In The Middle: by Adam Curle The Practice of Mediation We have seen that would-be mediators have to pass through what might be termed as probationary period, unless of course they have been invited in by the protagonists. However, once they have gained a sufficient measure of acceptance, their work begins to take shape. Although it will obviously change and expand, following the contours of circumstances, it soon becomes possible to identify four aspects of mediation. These are interwoven and overlapping but distinguishable emphases of the unitary task of bringing together those who have been separated by violence.
By this I mean the mediators' own communications with both groups of protagonists and indeed other involved groups, and -- via the mediators -- between the protagonists themselves, the second being dependent on the first and both being essential to mediation.
There is obviously more to being a messenger than just carrying a message and delivering it like a postman. For one thing, it will often not be written down, but even if so, there is always much to say about the circumstances in which it was sent and the mood of the senders. In addition, it will probably need to be amplified and explained, ambiguities elucidated and so on. The first necessity, therefore, is that mediators should be accepted in this fairly active role (part of what I call active mediation, discussed below) and can in fact communicate with the leaders concerned; communicate in the sense of presenting material that they will listen to and understand and this in turn depends on both having reached a measure of mutual trust and liking. But this is somewhat more in the realm of befriending and will be discussed a little later -- for the present I will only repeat that these dimensions of mediation are often inextricably interconnected. The following incidents illustrate how mediators may attempt to serve as channels of communication between protagonists. One of the major conferences intended to resolve the Biafran crisis was sponsored in 1968 by the Organisation of African Unity in Addis Ababa under the formidable and remote chairmanship of the late Emperor Haile Selassie. (I had met him once in Ghana, a nobly dignified figure as he stepped from his plane in built-up boots and ostrich-feathered hat; but in a lounge suite resembling a lizard with a squeaky voice -- 'Bonjour, Monsieur' he fluted as we were introduced.) Three of us were waiting in the wings and, as usual, keeping in touch with both Nigerian and Biafran delegations. Soon it became obvious that things were not going at all well; both sides made angry statements of seemingly adamantine position; there was not debate, no give on either side. Everyone was tense and preoccupied; it was difficult to have a reasonable discussion with anyone. The Biafrans were grimly obdurate, pinning their hopes on massive military assistance from France, although they had lost all but three of their larger centres of population. The Nigerians, under the implacable Chief Enahoro, were buoyed up by the military successes and convinced that the Biafrans could not long continue organised resistance (in fact they did, for nearly eighteen months). There appeared no hope of compromise and we could see nothing but an indefinite continuation of Biafra's anguish. Then one evening we had a long talk with Eni Njoku, the chief Biafran delegate. We knew him well, having met him in different parts of Africa, in America and, in happier days, when he was vice-chancellor of the University of Nigeria at Nsukka. He was in a state of muted despair, saying that he had proposals that could break the deadlock, but which he could not make openly because they would appear, wrongly, to imply an abandonment of their position and a loss of nerve. Their only effect, therefore, would be to intensify Nigerian military pressure; the Federal Government would think they had got the Biafrans on the run, and hope they could achieve an all-out victory without any need to compromise. Whether or not Njoku was right about the possible reception of his proposals, they seemed to us to be reasonable and constructive. They proposed that Biafra (which would even be prepared to relinquish the controversial and inflammatory name) should be accepted as a part of a Nigerian Union. All they asked for in addition were two measure designed to secure the safety of the people, the great fear then being a repetition of the horrible massacres that had preceded the war. These were, firstly, that they should be allowed some sort of military force; secondly, that they should have a measure of international standing to ensure that any aggression against them would attract international attention and could not be dismissed as a purely 'internal affair'. The military force, Njoku said, could be little more than an armed constabulary, and international standing could be achieved by a seat on the board of one of the UN special agencies or of one of the regional organisations. But since Njoku felt he could not present these proposals without eliciting precisely the opposite effects to what he wished, he asked us to do so instead. There was no way in which we could present the proposals at the conference, at which we had no official standing, so we decided to return to Lagos. This involved flying up to Rome and then down to Nigeria. I remember the delight of a summer evening in Rome, where we strolled out for a good meal of pasta and a bottle of wine, sandwiched between the heavily steaming heat of Lagos and the wet thin air of the Ethiopian highland. Gowon was as friendly as ever when we presented, indeed argued, Njoku's case. He promised that the Biafran's ideas would be given consideration, and we left to return to America, where I was based. A little later we were told that there had been much discussion of the proposals, but that the hawks had won. They said that nothing new was offered, it was all a trick, a device to gain time. So that, for the time being, was that. But shortly after one of us met the Nigerian ambassador at the UN, who had not heard what had been going on. When he did, he was horrified that the Biafran proposals had been abandoned, maintaining that they did in fact constitute an important new initiative. He hurried back to Lagos to revive the debate. But by this time the military fortunes of the Biafrans had to some extent revived; they no longer wanted the sort of settlement that would have satisfied them when things were going badly. We had another comparable experience that illustrates the diversity of a mediator's life. Two of us agreed to transport $57,000 in cash (a formidable amount in 1968), which had been raised to help the centres which had been established for starving people driven by war from their homes in Biafra. It was a rather hectic journey -- as we spiralled down at night to the Uli air strip, a mere widened roadway, incessant flashes from the battle down below lit up the jungle, and the tracer curled up towards us. Half-way through our journey to deliver the money we had a meeting with Sylvanus Cookey, a trusted lieutenant of Ojukwu. He said the situation was desperate, the federal army was constantly advancing along the main roads (as we discovered, since we had to drive through the jungle to avoid the armoured cars); it was essential that we arrange a meeting to discuss a cease-fire as soon as possible. As quickly as we could, we flew on a Red Cross plane to what was then the Spanish island of Fernando Po and then to Cameroon. My friend went to Lagos to inform the Nigerian Government; I went to London to tell the commonwealth Secretariat and the British Government, then on to America. After a few days, however, our hopes were dashed once more. Ojukwu made a fire-eating speech saying that the Biafrans would never yield a square inch of their sacred territory. What did this mean, asked Gowon, who was quite ready to go ahead with the cease-fire; had they really changed their collective mind? The Quakers were asked to contact Biafran representatives in Europe to find out. But no one really knew. Soon, however, came an invitation to return to Biafra along with a number of Biafran representatives who had apparently questioned the wisdom of continuing the war. I did not go, but my two friends did. On arrival, they were kept incommunicado for five days before being subjected to a tirade by Louis Mbanefo, the Chief justice, and several others of the Biafran top brass. The main theme was that they would never surrender, and that we should let everyone know that they would accept no compromise. Finally they apologised for speaking so harshly, saying there was no one else to whom they could let off steam. And that, once more, was that. My friends returned puzzled. The reason soon became clear, however. General do Gaulle had come through with his hoped-for assistance and there had been a massive air-lift of arms from neighbouring Gabon, one of the four African states that had recognised Biafra. The Biafrans decided that, after all, they had a chance; they counter-attacked and recaptured Owerri. This made them bitterly regret the loss of nerve that had induced them to sue for peace. Their behaviour towards us was designed to demonstrate that they had not weakened in their resolve to fight. Of course some message carrying has some satisfactory but perhaps less interesting results. For example, we once transmitted a plea for a cease-fire which was agreed to immediately without the need for any discussion or argument. But the ultimate success of efforts to act as a channel of communication comes when the protagonists themselves take over, no longer needing the intervention of mediators.
This means attempting to be aware of facts needed to establish reasonable policies and so as not to be misled by rumour, misinformation or prejudice; peace and negotiation are jeopardised more by ignorance than by truth, however unpalatable. Providing information is, of course, also an aspect of communication, especially because the manner of transmission and the quality of the relationship determines whether it will be heard or understood.
Mediators are often in a good position to supply important information for the initiation of moves towards peace -- and for keeping them moving. Much of this information tends to be negative, refutations of statements made by each side about the other, such as the following: 'We want a negotiated settlement, but it's no good, because our enemies are set on a military solution'. Mediators moving between the sides may be able to provide evidence each side's interpretation of the other's interpretation of the other's intentions is faulty. But in fact, any remarks about the other side must be made with caution. Both, while not being so crass as to ask obviously military questions, will be eager to glean information of tactical or strategic relevance; mediators hoping to promote peace my unintentionally satisfy their curiosity. If, for example, they hope to prove the sincerity of peace feelers by mentioning the other side's low morale and fear of losing, the enemy might instead take it as an incentive to attack. But of course the opposite would also be true; if morale was high when the peace feeler was floated, it might be a reason to consider negotiation. However, every case is likely to be different and would need consideration on its own merits, and generally mediators do well to steer away from all military matters which are often subject, especially to the uninitiated, to contradictory interpretations. If, for example, mediators become aware that conscription is being introduced or extended it could imply either a determination to wage war more fiercely, or that losses were great and the bottom of the man-power barrel was being scraped. One other sort of dilemma over military matters is moral rather than pseudo-psychological. Mediators may, in their travels or conversations, learn of preparations for an offensive in a particular area where great loss of life will inevitably be sustained. Should they give any warning? I think probably not. Firstly, they may be wrong and so sacrifice their partiality for nothing. Secondly, even if they are right, the people to whom they give the facts would never again trust them as mediators -- they would have shown that they were informers. But again there are different scales of violence. Nuclear or some other catastrophic attack should no doubt be prevented by any means possible. Mediators are on clearer grounds in speaking of individual opinions. Most leaders, in attempting to evaluate the seriousness of peace proposals made by their opposite numbers, will want to know what various people have said about them, and mediators should be able to feel free to tell them as much as they know. They can give the context, possibly including the tone of voice and expression, in which comments reported in the media were made, and give details of happenings from personal experience of the often unavailable international press, which were relevant to the search for peace. In general, they can supply a full, objective and balanced account of crucial events rather than the frequently fragmentary details on which policies are precariously based. They can be useful in other respects. For example, during the Nigerian civil war, the Biafrans, until a colleague convinced them to the contrary, were dubious about accepting the Commonwealth Secretariat as a mediating body because, being based in London, they assumed it must share the pro-Federal Nigerian views of the British government. In this instance and that of the Zimbabwe war, in which one side lacked the advantages of a foreign ministry and full intelligence services, there was always the danger of fatally faulty judgements. Mediators, free to travel around the world, can often fill a gap in information needed to develop sound policies for settling a conflict.
This refers to the character of the relationship between mediators and those with whom they are dealing. They come essentially as friends drawn by concern for the suffering of all concerned in the struggle, including the mental anguish of those in power. They play a different part from that of civil servant, diplomat or consultant; they come in a spirit of goodwill to do whatever they can to help the victims of the conflict to escape from the trap of violence. To the extent that their unconditional goodwill is accepted, the relationship of the mediators with leaders and other responsible officials may somewhat diminish the psychological tensions and the possibility of compulsive and unconstructive action.
The first and most necessary step towards befriending harassed leaders (or anyone else, for that matter) is to think of them with respect and liking. But how is this possible when some of them may have a most unattractive reputation for, for example, cruelty and violence? I have struggled with myself before going to meet a leader whose forces have recently committed an act of great barbarity. I felt an impulse to assuage my own distress by accusing him, but knew that to do so would impair my usually good contact with him. But I also knew that simply suppressing my emotions was not enough; my feelings would affect him even if disguised. So I made an effort to calm myself, practising what I had been taught as a child -- count ten (in this case much more!) before speaking in anger. This helped me to realise what I had really know all along, that a general at the base could have little direct control of his troops on the front line. Beyond this, however, I realised -- and have realised in many other instances -- how people may be driven by circumstances, and that I had no cause to reprobate in others what I would have done or felt in their place. Speaking in general, I then move on to consider the positive things about the person concerned, warmth, courage, sincerity, and indeed about the basic strengths of human nature. Finally I know that s/he is someone just like myself, that we are both in our different ways, up against the same fundamental problems, needing each other's help, respect and compassion and only damaged by each other's contempt or anger. Understanding this, I break the shell of preoccupation with my own feeling and the equally cramping shell of preconception I had built around this person, crediting (or more properly discrediting!) her/him with unpleasing qualities that might not really exist and neglecting inner richness that might. It then becomes possible to do what is one of the bases of building a human relationship; to listen and give full attention to the person I have come to see. Once we consciously try to do this, we realise how little we usually hear and give. We may hear the words our friend speaks but we do not reflect on or remember them for more than a very short while. But when the mind is relatively clear and uncluttered by distracting preoccupations, we are free to devote a much higher proportion of our attention to another. This means to be really aware of her/him; it means to open ourselves, to make ourselves available, in a sense to embrace. This is always felt by the other as somehow reassuring and encouraging, but only to the extent that it is done with genuine sincerity. The listening element of attention giving is crucial. Everyone know that listening, not necessarily profoundly but just letting people talk, is helpful to anyone in trouble. But to listen with real attention often, and unexpectedly , help them to gain real insight into themselves. Although this type of listening requires effort, it is different from the effort needed to hear a very quiet speaker. The effort is to maintain attention, to cut the distractions from one's own mind, and to open the hearing wide to include not only the words but the tone in which they are spoken and all other sounds within earshot. I would not claim this approach to befriending will lead always to an intimate relationship, rather to one of confidence and goodwill in which there is also a measure of warm feelings. Since mediators, though deeply involved in the total situation, are separate from the quarrels, rivalries, clan and tribal antipathies and jealousies that often surface in time of stress, they may be able to provide some respite and relaxation from tension. This relaxation of the pressure of strain, of the threatened ego's quest for self-justification, tends to release the inherent capacity for sound and compassionate judgement upon which depend wise and humane decisions. In conclusion I should explain, and perhaps excuse, the somewhat personal manner in which befriending has been discussed. I have done so because befriending another human being is a particularly individual matter. I have not pretended to give a prescription for what ought to be done, only an example of what one individual has found helpful.
I have coined this term to describe (inadequately) what might be thought of as the more specifically diplomatic activity of mediators. It is not their job, of course, to attempt persuasion or to promote particular approaches to the resolution of a conflict. On the other hand, they do not just passively and personally impart information and pass messages; they are not civil servants whose job it is to ensure that their political masters are aware of all the facts necessary for them to decide on wise policies, but who have no part in those decisions. Mediators, of course, attempt to do these things, but they do so with a specific purpose: to remove obstacles on the path to peace, and they argue strongly against the misunderstanding and preconceptions that strengthen those obstacles. In order to illustrate this aspect of mediation, and also to a considerable extent the three others that have already been discussed, I have transcribed and suitably edited and modified to make identification impossible even by those concerned, since I have change sequences, combined situations and fictionalised some details, a number of discussions between a head of state, prime minister or other high official, or a guerrilla leader (P) and a mediator or mediators (M). Discussion M. I have just been to the other side, where I had a long talk with the head of the military government, General X. P. What did he say? M. He said he hoped it would be possible to find a way of bring the war to an end. P. What a hypocrite! If he really hopes that, why does he go on bombing our cities; why has he launched a new offensive in the East? M. He doesn't really strike me as a hypocrite. In fact I felt he was a decent and honest man. P. (grunts) M. What he says is that he can't negotiate from a position of military inferiority and so has to keep up the pressure. P. (speechifying somewhat) I will never yield to pressure. We will continue the battle until victory is achieved. M. Yes, of course. But I'm given to understand that both you and he would prefer a settlement to a fight to the finish. That could only do untold damage to both your countries and cause untold suffering to your people. P. Well, yes. But what can I do if he pursues this course of brutal aggression except hit him back harder to make him think again? M. Unfortunately he then feel he has to hit you harder still to make you think again. So we get a vicious spiral of escalation. P. You seem to be suggesting the I am responsible for the increasing violence. I rather resent that. I've told you often enough that I'm seeking every possible way towards a just settlement. M. Please don't misunderstand me; I know you are. But I also think General X is too. The trouble is that war is a trap. Once it closes its very hard to get out. As I see it, both you and X are caught. What is sad is that when people get caught, their efforts to escape, like escalating the level violence so as to be able to negotiate from strength, only trap them more firmly. P. I suppose I have to admit that. M. And there's a sort of psychological violence which makes extrication even harder. The longer this process goes one, the greater the reciprocal hatred and suspicion; the more both sides reject peace feelers as tricks. P. All right. But it doesn't help just to be told I'm in a trap; if it's true, how the hell do I get out of it? M. Well, General X several times said that he didn't think you were sincere when you spoke of wanting peace, just as you don't think he's sincere to talk about peace at the same time as he bombs your towns. So the first thing is to do something to demonstrate your sincerity. P. Such as what? M. Probably the most convincing thing would be something you have refused to do in the past or for some reason clearly don't want to do. P. You mean something that would put me at a disadvantage. M. Yes, that's the whole point. If it did, it would prove your sincerity. P. Or my weakness or stupidity. M. That could be avoided. It would depend on what was done, how it was done, and how it was presented to the other side. P. Could you help? M. Yes, of course, I would be glad to go over to see General X and explain, but of course it would be up to you to decide what to do -- an exchange of wounded prisoners, opening up a corridor for relief trucks to the enclave, inviting Amnesty International to inspect your POW camps, no more bombing of civilian targets -- something like that. P. That's possible, I suppose, but I can't see that any move towards peace might not be seen as a sign of weakness. I've got him on the run, X would think, so I'll hit him harder and push him further. M. That could be a risk, but I don't think a big one. My sense of it is that he would be relieved and so would most of his cabinet except perhaps Y, who doesn't seem to be as powerful as he was. However, you could demonstrate both your sincerity and your strength by letting it be known that while offering a cease fire or whatever, you were also preparing to take very tough measures if X didn't reciprocate, or tried to take advantage of you. P. But I still don't see why it has to be me to take the first step. M. In fact it doesn't. I had a somewhat similar conversation with General X who said more or less the same things as you. So he might come up with a proposal any day. But this sort of thing is hard to synchronise; in practice someone has to set the ball rolling. P. I still think it would give an impression of weakness. M. I really doubt it, especially if you took the precaution we have considered. But I would look at it in the opposite way. To take some risk for the sake of peace would seem to me a sign of strength, of the courage to take a chance. P. So you admit there could be a risk? M. Oh, yes, of course; everything you do in war is risky -- including doing nothing or making the automatic conventional response. But it's really a question of the odds. In this case you might lose a little if things went wrong. But if things went right you might gain peace. So it could be a worthwhile gamble. P. It might be. P. I hear you have been talking to the Prime Minister A. I would be interested to know what you make of him. M. Well, he's obviously a very shrewd man, very realistic, I thought. P. I only know him from his speeches and other statements, and of course from what he does -- his unbridled attack on my country and his obvious hatred of me and my people. You might as well call Hitler shrewd and realistic. M. (laughs) That's going a bit far, I think. As for his speeches, however, you know the sort of thing a war leader is expected to say, all blood and glory and victory over our bestial enemies, that sort of thing. If I may say so without offence, you are pretty good at it yourself. And on that evidence, A has formed the same sort of opinion about you as you have of him. P. Absurd. Everybody knows I hate war and wish for nothing personally but to live in peace with my wife and children. M. In fact, so does A. He has a lovely family and I even had super with his mother, a sweet old lady. P. Of course I knew he was married, but I assumed it was one those formal arrangements. M. Far from it. P. But in a way that makes me see him in an even worse light. I simply can't understand how a man who loves his family can commit such atrocities, wiping out hundreds of other loving families. It doesn't hang together, somehow. M now finds himself in a dilemma, he is half tempted to tell P that A has made the same comment about him but fear there might be an explosion of rage from the affronted ego that will blow their relationship to pieces. So he decides on a safer course at present, but hopes that some day he may be able to drive home the mirror image lesson that in almost every bad aspect P and A view each other in a similar way. M. Well, the exigencies of war force everyone to do things they never expected to do. I'm sure you and A, when you took office, never imagined the sorts of expediencies to which you have been driven. P. Yes. That's so, but of course he, as the aggressor, must bear the whole responsibility for what has happened since. M swiftly considers whether to raise the philosophical issue of who is and who is not the aggressor. It was true (perhaps) that A's forces fired the first shots. But was not the provocation by P's people that led to the attack, and earlier act of aggression? And why had they offered this provocation? Surely it was because… and so on to the dawn of history or, to a fundamentalist Christian, the incident in the garden of Eden that started all the trouble. If so, it would seem in many cases to be senseless to talk of one party as being the guilty one; both are bound together by the same chain of causation. However, the rulers of nations at war demand that their foe be labelled 'aggressor', and themselves the innocent victims of aggression. Once again M doesn't feel it wise to make a frontal attack on this facet of P's ego. On the other hand, the way forward to negotiations is seriously blocked if the protagonists see each as implacably hostile and negative. But perhaps something else could be said toe weaken P's fixed idea of A as a conniving, evil and violent sub-human. M. Yes. But I think it's worth remembering that he inherited a very difficult situation. The combination of domestic and international pressures pushed him inexorably towards war. P. You're making excuses for him. M. No, I'm not -- oh, I suppose in away I am. But I think public figures can't always be held completely responsible for their actions. A leader's decision -- but you know this much better than me -- is usually the end point of much discussion and many compromises. But he is the one who carries the can and he's the one with whom one has to deal. So it's a good thing to know what he's like, that he's not an entirely self-sufficient, self-existent force, but a pretty able human being having some decent impulses, trying to make sense out of the conflicting demands on him and to do what appears to be the best possible thing in the circumstances. P. You're not trying to make me like him, are you? M. No. But I'm suggesting that it would be a good thing to keep an open mind about him, not to reject the idea that he could be a more reasonable person to deal with than you seem to think. P. (grunts sceptically) M. Anyway, the fact remains that unless you go on battering each other to pieces, you will eventually have to get together and sort out the terms of a settlement. Its your shared problem and you somehow have to solve it together. P. You have several times talked about my having dealings with my enemies, or even having a relationship with them. M. Yes. P. The only way I want to deal with them is by beating the hell out of them till they want to cry quits, and the only relationships I intend to have is to dictate my terms to them. I don't want any of this lovey-dovey crap. M. I know you feel very bitter about what they have done, but when I talk about relationships I don't mean something you should try to establish. I mean that, like it or not, it's something that exists. It's a fact. You are both locked into a relationship, a very bad one certainly, because you are both involved in the same problem. In fact you are involved in it so much and it so difficult that you have gone to war over it. But war is a relationship. It's just as much a relationship as when you were arguing about it at the UN and had a political relationship, exchanging ambassadors and so on, with them. P. So what. I don't see where this twaddle is getting us. M. Sorry if I'm irritating you. I'm just suggesting that this whole disastrous situation exists because of a common problem that relates you to each other. I don't see how you can solve it except through the relationship which exists de facto. In some way you have to find out how to cooperate. P. Are you crazy. Me cooperate with this bastard W? No, I'll beat his rotten army to pulp and then hang him. That'll solve the problem. M. If you say so. But I understood when we first talked that you were interested in mediation because you felt that to go for a purely military solution would be too costly. Also that it wouldn't actually be a solution, because you would still be left with a sullen and rebellious population who would continue the conflict by other means and eventually, perhaps, by another armed struggle. I am simply suggesting that if you want to resolve the conflict in a way that sticks, you will have to do it somehow in conjunction with W. But if you do intend to settle the whole business by crushing them militarily, you don't need a mediator. So just tell me and I'll leave. P. OK, OK. Now assuming you are right, what's the next step? M. To start with you could send him a message through me; I expect to see him next month. P. Right. Just tell him to get lost. M. (laughs) If he did you would have to deal with Z who is even more difficult. P. Seriously, I'm not sure what I want to convey to him. I have told him often enough that I'll talk, but he hasn't responded, except to repeat his absurd proposals. M. It must be an irritating deadlock for you. P. It certainly is. But how the devil to break it? M. It seems to me that these rather formal public announcements often don't fully represent a government's position; they are made for other reasons than just negotiation. They are intended to satisfy the opposition in one's own country and to encourage wavering supporters, to impress the world with one's determination, and so on. But usually behind the rhetoric there is some scope for flexibility. P. Quite right. There are one or two points on which we could bend a little. But how can we present them without losing face, giving the impression of climbing down? M. They don't have to be made officially. We could deliver a spoken message that couldn't be used against you because you could dissociate yourself from it if necessary. If you agree, we could possibly suggest, on our own account perhaps, that you might be prepared to relax your stand on some issues. We could add that you would only be ready to do so if they were prepared to reciprocate, a sort of tit-for-tat arrangement. P. Do you have any ideas on where I should be prepared to bend? M. No, we don't. We can't suggest what is best for your country, only how to remove obstacles to achieving it. P. That makes sense. M. We would hope that this might mark the beginning of a process that really might end in fruitful cooperation. P. And I suppose this relationship you're so keen on. P. This business about the island is getting very worrying. M. It must be. Do you think Exia really intends to invade? P. I'm afraid it really looks likely. I've reinforced the local garrison. But the way President F is talking, that probably won't deter them. And that means war; God know where it will stop. M. Is there no alternative? P. I don't think so. We obviously can't yield on any issue affecting our territorial integrity; that's a matter of essential national principle. M. I'm a bit cautious about statements like that. In their book, Getting to Yes, Fisher, who is a friend of mine and Ury say it's important to keep position, roughly what you refer to as principle, separate from interest, and to emphasise interest. P. I don't see what you are getting at. My ancestors annexed the Island three centuries ago. It's obviously part of our interest to keep control of it and maintain our dominion intact. M. Is it, though? Everyone acknowledges it has no strategic or economic value. The people are linguistically and culturally closer to Exia than to you, and have been a constant headache to your governments from the beginning. One could argue that it would actually be in the national interest to get rid of this worthless Island and its unruly inhabitants; that the principle of hanging on to it is not in your interest. P. That's absurd. If I were to tamely let go of the Island, my government would fall and the Xians and every other potential aggressor in the region would think they could bully and blackmail us. M. Yes. I see that. But what you are saying is that you are hanging on to a position or principle less because of the advantage it brings or interest it serves, than because of disadvantages to your vital interests that might follow from discarding it. P. (reluctantly) There may be something in that. M. Please don't be offended if I take the argument a little farther. If, at this juncture, you stick to your principle of territorial sovereignty and are forced into war, others of your interests will undoubtedly suffer. The economy will certainly be harmed, many of your young men will be maimed or killed -- how many lives, I wonder, is it proper to sacrifice for a principle -- and above all there is a chance that you might lose the war, one or other of your must; then everything would be lost -- the Island, the young men who fought in vain, the good repute of your administration; nothing would survive but the principle that brought such disaster. P. You are certainly frank. My predecessors would have had you shot for talking like that. But it sickens me, too, when I remember what might happen to our boys. What can I do, though? We are trapped in a situation where I can't see any way of avoiding war, that is, if the Exians go on with this mad venture. M. Well, I'm not sure they want to. I have an idea that President F may feel as trapped as you do. Suppose he has been whipping up feelings about the Island for domestic political purposes and is horrified to realise that he has let himself in for now that he has roused the tiger of militaristic chauvinism. P. (sarcastically) My heart bleeds for the poor fellow. M. I hope to be able to find out more about it next week when I go to Exia. Anyway, if I'm right that he would like a let-out, a bit of quiet diplomacy might provide you both with an honourable solution to what may be a joint problem. I mean one which would bring you credit for restraint and wisdom, while also avoiding all dangers of abandoning principles without safeguarding interests. P. What sort of solution are you talking about? M. The details would be up to you. However, if you both decide to modify or withdraw from an inflexible position -- his being that he must have the Island, yours being that he mustn't -- and instead consider your common interests -- avoiding the ravages of war -- it shouldn't be too difficult to find one. For example, you might, on the accepted and respected principle -- P. Ha! I thought you rejected principles. M. (laughs) Not in every case -- of self-determination, offer to hand over the Island to UN trusteeship; or lease it to Exia for so many years, after which a referendum would decide whether it returned to your rule, or to the Exians, or became independent. P. But the population is not more than ten thousand. M. The same in some of the South Pacific nations. But the point I'm making is that this type of solution would have the great advantage for you of avoiding confrontation without giving in to Exia, and at the same time of making a generous, and altruistic international gesture that would be widely appreciated. And for President F it would have the advantage of changing the status of the Island in a way that would satisfy his most carping critics, without war. And I'm sure the regional organisation would be greatly relieved and do whatever possible to help. P. I still wonder how many people would respond to what the opposition would certainly represent as a betrayal. M. Surely with relief. They don't really want war, do they? P. (shakes his head). M. The other side have suggested that it might be a helpful move to have a temporary cease-fire in the southern sector. P. Why? M. It might reduce tensions to a point where negotiations seemed possible. P. But they know, the world knows, that we are ready to negotiate at any time. M. I'm afraid they don't believe this. P. Why? Didn't I say so at the General Assembly only three weeks ago? M. Yes, indeed. However, in the rather tense atmosphere of war, what people say counts for much less than what they do. In fact you may remember that their leader made a very similar statement. P. Oh, him. No one believes a word he says. M. Forgive me, but that is what he said about you. P. (sputters angrily) M. But you see that the fact that you both dislike and mistrust each other makes it necessary, if you are really interested in a negotiated peace, that you make some practical demonstration of good faith. P. Very well, let them cease their aggression in the southern sector and we will follow suit. M. That would be as unacceptable to them as it would be to you. You would both fear that the other would take advantage of you. P. Yes, I suppose so. If there were to be a cease-fire it would have to be simultaneous and bilateral. But I must say, the whole idea doesn't attract me. M. Why? P. How would I know they wouldn't use the opportunity to consolidate their positions, and to bring up more troops and supplies? M. It's possible, but there might be a way of avoiding that danger. P. What do you mean? M. To bring in a third-party monitoring force -- the UN, the Commonwealth, the OAU, for example. P. Oh, no. My cabinet wouldn't permit any internationalisation of the conflict. M. I'm afraid that if you took that line, the other side would assume you simply intended to use the cease-fire to gain the advantage you fear they would seek. In that case, if they hadn't already started, they would certainly strengthen their positions and reinforce their troops. The cease-fire would be something of a farce, unstable and temporary. P. So the whole idea is no good. M. No, no. If you really hope to reach a negotiated settlement as soon as possible, the other side's proposal for a cease-fire is a good one. If honestly put into force it would provide a cooling-off period during which bloodshed was greatly reduced -- and the more the killing the more the unreason for the war fever -- and preparations for negotiations pursued. P. but suppose the whole thing is a trick? Suppose they are just making what seems like an attractive offer hoping I'll either reject it, in which case they win a propaganda point, or I accept it, in which case they use it as I have suggested. I just don't trust them. M. In our opinion they made the offer in good faith, and we believe that if you turned it down you would lose and opportunity that might not recur for a long time. But of course you would be right to take whatever steps you felt necessary to preserve the cease-fire intact. P. You mean the monitoring arrangement? M. Yes. P. How would it be worked? M. I don't know much about that sort of thing except that it is done, but I could put you in touch with people who do. P. I find it very puzzling. You say that Q wants to edge towards negotiation, but if so, why doesn't he make some sort of answer to the terms I have suggested? I don't expect him to agree to all of them, at least not right away. But complete silence seems to me tantamount to rejection. M. It could be interpreted that way, but President B told us only last week that he couldn't find a satisfactory way to answer. Several of his advisers told me the same story independently -- we don't believe they were all having us on. P. But why? What's so difficult? M. They said your proposals were so unresponsive to what they were demanding that there was nothing to be said. One of them, Q himself I think, put it like this. Suppose a man is sick with pneumonia and you give him a sulpha drug, then you are at least responding, even though a bit inadequately, to his needs: he may be able to persuade you that an antibiotic is more affective medicine. But if you give him an aspirin, well, that has nothing to do with pneumonia at all and shows you have no understanding of his illness whatsoever. P. I can't believe my proposals were so irrelevant. I really can't understand what Q is up to. If he doesn't like my offer, which I personally think is generous, why doesn't he say so, and state his terms clearly. Then we could get down to business. M. There are perhaps two things here. They say that they have always made it quite clear what they were fighting for; they have done so in general terms of principle using such words as sovereignty and autonomy. However, they are scared of expressing the general in terms of the specific -- frontier demarcations, relations within the regional economic organisation -- things like that. P. Why be scared of that? M. They have told me, and asked me to convey to you, that they are not pressing for all the territory you have assumed they claim; they would not expect the autonomy of the northern islands. But they don't want to make this public until a settlement is in sight as their people might feel short-changed -- but if a reasonable agreement were in the offing they would feel satisfied. P. I think it's all very muddled and confusing. I don't see what I can do. M. What they would like you to do is to come up with a whole new set of proposals, something they could feel was more like the sulpha drugs or even, preferably, penicillin. P. They must realise that would be politically impossible, out of the question. And that's why I think Q keeps stalling on negotiations, making ridiculous excuses. I'm convinced, and my intelligence people have some evidence, that they are going to go for the military solution, which means that I shall have to also. M. We agree that it's very confusing. If we were you, we would probably draw the same conclusions. But knowing President Q and a lot of his people we find it hard to disbelieve them completely. They say they are also confused. They say they can't understand why, if you want to negotiate, you don't make an offer you can both negotiate and haggle over. That makes them think that you intend to go for a military solution. P. But they haven' go the slightest evidence that could suggest that. M. Once the suspicion is there, very little evidence is needed by them or by you. Any tough speech, any troop movements, any arms purchases, provides proof. P. Then what's to be done? M. We think Q is mistaken not to present terms, but we gather his difficulties are compounded by a disunited cabinet. Anyhow, we can urge him to make some response. It might be helpful if you could send a message. P. I'll think about it. M. We don't necessarily mean a direct message, but a statement in a speech, preferably one of which I could warn them in advance, saying something less implacable than usual. You might hint, for example, that you would welcome talks if they would respond to your overtures. P. I'll think about it. P. I really don't understand you people. You say you don't get any profit from all this travelling around which must often be tiresome and difficult. Why do you do it? M. (expressing views which are by no means necessarily shared by all mediators but which illustrate the beliefs and motivations that affect some of them) We feel very strongly over all the suffering brought about by violence -- the destruction of lives and homes and the mental anguish of everyone involved, especially those who, like you, carry such awesome responsibilities. P. Do you think it's wrong to use violence? What else could we have done in our circumstances? M. Yes, we do feel war is wrong, but the world being as it is , it's impossible to blame people for resorting to it. What we would hope to do is to help them discover a way of disentangling themselves from it, to find an alternative way of settling their differences. P. Do you mean war is against the will of God, or something like that? M. I personally don't argue that way; it would seem to imply that people who seek peaceful solution are somehow morally superior to those who don't. But I believe we resort to violence, all of us in one way or another, because we have a faulty view of human nature. P. How? M. We feel we are self-sufficient and independent entities, but we aren't. Everything we do and think is the product of forces -- other persons, history -- acting on us. And everything we do and think is comparable force affecting other people and events. Like sub-atomic particles in a field of force, we are part of system, elements that are constantly interacting and being affected by each other with inherently unpredictable outcomes. P. I can see that. But what has it to do with war and violence. M. This. If we think of human beings, ourselves, as separate entities, we essentially feel we can order our affairs without reference to others, hence the obsession with our own interest, with what is right for me. We expand this principle to the groups we belong to, or through which we operate, the family, the state, whatever. Basically, although the superficial causes of wars vary enormously, the underlying causes derive from this principle. One nation or group attacks another because it feels that its interest will be served thereby, or that if it does not they will be harmed; or for the same reasons it behaves in such a way, oppressively for example, that causes other to attack it. What both sides fail to realise is that hardly ever, except perhaps sometimes briefly, do they get from war what they hope to achieve. P. If I really thought that I'd have to resign, wouldn't I? M. Well, what I believe we all have to do, whoever we are, is to realise that we aren't isolated. We do something, which may be on a vast scale like declaring war, or on a minute one like leaving an unrewarding job, believing that these are isolated actions which will change one aspect of life thus eradicating a nagging problem without which everything else will be fine. But nothing will ever be the same again. The war will create new problems, the unrewarding job will be followed by the misery of unemployment. P. That's a very pessimistic view; what's the point of doing anything? M. It's this. If we fully realise how intimately we are all connected, even with our greatest enemies, and see that our fates are bound together, we can look for way of solving our problems together. But if we think of ourselves as lonely entities struggling with what we feel to be an alien and malign force, things get more and more out of control; they go from bad to worse. P. You mean that if we act as though humanity is one and don't just concentrate on one small piece of it, the world will be a better place? M. Precisely. That's why I'm against violent solutions. P. But I don't see how it helps me to find a peaceful way out of our present violent conflict. M. I don't either, but let me say this: most of your difficulties with R come from you deep distrust of each other. When you feel like that you (I mean both of you, naturally) see insurmountable snags to every possible solution. But if you could somehow feel differently about him…. P. Please don't preach to me about loving him. M. I wouldn't dream of it. I would say however that people in these situations of war come to see each other somewhat unrealistically. All I would hope is that they come to see each other realistically instead. They are bound to each other by the closest ties except love -- they are trying to kill each other. It is only by working together that they can both escape from this awful symbiosis. They may of course find this very hard unless they also remember that they are linked by their common humanity, which joins them at a more fundamental level than that which separates them. P. Well, I don't know about all that. You make it sound very metaphysical. M. I'm sorry. I'm really trying to say something very practical. You and R, as I know well, both feel the same about extricating your countries honourably from this struggle in which you are hurting each other so badly. If you can realise that you have the same objective, you will find it easier to cooperate to reach it -- which you will have to do some day if you are not to annihilate each other. I believe that rather than a frantic search for peace formulae what is needed is a changed attitude towards each other. Develop that and the practical issues will easily be settled. M. I've just come back from a visit to the other side. P. I would be interested to hear about it. M. The experience which is most on my mind was very distressing. I was taken to market-place where 128 women and babies had been killed by a single bomb, cut to pieces. P. I find that deeply distressing too. After all, although they are rebels I feel they are my people and I grieve at their death. The only thing I can say is that such ghastly events will teach them a lesson that may lead to the end of the war. M. What lesson? P. That rebellion doesn't pay, it leads to tragedy. M. And...? P. Well, they should lay down their arms. M. Please forgive me for contradicting you, but the effect of this bombing is quite the opposite. What they say is that it proves everything their propaganda has been saying about genocide... P. (interrupting) But they can't believe that one isolated and most unfortunate incident, probably cause by the pilot's lack of experience, is proof of something so unthinkable. M. But they do. I think if I may say so, that it is very hard for anyone who hasn't been there to imagine the desperation of a beleaguered people. They see the threat of malevolence everywhere. So what they are saying is this: we now see that he means to kill us all, why else should he destroy women and children who have nothing to do with the war? We might as well go on fighting rather than just wait to be butchered; and who knows, there may always be a miracle. P. (distressed) But I have made countless broadcasts saying that as soon as they surrender there will a complete amnesty for everyone, that there is nothing to fear. M. I know, but in these situations actions speak louder than words. P. (looks very sad, but says nothing) M. That's the awful thing about war. Once it begins, horrible things happen. Everyone is guilty and, in another sense, nobody. P. We were very disappointed at the failure of the peace conference. M. Why do you think it was unsuccessful? P. They just shouted slogans at us, refused to discuss our proposals sensibly. There wan no negotiation at all. We did our best and are very discouraged; we don't see the way forward at all. M. Perhaps it was the wrong sort of meeting. P. Well, what would you suggest? M. It may have been too public. They were not only shouting these slogans at your people, but at their own people and the world's press. They may have felt, in fact they told us, that it wasn't an atmosphere in which they felt they could discuss complicated details and so felt all they could do was to state their case as clearly and firmly as they could. P. And in consequence foolishly lose a chance of ending this wretched business. M. I think we have to take into account the state of their internal affairs. As you know, they depend on the collaboration of the opposition to hold things together and the opposition are if anything more extreme than the government. I'm convinced that the government really do want a settlement but are afraid that a long-drawn-out negotiation, in which inevitably there is some accommodation on both sides, could make things very difficult for them at home. P. So the whole thing was a farce? M. Not exactly. They made their point as toughly as they could, which was useful domestically, and there was just a chance that something more might have come out of it. P. I don't see how. M. Nor do I, but people tend to hope for miracles. P. You may be right about all this, but I don't see how it helps us to move forward. I don't propose to set up more conferences just to improve their home standing. What else can we do? M. When the dust has settled a bit, it might be worthwhile having another meeting, but a quite different sort of meeting. P. What sort? M. An entirely secret and unpublicised one -- tightest security, no press, no communiquŽs. P. I don't see how this could be done. Surely everyone would be aware of a bevy of leading figures converging on some spot. M. I'm not saying it would be easy, but I was going to suggest that in the first place the participants might be second-level people, the senior officials rather than the ministers, who might not be so noticeable. And they might be better from another angle, they might not feel so pressed to make political points and so be better able to get on with the nitty-gritty business of detailed negotiations. P. Yes, that's right. Also I might add rather cynically that if they make a real cock-up of things, the top leadership will be less closely implicated. Yes, I like it. Could you help? M. Perhaps. We might be able to arrange a meeting of this sort, but one at a higher level and on a larger scale would be beyond the resources of a non-official organisation. P. That would, I hope, come later, after this get-together had cleared away some of the obstacles. M. Yes. the trouble about the last meeting was that there was really no preparation; you just jumped into the main issues before you were ready or had the minimum of mutual understanding. P. Then there is the question of who should chair the meeting, or indeed whether we would need a chairman. M. I think it would be a good thing. Obviously it can't be anyone involved in the conflict; that would inevitably suggest bias, but I think it would be important to have someone respected by both parties who could keep a constructive and organised discussion moving and prevent it from degenerating into a slanging match or getting bogged down in irrelevancy. P. I agree. Who could we get? M. Perhaps someone like the president of the Regional UN Organisation? P. Not him; he's known to sympathise with them. What about one of you? M. We could perhaps find someone whom we could then suggest to you for approval. P. Fine. So could you go ahead with arrangements? M. Gladly. First of all, of course, I shall have to go over to the other side and put the idea to them. M. When I talked with Colonel F last week it seemed to me that there was very little separating your position from his. P. That's surprising. How so? M. He says that now the only real issue between him and you is the G --corridor and that if you would agree to internationalise it, place it under a UN mandate perhaps, he would give up his claim to it, and of course withdraw his troops. P. (angrily) His claim? Ridiculous. it's our territory. M. Well, as you know, of course, F claims it too, and this would seem a suitable compromise. After all, it's only a few square kilometres of semi-desert inhabited seasonally by a handful of nomads. Infinitely more people would die if both sides continue struggling to occupy it. P. It's a matter of national honour, something about which we will never compromise. I'm sorry that you've been influenced by their propaganda. I had counted on you to see the justice of our cause, or at least be impartial. M realises that he has stepped out of the mediator's role by make a policy suggestion, especially one favouring the enemy's proposal. If he had been asked, it would have been legitimate for him to give his opinion that the saving of life would have been well worth the loss of control over a small area of no strategic or economic importance. As it is, he can only apologise. M. I'm sorry. But you know we only work out of concern for the suffering cause by conflict and sometimes fail to take proper account of national policy and aspirations. But we are always glad to be put right. And I can assure you that what I just said wasn't influenced by anything Colonel F told me; it was my own bad idea. P nods forgiveness, which is lucky for M, who had really spoken out of turn. Nevertheless, M had a valid point. Here was a suggestion for a compromise which, face, a national pride and ego apart, was perfectly reasonable. It would save precious lives and much misery, no valuable territory would be lost, while the few nomads, if they cared at all under who national sovereignty they lived, would probably be better off. But this approach should have been more cautious, gradual and indirect. He should have tried to steer the discussion so that began to talk about F's suggestion. M could have set the stage for a more reflective and objective assessment of it by praising, and with some reason, P's realism, humanity and care for his people; not because P is susceptible to flattery but because, like many leaders, he is tense, needs reassurance as to his worth and is apt, in this state, to react in an angry and extreme way. M should then try to start a more relaxed and general conversation in which P might say for himself what he rejected when told by someone else.
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