Democracy and Deep Rooted Conflict Full English PDF

Democracy and Deep-Rooted
Conflict: Options for Negotiators

Democracy and Deep-Rooted Conflict:
Options for Negotiators
Editors:
Peter Harris and Ben Reilly
With a Foreword by
Kofi A. Annan
Contributors:
Mark Anstey, Christopher Bennett, David Bloomfield,
K. M. de Silva, Nomboniso Gasa, Yash Ghai, Peter Harris,
Luc Huyse, Rasma Karklins, Michael Lund, Charles Nupen,
David M. Olson, Anthony J. Regan, Ben Reilly,
Andrew Reynolds, Carlos Santiso and Timothy D. Sisk
Handbook Series
1 9 9 8
Handbook Series 3. The International IDEA Handbook Series aims to present
information on a range of democratic institutions, procedures and issues in an
easy-to-use handbook format. Handbooks are primarily aimed at policy-makers
and practitioners in the field.
This is an International IDEA publication. International IDEA’s publications
are not a reflection of any specific national or political interest. Views
expressed in this publication do not necessarily represent the views of
International IDEA, its Board or its Council Members. Countries are referred
to by the names that were in official use at the time the relevant data were
collected. Maps represented in this publication do not imply on the part of
International IDEA any judgement on the legal status of any territory or the
endorsement of such boundaries, nor does the placement or size of any
country or territory reflect a political view of the Institute. Maps have been
created for this publication in order to add clarity to the text.
Copyright © International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance,
(International IDEA)1998. All rights reserved.
Application for permission to reproduce or translate all or any part of this
publication should be made to:
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International IDEA encourages dissemination of its work and will promptly
respond to requests.
Publication Editor: Salma Hasan Ali
AD & Design: Eduard Œehovin, Ljubljana; Pre-press: Studio Signum, Ljubljana
Publication Manager: Lee Woodyear
Publication Assistant: Jaklina Strand
Printed by Korotan Ljubljana d.o.o., Ljubljana 1998.
ISSN: 1402-6759
ISBN: 91-89098-22-6
Preface
Most of today’s violent conflicts are not the wars between

contending states of former years, but take place within existing
states. Many are inextricably bound up with concepts of identity,
nation and nationalism, and many stem from the competition
for resources, recognition and power. While these conflicts may
appear very differently from place to place, they often have, at
their base, similar issues of unmet needs, and of the
necessity to accommodate the interests of majorities and
minorities alike.
Despite the many excellent studies on how to build peace in
divided societies, there remains a dearth of practical advice for
policy-makers on how to design and implement democratic
levers that can make peace endure. Conflict is a normal part of
any healthy society, but a great deal of attention has been
focused in recent years on how to prevent conflict, and less on
finding peaceful methods of conflict management. In particu-
lar, there needs to be more attention given to the type of politi-
cal choices that those negotiating an end to a period of violent
conflict have to make to rebuild their country, and how they can
build an enduring democracy – the only sustainable form of gov-
ernment – from the ashes of conflict.
This handbook attempts to meet this need by providing nego-
tiators and policy-makers with detailed information on options
for building democracy in post-conflict societies. We have
brought together international experts, both academics and
practitioners, in many fields – from negotiation techniques to
power-sharing formulas, from questions of federalism and auto-
nomy to electoral systems and parliaments – to provide practical,
policy-relevant advice. The handbook draws on the experience
of peace settlements and democracy building from places such
as Bosnia, Fiji, Northern Ireland and South Africa to illustrate
the many, often unrecognized, options that negotiators can
draw upon when attempting to build a nascent democracy.
International IDEA was created in 1995 with precisely this
objective – to make available practical instruments for building
v
sustainable democracy so as to enhance the prospects for demo-
cracy’s growth world-wide. We strongly believe that the way
democratic procedures and institutions are developed and
implemented can play a much more important role in post-conflict
peace building than has been the case to date. This handbook
has therefore been written and presented so as to ensure
maximum accessibility for busy policy-makers.
Many good people have contributed to this handbook. We
are grateful to all of them, but particularly to David Storey for his
early conceptual input, to David Bloomfield, who was the lead
writer on a number of chapters, to Tim Sisk for his many excellent
suggestions for improving the text, and to Salma Hasan Ali and the
publication team at IDEA, who turned the raw material into a
usable publication.
My greatest thanks, however, must go to the two IDEA staff
members, Mr Peter Harris and Dr Ben Reilly, who developed,
and edited the handbook from its inception. Between them,
they have produced a publication which we hope will be of great
utility in the coming years, when the challenge of building sus-
tainable democracy has never been more pressing.
We are very much aware of the huge scope of a subject like
democracy and deep-rooted conflict, and would welcome your
comments, ideas and suggestions on any aspects of the hand-
book.
Bengt Säve-Söderbergh
Secretary-General
International IDEA
vi
Foreword
The United Nations exists, among other reasons, for the fun-
damental purpose of maintaining peace and security in the
world. One of its main activities, therefore, is the resolution of
conflicts – a task which has become more complex in recent
times when many conflicts take the form of internal factional
and civil strife, though often with very serious external reper-
cussions.
This has obliged the international community to develop new
instruments of conflict resolution, many of which relate to the
electoral process and, more generally, to the entrenchment of a
democratic culture in war-torn societies, with a view to making
peace sustainable. This handbook lists an impressive range of
such instruments, based on lessons learned from recent experi-
ence in the field.
The United Nations system as a whole is focusing on avoiding
relapse into violence, especially in intra-state conflicts, by estab-
lishing the foundations of a lasting peace. That focus is
admirably reflected in this handbook. It shows that building
stable and solid internal political structures is not a separate task
from crisis management, but needs to be part of it; and it pro-
poses an array of practical resources for those of us engaged in
the search for comprehensive and lasting settlements in specific
conflicts. Competing forces have to be brought to discuss their
differences within a legal and administrative framework, and to
seek solutions based on systems of rules which derive their legit-
imacy from the will of the people, and from universal principles
of human dignity. That in turn requires the creation of institu-
tions built to last.
Happily, there is a growing trend throughout the world towards
democratization and respect of human rights. Some 120
countries now hold generally free and fair elections, and a large
number of internal conflicts end with a negotiated peace which
includes an electoral process aimed at building political structures
acceptable to all. The parties themselves agree to deliver a su-
stainable peaceful settlement through a democratic transition.
Democratic principles provide the essential starting point for
implementation of such settlements, which usually involve not
vii
only democratizing the state but also giving more power to civil
society. Once political actors accept the need for peaceful man-
agement of deep-rooted conflicts, democratic systems of gov-
ernment can help them develop habits of compromise, co-oper-
ation and consensus building. These are not abstract statements,
but practical conclusions drawn from UN experiences of con-
flict resolution in the field. This handbook, which presents sys-
tematically the lessons learned by the UN and other organiza-
tions, constitutes an invaluable addition to the literature on con-
flict prevention, management and resolution.
Kofi A. Annan
Secretary-General
United Nations
viii
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
OVERVIEW .............................................................................................................................. 1
The Need for this Handbook .......................................................................................... 2
The Aims of the Handbook .............................................................................................. 3
How to Use the Handbook .............................................................................................. 4
Analysis .................................................................................................................. 4
Process .................................................................................................................. 4
Outcome .................................................................................................................. 5
Sustainability .......................................................................................................... 5
Case Studies .......................................................................................................... 5
Tools ........................................................................................................................ 6
Sources and Acknowledgements .................................................................................. 6
1. THE CHANGING NATURE OF CONFLICT AND CONFLICT

MANAGEMENT .......................................................................................................... 7
1.1 Characteristics of Deep-Rooted Conflict .............................................................. 9
1.1.1 Identity-driven, emotionally charged ................................................................ 11
1.1.2 Beyond borders .................................................................................................... 12
1.2 New Tools for Conflict Management ....................................................................13
1.3 The Importance of Democratic Institutions ...................................................... 16
1.4 Democracy and Conflict Management .................................................................. 17
1.5 Addressing the Real Causes of Conflict .............................................................. 20
1.6 Process and Outcome ................................................................................................ 22
1.7 Maximizing Women’s Participation ...................................................................... 24
1.8 Short- and Long-Term Planning .............................................................................. 25
2. ANALYSING DEEP-ROOTED CONFLICT .................................................... 29

2.1 Introduction .................................................................................................................. 31
2.2 Conflict as Both Positive and Negative ................................................................ 32
2.3 Patterns of Deep-Rooted Conflict .......................................................................... 33
2.4 National and International Factors in Deep-Rooted Conflict ........................34
2.4.1 Decolonization .................................................................................................... 35
Table of Contents
2.4.2 End of the Cold War .......................................................................................... 36

2.4.3 The state in crisis ................................................................................................ 36
2.5 Difficulties in Managing Identity-Related Conflicts ........................................ 37
2.5.1 Indivisibility ........................................................................................................ 37
2.5.2 Escalation ............................................................................................................ 37
2.5.3 Leadership ............................................................................................................ 38
2.6 Analysing Conflict ........................................................................................................ 38
2.7 Factors for Analysis .................................................................................................... 41
2.8 Analytic Lenses .............................................................................................................. 44
2.8.1 The conflict triangle .......................................................................................... 44
2.8.2 Stages of escalation ............................................................................................ 46
2.9 Conclusion ...................................................................................................................... 48
3. NEGOTIATION PROCESSES .............................................................................. 59

3.1 Introduction .................................................................................................................. 61
3.2 Key Issues in Process Design .................................................................................... 61
3.2.1 Commonly perceived deadlock .......................................................................... 61
3.2.2 Seizing opportunities .......................................................................................... 62
3.2.3 The importance of trust ...................................................................................... 63
3.2.4 Flexibility .............................................................................................................. 65
3.3 Pre-Negotiation ............................................................................................................ 66
3.3.1 The pre-negotiation agenda .............................................................................. 68
3.4 Developing a Specific Negotiation Process ........................................................ 69
3.4.1 Participants ........................................................................................................ 69
3.4.2 Preconditions and barriers to negotiations .................................................... 73
3.4.3 Levelling the playing-field ................................................................................ 76
3.4.4 Resourcing the negotiations .............................................................................. 78
3.4.5 The form of negotiations .................................................................................... 79
3.4.6 Venue and location ............................................................................................ 82
3.4.7 Communication and information exchange .................................................. 84
3.4.8 Setting the agenda .............................................................................................. 86
3.4.9 Managing the proceedings ................................................................................ 88
3.4.10 Timeframes .......................................................................................................... 89
3.4.11 Decision-making .................................................................................................. 91
3.5 Basic Techniques for Negotiation .......................................................................... 93
3.5.1 Promote confidence building between the parties ............................................ 94
Table of Contents
3.5.2 Promote clarity .................................................................................................... 95
3.5.3 Promote understanding ...................................................................................... 95
3.5.4 Promote movement .............................................................................................. 97
3.6 Tools to Break Deadlock .......................................................................................... 99
3.6.1 Coalition building .............................................................................................. 99
3.6.2 Unofficial channels .......................................................................................... 100
3.6.3 Subgroups .......................................................................................................... 100
3.6.4 Shuttle mediation .............................................................................................. 101
3.6.5 Proximity talks .................................................................................................. 101
3.6.6 Referendums, consultations and mandates .................................................. 102
3.6.7 Unofficial supplements to negotiation .......................................................... 102
3.7 Third-Party Assistance .............................................................................................. 104
3.7.1 Introduction ...................................................................................................... 104
3.7.2 Types of intervention ........................................................................................ 106
3.7.3 Official and unofficial intervention .............................................................. 110
3.8 Conclusion .................................................................................................................... 113
4. DEMOCRATIC LEVERS FOR CONFLICT MANAGEMENT ................ 133

Democratic Levers: An Introduction .................................................................. 135
4.1 Power-Sharing Democracy: An Overview .......................................................... 139
4.1.1 Preventing or escaping deep-rooted conflict .................................................. 139
4.1.2 Differences in approach .................................................................................... 140
4.1.3 Promoting power sharing ................................................................................ 141
4.1.4 When can power sharing succeed? ................................................................ 142
4.2 The Structure of the State: Federalism and Autonomy ................................ 155
4.2.1 Means of devolving power .............................................................................. 156
4.2.2 International regional organizations ............................................................ 158
4.2.3 Examples of federalism and autonomy .......................................................... 158
4.2.4 The legal basis for autonomy .......................................................................... 160
4.2.5 The advantages of federalism and autonomy solutions .............................. 161
4.2.6 Resistance to federalism and autonomy ........................................................ 163
4.2.7 Structuring autonomy arrangements ............................................................ 164
4.3 Executive Type: Presidentialism versus Parliamentarism ............................ 179
4.3.1 Parliamentary systems ...................................................................................... 180
4.3.2 Presidentialism .................................................................................................. 183
4.3.3 Semi-presidentialism ........................................................................................ 186
Table of Contents
4.3.4 Conclusion ........................................................................................................ 187

4.4 Electoral Systems for Divided Societies ............................................................ 191
4.4.1 Introduction ...................................................................................................... 191
4.4.2 Electoral systems and conflict management .................................................. 192
4.4.3 Needs of transitional and consolidated democracies ....................................201
4.5 Legislatures for Post-Conflict Societies .............................................................. 212
4.5.1 Introduction ...................................................................................................... 212
4.5.2 Elections and members .................................................................................... 214
4.5.3 Internal features ................................................................................................ 214
4.5.4 Sources of power: executives and political parties ........................................ 219
4.5.5 One or two chambers? ...................................................................................... 220
4.5.6 Conclusion ........................................................................................................ 222
4.6 Human Rights Instruments .................................................................................... 234
4.6.1 Introduction ...................................................................................................... 234
4.6.2 Instruments dealing with religious and ethnic persecution ........................ 236
4.6.3 Specific instruments to protect minorities ...................................................... 238
4.6.4 Protecting women’s rights ................................................................................ 239
4.6.5 Recent initiatives .............................................................................................. 240
4.6.6 Conclusion ........................................................................................................ 242
4.7 Language Policy for Multi-Ethnic Societies ...................................................... 243
4.7.1 Why does language policy matter? ................................................................ 244
4.7.2 Assimilation or pluralism ................................................................................ 245
4.7.3 Advantages of language pluralism ................................................................ 246
4.7.4 Potential drawbacks ........................................................................................ 247
4.7.5 Language boards .............................................................................................. 247
4.7.6 Comparative lessons ........................................................................................ 248
4.8 National Conferences .............................................................................................. 252
4.8.1 Introduction ...................................................................................................... 252
4.8.2 What is a national conference? ...................................................................... 253
4.8.3 Objectives of a national conference ................................................................ 254
4.8.4 Implementation ................................................................................................ 255
4.8.5 Impact ................................................................................................................ 257
4.9 Transitional Justice .................................................................................................... 273
4.9.1 Policies for coping with the past .................................................................... 273
4.9.2 The case for prosecution and/or lustration .................................................. 275
4.9.3 The case against punishment ........................................................................ 276
Table of Contents
4.9.4 Constraints ........................................................................................................ 279
4.9.5 Conclusions ...................................................................................................... 279
4.10 Reckoning for Past Wrongs: Truth Commissions and War Crimes
Tribunals ...................................................................................................................... 281
Truth Commissions .................................................................................................... 282
4.10.1 Description ........................................................................................................ 282
4.10.2 Tasks and activities ........................................................................................ 284
4.10.3 Strengths and limitations ................................................................................ 284
4.10.4 Organization .................................................................................................... 285
War Crimes Tribunals .............................................................................................. 289
4.10.5 Description ........................................................................................................ 289
4.10.6 Tasks and activities ........................................................................................ 290
4.10.7 Strengths and limitations ................................................................................ 290
4.10.8 Organization .................................................................................................... 291
4.10.9 Conclusion ........................................................................................................ 293
4.11 Building an Electoral Administration .................................................................. 308
4.11.1 The nature of the electoral process .................................................................. 309
4.11.2 Critical factors in election administration .................................................... 310
4.11.3 The functions of an electoral administration .............................................. 312
4.11.4 The location of an electoral body .................................................................... 313
4.11.5 Fears and concerns .......................................................................................... 314
4.11.6 Conclusion ........................................................................................................ 318
4.12 National Machinery for Gender Equality .......................................................... 320
4.12.1 Constitutional mechanisms ............................................................................ 321
4.12.2 Executive and administrative structures ...................................................... 322
4.12.3 Ministries for women’s affairs ........................................................................ 323
4.12.4 Ministry for Gender and Community Development:
The case of Uganda .......................................................................................... 324
4.12.5 The Office of the Status of Women:
The case of Australia and South Africa ........................................................ 325
4.12.6 Gender desks/focal points in line ministries ................................................ 326
4.12.7 National machinery in the legislature .......................................................... 327
4.12.8 Successes and failures of the national machinery ........................................ 328
4.12.9 Conclusion ........................................................................................................ 328
5. SUSTAINING THE DEMOCRATIC SETTLEMENT ................................ 343

5.1 Introduction ................................................................................................................ 345
Table of Contents
5.2 Basic Principles .......................................................................................................... 348

5.2.1 Transparency .................................................................................................... 349
5.2.2 Accountability .................................................................................................. 350
5.2.3 Participation ...................................................................................................... 351
5.3 Issues and Concerns .................................................................................................. 352
5.3.1 Monitoring and evaluation ............................................................................ 353
5.3.2 Waning commitment of actors ........................................................................ 355
5.3.3 Lack of resources and capacity ...................................................................... 356
5.3.4 Deteriorating economy and development ...................................................... 357
5.3.5 Implementation delays .................................................................................... 359
5.3.6 Undermining fundamental rights and freedoms ........................................ 360
5.3.7 Usurpation ........................................................................................................ 361
5.3.8 Corruption and nepotism ................................................................................ 362
5.3.9 Maladministration .......................................................................................... 363
5.3.10 Levels of safety and security ............................................................................ 364
5.3.11 Checks and balances ........................................................................................ 365
5.4 International Dimensions ........................................................................................ 367
5.4.1 The United Nations .......................................................................................... 367
5.4.2 Democracy assistance and foreign aid .......................................................... 369
5.4.3 Regional perspectives ........................................................................................ 370
5.4.4 International assistance: democratic governance and development
co-operation ........................................................................................................ 376
5.4.5 Bilateral development agencies ...................................................................... 380
5.4.6 Multilateral development banks .................................................................... 382
5.5 Conclusion .................................................................................................................... 384
CONCLUSION .................................................................................................................... 389
CASE STUDIES
Case Studies
Case Study South Africa ...................................................................................................... 49

Case Study Northern Ireland .......................................................................................... 121
Case Study Bosnia-Herzegovina ...................................................................................... 147
Case Study Bougainville .................................................................................................... 169
Case Study Fiji ...................................................................................................................... 205
Case Study Sri Lanka .......................................................................................................... 225
Case Study National Conferences in Francophone Africa .................................... 263
Case Study Guatemala ...................................................................................................... 299
Case Study The Commission for Gender Equality in South Africa .................. 335
Menus, Factsheets, Boxes, Graphs and Maps
Menus, Factsheets, Boxes, Graphs and Maps
Factsheet 1 The New State of Conflict: Some Facts ............................................ 14–15

Graphs
❚ Rising Rate of Civilian Casualties
❚ Cost of UN Peace-keeping Operations 1986–1997
❚ Global Refugee Population 1978–1997
❚ Internally Displaced Persons During the 1990s
Box 1 Themes of this Handbook ............................................................................ 20
Box 2 Analysing a Conflict: Three Approaches ................................................ 40
Map 1 South Africa ...................................................................................................... 49
Box 3 Key Elements in Designing a Negotiation Process .............................. 66
Box 4 Major Elements for Pre-Negotiation ........................................................ 69
Box 5 Negotiating Techniques: Some Basic Principles .................................. 98
Box 6 Breaking Deadlock ...................................................................................... 103
Box 7 Forms of Third-Party Intervention .......................................................... 112
Menu 1 Developing a Negotiation Process: A Menu of Options ........ 114–118
Map 2 Northern Ireland .......................................................................................... 121
Menu 2 Power-Sharing Mechanisms: A Menu of Options ...................... 144–145
Map 3 Bosnia-Herzegovina ...................................................................................... 147
Map 4 Bougainville .................................................................................................... 169
Menu 3 Constituting an Executive Government: A Menu of Options ...... 189
Box 8 Electoral Systems Around the World ............................................ 193–196
Box 9 Ideal Qualities of Electoral Institutions for Transitional
and Consolidated Democracies .............................................................. 202
Menu 4 Electoral System Choices for Divided Societies .................................. 203
Map 5 Fiji ...................................................................................................................... 205
Map 6 Sri Lanka .......................................................................................................... 225
Factsheet 2 Organizing a National Conference ................................................ 260–261
Map 7 National Conferences in Francophone Africa .................................... 263
Box 10 Policies for Coping with the Past ............................................................ 274
Box 11 Examples of Truth Commissions ............................................................ 283
Factsheet 3 Designing a Truth Commission ...................................................... 287–288
Box 12 Examples of War Crimes Tribunals ........................................................ 289
Factsheet 4 Designing a War Crimes Tribunal .................................................. 295–296
Map 8 Guatemala ...................................................................................................... 299
Box 13 Electoral Administration: International Trends ........................ 315–316
Box 14 Gender Equality in the Constitution: Three Examples .................. 322
Menu 5 Mechanisms for Entrenching Gender Equality:
A Menu of Options .............................................................................. 330–334
Map 9 Commission for Gender Equality in South Africa ............................ 335
Overview
The nature of violent conflict in the world has changed in The question that
recent decades, both in its actual subject-matter and in the form concerns us in this
of its expression. One of the most dramatic changes has been
handbook is: how do
the trend away from traditional inter-state conflict (that is, a war
between sovereign states) and towards intra-state conflict (that is, we get an agreement
one which takes place between factions within an existing state). at the negotiating
Whereas most violent conflicts over the course of the twentieth table that will deliver
century have been between states, in the 1990s almost all major a sustainable and
conflicts around the world have taken place within states. Bet-
ween 1989 and 1996, for example, 95 of the 101 armed conflicts peaceful outcome to a
identified around the world were such internal disputes. Most of violent conflict? Our
these conflicts were propelled, at least in part, by quests for self- answer is: by
determination or adequate recognition of communal identity structuring both the
rather than by ideology or the conquest of territory. This repre-
sents a major shift in the manifestation of human conflict, espe-
process of the
cially compared to the world wars and major inter-state conflicts negotiations and the
fought over the course of this century. agreed outcomes in
By comparison, our methods of managing such intra-state such a way as to
conflicts have evolved much more slowly. Peaceful management maximize the
of domestic conflicts needs approaches which recognize the im-
prospects of
portance of building sustainable internal political structures, rather
than those designed and implemented primarily by external democracy taking root
actors. This means that issues about the internal political orga- in the post-conflict
nization of a state are of much greater importance in managing period.
conflicts today than in the past, and accordingly there is now a
greater focus than ever on the role of domestic political actors
engaged in a deep-rooted conflict. Traditional approaches all
too often fail to address the needs and interests which fuel such
conflicts, resulting in attempts to impose unsuitable solutions in
ad hoc and inappropriate ways. There is a tremendous need for
new and better tools that will more effectively address the new
context of intra-state conflict.
This handbook contains practical resources for those invol-
ved in bringing intra-state conflict out of a prolonged phase of
violence and designing a feasible and sustainable model for its
peaceful management. Unlike many works on the subject, it is
1
not primarily concerned with the role of the international com-
munity. Rather, its focus is on what happens at the negotiating
table between the parties to the conflict themselves. It offers
politicians, negotiators, mediators and other political actors a
range of tools and materials needed for the construction of a set-
tlement. These can assist both in the negotiation process itself –
how one works towards an agreement; and in the building of a
settlement – what one reaches agreement about. It is not con-
cerned with preventive diplomacy, conflict early warning sys-
tems, conflict prevention in the narrow sense, and so on, impor-
tant though those topics are. The question that concerns us in
this handbook is: how do we get an agreement at the negotiating
table that will deliver a sustainable and peaceful outcome to a
violent conflict? Our answer is: by structuring both the process of
the negotiations and the agreed outcomes in such a way as to
maximize the prospects of democracy taking root in the post-
conflict period.
The Need for this Handbook
The end-game of violent conflict is perhaps the most difficult
phase of transformation in a hugely difficult process. In that
phase, parties need two overall aids. They need to be able to
avail themselves of the most effective and appropriate dialogue
process to facilitate their negotiations; and they then need to
successfully negotiate a sustainable settlement by putting in place
effective and appropriate democratic structures and political
institutions. Our aim is to assist the users of this handbook in the
difficult task of creating comprehensive and durable solutions to
long-term violent conflicts. In so doing, we draw on the experi-
ence of a number of recent peace settlements in Northern Ire-
land, South Africa, Bougainville, Guatemala and elsewhere.
Negotiators need However, this handbook does not provide any panacea. It
practical, accessible would be ludicrous to prescribe one overall single design for use
across a variety of situations, each in many ways unique. Rather
options for building a
than offer some universal recipe for success, or reinvent the
sustainable wheel for every new situation, the handbook offers options for
democracy. the construction of solutions, helping to focus attention on the
core issues, providing many examples and lessons from other
contexts, and in very practical ways assisting creativity in solution
building. This is not an academic thesis. It is presented in read-
able, straightforward language, and is grounded in wide expe-
rience of real negotiation situations, the better to be of inter-
est and practical use to the practitioner and the policy-maker.
2
Anyone can suggest ideal solutions; but only those involved
can, through negotiation, discover and create the shape of a
practical solution.
Negotiation and mediation skills and processes have been the
subject of a great deal of academic study in recent years. The
practicalities of these processes have also been studied in depth
at inter-group, institutional and international levels. In addition,
the study of democratization and democracy building, both as a
concept and in its varied applications in the world, has become
a major field of academic interest. This project aims uniquely to
bring together all three areas, adapting the best work from each,
and constantly using each related area of knowledge to shed
light on the other areas. Our aim here is to synthesize them into
a unified approach in the form of a practical handbook. Above
all, we want to bridge the gap between the worlds of theory and
of policy, using the best of the former to strengthen the latter in
a practical, policy-oriented approach.
The Aims of the Handbook
The handbook will be of primary use to negotiators and Among the aims of
politicians representing conflicting parties, but also relevant to this handbook is to
third-party intervenors, to civil servants and policy analysts, to
provide negotiators
scholars and specialists of deeply divided societies, to journalists
and advisers, and so on. It is designed specifically for use with with a wide range of
conflicts which are, in the terminology, in the pre-negotiation or practical options, both
negotiation phase: that is, situations which have reached a stage for designing the most
where negotiation has become at least a serious possibility, if not
appropriate
an imminent eventuality. Put simply, the handbook aims:
negotiation process for
– To assist parties who are in, or about to enter, the process
of negotiating a political settlement following a period of them, and for
violent conflict, by helping them to generate creative scen- choosing the
arios for progress towards an acceptable outcome. democratic structures
– To provide them with a wide range of practical options, most suited to their
both for designing the most appropriate negotiation
situation and their
process for them, and for choosing the democratic struc-
tures most suited to their situation and their future. Using future.
the resources offered in the handbook in this construction
process, they can thus engineer an appropriate sequence
of events, a path to progress, which will co-ordinate the dif-
ficult but vital process of peace building through democra-
cy building.
– To assist them in developing solutions which are not only
feasible, acceptable and appropriate during the conflict
3
management phase, but which are also viable and sustain-
able in the long term, via appropriately designed democra-
tic institutions which protect and strengthen human rights
within the new post-conflict society.
– More generally, to provide information on the range of
varied approaches to building sustainable democracy that
have been used in post-conflict situations around the
world, for the benefit of domestic actors and the interna-
tional community alike.
How to Use the Handbook
Building peace is an The layout of the handbook is practically orientated. It is ac-
immense challenge. cepted that building peace is an immense challenge, and our
aim is simply to offer support and guidance, options and exam-
Our aim is simply to ples along the way to those involved in the task. In Chapter 1, we
offer support and examine the changing nature of conflict in recent decades and
guidance, options and discuss how democratic values and institutions provide the
examples along the framework for building effective and lasting settlements. The
handbook then consists of four consecutive stages: analysis, pro-
way to those involved cess design, outcome design, and sustainability. Each stage is gi-
in the task. ven a chapter.
Analysis
First, we analyse the conflict in question and reach a descrip-
tive understanding of its issues and elements. Chapter 2 initially
provides some insights on the nature of deep-rooted conflict, on
various typologies of conflict, and on the process of analysing
conflict. It then offers a range of analytic tools, so that readers
can be assisted in making a diagnosis of their specific conflict.
This involves reaching a detailed understanding of its issues,
themes, actors, dynamics, history, resources, phases, and so on.
The result should provide a rich and informative “snapshot” of
the conflict.
Process
Once diagnosis is complete, Chapter 3 guides readers
through the design of the most appropriate negotiation process
to suit their situation. It offers important general considerations
about designing good process, and then some specific factors to
be considered in building the process most suitable to the par-
ticular conflict. It assists readers to identify and design the basic
building blocks of their process, such as choice of venue, partic-
ipants, agenda design, the structure and ground-rules for talks,
and so on. It offers specific tools for breaking deadlock, and a
menu of negotiation/facilitation techniques from which readers
4
can choose the most appropriate options according to their
previous diagnosis, the better to construct a solid talks process
best suited to their specific needs.
Outcome
Once process has been agreed, the next phase is to address out-
come. Here we consider, in particular, the forms and functions of
the wide range of practical democratic institutions and struc-
tures which can make up the ingredients of a high-quality outcome
negotiated by means of the process designed in Chapter 3.
Chapter 4 reviews the value of such structures, and the issues
involved in their design. Then it offers a detailed and wide-rang-
ing menu of the possible democratic “levers” which those engi-
neering an outcome can consider, use and adapt. The list of
options ranges from key questions about the structure of the
state such as the distribution of power, forms of executives and
legislatures, federalism and autonomy, electoral systems, judicia-
ries, etc.; to mechanisms which address specific issues or inter-
ests such as truth and reconciliation commissions, language
boards, gender commissions and so on.
Sustainability
Finally, Chapter 5 looks at how to sustain the outcome in the
long term, and identifies the obstacles and pitfalls that may
affect the implementation of the agreement as well as the
specific mechanisms that will sustain and nourish the negotiated
settlement. It also offers some underlying principles for suppor-
ting the implementation phase. The role of the international
community in promoting and assisting democratic settlements
in post-conflict situations is also discussed and analysed from a
policy perspective.
Case Studies
The handbook includes a wide range of case studies from
deep-rooted conflicts around the world. These case studies offer
insights into both successes and failures in peace building and
democracy. All of them, both successes and failures, contain im-
portant lessons for those attempting to build an enduring settle-
ment to their own crisis. Most of these case studies – from places
ranging from Bougainville to Bosnia, and from South Africa to
Northern Ireland – are classic examples of “intra-state” conflicts
discussed earlier, in which a focus on negotiated outcomes based
on democratic principles were key to building a lasting peace. As
the case studies illustrate, building democracy in such circum-
stances is extremely difficult, but the alternatives to it almost
inevitably mean a return to bloodshed.
5
Tools
Our goal is to make this handbook as accessible and easy-to-
read as possible – to make it a handy instrument that negotia-
tors and policy-makers can turn to in order to understand the
range of options available to them in negotiating deep-rooted
conflicts. Therefore, we include throughout the book what we
refer to as “A Menu of Options”, and factsheets. These are one-
or two-page overviews that present the main options, issues, or
lessons discussed in each section in a clear and concise manner.
Also, we include at the top of each page the number and title of
each main section heading so readers can situate themselves
anywhere in the the book easily and quickly.
Sources and Acknowledgements
The handbook The two main sources of material for this handbook are prac-
illustrates its tical examples of contemporary conflict and its management
procedures by from around the world, and academic scholarship. At every
extensive use of point along the way, the handbook illustrates its procedures by
extensive use of examples and case studies drawn from real
examples and case
events and situations. One reason for this is obviously to help
studies drawn from
illustrate the points the handbook is making. Perhaps more im-
real events. This portantly, the examples offer readers the opportunity to learn
allows the reader to from instances of past and present successes and failures, and to
learn from past and compare other diagnoses and designs with their own situations.
present successes and With the academic material, the handbook aims to synthesize
failures, and to the best in contemporary scholarship and offer it in an accessible
compare other and practical form to policy-makers. It bridges the gap between
diagnoses and designs theory and policy by offering a composite of the best and most
with their own practically oriented work of theorists. The best theories are
always those that inform, and are informed by, reality and
situations.
practice. First and foremost, readers will bring their own expert
knowledge of their conflict to the handbook; this is then
complemented both by expert knowledge and analysis of other
real situations, and by the best of the relevant theoretical work.
To make the handbook as immediately practical as possible to
its readership we have listed all reference material at the end of
each chapter. Readers can pursue their particular interests further
through these many authors on whose work we have drawn. We
are deeply indebted to all of them.
6
Democracy and Deep-Rooted Conflict: Options for Negotiators
The Changing Nature of Conflict

and Conflict Management
The Changing
Nature of
Conflict and
Conflict
Management
1
Increasingly,
C H A P T E R
internalinternal
Increasingly, conflict,
conflict, rooted in ideas of
rooted in ideas of
human identity and often
expressed with frightening
human identity,
intensity, is the major
is the
major
threat threat
to stability and to
peace, at the individual,
stability
local and peace.
and international
levels.
In this first chapter we examine the changing
nature of conflict – conflict that is increasingly
taking place within states (intra-state) rather
than between states (inter-state) and that is
posing a severe challenge to traditional conflict
management techniques.
1.1 Characteristics of deep-rooted conflict

1.2 New tools for conflict management
1.3–1.4 Why democracy is best suited to manage such conflicts
1.5 Addressing the real causes of conflict
1.6 Distinguishing between process and outcome
1.7 Maximizing women’s participation
1.8 Short- and long-term planning
Factsheet 1 The New State of Conflict: Some Facts

(pp. 14–15)
Box 1 Themes of this Handbook (p. 20)
David Bloomfield
and Ben Reilly
The Changing Nature of Conflict

and Conflict Management
1.1 Characteristics of Deep-Rooted Conflict
I n recent years a new type of conflict has come increasingly

to the fore: conflict that takes place within and across states,
or intra-state conflict, in the form of civil wars, armed insur-
rections, violent secessionist movements and other domestic
warfare. The change has been dramatic: in the last three years,
for example, every major armed conflict originated at the do-
mestic level within a state, rather than between states. Two po-
werful elements often combine in such conflicts. One is identity:
the mobilization of people in communal identity groups based The combination of
on race, religion, culture, language, and so on. The other is dis-
tribution: the means of sharing the economic, social and political potent identity-based
resources within a society. Where perceived imbalance in distri- factors with wider
bution coincides with identity differences (where, for example, perceptions of
one religious group is deprived of certain resources available to economic and social
others) we have the potential for conflict. It is this combination
injustice often fuels
of potent identity-based factors with wider perceptions of eco-
nomic and social injustice that often fuels what we call “deep- what we call “deep-
rooted conflict”. rooted conflict”.
A striking characteristic of such internal conflict is its sheer
persistence. And this arises, above all, because its origins often
lie in deep-seated issues of identity. In this respect, the term eth-
nic conflict is often invoked. Ethnicity is a broad concept, cover-
ing a multiplicity of elements: race, culture, religion, heritage,
history, language, and so on. But at bottom, these are all identity
issues. What they fuel is termed identity-related conflict – in
short, conflict over any concept around which a community of
people focuses its fundamental identity and sense of itself as a
group, and over which it chooses, or feels compelled, to resort
to violent means to protect that identity under threat. Often,
such identity-related factors combine with conflicts over the dis-
tribution of resources – such as territory, economic power, em-
ployment prospects, and so on. Cases where the identity and dis-
tributive issues are combined provide the opportunity for ex-
ploitation and manipulation by opportunistic leaders, and the
highest potential for conflict.
9
1.1 Characteristics of
Deep-Rooted Conflict
Increasingly this kind of conflict, rooted in ideas of human

identity and often expressed with frightening intensity, is the
major threat to stability and peace, whether at the individual,
local and communal levels, or in the collective terms of interna-
tional security. Of the 27 conflicts in 1996 classified as “major
armed conflicts” (essentially, over 1000 deaths per year), for
example, fully 22 had a clear identity component to them. These
included conflicts in Russia (Chechnya), Northern Ireland, Iran
and Iraq (with the Kurds), Israel, Afghanistan, Bangladesh
(Chittagong Hill Tribes), Indonesia (East Timor), Sri Lanka,
Burma, Algeria and elsewhere. Only guerrilla-based struggles in
Peru, Cambodia, Guatemala, Colombia and Sierra Leone ap-
peared to be straightforward contests for power. Even amongst
these cases, there is no shortage of identity-based conflicts. In
sum, the vast majority of contemporary examples of violent
intra-state hostilities exhibit such characteristics.
A conflict in which Such conflicts are clearly very different from the more
one’s community is straightforward wars between states – over land, resources, poli-
tical power, ideology, etc. – of earlier times. (Such wars included
deprived of certain identity elements as well, of course, but usually not in the same
resources is bad centrally motivating way.) Identity-related conflict is far more
enough; but one may complex, persistent and intractable, instantly much less amen-
hope to negotiate a able to compromise, negotiation or trade-off. These conflicts in-
volve claims of group rights: national groups, gender groups,
better deal over those racial groups, religious groups, cultural groups, and so on.
resources. A conflict A conflict in which one’s community is deprived of certain
that also threatens our resources is bad enough; but one may hope to negotiate a better
deal over those resources. A conflict that also threatens our very
very sense of who we
sense of who we are is much more difficult to manage.
are is much more
Such complex and fundamental issues, then, fuel wars that
difficult to manage. are smaller in scale than the ideological or geopolitical struggles
of the past, but which flourish with much greater intensity. That
is due not only to the depth of meaning invested in them by
combatants, but also to the proliferation and easy availability of
lethal weapons. Since World War Two, cheap, mass-produced,
small-calibre weapons have killed far more people than the
heavier, more traditional battlefield weaponry. With arms mar-
kets flourishing, the Armalite, the Kalashnikov and the land
mine have brought war within the reach of any community with
the will and the means to organize an armed force. This prolifera-
tion of small arms has exponentially increased the intensity of
identity-related conflicts.
Intra-state conflict over identity tends to be persistent over the
long term, alternating between latent phases and outbursts of
10
1.1 Characteristics of Deep-Rooted

Conflict
sustained violence for periods of years or decades. The scale of

human suffering is breathtaking in this new context. During
World War One, just five per cent of casualties were civilians; by
World War Two the figure had risen to around 50 per cent. But
in the 1990s, the proportion of civilian war casualties has soared
to around 80 per cent. By 1992 there were around 17 million
refugees pushed by war across borders into foreign countries,
and a staggering estimate of a further 20 million displaced per-
sons rendered homeless by internal war but remaining within
national boundaries (Bosnian victims of ethnic cleansing, for
example). The long-term effect is to militarize the entire society:
violence becomes accepted and institutionalized. Society becomes
brutalized: civilian casualties multiply, rape and starvation
become organized weapons of war, and non-combatants – tradi-
tionally children and women – bear the brunt of the dehuman-
izing processes involved in this type of conflict. Such communal
trauma breeds deep and festering wounds and establishes he-
roes and martyrs on all sides whose memories and sacrifices
serve to deepen the real and perceived divide between the
conflicting identities.
1.1.1 Identity-driven, emotionally charged
What makes this kind of conflict so prevalent, so pervasive, so What makes deep-
durable and so insoluble, is the way in which the issues of the dis- rooted conflict so
pute are so emotionally charged. They go right to the heart of
what gives people their sense of themselves, defining a person’s prevalent, so
bond with her or his community and defining the source of sat- pervasive, so durable
isfaction for her or his need for identity. Since such conflict is by and so insoluble, is
no means restricted to the so-called developing world, an exam-
the way in which the
ple will serve from the heart of the Western establishment. In
the United Kingdom, people in Scotland debate widely among issues of the dispute
themselves about the ideal degree of autonomy from England. are so emotionaly
The argument ranges from complete independence from, to charged.
complete integration with, Britain. The political debate over
these important issues is spirited; but it does not mobilize into
violence.
Meanwhile, in another part of the UK, people have been
dying violently for centuries over just such a question. Irish
nationalists in Northern Ireland fear that under British rule they
can never achieve full self-expression of their communal identi-
ty as Irish people. Their counterparts, the pro-British Unionists,
fear their disappearance as an identity group if they lose the
union with Britain and join an Irish republic. So while Scots
argue over political control, economic resources and so on, they
do not violently struggle over matters of communal identity and
11
1.1 Characteristics of
self-expression, since the UK has apparently satisfied these

needs. In Northern Ireland, the same question goes so deep – to
the heart of people’s fears of who they are and where they be-
long in the world – that they leave political debate behind and
resort to violence.
1.1.2 Beyond borders
Internal as its origins may be, however, such conflict has ram-
ifications far beyond its own geographical borders. Because of
the increasingly complex interdependence among states, such
conflict tends not to be confined within the boundaries of the
particular state for long, if at all, but rapidly diffuses. It spills
over across frontiers and enmeshes other states, or parts of
states, in its grip. This process of diffusion and contagion means
that low-level intra-state conflicts can potentially escalate into
more intense inter-state ones.
In the Several factors contribute to this spillover effect. Neighbou-
interconnectedness of ring governments will have a strong self-interest in supporting
one side or another of an adjacent civil war, and their own rea-
the modern world and
sons for seeing the stabilization or destabilization of the state in
the instantaneous conflict. Quite apart from governments, population groups do
transmission of news not necessarily neatly reside within state borders. There may be
(the so-called “CNN large diaspora populations outside the state – refugee or emi-
effect”, conflict grant communities, or a section of a community cut off by par-
tition – who engage with the conflict through close identifica-
respects few
tion with one side or another. Hutus and Tutsis outside Rwanda,
boundaries, borders Tamils outside Sri Lanka and Basques outside Spain are only a
or jurisdictions. few among many examples. Beyond the immediate context, of
course, there exist more distant states, powers or regional blocs,
whose interests are directly concerned with the outcome of the
conflict: for instance, the European Union’s security concerns
over Bosnia, US interests in Central America, Russian involve-
ment in Georgia, and so on. Such factors immediately extend
the geography of the conflict, adding to its complexity as well as
its scale. In the interconnectedness of the modern world and the
instantaneous transmission of news (the so-called “CNN effect”),
conflict respects few boundaries, borders or jurisdictions.
When it comes to managing such conflict, its complexities
cause immense difficulties. There can even be a difficulty in cor-
rectly identifying the parties to the conflict. The picture is even
more confused when we factor in the external sponsors of the
conflict. Sponsors, regional allies, kin states or whatever, will
12
1.2 New Tools for Conflict

Management
usually be operating in general support of one side’s agenda,

while also bringing their own specific agenda and interests to
the conflict. The result can be a degree of interference, which
actually reduces the disputing parties’ chances of resolving the
conflict. With so many factions involved, both internal and
external, the task of satisfying the key interests of the various
actors makes a solution far more difficult to achieve. It also
makes the conflict management process more prone to abuse
and disruption.
1.2 New Tools for Conflict Management
Many existing conflict management tools were constructed
during, and in response to, world wars and the Cold War. The
narrow, containment-oriented strategies of coercion and crisis-
management that prevailed during the era of superpower rivalry
have been exposed as arthritic, inflexible and increasingly impo-
tent against a wave of reinvigorated intra-state, identity-driven,
deep-rooted conflicts. The Cold War froze many such deep-rooted
conflicts, so that they simply went into a latent phase, invisible
on the surface but with their roots as deep as ever. Cold War
strategists focused on short-term stability rather than longer-
term sustainability. What is needed now is a new range of flexible
and adaptable instruments that can take into account the more
subjective, complex and deep-rooted needs and interests that
underpin identity-related conflict.
It is the aim of this handbook not to engage too deeply in the Today’s predominant
somewhat philosophical, if important, argument about overall pattern of conflict is
approaches to conflict management, but to concentrate on proving resistant to
developing the resources and the materials for doing the job by
the available and
assisting the construction of settlements that properly address all
the aspects of a conflict. To this end, the following chapters of- accepted tools of
fer tools for designing good conflict management processes, conflict management.
and the basic building blocks for putting in place sustainable,
durable and flexible solutions to conflict. There is a premium
placed on democratic outcomes, but democracy itself is not a
panacea. Democratic states suffer from conflicts just as others
do, and the presence of democracy is no guarantee of a society
without political violence. But – and this is a major theme of this
handbook – democratic societies tend to develop the institu-
tions, resources and flexibility, in the long term, to peacefully
manage these kinds of conflict.
13
THE NEW STATE OF CONFLICT: SOME FACTS
Deep-Rooted Conflict: Conflict, originating largely within

states, which combines two powerful elements: potent
identity-based factors, based on differences in race, religion,
culture, language and so on, with perceived imbalance in the
distribution of economic, political and social resources.
Characteristics: complex, persistent, and intractable; much less

amenable to compromise, negotiation or trade-off; rapidly diffuses
beyond the boundaries of the particular state.
Intra-state, not inter-state. In the last three years, every major armed
conflict originated at the domestic level within a state (intra-state),
rather than between states (inter-state).
Of the 101 armed conflicts during 1989-1996, only six were inter-state.
The remaining 95 took place within existing states.
Identity-based. Of the 27 conflicts in 1996 classified as “major armed
conflicts” (more than 1,000 dead per year), 22 had a clear identity
component to them.
New weapons of war. Since World War Two, cheap, mass-produced,
small-calibre weapons have killed far more people than the heavier
more traditional battlefield weaponry.
Civilian casualties. During World War One, five per cent of casualties
were civilian; by World War Two the figure had risen to 50 per cent. In
the 1990s, the proportion of civilian casualties has soared to 80 per cent.
Refugees. By 1992, there were about 17 million refugees, and a further
20 million people who were internally displaced.
Examples. Deep-rooted conflicts include Russia (Chechnya), Northern
Ireland, Iran and Iraq (with the Kurds), Israel, Afghanistan,
Bangladesh (Chittagong Hill Tribes), Indonesia (East Timor), Sri
Lanka, Burma, Algeria and elsewhere.
Source: SIPRI Yearbook 1997: Armaments, Disarmament and International Security.
Oxford: Oxford University Press for SIPRI.
FACTSHEET 1 [P. 14]

THE NEW STATE OF CONFLICT: SOME FACTS
Rising Rate of Civilian Casualties Cost of United Nations

The percentage of civilian casualties Peace-keeping Operations
soared from five per cent during WWI 1986–1997
to 80 per cent during the 1990s.
The cost of peace-keeping has risen
Source: Ramsbotham, Oliver, from less than $US 200 million to over
and Tom Woodhouse. 1996. $US 1 billion in the last ten years.
Source: Peace-keeping Financing
Division /DPKO/UNHQ.
(millions of US$)
1,175.1
1,467.5
2,565.4
3,226.4
’97
2,970.2
’96
1,675.8
’95
’94
427.9
’93
357.7
’92
568.5
’91
80%
205.2
’90
50%
180.4
’90s 183.7 ’89
5%
’88
WW II
’87
WW I ’86
Global Refugee Population 1978–1997 Internally

The number of refugees has nearly quadrupled Displaced Persons
in the last two decades. During the 1990s
Source: UNHCR The number of internally
Statistic at January each year. Totals displaced persons (IDPs)
do not include other groups of concern reached 26 million in 1994.
to UNHCR and Palestinians assisted Source: U.S. Committee
by the UN Relief and Works for Refugees. (Figures
Agency for Palestine Refugees taken from: World
in the Near East. Refugee Statistics.)
13,200,000
13,237,000
14,489,000
16,402,000
18,189,000
’97
17,008,000
More than 17 Million IDPs
’96
17,198,000
’95
14,916,000
’94
14,779,000
’93
13,272,000
’92
12,396,000
’91
11,613,000
’90
10,506,000
’89
10,883,000
’88
10,376,000
’78
9,826,000
’86
8,229,000
’85 ’97
5,692,000
’84 ’96
4,576,000
’83 ’95
3,778,000
’82 ’94
’81 ’93
’80 ’92
’79 ’91
’78 ’90
© International IDEA
FACTSHEET 1 [P. 15]
1.3 The Importance of
Democratic Institutions
1.3 The Importance of Democratic Institutions

Three central themes dominate this handbook. The first is
the crucial role that appropriate democratic political structures
play in forging an enduring settlement to an internal conflict. It
is important to understand that there is no single or simple
model of democracy. Those wishing to build a sustainable set-
tlement to a conflict have often overlooked the importance of
making appropriate institutional choices about systems of gov-
ernance. Seldom do they have access to all the information nec-
essary to make informed decisions about which institutions
might best suit their particular needs. This handbook attempts
to fill this gap. The choice of appropriate democratic institu-
tions – forms of devolution or autonomy, electoral system de-
Democratic structures sign, legislative bodies, judicial structures, and so on – designed
can offer an effective and developed through fair and honest negotiation processes,
means for the peaceful are vital ingredients in building an enduring and peaceful set-
handling of deep- tlement to even the most intractable conflict. Conversely, the
international scene is littered with post-conflict settlements that
rooted conflict through
broke down in part because of inappropriate and unsustainable
inclusive, just and institutional choices for deeply divided societies. Selecting un-
accountable suitable institutions can increase the possibility of a conflict per-
frameworks. sisting or even escalating.
At Bicesse in 1991, for example, parties to the Angolan con-
flict built an agreement by focusing on the goal of holding de-
mocratic elections which, it was presumed, would lead to a sub-
sequent power sharing among the parties in a coalition govern-
ment. However, the Angolan constitution was unsuited to sup-
port the power-sharing government which the Bicesse process
aimed to bring about, since it concentrated political power not
in a broad-based and inclusive parliament but in the hands of
one person – the president. With both the incumbent govern-
ment of President dos Santos and guerrilla leader Jonas Savimbi
competing for the office of president – the only prize worth hav-
ing in the context of the Angolan Constitution – the loser had a
greater incentive to opt out of the political transition and resume
fighting than to stay inside the process in a powerless position.
And this was precisely what happened: Savimbi expected to lose
the second round of the 1992 election and the fighting im-
mediately resumed. One of the reasons why this settlement did
not last may have been the lack of a system that realistically
enabled both parties to share power (although as we are seeing
16
1.4 Democracy and Conflict

Management
at the time this publication goes to press, August 1998, it may

not have been the only reason).
Democracy, like any other political system, is not without its
flaws in this imperfect world. But in the absence of a better alter-
native, experience from around the world convinces us that de-
mocratic structures, in their myriad permutations, can offer an
effective means for the peaceful handling of deep-rooted differ-
ence through inclusive, just and accountable social frameworks.
Democratic systems of government have a degree of legitimacy,
inclusiveness, flexibility and capacity for constant adaptation
that enables deep-rooted conflicts to be managed peacefully.
Moreover, by building norms of behaviour of negotiation, com-
promise, and co-operation amongst political actors, democracy
itself has a pacifying effect on the nature of political relations
between people and between governments.
Despite the importance of democracy and democratic solu-
tions, however, poorly designed democratic institutions can also
inflame communal conflicts rather than ameliorate them. And
the introduction of “democratic” politics can easily be used to
mobilize ethnicity, turning elections into “us” versus “them” con-
flicts. In deeply divided societies, a combination of majoritarian
political institutions and elections can often make things worse.
Other democratic institutions that lend themselves towards divi-
sive, yes or no political campaigns, such as referendums, can also
have negative effects in divided societies. That is why basic
democratic values such as pluralism, tolerance, inclusiveness,
negotiation, and compromise are keys to building lasting settle-
ments to conflicts. Often, the institutional embodiment of these
values requires institutions that emphasize different features
than simple winner-take-all majority rule: features such as power
sharing, autonomy, proportionality, forms of group recognition,
and so on. These themes will reappear throughout this hand-
book.
1.4 Democracy and Conflict Management
The second theme of this handbook concerns moving away
from thinking about the resolution of conflict, towards a more
pragmatic interest in conflict management. This is an important
distinction. Conflict resolution suggests the ending or removal of a
conflict. The implication is that conflict is a negative phenome-
non, which should be resolved, ended, and eradicated. On the
contrary, conflict can be positive as well as negative. Conflict is
the interaction of different and opposing aspirations and goals
17
1.4 Democracy and
Conflict Management
in which disputes are processed, but not definitively resolved. It

is a necessary part of healthy democratic debate and dialogue,
provided it remains within the boundaries of the commonly
accepted “rules of the democratic game”. The violent expression
of conflict is its destructive side. But conflict can be the starting
point for energizing social change and improvement. Conflict
management, then, is the positive and constructive handling of
difference and divergence. Rather than advocating methods for
removing conflict, this handbook addresses the more realistic
question of managing conflict: how to deal with it in a construc-
tive way, how to bring opposing sides together in a co-operative
process, how to design a practical, achievable, co-operative sys-
tem for the constructive management of difference.
Democracy operates This handbook is relatively unusual in putting a premium
as a conflict upon the need for negotiated settlements that are based on
democratic outcomes. But there are good historical reasons for
management system
skepticism about the track record of negotiated settlements to
without recourse to deep-rooted conflicts. Scholars point to 20th century experience
violence. that reflects the fact that only 15 per cent of internal conflicts
end in negotiated settlements. Most have ended in military vic-
tories. Moreover, many (roughly half) of those that have ended
in negotiations fail within five years (disputants return to the
battlefield, as they did in Sudan in 1984 following a peace ac-
cord that had been reached in 1972). For this reason, some
scholars point to partition as the only answer to identity-based
conflict. However, in the post-Cold War period, there have clear-
ly been many more settlements to violent internal conflicts than
in the past, and almost half of the internal conflicts that have
ceased in the last eight years ended through negotiation. We
know intuitively that negotiated settlements are much more like-
ly in the post-Cold War era than before. Moreover, even when
military victory occurs (as in Zaire/Democratic Republic of Con-
go), issues of democracy continue to be raised making a resump-
tion of conflict far more likely. Although it is important to keep
the historical record in mind, recent experience shows a clear
swing towards negotiated settlements in which issues of demo-
cracy building are paramount.
Our emphasis on democracy is not an ideological conviction.
On the contrary, it is a pragmatic argument based on wide expe-
rience and study. Democracy is presented in this handbook not
only as a guiding principle, but as a workable system for the pos-
itive management of conflict. Our definition of democracy is a
18
1.4 Democracy and Conflict

Management
practical one. For a system of government to be considered de-

mocratic, it must combine three essential conditions: meaning-
ful competition for political power amongst individuals and orga-
nized groups; inclusive participation in the selection of leaders
and policies, at least through free and fair elections; and a level
of civil and political liberties sufficient to ensure the integrity of
political competition and participation. Participation and con-
testation are crucial: while democracy can take many forms, no
system can be called democratic without a meaningful level of
both.
A 1993 study of 233 internal conflicts around the world found
that democracies had a far better record of peacefully managing
such conflicts than alternative systems. The evidence for the
“democratic peace” proposition – the empirical fact that demo-
cracies are far less likely to go to war with each other than other
regime types – lends further support to this relationship bet-
ween conflict and democracy. Authoritarian or totalitarian sys-
tems simply do not have the institutions by which such conflicts
can be peacefully expressed and resolved. They generally try to
deal with such conflicts by ignoring or denying them, by sup-
pressing them or by attempting to eliminate them. While some
conflicts can indeed be controlled in this way, albeit usually at
severe cost, deep-rooted conflicts generally cannot. The type of
fundamental issues of identity and cultural integrity inherent in
such conflicts mean that almost nothing, short of mass expul-
sions or genocide, will make them disappear. The ethnic con-
flict that erupted in the former Yugoslavia in 1990, for example,
had been suppressed and held in check for almost 50 years dur-
ing the years of the Eastern Bloc, but it was always present and
unresolved. Authoritarian systems can present an illusion of
short-term stability, but are unlikely to be sustainable over the
long term.
Under a democracy, by contrast, disputes arise, are processed,
debated and reacted to, rather than being resolved definitively
and permanently. All outcomes are temporary, as the loser today
may be the winner tomorrow. Unlike other systems, democratic
government permits grievances to be expressed openly and res-
ponded to. In short, democracy operates as a conflict manage-
ment system without recourse to violence. It is this ability to han-
dle conflicts without having to suppress them or be engulfed by
them which distinguishes democratic government from its ma-
jor alternatives. This does not mean that democracy is perfect,
19
1.5 Addressing the Real
Causes of Conflict
or that democratic governance will itself lead to peaceful out-

comes. There are a number of cases of democratic institutions
being hastily “transplanted” to post-conflict societies without
taking root, or with a subsequent resumption of hostilities – the
case of Burundi, for example, or Cambodia. But it is equally true
that these cases have many lessons in terms of how deals are
struck and which choices are made that are of crucial importance
to building a sustainable outcome. Democracy is often messy,
incremental, and difficult, but it is also by far the best hope of
building sustainable settlements to most of the conflicts being
fought around the world today.
Box 1
THEMES OF THIS HANDBOOK
Three central themes dominate this handbook:
1. Importance of Democratic Institutions
Democracy provides the foundation for building an
effective and lasting settlement to internal conflicts.
Therefore making appropriate choices about democratic
institutions – forms of devolution or autonomy, electoral
system design, legislative bodies, judicial structures, and
so on – is crucial in building an enduring and peaceful
settlement.
2. Conflict Management, not Resolution
There needs to be move away from thinking about the
resolution of conflict towards a more pragmatic interest
in conflict management. This handbook addresses the
more realistic question of managing conflict: how to
deal with it in a constructive way, how to bring
opposing sides together in a co-operative process, how
to design a practical, achievable, co-operative system for
the constructive management of difference.
3. The Importance of Process
The process by which parties reach an outcome impacts
significantly on the quality of the outcome. Attention
must be paid to every aspect of the process of
negotiations in order to reach a durable outcome.
1.5 Addressing the Real Causes of Conflict

Conflict management is one of the most difficult and com-
plex tasks that can face human beings, both individually and col-
20
1.5 Addressing the Real Causes

of Conflict
lectively. Even without time-pressures and political tensions, it is

a supreme challenge. But in the real world, such factors are al-
ways present. Their effect is manifest as intense pressure to pro-
duce results, irrespective of the difficulty of the task. The near-
irresistible temptation is to respond by simplifying the task, and
focusing on surfaces and symptoms, searching for the fastest way
to some result. But speed does not equate with quality. A sim-
plistic approach cannot wholly succeed in addressing a complex
problem. The kind of conflict we are addressing here – that
which results in prolonged violence, that which comes about
A shift in focus beyond
over deep-seated and profound differences – is caused at a much
deeper level. Hence the term deep-rooted conflict. If conflict were the immediate to the
simply a surface phenomenon, it would be easily dealt with at longer term, a
the surface level. But deep-rooted conflict demands deep-rooted reorientation from the
conflict management. A doctor who treats a patient’s symptoms surface symptoms to
may bring short-term relief of suffering. But a doctor who treats their underlying
and cures the underlying illness that caused the symptoms
cause, is vital for both
brings a long-term solution to the patient’s problem. In conflict
management there needs to be a shift of focus, beyond the sur- the short-term process
face approach of treating symptoms, to a deeper level where un- and the long-term
derlying illnesses are directly addressed. future.
However, any doctor will rightly argue that treating symptoms
is a vital humanitarian act, bringing short-term relief of suffer-
ing. A negotiation process that fails abysmally in its attempt to
design a long-term settlement, but achieves a six-month cease-
fire, has saved many lives. We must therefore not decry the gen-
uine value of short-term measures, especially in situations of des-
peration and suffering. But the point is simply that short-term
pain relief should not be confused with long-term cure. This is
not to blame politicians and negotiators for yielding to pressures
that are part and parcel of political life but simply to acknow-
ledge that, within the pressures of the situation, a shift in focus
beyond the immediate to the longer term, a reorientation from
the surface symptoms to their underlying cause, is vital for both
the short-term process and the long-term future. Failure to
make this shift will inevitably harm the entire process as well as
the future result. Ultimately, it may even make the situation
worse than before. The challenge then, for domestic and interna-
tional actors, is to seriously consider the temptation of short-
term stability (and quick rewards and success) and move towards
the long-term objective of a sustainable settlement.
21
1.6 Process and
Outcome
1.6 Process and Outcome

The third theme of this handbook is that the process of design-
ing negotiations is critical to the success and durability of the
outcome. In thinking about the search for a settlement, a useful
distinction can be made between process and outcome. Process is
the business of negotiation and dialogue. If conflicting parties
now need to discuss the elements of a solution, how exactly
should that discussion be structured? For example, would the
intervention of a third party be useful or distracting? What types
of third-party intervention might be used, and how have they
worked, or failed, in the past? Who exactly should participate in
the talks process? Leaders only? Political parties? Non-govern-
Process asks: how do mental agencies? Outside observers? Would a time-limit on talks
we get to a solution? help or hinder the process? Should the talks be secret or public?
What are the issues involved in choosing a venue for negotia-
Outcome asks: what
tions? These and many other pertinent questions need to be
do we include in that addressed in order to design the optimum process, the one that
solution? offers the best hope of a successful outcome.
The answers depend on the specific situation under discus-
sion. From an analysis of the conflict – identifying its history, its
core issues, its participants, and so on – one identifies the factors
which need to go into the design of a suitable process. From an
overview of many conflicts and peace processes around the
world, this handbook directs readers to the most critical factors
that they will need to consider, and then helps them to find the
answers pertinent to their specific context.
Process involves every aspect of the way parties get to an out-
come. The type of process used, of course, impacts significantly
on the quality of the outcome. In particular, a sound process
helps to contribute to the legitimacy of the outcome. For exam-
ple, if the process employed is an inclusive one, where all parties
who claim an interest in the conflict feel involvement in it, feel
they have been heard and their views respected, and feel that
the process has permitted them to make a contribution to the
ultimate settlement, they are far more motivated to put subse-
quent effort into making that settlement work. In contrast, a
group who feel excluded from the process will be far more like-
ly to question the legitimacy of the settlement and to obstruct
efforts to implement it. So good process not only makes for effi-
cient working practice, it also strengthens the outcome. It is an
essential ingredient for a durable, long-term solution.
Outcome focuses not on the way to reach a solution, but on the
substance of that solution itself. Democratic structures and insti-
22
1.6 Process and Outcome
tutions offer practical components for a successful outcome,

because their democratic nature implies a degree of consensus
and accountability in their implementation. As with good pro-
cess, the design of a sound outcome again lessens the chance of
any party subsequently feeling the solution has been imposed
upon them and thus questioning its legitimacy. What sort of po-
litical structures will be the components of the solution over
which the parties negotiate during the process? What are the va-
rious kinds of democratic institutions that have been negotiated
as settlements in the past? What were their strengths, and their
weaknesses? What roles can outside agents usefully play in imp-
lementing or supporting these institutions? The business of mu-
tually thinking these questions through to agreement will con-
tribute to a better method of building sustainable and just sys-
tems of democratic government. In sum, the sustainability of a
solution depends both on its outcome – its character and its con-
tent – and on the process by which it was agreed.
It is an analytic exercise to separate process and outcome
completely. The distinction is offered as a useful method of con-
centrating on different but equally important aspects of conflict
management. But in reality they are tightly intertwined and in-
terdependent. Bad process will greatly impede agreement. It
can even contribute to ultimate failure, no matter how well de-
signed the outcome, simply because the way in which the talks
were structured may cause friction and distrust and leave at
least some parties questioning the legitimacy of the whole venture.
Likewise the best process cannot guarantee success or sustain-
ability if the outcome is poorly designed, is imposed on some of
the parties or does not satisfy their real interests, no matter how
fairly the process of dialogue was constructed. In practice, some
parties will want assurances on what the broad parameters of the
outcome will be before they agree to talks.
It is worth noting here that many of the conflict situations
which readers will bring to the handbook have attracted the at-
tention and involvement of the international community, in-
creasingly in the form of third-party intervention or mediation.
Third-party intervention can be of significant assistance in a con-
flict situation and is dealt with in more detail in Chapter 3. But
parties need to be aware that there may also be dangers. Third
parties may bring their own agendas, benign or otherwise: their
own substantive interests in the issues of the conflict, perhaps
their own desire for international acclamation as directors of the
peace process, and so on. Mediators may focus too much on
23
1.7 Maximizing
Women’s Participation
process at the expense of outcome and often lack the necessary

expertise in relation to institutional options. In addition, power-
ful intervenors may be tempted to force parties into a superficial
agreement that fails to address underlying interests and needs,
thus simply storing up trouble for the future.
1.7 Maximizing Women’s Participation
In all conflicts, particularly those in which deep-seated identi-
ty issues are prominent, it is the most vulnerable members of
society who often pay the highest cost. One of the characteristics
of contemporary, intra-state conflicts is that the most marginal-
ized social groups – small ethnic minorities, indigenous peoples
and so on – are the most affected. Indeed, in some conflicts it is
these very groups, such as the Kurdish peoples who are often
described as the world’s largest stateless ethnic group, who are
directly targeted as victims.
Women should be Similarly, in almost all contemporary within-state conflicts,
included around the civilians in general, and women and children in particular, fea-
ture disproportionately amongst the casualty list. This makes the
negotiating table
issue of gender a particularly salient feature of peace building.
because their While the aggressors in today’s conflicts, and the armies that
experiences, values fight them, continue to be predominantly male, the high casualty
and priorities, as rates of civilians means that it is often women who bear the brunt
of the consequences of the conflicts, a factor only emphasized by
women, can bring a
the effect of such conflicts on children.
perspective that can
It is therefore vital that any attempt at rebuilding democracy
help find a solution to in the wake of a violent ethnic conflict builds women into the
the conflict. process as much as possible. In fact, in many cases this does not
happen – the same people who started the conflict are also those
who negotiate its end. This has detrimental effects on the long-
term sustainability of a settlement, because vital voices and interests
are not heard. This can be addressed by building gender
considerations into every aspect of the peace process.
In the pre-negotiation phase, for instance, it is important to
identify all constituencies, and to structure the process so as to
maximize their participation. During the negotiations itself, it is
essential that efforts are made to include considerations of gen-
der, both thematically and via the representation of women as
parties to the negotiations – rather than as being observers locked
out of a process driven and dominated by men. During the im-
plementation phase, each and every political institution needs to
be structured such that it incorporates issues of gender and
addresses wider issues of equality. This can take place both at a
24
1.8 Short- and Long-Term Planning
macro-level – through, for example, consideration of issues of

gender and equality when designing political institutions – and
at a more micro-level, via the establishment of specific mecha-
nisms for gender equality (see the specific section on this issue
in Chapter 4).
Beyond such structuring of mechanisms, however, there needs
to be a recognition of the importance of involving women in the
negotiation process because of what they, as women, can bring
to the process of finding peace. Women should be included
around the negotiating table because their experiences, values
and priorities, as women, brings a perspective that is important
and valuable to both process and outcome.
The management of post-conflict democratic peace building There is a need to
is first and foremost the management of political time in a com- balance the necessity
plex and highly volatile context. From the moment peace nego-
of achieving results
tiations start, the pressure is intense on those involved to reach
agreement as quickly as possible. That pressure often becomes from negotiation
irresistible. Time may be very limited. Political demands for fast against the stability
results may be overwhelming. In a context of ongoing violence, and longevity of the
many lives may be at stake. The temptation is to push for super- outcome – a need, in
ficial success at the expense of concentration on the outcome.
The need to reach an agreement – any agreement – becomes other words, to
more important than the quality of the agreement, especially its balance short- and
all-important elements of sustainability and durability. Long- long-term goals.
term stability is sacrificed for short-term expediency. This pres-
sure can build from many sources: a limited window of oppor-
tunity for talks; a tenuous cease-fire agreement that may collapse
without quick results; the influence of outside actors who need
their own results; the limited patience of a constituency who
demand immediate improvements or guarantees; military is-
sues, economic needs and contingencies, and so on.
These pressures are genuine and difficult to resist. Nonethe-
less, time spent in the dialogue phase pays off afterwards. There
is always a trade-off between the urgent pressure for a result in
response to the immediate circumstances, and the time needed
to build a sustainable outcome with long-term stability. A slow-
fast approach to conflict management is one where the initial
stage of reaching agreement is done as slowly as necessary, to en-
sure that the agreement, when reached, is as comprehensive
and detailed as possible. This permits more speed subsequently
in implementing the agreement. By contrast, many agreements
25
1.8 Short- and Long-
Term Planning
are reached in a fast-slow mode: pressure for results encourages

the parties to rush through the negotiation phase and reach a
less than optimum agreement, so that problems remain which
slow down, or altogether obstruct, the implementation phase.
The fast-slow approach was exemplified when, in November
1995, Bosnian leaders endured intensive pressure from their US
hosts during negotiations in Dayton, Ohio. The US agenda –
which included, in significant part, a strong White House desire
for demonstrable negotiating successes in Bosnia, the Middle
East and Northern Ireland – as well as the domestic constituen-
cies of the Bosnian parties, placed a premium on an agreement
being reached. This agenda, coupled with the extreme urgency
of ending a vicious and devastating war, meant that intense pres-
sure was applied on the three Bosnian leaders and their dele-
gates at Dayton not to leave the site without a signed result on
paper. The resulting Dayton Peace Accords were acclaimed as
the framework for a comprehensive settlement of the conflict in
Bosnia. But in the rush to reach an agreement, many details had
to be overlooked. The effect was to sacrifice long-term planning
for short-term results: the insistence on a fast result at the nego-
tiation stage simply piled up problems which remained to obs-
truct and delay the implementation of the Accords (see Bosnia
Case Study). On the other hand, it stopped the war and the killing,
which was a great achievement. It is not suggested that these two
approaches are necessarily exclusive, rather that they need to be
balanced as much as possible.
In some important ways, the South African constitutional ne-
gotiations of the early 1990s stand as a successful example of the
reverse, a slow-fast approach. The negotiation process was at
times painstakingly slow, not least because of the wide range of
participating groups and factions as well as the complexity of the
issues. Undoubtedly, an outcome could have been designed
much more rapidly between just the major participants, the gov-
ernment and the African National Congress (ANC), and by leav-
ing certain aspects for later resolution. But the apparently inter-
minable talking between so many parties and the variety of
issues addressed, which made the negotiation stage so slow, paid
considerable rewards in the implementation phase, when the
multilateral nature of the talks made the subsequent “sell” much
faster and avoided breakdowns as a result of “constituency lag”
between leaders and their supporters. When eventually signed,
26
the legitimacy of the outcome was far stronger than a more

exclusive version would have been.
Perhaps in an ideal world, conflicting parties would have the
luxury of a slow-slow approach – one where every stage of the set-
tlement process is given sufficient time to attend to every detail.
But such luxury is rarely available. Indeed, the most frequent
pressure is for a fast-fast approach, the worst possible scenario,
where there is no time to do justice to any aspect of the conflict
management process. Avoiding both of these unlikely or unpro-
ductive extremes, we simply highlight the tension between fast-
slow and slow-fast, and emphasize the long-term value of the latter.
There is a need, then, to balance the necessity of achieving
results from negotiation against the stability and longevity of the
outcome, a need, in other words, to balance short- and long-
term goals. So a compromise that may appear to be the best
achievable result in the urgent present tense of the negotiating
process can often prove too weak to be sustainable in the future.
The effect is simply to postpone, rather than solve, problems.
While recognizing the difficulty of the advice, experience from
around the world repeatedly teaches the value of retaining a
strong sense of future ramifications during the design stage.
Attention paid to detail in that earlier negotiation phase will
save much time, and possibly the whole settlement, during the
subsequent phase of implementation.
REFERENCES AND FURTHER READING

Diamond, Larry, Juan Linz and Seymour Martin Lipset.
1995. Politics in Developing Countries: Comparing Experiences
with Democracy. Boulder and London: Lynne Reiner
Publishers.
Gurr, Ted Robert. 1993. Minorities at Risk: A Global View of
Ethnopolitical Conflicts. Washington, DC: United States
Institute of Peace Press.
Huntington, Samuel P. 1991. The Third Wave: Democratization
in the Late Twentieth Century. Norman and London: University
of Oklahoma Press.
Przeworski, Adam. 1991. Democracy and the Market: Political
and Economic Reforms in Eastern Europe and Latin America.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Ramsbotham, Oliver and Tom Woodhouse. 1996.
Humanitarian Intervention in Contemporary Conflict: A
Reconceptualisation. Cambridge: Polity Press.
27
The Changing Nature of
Conflict and Conflict
Management
Ray, James Lee. April 1997. “The Democratic Path to Peace”,

Journal of Democracy, vol. 8, no. 2, pp. 49–64.
Reid, Ann. 1993. “Conflict Resolution in Africa: Lessons
from Angola”, INR Foreign Affairs Brief. Washington DC:
Bureau of Intelligence and Research, U.S. Department of
State, April 6.
Sollenberg, Margareta and Peter Wallensteen. 1997. “Major
Armed Conflicts”, in SIPRI Yearbook 1997: Armaments,
Disarmament and International Security. Oxford: Oxford
University Press for SIPRI.
Sollenberg, Margareta. ed. 1997. States in Armed Conflict 1996.
Report no. 46. Uppsala, Sweden: Uppsala University,
Department of Peace and Conflict Research.
28
Democracy and Deep-Rooted Conflict: Options for
Analysing
Deep-Rooted
Conflict
2
Each conflict requires
C H A P T E R
theconflicts
Most crafting
featureof well-
complex interactions of
designed structures
different forces. Each
requires the crafting of
that are purposely
well-designed structures
oriented
that are purposelyto the needs
oriented to the needs of
theof the specific
specific situation.
situation.
Analysis is a necessary prelude to problem-
solving. This chapter focuses on the process of
analysing a conflict in all its aspects – from
looking at how conflicts in general are
expressed (macro-level) to examining how a
particular conflict can be understood by
examining its component parts (micro-level).
2.1–2.5 Observations about the nature and analysis of deep-root-

ed conflict
2.6 Process of analysing a specific conflict
2.7 Factors for analysis in order to draw out all necessary
information
2.8 Analytic tools for constructing a framework for that
information
2.9 Conclusion
Box 2 Analysing a Conflict: Three Approaches (p. 40)

David Bloomfield,
Yash Ghai and
Ben Reilly
Analysing Deep-Rooted Conflict
2.1 Introduction
T hroughout this handbook, our approach is based on an

assumption that democratic governance is key to devel-
oping sustainable settlements. But the relationship of
many deep-rooted conflicts to democracy is complex, and in-
deed democracy can encourage or even aggravate civil conflicts.
The political mobilization of people for electoral or other pur-
poses is frequently achieved by narrow identity appeals (as de-
monstrated, again and again, in Sri Lanka, India, Fiji, the former
Yugoslavia and elsewhere). In that sense mass politics, associat-
ed with the rise of modern democratic states, has given a partic- A “one size fits all”
ularly sharp edge to identity. Ethnic animosities can often lie conflict management
dormant until groups perceive themselves to be competing in a package cannot be
“zero-sum” game for resources, rights or territory. Issues of iden-
tity often provide a convenient cloak for other issues that con- prescribed for all
cern the distribution of these resources. conflicts.
Most conflicts feature complex interactions of different for-
ces. Some are sustained by the separation of hostile groups, so
that antagonisms are reinforced by ignorance and suspicion
fueled by a lack of contact between contending parties. The
traditional approach of the international community in such
situations has been the imposition of “peace-keeping forces”
between the groups – such as those stationed in Cyprus, Bosnia
or Lebanon – a useful but blunt and surface-oriented instru-
ment which often does not address the underlying needs of the
groups in question. In other cases, the problem is not separation
but proximity and day-to-day interaction that breeds mutual
antagonisms – such as in relations between Malays, Chinese and
Indians in Malaysia or between indigenous and Indo-Fijians in
Fiji. All of these cases represent relatively familiar types of deep-
rooted internal conflicts, and all of them require different
approaches and different types of political institutions to man-
age disputes and build a sustainable peace. Further, each
requires the crafting of well-designed structures that are pur-
posely oriented to the needs of the specific situation. It is there-
fore surprising that sometimes a “one size fits all” conflict
management package is still prescribed by even the most informed
of practitioners.
31
2.2 Conflict as Both
Positive and Negative
2.2 Conflict as Both Positive and Negative

Cultural or ethnic claims and identities are not always nega-
tive. Identity itself can act as both a constructive force and a de-
stabilizing one. Nationalist movements involved in the construc-
tion of new states during the struggle for independence, for
example, are often based on dynamic combinations of both identity
and nationalism. The emotional and cultural bonds thus forged
have proved to be a major factor in ensuring the legitimacy and
support of many potentially fragile new states.
Similarly, basic identity-related factors such as religious and
ethnic affiliations, for example, are often of fundamental impor-
tance to the psychic and moral well-being of communities. Cul-
tural identity is a vital and enriching part of human life; and cul-
Conflict is one of the tural diversity can be as energizing as it can be threatening. Many
most powerfully of today’s functioning multicultural societies – such as Canada,
positive factors for Australia and the United States – have built their success on
change in a society. being a melting pot of many different cultures and religions.
Elsewhere, divided communities with distinct religious or cultu-
Without conflict, we
ral traditions, as in Belgium, Mauritius, Trinidad and Tobago,
would have and so on, have nonetheless been able to maintain competitive
stagnation. but cordial relations between different groups.
While such differences can lend themselves to political ma-
nipulation by ethnic entrepreneurs, who seek to mobilize and capi-
talize on ethnic differences for their personal or political gain,
this exploitation is likely to be successful only in specific circum-
stances – such as where a community perceives reasons to fear
the policies or activities of other communities, or experiences its
economic or social position as clearly inferior to that of other
groups with little prospect of amelioration, or where its abiding
experience is one of disempowerment and vulnerability. Some-
times such manipulation results in a genuine galvanization of
the community into an energizing force for positive and neces-
sary social change; sometimes it fails to move beyond a surface
reaction to intimidation and violence. Just as denial of identity-
related claims can be a way to harass other groups, assertions of
them – such as civil rights campaigns – can be a useful device
to secure more justice and equity. Ethnic mobilization is a
doubled-edged sword.
In the same way, conflict itself is not necessarily a negative
process. Indeed, conflict is one of the most powerfully positive
factors for change in a society. Conflict tells us that something is
wrong; conflict is the generator of change and improvement.
32
2.3 Patterns of Deep-Rooted

Conflict
Without conflict, we would have stagnation. The nature of com-

petitive representative democracy, for example, involves a cer-
tain degree of conflict between opposing forces, ideologies and
parties. This is healthy because this conflict takes place within a
forum of bounded behaviour – there are “rules of the game”
that need to be observed. This handbook is based on the
assumption that even very intense conflicts are capable of being
managed, given the right combination of procedures and insti-
tutions, in a way that is both peaceful and sustainable. But we do
not pretend that it is easy, or even likely. We simply argue that it
is possible. This is especially the case in the immediate post-con-
flict period, where negotiations between conflicting groups are
beginning to take place. It is precisely in this interim period,
where new patterns of interaction are possible, when parties are
most amenable to the consideration of novel alternatives and
different solutions, that the best hope for making sustainable
settlements lies.
2.3 Patterns of Deep-Rooted Conflict
Three main areas of dispute often appear to dovetail with Three main areas of
identity-related issues. The first are broadly economic factors. Eco- dispute often appear
nomic slumps are often accompanied by an upsurge in inter-eth-
to dovetail with
nic conflict. The post-communist movement from a controlled
economy to a free market in Eastern Europe and parts of Asia identity-related issues:
and Africa in recent years has created a host of social problems economic insecurity,
that provide fertile breeding ground for sectarian sentiment. cultural conflicts and
Similarly, the racist anti-immigration movements which have ari- territorial disputes.
sen in a number of western countries over the past decade have
their root causes in increasing economic insecurity for many of
the established population, particularly those at the lower end of
the socio-economic ladder. In other areas, there are deliberate
policies that discriminate economically for or against certain
groups. These include the “affirmative action” policies for cer-
tain castes in India, or for bumiputra (literally “sons of the soil”,
i.e., Malays) in Malaysia, which have created resentment among
those who feel such policies threaten their place in the econo-
mic system. Elsewhere, deliberate economic discrimination
against what are seen as a privileged group, such as the Tamils
in Sri Lanka, has been evident.
A second group of conflicts revolve around questions of cul-
ture. A classic issue is the question of minority language rights or
religious freedoms. The conflict over language rights in the Bal-
tic states between the local and Russian-speaking populations
33
2.4 National and
International Factors in
described in Chapter 4 is a good example of this. Often, such

conflicts are manifested via a demand for some form of group
autonomy, such as culturally specific schooling for minorities,
freedom to establish communal places of worship, or applica-
tion of traditional or religious law. Many multi-ethnic countries
have faced this issue in recent times, as demands for cultural
autonomy increase and “assimilationist” policies are increasing-
ly regarded with suspicion. More unusual variants of this issue
have occurred in demands for culturally specific forms of law by
threatened indigenous groups trying to maintain their own cul-
tural integrity (e.g., punishments of criminal offences by tradi-
tional forms such as “banishment” or even spearing in some
aboriginal cultures).
The third broad area of conflicts concerns disputes over terri-
tory. Territorial disputes are likely to mesh with ethnic ones
when ethnic groups are territorially concentrated. In such cases,
the manifestation of self-determination is often secession from
the existing state altogether. Secession requires the dismember-
ment of the existing state, and for this reason has often been
strongly opposed both by dominant members of an existing
state and by the international community. If a state is to stay
together under such circumstances, it requires the use of innov-
ative institutional arrangements that deliver forms of devolution
of power, federalism or autonomy. In Spain and Canada, for
example, “asymmetric” federal arrangements for the Basque
and Quebecois regions respectively have been used to try and
dampen calls for secession, while federalism has been promoted
as an institution of conflict management in countries as diverse
as India, Malaysia, Germany, Nigeria, South Africa, and Switzer-
land.
2.4 National and International Factors in Deep-Rooted
Conflict
Many of the world’s most bitter deep-rooted internal conflicts
have a significant international dimension. The fact that the
boundaries of a state, particularly in post-colonial societies,
rarely match the boundaries of a “nation” – an identity group –
means that it is rare for domestic conflicts to stay entirely within
the boundaries of the state. The Sri Lankan conflict has been
fueled by the proximity and involvement of India; the Northern
Ireland conflict by the competing claims of Britain and the Irish
Republic and the involvement of Irish Americans; the Cyprus
conflict is intertwined with the dispute between Turkey and
34
2.4 National and International

Factors in Deep-Rooted Conflict
Greece, and so on. Understanding these international dimensions

is key to any analysis of the conflict itself.
Tension between “settler” and “indigenous” groups is present
in almost all states in which such terms are meaningful. Indian
settlers in Fiji; Chinese and Indians in Malaysia; Russians in the
Baltics and Central Asian Republics: all are examples of groups
who are seen as being less than fully legitimate members of a
multi-ethnic state by their indigenous counterparts. The legacy
of colonialism thus plays a role in many of the current eruptions
of identity-related conflict.
2.4.1 Decolonization
The process of decolonization after World War Two left a vast It is rare for domestic
range of disputed territories and arbitrary boundaries in the conflicts to stay
developing world, leading inevitably to conflict over the adjust-
ment of boundaries and over the legitimacy of states formed
entirely within the
during colonization. Post-colonial polities suddenly found them- boundaries of the state
selves in the position of sovereign states, but often with too since the boundaries
diverse an ethnic mix to build easily the shared values and iden- of a state rarely match
tities that might make a functioning nation. More often, their
populations consisted of more than one nation, or parts of sev- the boundaries of a
eral. Given the potent impact of the decolonization process “nation”, an identity
upon ethnic antagonisms, it is no surprise to find that “ethno- group.
political” conflicts have been steadily increasing since the “winds
of change” in the early 1960s led to independence for former
colonial states in Africa, Asia and the Pacific.
One example among many is the legacy left in Western Sa-
hara by the departing Spanish in 1975: an artificial frontier
between Morocco and “Spanish Sahara” which became the sub-
ject of a long dispute between the Moroccan state and the
Polisario Front, the army of the Saharawi people. Put simply,
their sense of themselves as a community – their ethnic identity
– contradicted the arbitrary maplines drawn by the colonizer,
and they set about correcting the map as soon as they were free
to do so. A difference of identity, combined with a dispute over
territory, resulted in violent conflict, which remains unresolved
today. Similarly, as Britain left the Indian subcontinent in 1947,
bitter fighting erupted between identity groups organized along
religious lines. The result was the partitioning of the area bet-
ween India and Pakistan. But, as so often, simple partition has
failed to satisfy the underlying root-causes of the conflict: in
Kashmir and elsewhere, fighting continues as peoples contest
their identity and disagree over self-determination versus
territorial integrity.
35
2.4 National and
International Factors in
2.4.2 End of the Cold War

The end of the Cold War further intensified these conflicts
over boundaries. The Soviet Union disintegrated into multiple
states. Its influence, which had served to glue together imperfect
nation-states within its realm, dissipated and permitted the rise
of ethnic frustrations and tensions which expressed themselves
in bitter conflicts over Yugoslavia, Georgia, Chechnya and else-
where. The dissolution of the Soviet Union also left large popu-
lations of Russian speakers in a number of new republics in the
Baltics, Eastern Europe and Central Asia, many of whom be-
came a focus for the long-standing grievances of the indigenous
populations. Discrimination and conflict between Russians and
local populations became a potent issue in a number of these
states, with language and citizenship rights an area of particular
concern.
2.4.3 The state in crisis
Additionally, the state itself has been facing a crisis for some
time. The deep contradictions or anachronisms of the nation-
state have led it now to face a crisis of legitimization. To retain
its legitimate position of power, a state must inspire some sense
of shared identity among all its diverse population, as some have
argued is the case in India. It must also ensure the participation
of all groups in the affairs of the state as well as equity in the
sharing of its resources. Identity groups tend to demand self-
determination, or assert their rights to be treated equally with all
citizens, precisely when a state is not fulfilling these objectives.
Democratic states suffer these problems just as others do: demo-
cracy is no guarantee of a conflict-free existence. But democratic
societies tend to have built-in institutional mechanisms and the
requisite flexibility to manage this kind of conflict by non-violent
means.
But what turns such ethnically based dissatisfaction into actu-
al violent conflict? Unscrupulous leaders have realized the value
of mobilizing dissent along the powerful fault-lines of race, reli-
gion, language and so on. The ideas of human and civil rights,
of self-expression and self-determination, have flourished in the
hearts of many people, permeating societies and making oppres-
sion more difficult and its resistance more energized. Indeed,
self-determination can often be used by dissidents to express
their case and mobilize their resources along ethnic divisions.
Certainly, increased international media attention can raise the
temperature of dispute, as it can help to sustain rigid positions
within a conflict.
36
2.5 Difficulties in Managing

Identity-Related Conflicts
With intra-state conflict, most often the state itself is a dispu-

ting party, even a major source of violence. This makes internal
processes for conflict regulation difficult, since state organs may
be delegitimized by their involvement in the conflict. Often gov-
ernments will be much more powerful than the rebels they face:
such asymmetry of power can mitigate the chances of bringing
the sides together, and can encourage both sides to strengthen
themselves as far as possible by violence or its threat, prior to
entering negotiations. A referee is difficult to find within the
state who will hold the respect of both sides. The type of inclu-
sive, power sharing and devolutionary mechanisms examined in
detail in Chapter 4 are thus particularly necessary to building a
sustainable settlement.
2.5 Difficulties in Managing Identity-Related Conflicts

2.5.1 Indivisibility
A central problem in trying to manage or transform identity-
related disputes is the “indivisibility” of such conflicts: they are
often not amenable to split-the-difference, cake-cutting soluti-
ons based on compromise. Conflicts based upon historical iden-
tities, religious beliefs, language or symbolic territory are partic-
ularly difficult: it is hard to compromise over a question as basic
as the nature of the one true God, for example, or whether a
particular sacred site is to be the property of one group or
another (e.g., the conflict between some Moslems and Hindus
in India over the Ayodhya mosque). Moreover, the very nature
of identity-related appeals, what one scholar calls the “relentless
drumbeat of ethnic propaganda”, itself tends to distort the usual
modes of political discussion.
2.5.2 Escalation
A second problem is the cyclical nature of many deep-rooted Two recurrent
conflicts. Mobilization of groups by one side of a conflict typi- problems make it
cally leads to a corresponding counter-mobilization by their op- extraordinarily
ponents. Escalation of a conflict on one side almost guarantees
difficult to manage
a countervailing reaction on the other. The actions of one
group are responded to by their opponents: violence begets vio- identity-related
lence, and the conflict steadily escalates in a series of tit-for-tat disputes: their
exchanges, as in Burundi. The originally divisive issues get aug- indivisibility and
mented, often even replaced, by new and more intense issues their tendency towards
arising out of this intensification process. Such issues are ame- escalation.
nable to manipulation by leaders and politicians, who may use
them to mobilize communities on ethnic or other fault-lines. It
37
2.6 Analysing Conflict
is extremely hard to break these cyclical patterns and de-escalate

back to the original issues.
2.5.3 Leadership
Managing deep-rooted conflicts requires far-sighted leader-
ship. Just as many conflicts are exacerbated by ethnic entrepre-
neurs who fan the flames of group animosities, so to bring con-
flicts to a sustainable settlement requires leaders who are pre-
pared to do just that – lead. To do this, they must often be ahead
of the sentiments of a large portion of their followers in coun-
selling for peace, and they must have the authority to carry their
supporters with them through difficult times. This is especially
difficult when the leaders at the negotiating table are often the
very same ones who provoked or maintained the conflicts in the
first place. It also requires leaders to put the long-term interests
of their nation in achieving a durable settlement before the
short-term gains that could be achieved by prolonging the con-
flict. This handbook carries a number of instances of such be-
haviour, with the examples of South African leaders Nelson
Mandela and F. W. de Klerk particularly apposite. This is not to
suggest that leaders will do other than make rational decisions
about their own group’s core interests when negotiating a set-
tlement. All the negotiating techniques outlined in Chapter 3
are based upon this assumption, as are the designs of the
democratic institutions in Chapter 4.
Our attention now turns from the macro-level to the micro-
level, from looking at how conflicts in general are expressed, to
examining how a particular conflict can be understood by exam-
ining its component parts. Successful analysis of a specific con-
flict in terms of its generic structure enables us to diagnose
appropriate methods to successfully negotiate a lasting settle-
ment.

Before an outcome to conflict can be considered, before even
a process to reach that outcome can be designed, we need to have
a clear view of the conflict. That sounds like stating the obvious.
Actors in a conflict are intimately acquainted with their particu-
lar conflict, from possibly a lifetime of involvement in it. They
have consciously struggled with it, and with attempts to end it,
for prolonged periods of time.
This in-depth knowledge of the conflict is vital. But, for com-
pletely understandable reasons, combatants in prolonged and
38
deep-rooted conflict have a particular view of the causes, dynam-

ics and effects of their conflict. For very good protective reasons,
they have a partisan view of things. This is as it should be: their
job has been to be partisan, to represent, support, direct and
sustain their community and their struggle.
But we are assuming with this handbook that the conflict
phase is reaching a hiatus. Negotiations are at least looming, if
not actually in process. To move straight from struggle into dia-
logue, with the same aims and attitudes intact, will almost guar-
antee failure. Completely partisan approaches will produce com-
pletely competitive talks, with each side still as committed to win-
ning the peace as they were to winning the war. Such negotia-
tions are simply war by other means. But peace, by definition, is
Conflict analysis is not
not winnable in the same terms as war. To make negotiations
work, we must supplement competition with co-operation. Ne- about learning
gotiation, by its very nature, implies movement: it is a process in something new. It is
which people, their attitudes and their positions move and change. about understanding
Negotiation is not merely a matter of convincing the opposition
the same thing in
that your position is right: it demands a degree of co-operation
with that opposition to move creatively from stalemate towards a different and deeper
new position. ways.
To engender that co-operation, in oneself or in others, is not
easy, nor automatic. It requires, as a first step, a wider view of the
conflict than the strictly partisan one that served during the war.
It is a basic requirement of conflict management to try to better
understand each other’s motivations. Not to agree with each
other’s viewpoint, not to give up any cherished beliefs about the
causes and blame involved in the conflict, but simply to ap-
proach an understanding of the opposite viewpoints, without
necessarily in any way endorsing them.
This requires adopting new models for thinking by the actors:
looking at their subject matter through new lenses. Conflict ana-
lysis here is not about learning something new (although that
might happen). It is about understanding the same thing in dif-
ferent and deeper ways. This section offers some lenses to facili-
tate such understanding. One lens concerns how we actually go
about the analytic process itself. Quite irrespective of the
content of the conflict and the subsequent analysis, this model
argues that our attitude and approach in coming to analysis
itself significantly affects the results. In brief, there are three ways
for actors to analyse their conflict: the adversarial way (blaming every-
thing on the other side); the reflexive way (looking inward to reflect
on one’s own sides position in the conflict); and the integrative way
39
(looking both at one’s own side and at the need to also under-
stand the views of the opposition).
The latter approach (integrative) is really one that proposes
that there be movement away from the entrenched attitudes and
positions of the parties towards a situation where the real needs
and interests of the parties are focused on. There needs to be
an acceptance by the parties that there should be movement
from what is known as “positional-based” negotiation to “inter-
est-based” negotiation. In reality, however, the ebb and flow of
negotiations tends to take the parties through a number of phases,
attitudes and positions that will impact on their tactics.
Depending on the nature and maturity of the parties, they
will generally include a range of elements from all three
approaches in their negotiation strategy.
Box 2
ANALYSING A CONFLICT: THREE APPROACHES
There are three ways for actors to analyse their conflict.
Typically, the ebb and flow of negotiations will include
a range of elements from all three approaches.
Adversarial. Viewing the conflict as “us vs. them”, either
win or lose, all or nothing.
Reflective. Looking inward and reflecting on the hurt
and pain the conflict has caused and considering the
best way to achieve real goals.
Integrative. Looking both at one’s own side and the
need to understand the views of the opponents.
Entering negotiations, as Chapter 3 will emphasize, involves

swallowing the bitter pill of co-operating with what used to be
the enemy. In preparation for this, assembling a broad analysis
of the conflict is a crucial first step. If one is truly committed to
negotiation as a way of solving the problem, then a step away
from adversarial approaches is a necessary starting point. The
closer one can get to an integrative analysis, the better the
prognosis for those negotiations.
One of the results of the integrative approach is that it en-
courages creative negotiation. Parties are more likely to build on
each other’s proposals than be preoccupied with advancing
their own. A full analytic understanding of the conflict is both a
prerequisite for going into the process of negotiation – negotia-
40
2.7 Factors for Analysis
tors need to know their subject matter – and a valuable resource

to keep in mind during negotiation. First, it is important to
grasp and analyse all the relevant factors that go to make up the
conflict and give it its shape.

In this section, our aim is not to solve the conflict, merely to
draw out all the elements that must be part of the subsequent
solution. Outlined below are some of the questions that need to
be asked and answered. Consideration of these various elements
will better equip negotiators to devise appropriate strategies to
manage the conflict.
ACTORS
Who are the various actors, internal and external, in the The first step in
conflict? analysis is acquiring
– What are the identity groups involved? How do they all the raw data,
define themselves, and what are the core features that making sure
make up their identity?
everything relevant is
– Who are the real leaders of these groups? Are they
politicians, soldiers, religious leaders, intellectuals, etc.?
included, the better to
What pressures are they subject to from followers and see the scope and
opponents? shape of the problem.
– How do these identity groups mobilize? How do they
pursue their needs as communities (i.e., political
parties, paramilitary groups, armies, etc.)? What
alliances have they forged? What interests do they serve
(external, regional, global)? What pressures are they
subject to?
– What factions exist within parties?
– Are there spoilers (groups opposed to the peace
process)? How great a threat do they represent? What
resources exist to deal with them?
– Are there single-issue groups (those who represent a
strong opinion on a particular aspect of the conflict)?
Are there actors who remain internal geographically,
but are removed from, or opposed to, the conflict
(e.g., peace groups, business interests. etc.)?
– Who are the external actors (governments, states,
regional blocs, etc.)? Which outside interests and groups
affect the conflict?
41
ISSUES
What issues are involved in the conflict?

– What issues arise over the distribution of economic,
social and political resources?
– What is the conflict about in political terms?
– Is there discrimination at work in the distribution
process?
UNDERLYING FACTORS
What are the needs of the parties? What are their fears?
– What drives each of the parties and why? (For example,
do they really want secession, or is it an expression of a
deeper need for security?)
– What do they fear under the present situation? What
are the fears each group currently has of the other
groups?
SCOPE
What is the extent of the conflict’s effect, both within and

outside the conflict area?
– What is the scope of the conflict in its effects on the
population? Which sections suffer most, and why? Are
some sections of the country relatively untouched, and
why?
– What are the implications of the conflict for other
states? For regional or global alliances?
– Who is affected by the conflict’s continuance, and who
might be affected by its settlement?
PREVIOUS ATTEMPTS AT SETTLEMENT
What is the history of the conflict regarding attempts to

resolve it?
– What structures were previously tried? Why did they
fail? Do the flaws relate to who authored the
settlement, or with how it was implemented, or what it
contained?
– Can patterns be identified among previous attempts at
settlement?
42
PHASES AND INTENSITY

Is it possible to identify phases of the conflict?
– Does the conflict have distinct phases, for example in
relation to experiments in particular forms of
governance, patterns of violence, or outside influences?
– Did the intensity of the violence shift over time?
BALANCE OF POWER
What is the nature and extent of the balance of power
between the parties?
– Who is stronger? Who has more support? (The
perception of the parties of their own power and their
own estimation of the “balance” between them is
critical.)
– Has this balance changed over time, or has it remained
constant?
– Is the dominant position of one party sustainable?
– Is it possible that one party may win outright victory in
the near future?
CAPACITY AND RESOURCES

What are the current capacities and resources of the
parties?
– Have the resources shifted for each side over time? Will
they change in the near future? Are they internal
sources or external?
– What is the financial situation of the differing parties?
– What resources will they need to conduct effective
negotiations?
STATE OF THE RELATIONSHIP

What is the nature of the relationship between the
adversaries?
– What is the nature of the relationship between leaders?
– What are the mutual images of one another that the
parties hold?
– Where do they get information about each other? How
accurate is their information?
– What communication channels are available between the
groups?
– What, if any, degree of trust exists?
43
2.8 Analytic Lenses
2.8 Analytic Lenses

What follows is designed to help put some structure, some org-
anization on the raw data generated by the questions of the
previous section. Most of the ideas presented here originated
from academic research. The aim is to extract some of the bet-
ter academic thinking on conflict analysis, and to present it in a
useful and practical manner.
One of the simplest As soon as one analyses anything, one simplifies. This is an occu-
ways to look at a pational hazard and necessary element of the analytic process.
As long as one recognizes the limitations this implies, then ana-
conflict is to imagine lysis can still be a very useful tool for gaining perspective, for or-
it as a triangle with ganizing information, for reaching a coherent understanding of
three points – the conflict. Simplicity is sometimes a strength, even with the
most complex subject matter.
situation, attitudes
What is offered here are a few simple analytic tools – some-
and behaviour – any times called models or theories by their originators. But they are
one of which can not panaceas: if a model seems inappropriate to the subject mat-
generate conflict. ter, one should know when to drop it in favour of another.
Again, no one model will explain everything; one chooses mod-
els as they work and replaces them when they don’t.
Moreover, conflict has a constantly shifting dynamic. Many of
the factors outlined in the previous section may change in them-
selves and alter in their relative importance over time; wholly
new factors may arrive and previously important factors disap-
pear. So the analysis process is never completely over. There is a
need to go back to it and reassess it regularly. Likewise, the ana-
lysis must be projected into the future, to see which current fac-
tors will persist, and which will shift with time, over the short,
medium and long term.
2.8.1 The conflict triangle
One of the simplest ways to look at conflict is to imagine it as
a triangle, with three points:
Situation
Attitudes Behaviour
It thus has three elements, any one of which can generate

conflict:
Situation. The situation refers to the objective positions that
can cause conflict. For instance, if political power resides in the
44
2 . 8 A n a l y t i c L e n s e s
hands of one section of a population, to the exclusion of the

other; or if one group has exclusive access to all the natural
resources in an area; or if a country is partitioned in such a way
as to privilege one group over another. Eventually, the groups
involved find that the situation has brought them into conflict.
Behaviour. Behaviour relates to the actions of people. One
group acts in an aggressive manner towards another: killing
their members, or oppressing them, or discriminating against
them. Perhaps the second group retaliates. Eventually the beha-
viours of both spiral into war. Thus the behaviour of those in-
volved, action and reaction alike, generates a context of conflict.
Attitudes. Here, we speak of the attitudes and perceptions of
groups, particularly their images of, and attitudes towards, each
other. A belief that another group is less valuable than our
group, or that they are plotting our destruction, or that their
own beliefs offend our moral code, or that they generally are a
danger to us, will generate conflict between them and us.
These three elements, then, can each be the root of conflict:
the situation people find themselves in, the behaviour they de-
monstrate, or the beliefs and perceptions they hold about each
other. Conflict can begin at any of these points on the triangle.
Once conflict begins from one point, however, it quickly spreads
to the others. Indeed the three points become mutually rein-
forcing elements in the conflict. We can then more accurately
portray them as interconnected, and reinforcing in both direc-
tions:
Situation
Attitudes Behaviour
Wherever the conflict originates in the triangle, it begins to

circulate in both directions. Aggressive behaviour will reinforce
negative attitudes; negative attitudes will make the situation
worse; a worsened situation will stimulate more defensive or agg-
ressive behaviour. And likewise, aggressive behaviour will make
the situation worse, a worsened situation will reinforce negative
attitudes, and negative attitudes will be expressed in more agg-
ressive behaviour. (Despite the danger of overloading such a
basic concept as our triangle, this model can then be reversed to
show that a reduction in aggressive behaviour, or an easing of
45
2.8 Analytic Lenses
negative attitudes, or an improvement in the material situation

will logically lead to a reduction in tension and conflict.)
This is a very simple tool. Its purpose is less to do with tracing
the origins of a conflict – in prolonged conflict, the cyclical
interaction around the triangle in both directions may very
quickly muddy any possibility of pinning down a single source.
More pertinent is the simple lesson that these three elements
add together to form conflict, and that their interaction and
interdependence fuel the dynamic of its growth and intensity.
Using the triangle as a basic framework may help to separate the
complex elements of conflict and to see a little more clearly
where the pieces fit.
2.8.2 Stages of escalation
Conflicts tend to escalate and de-escalate over time, bursting
out into violence, retreating into latent periods, and so on. It is
a vital piece of information, in analysing a conflict, to know where
in the escalatory spiral the conflict currently stands, and in
which direction it may be heading. Another tool offers a way of
doing this. This model says that there are four basic stages that
a conflict moves between, listed in rising order of escalation: Dis-
cussion, Polarization, Segregation and Destruction.
Discussion stage. Parties are disagreeing, but still close enough
to work together. Communication hopefully consists of direct
debate and discussion between parties. Mutual perceptions are
both accurate and reasonably benign. The relationship is one
with a modicum of trust and respect. The issues being empha-
sized in the dispute are substantive, objective ones. The possible
outcome is assumed to be one that can please both sides: a
win-win solution. The preferred method for managing the con-
flict is through co-operation to reach a joint solution. For inst-
ance, Canadian-Quebecois tensions over linguistic and cultural
rights are deep, abiding and complex. But, by and large, the ar-
gument is waged within the parameters of low-escalation discus-
sion.
Polarization stage. The parties have started to put distance
between them, to withdraw and turn away from each other. Be-
cause of that distance, communication is now more indirect and
reliant on interpretation (or, increasingly, misinterpretation).
Mutual perceptions of each other are hardening into rigid ste-
reotypes, especially since these are no longer challenged by the
evidence of direct interaction with each other. The relationship
has deteriorated from one of respect to a cooler one where each
sees the other as still important but increasingly unreliable. The
46
2 . 8 A n a l y t i c L e n s e s
emphasized issues have moved away from the objective elements

to the more psychological concerns about the relationship. The
possible outcome is no longer one where everyone wins, but one
where each must compromise to win some things and lose others.
The preferred method of managing the conflict has moved from
co-operative decision-making to competitive negotiation. The
Soviet-US relationship during periods of Cold War detente fits
the polarization stage fairly closely.
Segregation stage. The parties have moved away completely
from each other. Communication is now restricted to the issuing
of threats. Mutual perceptions have hardened into a picture of
us-as-good and them-as-evil. The relationship is now one of mis-
trust and disrespect. The issues now being emphasized in the
dispute are the core needs and values of each group: thus the
stakes have been rapidly raised in this stage. The outcome is now
perceived as a zero-sum calculation: a simple win-or-lose situa-
tion. And the preferred means of managing the situation has
become one of defensive competition, where each protects its
own interests above all, while trying to outwit or outsmart the
other side. To a degree, the tense stand-off in early 1998
between Iraq and the US over UN weapons inspections reflected
an instance of escalation up to the polarization stage, but one
which then de-escalated without tipping over into the outright
violence of destruction.
Destruction stage. This is one of all-out antagonism. Commu-
nication now merely consists of direct violence or complete
silence. In order to justify violence, perceptions of the other side
have become abusive descriptions of them as non-human, psy-
chopaths, and so on. The relationship is seen as being in a com-
pletely hopeless state. The only issue being emphasized now is
the ultimate survival of one’s own side in the face of the other’s
aggression. Perceived possible outcomes now are all lose-lose:
the situation is so bad that both sides will bear a heavy cost. The
chosen method of managing the conflict at this stage is simply
that of trying to destroy the opposition: we are in a state of war.
the world sadly abounds with examples of conflicts manifestly in
the destruction phase.
47
2.9 Conclusion
2.9 Conclusion
Conflict analysis is not easy. At the very beginning of it, adopt-
ing the integrative analytic approach is itself a challenge. It is a
difficult process, requiring time and effort to unpack the com-
plexities and multiplicities of this kind of conflict. Indeed, it can
seem extremely daunting. But it must be borne in mind that,
more often than not, what we are in fact looking at is complex-
ity rather than impossibility.
Analysis is complete Analysis is complete when we have become aware of all the
when we have become elements and factors – the actors, the issues, the relationships,
and so on – which will need to be taken into account in order to
aware of all the
develop a process for managing the conflict peacefully. From
elements and factors – the analysis, in other words, we can then move to a considera-
the actors, the issues, tion of all the ingredients which must be part of (a) a workable
the relationships, and process for reaching agreement among all those involved, and
(b) a viable outcome which covers all the elements, needs and
so on – which will interests identified. We move on now to the first of these – pro-
need to be taken into cess design – in the next chapter.
account in order to
develop a process for REFERENCES AND FURTHER READING
managing the conflict Azar, Edward E. 1991. “The Analysis and Management of
Protracted Conflict”. In V. Volkan, J. Montville and D. Julius.
peacefully. eds. The Psychodynamics of International Relationships. Volume 2:
Unofficial Diplomacy at Work. Lexington, MA: Lexington.
Bloomfield, David. 1996. Peacemaking Strategies in Northern
Ireland: Building Complementarity in Conflict Management.
London: Macmillan.
Deutsch, Morton. 1991. “Subjective Features of Conflict
Resolution: Psychological, Social and Cultural Features”. In
Raimo Vayrynen. ed. New Directions in Conflict Theory –
Conflict Resolution and Conflict Transformation. London:
Sage/ISSC.
Mitchell, Christopher. 1981. The Structure of International
Conflict. London: Macmillan.
Rothman, Jay. 1991. “Conflict Research and Resolution:
Cyprus”, Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social
Science, vol. 518. pp. 95–108.
48
South Africa
Mark Anstey
Case Study: South Africa
SOUTH AFRICA
Introduction
Conflict was evidenced early in South Africa’s recorded history, both between
and within racial groupings. Migrations by black and white groupings took place
under Zulu and British expansionism, and black tribes engaged in a series of skir-
mishes and battles with Boers (Afrikaners) and British settlers throughout the
1800s. Tensions between the British and the Boers culminated in The Boer War
(1899–1902). The discovery of diamonds (1867) and gold (1886) opened the econ-
omy and added to the competition over resources and power.
In 1910, the Boer republics (Transvaal and Orange Free State) and the British
colonies (Natal and the Cape) were unified, a tenuous white unity achieved at the
expense of black suffrage. The exclusion of blacks however sparked the formation
of the African National Congress (ANC) in 1912, and the beginnings of a long strug-
gle for political participation.
During the 1930s several investigative commissions questioned the sustainability
of economic growth in a system founded on racial discrimination. A degree of lib-
eralization resulted in relaxation of the pass laws, an erosion of the job colour bar,
moves towards a closure in the racial wage gap, and some extensions of labour
rights. But this stalled after 1945. The National Party (NP), elected in 1948 on a
wave of Afrikaner nationalism, enforced a hardline policy of formal racial sepa-
ratism: apartheid. African, Asian and coloured resistance strengthened. In 1957, Afri-
canists opposed to non-racialism split from the ANC to establish the Pan Africanist
Congress (PAC), pursuing a more militant line of resistance. The shooting of pass-
law demonstrators in Sharpeville by police sparked strikes and riots nationally, an
international outcry and a flight of capital from the country. The government hard-
ened its stance, banning the ANC and the PAC, which went underground and shift-
ed their strategies from passive resistance to violence against the state.
But social and economic realities eroded the apartheid dream. Rapid economic
growth during the 1960s produced a shortage of workers and demanded more
rather than fewer black urban dwellers. Manufacturing required a literate, techni-
South Africa
cally capable workforce. Economic development requirements ran counter to pop-

ulation, labour and education policies. Economic growth stalled as security and mil-
itary expenditure rose sharply during the 1970s to cope with internal unrest, increa-
singly costly border protections, and investment in the Angolan conflict.
Heavy-handed and violent repression of demonstrations sparked widespread
unrest and resistance which escalated through the late 1970s. On 12 September
1977, Steve Biko, the Black Consciousness leader, was assaulted and died violently
in police detention. By the mid-1980s a massive groundswell of resistance was in evi-
dence, led by student and worker activists. South Africa’s isolation increased across
51
a broad front of sporting, economic and cultural activities. Multinational companies

started to repatriate earnings rather than reinvest and major capital flight became
evident.
In the face of internal and international pressure, the government embarked on
a confused route of repression and reform, coercion and liberalization. A fast-grow-
ing and increasingly militant labour movement escalated strike action. Guerrilla
attacks and consumer, rent and school boycotts proliferated. A government initia-
tive to introduce a tricameral parliamentary system excluding blacks but incorpo-
rating Asian and coloured populations was rejected with massive demonstrations,
but nonetheless forced through by the government.
The Conflict Management Process
High levels of militance both energize progress in political transition and put it
at risk. Not uncommonly, countries in transition utilize short-term pacting arrange-
ments at military, political, and social-economic levels to stabilize the change pro-
cess even as they struggle over its final outcome. In effect, pacts represent mutual
guarantees on the part of powerholders to temporarily restrain their capacity for
inflicting damage on each other in their own and others interests, and to foster
progress in the transition. They represent the moment of interaction at which all
major stakeholders realize that they are at risk – there is no returning to the previous
system and power needs to be carefully used in order to secure their future. Neither
retreat nor outright confrontation is feasible for either party.
The South African case reflects such a “pact-building process” – firstly it to open the
door to negotiations, and then it to manage the negotiation process itself. This pro-
duced a network of stabilizing forums and institutions through which negotiations
could occur and conflict could be better regulated. These arrangements were fragile.
Progress was continually threatened by suspicions of treachery, by violence and by
breakdowns in the negotiation process itself. When this occurred, the scale of vio-
lence, and the threat of chaos were such as to oblige parties back to the table.
President de Klerk’s opening speech to parliament in February 1990 opened the
door to a complex transition process in which stakeholders had to convince them-
selves and each other of their shared commitment to a jointly negotiated future. De
South Africa
Klerk removed bans on political parties, and signaled new freedoms in political
activity. The leader of the ANC, Nelson Mandela, was released from prison, imme-
diately making statements to reassure and cohere his constituency.
Key leadership figures of the ANC were flown into the country to work in a joint
committee with government representatives on an indemnity arrangement, but
deep suspicions continued to shroud dealings. The ANC group feared that it was
being “tricked” into the country under false pretences and would be arrested; the
government team feared that amnesty arrangements would be used as a smoke-
screen to cover ongoing infiltration and a major revolutionary onslaught. Both sides
52
hedged and kept contingency plans in place.

Nevertheless the process was sustained and a three-day meeting ended in the
Groote Schuur Minute, which facilitated the release of political prisoners and the
return of exiles, and amended security legislation. This was followed by the Pretoria
Minute in which Mandela announced the suspension of the armed struggle. Conser-
vative elements on both sides feared that too much had been conceded. Previously
banned liberation groups had the problem of transforming themselves into legal
actors in a country still under the control of the Nationalist Party Government. The
government faced problems in moving from an approach of vilifying the ANC as
“communist terrorists”, to one which acknowledged it and other political groupings
as legitimate political players. Partly to contain these problems, the ANC and the NP
entered a deal – the DF Malan Accord in February 1991 – in which the government
accepted that Umkhonto We Sizwe, the armed wing of the ANC during the struggle,
would not be disbanded before transition to a democratic government.
The government wanted a new constitution to be negotiated by a convention
comprising all political groupings. The ANC held that it should be carried out by
“legitimate representatives” of all the people. The NP recognized that in the ANC
scenario it would be reduced to the part of small player. The ANC recognized that
in the NP scenario it would be participating with players whose constituencies were
either very small or nonexistent (as illegitimate products of the apartheid system)
and its own influence would be reduced. This impasse was broken through a com-
promise in which the “either-or” scenario was transformed into an “order of events”.
An all-party convention would negotiate the route to a constituent assembly and an
interim constitution, leading to the election of the assembly by universal franchise.
The assembly would then negotiate the final constitution, but on the foundation of
binding principles laid down in the interim constitution on the question of majori-
ties required for decision-making purposes. The Convention for a Democratic
South Africa (CODESA) convened late in 1991 to initiate discussions.
It was quickly recognized that building a viable democracy would require institu-
tions and forums for consensus building at all levels within a fractured society. These
assumed the major task of institutionalizing the transition, and of managing associ-
ated tensions in a manner which would support and indeed carry the political pro-
South Africa
cess. Their very existence was confirmation in many ways that change was irrever-
sible. Management of the process was not simply in the hands of the regime. Steadily
it moved into a period of joint control through peace accords, economic pacts, local
government forums and a transitional executive council which laid the foundation
for the advent of majority rule.
In 1992, after lengthy behind-the-scenes discussions and in the context of pro-
gress on the political front, the trade union movement entered the National Econo-
mic Forum (NEF) with the government of the day and business. Its purpose was to
seek consensus over economic policy, especially during the transition period. In this
53
forum, organized labour rather than political opposition groups held sway and
sought to entrench their influence over economic and social policy-making. In making
these moves the trade unions made the decision to retain an identity separate from
that of government and to participate in the change process on its own terms, even
as it supported opposition political parties. This strategic move laid the base for a
later post-election social corporatism.
Pacting extended to areas of government as well. In 1992, representatives of cen-
tral, provincial and local government established a Local Government Negotiating
Forum to devise a viable and democratic future local government system. A National
Education and Training Forum was founded to seek agreement on restructuring
the education system to meet the country’s development needs. All these forums
embedded democratic values and processes of negotiation in the wider society and
supported the unfolding political process.
Of central concern was the role and legitimacy of police and security forces. How
could they be entrusted as custodians of transition to a new democracy – and what
were the alternatives? Several important steps were taken to address this dilemma.
A Police Board comprising representatives from political parties, civil society, gov-
ernment and the police was established in 1991 to review police policy and structure
and recommend changes for a police service into the future. A National Peace
Accord was achieved as a non-aggression pact between key stakeholders involved in
the transition process. A detailed written agreement brokered by the churches, the
Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU) and big business, the Accord
sought primarily to end political violence in the country, making provision for codes
of conduct for political parties and organizations, a code of conduct for police and
the security forces, guidelines for the reconstruction and development of commu-
nities, and mechanisms to implement its provisions. It committed parties to a multi-
party democracy and to respect for the fundamental rights and freedoms under-
pinning a democracy, and provided for a system of peace committees at all levels of
society to monitor adherence to the Accord and resolve disputes using mediation
and arbitration. The Police Board was entrenched as a measure of civilian control
over policing activities.
South Africa
The effectiveness of the Accord has been questioned. High levels of violence con-
tinued, particularly in Kwazulu-Natal and the East Rand. If the Accord failed to stop
violence, it at least reduced it, and certainly through its conflict resolution mecha-
nisms in the regions, it saved many lives. It contributed to the building of grass-roots
peace structures, brought hope and participation in the transition process to many
people otherwise alienated from the larger political exchange, and defused many
volatile, and potentially fatal, political confrontations. Most importantly however, it
represented a joint commitment on the part of all the stakeholders to values and
standards which were difficult to walk away from or openly reject.
54
The Political Negotiation Process

CODESA’s beginnings were unsteady. The Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) leader
Chief Buthelezi personally boycotted the process. De Klerk and Mandela opened
with a heated exchange, accusing each other of bad faith. And so it continued. The
ANC wanted a short “phase one” leading to elections and democratic government.
The NP, recognizing that its major influence lay in the front rather than the back
end of negotiations, wanted a more detailed and protracted process. Increasingly,
opposition groups suspected the NP of deliberate stalling tactics, and uneasiness
developed as to whether the process was in fact irreversible. De Klerk called a refer-
endum amongst whites in March 1992, and achieved a resounding two-thirds major-
ity for continuing negotiations. But when he returned to the bargaining table, it was
with a tougher, rather than a softer line.
Negotiations bogged down on the issue of which matters were “basic principles”
to be enshrined as constraints in the final constitution. The NP in effect wanted as
much binding agreement as possible up front. The ANC wanted as much latitude as
possible retained for a later, more “legitimate” process following elections. The ma-
jor deadlock was over percentages required for a majority to change the constitu-
tion. The ANC demanded two thirds as the international norm; the NP wanted 75
percent. Deadlock continued, and in June 1992, in the township of Boipatong,
armed IFP supporters massacred 38 people in their homes. Serious allegations were
made that security forces had assisted in the massacre, and there were signs of a
police cover-up. De Klerk’s visit to the township to placate residents deteriorated
into violence, further angering the populace and pushing the ANC to a more mili-
tant public position. CODESA collapsed with the ANC withdrawing from the pro-
cess.
Following the breakdown of CODESA, the ANC, responding to a rising level of
grass-roots militance, embarked on a campaign of mass action. Tensions between the
IFP and the ANC sparked massive violence in Kwazulu-Natal and the East Rand.
Police and security forces were accused of either assisting IFP forces or simply standing
by. ANC suspicions of a “third force” were voiced, reflecting a strong view that there
were deliberate efforts to sabotage the negotiation process and the ANC’s mobili-
South Africa
zation campaign.
The ANC responded with a formalized “rolling mass action” campaign of strikes,
stayaways and boycotts. They turned their attention to the homelands and on 7
March organized a march on Bisho, the Ciskei capital. Ciskei troops opened fire, kil-
ling 28 people.
Tragically it was the rise in political deaths, culminating in the Bisho killings,
which sobered relations, facilitating the return to prominence of softliners and a
reconvening of talks. It obliged the leadership on all sides to face the realities of fail-
55
ing to achieve a political accord. Mandela and de Klerk reduced preconditions for
a resumption of negotiations, and talks restarted.
The political violence continued right up to the election period, with the white
right playing an increasing role as it sensed the negotiations moving to a close. The
threat of rightwing action was ever-present in the process, given the unresolved
question of who was really in charge of the country at the time – the government was
in place but a Transitional Executive Council (TEC) had established mechanisms to
ensure that in effect it governed by consent in the lead-up to elections.
The peace process was conceived in two phases – an interim constitution leading
into elections, after which a final constitution would be negotiated. The interim con-
stitution provided the foundations for a constitutional democracy, guaranteeing uni-
versal suffrage and fundamental democratic rights to be guarded by a constitutional
court. The final constitution was to be approved by the Constitutional Assembly (na-
tional assembly and the senate), and checked by the constitutional court against
constitutional principles before being adopted.
The interim constitution provided wide-ranging protection of human and civil
rights. It provided for a parliament comprising a National Assembly, with 400 mem-
bers elected by proportional representation; a Senate comprising 10 senators for
each of nine provinces, also elected by proportional representation, and a National
Executive headed by a president elected by a majority in the national assembly. The
president could appoint two deputies and a cabinet. All parties achieving more than
a five per cent vote had a right to be part of the cabinet, and cabinet posts were allo-
cated in proportion to national assembly seats.
Provincial governments were to have their own legislatures elected on the basis of
proportional representation, making decisions by simple majority vote. They could
pass laws for their provinces, but they could not exceed powers granted by the con-
stitution. Should national and provincial laws clash, the provincial one was to pre-
vail. Local governments were to be autonomous according to conferred powers. A
Council of Traditional Leaders at national level, and Houses of Traditional Leaders at pro-
vincial level, would advise parliament on traditional and customary law. By agree-
ment the interim constitution was to come into effect on the day of the elections of
the national and provincial parliaments.
South Africa
Founding Elections
During the transition process, the existing government remained in office but
acted in consultation with the Transitional Executive Council (TEC) drawn from
the parties involved in the negotiating process. An Independent Electoral Commission
(IEC) was appointed to conduct the country’s first democratic elections in April
1994. Its first meeting was held on 20 December 1993 and the actual work of setting
up systems of delivery at grass-roots level was only started two months before the
elections. Constraints included not only an unreasonably short timeframe, and the
56
absence of a voters roll, but the absence of infrastructure in large areas of the coun-
try, a lack of trained personnel, few existing administrative structures, and inade-
quate demographic data. Over the four days of the April 1994 elections, 8,493 ordi-
nary voting stations supplemented with 950 mobile, 1,047 special, and 187 foreign
voting stations were in operation in South Africa, and in 78 other countries. A third
of the voting stations had no electricity or regular telephone service. It was a diffi-
cult process with shortages of materials, logistical problems, sabotage of the count-
ing process, and systems failures. The IEC were acutely aware that failure to deliver
a free and fair election might lose South Africa’s democracy at the very moment of
its delivery. Efficient and credible internal and external (United Nations, European
Union, etc.) monitoring was important, as was the creative capacity of the IEC to
respond to last minute crises in administration and counting processes.
Consolidating Democracy
South Africa has taken important steps to embed its democracy in political and
civil life. A final constitution confirming the spirit of the interim constitution has
been negotiated. A number of state institutions exist to strengthen and protect the
new democracy, including: a Public Protector; a Human Rights Commission; a Com-
mission to Promote and Protect Rights of Cultural, Religious and Linguistic Com-
munities; a Commission for Gender Equality; an Auditor General; and an Electoral
Commission. The public service is being transformed to more fully represent and
serve the country’s population; new labour legislation adhering to international
standards has been introduced and a National Economic, Development and Labour
Council has been established to seek consensus on social and economic policy.
An important initiative has been the Truth and Reconciliation Commission
(TRC). The TRC offered a means of surfacing the atrocities of the apartheid system
in a manner directed at reconciling a deeply divided nation rather than simply
exacting revenge or seeking retribution. It has given people at all levels and on all
sides the opportunity to declare their part in the conflict, to shed light on disappearances,
murders, tortures and lesser human rights transgressions, and importantly to
express regret and seek forgiveness and amnesty.
Lessons for Managing Transitions to Democracy
South Africa
Building and sustaining a democracy in the context of deep-rooted conflict with

limited violence is a tough task. The South African experience described here offers
some lessons including the importance of:
– A precipitating crisis in the authoritarian system (internal and external pressures);
– A recognition of power realities by leadership (joint acknowledgement that nego-
tiated change offers the best option to all parties);
– An extensive period of pre-negotiation;
– A significant gesture on the part of the government to break the deadlock of
57
preconditions (the extension of meaningful political freedoms/suspension of

armed struggle);
– Integrity of leadership and willingness to take risks for peaceful over violent
change;
– Reframing deadlocks into common problems (e.g., changing “either-or” into se-
quence options);
– Pacting on multiple fronts to stabilize the change process and manage conflict
relations;
– Embedding democratic participation (civil society participation beyond the polit-
ical elites);
– The negotiation of a constitution which provides sufficient security for a govern-
ing regime to cede power through elections;
– Properly resourced electoral processes;
– Effective institutions for consolidating a new democracy and reconciling inter-
ests, moving from a past of deep and often violent division.
Although the tendency is to dissect constitutions and bargaining structures for
lessons in managing transitions to democracy, perhaps the really important lessons
lie less in these areas of analysis, and more in the attitudinal elements of key stake-
holders, the quality of leadership and the skills they reveal in managing processes of
negotiation and problem-solving both with adversaries and within constituencies.
South Africa was indeed fortunate in these areas. The protracted process which
facilitated the development of trade unions, the emergence of struggle structures
and leaders with developed bargaining skills before political change was entertained
may not have motivated early reform initiatives but, in the end, served the country
well in the search for a viable democracy.
South Africa
58
Negotiation
Processes
3
If a process is
C H A P T E R
If adesigned that is not

process is designed
that is not appropriate to
appropriate
the context, then it is
to the
defeated before it begins.
context, then it is
defeated before it
begins.
Our focus now turns to process – the question
of designing best how to reach a settlement.
What is offered in this chapter is a range of
negotiation techniques and procedures which
can be selected, rejected or adapted depending
upon what contending parties regard as most
helpful in advancing the management of their
conflict.
3.1–3.2 Key elements in process design

3.3–3.4 Pre-negotiation: designing the process for talks
3.5–3.6 Basic negotiation techniques and tools to break deadlock
3.7 Role of third parties
3.8 Conclusion
Box 3 Key Elements in Designing a Negotiation

Process (p. 66)
Box 4 Major Elements for Pre-Negotiation (p. 69)
Box 5 Negotiating Techniques: Some Basic
Principles (p. 98)
Box 6 Breaking Deadlock (p. 103)
Box 7 Forms of Third-Party Intervention (p. 112)
A Menu of Options 1 Developing a Negotiation Process
(pp. 114–118)
David Bloomfield,
Charles Nupen and
Peter Harris
Negotiation Processes
3.1 Introduction
C
onflicts differ so markedly in history and context, issue
and character, intensity and outcome, that processes to
address them must be responsive to each circumstance. If
a process is designed that is not appropriate to the context, then
it is defeated before it begins. This assertion comes from a recog-
nition of the uniqueness of each situation, which should save us
from universal prescriptions. But the process of comparison can
still be invaluable. The fact that an approach works in, say,
Eritrea is no guarantee that it would be in any way effective in
Palestine or Fiji. But certainly at a more specific level we might
well look at the elements of a cease-fire in Chechnya for clues as
to how to achieve a cease-fire in the Philippines. For all their dif-
ferences, there are also common or comparable elements: regio-
nal armed insurrection against a central government, claims for
self-determination, deep-rooted identity issues intertwined with
perceptions of social and economic discrimination, a recent end
to authoritarian structures of government, and so on. So while
respecting the uniqueness of a particular conflict, we can still
learn important lessons from other situations. Even developing
an answer to the question, “Why wouldn’t that work here?” en-
genders an analysis of the situation that promotes definition of
what could succeed.
3.2 Key Issues in Process Design
3.2.1 Commonly perceived deadlock
Conflicting parties come to the table only when they perceive
it – willingly or grudgingly – to be in their interests. A conflu-
ence of factors must be operating to make this so. In particular,
negotiation only tends to come about when there is a mutually
perceived notion of deadlock. This is often referred to as a
“hurting stalemate”. In many cases, only when the conviction
grows on both sides that neither will win outright and that to
continue with violent means will be costly without achieving vic-
tory, does the option of negotiation gain attraction. This does
not require that the two sides be evenly matched in their military
power and resources. That is rarely the case in internal conflict.
All it requires is that the weaker can at least prevent the outright
61
3.2 Key Issues in Process
Design
victory of the stronger – this is the rule rather than the excep-
tion in most internal conflicts.
Various internal and external factors produced this kind of
stalemate in South Africa. The rapprochement between the US
and the Soviet Union, followed by the latter’s eventual break-up,
was highly significant. As the East-West dichotomy began to
crumble, some of the traditional support bases for both sides
were removed. The international imposition of punitive sanc-
tions and “pariah status” was chipping away cumulatively at the
economic viability and moral legitimacy of the South Africans State.
Internally, the costs of sustaining apartheid and separate deve-
lopment were spiraling. Population shifts to urban centres made
implementation and control more problematic than ever, while
the development of the various homelands and assorted sep-
arate councils and assemblies produced a vast and hopelessly
inefficient bureaucracy. Internal and external resistance to the
state escalated and gained huge momentum through the 1980s,
proving ever more difficult and expensive to repress.
An effective process is Similarly, after 25 years of continuing violence in Northern
one that will prove Ireland, by the 1990s both the paramilitary forces of the Irish Re-
publican Army (IRA) and the generals of the British Army
itself resilient and realized that neither side was capable militarily of securing total
durable in the face of victory. The best each could do was to prevent the other from
delays, deadlocks, winning. The choice then became one between continuing to
fight without hope of victory and at continuing high cost in
walkouts, raised human and financial terms, or to look at other non-military options.
hopes, false So together a range of factors acted in both South Africa and
expectations and Northern Ireland to bring about perceptions on all sides both of
angry words. the pain of continued stalemate and of the attraction of negoti-
ation. The second does not, of course, follow automatically from
the first. In Sudan, in terms of human lives and suffering, envi-
ronmental degradation, internal and external economic burd-
ens, and so on, the cost of remaining in an ongoing stalemate
has been huge; and yet, in the words of one scholar, even
though Sudan “is a nation at the brink of total collapse ... lead-
ers themselves have apparently not felt the personal threat of
imminent demise”.
3.2.2 Seizing opportunities
Just the existence of stalemate, then, is not enough. It can
produce a window of opportunity, a “ripe” moment for solution,
but ripe moments must be recognized, seized and used. Nego-
tiations do not simply emerge from the ashes of conflict. A com-
monly perceived notion of deadlock leaves contending parties
with a perspective that they cannot win by war, but not necessar-
ily with incentives to search for peace. So acknowledging stale-
62
mate is one thing. But other factors must act on the parties to
move them towards negotiation. Stalemate is usually experi-
enced as a sterile situation, which, by definition, precludes any
opportunities for change or progress. But almost paradoxically,
stalemate can be precisely the beginning of opportunity. That
depends on the confluence of factors operating that will make
negotiation viable. These factors can come from any aspect of
the process, internal or external.
In Mozambique, the intervention of the Roman Catholic
church, using the organization Sant’Egidio, via pastoral letters,
its own contacts, and its active encouragement and persuasion of
the actors, led to its success in facilitating talks involving
FRELIMO and RENAMO in Rome between 1990 and 1992. In
the Angolan context, the Bicesse accords of 1991 grew directly
out of a major shift in superpower perspective which led to So-
viet pressure on the MPLA, and US (and South African) pres-
sure on UNITA to go to the table. In South Africa in 1990, Presi-
dent de Klerk abruptly announced the release of political pris-
oners and the unbanning of the ANC and other outlawed par-
ties. Similarly, Anwar Sadat’s famous “flight to Jerusalem” in
1977 stunned the world by breaking the universal Arab taboo on
Israeli recognition: he flew to Jerusalem and addressed the Is-
raeli parliament. So much was implicit in the gesture – putting a
huge crack in the universal Arab rejection of Israel’s right to
exist, putting an equally heavy burden of reciprocation on Is-
rael, and so on – that, like de Klerk’s speech, new possibilities
and parameters for movement were developed out of long-stan-
ding stalemate.
So, while stalemate often comes about because of the absence
of change, negotiation becomes an attractive proposition pre-
cisely because of changes in context – a new government or lea-
der, a shift in support for one side or the other, a unilateral “cir-
cuit-breaking” initiative, and so on. Such a turning point in per-
ceptions is required to transform a stalemate into a search for
alternatives. There has to be a perception, originally conceived
or induced, of the distinct possibility of a negotiated solution.
It is therefore important that an ongoing conflict be constan-
tly evaluated and assessed to ensure “windows of opportunity”
are not lost. Generally, such opportunities are rare and should
be seized. The parties themselves, because of their proximity to
the conflict, may not see such openings, and it may therefore
require a third party to take the initiative.
3.2.3 The importance of trust
Negotiations tend to focus on issues, but their success de-
pends on people. So good process also seeks to enhance the re-
63
3.2 Key Issues in Process
Design
lationship between the conflicting parties. This is not a matter of

asking enemies to become friends. But there must be a functional
working relationship between the parties so that, minimally,
they can negotiate with a degree of good faith. To reach that mi-
nimal working level of respect is often an incremental process
between old enemies. During violent struggle, demonization of
the enemy is a standard tactic: visions of the other side as “psy-
chopaths”, “terrorists” and “evil empires” help to legitimize the
use of violence against them. But such visions must be disman-
tled in order to hold dialogue. Perceptions must be changed.
Small concessions, often with low intrinsic value in themselves,
can serve as tokens to demonstrate both one’s commitment to
the process and one’s inclination and ability to deliver on one’s
promises. When that is done reciprocally, both sides can be seen
to be mutually as good as their word. The role of accurate infor-
mation and the manner of its presentation to the parties can
greatly assist the breaking down of incorrect perceptions.
In other words, good process moves the parties beyond an ex-
clusive focus on the competition of bargaining to include a de-
gree of co-operation: without co-operation, there will be no sa-
tisfactory outcome. Negotiation, in itself, implies movement and
should be a problem-solving process. Participants must, to some
degree, co-operate to find a solution to their problem.
The classic example of such a working relationship was that
which grew between the chief South African negotiators, Roelf
Meyer for the National Party and Cyril Ramaphosa for the ANC.
Such was the substance of their relationship that it arguably sal-
vaged the peace process in its darkest days. In the midst of nego-
tiations, a serious outbreak of violence at Boipatong in June
1992 led the ANC to break off all contact with the government.
For almost 18 months thereafter, the “Roelf and Cyril show’ re-
mained the only open channel of communication between the
sides. Meyer himself reflects on this point:
”
Negotiators need to develop a common understanding of each
other’s positions. In the case of Cyril and myself, that common
understanding led to friendship. But what is very important
in this process of coming to understand each other is that you
have to put yourself in the shoes of the person on the other
side ... The personal chemistry between negotiators is ... a
very important ingredient of successful negotiations.
In deep-rooted conflict, parties who come to the negotiating

table carry with them an abiding experience of conflict, struggle
and war. The exercise of force has been their dominant, per-
haps only, mode of engagement. The key challenge in process
design is to invert that experience, to get the contenders focu-
sed on fears, concerns and interests and the importance of rec-
onciling them, on issues and the importance of resolving them.
An effective process is one that will prove itself resilient and dur-
able in the face of delays, deadlocks, walkouts, continuing vio-
lence, raised hopes, false expectations and angry words.
3.2.4 Flexibility
Negotiation is a creative process, a precarious journey of dis-
covery. This means that the final outcome cannot always be fore-
seen at the beginning of the process. Clearly, the parties will have
their own views on what they want to achieve, their own “mod-
els” of desirable settlements, but only those in a privileged or
extremely powerful position will be able to define their objec-
tives and get one hundred per cent of what they want. This is a
daunting prospect for a negotiator or process designer. Conse-
quently, while the parameters for the process need careful de-
sign and agreement (and will be examined in this chapter) the
process needs to be flexible enough to cope with the unfore-
seen. A naturally protective mind-set at the start of negotiations
means that negotiators often look to establish preconditions for
dialogue – but too many preconditions make the process brittle
and can inhibit or even throttle it at birth. Preconditions have a
habit of turning around to bite their promoters. In some cases,
negotiators have had to go back to their constituencies and at-
tempt to persuade them that the conditions that they were so
firm and voluble on were now not so important after all. If the
negotiations really move into new territory, then pre-condi-
tions, which made sense at the start, may become irrelevant or
worse.
During the talks process, goals and targets can change, and
the basic parameters and ground-rules of the process may need
to be adapted. Over several years, for example, Sinhalese-Tamil
dialogue in Sri Lanka shifted, according to what was possible,
acceptable or appropriate, from bilateral negotiations through
third-party mediation and an all-party conference, to informal
and private engagements and subsequently to formal talks bro-
kered by India. Needs will change, and so must process. Flexibi-
lity in process design does not mean lack of resilience or even a
65
3.3 Pre-Negotiation
lack of guiding principles. But it does require that parties con-

sciously avoid painting themselves into corners, or leaving them-
selves no alternative to breaking off dialogue. By taking a wider
view of the whole peace process, what looks like the end of talks
can often prove to be a catalyst that reinforces efforts to get ne-
gotiations back on track. Then we may be able to recognize what
has been called a step-break-gesture-step pattern. Conflicting
parties enter negotiations and take a step towards progress; then
the negotiations are broken off over some disagreement; later,
outside the talks process, some gesture is made that facilitates a
resumption of talks and a further step of progress at the table,
before another break occurs, and so on. While not easy to ach-
ieve, the greater the flexibility in the design, the greater the
chances of progress.
Box 3 KEY ELEMENTS IN DESIGNING A

NEGOTIATION PROCESS
1. Commonly Perceived Deadlock. Negotiation tends to
come about when there is a mutually perceived notion
of deadlock, often referred to as a “hurting stalemate”.
2. Seizing “Windows of Opportunity”. But the existence of
stalemate is not enough. It can produce a “ripe”
moment for solution, but ripe moments must be
recognized, seized and used. An ongoing conflict must
be constantly evaluated and assessed to ensure
“windows of opportunity” are not lost.
3. Importance of Trust. Enemies do not need to become
friends. But negotiation does demand a minimum of
co-operative effort.
4. Flexibility. The process of negotiation needs to remain
flexible. Too many preconditions can become obstacles
to dialogue.
3.3 Pre-Negotiation
Pre-negotiation is, in the Irish phrase, “talks about talks”. It is
concerned with setting up the framework within which issues
can subsequently be discussed, not with the issues themselves. In
this handbook’s terms, pre-negotiation does not address the
design of an outcome – that will wait until the forthcoming talks
actually begin – but focuses on process. It is, in effect, negotiation
66
3 . 3 P r e - N e g o t i a t i o n
over process. Its subject matter will concern procedures, struc-

tures, roles, and agendas. One aim of pre-negotiation is to reach
a joint definition of the problems and subject matter that will
have to be addressed – but it does not tackle those issues beyond
defining them for future reference. It can be carried out by very
small delegations (or even individual representatives) either
talking face-to-face or through a third party.
The importance of pre-negotiation cannot be overstated. Bad
process will almost definitely lead to failure: what may seem dry
and technical procedural questions need to be resolved prior to
talks, otherwise they can become hugely significant or symbolic
issues which may abruptly derail the process. In the handbook’s
terms, good process facilitates good outcome; in practical terms,
good procedural pre-negotiation facilitates good substantive
negotiation. Additionally, an effective pre-negotiation phase helps
to develop the vital working relationship discussed earlier.
Especially if it is held out of the glare of publicity, quiet pre-
negotiation offers an all-important opportunity to develop the
habit of dialogue between opponents while no substantive
issue is at stake.
Pre-negotiation is, of course, less neatly distinct in the real Pre-negotiation is
world than in this analytic presentation. Pre-negotiation can shade concerned with setting
into negotiation if it goes extremely well, or substantive negotia- up the framework –
tion may need to recede back to procedural pre-negotiation
the procedures,
temporarily. Like the entire dialogue process, it can arise through
a voluntary desire among conflicting parties, or it can be im- structures, roles and
posed from outside by a powerful third party who enters the agendas – within
conflict and sets the terms for engagement. which issues can be
Pre-negotiation can take place even if there is no intention to discussed. Its
move on to full negotiations. Perhaps the sides are still too far importance cannot be
apart for proper negotiation. Nonetheless initial contacts, aimed
overstated.
at simply increasing mutual understanding of the issues that di-
vide through joint definition of the problem, can establish pro-
gress that may make negotiation more feasible at some future
stage, or even bring the possibility of direct talks closer to reali-
ty. The Norwegian back-channel negotiations to broker the 1993
Middle East peace accord is an example. Initiated by a Norwe-
gian diplomat, this involved highly confidential meetings in the
diplomat’s private house in Norway between a high-ranking
PLO member and an Israeli adviser. The two protagonists acted
in completely unofficial capacities. Their conversations focused
67
3.3 Pre-Negotiation
on exploring mutual definitions of their problem, and then exa-

mining the obstacles to settlement and the possibilities for over-
coming such obstacles. Such matters were in reality the ingredi-
ents of the pre-negotiation process of defining the agenda. The
talks were exploratory, unofficial, deniable, without formal sanc-
tion, and included no expectation or commitment that they
should lead further. However, when this pre-negotiation took
on its own momentum (not least because of the developing trust
between the two interlocutors), it made sense to feed it back in
to their respective formal structures: the PLO and the Israeli go-
vernment. In the end, the dialogue led to full-blown negotiation
within the official peace process. The point is that the small, pri-
vate, exploratory pre-negotiation initiative had no conscious
goal of a peace agreement at the time.
In a more formal example of pre-negotiation, the agenda for
talks in South Africa was effectively outlined in preparatory form
in three important statements that, to a large degree, outlined
the agenda and the process for discussion. As one participant
noted:
”
A common perception of deadlock seems to be critical,
and the first phase of negotiation [i.e., pre-negotiation]
seems to be taken up in exploring this deadlock and
developing a common mental map. In the South African
case the Groote Schuur Minute, the Pretoria Minute and
the Record of Understanding were key moments when the
major parties to the conflict spelt out their common
perception of deadlock, and how to proceed away from it.
3.3.1 The pre-negotiation agenda

Developing a “common mental map”, and then devising the
means to travel is the business of pre-negotiation. Putting the de-
sign of the negotiations together requires careful consideration
and planning. The resulting process should be accepted by all
parties as legitimate.
68
3.4 Developing a Specific

Negotiation Process
Box 4
MAJOR ELEMENTS FOR PRE-NEGOTIATION
The following list represents the major elements to be pre-
negotiated, from the hugely complex to the apparently
straightforward:
– agreeing on the basic rules and procedures;
– participation in the process, and methods of representation;
– dealing with preconditions for negotiation and barriers to
dialogue;
– creating a level playing-field for the parties;
– resourcing the negotiations;
– the form of negotiations;
– venue and location;
– communication and information exchange;
– discussing and agreeing upon some broad principles with
regard to outcomes;
– managing the proceedings;
– timeframes;
– decision-making procedures;
– process tools to facilitate negotiations and break deadlocks;
– the possible assistance of a third party.
We will examine each of these issues in turn, presenting a menu

of options for developing a negotiation system. At all times
bearing in mind the influence of context and its potential to inspire
completely novel options, parties should be able to design a
process which will prove both resilient and durable. They must
also, of course, be aware of the possibility that there exists with-
in their own culture indigenous dispute resolution mechanisms:
these can be adopted or adapted to further strengthen the whole
design.
3.4 Developing a Specific Negotiation Process

3.4.1 Participants
In Nelson Mandela’s famous advice to Northern Irish politi-
cians, “You don’t make peace by talking to your friends; you have
to make peace with your enemies”. While it is tempting to ex-
clude more extreme parties from the process, for fear of their
disrupting or obstructing talks, the risk then increases that they
will act as spoilers in undermining the agreement reached. Mo-
derates will negotiate more easily, but what is implicit in Man-
69
Negotiation Process
dela’s words is the need to deal directly with those who are caus-
ing trouble, rather than to exclude and subsequently try to mar-
ginalize them. This was one reason for the failure of Northern
Irish negotiations in 1991 and 1992. While the moderates tried
to negotiate agreement around the table, armed extremists on
both sides were excluded. The surrounding atmosphere, heavy
with the threat of paramilitary violence, undermined the signi-
ficance and efficacy of the talks.
Reviewing negotiation processes between various permuta-
tions of the parties to the Lebanese conflict since the mid-1970s,
two leading scholars make the point convincingly:
”
In terms of structure, the most important deal in the Lebanese
conflict revolved around who was included in the negotiations
and who was excluded or chose not to join … [N]o solution to
the conflict is likely to be successful if all the major parties to
the conflict are not involved in the negotiations. Nor are
substitutes likely to succeed ... because they do not have the
real power to implement the agreements.
The need to be inclusive refers not only to differing parties,

but also to different opinion strands within parties. Especially for
outsiders, it is tempting to see the sides to a conflict as homoge-
nous, monolithic blocs. This is rarely the case. There are usual-
ly a variety of constituencies within any one disputing party –
political factions, old and young generations, gender groups, ra-
dicals, fundamentalists, peace-activists, business interests, mili-
tary interests, and so on. Spoilers can come from within one’s
own broader community – whether they are more extreme or
more moderate members than one’s own faction – just as easily
as from some totally excluded conflicting party.
Furthermore, those who carry out the negotiations must pos-
sess – and be seen by the opposition to have – adequate power
and authority mandated to them from their own side. They need
to be able to speak with authority, to offer deals with the capa-
city to deliver. To be, in short, the legitimate representatives to
the talks. Often the most obviously powerful individuals for this
role would seem to be the party/faction leaders themselves.
70

Negotiation Process
However, their own public personas and positions may in fact

constrain their capacity to talk flexibly: their role outside the
talks requires an integrity of position that cannot appear nego-
tiable for fear of appearing “weak”. The judicious selection of
negotiators who can bring to the table their leaders’ authority
while retaining their own capacity for flexibility is a vital ingredient.
It simultaneously makes life at the negotiating table more dif-
ficult, but increases the chances of producing a successful out-
come, to include all those who can influence the process. But
realistically, the minimum requirement is to include the main-
streams from all sides. Subsequently, those included either can
strive to bring more of their excluded or unwilling strands into
the process as talks gather momentum, or ultimately they can
persuade, cajole or coerce their respective extremes into accep-
tance of the final outcome.
One element of inclusion is to forge cross-party coalitions “You don’t make
among those in favour of the talks. Within any one camp in a peace by talking to
conflict, there are likely to be differing opinions about the value
your friends; you have
of negotiation. To make the process work, it is important to
build a coalition with all who support the process, however much to make peace with
they may still disagree about outcome. This applies not only your enemies.”
within one’s own party, and among one’s allies, but – just as im-
portantly – between opposing sides. Building momentum in fa- Nelson Mandela
vour of negotiation across the divide increases the possibility of
effective outcomes, and feeds into the process of building trust
and a good working relationship between opponents.
All those parties with a genuine stake in the conflict have a
claim to be included, as have those whose co-operation and en-
dorsement is needed to ensure that the outcome of talks becomes
a reality. If they are not drawn in, they remain outside the camp,
temporarily sidelined but ready (and motivated) to undermine
the outcome. The list of participants may thus be extensive:
political parties, faction leaders, external actors, and so on.
Bigger numbers usually mean a slower process, but there are
methods outlined in subsequent sections which will offset the
tendency of size to work against efficiency.
Participation is a core issue, and remains a difficult one to re-
solve. Not only are there usually multiple parties and opinions
within any deep-rooted conflict, but additionally both the nature
of those parties and their permutations alter over time. An ex-
treme example of an inclusive definition of participants is the
number of participants in the Basque conflict in Spain. As many
71
Negotiation Process
as two dozen identifiable groups had a stake in the negotiations,

which could be grouped into four categories: ETA itself, with all
of its factions, members in prison or in exile, and their families;
other Basque groups, including the Basque autonomous region-
al government and the political parties and media associated
with it; the Spanish government and its associated political par-
ties and media; and international groups, including govern-
ments of other nations (neighbouring France, which also has a
Basque population, and Algeria) and organizations such as Am-
nesty International and Interpol.
Such a bewildering “universe of parties” is typical of the com-
plexity of long-standing and deep-rooted conflicts. This may in-
dicate a need to subgroup the participants, for example into ex-
ternal and internal parties, or to subgroup the issues around
which negotiations can be structured. Techniques to do this are
addressed in later sections. To take the Ethiopian example, the
deep divisions between the groupings fighting for self-determi-
nation produced a situation in 1989 where two separate and dis-
tinct sets of dialogue processes were opened with the govern-
ment: one with the EPLF and one with the TPLF. To divide the
talks groups in this way can be effective, as long as its overall ef-
fect is not divisive. But the main point remains that exclusion,
abstention or withdrawal of parties needs to be acknowledged,
addressed and provided for during the pre-negotiation phase of
process design.
A related and pressing question refers to the proportions in
which parties should be represented. Does every party get an
equal number of delegates? Or do bigger parties get more? Is
there a good reason to assign spokesperson roles to some parties
or some negotiators, and observer status to others? Is there a
basic accreditation process which determines entry to talks?
AMONG THE OPTIONS FOR RESOLVING THE

QUESTION OF PARTICIPATION ARE:
– to open channels of communication, however small

or informal, in an attempt to start the contact and
communication;
– to take the time to include all parties with a serious
claim to be involved;
– to build a sufficient mainstream-based pro-negotiation
coalition to open talks with some substantial hope of
72

Negotiation Process
achieving an outcome, and hope to co-opt abstainers,

or persuade excluded parties to adapt their behaviour
to fit the rules of entry;
– to open negotiations with a less than comprehensive
range of parties, with the aim of achieving a
settlement that excluded parties can be persuaded to
live with;
– to limit participation only to those parties who enjoy
substantial support, whether that is defined electorally
or otherwise;
– to specify equal numbers of delegates per party;
– to allow variable delegation sizes based on electoral
strength or status (where elections have been held);
– to place an electoral or other threshold to restrict or
enable participation;
– to allow for different degrees of status in the process
(e.g., participant and observer) for different parties;
– to distinguish any groupings within the negotiation
process who may be opposed on some, possibly major,
issues but share positions on others.
3.4.2 Preconditions and barriers to negotiations

Preconditions are core areas of concern that must be dealt
with before initiating negotiation on the substantive issues. The
early settling of certain preconditions – particularly regarding
the use of violence – are frequently a necessary part of bringing
negotiation into being. For many “rebel” groups in conflict with
a government, the precondition of a cease-fire, or of disarma-
ment, is deeply threatening. And yet it can be a vital require-
ment for the government, who may see it primarily as a question
of legitimizing their opposition. But for the rebels, participation
in their rebellion has become a defining element of their iden-
tity. To give that up threatens their sense of self, their group
coherence, the core of their existence, and the source of their
power. Nonetheless, in various contexts, solutions to these core
concerns have been devised.
In South Africa, the ANC’s agreement to suspend their armed
struggle – notably and consciously distinct from abandoning it –
facilitated a move towards dialogue. A government insistence on
permanent disarming would have made progress impossible at
73
Negotiation Process
that stage. In Angola, El Salvador and elsewhere the UN has ef-

fectively acted as a third-party recipient of decommissioned wea-
ponry. In Northern Ireland, the question of paramilitary disar-
mament stalled negotiations for two years. Eventually, an inde-
pendent commission devised a set of six principles of non-vio-
lence that every party would have to endorse to gain access to
the negotiation process. These included a commitment to exclu-
sively peaceful means of resolving political issues, and – signifi-
cantly – a renunciation of force either to influence the negotia-
tions or to alter their outcome. With all parties signed up to the
principles, the obstacle of the disarmament precondition was by-
passed, and its significance reduced to more manageable pro-
portions. Inclusive talks began.
A similar, yet slightly different, problem can produce barriers
to negotiation. This is where a party refuses to enter negotia-
tions for one of two reasons: a refusal to talk to a particular per-
son or group, or a refusal to accept a particular issue as nego-
tiable. The first problem, rejection of a person or group, is usu-
ally based upon their actions in the history of the conflict.
Someone now in a negotiating team is seen as responsible for
inflicting particular wounds, physical or otherwise, on their op-
ponents. The opponents feel they will not, or cannot be seen to,
deal with such a person. They may be reacting to a past leader
of a violent guerrilla campaign, or perhaps to a government mi-
nister who was responsible for particularly harsh oppressive
measures. For whatever reason, something in the person’s past
actions makes him or her unacceptable. It may be that persua-
sion, or pronouncements by the person concerned, will be
enough to remove the objection. Perhaps some actions by them
in the present can go far enough to soften the perception of
them. But perhaps not.
Mandela’s words come to mind again in this instance: that
one must make peace with one’s enemies. By definition, in this
kind of context, enemies tend to have blood on their hands.
One approach to this barrier is to set the personalities aside long
enough to discuss and agree the general terms for admission to
talks. Britain’s refusal to negotiate with the IRA in formal session
was based in large part on the IRA’s history of killing British sol-
diers and the British tradition of, in the Thatcherite mantra,
“not talking to terrorists” (or at least not being seen to be doing
so). As noted, this proved an insuperable obstacle to progress
until the issue was broadened to the more general level of the
terms of admission to which all parties, including the IRA’s polit-
ical party Sinn Fein, could agree.
74

Negotiation Process
There is a need to be creative when it is clear that the pres-

ence of a party is critical to the success of the talks and there is
a refusal on the part of one party to even talk to the other. Thus
the refusal by the Indonesia’s Suharto Government to enter into
talks with the East Timorese over the issue of independence has
led to a situation where the talks are now between Portugal and
the Indonesian Government. Clearly the exclusion of the East
Timorese is a major hurdle to the conducting of effective nego-
tiations and needs to be addressed before substantive progress is
likely to be made.
The problem can be just as difficult when one side identifies
a particular issue as non-negotiable. They will talk with the opposi-
tion about a variety of other subjects, but this one in particular
is too precious to them and they cannot compromise. Govern-
ments tend to feel this way about territorial integrity: rebels
demanding secession are, to the government, asking the impos-
sible. Conversely, anything that can be interpreted as surrender
– including the handing in of weapons prior to a settlement –
may be an impossibility to the rebels. No facile technique can be
prescribed for progress. Either compensation can be offered, so
that both sides resist or yield equally on the issue, or a broader
debate on the underlying issues can bring wider perspective and
redefinition of the terms for entry. But at bottom, the readiness
or otherwise to enter talks with the enemy comes down to the
parties’ real readiness to make peace or their depth of frustra-
tion in continuing to make war. Indeed, such barriers may be an
expression that parties are not ready to enter a full talks phase.
Rather than try to achieve a settlement while such subjective
and perceptual antagonisms remain strong, time might be best
spent by a third party, through unofficial communication chan-
nels, facilitating intra-party discussion on the potential benefits
of talks and the distance yet to be travelled before those benefits
materialize. A parallel pre-negotiation process focused only on
procedural issues may help to build the foundations of a work-
ing relationship and place distance between the violence of the
past and the potential of the present.
On the other hand, there may be issues which are important
to the parties and which can be agreed in advance as guiding
principles that may serve as the basis for further possible dis-
cussions. In the conflict in the Sudan, which is still continuing, the
contending parties nonetheless reached agreement in Septem-
ber 1994 on a “Declaration of Principles”, including matters
75
Negotiation Process
such as the maintenance of the unity of the Sudanese State and

rights relating to self-determination.
THE OPTIONS REGARDING PRECONDITIONS

COMPRISE:
– to drop preconditions to negotiations, and accept all

comers and issues;
– to use the pre-negotiation process to work through
preconditions and questions of legitimacy and
recognition of spokespersons;
– to open out preconditions initially aimed at one party
into a principled statement to which all parties can
and must agree;
– to address preconditions and the commitment to the
negotiation process in an unofficial discussion process
prior to formal negotiation.
3.4.3 Levelling the playing-field

All too often, conflicting parties approach the end-game of
conflict – the hurting stalemate – in an asymmetrical relationship.
Asymmetry refers to their relative power positions: one is disad-
vantaged where the other holds formal power. They are not
evenly matched, not symmetrical. William Zartman offers the
classic scenario of asymmetrical power, where rebels contest
with government: “The government has ... sovereignty, allies,
arms, and access to resources. The insurgents have to fight for
all of these. Moreover, the government determines ... the rules
of the game for the rebellion’s struggle … It is both participant
and umpire”.
So while a government or central authority has ready access
to power, controlling the nation’s financial and military resour-
ces, their opponents’ access to resources is usually a more
difficult matter, often reliant on covert sources. But at the same
time, the asymmetry is modified by several factors. First, the
rebels’ intense commitment to their cause as the single defining
mission of their existence creates an obvious challenge to the
other’s straightforward application of its power. As any govern-
ment knows well, a very small force, given adequate arms and
training, can create a destabilizing effect out of all proportion to
its size. That potential, of the small to thwart the powerful, con-
strains in very practical terms the government’s ability to exer-
76

Negotiation Process
cise its considerable power. Second, most governments have a

multifaceted agenda whose scope reaches well beyond just con-
taining or ending the rebellion; with their responsibility for all
the other business of governing, their resources are spread broad-
ly over a wider range of interests. Third, external factors can
work indirectly to mitigate the differences in the power rela-
tions. An international perception of the justness of the rebel
cause can constrain the government’s wielding of its power. Eco-
nomic and other sanctions exercised against the South African
and Rhodesian (Zimbabwean) regimes are clear examples of
this. Fourth, weaker parties themselves often address the ques-
tion by finding powerful allies, sometimes internal but more fre-
quently external, to the conflict. The Liberation Tigers of Tamil
Eelam (LTTE) drew at one stage of their struggle active support
from powerful elements in India, including elements within the
Indian Government itself. Similarly, in the cases of UNITA in
Angola and of RENAMO in Mozambique, their continued abili-
ty to fight depended for some considerable time on the support
of the South African regime. In a reverse example, in 1991 the
PLO suffered a considerable setback and lost considerable resour-
ces from traditionally supportive Arab states when it declared
itself in favour of Iraq during the Gulf War.
How do we make the playing-field level? How do we ensure
that all parties regard the process as legitimate? The main con-
centration here is not in the power balance in the great scheme
of things, but in the situation at the negotiating table. One level-
ling effect comes from the parties’ acceptance of each other’s
right to be at the table. Simply agreeing to talk confers recogni-
tion and legitimacy on spokespersons. This mutual acceptance is
an admission of some kind of equality. And even if that equality
exists only while the parties are in the negotiation situation (and
it may often be impossible for a powerful party to acknowledge
such legitimacy anywhere else) that may be enough to facilitate
talks.
However, simply within the talks context, there will often still
remain a resource asymmetry. Good process design entails ensur-
ing that resources on all sides are distributed equitably. That will
mean allowing time for preparation, education and familiariza-
tion with the process of negotiation. A government with its full-
scale administrative capacity, advisors and resources, is obvious-
ly at a huge negotiating advantage over a small insurrectionist
movement with a handful of lieutenants more familiar with mil-
itary tactics than political discourse. Suddenly, they must act as a
77
Negotiation Process
fully fledged political party, when in fact they have had little op-
portunity to develop such skills.
And so time may be needed for preparation before talks. Po-
litical and technical education may be vital in order to reduce
the relative disadvantage. This is not a patronizing expression of
sympathy for the underdog; rather it is in everyone’s interests. If
one side in the negotiation process is at a serious disadvantage
in terms of skill and experience, the likelihood of either side
coming away from the table satisfied is dramatically decreased.
In any case, the need for such assistance and familiarization in
political and negotiating processes – in particular, within the
social context of the conflict – is by no means restricted to the
relatively small or the weak.
Levelling the playing-field is about establishing equity in the
negotiating process between all parties. It promotes equitable
participation at the negotiation table, so that no party has a
monopoly or a preponderance of legitimacy or authority. The
procedural rules, agreed in advance, must deal with this.
IN ORDER TO LEVEL THE PLAYING-FIELD AND

PERMIT EQUITABLE NEGOTIATIONS, THE OPTIONS
INCLUDE:
– to accept, at least within the negotiation context, the

right of all sides to be present;
– to agree on procedures permitting the involvement of
previously excluded or restricted persons;
– to schedule time and resources to permit all parties to
come to the table prepared;
– to make contact with, and learn from, counterparts
from other contexts;
– to look to an external powerful mediator or
chairperson both to bestow at least temporary
legitimacy on all parties equally for the duration of
talks, and to underwrite the equality of all parties at
the table.
3.4.4 Resourcing the negotiations

Negotiations must be adequately resourced to ensure effec-
tive participation and efficient conduct of the proceedings. That
means not only such mundane but important provisions as sec-
retarial backup, financial support, communication and informa-
78

Negotiation Process
tion-gathering channels, residential facilities, and so on, but pro-

viding these resources equally to all parties. The larger the scale
of the negotiations – because of a wide variety of parties and size-
able delegations of each – the greater the need for such practi-
cal and material resources on an equal footing. Prolonged nego-
tiations will not come cheap, and it is almost assured that some
parties will find it much easier to meet the cost than others. An
external funder – an interested government or international
agency, or a relevant NGO or foundation – may be in a position
to underwrite the costs.
Experience overwhelmingly teaches that the negotiation
process tends to be neither quick nor economical. Provision
must be made for considerable time spent away from the formal
sessions at the table. Many parties will have other responsibilities
(running a country, dealing with constituents, maintaining press
relations, and so on) which do not cease to intrude just because
of the talks.
THE OPTIONS FOR RESOURCING COMPRISE:

– negotiations which are self-funded by each side;
– negotiations in which one party offers to resource most
or all of the negotiations;
– negotiations in which contributions from other
domestic actors are sought;
– negotiations funded by international bodies.
3.4.5 The form of negotiations

The form the negotiations take will be determined by the
number of participants and the range of issues to be addressed.
A brief survey of negotiations over the last quarter-century indi-
cates a wide range of options, from internal and private discus-
sions, through indirect (i.e., not face-to-face) talks, proximity
talks (on the same site, but with bilateral communication medi-
ated by a third party), round table discussions, all-party confe-
rences, conventions and summits, to full-fledged direct and offi-
cial negotiations, whether assisted by third parties or not.
The context will indicate some possibilities more than others.
As ever, the best formula may be a mixture of several options at
different stages.
Large-scale conferences can be immensely useful in signalling
the opening of a negotiation process, as they can be appropriate
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Negotiation Process
for the presentation of a final settlement. They do not in gen-

eral facilitate substantive discussions and deal making, because of
their size and formality. (However, see the section on National
Conferences in the following chapter for some counter-examples).
Summits of key spokespersons – high-profile short-term events
with small numbers of delegates – can be useful for talking
through key issues. The high rank of those present can guaran-
tee their immediate official endorsement of any agreement. The
public nature, however, raises the stakes considerably by putting
extreme pressure on the participants for a result by the end of
proceedings.
Round table discussions including all parties are a key ele-
ment of any negotiation process. But the breadth of attendance
and the formality of proceedings can encourage a stiff, rhetoric-
based atmosphere not particularly conducive to real deal-
making. Plenaries, however, can be the ideal place in which to
formally endorse conclusions and agreements reached on
agenda items.
Subgroup or subcommittee discussions – where each party is
represented but in much smaller numbers than in plenary – fa-
cilitate substantive negotiation over specific agenda items, while
also allowing a much faster process of information exchange
and decision-making. They can also be the place for more plain
speaking than formal meetings. But their smallness of scale and
narrowness of agenda means they need to be backed up with en-
dorsement from the fuller plenaries.
Shuttle mediation – meetings between the mediator and one
party at a time – is a very useful way of indirectly channelling in-
formation through the third party to the other conflicting par-
ties. It also provides an opportunity to make clear one’s own
point of view without argument from opponents, in the know-
ledge that the clear expression of that view will reach them via
the chair or mediator. If there is a problem bringing the parties
into a face-to-face situation, either for the first time or because
of some impasse reached in direct talks, then shuttling can be a
very useful exercise in clarifying positions and maintaining con-
tact. There is no strict rule here and the mediator may decide if
it is necessary to put the parties together at any stage of the pro-
ceedings in order to clarify issues or to debate a point. Proximity
talks are a similar, if not identical, version of this procedure: par-
ties are located close by, in different rooms of the same building
or perhaps in adjacent buildings. A chair shuttles between them
one at a time, or calls them in separately for talks.
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Negotiation Process
Bilateral discussions – i.e., face-to-face talks between two par-

ties directly – can be official or unofficial. When they are unoffi-
cial, co-ordinated through confidential third parties, through
unofficial communication channels, or in secret face-to-face en-
counters, they may have great value in clarifying perceptions of
one side by another, and in defining the priorities of each and
the distance between them. Once that has been achieved,
though, unofficial talks lack the official imprimatur necessary to
produce any formal or lasting agreement. But they can be a vital
requirement in paving the way toward that goal.
Disaggregation – i.e., a mixture of plenaries and subgroups –
involves dividing the workload between subgroups whose task is
to prepare specific proposals on particular parts of the agenda,
for consideration in plenary sessions. It is still important that all
parties should be involved at all levels of the negotiation process.
Every effort should be made to resolve differences at the disag-
gregated level because resolution becomes more difficult in larg-
er and more formal forums. But the plenary sessions still carry
more formality and official sanction, and should remain the ulti-
mate authority for approving subgroup proposals. The subcom-
mittees can work on a much smaller scale to deal with a specific
issue, and report back to the fuller table. This not only saves
time and avoids rhetoric, but additionally functions to chip off
workable pieces of what can seem an overwhelmingly complex
and daunting agenda.
The Northern Ireland talks process of 1997–1998 is an example
of disaggregating agenda items according to which parties they
pertain most closely to. The agenda was separated (during
previous pre-negotiation efforts) into three strands. Strand One,
concerning power-sharing structures within Northern Ireland,
involved the Northern Irish political parties and the British
Government; Strand Two, concerning the relationship between
the two parts of Ireland, also brought in the Irish Republic’s
Government; while Strand Three, focusing on a new British-
Irish treaty, involved only the Irish and British Governments,
with other parties included only as observers. The three strands
were designed to run simultaneously, each with a different
independent chair, and with regular reporting to full plenary
sessions for appraisal.
In South Africa, a comprehensive disaggregating process was
initiated in the Convention for a Democratic South Africa
(CODESA), with three main elements. The negotiating forum
formed the overall plenary authority in the process. Then five
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Negotiation Process
working groups were given responsibility for specific elements of

the agenda, reporting ultimately to the plenary forum. At a third
level, technical committees, unlike the other elements, were
explicitly not negotiating forums. They comprised not party ne-
gotiators, but rather non-party experts on the topic at hand, who
were requested to prepare proposals for consideration by the
plenary forum. Interestingly, while ultimate authority remained
with the forum, the other levels exercised great influence on the
process, with a “timeframes working group” virtually imposing
deadlines on the process, and a “constitutional technical com-
mittee” completing the bulk of the all-important drafting of the
new constitution.
Where disparate views emerge in subgroups, they may be
reflected in alternative proposals that can be debated and decided
upon in plenary session. Another strategy, although a poten-
tially divisive one unless circumstances particularly encourage it,
is to produce both majority and minority proposals or reports,
which represent both the greater opinion grouping and the dis-
senting voice.
A WIDE VARIETY OF OPTIONS FOR THE FORM THAT

NEGOTIATIONS CAN TAKE INCLUDE:
– Large-scale conferences;
– Summits of key spokespersons;
– Full round table sessions;
– Shuttle mediation;
– Bilateral discussions;
– A mixed formula of plenaries and subgroups;
– Acknowledgement of dissenting coalitions by means
of minority reports;
– Defining different roles and capacities for negotiators
and observers.
3.4.6 Venue and location

While the question of where to hold talks seems a straightfor-
ward consideration, it can become a highly divisive issue. A venue
can carry deep symbolism. If talks are held on the “home ter-
ritory” of one side, the other side may perceive an unfair bias
against them. As with so many issues in the delicate dance of ne-
gotiation, even if in reality such a venue offers little or no advan-
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Negotiation Process
tage to the “home team”, the perception of bias can be enough

to obstruct progress.
A neutral venue, of course, circumvents this problem. But care
needs to be taken in defining such neutrality. If talks are held in
a third country, quite outside the conflict territory, is that third
country perceived as being more friendly to one side than
another? If so, neutrality disappears again. Even if the neutrality
is accepted all round, is access to the host country evenly dis-
tributed? In a situation where the conflicting parties are a gov-
ernment and an insurgent movement, how free are the insur-
gents to travel across borders, in comparison to government per-
sonnel? While a government will usually have access to all the
resources necessary – air transport, travel documents, finance,
and so on – insurgents may, by definition, be denied passports
and have limited resources for international travel. This was the
position of West Bank/Gaza Palestinians for many years; since
they were not permitted Israeli passports, unless they themselves
possessed other nationalities which provided them with passports,
it was difficult for them to travel to or from outside countries.
The arrangements at the venue itself need some considera-
tion. The general principle holds that all manner of resources –
from secretarial help to communication access, to private space,
and so on – need to be seen to be provided equally to all. And
thought needs to go into the situation beyond the formal facili-
ties. Is there room for the equivalent of what was known at the
1978 Camp David talks between Israel, Egypt and the USA as a
“walk in the woods”? This was the term coined for quiet, confi-
dential and unofficial discussions between individuals away from
the negotiating room. Former Finnish President Kekkonen was
famous for holding sensitive foreign policy discussions with
Soviet leaders in the relaxed and private environment of his
estate’s sauna. Such unofficial exchanges do much to lubricate
the wheels of the formal negotiation process. This is what for-
mer Norwegian diplomat Jan Egeland said of the talks in Oslo:
“
One of the advantages of the Oslo channel over the traditional
conference diplomacy was the informal and undisturbed
venue … an atmosphere of mutual trust and affinity was
allowed to develop between people who spent hundreds of hours
working, quarrelling and eating together in front of Norwegian
fireplaces and surrounded only by peaceful countryside.
Negotiation Process
In general, then, both location and venue itself must be

appropriate in terms of:
– size and suitability: from adequate space for plenaries and for
formal as well as informal small-group work to such simple
details as catering;
– security: of personnel as well as regarding confidentiality of
discussions and papers;
– equal accessibility: to the venue as well as to means of travel
to and from the location.
Some examples of differing venue formulas include the 1978
talks at Camp David, the isolated and well-protected presidential
retreat in the US, where Israeli and Egyptian delegations could
be housed in separate buildings within the compound, meeting
in President Carter’s building; the 1991 London conference on
the Ethiopian conflict, hosted by Britain but mediated by the
US; the neutral location of Geneva for a 1983 conference on
Lebanon mediated by Saudi Arabia; the 1991 Madrid confer-
ence which launched the Arab-Israeli peace process; Northern
Ireland negotiations in 1992 which moved between locations in
Belfast, Dublin and London to satisfy competing aspirations
over the symbolism of location; and the 1990 church-hosted
talks in Rome on the Mozambique conflict.
OPTIONS FOR VENUE CONSIDERATIONS COMPRISE:

– identifying a neutral venue, of no particular
symbolism or support to any one party;
– agreeing on a domestic venue acceptable to all
parties;
– assuring equal accessibility to the venue for all parties;
– the supplementing of official or formal discussion
forums by unofficial, off-the-record and possibly
deniable channels of communication outside and
around the formal table.
3.4.7 Communication and information exchange

Transparency and confidentiality produce a difficult tension
in the negotiating process. But whether proceedings are open or
closed, in whole or in part, will depend upon how the parties
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Negotiation Process
choose to reconcile the interests of keeping the public informed

with that of creating an environment where they can explore
options and proposals in a secure and uninhibited way. Public
support may be a necessary spur to the momentum of the talks
process, or an obstacle that reduces the freedom of parties to
engage in serious negotiation. Transparency helps reduce out-
side suspicion aroused by the confidentiality of the process, and
it can be a vital preparation to “selling” the resulting outcome to
the population at large.
Where the media is excluded, and the talks held in complete
confidentiality, participants are obviously more free to speak
openly, and more able to explore positions and outcomes with-
out committing themselves. As long as the end result of the
negotiations is agreed by all, confidentiality during the process
permits a party to accept a loss on today’s agenda item in order
to gain on tomorrow’s, without any accusations from outside of
weakness in concession. One’s constituency outside the talks
cannot constrain one’s freedom of operation.
This was a major advantage in pre-negotiations during the
“Oslo channel” talks between Israel and the PLO. But that final
result may be more of a surprise to constituents when presented
as a fait accompli, which may breed resentment. Caught up in the
momentum of positive but confidential talks, a party can find
they have a “re-entry problem” when they leave the heat of nego-
tiations in order to explain an agreement, which may contain
compromises, to their larger constituency. This aspect, which we
shall call “constituency lag”, can hold implications for the struc-
ture of the talks: it may be necessary to take frequent breaks to
enable consultations with constituents.
On the other hand, the media can be actively used in order
to make official one’s bargaining position at any given point,
and also to help keep one’s constituency informed and abreast
of progress. Regular media reports also serve to reduce suspi-
cion among the public of “deals behind closed doors”. In par-
ticular, if there are excluded fringe elements outside the talks,
the appearance of secret negotiations might well fuel their
antagonism; greater transparency, by keeping the public
informed, can be a strong defence against such antagonism and
help to defuse the spoilers’ capacity.
The obvious way to inform the public is via the media. So the
question of who deals with the media, and through what chan-
nels and processes, needs agreement prior to the beginning of
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Negotiation Process
the process. The importance of this cannot be overstressed: lack

of forethought on the topic in Belfast in 1991, beyond a hastily
agreed press embargo, led to a situation where parties manipu-
lated the news-hungry media to their own ends, leaking (and in
some cases selling for cash) their opponents’ confidential posi-
tion papers.
Secondly, what facilities are there for communication between
the conflicting parties? Away from the formal table, they may
well need to communicate their thoughts on various topics to
each other. This is often done by circulating position papers for
consideration. Will a central secretariat fulfil such a function? Or
can a subcommittee with members from all parties do the job?
DEPENDING ON THE SPECIFIC SITUATION, PROCESS

DESIGNERS CAN CHOOSE AMONG THE FOLLOWING
PROCEDURES WITH RESPECT TO COMMUNICATION
AND INFORMATION EXCHANGE:
– secret negotiations out of all sight;

– closed negotiation sessions, with occasional or regular
progress reports to the outside world, agreed by all
parties;
– an agreed press embargo among all participants (with
enforcement mechanisms to be negotiated among the
parties);
– relations with the media being at each party’s
discretion;
– ceding the public relations role by agreement to the
chairperson or mediator;
– establishing a permanent press secretariat to manage
media relations on behalf of all;
– establishing a central secretariat to channel
information between the parties;
– forming a subcommittee with responsibility for inter-
party communication.
3.4.8 Setting the agenda

Participants need to know and agree in advance the broad
subject matter of the negotiations. It can be completely destabi-
lizing to open up new and unforeseen substantive issues in the
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Negotiation Process
midst of the negotiation process (unless, of course, it is part of

extending or deepening the process by building on initial nego-
tiating successes). So it is important to define the shape of the
agenda, whether in a distinct pre-negotiation process, or in an
initial phase of the formal negotiations. This does not involve actu-
ally addressing the substantive issues, but it does mean defining,
listing and ordering them to the reasonable satisfaction of all.
The agenda for negotiations obviously depends very closely
on the specific conflict. But at this preparation stage, it is impor-
tant to agree at least minimally what the problems are, and what
the requirements of their solution must cover. A generic ex-
ample of the kind of basic structure needed is offered bellow.
1. MEASURES TO ESTABLISH PERMANENT PEACE:

– Reconciliation
– Reparation
– Restoration
– Security
– Boundary drawing (where relevant)
2. MEASURES TO ESTABLISH A DEMOCRATIC

STRUCTURE AND TO PROMOTE HUMAN RIGHTS:
– A Constitution
– A Bill of Rights
– Institutions and levels of government
3. MEASURES TO PROMOTE ECONOMIC

RECONSTRUCTION AND DEVELOPMENT:
– Aid
– Inward investment
– Strategic deployment of resources
– External relations
Beyond the ingredients of the agenda, agreement is needed

on how to address it. Can “easier” and more “difficult” items be
identified? If so, context alone can tell whether it will be more
productive to tackle easier items first, the better to build momentum
and co-operative attitudes, or whether difficult but key issues, on
which there is little current agreement, must be tackled first
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Negotiation Process
because other issues cannot become clear except in the light of

agreement over the core issues. A further aspect is what should
happen if there is deadlock on a key issue: should it be deferred
out to a separate structure for discussion or does it have to be
resolved there and then? What is the correct approach to be
taken? Is it desirable to start with “soft” issues to show the parties
that the process can deliver, or is that not possible?
CHOICES ON AGENDA SETTING WILL HAVE TO BE

MADE BETWEEN:
– establishing pre-negotiation processes, either public or

private, and possibly with a reduced number of dele-
gates, to define the agenda prior to formal negotiation;
– using the formal negotiation process to resolve
procedural and agenda matters;
– ordering agenda items according to contentiousness
and importance;
– adopting a long-range policy of a series of negotiations,
each building on the achievements of the last.
3.4.9 Managing the proceedings

Who will chair and referee the proceedings? Under what
standing orders? How will time be allotted to speakers? Is there
a finite deadline for the end of talks? What ground-rules need to
be agreed? What recording process will be used? Who will be res-
ponsible for it?
The key question of who chairs the proceedings needs to be
agreed early on. Parties may devolve the responsibility on a rota-
ting basis among themselves, or the responsibility may be assu-
med by an acceptable individual, a representative from an inter-
national agency, a friendly country, a wholly non-involved state,
or from the country hosting the negotiations. Elements that
must be considered will include not only the acceptability of the
individual, organization or state to all participants, but also the
relevance and particular suitability and skills of the individuals
concerned. Of course, sometimes the question of a chair is not
a matter of choice for the conflicting parties but is imposed
upon them by an external sponsor or mediator.
In South Africa, a system was devised of rotating the chair
among all parties equally. In Northern Ireland, a former US sen-
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Negotiation Process
ator was installed as overall chair of the process, with a Canadian

and a Finn as vice-chairs. For Bosnia, the chair/mediator was a
state – the US at Dayton. In Mozambique, the chair was a religious
NGO, Sant’Egidio.
CONTEXT WILL SUGGEST WHICH IS THE MOST

SUITABLE WAY TO MANAGE THE PROCEEDINGS:
– negotiation of a system of sharing the chair in such a

way that no one party can benefit from their chairing
either in general or on key specific agenda items;
– selection of a party totally suitable to all concerned;
– selection of a party minimally acceptable to all
concerned;
– identification of the key skills necessary for the
function;
– selection of a party with authority to overrule all
concerned if necessary;
– selection of an unempowered party dependent on
continuing consensus among all concerned.
3.4.10 Timeframes
The question of time is central. Are the negotiations to be lim-
ited by a prearranged deadline? Or are they to be open-ended,
continuing for however long it takes to build an outcome? This
varies depending on the context, but “ripe moments” for negotia-
tion tend to be short-lived, in effect providing their own deadline.
One side of the argument insists that deadlines are necessary
to push people towards success. The other side of the argument
is that with endless time available, the urgency to pressure par-
ticipants into concessions and agreement is missing. Moreover,
participants may be tempted to use delaying tactics if there is
little or no time pressure. A party which is a reluctant participant
– which sees the status quo ante as at least no worse than a likely
outcome – can effectively draw out discussions and delay pro-
gress, if there is no pressure on them to make progress or take
the blame for failure. This is what Unionists did in Northern Ire-
land in 1991 (partly because they did not believe the seriousness
of the official deadline), and arguably what Israeli Prime Mi-
nister Netanyahu has done regarding talks with the Palestinians.
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Negotiation Process
On the other hand, deadlines may force people to move fas-

ter than they are comfortable with, producing a rushed and in-
complete outcome. Surprisingly often, negotiations are given
only days or weeks to put an end to years or even decades of bit-
ter conflict. The fear of appearing to be the party who blocked
a successful outcome by refusing to compromise can be a healthy
spur, but it can also force an unwilling outcome which is sub-
sequently undermined or disowned.
If there truly is a very limited time available, one response is
to set limited goals for the negotiations – the establishment of a
truce and verification mechanism, or the establishment of a body
(agreeing on its participants, its procedural rules, defining its
remit, and so on) which will subsequently continue the work.
Achieving such limited but significant success can in itself renew
the momentum for further negotiations and thus extend or en-
large the window of opportunity. The process becomes in effect
one consisting of several negotiating stages.
The Dayton conference, hosted and tightly controlled by the
US at all times, became almost the quintessential example of
heavy deadline pressure being imposed from a third party (the
US) on the negotiating Bosnian leaders. While the effect was to
produce an agreement by the deadline, the quality, depth and
applicability of the agreement, and the commitment of partici-
pants to its implementation, suffered as a result (see Bosnia Case
Study). Similarly, the 1978 Camp David Accord was produced
under very strong pressure from Carter on both Sadat and Begin
to reach agreement before the end of the session or take the
blame for failure. Such pressure has a positive side, focusing
minds on the task at hand, and increasing the chance of con-
cessions in order to avoid perceived failure. But again at Camp
David, the breadth and long-term substance of the agreement
suffered as a result.
OPTIONS ON TIMEFRAMES INCLUDE:

– no time-limits: participants remain until the job is done;
– a pre-agreed time-limit;
– a realistic limit on the goals to be achieved within the
time available;
– aiming for a comprehensive settlement of all aspects
of the dispute;
– an option for further negotiating period/s following
success in the initial period.
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Negotiation Process
3.4.11 Decision-making
At regular intervals during negotiations, decisions will have to
be made. Are we agreed on this agenda point, and can we then
build on that agreement to move on? Decisions must be reached
in such a way that all – or most – of the parties accept the legiti-
macy and binding nature of the agreement. But it is important
to establish this in advance. If a party can renege on an earlier
agreed point at a later stage, there is a danger of the entire pro-
cess falling apart before completion. Some mechanism must be
established for defining binding agreement in the negotiation
process.
Further, how is agreement to be confirmed? Do parties have
an overnight period to confirm acceptance of the point by others
(perhaps their political leaders) not present at the table? Again,
is each point agreed permanently before moving on to the next?
If that is so, it may mean that even if talks fall apart later, all the
agreements established prior to the break-up remain. Or is
there a banking principle at work, as in Northern Ireland?
Under that system, “nothing is finally agreed until everything is
agreed”. The parties put the agreed points “in the bank” for
future reference, only to be finally agreed when the agenda had
been completed.
The plus side of this is that a party can see the value of con-
ceding on one point in order to gain on another, on the under-
standing that they will be able to calculate the balance of conces-
sions and gains before finally approving the whole agreement.
The down side is that this tends to produce an all-or-nothing
character to the talks: if negotiations break off before full com-
pletion, then most or all of the agreements reached up to that
point may be disowned, and any future process will have to be-
gin all over again.
Cyril Ramaphosa described the South African decision-mak-
ing formula thus: “All agreements and decisions were to be ar-
rived at by general consensus among all the parties. When gen-
eral consensus couldn’t be achieved, decisions were to be taken
on the basis of sufficient consensus. Sufficient consensus was de-
fined as a process of reaching agreement that would take us to
the next step. Essentially, it finally meant that there had to be
sufficient agreement between two parties or within two parties.
Those parties were the National Party and the ANC. The parties
who disagreed with the decision could have their objections for-
mally recorded, but in the spirit of co-operation they understood
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Negotiation Process
that they could not hinder the process from moving forward.”
Ramaphosa is quoted elsewhere more succinctly, admitting that,
“sufficient consensus means if the ANC and the NP agree, the
rest can get stuffed”.
The point is well made that “sufficient consensus” needs to be
worked out for the specific context, with regard to the number
of parties present, their relative strengths, commitment to the
process and potential for disruption. Effectively, in this instance,
it was the reality that if the two mainstream parties managed
consensus, it was difficult for the other, much smaller, parties to
challenge it in any effective way.
Similar considerations about facilitating the mainstreams on
both sides led to a more intricately defined formula in Northern
Ireland in 1997. There, “sufficient consensus” was calculated ac-
cording to the electoral strengths of the negotiating parties as-
sessed at the pre-talks election, and boiled down to the require-
ment that any decision had the support of a straight majority on
each side – that is, the support of parties representing more
than 50 per cent of Unionist voters as well as more than 50 per
cent of Nationalist voters.
And how will the final agreement – the completed and agreed
outcome – be officially endorsed or ratified? Is it enough if all
parties make a joint announcement giving their approval to the
result? Or is a referendum necessary among all the represented
constituencies in order to bestow public and official endorse-
ment on the outcome? There might need to be a calculation of
the risk involved in taking the agreement to the people. They
might possibly reject it (but that would indicate its unsuitability,
in any case). Or the debate leading up to such a referendum
could give excluded or spoiling parties the chance to forge sup-
port for their arguments in public in order to undermine the
outcome. But certainly such public endorsement gives the out-
come an unquestionable legitimacy, as demonstrated by the
overwhelming support for the Northern Irish settlment in a
referendum in 1998.
THE MOST SUITABLE FORMULA FOR DECISION-MAKING

MUST BE AGREED AMONG THE NEGOTIATING PARTIES.
BUT SOME OF THE OPTIONS WILL INCLUDE:
– Total agreement: all parties must endorse a point for
it to be agreed;
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3.5 Basic Techniques for

Negotiation
– Simple majority acceptance: more than half the

parties or delegates agree;
– Consensus: the point is defined and refined until all
can agree to it;
– Sufficient consensus: a certain specified proportion of
the parties or delegates must agree to the point (the
exact proportion or criteria to be pre-agreed, and
dependent on the number of parties, their relative
sizes, and their ability to “sell” the agreement to their
broader constituencies);
– Secret ballots to discover the degree of consensus;
– An open show of hands to discover the voting
preferences;
(NB: there is a slight difference between agreement and
consensus. The latter implies that discussion continues
until the parties find the best compromise that they can
all live with. Agreement, of course, can be exactly that,
but may also constitute the preference of one party who
prevails over others, as opposed to a genuine
compromise).
– Final ratification by parties, or endorsement by
referendum of the final outcome.
3.5 Basic Techniques for Negotiation

Techniques and strategies for negotiation are highly depen- Underpinning every
dent on context. Both the context and the creativity of the par- point mentioned in
ticipants must guide and provide the choice of on-the-spot re-
this section is one
action to the specific situation. Extensive, high-quality books on
the topic already exist (see “References and Further Reading” at simple principle: good
the end of this chapter). However, some general, simple advice process helps everyone
can be offered which may prove useful and applicable in a nego- involved, because
tiation. Some are very personal and individual tips; others are
good process increases
simple tactics for improving one’s performance in talks.
Depending on the situation, some are relatively straightforward the chances of good
while others will prove difficult. But all are worth considering outcome.
throughout the process.
This advice is not aimed at helping a conflicting party win at
the expense of the opposition. It is concerned with implement-
ing good process, to the advantage of all. Underpinning every
point mentioned in this section is one simple principle: good
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Negotiation
process helps everyone involved, because good process increases

the chances of good outcome. Good process complements the
natural competition of negotiation by generating co-operation.
These aspects will help nurture and sustain the difficult process
of negotiation.
3.5.1 Promote confidence building between the parties
Negotiators need to have some confidence in each other and
in the process. This does not rule out skepticism on both counts,
but there must be a degree of mutual trust that permits a basic
working relationship, and there must be at least a minimal ex-
pectation that a quality outcome can result from the process.
The following are some basic rules of the negotiation game:
Ensure confidentiality. A standard ground-rule for negotia-
tion is that what is said is not repeated outside the negotiating
room without permission. Each side needs that reassurance in
order to discuss serious and sensitive issues with confidence.
This should be agreed beforehand and reassurance on this sub-
ject must come at repeated intervals from all sides, and be de-
monstrated by subsequent behaviour. Confidentiality is a keystone
of negotiation.
Demonstrate competence and commitment. Mutual respect
grows from an awareness of the opponent’s ability to do the ne-
gotiation job and their willingness to stick with the process until
the job is done. Competence and commitment in the negotia-
tion process leads to confidence in the outcome. A party needs
to demonstrate these qualities, early and repeatedly, in their
behaviour, just as it needs to look for it in the other parties.
Empathize. Relating in a human way to old enemies is supre-
mely difficult. There is no simple way to wipe out the history of
previous warfare and the deeds it entails. But if one sees only
demons across the table, agreement will never be reached with
them. Although the effort required is often immense, it is im-
portant to view the opposing parties as human beings, to try at
least to understand that they too have pain and anger stored up
from the past, and to realize that they too must make the effort
to overcome the same preconceptions of other parties.
Retain belief in a solution. If the frustrations of the process
grow too great, consider the alternatives to negotiation. They
will almost certainly be much worse than unpleasant and inces-
sant talking. Remember the reasons that brought one’s party to
the table, and the unpleasant consequences of a hasty depar-
ture. Expect bumps in the road, but maintain a commitment to
keep travelling.
94

Negotiation
3.5.2 Promote clarity

Accurate information, even unpleasant information, is vital.
Without full information no comprehensive and lasting decision
can be reached on any point. And without lasting decisions, no
solution will be achieved.
Question the other parties. To avoid the appearance of inter-
rogation, use open questions where possible. Closed questions
invite simple, yes-or-no answers: for example, “Do you want a
new constitution?” is unlikely to elicit much useful discussion. In
contrast, open questions demand complex answers, and draw
forth richer information: for example, “What sort of constitu-
tion do you envisage?” Open questions often begin with “why?”,
“how?”, “what if?”, and so on.
Paraphrase, clarify and summarize. After an open question is
answered, play back a summary or a paraphrase to the respon-
der, and check for accuracy. Paraphrases begin with, “So what
you’re saying is...”, or “Am I right to summarize your point
as...?”, and so on. Ask further questions for clarification. Con-
tinue the process until the responder is satisfied. This not only
elicits accurate information, it reassures the responder that their
argument has been heard and understood – exactly the situa-
tion that has been missing during the rhetoric of conflict.
Maintain focus on the issues. For the conflicting parties, the
bedrock issues are deeply significant beyond their objective con-
tent. Each side will have years of pain and anger interwoven
around the issues. Those emotions need to be expressed and un-
derstood. But for clarification purposes, cool question-and-answer
sessions that remain focused on the substance of the issues help
to extract vital information without raising the emotional tem-
perature.
Defuse anger. Anger will appear in the negotiation process. It
is only natural that it should, given the importance of the issues
at stake. Simple de-escalating manoeuvres can defuse the anger
without detracting from the significance of the issues: taking a
short break to let tempers cool; mutually acknowledging the
emotions on both sides; recognizing deep-seated fear, pain and
anger in all the communities involved as a mutual problem for
the negotiation process, and so on.
3.5.3 Promote understanding
Without full understanding, the process is doomed to failure.
All issues must be understood fully by all in order to begin the
95
Negotiation
problem-solving phase of building a solution. Most of this will

come from the parties themselves. Additional information can
be gathered from outside. Suggested techniques include the fol-
lowing:
Differentiate perceptions from issues. Naturally, many of the
issues at stake in the conflict have deep emotional or psycholog-
ical reverberations for the parties involved. These should not be
excluded or de-emphasized. But it is vital that, first, all objective
issues of substance in the conflict are laid out for all to see and
understand; second, that perceptions – feelings, memories of
hurt and sacrifice, mutual views of each other – are also expres-
sed and heard; and, third, that the difference between the two is
made abundantly clear. It may be useful to distinguish between
these in terms of objective issues (resource discrimination, terri-
torial disputes, and so on) and relationship issues (perceptions,
beliefs and images held by one side of and about another). Buil-
ding a settlement in the negotiation process will concentrate on
the former; but attention to the latter will need to be addressed
at some stage and in some way, and the parties need to under-
stand this. As the working relationship develops in a good pro-
cess, these issues may indirectly be defused to some degree. A
good mediator will be able to judge the appropriate moment
when it may be either necessary or desirable for one or both par-
ties to blow off steam, or “let a little blood” as it is sometimes
known.
Identify needs and interests. Deep-seated needs underpin the
expressed issues and demands in identity-related conflict. Listen
carefully to the other parties talk and try to dig below and iden-
tify these needs. A demand for self-determination may reflect a
deep-seated insecurity about a community’s future. A demand
for political control may reflect an underlying need for recogni-
tion of identity through political participation. Political interests
and issues are the stuff of political negotiation and settlement;
but attention to and recognition of underlying needs can bring
the parties to a fundamentally deeper understanding of their
positions and their conflict. Additionally, often the underlying
needs of all sides to the conflict, once reframed in terms of secu-
rity or expression of identity, may be similar. This new perspec-
tive can provide important new information to parties, assisting
the search for common ground and the drawing of parties into
co-operative processes. By way of illustration, there is a tend-
ency on the part of external actors, and, particularly the interna-
96

Negotiation
tional community, when an identity-based conflict arises to im-

mediately jump to the conclusion that some kind of territorial
autonomy may be the solution. This is sometimes a dramatic res-
ponse to an issue which may have as its real cause a resource or
security issue, and which could be addressed by mechanisms
which do not necessarily go to the heart of the state and its terri-
torial integrity.
Take expert advice. Look outside the negotiating process for
information, if necessary. This may be especially relevant to in-
formation about possible future scenarios or structures that are
being debated at the table. This does not refer to information as
ammunition to use against opponents, but rather information
that can be shared and will enlighten discussions. By agreement
with other parties, commission outside studies or reports for the
negotiation process. Fact-finding projects can produce cool and
impartial reports on subjects of contention within the talks. Ex-
pert working groups can take a contentious issue from the talks
agenda, and produce clear proposals and possibilities for solu-
tion on the issue.
3.5.4 Promote movement
Eventually, when information gathering is over, when basic
respect has been developed, and when positions have been made
abundantly clear, the problem-solving phase begins. Some small
techniques can simplify the daunting task in this difficult phase.
Fractionate. Often a major obstacle to movement is a sense of
the overwhelming complexity of the agenda. Fractionating
means to break down the elements of the agenda into smaller,
more addressable issues. These can then be tackled in sequence
across the table, or mandated to issue-oriented subcommittees
for discussion and proposals, or delegated to outside working
groups for attention and reports.
Prioritize issues. Another means to clarify a complex agenda
is to order the items according to priority. They can then be ad-
dressed in order of importance, or in reverse order of difficulty,
as the parties agree.
Separate proposals from authors. It is a characteristic of com-
petitive negotiation that one side’s proposal for solution can be
unacceptable to another side simply because of its origin. It may
be eminently sensible in its content, but impossible to accept,
because to do so would feel like conceding or losing a point. Try
to assess an opposition proposal on its merits, not its origin.
97
Negotiation
Box 5 NEGOTIATING TECHNIQUES: SOME BASIC

PRINCIPLES
1. Promote confidence building between the parties – There must
be a degree of mutual trust which permits a basic working
relationship. This can be fostered by:
– ensuring confidentiality;
– demonstrating competence and commitment;
– empathizing; and
– retaining belief in a solution.
2. Promote clarity – Without full and accurate information, no
comprehensive and lasting decision can be reached. Elicit useful
and clear discussions by:
– Asking open questions (i.e., “What sort of constitution do you
envisage?”), rather than closed or interrogative questions
( i.e., “Do you want a new constitution?”);
– Paraphrasing or summarizing the responder’s answers to ensure
accuracy, and asking further questions for clarification;
– Maintaining focus on the substance of the issues;
– Defusing anger, by taking short breaks and mutually
acknowledging emotions on both sides.
3. Promote understanding – All issues must be understood fully in
order to begin the problem-solving phase of building a solution.
This can be furthered by:
– Differentiating perceptions from issues. First, all objective issues of
substance must be spelled out and understood; second,
perceptions, fears, mutual views of each other must be
expressed and heard;
– Identifying needs and interests. Focus on and recognize the
underlying needs of all sides;
– Taking expert advice. Outside information can be
commissioned to enlighten discussions, through fact-finding
projects or expert working groups.
4. Promote movement – Once information is gathered, respect has
been developed, positions have been made clear – then problem
solving can begin. This difficult phase can be facilitated by:
– Fractionating, or breaking down the elements into smaller,
more addressable issues;
– Prioritizing issues either in order of importance or in reverse
order of difficulty;
– Building on other parties’ proposals;
– Identifying common ground, even small areas of commonality,
which can serve to encourage all participants and generate
momentum;
– Brokering concessions, particularly if views on all sides have
hardened into set positions on a question.
98
3.6 Tools to Break Deadlock
A further mechanism to be considered is for a mediator or inde-

pendent third party to listen to the parties and then prepare a
draft for discussion, so that it is not perceived as coming from
one particular party.
Build on other parties’ proposals. If an opposing party offers
a proposal with at least some merit, they are likely to agree more
easily to another proposal that both builds on and acknowledges
their input.
Identify common ground. While on occasion it may feel like
the negotiation process is merely underlining the differences
between opposing sides, it is still valuable to cast the net widely
and search for even small areas of common ground. A pre-agreed
agenda, or a joint definition of the problem, are examples of
such common ground, and proof that commonality can and has
already been built among former enemies. Identifying even
small areas of common ground during negotiations can be sur-
prising and encouraging to all participants, helping to generate
momentum towards co-operation and further commonality.
Broker concessions. Particularly if views on all sides have har-
dened into set positions on a question, unofficial channels may
be the appropriate place to take on a brokering role. Try to look
for compensations, quid pro quos, tit-for-tats. Deal making and
compromise is the life-blood of negotiation.

With or without third parties, whether motivation is low or A number of tools can
high, negotiations can hit moments of deadlock. In general, if
help break deadlock,
the process design has incorporated sufficient flexibility, dead-
lock is easier to address. But additionally, there are tried and including coalition
tested techniques which may be useful for overcoming such sit- building, unofficial
uations.
channels and shuttle
3.6.1 Coalition building
mediation.
The idea of building a coalition of commitment between all
those who value negotiations was mentioned before in Section
3.4.1. Such a coalition should cross all boundaries: intra-party as
well as inter-party. It will also benefit if it includes sections of the
negotiators’ wider constituencies: public opinion in favour of a
negotiated settlement can be a powerful source of pressure, es-
pecially on politicians who need to court that public. Those who
believe in the value of continued negotiation will be less strict
about concessions than other less committed members. A strong
pro-negotiation coalition can increase pressure on those causing
99
3.6 Tools to Break
Deadlock
deadlock by the implicit threat that they will take the blame if
talks stall or collapse. More positively, members of a cross-party
coalition can co-operate in pressing their respective backers to
do what is necessary to facilitate a solution to the problem.
3.6.2 Unofficial channels
Also mentioned earlier, in Section 3.4.6, was the need for
unofficial channels of communication. These channels supple-
ment and can at times circumvent the more official channels
across the table or through a secretariat. They can take any ap-
propriate form, but the more they exist the easier it is to con-
tinue discussion of a problem that, in the official setting, cannot
be openly negotiated. At Camp David, the “walk in the woods”
served this valuable purpose for a variety of permutations of par-
ticipants. (The term was quite literal: the venue was surrounded
by forest, which provided the ideal place to take a break.) In
Northern Ireland, the indoor version of the same thing was
termed “voices in the corridors”. In South Africa, the unofficial
friendship that resulted in the “Roelf and Cyril show” permitted
the development of what was somewhat prosaically termed “the
channel”: a parallel conduit for communication to supplement
the official process. In Finland, the sauna became the channel.
In Norway, it was a fireside chat.
These kinds of channels evolve organically through the pre-
negotiation and negotiation processes, and cannot in any real
sense be predicted or prescribed. But it is vital that participants
both recognize the importance of such mechanisms to lubricate
the formal talks process, and remain aware of their possibilities
as the opportunities occur. These channels may need to be de-
niable, and therefore may not involve party leaders or those with
a high profile, unless a particular personal chemistry permits it.
More often, they are quiet, behind-the-scenes chats between sec-
ond-tier delegates, for the purpose of explaining in fuller terms
the positions, problems, restraints and perceived obstacles bet-
ween rival parties.
3.6.3 Subgroups
The idea of subgroups or subcommittees has been mentioned
at various times as a means to fractionate or subdivide the agen-
da into more manageable ingredients. More specifically, when a
particular obstacle creates deadlock over a certain agenda item,
an ad hoc subgroup may be usefully convened to address the
point. Away from the formal table, the smaller group can discuss
100
the problem in more forthright terms, and speculate more

freely about ways to overcome it. The members will of course re-
port back to their respective delegations, but the subgroup’s
lack of formal minutes, the reduction in rhetoric, the removal of
the need to protect public positions and the specificity of the
one-item agenda can facilitate speedy, honest and co-operative
deal making. In the words of one Northern Irish negotiator:
“
When you get three or four people sitting down with one
chairperson, you can get stuck in to the business. Because you
have an opportunity to say, ‘Look, stop ––ing around here,
what is the problem with x?’ And the other guy says, ‘Well,
101 what we’re really bothered about is a, b and c.’ And then you
start addressing the issues. When you’re sitting with 40 people
in a room, it’s much harder to say that.
3.6.4 Shuttle mediation

When the formal plenary session of talks runs into problems
over a particularly divisive issue, it may be best to leave the for-
mal setting and enter into shuttle mediation: discussions held
between the chair or mediator and one party at a time. This
allows for a process of clarifying a given party’s stance on the
subject, communicating accurately other parties’ positions
(gained through other shuttle discussions) and defining each
party’s needs, expectations and possibilities around the dead-
locking issue. The chair or mediator, by this means, may well be
able to draw a clearer picture of the situation than can be done
in plenary, and can then communicate this picture in further
bilaterals, along with possibilities for movement.
3.6.5 Proximity talks
A similar procedure to shuttle mediation is proximity talks.
The difference here is that the parties actually move to the same
specific location for the purposes of the talks, rather than
remain in their own geographical bases to be visited by a medi-
ator. Here, the party delegations reside close by each other, pos-
sibly in different rooms of the same building, but communicate
entirely through bilateral discussion with the chair. This can be
particularly useful as a prelude to face-to-face negotiation or for
101
3.6 Tools to Break
Deadlock
pre-negotiation. The nearness and accessibility of the parties

makes it feasible, without the need for actual meeting (which
may be publicly unacceptable at this stage). But it can also be a
means to relax the pressure when deadlock is blocking plenary
discussion. Proximity keeps the focus on the subject matter, in a
way that would be lost if the parties actually left the negotiation
venue.
3.6.6 Referendums, consultations and mandates
On a rather larger scale, but nonetheless pertinent in the
right situation, parties may want to seek wider endorsement of a
proposed move. Particularly if progress in negotiation has been
substantial up to this point, the deadlock may be caused by a
fear of the reception which a particular concession or agree-
ment might receive in the broader constituency which negotia-
tors represent. Fearing to go too far without the express support
of their constituency, a delegation may need to seek approval
from a wider membership of their party or movement, or indeed
from their supporters or their public at large. While this can be
time-consuming and complicated, it may be worthwhile to pro-
duce an energizing endorsement for change and progress which
can move the negotiations on to the fast track. An example is the
1992 whites-only referendum called by South African President
F. W. de Klerk to renew his mandate for negotiating with anti-
apartheid organizations. The referendum result, a decisive vote
in favour of continued reform, provided an important boost to
de Klerk and served to renew confidence in the reform movement.
Such referendums, of course, must be approached with great
care. Despite the best-laid plans, referendums always carry the
risk of rejection: the calculation must be made carefully, since a
negative response will hugely hamper, or altogether destroy, the
negotiation process.
3.6.7 Unofficial supplements to negotiation
Well beyond the negotiation process, including any unofficial
or ad hoc channels, there usually exists a broader population
which comprises the civil society of the country in conflict. These
people are normally not part of the negotiation process, and yet
they are part of the conflict and part of its potential solution.
Among that population will be organizations, groups and indi-
viduals who have their own processes and communication chan-
nels – and their own expertise – of which negotiators can avail
themselwes. Such elements include religious institutions and
102
leaders, business interests, academic institutions, labour inter-

ests, peace groups, cross-community co-operative ventures, and
so on. When deadlock ties the negotiations down, these ele-
ments remain available. They can function as supports for, or
alternatives to, the talks process itself.
Box 6
BREAKING DEADLOCK
The following are some tried and tested techniques which
may be useful in breaking deadlock:
1. Coalition building – Build a strong coalition of
commitment between all those who value negotiations.
2. Unofficial channels – unofficial channels, such as the
“walk in the woods” at Camp David, can supplement
and at times circumvent the more official channels. The
more they exist the easier it is to continue discussion of
a problem that, in the official setting, cannot be openly
negotiated.
3. Subgroups – When a particular obstacle creates
deadlock over a certain agenda item, subgroups or
subcommittees can discuss the problem in more
forthright terms, away from the formal table.
4. Shuttle mediation – Discussions between the chair or
mediator and one party at a time, which allows for a
process of clarifying a given party’s stance on the
subject, communicating accurately other parties’
positions, and defining each party’s needs and
expectations around the deadlocking issue.
5. Proximity talks – Party delegations reside close by each
other, possibly in different rooms of the same building,
but communicate entirely through bilateral discussion
with the chair.
6. Referendums, consultations and mandates – Parties
may want to seek wider endorsement of a proposed
move, for example through referendums, before going
too far without the express support of their
constituency.
7. Unofficial supplements to negotiation – The broader
civil society in a country, including religious institutions
and leaders, business interests, labour interests and
peace groups, can function as supports for, or
alternatives to, the talks process itself.
103
3.7 Third-Party
Assistance
There may be good reason to utilize the services of an acade-

mic institution to facilitate, say, a problem-solving workshop on
the point in question, where a small group of representatives
can meet to discuss the subject matter in neutral surroundings
and try to use co-operative analysis to produce new alternatives
to deadlock. Religious leaders or groups may be able to venture
across boundaries where official negotiators cannot to keep
communication alive. Business interests may have very practical
and well-established bases of communication and co-operation
which can be called upon to assist in breaking the deadlock.
Again, the possibilities for the use of such unofficial entities
depends on what is available in the given situation. But parties
need to be aware of these possibilities, alive to the opportunities
to use them, and in general on the lookout for any available ad-
ditional means to supplement the more official processes at the
negotiating venue.
3.7 Third-Party Assistance

3.7.1 Introduction
Third-party intervention is increasingly popular in negotia-
tion, either as a central feature of a talks process or as an ad hoc
deadlock-breaking tool. Because of its wide potential applicabil-
ity, it deserves attention as a mechanism in its own right.
A third party – a person, group, institution or country that is
not identified directly or indirectly with any of the parties or
interests to the conflict – can be very effective in chairing or fa-
cilitating the talks process. And a long-standing conflict, espe-
cially where there is considerable stalemate or just staleness of
view, can benefit from the fresh perspective of newcomers. The
first two important questions are: Do we need a third party? And,
if so, who?
The South African peace process reached settlement without
formal intervention by any third parties in the negotiation pro-
cess itself, although third-party intervention did take place in
relation to the participation of Inkatha in the election in 1994.
A high-profile intervention by two former foreign policy heavy-
weights, Lord Peter Carrington of the UK and Henry Kissinger
of the US, produced little result, while a lower high profile inter-
vention by a Kenyan, Mr Okumu, was very successful. There is an
increasing trend, voluntary or otherwise, to utilize intervenors or
mediators from outside the conflict. Part of this trend must be
attributed to a growing keenness in the international communi-
104
ty to play such roles, and the new context in which they have
found themselves since the end of the Cold War. Moreover,
intervenors increasingly operate in coalitions (for example, the
collaboration of the Contact Group of States, the Organization
for Security and Co-operation in Europe, the United Nations
High Representative, the United States, the European Union
and various NGOs in Bosnia).
Even if a third party is not used during negotiations, there
may be a limited but effective role for such a person or group in
enabling low-key discussion of a problem or sticking point. An
independent mediator may well be ideal for this. The mediator
will simply facilitate focused discussion of the deadlocked point,
in order to increase communication and understanding and to
generate possibilities for agreement. Again, small delegation sizes
will help. Even where a third party mediates the formal talks, a
small-scale subgroup discussion with a different mediator (or a
secondary member of the official mediation team) can be use-
ful.
Another way to use intervention is to seek arbitration on the First and foremost,
sticking point, either by the existing mediator or, more effectively, third parties must be
by an outside person or group particularly relevant to the point
generally acceptable to
in question. While arbitration can often be criticized for the
impositional nature of its solutions, if deadlock is genuinely pro- all sides.
duced by a mutual despair, it may be seen as both necessary and
acceptable by the parties as an alternative to a breakdown in the
entire process.
In general, mediation is as much a tool as any other in nego-
tiations. If it is inappropriate for the process as a whole, ad hoc
mediation in a variety of forms can be brought in for particular
problems. The problem itself will, as always, define the charac-
teristics of the most suitable mediator or arbitrator.
First and foremost, third parties must be generally acceptable
to all sides. Usually, this is voiced in terms of the third party’s
neutrality or impartiality. But no third party is truly impartial or
neutral, since they will carry with them an agenda of their own –
whether this is an external state with regional interests in the
conflict, or simply an individual who may want to take credit for
a successful outcome.
As important as impartiality or neutrality is the acceptability of
the person or agency. Third parties can even come from within
the conflict, even from one side of it – for example, religious fig-
ures or business or civil leaders – as long as there is sufficient
105
3.7 Third-Party
Assistance
respect for them from all sides and for their capacity to act in a
neutral manner. Perhaps the easiest way to summarize this qual-
ity of acceptability is to talk in terms of building the same kind
of trust which, we argued earlier, must be developed between
conflicting parties in order to develop a satisfactory working re-
lationship. The intervenor needs the working trust of all parties
in order to function.
3.7.2 Types of intervention
Third-party intervention is a wide-ranging concept. We will
borrow the work of leading scholars to get a more focused pic-
ture of what it can entail, while always remembering that such a
neat analysis is a simplification of the real world. The terms used
in the following discussion are somewhat arbitrary; we use them
here to clarify distinctions between types of intervention, rather
than as recognized definitions.
Essentially, we identify five different, if overlapping, interven-
tion roles, each appropriate at different stages and phases, or for
different elements, of the process. Each can be played by sepa-
rate parties or, more likely, an intervenor will find themselves
moving between, or combining, several roles.
Conciliation
A conciliator provides a communication channel between the
parties. The main aims of conciliation are to help identify the
major issues of contention, to lower tensions between parties,
and to move the parties closer to direct interaction (i.e., negoti-
ation) over the identified issues. In our framework, conciliation
is particularly beneficial at the pre-negotiation stage, where it has
the effect of clarifying the agenda for subsequent discussion, en-
couraging the building of a “common mental map”; reducing
tensions and facilitating greater understanding of each other’s
aims and goals; and building the initial stages of a bridge bet-
ween adversaries that will lead to more co-operative approaches.
There is no requirement that the protagonists actually meet to-
gether during conciliation.
The work of the Quaker Adam Curle in the Nigerian conflict
of 1967–1970 is an instance of conciliation. Although Curle and
his colleagues never brought the Nigerian Government or the
Biafran rebels together, they shuttled between the two sides with
messages, engaging in bilateral discussions with each side in or-
der to help them get a clearer picture of their position, their
106
view of the issues and their ideas for solution, floating possibili-
ties for progress to each side, and so on.
Facilitation
A facilitator addresses the relationship and issues between
conflicting parties. The facilitator brings representatives of the
parties together, usually in a neutral environment. The facilitator
chairs joint or separate meetings in order to examine mutual
perceptions, and encourages communication in a safe and non-
threatening way and joint analysis of the problem. Each party is
encouraged to express its perceptions of the other, as well as its
notion of the other’s perception of it. The facilitator assists the
setting of ground-rules and manages the process of the discus-
ions; the participants retain control of the content. This can take
place when the parties are not able to agree on a chair for the
meetings or the process. With mutual understanding thus
increased, the parties move on to joint discussion of their situa-
tion and their problem, and eventually to joint co-operative
analysis and problem-solving. Facilitation assumes that improved
mutual knowledge, improved understanding and trust, and
strengthened communication channels will assist in clearing the
way for the parties to engage in direct substantive negotiation
over the issues that divide them.
The Norwegian back-channel arguably functioned as facilita-
tion – confidential, unofficial discussion and relationship-build-
ing in a neutral venue, with no expectation that agreement had
to be reached. The problem-solving workshops facilitated by
Herb Kelman, a US academic, between Israeli and Palestinian
groups over a twenty-year period are excellent examples. Kel-
man identifies individuals with influence within their communities
– policy advisers, second-tier politicians, academics, opinion-
formers, and so on. He hosts three- to five-day joint meetings with
them on neutral ground. Importantly, they come as individuals,
whatever their official status at home. Led by a team of facilita-
tors, they work through the agenda of swapping understandings
of the conflict and of each other, of identifying and discussing
obstacles to progress and then jointly brainstorming possible
solutions to those obstacles. The confidentiality of the meetings,
and the control of process retained by the facilitators, make the
meetings non-threatening. They contribute to issue clarification
as well as relationship building. The individuals take the results
of the workshop – increased understanding and respect, clari-
107
3.7 Third-Party
Assistance
fied issues, scenarios for progress – back with them to feed into
their official apparatus.
Arbitration
A third party that functions as an arbitrator brings authority
and legitimacy to the proceedings which permit the arbitrator to
impose a solution equally on all the conflicting parties. The arbi-
trator listens to all sides of the argument, considers the merits of
the respective cases, and then constructs a settlement in a fair
and just way. The key distinctions of arbitration are two-fold.
First, the solution comes from the third party, not the conflict-
ing parties. They do not necessarily engage in discussions to con-
struct that solution, beyond advocating their own point of view
to the arbitrator. Second, the authority of the arbitrator is such
that the conflicting parties are bound to the ruling its solution
as binding. They may well be faced with rewards for compliance
and punishments for non-compliance.
Arbitration rarely, if ever, serves as the sole approach to
managing deep-rooted conflict: because of the depth of feeling
involved in such conflict, solutions which are not “owned” by the
disputants are usually inappropriate. The legal nature of arbi-
tration can, however, be useful in contributing to a settlement.
Regional and international intergovernmental organizations,
(such as the United Nations, Organization of American States,
and so forth) and regional and international courts (such as the
European Court of Justice, the International Court of Justice,
etc.) can sometimes play an arbiter’s role on more straightforward
aspects of the conflict.
One recent example of the use of arbitration in a deep-rooted
conflict situation was the appointment of an Arbitral Tribunal
for Brœko, a war-ravaged multi-ethnic municipality in the north-
east of Bosnia. When the Dayton peace agreement was signed,
the issue of Brœko’s status was considered too contentious to be
settled, and was left to later arbitration. Although the Brcko
Arbitral Tribunal was not without its problems, its establishment
did have the useful effect of defusing the issue and removing a
potential stumbling block from the original Dayton agreement,
to be dealt with at a later time.
Pure mediation
A pure mediator’s role is to facilitate direct negotiation on
the substantive issues, with the aim of producing a lasting settle-
108
ment. The use of the word “pure” implies no judgement as to its

quality or morality. Put simply, the pure mediator has no power
outside the negotiation situation, and any power within the ne-
gotiations rests at all times on the continued permission of the
conflicting parties. Pure mediation involves the use of process
skills, techniques and experience to urge the parties on, or ease
their path, towards a solution which they themselves design, re-
fine and ultimately implement. The conflicting parties at all times
hold the initiative. The mediator merely uses reasoning, unforced
persuasion, the control of information and the generation of
alternatives to encourage them to reach agreement.
Additionally, the mediator can play a vital role in outlining
the consequences of proposals and options: by putting him or
herself in the shoes of the other side, a mediator can effectively
“reality-test” a party’s proposal in advance. Throughout the pro-
cess, the pure mediator’s role is a major one, but their status is
minor in comparison to the conflicting parties. The pure medi-
ator controls process but, beyond suggesting options and
scenarios, has little or no direct input into the substance of the
outcome. Jimmy Carter’s interventions in the Eritrean conflict,
the Catholic church’s facilitation of talks on Angola, and many
other behind-the-scenes dialogue processes are examples of
pure mediation.
Power mediation
This builds on pure mediation, but with one huge difference:
the mediator has power, drawn from its position outside the
negotiation situation, to persuade the parties to obey. The power
mediator shares all the aims of the pure mediator, but the
means are different: the power mediator has leverage over the
conflicting parties. It uses incentives and punishments – carrots
and sticks – to persuade the parties to yield inflexible positions
and to embrace compromise. But such movement is based on
the power relations between the mediator and each party, rather
than on the inter-party relationship. The power mediator takes
the initiative in the process, rather than leaving it with the con-
flicting parties. The mediator’s status at all times constrains the
activities of the conflicting parties; they need to consider care-
fully their relationship with the mediator, and the consequences
of endangering that relationship. The power mediator has its
own agenda, and frequently its own preferred outcome. And it
has a degree of influence over the parties to move them towards
109
3.7 Third-Party
Assistance
that outcome. Furthermore, unlike all the other intervenor roles

except the arbitrator, the power mediator has the leverage to
provide subsequent incentives (or punishments) to guarantee
the agreed outcome and to ensure continued compliance.
Many examples exist. Indeed, most instances of hosted nego-
tiations in the international arena tend to involve predominantly
power mediation: President Carter at Camp David, US diplo-
mats such as Richard Holbrooke at Dayton, joint US-Soviet influ-
ence at Bicesse, the UN Special Representative in the Iran-Iraq
War, and so on. In reality, pure and power mediation are often
not quite as distinct as our definitions here might suggest.
3.7.3 Official and unofficial intervention
The preceding five-part terminology, in which mediation rep-
resents only two types of intervention among five, is presented
here in order to highlight the various approaches to third-party
intervention. Another, simpler, way to distinguish between types
of third-party roles is to group them under official and unofficial
headings. Once again, such terms are offered only for the spe-
cific purpose of maintaining clarity in this discussion. Official
intervention is also termed “track one” diplomacy (that is, part
of the official international diplomatic discourse), in contrast to
“track two” diplomacy, which is more of an unofficial or informal
complement to the formal diplomatic process. Thus, formal ne-
gotiations convened between disputants by, say, a head of gov-
ernment are an instance of official intervention; informal dia-
logue between them assisted by, for example, a Quaker group,
would constitute more unofficial intervention, which might sup-
plement or lead to more formal dialogue.
Clearly facilitation, conciliation and, in particular, pure medi-
ation have in common one central factor: the intervenor brings
no real power or influence to bear on the proceedings, beyond
that which is voluntarily given to them by the conflicting parties.
In that sense, the mediator has no “official” status or power out-
side the negotiations.
By contrast, arbitration and power mediation base their auth-
ority on the “official” status and power levels which the inter-
venor wields in the outside world: as a judge, a regional leader
or the head of an influential state, for example. To oversimplify
for a moment, an unofficial intervenor might arrive and say,
“I’m Bill, and I’m here to help”. An official intervenor might say,
110
“I’m President Bill Clinton, and I’m here to help”. Immediately,

the latter brings with him all manner of influence and leverage
over the conflicting parties that the former will not have. This is
not to say, however, that the unofficial intervenor cannot have
an influential effect on negotiations. Precisely the fact that they
are unempowered from outside can give unofficial intervenors
more ready access to the process – more acceptability to all sides
– as well as free them to make suggestions without being suspec-
ted of ulterior motives or agendas. The point of being an official
intervenor is to bring outside influence and legitimacy to bear
on the negotiation. The point of being an unofficial intervenor
is to operate free from such influence.
Both official and unofficial intervention – power and pure
mediation – are valuable. Where all parties are anxious to reach
agreement, unofficial intervention by a pure mediator might be
best suited. Where there is reluctance to enter negotiations, or
to offer substantive compromise towards an outcome, interven-
tion by a power mediator may supply the muscle to overcome
such obstacles. In the negotiation process, it is very important
that the mediator’s role is recognized and its terms of reference
are accepted and agreed at an early stage, even if that includes
an acceptance that different status and different terms may be
needed at different stages. Naturally, the terms of reference of
the mediator are set by the parties.
There is no set protocol for the way in which mediators go
about their work, but in general terms they will clarify the issues
that divide parties, determine the degree of flexibility which par-
ties have on those issues and the importance which parties at-
tach to them, identify interests that lie behind parties’ stated
positions, generate options and assist parties to formulate proposals,
suggest trade-offs, communicate messages, reduce tensions, and
encourage a rational appreciation of proposals that may be
forthcoming. They will encourage concentration on the issues
and constructive engagement between the parties. They may
develop their own proposals for consideration by the parties
which the parties do not own and therefore do not need to
defend. They will reality-test parties’ perceptions, positions and
proposals, to develop a realistic appreciation of whether these
things are tenable. Good mediators will have sophisticated prob-
lem-solving skills which enable them to help parties to deter-
mine key problems, diagnose them, develop a range of approa-
111
3.7 Third-Party
Assistance
Box 7
FORMS OF THIRD-PARTY INTERVENTION
The following are five different, if overlapping, intervention

roles, each appropriate at different stages of the negotiating
process. The terms used are to clarify distinctions between
types of intervention, rather than as recognized definitions.
“Track One” Diplomacy (official intervention): intervenor holds
“official” status and power internationally.
1. Arbitration – The arbitrator listens to all sides of the argument,
considers the merits of the respective cases, and then
constructs a settlement in a fair and just way. In an arbitration,
the solution comes from the third party, not the conflicting
parties; and the authority of the arbitrator is such that the
conflicting parties are bound to accept its solution as binding.
For example: the Brœko Arbitral Tribunal in Bosnia.
2. Power mediation – In this case the mediator has power to
persuade the parties to obey. It uses incentives and
punishments to persuade the parties to yield inflexible
positions and to compromise.
For example: President Jimmy Carter at Camp David and US
negotiators at Dayton.
“Track Two” Diplomacy (unofficial intervention): intervenor
brings no real power or influence to bear on proceedings.
3. Conciliation – The conciliator provides a communication
channel between the two parties. He or she helps to identify
the major issues of contention, to lower tensions between
parties, and to move the parties closer to direct interaction.
There is no requirement that the protagonists actually meet
together during conciliation.
For example: the work of Quaker Adam Curle in the Nigerian conflict
of 1967–1970.
4. Facilitation – The facilitator brings representatives of the
parties together. He or she chairs joint or separate meetings in
order to examine mutual perceptions and encourages
communication in a safe and non-threatening way.
For example: the problem-solving workshops facilitated by Herb
Kelman, a US academic, between Israeli and Palestinian groups over a
twenty-year period.
5. Pure mediation – A pure mediator’s role is to facilitate or
direct negotiation on the substantive issues, with the aim of
producing lasting settlement. The pure mediator uses process
skills and experience to urge the parties on towards a solution
that they themselves design, refine and implement.
For example: the Catholic church’s facilitation of talks on Angola.
112
3 . 8 C o n c l u s i o n
ches to address them, and then settle on a way forward. Problem

solving is the core skill of the mediator. Finally, they will assist
the parties in recording outcomes in language which permits no
ambiguity or consequent conflict of interpretation.
Mediation may add value in a number of respects to negotia-
tion. By managing the manner of engagement between the par-
ties, it can significantly enhance the quality of the engagement.
Mediators will work with parties, in joint session or separately,
and may bring chief negotiators together in one-on-one meet-
ings. The simple test will always be what process design is most
likely to enhance the prospects of progress.
3.8 Conclusion
This single chapter perhaps belies the amount of work requi- A wealth of detail
red in process design. A wealth of detail needs to be addressed needs to be addressed
in order to get the optimum design for the circumstances. in order to get the
Nevertheless, the effort is vital. Without a properly designed and
maintained process vehicle, the negotiations will never complete
optimum design for
the journey towards a sustainable outcome. However, with suffi- the circumstances.
cient work completed in analysing the conflict, and then in de- Nevertheless, the effort
signing the process, we can finally move on to consider the ques- is vital.
tion of designing an outcome. The contents of this outcome –
the institutions and mechanisms which can be put in place to
promote a sustainable democratic settlement – will be examined
in the following chapter.
113
DEVELOPING A NEGOTIATION PROCESS
Below we outline the major elements that need to be

pre-negotiated and present a menu of options for each.
1. PARTICIPANTS
■ Open channels of communication, however small or informal, in an

attempt to start the contact and communication;
■ Include all parties with a serious claim to be involved;
■ Build a sufficient mainstream-based pro-negotiation coalition to open
talks with some substantial hope of achieving an outcome, and hope
to co-opt abstainers, or persuade excluded parties to adapt their
behaviour to fit the rules of entry;
■ Open negotiations with a less than comprehensive range of parties,
with the aim of achieving a settlement that excluded parties can be
persuaded to live with;
■ Allow equal numbers of delegates per party;
■ Allow variable delegation sizes based on electoral strength or status
(where elections have been held);
■ Set an electoral or other threshold to restrict or enable participation;
■ Limit participation only to those parties who enjoy substantial
support;
■ Allow for different degrees of status in the process (e.g., participant
and observer) for different parties;
■ Distinguish groupings within the negotiation process who may be
opposed on some, possibly major, issues but share positions on others.
2. PRECONDITIONS AND BARRIERS

TO NEGOTIATION
■ Drop preconditions to negotiations, and accept all comers;

■ Use the pre-negotiation process to work through preconditions and
questions of legitimacy and recognition of spokespersons;
A MENU OF OPTIONS 1 [P. 114]

■ Open out preconditions initially aimed at one party into a principled
statement to which all parties can and must agree;
■ Address preconditions and the commitment to the negotiation
process in an unofficial discussion process prior to formal
negotiation.
3. LEVELLING THE PLAYING-FIELD
■ Accept, at least within the negotiation context, the right of all sides to
be present;
■ Agree on procedures permitting the involvement of previously
excluded or restricted persons;
■ Schedule time and resources to permit all parties to come to the table
prepared;
■ Make contact with, and learn from, counterparts from other contexts;
■ Look to an external powerful mediator or chairperson both to bestow
at least temporary legitimacy on all parties equally for the duration of
talks, and to underwrite the equality of all parties at the table.
4. RESOURCING THE NEGOTIATIONS
■ Negotiations which are self-funded by each side;

■ Negotiations in which one party offers to resource most or all of the
negotiations;
■ Negotiations in which contributions from other domestic actors are
sought;
■ Negotiations funded by international bodies.

5. FORM OF NEGOTIATIONS
■ Large-scale conferences;
■ Summits of key spokespersons;
■ Full round table sessions;
■ Shuttle mediation;
■ Bilateral discussions;
■ A mixed formula of plenaries and subgroups;
■ Acknowledgement of dissenting coalitions by means of minority
reports;
■ Defining different roles and capacities for negotiators and observers.
6. VENUE AND LOCATION
■ Identify a neutral venue, of no particular symbolism or support to any

one party;
■ Agree on a domestic venue acceptable to all parties;
■ Assure equal accessibility to the venue for all parties;
■ Supplement official or formal discussion forums by unofficial, off-the-
record and possibly deniable channels of communication outside and
around the formal table.
7. COMMUNICATION AND
INFORMATION EXCHANGE
■ Secret negotiations out of all sight;

■ Closed negotiation sessions, with occasional or regular progress
reports to the outside world, agreed by all parties;
■ An agreed press embargo among all participants (with enforcement
mechanisms to be negotiated among the parties);

■ Relations with the media being at each party’s discretion;
■ Ceding the public relations role by agreement to the chairperson or
mediator;
■ Establishing a permanent press secretariat to manage media relations
on behalf of all;
■ Establishing a central secretariat to channel information between the
parties;
■ Forming a subcommittee with responsibility for inter-party
communication.
8. SETTING THE SUBSTANTIVE AGENDA
■ Establish pre-negotiation processes, either public or private, and

possibly with a reduced number of delegates, to define the agenda
prior to formal negotiation;
■ Use the formal negotiation process to resolve procedural and agenda
matters;
■ Order agenda items according to contentiousness and importance;
■ Adopt a long-range policy of a series of negotiations, each building on
the achievements of the last.
9. MANAGING THE PROCEEDINGS
■ Negotiation of a system of sharing the chair in such a way that no one

party can benefit from their chairing either in general or on key
specific agenda items;
■ Selection of a party totally suitable to all concerned;
■ Selection of a party minimally acceptable to all concerned;
■ Identification of the key skills necessary for the function;
■ Selection of a party with authority to overrule all concerned if
necessary;
■ Selection of an unempowered party dependent on continuing
consensus among all concerned.

10. TIMEFRAMES
■ No time-limits: participants remain until the job is done;

■ A pre-agreed time-limit;
■ A realistic limit on the goals to be achieved within the time available;
■ Aiming for a comprehensive settlement of all aspects of the dispute;
■ An option for further negotiating period/s following success in the
initial period.
11. DECISION-MAKING PROCEDURES
■ Total agreement: all parties must endorse a point for it to be agreed;

■ Simple majority acceptance: more than half the parties or delegates
agree;
■ Consensus: the point is defined and refined until all can agree to it;
■ Sufficient consensus: a certain specified proportion of the parties or
delegates must agree the point (the exact proportion or criteria to be
pre-agreed, and dependent on the number of parties, their relative
sizes, and their ability to “sell” the agreement to their broader
constituencies);
■ Secret ballots to discover the degree of consensus;
■ An open show of hands to discover the voting preferences;
■ Final ratification by parties, or endorsement by referendum of the
final outcome.


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120
The Changing Nature of
Conflict and Conflict
Management
122
David Bloomfield
Case Study: Northern Ireland
NORTHERN IRELAND
The Plantation
Since English forces first arrived to claim the island of Ireland around 1170–1190
CE, centuries of complex Anglo-Irish history have produced Europe’s longest-stand-
ing identity-related conflict. Space permits no more than a sadly inadequate nod to
that rich narrative.
The indigent population at the time of the English invasion were descendants of
the Celts who had swept westward across Europe in the pre-Christian era. They had
been converted to Christianity during the 5th and 6th centuries. They were rural,
agriculturally based and formed a largely decentralized society. The Protestant
reformation which took deep root in England mostly passed Ireland by, and its pop-
ulation remained almost wholly Catholic.
As a means of later subjugation, the English introduced the Plantation, an early
but obvious form of colonialism. From the early 1600s, hundreds of thousands of
settlers from England and lowland Scotland were offered plots of fertile agricul-
tural land if they agreed to be permanently “planted” in Ireland. In the process,
most native Irish were displaced from their homes into the barren hills.
The Plantation had two key effects. First, the land displacements created a deep
and abiding Irish sense of criminal injustice on the part of the English. Second, the
native population was completely Catholic while the settlers were overwhelmingly
Protestant. In the context of the times, religion was a central defining factor of cul-
ture and politics, and so the two groups, natives and settlers, were instantly alien to
each other. Matters were not helped by the Protestant zeal with which the Planters
set about subduing the angry but powerless Irish. Oliver Cromwell – in the British con-
text, an heroic revolutionary figure in the development of western democracy – slaugh-
tered Irish Catholics by the thousand in a vicious programme of ethnic cleansing.
Ireland
The Plantation flourished best in north-east Ireland. For the next 250 years, the
history of Ireland developed along two main themes. On the one hand, there were
regular but unsuccessful attempts at rebellion by the dispossessed Catholic Irish,
South Africa
during which a cumulative sense of Irish nationalism developed. On the other, the
British-sponsored industrialization and economic development of the north-east
Northern
raced ahead. The region’s central city, Belfast, became two things by Victorian
times: a heavily industrialized port as integral to the British empire as Liverpool or
Southampton (producing ships, textiles, heavy machinery, armaments and, later,
aircraft) and a centre of strongly British-oriented culture dominated largely by
Protestants. This abiding sense of a British identity translated itself politically into
Unionism – support, that is, for the continued Union with Britain.
123
Case Study: Northern
Ireland
While Irish nationalism spread throughout the rest of Ireland, in the industrial
north-east the Unionist focus remained resolutely tied to the British empire as the
predominant source of wealth and international and domestic markets and as the
channel of access to the outside world. While Irish Catholics increasingly mobilized
around the cause of Irish independence, northern Protestants rallied to the cause
of the British empire, busily filling its factories and patriotically fighting its wars.
Religion had long ceased to be the issue of conflict between these two fundamen-
tally opposed cultural communities, but continued to serve as the badge of identity
for both sides.
So by 1900, there existed in Ireland two deeply separated communities, both with
long-standing historical claims to the territory, both divided not only by religious
labels but also in their politics, history, heritage, culture and economy, who saw their
sources of support as different, their relationships to Europe as different, and espe-
cially their relationship with the superpower of the day (Britain) as diametrically
opposed.
Partition
By the turn of the 20th century, Irish pressure for independence became irre-
sistible. Northern Protestant opposition to the idea was equally strong. Both sides
began to arm, each prepared to fight their cause against the British. Heavy-handed
British suppression of an abortive 1916 rising in Dublin, the Irish capital, by rebels
of the Irish Republican Army (IRA) produced the martyrs who inspired a mass lib-
eration movement. In 1920, limited independence was granted to all 32 counties of
Ireland, but the nine counties of the north-east (the province of Ulster) were given
the option to opt out of the arrangement. Six of the nine, the ones with Protestant
majorities, chose to remain with Britain in the UK, and the island was partitioned in
1921 between the 26 counties of the Irish Free State to the south, and the six coun-
ties of Northern Ireland. The Free State fought a bloody internal civil war for a year,
Northern Ireland
before accepting the less-than-total independence on offer. (The Irish Republic

declared full independence in 1937.)
Northern Ireland was given its own regional parliament in Belfast. Westminster,
while retaining overall sovereignty, adopted a laissez-faire attitude and largely
ignored Northern Ireland for the next 40 years. The 1.5 million population of the
new sub-state had a 2:1 Protestant majority, reflected in its majority-rule parliament
which effectively operated under permanent Unionist control. The discontented
Catholics of Northern Ireland were viewed by this parliament – with some justifica-
tion but much exaggeration – as subversive agents of the new and hostile foreign
state to the south: they were not to be trusted or worked with, they were to be feared,
controlled and excluded.
124
With its permanent majority, and its deep-seated insecurities, the Northern
Ireland State practised decades of discrimination against Catholics in employment,
voting, education, housing, and so on. A highly segregated society developed, ruled
by a permanently Unionist government who controlled a highly armed and 90 per
cent Protestant police force. For 40 years, the society remained stagnant, with two
almost totally separate communities living parallel lives in a patchwork of small seg-
regated areas, each with their own housing, schools, shops, churches, factories,
clubs, sports, etc.
The Troubles
The stagnation ended in the 1960s. Catholic university students, influenced by
the US civil rights movement, took to the streets to demand an end to the discrimi-
natory practices of the Northern state. The “Troubles” thus began as a conflict
between Catholics and the state over civil rights. It escalated rapidly as the state and
police responded brutally to a largely peaceful protest movement. In 1969, the
Unionist Government realized that the situation was out of control, and requested
the British army to intervene. A burgeoning of hard-line Unionism frustrated any
last-minute attempts at moderate reform which might have quelled unrest. By 1972
the government was in complete disarray, but still resisting demands for reform, and
Westminster stepped in to close down the Belfast Parliament and assume direct rule
over Northern Ireland.
Britain moved rapidly to redress the more glaring civil rights grievances; but the
British army acted towards the Catholic community in extremely heavy-handed fash-
ion, rapidly alienating the Catholics it had arrived to protect. As Catholics rushed to
defend themselves against the threat of armed British troops and a Protestant back-
lash, the IRA – almost defunct in the 1960s – was reborn. The British army has
remained ever since.
From 1972, what had begun as a civil rights protest by the Catholic community
towards the Protestant/Unionist Government was transformed into a war of libera-
Northern Ireland
tion waged by the IRA against the British Government and army, and against the
local police.
The next 20 years form a history of failed political initiatives, occasional short-
lived cease-fires, an ebb and flow in the level of violence, economic and social dev-
astation to the region, the institutionalization of violence in Northern Irish society,
and an eventual military stalemate that neither side could win outright. In the
process, both communities grew more polarized than ever, the sense of stagnation
prevailed, and more than 3,000 people died violently as each community mytholo-
gized its contemporary martyrs and heroes.
The battle-lines were clearly drawn up. Catholics overwhelmingly supported the
Irish nationalist cause, which aspired to a united and independent Ireland. The
125
Ireland
main nationalist political party, the Social Democratic and Labour Party (SDLP),
espoused peaceful means towards a more just political system in Northern Ireland
and towards eventual Irish unity. Within nationalism, the smaller Republican move-
ment, consisting of the paramilitary IRA and the political party Sinn Fein (in the
Irish language, “Ourselves Alone”) advocated violent struggle to rid Ireland of the
British presence. Protestants equally fervently supported the cause of Unionism
(that is, a continuation of the union of Northern Ireland with Britain within the
UK). Mainstream political opinion was represented by the Ulster Unionist Party
(UUP), who had controlled the parliament until 1972, tempered by the smaller and
more hard-line Democratic Unionist Party (DUP), formed in the late 1960s by Ian
Paisley in response to perceived weakness within the UUP. On the fringes of
Unionism were the loyalists, paramilitary and political counterparts to the
Republicans, who adopted anti-nationalist violence to protect the Union.
Peace Initiatives
Having assumed direct rule of Northern Ireland in 1972, the British Government
had managed by late 1973 to drag the mainstream political representatives of
Unionism and Nationalism, and the Government of the Irish Republic in the South,
to a shaky political agreement that involved a new power-sharing government in the
North, and a new cross-border Council of Ireland to facilitate Southern input into
the North’s affairs. The new government, consisting of both the UUP and the SDLP,
lasted for the first five months of 1974, before massive and militant protest by the
Protestant community, enraged by the proposed Council of Ireland, brought it to
collapse and control reverted to Westminster. Direct rule continued uninterrupted
until 1998.
Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, Britain made several further attempts at
political settlement. From time to time, elections would be held for a new parliamen-
tary assembly, but the resulting bodies were always boycotted by one side or the
other. British policy was two-pronged. One aim was to enable a power-sharing gov-
Northern Ireland
ernment which would bring nationalists into a share in government within

Northern Ireland. The other aim was known as the “Irish dimension”: placating
nationalism by permitting the Irish Republic a degree of influence in Northern
affairs. Unionists might accept some form of the first, but wholly rejected the sec-
ond; while nationalists were deeply suspicious of the first without the second.
Throughout the period, paramilitaries in general, and Republicans in particular,
were excluded from political consideration. By common consent, their adoption of
violence precluded them from the democratic process. In return, the Republican
movement totally and violently rejected any of the proposed solutions.
In 1981, in the relentless glare of international publicity, 10 IRA prisoners starved
themselves to death in a stand-off with British Prime Minister Thatcher over their
126
claims to be political prisoners of war (as opposed to criminals). The resulting wave
of sympathy for Republicanism bolstered the fortunes of its political party, Sinn Fein
which, at the same time, decided to end decades of abstentionism and begin con-
testing elections in both North and South.
In response to this perceived political threat from a resurgent Republican
movement, the political parties of the Irish Republic and the SDLP met in the 1983
New Ireland Forum to develop a new definition of constitutional Irish nationalism.
The resulting Forum Report effectively redesigned Irish nationalism, and its lan-
guage and content were greatly influenced by the SDLP leader, John Hume. Old,
simplistic anti-British sentiments were replaced with new tenets of commitment to
peaceful politics and respect for the unionist tradition. The Irish Government took
the thinking of the Report as a basis for entering negotiations with Britain over what
became the 1985 Anglo-Irish Agreement, a melding of both governments’ aspira-
tions towards peaceful resolution of the Northern question. The Agreement estab-
lished several key factors formally: the governments’ commitment to work together
for peace, an Intergovernmental Conference in which Irish ministers could regu-
larly question and comment upon British policy in the North, and a secretariat of
Irish officials located in a Belfast suburb.
This international treaty between the two sovereign nations had two powerful
effects. First, it made the Republic of Ireland a partner with Britain in the process,
in contrast to their previous history of antagonism over Northern Ireland. Political
initiatives would now be authored not by Britain alone, but by both governments in
partnership. The “Irish dimension” was thus moving closer to reality. But second, in
contrast to Hume’s close, if unofficial, involvement in the drafting of the
Agreement, Unionists were not consulted about the intergovernmental negotia-
tions. They reacted with shocked anger to an Agreement that had both ignored
their opinion in its construction and, in their view, weakened the link with the UK
by allowing a “foreign” government to meddle in their affairs. Deeply alienated,
Northern Ireland
Unionist politicians withdrew from all contact with the British Government.
By 1989, however, Unionist opposition had failed to prevent the Agreement from
becoming an established fact. The Irish Government was now an engaged partner
in the political process with Britain, and Unionist anger, initially and tellingly mobi-
lized around the slogan “Ulster Says No!”, had turned to frustration. Realizing that
continued non co-operation would only make things even worse, they finally agreed
to enter discussions with the British about possible political structures, and eventu-
ally in 1991 the UUP and DUP entered British-facilitated negotiations with the
SDLP and the small, cross-community Alliance Party. Those talks failed to make
much progress, bogging down in early arguments over procedural issues. But they
did serve to set and clarify the agenda for future discussions into three strands –
127
Ireland
power-sharing arrangements for an internal Northern Ireland government under

British rule as long as a majority of the Northern population voted to retain the
Union; the practical shape of North-South institutions to strengthen the Irish
dimension; and a more developed Irish-British treaty to replace the Agreement.
By the consent of all involved, paramilitary political parties from both communi-
ties were still excluded, until such times as they would renounce violence.
The following year, talks were resumed for a further four months, and made
some progress on all three agenda strands, but eventually collapsed far short of
agreement. Meanwhile, Hume had initiated dialogue with Sinn Fein with the ulti-
mate aim of persuading them away from violence and into the political process.
During these discussions, and even during subsequent secret British-Sinn Fein com-
munications, IRA violence – bombs and shootings – continued against the British
army and the Northern Ireland police, and spread to a devastating bombing cam-
paign in England. At the same time, the two main loyalist paramilitary groups devel-
oped a new degree of sophistication both militarily, becoming much more active
against Republicans, and politically, developing new political parties to represent
their views and try to wean voters away from the mainstream Unionist parties. The
Ulster Defence Association (UDA) developed the Ulster Democratic Party (UDP),
and the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) produced the Progressive Unionist Party
(PUP).
Sinn Fein, the UDP and PUP all began to increase their political profile, but all
were strictly excluded from negotiations.
By 1994, however, Hume’s dialogue with Sinn Fein had developed into a wider
nationalist consensus involving their two Northern parties, the Irish Government
and Irish America (where a new and much less pro-British President Clinton had
been installed). The pressure intensified on Sinn Fein leader Gerry Adams to accept
the military stalemate and the necessity to engage democratically in the political
process. The result was the IRA’s cessation of violence in August 1994, followed a
Northern Ireland
month later by a loyalist cease-fire.

But political progress was too slow to satisfy Republicans. Supported by Unionists,
the British at first demanded an IRA statement that the cease-fire was permanent –
a concession which the IRA saw as tantamount to a surrender, and refused to give –
and then insisted, equally ineffectually, that IRA weapons be handed over before
Sinn Fein be permitted entry to negotiations. The British insisted on disarmament
and then talks; the paramilitaries on both sides insisted on talks first and then sub-
sequent disarming. All other discussions about progress foundered on this rock of
the decommissioning of weapons. Until that issue was resolved, the British and the
Unionists refused to admit paramilitary parties to any negotiations. Former US
Senator George Mitchell was brought in to chair a commission into the question of
128
disarmament of paramilitaries as part of the broad peace process. The commission

accepted that no group was going to disarm before talks, and suggested two com-
promises. First, disarming should happen during talks, in parallel to political
progress and as part of confidence-building measures. Second, a set of six principles
of non-violence were established, which all parties would have to endorse on entry
to the negotiations. These included a commitment to purely peaceful means, and a
renunciation of violence as a means either to achieve political ends or to undermine
an unfavourable political outcome.
But attitudes all round had hardened in the period since the cease-fires, with all
sides trying to use politics merely to wage war by other means. Eighteen months
after the IRA cease-fire, Sinn Fein were no closer to inclusion in any substantive talks
process, and in February 1996 the IRA suspended its cease-fire and returned to a
limited military campaign, mostly aimed at British military and economic targets.
The loyalist paramilitaries edgily maintained their own cease-fire agreement.
Elections went ahead to identify participants to a talks process that started in June
1996, but Sinn Fein were excluded once again until such times as the IRA might call
another cease-fire. The talks rambled on, but failed to get beyond the continuing
procedural wrangles about decommissioning and the terms of Sinn Fein’s admis-
sion. With his parliamentary majority down to one, Conservative Prime Minister
Major could exert little influence over the traditionally conservative UUP parlia-
mentary group led by David Trimble, whose 10 MPs held a potential balance of
power.
Agreement
But with the June 1997 installation of a Labour government with an unassailable
parliamentary majority, the pace picked up once more. A new IRA cease-fire was
called the following month, and inclusive talks began in September under the chair
of George Mitchell. No weapons were handed in, but all parties signed up to the
Mitchell principles of non-violence. For the very first time, Sinn Fein, the UDP and
Northern Ireland
the PUP were all included around the table. In response, the DUP and another tiny
Unionist political newcomer, the UK Unionist Party (UKUP) walked out. Around
the table, long-standing suspicions and antagonisms were rife, and progress was
interminably slow as historic foes sparred nervously with each other in an uncom-
fortable process. The two earlier talks attempts had exclusively involved only the
four mainstream and non-violent parties and the two governments. This time
around, the inclusion of the paramilitary politicians increased the chances that any
potential settlement could be more comprehensive in effectively addressing the
issues of violence, and in finally removing the gun from Irish politics. But at the
same time, inclusiveness greatly widened the distance between the viewpoints rep-
resented around the table, and made compromise all the more difficult.
129
Ireland
Three months of talks became rapidly bogged down once again in procedural
issues, with parties fighting every point. Delays and obstructionism continued, as
politicians on all sides were deeply challenged at the prospects both of facing their
long-standing enemies across the table and of finally accepting a less-than-perfect
negotiated compromise after decades of promoting absolutist positions of outright
victory. Confidence-building measures ran in parallel to the talks, consisting largely
of concessions by the two governments over paramilitary prisoners, and a lowering
of the British army profile on the ground.
As the talks inched forward painfully into 1998, frustration grew at the extreme
fringes on both sides. New anti-cease-fire paramilitary groupings emerged from both
republicanism and loyalism, and bombings and shootings began once more. After a
series of murders by the UDA, its political party the UDP was suspended for several
weeks from the negotiations for a period of “quarantine” until the cease-fire had
been restored. Shortly thereafter, Sinn Fein was suspended for two weeks because of
similar IRA activity. The violence of the politically represented paramilitaries again
subsided, but that of the uncontrolled extremes continued sporadically.
In late March, Mitchell finally announced a two-week deadline for the talks
process. By this stage, he argued, all the relevant issues had been discussed. There
was no need for further discussion or elaboration: what was needed now was a
demonstration of the political will to reach agreement. He set the deadline of mid-
night on 9 April for an agreement.
Amidst heightened tension, signs appeared that his ultimatum, backed up by
pressure from London, Dublin and Washington, might indeed produce results.
Both Irish and British premiers arrived at the talks venue, and a hotline to the White
House was established. The midnight deadline passed, talks continued through the
night and another day, and finally, to universal surprise, after 32 hours of straight
negotiation, an agreement was announced on 10 April.
The Agreement ran to over 10,000 words. It reflected closely the three-stranded
Northern Ireland
agenda upon which it was negotiated. At its heart were the design and fast-track
implementation of new core political structures and constitutional changes, sup-
ported by various commissions, each with specific deadlines for implementation, to
oversee issues whose detail was yet to be filled in. The Agreement would be offered
to the people of both North and South in simultaneous referendums in May 1998.
Of the core changes, the first would be the removal from the Irish Constitution
of the territorial claim to the North, in parallel with a British repeal of outstanding
legislation claiming jurisdiction over Ireland as a whole.
In Strand One, in June 1998, a 108-member Northern Ireland Assembly would be
elected by a single transferable vote form of proportional representation, thus
enabling the election of smaller parties. The Assembly’s consensus voting mecha-
130
nism would require minimally 40 per cent support from each of the unionist and
nationalist blocs, provided that comprised at least 60 per cent of the overall vote. Its
early decisions would concern the election of a First Minister, Deputy First Minister
and 10 ministers with departmental responsibilities. All these posts would be allo-
cated in proportion to party strength.
In Strand Two, a North-South Ministerial Council would be established consisting
of ministers from both the Irish Parliament and the Northern Irish Assembly. (The
Assembly will not be permitted to continue in operation unless the Council is imple-
mented.) Once constituted, the Council would devise cross-border implementation
bodies with an “absolute commitment” to work together in at least 12 specified areas
of common interest. Council decisions will be by agreement, and a strict timetable
is specified for the operation of all these arrangements.
In Strand Three, a new Irish-British Treaty would replace and take over the work-
ings of the 1985 Anglo-Irish Agreement, and would permit intergovernmental co-
operation on Northern matters (including sensitive ones such as security, etc.) not
yet devolved to the Assembly. A British-Irish Council to promote wider regional co-
operation would be established, comprising representatives from the Irish and
British governments, the Northern Assembly, and the forthcoming devolved assem-
blies to be established in Scotland and Wales.
Around these key structures, specific timetables were set for establishing other
reinforcing mechanisms. The European Convention on Human Rights will be fully
incorporated into Northern Irish law. A new Northern Ireland Human Rights
Commission will co-operate through committee with its Irish counterpart.
Commissions will also be established in Northern Ireland on equality, weapons
decommissioning (to be completed within two years of the referendums), police
reform, and the criminal justice system. Finally, mechanisms will be put in place by
both governments to facilitate the accelerated release (within two years) of all para-
military prisoners from groups continuing to observe cease-fires.
Ireland
It was a tortuous document, produced through a tortuous process, and was not
without a degree of the fudge that has characterized Irish negotiations for 10 years.
When it came to voting in the Northern referendum and the Assembly election, the
South Africa
key divisive issues were not the core political structures that had entailed so much
painstaking negotiation. Instead, the predominantly Unionist anti-Agreement vote
Northern
rallied around the emotive issues of early prisoner release, victims’ rights, and
doubts over the effectiveness of weapons decommissioning. The referendum
revealed fundamental divisions within Unionism. Nationalists, Republicans,
Alliance, loyalist parties and moderate Unionists won a 71 per cent pro-Agreement
majority in the referendum, and a narrow but workable majority in the Assembly.
The UUP’s Trimble was elected First Minister, with the SDLP deputy leader as his
131
Ireland
Deputy. But the DUP, UKUP and significant UUP elements coalesced into a hard-
line obstructionist tendency. The situation remained very tense throughout the
summer of 1998. Anti-Agreement Unionist's street protests waxed and waned,
threatening the fragile majority consensus. A small but well-armed anti-ceasefire
group split off from the IRA and embarked on a devastating bombing campaign in
the North. As the politicians returned to work in September to begin implementing
the provisions of the Agreement, there was still no certainty of success.
Northern Ireland
132
Democratic
Levers for
Conflict
Management
4
Appropriately crafted
C H A P T E R
democratic
Appropriately crafted
democratic institutions
institutions are
are crucial to the
sustainability of any
crucial to the
negotiated settlement.
sustainability of any
negotiated
settlement.
This chapter addresses the need to inform
domestic political actors about the options
available to them in terms of democratic
institutions. It outlines the way in which basic
institutions and policies can be purposely
designed to maximize the prospects of democracy
taking root in post-conflict societies. It also
aims to draw these issues to the attention of
interested external actors in the international
community, who may be charged with the
responsibility of crafting a settlement or
supervising a period of state reconstruction.
The following constitutional and policy levers
are discussed, and the advantages and
disadvantages of various options analysed.
4.1 Power-Sharing Democracy: An Overview

4.2 The Structure of the State: Federalism and Autonomy
4.3 Executive Type: Presidentialism versus Parliamentarism
4.4 Electoral Systems for Divided Societies
4.5 Legislatures for Post-Conflict Societies
4.6 Human Rights Instruments
4.7 Language Policy for Multi-Ethnic Societies
4.8 National Conferences
4.9 Transitional Justice
4.10 Truth Commissions and War Crimes Tribunals
4.11 Building an Electoral Administration
4.12 Gender Commissions
Ben Reilly
Democratic Levers for Conflict

Management
Democratic Levers: An Introduction
S
ince the early 1970s a revised focus on the possibilities and
prospects of democracy in divided societies has been evi-
dent around the world. At the base of this new wave of
interest in democracy has been a recognition that democratic
government, rather than oligarchy or authoritarianism, presen-
ted the best prospects for managing deep societal divisions.
Democracy increasingly came to be seen as not just possible, but
necessary, for the peaceful management of divided societies.
This more optimistic assessment of the potential of democracy
was greatly boosted by what has been characterized as the “third
wave” of democratization which, beginning in the 1970s and gai-
ning pace in the early 1990s, has seen a threefold increase in the
number of democratic governments around the world.
This unprecedented expansion of democratic government, At the base of this new
concentrated particularly in the developing world, has led to a wave of interest in
renewed focus on the question of which institutional arrange-
democracy has been a
ments are most likely to secure stable and legitimate democra-
tic government in divided or post-conflict societies. There is an recognition that
increasing recognition that the design of political institutions is democratic
a key factor affecting the likelihood or otherwise of democratic government, rather
consolidation, stability and longevity. A better understanding of than oligarchy or
the effects of political institutions also holds out the possibility
that we may be able to design institutions so that desired out-
authoritarianism,
comes – for example, co-operation and compromise – are rewar- presented the best
ded. Three broad areas of constitutional design have received prospects for
particular attention in this regard: the territorial structure of the managing deep
state; the form of the state’s legislative and executive functions;
societal divisions.
and the nature and structure of a state’s rules of political repre-
sentation. This has meant careful examination of the competing
claims of different forms of power sharing, federalism, the ben-
efits of parliamentary versus presidential government, the polit-
ical consequences of different electoral laws, and so on. Recent
transitions to democracy in South Africa, Chile, the Philippines
and elsewhere have also focused attention on “extra-constitu-
tional” institutions and policies which may be of particular util-
135
Democratic Levers: An
Introduction
ity to countries emerging from a period of deep hostility and

conflict. These include the use of transitional justice mechanisms
such as truth and reconciliation commissions, war crime tribun-
als, gender commissions, electoral administrations and so on.
While there are many devices, these interlocking “constitutional”
and “extra-constitutional” mechanisms will be the focus of this
chapter.
A basic precept of this handbook is that robust democratic
governance is itself a fundamental pillar of building any sustain-
able settlement of a violent conflict. Democracy is a system by
which conflicts in a society are allowed to formulate, find expres-
sion and be managed in a sustainable way, via institutional out-
lets such as political parties and representative parliaments, rather
than being suppressed or ignored. It is, in the words of Adam
Przeworski, a system for managing and processing rather than
resolving conflicts. Disputes under democracy are never defini-
tively “solved”; rather they are temporarily accommodated and
thus reformulated for next time. The best example of this is the
electoral process itself, where parties and individuals may “win”
or “lose”, but where the losers may win next time and the win-
ners know that their victory is only temporary.
Furthermore, the comparative experience of deeply divided
societies to date strongly indicates that democratic procedures,
which have the necessary inclusiveness and flexibility to manage
deep-rooted identity-based conflicts, stand the best chance of
delivering a lasting peace. In societies divided along identity
lines, for example, the type of political institutions that protect
group and individual rights, deliver meaningful devolution and
encourage political bargaining are probably only possible with-
in the frameworks of a democracy. Democracy is based, at least
in part, on a common conception and adherence to the “rule of
law”, which protects both political actors and the wider civil society.
Ultimately, as democratic practices and values become inter-
nalized in the workings of society, democratic governance creates
the conditions for its own sustenance. That is why a valuable
indicator as to whether a country is likely to continue to be
democratic is to look at its history: the longer the democratic
history to date, the better the prospects that such behaviour will
continue in the future.
A “minimal” conception of democracy, in terms of the right
to participate in free and fair elections, has rapidly emerged as
a fundamental international norm for states to observe. For de-
mocracy to be meaningful, however, these “rules of the game”
136
Democratic Levers: An Introduction
must have a meaning for political competitors beyond the dry

pages of statute books or constitutions. They must be valued,
and observed, of and for themselves. This is what is meant by de-
mocratic consolidation: that democratic practices become so deep-
ly internalized by political actors that acting outside the insti-
tutional “rules of the game” becomes unthinkable. This de-
mands a faith in the integrity of the political process that may
not always be forthcoming in situations of deep hostility or con-
flict.
There is a significant caveat concerning this rosy view of de-
mocracy, however, and it concerns the nature of democratic in-
stitutions. Different types of society require different types of
institutions. Federalism, for example, may be irrelevant to small
homogenous countries but a virtual necessity for large hetero-
geneous ones (and it is thus no surprise that many large diverse
countries like Canada, India, Australia and the US are all feder-
al states). Different types of electoral systems can ensure the
proportionate representation of minority groups or single-
handedly ensure their exclusion. Parliaments and executives
can be structured in such a way as to give all groups a share of
power, or to enable one group to dominate over all others. The
use of truth and reconciliation commissions can be a way to help
heal old wounds, or to re-open them. Appropriately crafted
democratic institutions are thus crucial to the sustainability of
any negotiated settlement.
Unfortunately, the significance of institutional design has of- The constitutional
ten been overlooked or ignored by both disputants and nego- choices made during a
tiators in many recent attempts to resolve conflicts. Indeed, con-
stitution-makers in new democracies have often been content to settlement process can
restore the very institutions that were conducive to the previous often have major
breakdown, or else to look for inspiration to the institutions of repercussions for a
the apparently successful democracies of the West, even though
nation’s future
these have seldom been fashioned for the demands of post-con-
flict societies. The constitutional choices made at these times prospects, so it is
can often have major repercussions for a nation’s future pros- important to get them
pects, so it is important to get them right from the start. We hope right from the start.
this chapter will help political actors make the best choices for
their country by clarifying the range and consequences of the
different institutional models.

Diamond, Larry. 1995. Promoting Democracy in the 1990s:
Actors and Instruments, Issues and Imperatives. New York:
Carnegie Commission on Preventing Deadly Conflict.
137
Democratic Levers: An
Introduction

in the Late Twentieth Century. Norman, OK: University of
Oklahoma Press.
Przeworski, Adam. 1991. Democracy and the Market: Political
and Economic Reforms in Eastern Europe and Latin America.
138
4.1 Power-Sharing Democracy: Timothy D. Sisk

An Overview
4.1 Power-Sharing Democracy: An Overview
In power-sharing political systems, decision-making ideally

occurs by consensus. All major ethnic groups in the country
are included in government, and minorities, especially, are
assured influence in policy-making on sensitive issues such
as language use and education. Power-sharing democracy is
often contrasted with “regular” or majoritarian, winner-
take-all democracy in which the losers of elections must wait
out-of-power in loyal opposition for a later chance to replace
the government of the day.
4.1.1 Preventing or escaping deep-rooted conflict

4.1.2 Group building-block versus integrative approaches
4.1.3–4.1.4 When does power sharing work?
A Menu of Options 2 Power-Sharing Mechanisms (pp. 144–145)
4.1.1 Preventing or escaping deep-rooted conflict

The early introduction of power sharing can potentially pre-
vent identity-based conflicts from turning violent. For example,
many believe that getting a power-sharing agreement in Kosovo
(an Albanian-majority province in Serb-majority former Yugosla-
via) will be critical to keeping identity-related disputes in the re-
gion (e.g., education policy) from further escalating into an-
other war in the Balkans. When governments are democratic
and inclusive, the argument goes, violent conflicts can be
prevented because minorities won’t need to resort to violence to
advance their interests.
Moreover, power sharing is seen as a viable route to escaping
deadly conflicts. Following bitter wars such as in Bosnia, most
observers agreed that the only way to preserve a united, multi-
ethnic country – to keep the country from splitting up alto-
gether – was to create a post-war system of government in which
the Bosnian Croat, Bosniac (Muslim), and Bosnian Serb communi-
ties could share power (see Bosnia Case Study).
139
4.1 Power-Sharing
Democracy: An Overview
The 1995 Dayton Accord set up a political system in which the

three communities would make decisions collaboratively through
a joint presidency and a parliament that included, in rough pro-
portion to the population, the three main groups. Although it
doesn’t function as well as it was designed on paper, Bosnia’s
nascent power-sharing system appears to be its best chance to
create a viable multi-ethnic democracy after such an intense civil
war. Power sharing is also seen as a way to end civil wars and get
a negotiated settlement – and to build more legitimate democ-
ratic institutions – in current conflicts as far afield as Sri Lanka,
Sudan and Tajikistan, as it was in other recent conflicts such as
Angola, Sierra Leone or Cambodia.
4.1.2 Differences in approach
When governments Policy-makers and scholars differ over whether a group build-
are democratic and ing-block approach like that adopted in the Dayton Accord for
Bosnia – in which groups (usually ethnically homogenous polit-
inclusive, the ical parties) are viewed as the building blocks of a common soci-
argument goes, violent ety – leads to better conflict management than an integrative ap-
conflicts can be proach to power sharing. The latter approach emphasizes levers
prevented because to build political alliances across lines of conflict.
minorities won’t need The group building-block approach relies on accommodation
by ethnic group leaders at the political centre and guarantees
to resort to violence to for group autonomy and minority rights. The key institutions
advance their are federalism and the devolution of power to ethnic groups in
interests. territory that they control, minority vetoes on issues of particu-
lar importance to them, grand coalition cabinets in a parlia-
mentary framework, and proportionality in all spheres of public
life (e.g., budgeting and civil service appointments). Like Bos-
nia, Lebanon has a political system in which representation and
autonomy for the country’s main religious groups is guaranteed
in the constitution.
The integrative approach eschews ethnic groups as the build-
ing blocks of a common society. In South Africa’s 1993 interim
constitution, for example, ethnic group representation was ex-
plicitly rejected in favour of institutions and policies that delib-
erately promote social integration across group lines. Election
laws (in combination with the delimitation of provincial bound-
aries) have had the effect of encouraging political parties to put
up candidate slates – if they want to maximize the votes they get
– that reflected South Africa’s highly diverse society. And the
federal provinces were created so as not to overlap with ethnic
group boundaries (South Africa’s groups are more widely dis-
persed in any event).
140
4.1 Power-Sharing Democracy:

An Overview
Thus, the integrative approach seeks to build multi-ethnic pol-

itical coalitions (again, usually political parties), to create incen-
tives for political leaders to be moderate on divisive ethnic themes,
and to enhance minority influence in majority decision-making.
The elements of an integrative approach include electoral
systems that encourage pre-election pacts across ethnic lines,
non-ethnic federalism that diffuses points of power, and public
policies that promote political allegiances that transcend
groups.
The group building-block and integrative approaches can be
fruitfully viewed as opposite poles in a spectrum of power-shar-
ing institutions and practices. Which approach is best? To make
such a determination, it is useful to consider power-sharing prac-
tices in terms of three dimensions that apply to both approach-
es: territorial division of power, decision rules, and public poli-
cies that define relations between the government and the eth-
nic groups. With these dimensions in mind, a “menu” of power-
sharing institutions and practices is offered (see “Power-Sharing
Mechanisms: A Menu of Options”, pp. 144–145).
Like any menu, levers of democratic influence can be com-
bined to suit individual tastes. In deciding which power-sharing
institutions and practices might work, there is no substitute for
intimate knowledge of any given country. In multi-ethnic Fiji,
for example, an 18-month expert review of the country’s political
system produced a set of recommendations for a new constitu-
tion that combines measures to guarantee a minimum level of
indigenous Fijian and Indo-Fijian representation in parliament
(a group building-block option) with electoral incentives to pro-
mote the formation of political alliances across ethnic lines (an
integrative option).
4.1.3 Promoting power sharing
Often, external parties in the international community have
promoted power sharing by offering formulas – institutional
blueprints for political structures – to prevent or escape ethnic
conflicts. International mediators have also sought to induce the
political leaders of contending groups to accept these blueprints
through a combination of diplomatic carrots and sticks, such as
offering aid or threatening sanctions.
For example, the United Nations secretariat has produced a
“set of ideas” for a bi-zonal, bi-federal arrangement for power
sharing between Greek Cypriot and Turkish Cypriot communi-
ties in Cyprus. Autonomy frameworks have been proposed to
141
4.1 Power-Sharing
help resolve the disputes between majority and minority com-

munities in Indonesia (East Timor) and Sri Lanka. The peace
accord for Northern Ireland sets up a number of cross-border
power-sharing institutions and creates a new assembly in the
disputed territory (see Northern Ireland Case Study). Each of these
plans is backed by diplomatic initiatives to pledge international
assistance in implementation if the parties agree to share power
in parliament instead of contesting it on the battlefields or in
the streets.
Increasingly, the international community is using linkages to
other issues, such as membership in collective security, trade,
and other international organizations, to persuade states to
adopt power-sharing practices that promote ethnic accommoda-
tion. The European Union has invoked these conditionalities in
its relations with some Eastern European states, such as
Romania, to encourage management of ethnic-Romanian and
ethnic-Hungarian differences through democratic political
structures.
Promoting democratic conflict-regulating practices in this
manner can be a useful tool of diplomacy to arrest the escalation
of ethnic conflicts into violence or to bring them to an end after
preventive efforts fail. Moreover, even when democracy may be
a long way off, the international community can exert pressure
for the adoption of conflict-regulating practices by non-democratic
states, such as fair treatment of ethnic minorities and the creation
of ethnically diverse security forces.
4.1.4 When can power sharing succeed?
Power-sharing agreements that looked good on paper have
failed in recent conflict settings such as Rwanda and Burundi. In
both of these countries in which majority-Hutu and minority-
Tutsi ethnic groups have a history of violent strife, efforts to find
solutions by creating power-sharing democratic institutions pro-
ved to be insufficient in overcoming deep distrust and the per-
ception of mutual victimization. In both cases, the power-shar-
ing experiments broke down and violent clashes ensued; in
Rwanda, an incipient power-sharing pact was scuttled by the
1994 genocide there, a deliberate move by its perpetrators.
Similarly, before the outbreak of civil wars in Lebanon and
Cyprus in the mid-1970s, these countries had power-sharing sys-
tems. Lebanon’s civil war was eventually ended with a new
power-sharing pact (the 1990 Taif Accord), and, as mentioned
above, a revival of power sharing seems to be a preferred out-
come to Cyprus’s long-running communal conflict.
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4.1 Power-Sharing Democracy:

An Overview
Policy-makers and scholars with difficult choices in complex

conflicts rightly ask straightforward questions about experiences
with the various levers of democratic practice in divided soci-
eties. Under what conditions does power sharing work, and
under what conditions does it fail? Under what conditions do
power-sharing systems entrench group identities and collapse
into violent conflict, and when do they lead over time to more
pluralistic and sustainable patterns of democracy?
Naturally, there are no simple answers to the questions posed
above, but some conclusions can be drawn. For power-sharing
democracy to work, there must be a sufficiently strong core of
moderates – including both political elites and the broader civil
society – that seeks pragmatic coexistence in a multi-ethnic soci-
ety. Moderates committed to sharing power in a multi-ethnic
democracy must also be able to withstand pressures created by
extremist politicians and publics who mobilize on divisive ethnic
themes as a route to power. This critical core of moderates
appears to exist in South Africa, it might exist or be created in
Bosnia, and it is clearly absent in Rwanda and Burundi. Without
the existence of a core of moderate voices, multi-ethnic coun-
tries are likely to succumb to inter-group violence and, poten-
tially, state collapse or disintegration.
When a sufficiently cohesive core of moderates does exist,
power sharing is a viable means of democratic conflict manage-
ment. Although there is no single, transportable model of power
sharing, there is a broad menu of public policies, institutions,
and mechanisms to promote democracy in countries with deep-
rooted identity conflicts. The actual form of power sharing
(group building-block versus integrative) seems to be less impor-
tant than the extent to which the agreement to create a power-
sharing system is the result of good-faith bargaining and negoti-
ation among the contending social forces. The negotiation pro-
cess itself must be inclusive and legitimate.
Power-sharing systems work best when, ideally, they are a
temporary measure to build confidence until more customary, some-
times-win-and-sometimes-lose democracy can be embraced. This
appears to be the course that South Africa will take; its final con-
stitution, adopted in 1996, is much more majoritarian even
though minority rights are closely guarded. Whether the wither-
ing away of power sharing in a more conflicted society such as
Bosnia is possible, or whether power sharing will fail leading to
the country’s dissolution, remains an open question. But the
143
POWER-SHARING MECHANISMS
POWER-SHARING POLITICAL SYSTEMS
■ Decision-making ideally occurs by consensus;

■ All major ethnic groups included in government; minorities, especially, are
assured influence in policy-making on sensitive issues (i.e., language use,
education);
■ Can take two forms: group building-block approach and integrative approach.
GROUP BUILDING-BLOCK
■ Ethnically homogenous groups (political parties) form building blocks of

common society;
■ Key elements: federalism and devolution of power to ethnic groups in the
territory that they control; minority vetoes on sensitive issues; grand coalition
cabinets; proportionality in all spheres of public life;
■ Example: Dayton Accord for Bosnia.
INTEGRATIVE
■ Political alliances across lines of conflict; thus creating incentives for

political leaders to be moderate on divisive ethnic themes; and enhancing
minority influence in majority decision-making;
■ Key elements: electoral systems that encourage pre-election pacts across
ethnic lines; non-ethnic federalism that diffuses points of power; public
policies that promote political allegiances that transcend groups;
■ Example: South Africa’s 1993 interim constitution.

Although the following menu presents two conceptually distinct approaches, it is clear that
in the real world, power-sharing options can be pieced together in a number of ways.
FIVE GROUP BUILDING-BLOCK

OPTIONS
1. Granting territorial autonomy to ethnic groups and creating confederal

arrangements;
2. Adopting constitutional provisions that ensure a minimum level of group
representation (quotas) at all levels of government;
3. Adopting group proportional representation in administrative appointments,
including consensus-oriented decision rules in the executive;
4. Adopting a highly proportional electoral system in a parliamentary
framework; and
5. Acknowledging group rights or corporate (non-territorial) federalism (e.g.,
own-language schools) in law and practice.
FIVE INTEGRATIVE OPTIONS
1. Creating a mixed, or non-ethnic, federal structure, with boundaries drawn on

other criteria such as natural features or economic development zones;
2. Establishing an inclusive, centralized unitary state without further subdividing
territory;
3. Adopting winner-take-all but ethnically diverse executive, legislative, and
administrative decision-making bodies (e.g., a purposefully diverse language
board to set policies on language use);
4. Adopting an electoral system that encourages the formation of pre-election
coalitions (vote pooling) across ethnic divides; and
5. Devising “ethnicity-blind” public policies and laws to ensure non-
discrimination on the basis of identity or religious affiliation.
LESSONS LEARNED
1. For power sharing to work, there must be a strong core of moderates – both
political elite and civil society – that seeks coexistence. Moderates must be
able to withstand pressures by extremist politicians and publics.
2. More important than the actual form of power sharing (group building-block
or integrative) is the extent to which agreement to create power-sharing
system is the result of good-faith bargaining and negotiation.
3. Power-sharing systems work best when they are a temporary measure to build
confidence until more permanent structures can be developed.

4.1 Power-Sharing
present alternative to power sharing in Bosnia is not “regular” or

majoritarian democracy, it is the abandonment of Bosnia as a
multi-ethnic country altogether. Unfortunately, this is the case
in many other deep-rooted ethnic conflicts as well.

Horowitz, Donald L. 1985. Ethnic Groups in Conflict. Berkeley,
CA: University of California Press.
Horowitz, Donald L. 1990. “Making Moderation Pay: the
Comparative Politics of Ethnic Conflict Management”. In
Joseph V. Montville. ed. Conflict and Peacemaking in
Multiethnic Societies. New York, NY: Lexington Books.
Lijphart, Arend. 1977. Democracy in Plural Societies. New
Haven, CT: Yale University Press
Lijphart, Arend. 1991. “Constitutional Choices for New
Democracies”, Journal of Democracy, no. 2. (winter 1991)
pp. 72–84.
Sisk, Timothy D. 1996. Power Sharing and International
Mediation in Ethnic Conflicts. Washington, DC: United States
146
Northern Ireland
Christopher Bennett
Case Study: Bosnia-Herzegovina
BOSNIA-HERZEGOVINA
At its simplest, the Bosnian question boils down to two issues: how 2.2 million
Muslim Slavs (Bosniacs) can live amid 4.5 million Croats and 8.5 million Serbs in the
wider region of the former Yugoslavia; and how 750,000 Croats and 1.3 million Serbs
can live together with 1.9 million Bosniacs within Bosnia-Herzegovina (Bosnia)
itself. Depending on where borders are drawn and whether they are respected,
Bosniacs either form a minority squeezed between two more powerful ethnic
groups, or they comprise a relative majority in a territory shared with two large
minority communities, both of which consider the neighbouring states of Croatia
and rump Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro) their mother countries.
The current arrangement, enshrined in the Dayton Accords, is the result of three
years and nine months of fighting within Bosnia – much of it three-sided – and four
and a half years of warfare within the former Yugoslavia. It was reached after more
than 100,000 deaths (the exact figure is not known) and the expulsion of about half
of Bosnia’s 4.3 million population from their homes in so-called ethnic cleansing. It
was agreed between Bosnia’s Bosniac President, Alija Izetbegovic, on behalf of
Bosnia; Croatia’s President Franjo Tudjman, on behalf of Bosnian Croats; and
Serbia’s then President Slobodan Milosevic, on behalf of Bosnian Serbs. And it fol-
lowed several years of failed attempts by international mediators to broker an agree-
ment; massive, belated and concerted international pressure for a settlement; and
three weeks of intense negotiations at a US airforce base in Dayton, Ohio during
November 1995.
Power Sharing under Dayton
Under Dayton, Bosnia is defined as a single state with three main constituent
peoples – Bosniacs, Serbs and Croats – divided into two entities: the Federation of
Bosnia and Herzegovina (Federation), comprising 51 per cent of the territory, and
Bosnia-Herzegovina
Republika Srpska, 49 per cent. Despite being one country, both entities have their
own armed forces (and the Federation army is effectively divided into Croat and
Bosniac forces), whose strength is regulated and related to that of the neighbouring
states. The ratio between the military stockpiles of rump Yugoslavia, Croatia and
Bosnia is 5:2:2, and within Bosnia between the Federation and Republika Srpska is
2:1. The country which emerged out of Dayton nevertheless inherited the political
independence, territorial integrity and sovereignty of the previous state, the repub-
lic of Bosnia-Herzegovina, a former republic of the Socialist Federal Republic of
Yugoslavia but internationally recognized and admitted to the United Nations short-
ly after the outbreak of war in April 1992.
Dayton contains 11 annexes, of which only the first concerns the cease-fire and
military matters. The remaining 10 cover civilian aspects of the peace plan, in-
cluding the right of displaced Bosnians to return to their homes or to be compen-
149
Case Study: Bosnia-
Herzegovina
sated for the loss of their property. And the future shape of the country depends as
much on the manner in which the civilian side of the peace plan is implemented, as
on the political structures contained within it.
Bosnia’s central institutions are weak. They are responsible for foreign policy, var-
ious aspects of foreign trade policy – including setting import tariffs (though criti-
cally not gathering the revenue) – inter-entity communications and criminal law
enforcement. Other matters, including tax collection, are left for the two entities.
Although the entities are able to establish “special parallel relationships with neigh-
bouring states”, these have to be “consistent with the sovereignty and territorial
integrity of Bosnia”. With the consent of the Parliamentary Assembly, the entities
can enter into specific agreements with states or international bodies. The
Federation may, therefore, form special links with Croatia, and Republika Srpska
may form special ties with rump Yugoslavia, but neither entity can break away from
Bosnia.
The Parliamentary Assembly has two chambers: the House of Peoples and the
House of Representatives. The former has 15 members, five from each constituent
people – 10 (five Bosniacs and five Croats) from the Federation and five (Serbs)
from Republika Srpska. The Bosniac and Croat members are appointed from the
House of Peoples of the Federation and the Serbs are nominated from the
Republika Srpska Assembly. Nine delegates, with at least three from each com-
munity, have to be present for a quorum. The House of Representatives has 42
members, 28 of whom are elected from the Federation and 14 from Republika
Srpska. A majority of those present in both chambers is the basic requirement for
taking decisions in the Parliamentary Assembly. However, each constituent people
has the right to declare any prospective decision “destructive of a vital interest”, in
which case the proposal requires “a majority of the Bosniac, of the Croat and of the
Serb Delegates present and voting”. In such a way, decisions are to be made by
Bosnia-Herzegovina
broad consensus and not against the declared vital interest of any community.
The “vital interest” mechanism is also a feature of the three-person Presidency.
This is made up of one Bosniac and one Croat, both directly elected from the terri-
tory of the Federation, and one Serb, directly elected from Republika Srpska. Since
each voter is only able to cast one ballot at the presidential level, Bosniacs effect-
ively elect the Bosniac member, Serbs elect the Serb member, and Croats elect the
Croat member. Although the Presidency should aim to reach decisions by consen-
sus, a majority decision is possible, subject to certain limitations. In the event of a
two-to-one decision, Presidency members can, in the following three days, declare a
decision to be “destructive of a vital interest”, in which case the decision is referred
to either the Republika Srpska Assembly or either the Bosniac or Croat members of
the House of Peoples in the Federation. A vote of two thirds of the relevant group
within 10 days renders the decision null and void. The Presidency appoints the gov-
ernment, or Council of Ministers, of which no more than two thirds of ministers can
150
come from the Federation and deputy ministers may not be of the same constituent
people as the minister.
International Presence
Taken together, all these mechanisms mean that the system requires broad agree-
ment and consensus to function. However, given the existing animosity and absence
of trust, and the fact that both Serb and Croat political leaders continue to believe
that union with their mother countries is a viable alternative to Bosnia, such con-
sensus does not exist. Indeed, if left entirely up to the former warring factions,
Dayton would never be implemented. The accord therefore includes provision for
international involvement in all aspects of the peace process – in addition to a
NATO-led peace-keeping force (initially consisting of 60,000 troops) – with overall
co-ordination entrusted to a so-called High Representative, under the authority of
the UN Security Council.
The Organisation for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) has a three-
pronged mandate in Bosnia. It monitors the human rights situation; it oversees arms
reduction; and it supervises elections. And a UN International Police Task Force
(IPTF), made up of (initially 1,500) unarmed foreign police officers, assists, advises,
monitors and observes the work of local police.
Foreign influence is equally crucial in a host of ostensibly domestic institutions.
There is, for example, a foreign Human Rights Ombudsman who is appointed by
the OSCE for the first five years of Dayton implementation; the Governor of the
Central Bank is a foreigner appointed by the International Monetary Fund (IMF)
for the first six years; and three out of the nine members of the Constitutional Court
are foreigners appointed by the President of the European Court of Human Rights.
And this massive presence is cushioned by a five-year $US 5.1 billion reconstruction
plan, designed and guided by the World Bank. Bosnia-Herzegovina
Though critical to the peace process, the scale of the international presence is in
some ways counter-productive to Bosnia’s long-term future. On the one hand,
Northern Ireland
domestic institutions and politicians have to a large extent given up responsibility
for governing their own country. On the other, the massive international stake has
led key players to declare the peace process a success, irrespective of how it is actu-
ally evolving, since failure would reflect badly on those statespeople, organizations
and countries responsible for the agreement. For example, elections were sched-
uled to take place between six and nine months after Dayton came into force and
were duly held exactly nine months from the day the agreement was signed.
However, even though the poll succeeded only in cementing the results of ethnic
cleansing, amounting to an inaccurate ethnic census of the population where more
than 100 percent of the electorate voted, the event was hailed as a “triumph of
democracy”. Moreover, since the poll, the ethnically based parties which dominate
151
Case Study: Bosnia-
Herzegovina
Bosnian politics have refused to work together; the common institutions – whose
formation was ostensibly the reason that elections needed to take place – have failed
to function in a meaningful manner; and the international community, in particu-
lar the High Representative, has had to take on an increasing role, imposing solu-
tions on recalcitrant Bosnian institutions, and even ruling on issues such as the
design of the country’s flag.
That the peace remains so fragile is hardly surprising, given the circumstances in
which Dayton was arrived at. For the settlement was agreed by the very individuals
who were responsible for the war in the first place and who were aiming, above all,
to secure their own political future. Moreover, it was brokered by US diplomats, and
in particular Richard Holbrooke, whose overriding concern was to stop the fighting
and get events in Bosnia off the international political agenda because of the acri-
mony the conflict had created within the NATO alliance.
Why Dayton Worked
Dayton succeeded where earlier peace plans had failed because of the single-
minded determination of the US negotiating team and the backing they received
from other countries; because, after years of humiliation, there was a genuine threat
that European troops (in particular British and French) who made up the backbone
of the UN force in Bosnia would be withdrawn in the event of failure; and because
of a fundamental shift in the military balance, which had been in part engineered
by US diplomacy. In the course of 1995 the tide of battle changed, first in neigh-
bouring Croatia and then in Bosnia. Two out of three Serb-held enclaves in Croatia
were overrun in lightning strikes in May and August and, with the support of
Bosnian Croat forces and the predominantly-Bosniac Bosnian Army, the offensive
rolled forward into Bosnia reversing many of the early Serb war gains. Diplomatic
pressure brought a halt to the offensive when the territorial division within the
Bosnia-Herzegovina
country corresponded to that envisaged in earlier peace plans proposed by interna-

tional mediators.
Dayton was but the last in a long line of internationally brokered peace plans, one
of which, the Vance-Owen plan (named after Cyrus Vance and David Owen, its
sponsors) is worthy of special note. Unlike Dayton, the Vance-Owen plan attempted
to build the concept of multi-ethnicity into the system throughout the country.
Though it too entailed a territorial division and the creation of 10 regions – nine of
which were deemed to have an ethnic majority of one people and one (Sarajevo) to
be mixed – it guaranteed minority ethnic representation in each region via a com-
plex constitutional plan designed by the Finnish diplomat Martti Ahtisaari. The
Vance-Owen plan failed, however, because it did not receive international, in par-
ticular US, backing and was rejected by the Bosnian Serbs. No country was willing to
risk deploying forces to reverse Serb military gains.
152
When war broke out in the former Yugoslavia in 1991, the international commu-
nity had no choice but to become directly involved because the fighting was so geo-
graphically close to key western European countries. The former Yugoslavia borders
three European Union member states and literally divides 14 of them physically
from Greece. International media devoted massive attention to the conflict and
hundreds of thousands of refugees fleeing the fighting began making their way to
western Europe, and in particular to Germany. But without the political will to
address the massive imbalance in fire-power within the former Yugoslavia and neu-
tralize overwhelming Serb superiority, the only strategy open to international medi-
ators was one of appeasement – determining the minimalist Serb position and
attempting to persuade Croats and Bosniacs to accept it. And the minimalist Serb
position essentially amounted to the construction of a Serb state comprising all ter-
ritory in the former Yugoslavia inhabited by Serbs, irrespective of the wishes of the
non-Serb population.
Of Bosnia’s 109 municipalities, 37 had an absolute Bosniac majority, 32 an
absolute Serb majority and 13 an absolute Croat majority. A further 15 municipali-
ties had a simple Bosniac majority, five a simple Serb majority and 13 a simple Croat
majority. With the exception of Croat-populated western Herzegovina, an absolute
majority rarely accounted for more than 70 per cent of the population, and as often
as not neighbouring municipalities had majorities of one of the republic’s other
peoples. Bosnia could not therefore fragment neatly along an ethnic line, because
there was no ethnic line to fragment along. Dividing Bosnia into ethnic territories
would inevitably be messy and require massive population transfers.
The fundamental cause of conflict in the former Yugoslavia in the early 1990s was
not, however, simply the drive by the country’s Serbs to forge their own national
state at the expense of their neighbours. Structurally speaking, this was only a man-
ifestation of what was and remains a much deeper-rooted problem. For as commu- Bosnia-Herzegovina
nism disintegrated in eastern Europe, the gel that had held Yugoslavia together
since World War Two disappeared and the country was ill-equipped institutionally
Northern Ireland
to deal with the transition to democracy. Nearly half a century of communism had
failed to resolve the national question. Indeed, it may even be argued that commu-
nist rule had exacerbated the potential for conflict within Yugoslavia since, in prac-
tice, it had stifled open dialogue on ethnic issues. Moreover, the planned economy
had failed to sustain prosperity and had been disintegrating throughout the 1980s.
Although Bosnians had appeared to live together in reasonable harmony before
the war, ethnic identities formed over centuries of Ottoman rule – when each reli-
gious community was governed separately under its own spiritual rulers – remained
strong. As a result, when elections took place in 1990, the poll approximated to an
ethnic census as the electorate divided along ethnic lines. Though the ethnically
based parties were ostensibly in coalition and governing together, they rapidly fell
out with each other and politics descended into a “zero-sum” game, much like the
153
Case Study: Bosnia-
Herzegovina
current situation, as Serbs, and later Croats, decided that they had an alternative to
Bosnia. This pattern was repeated at Bosnia’s post-Dayton 1996 elections, where the
major parties based their campaign almost exclusively on nationalist appeals to their
own ethnic group, thus reinforcing the divisions of the war rather than encouraging
politics centred on other, less damaging, issues.
Though it is without doubt possible to contain the Bosnian conflict almost in-
definitely, this requires policing and is an extremely costly approach. Moreover,
international leaders who have troops deployed in Bosnia are acutely aware of the
political risks they are running domestically, should, for example, any of their sol-
diers be killed. In addition to containing the conflict, therefore, they are hoping to
find an exit strategy. Prospects of troop withdrawal or substantial reduction are
poor, however, because of instability elsewhere in the region, and in particular in
Yugoslavia and the southern Balkans. Indeed, as the predominantly Albanian
province of Kosovo disintegrates in ethnic violence, international involvement and
presence throughout the region is expanding, not contracting. And whether in
Kosovo, Macedonia or Bosnia, the fundamental problem remains of how to recon-
cile the legitimate interests of different communities living side by side.
Bosnia-Herzegovina
154
4.2 The Structure of the State: Yash Ghai

Federalism and Autonomy
4.2 The Structure of the State: Federalism and Autonomy
Most solutions to internal conflicts require adjustments to

the structure of the state. In this section we discuss how
federalist and autonomy arrangements can help defuse
tensions within a state by devolving greater powers to ethnic
groups.
4.2.1–4.2.2 Means of devolving power

4.2.3 Examples of federalism and autonomy
4.2.4 Legal basis for autonomy
4.2.5 Advantages of autonomy solutions
4.2.6 Resistance to autonomy
4.2.7 Structuring autonomous arrangements
Many conflicts centre on the role of the state in society and

emanate principally from its structure and organization. In most
countries, the state is the most powerful organization, even
when it is not very effective in implementing policy. Control of
the state usually provides access to economic power since the
state is the major means of the reproduction of capital. Conse-
quently, there is strong competition for control over the state
apparatus and this struggle is the cause of many of today’s con-
flicts. These conflicts can be prevented or mediated by re-struc-
turing of the state, or by official policies, such as re-distribution
through affirmative action mechanisms, recognition of personal
laws and other forms of pluralism, fairer electoral laws and
forms of power sharing (these elements are discussed in other
parts of the handbook).
Problems also arise from attempts to adopt symbols of the
state that are rooted in the religion or traditions of one commu-
nity (Sri Lanka, Malaysia, etc.) which alienate other communi-
ties. A solution might be neutral symbols (like democracy, hu-
man rights and the rule of law), secularism as a kind of state
nationalism, but many leaders consider that its capacity to
inspire loyalty among their supporters is limited. A more
productive strategy is often to look at ways of devolving power
via federalism, autonomy or other adjustments to the structure
of the state.
155
4.2 The Structure of the
State: Federalism and
Autonomy
4.2.1 Means of devolving power

There are a wide variety of arrangements for the devolution
of power. In considering these options, it is important not to see
them as mutually exclusive or as either/or alternatives. Given
the current variations in diversity, in terms of numbers, identity
and resources, within one single state some combination of de-
vices may be required (as the Canadian and Indian experiences
reveal).
There is strong Federalism. The best known arrangement is federalism, where
competition for control power is devolved equally to all regions and each region has an
identical relationship to the central government. While tradi-
over the state
tionally federalism has not been used to solve problems of eth-
apparatus, and this nic diversity, there have been instances where federalism has
struggle is the cause of proven effective. For example, the adoption of federalism in
many of today’s Switzerland and Canada was partially motivated by the need to
conflicts. These accommodate diverse communities. Also, the federal device was
used frequently for the settlement of ethnic problems at the end
conflicts can be
of World War Two, for example in India, Malaysia, and Nigeria.
mediated by looking Federalism has been argued for in other contexts as well, such
at ways of devolving as during the discussions in South Africa leading to the post-
power by federalism, apartheid settlement.
autonomy or other If the need is to accommodate only one or two minority
adjustments to the groups, however, the federal model may be unnecessary. Also,
the federal model may not be seen to be sufficiently sensitive to
structures of the state.
the cultural and other needs of a community. Consequently,
there have been two alternative responses: asymmetrical federalism
and autonomy.
Asymmetrical federalism. In an asymmetrical federation, one
or more federal states are vested with special powers not granted
to other provinces, to allow for preservation of the culture and
language of its settlers. An old example of this is Quebec, and a
more contemporary instance is Kashmir’s special status within
the Indian federation.
Autonomy. An autonomous arrangement, in which only one
or more regions have devolved to them special powers, is more
common. Autonomy tends by its very nature to be asymmetric.
Examples of autonomy include: two provinces in the Philippines
(the Cordillera and Mindanao), Zanzibar in relation to Tanza-
nia, Hong Kong in relation to China, Greenland in relation to
Denmark, Puerto Rico in relation to the US, the Autonomous
Communities in Spain, and Åland in relation to Finland.
156
4.2 The Structure of the State:

An important distinction between federalism and autonomy

is that in federations the regions participate actively in national
institutions and national policy-making, in addition to control-
ling devolved subjects within the region. In autonomy, the em-
phasis is on the region’s power to control its own affairs, rather
than to participate in national institutions. (The case of Zanzi-
bar is somewhat anomalous, given its influence in the national
parliament and in the executive disproportionate to its size, re-
sulting in much resentment on the mainland.)
Reserves. These were first used by European settlers in the
Americas, to isolate and dominate indigenous peoples, and were
subsequently used in Australia, Africa and parts of Asia. The ap-
artheid policy of Bantustans was a modern version. In recent
years, however, the aspirations and historical claims of indige-
nous peoples have been recognized through the transformation
of reserves into self-governing areas, particularly in Canada and
the Philippines. The extent, however, to which they can opt out
of national laws, which may be necessary for the preservation of
their political and cultural practices, is variable.
Local government institutions. Another way to devolve power
is through local government institutions or forms of decentral-
ization. These differ from federations and autonomy in that they
do not have a specific constitutional status or constitutional gua-
rantees. Local government can be an effective way to give cer-
tain powers to a group since the geographical scale of local
government is small and the population is likely to be homogeneous.
The developments regarding federalism and autonomy out-
lined above greatly increase the possibilities of devising flexible
arrangements for forms of self-government to suit widely varying
circumstances and contingencies. (In this section autonomy is
frequently used in its generic sense to include all forms of spa-
tial arrangements for self-government.) Added to these broad
categories of self-government are variations in arrangements
within each category, such as the division of powers between diffe-
rent layers and structures of government, the relationship bet-
ween these structures at different levels, and the distribution of
financial and other resources. While this flexibility is important
in the negotiation process and facilitates compromises, there is
a danger that it may lead to complex arrangements and systems,
leading to a lack of cohesion and governability. Federal or auto-
nomy arrangements are inherently hard to operate, and the em-
broidery on classical systems that tough negotiations may lead to
can undermine long-term prospects of settlement by their sheer
157
Autonomy
weight or complexity (a good example of this experience are the

regional arrangements in Kenya’s independence Constitution,
and more recently of Papua New Guinea’s system of provincial
government established in 1976).
4.2.2 International regional organizations
A new but uneven element in the spatial organization of gov-
ernment is the emergence of international regional organizations in
which national sovereignty has been traded for a share in the
participation and decision-making in these organizations. Com-
mon policies over larger and larger matters are determined by
such organizations. In this way a measure of control over the
affairs of a national region has been transferred from national to
supranational authority. This diminution of national sovereign-
ty opens up possibilities of new arrangements between the state
and its regions. The benefits work both ways: the state feels less
threatened by regions in a multi-layered structure of policy-mak-
ing and administration; and the region becomes more willing to
accept national sovereignty, which may be the key to its partici-
pation in the wider arrangements.
This trend is most developed in the European Union, where
it is helping to moderate tensions between states and border re-
gions previously intent on secession. For example, it has facili-
tated the interesting spatial arrangements for policy, adminis-
tration and consultation in the two parts of Ireland, each under
separate sovereignty, which underlie the new peace proposals
(see Northern Ireland Case Study). Attempts to provide for uni-
fied Nordic arrangements for the Saami people, including a sub-
stantial element of autonomy, regardless of the sovereignty they
live under, are another instance of similar kind.
4.2.3 Examples of federalism and autonomy
While, traditionally, federalism has not been used to deal with
ethnic issues, there are nevertheless several examples of how
federal and autonomy devices have helped to mitigate or even
solve internal conflicts or have provided a basis for the peaceful
co-existence of diverse communities. A particularly successful
example of autonomy is Åland, where a predominantly Swedish-
speaking population under Finnish sovereignty has enjoyed a
large measure of cultural and political autonomy since 1921. Au-
tonomy has diffused ethnic tensions between Italian-and Ger-
man-speaking people in South Tyrol. Many of India’s ethnic de-
mands have been dealt with in this way, starting with the re-
organization of states along linguistic lines in 1956, and the subse-
158

quent divisions of the former Punjab and Bombay and the ac-
commodation of Assam, Nagaland, and Mizoland as states.
The transition to democracy in Spain after the overthrow of
Franco was greatly facilitated by the provision in the 1978 Con-
stitution for the establishment of “autonomous communities”.
By giving “historic” communities, like the Basque and Catalans,
a large measure of self-government, pressures for secession were
reduced and terrorist activities consequently declined. In the
Philippines, Muslim secessionist activity in Mindanao, lasting for
a quarter of a century, has been abated due to an agreement in
1996 between the Moro National Liberation Front and the gov-
ernment. Under this agreement a council will be established
under the chair of the leader of the Liberation Front to super-
vise development of 14 provinces in southern Mindanao island
(regarded by it as traditional Muslim homelands), followed by a
plebiscite and regional autonomy three years later. There are
many lesser-known examples from the South Pacific where auto-
nomy helped to bring disputes to some settlement (prominent-
ly the 1975 differences between Papua New Guinea and Bou-
gainville and the francophone claims in Vanuatu).
A novel form of autonomy is represented by the arrangements
under which Hong Kong returned to Chinese sovereignty in July
1997 (which Deng Xiaoping claimed had the potential to solve
many world problems). Its novelty lies in the arrangements for
the coexistence of very different, and in many respects opposed,
systems of economy and politics within one sovereign state.
Britain was prepared to return Hong Kong to China only on the
basis of promises of Hong Kong’s autonomy as set out in the
1984 Sino-British Joint Declaration. Macau’s return to China in
1999 is based on similar principles.
More importantly, China is pursuing reunification of Taiwan
with the mainland on the same policy of “One Country, Two
Systems”. It is likely that when serious negotiations between the
two sides get under way, the principal issue will be the scope and
modality of Taiwan’s autonomy. Currently there are attempts to
solve internal conflicts through autonomy arrangements, such
as Sri Lanka-Tamils; Indonesia-East Timor; the Sudan-Southern
Sudan; Georgia-Abkazia; and although not a conflict situation,
the future relationship between the US and Puerto Rico.
Autonomy is often claimed by the disaffected group: white
settlers and minority tribes in Kenya; kingdoms in Uganda;
islands in Papua New Guinea, Tamils in Sri Lanka and so on. But
sometimes the government offers autonomy as a way to fend off
159
Autonomy
secession or bring armed struggle to an end, as in the Philip-

pines for Mindanao, north-east India, Palestine, Spain, or belat-
edly in Sri Lanka. The Indian National Congress, for example,
was prepared to countenance a high degree of autonomy if the
Muslim League accepted a united India; but once partition was
declared by the British, it argued successfully for a strong central
government, with weak states.
4.2.4 The legal basis for autonomy
Despite the increasing use of autonomy solutions, the legal
bases for autonomy remain unclear. There are two principle
bases for autonomy:
Minority rights. In recent years, the United Nations has shown
more interest in minority rights. It has adopted a Declaration on
the Rights of Minorities which goes further than Article 27 of the
International Covenant of Civil and Political Rights in protect-
ing minority rights (see “Human Rights Instruments” section
4.6.3). In addition, the UN Human Rights Committee has adopted
some interpretations of Article 27 that recognize that a measure
of autonomy may be necessary for the protection of cultural
rights of minorities. Efforts have also been made by that committee
and others to interpret the right to self-determination to mean,
where relevant, “internal autonomy” rather than secession. The
approach of the OSCE (in its various declarations as well as in
practice) favours autonomy regimes, and its rules for the
recognition of breakaway republics of Yugoslavia included
adequate minority protection of this kind. The new Convention
Concerning Indigenous and Tribal Peoples in Independent Countries
(1991) and the draft declaration of the rights of indigenous peo-
ples have endorsed autonomy regimes.
Self-determination. In itself a difficult and controversial con-
cept, self-determination is increasingly being analysed in terms
of the internal, democratic organization of a state rather than in
terms of secession or independence. The UN General Assembly
resolved many years ago that autonomy is a manifestation of self-
determination. The increased involvement of the UN and other
international organizations in the settlement of internal con-
flicts has helped to further develop the concept of self-determi-
nation as implying autonomy in appropriate circumstances.
Such a view of self-determination has some support in certain
national constitutions, but it is no more than a trend at this
stage. Often constitutional provisions for autonomy are adopted
during periods of social and political transformation, when an
160

autocratic regime is overthrown (when there is considerable

legitimacy for autonomy) or a crisis is reached in minority-major-
ity conflicts, or there is intense international pressure (in which
case legitimacy is often granted rather grudgingly). Propelled by
these factors, a number of constitutions now recognize some en-
titlement to self-government, such as the Philippines (in relation
to two provinces, one for indigenous people and the other for a
religious minority); Spain (which guarantees autonomy to three
regions and invites others to negotiate with the centre for auto-
nomy); Papua New Guinea (which authorizes provinces to nego-
tiate with the central government for substantial devolution of
power); Fiji (which recognizes the right of indigenous people to
their own administration at the local level); and recently Ethio-
pia (which gives its “nations, nationalities, and peoples” the
right to seek wide ranging powers as states within a federation
and guarantees to them even the right to secession). The
Chinese Constitution entrenches the rights of ethnic minorities
to substantial self-government, although in practice the domi-
nance of the Communist Party negates their autonomy. In other
instances the constitution authorizes, but does not require, the
setting up of autonomous areas. On the other hand, it should
also be noted that some constitutions prohibit or restrict the
scope of autonomy by requiring that the state be “unitary”, or
some similar expression; such a provision has retarded the
acceptance or the implementation of meaningful devolution in
countries such as Sri Lanka, Papua New Guinea and China.
The presence or absence of an entitlement in either interna-
tional or national law to autonomy, as well as provisions limiting
its scope, can play an important role in the conduct of negotia-
tions and the relative bargaining position of parties, especially
when there is international or third-party mediation.
4.2.5 The advantages of federalism and autonomy
solutions
There are several advantages to federalism and autonomy me-
chanisms:
It ensures minorities a measure of state power. Minorities can
enjoy executive, legislative and fiscal powers, not merely parlia-
mentary representation with little prospect of a share in policy-
making or distribution of resources.
It offers minorities better prospects of preserving their cul-
ture. Enabling minorities to make important decisions for them-
selves almost always offers better prospects for their own cultural
preservation.
161
Autonomy
It may forestall or terminate demands for secession. The flex-

ibility of the federal device in terms of the division of powers and
the structure of institutions enables various kinds of accommo-
dations to be made; it is more hospitable to compromise than
other kinds of minority protection.
It can increase the political integration of ethnic groups. Au-
tonomy devolves power to the state, which increases opportuni-
ties for people to compete in the political system; this political
competition can, in turn, accentuate differences within groups,
which can lead to the fragmentation of previously monolithic
ethnic parties. The proliferation of parties enables coalitions of
similarly situated ethnic parties (i.e., in Nigeria and India) across
the state. Local problems that might otherwise have created a
national crisis are dealt with by the locality itself. Territorial
asymmetrical arrangements encourage demands for similar
arrangements by other groups (India, Nigeria, and Papua New
Guinea). The proliferation of these arrangements increases the
prospects of national unity as it diffuses state power and enables
central authorities to balance regional with national interests.
It can contribute to constitutionalism. Autonomy arrange-
ments, and the mechanisms to enforce them, emphasize the rule
of law, the separation of powers, and the role of independent
institutions. The institutionalization of autonomy, particularly
procedures governing the relationship between the centre and the
region, must be based on discussions, mutual respect and
compromise, thereby reinforcing and strengthening these qualities.
Autonomy enables ethnic problems to be solved without “en-
trenching” ethnicity, since its focus is on defining a region as a
geographic entity and not as an ethnic entity. However, some
forms of autonomy may indeed entrench ethnicity, as in the case
of reservations where the cultural dimensions and the need to
preserve the identity of the group may serve to sharpen bound-
aries against outsiders. An important qualification on the auto-
nomy device is that it can operate only when a minority is con-
centrated geographically and is a majority in that area. One solu-
tion to the lack of geographical concentration is a kind of cor-
porate federalism which can take various forms – the millet sys-
tem used in the Ottoman Empire, Fijian system of native admin-
istration, Indian system of personal laws, consociationalism in
Cyprus at the time of independence and now in Belgium. As-
pects of this solution are discussed in sections 4.1 of this hand-
book.
162

Even if autonomy solutions do not last, an end to hostilities

provides breathing space. It is also important to recognize that
even when agreement is reached on autonomy, the end of ten-
sions or hostilities does not mean that tensions will not resur-
face, or that one party or the other will not subsequently repu-
diate or redefine the autonomy arrangements. This happened
in many parts of Africa where some measure of regional auton-
omy was seen as a pre-condition of independence (as in Ugan-
da, Kenya and Ghana). There are many other examples where
federal or autonomy arrangements did not last (as in the Sudan,
Eritrea and de facto in Kashmir).
However, even where the arrangements do not last or ten-
sions re-emerge, the end of hostilities provides a breathing space,
helps to define issues and points of difference, and may even
provide the framework for negotiations in the future. The last
point can be important since a frequent problem in many eth-
nic conflicts is finding a framework, and even sometimes parties,
for negotiations (as in Sri Lanka, Punjab or Kashmir; India has
managed to defuse some of its ethnic problems by providing for
elections to provincial or assemblies in the “hill areas” before
the start of negotiations). The party that wins also claims a man-
date to negotiate (as with the 1996 elections in Kashmir).
Sometimes merely the commitment to consider autonomy can
serve to defuse tensions, as in South Africa where the agreement
to consider a “white homeland” secured the participation of
hard-line Afrikaners to the interim constitution.
4.2.6 Resistance to federalism and autonomy
Despite these obvious advantages, there has been resistance
to the adoption of autonomy in cases of internal, particularly
ethnic, conflicts. It involves the restructuring of the state and re-
quires the redistribution of its resources, which upsets vested in-
terests. Consequences can include:
Majority leaders fear losing electoral support. The leaders of
the majority community may be reluctant to concede autonomy,
fearing the loss of electoral support among their own community
(a problem that has bedevilled Sri Lanka). Majority leaders,
even if well disposed to autonomy, may not have the confidence
that they would be able to implement the autonomy agreement,
especially if it requires amendment of the constitution, a refer-
endum or even merely fresh legislation.
Fears that autonomy will be a spring board to secession. This
is seen to be an especially serious problem when the group
163
Autonomy
demanding autonomy is related, and contiguous, to a neigh-

bouring kin state. Autonomy granted to a minority in its “home-
land” may in turn create new minorities (as with Muslims in
northeast Sri Lanka which the Tamil Tigers want under their
control, or Christians in Mindanao, or the fear that Malaysian
Borneo states may get too close to Indonesia). This may trigger
demands for autonomy by the “new minorities” and lead to fur-
ther fragmentation of the state. There may also be anxiety that
the fundamental values of the state may be compromised by the
recognition through autonomy of different cultural or religious
values. There may also be a concern with economic and admin-
istrative efficiency that is frequently seen to be jeopardized by
complex autonomy arrangements.
Unpredictability of its consequences. The adoption of the federal
device changes the context of ethnic relations. Territorial or
corporate federal arrangements are not purely instrumental.
Merely by providing a framework for inter-ethnic relations, they
affect and shape these relations. They may fashion new forms of
identity or reinforce old identities. They may enhance or decrease
the capacity of particular groups to extract resources from the
state. They may provide new forms of contention and dispute.
May encourage other communities to mobilize for autonomy.
Connected with the preceding point is the fear that if autonomy
can be justified on ethnic grounds, the rules justifying the grant-
ing of autonomy (identity, a sense of discrimination/injustice)
may encourage the mobilization of other communities along
ethnic lines, indeed to manufacture “ethnic communities”.
Autonomy arrangements for ethnic coexistence have not wor-
ked. The reluctance towards autonomy may be reinforced by a
sense that autonomy arrangements for the purposes of ethnic
coexistence have not worked. There are certainly many exam-
ples of failure, abandonment of autonomy, and attempted and
even successful secession on the back of autonomy (as was de-
monstrated by the break-up of the former Yugoslavia). Even if
such drastic consequences are not envisaged, there may be re-
luctance on the basis that the relevant political culture is alien to
habits of consultation and compromise necessary for success.
4.2.7 Structuring autonomy arrangements
All of these are legitimate concerns. But they do not dictate
the conclusion that autonomy should not be used to deal with
ethnic conflict. What is necessary is to structure autonomy arrange-
ments so as to increase the advantages and minimize the dis-
164

advantages of autonomy. Below we outline some of the consid-

erations relevant to the design of autonomy. But before that, we
make three preliminary points. First, the concept of “success” of
autonomy is itself problematic, since there is no clear consensus
on the criteria. Second, it is difficult to isolate general factors
that affect the operation of autonomy (e.g., a downturn in the
economy) from factors that are specific to it. Third, autonomy is
a process and there are inevitably changes in the context in which
it operates, even in the original aims of autonomy. Options for
structuring autonomy arrangements include:
Establish autonomy once and for all or through a phased, ne-
gotiating process. A choice has to be made between agreeing at
one go on all the details of the autonomy system or to establish
them through a series of phased negotiations. A middle ground
is one where broad principles for autonomy are specified. Each
option has its advantages and disadvantages and what is an opti-
mum decision depends on the circumstances of the case. It is
desirable to agree on the fundamental principles at least to start
with. Experience in several countries has shown that matters left
for future settlement are hard to negotiate successfully as imme-
diate pressures, and a sense of urgency, abate. The opponents of
autonomy have time to regroup. On the other hand, agreements
made in rush without time for proper evaluation of alternatives
may contain flaws.
In this context, some mechanism should be set in place to en-
sure that autonomy arrangements are implemented. Courts can
play a role in certifying that the necessary arrangements have
been legislated and implemented. Special political or admini-
strative bodies can be set up to oversee the implementation process.
Sometimes international supervision or conditionalities can be
provided to ensure implementation (as with the Dayton Accord
or the Paris Cambodian Accord).
The importance of the procedure. Autonomy established
without adequate consultations tends to be controversial and
lacking legitimacy. Many systems of autonomy imposed as part
of the constitutional settlement at independence were dismantled
soon afterwards at the instigation of the majority community.
Autonomy may also affect relations in the relevant region and
may be internally opposed by significant groups. In principle it
is desirable that there should be wide consultations and refer-
endums on autonomy proposals. Several national constitutions
which provide for autonomy require that they be approved in a
referendum (e.g., Spain, Ethiopia, and in an indirect form, Papua
165
Autonomy
New Guinea). Occasionally there is a requirement for constit-

uent assemblies, which provide the mandate for negotiations.
While all these methods legitimize autonomy arrangements,
there is also the danger that in a nation-wide referendum the
proposal would be defeated if the majority community is op-
posed. Sometimes it is necessary to strike a fine balance between
decisions by political leaders and the people.
Degree of entrenchment. Whatever method is used to arrive
at decisions about autonomy, it is important that there should
be firm legal guarantees for it. In particular it should not be pos-
sible for central authorities to unilaterally change the rules re-
garding autonomy. When the central government can change
the rules on its own, the incentives for it to consult with regions
diminish and mechanisms for developing consensus do not ope-
rate well.
Methods of dispute settlement. In principle the methods of
dispute settlement should combine efforts first at consultation
and mediation, and if that fails, judicial intervention. If the
methods of settlement are impartial and accepted as such by
both parties, it is possible to operate on the basis of broad prin-
ciples (as has been possible in Spain); otherwise there would be
pressures towards specification of details tending towards a rigid
structure.
Consultative mechanisms. It is useful to provide for mecha-
nisms for consultation between the centre and region/s, in part
to avoid litigation, but also in recognition of the dynamics of
autonomy. However serious an effort is made to separate off the
areas of responsibilities between the centre and the region,
there is likely to be some overlap as well as the need for co-
ordination.
Problems with asymmetry. A particular problem with asym-
metry is that all regions aspire to the completeness of powers
that the best placed region has, while that region wants to keep
its pre-eminence, as is evident from the experiences of Bougain-
ville, Quebec, the Basque region and Catalonia. This can pro-
duce resentment against the privileged region in other parts of
the country and put in some jeopardy its status (as with main-
land resentment at the special powers of Zanzibar).
Protection of rights. Another problem with asymmetrical au-
tonomy, especially that based on cultural differences, is that the
community or region may be allowed to opt out of standard
166

human rights provisions. This is most dramatically manifested in

the “notwithstanding” clause of the Canada Charter of Human
Rights under which a province can pass legislation in contra-
vention of the Charter by making an express declaration to that
effect – a concession at the instance of Quebec. Another exam-
ple comes from the regime of personal laws in India where Mus-
lim divorced women are subject to sharia for the purpose of
maintenance from their previous husband instead of the more
favourable provisions under the national laws. Problems of dif-
ferential treatment arise even more extensively in regimes for in-
digenous peoples.
These provisions can also affect the rights of citizens outside
the community. They can be subject to restrictions that do not
apply to “locals” of the region (with respect to residence or em-
ployment, for example). New minorities that result from the
conferring of autonomy on a region may need protection
against victimization. The interests of the new minority can be
secured through a further tier, that of local government (where
they constitute a majority), or through special responsibilities of
the central authorities.
Provisions recognizing differential values undermine the basic
rights of individuals or groups within the community and cause
resentment among the rest of the population. Thus autonomy
can become a source of conflict rather than a solution to it. If
too much importance is placed on accommodating differences
and too little attention is given to building on those traditions,
values and aspirations which a people share, it can lead to further
fragmentation and weaken the sense of solidarity. While
acknowledging cultural differences and sensitivities, it is impor-
tant to emphasize national values and ensure the protection of
human rights to all persons.

de Villers, Bertus. ed. 1994. Evaluating Federal Systems.
Dordrecht: Martinus Nijhoff.
Ghai, Yash. 1998. “Decentralisation and the Accommodation
of Ethnicity”. In Crawford Young. ed. Ethnicity and Public
Policies. London: Macmillan.
Hannum, Hurst. ed. 1993. Documents on Autonomy and
Minority Rights. Dordrecht: Martinus Nijhoff.
Hannum, Hurst. 1996. Autonomy, Sovereignty, and Self-
Determination: The Accommodation of Conflicting Rights.
Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press.
167
The Structure of the
Autonomy
Lapidoth, Ruth. 1996. Autonomy: Flexible Solutions to Ethnic

Conflicts. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace.
168
Anthony J. Regan
Case Study: Bougainville
BOUGAINVILLE
The almost 10-year old ethno-nationalist conflict in Bougainville – the most seri-
ous conflict in the Pacific island states in the 1990s – made significant progress
towards peace in 1997–1998. The Bougainville conflict has had international reper-
cussions, affecting Papua New Guinea’s relations with its neighbours, especially the
Solomon Islands and Australia, and involving the region in several attempts at con-
flict resolution. At the heart of the conflict lies the demand for independence made
by the Bougainville Revolutionary Army (BRA), a demand opposed by Papua New
Guinea and by many Bougainvilleans, including “resistance forces” armed by the
government.
Background
Independent from Australian colonial control since 1975, Papua New Guinea
(PNG) has a population of about four million people, occupying the eastern half of
the island of New Guinea and many smaller islands. The province of Bougainville
(population about 170,000) is the most distant from the mainland capital of Port
Moresby, about 1,000 km to the east. Before the conflict, Bougainville’s substantial
initial contribution to the national economy was disproportionate to its small size,
due to the enormous copper, gold and silver mine at Panguna on the main island
which was operated by Bougainville Copper Ltd. (BCL) from 1972 until 1989.
Papua New Guinea is a country of immense ethnic diversity (it has more than 800
distinct languages, to cite just one example). Bougainville fits this pattern: it has 19
main languages and a population divided into numerous small semi-traditional soci-
eties. Bougainvilleans share a strong sense of a separate ethnic identity based on dis-
tinctive black skin colour and traditional affinities with the neighbouring Solomon
Islands rather than with the rest of Papua New Guinea. Widely shared grievances
about both the imposition of colonial boundaries and alleged colonial neglect have
contributed to the sense of separate identity.
From the mid-1960s, a new grievance energized the emerging Bougainvillean
identity: the imposition of the Panguna mine for the economic benefit of PNG
despite detrimental effects on the Bougainville environment and people, and with
Bougainville
limited fiscal benefits for the province. Distinct identity and grievances about the
mine were factors in the attempted secession of Bougainville in 1975–1976. This was
resolved peacefully by national government concessions, which gave Bougainville an
effective and relatively autonomous provincial government; this was suspended,
however, in 1990.
Rapid economic and social change resulted in major differences in regional
economies within Bougainville, and significant economic inequality. Limited sec-
ondary education and employment opportunities produced a large pool of under-
educated, under-employed and resentful youth. Many Bougainvilleans blamed the
171
new economic inequalities on the mine operator, BCL, and the influx of non-Bou-
gainvilleans attracted by employment with the mine and on plantations. Outsiders
were also blamed for escalating social tensions and law and order problems. These
tensions contributed to the eruption of secessionist conflict in 1988–1989.
Conflict Analysis
In 1988, an inter-generational dispute among landowners around the mine led to
attacks on BCL property by young men from local landowner groups led by Francis
Ona. They demanded the closure of the mine and massive compensation. Poorly
judged and ill-disciplined responses by police and, later, the Papua New Guinea
Defence Force (PNGDF), resulted in deaths and injuries for many Bougainvilleans
and provoked demands for Bougainville independence. As a result, Ona’s
Bougainville Revolutionary Army (BRA) was able to transform the localized conflict
into a wider ethnic uprising. Ona’s support came from under-employed youth in
many parts of Bougainville.
As the situation slipped out of control, the mine was forced to close in May 1989.
All government authority collapsed. A cease-fire and withdrawal of the PNGDF was
negotiated, but instead of disarming and negotiating as agreed, the BRA tried to
take control. They made a unilateral declaration of independence in May 1990 and
appointed the Bougainville Interim Government (BIG), which included some for-
mer provincial government figures.
Once the security forces left, the focus of the BRA groups became their perceived
enemies within Bougainville. The BRA was a loose coalition of semi-independent
groups of mainly young men, each group based in its own semi-traditional society,
often with differing perceptions of the conflict. Bougainvilleans with wealth, educa-
tion or status, and many non-Bougainvilleans were harassed, imprisoned, tortured
or murdered. Ona developed and propounded an ideology based in part on a
return to traditional society and rejection of outside influences.
Armed opposition to the BRA emerged in Buka, north of the main island of
Bougainville. Local leaders there requested national government intervention, and
after some violent clashes with the BRA late in 1990, government forces took con-
trol of Buka. At the invitation of local leaders, government forces returned relative-
Bougainville
ly peacefully to the north and south-west of the main island in 1991–1992. New local
governments (“interim authorities”) drawing mainly on traditional leadership were
also established in those areas.
Armed opponents of the BRA and surrendering BRA elements formed “resis-
tance forces” which received material support from the PNGDF and gave it active
support. Bougainville became an increasingly violent place as the BRA, resistance
forces, armed criminal groups and – on occasion – PNGDF elements became em-
broiled in conflict over mainly localized issues, often resulting in spirals of revenge
killings.
172
Following national elections in mid-1992, a new PNG government encouraged

military initiatives, most notably efforts to re-take the area around the provincial
capital and the Panguna mine. Violence elsewhere was escalating as the BRA
sought to consolidate its position in areas to which the PNGDF had returned,
and resistance groups were also operating. Some Bougainvillean leaders and local
associations (especially women’s organizations) became increasingly aware of
the need to bridge the gaps among themselves if there was to be progress to
peace.
Finally in September 1994, the PNG Prime Minister established negotiations
in the Solomon Islands. Agreement was reached on a cease-fire, and on the hold-
ing of a peace conference, with security to be provided by a South Pacific regio-
nal peace-keeping force. When, for some reason, the senior BIG/BRA leaders
did not attend the peace conference, the resulting popular frustration led to the
emergence of a strong moderate movement in much of the area of BRA core
support in central Bougainville. Within weeks the moderates proposed an inter-
im provincial government to act as an umbrella for “moderate” groups (those
opposed to secession) and as a bridge to the BIG/BRA, and to negotiate a new
political status for Bougainville. The new government – the Bougainville Tran-
sitional Government (BTG) – was established in April 1995.
Some in the national government were suspicious of the BTG, afraid it was a
“Trojan horse” for the BRA. Building understandings with the BIG/BRA leaders
was slow, and the national government had little patience. It did agree to meet-
ings between the BIG/BRA and the BTG in Australia, but became increasingly
suspicious that the two groups were becoming too close. In January 1996, as
BIG/BRA leaders returned from the talks in Australia, they were attacked by
PNGDF troops. The BRA retaliated, and the national government lifted the cease-
fire. Both sides now committed themselves to force. The PNGDF launched major
military operations against the BRA in mid-1996. Their failure, and subsequent
massacres and hostage taking of security personnel, underlined the inability of
the security forces to defeat the BRA. Desperate for clear progress towards resolving
the conflict prior to impending national elections, in January 1997 the government
engaged mercenaries who began to train with the PNGDF Special Forces Unit,
intending to crush the BRA and capture the Panguna mine site. But in a surprise
Bougainville
move, the PNGDF commander announced the refusal of his forces to work with
the mercenaries. They were ejected from the country and the Prime Minister
and two key ministers were forced to stand down during a judicial inquiry.
The Conflict Management Process
Interest groups and the issues that divide
The wide range of groups with interests in the conflict or its outcomes include:
the BIG/BRA; the BTG; the resistance forces; other less organized Bougainvillean
interests; the national government; and other governments in the region.
173
The key issues include: the future political status of Bougainville and the method
(and timetable) to decide it; interim arrangements for the governing of Bou-
gainville in the period before the political status issue is determined; the presence
of PNG security forces in Bougainville; arrangements for the disarming of the BRA
and the resistance forces and restoration of civilian law; the future development of
Bougainville; and the possible re-opening of the Panguna mine.
In Bougainville, three main parties are involved directly in the peace process, a
range of interests and localized groups existing within each of them. The BRA and
the BIG are concentrated in central and south Bougainville, but with some elements
in most parts of the main island of Bougainville. The “hard-line” leadership under
Ona is not prepared to negotiate anything other than independence. But during
1997, war-weariness and dissatisfaction with Ona’s radical prescription for future
development of Bougainville have enabled a relatively moderate leadership to
emerge, willing to engage in an open-ended peace process involving other
Bougainvillean groups and the national government.
With members from all parts of Bougainville, the BTG provides a focus for Bou-
gainvillean leadership prepared to negotiate special political status for Bougainville
within PNG. They include both those with sympathy for the BRA’s aspiration for
independence but who believe a compromise is needed to end the suffering of ordi-
nary people, and those who are vehemently opposed to the BRA. In general,
though, the BTG acts as a bridge between the national government and the
BIG/BRA. As such, it tends to be suspected by both sides. The resistance forces con-
stitute a third major group. While represented in the BTG, they have quite distinct
structures and interests, in large part related to their combat roles, control of
weapons and links to the PNGDF. A complex web of other Bougainvillean interests
exists, including armed criminal groups; traditional leaders; women’s organizations;
churches; secular NGOs; and Bougainvilleans living elsewhere.
At the national government level, numerous ministers and government agencies
have roles in the conflict, and conflicting agendas abound. At the international
level, Australia has strong political and economic links with PNG, including support
to the PNGDF during the conflict, while in the Solomon Islands, there is consider-
able sympathy for the cause of Bougainville independence.
Bougainville
Through most of the conflict, few democratic political institutions have functio-
ned. Bougainville has elected national parliament members in the 1992 and 1997
elections, but they have all been based in the national capital, and have had limited
roles in local politics. Provincial and local governments ceased operating in 1990.
Since then, traditional leaders have provided local-level government in both gov-
ernment-controlled and BRA-controlled areas. They have strong legitimacy, reflect-
ing a widespread popular concern for strengthening traditional authority as a means
of re-establishing social control. The BTG comprises mainly members elected
indirectly by such local government bodies.
174
Peace-making initiatives
Several sets of negotiations between the national government and the BRA
occurred but failed between 1988 and 1994. These efforts failed for a number of rea-
sons: (a) the lack of trust between the main parties resulted in unrealistic as-
sumptions; (b) each side tended to be confident of ultimate success, so contacts
between them were often directed at seeking short- to medium-term advantage
rather than conflict resolution; (c) differences in understanding about what actu-
ally was agreed prevented implementation of some agreements; (d) divisions within
particular parties were also a factor, with concessions made by moderate negotiators
being subsequently disowned by more hard-line groups.
But after the ejection of the mercenaries and the resignation of the prime
minister in March 1997, conditions became conducive to progress. First, more than
eight years of conflict had created deep war-weariness and leaders of all main groups
were feeling popular pressure for progress towards peace. Second, the actions of the
PNGDF in ejecting the mercenaries created more room on all sides for moderate
leadership. Third, all parties were conscious of a military stalemate. Fourth, at the
national level, the new government were willing to examine moderate alternatives.
Fifth, New Zealand emerged as an independent facilitator. Sixth, a newly elected
Solomon Islands government favoured resolution of the conflict.
From April 1997, the BTG and BRA/BIG started making direct contact for the
first time since 1995. The New Zealand government hosted talks at Burnham mili-
tary barracks outside Christchurch on New Zealand’s south island in July, involving
about 70 persons from all main groups. Francis Ona was absent, but key BRA/BIG
leaders in attendance used his absence to build a coalition of “moderate” interests.
The resulting Burnham Declaration committed the Bougainvillean leadership to
peaceful resolution of the conflict. Four developments at Burnham were crucial.
The first was the development of trust and understanding among the divided
Bougainville leadership. Second, New Zealand played a key role as neutral faci-
litator. Third, the timing of the Burnham meeting was fortuitous in building
momentum for support for a negotiated settlement among the diverse elements of
the PNG government. Fourth, the focus of the meeting was on process rather than
Bougainville
outcomes, establishing a process for achieving peace while putting outcomes on the
main divisive issues to one side. In past negotiations, efforts to address the key ques-
tions of the long-term political status of Bougainville and the BRA/BIG demand for
immediate withdrawal of the PNG security forces had resulted in impasse. The focus
on process meant that the Burnham Declaration was deliberately vague on the divi-
sive issues.
The Burnham meeting agreed that Bougainvillean delegations should soon meet
with PNG officials to plan a major leaders meeting. The meeting with officials was
held in October 1997, again at Burnham. It involved over 80 Bougainvilleans, about
175
20 PNG representatives, and six observers from the Solomon Islands government,
including a cabinet minister who ultimately chaired the meetings. Leaders of most
BRA “companies” and resistance forces elements attended. Remarkable progress
was made at this “Burnham II” officials meeting. The emphasis continued to be on
process, leaving outcomes on the most contentious issues to one side. However, con-
trary to expectations, a “Burnham Truce” was signed.
The Truce was monitored by a multinational unarmed monitoring group under
New Zealand leadership and was in place by December 1997. New Zealand,
Australia, Vanuatu and Fiji provided the personnel. The truce provided public edu-
cation about the accelerating peace process, while also providing security for orga-
nizing reconciliation ceremonies at the local level, and for organization of the forth-
coming leaders meeting. The dramatic progress was welcomed by almost all sides
except Ona, who consequently became increasingly marginalized.
The leaders meeting was held at Lincoln University in New Zealand in early 1998,
attended by PNG, New Zealand, Australia, Solomon Islands and other Pacific Island
states, and representatives of most Bougainvillean interest groups. The meeting pro-
duced the “Lincoln Agreement on Peace, Security and Development on Bougain-
ville”. The emphasis was still on process, but there was some progress towards agree-
ment on some of the major issues. A permanent cease-fire was agreed. To operate
from May 1998, it was to be monitored by a further regional monitoring group with
involvement of a UN observer mission. An elected “Bougainville Reconciliation
Government” was to be established by the end of 1998. Provision was also made for
withdrawal of the PNGDF, subject to the restoration of civil authority. Disarming of
the BRA and other Bougainville groups was agreed, although no modalities were
provided.
Some implementation of the Lincoln Agreement has occurred, notably with the
cease-fire agreement coming into effect on 1 May, and the Truce Monitoring
Group under New Zealand leadership becoming a Peace Monitoring Group led by
Australia. There has been some progress towards developing civilian policing
arrangements. There has been no progress towards establishing the Bougainville
Reconciliation Government or disarming, in part because Ona has opposed the
cease-fire, and thereby made it difficult for the moderate BIG/BRA leadership to be
Bougainville
seen to make too many concessions prior to the leaders meeting expected in June.
Competition for power has been increasing. Both the BTG and the BIG recognize
that ultimately there will need to be an elected Bougainville government. There are
concerns, however, that it could be difficult to hold full elections without first making
considerable progress on existing divisions and outstanding contentious issues.
Many BIG/BRA leaders tend to favour a referendum on the question of indepen-
dence. But that may cause major problems: campaigning could divide people still
further.
176
Ongoing issues
The peace process has not yet touched upon some significant issues. In parti-
cular, the question of the future development of Bougainville divides participants.
Hard-line BRA elements favour a highly egalitarian society based largely on tradi-
tion. More moderate BRA/BIG leaders support a more open society, as do BTG and
most other Bougainvillean leaders. However, many otherwise “moderate”
Bougainvillean leaders also agree future economic development should be con-
trolled by Bougainvilleans, and that there should be limited freedom of movement
into Bougainville for other PNG citizens.
In general the BRA/BIG opposes any future mining or mineral exploration in
Bougainville. Many Bougainvilleans support that stand. But there are moderate
leaders who privately believe that an independent Bougainville will need mining rev-
enue to develop, and would support re-opening the mine under local control, on
fairer terms to landowners and with far greater environmental protection. Although
new mining, petroleum and gas projects elsewhere have more than made up for the
loss of revenue from Bougainville, there are national politicians keen to see mining
activity renewed there.
Bougainville remains deeply divided, and hard-line BRA elements who are still
outside the process, or future disagreement within the process, could de-rail
progress. Nevertheless, progress in the year to June 1998 has been remarkable. The
provision of the unarmed truce monitors has been of central importance in provid-
ing security for the process, giving participants confidence to continue. The focus
on process rather than outcomes has been crucial in engaging a wide range of lea-
ders in a long-term process where trust can be developed, to enable compromises to
emerge. Future progress will depend on keeping them engaged in the process.
Lessons from the Bougainville Conflict Management Process
Some aspects of the Bougainville conflict management process may be of wider
application.
– First, in a complex divided situation as in Bougainville, while it may be tempting
for a national government embroiled by ethnic conflict to exploit divisions
among its potential opponents, the danger is that those divisions themselves
Bougainville
become a major obstacle to resolution of the conflict. Processes developed by

Bougainvilleans have been crucial foundations for all subsequent progress. This
highlights the importance of the national government permitting room for such
local involvement.
– Second, conditions which have encouraged the emergence of moderate leader-
ship on both sides have been vital.
– Third, Bougainville demonstrates that a military stalemate offers opportunities
for making progress in conflict resolution.
177
– Fourth, changes of government offer opportunities as new leadership seeks to dis-

tance itself from past policies, or seeks to make political capital from progress in
resolving the conflict.
– Fifth, neutral outsiders such as foreign governments can play useful roles in
creating conditions amenable to negotiations.
– Sixth, there are both advantages and problems inherent in a conflict manage-
ment approach that focuses on process rather than outcomes. The obvious advan-
tage is that it creates opportunities for building trust and understanding between
the parties and engaging them in a process, which they may have difficulty walk-
ing away from. The main problem is that at some point the question of outcomes
must be addressed. If this is done too early, tensions between and pressures on
the parties may be so great that the whole process will be aborted. One solution is
to negotiate a process where the key issues are addressed at a later date. In
Bougainville, that might be done by establishing a highly autonomous
Bougainville government in which all Bougainville factions can participate, whilst
postponing a decision on the question of independence.
– Seventh, there may be dangers in pressures for democratization of the conflict
resolution process, through acts of self-determination or establishing of elected
institutions. In situations where parties are deeply divided, such processes and
institutions may themselves exacerbate tensions and conflict.
Bougainville
178
4.3 Executive Type: Presidentialism Ben Reilly

versus Parliamentarism
4.3 Executive Type: Presidentialism versus

Parliamentarism
There are essentially three options for constituting an

executive government: one based on a parliamentary system,
one based on a presidential system, and one based on some
combination of the two (sometimes called semi-
presidentialism). This section analyses the major competing
arguments in favour of and against these three choices.
4.3.1 Parliamentary systems: advantages and disadvantages

4.3.2 Presidentialism: advantages and disadvantages
4.3.3 Semi-presidentialism: advantages and disadvantages
A Menu of Options 3 Constituting an Executive Government

(p. 189)
With the possible exception of Switzerland, every established

democracy in the world today uses either a presidential, parlia-
mentary or semi-presidential system of government. Parliamen-
tary systems are characterized by the legislature being the prin-
cipal arena for both lawmaking and (via majority decisions) for
executive power. Presidential systems are characterized by the
separation of the executive and legislative branches, with execu-
tive authority residing outside the legislature, with the president
and his or her cabinet. The simplest definition of the differences
between the two approaches can thus be summed up by the de-
gree of relative independence of the executive, with pure presi-
dentialism being characterized by executive independence and
pure parliamentarism by the mutual dependence and intertwining
of a state’s legislative and executive capacities.
For the issue of democracy and deep-rooted conflict, how-
ever, the key distinction between parliamentarism and presiden-
tialism focuses on the distinction between, on the one hand, the
range of parties and opinions that can be represented in the
executive under a parliamentary system, in contrast to the un-
avoidably singular nature of authority represented by the office
of the president. Although this comparison is often over-drawn-
179
4.3 Executive Type:
Presidentialism versus
Parliamentarism
– presidential executives can and often do have a range of polit-

ical and ethnic identities represented in the cabinet, while
parliamentary systems are often dominated by a single party
alone – it remains central to the debate concerning the relative
merits of presidentialism, parliamentarism and semi-presiden-
tialism.
As with many institutional choices, the debate over the merits
The debate over the of parliamentary versus presidential approaches is not so much
merits of parliamentary a question of which is best, but rather of the most appropriate
choice for a given society, considering its particular social struc-
versus presidential
ture, political culture and history. It is essential, before any of
approaches is not so the options are examined in any detail, for due consideration to
much a question of be given to the specific factors that need to be addressed in the
which is best, but country. This may include issues such as the need for a strong
government, the degree of trust between the parties, their abil-
rather of the most
ity to set aside their differences in the national interest, the lev-
appropriate choice for els of checks and balances required, the extent of the trauma
a given society, that the society has undergone, the presence of dominant per-
considering its sonalities and their democratic credentials in the political arena,
the need for compromise, the necessity to think long-term as
particular social
well as short-term, the need for flexibility and so on.
structure, political
culture and history. 4.3.1 Parliamentary systems
In practice, the institutional choices made by most new demo-
cracies in the “second wave” of democracy following the World
War Two has favoured parliamentary systems as being the best
choice for fragile or divided new democracies. Much of the
scholarly debate in favour of parliamentarism has focused less
on the desirability of parliamentary government than on the
inherent difficulties of presidentialism. The majority of the
world’s “established” democracies use parliamentary systems,
while a disproportionately large number of democracies which
have experienced authoritarian interludes – especially in Latin
America and Asia – use or have used presidentialism. Because of
this record, many observers have argued that it is parliamen-
tarism itself that has proved to be a positive factor in consoli-
dating democracy. Under this rationale, parliamentary govern-
ment has been identified as having a number of moderating and
inclusion-promoting features that have assisted nascent democ-
racies.
Advantages
The efficacy of a parliament as a mechanism of democratic
governance will be substantially influenced by the composition
180
4.3 Executive Type: Presidentialism

of that parliament in terms of the number of political parties

represented. Therefore, any discussion of the advantages of par-
liamentary systems must bear in mind that it is closely related to
the type of electoral system used in the election of that parlia-
ment; this will determine aspects such as inclusivity, particularly
in relation to ethnic groupings. Such advantages include:
Ability to facilitate the inclusion of all groups within the leg-
islature and the executive. Because cabinets in parliamentary
systems are usually drawn from members of the elected legisla-
ture, parliamentary government enables the inclusion of all
political elements represented in the legislature, including
minorities, in the executive. Cabinets comprising a coalition of
several different parties are a typical feature of many well established
parliamentary democracies. This means that participation in
government is not the preserve of one group alone, but can be
shared amongst many, or all, significant groups.
In societies deeply divided by significant ethnic or other cleav-
ages, this principle of inclusion can be vital. This is why a number
of democratic transitions in recent years (e.g., South Africa) have
featured “grand coalition” or “unity” governments – i.e., exe-
cutives in which all significant political parties are represented
in cabinet and take part in executive decision-making. Such
arrangements are often made mandatory on the basis of primary
electoral support – for example, a constitution may state that all
parties which receive a minimum percentage of the vote should
be included in the grand coalition executive in proportion to
their overall vote share, as in Fiji and transitional South Africa.
Grand coalitions are also common in non-divided democracies
at times of great stress – such as times of economic crisis or when
a country is at war – where “governments of national unity”
bring together major parties from all sides into the cabinet.
Flexibility and capacity to adapt to changing circumstances.
Because parliamentary coalitions can be made and unmade to
suit changing circumstances, and because governments in many
parliamentary systems can change on the floor of the legislature
without recourse to a general election, advocates of parliamen-
tarism point to its flexibility and capacity to adapt to changing
circumstances as a strong benefit. A discredited government can
be dismissed from office by the parliament itself, for example, as
occurred in Ecuador in 1994. In the same way, many parliamen-
tary systems (e.g., the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia and
many others) enable elections to be called at any time, rather
181
4.3 Executive Type:
Parliamentarism
than be subject to the fixed terms common to presidentialism.

“Checks and balances”. By making the executive dependent,
at least in theory, upon the confidence of the legislature, parlia-
mentary systems are said to foster greater accountability on the
part of the government of the day towards the people’s repre-
sentatives. Proponents argue that this means that there is not
only greater public control over the policy-making process, but
also greater transparency in the way decisions are made. However,
such arguments often fail to take account of the degree of party
discipline in many parliaments, where the legislature acts more
as a “rubber stamp” than a check upon the power of the executive.
Relative stability and continuity of new democracies that have
adopted parliamentary systems. Of the many states that became
independent in the three decades following the end of World
War Two, all the countries which could claim to have maintained
a continuously democratic record to the late 1980s were
parliamentary systems. The statistics are illuminating: of the 93
new democracies that gained their independence between 1945
and 1979, all of the 15 countries which remained democratic
throughout the 1980s were parliamentary rather than presiden-
tial systems, including some of the developing world’s most suc-
cessful democracies like India, Botswana, Trinidad and Tobago
and Papua New Guinea. Conversely, all the new presidential de-
mocracies from this period suffered some form of democratic
breakdown. Overall, parliamentary systems have a rate of survi-
val over three times that of presidential systems.
Disadvantages
The major disadvantages of parliamentary systems include:
Tendency towards ponderous or immobile decision-making.
The inclusiveness that typifies grand coalitions can easily turn
into executive deadlocks caused by the inability of the various
parties to agree on a coherent position on issues of disagree-
ment. This was typified by the “immobilism” that affected Fourth
Republic France and that was partly responsible for General de
Gaulle’s assumption of presidential power. Decision-making
deadlock was in part responsible for the breakdown of power
sharing under Cyprus’s 1960 constitution. The latter period of
the National Party’s participation in South Africa’s government
of national unity in 1996 is a more recent example of the poten-
tial for such arrangements to result in deadlock and to then have
the potential to undermine the very unity that they were intended
to stimulate.
182

Lack of accountability and discipline. Critics also argue that

parliamentary systems are inherently less accountable than pre-
sidential ones, as responsibility for decisions is taken by the
collective cabinet rather than a single figure. This is especially
problematic when diverse coalitions form the executive, as it
becomes increasingly difficult for electors to establish who is
responsible for a particular decision and make a retrospective
judgement as to the performance of the government.
Propensity towards weak or fragmented government. Some
parliamentary systems are typified by shifting coalitions of dif-
ferent forces, rather than by disciplined parties. Under such cir-
cumstances, governments are often weak and unstable, leading
to a lack of continuity and direction in public policy.
Survival of new parliamentary democracies may be attribut-
able to other factors. Finally, the successful record of survival of
parliamentary democracies cited above is mitigated by the fact
that almost all the successful cases are former British colonies,
with the majority being small island nations in the Caribbean
and the South Pacific – a concentration which suggests that other
factors apart from parliamentarism may be responsible for their
democratic success.
An alternative critique of parliamentarism sees it as being as
or more conducive to unadulterated majority-rule than even the
purest forms of presidentialism. In reality, many parliamentary
governments, particularly in new democracies, are not com-
prised of inclusive multi-party coalitions but rather by disci-
plined single parties. In divided societies, such parties can rep-
resent predominantly or exclusively one ethnic group. When
placed in a parliamentary system, a 51 per cent majority of the
seats in such cases can result in 100 per cent of the political
power, as there are few or no ameliorating devices to restrain
the power of the executive – hence the term “elective dictator-
ship” associated with some cases of single-party parliamentary
rule. Moreover, and in direct contrast to the separation of powers
that occurs under presidentialism, many parliaments in practice
provide a very weak legislative check on governments because
of the degree of party discipline – which means that a slim
parliamentary majority can win every vote on every issue in the
parliament. In such cases, parliamentary government can lead
to almost complete winner-take-all results.
4.3.2 Presidentialism
Presidentialism has been a popular choice amongst many new
democracies in the last decade. In fact, almost all the new demo-
183
4.3 Executive Type:
Parliamentarism
cracies in Asia, Eastern Europe and Latin America in this period

have chosen presidential systems as the basis of their new de-
mocracy. While the influence of the United States, the world’s
best known presidential system, is probably partly responsible
for this trend, recent experience has also highlighted a number
of advantages of presidentialism.
Advantages
A directly elected president is identifiable and accountable to
voters to a high degree. The office of the president can be held
directly accountable for decisions taken because, in contrast to
parliamentary systems, the chief executive is directly chosen by
popular vote. It is thus easier for the electorate to reward or
retrospectively punish a president (by voting him or her out of
office) than is the case with parliamentary systems.
Ability of a president to act as a unifying national figure, stan-
ding above the fray of sectarian disputes. A president enjoying
broad public support can represent the nation to itself, becom-
ing a symbol of moderation of the “middle ground” between
rival political groupings. To play this role, however, it is essential
that the rules used to elect the president are tailored so as to
achieve this type of broad support, rather than enabling one
ethnic or regional group to dominate (see section 4.4 on
“Electoral Systems for Divided Societies” for further details).
Higher degree of choice. The fact that presidential systems ty-
pically give voters a dual choice – one vote for the president and
one vote for the legislature – means that voters are usually pre-
sented with a considerably higher degree of choice under presi-
dential systems.
Stability of the office and continuity in terms of public policy.
Unlike parliamentary governments, which can shift and change
completely without recourse to the electorate, the president and
his or her administration normally remains relatively constant.
In many presidential systems, the terms of office are rigidly
fixed, which can give greater stability in office and predictability
in policy-making than some parliamentary alternatives. This
leads, in theory at least, to more efficient and decisive governance,
making it attractive for those cases where governments change
frequently because of weak parties or shifting parliamentary
coalitions, or where hard political decisions, such as contentious
economic reforms, need to be taken.
Disadvantages
Presidency captured by one political or ethnic group. The
major disadvantage of presidentialism for divided societies is the
184

propensity of the office to be captured by one political or ethnic

group. This can create particular difficulties for multi-ethnic so-
cieties. In such situations – which are common in societies at-
tempting to make a transition to democracy from a period of
deep-rooted conflict – the office of the president can become a
highly majoritarian device, ensuring almost complete political
power with often a limited plurality of the total vote. This is par-
ticularly the case where there are two or three main groups all
struggling for power. In such a case, the president can easily be
perceived as the representative of one group only, and conse-
quently has limited incentive to appeal to the needs and votes of
these other groups. Under such a scenario, the office of the pre-
sident can become a symbol of ethnic domination or subjuga-
tion: exactly the type of in-group/out-group symbolism that
deeply divided societies need to avoid at all costs.
No real checks on the executive. This becomes even more
true when there is a direct concordance between the president’s
party and the majority party in parliament. In this case (typified
for many years by Mexico) the parliament has almost no real
checks on the executive and can become more of a glorified
debating chamber than a legitimate house of review. This prob-
lem can be exacerbated by the fact that a president, unlike a par-
liamentary prime minister, can become virtually inviolable dur-
ing his or her term of office, with no mechanism for dismissing
unpopular incumbents. Salvador Allende’s election as president
of Chile in 1970, for example, gave him control of the executive
with only 36 per cent of the vote, and in opposition to the cen-
tre and right-dominated legislature. Some analysts have argued
that Chile’s 1973 military coup can be traced back to the system
that placed an unpopular president in a position of considerable
long-term power. While impeachment of the president by the
legislature is a device built into many presidential systems, it re-
mains the case that the presidency is a much less flexible office
than the major alternatives.
Empirically associated with democratic failure. In marked
contrast to the relative success of parliamentary democracies
established between 1945 and 1979, none of the presidential or
semi-presidential systems established during this period were
continuously democratic. Presidential democracies were also
twice as likely as pure parliamentary democracies to experience
a military coup: in the period 1973–1989, five parliamentary de-
mocracies experienced a military coup compared to 10 presi-
dencies. At the time of writing, there are only four presidential
185
4.3 Executive Type:
Parliamentarism
democracies that have enjoyed 30 years of continuous demo-

cracy: the United States, Costa Rica, Colombia and Venezuela.
The shining example of the US apart, this is not an encouraging
record of democratic stability.
4.3.3 Semi-presidentialism
A final executive type is what we call “semi-presidentialism”;
that is, a situation in which a parliamentary system and prime
minister, with some executive powers, is combined with a presi-
dent who also has executive powers. The ministry is drawn from
and subject to the confidence of the legislature. This is a rela-
tively unusual model – found today in France, Portugal, Finland,
Sri Lanka and one or two other countries – but has nonetheless
been cited by some experts as being the most desirable execu-
tive formulation for fragile nascent democracies.
Advantages
Can combine advantages of presidentialism and parliamen-
tarism. The appeal of the semi-presidential model is its ability to
combine the benefits of a directly elected president with a prime
minister who must command an absolute majority in the legis-
lature. A move to semi-presidentialism has been recommended
as a good “half way house” for some countries that want to com-
bine the benefits of both models.
Mutual consensus requirement. Proponents of semi-presiden-
tialism focus on the capacity of semi-presidentialism to increase
the accountability and “identifiability” of the executive, while
also building in a system of mutual checks and balances and the
need for consensus between the two executive wings of govern-
ment. This mutual consensus requirement can be a particular
advantage for highly divided societies, as it requires a president
to come to an agreement with the legislature on important
issues, and thus to be a force for the “middle ground” rather
than the extremes.
Disadvantages
Propensity for deadlock between and within the executive
arms of government. Because a government’s powers are effec-
tively divided between the prime minister and the president –
for example, foreign affairs powers being the preserve of the
president while the prime minister and the cabinet decide dom-
estic policy – a structural tension exists within the government as
a whole. This can lead to deadlock and immobilism, particular-
ly if, as has occurred in several semi-presidential systems, the
186

prime minister and the president come from opposing political

parties. The benefits of compromise and moderation can degen-
erate into a stand-off. This is especially the case when the divi-
sion of responsibility between the two offices is not always clear
(e.g., foreign policy in the French system), and where the timing
and sequencing of elections between the houses differs.
4.3.4 Conclusion
The competing claims concerning the benefits of parliamen-
tary and presidential systems of government are confusing and
sometimes even contradictory. However, it is possible to glean
several trends and tendencies.
Compromise, moderation and inclusion are keys to democra-
tic stability. Firstly, both sides of the debate argue that their pre-
ferred model is, under particular circumstances, the best option
for inducing compromise, moderation and inclusion. It is clear,
therefore, that these characteristics are seen as being the key to
democratic stability in deeply divided societies.
Size and distribution of competing groups are important fac-
tors in deciding on executive type. Two variables would appear
to be of particular importance when choosing an executive
structure: the size and distribution of the competing groups with-
in society. Presidencies may have difficulty being perceived as
unifying offices where there are three or four roughly equally
sized groups, but likewise parliaments themselves have some-
times been an instrument of majority domination in divided so-
cieties where one group forms an absolute majority of the popu-
lation. When Sri Lanka changed from a parliamentary to a pres-
idential system of government in 1978, it did so partly because
there was seen to be a need for a unifying national figure who
could represent both the dominant (80 per cent of total)
Sinhalese population, but also the minority Tamils. They did
this by designing the electoral system so that Tamils could still
influence the choice of president. In Kenya, by contrast, Pre-
sident Daniel arap Moi is typically perceived as representing his
own Kalinjini tribe against the majority Kikuyu tribe, despite a
distribution requirement which prescribes that to be elected
president, a candidate has to receive at least 25 per cent of the
vote in at least five out of the eight provinces.
Much depends upon the way in which the various offices are
elected. As with all of the mechanisms described in this chapter,
the competing benefits of parliamentary and presidential mod-
els cannot be viewed in isolation. For example, the nature of the
187
4.3 Executive Type:
Parliamentarism
electoral system is key, as are the different checks and balances

that can be put in place to address specific fears and concerns.
Many of the power-sharing virtues advocated by proponents of
parliamentarism are premised on the assumption that minori-
ties as well as majorities will be represented in the legislature,
and that coalition governments rather than single-party rule will
be the norm. For many countries, this means that a proportional
electoral system is crucial to the success of parliamentary de-
mocracy as an agent of conflict management.
Similarly, a president’s ability to encourage inter-ethnic mod-
eration and compromise is often dependent upon electoral
arrangements that offer clear incentives for compromise. Some
scholars of ethnic conflict have argued that electoral arrange-
ments which require some geographic distribution of the vote,
or in which the second and third choices of voters are taken into
account, offer the best models for investigation, as they encour-
age the elected president to become a pan-ethnic figure. By con-
trast, presidential or parliamentary elections held under a first-
past-the-post system are more likely to produce outcomes in
which the victor’s support comes primarily from one geogra-
phic and/or ethnic region.
There is considerable room for flexibility and opportunity
for innovation to maximize the advantages and disadvantages of
each. It is worth remembering that all three classifications – par-
liamentarism, presidentialism and semi-presidentialism – are
more ideal types than definitive models. There is considerable
room for flexibility and opportunity for innovation to maximize
the advantages and disadvantages of each. Some parliamentary
countries such as South Africa, for example, call their prime mi-
nister a “President”, thus maximizing the symbolic powers of the
office while maintaining the structural advantages of a parlia-
mentary system. Israel recently introduced a hybrid system in
which the people nonetheless directly elect the parliamentary
prime minister. Finland’s semi-presidential system allows the
president to share power with the prime minister on a nearly
equal basis, but with specific responsibility for certain areas such
as foreign policy. Creative constitutional engineering thus pro-
vides opportunities for maximizing desired characteristics while
minimizing perceived disadvantages.
188
CONSTITUTING AN EXECUTIVE GOVERNMENT
Parliamentary system: The legislature is the principal arena for both

lawmaking and (via majority decisions) for executive power.
Presidential system: The executive and legislative branches are
separated, with executive authority residing outside the legislature with
the president and his or her cabinet.
Semi-Presidential: Combines a parliamentary system featuring a prime
minister who has some executive powers, with a president who also has
executive powers.
Parliamentary systems Presidential systems Semi-Presidential

systems
Advantages
■ inclusiveness (can ■ can be a unifying ■ can combine

include all groups national figure advantages of both
within the executive) ■ highly identifiable and presidentialism and
■ flexibility accountable to voters parliamentarism
(parliamentary ■ greater degree of ■ “mutual consensus”
coalitions can change choice for voters requirement
without recourse to
■ stability and
elections)
continuity of policy-
■ checks and balances making
(executive is
dependent on the
confidence of the
legislature)
■ empirically associated
with democratic
persistence
Disadvantages
■ possibility of executive ■ centralization of ■ dangers of deadlock

deadlocks, stalemates authority in one between president
and immobilism person and parliament
■ problems of ■ inherently ■ division of governing
accountability as majoritarian and powers can be
decisions are taken by exclusive unclear
the collective cabinet ■ empirically associated
■ lack of governing with democratic
stability failure

4.3 Executive Type:
Parliamentarism

Lijphart, Arend. ed. 1992. Parliamentary versus Presidential
Government. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Linz, Juan. 1990. “The Perils of Presidentialism”, Journal of
Democracy, no. 1 (Winter 1990). pp. 51–69.
Mainwaring, Scott. 1993. “Presidentialism, Multipartism, and
Democracy: The Difficult Combination”, Comparative Political
Studies, vol. 26, no. 2. pp. 198–228.
Shugart, Matthew S. and Carey, John. 1992. Presidents and
Assemblies: Constitutional Design and Electoral Dynamics.
Stepan, Alfred and Cindy Skach, 1993. “Constitutional
Frameworks and Democratic Consolidation: Parliamentarism
versus Presidentialism”, World Politics, vol. 46, no. 1. pp.
1–22.
190
4.4 Electoral Systems for Divided Ben Reilly and

Societies Andrew Reynolds
4.4 Electoral Systems for Divided Societies
The collective evidence from elections held in divided

societies to date suggests that an appropriately crafted
electoral system can help to nurture accommodative
tendencies, but that the implementation of an inappropriate
system can severely harm the process of conflict resolution
and democratization in a plural state. In this section, we
identify a number of instances where the electoral system
itself appears to have encouraged accommodation, and
those cases where it played a part in exaggerating the
incentives for ethnic polarization.
4.4.1 Introduction
4.4.2 Electoral systems and conflict management
4.4.3 Needs of transitional versus consolidated democracies
Box 8 Electoral Systems Around the World (pp. 193–196)

Box 9 Ideal Qualities of Electoral Institutions for
Transitional and Consolidated Democracies (p. 202)
A Menu of Options 4 Electoral System Choices for Divided
Societies (p. 203)
4.4.1 Introduction
An electoral system is one of the most important mechanisms
for shaping political competition, because it is, to quote Giovanni
Sartori, “the most specific manipulable instrument of politics” –
that is, it can be purposely designed to achieve particular outcomes.
It can reward particular types of behaviour and place constraints
on others.
In translating the votes in a general election into seats in the
legislature, the choice of electoral system can effectively deter-
mine who is elected and which party gains power. Even with
exactly the same number of votes for parties, one system might
lead to a coalition government and another to a single party
191
4.4 Electoral Systems
for Divided Societies
assuming majority control. An electoral system also has a major

influence on the type of party system that develops: the number
and relative sizes of political parties in parliament, and the inter-
nal cohesion and discipline of parties. For example, some sys-
tems may encourage factionalism where different wings of one
party are constantly at odds with each other, while others might
force parties to speak with one voice and suppress dissent. Dif-
ferent electoral systems may encourage or retard cross-party al-
liances. They can provide incentives for groups to be accommo-
datory or for parties to base themselves on hostile appeals to eth-
nicity or kinship ties. The choice of electoral system is therefore
one of the most crucial institutional decisions for any post-con-
flict society.
An electoral system is designed to do three main jobs. First, it
acts as the conduit through which the people can hold their
elected representatives accountable. Second, it will translate the
votes cast into seats won in a legislative chamber. The system
may give more weight to proportionality between votes cast and
seats won, or it may funnel the votes (however fragmented
among parties) into a parliament which contains two large par-
ties representing polarized views. Third, different electoral sys-
tems structure the boundaries of “acceptable” political discourse
in different ways, and give incentives for those competing for
power to couch their appeals to the electorate in distinct ways.
In deeply divided societies, for example, particular electoral sys-
tems can reward candidates and parties who act in a co-opera-
tive, accommodatory manner to rival groups; or they can instead
reward those who appeal only to their own ethnic group. How-
ever, the “spin” which an electoral system places on a wider poli-
tical system depends on the specific divisions within any given
society.
4.4.2 Electoral systems and conflict management
The comparative experience suggests that four specific sys-
tems are particularly suitable for divided societies. These are
usually recommended as part of overall constitutional engineer-
ing packages, in which the electoral system is one element.
Some constitutional engineering packages emphasize inclusiveness
and proportionality; others emphasize moderation and accom-
modation. The four major choices in this regard are (a) list
proportional representation, (b) the alternative vote, (c) the single
transferable vote, and (d) strategies which explicitly recognize the
presence of communal groups.
192
4.4 Electoral Systems for Divided

Societies
Box 8
ELECTORAL SYSTEMS AROUND THE WORLD
There are countless electoral system variations, but essentially

they can be split into nine main systems which fall into three
broad families. The most common way to look at electoral systems
is to group them by how closely they translate national votes won
into parliamentary seats won; that is, how proportional they are.
Most electoral system choices involve a trade-off: maximizing
proportionality and inclusiveness of all opinions, or maximizing
government efficiency via single-party governments and
accountability. Figure One encapsulates the three main electoral
system families of Plurality-Majority systems, Semi-Proportional
systems and Proportional Representation systems. Proportional Representation
Semi-PR
Plurality – Majority
STV
MMP
List PR
Ireland, Malta
New Zealand, Germany
SNTV
Parallel
South Africa, Finland

Alternative Vote
Two Round
Jordan, Vanuatu
Block Vote
Japan, Russia
France, Mali
FPTP
Australia, Fiji
Palestine, Maldives
UK, India
Plurality-Majority Systems
These comprise two plurality systems, First Past the Post and the
Block Vote, and two majority systems, the Alternative Vote and the
Two-Round System.
1. First Past the Post (FPTP) is the world’s most commonly used
system. Contests are held in single-member districts, and the win-
ner is the candidate with the most votes, but not necessarily an
absolute majority of the votes. FPTP is supported primarily on the
grounds of simplicity, and its tendency to produce representatives
193
beholden to defined geographic areas. Countries that use this sys-

tem include the United Kingdom, the United States, India, Cana-
da, and most countries that were once part of the British Empire.
2. The Block Vote (BV) is the application of FPTP in multi-
rather than single-member districts. Voters have as many votes as
there are seats to be filled, and the highest-polling candidates fill
the positions regardless of the percentage of the vote they actually
achieve. This system is used in some parts of Asia and the Middle
East. A variation is the “Party Block”, as used in Singapore and
Mauritius: voters choose between parties rather than candidates,
and the highest-polling party wins all seats in the district.
3. In the Alternative Vote (AV) system, electors rank the candi-
dates in order of choice, marking a “1” for their favourite candi-
date, “2” for their second choice, “3” for their third choice, and so
on. The system thus enables voters to express their preferences
between candidates, rather than simply their first choice. If no can-
didate has over 50 per cent of first-preferences, lower order pref-
erence votes are transferred until a majority winner emerges. This
system is used in Australia and some other South Pacific countries.
4. The Two-Round System (TRS) has two rounds of voting,
often a week or a fortnight apart. The first round is the same as a
normal FPTP election. If a candidate receives an absolute majority
of the vote, then he or she is elected outright, with no need for a
second ballot. If, however, no candidate has received an absolute
majority, then a second round of voting is conducted, and the win-
ner of this round is declared elected. This system is widely used in
France, former French colonies, and some parts of the former
Soviet Union.
Semi-Proportional Systems
Semi-PR systems translate votes cast into seats won in a way that
falls somewhere in between the proportionality of PR systems and
the majoritarianism of plurality-majority systems. The two Semi-PR
systems are the Single Non-Transferable Vote (SNTV), and Parallel
(or mixed) systems.
5. In SNTV systems, each elector has one vote but there are sev-
eral seats in the district to be filled, and the candidates with the
highest number of votes fill these positions. This means that in a
four-member district, for example, one would on average need
only just over 20 per cent of the vote to be elected. This system is
used today only in Jordan and Vanuatu, but is most often associated
with Japan, which used SNTV until 1993.
6. Parallel systems use both PR lists and single-member districts
running side-by-side (hence the term parallel). Part of the parlia-
194

Societies
ment is elected by proportional representation, part by some type

of plurality or majority method. Parallel systems have been widely
adopted by new democracies in the 1990s, perhaps because, on the
face of it, they appear to combine the benefits of PR lists with single-
member district representation. However, depending upon the
design of the system, Parallel systems can produce results as dis-
proportional as plurality-majority ones.
Proportional Representation Systems
All Proportional Representation (PR) systems aim to reduce the
disparity between a party’s share of national votes and its share of
parliamentary seats. For example, if a major party wins 40 per cent
of the votes, it should also win around 40 per cent of the seats, and
a minor party with 10 per cent of the votes should similarly gain 10
per cent of the seats. For many new democracies, particularly those
that face deep divisions, the inclusion of all significant groups in
the parliament can be an important condition for democratic con-
solidation. Outcomes based on consensus-building and power-shar-
ing usually include a PR system.
Criticisms of PR are two-fold: that it gives rise to coalition gov-
ernments, with disadvantages such as party system fragmentation
and government instability; and that PR produces a weak linkage
between a representative and her or his geographical electorate.
And since voters are expected to vote for parties rather than indi-
viduals or groups of individuals, it is a difficult system to operate in
societies that have embryonic or loose party structures.
7. List PR systems are the most common type of PR. Most forms
of list PR are held in large, multi-member districts that maximize
proportionality. List PR requires each party to present a list of can-
didates to the electorate. Electors vote for a party rather than a can-
didate; and parties receive seats in proportion to their overall share
of the national vote. Winning candidates are taken from the lists in
order of their respective position. This system is widely used in con-
tinental Europe, Latin America and southern Africa.
8. Mixed Member Proportional (MMP) systems, as used in Ger-
many, New Zealand, Bolivia, Italy, Mexico, Venezuela, and
Hungary, attempt to combine the positive attributes of both
majoritarian and PR electoral systems. A proportion of the parlia-
ment (roughly half in the cases of Germany, New Zealand, Bolivia,
and Venezuela) is elected by plurality-majority methods, usually
from single-member districts, while the remainder is constituted by
PR lists. The PR seats are used to compensate for any dispropor-
tionality produced by the district seat results. Single-member dis-
tricts also ensure that voters have some geographical representation.
195
9. The Single Transferable Vote (STV) uses multi-member dis-

tricts, where voters rank candidates in order of preference on the
ballot paper in the same manner as Alternative Vote. After the total
number of first-preference votes are tallied, a “quota” of votes is es-
tablished, which a candidate must achieve to be elected. Any can-
didate who has more first preferences than the quota is immedi-
ately elected. If no-one has achieved the quota, the candidate with
the lowest number of first preferences is eliminated, and their sec-
ond preferences are redistributed among remaining candidates.
And the surplus votes of elected candidates (i.e., those votes above
the quota) are redistributed according to the second preferences
on the ballot papers until all seats for the constituency are
filled. This system is well established in Ireland and Malta.
List PR
List PR is an essential component of the constitutional engi-
neering package known as consociationalism. Consociationalism
entails a power-sharing agreement within government, brokered
between clearly defined segments of society divided by ethnicity,
religion and language. Consociational societies include Bel-
gium, the Netherlands, Austria and Switzerland. The idea has
four basic elements: (i) grand coalition (executive power sharing
among the representatives of all significant groups); (ii) segmen-
tal autonomy (a high degree of internal autonomy for groups that
wish to have it); (iii) proportionality (proportional representation
and proportional allocation of civil service positions and public
funds); and (iv) mutual veto (a minority veto on the most vital
issues). These four basic elements ensure that government beco-
mes an inclusive multi-ethnic coalition, unlike the adversarial
nature of a Westminster winner-take-all democracy.
Proponents of consociationalism favour list PR because it: 1)
delivers highly proportional election results; 2) is relatively in-
vulnerable to gerrymandering; and 3) is simpler than many al-
ternative systems for both voters and electoral officials and thus
will be less open to suspicion. The successful use of list PR at
South Africa’s transitional 1994 elections is often cited as a good
example of these qualities, and of the way list PR enables parties
to place women or ethnic minorities in winnable places on their
party list.
But there are also disadvantages. Because list PR relies on
large, multi-member electoral districts, it breaks the geographi-
cal link between voters and their elected member. Geographi-
cally large multi-ethnic societies which have used list PR success-
196

Societies
fully, such as South Africa and Indonesia, are now considering

alternatives which would build in some geographic accountabil-
ity via single-member electorates. Secondly, the wider argument
for consociationalism rests on assumptions that may not always
be viable in divided societies, such as the expectation that ethnic
leaders will be more moderate than their supporters. Consocia-
tional structures may merely entrench ethnic politics, rather
than work to encourage inter-ethnic alliances. So consociation-
alism may be a good strategy for deeply divided societies in tran-
sition, but less appropriate for promoting subsequent democratic
consolidation.
The experience of list PR in post-Dayton Bosnia is a good ex-
ample of how proportionality alone will not encourage accom-
modation. In Bosnia, groups are represented in parliament in
proportion to their numbers in the community as a whole, but
because parties can rely exclusively on the votes of members of
their own community for their electoral success, there is little
incentive for them to behave accommodatively on ethnic issues.
In fact, the incentives work in the other direction. As it is easy to
mobilize support by playing the “ethnic card”, major parties in
Bosnia have every incentive to emphasize ethnic issues and sec-
tarian appeals. Bosnia’s 1996 elections were effectively an ethnic
census, with electors voting along ethnic lines and each of the
major nationalist parties gaining support almost exclusively
from their own ethnic group.
The Alternative Vote (AV)
An alternative approach to electoral system design is to
choose a system which places less emphasis on proportional
results but more emphasis on the need to force different groups
to work together. The core of this approach is to offer electoral
incentives to politicians to look for votes among other groups
rather than just relying on supporters from their own group.
The Alternative Vote (AV) enables voters to declare not only their
first choice of candidate on a ballot, but also their second, third
and subsequent choices amongst all candidates standing. This
feature presents candidates with a strong incentive to try and
attract the second preferences of voters from other groups
(assuming that the voters’ first preference will usually be a
candidate from their own group), as winners need to gain an
absolute majority of the vote under AV rules. Candidates
who successfully “pool” their own first preferences and the
second preferences of others will be more successful than
those who fail to attract any second-order support. To suc-
197
ceed, candidates need to move to the centre on policy issues to

attract floating voters, or to successfully accommodate “fringe”
issues into their broader policy. There is a long history of both
types of behaviour in Australian elections, the only established
democracy to use AV, and in the ethnically fragmented state of
Papua New Guinea, which has also used AV.
The more groups competing in a constituency, the more like-
ly it is that meaningful “preference swapping” will take place. In
many ethnically divided countries, however, members of the
same ethnic group tend to cluster together, which means that
the relatively small, single-member districts which are a feature
of AV would, in these cases, result in constituencies which are
ethnically uniform. Where a candidate is confident of achieving
an absolute majority of first preferences due to the domination
of his or her own ethnic group in an area, they need look no fur-
ther to win the seat. This means that the “vote-pooling” between
different ethnic groups which is a precondition for the accom-
modative influences of AV would not, in fact, occur. So AV works
best either in cases of extreme ethnic fragmentation or, more
commonly, where a few large ethnic groups are widely dispersed
and intermixed. The use of AV-like systems for presidential elec-
tions in Sri Lanka and as part of the constitutional settlement in
ethnically intermixed Fiji are both examples of this.
The Single Transferable Vote (STV)
STV stands as something of a mid-point between the use of
list PR, which maximizes proportionality, and AV, which
maximizes incentives for accommodation. Some scholars argue
that under STV, the twin benefits of proportionality and
accommodation can both be emphasized. As a PR system, STV
produces largely proportional results, while its preferential
ballot provides some incentives towards the vote-pooling approach
outlined above, thus encouraging party appeals beyond defined
ethnic boundaries. Segments of opinion can be represented
proportionately in the legislature, but there is also an incentive
for political elites to appeal to the members of other segments,
given that second preferences are of prime importance.
STV has attracted many admirers, but its use for national par-
liamentary elections has been limited to a few cases – Ireland
(since 1921), Malta (since 1947), the Australian Senate (since
1949), and at “one-off” elections in Estonia and Northern Ire-
land. As a mechanism for choosing representatives, STV is per-
haps the most sophisticated of all electoral systems, allowing for
198

Societies
choice between parties and between candidates within parties.

The final results also retain a fair degree of proportionality, and
since the multi-member districts are usually relatively small, the
geographical link between voter and representative is retained.
However, the system is often criticized because preference voting
is unfamiliar in many societies, and demands a minimal degree
of literacy and numeracy. STV counts are also quite complex,
which can be a drawback. STV also carries the disadvantages of all
parliaments elected by PR methods, such as under certain
circumstances exaggerating the power of small minority parties.
The use of STV in divided societies to date has been some-
what limited and inconclusive. Two ethnically divided states
have utilized STV in “one-off” national elections: Northern Ire-
land in 1973 and 1982, and Estonia in 1990. In both cases, little
vote-pooling or accommodation on ethnic issues took place, and
the elected parliaments exhibited little in the way of inter-ethnic
accommodation. In contrast, however, STV has been used suc-
cessfully in the Republic of Ireland and in Malta, maximizing
both proportionality and, by using small multi-member electoral
districts, an element of geographic accountability. STV was
recently re-introduced to Northern Ireland as part of the Irish
peace settlement (see Case Study), where it formed part of a
wider prescription for power sharing between the Catholic and
Protestant populations, and was successfully used there for the
first post-settlement elections in 1998. Significant numbers of
Catholics and Protestants used their preferences to transfer
votes across group lines for the first time.
Explicit recognition of communal groups
A different approach to elections and conflict management is
to explicitly recognize the overwhelming importance of group
identity in the political process, and to mandate this in the elec-
toral law so that ethnic representation, and the ratio of different
ethnic groups in the parliament, is fixed. Four distinct ap-
proaches reflect this thinking:
Communal electoral rolls. The most straightforward way of
explicitly recognizing the importance of ethnicity is a system of
communal representation. Seats are not only divided on a commu-
nal basis, but the entire system of parliamentary representation
is similarly based on communal considerations. This usually
means that each defined “community” has its own electoral roll,
and elects only members of its “own group” to parliament. To-
day, only Fiji (see Case Study) continues to use this system, and
it remains as an optional choice for Maori voters in New
199
Zealand. Elsewhere communal systems were abandoned because

communal electorates, while guaranteeing group representa-
tion, often had the perverse effect of undermining accommoda-
tion, as there were no incentives for political intermixing
between communities. The issue of how to define a member of
a particular group, and how to distribute electorates fairly
between them, was also strewn with pitfalls.
Reserved seats for ethnic, linguistic or other minorities. An al-
ternative approach is to reserve some parliamentary seats for
identifiable ethnic or religious minorities. Many countries re-
serve a few seats for such groups: e.g., Jordan (Christians and
Circassians), India (scheduled tribes and castes), Pakistan (non-
Muslim minorities), Colombia (“black communities”), Croatia
(Hungarian, Italian, Czech, Slovak, Ruthenian, Ukrainian,
German and Austrian minorities), Slovenia (Hungarians and
Italians), Taiwan (Aboriginal community), Western Samoa
(non-indigenous minorities), Niger (Taurag), and the
Palestinian Authority (Christians and Samaritans). But it is often
argued that a better strategy is to design structures that nurture
a representative parliament naturally, rather than to impose
members who may be viewed as “token” parliamentarians with
representation but no genuine influence. Quota seats can also
breed resentment among the majority population and increase
mistrust between minority groups.
Ethnically mandated lists under a block vote system. A third
approach is to use pre-determined ethnic lists with the party block
vote. Party block works like the standard block vote described
earlier, except that electors vote for a party list of candidates rather
than individuals. The party that wins most votes takes all the
seats in the district, and its entire list of candidates is duly elect-
ed. Some countries use this system to ensure balanced ethnic
representation, as it enables parties to present ethnically diverse
lists of candidates for election. In Lebanon, for example, each
party list must comprise a mix of candidates from different eth-
nic groups. Electors thus choose on the basis of criteria other
than ethnicity. Singapore uses a similar system to increase the
representation of its minority Malay and Indian community. But
a critical flaw of the party block is the possibility of “super-
majoritarian” results, where one party can win almost all of the
seats with a simple majority of the votes. In the Singaporean
elections of 1991, for example, a 61 per cent vote for the ruling
People’s Action Party gave it 95 per cent of all seats in parlia-
ment, while in 1982 and 1995 the Mauritian elections saw a par-
liament with no opposition at all. To counter this possibility, the
200

Societies
Lebanese constitution pre-determines the ethnic composition of

the entire parliament, and of key positions such as the president
and the prime minister as well.
“Best loser” seats to balance ethnic representation in the leg-
islature. A final mechanism sometimes used in conjunction with
the party block vote is to assign seats to the “best loser” from a
specified community. In Mauritius, for example, four “best
loser” seats are allocated to the highest polling candidates of
under-represented ethnic groups in order to balance ethnic rep-
resentation. Recently, however, there has been a strong move-
ment in favour of the abolition of such seats, which are seen as
representing the last vestiges of communalism in Mauritian pol-
itics.
4.4.3 Needs of transitional and consolidated democracies
There is no perfect electoral system, and no “right” way to ap-
proach its design. But for all societies, not just divided ones, the
major design criteria are sometimes in conflict with each other
or even mutually exclusive. For example, increasing the number
of seats in each district to increase proportionality will reduce
geographic accountability between the electorate and the par-
liament. The electoral system designer must therefore go
through a careful preliminary process of prioritizing which cri-
teria are most important to their particular political context. For
example, an ethnically divided state in Central Africa might
want above all to avoid excluding minority ethnic groups from
representation, in order to promote the legitimacy of the elec-
toral process and avoid the perception that the electoral system
was unfair. In contrast, while these issues would remain impor-
tant, a fledgling democracy in a multi-ethnic state in Eastern
Europe might have different priorities – e.g., to ensure that a
government could efficiently enact legislation without fear of grid-
lock and that voters were able to remove discredited leaders if they
so wished. Prioritizing among such competing criteria is the task of
the domestic actors involved in the constitutional design process.
The respective needs of transitional versus consolidated demo-
cracies are often quite different. Put simply, the most important
electoral requirement for democratic transition is usually a system
that maximizes inclusiveness, is clearly fair to all parties, and pre-
sents minimal areas for potential pre-election conflicts (such as the
drawing of electoral boundaries). These goals are best achieved by
some form of regional or national list PR, which ideally leads to the
election of a “grand” or “over-sized” coalition government. By con-
trast, democratic consolidation is more concerned with crafting a
201
system which is responsive to the needs of voters, is accountable in

both geographic and policy terms, and which typically leads to a
coalition or single-party government that the voters can “throw
out” if they do not perform. Such goals are achieved by a system
based, at least to some extent, upon geographically small electoral
districts. Thus South Africa, which successfully conducted its tran-
sitional 1994 election using a national list PR system, may change
to some form of constituency-based system after its next elections
in 1999. The differences between the needs of transitional and
consolidated democracies are represented below.
In divided societies, some or even all of these ideals may have
to be considered secondary to the overriding need to encourage
moderate, accommodative politics. There is a tension between
systems that put a premium on representation of minority groups
(list PR and ethnically defined lists) and those that try to empha-
size minority influence (AV and STV). The best option, of course,
is to have both: representation of all significant groups, but in
such a way as to maximize their influence and involvement in
the policy-making process. This is best achieved by building into
the system devices to achieve proportionality and incentives for
inter-ethnic accommodation. But these goals are not always
Box 9
IDEAL QUALITIES OF ELECTORAL INSTITUTIONS
FOR TRANSITIONAL AND CONSOLIDATED
DEMOCRACIES
Transitional Democracy
– inclusive;
– simple for voters to understand;
– fairness in results (proportionality);
– minimize areas of conflict;
– simple to run;
– transparent;
– “grand” or “oversized” coalition governments.
Consolidated Democracy
– accountable;
– enables voters to express more sophisticated range of
choice;
– ability to “throw the rascals out”;
– responsive to electorate;
– promote sense of “ownership” of political process
amongst voters;
– “minimal winning” coalitions or single-party
governments.
202
ELECTORAL SYSTEM CHOICES FOR DIVIDED SOCIETIES
Electoral systems have been recognized as one of the most

important institutional mechanisms for shaping the nature of
political competition. Of the nine types of systems discussed, four
are particularly suitable for divided societies. These four major
choices are outlined below.
List Proportional Alternative Vote Single Communal rolls,

Type
Representation (AV) Transferable Party Block vote

(PR) Vote (STV)
Proportional Majority system The electoral System explicitly

Description
representation with in-built system delivers recognizes

elections that incentives for proportional communal
lead to an inter-ethnic party results but also groups to give
inclusive appeals. To encourages them (relatively
legislature which maximize politicians to fixed)
includes all electoral appeal to the institutional
significant prospects, parties votes of members representation.
groups. Under a need to cultivate from other Competition for
full the second groups via power between
consociational preference votes secondary ethnic groups is
package, each from groups preferences. This defused because
group is other than their can result in the ratio of
represented in own. There is a inclusive power ethnic groups is
cabinet in centripetal spin sharing between fixed in advance.
proportion to to the system all significant Electors must
their electoral where elites are political forces, therefore make
support, and encouraged to but also in their voting
minority interests gravitate to the incentives for choice on the
are protected moderate multi politicians to basis of criteria
through ethnic centre. In reach out to other than
segmental ethnically mixed other groups for ethnicity.
autonomy and districts, majority preference
mutual vetoes. threshold leads to support.
strong incentives
to gain support
from other
groups.
Switzerland, the Estonia 1990, Lebanon,

Examples
Papua New
Netherlands, Guinea Northern Ireland Singapore,
South Africa 1994 1964–1975, Fiji 1998 Mauritius
1997

mutually compatible. A second level of tension exists between

those systems which rely on elite accommodation (especially list
PR) and those which rely on the electorate at large for modera-
tion (AV and, to a lesser extent, STV). Where elites are likely to
be more moderate than the electorate, then list PR enables the
major parties to include candidates from various groups on their
ticket. Where the electorate is the major engine of moderation,
then AV and other systems which encourage vote-pooling will
result in the election of more moderate leaders and more ac-
commodative policies. However, when neither group are likely
to display moderation, then approaches which explicitly recog-
nize the sources of conflict – such as reserved seats or ethnically
mandated lists – may need to be considered, as this provides the
best way of “defusing” ethnicity as an electoral issue.

de Silva, K. M. 1994. Ethnic Diversity and Public Policies:
Electoral Systems, Geneva: UNRISD.
Horowitz, Donald L. 1991. A Democratic South Africa?
Constitutional Engineering in a Divided Society. Berkeley, CA:
University of California Press.
Inter-Parliamentary Union. 1993. Electoral Systems: A World-wide
Comparative Study. Geneva: Inter-Parliamentary Union.
Jenkins, Laura D. 1994. Ethnic Accommodation Through Electoral
Systems. Geneva: UNRISD.
Lijphart, Arend, and Bernard Grofman. eds. 1984. Choosing an
Electoral System: Issues and Alternatives. New York: Praeger.
Reilly, Ben and Andrew Reynolds. Forthcoming. Electoral
Systems and Conflict in Divided Societies. Washington, DC:
National Research Council.
Reynolds, Andrew and Ben Reilly. 1997. The International IDEA
Handbook of Electoral System Design. Stockholm: International
Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance.
Sartori, G. 1968. “Political Development and Political
Engineering”, Public Policy, no. 17. pp. 261-298.
Taagepera, Rein and Matthew S. Shugart. 1989. Seats and Votes:
The Effects and Determinants of Electoral Systems. New Haven,
CT: Yale University Press.
204
Northern Ireland
Ben Reilly
C a s e S t u d y : F i j i
FIJI
Fiji, a South Pacific island with a population of approximately 750,000, has been
the site of one of the most comprehensive recent attempts at “constitutional engi-
neering”: inducing particular political outcomes by the design and structure of
political institutions. Parliaments, executives, courts etc., can be purposely designed
and structured to achieve particular outcomes. Electoral systems, for example, can
enable minorities to be represented in parliament, or they can ensure domination
by a single ethnic majority. And different types of incentives to gain votes can induce
politicians to build support across all groups, or can encourage a narrow sectarian
focus on one group alone. The story of the constitution review exercise conducted
as part of Fiji’s return to democracy represents a good example of this process in
action.
The primary source of conflict in Fiji concerns relations between Fiji’s indigenous
population (a mixture of the Melanesian and Polynesian groups found throughout
the South Pacific islands) and the Indian Fijian community (mostly the descendants
of indentured labourers who came from India to Fiji to work on sugar plantations
in the 19th century under British colonialism). While other groups such as Chinese
and Europeans are also present, Fiji’s primary ethnic cleavage runs between “Indo-
Fijian” (i.e., Indian) and indigenous (i.e., Melanesian and Polynesian) communities.
The two communities maintain a high degree of separation in all spheres of public
and private life. They speak different languages, practice different religions, work in
different occupations, join different social groups, play different sports, and have
very little day-to-day contact. Inter-marriage between the two groups, one of the best
indicators of communal relations, is almost unheard of. Fiji is thus a classic plural
society where, in the words of Joseph Furnivall, “different sections of the same com-
munity … mix but do not combine”.
Fijian society and politics have long been characterized by an uneasy coexistence
between these two communities, with Indo-Fijians predominating in certain key
areas of the economy (particularly the sugar-cane industry) and indigenous Fijians
owning 90 per cent of the land but holding limited economic power. While the
population ratios of the two groups are fairly similar (50 per cent indigenous Fijian,
44 per cent Indian on latest figures), there is very limited informal social or eco-
nomic interaction between the two communities. Each group is also internally divid-
ed. The mostly Hindu Indian community has a sizeable (15 per cent) Muslim minor-
ity and a number of sub-identities, often based on their family roots in India. The
indigenous Fijian population have retained significant and sometimes divisive ele-
ments from both original Melanesian and Polynesian social structures.
Fiji
Following independence from Britain in 1970, Fiji appeared to make a relatively

successful attempt at consolidating a new multi-ethnic democracy. But after the elec-
207
Case Study: Fiji
tion of a government seen by the indigenous Fijian-dominated military as being

overly close to the Indo-Fijian community, Fiji experienced two ethnically motivated
military coups in the late 1980s. The coup leader, Major-General Sitiveni Rabuka,
later justified the coups as necessary to prevent the bloodshed that would have
resulted from outraged expressions of Fijian nationalism had the elected govern-
ment continued in office. In 1990 a new, ethnically biased constitution enshrined a
racial weighting in favour of the indigenous Fijian population, both in terms of civil
rights and political representation. Through a new electoral system based com-
pletely on communal representation of ethnic groups (i.e., a separate electoral roll
for Fijians, Indians and “general electors”), political competition between the
groups was kept entirely distinct. These arrangements had their origin in the pre-
coup electoral system, which was also based on communalism but where there was
an additional proportion of “national” seats featuring open competition on a non-
racial basis. Under the 1990 constitution the racial weighting under-represented the
Indo-Fijian community, and reserved certain offices such as the prime ministership
for indigenous Fijians. This, combined with the separate electoral roll for Fijian,
Indian and other groups rendered true inter-ethnic political competition virtually
impossible. Indigenous Fijians were guaranteed a majority in parliament, which thus
turned into a classic in-group and out-group legislature: ethnic Fijians formed the
government, while Indians and others formed the opposition.
In 1994, following economic difficulties, international condemnation (including
expulsion from the Commonwealth of Nations) and high levels of emigration by the
Indian community, the government established a Constitution Review Commission
(CRC) to examine the constitution and recommend a more appropriate form of
representation. The Commission’s 1996 report, The Fiji Islands: Towards a United
Future, recommended an entirely new non-racial constitution. It would combine
strong constitutional guarantees of human rights (such as a Bill of Rights and a
Human Rights Commission) with an innovative package of electoral arrangements
designed to encourage the development of multi-ethnic politics in Fiji. The
Commission recommended that Fiji move “gradually but decisively” away from com-
munal representation in the direction of an open and non-racial electoral system.
The Commission thus viewed the electoral system as the most powerful tool for
influencing the nature of Fijian politics. Political parties in many ethnically divided
societies tend to be based around particular ethnic groups, and the Commission’s
stated objective was “to find ways of encouraging all, or a sufficient number, of them
to come together for the purpose of governing the country in a way that gives all
communities an opportunity to take part”. The Commission carefully assessed and
evaluated each of the major electoral systems against a set of specified criteria: the
capacity to encourage multi-ethnic government; a recognition of the importance of
Fiji
political parties; the incentives presented for moderation and co-operation across
ethnic lines; and effective representation of constituents.
208
To maximize these requirements, the CRC recommended an Alternative Vote sys-

tem. By making politicians from one group reliant on votes from the other group,
the Alternative Vote could, the CRC argued, encourage a degree of “preference
swapping” between the two, which could help to encourage accommodation
between (and within) the deeply divided communities. Candidates who adopted
moderate positions on ethnic issues and attempted to represent the “middle
ground” would, under this logic, be more electorally successful than extremists,
moving Fijian politics towards a more centralist, multi-racial competition for power.
The CRC also argued that list Proportional Representation (list PR) would give too
much power to party bosses and, because of the need for large national or regional
districts, would fail to provide the necessary links between a voter and his or her
member of parliament. Under PR systems, they argued, ethnic parties could expect
to be represented in the legislature in proportion to their numbers in the commu-
nity irrespective of whether they were inclined towards moderation or not. Hence
PR, when combined with communal seats, offered “few incentives to parties to
become more multi-ethnic in their composition or more willing to take account of
the interests of all communities”.
The ultimate success or failure of these measures in Fiji, however, is heavily
dependent on the demographic distribution of ethnic groups and the way in which
electoral boundaries are drawn. Rural Fiji has high territorial segregation, and the
outer islands are almost entirely indigenous Fijian, so vote-pooling there will have to
take place on issues other than ethnic ones, if it takes place at all. The situation on
the main island and in urban centres is more mixed. The smallness of the island and
the highly inter-mixed nature of many urban areas mean that electoral boundaries
can be drawn so as to create districts which have reasonably mixed populations. If
the makeup of these electorates are sufficiently diverse to enable genuine trading of
preferences between groups, then the new system could well promote meaningful
accommodation across cleavages, “the object being to force political parties to
appeal for votes for their candidates from communities other than the one in which
they are based”. The issue of constituency boundaries and the demographic make-
up of electorates are thus likely to be major points of contention as the electoral
reforms are implemented.
But the 1997 constitution, as enacted, rejected some of the CRC’s recommen-
dations. Most importantly, the parliament did not make the recommended move
away from communalism, and two thirds of all seats in the new 70-seat parliament
will continue to be elected on a communal basis, leaving only one third of seats in
which genuinely inter-ethnic competition will take place. The proportions of com-
munal seats are set at 23 for indigenous Fijians, 19 for Indo-Fijians, one for
Rotumans (a separate indigenous group from the outlying island of Rotuma) and
Fiji
three for “others”. The remaining 25 seats will be allocated from an open electoral
roll. A concern to make the system workable resulted in a choice of electoral system
209
Case Study: Fiji
based on small single-member electoral districts, rather than the recommended

larger multi-member districts. This meant that to achieve the type of “preference
swapping” between different communities envisaged by the Commission, these
small districts will have to be ethnically mixed – a difficult proposition. Finally, the
new constitution adds mandated power sharing to the “integrative” electoral
arrangements by providing that all parties who achieve at least 10 per cent of the
vote must be represented in the cabinet in proportion to their vote share.
If the electoral system works as intended it should result in the election of a pool
of moderate candidates dependent on the support of both political communities for
their electoral survival, and thus a degree of accommodation between supporters of
rival groups “on the ground” at the local level. But even if this does not occur, the
mandated grand coalition cabinet provided by the constitution should ensure that
both communities have to work together at the elite level at least. This double-dose
of accommodation-inducing mechanisms means that there are a number of safety
measures built into the new dispensation: if one should fail, backup measures are
there to ensure at least a modicum of power sharing at another level.
Another aspect of the Constitution Review Commission, which may serve as a
model for others, is the way in which the review process was actually conducted. The
three-member Commission comprised representatives of both the Fijian and Indian
communities, but was headed by a non-Fijian, former New Zealand governor-gen-
eral Sir Paul Reeves, himself a highly respected representative of New Zealand’s own
indigenous (Maori) community. The Commission was thus structured to encourage
both communities to have faith in its ability to arrive at a judicious outcome. The
Commission also toured Fiji extensively, holding meetings and public hearings
across the country. And they held extensive consultations internationally, holding
public discussions with experts in Australia, Malaysia, Mauritius, South Africa, Great
Britain and the United States. With the assistance of the UN Electoral Assistance
Division, they commissioned papers from scholars on different aspects of democra-
cy in divided societies, and met most of the major academic figures in the field. The
Commission’s inquiries were thus amongst the most comprehensive and well-
planned of any recent exercise in constitutional engineering. The significance of
process is thus a key lesson from the Fijian experience. By taking evidence as wide-
ly as possible and examining at first hand the experience of other multi-ethnic soci-
eties (e.g., Mauritius), the review process ensured that the final report could legiti-
mately claim to be a comprehensive document.
The CRC report was widely seen as balanced and innovative. Moreover, the
Commission was structured in such a way as to encourage acceptance of its outcome
amongst the majority of both communities. It appealed to the middle ground. This
was reflected in the response of parliament, which accepted most of the report in
Fiji
toto (bar the exceptions above) and tried to translate the recommendations into a
new constitution. Opposition to the report’s recommendations came from the more
210
extreme elements of both communities. Nonetheless, the leadership and members

of the major parties from both communities supported the new constitution. In late
1997, following the passage of the new constitution, the major parties formed a
power-sharing government of national unity, with the leader of the 1987 coup,
Sitiveni Rabuka, as Prime Minister and erstwhile leader of the Opposition, Jai Ram
Reddy, invited to become Deputy Prime Minister. This itself represented a major
breakthrough, which was as much a reaction to the co-operative spirit engendered
by the constitution-making exercise, as it was to the provisions of the document
itself.

Constitution (Amendment) Act 1997 of the Republic of the Fiji Islands, 25 July 1997.
Constitution Review Commission. 1996. The Fiji Islands: Towards a United Future.
Parliamentary paper No. 34 of 1996. Parliament of Fiji, Suva.
Furnivall, J. S. 1948. Colonial Policy and Practice: A Comparative Study of Burma and
Netherlands India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Lawson, Stephanie. 1991. The Failure of Democratic Politics in Fiji. Oxford:
Clarendon Press.
Reilly, Ben. 1997. “Constitutional Engineering and the Alternative Vote in Fiji: An
Assessment”. In Brij V. Lal and Peter Larmour. eds. Electoral Systems in Divided
Societies: the Fiji Constitution Review. Canberra: National Centre for Development
Studies.
Fiji
211
4.5 Legislatures for
Post-Conflict Societies
David M. Olson
4.5 Legislatures for Post-Conflict Societies
In a democratic political system, the legislature is the

authoritative institution for the expression and resolution of
policy conflict. Its authority is derived from its representative
function in the state and its constitutional status as the
supreme law-enacting body, and expressed not only through
its constitutional status, but also via its composition and
internal procedures and organization. In this section, we
consider those features of legislatures that affect post-conflict
societies.
4.5.1 Introduction
4.5.2 Elections and members
4.5.3 Internal features: committees, floor, procedures,
leadership, staff and facilities
4.5.4 Sources of power
4.5.5 One or two chambers?
4.5.6 Conclusion
4.5.1 Introduction
In addition to its lawmaking function, the legislature acts as
the main representative body of the state, reflecting society’s
divergent opinions at the political level. Legislatures are thus
capable of expressing and resolving a wide variety of conflicts
within society. The structure and procedural rules of a legisla-
ture, as well as the electoral basis of its membership, reward the
ability to both express and resolve conflict. Legislatures create
the conditions for the emergence of co-operative antagonists.
Though they disagree on public policy, they must agree on
structure and rules to provide the basis for the expression of
their conflicts. Those same rules and structures make it possible
to find compromise solutions to their problems, and thus devel-
op the necessary skills to find solutions to other, more weighty,
conflicts.
The means by which conflicts are expressed within a legisla-
ture are also the means by which conflicts are resolved. Most leg-
212
4.5 Legislatures for Post-Conflict

Societies
islatures are comprised of members of political parties repre-

senting particular electoral districts or geographic areas; yet few
areas or electoral districts are homogeneous on all types of issues,
and neither are political parties. Each forces a degree of com-
promise among its supporters on a wide range of issues. Each
also becomes the means by which compromises are forged on
those issues which divide them. The search for agreement and
compromise is thus a defining feature of legislatures, both in
terms of their composition and in their internal structure and
procedures.
The terms “legislature” and “parliament” may be used inter- The search for
changeably. About half of the world’s parliaments are unicameral agreement and
(having just one chamber); about half are bicameral (having two
compromise is a
chambers), though usually one is more active and important
than the other. Bicameral systems have a main chamber (House defining feature of
of Commons, House of Representatives, Chamber of Deputies, legislatures, both in
etc.,) and a secondary chamber (the “upper” chamber, Senate, terms of their
and so on). In almost all cases the “lower” chamber is more im- composition and in
portant than the “upper” one.
their internal
The term “parliament” originated in Britain, where a “parlia-
mentary system of government” means that the chief executive structure and
(prime minister) is selected and removed by parliament. Bodies procedures.
that follow the British practice are sometimes termed “Westmin-
ster” model parliaments. The European continental parlia-
ments, though selecting chief executives in the same manner,
have developed distinctive internal practices and structures. The
US Congress, both in its separateness from the president and in
its internal characteristics, is a distinct type by itself. Many new
nations, and newly democratized ones, incorporate selected fea-
tures from these existing models into their new constitutions
and legislatures.
In newly independent and in older authoritarian countries,
one of the pervasive conflicts is often between the executive and
the legislature. The executive, often drawn from powerful fami-
lies or with military support, can dominate the political system,
leaving political parties fragile and legislatures ineffective.
As countries become less authoritarian, or as new democratic
systems are instituted, the legislatures have become more free to
act, but are often handicapped by inadequate human and mate-
rial resources as well as by the practices of the past. This “oppor-
tunities-resources gap” has been noted in many post-communist
democracies, as well as in such Asian countries as the Philippi-
213
nes and South Korea, and in African nations including Ghana

and now South Africa.
4.5.2 Elections and members
Democratic legislatures are directly selected through compet-
itive elections held at intervals, usually not exceeding five years.
The most direct means of expression of social conflict in leg-
islatures is through the elected membership. In most cases, the
members tend to reflect population attributes of ethnicity, reli-
gion, social status and economic function. In traditional soci-
eties, members of legislatures often come from elite families
with large land holdings. New types of members, as societies
change, tend to be educated persons from urban industrial and
commercial occupations.
One measure of the social success of minority groups is their
ability to run for and be elected to legislative membership. It
took many years in Europe for deputies from religious minori-
ties to be admitted to parliaments, for example. In contempo-
rary society, the number of women members in parliament is
often viewed as a similar indicator of inclusiveness.
In some societies, there can be some difficulty in finding par-
liamentary members with sufficient educational and profession-
al skills to be capable legislators. This problem is doubly critical
for representatives of minority population groups or groups
newly incorporated in to the political system. In post-communist
democracies, and in countries in transition in Africa, there has
been a shortage of skilled and experienced members for their
newly energized parliaments.
Members of parliament have many options in their attitudes
toward their representational responsibilities. While some may
consider themselves as direct spokespeople for an issue or a pop-
ulation group, others may consider the whole district, or the
whole nation, as more their proper responsibility as elected rep-
resentatives. As political parties nominate candidates or as indi-
viduals propose themselves for parliamentary elections, one im-
mediate question concerns the socio-economic attributes of the
candidates. Does each candidate match an essential element of
the electorate as measured by ethnicity, religion, gender, occu-
pation, place of residence, and also age?
4.5.3 Internal features
The procedures through which debate is conducted and leg-
islation passed are essential elements of the legislative process.
214

Societies
The most formal location of decisions is in plenary session, “on

the floor”. Legislative committees, however, are also an impor-
tant forum within which policy conflict is both expressed and
managed.
Committees
The mechanism of committees is a major method by which
legislatures consider issues. The number of committees usually
ranges from 10 to 25 in any one legislature.
Proposed legislation is considered in committee before final
voting on the floor. Typically, many topics considered by com-
mittees are ultimately resolved through compromises among
many, if not all, parties. Any original proposal, even if offered by
the government, is subject to amendment within the commit-
tees.
Generally, committees are formed to address specific topical
subjects, and to parallel the structure of the government’s min-
istries. In Westminster systems, however, many committees are
formed temporarily for the consideration of a single bill,
although in recent decades permanent committees have be-
come a more established feature of such parliaments (e.g., Aus-
tralia). South Africa has similarly modified its Westminster mo-
del to now include 27 “portfolio” committees to parallel the
ministries. Committees have also been revised and strengthened
recently in South Korea and Mongolia. In the latter parliament,
the number of committees was increased, and public hearings
have been held.
Committees not only consider proposed legislation, they also
can review the budget and examine the conduct of ministers.
These opportunities for review of policy-related action, in addi-
tion to law enactment, permit members to raise issues that con-
cern specific constituencies, issue orientations, and population
subgroups. The small size of a committee and the absence of
news reporting permit members to reach compromises across
party lines more often than is expressed in floor debate. The
structure and composition of committees is therefore crucial to
parties and to governments, for committees can become one of
the main organizational locations in which government and op-
position parties negotiate compromises.
Committees are additional means of representation beyond the
party system. Topical committees can attract members whose
constituencies are particularly affected by the committee’s
subject matter. For example, deputies from rural districts tend
215
to become members of the legislature’s committee on agricul-

ture. Deputies may also express their training and personal inte-
rests through committee membership; for example, foreign pol-
icy committees tend to attract members who have a personal
aptitude for international affairs, while committees on educa-
tion and on justice tend to attract members with a background
in teaching or the law, respectively. Not all members, however,
are familiar with or even interested in the topics of their com-
mittees. In such cases, attendance may become a problem; in
both Poland and South Korea, for example, committee absen-
teeism has been noted. A related problem is that parties can
change their members on a committee, depending upon the
specific topic at the moment.
The majority party or government coalition may be reluctant
to share power in the committees with other and smaller parties.
In most parliaments, committee chairs are distributed among all
parties. In others, committee leadership is controlled exclu-
sively by the majority, as for example in Romania, where the
government parties hold the bulk of memberships of important
committees.
Many different types of working groups can be developed
within and across the formal and main committees. Some legis-
latures, such as Poland, form an ad hoc working group for each
separate bill, which may include members from several different
committees. Special problems are sometimes examined through
the formation of a special purpose committee, the temporary
character of which might extend from one week to several years.
Floor
When the whole legislature is assembled in plenary session,
“on the floor”, it is in its most authoritative but also most parti-
san form. The legislature makes decisions as a whole body
through various forms of voting.
The arrangement of seats on the floor is usually in one of two
patterns. In the Westminster model, two banks of seats face each
other, typifying the adversarial arrangement of government and
opposition. In the European continental model, the chamber is
arranged as a semi-circle, symbolizing gradations of difference
among many parties.
Although the dramatic moments of legislative conflict usually
occur on the floor, and although the mass media usually con-
centrate on conflictual floor debate and votes, members will of-
216

Societies
ten spend more time, and make more substantive progress, in

committees.
Procedures
Rules define both the structure of committees and the proce-
dures by which legislation is proposed and decided. The defini-
tion of committee jurisdiction, the right to offer amendments,
and the sequence of floor debate, are all decided through rules
of procedure.
Rules are very important: they prescribe and define the rela-
tionship between a majority and a minority. Rules permit the
majority to act within defined procedures and thus within defi-
ned limits. Rules permit the minority to attempt to thwart or
change action, but also within defined procedures and limits.
Rules typically are stated in general and inclusive terms, so
that all types of motions and all types of controversies can be
handled in similar ways. The great advantage of stable rules of
procedure is that all members can know and work within the
same framework of action. Rule stability brings predictability to
proceedings, permitting members to negotiate across the issues
and identities that divide them.
Many legislatures have experimented with rules to encourage
the formation of consensus prior to the adoption of crucial leg-
islation. Legislation to change the constitution, for example, fre-
quently requires either extra-large majorities, or lengthened
procedures, or both, prior to final adoption. These special pro-
cedures attempt to develop a broad consensus before final deci-
sions are accepted.
Both structure and rules evolve over time. Within a competi-
tive political party system, the likelihood increases that the
party(ies) currently in the majority will become the minority in
the next election, and vice versa. As each party experiences the
circumstances of both government and opposition – majority
and minority status – over a series of elections, they can learn
through experience the value of stable and fair rules, and of effi-
cient working structures within legislatures.
Leadership
A single presiding officer (the “Speaker”, “President”, “Talman”,
“Marshall”, etc.) typically heads a legislature and oversees the
rules and procedures. One or more central governing bodies
will assist the presiding officer in creating the committee structure,
in assigning bills to committees, in setting the legislative schedule,
217
and in resolving disputes over both schedules and procedures.

The composition of the legislature’s officials and governing bod-
ies has implications for representation. They are usually com-
posed of party leaders. In addition, population groups and issue
orientations within society would also seek to have sympathetic
members on these governing committees. They can do so, how-
ever, only through political parties within the legislature.
Staff and Facilities
A parliament requires full time professional support staff to
function with both efficiency and expertise. A staff is required
for the clerical functions of recording debates and votes on the
floor. Committees and parties require staff to arrange their wor-
king papers.
In addition to the clerical functions, a professional staff is re-
quired by active legislatures that seek to know enough about pol-
icy problems and government actions to make effective deci-
sions. Such staff can be allocated to individual members, to com-
mittees, to parties, or can be organized and managed centrally.
For example, the US Congress mainly allocates staff to indivi-
dual members and to committees, while the Westminster model
has developed a centrally managed staff, and the continental
European parliaments also provide staff to their parliamentary
parties.
The development of a trained and politically neutral staff de-
pends upon, among other things, the willingness of dominant
political parties and even executives to retain the same legisla-
tive staff each time power shifts among the parties or executive
coalitions. In Nicaragua, for example, the shift in power in 1993
led to the dismissal of and also job changes for many of the leg-
islative staff members. Staff remaining from prior authoritarian
political regimes presents a related problem.
Though parliamentary chambers are often constructed for
ornate display and ceremonial functions, the whole legislative
building is a work site. The chamber itself requires adequate sea-
ting, lighting, ventilation, sound systems, and secretarial facili-
ties. Each committee needs its own meeting room, and adjacent
office space for its specialized clerical and professional staff.
Eating facilities and informal space are essential for members
who may meet long into the night following a full working day.
Because members often travel long distances from home to par-
liament, some parliaments provide hotels. Most parliaments also
have a library which itself can become a large complex set of
218

Societies
rooms and facilities. Office buildings are needed, and must be

located within easy walking distance of the main chamber.
As publicly visible institutions, legislatures are sometimes crit-
icized for their cost. Whether or not a building is itself ornate,
however, the more important consideration is that an efficient
workplace is costly, and a competent policy analysis staff is also
expensive. One essential element in the development of an
active legislature is the provision of in-service training for people
– both as members and as staff. Beyond financial cost, however,
lies a broader issue. Post-dictatorship legislatures sometimes re-
tain the secretive practices of the past, so that information about
the legislature is made available to neither the public nor to the
legislative members themselves. If some countries have “high
information” parliaments, such as Britain, Sweden and Lithua-
nia, others have “low information” parliaments, of which Mol-
dova is but one example.
4.5.4 Sources of power: executives and political parties
Executives
Legislative autonomy varies with the parliament’s relationship
to the chief executive. Directly elected presidents can be a
source of external constraint upon parliaments in a presidential
system. In theory, a parliamentary system permits direct parlia-
mentary selection and removal of the chief executive (prime
minister, premier). In practice, however, disciplined political
parties in many countries have curtailed this doctrine of “parlia-
mentary supremacy”. A majority party as in Britain, or majority
coalition as in Germany, can expect parliament to adopt gov-
ernment legislation and to not raise embarrassing topics for
investigation and complaint. The “rule of 80” applies in many
parliaments: 80 per cent of all bills are from the government,
and 80 per cent of government bills are adopted. Nonetheless,
increasing fragmentation of the party system, in countries like
India, Papua New Guinea and other well established democra-
cies in the developing world, has seen parliaments re-assert their
authority in recent years.
Typically, executives define the agenda of legislatures. More
opposition to executive proposals may be expressed and acted
upon in committee than on the floor. Cross-party alliances more
easily develop in committee, while partisan views, both for and
against the government, tend to be directly expressed on the
floor.
219
The actual relationship between executive and legislature varies

greatly. In authoritarian systems, executives dominate the
legislature. In many others, the dominant party in the legislature
is the agent of the executive. At the other extreme, illustrated by
Scandinavian countries, the government is often a minority with-
in its own parliament, and yet it governs effectively through
issue-oriented temporary majorities and the striking of strategic
alliances.
In between the British model of government ministers remai-
ning as parliamentary members, and the American model of
separation of powers, the European continental parliaments re-
quire ministers to resign their parliamentary seats, but also pro-
vide that they may attend and participate in parliamentary de-
bates. Special seating arrangements both provide for and sym-
bolize their distinctive office apart from, but intimate connection
to, the parliament.
Political parties
Political parties are vital to legislatures in at least three res-
pects: 1) organization and conduct of elections; 2) connection
of executive to the legislature; and 3) internal management of
the legislature. Through all three activities, parties and their lea-
ders occupy a dual role: on the one hand, they define and ex-
press conflicts, while on the other, they seek ways to build major-
ity consent to resolve those conflicts.
The leadership offices and committees of a legislature are filled
through party negotiation. It is the parties and their leaders who
decide the allocation of committee seats, and each party selects
its own members to fill those seats. Parliamentary party leaders
tend to treat each other as formal equals, with the result that
small parties can participate in the collective structure and
practices of decisions affecting the legislature as a whole body.
The smaller the party, however, the less strength it possesses in
a body in which the vote is the instrument by which decisions are
made and power is allocated. Small parties may also suffer a
shortage of members who have the time and expertise to sit on
all committees and to monitor all proposed legislation.
4.5.5 One or two chambers?
Party dominance of legislatures often leads a country to create
a second chamber with the intention of providing supplemen-
tary perspectives on public policy. Some are ineffective, e.g., the
Canadian Senate, while others are very powerful, such as the
220

Societies
Australian, American and Romanian upper chambers. Some are

limited to a temporary veto function (e.g., the British House of
Lords and the Polish Senate) where the upper chamber’s rejec-
tion of a bill can be reversed by a second vote in the lower cham-
ber. A few upper chambers are functional in composition, such
as the Slovenian second chamber based on occupations, while
some provide for special population subgroup membership –
such as traditional chiefs in Fiji. Although federations all have a
separate chamber of parliament formed by state or provincial
electorates, their actual importance varies greatly, as illustrated by
the varying powers of the Canadian and Australian Senates.
Because the lower chamber is directly elected, it is almost al-
ways the more active and politically powerful body in compari-
son to the other or second chamber. When joined with federal-
ism, a second chamber presents regional majorities with the
opportunity for direct representation in a country-wide parlia-
ment, even though they are themselves part of a national minor-
ity. Nigeria, as a federation during its Second Republic, is an
example. So appropriate design of second chambers, like the
choice of electoral system, can diversify opportunities for repre-
sentation and sharing of power. Yet the results are not always
predictable. In post-communist democracies such as Poland, for
example, the Senate has a very different district and electoral
system than the more active chamber, and yet the result in party
shares of seats is about the same. In Romania, with similar dis-
trict and election systems, the party results are similar, and yet
the make-up of the two chambers is very different.
Two separate legislative chambers can create difficulties in
basic organizational and procedural matters, as illustrated by
both Chile and Argentina as new post-military democracies. The
two chambers, when controlled by different party majorities,
also hold very different views about the organization and func-
tions of their separate professional staff offices. Resulting delays
and mutual recriminations may lessen the sense of legitimacy of
the whole institution.
Most of the extra features obtained through a second cham-
ber can also be structured into a single chamber through the
electoral and district system. In the single chamber of Hungary,
for example, members are elected from three different sets of
overlapping constituencies. The German Bundestag, likewise,
has two sets of members elected from very different types of dis-
tricts and using two different election systems. The main consi-
221
deration in designing two separate chambers is that the two sets

of districts and election systems be calibrated to compliment
one another. Nevertheless, neither the party nor policy conseq-
uences are clearly predictable in advance of application and
experimentation in practice.
4.5.6 Conclusion
Legislatures as instruments of representation and conflict res-
olution present two major dilemmas, each of which is a combi-
nation of opportunity and challenge. First, a legislature’s struc-
ture as a bicameral or unicameral institution features a dynamic
tension between the electoral system for, and the powers of, the
chamber(s). Second, legislatures face the daunting task of defin-
ing neutral rules of procedure and decision-making, and then of
applying those rules evenly among all parties over a series of
elections and terms during which the composition of majorities
and minorities often change.
No one design for a legislature will work under all circum-
stances. In a democracy, the legislature, the executive, and the
party system act as interdependent parts of the larger political
system. The actions and characteristics of the others condition
what each can do. The essential condition is that each element
fit in some working relationship with the others.
There are examples of countries falling apart, such as Czecho-
slovakia, or turning to military rule, such as Nigeria, when the
legislatures are unable to fulfil their tasks or are overwhelmed by
outside events. In some instances, the lack of a stable majority in
parliament has directly led to either military government or the
institution of a strong executive, of which the current French
Fifth Republic is an example. There are also many examples of
legislatures that have instituted major reforms in their societies
and also in themselves. The formerly aristocratic parliaments of
Europe gradually introduced democracy. The formerly all-male
legislatures of Europe and the United States adopted female suf-
frage. Parliaments elected under conditions of religious or eth-
nic exclusion gradually introduced religious toleration and abol-
ished racial segregation. These reforms, unlike many of the fail-
ures noted above, have occurred slowly. The most dramatic
examples of major shifts of political power in the 1990s include
the former communist states, South Africa, and Mexico. In each
case, bargaining replaced domination as the relationship among
222

Societies
parties and between government and parliament, while the leg-

islature itself was revitalized and reorganized.
The greatest restraint upon the propensity for a majority to
exercise its power arbitrarily is the prospect of becoming a
minority in the next election. The greatest restraint upon the
propensity of the minority to unilaterally obstruct legislative
action is the hope of becoming the majority in the next election.
Some prospect of alternation in power is thus a basic precondi-
tion for the evolution and institutionalization of a functioning
legislature.

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Michigan.
Doering, Herbert. 1995. “Time as a Scarce Resource:
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Lees, John D. and Malcolm Shaw. eds. 1979. Committees in
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Liebert, Ulrike and Maurizio Cotta. eds. 1990. Parliament and
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Mezey, Michael L. 1979. Comparative Legislatures. Durham,
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Olson, David M. 1994. Democratic Legislative Institutions.
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Olson, David M. 1997. “Paradoxes of Institutional
Development: The New Democratic Parliaments of Central
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pp. 407–416.
Olson, David M. and Philip Norton. eds. 1996. The New
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224
K. M. de Silva
Case Study: Sri Lanka
SRI LANKA
Sri Lanka was often referred to as a “model” colony in the early years after inde-
pendence from Britain (1948 to the mid-1950s), since the national political lea-
dership opted for a negotiated transfer of power, in contrast to the agitation in
India. Indeed, the leadership deliberately chose to follow the constitutional evo-
lution of the “settlement” colonies of Canada, Australia and New Zealand into inde-
pendent statehood.
A decade of peaceful consolidation of power by the United National Party (UNP)
governments of 1947 to 1956 was followed by several decades of conflict. Sri Lanka’s
descent to political instability came in three stages, beginning with the period mid-
1955 to 1961 when two sets of communal riots broke out against the background of
a unilateral change in language policy. After a period of quiescence in the mid- and
late 1960s there was a second phase of confrontation and violence, culminating in
the riots of 1977. Six years of relative quiet followed until the outbreak of anti-Tamil
riots in 1983. Thereafter, ethnic violence has been a regular feature.
The conflicts in Sri Lanka illustrate the operation of some of the most com-
bustible factors in ethnic relations: language, religion, long historical memories of
tensions and conflict, and a prolonged separatist agitation. Sri Lanka’s recent polit-
ical experience also provides a case study in the internationalization of ethnic con-
flict. Internationalization of Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict has two aspects: Indian inter-
vention, and the growth of a Tamil diaspora community – the direct consequence of
the current ethnic conflict. In addition, the Sri Lankan experience illustrates the
important point that minorities seeking redress of grievances, and guarantees of
protection of their identities, are not always agents of democratic change or liberal-
ism.
The current conflict is much more complex than a straightforward confrontation
between a once well-entrenched minority – the Sri Lanka Tamils – and a now pow-
erful but still insecure majority – the Sinhalese. These two groups constitute the
principal, but not the only, players. They have two conflicting perceptions. Most
Sinhalese believe that the Tamil minority has enjoyed a privileged position and that
the balance must shift in favour of the Sinhalese majority. The Tamils for their part
claim that they are now a harassed minority, victims of frequent acts of communal
violence and calculated acts and policies of discrimination. Most Tamil fears and
Sri Lanka
insecurity stem from the belief that they have lost the advantageous position they
enjoyed under British rule in many sectors of public life in the country; in brief, a
classic case of a sense of relative deprivation.
Major Issues and Efforts at Management
Despite the tensions and violence that have been a feature of life in post-inde-
pendence Sri Lanka, there also has been an irrepressible strand of pragmatism,
227
which eventually helped in moderating the outcome of many of the contentious

issues. For instance, religious strife between Buddhists and Christians (especially
Roman Catholics), one of the most divisive factors in Sri Lankan public life for 80
years, has ceased to be a contentious issue in politics since the early 1970s. Indeed,
religious tensions are only of very limited significance in the current conflict.
Another example is the settlement reached on the status of immigrant Indian
Tamils. The problem of the political status and voting rights of immigrant Indian
communities overseas came to the fore, first in Sri Lanka, and as early as 1928–1931.
Accommodation reached between 1964 and 1974 – on the number of Indians to
whom Sri Lankan citizenship would be granted – and further elaboration of this pol-
icy between 1977 and 1988, constituted a major political accomplishment consider-
ing the passions and fears that this question had aroused since the late 1920s.
The accommodation reached after the violence associated with the introduction
of language policy reform in 1956 is even more significant. Initiatives between 1958
and 1978 all but conceded parity of status to the Tamil language with Sinhala.
Explicit parity of status of the two languages came in 1987–1988 as part of a politi-
cal settlement brokered by the Indian Government. The political benefits, however,
have proved elusive.
Employment
The bitterness underlying the controversies on employment is explained in part
by the conflict between Tamils’ traditional anxiety to maintain the employment lev-
els in the state services they had grown accustomed to under British rule, and the
attempts of Sinhalese to insist on what they regard as their legitimate share. The eco-
nomic resources of the Northern Province, the principal area of Tamil settlement
in the island, are severely limited. In the late 19th century it was evident that the
increasing population of the region could not be accommodated in the traditional
land-based occupations. The Tamils turned to the state’s bureaucracy and the pro-
fessions for employment. By the early 1900s, Tamils had become singularly depen-
dent on government service; precisely because they had no deep roots in the island’s
plantation economy or trade, they sought to defend their dominant position in the
public service all the more zealously – a reflection of the limited opportunities for
employment available to them on the Jaffna peninsula. This made them exception-
ally vulnerable and sensitive to changes in language policy, to educational reform
Sri Lanka
before independence, and to changes in the mechanisms for admission to tertiary

education in the 1970s.
After independence, competition for posts in the public service increased, espe-
cially with the rapid expansion of educational opportunities in Sinhalese areas. This
greatly reduced traditional Tamil prospects of government employment. Over the
next 25 years the Sinhalese would overtake them in almost every sector of state
employment and in the professions. For a while they retained their advantageous
228
position in some professions – medicine, law and engineering – but lost this by the
early 1980s. This represented the intellectual capital of the past – carefully gathered,
protected and augmented – but, in their eyes, not expanding rapidly enough to
overcome what they saw as the disadvantages of the new policy changes; policies
which would adversely affect the next generation of Tamils. Today the number of
Tamils in all grades of state employment has declined to 10 per cent or less, a third
or fourth of what it was in the early 1940s.
Education
Changes in university admissions policy have contributed substantially to the
sharp deterioration of ethnic relations in Sri Lanka in the last two decades, and to
radicalizing the politics of Tamil areas in the north and east. The crux of the prob-
lem was that the Tamils, who constitute about an eighth of the total population, had
for years a dominant position in the science-based university faculties. In 1970, the
United Front coalition introduced a system of standardization of marks by language
for the university entrance examination. This placed Tamil students at a disadvan-
tage in that they had to obtain higher aggregate marks to enter the university, in the
medical, science and engineering faculties, than the Sinhalese. Thereafter, a district
quota system was also introduced which gave an advantage to students in rural areas
and underdeveloped communities. All this represented a departure from the tradi-
tional practice of selecting students on the basis of an open competitive examina-
tion. The Tamils saw this policy as deliberately discriminatory.
In the late 1970s and early 1980s the newly elected UNP Government changed
this policy, and moved towards a more equitable admissions system, as well as affir-
mative action policies for rural areas (for Sinhalese, Tamil and Muslim alike).
Nevertheless, memories of the unilateral and discriminatory change in university
policy of the early 1970s remain fresh in the minds of Tamils, despite the substan-
tial expansion of university places in medicine and engineering since 1979 for stu-
dents from all sections of the population. The Tamils’ share of places in the engi-
neering and medical faculties has varied from 35 per cent to 25 per cent since
1978–1979, to around 15 per cent in more recent years.
This system has now developed powerful vested interests, which resist all attempts
to return to a merit-based system. The most vocal supporters of the system are the
Muslims and the Indian Tamils, with the Tamils of the Eastern Province and from
parts of the Northern Province (outside the Jaffna peninsula) being joined by
Sri Lanka
Sinhalese from more rural parts of the country. The most recent (1994–1995) devel-
opment is that Tamils from the Jaffna peninsula, hitherto the most vocal critics of
the system, joined in asking for the status of a disadvantaged district for Jaffna itself.
They succeeded in securing this advantage.
Land distribution
Next, there is the accommodation reached on one of the Tamil’s long-standing
grievances, the distribution of state-owned land among landless peasants. Tamil
229
politicians have generally claimed that the Sri Lankan state has used state-owned
land as a means of changing the demographic pattern in what they call the
“Traditional Homelands of the Tamils”, primarily state-owned land in the Eastern
Province. A formula for the distribution of state land was devised in 1984, after long
negotiation between representatives of the Sri Lankan government and Tamil politi-
cians led by the Tamil United Liberation Front (TULF): state-owned land on major
irrigation schemes would be distributed on a quota system which reflected accu-
rately the population profile of the island, with the Sinhalese getting 74 per cent and
the Tamils, Muslims and Indians 12 per cent, six to seven per cent and five per cent
respectively. The Tamils were permitted to use their island-wide quota in any area
they chose, and naturally it was assumed that they would concentrate their quota in
the Eastern and Northern Provinces. On minor irrigation schemes, the distribution
of state land would reflect the demographic pattern of the district or province in
which the scheme was based.
The wide support this formula received from almost all parties to the dispute,
including the TULF, reflected a recognition, implicit more than explicit, that ine-
vitably the Sinhalese, more than others, would benefit because they are the largest
number of landless peasants.
The Politics of Devolution
Finally, we turn to the most intractable problem of all – devolution. Differences
of opinion over devolution have proved to be more difficult to resolve than any
other issue; this, despite the great deal that has been achieved between 1980 and
1987 in establishing a second tier of government (a major political achievement
given the failure of previous attempts in 1957–1958 and 1965–1968). Politicians are
caught between the Sinhalese electorate’s deep-rooted suspicions about the politi-
cal consequences of devolving more power to the provinces, and the Tamils’ insis-
tence on transferring greater power to the provinces or regions at the expense of
the central government. Tamil demands range from the creation of a large Tamil-
dominated North-Eastern Province, to the establishment of a federal political struc-
ture with a weak centre and more powerful provinces or regions. This is quite apart
from the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam’s (LTTE) insistence on a separate state
as a non-negotiable demand.
Devolution has proved to be an insuperable obstacle to practical political man-
Sri Lanka
agement because it touches on some of the most durable fears, suspicions and pre-
judices that divide the country. The resistance to transferring greater power to the
provinces in Sri Lanka springs from such fears. The proximity of the Jaffna region
in northern Sri Lanka to Tamil Nadu in southern India, formerly a reservoir of
Tamil separatist sentiment in India (and a region that has encouraged, nurtured
and protected Tamil separatist groups from Sri Lanka) presents one major concern.
Devolution of power to provincial councils is suspect, even when it has been intro-
230
duced, because of fears that it could spur separatist pressures in the north and east
of the island. Large sections of the Sinhalese view the Tamils’ pressure for devolu-
tion of power as the first step in an inevitable progression to separation of the Tamil
majority areas of the country from the Sri Lankan polity. Historical memories con-
tribute greatly to the disquiet and apprehensions the Sinhalese feel about South
India, especially the perception of South India as the single most powerful and per-
sistent threat confronting Sri Lanka and the Sinhalese.
Those in the forefront of the Tamils’ agitation for devolution of power have
always been vague, deliberately or unconsciously, in the terminology used in their
arguments. The close links that were established in more recent times between
Tamil political groups ranging from the TULF to various separatist groups, with the
government and opposition in the southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu, have natu-
rally aggravated the situation; the establishment of training camps in Tamil Nadu
for separatist activists making forays into the northern and eastern coastal regions of
Sri Lanka has further exacerbated this. The result is that decentralization which was,
and should be, a purely Sri Lankan matter has taken on a cross-national dimension;
India’s role as mediator in the political negotiations between the Sri Lanka Govern-
ment and representatives of Tamil opinion in the 1980s is the most conspicuous fea-
ture of this dynamic.
Pressure for decentralization of administration is limited to the Tamils, and large-
ly to the Tamils living in the north and east of the island, where they are either a
majority or form a substantial minority. There is no pressure from other ethnic
groups; indeed, there is strong opposition to it. The demographic profile of the
Eastern Province, where the Tamils are a minority (40 per cent of the population)
remains a critical stumbling block in the long drawn out negotiations on the
creation of a province or region amalgamating the Northern Province with parts or
the whole of the Eastern Province. The LTTE will accept nothing short of a separate
Tamil state. The deadlock over this issue continues to the present day. A section of
Muslims, led by the Sri Lanka Muslim Congress, has reacted to this by urging the
creation of a separate administrative unit in the Eastern Province in which the
Muslims would constitute a majority. A more elaborate version of this demand calls
for a Muslim province with its main base in the Eastern Province, but with enclaves
or sub-units elsewhere such as in the Mannar district of the Northern Province.
Sri Lanka
One of the unfortunate consequences of concentrating attention on district and

provincial units, and on supra-provincial units, has been the neglect of one of the
less controversial and more viable forms of decentralization – local government
institutions at the municipal and urban council levels and village council levels. The
three principal municipalities, Colombo, Kandy and Galle, were established in
1865–1866, while the origins of smaller urban and town councils and village coun-
cils date back to the early 20th century. The last comprehensive examination of local
231
government institutions and its problems took place as early as 1954–1955.

Thereafter, largely because of the agitation of Tamil parties for the creation of dis-
trict and provincial councils, the focus has been almost exclusively on the second
tier of government.
The decision of the 1980 Presidential Commission on development councils to
abolish village councils and transfer their functions to local level units of the District
Development Councils and to informal (i.e., theoretically non-political) village orga-
nizations, did not yield any of the anticipated benefits. That decision was based on
a mixture of political considerations and a misplaced idealism. The TULF, who
argued in favour, hoped to strengthen the district councils, and to bring all other
local government institutions under the supervision of district councils. Others
argued that the administrative costs of running these village councils had increased
to the point where little money was left for development programmes. In addition
there was the belief that informal but popular village bodies could cut across party
alignments and bring people of the village together for common development pro-
jects; in other words, that they would serve as means of de-politicizing the village
between national and district council elections. It soon became clear that the mech-
anisms and informal institutions substituted for village councils did not provide
either the administrative efficiency or the anticipated responsiveness to local needs.
Village councils were re-established in 1988–1989 and the first elections were held
in 1991. Nevertheless there has been no systematic attempt to examine the financial
viability of village and urban councils, or the power, functions and resources of
municipalities. While Sri Lanka has avoided the worst features of South Asian urban-
ization so far, its continued ability to do so will depend very much on the effective
functioning of its local government institutions, especially its municipalities.
The External Factor
India has had three roles in Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict. The first, which was inten-
sified with Indira Gandhi’s return to power in 1980, was that of a covert supporter
of Sri Lankan Tamil political activists operating in India. This covert support con-
tinued until 1987. Second, the Tamil Nadu factor forms an important facet of
India’s complex role in Sri Lankan affairs. Seldom has a constituent unit (a province
or a state) of one country influenced the relationship between it and a neighbour-
ing country with such intensity. The India-Tamil Nadu-Sri Lanka relationship is thus
unique in international affairs. Admittedly India’s own role is more complex than
Sri Lanka
merely reacting to the pressures of domestic policies in Tamil Nadu. Nevertheless,

concerns about the latter have been an important consideration. Tamil Nadu gov-
ernments have provided Sri Lankan Tamil separatist activists with sanctuaries, train-
ing and bases. The Indian central Government was involved in this, and also toler-
ated the provision of training facilities and the existence of camps and bases in other
parts of the country. These actions started with Indira Gandhi in the early 1980s,
well before the riots of July 1983 in Sri Lanka.
232
India’s third role – that of mediator – began under Mrs Gandhi as a calculated
political response to the anti-Tamil riots of July 1983 in Sri Lanka; the policy was
continued under Rajiv Gandhi. India’s policy shifted from mediator to active par-
ticipant in late 1987 and continued until the mid-1990s. That too is almost unique
in the history of mediation in ethnic conflict: never before, or very rarely indeed,
has a mediator taken on the role of combatant, and waged a war against sections of
a minority, for which it was a presumed guardian, and in a neighbouring state at
that.
Indian intervention began with giving aid to one or other of the Tamil separatist
groups. This assistance was given, in part, to sustain the struggle to the point of com-
pelling or persuading the Sri Lanka Government to alter its strategy, and to negoti-
ate a settlement under Indian auspices. Second, in 1987 the Indian Government
sought to resolve the conflict itself, by acting as a mediator, applying sanctions to
one, some or all parties to the conflict, and underwriting a settlement. In the
process the Indians became a common enemy to all or some of the warring factions.
The Indian intervention reveals how the consequences of the internationalization
of an ethnic conflict are not necessarily those that the affected parties generally
anticipate; indeed, the intervention was not advantageous to the presumed benefi-
ciaries. On the contrary, internationalization actually prolonged the conflict and
made many of the parties to the conflict more intractable. Again, when large regional
or global powers enter a domestic ethnic dispute playing the role of sponsors and
suppliers, the interests of the external contenders may supersede the original issues
in the conflict.
The hard lesson that emerges from India’s mediation and interventionist role in
Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict is that most outside powers have less to offer by way of
example from their own political system and political experience than they think
they do. To be drawn into an ethnic conflict in a neighbouring state is the worst mis-
take that a regional power can make, as Israel and Syria have learned in Lebanon.
The reluctance of the Sri Lankan Government to consider, much less accept, an-
other episode of external mediation stems from the pronounced failure of Indian
mediation, and the heavy political costs it inflicted on Sri Lanka’s democratic sys-
tem.
Sri Lanka
233
4.6 Human Rights
Instruments
Yash Ghai
Democratic procedures and values provide the means to

deal sensibly and fairly with civil conflicts. But for
democracy to serve as the framework for the peaceful
coexistence of communities, it has to be defined in both
procedural and substantive terms. Herein lies the
importance of legal and constitutional norms, elaborated in
recent years for the purpose of defining and protecting
rights.
4.6.1 Introduction
4.6.2–4.6.3 Instruments that protect minority rights
4.6.4 Protecting women’s rights
4.6.5 Recent initiatives
4.6.6 Conclusion
4.6.1 Introduction
Many of today’s most pressing issues – human rights, self-de-
termination, nationalism, international security and co-opera-
tion – are all connected with identity and ethnicity. In trying to
formulate policies to deal with such issues, one particular diffi-
culty is that religious or ethnic claims and identities are not
always negative. Indeed, concession to some of these claims may
help to allay minority fears and give them a sense of security.
Furthermore, religious and ethnic affiliations may be important
to the psychic and moral well-being of communities, which it
would be wrong to deny. Thus a balance needs to be struck
between the problems that ethnic, religious and national loyal-
ties can cause and the difficulties that can result from their ob-
struction. Striking this balance presents one of the fundamental
challenges of our time: the reconceptualization of the state to
accommodate a diversity of cultures, religion, languages and
groups.
Sometimes the difficulty in agreeing on a policy arises from a
disagreement on values. Tensions frequently exist between those
234
who espouse individual claims and preferences, and those who

support religious and ethnic principles. For example, the accep-
tance of group rights, which frequently helps to resolve some
claims, is problematic with respect to individual rights. In sever-
al Commonwealth countries, such problems have arisen in an
acute form. The position women occupy under group (customa-
ry) law is often subordinate to that of men: they suffer discrimi-
nation with respect to the care and custody of children, mar-
riage laws, division of labour, or entitlement to property or inhe-
ritance (as in India, South Africa, Canada, and many other states
that recognize personal or customary law). Difficulties can also
arise in the relations between members and non-members of
groups that are given special treatment (as in Quebec). Even
when a clear and effective policy can be discerned, a small dissi-
dent group intent on preventing or upsetting a settlement may
frustrate implementation. A prime illustration is the persistent
opposition to, or frustration of, a settlement in Sri Lanka by ex-
tremist groups within the Tamils and Sinhalese communities.
The relationship of such conflicts to democracy is often com- Legal and
plex. Democratic ideas of self-determination have promoted constitutional norms
quests by various communities within a state to emphasize their
that define and
differences from other groups in order to establish their claim
as a separate “people”. Crude claims of majoritarianism have led protect rights provide
to the oppression of minorities, leading to the suppression of a substantive
their rights and their alienation from the state. There is no framework for the
doubt, however, that democratic procedures and values also
operation of
provide the means to deal sensibly and fairly with conflicts. But
democracy can only provide a useful framework for the negotia- democracy and place
tion and settlement of conflict if it is defined in both proce- a limit on the power
dural and substantive terms. This is why legal and constitutional of the majority.
norms that define and protect rights are so important. Based on
principles of fairness, social justice and good practice, they pro-
vide a substantive framework for the operation of democracy
and place a limit on the power of the majority.
The entitlement to democracy itself is now a principle that
underlies norms that provide the framework for addressing eth-
nic and other conflicts. The principle of self-determination, rec-
ognized in the UN Charter as the basis of decolonization, was
extended to “all peoples” in two covenants in 1966 – the Inter-
national Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (hereafter ICCPR)
and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural
Rights. Together with the Universal Declaration of Human Rights
these form the International Bill of Rights.
235
4.6 Human Rights
Instruments
The will of the people shall be the basis of the authority of

government; this will be expressed in periodic and genuine
elections which shall be by universal and equal suffrage and
shall be held by secret vote or by equivalent free voting procedures.
Everyone has a right to take part in the government of his
country, directly or through freely chosen representatives.
Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article 21
International norms have developed through both the elabo-

ration of these general human rights norms as well as the enun-
ciation of specific instruments dealing with minorities, groups or
anti-discrimination. Below we outline some of the major instru-
ments that have been formulated to define and protect human
rights.
4.6.2 Instruments dealing with religious and ethnic
persecution
The first major instrument to deal with religious and ethnic
bigotry and persecution was the Convention on the Prevention and
Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (1948), which intended to “lib-
erate mankind from such an odious scourge”. It declared geno-
cide a crime under international law (Art. I). Genocide may be
punished in the courts of the state where the offence was com-
mitted or by an international penal tribunal.
Genocide: acts committed with a view to “destroy, in whole or in

part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group as such: (a)
killing members of a group; (b) causing serious bodily or mental
harm to members of the group; (c) deliberately inflicting on the
group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical
destruction in whole or in part; (d) imposing measures intended
to prevent birth within that group; or (e) forcibly transferring
children of the group to another group” .
Article II
Another instrument that penalizes, under international law,

conduct directed against an ethnic group is the International
Convention on the Suppression and Punishment of the Crime of Apart-
heid (1973).
Apartheid: the establishment and maintaining of “domination

by one racial group of persons over any other racial group of
persons and systematically oppressing them” by: (a) denial to
236
members of the second group right to life and liberty of person

(including murder or other forms of inhuman treatment); (b)
deliberate imposition on a racial group of living conditions
calculated to cause their physical destruction; (c) deny to the
group rights to participate in the political, social, economic and
cultural life of the country, and restrictions on work, trade
union activities, movement, freedom of expression, etc; (d) the
division of the population along racial lines, including the
prohibition of mixed marriages; (e) exploitation of the labour of
one group, in particular through forced labour; and persecution
of groups and individuals who oppose apartheid.
Article II
Such offences may be tried by the courts of any signatory state

that may acquire jurisdiction over the accused or by an interna-
tional penal tribunal (Art. V).
These two conventions are supplemented by the more general
concept of crimes against humanity as part of customary inter-
national law (which constitute, among other things, the juris-
diction of the Yugoslavia and Rwanda war crimes tribunals).
These instruments and rules essentially aim at prohibiting ex-
treme forms of persecution, but they have not been particularly
successful. Furthermore, they do not provide any positive rights
to minorities. Indeed, the development of international law has
been marked by significant ambivalence regarding the positive
obligations of states with respect to persons or communities be-
longing to minority language, religious or ethnic groups. There
has been reluctance, on the one hand, to recognize these com-
munities as such, preferring to refer to the rights of persons be-
longing to such communities (which may not be sufficient to ac-
commodate all the needs of the community). On the other
hand, there has been a reluctance to impose any positive oblig-
ations on the state to protect the interests of these communities;
rather it is considered sufficient that there should be a general
prohibition of discrimination against them, an attitude typified
by Article 27 of the ICCPR:
In those States in which ethnic, religious or linguistic minorities

exist, persons belonging to such minorities should not be denied
the right, in community with the other members of their group,
to enjoy their own culture, to profess and practice their own
religion, or to use their own language.
ICCPR, Article 27
237
4.6 Human Rights
Instruments
4.6.3 Specific instruments to protect minorities

All UN and regional instruments on rights proclaim the
equality of all persons, regardless, inter alia, of race or religion;
prohibit discrimination in the enjoyment of rights and free-
doms; and guarantee the freedom of religion and conscience.
The horrendous persecution on the basis of religion or ethni-
city has changed perspectives somewhat, as has a growing con-
cern, particularly in the west, with identity politics.
This change in perspective is reflected in several develop-
ments. First, the UN Committee on Human Rights has begun to
give a more “positive” orientation to Article 27 of the ICCPR. It
now holds the view that, in some instances, the state must take
positive steps to ensure the effective enjoyment of rights guar-
anteed in the article. Also, it is prepared to hold, that, in some
cases at least, the identity of a community can only be preserved
by the recognition of what may be called the collective rights of
the community (see its General Comment on Article 27 (1994)).
Second, realizing that negative obligations on the state to pro-
tect minorities were not sufficient in all instances, the interna-
tional community formulated specific instruments for minori-
ties. One of the earliest of these was the International Convention
on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (1965),
which condemns racial discrimination of any kind which has the
purpose or effect of nullifying or impairing the recognition,
enjoyment or exercise, on an equal footing, of human rights and
fundamental freedoms in the political, economic, social, cultur-
al or any other field of public life (Art. 1). Signatory states con-
demn all propaganda and all organizations that are based on
ideas or theories of superiority of one race or group of persons
of one colour or ethnic origin, or which attempt to justify or pro-
mote racial hatred and discrimination in any form. States have
to take “immediate and positive steps” to eradicate all incitem-
ent to, or acts of, such discrimination (Art. 4). The state not only
has to ensure that its own laws and practices comply with this
obligation, but also that it does not sponsor, defend or support
racial discrimination by any persons or organizations (Art. 2 (a)
and (b)). It includes the positive duty on states to encourage,
where appropriate, integrationist multi-racial organizations and
movements and other means of eliminating barriers between
races, and to discourage anything which tends to strengthen
racial division (Art. 2(e)).
In 1981, the General Assembly adopted the Declaration on the
Elimination of All Forms of Intolerance and of Discrimination Based on
Religion or Belief.
238
Religion or belief, for any one who professes either, is one of the
fundamental elements in his conception of life and that freedom
of religion should be fully respected and guaranteed.
Preamble
The expression “freedom of religion or conscience” is given a

broad meaning to encompass worship and the right to assemble
for purpose of worship; to establish and maintain appropriate
charitable or humanitarian institutions; publications; instruc-
tions in belief; and to establish contact with individuals and insti-
tutions in matters of religion or belief at the national and inter-
national levels (Art. 6). The Declaration prohibits discrimination
on the grounds of religion, any infringement of the right to reli-
gion or conscience, or coercion, which would impair a person’s
freedom to have a religion or belief (Art. 1). It requires that par-
ents bring up children “in a spirit of understanding, tolerance,
friendship among peoples, peace and universal brotherhood,
respect for freedom of belief and belief of others, and in full
consciousness that his energy and talents should be devoted to
the service of his fellow men” (Art. 5(3)). The Declaration
makes clear that the duty of the state is not merely the negative
one to prevent discrimination, but that the state also has a positive
obligation to ensure conditions in which tolerance can flourish.
The UNESCO Convention against Discrimination in Education
(1960) not only prohibits discrimination in access to education
on grounds of inter alia race or religion, but also requires signa-
tory states to direct education to the full development of the hu-
man personality and to the strengthening of respect for human
rights and fundamental freedoms; and to the promotion of un-
derstanding, tolerance and friendship among all nations, racial
or religious groups (Art. 5(1)(a)). It also requires states to per-
mit members of minorities to have their own schools and, under
certain circumstances, education in their own language (Art. 5
(1)(c)).
4.6.4 Protecting women’s rights
An instrument of particular significance is the Convention on
the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women
(CEDAW, 1979). Although not directly concerned with discrim-
ination or persecution on religious or racial grounds, its norms
establish standards for the treatment of women (particularly,
but not only, in equality with men) which have profound effects
on religious dogma and practice. Women are guaranteed equal
rights with men:
239
4.6 Human Rights
Instruments
The “recognition, enjoyment or exercise by women, irrespective of

their marital status, on a basis of equality of men and women,
of human rights and fundamental freedoms in the political,
economic, social, cultural, civil or any other field.”
Article 1
States have undertaken, inter alia, to refrain from engaging in

any act or practice of discrimination against women and to en-
sure that all public authorities and institutions act in conformity
with this obligation (Art. 2(d)). States have to take all appropri-
ate measures to modify the social and cultural patterns of con-
duct of men and women, with a view to achieving the elimina-
tion of prejudices and customary and other practices which are
based on the idea of the inferiority or the superiority of either
of the sexes or on the stereotyped roles for men and women
(Art. 5(a)). Women must be guaranteed the same legal capacity
as men (Art. 15). Women must also be granted the right freely
to choose a spouse and to enter into marriage only with their
free and full consent, and equal rights in marriage (Art. 16).
4.6.5 Recent initiatives
Attempts have been made in recent years to give some over-
arching unity or coherence to these developments for the pro-
tection of minorities, of which two are noteworthy. The more ge-
neral of the two is the Declaration on the Rights of Persons Belonging
to National or Ethnic, Religious and Linguistic Minorities, adopted by
the UN General Assembly in 1992. In the Preamble, the General
Assembly states that the “promotion and protection of persons
belonging to national or ethnic, religious and linguistic minori-
ties contribute to the political and social stability of states in
which they live”. The Declaration requires that minorities be al-
lowed full participation in public affairs. There is a special em-
phasis on the rights of minorities to practice and develop their
culture. For example, states are required to take “measures in
the field of education, in order to encourage knowledge of the
history, traditions, language and culture of minorities” (Art. 4).
States shall “protect the existence and the national or ethnic,

cultural and religious identity of minorities within their
respective territories, and shall encourage conditions for the
promotion of that identity” .
Article 1
240
States are required to “take appropriate measures so that,

whenever possible, persons belonging to minorities have
adequate opportunities to learn their mother tongue or to have
instruction in their mother tongue”.
Article 3
The other major initiative is the protection of the rights of

indigenous peoples. A convention for the protection of indige-
nous peoples was adopted as early as 1959 under the auspices of
the ILO. However, with the growing consciousness and cultural
pride among indigenous peoples, the 1959 convention began to
be resented for its patronizing and assimilationalist approach.
Consequently a new ILO instrument, the Convention Concerning
Indigenous and Tribal Peoples in Independent Countries was adopted
in 1991. The principal objective is to ensure equal rights for
indigenous peoples with the rest of the population of the coun-
try. However this equality is to be achieved “in a manner compa-
tible with their aspirations and way of life” (Art. 2). Throughout
there is an emphasis on the preservation and integrity of their
culture and way of life. The participation of indigenous peoples
in decisions that affect them is another principal theme. These
objectives flow from recognition of the distinctive contributions
of indigenous and tribal peoples to the cultural diversity and so-
cial and ecological harmony of humankind.
Of regional instruments, the most significant is the Framework
Convention for the Protection of National Minorities of the Council of
Europe (1994). It is based on assumptions that: (a) “upheavals of
European history have shown that the protection of national
minorities is essential to stability, democratic security and peace”;
(b) “a pluralistic and genuinely democratic society should not
only respect the ethnic, linguistic and religious identity of each
person belonging to a national minority, but also create appro-
priate conditions enabling them to express, preserve and devel-
op this identity”; (c) “the creation of a climate of tolerance and
dialogue is necessary to enable cultural diversity to be a source
and a factor, not of division, but of enrichment of each society”;
and (d) protection of minorities forms an integral part of the
international protection of human rights, and thus of in-
ternational co-operation.
Its substantive provisions emphasize the guarantee of individ-
ual rights as well as collective rights; equality, including special
measures if necessary; culture and identity, prohibiting forcible
241
4.6 Human Rights
Instruments
assimilation; promotion of cultural understandings and toler-

ance, particularly in education, media and culture; civil and po-
litical rights, including rights to establish institutions and associ-
ations; media for freedom of expression; the right to use minor-
ity languages; education about minority cultures; and the right
of minorities to establish contacts with kin groups in other sta-
tes. Also, it provides for the regional supervision of these provi-
sions in member states.
4.6.6 Conclusion
These developments toward the recognition of group rights
and the rights of the community are to be welcomed. They pro-
vide both a framework for negotiations to end conflicts as well as
some solutions for such conflicts. They also suggest ways in
which the state could be restructured. But as easy solutions can
be sought in the recognition of group rights, especially when
there is international mediation, it is equally important to realize
that most of these instruments place a primary value on human
rights. Human rights emphasize our commonality and our
solidarity. Solutions that are based excessively on groups and
their own sense of propriety tend to fragment people. They also
tend to place in danger the rights of certain sections of persons
within the group itself (such as women and children), as well as
the rights of persons outside the group. Such denials of rights
can be a further cause of conflict. The balance between hu-
man/individual rights and group rights needs to be established
with great care and with full regard to human dignity and soli-
darity.

Cassesse, Antonio. 1995. Self-Determination of Peoples: A Legal
Appraisal. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Packer, J. and K. Myntt. eds. 1993. Protection of Ethnic and
Linguistic Minorities in Europe. Abo: Abo Academy University.
Thornberry, Patrick. 1991. International Law and Rights of
Minorities. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
United Nations. 1989. A Compilation of Human Rights
Instruments. Geneva: United Nations.
242
4.7 Language Policy for Rasma Karklins

Multi-Ethnic Societies
4.7 Language Policy for Multi-Ethnic Societies
The 20th century has been marked by innumerable ethnic

conflicts based on the quest for native language rights. As
with other issues of ethnicity, language diversity cannot
simply be ignored. Indeed, demands for pluralist language
policy are likely to accelerate in the future, and policy-
makers will need to be prepared to accommodate language
diversity while still promoting overall integration.
4.7.1 Why language policy matters

4.7.2 Assimilation or pluralism
4.7.3–4.7.4 Advantages and drawbacks of language pluralism
4.7.5 Language boards
4.7.6 Comparative lessons
Most states in the contemporary world are multi-ethnic and

multilingual. Consequently, policy-makers have to decide how to
accommodate language diversity in a way that promotes rather
than hinders overall integration. But what is the best and most
democratic language policy? Is it one that promotes cultural
assimilation or is it language pluralism? What are the political
consequences of pursuing one or the other policy?
Some answers can be found, first, by looking at the compara-
tive experience of multilingual states and second, by analysing
the specific history and context of each particular case. As a rule,
ethnic harmony is promoted if new states adopt a policy of cul-
tural pluralism that recognizes the language rights of minorities
while at the same timing to form a common civic and cultural
identity. Yet circumstances and ethnic groups differ. Immigrant
groups, for example, are far more accepting of language assimi-
lation than are indigenous minorities or regional sub-nations. In
addition, the rights of the latter are protected more thoroughly
by international covenants and by international precedents. For
this discussion, most of the propositions made relate to indige-
nous minorities or sub-nations of the state in question.
243
4.7 Language Policy for
4.7.1 Why does language policy matter?

If a state’s population consists of two or more language
groups, policy-makers unavoidably have to make choices, whether
they acknowledge this fact or not. In a multilingual state, lan-
guage use is not just a private matter, since a particular language
is used in any public communication. The central issue is which
language or languages are used officially in the public sphere,
i.e., in public education, state administration, the army, the
courts and so on. Is one language designated as the state lan-
guage, or are other languages given some space (either region-
ally, or in certain spheres such as education)? The state must
decide on these issues, and its decisions will affect the power and
identity of linguistic groups; this is the “politics of language”. But
why does language matter so much?
The central issue is First, there is the psychological role that language plays: it ties
which language or into the self-esteem and pride of groups and individuals. This is
especially true for smaller nationalities. Experts on the politics
languages are used
of multilingualism note that the status of the indigenous lan-
officially in the public guage is seen by emerging nations as a symbol of a new-found
sphere, i.e., in public group dignity. The fate of a language has consequences for en-
education, state tire cultures, which may become endangered if that language is
not used. In order for a language to survive, it must be used in
administration, the
many domains, including schools, the media and public inter-
army, the courts and action. Yet, while it is important to avoid raising cultural anxiety,
so on. it is also important to realize that the status of cultures reflects
overall political power. Ethnic groups, and especially larger na-
tionalities or sub-nations, want to exercise some degree of self-
rule and avoid subordination. Native speakers of a dominant
language gain certain social and career benefits; minorities, too,
want equal opportunities.
Although language often is seen as having primarily a cultur-
al significance, it also has a more practical value in a modern
state. Language policy affects social and political access to
careers and public goods. Which language is used when a citizen
encounters public servants, and which language is used in tax
forms or other papers produced by the state bureaucracy?
Which language is used if one needs to call an ambulance or a
fire fighter or seek assistance from police or social services? In
modern states the sphere of interaction between citizens and
the state is getting broader rather than narrower, and thus the
scope of language use is expanding as well. The language that is
used on electoral ballots, in parliamentary debates, or when the
state publishes laws and regulations is also important, as it
244

impacts on a citizen’s ability to participate in his or her commu-

nity. In other words, if a citizen has to use a non-native language
in interactions with the state, this will influence the extent of his
or her attachment to or alienation from the state.
Other language issues, regulated by the state and tied to iden-
tity, include the naming of streets or public buildings, and the
use of personal names. The latter seems like an innocuous issue,
but it can be a very sensitive topic. For example, the forced “Bul-
garization” of Turkic and Muslim names by the communist gov-
ernment of Bulgaria in the 1970s incited ethnic conflict that cul-
minated in the exodus of a large part of the Turkic minority. A
less dramatic case involved the bureaucratic “Russianization” of
personal names in the Soviet Union by requiring non-Russian
minorities to adhere to the Russian tradition of using a patrony-
mic (a name derived from one’s father). Italy’s outlawing of the
German spelling of personal names in South Tyrol encouraged
terrorism. Interestingly, the same policy applied in the Alsace
region of France was relatively uncontroversial. This illustrates
that the same policy can trigger different reactions in different
contexts and that it is essential to examine the local context
when analysing the importance of a particular issue in a specific
state. In sum, there are a number of political, economic, and
psychological factors that must be taken into account in forming
language policy. In addition, it should be noted that official pol-
icy can do little to influence what happens when languages are
used informally, in personal interactions.
4.7.2 Assimilation or pluralism
Language pluralism is the most democratic approach for mul-
tilingual societies; but there are alternative policies as well. Many
states that have engaged in nation building in modern times
have had either an explicit or implicit policy of language assimi-
lation. The US, for example, presents a case where language as-
similation for the sake of civic integration has been an explicit
policy; France, on the other hand, has had an implicit policy.
Since the French Revolution, becoming a French citizen has
meant that French was the only language used in schools, admi-
nistration, the army, and public life in general. While the domi-
nance of the French language in France appears “natural”
today, it is in fact the result of deliberate ethnic engineering.
Despite some minority protest, it has been a successful policy of
assimilation. Similar examples of assimilationist success can be
found in other parts of the world, but one also can find just as
245
many examples of assimilationist failure. Assimilation is most

likely to fail if it is involuntary and if it involves territorially based
minorities. Assimilation is no panacea, as it involves the loss of
one identity for the sake of another.
Language pluralism, by contrast, begins with the assumption
that assimilation is likely to lead to a backlash. It assumes that
every group – as a group – wants to retain its identity, has the
right to do so, and will fight to do so. To avoid the latter, and to
create civic consensus, pluralists argue that, parallel with creat-
ing a joint identity, policy-makers need to grant convincing guar-
antees for the retention of sub-cultures. Pluralists safeguard the
parallel use of two or more languages by saying “let us each re-
tain our own language in certain spheres, such as schools, but let
us also have a common language for joint activities, especially in
civic life”.
Language is a core issue in the politics of ethnicity. Fortuna-
tely, it is an easier issue to deal with than some other ethnic issues
because language allows for multiple identities. Language
knowledge is not an exclusive or immutable ethnic “given” sim-
ilar to religion or race. People can speak several languages, and
several languages can coexist. Specific arrangements differ from
case to case, but all involve a two-track policy whereby one track
gives space and guarantees for minority languages, and the
other track promotes the learning of one or several state lan-
guages to allow communication and enhance mutual understan-
ding.
Language conflicts can be managed by providing some spheres
where minority languages are freely used and by giving in-
centives to learn other languages, especially a state language.
People have a remarkable ability to learn languages when it is to
their advantage to do so. It is commonplace in Europe and
other parts of the world for people to speak more than one lan-
guage. This can be promoted by an appropriate social reward
structure, for example by making language facility a criterion for
professional qualification and promotion.
4.7.3 Advantages of language pluralism
The advantage of a pluralist language policy is that, by grant-
ing minorities space within a society’s culture, it represents both
a policy of practical and symbolic inclusion. When two or more
languages are accommodated in public schools or in other pub-
lic domains, a state is demonstrating that there are “win-win” sit-
uations in ethnic politics. In this way, language pluralism has the
246

potential of preventing the ethnic polarization of the popula-

tion. In addition, by demonstrating a constructive solution to
ethnic issues in one sphere, it can have a spillover effect to other
spheres of ethnic relations.
Switzerland is a classic example of how culturally diverse groups
can coexist amicably and how the accommodation of diversity
can be a source of political consensus. Rather than trying to melt
ethnic groups into a new cultural whole, the Swiss have used the
affirmation of distinctiveness to bind them into a political unity.
Citizens need to have a shared sense of belonging; in fact, this is
the classic definition of a nation. A sense of belonging, however,
does not mean that a nation needs to be culturally homogenous.
4.7.4 Potential drawbacks
Pluralist language policies need to be developed carefully to
avoid any negative consequences. One potential problem is that
language differentiation can be perceived as negative discrimi-
nation. The politics of plurality must make sure that separate
ethnic institutions, such as minority schools or separate adminis-
trative offices, preserve rather than undermine the rights of
minorities. Ethnic accord is most likely to be enhanced if
such arrangements are voluntary and if ethnic groups are
autonomous in deciding on specific programmes and approaches.
Another possible limitation of language pluralism is that it
can turn into language separatism, i.e., the undermining of a
common language. This has been a danger in post-Soviet Latvia
and Estonia where a segment of the Russian settlers refuse to
learn the local languages. The citizenry needs a common lan-
guage, both literally and figuratively, to promote mutual under-
standing and to form and nurture one civic nation. Pluralist lan-
guage policies require a careful balancing of state support for
both the distinct languages of minorities and the common state
language.
4.7.5 Language boards
When a new policy is being explored or implemented a spe-
cial state language board needs to be created. Institutional vari-
ants of such boards have been instrumental in working out new
language policies in Quebec, Catalonia, and the Baltic States,
for example. Such boards include experts who analyse the socio-
lingual situation, draft policy proposals, and organize language
learning programmes. The latter are especially important if a
new language policy includes language requirements for civil
247
service jobs, licensing or naturalization. Once a state policy

openly acknowledges that a certain language facility is required
for access to public goods, it has a duty to assist and monitor its
acquisition.
In the early stages of mapping out a new language policy,
research needs to examine patterns of language behaviour, atti-
tudes within language groups and interactions between groups.
Social scientists should be consulted about the role that lan-
guage plays in the identity of a particular group and how pow-
erful the symbolic meaning of language is for that community.
The importance of language differs from group to group: in some
cases a nationality defines itself primarily by its distinct language;
in other cases language is less significant than other ethnic
markers such as religion or territorial homelands. The specific
political context of language policy also needs to be taken into
account. If there have been recent cases of language repression,
such as is the case in the non-Russian areas of the former Soviet
Union, public debates should be encouraged to deal with this
legacy and to decide what sort of remedial action to take. Major
shifts in language policy need broad public support.
The creation of a state language board with a permanent staff
as well as expert commissions requires significant resources, as
do language learning programmes. In addition, language plura-
lism has a cost in terms of parallel publication of state docu-
ments in more than one language.
4.7.6 Comparative lessons
In cases where language groups are territorially rooted, lan-
guage pluralism tends to be linked with territorial autonomy.
The dignity of language groups can be enhanced by symbolic re-
cognition of their distinctiveness, for example through the con-
stitution, as is the case in Belgium, and as has been ardently pur-
sued by the Quebecois. In the case of the Baltic States, special
language laws passed at the time of the restoration of indepen-
dence served as reassurance to the indigenous Baltic nations
that their native languages would be protected in the future.
Such formal legal reassurance is politically significant even when
it is clear that much more needs to be done to assure language
equity in practice.
When new states are constituted there may be unique oppor-
tunities to resolve ethnic conflicts by negotiating an agreement
that involves trade-offs for various groups. For example, it may
be possible to negotiate more language autonomy in return for
248

less territorial self-rule. Newly independent Malaysia illustrated

a successfully negotiated quid pro quo according to which the
Chinese settlers accepted the public dominance of the Malay
language in return for a liberal naturalization policy. In this case
it was also significant that the Chinese diaspora has had alterna-
tive ways to safeguard the survival of their language, through
contacts with Chinese communities abroad, importing of books,
and sending Chinese students to universities abroad.
The collapse of the Soviet Union and the death of Franco
provide two recent examples of how democratization has led to
more rights for minority languages. The two previously domi-
nant languages, Russian and Spanish respectively, had to accom-
modate indigenous regional languages such as Latvian and Ca-
talan. These cases also illustrate that language changes take time
since subgroups of the population have to learn new languages.
Since 1991, as Latvia has been restoring its independent state-
hood, it has faced several major issues with respect to language
policy. Most importantly, it has needed to reintroduce Latvian as
the language of state and public affairs, without undermining
the rights of Russophones. Also, it has needed to reintroduce
language rights for smaller minorities. In 1988, Russian was the
dominant language and Latvian was rarely used in official state
and public activities. In order to redress this situation Latvian
was made the formal state language in 1989 and was gradually
reintroduced in practice as well. A massive state-sponsored lan-
guage programme was begun to teach Latvian to Russian resi-
dents who in the past had relied on Russian as their only lan-
guage; another major language programme was launched in the
mid-1990s with the support of UNDP and several foreign aid
programmes. The rationale for encouraging Russian bilingual-
ism was that the Russian settlers needed to acquire Latvian in
order to be able to fully function in Latvia and also to prevent a
continuation of a situation where mostly bilingual Latvians had
to accommodate monolingual Russians. Subsequently, the role
and prestige of Latvian as the language of the land was slowly
increased by what can be seen as a kind of linguistic “affirmative
action”. Since the first language laws were adopted in 1988, sig-
nificant change has occurred; but it has been the result of great
effort by the State Language Board, the Ministry of Education,
and various minority cultural associations.
The logic of a democratic language policy is to protect the
weaker languages and the languages of minorities. In the case of
Latvia this meant that Latvian had to be promoted to reassert
249
the language rights of the indigenous nation, and the languages

of smaller minorities had to be recognized in schools and cul-
tural life. Latvia’s language policy since 1988 also included the
tenet that one minority group – the Russians – cannot assimilate
other minority groups within Latvia, as they had been doing un-
til then. Smaller minorities such as Poles, Jews, and Ukrainians,
were provided with native language schooling. Russians on their
part have been able to continue schooling in Russian-language
public schools.
Any shift in the hierarchy of languages takes time and has to
be undertaken with sensitivity. The case of Latvia illustrates a
two-track policy whereby one policy track aims at enhancing the
use of an official language as a tool of state-building and forma-
tion of a civic nation, and the other track maintains minority lan-
guage space, in this case primarily in the schools. This policy is
based on the assumption that trying to engineer total linguistic
homogeneity is impossible and politically dangerous. A pax lin-
guistica is possible only if all groups feel that their languages are
safeguarded. This is especially true in cases where one deals with
a territory that represents the only place where a certain lan-
guage is used; groups using a language that is used in kin-states
tend to be culturally less anxious.
Recent findings of social scientists emphasize the impact of
politics on the formation of ethnic identity and on the manage-
ment of ethnic conflict. Policy-makers typically aim for integra-
tion, but how is this vague term understood? Before policies are
chosen, the people making the decisions need to reflect on their
assumptions. All too often they implicitly assume that integra-
tion means assimilation. Comparative analysis shows that while
the integration of a state requires some commonality of lan-
guage, this can very well mean the accommodation of several pa-
rallel languages.

Druviete, Ina. 1997. “Linguistic Human Rights in the Baltic
States”, International Journal of the Sociology of Language, 127.
pp. 161–185.
Esman, Milton J. 1992. “The State and Language Policy”,
International Political Science Review, vol. 13, no. 4. pp.
381–396.
Horowitz, Donald L. 1985. Ethnic Groups in Conflict. Berkeley,
CA: University of California Press.
250

Fishman, Joshua A. 1989. Language and Ethnicity in Minority

Sociolinguistic Perspective. Clevedon, Avon: Multilingual
Matters.
Karklins, Rasma. 1994. Ethnopolitics and Transition to
Democracy: The Collapse of the USSR and Latvia. Washington,
DC: Johns Hopkins University Press.
Lijphart, Arend. 1977. Democracy in Plural Societies. New
Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Safran, William. 1992. “Language, Ideology, and State-
Building: A Comparison of Policies in France, Israel, and the
Soviet Union”, International Political Science Review, vol. 13,
no. 4. pp. 397–414.
Van Dyke, Vernon. 1985. Human Rights, Ethnicity, and
Discrimination. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press.
251
Michael Lund and

Carlos Santiso
National conferences and constituent assemblies have been

a widely used mechanism for bringing together political
groups to discuss and plan key aspects of a country’s future
development. They are a particularly useful means for
reaching consensus on the political and institutional shape
of a post-colonial or post-conflict state. In this section we
consider the objectives of a national conference, how a
national conference can be organized and implemented,
and its advantages and weaknesses. In the case study that
follows we look at how national conferences have impacted
on the political development of five Francophone African
countries.
4.8.1–4.8.2 What is a national conference?

4.8.3 Objectives
4.8.4 Implementation
4.8.5 Impact
Factsheet 2 Organizing a National Conference (pp. 260–261)
4.8.1 Introduction
Constituent assemblies were a common mechanism during
the post-World War Two “decolonization decades” to bring po-
liticians and constitutional experts together to write a new con-
stitution for an independent nation. India’s independence Con-
stitution, for example, was the result of three years of discussion
and debate at a constituent assembly comprising eminent jurists,
lawyers, academics and politicians. In other cases, such as Papua
New Guinea, the elected parliament from the colonial era re-
convened itself as a constituent assembly in 1975 to debate and
then formally adopt a constitution. Other attempts have been
less successful, such as the use of constituent assemblies to reach
consensus on key political conflicts in Sri Lanka (1972) or to
prepare an independence Constitution in Pakistan (1947–1954).
252
During the 1990s, however, there has been a new trend tow-
ards utilizing large national conferences, not as a means of
decolonization but as a mechanism for political transition to
democracy. The distinctive features of such national assemblies
are that they typically include wide representation from civil society;
are able to act with considerable autonomy from governments;
and have proved particularly useful in forging an internal con-
sensus on democratization and transition from conflict. This
type of national assembly was widely used in Francophone Africa
in the early 1990s as a means of harnessing pro-democracy
forces. It has proven to be a key mechanism in promoting demo-
cratic transition and in effecting substantive political change
(see Case Study National Conferences in Francophone Africa).
4.8.2 What is a national conference?
A national conference (or national debate, as it is referred to National conferences
in some countries) is a public forum, held over an extended pe- are designed typically
riod, at which representatives from key political and civic groups
to fulfil two goals:
are invited to discuss and develop a plan for the country’s polit-
ical future, preferably on a consensus basis. By convening a na- first, to address the
tional conference, the central government allows other political demands for political
groups to participate in a decision-making process, while still liberalization, by
maintaining its own authority and control. In agreeing to hold
being inclusive and
and participate in a national conference the central government
is not guaranteeing political freedom or the sharing of power highly visible,
with other political factions; rather it is agreeing to conduct a especially to the
nationwide political dialogue and ideally, to jointly plan steps international
toward increased political representation and liberalization.
community; and
National conferences are designed typically to fulfil two goals:
second, to achieve
first, to address the demands for political liberalization, by being
inclusive and highly visible, especially to the international com- gradual, “managed”
munity; and second, to achieve gradual, “managed” transition, transition, often with
often with the incumbent leadership believing that it can main- the incumbent
tain control over the process. In many African countries, for leadership believing
example, national conferences opened up previously one-party
systems by bringing together different actors to address the that it can maintain
country’s political problems, formulated new constitutional rules, control over the
and established electoral timetables. Some national conferences process.
even achieved peaceful alternations in power. In this way they
can be seen as an indigenously generated African contribution
to political institution building and regime transition.
National conferences in Africa were usually “one-off” assem-
blies representing a wide range of individuals and corporate in-
253
terests. They lasted from a few days to several months; contained

several hundred to several thousand delegates (i.e., 500 in Be-
nin, 1,200 in Congo, 4,000 in Zaire); and were often chaired by
a nominally neutral church leader. Occurring in 12 African
countries between 1990 and 1993, national conferences were
largely a Francophone phenomenon (Benin, Chad, Comoros,
Congo, Gabon, Mali, Niger, Togo and Zaire) although similar
bodies were also convened in Ethiopia in July 1991, in South
Africa in December 1991, and in Guinea-Bissau in 1992. Some
attempts were also made in Burkina Faso, Cameroon, Central
African Republic, and Guinea. In Côte d’Ivoire and Senegal the
national conference idea hardly took root, and multi-party elec-
tions only confirmed the old regimes in power. In the late 1990s,
there has been a resurgence of calls for national conferences to
build consensus on reforming state structures, initiating transi-
tions to democracy and resolving deep-rooted conflicts, such as
in Kenya in 1997 and in Nigeria after the death of Abacha in
June 1998. The case study that follows elaborates on the use and
results of national conferences in five Francophone countries.
4.8.3 Objectives of a national conference
Prevent conflict. Initially, the objective of a national confer-
ence may be simply to prevent conflict by motivating political
opposition groups to postpone violence while testing the gov-
ernment’s actual commitment to peaceful political change.
Build national consensus on a country’s political future. A
fundamental objective of a national conference is to provide an
opportunity for representatives of all sides to discuss, plan, and
reach a maximum level of consensus on a country’s political fu-
ture, hence addressing potential and actual political crises. Na-
tional conferences can be seen as democratic conflict manage-
ment tools designed to negotiate democratic transitions by esta-
blishing new rules and institutions. A national conference or na-
tional debate also may be interpreted as a preliminary move
toward limited democracy, in that it lays the foundation for craf-
ting more inclusive institutions and democratic mechanisms,
legalizing multipartism, drafting a new constitution and electo-
ral system, achieving peaceful alternation of power, and setting
a timetable for democratic transition.
Bolster citizen’s support for state institutions. A government
may initiate or agree to participate in a national conference to
bolster its own legitimacy and popular support by creating a
254
more inclusive political climate, thereby reducing internal desta-

bilizing factors. As a result of a national conference, the govern-
ment may direct state institutions to be more representative and
inclusive, in the hope that an increased perception of inclusive-
ness will in turn bolster citizens’ support for state institutions.
Non-government political groups participate in a national
conference in the hope of increasing the government’s account-
ability and expanding popular participation in the government.
“Level the playing-field”. In certain instances, a national con-
ference may be agreed to by parties in conflict when there is a
clear recognition or acknowledgement that the government in
power is no longer in a position to maintain the status quo; and
because of a demand by the opposition parties that the govern-
ment alone cannot deliver a solution to the conflict. In such a
case, an all-party national conference is often the first step on
the road to substantive negotiations. This process may be dis-
empowering for the government, as a common precondition for
such a conference is that all parties are regarded as equal in sta-
tus. The key objective is to “level the playing-field” between the
parties during the negotiations, with the ultimate aim being to
forge a national consensus.
Governments often show resistance to a national conference
because of this “equal status” dilemma, as it often has the effect
of lowering their own status and according real status to parties
that previously they may have regarded as enemies and “terror-
ists”. One way to address this obstacle is to structure the confer-
ence so that “nothing is agreed until everything is agreed”. This
can mean that the government does not feel that it loses its
power when the process begins, but only if an ultimate agree-
ment is reached which is acceptable to it. In many ways, it is crit-
ical that the negotiations simply commence, as that, in itself,
may be the start of the process of dealing with perceptions and
focusing on the real issues, both important objectives.
4.8.4 Implementation
Prerequisites. Prior to a national conference, multipartism, es-
pecially the legalization of opposition parties, must be allowed.
Freedom of association, speech and assembly must be guaranteed. In
addition, the media must be involved to monitor and report on
the events.
Organizers. While governments generally take the initiative in
convening a national conference, internal and external pressu-
255
res often have a significant influence. A foreign third party

and/or domestic political pressure may play a role in convincing
the government to hold a conference. A national conference
can be organized by a committee consisting of members of vari-
ous political groups, including opposition groups, as well as gov-
ernment members and the international community.
Participants. Without the participation of members of the
existing central government, a national conference would have
little significance. To maximize the impact of the conference,
participants must include representatives of the key social, reli-
gious, professional, and political interest groups who wish to participate
in the process. All possible participants should be invited to
endorse the results of the conference, within limits of reason.
The presence of international observers may be helpful in assur-
ing the process and results of the conference. Other participants
may include academics, local government personnel, represen-
tatives from non-governmental organizations, human rights
organizations, women’s associations, trade unions and religious
authorities, peasant groups and students, and aid donors.
Activities. Organizers of a national conference must agree on
and draft an agenda, clarify the issues to be discussed, and con-
vey the goals of the conference to all the participants. Depen-
ding on the outcome of the conference, it may be necessary for
parties to agree on additional issues as well as on the implemen-
tation of the conference agreement, if any is reached. In such a
situation, a follow-up or “implementation group” consisting of key
parties, and perhaps members of the international community,
should be formed and given the appropriate responsibility to
ensure that progress made at the conference is consolidated and
translated into action.
Cost considerations. Costs, such as preparation, transporta-
tion, and accommodation for the conference participants, may
be prohibitive. The primary cost of the conference should
always, if possible, be borne by the country itself. However, for-
eign financial assistance may often be necessary to organize a na-
tional conference and to help support its follow-up functions.
Conference requirements include technical assistance and logis-
tical support.
Set-up time. Several months are generally needed to plan and
organize a conference. National conferences can be held over a
long period (several months) or a short duration (from several
days to a few weeks). The comparative experience ranges widely:
256
Benin (convened in February 1990 and lasted nine days), Congo

(February 1991, three months), Togo (July 1991, one month),
Mali (July 1991, 15 days), Niger (July 1991, 40 days), Zaire
(August 1991, over a year, with interruptions), South Africa
(December 1991, two years with interruptions), and Chad
(January 1993, 11 weeks).
Timeframe. A national conference’s ability to design sustain-
able institutional structures and mechanisms for conflict man-
agement is key. The impact of a national conference may be sus-
tained if the conference is successfully used to develop a broad
consensus on the country’s “rules of the game” and political
future, and if genuine follow-on actions are initiated. Adherence
to the rules and mechanisms agreed upon largely depend on the
political commitment of the parties and the underlying balance
of power.
Limitations on government. Another consideration is the lim-
itations placed on the powers of the government during the
course of the conference. This may involve transitional arrange-
ments aimed at ensuring that no action is undertaken that may
affect the position of the parties or of the country. For example,
the army may be confined to barracks, there may be a cease-fire
agreement, or there may be a commitment to address key na-
tional issues such as education or economic policy jointly.
4.8.5 Impact
A national conference can have a different impact depending
on the situation it seeks to redress: by initiating political dialogue,
it can ease mounting tensions; as a conflict resolution mechanism, it
can provide a framework for agreeing on the country’s political
institutions and rules through a negotiated democratic transi-
tion; and as a conflict prevention forum, it can create the rules and
institutions for a stable democratic regime.
An announcement to organize a national conference can have
a short-term effect on preventing conflict by groups previously
involved in or planning political violence. These groups may
adopt a wait-and-see attitude, and divert their efforts toward
preparation for the conference. However, if no actual, substan-
tive political changes result, such groups may return to violence
with even greater zeal and additional disillusioned groups may
choose to join them.
National conferences resulted in changes in government in
Benin, Congo and Niger; and exerted significant political pres-
257
sure on incumbent rulers in Zaire and Togo. In many instances,

national conferences laid the ground work for competitive foun-
ding elections (Benin, Congo, Gabon, Mali, Niger and South Af-
rica). The comparative experience suggests the following les-
sons:
– A national conference can be a useful democratic conflict ma-
nagement tool, as it is both inclusive and participatory, and
initiates political dialogue to ease political crises;
– National conferences can have a significant impact on gov-
ernance, on the political system, and even on forming a new
political culture based on negotiation and compromise, by
persuading groups to participate more actively in the polit-
ical decision-making process;
– As a conflict resolution mechanism, a national conference
can have a decisive influence on negotiating democratic tran-
sitions from authoritarian rule to democratic pluralism. It
can provide a framework for achieving a peaceful alter-
nation in power, drafting a new constitution, designing a
new electoral system and setting a democratic timetable;
– A national conference can have a significant impact on pro-
moting democracy. However, to sustain the political results of
national conferences, the public must continue to pressure
the government to continue with democratic political de-
velopment;
– Through a national conference, political groups and rep-
resentatives from various sectors can negotiate a plan for
the country’s political future;
– A national conference may help state authorities gain greater
popular support and legitimacy, and instil greater public con-
fidence in the government. A national conference may lay
the groundwork for establishing a transitional government
and relatively open elections. An incumbent government
may also gain greater legitimacy by actively participating in
discussions on economic development, power-sharing
arrangements, human rights, country management, etc;
– Conference participants, representing a country’s diverse
political groups, can set guidelines for formulating new politi-
cal institutions, such as a legislature and an electoral system,
that could contribute to easing tensions among various
groups in the country. The result of a national conference
may be government agreement to direct state institutions
258
to be more representative and inclusive. Such agreements

may be made in the hope that the increased perception of
inclusiveness would in turn bolster citizens’ support for state
institutions;
– A national conference can help establish stable civilian gov-
ernance and control and, at least in the short term, reduce
the attraction of resorting to armed opposition for achiev-
ing political change.
259
ORGANIZING A NATIONAL CONFERENCE
National Conference: A national conference is a public forum at which repre-

sentatives from key political and civic groups are invited to discuss and develop a
plan for the country’s political future, preferably on a consensus basis. National
conferences are designed typically to fulfil two goals: first, to address the demands
for political liberalization; and second, to achieve gradual, “pacted” or “man-
aged” transition, often with the incumbent leadership believing that it can main-
tain control over the process.
IMPLEMENTATION
Sequence of Events:
■ Conferees acquire some degree of law-making authority;
■ Existing constitutions are revised, legislatures suspended or reformed, and
transitional governments established (in other words, a form of regime
transition by peaceful means);
■ Incumbent presidents are required to work with transitional governments or to
surrender significant powers;
■ Conference participants draft a new constitution, or establish an independent
commission to do so, and submit it to a referendum;
■ Free elections are held.
Prerequisites:
■ Multipartism, especially legalization of opposition parties;
■ Freedom of association, speech and assembly;
■ Media involvement to monitor and report on events.
Organizers:
■ Governments usually, often influenced by foreign third party and/or domestic
political pressure;
■ A committee, consisting of representatives of government, other political
groups and the international community can organize national conferences.
Participants:
■ Members of existing central government;
■ Representatives of key social, religious, professional, and political interest
groups;
■ Other participants can include academics, local government personnel, NGOs,
human rights organizations, women’s organizations, trade unions, students,
and aid donors;
■ International observers.
FACTSHEET 2 [P. 260]

ORGANIZING A NATIONAL CONFERENCE
Activities:
■ Draft an agenda; clarify issues to be discussed; convey conference goals to all
participants;
■ Depending on outcome, organize “implementation group” to ensure follow-up.
Cost Considerations:
■ Primary cost of conference organization (preparation, transportation,
accommodation, etc.) should be borne by the country itself, if possible;
■ Additional foreign financial assistance may be needed for organization and
follow-up.
Set-Up Time:
■ Usually several months are needed to organize;
■ Conference can last between several days and several months (Benin lasted
nine days; Congo, three months; South Africa, two years with interruptions).
A D V A N T A G E S
O F A N A T I O N A L
C O N F E R E N C E
Initiates new political dialogue:

■ Initiates political dialogue that is both inclusive and participatory, to ease
crises;
■ Can help develop a new political culture by persuading groups to participate
more actively in the political decision-making process and by emphasizing
compromise and negotiation.
Conflict management mechanism:
■ Can negotiate democratic transitions from authoritarian rule to democratic
pluralism;
■ Can provide a framework for achieving a peaceful alternation in power by
drafting a new constitution, designing a new electoral system, and establishing
a democratic timetable.
Conflict prevention forum:
■ Can help state authorities gain greater popular support and legitimacy, and instil
greater public confidence in the government.
■ Conference participants, representing a country’s diverse political groups, can
set guidelines for formulating new political institutions, such as a legislature and an
electoral system, that could contribute to easing tensions among various groups
in the country.


Baker, Bruce. 1998. “The Class of 1990: How Have the
Autocratic Leaders of Sub-Saharan Africa Fared under
Democratisation?”, Third World Quarterly, vol. 19, no. 1. pp.
115–127.
Boulaga, Eboussi. 1993. Les Conférences Nationales en Afrique
Noire. Paris: Editions Karthala.
Bratton, Michael and Nicolas van de Walle. 1997. Democratic
Experiment in Africa. Regime Transitions in Comparative
Perspective. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Clark, John F. 1994. “The National Conference as an
Instrument of Democratization in Francophone Africa”,
Journal of Third World Studies, vol. XI, no. 1. pp. 304–335.
Monga, Célestin. 1994. “National Conferences in
Francophone Africa: An Assessment”. Paper presented to the
Annual Conference of the School of Advanced International
Studies, SAIS, African Studies Programme, Washington DC,
15 April 1994.
Robinson, Pearl. 1994. “The National Conference
Phenomenon in Francophone Africa”, Comparative Studies in
Society and History, no. 36. pp. 575–610.
Wiseman, John. 1996. The New Struggle for Democracy in Africa.
Aldershot: Avebury.
262
Case Study: National Conferences Carlos Santiso

in Francophone Africa
NATIONAL CONFERENCES IN FRANCOPHONE AFRICA
In the late 1980s and early 1990s, sub-Saharan African countries were faced with
simultaneous pressures from within and from outside to liberalize their political sys-
tems. The economic crisis and the social unrest it created increased the demands on
the political elite to liberalize the political system. The international environment
also changed dramatically, as the Cold War and its system of “protectorates” in the
developing world gave way to a greater emphasis on democracy and democratiza-
tion, especially by donor governments and the international community.
Conferences in Francophone Africa

Confronted with strong resistance, increasing protest, and economic crises,
authoritarian rulers in many countries recognized the need to renew legitimacy by
opening up the political system and beginning a dialogue with opposition forces on
democratic reform. Citizens began to pressure single-party regimes to expose them-
selves to multi-party elections. One mechanism that helped facilitate this process was
the use of national conferences. These conferences opened up space for political
dialogue and consensus by including opposition political parties and civil society
organizations.
As we have discussed, a national conference can provide a forum for opposing
groups to discuss and negotiate political issues in a peaceful, structured environ-
ment, before a violent conflict erupts. In terms of conflict management, national
conferences can provide a structured institutional framework for negotiation and
consensus building and can be used to try to resolve growing political demands and
opposition to the current regime without resorting to repression and force.
In this section we look at the impact of national conferences in five Francopho-
ne countries.
Benin
By 1989, Benin was in a state of crisis. The economic and social unrest that broke
Northern Ireland
out in 1989 became a mass movement for democratic renewal. When government
repression failed to curb protest, the military-installed President Mathieu Kérékou,
who had been in power for 17 years, began to make political concessions, first by
appointing a prominent human rights activist and legal reformer to the govern-
ment, and second by announcing a broad amnesty for political opponents.
National
However, the demands for greater political liberalization were not assuaged.
Attempting to re-capture the political initiative, Kérékou announced in December
1989 that the People’s Revolutionary Party of Benin (PRPB) would abandon its
Marxist ideology and its monopoly on power by permitting the legal formation of
opposition parties, and by convening a national conference to discuss changes to
the Constitution.
265
Case Study: National
Conferences in
Francophone Africa
A commission was created to prepare a “national reconciliation conference” that

would include broad elements of political society to discuss the country’s future.
Participants would include the government, political parties (both from the nascent
opposition and the majority), trade unions, religious associations, army representa-
tives and women’s groups. Initially, the conference was to have no more than an
advisory role and was regarded by some in the opposition as a diversionary tactic. In
a strict legal sense, the conference had no constitutional standing at the outset.
Furthermore, none of the participants to the conference could claim a popular elec-
toral mandate because the membership of the conference was appointed rather than
elected. However, the appointment of the Archbishop of Cotonou as chairman of the
National Conferences in Francophone Africa
conference gave it a moral legitimacy.

By the time the national conference was convened in February 1990, Kérékou
had lost control of political events. He hoped that the national conference would
provide an opportunity for him to retain power and enlarge his power base by open-
ing up the political system and by making certain concessions. However, the 488 del-
egates soon declared themselves sovereign. Kérékou’s immediate response was to
describe this decision as a “civilian coup d’état”. In the end, however, he accepted the
decision given his weak position, the popular support enjoyed by the democratic
opposition, and the uncertain support of the army. The conference agreed to allow
Kérékou to retain the presidency, pending democratic presidential elections and
provided that he accepted the decision of the conference; it also decided that
Kérékou would not be prosecuted for any “crimes” he had committed while in
office.
Subsequently, the conference suspended the constitution, dissolved the National
Assembly, created the post of prime minister and appointed Nicéphore Soglo, a for-
mer World Bank official, as prime minister. A new constitution was drafted, which
allowed presidential term limits and multi-party elections. The Constitution was
approved by referendum in December 1990 by 96 per cent of the population.
Competitive parliamentary elections were held in February 1991 and presidential
elections were held in March 1991. Twenty-four political parties and 13 candidates,
including Kérékou and Soglo, contested the parliamentary elections. Soglo’s coali-
tion, the Union for the Triumph of Democratic Renewal, won the largest share of
parliamentary seats and Soglo became President.
Following this decisive electoral defeat, Kérékou asked for forgiveness for abusing
power during his tenure in office. The interim Government agreed not to prosecute
the outgoing dictator and Kérékou responded by pledging loyalty to the new gov-
ernment. Ultimately, Kérékou regained power through democratic elections in
1996.
What had begun as an assembly with no clearly defined agenda and somewhat
arbitrary membership found itself within the space of a few days dismantling the
266
Case Study: National Conferences

long established, albeit precarious, authoritarian regime and creating the institu-
tional framework for the democratization of the political system of Benin.
Congo (Brazzaville)
Before democratization, the Congolese political system exhibited many similari-
ties to that of Benin. The state was ruled by a militarized single party with strong
Marxist-Leninist tendencies, the Congolese Labour Party (PCT) led by Col. Denis
Sassou-Nguesso.
Deterioration of the economy and mounting social unrest led to the gradual ero-
sion of the PCT’s political monopoly, and by 1990, some liberalization of the politi-

cal system was already underway. In July 1990, the principle of a transition to multi-
partism was accepted, political prisoners were released, and by the end of the year,
Marxism-Leninism was abandoned. In January 1991, in the hope of controlling and
neutralizing the process of political liberalization, Sassou-Nguesso took the initiative
to legalize the formation of political parties. In early 1991, he convened an all-party
national conference to chart the country’s political future. The national conference
comprised 30 political parties and 141 associations and was convened for a three-
month period starting February 1991. However, almost immediately, the conference
was suspended for one month because of a dispute between the PCT and the oppo-
sition concerning the balance of representation. In March, when the conference
was reconvened, the various opposition groups gained an absolute majority of both
conference delegates (700 out of the 1100) and seats on the conference governing
body (seven of the 11 seats). As in Benin, a Roman Catholic bishop was elected as
chairman of the conference.
Although Sassou-Nguesso had insisted that the conference should be consulta-
tive, he was forced to agree to opposition demands that the conference be declared
a sovereign body that did not require government approval for its decisions. Having
established its authority, the conference then proceeded to dismantle the existing
authoritarian political structure before the conference itself was dissolved in June
1991. Sassou-Nguesso was allowed to retain the presidency for an interim period but
lost most of his powers, including control of the army, which were transferred to the
prime minister who became the head of the government. The conference estab-
lished a new legislature, the High Council of the Republic, which drafted a new con-
stitution to be submitted to a referendum. It also chose a new prime minister, André
Milongo, a non-party political technocrat and World Bank official.
By December 1991, the interim legislature had produced a draft constitution but,
in January 1992, the transition process was threatened by a mutiny by sections of the
army. Popular protests and Sassou-Nguesso’s unwillingness to support the coup
foiled the attempt and the new constitution was approved by referendum in March
1992, after a five-month delay.
267
Conferences in
Francophone Africa
Multi-party elections took place in July–August 1992. Although Sassou-Nguesso

and the PCT contested the presidential and parliamentary elections, they were de-
feated in both by the new opposition party, Pascal Lissouba’s Pan-African Union for
Social Democracy (UPDAS). The democratic experiment in Congo, however, col-
lapsed in 1997–1998 when Sassou-Nguesso returned to power by force.
Mali
In contrast to Benin and Congo (Brazzaville), the national conference in Mali
had a more limited role in the transition process and served more as a consensus-
building mechanism after the overthrow of Moussa Traoré’s dictatorship.
Widespread opposition to harsh conditions under Traoré’s 22-year dictatorship,

and mounting demands for a multi-party system, erupted in rioting in the streets of
the capital Bamako and other towns during the first months of 1991. On 26 March
1991, Traoré was ousted by a military coup under the reform-minded leadership of
Amadou Toumani Touré. A Transitional Committee for the Salvation of the People
(CTSP), composed of 10 military and 15 anti-Traoré civilians and headed by Touré,
was formed. The CTSP appointed Soumana Sacko, a highly respected senior UNDP
official, as Prime Minister and a technocratic government was formed. On 5 April
1991, the CTSP authorized the formation of political parties and declared its inten-
tion to rule for a nine-month period ending with a constitutional referendum and
multi-party elections. From the outset it was decided that the CTSP was to act as a
transitional authority pending the establishment of democratic institutions. As part
of this process, the CTSP established a national conference in July and August 1991.
The conference was composed of 1,800 delegates, 42 political parties and 100
associations. These groups discussed the precise details of the transition to demo-
cracy and the drafting of a new constitution. The principle of the transition itself
had already been decided upon before the conference opened. Thus, in contrast to
the two previous examples, the conference did not feel the need to assert its sover-
eignty and it was accepted that Touré and the CTSP would remain in power until
democratic elections could be held. Unlike Kérékou and Sassou-Nguesso, Touré
made it clear that he had no intention of taking part in the elections.
The national conference in Mali was not primarily an arena for managing con-
flict between an incumbent regime and a competing opposition. The main task of
the conference was to detail the way forward from the legacy of the past regime and
to draw up a new constitution that could then be approved through referendum.
The new constitution for what was designated as the Third Republic confirmed the
existence of a multi-party system, together with the independence of the judiciary,
freedom of association, speech and assembly, and the right to strike. The constitu-
tion was approved by referendum in January 1992 with elections taking place soon
after, won by Alpha Oumar Konaré of the Adema party.
268

Togo
For more than a quarter of a century, the Togolese political system has been dom-
inated by the daunting figure of Etienne Eyadéma, who came to power in a coup in
1967. Since 1969, Togo had officially been a single-party state with the Rally of
Togolese People (RPT) as the ruling party. In reality, the RPT was a military-backed
front for the highly personalized rule of Eyadéma and his Northern Kabre ethnic
tribe.
Encouraged by events elsewhere in the region, popular pressure for democrati-
zation built up from early 1990. In March 1991, Eyadéma agreed to the establish-
ment of a multi-party system but refused to concede opposition demands for a

national conference. It was clear that both the enthusiasm of the opposition for a
conference and the reluctance of Eyadéma were influenced by the way both sides
perceived events in Benin: whilst the opposition was eager to replicate the Benin
experience, Eyadéma was determined to avoid it.
In June 1991 a new coalition of opposition forces formed the Democratic
Opposition Front (FOD), which included political parties and trade unions, and
launched an indefinite general strike. In the short term, this pressure paid off and
Eyadéma agreed to a national conference, which opened in July 1991 with 1,000 del-
egates and with the bishop of Atakpame as chairman. The conference soon pro-
claimed itself sovereign. Government representatives rejected such a proclamation
and walked out of the conference. Although they returned one week later, they
refused to accept the conference’s self-proclaimed sovereignty: Eyadéma argued
that sovereignty could only be based on universal suffrage, which the conference
lacked. Although government forces were represented at and participated in the
conference, they made it clear that they would not be bound by any decision taken.
In retrospect, it is clear that the Togolese national conference significantly over-
estimated its own real power and underestimated that of the incumbent regime. As
in Benin, the conference decided to strip Eyadéma of most of his powers, establish
a new interim legislature and government, dissolve the RPT and choose a human
rights lawyer as interim prime minister. On August 26, Eyadéma suspended the con-
ference and surrounded it with troops. Although he subsequently allowed the con-
ference to proceed to its ceremonial ending on August 28, it was clear that real
power remained in Eyadéma’s hands. After the conference, Eyadéma used the army
to harass his political opponents and maintain a firm grip on power. Although pres-
idential elections were held in 1993, they can hardly be considered “free and fair”.
Democratic Republic of Congo (formerly Zaire)
Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo) also had a national conference,
but former President Mobutu Sesi Seko managed to control and neutralize the
process, frustrating all attempts by the national conference to accomplish any gen-
uine and substantial regime change through multi-party elections. Until 1990, when
Mobutu agreed to allow a multi-party system, Zaire was in theory a single-party state
269
Conferences in
Francophone Africa
with the Popular Movement of the Revolution (MPR) the only legal party to which
every citizen automatically belonged. In practice, the MPR was simply a vehicle for
the one-man rule of Mobutu, resting on his control of the army and especially the
Presidential Guard.
In 1990, following mass pro-democracy demonstrations, anti-government strikes
and pressure from external patrons, Mobutu agreed to allow the existence of oppo-
sition parties; 130 were formed, which meant that the opposition was highly frag-
mented. In April 1991, he announced that a national conference would be con-
vened. Mobutu, following widespread anti-government protest, suspended the con-
ference even before it convened. A fragile coalition known as the Sacred Union was
ultimately formed and the Zairian national conference eventually opened in August
1991. Although it remained in formal existence until December 1992 (far longer
than the other West African national conferences), it was frequently suspended and
clashes between government and opposition forces occurred regularly. The confer-
ence produced a draft constitution, but Mobutu remained in control, and the coun-
try became chronically unstable.
Zaire’s National Sovereign Conference in 1991–1992, and the follow-up High
Council of the Republic in 1993–1994, while not succeeding as an instrument of
democratic transition from Mobutu’s authoritarian, have contributed to the open-
ing of political space. These forums allowed opposition forces to wield some influ-
ence, to the point where at times there were competing claims of governmental
authority from the High Council and the decaying Mobutuist regime. Prominent
opposition figures such as Etienne Tshisekedi emerged to challenge the regime and
even to briefly share power as the democratization experiment was launched, but
before it lagged. Furthermore, the process led to extensive planning for elections
slated for 1997 – elections that did not take place, after civil war broke out in the
country and the rebel forces of current President Laurent Kabila defeated Mobutu’s
military. Nevertheless, many Congolese politicians, especially opposition figures,
continue to refer to the work of the national conference, and particularly its consti-
tutional vision of a federal democracy with a high degree of devolution. This vision
of a federal state could set the stage for renewed efforts to democratize the
Democratic Republic of Congo under the Kabila Government.
Lessons Learned
The national conferences in Benin, Congo and Mali were relatively successful in
providing an institutional mechanism for the transition to a more democratic polit-
ical system. However, it would be misleading to view a national conference as some
sort of institutional magic wand that can be used to produce a democratic transition.
The Togolese and Zairian experience failed to produce a democratic transition,
even though this was the hope of the opposition in both cases. In the case of Togo,
Eyadéma succeeded in controlling and neutralizing the process, sometimes with the
use of force and intimidation, while in Zaire the entire process was a farce designed
to regain some international legitimacy.
270

Strengths
Forum for all sides to express view. A national conference provides a vehicle for
all sides, from the national level to the grass-roots level, to express its views, interests
and political objectives. This inclusive dialogue process facilitates the building of a
national consensus on fundamental rights and interests with the intention of devel-
oping a stable and democratic social order. Arriving at a national consensus is criti-
cal especially during those times when government legitimacy is fading and political
institution building is required. It is interesting to note that, without exception, all
11 countries that convened national conferences recorded advances in political lib-
eralization up to 1992.

Weaknesses and lessons
Can be neutralized and manipulated by incumbent. It is very difficult to anticipate
which issues will be addressed at a national conference and how participants will
manage a conference. A national conference can begin with chaotic disagreement
over conference membership and participation, as the government and the opposi-
tion struggle for control over conference management. Although structural factors
are important, the degree of control over the process of democratic transition by
autocrats and their ability to impose conditions on the process should not be
ignored. The national conference process can be neutralized and manipulated by
incumbent rulers.
Indeed, the Francophone African experience demonstrates that, as conferences
were convened one after the other, incumbent rulers tried to control the process
and gradually learned how to neutralize it. Mobutu’s Zaire illustrates a case of a neu-
tralized and manipulated national conference used more as a tactical tool than a
genuine forum for negotiated political reform. Some leaders refused to counte-
nance a national conference at all (like Biya in Cameroon or Kolingba in the
Central African Republic). Others tried to twist the process to their advantage:
Bongo, in Gabon, caught the opposition off-guard when he convened a national
conference without warning and manipulated the proceedings. Others remonstrat-
ed and dissembled: Eyadéma withdrew his government delegation from the Togo
conference after it declared itself sovereign and suspended it altogether when the
conferees attempted to remove his powers over the armed forces. In South Africa,
the opposition ANC walked out of CODESA in June 1992, interrupting proceedings
for several months and using their participation as a bargaining tool (see South
Africa Case Study). Sassou-Nguesso’s experience was a sharp lesson for presidents
on the importance of controlling the transition personally. Seibou, in Niger, having
been stripped of all but his honorific powers within a month by the national con-
ference, took the decision to stand down from the presidential nomination rather
than face humiliation. In some instances, heads of state used the military to intimi-
date, incarcerate or even eliminate opponents. In Traoré’s case it was counterpro-
271
Conferences in
Francophone Africa
ductive, since the Malian army refused to be tools of oppression. By contrast,

Eyadéma in Togo successfully used the army to direct the “democratization process”
from 1990 until his re-election in 1993.
Timing. Although the different national conferences reflect different socio-eco-
nomic contexts, they also were shaped by the different timing strategies used by the
incumbent regimes: specifically a fast/slow approach. The fast approach by incum-
bents involved the establishment of the national conference at an early stage in
order both to keep the initiative and not to give enough time to the opposition to
organize; the slow approach consisted in delaying the speed of the subsequent
process in order to buy time to construct support and deny that support to the oppo-
sition by, for instance, trying to split the opposition or co-opting it into the majority.
Instability. National conferences (with the exception of South Africa and Kenya)
were predominantly a Francophone African phenomenon occurring in one-party
regimes (10 out of the 11 countries) and in political systems resembling the French
“semi-presidential” structure. This system can eventually lead to dual conflicting
forces at the top if the parliamentary majority – and the government – is not con-
gruent with the presidential majority (see section 4.3 on “Executive Type” in this
handbook). This situation, when it occurred, tended to increase the instability of
the political system.
High expectations. In some cases, national conferences raised exaggerated ex-
pectations regarding the efficacy of such a mechanism for democratic transition,
irrespective of other circumstances – as the Benin experience reveals. Nevertheless,
such a vehicle or mechanism may still present an opportunity to bring about gen-
uine political change.
Balance of power. Comparison of the success and failure of the national confer-
ence in providing a genuine transition to a more democratic form of rule suggests
that in many cases the outcome was largely determined by the resources of real
power, especially economic and military power, which opposing sides in the conflict
were able to employ against each other. These varied domestic power equations
counted more than the procedural similarities or dissimilarities of the various con-
ferences.
272
Luc Huyse
Strategies for coping with the past have ranged from massive
criminal prosecution of the supporters of the previous order to
unconditionally closing the book. In this section we review some
of these strategies and examine the pros and cons of prosecution
and punishment. In the next section, we examine two
mechanisms in greater detail – truth commissions and war crime
tribunals.
4.9.1 Policies for coping with the past

4.9.2 The case for and against prosecution and/or lustration
4.9.3 The case against punishment
4.9.4 Constraints
4.9.5 Conclusion
Box 10 Policies for Coping with the Past (p. 274)
4.9.1 Policies for coping with the past

Coping with the past during the transition from a repressive
regime to a democracy has taken a wide variety of forms. All pol-
icy choices involve answers to two key questions: whether to re-
member or forget the abuses, and whether to impose sanctions
on the individuals who are responsible for these abuses. Some of
these policies are offender-oriented (amnesty, prosecution and
lustration), others are victim-oriented (compensation and sym-
bolic measures). Truth commissions are directed towards both
offenders and victims.
Amnesty. The granting of absolute amnesty is at one end of
the spectrum. In some cases the unrestricted pardon is the result
of the self-amnesty that the outgoing elite unilaterally award
themselves before the transition gets underway. In other
instances impunity is the outcome of negotiations between old
and new leaders. In Uruguay, for instance, the government that
succeeded the military dictatorship enacted, under pressure
from the military, an amnesty law in 1986. A third route toward
impunity is when democratic forces agree to confer immunity to
individuals who committed crimes defending or opposing the
previous regime, as was the case in post-Franco Spain.
273
Truth commissions. Forgiving but not forgetting is the subs-

tance of a second major policy choice. Its usual format is the na-
tional or international truth commission (see following section).
The first goal of such a commission is to investigate the fate of
individuals, and of the nation as a whole, under the preceding
regime. Its aim is not to prosecute and punish. Examples of
truth commissions include the Chilean National Commission on
Truth and Reconciliation (1990), the South African Truth and
Reconciliation Commission (1995–1998) and the UN-sponsored
Truth Commission in El Salvador (1991).
Policy choices involve Lustration. Disqualification of agents of the secret police and
answers to two key their informers, of judges and teachers, of civil servants and mil-
itary personnel is a third way to address the question of reckon-
questions: whether to
ing for past wrongs. It sometimes includes the loss of political
remember or forget and civil rights. In some of the post-communist countries of east-
the abuses and ern and central Europe, the screening of officials has been the
whether to impose only policy step.
sanctions on the Box 10
individuals who are POLICIES FOR COPING WITH THE PAST
responsible for these
abuses. 1. Amnesty. Absolute amnesty can be granted through self-
amnesty that the outgoing elite unilaterally award
themselves, through negotiations between old and new
leaders, or through agreement by the new democratic
forces.
2. Truth Commissions. The main goal is to investigate the
fate of individuals and of the nation as a whole, not to
prosecute and punish.
3. Lustration. Disqualification of the agents of the secret
police and their informers, of judges and teachers, of
civil servants and military personnel.
4. Criminal Prosecution. This can be done by an
international body (e.g., International Criminal
Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia), or by national
courts.
5. Compensation. Compensation by the state (monetary
reparation, free medical and psychological treatment,
reduced interest on loans for education and home
building) and the establishment of permanent
reminders of the legacy of the past (monuments,
museums, public holidays, etc.)
274
Criminal prosecution. The most radical interpretation of ack-

nowledgement and accountability is outright criminal prosecution
of the perpetrators. This task can be taken up by an internatio-
nal body, as in the case of the International Criminal Tribunal
for the Former Yugoslavia. National courts also perform this
function. A recent example is Ethiopia where some 5,000 offici-
als of the fallen Mengistu regime have been named for trial. By
contrast, as a strategy for dealing with the past, criminal prose-
cution has encountered almost no support in post-1989 Eastern
and Central Europe and in the post-authoritarian regimes of
Latin America.
Compensation. Prosecution and/or general knowledge of the
truth might be seen as an incomplete dealing with the crimes of
the previous regime. Additional steps may include compensation
by the state (monetary reparation, free medical and psychologi-
cal treatment, reduced interest on loans for education and ho-
me building) and the establishment of permanent reminders of the
legacy of the past, such as monuments, museums, public holidays
and ceremonies. In South Africa, such measures are seen to pro-
vide channels for the non-violent expression of pain and anger.
4.9.2 The case for prosecution and/or lustration
In the ongoing public debate over post-transition justice,
political leaders, academics and other analysts are divided on
numerous points. The most divisive question, by far, is how to
balance the demands of justice against the many, mainly politi-
cal, factors that make prosecution a major risk to the new re-
gime. Those who emphasize the beneficial effects of prosecu-
tion bring forward two crucial reasons. First, punishing the per-
petrators of the old regime advances the cause of building or
reconstructing a morally just order. The second reason has to do
with establishing and upholding the young democracy that suc-
ceeds the authoritarian system.
Reconstruct a morally just order. Proponents of prosecution
argue that “justice must be done” in order to rebuild the moral
order that has been broken. They believe that the successor gov-
ernment owes it, first of all, as a moral obligation to the victims
of the repressive system. Post-authoritarian justice serves to heal
the wounds and to repair the private and public damage that the
antecedent regime provoked. By serving as a sort of ritual cleans-
ing process, it also paves the way for a moral and political renais-
sance. Asked by Adam Michnik, a prominent leader of the Po-
lish opposition to communist rule, what he thought of such
cleansing, the German writer Jurgen Fuchs answered:
275
“If we do not solve this problem in a definite way, it will haunt

us as Nazism did. We did not denazify ourselves, and this
weighed on us for years.”
Strengthens fragile democracies. Many believe that in the first

months after a transition, the survival of the successor regime
depends on swift and firm action against pro-authoritarian offi-
cials and their followers. Such action is seen as a necessary pro-
tection against sabotage “from within”. Moreover, if the prose-
cution issue remains untouched other forms of social and polit-
ical disturbance may be triggered, with perhaps a risk of vigi-
lante justice with summary executions, or unbridled screening
of political personnel, journalists and judges may be instigated,
as was the case in post-communist Poland.
Legitimacy. What a new or reinstated democracy needs most,
however, is legitimacy. Failure to prosecute and lustrate may ge-
nerate feelings of cynicism and distrust towards the political sys-
tem. This is precisely what has happened in some Latin Ameri-
can countries.
Long-term democratic consolidation. Some analysts believe
that prosecutions also advance long-term democratic consolida-
tion. They argue that amnesty endangers the inculcation of codes
of conduct based on the rule of law. They claim that a discriminatory
application of the criminal law, privileging certain de-
fendants (such as military leaders), will breed cynicism toward
the rule of law.
Deter future human rights abuses. Prosecutions, finally, are
seen as the most potent deterrence against future abuses of hu-
man rights.
4.9.3 The case against punishment
Some analysts argue that prosecuting those alleged to bear
responsibility for the crimes of the past is both risky and ambiva-
lent. There is no guarantee, they say, that its effect will be bene-
ficial for democracy. They argue that partisan justice always
lurks behind the scenes and that prosecutions can have highly
destabilizing effects on an immature democracy. Raoul Alfonsin,
Argentina’s first elected president after the collapse of the mili-
tary regime wrote:
“In the final analysis, punishment is one instrument, but not

the sole or even the most important one, for forming the
collective moral conscience.”
276
May violate rule of law and thus weaken new regime’s legiti-
macy. Young democracies place a high value upon the rule of
law and human rights, but post-transition justice involves a num-
ber of decisions that may trespass on these legal principles. It
may force the successor elite to violate rule of law principles to-
day while judging the undemocratic behaviour of yesterday,
which can weaken considerably the legitimacy of the new regime.
For example, the principles of the separation of powers and
of judicial impartiality are at stake when dealing with the ques-
tion of who will act as the judges of the authoritarian regime.
Political pressure, time constraints and the unavailability of suf-
ficient judicial personnel may lead the post-transition elite to
create special tribunals in which lay-judges play a prominent
role. This, the opponents of prosecutions argue, makes lapses
from important legal norms almost unavoidable. Such special
courts can, indeed, become instruments of partisan vengeance
since non-professional judges are easier targets for pressure by
the executive, the media and public opinion. This is what happe-
ned in post-war Belgium and France some 50 years ago.
Justice after transition must take place within a timeframe.
This frame consists of answers to two questions: do we accept ex
post facto criminal legislation? And will the existing statute of lim-
itation be lifted or upheld? The first question deals with the nul-
lum crimen sine lege, nulla poena sine lege principle. This principle
means that no conduct may be held punishable unless it is pre-
cisely described in a penal law, and no penal sanction may be
imposed except in pursuance of a law that describes it prior to
the commission of the offence. The second question, dealing
with the lifting of the existing statute of limitation is particularly
acute in post-communist countries. Atrocities against life and
property took place mostly in the late 1940s and during the
1950s. In most cases, as in Hungary where a 30-year statute of
limitations, exists, criminal proceedings for the most reprehen-
sible human rights abuses are precluded by reason of lapse of
time. Those who disapprove of prosecutions assert that post-
transition trials ultimately will result in changing the rules of the
game after the fact, either by applying retroactive legislation or
by recommencing the statute of limitation once it has run out.
Post-transition justice tends to be emergency justice. This is
particularly true if it comes in the early phases of the transition.
The climate is then seldom well suited for a scrupulous sorting
out of all the gradations in responsibility for the abuses of the
past.
277
Survival of democratic process. A new or reinstated democracy

is a frail construct. For that reason impunity or, at least, tol-
erance in the handling of past abuses might be a prerequisite for
the survival of the democratic process. There is, first, the risk of
a destabilizing backlash. Military leaders who feel threatened by
projected prosecution may try to reverse the course of events by
a coup or a rebellion. This problem especially haunts the young
democracies of Latin America.
Creation of sub-cultures and networks hostile to democracy.
A prolonged physical and social expulsion of certain sections of
the population, based on criminal court decisions, may obstruct
democratic consolidation by driving the supporters of the previ-
ous regime into social and political isolation. This in turn could
result in the creation of sub-cultures and networks, which in the
long run will become hostile to democracy.
Precludes reconciliation. Criminal prosecutions may also pre-
clude the reconciliation required for a democracy to function.
The need for closing the ranks is one of the main arguments of
advocates of amnesty laws. See Uruguayan President Sanguinetti’s
justification of an amnesty law pardoning abuses of a previous mil-
itary regime: “The 12 years of dictatorship have left scars which
will need a long time to heal and it is good to begin to do so.”
Administrative and managerial personnel. The viability of a
young democracy depends too on its efficacy. A far-reaching purge
of administrative and managerial personnel can be counter-
productive as it endangers the badly needed political and eco-
nomic development of the country. Prudent considerations of
the problematic consequences of dismissals from civil service
and high industrial jobs have been heard regularly in post-com-
munist eastern and central Europe.
Dealing with the past is an inescapable task for new democra-
tic regimes. Successor elites may be put off by the many delicate
and explosive aspects of such assignment. But there is no way
out. Choices must be made. One of Samuel Huntington’s guide-
lines to democratizers reads:
“Recognize that on the issue of ‘prosecute and punish vs. forgive

and forget’, each alternative presents grave problems, and that
the least unsatisfactory course may well be: do not prosecute, do
not punish, do not forgive, and, above all, do not forget.”
278
A major problem is that some of the arguments in the debate

on pardon versus punish are quite contradictory. Most political
leaders, journalists and academics seem to agree that the crucial
challenge is to strike a balance between the demands of justice
and political prudence or, in other words, to reconcile ethical
imperatives and political constraints. This is no easy enterprise.
It entails a difficult and, on occasion, tortuous cost-benefit ana-
lysis. All costs and gains, political and moral, of pardoning and
punishing must be balanced against each other.
4.9.4 Constraints
In their confrontation with the many questions and dilemmas
which dealing with the past poses, political and judicial elites
have limited freedom of action. Several factors restrict the num-
ber of accessible politico-legal strategies: earlier experiences
with post-transitional justice; the international context at the time
of the regime change; the presence or absence of organizational
resources; and the state of the judiciary.
But the determining factor in how a state is able to deal with
its past depends on the balance of power between the forces of
the old and the new order during and shortly after the transi-
tion. There are three scenarios: (1) a clear victory of the new for-
ces over the old order, as in a violent overthrow or the collapse
of the repressive regime (e.g., Ethiopia); (2) reformers inside
the forces of the past initiate democracy (e.g., Soviet Union);
(3) joint action by a negotiated settlement between governing
and opposition groups (e.g., South Africa).
The most important consequence of the mode of transition is
the density of political constraints it generates. The widest scope
for prosecutions and punishment arises in the case of an over-
throw. Almost no political limits exist. Full priority can be given
to the thirst for justice and retribution. A totally different situa-
tion comes up if the transition is based on reform or compro-
mise. In that case the forces of the previous order have not lost
all power and control. They are to a certain degree able to dic-
tate the terms of the transition. The new elite have only limited
options. They may be forced to grant the outgoing authorities a
safe passage in return for their total or partial abdication. The
need to avoid confrontation becomes the rationale for exchang-
ing criminal prosecution and severe lustration for a policy of for-
giveness.
4.9.5 Conclusion
Many of the policy suggestions mentioned above are based on
the premise that post-authoritarian elites can actually make
279
choices. However, the first lesson of the study of past examples

is that the actions of such elites are a function of the circum-
stances of the journey to democracy. The second conclusion is
that there are no miracle solutions to the question of how to
deal with a repressive past. In almost all cases the passage of time
has not fully exorcised the ghosts of this past. Too much forgive-
ness undermines respect for the law, induces the anger of those
who suffered, is an impediment to an authentic reconciliation
and an invitation to recidivism. That is why most analysts argue
that if the balance of forces at the time of the transition makes a
negotiated mildness inevitable, a truth-telling operation with
full exposure of the crimes of the former regime is the least un-
satisfactory solution. Memory, it is said, is the ultimate form of
justice. The truth is both retribution and deterrence, and under-
mines the mental foundation of future human rights abuses.

in the Late Twentieth Century. Norman and London: University
of Oklahoma Press.
Jongman, A.J. ed. 1996. Contemporary Genocides: Causes, Cases,
Consequences. Leiden: PIOOM.
Kritz, Neil J. ed. 1995. Transitional Justice. How Emerging
Democracies Reckon With Former Regimes. Volume I: General
Considerations, Volume II: Country Studies, Volume III:
Laws, Rulings, Reports. Washington, DC: United States
Institute of Peace.
“Law and Lustration: Righting the Wrongs of the Past”. 1995.
Special issue of Law and Social Inquiry, Journal of the
American Bar Foundation, vol. 20, no. 1.
“Accountability for International Crimes and Serious
Violations of Fundamental Human Rights”. 1996. Special
issue of Law and Contemporary Problems. Durham, NC: Duke
University Press. vol. 59, no. 4.
O’Donnell, Guillermo and Phillipe Schmitter. eds. 1986.
Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Prospects for Democracy.
Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press.
280
4.10 Reckoning for Past Wrongs: Truth Michael Lund

Commissions and War Crimes Tribunals
4.10 Reckoning for Past Wrongs: Truth Commissions and

War Crimes Tribunals
As discussed in the previous section, when communities have

been victimized by the government or by another group during
a conflict, underlying feelings of resentment and the desire for
revenge cannot be alleviated unless the group is allowed to
mourn the tragedy and senses that wrongs have been
acknowledged, if not entirely vindicated. In an environment
where there is no acknowledgement of or accountability for past
violent events, tensions among former disputants persist.
Hence, confronting and reckoning with the past is vital to the
transition from conflict to democracy. This section addresses
two mechanisms to achieve this accounting: truth commissions
and war-crime tribunals.
4.10.1–4.10.4 Truth commissions: description, tasks, strengths,

limitations and organization
4.10.5–4.10.8 War crimes tribunals: description, tasks, strengths,
limitations, and organization
4.10.9 Conclusion
Box 11 Examples of Truth Commissions (p. 283)

Factsheet 3 Designing a Truth Commission (pp. 287–288)
Box 12 Examples of War Crimes Tribunals (p. 289)
Factsheet 4 Designing a War Crimes Tribunal (pp. 295–296)
During protracted periods of authoritarian rule and violent

conflict, support for democratic mechanisms and the rule of law
can atrophy. It is important to rebuild confidence in democra-
tic government and eliminate such practices as political killings
and ethnic cleansing in order to facilitate the transition to a civil
society. The transformation can also be hindered by lingering
feelings of injustice and mistrust on the part of the population
against the government and other ethnic groups. In addition,
the prospects for sustaining the peace process after a settlement
281
4.10 Reckoning for Past
Wrongs: Truth
Commissions and
may be prejudiced if perpetrators of atrocities remain in posi-
tions of power or are seen to be continuing to act with impunity
in the country or in their own communities.
Truth Commissions
4.10.1 Description
A truth commission is a body established to investigate hu-
man rights violations committed by military, government, or
other armed forces under the previous regime or during a civil
war. Truth commissions are not courts of law. Their primary pur-
pose is to provide an accurate record of who was responsible for
extra-judicial killings, such as assassinations and “disappearances”,
massacres, and grievous human rights abuses in a country’s past,
so that the truth can be made part of a nation’s common history
and the process of national reconciliation can be facilitated.
Truth commissions Truth commissions also address the demand for justice by vic-
are not courts of law. tims and their families by providing a forum for victims to relate
their stories as well as an official public record. By acknow-
Their primary pur- ledging the truth and assigning responsibility for violations to cer-
pose is to provide an tain individuals, both the violators and the victims can come to
accurate record of terms with the past. Truth commissions do not focus on a spe-
cific event, but look at violations committed over a broad period
who was responsible of time. Truth commissions are usually established immediately
for extra-judicial after a peace settlement has been reached, since at this point the
killings in a country’s new regime is generally strong in relation to the military and
other segments of society. A commission usually exists tempora-
past, so that the truth
rily; its mandate usually ceases with the submission of a report of
can be made part of a its findings. It is not intended as a prosecutorial body, but its
nation’s common findings may be used in separate judicial proceedings.
history and the The legacy of brutal internal conflict or authoritarianism is
process of national often a lingering sense of injustice and mistrust of the govern-
ment on the part of the citizens and thus a lack of confidence in
reconciliation can be new democratic mechanisms. A truth commission can enhance
facilitated. the process of national reconciliation by reducing the popula-
tion’s fear and mistrust of the government and demonstrating
the new regime’s commitment to democratic ideals, thus facili-
tating change in the public’s perception of the government.
Accepting responsibility for past violations displays respect for
the rights of individuals and rule of law, which enhances the
legitimacy of the new regime. Truth commissions can also be
especially beneficial in “buying time” during the period of
transition from the temporary political arrangements estab-
lished by a peace process to the establishment of permanent
judicial institutions.
282
4.10 Reckoning for Past Wrongs: Truth

Box 11
EXAMPLES OF TRUTH COMMISSIONS
Truth commissions have become a widely used tool in the

transition from conflict or oppression to democracy, especially
in Central and South America and Africa.
Chile’s National Commission for Truth and Reconciliation. In
1990, at the urging of non-governmental organizations, the
president of Chile established a “National Commission for
Truth and Reconciliation” to investigate violations committed
over the previous 17 years of military rule. This commission
worked for nine months, with a staff of over 60 people, and
was able to thoroughly investigate each of the 3,400 cases
submitted. Most notable in the Chilean example is that,
following the commission’s suggestion, the government
created a mechanism for the implementation of the
commission’s recommendations.
Commission on the Truth for El Salvador. In the case of El
Salvador, the creation of the “Commission on the Truth for El
Salvador” was written into the peace settlement ending the 12-
year civil war in that country. Given the fragile foundation of
the El Salvador settlement and the highly polarized nature of
the country, the truth commission did not include any
Salvadorans. Instead, the UN appointed three highly
respected international figures to the commission. The
mandate granted the commission six months to complete its
investigation and submit a report, although it was later
granted a two-month extension.
The South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission. In
South Africa, three commissions have been created. In 1992,
Nelson Mandela created a “Commission of Enquiry” to
investigate treatment of prisoners at African National
Congress (ANC) detention camps. This is a rare example of a
political party organization establishing a commission to
investigate its own abuses. The findings of this commission
were criticized for being biased and Mandela named a new
commission consisting of three commissioners, from South
Africa, Zimbabwe and the US. In December 1995 the
Government set up a two-year “Truth and Reconciliation
Commission” composed of 17 members and chaired by
Archbishop Desmond Tutu. The commission’s task included
investigation of crimes committed by both the Government
and the opposition during the struggle against apartheid, as
well as consideration of amnesty for perpetrators and
reparations to victims.
283
Wrongs: Truth
Commissions and
4.10.2 Tasks and activities

Truth commissions have performed the following functions:
– Investigation of past human rights violations committed
over a given period of time by the government, military or
other armed forces.
– Reporting of the commission’s findings to government.
Such reports can publicly identify individual perpetrators
of human rights violations and recommend action to be
taken by the government against these individuals. They
can also include recommendations covering military and
police reform, judicial reform, and ways of strengthening
democratic institutions. In some cases, such as in South Af-
rica, the report can also include recommendations on how
to apportion reparations among victims.
– As part of their investigations, commissions can gather
information on victims, locate victims’ remains for their fa-
milies, and search for persons who still may be alive.
– Examination of the context under which abuses occurred
and analysis of what made such events possible, in order to
lessen the likelihood of their recurrence.
– Education of the public on human rights through media
reports and publications of the commission’s findings.
– Granting of amnesty to those perpetrators who have fully
confessed their crimes. This was the case in the South Af-
rican Truth and Reconciliation Commission, where an
amnesty committee, staffed primarily by judges, heard ap-
plications for amnesty.
4.10.3 Strengths and limitations
Truth commissions are often the result of a negotiated com-
promise between parties in conflict. As a result, they can be han-
dicapped from the beginning depending on the political cli-
mate in which they take place. For example, they may place more
emphasis on truth and pardon and less on justice, thus poten-
tially leading to disappointment in the long term. In evaluating
the efficacy of a commission at a later stage, therefore, it is im-
portant to remember that at the time the commission was nego-
tiated, parties’ options may have been limited and that the mere
formation of a truth commission may, in itself, have played a va-
luable role in the transition process.
Can maintain peace during transition. Truth commissions can
play an integral part in the maintenance of the peace process
284

during the early stages of transition from conflict to a perma-

nent legitimate government by representing one of the first vis-
ible manifestations of the transition to the new democratic
order. Truth commissions provide an impartial mechanism by
which the current regime can display respect for individual
rights, which helps to enhance their legitimacy. This in turn can
help build confidence in democratic mechanisms.
Truth commissions are limited in implementing recommen-
dations. The mandate of truth commissions usually prevents
them from playing an active role in the implementation of their
recommendations. If there is no real commitment on the part of
the government to reform, many of the commissions’ recom-
mendations can go unheeded.
They are not a substitute for criminal justice. Truth commis-
sions are separated from the formal judicial process and, though
it can lead to such a process, actual prosecution of individuals
responsible for abuses has been rare.
They cannot investigate the current situation. As the purpose
of a truth commission is to bring a nation to terms with its past,
it cannot investigate the current situation. Therefore, abuses by
the new regime are often overlooked. An example of this can be
seen in El Salvador, where death squads continued to operate
after the peace settlement was in place. If there is no group mo-
nitoring the current regime, victims are often hesitant to testify
for fear of reprisal. A truth commission does not take the place
of a permanent human rights monitoring body.
4.10.4 Organization
Establishment, personnel and structures
The executive branch, parliament or international organiza-
tions such as the UN have created truth commissions. Once the
commission has been created, the establishing body then ap-
points individuals to serve as commissioners. The number of
commissioners can vary, ranging anywhere from three to 30.
The commissioners should comprise well-respected individuals
representing a cross-section of society, such as politicians, law-
yers, judges, and human rights personnel. In some cases where
the country is extremely polarized, as in El Salvador, the com-
missions may be made up entirely of foreign citizens.
An executive secretary or chairperson, often appointed by the
establishing body, heads the commissions. Personnel should
include administrative and technical support staff.
285
Wrongs: Truth
Commissions and
War Crimes Tribunal
Resources needed
The main resources needed for an effective commission
include: financing, appropriate information, a venue, modes of
transportation, and skilled staff. In most cases, funding for the
commissions has come from the government. In some instances,
funding has come from international foundations, NGOs, for-
eign governments, or, as in El Salvador, from the United Na-
tions.
Access to files of human rights cases from the country’s courts
or from human rights organizations is especially beneficial.
Commissions also need the physical infrastructure necessary to
conduct their investigations. This includes access to transporta-
tion in order to address complaints throughout the country as
well as adequate office space, where victims and witnesses can
come to give testimony. Among the staff required may be hu-
man rights specialists, social workers and forensics experts.
Links to other mechanisms
Truth commissions work quite effectively in conjunction with
war crimes tribunals. A tribunal is endowed with the actual judi-
cial and prosecutorial powers lacked by truth commissions. Yet
tribunals often cannot be established until later in the peace
process, after judicial reforms have taken place. Truth commis-
sion investigations can begin immediately and serve to fill in this
time gap, thereby allowing time for establishment of a tribunal.
Also, as mentioned above, as truth commissions are not man-
dated to investigate current human rights abuses, a permanent
human rights monitoring body should also be established.
286
DESIGNING A TRUTH COMMISSION
Truth Commission: A body established to investigate human

rights violations committed by military, government, or other
armed forces under the previous regime or during a civil war.
Truth commissions are not courts of law. Their primary pur-
pose is to provide an accurate record of who was responsible for
extra-judicial killings such as assassinations, “disappear-
ances” and other human rights abuses.
DESIGN FACTORS
Impartial and transparent. The appointment and composition of the
commission must be both impartial and transparent; its members must be
capable of acting independently and professionally.
Sufficient authority. The commission must be vested with sufficient authority to
collect information and to maximize the impact of its recommendations. The
commission established in Chad was authorized by presidential decree to
collect documentation, take testimony, and confiscate material as necessary.
The commission in South Africa was highly successful in its investigations due
to its powers of subpoena, and search and seizure.
Flexible mandate. The commission must be given a flexible mandate to decide
what types of abuses to investigate.
Realistic timeframe. The commission should have a mandate of limited
duration, but one that provides a realistic timeframe or includes mechanisms
for extension.
IMPLEMENTATION FACTORS
Sufficient funding and staff. The most successful commissions have had a large
support staff. The “National Commission for Truth and Reconciliation” in
Chile had over 60 staff members and was therefore able to investigate each
case brought before it. In the Philippines, however, the commission did not
have staffing levels to investigate the overwhelming volume of complaints
received.
Perceived impartiality of the commissioners. The South African Government
selected commissioners by committee rather than governmental appointment.

Confidential investigations. Confidential investigations can overcome witnesses’
fear of granting testimony. Investigations may be conducted privately if
fairness can be guaranteed and the findings are made public. In El Salvador,
information was kept confidential until publication of the commission’s report.
CONTEXTUAL REQUIREMENTS
Real commitment on the part of the government to respect individual rights
and democratic mechanisms.
Strong civilian government in relation to the military. It is difficult for a truth
commission to recommend action against members of the military, if the
government cannot enforce it.
Impartial media. The existence of impartial media to broadcast commission’s
findings.
CHALLENGES AND PITFALLS
Threats to commission personnel and/or potential witnesses. Some commissions
have reported an unwillingness by victims to testify for fear of reprisals.
Too short or too long a timeframe for the commission’s operation. Most truth
commissions have been granted a six- to nine-month mandate, but this short a
timeframe may limit a commission attempting to investigate and document
thousands of cases. Yet setting no deadline for completion of the
commission’s work is even more problematic. The truth commission in
Uganda has been operating for nine years and has lost the confidence of
much of the population.
Politicization. Commissions are often used as a political tool to enhance a
regime’s popularity without a true commitment to reform. The government’s
claimed commitment is often belied by its tendency to grant amnesty to the
perpetrators of violations.
Limited mandate. A truth commission’s mandate should be broad enough to
allow for the investigation of all forms of abuse. If the commission’s mandate
is limited in scope, the full truth is not made public and the feelings of
injustice and mistrust among the population remain.
Claims of denial of due process. Although truth commissions do not have
prosecutorial powers, their allegations against those who have committed
human rights violations are often perceived as a guilty verdict. For this reason,
commissions have been criticized for denying due process to those accused.
The argument over due process versus exposing the truth has arisen in
debates over whether or not to identify perpetrators of abuses or victims in
commission reports. To address this issue, many commissions have established
processes by which those accused have the opportunity to present evidence in
their defence.



4.10.5 Description
A war crimes tribunal is a judicial body created to investigate
and prosecute individuals accused of violations of human rights
or humanitarian law in the wake of violent conflict. Such viola-
tions include crimes against humanity and other crimes out-
lined in the Fourth Hague Convention and the Geneva Conven-
tions. By placing the responsibility for human rights violations
on specific individuals, rather than a social or ethnic group, a
war crimes tribunal can help to defuse ethnic tensions. Actual
prosecution of these individuals fulfils the victims’ needs for jus-
tice, which is necessary for the process of reconciliation. Finally,
setting a precedent of accountability for human rights violations
ends the notion of impunity and works to deter future perpe-
trators.
Box 12
EXAMPLES OF WAR CRIMES TRIBUNALS
A tribunal is generally an international body, although
national courts can carry out similar functions. Although
war crimes tribunals have not been widely used since the
Nuremberg trials of Nazi officials after World War II, two
prominent recent cases can serve as examples.
International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia
(ICTY). In 1993 the United Nations Security Council
Resolution 827 created the International Criminal
Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY). The ICTY was
mandated to prosecute individuals allegedly responsible
for violations of international humanitarian law during
armed conflict in the territory of the former Yugoslavia
from 1 January 1991 until a date to be determined after
the restoration of peace.
International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR).
In 1994 the United Nations Security Council adopted
Resolution 955, which established the International
Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR). Similar to the
ICTY, the tribunal in Rwanda was tasked with prosecuting
individuals responsible for genocide and crimes against
humanity committed in Rwanda between 1 January, and
31 December, 1994. The ICTR also has jurisdiction for
prosecuting Rwandan citizens who committed such viola-
tions in neighbouring states.
289
Wrongs: Truth
Commissions and
War Crimes Tribunal
The purpose of war crimes tribunals is to restore peace and
deter future violations by enforcing the norms they uphold. The
key difference between a truth commission (as discussed above)
and a war crimes tribunal is that a tribunal has the ability to pros-
ecute those persons accused of human rights violations. A tri-
bunal provides the accused with a fair trial and opportunity to
defend oneself.
4.10.6 Tasks and activities
War crimes tribunals undertake the following tasks:
– Investigate, prosecute and sentence persons allegedly
responsible for violations of international humanitarian
law and human rights abuses.
– Provide victims the opportunity to testify in public or
have their testimony recorded.
– Educate the public on humanitarian norms and human
rights.
4.10.7 Strengths and limitatitions
The key difference A war crimes tribunal holds the potential for taking strong,
concrete steps toward building a society based on the rule of
between a truth
law through a process that is seen to be fair and law-based.
commission and a The criticism of the post-World War Two Nuremberg trials –
war crimes tribunal is that they imposed retroactive norms and victors’ justice on
that a tribunal has the accused – no longer applies. In the intervening years, the
the ability to prosecute notion of individual responsibility for war crimes has become
those persons accused internationally accepted. Additionally, as with Rwanda and
Yugoslavia, an international tribunal under the UN need not
of human rights
be controlled by “victors” and therefore cannot be accused of
violations. seeking revenge. The effectiveness of a war crimes tribunal is
hampered, however, by four main factors.
No consensus on penalties. Although individual account-
ability for war crimes has become an accepted norm in the
international arena, there is no corresponding consensus on
the penalties to be imposed for those crimes. The interna-
tional community highlighted this situation in the Rwanda
case where the punishment under Rwandan national law for
some crimes differs greatly from the penalties endorsed. If
different judicial bodies mete out different punishments for
the same crimes, it can undermine the sense of justice that
the tribunal is meant to instil.
290

Lack of an enforcement mechanism. Tribunals have the

power to issue arrest warrants for war criminals, but do not
have the police authority to apprehend those who have been
indicted. In this effort, tribunals are reliant upon the co-oper-
ation of the local government and of other relevant interna-
tional bodies in tracking down and capturing war criminals.
Yet, as seen with NATO in Yugoslavia, these bodies may resist
performing this portion of their mandate because it may
place peace-keepers at risk of retaliation. But lack of enforce-
ment may severely hinder the effectiveness of tribunals,
thereby eroding public confidence in their usefulness.
Cannot stop a conflict in progress. Although tribunals may
begin their work before hostilities completely cease (as in
Yugoslavia), they cannot themselves stop a conflict that is in
progress. In fact, it is possible that the naming of particular
individuals who still have the ability to carry on the conflict
may harden their resistance to ending it and provide further
motivation to continue the struggle. This problem can be
alleviated to the extent that tribunals are established before a
war arises, such as would be the case were there to be, as
some have advocated, a permanent international criminal
court. This kind of established tribunal could have a deter-
rent effect on future violations.
Scope of prosecution depends on whether the conflict is
internal or international. Under the Geneva Conventions, if a
conflict is internal, a perpetrator can only be prosecuted for
genocide or crimes against humanity, but not for grave
breaches of the Geneva Conventions on humanitarian law or
other war crimes. Genocide and crimes against humanity
have stricter definitions and are more difficult to prove than
war crimes. The war in Yugoslavia was deemed an interna-
tional conflict, therefore the ICTY has the ability to prosecute
war crimes and grave breaches of the Geneva Convention, as
well as genocide and crimes against humanity. As the conflict
in Rwanda is an internal matter, the ICTR’s jurisdiction only
covers the latter. Thus, when used to adjudicate internal con-
flict, the jurisdiction of a tribunal is limited.
4.10.8 Organization
Establishment, personnel, and structures
The United Nations Security Council created the ICTY
and the ICTR. In both cases the UN adopted a series of reso-
291
Wrongs: Truth
Commissions and
War Crimes Tribunal
lutions calling first for the establishment of a commission to
investigate violations of humanitarian law and then, upon
recommendation of the commission, the establishment of a
tribunal to prosecute those guilty of violations. The time-
frame and territory covered by each tribunal was established
upon their creation.
In the case of Rwanda, the question arose as to whether to
create an international or national mechanism for prosecu-
tion. An international tribunal was preferred on the basis
that it would be less biased, have a wider jurisdiction, and
have more resources at its disposal. However, it was argued
that a national tribunal would serve to enhance the legiti-
macy of the new regime and would be more sensitive to the local
community’s needs. In Ethiopia, a war crimes court conduc-
ted proceedings regarding the acts of officials of the Dergue
ruling group under the dominance of President Haile
Mariam Mengistu. Currently, the ICTR is based in Tanzania,
and it is working in conjunction with Rwandan national
courts to prosecute war criminals, although the Tribunal has
primacy over national courts.
Both tribunals have the same three-section structure. The
three arms are the Judges’ Chambers, the Offices of the Pro-
secutor, and the Registry. The judges are divided into two
trial courts of three judges each and a five-judge appeals
chamber. The judges are responsible for issuing indictments
and hearing and deciding cases. The UN General Assembly
elects the judges serving on the tribunals. The Office of the
Prosecutor has the responsibility for investigating alleged
crimes, framing indictments, and prosecuting cases. The
chief prosecutor is appointed by the UN Security Council
and is assisted by a deputy prosecutor and other staff. The
Registry is the administrative division of the tribunal and per-
forms a wide array of functions including recommending
protective measures for witnesses, providing counselling for
victims, and handling appointment of defence counsel.
Although the ICTY and the ICTR are separate entities, they
do share some of the same personnel, such as the five appel-
late judges and the chief prosecutor.
Resources
An international tribunal needs substantial financial, per-
sonnel and infrastructure resources.
The ICTY has sought $US 70,000,000 from the United
Nations to cover operating costs for 1998. Funding for the tri-
292

bunals has come primarily from the United Nations,

although some funding is received from voluntary contribu-
tions. A large staff is necessary for conducting investigations
and administering the tribunal. Approximately 400 people
staff the ICTY. A tribunal should have access to computer and
storage facilities for court records, testimony and evidence.
Another important resource is legal and investigatory
expertise. In order to maintain credibility, a tribunal must
conduct thorough and fair investigation and trials. To this
end, evidence must be carefully gathered, documented, and
preserved, and prosecution and defence attorneys must be
highly competent. Many non-governmental organizations
have contributed volunteers and conducted training pro-
grams for tribunal staff.
Links to other mechanisms
As discussed above, the work of war crimes tribunals is
closely related to that of truth commissions. Both fulfil inves-
tigatory functions to seek the truth and hold individuals
accountable for violations of human rights. War crimes tri-
bunals can utilize information gathered by commissions,
which have investigated human rights abuses. Also, as seen in
the Rwanda case, international tribunals can work in con-
junction with national courts by dividing the workload.
4.10.9 Conclusion
Transitional justice remains one of the most widely debated
aspects of post-conflict reconciliation and democracy building.
The type of transitional mechanisms discussed in this section
are attracting increasing attention in many different juris-
dictions. Two prominent but still uncertain cases of demo-
cratic transition – Bosnia and Indonesia – have both been
accompanied by calls for the establishment of local truth and
reconciliation commissions, for example. Despite the very
different circumstances in which these two countries find
themselves – post-war reconstruction under the auspices of
the international community in Bosnia, and an uncertain
transition from authoritarian rule in Indonesia – the attrac-
tion of some mechanism to address wrongs committed in the
past remains strong. This illustrates the potential perceived
utility of such mechanisms for delivering justice, even under
very different circumstances.
293
Wrongs: Truth
Commissions and
War Crimes Tribunal
The possible establishment of a permanent international
criminal court to prosecute war criminals and perpetrators of
genocide is another illustration of the emerging interna-
tional consensus on the issue of transitional justice. Such a
court would effectively supplant the temporary mechanisms
used since World War Two to prosecute crimes against
humanity, such as the Nuremberg and Tokyo war crimes
tribunals and the ad hoc United Nations tribunals for
Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia. The court may have juris-
diction over the most serious crimes of concern to the inter-
national community, such as genocide, crimes against
humanity and war crimes. It would not supersede national
courts but rather play a complementary role. The court
would particularly play a role when national institutions are
unable to act – such as where existing institutions have col-
lapsed due to internal conflict, or where a state is unwilling
to act to try its own nationals. In sum, it appears that post-con-
flict societies may well soon have a permanent international
forum from which to seek justice.
294
DESIGNING A WAR CRIMES TRIBUNAL
War Crimes Tribunal: A judicial body created to investigate

and prosecute individuals accused of violations of human
rights or humanitarian law in the wake of violent conflict. The
purpose of a war crimes tribunal is to restore peace and deter
future violations by enforcing the norms it upholds. The key dif-
ference between it and a truth commission is that a war crimes
tribunal has the ability to prosecute persons accused of human
rights violations.
DESIGN FACTORS
Staff. Ample staff with appropriate expertise.
Placement. Situated in a location where it will have the most public
impact on the society affected, as a visible image of justice.
IMPLEMENTATION FACTORS
Credibility. Maintenance of credibility by investigating and prosecuting
all sides of a conflict equally and precluding in absentia trials.
Use of accepted rules of procedure and standards of evidence. The ICTY and
the ICTR utilize the same set of rules in order to avoid questions of
fairness.
Number of defendants. Reduction of the number of defendants to a
manageable range by focusing prosecutorial efforts on the central core
of individuals who planned and organized the systematic violations of
humanitarian law, as opposed to everyone who may have committed
abuses.
CONTEXTUAL REQUIREMENTS
■ Co-operation from relevant international bodies in the apprehension
and enforcement of indictments.
■ Support of local government and its participation in the proceedings.

CHALLENGES AND PITFALLS
Lack of evidence. It can be difficult to gather enough evidence to
support convictions. In the case of senior officers it can be especially
difficult to link the perpetrator with the crime. These difficulties can be
enhanced when a tribunal can only prosecute crimes against humanity
or genocide. Under these conditions, the tribunal must prove a
systematic attempt to destroy an ethnic group.
Compliance. States are often reluctant to co-operate in the
apprehension of indicted war criminals. States can actively inhibit
apprehension by granting immunity to the alleged criminals. Kenya
and Zaire have both harboured individuals indicted by the ICTR.
Timing. Tribunals cannot begin operation immediately, as they first
must have a trained staff and infrastructure in place. These delays can
lead to frustration and a lack of support on the part of the population.
This can hamper a tribunal’s effectiveness in achieving its goals of
building confidence in democracy and the rule of law.
Security concerns. As with truth commissions, potential witnesses may
fear reprisals and therefore may be deterred from testifying.
Lack of resources. Shortage of funding and/or trained personnel can
erode the effectiveness of a tribunal.


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Former Yugoslavia”, Coalition for International Justice. 20
November, 1997.
“Fact Sheet on The International Criminal Tribunal for
Rwanda”. Coalition for International Justice. 25 November,
1997.
298
Michael Lund
Case Study: Guatemala
GUATEMALA
Overview
The December 1996 signing of a final peace agreement between the Government
of Guatemala and the Guatemalan National Revolutionary Unity officially ended a
36-year civil war and was the culmination of a series of 14 previous accords. The
Guatemalan peace process was noteworthy in several important respects:
– the accords covered a wide range of democratization, human rights, and socio-
economic issues, the resolution of which would radically change Guatemala’s gov-
erning processes and social relations; but agreement on these issues preceded,
rather than followed, a formal cease-fire;
– rather than the settlements leading to elections and creating a new democracy,
the peace process was fostered to some extent by electoral and democratic
processes that preceded the war by several years (but these processes became
more vigorous and significant as they were brought into the peace process);
– the negotiations deliberately solicited and incorporated views expressed by the
business community and other elements of civil society; and
– implementation of certain accords was handed over to special national commis-
sions and forums devised and run primarily by Guatemalans, rather than to
organs and representatives of the UN and the international community.
But despite the inclusiveness of the peace process and the breadth of the settle-
ment, a significant gap still persists between the main protagonists in the negotia-
tions and the interests of ordinary Guatemalans. Thus, if the various implementa-
tion mechanisms prove unable to overcome the influence of entrenched corporate
and military interests, many of which are represented in the Congress, they will fail
to alter relations between various interests, which is needed to progressively attain
the accords’ far-reaching goals.
The Conflict
Reacting to a history of diplomatic and military intervention in Central America
by the United States and Britain on behalf of foreign commercial interests, a nation-
alist movement emerged in the 1940s which elected two reformist presidents who
were determined to modernize Guatemala economically, expand its social services,
Guatemala
and bring about land reform. But this “Guatemala Revolution” was thwarted in 1954
by the US Central Intelligence Agency. An invasion force was launched, providing
the pretext for a coup d’état in the capital: a more authoritarian government was
installed, which repealed agrarian reform policies and clamped down on political
opposition.
Until the mid-1980s, Guatemala was ruled by military-dominated governments
that were repressive and variously corrupt. They suspended democratic institutions
301
and the rule of law, banned political parties and trade unions, and engaged in illegal
repression through “disappearances”, extra-judicial killings, torture, and other
human rights violations. The communist party organized a Marxist-Leninist resis-
tance movement that received support from the Cuban Government and adopted
the guerrilla tactics of the day. Its nucleus was former military personnel opposed to
Guatemala being used as a base for the April 1961 Bay of Pigs invasion in Cuba. The
first phase of the conflict ended, however, when the army essentially defeated these
forces by the end of the 1960s.
The second phase began with the emergence of two new resistance organizations
in the mid-1970s, operating primarily out of the indigenous areas of the country.
The Government continued to ban and persecute all leftist organizations, to perpe-
trate torture and extra-judicial killings, and to conduct rural scorched-earth cam-
paigns. Thus, the armed conflict constituted a struggle between, on the one hand,
a rural-based insurgency and populist urban democratic opposition movement, and
on the other hand, a corporate and military-controlled government. With compet-
ing Cold War ideologies also at stake, both sides had external suppliers of money
and weaponry. The indigenous Indian populations were especially hard-hit by the
war. Campesinos were recruited to fight as guerrillas or in government-led “civil
patrols”, and the Government in particular targeted thousands of innocent indige-
nous Indian communities in rural areas suspected of harbouring guerrillas. Thirty
years of war left 100,000 to 150,000 civilians dead or “disappeared”, over one mil-
lion displaced persons and refugees, and over 400 villages completely destroyed.
Overall, the Government and paramilitary forces were estimated to have been
responsible for 80 per cent of the non-combatant deaths and for 50,000 disap-
pearances, giving Guatemala the reputation as Central America’s worst human
rights violator.
In 1982, an alliance of guerrilla forces and leftist and populist forces formed the
Guatemalan National Revolutionary Unity (URNG). By the mid-1980s, the URNG
had garnered wide support in Guatemalan society, including many Catholic priests,
as well as foreign sympathy; a degree of military stalemate had set in. For its part,
the military saw the need by 1985 to begin to return to democracy. Multi-party
democracy was formally restored, and since then elections have been regularly
held.
However, participation in the elections remained low, coup attempts remained
Guatemala
a threat, and the Government did little to address economic issues or social ine-
qualities. Military-influenced governments continued to take advantage of a weak
judicial system and corrupt police force to maintain power. Criminal violence and
drug trafficking flourished.
Ultimately, the military and the main business interests supporting it realized
they could not achieve economic growth through foreign investment and aid unless
peace was restored. In addition, the labour unions and other opposition groups,
who had reorganized themselves into the Union and Popular Action Movement
302
(UASP) in 1988, began to advocate pragmatic social and economic reforms that
could make headway in negotiations. By the early 1990s, the Guatemalan conflict
had shifted to a primarily political struggle over issues of representation and public
policies. Widening support for meaningful democracy was evident.
The Negotiation Process
As the Cold War drew to a close and several other Central American governments
held democratic elections, two regional peace efforts also provided the impetus for
specific negotiations. The Contadora group, composed of Colombia, Venezuela,
and Panama and led by Mexico, came close to mediating an agreement in 1985. In
1986, Guatemalan President Cerezo convened a summit meeting of the five Central
American presidents in Guatemala, where they committed themselves to negotia-
tions to achieve peaceful settlements of the three ongoing wars, to further demo-
cratization and development, and notably, to the role of the United Nations rather
than the Organization of American States as facilitator and mediator. In Guatemala,
a National Commission on Reconciliation was created with Bishop Toruno of
Zacapa as chair.
Toruno initiated informal consultations among representatives of different sec-
tors of civil society: the legal political parties, business people, priests and lay church
leaders, unions, and academics. The result was agreement on the need for constitu-
tional reform, more popular participation in government, respect for human rights,
and improved social welfare.
Toruno then facilitated direct negotiations between the Government and the
URNG in 1991. This produced an agreement on democratization principles, inter-
national verification, an agenda and procedures for further discussion, and the role
of a UN mediator, but made little progress regarding civil rights. Further talks in
1993 produced a framework agreement that then led to four accords on human
rights, refugees, a truth commission and indigenous rights.
Five further accords were signed in 1996 regarding socio-economic and agrarian
issues, civilian power and the military, a cease-fire, constitutional reform, and re-
integration and reconciliation of former combatants. By late 1996, no less than 15
accords, including the final peace agreement in December 1996, had been negoti-
ated over five years between the URNG and three successive governments.
Although these accords were fostered and mediated by regional leaders, domes-
Guatemala
tic leaders, and particularly the UN, the progress of the peace process in Guatemala
can be attributed more to the changes occurring in Guatemalan politics than to the
tutelage of the UN and the international community. A confluence of pressures
came from several directions: a populist-oriented armed insurgency; modernizing
rightwing governments; a strengthening of civilian politicians vis-à-vis the military;
the rising influence of civil society (initially the economic interests of the emerging
Guatemalan business class but increasingly labour and other mass-based groups);
and the influence of reformism within the military itself.
303
The Settlements
The human rights accord of March 1994 pledged the Government to end
impunity for human rights violations and illegal security structures, and foresaw the
creation of professional security forces, the protection of human rights workers, and
the immediate establishment of MINIGUA, a UN verification body. MINIGUA’s
tasks were to investigate and publicize human rights violations, ensure follow-up in
addressing them, and assist others in promoting protection against human rights
violations and in creating a culture of respect for human rights. The resettlement
accord of June 1994 called for improving local conditions and services to allow the
return of uprooted people, expediting the processing of their return, and for legal
changes to encourage return of land to original owners or their compensation.
Another June accord created a three-member commission to document past human
rights violations since the beginning of the conflict. This truth commission has the
power to determine institutional responsibility for violations of human rights, but
not to name names or bring cases for prosecution.
The indigenous population, composed of Mayan, Xinca, and Garifuna peoples,
was not represented in any peace negotiations. But the need to address their inter-
ests was clearly recognized. Thus, the rights of the indigenous population were
explicitly addressed in a sweeping agreement in 1995. This accord affirmed the
Government’s intention to address discrimination against the majority indigenous
population, by reforming the municipal code, decentralizing the educational system,
promoting media rights for indigenous peoples, and recognizing the need for com-
munal ownership of land. All 22 linguistic groups in Guatemala were accorded offi-
cial status, and the Government committed itself to support the use of their lan-
guages. But the details were left to the implementation process, through the work
of the designated commissions.
A definitive cease-fire was agreed between the Government and the URNG in May
1996, along with a socio-economic accord that included agrarian issues. The accord
addressed taxes, expenditures on health, housing and education; citizen par-
ticipation in decision-making; a land bank, and access to land for campesinos. But it
did not require tax reform and said little about land reform. The peace process cul-
minated in the September 1996 accord, which required reforms in the legislative,
Guatemala
judicial and executive branches. The role of the military was redefined, and its size
reduced by a third. The existing police force would be transformed into a profes-
sional civilian body, the civil defense patrols that had fought guerrillas in the high-
lands were abolished, and internal security was given to a civilian intelligence
agency. Subsequent accords addressed the details of the cease-fire, created an elec-
toral commission, and reincorporated the URNG into the normal legal life of the
country.
304
Implementation
The accords pointed toward a major restructuring and transformation of Guate-
malan society. But the accords did not themselves require structural changes; their
specific meaning was left to be settled by new implementation mechanisms that were
created or envisioned by the accords. These mechanisms can be divided into inter-
national and domestic mechanisms for carrying out various agreements, and the
actual changes in the ways of government itself, some of which resulted from the
accords and some of which occurred apart from the formal negotiations process.
MINIGUA implemented the human rights provisions of the March 1994 accord
by setting up offices throughout the country to take complaints on violations and
promote local capacity for human rights. This deterred violations and thus enabled
the 1995 elections to proceed peacefully.
National-level institutional innovations involved representatives of domestic inter-
ests in the complex issues and responsibilities of effecting a durable peace. These
included commissions on the identity and rights of indigenous peoples, judicial
reform and modernization, the displaced, civil-military relations, incorporation of
the URNG, etc.
One of the most unusual processes was the Assembly of Civil Society (ASC), man-
dated by the January 1994 accord with Bishop Toruno in the chair. For eight months
in 1994, a broad array of social, labour, women’s, and religious groups, along with
major political parties, met and developed consensus positions on all aspects of the
peace process agenda. All sectors except the business community were involved.
Their recommendations were then forwarded to the UN moderator of the talks.
Subsequent agreements between the Government and the URNG were then to be
submitted to the ASC for ratification, thus giving them the character of national
commitments. The ASC gave opposition groups an opportunity to work together in
developing concrete policy proposals.
Other changes occurred completely apart from any specific accord, but were
obviously spurred by it. To show good intentions toward the peace process as well as
to obtain international legitimacy, the military abolished forced conscription in
mid-1994 and the system of military commissioners in 1995, and it demobilized the
civil defense patrols in 1996, even before the peace accord required it.
Guatemala
Prospects
There is little immediate likelihood of a renewed war in Guatemala, because the
URNG and Government have come to control their militant flanks. But violence
and intimidation continue and re-escalation remains possible. The military con-
tinues to play a role in public security, and thus behind the scenes in politics as well,
in part because of increased crime, kidnappings, and drug trafficking and because
the dismantling of the civil defense patrols has left a security vacuum in the coun-
305
tryside where disputes over land are arising. But the military itself has yet to be held
to a significant accounting of past human right abuses because of its continued
political influence and the weakness of the judiciary system. A Public Prosecutor’s
Office has been established and the new code on criminal procedure is in effect, but
justices still have difficulty rendering decisions independently. The police force,
moreover, is insufficiently staffed and continues to have links to some of the milita-
rized groups. The truth commission has only operated since 1997, and its limited
powers make it unclear whether it will strike a balance that adequately alleviates the
deep grievances felt by the many victims of past offenses.
The least advanced aspect of the accords is the removal of discrimination against
indigenous peoples and the transformation of rural society and local decision-
making. It is being assumed that more equitable social policies and higher social
spending will be possible when efficiency is gained from economic reforms, economic
growth stabilizes, and state revenues increase. And yet the Congress continues to be
dominated by groups that represent more established and better-off national inter-
ests, who seem committed to fighting against implementation of the accords.
The Guatemalan parties have gone to the international community to pay for
over half of the $US 2.6 billion needed to implement the accords from 1997 to 2001.
But it is the broad-gauged and intersecting processes that have been set in motion
in Guatemala that will mainly determine whether, over the long term, the country
will leave the traditional patterns of governance clearly behind. Although large busi-
ness interests predominate, Guatemala’s politics overall are fragmented, and the
channels for the participation of hitherto excluded groups of citizens are only
beginning to have influence.
In spite of its implementation problems, the Guatemalan peace process has
demonstrated the value of giving detailed attention to issues of process and consul-
tation, even though it may be argued that there has been insufficient progress on
core issues such as social inequalities. Questions of how truly participative the
process has been in terms of including affected groups from outside the major par-
ties (such as indigenous communities, trade unions, etc.) have also been raised. The
initial credibility and legitimacy of the democratization experiment may not last
long without attention to these issues, and meaningful progress on the widespread
social changes envisaged in the peace settlement.
Guatemala

Byrne, Hugh. December 1996. “The Guatemala Peace Accords: Assessment and
Implications for the Future”. Washington Office on Latin America (WOLA).
Holiday, David. February 1997. “Guatemala’s Long Road to Peace”, Current
History. pp. 68–74.
Kovaleski, Serge. “Guatemala Mourns Crusading Bishop”. Washington Post, 29
April, 1998. p. A23.
306
McCleary, Rachel. February 1996. “Guatemala: Expectations for Peace”, Current

History. pp. 88–92.
Padilla, Luis Alberto. June 1997. “Peacemaking and Conflict Transformation in
Guatemala”, Working Paper of the Conflict Early Warning Systems Project
(CEWS), University of Southern California, Department of Political Science.
Prado, Tania Palencia and David Holiday. February 1996. Towards a New Role for
Civil Society in the Democratization of Guatemala. Montreal, Canada: International
Centre for Human Rights and Democratic Development.
Guatemala
307
4.11 Building an
Electoral Administration
Peter Harris
4.11 Building an Electoral Administration
A country emerging from a conflict may need to build or

restructure the processes by which it conducts elections. In this
section, we identify some of the major issues that need to be
considered in developing the form and structure of a country’s
electoral administration.
4.11.1 The nature of the electoral process

4.11.2 Critical factors in election administration
4.11.3 Functions of an electoral administration
4.11.4 Location of the electoral body
4.11.5 Fears and concerns
4.11.6 Conclusion
Box 13 Electoral Administration: International Trends

(pp. 315–316)
One of the central issues that a country emerging from a pro-

tracted conflict must consider is the nature and suitability of its
electoral administration system. The previous electoral adminis-
tration may have been damaged or destroyed or perhaps, as is
more often the case, may lack credibility and legitimacy through
its association with the previous government. Or it may be sim-
ply necessary to alter certain aspects of the existing administra-
tion to address particular concerns. These decisions will have
significant consequences for a country’s democratic develop-
ment.
But before any legislative provision is made, the principles
and procedures of a free and fair electoral process must be made
absolutely clear. In addition, the most appropriate institution to
manage this process, as well as its level of autonomy and loca-
tion, must be decided. Depending on these decisions, specific
provisions relating to an electoral administration should be en-
shrined in the appropriate legislation.
This section examines the three essential questions that need
to be addressed in structuring an electoral administration sys-
tem:
308
4.11 Building an Electoral

Administration
– Who or what body should be charged with the responsibil-

ity of supervising and organizing an election?
– What form should that body take?
– Where should that body be located?
4.11.1 The nature of the electoral process
There are certain features about the electoral process, both
practical and political, which must be kept in mind when con-
sidering the type and location of an electoral body:
– Elections are national and local events. They require a cen-
tralized effort that is able to extend into all areas of the Those in charge of
country. election administration
– Elections should be accessible. Administrators must under- must ensure that the
stand and fulfil this objective. organization and
– Elections are high-pressure events. Once an election date is conduct of an election
set, election administration involves meeting a series of
is right the first time;
deadlines; the political penalty for missed deadlines is
high, both for election administrators and for the govern- failure to fulfil even a
ment. simple election task or
– Elections involve high stakes. The credibility of elections is activity may not only
tied to national stability, and the winning and losing of adversely affect the
elections is tied to political party power. In many post-con- quality of the services
flict situations, elections themselves can precipitate a re-
delivered, but may
turn to violence.
jeopardize public
– Elections are expensive. The administration of elections re-
quires the capacity to spend money economically, effi-
perception of the
ciently and without fraud. competence and
– Elections are periodic events. National elections usually take impartiality of the
place at widely spaced intervals. At the time of elections, an election
enormous short-term staff is required, which then needs to administrators.
be down-scaled between elections.
– Election administration is much more publicly orientated
than many other government functions.
– Election administration is specialized. There is no other gov-
ernment function quite like preparing for elections (ex-
cept perhaps preparing for war). It requires the mobiliza-
tion of tens of thousands of people on an extremely precise
timetable. It also requires moving a myriad of forms, sup-
plies and equipment to thousands of locations throughout
the country. Boundary demarcation, voter registration and
many other technical duties of the election authorities, are
309
4.11 Building an
also specialized tasks.

– Election administrators must be able to balance the de-
mands of the public at large with the rights of individuals,
especially the marginalized and the disadvantaged.
– Elections must exhibit an overriding concern for the greater
public good, as opposed to the good of special interests.
– The electoral process should be predictable, ruled by law
commonly understood and universally applied.
– Elections must ultimately be a nation building exercise,
rather than a divisive one.
4.11.2 Critical factors in election administration
The primary objective of an electoral administration body is
to deliver free and fair election services to the electorate. In
doing this, it must undertake its functions in an impartial and
efficient manner. It must ensure that the integrity of each elec-
tion process is adequately safeguarded from incompetent elec-
tion officials and fraudulent manipulators. Those in charge of
the administration must ensure that the organization and con-
duct of an election is right the first time; failure to fulfil even a
simple election task or activity may not only adversely affect the
quality of the services delivered, but may jeopardize public per-
ception of the competence and impartiality of the election ad-
ministrators.
The most important attributes of any free and fair election,
and of the body vested with running an election, include:
– independence and impartiality;
– efficiency;
– professionalism;
– impartial and speedy adjudication of disputes;
– stability; and
– transparency.
Independence and impartiality. The functioning of an elec-
toral body should not be subject to the direction of any other
person, authority or political party; it must function without
political favour or bias. The body in charge of administering or
supervising an election must be able to operate free of interfer-
ence simply because any allegation of manipulation, perception
of bias, or alleged interference, will have a direct impact not
only on the credibility of the body in charge, but on the entire
process. There are many instances in which the perceived influ-
310

Administration
ence of a political party or parties over the electoral machinery

has severely detracted from the validity of the election result. In
established democracies which have a long history of relatively
free and fair elections there may be, and often are, instances
where allegations of abuse or bias are raised against an electoral
administration; these allegations are then adjudicated upon,
and do not necessarily detract from the credibility of the overall
process. However, for developing and emerging democracies,
there is a much greater degree of vulnerability to allegations of
undue influence and bias, thereby making the entire process
more susceptible to credibility judgements, which then inevita-
bly result in a limited acceptance of election results and of the
process as a whole.
Efficiency. This is an integral component of the overall cred-
ibility of the electoral process. In the face of repeated allegations
and instances of incompetence, it is difficult for an electoral
body to maintain its credibility. Efficiency is critical to an elec-
toral process in that technical breakdowns and problems can,
and do, lead to chaos and a breakdown of law and order. A variety
of factors impact on efficiency, such as competency of staff,
professionalism, resources, and most importantly, sufficient time
to organize the election.
Professionalism. Elections are so important for the function-
ing of a democracy that a specialized group of experts, steeped
in the knowledge of election procedures and the philosophy of
free and fair elections, is warranted to conduct and manage the
process. The advantages of having permanent, highly trained
and committed experts as employees to manage and facilitate
the electoral process are obvious; the benefits can be seen in
countries with permanent and professional electoral ad-
ministrations, such as Elections Canada and the Australian Elec-
toral Commission, whose electoral expertise has been drawn
upon by a variety of developing countries in Asia, the Pacific, Af-
rica, Latin America and the former Soviet states. Many perman-
ent commissions are able to organize an election on extremely
short notice and on instruction from the government of the day;
they are, in effect, in a permanent state of readiness.
It should be noted that even in many European countries
(e.g., the Scandinavian countries and France) in which elections
are organized by government ministries, there is a permanent
body within that ministry which is tasked with the full-time
management and conduct of elections.
311
4.11 Building an
Impartial and speedy adjudication. Provisions should be made

for a special mechanism to process and adjudicate electoral
complaints, as allegations of abuse and disputes between parties
or in relation to the election management body are inevitable.
Political parties, and civil society in general, are entitled to have
their complaints heard in a speedy and efficient manner and by
a judiciary or a body in which they have faith.
In societies in which confidence in the judiciary is low, politi-
cal participants have insisted that a separate adjudicatory pro-
cess be set up for electoral issues. The electoral administration’s
credibility will depend, in large part, on its ability to handle elec-
tion-related complaints. Given the fears and suspicions that of-
ten exist during transitional periods, the electoral body should
be given the resources and jurisdictional ambit to meet the ex-
pectations of the population in ensuring free and fair elections.
In South Africa’s first democratic elections in 1994, one of the
mechanisms employed by the parties was to establish a division
within the Independent Electoral Commission to monitor the
entire administration and conduct of the electoral process and
to ensure that it was free and fair in all its aspects.
Transparency. The overall credibility of an electoral process
is substantially dependent on all relevant groups, from govern-
ment and civil society, participating in the formation and func-
tioning of the electoral structure and processes. In this respect,
the value of constant consultation, communication and co-oper-
ation between the electoral administration, the political parties
and the institutions of society cannot be over emphasized. In the
formulation of the legislative framework of an electoral admin-
istration, this aspect should receive particular attention.
4.11.3 The functions of an electoral administration
The functions of an election administration body vary from
country to country. In some countries, for example, the elec-
toral body handles the adjudication of electoral disputes while
in others they are handled by a completely separate structure.
Many countries have separate “demarcation committees” that
determine the boundaries of constituencies. The division of res-
ponsibilities can also vary. For example, the electoral adminis-
tration body can have the overall supervisory or monitoring role
for elections, while a government ministry or department can
undertake the administrative functions. There are at least eight
areas around which functional divisions must be established
within an electoral commission:
312

Administration
– a personnel division to recruit and train officials throughout

the country;
– a financial division to manage the budget;
– a legal division for drafting regulations, developing proce-
dures and evaluating complaints;
– an investigative division to review complaints;
– a logistical and administrative division responsible for admini-
stration of the process, communications, and distribution
of election materials;
– a data processing or information technology division for pro-
cessing election results and statistics;
– an information and publicity division to develop education
programmes and to disseminate decisions taken by the
commission; and
– a liaison division with the task of interacting with govern-
ment and independent agencies.
4.11.4 The location of an electoral body
Once the functions and features of an electoral body have
been considered, it is then necessary to determine where that
body should be situated. To put it in its simplest form, there are
two competing options: inside the government, or outside the
government in an electoral commission. However, there are sub-
stantial variations on these two options, based on a variety of
facts and circumstances, four of which are discussed below.
Government approach. The first model is that the electoral
body is located within a government ministry and is charged
with the responsibility of conducting and managing elections
and utilizing all the resources of that ministry and the civil servi-
ce to achieve the task. This system works well in cases where the
civil service is respected as being professional and politically
neutral. This is used in many western European nations.
Supervisory or judicial approach. A variation on the above is
that a government ministry is tasked with the conduct of the
electoral process, but is supervised by an independent electoral
commission consisting of selected judges (i.e., the case in Pakis-
tan and Romania). The task of the commission is to oversee and
monitor the conduct of the electoral process by the relevant gov-
ernment ministry.
Independent approach. The third model is that an indepen-
dent electoral commission is established that is directly account-
313
4.11 Building an
able to a minister, a parliamentary committee or to parliament.

Some electoral commissions utilize government resources from
provincial administrations and local authorities (e.g., India). In
other cases, the commission may establish its own infrastructure
at a national, regional and local level (e.g., Australia). In either
case, independent electoral commissions need to have a subs-
tantial degree of financial and administrative independence
from the executive government. But while they may be financially
and politically independent, they remain subject to stringent
financial controls determined by parliament.
The selection process for appointing electoral commissioners
should be transparent and impartial. Ideally, the selection
should be based on a consensus of the political parties contest-
ing the elections and be individuals with the relevant experience
and expertise and who also have a reputation for independence
and integrity. The precise number of commissioners may vary
from one, with a number of deputies, to any reasonable num-
ber. However, the number of commissioners should not be such
as to make the operation of the commission unwieldy and cum-
bersome.
Multi-party approach. A fourth model is to have all registered
political parties designate representatives to the national elec-
tion commission. This ensures that various interests are repre-
sented on the commission and that each party can exercise some
form of oversight concerning the operation of the commission.
The problem associated with this is that in transitional situa-
tions, the number of parties often proliferates, thereby resulting
in an unwieldy and ineffective commission. Secondly, the com-
mission may be comprised of individuals who lack the requisite
skills and/or experience to ensure effective operation of the
commission.
4.11.5 Fears and concerns
In every electoral process, and particularly in countries in
transition, there are often genuine fears and concerns relating
to both technical or administrative areas of potential abuse or
incompetence, and which reflect the critical interests of a par-
ticular party or constituency. It is essential, without compromis-
ing the integrity of the process, to address the specific interest or
concern before it affects the legitimacy of the entire process.
Typical fears or concerns can include:
– Concern that electoral officials are from or linked to a
community rather than imposed from outside;
314

Administration
Box 13
ELECTORAL ADMINISTRATION: INTERNATIONAL
TRENDS
In established democracies, national and local government
officials often handle electoral administration; while ordinary
courts settle disputes, as they have a tradition of fairness and neu-
trality and generally enjoy the confidence of the electorate.
In emerging democracies, on the other hand, there is an
increasing trend to establish an independent electoral
commission. This is seen as an important step in building
traditions of independence and impartiality, as well as in building
the confidence of the electorate and parties in the electoral
process. Most new democracies in recent years have adopted
independent electoral commissions. Their positive contribution
in difficult or transitional situations can be seen, for example,
during the 1991 parliamentary elections in Bangladesh and the
1992 presidential election in Ghana, as well as during the first
democratic elections in Namibia, South Africa and Mozambique.
Africa. The trend in Africa, particularly Southern Africa, is
towards establishing independent electoral commissions, which
have varying degrees of autonomy in terms of their relationship
with the government of the day (e.g., South Africa, Namibia,
Ghana, Malawi, Mauritius and Mozambique).
Asia. Independent electoral commissions are a long-standing
feature of a number of Asian democracies, including India and
Sri Lanka. Emerging Asian democracies, such as Thailand and
the Philippines, have also followed the route of establishing an
independent electoral commission.
Commonwealth countries. Commonwealth countries, such as
Australia, Canada and India as well as a number of African
Commonwealth states tend to favour the adoption of an
independent electoral commission as the vehicle for the
administration of their electoral processes.
Eastern Europe. Hungary, Slovenia, Romania, Poland,
Czechoslovakia and Bulgaria, all established central commissions
for their crucial transitional elections in 1989 and 1990. Russia
can also be added to this list.
Latin America. In Latin American countries there is a long
history of electoral administration which pre-dates similar reforms
in Spain. As a consequence, the influence of the colonizing states
on election administration practice, generally, has been limited
and has led to the development of a wide variety of approaches.
Furthermore, the liberalization of political systems in the last
decade has led to substantial changes in the electoral system and
major electoral reforms. Specific examples include Nicaragua and
Costa Rica where the national electoral authorities have status as
a “fourth branch” of government.
315
4.11 Building an
In Argentina, Brazil, Chile and Uruguay, legislation defines the

electoral authority as an independent institution, but operating
within the judiciary. In Panama, the electoral tribunal has
complete autonomy to manage its own budget once funds have
been allocated for this purpose by the executive and approved by
the legislative assembly. The budgets of most of the electoral
authorities are prepared to cover ongoing operating costs, often
related to the permanent register and for the conduct of periodic
elections. The budgetary authority generally requires the approval
of the executive. In Mexico, a permanent electoral council, the
Federal Election Institute (IFE) was established to organize the
national electoral process; a second body, the Federal Electoral
Tribunal, adjudicates electoral complaints. In addition, an
independent special prosecutor to prosecute electoral crimes
(ranging from excess campaign expenditures to intimidation or
vote buying) was also created.
Western Europe. Most West European countries locate the
electoral administration within a government ministry, usually the
Ministry of Interior; a permanent department within the ministry
is established to manage elections. In the majority of these
countries the organization and the resources of the established
political parties allow them to conduct sophisticated and detailed
monitoring exercises to ensure an impartial administration of the
election process.
The most effective model depends upon the relative maturity
of the national political system. In cases where election
administration previously was in government hands with a one-
party or other authoritarian system with no opposition, voter
confidence is only likely to be inspired if opposition party
representatives or nominees are co-opted into election
administration, or if the commission is seen to be independent
from government and political influence. The process of
appointment of commissioners is important and should be as
inclusive and participatory as possible.
Also, the adoption of a type of electoral administration that
meets international principles is not, in itself, sufficient to ensure a
free and fair process. Provisions must be made to ensure it is
credibly implemented and administered. Achieving this objective
requires that election officials are impartial and/or independent
and that the electoral contestants and the public perceive them as
such. Where impartiality is in doubt, election commissions and
review bodies comprising representatives from diverse political
interests may provide a remedy by achieving balanced composition.
Administration, a system of checks and balances, whereby the elec-
toral commission is subject to review by independent legislative,
judicial and monitoring bodies, enhances the credibility of the
process.
316

Administration
– That electoral officials and structures should be perma-

nent and not transient entities that change according to
varying circumstances;
– Lack of training and discipline of electoral officials in rela-
tion to electoral processes;
– Need for a speedy, efficient and impartial adjudication sys-
tem in relation to electoral complaints;
– Need to keep costs to a minimum and avoid waste and fraud;
– Concern that one party may dominate the process;
– Concern that there may not be complete independence
and impartiality;
– Need for co-ordination between the provincial and nation-
al elections as well as their relations with the local govern-
ment elections;
– Concern that the incumbent party may abuse and manipu-
late government resources to its advantage.
It is important that each of these concerns is considered. In
this regard, the value of constant consultation, communication
and co-operation between the political parties and the institu-
tions of society needs to be re-emphasized. Only after giving
each of these concerns due consideration can a decision regard-
ing the appropriate type and location of an electoral body be
reached. If a particular fear or concern cannot be met or allayed
in relation to the form, structure and location of the electoral ad-
ministration, then an appropriate safeguard or checking mecha-
nism should be installed to ensure that parties do not become dis-
affected and alienated from the process. Safeguards can include:
– Appointing an independent adjudicatory mechanism for
complaints;
– Appointing a special “demarcations committee” account-
able to parliament;
– Having an independent broadcasting authority for regula-
ting the quality, time and access provisions for broadcast
media;
– Having the department of census or a “census committee”
for population counts as the basis for demarcating con-
stituencies;
– Having particular aspects such, as finances and budget,
made accountable to a parliamentary committee or body;
– The entire electoral administration can be made account-
317
4.11 Building an
able to parliament, or to a multy-party committee, if neces-

sary.
4.11.6 Conclusion
The crucial factors to be taken into account in any evaluation
of appropriate electoral administration systems include:
– the recent history of a country, particularly in relation to
the nature and extent of its recent conflict and the type of
interaction between the parties;
– the relative maturity of the national political system;
– the resources of the country (financial and material);
– the potential credibility of the intended electoral body;
– the potential competence of the intended electoral body;
– the exigencies of the electoral process such as speed and
flexibility;
– the danger of interference by an individual, organization
or government with the electoral process;
– the necessity to ensure an equitable distribution of capa-
bility and resources in terms of election administration
throughout the country, thereby eliminating the risk and
perception of elections being competently run in certain
areas and not in others;
– the necessity for the adoption of a long-term view in choos-
ing an electoral administration, bearing in mind the
dynamic nature of society and politics.
It is the electoral administration, or body charged with the
management and conduct of the election, that sets the tone and
direction of the electoral process. This is particularly true in
post-conflict situations, where neutrality and fairness in demo-
cratic elections is a key to building long-lasting social peace.
It is the responsibility of election administrators to lay a sound
foundation for the delivery of free and fair election services.
They will be judged by the public on the basis of their efficiency
and impartiality. In this regard, an electoral administration’s in-
dependent or neutral status, ability to identify and appoint com-
petent and impartial staff, and its success in delivering what the
country sees as a free and fair election will ultimately be the test
of its success.
A final critical factor is the issue of the cost and sustainability
of the structures and procedures established. Each and every de-
cision concerning the location and form of an electoral adminis-
318

Administration
tration will have cost implications. Unless the structure decided

on is affordable and can be maintained by the country, it will not
be sustainable in the long term.
REFERENCES1 AND FURTHER READING

Dundas, Carl W. 1993. Organising Free and Fair Elections at
Cost Effective Levels. London: Commonwealth Secretariat.
Paper presented by Larry Garber (USAID) at the African
Election Administrators Colloquim in Victoria Falls,
Zimbabwe, November, 1994.
Goodwin-Gill, Guy S. 1994. Free and Fair Elections in
International Law. Geneva: Inter-Parliamentary Union.
1
Thanks to Pat Keefer of the National Democratic Institute (USA) and Keith
Klein of the International Foundation for Election Systems (USA), on whose
advice to the South African Constituent Assembly in 1995 I have drawn for this
section.
319
4.12 National Machinery
for Gender Equality
Nomboniso Gasa
4.12 National Machinery for Gender Equality
Transitions from deep-rooted conflicts offer a unique opportunity to

lay the foundation of a democratic and equal society. Central to any
transition process is the need to examine closely the gendered aspects
of nation building and to institute concrete mechanisms to ensure
that all people – women and men, girls and boys – can enjoy
freedoms and participate equally in society. In this section we
examine how national machinery for gender equality can be
institutionalized by looking at how three countries, Uganda,
Australia and South Africa, have addressed this issue. In the case
study that follows we discuss the implementation of one mechanism
in greater detail, South Africa’s Commission for Gender Equality.
4.12.1 Constitutional mechanisms

4.12.2–4.12.3 Executive and administrative structures, and
women’s ministries
4.12.4 Ministry for Gender and Community
Development: Uganda
4.12.5 Office of the Status of Women: Australia and
South Africa
4.12.6 Gender desks/focal points in line ministries
4.12.7 National machinery in the legislature
4.12.8 Successes and limitations of national machinery
4.12.9 Conclusion
Box 14 Gender Equality in the Constitution: Three Examples

(p. 322)
A Menu of Options 5 Mechanisms for Entrenching Gender Equality
(pp. 330–334)
Women have played a major strategic role, both on the battle-

front and in critical support areas, in a number of conflicts over
the last two decades. Moreover, women have been especially
vulnerable in recent warfare. They have made substantial sacri-
fices and borne tremendous burdens in order to advance freedom
320
4.12 National Machinery for

Gender Equality
and democracy. Despite their important contributions, and in

spite of the fact that commitments and tributes have been made
regarding the attainment of an equal society, often in practice
this has not occurred. A post-conflict settlement offers the op-
portunity to develop and implement structures in government
and in society, at an early stage, to ensure that the promises
made are kept, and to make sure that the issue of gender equal-
ity is not marginalized.
During the past decade, there has been an unprecedented
emphasis on ensuring that transition processes include concrete Feminist activists and
and holistic mechanisms to address gender inequality as part of experts have argued
the nation-building process. In fact, mechanisms to address gen-
der issues have shifted from small and often under-resourced that gender equality
bodies to more comprehensive and powerful machineries. The issues should not be
international debate on gender equality and women’s emanci- treated as separate
pation has moved away from viewing equality as an issue that “women’s issues”, but
concerns only women, to an understanding of the implications
of unequal power relations on society as a whole. Feminist acti-
as structural questions
vists and experts have argued that gender equality issues should that confront society
not be treated as separate “women’s issues”, but as structural in general.
questions that confront society in general.
The current debate on gender equality examines the unequal
division of labour and access to and over resources, and the ways
in which women and men are affected by programmes and poli-
cies that are supposed to benefit society at large. This analysis
encourages an understanding that broad socio-cultural process-
es and socialization influence the roles that women and men
play. In order to address gender-differentiated responsibilities
and differentiated access to and over resources and decision-
making, a comprehensive and systematic strategy is needed.
4.12.1 Constitutional mechanisms
The constitution, as the supreme law of the land, is a starting
point for addressing gender equality and in setting precedents
for the entire society. Many bills of rights include clauses that ex-
plicitly address gender equality. In countries like Namibia, Ca-
nada and South Africa, these clauses are seen as crucial for ad-
vancing women’s rights and equality. South Africa, for example,
is hailed internationally for not only institutionalizing equality
for women in its constitution, but for providing a strong frame-
work to address other forms of inequality such as discrimination
on the grounds of sexual orientation. In many countries, gen-
der-neutral language is used throughout the constitution to en-
321
for Gender Equality
sure that women are not excluded. Again South Africa’s consti-
tution goes one step further in that it specifically uses gender-
sensitive language, spelling out issues and their implications.
Since constitutions are interpreted by courts, it is important
that the method of constitutional and judicial review also en-
hances gender equality. In addition to the role of high courts in
judicial review, general systems of legal administration have seri-
ous implications for women in terms of access to legal recourse
and redress against administrative actions that perpetuate sexu-
al discrimination. In South Africa, for example, the Constitutio-
nal Court, although not established for gender equality issues per
se, is seen as an important institution for ensuring that interpre-
tation of the law and the constitution is in keeping with principles
of equality.
Box 14
GENDER EQUALITY IN THE CONSTITUTION:
THREE EXAMPLES
South Africa. The state may not unfairly discriminate directly or
indirectly against anyone on one or more grounds, including race,
gender, sex, pregnancy, marital status, ethnic or social origin,
colour, sexual orientation, age, disability, religion, conscience,
belief, culture, language and birth.
Chapter 2, Bill of Rights
Namibia. No persons may be discriminated against on the
grounds of sex, race, colour, ethnic origin, religion, creed or social
or economic status.
Article 10
Canada. Every individual is equal before the and under the law
and has the right to the equal protection and equal benefit of the
law without discrimination based on race, national or ethnic
origin, colour, religion, sex, age, or mental or physical disability.
Bill of Rights
4.12.2 Executive and administrative structures

But formal equality, as provided for in a constitution and
related laws, does not guarantee substantive equality; provisions
in the constitution for substantive equality must support formal
equality provisions. The concept of substantive equality involves
creating access to legal and constitutional remedies for inequal-
ities that stem from particular disadvantages.
322

Gender Equality
During the 1970s and 1980s, debates on these issues empha-

sized the need for an overarching body that could address the
concerns of women. In 1976, the United Nations launched the
Decade for Women, recommending that member states ratify
the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimina-
tion Against Women (CEDAW) and implement “national mac-
hinery” for the improvement of the status of women. In
response to this call, many countries established special
women’s ministries and programmes to promote the advance-
ment of women. National machinery refers to a variety of struc-
tures and legal frameworks inside and outside government to
build and promote gender equality in all spheres of life. These
can include:
– Ministries for women’s affairs/gender and development
– Departments of women’s affairs
– Offices on the status of women
– Gender desks in line ministries
– Commissions for gender equality
The definition of “national machinery” is extended in many
countries to include institutions that monitor human rights and
related issues; in this way gender equality issues are seen also as
human rights issues. In Canada, for example, the Human Rights
Commission may take up gender issues. Similarly, in South Afri-
ca, the Human Rights Commission, the Constitutional Court
and the Office of the Public Protector (Ombudsperson) are
seen as crucial structures, amongst many others, for gender
equality issues. In Namibia, the Office of the Ombudsperson is
specifically briefed to include gender equality issues in its scope
of investigation.
4.12.3 Ministries for women’s affairs
The “traditional” ministry for women’s affairs is part of the ad-
ministrative bureaucracy of the state and receives its own bud-
get. Its functions may include, among others, drafting policy on
women’s issues; drafting legislation for tabling in parliament;
representing the interests of women in the cabinet or to the
head of state; and conducting development programmes for wo-
men. Most women’s ministries do not enjoy status in the cabinet.
They fall under the president or prime minister’s office, which
means they have less autonomy and power to influence policy.
In France, however, the women’s ministry can veto legislation.
323
for Gender Equality
A major criticism of women’s ministries is that they can be-

come ghettoized “dumping grounds” for all issues that deal with
gender equality and women’s issues. They are allocated smaller
budgets as a result of the low priority and importance assigned
to them. As a result, ministers outside the women’s ministry can
fail to address gender equality issues in their jurisdiction. Wo-
men’s ministries are often linked with other portfolios concern-
ing children, disabled people, youth and development, as is the
case in Uganda.
4.12.4 Ministry for Gender and Community
Development: the case of Uganda
The Ministry for Gender and Community Development in
Uganda was established in 1988, at the end of the long and hor-
rific Ugandan civil war. Then called the Ministry for Women in
Development, Youth and Culture, the ministry has existed un-
der a variety of names. Its current name reflects the shift in thin-
king, especially by Ugandan women who wield influence, that a
women’s ministry cannot do it alone and that real attempts must
be made to integrate gender issues in the work of other min-
istries.
In the early 1990s, the head of the Ministry for Gender and
Community Development was appointed vice president of
Uganda; a move seen by many as a real boost for the ministry.
Currently, the ministry is strengthened by the presence of two
ministers of state, one responsible for gender issues and the
other for community development issues. The ministers of state
are similar to deputy ministers in other countries, with the ad-
ded advantage that they sit in the cabinet.
Despite many people’s reservations with such ministries,
Ugandan women feel that this structure, which has served them
for nearly 10 years, works well for their situation. They view the
ministry as a declaration of their government’s commitment to
address women’s concerns and gender equality issues.
Nevertheless, Ugandan women are also quick to point out the
problems that the ministry faces. The most significant problem
is lack of funding. From the start, the ministry did not get suffi-
cient funds allocated for its work. Uganda is a poor country and
the civil war that ravaged the country has created shortfalls in
many areas. The lack of funding created not only a problem for
the ministry’s operations but also reflected lack of national pri-
ority for these issues. Despite being headed by the vice presi-
dent, the work of the ministry, in fact, is not considered a prior-
324

Gender Equality
ity issue. There are also concerns about the extent to which the
ministry is independent and able to challenge government policy.
In addition to the women’s ministry, Uganda and other coun-
tries such as Australia and South Africa have gender desks in line
ministries and other independent bodies (discussed below).
4.12.5 The Office of the Status of Women: the case of
Australia and South Africa
A second mechanism, the Office of the Status of Women
(OSW), evolved out of the recognition that women’s machinery
should be located in a central co-ordinating department and not
exist as a separate marginal entity. The OSW is located in the
highest decision-making offices. The major objectives of the
OSW are:
– To shape government policy to ensure that gender equality
issues are integrated into the overall policies and pro-
grammes of government;
– To help develop a gender policy framework for govern-
ment and develop mechanisms to monitor and evaluate
progress;
– To provide government with all information necessary to
implement programmes for gender equality;
– To monitor government progress or lack thereof in imple-
menting government policy, international covenants and
charters;
– To develop systems for disaggregation of gender in all gov-
ernment information;
– To co-ordinate gender desks or women’s units in line min-
istries.
In Australia, executive responsibility for the status of women
in the federal government is located in the prime minister’s of-
fice, while policy advice and administration is provided by an Of-
fice of the Status of Women, based in the Department of the Prime
Minister and Cabinet and managed by a senior civil servant.
The Office on the Status of Women in South Africa, similar to
its Australian counterpart, is based in the presidency, currently
in the deputy president’s office. It is headed by a deputy minis-
ter responsible for gender equality and youth development, but
its ultimate head is the deputy president. The OSW is repre-
sented in the cabinet through submissions and presentations
made by the deputy president’s office.
325
for Gender Equality
Like its Australian counterpart, the OSW’s major objective is

to influence and shape government policy in order to ensure
that gender equality issues are integrated into the overall poli-
cies and programmes of government. The South African OSW is
also charged with developing a gender policy framework for gov-
ernment and developing mechanisms for monitoring and eval-
uating progress or lack thereof. Currently, the OSW is develop-
ing mechanisms for gender disaggregation of all government in-
formation and statistics. This is seen as a crucial mechanism for
monitoring progress. Countries like Sweden, which disaggregate
their information on the basis of gender, report substantial achi-
evement in terms of making visible the impact of policy, budget,
laws and programmes on the lives of women.
Similar to the women’s ministry in Uganda, the OSW co-ordi-
nates with line ministries and monitors their performance. The
Australian OSW has developed important mechanisms for eval-
uating government progress and for ensuring effective commu-
nication and consultation. Over the years, it has pioneered the
“Women’s Budget Statement” which is a commentary on the im-
plications and impact of national expenditure on the lives of wo-
men and in advancing the status of women. South Africa has its
“Women’s Budget Initiative”, produced by the Committee on
the Quality of Life and Status of Women in conjunction with the
Finance Portfolio Committee in parliament and other structures
like the Commission for Gender Equality.
One of the major strengths of the OSW is its location inside
the government machinery rather than as a separate entity. Both
the Australian and the South African models are focused on po-
licy co-ordination with government rather than on programme
delivery. This model ensures that mechanisms that address gen-
der equality are established in all departments, rather than the
OSW becoming the “dumping ground”.
4.12.6 Gender desks/focal points in line ministries
In addition to women’s ministries, women’s departments,
gender commissions and other structures, many countries have
“gender desks” or “gender focal points” in line ministries. As the
debate shifted towards having more comprehensive machinery
for women’s issues, gender focal points were recognized as an
important component of the national machinery. Gender desks
or “women’s units” as they are called in Australia (or “cells” in
India) are small offices in line ministries. They are responsible
for monitoring progress on women’s issues and on advising on
gender policy. The advantage of gender focal points is that they
326

Gender Equality
are integrated into the departments and are part of the depart-
mental machinery. They have access to discussions in line min-
istries and have the potential to affect policy and budgetary pro-
visions.
The disadvantage of gender focal points is that they do not
have direct access to the cabinet, and consequently are not in-
volved in decision-making at the cabinet level. Departments
themselves determine their priorities, making it difficult to pri-
oritize gender equality issues. Similarly, it is often left to depart-
ments to determine the scope of influence and priority given to
gender focal points. Often, the desks do not enjoy support staff.
There is also danger of marginalizing gender focal points with-
in line ministries or creating a departmental “dumping ground”
for gender equality issues. In Uganda, women have warned em-
phatically against gender focal points, saying that often the offi-
cers appointed are not senior enough to wield any authority in
the department.
4.12.7 National machinery in the legislature
The legislature is one of the most crucial institutions in the
national machinery. While electing women to parliament is seen
as one of the best mechanisms for promoting gender equality, in
the past decade the debate has emphasized the need to develop
strategies that seek to take women beyond numbers, to ensure
that the equality agenda is entrenched in parliament. There are
several options for promoting and mainstreaming the gender
equality agenda into the legislative process. These include:
– Special committees or women/gender committees;
– Women’s caucuses (multi-party);
– The requirement that a certain number of women repre-
sentatives are present in the legislature before a bill is
passed;
– Ensuring that on every parliamentary committee there is
one person representing gender issues.
The major objective of these mechanisms is to ensure that any
legislation passed takes into account women’s experiences and
equality issues. In the case of South Africa, for example, the
Committee on the Quality of Life and Status of Women plays a
major role in monitoring the implementation of CEDAW, the
Beijing Platform of Action and the overall equality programmes.
This committee, like the Australian OSW, has also initiated a wo-
men’s budget initiative. Women’s caucuses can also become a
platform for women across the political spectrum to meet, set an
327
for Gender Equality
agenda and lobby on women’s issues.

These structures also provide viable mechanisms for women
in NGOs and civil society in general to interact and work with
women in parliament. However, it is often difficult to get a mul-
ti-party women’s caucus established, especially in historically
divided countries like South Africa. There, a Women’s Parlia-
mentary Group has taken a long time to get going but it is suc-
cessful in keeping issues alive. Many of these structures can also
be replicated at provincial and local government levels.
4.12.8 Successes and failures of the national machinery
From the experiences of the countries discussed above, cer-
tain features that have proven valuable in enhancing the effec-
tiveness of national machinery for women include:
– effective independent advisory councils;
– power and authority to effect change;
– transparency and inclusivity;
– good links between national machinery and the women’s
movement as well as links with women at grass-roots level;
– methods in which machinery is established and imple-
mented; in countries where the structures are a result of
debates and discussions from the grass roots and con-
stituency levels, rather than top-down structures, they
appear to be more successful;
– in some cases, highly visible ministers and parliamentarians
and public education mechanisms have helped boost these
structures.
Among the common weaknesses include:
– the possibility of marginalization of these structures;
– lack of research and research capacity;
– gender insensitivity in the judiciary; and
– lack of funding.
4.12.9 Conclusion
All options have inherent strengths and weaknesses, and the
success or failure of each is often influenced by issues beyond
the power of the institutions themselves. Often, the arrival at a
workable and effective option involves trial and error. There is
no straight path to be walked and there are no formulas. The
process involves a little bit of dancing, trying this step and that
until a comfortable rhythm is found. It is also important to note
that without democratic organs of civil society and women’s
328

Gender Equality
organizations, national machinery cannot work effectively.

There is a need for a dynamic and creative relationship between
the “formal” structures of the national machinery and civil soci-
ety. Whatever machinery is chosen, the over-arching principle
remains the same – addressing women’s issues is critical to the
broader emphasis on inclusion stressed in this handbook.
We can all learn from each other’s histories, successes and fail-
ures. Countries that are going through transition have the added
advantage of creating something new. In creating a national
machinery, imagination and political will are of fundamental
importance. Without them, even the best mechanisms will fail.

Bazilli, Susan ed. 1992. Putting Women on the Agenda.
Johannesburg: Ravan Press.
Bryce, Quentin. May 1993. “Developing Effective
Government Machinery for Women: The Australian Case”.
Paper presented at the Conference on Ensuring Gender
Equality in the New South Africa, Johannesburg.
Gasa, Nomboniso. 1995. “Strategies for Effective
Intervention”. Unpublished paper presented at the
International Symposium for Gender Equality. Managua,
Nicaragua.
Ginwala, Frene. 1992. “Women and the Elephant”. In Bazilli,
Susan. ed. Putting Women on the Agenda. Johannesburg: Ravan
Press.
Karam, Azza. ed. 1998. Women in Parliament: Beyond Numbers.
Stockholm: International IDEA.
Kazibwe, Speciosa Wandira. 1992. “A national scheme for the
advancement of women in Uganda”. Paper presented at the
Workshop on Structural Mechanisms to Empower Women in
a Democratic South Africa, University of Durban, Natal.
O’Neil, Maureen. May 1993. “Is the Canadian Experience
Relevant?” Paper presented at the Conference on Ensuring
Gender Equality in the New South Africa, Johannesburg.
Report of the Information and Evaluation Workshops,
Commission for Gender Equality, Pretoria, June 1997.
Gender Equality Act, No 39 of 1996, Republic of South Africa.
The Constitution of the Republic of South Africa, 1996.
329
MECHANISMS FOR ENTRENCHING GENDER EQUALITY
National machinery must be institutionalized to ensure that

gender equality issues are acknowledged, respected and
implemented. Government, and society in general, must commit to
gender equality at an early stage to make sure that these issues do
not get marginalized. Below we list some of the mechanisms by
which this can be achieved and implemented, and the advantages
and disadvantages of each.
Mechanism/ Implementation Advantages Disadvantages

Objective
Constitutions During negotia- Because of the

I. Constitution and Bill of Rights
No disadvantages,
delineate princi- tion processes, in prominence of except that con-
ples and reveal a societies emerg- the constitution stitutional provi-
country’s political ing from conflict, and its legal sions do not guar-
commitment to during a constitu- standing, it is eas- antee equality.
issues. Therefore, tional review ier to influence Legislation and
wherever possi- process, in estab- society in which other mecha-
ble, gender equal- lished democra- the law of the nisms to ensure
ity should be cies; land declares a substantive equal-
enshrined in con- Negotiation commitment to ity must comple-
stitution. process offers a gender equality. ment constitu-
tremendous tional provisions;
opportunity to General agree-
ensure that gen- ments and state-
der equality is ments of intent
integrated and made at negotiat-
entrenched in the ing tables do not
building of a new always translate
nation. into long-lasting
commitment to
equality.

Objective
Act as catalyst in Usually headed Access to

II. National Machinery in Government
Ministry for Women’s Affairs
Danger of
building gender by minister or decision-making marginalization
equality; deputy minister; processes and in cabinet and in
Responsible for Allocated budget offices; government in
implementation by central Possibilities to general;
of government budgeting office; influence May become
gender policy; Senior political government “dumping
Represent women staff is usually policies and ground” or
and gender appointed by the programmes; “ghetto” for
equality issues in minister; Status in the women’s issues;
government; Senior civil cabinet (if Since part of the
Monitor servants usually headed by a government,
implementation pulled from civil minister); ability to
of gender service or Equal status with challenge
equality recruited from other ministers, government is
programmes by outside. which minimizes limited;
other ministers; possibility of Often, if not
Prepare being always,
government undermined. underfunded
reports in with little support
relation to structure;
equality; May become
Draft gender isolated from
equality policies women’s
or frameworks. movement;
Resentment by
other ministers
for “interfering”
with their
departments;
Appointment of
minister by
government can
be inhibiting,
particularly in
relation to
political
independence.

Objective
Shape and Can be provided Located within Usually has

Office of the Status of Women
influence for in the government, limited status in

government constitution as often in relation to the
policy; part of national president’s or executive;
Help develop machinery or prime minister’s May have limited
gender established by act office; influence on
framework for of parliament; Can easily government
government; Usually headed integrate with policy;
Help develop by a minister or work of Its strength
mechanisms to deputy minister; departments as it depends on the
monitor and Senior political is not a “separate” support of its
evaluate progress; staff appointed by ministry; political head
Provide minister; Can provide (e.g., the
government with Senior civil expertise for president/prime
all relevant servants recruited gender work in minister);
information from civil service the government. As with the
necessary to or from outside. ministry, fact that
implement head is appointed
programmes for by government
gender equality; may be
Co-ordinate inhibiting.
gender equality
work within
government.
Co-ordinate Usually provided Can be easily No direct access

Gender Desks
gender policy at for in the country integrated in the to cabinet;

departmental framework for department; Often no support
level; national Offers staff;
Part of machinery opportunity to Can become a
implementing (usually in the integrate gender departmental
team at national strategy work in “dumping
departmental document). departmental ground”;
level; programmes;
Officers often
Monitor progress Can be involved have little
or lack thereof. in actual authority;
implementation
Cannot work on
of gender
its own.
equality policies
in departments.

Objective
Review existing Inddependent, Platform for

III. Independent and Statutory Bodies
Commission for Gender Equality
Needs adequate
and new statutory body; public debate of funds;
legislation; Accessible to the gender policies Needs political
Investigate public; and education; support.
complaints or acts Open and public Has significant
of discrimination appointment power to effect
on grounds of process of implementation
gender; members. of policies and
Conduct public programmes by
education on government and
issues pertaining public institutions
to gender (e.g., universities,
equality; private
companies);
Conduct
research; Independent
statutory body, so
Monitor/review
not tied to
policies of public
government.
funded bodies in
relation to
implementation
of gender
equality;
Recommend
legislation.

Objective
Ensure that According to Part of legislative Often under-

IV. National Machinery in the Legislature
The Committee on the Status and Quality of Life for Women
gender equality parliamentary process; funded.

considerations rules regulating Offers invaluable
are integrated in establishment of entry point for
all legislation portfolio and women’s
tabled before special movement and
parliament; committees. other actors;
Monitor Ability to
implementation influence
of Beijing legislation;
Platform of
Often can
Action and
propose bill in
CEDAW;
parliament.
To provide
platform and
point of influence
for women’s
movement and
NGOs.
Women’s Caucuses/Groups
IV. National Machinery in the Legislature
Platforms for According to Provide Often difficult to

women parliamentary opportunities for establish;
parliamentarians rules. women to Some political
to meet, share interact; parties do not
experiences and NGOs can lobby like idea of
strategize on effectively women’s
forwarding through women’s caucuses;
gender equality caucus. Process of
agenda in
arriving at
parliament;
working
Provide space for relationship is
women across complex and
party-political exhaustive;
lines to lobby on
Often women’s
various issues.
causes do not

Case Study: The Commission for Nomboniso Gasa

Gender Equality in South Africa
THE COMMISSION FOR GENDER EQUALITY IN SOUTH AFRICA
The struggle for gender equality in South Africa is a long and complex one.
South African women struggled to ensure that during the transition to democracy,
their experiences and their needs would be taken into account. During the negoti-
ations for a democratic settlement in South Africa, it was apparent that both the
principles of equality and non-sexism as well as the concrete mechanisms to achieve
these goals must be enshrined in the constitution. The model that South Africa
chose to ensure this is the product of years of vigorous debate, consultation and
comparative analysis. While it draws on features from the international experiences
of Australia, Canada and Uganda, the result is uniquely South African.
The South African national machinery has five main components:
– The Commission for Gender Equality;
– Structures in the legislature: special committees such as the Committee on the
Quality of Life and the Status of Women, and the women’s caucus;
– Structures in the administration: the Office on the Status of Women, and gender
focal points in line ministries;
The Commission for Gender Equality

– Other bodies: Human Rights Commission, Office of the Public Protector and the
Constitutional Court;
– Organs of civil society: e.g., NGOs and the women’s movement.
In this section, we focus on the Commission for Gender Equality as one example
of how national machinery for women’s issues can be organized and implemented.
Objectives
The Commission for Gender Equality (CGE) is one of the six State Institutions
Supporting Democracy enshrined in Section 119 of the South African Constitution.
The commission’s objective is to promote gender equality and work towards equal
status between women and men. According to the Gender Equality Act of 1996, the
CGE is an independent statutory body that should not be subject to any pressure
from government or any other person.
The CGE is not an implementing body. It makes recommendations to parliament
and government and monitors the effective implementation of programmes to
effect equality. Specifically, it has the following powers and functions:
– To monitor and review policies and practices of all publicly funded bodies includ-
ing the business sector;
– To review existing and new legislation to ensure that it promotes equality, and,
where necessary, to recommend new legislation to parliament;
– To investigate complaints on any gender related issue; if need be it may refer to
other structures such as the Human Rights Commission or the Constitutional Court;
337
Case Study: The
Commission for Gender
Equality in South Africa
– To monitor and report on compliance with international conventions such as the

Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women,
or the Beijing Platform of Action and other South African documents like the
South African Charter for Effective Equality;
– To conduct research or recommend that research be conducted to further the
objectives of the commission;
– To investigate matters that are brought to its attention, the CGE may search any
premises on which anything connected with investigation is or is suspected to be
violating the constitutional provisions for gender equality; may call people or
institutions to appear before it in order to pursue any investigations brought to
the attention of the CGE and may hold public hearings on any issue relevant to
its work.
Membership
– Composition. The CGE is composed of 12 members, women and men, who are
broadly representative of provincial diversity in South Africa.
– Appointment of members. The state president, following an open and democra-
tic nomination process, appoints the commissioners. The process of appointing
members to the commission is crucial in ensuring that the body is independent

and efficient. It is a public process to which a number of people and organiza-
tions contribute: the government publishes a notice in the government gazette
and invites nominations; the notice is publicized in major newspapers and radio
stations, including local stations; names are submitted to a multi-party ad hoc
committee set up for this purpose in parliament; this committee shortlists and
interviews candidates; interviews are open to the public; the final names are then
put to the president after review by parliament; the president makes the final
choice and appoints the commissioners and designates the chairperson. This
process, although long and time-consuming, is very important in ensuring that
the commission that emerges is one to which South Africans from different back-
grounds can relate. It makes it easier for people to know the commissioners, to
improve access to the commission, and to curb nepotism.
Structure and personnel
– Provincial offices. One of the critical aspects of the legacy of apartheid in South
Africa is the uneven development of provinces and the marginalization of the
rural provinces. The policy of the democratic government is to try and redress
these imbalances. In keeping with these principles, and also understanding the
critical need to be accessible to all South Africans, the CGE decided to have
provincial offices. The provincial offices are headed by a commissioner and have
the necessary administrative and research facilities.
– Committees. The CGE has a number of committees concerning matters such as
legal issues, policy and research, public education, and so on. The committees are
338
Case Study: The Commission for

headed by a commissioner and comprise experts and activists in the specific

area.
– Staff. The CGE has an extensive backup staff, including researchers, legal
experts and administrators. A Chief Executive Officer (CEO) heads the
administrative staff.
Parliament
Commission
Committee
Committee
Committee
Committee

Chief Executive
Committee
Committee
Committee
Officer
Committee
Staff
Technical
Staff
Experts
Technical
Staff
Experts
Technical
Staff
Experts
Technical
Experts
South African Commission for Gender Equality

* Handbook on National Machinery, Courtesy of the CGE
Strengths
– Provides a forum for discussion, education and implementation. The CGE
can play a critical role in ensuring that constitutional provisions for gender
equality are implemented. It provides a forum in which issues pertaining to
gender equality are addressed. It is a useful instrument for educating the pub-
lic about their rights and for raising national consciousness.
– Power and authority. The CGE has the power to effect the changes that are
required. If its recommendations are ignored, or if key politicians or the pri-
vate sector fail to address gender inequalities in their institutions, the CGE can
339
Case Study: The
take these issues to the Constitutional Court.

– Includes people with different expertise and experience, both experts and
activists. The strength of the CGE lies in the manner in which it approaches its
work. It is comprised of people with different expertise and experience and
includes a balance between experts and gender equality activists.
– Commitment to accessibility. Commissions of this nature are usually seen as aloof
and inaccessible. In contrast, the most positive aspect of the CGE is its commit-
ment to accessibility, and the fact that it values the contribution and experiences
of its constituency. For example, in its 12-month existence, the CGE has held pub-
lic hearings on a number of issues, including the impact of poverty on the lives of
women. In these public hearings, women from previously marginalized commu-
nities define their own understanding of how poverty affects their lives and their
access or lack thereof to the constitution’s gender equality provisions. The ratio-
nale for these hearings is that gender oppression interfaces with other forms of
oppression. In order to address inequalities on the basis of gender there is a crit-
ical need to understand these “other” oppressions. These public hearings are not
just about obtaining information, but about bringing the issues onto the public
agenda so the country can engage in discussion and debate.

– Enabling factors. The work of the commission is greatly facilitated by a number
of factors including the provisions in the South African Constitution and the gen-
eral political climate which is positive to gender equality.
– Flexible and open mandate. The commission’s mandate does not limit the areas
of investigation, research and litigation; it allows the commission to look at the
variety of forms of inequality and its interface with other forms of oppression.
Limitations and resources needed
– Funding. Although pains have been taken in the selection process and in its cre-
ation to ensure that the CGE is independent, government nevertheless allocates
its funding. There is a general agreement that funding for commissions of this
nature, in the future, should be allocated in the national budget and not by indi-
vidual government departments. This would help to ensure that the commissions
are able to evaluate government policy and practices objectively and fairly.
Funding is a crucial issue, since without funding and resources the extent to
which these structures can work effectively is severely limited. It is important that
the funding is seen to be without strings attached.
– Marginalization. Despite the powers and scope of the CGE and despite its
dynamism, there is still a danger of marginalization. This danger can be eradi-
cated depending on the work that the CGE is able to accomplish, since margin-
alization of gender equality is a result of lack of consciousness and/or political
commitment.
340
Case Study: The Commission for

– Resources needed. The main resources needed by the CGE are financing,
political support, information, access to key files and documents (government
or otherwise), and skilled and experienced staff.
– Political support. Political support is important because it sends a message of
how seriously the government of the day views these structures. This support
and respect can help ensure that the commission has access to all key govern-
ment documents.
Lessons learned
– Accessibility and confidentiality. Accessibility of the commission to ordinary
people and the confidentiality with which issues are taken up is very impor-
tant. Some of the people approaching the commission may feel the need to
keep their identities secret and information confidential. It is important that
this is respected.
– Links with other mechanisms. The CGE will be effective if it works in con-
junction with other structures of the national machinery and other constitu-
tional bodies such as the Human Rights Commission and the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission. There should be an understanding that there is

an overlap between its work and the work of these other bodies. This interac-
tion is also important in ensuring that gender equality is not marginalized and
that the different constitutional bodies integrate gender considerations into
their work.
– Power and authority to effect change. Advisory and monitoring roles are im-
portant, but they work more effectively when commissions have the power to
enforce the policies and constitutional provisions.
– Adequate funding and skilled staff. The need for adequate funds and skilled
staff cannot be overemphasized. Unfortunately, the first budget for the CGE,
allocated by the Department of Justice, was very low and thus made a mockery
of the independence and authority of the commission. This was part of the
international trend in which governments establish mechanisms for equality
and then strangle them with lack of adequate finances. Running costs of struc-
tures like these are expensive, but it is important that governments invest in
the national machinery as it is a crucial aspect of nation building.
– Open and public appointment process. It is also important that the appoint-
ment of commissioners be an open and public process. Perceived bias of the
commissioners can seriously damage both the image and the work of the com-
mission.
The South African Commission for Gender Equality is a positive landmark in
that country’s quest for accessible democracy and equality. It is an effective
mechanism for promoting gender equality and increasing national awareness.
341
Case Study: The
However, its success depends on a variety of factors, many of which are beyond the
commission’s control. Based on this understanding, South Africans opted for a
“package” of mechanisms rather than one structure. Within this package the CGE is
a crucial component.
342
Northern Ireland
343
Sustaining the
Democratic
Settlement
5
For a peace
C H A P T E R
agreement
The overriding to endure,
determinant of whether a
parties to the conflict
peace agreement will
endure is the extent to
must be motivated
which the parties to the
to
avoid
conflict a return
continue to be to
motivated to avoid a
bloodshed.
return to bloodshed.
Once agreement has been reached, it must
endure – and that is the focus of this chapter.
First, this chapter highlights general principles
that should underlie a settlement’s
implementation; next, it analyses the key issues
which can either obstruct or advance the
implementation and sustainability of a
settlement; finally, it looks at the role of the
international community in assisting with the
settlement and its implementation process.
5.1 Introduction
5.2 Basic principles for sustaining settlements
5.3 Issues and concerns
5.4 International assistance and the role of the
international community
5.5 Conclusion
Carlos Santiso,
Peter Harris and
David Bloomfield
Sustaining the Democratic

Settlement
5.1 Introduction
I n order for a peace agreement to endure, the overriding

determinant is the extent to which the parties to the con-
flict continue to be motivated to avoid a return to blood-
shed. If the parties are motivated to avoid this worst outcome,
the settlement is more likely to hold; if any one of them
thinks that violence will reap greater rewards than playing
the democratic game, the settlement will fail. Democracy
offers an alternative model for managing conflicts, but it is
not perfect. As discussed in Chapter 4, interim devices such
as power-sharing arrangements may be essential to keep the
conflicting parties committed to democracy during the cru-
cial early months and years of a settlement, but it is no sub-
stitute for an ongoing commitment to democratic values in
the long term.
During the design of the settlement, the selection of If the parties are
appropriate institutions or mechanisms will be essential for motivated to avoid a
that settlement to be both viable and sustainable in the long return to bloodshed,
term. This is an area that deserves focused attention: an agree-
ment has little value if it cannot be properly implemented and the settlement is more
sustained. Indeed, more harm may be done to the process if likely to hold; if any
an agreement reached does not hold, than if it were never one of them thinks
reached in the first place. The consequent failure may result that violence will reap
in the breakdown of trust and the apportioning of blame greater rewards than
between the parties. This will jeopardize the entire process.
In Angola, the consequences of the breakdown of the Bicesse
playing the
Accords, when Jonas Savimbi refused to accept the result of democratic game, the
the first post-conflict election in 1992 and resumed the war in settlement will fail.
an attempt to gain power by force, resulted in the subse-
quent death of approximately 300,000 people. In Rwanda in
1994, Hutu extremists rejected the Arusha peace accords; the
consequence was the genocide of an estimated 1,000,000
Rwandans. It is therefore imperative to ensure that the settle-
ment persists and is sustained, particularly in the early transi-
tional stage when the process is at its most vulnerable.
345
5.1 Introduction
The purpose of this chapter is to examine the challenges

and obstacles that may affect the sustainability of structures
and of the broader process, once agreement has been
reached and implementation of the transition phase has com-
menced. In some countries, even after agreement has been
reached and the violent conflict ended, the manner of the
implementation (or non-implementation) of the agreement
has weakened the settlement. The Oslo Agreement and the
Declaration of Principles signed in Washington DC in 1993 by
the PLO and Israel, for example, detailed a framework for the
implementation of specific phases that would address the
concerns and interests of both parties. Unfortunately, that
implementation, including the functioning of several key
structures, has virtually ground to a halt since the election of
the Likud Government in May 1996. Sustained efforts to
revive the peace process continue. The validity and legitima-
cy of those peace agreements depended on the implementa-
tion of the parties’ obligations, which is increasingly in
doubt.
In certain cases, implementation may become mired in an
administrative morass, be threatened by corrupt practices, or
lead to an over-centralization or concentration of power.
The role of properly constituted democratic institutions
becomes central, not only to ensure the functioning of the
government and the broader society, but also to act as a
check on the power and influence of government. The liber-
ation of Zimbabwe from white minority rule in 1980 as a
result of the Lancaster House Agreement in London, for
example, was hailed as the dawn of a new era. Eighteen years
on, successive scandals involving corruption, nepotism and
maladministration have increased the risks of possible civil
conflict.
There is also a danger of too much attention being devot-
ed to the form of the institutions detailed in the agreement at
the expense of the substance, or underpinning democratic
framework, that ensures these institutions work. For exam-
ple, an agreement may include provisions for periodic demo-
cratic elections. However, elections themselves cannot
ensure a democratic outcome. Unless other elements of com-
petitive political process are in place to ensure a “level play-
346
5 . 1 I n t r o d u c t i o n
ing-field”, the original agreement on elections may be of lit-

tle consequence.
Similarly, an election that merely confirms previously
existing inequalities of power and cements the status quo will
not advance the democratic process. As one scholar noted of
the wave of democratization in Africa:
“
the continent had over-emphasized multi-party elections ... and
correspondingly neglected the basic tenets of liberal governance.
[Thus,] formal compliance has been commonplace in the
continent, but real changes, evidenced in the drastic and
fundamental re-composition of structures, institutions, patterns
and goals of politics have been very few and far between.
The changing needs and interests of the parties also affect

the sustainability of a settlement. The interests which a partic-
ular institution was originally structured to address may have
altered or dissipated. For example, proportional representa-
tion may be necessary and appropriate for a first generation
election in ensuring an inclusive legislature for the transition to
democracy. But the subsequent need for democratic consolida-
tion may require a greater degree of geographic representation
or electoral accountability, and thus the possible adoption of a
mixed or different system. The debate on the choice of a per-
manent electoral system in South Africa is a good example of
the tension between such different needs. Similarly, several
mechanisms described in this handbook, such as power-shar-
ing arrangements, can be used temporarily at certain stages of
the process and abandoned at others. Preferences and percep-
tions change over time, and the implementation must be
responsive to this by building in an appropriate degree of flex-
ibility.
The responsibility for ongoing assessment and support for
an agreement lies firstly with the parties and the constituent
sectors of society and, secondly, with the international com-
munity. A widespread belief that the international community is
primarily responsible for this task has arisen from the frequent lack
of internal capacity and resources of countries emerging from a
347
5.2 Basic Principles
deep-rooted conflict, and from the perceived impartiality of the

international community. But such an abdication of domestic
responsibility from the agreement is dangerous: it can lead to a
disempowering of the parties, placing distance between them
and the agreement, and resulting in neglect of key responsibili-
ties. The international community can help at the initial stages,
but it cannot guarantee settlements over the long term. In Haiti
in 1995, for example, after the restoration of the Aristide Go-
vernment to power, elections were planned as part of the nor-
malization of society. The timing and processes leading to these
elections caused concern among Haitians, with the result that
when it came to the organization of the elections, a common
view expressed was that if the international community was so
keen on elections, then they should pay for them as well as orga-
nize them.
The ownership of and commitment to the democratic peace
process by the parties involved is thus crucial in sustaining a set-
tlement. This does not mean that international assistance
should be curtailed, but merely that the country or parties invol-
ved should bear the onus, as much as their resources and capac-
ity permit, for the implementation and sustenance of their own
settlement. The international community tends to support peace
settlements for a relatively limited time, quickly scaling down
and ultimately ending its assistance as its priorities and interests
change. Accordingly, in our examination of the task of sustain-
ing an agreement, we will look at both the internal and external
perspectives of building a sustainable settlement. Such a process
should be seen as being distinct from sustaining or consolida-
ting democracy, a far broader and more complex topic which this
handbook, and particularly this chapter, will address only in
part.

New democracies are inherently fragile. Once a new system of
government has been designed, agreed to and implemented,
the priority is to consolidate it. Scholars assert that complete
consolidation is reached when democratic structures have be-
come so institutionalized in society that alternative types of re-
gime have become unthinkable; in short, when democracy has
become “the only game in town”. In terms of behaviour, no sig-
nificant group within society is actively attempting to create any
alternative system or to secede from the established one. In
terms of attitude, society at large has come to believe that what-
348
5 . 2 B a s i c P r i n c i p l e s
ever problems arise can be handled within the existing parame-

ters of this democratic system. And constitutionally, the new sets
of norms, laws and institutions for dealing with conflict have
embedded themselves in the political structure.
But such an evolution takes time. How do we reach that point
where the settlement and the consequent system become effec-
tively self-sustaining? Part of the answer lies in protecting the
structures that have been established, so that they have time to
root themselves into the fabric of a new society. That protection
comes initially from adherence to three guiding principles:
transparency, accountability and participation. These principles are
not completely new to us at this stage in the handbook; they are
also important considerations during the phase of outcome de-
sign. But subsequent to a settlement, they become crucial bench-
marks to evaluate the continuing health of a settlement.
One of the central aims of installing a democratic structure is The degree of
to be better able to manage conflict and difference: monitoring transparency,
its capacity to do so indicates clearly the chances for sustainabil-
accountability and
ity. This evaluation procedure is the basis for most of what fol-
lows in the next section. We look at the principles behind, and participation provide
the concerns regarding, various methods of monitoring a new three crucial
system’s ability to handle tension and conflict. This includes not benchmarks to
only predictable conflicts along previously existing identity- evaluate the
group lines, but also new, unexpected or unforeseen issues of
dispute. continuing health of a
settlement.
5.2.1 Transparency
Transparency refers to openness of the government system.
The process of governing needs to be both visible and under-
standable to the population. As such, it will reassure them that it
is trustworthy, and encourage their support and co-operation,
rather than risking their alienation. This is especially important
in the early stages of a new settlement. Although the democra-
tic settlement may have been conducted and reached in secrecy,
its implementation requires a change in behavior, by opening
up the policy-making process and the government to public
scrutiny. This change in attitudes is sometimes a major chal-
lenge for transitional governments, because it implies the accep-
tance of criticism and dissidence as a healthy “check and bal-
ance”. Such scrutiny, however uncomfortable it may be, tends to
improve the responsibility and accountability of government,
and ultimately contributes to the sustainability of the consolida-
tion process by making it more legitimate.
349
Transparency implies a two-way dialogue between the gov-

ernment and the governed. It provides feedback mechanisms to
the government, which are essential to a government’s capacity
for self-reform. One of the great fears of the governed is corrup-
tion within government. Indeed, there may be good historical
reasons for such suspicion. Transparency provides a defense
against such assumptions. It also offers a defense against corrup-
tion itself, since open government makes corruption more diffi-
cult. Finally, transparency in government processes also increases
accountability and offers safeguards against the usurping of
power (see section 5.3.7 on usurpation).
5.2.2 Accountability
Accountability refers to the answerability of government to the
law and to the people – an essential ingredient of a new democ-
racy. As long as the government remains, in real terms, answer-
able to the population, a self-sustaining regulatory process is set
in motion. Accountability obviously figures most clearly in elec-
tions: if the voters don’t like a government’s record, they can vote
it out of office. But accountability works in at least two other ways
as well.
First, in order to maximize accountability it is possible to put
institutions in place which monitor a government’s progress,
and which can review, comment upon and criticize its perfor-
mance. Such institutions (which will be dealt with in more detail
under section 5.3.11; “Checks and Balances”) need a substantial
degree of independence in order to function as proper watch-
dogs, to truly make the government accountable and to offer,
where necessary, criticisms which will be taken seriously.
Second, accountability is inherent in the separation of powers
which characterizes most democratic systems. Most important in
this separation is an independent judiciary, which retains both
the right and the capacity not only to criticize a government but,
where necessary, to place constraints upon it, block possible
attempts to over-extend its sphere of influence, and to rule on
the legality or otherwise of its behavior. In a democratic system,
no one should be above the law, including members of the gov-
ernment. If the source of the rule of law is seen to be separate
from the organs of government, even the notion of accountabil-
ity can serve to constrain possibly retrogressive actions.
There is no shortage of examples of newly installed democra-
cies where the government, either in the form of a president or
a ruling party, gradually usurps power by enacting decrees which
350
5 . 2 B a s i c P r i n c i p l e s
override elements of the constitution or parts of the new struc-

tures designed in the settlement process: Russia, Peru, Venezu-
ela, Colombia and Argentina come immediately to mind. The
simplest way of protecting against such abuse of power is to share
out power beyond government. With a strongly defined judiciary
and legal system, such abuses are rendered illegal, and there is
a body independent of government that retains the power to call
it to account for its actions.
5.2.3 Participation
When people feel a part of the system, they take a share of
responsibility for it and play a role in making it work. At a basic
level, the electoral process symbolizes such participation. Voting
is a fundamental part of being involved in governance by having
a real say in the choice of government. But participation must
exist between elections too. The attraction of many of the power-
sharing formulae, electoral system choices, national conferences
and other mechanisms outlined in the previous chapter, for
example, is precisely the way that they build confidence by ensu-
ring inclusion of all significant stakeholders in the transition
process.
A key agent of participation is what social scientists call civil
society. Civil society refers to the conglomeration of organiza-
tions and associations which spring up in any society, indepen-
dent of government and reflective of the interests of citizens. It
includes advocacy groups, churches, human rights organizati-
ons, sports clubs, trade unions, NGOs, professional associations,
industry interests, indeed almost any grouping that comes into
existence voluntarily in autonomous form among people.
It is extremely difficult to consolidate a new democracy with-
out a healthy civil society. Civil society operates as the interme-
diary between the basic units of a society – families and individ-
uals – and the state as represented by the government. As such
it can be a powerful means for people to participate in, com-
ment upon, and if necessary criticize the government. Its great
strength is its autonomy: it becomes simply what the individuals
involved want it to become, and takes no direction from gov-
ernment. Civil society acts both as a channel for participation
and to provide useful checks and balances on government
action, ensuring accountability and transparency, especially in
cases where political parties are weak and fail to provide an effec-
tive opposition. Ideally, the relationship between government
and civil society will be mutually energizing: not only can civil
351
5.3 Issues and Concerns
society engender democratization, but in return democratic

structures of government facilitate and encourage lively partici-
pation by civil society.
Political solutions are always more likely to succeed when they
are owned by the people, rather than imposed upon them. The
inclusion of minority groups who were excluded from the nego-
tiation process is central for the sustainability of the agreement,
in order to prevent their transformation into spoilers. For exam-
ple, the December 1996 peace agreement in Guatemala was a
two-party negotiation between the government and the URNG,
excluding majority indigenous communities, other political par-
ties, trade unions, and many others. These groups, if not includ-
ed, could obstruct or even derail the process, particularly if (as
in Guatemala) there is a perceived disjuncture between elite and
popular “ownership” of the process.
The role of political parties, especially opposition parties, as
censors on government action, is also a fundamental feature of
democratic consolidation. Political parties are the means through
which citizens aggregate their political preferences, participate
in the government and voice their concerns. In a sense, they
serve as the intermediary between government and civil society.
The first steps taken towards democracy generally involve the
end of the monopoly on power of the government party in
single-party states and the legalization of political parties. There
is widespread agreement amongst political scientists that broadly
based, coherent political parties are among the single most
important factors in promoting effective and sustainable demo-
cracy. Strong party systems, some contend, are both reflections
of and indispensable prerequisites for good democratic
performance.

The implementation and sustaining of a peace settlement is
fraught with difficulties and obstacles. There will always be
developments, both political and social, that threaten a peace
process. These may be difficult to foresee – such as, for example,
the subsequent rise of nationalism from a minority group whose
needs were not addressed by the settlement. In addition, the
activities of “spoilers” are always hard to predict and plan for.
Apart from the problems related to the building of trust and rec-
onciliation, there may also be substantial difficulties associated
with the construction and development of damaged or shat-
tered economies and infrastructures. Depending on the objec-
352
tives of the settlement, such aspects as the redistribution of as-

sets and the transformation of government may well be beyond
the resources and capacity of the parties.
There will also have been expectations raised by the settle-
ment process itself, and by the parties in the course of mobiliz-
ing the support of their constituencies for the process. These
expectations may be realistic or unrealistic, but in either case
they place an onus on the parties and the process to deliver. If
that does not take place, very soon trust is eroded, recrimina-
tions take place, relationships break down and the process stum-
bles. Particularly in transitions from dictatorships and authori-
tarian regimes, expectations are often unrealistically high. This
results in disappointment, disaffection and loss of constituen-
cies. In some countries, a disillusioned public has even voted
leaders from previously undemocratic regimes back into power.
The moderation of expectations to a realistic level, and the as-
sessment of delivery in relation to those expectations, is an im-
portant part of identifying potential points of breakdown and
conflict at this critical stage of the transition process.
To ensure that momentum is not lost, all possible steps need To ensure that
to be taken to remove any possibility, excuse or means for par- momentum is not lost,
ties to attack the settlement and return to conflict. It is therefore
all possible steps need
imperative that potential difficulties which may negatively affect
the process are identified and acted on at an early stage. We to be taken to remove
therefore list here some key issues and concerns that may affect any possibility, excuse
the sustainability of a settlement. Some of the issues raised may or means for parties
appear to be relatively straightforward and simple, but it is preci-
to attack the
sely these issues which have, in practice, hindered or even derai-
led many nascent peace processes. settlement and return
to conflict.
5.3.1 Monitoring and evaluation
All settlements require ongoing assessment to check progress
and maintain focus. This can comprise keeping to agreed time-
frames, ensuring that delivery meets expectations, and guarding
against neglect, abuse or manipulation of the process or the in-
stitutions that comprise it. Monitoring and evaluation mecha-
nisms should ideally be built into the settlement itself. This was
the case in South Africa, where the UN monitored the
implementation and maintenance of the 1991 National Peace
Accord, which was aimed at ending the political violence that
was tearing the country apart and threatening the entire transi-
tion. In El Salvador, monitoring of the 1991 Chapultepec Ac-
cords was built into the process through the establishment of an
353
internal mechanism: the National Commission for the Consoli-

dation of Peace had the task of drafting legislation on agree-
ments and monitoring its implementation, while the United Na-
tions was tasked with monitoring and verification of the peace
agreement.
However, the key lies less in external monitoring or even en-
forcement, and more in maintaining the continued internal
commitment of the parties by ensuring that the process meets
realistic expectations. Optimally, the parties to the agreement,
provided they have the resources and capacity, should conduct
monitoring and evaluation. They should be supported in this
endeavor by the relevant sectors in civil society such as business,
trade unions, churches and other groupings. This in itself con-
tributes to the process of building national consensus and the
development of social compacts.
There is a major difference between short-term monitoring of
key security issues and long-term monitoring of a peace settle-
ment, and of the level of scrutiny required in each case. A par-
ticularly important element, such as the decommissioning of
weapons, may require an independent evaluation exercise. One
example of this was the work carried out by UN peace-keepers
in Mozambique in 1994 and again, with much less success, in
Angola in 1996 and 1997. One component may be so critical
that its non-implementation will undermine the entire settle-
ment. In such situations, effective monitoring and urgent reme-
dial action is critical. Just as important is the evaluation of parti-
cular institutions or structures, such as the transformation of the
armed forces, the administration of justice or the education sys-
tem.
The effect of an evaluation will be greatly enhanced if it is
seen to have been carried out by an impartial body. This may be
a multi-party committee, preferably operating on the basis of
consensus, or a body whose composition is agreed to by the key
parties, or simply an independent international body such as the
UN or some other intergovernmental agency with the necessary
authority, independence, expertise and experience. There are
also numerous watchdog organizations who have the experience
and expertise to assess such specialized areas.
A related issue is the capacity to take action and make reforms
in response to concerns expressed in the evaluation process.
The obligation to address such concerns and take remedial ac-
tion must be clear and unambiguous. At the same time, the par-
ties, civil society and the international community need to react
354
in a consistent and uniform manner if it appears that a settle-

ment process is being manipulated or abused and is in danger
of collapsing. Bearing in mind the limited ability of the interna-
tional community to react on an urgent basis, it is always prefer-
able to have clear obligations that are understood by all parties
in the event of a breach or breakdown in implementation.
5.3.2 Waning commitment of actors
The continued support of the parties for the settlement is cru-
cial. The moment that important participants to the agreement
start to criticize the settlement or distance themselves from it,
the process is in jeopardy. The support of a party will generally
be determined by the extent to which it feels that its interests are
being met and the extent that it remains bound to the settle-
ment.
One of the greatest risks to the implementation of a peace
agreement originates from a recalcitrant party or individual who
decides to manipulate or even destroy the settlement. Hun Sen’s
July 1997 intra-government coup against his coalition partners
in Cambodia following the UN-sponsored election in 1993 is an
example of how settlements can collapse from within. There are
many mechanisms that can be employed to lock a party into an
agreement and deal with recalcitrant groupings. They fall into
three broad categories:
– The use of incentives, inducements or rewards to try to
keep a spoiler in the process by addressing their problems
and fears. The simple allocation of senior cabinet posts has
satisfied many potential malcontents, in the past, as has the
judicious distribution of privilege and status. Accommoda-
tory behavior was applied by the UN and the US, without
success, to Savimbi’s UNITA in the Angolan conflict in
1992 and 1993.
– Establishing or re-affirming a binding framework to govern
conduct by those involved, and designing mechanisms to
deal with any breach. This can result in the legitimization
or delegitimization of a party. The Khmer Rouge’s exclu-
sion from the 1993 Cambodian elections, due to its failure
to decommission its weapons, was an example of this.
– The use of coercion, such as the use or threat of force, or
threatened withdrawal of support for the new regime. This
was used with differing degrees of success in Rwanda and
Bosnia.
355
Other mechanisms include the use of binding agreements

with consequent commitments and ongoing obligations; agreed
codes of conduct from which a party cannot be seen to walk
away; the application of pressure on a party from within its own
constituency; and pressure from the international community,
via a combination of “carrots and sticks”, involving both incen-
tives (investment, trade, credibility and status) and sanctions
(political isolation, economic embargoes of strategic items such
as oil, trade boycotts, and armed intervention).
However, the surest way of keeping a party in the settlement
process is for that settlement to deliver: to meet interests, to sat-
isfy concerns, and to allay fears. But it is not simply a question of
the commitment of the leaders or the parties to the settlement:
equally critical to success is the support of their constituencies
and of the key sectors in civil society. These sectors must feel
that the new regime is their regime, and that they have influence
over it at both policy and practical levels.
5.3.3 Lack of resources and capacity
The issue of resources and capacities is one that arises at every
phase of the process, from pre-negotiation to implementation.
In many cases there is such a disparity of resources between the
various parties that a crucial actor may be unable to participate
fully, if at all. The major consideration to be borne in mind by
both internal and external actors is that no party should be
placed at a disadvantage in the process purely due to lack of
resources.
When crafting the agreement, there needs to be a realistic
assessment of resources and capacities to ensure proper imple-
mentation. This should include an evaluation of the resources
and capacities of the parties themselves, and should be as
detailed as possible, as inconsistencies between the political
agreement reached and the financial resources available to
implement it may undermine the settlement. For example,
there is little point in agreeing on substantial mechanisms to ad-
dress an issue like land redistribution if the incoming govern-
ment lacks the finances to compensate landowners (if that was
agreed), or the capacity to administer the land re-allocation.
New regimes are often in the difficult position of having to
undertake dual reforms, political and economic, simultaneous-
ly. On the one hand, they may have to rebuild a shattered state
and economy, which requires the mobilization of financial
resources for short-term recovery, economic stabilization and
356
reconstruction. On the other hand, they have to strengthen the

state’s capacity for public policy management, especially macro-
economic policy, and long-term planning. If the internal skills
and resources to carry out such reforms are lacking, then this
needs to be acknowledged and addressed either by the country
itself or by the international community.
The international community itself has a serious obligation to
ensure that, in its willingness to assist, it does not allow itself to
be an accomplice in the building of unrealistic expectations, or
allow itself to bankroll processes that are ultimately beyond the
means of the country concerned. In Nicaragua, the first election
in 1990 was heavily funded by the international community, a
pattern that was repeated in 1996. Now, the international com-
munity has stated that such levels of support are unsustainable
and that the government of Nicaragua must investigate ways of
substantially reducing costs, which places a further burden on a
state that already has limited resources. In Mozambique, the cost
of the first post-conflict election in 1994 was borne entirely by
the international community and was so expensive that the
Mozambican Government cannot hope to sustain a similar elec-
toral process without substantial external support. While this is
an area where the international community plays one of its most
important roles – namely the provision of financial and mater-
ial resources to sustain the settlement and transition process – it
must be careful that it does not encourage the establishment of
unsustainable institutions.
5.3.4 Deteriorating economy and development
Economic policy, and in particular a specific policy for eco-
nomic development, is a central part of any settlement. And, as
noted above, a population tends generally to harbour expecta-
tions of economic improvement under a new regime. The best
and most carefully designed settlement can easily fail without a
sound economic underpinning. An economy that fails to deliver
either on underwriting the costs of a new dispensation or on the
development and improvement of the population’s circum-
stances will soon lead to trouble. This is, of course, very easy to
say and very difficult to protect against. In particular, establish-
ing the processes and institutions of a new administration is
extremely expensive – the more so if, as is often the case, pro-
longed pre-settlement violence has resulted in economic and
infrastructural devastation. Some vital developments may have
to be delayed in a process of prioritization dictated by resources.
357
The deepening of economic reforms and the consolidation of

democratic reforms require time. First generation reforms stabi-
lize the economy and initiate its reconstruction. Second generation
reforms then aim to reform the state and build institutions that
will sustain reform and achieve development.
Additionally, if economic resources turn out to be unequally
distributed between previously warring groups, this can swiftly
feed into a renewed sense of grievance among the underprivi-
leged and undermine the chances of successfully seeing the set-
tlement through its transitional phase. Following Cambodia’s
1993 elections, for example, the FUNCINPEC Finance Minister
initiated major reforms to the economy, budget and processes
for fiscal accountability, with considerable support from the
international community. Both his own party and the opposition
turned on him, however, accusing him of treason and eventu-
ally removing him from office and from party membership. Con-
sequently public confidence plummeted, not only concerning
the degree of corruption in government but also regarding the
entire settlement implementation. Similarly, in Zimbabwe, Ro-
bert Mugabe’s pre-election promise of a land redistribution pro-
gramme – a core element of development policy – ran aground
not because the land was unavailable but because the gov-
ernment did not find or make available the resources to buy it.
Peace building also entails strict budgetary planning, especial-
ly in fiscal policy. Tax collection is an essential element of any
government’s economic resources and an effective tax collec-
tion system also shows the commitment of the country to con-
tribute financially to its own economic recovery. In Guatemala,
the inability of the government to collect taxes at a sufficient
level, following the December 1996 peace agreement, has given rise
to problems in implementation and concerns within the inter-
national community.
The capacity to design, formulate, implement, assess and, if
need be, change policies is crucial for economic policy-making
and management. This requires the existence of effective par-
liamentary procedures to enact economic regulations; an effi-
cient judicial system to enforce property or land rights; compe-
tent and accountable executives; the supremacy of the rule of
law and the existence of an environment of legal security; pub-
lic sector and public administration reform, especially in terms
of human resources management; and transparency and ac-
countability of policy-making and implementation in areas such
as public procurement. Monitoring bodies are also necessary to
358
measure such relevant economic issues as growth, distribution,

and development. Often an economic research institute can
play an informed role in monitoring and advising upon such
issues.
The credibility and efficiency of state structures in turn affect
the credibility and efficiency of economic policy, particularly in
convincing economic agents of the coherence, stability and pre-
dictability of the policies adopted and the stability of the policies
implemented. Often, democratic transitions will themselves gen-
erate instability and uncertainty. Here is a contradiction: while
democracy is the “institutionalization of uncertainty” in the
political realm, economic activity needs a certain degree of cer-
tainty and predictability. Hence, basic rules and norms have to
be consolidated. Moreover, political instability generated by, for
example, fragile government coalitions, can weaken the ability
of a government to implement coherent and consistent policies
in the long term. However, the predictability of policies is rooted
not so much in the stability of governments themselves, but in
the consistent application of and respect for the basic norms
and rules of good governance and democratic competition for
power. The normative framework for democratic governance is
thus a key factor in long-term economic development.
5.3.5 Implementation delays
During negotiations to design the settlement, a timetable will
have been agreed for the implementation of the various ele-
ments. This may involve the establishment or reform of a variety
of institutions and events such as elections, parliamentary
reform, new security organs, weapons hand-overs, prisoner
release and so on. Implementing these core changes is vital to
sustaining the momentum of the settlement. Beyond their own
substantive value, the achievement of each of these changes acts
to build mutual confidence and trust between previous political
rivals and to institutionalize further co-operation.
Delays in this process can raise very serious problems, while
also serving as warning signs of problems ahead. Some delays
may be unavoidable. But others may well imply a reduction of
commitment among some parties to the settlement or a reneg-
ing on what was agreed. There is great value then, in regularly
reviewing the progress of the timetable: How much has been ac-
complished? How much of that has gone on schedule? Where
are the delays developing? What or who to holding up progress,
and why? Does the timetable need to be adjusted? Should there
be more consultation with the population?
359
Despite an agreed timetable, delays in Israeli troop with-

drawals rang early alarm bells for the progress of the Israeli-
Palestinian peace process, including the Oslo Accord and sub-
sequent agreements. The 1998 Northern Ireland agreement
built in strict timetables and sanctions to punish delays in imple-
mentation of several of its elements, including standing media-
tion and arbitration mechanisms. Delays, whether for good or
bad reasons, breed discontent. A monitoring and implementa-
tion team may be needed to assess progress on all the aspects of
the agreement, whether formed as a cross-party group or as an
international one. A formally appointed all-party agency which
meets at agreed regular intervals can function to “take the
pulse” of progress, to develop solutions to hold-ups, or to give
transparent explanations for unavoidable delays.
5.3.6 Undermining fundamental rights and freedoms
Internationally recognized standards of human rights and
fundamental freedoms should be explicitly promoted as part of
a new agreement. Promotion of human rights is often the first
area of focused support by the international community in the
political arena. Efforts to strengthen the rule of law and respect
for human rights place emphasis on the institutions that formu-
late and interpret law and social policy (legislatures and the
courts) as well as on those which implement and enforce them
(government departments, police forces and the military).
A democratic settlement to a deep-rooted conflict will nor-
mally include a mechanism for the protection and guarantee of
fundamental human rights. Depending on the context, this may
involve a very significant degree of change from the preceding
regime. Failure to implement these changes, or continuing cur-
tailment of some rights for some groups, can challenge the ef-
fectiveness and status of the new dispensation, threatening the
very heart of the agreement.
Human rights watchdogs can be established – or sometimes
brought in from outside – to address specific rights abuses. Are
press freedoms being infringed? A media watchdog, indepen-
dent of both government and media business interests, can
assess the situation and report. Are prisoners being abused? An
independent prison authority could carry out an assessment of
grievances and remedies or, if resources preclude that, interna-
tional NGOs such as the Red Cross or Amnesty International
could assist. Official investigatory organs, commissions or tribu-
nals can bring to light the degree of adherence to human rights
360
standards. Training in these issues will also contribute to chal-

lenging the motivation and origins of rights-related abuses.
5.3.7 Usurpation
This term refers to a type of abuse of power. Specifically, it
means that a governing group or individual comes to power on
the basis of the agreed settlement but then begins to abrogate
more power to itself than was identified in the constitutional
basis of the agreement.
Arrangements for the distribution of political power are typi-
cally defined in a constitution. Generally, they will include one
core protection against this kind of abuse: a formal separation of
powers. Usurpation occurs when, subsequent to taking office, a
president or ruling party subverts this delicate balance of power
and claims for itself the right to, say, appoint the judiciary, de-
clare war, suspend the constitution, or extend its permitted period
in office, or begins to draw distributed power back to the centre
by dismantling regional legislatures or cutting finance to such
bodies.
Many examples of such behavior exist, particularly in relation
to presidents who suspend constitutional processes and choose
to rule by decree. Russian President Boris Yeltsin, for example,
responded in 1993 to illegal acts by the Russian Parliament by
suspending the constitutional court, dismantling local govern-
ment structures, and so on, to effectively create what analyst Fa-
reed Zakaria describes with some trepidation as “a Russian su-
per-presidency”. Presidents Fujimori in Peru, Lukaschenko in
Belarus, Menem in Argentina, and many more have – for a vari-
ety of motives, not always completely negative ones – made sim-
ilar usurpations. While not entirely dismantling the democratic
structures of the state, they become, in the phrase, “democratic
dictators”, damaging at least the spirit and content if not the let-
ter of the settlement. In many cases, democratic stability rests on
the opposite process to usurpation: a devolution of power through-
out society – to local governments, regional authorities, auto-
nomous agencies, and so on.
Regular assessment, therefore, needs to be made of the distri-
bution of power in the new administration. Changes need to be
noted and challenged or consented to by all, particularly consti-
tutional changes. By way of illustration, the extension of a presi-
dent’s term of office beyond the limit prescribed in the consti-
tution may be a warning of things to come. A drift of power to-
wards the centre is usually symptomatic of a weakening of the
361
original terms of the negotiated agreement. A constitutional

review process, officially installed and independently managed,
may be one effective way to institutionalize the business of pro-
tecting the ground-rules of the administration. Sometimes,
options are relatively limited: in Cambodia, following Hun Sen’s
“coup” of July 1997, the international community attempted to
deal with the usurpation by isolating the government and push-
ing ahead with election plans, rather than attempting to redress
the usurpation directly.
5.3.8 Corruption and nepotism
The holding of political power permits a wide range of nepo-
tistic or possibly corrupt practices: partial policy decisions in re-
turn for favours, political appointments as rewards to favored in-
dividuals or groups, policy formation aimed at acquiring per-
sonal wealth or influence, and so on.
The outcome of such corrupt practices is two-fold. First, it
produces a government that governs according to its own nar-
rowly defined and partial interest at the expense of other inter-
ests in society. Second, it breeds deep popular cynicism that will
inevitably obstruct the business of good government.
Mechanisms that instil public accountability and transpar-
ency can put the brakes on corrupt practices. After the South Af-
rican elections, for the first time in that country, a code of con-
duct was introduced which set careful limits on behavior relating
to the acceptance of gifts and favours, thus reducing the risk of
corrupting influences. Similar codes of conduct for politicians,
for appointment processes and for lobbying practices can curtail
corruption, as can, in the longer term, the establishment of offi-
cial regulatory mechanisms. In many countries, a parliamentary
register exists where politicians must disclose any personal inter-
ests that may impinge on their ability to make impartial policy
decisions. Such mechanisms do not explicitly prevent corrupt
practices by politicians and public servants, but they establish
boundaries beyond which behavior can be punished. It is, of
course, vital not only that such regulatory processes exist, but
that they are enforced in actionable ways.
The judicial system must guarantee and enforce transparency
through real mechanisms of monitoring compliance and redres-
sing violation of rights. The oversight function of the judiciary
over both the executive and the legislature, and generally of the
entire public administration, are important elements in democ-
ratic consolidation, especially in the fight against corruption. To
362
be able to play this role, the judiciary itself must be fair and im-
partial, and perceived as such. Access to it must not be limited
or curtailed.
5.3.9 Maladministration
While the effects of maladministration may appear similar to
those of corrupt government, its cause is more likely to be inabil-
ity or inexperience, unintentional rather than by design. What-
ever the reason, however, incompetent governing will funda-
mentally undermine the settlement. Maladministration can pro-
duce paralysis in government, and can be swiftly taken advan-
tage of by opponents of the peace process. Maladministration
also makes the practice of corruption much easier due to con-
fusion and lack of controls or regulating mechanisms.
The same political education programmes mentioned in
Chapter 3 as an aid to preparing people for the negotiation
process can be extended to the post-settlement situation. Since
1995, for example, the Khmer Institute of Democracy, a Cambo-
dian NGO, has been training government officials in election
processes. Additionally, interaction with counterparts from other
countries, and with the international community in general, can
bolster the confidence and skills of an incipient regime.
It is essential that the parties to the settlement, as well as the
international community, carry out a practical and realistic
needs assessment of the areas in government administration
which require strengthening. Frequently, a new government
may be reluctant to admit that it has limited expertise in a given
area, and therefore may not ask for assistance. The conse-
quences of this failure to acknowledge a deficiency and request
assistance will ultimately have far greater effects on a govern-
ment than mere embarrassment. Limitations acknowledged and
acted on may be forgiven, but incompetence, delays and
possible cover-ups all serve to undermine the consolidation of a
new regime.
Several mechanisms exist to prevent or redress the conse-
quences of maladministration. The system of the Inspection Géné-
ral de l’Etat in Francophone countries provides an oversight
mechanism within the public administration to address malad-
ministration and corrupt practices. The Ombudperson system,
originally developed in Sweden but now a common mechanism
world-wide, provides an appeal mechanism for private citizens to
redress apparent violation of their rights by the public adminis-
tration.
363
5.3.10 Levels of safety and security

Security and justice systems are basic responsibilities of the
state and are at the core of sovereignty. A predictable and reli-
able legal system facilitates the peaceful resolution of disputes
and favours the emergence of an environment conducive to eco-
nomic investment and activity. Security sector reform is also an
essential dimension of peace building, via human rights training
and respect for the basic principles of humanitarian law, as elab-
orated in international human rights instruments. Successful
reform depends heavily on the existence of a justice system capa-
ble of investigating and punishing abuses and misconduct. Thus
security and judicial systems are intimately linked.
Often, in the immediate post-settlement or transitional phase,
the country may be emerging from a prolonged period in which
violence was widespread and general perceptions of security and
safety were minimal. For a community or society to rebuild its
own self-confidence and develop confidence in its new regime,
stability and security need to be recovered.
Part of the settlement agreement may have referred to disar-
mament and demobilization of opposing armed forces. The
timetable for such processes is particularly important. Failure to
disarm leaves the country with many weapons, which can all too
quickly be turned to other purposes: crime, intimidation, and so
on. Likewise, former armies or militias, if not disarmed and de-
mobilized, may descend into banditry. Both of these develop-
ments can pose immediate threats to a new regime’s ability to
maintain law and order and to develop widespread respect for
the rule of law.
In Haiti, when President Aristide entered office, no police
force existed in any significant form, as the Ton-Ton Macoute
and the police of the previous dictatorship, who had been the
enforcers of law, had fled. The international community worked
with the new government to select around 400 individuals for a
law-and-order course in Toronto, Canada. For the first 18
months of the regime, the Haitian State was policed almost en-
tirely by Canadian police officers, until the new Haitian person-
nel were ready to take control.
While careful monitoring of the timetable for action will alert
one to delays or derailments in the decommissioning process,
processes to deal with such problems also must be established.
The establishment of the rule of law, respect for human and mi-
nority rights, civil security and inclusive democratic institutions
364
and mechanisms help to encourage the successful return and

reintegration of refugees, internally displaced populations and
demobilized former combatants. Retraining and rehabilitation,
downsizing and demobilizing, and legislation can all be consid-
ered effective in dealing with such forces. A disarmament com-
mission can oversee the work, setting principles and procedures
for the handing-over of weapons. Often, given the history of an-
tagonism, only a third party will be trusted by all to fulfil the task
fairly. UN peace-keepers have played such a role in several post-
conflict situations: Mozambique, Angola, El Salvador, and so on.
In these cases, they either accepted the hand-over of weapons
directly from combatants (sometimes with cash or in-kind pay-
ments) or verified their destruction. In Northern Ireland an in-
dependent commission from Finland, Canada and the US exa-
mined the decommissioning problems, and produced a set of
guidelines and principles as a basis for discussion.
On the other hand, the post-war phase may be characterized
by a greatly enlarged and still extant national army of the previous
administration. The potential for a disgruntled military to oust a
democratic regime is well documented around the world.
Civilian control of the military, and of the monopoly on the leg-
itimate use of force, is an essential element. This closely relates
to the legal status of police forces and the responsibility for
maintaining internal security. The privatization of violence, in
the form of organized crime (Russia) and paramilitary groups
(Congo-Brazzaville, Somalia), can be immensely destabilizing.
In many African countries, an unaccountable military is still a
major source of political uncertainty and instability.
5.3.11 Checks and balances
In every political process, and particularly in countries in
transition or emerging from a conflict, there are often genuine
fears and concerns among important constituencies in the soci-
ety. In general, it is these concerns that motivate positions and
negotiation strategies. A party’s fears may relate to a broad con-
cern, such as the survival of a language, or to a fundamental
freedom such as movement or association. These broad con-
cerns will generally be dealt with in the substance of the main
agreement and will reflect the key issues on the table.
There are, however, other smaller issues that may be of a more
technical nature or relate to areas of potential administrative
abuse and corruption. Where possible, these concerns should
be dealt with as part of the negotiation process, and an extensive
365
exercise should be undertaken by all of the parties involved to

try to identify areas where the process could be abused or thwar-
ted in the future. Appropriate mechanisms – “checks and bal-
ances” – need to be put in place to protect the transition pro-
cess. They are usually specific in purpose and directed at a par-
ticular sector. Examples of checks and balances would include:
– Ombudsperson offices to redress violation of citizens’
rights;
– Independent broadcasting authorities to address issues re-
lating to the media;
– Judicial services commissions to address issues relating to
the selection of judges;
– Civilian secretariats to control or alternatively supervise the
transformation of police and defense forces;
– Joint economic policy units to oversee economic policy-making;
– Human rights commissions to address human rights con-
cerns;
– Public protectors to address infringement by security forces;
– Amnesty provisions;
– Land commissions to address issues of allocation and redis-
tribution of land;
– Independent electoral commissions;
– Consensus forums to manage transition processes in key
sectors such as health, education, housing and economic
policy.
Since credibility is crucial to success, the process by which
these mechanisms are instituted is important, as is the selection
of persons who will lead and staff them. If these bodies are seen
as compliant mechanisms for the government, they will not
address the real fears that they were intended to deal with. Any
body intended to act as a “check” on the behavior of govern-
ment or parties must also be invested with the necessary
resources, power and authority to carry out its duties. Regulatory
authorities have to be above suspicion and fully accountable.
“Check and balance” institutions may be permanent bodies,
or they may have a limited life cycle applying only to a specific
phase of the process. In South Africa, there was real concern
that the Nationalist Government would, during the negotiation
process but prior to the first democratic election, make deci-
sions on crucial aspects such as economic policy, monetary loans
366
5.4 International Dimensions
and education that would endure for years. To safeguard against

this, a transitional executive authority was established, as well as
a number of consensus forums to manage critical areas of gov-
ernment until the time that a new government came into being
after the April 1994 election.
There is also a need to have flexibility in the agreement in
order to retain the capacity to address issues as they arise (which
they inevitably will). In South Africa, it was not foreseen at the
time of the national negotiations in 1993 that traditional leaders
in the provinces would become a powerful lobby. As a result of
sustained political and legal pressure, the Council of Traditional
Leaders was established to provide them with political represen-
tation and to establish a vehicle to address their interests. A dis-
tinctive feature of the peace agreements in both South Africa
and Northern Ireland was the proliferation of bargaining insti-
tutions created, which enabled issues to be separated out and
dealt with in a more devolved and consensus-oriented manner
than if all power remained concentrated at the centre.
In this area of checks and balances, Chapter 4 may prove
useful, as it details many of the options and comparative experi-
ences that have been utilized in different countries. While the
fears and concerns may be real and present a substantial chal-
lenge, if there is focused attention devoted to finding a mecha-
nism to address a particular fear, a start will have been made to
alleviate it.

This section examines the international community’s ap-
proach to building sustainable democracy. It does not cover the
various forms of practical on-the-ground assistance that is often
rendered by the international community, but rather the con-
text in which such assistance is deployed. First it examines the
gradual emergence of a democratic entitlement, especially at the re-
gional level: in various locations, regional organizations are in-
creasingly important aid donors and thus setters of aid policies.
Many of them now have overt democracy-related criteria for aid
and development assistance. Then, it examines the interna-
tional dimension of democracy assistance: the rise of overtly political
aid policies and, specifically, of democratic conditionality in
those policies.
5.4.1 The United Nations
The United Nations has been the single most influential de-
mocracy-promoting organization over the last 50 years. Al-
367
5.4 International
Dimensions
though analysis of the role of the United Nations per se is beyond

the scope of this handbook, several dimensions of its changing
role in relation to democracy-promotion and conflict can be
identified. There also exist a number of excelent recent studies
and reports on the subject, such as Connie Peck’s Sustainable
Peace: The Role of the United Nations and Regional Organizations in
Preventing Conflict.
The scope of the United Nations’ democracy-promotion
activities has expanded significantly since the late 1980s, espec-
ially in the fields of preventive diplomacy, peace-keeping and
post-conflict peace building. In the June 1992 An Agenda for
Peace, then UN Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali envisioned
a comprehensive doctrine for promoting, sustaining and develop-
ing peace in the world along a policy continuum from conflict
prevention to conflict resolution. This continuum includes: pre-
ventive diplomacy, peace-making, peace-keeping, and post-con-
flict peace building. The 1997 Agenda for Democratization tries to
set a comprehensive approach to the promotion and consolida-
tion of new or restored democracies.
The international and The UN’s tools for the peaceful settlement of disputes are
regional context contained in article 33 of the UN Charter. In an effort to insti-
tutionalize conflict prevention structures, the UN Secretariat
dramatically affects
was restructured in the early 1990s and three departments were
the internal dynamics created to manage preventive diplomacy efforts: the Depart-
of a democratic peace ment of Political Affairs (DPA), including an “early warning”
process. cell, the Department of Humanitarian Affairs (DHA), and the
Department of Peacekeeping Operations. DPA was given the
primary responsibility regarding conflict prevention and pre-
ventive diplomacy, and an Electoral Assistance Division was
created specifically to assist in the running of transitional elec-
tions. Further reforms initiated in 1997 by Secretary-General
Kofi Annan further streamlined the secretariat, consolidating
the role of DPA as the focal point for dealing with post-conflict
peace building, with DHA activities now handled by an emergency
relief coordinator.
In terms of democracy advocacy, there exists a myriad of dec-
larations, resolutions and conventions (detailed in section 4.6
on “Human Rights Instruments”) around which member states
congregate to reinforce their joint commitment to democracy
and human rights. The universal membership of the United
Nations, however, restricts its pro-active role in this field. Since
1988, the issue of democracy has appeared annually on the
368
agenda of the General Assembly and generated a series of reso-

lutions to promote democratization, and a series of international
conferences on “New and Restored Democracies” have been
held. The United Nations directly facilitated transitions to de-
mocracy in Namibia (1989), Nicaragua (1990), Cambodia
(1993), and El Salvador and Mozambique (1994) by assisting
contending forces to transform themselves into political parties,
and by supervising (and sometimes conducting) free and fair
elections. The UN has also played a substantial mediation role
in many deep-rooted conflicts around the world, such as in Af-
ghanistan.
5.4.2 Democracy assistance and foreign aid
Since the late 1980s, the international community has intro-
duced a normative and political dimension to its development
co-operation policy and introduced new criteria for aid and for-
eign policy, with good governance and democracy as core objectives.
Reform of the state, strengthening of democratic institutions
and the rule of law, respect for human rights and the creation of
an enabling environment for economic and political develop-
ment have become core requirements for external development
aid, thus emphasizing the importance of the political context of
development. International security organizations, which used
to focus on traditional peace-keeping, have broadened their
areas of intervention to address conflict prevention and, partic-
ularly, post-conflict peace building. Development aid policy, too,
has broadened its scope to embrace conflict management and
peace building. Traditional conditionality – setting overt po-
litical conditions for economic assistance – has been progres-
sively modified. These policies play out along three main
themes:
– democracy assistance: the promotion of democracy and de-
mocratization processes in recipient countries as a main
objective of foreign aid;
– a democratic requirement: making aid conditional on a demo-
cratic political system in a recipient country, or on a com-
mitment by the recipient country to democratic develop-
ment;
– democratic conditionality: the reduction, suspension, or
threat of withdrawal of foreign assistance in the event of in-
terruptions to democratic development or reversals of de-
mocratic gains.
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5.4 International
Dimensions
5.4.3 Regional perspectives

Regional frameworks for security dialogue and co-operation
have been steadily evolving in recent decades. There has been
increasing development of a new form of regionalism based on
a shared commitment to democratization and the defense of
democracy. The European Union (EU), the Organization of
American States (OAS) and the Organization of African Unity
(OAU), in particular, have demonstrated a renewed determina-
tion to try to deal with internal conflicts and democratic devel-
opment.
These regional organizations provide a framework, as well as
supporting structures and mechanisms, for strengthening de-
mocratization processes. They generate regional synergies, and
provide member states with a platform to discuss common prob-
lems, craft joint solutions and take collective action. Many now
include a democratic clause in their membership requirements:
member states must abide by certain democratic norms and
principles, whose breach may result in suspension of member-
ship or punitive measures.
Most regional blocs – the EU, the OAS, the OAU, the Organi-
zation for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE), and so
on – have membership criteria which include various forms of
commitment to, and evidence of, domestic democratic practices
(see, for example, the section on Europe below). Some interna-
tional organizations, in particular the United Nations, have a
wealth of pro-democracy declarations, conventions, covenants
and charters around which member states congregate to rein-
force their joint commitment to maintaining human rights and
so forth. One very powerful example is the OAS’s Resolution
1080, which commits its members to communal and immediate
action in the face of “any sudden or irregular interruption of the
democratic political-institutional process or the legitimate exer-
cise of power by the democratically elected government in any
member state”. So membership can be a very effective factor in
underpinning the commitment to democratic structures, and of
course joining the democratic club brings the significant and
practical support of fellow-members. Furthermore, the available
evidence suggests that the more a country engages in regional
and international integration, the less likely it is to become
embroiled in armed conflicts with another state. The following
sections examine the growth of democracy-promotion policies,
institutions and inducements at the regional level.
370
Europe
Europe provides the most sophisticated web of interlinked
and mutually reinforcing institutions and mechanisms for con-
flict prevention, management and resolution via norms of de-
mocracy. The range of such tools available to parties in conflict
has significantly increased in the last decade. European regio-
nal organizations provide incentives for democratic develop-
ment by requiring new members explicitly to adhere to demo-
cratic principles, including respect for human and minority
rights, the rule of law and good governance.
The pro-democratic influence of such membership criteria is
important both before and after a state actually joins the orga-
nization. Becoming a member is a long and complex process
that requires prior agreements establishing a co-operative fra-
mework for strengthening and deepening reform. Once mem-
bership is attained, there is continued convergence towards
common democratic policies in members’ political systems.
European Union (EU). A western European economic orga-
nization, the EU has set stringent economic and political crite-
ria for membership. Since the 1993 Copenhagen Summit, these
include democracy, respect for human rights, supremacy of the
rule of law, and observance of fundamental freedoms. The pos-
sibility of EU membership has strongly influenced the countries
of eastern and central Europe to further consolidate their
democratic gains and sustain momentum for political reform. In
addition, the EU has been supporting democratization process-
es in eastern and central Europe since the early 1990s, providing
“positive measures” of support to democratization.
An interesting case is Turkey, which has had a long-standing
and comprehensive co-operation agreement with the EU, with-
out so far actually meeting the threshold for membership. Arg-
uably, the prospect of membership, and significant and sus-
tained support from the EU, has helped Turkey to maintain the
momentum of its political reform agenda and provided it with a
strong incentive to democratize further.
An EU suspension clause was added in 1997 which provides for
the suspension of some or all membership rights in the event of
a violation of the Copenhagen principles. The principles are
also at the core of EU foreign policy: democracy and democracy
promotion has long been a central plank of its Common Fo-
reign and Security Policy.
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5.4 International
Dimensions
Council of Europe. A trans-European institution mandated to

promote parliamentary democracy, the Council imposes politi-
cal conditionality for membership: a member must be a democ-
racy prior to entrance, or at least demonstrate commitment to-
wards democratization and political reform. To qualify for ad-
mission, a country must meet tough standards in the realm of
human rights, including minority rights, by ratifying the existing
conventions. More importantly, the normative work of the
Council of Europe (in terms of international conventions) as
well as its human rights enforcement mechanisms (the Europe-
an Court and Commission for Human Rights) has had a signifi-
cant influence over member states, both in terms of internatio-
nal legal commitments and domestic law. Today, practically all
the states of eastern and central Europe are full members, while
the remaining countries (e.g., members of the Commonwealth
of Independent States) have guest status and can still benefit
from various co-operation programmes. Indeed, the transition
to democracy in eastern and central Europe after the fall of the
Berlin Wall has brought tremendous challenges to the Council
of Europe: from 16 member states originally, its constituency has
now grown to 40 (as of April 1998). Most of the new members
are transitional, and hence fragile, democracies. In 1997, the
Council established monitoring and verification mechanisms for
assessing a state’s compliance with its membership commit-
ments and obligations.
North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). A trans-Atlantic
military organization, NATO has declared civilian control of the
military a prerequisite for its membership. It refined its struc-
tures and mechanisms for conflict prevention and management,
confidence building and reform support, by establishing the
North Atlantic Co-operation Council (NACC) in 1991 and the
Partnership for Peace in 1994. NATO membership has been a pri-
ority for eastern and central European countries’ foreign policy
since the break-up of the Warsaw Pact. The Madrid Summit in
July 1997, which agreed in principle on the integration of four
eastern and central European countries into NATO, and
defined a framework for closer co-operation, has demonstrated
the significant contribution that regional collective security
institutions can have in the internal reform process.
Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe
(OSCE). A trans-Atlantic security organization, the OSCE has
strengthened its confidence-building, conflict-prevention and
fact-finding mechanisms for investigating threats to stability in
372
Europe. While it has neither the structures nor the military capa-
bilities for peace-enforcement and peace-keeping, it is a forum
for pan-European discussion and co-operation, especially con-
cerning human and minority rights issues, confidence building
and conflict prevention. The OSCE has also facilitated negotia-
tions in deep-rooted conflicts between Azerbaijan, Armenia and
Armenian separatists in Karabakh.
Within the OSCE, the Office for Democratic Institutions and
Human Rights (ODIHR) – originally known as the Office for
Free Elections – is responsible for furthering human rights, de-
mocracy and the rule of law, including electoral assistance, ob-
servation and monitoring. The High Commissioner on National
Minorities also plays a significant role via monitoring and fact-
finding missions. The quiet, behind-the-scenes diplomacy by the
High Commissioner has played a role in defusing tension and
addressing the needs of minorities, particularly in eastern Europe.
Other mechanisms include the European Pact on Stability in
Europe of 1995, aimed at setting mechanisms for the peaceful
resolution of border and minority disputes, and the Convention
and Court on Conciliation and Arbitration (which entered into
force in 1994), which can be a useful tool for minority conflict
prevention (such as in the case of minorities in Hungary and Ro-
mania).
Latin America
Organization of American States (OAS). A pan-American se-
curity organization, the OAS has adopted a proactive stance in
support of democracy. It recognizes that the solidarity of
American states requires that each member be a “representative
democracy” and that it needs to be proactive in its efforts to pre-
serve democracy among its members. The fact that all OAS
members in Latin America have become progressively more de-
mocratic in recent years has been a fundamental factor in its de-
velopment over the last decade.
In 1991, OAS member states met in Santiago, Chile, to endor-
se a “Commitment to Democracy and the Renewal of the Inter-
American System”, which reaffirmed their “firm political com-
mitment to the promotion and protection of human rights and
representative democracy, as indispensable conditions for the
stability, peace, and development of the region”. This was follo-
wed by the adoption of Resolution 1080 in 1993. This enables
the secretary-general of the OAS to “call for the immediate con-
vocation of a meeting in the event of any … sudden or irregular
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5.4 International
Dimensions
interruption of the democratic political and institutional pro-

cess, or of the legitimate exercise of power by the democrati-
cally elected government of any of the Organization’s member
states”.
These mechanisms have been invoked in Haiti in 1991, in Peru
in 1992, in Guatemala in 1993 and in Paraguay in 1996. In Gua-
temala, for example, the OAS condemned the attempted “self-
coup” by President Serrano, which led to the restoration of con-
stitutional government. In Paraguay, the refusal of the army
commander, General Oviedo, to step down led to a constitutio-
nal crisis. Swift reaction by the OAS, however, enabled President
Wasmosy to regain control.
Resolution 1080 is clearly a valuable mechanism for bringing
the regional and international community together for co-ordi-
nated responses to threats to democracy anywhere in the hemi-
sphere. Indeed, Oviedo himself recognized that its arrival may
mean the end of the era of military coups in Latin America. A
recent additional OAS Protocol allows for the suspension of a
member whose democratically elected government is over-
thrown by force.
A Unit for the Promotion of Democracy was established in June
1990 to assist OAS member states in democratic institution buil-
ding, and to encourage dialogue and consensus. It was man-
dated “to respond promptly and effectively to member states
which, in full exercise of their sovereignty, request advice or
assistance to preserve their political institutions and democratic
procedures”.
MERCOSUR. An interesting phenomenon has been the
increasing political assertiveness of regional trading blocs in the
defense of democracy. For instance, the decisive influence of
MERCOSUR in the 1996 crisis in Paraguay deserves mention.
Founded in 1991 by Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay and Uruguay to
foster regional integration and trade, MERCOSUR’s economic
clout makes it influential in non-economic matters as well. In
the run up to the May 1998 presidential elections in Paraguay,
the possibility of preventive action taken by MERCOSUR mem-
bers influenced that country’s internal political dynamics and
helped ensure that the scheduled elections were free, fair and
held on time.
Africa
Organization of African Unity (OAU). Progress has been made
towards enhanced African capacities for conflict prevention and
peace-keeping by the OAU, a pan-African security organization.
374
Southern African Development Community (SADC). Sub-

regional organizations have taken the lead in the promotion of
democracy in the continent. In 1992, SADC endorsed democra-
tic principles and committed its member states to democracy,
respect for human rights and the supremacy of the rule of law.
Economic Commission of West African States (ECOWAS). A
regional economic organization established in 1975, ECOWAS
broadened its mandate in 1993 to include responsibility for pre-
venting regional conflicts, such as in Liberia and Sierra Leone.
Since 1990, it has taken an increasingly assertive role in conflict
prevention and resolution: of instance, in 1997 it was designa-
ted to bring about the restoration of the constitutional govern-
ment in Sierra Leone. ECOWAS subsequently authorized the
intervention of a West African peace-keeping force, ECOMOG,
to restore the democratically elected government to power
in February 1998.
Asia-Pacific
Developments in the Asia-Pacific region have been more limited.
The Asia-Pacific Economic Co-operation (APEC) forum. A re-
gional economic organization established in 1989, and the
South Asian Association for Regional Co-operation, founded in
1985, provide regular platforms to broaden dialogue beyond
economic matters, but have not as yet specifically addressed the
issue of democracy.
The Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN). The
most well established regional organization, ASEAN was origi-
nally created to promote economic co-operation, and has shied
away from more explicit involvement in promoting democracy.
However, ongoing democratization in the Philippines and
Thailand, and the 1998 transition in Indonesia, ASEAN’s largest
and most powerful member, may signal the beginning of a more
assertive role.
Other
Commonwealth of Nations. A 54-member community of
countries most of which were once part of the British Empire,
the Commonwealth provides its members with a useful platform
for dialogue and collective action. It works to advance democra-
cy within its member states through democracy assistance pro-
grammes. It can resort to suspension of membership for flagrant
violations of democracy. In the past, the Commonwealth has
adopted a proactive anti-apartheid stance and forced South Af-
rica to withdraw its membership in 1961. It imposed sanctions
375
5.4 International
Dimensions
on Rhodesia in 1965. In 1991, the Harare Declaration commit-

ted member states to democracy, good governance, human
rights and the rule of law. A Commonwealth Ministerial Action
Group (CMAG) was established in 1995 to address breaches of
the declaration. In 1995, Nigeria’s membership was suspended
by the Commonwealth heads of government, and the CMAG
engaged in discussions to re-establish democracy in Nigeria. In
1997, the Commonwealth withdrew recognition of the regime in
Sierra Leone after the army overthrew the elected government.
The same year, Fiji was re-admitted to the Commonwealth after
passage of a new, non-racial constitution following a 10-year ab-
sence caused by the 1987 coups.
5.4.4 International assistance: democratic governance
and development co-operation
The second dimension of international assistance to democ-
racy and democratization is the increasingly strong political con-
ditionality attached to international development co-operation
policies by major bilateral and multilateral donors.
The 1990s have witnessed the expansion of political aid, espe-
cially democracy assistance and the promotion of participatory
development and good governance. The debate within the in-
ternational development community increasingly emphasizes
the need to assist parties to resolve conflict and achieve sustain-
able peace. Although the policies of the different actors reflect
sometimes diverging political agendas, there is a growing con-
viction that sustainable economic development goes hand-in-
hand with the promotion of democracy. Support for democra-
tic political development is seen as a fundamental value in itself,
a means to achieve inclusive and participatory economic devel-
opment, and a tool for conflict prevention, management and
resolution.
Policy priorities of bilateral donors largely dictate the defini-
tion and channelling of international development assistance,
and have a decisive impact on multilateral donors’ policies and
agendas. Provisions for democracy assistance have been more
explicitly articulated in, and more effectively implemented by,
the bilateral component of foreign aid, directly managed by the
donor country’s agencies and subject to its foreign policy agen-
da. Indeed, bilateral development agencies, which respond to a
domestic constituency and divergent foreign policy agendas,
have been at the forefront of the debate on political condition-
ality and democracy assistance. However, budgetary pressures in
376
donor countries have both reduced and narrowed the scope of

their interventions. Under tight budget scrutiny, international
development assistance has to be effective, efficient and accoun-
table. Simultaneous pressure on the aid budget and an increa-
sing focus on democratization require that foreign aid itself be
transparent, accountable and efficient. Democratic governance,
by strengthening the enabling environment for optimal devel-
opment co-operation, has thus become the focus of most tech-
nical co-operation.
The Development Assistance Committee of the Organization
for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD-DAC) has
identified a range of approaches for working with developing
country partners on participatory development and good gover-
nance, on the basis of a common commitment to broadly based
economic development. Official DAC guidelines spell out the
political dimension of foreign aid, in both positive measures (de-
mocratic conditionality) and negative measures (democratic sanc-
tions). The DAC identifies four dimensions of good governance:
– the rule of law (a predictable legal environment and enfor-
cement regime, with an objective, reliable, and indepen-
dent judiciary);
– public sector reform (based on efficiency, transparency, ac-
countability, responsiveness and accessibility of govern-
ment and state institutions, especially public administra-
tion);
– improving public sector management (enhancing account-
ing, budgeting and civil service reform);
– controlling corruption, improving transparency and ac-
countability of public policies and reducing excessive mili-
tary expenditure.
Although the OECD-DAC draws a distinction between demo-
cracy, human rights and good governance (the latter conceived
in terms of public sector performance as a sound economic ma-
nagement system), these different dimensions are mutually rein-
forcing. Sustainable development, according to the DAC, is fos-
tered by enhancing participation, democratization, good gover-
nance, respect for human rights and prevalence of the rule of law.
Democratic Structural Stability
Aid and development can contribute vitally to conflict pre-
vention and peace building, by promoting the emergence and
progressive consolidation of democratic structural stability. An envi-
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5.4 International
Dimensions
ronment of structural stability, says the OECD-DAC, is one fea-

turing “dynamic and representative social and political structu-
res capable of managing and resolving disputes without resort to
violence. Helping to strengthen the capacity of a society to man-
age tensions and disputes without violence is a vital part of devel-
opment work”. By providing incentives for consensus, stressing
the inclusive and participatory nature of their interventions and
making their financial support conditional on democratic devel-
opment, development agencies can also be a catalyst for the
broader inclusion of social groups in discussion and negotiation
processes.
Democratic Conditionality
Many donors emphasize positive measures to support democ-
ratization and democratic governance, while maintaining some
preparedness to take negative measures – up to and including
suspension of aid. Political conditionality, defined as the reduc-
tion, suspension, or threat of withdrawal of assistance because of
interruptions to democratic development or reversals of democ-
ratic gains, has many dimensions. Increasingly, political condi-
tionality is conceived as a complement to economic condition-
ality, both being mutually reinforcing for the sustainability of
economic reforms and the attainment of sound economic devel-
opment. Evidence suggests that well-institutionalized democra-
cies are more likely to produce efficient and sustainable econo-
mic and social policies, because they provide a stable, inclusive,
consensual and participatory political-institutional framework.
One example of democratic conditionality was the French
Government’s announcement at the France-Africa Summit in
1990 that it would, in the future, tie economic aid to political
development. This contributed to the downfall of President
Kérékou in Benin, and to the subsequent spread of national
conferences for democratic reform in most of Francophone Af-
rica (see Case Study). Democratic transitions occurred in Mali,
Niger and Madagascar and more equivocal political openings in
Chad, Congo (Brazzaville)–since reversed in 1997–, Côte d’Ivoire,
Cameroon and Gabon.
Aid Sanctions
The imposition or threat of sanctions can signify either a
donor’s opposition to a particular political regime (such as in
Haiti, Kenya and Malawi), or a specific response to more nega-
tive political developments (such as in Guatemala, Zambia or
Lesotho). In such circumstances, aid sanctions can induce change.
378
Donors can “tip the balance” by working with internal oppo-

sition movements to induce a political transition (for example
Kenya or Malawi), or demand specific reforms before aid is
resumed (for example in Guatemala or Zambia). Aid sanctions
had a significant impact in Malawi in 1992–1993 where the freez-
ing of a $US 74 million aid package provided a clear signal that
Hastings Banda’s regime could not hold out indefinitely against
both national and international pressure. Aid measures in Haiti
were part of a broader sanctions package aimed at restoring Pre-
sident Aristide. In Thailand (1991–1992), Lesotho (1994), Sierra
Leone (1996) and El Salvador (1990–1992), donors made a less
tangible contribution, using aid or the threat of its withdrawal to
influence political developments.
The power of international aid donors to induce democratic
change or reverse democratic regression through aid condition-
ality is proportional to the dependence of the aid recipients
upon them, and to the unity of the donor community. However,
unco-ordinated or inconsistent conditionality policies may have
disruptive effects and worsen an already fragile situation. Fo-
reign aid can be used and abused by conflicting parties as a re-
source to prolong their conflict.
The “Concentration” of Foreign Aid: Democracy Assistance
Programmes
While political conditionality by donor governments has the
stated intention of exerting pressure to implement political re-
forms, democracy assistance programmes are specifically designed to
support and strengthen democratic development. Despite their
limitations, they may provide an effective stimulus for recipients
to strengthen the underpinnings of peace building. For exam-
ple, Canada has targeted its aid allocations to “favour countries
which demonstrate respect for human rights” and consequently
suspended, reduced or re-targeted aid to China, Haiti, Indone-
sia, Sri Lanka and the then Zaire (now the Democratic Republic
of Congo).
Concentrating aid on a limited number of recipients commit-
ted to democratic reform is increasingly popular among bilat-
eral donors. As budget stringency constrains donors’ overseas
development assistance (ODA) expenditure, most agencies are
focusing it more sharply on countries most in need and
demanding a commitment to sustainable economic develop-
ment and democratization.
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5.4 International
Dimensions
5.4.5 Bilateral development agencies

Within bilateral development agencies, the “group of like-mind-
ed countries” (the Netherlands, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Den-
mark and – at times – Canada) are extremely innovative. They
exert considerable influence on the international development
policy debate, and have been instrumental in mainstreaming de-
mocracy-oriented policies, both bilateral and multilateral, into
aid programmes.
In 1990, the Norwegian Parliament allocated $US 10 million
of its aid budget to the Norwegian Fund for Democracy. In the
same year, Nordic ministers issued the “Molde Communiqué”,
which stressed the importance of democracy in sustaining eco-
nomic development, and pledged active support for human
rights and democratization. Since 1994 democratization and
human rights have also occupied a prominent place in Danish
aid policy. Democratic development was explicitly included in
Swedish aid policy in 1978. The Swedish International Develop-
ment Agency (Sida) includes a Department of Democracy and
Social Development. In 1997, a special Division for Democratic
Governance was created and a first draft of Sida’s Programme for
Peace, Democracy and Human Rights published. Sida also offers
support to political parties in developing countries.
Peace and democracy are similarly core policy priorities for
the USA. The US Agency for International Development
(USAID) launched an historic reorientation of its mission and
mandate with the announcement of the “Democracy Initiative”
in December 1990. This established the promotion of democra-
cy as a central aim with four components: to strengthen democ-
ratic institutions, to integrate democracy into the USAID pro-
gramme, to reward progress in democratization by increasing
country allocations, and to establish rapid-response mechan-
isms. By one estimate, USAID spent some $US 500 million in
1996 on democratic governance programmes. For Africa alone,
this funding increased from $US 5.3 million in 1990 to $US 119
million in 1994.
Other major donors have increasingly followed suit. Canada’s
development aid priorities include increasing respect for hu-
man rights, promoting democracy and better governance, and
strengthening civil society. In 1996, the Canadian Department
of Foreign Affairs and International Trade established a “peace-
building initiative”, including a peace-building fund, demonstra-
ting Canada’s commitment to democratic development and hu-
380
man rights. German criteria for the allocation of development

aid includes respect for human and legal rights, participatory
democracy, the rule of law, the liberalization of economic poli-
cy and the adoption of market-oriented economic systems, and
development orientation of public policies. Japan, now the
world’s largest bilateral donor, proclaimed in its 1992 ODA
Charter that more attention should be given to “the promotion
of democratization, the introduction of a market-oriented econ-
omy and respect for human rights”, explicitly linking economic
development to political reform and the reduction of excessive
military expenditures. There is also an emerging trend towards
the establishment of specific governmental agencies to promote
democracy, such as Canada’s International Center for Human
Rights and Democratic Development or Australia’s Centre for
Democratic Institutions.
The EU, which channels over 17 per cent of its member states’
total ODA, mainly in grant form, places special emphasis on
defending human rights and promoting democracy “to develop
and consolidate democracy and the rule of law, and respect for
human rights and fundamental freedoms”. Incentive financing
and positive measures in support of human rights and democ-
racy in developing countries have totaled 526 million ECU since
1992. The Lomé Convention, which regulates preferential trad-
ing arrangements between the EU and 71 developing countries
in Africa, the Caribbean and the Pacific, was revised in 1995 to
make the privileged relationship conditional upon the recogni-
tion and application of democratic principles, the consolidation
of the rule of law and good governance. In addition, an explicit
“suspension clause” was included to address violations of “essen-
tial elements” of the convention, including democratic prin-
ciples. Democratic governance became an “objective” of EU aid
and a fund for “incentive allocations” was created to support in-
stitutional development, good governance, democratization and
human rights.
Similarly, the United Nations Development Programme
(UNDP) is placing the democratic governance agenda more
centrally in its policies, both at the regional level, through regio-
nal departments responsible for programme implementation,
and at the central strategic policy-planning level with the estab-
lishment of a Management Development and Governance Divi-
sion. As of 1995, one third of UNDP resources are allocated to
democratic governance endeavours ($US 1.3 billion).
381
5.4 International
Dimensions
5.4.6 Multilateral development banks

According to the standard World Bank definition, govern-
ance encompasses (i) the form of political regime; (ii) the pro-
cess by which authority is exercised in the management of a
country’s economic and social resources for development; (iii)
the capacity of governments to design, formulate and implement
policies and discharge functions.
With the exception of the Inter-American Development
Bank, which includes democracy in its approach towards govern-
ance, most development banks make a distinction between gov-
ernance as “sound development management” and democracy
as a “sound political system”. They tend to resist interfering with
or taking into account the form of the political regime of the
recipient countries in their assessment for economic and finan-
cial assistance. Politics and economics are not totally separable,
but each bank defines its own distinction between politics and
economics in its operational framework according to its con-
stituency and governing statutes. This distinction is often artifi-
cial: if economic development is to occur and be sustained, a
sound political framework must exist. The political conditional-
ity of good governance tries to affect policy-making, to promote ef-
fectiveness and efficiency in economic performance and policy.
The thinking behind democratic governance is based on a con-
cern with the sustainability of programmes financed by multilat-
eral and bilateral development institutions, especially the inter-
national financial institutions and regional development banks:
sustainable development requires a predictable and transparent
framework for policy design, and an enabling environment for
citizens’ participation and private initiative. Democracy offers a
combination of institutions and processes for the efficient and
effective conduct of public policy and participatory and inclusive
politics.
The International Monetary Fund
In its balance-of-payments assistance, the International Mone-
tary Fund (IMF) pays attention to the governance context, and
reference to good governance is an increasingly important dim-
ension of IMF policies. Given its membership and mandate, the
IMF position on the political context in the recipient country is
somewhat ambiguous. Nonetheless, the IMF has directly addres-
sed the need for institutional reforms as part of its aid package
to countries such as Indonesia during that country’s financial
and political crisis in 1998.
382
Conditionality is often used to address corruption: “Financial

assistance from the IMF in the context of completion of a review
under a programme or approval of a new IMF arrangement
could be suspended or delayed on account of poor governance”.
Corrective measures would then be a precondition for a resump-
tion of financial assistance. In July 1997, the IMF suspended its
assistance to Kenya, following civil unrest over constitutional
and electoral reform, pending the outcome of elections.
The World Bank
The World Bank increasingly emphasizes the need for good,
open and inclusive governance. Its first public document on gov-
ernance in 1989, in the context of sub-Saharan Africa, stressed
that the source of Africa’s development problems was a “crisis of
governance”: corrupt, coercive, overcentralized and arbitrary
rule could not sustain economic development. In 1993, 57 go-
vernance-related projects were approved. The World Bank’s
1997 World Development Report addresses this issue, and refers to
democracy as a sound governance system. Given the interdepen-
dence of “economic governance” and “political governance”, of
economics and politics, the Bank has increasingly been engaged
in capacity-building and institutional development activities, ad-
dressing corruption, and supporting civil society. Corruption is
the main focus of the World Bank’s governance policy. It has
identified the following elements as essential criteria for good
governance:
– transparency (open policy-making by the legislative arm of
the government);
– accountability (accountability of the executive for its ac-
tions);
– predictability of policy (professional ethos in the bureau-
cracy);
– participation (strong civil society role in public affairs);
– rule of law (control of behavior in all public institutions).
The World Bank’s Articles of Agreement inhibit intervention
in the political arena, but its endorsement of good governance and
its anti-corruption programmes indicate an increasing willing-
ness to address institutional frameworks and national govern-
ance capacities. Recently, the Bank emphasized the need for
open and inclusive governance for sustainable development,
stressing the political dimension of its activities. In July 1997, the
Bank established a Post-Conflict Unit aimed at increasing the
383
5.5 Conclusion
coherence of the Bank’s approach to post-conflict reconstruc-

tion, with a strong emphasis on the rebuilding of institutions,
with the aim of designing and implementing transitional strate-
gies and early reconstruction.
The Inter-American Development Bank
The Inter-American Development Bank (IDB) employs a
broad concept of democratic governability in its lending policies. It
explicitly endorses and actively supports democratic consolida-
tion processes in Latin America. Among the multilateral devel-
opment banks, the IDB is clearly the most politically assertive.
Today, all 26 borrowing members of the IDB have democrati-
cally elected governments. Indeed, both the IDB and the OAS
appear to be pushing the democratic agenda in the region more
comprehensively than, say, the UN or the World Bank. In its
1996 strategic policy planning, the IDB identified four main
areas for attention and support: the executive branch, the leg-
islative branch and democratic institutions, the justice system,
and civil society. As of April 1997, 27 projects had been appro-
ved in these areas, amounting to approximately $US 300 mil-
lion, including support for dispute resolution systems in Nica-
ragua, for an Arbitration and Conciliation Centre in Uruguay,
for the Bolivian National Programme of Governability, and for
strengthening democratic institutions in Paraguay.
Other Regional Development Banks
The Asian Development Bank (ADB) follows World Bank para-
meters on good governance, and makes these criteria an expli-
cit element of its development evaluations and activities. Its pol-
icy embraces “sound development management” including ac-
countability, predictability and transparency.
The European Bank for Reconstruction and Development (EBRD)
has, in its Charter, made economic assistance to eastern and
central Europe conditional on a commitment to “multi-
party democracy, pluralism and market economies”.
5.5 Conclusion
The principles of transparency, accountability and particular-
ly participation and inclusiveness are recurrent themes through-
out this chapter. If properly adhered to, these principles will
serve to protect and insulate a peace settlement from many of
the obstacles and issues that have the potential to derail its
implementation. The developing international consensus on
the importance of the role of democratic institutions and struc-
384
5 . 5 C o n c l u s i o n
tures is reflected in the growing normative emphasis placed on

democracy by international and regional actors, lending further
weight to these key principles.
The implications of “democratic conditionality” in regional
membership and aid policies, and what some commentators
have characterized as an “emerging right to democratic govern-
ment”, need to be considered with caution. Democracy cannot
be imposed from the outside, however well-meaning or well-fun-
ded those outside interests may be. Sometimes, strict condition-
ality can actually undermine prospects for moderate reformers.
We therefore emphasize in this chapter that the focus of struc-
turing a peace settlement and building a sustainable democracy
must place primary responsibility on the parties to the conflict
themselves. The role of the international community is to assist
and support rather than to prescribe and impose. The commit-
ment has to come, first and foremost, from the domestic parties.
The formulation of a unified and consistent approach to de- There appears to be a
mocracy building by the international community is another as- growing recognition
pect that requires attention. There are too many occasions when by the international
international bodies have pursued a narrow self-interest or been
driven by a desire to improve their “market share”, to the
community that
neglect of the overall transition process. This implies greater conflict prevention
consultation and co-operation, both amongst each other and must address the root
between the international community and the domestic parties, causes of disputes and
throughout the process to ensure that the appropriate assistance
manage ongoing
is given and also to ensure that problems are dealt with jointly.
This means that effective evaluation mechanisms need to be sources of conflict in a
built into a settlement in order to detect potential points of constructive and
breakdown and enable a quick and effective response by all structured manner.
those concerned with its implementation.
There does, however, appear to be a growing recognition by
the international community that conflict prevention should
not only be confined to preventive diplomacy or early warning
systems, important as these may be, but must include settle-
ments that address the root causes of the disputes and manage
ongoing sources of conflict in a constructive and structured
manner. The challenge for the international community is to
translate this renewed awareness and commitment into concrete
policy and actions at both an international and domestic level.
The precise form that these new policies and actions will take is
the primary issue that now confronts all organizations and gov-
ernments seriously committed to sustainable peace building.
385
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Conclusion
Consolidating democracy is never easy. It requires skilled

leadership, an active civil society, functioning political institu-
tions, and – most importantly – a significant degree of time. These
are scarce commodities in even the most benevolent transition
to democracy. In a post-conflict scenario, however, the challen-
ges are multiplied many times over. Deep-rooted conflicts impact
negatively on almost every area of political and social relations.
Civil society is often weak or highly partisanized or both; leaders
and local elites are usually the very people who have until re-
cently been engaged in the conflict itself; the economy will have
been severely damaged; and the basic institutions of government
have either ceased to function or face severe crises of legitimacy.
Under such conditions, attempts to reconstruct a sustainable
democracy face huge obstacles. It is not surprising, therefore, that
the record of promoting democracy in such cases includes many
failures and relatively few unambiguous successes.
The consolidation of democratic governance relates both to
the existence of a conducive institutional framework, and the
respect for and compliance with democratic procedures. It is
therefore vital that any assessment of the progress made in
implementing an agreement adopts a holistic view of the agree-
ment and of its implementation. The various phases that this
handbook focuses on, from pre-negotiation to implementation,
should all be regarded as part of one continuous process that re-
quires constant vigilance and evaluation.
What overall lessons do these successes and failures hold for
would-be democracy builders? The first is that more attention
needs to be paid to the process by which one reaches a peace set-
tlement rather than simply concentrating on a scenario’s out-
comes. The distinction between process and outcome is one of
the starkest lessons of post-settlement peace building in the
1990s. In 1998, two long-lasting and seemingly intractable con-
flicts – Northern Ireland and Bougainville – finally reached peace
agreements. These two conflicts have many parallels: both have
been long-running disputes over autonomy that had claimed
several thousand lives; both involve complicated questions of
389
territorial and cultural sovereignty; and both have been
seemingly impervious to resolution, despite numerous previous
attempts at a settlement. These underlying factors did not
change in either case in the lead-up to their respective peace
agreements. The substantive issues concerning questions of
regional autonomy mechanisms had also been debated and
discussed over a number of years: the mechanisms contained in
the 1998 “Good Friday” agreement in Northern Ireland, for
example, had been around for some time as part of earlier
peace proposals. What did change in both cases, however, was a
renewed focus on the process by which negotiations took place.
In Northern Ireland, this meant genuinely inclusive talks in
which all elements – including extremists from both sides – were
brought into the process as equal players, rather than being left
to disrupt proceedings from outside. The presence of a skillful
and committed chair who earned the respect of all sides, in the
shape of former US Senator George Mitchell, and political lead-
ers of the major moderate factions committed to seeing agree-
ment reached, was also crucial. In Bougainville, New Zealand’s
intervention as a respected but impartial third party enabled
talks to be held in a neutral environment that encouraged the
building of mutual trust and commitment. There, the key to the
peace settlement was not what the agreement said but what it
failed to say: key issues concerning independence and future au-
tonomy arrangements for Bougainville were left out of the agree-
ment altogether, to be addressed at a later date. In both the
Northern Ireland and Bougainville cases, then, the process by
which negotiations were held was a key to their success. Peace
talks were structured in such a way as to promote dialogue, trust
and commitment – the keys to building a lasting peace.
Attempts to resolve similar conflicts elsewhere would benefit
from more focused attention on this issue at an early stage in ne-
gotiations, rather than the rushed and often ill-thought through
agreements that characterize so many failed settlements. Of
course, many agreements are rushed precisely because of the ur-
gency of the issues involved: in places like Bosnia, Rwanda and
Burundi, the overriding importance of the agreements was to
stop the killing. If they succeeded in this key aim but failed to
establish sustainable democracy, this can hardly be a source of
blame for the architects of those settlements. But it does illus-
trate that rushed agreements aimed primarily at stopping con-
flict may not be the best base on which to try to build a viable de-
mocratic state.
390
The international community and domestic actors alike need
to see democracy as a long-term process of building trust from
within, rather than a quick-fix solution that can be imposed
from without. The international community’s obsession in the
early 1990s with elections as a form of conflict resolution is per-
haps the most obvious manifestation of this “quick-fix” mentali-
ty. The world is littered with elections, often conducted at the
behest of the international community, which only served to in-
flame and politicize the root causes of conflict. The 1993 elec-
tions in Burundi, for example, served as a catalyst for the devas-
tating ethnic conflict that was to follow by bringing the Tutsi-Hutu
rivalry into sharp relief. Similarly in Rwanda, pressures for multi-
partism and democracy were translated into mobilization of eth-
nic interests and intensified ethnic competition over control of
the state. In certain other countries, internationally sponsored
elections were imposed by the international community as a
form of exit strategy for their involvement. But elections are the
beginning of a democratic process, not the end-point, and any
genuine strategy for the promotion of democracy following a
deep-rooted conflict needs to view elections as only the first step
in a long-term process.
Elsewhere, the failure was not one of the elections per se, but
rather the lack of forethought that went into them. In both Al-
geria in 1991–1992 and Burundi in 1993, inappropriate elec-
toral systems produced a winner-take-all outcome which encour-
aged the “loser” to turn to violence rather than accept the out-
come. In Angola, the fact that the constitution centralized
power in a one-person office – the presidency – meant that it
offered few incentives for a loser to stay in the process. In
Bosnia, the 1996 elections held after the signing of the Dayton
Accord took place in an environment of fear that served to solid-
ify rather than break down ethnic divisions. The choice of elec-
toral system itself exacerbated this problem by replicating the
deep divisions between ethnic groups in the legislature. In
Cambodia, a free and fair electoral process that was technically
faultless elected two main parties, each of whom had expected
to control power alone. A clumsy post-election power-sharing
arrangement that had no constitutional basis was hastily cobbled
together and, unsurprisingly, fell apart within a few years.
With the benefit of hindsight, all of these cases would have be-
nefited from more careful forethought as to exactly what the
elections in question were supposed to achieve, how they would
be likely to impact upon the political environment, and, most
391
importantly, how they could be designed to achieve more sus-
tainable outcomes. This could have included, for example, the
diffusion of powers to a parliament in the Angolan case, elec-
toral system design to encourage inter-ethnic accommodation in
Bosnia and constitutionally mandated power-sharing arrange-
ments in Cambodia. Elsewhere, the devolution of power to pro-
vinces or local areas, autonomy arrangements for particular re-
gions, special recognition of group or indigenous rights, repara-
tion and reconciliation commissions, gender equality mecha-
nisms, peace committees and a host of other devices have been
used to manage deep-rooted conflicts or stop existing ones from
escalating.
The utility of these types of arrangements and many others,
highlights the point that the distance between the success or fail-
ure of democracy is often not that large. Well-designed institu-
tions which address real issues through creative structuring of
incentives and constraints can achieve much; so can carefully
structured peace talks aimed at bringing all interests “inside the
tent”. Conversely, democracy-promotion is often threatened by
the imposition of institutions which work well in western coun-
tries but which aggravate problems in divided societies. Greater
study of the way different democratic institutions work in differ-
ent societies is thus crucial to democracy promotion in the next
decade.
So too is the international community’s continued support
for democracy building as a long-term process rather than a
short-term event. The key to democratic consolidation is time,
and the successive repetition of periodic events such as elec-
tions, so that patterns of behaviour become regularized over the
long term. It is virtually impossible to consolidate democracy
without this iterative factor. This is also, however, the issue that is
most consistently overlooked by domestic democracy builders
and the international community alike.
More important than either institutional engineering or in-
ternational support, however, is the key role of local, indigenous
support for democracy. Democracy as a form of government is
synonymous with questions of domestic sovereignty and domes-
tic jurisdiction. It remains, for the time being at least, a form of
government predominantly associated with states and their sub-
regions, rather than international or regional groupings. This
means that the importance of local actors in making democracy
work is paramount.
392
Amongst local actors, no group is more important than polit-
ical leaders. Virtually ever successful transition to democracy dis-
cussed in this manual depended primarily upon far-sighted,
courageous and creative political leadership. Leaders who are
prepared to make sacrifices, to make deals with their political
foes, to negotiate, to move forward when others are afraid or un-
willing, are essential to building a sustainable democracy. But
leaders alone can only do so much. Without fundamental sup-
port for peace and democracy amongst a population, no
amount of enlightened leadership can succeed. Fortunately,
examination of deep-rooted conflicts around the world suggests
that, in almost all cases, ordinary people, men and women, re-
main fundamentally committed to democracy. They are also in-
evitably the biggest losers when democracy breaks down. Buil-
ding a sustainable peace requires the fundamental harnessing of
ordinary people behind democratic values – values based, above
all, on the people themselves being the ultimate arbiters of their
political leadership and their country’s destiny.
393
Annex I
Contributors
Peter Harris
Harris
South African human rights lawyer. In 1993,

he was a National Peace Accord regional
director, and was Chief Director of the
Monitoring Directorate of the Independent
Electoral Commission for South Africa’s
transitional 1994 elections. He has been an
operations consultant to the UN, and led
the establishment of South Africa’s National
Commission for Conciliation, Mediation
and Arbitration. Formerly Director of
Programmes at International IDEA, he now
heads a consultancy group in
Johannesburg.
Ben Reilly
Reilly
Senior Programme Officer at International

IDEA. An Australian national, he has
previously served as an adviser in the
Department of Prime Minister and Cabinet
in Canberra. He has advised on issues of
constitutional design in a number of
divided societies around the world, including
Bosnia, Fiji, Kyrgyzstan and Indonesia. He
holds a PhD in Political Science from the
Australian National University, and is co-
author of The International IDEA Handbook of
Electoral System Design.
395
Mark Anstey
Anstey
Director of the Industrial Relations Unit,
University of Port Elizabeth, South Africa,
and author of Practical Peacemaking: A Mediator’s
Handbook (Jutta and Co Ltd 1993).
Bloomfield Bennett
Christopher Bennett
Director of International Crisis Group’s Balkans
Project. He is author of Yugoslavia’s Bloody
Collapse (Hurst, London, and New York
University Press, New York, 1995).
David Bloomfield
Born in Belfast, author of Peacemaking Strategies
in Northern Ireland (1997), and
Political Dialogue in Northern Ireland (1998).
He holds an MA in Peace Studies and a
PhD in Conflict Resolution. Now a consultant
trainer and writer, and Research Fellow at
the University of Ulster’s Centre for the Study
of Conflict, he is completing a book on the
1996–1998 political negotiations in Ireland.
K. M. de Silva
de Silva
Executive Director of the International

Centre for Ethnic Studies, Sri Lanka, and
author of A History of Sri Lanka (1981); Regional
Powers and Small State Security: India and
Sri Lanka 1977–1990; and Reaping the
Whirlwind: Ethnic Conflict, Ethnic Politics in Sri
Lanka (1998).
Nomboniso Gasa
Gasa
South African feminist and political activist.

She has served on the South African
Commission for Gender Equality and several
other organizations. She is currently working
on her book on South African women in the
political struggle, Reclaiming our Voices.
396
Yash Ghai
Ghai
Sir YK Pao Professor of Public Law at the

University of Hong Kong. He has taught in
Tanzania, Britain, the US, Sweden, Singapore
and Fiji. He has published extensively on
comparative public law, human rights, ethnic
relations, state-owned companies and the
sociology of law. His most recent book is Hong
Kong’s New Constitutional Order: The Resumption of
Chinese Sovereignty and the Basic Law (1997).
Luc Huyse
Huyse
Professor of Sociology and Sociology of Law at

the University of Leuven Law School
(Belgium). He has written widely on the role of
the judiciary in transitions to democracy. He is
currently studying the trials of the Mengistu
officials in Ethiopia.
Rasma Karklins
Karklins
Professor of Political Science at the University

of Illinois at Chicago. In addition to many
articles, she has published Ethnopolitics and
Transition to Democracy: The Collapse of the USSR
and Latvia (Johns Hopkins, 1994) and Ethnic
Relations in the USSR: The Perspective from Below
(Allen & Unwin, 1986), which was awarded the
1987 Ralph J. Bunche award from the
American Political Science Association.
Lund
Michael Lund
Senior Associate at the Center for Strategic and
International Studies and Creative Associates
International, Inc., both in Washington, DC.
He is author of Preventing Violent Conflicts: A
Strategy for Preventive Diplomacy (US Institute of
Peace, 1996).
397
Charles Nupen
Nupen
An independent consultant, and formerly
the Director of the Commission for
Conciliation, Arbitration and Mediation in
South Africa.
David M. Olson
Olson
Professor of Political Science and Director

of the Parliamentary Documents Center
for Central Europe at the University of
North Carolina at Greensboro, USA. Author
of Democratic Legislative Institutions:
A Comparative View (1994), he is a specialist in
comparative legislative organization and
functioning.
Anthony J. Regan
Regan
Australian lawyer who has advised on

constitutional issues in Papua New Guinea
and Uganda. He is currently a Senior Fellow
in the Department of Political and Social
Change, Research School of Pacific and Asian
Studies, Australian National University,
Canberra.
Reynolds
Andrew Reynolds
Assistant professor in the Department of
Government and International Studies at the
University of Notre Dame, USA. A British
national, he is also a Fellow of the Hellen
Kellogg Institute for International Studies
and the Joan B. Kroc Institute for International
Peace Studies. Reynolds is the author or editor
of five books dealing with the politics of
elections; his latest being Electoral Systems and
Democratization in Southern Africa (Oxford
University Press).
398
Carlos Santiso
Santiso
Senior Programme Officer at International

IDEA focusing on democracy assistance and
good governance. He graduated from the
Institut d’Etudes Politiques of Paris, France
(1993) and Columbia University, New York,
United States (1995). Before joining
International IDEA, Mr Santiso held different
positions within the Department of Political Af-
fairs of the United Nations, at the Delegation of
the Commission of the European Union to the
United Nations and at the Cabinet of the
French Prime Minister.
Timothy D. Sisk
Sisk
American political scientist and public policy

practitioner he teaches international conflict
resolution at the Graduate School of
International Studies of the University of
Denver in Colorado, and is Senior Associate of
the Fund for Peace in Washington, DC. He has
authored books and articles on the United
Nations, international intervention in ethnic
conflicts, democracy in developing countries,
and elections and electoral systems.
399
Annex II
About International IDEA
International IDEA was founded by 14 states in February 1995,

and started practical work in mid-1996. Today the Institute has
22 members, 17 governments: Australia, Barbados, Belgium,
Botswana, Canada, Chile, Costa Rica, Denmark, Finland, India,
Namibia, The Netherlands, Norway, Portugal, South Africa,
Spain, Sweden; and five international non-governmental
organizations: the Inter-American Institute of Human Rights
(IIHR), the International Federation of Journalists (IFJ), the
International Press Institute (IPI), Parliamentarians for Global
Action (PGA) and Transparency International (TI). It also has
co-operative agreements with the International Commission of
Jurists (ICJ), the Inter-Parliamentary Union (IPU) and the
United Nations Development Programme (UNDP).
Switzerland also contributes to the work of the Institute.
International IDEA’s statutes allow for new members.
The Board of Directors

Sir Shridath Ramphal, Chairman
Former Secretary-General of the Commonwealth and
Co-Chairman of the Commission on Global Governance.
Ambassador Thorvald Stoltenberg, Vice-Chairman
Ambassador of Norway to Denmark, former Foreign Minister
and Minister of Defence of Norway, and UN Special
Representative in the former Yugoslavia.
Hon. Henry de Boulay Forde
Lawyer and former Foreign Minister and Attorney General of
Barbados.
Dr Adama Dieng
Secretary-General of the International Commission of Jurists.
Dr Frene Ginwala
Speaker of the National Assembly, South Africa.
Prof. Colin Hughes
Professor of Political Science, University of Queensland and
former Electoral Commissioner of Australia.
401
Ms Mónica Jiménez de Barros
Executive Director of PARTICIPA and member of the Truth
and Reconciliation Commission, Chile.
Mr Manmohan Malhoutra
Former Assistant Secretary-General of the Commonwealth and
adviser to the former Prime Minister of India, Mrs Indira
Gandhi.
Lord Steel of Aikwood
Former British MP, former leader of the British Liberal Party,
founding member of the Liberal Democratic Party, and former
President of Liberal International.
Ms Aung San Suu Kyi
General Secretary of the National League for Democracy in
Burma and Nobel Peace Prize Laureate.
Ms Maureen O’Neil
President of the Canadian International Development
Research Centre.
Dr Erling Heymann Olsen
Former Speaker of the Danish Parliament (Folketing) and
Professor of Economics at the University of Roskilde.
The Institute’s work is not the reflection of any specific

national interest, but is based on the statutes on which the
members have agreed.
Objectives of the Institute:

– To promote and advance sustainable democracy world-wide;
– To broaden the understanding and promote the
implementation and dissemination of the norms, rules and
guidelines that apply to multi-party pluralism and
democratic processes;
– To strengthen and support national capacity to develop the
full range of democratic instruments;
– To provide a meeting-place for exchanges between all those
involved in electoral processes in the context of democratic
institution-building;
– To increase knowledge and enhance learning about
democratic electoral processes;
402
– To promote transparency and accountability,
professionalism and efficiency in the electoral process in the
context of democratic development.
International IDEA has the following advantageous
characteristics which assist it in undertaking such tasks:
– It is global in ownership and scope;
– It is expressly devoted to advancing democracy as its main task;
– It brings together in its governing body, on an equal
footing, governments and professional international
organizations involved in the process of furthering
democracy; and
– It regards democracy as an evolving process and is able to
take on long-term projects.
Decisions about what work International IDEA undertakes is
guided, in part, by the uniqueness of its members, which in
turn reflect the diverse partners that are found in national
democracies. The governments that founded International
IDEA believed that the time had come for the creation of a
dynamic institute that could creatively and practically assist in
sustaining and developing a democratic process in a large
number of countries.
Publications
Beyond Elections ‘96: A Two-Year Window of Opportunity for
Democracy – Proposals for the Transition towards Peace and
Democracy in Bosnia and Herzegovina
Evaluating Election Observation Missions: Lessons Learned
from the Russian Elections of 1996
International Election Observation: Lessons Learned
(A round-table jointly organized by the United Nations Electoral
Assistance Division and International IDEA,
10–12 October, 1995)
Evaluación del Impacto de la Asistencia Externa en el Proceso
Electoral Nicaragüense
ISBN: 91-89098-18-8 (1998)
Report of the “Democracy Forum” in Stockholm, 12–14 June,
1996
Report of the 1997 International IDEA, Democracy Forum
403
Report of the Roundtable on National Capacity-Building for
Democracy (12–14 February, 1996)
Voter Turnout from 1945 to 1997: A Global Report on Political
Participation (A comprehensive world-wide compilation of voter
turnout statistics since 1945.)
ISBN: 91-89098-04-8 (1997)
Code of Conduct Series (ISSN: 1402-6767)
Code of Conduct for the Ethical and Professional Discharge of
Election Observation Activities (English, French, Spanish)
English ISBN: 91-89098-10-2 (1997)
French ISBN: 91-89098-14-5 (1998)
Spanish ISBN: 91-89098-16-1 (1998)
Code of Conduct for the Ethical and Professional Discharge of
Election Administration Activities (English, French, Spanish)
English ISBN: 91-89098-11-0 (1997)
French ISBN: 91-89098-15-3 (1998)
Spanish ISBN: 91-89098-17-X (1998)
Capacity-Building Series (ISSN: 1402-6279)
1. Democracy in Romania: An Assessment Mission Report
ISBN: 91-89098-03-X (1997)
2. Consolidating Democracy in Nepal: An Assessment Mission
Report
ISBN: 91-89098-02-1 (1997)
3. La Démocratie au Burkina Faso, Executive
Summary/Rapport de Synthése
ISBN: 91-89098-08-0 (1997)
4. La Démocratie au Burkina Faso, Rapport de la Mission
d’Analyse, La Cadence du Développement Démocratique au
Burkina Faso
ISBN: 91-89098-07-2 (1998)
5. Democracy in Burkina Faso, Assessment Mission Report
The Cadence of Democratic Development in Burkina Faso
ISBN: 91-89098-24-2 (1998)
6. Democracia en Guatemala, La misión de un pueblo entero
ISBN: 91-89098-23-4 (1998)
Handbook Series (ISSN: 1402-6759)
1. The International IDEA Handbook of Electoral System
Design (An easy-to-use guide describing what factors to consider when
modifying or designing an electoral system.)
ISBN: 91-89098-00-5 (1997)
404
2. Women in Parliament: Beyond Numbers
(A handbook examining the political impact women have made
through parliaments.)
ISBN: 91-89098-19-6 (1998)
The International IDEA Technical Paper Series for Election
Administrators (ISSN: 1403-3275)
The Internet and the Electoral Process
ISBN: 91-89098-21-8 (1998)
Publications about International IDEA

Newsletter (three times a year)
International IDEA’s Statutes
International IDEA’s Declaration
Work in Progress, January 1998
Information Brochure
Information Leaflet
For more information about International IDEA’s publications, the languages

in which they are available and cost, please contact the International IDEA
Information Services. Many of International IDEA’s publications are on our
Website: www.idea.int
Address: Strömsborg, S-103 34 Stockholm, Sweden
Phone: +46-8-698 37 00 Fax: +46-8-20 24 22
E-mail: [email protected]
405
Index
A
ADB (Asian Development Bank) 384
Afghanistan 10, 14, 369
Algeria 10, 14, 72, 391
Angola 51, 74, 77, 109, 112, 140, 391, 392
– Bicesse Accords 16, 63, 110, 346
– 1992 elections in 16
APEC (Asia-Pacific Economic Co-operation forum) 375
Argentina 221, 276, 316, 351, 361, 374
ASEAN (Association of Southeast Asian Nations) 375
Australia 32, 137, 157, 171, 173, 174, 176, 181, 194, 198, 210, 215, 221, 227,
311, 314, 315, 320, 325–327, 337, 381
autonomy 11, 34, 97, 140, 141, 145, 196, 219, 248, 389, 390
see Section 4.2, “The Structure of the State: Federalism and Autonomy”,
pp. 155–168
B
Bangladesh 10, 14, 315
Belgium 32, 162, 196, 248, 277
Benin 254, 257, 258, 261, 265–267, 268, 269, 270, 272, 378
bicameralism (see legislatures)
bilateral development agencies 376, 380–381, 382
Bosnia 9, 12, 31, 87, 105, 139, 140, 143, 146, 197, 293, 355, 390, 391, 392
see Bosnia-Herzegovina Case Study, pp. 147–154
– Brœko Arbitral Tribunal 108, 112
– Dayton, Ohio peace accords 26, 89, 90, 108, 110, 112, 140, 144, 149, 151,
152, 154, 165, 197, 391
Botswana 182
Bulgaria 246, 315
Burkina Faso 254
Burma 10, 14
Burundi 20, 37, 142, 143, 390, 391
C
Cambodia 10, 20, 140, 165, 355, 358, 362, 363, 369, 391, 392
Cameroon 254, 271, 378
Canada 32, 34,137, 156, 157, 167, 181, 194, 220, 221, 227, 235, 311, 315, 321,
407
322, 323, 337, 364, 365, 379, 380, 381
– Quebec 34, 46, 156, 166, 167, 235, 247, 248
Central African Republic 254, 271
Chad 254, 257, 287, 378
checks and balances 180, 182, 186, 188, 189, 316, 349, 350, 351, 365–367
Chile 135, 185, 221, 274, 283, 287, 316, 373
China 159, 161, 379
– Hong Kong autonomy and 156, 159
Colombia 10, 186, 200, 303, 351
Commonwealth of Nations 208, 235, 315, 372, 375, 376
Comoros 254
conditionality 165, 367, 369, 372, 376, 377, 378, 379, 382, 383, 385
Congo (Brazzaville) 254, 257, 258, 261, 267–268, 270, 365, 378
consociational democracy 162, 196, 197, 203
corruption 346, 350, 358, 362–363, 365, 377, 381, 383
Costa Rica 186, 315
Côte d’Ivoire 254, 378
Council of Europe 241, 372
Cyprus 31, 34, 141, 142, 162, 182
D
de Klerk, F.W. 38, 52, 55, 56, 63, 102
deadlock 55, 57, 58, 61, 62, 65, 66, 68, 88, 99–104, 105, 182, 186, 189, 231
decommissioning of weapons 74, 128, 129, 131, 354, 355, 364, 365
deep-rooted conflict
– analysis of See Chapter 2, “Analysing Deep-Rooted Conflict”, pp. 29–48
– changing nature of See Chapter 1, “The Changing Nature of Conflict
and Conflict Management”, pp. 7–28
– characteristics of 9–13, 14, 24, 33–37, 72
– definition of 9, 14, 21
– management versus resolution 13–24, 31, 34, 38, 39, 108
democracy
– assistance 367–385
– conflict management and 17–27, 135–136
– definition of 18–19, 136–137, 392
– importance of democratic institutions 13, 16–20, 36, 135–137
Democratic Republic of Congo (formerly Zaire) 18, 254, 257, 258, 269–270,
271, 296, 379
Denmark 156, 380
E
EBRD (European Bank for Reconstruction and Development) 384
ECOWAS (Economic Community of West African States) 375
El Salvador 74, 274, 283, 285, 286, 288, 353, 365, 369, 379
408
electoral administration See Section 4.11, “Building an Electoral
Administration”, pp. 308–319
electoral systems 137, 141, 181, 187, 188, 207, 208, 209, 210, 222, 347, 391, 392
See Section 4.4, “Electoral Systems for Divided Societies”, pp. 191–204
–AV (alternative vote) 192, 193, 194, 196, 197, 202, 203, 204, 209
–best-loser system 201
–communal rolls 192, 199, 200, 203, 209
–List PR (proportional representation) 192, 193, 195, 196–197, 198, 201,
202, 203, 204, 209
– party block vote 194, 200, 201, 203
– reserved seats 200, 204
– STV (single transferable vote) 192, 193, 196, 198–199, 202, 203, 204
– vote pooling 145, 204, 209
escalation 37–38, 46–47, 142
Estonia 198, 199, 203, 247
Ethiopia 72, 84, 161, 165, 254, 275, 279, 292
EU (European Union) 12, 57, 105, 142, 153, 158, 370, 371, 381
F
federalism 137, 140, 141, 144, 145
See Section 4.2, “The Structure of the State: Federalism and Autonomy”, pp.
155–168
– advantages of 161–163
– asymmetrical federalism 34, 156
– resistance to 163–164
(see also autonomy)
Fiji 31, 35, 141, 161, 162, 176, 181, 198, 199, 376
See Fiji Case Study, pp. 205–211
– Constitution Review Commission 207, 208, 210
Finland 100, 365, 380
– A° land Islands 156, 158
– semi-presidential system 186, 188
foreign aid 249, 369, 376, 377, 379
France 72, 182, 186, 194, 245, 277, 311, 323, 378
G
Gabon 254, 258, 271, 378
gender equality mechanisms 25, 392
See Section 4.12, “National Machinery for Gender Equality”, pp. 320–334;
and The Commission for Gender Equality in South Africa Case Study,
pp. 335–342
– CEDAW (Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination
Against Women) 239, 323, 327, 334
– Commission for Gender Equality 57, 323, 333, 335–342
409
– constitutional mechanisms 321–322, 330
– gender desks/focal points 323, 326–327, 332
– ministries for women's affairs 323–324, 331
– Ministry for Gender and Community Development, Uganda 324–325
– Office of the Status of Women 323, 325–326, 332
Georgia 12, 36, 159
Ghana 163, 214, 315
governance 16, 20, 31, 43, 136, 180, 184, 258, 259, 306, 347, 351, 359, 369, 371,
376–378, 380, 381, 382, 383, 384, 389
grand coalitions 140, 144, 181, 182, 196, 201, 210
Guatemala 10, 352, 358, 374, 378, 379
See Guatemala Case Study, pp. 299–307
Guinea 254
Guinea-Bissau 254
H
Haiti 348, 364, 374, 378, 379
human rights instruments 160 See Section 4.6, “Human Rights Instruments”, pp.
234–242
– minority rights 140, 143, 160, 236–237, 240–242, 364, 371, 372, 373
– religious and ethnic persecution 236–237
– women’s rights 239–240, 321
Hungary 195, 221, 277, 315, 373
I
IDB (Inter-American Development Bank) 382, 384
IMF (International Monetary Fund) 151, 382–383
India 31, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 65, 77, 194, 252, 314, 315, 326
– federalism in 34, 137, 156, 158, 160, 162, 163, 200
– Kashmir question 35, 156, 163
– Sri Lanka and See Sri Lanka Case Study, pp. 225–233
Indonesia 10, 14, 142, 159, 164, 197, 293, 375, 379, 382
International Criminal Court 291, 294
international democracy assistance (see democracy, assistance)
Iraq 10, 14, 47, 77, 110
Israel 10, 14, 63, 68, 83, 84, 85, 89, 107, 112, 188, 233, 346, 360
K
Kenya 104, 158, 159, 163, 187, 254, 272, 296, 378, 379, 383
L
language policy 227, 228, 237, 239, 240, 242
See Section 4.7, “Language Policy for Multi-Ethnic States”, pp. 243–251
– assimilation and 243, 245–246
410
– language boards 145, 247–248, 249
– pluralism and 243, 246, 247, 248
Latvia 247, 249, 250
leadership 38, 58, 217–218, 389, 393
Lebanon 31, 84, 140, 142, 200, 203, 233
– Taif Accord 142
legislatures 179, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186, 188, 189, 191, 192, 198, 201, 203,
327, 337, 347, 360, 361, 362, 391
See Section 4.5, “Legislatures for Post-Conflict Societies”, pp. 212–224
Lesotho 379
M
Malawi 315, 378, 379
Malaysia 31, 33, 34, 35, 155, 156, 164, 210, 249
Mali 254, 257, 258, 268, 270, 272, 378
Mandela, Nelson 38, 52, 53, 55, 56, 69, 71, 74, 283
Mauritius 32, 194, 201, 203, 210, 315
mediation 23, 54, 65, 105, 110, 113, 161, 166, 233, 242, 360, 369
– power 109–110, 111, 112
– pure 108–109, 110, 111, 112
(see also shuttle mediation)
MERCOSUR (Southern Atlantic Common Market) 374
Mexico 185, 195, 222, 303, 316
Meyer, Roelf 64, 100
minority rights (see human rights instruments, minority rights)
Mitchell, George 128, 129, 130, 390
monitoring 57, 151, 176, 177, 260, 285, 286, 312, 313, 316, 323, 325, 326, 327,
337, 338, 341, 349, 350, 353–355, 358, 359, 360, 362, 364, 372, 373
Morocco 35
– Western Sahara question 35
Mozambique 63, 77, 84, 89, 315, 354, 357, 365, 369
multilateral development banks 382–384
N
Namibia 315, 321, 322, 323, 369
national conferences See Section 4.8, “National Conferences”, pp. 252–262; and
National Conferences in Francophone Africa Case Study, pp. 263–272
NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization) 151, 152, 291, 372
negotiation See Chapter 3, “Negotiation Processes”, pp. 59–120
Netherlands 196, 203, 380
New Zealand 175, 176, 195, 199, 200, 210, 227
Nicaragua 218, 315, 357, 369, 384
Niger 200, 254, 257, 258, 271, 378
Nigeria 34, 106, 112, 156, 162, 221, 222, 254, 376
411
Northern Ireland 10, 11, 12, 14, 26, 34, 62, 74, 81, 84, 88, 89, 91, 92, 100, 142,
198, 199, 203, 360, 365, 367, 389, 390
See Northern Ireland Case Study, pp. 121–132
Norway 67, 100, 107, 380
O
OAS (Organization of American States) 108, 370, 373, 374, 384
OAU (Organization of African Unity) 370, 374
OECD-DAC (Development Assistance Committee of the Organization for
Economic Co-operation and Development) 377, 378
OSCE (Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe) 105, 151, 160,
370, 372, 373
Oslo agreement 83, 85, 346, 360
P
Pakistan 35, 200, 252, 313
Palestinian Authority 83, 89, 107, 112, 160, 200, 360
Papua New Guinea 158, 159, 161, 162, 165, 182, 198, 203, 219, 252
See Bougainville Case Study, pp. 169–178
– Bougainville 159, 166, 389, 390 See Bougainville Case Study, pp. 169–178
parliamentarism 179, 180, 181, 183, 186, 188
parliamentary systems (see legislatures)
peace-keeping 15, 31, 368, 369, 373, 374, 375
Philippines 61, 135, 161, 287, 315, 375
Portugal 75, 186
power-sharing democracy 81, 126, 128
See Section 4.1, “Power-Sharing Democracy: An Overview”, pp. 139–146
– group approach (see also consociational democracy) 140–141, 144, 145, 196
– integrative approach 140–141, 144, 145, 196
pre-negotiation (see also negotiation) 24, 57, 66–69, 72, 75, 76, 81, 85, 87, 88,
100, 102, 106, 356
presidential systems 16, 135, 219
See Section 4.3, “Executive Type: Presidential versus Parliamentarism”, pp.
179–190
proximity talks 79, 80, 101–102, 103
R
Ramaphosa, Cyril 64, 91, 92, 100
referendums 17, 55, 92, 93, 102, 103, 118, 130, 131, 163, 165, 166, 176, 260,
266, 267, 268
refugees 11, 12, 14, 15, 153, 302, 303, 365
Russia 10, 12, 14, 33, 35, 36, 246, 247, 248, 249, 250, 315, 351, 361, 365
Rwanda 12, 142, 143, 237, 289, 290, 291, 292, 293, 294, 346, 355, 390, 391
412
S
SADC (Southern African Development Community) 375
Sant’Egidio Community 63, 89
Savimbi, Jonas 16, 345, 355
semi-presidential systems 179, 180, 185, 186–187, 188, 189, 272
Senegal 254
shuttle mediation 80, 82, 99, 101, 103, 116
Sierra Leone 10, 140, 375, 376, 379
Slovenia 200, 221, 315
South Africa 26, 34, 38, 62, 63, 64, 68, 73, 77, 81, 88, 91, 100, 102, 104, 135,
140, 143, 144, 156, 163, 181, 182, 188, 196, 197, 202, 203, 214, 215, 222,
235, 254, 257, 258, 271, 272, 274, 275, 279, 283, 284, 287, 312, 314, 321,
322, 323, 325, 326, 327, 328, 347, 353, 362, 366, 367, 375
See South Africa Case Study, pp. 49–58
– CODESA (Conference for a Democratic South Africa) 53, 55, 81, 271
– Commission for Gender Equality See The Commission for Gender Equality
in South Africa Case Study, pp. 335–342
Spain 12, 34, 71, 156, 159, 160, 161, 165, 166, 274, 315
– Basque question 12, 34, 71, 72, 159, 166
Sri Lanka 10, 12, 14, 31, 33, 34, 65, 140, 142, 155, 159, 160, 161, 163, 164, 186,
187, 198, 252, 315, 379
See Sri Lanka Case Study, pp. 225–233
Sudan 18, 62, 75, 76, 140, 159, 163
Sweden 219, 326, 363, 380
Switzerland 34, 156, 179, 196, 203, 247
– South Tyrol 158, 245
T
Tajikistan 140
Tanzania 292
– Zanzibar 156, 157, 166
Thailand 315, 375, 379
third-party assistance (see also mediation) 104–113
Togo 254, 257, 258, 269, 270, 271, 272
transitional justice 136, 293, 294
See Section 4.9, “Transitional Justice”, 273–280; and Section 4.10, “Reckoning
for Past Wrongs: Truth Commissions and War Crimes Tribunals”, pp.
281–298
(see also truth commissions, war crimes tribunals)
Trinidad and Tobago 32, 182
truth commissions 273, 274, 303, 304, 306
See Section 4.10, “Reckoning for Past Wrongs: Truth Commissions and War
Crimes Tribunals”, pp. 281–298
413
U
Uganda 159, 163, 288, 324–325, 327, 337
UNDP (United Nations Development Programme) 249, 268, 381
United Kingdom (see also Northern Ireland) 11, 12, 104, 124, 126, 127, 129, 181,
194, 213, 221
United Nations 47, 57, 74, 105, 110, 141, 149, 152, 160, 210, 227, 235, 238, 240,
274, 286, 289, 291, 292, 293, 294, 303, 323, 335, 353, 354, 355, 365,
367–369, 370, 384
United States 26, 32, 47, 82, 83, 84, 88, 89, 90, 104, 105, 108, 110, 112, 125,
128, 152, 159, 184, 186, 210, 213, 218, 222, 245, 301, 355, 380, 390
Uruguay 273, 278, 316, 374, 384
USAID (US Agency for International Development) 380
V
Venezuela 186, 195, 303, 351
W
war crimes tribunals 136, 237, 286
See Section 4.10, “Reckoning for Past Wrongs: Truth Commissions and War
Crimes Tribunals”, pp. 281–298
women's participation (see also gender equality mechanisms) 24–25
World Bank 151, 266, 267, 382, 383, 384
Y
Yugoslavia19, 31, 36, 139, 160, 164, 237, 274, 275, 289, 290, 291, 294
– Kosovo 139, 154
Z
Zaire (see Democratic Republic of Congo)
Zimbabwe 77, 283, 346, 358
414

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Democracy and Deep-Rooted

Conflict: Options for Negotiators

Most of today’s violent conflicts are not the wars between

1. THE CHANGING NATURE OF CONFLICT AND CONFLICT

2. ANALYSING DEEP-ROOTED CONFLICT .................................................... 29

2.4.2 End of the Cold War .......................................................................................... 36

3. NEGOTIATION PROCESSES .............................................................................. 59

4. DEMOCRATIC LEVERS FOR CONFLICT MANAGEMENT ................ 133

4.3.4 Conclusion ........................................................................................................ 187

5. SUSTAINING THE DEMOCRATIC SETTLEMENT ................................ 343

5.2 Basic Principles .......................................................................................................... 348

CONCLUSION .................................................................................................................... 389

Case Study South Africa ...................................................................................................... 49

Factsheet 1 The New State of Conflict: Some Facts ............................................ 14–15

The Changing Nature of Conflict

1.1 Characteristics of deep-rooted conflict

Factsheet 1 The New State of Conflict: Some Facts

The Changing Nature of Conflict

1.1 Characteristics of Deep-Rooted Conflict

I n recent years a new type of conflict has come increasingly

Increasingly this kind of conflict, rooted in ideas of human

1.1 Characteristics of Deep-Rooted

sustained violence for periods of years or decades. The scale of

self-expression, since the UK has apparently satisfied these

1.2 New Tools for Conflict

usually be operating in general support of one side’s agenda,

Deep-Rooted Conflict: Conflict, originating largely within

Characteristics: complex, persistent, and intractable; much less

FACTSHEET 1 [P. 14]

Rising Rate of Civilian Casualties Cost of United Nations

Global Refugee Population 1978–1997 Internally

More than 17 Million IDPs

More than 19 Million IDPs

More than 20 Million IDPs

More than 26 Million IDPs

More than 25 Million IDPs

More than 24 Million IDPs

More than 23 Million IDPs

More than 20 Million IDPs

1.3 The Importance of Democratic Institutions

1.4 Democracy and Conflict

at the time this publication goes to press, August 1998, it may

in which disputes are processed, but not definitively resolved. It

1.4 Democracy and Conflict

practical one. For a system of government to be considered de-

or that democratic governance will itself lead to peaceful out-

1.5 Addressing the Real Causes of Conflict

1.5 Addressing the Real Causes

lectively. Even without time-pressures and political tensions, it is

1.6 Process and Outcome

1.6 Process and Outcome

tutions offer practical components for a successful outcome,

process at the expense of outcome and often lack the necessary

1.8 Short- and Long-Term Planning

macro-level – through, for example, consideration of issues of

are reached in a fast-slow mode: pressure for results encourages

1.8 Short- and Long-Term Planning

the legitimacy of the outcome was far stronger than a more

REFERENCES AND FURTHER READING