Language: English

Dramatic upheaval in the Middle Eastern landscape in recent years has given the United States and its allies renewed appreciation for how weak states affect international security and other foreign policy goals. It has become obvious that the wars in Syria, Iraq, and Libya have threatened Europe’s security. Likewise, the waves of refugees washing up on Europe’s shores have damaged the continent’s political coherence and deranged the domestic politics of many of its states. Meanwhile, weak cohesion and governance made Ukraine vulnerable to Russian revanchism, and they also made a slew of African states vulnerable to terrorism, armed conflict, and state collapse. These dangers are likely to grow as technology empowers non-state actors to challenge not only the postwar liberal international order but the underlying Westphalian order as well. As the ability of small groups to undermine political order expands, the stresses on weak governments will increase.

To be sure, in some cases the risks posed by weak states have been overstated—most notably the threat posed by Iraq in 2003. But such mistakes do not invalidate the general problem set, which consists not only of crises fixed to a particular time and place, but also of the second- and third-order effects that an initial crisis generates over time. The proper way to think about weak state risk, therefore, is in terms of a risk cascade.

The knock-on effects from initial crises are notoriously hard to predict, which means that policymakers rarely have a firm grasp on how to respond to the initial crisis. For example, the civil war in Syria originally looked to many like an isolated, containable problem that posed few risks to the West. But then it became an incubator of terrorist groups such as the Islamic State and Jabhat al-Nusra, which helped to destabilize Iraq again, followed more recently by Turkey as well. The conflict’s accentuation of sectarian divisions throughout the Middle East and beyond has helped to focus Iranian-Saudi antagonism in a dangerous way, turning what was a local fight in Yemen into a regional one. That antagonism now also threatens to inflame other states in the region, such as Lebanon, Bahrain, and Saudi Arabia itself. That, in turn, could pose risks to the security of oil exports from the region, which would likely have global economic effects.

Aside from generating the largest source of refugees since World War II, the Syrian cauldron has also provided a means for Russia to re-engage in the geopolitics of the Levant. Russian efforts to weaponize migrant flows out of Syria to Europe have given the Kremlin additional leverage to weaken liberal democratic forces within some key “new” European Union members and hence to further vitiate European and Transatlantic resolve with respect to Ukraine. What started as a Levantine tragedy has now become a global challenge with many dimensions. The risk cascade of the Syrian civil war is thus far more extensive than most observers would have predicted five years ago.

Syria is not the only example we can cite. Even beyond Iraq and Libya in recent times, there is Afghanistan back in the 1980s, which gave rise to a jointly produced Soviet-U.S.-Pakistani risk cascade. On perhaps a less strategically salient scale, what started out as a vicious but narrow Rwandan tragedy ended up disrupting the politics and stability of Central Africa, with consequences still echoing today. But despite these and many other examples, U.S. policymakers still lack an analytical framework to accurately assess risk cascades and their importance to U.S. national interests. American policymakers need to better leverage U.S. assets to assess, prevent, and respond to conflicts and troubled states. In sum, we need to do a better job of connecting the dots, a problem not limited to dealing with fragile and failing states.

The Rise and Fall and Rise of Fragile States

Although concerns over fragile states began to influence U.S. national security thinking in the late 1990s, when the United States was at its strongest position with respect to other world powers in generations, 9/11 catapulted the issue to center stage. Top officials became so worried after the attacks that they put such countries at the very center of security concerns. As the 2002 U.S. National Security Strategy (NSS) declared, “The events of September 11, 2001 taught us that weak states, like Afghanistan, can pose as great a danger to our national interests as strong states.”1

Other Western governments followed suit, reorienting their foreign policy and aid toward fragile states.2 Government bodies, think tanks, academics, intergovernmental organizations, nongovernmental organizations, and even corporations convened commissions, conducted inquiries, and launched programs focused on fragile states. Lists proliferated, indices multiplied, and a small industry of consultants and analysts flourished.

The boom was followed, as many booms are, by a bust. Many of the ideas around fragility were not necessarily wrong, but the dangers came to be seen as exaggerated, and related ideas about how to diagnose and counter fragility were not based on a mature appreciation of what ailed countries. There was excessive focus on poverty, technocratic capabilities, and Western normative ideas of governance. The World Bank, for instance, framed the whole issue around income levels; only low-income countries could be on its list of fragile states. The Institute for State Effectiveness argued that fragility was caused by a state’s inability to handle ten key functions and that the way forward depended on addressing these deficiencies.3 Indices such as the Fund for Peace’s Failed States Index (now called the Fragile States Index) aggregated quantitative data on violence, corruption, state capacity, and regime type to try and gauge how fragile a state is.

The bust was epitomized by the Obama Administration’s skeptical approach. In its view, while fragile states posed problems for international order, they had but weak links to American foreign policy concerns. In many cases, the issues that mattered were more likely to be a product of corrupt or misgoverned but still functional states such as Pakistan rather than failed ones such as Somalia.4 In any case, a targeted approach to achieving U.S. aims would work better than any attempt to prop up weak states as a group. The 2010 NSS emphasized that the “the gravest danger to the American people and global security” was threats related to “weapons of mass destruction, particularly nuclear weapons” before going on to dwell on issues such as cyber threats, climate change, and dependence on fossil fuels. “Weak and failing states” mattered in this analysis, but only as part of the larger strategic context.

The bust was followed by a search for a more realistic equilibrium. In this case, the implosion of several Arab states starting in 2011, and the consequences that followed, forced a correction. Parallel concerns about health pandemics, international crime, and the weakness of some African countries certainly helped, too. The result is that today we have a synthesis of previous positions. The 2015 NSS elevates the “significant security consequences associated with weak or failing states” to one of its eight “top strategic risks.” The increasing attention to fragile states within the U.S. policymaking community has been paralleled internationally.5

At the same time, a better understanding of the drivers of fragility—the fruit of more than a decade of research—has yielded a much stronger emphasis on the role of politics, institutions, and social exclusion. There is now a consensus that persistent inequalities between different societal groups, lack of inclusive growth, and weak institutions are crosscutting issues, as recent examples in Iraq, South Sudan, and Yemen highlight. Such thinking was also reflected in the 2015 NSS, which stated that “the nexus of weak governance and widespread grievance allows extremism to take root, violent non-state actors to rise up, and conflict to overtake state structures.”

Similarly, the 2015 OECD report “States of Fragility” declared that “the key drivers of conflict in many of the fragile and conflict-affected countries often revolve around injustice, inequality, ethnic tensions and, in extreme cases, religious radicalisation of various kinds. . . . Weak institutions could also be a source of collapse in seemingly strong states.”6 The UN’s global development agenda shifted in 2015 from a focus on poverty, education, and health (in the Millennium Development Goals) to building resilient states with “peaceful and inclusive societies, access to justice for all, and effective and capable institutions” (in the Sustainable Development Goals).7

Of course, some still believe, as Amy Zegart wrote in 2015, that “Washington’s paranoia over weak and failing states is distracting it from the real national security threats.”8 But the Obama Administration seemed capable of downplaying the significance of both weak and strong state challenges; it did not need distractions to shape its risk-averse disposition.

Now that we are in the post-Obama era, such evaluations seem less important. What is important is that we understand that, while fragile states are certainly not the main threat that the United States faces—threats posed by China, Russia, Iran, North Korea, and a coterie of sub-state Islamists are arguably greater—under-reacting to them and the multiple-order effects of fragility nevertheless remains a problem, as the Syria and Libya debacles have demonstrated.

Moreover, as we can see from the Russian element in the Syria example, these threat domains are not hermetically sealed off from one another. They interact, sometimes nastily. That is why it still matters that fragile states are the least understood, most unpredictable, and least well-planned for set of risks U.S. policymakers face. We can do better.

Difficulties Assessing Risk

The U.S. government should rationally and systematically assess and address the wide range of risks that face the country, but there are myriad ideological, institutional, and informational reasons why this rarely happens. Too often, policymakers emphasize the wrong risks or respond to the right risks in the wrong way.

There are at least five factors that hamper effective risk analysis. One is that, as Eliot A. Cohen has argued, top officials often are so overwhelmed by competing concerns that they are short of time to effectively make what are hard choices. Important decisions are inevitably decided upon by very few people, who only have so many hours a day to investigate issues and possible responses, leading to muddled thinking and uncreative policy prescriptions.9 The difficulties are multiplied by the vastly different kinds of risks leaders must consider. Dealing with China, for instance, requires a different approach than dealing with a weak state; few have the breadth of experience and knowledge necessary to manage both well.

Such difficulties are often exacerbated by the difficulties of managing a sprawling bureaucracy made up of institutions and individuals that compete over policy and the importance of their own role in making it. Put simply, as Cohen and other veterans of the U.S. foreign policy maelstrom know: “Orderly administration is very hard.”

The media and domestic politics don’t make decision-making any easier. Too often, they force leaders to respond to crises that might be better left ignored, such as in Libya in 2011. Or they lobby for decisions that are best left deferred—or never taken—such as support for an independent South Sudan.10 Or they oversimplify issues in ways that distort priorities, as has often been the case with foreign aid, where programs have become too risk averse, too focused on short-term results, and too partial to using American suppliers and contractors.11 On the other hand, some important issues go completely ignored even when they are important because of the lack of media attention or a domestic constituency to lobby for them, as was the case with healthcare infrastructure in fragile states, which only became important after Ebola.

Administrations try too hard to avoid mistakes from the past, falling into a “history trap.”12 The Clinton Administration stayed away from Rwanda because of scars earned in Somalia; meanwhile, hundreds of thousands were murdered. The Bush Administration was too aggressive in Iraq because it feared the consequences of being too passive after 9/11. The Obama Administration was overly cautious in Syria partly because of the quagmire of Iraq. Every time an event smells of appeasement (justly or not) Neville Chamberlain and his policies on Nazi Germany are hauled out of the history larder. The more a government makes decisions either in response to what are likely bent parallels, or in reaction against its own or its predecessors’ mistakes, the more likely it is to be wrong.

Finally, fragile states pose particular challenges for Washington politicians and policymakers because few are deeply familiar with the problems of underdevelopment, sectarianism, and state capture. Countries with stark social divisions and a weak or nonexistent government apparatus do not respond well to the typical Western liberal recipe offered—elections, economic reform, and the introduction of new institutions rarely stabilize situations. On the contrary, such policies can easily destabilize a state, begetting conflict and criminality, especially when done on the short time horizons that international actors prefer. Fragile states have unique problems that need deep study to be understood and effectively addressed. Investments to prevent crises are often not particularly expensive, but they do require the kind of long-term commitment that few administrations are primed to give.

Effects of the Risk Cascade

The risks emanating from fragile states are especially hard to assess because, as already noted, their most important components are often second-, third-, or even later-order effects that combine to create a large impact. Risk cascades exist because some events have a way of rippling across countries, institutions, non-state actors, supply chains, markets, and populations often in a nonlinear fashion. This does not mean “everything is connected to everything else”—what Hegel called the phenomenology of fools, because it negates any prospect of usefully prioritizing causality. But many things are related to many other things, and by prioritizing causality accurately we can know a good deal more about them than we do now.

While all risks produce multiple-order effects, risk cascades are particularly important in fragile states because the social and institutional fabric is susceptible to relatively mild shocks or stresses that would not harm more resilient systems. As such, just as companies must analyze how risk cascades through an entire value chain, the U.S. government should analyze how risk cascades through the entire governance system and economy in any country that might be affected.

The Libyan conflict presents a graphic example. The fall of Qaddafi created a power vacuum that has contributed to the destabilization of much of the Sahel, affecting countries from Mauritania to Chad and beyond; it strengthened Boko Haram, which is fighting four governments; it led to terror attacks and worries in relatively stable countries such as Côte d’Ivoire and Senegal; it spread weapons to groups seeking to overthrow the Egyptian state; it spread terror to Tunisia, which has had an especially devastating effect on the economy of the one success story of the so-called Arab Spring; and it produced a steady stream of refugees seeking safe haven in Europe. Along with the refugees from Syria, these have, in turn, contributed to a weakening of the European Union and the rise of right-wing parties across the continent. And the cascade is ongoing.13

The myriad problems that affected Mali, a relatively stable country before the fall of Qaddafi, became much more acute when the fallout from Libya settled on it. Social exclusion, weak institutions, a dysfunctional democracy, and a restive military led, when combined with the weapons proliferation and the expansion of secessionist and extremist claims produced by Libya’s vacuum, to a collapse of state authority in Mali’s north, a coup d’état in Bamako, and ongoing violence. Only an international intervention prevented either a radical Islamist takeover of the Malian state or its territorial dismemberment. The rest of the Sahel is similarly affected, if not to the same degree…yet. But debates over whether to intervene in Libya and to what extent to be involved after the fall of Qaddafi paid little heed to the larger implications for a dozen or so neighboring countries.14

The risks from fragile states come in many forms:

Is it possible to devise some sort of algorithm that can relate all these factors within a single unitary framework for policymakers? If so, it would allow policymakers at least to have some kind of interactive checklist so that truly egregious mistakes might perhaps be avoided. And some recent mistakes do fall into that category, regrettably.

Alas, we don’t know the answer to this question because, while various scholars have taken preliminary whacks at devising a unitary analytical framework, the U.S. government has never really tried. Some efforts were mooted in the early days after 9/11, but nothing remains of them now. It is worth asking, therefore, if the United States would have acted differently in Iraq in 2003 or Libya in 2011 if it had possessed a way to reckon the cascading effects of intervening? Would it have acted differently in Syria in 2013 and Iraq in 2009 if it had known the cascading effects of not intervening? The fact that U.S. policymakers made mistakes in judgment in all these cases strongly suggests that there is ample room for improvement.

Better Prioritizing and Reducing Foreign Risks

Effective assessment and prioritization of risk is possible; the number of dots in need of connection is large but not infinite. We know this because other governments seem to do a better job at this than we do. France held off from intervening in Mali throughout 2012 because it judged the risks to its interests could be contained but then abruptly shifted course in early 2013, when Islamist fighters captured the central town of Konna and announced plans to attack Bamako. The changing context determined the level of risk to its interests and the importance of acting to protect them.

Russia carefully assessed its risks and interests when setting policy in Syria. From the start of the conflict, it supported the Assad regime, a long-standing ally, but limited its assistance to weapons, military advice, and diplomatic support. But when the government’s position weakened in 2015, increasing the risks to Russian interests, Russia inserted military forces to stabilize the situation and reverse losses on the ground. Expectations were kept modest and did not include winning the war. As a result, limited force managed to reverse the tide of the conflict and shore up the government’s position and morale with only modest risk. It is less clear that Russia calibrated its risks and interests in Ukraine, where it may have overestimated its interests based on historical ties and underestimated the fallout from intervening; sanctions have bit hard, especially given falling oil prices.

In theory, at least, senior U.S. officials could do at least as well if they manage to rethink how to organize the government’s intelligence, diplomatic, and aid apparatuses such that they are better informed, more agile, and more responsive when combating the risks we face.

As a start, more systematic and regularly undertaken assessments and prioritizations of risk are necessary both to establish a more rational hierarchy of national security risks and to increase our ability to invest in upstream prevention measures. Too often, we are surprised by how fragility affects states, and just as often we fail to use our immense resources to better understand them. Grasping the incentives and influences that affect leaders’ decisions is crucial to better prevention, but it requires broader and deeper political analyses of ruling parties, non-state actors, opposition groups, institutions, militaries, and leading members of civil society at all levels. This includes marginalized regions that often get ignored but whose grievances may destabilize whole countries, as has happened in Yemen, Mali, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Pakistan, and the Central African Republic.

Regional dynamics also matter, as evidenced by the Middle East and West Africa.15 Off-the-shelf rankings of countries provide a poor gauge of such deep-seated dynamics. Instead, independently organized assessments that synthesize expert analyses with on-the-ground data are essential to monitor and interpret contexts that are rapidly changing and sometimes easily misunderstood from afar.

More investment in country experts and data collection in these contexts is crucial. Many fragile states have few international experts that consistently follow their inner workings. They have limited statistics capacity. Few international organizations regularly survey any aspect of their politics. The result is an inadequate basis for policymaking. Too often tired, one-size-fits-all approaches to helping countries are tried despite starkly different contexts, demonstrating a lack of both understanding and creativity.

As Robert Gates and others have argued, many conflicts can only be prevented or ended by use of “soft power.”16 It may by now be hackneyed to say so, but it is still true that the United States needs smarter soft power. It often depends on its robust military to address the challenges fragile states pose, at least partly because other institutions are inadequately prepared and funded, and despite the fact that they often would be more appropriate. Investment in diplomacy, diplomatic mechanisms (such as specialized international NGOs and local mediators), and international organizations such as the UN, the African Union, and ECOWAS would allow for more careful interventions.

Of course, these institutions have often come up short due to their own institutional deficiencies, and they need accountability. The UN, for instance, needs more capacity to undertake political risk assessments, diplomacy, and peacekeeping as well as stronger mechanisms to hold its representatives and employees responsible for their performance. Too often, the home of the world’s most important conflict prevention mechanisms has been ineffective. In some cases it may be necessary to establish new institutions, such as in the Middle East, which lacks a regional organization to address its various political and economic problems.

Strengthening the global, regional, and national institutions that bear the burden of the fallout from risk cascades would also help. Resilience depends on having the systems and resources to flexibly adapt and respond to crises as they appear. The better humanitarian actors, international institutions (such as the World Health Organization), and government agencies are prepared, the more likely they can absorb a combination of different risks should many things go wrong simultaneously.

Better training and preparation of State Department, allied foreign ministries, and international organizations such that they can better, more flexibly, and more quickly address issues can only help. This requires revamping training programs and improving institutions such that our frontline national representatives are best placed to assess conditions. The National Security Council and senior levels of government, in turn, need greater capacity to analyze, prioritize, and respond to potential problems before they occur.

Foreign aid plays a major if indirect role in maintaining stability across the world at relatively low cost.17 There will always be humanitarian or other goals that we will want to achieve, and aid budgets do not necessarily have to align with what a strategic reading of interests dictates. After all, aid orphans can create their own crises that, if left alone, may eventually become more significant. Many African countries, for instance, would be much weaker if aid were withdrawn, as happened toward the end of the Cold War; the bloodiest period in the continent’s postcolonial history was in the 1990s. If local conditions were better understood and risks better prioritized, then a few strategically important states could be chosen for long-term investment, as the United States did in Colombia in the 2000s. The British, French, Germans, Japanese, and even Chinese will be better placed to help certain countries than we will. Indeed, there is already a clear trend in Europe to concentrate aid on fewer countries per donor in order to improve effectiveness.18

Investment in mechanisms that reduce particular risks can also help. A string of healthcare centers across fragile states would offer early warning of potential problems much earlier than was the case with Ebola, enabling international actors to respond before a local issue becomes a regional or international risk. Global efforts to combat the trade of illicit drugs and money laundering reduce the risk that these will weaken already fragile states, as well as reduce the risk that fragile states will transmit their problems abroad.

Stress-testing countries or contexts with a number of plausible if unlikely scenarios may not produce accurate predictions, but it would expand the ability of policymakers to foresee possible implications of different situations or policy choices (for example, to intervene or not). Such exercises would help government better calibrate its actions, resulting in fewer all-or-nothing decisions; they would also better prepare it for the consequences of its choices—even choices not to act—as well as show what issues or trends should be monitored to see whether concerns are warranted. Combined with better assessments, they could lead to better-customized toolkits to address the unique challenges each country faces and be less dependent on one-size-fits-all solutions, which have repeatedly proven ineffective. A deeper understanding of the risk cascades would mean more hedging of risks by, for instance, staying in Libya in some form after the 2011 intervention or acting earlier in Syria.

Lastly, there is a need for much more honesty about U.S. limitations to effect change. Governmental institutions evolve slowly. Sectarian conflict, oligarchic control of public authority, and corruption cannot disappear overnight. Elections can help, but they can also destabilize countries where social divisions are stark. Full democratization takes generations. Sometimes it is better to seek incremental progress in a narrow range of areas rather than upturn a system that has maintained stability for a long time, even if the system does not suit our ideological tastes. As we learned after the Arab Spring, enhancing equity, inclusiveness, and legitimacy bit by bit sometimes delivers better returns than trying to achieve it by revolution.

Footnotes:

1. In a similar vein, the United States Agency for International Development’s January 2005 Fragile States Strategy declared, “There is perhaps no more urgent matter facing [us] than fragile states, yet no set of problems is more difficult and intractable. Twenty-first century realities demonstrate that ignoring these states can pose great risks and increase the likelihood of terrorism taking root.”

2.“It is very likely that the rise in instability observed over the last decade will be an enduring characteristic of the strategic landscape rather than a temporary phenomenon,” explains Investing in Prevention, a report issued by the United Kingdom’s Prime Minister’s Strategy Unit in early 2005. It concluded that fragile countries “have a significant impact on the achievement of a wider range of domestic and international objectives, including: security, humanitarian assistance, promotion of human rights, poverty reduction, terrorism, trade and prosperity, asylum, energy security and organized crime.”

3. See, for instance, “Fixing Failed States: A Framework for Rebuilding a Fractured World—Book Launch and Discussion with Ashraf Ghani and Clare Lockhart,” Public Event, Overseas Development Institute, London, May 22, 2008.

4. Stewart Patrick, Weak Links: Fragile States, Global Threats, and International Security (Oxford University Press, 2011).

5. European governments have been forced to address the fallout of the Arab Spring. The United Nations has sought to improve its effectiveness in conflict prevention and peacekeeping. The World Bank and leading bilateral donors are increasingly focused on these countries; the British government, for instance, has pledged to refocus its aid spending so that it will “target at least half of the Department for International Development’s budget on stabilising and supporting broken and fragile states.” David Cameron, “Lord Mayor’s Banquet 2015: Prime Minister’s Speech,” November 16, 2015, London.

6. Erik Solheim and Kaifala Marah, “Editorial” in “States of Fragility 2015: Meeting Post-2015 Ambitions” (OECD Publishing, 2015).

7. Aparna Ramanan, “New U.N. Goals Highlight Danger of ‘State Fragility’ to Development,” United States Institute of Peace, June 16, 2015.

8.Amy Zegart, “Stop Drinking the Weak Sauce,” Foreign Policy, February 23, 2015.

9. Eliot Cohen, “The Simultaneity Trap,” The American Interest, February 9, 2016.

10. See, for instance, Rebecca Hamilton, “Special Report: The Wonks Who Sold Washington on South Sudan,” Reuters, July 11, 2012; Alan Boswell, “The Failed State Lobby,” Foreign Policy, July 9, 2012.

11. Andrew Natsios, “The Clash of the Counter-Bureaucracy and Development,” Center for Global Development Essay (CGD, July 2010).

12. Cohen, “The History Trap,” The American Interest, February 18, 2016.

13. There are many reports of these effects. See, for instance, European Parliament, “EU Must Maintain Its Aid to Libya, Say MEPs,” February 4, 2016. Also see, Seth Kaplan, “Libya Spillover: Mapping Northern Africa’s Growing Chaos,” Fragile States Forum, July 14, 2014.

14. See, for instance, Andrew Rettman, “Mali Coup is ‘Spill-over’ From EU-led War in Libya,” EU Observer, March 28, 2012. Note also that Adam Garfinkle wrote at TAI Online in 2011 (“Down the Rabbit Hole,” March 22), “We are . . . looking into the maw of a Libya that may well be divided . . . . And in due course, if the fractious mess lasts long enough, there is a reasonable prospect that al-Qaeda will find a way to establish a foothold amid the mayhem.”

15. International Crisis Group, “Seizing the Moment: From Early Warning to Early Action,” Special Report, June 23, 2016.

16. Ann Scott Tyson, “Gates Urges Increased Funding for Diplomacy,” Washington Post, November 27, 2007.

17. At the least, foreign aid allows rulers in fragile states to maintain stable patronage systems or buy off opponents in order to keep the peace, at least in the short term. A dramatic decline in revenue from a drop in aid would decimate the tenuous links that keep countries whole, as happened the last time foreign aid declined precipitously—in the immediate post-Cold War period. See, for instance, Richard Nielsen, Michael Findley, Zachary Davis, Tara Candland, and Daniel Nielson, “Foreign Aid Shocks as a Cause of Violent Armed Conflict,” American Journal of Political Science (April 2011).

18. For instance, the United Kingdom’s Department for International Development (DFID) reduced the number of countries it serves from 49 to 27 in a 2011 review. In the same year, the Dutch government’s aid agency reduced the number of its recipients from 33 to 15 and cut the number of its target sectors to four. Annie Kelly, “Winners and Losers in the UK Aid Review,” The Guardian Poverty Matters Blog, March 1, 2011. Rizza Leonzon, “Netherlands Plans More Focused Aid Sector Priorities,” Devex Development Newswire, March 22, 2011.

Seth D. Kaplan is a professorial lecturer in the Paul H. Nitze School of Advanced International Studies (SAIS) at Johns Hopkins University, where he teaches a class on political risk. He is also senior adviser for the Institute for Integrated Transitions (IFIT) and a consultant to organizations such as the World Bank, USAID, and United Nations. The author wishes to thank Paul Stares of the Council on Foreign Relations for generating many of the original ideas in this essay during a series of conversations in the spring of 2016.

Read on The American Interest

Share this article

Time and again, countries that have experienced repression and armed conflict have an opportunity to transition to a better future. Yet, only a minority succeeds. The challenges may appear obvious, but the path forward is rarely so. And, as the initial optimism generated by the 2015 elections comes to an end, the Sri Lankan case is proving no exception.

Many Latin American states overcame military dictatorships, but still experience very high levels of violence and inequality. The transitions in many former Soviet states produced authoritarianism and massive expropriations of state property. Many African states collapsed into anarchic civil war in the 1990s while trying to transition away from despotism. Many post-authoritarian Asian countries have experienced positive economic growth, but remain plagued by corruption. And today, many states in the Arab region struggle to create stable and accountable governments – and curb open armed conflict – despite widespread demand for change.

One recurring problem, now on display in Sri Lanka, is the size and complexity of reform programmes. Often, too much is attempted too quickly in what are highly complicated, and often highly combustible, environments. Achieving individual public goods – democracy, improvements in public services, rapid growth and so on – cannot happen without significant trade-offs elsewhere. Yet despite this, many transitional governments continue to get caught up in the illusion that “all good things go together”, acting as though their transition’s window for deep reform will last indefinitely.

Particularly problematic is the fact that governments with ambitious reform agendas, such as in Sri Lanka, rarely devote adequate attention to “integration” – i.e., a continuous adjusting of the optimal sequencing and interrelationship between all of the legitimate reforms they want to achieve. Integration of this sort too often ends up being nobody’s job, with the consequence that well-intended actions in one area of priority easily risk derailing the others – or the transition as a whole.

This is precisely the risk that Sri Lanka cannot afford to run.

As is well known in policy circles, the current government has been working since last year on a number of signature initiatives on which it has promised to deliver important results, including constitutional reform (CR), transitional justice (TJ) and broad-ranging economic reform (ER). Indisputably, the former two are crucial to ensuring that the social divisions that have plagued the country do not recur.

But the challenges of reconciling these priorities is far from straightforward, because in managing its limited political capital, the government is bound to satisfy competing interests of a wide range of different actors. For example, Tamils expect federalism and internationalised justice, the Sinhalese majority expects national reconciliation within a unitary structure, and the Muslim community’s CR and TJ interests lie somewhere in between. All groups have different sets of economic circumstances and expectations.

These divergent interests ought to be reconcilable. However, for that to happen, 1) the government coalition must stay intact, as it is arguably the prerequisite for Sri Lanka’s transition to a more inclusive polity, and 2) effective messaging must be developed to ensure ongoing, cross-community support.

In the near term, the government will also have to succeed in a “life and death” constitutional referendum. For that, only a victory that is deeply supported by the Sinhalese majority and broadly supported across other communities can avoid the immediate end of the government, or its conversion into a lame duck administration. As such, until the referendum takes place, everything within the CR process – and likewise, everything on the TJ and ER fronts – must be handled in a way that strengthens the odds of a solid victory.

While good progress is apparently being made within the Steering Committee of the Constitutional Assembly with regard to CR, it is unclear to what extent those outside of the elite-level discussions – such as Members of Parliament and Provincial Councillors – are aware of these developments. As a recent survey by the Centre for Policy Alternatives (CPA) demonstrates, a quarter of Sri Lankans are unaware there is even a CR process taking place, while three-quarters of the population have not heard of the Constitutional Assembly.

These statistics should provoke deep concern, as a referendum campaign for a new constitution cannot be successfully conducted unless all sections of the ruling coalition are behind it, and even more importantly, the public is informed and engaged about the rationale and substance of reform.

Of equal import is the fact that other politically intertwined decisions and processes are currently in the process of culmination – including a new national budget, fresh local elections, the imminent TJ task force report (and subsequent UN report-back process), and the various anti-corruption inquiries.

As such, an integrated framework for reform has become a political necessity. If the idea of an integrated approach is accepted in principle, it must be further elaborated into a workable strategy as a top priority. At the very least, there must be an informal but high-level working group, representing all sections of pro-reform opinion within the government, the broader political community, and civil society, that can regularly meet to discuss emerging issues, share information, solve problems, coordinate action, and consider adjustments to the strategic direction of the transition.

Such an approach is especially vital for Sri Lanka given that the unity government is made up of rival political parties. This gives rise to inevitable tensions within the government, and the prospect of reform will be fatally affected if these are not managed successfully. The President’s recent public criticisms of the manner in which certain corruption inquiries are conducted points to a lack of internal coordination within the government. Similarly, there have been conflicting public opinions expressed by the highest levels of the leadership about the means and ends of the TJ process.

Sri Lanka’s democracy was robust enough to mandate reform not once but twice in 2015. Such an historic opportunity as the country has today must not be squandered for want of an integrated framework and forum for regular discussion. It is a question of renewing and re-conceiving the multi-party, civic-political cooperation that brought about this window of opportunity for reform in the first place. There is still time for Sri Lanka to succeed where so many other transitions have failed.

Mark Freeman is the Executive Director of the Institute for Integrated Transitions (IFIT). Asanga Welikala is Lecturer in Public Law, University of Edinburgh, and Research Fellow, Centre for Policy Alternatives (CPA).

Originally published in The Sunday Times

Share this article

Drawing on decades of experience with international assistance in dozens of transitional countries, this IFIT publication seeks to explain—for the benefit of local governmental and nongovernmental aid recipients—the Western aid system that lands in their countries in periods of transition out of war or authoritarianism. The aim is to help recipients of transition assistance better understand how the industry operates so that they may find ways to ensure that their vision is supported, rather than hindered, by assistance providers.

The guide aims to clarify the kinds of international actors offering such assistance, their motivations and interests, the forms of assistance they offer, the theories of change on which their actions are based, and the sorts of operational issues that arise most frequently in practice. It is premised on the conviction that greater knowledge and tools on the part of those on the receiving side can appreciably improve the results of national transitions. 

The DOI registration ID for this publication is: https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.10490996

Share this article

There has been at least a bit of good news from Libya lately. Over the past few days, militias allied with the internationally recognized unity government have made substantial advances against Islamic State forces based in the city of Sirte. That has awakened hopes that Libyans might be on their way toward re-establishing an effective central government.

For the time being, however, the country remains badly fractured. Libya has been in a state of anarchy since the ousting of Muammar Qaddafi in 2011. Rival administrations, dozens of different armed groups, and complex and shifting tribal alliances have battled for control of the oil-rich state. Until its latest setbacks, the Islamic State exerted control over some 150 miles of the Mediterranean coastline. Meanwhile, tens of thousands of refugees from across Africa have exploited the chaos, using Libya as their launching pad for travel onward to Europe.

Worries over the risks posed by such turmoil explain the rush of the United States and other world powers to provide Libya’s national unity government withmilitary assistance. Western diplomats are desperate to see a central authority emerge that they can entrust with fighting the Islamic State and stopping refugees at its borders.

Sadly, the new government has struggled to extend its writ beyond a handful of ministries it currently controls in Tripoli, the capital. Many observers are skeptical that it can do more, especially given its complete dependence on local militias for protection. Indeed, these efforts are built on sand; they are embedded in Libya’s weaknesses rather than its strengths.

The international community has tried and tried again to bring some order and stability to the situation, and has repeatedly failed to deliver. The previous U.N. special envoy, Bernardino León, tried for months to broker an agreement between two governments (and their affiliated political networks, militias, and backers) without success. Fearful that the talks would collapse, the new envoy, Martin Kobler, forced the issue by establishing a new national unity government in December 2015. But the other governments and many factions throughout the country continue to resist its mandate. Meanwhile, the international backers of various rival groups continue to flout an arms embargo, providing finance and hardware to their clients inside the country. The country grows ever more fragmented, fostering more fighting and more jihadism.

As in so many cases before, the current effort to broker some kind of agreement misses the most obvious point of entry. The many failed attempts to manufacture national unity stand in stark contrast to comparable efforts on the local level, where Libya’s myriad tribes and municipalities have proved themselves to be effective organizers of public authority. They have also negotiated local cease-firesconcluded agreements on issues as varied as prisoner exchange and checkpoint removal, and resolved criminal investigations.

Yet the international community’s plan for fixing the country has rigidly followed the standard “transitions” script: first set up a national unity government, then hold parliamentary elections. This approach only exacerbates Libya’s core weaknesses, namely its profound social divisions and its non-existent national institutions.

Libya does not have — at least for now — sufficient social cohesion and institutional capacity to establish a robust central government that can control all its territory. Even if the internationally recognized unity government were somehow able to gain support from its rivals, the agreement would be a flimsy thing. The fragile state that Libyans inherited from the predatory Qaddafi dictatorship cannot simply be pieced together again through a top-down approach: the central authority established will not be strong enough to arbitrate between factions or combat warlordism, jihadism, and criminality. Instead, it risks just creating one additional actor that will have to compete for power with elements of the rival governments as well as independent powerbrokers and militias.

A more prudent approach would be to work from the bottom up, focusing on Libya’s political assets: functional local governance and effective, tribal-based conflict management mechanisms. The country’s tribes are especially importantbecause their long histories and socially embedded institutions make them more durable than its shallow-rooted political parties and coalitions.

Local agreements with modest but achievable goals have a far greater chance of success.

These would involve fewer players, and each would have a better chance of enforcing the commitments made within their own spheres of influence. They would also be far better placed to implement and police agreements, as well as arbitrate differences both between and, when necessary, within groups.

A limited agreement or set of agreements between a small number of the most powerful local actors — for instance, Misrata, Zintan, the Warfallah, the Warshefana, the Obeidat, the Amazigh, and the Awaqir — would obviously have to take into account obstacles such as resistance to compromise from the hardliners in each group. This has prevented previous attempts at forging ad-hoc local agreements from achieving more — but then the peace brokers face exactly the same stumbling block to their efforts to create a robust government of national unity.

International actors should be supporting, training and advising local actors in parallel with efforts to develop an all-encompassing, top-down political settlement. Indeed, the two processes should be organized in such a way as to reinforce each other in a virtuous cycle. Change would certainly be slow and patchy, but once a few islands of stability begin to do well, others would be inclined to join and momentum would grow. Over time demand for national services such as central banking would increase, and central authority would grow in response.

This piecemeal approach may sound unorthodox, but it has many honorable precedents in countries such as ColombiaUganda, and parts of Somalia. In fact, state recovery from failure or extreme weakness typically happens in this piecemeal fashion, advancing in fits and starts rather than through a single great leap.

Unless the international community can acquire the flexibility to push aside the same old centralized approach, its efforts are doomed to fail. It’s obvious, really. Countries work best when they build on their strengths. Asking them to build on their weaknesses is a recipe for — more — failure.

Originally published in Foreign Policy.

Share this article

Guatemala’s principle claim to fame, until recently, was a justice system considered to be among the worst in the world. Yet even in a country as troubled as this, change is possible.

Take, for instance, the looming presidential election. The favourite to win the runoff vote on 25 October is comedian Jimmy Morales. Unusually for a Guatemalan presidential candidate, he has no close connection with the traditional political elite, and his campaign slogan is “Neither corrupt nor a thief”.

Guatemala is dogged by many pressing problems, the legacy of centuries of social exclusion, a 36-year civil war in which 200,000 people died, and a history of weak institutions. The civil war officially ended in 1996, but violence and human rights abuses have continued. However, the central problem at the heart of Guatemalan life has been the endemic corruption that has been allowed to flourish by a justice system that lacked the ability to punish it – until recently.

Now, however, Guatemala’s elites are at last being called to account. The UN-sponsored CICIG – in English, the International Commission against Impunity in Guatemala – was set up in 2006. Since then, it has brought criminal charges against the former president and vice-president, the president of the central bank, the former head of Congress, as well as against the country’s head of tax, social security agencies and the leaders of several political parties.

In turn, this has been the catalyst for a nationwide protest movement that played a critical role in ousting President Otto Pérez Molina, a former head of intelligence during the civil war and a man once considered unassailable. His arrest on corruption charges is expected to open the door to the prosecution of many more high-ranking officials.

While it is true that at 70%, the percentage of crimes that do not result in prosecutions remains unusually high, but even this is more than 25 percentage points lower than it was before CICIG was set up. So Guatemala, of all places, may now be a positive role model among fragile states.

Fragile states are one of the world’s most pressing challenges. Countries such as Nigeria, Pakistan, and Somalia contribute disproportionately to instability and terrorism worldwide. Poverty is increasingly concentrated within their borders, and considerable amounts of aid seem to change little.

Anchoring an important institution, such as the judiciary, in a highly legitimate multilateral institution, such as the UN, seems to have made all the difference to Guatemala. Its judiciary now has the autonomy and capacity to hold elites accountable in a way that no wholly domestic entity could. Other government institutions work better, and the population can more boldly demand government reform.

“We realised that we couldn’t fix our institutions alone,” said Eduardo Stein, the former vice-president who helped set up CICIG. “We figured that if [UN] member states could ask the security council for peacekeepers, why not help to address an internal problem that is as serious as war – organised crime?”

With the right leadership and in partnership with the prosecutor’s office, CICIG has completely changed the judicial and political equation. Since its inception, the agency has launched more than 200 investigations, leading to criminal charges against more than 160 current or former officials. Almost all have been convicted.

The agency has created a special prosecutor’s unit; new specialised courts are designed to protect judges from threats; there is a witness protection programme; and a new unit provides security for prosecutors. Some might argue that such an arrangement is an infringement upon sovereignty, but Guatemalans like it – 65% of those polled trust the agency. 

There are other examples where externally anchored institutions play crucial roles in fragile states beyond the obvious role of peacekeeping. In Liberia, the Governance and Economic Management Assistance Program is jointly managed by the government and the international community, overseeing state budgets to reduce corruption and mismanagement. The European Union, by far the most important external governance anchor in the world, has contributed to democratisation and economic reform across central and eastern Europe.

Fragile states could also benefit from an external anchor to make finance ministries, anti-corruption agencies, and high-level courts more robust. Without an external anchor, states such as Nigeria, Kenya and the Democratic Republic of the Congo are unlikely ever to hold their elites accountable for their misuse of state resources. Left to themselves, states such as Iraq, Libya, South Sudan and Somalia are unlikely to create legitimate national institutions that can peacefully arbitrate disagreements between ethnic, religious and clan groups.

Across Latin America, the Middle East and Africa, protests have erupted against social exclusion, the misuse of state resources, and impunity, but they are unlikely to change much on their own. Guatemala’s quiet justice revolution shows the way forward.

Seth D Kaplan is a professorial lecturer in the Paul H Nitze School of Advanced International Studies at Johns Hopkins University and senior adviser to the Institute for Integrated Transitions. He thanks Jimena Leiva Roesch, a former Guatemalan diplomat, for her assistance with this article.

Originally published in The Guardian.

Share this article

Since the Islamic State began seizing significant amounts of territory in northern Syria and Iraq, policy makers and analysts have focused primarily on the question of whether America should arm the Kurds to fight the jihadi group.

But this debate overlooks a key flaw in America’s Kurdish policy: while military support for the Kurds in Iraq and Syria has increased, the development of a corresponding political road map to deal with Kurdish entities in the region has lagged behind. Washington’s exclusive focus on enabling the Kurds to fight the Islamic State risks creating new problems that could plague Iraq and Syria for much longer.

The United States has come to believe it faces a dilemma: It needs to arm the Kurds to fight the Islamic State, but it is wary of kindling the Kurds’ political expectations.

In order to fight the Islamic State along a long front line in Syria and Iraq, America needs help from Kurdish forces in both countries. To this end, it has provided military support to the Kurdistan Regional Government in Iraq and coordinated airstrikes with the dominant Kurdish armed force in Syria, the People’s Protection Units, or Y.P.G.

Meanwhile, the Obama administration has been hesitant to strengthen the semi-autonomous institutions of the Iraqi Kurdistan region, largely out of concern that these could one day be the building blocks of Iraqi Kurdish independence. Even American military assistance has benefited Kurdish forces affiliated with specific political parties rather than the region’s integrated military institution as a whole. That’s because the United States and many of its regional allies worry that a Kurdish breakaway from Iraq would invite greater unpredictability and chaos, including by stoking similar separatist sentiments among Kurdish populations in neighboring countries, thereby risking the collapse of the regional order.

In reality, however, independence is a highly unlikely scenario for reasons that have little to do with American policy. These include entrenched divisions among Iraqi Kurds and growing Kurdish dependence on regional powers like Iran and Turkey that reject the idea of Kurdish independence outright. Although independence remains an emotionally powerful aspiration among many Kurds it has in practice become more of a political card for some Iraqi Kurdish leaders to play than a viable political project.

The United States has been careful not to jeopardize its strategic relationship with Turkey. It has only been willing to risk Turkey’s ire for one reason: to aid the Y.P.G. in its fight against the Islamic State. Last week, the American military reportedly airdropped 50 tons of ammunition to forces, including many Y.P.G. fighters, in northern Syria. While arming these Syrian Kurds, Washington has shied away from engaging diplomatically with the Y.P.G.’s political branch, the Syrian Democratic Union Party, or P.Y.D. (Turkey views the P.Y.D. as a potential threat due to its ties with the Kurdistan Workers’ Party, or P.K.K.)

The problem with bolstering the Kurds’ military strength without a parallel political initiative is that America hasn’t set clear restraints on what the Kurds can do with their newfound strength or offered them guarantees of what they can expect in the future. This has reduced America’s ability to influence its Kurdish allies, even as they stretch beyond their traditional frontiers.

In Iraq, Kurdish forces have moved into ethnically mixed territories, where they now exercise de facto control. Knowing that American military support comes with only one string attached — fighting the Islamic State — Kurdish fighters have hastily established control on the ground. They have used their military advantage to subordinate local non-Kurds in Kirkuk and other disputed territories, sowing feelings of mutual distrust and revenge.

In northern Syria, Kurdish forces have worked fast to consolidate their control with the aim of positioning themselves as unavoidable players in the future of the country. However, the Kurds’ advances into areas that are not predominately Kurdish have provoked enmity from other groups. The Syrian government’s old narrative, which brands all Syrian Kurds as “separatists,” is now being echoed by non-Kurdish opposition groups fighting against the regime of Bashar al-Assad.

America’s exclusive military focus has encouraged the Kurds to invest disproportionately in their military achievements. This approach has alienated non-Kurdish populations who now live under Kurdish rule, while increasing intra-Kurdish competition for access to foreign military support. The P.Y.D., for instance, may now seek to strike up a relationship with Russia or use the prospect of such a partnership as leverage to acquire greater American military support. All of this makes Washington’s immediate goal of pulling together a coordinated fight against the Islamic State and the longer-term goal of removing the conditions that allowed the group to arise ever more elusive.

Military assistance to the Kurds must be combined with a clear political roadmap. At a minimum, this would mean an American commitment to develop Iraqi Kurdish institutions and help mediate budget and oil disputes with Baghdad, which would provide some critical guarantees to the welfare of the Kurdish region.

Washington could provide such support in return for the Kurds’ agreeing to establish joint security and administrative arrangements with local non-Kurdish actors in the disputed territories.

In Syria, the United States should match its military support for the Y.P.G. with political engagement of the P.Y.D. In return, the Syrian Kurds could pledge to address Turkish concerns by distancing themselves from the P.K.K.’s fight against Turkey. To do this, the P.Y.D. and Y.P.G. would need to implement previous cooperation agreements with Iraqi Kurdish groups that have strong relations with Turkish government and to share decision-making power with Arab opposition factions backed by Turkey. All of this would give Washington more influence over Syrian Kurdish forces before they push further into mixed or non-Kurdish areas.

America must stop dealing with the Kurds strictly as military allies. Otherwise, Washington could end up contributing to precisely the sort of regional instability that its policy is intended to prevent.

Originally published in The New York Times.

Share this article

After more than two years of debate and negotiations, the United Nations will approve the adoption of 17 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) as the centerpiece of its post-2015 development agenda at a summit of world leaders September 25-27. The goals are much broader and more comprehensive than the Millennium Development Goals they replace, and cover a wide range of economic and political issues, including poverty, inequality, hunger, employment, education, the environment, and energy.

More than just a wishlist, the SDGs are also about advancing a vision of progress encapsulated by goal 16, which aims to “promote just, peaceful and inclusive societies” across the world. Indeed, the theme of inclusiveness runs through almost all of the SDGs that focus on national-level challenges. The word “inclusive” appears six times. The word “all” appears 10 times. The words equitable, equality, and inequality also make an appearance. As such, the SDGs very much reflect the fact that overcoming exclusion and inequality in their various forms is the largest problem facing human societies today and the biggest challenge to the development community.

Although the scale of ambition raises immediate questions about implementation, the SDGs do not delve deeply into such issues. Targets and indicators are set with limited concern for country starting conditions and the political dynamics that are key to their success. The particular challenges of fragile states—which are likely to be the largest obstacle to implementation—are not addressed. Lacking the social cohesion and robust institutions necessary to overcome the systemic exclusion and inequality that keep them unstable and underdeveloped, fragile states are the farthest from achieving the vision of progress laid out by the SDGs, and likely to face the hardest road to get there.

The developing world is rapidly diverging into two groups—states robust enough to maintain order and promote development, and states too fragile to do either. Yet, none of the SDGs take into account this growing divide. Instead, mostly everything the development community—and the SDGs—seeks to accomplish assumes that countries are either beyond fragility or can become so within a reasonable period of time.

History suggests that this is highly unlikely. Despite considerable amounts of aid, change in fragile states remains elusive. Countries from Nigeria and South Sudan to Yemen, Iraq, and Pakistan have been unable to change their longstanding exclusive dynamics. They continue to be plagued by limited social cohesion, poor governance, exclusive growth, and feeble development outcomes. While more robust states are reducing violence and poverty and are likely to make substantial progress towards the SDGs, fragile states are likely to be left behind. Already, some two-fifths of global poverty is concentrated within their borders—even though they account for only one-fifth of the world’s population. This proportion is not expected to fall, but instead to rise to two-thirds by 2030.

Only innovative approaches that yield better political frameworks, more inclusive social dynamics, and better institutions—and ideally some combination of all three—can hope to catalyze the kind of internally generated change that these countries desperately need. Guatemala, for instance, has seen dramatic changes in recent months because a creative new type of institution was established within the country to tackle corruption; its success has reshaped the political dynamics that have long held back the country, offering the chance that this highly unequal country will become more inclusive in the process.

The UN-backed International Commission against Impunity in Guatemala (CICIG) is doing what no completely domestic institution could accomplish: hold elites accountable for their actions. Charges have been brought against the president, vice-president, central bank governor, head of congress, heads of the customs, tax, and social security agencies, leaders from several political parties, and senior police officials.

Transitions started by the end of a conflict, a repressive regime’s demise, or a similar critical juncture offers the best opportunities to introduce such innovations. CICIG, for instance, is an outgrowth of the commitments the Guatemalan government made in the peace agreement ending the country’s civil war. The UN played a special role in the establishment of CICIG (through an agreement with the country), and continues to be critical to ensuring its successful operation.

Multilateral institutions such as the UN, which already play a major role in peacemaking, could make a more significant contributions to transitions—as they did in the 1990s. This would require shoring up and leveraging their unique international stature and neutrality to create innovative solutions such as CICIG to promote inclusiveness, equality, and accountability in ways that domestic actors working alone often cannot.

The SDGs are a bold attempt to set the development agenda for the next 15 years. But they are just goals. The challenge will be in implementation. Fragile states will be the hardest places. Without an improved understanding of their structural deficits, and an agenda of deliberate and targeted innovation, the UN’s goals will remain dead letter in these states.

Seth D. Kaplan is a professorial lecturer in the Paul H. Nitze School of Advanced International Studies at Johns Hopkins University and Senior Adviser to the Institute for Integrated Transitions.

Originally published in IPI.

Share this article

More than a year after the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL) took over Mosul, one of Iraq’s largest cities, the group is still gaining ground across the country.

In May, ISIL took Ramadi, the provincial capital of Anbar, after the Iraqi army melted away in an episode reminiscent of the fall of Mosul. 

The most successful fighting force against ISIL in Iraq over the past year has not been the national army, which the US has spent at least $25bn trying to build up, but rather armed groups – including Iran-backed Shia militias and Kurdish Peshmerga – whose loyalties lie primarily with particular factions or identity groups rather than to the country as a whole. 

The Obama administration is clearly frustrated with the failure of its campaign to degrade and destroy ISIL.

US Defence Secretary Ashton Carter complained that in Ramadi, Iraqi forces showed no will to fight, saying: “We can give them training, we can give them equipment – we obviously can’t give them the will to fight.”

He continued with a non-sequitur, saying the US would proceed with training and equipping the Iraqi army in the hope that they would develop this will to fight. 

US President Barack Obama, perhaps more honestly than Carter, recently admitted that he still does not have a “complete” strategy in regards to ISIL. 

Quick-fix solutions 

Many think that the most promising quick-fix solution on the table is to arm Sunni tribal fighters in Anbar, despite the risk that this would further undermine the national army’s legitimacy. 

These strategies may result in short-term gains against ISIL, but they will not help the country turn the corner away from persistent dysfunction and violence.

The case of Iraq shows how, in countries transitioning out of authoritarianism or conflict, a great deal of money can be wasted on trying to reform state institutions that have virtually no legitimacy to start with.

The top-down idea of institutional reform only makes sense in countries with sufficient social cohesion to ensure these institutions will be perceived as representing the popular will.

What Iraq needs – before reforms aimed at improving the army or other institutions can make a difference – is the creation of an inclusive dynamic that mitigates the state’s legitimacy crisis, by making the vast majority of people throughout the country feel that the state works equally well for them.

An inclusive dynamic would demand far more than the inclusion of figures from diverse sects in government – a shallow standard that too often appears to satisfy the Obama administration’s definition of the term. 

It would require the formation of an inclusive social contract and covenant, and the creation of an overarching national narrative that would help build and reinforce a new sense of national identity.

Social covenants, forged from negotiations among a country’s major groups, and thus akin to a horizontal society-society compact, define the origins and makeup of political society and help build a common identity.

A common national identity

In Iraq, there was no serious, patient, and inclusive framework for Iraqis to debate and agree on a common national identity, set of values, and sense of purpose for the state.

Instead, after the fall of Saddam Hussein in 2003, the US-led Coalition Provisional Authority’s (CPA) early focus was on the need to quickly draft a constitution.

The CPA failed to understand that after decades of dictatorship and conflict, Iraqis needed time to redefine the society-society relationship before trying to establish the rules for the social contract, namely the state-society relationship. 

Moreover, only six months were allocated to draft Iraq’s new constitution. By comparison, it took South Africa seven years to draft its post-transition constitution, Nepal is nearing a full decade of negotiating its new constitution.

Even worse than the pace was the politics of participation in the Iraqi constitution-making process. US officials, Kurdish political parties, some Shia Islamists, and Iraqi expatriates played the leading roles – excluding the country’s other major groups. 

An inclusive process must also seek to generate an overarching national narrative capable of expressing in simple terms how the society understands its collective identity, its past and its future.

Iraq has long suffered from competing national narratives that preclude the emergence of an overarching, shared sense of identity.

Black and white 

These competing narratives are often framed in Manichean terms: Kurds and Shia Muslims as the victims of the pre-2003 Sunni hegemony, Sunnis as the victims of the post-2003 Kurdish and Shia dominance, and so on. 

In reality, the story of Iraq has never been so black and white.

Of course, some may say it is already too late for Iraq to engage in a process like this, as far too much violence has occurred. Divisions and distrust appear to be deeper than ever.

Yet, unless and until there is an overwhelming national and international determination that Iraq is no longer viable as a state, there must continue to be efforts to make the existing state work better.

As long as the country remains a single territorial unit, its social and political leaders would do better to focus more of their efforts on creating an inclusive dynamic that increases a minimum level of social cohesion and state legitimacy, rather than just trying to reform the widely viewed corrupt and inequitable status quo.

In the best-case scenario, creating an inclusive dynamic in Iraq would take years or decades. However, the country does not have better options.

As long as the majority of Iraqis do not feel that they have an equal stake in the state, quick-fix solutions and reforms will not lift the country out of the perpetual state of crisis that it has endured for more than a decade.

Mark Freeman and Seth Kaplan are the authors of the Inclusive Transitions Framework, a new practical framework that focuses on inclusiveness as a guiding principle to improve transition outcomes in fragile and conflict-affected societies.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial policy.

Read on Al Jazeera.

Share this article

Based on two years of research, interviews, and expert workshops, this IFIT publication outlines a new conceptual and operational framework aimed at improving outcomes in fragile and conflict-affected states transitioning out of conflict or repression by zeroing in on inclusiveness as a guiding principle.

The DOI registration ID for this publication is: https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.10808147

Share this publication

Following the January 2011 revolt in Tunisia against the regime of President Ben Ali, the country’s transition leaders adopted an open-door approach to foreign aid. An avalanche of mostly uncoordinated aid followed. Donors – private and bilateral – arrived asking questions like, ‘Who is your Mandela?’ They produced an event overload, sponsoring dozens of conferences and hotel-room trainings on identical topics. Funding opportunities and partnerships were concentrated in the capital, Tunis, and in few other parts of the country. Grant applications were often English-only. Talent was drained from local organizations to produce repetitive mappings of civil society for external donors who rarely shared them.

Within a short time, the exhilaration over international support became a source of confusion and then frustration for many Tunisians.

Regrettably, stories like this have repeated themselves all too often in the early years of transitions out of armed conflict or authoritarian rule – despite the fact that private philanthropy has engaged in transitions around the world for over 40 years. Only recently has the sector become serious about a collaborative process of self-reflection and sharing of the lessons learned.

In late 2014, most agree that the harvest after four years of Arab transitions has been disappointing. Conflict, sectarianism and economic struggle have replaced the collective euphoria of early months when opportunities for positive change seemed unlimited. Cross-border philanthropy cannot be blamed for all of these setbacks. Yet, as the world reflects on mistakes made on many sides, there are success stories that also deserve closer attention. In every transition private donors emerge who do things smartly – coordinate more, adapt better, venture further, stay longer. These philanthropists prove that there is nothing inevitable about failure in the rebuilding phase after civil conflict or repression.

Genesis of this special feature

In November 2013, the Institute for Integrated Transitions and the Gerhart Center at American University in Cairo published Supporting Countries in Transition: A framework guide to foundation engagement. In a series of roundtable discussions with international foundation leaders to prepare the guide, some consensus was reached on guidelines for effective grantmaking and other forms of social investing in transition environments. Inevitably, though, some issues remained unresolved. How should we define and measure ‘success’ when it comes to transitions? What is the optimal mix of international versus local donor support? How can the new philanthropic landscape be better leveraged to support emerging actors on the frontlines of change when their societies enter promising but risky periods of transition?

To explore these and other questions, Alliance magazine invited the authors to organize this special feature. As guest editors along with the Ford Foundation’s Hilary Pennington, we were privileged to be able to commission articles, conduct interviews and engage with some of the leading voices in the field. All of these contributors believe that private philanthropy has a crucial role to play in successful transitions. At the same time, they point to important ways in which philanthropy could do better.

Several articles focus on the Arab region and its troubled transitions. They review why the experiences from other regions have provided limited guidance and reflect on the fragility of civil society groups after 40 years of repression. Finding and investing in young talent is a recurring theme, as is the need for raised appetites for risk. And the report on a summer 2014 expert roundtable convened in New York confirms the importance of using the opportunity of transition to foster inclusive political dialogue and nation-building.

Other interviews take a close look at the journey the Open Society Foundations and the Berghof Foundation have taken in their work with particularly difficult transition settings. A couple of the pieces in this issue also point to ways that transitions are changing in the 21st century – subject to closer media scrutiny, more threatened by identity politics and the closing of public space, but also benefiting from a younger generation that utilizes technology and networks to build creative social change movements. Key lessons from the experiences of past and present transitions in places like South Africa, Sierra Leone, Northern Ireland and Colombia are examined, as are new ideas and practices that can help inspire donors to bring their best to these turning points of history.

The transition mindset

If you are in philanthropy because you want to change systems and not just practices – and because you want to confront the causes and not merely the symptoms of violence and exclusion – transitions are for you.

Transitions represent those rare moments when the rules of the game are open to reform; when citizens take up the challenge of building a new social contract rather than struggling against a broken one. They are periods in history when change happens swiftly and dramatically. They are, in short, invitations to action for systems-minded philanthropists.

Yet, looking at the map of the world today, one sees many examples of transitions gone wrong. Places where hopes rose when society took to the streets to demand dignity, only to see revolutions hijacked by violent spoiler groups or political infighting. Places where carefully managed national dialogues culminated in renewed conflict rather than peaceful consensus. Places where, decades after a successful break with authoritarianism or mass violence, crude one-party rule has re-emerged. Places where peace dividends never reached those on the margins of the economy and broader society.

At the same time, the risks of failure present in transitions are merely the flipside of the disproportionate opportunities they create for economic, social and political progress. In transitions, risk and reward go hand in hand. As Avila Kilmurray of the Global Fund for Community Foundations writes, ‘Independent philanthropy has been most important when it funded risk-taking initiatives.’

The ABCs of transitions

In a way, we all have clear intuitions and opinions about transitions. There is a vernacular we tend to use. For example, we generally associate ‘success’ with the transitions that took place in countries such as Spain, Northern Ireland, Chile, Brazil, the Czech Republic, South Africa, Ghana, South Korea and Indonesia. Likewise, we tend to associate ‘failure’ with countries such as Somalia, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Iraq and Afghanistan. Even today’s ‘failing’ transitions tend to elicit quick consensus: Egypt, Libya and Yemen, among others.

However, the authors’ view is that labels like this do not hold up well under scrutiny. In every instance of transition, some system change has occurred, and some has failed to occur. A transition is anything but black and white.

The more typical examples of transition are the ones that do not lend themselves to easy characterization – El Salvador, Hungary, Serbia, Uganda, Liberia, the Philippines, Lebanon and Algeria – places where there is a very mixed balance sheet of progress and retreats.

Getting to why

The reasons that some countries do better than others in transitions are varied. One reason centres on starting conditions. All else being equal, a country that enters a transition with a solid middle class is likely to do better in transition than one without (eg Uruguay versus Kosovo); one that has functioning public institutions is likely to do better than one without (eg South Korea versus Tajikistan); one that doesn’t have deep sectarian divisions is likely to do better than one with them (eg Poland versus Nigeria).

Geography and neighbourhoods matter, too. Some countries have better luck than others in terms of the risk of violent spillover caused by problems in countries with which they share borders or other historical ties.

Moreover, there is broad consensus that today’s transitions are embedded in a more volatile global context marked by rising economic disparities, democratic deficits and disruptive technologies which, combined, challenge the tasks of nation states.

Yet, these hard-to-control factors should not eclipse another basic fact. The decisions taken during a transition by political, civic and business leaders – as well as the process for reaching those decisions – are just as important determinants of the direction a transition can take. It is precisely in this arena that philanthropy can play a crucial role in influencing outcomes for the better.

Rules to live by

Transition-focused philanthropy will look different from one place to another: the last kind of philanthropy worth defending in these contexts is one that comes from a pre-set template. At the same time, there are some basic rules of engagement that – if followed with intelligent adaptation – can help increase the chance of positive impact in any country emerging from war or oppressive rule.

Be there early

There are reasons to be apprehensive about involvement in the unpredictable, and sometimes violent, transition taking place in a country one cares about. It can be tempting to say: ‘Let’s wait this out and see how the transition unfolds before we engage our funds.’ The lesson from decades of philanthropic engagement in transitions, however, is that while it’s important to think long term, it is the early interventions that have the greatest possibility of setting a positive course. Local decisions taken in the first months and years of a transition frequently establish the rules, structures and systems that facilitate or constrain political, economic and social advances for years to come. Thus, a small grant to civic leaders to promote their vision for an inclusive constitutional drafting process can leverage national impact that would not have been possible a few months later. As Ariadne’s Jo Andrews  puts it: ‘Timing is everything: the right sum of money (often quite small) given at the right time to the right people is the most powerful social accelerant available on this planet.’

Be adaptive

Transitions are, by definition, periods of change. As the old saying goes: ‘When the music changes, so does the dance.’ Smart philanthropy in transitions adjusts by, for example, making grantmaking terms more open to informal and emergent citizen groups, seeking out new partners, measuring impact with more flexibility, and welcoming failure as an opportunity to learn and do better next time. A transition demands a spirit of trial and error – but one that is based on realism about the fluidity of change, not wishful thinking about guaranteed progress. ‘No matter how exhilarating and inspiring an initial transition moment is, and how wide the apparent consensus for change, outside actors should assume that the transition is precarious,’ warns Thomas Carothers of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace.

Be politically attuned

The work of civil society matters before, during and after a transition. However, when change is the agenda, politics matter as much – or more. If the maximal goal is to support a transformation in power relations, then the minimal obligation must be to get closer to the edge of what is political – without touching the rail. Supporting arts and culture groups that subsequently gave voice to aspirations for political inclusion, for example, had a catalytic effect on Egypt’s 25 January revolution.

Yet even if one sets a much lower overarching goal – for example, seeking merely to ‘do no harm’ – one’s minimal obligation is to understand the politics of the transition. For all fields of grantmaking to succeed – from education reform to healthcare to youth unemployment – an awareness of the political situation and its shifting dynamics is essential. ‘Foundations would considerably increase the impact of their actions if they acknowledge that every aspect of life is coloured by politics,’ writes Arab Reform Initiative founder Bassma Kodmani, ‘and that democratic forces need financial and organizational support if they are to structure serious parties, build constituencies and articulate their agendas.’

Be brave

In a transition, two dynamics are taking place at once: the deconstruction of an old order and the construction of a new one – with all the tensions that such a process naturally implies. The easy path for a grantmaker is to fund conferences, trainings and the like, at which attendance is dominated by people who already agree with each other. That kind of effort has its place. Yet, those who are in it to help achieve systems change need to be willing to take on some of the heavier lifting, which involves building or supporting neutral spaces where ideological opponents can engage in dialogue. In Northern Ireland, supporting the self-organization of the survivors of violence and of recently released political ex-prisoners, both extremely sensitive issues, was risky but critical to the underpinning of the peace process. When such processes succeed, they can create the foundation stone for a transition to advance and deepen; but when they are avoided as being ‘too hard’ or ‘too sensitive’, the precondition for realizing all other ambitions is more likely to be absent.

Be organized

While some donors prefer the safety of the sidelines, others rush into transitions with inadequate information and understanding about the changing local structures they want to engage with. Donor networks have a crucial role to play here. By convening novices and experts alike, and pooling knowledge and contacts, they can help convince boards or reluctant officers that an unfamiliar but alluring country situation is indeed compatible with a foundation’s mission and comparative advantages. Networks can likewise help identify hidden opportunities and joint funding strategies for smaller donors that could enable them to have a bigger impact. The exercise takes time and can appear to slow down decisions and actions. But in reality it speeds up knowledge acquisition and enables everyone to make quicker – and better – choices.

Be multidisciplinary

If transitions are about forging new social contracts among social groups and between citizens and the state, the parameters of engagement need to be broader, not smaller. Donors that typically support established fields through fixed programme categories will find that transitions intensify the connections among all parts of the political and social order and therefore require a far more multidisciplinary lens. Systems change requires a systems perspective: the specialized boxes of grantmaking, which may work perfectly well in more predictable political environments that are conducive to log frames and results matrices, can be an enemy of transformation in contexts of transition. ‘We must be willing to look beyond the usual suspects for those who are connecting the multiple, segregated parts of the system,’ writes Ellen Friedman of the Compton Foundation.

Be different

Smart transition philanthropy doesn’t look the same as a lot of other philanthropy. It is not based on grand strategies set in boardrooms; it is bottom-up and responsive to new facts and fluid changes on the ground. It asks how standard donor procedures need to be modified rather than relied upon as though they were custom-built to suit any situation. Adjusting to the difference of transition contexts also implies allowing for greater flexibility in relations with partners and reaching beyond the usual suspects to support informal, untested actors and projects that appear promising but are anything except ‘sure bets’.

The case is clear

This special issue of Alliance presents a diverse compilation of ideas and experiences about what it means to ‘get philanthropy right’ in transitions out of armed conflict and authoritarian rule. There are no standard answers – and it would be dishonest to suggest otherwise.

Yet, there is one abiding theme in all of this. It has to do with the huge philanthropic opportunity that transitions can offer for changing the rules – precisely in the places where a disruption and reorientation of past dynamics and rules is most needed.

Naturally, the resolution of social, economic and political problems involves a long haul. That is why strengthening local partners and local philanthropy is an especially good bet. Yet a national transition will also offer possibilities for tackling other pivotal problems in a shorter period of time – while helping to put in place the essential building blocks for sustaining improvements well into the future. We hope this issue of Alliance contributes to that.

Even for philanthropists whose work stays closer to home, the experiences reflected in these pages should spark fresh thinking. Far from an isolated occurrence, transitions seem set to become the ‘new normal’ – and, as a sector, we need to be ready for that. As Berghof Foundation chair Johannes Zundel remarks, ‘For philanthropists prepared to take bold risks, transitions offer the chance to be at your best.’

Originally published in Alliance Magazine.

Share this article