial Proceedings Help Domesticate the

International System and Move It toward a Global
Rule-of-Law Society?
International judicial processes are likely to have a profound impact on the glo-
bal order, albeit one that is difficult to quantify or even to detect over a short
period of time.83 In the short run, recent actions by international tribunals “have
assisted in bringing some criminals to justice, promoted the development and
acceptability of both substantive and procedural international criminal law, and
at least sustained, if not reinforced, the general international notion of the unac-
ceptability of serious violations of human rights.”84 In the longer run, every time
that the international community emphasizes accountability, it nurtures the
rule of law in global society. It helps “build a culture of respect for human rights
and [to] highlight the dangers of individuals and groups espousing philosophies
of hatred.”85 Accountability not only addresses wrongdoing in a particular case
with a particular perpetrator and victim, it also “serves goals for the international
community as whole.” It is of fundamental importance to recall that the crimes
discussed in this chapter “violate the most central norms of humanity, and all
states have a moral and political interest in seeing an effective remedy.”86 On the
moral and political interests of states lies the promise for actions that will turn
legal norms into lived realities through successful global peacebuilding.
For two reasons, the judgments of the ICC and other international judicial
processes are of such fundamental significance that they are likely to change
the structure and functioning of the international system in the long run.87 To
begin with, for the first time in human history, a permanent criminal court,
whose basic constitution has been ratified by 108 states, exists to hold indi-
viduals personally responsible for international human rights crimes, even if
they are government officials. Second, defendants may not use as a defense
argument a claim that they are acting on behalf of their state, their national
government, or simply following superior orders (that are illegal).88 The value
of holding individuals accountable, which the International Military Tribunal
at Nuremburg first officially recognized in affirming that individuals do have
obligations that extend “beyond those owed to the state,”89 appears to be so
momentous90 as to override most negative criticisms of international judicial
processes, such as the failure of an indictment to lead to an immediate arrest or
the failure of the court to deter crimes in the short run. A court established to
render decisions about individual legal responsibility of persons acting as gov-
ernment officials “suggests a reduction in state sovereignty” because in these
proceedings “individuals . . . have obligations not only to domestic law but also
to a ‘higher’ international law, and because they can no longer hide behind the
shield of immunity of state agencies.”91 In international judicial processes, uni-
versal humanitarian norms in international law are, in some cases, beginning
to take primacy over domestic law.92
Guidelines for Researchers and Policy Makers
Reducing Loss of Life

The overall goal of saving as many lives as possible should be the fundamental
guideline in deciding if and when to employ international judicial processes
in the service of peacebuilding. This life-saving guideline is rooted both in
internationally endorsed human rights norms and the morality of most reli-
gious and ethical traditions.93 It postulates a simple goal, yet it is not simple
to calculate how many lives may be lost or saved from a particular course of
action, particularly if one considers both the long and the short run, as well as
the future benefits from nurturing a global culture of compliance with interna-
tional humanitarian and human rights law. Nor is it simple to implement life-
saving policies once they are chosen. Nonetheless, this is a reasonable place
to begin in formulating proposals for political decision making and future
research. With this guideline in mind, the international community should
proceed with as many warranted international judicial processes as a society
coming out of gross violations is able to tolerate without increasing loss of
human life.
Table 8.1 indicates the need to calibrate the use of judicial proceedings with
the strength and cohesiveness of the society where its impact will be primarily
felt. Of course Table 8.1 includes the possibility that judicial proceedings might
be pursued in national courts or in a hybrid of national and international judi-
cial processes. One hopes that ICC proceedings would always be of high qual-
ity and function at the level of “highly professional judicial proceedings.” For
national tribunals to succeed, a country’s judicial culture needs what Ratner
and Abrams consider the “four critical prerequisites for the administration of
justice.” These include “a legal framework of criminal law and procedure; a
trained cadre of judges, lawyers, and other experts; adequate infrastructure; and
a culture of respect for the fairness and impartiality of the process.”94 Without
these, certainly some international participation is required to ensure that trials
do not simply facilitate revenge or vendettas that will impede peacebuilding.
Table 8.1 assesses only the domestic component of peacebuilding impact
from judicial proceedings. No attempt is made to include the global peacebuild-
ing impact. From the vantage point of international society, there is a presump-
tion for trials: in most cases it would be desirable to prosecute those accused
of heinous crimes. Impunity undermines the rule of law in global society. But
in looking, for the moment, through national lenses, one might conclude that
where political institutions are as uncertain as those described in the two right-
hand columns of Table 8.1, any prosecutions should be attempted by the ICC
or hybrid courts, not by national courts.
Because judicial practices are sometimes deeply flawed and attempted
where institutions and local culture are not prepared to sustain the rule of
law, they will fail to achieve most of the desired ends of legal enforcement.
From these flawed procedures, it is easy to conclude that law enforcement fails
to contribute to peace, justice, and the deterrence of future crimes. Drawing
such conclusions from a partial picture of practice should be guarded against
because to do so is not a fair test of what international enforcement can achieve
under more favorable conditions, nor does it include the benefits of global (as
differentiated from national) peacebuilding. International diplomacy should
focus on how to create those more favorable conditions rather than quickly dis-
miss possible benefits of international legal enforcement.95 Nonetheless, under
the anticipated outcomes specified in the lower right-hand part of the table, it
would be inadvisable to hold trials until conditions have improved.
One particularly troubling feature of international judicial proceedings
is that those who are investigated, indicted, and tried often feel that they are
treated unfairly because not all states are subject to the same standards. The
United States, Russia, and China, for example, are not parties to the Rome
TABLE 8.1. Prospects for Judicial Success in Peacebuilding

Nature of Society
Strong social and Fragmented social and

political institutions; Weak social and political institutions;
some cross-cutting political institutions; society divided into
Nature of anticipated groups engaged in few cross-cutting hostile groups; some
judicial processes national processes groups want partition
Highly professional Very high High Moderate

Flawed yet somewhat High Moderate Low
professional
Unprofessional and Low Very low Very low
unfair
Statute and can prevent their nationals from being brought before the ICC by a
UN Security Council decision because of their veto power there. Sudanese offi-
cials claim that they are being subjected to ICC proceedings without their con-
sent and are being treated unequally before the law because they are politically
weak. The ability of international judicial processes to contribute positively to
peacebuilding is limited by both the perception and the reality that some socie-
ties are being “bullied” into accepting international enforcement while others
evade the same standard. As former U.S. Supreme Court Justice Robert Jackson,
who was the U.S. chief prosecutor at the Nuremberg War Crimes Tribunal, acknow-
ledged, “unless those who sat in judgment accepted for themselves the same
standards of accountability as were imposed on the German defendants, the
Nuremberg Judgment would be deeply discredited from both a legal and political
point of view.”96
Because politically selective, inequitable enforcement can never contrib-
ute to domestic or global peacebuilding as effectively as would equitable legal
obligations for enforcement, one way to increase the peacebuilding contribu-
tion of the ICC would be to expand its jurisdiction to cover more countries,
including the United States, Russia, and China.
Advancing Peace, Justice and Reconciliation through Judicial Processes

One benefit of the ICC is that it is always in place and able to gather evidence
promptly and authoritatively, although as presently constituted it lacks suffi-
cient personnel to perform this task in all the places where it is needed. Fresh
evidence gathered as soon as possible after massive crimes is the most useful
evidence for documenting crimes and identifying and protecting witnesses.
Such evidence is essential for stopping crimes, even if it subsequently might
be used by a truth commission instead of a court.
The precise mechanisms that can be useful in promoting reconciliation
cannot be determined in the abstract. Ratner and Abrams say that “any mecha-
nism can only work with the support of the people of the particular state.”97
This conditional judgment is instructive in most circumstances. Yet it seems
to overlook instances where an initially unpopular judicial process, even when
imposed from the outside, did in fact contribute to peacebuilding in the long
run, so this judgment may undervalue international judicial processes. The
benefits of the Nuremberg and Tokyo war crimes tribunals imposed on German
and Japanese officials come to mind.98 Nonetheless, it is clear that widespread
public support for international judicial processes will enhance prospects for
reconciliation, especially if the support is drawn from across a spectrum of
diverse groups in the immediately concerned society.
Ratner and Abrams also conclude that if a society has a democratically
elected government, then that government’s voice should determine how to
proceed: “If that government adopts a course that rejects accountability in favor
of a compromise with former abusers, amnesty, or other forms of impunity,
almost any effort at accountability seems crippled, if not still-born.”99 Again,
this formulation may overstate the merit of local control if it appears likely
to justify impunity. Because international judicial institutions are sometimes

capable over time of increasing public sentiment in favor of denying impunity,
they should be used where warranted. The deciding factor should be the profes-
sionalism and impartiality of the proceedings, particularly where they are likely
to garner respect.
Advancing Peace, Justice, and Reconciliation with Peacebuilding

Strategies that May Suspend Judicial Prosecution
Although judicial processes can contribute enormously to finding justice, sus-
taining peace, and opening a door to reconciliation, there are times when, like
it or not, formal judicial processes simply will not be used. In some contexts
they even may be undesirable, for a time, because they would be destabilizing
or because political impediments would prevent their effective functioning.
The following guidelines, informed by recent experiences in Uganda and else-
where, can be useful in developing peacebuilding strategies even if trials do
not occur.
1. Peacebuilding should encourage truth telling even if formal prosecu-
tions are not possible. This is a minimum requirement of respect for surviving
victims. Truth telling by both victims and perpetrators in most cases provides
a reasonable foundation for reconciliation. If truth telling could benefit from
the help of external law enforcement personnel, forensic experts, legal advi-
sors, or by moving proceedings entirely outside the country in which crimes
occurred, the international community should consider helping do this as a
duty required of it by its commitment to international humanitarian and
human rights law.100
2. Local, national, and international stakeholders should be brought
together to discuss and “develop an integrated and comprehensive strategy
for peace and justice.”101 Without coordination in the overall peacebuilding
strategy, energies among various actors will be divided. They may oppose
one another in trying to find the right balance between accountability and
forgiveness.
3. Peacebuilding strategies should try to ensure that any amnesty provi-
sions will not prevent victims or families from seeking justice and redress
for injury, or deny people the possibility of learning the truth about the cir-
cumstances in which they were victimized.102 Those receiving amnesty for
serious crimes should not be allowed to retain public office after civil strife
ends. The international community is unlikely to respect an unconditional
amnesty, blanket amnesty, or self-amnesty. If amnesty procedures are desir-
able, they should provide amnesty only on an individualized and conditional
basis.103
The somewhat reflexive, self-serving amnesty process set in motion by
the Ugandan government does not meet the needs of the surviving victims.
It needs to be reformed so it “is more inclusive and better meets victims’
expectations,”104 and clearly differentiates between the top five LRA leaders,
whom the ICC indicted, and the rest. Acknowledgments of wrongdoing,
commemoration of victims, apologizing to surviving victims, imposing penalties

or punishment, and paying reparations should be considered and possibly
required of those to be granted amnesty, especially those most culpable. Such
elements “are key to successfully reintegrating former LRA members into the
community.”105
4. If prosecution and trials seem inadvisable because of fears that they
would risk generating serious increases in intersocietal tensions and desta-
bilize a society, then peacebuilding strategies should exercise special care to
ensure that efforts to reconcile hostile groups do not attempt to quiet victims
for the purpose of allowing impunity for criminal conduct. Legitimate recon-
ciliation is never “a substitute for justice.”106
5. Peacebuilding strategies should also guard against “inequities in the
distribution of the burdens of reconciliation.” Care must be taken to avoid
transferring “responsibilities for dealing with past injustice from the perpetra-
tors to the victims.”107
6. Peacebuilding strategies should not allow a degeneration of reconcili-
ation efforts to the point of allowing them to become merely a state of mind
in which people are asked simply to get over their grief and grievances.108
Reconciliation efforts should not become “forced amnesia” regarding victims
and perpetrators. Peacebuilding should “openly confront the past,”109 even if
judicial prosecutions are not possible or desirable. In Uganda, local political
leaders should consult with their constituents to see how traditional justice
ceremonies might deal with violations committed by members of the LRA,
although these usually do not seem to apply to gross, systematic crimes of the
severity the LRA has committed.110 To succeed, peacebuilding normally will
include some social, political, and economic transformations.
7. In pluralistic communities, peacebuilding strategies are likely to be
most successful when they are articulated “in terms that do not depend entirely
on a particular set of religious beliefs.”111
8. Once accountability mechanisms have been chosen, international and
national leaders must make every effort to ensure that they do “not turn into a
free-for-all or excuse for vengeance against political enemies.”112
9. Where criminal prosecution is not feasible, an official investigatory
commission of some sort is necessary to provide a degree of accountability.
Its work can be detailed, authoritative, and unbiased in identifying both per-
petrators and victims. It can foster healing and spiritual reparation, support
future trials (if they become viable) or nonpenal sanctions such as disqualifica-
tion from public office, and establish a clear record for future generations. It
also can recommend reforms, compensation, and other corrective measures.
Moreover, such a commission would require fewer resources than are usually
required for international trials.113 It could provide a basis for restorative justice
in some situations.
10. Regardless of whether international judicial processes are used or
another accountability mechanism is employed, it is of vital importance
to strengthen the culture of legal compliance with additional measures in a
peacebuilding strategy. These should include human rights education, public
information about the possible work of international or domestic courts, the

content of the law, the meaning of ratification of treaties specifying crimes and
extradition procedures, and ways to upgrade domestic laws so that they crimi-
nalize internal war crimes and crimes against humanity. When relevant, states
should be encouraged to prosecute crimes that may take place outside their
territory, as well as within, if they have the accused on their territory or can
extradite them.114 No matter how successful international judicial processes
become, they can never substitute for human rights education and consensus-
building to encourage compliance with fundamental norms.
Peace, Justice, and Peacebuilding
Because unnecessary losses of human life may often occur if armed conflicts are
prolonged by negotiations over the use of international judicial processes, these
may need to be suspended if violence can more speedily be brought to an end. In
the ICC’s first case, the Ugandan parties faced this dilemma. The foremost desire
of people directly affected at the village level is to end the fighting and abductions
as soon as possible, regardless of what an immediate cease-fire may mean for
law enforcement. Nonetheless, as the interviews with Ugandans also indicate,
after the killing stops, more needs to be done in truth telling115 and address-
ing the justice needs of those who have survived victimization. Here legal
procedures—often aided by international personnel and authority—are essen-
tial. Peacemaking, followed by truth telling and justice seeking to the fullest
degree they can be realized, will greatly reduce the likelihood of future atroci-
ties. So the basic peacebuilding strategy should never be viewed as a choice
between peace or justice, or as a choice between expedient bargaining for peace
or inexpedient legal protection of human rights. The most prudent and effective
peacebuilding strategy will always include both building peace and protecting human
rights.
Moreover, to be most effective, international judicial processes should
always be seen as one part of a much larger, holistic process of peacebuilding.
They complement and supplement other essential practices. In isolation, they
can be perceived as divisive and inflammatory. Together with other construc-
tive legal, political, economic, and educational efforts, they provide truth-filled
accountability for past injustices and clarity about standards that all should fol-
low in the future. To conclude that many influences work together to achieve
peacebuilding is not to diminish the importance of international judicial prac-
tices. Indeed, the ICC or an excellent hybrid court can perform functions that
are essential for effective peacebuilding that no other institutions can provide.
These functions include establishing authoritatively what crimes have been
committed (and have not been committed), who committed them, and who
was injured. In addition, international courts can clarify, publicize, and uphold
precise standards for what is acceptable conduct.
These standards gain credibility precisely because they are international and
have been endorsed by national governments throughout the world. Lederach
and Appleby correctly emphasize that peacebuilding is local because it is in local

communities that people need to experience security, tranquility, and justice.116
Nonetheless, local respect for a rule against genocide can often be enhanced by
an international legal process because it transcends local prejudices and imple-
ments a norm that gains credibility by its universal endorsement. Genocide
may be practiced locally, but the norm against it is strongest when it is sup-
ported universally. In no society can it be considered legal or morally accept-
able to rape or kill a Jew because she is a Jew—or a Muslim or a Christian or a
Hindu or a Buddhist.
International judicial processes, if of high professional standards, help
establish what Lederach and Appleby aptly list as essential elements of peace-
building: the rule of law and protection of human rights.117 International judi-
cial processes at their best also avoid the peacebuilding pitfall of “moving too
quickly beyond the most immediate community of concern and agency.”118
Although international courts apply universal laws, they deal with real-world
cases that are unavoidably local, giving them opportunities to encourage the
building of some local judicial expertise and public understanding of the rule
of law. Rather than simply leave the scene when the trials are over, they can at
least leave behind more experienced people with a better understanding of the
rule of law. To be sure, the ICC and hybrid courts need to give more thought to
this latter dimension and how their work can “include, respect, and promote
the human and cultural resources . . . within a given setting.”119 This can be
done well only with more deliberate intention and strategic planning.
Trading Prosecution for a Cease-Fire?

As the foregoing analysis indicates, it is plausible that in some instances lives
can be saved by agreeing to suspend a judicial investigation or prosecution
already under way. In such instances, what should the court do? There are many
constraints on what the ICC can do (regardless of what it would like to do) in
stopping a proceeding once it has reached the stage of formal investigation,
indictment, or prosecution. To obtain a cease-fire in return for not prosecut-
ing alleged war criminals might not be simple to arrange, even if court offi-
cials would decide to do so. Certainly the court is not well positioned to arrange
cease-fires. The ICC has expertise in achieving justice, but it is not equipped to
make judgments about when or how to negotiate peace. In the Ugandan case,
the Security Council, which is charged by the international community with
maintaining world peace and security, is in a better position to elicit a peace
agreement from the belligerents than is the court. If the Security Council is
able to negotiate a cease-fire, it could, acting in accord with the Rome Statute,
decide that the ICC should stop all proceedings for one year. It could renew that
request indefinitely if it chose to do so.120 The Security Council is the best situ-
ated and most legitimate body to adjust judicial enforcement to the attainment
of peace.
At times, it might be possible for the ICC to arrange the equivalent of
what might be considered a plea bargain in domestic legal practice. Yet the
seriousness of the crimes that the court prosecutes would frequently dimin-
ish a desire to offer a lesser charge in return for any benefit that the accused
may deliver to the court. The presumption of accountability and a disincli-
nation to accept impunity has grown over the past two decades, making it
unlikely the ICC would or should offer perpetrators of serious crimes total
immunity from prosecution, even in exchange for an end to violent con-
flict,121 except in rare cases. Sometimes questionable amnesties may, after
time passes, be reversed through changes in public opinion and new judicial
processes.122 The Rome Statute does authorize the prosecutor to halt pro-
ceedings if he or she determines, subject to the approval of a Pre-Trial Cham-
ber of judges,123 that “a prosecution is not in the interests of justice, taking
into account all the circumstances.”124 The meaning of “justice” might be
stretched to include “peace” if one understands that war inevitably violates
justice for many people. But the court is not equipped to obtain a cease-fire
agreement or to enforce it once signed.
For the future, the ICC could explore ways to make its indictments condi-
tional to avoid the political quandary of being blamed for interfering with the
achievement of a cease-fire when indictments of top leaders appear to make
them reluctant to stop fighting. Again, the proposed guiding principle of maxi-
mizing the preservation of human life is useful. Of course, it is always pref-
erable for individual moral responsibility to be assigned for hideous crimes
and for those who have wrongfully taken human life to face penalties for this
unlawful conduct. Still, if efforts to prosecute perpetrators postpone an end to
their killing others, then prosecution might reasonably be postponed or given
up altogether. But the bargain to be struck with the accused should be made
conditional to prevent unwarranted concessions to the accused. Even if the
international community should decide to give up prosecutions it should not
give up truth telling.
To begin, it must always be made clear that the ICC is not responsible for
the accused persons’ continued fighting and killing. The court is not asking any
indicted person to admit guilt; it is only asking the accused to face a fair trial.
This is a reasonable request, if indictments are fairly drawn up. The accused
persons’ claims that they are entitled to continue fighting or committing atroci-
ties because they do not want to answer to charges against themselves are not
reasonable or (quite possibly) legal. The responsibility for continued killing
must always be placed on the killers, not on the court.
The ICC might agree to postpone prosecution of charges contained in
an indictment (but not the prosecution of future wrongdoing should addi-
tional unlawful conduct occur) for as long as the following conditions would
exist: the indictees agree to a cease-fire; they implement the cease-fire within
their organization; and they maintain the cease-fire, insofar as it depends
on the conduct of the accused. In addition, the indicted persons might be
required to give a public accounting of their conduct related to the indict-
ment and agree not to hold public office or military rank in the future.125
These provisions do not impose any severe penalties on the accused,
but they do require some truth telling, which is the very least to which the
PEACE AND JUSTICE? 217
victims and their families are entitled, as well as the least that public trust
and the commonweal require.
Identifying International Judicial Processes and Peacebuilding

Strategies that Support Each Other
An examination of recent cases of armed conflict and international judicial
proceedings demonstrates that successful strategies for making peace and
achieving justice always intersect and often inextricably mingle, suggesting
that pitting peace against justice or justice against peace is a misleading and
destructive oversimplification. As Faisal Al Bagir of the Sudanese Organization
Against Torture and the Khartoum Centre for Human Rights and Educational
Development explained: “Accountability, political peace processes and civilian
protection must all be part of one package for Darfur. There is no contradiction
between peace and justice.”126 Although the strategic emphasis to be placed on
the different components of the package will vary from case to case and time to
time, the package as a whole, and each of three components—peace, accounta-
bility, and justice—must always inform peacebuilding strategies.127 Until there
is more understanding of the precise conditions under which international
judicial instruments contribute to social integration, the preferred peacebuild-
ing strategy should be to identify, nurture, and employ the qualities of judicial
processes and the accompanying social conditions that will build a democratic
rule-of-law society. Such a society will contribute to both justice and peace in
the long run.
In designing the best peacebuilding strategy, all parties should remember
that the ICC or other international judicial processes are only a small part of the
peacebuilding picture. Many influences will shape the prospects for peacebuild-
ing. Moreover, the domestic peacebuilding picture is only one part of the total
peacebuilding picture, which includes the ICC’s or other international actors’
contributions to upholding norms and reforming structures to curtail gross vio-
lations of human rights around the world. Even an estimate that a particular
ICC prosecution may not contribute much to domestic peacebuilding is not a
sufficient reason to stop it (unless its continuance would violate the life-saving
principle). The ICC might still contribute to peacebuilding within the larger
global society. Courts in all venues usually face the prospect that one litigant and
his or her supporters will not like an outcome of the court’s proceedings; yet the
court renders a decision for the good of society, even if one subgroup of soci-
ety becomes somewhat alienated from the judicial processes as a result of that
unpopular decision. Similarly, from the perspective of global society, a widely
recognized international norm should not go unenforced just because a self-
interested subgroup of global society might be unhappy with its enforcement.
We should also remember that the ICC is not well positioned to orchestrate
reconciliation in the society where one or more of its elites has committed
crimes, even though some expect the court to achieve reconciliation. In Uganda,
many criticized the court for not being more adept at promoting reconciliation
between the LRA and the people of northern Uganda, from whom many child
soldiers were abducted and on whom many crimes were inflicted. Of course
the ICC is happy when its work promotes reconciliation and social healing, but
its function is primarily focused on trying to uphold law impartially. It is not as
well equipped to engineer social integration as are many other governmental,
intergovernmental, and nongovernmental agencies. Moreover, its law enforce-
ment function is usually limited to trying the main, high-level wrongdoers,
while leaving to national courts and international truth commissions the long-
term, arduous tasks of restorative justice and social reconciliation.
With these reflections in mind, the present analysis leads to four general
conclusions. First, to provide highly professional, yet locally sensitive investiga-
tions of gross violations of human rights, international judicial prosecutions
should be the default setting for peacebuilding strategies, unless domestic
institutions and agencies working for retributive and restorative justice can
carry these out impartially. Whether judicial processes engage national or
international institutions, or both, they can provide an improved climate for
reconciliation and resumption of normal life. Often the political stresses and
social, economic, and ethnic divisions may be sufficiently strong to overwhelm
the potential peacebuilding benefits from domestic institutions acting alone. In
such cases, they should be buttressed by international participation in hybrid
arrangements that aim to glean the best of both worlds. In cases where few cred-
ible domestic judicial institutions exist and the ICC is called on to do the job,
it can contribute legitimacy, experience, and legal precedents. There are many
good reasons to establish a standard procedure whereby the strengths of the
ICC can be directly utilized, through collaborative efforts, even when a hybrid
court is the chosen instrument. When neither domestic nor international trials
are possible, other mechanisms of accountability should be employed.
To a significant extent, existing studies demonstrate that the conditions
enabling international judicial contributions to succeed in peacebuilding are
similar to the conditions enabling UN peace operations to succeed in the after-
math of violent conflict within a society.128
Second, if perpetrators can be brought to trial in exemplary judicial proc-
esses, the court decisions can remove many of them from positions of power
and signal a fresh start with meaningful moral regeneration in a formerly
strife-ridden, poorly governed society. These are essential steps for successful
peacebuilding and reestablishing trust within society.129 A society haunted
by numerous atrocities is unlikely to succeed at the “perilous task of moral
regeneration.” This task means “establishing a new order of political, legal,
and social relationships that affirms certain moral truths or principles denied
by previous modes and orders, and which aims at preventing a recurrence of
violations of those moral truths or principles.”130 The ICC is “a legal, moral,
and political institution that aims to serve the project of moral regeneration
by affirming the rule of law . . . in domestic and international societies; by
focusing on individual accountability. . . ; and by promoting deterrence through
the punishment of perpetrators, and social reconciliation through reparations
for victims.”131 If the ICC is able to perform its duties, it can contribute sig-
nificantly to moral regeneration after communal violence and internal war, as
claimed by many scholars, Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and

most other human rights organizations, as well as by the UN Secretary General
and many governmental leaders.132
Lu wisely cautions that the limits of judicial punishment “for advancing the
project of moral regeneration,” a project that animates peacebuilding, should
be kept in mind by peacebuilding strategists. “The moral utility of such meas-
ures as punishment, amnesty, and reparation depends on their contribution
to the project of moral regeneration.” She notes that “punishment, amnesty,
and reparation make moral sense only if they do not undermine, but are con-
sonant with, the positive promotion of respect for the humanitarian principles
underlying the ICC’s mandate.”133 This important moral assessment cannot
be made in the abstract; it depends on how much evidence is found, how a
case is argued, how judges perform and explain their verdicts, how the media
portray the issues to the public, and how well the public understands its own
moral life.
Third, the overall peacebuilding benefit from international judicial pro-
ceedings depends on the extent to which the proceedings demonstrate, and are
perceived to demonstrate, that they are fair in upholding the most fundamental
human rights. For accountability efforts to have a strong, positive impact, Jane
Stromseth, David Wippman, and Rosa Brooks found that “the accountability
proceedings . . . [must] demonstrate credibly that previous patterns of abuse
and impunity are rejected and that justice can be fair.”134 Without this demon-
strative effect, domestic peacebuilding will not be helped by judicial processes.
In Uganda, some observers believe that the peacebuilding potential of the ICC
wasjeopardized when the court seemed to work too closely with the Ugandan
government, one of the two belligerents in the armed conflict. The latter ref-
erred its adversary, the LRA, to the court while retaining jurisdiction over its own
military officials who had also been accused of war crimes.135
Fourth, peacebuilding strategies will succeed in the long run by the extent
to which they increase domestic and global legal capacities and nurture a cul-
ture of legal compliance and social integration aimed at building just rule-of-law
societies nationally and globally.136 Such strategies should include nurturing
structural change that holds individuals accountable to international law. Yet
of course, the ICC alone “is insufficient to legitimize or stabilize international
order.”137 Although essential, it would also be a mistake to expect too much
from international accountability processes (whether trials or truth commis-
sions). There must be a much larger peacebuilding effort to strengthen peo-
ple’s understanding of and commitment to fundamental human rights norms
and institutionalizing structures of accountability, using both local and interna-
tional instruments, rather than acquiescing in existing international structures
that allow impunity.
If international society, Lu aptly cautions, “is quick to punish through
the ICC, but slow to help empower the destitute and the marginalized, [it]
would constitute a perversion rather than a fulfillment of the universalist human-
itarian ideals underlying the ICC’s mandate.” The ICC’s ability “to support
the project of moral regeneration” in formerly war-torn societies “may depend
on . . . transformations in the international economic and political context. . . .

The quest for moral regeneration in domestic societies may be inextricably
linked to the moral regeneration of international society itself.”138 This is a
healthy reminder that we should be ever conscious of ends and focus on strategic
peacebuilding as part of a holistic enterprise of interconnected measures, not on
a particular technique or a legal or institutional fix. As the populations of north-
ern Uganda themselves expressed, “a multi-faceted transitional justice response,
combining several processes and institutions to address different types of harm
caused by different levels of perpetrators, is required.”139 More important than
holding a trial are the purposes and values that it serves, and how it is organically
related to other peacebuilding initiatives. International judicial processes will
have more positive influences in some contexts and at some stages in a conflict’s
life cycle than others. They may deter plans for war or ethnic cleansing. They
may deter crimes during the waging of violence. They may promote cease-fires
by indicting officials accused of illegal conduct and thereby helping international
society isolate them, discredit them, and mount effective measures to constrain
them. They may aid negotiations of peace agreements by enabling negotiators
to say a new government may not include any indicted persons, as happened in
the Dayton Accords. Of course, they would directly aid in prosecutions, trials,
truth seeking, and reparations. They can expand and legitimate the information
for memory. They can protect against gender crimes in a world where gender
sensitivity is still far from the norm. Their decisions, even if leaving the immedi-
ate litigants unhappy, can contribute to broader social reconciliation.140 At their
best, international judicial processes are a lynchpin in replacing genocide,
crimes against humanity, and war crimes with rule-of-law societies, nationally
and globally, and respect for human life and dignity throughout the world.
Universalizing respect for human life is peacebuilding par excellence.
NOTES
The author thanks Hao Phen for research assistance and substantive suggestions in
preparing this chapter.
1. See, for example, Jack Snyder and Leslie Vinjamuri, “Trials and Errors: Princi-
ple and Pragmatism in Strategies of International Justice,” International Security 28,
no. 3 (2003/2004): 5–44.
2. Michael P. Scharf, “The ICC’s Jurisdiction over the Nationals of Non-Party
States: A Critique of the U.S. Position,” Law and Contemporary Problems 67 (2001): 152.
3. “The question of whether and how accountability proceedings can contribute to
strengthening domestic justice systems and to building the rule of law in post-conflict
societies is surprisingly under analyzed.” Jane Stromseth, David Wippman, and Rosa
Brooks, Can Might Make Rights? Building the Rule of Law after Military Interventions
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 253. For an excellent, thoroughly
documented discussion of accountability issues, see chapters 7, 8, and 9.
4. In addition to suggesting a rule-utilitarian ethic, I give significant weight to the
consent of the population immediately affected by atrocities. The rationale for this is
that the “default setting” for policy preferences should be to prosecute the accused to
assign specific moral responsibility for criminal conduct, reaffirm the norms that
all should follow, and provide some modicum of justice for the victims and their
families. But if a situation arises in which it is unclear what to do because proceed-

ing with prosecutions may delay a cease-fire agreement and result in further loss of
human life, the ambiguity of the decision should be influenced by what the people
who are most directly affected want to do. What one should do to maximize the protec-
tion of human life, after all, should be influenced by what the persons whose lives are
on the line calculate is the preferred course of action.
5. International Center for Transitional Justice and Human Rights Center at the
University of California (Berkeley), “A Voice for Victims” (New York: International
Center for Transitional Justice, 2005), 5.
6. See Osman Hummaida, former director of the Sudanese Organization Against
Torture, quoted by Deirdre Clancy, “Prosecutor’s Announcement Sends Ripples
through Sudan,” Monitor: Journal of the Coalition for the International Criminal Court 34
(May–October 2007): 13.
7. Amitav Acharya, “How Ideas Spread: Whose Norms Matter? Norm
Localization and Institution Change in Asian Regionalism.” International Organization
58 (2004): 239–275.
8. On “domesticating” foreign policies in the international system, see Robert C.
Johansen, “The Future of United Nations Peacekeeping and Enforcement: A Frame-
work for Policymaking,” Global Governance 2 (1996): 301; Robert C. Johansen, The
National Interest and the Human Interest: An Analysis of U.S. Foreign Policy (Princeton,
N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1980), 14–37.
9. United Nations Secretary General, Report of the Secretary General on the
Rule of Law and Transitional Justice in Conflict and Post-conflict Societies, UN Doc.
S/2004/616 (August 23, 2004), para. 6, p. 4, accessed at http://daccessdds.un.org/
doc/UNDOC/GEN/N04/395/29/PDF/N0439529.pdf?OpenElement.
10. Ibid.
11. Preamble to the Rome Statute.
12. See Payam Akhavan, “The Lord’s Resistance Army Case: Uganda’s Submis-
sion of the First State Referral to the International Criminal Court,” American Journal
of International Law 99, no. 2 (2005).
13. International Center for Transitional Justice and Human Rights Center at
the University of California (Berkeley), “Forgotten Voices: A Population-Based Survey
on Attitudes About Peace and Justice in Northern Uganda” (New York: International
Center for Transitional Justice, 2005), 3.
14. Coalition for the International Criminal Court, “Peace and Justice: The
Importance of Accountability to Civilian Protection,” CICC Monitor 34 (May–October
2007): 13.
15. Ibid.
16. Juan E. Mendez, “Accountability for Past Abuses,” Human Rights Quarterly 19
(1997): 273.
17. Mahnoush H. Arsanjani and W. Michael Riesman, “The Law-in-Action of
the International Criminal Court,” American Journal of International Law 99, no. 2
(2005): 385. Quoted from “Uganda: ICC Could Suspend Northern Investigations,”
Spokesman, IRIN News (April 18, 2005), at http://www.irinnews.org.
18. Arsanjani and Riesman, “The Law-in-Action of the International Criminal
Court,” 385.
19. Ibid. Also see Katherine Southwick, “North Ugandan Conflict, Forgotten but
still Deadly,” YaleGlobal (March 9, 2005), at http://yaleglobal.yale.edu.
Court,” 385.
21. Akhavan, “The Lord’s Resistance Army Case,” 403.

22. Ibid.
23. Ibid., 404. Perhaps this came about in part because Sudanese leaders them-
selves were coming under ICC scrutiny for their alleged crimes.
24. Ibid.
25. Ibid., 404–405.
University of California (Berkeley), “Forgotten Voices,” 3.
27. Ibid.
28. Ibid., 4.
29. Ibid.
30. Ibid.
31. Ibid., 5.
University of California (Berkeley), “A Voice for Victims,” 7.
38. Office of the High Commissioner on Human Rights, Making Peace Our
Own: Victims’ Perceptions of Accountability, Reconciliation, and Transitional Justice in
Northern Uganda, August 14, 2007, accessed at http://www.reliefweb.int/rw/rwb.nsf/
db900SID/AMMF-763G7T.
39. Preamble to the Rome Statute.
40. Paul Seils and Marieke Wierda, “The International Criminal Court and Con-
flict Mediation” (New York: International Center for Transitional Justice, 2005), 2.
41. Coalition for the International Criminal Court, “Peace and Justice.”
42. Of course, this is true primarily in weak states, where international intervention
is a possibility, or in other states where human rights norms are already internalized.
One wonders how U.S. officials may have thought about their obligation to honor inter-
national law when they designed U.S. policies resulting in abusive treatment of detainees
during and following military operations in Afghanistan and Iraq. See the discussion
of the Alberto Gonzales memorandum, which claimed that U.S. prisoners were not
subject to protection by the Geneva Conventions, in Robert C. Johansen, “The Impact of
U.S. Policy toward the International Criminal Court on the Prevention of Genocide, War
Crimes, and Crimes against Humanity,” Human Rights Quarterly 28, no. 2 (2006).
43. Seils and Wierda, “The International Criminal Court and Conflict Mediation,” 2.
44. See the Report of the Secretary-General, “The Rule of Law and Transitional
Justice in Conflict and Post-conflict Societies,” UN Doc. S/2004/616, August 3, 2004,
para. 21. Quoted in Seils and Wierda, “The International Criminal Court and Conflict
Mediation,” 2.
45. See Comments of the Human Rights Committee, Consideration of Reports
Submitted by State Parties under Article 40 of the Covenant, para 10, U.N. Doc.
CCPR/C/79/Add.46 (1955), quoted in Mendez, “Accountability for Past Abuses,” 259.
46. Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide,

December 9, 1948, 78 U.N.T.S., 277; Mendez, “Accountability for Past Abuses,” 260.
47. Mendez, “Accountability for Past Abuses,” 261. “For ‘grave breaches’ of the
laws of war . . . there is a clear obligation to punish.” See Geneva IV, art. 146. Mendez,
“Accountability for Past Abuses,” 273.
48. Mendez, “Accountability for Past Abuses,” 261.
49. Ibid., 262. See eighth annual report, Leonardo Duspouy, Special Rapporteur
appointed pursuant to Economic Social Council resolution 1985/37 U.N. Doc. E/CN.4/
Sub.2/1995/20/Corr.1 (1955). Cited also by Mendez, “Accountability for Past Abuses,”
259.
50. Leila Nadya Sadat, “Exile, Amnesty and International Law,” Notre Dame Law
Review 81, no. 3 (2006): 955.
51. Ibid., 1034.
52. See Snyder and Vinjamuri, “Trials and Errors”; Dominic McGoldrick, “The
Legal and Political Significance of a Permanent International Criminal Court,” in The
Permanent International Criminal Court: Legal and Policy Issues, edited by Dominic
McGoldrick, Peter Rowe, and Eric Donnelly (Oxford: Hart, 2004), 556–559.
53. Patrick Hayden, Cosmopolitan Global Politics (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), 113.
54. On the question of deterrence, see M. Cherif Bassiouni, “Accountability for
Violations of International Humanitarian Law and Other Serious Violations of Human
Rights,” in Post-Conflict Justice, edited by M. Cherif Bassiouni (Netherlands: Hotei,
2003), 3–4, 54.
55. Even if arresting the accused is not possible because he or she is shielded by a
government, issuing a warrant can effectively prevent the accused person’s travel and
possibly restrict or freeze the international movement of assets. Steven R. Ratner and
Jason S. Abrams, Accountability for Human Rights Atrocities in International Law: Beyond
the Nuremberg Legacy (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2001), 301.
56. See ibid.
57. This happened to Sudanese officials, even though Sudan chose, as did the
United States, not to become a member of the court.
58. Catherine Lu, “The International Criminal Court as an Institution of Moral
Regeneration: Problems and Prospects,” in Bringing Power to Justice? The Prospects
of the International Criminal Court, edited by Joanna Harrington, Michael Milde, and
Richard Vernon (London: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2006), 206.
59. Ratner and Abrams, Accountability for Human Rights Atrocities, 295–296. The
particular instrument chosen for clarifying accountability, whether an investigatory
committee, a truth commission, or an international judicial procedure, “is less impor-
tant than the existence of some process for stigmatizing the offender and ensuring
that political settlements and transitions take account of human rights abuses” (296).
60. He speaks here of truth commissions as well as trials. Bruce Shapiro, “The
Saddam Spectacle,” Nation 284, no. 3 (2006): 4.
61. Sadat, “Exile, Amnesty and International Law,” 1035.
62. Juan Mendez notes: “For ‘grave breaches’ of the laws of war . . . there is a
clear obligation to punish.” Mendez, “Accountability for Past Abuses,” 273. See also
the Geneva Convention Relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War,
art. 146.
63. An exception to this generalization might be when exemplary national
judicial proceedings are conducted on grounds of universal jurisdiction. In such
cases, national proceedings would also have a salutary impact in other countries. I am
indebted to Hao Phen for this point.
64. For an excellent analysis of the role of truth commissions, see Priscilla B. Hayner,
Unspeakable Truths: Confronting State Terror and Atrocity (New York: Routledge, 2001).
65. Ratner and Abrams, Accountability for Human Rights Atrocities, 300.
67. The hybrid tribunal investigating crimes in East Timor, for example, has no
jurisdiction over persons in Indonesia, even though many of the worst crimes allegedly
were carried out by Indonesians, often on the payroll of the Indonesian government.
69. Ibid.
70. Time appears to be on the side of exemplary practice, although the dismissive
attitude of U.S. officials in the George W. Bush administration toward honoring the
Geneva Conventions protecting the rights of the accused is an alarming step away
from exemplary jurisprudential standards by a country long associated with support
for human rights.
71. International Crisis Group, “Courting Disaster: The Misrule of Law in Bosnia
& Herzegovina,” Balkans Report no. 127 (March 25, 2002): 54. Quoted also by Strom-
seth, Wippman, and Brooks, Can Might Make Rights? 239.
72. Stromseth, Wippman, and Brooks, Can Might Make Rights? 256.
73. See ibid., 254; and Laura A. Dickinson, “The Promise of Hybrid Courts,”
American Journal of International Law (2003): 295.
74. There have been numerous reports that the populations in Rwanda and
Uganda are unaware of or poorly informed about the work of the ICTR and the ICC,
respectively. Their citizens feel distant from the judicial processes, the local press does
not pay much attention to proceedings to inform the populace, and the families of
victims do not feel connected to the processes. International Center for Transitional
Justice and Human Rights Center at the University of California (Berkeley), “Forgotten
Voices” and “A Voice for Victims.”
University of California (Berkeley), “A Voice for Victims.”
76. The Rome Statute allows for in situ proceedings in Article 3.3. The ICC,
aware of its need to communicate more effectively in situations where it is at work, has
begun to consider in situ hearings and opening field offices where they would aid ful-
fillment of the court’s mission. See Human Rights Watch, Courting History: The Land-
mark International Criminal Court’s First Years, http://www.hrw.org/en/node/62135/
section/1, 100–115.
77. “Trials can . . . give victims a sense of justice that helps them move forward
without a need to seek personal vengeance,” thereby assisting peacebuilding. Stromseth,
Wippman, and Brooks, Can Might Make Rights? 250.
78. See the Afghan Independent Human Rights Commission, A Call for Justice:
A National Consultation on Past Human Rights Violations in Afghanistan, p. 21, available
at http://www.aihrc.org.af/rep_Eng_29_01_05.htm. For analysis, see Stromseth,
79. UN Secretary General, Report of the Secretary General on the Rule of Law
and Transitional Justice in Conflict and Post-Conflict Societies, para. 10, delivered to
the Security Council, U.N. Doc. S/2004/616 (August 3, 2004).
80. UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, Report on the Mission Under-
taken by Her Office, Pursuant to Commission Resolution 200/60, to Assess the Situa-
tion on the Ground with Regard to the Abduction of Children from Northern Uganda,
paras. 12–13, UN Doc. E/CN.4/2002/86 (2001), available at http://www.ohchr.org/
english. Quoted by Akhavan, “The Lord’s Resistance Army Case,” 410.
82. See ibid.
83. On the domestication of the international system, see Johansen, “The Future
of United Nations Peacekeeping and Enforcement,” 301; Johansen, The National Inter-
est and the Human Interest, 14–37.
Court,” 402–403.
86. Ibid.
87. Patrick Hayden concludes that “the move toward individual responsibility
(accompanied by the emergence of human rights and humanitarian law) represents a
change in focus that is a sign of global transformation towards a more cosmopolitan
conception of world law.” Hayden, Cosmopolitan Global Politics, 114. See also David
Held, Democracy and the Global Order: From the Modern State to Cosmopolitan Govern-
ance (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1995), 101–103.
88. The argument of necessity to follow superior orders may be used to mitigate
a punishment, but it cannot be used to justify illegal conduct.
89. Hayden, Cosmopolitan Global Politics, 114.
90. See Quincy Wright, The Role of International Law in the Elimination of War
(New York: Oceana, 1961).
91. Hayden, Cosmopolitan Global Politics, 114.
92. See ibid.
93. Paul Gordon Lauren, The Evolution of International Human Rights: Visions
Seen (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003); Brian D. Lepard, Rethink-
ing Humanitarian Intervention (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press,
2002).
95. A tendency to understate the benefits of international judicial proceedings is
found in Snyder and Vinjamuri, “Trials and Errors.”
96. Richard Falk, “Criminal Accountability in Transitional Justice,” Peace Review
12, no. 1 (2000): 82.
98. These benefits included establishing as virtually indisputable that heinous
crimes did occur, so they could not later be credibly denied. In addition, trials estab-
lished that certain Germans and Japanese did commit the crimes. Both Germans
and non-Germans, Japanese and non-Japanese could see some authoritative attribu-
tion of responsibility, thereby differentiating those who did behave criminally from
those who did not. Impartial trials prepare the ground for peacebuilding because
they discourage collective guilt by establishing individual guilt. This is desirable
for both those living in the society where the crimes occurred and for those living
elsewhere who might form negative stereotypes of the entire nation where crimes
occurred.
100. See ibid., 301–302.
the University of California (Berkeley), “Forgotten Voices,” 5.
102. See Garth Meintjes and Juan E. Mendez, “Reconciling Amnesties with
Universal Jurisdiction,” Internatinal Law Forum 2 (2000): 76–77. Amnesty laws lost
constructive peacebuilding influence “when they became shameful tools for perpetuat-
ing the impunity enjoyed by violators of human rights, rather than opportunities for
reconciliation among warring parties.” Meintjes and Mendez, “Reconciling Amnesties

with Universal Jurisdiction,” 76–77.
103. Ibid., 97.
105. Ibid.
the University of California (Berkeley), “A Voice for Victims,” 18.
107. Ibid.
108. Many observers have felt that President Alfredo Cristiani in El Salvador used
reconciliation to mean “get over it,” as did some generals in Argentina. Such misuse of
reconciliation, of course, does not contribute to peacebuilding.
the University of California (Berkeley), “A Voice for Victims,” 18.
113. See ibid., 300.
114. See ibid., 302.
115. In his analysis of recent armed conflicts, Christopher Hedges concludes that
reconciliation is not possible without widespread acceptance of “the most precious and
elusive of all human narratives—truth.” War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning (New
York: Anchor, 2003), 82.
116. As they say, “peacebuilding begins and ends with the local.” See “Strategic
Peacebuilding: An Overview,” chapter 1, 35.
117. Ibid., 34.
118. Ibid., 27.
119. Ibid., 28.
120. Article 16. Of course there is no inherent conflict between international
judicial proceedings and the work of the Security Council in exercising its primary
responsibility for maintaining peace and security. Indeed, when facing the war in the
former Yugoslavia, the Security Council decided in Resolution 827 to establish an
international criminal tribunal “as a contribution to the restoration of peace.” See Dan
Sarooshi, “The Peace and Justice Paradox: The International Criminal Court and the
UN Security Council,” in The Permanent International Court: Legal and Policy Issues,
edited by Dominic McGoldrick, Peter Rowe, and Eric Donnelly (Oxford: Hart,
2004), 105.
121. The presumption against impunity has been reinforced by the creation and
continued support for the ad hoc tribunals for the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda,
the exercise of the concept of extraterritorial jurisdiction, including universal jurisdic-
tion, the establishment of the permanent International Criminal Court specifically
to prosecute individuals accused of criminal conduct, and the establishment of the
Special Court for Sierra Leone and other mixed tribunals for Cambodia, Kosovo,
and Timor-Leste. The United Nations has participated in efforts to create all of
these mixed tribunals, thereby adding to their legal standing. In addition, all fifteen
members of the Security Council have explicitly expressed their commitment to
accountability. See Seils and Wierda, “The International Criminal Court and Conflict
Mediation,” 2. The UN Secretary General has strongly stated that UN-endorsed peace
agreements cannot give amnesty for genocide, war crimes, crimes against human-
ity, or gross violations of human rights, although it has supported amnesties for less
serious crimes. Amnesties given by others are not a bar to prosecution in UN-created
or -assisted courts. See Report of the Secretary-General, “The Rule of Law and
Transitional Justice in Conflict and Post-conflict Societies,” UN Doc. S/2004/616,
August 3, 2004, para. 21.
122. This happened in eventually bringing legal charges against former President
Augusto Pinochet of Chile, despite his lifetime immunity.
123. Article 53.3.
124. Article 53.1(c).
125. The ban on holding future public office could be considered a penalty for
some, but it is not too much to ask of those who are indicted but refuse to stand
trial.
126. Coalition for the International Criminal Court, “Peace and Justice.”
127. Some of the debate between advocates of justice and advocates of peace may
arise from the strong preference of peacebuilders and justice seekers for one more
than the other, rather than from careful analysis of how peace and justice can nurture
one another.
128. On what enables UN peacekeeping and enforcement to succeed, see these
excellent complementary analyses: Michael Doyle, “War Making and Peace Making:
The United Nations’ Post–Cold War Record,” in Turbulent Peace: The Challenges of
Managing International Conflict, edited by Chester A. Crocker, Fen Osler Hampson,
and Pamela Aall (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace Press, 2001); Stephen
John Stedman, “International Implementation of Peace Agreements in Civil Wars:
Findings from a Study of Sixteen Cases,” in Turbulent Peace: The Challenges of
Managing International Conflict, edited by Chester A. Crocker, Fen Osler Hampson,
and Pamela Aall (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace Press, 2001).
129. This conclusion parallels one of the findings of Stromseth, Wippman,
and Brooks in their more narrowly focused examination of the “long term impact of
accountability proceedings on the rule of law.” They conclude that “the effective disem-
powerment of key perpetrators who threaten stability and undermine public confi-
dence in the rule of law” is necessary to nurture a rule-of-law society. See Stromseth,
130. Lu, “The International Criminal Court as an Institution of Moral Regenera-
tion,” 191.
131. Ibid., 206. Lu also notes that “as a mechanism of moral accounting that
focuses on individual agency and responsibility, the ICC will not be nearly sufficient
by itself to address the institutional and structural roots of political violence and
atrocity. The verdicts of the ICC therefore should not exhaust the search for moral
and especially causal responsibility, which is crucial to the ultimate objective of
prevention.”
132. See ibid., 191.
133. Ibid., 206.
Court,” 385.
136. Stromseth, Whippman, and Brooks concluded that the impact of account-
ability proceedings depends on “the extent to which systematic and meaningful efforts
at domestic capacity-building are included as part of the accountability process.” See
Stromseth, Wippman, and Brooks, Can Might Make Rights? 254.
137. Lu, “The International Criminal Court as an Institution of Moral Regenera-

tion,” 206.
138. Ibid., 207.
139. Office of the High Commissioner on Human Rights, Making Peace Our
Own: Victims’ Perceptions of Accountability, Reconciliation, and Transitional Justice in
Northern Uganda, August 14, 2007, accessed at hhtp://www.reliefweb.int/rw/rwb.nsf/
db900SID/AMMF-763G7T.
140. Juan E. Mendez, “A Voice for Victims,” in Annual Report 2004/2005 (New York:
International Center for Transitional Justice, 2006), 207.
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———. “A Voice for Victims.” 1–40. New York: International Center for Transitional
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9
Human Rights and Strategic
Peacebuilding
The Roles of Local, National, and
International Actors
Naomi Roht-Arriaza
Human rights as concept and as law plays multiple roles in the ces-
sation of armed conflict and in the (re)construction of a more just
and peaceful society. Human rights is the rallying cry of those who
feel oppressed; it is the standard by which new government efforts
to build rule of law will be judged; it is the rubric under which new
domestic institutions like ombudsmen and human rights commis-
sions to safeguard individuals and groups against official arbitrari-
ness will operate. Human rights provisions in peace agreements
range from those on refugee return and prisoner release to those on
trials, truth commissions, vetting, reparations, and other attempts
to repair past violations to efforts to ensure a human rights culture.1
Adherence to human rights treaties will often be one of the earliest
acts of a postconflict government, a move imbued with symbolism.
Human rights concerns also engage the supervisory mechanisms
available on the international level, from UN procedures to regional
courts to conditionalities on reconstruction assistance. International
human rights law will set the limits to what governments can do: it
will influence the shape of power sharing or other arrangements to
protect minorities, it will demand resources and planning for educa-
tion, health, and other economic, social, and cultural rights; it will
insist on a minimum of public participation and free expression.
As countries emerge from periods of armed confrontation or
extreme repression, human rights lawyers and activists have paid par-
ticular attention to strategic peacebuilding, understanding that dealing
with the past is a necessary condition for constructing a lasting, posi-
tive peace based on a more just order. Over the past twenty years or so,
a varied and complex international practice has grown up around
post–armed conflict efforts to deal with past crimes, including trials, truth
commissions, reparations programs, psychosocial interventions, vetting and
recomposition of security forces and public officials, changes in law, and
multiple commemorative efforts. Although initially there were fierce debates
about whether, for example, truth commissions were better than trials, by
now there is a broad consensus that governments can and may use multiple
measures, either simultaneously or sequentially.2 In other words, we needed
to embrace dilemmas and paradoxes,3 in an “ecological model” of post–armed
conflict reconstruction and renewal.4 In this effort, international human rights
and humanitarian law have provided the outer limits within a broad range of
options.
However, a state’s efforts to address human rights violations in the past
depend not only on the actions of the central government but also, crucially,
on several types of actors who exert their own influence and affect the actions
and role of central governments. These include international, regional, trans-
national, and local actors. Thus far, their importance and interdependence has
been insufficiently recognized. Just as different pieces of a postconflict agenda
must be thought about as a whole and much thought must go into which tasks
go together and which must be done sequentially, the same is true of different
sites of action. This chapter looks at the interplay of these different sites, with a
focus on the issues raised by the need to provide justice—in a broad sense—for
the victims of armed conflict and repressive dictatorship. It concludes that it is
important as part of strategic peacebuilding to engage all these levels from the
start and carefully think through both synergies and potential tensions involved
among them. In particular, until very recently, insufficient attention was paid
to the local, subnational town or village, even though that is where most people
live their lives and where they may feel most keenly the impact of impunity or
lack of reparation. A human rights framework and an approach based on the
complementarity of actions at different scales may be quite useful.
The National State
The national state is the starting place for any discussion of postconflict recon-
struction, whether physical or moral. The state will necessarily play a central
role in defining the contours of state policy, creating a new or reformed national
identity and mythology, and allocating resources. In particular, the national
state will be the central player in reform of national institutions, from prisons
to police and army to the judiciary and prosecutors’ service. States will also,
obviously, be central to criminal prosecutions for human rights–related crimes
in national courts, national truth commissions or other types of truth-seeking
efforts, reparations schemes reliant on government funds, and efforts to end
exclusionary practices that affect minorities or other aggrieved groups. Where
the state as such has been the principal source of human rights violations
and violence has been vertical, running from state agents to citizens (as, for
HUMAN RIGHTS AND STRATEGIC PEACEBUILDING 233
example, in Chile), national actions will be particularly important to establish

the bright line between the former and current governments.
In fulfilling this key role, however, the national state is limited by a number
of factors. Existing institutions may be discredited due to their complicity or
silence in the face of repression or gross human rights violations. They may
have been so decimated by the violence, or so incipient to begin with, that
they must be (re)built from scratch. Money and human and technical resources
will be scarce, and competition for resources fierce given ruined infrastructure,
fragile or distorted economies, and a predictable surge in common crime in the
postconflict period. There may be a continuing lack of trust between former
enemies and lack of a culture of political give-and-take that make compromise
and negotiation difficult. Moreover, in many societies emerging from periods
of armed conflict, the capital city has long centralized resources and oppor-
tunities and may be worlds apart from the hinterland. Formal legal systems,
often a colonial inheritance, may seem irredeemably biased toward the rich or
simply incomprehensible to most people. Even a national truth commission,
especially one with a largely written output, may seem remote.
Thus, to build a lasting peace, national responses are not enough. Strategic
peacebuilders must look both up—to the international sphere—and down, to
the local, to do what needs to be done.
The International and Transnational Contribution:

Catalysts with Caveats
Most obviously, foreign governments and international organizations are

providers of money and technical training for national initiatives. Every truth
commission, for example, has relied on outside funding to a greater or lesser
degree. International and hybrid tribunals are also dependent on outside
funding and expertise; indeed, one of the reasons to set up such institutions
is to capitalize on outside resources and expertise and, in the case of hybrid
(national-international) tribunals and commissions, to use them as a train-
ing ground for nationals. The international sphere also constitutes a source
of pressure on national governments and nonstate armed actors to conform
to certain norms, including the need to take some action to deal with past
human rights or armed conflict–related crimes. Thus, certain types of blanket
amnesties, at least for genocide, “grave breaches” of the Geneva Conventions,
and torture, are clearly prohibited in international treaty law, whereas increas-
ing evidence in the jurisprudence of international treaty bodies and regional
courts, national courts, the United Nations, and regional human rights prac-
tice points to strong disapproval (if not the absolute prohibition) of amnesty
for crimes against humanity and other serious violations of human rights or
humanitarian law.5
Beyond this, the 1990s saw the beginning of a new architecture of inter-
national justice, which in the current century has diversified and taken on
multiple forms even as criticism of the initial efforts has multiplied. Robert
Johansen’s chapter in this volume considers, among other examples, the

international criminal tribunals for the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda; I do
no more than mention them here. Although helping popularize and concre-
tize the idea of international justice, advancing international jurisprudence in
a number of fields, and disabling people who would otherwise have had a more
pernicious effect on local politics, the tribunals also had drawbacks. They have
been criticized for failing to make themselves accessible and relevant to the
populations of the target countries, for their remoteness, for lack of sensitiv-
ity to victims, for outreach failures, for not creating sustainable local justice
systems or adequately training the persons who must carry on once they close
down, and for not producing a historical record capable of convincing most
people that leaders of their ethnicity had done anything wrong.6
One solution has been to assay “hybrid” institutions. Truth commis-
sions in Haiti and Guatemala pioneered the use of both national and inter-
national commissioners and staff; the Sierra Leone Truth and Reconciliation
Commission followed a variant of that model. Hybrid courts in Sierra Leone,
East Timor, Kosovo, Bosnia, Cambodia, and elsewhere combine international
and national authority and staffing in various ways. Ideally, such institutions
can combine international independence, impartiality, and resources with a
grounding in national culture and law, reduced costs, on-site accessibility to
victims, and greater continuity and sustainability. They run the risk, however,
of creating orphan institutions fully owned by neither their national nor inter-
national backers.
Starting in 2002, the International Criminal Court (ICC) has represented
another variant on the national/international interface. Unlike the ad hoc tri-
bunals, the ICC’s jurisdiction is complementary to national courts. Under its
mandate to defer to national processes unless national courts are “unable or
unwilling,” the ICC does not measure success by how many cases it brings to
trial. Rather, if the threat of ICC prosecution prods domestic actors into moving
forward with some kind of accountability, that should be counted as a success.
Much of the actual work of the ICC, therefore, is to use the threat of interna-
tional prosecution to push and prod.
In addition, even under the best of circumstances, the ICC will only be
able to deal with a handful of the leaders on both sides of the conflict. Most
combatants, including those forcibly recruited and forced to attack their own
communities will never be brought before either an international or an interna-
tionalized court. There is an emerging practice recognizing this differentiation.
Thus, the UN Security Council has since at least 2000 supported the idea that
the International Criminal Tribunals for the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda
should, as part of their completion strategy, “concentrat[e] on the prosecution
and trial of the most senior leaders suspected of being most responsible for
crimes,” while transferring cases involving lesser offenders to the national
courts. The prosecutor for the ICC has similarly expressed his office’s inten-
tion to focus on the leaders who bear most responsibility, such as the leaders
of the state or organization, while leaving lesser offenders to national courts or
other (unspecified) means. The Sierra Leone Special Court has a mandate to
prosecute those bearing the “greatest responsibility,” which may include not
only leaders but midlevel commanders who encouraged others by their acts.
Unless there is heightened cooperation and coordination with other levels
and types of justice, therefore, the focus of international and internationalized
criminal tribunals on a small group of leaders will lead to an “impunity gap.”
That gap will have to be filled with either national trials or some other type
of justice-related mechanism. Although focusing on leaders and organizers
makes sense from a standpoint of both limited resources and moral culpabil-
ity, it is often quite unsatisfying for victims. Even though survivors recognize
its ultimate responsibility, the army high command may be as much of an
abstraction as the state itself from a ground-level perspective.7 Rather, people
are interested in seeing on the docket those they saw and heard giving orders
and committing atrocities: only then does justice take on a real face. Moreo-
ver, those who participated in and organized terror at the local level and who
continue to enjoy impunity are often still “the most powerful local members
of the local apparatus of repression.”8 It is galling and disturbing to have to
live among such people, see them flaunt their power (and often, wealth), and
feel permanently silenced and threatened by their very presence. For citizens
to perceive a change in their daily lives, those people need to be removed from
the scene.
Like international prosecutions, transnational investigations and pros-
ecutions can catalyze domestic legal actions under certain circumstances.
The most often cited example is that of the Chilean prosecution of Augusto
Pinochet. In the mid-1990s, Pinochet seemed untouchable in the domestic
courts: laws granting blanket amnesty, statutes of limitations, referrals to mili-
tary courts, Pinochet’s parliamentary immunity, and his legislative support all
inhibited efforts to investigate his participation in crimes. In 1996, a group
of lawyers asked a Spanish judge to look into crimes committed in the 1970s
in Argentina, including what they styled as genocide, terrorism, and torture.
These crimes came within the jurisdiction of the Spanish courts through a
universal jurisdiction statute (Article 23.4 of the Law of Judicial Power) that
granted the local courts power to investigate a small group of very heinous
international crimes without any necessary tie to the place of their occurrence
or to the nationality of suspects or victims, based on every state’s interest in
suppressing such crimes. Three months later, the courts accepted a second
complaint, alleging similar crimes in Chile; the two investigations eventually
merged. When Pinochet arrived in London for back surgery, he was arrested
on a Spanish warrant. The British House of Lords found (twice) that he had no
immunity from extradition and prosecution as a former head of state, and that
the crimes—at least some of them—constituted extraditable crimes. Eventually,
he was returned to Chile on the grounds of his fragile health.
Once there, however, his legal troubles multiplied. His untouchability had
been broken, judges had seen their international peers find the charges against
him credible, and the Chilean government had strenuously argued abroad that
he should be tried at home, not in a foreign court. It now found itself unable
to oppose domestic trials. Domestic factors were also key: Chile had been
reforming its judiciary and retiring Pinochet-era judges, and the political winds
had clearly shifted against Pinochet. The first complaint against him was filed
several months before he left for London, as was the first Chilean Supreme
Court decision limiting the applicability of the amnesty laws. After he returned,
both trends accelerated: at their height, there were over 400 complaints nam-
ing Pinochet, and a series of Supreme Court decisions denying him immunity
and reopening investigations into his collaborators left the amnesty and statute
of limitations narrowed considerably. Thus, the case provides a good illustra-
tion of the use of outside pressure, through transnational criminal compla-
ints, to open up blocked domestic legal systems and make them do their job.
Before he died in 2006, Pinochet faced both corruption and human rights–
related charges and was awaiting trial, while many of his closest collaborators
are in jail.9
Similar histories can be told elsewhere. In Argentina, where members of
the military junta were tried in the mid-1980s, laws prohibiting further pros-
ecutions were also on the books. Pressures to extradite former military officers
to Europe on human rights–related charges helped convince domestic legis-
lators and judges to annul the amnesty laws and reopen long-closed cases.
Domestic advocates and human rights groups used international pressure
strategically to break domestic logjams, pressure the government into guaran-
teeing access to the courts, and convince sectors of the military that the choice
was between prosecution at home or abroad, not between prosecution and no
prosecution.10 In Chad, the case against Hissène Habré in the Senegalese and
later Belgian courts served to pressure the Chadian government into opening
its police archives, dismissing many Habré-era officials still in government,
and eventually extracting a promise from Senegal to try Habré in its courts. In
these cases, transnational prosecution seems to have helped open political and
legal space for domestic judicial processes.11
However, this is not always the case. A minimum threshold of safety and
security for witnesses, judges, and lawyers and a quota of civil society pressure
are needed before transnational prosecutions can have any positive effect. In
Central America, for example, it is hard to discern advances in domestic pros-
ecutions as a result of civil and criminal proceedings abroad, at least so far.
That changed briefly with the 2006 arrest warrants and extradition requests
issued by a Spanish judge against former presidents Efraín Ríos Montt and
Óscar Humberto Mejía Victores, along with other high-ranking Guatemalan
officials. The Guatemalan case, like those of Chile and Argentina, was brought
under the universal jurisdiction statute and alleged genocide, terrorism, and
torture, especially against Mayan groups. Although the local courts initially
approved the extradition request, in December 2007 the Guatemalan Consti-
tutional Court ruled that it would not recognize Spanish jurisdiction over the
defendants. However, a Guatemalan judge in April 2008 decided that on the
request of the Spanish judge, he would publicly hear witness testimony from
genocide survivors—the first time such testimony has been heard in a Guate-
malan court. The judge received death threats for his actions, a reminder of the
continuing difficulties in bringing any kind of prosecution in Guatemala.
In addition, if the domestic legal system is too closed to outside influences

or the government is less susceptible to outside pressure, transnational pros-
ecutions will have no effect or even create a backlash—as in, arguably, the
Belgian and German investigations of Ariel Sharon or of U.S. officials’ actions
in Iraq.12 Thus, such prosecutions aimed at officials of powerful states may be
legally ineffective, although they may, nonetheless, have a political impact.
There is undeniably a tension between national and transnational pros-
ecutions as well: to the extent the transnational prosecution is based explicitly
or implicitly on the foreign forum being a “court of last resort,” as space is
opened for domestic efforts—in part due to this catalytic effect of transnational
investigations—it becomes less tenable to argue that trial at home is impos-
sible. Those bringing the cases must also take care to create relations based
on cooperation, information sharing, and complementarity (rather than com-
petition for funds or media access) and craft cases that will avoid problems of
duplication of effort or lead to a court finding that the case is already being
adjudicated elsewhere. In cases of widespread or massive violations, this is not
hard to do.
In civil law systems, transnational cases have taken the form of criminal
prosecutions, in large part because under many civil law systems victims can
participate to one degree or another in the criminal proceedings and can obtain
damages in the same proceeding once there has been a finding of criminal
guilt. In common law systems like the United States and the United Kingdom,
they have largely taken the form of civil suits for damages. In the United States,
these suits have been brought under the Alien Tort Claims Act (or Alien Tort
Statute) and the Torture Victims Protection Act against individual defendants
present in the United States.13 Seventeen cases between 1982 and 2003 have
resulted in multimillion-dollar judgments, which have rarely been collected.
Nonetheless, the cases have allowed for official acknowledgment of wrong-
doing, discouraged potential defendants from visiting the United States and
encouraged others to leave, and helped open conversations at home regarding
the need for justice.
Regional human rights commissions and courts constitute another poten-
tially potent source of pressure from above. In the Americas, especially, the
Inter-American Commission and Court have played key roles in setting out
the parameters of what states can do—and not do—in the areas of truth tell-
ing, justice, and reparations.14 (The African system, which is more recent, has
not played a major role in this area, nor has the European Court of Human
Rights, which has not until very recently dealt effectively with situations of
widespread or systematic crimes in places like Chechnya.) The commission’s
rulings in the late 1990s finding blanket amnesty laws to contravene the Amer-
ican Convention on Human Rights, along with the court’s 2001 Barrios Altos
case, were widely credited with not only spurring Peru to annul its challenged
amnesty law to conform to the court’s ruling but with influencing domestic
courts and legislatures in several countries to limit or annul their own laws.15
In cases before the Inter-American Court, the state has been found liable after
a hearing and ordered to pay reparations to complainants; in other cases, the
commission has negotiated a friendly settlement, with parallel results. In a

few such cases, continued pressure from the Inter-American Commission and
Court contributed to pushing forward domestic prosecutions, for example, in
the Myrna Mack case in Guatemala.16
Though undoubtedly a positive force in the Americas, the regional human
rights system can also create tensions with national efforts to remedy the after-
math of the same events. The most evident tensions have arisen around repara-
tions. The regional systems award reparations on a compensatory damages tort
model, that is, one based on putting the victim back into the position he or she
would have been in before the violation. The courts award damages for mate-
rial losses, lost earnings, moral damages, and damage to the “project of life,” as
well as costs and fees. In an individual case, damage awards tend to run to the
hundreds of thousands of dollars. When this model is applied to massive vio-
lations such as massacres, however, it becomes problematic. A clear example
comes from the Plan de Sánchez case in Guatemala. In 1982, 268 people in
the village of Plan de Sánchez were massacred by army troops and their civil-
ian collaborators. The survivors, after getting nowhere in the domestic legal
system, brought their case to the Inter-American Commission, which eventu-
ally referred it to the court. The court ordered the government to pay $25,000
for each of 236 victims and survivors, for a total of $7.9 million, in addition to
providing services to the community, a public apology, and other acts.
Although it represents a victory for human rights and fulfillment of an
obligation to the victims, money can be highly divisive for families and com-
munities. The sheer size of the amounts, and the disparities among similarly
situated victims it has engendered, has created problems. Individuals and com-
munities have been woefully unprepared to receive a lump sum of this size:
some have been threatened or robbed, and others have spent the compensation
money but their living situations have remained precarious. At the same time,
the Inter-American reparations created false expectations about the potential
scope of national reparations, which are smaller by nearly an order of magni-
tude, and questions about the equity in similarly situated massacre survivors
receiving very different sums. Many of these problems are common to other
mass disaster or mass tort scenarios and are insoluble to some degree. Perhaps
the best that can be done is to urge both regional commissions and courts, and
the local communities they benefit, to plan ahead for both potential difficul-
ties and for the potential for long-term local development engendered by the
awards.17
These international and transnational processes have enriched and com-
plicated the arsenal of tools available to strategic peacebuilders. Even if national
governments decide on a blanket amnesty, for instance, they cannot control the
possibility of transnational or international prosecutions that are not bound
by their national efforts. Even given the wide range of such tools, they will be
insufficient to deal with more than a few cases. Whether these are emblem-
atic (for example, against leaders and organizers) or opportunistic (as when a
potential defendant travels abroad), they still will not deal in more than general
terms with the circumstances and life experiences of most survivors. Given
the physical location and procedural demands of the courts involved, they will
suffer from remoteness and be difficult for ordinary people to access. For this
reason, national and international, regional or transnational efforts will be
most effective if complemented by local-level efforts. I turn now to the shape
of those efforts.
Adding in the Local
Until recently, lawyers working in the area of post–armed conflict justice have
treated countries as undifferentiated wholes. This has its uses in terms of estab-
lishing global norms and creating a national (re)founding mythology;18 certain
kinds of tasks can only be carried out on a uniform basis, by a national state.
By themselves, these do not capture the ground-level meaning of the conflict
for people living in specific local spaces, whose experiences may vary widely.
For many people, local power relations affect their lives, and efforts based in
a faraway capital may not penetrate sufficiently to matter, especially given the
perennial weakness of the central state.
Thus, strategic peacebuilders should look at independent local initiatives
as an integral part of their work, incorporating bottom-up local efforts as well as
top-down state or internationally driven ones. Such local efforts often precede
formal national programs, and they can also follow on or extend such pro-
grams, making them more locally relevant. They are particularly important to
begin to change conflict-created local power dynamics and may also more eas-
ily allow for ownership by survivors and be less prone to large-scale patronage
and corruption. At the very least, national and international initiatives should
strive to be aware of (and not to undermine) local processes.
One good example comes from the operation of a truth commission (TC).
Such commissions necessarily suffer from a series of limitations: they must
choose exemplary and illustrative cases, not everyone’s story can be told, and
places where patterns are repeated over and over may get especially short shrift.
The hardest hit communities may not even have survivors in a position to give
testimony. Thus, in cases of massive violations, a TC report, no matter how well
researched, will provide only a general, not a personal “truth” to many.
Even at its best, a TC is only a snapshot and cannot capture longer term
processes of memory formation over time. TC researchers will also confront
widespread distrust and various kinds of “gaming” behavior from people who
may have been deeply traumatized or who have learned to be wary of outsid-
ers promising help. A one-time opportunity to give testimony (whether public
or private) cannot substitute for long-term work to rehabilitate survivors. For
these things, longer term, local processes are needed.
The same is true of both national and international justice systems. Even
before the years of armed conflict, most poor, rural, dwellers in post–armed
conflict states viewed national justice systems as at best irrelevant and at worst
an incarnation of the discrimination and oppression to which they have long
been (and are) subject. As a recent report put it:
In many countries, the law is drafted and administered only in the

national language, which many poor people may be unable to speak
or read. . . . Courts may be far away, under-funded, and take years
to decide cases. Bringing a case to court swiftly may require bribes.
Judicial procedures may be inaccessible for those who lack legal
representation, which is generally too expensive for the poor.19
It is unrealistic to expect even the best set of anti-impunity and judicial

reform measures to reverse the centuries of warranted distrust of formal legal
systems.
Moreover, it is hard to see how formal justice systems, either criminal or
civil, can adequately grapple with the ambiguities, mixed motives, and shades
of gray that characterize most armed conflicts. Criminal law categorizes sub-
jects as perpetrator, accomplice, or innocent witness.20 It does not deal well
with bystanders,21 and even less well with the kinds of forced complicity that
are common to recent conflicts. In many places, forced recruits are forced to
commit atrocities, often against their own family and neighbors, in an attempt
to loosen them from community bonds. Children are forced to kill their par-
ents; villagers are forced by military or paramilitary forces to kill other villagers
or be victims themselves. These events continue to divide and traumatize com-
munities years later. They characterize many recent armed conflicts.22
In the postwar period, conflicts within and between communities con-
tinue, exacerbated by the newly exalted position of some ex-militia or paramili-
tary members as compared to the almost uniform destitution of their victims.
Demobilization, disarmament, and reintegration programs that provide
money and training for victimizers but nothing for those who survived them
can exacerbate these differences. In addition, regions vary greatly in composi-
tion: in some, people never left, whereas others include returning or resettling
refugees whose presence creates tensions with existing residents. Sometimes,
returning refugees find others in their homes and lands.23 In some communi-
ties, everyone is a massacre survivor. In others, local power is held by ex-militia
members, and in others new political forces have emerged. Fear of continued
violence contributes to silence about the past, sometimes even within fami-
lies, and manifests in myriad types of social dysfunctionality, from lynchings to
domestic violence to somatic illnesses. This degree of variation and complexity
makes international and national responses inadequate and, to some degree,
locally irrelevant, and requires further exploration of local responses.
What could such responses look like? For one thing, they would involve
communities directly in truth seeking and memorialization exercises in their
own region. The church-supported Recuperation of Historical Memory project
in Guatemala pioneered the incorporation of laypersons into testimony tak-
ing in their local area.24 Thus, community mapping of violations and result-
ant harms, and local museums and memorialization projects, would become a
cornerstone of post–armed conflict efforts. Such efforts could easily be linked
to national TCs or other truth-seeking exercises; the creation of regional offices
or meetings with communities to prepare and present testimony to a TC would
then be seen not as the culminating moment but as the beginning of a longer
term local process. Such documentation and memorialization exercises could
include an accounting of not only the costs and victims of armed conflict but
also of local traditions and history—and their disruption and change—creating
awareness and pride in the ability to survive rather than a sense of perpetual
victimization.
Community-supported exhumations and reburials would be another
key response. In most cultures, the link between the living and the dead is
important, and it is widely disrupted in situations where people are forcibly
disappeared or where they are killed and family members are prohibited or
intimidated in recovering and burying the body with appropriate ritual. Exhu-
mations are important to local communities and also nationally for purposes
of providing evidence in criminal investigations. It is important that the second
of these goals not eclipse the first.25 Local community participation in sup-
porting forensic anthropology teams, carrying out reburials with the requisite
ceremonies and markers, and designing and implementing memorials have
proven powerful tools. But they also raise or resurface powerful emotions and
memories, and community-based psychosocial interventions are often needed
to help communities recover. Because both sides abandoned the civilian popu-
lation during war, trust is hard to come by among survivors; for psychosocial
interventions to work, they must be rooted in a long-term relationship and
intimate knowledge of cultural practices, which can vary widely within a single
country. These interventions are thus often most fruitful when carried out on
a local or regional scale.
The biggest questions arise around the uses and abuses of local justice
mechanisms. The availability and applicability of local, informal, or traditional
justice systems has become highly contested over the past few years, not least
because of a number of actual or proposed uses in the wake of armed con-
flicts in Africa. These systems are seen as integral to a process of local com-
munity rebuilding. They allow for justice practices to resonate with the local
culture and be accessible and meaningful to people. They can foster a sense
of ownership of the process, and can integrate restorative justice mechanisms
including public truth telling, acknowledgment and apology, moral and mate-
rial reparations, along with, if appropriate, culturally relevant punishment or
atonement. They can allow for ex-neighbors to find a way to coexist and can be
a first step toward reintegration of families, clans, and all manner of interme-
diate social structures that mediate between the individual and the national
polity.
Thus, the water rituals of Mozambique and Sierra Leone cleansed the child
soldiers of their crimes and reincorporated them into their communities with a
cool, nonviolent heart.26 In northern Uganda, the Acholi carry out a ceremony
called mato oput, or drinking the bitter herb, which involves recognition of a
wrong and reconciliation with the victims’ family. A separate ceremony, involv-
ing stepping on an egg, is used to cleanse those who have been away from
home and allow them to return.27 In East Timor, the Truth, Reception and Rec-
onciliation Commission organized community reconciliation processes that
incorporated traditional adat dispute resolution, including a public airing of

facts, apology and/or reparation, and acceptance of responsibility, in exchange
for conditional amnesty for low-level offenders.28 In Peru, local communities
found ways first to dehumanize and then rehumanize those who had joined
Sendero Luminoso through public reincorporation ceremonies involving truth
telling, apology, and symbolic punishment.29 In Cambodia, religious as well as
local civic authorities staged ceremonies to welcome back Khmer Rouge sol-
diers who laid down their arms in the 1980s.30 These techniques involve deci-
sion making by respected elders after hearing from community members on
both sides of an issue.31
The Rwandan experience shows some of the difficulties involved in chang-
ing the nature of these mechanisms from bottom-up to centrally organized
government efforts. Postgenocide, the Rwandan government, faced with over
130,000 mid- and lower-ranked genocide suspects32 and a rudimentary justice
system, chose to adapt the traditional mechanism by creating local-level open-
air hearings at which suspects are accused and defended by their neighbors
and sentences, ranging from community service to prison, are imposed by a
group of lay judges. In response to criticisms that the procedures violated due
process norms regarding the presumption of innocence and privilege against
self-incrimination, the government added in legal advisors, appeal procedures,
and other features that substantially modified the process but did not fully
assuage these concerns.
Despite undeniable potential advantages, it is important not to romanti-
cize traditional justice systems. Such systems were generally designed to deal
with property and family-related disputes and not with serious (i.e., homicidal)
crime. They thus may not be suitable for complex cases involving issues of
command and indirect responsibility and victims from many communities
and traditions. They can be patriarchal and exclusionary toward women and
minorities, and can be coercive, creating pressures on individuals to subsume
their own needs into those of the “community.” They may assume a degree of
community knowledge and cohesion that, if it ever existed at all, certainly does
not exist in dispersed and reshuffled communities from which many original
inhabitants have fled to the cities or left the country altogether. Indeed, this has
been one of the problems with the modified gacaca proceedings in Rwanda,
which have suffered from a lack of participation. For this reason, they may be
less applicable (if at all) in urban areas or the displaced persons camps where
many conflict-affected people now subsist. They generally rely on a high degree
of case-by-case discretion that can easily become arbitrary.
Finally, they may not be appropriate where conflicts were more “vertical”—
involving state agents attacking civilian populations—and less “horizontal,”
involving neighbors and people of approximately the same socioeconomic level
fighting each other and then having to somehow live together in the post–
armed conflict era. They may be seriously lacking in basic protections against
cruel and inhuman punishment and in due process protections. They may
serve impunity where those who continue to exercise power at the local level
are the same people who committed the violations in the first place.
From a human rights perspective, such local proceedings raise two sets of
concerns. First, human rights advocates question whether a process that does
not involve some kind of punishment is adequate. Here there are differing
views within the human rights community, but some commonalities: there
must be at a minimum some kind of acknowledgment and truth telling, and
some reparation of the victim. Many (but not all) traditional ceremonies and
reintegration practices centrally include one or both of these elements. Second,
due process issues arise in cases involving in naming and punishing someone
as a murderer or genocidaire when they have no access to a lawyer and usually
no right of appeal. Tim Longman argues that there are functional equivalents
in traditional practices like gacaca to many of the techniques by which human
rights law guarantees fundamental rights in formal trials, including the ability
of all community members to see and hear the discussion, present evidence,
and raise questions.33 Nonetheless, it is not clear whether these are sufficient
to garner popular legitimacy.
Largely in response to human rights concerns (and pressure from interna-
tional human rights nongovernmental organizations), governments in Rwanda
and East Timor modified the traditional procedures to formalize them and
connect them to the formal justice system. This quelled some of the concern
around due process violations but raised the question of whether these kinds
of spontaneous, culturally specific local dialogue and reincorporation and com-
memoration ceremonies lose their value if “programmed” or even encouraged
by governments or international actors. After all, part of the strength of such
initiatives is that they are insider-driven and a product of local initiative. In
other words, the kinds of local initiatives that seem to work best do so without
any formalization in Western systems of aid and consultation, much less in
legal commitments, and may be so place- and time-specific that the attempt
to formalize them may backfire, leaving communities with the worst of both
worlds.
Conclusions
Just as the different parts of the transitional or post–armed conflict justice

agenda are interdependent, so are the different levels or scales on which they
are carried out. Truth telling without justice or reparation leaves victims feeling
defrauded; reparations without truth and acknowledgment is liable to be seen
as blood money, buying silence. Justice alone, narrowly defined as criminal
justice or retributive justice, is similarly partial: without some more fulsome
process for those who, because resources or will are lacking or because they
were bystanders or coerced, will never be tried, local power will never shift, nor
will community reintegration be possible. Nor can an overall historical narra-
tive, tracing patterns and causes of armed conflict and setting out recommen-
dations for the future, arise solely from individual prosecutions or civil trials.
Yet without some public, legally sound punishment for at least the leaders and
organizers, victims remain unsatisfied and unable to fully participate in the
new dispensation,34 even in cases where reparation has been paid and TCs have
been instituted.
A similar set of interdependencies applies to the local, national, and inter-
national scales. National efforts at justice may need international aid and financ-
ing, and may benefit from the catalytic effect that international or transnational
prosecutions may provide. International or internationalized courts may play
a constructive role when national court systems are in disrepair or unable to
function, but without a clear conduit and plan for engaging and eventually turn-
ing over cases to national systems, international courts may have little effect
on national audiences or legal cultures and may thus play a limited role in
conflict transformation. Formal justice, whether national or international, will
always only be concerned with a small number of people. For the rest, includ-
ing unindicted perpetrators, coerced victim/perpetrators, and bystanders, there
is a need for both national truth telling and for local acknowledgment, memo-
rialization, community mapping, reparations, and reincorporation processes.
The local by itself is insufficient: state-building and construction of a credible,
accessible legal system cannot be simply disaggregated locally, left to disparate
and shifting local custom. It plays an important complementary role. Similarly,
there is no reason why international prosecutions for the few ringleaders can-
not coexist with a much larger, richer effort based at the community level and
rooted in customary practices. Indeed, that may, at least in some cultural and
political contexts, be the truest meaning of complementarity.
NOTES
1. See International Council on Human Rights Policy, Peace Agreements and

Human Rights (2006), available at http://www.ichrp.org/public/projects.php?id_
projet=27&lang=AN.
2. See Naomi Roht-Arriaza. 2006. “The New Landscape of Transitional Justice,”
in Transitional Justice in the Twenty-First Century, edited by Naomi Roht-Arriaza and
Javier Mariezcurrena. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 1–16.
3. John Paul Lederach. 2003. The Little Book of Conflict Transformation. New York:
Good Books, p. 52.
4. Laurel Fletcher and Harvey Weinstein. 2002. “Violence and Social Repair:
Rethinking the Contribution of Justice to Reconciliation.” Human Rights Quarterly
vol. 24 (no. 3): 573–639.
5. On the specific legal requirements regarding amnesties, see my background
paper prepared for Peace Agreements and Human Rights, supra note 1. See also
Report of Diane Orentlicher, independent expert to update the set of principles to
combat impunity—Updated Set of Principles for the Protection and Promotion of
Human Rights through Action to Combat Impunity, U.N. Doc. E/CN.4/2005/102/Add.1,
Feb. 8, 2005 (Orentlicher Principles) and Basic Principles and Guidelines on the Right
to a Remedy and Reparation for Victims of Gross Violations of International Human
Rights Law and Serious Violations of Humanitarian Law (Van Boven/Bassiouni
Principles), G.A. Res. 60/147 (Dec. 16, 2005).
6. For one careful study of the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda, see Eric Stover
and Harvey Weinstein, eds. 2004. My Neighbor, My Enemy. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
7. This is not to argue that survivors are uninterested in seeing the army high
command and others of that ilk brought to justice, simply that doing so may be
insufficient for many people. It is also true that prosecution of only subordinate
officials, even if providing a face to survivors, may result in scapegoating those who
are less responsible.
8. Victoria Sanford. 2003. Buried Secrets: Truth and Human Rights in Guatemala.
New York: Palgrave Macmillan, p. 269.
9. For a full description of this process, see Naomi Roht-Arriaza. 2005. The
Pinochet Effect: Transnational Justice in the Age of Human Rights. Philadelphia:
University of Pennsylvania Press.
10. Kathryn Sikkink, and Carrie Walling. 2006. “Argentina’s Contribution to
Global Trends in Transitional Justice.” In Transitional Justice in the Twenty-First Century:
Beyond Truth vs. Justice, edited by N. Roht-Arriaza and J. Mariezcurrena. Cambridge:
11. Reed Brody. 2006. “The Prosecution of Hissene Habré: International
Accountability, National Impunity.” In Transitional Justice in the Twenty-First Century:
12. For a description of the Belgian cases against Ariel Sharon and against U.S.
officials, see Naomi Roht-Arriaza. 2005. The Pinochet Effect: Transnational Justice in
the Age of Human Rights. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, ch. 7. For a
description of the German case against Donald Rumsfeld et al., see www.ccr-ny.org.
13. Other cases have involved suits against corporations for directly engaging in
and/or aiding and abetting others to carry out violations, and suits against U.S. officials
for violating international law. See Sandra Coliver, Jennie Green, and Paul Hoffman.
2005. “Holding Human Rights Violators Accountable by Using International Law in
U.S. Courts: Advocacy Efforts and Complementary Strategies.” Emory International
Law Review vol. 19 (no. 1): 169–226.
14. The Inter-American Commission on Human Rights is charged with
monitoring human rights practice in Organization of American States member states
and making recommendations to states for improvement. The Inter-American Court
of Human Rights can hear cases arising in states that have accepted its jurisdiction
and can issue binding judgments, including injunctions and damage awards.
15. Chumbipuma Aguirre et al. v. Peru. 2001. Inter-American Court of Human
Rights.
16. Myrna Mack v. Guatemala. 2003. Inter-American Court of Human Rights.
This case resulted in monetary reparations, a public apology, and other moral
reparations awarded by the court; after much pushing from the petitioner and various
forms of international pressure, the Supreme Court upheld the domestic courts’
conviction of the main intellectual authors of the crime in 2004.
17. On the connection between peacebuilding and economic reconstruction, see
Nicholas Sambanis’s chapter in this volume.
18. See Richard Wilson. 2001. The Politics of Truth and Reconciliation in South
Africa: Legitimizing the Post-Apartheid State. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
19. Commission on Legal Empowerment of the Poor. 2008. Making the Law Work
for Everyone. New York: UN Development Programme, p. 33.
20. For a discussion of the way criminal law creates a bright line between
victims and wrongdoers, see Mark Osiel. 1997. Mass Atrocity, Collective Memory and
the Law. Ardsley, N.Y.: Transaction, p. 129. Much of the discussion of the blurred line
between victims and perpetrators has taken place in the context of forcibly recruited
child soldiers, who were often forced to commit atrocities against their own family or
neighbors. See Diane Amann. 2001. “Calling Children to Account: The Proposal for
a Juvenile Chamber in the Special Court for Sierra Leone.” Pepperdine Law Review
vol. 29.
21. See Laurel Fletcher. 2005. “From Indifference to Engagement: Bystanders and
International Criminal Justice.” Michigan Journal of International Law vol. 26.
22. See, e.g., Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Sierra
Leone, or the plight of children kidnapped by the Lord’s Resistance Army in northern
Uganda.
23. For a description of one such community, see Beatriz Manz. 2004. Paradise
in Ashes: A Guatemalan Journey of Courage, Terror & Hope. Berkeley: University of
California Press.
24. Recuperation of Historical Memory Project, Guatemala Nunca Mas. 1998.
25. See Eric Stover and Rachel Shigekane. 2004. “Exhumation of Mass Graves:
Balancing Legal and Humanitarian Needs.” In My Neighbor, My Enemy, edited by
E. Stover and H. Weinstein. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
26. Alcinda Honwana. 2004. “Child Soldiers: Community Healing and Rituals
in Mozambique and Angola.” In International Perspectives on Youth, Conflict and
Development, edited by C. Daiute, Z. Beykont, C. Higson-Smith, and L. Nucci.
New York: Oxford University Press, pp. 225–244. Rosalind Shaw. 2003. “Remembering
to Forget: Unmaking War for Child Ex-Comatants in Northern Sierra Leone.” Uppsala:
Nordic Africa Institute. For an account of similar experiences in Uganda with the
reintegration of Lord’s Resistance Army fighters, see Marc Lacey. 2005. “Atrocity
Victims in Uganda Choose to Forgive.” New York Times, April 18.
27. Refugee Law Project. 2005. “Peace First, Justice Later : Traditional Justice in
Northern Uganda,” p. 24, 34.
28. Patrick Burgess. 2006. “East Timor’s Community Reconciliation Process:
A New Tool for Reconciliation?” In Transitional Justice in the Twenty-First Century:
29. Kimberly Theidon. 2006. “Justice in Transition: The Micropolitics of
Reconciliation in Postwar Peru.” Journal of Conflict Resolution vol. 50: 1.
30. Jens Iverson. 2005. “Center Stage: The Contributions of Non-State Actors to
Accountability and Reconciliation in Cambodia (unpublished paper on file with author).”
31. Lars Waldorf. 2006. “Mass Justice for Mass Atrocity: Rethinking Local Justice
as Transitional Justice.” Temple Law Review vol. 79.
32. The International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda has only tried, and only
intends to try, 100 or so of the top leaders of the genocide.
33. Timothy Longman. 2006. “Justice at the Grassroots? Gacaca Trials in
Rwanda.” In Transitional Justice in the Twenty-First Century: Beyond Truth vs. Justice,
edited by N. Roht-Arriaza and J. Mariezcurrena. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, ch. 8.
34. Public opinion studies in several Latin American countries as well as Iraq
and Uganda have consistently shown a demand for justice, understood as a trial, to be
a central demand of many victims. See International Center for Transitional Justice
and U.C. Human Rights Center. 2005. “Forgotten Voices: A Population-Based Survey
on Attitudes about Peace and Justice in Northern Uganda.” International Center for
Transitional Justice and U.C. International Center for Transitional Justice and U.C.
Human Rights Center. 2004. “Iraqi Voices.”
10
Economic Globalization and
Strategic Peacebuilding
Jackie Smith
In numerous countries where peace agreements have held without

a relapse into conflict beyond the critical period, the structural fac-
tors lying at the source of the original conflict remain unaddressed
and continue to fester. From Cambodia and Guatemala to East Timor,
serious issues related to land tenure, property rights, rule of law,
political participation and transitional justice continue to pose
serious challenges to peace consolidation and peacebuilding.
—Neclâ Tschirgi, “Post-Conflict Peacebuilding
Revisited: Achievements, Limitations,
Challenges”
The post–Cold War era has been marked by a proliferation of persist-

ent intrastate conflicts, many of which have frustrated international
attempts to promote peaceful conflict resolution and the emergence
of more peaceful societies. By many measures, international peace-
building operations have achieved only mixed success or have simply
failed, and nearly half of all “postconflict” countries see a return of
violent struggle.1 This chapter argues that an important reason for
the failure of multilateral peacebuilding interventions is that these
initiatives incorporate a set of assumptions about the benefits of
market liberalization that are inaccurate. More effective intervention
to end violent conflicts requires efforts to better understand how
economic globalization impacts the dynamics of civil wars. Contem-
porary violent conflicts are not purely localized phenomena but
are deeply embedded within a global context of complex political
and economic relationships. Strategic peacebuilding cannot occur
without greater attention to these relationships and how they reproduce power
and inequality in the global political and economic systems.
Recent studies on the impacts of multilateral peacebuilding initiatives
have concluded that these interventions have, on the whole, not been terribly
successful at helping societies transition from states of civil war to long-term,
sustainable peace.2 Two important recent studies of peacebuilding operations—
those by Collier and colleagues and Paris3—conclude that future interventions
must subordinate market liberalization policies to those that strengthen the
capacities of institutions to manage societal conflicts. Paris, for instance, calls
his proposed strategy “institutionalization before liberalization.” I argue that
these studies do not go far enough in their prescriptions because they cling to
two important assumptions. First, they treat market liberalization and political
liberalization, or “market democracy,” as inherently linked and complementary
processes, both of which are seen as essential to peacebuilding work. Second,
they see economic liberalization as a central element of peacebuilding, even
while they argue for its more gradual introduction in postconflict settings.
Although there may indeed be relationships between economic liberalization
and the conditions that foster peace, and open markets might be associated
with more open political systems, there is considerable debate among social
scientists about the nature of these relationships. Market liberalization can pro-
ceed in highly authoritarian contexts, and highly democratic countries may in
fact limit their participation in global markets in response to democratic pres-
sures. Moreover, existing analyses show that economic liberalization can in fact
undermine efforts to rebuild social institutions and foster political liberalization
in war-torn societies.4 This chapter interrogates some key assumptions behind
contemporary peacebuilding operations and the proposals to strengthen them,
exploring whether the conventional wisdom about the relationship of market
liberalization to peacebuilding processes is consistent with existing evidence.
What becomes apparent in this analysis is that much research in the area
of peacebuilding fails to adequately address questions of power and its distribu-
tion.5 Sidelining power questions can often serve on a practical level to expedite
cease-fire agreements and on an analytical level to generate more parsimonious
models of conflict dynamics. But asymmetries of power can mask structural
sources of conflicts that can resurface over time. Therefore, by failing to address
power imbalances, conflict analysts and practitioners seeking to reduce violent
conflict will fail to identify effective peacebuilding strategies. “Strategic peace-
building” should imply, therefore, a central focus on questions of how power
is distributed among conflicting parties along with intervention strategies that
seek to reduce the inequities in power that can lead to violent conflict.
Globalization has meant an increasing concentration of political and
economic power at the global level.6 Because of this, strategic peacebuilding
should also adopt a perspective that embeds the local within a broader social
and political context. As global integration expands along numerous dimen-
sions, it becomes even more important that conflict analysts adopt a systemic
framework. Contemporary states are embedded within complex sets of eco-
nomic and political relationships, as are an array of other transnational actors,
ECONOMIC GLOBALIZATION AND STRATEGIC PEACEBUILDING 249
such as transnational corporations and civil society groups. Conflicts within

states are often reflections of these broader sets of ties, and indeed these
apparently localized conflicts depend on resource flows that extend well beyond
national borders.7 Andrew Hurrell describes a “triple anchorage of states” in
the international system of states, the global capitalist economy, and transna-
tional civil society.8 These webs of interdependence shape conflicts within as
well as between states, and effective interventions to end violent conflicts must
account for these relationships between local and global contexts.
Peacebuilding missions have been described as “transmission mecha-
nisms” of neoliberal models of the state.9 Paris argues that far from being tech-
nical and neutral exercises in conflict management, multilateral peacebuilding
operations advance liberal market democracy as the preferred model for domes-
tic governance, advancing a “world revolution of Western liberalism.”10 They
do so by (1) encouraging parties to include political and economic liberalization
measures in peace agreements, (2) providing technical assistance in constitu-
tion writing and other governance tasks, (3) imposing political and economic
conditionalities on parties in exchange for financial and other assistance, and
(4) performing governance functions in transitional or failed state contexts.11
Significantly, this transfer of governance templates is from the rich, North-
ern core of the global economy to the comparatively poor, Southern, and post-
colonial periphery. Peacebuilding itself reflects a long history of inequality in
the world system, and it incorporates various forms of power—including struc-
tural, institutional, and symbolic power—that remain largely unexamined in
existing literature. Robinson demonstrates, for instance, how peacekeeping
operations in Nicaragua and Haiti were used to reorganize government prac-
tices to make them conform to the needs of globalizing capitalist interests.12
Thus, peacekeeping can be seen as one mechanism for the development of
what Robinson calls the “neoliberal state,” or the transformation of national
states into entities that support the trade liberalization agenda of globalized
capital.13 In this sense, peacekeeping operations are a part of the “revolution
from above,” that helped expand the global economy in recent decades.14 Stra-
tegic peacebuilding approaches, therefore, require a critical analysis of how
power is reflected and reproduced in the operation of peace intervention mis-
sions. They also demand greater attention to the assumptions behind these
missions and their objectives.
A critical look at peacekeeping and peacebuilding operations suggests that
they are designed largely to protect if not promote the interests of the North-
ern core states that enjoy privileged influence in global institutional contexts.
Peacebuilding interventions—like other international initiatives, such as global
trade agreements and multilateral development lending—have helped repro-
duce neoliberal economic policies. Unlike global trade and financial institu-
tions, however, peacebuilding missions advocate economic liberalization not
as an end in itself but as a (presumed) means of promoting economic growth
that will reduce violent conflict. However, relatively little empirical research has
been done to critically examine the assumption that economic liberalization
will actually contribute to peacebuilding aims.
Also integral to the models of governance favored by market liberaliza-

tion proponents are policies that reduce state regulatory capacities and expand
incentives and opportunities for international investment. By reducing the
capacities of states to define and defend public goods and by limiting the policy
space available for democratic decision making, such practices may obstruct
efforts to build stronger institutions and foster democracy in postwar states.
Given these possible tensions between the practices of peacebuilding missions
and the needs of societies emerging from violent conflicts, I examine four key
assumptions in peacebuilding research and practice: first, that market liberali-
zation leads to economic growth; second, that growth will solve the underlying
problem of inequality that gives rise to conflicts; third, that a neoliberal model
of the state will be effective at promoting peace; and finally, that multilateral
peace and security can be improved without addressing fundamental inequi-
ties in the global economic order.
Market Liberalization and Growth
In their important World Bank–sponsored study of contemporary internal con-

flicts, Collier and colleagues conclude that the “key root cause of conflict is the
failure of economic development.”15 Societies plagued with internal violence
are very often those mired in poverty. Thus, a key strategy for breaking what
Collier et al. call the “conflict trap” is to promote market liberalization, expand-
ing the country’s access to world markets as a means of promoting economic
growth. But will market liberalization generate the growth needed to transform
war-torn societies?
Debates about the effects of trade liberalization and economic growth
yield conflicting results, but the bulk of new work that is emerging suggests
that initial optimism about trade liberalization’s prospects were substantially
overstated.16 For instance, the World Bank recently reduced its projections of
global gains from trade liberalization by nearly two-thirds, from $832 billion to
$287 billion. The projected benefits to the developing countries were reduced
by more than 80 percent, from $539 billion to $90 billion.17 The UN Develop-
ment Programme (UNDP) Human Development Report, moreover, states that
“the evidence to support the proposition that import liberalization is automati-
cally good for growth is weak.”18 The analysis of trade offered in the UNDP
report suggests that although trade liberalization might indeed be associated
with growth in some countries at some times, there is no direct link between
economic liberalization and growth. Other variables are important for explain-
ing when liberalization helps generate growth and when it cannot.19 There is
no automatic relationship between the two. Thus, despite two decades of radi-
cal economic liberalization policies and a doubling of world exports since the
early 1990s, we still see a “persistent pool of non-developing low-income coun-
tries” that threatens world peace and stability.20
Another pattern that emerges from data on global trends in imports and
exports suggests that the benefits of trade for poor countries are not at all
comparable to the benefits experienced by rich countries. This should lead us

to seriously question trade liberalization as an effective prescription for help-
ing poor countries emerge from conflict traps. While developing countries are
devoting substantially more of their national resources and energies to pro-
moting exports, they have not achieved substantial gains in terms of global
market shares.21 For instance, despite a growth in exports between 40–55 per-
cent, African countries’ share of world markets grew by just 0.3 percent in the
1990s. India’s share of world trade went up just 0.7 percent despite average
annual growth of 10 percent during the 1990s.22 This type of economic growth
will only contribute to ever-growing inequalities between countries as well as
within them.23 If one considers the environmental and social costs associated
with developing countries’ increased participation in world markets, there is
little overall benefit from trade in terms of expanding the resources available to
most of the population in these regions.
More disturbing, however, is that the higher income developing countries
are finding that growth from trade is not readily sustained. Weisbrot and Bello
found that economic growth rates in Latin America were markedly higher
before the era of neoliberal reforms than they were after countries opened their
borders.24 Many successful globalizers are finding their place in the highly
stratified global production system slipping. Thus, countries like Mexico and
Brazil are losing high value-added manufacturing jobs to Korea and China,
and India’s high-tech sector is losing ground to lower paying industries, such
as textiles and apparel.25 The terms of trade for developing countries have
been declining over time, and recent measures place overall developing coun-
try declines at 0.74 percent. This pattern holds even for the larger developing
countries, such as India, whose terms of trade declined by 1.62 percent; and
Brazil, which dropped 0.18 percent.26 This record shows that economic poli-
cies designed to encourage foreign investment do not necessarily produce the
economic growth expected by neoliberal policy analysts. Whereas economic
growth—that is, expanding the resource pie for all residents of countries
destroyed by war—is clearly vital to peace, there is sufficient evidence to war-
rant a search for strategies that do not rely on wealth trickling down to local
communities from foreign investors and through export-based production
and trade (see chapter 6). Because sustained peacebuilding work depends on
a stable and predictable social and economic environment, policies that link
conflict-torn countries to a volatile and uncertain global economy are—as is
becoming increasingly apparent—fraught with trouble.
Critics of neoliberal policies often charge proponents of economic liberali-
zation with engaging in what has been called “NAFTA math”—that is, reporting
the economic gains from trade while neglecting to account for the associated
costs, such as job losses, environmental destruction, and vulnerability to inter-
national markets. For instance, Public Citizen pointed out that the U.S. Trade
Representative’s (USTR) reports on the job gains from the North American Free
Trade Agreement (NAFTA) showed only those jobs created in export industries.
The USTR forgot to subtract those jobs lost in industries that were eclipsed
by competition from new flows of imports. NAFTA math is rampant in many
official accounts of trade’s benefits,27 and those concerned with finding appro-
priate policy mechanisms to address the problems of violent conflict and fragile
states should be careful to note these inflated assessments of trade benefits. A
“responsibility to protect” people in war-torn countries seems to require a far
more vigorous search for better strategies to advance economic development
and to ensure a more equitable distribution of wealth in war-torn countries.
Wise and Gallagher and Weisbrot and colleagues note how trade pro-
ponents overlook important costs that liberalization imposes on poor coun-
tries.28 They examine the costs to developing countries of trade liberalization
policies in terms of lost tax revenues from tariffs. They conclude that deve-
loping countries would lose more than $60 billion in tariff revenue under
the nonagricultural market access agreement within the World Trade Organ-
ization, around ten times the projected gains from trade liberalization. In
countries where as much as 40 percent of government revenues come from
tariffs, this cost is substantial, to say the least. It also will limit the capacities
of poor governments to operate in the best of conditions, and thus we might
rethink whether such policies are desirable for governments emerging from
internal wars.
In sum, the evidence linking trade openness to economic growth are
mixed, and there is no direct link between expanding a country’s access to
world markets and growing the economic pie that can help win over combat-
ants and promote sustainable peace. Moreover, the experiences of the global
North countries in the area of trade liberalization are poor predictors of the
likely effects of trade on poor countries. The evidence shows consistently that
the global South has enjoyed fewer and less consistent benefits from trade lib-
eralization than their richer, early industrializing counterparts. Thus, Collier
and colleagues are right to conclude that priority must be given to policies that
promote peace over those that promote economic growth through markets. But
we might ask whether the World Bank prescriptions are generating the kind
of economic growth that can really lead to long-term peace. The mounting evi-
dence that policies for economic liberalization are not generating the intended
growth effects might go quite a ways toward explaining the shortcomings of
peacebuilding operations.
Globalization’s critics—whose ranks are gaining ever-larger numbers of
policy elites—have developed elaborate analyses and feasible policy prescrip-
tions aimed at remedying the shortfalls of neoliberal economic models.29 The
essence of these approaches is a focus on production for local needs, local own-
ership, participation, and control, and attention to environmental and social
contexts. These types of strategies can be part of efforts to quickly restore pub-
lic services and generate economic returns that Sambanis (chapter 6) found
so essential to successful peacebuilding. They have an advantage of helping
increase the direct stakes all citizens would have in postwar peace agreements.
Although growth and service restoration may take a bit longer, the process of
engaging local communities and providing even limited resources to encour-
age local engagement and entrepreneurship helps build confidence and mobi-
lizes local skills and energy in the peacebuilding process.
Economic Liberalization and Inequality
Collier and colleagues found that the countries at greatest risk of civil war also
experienced high levels of inequality.30 However, none of the study’s numerous
recommendations for improving peacebuilding work addresses this specific
problem. Instead, there is an implicit assumption that the problem of inequal-
ity will be solved by policies that foster economic growth. This may be a valid
assumption, but given that inequality is strongly linked to the escalation of
conflicts, it bears greater scrutiny than the Collier study gives it. This section
examines the question of whether and how economic liberalization affects pat-
terns of inequality.
Economic orthodoxy links poverty reduction to economic growth. The
conventional economic wisdom says that “a rising tide lifts all boats,” that a
growing economic pie will enrich all of society, and that the benefits of growth
will “trickle down” to generate other social benefits such as poverty reduction,
environmental improvements, and the like. Thus, if economic liberalization
generates growth, and growth helps reduce inequality, then economic liber-
alization is a good policy prescription for war-torn societies. But if economic
liberalization does not generate more equitable distributions of wealth, and
especially if it exacerbates inequality, then policy makers and analysts must
seriously rethink its role in postwar contexts.
How has global economic liberalization impacted inequality in the world?
Although it is difficult to identify the specific causal variables, we have consid-
erable evidence showing that economic globalization has had either no direct
effect on inequality or that it may be contributing to rising inequality within and
between countries. The UNDP recently reported that “for a majority of countries
[economic] globalization is a story of divergence and marginalization.”31 Glo-
bal inequality has grown over recent decades of economic globalization, and
now the richest 10 percent of the world population controls more than half the
world’s income, whereas the bottom 40 percent enjoy just 5 percent of world
income.32 This inequality is even greater when measures of wealth are used in
place of income. The UNDP data show that inequality in the global South is
on the rise, and in turn, this is slowing economic growth and curbing efforts
at poverty reduction. The report argues—along with many social scientists
and economists—that inequality is a challenge to the international commu-
nity, because it not only impedes market efficiency and economic growth but
also undermines democracy and social cohesion—the very conditions that are
required to reduce the likelihood that social conflicts will escalate into violent
confrontations.
The 2005 Human Development Report paints a far gloomier picture of
economic globalization than had many previous official documents. But the
evidence is consistent with findings of scholars and other critics of trade lib-
eralization as a policy panacea. Clearly the problem of persistent poverty
and underdevelopment is less a function of scarce resources—indeed, the
world is far richer by many material measures than it was in prior decades or
centuries—than of the unequal distribution of those resources.33 In the previ-

ous section, I highlighted evidence showing that the benefits of trade were not
equally distributed among the world’s countries, and that the poorest coun-
tries and regions were gaining less than rich ones. This inequality in shares
of world trade is reproduced in other measures of economic inequality. For
instance, sociologists have found a consistent trend toward rising inequality
within countries as well as between them.34 This growing gap between the rich
and poor in the world, moreover, corresponds to the timing of neoliberal pol-
icy initiatives, which were first launched in the mid-1980s and disseminated
through means such as international trade agreements and structural adjust-
ment lending programs of the World Bank and the International Monetary
Fund (IMF). The UNDP (2005) reports a current measure of world inequality,
the Gini coefficient, of 0.67.35 This coefficient reflects a highly unequal global
system with levels of inequality higher than those of the most unequal (and
unstable) countries of the world.36
Although rising inequality is associated with the timing of global economic
liberalization, we should not automatically assume a causal relationship,
because a wide range of variables clearly affect global economic distributions.
What can we say about whether and how economic globalization might be
affecting inequality? The New Economics Foundation examined the extent to
which the economic growth linked to neoliberal policies benefited the poor-
est segments of national populations. Their conclusions correspond with the
UNDP report, and they go further to argue that the 1980s and 1990s generated
“antipoor” growth: a very small and declining percentage of the world’s eco-
nomic growth went to those groups in greatest need. People living on less than
$1/day received just around 2 percent of the benefits from economic growth in
the 1980s, and this declined to less than 1 percent by 2000. Those people living
on $2/day enjoyed about 5.5 percent of the growth in the early 1980s, and this
share declined to just 3.1 percent by 2000.37 Thus, just as the benefits of trade
liberalization were reduced for poor countries, the benefits of economic growth
are small and diminishing for poor people. The declines come as economic
liberalization policies have expanded.
Does this association between economic globalization and rising inequality
suggest a causal connection? We need theoretical work to show whether there
is reason to think that economic liberalization is implicated in persistent and
rising inequality. Sociologists identify labor market dynamics as an important
part of this puzzle, and both empirical and theoretical work here shows that
global economic integration has been systematically undermining the power
of working people relative to the owners of capital.38 A major reason for this is
that the policies pursued by the global financial institutions have pressed for
the opening of national borders to flows of goods and services while allowing
countries to close their borders to flows of people. This creates market distor-
tions in the supply and demand of labor that artificially suppresses costs while
also curtailing the possibilities for working people to benefit from expanding
trade relationships. This has meant dramatic declines in rates of unionization
around the world and enhanced vulnerability of workers to job losses directly
linked to import/export sectors. In the United States, for instance, three-

quarters of those workers losing their jobs due to trade-related competition
reentered the labor market at lower wages than they previously earned.39
Workers in the United States are comparatively powerful politically, so these
losses are likely to be far greater in countries of the global South.
Weak labor rights mean more than just a reduction in the benefits from
economic liberalization that accrue to the poorest segments of the population.
They also mean that a disproportionate share of the costs of liberalization is
borne by the poorest people in society.40 Rather than helping benefit the world’s
poorest people, the policies of economic liberalization tend to exacerbate the
hardships faced by those most in need. Do the relatively poor, whose ranks
may be growing due to rising global inequality, have a stake in a system that
promotes expanded economic liberalization without specific efforts to remedy
inequality? This is an important question for peacebuilding proponents to ask,
because groups that are excluded from economic rewards can more readily
be mobilized into violent opposition movements. Thus, Paris’s analysis of
postconflict peace agreements concludes that more must be done to prioritize
efforts to address the problem of inequality over the implementation of tradi-
tional market liberalization policies.41
Not only do inequality and the systematic reduction in the political power
of working people undermine the prospects for stable peace agreements, but
contemporary inequality also helps fuel wars. Collier and his colleagues argue
that the ability of combatants in civil wars to field armies is enhanced under
conditions of high unemployment. Both theory and empirical studies of the
effects of economic liberalization show that unemployment is at least a tem-
porary consequence, as losses in globally “uncompetitive” industries are made
up by new growth in exports. But experience to date suggests that the losses in
employment outweigh employment gains in newly emerging sectors, at least in
the short and medium terms.42 If societies at peace have trouble adapting their
employment sectors to the needs of the global economy, then those plagued
with internal conflict will have far greater difficulty developing policies to pro-
mote high employment when they must open their markets to compete with
foreign imports. The employment disruptions caused by market liberalization
may in themselves help prolong (rather than curtail) civil wars.
The persistence and especially the increases of inequality in the global sys-
tem are serious threats to both localized peacebuilding efforts and global peace.43
They are threats because they undermine the legitimacy and authority of exist-
ing institutions. As Hurrell argues, hierarchical modes of governance cost in
terms of both legitimacy and efficiency, and the conflicts we are seeing in the
world since the end of the Cold War are likely reflections of this legitimacy crisis.
More must be done to address this crisis and tackle the problem of inequality to
provide the “political prerequisites for meaningful global moral community.”44
Thus, it would seem that policies aiming explicitly to enlarge the share of
world and national income going to poor households would be far more effec-
tive at reducing poverty than are growth-oriented policies, which treat poverty
reduction as a by-product of growth. This would require that peacebuilding
initiatives integrate distribution effects into their policy designs.45 This is obvi-
ously more difficult in the short run, because it requires fundamental trans-
formation of power relations, but it is essential for both the aim of economic
development and for sustainable peacebuilding. As the UNDP concludes in
regard to Guatemala:
No export growth strategy in Guatemala is likely to produce substan-
tive benefits for human development without deep structural reforms
to reduce inequalities and extend opportunity through the redistribu-
tion of land and other productive assets, increased public spending
for the poor and targeted programmes aimed at breaking down the
barriers facing indigenous people. Such measures will ultimately
require a change in the distribution of political power in Guatemala.46
Ultimately, strategic peacebuilding must be about the redistribution of power
(and resources) in society. Walton and Seddon concluded from their study of
protests in global South countries against the austerity measures imposed by
global financial institutions that these protests reflected a trend toward growing
pressure for democratic reforms against the neoliberal, “‘bourgeois’ form of
democracy [that is] more concerned with free trade than individual freedoms,
more attentive to property than human rights, and downright skeptical about
the social progress promised by earlier developmental states in contrast to the
economic progress now promised by the market.”47 In short, the persistent
inequality in today’s world means that large numbers of people lack a stake in
the current system. The prevention of violence on the part of those denied the
benefits of globalization will require either new efforts to include marginalized
groups in social and economic life or even higher levels of coercion to repress
dissent. There is little evidence that proposals to expand economic liberaliza-
tion without deliberate and robust efforts to address the unequal distribution
of resources and opportunities will generate lasting peace.
Peace and the Neoliberal State
Effective states are seen as crucial to sustaining peace agreements at the local
level as well as to maintaining regional and global peace and security.48 At the
same time, peacebuilding prescriptions emphasizing economic liberalization
may be undermining the ability of war-torn societies to reestablish capable and
effective national states. Economic globalization has encouraged governments
to adopt policies to promote international trade and investment. One way they
have done this is through attaching conditionalities to international loans
issued by the World Bank and IMF requiring policy changes favoring inter-
national investment and trade. Many of these policies are also integrated into
postwar peacebuilding agreements as well, often as prerequisites for obtaining
international assistance.
These conditionalities—known as “structural adjustment policies”49—vary,
but their key requirements include reductions in public spending, privatization
of public assets, government support for export industries, guarantees for inter-
national investors, and the elimination of domestic wage and price controls.50
By “structurally adjusting” borrowing states, the policies effectively help trans-
form national states into what Robinson calls “neoliberal states,” whose domes-
tic markets are more fully integrated into the global economy.51 In practice,
what these policies do is reduce the capacities and governing role of the state
while expanding the influence of international investors and global markets in
the society.52 They also shift power away from representative institutions, work-
ers, and consumers and toward international investors and export industries.53
A growing body of research questions the effectiveness of structural adjust-
ment policies for promoting economic growth and other benefits.54 Summariz-
ing this research, Paris concludes:
Twenty years after the advent of structural adjustment, the quarrel
over [the influence of these programs on economic growth and levels
of distributional inequality] remains largely unresolved; Neither the
IMF nor the World Bank has been able to demonstrate convincingly
that structural-adjustment programs promote economic growth, and
the precise relationship between these programs and levels of poverty
and distributional inequality is still hotly contested.55
Even more important, the policies promoted by multilateral financial institu-
tions may in fact be contributing to human rights violations, thereby protracting
conflicts while also undermining possibilities for economic growth. Abouharb
and Cingranelli, for instance, analyzed the effects of international financial
policies on human rights practices. They found that the structural adjustment
policies advanced by the World Bank were associated with higher levels of vio-
lations of physical integrity rights, including freedoms from torture, political
imprisonment, extrajudicial killing, and arbitrary disappearances.56
Despite this dubious record, structural adjustment policies continue to be
integrated into international lending agreements and peace agreements, either
through multilateral institutions or through bilateral pressures from the coun-
tries that are primary sources of official aid and private investment.57 These prac-
tices are counterproductive to peacebuilding work, because—in addition to their
association with increased rights violations—they limit the policy space available
to governments that must prioritize building or rebuilding democratic institu-
tions and expanding popular commitments to peace agreements. Rather than
emphasizing these important goals, structural adjustment policies prioritize the
expansion of foreign investment and market liberalization. The effects of these
policies on democratic institution-building are seen as secondary to the aim of
expanding market liberalization as a means of enhancing economic growth.
A critical look at these policies suggests that effective peacebuilding work may
require a fundamentally different approach to structuring national institutions.
Kaldor and Luckham’s analysis of post–Cold War conflicts identifies a
generalized phenomenon that they argue is “almost the reverse of state and
nation-building.”58 They see the practices associated with economic globaliza-
tion as contributing to the delegitimation of public authority that is fueling the
escalation and proliferation of “new wars.” They conclude that the only effective
way to resist these new wars is to engage in systematic efforts to democratize
politics and restore legitimate political authority. Whereas Sambanis (chap-
ter 6) calls for caution in this regard, the point that locals must have a stake
in the economic choices that will define postwar development remains valid.
International intervention can be designed to maintain a larger range of choice
and control for the people in countries recovering from war, thereby creating
incentives for locals to engage in peacebuilding processes. This prescription,
however, is fundamentally different from that promoted by conventional peace-
building interventions, which encourage the pursuit of economic growth as
the main prerequisite to peace. Neoliberal states that are characterized by very
limited policy space, reduced capacity to regulate social actors, and policy pro-
grams encouraging profit seeking over other social aims are unlikely to build
public authority and reverse this trend.
Typical peacebuilding prescriptions reduce the range of policy choices
available in postconflict states, thereby obstructing efforts to build legitimate
democratic institutions. Most states in the global South—whether or not they
have experienced internal wars—have been forced to negotiate limits to their
national sovereignty in return for international financing.59 Countries that bor-
row money from the World Bank or IMF and undergo other international inter-
ventions (such as internationally enforced peace agreements) are not free to
determine what economic programs they pursue. Rather than being subject to
democratic mechanisms of deliberation and public accountability, major eco-
nomic decisions are often left to elites or to technical experts acting outside of
public scrutiny.60 Although such policies may seem logical from the perspective
of professional economists, they effectively depoliticize decisions at the heart
of most societies—those affecting the fundamental organization of economic
life and the distribution and use of societal resources. Thus, some of the most
important decisions that govern any society are effectively withdrawn from the
public sphere. This constraining of the effective policy space undermines the
abilities of postwar societies to win the loyalties and confidence of citizens. This
is true even where there are successful steps toward elections and other steps of
democratization. A democratic state that lacks authority and capacity to shape
decisions that affect people’s lives is an oxymoron.
In addition to limited space for economic policy deliberation, neoliberal
states are also characterized by reduced capacities for regulating economic
and other activities within their borders. Peter Evans refers to this model of
the modern state as the “lean, mean state,” because it emphasizes coercive
capacities necessary for the protection of private property and promotion of
social stability over social welfare. This reduction in state capacities comes at a
time when we find an unprecedented concentration of wealth and power in the
hands of private entities, such as transnational corporations and transnational
criminal networks. This latter development necessitates greater capacity for
effective state governance on behalf of societal interests.
The studies of Collier and colleagues and Paris, however, show that effec-
tive attempts to end civil wars require strong domestic institutions that are
capable of pursuing multifaceted policy programs. These states must win the
loyalties of diverse and often conflicting social groups, and they must there-
fore be able to make parties feel they have real stakes in the strengthening
and perpetuation of government institutions. At the same time, they must be
able to regulate private actors that can disrupt peace or otherwise contribute to
the exclusion of social groups. States whose primary purpose is seen to be the
promotion of markets and profit-seeking activities are unlikely to be effective
at limiting the business activities of groups perpetuating violent conflicts. The
reduction of state capacities for affecting the distribution of resources contrib-
utes to a concentration of resources in the hands of small numbers of people
who remain beyond the control of weakened states. These weaknesses of states
contribute to the dynamics of the conflict trap discussed by Collier et al.61 Lean,
mean, neoliberal states are thus unlikely to be able to effectively govern the
practices of transnational actors, even when this is vital to the maintenance of
peace. Nor are they likely to obtain legitimate authority necessary for reversing
the trend seen by Kaldor and Luckham.
Another way that peacebuilding policies constrain possibilities for states
in postwar settings to escape from conflict traps is by privileging programs
that emphasize profit seeking over other social aims. The key assumption behind
neoliberal policies is that markets free of government intervention allow actors
to engage in the free pursuit of profit that is expected to enhance overall eco-
nomic well-being. But Collier et al. associate the pursuit of profit among groups
engaged in civil wars with the perpetuation of these conflicts.62 Although the
conflicts themselves may not be grounded in explicit economic ambitions, as
warring parties organize themselves to amass the resources needed to wage
protracted conflict, they tend to become increasingly committed to profit-seeking
activities during the course of armed struggles. These profit-seeking practices
themselves often depend on the maintenance of armed conflict or at least the
absence of effective governance institutions. Thus, the dynamics of wars inter-
act with the incentive structures encouraged by neoliberal economic policies to
reinforce conflict traps.
In sum, most analysts of conflict argue that effective peacebuilding work
involves the construction of institutions that enjoy widespread legitimacy. Such
institutions must be democratic and effective at implementing popular prefer-
ences and curbing abuses of power. But the privileging of neoliberal models of
the modern state undermines both the legitimacy and political effectiveness of
states. This is particularly problematic in societies emerging from armed con-
flict, where postwar institutions must expand the stakes of all actors in the new
government and high levels of inequality often require strong state capacities
for economic regulation and redistribution.
Peacebuilding and Global Governance
A final assumption inherent in predominant models of postconflict peacebuild-

ing is that multilateral peace and security can be improved without addressing
fundamental inequities in the global economic order. Whereas analysts have

rightly identified the ways local and national armed struggles can threaten
regional and global peace, the solutions offered typically fail to confront the
ways that inequality in the global political order may be fueling more local-
ized conflicts. Moreover, peacebuilding interventions that force warring parties
to adopt market liberalization policies may be helping perpetuate rather than
reduce violent conflict.
Peace agreements encourage postwar states to become more integrated
into a competitive global capitalist economy. As Paris warns, “capitalism . . .
is inherently competitive. It inevitably creates winners and losers, which can
fuel social unrest.”63 Both Paris and Collier et al. argue for more cautious liber-
alization of postwar states, even as they maintain that integration into the glo-
bal capitalist economy is an effective strategy for societies emerging from civil
wars. But if capitalism itself “inevitably creates winners and losers,” thereby
fueling social unrest, is the promotion of globalized capitalism an effective
strategy for promoting local or global peace and security?
Although globalized capitalism has helped promote economic growth and
new technological innovations, the ability of capitalist markets to maximize
human well-being over the long run has come under growing scrutiny. Indeed,
the prescriptions of Paris and Collier et al. demonstrate that global markets are
not sufficient for generating peace, and I have argued that global markets can
undermine the achievement of other conditions that are necessary for peace.
Collier and colleagues, for instance, argue that new systems of international
governance are needed to manage international trade in natural resources so
that warring parties cannot use illicit trade to finance wars. They also argue that
poor states need global management of commodity prices to ensure the effec-
tive and stable governance of their countries. They see a need for greater global
social solidarity to enhance the flows of aid from rich to poor countries. Paris
also emphasizes nonmarket policies aimed at fostering democratic cultures
and empowering civil society. The policy prescriptions in these studies place
primary emphasis on making changes in the governance of countries marred
by civil wars, rather than in the international system itself.
A systemwide approach to addressing local and national conflicts, how-
ever, would lead us to question the extent to which the predominant, market-
oriented approaches to peace agreements are likely to support long-term peace
and security. Can the international community impose models of economic
governance on societies emerging from violent conflict and expect them to
build effective and inclusive democratic institutions? Can peaceful national
and global societies exist within a global order that emphasizes economic com-
petition and individual profit maximization?
These questions are vital, I think, for addressing the problem of violence in
contemporary societies. Most conventional approaches to international peace-
building and conflict intervention neglect them. If the global economic and
political order is fueling conflicts at local and national levels, then national
or local strategies will not, on their own, end the violence. Problems must be
addressed at the level at which they originate, and thus strategic peacebuilders
must ask the tough questions about how the global system is implicated in
more localized struggles.
The UNDP Human Development Report argues that policies promoting
social inclusion are necessary if we are to see a reduction in violence in con-
temporary societies.64 As was stated earlier, the global capitalist system empha-
sizes economic competition, which necessarily excludes those without access
to financial and material resources. Social exclusion is a major effect of the
global neoliberal order. Thus, we must ask whether policies that enhance coun-
tries’ participation in global capitalist markets should be as central a part of the
solution to violent conflict as predominant discussions make them.
The privileging of globalized markets in the international policy discourse
is also the result of highly unequal arrangements in the global political order.
The ideologies guiding global neoliberalism and the dissemination of market
liberalization policies emerged from the rich countries of the global North, and
they were aided by the support of elites in the global South. But poor countries
and people had little role in shaping this policy agenda, and the policies of the
World Bank and IMF have served to erode the national sovereignty of borrow-
ing states in favor of donor countries.65 Thus, the policy agenda of market liber-
alization is not one that emerges from a democratic foundation of deliberation
among sovereign equals; rather, it reflects long-standing patterns of global
domination and subordination. It is unlikely, then, that this policy approach
can be a foundation for a stable and democratic peace.
The place of market liberalization in the international community’s hier-
archy of policy priorities also reflects major inequities in the global system that
threaten long-term global peace and security. The international system is rife
with contradictory policies and practices, and one of the most glaring is the ten-
sion between the international financial institutions and the UN Charter. The
UN was designed to prevent wars and promote conditions that are conducive
to international peace. The World Bank, IMF, and World Trade Organization,
in contrast, are part of the Bretton Woods system that aimed to expand global
trade and international investment. Although the Bretton Woods system was
to fall initially within the jurisdiction of the UN system, in practice the global
financial institutions operate independently of the UN. Their policies, moreo-
ver, are increasingly seen as being at odds with UN principles of equity, human
rights, and environmental sustainability.66
Over recent decades, the U.S. government and other key proponents of
globalized capitalism have worked to systematically reduce the role of the
United Nations in global affairs while making the global financial institutions
more influential.67 The major effect of this policy has been to advance neo-
liberal agendas through largely coercive measures while subordinating other
policy objectives to that of expanding global markets. As a result, a comparison
of global policy arenas reveals major contradictions among policy aims, out-
comes, and norms. For instance, market-oriented policies encourage economic
growth, expanding consumption, and participation based on financial means.
In contrast, environmental preservation policies emphasize the limits of the
natural environment and the precautionary principle. Human rights policies
emphasize equality, human needs, and universal rights of participation based

on shared humanity. The subordination of the UN to the global financial insti-
tutions has meant a prioritization of markets over sustainability and human
rights. These institutional contradictions complicate efforts to promote sus-
tainable peace at local or global levels.
Not only do institutional arrangements make it difficult to guarantee that
policies promoting equity and sustainability gain at least equal footing with
those promoting economic growth, they also are likely to complicate efforts to
build democratic cultures that are conducive to peace. An international system
that prioritizes markets and economic growth and places the aim of profit seek-
ing over other social objectives contributes to social exclusion and complicates
governance at all levels. Thus, policies that seek to restrain economic com-
petition in favor of political or environmental security face important politi-
cal hurdles. Global neoliberalism has fostered an ideology of competition and
“market fundamentalism” that—despite losing some of its luster in recent
years—works against efforts to foster democratic civil society and promote a
global culture of solidarity and human rights.68
In sum, creating a global economic context that prevents combatants from
exploiting natural resources to finance civil wars, provides poor country gov-
ernments with predictable and stable sources of income, and reduces (rather
than exacerbates) inequalities of wealth and income requires fundamentally
different approaches to peacebuilding than those emphasized in most main-
stream policy discourse. To reverse the escalation of internal conflicts and to
foster stable and long-term peace, the international community must confront
fundamental inequalities in the global system itself that are contributing to
conflicts at local, national, and regional levels.
Conclusion
Strategic peacebuilding requires an analytical framework that considers how

local actors are embedded within broader economic and political relationships
that extend beyond the national to regional and global levels. Although much
intervention must take place at the level where violent conflict is experienced
most directly, the analyses of the causes of civil wars and their perpetuation
show that work must be done beyond local and national levels to address the
causes of violence. A global system that privileges markets and opposes state
intervention in economies also provides fertile ground for illicit trade that can
help finance civil wars. Policies that contribute to rising inequalities at global
and national levels fuel grievances that can be used to mobilize groups against
one another. An undemocratic global political order is unlikely to foster the
values and cultural practices that will support democracy at other levels.
Major studies of international interventions in civil wars have concluded
that market liberalization policies can undermine peace strategies. Never-
theless, these studies continue to support the overall policy of market liber-
alization. I argue that we need to delink the peacebuilding agenda from the
neoliberal “globalization project,” which emphasizes economic growth and the

globalization of markets at the expense of other policy objectives.69 Although
economic growth can expand resources available for peacebuilding, it is more
important for policy makers in postconflict settings to actively work to reduce
inequality through redistributive policies. Though market liberalization might
encourage economic growth, the privileging of global over local and national
markets may not serve the development needs of most postwar societies. States
require greater policy-making autonomy and capacity for action than they are
typically allowed in most peace agreements, trade agreements, and interna-
tional financial agreements.70 There must be greater coordination and coher-
ence in international policy prescriptions across different governance sectors
to strengthen state capacities.
The 1980s and 1990s have seen a very rapid expansion of the global eco-
nomic order, and the global political system needs to catch up if we are to have
a global economy that serves the needs of people rather than corporations.71
Although there is widespread rhetorical support for the idea of democracy,
we lack global institutions that can effectively protect democracy at local and
national levels. As governments bring more policy concerns to intergovern-
mental bodies like the United Nations and World Trade Organization, they
effectively reduce democracy at the national level.72 Following the work of Karl
Polanyi, we might argue that we need to embed the global economy within a
global society that is guided by principles of equity, human rights, and environ-
mental sustainability.73 Such a society will require major changes to global insti-
tutions to provide mechanisms for democratic participation and accountability
comparable to those achieved in many national contexts. In short, democracy
at the national level will be increasingly reduced without steps to democratize
global political and economic institutions.
How might this be accomplished? One way is for peace intervention strate-
gies to be more explicit in actively supporting a “democratic globalization net-
work” that advances a more democratic global order.74 This network—which
is largely centered on civil society actors but also includes prodemocratic gov-
ernments and international officials—must be empowered to more effectively
counter the network of transnational corporations and political elites that have
systematically advanced their preferred model of neoliberal globalization. Peace
operations should serve to alter the relative balance of power between neolib-
eral and democratic agents. Currently they are reinforcing the already vastly
superior resources of neoliberals at the expense of democrats. The policies and
practices that enable democracy to flourish are not the same as—and, in fact,
are contradicted by—policies that advance globalized capitalism.75
Thus, peacebuilders must prioritize policies that strengthen norms and
practices conducive to democracy and human rights, rather than subordinat-
ing them to the needs of global markets. This would mean, for instance, that
policies aiming to reduce poverty should focus directly on putting resources
into the hands of poor people rather than on expanding economic growth in
the hopes that some new wealth will trickle down to those most in need. It
would also mean promoting policies that level the political playing field among
citizens to promote more inclusive debates and policies. By taking steps to

organize global society around the values of cooperation and social solidarity
rather than economic competition, the global community might help reduce
new incidences of violent conflict while helping war-torn societies escape the
conflict trap.
Scholars of peace initiatives have long argued for greater inclusion of civil
society groups and women into peace processes. These proposals have not
been effectively incorporated into existing peacebuilding efforts. I summarize
three major strategies that this analysis suggests might enhance the prospects
for enhancing civil society’s role in multilateral peacebuilding initiatives and
the development of more effective and democratic strategies for the resolution
of violent conflicts.76
First, leaders in movements and international institutions should support
the development of more inclusive peacebuilding networks of nonstate, govern-
mental, and intergovernmental actors working to promote peace, democracy,
and more equitable development.77 These should be deliberate efforts to build
alliances between international agencies and civil society actors committed to
core democratic and multilateralist norms, working together to engage both
states and private financial actors in the tasks of more democratic global govern-
ance. It is the relative imbalance of power between civil society and other actors
that contributes to conflict escalation and persistent violence. Thus, activities
of these multiactor networks should aim specifically to reduce the inequalities
of power between civil society actors, states, and the private sector and promote
democratic participation and accountability in governance.
Second, multiactor peacebuilding networks should focus in the near term
on efforts to democratize global institutions. An overwhelming majority of UN
member states favors a system that better reflects the interests of all its mem-
bers. Civil society groups would also benefit from a UN system that is more rep-
resentative of all the world’s governments. Finally, these reforms would enhance
the commitment to the UN system by countries and civil societies that have
been largely disenfranchised from global policy making. These changes require
focused efforts to bring together supportive governments and international offi-
cials and movement actors around a strategy for promoting UN and especially
Security Council reforms, including, for instance, those recommended by the
recent UN High Level Panel Report on Threats, Challenges and Change.
Third, peacebuilding networks must be more proactive in their efforts to
empower actors who have been marginalized by existing political and economic
structures. They must struggle to rein in the power of corporations in the glo-
bal polity so that states and civil society actors can exert more control over deci-
sions that affect their economic lives as well as their political choices. Serious
efforts are also needed to enhance democratic accountability and participation
within states. The recent report of the Panel of Eminent Persons on UN-Civil
Society Relations has some good recommendations around which policy mak-
ers and activists can mobilize, such as the call for a new Office of Constituency
Engagement and Partnerships with its own Under-Secretary General, a Civil
Society Unit, and an Elected Representatives Liaison Unit. The World Social
Forum process provides opportunities to make important connections among

civil society actors in different parts of the world as well as between civil soci-
ety and national and international officials. This process should be supported
financially and engaged with more seriously by national and international pol-
icy elites as a possible mechanism for advancing a more equitable, democratic,
and just global political order. Such a global order is an essential prerequisite to
peacebuilding everywhere.
NOTES
1. Paul Collier and others, Breaking the Conflict Trap: Civil War and Development
Policy (Washington, D.C.: World Bank and Oxford University Press, 2003). See also
Michael Doyle and Nicholas Sambanis, Making War and Building Peace: United Nations
Peace Operations (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2006); Stephen John
Stedman, ed., Ending Civil Wars: The Implementation of Peace Agreements (Boulder,
Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 2002).
2. Roland Paris, At War’s End: Building Peace after Civil Conflict (New York:
Cambridge University Press, 2004); Neclâ Tschirgi, “Post-Conflict Peacebuilding
Revisited: Achievements, Limitations, Challenges,” International Peace Academy
Policy Report (October 2004); Collier et al., Breaking the Conflict Trap.
3. Collier et al., Breaking the Conflict Trap; Paris, At War’s End.
4. See, e.g., Amy Chua, World on Fire: How Exporting Free Market Democracy
Breeds Ethnic Hatred and Global Instability (New York: Anchor Books, 2003); John
Markoff, Transnational Democracy in Critical and Comparative Perspective: Democracy’s
Range Reconsidered, ed. B. W. Morrison (London: Ashgate, forthcoming).
5. See, e.g., Michael Barnett and Raymond Duvall, “Power in Global Governance:
Introduction,” in Power in Global Governance, eds. M. Barnett and R. Duvall (New York:
Cambridge University Press, 2005), 1–32.
6. See, e.g., Markoff, Transnational Democracy; William Robinson, A Theory of
Global Capitalism (Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2004); Philip
McMichael, Development and Social Change: A Global Perspective, 3rd ed. (Thousand
Oaks, Calif.: Pine Forge, 2003); John Markoff, “Globalization and the Future of
Democracy,” Journal of World-Systems Research 5 (1999): 242–262, http://csf.colorado.
edu/wsystems/jwsr.html.
7. See, e.g., Neclâ Tschirgi, “Peacebuilding through Global Peace and Justice,”
Development 48 (2005): 50–56.
8. Andrew Hurrell, “Power, Institutions and the Production of Inequality,” in
Power in Global Governance, eds. M. Barnett and R. Duvall (New York: Cambridge
University Press, 2005), 33.
9. Roland Paris, “International Peacebuilding and the ‘Mission Civilisatrice,’”
Review of International Studies 28 (2002): 637–656.
10. Ibid., 638.
11. Ibid., 637–656.
12. William Robinson, Promoting Polyarchy: Globalization, U.S. Intervention and
Hegemony (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).
13. Neoliberalism refers to the idea-system favoring market liberalization and
rules for a globalized economy. See Robinson, A Theory of Global Capitalism.
14. Ibid.
15. Collier et al., Breaking the Conflict Trap, 53.
16. See, e.g., Kevin P. Gallagher, “The Demise of the Doha Round? Unpacking
Developing Country Resistance,” Review of International Political Economy
(forthcoming).
17. Timothy A. Wise and Kevin P. Gallagher, “Doha Round and Developing
Countries: Will the Doha Deal Do More Harm than Good?” Research and Information
System for Developing Countries, New Delhi, 2006.
18. UNDP, Human Development Report 2005: International Cooperation at a
Crossroads (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 119.
19. See, e.g., review in Roberto Patricio Korzeniewicz and William C. Smith,
“Protest and Collaboration: Transnational Civil Society Networks and the Politics of
Summitry and Free Trade in the Americas,” North-South Center, University of Miami,
2001.
21. Indeed, this is why international trade negotiations and the Doha
Development Round have stalled or collapsed.
22. UNDP, Human Development Report 2005, 117.
23. Roberto Patricio Korzeniewicz and Timothy Patrick Moran, “World Inequality
in the Twenty-First Century: Patterns and Tendencies” in The Blackwell Companion to
Globalization, ed. G. Ritzer (Oxford: Blackwell, 2006).
24. Mark Weisbrot, “Globalization on the Ropes,” Harpers (May 2000): 6; Walden
Bello, Dark Victory: The United States and Global Poverty (London: Pluto Press, 1999).
25. UNDP, Human Development Report 2005; Wise and Gallagher, “Doha Round
and Developing Countries.”
26. Wise and Gallagher, “Doha Round and Developing Countries.”
27. See, e.g., ibid.; Mark Weisbrot and others, “Poor Numbers: The Impact
of Trade Liberalization on World Poverty,” Center for Economic Policy Research,
Washington, D.C., 2004. See also Robin Broad, “Research, Knowledge & the Art of
‘Paradigm Maintenance’: The World Bank’s Development Economics Vice-Presidency
(DEC),” Review of International Political Economy 13 (2006): 387–419.
28. Wise and Gallagher, “Doha Round and Developing Countries”; Weisbrot
et al., “Poor Numbers.”
29. See, for instance, John Cavanagh and Jerry Mander, eds., Alternatives to
Economic Globalization: A Better World is Possible, 2nd ed. (San Francisco: Berrett-
Koehler, 2004); “New Principles and Rules to Build an Economic System that Works
for People and the Planet,” Civil society statement to the G20 Summit, November
2008, http://www.choike.org/bw2/#english2 (accessed November 22, 2008); David
Korten, The Great Turning: From Empire to Earth Community (San Francisco: Barrett-
Koehler, 2007). Joseph Stiglitz, “Towards a New Paradigm of Development,” in Making
Globalization Good: The Moral Challenges of Global Capitalism, ed. J. H. Dunning
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2003), 77–107.
32. Ibid., 4.
33. Amartya Sen, Inequality Reexamined (New York: Oxford University Press,
1995); Food and Agriculture Organization, The State of Food Insecurity in the World
2006: Eradicating World Hunger—Taking Stock Ten Years after the World Food Summit
(Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, 2006), http://www.
fao.org/icatalog/inter-e.htm (accessed April 3, 2007).
34. There is some debate as to whether between country inequality is rising or
stabilizing, and this emerges from the use of different economic measures. Studies
using exchange rates find rising inequality, while those using purchasing power parity
(PPP) find slowed or declining inequality at the world level. I agree with the contention
by Korzeniewicz and Moran in “Measuring World Income Inequalities” (American
Journal of Sociology 106 [2000]: 209–214) that exchange rate studies are more reliable,
given the measurement and aggregation errors associated with PPP. Salvatore J.
Babones and Jonathan H. Turner, “Global Inequality,” in Handbook of Social Problems,
ed. G. Ritzer (Oxford: Blackwell), 101–121; R. P. Korzeniewicz and Timothy P. Moran,
“World Economic Trends in the Distribution of Income, 1965–1992,” American Journal
of Sociology 102 (1997): 1000–1039; Roberto Patricio Korzeniewicz and Timothy Patrick
Moran, “World Inequality in the Twenty-First Century: Patterns and Tendencies,” in
The Blackwell Companion to Globalization, ed. G. Ritzer (Oxford: Blackwell, 2006).
35. The Gini coefficient is calculated by measuring the distribution of income
across a population. A coefficient of 0 is a perfectly equal society where each
proportion of the population controls a comparable proportion of the country’s income
(or wealth); a coefficient of 1 reflects a perfectly unequal society. The Gini coefficient
for one of the most equal societies, Sweden, is 0.25 and for one of the most unequal
societies, Brazil, is 0.59. The United States’ Gini coefficient is 0.41.
36. The Gini coefficient for Namibia is 0.71; Lesotho, 0.63; Botswana, 0.63;
Sierra Leone, 0.63; and the Central African Republic, 0.61. Compare with the United
States at 0.41 and Denmark at 0.25 (UNDP, Human Development Report 2005).
37. New Economics Foundation, “Growth Isn’t Working: The Unbalanced
Distribution of Benefits and Costs from Economic Growth,” New Economics
Foundation, London (2006), http://www.neweconomics.org/gen/uploads/
hrfu5w555mzd3f55m2vqwty502022006112929.pdf (accessed October 20, 2006).
38. Korzeniewicz and Moran, “World Inequality in the Twenty-First Century”;
Saskia Sassen, Globalization and its Discontents (New York: New Press, 1998).
40. See, e.g., Bello, Dark Victory; UNDP, Human Development Report 2005.
42. Wise and Gallagher, “Doha Round.” The fact that more of the labor force
today is comprised of internal or international migrants is also likely to affect the
social dislocations that impact prospects for violent mobilizations, because people
uprooted from home communities who later become unemployed may be particularly
vulnerable to recruitment efforts by militant groups.
43. Collier et al., Breaking the Conflict Trap.
44. Hurrell, “Power, Institutions and the Production of Inequality,” 55.
45. See, e.g., New Economics Foundation, “Growth Isn’t Working,” and Weisbrot
et al., “Poor Numbers.”
47. John Walton and David Seddon, Free Markets and Food Riots: The Politics of
Global Adjustment (Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 1994), 339.
48. Simon Chesterman, Michael Ignatieff, and Ramesh Thakur, Making States
Work: State Failure and the Crisis of Governance (Tokyo: United Nations University
Press, 2005); Collier et al., Breaking the Conflict Trap.
49. In response to protests against the global financial institutions, officials
have renamed structural adjustment policies to Poverty Reduction Strategy
Papers, or PRSPs. The content of the prescriptions in these agreements between
borrowing governments and the global financial institutions, however, remains
largely unchanged. Walden Bello, Deglobalization: New Ideas for Running the World
Economy (London: Zed Books, 2003). Also, the World Bank and the IMF have failed
to follow a requirement meant to prevent the problems associated with the earlier
structural adjustment programs, namely, that they include civil society groups in
the development and implementation of PRSPs. Robert O’Brien, “The International
Monetary Fund, The World Bank and Labour in Developing Countries,” manuscript,
McMaster University, Hamilton, Ontario; Peter Willetts, “Civil Society Networks
in Global Governance: Remedying the World Trade Organisation’s Deviance from
Global Norms,” in Colloquium on International Governance (Palais des Nations,
Geneva, 2002).
50. Robert O’Brien, “Workers and World Order: The Tentative Transformation
of the International Union Movement,” Review of International Studies 26 (2000):
533–555; Paris, At War’s End; and William Robinson, A Theory of Global Capitalism
(Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2004).
51. Robinson, A Theory of Global Capitalism.
52. Nancy Alexander, “Decentralization and Sovereignty: How Policy Space
is Eroded,” in Social Watch Report 2006: Impossible Architecture, edited by S. Watch
(Montevideo, Uruguay: Social Watch, 2006), 20–22.
53. O’Brien, “The International Monetary Fund.”
54. Joseph Stiglitz, Globalization and its Discontents (New York: Norton, 2003);
Weisbrot et al., “Poor Numbers.”
56. Rodwan M. Abouharb and David Cingranelli, “The Human Rights Effects
of World Bank Structural Adjustment,” International Studies Quarterly 50 (2006):
233–262.
57. Luke Eric Peterson, “Bilateral Investment Treaties and Development
Policy-Making.” Winnipeg: International Institute for Sustainable Development &
Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation, 2004.
58. Mary Kaldor and Robin Luckham, “Global Transformations and New
Conflicts,” IDS Bulletin 32 (2001).
59. Alexander, “Decentralization and Sovereignty.”
60. See William D. Coleman and Tony Porter, “International Institutions,
Globalization and Democracy: Assessing the Challenges,” Global Society 14 (2000):
377–398; Michael Goldman, Imperial Nature: The World Bank and Struggles for Social
Justice in the Age of Globalization (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2005);
John Markoff and Veronica Montecinos, “The Ubiquitous Rise of Economists,” Journal
of Public Policy 13 (1993): 37–68; and Stiglitz, Globalization and its Discontents.
61. Collier et al., Breaking the Conflict Trap.
62. Ibid., 79.
64. UNDP, Human Development Report 2005, chapter 5.
65. Alexander, “Decentralization and Sovereignty”; Hurrell, “Power, Institutions
and the Production of Inequality”; and Celine Tan, “Reclaiming Development:
Streamline the Bretton Woods Institutions,” in Social Watch Reports 2006:
Impossible Architecture, ed. S. Watch (Montevideo, Uruguay: Social Watch, 2006),
23–25.
66. Leslie Sklair, The Transnational Capitalist Class (Cambridge: Blackwell,
2001); Sigron Skogly, “Structural Adjustment and Development: Human Rights—An
Agenda for Change?” Human Rights Quarterly 15 (1993): 751; and Tan, “Reclaiming
Development.”
67. Jackie Smith, Global Visions, Rival Networks: Social Movements for Global
Democracy (Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008).
68. Seyla Benhabib, “On the Alleged Conflict between Democracy and
International Law,” Ethics and International Affairs 19 (2005): 85–100; Leslie Sklair,
Globalization and Its Alternatives (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002).
69. McMichael, Development and Social Change.
70. Gallagher, “The Demise of the Doha Round?”
71. Christopher Chase-Dunn, “Social Evolution and the Future of World Society,”
Journal of World Systems Research 11 (2006): 171–192.
72. See Markoff, Transnational Democracy; and Charles Tilly, “Globalization
Threatens Labor Rights,” International Labor and Working Class History 47 (1995): 1–23.
73. Korzeniewicz and Smith, “Protest and Collaboration.”
74. Smith, Global Visions, Rival Networks.
75. Tilly, “Globalization Threatens Labor Rights.”
76. For more detail, see Jackie Smith, “Social Movements and Multilateralism:
Moving from the 20th to 21st Century,” in Multilateralism under Challenge? Power,
International Order, and Structural Change, ed. E. Newman, S. Tharoor, and J. Tirman
(Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 2006), 395–421.
77. Korzeniewicz and Smith make a similar recommendation, referring to such
networks as “polycentric development coalitions.” (Roberto Patricio Korzeniewicz and
William C. Smith, “Poverty, Inequality, and Growth in Latin America: Searching for
the High Road to Globalization,” Latin American Research Review 35 [2000]: 7–54).
11
The Response Imperative
Tensions and Dilemmas of Humanitarian
Action and Strategic Peacebuilding
Larissa Fast
A typical scenario goes something like this: violence breaks out

between warring factions, people flee from their homes trying to escape
the violence, United Nations agencies and nongovernmental organiza-
tions (NGOs) bring in personnel and supplies to respond to the civilian
suffering that inevitably occurs, and diplomats and others work to
broker a cease-fire. Though not attempting to minimize the suffering
of the thousands of civilians around the world caught up in atroci-
ties and violence nor the difficulties of providing relief or negotiating
cease-fire or peace agreements, the contours of the typical story usually
hold. The explosion of civil conflict and violence in the post–Cold War
era and more engagement on the part of civil society and international
organizations in attempting to prevent, respond to, and transform
conflict has led to increasing attention on the roles and actors involved
in responding to conflict and violence or building peace.
The concept of strategic peacebuilding assumes a variety of roles
and actors to build peace. In chapter 1, Lederach and Appleby define
it as follows:
At its core, peacebuilding nurtures constructive human
relationships. To be relevant, it must do so at every level of
society and across the potentially polarizing lines of ethnic-
ity, class, religion, and race. . . . It focuses on transforming
inhumane social patterns, flawed structural conditions, and
open violent conflict that weaken the conditions necessary
for a flourishing human community.
They argue that peacebuilding extends across the cycle of conflict,
from prevention to transformation. In his earlier work, Lederach
proposes three levels of actors—grassroots, mid-range, and top leadership—

and suggests that peacebuilding crosses the horizontal boundaries of conflict
lines and links the vertical levels of actors. As such, it involves a variety of cor-
responding roles and activities. Furthermore, he asserts it is necessary to work
at multiple levels in the short-term, intermediate, and long-term horizons.1 Not
inconsistently, others define peacebuilding as encompassing poverty reduction,
humanitarian relief, disarmament, demobilization and reintegration programs
for ex-combatants, economic development projects, human rights monitoring
and advocacy, and everything in between.
If we take seriously the notion that strategic peacebuilding as a concept
requires multiple roles and actors—a web of individuals and institutions—
simultaneously and in a complementary fashion working to build peace in a
society, what exactly does this mean? How do we build webs and networks of
actors working for peace? What are the costs and opportunities of particular
roles? How should and do these various roles and actors work together? This
chapter explores several key dilemmas and tensions that arise in thinking about
humanitarian action as a smaller part of strategic peacebuilding in particular,
and ponders the larger question of the conceptual and practical messiness of
peacebuilding roles more generally.
Thinking about the relationship (or lack thereof) between humanitarian
action and strategic peacebuilding inevitably raises two linked but conceptually
separate debates. The first debate emerges out of the peacebuilding literature,
broadly defined, and revolves around third-party roles and functions in conflict
situations (e.g., the idea of multiple roles and actors in conflict intervention and
how they relate to each other). The second debate occurs within the humani-
tarian assistance and development literatures and examines the question of
integration—to what extent should humanitarian action be integrated into or
linked to processes designed in the short or long term to promote peace or
social change? These debates have occurred somewhat in isolation from each
other, yet both explore the dilemmas, tensions, and consequences inherent in
choices regarding roles and relationships.
On first glance, it appears that humanitarian assistance and building
peace have much in common. They both attempt to respond to and alleviate
the suffering of those caught up in violence. But perhaps this is where the
comparison does and should end. These responses are different—humanitar-
ian action is designed as a short-term, emergency response, whereas building
peace necessitates a longer time frame. Yet the question of how to intervene
when the violence rages and ravages communities caught up in destructive
conflict remains particularly vexing. Most who write about and define peace-
building emphasize that it needs to take place across the conflict cycle of pre-
vention, reaction, and rebuilding. While stocked and full in the prevention and
rebuilding phases, the conceptual cupboard is mostly bare when it comes to
the reaction phase.
The primary reactions of the international community to ongoing civil
strife and violence are to provide humanitarian aid and, where political will is
sufficient, intervene militarily. Other actions, such as diplomatic attempts to
THE RESPONSE IMPERATIVE 273
broker cease-fires, local action to protest or counter violence, or public naming

and shaming of human rights violations, also occur and are essential to build-
ing peace. Few responses, however, offer the immediate and public rewards of
aid workers (usually pictured as white foreigners in the media, even though the
vast majority of aid workers are national staff) weighing underweight babies as
part of a feeding program, dishing out food and water to refugees from the rear
of a large truck emblazoned with an agency logo, or compassionately bandaging
wounds in a makeshift clinic. The other public and immediate option is military
action, hopefully consistent with the more altruistic protective purposes of the
“responsibility to protect.”2 The ongoing violence in Darfur, Sudan, is a case in
point: the options have appeared as either providing humanitarian assistance or
reinforcing the African Union troops, who have been vastly outnumbered and
underequipped, with a more robust military presence. A UN peacekeeping force
began deploying in late 2007, but is still not yet fully operational. Humanitarian
assistance, all acknowledge, is simply a Band-Aid on an increasingly severe and
swelling wound. Its reach and effectiveness is compromised because of targeted
violence against and harassment of aid workers, despite the life-saving advances
they have made.3 Other options for responding to the immediate violence are few,
although it is yet unclear how a new U.S. president or the International Criminal
Court indictment of President Omar al-Bashir will change the situation. Do we
want to include humanitarian action within the realm of peacebuilding to be
able to claim that we are indeed doing something to respond to violence?
Implicit in the conceptualizations of strategic peacebuilding is the notion of
linkage and/or coordination of roles. The literature on third-party roles in conflict,
with some notable exceptions, outlines separate roles but not how to generate a
coherent and linked intervention strategy. Those that do write about integrated
peacebuilding paradigms assume an intrinsic value to coordination. This chapter
argues, perhaps somewhat provocatively, that humanitarian action should not be
included within the broader peacebuilding agenda. Putting aside the more com-
mon objections to integration—that peacebuilding is too political an endeavor for
humanitarians or that security is compromised when impartiality and neutrality
are compromised—this chapter maintains an objection to integration because
of the need to maintain a moral response to human suffering; that response is
humanitarian assistance. If we really want to build peace, we need to reserve
and protect space for humanitarian action, regardless of how these efforts may
or may not contribute to peacebuilding. Although humanitarian action should
be left outside the peacebuilding agenda, it can instead avoid “doing harm” and
contributing to conflict. In other words, humanitarian aid cannot build peace,
address the root causes of conflict, or transform the structures that contribute to
injustice and inequality, nor should it be held accountable to these standards.
Third-Party Roles in Conflict
The literature about third-party roles in conflict is growing and has evolved
from an emphasis on mediation and problem solving to an acknowledgment
and a more sophisticated understanding of the variety of roles necessary to

build peace. In the early years, much of the conflict intervention literature on
roles focused on that of the mediator and his or her corresponding responsibil-
ity to maintain neutrality and impartiality in the intervention. Codes of conduct
for mediators specified these in more detail. As late as 1994, the Academy of
Dispute Resolution “Model Standards of Mediator Conduct” describe media-
tion as a process in which a “neutral third party” facilitates an agreement. The
standards list impartiality as one of the rules for a mediator, stipulating that
he or she should disclose bias or prejudice.4 Likewise, the 1998 Academy of
Family Mediators lists both impartiality and neutrality as part of its standards
of practice.5
In contrast to much of the extant literature at the time, Laue and Cormick
suggest five roles for a conflict intervention: those of activist, advocate, media-
tor, researcher, and enforcer.6 The role(s) an intervener plays is dependent on
the base of support and his or her credibility with one or more parties. Further-
more, they argue that neutrality is not possible in any role, because either the
intervener is promoting a (positive) change process or acting on behalf of one
of the parties. Nor, they write, is neutrality ethically desirable. Instead, inter-
veners in community disputes must work for empowerment, justice, and free-
dom. Laue reiterates this assumption in a later article, stating “All intervention
alters the power configuration among the parties, thus all conflict intervention
is advocacy. There are no neutrals.”7 Advocacy, he posits, may be in terms of
the party (e.g., a lawyer advocating for a particular party), outcomes (e.g., for a
particular policy), or a process (e.g., the process used to reach an agreement).8
Similarly, Wehr and Lederach examine neutrality and the foundations of medi-
ator credibility and legitimacy. They challenge the cultural assumptions of the
“outsider-neutral” mediator role, which assumes that mediators have no existing
or future relationship with or connection to either of the parties. For outsider-
neutrals, precisely this lack of association forms the basis for the mediator’s
role in the conflict. They describe another model, that of an “insider-partial,”
whose legitimacy derives from existing and ongoing relationships based on
trust and connection.9
These and other challenges to the value of neutrality in mediation, in par-
ticular, paved the way for a more expanded conception of third-party roles in
conflict intervention. Mitchell, in analyzing a mediation process in Sudan, pro-
poses a typology of fourteen separate intermediary functions. For example, a
“convener” brings together the various stakeholders in a conflict, whereas a
“facilitator” assists the parties in communicating during and managing the
actual mediation process. In his analysis, he speculates about the need for a
“coordinator” that would link the various roles in a mediation process. He con-
cludes that some roles may preclude others because of timing issues or because
the functions are mutually exclusive.10
Ury similarly expands the notion of who can intervene in conflict, pro-
moting the idea of a “third side” in conflict situations. The third side moves
beyond the dichotomy of conflict parties and brings bystanders and other com-
munity members into conflict intervention in both formal and informal roles.
He urges ordinary citizen involvement in preventing, resolving, and containing

conflict as a “kind of social immune system preventing the spread of the virus
of violence.”11 In preventing conflict, “third-siders” address latent tensions. In
resolving conflict, they tackle overt conflict and violence, and in containing con-
flict, they deal with the power struggles inherent in conflicts at all levels. His
roles range from “providers” and “bridge-builders” in the prevention stage, to
“mediators” and “healers” in the resolution phase, and “witnesses,” “peace-
keepers,” and “referees” in the containment phase.12
Ury’s notion of sequencing roles based on conflict stages builds on Fisher
and Keashley’s earlier idea of a contingency model of intervention. They
propose a sequencing of functions based on the stages of a conflict and the
propensity of the role to deescalate conflict. Thus, negotiation and mediation
occur early on, whereas arbitration, mediation with muscle, and peacekeep-
ing occur later, once the parties are polarized and the conflict has reached a
destructive and violent stage. Development aid, they suggest, serves the func-
tion of reducing structural inequalities.13
The “Responsibility to Protect” report, which the United Nations endorsed
as a concept, outlines a sequential view of intervention and elucidates a more
expansive set of actions and actors, ranging from noncoercive to coercive
options. The task of the International Commission on Intervention and State
Sovereignty (ICISS), which produced the report at the behest of former UN
Secretary General Kofi Annan, was to establish a consensus regarding the con-
ditions under which intervention would be warranted and the process by which
it would be legitimate. The ICISS returned with the idea of the “responsibility
to protect”: that the international community has a responsibility to prevent,
react, and rebuild when individual states are either unwilling or unable to pro-
tect their own citizens. In the prevention stage, actors work to address root
causes of possible violence via political and diplomatic, economic, and legal
mechanisms. The reaction stage includes a range of less and more coercive
measures, from sanctions to international military intervention and involves
mostly governmental and intergovernmental actors. In the rebuilding stage, a
range of actors, from civil society and NGOs to governments, work to rebuild
societies and address the sources that caused the violence.14
The range of roles and stages outlined here reflects a recognition of the
increasing sophistication of actors and the challenges to building peace.
Schirch takes a somewhat different approach and examines the universe of
tasks needed to build peace. Instead of matching roles to stages, she defines
strategic peacebuilding as a “connecting space or nexus for collaboration”15
that requires a variety of approaches. Common to all approaches are a set of
values (e.g., human needs and human rights, interdependence, partnership),
relational skills (e.g., negotiation, problem solving, and active listening), ana-
lytical frameworks (e.g., structural violence), and processes for peacebuilding.
She divides the processes aimed at building peace into four different types:
waging conflict nonviolently, reducing direct violence, building capacity, and
transforming relationships. She lists humanitarian assistance as one of the
mechanisms under the approach of reducing direct violence. Schirch, like the
others, puts forth a multilayered and multipronged approach that assumes a

variety of actors in intervention. She acknowledges the need to coordinate and
concludes that it “cannot simply be one organization or group directing or del-
egating tasks to others.”16 Instead, she espouses modeling the approaches and
skills that peacebuilding actors expect conflict parties to adopt and the need for
accountability among and between peacebuilding actors that reflect the values,
skills, and tools that each brings to the endeavor.
This call for coordination has resonated with others, both in the humani-
tarian and the peacebuilding fields. A number of writers have explored issues
of coordination and complementarity from a variety of perspectives. For exam-
ple, a 2006 issue of International Negotiation focused on coordination in con-
flict prevention, conflict resolution, and peacebuilding. Defining coordination
“broadly to include information sharing, collaborative analysis and strategiz-
ing, resource sharing, formal partnerships, and other means of synchroniz-
ing and/or integrating activities,”17 the editors of the issue argue for “effective
coordination” that not only examines the costs and benefits of coordination
within a particular context but also the more expansive goals that coordina-
tion is designed to achieve. In their view, these expansive goals are sustainable
peace and security, and the relevant actors are intergovernmental, NGO, and
international organizations in the conflict resolution, humanitarian, develop-
ment, and security sectors. Nevertheless, they suggest “coordination for coor-
dination’s sake” is not a viable or constructive option.
Ricigliano espouses a more nuanced view, looking at degrees of coordina-
tion among actors in peacebuilding. He examines the notion of effective collab-
oration, proposing that this depends on both timing and depth of involvement.
In other words, collaboration can happen at multiple stages (e.g., problem/
needs identification, consultation, policy making/decision making, analysis,
planning, and implementation) and to different degrees, from information
sharing (i.e., exchanging ideas or data) to coordination (e.g., dividing types
or location of activity), cooperation (e.g., joint programming or activities) and
integration (i.e., merging projects or organizations). Deeper coordination, he
argues, is easiest when it begins early.18
Within the humanitarian literature, the notion of coordination has also
received attention. Based on several decades of experience and research,
Minear summarizes three models of coordination that the humanitarian com-
munity has used: coordination by command, coordination by consensus, and
coordination by default.19 The first has a defined and authoritative leadership
structure, the second operates more by persuasion, whereas in the third model,
coordination occurs more informally and without any kind of clear structure
or design. Minear concludes that stronger command structures facilitate and
enhance coordination.
In principle, although coordination is desirable, it has a number of draw-
backs. Those who criticize the push for more coordination among actors, and
humanitarian actors in particular, argue it takes too much money and time
to coordinate and that the benefits are not clear.20 Minear highlights several
additional obstacles. The desire and need for agency visibility and profile can
inhibit cooperation, even when it might occur more organically. Furthermore,

the rapid response nature of humanitarian action makes it difficult to imple-
ment coordination mechanisms, because the need to respond quickly tends to
trump other priorities. Minear acknowledges the roles of donors and individual
personalities that can either inhibit or foster coordination.21 In many instances,
personality conflicts can greatly inhibit the ability of agencies to coordinate
their activities or share information.22
Too much integration or coordination also compromises agency inde-
pendence. If everyone is “inside the system,” there is no room for more radi-
cal critiques from “outside the system.” For example, if all agencies offering
humanitarian assistance operate under the same command or coordination
structure, it could stifle criticisms of aid delivery mechanisms. This is espe-
cially problematic if and when governments and foreign policy are involved.
The statements of two senior U.S. officials raised the ire of the American NGO
community in the post-9/11 context. In 2001, Colin Powell, then secretary
of State, claimed NGOs were “force-multipliers” for U.S. foreign policy in
Iraq.23 In 2003, Andrew Natsios, then head of the U.S. Agency for Interna-
tional Development, threatened to pull funding for NGOs in Iraq that did not
acknowledge their U.S. government funding.24 These statements made many
humanitarian and other actors nervous, because it compromised their inde-
pendence and impartiality and associated them with controversial U.S. foreign
policy objectives. Similarly, close coordination between human rights actors
and peace negotiators may compromise the ability of either to effectively per-
form their roles.
This last point raises a significant and underexplored issue: that of how
various actors should and can relate to each other. Ricigliano is one of the few
scholar-practitioners who advocates an integrated approach to peacebuilding
and suggests a mechanism for how to achieve this. He makes a compelling
argument for more integration and coordination between sectors of activity in
peacebuilding (e.g., political, social, structural) and describes how artificial dis-
tinctions between them can actually impede progress toward sustainable peace.
These distinctions, he suggests, arise out of the different “theories of action”
to which agencies ascribe. Specifically, “theories of action, while essential, can
actually inhibit an organization from taking a systemic view and achieving real
integration with other actors who have different theories of action.”25 Instead,
he proposes a “network of effective action” approach that prioritizes coordina-
tion through sharing information and adopting an iterative approach as part of
the organizations’ theories of action. He refers to this as a “chaordic” approach
to peacebuilding.26
Several weaknesses of Ricigliano’s approach exist in relation to the argu-
ment of this chapter. First, he conflates relief with development actors and does
not make any kind of distinction between them and their different purposes. He
refers to both development and relief actors as structural peacebuilders, leav-
ing no space for purely humanitarian actors. Relatedly, he fails to acknowledge
how underlying principles and values might drive some agencies to pursue a
particular course of action. For humanitarian actors who emphasize neutrality,
impartiality, and independence, empowering war-affected populations to bet-

ter their lives is not a priority; providing life-saving assistance to those in need
takes precedence over other matters. Furthermore, the focus on an integrated
approach tends to overlook the ideas of role clarity and integrity and how some
roles may preclude actors from playing other roles.
Galant and Parlevliet raise the issue of role clarity and integrity in the con-
text of bringing rights-based approaches into addressing conflict or develop-
ment programming. They assert:
Different actors can take responsibility for different aspects and roles,
provided there is some communication, collaboration and coordina-
tion to ensure that all efforts hang together and that there is synergy.
Consequently, an imperative in a rights-based approach to conflict
management is ensuring role clarity and role integrity. Different
actors in an intervention process may play different roles, and where
one actor is called upon to play various roles, his or her primary role
should not be compromised.27
In other words, they, like some of the authors already mentioned, recognize
that playing some roles in conflict situations precludes playing others.
This manifests in different ways depending on an organization’s mandate.
A central dilemma for humanitarians, development organizations, and those
involved in strategic peacebuilding is the extent to which advocacy becomes a
part of the mandate and activities of an organization. For example, the found-
ers of Médécins Sans Frontières (MSF) split from the International Commit-
tee of the Red Cross (ICRC) on precisely this issue after the Nigerian-Biafran
war in the 1960s, with MSF taking a more public advocacy stance on the war.
Terry summarizes the difference between the two approaches as a confidential-
ity issue, pointing out that “MSF speaks publicly only when its personnel have
been direct witnesses, and only if it is likely to help the victims to do so. . . . In
such [extreme] cases, MSF considers that aid organizations have only one tool
left to them, the freedom of speech, and that it has a responsibility to denounce
the violence and oppression, even at the cost of expulsion.”28 The ICRC main-
tained (and still does) that its ability to effectively provide humanitarian aid is
dependent on its principles of impartiality and neutrality. These principles, in
turn, compel it to pursue any advocacy strategy behind the scenes, if it does
so at all.29 It is precisely respect for the ICRC and its principles of impartiality,
neutrality, and quiet diplomacy that allow it access to prisoners and populations
where others have none. Indeed, the ICRC’s interpretation of humanitarian
principles dictates its actions.
The degree to which advocacy contradicts or supports principles of impar-
tiality and neutrality depends in part on the definition of advocacy. The type of
advocacy in which an organization engages can influence its ability to perform
other roles. As Laue points out, advocacy can be in terms of process, party, or
outcome.30 Kraybill adds values advocacy to this list.31 In some situations, it is
possible to maintain impartiality while simultaneously advocating on behalf of
a particular process or values. In other situations, outcome or party advocacy
is an important, indeed crucial role, especially in asymmetric conflicts. Asym-

metry in conflict implies the need for power balancing and structural change, a
long-term effort that requires public and sometimes forceful advocacy on behalf
of particular options or outcomes. Organizations and individuals need to make
choices between these types of advocacy that are consistent with their mandate
and retains their credibility as interveners and the trust of the conflict parties.
In other situations, trust, developed through long-term relationships,
paves the way for a role in negotiating peace agreements but may compromise
the fundamental purpose for the actor’s original presence. For example, in one
country rebels have approached individuals from a development organization
to play a role in facilitating a peace agreement with the government. Should
development organizations get involved in negotiations between parties, in
facilitating contacts? Can individuals, employed by organizations, separate
their individual selves from their corporate identity? This is part of peacebuild-
ing, but it raises difficult issues for those faced with the choice. The decision
to assist with negotiations or to act as a go-between may compromise the
organization’s accreditation (i.e., the permission the government grants to the
organization to operate in a country) because of a perceived partiality toward
the rebel group, and thus its ability to fulfill its development mandate. Again,
organizations need to make these choices dependent on their own assessment
of their role(s), mandates, and values. Perhaps the organization could step in as
a convener32 but not assist in the actual negotiations.
This discussion of third-party roles raises a number of points related to the
underlying principles and values that inform how an agency operates, as well
as the dilemmas inherent in coordinating or simply linking roles in conflict
and building peace. Strategic peacebuilding requires multiple actors and activi-
ties and even the integration of the political, social, and structural elements
of peacebuilding.33 Nevertheless, for reasons described next, it is important to
maintain a role and space for humanitarian action that remains outside of a
peacebuilding paradigm.
The Integration Debate
A central debate within the humanitarian community is the extent to which

humanitarian action and actors should stand alone, apart from the more explic-
itly political roles of peacebuilding or even development.34 On the one hand,
proponents of integration argue that closer coordination between the various
actors and activities would increase the effectiveness of peacebuilding. On the
other, those who want to guard their independence from the more “political”
goals of peacebuilding resist integration under the umbrella of peacebuilding.
The more common arguments against integration are intrinsically linked to
the traditional humanitarian principles of neutrality and impartiality: first, that
peacebuilding is a political endeavor, and as such runs counter to the core val-
ues of neutrality and impartiality; and second, that the loss of neutrality and
impartiality is related to a decrease in the physical security of aid workers.
The “integrationists”35 have argued that to make real progress in prevent-

ing violence or reconstructing societies emerging from the ashes of war or
intractable conflict, it is necessary to link humanitarian action with other pos-
sible responses. A number of commentators have suggested that the provi-
sion of humanitarian assistance has become a substitute for decisive political
action in response to emerging complex emergencies. Indeed, it is often easier
for governments to earmark money for humanitarian relief rather than work
to negotiate or implement peace agreements, despite the fact that most of
the individual country UN consolidated appeals for humanitarian assistance
remain underfunded. Charney maintains it is possible to uphold traditional
humanitarian principles while at the same time working for broader social
change. In his words, “Integration is about unified international action in sup-
port of reconciliation and social inclusion.”36 The United Nations integrated
missions, first introduced in the Brahimi Report on UN peacekeeping, repre-
sent a step toward a conceptual and practical integration.37 These integrated
missions unite all UN activities and actors, including humanitarian ones, in
a given country under one banner. Even outside of integrated missions, the
Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs and the Under-Secretary
General for Humanitarian Affairs are located under the Secretary General’s
office, thus implicitly linking the humanitarian with the political. Indeed, a
number of commentators express skepticism that the political and humani-
tarian can be or are separate. For Weiss, “The assumption that politics and
humanitarianism can be entirely separated, as if they were parts of two differ-
ent and self-contained worlds, is a fiction.”38 Instead, he and other integration-
ists argue that humanitarians must acknowledge and work within the political
world in which they operate.
In contrast, the more “purist” humanitarians have long resisted any con-
nection to or association with other actors working in violent conflict zones,
from the military to those agencies carrying out development or peacebuild-
ing programming. Purists emphasize the fundamental principles of independ-
ence, impartiality, and neutrality and rightly suggest that a purely humanitarian
response to alleviate human suffering is enough in and of itself. To taint
humanitarian action with a political agenda, such as “building peace” or aid
conditionality, is to destroy a basic and time-tested response to violence and
war. In the words of commentator David Rieff:
The tragedy of humanitarianism may be that for all its failings and
all the limitations of its viewpoint, it represents what is decent in an
indecent world. Its core assumptions—solidarity, a fundamental
sympathy for victims, and an antipathy for oppressors and
exploiters—are what we are in those rare moments of grace when we
are at our best. . . . Independent humanitarianism does many things
well and some things badly, but the things that it is now being called
upon to do, such as helping to advance the cause of human rights,
contributing to stopping wars, and furthering social justice, are
beyond its competence, however much we might wish it otherwise.39
For purists, even the linkage to development programming is suspect, for

development implies elements of normalcy and legitimacy.40 In an analysis of
Operation Lifeline Sudan and the relief-to-development continuum, the review-
ers argue that development implies a measure of political and economic sta-
bility that is usually not present in complex political emergencies. As a result,
development assistance is neither neutral nor impartial. Humanitarian assist-
ance, in contrast, “is provided by the majority of donors unconditionally. . . .
Unlike development aid, relief aid does not imply international recognition, or
legitimation of the government or other authorities controlling territory.”41 For
others, the critique of integration is based more on moral reasons. De Torrenté
is particularly derisive in his critique of the integration agenda: “The implica-
tion of the coherence agenda is that meeting lifesaving needs is too limited in
scope, and that the principles of impartiality, neutrality, and independence that
have typically characterized humanitarian action should be set aside in order to
harness aid to the ‘higher’ goals of peace, security, and development.”42 Essen-
tially he argues on ethical and moral grounds that humanitarian action is a
good in and of itself.
A more recent and practical critique of the integration agenda is related
to an increase in targeted incidents against aid workers. A number of high-
profile attacks on the ICRC, the United Nations, and NGOs have generated
statements that the loss of impartiality and neutrality has put aid workers at
risk. The bombings of the UN and ICRC headquarters in Iraq in August and
October 2003 and the murder of seventeen aid workers wearing T-shirts bear-
ing their agency’s logo in Sri Lanka in August 2006 tragically illustrate the
dangers of aid work. Although the reasons for these attacks remain unclear,
some have pointed out that the United Nations’ reputation in Iraq was dam-
aged by years of sanctions.43 In the case of the seventeen Action Contre la Faim
national staff killed in eastern Sri Lanka, all but one were Tamil, suggesting a
politically motivated attack.
Evidence on the link between security and the protective value of impar-
tiality and neutrality is mixed. In a study of fatalities of aid workers between
1996 and 2005, Stoddard, Harmer, and Haver found that countries with UN
integrated missions suffered no higher a rate of fatalities than those without.
The study concludes, “It is safe to say that these variables [military interven-
tion, presence of transnational terrorist groups, presence of armed groups or
use of integrated mission approach] are not important determinants of vio-
lence against humanitarian aid workers.”44 In other words, political tainting or
the loss of impartiality and neutrality does not seem to explain attacks on aid
workers. Another study of factors contributing to increased physical insecurity
for NGOs suggested working with both sides of a conflict as a risk factor for
increased insecurity.45
Despite these findings, experience and anecdotal evidence imply that the
actions of one organization directly impact others. Security management man-
uals emphasize the transfer effect of one organization’s behavior on others.46
This risk operates at multiple levels. For instance, in one country a humani-
tarian convoy injured a civilian in a road accident. Several days later, another
convoy was attacked in the same location, ostensibly in retaliation for the
previous accident.47 At an organizational level, in another country a relief and
development organization was working closely with a human rights organi-
zation. Militias attacked both organizations because they did not agree with
their agenda of refugee return.48 At an international level, the risk relates
more to foreign policy and relations between states. In Gaza City in August
2006, Palestinian demonstrators attacked humanitarian offices after the start
of the war in Lebanon, protesting the lack of protection for Lebanese children.
The perception of a link between agendas is often more important than the
reality.
The conceptual lack of association, and its concomitant messiness on
literal and metaphorical battlefields, and the desire to remain untainted sur-
faces in examples on the ground. This is both the burden and incentive of the
humanitarian principles of independence, neutrality, and impartiality. In stud-
ying the perceptions of local communities of the aid enterprise in Afghanistan,
researchers discovered, based on their focus group interviews, that Afghans do
not care whether the aid arrives via the military or humanitarian actors. Rather,
they care more that they receive it.49 The Multi-Donor Evaluation of Assistance
to Rwanda observed a similar trend in the refugee camps of eastern Zaire in
1996, where refugees did not distinguish between Red Cross and other NGOs
or humanitarian actors.50 Given this reality, are we fooling ourselves into think-
ing that it actually matters? Perceptions on the ground are important and can
dramatically influence the levels of safety and security an organization enjoys.
An effective approach to security management for humanitarians (and peace-
builders) takes this into account and works to educate local populations about
their purpose, values, and goals.
At a minimum, humanitarian aid should do no harm, meaning that
humanitarian action should avoid contributing to or exacerbating conflict.51
Avoiding contributing to the divisions and fault lines that characterize violent
conflict is a more limited and achievable task for humanitarians than contribut-
ing to the goals of building peace. Terry reaches a similar conclusion:
Humanitarian actors should ensure that the essential tasks—such

as alleviating life-threatening suffering—are undertaken with
minimal harm before considering expanding humanitarian action
beyond them. If aid organizations pursue conflict resolution and
peace-building activities, they are likely not only to increase the
negative consequences of humanitarian action, but to further
exonerate states of their responsibilities in these realms.52
A Separate Space for Humanitarian Action
The central argument of this chapter is that humanitarian assistance should

not be incorporated into the larger peacebuilding agenda. The foregoing dis-
cussion on peacebuilding roles and integration has a number of implications.
In terms of relationships between peacebuilding roles, interveners in conflict

need to think consequentially about their roles. This manifests in several ways.
First, it is important to look at both formal and informal mechanisms of coor-
dination or, in the words of Lederach, “weaving the web of strategic peacebuild-
ing.” Perhaps it is more productive to reframe the question and ask not whether
humanitarian action should be linked with broader efforts but to examine the
ways in which it is already linked. This necessitates a look at the informal
mechanisms of networking as opposed to the more formal and institutional-
ized mechanisms of coordination. These informal mechanisms of coordination
are often more effective, efficient, and important. Much of the “business” and
creative thinking of conferences, negotiating peace agreements, or providing
life-saving assistance happens over the dinner table or at local watering holes
and not in formal meetings. Although the downside of informal mechanisms
is that coordination then depends on who you know versus what you do, it is
incumbent on interveners to expand the range of actors, in particular to include
local networks, and to think expansively about what constitutes peacebuilding
intervention. Peacebuilding, and humanitarian action, need to better use local
capacity,53 and the peacebuilding field needs to think more creatively about
immediate responses to ongoing violence.
In reality, conflict resolvers and/or those involved in facilitating or mediat-
ing peace agreements or ceasefires at a local, national, or international level,
with their emphasis on impartiality, have much in common with humani-
tarians espousing neutrality. Both shoulder the burden of not being seen as
favoring one side or the other. Being seen as talking too long with one side or
providing more assistance to one side, regardless of the reality of the situation,
can have deleterious effects and lead to accusations of partiality. Each works for
and claims allegiance to a larger goal (e.g., providing assistance to a suffering
population or crafting a ceasefire that stops the violence). In other words, the
implications and burdens of impartiality within the field of conflict resolution/
transformation are analogous to those of neutrality for humanitarian action.
Both require associating with, talking to, and negotiating with and between all
sides, a fact that evokes the ire of advocates (“talking to the bad guys”). Both
involve walking a tightrope between both sides and other members of the web
of international actors intervening in various ways in conflict. This highlights
the import of thinking proactively, consequentially, and ethically about the
inherent limitations of roles. In other words, organizations need to find exam-
ples of the consequences of particular actions and be clear about their own
niche, capacity, and mandates.
Third, guarding space for humanitarians means narrowing the definitions
of what constitutes humanitarian action and mediation.54 Many of the assump-
tions of humanitarian assistance, such as the short-term nature of assistance
as an intervention, actually end up going against some of the core values of
strategic peacebuilding, such as empowerment, building the platform for con-
structive change,55 and the idea of longer term interventions. It also defuses the
moral power of humanitarian action: that we provide relief solely to assist those
who are in need of assistance. Relief/humanitarian assistance is not supposed
to address structural injustice, nor is it designed to empower people to change

their situations. It is a small bandage, and sometimes these are necessary. If we
want to be seen as responding to violence, we need to allow purist humanitar-
ian actors and mediators the conceptual and practical space to do their work.
Perhaps there is room for ambiguity in many peacebuilding roles, but certain
roles (e.g., humanitarian action and mediators) must remain separate to pro-
tect the integrity of the role and the safety of the actors.
This leads to the second element of the argument, that of the extent to
which humanitarian assistance should be incorporated into the peacebuilding
agenda. The dilemma is that the arguments of both purists and integration-
ists have merit. On one hand, assuming Laue is correct in asserting that all
intervention alters the power balance, all humanitarian assistance is political.56
On the other hand, the underlying values of humanitarian assistance do have
intrinsic value and should not be sacrificed for other values. Integrationists
go too far in incorporating humanitarian assistance into broader agendas of
building peace, but purists need to acknowledge how humanitarian assistance
is manipulated for political gain. This means humanitarian assistance should
avoid contributing to conflict but should not aim to build peace.
Human rights advocates would not suggest throwing away the convention
against torture or the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and Optional
Protocols simply because some individuals and states disregard their obliga-
tions under these conventions. Nor would police officers or ordinary citizens
advocate removing laws declaring murder a crime simply because not every-
one abides by them. By the same token, we should not discard the value of
humanitarian assistance as a moral and necessary response to human suffer-
ing because it does not (and should not) necessarily contribute to a long-term
agenda of building peace. Instead, we need to guard the space for humanitarian
actors to do their work and search outside the box for ways of building peace.
NOTES
1. John Paul Lederach, Building Peace: Sustainable Reconciliation in Divided

Societies (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace Press, 1997), John Paul Lederach,
The Little Book of Conflict Transformation, The Little Books of Justice and Peacebuilding
(Intercourse, Pa.: Good Books, 2003), John Paul Lederach, The Moral Imagination: The
Art and Soul of Building Peace (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005).
2. ICISS, “The Responsibility to Protect: Report of the International Commission
on Intervention and State Sovereignty” (Ottawa, ON: IDRC and DFAIT, 2001).
3. For example, according to various IRIN reports (http://www.irinnews.
org), in January 2007, a group of NGO and UN staff and African Mission in Sudan
peacekeepers were harassed at a social gathering. Sudanese police arrested and
subsequently beat those in detention. In addition, more than 400 aid workers were
evacuated from Sudan in December 2006. At least twelve aid workers were killed in
Darfur alone between May and December 2006.
4. Academy of Dispute Resolution, “Model Standards of Mediator Conduct,” 1994.
5. Academy of Family Mediators, “Standards of Practice for Family and Divorce
Mediation,” 1998. Impartiality is defined as “freedom from favoritism or bias, either
in word or action,” while neutrality “refers to the relationship that the mediator has
with the disputing parties” (1). The more recent (September 2005) “Model Standards
of Conduct for Mediators,” adopted by the Association for Conflict Resolution, the
American Bar Association, and the American Arbitration Association, includes
impartiality in its standards but makes no mention of neutrality.
6. James Laue and Gerald Cormick, “The Ethics of Intervention in Community
Disputes,” in The Ethics of Social Intervention, ed. Gordon Bermant, Herbert C.
Kelman, and Donald P. Warwick (Washington, D.C.: Hemisphere, 1978).
7. James Laue, “The Emergence and Institutionalization of Third Party Roles in
Conflict,” in Conflict Management and Problem-Solving: Interpersonal to International
Applications, ed. Dennis J. D. Sandole and Ingrid Sandole-Staroste (New York: New
York University Press, 1987), p. 20.
8. Ibid.
9. Paul Wehr and John Paul Lederach, “Mediating Conflict in Central America,”
Journal of Peace Research 28, no. 1 (1991).
10. Christopher Mitchell, “The Process and Stages of Mediation: Two Sudanese
Cases,” in Making War and Waging Peace: Foreign Intervention in Africa, ed. David R.
Smock (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace Press, 1993).
11. William L. Ury, The Third Side: How We Fight and How We Can Stop (New
York: Penguin, 2000), p. 7.
12. Ibid.
13. Ronald J. Fisher and Loraleigh Keashly, “The Potential Complementarity of
Mediation and Consultation within a Contingency Model of Third Party Intervention,”
Journal of Peace Research 28, no. 1 (1991).
14. ICISS, “The Responsibility to Protect.”
15. Lisa Schirch, The Little Book of Strategic Peacebuilding, The Little Books of Justice
and Peacebuilding (Intercourse, Pa.: Good Books, 2004), p. 11.
16. Ibid., p. 83.
17. Susan Allen Nan and Andrea Strimling, “Coordination in Conflict Prevention,
Conflict Resolution and Peacebuilding,” International Negotiation 11, no. 1 (2006): 2.
18. Robert Ricigliano, “Collaboration” (paper presented at the annual meeting of
the Alliance for Peacebuilding, Shawnee on Delaware, Pa, October 22–24, 2006).
19. Larry Minear, The Humanitarian Enterprise: Dilemmas and Discoveries
(Bloomfield, Conn.: Kumarian Press, 2002).
20. Nicholas Stockton, “Humanitarianism Bound: Coherence and Catastrophe in
the Congo, 1998–2002,” unpublished study for the Centre for Humanitarian Dialogue,
2003.
21. Minear, The Humanitarian Enterprise, chapter 2.
22. In a study of humanitarian action in the West Bank and Gaza, personalities
played a role in the degree to which various UN agencies coordinated their approaches.
See Larissa Fast, “‘Aid in a Pressure Cooker’: Humanitarian Action in the Occupied
Palestinian Territory” (Medford, Mass.: Feinstein International Center, 2006).
23. Colin Powell, “Secretary of State Colin L. Powell Remarks to the National
Foreign Policy Conference for Leaders of Non-Governmental Organizations,” October
26, 2001, available at http://www.yale.edu/lawweb/avalon/sept_11/powell_brief31.htm.
24. Andrew Natsios, “Remarks at the InterAction Forum, Closing Plenary
Session,” May 21, 2003, available at http://www.interaction.org/forum2003/panels.html.
25. Robert Ricigliano, “Networks of Effective Action: Implementing an Integrated
Approach to Peacebuilding,” Security Dialogue 34, no. 4 (2003): 449.
26. Ibid.
27. Ghalib Galant and Michelle Parlevliet, “Using Rights to Address Conflict—
A Valuable Synergy,” in Reinventing Development? Translating Rights-Based Approaches
from Theory into Practice, ed. Paul Gready and Jonathan Ensor (London: Zed Books,
2006), p. 117 (italics in original).
28. Fiona Terry, Condemned to Repeat: The Paradox of Humanitarian Action
(Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2002), p. 21.
29. For more on the ICRC principles, see Denise Plattner, “ICRC Neutrality and
Neutrality in Humanitarian Assistance,” International Review of the Red Cross, no. 311
(1996).
30. Laue, “The Emergence and Institutionalization of Third Party Roles in
Conflict.”
31. Ronald Kraybill, “The Illusion of Neutrality,” Track Two (November 1992).
32. Mitchell, “The Process and Stages of Mediation.”
33. Ricigliano, “Networks of Effective Action.”
34. In this chapter, I refer to this as “integration” or the “coherence” agenda.
The literature on humanitarian action also addresses this question in discussions on
coordination.
35. For more discussion on the “purist” versus “integrationist” debate described
in this section, see Antonio Donini, “Issues Note” (paper presented at The Future of
Humanitarian Action: Implications of Iraq and Other Recent Crises, brainstorming
workshop, Boston, October 9, 2003). Others refer to “Dunantists” (after Henry
Dunant, whose work on the battlefields of Solferino led to the founding of the ICRC)
or ”classicists” on one hand, and “Wilsonians” (who acknowledge the political
dimension and linkages or convergence between foreign policy and humanitarian
objectives) or “political humanitarians” on the other. The “solidarists,” or those who
choose partiality to one side or to the poor and oppressed and tend to reject both
impartiality and neutrality, are yet another group in the debate. The solidarists are
most often faith-based agencies. See also Thomas G. Weiss, “Principles, Politics, and
Humanitarian Action,” Ethics and International Affairs 13 (1999), and Minear, The
Humanitarian Enterprise, chapter 5.
36. Joel R. Charney, “Upholding Humanitarian Principles in an Effective
Integrated Response,” Ethics and International Affairs 18, no. 2 (2004): 15.
37. Panel on United Nations Peacekeeping Operations, “Report of the Panel
on United Nations Peacekeeping Operations” (New York: United Nations, 2000).
Espen Barth Eide et al., “Report on Integrated Missions: Practical Perspectives and
Recommendations” (New York: UN Executive Committee on Humanitarian Affairs,
2005).
38. Weiss, “Principles, Politics, and Humanitarian Action”, p. 12.
39. David Rieff, A Bed for the Night: Humanitarianism in Crisis (New York: Simon
& Shuster, 2002), p. 334.
40. Mark Duffield, Global Governance and the New Wars: The Merging of
Development and Security (London: Zed Books, 2001), Joanna Macrae, “Purity or
Political Engagement?: Issues in Food and Health Security Interventions in Complex
Political Emergencies,” Journal of Humanitarian Assistance (1998), available at http://
www.jha.ac/articles/a037.htm.
41. Joanna Macrae et al., “Conflict, the Continuum and Chronic Emergencies:
A Critical Analysis of the Scope for Linking Relief, Rehabilitation and Development
Planning in Sudan” (London: Overseas Development Administration, 1996), p. 2.
42. Nicolas de Torrenté, “Humanitarianism Sacrificed: Integration’s False
Promise,” Ethics and International Affairs 18, no. 2 (2004): 3.
43. Independent Panel, “Report of the Independent Panel on the Safety and
Security of UN Personnel in Iraq” (New York: United Nations, 2003), Paul Reynolds,
“Why the UN Is a Target,” BBC News, August 19, 2003.
44. Abby Stoddard, Adele Harmer, and Katherine Haver, “Providing Aid in
Insecure Environments: Trends in Policy and Operations,” HPG Report 23 (London:
ODI, 2006), p. 59.
45. Larissa A. Fast, “Characteristics, Context, and Risk: NGO Insecurity
in Conflict Zones,” Disasters 31, no. 2 (2007), Larissa A. Fast, “Context Matters:
Identifying Micro- and Macro-Level Factors Contributing to NGO Insecurity” (Ph.D.
dissertation, George Mason University, 2002).
46. Koenraad Van Brabant, “Operational Security Management in Violent
Environments,” Good Practice Review 8 (London: Humanitarian Practice Network, 2000).
47. Anonymous personal interview with author, fall 2000.
48. Anonymous personal interview with author, July 2006.
49. See the Afghanistan Case Study in Antonio Donini et al., Mapping the
Security Environment: Understanding the Perceptions of Local Communities, Peace Support
Operations, and Assistance Agencies (Medford, Mass.: Feinstein International Famine
Center, Tufts University, June 2005).
50. John Borton, Emery Brusset, and Alistair Hallam, “Humanitarian Aid
and Effects,” Study 3 (Copenhagen: Steering Committee of the Joint Evaluation of
Emergency Assistance to Rwanda, 1996).
51. Mary B. Anderson, Do No Harm: How Aid Can Support Peace—Or War
(Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 1999).
52. Terry, Condemned to Repeat, p. 245.
53. Others in both the peacebuilding and humanitarian literatures have made
similar recommendations. See, for example, Gil Loescher, “Threatened Are the
Peacemakers,” ND Magazine (2005), Alex de Waal, Famine Crimes: Politics and the Disaster
Relief Industry in Africa (Oxford: James Currey, 1997), John Paul Lederach and Janice
Moomaw Jenner, eds., A Handbook of International Peacebuilding: Into the Eye of the Storm
(San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2002), and Schirch, The Little Book of Strategic Peacebuilding.
54. Elsewhere I have argued for defining conflict resolution more narrowly, using
impartiality and inclusiveness as the two criteria for conflict resolution interventions.
See Larissa A. Fast, “Frayed Edges: Exploring the Boundaries of Conflict Resolution,”
Peace and Change 27, no. 4 (2002).
55. Lederach, The Little Book of Conflict Transformation.
56. Laue, “The Emergence and Institutionalization of Third Party Roles in Conflict.”
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the Congo, 1998–2002.” London, Unpublished Study for the Centre for
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Environments: Trends in Policy and Operations,” HPG Report 23 London: ODI,
2006.
Terry, Fiona. Condemned to Repeat: The Paradox of Humanitarian Action. Ithaca, N.Y.:
Cornell University Press, 2002.
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12
Turning from Hatred to
Community Friendship
Forgiveness Education as a Resource for
Strategic Peacebuilding in Postaccord Belfast
Robert D. Enright, Jeanette Knutson Enright,

and Anthony C. Holter
Our contribution to strategic peacebuilding is the concept of civic

friendship through forgiveness. Ours is a decidedly long-term
strategy for peace in which educational institutions are challenged to
rethink their social curricula to make room for a new development:
forgiveness education. The latter is a strategy for reducing anger and
abiding resentment in children to make room for the possibility of
friendship across the divide of groups that have been torn apart by
violence and war. Because forgiveness education takes much time to
sink deeply into children’s minds and hearts, our strategy spans the
early elementary school years through the end of high school, with
increasingly developmental sophistication regarding what forgive-
ness is and how to achieve it. Only in the later years of schooling are
forgiveness and friendship linked toward groups that have been in
conflict with the students’ own group.
Unless community members, in the unfortunate situation of con-
flict and war, understand and deliberately cultivate forgiveness, they
are unlikely to foster friendship across divided communities. Unless
community members cultivate friendship, we predict that any given
community beset by decades or centuries of violence will not recover
well in a psychological sense, despite the best efforts of lawmakers
and economic reformers. Peace, in other words, centers at least in part
within people (not only without) and in the structures of society. This
is not to invalidate efforts at political and societal reform; it is only
meant as a challenge. Without the psychological change within people,
the goal of peace in any permanent way will be harder to realize.
We are not alone in our call for internal, psychological transformation as

a way of strategically confronting societal conflict. Roger Peterson makes the
compelling case that hatred and resentment in Eastern Europe are barriers to
a lasting peace in that region.1 As we will see, forgiveness is one scientifically
supported antidote to resentment. In his analysis of ethnic conflicts, Kaufman
makes the case that hatred is one of the major variables that continues to fuel
conflict even when economic and political barriers begin to fall.2 Our contribu-
tion, beyond these important works, is to point to actual school curricula for
transforming hatred and resentment toward friendship.
Our own focus for the past six years has been on children within Belfast,
Northern Ireland, a community that has experienced the Troubles and has
been working its way to peace in a postaccord society following the Good Friday
Agreement on April 10, 1998. Much needs to be accomplished in the impover-
ished areas that still have a strong paramilitary presence. Might one necessary
but not sufficient accomplishment be the change of heart that must take place
within people so that their home/community is in better order? Is it possible to
resurrect the ancient notion of friendship, with the vision that those who now
see factions might, in a couple of generations, begin to see friendship as a com-
munity goal? Is it possible to begin with children and educate them in the value
of forgiveness and friendship so that, as adults, they will be deeper forgivers
and friendship seekers than might have been the case without that education?
First we offer a brief history of the conflicts in Northern Ireland and some
of the peace efforts in that region. This is followed by a sketch of the current
anger within and toward children and youth in Belfast. After all, if the children
are currently unaffected by the Troubles of recent decades, then why bother with
the considerable effort that will be needed to establish curricula that focus on
forgiveness and friendship? After this brief discussion, we offer an exposition
on friendship based on Aristotle’s analysis. We then offer scientific evidence
from psychology that a lack of friendship, in the form of abiding anger and
hatred, has deleterious effects. We then turn to a solution to anger: forgiveness.
After briefly defining forgiveness, we examine its effectiveness in cleaning up
the human heart. This is followed by a description of forgiveness education
within Belfast in particular because we contend that starting with the children
is the best chance of developing communities that cultivate friendship. In the
penultimate section, we address skeptical views of forgiveness and its place in
strategic peacebuilding. We end the chapter with a challenge to those involved
in the processes of strategic peacebuilding.
A Brief History of the Troubles in Northern Ireland and the

Subsequent Peace Efforts
The roots of the contemporary conflict in Northern Ireland can be traced back
to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, a period referred to as the Ulster
Plantation, when English citizens were given parcels of land in the north of
Ireland that had been previously owned and farmed by Irish citizens.3 The
TURNING FROM HATRED TO COMMUNITY FRIENDSHIP 293
ensuing discord between these groups was distinguished as “cultural, territo-

rial, as well as religious” and was exacerbated over the next several decades
through military campaigns (such as the Battle of the Boyne in 1690) and leg-
islative actions (such as the Act of Union in 1801), which increased English
interest and governance in Ireland.4
Significant armed and legislative actions continued to shape the landscape
of Ireland throughout the twentieth century. One of the most noteworthy armed
conflicts occurred when local groups of Irish citizens rebelled against the Eng-
lish in what is known as the 1916 Easter Rising. This armed attack against the
English, and the subsequent execution of the Irish leaders of the insurrection,
precipitated the Government of Ireland Act of 1920.5 The act effectively created
two separate governments: one in the Irish Free State and another in Northern
Ireland. The Irish Free State later seceded from the British Commonwealth
and became the Republic of Ireland in 1949.
Territorial, political, and religious divisions escalated along with increased
inequality in Northern Ireland over the next half-century. Individuals, groups,
and neighborhoods were segregated along distinct political and religious divi-
sions: Nationalists (typically Catholic, desiring a unified Ireland) and Unionists
(typically Protestant, desiring a maintained union with England). During the
mid-twentieth century, many Catholic Nationalists in Northern Ireland were
inspired by the global civil rights movement and organized under the North-
ern Ireland Civil Rights Association to demand equality. Organized protests
were met with hostility that fueled action and retaliation by paramilitary groups
throughout the region, such as car bombings, murders, kidnappings, and so
on, and frequent clashes with the British military and the Royal Ulster Constab-
ulary. Violence directly connected with paramilitary activity claimed the lives of
nearly 2,500 people between 1969 and 1979 alone. This period of intergroup
and sectarian violence in Northern Ireland that began in the 1960s and contin-
ued through the late 1990s is colloquially referred to as the Troubles.
Great strides have been made in the past decade to diffuse intergroup vio-
lence of the Troubles and promote peace. The ratification of the agreement in
April 1998 was a historic event that began the process of governmental reform,
paramilitary decommissioning, and several other key social and education
changes in Northern Ireland.6 Although the success of a power-sharing gov-
ernment was short lived—direct rule from England was reinstated in 2002—
preparations are under way to reinstate a local, home-rule government in
Northern Ireland.7 It should also be noted that significant progress has been
made with regard to paramilitary decommissioning and disarmament. In July
2005, the Irish Republican Army called for its members to disarm and cease
violent activity, and this has been validated by a recent report of the monitoring
commission.8 Despite these positive steps forward about ten years after the
agreement, there remains a “significant and enduring level of violence” within
Belfast and other communities throughout Northern Ireland.9
Certain sections of Belfast are demarked by flags, painted curbs, politi-
cal murals, and politically charged parades that effectively divide entire neigh-
borhoods by political affiliation, religious and ethnic identity, and paramilitary
association.10 Some of the more notorious interface areas are physically divided
by a large concrete and steel “peace” wall. The persistence of sectarian and
community violence continues to have deleterious outcomes for individual
members of these communities, especially young children.11 Therefore, it is
of utmost importance that children growing up in this ongoing conflict have
access to peace education and a voice in peacemaking processes.12
Belfast’s Children Today: Are They Angry?
Elsewhere, we have surveyed the extent of anger that is present in six- to seven-
year-old children in state and Catholic schools within what the locals call “the
interface areas” of Belfast.13 The interface areas are characterized by Catholic
and Protestant housing in close proximity, with occasional sectarian violence
erupting within the community. Approximately ninety students representing
Irish Catholic and British Protestant culture were administered a well-validated
anger inventory.
The results were compared with those from Milwaukee, Wisconsin’s cen-
tral city, where ethnic segregation and violence are also common, and from
Madison, Wisconsin, where such segregation and violence are not as prevalent.
The results showed that the children in Belfast and Milwaukee were statistically
equivalent in terms of anger, and both were significantly higher than the chil-
dren in Madison. In fact, the average scores in Belfast and Milwaukee were at
or near the clinical level of anger, suggesting that the average six- to seven-year-
old in those communities is in need of professional help for levels of anger.
We have abundant observations from our (to date) five years of work within
Belfast’s schools. Here are only eight examples (of many more that we have) to
illustrate that the interface areas of Belfast are in need of intervention to heal
the hearts of the children. Some of the examples show the children’s anger,
whereas others show anger toward them. We can only surmise the anger that
may be developing in the children who are targets of others’ anger. First, in
one school of 212 students in which we work, 100 of them are being treated
by medical and psychological professionals outside of the school for sleepless-
ness, anxiety, and depression. Second, a prominent paramilitary leader ordered
that his adolescent son be knee-capped (crippling by gunshot to the knees at
close range). Third, for many months, four-year-old girls were terrorized on
their way to school by adults throwing rocks and bags full of urine at them, try-
ing to prevent them from going to a school in which different beliefs from their
own were taught and learned. Fourth, a teenage boy was crucified to a block of
wood by other youths in what was reported as a sectarian act. Fifth, another
teenage boy was murdered by other adolescents wielding baseball bats. Once
he was down, they stomped on his head. This, too, was identified by police as
a sectarian act. Sixth, a group of courageous students from our own university
visited a school to help paint the interior walls. Two weeks after the students
finished the rewarding but exhausting job, vandals burned the gymnasium
of that school in what police called a sectarian act. Seven, three cars were
fire-bombed in the school parking lot during school hours at another school;
this was also reported by police as a sectarian act. Finally, when we commented
to one principal about the wonderfully disciplined behavior of the children in
the school, she humbly remarked, “Oh, yes, they are behaving well for now, but
after school, too many of them will be standing on the street corner throwing
rocks at the bus from the other school nearby.”
Social science, then, with the best psychometric measures available, shows
the children to be excessively angry. Taking time to be a part of school life—
meeting with teachers and principals, and observing children throughout the
school day—shows us that some children are perpetrators of violence and the
victims of it. The idea of friendship with the “other side” is so distant from
many children’s minds as to make our proposed project laughable. Yet anger
and violence are no laughing matters, nor is our scientific evidence on the
efficacy of forgiveness education to reduce anger and restore emotional well-
being. Thus, we proceed to an exposition of the life-saving concept of friend-
ship and the meaning of that term. We then turn to a discussion of anger and
its diminution through forgiveness education, as a way of eventually fostering
friendship.
An Aristotelian Understanding of Friendship and Its Importance
Civic friendship within communities has been the focus of some scholars’
work.14 Yet the appropriation of this Aristotelian concept for direct intervention
within communities is rare. This is unfortunate for at least two reasons: (1)
Aristotle remains one of the most popular philosophers in the West, and (2) he
held up friendship as the primary quality of a good community, or the City.
In two of his central works, the Nicomachean Ethics and Politics, Aristotle
described two kinds of friendship, one on the individual level and the other on
the civic level, a collection of partnerships of partnerships. Either kind of friend-
ship is so important that they are said to transcend justice. To say that anything
transcends justice is an attention grabber primarily because Aristotle’s men-
tor, Plato, held justice to be the paragon virtue. Yet for Aristotle, friendship is
a form of love, the highest form of love. He refers to friendship on one hand
as a virtue because it contains an individual’s inclination and practice of love.
On the other hand, he clarifies that friendship may not be an actual virtue but
instead involves virtue, presumably because, unlike true virtues, which can be
practiced by themselves when others are practicing vice, friendship requires
goodness between two or more people.
Aristotle distinguished three kinds of friendship—those of mutual pleas-
ure, utility, and moral goodness. Only the friendship of good will concerns us
here because it is the highest form of friendship centered on mutual love and
unconditionality (loving the other as an end and not for the fleeting conditions
of pleasure or utility). Civic friendship, as we understand Aristotle, is a deliber-
ate fostering of good will toward others as an end in and of itself. It involves
the cultivation of support and the development of bonds. It is the deliberate
avoidance of factions because all citizens are capable of offering and receiving
love and respect.
Civic friendship is more difficult to understand than individual friendship,
as it is considered by some to be “more watery.”15 Civic friendship includes
more people, in more complex relations than individual relationships, yet
each shares important similarities. Both concern moral good, which implies a
mutual caring (a return of affection, in Aristotle’s words) between and among
people. Both imply a certain kind of equality between and among people, not
in an arithmetic sense (all get three apples) but in a moral sense. All people are
part of the moral good, all can cultivate and offer respect, and all are concerned
about the development of virtue in the other. To enter into civic friendship is to
enter into a world in which it is necessary that the citizens grow in virtue.
For Aristotle, a city cannot be a good community unless its citizens are
good. If the people of a community do not develop friendship, then it is unlikely
that the community will actually be a city in the deepest sense of that word. A
collection of people living together is not a city, is not a healthy community,
simply because the citizens tolerate each other, have good sanitation facilities,
or experience a reasonable level of economic justice. To tolerate is not neces-
sarily to love the other; to have friendship, as we have seen, by definition, is to
love the other through exercising moral virtue. Tolerance alone is not a positive
moral response but the absence of negative thoughts and actions. Friendship,
on the other hand, provides those positive thoughts and actions.
The Aristotelian challenge, that we are to deliberately foster friendship,
by mutually loving one another, is a high target indeed. Yet it is perfectly con-
sonant with his definition of virtue. For Aristotle, virtue is the disposition of
the mind that is inclined to do good, lying in a mean “relative to us,” such that
a person of wisdom would say, yes, that truly is excellence and should be
pursued.16 In other words, having a good end point helps us take accurate aim
at the target, even if we are not sufficiently developed at present to reach the full
excellence of that end point. Thus, the end point of a good community is friend-
ship among the people, even if the attainment of true and enduring friendship
is difficult at present. At least, to be inclined to seek and practice that friendship
is a good goal.
A word on Aristotle’s metaphysics is in order. He believed, as we know,
in the underlying essence of the moral virtues. The virtues are objective not
subjective, absolute not relative, and universal not situation- or culture-specific.
He, of course, is entirely correct here.17 Has there ever been a society that val-
ued sloth over industriousness, cruelty over compassion, or injustice over jus-
tice? Surely certain cultures express industriousness, compassion, and justice
differently and may even have differing customs or, in some cases, laws to
ensure the proper expression of certain virtues, but their essence is unchanged
in that communities everywhere prefer industry, compassion, and justice. This
is not a trivial point. If virtues are objective, absolute, and universal, then their
applicability in various parts of the world is more likely and more reasona-
ble than we may think. It is not a crime to introduce certain virtues such as
friendship or forgiveness to war-torn lands in distant places as long as the
peacemakers are sensitively aware of the local, cultural, and religious nuances
of the particular virtues of the community. It would seem that the introduction
of the concepts of friendship and forgiveness would be compatible with both
the British Protestant and the Irish Catholic world-views in Belfast. They may
have their nuanced differences, but the basic ideas of these social concepts
would surely be compatible with their long-standing faith traditions.
We are aware of the dangers of imposing particular views of the virtues on
cultures that do not share those particular views. Yet education in virtues need
not involve something rigidly impositional.18 Rather, it is about creating the
“fund” of concepts or “social capital” that is needed for peace. This, by the way,
is a major reason we advocate for local intervention for virtues development
rather than what some might call “expert” intervention by people from other
lands. We have confidence that the introduction of virtues education, with an
emphasis on forgiveness, is a moral good because all peoples in all lands share
the essence of friendship and forgiveness and the proper expression of these. The
expression of them differs across world communities. As we leave the student
instruction to the local teachers, we avoid a variety of culturally imposed errors.
Now that we have a general understanding of the concept of friendship, let us
turn to the next section, a discussion of anger and its psychological effects.
Anger and Its Effects
For Aristotle, virtues exist in a “golden mean” between two extremes.19 For
example, courage exists between the extremes of cowardice and reckless bra-
vado. Friendship, similarly, exists between the extremes of a cloying depend-
ence and separation of people by hatred and anger. The latter extreme is our
focus here.
Even anger itself can be seen as existing within a mean of complete san-
guinity to rage. Anger’s mean, or a short-lived exasperation at the imperfec-
tions of the world that can energize a person and motivate a quest for justice,
is not our concern here. Instead, the extreme of deep and long-lasting anger
is our concern, the kind that can be implicated in psychopathology, destroyed
relationships, and war and violence on the social level. In other words, our
focus is on toxic anger, the kind that can take root in conditions of societal
injustice and contribute back to even more injustice. We see this in Belfast,
where the children learn the lessons of prejudice and hatred at early ages, with
a consequence of continued violence within the interface areas of the city.
Anger and Children

A thorough examination of anger in children and youth is beyond the scope
of this chapter. Our intent is modest: to show how what we call toxic anger
is related to a host of undesirable characteristics. We have chosen one well-
established psychiatric disorder, oppositional defiant disorder (ODD), to dis-
cuss. ODD is a diagnostic category of the American Psychiatric Association
that is associated with the following anger-related symptoms: the child or

youth often loses temper, argues frequently with adults, frequently defies adult
authority, annoys others, blames others for what is one’s own fault, and is often
spiteful, angry, and resentful. A child must exhibit at least four such symptoms
over a six-month period to be diagnosed with ODD.
Research on children and youth who have been diagnosed with ODD
shows that the children, compared with those without the diagnosis, have
more suicide attempts,20 greater adjustment problems at home and in school,
higher rates of depression and anxiety, and relationships characterized by high
conflict,21 and are at greater risk for drug use in adolescence.22 A recent study
of young adult drivers in the United States showed that those with a pattern
of aggressive driving, which can put the driver and innocent victims at risk
for injury or death, had a higher prevalence of ODD than those who were not
aggressive drivers.23 It should be noted that aggressive driving, what the locals
in Belfast call “joy riding,” is a persistent problem on the streets in that city late
at night.
If left untreated, ODD can lead to conduct disorder, perhaps the most
serious of the childhood disorders because of its symptoms of aggression and
violence.24 Clinicians observe that ODD can emerge as early as ages three or
four and should be treated by early elementary school. If left undiagnosed
or untreated, the anger and opposition can become exceptionally difficult to
reverse by adolescence and adulthood.25 Our intent is not to suggest that most
problems in Belfast are centered on ODD or that ODD is the major pressing
problem in need of amelioration. Instead, we have chosen only one of sev-
eral childhood disorders associated with excessive anger to show its severe and
disruptive consequences.26
Countering Toxic Anger with Forgiveness Therapy and Education
Whenever we are faced with an extreme expression of a virtue, such as cow-

ardice rather than courage, it would be ideal if there were a corrective to the
extreme position. This is where psychology can come into play. Psychothera-
pists have developed a number of programs to counter a variety of excesses,
whether it be excessive worry, drinking, or anger. We discuss forgiveness ther-
apy and education as an antidote to toxic anger and as a contribution to stra-
tegic peacebuilding on the social level. Prior to that discussion, let us try to be
clear on our meaning of the term forgiveness.
What Forgiveness Is and Is Not

Forgiveness as a human action toward another who was unjust has ancient
origins. The oldest preserved account of one person forgiving another is in the
Book of Genesis (chapters 37–45) in the Hebrew Bible. In that account, Joseph
was horribly mistreated by his jealous brother and ten half-brothers. When
he rose to political influence in Egypt, all of his half-brothers, not knowing
him, requested help with famine relief. After showing considerable anger and
ambivalence toward them, he eventually wept, hugged them, and uncondition-
ally forgave them. His forgiveness and subsequent generosity helped found the
Hebrew nation. His one act of forgiveness is a striking example of how such
mercy can improve the conditions of an entire social group.
A somewhat similar story of forgiveness, that of the prodigal son, occurs in
the New Testament (Luke 15:11–32). An ungrateful son asked prematurely for his
inheritance from his wealthy father. After squandering the gift on reckless living
in a foreign land, he returned repentantly to his father. Before the son could ask
for forgiveness, the father ran to him, embraced him, and forgave him. As in the
Hebrew story, the forgiveness was loving and unconditional, with the forgiver
not asking for an apology or any other recompense prior to forgiving. Somewhat
similar stories can be found in Islamic and Buddhist traditions.27
Even though the origins of the concept of forgiveness are within ancient
religious traditions, that concept and its applications need not follow one par-
ticular religious tradition, or any religion for that matter. Are not the origins of
justice within ancient religious traditions? Yet people practice justice as they
wish, some within religious contexts, others within entirely secular contexts.
In our experience, forgiveness is the same. People are free to choose the world-
views that best support a forgiving response. In fact, the exploration and study
of forgiveness within the academy has taken a decidedly academic turn lately,
as we will see shortly.
In modern philosophy, expositions on person-to-person forgiving are con-
sistent with the ancient conceptions. In Joanna North’s well-known essay, she
presents three conditions during forgiveness: (1) the offender acted unjustly,
(2) the forgiver reduces negative reactions such as resentment, and (3) the for-
giver institutes or restores goodness, such as compassion, benevolence, and
love (agape), toward the offender.28 Joanna North and Margaret Holmgren
emphasize the unconditional nature of forgiving. While North emphasized the
principle of moral love underlying a response of forgiving, Holmgren empha-
sized respect.29
The gist of forgiving is that it is a response of mercy toward someone who
acted unfairly. The mercy takes two forms, the reduction or cessation of nega-
tive responses and the deliberate (willed) offering of a principled moral stance
that might be love and respect.
To forgive is not the same as to condone or excuse. In forgiveness, the one
offering mercy knows that the other acted unfairly. In excusing, the one so doing
finds a mitigating circumstance to conclude that the act, in fact, was not unfair.
If James steals Melissa’s car and she eventually realizes that he did so to rush a
bleeding child to the hospital, her evaluation of his behavior is likely to change.
She would not view James as having done anything that requires forgiveness.
Thus, to excuse or condone is not to offer mercy to the other; forgiveness is the
deliberate act of offering mercy in the face of the other person’s injustice.
To forgive is not the same as to forget. We realize that the expression “for-
give and forget” is pervasive, but we have never seen one instance in which
someone who forgives develops a sort of moral amnesia. When people forgive,
they seem to remember in new ways. Thus, if people are fearful of forgiveness
lest they become vulnerable to the other’s tricks once again, they should realize
that forgetting is not an inherent aspect of forgiveness.
To forgive is not the same as to reconcile. Forgiveness is a virtue that is
developed and expressed through the will of one person toward another or oth-
ers. Reconciliation is an interaction between two or more people. James may
want to reconcile with Melissa, but it is not entirely within his will. Melissa
must respond to his gestures of forgiveness and learn to trust him, and both
must come together in good will if reconciliation is to be realized. Thus, for-
giveness is one person’s act of mercy toward another, whereas reconciliation
requires two or more parties for completion.
To forgive does not mean to ignore justice. A grave mistake is to think of
forgiveness and justice as opposed to each other. This is what we call either-or
thinking, and it could render forgiveness not only irrelevant but also danger-
ous. For example, suppose James had a violent temper toward Melissa. If she
could not protect herself when she forgives, that would be absurd. We should,
instead, use “both-and” thinking. For example, if Melissa deliberately dents
James’s car, he can forgive her and still present her with the auto body shop’s
bill. Thus, there is nothing inherent in forgiveness that negates justice. The
two can and should be practiced together, depending on the circumstances. In
Northern Ireland, as one person forgives someone from “the other side,” he or
she can and should ask for fairness.
The Cognitive Structure of Unconditionality and

Its Connection to Friendship
An early development in our group’s construction of a psychological theory of

forgiveness was to ascertain the cognitive structure that underlies a forgiveness
response. We do not mean to imply that forgiveness is entirely or even prima-
rily a cognitive activity. We wish to imply, from a psychological and educational
perspective, that forgiveness may require certain cognitive capacities before a
therapist or educator introduces the concept. This is important for the con-
struction of appropriate educational material from a developmental perspec-
tive. One central underlying cognitive structure to a forgiveness response is
what we call unconditionality.30
Unconditionality is the understanding that all people are equal, regardless
of personal, relational, or environmental characteristics (e.g., personality, social
skills, athletic ability, or even social privilege). This understanding is based on
the Piagetian concept of identity: the understanding that A + 0 = A, or that
something nonessential added to the first value does not alter it. Piaget’s well-
known experiments with conservation demonstrate this principle. Consider an
experimenter who pours water from a short, wide container into a tall, narrow
container. The structures of the containers are the “0” component, and the vol-
ume of water is the “A” component. In other words, the volume of the water is
not in any way altered whether it is in a short or a tall container.
Unconditionality arises from this basic cognitive skill of identity. A person

is a person whether in a short, wide house or a tall, narrow house. This insight,
which a child can make, then leads to a belief in the moral principle of inherent
worth, the conviction that people are in essence equal, despite varying psycho-
logical characteristics, including behavior that may be unfair. A person is a
person of worth whether he or she is poor, struggling intellectually in school, or
behaving badly, even to the one doing the thinking with the underlying cogni-
tive structure of unconditionality. Offering forgiveness involves acting on this
social-cognitive understanding and the moral principle of inherent worth that
develops from it.
Let us now suppose that James and Melissa are sufficiently cognitively devel-
oped according to the foregoing descriptions. James can use the cognitive struc-
ture of unconditionality and apply it in the moral realm so that he sees Melissa
as possessing inherent worth. On seeing her worth, he may wish moral good
for her. As Melissa does the same toward James, she will wish his good. When
both are willing moral good toward the other and when both are aware of this,
they are friends by Aristotle’s definition of friendship. Of course, insight is not a
sufficient condition for the practice of virtue, but without it, a full expression of a
virtue, including one’s own part in a relation of friendship, is probably unlikely.
The Effectiveness of Forgiveness Therapy and Education
We present in the list below a summary of a portion of our forgiveness interven-

tion efforts over the years. In every case, we use the gold standard of research
design, with randomization to treatment condition, pretesting, posttesting,
follow-up testing, and the use of psychometrically sound measures. Across all
twelve of the studies listed, we see the following pattern: (1) regardless of the
age of the participants, which ranged from as young as six to the elderly years,
those who have forgiveness education or therapy generally fare better emo-
tionally than the control group; (2) when anger is incorporated as a depend-
ent measure, it invariably declines in the forgiveness condition relative to the
control condition; (3) the decrease in anger, anxiety, and depression is usually
clinically important in that the decline is often to normal levels where clinically
compromised levels were observed at pretest. In sum, forgiveness education
and therapy are effective in reducing anger and related emotions in a statisti-
cally significant and a clinically significant way.
EXAMPLES OF EXPERIMENTAL STUDIES

Incest survivors. The forgiveness group became emotionally healthier
than the control group after fourteen months. Differences between the
groups were observed for depression, anxiety, hope, and self-esteem.
The results were maintained in a fourteen-month follow-up. Study:
Freedman, Suzanne R., and Robert D. Enright. “Forgiveness as an
Intervention Goal with Incest Survivors.” Journal of Consulting and
Clinical Psychology 64, no. 5 (1996): 983–992.
Men hurt by the abortion decision of the partner. The forgiveness group
became emotionally healthier than the control group, similar to
the above study. Differences between the groups were observed for
anger, anxiety, grief, and forgiveness. The results were maintained
at a twelve-week follow-up. Study: Coyle, Catherine T., and Robert D.
Enright. “Forgiveness Intervention with Postabortion Men.” Journal of
Consulting and Clinical Psychology 65, no. 6 (1997): 1042–1046.
Drug rehabilitation. The forgiveness group became emotionally
healthier than the control group, similar to the above two studies.
The experimental participants’ need for drugs declined substantially,
relative to the control group. Results were maintained at a four-month
follow-up. Study: Lin, Wei Fen, David Mack, Robert D. Enright, Dean
Krahn, and Thomas W. Baskin. “Effects of Forgiveness Therapy on
Anger, Mood, and Vulnerability to Substance Use among Inpatient
Substance-Dependent Clients.” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 72, no. 6 (2004): 1114–1121.
Couples at risk for divorce. The forgiveness group as well as the group
following Aaron Beck’s cognitive behavioral therapy showed that
the couples drew closer to one another with improved relationships
following treatment. Study: Knutson, J. A. “Strengthening Marriages
through the Practice of Forgiveness.” Doctoral dissertation, University
of Wisconsin–Madison, 2003.
Cardiac patients. Again, the experimental (forgiveness) group became
emotionally healthier than the control group. At a four-month
follow-up, the experimental group had more efficiently functioning
hearts than the control group. Study: Waltmann, M. A., D. C.
Russell, C. T. Coyle, R. D. Enright, A. C. Holter, and C. M. Swoboda.
“The Effects of a Forgiveness Intervention on Patients with
Coronary Artery Disease.” Psychology and Health 24, no. 1 (2009):
11–27.
Emotionally abused women. Results are similar to the above studies in
terms of emotional health including decreased anxiety, depression,
post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms, and increased self-
esteem. Study: Reed, Gayle L., and Robert D. Enright. “The Effects of
Forgiveness Therapy on Depression, Anxiety, and Posttraumatic Stress
for Women after Spousal Emotional Abuse.” Journal of Consulting and
Clinical Psychology 74, no. 5 (2006): 920–929.
Terminally ill, elderly cancer patients. After a four-week intervention, the
forgiveness group showed greater improvement in psychological health
(less anger, more hopefulness toward the future) than the control
group. Physical indicators of both groups showed declines. Study:
Hanson, Mary, Robert D. Enright, and Thomas W. Baskin. “A Palliative
Care Intervention in Forgiveness Therapy for Elderly Terminally Ill
Cancer Patients.” Journal of Palliative Care (forthcoming).
At-risk middle school and high school students in Seoul, Korea. The
findings are similar to the above study. Study: Park, J. H. “Validating
a Forgiveness Education Program for Adolescent Female Aggressive

Victims in Korea.” Doctoral dissertation, University of Wisconsin–
Madison, 2003.
First-grade (Primary 3) children in Belfast. Those in the experimental
(forgiveness) group became less angry relative to those in the control
group. Randomization is by group; analyses are on each individual.
Study: Enright, Robert D., Jeanette A. Knutson Enright, Anthony C.
Holter, Thomas W. Baskin, and Casey Knutson. “Waging Peace through
Forgiveness in Belfast, Northern Ireland II: Educational Programs
for Mental Health Improvement of Children.” Journal of Research in
Education 17 (2007): 63–78.
In light of the potential importance of forgiveness for strategic peacebuild-

ing in Northern Ireland and in light of the importance of the concept of agape
within forgiveness, we turn next to a challenge to the Aristotelian project.
Developing the Aristotelian Conceptions of Friendship and Love
In the beginning of this chapter, we claimed that Aristotle has a deeper chal-
lenge to peace than many contemporary thinkers because of his idea that peo-
ple should be friends with one another, whereas contemporary accounts rarely
go further than a call for tolerance, mutual restraint, or justice. We now would
like to claim that Aristotle’s end point of mutual respect and love (philia) does
not go quite far enough. Three points are needed to move the Aristotelian end
point to a more accurately moral conclusion
First, his concept of friendship based on mutual respect is underdevel-
oped because it is unconditional only to a point. For Aristotle, one is friends
with another because that other person is good. Although this may seem like
a conditional rather than an unconditional statement, we think that it is more
akin to an unconditional concept because, once the other obtains goodness, it
is more like a settled disposition (hexis), and thus the friend is unlikely to stray
from the goodness. Thus, for Aristotle, one offers good will to another because
he or she is also the bearer of good will. Kant extended this idea with his claim
that we have good will toward another because he or she is capable of good will.
Forgiveness challenges us to extend good will even further to unconditionality,
to love those who may be incapable of good will at the present time. Our goal,
like Aristotle’s, is mutual friendship, but a citizen of the city should consider
extending love, in the form of unconditional forgiveness, even to the unlovable.
This would include enemies from different communities who have fought one
another, as is the case in Belfast. Forgiveness has a way of breaking cycles of
resentment, which in turn may break cycles of violence.
Second, friendship itself needs to be redefined in light of our current
knowledge of forgiveness and love. Perhaps we should not see friendship as
the mutual exchange of philia, a natural form of love because all to whom it is
offered are lovable, and instead see love as the univocal gift of agape in the hope
of a mutual exchange of that agape. Love, in other words, begets love in return.
The love extended in agape is service love, not so natural as philia, storge, or
eros, and thus more difficult and challenging.
Third, agape, unconditionally expressed by individuals, creates one more
problem for the Aristotelian program. He placed the whole (in this case, the
city) as more important than the parts (in this case, the citizens). For Aristotle,
the parts derive their meaning, their very identity, from the whole. Yet as we
have argued, the individual’s unconditional expression of agape can give the
community its distinctive character in the expression of friendship. Therefore,
the individual (the parts) primarily (but not exclusively because we do not wish
to engage in either-or thinking) determines the character of the whole (the city)
and not the reverse. The primacy of the individual is evident in the free choice
of each person to either act lovingly or not, to act in a forgiving way or not. Edu-
cating the citizens for goodness takes on even more importance, we think, with
this model because without good training, good citizens are not developed.
Without good citizens the character of the city is at risk, which further puts the
citizens at risk. If the children of Belfast are not exposed to the concept of agape
and allowed to choose to appropriate it toward members of the out-group, then
what kind of a city will the children build when it is their turn to lead?
This new concept of friendship as agape more than philia seems to be
consistent with Aristotle’s teaching that we must set the target as high and as
truthfully as we can so that we might eventually hit it. We contend that some
people at some point in the peace process will have to bear the pain of injus-
tice, that is, exercise agape prior to such an overture from the other side. Such
moral action is a way to stop the cycle of revenge and be a conduit of good for
subsequent generations.31 The idea of bearing the pain is a difficult concept
because it asks people to suffer on others’ behalf with no apparent payoff for
the sufferer. The practical question is how many in a given community will
deepen their idea of love and friendship to include unconditional suffering
for the good of the “enemy.” What might happen in Belfast if teachers, par-
ents, and students took this idea of bearing the pain seriously enough to apply
it in a practical peacebuilding strategy? The possibility of civic friendship
seems much more concrete and attainable if the students can learn and prac-
tice bearing the pain through agape.
Interlude
To summarize, the children of Belfast are angry. Friendship in communities

needs to be a target, even if seen as a high and difficult target, because with-
out it, societies are at risk for the development of toxic anger, factions, and
stereotyping. Social science has convincingly shown the deleterious effects of
toxic anger. When such toxic anger rises in individual hearts, forgiveness is a
powerful antidote. Social science certainly does suggest this on the individual
and small relational level. We know what happens in control groups where par-
ticipants have not yet had the opportunity to practice forgiveness: anger usually
remains or can escalate. Thus, one necessity for correcting the extremes of
toxic anger is forgiveness, properly understood and practiced. If anger reduc-
tion through forgiveness can be appropriated accurately and over time in
Belfast, might this contribute a powerful strategy to the peacebuilding process?
Forgiveness Education with Children in Belfast
If forgiveness therapy with adults is effective in reducing anger and improv-

ing emotional and relational health, might it be the case that helping children
learn about forgiveness is an effective deterrent to toxic anger at the present
time and eventually in adulthood? If many children in a war-torn community
such as Belfast learn about forgiveness and learn to practice it well, might this
have an impact on the relational health of that community? If children learn
at an early age that all people have inherent worth, might this form the basis
of reducing negative stereotypes of others who have formed factions in the
society? Might such knowledge of others’ inherent worth form the basis of an
emerging friendship where before there were only factions? And might not
such friendships contribute to a sustainable peace settlement?
In 2002, we thought it important to begin answering some of these ques-
tions. We operated from the following assumptions.
1. Children should learn forgiveness slowly and in an atmosphere of

interest and fun. After all, if a coach wishes to develop, say, soccer
skills in children, does he or she drill them until they lose their taste
for the sport, or does the coach start slowly with a bit of fun to show
to the children the beauty of the sport?
2. We need to create curricula based on developmental psychology
principles so that the early grades get a more simplified version and
the later grades get an increasingly more subtle and challenging view
of the virtue of forgiveness.
3. We need to create a curriculum guide so that the children’s classroom
teacher can rather easily deliver the lessons in an effective manner.
4. If we can create useful teaching tools from the earliest to the latest
grades, then students who have had forgiveness education for many
years may more naturally appropriate forgiveness when faced with
injustice. Such students may be less likely to confuse forgiveness with
condoning or excusing, forgetting, or reconciling.
5. Ours is not a quick fix, thus rendering it instantly unpopular. We
suspect that it will take two generations of students going through ten
to twelve years of schooling in forgiveness before a community impact
is realized from this effort. Yet what is twenty years compared with
sectarian strife that can and does last for centuries?
6. As more students implement forgiveness and continue to do so into
adulthood, the normative social relations within that community may
begin to alter toward more positive interactions. In other words, the
quality of justice sought should shift to a wiser justice with a more sat-
isfying outcome than usually is the case within societies divided by fac-
tions hostile toward one another. Of course, we do not expect a utopia,
but we are expecting a shift in civility and perhaps even in friendship
in some sectors of society.
As a postscript to this section, we are well aware of existing educational and

community based programs designed to foster mutual understanding between
and among factions in Northern Ireland. One of the most widely used social
and peace education programs for children in Northern Ireland is Education
for Mutual Understanding (EMU). The Education Reform Order of 1989 pro-
moted programs such as EMU to “encourage respect for self and others, the
building of relationships, and understanding of conflict” and other themes
associated with peace and reconciliation.32 However, as early as 1990, the man-
datory EMU curriculum had received considerable scrutiny and criticism from
teachers and scholars who argued that it lacked a strong conceptual frame-
work, did not address the deeper issues of intergroup conflict, and provided
insufficient training for teachers.33
Forgiveness education directly addresses several of the criticisms levied
against existing educational programs such as EMU. First, without forgiveness
being a deliberate and deep part of such endeavors, the curricula are basically
attempts to change minds and not primarily change hearts. We do not think it
possible to create friendships through the intellect, through understanding pri-
marily. In our case, the exercises of helping children use their cognitive schema
of unconditionality to foster the insight of inherent worth of all people are only
the starting point for a softened heart. Second, such curricular efforts must be
persistent, involving an intensive learning experience in any given academic
year. Having children from each side get together a few times a year is wonder-
ful, but not sufficient. Having the children hear about forgiveness for a lesson
or two and then galloping off to other concepts is not sufficient. Third, the
forgiveness and friendship learning need to take place over time, as we have
stated here, over generations.
It is important to also acknowledge the intentional, interdenominational
communities throughout Northern Ireland, such as the Corrymeela Commu-
nity, the Christian Renewal Center, and the Columbanus Community of rec-
onciliation, that continue to espouse forgiveness as a way to promote peace
and reconciliation.34 These communities provide a powerful lived example of
intergroup harmony, and their commitment to the political and social aspects
of forgiveness is an integral component for sustained peace in Northern Ire-
land. Current forgiveness education in Northern Ireland extends this impor-
tant work to young children—the future parents, neighbors, and leaders in the
country—and joins these communities in acknowledging that sincere friend-
ship is a powerful outcome of interpersonal forgiveness. Forgiveness educa-
tion for young children, in tandem with interreligious and cross-community
programs, represent a unique response to the challenge “to create a culture of
forgiveness.”35
We now turn to a description of one of the curricula, in this case the second
grade curriculum, as an example of what happens within the Belfast schools.
Example of the Second-Grade (Primary 4 in Belfast) Curriculum

A seventeen-lesson curriculum guide for teachers of second-grade children was
written by a licensed psychologist and a developmental psychologist.36 Each les-
son takes approximately forty-five minutes or less and occurs approximately
once per week for the entire class. Additional activities in the guide are pro-
vided if a teacher wishes to extend the learning.
In the early years of the program, the teachers were introduced to the
ideas of forgiveness and the curricular materials in a workshop directed by the
authors of the curriculum or others associated with the project. We envision
other methods as the work expands. Audio recordings of the workshop, for
example, may become available for download.
Forgiveness is taught by the classroom teachers primarily through the
medium of story. Through stories such as Disney’s The Fox and the Hound,
Cinderella, Dumbo, and Snow White, the children learn that conflicts arise and
we have a wide range of options to respond to unfair treatment. The curriculum
guide is divided into three parts. First, the teacher introduces central concepts
that underlie forgiveness—such as the inherent worth of all people, kindness,
respect, generosity, and moral love—without mentioning the word forgiveness.
In part two, the children hear stories in which characters display instances of
inherent worth, kindness, respect, generosity, and moral love—or their oppo-
sites, such as unkindness, disrespect, and stinginess—toward another charac-
ter who was unjust. In part three, the teacher helps the children, if they choose,
apply the five principles toward a person who has hurt them.
Throughout the implementation of this program, teachers make the impor-
tant distinction between learning about forgiveness and choosing to practice it in
certain contexts. The program is careful to emphasize the distinction between
forgiveness and reconciliation. A child does not reconcile with someone who is
potentially harmful, for example. The teachers impress on the children that the
exercises in part three are not necessary but completely optional.
The first-grade curriculum is similar, with the exception of the choice of
stories. In first grade, the centerpiece stories are from Dr. Seuss.
The Curriculum in Subsequent Grade Levels

In grade 3 (primary 5) the focus is more deliberately on the concept of agape.
By grade 5 (primary 7), the curriculum challenges the students to consider
not only the theme of forgiving but also the themes of seeking to be forgiven
and receiving forgiveness. By secondary school, the students will be asked to
develop a deep understanding of friendship and how forgiveness can play a
part in fostering it. By later secondary school, the students will be challenged to
bring their learning into their community for the purpose of healing misunder-
standing, prejudices, and hatred that have grown and established themselves
over centuries. The students, of course, will be taught the virtue of temperance,
the golden mean that any one person is limited and can only do so much. It
is the addition of others like themselves, those helping foster forgiveness and
friendship, who can make an impact on the community.
What Has Been Accomplished in the Belfast Schools

In 2002, we started forgiveness education with thirty-six children in three class-
rooms on the primary 3 (ages six to seven) level. In 2006–2007, teachers were
delivering the forgiveness curriculum to over 1,800 students in seventy-five class-
rooms in Belfast. The program, in other words, grew very rapidly as we added
new schools and new grade levels within schools. The preliminary research with
classrooms randomized to the experimental (forgiveness education) or control
(no forgiveness education until the next year) groups has shown a statistically
significant decrease in anger and psychological depression favoring the students
in the experimental groups.37 The children tend to come into the program with
anger that approaches the clinical (psychologically unhealthy) level. After the
program, the children’s level of anger begins to fall toward more normal levels.
We have the technology in place to train teachers in the art of forgiveness.
We have teacher curriculum guides that the teachers find easy to use. We have
feedback from teachers that the curriculum is fun for the children, relatively easy
to implement, and produces excellent results from the teachers’ viewpoint. One
important piece of evidence that educators value the forgiveness curriculum is
this: no teacher who has begun the program has stopped teaching it in subsequent
years. The social scientific findings are consonant with the teachers’ reports.
Skepticism toward Our Approach
Throughout our twenty-two years of studying forgiveness, we have found that

some people consider the act of forgiving to be useless at the least and quite
dangerous at the other extreme. Now that we are linking forgiveness to com-
munity peace efforts, we suspect that greater controversy will ensue. Our pur-
pose here is to address three kinds of criticism: (1) that leveled at forgiveness
itself, (2) that leveled at friendship as a basis of a good community, and (3) that
leveled at the interaction of forgiveness and community friendship. We start
with forgiveness itself.
Skeptical Views of the Concept of Forgiveness and Its Education

Perhaps we are in denial, but it is our firm conviction that every criticism we
have ever heard against the concept of forgiveness has emanated from a mis-
understanding of what forgiveness is or what it accomplishes. We consider five
such skeptical views here.
1. Forgiveness as inappropriate: education in our war-torn community will turn
my son into a wimp. He needs to know how to fight. We received this criticism
from a very concerned father who served in a paramilitary army. We suggested

two new ways to consider forgiveness. First, his son will be part of a classroom
effort. He will not be the only learner, thus he is not likely to be singled out as
a wimp. Second, forgiveness education teaches the quest for justice along with
forgiveness, lessening the chance that practicing mercy alone will make his son
vulnerable. The father accepted these arguments as reasonable, after a heated
two-hour debate, and allowed our entrance into his neighborhood for the pur-
pose of training teachers in the art of forgiveness.
2. Forgiveness as immoral: forgiveness thwarts justice because of its empha-
sis on mercy. Aristotle challenged us all not to practice any virtue in isolation.
Mercy needs justice to ensure fairness, and justice needs mercy to temper its
demands. If we think of forgiveness as a gift given with good intent to a wrong-
doer, we can see that the virtue is not immoral.
3. Forgiveness as dangerous: if my child forgives, he or she will be vulnerable to
the bullies in school. Forgiveness and reconciliation are not the same. A child
can consider forgiving the bully and then watch his or her back (and report
the bully to school personnel). In other words, a child is free to offer the gift of
forgiveness whenever he or she chooses; reconciliation would come when the
injuring party recognizes the wrongdoing and takes steps for genuine change.
4. Forgiveness as weakness: forgiveness is for those who are inferior and cannot
assert their rights in a powerful way. This is Nietzsche’s challenge to those who
study and practice forgiveness. We think that this view is flawed because it fails
to acknowledge the courage necessary to forgive in the face of deep emotional
pain and injustice. When we realize that a forgiving person can and should
seek justice, the criticism seems to lose its strength.
5. Forgiveness education as brain-washing: forgiveness education is a form of indoc-
trination and should be avoided. We dissent from this view for three reasons. First,
moral education has a history going back thousands of years. It is not moral edu-
cation per se, but how the teachers convey the knowledge may be central to the
criticism. Our programs employ the children’s actual classroom teachers, who
know well those children’s religious beliefs, cultural norms, and ethnic customs,
thus avoiding indoctrination. Second, does genuine forgiveness bind a forgiver
(and the forgiven) in autocratic slavery or set him or her free? We leave the answer
to the reader. Third, if we know that we have something good to impart to chil-
dren, and try to impart it with good educational approaches, who is the uncon-
structive one, the teacher or the one discouraging or preventing the teaching?
Our addressing the skeptics of forgiveness is only part of the equation.
We now turn to those who criticize friendship as a central basis for good
communities.
Skeptical View on Friendship as a Necessary Condition

for Good Communities
1. Politics is the art of the possible. Character building puts a restraint on the pos-
sible and therefore a focus on friendship and virtue is not practical. It was Machiavelli
who claimed that politics is the art of the possible, deemphasizing virtue. Here
is one example of how far his philosophy took him from virtue. In his most
famous work, The Prince, Machiavelli instructs princes not to keep faith with
men because they will not keep faith with him. Here is why we should question
the assertion: he seemed to pride himself on observing history and contem-
porary society in a sort of scientifically accurate way. Yet he never showed one
instance of a successful society that was based deliberately on mistrust.
2. The greatest power causes the greatest changes. Virtue, with its emphasis on
temperance, or the golden mean, may thwart power. This argument asserts that
virtues, including forgiveness, may get in the way of positive social change. We
would like the reader to consider, however, whether power by itself is actually
a desirable quality for communities. Power, like wealth, can be used for either
moral or immoral ends. Thus, those who possess either power or wealth need
virtues, like forgiveness, to temper excessive expressions of power and guide
them, lest they degenerate into the immoral.
3. To define the city as an affiliation of partnerships toward mutual sharing in
the good life is too restrictive. People may come together for any number of reasons
that please them. This view confuses a given person’s opinion about the city and
its ultimate purpose. Even if a person uses the city for personal convenience,
it does not follow that this is its ultimate purpose. For example, a scholar may
say that her chair is a place on which books should be stacked, even though its
ultimate purpose is a place on which to sit. The good life is achieved by friend-
ship within and among partnerships.
4. Even if the city’s ultimate purpose is the good life, it can be the individual
pursuit of that life rather than a partnership of friends. The good life by definition
is interactive, including others besides the self. If a community has a history of
misunderstanding, it becomes all the more necessary to have an emphasis on
peacebuilding, with forgiveness being a bridge between the difficulties of the
past and current social reconstruction.
5. Even if the city’s ultimate purpose includes partnerships, it need not follow
that a partnership of partnerships is required. After all, we all have partnerships in
families, places of employment and worship. Those partnerships, as Aristotle sug-
gests, may not realize justice unless all work together under the law to achieve
that justice. A focus on group-to-group forgiveness may make the quest for and
the realization of justice more likely primarily because those who are less angry
may see more clearly to the fair solutions.38
Skeptical Views of the Interplay of Forgiveness and Friendship

1. Even if friendship as partnerships is one of a city’s endpoints, it does not follow
that forgiveness is involved. After all, people can practice restraint and tolerance with-
out forgiveness. Even if people can get along without forgiveness, they may find
it difficult to conquer anger without forgiveness when injustices are deep and
long-lasting in a society. Restraint and tolerance may still include anger brew-
ing beneath the surface that can easily surface at the hint of further unfairness.
Even if the necessity of forgiveness is not established in communities, it is a
powerful resource for fostering restraint and tolerance.
2. There is no such thing as group forgiveness. Thus, forgiveness as part of a

partnership of partnerships is unrealistic. Philosopher Trudy Govier makes the
philosophical argument that societies can seem to be angry and revengeful.39
They possess a certain negative affective and behaviorally normative quality to
them. Why do we presume that societies are only capable of possessing nega-
tive qualities and not that they can possess positive normative qualities such as
forgiveness and mercy? For Govier, then, group forgiveness can be a reality. We
take a subtly different but related view. In our view, the community norms of
forgiveness and mercy may emerge when a significant number of the citizens
understand, appreciate, and practice those virtues. Let us be clear. We are not
presuming that just as an individual can forgive, a community can forgive.
Instead, we are arguing that as more and more people appreciate and prac-
tice forgiveness, then forgiveness as a norm is more likely to emerge in that
community.
3. Even if societies can possess merciful qualities, how realistic is this to expect?
Most people probably can give examples of revengeful societies, but can any of us
describe an actual society that deliberately cultivates friendship, mercy, and forgive-
ness? The Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa is one encour-
aging example of the morally possible being implemented for good.40 Even
though that bold social experiment has not yet led to completely satisfying out-
comes, it stands as a pioneering model of what can occur within societies beset
by violence.41
Our forgiveness education model now has underlying psychological theory
to explain why it should work, teacher curriculum manuals, a workshop train-
ing program that teachers find useful, scientific evidence that the programs
are effective in reducing anger in children, and a technology for offering this
approach to teachers within many communities. Forgiveness is an ideal, but it
is also a part of practical politics.
4. Aristotle suggested that friendship is fostered by the virtue of love. His concep-
tion of love was of the natural kind, philia. Forgiveness involves what C. S. Lewis
would call a higher form of love, agape.42 It seems irrational to advocate the
cultivation of a higher form (a form perhaps more difficult to attain) to foster
a lower form of love. This would be true only if we adhered to Aristotle’s con-
ception of love. Yet we have already redefined friendship to incorporate and
accommodate agape. Thus, we are advocating the development of agape in
individual children so that as adults they can apply that agape to community
partnerships.
5. Even if forgiveness can be a tool for fostering friendship within communities, it
seems to be useful only in extreme cases, such as societies at war for years or genera-
tions, because of its emphasis on deep anger borne out of severe injustice. Although
it is true that the most recent forgiveness efforts have centered on violent and
impoverished communities, why should we expect that a harmonious society
will not suffer injustices of an unexpected kind in the future? Forgiveness edu-
cation for societal friendship may act to prevent the creation of societal factions
and as an incentive to perhaps enrich existing friendships. After all, even the
best of friends disappoint one another at times.
6. Isn’t your approach simply a traditionally conservative one that blames the
victim, places the burden of recovery on that victim, and ignores social program-
ming? The accusation seems to be taking the either-or form of thinking rather
than the both-and approach that we advocated earlier in the chapter. Just as it
would be extreme and unwarranted to focus exclusively on character develop-
ment of citizens, it is equally extreme and unwarranted to think that social eth-
ics and programming will solve all social ills. Our model is motivated by what
we as psychologists can bring and by the rarity of focus on virtue ethics among
scholars and practitioners of peacebuilding.
The Final Question
What is the end point for the program described here? The practice of forgive-
ness and friendship, as Aquinas reminds us in his Summa, are not the final
ends because virtues are more like the arrows that move toward a target; they
are not the target itself. The virtues in this case are means to the end of peace-
ful relationships, within the realization that this is a fallen world and so peace
must be taken in its reasonable, realistic sense. As Aquinas further reminds us,
the ultimate end point is not only peaceful relations with others but also happi-
ness with God. Given that both sides of the conflict within Belfast are Christian,
then this Thomistic end point is not unreasonable. Perhaps one of our next
essays will center on Thomas Merton’s wisdom: we are not at peace with others
because we are not at peace within ourselves (anger, unforgiveness); we are not
at peace within ourselves because we are not at peace with God.
The Final Challenge
We applaud those courageous peace workers who strive for better laws, an
equitable distribution of goods, a valid verification of weapons, and all that
can make for peace. Our essay here is not meant to foster either-or thinking
but to encourage both-and thinking and action. Because our approach is not
a sufficient condition for peace, neither are the social ethics and public policy
approaches sufficient for a lasting peace if members of communities remain
wounded and bitter.
We are not offering a new approach here, but a very old one, as the ideas
of community friendship and forgiveness are of ancient origin. What is new is
a reawakening to the potential of these two ideas and their association within
war-torn communities.
In the Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle states that to be just is not enough.
Communities need friendship.43 If a basis of peace is friendship, then a basis
of friendship is the growth in virtue. A central virtue that may foster friendship
and therefore community peace is forgiveness, perhaps a necessary but not a
sufficient condition for a stable peace. Postaccord societies need forgiveness in
particular to counter years of toxic anger and make friendship a reality.
NOTES
1. Petersen, Roger Dale. 2002. Understanding Ethnic Violence: Fear, Hatred, and
Resentment in Twentieth-Century Eastern Europe, Cambridge Studies in Comparative
Politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
2. Kaufman, Stuart J. 2001. Modern Hatreds: The Symbolic Politics of Ethnic War,
Cornell Studies in Security Affairs. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press.
3. For further information on the history of the Troubles, consult the following
sources: Cairns, Ed, and John Darby. 1998. “The Conflict in Northern Ireland: Causes,
Consequences, and Controls.” American Psychologist 53, no. 7: 754–760; Darby, John.
“Conflict in Northern Ireland: A Background Essay.” In Facets of the Conflict in Northern
Ireland, edited by Seamus Dunn. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1995; Muldoon, Orla
T. 2004. “Children of the Troubles: The Impact of Political Violence in Northern
Ireland.” Journal of Social Issues 60, no. 3: 453–468; and Power, P. C., and S. Duffy.
Timetables of Irish History. London: Worth Press, 2001.
4. Darby, “Conflict in Northern Ireland: A Background Essay.”
5. Fay, Marie-Therese, Mike Morrissey, and Marie Smyth. Northern Ireland’s
Troubles: The Human Costs, Contemporary Irish Studies. London: Pluto Press in
association with the Cost of the Troubles Study, 1999.
6. The agreement is also known as the Good Friday Agreement or Belfast
Agreement. It may be found at www.nio.gov.uk/the-agreement.
7. The Agreement at St. Andrews may be found at www.standrewsagreement.org.
8. The Thirteenth Report of the Monitoring Commission may be found at www.
independentmonitoringcommission.org/documents/uploads/thirteenth%report.pdf.
9. Gallagher, Tony. 2004. “After the War Comes Peace? An Examination of the
Impact of the Northern Ireland Conflict on Young People.” Journal of Social Issues 60,
no. 3: 637.
10. Darby, John, and Roger Mac Ginty. The Management of Peace Processes, Ethnic
and Intercommunity Conflict Series. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000; Jarman, Neil.
2004 “Demography, Development and Disorder: Changing Patterns of Interface
Areas.” Belfast: Institute for Conflict Research; and Jarman, Neil. 1999. Displaying
Faith: Orange, Green and Trade Union Banners in Northern Ireland. Belfast: Institute of
Irish Studies Queen’s University of Belfast.
11. For a review of the impact of the Troubles on children, consult the following
sources: Cairns and Darby, “The Conflict in Northern Ireland”; Connolly, P., A. Smith,
and B. Kelly. 2002. Too Young to Notice: The Cultural and Political Awareness of 3–6 Year
Olds in Northern Ireland. Belfast: Community Relations Council; Conroy, John. Belfast
Diary: War as a Way of Life. Boston: Beacon Press, 1987; Gallagher, “After the War
Comes Peace?”; McClenahan, Carol, Ed Cairns, Seamus Dunn, and Valerie Morgan.
1996. “Intergroup Friendships: Integrated and Desegregated Schools in Northern
Ireland.” Journal of Social Psychology 136, no. 5: 549–558; Muldoon, “Children of the
Troubles”; Muldoon, Orla T., Karen Trew, and Rosemary Kilpatrick. 2000. “The Legacy
of the Troubles on the Young People’s Psychological and Social Development and
Their School Life.” Youth & Society 32, no. 1: 6–28; and Trew, Karen. 2004. “Children
and Socio-Cultural Divisions in Northern Ireland.” Journal of Social Issues 60, no. 3:
507–522.
12. This text provides a contemporary account of youth involvement in peace
processes. McEvoy-Levy, Siobhán, Joan B. Kroc Institute for International Peace
Studies, RIREC Project on Post-Accord Peace Building, and Research Initiative on the
Resolution of Ethnic Conflict. 2006. Troublemakers or Peacemakers?: Youth and Post-
Accord Peace Building. Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press.
13. Enright, Robert D., Jeanette A. Knutson Enright, Anthony C. Holter,

Thomas W. Baskin, and Casey Knutson. 2007. “Waging Peace through Forgiveness
in Belfast, Northern Ireland II: Educational Programs for Mental Health
Improvement of Children.” Journal of Research in Education 17: 63–78; Enright,
Robert D., Jeanette A. Knutson Enright, Anthony C. Holter, Thomas W. Baskin, and
Casey Knutson. 2008. “Waging Peace through Forgiveness in Belfast, Northern
Ireland III: Correcting a Production Error and a Case Study.” Journal of Research in
Education 18: 128–131.
14. For an overview of scholarly work pertaining to civic friendship, consult
the following sources: Schollmeier, Paul. 1994. Other Selves: Aristotle on Personal and
Political Friendship, SUNY Series in Ethical Theory. Albany: State University of New
York Press; and Scorza, Jason A. 2004. “Liberal Citizenship and Civic Friendship.”
Political Theory 32, no. 1: 85–108.
15. Budziszewski, J. 1997. Written on the Heart: The Case for Natural Law.
Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press.
16. Quotation marks around “relative to us” emphasize that for Aristotle, the
expression of virtue is rarely perfect and that different people demonstrate different
degrees of that virtue. See, for example, Simon, Yves René Marie, and Vukan Kuic.
1986. The Definition of Moral Virtue. New York: Fordham University Press.
17. We say this with some trepidation, knowing full well that relativist models
pervade the academy at present. We consider relativist models to be a passing fancy
because of the self-contradictions, which are beyond the purview of this chapter, that
exist within them.
18. Galston, William A. 2002. Liberal Pluralism: The Implications of Value
Pluralism for Political Theory and Practice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
19. The term “golden mean” was not originally Aristotle’s term, but is now
attributed to him.
20. Foley, Debra L., David B. Goldston, E. Jane Costello, and Adrian Angold.
2006. “Proximal Psychiatric Risk Factors for Suicidality in Youth: The Great Smoky
Mountains Study.” Archives of General Psychiatry 63, no. 9: 1017–1024.
21. Greene, Ross W., and Robert T. Ammerman. 2006. “Oppositional Defiant
Disorder.” In Comprehensive Handbook of Personality and Psychopathology, Vol. 3,
285–298: New York: Wiley.
22. Marshal, Michael P., and Brooke S. G. Molina. 2006. “Antisocial Behaviors
Moderate the Deviant Peer Pathway to Substance Use in Children with ADHD.”
Journal of Clinical Child and Adolescent Psychology 35, no. 2: 216–226.
23. Malta, Loretta S., Edward B. Blanchard, and Brian M. Freidenberg. 2005.
“Psychiatric and Behavioral Problems in Aggressive Drivers.” Behaviour Research and
Therapy 43, no. 11: 1467–1484.
24. Enright, Robert D., and Richard P. Fitzgibbons. 2000. Helping Clients Forgive:
An Empirical Guide for Resolving Anger and Restoring Hope Washington, D.C.: American
Psychological Association.
25. Barcalow, Kelly. 2006. “Oppositional Defiant Disorder: Information for
School Nurses.” Journal of School Nursing 22, no. 1: 9–16.
26. For a more thorough review of the literature, see Enright and Fitzgibbons,
Helping Clients Forgive.
27. Ibid.
28. North, Joanna. 1987. “Wrongdoing and Forgiveness.” Philosophy 62:
499–508.
29. Holmgren, Margaret R. 1993. “Forgiveness and the Intrinsic Value of

Persons.” American Philosophical Quarterly 30, no. 4: 341; and North, “Wrongdoing and
Forgiveness.”
30. Enright, Robert D. 1994. “Piaget on the Moral Development of Forgiveness:
Identity or Reciprocity?” Human Development 37, no. 2: 63–80.
31. For more on bearing the pain, see Bergin, Allen E. 1988. “Three
Contributions of a Spiritual Perspective to Counseling, Psychotherapy, and Behavior
Change.” Counseling and Values 33, no. 1: 21–31.
32. Arlow, Michael. 2004. “Citizenship Education in a Divided Society: The Case
of Northern Ireland.” In Education, Conflict, and Social Cohesion, edited by Sobhi Tawil
and Alexandra Harley, 255–314. Geneva: UNESCO, 280.
33. For a detailed overview and critique of EMU, see Arlow, “Citizenship
Education in a Divided Society”; Smith, Alan, and Alan Robinson. 1996. “Education
for Mutual Understanding: The Statutory Years.” Coleraine: University of Ulster;
Smith, Ron. 2002. “Professional Educational Psychology and Community Relations
Education in Northern Ireland.” Educational Psychology in Practice 18, no. 4: 275–295;
and Wright, Frank. “Some Problems with Education for Mutual Understanding.” In
Finding Ways to Go: A Discussion Paper about Community Relations in Northern Ireland.
Coleraine: University of Ulster.
34. Wells, Ronald. 1999. People behind the Peace. Cambridge: Eerdmans.
35. Ibid., 80.
36. Knutson, Jeanette, and Robert D. Enright. 2003. Discovering Forgiveness: A
Guided Curriculum for Children, Ages 6–8. Madison, Wisc.: International Forgiveness
Institute.
37. Enright, Robert D., et al., “Waging Peace through Forgiveness in Belfast,
Northern Ireland II.”
38. The final three points in this list are from Budziszewski, Written on the Heart.
39. Govier, Trudy. 2002. Forgiveness and Revenge. London: Routledge.
40. Tutu, Desmond. 1999. No Future without Forgiveness. New York: Doubleday.
41. Van der Walt, Clint, V. Franchi, and Garth Stevens. 2003. “The South African
Truth and Reconciliation Commission: ‘Race’, Historical Compromise and Transitional
Democracy.” International Journal of Intercultural Relations 27, no. 2: 251–267.
42. Lewis, C. S. 1960. The Four Loves. New York: Harcourt.
43. Aristotle, and H. Rackham. 1926. The Nicomachean Ethics, The Loeb Classical
Library. New York: Putnam’s, 453.
13
Religion and Peacebuilding
Gerard F. Powers
In The Mighty and the Almighty, Madeleine Albright acknowledges

that, as U.S. ambassador to the United Nations and secretary of
State, she held the conventional view of foreign policy specialists—
that religion is not an appropriate or relevant subject for analysis
or discussion. According to Albright, “I cannot remember any lead-
ing American diplomat (even the born-again Christian Jimmy Carter)
speaking in depth about the role of religion in shaping the
world.”1
Albright’s experience as a diplomat reflects what could be called
the secularist paradigm.2 According to this paradigm, Western
notions of secularization are equated with that which is “modern,”
“democratic,” and “pluralistic.” The cultural and political arrange-
ments in which religion is much more visible and salient—the
arrangements that prevail in much of the world—are equated
with that which is “premodern,” “undemocratic,” and “intolerant.”3
As Zbigniew Brzezinski points out, “the prevailing orthodoxy
among intellectuals in the West is that religion is a waning,
irrational, and dysfunctional aberration.”4 Religion and morality
are not—and, more important, should not be—major factors in
foreign policy. Joseph Nye and Stanley Hoffmann have noted that
because foreign policy tends to focus on the structure of the
international system—notably political, economic, and military
power relationships—civil society or mass movements have received
relatively little attention. Given this relative lack of attention to the
“soft power” of “movements from below,” the religious influences,
which are strongest at this level, often have been missed or
underestimated.5
Like a growing number of specialists in international affairs, Albright

now admits that this secularist paradigm is no longer adequate; understand-
ing international affairs today requires an understanding of religion. In fact,
Samuel Huntington’s influential thesis that intercivilizational conflicts reflect
the new paradigm in international affairs is based in part on his contention
that “in the modern world, religion is a central, perhaps the central, force that
motivates and mobilizes people.”6
This heightened attention to the public role of religion does not represent a
sharp departure from the prevailing orthodoxies of the secularist world-view in
one important sense. Religion, according to many, might not be “waning,” but
it remains mostly irrational and dysfunctional, a source of conflict and division,
and a powerful motive force behind exclusivist world views.7 Al Qaeda’s terror-
ism is exhibit A. Bosnia-Herzegovina, Kosovo, Iraq, Lebanon, Israel-Palestine,
Northern Ireland, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Sudan, Kashmir, and Sri Lanka are
also cited. The secularists who have long argued that religion has no place in
the public square and especially not the foreign ministry would seem to have
firm ground on which to build their case.
Not surprisingly, many who specialize in religion have never accepted the
descriptive or normative power of the secularist paradigm, with its almost uni-
formly negative view of the role of religion. In The Ambivalence of the Sacred,
Scott Appleby contends that the same kind of unwavering, absolute commit-
ment to one’s faith, or “religious militancy,” that can be a source of division
can also be a powerful force for freedom, justice, and liberation.8 The peaceful
revolutions in Eastern Europe; the human rights movement in Latin America;
the antiapartheid struggle in South Africa; the downfall of Marcos in the Philip-
pines; the peace process in Colombia, Mozambique, and Uganda; the struggle
for freedom in Tibet; and the campaign for democracy in Myanmar are just
a few examples of the power of religion at work in the service of justice and
peace.
Though there is a growing literature on the positive role of religion in
peacebuilding, it deserves more serious consideration, especially by foreign
policy specialists.9 A short article cannot begin to map and analyze the plethora
of peacebuilding being done by innumerable faith-based institutions and faith-
filled individuals. My task is more limited: to propose several elements of a
strategic approach to religious peacebuilding. I first address the inadequacies
of the prevailing secularist paradigm. I then discuss the complexity of religious
peacebuilding, especially the need to consider religion on its own terms and
appreciate the rich set of religious resources that can be mobilized on behalf
of peacebuilding. I then examine more closely three critical dimensions of a
strategic approach to religious peacebuilding—its inherently public nature; the
relationship between nonviolence, just war, and peacebuilding; and the role of
ecumenical and inter-religious peacebuilding. Finally, I suggest several impli-
cations of this analysis for policy makers.
I approach religious peacebuilding as an academic and a practitioner who
has worked on international affairs for more than two decades for and with
the huge, diverse, and complex global institution that is the Catholic Church.
RELIGION AND PEACEBUILDING 319
Although my analysis reflects my Catholic perspective and experience, I believe

it will find resonance with academics and practitioners concerned with reli-
gious peacebuilding more generally.
The Inadequacy of the Prevailing Secularist Paradigm
Before elaborating on elements of strategic religious peacebuilding, it is neces-

sary to address the fundamental difference between the secularist view, which
sees religion mostly as an atavistic and irrational cause of conflict that should be
marginalized and privatized, and those who believe that religion is an underap-
preciated force for peace that should have a significant role in society. Appleby
calls this “weak religion” versus “strong religion.”10
The secularist paradigm sees religion as a major factor in causing and
intensifying conflicts around the world because religion absolutizes and sacral-
izes differences over issues, leaving little room for compromise. Where reli-
gious differences per se are not at issue, religious identity can be a marker of
ethnic or national identities that can exacerbate communal divisions and can
be easily manipulated by cynical—and often irreligious—political leaders in
service of their extremist forms of nationalism. Henry Kissinger, for example,
called the 1990s Balkan conflicts “wars of religion” because, he argued, the
only difference between the warring parties was religious identity.11
Most quantitative studies of religion and conflict focus on these two dimen-
sions of the negative role of religion. They usually distinguish between two
kinds of conflicts. In one kind, religious incompatibility is a major factor—that
is, religious issues are at stake, such as when the primary parties to the conflict
make religious claims for control of the state or territory by a religious tradi-
tion. In other conflicts, religious dissimilarity is a major factor—that is, religious
issues are not at stake, but the parties to the conflict are distinguished in part
by different religious identities.12
These studies suggest that although religion is a factor in a number of con-
flicts, it is rarely a primary or exclusive factor. One of the most nuanced studies
was done by Uppsala University’s Department of Peace and Conflict Research.
Isak Svensson reports on the incidence of four types of conflicts from 1989 to
2003: (1) 58 percent were conflicts in which religion played no part in either
separating the identities of the belligerents or in the claims of the parties to
the conflict (e.g., Burundi, Nepal, El Salvador); (2) 20 percent were conflicts
in which the parties were separated by a difference in religious identities but
without any religious claims at stake (e.g., IRA–British government in North-
ern Ireland); (3) 11 percent were conflicts between belligerents that belong to
the same religious tradition but in which there are religious claims in the con-
flict (e.g., conflicts among Muslims in Algeria, Egypt, and Indonesia over the
religious or secular nature of the state); (4) 11 percent were conflicts where the
parties were separated by their religious identities and at least one party made
religious claims (e.g., Sri Lanka, Sudan, and Kashmir).13 In sum, he found that
only 22 percent of conflicts involved religious claims. Others have come to
similar conclusions.14 If one looks specifically at terrorism, one also finds that
although it is on the rise, religious terrorists make up 36 percent of terrorist
groups in the world.15
A partial listing of some of the world’s bloodiest conflicts of the past cen-
tury is consistent with these studies. The twentieth century was by far history’s
bloodiest. The architects of the slaughter of so many millions were men like
Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Pol Pot, Mao Zedong, and Saddam Hussein, none
of whom killed in the name of religion; in fact, they were mostly openly hostile
toward it. The same could be said of more recent examples—the Democratic
Republic of Congo, Burundi, Rwanda, Cambodia, Colombia, Darfur, the wars
in Central America in the 1970s and 1980s, and Somalia in the early 1990s.
Even if religious factors do not play a significant role in most conflicts,
including some of the most notorious of the past century, are conflicts with a
religious dimension more intractable and more violent than other conflicts?
Statistical studies differ on this question. Monica Toft found that religious civil
wars were nearly twice as likely to recur as nonreligious civil wars, and religious
civil wars were four times harder on noncombatants than civil wars in which
religion is peripheral.16 In a review of recent studies, Svensson found conflict-
ing results. Some studies concluded that in international conflicts where reli-
gious identity defined the conflicting parties, there was a significant decrease
in the likelihood of settlement. Others, however, concluded that the religious
identity of the conflicting parties did not affect the likelihood of settlement or
the duration of the post-settlement peace. Still others have found that ethnic
civil wars fought over religion were less difficult to mediate than wars over
secession and autonomy.17 Svensson’s own conclusion, based on the Uppsala
Conflict Data Program, is that in civil conflicts differences in religious identi-
ties of the parties did not reduce the likelihood of a negotiated settlement, but
conflicts in which religious claims were at stake did significantly decrease the
chance of a negotiated settlement.18
These studies offer useful aggregate indicators of the incidence of and
trends in the religious dimensions of conflicts, but they must be comple-
mented with a much more sophisticated qualitative understanding of the role
of religion.19
First, most of these quantitative studies do not attempt to measure the
intensity of religious identity and beliefs. Nor do they offer insights into the
complex interaction between religious identity and ethnic, national, racial,
class, cultural, gender, and political identities. Amartya Sen reminds us, “The
religious partitioning of the world produces a deeply misleading understand-
ing of the people across the world and the diverse relations between them, and
it also has the effect of magnifying one particular distinction between one per-
son and another to the exclusion of all other important concerns.”20
Second, it is important to avoid the monolithic, undifferentiated, and
functionalist approach to religion that is so often associated with the secularist
paradigm, and is sometimes reflected in statistical studies of religious con-
flict. In conflicts with a religious dimension, religious traditions are not equally
implicated. Toft’s study of civil wars distinguished among the major religious
traditions. She found that when religion is a central factor in a conflict, Islam
is the religion most likely to be involved. Gurr’s earlier study of ethnic conflicts
came to the same conclusion.21
These aggregate findings are useful in identifying global differences among
major religious traditions and the incidence of conflict. They do not, however,
purport to track or analyze differences within particular religious traditions.
They also fail to disaggregate religious influences in particular conflicts, and
therefore cannot account for the positive versus negative roles that religion
plays in those conflicts. Statistical studies correctly identify religion as a dimen-
sion of the conflict in Iraq, for example, but they do not provide insight into
the very different roles played by the followers of Shiite Grand Ayatollah Ali
al-Sistani and the followers of his Shiite antagonist, Muqtada al-Sadr. Statistical
studies also cannot adequately take into account nonreligious factors, such as
long-standing clan rivalries, that explain why different Shiite groups fight each
other in Iraq. In virtually every conflict where religion plays a role, it is a com-
plex, variegated factor, with some religious elements playing negative roles,
some positive, and some both.22
Northern Ireland, frequently described as a religious conflict, is a case in
point. The strident sectarianism of the Reverend Ian Paisley and the Orange
Order are one part of the religious collage, but so is the reconciling leadership
of the Reverend John Dunlop, former moderator of the Presbyterian Church.
That collage includes the “Catholic” Provisional IRA, whose motive force was
never Catholicism and whose desired end was a socialist (not Catholic) Ireland,
as well as the Catholic bishops, who are known for their condemnations of IRA
violence.23
Another problem with the studies of religion and conflict is that they
have mostly not included cases, such as Colombia, El Salvador, and northern
Uganda, where religion might not be a factor in the conflict but plays an impor-
tant role in peacebuilding.
If the role of religion in conflict is much more complex and variegated than
the secularists acknowledge and statistical studies can map, then the relevant
distinction is not between religious conflicts and other conflicts but between
those religious actors who play a negative role in a conflict and those who play
a positive one—between extremists and nonextremists.24 The challenge, then,
is to marginalize religious extremists, not religion. Especially where religious
extremism is a central factor in a conflict, it is all the more important that
there be authentic religious alternatives that can counter the extremists from
within their own tradition. Promoting an uncompromising Western secular-
ism as a solution to religious extremism can have the unintended effect of feed-
ing extremism by further threatening traditional sources of personal, cultural,
and religious identity. Contra the secularists, the best way to counter extremist
religion is with more authentic religion, not less or weakened or privatized
religion.25
From a sociological perspective, this distinction between extremist and
nonextremist, or authentic and inauthentic religion, is problematic, because
there is no objective way to distinguish among such actors, all of whom might
be motivated by or pressing what they believe to be “authentic” religious claims.

From a strategic peacebuilding perspective, however, this distinction is crucial.
It reminds us that an adequate understanding of the role of religion in conflict
requires an understanding of the internal dynamics of the ongoing development
of doctrine, norms, and religious practices within diverse religious traditions—
and a willingness to make subjective judgments about which doctrines, norms,
and practices contribute to peacebuilding and which do not. Both Osama bin
Laden and Ayatollah al-Sistani claim to represent “authentic” interpretations
of Islam. That does not mean that both interpretations are equally legitimate
or have equal saliency within lived Islam. Although it would be naive to expect
universal assent to any one interpretation of Islam, it is possible to sort out
these competing interpretations through theological and moral argumentation,
just as it is possible to distinguish between legitimate and illegitimate interpre-
tations of constitutional law or legitimate and illegitimate governments.
Strategic peacebuilding insists that we go much deeper than quantitative
measures of religion’s role in conflict, that we avoid treating religion as an
easily categorizable monolith, and that we understand both the negative and
positive roles of religion in conflict and peacebuilding. Strategic peacebuilding
gives priority to qualitative analyses that take seriously pluralism within and
among religious traditions as well as the complex qualitative factors that con-
tribute to either conflict or peace in particular cases. Strategic peacebuilding
makes a normative judgment that a political scientist or sociologist of religion
might not be willing to make: that an interpretation of a religious tradition or
certain religious practices that promote violence and injustice are “inauthentic,”
whereas those that are a force for peace and justice are “authentic.”26
The Complexity of Religious Peacebuilding
To avoid some of the weaknesses of the secularist critique of religion’s role

in conflict, it is essential that religious peacebuilding be evaluated on its own
terms and in all its complexity.
Defining Religion and Strategic Peacebuilding

Because there is little agreement in the literature on terminology or defini-
tions, let me briefly define my terms. Religion, according to Appleby, can be
defined simply as “the human response to a reality perceived as sacred.”27
Religious actors, in turn, can be defined as “people who have been formed by
a religious community and who are acting with the intent to uphold, extend, or
defend its values and precepts.”28 Religious peacebuilding includes, therefore,
the beliefs, norms, and rituals that pertain to peacebuilding, as well as a range
of actors, from religious institutions, faith-based private voluntary organiza-
tions that are not formally part of a religious institution, and individuals and
groups for whom religion is a significant motivation for their peacebuilding.
For example, Catholic peacebuilding requires an analysis of a billion-strong,
complex, and diverse community that consists of multiple actors, from the
pope and bishops to countless priests, women religious and lay people; from
more than a hundred national episcopal conferences to thousands of dioceses
and well over a hundred thousand parishes; from vast social service, health
care, social action, and educational systems to a multiplicity of lay organiza-
tions and movements.29
Peacebuilding can be defined quite broadly as everything implied by a
robust, positive understanding of a just peace. Alternatively, it can be defined
more narrowly as an approach to healing broken societies, or, even more nar-
rowly, as a set of nonviolent methods of dealing with conflict, from mediation
and interfaith dialogue to relationship building and reconciliation programs.
As Lederach and Appleby point out in chapter 1, strategic peacebuilding encom-
passes the broader definition:
[It] nurtures constructive human relationships. To be relevant, it
must do so strategically, at every level of society and across the
potentially polarizing lines of ethnicity, class, religion, and race. . . . It
focuses on transforming inhumane social patterns, flawed structural
conditions, and open violent conflict that weaken the conditions
necessary for a flourishing human community.30
Faith-based peacebuilding intervenes in these various stages of conflict
through a broad array of roles and activities at the local, national, and interna-
tional levels. Adapting typologies proposed by Lederach and Sampson, David
Steele groups these roles into four types: observation and witness (e.g., fact
finding, monitoring of cease-fires, accompaniment of victims), education and
formation (e.g., conflict resolution training, education on peace and justice
issues, faith formation in vocation of peacebuilding), advocacy and empower-
ment (e.g., mass protests, efforts to change specific public policies, incorporat-
ing peacebuilding in development programs), and conciliation and mediation
(e.g., participation in truth and reconciliation commissions, facilitating peace
processes, interfaith dialogues).31 Because it involves multiple stages of con-
flict and multiple roles and activities, peacebuilding also involves multiple time
horizons: before ceasefires and regime changes, during the conflict itself, the
immediate aftermath, and the often decades-long process of reconstruction
and reconciliation after the violence ends.32
Evaluating Religious Peacebuilding on Its Own Terms

Analyzing peacebuilding, broadly defined, in conflict situations with multiple
security, political, economic, and cultural dimensions is a challenge. Adding
religion to the mix further complicates the task. First, and most obvious, is the
fact that there are countless religious traditions, and these traditions, them-
selves, are by no means monolithic. They differ remarkably in size, organiza-
tional structure, geographic reach, and the sophistication, content, and style of
their teaching and action on social, political, economic, and other issues related
to peacebuilding.
Second, in some respects it is valid to use standard metrics applied to polit-

ical actors or transnational social movements to analyze religious peacebuild-
ing. In other respects, it is not valid. Religious entities work on peacebuilding
programs and issues, but their essential mission and identity are not defined
in terms of those issues and programs, as is the case with secular nongovern-
mental organizations (NGOs). Religious bodies often have millions of mem-
bers, but they are not membership organizations like Amnesty International
or MoveOn. Religious bodies have rich intellectual traditions, but they are not
think-tanks like the U.S. Institute of Peace or the International Crisis Group.
Religious peacebuilding often involves distinctively religious and spiritual
resources—such as ritual, prayer, and spiritual healing—that are not part of a
secular NGO’s peacebuilding portfolio and cannot be analyzed and measured
with standard tools of sociology and political science.
The most important distinction between religious and other civil society
actors is the mission and self-understanding of religious bodies qua religious
bodies. Religious peacebuilding, whether done by individuals or institutions,
is motivated and shaped by deeply held religious beliefs and has a stature and
credibility that is derived, in large part, from religious identity. Therefore, any
analysis of religious peacebuilding must go beyond a functionalist approach
that focuses primarily on its political efficacy and understand it in the con-
text of larger issues of religious identity and mission. Theological and pastoral
traditions and practices might exclude or circumscribe certain ways of doing
peacebuilding that are common to political actors and social action groups.
Religious leaders and institutions often have a definite political impact—medi-
ating conflicts, opposing authoritarian regimes, and advocating for specific
public policies. They are sometimes reluctant, however, to engage in certain
kinds of peacebuilding that are perceived as too “political” and thus beyond
their competence, in the theological and ordinary sense of that word. When
they get involved, they might want to engage at a general level appropriate to
their role as pastors and teachers, to avoid being dismissed for inappropriately
mixing religion and politics.
Restrictions on clerics holding public office, supporting political candidates
or parties, or other forms of direct political engagement are not uncommon.
In June 2007, for example, the Filipino government invited Fr. Elisio “Jun”
Mercado, a Catholic priest who is respected by the Moro Islamic Liberation
Front (MILF) in Mindanao, to be its chief negotiator in the peace talks with
the MILF. After initially accepting the appointment, Fr. Mercado ultimately
decided to forgo this formal role in the negotiations in part because it was seen
as incompatible with his role as a priest.
For students of international relations and peace studies, the Sant’Egidio
community, a lay Catholic community headquartered in Rome that is credited
with helping negotiate an end to the Mozambique war, is an example of track-
two diplomacy and the role of civil society in promoting peace. For students of
the Catholic Church, Sant’Egidio is also an example of the proper relationship
between lay and clerical roles. Similarly, a Catholic bishops’ conference might
be reluctant to become formally involved in mediating a conflict, even though
it has the capacity and credibility to do so, because of its understanding of the
institutional Church’s role vis-à-vis the political order and a bishops’ role vis-à-
vis the Catholic laity. It might first choose to encourage lay Catholics to under-
take that role, and only do so itself if it becomes clear that no other entity is
available. Even then, the bishops might see their “substitute political role” as an
exceptional case. If one does not understand theology, it is easy to misinterpret
the bishops’ reluctance to get involved in mediation as indifference or a failure
of will. Strategic approaches to religious peacebuilding take into account these
theological nuances that are too often missed or ignored by outsiders who see
religion in purely instrumental terms and analyze it as they would a political
institution.
Finally, as important as it might be in a particular conflict situation, religion
is just one actor and one factor in a much wider project of strategic peacebuild-
ing. As with the studies cited earlier, it is difficult to disaggregate religion from
other factors in peacebuilding. As Appleby points out, one needs a “multilay-
ered view” of religious peacemaking that avoids sharp distinction between the
“religious” and the “secular.”33 Religious peacebuilders rarely act alone. Suc-
cessful religious peacebuilding usually involves collaboration with other civil
society actors, governments, and international institutions.
Religious Peacebuilding as a Function of the Nature of a Conflict

The nature of the conflict will have an important impact on whether religious
bodies can play a constructive peacebuilding role and the nature of that role.
In the conflict following the break-up of Yugoslavia, there are three different
accounts of the role of religion. The religious war account contends that specifi-
cally religious divisions gave the conflict in the former Yugoslavia a dimension
not unlike the religious wars Europe has known all too well over the centuries.
The ethnoreligious war account of the conflict does not emphasize religion per
se but religion’s contribution to the rise of chauvinistic forms of nationalism.
The manipulation of religion account of the war acknowledges that religious
fears and symbols were manipulated and abused by cynical ultranationalists
for their own ends, but downplays the role of religious differences or religious
nationalism in fomenting conflict. According to this account, the conflict was
over competing and mostly incompatible claims of self-determination that
arose out of the failure of the Yugoslav idea.
The assessment of the role of the Serbian Orthodox, Roman Catholic,
and Muslim communities in this conflict is, in large part, a function of which
account of the war one adopts. The first account focuses on religious doctrines
and practices that encouraged sectarianism and religious violence. Strategic
peacebuilding, then, reexamines those doctrines and practices, and pursues
inter-religious dialogue about divisive doctrines and practices, as well as areas
of common ground.
Because the second account of the war defines the issue as religious nation-
alism, not religious violence, the relationship between religion and the political
order and religion and national identity becomes most salient. In the face of
religious nationalism, effective religious peacebuilding is less about finding

common ground on religious issues per se and more about retrieving theologi-
cal and moral teaching on the appropriate relationship between religion and
politics and between religion and national identity. The peacebuilding chal-
lenge for religious leaders is to promote a civic form of national identity that
distinguishes between the virtue of patriotism and the idolatry of chauvinistic
nationalism, upholds the religious freedom of minorities, and embraces reli-
gious pluralism as an important part of a healthy democracy. Religious peace-
building would also include intra- and interfaith efforts to oppose a partition
of Bosnia-Herzegovina along religious, ethnic, and national lines that solidifies
and, in effect, rewards “ethnic cleansing.”
Like the second account of the war, the third leads to an examination of a
political theology and ethics. The war’s barbarity and intractability, according
to this view, were not attributable to “ancient” religious-cultural hatreds but to
the failure of politics to counter chaos, war-lordism, and cycles of violence in
the wake of the implosion of Yugoslavia. Even more than the second account
of the war, the third highlights a lacunae in Roman Catholic, Serbian Ortho-
dox, and Islamic social ethics. In varying degrees, each lacks ethics that can
constructively contribute to debates over secessionist self-determination and
minority rights. Muslim and Catholic support for Bosnian secession, for exam-
ple, reflected in part a desire to participate in the democratic transformation
that was sweeping Eastern Europe and a realistic evaluation of the futility of
remaining in a failed Yugoslav state dominated by Slobodan Milosevic’s brand
of Serbian nationalism, a futility confirmed by the ensuing war. No doubt the
conflicting positions on self-determination hindered the ability of religious
leaders in the former Yugoslavia to be reconcilers. But these differences, in
part, reflected legitimate moral and religious concerns about nurturing and
protecting human rights and the spiritual and cultural values of their respec-
tive societies. Reconciliation, therefore, requires not just addressing religious
violence or religious nationalism but also a just resolution of competing claims
of self-determination.
In short, an adequate analysis of strategic religious peacebuilding takes
seriously the complexity of religion and religious actors; the multifaceted,
sometimes distinctive religious strategies for peacebuilding; and the extent to
which these strategies arise out of an accurate assessment of the nature of
a particular conflict. Further elaboration of the religious resources for peace-
building is needed, however.
The Power and Virtue of Strategic Peacebuilding
Madeleine Albright makes the controversial claim that faith-based organiza-

tions “have more resources, more skilled personnel, a longer attention span,
more experience, more dedication, and more success in fostering reconcili-
ation than any government.”34 To understand this statement, it is useful to
provide a schematic of the rather unique mix of ideals, institutions, and people
that together constitute a robust set of religious resources for strategic peace-
building.35
Religious Resources for Peacebuilding

It is difficult to generalize about the endless number of religious beliefs and
ideas that play a role in fomenting conflict or promoting peacebuilding. In
assessing commonalities among a dozen prominent religious peacebuilders,
David Little concludes that they all share a “hermeneutics of peace, namely,
an interpretive framework that begins with the conviction that the pursuit of
justice and peace by peaceful means is a sacred priority in each of the tra-
ditions represented.”36 A hermeneutics of peace acknowledges that religious
beliefs sometimes inspire sectarianism and violence but also self-sacrificial
work for justice and peace. Commands to treat all people as children of God
and to be peacemakers are no less powerful than teachings that encourage reli-
gious exclusivity and sanction religious violence. Religious traditions also often
contain core precepts that contribute to peacebuilding that are generally not
found in conventional political discourse, such as forgiveness, love of enemy,
and solidarity with the poor and oppressed. Moreover, although religious abso-
lutes are generally seen as conflict-producing because they leave no room for
compromise, in fact, few wars are fought today over these absolutes. Wars are
usually fought over political power, territory, access to resources, and ideology.
Although religion sometimes is used to reify these goods,37 at least as often,
religion opposes as idolatry an uncompromising or absolutist approach to the
conflicts over the (nonreligious) issues that fuel most wars.
Ideas alone have little social relevance unless they shape the actions of insti-
tutions and individuals. In many poor, war-torn countries and failed or failing
states, religious bodies are often the most important civil society institutions.
In Latin America and Africa, many of the schools, hospitals, social services,
relief and development, and human rights programs are sponsored by religious
institutions. The experience of these institutions can give religious bodies spe-
cial expertise that cuts across many aspects of peacebuilding. Because religious
bodies are deeply rooted in society and the daily lives of ordinary people, they
can bring greater credibility and deeper relationships to their engagement in
peacebuilding than most NGOs. Religious institutions also have the advantage
of being able to influence not just public policies but also cultural mores and
the beliefs and practices of individuals.
The indigenous nature of much religious peacebuilding is strengthened
by the fact that many religious institutions are relatively unique transnational
actors. They are deeply rooted in local communities yet also have a global reach
that can surpass that of governments, international institutions, or multina-
tional companies. Their global reach enables them to bridge the global divide
between zones of conflict and poverty and zones of peace and prosperity. Their
indigenous character enables them to provide early warning of simmering con-
flicts and can help outsiders better understand and respond to the dynamics
of a particular conflict. Catholic Relief Services and World Vision, which serve
tens of millions of people in more than a hundred countries, are only two of
numerous large faith-based relief and development agencies that have inte-
grated peacebuilding into their work in war-torn areas. Hundreds of thousands
of missionaries also provide unique connections between countries in conflict
and wealthier, powerful countries like the United States. Religious bodies in
these powerful countries often give their religious counterparts from places
like Sudan and El Salvador direct access to the leaders of international institu-
tions and governments who can play a constructive role in helping resolve local
conflicts.
Finally, because, at root, religious bodies are communities of people, reli-
gion has an ability to reach, educate, inspire, and mobilize the masses. Some
of the most dramatic examples of religious “people power” are the Catholic
Church’s role in the mass protests that helped bring down the Marcos regime
in the Philippines, the Evangelical Lutheran Church’s role in providing safe
space for organizing the protests that brought down the communist govern-
ment in East Germany, and the Serbian Orthodox Church’s role in toppling
the regime of Milosevic in Serbia. In many ways, though, these and other mass
mobilizations are exceptional cases. More typical are advocacy efforts, such as
the landmines and debt relief campaigns, that rely heavily on religious institu-
tions and faith-based NGOs to reach millions of people through their congrega-
tions and schools.
People power is also about individuals. Religious leaders at the local,
national, and international level often have a moral credibility that political,
governmental, media, and corporate leaders lack. This moral credibility allows
them to be effective advocates for peaceful social change, to mediate between
conflicting parties, and to provide new visions for the future in societies torn by
conflict. Finally, countless peacebuilders are lay people—some famous, most
not—whose peacebuilding arises out of their religious beliefs. In fact, over the
past twenty-five years, almost half the Nobel Peace Prize laureates have been
religious leaders or lay people whose work was inspired by their faith.
Integrating Ideas, Institutions, and People

Religious peacebuilding is strategic when it effectively integrates these diverse
religious resources. Integrating ideas, institutions, and people power is com-
parable to what Appleby calls “the saturation model.” According to Appleby:
“Nonviolent religious militancy becomes politically effective over the long term
only when it spans a spectrum of actors at different levels of society, all of
whom are working in collaboration for the nonviolent resolution of conflict
and the building of stable political structures and social relations.”38 Similarly,
Douglas Johnston and Brian Cox conclude that effective faith-based diplomacy
requires four attributes:
1. A well-established and pervasive influence in the community.
2. A reputation as an apolitical force for change based on a respected set
of values.
3. Unique leverage for reconciling conflicting parties, including an ability

to rehumanize relationships.
4. The capability to mobilize community, national, and international sup-
port for a peace process.39
Their first attribute is about faith-based people power, the second and third
mostly involve faith-based values, and the fourth, faith-based institutions. Put
another way, the effectiveness of religious peacebuilding depends on integrat-
ing theology, ethics, and praxis; integrating the peacebuilding work of different
parts of religious institutions; and integrating peacebuilding policy and proc-
ess. Let me briefly elaborate on each.
It is banal to say, but a religious body is an effective peacebuilder when
there is continuity between what it preaches and what it practices. My con-
tention that religious peacebuilding must be analyzed on its own terms, not
solely by the standard metrics for assessing political actors, interest groups,
or NGOs, assumes that peacebuilding is integrated into the life and mission
of religious bodies. Peacebuilding must be an authentic means to fulfill one’s
religious mission; religion cannot be simply a means to pursue peacebuilding.
Instrumentalizing religion, even for the worthwhile objective of peacebuild-
ing, will undermine religion as well as the effectiveness of religious peace-
building.
Rooting peacebuilding in mission and integrating it into the life of the reli-
gious body has practical consequences. Stand-alone peacebuilding programs,
although necessary and important, are not necessarily best able to use the full
panoply of religious resources. Stand-alone programs must be complemented
by efforts to make peacebuilding an integral part of religious formation of its
leaders and its members, its prayer and rituals, its pastoral strategies, and its
charitable work. A Catholic trauma healing program in Rwanda, for example,
will be rooted in the Church’s sacramental tradition, especially reconciliation
and the eucharist, as well as in the Church’s experience in pastoral counseling.
A Muslim program to reintegrate refugees in Iraq will not be based on the nar-
rowly defined humanitarian needs and short-term time frame of a government
grant but on the broader spiritual and social needs and the long-term horizon
of the mosque, which will be dealing with the consequences of the war not only
for today’s refugees but also for their children and grandchildren.
Integrating peacebuilding and mission can be challenging. Religious tradi-
tions that emphasize an individual’s personal relationship with God might not
have a strong theological basis for claims that peacebuilding at the societal level
is integral to the faith. In other traditions, peacebuilding is considered integral,
but there is often a considerable gap between official teaching and the integra-
tion of that teaching into the daily life of that community.
Not surprisingly, the impact of religion in a particular conflict depends, in
large part, on the intensity of religious affiliation. One reason extreme nation-
alists were able to manipulate religion during the Balkan wars of the 1990s
is that five decades of communism had severely weakened religion, result-
ing in low levels of religious literacy and practice.40 Dowd suggests that low
levels of meaningful religious affiliation are one reason the Catholic Church
in Rwanda was ineffective in preventing the genocide.41 Mennonites, Quakers,
and other historic “peace churches” have had a disproportionate role in faith-
based peacebuilding training and conflict resolution around the world because
the vocation of peacebuilding has become an integral part of the life of those
communities.
Religious peacebuilding is often effective in the short term in places where
religious leaders retain a high degree of influence and respect in society at
large. Paradoxically, religious bodies might become more effective peacebuild-
ers over the long term if the task of peacebuilding was not so often confined to
those in clerical roles. In some countries, the leading role of clerics is often a
function of the relatively low levels of education of ordinary believers as well as
the traditional role that religious leaders have played in society. Peacebuilding
will be more deeply integrated into the lived religion of the whole faith commu-
nity as the peacebuilding role and capacity of lay leaders and ordinary believers
becomes more important. The role of nonclerics is especially important for
peacebuilding with a political dimension for which religious leaders might not
be well suited.
Closely connected to the integration of teaching and practice is institu-
tional integration. Religious bodies are the envy of the Central Intelligence
Agency and MoveOn only when they are integrated vertically and horizon-
tally. The Roman Catholic Church is probably the most vertically integrated
religious body; its hierarchical structure has clearly defined leaders and insti-
tutions at all levels of a pyramidal structure and clear lines of teaching and
organizational authority (though it is quite decentralized in its operations).42
Many religious institutions are much less vertically integrated but still have
the capacity, through their identifiable religious leaders and national and
international structures, to operate at levels beyond the local community. As
Lederach has pointed out, strategic peacebuilding resists the temptation to
give priority to peacebuilding at one level of the hierarchical pyramid or for
peacebuilding at one level to operate in isolation from the other levels.43 In
Northern Ireland, Catholics and Protestants collaborated rather effectively at
the leadership level and through a proliferation of ecumenical “grassroots”
peace and reconciliation groups, such as the Corrymeela Community. This
remarkable ecumenical collaboration would have been even more effective
if there was not such a dearth of ecumenical engagement at the parish and
congregation level.
The political science term for horizontal integration—transnational actor—
has its theological correlates in such concepts as solidarity and the Body of
Christ. Religious institutions vary considerably in the extent to which horizon-
tal collaboration among coreligionists around the world is valued and practiced.
The most effective religious peacebuilding occurs where a high value is placed
on being in solidarity and maintaining unity with those suffering from conflict,
and these values are institutionalized through regional and international struc-
tures and meetings, congregation-twinning, missionary and aid programs, and
ad hoc engagement around issues of peace and justice.
Vertical and horizontal integration are critical in enabling religious leaders

to meet a common challenge: maintaining a proper balance between the deeply
embedded ties to cultural, ethnic and national identities that give religion its
influence in particular conflict situations, and the cosmopolitan or universal
elements that give religion its moral credibility and transnational reach. What
Lederach and Appleby say about strategic peacebuilders generally applies espe-
cially to religious peacebuilders: “Practitioners specialize in the dynamics of
peacebuilding within the boundaries and on the terms set by local commu-
nities, but they recognize that local communities today always already exist
within national and global contexts.”44
Religious individuals and institutions are especially effective peacebuild-
ers because they are inculturated—they are deeply rooted in their own com-
munities, representing a complex web of relationships that often cut across
economic, political, and ethnic divisions. They also often enjoy a moral cred-
ibility that is unmatched by other local actors. Especially in times of war and
repression, local religious leaders and institutions share in their community’s
suffering (unlike many international institutions and international NGOs) and
are often prominent defenders of their community’s rights and legitimate aspi-
rations.45 In Poland and Tibet, for example, religion has been a protector of
national and cultural values and rights in the face of repression and aggression.
In Guatemala, Colombia, Mozambique, northern Uganda, and other conflicts,
religious leaders have used their local influence to facilitate or mediate peace
processes.
These characteristics of indigenous religious peacebuilders are not without
challenges. Precisely because they are so deeply entrenched in their own com-
munities, they must resist taking refuge in a comfortable ethical and pastoral
parochialism at the expense of the cosmopolitan ethic and universal religious
vision that can be religion’s most important contribution to peacebuilding. Per-
haps the greatest sin of omission of religious actors who are deeply rooted in
communities embroiled in conflict is their failure to condemn, in unambigu-
ous terms, violence and human rights abuses committed by their own religious,
ethnic, or national group. Because of their condemnations of IRA violence, the
Catholic bishops in Northern Ireland were severely criticized, particularly by
many Catholics, for not being “prophetic” in their witness on behalf of a belea-
guered Catholic community. At the same time, the Catholic bishops in Croatia
were strongly criticized for being too nationalistic in rallying international sup-
port for a victimized Croatian Catholic community.
It is easy, and in some respects appropriate, to applaud the former and con-
demn the latter. But a fair analysis would have to take into account the extreme
conditions under which religious leaders operate, the moral dilemmas they
face, and the failures of moral courage and vision to which religious leaders
and ordinary believers are not immune. Despite doctrines on the equal dignity
of all people and the centrality of peacebuilding, it is not easy for religion to
counter the dehumanization and scapegoating of the enemy during conflict,
to overcome the tendency to give the benefit of the doubt to one’s own group
or nation, and to engage in the prophetic self-criticism that could undermine
national unity, give the enemy a propaganda bonanza, and risk one’s own and
other lives. For these and other reasons, religious leaders can easily come to
see their pastoral role as being chaplains to their own community, even at the
expense of their role as religious leaders.
Religious leaders become effective peacebuilders only when they are able
to rise above this ethical and pastoral parochialism, while not abandoning the
religious inculturation that can make them such a force for peace in the local
context. Most (if not all) religious traditions contain within them rich resources
for overcoming parochialism and fostering a more universal vision. Concepts of
transcendence, charity, justice, reconciliation, and human dignity are consist-
ent with and reinforce the pluralist goal of engendering unity while respecting
diversity. The fact that most religious bodies are transnational actors, closely
aligned with coreligionists around the world, also serves as a brake on any
tendencies to become too nationalistic and see the world exclusively from the
prism of their own particular ethnic or national group.
Finally, the integration of principles and practices and vertical and hori-
zontal institutional integration should correspond to an integration of differ-
ent types of peacebuilding. Strategic peacebuilding requires a link between
the various roles assumed by religious peacebuilders: observation and wit-
ness, education and formation, advocacy and empowerment, and conciliation
and mediation. The Acholi Religious Leaders’ Peace Initiative in northern
Uganda, started in 1997 by Anglican, Roman Catholic, Muslim, and Ortho-
dox leaders, is a good example of the effectiveness of this kind of integration.
The religious leaders’ peacebuilding work grew out of their humanitarian aid
programs in the camps for the displaced. They used their influence to play a
key role in facilitating the peace process between the Ugandan government
and the Lord’s Resistance Army. As a complement to their work on the peace
process, they worked with their religious counterparts in the United States
and other key countries, first, to bring greater attention to what was, in the
1990s, a mostly ignored conflict, and later to urge the United States and the
United Nations to play a constructive role in the peace process by (among
other things) supporting indigenous alternatives to the indictments handed
down by the International Criminal Court. They did not, however, work only at
the elite level. They also formed local and later district-level peace committees
to educate their own people about peacebuilding, address land issues, organ-
ize peace rallies and prayers, mediate local conflicts, and develop programs of
trauma healing.46
The Acholi Religious Leaders Peace Initiative is an example of the stra-
tegic value of integrating religious resources for peace. Most important were
the common religious principles and moral credibility that allowed them
to be strong witnesses for peace. Also essential were the variety, reach, and
strength of their religious institutions in the zone of conflict and their institu-
tional ties to their counterparts around the world. Finally, they had the capac-
ity to address the needs of and mobilize ordinary Acholis to be a force for
peace and reconciliation amid one of the world’s most brutal and intractable
conflicts.
Three Challenges for Religious Peacebuilding
This chapter has argued that a strategic approach to religious peacebuilding

rejects the prevailing secularist paradigm that sees religion as mostly a source
of conflict and division; takes seriously the complexity of religion and religious
actors, the multifaceted, sometimes distinctive religious strategies for peace-
building and the extent to which these strategies are a function of the nature
of a conflict; and integrates the complex of ideas, institutions, and individuals
that can serve as a potent source of religious peacebuilding. I now address three
key issues raised by religious peacebuilding: (1) the public nature of religious
peacebuilding, (2) the role of principled nonviolence in religious peacebuilding
and (3) the relative importance of ecumenical and inter-religious peacebuilding
compared to single-identity peacebuilding.
A Strong Public Role for Religion

If the secularists are mistaken in their assumption that the antidote to reli-
gious conflict is to marginalize and privatize religion, then strategic religious
peacebuilding cannot be limited to motivating individuals to be peacebuilders
and transforming interpersonal relationships; it must be tied to a strong pub-
lic role for religion. The role of religion in postconflict situations is a case in
point. Many religious traditions are well equipped to address the moral dimen-
sions of the use of force before and during a violent conflict. Most also have
a rich theological, spiritual, and pastoral tradition on personal reconciliation
with God and neighbor. But few have well-developed teaching or pastoral prac-
tices related to the political or communal dimensions of reconciliation after a
war is over. Northern Ireland is not atypical. During two decades of conflict,
the four largest churches developed a clear and mostly constructive approach
to the complex political and religious dynamics of the conflict. But after the
Good Friday Agreement in 1998, they were somewhat at a loss in dealing with
postconflict issues, such as amnesty for paramilitaries and long-term pastoral
strategies for healing and reconciliation. The growing theological and ethical
literature on the political dimensions of forgiveness is beginning to fill this
gap.47 The point is that effective religious peacebuilding depends on a sophisti-
cated public theology and social ethic that justifies and gives substance to reli-
gious engagement in the social, economic, cultural, and political dimensions
of peacebuilding.
The complexity and variety of perspectives on the theology and ethics
underlying a public role for religion can only be hinted at here. As a general
rule, those religious traditions that historically have been most concerned with
personal religious experience or posit a sharp distinction between the religious
community and the wider social order have not developed the kind of sophis-
ticated public theology and social ethic necessary for strategic peacebuilding.
Christian Anabaptists (traditional peace churches) are on one side of the spec-
trum. They emphasize the need for a distinctive community of believers that
can model nonviolent, just behavior. For the most part, they do not believe it is
possible or part of their religious mission to seek to influence the public order.
On the other end of the spectrum is political Islam, which seeks to create a pub-
lic order that reflects, safeguards, and promotes Islamic religious and moral
teaching. So-called mainline Christian denominations tend toward a middle
ground in which religious and moral values can help shape and inform the
social, political, and economic realms, but these sectors retain some degree of
autonomy from the religious realm.
This spectrum of views on the public role of religion is reflected in three
large and complex sets of issues that are central to an understanding of the
essential public dimension of religious peacebuilding: religion–state relation-
ships, religion and politics, and religion and culture.
Religion–state relationships can have a major impact on whether religion
is a source of conflict or peace. I briefly examine four types of religion–state
relationships and their relationship to peacebuilding:
1. the atheist state, which is intolerant of religion;

2. the state religion, where one religion has a monopoly in society and
relies on the state for both special privileges and to restrict or deny the
rights of minority religions;
3. church–state separation, which privileges religious pluralism by ensur-
ing a secular state that is neutral toward religion; and
4. the preferred religion(s) model, where the state gives preference to one
or more religions, but state and religion are separate and no effort is
made to restrict minority religions.48
The first two types of religion–state relationships are most problematic

for religious peacebuilding. Where religion is severely circumscribed by athe-
ist states, so is religious peacebuilding. The Catholic Church in Poland could
play the role it did in the peaceful demise of communism because it was the
principal social institution in Poland that was independent of the government
and capable of pursuing an alternative vision of Poland’s social, political, and
economic future. In the former Yugoslavia, religious peacebuilders were handi-
capped in their efforts to counter religious nationalism in part because the
public role of religion had been systematically circumscribed and undermined
under communism. State religions can sometimes parlay their privileged posi-
tion into a peacebuilding role, but more often a religious monopoly is a source
of conflict, as with the Khartoum government’s efforts to impose sharia law
in southern Sudan. Paradoxically, in the long run, the direct religious role in
government and politics can weaken the public role of religion given the risks
of religion being politicized or coopted by government, either of which can
undermine its public credibility.
If the atheist state and state religion models have serious negative con-
notations for religious peacebuilding, it does not necessarily follow that
religious peacebuilding thrives best in liberal democracies with strict church–
state separation. In the United States, church–state separation has arguably
contributed to the peacebuilding role of religion. Church–state separation has

not prevented and might have contributed to the strong role religion plays in
public life. Religious opposition to U.S. policies that undermine the peace proc-
ess in Colombia and faith-based advocacy campaigns for peace in Darfur and
northern Uganda are fruits of the flourishing of public religion in the context
of strict church–state separation. What works in the United States, however,
does not necessarily work in countries with very different histories, cultures,
political systems, and demographics. The temptation to try to remake the world
in the U.S. image of church–state separation is a formula not for peacebuilding
but conflict. In many cultures, the U.S. model is seen as the camel’s nose of
Western secularism and a threat to religion.
Although it can suffer from some of the problems associated with the state
religion model, the preferred religion(s) model can sometimes contribute to
effective religious peacebuilding. This model often coincides with and rein-
forces a situation in which one or more religious traditions have the public
influence necessary to mobilize the masses against a repressive government
or bridge divisions between conflicting parties in a civil war. Yet because there
is not a state religion and the rights of minority religions are protected, the
risk that religion will be politically coopted or become a source of conflict is
diminished.
The religion–state issue is related to but distinct from the larger issue of reli-
gion and politics. Whatever the formal religion–state relationship, peacebuild-
ing requires political engagement; therefore, religious peacebuilding is about
religion and politics. (I define politics broadly to include engagement on issues
of public policy, not just partisan politics.) For many religious peacebuilders,
the challenge is to have a political impact without becoming politicized. Some
are most comfortable in a public role where they serve as a social conscience,
criticizing the actions of warring parties, addressing the moral dimensions
of policy issues, and offering a vision of a more peaceful, just, and recon-
ciled society. Not infrequently, religious peacebuilders assume a more overtly
political role when they identify with one party in a conflict or take on roles
usually reserved for governmental actors. In several prominent cases, notably
the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Poland, East Germany, Serbia, and the
Philippines, religious leaders have assumed political roles in mediating between
the government and rebels or calling for a change of regimes. In Guatemala,
South Africa, and Peru, religious leaders have played prominent roles in truth
and reconciliation commissions. For some, such roles are perfectly compatible
with their public theology and their conception of proper religious leadership.
Others might avoid such roles as an illegitimate mixing of religion and politics.
Still others might justify what they consider a substitute political position only
in exceptional cases when there is a dearth of other credible leaders to fill the
peacebuilding role. A strategic approach to religious peacebuilding will care-
fully assess the wide variety of normative perspectives among religious peace-
builders on religion and politics, not just the potential political effectiveness of
their interventions. In my own judgment, when religious peacebuilders move
from a temporary political role to a more permanent political role, they risk
losing their moral legitimacy and, over time, become less effective as peace-
builders. The work of religious peacebuilders will and ought to have political
implications to be effective, but the religious peacebuilders undermine their
constructive role when they become political actors as such.
The attention given to the important issues of religion and state and reli-
gion and politics can sometimes obscure the public role of religion in influ-
encing the cultural dynamics of peacebuilding. According to Lederach and
Appleby,
Promoting reconciliation and healing as the sine qua non of peacebuild-
ing is predicated on a hard-won awareness that violent conflict creates
deep disruption in relationships that then need radical healing—the
kind of healing that restores the soul, the psyche, and the moral im-
agination. Such healing, it is recognized, draws on profound rational,
psychological, and transrational resources, especially the spiritual
dimension of humanity. Its preferred modalities are therefore symbolic,
cultural, and religious—the deepest personal and social spheres, which
directly and indirectly shape the national and political spheres.49
Etzioni calls this challenge of developing a “moral culture,” the “soft under-
belly of security” in countries where authoritarian regimes are failing, have
collapsed, or have been replaced.50 He recognizes that in contrast to Western
secular approaches that emphasize the establishment of liberal democracies as
the source of peace and stability, “religion is one source, in many cases a main
source, and in some cases the major or exclusive source, of moral culture” in
countries trying to escape violence and instability.51 Etzioni’s “soft underbelly
of security” applies not just in cases of authoritarian regimes but in many con-
flicts, particularly long-standing civil wars. It is common for religious leaders
in countries riven by conflict to see their main challenge as addressing the
cultural casualties of war. In Colombia, the Catholic Church has a formal role
in the official peace process (what might be seen as a substitute political role),
but it is clear that it must also help cultivate civil society efforts to counter the
culture of violence that has developed over decades of conflict and help the long
process of creating a culture of peace, without which the peace process cannot
succeed. Of course, the Church in Colombia could not play either role if it were
not a major public force in Colombia.
In sum, a robust religious contribution to peacebuilding requires a robust
public role for religion. That role must arise out of a sophisticated public the-
ology and social ethic and can be understood only in light of the variety of
religious perspectives on the complex set of issues related to the relationship
between religion and state, religion and politics, and religion and culture.
The Role of Nonviolence in Religious Peacebuilding

The secularist critics of religion and some critics of the secularists con-
tend that religiously motivated and justified violence is a serious (if not the
principal) challenge for religious peacebuilding. If that is correct, a signal
contribution that religion can make to peacebuilding is to reconsider its teach-

ings on war and peace and embrace nonviolence.
According to Etzioni, a critic of the secularist paradigm, the problem with
Samuel Huntington’s “clash of civilizations” thesis is that it “obscures that cru-
cially important differences run through each ‘civilization,’ between those who
believe in the use of violence to advance their cause and those who seek to rely
on persuasion, between Warriors and Preachers.”52 Etzioni defines warriors as
those who use religion to justify terrorism or violent coercion against nonbe-
lievers; preachers are those who might pursue illiberal political objectives but
do so through persuasion, not coercion. He rejects Bernard Lewis’s contention
that the solution to Islamic violence is to secularize and modernize Muslim
nations. Rather, he argues that “illiberal Moderate Muslims,” those who do not
support Western secular conceptions of human rights, democracy, and reli-
gion and politics, are nevertheless “our political allies” in opposing those who
advocate violence, terrorism, and unjust war.53 Etzioni is strategic in that he
avoids monolithic and reductionist approaches to religious violence that fail to
acknowledge the diversity of views within and among religious traditions on
the use of force and political theology, and the complex relationship between
the two. But his analysis of religious violence needs nuancing.
Religious traditions have taken three distinct approaches to the ethics of
force: holy war, just war, and pacifism, or principled nonviolence. Etzioni’s
warriors represent the first approach. In holy war, there are no limits to the
use of force because it is necessary to defend and promote ultimate religious
ends. The principal contemporary forms of holy war are extremist forms of
Islam, personified by Osama bin Laden,54 and extremist forms of nationalism,
in which preserving or promoting ethnic or national identity justify total war
and indiscriminate violence. Etzioni’s preachers fall under either the just war
or pacifist approaches. Most contemporary forms of the just war tradition reject
holy war, and many share with pacifism a strong presumption against the use of
force. Just war traditions recognize, however, that the limited use of force may
sometimes be justified to achieve limited goals, such as defending the innocent
against aggression. The pacifist tradition, exemplified by the traditional peace
churches in Christianity, considers nonviolence to be an exceptionless norm.
Etzioni’s focus on warriors versus preachers is helpful to a point, but it
needs further nuance on the role of violence and some modification on the role
of political theology. Obviously, religious peacebuilding has to be about finding
nonviolent ways to resolve conflict, but it need not be grounded in principled
nonviolence. The first task of religious peacebuilders is to delegitimate holy
war and abuses of the just war tradition. Perhaps paradoxically, those best posi-
tioned to do so are not pacifists but those who preach a restrictive interpretation
of just war. My own Christian tradition has a long and less-than-proud record
of holy war. The refinement and narrowing of the just war tradition, not the
emergence of pacifism, ultimately delegitimated holy war within mainstream
Christianity.55 Just war norms continue to be used, even by pacifists, to counter
the religious and moral appeals of terrorists and contemporary holy warriors.
In Northern Ireland, one of the most important contributions of Catholic and
Protestant leaders to peacebuilding was to appeal to just war norms to con-

demn IRA and Loyalist paramilitary violence.56
Properly used, the just war tradition can serve not only to delegitimate
religious violence but also as a valuable form of violence prevention and con-
flict mitigation. Religious leaders are often in the forefront in using just war
categories to oppose their own government’s resort to military force and con-
demn the indiscriminate and disproportionate uses of force, which so often
fuel cycles of violence. The just war tradition also helps counter the widely
held realist view that morality has little or nothing to do with issues of national
security and war. Furthermore, a restrictive just war interpretation allows reli-
gious leaders to challenge holy war and the permissive abuses of the just war
tradition while not being dismissed as morally irrelevant in the face of geno-
cide, ethnic cleansing, and blatant aggression. A theology, ethics, and praxis of
nonviolent peacebuilding has a lot to learn from the tradition of nonviolence,
especially the seriousness with which it pursues alternatives to war. An ethic
of peacebuilding, however, is not an alternative to the just war tradition but a
necessary complement to it. An ethic of peacebuilding is grounded, as Marc
Gopin suggests, in the recognition that pacifists are not alone in wanting to
strengthen the capacity of religious peacebuilders to effectively engage in con-
flict resolution strategies as an alternative to the use of force.57 For these rea-
sons, religious peacebuilding must be attentive to a nuanced understanding of
religious teachings on the ethics of war and how they interact with an ethics
of peacebuilding.
But what of Etzioni’s view that illiberal religious moderates are not a signif-
icant problem for peacebuilders? Etzioni rightly rejects the secularist argument
that the solution to religious violence is to secularize and modernize highly
religious societies. But he does not give enough weight to the role of politi-
cal theology in fomenting conflict. It matters a great deal whether religious
traditions are “illiberal” or not; exclusivist political theologies are not “moder-
ate” simply because they might reject violence. Efforts to delegitimate religious
warriors must be tied to an effort to delegitimate the political theologies and
nationalist ideologies that undergird their holy wars and abuses of the just war
tradition.
One of the toughest peacebuilding challenges in places like Sri Lanka and
Israel-Palestine is not religious violence but religious nationalism. The link
between religion and nationalism might seem less terrifying, but it is arguably
a much greater source of injustice and violence than religious militants preach-
ing holy war. Religion plays a peacebuilding role when it embraces inclusivist
forms of civic nationalism and legitimate expressions of patriotism while con-
demning chauvinist and exclusivist forms of religious nationalism. In Bosnia,
the problem was not that some religious leaders appealed to just war norms to
justify the use of force to stop ethnic cleansing. Rather, the problem was find-
ing religious resources that could delegitimate the chauvinist forms of nation-
alism that fueled the ethnic cleansing.
Similarly, religious terrorism is based on a belief that faith demands or
sanctions violence. According to Philpott, however,
Near the center of virtually every religious terrorist group’s beliefs

also lies a political theology. They believe that one or more regimes is
illegitimate for having defiled and failed to promote authentic faith,
and should be replaced by one where political authority is tightly
meshed with religious authority, which actively promotes right reli-
gion, and that thereby subordinates other religious communities.58
He finds that 93 percent of all religious terrorist groups hold an “integrationist
political theology. They have taken up the gun to replace corrupted, secularized
orders with ones where political authority is rightly oriented.”59 If Philpott is
correct that a particular form of political theology, particularly Islamic reviv-
alism, is behind most religious terrorism, then the solution lies not just in
condemning religious justifications of terrorism but, more so, in the efforts of
more responsible voices within Islam to counter this political theology.
Religious peacebuilders need not resolve the historic debate between pac-
ifism and just war. These traditions address the important but narrow ques-
tion of the ethics of the use of force; they cannot address the wider range of
issues that must be part of religious peacebuilding. The task for religious
peacebuilding is not to embrace principled nonviolence but to use insights
from both the pacifist and just war traditions to delegitimate unjustifiable
violence, especially holy war.60 The emphasis in both traditions on the moral
imperative of finding alternatives to the use of military force point to the need
to deepen the theological, ethical, and practical bases for strengthening the
capacity to prevent and resolve conflicts through nonviolent means. Perhaps
most important is the need to go beyond the categories of just war and paci-
fism to delegitimate the political theologies and ideologies that fuel violence.
More Mahatma Gandhis are always needed, but even more needed are more
Reinhold Niebuhrs.61
The Significance of Inter-Religious and Ecumenical Peacebuilding

Inter-religious and ecumenical peacebuilding has increased significantly in
response to the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, and the identity con-
flicts of the 1990s. Organizations like the World Conference on Religions for
Peace, the Appeal of Conscience Foundation, and the Sant’Egidio Community;
the peacebuilding programs of the World Council of Churches and other inter-
religious and ecumenical bodies at the international, national, and local levels;
the inter-religious peacebuilding programs of the major faith-based relief and
development agencies; the religious peacebuilding program of the U.S. Insti-
tute of Peace and the Tony Blair Faith Foundation; and a host of inter-religious
NGOs are examples of these collaborative efforts.62
Inter-religious peacebuilding usually has one or more of five purposes: (1)
deepening relationships, (2) improving understanding, (3) finding common
ground on beliefs and issues, (4) promoting common action, and (5) encourag-
ing complementary action. Each goal is worthy in itself, but a strategic approach
to inter-religious peacebuilding defines the purpose of a particular initiative in
light of the nature of the conflict, the theory of change underlying the engage-
ment, and the actors involved.
As with peacebuilding generally, the purposes of inter-religious peace-
building must be defined in light of the nature of the conflict. Inter-religious
peacebuilding often suffers from a paradox: the more religion is central to a
conflict, the greater the need for inter-religious peacebuilding; the less religion
is central to the conflict, the greater the likelihood that inter-religious peace-
building will bear fruit.
Because many agree with the secularist assumption that religious differ-
ences lead to conflict, many also assume that a main purpose of inter-religious
peacebuilding is to find common ground on ethical and theological beliefs.
Interestingly, in practice, the formal inter-religious dialogues that seek to resolve
long-standing differences on such issues often take place on separate tracks
from those dialogues that relate to particular conflicts. Major inter-religious ini-
tiatives on peace in the Middle East, for example, would not have been possible
without the relationships of trust that have developed between Jews and Chris-
tians through formal theological dialogues, but the initiatives themselves have
usually been undertaken outside of these formal theological dialogues. This
separation between dialogue around doctrine and dialogue around peacebuild-
ing is due in part to a desire not to allow political conflicts to sidetrack doctrinal
dialogues and in part to a conviction that the long-term process of resolving
doctrinal differences will have little impact on conflicts that, while having a
religious dimension, are not about religious beliefs and differences.
Reinforcing commonalities in religious beliefs is an important purpose to
the extent that agreement on the sacredness of human life, the obligation to
seek the common good of all, and the rejection of religious violence provide
a deep foundation for inter-religious peacebuilding. But making this a central
purpose of inter-religious engagement can be futile and even counterproduc-
tive. It can be futile because, as Appleby points out, “it is not apparent that even
broad concepts such as forgiveness and reconciliation are universal beyond
their most generalized usage. . . . Religions, in short, have not arrived at a
universal set of values or priorities in pursuing peace.”63 Religious traditions
hold different world-views, and even within religious traditions and individual
denominations, there are vast differences in approaches to conflict. It is not
necessary to discover or agree on a global theology and ethic of peacebuilding
for religion to be effective in peacebuilding. Efforts to do so take an enormous
amount of time and resources and usually produce a least-common-denom-
inator approach to religious peacebuilding whose impact is minimal, in part
because it emasculates the richness and distinctiveness of existing traditions,
thereby reducing the ability of religious concepts to motivate and inspire peo-
ple to be peacebuilders. For Catholics, the sacrament of reconciliation can be a
powerful motivation for seeking communal forgiveness and healing, whereas
an effort by diverse religious traditions to come to agreement on the role of for-
giveness in a conflict might be a source of unnecessary division over doctrinal
nuances and differences over how forgiveness would apply in the case at hand.
As a result, such efforts often result in watered-down statements that lack the
capacity to move ordinary believers. The time and resources spent trying to find
common ground on theological issues is often better spent pursuing collabo-
rative or complementary action on carefully selected issues that relate more
directly to the conflict.
Efforts to find common ground can be especially counterproductive in iden-
tity conflicts where a community’s religious and communal identity and even
survival are threatened. In those cases, efforts to deemphasize what is distinc-
tive in one’s own religious tradition can exacerbate the problem of what Gopin
calls “negative identity,” the tendency to define one’s religion in opposition to
the “other.” The solution is not to downplay religious identity but to find those
elements within that identity that can contribute to peacebuilding. As Gopin
notes, seeking common commitments might work with more moderate seg-
ments of religious groups, but such efforts will not work with religious extrem-
ists until well after the conflict has abated.64 He continues, “especially during
a crisis, it is vital that we elicit that which is most unique and most sacred as
a source of prosocial practice and social change, if we truly want to move the
entire religious culture to a new and lasting commitment to peacemaking.”65
Clearly, when religion and religious identity are being used or manipulated
to deepen communal divisions and conflict, inter-religious dialogue is essential
to overcome mistrust and misunderstandings, deepen relationships that can
bridge the communal divide, and take at least symbolic common actions to
counter the extremists who preach religious conflict. Particularly in conflicts
with a religious dimension, however, the purpose and benefit of inter-religious
engagement might not necessarily be in common action but in what the com-
ing together allows one to do alone within one’s community. As an instru-
ment of peacebuilding, inter-religious collaboration often has limited direct
impact; complementary action (not collaborative action) is often more effective.
The trust needed for inter-religious collaboration is often undermined by a
gap between inter-religious statements for peace and what the signatories say
to their own communities. Effective inter-religious dialogue enables partici-
pants to go back and work within their communities to help them break out of
myths of unique victimization, counter stereotypes and prejudices, and promote
better understanding and respect for the hopes, fears, and legitimate grievances
of the other community. A major test for inter-religious dialogue amid iden-
tity conflicts is whether it enhances the ability of moderate religious leaders,
who are usually the participants in these dialogues, to draw on their improved
understanding of the “enemy” and what is distinctive in their own tradition to
more effectively counter the extremists in their own community.
In Mindanao in the southern Philippines, the Bishops-Ulema Dialogue
was established in 1996 to bring together Catholic and Muslim leaders to sup-
port the formal peace process between the government and Muslim rebels.
After more than a decade of dialogue, mostly about very general areas of com-
mon ground on religious beliefs, both sides have concluded that the next chal-
lenge is to do much more sustained education and dialogue within their own
communities, who remain mired in myths and misconceptions about the other
community.
In Northern Ireland, dialogue between Catholic and Presbyterian lead-

ers from the United States and Northern Ireland led to a level of trust that
resulted in a groundbreaking joint statement and initiative on fair employment.
Equally important, however, was the impact of the ecumenical relationships on
the work of the individual religious bodies. The U.S. Catholic bishops would
routinely send their draft statements on Northern Ireland to their Presbyte-
rian counterparts in the United States and Northern Ireland to ensure that the
bishops did not inadvertently misinterpret the situation or further inflame the
sectarian divide. Likewise, the U.S. Presbyterian Church would send its draft
statements to Catholic leaders for review.
Unfortunately, in part because of the focus on inter-religious dialogue
where religion is a dimension of a conflict, not enough attention is paid to
some of the most effective cases of inter-religious peacebuilding, cases where
religion plays a central role in society but is not central to the conflict. In these
cases, inter-religious peacebuilding can be effective for the simple reason
that it is easier to find common ground on issues at stake in the conflict and
religious actors can more easily bring what David Little calls an “empathetic
detachment.” Empathetic detachment requires a reputation for moral engage-
ment and concern combined with an ability to transcend narrow partisanships.
“Prominent religious identity,” Little suggests, “provides a badge of trustwor-
thiness and impartiality that can be of great benefit in either formal or informal
negotiations.”66 Between 1999 and 2002, the Inter-religious Council of Sierra
Leone, for example, facilitated a peace agreement between the rebels and the
government because the religious leaders, working together, were able to use
the trust and moral credibility they enjoyed to build bridges between conflict-
ing parties.67 The work of the Acholi religious leaders in brokering peace in
northern Uganda is another example of the power of united efforts at peace-
building where religion is not a factor in the conflict.
Linking the purposes of inter-religious peacebuilding to an assessment of
the nature of the conflict is closely related to the theories of change that under-
lie these initiatives.68 Reina Neufeldt identifies four theories of change that are
usually at work in inter-religious engagement. Affective theories focus on (1)
changing the hearts and minds of participants about the conflict and each other,
and (2) building and deepening relationships across deeply divided societies by
providing a safe space for those from conflicting sides to come together. The
more ambitious social and political purposes include (3) promoting cultural
change by overcoming sectarian stereotypes and building a culture of peace,
and (4) promoting structural or policy changes by, for example, mediating in a
peace process, advocating for disarmament, or promoting democratization in
response to repressive governmental policies.69
Effective inter-religious peacebuilding closely ties purposes of inter-
religious engagement to realistic theories of change. Each of the purposes
of inter-religious peacebuilding could be linked to one or more of these the-
ories of change. As already mentioned, in Northern Ireland, one purpose
of such dialogue was to strengthen and improve understanding among the
moderates in each community so that they could address sectarianism more
effectively by working within their own community. Another purpose was to

deepen relationships of trust so that religious leaders could respond to crises
in ways that would reduce the risk of escalation. In Macedonia, the purpose of
inter-religious efforts was to establish parent–teacher groups that included
Muslims, Orthodox, and Catholics based on the theory that such common
action around issues not related to the conflict would change hearts and minds
and build bridges across religious and ethnic divides. In northern Uganda,
united advocacy on amnesty, the International Criminal Court indictments,
and other policy issues was a key element of the religious leaders’ efforts to
promote the peace process.
With the exception of some elements of the fourth strategy—for exam-
ple, responding to crises, mediating in peace processes, and pursuing spe-
cific policy initiatives—these strategies for change are long term and difficult
to measure and thus easily dismissed as irrelevant. Gopin argues, however,
that conflict resolution strategies, which tend to be crisis-driven and problem-
focused, limit the creative potential of religion. “By contrast,” he maintains,
“eliciting long-term strategies of coexistence well before a crisis, in a way that
draws out the religious tendency across many cultures to dream and conceive
of better realities and work toward them, positively engages religious traditions
when they are not driven into extreme positions by the passions of conflict
and the suffering of their constituencies.”70 Given the long-term nature of the
strategies for change, effective inter-religious peacebuilding must be based on
long-term, sustained engagement across the timeline of conflict, from before
violence erupts to well after it is over.71
The nature and effectiveness of inter-religious peacebuilding is also a func-
tion of who is involved—elites, mid-level, or grassroots; insider only or also
outsider. Inter-religious peacebuilding often involves religious leaders, but in
many places there is also a proliferation of mid-level and grassroots inter-re-
ligious peacebuilding. Given the role of religious leaders in their communi-
ties, inter-religious dialogue is likely to be most successful when it is part of a
larger, multilevel process that has been modeled and encouraged by religious
leaders.72 Unfortunately, too often, inter-religious engagement occurs at the
leadership level or in ad hoc grassroots initiatives with little connection or
coherence between them.
Inter-religious engagement can be impeded by difficulties in finding dia-
logue partners when, for example, hierarchical Christian communities seek to
engage with decentralized Muslim communities or there are significant power
imbalances (e.g., the Muslim and Christian communities in Iraq), which usu-
ally leaves little incentive for the dominant religious group to engage.
Most inter-religious dialogues involve moderates. This is partly making a
virtue of necessity—extremists are likely to see dialogue as entailing illegiti-
mate compromise or risking their own status—and partly a well-established
strategy—moderates gain a voice and legitimacy that will help them mar-
ginalize the extremists. Engaging moderates enhances prospects for effec-
tive common or complementary action and avoids giving legitimacy to those
who misuse religion to foment division and violence. But it also limits the
effectiveness of dialogue because those most responsible for the violence are
not engaged.73 Sometimes, however, the engagement by moderates can build
the trust necessary to allow them, together or alone, to reach out to the extrem-
ists within their own community without being accused by the other side of
legitimating extremism.
The effectiveness of inter-religious peacebuilding can be enhanced when
outsiders (those not from the area of conflict) contribute to the dialogue of
insiders (those from the area of conflict). The Presbyterian and Catholic leaders
in the United States worked with their counterparts in Northern Ireland on a
twelve-year transatlantic ecumenical initiative—the Inter-Church Committee
on Northern Ireland—that opened up possibilities for collaboration that did
not exist when the ecumenical collaboration was limited to Northern Ireland.74
Through ecumenical speaking tours and other visits to the United States, this
initiative helped counteract the Presbyterian sense of siege by giving Presby-
terian leaders a voice in the United States they had not had before, especially
among Catholic elites who had influence over U.S. policy. The involvement of
U.S. religious leaders also provided the necessary impetus for the four main
churches in Ireland to undertake controversial initiatives, such as a common
initiative on the neuralgic issue of fair employment.
Inter-religious peacebuilding can be effective if its purposes are clear; they
are related to the nature of the conflict; they are linked to realistic, mostly long-
term strategies for change; they involve sustained engagement by religious
leaders at all levels; and they are supported by coreligionists from outside the
area of conflict. A caution is in order, however. Inter-religious peacebuilding
is essential and can be extremely effective, but too much emphasis has been
placed on it to the exclusion of single-identity peacebuilding, or peacebuilding
within one’s own community.
Inter-religious peacebuilding faces obstacles that single-identity peace-
building does not. Inter-religious peacebuilding requires significant time and
resources that might better be used mobilizing one’s community for peace. As
Gopin points out, it is easier to convince someone to engage in peacebuilding
from within one’s community than it is to engage in authentic dialogue with
one’s adversary.75 Moreover, given the dynamics of conflicts with a religious
dimension, participation in inter-religious initiatives during times of crisis can
undermine one’s credibility with those within one’s community who are most
susceptible to the appeals of extremists.
Because it is prone to a least-common-denominator approach, inter-reli-
gious peacebuilding also lacks some of the power of single-identity peacebuild-
ing. In some of the world’s most devastating and long-standing conflicts, such
as Colombia and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, religion plays a key role
in peacebuilding, but inter-religious peacebuilding is largely irrelevant simply
because of the religious demographics of the country. The remarkable politi-
cal and social transformations in Poland, East Germany, the Philippines, and
Serbia were influenced by a single dominant religion, often with close ties to
national identity. Peacebuilding within one’s community can draw on the full
complement of a tradition’s rituals, beliefs, norms, spirituality, and communal
identity, which is not possible even in the most effective inter-religious peace-
building. Extremists within a religious tradition will most likely be marginal-
ized, not because the moderates are engaged in inter-religious initiatives but
because they can appeal to this rich set of religious resources to convince their
coreligionists that extremism is antithetical to their tradition. In short, inter-
religious peacebuilding is sometimes essential and effective, but it is often not
the most essential and effective form of religious peacebuilding.
Conclusion: Religious Peacebuilding and Policy
Jeff Stein, the national security editor at Congressional Quarterly, asked mem-
bers of Congress and the Bush administration who specialize in counterter-
rorism if they could explain the basic differences between Shiite and Sunni
Muslims, the two principal antagonists in Iraq and elsewhere. The FBI’s chief
of national security incorrectly thought that Iran and Hezbollah were Sunni. In
what he described as typical of most American counterterrorism officials, two
chairpersons of different House Intelligence subcommittees dealing with ter-
rorism also did not know the difference between the two Islamic traditions.76
Not surprisingly, in U.S. planning for postwar Iraq, especially the Pentagon’s
planning, relatively little attention was given the role of religion.77 In fact,
under the Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA), the only Iraqi ministry with-
out a shadow minister (i.e., a CPA overseer of the Iraqi minister) was religious
affairs. The CPA was also slow to recognize the significant peacebuilding role
of Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani and how the complex intra-Muslim divisions
in Iraq might contribute to conflict.
These anecdotes are symptomatic of a general incompetence with respect
to the role of religion in international affairs on the part of many foreign policy
elites, an incompetence rationalized by a secularist perspective, which, even
after 9/11, does not place a premium on developing a sophisticated understand-
ing of this role. Students of religion and U.S. foreign policy can resonate with
Albright’s complaint that although she had abundant expertise at her disposal
on virtually any foreign policy issue, she had almost no one to turn to on mat-
ters of religion.78
An extensive report on U.S. government engagement with religion by the
Center for Strategic and International Studies concluded that despite a signif-
icant increase in attention to religion since 9/11, major obstacles remain to
effective U.S. engagement with religion.
• U.S. government officials are often reluctant to address the issue
of religion, whether in response to a secular U.S. legal and political
tradition, in the context of America’s Judeo-Christian image overseas,
or simply because religion is perceived as too complicated or sensitive.
• Current U.S. government frameworks for approaching religion are
narrow, often approaching religions as problematic or monolithic
forces, overemphasizing a terrorism-focused analysis of Islam and
sometimes marginalizing religion as a peripheral humanitarian or

cultural issue.
• Institutional capacity to understand and approach religion is limited
due to legal limitations, lack of religious expertise or training, minimal
influence for religion-related initiatives, and a government primarily
structured to engage with other official state actors.79
This report recommends a variety of ways the United States could address
these obstacles to effective engagement with religion. The first task is to
enhance the institutional competence on religion throughout the U.S. foreign
policy apparatus. It would be helpful, for example, to expand the mission of
the State Department’s Office for International Religious Freedom and the
Commission on International Religious Freedom to include not just religious
freedom issues but also the less understood issue of religion, conflict, and
peacebuilding. Much more important, however, would be to develop exper-
tise on religion throughout the State Department, intelligence agencies, the
Defense Department, and other relevant agencies. Religion cannot continue to
be assigned to low-level cultural affairs officers at embassies who often have no
expertise in religion and whose portfolio is far too broad to develop any.80 The
United Nations would also benefit from a similar institutionalization of exper-
tise in religion by establishing a subcommission on religion as part of the new
Peacebuilding Commission or by ensuring that it has experts in religion on the
Peacebuilding Commission and its peacekeeping missions.
The second task is to increase engagement with a wide range of religious
actors while also reconsidering the nature of that engagement. Concerns about
engaging with or supporting terrorists have severely limited the ability of the
U.S. government and, to a lesser extent, development organizations involved
in religious peacebuilding from working with any but “moderate” religious
actors in areas of conflict. Strengthening the moderates and marginalizing the
extremists is a reasonable strategy for change, but effective peacebuilding can-
not be limited to that single strategy. It is also important to engage with a wide
range of religious traditions, not just dominant groups, and to engage at multi-
ple levels (though it is appropriate for a government to give priority to religious
leaders given their often crucial role and so as not to appear to be undermining
those leaders).
The nature of engagement with religious actors is also important. The ten-
dency of policy makers to be concerned with religious entities mostly when they
play a political role in crisis situations limits the ability for effective engagement
in long-term, culture-changing peacebuilding which is the forte of religious
peacebuilding. Governments often place unrealistic expectations on religious
leaders because they seek short-term political impact during a crisis. In con-
flicts with a religious dimension, governments often try to convene religious
leaders or otherwise encourage religious peacebuilding under governmental
auspices. With some notable exceptions, these initiatives are misguided. Gov-
ernments should be wary of interfering in the internal dynamics of religious
bodies or attempting to coordinate or promote religious peacebuilding. In most
cases, direct and visible governmental involvement with a religious peacebuild-

ing initiative is not needed (often the religious groups are doing much more
than the government knows or acknowledges), nor is it helpful. Governments
rarely have the knowledge, credibility, or neutrality needed to intervene, and
governmental involvement can undermine the independence and credibility
of religious bodies. More appropriate and helpful are government efforts to
include experts in religion and, in exceptional cases, religious leaders indirectly
in negotiating and implementing peace processes. Because religious leaders
usually are deeply rooted in their communities and might have a broader, more
long-term vision than political leaders, their input into the process can help
ensure that a peace agreement will take into account issues crucial to a sustain-
able peace.81
The third, and by far most important, task is to reconsider the substantive
approach to religion. Despite rhetoric about Islam being a religion of peace, the
emphasis of U.S. policy on the “war of ideas” between the West and Islamic
extremism risks framing the challenge much as bin Laden and other religious
extremists do—as a war of Islam against the West and the West against Islam.82
The almost exclusive focus on extremism has inhibited the development of
a sophisticated understanding of Islam and has also diverted attention and
resources from the role of other religious traditions in conflicts. The preoccu-
pation with Islamic extremism arises from legitimate concerns about a grave
threat, but it also reflects the predisposition among policy elites to see religion
mostly as a problem to be dealt with, rather than a force for peace. The United
States and other nations recognize the critical role of religious entities in relief
and development and have long engaged with these efforts; a similar apprecia-
tion is needed of the positive peacebuilding role of these same religious actors.
When religion is taken seriously by policy makers, it is usually treated in instru-
mentalist ways. It needs to be considered on its own terms, not simply as one
of a host of NGOs or potential political allies in promoting the government’s
agenda in a particular conflict. It is a daunting task that will require resources
that do not yet exist within the policy-making apparatus; religious peacebuild-
ing has to be considered not just from a political science or conflict resolution
perspective but also from a more robust and holistic theological, sociological,
and cultural perspective.83
The final substantive issue that has to be addressed more forthrightly is the
impact that U.S. policies have on the capacity of religious actors to build peace.
The U.S. intervention in Iraq has fed Islamic extremism and deepened divi-
sions within Islam and between Islam and Christianity—just as many religious
leaders predicted it would. It is also difficult to exaggerate how U.S. support for
dictatorial regimes throughout the Middle East and its failure to pursue vigor-
ously an equitable peace between Israelis and Palestinians have diminished the
peacebuilding capacity of moderate religious actors and strengthened the hand
of religious extremists. The cultural impact of U.S. policies is also critical. Even
public diplomacy programs on religion tend not to listen to and learn from reli-
gious actors but promote Western, secular approaches to religion and democ-
ratization that are seen as threats by even moderate religious actors in some
cultures.84 If the United States continues to be seen as the principal engine

of Western secularization, individualism, and materialism, bin Laden and his
supporters will have little trouble recruiting sympathizers from the many who
see such efforts at secularization as further proof of America’s anti-Islamic
neocolonialism.
NOTES
1. Madeleine Albright, The Mighty and the Almighty: Reflections on America, God,
and World Affairs (New York: HarperCollins, 2006), p. 8.
2. The secularist paradigm draws on the literature analyzing the dynamics
of secularization, but goes beyond this analysis to assert the normative value of
secularization. For a particularly polemical example of the ideology of secularism, see,
e.g., Christopher Hitchens, God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything (New
York: Twelve Books, 2007).
3. Zbigniew Brzezinski, “The Illusion of Control,” in Powers, G., Christiansen,
D., and Hennemeyer, R., eds., Peacemaking: Moral and Policy Choices for a New World
(Washington, D.C.: U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, 1994), pp. 26, 31. Reprinted
from Zbigniew Brzezinski, Out of Control (New York: Macmillan, 1993).
4. Ibid., p. 31.
5. See Joseph Nye, Jr., Soft Power: The Means to Success in World Politics (New York:
Public Affairs, 2004), pp. 5–17; Stanley Hoffmann, “The Case for Leadership,” Foreign
Policy (Winter 1990–1991): 25–30.
6. Samuel Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World
Order. (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996): p. 66. See also Samuel Huntington,
“If Not Civilization, What?” Foreign Affairs 72 (November/December 1993):
192. Samuel Huntington, “The Clash of Civilizations?” Foreign Affairs 72
(Summer 1993): 49.
7. Brzezinski, “The Illusion of Control,” pp. 26, 31.
8. R. Scott Appleby, The Ambivalence of the Sacred: Religion, Violence, and
Reconciliation (Lanham, Md.: Rowan & Littlefield, 2000): pp. 5–7.
9. Some excellent examples of this literature include Mark Rogers, Tom Bamat,
and Julie Ideh, eds., Pursuing Just Peace: An Overview and Case Studies for Faith-Based
Peacebuilders (Baltimore, Md.: Catholic Relief Services, 2008); David Little, Peacemakers
in Action: Profiles of Religion in Conflict Resolution (New York: Cambridge University
Press, 2007); Tsjeard Bouta, S. Ayse Kadayifci-Orellana, Mohammed Abu-Nimer, Faith-
Based Peace-Building: Mapping and Analysis of Christian, Muslim and Multi-Faith Actors
(Washington, D.C.: Netherlands Institute of International Relations in cooperation
with Salam Institute for Peace and Justice, 2005); Harold Coward and Gordon Smith,
eds., Religion and Peacebuilding (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2004);
Douglas Johnston, ed., Faith-Based Diplomacy: Trumping Realpolitik (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2003); Mary Ann Cejka and Thomas Bamat, eds., Artisans of Peace:
Grassroots Peacemaking among Christian Communities (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books,
2003); David Smock, ed., Interfaith Dialogue and Peacebuilding (Washington, D.C.: U.S.
Institute of Peace, 2002); Marc Gopin, Between Eden and Armageddon: The Future of
World Religions, Violence, and Peacemaking (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000).
10. Appleby, The Ambivalence of the Sacred, pp. 76–78.
11. Henry Kissinger, “Bosnia: Reasons for Care,” Washington Post, December 10,
1995, p. C9.
12. Isak Svensson, “Fighting with Faith: Religion and Conflict Resolution in Civil
Wars,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 51 (2007): 932–934.
13. Ibid., pp. 938–939. See also Monica Duffy Toft, “Religion, Civil War,
and International Order,” BCSIA Discussion Paper 2006–03, Kennedy School of
Government, Harvard University, July 2006. Toft finds that since 1940, “most civil
wars are fought over issues not involving religion, except perhaps peripherally: religious
civil wars are rare.” Monica Duffy Toft, “Getting Religion: The Puzzling Case of Islam
and Civil War,” International Security 3 (Spring 2007): 97–131. On the other hand, Toft
found that there has been an increase in the relative number of religious civil wars
over the years, with religious civil wars making up a disproportionate number of the
ongoing wars after 2000 (eight of seventeen as of 2000).
14. Only 8 of 49 militant sects (out of 233 communal groups) in the early 1990s
were defined solely or mainly by their religious beliefs. Ted Robert Gurr, Minorities
at Risk: A Global View of Ethnopolitical Conflicts (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of
Peace, 1993), p. 317.
15. According to Philpott, citing Bruce Hoffman, Inside Terrorism (New York:
Colombia University Press, 1998), in 1968, none of the world’s 11 terrorist groups
were religious; by 1980, 2 of 64 terrorist groups were religious; by 1995, 26 of 56
(46 percent) of all terrorist groups were religious. Today, based on the Terrorism
Knowledge Base, Philpott finds that 95 of 262 (36 percent) of known terrorist groups
are identifiably religious. The knowledge base is presented by the National Memorial
Institute for the Prevention of Terrorism and can be found at http://www.tkb.org/
Home.jsp. Daniel Philpott, “Explaining the Political Ambivalence of Religion,”
American Political Science Review 101 (August 2007): 520.
16. Ten of the forty-four (23 percent) religious civil wars recurred, compared with
only eleven of ninety (12 percent) of the nonreligious civil wars. There were 28,974
versus 7,666 average deaths per year for central and peripheral religious involvement,
respectively. Toft, “Getting Religion,” p. 116.
17. Svensson, “Fighting with Faith,” pp. 930–949.
18. Ibid., pp. 938–942.
19. See ibid., p. 932.
20. Amartya Sen, Identity and Violence: The Illusion of Destiny (New York: Norton,
2006), p. 76.
21. Ted Robert Gurr, Minorities at Risk: A Global View of Ethnopolitical Conflicts
(Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace, 1993).
22. For a detailed evaluation of efforts to quantify religion in conflict and other
situations, see Jonathan Fox, A World Survey of Religion and the State (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2008), pp. 32–61.
23. On the views and strategy of the IRA, see Padraig O’Malley, The Uncivil Wars:
Ireland Today (Belfast: Blackstaff Press, 1983), pp. 258–313.
24. No one term adequately describes the distinction that needs to be made.
Appleby rightly notes in The Ambivalence of the Sacred, for example, that the problem is
not religious militancy, because religious militants include both bin Laden and Martin
Luther King Jr., suicide bombers, and saintly advocates of nonviolence. The phrase
“religious extremism” is not an entirely adequate alternative, but I use it to distinguish
between those religious actors who seek a just peace in conflict situations and those
who foment violence, division and sectarianism.
25. On the question of religion, there is a significant gap between the views of
the policy elites in Washington, London, Paris, Berlin, Moscow, and Tokyo and the
views of ordinary people around the world. In fall 2003, the Zogby polling firm and
the University of Rochester released what they called the first ever worldwide poll on
religious beliefs, which found that people care about religion far more than politics,
that a clear majority associated violence within their own country with politics not
religion, and that a majority says that their country would be better if it were more
religious. Poll results are summarized at http://www.zogbyworldwide.com/news/
ReadNews1.cfm.
26. Pope Benedict XVI made this distinction in his message for the twentieth
anniversary of the Inter-religious Meeting of Prayer for Peace, initiated by his
predecessor, John Paul II, at Assisi in October 1986: “demonstrations of violence
cannot be attributed to religion as such but to the cultural limitations with which
it is lived and develops in time. . . . In fact, attestations of the close bond that exists
between the relationship with God and the ethics of love are recorded in all great
religious traditions.” David Little warns that those who claim that “good [or authentic]
religion brings peace” oversimplify, but notes that one lesson from a study of religious
peacebuilders is that “proper religion exhibits a preference for pursuing peace by
peaceful means (nonviolence over violence) and for combining the promotion of
peace with the promotion of justice.” D. Little, “Religion, Violent Conflict, and
Peacemaking,” in Little, Peacemakers in Action, p. 429, 437.
27. Appleby, The Ambivalence of the Sacred, p. 8.
28. Ibid., p. 9.
29. Catholic Almanac (Huntington, Ind.: Our Sunday Visitor, 2009).
30. See Appleby and Lederach, chapter 1 in this volume.
31. David Steele, “An Introductory Overview of Faith-Based Peacebuilding,” in
Mark Rogers, Tom Bamat, and Julie Ideh (eds.), Pursuing Just Peace: An Overview and
Case Studies for Faith-Based Peacebuilders (Baltimore, Md.: Catholic Relief Services,
2008), pp. 22–32.
32. Ibid.
33. Appleby, The Ambivalence of the Sacred, pp. 7–8.
34. Albright, The Mighty and the Almighty, p. 77.
35. I borrow this formulation from J. Bryan Hehir, “Responsibilities and
Temptations of Power: A Catholic View,” Journal of Law and Religion 8:1 & 2 (1990),
p. 75.
36. Little, “Religion, Violent Conflict, and Peacemaking,” p. 438.
37. Philpott shows that radical Islamic revivalist groups, while small in number,
foment conflict by sacralizing such conflicts. Philpott, “Explaining the Political
Ambivalence of Religion,” pp. 515–516.
39. Douglas Johnston and Brian Cox, “Faith-Based Diplomacy and Preventive
Engagement,” in Douglas Johnston, ed., Faith-Based Diplomacy (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2003): p. 14.
40. Lenard Cohen reviews surveys on religious affiliation in “Bosnia’s ‘Tribal
Gods’: The Role of Religion in Nationalist Politics,” in Paul Mojzes, ed., The Religion
and the War in Bosnia (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998), pp. 43–54.
41. Dowd suggests that the low level of meaningful religious affiliation in
Rwanda was, in part, a function of the fact that most Rwandans were Catholic, so
Catholic identity meant less than if Rwanda had been a more religiously plural
country. According to Dowd, there is “an inverse relationship between the extent to
which membership is inclusive and the meaningfulness of membership. The more
exclusive membership is, the more meaningful membership is.” Robert Dowd,
“Religious Pluralism and Peace: Lessons from Sub-Saharan Africa in Comparative

Perspective,” Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of American Political Science
Association, Chicago, September 2–5, 2004. Dowd might be correct in his assertion,
but factors other than religious pluralism must be at work. Otherwise, it is difficult
to explain the role of the Catholic Church in Poland, the Philippines, El Salvador,
Colombia, and other religiously homogenous countries in mobilizing the masses in
opposition to repressive governments.
42. Timothy A. Byrnes, Transnational Catholicism in Postcommunist Europe
(Lanham, Md.: Rowman and Littlefield, 2001).
43. John Paul Lederach, Building Peace: Sustainable Reconciliation in Divided
Societies (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace Press, 1997), p. 39.
44. Lederach and Appleby, chapter 1 of this volume.
45. Little, Peacemakers in Action, pp. 4–6.
46. Kelsie Thompson, “Uganda: Alliances for Peace: The Acholi Religious
Leaders Peace Initiative,” in Mark Rogers, Tom Bamat, and Julie Ideh (eds.), Pursuing
Just Peace: An Overview and Case Studies for Faith-Based Peacebuilders (Baltimore, Md.:
Catholic Relief Services, 2008), pp. 133–144.
47. See, e.g., William Bole, Drew Christiansen, S.J., and Robert Hennemeyer,
Forgiveness in International Politics: An Alternative Road to Peace (Washington, D.C.:
U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2004); Raymond Helmick and Rodney Petersen,
eds., Forgiveness and Reconciliation: Religion, Public Policy, and Conflict Transformation
(Philadelphia: Templeton Foundation Press, 2001); Donald Shriver, An Ethic for
Enemies: Forgiveness in Politics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998).
48. For a highly nuanced analysis of the wide variety of religion–state
relationships around the world, see Fox, A World Survey of Religion and the State.
49. Lederach and Appleby, chapter 1 of this book.
50. Amitai Etzioni, Security First: For a Muscular, Moral Foreign Policy (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 2007), p. 152.
51. Ibid., p. 163.
52. Ibid., p. 151.
53. Ibid.
54. According to Philpott, 91 percent of all religious terrorist groups are radical
Islamic revivalists. Philpott, “Explaining the Political Ambivalence of Religion,”
p. 521.
55. For historical studies of religious and ethical approaches to war and peace,
see, e.g., Roland Bainton, Christian Attitudes toward War and Peace: A Historical Survey
and Critical Re-evaluation (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1960); James Turner Johnson,
Just War Tradition and the Restraint of War: A Moral and Historical Inquiry (Princeton,
N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1981).
56. David Little points out that the Rev. Dr. Roy Magee, the Presbyterian minister
who helped convince Loyalist paramilitaries to give up their violence, is not a pacifist,
nor are several of the other religious peacebuilders he examines. Little, “Religion,
Violent Conflict, and Peacemaking,” pp. 436–437.
57. Gopin, Between Eden and Armageddon, pp. 30–31.
58. Philpott, “Explaining the Political Ambivalence of Religion,” p. 520.
59. Ibid.
60. On the limited role of the just war tradition in peacebuilding, see Gopin,
Between Eden and Armageddon, pp. 35–37.
61. Reinhold Niebuhr was a twentieth-century American theologian generally
known as a “realist.”
62. For an excellent review of the plethora of major inter-religious dialogues

since 9/11, see John J. DeGioia, Islam and the West: Annual Report on the State of
Dialogue (World Economic Forum, January 2008), pp. 56–69.
64. Gopin, Between Eden and Armageddon, p. 63.
65. Ibid., p. 64.
66. Little, Peacemakers in Action, p. 440.
67. Ibid., pp. 278–298, 440–441.
68. For a general discussion of peacebuilding and theories of change, see
John Paul Lederach, Reina Neufeldt, and Hal Culbertson, Reflective Peacebuilding:
A Planning, Monitoring, and Learning Tool Kit (Notre Dame, Ind.: Joan B. Kroc Institute
for International Peace Studies, University of Notre Dame, 2007)
69. I am drawing on an excellent analysis of theories of change in inter-religious
peacebuilding; see Reina Neufeldt, “Interfaith Dialogue: Assessing the State of Theory,
Practice and Impact,” unpublished manuscript, 2008.
71. “We are all familiar with what I have privately dubbed ‘the dialogue of
drones,’ a polite—but tedious—exchange of theological generalities and self-serving
slogans. . . . But that process takes time; it involves repeated meetings, sometimes over
months and years, and it requires secluded spaces. Fruitful dialogue is not a quick
fix and it does not happen in a fishbowl.” Jane Dammen McAuliffe, “Context and
Continuity Is Crucial,” in World Economic Forum Report on West-Islam Dialogue, p. 61.
72. Gopin, Between Eden and Armageddon, pp. 42–43.
73. Thomas Banchoff, “The Circle of Dialogue,” in N. Tranchet and D. Rienstra,
eds., Islam and the West: Annual Report on the State of Dialogue (Geneva: World
Economic Forum, 2008), p. 67.
74. Josiah H. Beeman and Robert Mahony, “The Institutional Churches and
the Process of Reconciliation in Northern Ireland: Recent Progress in Presbyterian—
Roman Catholic Relations,” in Dermot Keogh and Michael H. Haltzell, eds., Northern
Ireland and the Politics of Reconciliation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1993), pp. 150–159.
76. Jeff Stein, “Can You Tell a Sunni from a Shiite?” New York Times, October 17,
2006, p. A23.
77. Liora Danan, “Mixed Blessings: U.S. Government Engagement with Religion
in Conflict-Prone Settings,” A Report of the Post-Conflict Reconstruction Project,
Center for Strategic and International Studies, July 2007, p. 6.
78. Albright, The Mighty and the Almighty, p. 75.
79. Danan, “Mixed Blessings,” p. 3.
80. Many of the recommendations for improving the U.S. government’s capacity
to address religious freedom issues would also be relevant to religion and conflict
issues. See Final Report of the Advisory Committee on Religious Freedom Abroad to the
Secretary of State and to the President of the United States, May 17, 1999.
81. Little, Peacemakers in Action, pp. 20–21.
82. Danan, “Mixed Blessings,” p. 43.
83. Ibid.
84. See ibid., pp. 14–17.
Conclusion: Strategic
Peacebuilding beyond the
Liberal Peace
Oliver P. Richmond
The concept and theories of strategic peacebuilding developed in

this study are indicative of a much needed and radical attempt to
reframe the liberal peacebuilding project of the post–Cold War world.
This project was derived from the “UN revolution” and the “age of
peacebuilding” that Philpott refers to in the introduction to this
volume. It is now clear that what appeared to be the loose “peacebuild-
ing consensus” of the 1990s faces many challenges.1
This volume represents the latest stage of this ongoing project.
Boutros-Ghali’s groundbreaking policy statement, Agenda for Peace,
was followed by the lesser known “agenda” on democratization and
development,2 documents such as the Carnegie Report, the Bra-
himi Report, “The Responsibility to Protect,” the High Level Panel
Report, and expert panels on peace operations, conflict resolu-
tion, and peacebuilding.3 The dominant impulse, at least until the
war on terror diverted attention and resources, has been to draw
together the wide-ranging responses that have emerged across
institutions and disciplines to try to produce one universal blue-
print for peace, one that can now be called a liberal peace for the
post–Cold War world.4 I have described this elsewhere as the prod-
uct of a third generation of thinking about peace and conflict.5 This
represents a rational and secular post-Enlightenment project in
which democratization, development, the rule of law, and human
rights form the basis for building a postconflict state, guided by
external experts and conditions.6 The state is based on the liberal
norms of a mixture of legal regulation and freedoms, as well as on
self-determination and sovereignty. This liberal project has become
key to the production of international order, but it is also subject to
internal inconsistencies and criticisms, external resistance, and increasingly

obvious shortcomings.
Clearly, there are different interpretations of the liberal peacebuilding
project, from those of a conservative nature (focusing on security matters and
institutions) to those that incorporate many of the attributes of more emanci-
patory thinking (focusing on civil society and issues related to social justice).7
They all share assumptions about the state, sovereignty, territoriality, govern-
ance, democracy, self-determination, human rights, rule of law, and develop-
ment. The relative emphasis on these components depends on which version
of liberal peacebuilding is being pursued. As I argue elsewhere, mainstream
thinking on peacebuilding has generally come to agree on an “orthodox” form
of the liberal peace, which is somewhere between its conservative and emanci-
patory gradations.8
The model of the 1990s quickly proved to be inadequate, and even worse,
sometimes ethically inconsistent, particularly given the UN withdrawal from
Rwanda during the genocide, the failure to instill a liberal state through “peace
enforcement” in Somalia, and the failure to combat ethnic cleansing in Bos-
nia and Kosovo. The dominant peacebuilding actors (e.g., the UN system,
the international financial institutions, nongovernmental organizations, and
major donors) tried to escape this predicament by a combination of humani-
tarian intervention, prioritization of military security, efforts to create liberal
states, and, after the terrorists attacks of 2001, regime change (as the precursor
for liberal statebuilding). The goal of creating a liberal state meant that almost
any intervention, using almost any method—whether coercive, conditional, or
consensual—became automatically legitimate in the view of some prominent
U.S. and U.K. policy makers. This liberal and “positive” peace was all the justi-
fication that many policy makers required, even though it focused primarily on
installing often alien institutions on people, culture, and society.
As a result, in the Middle East, Cyprus, Sri Lanka, the Balkans, and many
other locations, peace processes began to undermine themselves by reinforc-
ing state-centric models and ultimately confirming ethnonationalism and ter-
ritoriality (despite a concerted move in the 1990s to go “beyond Westphalia”).9
As peacebuilding came to merge with statebuilding, local actors renewed their
competition for control of the new state. This appropriation of liberal agendas
for peacebuilding, without concern for the everyday needs of the population
and with too great a reliance on force and discourses of securitization,10 meant
that the liberal goal of emancipation and a just peace was often lost. Instead,
the focus returned to far more limited conflict management approaches.
The broad consensus on a liberal peace remains to a certain degree, though
it has had limited outcomes so far and many reverses. Its proponents claim that
their priorities of security and institutionalism represent realism and pragma-
tism. They are concerned that the peace agenda may already be overextended.
Its critics—including myself—argue that in practice such approaches repre-
sent limitations that weaken the very project of peacebuilding and its contem-
porary associated dogmas.11 Such tensions are clear in the strategic vision of
peacebuilding that this volume represents and begins to address in its quest for
CONCLUSION 355
a justpeace. It has ably outlined the liberal arguments for and about peacebuild-
ing but goes further and suggests a new stage in the development of peace-
building.
In this conclusion, I outline the range of peacebuilding issues discussed in
this volume. The overall thesis is that strategic peacebuilding is an alternative to the
(now fading) more securitized post-9/11 strategy. Through a reflexive engagement
with liberal peacebuilding, the challenge is to return to inclusive peace processes
and a more robust conception of sustainable peace. In the next section, I examine
how strategic peacebuilding challenges the liberal peace which has become the
predominant focus of peacebuilding. Finally, I offer some thoughts on how the
liberal peace might be improved on, drawing to a large degree on research I have
recently conducted on what I call “liberal peace transitions” in five cases.12
Overview of Issues
The critical and strategic agenda for peacebuilding that emerges in this volume
is developed in increasing detail as this book progresses. The volume begins
with a conceptual discussion, followed by a discussion of institutional forms of
peacebuilding from above and below. Lederach and Appleby develop a concept
of strategic peacebuilding to which the subsequent chapters refer. They attempt
to conceptualize a broad horizontal, vertical, and temporal dynamic that takes
into account the interrelationship between theory, policy, and practice; intro-
duces diversity into policy debates; and prepares the ground for an ethical and
strategic critique of actual peacebuilding. It moves beyond the more usual eval-
uation based on issues of efficiency and coordination.
In the following conceptual chapter, Peter Wallensteen optimistically points
out that the number of conflicts has significantly declined from the high of the
immediate post–Cold War environment. He attributes this decline in part to the
development of peacebuilding practices, institutions, and theory during this
period. Although states are obviously necessary for peacebuilding, he is critical of
the tendency to equate peacebuilding with statebuilding; engagement with a wider
set of issues and actors is also essential. For example, the reconciliation between
and within France and Germany after World War II was achieved by addressing
issues of human dignity and security for communities as they arose in everyday
political, social, economic, and cultural life. Incorporating a wide range of issues
increases the complexity of peacebuilding, which many policy makers (and some
academics) take to be implausible. But as Wallensteen argues, embracing the the-
oretical, methodological, ontological, and practical complexities of peacebuilding
helps peace be more self-sustaining. A more self-sustaining peace also entails
engaging with local peacebuilders and regional contexts while avoiding stifling
international engagement as well as market solutions that, at least in the difficult
and lengthy transitional period, might not meet urgent needs for jobs and activi-
ties that build a common future. Wallensteen offers valuable and wide-ranging
insight into peacebuilding and its evolution, representing and concurring with
much innovative research into an agenda for justpeace over the past few years.
Hal Culbertson raises the problem of learning and evaluation in the follow-
ing chapter. Especially since 1990, peacebuilding practices have tended to be
broader in scope and increasingly focused on efficiency and integration. Yet the
philosophy underlying liberal peacebuilding, which provides the parameters of
this broadening, has not been subject to much reflection. As Culbertson points
out, this is partly because this would involve questioning the universal applica-
bility of the blueprint itself. An evaluation process that reflects diverse contexts
and addresses failures is necessary if peacebuilding is to develop legitimacy
internationally and at the local level. In my view, peacebuilding practice has been
a singular failure in developing legitimacy, mainly because it has become so
indebted and subservient to a liberal, Western, and developed-world paradigm
of peace that is more a technology of governance than a response to local reali-
ties.13 Culbertson’s emphasis on developing reflective capacities at the micro
level of peacebuilding projects is vital if they are to contribute to a justpeace that
has both emancipatory qualities and everyday relevance.
Philpott’s chapter on an ethics for political reconciliation opens up an area
that rarely appears in policy and academic literature, which has focused on
developing a managerial approach to peacebuilding in the context of the Webe-
rian state.14 Disciplinary, cold, and lacking in empathy, such literature often
focuses on the international dimensions of a state-centric peace, which gives
primacy to security rather than reconciliation at all levels. Philpott shows how
this approach overlooks colossal injustice and suffering.
Unfortunately, many actors have already evolved standard operating pro-
cedures that have avoided reconciliation—not consciously, perhaps, but as a
result of far too much faith in the liberal state and a far too parsimonious
an approach to researching and constructing reconciliation as the basis for
peace. The key elements of political reconciliation—acknowledgment, repa-
rations, accountability, forgiveness, apology, and just political and economic
institutions—provide a more comprehensive approach to the ethics of peace-
building. Nonsecular, non-Western models of state and authority and cultural
and religious practices are very difficult to build into a liberal state model
and therefore generate an internal tension within the current peacebuilding
paradigm.
Philpott argues that religious and cultural traditions are crucial to recon-
ciliation, taking it far beyond the liberal project into a terrain more likely to
connect populations and leaders and to develop a sustainable ethics of peace.
The question then becomes how to actualize these practices to create a locally
acceptable social contract. Philpott rightly notes that this requires a much more
thorough engagement with questions of social justice. If as much effort had
been put into this area as has been devoted to governance, institutions, and
security over the past twenty years, the track record of the peacebuilding project
might have been far better. Perhaps it might not have reached the heights of
reconciliation and reconstruction in Europe after World War II, but the basis
for such an achievement might now be present.
Some of these issues are also raised in Simon Chesterman’s chapter on
the role of international institutions in peacebuilding. He asks the provocative
CONCLUSION 357
and important question: whose strategy, whose peace? This gets at why recon-
ciliation, for example, is generally a low priority in the liberal agenda. In my
view, much of what has developed so far has attempted rather unreflectively to
transfer to conflict zones a “one-size-fits-all” package, based in a Western ideol-
ogy and experience that leaves little room for local adjustment. The priority is
peace between states rather than pursuing more ambitious forms of conflict
resolution and transformation within and between societies.
Chesterman shows how this tendency has led to approaches to transitional
administration that aim to replace divided or collapsed states with more sta-
ble forms of statehood, mainly determined by external agendas and ideologies
rather than an equitable and transparent processes of negotiation between
locals and internationals. International practitioners determine the language of
issues raised in such conversations through their own expectations, processes,
and institutional frameworks, creating local peacebuilding industries that are
mimicked but not necessarily internalized. Chesterman provides an excellent
account of the need for a far better understanding of local political dynam-
ics and their sustainability and legitimacy. He argues for channeling political
resources through institutions rather than individuals, through civilians rather
than the military, and through democratic processes. Great care is needed on
the part of internationals to avoid any semblance of a colonial relationship with
local actors. If he is correct in saying “states cannot be made from the outside,”
a radical revision is required of the peacebuilding project. I would go a step fur-
ther and encourage an examination of polities other than states and the sorts
of capacities they require to rebuild a local social contract in a regional context.
Many of the problems that Chesterman points to represent a failure of current
models of peacebuilding to build social contracts between states, international
peacebuilders, politicians, and local communities. Local communities are the
most ignored, yet most crucial constituencies of peacebuilding.
The preceding chapters have grappled with the normative aspects of peace-
building. In particular, they reach for a shared ethics that is plausible at both
the local and international level. Nicholas Sambanis reverts to a more classi-
cal methodology but shares many of the same concerns in engaging with a
notion of sustainable peace. He offers a “peacebuilding triangle,” developed
with Michael Doyle, that shows the relationship among the depth of the con-
flict, remaining local capacity, and the requirements for international assist-
ance. He asks a fascinating question: what is the standard of peace required?
He answers: a “participatory peace.” A participatory peace focuses on local
engagement and the social contract, and the capacity to survive after inter-
national actors have left. He offers a complex and convincing explanation for
failed peace agreements as well as prescriptions for greater success, include
more attention to local capacity building, greater UN engagement, more for-
eign assistance, and more multidimensional hybrid engagements. In addition,
he argues that democracy needs to be rooted not just within a nation-state but
also in a broader regional context.
This argument about increased participation and hybridity runs into diffi-
culty with his assertion that integrated missions might have to rely on stronger
security interventions and delays in political liberalization. Peace operations

might reduce local government capacity, especially in terms of political econ-
omy, in the short term, with the longer term goal of a more participatory peace.
As Iraq and Afghanistan have unequivocally shown, however, this approach
will anger the participants in a peace process in the short term and make it less
likely that they will participate in good faith or that a justpeace will be achieved.
Indeed, it runs the risk of undermining the legitimacy of peacebuilding because
it involves internationals supplanting local input into statebuilding. At least in
the short term, they lose the two elements of a justpeace—self-determination
and self-government. Perhaps if Iraq and Afghanistan had been run under the
auspices of the UN, such a bargain could have been made and accepted by locals
as legitimate. But even then, history shows this is unlikely. Even “participation”
is often not seen as enough for local actors, elites and grassroots alike, who have
often invested blood and resources in a struggle for self-governance. Before any
international intervention that might legitimately defer local governance and
place it in the hands of international actors, there must be a consensus that has
both broad international and local legitimacy.
The following chapter adds a further dimension to the discussion of strate-
gic peacebuilding in that it seeks to find a balance between excluding and sanc-
tioning terrorists and developing a viable peace process based on democracy,
the rule of law, and human rights. Given that the era of the war on terror has
generally been a substitute for the promising peace processes of the 1990s, this
is a difficult balance to find. Clearly, as George Lopez and David Cortright show,
such strategies have to be considered where parties to a peace process cannot be
persuaded to renounce actual or structural violence. They argue that this balance
is more achievable with a targeted approach to sanctions, as has emerged within
the UN system since the mid-1990s. Targeted sanctions can be a substitute for
military intervention, particularly in the context of arms embargoes.
Sanctions must be used with caution. They should not be indiscriminate,
nor should they be expanded without great care for they may further radicalize
extremists or predatory elites (state and nonstate). Moreover, they can place the
peacebuilding process at risk by excluding the most difficult actors (or spoil-
ers). In cases such as Northern Ireland in the 1990s, these are the very actors
with whom it is most important to open lines of communication. Yet those tar-
geted are often engaged in behavior that is generally considered to undermine
peace. Given this paradox, sanctions are a strategy to be applied with great sen-
sitivity. Indeed, as recent UN actions have shown,15 it is important to maintain
a sharp separation between counterterrorism strategies and peacebuilding.
In many peace processes where this has not occurred, such as in the Middle
East, Kashmir, and Sri Lanka, state counterterrorism strategies have obstructed
the peace processes at various phases. It has proven very difficult to persuade
the UN that this is not the case (see, for example, the quiet marginalization
of the Counter-Terrorism Committee in the UN system). As the authors point
out, however, involving the UN adds more nuance to such strategies while
avoiding what Mark Duffield would call the securitization of peacebuilding and
development through the adoption of a “hard” security agenda.16
CONCLUSION 359
Robert Johansen examines the contribution of international judicial proc-

esses in his chapter, which aims at overturning the widely held assumption that
peace and justice are mutually exclusive. Clearly, importing external standards
of justice into conflict zones can have an impact on accommodations reached
between disputants. This is often most noticeable in investigating human rights
abuses and atrocities committed during a conflict. As Johansen points out, since
the International Criminal Court has made it plausible that political leaders will
later be held responsible for war crimes, a compromise peace agreement might
not be in their interest. To deal with this dilemma, he proposes a “rule-utilitarian
ethic” aimed at achieving the lowest possible loss of life in both the short and
long run. In this ethics, legal justice is one element in a wider peacebuilding
framework, not the dominant element. Peacebuilding and justice do not require
an either/or choice but share common goals of strengthening human rights and
the rule of law as part of a justpeace ethic. Peacebuilding should take into account
the political and normative utilities of justice, which requires an account of politi-
cal interests in their local context as well as in the context of international norms.
Where there is a tension between processes of justice and an overall goal of peace,
Johansen argues that “truth telling” should be encouraged as a foundation for a
broad reconciliation process that does not favor certain groups (especially those
implicated in violence or crime) and does not allow justice to be a cover for venge-
ance. Thus, peace and justice are always integral to each other. Separating them
probably will lead to a “virtual peace” that likely favors those who had defied inter-
national and local norms or are intent on usurping control of state structures.
Peacebuilding must show how the rule of law operates fairly to provide justice
for perpetrators and victims; it must strengthen the rule of law in ways that are
relevant and legitimate both at the international and local levels.
Such sentiments are mirrored in the following chapter, which examines
the place of human rights in peacebuilding. Naomi Roht-Arriaza argues for an
ecological model of peacebuilding driven by human rights and humanitarian
law frameworks operative at the local, national, and global levels. Justice mech-
anisms rooted in local communities are especially vital. But as Roht-Arriaza
illustrates, there are problems with the assumption that the local milieu, often
one of the drivers of conflict, is the source of unambiguous conflict resolution.
Yet coopting and formalizing justice in a local context using Western standards
also runs the risk of alienating the very communities who need and want to be
part of a new, democratic, and pluralistic polity. Narrow versions of justice that
are disconnected from broader social and political issues need to be avoided.
Larissa Fast’s chapter on humanitarian operations looks at whether
humanitarian action by outsiders might be integrated into strategic peacebuild-
ing. She argues that the need to maintain a moral response to human suffering
must take priority over integrated approaches to peacebuilding. This means,
quite rightly, that humanitarian assistance is more important than the politi-
cal or institutional aspects of peacebuilding. Humanitarian assistance does not
build peace or deal with the roots of conflict but instead focuses on specific and
isolated issues, beginning with avoiding harm. An integrated approach com-
promises the capacity of humanitarian agencies to operate because it requires
them to become involved in the structures of political conditionality. A separate

space is required. Although humanitarian assistance is vital to the project of
peacebuilding, it must be able to focus on need alone, even where rights are
still problematic. This neutral, needs-based goal is important, even if lack of
neutrality and bias are inevitable given an intervener’s expectations, culture,
biases, and, in many cases, lack of local knowledge.
Jackie Smith’s fascinating chapter focuses on the problems raised by the
often unthinking adoption of neoliberal economic strategies, which have had
serious unintended consequences across a whole range of cases. I would go
further than Smith and argue that such impulses are now built into the insti-
tutional structures of liberal peacebuilding because they rest on an inherent
perception that peacebuilders possess expert knowledge and locals do not.
An automatic devaluing and distancing from the local context results.17 This
propagates a hierarchy that neoliberalism and liberal institutionalism confirms
in economic, political, and sometimes even class terms.18 Smith shows how
peacebuilding, like the conflict it treats, is globally embedded and reproduces
the power relationships and inequality of global political and economic sys-
tems. This is a crucial insight, which gets to the heart of why liberal peace-
building has not reproduced a liberal and local social contract and instead has
often led to predatory states and benefited their elites. Much of this stems from
the marketization strategies that ignore social welfare and force postconflict
developing economies to compete in a wider milieu that consigns people to
poverty in the crucial peacebuilding transition. It is exacerbated by an unwill-
ingness of internationals to engage with local culture, customs, institutions,
and processes. As a result the “postconflict individual” who aspires to be an
active citizen generally finds that the state she has worked so hard for fails to
provide her with basic resources, recognition, or a stake in the development
of peace. Peacebuilding, then, should not reflect existing inequalities and pro-
mote an elitist class system, protected by emerging security forces whose ener-
gies would better be devoted to protecting ordinary citizens.
Peacebuilding needs to be delinked from globalization, Smith argues.
Postconflict situations should be treated as special transitional cases, as with
Europe after World War II.19 This requires a global (not just local) democracy.
Smith’s chapter might be accused of idealism by some in more realist, positiv-
ist, liberal institutionalist, or neoliberal quarters. But the practice of the past
twenty years illustrates clearly that what she offers is actually a necessary and
pragmatic strategy for promoting democratic states and polities founded on a
social contract that benefits the most needy and vulnerable.
The following chapter turns to a discussion of civic friendship and how
to overcome hatred through forgiveness, particularly in the context of con-
temporary Belfast. This fascinating chapter shows the possibilities inherent in
the creative humanistic turn opened up by the critique of security and insti-
tutionally oriented peacebuilding. Robert Enright, Jeanette Knutson Enright,
and Anthony Holter argue that any strategic notion of peacebuilding must
develop civic friendship through forgiveness. Indeed, in places like Bosnia and
East Timor, they argue, new conflict dynamics have emerged as unintended
CONCLUSION 361
consequences of liberal peacebuilding. Perhaps indicative of the liberal bias of

Western academics and policy makers, the authors acknowledge that theirs is
a long-term strategy, almost as if this was a failing! Of course, long-term strate-
gies need no apology. Any strategic version of peacebuilding must always have
an eye on the long term—on generations and life spans. Otherwise, it runs the
risk of being self-defeating. Witness East Timor, where the failure to address
long-term problems of social welfare, custom, and new identity conflicts led to
the near collapse of the peace after it had earlier been widely lauded as a major
success by the UN, World Bank, and others. The authors show how educa-
tional institutions can contribute to peacebuilding if they are able to transcend
societal divisions. Education addresses the roots of conflict and how they are
transmitted across generations. The educational system is often both a part of
this transmission and an obvious site in which to prevent it. Yet institutional
peacebuilders normally ignore it because of their mistaken belief that peace starts
mainly in political, economic, or security—not social or cultural—institutions. A
sustainable justpeace requires a forgiveness that is rooted in society, culture, and
attitudes, as well as institutions.
Gerard Powers contends that religion, a critical element of culture and
sometimes a political force as well, has generally been overlooked in conflict
and peacebuilding situations, even though it is increasingly recognized as cen-
tral to the modern world. He shows how the “prevailing secularist paradigm”
has led many policy makers and academics to underestimate the impact of
religion, especially its positive role in peacebuilding. He describes the essential
public nature of religious peacebuilding and the potential and limits of ecu-
menical and inter-religious peacebuilding. A strategic approach to peacebuild-
ing that takes religion seriously has major implications not just for U.S. foreign
policy but also for other peacebuilding actors who share the prevailing secular
approach to peacebuilding.
Implications for the Evolution of Peacebuilding
The liberal paradigm of peacebuilding has offered significant advantages, as

Doyle, Sambanis, Paris, and many others have documented.20 It has repre-
sented a step forward compared to earlier conflict management approaches
and incorporates many of the goals of earlier versions of conflict resolution
and peacebuilding.21 This volume has shown that there is now a need to con-
solidate the wisdom of liberal peacebuilding and move beyond this dominant
paradigm to approach the goal of sustainable and locally owned forms of peace
now endorsed by the UN system and other actors. There is a growing consen-
sus on the failure so far of liberal peacebuilding to achieve this goal.22
Some contributors to this volume suggest that this framework can be sal-
vaged and improved. Others suggest that more radical thought is required to go
beyond this paradigm of peacebuilding.23 This difference in approach reflects
the fact that even postliberal peacebuilding faces intellectual tensions similar
to those faced by liberal peacebuilding. Such tensions are inevitable. So much
has been invested in the liberal project—the culmination of at least 100 years of
developing liberal institutions and the social contract within states and several
hundred years of liberal philosophy—that it would be very difficult to move
into a radically new agenda that was not, in some way, indebted to the liberal
project. What is distinctive about this volume is that it approaches these ten-
sions through a much broader pluralism of method, ontology, and practice than
ever proposed before in the quest for a self-sustaining, locally rooted justpeace .
Another dimension of this volume’s contribution to the “multiplicity of
peacebuilding” is worth noting—the need for peacebuilding to respond theo-
retically and reflexively to its own failings. Such a response means modifying
and simultaneously reinventing peacebuilding through the many institutions
that have grown up around it. Only through this wider methodological, onto-
logical, and epistemological reflection might a justpeace—that is, a postliberal,
emancipatory, empathetic, or caring peace24—be achieved.
Several other key issues emerge in the context of the necessarily broad yet
strategic discussion included in this volume. The first relates to the discussion
that began before 9/11, but was then interrupted, on the shift from notions
of absolute sovereignty toward a post-Westphalian approach to politics. Peace-
building has generally adopted the state as its vehicle, but in many conflicts—
Bosnia, for instance—the state is the source or root of contention. Many of the
authors in this volume consider the state as a key to successful peacebuilding,
but they must ask what type of state is envisaged by all stakeholders, with an
emphasis on the views of the least powerful. It should not be assumed that the
state represents a preexisting package of tried and tested values, norms, institu-
tions, and processes, simply to be transferred through peacebuilding.
As Lederach and Appleby suggest, peacebuilding should focus on the crea-
tion and nurturing of multilevel and constructive human relationships, rather
than merely instrumental and technical responses to conflict. A strategic peace-
building approach offers an engagement with the shifting and complex, geo-
political, economic, and cultural realities via a range of agencies, actors, and
institutions, formal and informal, across an interdisciplinary and interdepend-
ent spectrum of knowledge and issues—all aimed directly at dealing with root
causes of conflict. This calls for a fourth generation of conflict resolution or
transformation activities, not a return to conflict management.25 Ultimately,
it engages reflexively with the most as well as the least marginalized people
in postviolence situations. This requires a normative position and an engage-
ment with difference rather than a reliance on universal blueprints. Strategic
peacebuilding offers the opportunity to connect the localized conditions and
contexts of specific conflicts with the international and institutional designs of
peace that are still being developed.
Beyond the Liberal Peacebuilding Agenda?
Given the relatively uneven record of the embryonic efforts in peacebuilding

over the past two decades, I argue that a maximalist case for peacebuilding,
CONCLUSION 363
rather than a reductionist and parsimonious version, is the most “strategic”

option currently available. A plausible and pragmatic paradigm for peacebuild-
ing promotes a “culture” of peacebuilding across the life cycle of a conflict,
rather than lazily equating it with the construction of liberal or neoliberal states.
Peacebuilding begins and ends with the local, Lederach and Appleby argue, but
within an international context. Here I might add that the “local” should be as
local as it possibly can be and not merely representative of local elites.
As I elaborate elsewhere, what emerges from this discussion is not just
a better concept of liberal peace, but a postliberal peace in which the liberal
and the local combine to form a liberal-local hybrid.26 This implies a far better
understanding of the dynamics of the relationship between the liberal and the
local and of the interface between the two in everyday life. This liberal–local
interface, and the nature of peace it suggests, requires extensive and ongoing
contextual consultation and research to develop these ideas so that they are
ready to be negotiated, accepted, rejected, and constructed when and where that
becomes necessary. For example, when internationals engage in conflict zones,
they might ask of disputants at all levels what type of peace could be envisaged,
what type of reconciliation might be achieved, and what is needed to under-
stand, engage, and support everyday life. Security, institution-building, democ-
ratization, the rule of law, human rights, marketization, and development might
be constructed from these informed perspectives. This inclusive conversation
between local disputants and internationals could uncover a consensual ethic of
discourse and praxis by which a postliberal peace might be achieved.
The need for this international–local conversation was evident when I vis-
ited Bosnia Herzegovina in March 2008. The Office of the High Representative
(OHR), the linchpin of the post–Dayton era peace, was demoralized and in tur-
moil. Its representatives felt that they had lost their leverage over local politics
(with the peacekeeping troops long gone, and the bluff called on their “Bonn
powers” by local politicians). After years of working to ensure that Bosnia
stayed peaceful and “became liberal,” they could no longer exert coercive influ-
ence. A representative of the OHR argued that it probably was time the office
closed and passed the baton to the European Union. The EU argued that it was
up to local politicians and constituencies to make the reforms necessary to join
the EU and that the EU could not relax its rules to allow the country to move
more quickly toward accession, even if this would make the local peace more
sustainable. The Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe and the
United Nations Development Programme representatives in turn argued that
the EU might have to relax its entry rules, given that this was the only hope for
a sustainable peace once the OHR closed. The latter in turn acknowledged that
closing the OHR was risky: war had been mentioned in the media for the first
time since Dayton, and everyone’s eyes were on what the Republika Sprska’s
position would be in the light of Kosovo’s Unilateral Declaration of Independ-
ence.27 The OHR has created an either/or situation: either wield power to build
peace or leave and risk conflict. This is not the only option, however. It can
develop other strategies to ensure peace in Bosnia and remain committed to
peacebuilding in a strategic sense, rather than remain imprisoned within its
mandates, which clearly no longer reflect the realities in Bosnia. One might
argue that passing responsibility to the EU would partly reflect the current
situation, but despite more than a decade of involvement by these institutions,
peace has become neither self-sustaining nor locally owned.
Consistent with Lederach and Appleby’s approach to peacebuilding, elicit-
ing local cultural and social resources for constructing peace would be far more
strategic and pragmatic. Indeed, local actors in Bosnia’s peacebuilding sector
have long recognized this.28 International commentators have also recognized
the risks of an organization like OHR, which may undermine local capacity
to promote democracy and human rights while simultaneously seeking to
improve it.29 An elicitive approach offers a pathway out of the unintended con-
sequences of such dogmatic liberal prescriptions.
It is interesting to note that in two other peacebuilding contexts in which I
conducted fieldwork in late 2008, I found that such sophistications had recently
been adopted by international peacebuilders, including formerly resistant insti-
tutions like the World Bank. After the collapse of the peace in Timor-Leste in
2006, there is now an ongoing and elicitive attempt to redevelop a liberal state
that incorporates local customs as well as an embryonic welfare system to pro-
vide disincentives for violent behavior. In the Solomon Islands, a mixed inter-
national and local team is working on major constitutional reforms that would
produce a hybrid-liberal and custom-based constitution. In both cases, there
has been a clear recognition that the liberal state and liberal peacebuilding alone
cannot provide a framework for peace.30 Thus the liberal-local hybrid is already
emerging. So far, such work is in its infancy, but it does appear to represent a
logical response to the weaknesses of previous approaches to peacebuilding.
Peacebuilding, like ethics, is an “ongoing historical practice”31 that needs
to be incorporated into any renewed “agenda for peace.” As with the search for
a sustainable peace in Bosnia, Timor-Leste, or the Solomon Islands, this is a
reason not to announce the failure of peacebuilding after so much effort but to
try even harder for its renewal and success. Success should now be defined as
a locally sustainable justpeace32 and not merely a grand narrative of geopolitical
practices, institutions, or markets that mainly benefit local and international
political, economic, and peacebuilding elites.
Weberian states are primarily concerned with security through power and
territorial governance; liberal states are primarily concerned with the “good
life” through checks and balances in particular territories; and neoliberal states
focus, in addition, on the role of the free market in distributing scarce resources.
Strategic peacebuilding broadens the processes and the goals of peacebuild-
ing beyond the liberal paradigm, meaning that the attainment of a justpeace
requires more than merely a state apparatus for security or a market apparatus
to redistribute resources. It requires greater levels of democracy to engage with
the machinery of checks and balances, and it also requires communication and
mediation with and between international liberal prescriptions and the often
nonliberal local context.
A strategic version of peacebuilding may well, on the surface, be taken
to offer retrogressive hints of methodological reductionism, one in which the
CONCLUSION 365
Weberian, liberal, or neoliberal state remains the basis of the imagined polity.
Linking the term strategic to a reformed version of peacebuilding carries its
own baggage. Strategic implies “hard” security. Although security is a precondi-
tion for any polity or state recovering from conflict, it is only one of several. The
choice of the phrase “strategic peacebuilding” is in itself strategic. It engages
with a language that policy makers and officials comprehend and deploy them-
selves but brings to it a far wider range of issues and connections. In effect,
strategic peacebuilding tries to develop wide-ranging responses to the prob-
lems raised by using the Weberian, liberal, and neoliberal state as a toolkit for
conflict resolution, and so it offers a window into a postliberal peace that may
be more locally and contextually sensitive. Ultimately, strategic peacebuilding
as developed in this volume illustrates the pragmatism of localized, sensitized,
multidimensional, and multilevel peacebuilding that moves far beyond what
has so far proven to be a rather self-defeating approach based more narrowly
on security and institutions.
Conclusion
The evolution, reform, and refinements of peacebuilding discussed in this chap-

ter retain the normal tools of peacebuilding—democratization, human rights
and the rule of law, marketization and development, secularity, and a balance
of powers. In addition, it advocates a localized, culturally and socially just, rep-
resentative, and participatory political system, a process of politics that respects
local culture, provides for social welfare, and is open to religious influences.
Underlying all the contributions to this volume is the assumption that an inte-
grated, multidimensional approach is required to produce a rapid peace divi-
dend, one that will persuade disputants that peace is better for them than war.
An integrated approach would be in my view much more strategic (and effective)
than previous approaches because it does not privilege parsimonious versions of
security—that is, state or elite security, as opposed to human security33—before
and above all else. Nor does it, by implication at least, privilege one-size-fits-all
liberal peace packages, imported and controlled mainly from afar, over the needs
or rights of locals or customary and indigenous processes. Nor would it rest on
restrictive time lines or budgets tailored solely to the requirements of donors. A
justpeace requires a negotiation between these levels and issues of peacebuilding
and an outcome that is both locally “authentic” and consistent with the most
rigorous international norms pertaining to needs, rights, and institutions.
This volume provides a survey of the state of the art of peacebuilding, and
contained within many of the chapters are strong indications of a far more
reflexive approach involving alternatives to the liberal peace and a media that
allows scholars and policy makers to escape the “rigor” of their own reduction-
ist technology of governance. A positive justpeace requires an engagement with
as broad, representative, and participatory a representation of everyday life in
postconflict zones as possible if it is to be empathetic, emancipatory, elicitive of
recognition and care, and hence sustainable.
Any attempt to develop a strategic paradigm of peacebuilding must remem-

ber that its roots lie in the lives and the consent of real people and societies who
have the capacity to make choices within their own context and aspire to such
agency. To maintain its integrity, any approach to peacebuilding on their behalf
must be able to offer a form of peace that is rhetorically defensible across the
range of platforms with which this book has shown that strategic peacebuilding
engages. Far from pursuing a utopian agenda, this volume offers a realistic and
pragmatic terrain into which peacebuilding must move as it begins to respond
to the problems that have emerged with the liberal peace paradigm of the post–
Cold War world. A justpeace is the challenge for the next phase or generation of
peacebuilding.
NOTES
1. See Oliver P. Richmond, “UN Peace Operations and the Dilemmas of the
Peacebuilding Consensus,” in International Peacekeeping, vol. 10, no. 4, 2004.
2. Boutros Boutros-Ghali, An Agenda for Peace: Preventative Diplomacy,
Peacemaking and Peacekeeping, New York: United Nations, 1992; Boutros Boutros-
Ghali, “An Agenda for Development: Report of the Secretary-General,” A/48/935,
May 6, 1994; Boutros Boutros-Ghali, “Supplement to an Agenda for Peace” A/50/60,
S.1995/1, January 3, 1995; Boutros Boutros-Ghali, “An Agenda for Democratization,”
A/50/332 AND A/51/512, December 17, 1996.
3. In particular, see Report of the Secretary-General’s High Level Panel on
Threats, Challenges, and Change, United Nations, 2004; International Commission
on Intervention and State Sovereignty, “The Responsibility to Protect,” Ottawa:
International Development Research Centre, 2001.
4. See my Transformation of Peace, London: Palgrave, 2005/2007, esp. conclusion.
See also Kofi Annan, “Democracy as an International Issue,” Global Governance, vol. 8,
no. 2, April–June 2002, pp. 134–142; A. Bellamy and P. Williams, “Peace Operations
and Global Order,” International Peacekeeping, vol. 10, no. 4, 2004; D. Chandler, From
Kosovo to Kabul: Human Rights and International Intervention, London: Pluto, 2002;
J. Chopra, and Tanja Hohe, “Participatory Intervention,” Global Governance, vol. 10,
2004; Mark Duffield, Global Governance and the New Wars, London: Zed Books, 2001;
Roland Paris, At War’s End, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004; M. Pugh,
“Peacekeeping and Critical Theory,” Conference Presentation at BISA, LSE, London,
December 16–18, 2002.
5. Oliver P. Richmond, Maintaining Order, Making Peace, London: Palgrave, 2002,
chapter 5.
6. Paris’s book, At War’s End, is perhaps the apogee of this development, in that
his “institutionalization before liberalization” concept depends on a coercive external
importation of the “privileged” processes of peacebuilding.
7. See my argument in Transformation of Peace, p. 216.
8. Ibid., p. 219.
9. Gene M. Lyons and Michael Mastunduno, Beyond Westphalia, Baltimore, Md.:
Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995.
10. Barry Buzan, O. Waever, and J. de Wilde, Security: A New Framework for
Analysis, Boulder, Colo.: Lynne Rienner, 1998.
11. For supporters and critics of the liberal peace, see, among others, Michael
Doyle, “Kant, Liberal Legacies, and Foreign Affairs,” Philosophy and Public Affairs,
CONCLUSION 367
vol. 12, 1983; Michael Doyle and Nicolas Sambanis, Making War and Building Peace,
Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2006; Charles T. Call and Elizabeth
M. Cousens, “Ending Wars and Building Peace: International Responses to War-
Torn Societies,” International Studies Perspectives, vol. 9, 2008; Stephen D. Krasner,
“Sharing Sovereignty. New Institutions for Collapsed and Failing States,” International
Security, vol. 29, no. 2, 2004; Paris, At War’s End; J. Snyder, From Voting to Violence,
London: Norton, 2000; David Rieff, A Bed for the Night, London: Vintage, 2002;
Michael Mandelbaum, The Ideas that Conquered the World, New York: Public Affairs,
2002; Michael Pugh, “The Political Economy of Peacebuilding: A Critical Theory
Perspective,” International Journal of Peace Studies, vol. 10, no. 2, 2005; David
Chandler, Bosnia: Faking Democracy after Dayton, London: Pluto Press, 1999; Duffield,
Global Governance and the New Wars; Roland Paris, “International Peacebuilding and
the ‘Mission Civilisatrice,’” Review of International Studies, vol. 28, no. 4, 2002; Roger
Mac Guinty, “Indigenous Peace-Making versus the Liberal Peace,” Cooperation and
Conflict, vol. 43, no. 2, 2008: 139–65; Beate Jahn, “The Tragedy of Liberal Diplomacy:
Democratization, Intervention and Statebuilding (Part II),” Journal of Intervention and
Statebuilding, vol. 1, no. 2, 2007; Neil Cooper, “Review Article: On the Crisis of the
Liberal Peace,” Conflict, Security and Development, vol. 7, no. 4, 2007.
12. Oliver P. Richmond and Jason Franks, Liberal Peace Transitions: Between
Peacebuilding and Statebuilding, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2009.
13. Michel Foucault, “Governmentality,” in The Foucault Effect: Studies in
Governmentality, edited by Graham Burchell, Colin Gordon, and Peter Miller. Chicago:
Chicago University Press, 1997, pp. 87–104.
14. Ibid.
15. Recent meetings at the UN in New York at which I was present indicated
that there is significant internal tension in the UN system between peacebuilding and
development projects and the Counter-Terrorism Committee.
16. Mark Duffield, Development, Security and Unending War, Cambridge: Polity
Press, 2007.
17. Oliver P. Richmond, “The Romanticisation of the Local: Welfare, Culture and
Peacebuilding,” International Spectator, vol. 44, no. 1, 2009: 149–69.
18. David Harvey, Neoliberalism, New York: Oxford University Press, 2005.
19. Karl Polyani, The Great Transformation, New York: Rinehart, 1944.
20. Paris, At War’s End; Doyle and Sambanis, Making War and Building Peace.
21. It is generally taken that conflict management represents limited attempts to
focus mainly on security matters, whereas conflict resolution deals with underlying
and social causes. See for example, John Burton, World Society, Cambridge: Cambridge
22. For my own empirical and theoretical discussion of the achievements of the
liberal peace, see my Liberal Peace Transitions (with Jason Franks). See, among many
others, Chandler, From Kosovo to Kabul; Mac Guinty, “Indigenous Peace-Making versus
the Liberal Peace,” pp. 139–163; M. Pugh and N. Cooper, with J. Goodhand, War
Economies in a Regional Context: Challenges of Transformation, Boulder, Colo.: Lynne
Rienner, 2004; Michael Pugh, Neil Cooper, and Mandy Turner (eds.), Whose Peace?
Critical Perspectives on the Political Economy of Peacebuilding, London: Palgrave, 2008;
Snyder, From Voting to Violence, p. 43; Annan, “Democracy as an International Issue,”
p. 136; Chopra and Hohe, “Participatory Intervention,” p. 292; Rieff, A Bed for the
Night, p. 10; Paris, “International Peacebuilding and the ‘Mission Civilisatrice,’” p. 638.
23. See among others Christine Sylvester, “Bare Life as Development/Post-
Colonial Problematic,” Geographical Journal, vol. 172, no. 1, 2006, p. 67.
24. See Oliver P. Richmond, Peace in IR, London: Routledge, 2008.

25. See Richmond, Maintaining Order, Making Peace, esp. conclusion.
26. Oliver P. Richmond, “Eirenism and a Post-Liberal Peace,” forthcoming in
Review of International Studies, 2009. The term liberal is used here in its philosophical
sense.
27. Fieldwork and personal interviews in Bosnia Herzogovina, March 10–16,
2008; Timor-Leste, November 2008; Solomon Islands, December 2008.
28. See Liberal Peace Transitions, chapter 2. See also the discussion at a project
workshop in Sarajevo in March 2007, where local discussants were extremely critical
of liberal peacebuilding in Bosnia.
29. Chandler, Bosnia: Faking Democracy after Dayton.
30. Volker Boege, M. Anne Brown, Kevin P. Clements, and Anna Nolan, “States
Emerging from Hybrid Political Orders—Pacific Experiences,” The Australian Centre
for Peace and Conflict Studies Occasional Papers Series, no. 11, September 2008.
31. R. B. J. Walker, Inside/Outside: International Relations as Political Theory,
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992, p. ix.
32. See Oliver P. Richmond, “Reclaiming Peace in International Relations,”
Millennium: Journal of International Studies, 2008; “A Post-Liberal, Everyday Ethic of
Peace?” Article for PRIO project on the Ethics of the Liberal Peace, 2009.
33. Shahrbanou Tadjbakhsh and Anuradha Chenoy, Human Security: Concepts and
Implications, London: Routledge, 2006.
Index
Abkhazia (Georgia), 47 agape, 303–304, 307, 311

abortion, 302 Agenda for Democratization, An, 6
Abrams, Jason S., 202 Agenda for Peace, 5–6, 8, 119, 141, 143,
abused women, 302 353
accountability age of peacebuilding, 3
in absence of prosecution, 213 Ahtisaari, Martti, 123
over compromise, 211 Akhaven, Payam, 197
and due process, 103 Albright, Madeleine, 317, 318, 326, 345
in evaluations, 66–68, 70, 81 Alien Tort Claims Act (U.S.), 237
and human rights, 202, 208, al Qaeda, 130, 169, 176, 177, 184, 318
223n.59 Ambivalence of the Sacred, The
over impunity, 216, 219, 226n.121 (Appleby), 318, 349n.24
impact on rule of law, 227n.129, American Convention on Human
227n.136 Rights, 237
in judicial proceedings, 219 amnesty, 110, 200–201, 207–208, 212,
as preventative, 202 216, 219, 225n.102, 227n.121, 233, 237
Acholi people, 241, 332, 342 anger, 292, 294–95, 297–99
advocacy, 274, 278, 335 Angola, 7, 172, 174, 175
affective theories, 342 Annan, Kofi, 6, 126, 134, 181, 207, 275
Afghanistan apartheid, 105, 106, 113
aid to, 56, 126, 282 apology, 110–11, 113
amnesty in, 207 Appiah, Kwame Anthony, 136
investigative panel for, 174 Appleby, Scott, 66, 165n.7, 170, 190,
light footprint approach in, 124, 128 215, 271–72, 318–19, 322–23, 325,
and participatory peace, 358 328, 331, 336, 340, 349n.24, 355,
rebuilding of, 125, 127 362–63
return to war, 57 Aquinas, Thomas, 98, 312
strategic failure in, 130 Argentina, 110, 235, 236
as target for sanctions, 172, 177 Aristotle, 97, 292, 295–97, 301,
U.S. action in, 176 303–304, 309–12
Africa, 54, 58–59, 124, 251, 327 arms embargo, 172–73, 174
370 INDEX
atheist state, 334 capitalism, 260, 261

atonement, 100 cardiac patients, 302
atrocities, 196–99, 220n.4, 359 Caritas Internationalis, 43n.11
attribution, 39 Catholic Church
Aylwin, Patricio, 111 in Colombia, 21, 33, 37, 336
in Croatia, 331
Al Bagir, Faisal, 217 in El Salvador, 79
Baker, James, 139n.17 in former Yugoslavia, 325–26
Balkan region, 319, 329, 354 in Guatemala, 107
Bamidele, Joseph, 54 in Mozambique, 19–20, 29–30, 324
Barnett, Michael, 155 in Northern Ireland, 293, 321, 330, 331,
Barrios Altos case, 237 337, 342, 344
al-Bashir, Omar, 273 and peacebuilding, 322–23
Basques, 47 in Philippines, 328, 341
Bassiouni, M. Cherif, 201 in Poland, 334
Beck, Aaron, 302 role of, 325
Belfast (Northern Ireland), 292, 294–95, in Rwanda, 330, 350n.41
303, 305–308 sacrament of reconciliation, 340
Benedict XVI (pope), 350n.26 as vertically integrated body, 330
benevolent autocracy, 123 Catholic Relief Services, 327
Bentham, Jeremy, 97 cease-fires, 196–99, 215–17, 220, 221n.4
Berlinguer, Enrico, 29 Central America, 236
bin Laden, Osama, 177, 322, 337, 347 Chad, 236
Bishops-Ulema Dialogue, 341 change, 39, 42n.3, 44n.23
blood diamonds, 175 See also theory of change
blood money, 108 Chesterman, Simon, 76, 356–57
border conflicts, 48 Child Friendly Cities, 69
border towns, 22 children, 294–95, 297–98, 303, 305–308
Bosnia-Herzegovina, 57, 360, 363–64 Chile, 110, 235–36
ethnic cleansing in, 338, 354 Chissano, Joaquim, 29–30
foreign aid, 126 Christianity, 101, 109, 337, 340, 343, 347
hybrid courts in, 234 church-state separation, 334–35
international missions in, 128 CICTE. See Inter-American Committee
media in, 73 against Terrorism
religion in, 338 cities, 310
UN in, 119, 120, 123, 124, 129, 134 civil society, 178, 264, 268n.49
Boutros-Ghali, Boutros, 5–6, 8, 46, 119, 121, civil wars
141, 143, 353 economic costs of, 160
Brahimi, Lakhdar, 6, 129 and employment, 255
Brahimi Report, 8, 122, 127, 130, 141, 280 ethnic, 320
Brooks, Rosa, 219 and international peacebuilding, 57
Brown, Michael E., 58 religious, 320, 349n.13, 349n.16
Brzezinski, Zbigniew, 317 settled by negotiation, 5, 7, 8, 53
Burundi, 155 and strategic peacekeeping, 147, 148
Bush, George H.W., 5 clarity, 123, 124, 125, 129, 130, 136, 278
Bush, George W., 62n.20, 120, 125, 127 clash of civilizations, 337
Bush, Ken, 71 cluster thinking, 39
collective guilt, 203, 225n.98
Call, Charles T., 7 Collier, Paul, 54
Cambodia, 120, 126, 135–36, 193, 200, 206, Colombia, 21, 25, 26, 32–33, 37, 335, 336, 344
234, 242 common law systems, 237
cancer patients, 302 community friendship, 291–315
INDEX 371
Community of Sant’Egidio, 20, 28–30, 72, and international judicial processes, 220
324 and punishment, 109
compensation, 108 and reconciliation, 97
Conflict Data Project, 73, 320 and rule of law, 128
conflict(s) of war, 4, 207, 227n.121
asymmetric, 279 Cristiani, Alfredo, 96
border, 48 Croatia, 6, 120, 331
causes of continuing, 152 Crocker, David, 96
communal, 115n.6 Culbertson, Hal, 356
decline of, 355 Cyprus, 354
escalation into violence, 34
ethnic, 16n.3 Darfur (Sudan), 196, 217, 273, 335
and humanitarian aid, 282 Dayton Agreement, 120, 220
identity, 341 deliberate strategies, 77, 78
internal, 50, 58 democracy
intrastate, 119, 247 global, 360
management, 367n.21 in Iraq, 56
need for research on, 46 and peacebuilding, 154–55, 161
and religion, 319–21, 325–26, 340, 341, peace process based on, 358
361 and terrorism, 181
resolution, 42n.3, 338, 359, 361, 367n.21 third wave, 3, 15n.1
“ripe,” 166n.20 democracy-building, 48–50, 56
state-formation, 50, 51 Dependent Rational Animals (MacIntyre), 98
third-party roles in, 273–79 deterrence, 201–202, 218, 220
See also war(s) development, 178–80
conflict trap, 250, 251, 259 dialogues, 343–44, 352n.71
conflict typology, 46–48, 51, 147 Diamond, Larry, 56
Congo, 172, 173, 174, 335, 344 diamonds, 54, 174, 175
constructivists, 147 dignity, 94, 103
contribution, 39 divided sovereignty, 167n.40
cooperation, 147–48, 152–53, 176, 184 divorce, 302
coordination Dobbins, James, 8
and civil–military relations, 124 domestic legal processes, 205–207
definition of, 276 donor community, 140n.43
excess of, 277 Downs, George, 6, 7
forms of, 76 Doyle, Michael W., 7, 8, 144, 357
institutional, 129 DRC. See Congo
and international peace operations, 152–53 driving, 298
models of, 276 drug rehabilitation, 302
and peacebuilding, 75, 156–57, 279 due process, 103, 203–204, 243
and Peacebuilding Commission, 131–34 Duffield, Mark, 358
and strategic peacebuilding, 273 Dunantists, 286n.35
and strategic peacekeeping, 147–48 Dunlop, John, 321
within UN system, 184 Du Toit, André, 94
Cortright, David, 358
Côte d’Ivoire, 172, 173 Easter Rising, 293
counterterrorism, 175–85 East Germany, 328, 335, 344
Cousens, Elizabeth M., 7 East Timor, 56, 128
Cox, Brian, 328 conflict in, 57, 360
crimes disincentives for violent behavior, 364
and cease-fires, 215–16 human rights, 243
German and Japanese, 225n.98 hybrid courts, 206, 234
372 INDEX
East Timor (continued) exhumations, 241

liberation movement, 49 exit strategies, 134–36
near collapse of peace, 361 exports, 59, 162, 165n.10, 173, 250–51, 255
oil discovery, 55
reconciliation processes, 107, 241 facilitative peacekeeping, 148
tribunals, 200 faith-based advocacy campaigns, 335
truth commissions, 110 faith-based diplomacy, 328
UN in, 120, 123, 129, 134–35, 139n.17 Fast, Larissa, 71, 359
echo effect, 38 financing postconflict operations, 125–26,
Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC), 140n.43, force, 143, 176, 337–39
131, 132, 133 foreign aid, 146, 154
economic globalization, 247–69 forgiveness, 101, 111–13, 291–315, 360
economic justice, 106 Franco-German relations, 51, 58, 355
economic liberalization, 248, 249, 253–56 Freedom House, 73, 105
economic sanctions. See sanctions FRELIMO (Front for the Liberation of
economy, 49, 54–55, 145, 153–54, 160–63 Mozambique), 19–20, 29–30
ECOSOC. See Economic and Social Council friendship, 291–315
ecumenical peacebuilding, 339–45 Aristotelian concepts of, 303–304
elderly, 302 civic, 295–96, 360
elections, 154–55 definition of, 301
electricity, 165n.9 and forgiveness, 310–12, 360
El Salvador, 79, 96, 106 and unconditionality, 300–301
emergent strategies, 77 Fukuyama, Francis, 8
empathetic detachment, 342
enforcement, 148, 153, 159, 165n.16, 193–94 Galtung, Johan, 72
English language, 128 game theory, 147
Enright, Jeanette Knutson, 360 Gaza , 282, 285n.22
Enright, Robert, 360 Geneva Conventions, 224n.70, 233
Eritrea, 47, 49–51, 55, 173 genocide, 93, 155, 200, 207, 215, 227n.121,
Ethiopia, 47, 49, 50, 55, 173 233, 242, 330, 354
ethnic conflict, 16n.3 Georgia, 47
ethnoreligious war, 325 Germany, 52, 54, 55, 96, 108, 225n.98
Europe, 173, 178 See also Franco-German relations
European Community, 173 Gini coefficient, 267nn.35–36
European Council, 183 global governance, 259–62
European Union, 363–64 globalization, 191, 247–69, 360
evaluation, 356 global markets, 260
accountability, 66–68, 70, 81 goals, 39, 71–72, 74
dilemmas, 72–74 Goncalves, Don Jaime, 28–30
dissemination and use of, 82 good governance, 140n.50, 178–80
and exit strategies, 134–36 Gopin, Marc, 338, 341, 343
learning paradigm, 66, 68–70, 82, 83 Govier, Trudy, 311
methods, 81–82 grassroots agency, 43n.11
paradigms, 66–71 group forgiveness, 311
of peacebuilding initiatives, 65–86 growth, 250–52
processes, 80–82 Guatemala, 106, 107, 234, 236, 238, 240,
of religious peacebuilding, 323–25 245n.16, 256, 335
scope of, 81
Evangelical Lutheran Church, 328 Habré, Hissène, 236
Evans, Peter, 258 Hague, The, 205, 206, 208
evil, 101, 112 Haiti, 171, 174, 234, 249
exchange rates, 267n.34 hatred, 292
INDEX 373
Hayden, Patrick, 201, 225n.87 impunity, 199–201, 216, 219, 225n.102,

healing, 28, 32, 336 226n.121
health care, 128 impunity gap, 235
Heathershaw, John, 57 inadequacy, 125–27
Hoffmann, Stanley, 317 inappropriateness, 127–29
holism, 8–10, 24, 108 incest, 301
Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 22 inconsistency, 123–25
Holmgren, Margaret, 299 India, 50, 105, 251
Holocaust, 108 Indonesia, 49, 224n.67
Holter, Anthony, 360 inequality, 253–56
holy war, 337–39 inherent worth, 301, 306
horizontal integration, 330–31, 332 In My Father’s House (Appiah), 136
hostility, 145, 152, 153, 154 institutions, 104–106, 119–40, 233,
Human Development Report, 250, 253, 261 327, 356
humanitarian action, 162, 271–87, 359 integrated approach, 365
human resources, 128 integrity, 278
human rights Inter-American Commission and Court,
abuses, 223n.59, 359 237–38
accountability, 202, 208 Inter-American Commission on Human
barring violators from office, 110 Rights, 245n.14
enhancement of, 178 Inter-American Committee against
Geneva Conventions, 224n.70 Terrorism (CICTE), 183
gross violations of, 201, 203, 207, 208, Inter-American Court of Human Rights,
218, 227n.121 245n.14
law enforcement, 193 interdependence, 4, 9–10, 22, 25, 40
meaning of, 106 intergovernmental organizations (IGOs),
and peacebuilding, 34, 215, 359 170, 181
peace process based on, 358 internal conflicts, 50, 58
and political injustice, 93, 94, 104 international administration, 8
prosecuting violators, 109 International Commission on Intervention
and strategic peacebuilding, 214, 231–46 and State Sovereignty (ICISS), 275
and terrorism, 181, 182 International Criminal Court (ICC), 189,
and truth commissions, 107 196–206, 208–12, 215–19, 224n.74,
Human Security Report, 6, 35, 46 224n.76, 226n.121, 227n.131, 234, 359
Hummaida, Osman, 196, 199 international institutions, 119–40
Humphreys, Macartan, 54 international judicial processes
Huntington, Samuel, 318, 337 causal connections, 192–95
Hurrell, Andrew, 249 and cease-fires, 196–99
hybrid courts, 206, 210, 215, 234 and curtailment of impunity, 199–201
and deterrence, 201–202
ICC. See International Criminal Court and domestic legal processes, 205–207
ICISS. See International Commission on and due process, power, and political
Intervention and State Sovereignty role, 203–204
ICRC. See Red Cross and global rule-of-law society, 208–209
identity, 300–301, 319, 341, 342 and peace and justice, 359
ignorance, 94 and peacebuilding, 189–228
IGOs. See intergovernmental organizations and reconciliation, 207–208
IMF. See International Monetary Fund and reduction of atrocities, 196–99
immigration, 22, 25 and truth and collective guilt, 203
impartiality, 143, 274, 278, 279, 281, 283, International Monetary Fund (IMF), 131,
284n.5 156, 181, 256, 258, 261
imports, 250 International Negotiation, 276
374 INDEX
international peace operations, 152–53, reconciliation as concept of, 95–96

233–35, 247 in scriptures, 99–100
international trials, 205, 207, 208 systems, 242
inter-religious peacebuilding, 339–45 transitional, 3, 114n.1
interstate wars, 47, 51, 54 wounds of political injustice, 93–95
intrastate conflicts, 119, 247 See also international judicial processes
IRA. See Irish Republican Army justpeace, 23–24, 32–34, 36, 42n.3, 99, 366
Iraq just war, 92, 337–39
bombings in, 281
democracy in, 56 Kairos Document, 105
ending of 2003 war, 62n.20 Kant, Immanuel, 96–97, 303
goals for U.S. withdrawal, 37 Karadzic, Radovan, 204
interstate war in, 47, 51, 54 Karzai, Hamid, 130
and participatory peace, 358 Kashmir, 105, 358
reconstruction in, 120, 127 Khmer Rouge, 242
refugees from, 45 Kimberley Process, 175
religion as part of conflict in, 321 Kosovo, 56, 57, 120, 123, 127–30, 134,
sanctions against, 171, 172, 174 144–45, 200, 234, 354
Shiite and Sunni Muslims, 345 Kostic, Roland, 57
sovereignty post 2003 U.S. invasion, 155 Krueger, Alan, 182
U.S. action in, 176
Irish Republican Army (IRA), 293, 321, 331, labor, 255, 267n.42
338 Latin America, 251, 327
Islam, 100–101, 322, 325–26, 339, 341, 343, law(s)
345, 347, 348, 350n.37 common law systems, 237
Israel–Palestine conflict, 47, 338, 347 criminal, 240
Italy, 29, 30 domestic legal processes, 205–207
enforcement, 193–94
Jackson, Robert, 211 human rights, 193
Japan, 52, 54, 55, 62n.20, 225n.98 rule of, 93, 104, 128, 192, 208–209, 215,
Jesus Christ, 100 218, 227n.129, 358
Johansen, Robert, 233–34, 359 and state, 103
John XXIII (pope), 42n.3 of war, 93–94, 104
John Paul II (pope), 29, 42n.3 learning, 66, 68–70, 82, 83, 356
Johnston, Douglas, 328 Lebanon, 52, 55, 282
Jones, Bruce, 155, 156 Lederach, John Paul, 66, 78, 79, 165n.7,
Joseph (biblical figure), 298 170, 190, 214–15, 271–72, 283, 323,
Judaism, 99, 101, 109, 340 330–31, 336, 355, 362–63
judicial activism, 195 legitimacy, 117n.32
judicial processes. See international judicial Lewis, Bernard, 337
processes Lewis, C.S., 311
judicial prosecution, 212–14 liberal institutionalism, 360
justice liberal-local hybrid, 363
definition of, 97 liberal peace, 4–9, 17n.34, 353–66
economic, 106 Liberia, 172, 174, 175
ethic of restorative, 96–98 Libya, 172, 176–77
and forgiveness, 309 life saving, 209–11, 216, 221n.4
and judicial processes, 211–14 light footprint approach, 124, 128
as part of peacebuilding, 33–35, 214 Little, David, 327, 342, 350n.26, 351n.56
and peace, 42n.3, 91, 189–228, 350n.26, local capacities, 145, 152, 159, 163
359 local communities, 27–28, 31
Plato on, 295 local processes, 239–43
INDEX 375
Locke, John, 96 Moreno-Ocampo, Luis, 197

logframe, 84n.14 More Secure World, A, 6, 9
Longman, Tim, 243 Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF), 21,
Lopez, George, 358 31, 324
Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), 196–99, Mott Foundation, 81
202, 207, 212–13, 217, 219, 332 Mozambique, 19–20, 25, 26, 28–30, 72,
loss of life, 209–11, 216, 221n.4 241, 324
love, 303–304, 311 Muslims. See Islam
LRA. See Lord’s Resistance Army mutually hurting stalemate, 149
Lu, Catherine, 202, 219
“NAFTA math,” 251
Macedonia, 343 Namibia, 6, 57, 120
Machel, Samora, 19–20, 29 nationalism, 337, 338
Machiavelli, Nicolo, 309–10 national state, 232–33
MacIntyre, Alasdair, 98, 117n.31 nation-building, 49, 50, 60, 120
Mack, Andrew, 6, 7, 35–36 Natsios, Andrew, 277
Mack, Myrna, 238, 245n.16 natural resources, 145, 260
Madison (Wis.), 294 Nazism, 93, 96
Magee, Roy, 351n.56 negative identity, 341
Making War and Building Peace (Doyle and negative peace, 72, 73, 91
Sambanis), 7, 145 negotiated settlements, 8, 16n.8
Malaysia, 21 neoliberal economic strategies, 360
Mandela, Nelson, 111, 112, 113 neoliberal states, 249, 256–59
market-building, 49, 50, 54 neorealists, 147
market democracy. See political network of effective action approach, 277
liberalization Neufeldt, Reina, 342
market liberalization, 248, 250–52, 255, 261, neutrality, 143, 274, 278, 279, 281, 283,
263 285n.5
Marshall, Christopher B., 109 New Economics Foundation, 254
Médécins Sans Frontières, 278 New Testament, 100
media, 73 NGOs. See nongovernmental
mediation, 42n.3, 273–75, 283 organizations
Méndez, Juan, 197, 203 Nicaragua, 249
Mercado, Elisio “Jun,” 324 Nicomachean Ethics (Aristotle), 295, 312
mercy, 98, 99–100, 299, 300, 309, 311 Nilsson, Desirée, 54
Merton, Thomas, 312 Nobel Peace Prize laureates, 328
Middle East, 59, 340, 347, 354, 358 “No Exit Without Strategy” report, 141
Mighty and the Almighty, The (Albright), 317 Nogales (Mex./Ariz.), 21, 25, 30–31
MILF. See Moro Islamic Liberation Front nongovernmental organizations (NGOs),
military force, 176, 339 67, 68, 70, 72, 73, 75–77, 170, 181,
Mill, John Stuart, 97 277, 281, 328
Milosevic, Slobodan, 204, 326, 328 nonviolence, 336–39
Milwaukee (Wis.), 294 nonviolent activism, 42n.3, 105
Mindanao (Philippines), 21, 25, 26, 31–32, North, Joanna, 299
38, 341 Northern Ireland, 47, 292–94, 321, 330, 331,
missionaries, 328 333, 337, 342, 344, 358
Mladic, Ratko, 204 Nye, Joseph, 317
moderates, 57, 343–44, 346
modesty, 129 OAS. See Organization of American
Montt, Efraín Ríos, 236 States
moral culture, 336 observer missions, 151
moral regeneration, 218–20 ODD. See oppositional defiant disorder
376 INDEX
OECD/DAC. See Organization for and conflict typology, 46–48

Economic Co-operation and and coordination, 75, 156–57, 279
Development (OECD) Development definitions, 23–26, 36–38, 50, 52, 66, 71,
Assistance Committee (DAC) 121, 165n.7, 191, 271–72, 323
Office of the High Representative (OHR), ecumenical, 339–45
363–64 enterprise, 71–74
oil, 165n.10, 174 evaluation of initiatives, 65–86
Olsson, Louise, 57 evolution of, 361–62
O’Neill, Barry, 110 formulation of strategy, 77–80
oppositional defiant disorder (ODD), and global governance, 259–62
297–98 in globalized world, 31, 45
Organization for Economic Co-operation and healing, 28, 32
and Development (OECD) and human rights, 34, 215, 359
Development Assistance Committee improvement of strategies, 74–80
(DAC), 67, 82, 138n.6, 179 international, 57, 247
Organization of American States (OAS), and international judicial processes,
183, 245n.14 189–228
Osman, Salih Mahmoud, 196 interstate, 57
ownership, 124 and judicial prosecution, 212–14
and justice, 214–20
pacifism, 337, 339 liberal, 361–62
Paisley, Ian, 321 multiplicity of, 362
Paris, Roland, 6, 7, 17n.34, 56, 73, 155, 161, networks, 264, 283
248, 249, 257, 260 OECD/DAC on, 138n.6
participatory peace, 144–46, 163, 357–58 and peace, 214–20
patriotism, 338 problems with current approaches,
Paul VI (Pope), 42n.3 154–57
peace and reconciliation, 28, 91–118, 213, 336
agreements, 149, 207, 231, 256, 260 and religion, 317–52, 361
as continuum, 144 research into, 46, 52–59, 60
definition of, 41n.1 Security Council on, 8–9
economic growth in transitions, 160–63 and state, 48–52
evolving standards of interventions, state of the art of, 365
142–44 strategy in age of, 3–15
failure, 157–59 success, 144–45, 210
hermeneutics of, 327 triangle, 7–8
international operations, 152–53 at UN, 3–7, 17n.22, 121, 126–27, 130
and judicial processes, 211–14 See also strategic peacebuilding
and justice, 42n.3, 91, 189–228, 350n.26, Peacebuilding Commission, UN, 9, 10, 46,
359 76, 122, 131–34, 156, 346
liberal, 4–9, 17n.34 personalism, 107
negative, 72, 73, 91 Peru, 237, 242, 335
and neoliberal state, 256–59 Peterson, Roger, 292
participatory, 144–46, 163, 357–58 Philippines, 21, 31, 324, 328, 335, 341, 344
and peacebuilding, 214–20 Philpott, Daniel, 190, 338–39, 349n.15,
positive, 72, 73, 74, 91 350n.37, 353, 356
sustainable, 142, 144, 149, 163, 193 Pinochet, Augusto, 235–36
See also peacebuilding Plan de Sánchez, 238
peacebuilding Plato, 295
broad concept of, 50–51 Poland, 331, 334, 335, 344
comprehensive and sustainable, 23–26, Polanyi, Karl, 263
40–41 political injustice, 93–95
INDEX 377
political liberalization, 248, 358 political, 97–98, 102–104, 356

political order, 325 postviolence, 37
political roles, 203–204 and punishment, 108–10, 111, 113
politics, 335, 336 and religion, 98–102
poor. See poverty and reparations, 107–108
positive peace, 72, 73, 74, 91 six practices of, 97, 104–13
postconflict reconstruction, 120, 121–22, state’s role, 102
194, 232 and truth, 226n.115
poverty, 3, 179, 253, 254 reconstruction, 120, 121–22, 194, 232
Powell, Colin, 277 Recuperation of Historical Memory project,
power, 34, 125, 203–204, 310, 326–32 240
Powers, Gerard, 361 Red Cross, International Committee of the,
practices, 117n.31 128, 278, 281, 282
preachers, 337 Reflecting on Peace Practices project, 72
preferred religion model, 334, 335 refugees, 45, 282
Presbyterian Church, 342, 344 relief aid, 281
primary commodity exports, 165n.10 religion
primary restorations, 97 and conflict, 319–21, 325–26, 340, 341, 361
primary wounds, 95 in international affairs, 345
Prince, The (Machiavelli), 310 manipulation of, 325
project design, 80–81 and peacebuilding, 317–52, 361
property rights, 162 and politics, 335, 336
prosecutions, 212–18, 221n.4, 238 poll on, 350n.25
punishment, 97, 100, 108–10, 111, 113, 219, public role for, 333–45
243 and reconciliation, 98–102
purchasing power parity, 267n.34 reinforcing commonalities in, 340
resources for peacebuilding, 327–28
Qur’an, 100–101, 109 and state, 334, 335, 336
substantive approach to, 347
rape, 93 U.S. engagement with, 345–46
Ratner, Steven R., 202 religious dissimilarity, 319
Rau, Johannes, 108 religious extremism, 321, 347, 349n.24
Rawls, John, 101 religious identity, 319, 341, 342
raw materials, 54 religious incompatibility, 319
real income, 165n.9 religious war, 325
reburials, 241 RENAMO (Mozambique National
reconciliation Resistance), 19–20, 29–30
and acknowledgment, 106–107 reparations, 107–108, 219, 238
advocates of, 96 respect, 303
and apology, 110–11, 113 responsibility, 227n.131
building just institutions, 104–106 Responsibility to Protect (report), 6, 127, 275
Catholic sacrament of, 340 restorative punishment, 109
as concept of justice, 95–96 revenge, 311
critics of, 95–96 Riccardi, Andrea, 30
definition of, 300 Rieff, David, 280
in East Timor, 241 Roeder, Philip G., 8
ethic of restorative justice, 96–98 Roht-Arriaza, Naomi, 359
and forgiveness, 111–13 Roman Catholic Church. See Catholic
and judicial proceedings, 207–208, 211–14 Church
and nation-building, 49 Rome Statute, 195, 199, 202, 215, 216,
OECD/DAC on, 138n.6 224n.76
and peacebuilding, 28, 91–118, 213, 336 Rose, Sir Michael, 119–20
378 INDEX
Rothchild, Donald, 8 Somalia, 119, 120, 134, 173, 174, 354

rule of law, 93, 104, 128, 192, 208–9, 215, Sorokobi, Yves, 197
218, 227n.129, 358 South Africa, 105, 110, 112, 113, 200, 207,
rule-utilitarian ethic, 359 311, 335
Rwanda Spain, 47
arms embargo, 173, 174 spoilers, 149–50
Catholic Church in, 330, 350n.41 Sri Lanka, 47, 281, 338, 354, 358
genocide in, 99, 119, 155, 193, 242, 330, standing victory, 94
354 state
humanitarian aid, 282 church separation, 334–35
human rights in, 243 competence of, 103
peacekeeping troops in, 150 definition of, 136
poorly informed population, 224n.74 failure, 56, 60, 121
tribunals, 200, 201, 207, 226n.121, 234 institutions, 119, 120–21
UN failure in, 7 and law, 103
making of, 357
Sadat, Leila Nadya, 200, 202 national, 232–33
Saddam Hussein, 47, 62n.20, 194 neoliberal, 249, 256–59
al-Sadr, Muqtada, 321 and reconciliation, 102
Sambanis, Nicholas, 7, 8, 252, 357 and religion, 334, 335, 336
sanctions, 169–78, 186n.1, 201, 358 state-building, 47–52, 56–57, 122, 127, 129,
Sant’Egidio. See Community of Sant’Egidio 142
Santos, Alexandre dos, 30 State Department (U.S.), 346
Scharf, Michael P., 189 state-formation conflicts, 50, 51
scriptures, 99–100, 109 Stedman, Stephen John, 6, 7, 78, 150
secondary restorations, 98 Steele, David, 323
secularist paradigm, 317–22, 348n.2, 361 Stein, Jeff, 345
security-building, 48, 50, 59–60 storytelling, 307
security community, 51 strategic failure, 130
Security Council. See United Nations, strategic peacebuilding, 220
Security Council as architectonic, 40
Senegal, 236 art of, 35–38
Seoul (Korea), 302 beyond liberal peace, 353–66
sequential thinking, 39–40 as comprehensive, 40
Serbia, 328, 335, 344 concepts and challenges, 45–63
Serbian Orthodox Church, 325–26, 328 definitions, 36–38, 121, 191, 271–72, 323
shadow alignment, 131 and economic globalization, 247–69
shalom, 99 environment, 74–77
Shapiro, Bruce, 202 five principles of, 40–41
Sharon, Ariel, 237 and forgiveness, 291–315
Shiite Muslims, 345 and humanitarian action, 271–87
Sierra Leone, 172, 174, 175, 200, 206, 234, and human rights, 214, 231–46
241, 342 as integrative, 26–33, 41
simultaneity, 40 as interdependent, 26–33, 40
al-Sistani, Ali, 321, 322, 345 international institutions in, 119–40
smart sanctions, 171–78, 201 justice at core of, 33–35
Smith, Jackie, 34, 121, 360 meaning of, 365
Snyder, Jack, 155 overview of, 19–44
social immune system, 275 power and virtue of, 326–32
social integration, 191, 193, 194, 261 and sanctions, 171–75
solidarists, 286n.35 as sustainable, 40–41
Solomon Islands, 364 and terrorism, 175–78
INDEX 379
of UN, 122–68 unconditionality, 300–301

See also peacebuilding UN Development Program (UNDP), 250,
strategic peacekeeping, 147–52 253–55
Stromseth, Jane, 219 UNDP. See UN Development Program
strong religion, 319 unemployment, 55, 59, 255
structural adjustment policies, 256–57, UNICEF, 79
268n.49 United Nations (UN)
Sudan, 172, 177, 196, 197, 211, 274, 284n.3, in Bosnia, 120, 123, 124, 129, 134
334 in Cambodia, 135–36
suffering, 94, 106 “can-do” attitude of staffers, 128–29
Sunni Muslims, 345 challenges to, 119, 129
Supplement to an Agenda for Peace, 8, 119, 141 counterterrorism, 176–85
sustainable peace, 142, 144, 149, 163, 193 Counter-Terrorism Committee (CTC),
Svensson, Isak, 319, 320 177–80, 182–85
system change facilitators, 39 Counter-Terrorism Executive Directorate
(CTED), 177–79, 182, 184–85
Tajikistan, 57 Department of Peacekeeping Operations,
Taliban, 125, 174, 184 122, 138n.8, 163
Tamil Tigers, 47, 49 Department of Political Affairs, 138n.8
targeted sanctions, 169–78 in East Timor, 120, 123, 129, 134–35,
Taylor, Charles, 174 139n.17
terminally ill, 302 Economic and Social Council, 131, 132,
terrorism, 175–85, 320, 338–39, 345, 346, 133
349n.15, 358 endorsed peace agreements, 207
theories of action, 277 enforcement missions, 159
theory of change, 69, 80, 342 in governing role, 127, 129
third wave of democracy, 3, 15n.1 impact on long-term war avoidance,
Tibet, 331 157–60
Timor-Leste. See East Timor integrated missions, 280, 281
Toft, Monica Duffy, 5, 8, 320, 349n.13 in Iraq, 281
torture, 233 in Kosovo, 120, 123, 129, 134
Torture Victims Protection Act (U.S.), 237 mixed success of peace efforts, 7,
toxic anger, 298–300 17n.22
trade, 254, 255, 260 in Namibia, 57
transformational peacekeeping, 148, 150, observer missions, 151
151, 165n.16 as occupying power, 120
transitional administrations, 124–26, and participatory peace, 146
128–30 Peacebuilding Commission, 9, 10, 46, 76,
transitional justice, 3, 114n.1 122, 131–34, 156, 346
transnational actors, 330, 332 peacebuilding operations, 3–7, 17n.22,
transnational investigations, 235–39 121, 126–27, 130
treaties. See peace, agreements peacebuilding problems, 122–29
trials, 205, 207, 208, 224n.77, 225n.98, postconflict reconstruction, 121–22
246n.34 and religion, 346
trust, 279, 341 revolution, 5–6, 8
truth, 203, 212, 226n.115, 359 role of, 4, 261
truth commissions, 106–7, 203, 233, 234, sanctions, 169–78, 186n.1
239, 240 Secretariat, 138n.8, 171
Tschirgi, Neclâ, 247 Security Council, 5, 8, 120, 131–33, 150–51,
156, 169, 172–77, 180, 184, 185, 186n.1,
Uganda, 52, 55, 196–99, 206, 212–13, 217, 215, 226nn.120–21
219, 224n.74, 241, 332, 335, 342–43 strategic peacebuilding, 122–68
380 INDEX
United Nations (continued) endings of, 53, 55

strategic peacekeeping, 147–52 holy, 337–39
and transitional administrations, 124–26, interstate, 47
128–30 just, 92, 337–39
Uppsala University, 73, 319, 320 laws of, 93, 104
Uribe, Álvaro, 21 new, 46–47, 258
peace after, 53
vertical integration, 330, 331, 332 recurrence, 52, 158, 159
Victores, Óscar Humberto Mejía, 236 religious, 325
victories, 53, 54 start of, 54
violence state as central to, 48
approach to ending, 25 statistics on, 53
conflicts escalating into, 34 UN impact on avoidance, 157–60
in contemporary societies, 260–61 See also civil wars
culture of, 336 Washington Consensus, 6, 8
in local communities, 27 water rituals, 241
mediation for, 42n.3 weak religion, 319
in Northern Ireland, 293 weapons of mass destruction, 177
prevention of, 24 West Bank, 285n.22
reduction and management of, 23 Wippman, David, 219
religious, 337–38, 350n.26 women, 54, 57, 93, 264, 302
See also conflict(s); war(s) World Bank, 9, 131, 156, 164, 250, 252,
virtues, 296–97, 309, 310, 312, 256–58, 261
326–32 World Trade Organization, 252, 261
World Vision, 327
wages, 255 woundedness, 94–95, 104
Waldron, Jeremy, 108
Wallenstein, Peter, 355 Yugoslavia, 123, 172–74, 194, 200, 201, 204,
warriors, 337 226nn.120–21, 234, 325–26, 334
war(s)
as affecting entire planet, 45 Zaire, 174, 282
crimes, 4, 207, 227n.121 Zuppi, Don Mateo, 30

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Strategies of Peace

STUDIES IN STRATEGIC PEACEBUILDING

R. Scott Appleby, John Paul Lederach, and Daniel Philpott

Published in the Series

Oxford New York

Copyright © 2010 by Oxford University Press, Inc.

Published by Oxford University Press, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Introduction: Searching for Strategy in an

8. Peace and Justice? The Contribution of International Judicial

R. SCOTT APPLEBY is Professor of History and John M. Regan Jr.

GEORGE A. LOPEZ is the Rev. Theodore M. Hesburgh, C.S.C., Professor

The most recent generation in global politics might well be called

The Liberal Peace and Its Critics

When, in 1989, four decades of worldwide ideological rivalry came to an end,

world order, the document both reﬂects on the ballooning of UN operations

distinguish between catastrophic failures and partial successes and hence

triangle” in which international capacities, levels of hostility, and local capaci-

peacebuilding is aimed at preventing the outbreak, the recurrence

on fostering sustainable development, the eradication of poverty and

A Proposal for Strategic Peacebuilding

UN policy but still worries that UN counterterrorism policies risk radicalizing

Consensus approach of creating free market institutions and reducing public

38. Report of the Panel on UN Peace Operations, 1, 6, 7.

As faculty members of a peace institute, we study worldwide efforts

Following a decade of struggle, the African nation of Mozambique

In 2006, following the election of Álvaro Uribe as president of

At its core, peacebuilding nurtures constructive human relationships. To be

institutions and the repair or creation of partnerships conducive to the com-

Peacebuilding: Comprehensive and Sustainable

In this chapter we explore peacebuilding in its most capacious meaning by con-

settlements, and other elements of conﬂict resolution; it requires the redress

operations fulﬁll their potential by leading societies to the threshold of a just-

Strategic Peacebuilding: Interdependent and Integrated

Peacebuilders, like other professionals working on the international stage,

In addition, practitioners of on-the-ground peacebuilding began to realize

The principle of indigenous empowerment suggests that conﬂict trans-

global issues. This is a complicated pattern that is being replicated in thou-

1. A decade of grassroots initiatives that built relationships in local com-

4. The commitment on the part of the government to create a national

Although the Colombian government’s goal of ending paramilitarism

Justice at the Core of Strategic Peacebuilding

politics, economic development, the requirements of vibrant civil societies, the

The Art of Strategic Peacebuilding

As we have seen, a multiplicity of actors, originating from and working at all

Strategic peacebuilders therefore are intentional in thinking carefully about

Five Suggestions for Practitioners

First, the cornerstone of strategic practice is the act of locating oneself

of this approach is its capacity to provide phases and deliverable programs.

Conclusion: Five Principles of Strategic Peacebuilding

To summarize our argument, we conclude by reviewing ﬁve principles under-

thinking only in terms of immediate effective responses to issues and crises,

1. What is peace? is a question asked continually, not least by people working

Peacebuilding is one of the novel terms in political discourse that actu-

Research into the conditions of peacebuilding still is fairly limited. The