CCTS
Review 41 - December 2009

Introduction

This paper, like the book that is to follow,¹ is grounded in the thoughts and experiences of one circle of practitioners, in whose company and with the benefit of whose pooled experience I have developed the thinking that will be outlined (and necessarily only that) in this paper.

That circle of practitioners is the Committee for Conflict Transformation Support (CCTS), which was formed, under an even longer title,² in1992. In the intervening years we have kept our practice under constant review, sharing our excitements and disappointments, our questions and certainties. By and large, certainties have been in short supply, amounting to a conviction that some things were unquestionably bad. Knowing with equal, shared certainty what could and should be done in given circumstance has been quite another matter.

In this paper I want to articulate some key elements in my own thinking, seventeen years on, about which I hope to stimulate serious debate. I will devote the first section to reflections: on what has been achieved, on the evolution of theory and practice, on impact and evaluation, and on contextual influences. The second section will be given to global analysis, the third to the challenges inherent in that analysis and the fourth to an agenda for the future.

Reflections

Achievements

From my own very varied experience, I can testify to the quality of much conflict transformation work that has been undertaken, both by local peacebuilders and by external organisations supporting them, in initiatives of every kind. Here I can touch briefly on a few aspects of what has been done.

Conflicts are transformed by people, so their commitment and effectiveness are crucial. Capacity building work has been vital in enabling activists and organisations to become more effective. Training workshops, though not always as well focussed as they might have been, have often provided inspiration, life-changing insights and highly practical skills, at the same time building a sense of community among their participants. ‘Empowerment’ has been not only a by-word but a reality. Sometimes training workshops have doubled as dialogue workshops (also held separately), enabling their participants to understand and trust each other across communal divides, opening up possibilities for regional networking.

Local activists have mobilised nonviolently to challenge oppressive regimes, or violence within their own communities, or intercommunal violence. Some external organisations have provided much needed accompaniment for this kind of work, in some cases very quietly, in others being protectively visible. They have sometimes been able to enable grassroots activists to be heard in political quarters, at home and abroad, that they would otherwise have been unable to reach, and to exert political pressure over human rights violations or in support of change. In a few cases substantial help of all kinds, including money, has come to ‘people power’ revolutions. (These have been in countries where the regimes were disliked by the West and funds were easy to come by.)

Local activists, sometimes with financial support from outside, have done ground-breaking work in popular education, developing materials, whether for schools, radio or television, that are designed to touch and change. Arts projects, too, have reached wide audiences in ways designed to capture the imagination and change perceptions.

External organisations have also helped to build bridges between conflicting groups in contexts where the lack of trust between local actors has made such help necessary, facilitating dialogue between governments and armed groups, one armed group and another, or ‘track two’ leaders from opposing communities. And separate work has been done with armed groups to prepare them for negotiations and with government soldiers to help them to integrate with previously conflicting forces and carry out their duties with reduced violence. In all these contexts it is usually local actors who provide the necessary contacts.

Important reconciliation work has also been done, post-war, by local people determined to do what they can to restore relationships. Work has also been done to assist in demilitarisation and the establishment of civilian government and norms. Here NGOs are working particularly closely to governmental agendas, which can create problems (see Context, below).
The work of academics has both informed practice and given expression to the knowledge it has generated. It has also played a role, along with that of NGOs, in the vital and growing work to influence the policies of governments on conflict.

Despite all possible caveats, there is much that should be celebrated and that points to greater possibilities for transformation. And the growth in work to influence political policy is greatly to be welcomed.
When I think of the people I have worked with, when I listen to colleagues in every part of the globe who are changing their own communities, when I hear of small contributions that have helped wars to be settled and communities to live together and gender roles to be changed, I see how important this work is, both in its own right, in changing lives for the better, and in the wider scheme of things, for showing that transformation is possible.

Theory and practice

Constructive conflict

Conflict transformation was a key phrase for CCTS when it chose its new name. Though the term has lately fallen out of fashion, it embodies several important ideas. The most fundamental of these is that conflict is inevitable, given that difference and change are part of the human condition and that change, often involving conflict, is necessary in situations of oppression and injustice (‘structural violence’). The goal is not stability and quiescence but ‘positive peace’, which means the wellbeing of a whole society.

In conflict transformation the primary roles are those of local actors. While in many situations the salient need will be to build bridges and foster dialogue between communities, in other contexts, or for other groups or individuals, the first need is to find the ‘civil courage’ and skill necessary to stand up against violence, discrimination or repression. In both theoretical writing and funding practice, cross-community work and ‘conflict resolution’ are privileged while ‘constructive conflict’ is marginalised.

Where there is ‘structural violence’ and ‘latent conflict’, the task is to bring the conflict into the open and engage with it in ways that are themselves transformative, in order to make ‘peace by peaceful means’.³ Where a conflict has already become violent and destructive, it will be necessary first to transform the conflict itself. In complex social and political situations, transformative efforts will be needed at every level and in every aspect of society, involving the many and not just the few. But in practice, when latent conflict has been taken seriously it has tended to be seen as the task of the global establishment, ‘the international community’, to intervene – not for local populations to take action. Latent conflict is regarded by the dominant international powers primarily as a threat to stability, something to be addressed in order to prevent undue disturbance to the status quo.

Organisations and movements

We have plenty of evidence, at the micro level, that conflicts can be transformed. If we want to have an impact on macro conflicts, ‘working to scale’ will clearly be necessary,⁴ whether as individual organisations or collectively. But that will require the mobilisation of societies, or at least of significant elements within them. At present Western NGOs work largely with other NGOs, rather than with movements (though with locally grounded NGOs the distinction is less sharp and the boundaries may be fluid). Movements, being amorphous, are difficult to engage with from outside. Those who influence them are primarily those who are directly involved in them, but they can use support from beyond their membership, such as funds, visits and ‘accompaniment’ (whether for protection or encouragement) and fresh ideas or knowledge from other experiences. Outsiders may also offer contacts with individuals or institutions to which they need access.

Movements are volatile and partisan (for causes if not for people), while NGOs are sometimes under pressure from donors to avoid risk and may prefer initiatives that are seen as impartial or emollient. Movements will also be, by definition, more difficult to hold to account. Yet somehow popular activism needs to be built more strongly into our theory and practice. And if being partisan for what is judged to be just is acceptable after the violence of war, or in the form of peace constituencies mobilised to end it, it should also be acceptable in movements to prevent war by addressing wrongs nonviolently.

Power relations are crucial in conflict transformation and, as some of us have long argued,⁵ unless we embrace the praxis of concerted nonviolent mobilisation to challenge unjust power, the prevention of violence and resolution of structural conflicts will be impossible.

Justice, needs theory and hard reality

It will be apparent that conflict transformation, understood in the way I have outlined, can involve moral judgement. ‘Injustice’ and ‘oppression’ imply victims and perpetrators, while the processes embraced in ‘conflict resolution’, which gives the most generally recognised name to our field, are informed by ‘parity of esteem’ and are non-judgemental in character, having the goal of finding inclusive solutions that will meet the needs of all parties.

Needs theory has been profoundly important, both rationally and emotionally, humanising conflict and promoting empathy, helping us to understand people’s motivations and to identify key components for durable settlements. However, the theory suggests that needs are absolute and therefore non-negotiable, while the reality, even for the most fortunate among us, is that often our needs (for security, identity and autonomy) are met to some degree, imperfectly. This is our existential predicament.

Moreover, the ‘satisfiers’ of the needs⁶ of some may be inimical to the needs of others and contrary to the values of conflict transformation. For instance, it is vital to deal with armed groups and governments. They are the ones who can stop their own violence. Yet satisfying their needs (for position and employment for instance) may be done at the expense of those who have been victimised, who desire rather that they should be removed from power and held to account. Likewise, finding employment for demobilised soldiers is important, for them and for peace, but can cause resentment among civilians who also need work. I shall return to this theme under the heading of gender.

Dealing with the past

 ‘Dealing with the past (DWP)’ has become an important focus for our field, and rightly so. But, like support for nonviolent struggle, it takes us from the ‘non-judgemental’ framework of conflict resolution into one based on judgement and justice; ‘parity of esteem’ is out. This makes for a difficult transition, conceptually, morally and practically; and sometimes (as with child soldiers) victims cannot be separated from perpetrators.

It may seem to us that honesty, recognition and reparation are the least that victims should be able to expect but, like the reintegration and mental recovery of fighters and the return of displaced people, these are usually achieved, if ever, very belatedly. The ravages of war are so devastating, economically and in terms of habitat, as well as physically and psychologically, that the scale of what appears to be needed exceeds what seems possible. Choices have to be made, between the practical demands of the future and dealing with the past in such a way that those who have been damaged, and those who have done the damage, can be rehabilitated and begin to contemplate a future for themselves and their society.

War is always and everywhere a disaster, whose process is guaranteed to be barbaric and whose capacity to do good is, to say the least, limited. No theory must be allowed to mask that reality. Its impact is so bitter that it can never really be ‘dealt with’. The dead, being dead, cannot be rehabilitated, and countless lives are damaged beyond repair, scarring populations for generations. At one level, dealing with the past is fundamental to building peace, but it is even more important to address the global phenomenon of war. The need for action to prevent violence of all kinds – direct, structural and cultural⁷ – is clear. Yet it seems that, despite our field’s commitment to promoting nonviolent means of addressing conflict, we are not yet ready to apply our ethics and methods to war itself.

Gender

A chronic, diffuse domestic war of physical violence against women continues in many societies, along with the violence of the restrictions placed on their lives, and their exclusion from power. ‘Gender mainstreaming’ not withstanding, many in our field still tend to see this reality as beyond our remit as transformers of conflict. I would suggest that this is a gendered perspective and should change.
Furthermore, professionalisation in our field has a disproportionate impact on women, who in many places have restricted access to education, and although women may predominate in many NGOs, they rarely hold the ‘top jobs’ or receive the greatest recognition.

Women have worked hard to use UN Security Council Resolution 1325 to good effect and have made major contributions to many peace processes. But, as I have suggested, in efforts to escape from the immediate violence of war it is hard to avoid privileging the power of violence by giving our attention to its leaders, whether political or military, and those leaders are almost universally male. This reality is reflected in the relative absence of women, whether as parties or third parties, from top or high level negotiation processes, despite the progress made in building civil society’s role (including women’s) more broadly. And, by the same token, when it comes to the third party roles of external NGOs, most of the work that is done with political and military leaders remains male-dominated. There is, I suspect, an unspoken assumption that men will take other men more seriously; perhaps there is even an unacknowledged feeling that this is ‘men’s work’. It is also work that is incompatible with ‘normal’ family life, which leads women to self-exclude more readily than men.

Men also suffer from current constructions of gender. They are expected to kill and if necessary to be killed. The violation of women in war, like the killing of their ‘enemies’, is a violation of their own humanity. Here as elsewhere, our explicit values and aspirations run counter to most cultural norms and we have not yet found a way through.

Contextual influences

During the years under discussion there have been many contextual factors external to specific conflicts that have affected the work that has been done – and not done. Those I shall discuss here are related to money, discourse and politics. Donors and funding have already been mentioned. It need hardly be stressed that their role is crucial, for good and ill. As we have seen, the new managerialism that requires firm indications as to outcome can trap would-be recipients into limiting their ambitions to what can be predicted and achieved with relative certainty (or else into falsifications, small and large). Furthermore, donors have their own policies, which determine what they fund and thereby steer the direction of the funding-thirsty.

It is thanks to the increase in funding from government sources (often from development departments) that the volume of conflict transformation work has grown. But the use of the term ‘conflict transformation’ is open to question here, because donors have often steered work on conflict in directions related to very different agendas. Often there is an important relationship between conflict and development but development goals have tended to predominate. Moreover, ministers and civil servants are constantly moved around, so that expertise is not often allowed to develop, and increasingly work is contracted out to large firms of consultants, creating an ever-greater gap between informed human understanding of what is needed and the action taken, while the growing bureaucratisation of accountability reduces the space for courageous and inspired initiatives.

Not unnaturally, foreign policy goals, based on the perceived national interests of donors, have informed funding. Where those national interests have been understood to involve peace and justice elsewhere, that has encouraged enlightened funding. But where they have been seen in terms of hegemony, this has led to the hijacking of the terms ‘conflict prevention’ and ‘peacebuilding’ to describe interventions aimed at control, and conflict transformation has been in danger of being co-opted (sometimes has been). This has made work in some contexts very difficult to consider with integrity, as development departments and consequently their funds have been steered in these directions.

Hegemonic agendas have also been dressed in the clothes of ‘humanitarian intervention’ and the ‘responsibility to protect’ (R2P). These phrases have a powerful pull on the emotions and indeed there are countless situations where protective action is needed, in the name of humanity. In most of these situations no help is forthcoming. It is impossible to avoid the conclusion that the ‘big action’ comes where the big powers want to change things for their own advantage and it consists in the first place in military action, with ‘peacebuilding’ to follow.

The ‘war on terror’ has also been used to justify military action that is also hegemonic in purpose but is mingled with ideas borrowed from humanitarianism, the argument being ‘We are doing this for your security and for their liberation from tyranny’. In such circumstances ‘peacebuilding’ is tainted, and military occupation is a stimulant to ‘insurgency’ rather than democracy. Conflict transformation seems far away.

Impact and evaluation

Assessing our achievements is, to say the least, difficult. Evaluation is an increasingly contested process, particularly as related to impact (as against the quality of work done). There are a great many underlying questions. What could we have been expected to achieve, given the smallness of our resources in the great scheme of things? What is the relationship between the peacemaking efforts of local activists and their external supporters and changes in the broader context? How can threads be followed and attributions made in situations of such complexity, with such a range of actors, especially given the impact of actions and events elsewhere in the world – and sometimes direct interference from outside that cuts across efforts at conflict transformation?

While we celebrate the extraordinary work and achievements of people we know, we are conscious of all that they and we are not able to accomplish. Unfortunately, some of the most important work is also the most risky, in that it may not ‘work’ at all, for one reason or another; but even a small chance of success might justify the attempt. And despite the ‘do no harm’ injunction,⁸ in some cases the very initiatives that might do the most good could possibly do harm, but the cost of inaction is likely to be very high.

Even movement towards peace is itself likely to involve conflict, as parties realign themselves and factions within factions compete for dominance. A promising peace process can occasion an upsurge in violence from those whose interests are threatened. Those who are working inside a given situation are likely to be at greatest risk. It is they who are best placed to judge what they should attempt and what external support or initiative would be needed. But there will still be no guarantees and the risks will remain.

Beyond such particular uncertainties, how can we weigh the relative importance of different possible efforts, where resources are finite – to judge, for instance, whether to continue with long-established work in which much has been invested, which has been slow but still holds promise, or to embark on some new endeavour that is entirely unproven but could prove more fruitful?

Long-term commitment is both vital and problematic. To deal with the after-effects of violent conflict is likely to take decades, at least. Dealing with the past is as necessary as it is daunting, if new cycles of violence are to be prevented. But who will fund it for long enough to have an impact, and do so on an adequate scale? Money is found immediately and without question for military action in pursuit of vested interests, but the funds that are actually forthcoming for peacebuilding are typically disappointing (sometimes derisory), even in the short-term, and unlikely to be sustained.

Given all these dilemmas, how can we hold ourselves accountable and be held to account? How can we think, carefully, about the impact we are aiming for and the value of what we do, looking for ‘indicators’ where they might exist and having alternative ways of thinking and testing ourselves where they cannot? How can we minimise the risk of doing harm and at the same time do as much good as is possible? How can we increase synergy without losing flexibility and accountability? Perhaps the most important response to such questions is to keep asking them and to continue the endless process of creative and careful balancing in given situations, moving carefully, step by step, with occasional leaps of faith. But this is unlikely to satisfy many donors, who want to know with certainty that their money will be well spent and may seduce us into predicting outcomes which can in no way be forecast, or divert us from work that is more important as well as more risky.

Global analysis

Trapped in the system

We are rightly preoccupied with the need to transform ‘conflict writ large’.⁹ But how large? As I have suggested, conflicts are not isolated within state boundaries. Often, indeed, those boundaries are the focus of the conflict.

Many states were created by conquest and bear little relation to the way people within and beyond them think about their lives and connections. Yet the rule (recently breached in the case of Kosovo) is that their boundaries shall not change (except by the agreement between those directly involved) and that de facto changes should not be recognised. States are seen as vital units of control as well as collective organisation and armies are designed to protect them from within and without.

At the same time, ‘national sovereignty’ has been relativised, by global finance, international structures and the idea that external intervention is in some circumstance justified. And as states are increasingly challenged by forces within, shoring up ‘failed’ and ‘failing’ states is a major preoccupation of the ‘international community’ who, paradoxically, intervene in their internal affairs.

Indeed, ‘internal’ conflicts are frequently subject to forces that are beyond the sphere of influence of even the most extensive, intensive and professional endeavours of NGOs, local politicians or local citizens. However much ‘to scale’ one worked in Georgia, say, or Israel/Palestine, and however good that work might be, unless one were able to engage the big powers whose hegemony or ‘strategic interests’ are at issue in those places, its impact would always be subject to their will, which often means that it is effectively blocked or nullified.

The shadow of global struggles for dominance is cast across every region, making attempts at conflict transformation seem puny. For several millennia, military capacity and military action have been regarded as offering the route to power and position, and now the drive for dominance has a global dimension. This underlying militarism does not create security or stability: quite the reverse. Democracy, which positive peace requires, cannot be imposed, only lived. That democracy needs now to be global.

How is it that the institution of war is so widely accepted? The human rights that are built into democracy, and all the norms and standards of civil (and civilised) life, are set aside by war, which is comprised of summary execution, mutilation and physical agony. Why does the myth of ‘just causes’ persist when such human rights violations can never be justified and when it is evident that the real causes are hardly ever those proclaimed? Why does the myth of ‘exhausted alternatives’ convince anyone, when an overwhelming proportion of resources go into perpetuating the war machine and we have scarcely begun to scratch the surface of nonviolent ways of addressing large scale conflicts or defending populations? And why is war credited with the power to build peace, when its only power is to destroy and to coerce? What are the assumptions on which these beliefs are based? What is the world view that underlies them?

Competing world views

In 2006, at my suggestion, the CCTS arranged a seminar entitled Pacification or Peacebuilding?¹⁰ I, among others, made a brief presentation, outlining for the first time my emerging analysis, which lies at the heart of my forthcoming book. Here I will try to capture the essence of my thinking as it has developed, relating it to the challenges we face and the direction I think we need to take. (See the diagram below, developed from the original.)

I identify two fundamental orientations, which are both interwoven and radically different. While one views life as a matter of ‘eat or be eaten’, the other is grounded in a sense of interdependence. These two orientations inform every aspect of human behaviour but, in terms of our field, one leads to what I have labelled as pacification – endeavours to control or dominate – and the other to what I would regard as ‘true peacebuilding’, which is inclusive and cooperative in approach.

These contrasting approaches have huge consequences for how conflict and change are understood and treated. On the pacification side of things, conflict is perceived as a binary affair, with opposing sides which will themselves tend to be regarded by their opponents as monolithic. From the perspective of peacebuilding, conflict is multi-faceted, a complex of different actors and issues that cannot be controlled but need to be worked with.

From the perspective of ‘eat or be eaten’, stability is desirable and conflict should be prevented if possible (if the status quo is advantageous to ‘business as usual’) but waged vigorously if that is ‘necessary’ to the protection of interests. Either way, it is a matter of control, and violence may ‘need’ to be used. People are instruments of goals and as such are expendable.

From the ‘true peacebuilding’ perspective, conflict is potentially constructive and sometimes necessary to changing the things that are unjust. Constructive conflict seeks solutions that address the rights and needs of all who are involved, paving the way for cooperation. Violence contradicts the values of respect and coexistence, so nonviolent methods must be used. Coercion, if and when it is found to be necessary, must be temporary, must not inflict harm and should open the way to dialogue. The goal of all action must be the eventual wellbeing of all.

‘True peacebuilders’ will be broadly positive in their approach to international bodies and regulations, since these are potentially instruments of cooperation. However, they will want to see that the principles of fairness, nonviolence and inclusion, the hallmarks of positive peace, are applied to the structure and workings of such institutions. Pacifiers, on the other hand, will be unwilling to be fully committed to bodies and regulations that could compete with their own perceived interests. Their approach to them will be conditional and instrumental.

The notions of peace associated with these two tendencies are, unsurprisingly, very different. Those who see the world through the lenses of interdependence understand peace as a matter of ‘peaceful relationships’,¹¹ characterised by justice, mutual care and the co-operative exercise of power and responsibility. A peaceful society will be informed by a ‘constructive conflict culture’¹² and institutions that exclude the use of violence and are grounded in the values of interdependence. This culture and these institutions will embody a respectful, caring approach to other species and to the planet on which we all depend.

Approached from the point of view of pacification, peace is understood in terms of hegemonic stability, hierarchically managed, which in the first place meets the economic and political interests of those who dominate it. Conflict must be controlled or extinguished through the monopoly of violence. From this perspective the planet is a resource to be exploited and the universe is out there to be conquered.

At the heart of this analysis lies the question of gender. These two approaches bear a direct relationship to the way gender is constructed (rather than to genetic differences between the sexes). In the constructions of gender that are culturally dominant, femininity is associated with softness and mutuality, masculinity with coercive power and control. The archetype of masculinity is the warrior hero (as seen in statue form in many cities in the West). These cultural constructs involve the glorification of violent strength and male domination over women. It is no coincidence that war has been associated with the violation of women.

Both men and women suffer from the dictates and confines of gender constructions but this issue (like that of militarism itself) is so huge, pervasive and complex that it easily becomes invisible. Until its profound importance is taken for granted and incorporated at the heart of our theory, and until it is addressed in serious and radical ways, we shall be unable to move from pacification to peacebuilding.¹³

Contradictions and challenges

I am aware that the analysis I have presented can be seen as a caricature of reality, which in itself polarises and dichotomises. I can repeat my acknowledgement that these two approaches are interwoven in our lives, referring the reader to Michael Billig’s thesis that thinking always involves arguing and setting one thing against another,¹⁴ and framing this apparent contradiction as a ‘paradox’. I can also assert that in a fundamental way we need to choose. Nonetheless, I must face the real inherent tensions, which as I see it are mainly related to the way in which true peacebuilding can respond to pacification without becoming it.

Coercion

From the point of view of pacification coercion presents no problem, but it sits uncomfortably with the generally cooperative approach that lies at the heart of conflict transformation and ‘true peacebuilding’.

From the perspective of nonviolence, coercion that is used for good and that inflicts no pain or harm on living beings, is not ruled out, though the power of dialogue should be the first and last resort. The challenge is to find effective ways of acting nonviolently and effectively in situations where the pacification model prevails, and to do so without becoming part of the violent dynamic but rather transforming it.

Non-cooperation is a powerful form of nonviolence and a simple exercise in autonomy, but it can be strongly persuasive to the point of ‘forcing the hand’ of the other party. Some institutions require not only consent but active participation, without which they cannot continue. So factories are closed by strikes and governments are brought down by the massed power of people who refuse to accept a regime and its orders and persuade public servants to withdraw their services. We have seen many astounding examples of such power in recent decades.

Non-cooperation cannot be guaranteed to achieve positive goals. It can only prevent or end something – a limitation it shares with violent coercion, though both types may hope to have persuasive powers. Different forms of power and action will be needed to achieve the creative ends that are necessary for any episode of coercive nonviolence to stay within the interdependence framework and for peace to be built in place of tyranny. 

Responding to uncontrollable violence

Within the limits of human possibility we have a responsibility to protect.¹⁵ But militarism is designed to protect and extend hegemony, not people. ‘Peace operations’ especially when they are ‘robust’, are launched in the interest of the US and its allies. When resources are needed to protect the helpless, few if any ‘peacekeeping forces’ are likely to be forthcoming and in such circumstances will include few Western soldiers. Human rights reports from areas where international ‘peace forces’ are deployed include growing lists of crimes against those ‘protected’ and the ‘peacekeepers’ are drawn into the chaos of pre-existing violence. (Think of the DRC.)

Meanwhile the lip service paid in the R2P doctrine to prompt preventive action prior to military intervention lacks any mention of support for the nonviolent struggle of the threatened population.
Both military and nonviolent forms of power can be confronted with the dilemma of uncontrollable violence: situations where there is a need for protection and in which they fail to find any effective response.

Militarism at least has vast resources, in its own terms, whereas nonviolence is woefully underdeveloped. But in an already violent situation in which civilians and those who are attacking them are together in one place, third-party violence is hard to deploy protectively, even if its moral justification is accepted. Small experiments have been made in nonviolent protection, with correspondingly small but important and positive results – life-saving in many cases.¹⁶ With more resources, its praxis can and must be developed.

Nonviolent action is inclusive, drawing its strength from people’s participation and including the weak as well as the strong. It begins from a process of ‘conscientisation’ or awakening,¹⁷ both to the nature of what is happening and to the potential for collective action to change it. It expresses what should be at the heart of conflict transformation, putting local people at the heart of the action, framing third-party roles as secondary – a matter of solidarity rather than of ‘intervention’.

Nonviolent action to challenge domination and protect people against overt violence is at the dangerous interface between the two paradigms under discussion. Nonviolent activists, like soldiers, may risk their lives, but their aim is to break rather than add to the cycle of violence. What they do can demand great courage and, as with any other action taken in such circumstances, its outcome cannot be forecast. Intervening in violent situations is always dangerous, but when the present is full of violence, whether structural or direct, the risk may be one that some will choose to take.

I would suggest that effective peacekeeping (in the conventional sense) is possible only where there is some sort of peace in place, however fragile. In other situations it fails to prevent the continuation of war. If a ceasefire has been achieved and has popular support, the policing necessary should be possible without resort to lethal weapons. Unless police, like armies, are to become party to shoot-outs and risk a re-escalation of violence, their power comes very largely from the respect in which they are held, the consent of the majority in upholding their power, and their skill in defusing aggression and persuading miscreants to submit to their authority. Playing their role in this way will involve some risk, but so does engaging in shoot-outs, and there can be no doubt that there is greater readiness to shoot an armed person than an unarmed one. Moreover, such police roles can be complemented by the mobilisation of community support. These are models that must be developed.

No large-scale, well resourced and internationally supported nonviolent action force stands ready to take on such roles to protect and support local people. It may not seem feasible that it should. But is it more feasible – and is it desirable – for armies to quell the world? Are those who use their armies to pursue their own interests likely to pay for such vast capacities and not control them? Even if this could be done, it would leave populations disempowered and dependent on the decisions of remote powers and war would remain an affront to the fundamental norms of everyday life, requiring people to become killers and to expose themselves to trauma and violent death. Given that wealthy societies increasingly find the death of their soldiers shocking, those soldiers will increasingly be protected at the expense of civilians. And wars of whatever kind will continue to escalate in the face of unexpected opposition. Victory will never be guaranteed.

Agenda for the future

The language of security has been hijacked by militarism and is used to disguise the real nature of violence. Truly enlightened self-interest requires a different understanding of human security and wellbeing.

Security from being killed by lawless and violent people would come high on anyone’s list of personal security needs. So would food, shelter and freedom from disease, and a say in one’s own affairs. The perpetuation of resentment in those who are on the receiving end of dominatory power makes no-one secure. The greatest threat to the security of the majority of human beings lies in the eat-or-be eaten system, in which ‘the national interest’ is the avowed primary focus of ‘foreign’ policy (with true internationalism a long way off) and whole populations are subjected to levels of violence and deprivation that leave them at the mercy of the whims of others.

Fear is a powerful and basic instinct but it can produce some very counter-productive responses. We can never be more than relatively and temporarily secure, even those of us who live in the rich world.

Learning to live with our insecurity, creatively and caringly, will make far more of us infinitely safer than trying to control the uncontrollable. It may sound simplistic, but ‘making enemies friends’ is a better practical (let alone moral) strategy for most of us than trying to get the better of them. Even the mightiest military power on earth (at present) has repeatedly failed to crush those who oppose it. Human beings have thrived in spite of war, not because of it. Their sociability and capacity to care and cooperate constitute their greatest strength – and, to me at least, their beauty.

Changing gear

I am convinced, and wish to convince others, that if we are to have a greater impact in preventing and ending the misery of wars we must deconstruct war itself. Importantly and increasingly, many organisations in our field work to influence the policy of governments on specific conflicts and specific aspects of militarism. But the institution of war and all the assumptions that underlie it go largely unchallenged and remain deeply entrenched. To say the least, this seriously reduces our chances of making a strategic impact. Peace writ large will never come unless we begin to transform global systems and relationships.

At the same time there is continuity between the micro and the macro. Systems and cultures do not exist independently of people and their thinking, behaviour and choices. There is no macro peace without the micro. It is through the cumulative efforts of ordinary people that global change can come. We are already contributing to those efforts. Societies and systems can change and the night is certainly not devoid of stars.

The pool of people who have developed their thinking and skills in conflict transformation is now substantial in many parts of the world. Recognising and nurturing this already existing and growing potential is important in itself. Building on our growing knowledge will make us stronger and more effective. We have found in our work that it is possible to find commonality across societies and cultures, humane values that can be shared and translated into action in different ways but for similar goals. We need each other’s inspiration and support. We also need to know that we are part of a global movement: to transform the culture that condones and glorifies war, to dismantle its structures and build democracy in place of violence.

How can we make a gear-change in what we do, in order to become part of such a global movement and how can we contribute most effectively?

Getting serious about nonviolent action

First we can work intensively to develop our own understanding of nonviolent mobilisation to address violence of all kinds and to displace the toxic role of counter-violence. There is a substantial body of literature on nonviolent people power.¹⁸ We need to engage with it, bring it into the mainstream of our theory and enrich it with our own knowledge. We can infuse it with the inclusive and cooperative ethos of conflict resolution, which has much to do with Gandhian nonviolence but tends to be lost when nonviolence is understood simply in terms of technique.¹⁹ We can and must bridge the gap between confronting injustice and building peace.

It may be difficult at present for some of our organisations to associate themselves with nonviolent action for change – because it would compromise their perceived impartiality, because it would be risky and because their donors might not like it. If that is so, we have some important education work and advocacy to do, once we have educated ourselves. It is heartening to know that some nonviolent protection work already receives funding from mainstream donors. This will influence others.

Talking about war and its abolition

While we work to incorporate nonviolent power in our praxis we need also to hold an intensive conversation among ourselves and with related disciplines about the culture and institutions of war itself, taking a fresh look at the assumptions that justify it and at the cost of perpetuating it; opening ourselves, at least, to its radical rejection. We need to consider what we have learned about demilitarisation – disarmament, demobilisation and reintegration – that could be applied globally. The work we have done, conceptual and practical, must surely be of great relevance to the broader field of international relations. And we must familiarise ourselves with the work that is already being done to reduce the production and global flow of arms, achieve disarmament, resist the power of militarism and demilitarise minds and societies.²⁰

There are already many expert organisations and focussed campaigns that are addressing specific elements of militarism (nuclear weapons, the arms trade, arms control, non-military responses and so on). How can we help to build connections, conceptual and practical, in order to offer a more coherent and comprehensive response to the military system and to show how it can be moved into reverse and dismantled?

We need to identify allies among donors and in circles where policy is made. We need to open dialogue with other politicians, supporting as well as challenging and offering what we know to encourage and change them. We must cultivate for global leaders the kind of empathy and respect that we would expect to bring to armed groups. They too are capable of changing, and of making change possible.

President Obama has already brought within the realms of possibility the elimination of nuclear weapons, which not so long ago was hard to imagine, simply by stating his commitment to it.

Joining the peace movement

We may be academics and NGO workers but we are also citizens, sharing in the responsibility for the actions of our governments. We need to join with others to make our collective will both known and influential, against militarism and for real peacebuilding.

Getting immersed in popular movements (if we have not already done so) will give us useful first hand knowledge of how they work, so that when we think about people power elsewhere we will do so on the basis of some experience. We in turn will bring with us our knowledge of demilitarisation, which can inform campaigns. We can also bring the inspiration and information we have gained from our work in other places, helping to forge the emotional, conceptual and practical links that will make the global movement stronger and more grounded in universal values. Our understanding of communication and bridge building could help the peace movement at large to be less macho and adversarial in its campaigning and better at outreach and persuasion: hence more ‘congruent’ and more effective.

Movements are often riven by conflict and we can contribute our skills in dealing with them and building common ground, as well as any capacities we may have for organising and networking. A common focus on war as such, undergirding objections to particular wars or weapons, could help unify otherwise politically disparate tendencies. If we can deepen our own commitment to changing the culture of war’s acceptance and ridding the world of war itself, we can help to strengthen this deeper commitment within the wider peace movement. This would immeasurably improve its chances of coherence and make its purpose more worthwhile.

Shaping a common vision

Together we need to forge a common understanding of the positive peace we are working towards. Our vision must include economic justice, human rights, political participation and care for our planet – as well as the nonviolent processes and freedom from war that are vital to making these possible. We must establish among us, and seek to spread, an ethos of kindness.

With a broad vision of positive peace we will find natural allies in related movements – human rights activists, environmentalists and so on. We must deepen with them our understanding of the interdependence of our different endeavours and help each other in every way we can. Women’s movements around the world are already pulling these different aspects of positive peace together and provide an inspiring model for solidarity. They can take a lead in showing us how the apparently powerless can mobilise for change and how strength and care can be combined.

There can be no guarantee of our success. We cannot control outcomes but we can keep focussed and motivated, use our brains, intuition and emotions, responding to every opportunity and constantly adjusting our strategy. We can draw on our own sources of inspiration to renew our energy and nurture our commitment. Let this time of immense threat to humanity be our time of opportunity.

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