From Soldiers to Citizens: Demilitarization of Conflict and Society

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FROM SOLDIERS TO CITIZENS

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From Soldiers to Citizens Demilitarization of Conflict and Society

JOÃO GOMES PORTO University of Bradford, UK CHRIS ALDEN The London School of Economics and Political Science, UK IMOGEN PARSONS The London School of Economics and Political Science, UK

© João Gomes Porto, Chris Alden and Imogen Parsons 2007 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher. João Gomes Porto, Chris Alden and Imogen Parsons have asserted their rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the authors of this work. Published by Ashgate Publishing Limited Gower House Croft Road Aldershot Hampshire GU11 3HR England

Ashgate Publishing Company Suite 420 101 Cherry Street Burlington, VT 05401-4405 USA

Ashgate website: http://www.ashgate.com British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Porto, João Gomes From soldiers to citizens : demilitarization of conflict and society 1. Disarmament 2. Peace-building 3. Disarmament - Angola 4. Peace-building - Angola I. Title II. Alden, Chris III. Parsons, Imogen 303.6'9 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Porto, João Gomes. From soldiers to citizens : demilitarization of conflict and society / by J. Gomes Porto, Chris Alden, and Imogen Parsons. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-7546-7210-4 1. Peace-building. 2. Disarmament. 3. Peace-building--Angola. 4. Disarmament-Angola. I. Alden, Chris. II. Parsons, Imogen. III. Title. JZ5588.P67 2007 303.6'9--dc22 2007027815 ISBN 978-0-7546-7210-4

Printed and bound in Great Britain by MPG Books Ltd, Bodmin, Cornwall.

Contents List of Figures

vii

List of Tables

ix

Notes on Authors

xi

Acknowledgements List of Abbreviations

xiii xv

Introduction

1

1

Demilitarization, DDR and War to Peace Transitions

7

2

Demilitarization in the Angolan Context

33

3

Epicenters of Emergency, State Weakness and Decay: The Local Context

49

UNITA’s Demobilized Soldiers: Economic, Social and Political Dimensions of Reintegration

75

4 5

Reintegration: Variables, Trends, Correlations

109

6

From Soldiers to Citizens: Reconceptualizing Reintegration

137

Appendix 1: Maps

159

Appendix 2: Survey Questionnaire

163

Bibliography

177

Index

185

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List of Figures Figure 2.1 Figure 2.2 Figure 2.3 Figure 3.1 Figure 4.1 Figure 4.2 Figure 4.3 Figure 4.4 Figure 4.5 Figure 4.6 Figure 4.7 Figure 4.8 Figure 4.9 Figure 4.10 Figure 4.11 Figure 4.12 Figure 4.13 Figure 4.14 Figure 4.15 Figure 4.16 Figure 4.17 Figure 4.18 Figure 4.19 Figure 4.20 Figure 4.21 Figure 5.1

Angola – areas open for humanitarian activities, November 2002 Evolution of the quartering process to July 2002 Ex-combatant socio-economic profile (Lusaka Process) Sources of income in Bié by returned and resident populations Composite portrait of a former UNITA combatant (Luena Process) Age of ex-combatants surveyed Previous ties to resettlement locations Marital status of ex-combatants Time spent with UNITA Sources of income Sources of food for returned and resident groups House ownership Access to and ownership of land Principal sources of livelihoods: Urban areas Principal sources of livelihoods: Rural areas Ex-combatants’ own identity perception Organisational membership Social interaction Problem-solving within the community Ex-combatants’ perceptions of authority in the community Community reception of ex-combatants (I) Community reception of ex-combatants (II) Will you vote in the next elections? (Survey by IRI during March/April 2003) In your opinion, voting is…? Ex-combatants and electoral campaigning Right to training/jobs in urban and rural areas

35 38 47 63 75 77 79 80 83 87 88 89 89 90 90 93 94 95 96 97 99 100 103 104 106 113

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List of Tables Table 2.1 Table 3.1 Table 3.2 Table 3.3 Table 3.4 Table 4.1 Table 4.2 Table 4.3 Table 4.4 Table 4.5 Table 4.6 Table 4.7 Table 4.8 Table 4.9 Table 4.10 Table 4.11 Table 4.12 Table 4.13 Table 4.14 Table 4.15 Table 4.16 Table 4.17 Table 4.18 Table 5.1 Table 5.2 Table 5.3 Table 5.4 Table 5.5 Table 5.6 Table 5.7 Table 5.8

Disarmament of UNITA: Weapons handed over as of 22 May 2002 Population return – Huambo Province (May 2003–February 2004) Traditional authorities in Huambo Province Population data for Kuíto and Andulo municipalities Traditional authorities in Huíla Province, 2001 Surveys, focus groups and key informant interviews conducted Gender of ex-combatants surveyed Education levels of ex-combatants Family ties to resettlement locations Rank of former combatants Rank of former combatants (revised) Ex-combatants in possession of demobilisation documentation Ex-combatants who received the demobilisation subsidy Reinsertion support: Provision of demobilisation kits and subsidies in Huíla Province Did you receive any professional training during your time with UNITA? Ex-combatants own perceptions of reintegration Ex-combatants’ perceptions of elections Ex-combatants and the 1992 elections Ex-combatants and the next elections Ex-combatants’ knowledge of political parties (I) Ex-combatants’ knowledge of political parties (II) Participation in electoral events Ex-combatants’ sources of information: Radio Perceptions of reintegration in rural and urban areas Identity by municipality Reception in urban and rural areas Willingness to stand as candidates in rural and urban areas Knowledge of political parties in urban and rural areas Perception of being reintegrated, and receipt of reintegration kit and reintegration subsidy Perception of being reintegrated and house ownership Perception of being reintegrated and main economic activity

39 52 56 67 72 76 77 78 79 82 82 84 85 86 91 92 102 102 103 105 105 106 107 111 112 113 114 114 116 116 117

x

Table 5.9 Table 5.10 Table 5.11 Table 5.12 Table 5.13 Table 5.14 Table 5.15 Table 5.16 Table 5.17 Table 5.18 Table 5.19 Table 5.20 Table 5.21 Table 5.22 Table 5.23 Table 5.24 Table 5.25 Table 5.26 Table 5.27 Table 5.28 Table 5.29 Table 5.30

From Soldiers to Citizens

Perceptions of reintegration by land ownership Perceptions of reintegration by land area Perceptions of identity by land access/ownership Reception by the community and land access Community reception and land area Membership of political organisations and land ownership/access Membership of political organisations and land area Membership of political organisations according to land ownership Community reception according to previous inhabitancy Identity perceptions according to previous links to community Community reception according to presence of family Previous links to community and intentions to remain Perception of being reintegrated and principal source of information Views on elections versus information sources available Identity and organisational membership (by municipality) Identity by organisational membership Perceptions of identity by organisational membership Perceptions of reintegration by membership of political organisations (by municipality) Perception of being reintegrated and military rank Perception of reception by the community and military rank Attitude to jobs/training by military rank Expectations at the time of demobilisation and military rank

119 119 120 120 121 121 122 123 124 125 125 127 128 129 130 131 131 132 133 134 135 136

Notes on Authors Dr João Gomes Porto is a lecturer at the Department of Peace Studies, University of Bradford. In his previous capacity as head of the African Security Analysis Program at the Institute for Security Studies (ISS) he managed a multi-disciplinary team of researchers dedicated to the analysis and provision of policy options on conflict situations in Africa. Prior to joining the ISS in 2002, Dr Porto was a sessional lecturer in Conflict Analysis and Resolution at the University of Reading’s Graduate School of European and International Studies, as well as a teaching assistant at the University of Kent at Canterbury. Dr Porto holds a PhD degree in International Conflict Analysis from the University of Kent at Canterbury. Dr Chris Alden is a Senior Lecturer at the London School of Economics and Political Science (LSE). Dr Alden has written extensively on disarmament, demobilization and reintegration (DDR) issues in Southern Africa, especially with respect to Mozambique, and has conducted research consultancies on the topic for GTZ, as well as having received a US Institute for Peace grant and a MacArthur Post-Doctoral Fellowship at Cambridge University. He is also the author of, amongst others, “Lessons from the Reintegration of Demobilised Soldiers in Mozambique,” Security Dialogue, 33: 30, 2002, and “The Issue of the Military: UN Demobilisation, Disarmament and Reintegration in Southern Africa,” International Peacekeeping, 3: 2, 1996. Dr Alden lectured on conflict and Africa at the University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, from 1990 to 2000. Dr Imogen Parsons holds a PhD in International Relations from the London School of Economics. She conducted fieldwork in Angola from 2002–2004 and is the author of a number of articles on post-conflict reconstruction and the reintegration of excombatants in Angola.

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Acknowledgements The inspiration for this volume originated in the authors’ participation in a policy research project titled “From Soldiers to Citizens: A study of the social, economic and political reintegration of UNITA ex-combatants in post-war Angola.” Developed jointly by the Institute for Security Studies (ISS) in Pretoria, the London School of Economics and Political Science (LSE), and the Norwegian Institute for International Affairs (NUPI), the project was made possible by the generous funding of the Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency (SIDA), the Swiss Federal Department of Foreign Affairs, and the Norwegian Institute of International Affairs (NUPI). First and foremost, the authors would like to express their gratitude to the invaluable support these organizations provided – support which allowed for the undertaking of field research in Angola and the convening of several meetings with Angolan and international actors involved in DDR in the country. In addition, to enable and facilitate survey collection in Angola’s central highland provinces of Huíla, Huambo and Bié, the authors established a number of partnerships with Angolan non-governmental organizations (NGOs). These included Development Workshop (DW), CARE Angola, and the Agency for Cooperation and Research in Development (ACORD). The participation of our Angolan partners throughout the project was essential. From active and enthusiastic collaboration in the design of the survey, to critical research and logistical support in situ; from the participation in the project’s interim workshop in Johannesburg in 2004 to a final review of the findings during the authors’ visit to Luanda in July 2005, this research would not have been possible without their support. The authors would especially like to express their gratitude to Allan Cain, Carlos Figueiredo and Moisés Festo of Development Workshop; Guilherme Santos of ACORD and Douglas Steinberg and Felisberto Ngola of CARE Angola. Moreover, the authors would like to express their sincere thanks and appreciation to the various organizations and representatives of Angolan government departments that actively participated in a findings’ review workshop held in Johannesburg during September 2004. These included Dr José António Martins of the Ministry for Assistance and Social Reintegration (MINARS), Brigadier Domingos Costa and Eduardo Martins of the Institute for the Socio-Professional Reintegration of Former Combatants (IRSEM), Lisa Maier of the World Bank, Olaf Handloegten of GTZ Angola, and General Zacarias Mundombe of the Centre for Strategic Studies of Angola (CEEA). The authors would also like to thank Ana Leão of the Institute for Security Studies for her very useful comments and suggestions made during earlier drafts of this work.

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From Soldiers to Citizens

Finally, the authors would like to express their gratitude to Kirstin Howgate and Margaret Younger at Ashgate who provided tireless support (and considerable patience!) during the writing of this volume.

List of Abbreviations ACORD ADRA ADRP AFL CBO CEEA CNDD–FDD DDR DFID DPKO DW EU FAA FAEM FARDC FAS FDES FMU FNL FNLA GTZ IDDRS IDP ILO INEFOP IRSEM JMC MDRP MINARS MPLA MSF NRA OCHA PAR PIP

Agency for Cooperation and Research in Development Agency for Rural Development and the Environment Angola Demobilization and Reintegration Program Armed Forces of Liberia Community Based Organization Center for Strategic Studies of Angola Conseil National pour la Défense de la Démocratie – Forces pour la Défense de la Démocratie (Burundi) Demobilization, Disarmament and Reintegration Department for International Development (UK) Department of Peace-Keeping Operations (UN) Development Workshop European Union Angolan Armed Forces National Entrepreneur Support Fund Forces Armées de la République du Congo (DRC) Social Support Fund Economic and Social Support Fund UNITA’s Military Forces Forces Nationales de Libération (Burundi) National Front for the Liberation of Angola Deutsche Gesellschaft fur Technische Zusammenarbeit Integrated Demobilization Disarmament and Reintegration Standards (UN) Internally Displaced Person International Labour Organization National Institute for Employment and Training of Angola Institute for the Socio-professional Reintegration of Former Combatants Joint Military Commission Multi-country Demobilization and Reintegration Programme Ministry for Assistance and Social Reintegration Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola Médicins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders) National Resistance Army (Uganda) Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (UN) Rehabilitation Support Program Public Investment Program

xvi

PRSP SSR UNHCR UNITA UNDAF WB

From Soldiers to Citizens

Poverty Reduction Strategy Paper Security Sector Reform United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees National Union for the Total Independence of Angola United Nations Development Assistance Framework World Bank

Introduction Demilitarization of conflict and society is crucial to building sustainable peace in countries emerging from the scourge of civil war. As longstanding conflicts come to an end, processes which facilitate the potentially volatile transition from formal peace to social peace are critically important. At the heart of the exercise is the necessity of transforming the culture and the instruments of war – demilitarization – including disarming, demobilizing and reintegrating former combatants into society as well as ridding the wider society of arms. While the process of societal demilitarization must stem from a commitment by all to an end to using violent means in the resolution of disputes, if it is to lead to sustainable peace, a deeper commitment at a socio-political level amongst those individuals (perpetrators of conflict) and communities (victims but also supporters of conflict) to move beyond the identities and emblems which serve to perpetuate violence is essential. The sublimation of the instinctive resort to arms when conflict rears its head, and its substitution with the “cut and thrust” of non-violent dispute resolution (including, of course, parliamentary debate and judicial appeals), is the key indicator that a democratic peace has been achieved. Genuine demilitarization is only possible when all constituent elements of society are able to function fully as citizens. The emergence of a new social contract in post-war societies is a vital step towards re-legitimizing (in many instances, creating) the institutions and culture of good governance, of which democratic elections – and perhaps more importantly, democratic consolidation – are a critical threshold. This new social contract includes the former combatant in a very specific way – as disarmament itself should be seen in the light of a social contract between the former combatant, the government and the international community overseeing the process (Knight and Ozerdem 2004, 506). The increasing realization that controlled processes of disarmament, demobilization and reintegration (DDR) are core to demilitarization and therefore sustainable peace in war-torn societies has had a number of consequences. First and foremost it has led to the proliferation of DDR programs worldwide. Secondly, it has resulted in the introduction of new actors in the field, tasked with the design and implementation of these programs. In addition to United Nations’ (UN) peacekeeping operations and bilateral military assistance provided by third countries in support of DDR and Security Sector Reform (SSR) processes, international development and donor agencies have become increasingly important actors in DDR programs, in particular the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), the World Bank (WB) as well as a myriad of NGOs and community based organizations (CBOs). Thirdly, it has prompted a series of initiatives at an international level designed to deepen our understanding, development and implementation of these processes.

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From Soldiers to Citizens

The experiences of controlled DDR in the past two decades, have demonstrated that these processes should be regarded in a long-term, developmental framework. This is particularly the case with programs for the reintegration of former combatants into society, “no longer merely seen as a humanitarian issue but … recognised as a vital element of conflict prevention and a critical precondition of any security sector reform” (GTZ 2001). Yet, resources of the international community given over to the study of DDR – and in particular reintegration – have largely focused on shortterm concerns of policy makers, more often than not bound by tight timeframes and primarily focused on immediate post-war security and stabilization priorities. In addition, a cursory review of the academic and policy-oriented literature on DDR reveals that there is a pressing need for the development of methodologies that allow for a comprehensive and participatory assessment of reintegration processes (from the perspective of individuals and communities in post-conflict societies). In this sense, although DDR programs have been given their correct place as critical components of peace-building – either because of the risk that former combatants are perceived to pose if not adequately demobilized or reintegrated (as will be discussed below, in itself an assumption that requires further research, both context-specific and of a comparative nature) or as a result of a perceived “peace” dividend that may ensue from the downsizing of armed forces – the content of substantive reintegration, from the point of the target group remains fundamentally unexamined. Key conceptual issues such as the nature of “reintegration” and its relationship to citizenship in post-conflict societies are not properly understood or accounted for in the design and development of reintegration programs. This is not to say that a blueprint for DDR processes, to be applied indiscriminately to different situations and different types of beneficiaries (for example, regular forces, paramilitary forces, militias, child combatants) should be aimed at. In this regard, we take GTZ’s point that while “good preparation and coordination can prevent mistakes and provide timely clarity about the assistance required,” “experience shows that blueprints do not exist, and that demobilisation and reintegration support is at best dealt with within the broader rehabilitation and development support” (GTZ 2001, 7). Yet, understanding the last step of a DDR process, that of the socio-economic and political reintegration of former combatants into society – by nature a long-term process which must be linked to broader recovery efforts and development strategies – is critical. In war to peace transitions, the reintegration of former combatants presents challenges of a very specific nature. While social acceptance, reconciliation and economic activity constitute the foundations of sustainable reintegration, these factors must be accompanied by some form of political participation for reintegration to be considered complete. At a time when the reintegration of former combatants in Angola was in its infancy and several DDR programs were being developed and implemented in a number of sub-Saharan African countries (Burundi, DRC, Ivory Coast, Sudan), a research project addressing the practical as well as conceptual complexities of reintegration processes in war to peace transitions was timely. In order to achieve a deeper and more nuanced understanding of the reintegration process, the authors decided to focus on former UNITA combatants in post-war Angola and develop a

Introduction

3

statistically informed analysis of the transformation of soldiers into civilians in that war to peace transition. The following questions guided their research: •

Which factors facilitate reintegration? And which ones impede it? The role and type of intervention strategies that support reintegration of excombatants remain highly contested in both policy-circles and academia.

•

In the absence of targeted support for reintegration, will ex-soldiers successfully reintegrate into communities? Is their experience of reintegration significantly different from internally displaced persons (IDPs)? The imperative of providing targeted programs to address the particular needs of ex-combatants is the rationale behind reintegration programs. And yet, some would suggest that targeting actually inhibits reintegration back into society and that the appropriate approach would be to treat ex-combatants no differently from any other vulnerable group. Given that successful reintegration is predicated on the positive transformation of modalities of behavior and, more importantly, identities formed under conditions of conflict, could special treatment aimed at ex-combatants actually inhibit or delay reintegration?

•

What then is the relationship between identity and reintegration? To what extent are self-perceptions and communities’ perceptions involved in determining positive outcomes? If the transformation of identities formed under conditions of conflict is a key determinant of successful reintegration, the nature of the process is itself not especially studied. The importance of identity and its relationship to citizenship, the latter being seen by some as an end point of the reintegration process, needs to be examined.

•

What does or should reintegration mean in the context of weak or non-existent state structures? An essential feature of many (if not most) post-conflict situations in Africa – but one which seems to have been consistently neglected – is that reintegration takes place within the conditions of weak, enervated or even collapsed states. This begs the question of how one can speak of “reintegration” back into a fragmented society, shattered economy and often contested political authority.

To answer these questions, a situation-specific survey methodology was developed, including a time-series quantitative and qualitative study. Samples were used both as regards the target group (UNITA combatants demobilized following the Luena Memorandum of Understanding of April 2002) as well as geographical area (focusing solely on three of Angola’s provinces, Huambo, Huíla and Bié). The choice of these three central plateau provinces was a function of several factors, to be discussed at length in Chapters 2 and 3 below. At this point it suffices to say that all three (but particularly Bié and Huambo) were key areas of recruitment during the war and that a significant number of former combatants were demobilized and resettled there. In-depth surveys, focus group discussions and key informant interviews were conducted to assess the levels of (i) social reintegration; (ii)

4

From Soldiers to Citizens

economic activity; (iii) and political engagement. These methods were deployed over a six month period and involved data collection in two target districts in each province, one urban and one rural. This volume is organized into six chapters. Chapter 1, titled Demilitarization, DDR and War to Peace Transitions introduces the reader to the topic of demilitarization in war to peace transitions by providing a comprehensive reflection on existing literature on DDR – both of an academic as well as policy orientation. This chapter uncovers and discusses a number of critical gaps in the literature, focusing on the reintegration of former combatants. Conflicting approaches and time frames, the imperative of understanding and operationalizing context (social, economic, political) within which DDR programs are implemented, and the roles played and relationships formed between ex-combatants, communities and other vulnerable groups in war to peace transitions are discussed. Chapter 2, Demilitarization in the Angolan Context provides the reader with an introduction to the post-war situation in Angola, focusing on the unprecedented humanitarian crisis that ensued as the war came to an end in the first quarter of 2002. In addition, this chapter discusses the 2002–2003 DDR process and reflects on Angola’s previous experiences at DDR in 1991–1992 during the Bicesse Peace Process and between 1994 and 1997 during the Lusaka Peace Process. Chapter 3, Epicentres of Emergency, State Weakness and Decay: The Local Context, describes at length the three provinces selected for data collection (Huambo, Bié and Huíla) in Angola’s central highlands. Chosen by a substantial proportion of former combatants as their sites of resettlement, these three provinces were epicentres of emergency, state weakness and decay. Chapter 4, UNITA’s Demobilized Soldiers: Economic, Social and Political Dimensions of Reintegration, introduces UNITA former combatants through a preliminary exploration of the quantitative data gathered. To achieve this, the authors developed a “composite portrait” of the former combatant – a portrait based on the results of 603 survey interviews, 26 focus group discussions and 16 key informant interviews. This portrait includes data on age, gender and literacy levels; marital status and household structure; chosen resettlement locations; rank and length of military service and data related to the demobilization process. In this chapter the authors cluster the data around the economic, social and political dimensions of reintegration. Original data on economic dimensions include “household structure and economic security” (including sources of income, house ownership and access to or ownership of land), “economic activities” and “previous occupation and training”, among others. Social dimensions of reintegration, focusing on identity and social capital variables, include “own perspectives on reintegration”, “social networks and community participation”, “interpersonal links and support networks”, and “perceptions of authority”. Finally, political dimensions of reintegration include “elections and voting”, “knowledge of political parties”, “electoral and party activism”, and so on. In order to answer some of the more specific questions posed at the outset of this research, in particular the questions relating to the factors that may facilitate or hinder the reintegration experience, Chapter 5 is dedicated to correlation of data through the use of SPSS. Titled Reintegration: Variables, Trends, Correlations,

Introduction

5

this chapter further interrogates the data to survey for main variables and trends which affect and are affected by reintegration. The correlations include surveying for an urban/rural divide; economic standing, livelihoods and expectations; land ownership/access; social networks and military rank. The preliminary conclusions in this chapter will pave the way to the reflections contained in Chapter 6, the final chapter of this volume. Chapter 6, titled From Soldiers to Citizens: Reconceptualizing Reintegration concludes this volume by proposing a reconceptualization of “reintegration” along the lines of a series of issue clusters. In this chapter, the authors rethink reintegration of former combatants around four aspects of the reintegration process which emerged from the literature review developed in the initial chapter and the analysis of the quantitative and qualitative data gathered in Angola. These four issue clusters are: (i) Focusing on the Long Term: From Reinsertion to Reintegration; (ii) Reintegration and Vulnerability in War to Peace Transitions; (iii) Targeting the Community: Reintegration and Social Capital; and, finally, (iv) Reintegration and Political Participation. The reflection contained in this chapter is contrasted with approaches and assumptions contained in the academic and policy literature as the authors distill their main findings with a view to informing the development of policy and practice.

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Chapter 1

Demilitarization, DDR and War to Peace Transitions Introduction Armed conflict destroys the social fabric of a country. It disrupts community networks and traditions, creates and reinforces inequalities, destroys human capacities and social capital, damages infrastructure, increases the transmission of disease (especially HIV/ AIDS), and kills and displaces large numbers of people (UNDPKO 2006).1 DDR programs constitute a vital link between military and civilian aspects of peace operations. The success of such programs is essential for sustainable peace and development (Douglas et al 2004).

Demobilization, disarmament and reintegration (DDR) programs have, in the last two decades, warranted significant attention from academics and policy makers. This has been largely a function of the rise in the sheer number of DDR programs worldwide as well as an expanded and more sustained involvement of the international community – and in particular the United Nations (UN) – in these types of activities. By the end of the 1990s the United Nations had supported the implementation (with varying degrees of success) of DDR programs in situations as diverse as Namibia, Cambodia, Angola, Somalia, Mozambique, Guatemala, Eastern Slavonia, Baranja and Western Sirmium, Liberia, and Sierra Leone.2 As of 2007, DDR was part of several UN peacekeeping operations including those in Burundi, the Ivory Coast, the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Haiti, Liberia, and Sudan. In these “complex” and “multidimensional” operations, DDR programs are regarded as core – in tandem with humanitarian assistance, security sector reform, democratization, human rights and rule of law programs. Although the proliferation in the number of DDR programs and the experience gained in their implementation would seem to indicate that they are well understood, a careful review of policy and practice reveals several important gaps. As of late, a series of initiatives have been developed in an effort to deepen the international community’s understanding, design and implementation of these programs. The efforts of the Stockholm Initiative on DDR towards “creating a political framework for sustained discussion” involving a wide variety of different actors, or the creation of an United Nations (UN) “Inter-Agency Working Group on DDR” have

1 See UNDPKO 2006, section 2.20 on Post-conflict Stabilisation, Peacebuilding and Recovery Frameworks. 2 In this regard see UNDPKO 1999, 1.

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From Soldiers to Citizens

merited considerable attention.3 The publication of the “Integrated Demobilization Disarmament and Reintegration Standards” (IDDRS) in August 2006 by the United Nations Department of Peacekeeping Operations (UNDPKO) in an attempt to create the “substantive basis on which Member States engage with and support DDR programs” by codifying “the experiences of the UN system over the years” is also evidence of these efforts (UN DPKO 2006).4 If any doubts still linger as to the centrality of DDR programs in the international community’s efforts at peacekeeping, conflict resolution and peacebuilding, the Report of the High-Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change (2004) considered that “demobilising combatants is the single most important factor determining the success of peace operations. Without demobilisation, civil wars cannot be brought to an end and other critical goals – such as democratisation, justice and development – have little chance for success.”5 Kofi Annan’s 2006 preface to the IDDRS was an attempt to clarify, at the very least, the UN position in this regard. In his words, “the disarmament, demobilisation and reintegration (DDR) of former combatants and those associated with armed groups is a prerequisite for post-conflict stability and recovery” (our emphasis).6 Moreover, and at an international level, a division of labor of sorts has arisen – with different organizations focusing on different types of assistance and phases of DDR programs, as will be discussed below.7 The background to these initiatives and, in particular, the development of integrated standards for the UN as a whole, provide a number of clues as to the challenges – some practical, some conceptual – posed by DDR programs. Underlying the development of integrated standards were, first and foremost, concerns of a practical nature focusing on addressing the fragmentation in approaches of different agencies, the reactive nature of interventions, the need to clearly define the role of UN headquarters and, last but not least, funding and resource mobilization issues.8 3 The United Nations’ Inter-Agency Working Group on DDR was formed by the Executive Committee on Peace and Security in March 2005 with the specific mandate of improving the UN’s performance in DDR. 4 See UNDPKO 2006, section 1.10 on Introduction to Integrated DDR Standards. 5 Report of the High-Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change (2004) as cited in UNDP 2005, 9. 6 Kofi Annan, foreword to the IDDRS. The UN’s former Secretary-General echoed the concerns of numerous practitioners and academics on the importance of DDR programs as critical components of peacebuilding processes. See inter alia, Mats Berdal 1996; Nat Colletta et al 1996, (A); UNDPKO 1999; Kees Kingma 2002. 7 As noted by Knight and Ozerdem, “UN peacekeeping operations are often mandated to undertake, or oversee, disarmament of belligerent factions. Hence the UN perspective is focused upon the initial phases of DDR programmes, namely disarmament. The World Bank’s perspective is coloured by the organisations’ involvement in the latter phases of DDR programmes, demobilisation and reintegration. However, the DDR experiences of a number other international organisations such as the International Organisation for Migration (IOM), the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) and the International Labour Office (ILO) will also inform discussions” (Knight and Ozerdem 2004, 500). 8 The need to be “people-centred,” “flexible,” “accountable” and “transparent”; to assure and strengthen “national ownership,” “integration,” and so on, have also been identified as cardinal principles in the engagement by the UN and its system organizations on DDR programs.

Demilitarization, DDR and War to Peace Transitions

9

Yet, these developments are also evidence of a shift in the importance apportioned to, and understanding of, DDR programs – now in par with other, perhaps more conventionally accepted humanitarian and development assistance tasks. The fact that UN programs such as the United Nations Development Program (UNDP) have become key actors in the area of DDR is a testament to this shift – since 1991, the UNDP has supported DDR in both peacekeeping and non-peacekeeping contexts in more than 18 countries. In fact, in situations where there are no peacekeeping operations, the UNDP’s Humanitarian Coordinator or Resident Coordinator takes responsibility for overall DDR coordination within the UN system.9 While the gradual realization that effective and sustainable DDR requires a long term, developmental, multi-actor and multi-dimensional approach is a very positive development, it poses a number of critical questions.10 Some of these may have been prompted by the perception, still retained in some circles, that development assistance actors should not be involved in processes which are eminently military and security related.11 For some time security issues were not considered a natural milieu for the development practitioner – and within these, as will be discussed in the pages below, DDR was largely perceived as being confined to the military and security components of UN peacekeeping operations, limited in time to the short and medium term and the terrain of the military. To be sure, although military and security issues seemed far removed from the processes of development policy-making and practice up to the early 1990s, the reality was that a significant number of issues perceived to be squarely positioned within the security and military fields inevitably overlapped, influenced and often determined the success of development interventions – therefore requiring adequate responses from development actors. Programs in support of defence transformation; processes of democratization following military regimes; of good governance with specific military and security sector components; UN peacekeeping missions; disarmament, demobilization and reintegration of ex-combatants; de-mining – all these have and still require appropriate responses from development practitioners. In fact, an increasingly common view seems to have developed in international debates on the relationship between security and development: that rather than “security

9 The support by the UNDP to DDR programs in peacekeeping contexts included Afghanistan, Angola, Ivory Coast, Democratic Republic of Congo, El Salvador, Haiti, Liberia, Mozambique, Sierra Leone, and Sudan; in non-peacekeeping contexts it included the Central African Republic, Comoros Islands, Indonesia, Niger, Republic of Congo, Somalia, Solomon Islands, and Uganda. It is telling that in self-evaluating its strengths in the implementation of DDR programs, the UNDP notes its experience, impartiality, pivotal coordination role, ability to contextualize DDR within the context of the program’s other local and national recovery and development strategies and commitment to capacity development (UNDP 2005, 9). 10 See, for example, OECD/DCD-DAC 1998; UNDPKO 1999; UNSG 2000; UN 2000. 11 After all, only a decade ago Colletta et al noted that “reform of national military and security establishments, whether post-conflict and in peace-time, is not within the purview of the multilateral institutions, nor do these institutions have a comparative advantage in these areas” (Colletta et al 1996, (A)).

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From Soldiers to Citizens

first,” what is required – if sustainable development is the ultimate goal – is the integration of security problems into development cooperation.12 Practical evidence of this integration as regards DDR can partly be assessed by the number and type of organizations involved in these processes within and outside the UN system.13 Organizations such as the International Labour Organization (ILO), the World Bank (WB), the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR); the European Union (EU) and a number of bilateral development and technical cooperation agencies such as Germany’s Deutsche Gesellschaft fur Technische Zusammenarbeit (GTZ) and the United Kingdom’s Department for International Development (DFID) have become key actors in the development of policy and implementation of DDR programs. Yet, issues of perception and inter-disciplinarity notwithstanding, a number of critical questions stemming from current DDR thinking and practice require attention – particularly the underdevelopment of key DDR concepts. This chapter aims at exploring some of these gaps by providing an overview of DDR policy and practice and distilling from the existing academic literature some of the most important contributions of the last two decades. Demilitarization A starting point to discussing DDR processes is to recognize, following Knight and Ozerdem (as well as Colletta et al) that they can take place in two very different contexts: on the one hand, that of demilitarization as part of peacetime restructuring of armed and other security forces and, on the other hand, programs which are the result of negotiated agreements and are executed during war-to-peace transitions – commonly known by the acronym DDR.14 Recognizing the specificities of these different contexts (as well as commonalities) is critical as they imprint substantial differences to the processes involved.15

12 In this regard, GTZ notes that “the nineties were not, however, the first period during which development theoreticians and practitioners had turned their attention to these themes. Back in the sixties – partially brought about by a large number of military coups d’état in Latin America, Africa and Asia – the development community was interested in helping identify an appropriate role for the military, the input of resources for the military sector and related themes” (GTZ 2002, 10–13). 13 See GTZ 2001. A number of relevant policy documents has informed this gradual shift, inter alia: UNSG 1998, OECD/DCD-DAC 1998, UNDPKO 1999, and UNSG 2000. 14 Knight and Ozerdem 2004, 500. We should note that, in common with Colletta et al 1996 (A), these authors include situations “following a decisive victory” as part of the first context (that of demilitarization in peacetime). Our understanding is that the authors are referring to military victories in inter-state wars as experienced in Europe following the First and Second World Wars. Nevertheless, because the end of war in Angola (our chosen casestudy) was reached through military victory, we will return to this issue in the pages to follow. 15 As will be further elaborated below, this work is primarily focused on war-to-peace transitions – complex processes marked by, inter alia, “the need to stabilize the economy, demilitarize the country (demobilization and de-mining being paramount), reintegrate

Demilitarization, DDR and War to Peace Transitions

11

Demilitarization is, of course, not an entirely new concept, with heated debates around the nature of militarism taking place in nineteenth-century Europe (Lamb 1997). Demilitarization processes have been applied extensively in the aftermath of inter-state wars as winners attempt to reduce the likelihood of a resumption of hostilities from the part of the defeated – efforts which have included disbanding armies or substantially reducing their numbers, controlling and destroying weapons, and even establishing demilitarized zones.16 During peacetime, demilitarization processes have had both an economic rationale (reduction in military expenditure and budgetary reallocations to other areas) and a technical objective (improving the quality and efficiency of armed forces). In a number of OECD countries for example, these processes have been well funded and coordinated with opportunities for employment and other reintegration support activities given to those that leave the armed forces (GTZ 2001). The advent of the Cold War led to an increased interest in demilitarization. Academics, whether in Peace Studies or International Relations, adopted a more nuanced and critical stance, incorporating concerns around the socio-economic as well as cultural impacts of militarization on societies. An enlarged concept of demilitarization ensued, one that included “apart from a reduction in the military potential of states, a decrease in the role military institutions played in both national and international affairs” (Lamb 1997, 3).17 In the developing world, the challenges of state and nation building during the 1960s and 1970s prompted political modernization theorists, from Lucien Pye to Gabriel Almond, to the early works of Samuel Huntington, to reflect on militarism, in particular the role of the military and security forces in both modernization and state building. If, as modernization theories professed, the solution to the problems of the post-colonial world required a process of emulation (with the implication that the focus should be on the transfer to those societies of western type institutions: political systems, modern, weberian bureaucracies, popularly elected bodies, political parties, western education and legal systems), what prescriptions were put forward as regards the military? Huntington’s view as the 1960s drew to a close was clear: before socio-economic development can take place, the state apparatus and the political process must be thoroughly institutionalized – with special attention to the role of law and order and especially the military.18 Support to military dictatorships by both East and West – financial assistance, military training and supply of weapons dislocated populations, protect the most vulnerable war victims (children, disabled, and widows), and re-establish civil society and good governance” (Colletta et al 1996, (B)). 16 Whether to “provide sanctuary during time of armed conflict for persons who are entitled to be immune from direct attack,” “to facilitate the negotiation and/or the supervision of the cessation of hostilities,” “for areas subject to contending claims regarding sovereignty” or simply to “reduce tension along demarcation lines,” the establishment of demilitarized zones has gradually become a critical component of demilitarization. In this regard see Bailey 1982, 230–50. 17 More nuanced approaches to the role of institutions, norms and values which underlie militarism in society, have benefited from the application of critical theory. An excellent example can be found in Jabri 1996. 18 In this regard, see Huntington 1968 and also Ayoob 1995.

12

From Soldiers to Citizens

– was justified on the basis of both ideology (systemic level rivalry) and more prosaically as development assistance. The end of the Cold War had a direct impact on the military support made available by the superpowers to several regimes in sub-Saharan Africa, prompting “many African governments to downsize their militaries and reduce defence expenditures” (Colletta et al 1996 (A), ix). Shortly after the end of the Cold War, Kevin Cleaver would note that “a decade of economic deterioration in many Sub-Saharan countries has, ironically, created a climate in which a growing number of governments, whether emerging from internal conflict or at peace, are exploring ways to reduce their military expenditure to shift scarce resources to redressing persistent poverty and growing inequality. In this changing climate, demobilization and reintegration programs (DRPs) for military downsizing and economic revitalization constitute a vital dimension of the continent’s transition” (Cleaver 1996).19 As a consequence, a number of sub-Saharan African countries have since then taken measures to downsize their militaries and reduce military expenditure – ostensibly as a way to strengthen their ability to tackle underdevelopment, poverty and economic deterioration but more often than not as an attempt to modernize and improve the quality and efficiency of their armed forces. The example of Uganda’s phased demobilization of 36,000 National Resistance Army (NRA) soldiers (of an estimated 90,000) in the early 1990s as been well documented and discussed in both academic and policy circles. With 39.3 percent of total government expenditure spent on defence during the period 1989–1990, Uganda’s partial demilitarization resulted in a substantial decrease in defence expenditure to 26.1 percent by 1994 (Colletta et al 1996 (B)).20 Moreover, some of the socio-economic dimensions of demilitarization have not been forgotten in the literature – particularly as regards the reorientation of resources (human, financial, productive) from military to civilian purposes. The concept of “conversion” has come to denote more than just the transformation of resources and productive capabilities from the military to civilian sectors to include concerns on the socio-economic as well as psychological dimensions of these processes (Lamb 1997, 5). In addition, another cluster of concepts (resulting in a variety of processes and practices) has made its way into the demilitarization vocabulary: that of defence transformation and security sector reform. In a post-Cold War, post 9/11 world that has blurred the contours of the framework within which states traditionally made their defence and security policies, defence transformation is high on the agenda. There is a gradual recognition that, in many countries, the state and its security apparatus are often the main perpetrators of violence against their own people. Equally, there is consensus that the role of military and security forces and associated defence expenditure may have a direct impact on a country’s ability to promote socio-

19 See Colletta et al 1996, (B). 20 On the Ethiopian case, these authors note that “in the three years prior to demobilisation, the Ethiopian government on average spent 46.6 percent of total current government expenditure on defence. In the three years following demobilisation, defence’s share dropped to 16.4 percent.”

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economic development and combat poverty. As noted by the UK’s Department for International Development (DFID), 21

… too often, the military is used to sustain governments in power and is inappropriately involved in internal security. Police forces are often under funded and unable to guarantee security thus giving rise to coercion and corruption (…) Effective management, transparency and accountability of the security sector is just as necessary as with any other part of the public sector. Resources need to be managed efficiently to allow the provision of security that does not threaten democracy or human rights, or undermine other development goals (DFID 2002, 7).

Concerns about the role and functioning of the “security sector” – during peacetime but also critically during war to peace transitions – have underlined the recent development of “security sector reform” policy and practice. In this regard the Development Co-operation Directorate of the Organization for Co-operation and Development (OECD/DCD-DAC) has suggested an expanded notion of security sector reform which it termed “security systems reform.” Recognizing the critical importance of legitimate and accountable security systems the DAC considers these processes to encompass: … promoting transparency, the rule of law, accountability and informed debate, and reinforcing legislative capacity for adequate oversight of security systems. Security reform involves a range of actors from the military and the police, to judicial and penal systems, ministries of foreign affairs, trade, commerce and civil society organisations (OECD/DCD-DAC 2005).22

In reviewing the international debate on security sector reform in developing countries, GTZ considers that security sector reform should be regarded, essentially, as a component of governance reform programs and have at its core a concern with poverty alleviation. Security sector reform must include the armed forces, paramilitary units, police and gendarmerie, intelligence services but also the civil authorities mandated to control and oversee these agencies as well as the judicial and penal systems and civil society in general. Moreover, rather than simply measuring the success of security sector reform processes by looking at greater efficiency, professionalism and increased combat strength, security sector reform as measured from a development policy perspective should be based on optimizing the “structure and capabilities of actors in the security sector for social, economic and political development” (GTZ 2002, 15). In conclusion, and with a few exceptions, mainstream discussions of demilitarization have been confined to the more technical aspects of restructuring armed and security forces (and as will be seen below, DDR) rather than more critical reflections and counter narratives on the reasons for and purposes of a structurally legitimized use of coercion and violence in our societies. Geoff Harris encapsulates the dual dimensions of demilitarization by saying that,

21 See, inter alia, Ball 2001; Cooper and Pugh 2002 and GTZ 2000. 22 See also OECD/DCD-DAC 2001 and Ball and Van de Goor 2006.

14

From Soldiers to Citizens Demilitarisation, then, first means a significant and sustained reduction in the power and influence of the military indicated by reductions in military expenditure, military personnel and force projection (…) Second, demilitarisation is a process of working towards a society which emphasizes the non-violent resolution of conflicts and personal and social justice (Harris 2004, 3).23 (Our emphasis)

DDR in War to Peace Transitions As far as experiences in sub-Saharan Africa are concerned, differentiating between demilitarization during times of peace and during war-to-peace transitions seems, to a large extent, appropriate – similarities in political and socio-economic contexts notwithstanding. Nevertheless, we should begin by noting that such a differentiation should not preclude the acknowledgment that at some point during war-to-peace transitions, security, defence and justice sector reform efforts are normally undertaken. In fact, peace processes often include negotiations on security sector restructuring – the creation of unified national armies following civil wars being paramount among these (as in the cases of Angola, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, Burundi). At times, as in the case of the current transition in the DRC, security sector reform (in particular the creation of a unified Congolese army, the Forces Armées de la République du Congo or FARDC) is intimately related to DDR efforts in the country (AI 2007).24 Yet, war to peace transitions present specific challenges and issues. In war-topeace transitions, there is often no clear victor on the battlefield and, as a consequence, DDR programs tend to be reached through negotiated compromise as part of peace agreements – involving incumbent governments and non-state armed groups, as well as third parties acting as mediators. As highlighted by Ann Fitz-Gerald, In these cases [societies transitioning from devastating conflict and others which border, or meet, collapsed state status] the holistic concept of “DDR” takes on a much greater meaning. Countries patrolled by rebel groups and non-state actors face significant challenges in developing the necessary state security structures to sustain the country’s national development agenda (Fitz-Gerald 2005, 5).

In these contexts, DDR programs are more politicized, fragile and uncertain – and remobilization a constant possibility. This fundamental difference is noted by

23 Harris notes that militarized societies are those where (1) the military controls or strong influences government policies and actions; (2) there is a strong military ethos and military ideals are dominant; (3) security is viewed as fundamentally a military matter and military imperatives dominate the security agenda and (4) the use of force or the threat to use force is high on the list of possible responses to any disputes which may arize (Harris 2004, 3). 24 As recently noted by Amnesty International, “within the framework of reconstruction in a post-conflict period that is often difficult to manage, DDR and the creation of a new army are two fundamental objectives that are intimately related to each other. While DDR is an essentially civilian project and army reform is a military initiative there is nevertheless a fundamental link between the success of both. This inherent link is recognised in the national documents and operational plans governing the DDR and Army Reform programmes, which set out a ‘tronc commun’, or combined core for the two programmes” (AI 2007).

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Knight and Ozerdem who consider that the outcome of any DDR program depends predominantly upon the political context in which it is carried out because “armed opposition to the government retains territorial control and possesses the ability to engage in war fighting, if the peace agreement breaks down owing to non-compliance” (Knight and Ozerdem 2004, 500). In fact, in many situations – as the cases of Burundi, DRC and Sudan testify – armed groups remain outside peace negotiations for considerable amounts of time, refusing to disarm and constituting by that very fact serious potential spoilers. That in Burundi the CNDD-FDD (arguably the largest and most important belligerent) and the FNL remained outside the framework of the Arusha Peace Process for close to five years is a case in point. Moreover, UN experience has showed that “the quality and calibre of the weapons improves as the disarmament proceeds and mutual trust is gradually being built” as the “best weapons and forces are held in reserve for the last stages of the process, usually as a hedge against a return to conflict” (UNDPKO 1999, 35). In the eastern district of Ituri in the DRC, Amnesty International has found that “most of the leaders of the Ituri armed groups, including the FAPC, FNI, FRPI and UPC, resorted in differing degrees to killing, intimidation and other human rights abuses to prevent their members from joining the programme” (AI 2007). The variety of potentially dividing issues during peace negotiations related to or with a direct bearing on the security sector and in particular DDR is considerable: from ceasefire negotiations to external monitoring; from DDR timeframes to the provision by warring parties of information on their troops and locations25; from negotiations concerning the integration of former enemies in an integrated defence force to political power-sharing and transitional justice – all these issues create the scope for politicization and uncertainty. In addition, and perhaps to an extent not experienced during demilitarization in peacetime contexts, DDR programs in war to peace transitions occur at national, provincial, community, household and individual levels. Lying at the heart of transitions from war to peace, DDR programs become a key instrument for moving beyond violence. As emphasized by Colletta et al, “strong political will and leadership, expressed in terms of commitment, realism, and pragmatism, are crucial factors.” Moreover, “the success of this first step following the signing of a peace accord [DDR] signals the end to organised conflict and provides the security necessary for people affected by war to reinvest in their lives and their country” (Colletta et al 1996 (A), 1–2). The collapse of the Liberian peace process in 1999 stands as an example of the consequences of a “quick and dirty” approach to DDR, the unwillingness of the government to restructure the Armed Forces of Liberia (AFL) according to the Abuja Peace Accord and, finally, its failure to “include leaders of other warring factions in

25 Two examples serve to illustrate this point. During the Mozambican peace process, estimates of RENAMO troops for demobilization pointed to between 11,000 and 13,000 – at the end of the demobilization, a total of 21,000 RENAMO combatants had been demobilized. In Angola during the 2002 Moxico ceasefire negotiations, UNITA had declared its strength as 50,000. At the end of demobilization, almost two years later, more than 100,000 UNITA soldiers had been demobilized.

16

From Soldiers to Citizens

key decision-making positions” (United Nations, Office of the Special Advisor on Africa, 2005). What about war to peace transitions where one side is victorious? To what extent to these present specific challenges and to what extent do these situations share common elements with those that are arrived at through compromise between warring parties? For the purposes of this volume, we have chosen to provide an in-depth reflection on the DDR process that was implemented by the government of Angola following the end of the war in 2002. As will be discussed at length in the chapters to follow, this was a situation characterized by a clear military victory. In a fashion similar to the demobilization of the Derg army in Ethiopia following the victory of the Ethiopian Popular Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF) in 1991, the government of Angola managed the entire DDR process – in this case constituting of approximately 105,000 UNITA former combatants. Approaches to demobilization as a component of DDR programs have been strongly rooted in the experiences of peacetime demilitarization processes referred to above. Demobilization is defined as the formal and controlled discharge of active combatants from armed forces and other armed groups. UNDPKO describes demobilization as follows: Demobilization is the process by which armed forces (government and/or opposition or factional forces) either downsize or completely disband, as part of a broader transformation from war to peace. Typically, demobilization involves the assembly, quartering, disarmament, administration and discharge of former combatants, who may receive some form of compensation and other assistance to encourage their transition to civilian life (UNDPKO 1999, 15).

The challenges involved in gathering and maintaining combatants in assembly areas and the tasks which form part of processing combatants aside, there is a considerable experience at an international level as regards demobilization. Demobilization processes have also provided opportunities for surveying former combatants’ postwar needs and aspirations as well as for counselling and the provision of some level of pre-discharge orientation. Nevertheless, the contexts upon which DDR programs have been implemented in the last two decades have introduced a considerable degree of complexity to these processes prompting a reflection on demobilization processes along the lines suggested by Douglas et al, who note that demobilization should also consist of “the opposite of recruiting (mobilizing) combatants for an armed group” (Douglas et al 2004, 15). Involving the collection, documentation, control and disposal of weapons, ammunition and explosives, disarmament is often regarded as an activity which sequentially follows the assembly of combatants in demobilization centers (usually termed quartering or gathering areas). Disarmament is central to any DDR program – as by aiming to control the quantity and type of weapons in circulation in the immediate post-conflict environment it has a clear role to play in increasing security in the short-term, as well as contributing to building confidence of all stakeholders in the process and ultimately avoid the occurrence of future conflict. In fact, incomplete and inefficient disarmament processes have in several cases contributed

Demilitarization, DDR and War to Peace Transitions

17

to the proliferation of small arms and light weapons, affecting not only the country in question but also neighboring countries.26 In their comprehensive reflection on disarmament, Knight and Ozerdem recall David Last’s critical notion of disarmament as a social contract. In their words: “by disarming, the combatants are forging a new social contract with the government and the international community, which act as impartial mediators; the combatants surrender the security and economic surety that their weapons provide, in exchange for opportunities and assistance in finding new peaceful livelihoods.” These authors emphasize that this implied contract between individual combatants and the state is often forgotten with the emphasis being placed “on weapons and military forces instead of social contract” (Knight and Ozerdem 2004, 504–506). This is an extremely important dimension and one that underpins our concern with the need to understand and reflect on the reintegration dimension of DDR processes. It also highlights some of the limits of current thinking on, and practice of, disarmament. At present, there is a risk of seeing disarmament, demobilization and reintegration as separate processes subject to sequential implementation. As an often cited prescription suggests, “where disarmament terminates, demobilization begins and where demobilization ends, reintegration commences” (UNDPKO 1999). However, increased international experienced with DDR programs in war to peace transitions has gradually exposed the limitations of an uncritical sequential approach to DDR, exposing the urgent need for a better understanding of all components and especially of reintegration. In this regard, Ball and van de Goor note that “DDR should be approached as a process, not a program … while DDR processes will consist of a series of programs aimed at addressing the various needs facing ex-combatants, their dependents, and the communities where they settle, it is important to recognize that DDR does not consist of distinct, linear activities. Instead these programs are embedded in broader dynamic, integrated processes”.27 In the policy literature’s sequential approach to DDR, the last component of the demobilization phase is termed reinsertion and defined in the following terms: Reinsertion is the assistance offered to ex-combatants during demobilization but prior to the longer-term process of reintegration. Reinsertion is a form of transitional assistance to help cover the basic needs of ex-combatants and their families and can include transitional safety allowances, food, clothes, shelter, medical services, short-term education, training, employment and tools. While reintegration is a long-term, continuous social and economic process of development, reinsertion is short-term material and/or financial assistance to meet immediate needs, and can last up to one year (UNSG 2005).

26 In this regard, Knight and Ozerdem note that “the incomplete disarmament in Mozambique contributed to the proliferation of weapons not only throughout that country but also in neighbouring countries such as South Africa, Zambia and Malawi” (Knight and Ozerdem 2004, 503). 27 As noted by these authors “notwithstanding the importance of and increased experience with DDR over the last decade, programme implementation remains problematic. This is why the Stockholm Initiative on SSR (SIDDR) was undertaken, and why the UN developed its Integrated DDR Standards (IDDRS)” (Ball and van de Goor 2006, iv, 7).

18

From Soldiers to Citizens

Reinsertion has been central to most DDR programs, ranging from Uganda’s phased demobilization referred to above, to Ethiopia’s demobilization of the Derg’s army, to the 1992–1994 process in Mozambique or the current processes in Burundi and DRC. The transitional nature and rationale of the process (covering the basic needs of ex-combatants and their families in terms of transitional safety allowances, food, clothes, shelter, medical services, short term training, employment, and tools), places “reinsertion” firmly in the immediate, post-conflict stabilization phase. We will return to this important component of DDR programs in the section below. At the end of the DDR continuum described above, the last step of a DDR program is considered to be that of the reintegration of former combatants back into society. UNDPKO sees reintegration as “assistance measures provided to former combatants that would increase the potential for their and their families economic and social reintegration into civil society. Reintegration programmes could include cash assistance or compensation in kind, as well as vocational training and income generating activities” (UNDPKO 1999, 5–15). Interestingly, as will be discussed in the pages below, this definition of reintegration shows that during the UN’s initial experiences at DDR in the 1990s, reintegration was practised with the immediate short to medium term in mind. And although there was some recognition of the long term nature of reintegration processes (including the need for professional training and provision of employment opportunities to former combatants), more often than not reintegration programs were focused on the provision of cash and in-kind payments with the aim of maintaining the former combatant in resettlement areas. While the concept of reintegration has evolved to reflect some of the lessons learned in DDR processes over the last decade – in fact moving closer to what Kees Kingma had suggested several years ago – it remains for the most part insufficiently understood. In 1999 Kingma had warned that, …the demobilisation and resettlement might have to be implemented quickly, but reintegration is by nature a slow social, economic and psychological process. Successful reintegration into civilian life depends to a large extent on the initiative of the ex-combatant and their families and on the support they receive from their communities, the government, NGOs, or foreign development cooperation. In the longer term the reintegration also depends on the process of democratisation, including the recovery of a weak (or collapsed) state and the maturing of an independent civil society (Kingma 1999).

In a note to the UN General Assembly several years after the publication by DPKO of its DDR principles and guidelines, Kofi Annan suggested that “reintegration is essentially a social and economic process with an open time-frame” which takes place primarily at local level, is part of the general development of a country and a national responsibility and often “necessitates long-term external assistance” (UNSG 2005).28 Ann Fitz-Gerald’s point on the centrality of reintegration (“reintegration remains the most challenging element of DDR to implement”) is confirmed by the challenges faced by a number of current DDR programs (Fitz-Gerald 2005, 5). This is particularly the case in Liberia where, of a total demobilized caseload of 103,000 28 See also UNDPKO 2006 especially section 4.30 on Social and Economic Reintegration.

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19

only 24,000 had received any meaningful reintegration support by 2005 – more than two years after the program started.29 In a similar vein, referring to the otherwise relatively smooth DDR program currently being implemented in Burundi, Boshoff and Vrey note that, The biggest challenge for the future will be the reintegration of the ex-combatants into civilian life. This process is only just beginning. Demobilised ex-combatants and former soldiers were given reinsertion payments to support them for 18 months. The long-term goal, however, is their acquiring a sustainable social and economic role in a peaceful society (Boshoff and Vrey 2006).

Reintegration: Exploring the Issues Approaches and time-frames While there seems to have been some effort at distinguishing “reinsertion” from “reintegration” in the practical implementation of DDR programs, the conceptual underdevelopment of “reintegration” – as evidenced by the relative lack of attention paid to its definition in policy and academic literature – has created a number of challenges. The UN states that “while reintegration is a long-term, continuous social and economic process of development, reinsertion is a short-term material and/or financial assistance to meet immediate needs” (UNDPKO 2006); yet, elsewhere, the terms are conflated and reintegration compressed unhelpfully into a short-term time-frame linked more with aspects of negative peace and violence avoidance (and expediency of program delivery) rather than the longer term, developmental and therefore positive/structural violence side of the peacebuilding?30 In a pendulum-like fashion, the literature moves from the short to the long term, from regarding DDR as core to efforts at securing “the environment so that other elements of a recovery and peacebuilding strategy can proceed” to giving DDR programs the responsibility of “reconstructing the social fabric and developing human capacity, resulting in the establishment of a sustainable, long-term peacebuilding capacity that continues to function once a UN mission comes to an end” (UNDPKO 2006).31 While considering that “long-term reintegration ultimately is the yardstick by which success of a DRP is measured,” Colletta et al still regard that the “speed of implementation should be an important criterion for any reintegration 29 In fact, one of the key findings from a nationwide survey of reintegration of excombatants in Liberia during February–March 2006, was that “there is a major risk of leaving behind a very vulnerable grouping of NCDDRR [National Commission on DDR] registered ex-combatants – those who have disarmed and demobilised but have yet to receive training. This category of former fighters is the least educated, most agriculturally oriented, and poorest of the four classes under investigation” (Pugel 2006, 4). 30 For example when the IDDRS states that “to achieve the security objectives of a DDR programme, support should be given for the full initial reintegration of ex-combatants.” See especially section 1.10 on Introduction to Integrated DDR Standards and section 4.30 on Social and Economic Reintegration. 31 See section 2.10 on The UN Approach to DDR.

20

From Soldiers to Citizens

measure because ex-combatants are most vulnerable in the first two years after demobilisation” (Colletta et al 1996 (A), 18). On the ground, this conflation of short term emergency and stabilization (reinsertion) imperatives with longer term socio-economic reintegration and therefore development is rarely resolved. This was patently clear in the Ethiopia case as the Commission in charge of the DRR considered that reintegration referred to “a long-term period of approximately two years during which ex-combatants gradually become ‘normal’ country members, both in social and economic terms [our emphasis]” (Colletta et al 1996 (B), 49). Reintegration requires the transformation of the individual: from a soldier, a combatant, a mercenary to a civilian, in fact, a citizen – a transformation which is largely voluntary and whose success depends on the willingness and initiative of the former combatant. During the demobilization program in Uganda, for instance, one veteran noted that “we have been demobilised but not demilitarised.” Several veterans shared the view that “success in military life is the antithesis of success in civilian life” – referring to aggression, subservience and mobility as “important components of a soldier’s behaviour but inimical to traditional peaceful life as a civilian” (Colletta et al 1996 (B), 275). If one’s understanding of reintegration is that it is the “process by which excombatants acquire civilian status and gain access to civilian forms of work and income,” a process considered primarily social and economic in nature and with an open time-frame32 – what could be the justification of including it as part of DDR processes? What are the bases for this and what could be the potential pitfalls of such conflation? Virginia Gamba alerts to this problem when she considers that, The examples of past demobilisation retraining and reintegration efforts in Southern Africa have by and large been negative. It has been customary for international and government agencies assisting in the process of demobilisation and reintegration to look at this issue as if it were a minor correction rather than a major overhaul of society [our emphasis] (Gamba 1999).

The long term nature of the process and the complexities involved should not be underestimated. As Douglas et al note, reintegration “is essentially determined by the economic situation in the country and by the extent of co-operation with other development programmes ... this long-term perspective should also be reflected in the mandate of the institutions involved (Douglas et al 2004, 69). Although policy makers and implementation agencies often emphasize the long term and holistic nature of processes of reintegration, in practice the long term vision is overtaken by a focus on short term priorities – priorities which are, of course, critical to those implementing DDR programs (post war security and stabilization, mandates, expediency, financial constraints, exit strategies, and so on). Yet paradoxically by setting unrealistic aims and objectives for DDR programs, creating the expectation that DDR programs can, in practice, go beyond laying the groundwork for security to actually safeguarding and sustaining communities in post-conflict situations, policy makers and implementation agencies may inadvertently contribute to the failure of DDR. To what extent, within the timeframes of DDR processes can they realistically 32 As defined by Douglas et al 2004, 15.

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“help to deal with the post-conflict security problems by providing ex-combatants with an alternative to the ways of making a living (livelihoods) and military support networks that they may have relied upon during the conflict?”33 In war to peace transitions, where often the state is weak, enervated or has simply collapsed, these challenges are particularly acute. Some authors recognize this, as they explore the relationship between DDR processes and long term structural peace building. Using a concept of peacebuilding that encompasses “programmes ranging from micro-level changes in the opinions and behaviour of conflicting communities to macro-level institutional changes that address the structural causes of conflicts,” Knight and Ozerdem note that “potentially, the DDR of former combatants constitutes one such activity, and within the context of the war-to-peace transition, it can have a number of important effects upon the wider environment” (Knight and Ozerdem 2004, 499–516). In marked contrast to the IDDRS, Douglas et al are clear in saying that “demobilisation by itself does not defuse the actual potential for conflict, as it does not remove the causes of conflicts” (Douglas et al 2004).34 These dilemmas are also clearly captured by Ball and van de Goor when they note that, DDR processes have the capacity to influence only a fairly narrow range of political and security objectives. They cannot substitute for inadequate will on the part of the parties to the conflict or peace enforcement activities. Nor can they prevent conflict from occurring. DDR also cannot produce development, guarantee the successful reintegration of excombatants into society, or substitute for longer term programs to combat the proliferation of small arms and light weapons [our emphasis] (Ball and van de Goor 2006, 1).

Beyond reintegration, a practical example of the ways in which myopic timeframes may impact on the design and implementation of DDR processes is that of disarmament. As noted in the pages above, demilitarization (of conflict, of society, of minds) implies a reduction in the actual and potential resource to arms in the resolution of conflicts. Disarmament, within this, plays a crucial role, not only “practical” but perhaps as importantly, symbolic – “demobilising individuals part with the weapons which formed part of their military way of life and often their identity as well” (Douglas et al 2004). Yet, disarmament too should be imbued by a strategic perspective that transcends the short term collection and destruction of weapons used in the armed conflict. Such a strategic vision should lay the foundations for longer term disarmament strategies right at the very beginning of the DDR.

33 UNDPKO 2006. See section 2.10 on The UN Approach to DDR. 34 The UN considers that “the ultimate aim of DDR programmes is to prevent a return to violent conflict, that is, to make peace irreversible. To achieve this, DDR programmes shall encourage trust and confidence and deal with the root causes of conflict.” One of the examples of how in practice this can be achieved is given: “a thorough understanding of the causes of the conflict [is required] in order to design more responsive reintegration packages that takes into consideration the needs of the various groups [male and female adult combatants; children associated with armed forces and groups; those working in a noncombat role (including women) and ex-combatants with disabilities and chronic illnesses; and dependents].” UNDPKO 2006, see section 2.10 on The UN Approach to DDR.

From Soldiers to Citizens

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As the situations in Liberia, Sierra Leone, Burundi, and now DRC demonstrate, disarmament must deal with the illegal trade and flow of weapons – a challenge of a structural nature, demanding a structural response. Moreover, disarmament programs must understand the impulse and the causes behind the availability of weapons. This requires a peacebuilding paradigm which transcends the immediate, short term. Examples such as that of Mozambique, where weapons collection and destruction continue long after the DDR process was finalized (Operations Rachel) should be carefully considered. If expected to be part of long-term development why are “reintegration” components of DDR programs so rarely (and so poorly) connected to overall efforts at reconstruction, peacebuilding and development?35 Why is it that, as noted above, the long term socio-economic objectives of DDR programs are so often contradicted by the implementation realities faced by policy makers and implementing agencies on the ground – forcing a return to a more modest objective, that of post-conflict stabilization through the establishment of immediate security? In practice, as in the Uganda demobilization program, short to medium term interventions (from one to two years) seems to be what is realistically achieved. Colletta et al note that because the Uganda Veterans Assistance Program was from the outset defined as a shortterm intervention, “its major components related to demobilisation and reinsertion.” As for longer term reintegration, the government of Uganda chose to develop a series of programs (the Entandikwa Scheme; the Country Actions Program and a Poverty Alleviation Project supported by the African Development Bank) directed at improving the socio-economic conditions of all vulnerable Ugandans, including former combatants. This leads these authors to conclude that A demobilisation and reintegration program is only a highly targeted, short-term, special policy intervention. It can and should ameliorate short-term immediate needs, but it cannot address long-term development needs (Colletta et al 1996, 261, 335).

Contexts of reintegration This leads us to the “terrain” we referred to above: that of state weakness, decay and in many cases outright failure. There are numerous examples of the political, security and socio-economic consequences of the collapse of state authority across sub-Saharan Africa – Somalia, Liberia, and Sierra Leone during the 1990s being often cited examples. The current proliferation of ethnic and community-based armed groups in the Ituri district of the DRC has also been attributed to “the vacuum created by the collapse of state authority in the region since the beginning of the

35 Highlighting two main factors that may explain the inadequate linkage of DDR to long term recovery and development, Ball and van de Goor note that “one has been the absence of an institutional mechanism to guarantee a close connection between the bodies responsible for short to medium term assistance to ex-combatants and their dependents, on the one hand, and longer-term assistance to communities, on the other. A second factor is that the international community’s limited time horizon often means that most resources are delivered in the first few years of the peace process” [our emphasis] (Ball and van de Goor 2006, 17).

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war” (AI 2007). Yet, what is perhaps more relevant is to approach the state-strength issue as a continuum, and following Holsti, to recognize that: State strength…is not measured in military terms. It is, rather, in the capacity of the state to command loyalty – the right to rule; to extract the resources necessary to rule and provide services, to maintain that essential element of sovereignty, a monopoly over the legitimate use of force within defined territorial limits, and to operate within the context of a consensus-based political community (Holsti 1996).36

By and large, while some of the challenges relating to state weakness and failure in the immediate post-war period are mentioned in the DDR literature they are scantily discussed. Douglas et al devote a couple of pages to the practical differences that result from cases of “reintegration into war-affected societies, and reintegration into stable, largely civilian societies” (Douglas et al 2004, 73). As GTZ notes, DDR processes are particularly complex in post conflict environments as a result of the simultaneous unrolling of a number of important and far-reaching processes, including democratization, economic stabilization, infrastructure rehabilitation, and repatriation of refugees (GTZ 2001). In our view, deeper consideration of these would contribute significantly to the better understanding of reintegration and associated processes – a lacuna this volume tries to address. Understanding the very conditions that pertain in many war to peace transitions (as they relate to the presence or otherwise of state structures and the provision of basic services; to issues of horizontal and vertical legitimacy; to infrastructure; to opportunity structures; to social capital at the community level, to security, to law and order) may, in many cases, temper our enthusiasm for a quick return to “normality.”37 This relates closely with DDR processes, particularly as reintegration is concerned. In the majority of cases where DDR programs have been deployed, devastated political, social and economic structures are all that are left after war. In fact, in many countries that have experienced protracted armed conflicts, state weakness and decay, poverty and underdevelopment, discriminatory political institutions and an overall lack of opportunities are at the root of the violence in the first place. As a result the very use of the prefix (re) for reintegration is often critically questioned, as what may be involved is, in fact, “integration.” A few authors have

36 This author notes that “at one extreme are strong states whose main features are strong linkages between the physical, attitudinal, and institutional components, all encompassed within high degrees of vertical and horizontal legitimacy … At the other extreme are failed states, political entities that have collapsed. There is little or no public order, leadership commands no authority or loyalty, and a variety of groups and factions are armed to resist those who might try to integrate the community or establish effective order. Communal war and local rule by warlords, gangs, and factions are the order of the day” (Holsti 1996, 82–90). For a detailed discussion of weak and failed states see Jackson 1990; for a critical evaluation of the international community’s approaches to (re) building state institutions in collapsed states see Ottaway 2002. 37 Opportunity structures are defined by Colletta et al as opportunities for market access open to beneficiaries and dependents on the various markets (land, labor, credit); skills development, information and technology (Colletta et al, 1996, 10–11).

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recognized some of the difficulties inherent in the very concept of “re-integration” in war to peace transitions, Reintegration for ex-combatants, as well as for returnees and internally displaced persons (IDPs), is particularly difficult in post-war situations. It is only possible to speak of reintegration to a limited extent, as war and violence considerably change the perceptions and abilities of ex-combatants. They cannot and often do not want to revert to their prewar social roles… . To return to the social situation and conditions that existed before the war is rarely possible or desirable (Douglas et al 2004, 65).

We know that civilians are, to a disproportionate level affected directly by armed conflict (displaced, abducted, forced to join conflict groups) – in fact, directly targeted as part of current warfare tactics; we know that civilian infrastructure is a primary target (witness the case of Charles Taylor’s advance in Liberia) and the disruption and destruction of the state are primary tactics of rebel groups. Perhaps more strikingly we are aware of the conditions that pertain as hostilities de-escalate and the first glimpses at previously inaccessible areas reveal, more often than not, a picture of devastation. Yet, as the machinery of DDR enters the picture, we tend to think it abstract, unrelated to the socio-economic and political conditions on the ground. While at a political and social fabric level the consequences of armed conflict are considerable, no other area evidences greater disruption than the economic and therefore the development sphere. Not only does conflict destroy the existing economic fabric of countries (infrastructure, productive capacities and economic activity) gradually undermining economic activity and livelihoods, it introduces economic distortion in the form of growing military expenditure (to the detriment of other areas), rampant corruption, the growing of the informal economy and ultimately the development of war economies. The UNDPKO recognizes this when it says that “this is the environment into which, when hostilities end, ex-combatants will be released. From making a living by the gun, they will have to enter the labour market and compete with ordinary civilians for extremely scarce jobs or other ways of making a living. The poor economic situation that exists in most post-conflict situations therefore makes the economic reintegration of ex-combatants an even harder task” (UNDPKO 2006).38 The example of “pre-discharge” orientation activities serves to illustrate this point. The gathering of baseline socio-economic data, expectations and skills of former combatants is, of course critical to assess reintegration potential – or Colletta et al’s “opportunity structure” defined above. Yet, as we move closer to the “orientation” side of these activities – particularly informing demobilized soldiers about “their future prospects and the alternative means that may be in place to assist them” as well as the “social and economic adjustments they may have to make” – the disjuncture between aspirations and the conditions of the post-conflict environment tends to grow. In what ways can we, in a context of severe devastation, provide the

38 See section 2.20 on Post-conflict Stabilisation, Peacebuilding and Recovery Frameworks.

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“realistic assessment” of conditions that some of the policy literature talks about?39 What will this realistic assessment look like in contexts such as that of Liberia, Angola, and Burundi? And at what point are DDR processes not contributing to the creation of unrealistic expectations, immediately shattered as the former combatant resettles?40 As the case of Angola discussed in the pages below will demonstrate, even when there is specifically designed legislation intended to govern the resettlement and return of populations affected by the armed conflict (including ex-combatants), it is extremely difficult for agencies involved (governmental and non-governmental alike) to have a clear picture of the socio-economic conditions pertaining in those areas. As this knowledge and information are critical in the design of reintegration packages (particularly in their professional training component) and these are often developed during resettlement and return, the expectation that rapid needs assessments (amongst others) are sufficient to guide reintegration planning within DDR programs may be misplaced.41 These dilemmas pose considerable conceptual and practical challenges, particularly on the risk of returning former combatants to a status quo ante, itself at the root of armed conflict in the first place. Would this not be the logical consequence if we were to, following Colletta et al, give former combatants “no more support than is necessary to help them attain the standard of living of the communities into which they are integrated?”42 Anícia Lala refers to this particular dilemma as “reintegration into poverty.” In her analysis of the Mozambican DDR process, she noted that The assumption that the majority of the demobilized would want to return to agriculture was short-sighted as the socio-economic history of the country teaches us that the Mozambican household economy was always varied…those who manage to subsist on the basis of their own activities such as agriculture, cattle breeding or informal commerce and are not formally employed, tend not to perceive themselves as reintegrated (Lala 2005, 173).

39 Douglas et al, 2004, 56. 40 Frustration caused by unmet promises can lead to the temporary suspension and even collapse of DDR programs. In the DRC, dozens of protests have been organized by demobilized soldiers in towns where receptions centers are located. As noted by Amnesty International, former combatants in Bunia denounced the slowness of the program’s community reintegration component and “asked for the return of their weapons claiming they had been tricked by the programme coordinators” (AI 2007). 41 The IDDRS rightly considers the following as key issues in the design of reintegration programs: (1) determine market structures and community absorption capacities; (2) ensure sustainability of reintegration schemes; (3) link reintegration with broader economic recovery and development processes; (4) develop mechanisms for monitoring and evaluation; (5) adapt reintegration schemes to different contexts and reintegration profiles; (6) ensure adequate facilities of vocational/professional training; (7) pay attention to vulnerable groups; (8) plan how to sensitize communities and involve them in reintegration and, finally, (9) develop mixed reintegration/community development projects (UNDPKO 2006). 42 Colletta et al 1996 (A), 3.

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From Soldiers to Citizens

As emphasized above, some of the activities which at the moment are expected of DDR programs – though rarely in practice achieved – would be better placed as part of long-term poverty reduction and development strategies. If we establish the sustainable social and economic reintegration of former combatants as the ultimate objective of DDR are we not setting ourselves ultimately to fail? What our analysis will reveal is that irrespective of conflict group type and context of war termination, if the socio-economic and political environment within which the reintegration takes place is one of state weakness, decay and failure, structural conditions become paramount in the success and failure of reintegration. In fact, in these contexts, the challenges of reintegration go much beyond those related to former combatants to include a much larger group composed of IDPs, returnees, refugees, and so on. These structural conditions will have an important bearing on former combatants’ expectations – as more often than not the former combatant expects reintegration programs to provide him or her with education and training, access to employment and a guarantee to a sustainable livelihoods, and so on. Anecdotal evidence from a number of cases has revealed that at the time of demobilization, the former combatant tends to evidence unrealistic expectations about his or her future – a reflection of a lack of both knowledge and understanding of the socio-economic opportunities available in the post-war period. This should not come as a surprise as the processes of demobilization (as well as mobilization) often use distorted, exaggerated narratives of what combatants can expect if they lay down their weapons (in the case of mobilization if they pursue war). Exaggerating the ability of DDR programs to tackle some of these structural conditions may in and of itself be detrimental to the longer term sustainability of peace. Colletta et al rightly note that “even comprehensive programs in a favorable macroeconomic environment cannot by themselves ensure that living standards of ex-combatants will equal those of the poorer segments of the civilian population.” These authors point to the example of Uganda where the annual income of excombatants during the reintegration phase “was estimated at less than half the already low national average for the working population” (Colletta et al 1996 (A), 22). Discussing the Ituri DCR program, Bouta notes that, No community reinsertion benefits can ever compete with the benefits the militia gain from looting and illegal exploitation of resources. As long as these activities continue, it is not realistic to expect them to disarm and take up their civilian life again. However, various interviewees indicated that only a few high-ranking militia members get the profits, and the majority do not. For this majority, adequate reinsertion assistance can be a powerful incentive to leave the militias [our emphasis] (Bouta 2005, 28).

Finally, to focus our attention on reintegration in contexts of devastated socioeconomic fabrics is not to deny the importance of context-specific DDR programs. As each individual case presents a series of specific challenges, rooted in particular environments, often involving very different types of armed groups, one should not underestimate the relevance of context-specificity. The fact that the DDR program may be implemented following an outright victory (as was the case of Angola), following a negotiated settlement (as is currently the case in the DRC and Burundi) or as part of a peacekeeping operation will determine to a large extent the types of

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interventions required. Equally, this focus should not detract us from learning from the experiences of DDR in contexts of “stability” – be it related to demobilizations for the purposes of a reduction in armed forces, or as a result of armed conflicts which for one reason or another have not resulted in the devastation which we find in many post conflict environments. Communities, ex-combatants and other vulnerable groups As noted above, in transitions from war to peace, state weakness and state failure characterize the very context where DDR is deployed, placing the former combatant in a context of vulnerability commonly experienced by all affected groups. In fact, “most ex-combatants share many of the characteristics of the country’s poor population: they tend to be illiterate, or functionally so; they are probably in poor health; they have few or no non-military skills; they may have lost their entire family and thus their immediate social network; and they have little capital, few assets, and limited access to land” (Colletta et al 1996 (A), 10). Reintegration of former DERG and OLF former combatants in Ethiopia was considered a “formidable challenge” largely due to a context of severe poverty which affected the population as a whole. Nevertheless, the need to ensure some modicum of security in the immediate post-war period has underlined the international community’s belief in targeted approaches to reintegration, which at the outset distinguish the former combatant from other vulnerable groups. The risk of the former combatant becoming a potential spoiler by resorting to violence, criminal activity and predatory behavior – a result of their “lack of civilian skills” and a “habit on relying on violence to get what they want” – justifies that “while other war-affected groups such as refugees and internally displaced persons (IDPs) may far outnumber them, ex-combatants will usually need focused, sustainable support if they are to succeed in making the transition from military to civilian life.” This is a particularly important concern as regards the need to make sure that potential spoilers in the form of militia leaders and warlords (especially mid-level commanders) are not left out. The IDDRS recognize this by saying that, Although applying the principle of equity will increase the chances of reconciliation and sustainable reintegration, the security situation often demands that, in the short term at least, a specific focus on ex-combatants is required to increase security…in this sense support for ex-combatants is not to be regarded as special treatment for ex-combatants, but rather as an investment in security for the population as a whole [our emphasis] (UNDPKO 2006).43

The argument on the potential for increased criminal activity also abounds in the policy and academic literatures.44 Highlighting the dangers posed by “frustrated, skilled, unemployed ex-combatants,” UNDPKO warns that “in the medium to long term, incomplete or ineffective reintegration of ex-combatants into civil society may lead to armed criminality by those former combatants who have no other means 43 See section 4.30 on Social and Economic Reintegration. 44 See for example Collier 1994 and Kingma 1999.

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From Soldiers to Citizens

of earning a living” (UNDPKO 1999, 83, 16). As Douglas et al note: “if society excludes ex-combatants economically, politically, socially and culturally, they may then resort to violence and criminal activity as a means of income generation and survival. These methods of income generation create or sustain a climate of physical, economic and social insecurity, which can have an effect on the cultural behaviour of a country’s population” (Douglas et al 2004, 27). The evidence that a significant proportion of former combatants may indeed resort to criminal activity has stemmed from cursory observations of DDR processes in Mozambique, South Africa, El Salvador, Cambodia, Nicaragua, the Balkans, and Angola. Yet, no systematic comparative attempt to survey, quantify and understand this risk has been developed to date. In fact, detailed single country studies have often showed otherwise. In their analysis of both Uganda and Ethiopia’s DDR program, Colletta et al noted that the relationship between the presence of ex-combatants and crime was negligible (Colletta et al 1996, (B), 12–14). The “criminality risk” assumption – in many of the contexts where DDR processes are implemented – would also benefit from a deeper understanding of post-war contexts of state weakness and decay. Shaped by the preponderance of the informal economy, and very often of war economies, the difficulties in establishing the boundaries of organized and individual economic criminality are considerable. In many cases, the former combatant has no other viable option but to survive by operating in the informal economy. An understanding of the specific challenges posed to DDR in these types of contexts is therefore critical. In addition, it is necessary that some differentiation be made as to the type, characteristics, history and composition of different armed groups (state and non-state). Such a differentiation will undoubtedly reveal sharp differences in ethos which have a bearing on the “criminality risk” assumption. Should we, as is so often the case in the literature, comfortably lump movements as different as the RUF of Sierra Leone, the RCD-G of the DRC, RENAMO of Mozambique, UNITA of Angola or the LRA of Uganda? Some of the assumptions focused on the possible risks associated with a rise in criminality – and with very few exceptions – require additional empirical research. Our own conclusions in this regard – based merely on interviews – are that a particular group within former combatants’ caseloads may have a higher risk of choosing the path of criminality: that of disgruntled, unsatisfied middle ranking officers. Paying special attention to the elites within armed movements has become an important component of DDR practice – in fact, as will be discussed below, the Angola case is a paradigmatic example of this concern. In Mozambique, as noted by Lala, “whilst it has not been proven that the demobilised in general devoted themselves to crime, those that belonged to the medium and high rankings (or with specialised training) of the armed forces were deeply suspected of being connected to drugs and arms trafficking” (Lala 2005, 178). In a similar vein, the experience of El Salvador indicates that “special focus is warranted for the leaders and superiors of armed groups: when they are satisfactorily reintegrated, they set an example for their followers” (Douglas et al 2004, 72). Yet, while senior officers and other leadership officials may be given priority as reintegration is concerned, little attention has been given to middle ranking officers which may not have been part of this “selection” and which may find themselves at the same level as the “rank and file.” We will

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return to this issue in the pages below – it suffices to say at this point that there is very little consensus on the need to specifically target military elites. An additional argument put forward in the literature has been that the psychological, social and relational consequences of fighting distinguish former combatants from other vulnerable groups as they may experience problems of a psychiatric nature (PTSD), of a social and relational nature (acceptance, cultures of violence), and of an economic nature (skills related). Cultures of violence have merited considerable attention – as former combatants may exhibit a reliance on violence as a strategy for survival. Yet, while concerns over equitable and nondiscriminatory assistance to different groups within the demobilized caseload are considered critical to the success of DDR programs,45 the very same concerns should apply to reintegration assistance to all populations directly affected by armed conflict (IDPs, returnees, residents – and within these, different age and gender). As was emphasized above, in war to peace transitions long term peacebuilding is dependent on the involvement of a large and varied number of different vulnerable groups, including former combatants and their families, IDPs, returnees, resident populations, refugees, and so on. For the principles of proportionality, nondiscrimination and “do no harm” to operate in any meaningful sense, needs must be accessed across all groups – and not merely within the demobilized population. Not only do these population groups outnumber considerably the caseload of former combatants, their needs are often very similar to those of the former combatant. An approach which recognizes these contexts and acts towards a more integrated approach to reintegration of all affected groups would seem therefore more appropriate. GTZ has noted that “a consensus appears to exist among analysts that special efforts for ex-combatants are generally necessary and justified during the demobilisation and resettlement process, but that support in the reintegration phase, should, as far as possible, be community-based and form part of post-war rehabilitation efforts” (GTZ 2001). Douglas et al contribute with an interesting perspective on what they term a “shift from the individual to the community,” considered fundamental for the success of reintegration programs. To these authors, this shift relates to the fact that during the reintegration phase the group of beneficiaries is “larger than the actual target group of ex-combatants, as their families and the communities who take them in must also be able to benefit from reintegration measures.” Yet, at a more fundamental level, these authors emphasize the “community” (composed of residents, returnees, former combatants, IDPs) should become the center around which all reintegration efforts gravitate – in fact, communities’ needs are prioritized over and above the individual’s (Douglas et al 2004).46 It is telling that in a review of reintegration programs of former child combatants, William Deng reaches the very 45 International best practice has identified the provision of targeted reintegration assistance to the most vulnerable within the demobilized caseload (child soldiers – including girl soldiers, disabled soldiers, female soldiers and combatants’ dependents as critical in the design and implementation of DDR programs). 46 Similarly, for the UN, both individuals and their communities must be regarded as stakeholders in reintegration and reconstruction efforts (UNDPKO 2006), section 2.10 on The UN Approach to DDR.

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same conclusion. In his words “this survey suggests that reintegration programmes should not target former child soldiers as individuals only, but instead should be oriented toward and based in the community” (Deng 2001). At an international policy level, communities have been elevated to “principal partner” in DDR programs – “as beneficiaries, but also as participants in the planning and implementation of reintegration strategies” (UNDPKO 2006). A closer reading of the policy literature’s call for a focus on communities seems to corroborate our initial series of hypotheses. The UN concludes that reintegration assistance to excombatants should be made available to a range of war-affected populations and that “where ex-combatants receive individual reintegration support, this assistance should be limited in time and scope and delivered, as far as possible, through programmes and projects that benefit the broader community” (UNDPKO 2006). In fact, the 1999 UNDPKO guidelines had already highlighted that “special attention should be given to internally displaced persons and returning refugees as they are major sufferers of civil conflicts and often constitute a sizable portion of afflicted society” (UNDPKO 1999, 83). A focus on the community as the focal point and locus of reintegration seems the appropriate strategy to follow, particularly when there is a clear recognition that in many war to peace transitions where communities were ravaged and destroyed, the challenges may require support to community rebuilding. However, once again, to what extent are DDR programs adequate instruments for community rebuilding? If the community is in fact at the center, the time frame is the long durée, and ownership necessarily national, what role can development co-operation have in supporting DDR programs? If building communities’ capacities (and above and beyond that, state administration at different levels of government) is regarded as a critical task, does it sit comfortably as part of a DDR program? If the “community” is considered key to reintegration success, in areas where “community” is absent as a result of war, widespread displacement and devastation, how should one approach reintegration? How to avoid the danger of conflation referred to above, by which reintegration as part of DDR programs is given responsibilities and tasks that it cannot possibly fulfill? A number of additional concerns underlie the importance given to the community. Perhaps first and foremost is the issue of demobilized combatants’ allegiance to their former military networks and the potential for remobilization posed by unsatisfied former combatants. Former combatants “must be convinced that there are better options than taking up arms again” – namely, better opportunities at the end of the DDR process. In Ituri, delays in the implementation of reintegration components of the DCR (disarmament and community reinsertion program) have caused considerable tension. As noted by Tsjeard Bouta, … the militias, ex-combatants and receiving communities are far from satisfied with the assistance being provided … there is the suspicion that unless the situation improves, militias will not give up their arms and return home; instead, ex-combatants will consider returning to the militias, and communities will become less willing to receive excombatants as this brings more trouble than benefits (Bouta 2005, 7).

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Yet, to paraphrase Colletta et al, “just how well can a war-devastated social infrastructure receive and support ex-combatants?”47 Preceding the strengthening of “social capital,” is of course that initial moment of contact and interaction between a returned former combatant, the resident population and all other returning groups (IDPs, refugees, and so on). Significant attention has been devoted to understanding the conditions of this “re-encounter” – particularly because there is the perception that the potential for localized violence increases in these situations. The acceptance by the “community” of the former combatant is considered central to successful reintegration. The case of Northern Uganda is a case in point – in this particular situation the issues surrounding the reintegration of abducted child combatants pose very specific challenges as LRA’s abductees were often forced to commit serious atrocities to their families and communities as part of the movement’s initiation rights (operating, of course, under the assumption that these acts would sever all links between the child and his or her community and destroy any possibility of forgiveness) give this case a very specific number of characteristics. The involvement of communities in the planning and design phase of DDR programs should be encouraged and communities should be informed and supported so that they can receive ex-combatants and their dependents. Rightly, the UNDPKO emphasizes that “these communities must be given the means to support the sustainable rehabilitation and reintegration of these groups.48 Yet, how does this principle operate in areas where the return affects all? How does it apply in cases where civilians played (wittingly or unwittingly) a part in the conflict? A focus on the community (and particularly on a proto community) seems to be required here: for such a focus will necessarily force us in the direction of understanding forgiveness as a collective process, where former combatants, residents and returnees retune, transform their ways in an effort to live together. This is where notions of social capital are brought to the literature on DDR. For Colletta et al understanding the opportunity structure requires a detailed analysis of social capital at community level. Understanding social capital allows for the assessment of “the cohesiveness of communities, the communities’ levels of interpersonal trust, their potential for active participation in programme implementation, their attitude toward the broader issue of national reconciliation, and their capacity to act as support networks” (Colletta et al 1996 (A), 11). The development and strengthening of social networks at local level, networks which transcend military allegiances during conflict is therefore an important constituent of reintegration – particularly because, as noted in the pages above, combatants rely to a significant level on their armed group for survival.49 Using the potential of these

47 Colletta et al 1996, 24. 48 UNDPKO 2006, section 2.10 on The UN Approach to DDR. 49 Referring to the experiences of Kingma and Grebrewold in the Horn of Africa, Knight and Ozerdem note that this risk is particularly acute in situations characterized by the absence of a functioning state and legal system, availability of weapons, lack of economic opportunities, competition for natural resources, political marginalization and the absence of appropriate conflict management systems (Knight and Ozerdem 2004, 502).

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networks during reintegration – by transforming their rationale and focus and giving them a new direction – is a critical task in the transformation of soldiers to citizens. Once critically understood, reintegration in war to peace transitions involves many more people than simply the ex-combatant. It is not only “the successful integration of ex-combatants into civilian society (that) lays the foundation for sustainable peace and demilitarisation” but the development of that very civilian society, one that is inclusive of the former combatant (Douglas et al 2004, 97).50 While the need to conceptualize reintegration as a multi-level exercise has been highlighted by a number of policy documents so that it is thought as a series of interlinked processes and activities at macro (national), mezzo (regional) and micro (community) levels, in practice little attention has been given to the articulation – in fact, the very conceptualization – of reintegration at these levels. For while reintegration will take place at the individual and community level, the constraints exercised by macro level conditions are inescapable, determinant and may ultimately defeat efforts at these levels. And it is here that a developmental, long-term and multi-faceted approach to reintegration must be adopted – one which will hopefully become clear in the following chapters of this book.

50 This is what the UN refers to as a “new social contract (agreement),” that “must be reached among the different types of returnees (refugees, IDPs, ex-combatants), other newcomers and those who stayed behind to collectively deal with crime carried out during the conflict and to rebuild communities” (UNDPKO 2006).

Chapter 2

Demilitarization in the Angolan Context At War’s End: An Unprecedented Humanitarian Crisis We need to disarm in our minds first. We need agreement on what kind of life we want to live, what kind of society we want, what kind of nation we want to be … So it is important that [after] silencing the guns, we get to the stage where we can talk about the real issue[s] that brought onflict between us. Many Angolans, especially those younger ones who were born in the 70s and 80s, know nothing else except the war…we have to make sure that people don’t think that that is the normal way of life, that there is a proper way of living without conflict.1

The twin challenges of demilitarization and democratization noted in the introduction to this book are most starkly evident in the case of Angola. No other post-conflict situation has been faced with all the complexities and challenges of failed DDR processes in a war to peace transition scenario. No other protracted conflict has experimented with as wide a variety of experiences in the past two decades, ranging from UN managed programs to purely national efforts – this latest DDR program representing the third attempt at a structured demilitarization process in Angola. For close to three decades, this Southern African country suffered cycles of vicious and protracted civil war with strong internationalized elements – in its wake, it left hundreds of thousands of direct and indirect casualties, a virtually collapsed national economy and a shattered infrastructure, a sclerotic and unaccountable government system, a weak and virtually non-existent state structure in vast tracts of the country and, finally, a demoralized and largely traumatized civil society. In 2002, Angola was ranked 161 out of 173 countries in the UNDP’s Human Development Index. Moreover, racked by poverty and underdevelopment, Angola found itself at the end of the war (February 2002) facing a humanitarian catastrophe of unseen proportions – at the time, estimated to be the most expensive humanitarian operation in the world.2 The return and resettlement of over 4 million displaced people and the more than 450,000 refugees in neighboring countries constituted but part of the momentous challenges this country faced as it took the first tentative steps towards “normalization” in the immediate post-war period. The context of this crisis was 1 Reverend Daniel Ntoni-Nzinga, a Baptist minister and respected church leader, in an interview to Ofeibea Quist-Arcton of AllAfrica.com on 21 June 2005. 2 The humanitarian operation involved a substantial number of organizations, including 10 UN agencies, close to one hundred international NGOs and several hundred national NGOs and CBOs. At a governmental level, eleven ministries and government departments and all provincial governments were involved in humanitarian assistance. The 2002 appeal included 130 UN and NGO projects in thirteen sectors for a total amount of US$ 233 million.

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characterized by “deteriorated lines of communication and transport, devastated social and economic infrastructure, limited institutional capacity to respond adequately, land use constrained by access disputes and mines, conflicts over other resources between returning populations and those that remained in the areas of return, and debilitated local economic sector” (World Bank (C) 2002, 18). As we noted at the time, In essence meant to describe the extension of state administration throughout the national territory, “normalisation” has meant the (re) establishment of government structures and functions, in particular in areas previously controlled by UNITA. Yet, the post-conflict environment in Angola raises difficulties which surpass the politico-administrative components of state-(re) building. For if the extension of state administration has unquestionably been a historic priority for the Government of Angola, albeit bereft of real power or resources, the context in which it is being implemented after 27 years of civil war has stretched government capacity, as well as imagination, to its limit (Gomes Porto and Parsons 2003, 6).

Moreover, in marked contrast to the country’s previous experience, the end of war in Angola was reached through military victory. The Angolan Armed Forces’ (FAA) unparaleled and unrelentless military offensive was no match to a UNITA weakened by the weight of international sanctions, regional and international indifference and demoralized forces – the death in combat of Jonas Savimbi, leader of UNITA in February 2002 was a logical corollary of the pursuit of a “Peace through War” strategy. This was the view of the UN-system organizations present in Angola at the time: … the overwhelming military superiority of the Government forces, which contrasts sharply with the “freezing” of the military stalemate that prevailed at the time of Bicesse Accords and the Lusaka Protocol, makes peace much more likely to endure than after those earlier attempts at conflict resolution. The country clearly has its best chance yet to build a sustainable peace and move forward to economic and social recovery (UN 2002, 51).

These factors help explain the pace at which the belligerents agreed on a comprehensive cease-fire agreement as well as the unhindered (albeit short lived) will demonstrated in the resurrection and completion of the military aspects of the Lusaka peace process. The signing of a Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) between the belligerents two months later, in April 2002, established formal peace in Angola, at last.3 By mid-2002, a clearer picture of the humanitarian catastrophe began to emerge – in a heroic effort to reach the most vulnerable, humanitarian relief agencies 3 The “Memorandum of Understanding for the Cessation of Hostilities and the Resolution of the Outstanding Military Issues under the Lusaka Protocol” signed on 4 April 2002. Although often mistaken for a new peace accord for Angola, the “Memorandum of Understanding” merely continued the Lusaka peace process, replacing annexes 3 and 4 of the Lusaka Protocol, which remained the accepted and legitimate framework for peace in Angola. The “Memorandum of Understanding” regulated and updated the military components of the Lusaka Protocol, governing the disarmament, demobilization and reintegration of UNITA troops as well as concluding the integration of the armed forces.

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35

(international and Angolan) struggled against time as there was very limited or no access to large parts of the country (as can be seen in Figure 2.1 below). The resumption of armed hostilities throughout the national territory at the end of 1998 aggravated the displacement problem exponentially, with an additional 3 million displaced from their homes. To be sure, the tactical conduct of this last phase of the war by both sides was largely responsible for the situation.4 As noted by the representative of the UN’s Secretary General on internally displaced persons following a mission to Angola in October–November 2000, “large numbers of rural people had been displaced by UNITA forces” while “in the second half of 2001 and early months of 2002, large numbers of civilians were forcibly removed from rural areas, particularly in the east of the country, as part of a FAA strategy to deprive UNITA forces of civilian sources of food” (UN 2002, 11). In fact, when compared to the 800,000 people estimated to have been displaced at the time of the Bicesse Peace Accords (1991) and the additional 1.3 to 2 million displaced when the war spread to major urban centres in the period 1992–1994 following the Lusaka Peace Process, the true consequences of the pursuit of “Peace through War” strategies become clearer.

Figure 2.1

Angola – areas open for humanitarian activities, November 2002

(OCHA 2004)

4

See Gomes Porto et al 2002.

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From Soldiers to Citizens

In this immediate post-war environment – with a third of the country’s population internally displaced overcrowding urban and peri-urban areas and thousands of people in temporary resettlement sites – the challenges of implementing a DDR program were momentous.5 In the twelve months following the end of the war, the levels and magnitude of resettlement and return movements (spontaneous and organized) across the national territory were unforeseen and largely unexpected – in addition to known IDPs, thousands of people emerged from previously inaccessible areas, in spontaneous movements for which the humanitarian community was unprepared. Moreover, and for the most part, these population movements took place without any substantive support (even though this had been foreseen by the “Norms on Resettlement and Return” approved by the government during 2001).6 The scale of this problem may be partly attested by the difference registered between reported IDPs (4.4 million) and confirmed IDPs (1.3 million registered) during November 2002. Of Angola’s eighteen provinces, five were particularly affected – with a combined total of 2.5 million displaced: Luanda, Benguela, Lunda Norte, Huambo, and Kwanza Sul. As we pointed out in an earlier work on DDR in Angola, this humanitarian catastrophe largely determined the parameters within which post-war DDR was undertaken, … resettlement and return issues not only provide us with a picture of what in reality “normalisation” implies and therefore a clearer understanding of the challenges facing the government in Angola’s post-war environment, but they also highlight many of the obstacles and challenges that the socio-economic reintegration of ex-combatants will inevitably produce (Gomes Porto and Parsons 2002, 9).

In this war to peace transition, the scale of the humanitarian emergency (and in particular the levels of civilian displacement and resulting vulnerability) forces us to reflect on the commonalities between the former combatant and the displaced civilian – encapsulating, perhaps more than in any other sub-Saharan African situation, some of the dilemmas discussed in the previous chapter. What conditions pertained in Angola at the end of the war? What was the real and effective presence of state structures – and therefore provision of basic services, even if rudimentary – in many of the areas where the emergency was more acute? What opportunity structures existed for all affected populations as they arrived at their chosen resettlement and return sites? In what state was the social, economic and psychological fabric of those communities that remained – and survived? Tentative answers to these questions will be provided in the pages below, focusing on three of the worst affected provinces in Angola – the provinces of Huambo, Bié and Huíla, chosen by the authors to conduct field research. 5 According to data provided by Angolan provincial governments in a meeting on 10 June 2002, more than four million people were displaced by the war. If we bear in mind that Angola had, at the time, an estimated 13 million people (of which 60 percent lived in urban areas), the challenges and impact of resettlement and return emerges. 6 These norms defined a number of pre-conditions necessary for resettlement and return, including the establishment of security at local level, access (for example, mine clearance), a functioning state administration, availability of land, water and basic sanitation and health facilities.

Demilitarization in the Angolan Context

37

DDR in a War to Peace Transition: The Luena Process Thefirst steps towards demilitarization (cantonment, disarmament and demobilization) of UNITA’s Military Forces (FMU) began during April 2002 with the setting-up of 27 quartering areas scattered throughout the country. As mentioned earlier, the government of Angola (through the FAA) retained total control of the disarmament and demobilization process as well as the responsibility for its financing. A product of the specific circumstances of the war’s ending, the government’s exclusive control and financing of the process further distinguishes this process from previous attempts at DDR in the country, as well as contemporary DDR programs in other African countries (for example Liberia, Burundi, DRC). No provision for formal third-party monitoring was included in the MoU, although the Troika (Portugal, Russia, and the United States) and the United Nations were invited as observers (Gomes Porto and Parsons 2003, 32). Two structures were created to oversee the DDR process. A Joint Military Commission (JMC), presided over by a military representative of the government and composed of the chiefs of staff of the FAA and the FMU (as well as 11 UN Military Observers), was responsible for overseeing and promoting the application of the MoU. A Technical Group (TG) was tasked with the responsibility of assisting the JMC in the performance of its duties, including the drawing-up of detailed timetables and the definition of specific activities to be carried out. The (FAA) were tasked with the management of the quartering, disarmament and demobilization of the FMU in what can only be described as a very ambitious timeframe – a mere 80 days for the completion of the DD of 50,000 UNITA combatants in 27 quartering areas. As the movement of FMU combatants towards the quartering areas intensified in the proceeding months, it became increasingly obvious that the initial time-frame would need constant revision and updating. In fact, 100 days into the process, by the end of July 2002, a staggering 85,585 ex-FMU were quartered in an expanded number of quartering areas (35). In addition, in what represented another departure from “conventional” DDR programs, the government allowed former combatants’ families to gather in “family reception areas.” By the end of July 2002, 280,261 FMU family members had gathered in “satellite” family reception areas (as can be seen in the graph below). The commitments made in the Luena MoU, and the subsequent plans and timetables for a case-load of 50,000 former combatants, were subject to continuous revision and negotiation between the government and UNITA’s Management Commission (the movement’s temporary leadership structure). Internal and international pressure for the swift implementation of the DDR program (which would represent unquestionable evidence of an end to war and a successful demilitarization of Angola) led to the announcement of the extinction of the FMU during August 2002. A mere four months into the DDR process, the Joint Military Commission announced that the demobilization and disarmament components had been completed, as well as the integration of approximately 5,000 former UNITA combatants into FAA structures.

From Soldiers to Citizens

38

Figure 2.2

Evolution of the quartering process to July 2002

Data based on press statements by the Joint Military Commission.

The political symbolism of the extinction of the FMU notwithstanding, the process was in fact far from complete – several thousand combatants and their family members continued to arrive at quartering and family reception areas. In fact, by 18 February 2003, only five quartering areas had effectively been closed and the official figures released by the Ministry of Assistance and Social Reintegration (MINARS) at that time pointed to a total number of resettled and returned former combatants of only 22,643 and 70,694 family members. Moreover, at the time the FMU was declared extinct, demobilization (which in this case included “registration and distribution of identification documents, data collection, pre-discharge information, medical screening and transport home”) was just about to begin. This was confirmed by a World Bank-led mission to Angola during August 2002, which highlighted that the registration of ex-combatants and the production of demobilized ID cards were still underway while the collection of socio-economic data in 24 of 35 quartering areas had just begun (World Bank (B) 2002). A similar picture characterized the disarmament of the FMU, which can partially be seen in the table below. As pointed out at the time by the World Bank, International observers from the Troika indicated relative satisfaction with disarmament of FMU. In total some 30,000 small arms were collected – proportionate, according to some observers, to actual number of active FMU at the time of the cease-fire agreement.

Demilitarization in the Angolan Context

39

The Troika also reported that FMU has cooperated in identifying large weapons caches which in some instances have been destroyed in situ. Verification of disarmament activities has been undertaken to the extent possible although UN military observers have had a very limited role in the verification to date (World Bank (B) 2002).

However, a UK Department for International Development (DFID) mission report pointed out that although the overall man to weapon ratio was considered satisfactory, “given the strong command and control structures within UNITA/FMU, which had submitted itself by units as opposed to individuals, there would be a need at some point to review rations as well as the quality of weapons submitted. There is a possibility that not all weapons were collected from the combatants with many weapons in the civilian population” (DFID A 2002, 20). This is an issue that warrants further research, partly because as noted in the previous chapter, DDR processes are usually not sufficient to reduce the number of arms in circulation in post-conflict environments, and partly because they often do not deal with arms in the hands of civilian populations – a particularly serious problem in Angola. Table 2.1

Disarmament of UNITA: Weapons handed over as of 22 May 2002

Data provided by the Joint Military Commission.

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From Soldiers to Citizens

Former combatants and their families continued to require emergency support well into 2003. This effort, as noted elsewhere, was undertaken by the FAA directly towards former combatants, and by the World Food Program (WFP) and international and local NGOs as regards assistance to family members – through the distribution of food, non-food items, seeds and tools, family tracing, and reunification, and so on (Gomes Porto and Parsons 2003, 35). By April 2003, there were still 11 gathering areas and UN agencies and NGOs reported difficulties, particularly in the highland provinces of the country, as regards the provision of basic supplies and services in the transit areas created to assist the resettlement process. By February 2003, emergency reinsertion support had been given to a total of 71,000 former combatants (equivalent to five months of salary). Yet, because of repeated delays in their resettlement and return, this money was spent in and around the quartering and transit areas, with little or no significance as regards former combatants’ reintegration. In addition, and for more than a year after that, ex-combatants continued to return to their areas of origin or chose to establish residence in new areas. Data from February 2004 points to the registration of approximately 98,252 post-Luena excombatants at MINARS provincial offices. Of these, 45,065 had received resettlement kits, 30,278 had received the emergency reinsertion subsidy (subsídio de contingência) while 5,775 had been employed in the formal and informal sectors, and 3,007 had received training through government efforts (World Bank 2004).7 Implementation of socio-economic reintegration programs has, since then, proceeded at a limited pace. It has been hampered by a lack of funds and institutional capacity, the sheer scale of the problem as well as the inability of government institutions and international partners to agree on a timely reintegration program that would closely follow resettlement and return. While negotiations with international financial institutions for technical and monetary support, in particular the World Bank, had begun in mid-2002, it was only on 27 March 2003 that the Bank’s Board of Directors approved the Angola Demobilization and Reintegration Program (ADRP). This emergency program (initially worth an estimated US$180 million but by September 2004 estimated at US$230 million) was designed to assist more than 100,000 ex-UNITA combatants and approximately 33,000 FAA personnel. Of the $180 million, the Bank pledged and began to disburse US$33 million (through the IDA) and US$53 million (through the MDRP’s Multi-Donor Trust Fund); the government pledged US$127 million and the European Commission an additional US$17 million. DDR in Angola: A Long and Complex History While this is the first time that large-scale return of IDPs has taken place in Angola, the current disarmament, demobilization and reintegration process is the third in Angola’s history. In fact, not only is the country faced with the task of reintegrating 7 The report notes that “this number represents 1,116 more ex-combatants than are confirmed by the FAA, which IRSEM attributes to double registrations at provincial offices that will be cleared up when the information is recorded in IRSEM’s database” (World Bank 2004).

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41

the current caseload of demobilized soldiers, it also faces the challenge of completing the reintegration of an estimated 160,000 former soldiers from two prior DDR processes: the first of which followed the signature of the 1991 Bicesse Peace Accords, and the second which followed the signature of the 1994 Lusaka Protocol. This chapter will conclude with a brief analysis of the long and complex history of DDR in Angola as the current process builds on the institutions and some (but not all) of the lessons learned in those two previous attempts. The first comprehensive peace agreements between the government of Angola and UNITA, the Bicesse Peace Accords signed in May 1991, contained the origins of the DDR structures still in place today. The accords stipulated the creation of a 50,000 strong joint armed forces, the quartering of both UNITA and government troops, and the demobilization of surplus UNITA troops. From an estimated total of 200,000 men in arms on both sides, the new Angolan Armed Forces (FAA) would be composed of 20,000 soldiers from the FAPLA (the government’s army), and 20,000 from FALA (UNITA’s army) as well as by an Air Force of 6,000 and a Navy of 4,000. Moreover, and on a political level, the realization of multi-party elections in September 2002 was made dependent on the formation of the FAA. In institutional terms, the Bicesse Accords established three “joint commissions” in order to oversee and verify the process, built around the Joint Political-Military Commission (CCPM),8 which was composed of the Government and UNITA, with the Troika (Portugal, Russia and the United States) solely as observers.9 A new intersectoral body, the Interministerial Office to Support the Demobilized Military of Angola (GIAMDA), was created on 15 November 1991 by presidential decree with the aim of establishing a broad program for reintegration of former combatants. Supporting structures in the provinces were then established to coordinate the DDR process. The role of external actors other than the Troika was extremely limited. The signatories of the Bicesse Accords decided to extend the United Nations’ presence in Angola, UNAVEM I,10 under a renewed mandate. In response to a formal request from Angola for United Nations’ participation, the UN Secretary General reported to the Security Council and proposed that the existing mandate of UNAVEM I be expanded to include verification of the cease-fire and neutrality of the Angolan police. On 30 May 1991, the Security Council adopted resolution 696 establishing UNAVEM II.11 While having a new mandate that included overseeing implementation of the 8 The other two were the Joint Verification and Monitoring Commission (CMVF); and the Joint Commission on the Formation of the Angolan Armed Forces (CCFA). 9 As Margaret Anstee points out, “the CCPM was to be the apex of a complex network of joint monitoring mechanisms at every level, in every region, and on every subject germane to the Peace Accords … in keeping with the concept that responsibility for implementing the Peace Accords lay with the Angolans, the only full members of the CCPM were to be representatives of the government and UNITA, and meetings were to be presided over alternately by each side with decisions taken by consensus” (Anstee 1996, 11–12). 10 The first United Nations Angola Verification Mission, UNAVEM I, had been created in order to oversee the withdrawal of Cuban troops from Angola, a process which lasted from 1989 to 1991. 11 United Nations Security Council Resolution 696, 30 May 1991.

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various provisions of the Accords, including organizing the elections, responsibility for compliance lay firmly with the two parties. As a result, UNAVEM II’s power to intervene in the process was severely limited, being restricted to a supervisory role. In addition, the United Nations’ abilities were limited by the lack of adequate resources, with an initial budget of only $132 million for a seventeen-month period and a staff component of only 350 military observers and 126 police observers.12 Margaret Anstee, United Nations’ Special Representative during the Bicesse process, has famously compared this lack of resources to being asked to fly “a 747 with the fuel for a DC-10.”13 Moreover, Anstee notes that “adopting a myopic approach to UN peacekeeping, the Security Council gave UNAVEM II a mandate and resources that absurdly underestimated the enormity and complexity of the tasks that lay ahead … UNAVEM II was a misguided exercise in peace-keeping minimalism” (Ansteee 1996, 13). As a consequence, the disarmament, demobilization and reintegration process under the Bicesse Accords did not proceed smoothly. Although rapid demobilization was called for, the accords did not allow sufficient time for proper planning and implementation. In fact, partly a consequence of technical failures in the accords, particularly as regards independent monitoring activities, partly a result of the intransigence of both parties, secret armies were maintained in violation of the Accords (Vines 1998, 15). Quartering and registration of both government and UNITA troops was never completed and it is not known exactly what UNITA’s fighting strength was, since, although it claimed force levels in the region of 75,000, this number may have been inflated for strategic reasons. In addition, of those that did register, a significant number were believed to be outside normal fighting age as well as unarmed. As noted in Chapter 1 above, hedging strategies such as these have been noted in a number of DDR processes where parties reserve their best troops and weapons to the very end of the process. On the government side, a significant number of troops either “self-demobilized” after registration or went AWOL. In fact, over 12,000 government troops are believed to have gone missing from October 1991 to February 1992 (Sogge 1992).14 The slow rate of disarmament observed during the Bicesse process may be an indication of both a lack of seriousness or confidence between the belligerents as well as a reluctance to hand over weapons which could be sold for profit in a situation characterized by a lack of employment opportunities (Saferworld 1996).15 12 The extent to which UNAVEM II had limited resources for the tasks at hand can be assessed in comparison with the UN presence in Namibia, UNTAG, which cost $383m for a 12 month period, in a country with a significantly smaller population. In fact, the ratio of UN personnel to population for UNTAG was 1:150, whereas for UNAVEM II it was 1:16 000 (Saferworld 1996). 13 Financial Times, 11 May 1992. 14 In this regard Sogge claims government troops probably left due to lack of pay and food supplies in the camps whereas UNITA were more likely to stay due to the presence of their families and children nearby. 15 Nevertheless, an important achievement during the Bicesse negotiations had been the acceptance by both sides as well as the Troika of observer countries of the so-called “triplezero” clause – parties agreed on restraining from acquiring lethal material, and the United

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43

Due to the lack of resources, a “double-key system” was never introduced (which could have guaranteed that arms were stored in a safe place, one key remaining in local hands and the other with the United Nations), contributing to the difficulties in verifying disarmament. In fact, on the government side many of the troops that “self-demobilized” took their weapons with them when they left, resulting in a rise in incidents of banditry and crime in particular in areas around the camps. Demobilization of troops did not, in the end, begin until almost a year after the signature of the Accords, in March 1992.16 Nevertheless, because the formation of joint armed forces was one of the pre-conditions for elections, the parties went ahead and nominally created the FAA on 27 September 1992, just two days before elections were held. As Margaret Anstee points out, Slow demobilisation and the formation of the new armed forces led to the spectre of there being not one, but three armies in place at the time of the election. This combined with the proliferation of weapons among the civilian population, the decline in law and order, and the slow progress in extending the central administration, added up to a very grim prospect (Anstee 1996, 56).

The experience of Bicesse was a painful one, but one with many important lessons. The first of these relates to the critical need to allow for sufficient time for planning and implementation – in the headlong rush to create the new Angolan Armed Forces and thereby comply with one of the conditions for elections to be held, the demobilization and disarmament process was neglected and UNITA was able to easily return to war. The Bicesse collapse also revealed the importance of the provision of appropriate assistance in the quartering areas as lack of pay and poor conditions led to the mass self-demobilization of government troops. Moreover, this highlighted that sufficient resources must be allocated in support of DDR. Not having participated in the negotiations leading to the signature of the 1991 Bicesse Peace Accords, and severely limited in its mandate and resources, UNAVEM II was unable to enforce compliance with disarmament and demobilization and persuade the parties not to return to war. Ultimately, and at a political level, the collapse of the Bicesse process showed that “winner-takes-all” formulas and rushed election processes are tremendously risky endeavors. When the Lusaka Protocol was signed in November 1994, after two years of high intensity conflict, a new framework for DDR was developed. Moreover, the drafting States and the Soviet Union agreed to cease all supplies and encourage other countries to do likewise. 16 Furthermore, although the parties revised the initial projection of their combined total troop strength to 151,930, by 12 February 1992 only 61 percent of troops were quartered, corresponding to 50.44 percent of government troops and 93.75 percent of UNITA troops. Because quartering and registration had not been completed, of the 25,000 UNITA troops scheduled for demobilization only 10,402 had been demobilized by September 1992 when elections were due. On the government’s side, 123,887 FAPLA troops had been demobilized in total. Those soldiers that were demobilized received a package including money to the value of about $100 (equivalent to five months salary) and a clothing kit. UNITA combatants were demobilized directly, without first being incorporated into the existing FAPLA since the objective was the creation of unified Angolan Armed Forces.

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From Soldiers to Citizens

process had taken note of some of the failings of Bicesse as discussed above, and attempts were made at remedying them. In fact, the Lusaka Protocol reaffirmed the need to resume the Bicesse process (albeit under different conditions and timeframes) and set forth the details of a ceasefire, a second round of presidential elections, demilitarization, disarmament and the formation of a unified army and national police forces. This time however, the United Nations was involved in (in fact led) the negotiations, and an expanded mission, UNAVEM III, was created by Security Council resolution 976/1995 in February 1995. The timeframe for the process was more flexible, with no firm date set for the 2nd round of Presidential elections. More importantly was that a power-sharing system was devised and agreed to by the parties, whereby members of the government and UNITA would form a Government of Unity and National Reconciliation (GURN). UNAVEM III was given a twoyear mandate which included a formal role in overseeing the demobilization and integration of the armed forces, and responsibility for decreeing when the conditions were appropriate for elections to be held. It was given over 7,000 peace-keeping troops in addition to 350 military observers and 260 police observers. UNAVEM III also had an expanded role within the DDR process, with representatives and peace-keeping troops in each assembly area as well as responsibility for troop registration and disarmament, camp coordination and production of demobilization documentation. United Nations’ agencies as well as various NGOs were also present in many assembly areas and assisted in the process. A number of new government institutions (still in existence today) were created to oversee and implement the DDR process. In place of GIAMDA, a new body was created, the Institute for the Socio-Professional Reintegration of Ex-Military Personnel (IRSEM), under the Ministry for Reinsertion and Social Assistance (MINARS). 17 A Joint Commission was again formed, consisting of Government and UNITA as well as a representative of the United Nations, Alioune Blondin Beye who had been the principal mediator of the Lusaka Protocol.18 As regards quartering and registration, the Lusaka Protocol established a minimum number of soldiers to be quartered by UNITA, some 62,500. They were to be gathered in 15 Assembly Areas, later renamed “Selection and Demobilization 17 IRSEM: Instituto de Reintegração Sócio-Profissional dos Ex-Militares is the government’s agency in charge of the demobilization and reintegration of ex-combatants. It was created by decree in 1995, replacing the Gabinete Inter-Ministerial de Apoio aos Desmobilizados das Forças Armadas (GIANDA) formed in response to the provisions of the Bicesse Peace Accords of 1991. It responds to MINARS (Ministério da Assistencia e Reinserção Social). IRSEM board of directors is composed of members of FAA and UNITA (one deputy director). During the initial phase of implementation of the Lusaka Protocol, IRSEM (with support from UNDP, OIM, GTZ and others) took responsibility for implementing a number of projects and activities in the areas of vocational training, infrastructure, community resettlement, and micro-credit. Its projects have had limited impact. 18 A technical working group was created to supervise and advise on the disarmament, demobilization and reintegration process, as well as in the creation of the joint armed forces. Meetings of this group were also attended by UN agencies and NGOs as appropriate to the discussions, allowing a broader dialogue to take place. See Lusaka Protocol, Annex 4, Section III.

Demilitarization in the Angolan Context

45

Centres,” where UNAVEM III would assume responsibility for disarming them. There were a further 5 War-Disabled Centres, which were eventually included in the demobilization process for logistical reasons.19 Nevertheless, DDR proceeded slowly, with UNITA suspending its participation in the process in December 1995 in protest at the government’s seizure of UNITAheld territory. As noted by Alex Vines, During the Lusaka process, the quartering and reintegration process was also slow. The operation only started in earnest in February 1996. It was incomplete and involved few key UNITA troops; conversely many in camps were civilians (Vines, 1998, 9).

Although this time the timeframe allowed for increased flexibility, it has been argued that this was taken advantage of by UNITA, allowing it to regroup and rearm, and in fact contributed to the resumption of war in 1998. In early 1996 diplomatic pressure was applied by the Portuguese President, Mário Soares, and US Ambassador to the United Nations, Madeleine Albright, with the result that Savimbi promised to increase the pace of quartering and there was a temporary increase in the number of troops registering (Saferworld 1996). By July 1996, when the new joint army was officially sworn in, 70,600 had been quartered, but it is believed that many were not in fact soldiers but had been conscripted to make up numbers, and a high proportion were underage or disabled (4,799 and 10,728 respectively, barely short of the eventual totals demobilized).20 Disarmament under the Lusaka Protocol was a critical issue, perhaps more so than during the Bicesse process. In fact, when war resumed in 1992, both parties abandoned the “triple zero clause” with the result that weapons procurement skyrocketed on both sides.21 Even so, disarmament of UNITA troops under Lusaka was a highly ineffective procedure, with a high proportion of weapons unserviceable or in poor condition. No heavy weaponry was handed in, and it was clear that UNITA was maintaining significant arms supplies. As part of the Lusaka Protocol, the government was also required to disarm the civilian population it had distributed weapons to in 1992. As fighting resumed following UNITA’s rejection of the election results, up to a million AK-47s were handed out in Luanda alone, and few had been recovered. Furthermore, despite the stipulation in the Lusaka Protocol that neither side was to

19 Each assembly area contained a United Nations Administrative Centre and United Nations Troops, and a representative from UCAH who was responsible for the coordination of camp management, registration of UNITA soldiers and production of demobilization documentation. Included in the registration process was the collection of socio-economic data such as family size and intended destination. Fortnightly head-counts were used for monitoring of soldiers’ movements and for updating information. 20 Registration and disarmament of residual UNITA personnel finished on 22 December 1997, with a total of 78,886 registered, of which 8,607 were underage and 11,051 disabled. Of these around 26,000 “deserted,” either during the headcount or demobilization itself. 21 For example, without the need to comply with the “triple zero clause,” the government greatly strengthened its armed forces with the purchase of close to $3.5 billion worth of arms and ammunition, as well as commissioning the retraining of its armed forces and critical support services to Executive Outcomes, a security firm based in Pretoria.

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From Soldiers to Citizens

rearm (Annex 3, Section IV) the government received weapons including tanks and artillery in May 1995, believed to represent purchases made since Lusaka (Vines 1998). UNITA similarly continued to receive supplies and weapons via Zaire and Congo-Brazzaville in particular. Although demobilization had been planned in two phases, first the demobilization of underage soldiers and then of adult soldiers (both able-bodied and disabled), in practice the two frequently took place side by side. The majority were demobilized under a Rapid Demobilization Plan finally agreed upon by the Joint Commission after a number of drafts and revisions in 1996 and early 1997. While the Lusaka Protocol had specified a number of changes from Bicesse in order to minimize the risks associated with rapid demobilization, a number of these were now deemed impractical and abandoned.22 For example, although the normalization of state administration was to have been completed before demobilization could begin, it became clear that this was not practical and a phased plan was introduced instead. By May 1998 a total of almost 50,000 UNITA troops had been demobilized, of which 5,059 were underage and 10,771 disabled. This was out of a total of 76,360 troops registered as eligible for demobilization, however, after the incorporation of 10,880 into the FAA, meaning an excess of over 25,000 remained. The joint army was sworn in on 10 July 1996. The process was beset with difficulties, with demobilization taking place on the basis of a final headcount, two weeks before “demobilization day.”23 UNITA frequently interrupted and delayed the process simply refusing to go ahead with demobilization. At the same time reports emerged that UNITA was regrouping, forcibly recruiting and even training in Jamba. Attacks frequently put down to bandits escalated in 1998, and human rights abuses and revenge attacks by both sides were common (Howen 2001). In addition, the resettlement and reintegration of demobilized soldiers was a complex procedure, involving an array of government, UNITA, UN agencies and NGOs. This helped to address concerns about the government’s capacity to implement such a complex program, but the difficulties of coordination frequently led to delays and confusion.24 Furthermore, because resettlement assistance was 22 It had initially been decided that all UNITA troops to be demobilized would first be incorporated into the FAA, and the precise numbers for incorporation or demobilization determined later. In the event, surplus UNITA troops were demobilized directly, without passing through the FAA. 23 Soldiers not present were to be considered deserters and not eligible for benefits, although this rule was relaxed in some places. It seems that after the repeated delays many had not really believed this time it was real, and were instead working in the fields they had begun to cultivate around the camps. Around 26,000 UNITA soldiers were eventually registered as deserters. See IOM 1997. 24 Upon leaving the camps soldiers were issued with travel cards (by the International Organization for Migration, IOM), demobilization cards (FAA), benefit cards (Unit for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, UCAH), subsidies (IRSEM), reintegration kits (IOM), a kit supplied by the Government of Portugal, a World Food Program food ration and assistance in returning to a destination of their choice. This assistance was provided to 40,631 UNITA ex-soldiers and 107,197 dependents, and 4,181 resettlement kits were also provided to families of UNITA troops incorporated into FAA.

Demilitarization in the Angolan Context

47

classified as a benefit, and not as a right, soldiers were not able to change their minds about their destinations after the final headcount, unless the destination happened to fall along the same route. On the day of demobilization many soldiers attempted to change their destinations, often seemingly under coercion from UNITA (IOM 1997). Payment of “special subsidies for assistance and reintegration” (SEAR), was a further problem, beset with difficulties such as bad management of funds coupled with fraud. At the end of 1998, when war officially resumed, only around 60 percent of demobilized soldiers had received the second payment and only 25 percent the third and final payment (UNDP 1999). Reintegration programs were designed on the basis of socio-economic surveys carried out by UCAH (Humanitarian Assistance Coordination Unit) at the time of Bicesse and the very early stages of the Lusaka process. These socio-economic surveys produced an “average soldier” profile as follows: A man between 25 and 30 years old, with 4–5 years schooling, literate and able to speak Portuguese. Although from a rural background, where he or she attended school, many had travelled to the city prior to military service. This mobility continued in the army. During the 8–12 years of service in the army, the average soldier would have been stationed in various provinces and have come into contact with people of various ethnic backgrounds (UCAH/DRO A 1995).

However, this survey related only to Government troops, and the first survey to cover both Government and UNITA was published only in 1995 (UCAH/DRO A). The socio-economic profile of ex-combatants during the Lusaka process can be seen in Figure 2.3 below:

Figure 2.3

Ex-combatant socio-economic profile (Lusaka Process)

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From Soldiers to Citizens

When asked to prioritize reintegration programs, the first priority of both FAA and UNITA demobilized combatants was training and education (43 percent and 52 percent respectively). UCAH warned, however, that “the myth that training and education can solve all problems that demobilised soldiers will face during reintegration is slowly becoming established and could possibly lead to the creation of unrealistic expectations not only among demobilised soldiers but also among Government Officials, UN agencies, NGOs or any other organisation involved in the demobilisation process” (UCAH/DRO B 1995). However, training did form the backbone of the plans for reintegration.25 The majority of projects never materialized, however, due to the resumption of war in 1998. Finally, and although expected to complete its mission and leave Angola by February 1997, UNAVEM III was later given a phased withdrawal, as it became clear that the process was not proceeding as smoothly as had been anticipated. In fact, at a cost of as much as $1million a day, UNAVEM III was deemed unsustainable and ineffective and peace-keeping troops were gradually withdrawn. As of July 1997, UNAVEM III was replaced by the more modest United Nations Mission of Observers in Angola (MONUA). When war officially resumed at the end of 1998, the United Nations Security Council announced the termination of MONUA’s mandate effective from February 1999. In October that year a new presence was established, the United Nations Office in Angola (UNOA), with a mandate “to explore effective measures for restoring peace, assist the Angolan people in the area of capacity building, humanitarian assistance, the promotion of human rights and coordinate other activities.”

25 Three major training actions were agreed upon: the “Community Counselling and Referral Service for Demobilized Soldiers (SeCoR)”; the “Training for Self-Employment for Ex-Military Personnel from Angola (TSE)”; and finally, the “Community Based Quick Impact Project (QIPs).” SeCoR and QIPs were the responsibility of UNDP while TSE was to be handled by UNDP and ILO. An additional alternative strategy was the creation of “work brigades,” known as the “Quarto Ramo,” or fourth brigade of the Armed Forces. This was dedicated to reconstruction projects such as roads and bridges, and intended to provide economic and practical training opportunities for demobilized soldiers as well as providing a readily available workforce for construction and infrastructure projects of this kind. It was an expensive project, however, and the political implications for UNITA of having its people seemingly degraded in this way were too great for Savimbi to agree to it.

Chapter 3

Epicenters of Emergency, State Weakness and Decay: The Local Context Introduction Deeply embedded in the social, political, economic and historical context of post-conflict situations, DDR processes must therefore be understood in relation to the specific environment in which they are implemented. This environment determines to a large extent what is possible and what is not, why developments follow a certain path rather than a different one and how effective certain activities are as opposed to others.1

In Chapter 1, we noted that in transitions from war to peace, state weakness and state failure characterize the very context where DDR programs are often deployed – a context of poverty and vulnerability equally experienced by all other affected groups. In the pages above, we emphasized that understanding the conditions that pertain in many war to peace transitions at local and community level – particularly as regards security, basic service provision, presence of state administration, infrastructure, opportunity structures, and social capital – may temper our enthusiasm for smooth “normalization” processes. In these contexts of devastation (the cases of Liberia, Burundi, eastern DRC and, as will be discussed in this chapter, Angola, come to mind) resettling former combatants and displaced civilians back into poverty may risk recreating the very conditions at the basis of conflict in the first place. In this chapter, the authors will introduce the local context of emergency and state decay that characterized the three provinces chosen for field research. As noted, Huambo, Bié and Huíla experienced some of the fiercest fighting and bore the brunt of resettlement and return movements experienced in the immediate post-war period with a significant proportion of former combatants demobilized and resettled in these provinces. Additional details will also be given on the sites where survey research, key informant interviews and focus group discussions were conducted by the authors. With an area of 1,246,700 square kilometres, Angola is divided into eighteen administrative provinces with Luanda as the capital city. To the north of Cabinda province, the country borders Congo-Brazzaville; to the north and east the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC); to the east Zambia and to the south

1

Gomes Porto and Parsons 2002, 6.

From Soldiers to Citizens

50 2

Namibia. Although a population census has not been undertaken since 1995 (when an estimated 11 million people were said to live in the country), the World Bank estimated Angola’s population at 13.5 million in 2003. In the 1995 census, the breakdown of the population pointed to 49.3 percent men and 50.7 percent women, of which 32 percent lived in urban areas. At that time, Luanda was thought to contain approximately 3 million people. Portuguese is the official language but several other national languages are widely spoken: Umbundo, Kimbundo, Kikongo, Chokwe, Nhanheca, Gangela, and other Bantu-group languages. Angola’s climate is characterized as tropical and humid in the north, subtropical with lower rainfall in the south – temperatures are usually lower and rainfall higher in the central plateau than in the coastal lowlands. The rainy season lasts from October to April and the dry season from May to September. While DDR programs were implemented in fifteen provinces in Angola, a significant proportion of former combatants were demobilized and resettled in the central plateau provinces of Huambo, Bié, and Huíla – 46,940 out of a total of 103,928, representing roughly 45 percent of the total.3 A key area of UNITA support and recruitment throughout the various cycles of war, these provinces experienced some of the fiercest fighting and bore the brunt of resettlement and return movements experienced in the immediate post-war period. As a result, these three provinces were chosen by the authors for survey collection and field research. As will be discussed below, there are strong socio-economic similarities between these three provinces. Before the war, all three were characterized by a commercial agricultural system revolving around the production of maize, beans, coffee, vegetables, and cattle farming.4 All three suffered the catastrophic consequences of nearly three decades of civil war and unrealistic economic policies during the country’s single-party era. Over the years, commercial agricultural production has collapsed and is now limited to subsistence farming. Although Huíla Province (located at the edge of the highlands plateau in the southeast) and in particular its capital Lubango, suffered less direct infrastructural damage than its neighbors, the province was severely affected by the arrival of thousands of IDPs throughout the civil war, seeking shelter in its urban and peri-urban areas. Huambo Province With an area of 32,570 square kilometers, Huambo Province is divided into 11 municipalities, 37 communes and 3,056 villages. Altitudes vary from 1,750m in Huambo’s plains to 1,830m in the municipality of Chicala Cholohanga and the west of the province is a mountainous area with peaks as high as 2,620m above sea 2 See Map 1: Angola Political Map in Appendix 1 at the end of this volume. 3 As of August 2004, Bié Province had registered 14,051 demobilized combatants; Huambo Province 24,881 and Huíla Province 8,008. Data provided to the authors by the representative of IRSEM during a workshop convened in Johannesburg during September 2004 with the aim of discussing the findings with Angolan partners. 4 In fact, all areas surveyed in this project are part of Agricultural Zone VII as defined in the government’s strategy for support to social reinsertion (MINARS/WB A 2002).

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level in the “Morro dos Moros.” Several important rivers have their origins in this province, namely the Queve (with a basin of 23,000km2), the Cunene (with a basin of 8,600 km2), the Cutato, and the Cubango. Huambo city, capital of Huambo province, is located at the heart of the central highlands. During the colonial period and in the immediate aftermath of decolonization, “Nova Lisboa” (as Huambo was then named) was a city of considerable economic and strategic importance – in fact, and for a time, the colonizers debated whether or not to grant it the status of capital of Angola. Huambo city remains one of the largest cities in Angola, with an estimated population of 750–900,000 people, close to half of the province’s total population.5 At the time of this research, Huambo city was acutely run down with no mains water supply and very weak and sporadic electricity supply (mostly switched on in the evening). Roads within the city were almost as badly maintained as those outside it, and the state of buildings around the city center reflected the intensity of the fighting that took place within it. The province’s population was estimated at 2.3 million by the inter-agency group responsible for food insecurity assessment in the province. The highest concentration of people was found in and around Huambo city and in the Benguela corridor – the area of land that surrounds the (currently inactive) Benguela railway and crosses Huambo from east to west. Although the urban growth rate had been estimated at 12 percent and the rural growth rate at 2 percent in the immediate aftermath of the war, the province experienced an estimated 15 percent population growth in just nine months, from May 2003 to February 2004 (GoA B 2003).6 The people of Huambo are primarily Ovimbundu, the largest of the three principal ethno-linguistic groups of Angola. The province, one of the most contested regions during the 27-year civil war, was a UNITA stronghold with both strategic and symbolic importance. The MPLA pushed the FNLA/UNITA out of Huambo city in 1975, and would remain in control of it until 1993 following UNITA’s rejection of the results of the 1992 elections and the resumption of armed conflict – which at that time shifted from guerrilla “hit-and-run” tactics to conventional attacks to control urban areas (later termed the “war of the cities” phase). While under government control the city was relatively stable, the resumption of war in 1992 had a severe impact on Huambo’s population. The city was taken by UNITA in early January 1993 after the so-called “55-day war,” which saw fighting in the heart of the city itself. Although frequently bombed and attacked by government forces, UNITA managed to hold the city until 1994, when, between the initialing and official signature of the Lusaka Protocol in November 1994, the FAA pushed ahead and retook Huambo. This was widely seen as a violation of the spirit, if not the letter, of the 1994 Lusaka Protocol, causing tensions which revealed themselves as the Lusaka process began to fall apart.7 One of the sticking points 5 Although informal estimates put it as low as a quarter to a third of a million, the estimate of between 750,000 and 800,000 was provided to the authors in an interview with the UN’s OCHA in Huambo during January 2004. The estimate of 903,375 was provided by the Provincial Group for the Assessment of Vulnerability in Huambo. 6 See also GPAV C 2004. 7 For an insider’s discussion of the Lusaka Peace Process see Hare 1998.

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was the administration of Huambo, with UNITA insisting on its right to govern Huambo since it had won the 1992 elections in the province and the government refusing to allow this. From then on, the province was divided between government and UNITA control, with the lines of control moving repeatedly. Government control was concentrated around the city and the Benguela corridor, where much of the population was located. Bailundo, in the mid/north of Huambo province was Jonas Savimbi’s base for most of the 1994–1998 period. Agriculture, trade and transport within the province were thus heavily disrupted and most of the fazendas (commercial farms) were abandoned, as will be discussed below. Once a relatively prosperous province, seen (if not entirely accurately) as the breadbasket of Angola, Huambo’s population reverted to predominantly subsistence agriculture, growing maize and limited quantities of beans, fruit and vegetables. Following the resumption of war in December 1998, Huambo again came under fire, with sporadic shelling until January 1999 and again in June of that year. High levels of population displacement ensued with an estimated 17 percent of the province’s residents fleeing their homes. If unable to make their way to Luanda, Lobito or Lubango, displaced people sought safety in urban and peri-urban areas within the province (adding to the concentration of displaced people already experienced in Huambo, Caála, Londuimbale, Bailundo, and Ukuma). This concentration of displacement has, over the years, contributed to serious environmental degradation. Of note is the destruction of natural forests around the edges of urban areas, particularly in Huambo city during the years of war. Between May 2003 and February 2004, return movements for the province totalled 14,099 people as can be seen in the table below, which details return totals by municipality:

Table 3.1 GoA B 2003, 5.

Population return – Huambo Province (May 2003–February 2004)

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Provincial government is composed of the governor and 3 vice-governors (and their respective technical teams), as well as 12 provincial directors.8 In Angola, the nomination of Provincial governors and vice-governors remains the responsibility of the President; municipal and communal administrators being appointed solely by the provincial government – in most cases by the governor. Provincial government relations with central government are channeled through the Ministry for Territorial Administration and, in an ad hoc fashion, directly with the Council of Ministers. On specific areas and issues, however, provincial governments relate on a bilateral basis with sectoral ministries. Municipal and communal administrations represent (where they exist) the most immediate face of the state for the majority of Angolans. They are tasked with performing a variety of administrative functions – including planning, research, social and community services as well as economic coordination in the municipality. Municipal administrations are headed by one administrator and a deputy administrator – and are meant to include a municipal council as well as.9 In terms of development programs, the provincial government is tasked with the coordination of multi-sector programs such as the Public Investment Program (PIP), the Rehabilitation Support Program (PAR) financed by the European Union, the Community Rehabilitation Program (PRC) and the Social Support Fund (FAS). The former has been pivotal in the rehabilitation of basic social infrastructure in the urban and peri-urban areas of Huambo. In addition, several NGOs and churches have also played a critical role in implementing programs in the areas of health and nutrition, education and training, water and sanitation, agriculture and food security, protection of human rights, and de-mining. During 2003, NGOs began turning their attention to areas outside the provincial capital: 14 of these began work in Caála, 7 in Chicala Cholohanga, 6 in Bailundo, 3 in Chinjenje, and 1 in Mungo (GoA B 2003, 18). According to government data, by mid-2003 state administration had already been established in the 11 municipalities and 37 communes of the province. Yet, we should note that more often than not this was limited to the appointment of a single local administrator (administrador). At the time the government noted that “integrated planning capacity, at both an operational (municipal) and long-term strategic planning level remain fragile. Institutional capacity in the different sectors is in broad terms low … in practice, administrations do not have the capacity to

8 Education; Health; Assistance and Social Reintegration – Former Combatants and War Veterans; Agriculture and Rural Development, Fisheries and Environment; Trade, Industry and Tourism; Public Administration, Employment and Social Security; Energy and Water; Youth and Sport; Public Works, Urbanization and Housing; Media; Transport and Communications; and, finally, Family and Promotion of Women. 9 Provincial government is structured according to Law-decree No 17/99 of 29 October 1999 on the Administrative Reform of the State as well as Decree No 27/00 of 19 May 2000, which provides the regulatory framework for provincial governments as well as that of municipal and communal administrations. See Monteiro and Sousa 2002, 75.

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coordinate, monitor and evaluate the programmes of different implementing agencies” (GoA B 2003, 15).10 During the last quarter of 2004, the partial rehabilitation of the road infrastructure had reconnected Huambo to other provinces in the country – yet, the majority of municipal and intra-municipal roads remained in a very poor state. In this period, accessibility was significantly restricted as a result of mine infestation as well as excessive rainfall which destroyed several bridges and worsened the already precarious state of much of the road infrastructure. In fact, during November 2003 and February 2004, difficult access prevented the provision of emergency food aid to approximately 204,000 people (GoA B 2003, 4). As in all other provinces, subsistence agriculture is widely practiced – to become a viable economic enterprise, commercial agriculture requires substantial inputs (particularly in terms of fertilisers). In addition, the province reveals a strong potential for forestry and orchard cultivation (in particular avocado, passion fruit, and guava), as well as for cattle farming. The total area under cultivation is approximately 502,000 hectares, with an average plot size for subsistence agriculture of 0.8 ha. Although considerably affected by the armed conflict, commercial farming has traditionally been located in Chicala Cholohanga and Ecunha. Excessive and irregular rainfall during the last quarter of 2003 destroyed much of the harvest, worsening the province’s dependence on emergency support from the WFP and other NGOs – a loss of an estimated 60 percent of the province’s maize and 75 percent of its bean cultivations. Although many NGOs had begun to scale back their emergency assistance, the level of vulnerability across the province remained considerable. A significant proportion of the population continued to require humanitarian assistance with approximately 573,000 people requiring food assistance – the number of people considered food insecure actually rose by 133,000 in the five months between October 2003 and February 2004 (GoA B 2003, 9). Official statistics point to a total of 460 commercial registered establishments, 41 markets (of which 29 rural and 12 urban) and 8,900 registered traders. However, a much lower but unspecified number of these were effectively open for business and most commercial activity remained based in and around the provincial capital, Huambo city. It should be noted that although agricultural production was severely affected, inter-provincial trade guaranteed that the prices of the typical food basket remained the same – Huíla and Kwanza Sul provinces providing the bulk of goods to Huambo. Of the 142 factories that operated in the province before 1993, only one (the Coca-Cola factory) operated in 2003. In the two years following the end of armed conflict, only eight professional associations and two national unions (the Angola Industrial Association – AIA, and the Grémio do Milho “Epungo”) were present in the province – if with very limited capacity and often represented by no more than one individual. Banking

10 We should note that although no comprehensive baseline study of human resource capacity had been completed for the province, the government’s Huambo socio-economic profile pointed to the existence of only 50 graduate cadres (all working in the provincial capital) and 400 “technical” cadres in all municipalities (GoA B 2003).

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facilities remained inadequate and concentrated in the provincial capital. Of the 88 health units (seven hospitals, 30 health centers and 51 health posts), most had been destroyed or were in disrepair. The province has 1,246 registered hospital beds (87 percent are in urban areas), an average of one doctor per 111,000 people, and one nurse per 7,392 people in the rural areas. The difficult conditions and lack of infrastructure in the municipalities are largely to blame for the difficulty in attracting doctors and nurses to the rural areas (GoA B 2003). There were 423 registered schools in the province, of which 332 are of Level 1 (primary) – disproportionately concentrated in the municipalities of Huambo and Caála (particularly secondary level). Overall there were 746,000 children of schoolgoing age in 2003 – yet, only 23 percent of all school-aged children attended school in urban areas and only 16 percent in rural areas, according to statistics pertaining to the immediate post-war period in 2002.12 In terms of professional training, the province registered six training centers: one state-owned; four church-owned and one run by an NGO. According to the National Institute for Employment and Professional Training (INEFOP-Instituto Nacional do Emprego e Formação Profissional) 327 people were trained in these centers in the first semester of 2002. Also of interest is the data available on traditional authorities in the province. This will allows us to have a better picture of conditions at the community level relating to, inter alia, social capital and leadership structures. As noted in the pages above, if reintegration is (or should be) primarily a community affair, what role if any can traditional authorities play? At the time of this research, the provincial government was engaged in reorganizing and supporting structures of traditional authority, and in particular the old kingdoms of Bailundo, Huambo, Chingolo, Chiaca, and Sambo noting that “its importance [traditional authority] and potential in linking with rural communities is a function of various factors including the capacity for institutional articulation with modern authorities and its legitimacy vis-a-vis the population, and in particular rural communities” (GoA B 2003, 16). The table below shows a relatively structured network of traditional authorities in the province. During the Luena DDR process, Huambo province had four quartering/gathering areas.13 On 24 July 2002, information provided by the Joint Military Commission (JMC) pointed to a total of 10,650 UNITA combatants in quartering areas, with 50,887 of their family members in family gathering areas. By May 2003, there were still 70,000 people waiting to be transported from the gathering areas of Chiteta, Esfinge, and Sambo, while approximately 2,000 people were living in abandoned buildings in Bailundo and in other areas. By January 2004, the majority of these 11 The “National Entrepreneur Support Fund” (Fundo de Apoio ao Empresariado Nacional – FAEM) and the Economic and Social Development Fund (Fundo de Desenvolvimento Económico e Social – FDES) have offices in the province but were not in operation at the time of the research. The provincial government has a number of micro-financing initiatives such as “Microform” and “Programa Novo Horizonte.” 12 The province has 6,422 teachers, including those teaching in high schools and adult learning centers. 39 percent of the teachers are in rural areas. 13 These were: Esfinge (Bailundo municipality), Chiteta I and II, and Chongolola (Sambo municipality). Menga, while geographically part of Kwanza Sul, was administratively and logistically managed from Huambo.

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Table 3.2

Traditional authorities in Huambo Province

GoA B 2003, 16.

people were believed to have resettled, and NGOs and the WFP had ceased to assist populations in transit.14 The official position on Huambo’s demobilized soldiers was that the group was mainly composed of “rank and file” with a family averaging six people and that “it is a young population, in its productive years, wishing to resettle in a rural area, where most of them come from” (GoA B 2003). In Huambo city the authors conducted interviews with representatives of the Angolan government, including IRSEM personnel and provincial representatives of the Ministry of Reinsertion and Social Assistance (MINARS – Ministério de Acção e Reinserção Social).15 In addition, interviews were conducted with members of local and international NGOs, including the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), WFP, the Agency for Rural Development and the Environment (ADRA), World Vision, Halo Trust, Okutiuka, Save the Children (UK), Caritas, and Solidarités. Focus group discussions and survey collection were undertaken in the urban/periurban areas of Santa-Teresa and Vilinga, both located close to the center of Huambo city. It was considerably more difficult to locate ex-combatants in the urban/periurban areas of Huambo city than in the rural areas surveyed. Former combatants in urban/peri-urban areas seemed more reluctant to be interviewed – perhaps an inherent characteristic of urban areas where levels of anonymity are higher. The 14 We should note that, as was the case in other provinces, the patterns of return and resettlement early on were believed to include the maintenance by IDPs of “dual households” – one in the city and one in a rural area. Consequently, some former IDPs, although nominally returned, had continued to “commute” to urban areas to earn money. 15 For a detailed description of the various government agencies that deal with reintegration of former combatants in Angola see Gomes Porto and Parsons 2003, 19–30.

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assistance of a local Soba as well as the local administrator was engaged to help establish contact with former combatants.16 The estimated population of Santa Teresa was 2,792, a relatively high population density for an area which has historically been sparsely populated. During the war, a considerable number of displaced people found refuge in Santa Teresa and in the “Acumol” IDP camp nearby, but when the war ended the majority of them left. Acumol was then turned into a transit center for demobilized soldiers, thus attracting a new influx of people. Some still remained in the camp at the time of fieldwork, but local leaders were unable to identify how many. There was little displacement from this area during the war – a small number went to Luanda but most have since returned. There was also little population mobility during the war – it is only since 2002 that a few residents have begun to travel to other provinces to trade or to visit family. A number of NGOs were active in Santa Teresa – WFP and the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) in emergency food distribution, and DW, which provided a water point. The MPLA has a representative in the community and contact with the provincial government is mediated through periodic meetings at the local administration. At the time, there was no police presence but the civil defence force was actively deterring crime, especially at night. According to local leaders, community solidarity was considerably weakened by the conflict, as was the case in many other urban areas. Many customs and traditions are no longer practiced even though they were once an important part of community life – dances, other ceremonies used to mark important events such as birth, marriage, and the harvest of crops. In addition, and through a number of key interviews, the authors got the initial impression that the traditional leader (Soba) – once highly respected and all-powerful – was now apparently little respected by the communities. The destruction of the social fabric during decades of civil war, the arrival of “new things and new ways” were considered the main factors in the erosion of the power of traditional leaders. In Huambo, as in most provincial capitals in Angola, the distinction between urban and rural is not clear-cut – yet, efforts were made to remain as true to this distinction as possible. As the data gathered through survey collection will show, a substantial number of people in these apparently urban, built-up areas earn their livelihoods from the cultivation of land around the edges of the city, and levels of engagement in both the formal and informal non-agricultural economy are lower than might be expected in a city.17 While there is considerably more employment available in Huambo than in rural areas, the majority of the population works in the informal sector and many still cultivate small parcels of land, often several 16 Allowing the authors to gather a total of 95 surveys in Huambo’s urban and peri-urban areas of Santa-Teresa and Vilinga. In addition, four focus group discussions were carried out with ex-combatants (broken down by age and rank); two focus groups with women community members; and, finally, an additional three interviews were conducted with local government, the Soba, and a local church leader. 17 This is characteristic of contemporary Angola and is an inbuilt constraint in the dataset.

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kilometers away from their houses. According to the Provincial Group for the Assessment of Vulnerability, Huambo’s urban population’s main sources of food were: market purchases (59 percent), food aid (22 percent) and own production (19 percent). In fact, even for the relatively more urbanized population of Huambo, relying on food aid had become a way of supplementing the meager proceeds of their own agricultural production. Livelihood strategies mirrored this situation of dependency: “in these areas, the diversity of activities used by families to guarantee their livelihoods is visible” including agricultural labor (28 percent); sale of firewood and coal (20 percent); sale of miscellaneous products (28 percent); and sale of wild produce (14 percent). Commercial crops accounted for a mere 9 percent of total income (GPAV C 2004, 8). Located in the municipality of Vila Nova (Tchicala Tcholoanga), the commune of Sambo was chosen for “rural” fieldwork. Sambo is remote from both the provincial and municipal capitals, with difficult access and no major transport routes. Sambo is a particularly remote commune within Vila Nova municipality with little connection to Vila Nova town itself. Access to Sambo is dependent on road conditions and periodically blocked by bridge collapse, excessive mud, or landmines. It can thus be considered authentically “rural” in the sense of offering no real economic opportunities beyond subsistence agriculture and no real major social or economic infrastructure. Sambo had very little in the way of social infrastructure: the entire municipality had only 13 functioning primary schools and by November 2003 there was just a single functioning health post in the entire commune.18 The government maintained a presence in Sambo through the communal administrator. In addition to the government presence, UNITA had set-up a committee in Sambo formed by ex-combatants demobilized in the area. Sambo itself (the “town”) consisted of about 10 buildings, only one or two of which had a functioning roof. There was a minimal market, which sold charcoal and some basic foodstuffs but very little fresh produce. There was also a degree of informal settlement in Sambo, predominantly rural in character with a number of ex-combatants housed in tents, awaiting food distribution, and two large “marquee”-style tents functioning as warehouses for WFP food supplies. There were an estimated 624 demobilized soldiers in Sambo at the time of the research, of a total of 1,657 registered by IRSEM in the municipality of Vila Nova as a whole.19 There had been a quartering area in Sambo, which had an estimated population of 32,000, although it had since closed. There was no concrete data on whether all the demobilized combatants had left, where they went, or how many may have remained in the area.20

18 Data from OCHA. There was some electricity, from a generator switched on for a few hours at night only. 19 Interview, IRSEM, Tchicala Tcholoanga, January 2004. 20 Ex-combatants were interviewed in Sambo during a food distribution activity and in the village of Lombundi, just outside Sambo. While this enabled quick surveying of a large number of ex-combatants, it made strict random sampling impossible and included ex-combatants residing outside Sambo. However, all former combatants interviewed were resident in nearby areas with broadly the same rural characteristics. The assistance of local

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The authors also interviewed former combatants in Lombundi, just outside Sambo. Lombundi is typical of rural settlement in the central highlands – to a degree, the data gathered in Lombundi paints the average picture of “rural” ex-combatants surveyed. Lombundi is in fact an Ombala, a larger grouping of five villages which fall under the traditional authority of the “Soba Grande” – the “head soba” – though each village would have an individual soba, who reports to him. The population mostly lives in small, hand-built houses, occasionally with corrugated iron roofs but mostly thatched. Around these houses are small plots (called Ocumbo) cultivated with crops for sale and household subsistence. Village life revolves around two places: the Onjango, a round building used for community meetings, and the Catholic church, which is probably the most impressive building in the village. There is no health post in Lombundi, and although the government had (at the time of the research) provided teachers, there was no school building – the church doubling up as a school. The Sobas attend regular meetings with the commune administration in Sambo, and there is an MPLA committee in Lombundi itself. The MPLA flag flies in the middle of the village. There is no police or army presence here or nearby, but there is a civil defence force composed of four people, who maintain order (although unarmed). The entire population of this area was displaced in 1998 – some went to Huambo and some to the bush with UNITA. The Soba (head soba) only returned in July 2003, accompanied by a large number of families that had been displaced. Many have not returned at all and the population is significantly lower than before. In addition to those who were displaced and decided not to come back, many have died. The research found a considerable number of residents who were not originally from this community – many former combatants brought back wives from different areas and there was also a small number of displaced families that had come from other areas. A later visit to the province during September 2004 provided additional focus group data, particularly regarding the role of traditional ceremonies in facilitating reintegration into communities, as well as establishing a stronger sense of community perceptions of the ex-soldiers. The first interviews were held at Cantão Pahula, a small settlement (a former IDP and transit camp) along the Lubango road; as well as at the bairro of Santa Teresa and surrounding settlements. Focus group interviews were conducted not only with ex-soldiers, but also wives of ex-soldiers, community leaders, and general members of the community. Focus group discussions were supplemented with interviews of a number of “key informants,” namely individuals at the Christian Children’s Fund, Okiatuka and Development Workshop (Huambo) to learn more about the traditional ceremonies and to explore their perception of the problems involved in reintegration.

leaders and the administrator of Sambo were once again critical to making contact with excombatants.

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From Soldiers to Citizens

Bié Province Located in the eastern central plateau, Bié Province benefits from one of the most important river networks in the country: the Kwanza and Cubango basins, and the Lundo, Cuemba, Cutato, and Cuiva rivers. The province borders seven other Angolan provinces: Malange to the north, Lunda-Sul to the northeast, Moxico to the east, Kuando Kubango to the south, Huíla to the southwest, Huambo to the west, and Kwanza-Sul to the northwest.21 Bié’s population is highly heterogeneous. Various ethno-linguistic groups have historically inhabited the province: the Umbundu (in all municipalities, traditionally focused on agriculture and livestock farming as well as fishing), the Kioco (located in the east and south of the province primarily in the municipalities of Kuemba and east of Chitembo), and the Ganguela (located in the south of the province, in Chitembo municipality and south of Camacupa). Population estimates (extrapolated from the latest polio vaccination campaign) pointed to approximately 1.8 million people in the province and a density of 15.6 people per square kilometer.22 Bié has an extremely young population (with 55 percent under 20 and only 2 percent above the age of 65) and a disproportionately high number of female-headed households (close to 40 percent) (GoA A 2003, 17).23 An additional characteristic of this population is that it is extremely mobile – within and outside the province – as will be discussed below. Bié was one of Angola’s provinces most seriously affected by the civil war. The immediate post-independence war, the post-election war or “war of the cities” (1992–1994), as well as the last phase of the war gravely affected the province. Four of the province’s municipalities were classified as highly mined during 2002, with one mine accident occurring per 10,000 people. From 1992 onwards, large areas within Bié were isolated, namely the areas north of Andulo and Cuemba, as well as the communes of Ringoma and Umpulo (in Camacupa municipality), part of the corridor used both by UNITA and the FAA to travel from Kuando Kubango to Moxico. At the end of the war, 1,836 kilometers of roads, a third of which were primary roads, needed reconstruction. In addition, and of critical importance for the reconstruction effort of the province and the country as a whole, the Benguela railway (with an extension of 360km and crossing 5 municipal capitals in Bié) required almost total reconstruction (GoA A 2003, 6). During the various cycles of war, a significant proportion of the province’s population found refuge in and around Kuíto (the capital city) as well as other built-up areas. By the end of the war, the provincial capital hosted several thousand displaced people in makeshift camps, some of which were organized by municipality of origin. While the estimated number of people displaced in the province was estimated at 516,832 in 2002, data gathered in situ for the purposes of the government’s provincial 21 See Map 1: Angola Political Map in Appendix 1 at the end of this volume. 22 Although this was the figure used by the provincial government at the time of this research, population figures used by Bié’s Provincial Group for the Assessment of Vulnerability were much lower at 1,295,000 people. See GPAV B 2004. 23 See also MINARS/WB B 2002.

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profile pointed to 384,000 displaced people in the province or 21 percent of the total provincial population during 2003 (GoA A 2003, 2). Since the signature of the MoU in April 2002, approximately 261,000 people had returned to the province (GPAV B 2004). In fact, by October 2002, close to 45,715 people had spontaneously returned, citing the beginning of the agricultural season as their main reason for returning – although exhaustion with life in displacement camps was also a main reason. During January 2004, the WFP noted that 123,049 previously displaced people had resettled, that 95,451 former combatants and their families had also resettled, but warned that 40,563 people remained internally displaced. We should add that, as was the case throughout the country, a significant proportion of the resettlement was done with little or no official support. As in other provinces, some of the problems identified by humanitarian agencies as having delayed (and continuing to delay) the normalization of the province included de-mining, difficult access and movement of people and goods, and the lack of food, agricultural inputs and consumer goods. The province is divided into 9 municipalities and 30 communes as can be seen in Map 2 in Appendix 1. The provincial government is composed of the governor and 2 vice-governors and their respective technical teams, as well as 12 provincial directors.24 As in other provinces, public administration is regulated at provincial, municipal and communal level by law-decree No 17/99 of 29 October 1999 on the “Administrative Reform of the State” as well as Decree No 27/00 of 19 May 2000 that provides the regulatory framework of provincial government and municipal and communal administrations. The functional extension of state administration to the whole territory of the province – considered by the government a “remarkable effort” – was still in its infancy in early 2004. Although state administration had been established in all 9 municipalities and 30 communes, it suffered, as was the case in Huambo Province, from very low institutional capacity in the different sectors – a function of lack of capacity and human resources, dilapidated infrastructure, lack of appropriate means of transport for civil servants (in particular at municipal and communal levels), amongst others. According to the government, “the capacity for integrated planning, both operational (municipal) and of a more long-term developmental strategy (provincial) is very weak (…) in addition, mechanisms for evaluating the feasibility of sector projects and (based on these) the development and coordination of integrated development plans for the province were not in place” (GoA A 2003, 13). The situation found at the time of the research was one characterized by lack of organizational capacity and coordination between government structures at provincial level and its partners – a situation made worse by the lack of reliable socio-economic data with which adequate interventions could be designed. This specifically affected 24 These are responsible for education; health; assistance and social reintegration – including former combatants and war veterans; agriculture and rural development, fisheries and the environment; trade, industry and tourism; public administration, employment and social security; energy and water; youth and sport; public works, urbanization and housing; media; transport and communications; and, finally, family and promotion of women.

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the resettlement and return process – returnees were often faced with no support at the local level, no chance of employment, and therefore no means of survival. The provision of education in Bié was also precarious. Although there were 297 registered schools and other education facilities in the province, two-thirds of these functioned under considerable strain. In rural areas there was an average of 81 students per class while in urban areas there was an average of 327 students per class (in urban high schools (Level II) the average was of 72 students per teacher). According to the province’s socio-economic profile there were 2,967 teachers in the province in 2003, the majority of which taught at a primary school (level I). Moreover, and although there are no appropriate statistics on success rates in schools, it seems that a significant proportion of students who enrol in primary education in Bié eventually abandon school. Although conservative estimates pointed to 506,000 potential students, only 240,000 were officially registered – that is, 60 in every 100 pupils did not attend school (GoA A 2003, 23).25 Seventy seven health units were registered in the province, the majority of which were health posts – yet, as in Huambo, the majority of these did not operate. At the time of the research, there were two private clinics and three pharmacies in Kuito city, and the bulk of the health-related infrastructure was situated in the provincial capital. During 2003, there were only 12 doctors in the province (3 Angolans and 9 foreigners) – an average of 1 doctor for 35,321 people, 1 nurse per 2,315 people (urban areas) and 1 per 5,133 people (rural areas). We should note that during 2003 there wasn’t a single doctor in the rural areas. As noted by the government, the total volume of public expenditure allocated to health was very low – in 2000 per capita expenditure on health in the province was estimated at US$2 (or US$6 including support by donors) (GoA A 2003, 3).26 The people and organizations cited above were ill-equipped to deal with the health situation in the province. According to Médecins sans Frontières (MSF – Spain) in Kuíto, malaria, tuberculosis and pellagra continued to kill several thousand people every year. In fact, in February 2004 MSF was still concerned about communities that had yet to be reached by the humanitarian relief community (such as in Ringoma and Umpulo), as well as with a number of areas that were not accessible at that moment (Mutumbo, Cambandua).27

25 On a positive note, the National Institute for Employment and Professional Training (INEFOP – Instituto Nacional do Emprego e Formação Profissional) was present in the provincial capital, and was tasked with the implementation of the government’s “Estamos Contigo” training program. INEFOP continued to provide short-term courses (usually lasting eight months) focusing on carpentry, construction, and tailoring. 26 In fact, the government has identified a number of obstacles to the proper functioning of health programs in the province: (1) difficult access to municipalities and communes; as a result of destroyed roads and mines; (2) absence of proper means of transport to reach more remote areas; (3) insufficient and irregularly supplied drugs and medication; (4) severe lack of material, financial and human resources’ means and finally, absence of adequate means of communication within the province. 27 Interview, Médecins sans Frontières (MSF – Spain), Kuíto, February 2004.

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Bié province is predominantly rural, with the majority of its population depending on an agricultural system that revolves around the production of maize. During this research, livelihood strategies tended to vary according to whether the people in question were residents, displaced or had just resettled or returned. This can be seen in the graph below:

Figure 3.1

Sources of income in Bié by returned and resident populations

GPAV B 2004.

The resident population obtained its income primarily from agriculture and commerce (trading mainly in agricultural produce, but also in a variety of consumer goods), using the thriving local informal economy.28 As can be seen in the graph above, these are, by order of importance as sources of income for the resident population: sale of firewood and coal, sale of surplus produce, sale of beverages, sale of livestock, and agricultural labor. For the recently returned populations, the main source of food was provided by humanitarian agencies, roughly three times the amount resident’s obtained through their own production and market purchases. 29 Nevertheless, we should note that a series of rapid diagnosis exercises conducted in the province revealed that there had been a general improvement in the situation with a decrease in

28 The market of Chissindo, just outside Kuito town, is a good example of this – everything from food items to electrical appliances, from Chinese-made motorcycles to live cattle can be purchased here. 29 When the war ended, WFP initiated the provision of emergency assistance to the families of former combatants in “family reception areas.” During the resettlement/return process, the agency decided to treat all populations in the same way, including former combatants, now demobilized. The idea behind this was that WFP did not want to contribute to differentiation or competition for scarce resources at the local level. Interview, World Food Programme Office, Kuíto, February 2004.

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importance of food aid and an increase in the production ability of returnees (GPAV B 2004). Similar to the situation found in Huambo, the main sources of income for returnees were, by order of importance, agricultural labor, sale of firewood and coal, sale of surplus produce, and sale of livestock. In order to enable a better monitoring of vulnerability, the province was divided into four distinct regions – defined on the basis of their agricultural activity, trade as well as households’ recovery capacity.30 During 2003, the majority of areas in the province were considered “moderate” or “moderate to low” risk (32 communes of a total of 39), while 7 communes were considered to be in a “low risk” situation. At the end of 2003, of the four regions, two were considered to be on a steady and rapid course to recovery. Region I was experiencing a relatively sustained recovery of its trade networks (partly due to its links to Huambo city), with two dynamic centers of agricultural development (Andulo and Chinguar) and growing trade to the rest of the province. Region II, to the northeast of Kuíto and incorporating the municipalities of Catabola and Camacupa, was considered to be recovering at a steady pace – Camacupa, in particular, has experienced a considerable influx of migrant workers looking for work in the alluvial diamond exploration. Region III on the other hand, incorporating Cunhinga and Chitembo, was facing a slower recovery, a result of difficult and, in some instances impossible, access – both municipalities were still heavily dependent on humanitarian assistance at the time of this research. Finally, Region IV (which incorporates the municipalities of Nharea and Cuemba) suffered the worst recovery problems within the province: heavily dependent on the other regions for the provision of food and other items, Region IV remained in a precarious situation throughout 2003 and 2004.31 Although the situation in the province improved when humanitarian agencies finally reached previously inaccessible areas, 40,000 families (or 150,000–200,000 people) still remained out of reach during the first months of 2004.32 The resilience of the province’s population was emphasized at the time in the following terms: ... Bié’s rural population is well adapted to the environmental conditions of its traditional settlement areas as well as those of resettlement areas. With the means available to it, this population has a strong capacity to deal with difficult circumstances. Only this

30 See Map 2: Bié’s Municipalities and Agriculture and Trade Recovery Regions in Appendix 1 at the end of this volume. 31 Overall, the Vulnerability Assessment Provincial Group considered that the areas experiencing a faster pace of recovery were (in order of importance): (1) Chinguar, Kuito, and Andulo; (2) Catabola and Camacupa, (3) Cunhinga and Chitembo; and finally, (4) Nharea and Cuemba. By May 2004, the situation in the province had in fact improved, with 11 communes considered in moderate risk and 14 in “moderate to low” risk (GPAV B 2004). See GoA A 2003, 7. 32 Interview, International Committee of the Red Cross (Genéve), Office in Kuíto, February 2004. The Provincial Group’s Assessment of Vulnerability provided a slightly lower figure showing that 135,800 people were still vulnerable to food insecurity in April 2004 (of which 10,600 were food insecure; 49,600 highly vulnerable; 58,000 moderately vulnerable and 17,600 potentially vulnerable). See also GoA A 2003, 7.

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explains the fact that both resettled populations as well as those that found refuge in the surrounding woods are rebuilding their villages and their economic activities often without any support from the outside. This factor represents the greatest potentiality as regards the social reintegration and economic and productive re-organisation of rural communities and the economy of the Province (GoA A 2003, 7).

On the whole, the province has good agricultural potential and is expected to become one of the country’s main suppliers of grain – Bié’s large flood plains and abundance of water making agriculture a viable and sustainable option. Bié presents ideal conditions for the cultivation of maize, beans, rice, manioc, peanut, wheat, potatoes as well as coffee and several types of fruit trees.33 Land use in the province was composed of approximately 10,800 commercial farmers occupying 14 percent of arable land with an average plot size of 14 hectares and 239,000 families practicing subsistence farming. As several interviewees pointed to the authors, the creation of socio-economic opportunities in the province should be based first and foremost on agriculture. The granting of land, “rural extension” policies and training in basic agricultural techniques were considered crucial, as was the rehabilitation of infrastructure.34 Yet, at the time of the survey, a single agricultural engineer and two veterinary doctors covered the whole of the province, with an average of one agricultural technician per 3,625 families.35 During 2004, the province had just a single commercial bank in the provincial capital. In terms of industry, although 100 small enterprises were registered, a third of them were not operating (87 located in the provincial capital). The trade network was composed of 118 registered establishments, of which 318 are retailers; 118 are of a mixed character and 161 are based in the rural areas. There are 20 rural markets across the province and 9 urban markets. There is one commercial establishment per 7,400 people in urban areas and 25,900 in rural areas. In terms of civil society, during 2004 there were 27 NGOs and 3 churches actively working in urban and peri-urban areas, mostly in social and humanitarian projects. In the immediate post-war period, these agencies played a critical role in emergency support to the province’s thousands of displaced people (particularly in the areas of health and nutrition, education and training, agriculture, and food security). In terms of traditional authorities, it is worthwhile citing the socio-economic profile of the province: “similarly to what is happening in the rest of the country, the province is undergoing a process to support the re-organisation of structures of traditional authority, of recovering the dignity and important social role of traditional authorities in the rural areas.” Numbers of traditional authorities in province were not available however (GoA A 2003, 15).

33 According to official data, 239,000 families occupied an area estimated at 965,000 hectares during 2003 – an average of 4 hectares per family. Governo Provincial do Bié, Direcção Provincial da Agricultura, Desenvolvimento Rural, Pescas e Ambiente. 34 Interviews conducted in Kuíto (Bié) during February 2004. 35 This average was subject to severe distortion at local level: in Andulo, for example, there was one agriculture technician for 37,768 families.

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The authors carried out fieldwork in Bié province during February 2004, conducting survey collection and interviews in two municipalities: Andulo (within it, Andulo commune) and Kuíto city (within it, Cunge and Cuemba communes). During the quartering and demobilization process, Bié had three quartering/gathering areas: Ngamba I, Ngamba II, and N’Dele. By May 2003, all quartering areas had been officially closed and their populations moved to make-shift camps (old schools, an old Catholic mission, and tents in Andulo, for example) or resettled somewhere else in the province.36 The number of demobilized soldiers officially registered in the province during September 2003 pointed to a total of 19,733 former combatants and 61,058 family members.37 Interviews held in Kuíto had highlighted the fact that more than half the demobilized soldiers in the province had resettled in Andulo. Located to the northwest of Kuíto city, Andulo municipality, and within it Andulo town, were pivotal in UNITA’s war efforts in the province. In fact, for several years Jonas Savimbi kept a base in Andulo – its location allowing for the coordination of repeated offensives by UNITA on Kuíto city. The municipality, and in particular the town, carries deep scars from the years of war, and the few buildings still standing bear evidence of the ferocity of combat in the area. Only 20 houses had electricity at the time of the research. Moreover, Andulo municipality remained highly mined. Only after the war ended were humanitarian agencies able to assess the situation in Andulo, largely unknown to either the government or the humanitarian relief community. Socio-economic data for the municipality was either out of date or unreliable – for example, population statistics dated from 1992 (188,841) while humanitarian agencies used an estimate of 205,536, as can be seen in the table below. Government data shows 23 percent of the people in the municipality were displaced. The municipality had one of the lowest levels of school enrollment, with a troubling 12.9 percent school enrollment rate. In 2003, only two NGOs worked in the municipality, although with improvement in access in 2004 and 2005, this number grew considerably. Needless to say, economic activity was severely affected in all areas: the municipality had virtually no (light) industry left, with just a single bakery operating in town. The commercial network offered more prospects and, in particular, Andulo’s three rural markets continued to play a vital role for its residents. A total of 153 former combatants were surveyed and several key informant interviews and focus group discussions were conducted. Among those interviewed were Andulo’s Deputy Administrator, the Municipal Secretary of UNITA and the Soba of Chivili commune. Focus-group discussions were held with a group of recently demobilized high-ranking officers from UNITA; with community leaders; with a group of demobilized soldiers; and, finally, with a group of teenagers.

36 Information provided by the Joint Military Commission (JMC). 37 Of note is the fact that UNITA’s Municipal Secretary in Andulo claimed there were 24,000 former combatants in the municipality alone, while the Deputy Administrator of Andulo (also a former UNITA military) says that only 18,000 former combatants were demobilized in the municipality.

Epicenters of Emergency, State Weakness and Decay

Table 3.3

67

Population data for Kuíto and Andulo municipalities

Adapted from WFP 2004.

Fieldwork was also conducted in Kuíto in Cunge and Cuemba communes. The center of the city of Kuíto was in complete ruins, having been the scene of intense fighting for several years. During the war, the center of town had been under FAA control with UNITA surrounding the city for long periods – forcing the government to create an “aerial bridge” to support the embattled FAA forces. Jonas Savimbi’s forces tried repeatedly to occupy the town from his base in Andulo, just two hours away. Many of the residents still found it hard to explain how a comparatively small FAA garrison was able to resist UNITA’s attacks, particularly those headed by General Bock, who mounted a devastating offensive in December 1998. Evidence of this offensive is still visible along the road to Andulo. For many, UNITA’s defeat at Kuito signalled a reversal in the fortunes of the movement. The October 1999 offensive by the FAA (termed locally “the nine-month war”) would put an end to UNITA’s presence in Andulo and Bailundo, forcing the movement to move east in the province and towards Moxico. Local traditional authorities were contacted in Cunge and their assistance in the identification and gathering of former combatants in their areas requested. As in Huambo, locating large numbers of ex-combatants was considerably more difficult in Cunge, and the authors relied heavily on the assistance of traditional

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leaders. As a result, the number of surveys collected was considerably lower, at 55. The authors also focused on semi-structured interviews with a number of key agencies and organizations present in the provincial capital.38 Huíla Province With an area of 79,022 square kilometers, Huíla Province is situated in the southwest of the country. It borders six other provinces: Namibe and Benguela to the west; Benguela and Huambo to the north; Bié and Cuando-Cubango to the east and, finally, Cunene to the South.39 An estimated 3 million people inhabited Huíla Province in 2002, 46 percent of whom were urban-based.40 Huíla’s ethno-linguistic make-up is markedly diverse, including Nyaneca-Nkhumbi, Umbundu, Nganguela, Quioco, Herero, and non-Bantu groups. The province comprises 14 municipalities and 65 communes, and provincial administration is structured along the same lines as the other two provinces, the same legislation applying. Yet, unlike the two other provinces surveyed, administrative structures at the level of the provincial capital (Lubango) remained largely functional throughout the conflict partly because Lubango was not as directly affected by the conflict as the other urban sites chosen for survey research. The province retained a significant training and education infrastructure, which strengthened its ability (to the degree possible in times of war) to plan, manage and implement programs. In contrast to Bié for example, the provincial administration had a younger workforce educated at technical and university levels, and administration buildings were relatively well preserved in the provincial capital (GoA C 2003, 13). Nevertheless, functional links between the provincial level and municipal levels remained highly challenging. The government had initiated the extension of central administration to many of Huíla’s municipalities some years before the end of the war, but local administration remained particularly weak (or non-existent) in several northern and north-eastern municipalities where the war had been more intense (GoA C 2003, 14).41 With the exception of the northwest of the province (municipality of Quilengues), Huíla has an average altitude of 1,000 meters above sea level. The province benefits from two significant river basins, the Cunene and Cubango rivers, and is divided into five main agricultural zones. The northern municipalities (Caluquembe, Caconda, Chiconda, and Chipindo) are predominantly maize cultivation areas, a function of irregular patterns of rainfall. The central and eastern municipalities 38 Key informant interviews were conducted with the ICRC, MSF, the WFP, and INEFOP (National Institute for Employment and Professional Training). In addition, a number of focus group discussions were also undertaken with a group of Sobas and a group of female soldiers. 39 See Map 1: Angola Political Map in Appendix 1 at the end of this volume. 40 Approximately 1,479,240 urban and 1,533,381 rural according to the Provincial Government’s Statistics Department. See also GoA C 2003, 4. 41 The strengthening and development of adequate functional links between the provincial and municipal administrations, as well as the need for training and placement of additional staff at both levels, was also highlighted in the province’s socio-economic profile.

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(Matal, Quipungo, and the north-west of Jamba and Chibia) are characterized by a combination of farming (of a wide variety of crops) and herding. The southern zone (the municipalities of Chibia, Gambos and the southern parts of Quipungo and Matala) has a lower rainfall average and is primarily dedicated to herding. The municipalities of Humpata, Lubango, Cacula, and northern Chibia form part of what is known as the “Huíla highlands” (GoA C 2003, 13). By the end of the war, displacement in Huíla was considerable; OCHA’s figures for September 2002 pointed to a total of 191,000 displaced while MINARS had registered 315,941 displaced people, of which 71,149 were being assisted during the last quarter of 2002. While the war deeply affected the province’s socio-economic fabric (including structures of traditional authority), Huila’s northern and eastern municipalities were the hardest hit. The largest number of displaced people was located in the municipalities of Chipindo, Kuvango, Quilengues, and Caconda. During the emergency phase, a large number of UN system organizations were present in the province, including the WFP, UNICEF, OCHA, FAO, and UNDP. In addition, a number of religious institutions play a significant role in the provision of humanitarian assistance: the Catholic Church, the Igreja Evangélica do Sinodal de Angola (IESA), and so on. There is no doubt that the significant variations in Huila’s population were direct consequences of the civil war. Although statistical information must be used cautiously, it is significant that its population grew from an estimated 1.1 million in 1995 to an estimated 3 million in 2002 – an exponential growth that was significantly more pronounced in urban areas. In Lubango, for example, an estimated 1.2 million people sought refuge during these years. In Chipindo the population would increase threefold between 1995 and 2002; from an estimated 17,792 people to 57,705 by 2002 (GoA C 2003, 18). Having experienced similar patterns of irregular and heavy rainfall during the rainy season of 2003/2004, a number of Huíla’s municipalities lost up to 70 percent of their agricultural production. The effects on accessibility were perhaps more serious: large areas in the north and east became difficult to reach (and at times inaccessible) from November 2003 to April 2004. The municipalities of Caconda, Chipindo, Kuvango, and Quilengues were particularly affected and required food aid throughout the period. In Chipindo, for example, 19 percent of people’s sources of food were provided through food aid. Overall, the province had 130,330 people in a situation of vulnerability: 31,770 of whom were food insecure; 29,630 faced high vulnerability; 45,800 moderate vulnerability and 23,130 considered potentially vulnerable. Agricultural production has declined markedly over the past 25 years. During the research period the province continued to be heavily dependent on WFP assistance and imports. There were approximately 210,930 families devoted to farming, cultivating an area of close to 244,538 ha. Cattle farming is a critical economic sector in the province, making Huíla a leader in this kind of economic activity countrywide. The traditional sector is by far the largest and includes approximately 80 percent of all farmers in the province – yet, because the techniques applied are rudimentary and agricultural inputs very scarce, this is a sector characterized by a high degree of vulnerability. It is interesting to note that 628 farmers’ associations existed in the

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province – comprising 35,591 members, of which 50 percent are women. Yet, “the majority of these farmers continue to use traditional farming methods as a result of the lack of ‘inputs’ and technical support” (GoA C 2003, 32). The commercial agriculture sector was formed by a small number of private farms situated along peri-urban areas, and also by a growing number of large commercial farms dedicated to cattle breeding. The granting of large areas to private individuals (most from Angola’s economic, political and military elites) has, in the past decade, caused a strong local resentment, particularly from pastoral communities in the south of the province, in the municipality of Gambos. Since the end of the war, trade has boomed in the provincial capital, largely a result of the province’s proximity to Namibia and its strategic location at the beginning of Angola’s central plateau. During the second quarter of 2002, an estimated 132 businesses were registered (wholesale and retail) and an estimated 9,800 informal traders operated in the province. One of the provincial government’s priorities has been to strengthen the industrial base of the province. In addition, the tourism sector (essentially in the city of Lubango and Humpata municipality) offers considerable potential and it is expected that government efforts in this regard will be developed in the near future. Lubango has five commercial banks and a vibrant associative movement – in this regard too the provincial capital stands apart from both Huambo and Kuíto.42 Three large professional association bodies are registered in the province, in addition to several economic development programs specifically focused on agriculture and cattle farming.43 At the time of this research, the province’s education infrastructure was, with few exceptions, in a similar condition to that found in the other two central plateau provinces. The displacement of thousands of civilians in several waves of migration, the destruction of infrastructure during the years of war, the lack of sufficient and properly trained teachers, and severe shortages of materials and adequate curricula, have left the province in a dire situation. Nevertheless, the province has six professional training centers, four technical colleges (institutos médios) and four higher education faculties (GoA C 2003, 32). University level education is provided by the Higher Institute for Education (ISCED – Instituto Superior de Ciências da Educação) and the Universidade Agostinho Neto (Law and Economics) in Lubango. Technical college education in the field of health is provided by the Escola Técnica de Saúde (training of nurses and laboratory technicians) and in the field of tourism at the Escola Profissional de Hotelaria e Turismo. We should note, however, that these 42 For example, the Associação Agro-Pecuária Comercial e Industrial da Huíla (APCIL), the Associação das Mulheres Empresárias da Huíla (AMEH) and the União Nacional de Apoio as Associações de Camponeses (UNACA). 43 The Social Support Fund (FAS, Fundo de Acção Social) is present, as is the Reconstruction Support Program (PAR, Programa de Apoio à Reconstrução) financed by the European Union. FAS and PAR are pivotal in the reconstruction of infra-structure, water and sanitation facilities, and social development interventions in the province. The Community Rehabilitation and National Reconciliation Program funded by the UNDP was also operating in the municipalities of Cacula, Quipungo, and Matala. There are five commercial banks in the provincial capital.

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44

are all based in Lubango and Humpata. Of relevance to this study is the fact that of the 330,000 students enrolled in basic level education (nível I), only 8.7 percent continued to level II. The province’s socio-economic profile reveals very low levels of performance, high drop-out levels, and a general lack of morale by students and teachers across the province.45 Healthcare across the province is also extremely poor. During 2003, there was one hospital bed per 3,000 people, one nurse per 2,430, and one doctor for every 83,000. As noted by the government, the situation is far worse in rural areas. Of the seven hospitals in the province, five are located in Lubango, one in Matala, and one in Cacula. Regarding structures of traditional authority at community level, there were 1,611 traditional authorities in the province. As noted earlier, their historical role was focused on the management of the community’s day-to-day business (for example, land allocation) as well as the resolution of disputes and conflicts (over land, over inheritance, matrimonial issues, and so on): In the central and southern areas, where the conflict was less pronounced, it is still possible to find unaltered traditional authority structures. The figure of the King (ohamba) represents the highest authority, responsible for and the guardian of traditional culture. He represents his people in relations with state structures and neighbouring communities; reconciles interests; and, helps solve key issues such as inter-ethnic conflicts, land related conflicts and others. Below the King there is the figure of the Soba and below that that of the Sekulu. The Soba and the Sekulu are both representatives of the King, manage the community’s territory and preside over traditional courts (...) Gambos municipality is the only one that has a King, which is included in the category of Great Soba (Soba Grande) (GoA C 2003, 14–15).

Research in Huíla province was conducted during March and April 2004. As with the two previous provinces, an urban/peri-urban commune in the provincial capital (Lubango) and a predominantly rural municipality, that of Chipindo, were chosen as research sites. During the quartering and demobilization process, Huíla province had three quartering/gathering areas: Ngalangue I, II and III. On 24 July 2002, 5,233 UNITA combatants were in quartering areas with 22,585 of their family members in family reception areas.46 In addition, 12,000 former combatants were demobilized during the Bicesse process and 4,750 during the Lusaka process. At the time the research was conducted, data on actual numbers of former combatants in the province provided by the Provincial Secretary of UNITA pointed to a total of 7,892 registered former combatants. 44 A technical college focused on agriculture is based in Humpata, the Instituto Médio Agrário do Tchivinguiro. 45 Chipindo and Kuvango municipalities are hardest hit and have the lowest rates of schooling of all municipalities in the province (GoA C 2003, 32). 46 Information provided by the Joint Military Commission (JMC) during July 2002. By May 2003, 10,000 people were still waiting to be transported from gathering areas; 400 were living in two transit centers in Lubango; 1,000 people were living in a reception area in Chicomba, with a further 1,200 people living in an abandoned school, a hospital and in temporary shelters in Chipindo.

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Table 3.4

From Soldiers to Citizens

Traditional authorities in Huíla Province, 2001

GPAV B 2004.

The authors conducted survey research, focus group discussions and interviews in Lubango, in “Sede” commune. Lubango straddles a major railroad line to the coast as well as a north-south road and has managed to hang onto its relative prosperity despite having to host thousands of IDPs during the worst years of the war. As mentioned in the pages above, the provincial capital has the highest population density (46.9 percent) in the province.47 In comparison to the other two provincial capitals (Bié and Huambo), Lubango retained more of its social and economic infrastructure – nevertheless, the city’s hospitals, schools and administrative buildings were in need of urgent repair. Moreover, the direct and indirect costs of hosting thousands of IDPs from within and outside the province, coupled with years of lack of investment had taken a toll on the city’s infrastructure. Lubango’s water

47 Lubango’s 450 people per square kilometer stands in sharp contrast to the average of 38 people per square kilometer in the province as a whole. See in GoA C 2003.

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and sanitation infrastructure was largely in ruins, with only 10 percent of the city’s population having access to drinking water. In Lubango, the authors collected 126 surveys and held 6 focus group discussions with ex-combatants, community members and local leaders. Research was then conducted in the remote municipality of Chipindo, in the north-east of the province. At the time of the research, Chipindo municipality, a rural area 456 kilometers from the provincial capital was home to an estimated 48,000 inhabitants. Situated within an area hotly contested during the conflict, and controlled by UNITA for several years prior to the end of the war, Chipindo had only recently experienced the arrival of government administration (17 March 2002). In the immediate postwar period, Chipindo was (in)famously described by MSF as one of the country’s “grey areas” – a place that had been inaccessible to humanitarian relief operations for several years due to a combination of high insecurity, poor road conditions, and mine infestation. In addition, the forced displacement of civilians caused by military tactics applied by both sides (so-called “scorched-earth tactics”), coupled with the inability of a large number of relief agencies to negotiate access to civilians in those areas, contributed to a dire humanitarian situation – a situation affecting large areas of the province beyond Chipindo, particularly the areas east of the line between Caluquembe and Matala. During 2002, Chipindo experienced the worst of the immediate post-war humanitarian crisis with very high levels of disease and mortality. At that point it “housed” 27,624 people in IDP camps. As the FAA advanced east between September 2001 and March 2002, around 18,000 people were forcibly moved from previously UNITA-controlled villages to the municipality and then placed in makeshift IDP camps. The catastrophic situation created by these forced movements was so serious that, according to MSF-Spain, 90 people perished every day in Chipindo’s IDP camps during April 2002. A nutritional survey among children indicated that more than a quarter of them were suffering from severe malnutrition and a further 18 percent from moderate malnutrition. The setting up by MSF of a therapeutic feeding center in Chipindo in May of the same year, and the opening of supplementary feeding centers in the quartering areas of Ngalangue II and III as well at Dongo and Chilembo, drastically reduced mortality rates in the area.48 In addition, it should be pointed out that after the end of the war, this part of Huíla province experienced significant return movements. In fact, resettlement programs targeting a staggering 98,000 people were underway during the second half of 2002. Access to Chipindo proved to be somewhat difficult, partly because of the rainy season, extremely bad road conditions, as well as mine infestation. Huíla’s road infrastructure was in as bad a shape as the other two provinces surveyed.49 Chipindo’s infrastructure was virtually destroyed and at the time of the research there was just a very basic administrative structure and a central health post. People 48 Interviews conducted in situ by J Gomes Porto, June 2002. 49 In its 2002/2003 estimates, the provincial government noted that 400 kilometers of primary roads and 630 kilometers of secondary and tertiary roads were in need of total reconstruction.

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in Chipindo were still very poor, with few employment opportunities and signs of malnutrition and other accompanying diseases. Nonetheless a significant number of surveys and key informant interviews were conducted.50

50 In all, 77 surveys were collected and five focus group discussions held, including middle/lower ranking officers as well as female ex-combatants. Amongst the key interviews conducted were one with the administrator of Chipindo; ACF; ZOA; the secretary of UNITA (Chipindo); a UNITA municipal representative (Lubango); and UNITA’s provincial secretary.

Chapter 4

UNITA’s Demobilized Soldiers: Economic, Social and Political Dimensions of Reintegration UNITA’s Demobilized Soldiers: Composite Portrait As noted in the previous chapter, this survey was conducted in both rural and urban settings across three provincial target areas. In total, 603 ex-combatants were interviewed, of which 208 were in Bié, 193 in Huambo and 202 in Huíla; with a slight preponderance of rural respondents, especially in Bié, over that of urban (see below). A total of 17 focus group meetings were held with ex-combatants and 9 with community members. In addition, 16 key informant interviews were conducted with local leaders and government representatives, NGO staff and civil society representatives. Whenever possible, and for the purposes of obtaining a clear portrait of the “average” postLuena ex-combatant, and to gain an understanding of the challenges and constraints to reintegration in the three provinces, the authors combined the findings from all areas surveyed. What follows is an overview of the data gathered.

Figure 4.1

Composite portrait of a former UNITA combatant (Luena Process)

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Location and number of interviews Since no reliable data was available on the location of ex-combatants beforehand, statistical sampling could not be used. As a result, the authors used a convenience sampling approach (non-probability sample design), which was felt to be appropriate because of the control provided by the fact that the population was well identified. As noted above, fieldwork was divided between urban and rural areas in three provinces, with as close to equal numbers in each as possible. The number of surveys, focus groups and key interviews conducted by municipality are detailed below: Table 4.1

Surveys, focus groups and key informant interviews conducted

Age The average (mean) age of the ex-combatants was 36.5 years (median 36), with a range of 18–78. Since these surveys were done around 18 months after demobilization, and two years after the end of the war, it is probable that the average age upon demobilization was slightly younger. Gender The vast majority of respondents were male (95.2 percent), reflecting the overall predominance of men in the target group. Very few women were registered as combatants, the majority being registered as family members. However, it is probable that many women who were not demobilized – and therefore not included in the survey – were “combatants” in the broader sense: traveling with UNITA forces and providing rear support as cooks, porters, and so on. It is also probable that women face at least the same level of difficulty in reintegration as officially registered ex-combatants, which makes it unfortunate that they could not be given more attention in our survey. Where possible, some focus groups with UNITA women were carried out.

UNITA’s Demobilized Soldiers

Figure 4.2

Age of ex-combatants surveyed

Table 4.2

Gender of ex-combatants surveyed

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Maternal language and other languages spoken Almost all respondents (96 percent) were native Umbundu speakers; Kimbundu and Nganguela being the most common other responses. The range was broad, however, and included Kikongo, Lingala, Mumuila, Tchokwe, and Nhaneca. It should be noted that in the majority of cases, the survey was conducted in the respondent’s native language, which was usually Umbundu – the support of our local partners being invaluable in this regard. In terms of other languages, 73 percent claimed to speak Portuguese in addition to their maternal language, while only 22 percent spoke no second language. The other most commonly spoken languages were Nganguela, Tchokwe, and Kimbundu. There were also a few English and French speakers. There was little difference between the genders, with only 1 woman (out of 29) who was not a native Umbundu speaker. In addition, the proportion of women claiming to speak Portuguese was actually higher than among the men, at 79 percent, and the number speaking no second language was lower, at 17 percent.

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Literacy/education levels As shown in the table below, over half the ex-combatants surveyed had not progressed beyond the first level of primary school education, and only a small minority (7 percent for men, 10 percent for women) had reached the third level or above – a proportion only slightly higher than those claiming to be illiterate. As will be discussed below, the lack of qualifications constitutes the single most important obstacle to finding formal employment, in an environment with very high rates of unemployment.1 In this regard, the assessment of functional literacy for those who claim to have formal education seemed to the authors to be a critical priority. Table 4.3

Education levels of ex-combatants

Resettlement locations The majority of interviewees chose to resettle in the place in which they were born, or less commonly, where they had previously lived. In fact, 79.4 percent had resettled, even if not in the village or bairro of their birth, at least in the same province. Just one fifth chose to resettle in a place where they had never lived before. The next graph shows the results of the answers to the question: Have you previously lived in this community? Moreover, most respondents also had family networks available to them in the place of resettlement. These results seem to support the argument discussed in Chapter 1 above concerning the importance of “community” as the principal partner to a DDR program and the resulting need for a shift from the individual to the community – where community (family, residents, returnees, the displaced) becomes the center 1

Approximately 45 percent in Angola’s main urban centers.

UNITA’s Demobilized Soldiers

Figure 4.3

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Previous ties to resettlement locations

around which reintegration should gravitate. In the case of Angola, as earlier research by Development Workshop has shown, the community (and in particular the family) provided an important safety net for ex-combatants. In our survey, slightly more than one third (33 percent) of respondents had returned to places where their parents or grandparents were still resident, while 27 percent were reunited with their siblings, and 21 percent were reunited with distant relatives. Furthermore, of those who had chosen to resettle somewhere they had never lived before, over half had chosen to do so because they had family relations there, as can be seen in the next table. Table 4.4

Family ties to resettlement locations

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Only 8.5 percent of respondents resettled in a place where they had never lived before and had no relatives. Within this group, 4 percent (that is, almost half) were accompanying their spouse, perhaps to his/her birthplace (in fact, almost 80 percent of the ex-combatants chose places to settle because they were accompanying their spouses, which in most cases was a man accompanying his wife). This leaves a minority of 4.5 percent who have no apparent ties to the place in which they have resettled – a particularly vulnerable group according to previous research conducted by DW. The motivation for choosing the place of resettlement correlates roughly with previous ties to the community – most chose to return to their birth place or to join family relatives. Marital status and household structure As can be seen in the graph below, the vast majority of former combatants have a spouse, although in most cases this is a “common law” rather than a legal marriage. In addition, 16 percent of respondents claimed to have a second and in some cases a third wife. While the majority returned/resettled with their immediate family, only 9 percent returned alone or were unaccompanied. Moreover, 81 percent were accompanied by their spouses (including 10 percent who returned with 2 or more wives); 76 percent brought children with them, and 7 percent were accompanied by other family relatives.

Figure 4.4

Marital status of ex-combatants

The overwhelming majority of respondents (93 percent) identified themselves as “head of household” – with the average household containing 9 people, although they ranged from 1 to 24. Many former combatants had other family relatives living with them (extended families): 8 percent had their parents living with them, 12

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percent were living with adult relatives (aunts, cousins, and so on); 14 percent were supporting child relatives (nieces, nephews and so on); and 15 percent were also supporting orphans within their household. When compared to the 16 percent of respondents who claimed to have a second (and in some cases a third wife) it is interesting to note that only 8 percent counted a second wife as part of their household, implying that some did not consider them part of their direct household but as separate from it. Whether this is a result of the type of nomadic existence experienced during the war, in which former combatants would be stationed in different areas for long periods of time and create families in these areas, or other factors (of a cultural or religious nature) upon their resettlement and return, warrants further research. Rank and length of military service The highest rank of those surveyed was Colonel, with very few with the rank of Major or above (25 out of 603). Almost half fell into the lower-middle ranks of Lieutenant to Sergeant, while the lowest ranks accounted for just over a third of respondents. An interesting finding arose during consultations with Angolan partners and other stakeholders held in Johannesburg in September 2004 under the auspices of the Institute for Security Studies. As the results relating to rank were discussed, a number of participants correctly noted that some of the ranks were not typical, or did not exist within UNITA’s military structures. The question asked in the survey questionnaire had been: “What was your rank in the army [FALA]?” to which the respondent could choose from one of the following 10 choices: Colonel, Lieutenant Colonel, Major, Captain, Lieutenant, Warrant Officer, Sergeant, 2nd Sergeant, Private, and Other. When the results obtained were treated statistically, we found that a number of respondents had given themselves ranks not included in the survey questionnaire, including 2nd Lieutenant. In addition, participants at the workshop noted that the rank of 2nd Sergeant (included in the questionnaire) did not exist in FALA’s structures. Participants at the consultations reflected on the possible meaning(s) and policy implications of these findings. Many thought that the widespread expectation that the higher the rank, the better the benefits accrued by former combatants could explain the artificial inflation of ranks during the administration of surveys (for example, a Sergeant claiming to be a 2nd Lieutenant). Another possibility was that because the three ranks do in fact exist in the structure of the Angolan Armed Forces (FAA) they might be considered relatively safer, better options by former combatants expecting socio-economic reintegration support, as well as the possibility of future pensions at the level of FAA veterans. Of course, this inconsistency may simply be due to misunderstanding of the questions and the multiple-choice answers. After some discussion, and following the suggestions and recommendations of Angolan participants (and in particular those directly involved in demobilization and reintegration activities) a new version of the data was produced. In this new version (see table below) the ranks with discrepancies were collapsed into single ranks: for example, the Lieutenant and 2nd Lieutenant ranks all became Lieutenant, and the Sergeant and 2nd Sergeant were all collated into Sergeant.

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Table 4.5

Rank of former combatants

Table 4.6

Rank of former combatants (revised)

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The number of years an ex-combatant had spent with UNITA was, on average, 17 years, with a range of less than 1 year to 36 years.

Figure 4.5

Time spent with UNITA

The average age at which ex-combatants joined UNITA was 17 years (mean 17.6; median 17.0). We also note that, because the reported age of joining the movement ranged from 3 to 56, this most probably indicates cases where individual former combatants were abducted and/or brought up within UNITA, rather than the actual age at which they joined the armed forces. The issue of possible abduction and forced recruitment is one that will require considerable attention and future research – adequate treatment of it is naturally outside the specific objectives of this book. Demobilization As noted in Chapter 1 above, a first step towards understanding the role and type of intervention strategies that might better support the socio-economic reintegration of ex-combatants is to assess to what extent the former combatant has been officially demobilized. Reinsertion and reintegration support will often only be granted when they have proof of demobilization. A considerable majority of respondents (79.4 percent) confirmed having all their demobilization documents, and only 8.6 percent have no documents at all. The results obtained regarding the process of demobilization are detailed below. In addition, the authors aimed to assess the extent to which former combatants were given demobilization subsidies or any kind of reinsertion support. As emphasized in the pages above, to the demobilized soldier these payments represent a critical “transitional safety net” – their primary purpose being “to assist the ex-combatant for a certain period – normally between six and twelve months – after demobilisation,

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Table 4.7

From Soldiers to Citizens

Ex-combatants in possession of demobilisation documentation

and cover his or her basic needs and, preferably, those of the ex-combatants’ family” (de Watteville 2002, 6). Only 53.1 percent of ex-combatants interviewed confirmed they had received the demobilization subsidy, while 46.6 percent claim to not having received it. In addition, there were considerable differences between different municipalities, as is evident in the table below, which must be investigated further. More specifically, there seems to be a substantial difference between rural and urban municipalities, with a large percentage of those from urban municipalities (Huambo Sede, Kuíto, and Lubango) claiming not to have received demobilization subsidies. In order to further assess the level of support for emergency reinsertion at the time of demobilization, the authors asked interviewees whether they had received the demobilization kit. Only 59.7 percent of respondents had received it, leaving a substantial proportion of respondents (40 percent) without this critical component of reinsertion assistance. In fact, several of the focus group interviews confirmed that a substantial number had not benefitted from this kind of support, either at the time of demobilization or when resettled. This was the case with the high ranking officers’ group in Andulo, the demobilized focus group in Muembessi commune in Huambo,

UNITA’s Demobilized Soldiers

Table 4.8

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Ex-combatants who received the demobilisation subsidy

as well as the low-ranking officers’ group in Chipindo. The Chipindo group added that they had had no choice but to survive by collecting firewood and live off WFP supplies. However, and in sharp contrast to the information gathered through our surveys, data gathered through key interviews presented a different picture.2 For example, according to the Provincial Secretary of UNITA in Huíla, only 12.2 percent percent of all former combatants in the province had not received demobilization kits as can be seen in table 4.9:

2 In Andulo, the deputy administrator (a former UNITA officer) pointed out to the authors that although former combatants were given “household” kits and contingency subsidies, many of them had sold them and spent the money on articles with no real economic value. In any case, because the project conducted its surveys in Andulo during a distribution of agricultural kits, the overall impression was that many former combatants were receiving agricultural kits for the first time. In Huambo (Muembessi commune), a focus group discussion with demobilized soldiers confirmed that they too were still waiting for assistance promised in the form of agricultural kits, and that only CARE had provided them with some seeds and tools.

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Table 4.9

Reinsertion support: Provision of demobilisation kits and subsidies in Huíla Province

Although we are unable to generalize as to the situation in the whole country, the fact that such a large percentage of demobilized soldiers surveyed were deprived of that initial economic “push” could have constituted a serious obstacle to their willingness to reintegrate – the context of war termination in Angola (that of a clear military defeat) being perhaps the single most important factor explaining a generalized reluctance by former combatants to even consider a return to war. Our initial observations in Chapter 1 on the potential of a reconceptualized re-insertion approach pertain – in the sense that re-insertion should be given its appropriate role as more than a financial donation for the purposes of short-term security concerns. As noted in Chapter 1 above, and following Ball and van de Goor, this implies rethinking the ways in which re-insertion could become the “bridge” between demobilization and longer-term reintegration. As will be discussed at length in the concluding chapter, re-insertion support should be designed around programs and projects and tasked with helping sustain groups of demobilized soldiers (as well as other vulnerable groups) until such time as reconstruction, rehabilitation, poverty reduction, and development interventions begin – yet, we are clearly aware of some of the challenges that adopting a proportional and non-discriminatory approach may engender. We will return to these issues in the pages below. Economic Dimensions of Reintegration … Economic reintegration contributes to financial independence and self-reliance which is viewed as essential for achieving objectives of demobilisation at the social and political level (Nubler 1997, 3). … The last step of a DRP (demobilisation and reintegration programme) is a long-term process that starts at the same time as reinsertion and focuses on the reintegration of excombatants and families. A successful reintegration is completed when ex-combatants and families are able to generate enough income to ensure their financial independence and when the community has accepted them (de Watteville 2002, 12).

In order to assess former combatants’ socio-economic situation, and to obtain some understanding of the level of economic security of the former combatant’s household, the authors devised a series of questions focusing on issues such as the number of people that contribute to the household’s income; the former combatant’s main and secondary economic activities; questions on house ownership and access to land, and so on. The authors found that, in over half the cases (54 percent), the former

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combatant’s household has two income earners – the ex-combatant and his spouse. An additional 30 percent of the respondents indicated that more than two people were responsible for the household’s livelihood – implying that in only 16 percent of cases is the ex-combatant solely responsible for household income and economic security. Most former combatants (76 percent) have some secondary source of income, and some even a tertiary. Notably, over half of these are receiving aid from the WFP or an NGO. In the graph below, “unearned” includes NGO and WFP handouts, as well as support from family/friends, while “earned” includes income from wage labour and trade.

Figure 4.6

Sources of income

The dependence on emergency assistance from the WFP and other NGOs was pointed out to the authors during several focus group discussions and key informant interviews in all research locations. This was the situation in Chipindo for a group of low-ranking officers; for the group of demobilized soldiers in Andulo; and, finally, for the group of community leaders in Bairro Santos. Interviews with WFP in Kuíto confirmed that the agency’s resettlement support during the first two years after the Luena MoU had in fact been centered on food assistance to all population groups and, since demobilization, had also included former combatants. As noted in Chapter 1, a similar situation was observed in a number of DDR programs in sub-Saharan Africa (for example, Ethiopia, Uganda, and Mozambique) – strengthening our belief on the need to address all groups affected by the armed conflict as they may evidence common levels of vulnerability. Data generated by the inter-agency group tasked with monitoring vulnerability in Bié province for the same period3 shows that, although the overall dependency 3

GPAV B 2004, 7.

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on food aid diminished after the Luena MoU, it still represented the single most important source of food for those who had resettled and/or returned. Perhaps more important is the fact that returned communities had begun producing their own food, albeit in insufficient quantities. The graph below, produced by the inter-agency group shows the relative weight of food aid, market purchases and own production for both the resettled/returned group as well as residents:

Figure 4.7

Sources of food for returned and resident groups

Adapted from WFP 2004.

As regards house ownership, just fewer than half the former combatants surveyed (45.3 percent) claimed to own the house in which they were living. We should also clarify that “house” in this context was, for the majority of cases but in particular those in rural locations, a very simple thatched mud hut. Additional research would be required to determine whether this high level of house ownership was a result, for example, of inheritance and/or allocation by the community (since the majority chose to resettle in the place in which they were born) or of purchase (unlikely because most former combatants did not have the necessary capital). As to the remainder, one third of interviewees rented; 8 percent had been loaned a house, and 13 percent lived in a house belonging to relatives. An extreme group of just under 1 percent claimed themselves as “homeless.” A similar situation was found in terms of access to and ownership of land, as can be seen in the next graph. Compared to the 45.3 percent claiming to own their own house, 56 percent claimed to own land. Some 9 percent of interviewees had been loaned land (8 percent had been loaned a house), and a further 3 percent were renting (in this case, the discrepancy is wider). However, a substantial percentage – approximately 31 percent – did not own, rent or had been loaned land.

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Figure 4.8

House ownership

Figure 4.9

Access to and ownership of land

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Primary economic activity Interestingly, the authors found that the principal sources of ex-combatants’ livelihoods varied dramatically between rural and urban areas – though the urban/ rural distinction is not always clear-cut. Although over half the sample (55 percent) cited agriculture as the principal source of income, the figure was 71 percent in rural areas but just 28 percent in urban areas. The next most common source of

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livelihoods was wage labor, at 21 percent. Once again, urban/rural differences were considerable: while 39 percent claimed wage labor as their primary source of income in urban areas, this percentage fell to 11 percent in rural municipalities. Informal trade and commerce was the principal source of livelihood for a combined total of 13 percent (19 percent urban, 10 percent rural). It is worth noting that only 0.3 percent

Figure 4.10 Principal sources of livelihoods: Urban areas

Figure 4.11 Principal sources of livelihoods: Rural areas

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of respondents were formally employed in the private sector – an issue to which we will return later. Previous occupation and training A very important component of this research was to determine the set of professional skills existing within the sample surveyed. To this end, the survey questionnaire included three distinct questions: what was your occupation before joining the armed movement?; did you receive any professional training before joining?; and, did you receive any professional training during your time with UNITA?4 The authors found that, in common with other sub-Saharan African situations (Ethiopia, Uganda, Mozambique, DRC, Burundi), a substantial proportion of UNITA former combatants were small-scale farmers prior to joining UNITA (almost half of respondents). Significantly, perhaps reflecting the relatively young age at which many joined UNITA’s armed forces, over a third of the group were still studying at the time they joined. In addition, a higher proportion than currently were employed (both in the public and private sectors) or otherwise working in manual trades and the general range of occupations registered was also higher – 5 percent had been tradesmen versus just 1 percent now, and 6 percent had worked in the public sector, primarily as teachers or nurses, versus 2 percent now. However, the majority (80 percent) had no training at all before joining UNITA. Of those with some training, most (13 percent of the total) were in a broad range of manual trades (plumbers, carpenters, electricians, and so on), and the remainder (6 percent) in public sector professions (nurses, teachers, and so on). A third of interviewees said they had received some form of professional training while with UNITA – in most cases they were trained in a manual trade, teaching or nursing. Table 4.10

4

Did you receive any professional training during your time with UNITA?

Appendix 2 shows the survey’s full set of questions and possible answers.

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In this regard we should note that the incorporation of those that had been trained and worked as teachers and nurses into the public service was raised in several of the focus-group sessions. Former combatants pointed out that this had been promised at the time of demobilization, echoing a national debate on the issue of equivalence of training between public sector workers and their own cadres. The group of highranking officers in Andulo, for example, commented that although they had supplied a list of all former combatants with formal qualifications for integration into the civil service, only a third of them had in fact been incorporated. Focus groups in Huambo also suggested that, in addition to the relevant documentation, it was necessary to have contacts (normally family, occasionally friends) and/or money in order to be employed in the civil service. Social Dimensions of Reintegration Own perspectives on reintegration A key research aim was to deepen our understanding of the relationship between identity and reintegration. In particular, the authors developed a participatory assessment of former combatants’ own perceptions of their status: whether they still saw themselves as soldiers, as demobilized soldiers, or as civilians. A series of questions was devised to assess these perceptions. The majority of respondents (77 percent) considered themselves to be reintegrated into civilian life, as evident in the table below. Table 4.11

Ex-combatants own perceptions of reintegration

A smaller proportion of respondents (just over half) saw themselves as civilians, however, with almost an equal number seeing themselves as “demobilized.” A very small number still saw themselves as “military,” however, and a similarly small number (2.3 percent) said they had considered a return to military life since their demobilization. It appears that while ex-combatants no longer saw themselves as combatants or military personnel, for many there was still some way to go before the transition to civilian life was complete. Moreover, a significant number of respondents – some 22.7 percent – did not consider themselves reintegrated into civilian life.

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Figure 4.12 Ex-combatants’ own identity perception The focus groups helped shed additional light on this issue. For example, some mentioned that the “demobilized” identity was useful because it enabled them to access aid and assistance from WFP, NGOs and the government. This has a downside as well though – some ex-combatants went as far as to say that, while they would very much like to be seen as civilians, it is made rather difficult by all these NGOs (and researchers presumably) who keep turning up and asking to speak to “the demobilized!” Social networks and community participation If, as posited in Chapter 1 above, the community is key to the long-term reintegration of former combatants, then understanding the practical as well as subjective set of relationships established in the immediate post-war period between the resettled former combatant and the host community is critical. As an initial step to deepening our understanding of the importance of social capital for long-term sustainable reintegration, our survey attempted to gauge ex-combatants’ participation in the fabric of community social and organizational life. To what extent does participation in the life of the community promote trust, reciprocity and the development and deepening of networks between the former combatant and the host community? The most common form of social activity and network appears to be linked to the churches, with almost two thirds of ex-combatants (64 percent) being members of a church. In almost all cases, they had attended the same church before joining UNITA, and one which existed in their place of resettlement. Perhaps surprisingly, given much of what has been written about UNITA and the central highlands region, the group surveyed contained more Catholics than Protestants. However, it is probable that the Catholic church did, in fact, attract more followers – a survey

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done in 1960 showed that 69 percent of Huambo’s population were Catholics and 27 percent Protestant, while in Bié the equivalent figures were 44 percent and 30 percent, respectively. Both of these are higher than the national average of 17 percent Protestants, however, and the popular myth of a close association between UNITA and the Protestant church may perhaps simply reflect the fact that, in the early days of UNITA activity, Jonas Savimbi used the Methodist missionary network as a vehicle to gain popular support in the central highlands. In most cases, but not all, former combatants’ self-professed religion corresponded with the church of which they were a member. A small minority claimed to be, for instance, Catholic but were members of a Protestant church. It is significant that a majority of respondents (63 percent) reported that they were not a member of any organization as such. Of those who were, the organizations were most commonly linked to the churches – for example, choirs, women’s groups, men’s groups. “Political organizations” most frequently referred to LIMA (UNITA women’s’ group), JURA (UNITA youth group) or to UNITA party membership.

Figure 4.13 Organisational membership Around half of those who were members of an organization held some kind of position of responsibility within that organization, that is, 15 percent of the total of ex-combatants. Although a high number of these positions were within political organizations (24 of 93), in fact, the highest number (62 of 93) were in religious organizations. This would seem to indicate a relatively high level of reintegration and social acceptance among this group, because they had been able, in a short period of time, to not only access social networks but to also make some kind of progress up the organizational hierarchy – since these are not networks that the ex-combatants brought with them. Moreover, the vast majority of ex-combatants reported that they were not

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members of a church while with UNITA. This is unsurprising given the degree of social and political control maintained over the organization by its leadership.5 Interpersonal links and support networks Beyond “formal” membership of organizations, an additional dimension of reintegration refers to informal social interactions and networks. The authors attempted to gain some insight into this by including four questions in the survey questionnaire, and by focusing on interpersonal links and support networks in the focus group discussions. Survey questions included: (1) with whom do you spend most of your time? (2) to whom do you turn to in times of need? and, (3) who, in your opinion, is the most important person in your community? The graph below shows that while the family is the most important source of social interaction for ex-combatants (442 respondents), interaction with each other was also significant (178 respondents). Furthermore, the church is also an important locus of social networking, although it is unclear whether this is a cause or a result of the high level of church membership.

Figure 4.14 Social interaction A further dimension the authors explored was the nature and extent of the support networks to which ex-combatants had access and, in particular, the people they could/would turn to in case of problems. It is generally assumed that the Soba is the 5 The authors noted a few new churches in Bié province, which could have been built since the resettlement process – but more likely to be linked simply to the influx of money from missionary associations of various denominations since the end of the war.

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person to whom communities turn when problems arise, the one who will resolve conflicts, allocate land or shelter when needed, arrange support for the sick, the old and the disabled, and so on. Indeed, the results seem to show that the Soba is the entity most commonly chosen, but even so, this accounts for less than half of cases (293 respondents). As can be seen in the graph below, almost one third said they would go to their family or spouse, and one in 10 to their church. These findings may help elucidate the present status of traditional authorities in a limited number of municipalities and for a specific caseload, that of former combatants. However, after decades of civil war, displacement and the erosion of the traditional social fabric at local level, this is an issue that demands further empirical research. Many Sobas in the area of our fieldwork had returned to their communities only in 2002 or 2003, and so were as much a part of the process of resettlement and reintegration as the displaced and demobilized people they were supposed to “oversee.”6 Significantly, few respondents (less than 5 percent) said they would turn to UNITA in case of problems – and a similar number would go to the government. Even fewer (3 percent) said they would have nobody to turn to. This represents a major shift for ex-combatants – whilst with UNITA almost all said that they would turn to a military superior or member of the political committee within UNITA (closely interlinked and indistinguishable in some cases).

Figure 4.15

Problem-solving within the community

6 As is the perennial question of the real autonomy of the Soba from local level government influences in those cases where they receive subsidies from local government, and/or are identified with the ruling the party, the MPLA.

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Perceptions of authority The survey also attempted to gauge ex-combatants’ relations with communities, and their perception of authority and hierarchy outside of the military structures of UNITA. While the question above (who would you turn to in case of problems) gives some indication of this, the authors asked an additional question: who do you consider to be the most important person in the community?

Figure 4.16 Ex-combatants’ perceptions of authority in the community Despite the fact that only slightly less than half of the respondents claimed that they would go to the Soba in case of problems, it appears that traditional authorities retain a strong symbolic importance in the minds of ex-combatants. The vast majority of respondents considered the Soba to be the most important person in the community – as can be seen in the table above. This was echoed in focus group discussions – the Soba was still regarded as a central figure by almost everyone. Nevertheless, while their symbolic authority was still respected, participants in focus group discussions recognized that the Sobas’ actual powers were, in practice, becoming more and more limited. The issue of trust may be paramount in this context. The Soba and church leaders, for example, are perceived to be more important than both the local state representative (the administrator) and the more openly politicized figures such as an MPLA or UNITA party representative. This may be evidence of a higher degree of trust in both Sobas and church leaders because local level government (in the form of the local administrator) is normally either an MPLA member or at least an appointee of the government. The local context and knowledge of individual leaders

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by ex-combatants almost certainly plays an additional role in determining the levels of trust and perceived authority of the different kinds of leaders. Community response to ex-combatants In the immediate aftermath of the war, a critical concern of humanitarian agencies as well as some government departments was that the simultaneous movement (organized and spontaneous) of return and resettlement of the different affected groups could increase the level of conflict at local level. The fact that several thousand former combatants as well as hundreds of thousands of displaced people “descended” with little or no support at the village level was viewed with some apprehension.7 How these different groups would relate to one another, and especially to those who stayed behind (residents), in a context of severe scarcity of resources was critical. In addition, and because former combatants were (to a certain extent) being targeted differently to other vulnerable groups, the prospect of rising friction at community level between civilians and recently demobilized soldiers was a working hypothesis for many involved in the resettlement and return process. As noted at the outset, this research aimed to understand whether, and to what extent, programs that target ex-combatants differently from other vulnerable groups actually inhibit reintegration. The programs might be reinforcing the sense of difference experienced by ex-combatants as well as the cleavages that might separate them from the communities that now received them. Assuming that successful reintegration is predicated on the positive transformation of modalities of behavior and, more importantly, identities formed under conditions of conflict, we asked the following question: could special treatment aimed at ex-combatants actually inhibit and delay reintegration? As a first step towards answering this question, the authors started by looking at the way in which communities received former combatants. Former combatants were asked the following questions: (1) do you consider yourself to have been well received by the community? and (2) what did the community do to receive (welcome) you? The answers obtained go some way toward explaining the type of relationship between former combatants and the communities living in areas of resettlement, but we should point out that the findings might be specific to the central highlands. The majority of ex-combatants (90 percent) said they were well received by the communities in which they resettled. In most cases, the reception involved allocation of land and housing, donation of material goods such as clothes, utensils or food, or the holding of some kind of meeting or party. Brief descriptions of these were given (food, alcohol, dancing) but none specifically mentioned any kind of formal welcome or traditional ceremony – although a traditional demobilization and purification ceremony for people who have killed someone does exist in the central highlands. It might simply not have been discussed, or it might not have taken place.8 7 See inter alia Gomes Porto and Parsons 2003. 8 In any case, the fact that most respondents did not mention any kind of formal reception on arrival is surprising given the normal level of formality in Angolan society, and invites further research.

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In an effort to further understand this aspect of the reintegration process, the authors attempted to assess to what extent this dimension featured in the expectations and experience of ex-soldiers. Interestingly, none of the respondents brought up traditional ceremonies in the context of the research’s general surveying on attitudes, either individually or within focus groups. However, when specifically probed via follow-on focus group work, all respondents acknowledged that not only had traditional ceremonies been important in the past as markers of change and social acceptance, but that ceremonies were, in many cases, expected by ex-soldiers and their families upon their return to civilian life. As one spouse of a former combatant said, “traditional ceremonies are synonymous with happiness, satisfaction, they lift morale of those that return, push away malign spirits and help everyone to forget sad events witnessed in the past: all this helps reintegration.” However, few of the respondents indicated that they had indeed experienced traditional welcoming and healing ceremonies. They ascribed this to a number of factors: the lack of financial resources needed to conduct the ceremonies amongst families and communities welcoming former combatants; the death or displacement of the elders who knew the traditions; and the fact some ex-combatants had settled in areas that were not their places of origin.

Figure 4.17 Community reception of ex-combatants (I) Of the 10 percent who said that they were not well received, the most common complaints were social – in the form of verbal abuse or social discrimination. A smaller number complained of lack of allocation of land, housing or other items. Overall, just under half said that they had been allocated land and/or housing – although this level is lower than had been assumed, it may reflect a strong link to house ownership (as previously noted standing at 45.3 percent) as well as land ownership (at 56 percent). Almost one third received food and/or other material

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goods (for example, clothes, money, kitchen utensils) and around one sixth were welcomed with a party or community meeting. Around 13 percent said they were neither welcomed nor given anything on arrival. This is just slightly higher than the number who specified that they were “not well received” and represents more or less the same group of people.

Figure 4.18 Community reception of ex-combatants (II) Political Dimensions of Reintegration The political dimensions of reintegration are often forgotten (or deliberately left aside) in the implementation of DDR programs. Furthermore, and with few exceptions, hardly any studies have paid attention to these critical elements of reintegration.9 At the outset of this research, we noted that beyond a commitment to demilitarization and an end to the use of violent means in the resolution of disputes, a deeper commitment by all at a social-political level is needed if postwar societies are to sustain the peace. This presupposes that the peaceful and active participation of former combatants in the political process of their societies must be regarded as a critical component of peace-building, and that successful reintegration depends not only on social acceptance and economic self-reliance but also on political participation. Moreover, and as noted by Kingma, “in the longer term the reintegration (also) depends on the process of democratisation, including the recovery of a weak (or collapsed) state and the maturing of an independent civil society” (Kingma 1999). In fact, political participation represents the culmination of the transformation of the soldier to citizen.

9

See for example Praxis Group 2000.

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As discussed in Chapter 2 above, the civil war in Angola came to a formal end with the signature of the Luena “Memorandum of Understanding.” The commitments undertaken by the belligerents at the Angolan National Assembly on 4 April 2002, in particular to resume the stalled Lusaka peace process, reflected a real change in circumstances prevailing in the country. Having experienced the consequences of two failed peace processes with catastrophic consequences, the belief in genuine political reconciliation between the former adversaries had up to that point appeared more and more elusive. Although a multitude of factors explain the breakdown of the two previous peace processes, the depth of distrust and suspicion that has historically characterized the relationship between the two belligerents is fundamental to an understanding of the intractability of Angola’s civil war. In fact, with the collapse of each peace process, the level of distrust and suspicion increased, further entrenching both parties in rigid positions, deepening their mutual hostility and feeding their perceptions of the other as a dishonest and untrustworthy adversary, ultimately bent on total annihilation. The corollary of this was that war came to an end in the battlefield and not at the negotiation table. At the time the fieldwork for this research began (January 2004) the government announced that legislative elections would be held at the end of 2006, following which presidential elections would be held – as of June 2007 neither election has taken place. Up to that point, both the government and UNITA had demonstrated a strong public commitment to peace and reconciliation, and the successful observation of the quartering, disarmament and demobilization process was often given as definitive proof that reconciliation was not at stake. Although highly situation- and actor-specific, combatants are often recruited on the basis of some kind of political project, and during their time with an armed movement they may experience constant mobilization on the basis of those goals. Although more research needs to be undertaken as regards the mobilization tactics used by and within UNITA, the words of General Paulo Lukamba “Gato” while president of the movement’s Management Committee in the immediate aftermath of the war hint at what he saw as the core “political nature” of all UNITA soldiers. When asked how he foresaw the transformation of UNITA from a military to a political movement he retorted: “we have always been a political movement. All of us joined UNITA first and foremost because we agreed with its political project. We became military people later.”10 In order to gauge the extent to which former combatants were aware and interested in the political process, the authors devised a series of questions that were included in the survey questionnaire. We asked former combatants: (1) have you heard about the next elections? (2) if so, from whom? (3) do you know of any political parties? (4) in your opinion, to vote is … (5) do you think elections are important to consolidate peace? (6) did you vote in the 1992 elections? (7) will you vote in the next elections? (8) will you participate in the election campaign? (9) if so, how?

10 Interview by J Gomes Porto, Luanda, 2002.

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Elections and voting When asked about whether they were aware of the next elections, the overwhelming majority of respondents (96 percent) responded positively. As can be seen in the table below, nearly all respondents considered elections important to the consolidation of peace in the country – this was echoed both in focus group discussions, as well as in the more qualitative responses in the survey. Table 4.12

Ex-combatants’ perceptions of elections

Most former combatants speak of elections as “allowing for the choice of a government that can attend to its people’s needs.” A minority of individuals in the survey, and several of the higher/middle ranking officers’ focus groups, specifically mentioned the need for a change in regime and the need for a new leader – and there were several references to the fact that the 1992 elections were “stolen” from UNITA. Interestingly, even very young ex-combatants referred to the 1992 elections in great detail, as if they had participated in them, indicating the importance they have assumed in popular memory. Community members interviewed in focus groups also viewed elections as important, but were a little more hesitant, more often citing the experience of 1992. Nearly three quarters of the respondents said that they voted in the 1992 elections. This reflects the fact that recruitment patterns after the outbreak of civil war favored the youth and approximately a quarter of the respondents were below 18 years of age at the time of the 1992 elections. Table 4.13

Ex-combatants and the 1992 elections

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There was a near universal positive response on the part of those interviewed to the question as to whether they would vote in the next elections. Table 4.14

Ex-combatants and the next elections

It is worthwhile comparing the results above, even if in a careful manner (due to differences in sample size, provinces targeted as well as profile of interviewees), with a survey on attitudes towards elections in Angola conducted on behalf of the International Republican Institute (IRI) during March and April 2003. The survey by IRI found that 72.9 percent of respondents in the six provinces surveyed outside Luanda (two of which correspond with our own, Huíla and Huambo) planned to vote in the next elections. If one includes Luanda, 68 percent of respondents to the IRI survey said they planned to vote in the next elections as can be seen below:

Figure 4.19 Will you vote in the next elections? (Survey by IRI during March/April 2003) IRI 2004.

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In our survey, 97.7 percent of former combatants claimed they planned to vote in the next elections. This result is evidence of their strong intention to exercise their right to vote – prefacing perhaps what the Praxis Group has termed the “point of no return”: “when combatants are asked to give up their arms, they face a point of ‘no return’: they, and their leaders must have faith in a future where the advantages of peace outweigh those of war” (Praxis Group 2000). A particularly strong response was elicited when ex-soldiers were asked how they would characterize voting, that is, in terms of “an obligation” owed to the government or UNITA, or as a citizenship right. In fact, more than 90 percent felt voting was a right. In addition, several focus groups made reference to the fact that they felt freer and more able to vote as citizens now because they were no longer under UNITA supervision, as they had effectively been in 1992.

Figure 4.20 In your opinion, voting is…? Knowledge of political parties Over 90 percent of the respondents knew about Angolan political parties and were able to identify the MPLA and UNITA. Other political parties (some of which were voted into Parliament in the 1992 elections such as the FpD, the PRS or PDP-ANA) were not well known by former combatants. This may be a consequence of the fact that, although the official electoral law allowing for multi-party competition was passed in 1991, resulting in a proliferation of political parties, the reversion to conflict after the 1992 elections brought with it de facto restrictions on political party activism across the country. Nonetheless, respondents were able to name a number of other parties, though these did not exceed 2.2 percent of the total.

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Table 4.15

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Ex-combatants’ knowledge of political parties (I)

The group who could only name the MPLA and UNITA was four times bigger than those who could name the MPLA, UNITA and the smaller, more recent parties (PRS, FpD, PDP-ANA and so on.). A minority indicated that they only knew of the newer parties – or perhaps that they saw only these as political parties and not military in some way. Table 4.16

Ex-combatants’ knowledge of political parties (II)

Political participation and party activism There is a notable split amongst respondents with respect to political activism. For example, slightly more than half (54.1 percent) indicated that they would be interested in taking part in an election campaign while 46 percent say they would not. It is worth underscoring that this is a particularly high level of interest in actively participating in politics in a post-conflict state. It might also help clarify the political mobilization which former combatants experienced while serving in UNITA, as mentioned earlier.

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Figure 4.21 Ex-combatants and electoral campaigning When asked how they would like to participate in electoral events, one fifth of the respondents said they would be interested in participating as candidates in a future election. An equivalent number said that they would be interested in organizing events (18.4 percent) and participating in events (21.4 percent). Table 4.17

Participation in electoral events

The question was asked to respondents who replied “yes” to “would you be interested in participating in an electoral campaign” and in some cases more that one response was given. Percentages are of the total number of respondents.

When contrasted with the findings of the IRI survey referred to above, a number of common elements are evident (as before, such a comparison must be done carefully due to differences in sample size, provinces targeted, and the profile of interviewees). In the IRI survey, respondents were surveyed for both “passive political participation” (essentially focusing on intentions to vote) as well as “active political participation” (which included membership of political parties, availability to work in an election campaign, and, finally willingness to stand as candidates).

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Interestingly, for our purposes here, were the findings which correlated political party membership and willingness to work in an election campaign and to stand as a candidate. The IRI survey found that political party membership is positively correlated with an individual’s availability to work as a political activist: 64.3 percent of those who are members of a political party are available for this type of work. This result (within those that are active members of political parties) is remarkably similar to the one obtained in our survey (54.1 percent) – even though one could not presume that all former combatants surveyed remained members or sympathisers of UNITA (IRI 2004). Information sources The source of information that predominates is the radio, with 83.4 percent of respondents using that as their key source – not dissimilar to the majority of Angolans who live outside Luanda and for whom the radio remains a primary (at times the sole) source of information. We should note that access to media information (television, radio and print media) is largely limited to Luanda and a few provincial capitals. Interestingly, the Soba appears in second place at 12.4 percent. Here too, the issue of trust may be a factor that strengthens the importance of traditional leaders as sources of information for their community. Other possible sources of information included UNITA (party) at 6.8 percent; while the government (government institutions), the MPLA (party) and newspapers received fewer than 5 percent of responses. An important distinction with respect to radio is which station is being listened to as a source of information. According to respondents, Angolan state radio is most listened to (33 percent), while international radio stations and Angolan independent radio stations have markedly lower listenership levels, at 17.2 percent and 8.5 percent, respectively. However, the figures on independent Angolan radio stations must be taken with some care because, at the time of the research, no independent Angolan radio station transmitted nationwide. The well-known case of Radio Ecclésia’s efforts to expand its coverage to the whole territory is a paradigmatic example here. Note that the low level of newspaper readership (under 3 percent) is due to the fact that there was no regular circulation of newspapers outside the capital at the time – making an equivalent analysis moot. Table 4.18

Ex-combatants’ sources of information: Radio

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Chapter 5

Reintegration: Variables, Trends, Correlations Surveying for an Urban/Rural Divide One of the questions that guided the survey design was to what extent, in the specific context of post-war Angola, there was a difference between those respondents based in urban areas and those based in rural areas. This was reflected in the choice of research locations and methodology employed – even if, as noted at the outset, the distinction between urban and rural in many areas of Angola is not clear cut. Research on reintegration in rural and urban contexts has produced markedly different results, denoting the importance of contextual variables. In his discussion on reintegration, Kingma concludes that rural reintegration evidences more chances of success as rural areas may have retained stronger supporting societal networks.1 Kingma’s conclusion is in line with Colletta et al’s work on the DDR program in Ethiopia. These authors note that, “by and large, rural reintegration was comparatively easier (…) many excombatants had a rural background and were, therefore, broadly familiar with the methods necessary for survival.” A number of factors were considered critical for successful rural reintegration: access to arable land, availability of agricultural inputs (particularly seeds, tools, and fertilizers), supportive social capital and some level of infrastructure reconstruction (Colletta et al 1996 (B), 77). As for urban reintegration, the complexity of labor markets and the unavailability of formal employment are often regarded as obstacles to the successful reintegration of former combatants. Underlying our approach were, first and foremost, assumptions regarding the differing socio-economic circumstances found in the research locations chosen. As noted in Chapter 1, understanding the context of war to peace transitions is critical, particularly in terms of issues such as security, the presence or otherwise of state structures, provision of basic services, infrastructure, opportunity structures, and social capital. Ultimately this is the context within which DDR programs are developed and reintegration components implemented. In Chapter 3 we provided a glimpse of the conditions pertaining in all three provinces in the immediate postwar period, highlighting the consequences of war to their socio-economic fabric. In that chapter, we focused on the local (municipality) level’s socio-economic and political context and found that, to varying degrees, but without exception, all areas were severely affected by the armed conflict. Devastation, state weakness and decay (perhaps felt to a lesser extent in Lubango), poverty, underdevelopment, and an

1

As cited in Knight and Ozerdem 2004, 503.

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overall lack of opportunities for formal employment and training characterized all areas chosen for research. Nevertheless, did former combatants have wider and better possibilities of finding employment in the formal and informal economies in more urbanized areas, while perhaps experiencing challenges of a different nature (such as on a social and political level)? To what extent would the socializing effects of urban life be observed and what implications – if at all – might these have for former combatants’ successful reintegration? Indeed, the sense of the importance of the urban/rural distinction was something that came out in some of the focus group interviews: The awareness of people who live in rural and urban (city) environments is very different. Urban people are more informed and advanced, while rural people have no access to information (Focus Group, Lubango).

A classic (while context insensitive) reading of the process might see rural, traditionbound villagers moving to the relatively atomized, anonymous and socially less prescriptive environment of the town or city, and being absorbed into that very environment. In fact, what happened under the conditions of rapid, forced migration to urban areas during the many decades of war was quite the contrary: urban life became “ruralized” in certain respects. Rural social structures were replicated to the extent that they could be in urban and peri-urban settings, and all this happened in the face of the breakdown of centralizing institutions and physical infrastructure. This was particularly observed in Lubango, which as noted above, was for many years a relatively safe haven for waves of internal migration. The progressive ruralization of urban environments is a process which, although characteristic of the rapid urbanization observed in many sub-Saharan African countries, takes on a special significance in war to peace transitions, where large scale displacement has taken place – impacting not only on the ability of states to provide basic services to their populations but also affecting the patterns of social formation in peri-urban areas, migration patterns and previewing the shape of society in the post-conflict order. Our survey (with a few exceptions) did not find significant differences between rural and urban-based respondents with respect to the many questions involving reintegration. The fact that an urban/rural divide was less meaningful than it otherwise might have been may partly be attributed to the fluidity of population movements (significant rural to urban or peri-urban migration being a common experience in the central plateau region), as well as to very similar levels of vulnerability and employment opportunities. Nevertheless, because distinctions between what constitutes rural and urban may have introduced some distortions into the data collected, urban/rural trends identified in the data analysis were checked for variations by municipality. Significant variations resulting from this secondary analysis are discussed below – where they are not mentioned it can be assumed that they did not appear, and to the best of our knowledge, the relationship holds. Firstly, reintegration as perceived by the ex-combatants did vary slightly depending upon whether the respondent was based in a rural (79.5 percent) or urban (72.2 percent) area. Nevertheless, when asked if they considered themselves to be reintegrated, or saw themselves as civilian, demobilized or military, a remarkably similar response was elicited from rural and urban participants in the survey:

Reintegration: Variables, Trends, Correlations

Table 5.1

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Perceptions of reintegration in rural and urban areas

However, when the data is broken down by municipality and province, a different picture appears – in both Bié province (Andulo and Kuíto) and Huambo province (Huambo Sede and Vila Nova), ex-combatants in urban areas were more likely to view themselves as civilians. In Huíla (Lubango and Chipindo), the relationship is reversed, and those in urban areas were considerably less likely to view themselves as civilians. This is interesting because Lubango is, by generally accepted standards of urban life, the only real city in this data sample.2 In Andulo, former combatants exhibited a relatively lower propensity to view themselves as “civilians” (39.5 percent of respondents versus, for example, 62.1 percent in Huambo). One could infer that the Andulo response might have been obtained because, at the time of the survey, former combatants had received WFP food assistance and (for the first time since the end of the war) seeds and tools. They would not have wanted their status as “former combatants” questioned at that precise moment in time. However, a similar situation was encountered in Vila Nova (Huambo), where the proportion of those who regarded themselves as “civilians” was considerably higher. One possible explanation may instead be associated with the generally high levels of political activism exhibited by ex-combatants in Andulo – focus groups done in Andulo show a higher level of political awareness and a stronger degree of association with UNITA than seen elsewhere. … the term demobilised or ex-combatant will take time to disappear because even though he is no longer involved in military activity, he has military attitudes and reservations that result from the time spent in the military forces [sic]. Furthermore, civilians within communities use this term [demobilised] to be able to more easily identify within the community as someone who belonged to UNITA in the past (Focus Group, middleranking officers, Andulo).

2 However, this does not seem to correlate with ex-combatants’ identity perceptions of themselves – although the overall dataset does correlate. The correlation holds in Huambo Province and Bié (less strongly), but not in Huila.

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Table 5.2

Identity by municipality

Moreover, the reception experienced by the ex-combatants did not vary significantly between rural and urban respondents, though there was some variation by province and municipality. An interesting finding from a number of focus group discussions, and one that requires further research, regards the possible role played by “witchcraft.” Several focus group discussions indicated that ex-combatants were sometimes fearful of returning to rural areas because of “witchcraft” – preferring to move to more built-up, urbanized areas. One focus group of young ex-combatants in Huambo made reference to this, claiming that it was easier to settle in the city: ... here in the city one is well received whatever one’s circumstances; that does not happen to those that go to the villages because if they have valuable possessions or land they will be submitted to witchcraft (Focus Group, Young Ex-combatants, Huambo city).

A very strong sense of entitlement to training and jobs was manifested in the survey responses of people in the urban areas (97 percent) versus a somewhat less pronounced but still significant sense amongst those in the rural areas (85.3 percent).

Reintegration: Variables, Trends, Correlations

Table 5.3

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Reception in urban and rural areas

Data missing in 2 cases, not included here.

Figure 5.1

Right to training/jobs in urban and rural areas

General attitudes toward elections did not vary between respondents in the urban or rural areas and the same could be said with respect to political party activism (not pictured), short of actual candidacy. With respect to attitudes towards elections, surveying for a rural–urban divide did not produce any significant results. However, when looking for differences in attitude toward political party participation, it becomes evident that a slightly greater percentage of urban respondents were willing to participate in election campaigns than those in the rural areas.3 The difference is more marked when the authors inquired whether respondents were interested in being candidates for office: here 27.3 percent of the urban-based respondents said they would be interested while only 18.4 percent of the rural-based 3 Again, a parallel with the survey produced by IRI may be highlighted. On the issue of “willingness to work in the next elections as part of a campaign,” the survey found that the majority lived in a peri-urban area – 67.4 percent (IRI 2004).

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respondents said they would. This might be a function of increased exposure to government bureaucracy and the expectation that working for government results in substantial benefits experienced by former combatants in urban areas (particularly in provincial capitals). In contrast to farmers, those in the wage labor sector of towns and cities were more likely to consider political careers. Again, while the trend is constant, it appears that the highest level of political activism is found in Kuíto – 48 percent of urban ex-combatants were willing to stand as a candidate, as opposed to just 17 percent in Huambo or 25 percent in Huila. Table 5.4

Willingness to stand as candidates in rural and urban areas

When the rural–urban dimension is correlated with knowledge of political parties, the majority of respondents in both rural and urban areas (70.8 percent) knew only the major parties, that is, the MPLA, UNITA, and the FNLA. Only a fifth of respondents (18 percent in rural areas and 21.8 percent in urban areas) knew the major parties as well as the newer parties. Table 5.5

Knowledge of political parties in urban and rural areas

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Surveying for Economic Standing, Livelihoods and Expectations A major working hypothesis of the literature on reintegration of ex-combatants is that reintegration depends on the successful establishment of economic livelihoods. This operates on two levels: firstly because sustainable economic livelihoods are seen as a crucial and free-standing element of reintegration, and secondly because economic independence is seen as supporting other elements of social and political reintegration. As noted in Chapter 1 above, social and economic reintegration are indeed critical components of peacebuilding – yet they are particularly difficult to achieve in the time frames that are so often used in the design and implementation of reintegration programs. In Angola, the authors found that, as with other population groups in the country, in particular the displaced, the former combatant had yet to achieve a level of economic reintegration which will allow him/her to move beyond the levels of vulnerability experienced. We should recall that our survey was undertaken two years after the end of the war. As described above, the former combatant was overly dependent on secondary assistance from humanitarian agencies, and was likely to move between medium vulnerability and high vulnerability depending on whether the agricultural season was good or bad. While the vast majority of former combatants considered themselves entitled to a job and/or some kind of training, the average ex-combatant was unable to find either formal or informal employment – largely a result, as noted above, of the overall conditions of the economy and the lack of formal qualifications and training. Once again the socio-economic environment in which the ex-combatant finds himself (locally, regionally, and nationally) at the time of reintegration is of critical importance – both as an enabler as well as an obstacle to sustainable reintegration (see next Chapter 6 for more on this). As correctly noted by the GTZ, “too little attention has been given thus far to the economic setting in which the war ended and the demobilisation implemented” (GTZ 2001). How do economic factors affect former combatants’ sense of being reintegrated into society? In order to assess this, the authors began by correlating their sense of reintegration with the provision of emergency reinsertion support at the time of demobilization (reintegration kit and subsidy) – largely considered a fundamental type of support in the immediate resettlement phase. Monetary reinsertion support may play a critical role in the immediate resettlement period because it is designed to enable the former combatant to ease his initial resettlement and return. It should be recalled that only 53.1 percent of the former combatants interviewed confirmed they had received the subsidy and as to the demobilization kit, only 59.7 percent of respondents had received it. Although, statistically speaking, no correlation can be inferred on the basis of the data, it does seem that more of those who did not receive reintegration kits and subsidies also did not consider themselves reintegrated – just over a quarter as opposed to one fifth for those who did receive them. Of the total, around 12 percent did not receive a kit or a subsidy (the proportion is roughly the same in each group) and also reported not feeling reintegrated. A similar correlation was inferred regarding their sense of reintegration and house ownership. To what extent does

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Table 5.6

From Soldiers to Citizens

Perception of being reintegrated, and receipt of reintegration kit and reintegration subsidy

owning (as well as renting or loaning) a house contribute to former combatants’ sense of being reintegrated? Here the relationship is clearer. As can be seen in Table 5.7 below, 60 percent of those without a house (whether owned, rented or loaned) did not consider themselves reintegrated – although the number of respondents in this category was very small (just five). Firm conclusions could only be derived from a larger sample. This is in sharp contrast to those who either owned a house (81 percent), lived in a relative’s house (74 percent) or had a house which was loaned to them (83 percent). Table 5.7

Perception of being reintegrated and house ownership

The authors then correlated the respondent’s own sense of reintegration with economic standing. As expected, former combatants who have some type of economic activity (in order of importance: manual trade, public sector, informal commerce and agriculture) evidenced a high sense of being fully part of the society (70–86 percent). It is perhaps not surprising that those with permanent formal employment in the public sector were among those with the highest sense of reintegration. Only those with occupations in manual trade showed a higher sense of reintegration. The number of ex-combatants formally employed in the private sector was too small for firm conclusions to be drawn (only 2 out of over 600 surveys).

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Table 5.8

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Perception of being reintegrated and main economic activity

What about former combatants’ expectations? How did they affect their sense of being reintegrated? Former combatants’ expectations regarding their future livelihoods revealed that finding a job was the most important priority (29 percent of responses); followed by access to professional training (25 percent); access to arable land (18 percent); and continuing their studies (14 percent). Most notable was that the majority within the sub-group who did not consider themselves reintegrated thought that their expectations on demobilization had not been met (73 percent). This finding corroborates our initial assertion that DDR programs often create unrealistic expectations, which may compromise their very success. Furthermore, this strengthens our belief that at demobilization, actors involved in DDR programs should research former combatants’ prospects bearing in mind a very close and realistic assessment of the post-war environment (particularly as pre-discharge information programs are developed). In war to peace transitions, the immediate post war environment poses considerable obstacles to a comprehensive assessment of critical reintegration variables such as levels of vulnerability of all populations affected by the armed conflict, social and economic baseline information, market and opportunity structures, community absorption capacities – sufficient time and resources must be therefore given to the development of these assessments. Furthermore, as noted above, these baseline studies can strengthen the development of national recovery plans, poverty reduction strategies and the like – which, as noted, usually take place when the former combatant (as well as other displaced groups) has already resettled and returned. In almost all cases surveyed, the main reasons given by ex-combatants for their sense of unmet expectations upon demobilization were financial and opportunity

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related (lack of income, lack of qualifications, lack of jobs, lack of training courses). Results from focus group discussions and key informant interviews reinforced the point made above on expectations at the time of demobilization: because of the promises made during the cantonment period, the responsibility for the provision of employment and training opportunities was regarded, by and large, as a government responsibility. From Andulo to Chipindo, from Muembessi to Lubango, former combatants continued to wait for the government to provide jobs and training. Undoubtedly, the issue of unmet “expectations” – as a function of unrealistic and unachievable promises made during quartering periods – remains an important obstacle to sustainable reintegration. Responses to the question “what could facilitate your reintegration?” were therefore unsurprising. Over half those surveyed were adamant: “a job,” with “training” the next most common response, given by over a third of ex-combatants. A slightly higher proportion of those who did not consider themselves reintegrated also felt that they were entitled to a job or training (94 percent versus 87 percent), but the relationship is not statistically significant and may also simply reflect the fact that this sub-group was less likely to have a job. Of these, 81 percent felt the government should be responsible for this, 9 percent NGOs, and only 2 percent UNITA. Future plans of the self-assessed “non-reintegrated” were predominantly to remain where they were (88 percent), although this may reflect a perception of lack of opportunity more than a choice. If given the opportunity, more than half of them would relocate – most commonly for economic reasons. While there is not a big difference between urban and rural areas in terms of those who would like to move if given the opportunity, a larger proportion of those in rural areas expected to remain where they were, representing half as many as the number who actually want to stay. A further breakdown of ex-combatants’ future expectations and plans indicates that another factor (in addition to the perception of opportunity) is the ex-combatant’s previous link to the location where he has resettled. Less difference is noted in terms of those who expect to remain (though those in a location they have never lived in before are more likely to expect to move), but the difference (if the opportunity arises) is striking. Over 70 percent of those who resettled in their birthplace intend to remain there, as opposed to less than half for all other categories. Surveying for Land Ownership/Access In the Angolan context, with its preponderance of small scale subsistence agriculture, it is necessary to examine the role of access to and ownership of land in the reintegration process. An obvious problem in doing so is assessing what constitutes ownership, given the customary traditions and the socialist heritage of state intervention in this country. However, based on the data that the authors were able to obtain, it would appear that, in certain specific instances, land ownership or access to land does exercise influence over attitudes and participation. This is particularly the case when one narrows the focus and looks at the amount of land held. In the first instance, however, correlating land ownership and access with perceptions of reintegration does not appear to exercise a significant influence: the sense of being reintegrated is roughly equivalent between those with land or access to it (78.4 percent) and

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those without land (73 percent). This would seem to contradict much of the existing literature and policy on reintegration, as access to and ownership of land is widely regarded as the main determinants to successful reintegration in rural areas. Table 5.9

Perceptions of reintegration by land ownership

* Data missing in 3 cases (not included here).

Nevertheless, the authors found that although there seems to be no significant relationship between the means of access to land (ownership, renting or loan), the quantity does appear to have an effect, as evident in the table below. The more land an ex-combatant has access to, the more likely s/he is to consider him/herself reintegrated into society. Table 5.10

Perceptions of reintegration by land area

* Data missing in 12 cases (not included here).

More importantly, when the authors correlated land ownership and own perceptions of identity (as civilians, military or demobilized) a lack of land appears to have a direct impact on ex-combatants’ own identity perception. In fact, only one third of those with no access to land regarded themselves as civilians (34.1 percent) against 57.6 percent of those with land ownership/access. As the table below shows, there is also an interesting correlation between those who view themselves as “demobilized” and land ownership/access in the fact that 64.9 percent of respondents with no access to or ownership to land still see themselves as “demobilized.” As in other correlations

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discussed, this may be related to expectations: by holding to the demobilized identity, the former combatant hopes that at some point some of his needs (and promises made at the time of demobilization) will be addressed. It may also reveal that, in the sensitive political and security context of demobilization and reintegration in postwar Angola, the former combatant may be concerned of the possible consequences that questioning his status may posed. Table 5.11

Perceptions of identity by land access/ownership

* Data missing in 1 case (not included here).

With respect to community reception of ex-combatants, there is an important variance between those with land or access to it (92.8 percent) and those without (82.7 percent). Although it is impossible to establish causality, it appears that the way in which an ex-combatant is received by the community may be related to their access to land. It was not within the scope of this survey to probe further into these cases, but previous research on land and reintegration has shown that, while not the norm, a subgroup of ex-combatants returning to rural areas did find themselves denied access to their ancestral land and/or not allocated a new piece of land (Development Workshop, 2004). This may well be what has taken place here – the ex-combatant’s perception of having been poorly received may have been linked to land conflicts or lack of available free land for allocation, which has left the ex-combatant landless. Table 5.12

Reception by the community and land access

* Data missing in 3 cases (not included here).

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In addition, it seems that quantity of land also has an impact here. While a good reception and more land are correlated for lower quantities, the authors found an inverted correlation between those with more than two hectares of land and their reception into the community. This may be due to a perception on the part of communities that the excombatant had returned “to take away their land” and might indicate that it is relatively harder for “wealthier” ex-combatants to reintegrate into communities. This might also be linked to the belief that, in rural areas, “witchcraft” is likely to be practiced against excombatants who return with material goods, as explained in focus groups cited above. Table 5.13

Community reception and land area

* Data missing in 8 cases (not included here).

In the area of political participation, although attitudes toward elections and rights to vote remained roughly the same, the sense of entitlement to training and jobs increased amongst those without land (see below). This was slightly more pronounced when respondents were asked whether the government was responsible for providing training and jobs. Some 82 percent of the landless held the government accountable in this area, versus 78 percent of those with land. More striking is the fact that political organizational membership is twice as high amongst those without land (10.3 percent) as it is among those with land (5.8 percent) – a finding that requires further investigation. The rural/urban divide also needs to be factored in because party membership is more common in urban areas, and ex-combatants in urban areas are less dependent on land as a source of their economic livelihoods. Table 5.14

Membership of political organisations and land ownership/access

* Data missing in 1 case (not included here).

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The quantity of land seems to be significant only in that those with no land and those with more than 2 ha are equally likely to be active in political organizations – while those with less than 2 ha of land are least likely to be involved. Table 5.15

Membership of political organisations and land area

While this finding might be an anomaly, it could indicate a relationship between economic standing (and in particular poverty) and membership of political organizations. It is interesting to recall the IRI survey in this regard. In that survey, the average profile of party sympathisers and members seems to indicate a correlation between low levels of income and political party membership. 40.8 percent of party members and 38.5 percent of party sympathisers were likely to be poor or in a precarious situation – 31.3 percent and 32.5 percent respectively (IRI 2004). The means by which ex-combatants have access to land also appears to be related to their membership of political organizations, although the numbers renting or being loaned are small so it is hard to draw any definite conclusions. That said, those with no land or who have been loaned land (which implies a more precarious economic situation and/or a land conflict pending resolution) are considerably more likely to be members of political organizations than those who own or rent land.

Reintegration: Variables, Trends, Correlations

Table 5.16

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Membership of political organisations according to land ownership

* Data missing in 8 cases (not included here).

Surveying for Social Networks In Chapter 1, we noted that a growing number of authors have emphasized, as of late, the importance of the community for the successful reintegration of former combatants. It is now believed (if not always practiced) that support for reintegration in the post-resettlement phase should in fact be channelled through the community rather than directly to the individual former combatant. This has stemmed from the recognition that in many war to peace transitions, the variety of different groups which are directly and indirectly affected by armed conflict and which find themselves at the mercy of relief agencies in highly vulnerable, desperate situations, require very similar assistance. Moreover, communities are considered key to the longer term reintegration of all groups affected by armed conflict – becoming the center around which all reintegration efforts should gravitate. Communities (of inclusion but also exclusion) in fact mediate the experiences of individual ex-combatants, shaping identity formation (and transformation) and influencing the trajectory and utility of the networks in which they participate. This realization leads us to another guiding assumption of much of the work on reintegration, one borrowed from “social capital” theory – that individuals who are embedded within associational life, the stuff of “social capital,” are likely to be more knowledgeable as well as active participants in the civil and economic life of the

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polity. Social networks are impossible to “measure” concretely, but they can be inferred through subjective and objective surveys aimed at individuals and members of the community. Three main lines of investigation were pursued: (1) ex-combatants’ previous links to community and the presence of family networks; (2) interpersonal relationships (with whom ex-combatants spend their time, to whom they turn for help with problems); and (3) formal membership of community organizations. The first, that of the “previous relationship between an ex-combatant and a community,” might be expected to affect the way in which the ex-combatant is viewed by the community – an individual returning to his home and family might “fit in” more easily than an outsider who is easily recognizable as an ex-combatant. However, an equally valid hypothesis is that the reverse may be true – knowledge of an ex-combatant’s military past and actions may also prejudice a community against him. From the data, it appears that both may be true. Those returning to their birthplace or somewhere they had previously lived were considerably more likely to be well received than those returning to a place where they had been stationed while with UNITA. Table 5.17

Community reception according to previous inhabitancy

* Data missing in 5 cases (not included here).

However, while a person in this subgroup consistently appears to be less likely to see himself as reintegrated, resettlement in a place where he has never lived does not appear to be a major obstacle to reintegration. Those who settle in a new place are only marginally less likely to be well received. In addition, they reveal similar perceptions of their own identity and reintegration to respondents who were either born in the community where they have resettled or lived in that community before military service.

4 Classic analyses of social capital include Putnam 1993, Coleman 1998, and Fukuyama 1995. See also the excellent critique of the social capital literature by Schuurman 2003.

Reintegration: Variables, Trends, Correlations

Table 5.18

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Identity perceptions according to previous links to community

* Data missing in 6 cases (not included here).

This can be partly explained by the fact (established by this and previous DW research in 2004) that most ex-combatants who resettle in a place where they have not previously lived, choose to do so because family relatives live in that place. These family networks significantly increase the probability of ex-combatants being wellreceived. Again, this backs up previous research by DW that showed family networks were crucial to enabling ex-combatants in rural areas to obtain land on arrival – surely a major part of a “good reception.” Focus groups also indicated, almost universally, that the existence of family networks was the major factor enabling ex-combatants to find employment, followed by possession of documentation, and money to pay small bribes/buy presents (in Angola known as gasosa). Table 5.19

Community reception according to presence of family

* Data missing in 3 cases (not included here).

However, the effect of family networks on ex-combatants’ perceptions of whether or not they are reintegrated cannot be considered significant – additional factors must therefore be at play determining ex-combatants’ own perception of reintegration. It is worth noting that communities reveal a certain degree of ambivalence towards exmilitary personnel when probed during focus group discussions. While most profess that there is no particular difference between ex-combatants and other members

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of the community, when asked whether they would prefer to employ an ex-soldier or a civilian (or if there was no difference), all said they would hire the civilian. The importance of trust comes to the fore – trust is of critical importance for the successful reintegration of former combatants within communities in their chosen areas of resettlement. The considerable disagreement in academic circles as to the relative importance of trust in the development of social capital notwithstanding (in particular theories which emphasize the associational network component of social capital), this is a very important variable and one that must be taken into account.5 In fact, an ex-combatant’s previous ties to a community are also a very strong influence on their future plans and hopes. Ex-combatants were asked whether they expected to remain in their current location in the future, and then, whether, if given the opportunity, they would prefer to stay or to move. More details on the reasons for each choice were also gathered. From the data, it seems that the vast majority (96 percent) of those who have returned to their birthplace expect to stay, versus 75 percent who have settled in a place where they have never lived before. More striking still is their preference if the choice were available – 70 percent of those in their birthplace would still choose to remain, but almost half of all the others would actually prefer to move. Resettlement in the place of origin does, therefore, seem to make an ex-combatant considerably more likely to want to remain there. There is some distortion introduced here since ex-combatants not returning to their place of origin appear to be more commonly found in urban areas (35 percent of the urban population as opposed to 11 percent of the rural), whereas in rural areas surveyed, 77 percent had returned to their place of origin (37 percent in urban areas). There is also a significant difference in most cases between the preferences of ex-combatants in urban and rural areas (see table below). In addition, while it still appears that resettling in the place of origin is a significant factor – since in both urban and rural areas around 70 percent would choose to remain – it also seems that for other groups, who do not have ties of ancestry and birthright, there is no strong preference to remain or stay if resettled in an urban area. In fact, the majority of these would rather move away from communities in rural areas. This does appear to suggest that ties of kinship and birthright are an important factor in binding an ex-combatant to a community, and make them more likely to choose to resettle over the medium to long term.6 5 As noted by Schuurman, “in an enlightening contribution to the 2000 Exeter conference on social capital, Pippa Norris (2000) emphasized the difference between social capital and trust. Using data from the World Values Study surveys and the UNDP Human Development Index, she noted that ‘Social capital is associated with socioeconomic development … but this link appears to operate through social trust not civic society’ (Norris, 2000: 12). According to Norris’s findings, Putnam is ‘at least half right’ in the sense that, of the two components of social capital, it is primarily social trust and not associational networks that seems the most active component related to democratic development” (Schuurman 2003, 1001). 6 Central to this may be the fact that birthright in particular is a central part of customary law, which still largely dictates land access and inheritance in rural Angola but is being overtaken by other more commercial factors in and around urban areas. It is thus more difficult for an “outsider” to resettle in a rural area than an urban one, and to acquire the land and goods necessary for an effective resettlement and reintegration.

Reintegration: Variables, Trends, Correlations

Table 5.20

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Previous links to community and intentions to remain

While the presence of family networks and previous ties to a community are relatively easy to identify, the less visible ties of acquaintance and friendship, which are an equally valid part of social capital, are harder to test for. Ex-combatants were asked with whom they generally spent their time, and to whom they turn for help with problems. As noted, former combatants tended to spend more time with their families (442 responses) followed by other former combatants (178 responses), and with fellow church members (143 responses). We found that, in general, who excombatants spend their time with is not a significant factor when correlated against their own perceptions of reintegration – regardless of whom they spent time with, around 75 percent considered themselves reintegrated. When asked who they turned to for help with problems, there is no clear correlation in terms of perceptions of reintegration although certain responses stand out: those who would turn to a government representative (usually the administrator) are the most likely to also consider themselves reintegrated (85 percent), while those who would turn to a UNITA representative are the least likely to consider themselves as reintegrated (71 percent). Overall, however, there is little difference between those who do consider themselves reintegrated and those who do not, or between “civilians” and “demobilized” in terms of who they would turn to. In all cases, around half the ex-combatants would turn to the Soba, and the remainder are divided between the family (around 30 percent), the church (around 10 percent), and friends (around 8 percent), with only a small minority selecting political representatives (around 4 percent each for government and UNITA). Perceptions of authority also

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appear to be only selectively related to the degree of reintegration of ex-combatants. Some 91 percent of those who thought the administrator the most important figure in the community also considered themselves reintegrated – as opposed to 77 percent of the overall caseload. Overall, the Soba is still considered the most important figure in the community regardless of ex-combatants’ perceptions of their own identity or reintegration. The figure of the UNITA representative appears in answers to the question on which information sources ex-combatants have access to. It seems that those who claimed that a UNITA representative was among their main sources of information are also less likely to consider themselves reintegrated. Table 5.21

Perception of being reintegrated and principal source of information

The figure of 59 percent – those for whom a UNITA representative was a principal source of information who also consider themselves reintegrated – can also be compared with 86 percent of those who named a government representative. Thus, the sources of information to which ex-combatants have access do seem to have an influence on their perceptions of their own reintegration. When one correlates opinions on elections with information source, it emerges that slightly less than 5 percent of those who cite the soba and radio as their primary sources believe elections are not important. Finally, moving on to more formal criteria, membership (or not) of an organization did not seem to have any significant effect on respondents’ sense of being reintegrated. However, upon breakdown by municipality, a more complicated picture emerges. Statistically, the relationship is only significant in Andulo, where 50 percent of those who were members of an organization saw themselves as civilians, whereas only 34 percent of those who were not saw themselves as civilians. The implication is that excombatants who are members of an organization are more likely to see themselves as civilians. In Kuíto there is also an apparent relationship, because 41 percent who are members of organizations consider themselves reintegrated, as opposed to a higher 58 percent of those who are not – that is, the relationship is reversed. In this area, ex-combatants who are members of organizations are less likely to see themselves as civilians.

Table 5.22

Views on elections versus information sources available

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7 cases of datamissing excluded here. 129

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Table 5.23

From Soldiers to Citizens

Identity and organisational membership (by municipality)

The variations can perhaps be explained by the type of organization ex-combatants are members of – for example, being a member of an organization composed of demobilized soldiers might be unlikely to predispose ex-combatants to regard themselves as civilians. Being a member of a church or a non-political, communitybased organization might assist in reintegrating an ex-combatant and breaking down a militarized identity. In support of this theory, Kuíto, in which organizational membership predisposes an ex-combatant to consider themselves as demobilized, also shows the highest level of membership of political organizations – one in eight. And although Andulo is not far behind, it stands out as exhibiting a strong correlation (valid in Andulo alone) between church/religious organization membership and a civilian identity (see below). In Andulo, it appears that ex-combatants who are members of a church or religious organization (as almost two thirds are) are roughly twice as likely to see themselves as civilians as those who are non-church members. In Kuíto, on the other hand, the relationship between churches and reintegration is not significant.

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Table 5.24

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Identity by organisational membership

The question “do you consider you are reintegrated into civilian life?” does not produce identical results to the identity question, and there is once again no straightforward correlation with organizational membership at the aggregate level. A breakdown by organizational type produces more useful results. Table 5.25

Perceptions of identity by organisational membership

Some variation by municipality does seem to exist. Generally, membership of a religious organization does appear to be an advantage in terms of reintegration across the different regions, except in Vila Nova where the relationship is, for some reason, reversed. However when church membership is checked for instead of religious organization, the relationship in Vila Nova weakens and becomes insignificant. Political membership generally seems to follow the trend shown above – linked to weaker feelings of reintegration and the “demobilized identity.” However, while it has a particularly strong impact in Andulo, the relationship is reversed in Lubango. No demobilized soldiers were members of political organizations in Huambo city, so it is difficult to establish whether this is an urban/rural trend, or has another basis. Ex-combatants who were members of an organization did not exhibit particularly different responses to those who weren’t when it came to community reception. Attitudes towards elections also did not vary significantly according to organizational membership – especially given that virtually the entire survey group viewed elections

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Table 5.26

From Soldiers to Citizens

Perceptions of reintegration by membership of political organisations (by municipality)

Percentage within Political organization.

as important and believed they had the right to vote as Angolan citizens. The survey also showed little difference in the level of knowledge of political parties when general organizational membership was checked for. Surveying for Military Rank In the course of interrogating the data for significant correlations, the role of military rank has sometimes been suggested as an important factor in determining attitude towards reintegration. Indeed, some work on reintegration in other settings has suggested that under certain circumstances, middle ranking officers who are dissatisfied with the outcomes of peace might constitute a significant threat. This is

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because they have the know-how and are ideally positioned to find and command the loyalty of former combatants’ networks (towards a renewal of hostilities but also criminal aims). The general picture one gets of the influence of rank is that the middle ranking officers have a much stronger sense of a shared outlook on a variety of issues relating to reintegration. Self-perceptions of reintegration, as seen through the divisions within the military, do appear to vary, from 50 percent of the colonels defining themselves as “civilians” to 53.3 percent of the privates defining themselves as “civilians” (40 percent of colonels and lieutenant colonels when the two ranks are combined). The lowest rates are to be found amongst middle ranking officers (lieutenant-colonel, majors and captains), of whom a majority see themselves as “demobilized” rather than as “civilians.” Table 5.27

Perception of being reintegrated and military rank

Table 5.27 above shows that majors are the least likely to feel reintegrated into civilian life, at only 55 percent versus rates of 70 percent and 80 percent amongst other ranks. As with the overall responses to this survey question, which found that a quarter of all ex-soldiers surveyed did not characterize themselves as civilians, these findings could be interpreted as lending weight to the view that this category of officer is especially volatile (that is, prone to dissatisfaction). It is also worth noting that one alternative explanation for these responses is that senior officers interpreted the category of “demobilized” as reflecting the formal situation in which they found themselves – that is to say, they had not been pensioned off but are rather “in the reserves” at the time of the survey.

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Focus group discussions with high/middle-ranking officers in Andulo, for example, revealed the following view of reintegration “a former combatant ceases to be a former combatant when he is totally part of society – that is, when he can find a certain job and his children go to school” [our emphasis]. For these former combatants then, the fact that the majority of them are unemployed, may be directly correlated with the absence of civilian status. A similar view was expressed by the high/middle-ranking officers’ focus group in the commune of Mitcha, Lubango, Huíla province – they believed that much depended on each combatant’s economic independence. The reception experienced by the different military personnel varies, hovering around 90 percent in almost every instance. This is interesting when compared to the focus group material (Lubango; Chipindo) in which key informants representing UNITA stated categorically that there were numerous cases of discrimination by local officials in the provision of housing, jobs, and so on. Perhaps a distinction needs to be made between the public’s reception of the ex-combatants and that of government officials. Table 5.28

Perception of reception by the community and military rank

Regarding entitlement to training and a job, the statistics on military rank and sense of entitlement do not elicit significant differences from the general findings. But, when asked who should provide these, the higher ranking officers are clearer (100 percent) in assigning responsibility to the government. Here again, the majors stand out as holding a distinctively different position to the rest: only 50 percent believe that the government should be responsible and they assign the highest figure (25 percent) to the NGO community.

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Table 5.29

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Attitude to jobs/training by military rank

Looking at the data for which expectations are held by different ranks suggests that lower ranks (privates) had particular expectations of receiving land upon being demobilized. By contrast, middle-ranking officers had higher expectations of training and education. When it comes to whether they believed their desires for demobilization had been realized, well over a third of all ranks said these had not been met. And, arguably most important of all, the senior ranks were nearly universal in designating the government as responsible for providing jobs and training, while figures are nearly as high for the lower ranks.

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Table 5.30

From Soldiers to Citizens Respondents sometimes gave more than one answer. Percentages reflect the proportion of the ex-combatants of a particular rank who gave that response.

Chapter 6

From Soldiers to Citizens: Reconceptualizing Reintegration Introduction Metaphorically, peace is seen not merely as a stage in time or a condition. It is a dynamic social construct. Such a conceptualisation requires a process of building, involving investment and materials, architectural design and coordination of labour, laying of foundation, and detailed finished work, as well as continuing maintenance (Lederach 1997, 20).

Our aim in this volume was to deepen the understanding of demilitarization in war to peace transitions, by providing a comprehensive discussion of DDR, and in particular, the reintegration process. To arrive at this, the authors combined an academic and policy literature review with the empirical assessment of a specific reintegration experience, that of former UNITA combatants in three of the most contested provinces in the Angolan civil war. Underlying this research were questions relating to the factors that may facilitate or impede reintegration; the experience of reintegration for both former combatants as well as other vulnerable groups; the relationship between identity and reintegration; and, finally, the meaning of reintegration in contexts of weak, enervated or collapsed states. In this concluding chapter, the authors will reflect on a series of issue clusters which emerged from the analysis above. These issue clusters are: (i) Focusing on the Long Term: From Reinsertion to Reintegration; (ii) Reintegration and Vulnerability in War to Peace Transitions; (iii) Targeting the Community: Reintegration and Social Capital; and finally, (iv) Reintegration and Political Participation. Focusing on the Long Term: From Reinsertion to Reintegration The intention of peacebuilding is to create a structure of peace that is based on justice, equity, and cooperation (i.e., positive peace), thereby addressing the underlying causes of conflicts so that they become less likely in the future (Gawrec 2006, 439).

The dilemmas and difficult choices faced by policy and implementing agencies in supporting and implementing DDR programs in war to peace transitions should not be underestimated – as each situation presents its own unique profile, conflict history and aetiology, actor types and strategies, severity and scope of consequences. Situation specificity and complexity, lack of time and adequate resources, urgency of humanitarian and security related tasks – all these factors contribute to inadequately

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approaching and thinking reintegration with the immediate short term in mind, often as a mere extension of reinsertion support – policy and academic concerns with the long term nature of the reintegration process notwithstanding. It is important to restate that our focus has been on the reintegration process – from an economic, social and political point of view – as a critical component of peacebuilding strategies. It goes without saying that by the very decision to cease fighting and agree to a cease-fire, to demobilize and disarm, former combatants (of all ranks and in all contexts) play a decisive role in the sustainability of peace – after all, they are the primary perpetrators of violence. Whether a war’s ending comes through a negotiated peace agreement where none of the parties has reached a decisive advantage in the battlefield, an outright military victory of one party or coalition of parties against another, an international peace enforcement operation, or any other means, demobilization, disarmament and reinsertion play a fundamental part in peace-building by contributing to securing the environment so that other components of peacebuilding can take place. Several of the challenges identified in the chapters above, particularly the ones relating to time frames and the practical conflation between reinsertion and reintegration, stem from sequential and context insensitive approaches to peacebuilding. By and large, peacebuilding as practiced by policy and implementing agencies is still based on a restricted reading of former UN Secretary General Boutros-Ghali’s 1992 “Agenda for Peace” and subsequent UNSG reports on the issue. In “Agenda for Peace,” peacebuilding is understood very specifically as a postconflict set of activities, constituted by “actions to identify and support structures which will tend to strengthen and solidify peace in order to avoid a relapse into conflict” (Boutros-Ghali 1992). The pacing and sequencing of interventions in this peacebuilding template normally follows three stages: a stabilization stage (with the focus being on the creation of a safe environment and the management of the immediate consequences of conflict); a transition phase of between one to three years (focusing on organizations of elections, restoration of government, carrying out of DDR operations, shifting of humanitarian activities to development) and a consolidation phase of between four to ten years (with the focus being on international support to the newly elected government and civil society, the withdrawal of military forces, the implementation of SSR and the establishment of the rule of law, transition to long term socio-economic reconstruction, rehabilitation and development) (CPHS 2006). The gradual incorporation and deployment of such approaches to peacebuilding at an international level has met with considerable criticism, ranging from Roland Paris’s thoughts on what he sees increasingly as the West’s mission civilisatrice, to John Paul Lederach’s seminal contribution on “Building Peace: Sustainable Reconciliation in Divided Societies.”1 This is not a purely academic concern; there 1 See Paris, R. (2002), “International Peacebuilding and the ‘Mission Civilisatrice,’” Review of International Studies, Vol. 28 (4), 637–56; Paris, R. (1997); “Peacebuilding and the Limits of International Liberalism,” International Security, 22 (2), 54–89; Lederach, J. (1997), Building Peace: Sustainable Reconciliation in Divided Societies (Washington DC: United States Institute of Peace Press); Lederach, J. and Jenner, J. (2002), A Handbook of International

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are significant practical implications of an approach to peacebuilding which is limited to the immediate post-conflict phase. As emphasized by Lederach, The most important departure I will make in this book is in the use of the term “peacebuilding.” The secretary-general qualifies the use of the term by connecting it exclusively to the post-conflict support of peace accords and the rebuilding of wartorn societies. I agree fully that this is an increasingly critical phase to which attention must be paid … [however] I suggest that “peacebuilding” is more than post-accord reconstruction. Here, peacebuilding is understood as a comprehensive concept that encompasses, generates, and sustains the full array of processes, approaches, and stages needed to transform conflicts towards more sustainable, peaceful relationships. The term thus involves a wide range of activities and functions that both precede and follow formal peace accords (Lederach 1997, 20).

In terms of our focus in this volume, although policy and implementing agencies have recognized the long-term nature of reintegration processes and the need for a change of focus and approaches as processes move from reinsertion to reintegration, empirical evidence would indicate that, by and large, such shift does not occur. That there should be a “symbiotic relationship” between a more holistic and enlarged concept of peacebuilding and DDR processes should, of course, be recognized, understood and encouraged. As noted by Knight and Ozerdem “although a sustainable recovery after war cannot be achieved without a successful DDRR [disarmament, demobilization, reinsertion and reintegration] process, conversely, without a successful peacebuilding process the viability of a DDRR process would, in general, be questionable” (Knight and Ozerdem 2004, 501). As part of a long term, developmental vision, the reintegration of former combatants (and by extension all other groups) is therefore partially but inextricably linked to the way in which processes of demobilization, disarmament and reinsertion are conducted in the immediate post-war period. In his analysis of the DDR program in the Ivory Coast Patrick Heller notes that, Simply put, DDR is but a piece of peace, and cannot succeed until key enabling conditions are at least partially in place…in cases like Côte D’Ivoire, in which neither side has won military victory and peace depends on negotiated settlement, it is unrealistic to expect even the most technically excellent DDR process to succeed when there is no security, no trust, and no nascent cooperation between the parties (Heller 2005, 122).

A developmental and long term approach to the design and implementation of reintegration programs should therefore build on that very symbiosis while retaining a realistic conception of what, ultimately, DDR programs can achieve. Ball and van de Goor rightly note that DDR programs can provide the mechanism to separate combatants from at least some of their weapons (arms reduction and control rather Peacebuilding: Into the Eye of the Storm (San Francisco: Jossey Bass). Also Doyle, M. and Sambanis. N. (2000), “International Peacebuilding: A Theoretical and Quantitative Analysis,” American Political Science Review, 94, 779–801; Pugh, M. (2005), “The Political Economy of Peacebuilding: A Critical Theory Perspective,” International Journal of Peace Studies, 10 (2), 23–42.

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than total disarmament) and to begin to break up command structures. In addition, DDR programm can provide rebel groups with a way of laying down arms without being seen as having surrendered and begin to build trust and confidence among and between former combatants and non-combatants that enables other elements of the peace process such as elections, SSR, reconciliation, and economic recovery to go forward. Finally, DDR programs can provide ex-combatants with a much needed transition period and an opportunity to begin to reintegrate into civilian life by providing a short term safety net for ex-combatants and their dependents and start a process of changing the habits and identities of ex-combatants (Ball and van de Goor 2006, 4). As a result of the different time frames in operation, the frequently voiced objective that, as a process that helps to promote both security and development, DDR programs should “work together with other comprehensive peace-building strategies, including socio-economic recovery programmes, security sector reform (SSR), and programmes to re-establish and strengthen the rule of law” is in most war to peace transitions unattainable.2 DDR programs are often rolled-out while processes of that nature are still being developed. As a result, and in the absence of appropriate socio-economic baseline studies, policy and implementing agencies often unwittingly support activities which, as noted by Lala’s analysis of the Mozambique case referred to in the pages above, may result in “reintegration into poverty.” To expect or anticipate that DDR programs can either be based or drive national policy planning and decision-making processes in war to peace transitions (particularly on the political and economic spheres) is perhaps to obscure the real potential of DDR. If one takes the area of training for example, the development and design of training specifically tailored to assisting former combatants obtain skills that will enable them to better integrate communities, create sustainable livelihoods and contribute to economic recovery must have some relation with broader processes and strategies for economic recovery and ultimately, development. Yet, as these (through PRSPs, UNDAFs, and so on) are usually being developed as DDR processes are under way, if not completed, can we realistically expect DDR programs to adequately address these needs? There is no doubt that factors of an economic nature (access to land, jobs, training but also housing and basic services), for example, are determinants of the successful reintegration of former combatants and other vulnerable groups. Although often referred to in the literature on reintegration, the importance of the broader economic and institutional environment is often forgotten during the design of reintegration programs and strategies. As correctly noted by the GTZ, … in many cases, the efforts to support demobilisation and reintegration lack sufficient links with the broader post-war rehabilitation, capacity-building, and general development strategies, policies and programmes (GTZ 2001, 15).

Let us take the case of Angola. This country’s population was estimated at 12 to 13 million at the time of this research, growing at an average 2.9 percent a year. As with 2 See UNDPKO 2006, section 2.20 on Post-conflict Stabilisation, Peacebuilding and Recovery Frameworks.

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other countries in the region, Angola has a growing and progressively urbanized, young population actively looking for employment – in fact, it is estimated that every year the country has approximately 300,000 young people looking for their first job. Unemployment is rife in the country, with an average of 35 percent unemployment in the main urban areas of Luanda, Cabinda, Benguela, Moxico, and Huíla according to the National Statistics Institute. Expectations of formal employment are generally low, especially for those without formal qualifications. The vast majority of Angolans survive through occasional labor in the informal economy, which guarantees the livelihood of a considerable and increasingly growing number of families in the urban and peri-urban areas – a pattern uncovered by this research as regards former combatants and by other projects as regards other vulnerable groups (MINARS/WB A 2002, 6). Economic reintegration and the restoration of sustainable livelihoods at local, household and individual level are, to a large extent, dependent on the diversification of sources of income through the (re)creation of productive and domestic assets. In turn, these depend on the rehabilitation of infrastructure and the extension and strengthening of state administration at all levels but particularly at local level, where the provision of basic services is, at best deficient, at worst inexistent.3 All of these are long term processes, requiring the stabilization of the macro-economic situation in the country, for which the revitalization of the national economy (strengthening the business sector both public and private) is extremely important, as is financial stability. For all the above, professional/technical training (in areas as diverse as agriculture or business skills) together with formal education are critical for the future development of the country – a need recognized in no uncertain terms by Angola’s National Assembly (Lei de Base do Sistema Nacional de Formação Profissional). Yet, these require a developmental vision, one that places the most vulnerable at its center, one geared toward poverty alleviation while grounded in sound national economic recovery plans. For all the good intentions of a number of training programs that were implemented in the immediate resettlement phase, they were developed largely in isolation of such a vision, and therefore the probability of equipping the former combatant with the skills needed for a sustainable livelihood was extremely low. In Bié province, the authors obtained some evidence of the lack of efficacy of professional training programs developed in isolation of the broader post-war rehabilitation and general development strategies. As detailed in Chapter 3, in each area surveyed, problems of an institutional nature were paramount. These included the fragility of structures meant to support communities; the absence of mechanisms for the control and follow-up of projects and programs, including with NGOs and other organizations; the deficient provision of all basic services, but particularly primary 3 One of the most interesting findings of this project was that, by and large, former combatants regarded the traditional authority (Soba) as the most important person in the community and the one to turn to in case of problems. It would be interesting to find out what other vulnerable groups’ responses would be as an indicator of the perception that communities have of local administration.

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health care and education. Resolving Angola’s lack of administrative capacity and extension of state administration is a complex and long term process. Our emphasis on reinsertion support in the transition from demobilization to reintegration – as perhaps a better focus for DDR – is grounded on some of these dilemmas. Within the limited timeframes and resources available for DDR programs, the political and security risks associated with post-war environments and in the context of weak and devastated states, reinsertion can play a fundamental role in providing bridging support to former combatants.4 This would in fact be consistent with the UNDPKO’s approach to the phasing out of DDR activities as when “both national and international agencies are able to focus on longer-term development goals (MDGs) and the establishment of national development and poverty reduction strategies (PRSPs), and when normal relations with international financial institutions and bilateral development agencies are resumed” (UNDPKO 2006). Strengthening the reinsertion component of DDR programmes and placing reintegration outside the realm of DDR programs and firmly within the sphere of national socio-economic development while approaching it as a community affair, would also directly address the problems of conflation discussed in this volume. The processes by which post-war national policies are discussed and agreed upon (whether in the form of national recovery and socio-economic development programs or poverty reduction strategies) are critical as the backbone within which sustainable social, economic and political reintegration of former combatants and all other groups should ultimately reside. As emphasized by Ball and van de Goor, In the past, the dividing line between reinsertion and reintegration has not been clear. “Reintegration” has commonly been used to cover all activities after demobilisation, but ex-combatants have typically received primarily reinsertion benefits. Given the political and security objectives of DDR, it might make more sense to redefine and limit the “R” portion of DDR as “reinsertion” and view reinsertion as the bridge between demobilisation and longer-term reintegration (Ball and van de Goor 2006, 3).

Reintegration Assistance and Vulnerability in War to Peace Transitions One of the objectives of this research was to use the data gathered in situ to reflect critically on whether former combatants’ experience of reintegration was sufficiently differentiated from that of other vulnerable groups to justify targeted medium to long term reintegration assistance. As discussed in Chapter 1, the rationale behind targeted reintegration programs has often been based on the need to adequately address a specific set of needs (and circumstances) exhibited by the former combatant in the immediate post-war setting. The eminently political nature of DDR processes in war to peace transitions – a consequence of the fact that they are often arrived at through 4 As noted by Nicole Ball “short-term reinsertion assistance can provide ex-combatants with a vital breathing space while they establish themselves in the civilian economy. It also reduces the burden that veterans and their dependents place on the communities to which they return and enhances veterans’ self-esteem by ensuring that they will be able to finance their basic needs” (Ball 1997, 98).

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negotiated compromises and that, as a result, cooption of potential spoilers becomes a critical strategy; the risks associated with the possibility of a return to war and/or a rise in criminality which prompts, as a matter of urgency, the establishment of some level of security; and the belief that the psychological, social and relational consequences of fighting (what we termed cultures of violence) distinguish former combatants from other vulnerable groups, have underlined the practice of targeted approaches to reintegration, including in contexts of weak, devastated and poor states. However, while few people doubt the need for targeted reinsertion support in the immediate post war period (including during return and resettlement) – based on all or some combination of the concerns enunciated above – in practice, there is considerable disagreement on whether targeted long term support to ex-combatants actually assists or hinders reintegration, reconciliation and ultimately peacebuilding. In certain countries, these disagreements have prompted a series of somewhat radical revisions and adaptations of reintegration programs. As noted by McMullin this was the case with the Namibia reintegration program following this country’s independence on 21 May 1990. Although not entirely successful, in this experience, as noted by this author, Neither the government nor the UN planned any reintegration assistance for ex-combatants: all planning during the UNTAG mission [United Nations Transitional Assistance Group] focused on the short-term objectives of demobilisation and disarmament, and the new government focused its efforts on non-targeted, generalised development initiatives (McMullin 2005, 193) (our emphasis).

Despite the realization by a few academics and implementing agencies (including the UN system) of the importance of a shift of focus from the individual to the community, the dispute about targeted and therefore differentiated reintegration support to former combatants is, in the practical world of DDR implementation, far from resolved. One of the reasons for this, as noted above, is the conflation of reintegration (an eminently developmental process with social, economic and political dimensions) with reinsertion (transitional assistance given to former combatants during the demobilization and immediate resettlement phase). Yet, a practical consequence of this conflation is that it reduces the opportunity and means available for the development of community based approaches to reintegration. Reflecting on the reintegration of former combatants in Liberia, Kees Kingma encapsulates the two sides of the argument particularly well. On one side of the argument: … reasons for not targeting the assistance to the ex-combatants were, among others: that so many more people were displaced and affected by the war; the general perception that ex-combatants should not be further rewarded; the fact that it was hard to define who is an ex-combatant and who is not; and the fact that because of atrocities committed, the excombatants themselves do not want to admit that they were (Kingma 1999, 10).

On the other side of the argument, … there are, however, arguments for at least some direct support for reintegration of ex-soldiers and guerrillas, namely; (1) from a humanitarian point of view; (2) as

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From Soldiers to Citizens compensation for sacrifices and loss of educational opportunities; (3) because of their potential contribution to general development; (4) because failed reintegration of armed ex-combatants could jeopardise the peace-building process (Kingma 1999, 11).

That DDR programs must be very carefully tailored to the needs of the societies in which they are implemented rather than being based on a “one size fits all” blueprint is clear – witness the very different approaches adopted, for example, in Burundi and the DRC, as well as the importance attached to context by large funds such as the World Bank’s MDRP or development agencies such as the GTZ. Nevertheless, what the analysis above makes patently clear is that in post-conflict situations where the socio-economic fabric of society has been damaged beyond recognition, and in which large numbers of people find themselves living precariously from one day to the next (as former combatants or their families, as internally displaced peoples, as refugees), their vulnerability profile seems to have more in common than would perhaps be the case in other situations. The Angolan case is a paradigmatic example of these dilemmas. As discussed in Chapter 2, these different groups “descended” simultaneously on the local level, through more or less controlled processes of resettlement and return. At the time the demobilization and reintegration process began, more than a million civilians were being assisted by the humanitarian community present in the country – with an unspecified, yet much greater number, in need of emergency nutrition and healthcare assistance. With the quartering process underway, and with thousands of combatants making their way to the quartering areas, it became increasingly clear that the families of combatants also required assistance – the allowance by the government to permit former combatants’ family members to gather in satellite reception areas being extremely important because it opened the way for humanitarian agencies to quickly stabilize this large population group. Following demobilization, former combatants began their return and resettlement process, thereby joining several million civilians who were doing exactly the same. Angola’s post-war emergency (as that of Liberia, Sierra Leone, or Burundi) constituted the context within which the DDR program was implemented – a context marked by widespread population displacement, limited or no accessibility to large parts of the country, overcrowding in urban areas, not to mention the poor state of the country’s infrastructure. When the authors returned to Angola to conduct survey research, two years had passed since the end of the war and in both urban and rural locations, the bulk of resettlement and return was underway. From a research point of view, this had the benefit of allowing for a better understanding of the different needs of the various groups and, perhaps more importantly, of the way they interacted with one another in a post-war context characterized by state decay and severe scarcity of resources. Two questions seem to arise when researching the validity of arguments for and against differentiated long term reintegration support as part of DDR processes in war to peace transitions. Firstly, do former combatants require a specific approach to reintegration support because of their role and experience as fighters, their expectations following demobilization and the risk they are perceived to pose to the security situation in the immediate post-war period? Secondly, is differentiated

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support needed because the former combatant exhibits a fundamentally different profile (as regards vulnerability, economic standing, skills, and so on) to that of other groups in war to peace transitions? We will begin by discussing the second question. In our case study, former combatants largely chose to resettle in areas where they had previous ties, either because it was their place of origin or to join family members. By and large, the former combatant (and by extension his dependents) was well received in the community of return or resettlement. In fact, the former combatant was likely to find upon arrival in the resettlement area that more than half of his “new” community was made up of returnees and resettled households. With little or no formal education and professional training, more than half of the sample returned to small-scale farming, or worked in various types of wage labor and trade in the informal economy (particularly in urban areas). Moreover, the authors found that, as with other population groups and in particular the returnee and resettled population, the former combatant had yet to achieve a level of economic reintegration that would allow him to move beyond dependency on food aid. In fact, as emphasized by the World Food Program, Only in 40 percent of the communities with long-term residents and newcomers, are longterm residents better off than recently settled households, in particular with respect to the condition and size of dwellings and access to productive assets (ploughs, etc). For other characteristics, such as access to luxury goods, access to income-generating activities and knowledge of farming practices, there are almost no differences (not significant). Incidences where resettled households are better off than residents are “very rare.”5

In all these aspects, the former combatant was remarkably similar to other vulnerable groups. As noted in Chapter 1, similar findings were uncovered for the Ethiopia, Uganda, Mozambique, Liberia, and Sierra Leone cases. What is perhaps significant is the remarkable (though not surprising) similarity in livelihood strategies. In fact, for the former combatant as for all other groups (residents, resettled, returned), agriculture remained the single most important economic activity, followed by casual labor, livestock, charcoal production, and various business-related activities. Although it was gradually improving, the vulnerability of all of these groups to difficult agricultural seasons had been a constant in the immediate post-war period. Similarly, during difficult times, the coping strategies and mechanisms used by civilians in rural Angola were the same as those of former combatants – all these groups faced the same limited choices, a combined result of lack of income diversification and access to basic services. In addition, the loss of productive and domestic assets during the war, the limited labor market in rural areas, and the low crop yields continued to affect the productive capacities of the returnee population. In Angola, the scale of resettlement and return of all population groups was such that it represented, perhaps, the single most important dynamic during the immediate 5 We should nevertheless point out that these statistics apply to rural Angola and therefore any comparisons must be done cautiously – we have included them because they provide additional clues as to the vulnerability profiles of groups other than former combatants. See WFP 2004, 8.

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post-war period. Upon arrival, all population groups faced the same limitations to restoring their livelihoods and all required substantial levels of humanitarian assistance. In fact, as noted by the WFP and partners, “it is during the first years of resettlement that these households need support from the humanitarian community in combination with the repair and reconstruction of the transport, school and health infrastructures by the government and its partners” (WFP 2004). It is therefore clear that there is little that distinguishes the former combatant from other vulnerable groups – they face the same challenges, experience a very similar degree of vulnerability, are equipped with the same very limited set of skills, and survive using identical income-generating activities. What of the argument that because of their specificity, former combatants require a differentiated approach to reintegration support? Could it primarily be related to the perception of possible risks posed by this target group if not properly attended to? In general, and irrespective of the circumstances within which combatants give up their arms and agree to demobilize, the idea is that they need to feel that they have achieved something if they are to continue to abide by the rules of peace. This very point was noted by Kingma in the following terms: “the official termination of the armed conflict usually brings high expectations. After much suffering, a new peaceful life full of opportunities is to begin … if the expectations of being able to set up an independent sustainable livelihood are not directly met, this causes frustration” (Kingma 1999, 6). As noted by the Praxis Group, “when combatants are asked to give up their arms, they face a ‘point of no return’: they and their leaders must have faith in a future where the advantages of peace outweigh those of war” (Praxis 2000, 1). This argument seems to find practical evidence in many failed peace processes, where the combined effect of inadequate DDR programs and the failure to address root or structural causes of conflict (inequality, discriminatory political institutions, poverty and underdevelopment, and so on) form the ideal ingredients of a resurgence of violence, often with former combatants at the helm – their military-related skills and mobilization potential being, of course, critical factors in this regard. In fact, these experiences are evidence of the critical role played by long term, sustainable reintegration. At the time the war ended in Angola, UNITA was largely destroyed as a military force and had few options but to “negotiate.” With an average of 17 years in the movement’s military forces, a great part of which were spent in active combat, its soldiers and officers had little choice but to negotiate – the only real option available to the top leadership of the movement following Jonas Savimbi’s death. Their choice led to the resumption of the Lusaka process and ultimately led to the extinction of the military component of the movement. It is probable that by the time the MoU was signed in Luanda during April 2002, the bulk of UNITA’s forces longed for peace as much as Angolan civilians did – after all, the relentless offensive mounted by the FAA and the effect of sanctions imposed on UNITA had driven the military wing of the movement close to annihilation. The images of UNITA soldiers emerging from the bush en route to quartering areas and the dire condition in which they arrived are clear evidence of this. Consequently, there was no real risk of a return to war in Angola in the short term – a situation not observed in several current war to peace transitions, in particular the DRC and Liberia.

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Yet, as emphasized in Chapter 1, unless the structural conditions that underlined the military mobilization of individuals are transformed, there is always the possibility that a reversal may occur. In the case of Angola, it is unquestionable that the longterm success of peacebuilding and democratization depends on the participation of all – particularly of those who were directly involved in military activities.6 Former combatants’ perception of their place in a peaceful society is therefore critical – and it is this that leads us to the question of reintegration and identity. The centrality of identity to peacebuilding processes is well recognized in the literature by scholars and policy makers alike. As discussed in the pages above, genuine demilitarization requires not only the legitimate control of instruments and means of coercion and violence, but equally, the transformation of minds and by extension of relationships at a social and political level. If peace is to be sustained following periods of internecine violence, all constituents of society (and not only belligerents) must commit to transcending the identities, frameworks and emblems that may have underlined the occurrence of war and violence. In part, as emphasized in the introduction to this volume, this transformation of minds is integral to the new social contract that is required if peace is to take hold and social cohesion maintained. In addition to reintegration at a social, economic and political level, this transformation is inextricably linked to, in fact a direct function of, processes of social reconciliation. These processes can take different forms depending on the context: the acknowledgment of past atrocities and trauma by truth and reconciliation commissions (South Africa, Sierra Leone); war crimes tribunals and other judicial processes (Rwanda, Liberia); reparations (South Africa); ritual healings (Mozambique, Uganda); or, simply, “official amnesia” (Angola). Using Pankhurt’s notion that reconciliation between former enemies occurs when “enmity is set aside and emotional space is created for re-forging new relationships,” Ramsbotham et al alert us to the fact that “to reach the transformative levels of bridging differences and restoring trust requires a capacity for innovation and creative renewal likely to be beyond the capacity of many societies in the immediate aftermath of violence” (Ramsbotham et al 2005, 233). Recognizing this important point (that in the immediate post-war setting, societies may seldom have the ability to effect sustainable reconciliation) points us in the direction of long term reintegration as a critical component of processes of social reconciliation – and the need therefore to conduct deeper research into the underlying and subtle processes by which identities affect and are affected by reintegration processes. In the Angola case, these subtleties and the long term nature of the reintegration process was revealed by the degree to which former UNITA soldiers did not see themselves to be fully “civilianized.” With nearly half characterizing themselves as either “demobilized” or “military” (a very small proportion), it is evident that despite it having been more than two years since the formal ending of the civil 6 As noted by the World Bank, “a key component of achieving the transition from war to peace relates to the successful social and economic reintegration of war-affected populations. These populations include not only repatriated refugees and ex-combatants but also internally displaced peoples and populations affected by conflict whose social and economic systems have been destroyed as a result of the conflict” (World Bank 1999).

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war and a further 10 months after their arrival in their places of residence, many of the ex-soldiers surveyed still held non-civilian identities. Why former combatants felt this way is not particularly illuminated through an analysis of their views on their reception by host communities, however. Contrary to what one would have expected, the vast majority of the ex-soldiers believed that they were well-received by their host communities. One facet of this can be explained by the numbers of respondents who settled in or near their place of origin, where most claimed they had familial ties. However, as noted above, focus group interviews provided a somewhat contradictory account of the experience of reception, presenting anecdotal evidence of persistent discrimination by local government and MPLA party officials on the basis of the ex-soldiers’ political affiliation. If this latter experience was in fact the case, then perhaps it may provide a partial explanation for the persistence of the military identity despite the positive reception from family. Another hypothesis is that the ex-soldiers were actually actively mobilizing – not in the military sense but rather the social and perhaps even political sense – around the UNITA banner as a socio-economic strategy in light of the adverse conditions they faced immediately upon demobilizing. In addition, it is also possible – as suggested by some ex-combatants in focus groups – that the demobilized identity is a label that may be instrumentalized by ex-combatants to attract economic support from organizations including the government and NGOs. If this was the case, then our arguments in the pages above concerning the dilemmas of differentiated long term support (prioritizing the former combatant), the need to strengthen reinsertion support as perhaps a more natural component of DDR programs and the reconceptualization of reintegration as a community, developmental and long term affair come to light. A number of identity-based factors which may have been expected to have a big impact did not, in the end, seem all that significant – ex-combatants of all ages, ethnicities, gender, religions, and backgrounds seem to experience varying levels of difficulty in reintegrating at roughly equivalent levels. There were some geographical variations, perhaps indicating that some environments had proved more difficult to reintegrate into than others, although there was no real evidence on the basis of this survey data as to why this was be the case. The fact that ex-combatants in rural areas were more likely to consider themselves reintegrated (significant at the 5 percent level but the difference is not large) may be attributable to having better access to employment (informal), housing and land. While other sources of identity such as gender and religion were not seen to be strongly correlated to perceptions of reintegration, aspects of the experience of military service with UNITA appears to have played a role. For example, the longer ex-combatants spent away from home and family with UNITA, the less likely they were to consider themselves as “civilians,” more often opting for the label “demobilized.” The link is not definitive, however – even among those who spent over 20 years with UNITA, some 46 percent still saw themselves as “civilians,” versus 57 percent of those who spent less than 10 years with UNITA. Related to this, younger ex-combatants also appeared slightly more likely to view themselves as civilians, although, once again, the relationship was not definitive. Rank within UNITA appears to have been a more important factor – of course in many cases this was related to the time spent in UNITA. Although the small

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number who said they still considered themselves as “military” made overall statistical analysis difficult, there did appear to be a significant correlation between ex-combatants’ former rank and their identity perception. Although the number who chose “military” as an identity was so low that no real conclusions could be drawn from it, those of higher rank were less likely to see themselves as civilians and remained attached to their status as “demobilized”, implying a persistent attachment to their former military status, and thus a degree of separation from the communities that surround them. Furthermore, the question of whether or not an ex-combatant had been demobilized in previous processes may have also been a significant factor – as in this case it made it less likely that an ex-combatant would feel successfully reintegrated. It is noticeable that of those who did not think they had successfully reintegrated, 82 percent also saw themselves as “demobilized” rather than as civilians. Generally speaking, the previous relationship between an ex-combatant and a community did not, seem to be important – with one exception. Those living in a place to which they had no previous ties were just as likely to feel reintegrated and consider themselves civilians as those who had returned to their village of birth. However, the subgroup of those who lived where they were stationed during their time with UNITA stand out: they were less likely to have been well received by the community following demobilization. They appeared to be more likely to hold onto their “demobilized” identity, and less likely to consider themselves reintegrated into civilian life. As might be expected, those who felt they had not been well received by the community were also less likely to consider themselves to be reintegrated. Of those who were not well received, less than two thirds saw themselves as reintegrated, as opposed to almost four fifths of those who were well received – emphasizing, once again, the importance of the community as far as reintegration is concerned (we will return to this in the pages below). However, it should be remembered that the two may not be automatically linked – 85 percent of those who did not consider themselves reintegrated said they had, nevertheless, been well-received by the communities in which they were residing. In addition, it must be remembered that a poor reception for an ex-combatant may be – although not always – due to factors such as their past actions during the war (looting and destruction of property, physical abuse and violence against civilians were, of course, not uncommon during the war). The community cannot therefore be automatically held solely “responsible” for the success or failure of an ex-combatant to reintegrate. The particularly poor reception given to ex-combatants who were known to a community in their military capacity suggests that this, even if not elaborated upon by the ex-combatant, may be an important factor – emphasizing Ramsbotham et al’s point made above. Targeting the Community: Reintegration and Social Capital Social reconstruction or normalisation, and the rebuilding of a just and equitable civil society, are essential components of long-term peacebuilding. Social reconstruction is short and long term, restorative and preventive. It spans the spectrum of relief, rehabilitation and development. Its constituents are individuals, communities and societies. It requires

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In Chapter 1, we noted that the conditions that pertain in many war to peace transitions require a markedly different set of lenses and tools to address processes of “normalization.” In many post-war environments, understanding issues relating to state weakness and decay, legitimacy of political and other institutions, opportunity structures at national and local level, the socio economic fabric, the informal economy, and so on, is critical. In the pages above, we noted that because of these very conditions, several authors have questioned the very concept of reintegration, considering that “integration” more adequately reflects the realities found in postwar environments. In fact, as detailed in the sub-section above, in many post-war situations, there is a significant similarity in the profiles and challenges faced by former combatants and other vulnerable groups – the former combatant sharing many of the characteristics of the civilian population with whom he or she now lives. Largely as a result of these conditions, a gradual shift of focus from reintegration assistance to the individual ex-combatant to support to the community as a whole has been called for. After all, the long term sustainability of peace, of which reintegration plays a significant part, depends on addressing the vulnerability of all populations in need. While for the purposes of short term security and the political process, reinsertion assistance is targeted specifically at the former combatant, long term socio-economic and political reintegration must be centered, and therefore revolve around, communities. Yet, elevating communities to “principal partners” in DDR programs requires more than policy prescriptions. For if reintegration is thought as a community, developmental and long term affair, its appropriate role as a tool in war to peace transitions must be defined and translated into practice. And this role, as was previously noted, may not sit comfortably within the timeframes and approaches to DDR currently practiced. The processes of rebuilding, creating, strengthening communities in line with sustainable and participatory approaches to development, require first and foremost time, resources and will. In addition, in post-war contexts where “communities” have been ravaged and dismembered, assistance to a variety of vulnerable groups (resettled refugees and IDPs, and within these unaccompanied and traumatized children, war widows and sexually abused women) is required long after the guns have been silenced. In these contexts, issues of reconciliation and psychosocial healing are critical. As noted by Kimberley Maynard, Communal violence has a far-reaching effect on individual and community life. Intimate exposure to brutality and subsequent displacement and civil disorder leave individuals psychologically scarred and the intricate network of social interaction deeply torn. Traditional support systems have disintegrated along with communal cohesion in intergroup violence … in war-torn societies, healthy social patterns between dissimilar groups are replaced by distrust, apprehension, and outrage, impairing community cohesion, interdependence, and mutual protection (Maynard 1997, 203–207).

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Maynard’s points quoted above lead us to a reflection on the importance of social capital, defined by Durston as “the set of norms, institutions and organisations that promote trust and cooperation among persons in communities and also in wider society” (Durston 1999, 103). According to Francis Fukuyama: “social capital is important to the efficient functioning of modern economies, and is the sine qua non of stable liberal democracy” (Fukuyama 1995). Information flows and norms of reciprocity constitute the material (albeit somewhat intangible) basis for social capital, which is itself employed to create and sustain group identities that form that basis for collective action. The twin expressions of social capital – “bonding” and “bridging” – underscore the differing impact that collective action can have in a society (Putnam 1993). Bonding strategies, sometimes characterized as vertical networks, build on group affinities to establish a “radius of trust” to the detriment of those defined as outside the group. In contrast, bridging strategies are horizontal networks that foster links across groups, creating “positive externalities” that spill over into the wider society. If we take Elliott’s notion of social reconstruction as being simultaneously “reactive, restorative and preventive” and “directed towards individuals, towards the rehabilitation of communities and towards the rebuilding of civil society,” social capital’s role in social reconstruction of war-torn societies is evident (Elliott 2003, 259). Social capital may in fact become a catalyst for sustained reconciliation in divided societies. In efforts to support the strengthening of social capital, the state is widely acknowledged to have limited capacity – yet, it has a fundamental role in the creation of public goods like safety and property rights, as well as the fostering of an enabling environment for private action, be it in the area of business or civil society.7 Civil society – including, of course, individuals and communities – plays in this regard a much more important role, as it is through its efforts that ultimately social capital develops and strengthens. Ultimately, as Gawerc points out, it is the initiatives of “ordinary people” who “choose to move across the lines of conflict to work together on various projects or initiatives, promote cooperation and/or strengthen their capacities” which have a significant role in conflict transformation and peacebuilding. As noted by this author, Cross-cutting integrative ties that have a true functional value can have a tremendous impact by addressing the need for structural change by (re)structuring the social, material, and political fabric of society(ies), in addition to addressing the need for relationship change through the building of mutual ties based one equality and the fostering of trust (Gawerc 2006, 446).

Our analysis of the data gathered in Angola reveals a number of interesting relationships between reintegration and social capital variables – particularly as regards networks and social structures, trust and reciprocity, and collective action. Based on the data here, it appears that the range of networks beyond the immediate family to which UNITA ex-combatants had access was limited – partly a reflection 7 Oddly enough, there is little mention in the literature on social capital of the difficulties that extra-societal entities, be they donor countries, multilateral agencies and private foundations presumably encounter in this area.

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of the relative paucity of associational life in the areas surveyed. As with many (if not most) post-conflict societies, the research sites surveyed in Angola lacked the requisite density of associational life – proof, if any was required, of the devastating socio-economic impact of war. In the areas surveyed, families – so crucial to the reintegration process – were only partially trusted; this is perhaps not surprising given the political divisions that have split them in many cases (especially in the case of UNITA ex-combatants returning to formerly government-held areas). As was discussed in Chapter 4 above, “friends” were generally limited to other excombatants and even then many ex-combatants in focus groups referred to the lack of real communication and discussion between them – for reasons of security. The question to ask was then whether the social networks that existed were “bonding” or “bridging” in character. Much social activity was still concentrated around the two major political parties (MPLA and UNITA) or around the churches – this was especially true in rural areas. Yet, while membership of a political organization may help ex-combatants participate in networks composed of other ex-combatants and people of similar background, this is “bonding” as defined above: to an extent, exclusionary of others and with the effect of reinforcing identities, in this case of a political nature. For our purposes here, what is perhaps more worrying was that the high levels of membership in political organizations observed seemed to be associated with lower levels of reintegration. However, one should not jump to the conclusion that because these are networks of bonding, they will necessarily result in the diminishing of broader and perhaps more beneficial “bridging” networks (to the community as a whole). As emphasized by Lederach “reconciliation is not pursued by seeking innovative ways to disengage or minimise the conflicting groups’ affiliations, but instead is built on the mechanisms that engage the sides of a conflict with each other as humans-in-relationship.” By linking reconciliation with the recognition by conflict groups that their future is inextricably linked and that they are therefore interdependent, Lederach makes a critical contribution to the notion of reconciliation as an encounter where space for acknowledging the past and envisioning the future are the necessary ingredients for the reframing of the present (Lederach 1997, 26, 27). Trust, reciprocity, networks of cooperation and collective action (the components of social capital) are the necessary vehicles for this reconciliation to occur. In our research sites in Angola, another, in fact the principal, source of social networking came from the church. Ex-combatants, the research indicated, were members of churches and church social groups alongside other community members regardless of political affiliation. In fact, several ex-combatants reported the positive messages of reconciliation that the churches spread within communities. Nevertheless, while church networks seem to be a “bridging” network they can also form vertical networks as interdenominational cooperation has been limited and fraught. It is revealing of the importance of social capital as regards reintegration issues that social networks played an important role in ex-soldiers’ decisions of where to resettle. In this regard, as was discussed in Chapter 4, extended family networks played an important role in facilitating the resettlement and reintegration of excombatants, in aspects including land access in rural areas, formal employment in urban areas, and the possibility of mobility between the two. In addition, as was

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discussed at length, traditional community leaders continued to exercise considerable influence over the lives of former combatants in times of trouble. Nevertheless, rather than misreading the paucity of membership in groups other than churches and political parties as a crippling deficiency in the building blocks of social capital in the areas surveyed, one should use them as evidence of the importance of supporting, strengthening, and developing the ability of individuals and communities to create associations, community based organizations, and the like. Although war and the constant search for security by Angolans has contributed to predominantly “bonding” rather than “bridging” networks – the pre-war history of this country is testament to the ability of Angolans to create and organize themselves in all manner of civil society groupings (both formal and informal, church and secular, business oriented, unions and associations, CBOS and NGOs). However, without significant support, the absence of bridging strategies will almost certainly constitute a handicap for ex-combatants in their future options and development, since economic and other opportunities in Angola are largely dependent on access to informal networks. The predominance of exclusive, “bonding” networks is also unlikely to assist in the breaking down of militarized identities. Focusing but also involving communities in the processes of post-war reconstruction, rehabilitation and reintegration is therefore a better strategy than merely targeting the specific caseload of the former combatant. Such an integrated focus (from the perspective of all vulnerable groups) simultaneously increases contact and interaction between them, opening the possibility for the development of trust and cooperation. Only in this way is reintegration sustainable, proportional and non-discriminatory. More importantly, reintegration becomes not an end in itself but a means for societal reconstruction. Finally, such a focus during the development of rehabilitation and reintegration plans should also include strengthening the ability of communities to form associations, CBOs and other cooperation mechanism. Beyond the value they add to economic and social reconstruction, these organizations can contribute significantly to long term processes of reconciliation, conflict resolution and peacebuilding (Prendergast and Plumb 2002, 334). Reintegration and Political Participation The most important element in rebuilding war-torn societies is political rehabilitation. An intrastate conflict indicates that the state has failed to govern itself – that is, to meet the essential needs and aspirations of its people and to effectively accommodate and reconcile the demands of competing groups within the framework of economic growth and political stability (Kumar 1997, 4).

At the outset of this volume we considered that demilitarization in war to peace transitions presents a very specific set of challenges and issues, making it a substantially different undertaking to that of demilitarization during times of peace. The complexity and uncertainty which characterize post-conflict environments affect to a significant extent the myriad of activities and processes taking place during war to peace transitions – in contexts of poverty, human insecurity and devastation. We have seen how fragile negotiated compromises can be and the extent to which

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spoilers may affect the outcome of peace processes – whether through the form of strategic deception (when parties sign peace agreements not imagining cooperative gains but for opportunities to prevail), the presence of spoilers who being outside the peace process want to see it collapse, or the result of command and control issues (Stedman 2002, 12). As noted in the pages above, these risks can be clearly seen in the present situations in the DRC, Burundi, or Liberia. War to peace transitions are also fragile in a political sense. As the statistical analysis of success and failure of negotiated peace agreements has deepened over the last decade, through the studies of Paul Pillar, Roy Licklider or Stephen Stedman, there is a very high probability of negotiated settlements collapsing and leading to the recurrence of armed conflict. Not only is the variety and complexity of potentially dividing issues present during negotiations, ultimately affecting their success or failure, but their implementation in the post-agreement phase is fraught with difficulties and risks. The types of challenges faced in peace implementation (in highly complex situations such as the DRC for example) has in fact underlined the gradual evolution of UN peacekeeping doctrine and a move beyond traditional peace-keeping “holding-operations” to an integrated, holistic concept of multidimensional peacekeeping. As noted by Elliott, “the spectrum of action under Chapter VI and VII of the UN Charter in response to the political, humanitarian and social aspects of what are now called complex emergencies has widened considerably” (Elliott 2003, 257). In these contexts, the political will and the commitment, realism and pragmatism of leaderships are crucial. In fact, as noted in the introduction to this volume, the emergence of a new social contract in post-war societies is a vital step towards creating institutions and fostering a culture of political reconciliation, power sharing and good governance. Believing that, above all, an intrastate conflict indicates that the state has failed to govern itself, Kumar emphasizes that “the most critical element in rebuilding war-torn societies is political rehabilitation.” This author goes further to emphasize that “the signing of peace accords does not mean that the deep political cleavages between the warring factions have been bridged, nor does it signify that various factions have come to share a long-term commitment to peace and reconciliation” (Kumar 1997, 4). Moreover, as noted in the introduction to this volume, political rehabilitation should not be simply regarded as the holding of an election. As emphasized by Reginald Austin, “the constitution or reconstitution of a democratic political order requires much more than an election – even when, as in a transition from armed conflict to an elected government, the election is a necessary and critical landmark in the process” (Austin 2003, 201). In addition to the immediate post-war urgency in tackling a series of typically urgent problems such as critical capacity shortages, bloated bureaucracies, inefficiency and lack of transparency, political rehabilitation in war torn societies requires that the thorny issue of political legitimacy be addressed, not only through elections but perhaps more importantly through the creation of a responsive and representative political system. And in this, political participation plays a critical role in the development and nurturing of trust. Moreover, in the new social contract that will define the post-war era, the ability and capacity of the former combatant to actively participate in politics is essential.

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The inclusion of a series of questions which specifically focused on political attitudes and political participation by former combatants in our survey was a function of this concern. This is an area that has largely been absent in discussions of demilitarization in war to peace transitions and in particular DDR. Yet, the peaceful and active participation of former combatants in the political process is a critical component of peacebuilding, representing as we emphasized in Chapter 3, the culmination of the transformation of the soldier into a citizen. Political reintegration was seen by the authors to be a cumulative “bundle” of attitudes, beliefs and expectations with respect to the post-conflict political environment involving a commitment or, at the very least, willingness to participate in the democratic process. If identity and the formation of social capital are seen as fundamental to long term socio-economic reintegration, then a willingness on the part of ex-soldiers to engage in political activity can be taken as a sign of rehabilitation and trust. When reviewing the data collected through the survey, a picture developed of the former UNITA combatant as knowledgeable about electoral politics, conscious of the democratic process in a most general way, cognizant of the opportunities that it presents but somewhat ambivalent about actively engaging in party politics itself. On this latter point, a significant number (54 percent) were keen to participate in electoral events, with a fifth of these willing to put themselves up as candidates for office. Concurrently, a strong streak of entitlement ran through the ex-combatants’ approach to the peace settlement in the sense that this group has considerable expectations of the government (expressed in terms of elections, jobs, training, or land). The degree to which these expectations are met may also form part of the excombatants’ long-term reintegration within Angolan society. Liberal democratic values were primarily expressed through a commitment to elections and a belief that these will ensure peace. Perhaps surprisingly, a great deal of stock was placed in elections as laying the foundation for peace by the respondents. As Angola’s history suggests, it is of crucial importance that this group sees any future elections as free and fair – though there is nothing in the research’s findings that would imply a willingness on the part of the respondents to repeat UNITA’s illfated reversion to civil war. For the authors, a willingness to participate in politics was seen to be both (1) a concrete expression of acceptance of the inefficacy of military means as an avenue for obtaining fundamental economic and political goods; and (2) faith in the ability of the post-conflict political system to accommodate the excombatants’ concerns. That ex-combatants exhibited contrary positions on political participation is perhaps understandable given the proximity of war. What is more intriguing was that the research uncovered that a majority was interested in participating in electoral politics and, furthermore, a significant minority (one fifth) would consider serving as candidates in an election. Even if one accounts for this interest as recognition of the convergence between access to economic goods and the holding of political office, it is telling that over a hundred people have sufficient faith in the functionality of electoral politics to put themselves up for office. Here it is important to give consideration to the evolving powers of local authorities, especially over budgets, but within the framework of some form of public scrutiny that prevents against the worst forms of abuses of office. Faith in democracy – the kind that ultimately gives

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rise to a sustained commitment to electoral politics – is rooted in its experience locally and there is a need to ensure that elected officials have the means with which to demonstrate positive change for the constituencies that gave them their support. A crucial dimension of democratic practice is access to an independent media. Knowledge of political parties, or rather the absence of that knowledge in the case of most of the individuals surveyed, is linked to the media as the primary source of information – though not exclusive, especially in a “traditionalist” society –within the wider community. The bias of the state-run media in Angola has been the subject of criticism by opposition parties, civil society and outside observers for many years. What this survey seems to suggest is that the newer political parties will remain outside of the public imagination as long as the media is dominated by the state. Other surveys (namely by the Afro-Barometer) have correlated the levels of support for democracy with the media openness with Zimbabwe scoring the lowest of 16 African countries surveyed (Afro-Barometer 2004). However, despite criticism of state-run media, there is no discernable anti-democratic bias detected amongst those who listen to it versus those who tune into international radio stations. It is worth noting that the economic standing of former combatants is suggestive of interesting, if somewhat contradictory, findings in assessing it as a guide to levels of political participation. For example, the rates of membership of political organizations were highest amongst the landless and those who leased land, something that hints at the possibility of future political action around the land issue. Political activism, following from this data, was regarded as an instrument for improving economic opportunities (and as such fully in concert with established democratic practice). More generally, if one considers the broader levels of interest in participation in politics, it would appear that while a majority of ex-soldiers may not have been inclined to political activism, a sizable minority saw it as an option if not an opportunity. Clues as to how this activism will be manifest remain elusive but, based on the survey data, none of the political parties has any particular command over this group at this stage. In Angola, popular optimism as regards the sustainability of peace has first and foremost been based on the circumstances of the end of the war and the realization that, if it is to have a future role in the country, UNITA must continue to effectively transform itself into a broad-based and genuine political party. That the management of the military and security aspects of this civil war are critical for the long-term sustainability of peace in Angola should not be questioned. However, given the context in which the ceasefire agreement was achieved and the lessons learned in previous Angolan attempts at conflict resolution, it would be premature to judge positive developments within what one could term the Angolan “peace process” solely on the basis of compliance with the military commitments agreed in Moxico and ratified in Luanda on 4 April 2002. That the quartering, disarmament and demobilization process has been observed should therefore not be taken as definitive and conclusive proof that resolution and reconciliation have been achieved in Angola. While both the government and UNITA have demonstrated a strong public commitment to peace, reconciliation between the two former adversaries has been elusive. To be sure, confidence-building through public conciliatory statements and practical gestures are an important part of rebuilding trust and dissipating what has

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157

been a profound climate of suspicion. In this regard, the President’s swift and unilateral declaration of a ceasefire soon after Jonas Savimbi was killed and the 14 March 2002 announcement of a “15 Point Peace Plan,” contributed to some level of confidence building between the two former enemies. Yet, outside the realm of public statement and in terms of practical actions designed to achieve the difficult and elusive goal of “national reconciliation,” the institutional framework of the “Memorandum of Understanding” was inadequate as it lacked the mandate and format that would allow for issues of national reconciliation to be discussed. And even though the parties resurrected the Joint Commission envisaged in the Lusaka Protocol this was a short lived measure without real impact on issues of reconciliation. The expectation that the Joint Commission would initiate an extensive and inclusive process of consultation on the way forward for the country was eagerly anticipated by Angola’s civil society. In fact, in his “15 Point Peace Plan,” President Eduardo dos Santos had specifically called on civil society, particularly the churches, political parties and civic and socio-professional associations. Civil society organizations optimistically regarded this call as the first real opportunity for extensive, comprehensive and inclusive consultations with all Angolans, irrespective of political affiliation, in both the creation of a government of unity and national reconciliation as well as far-reaching constitutional reform that could tackle some of the structural issues that have fueled the 27 year old civil war in Angola. Since 1999, Angolan NGOs and CBOs had been playing an increasingly important part in the monitoring of human rights, in community level conflict resolution initiatives and in the monitoring of government policies. As Owen remarked at the time, “a weak civil society is beginning to organise itself and redefine the boundaries of popular participation in questions of war, peace and development” (Owen 2001, 3). Paradigmatic of this shift was the creation in 1999 of the “Movement for Peace,” bringing together for the first time the main churches of Angola (catholic and protestant of various denominations) as well as many non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and community based organizations (CBOs). However, civil society’s contribution to an enlarged, comprehensive and inclusive peace process was but a mere mirage. The resurrected Joint Commission retained its original composition under the Lusaka Protocol comprising representatives of the Angolan government, UNITA, the troika of observer countries and as Chair, the Special Representative of the UN’s Secretary General, Ibrahim Gambari. Its activities focused almost exclusively on negotiating UNITA’s participation in government (both central and local government) and the regulation of UNITA as a political party. And once this was finally agreed upon, the Joint Commission wound itself up, leaving behind, disillusioned and disappointed, Angolan civil society who during the whole process was consulted only once. More than five years have now passed since the end of the war and Angola is still to hold its parliamentary and presidential election – with promises by the government that elections will finally be held at the end of 2007. Questions of regime legitimacy, political participation, corruption, social reconstruction and reconciliation, poverty alleviation, and development are acute. Will Angola, with its vast and untapped natural resources and record economic growth, have the capacity to address these critical issues while maintaining social stability and “managing” the high level of

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expectations of all population groups? That the current impoverishment of Angolans is often attributed to a substantial worsening of the conditions of distribution of national income is telling. As pointed out in a recent economic report on the country, “if the assumptions that currently underlie the distribution of income from oil are not substantially altered, the perverse effects of the oil economy on the Angolan economy and society will increase” (UCAN 2003, 5). But these are issues for another volume.

APPENDIX 1 Maps

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Maps

161

Map 1 Angola political map United Nations, Department of Peacekeeping Operations, Cartographic Section, Map No. 3727 Rev. 3 January 2004. < http://www.un.org/Depts/Cartographic/map/profile/angola.pdf>.

162

Map 2

From Soldiers to Citizens

Bié’s municipalities and agriculture and trade recovery regions

APPENDIX 2 Survey Questionnaire

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Survey Questionnaire

Questionário Para Desmobilizados de Luena Data ________________ ________________________

165

Número:

Código geográfico

Entrevistador ______________________Relator __________________________ _____ 1. Província______________________ 2. Município ____________________________ 3. Comuna ______________________ 4. Ombala _____________________________ 5. Imbo linene____________________ 6. Imbo _______________________________

I. Identificação

7. Nome do entrevistado _________________________________ 8. Idade 9. Sexo: a. Masculino

b. Feminino

10. Origem: Província________________ Município ____________________ 11. Estado Civil: a. casado(a)

b. união de facto

c. divorciado(a)

d. separado(a)

e. solteiro(a)

f. viúvo(a)

g. Outro

indica ______________________________________

12. Tem quaisquer outras relações conjugais?

a. Sim

b. Não

Se sim, detalhes ____________________________________________________ 13. Habilitações literárias: a. I nível

b. II nível

c. III nível

d. Médio

e. Universitário

f. analfabeto

14. Religião

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a. Protestante d. Outro

b. Católico

c. Sem religião

___________________________

15. Língua materna: a. Umbundu

b. Kimbundu

d. Outra

c. Nganguela

_______________________ Outras línguas faladas em casa:

16. a. Umbundu

b. Kimbundu

c. Nganguela

d. Tchokwe

e. Kikongo

f. Português

g. Outras _________________________________________________________ II. Desmobilização & Retorno

17. Chegou aqui há quantos meses atras? ____________ 18. Veio sozinho ou acompanhado? a. Sozinho b. Acompanhado

por quem? __________________________

19. Este é o seu local de nascimento? a. Sim

[Salte para a pergunta 21]

b. Não

[Salte para a pergunta 20]

20.Se não for seu local de nascimento: Já aqui viveu anteriormente? a. Sim, antes da vida militar b. Sim, durante a vida militar c. Não, nunca

[Salte para a pergunta 22]

21.Se nasceu aqui ou se viveu aqui antes: Quando partiu pela ultima vez? 22. Tens família/familiares aqui? a. Sim Quem? ______________________________________________ b. Não

Survey Questionnaire

167

23. Porquê escolheu de vir por aqui? a. Porque é terra natal / dos pais b. Para encontrar a família Quem? __________________ c. Acompanhando esposo/a d. Acompanhando amigo(s) e. Este lugar foi indicado Por quem?_______________ f. Perspectivas económicas Quais?__________________ g. Outro Indica ___________________ 24. O que fazia antes de ir ao serviço militar? (actividade principal) Para quem? a. Biscatos __________________________ b. Camponês c. Agricultor d. Empregado/a Indica_______________________________ e. Negócio Tipo ________________________________ Indica nível f. Estudava __________________________ g. Era criança h. Outro Indica ______________________________

25. Teve alguma formação profissional (antes de ir ao serviço militar)? a. b. c. d. e. f. g. h.

Não, nenhuma Alfabetização Mecânico Motorista Pedreiro Enfermeiro Professor Outro

26. Em que ano ingressou no serviço militar?

Indica _____________

___________

27. Qual foi o seu tempo de permanência no exército?

anos

meses

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168

28. Qual foi a sua patente no exército? a. Coronel

b. Major

c. Capitão

d. Tenente

e. Alferes

f. Aspirante

g. Sargento

h. 2º Sargento

i. Raso

j. Outro

__________________________________

29. Recebeu alguma formação profissional durante o serviço militar? a. b. c. d. e. f. g. h.

Não, nenhuma Alfabetização Mecânico Motorista Pedreiro Enfermeiro Professor Outro ______________

Indica

30. Onde foi desmobilizado? (centro de acolhimento) ___________________ 31. Tem os documentos de desmobilização? a. Sim, todos b. Alguns mas não todos c. Não, nenhum 32. Recebeu o kit de desmobilização?

a. Sim

b. Não

33. Recebeu o subsidio de contingência?

a. Sim

b. Não

34. Quais eram os seus principais desejos logo após a desmobilização? a. Continuar com os estudos b. Formação profissional _____________________

qual?

c. Arranjar um emprego ______________________

qual?

d. Adquirir/construir casa e. Adquirir terra para cultivar f. Ir ao encontro da família g. Assegurar a paz

Survey Questionnaire

h. Outro _____________________

169

indica

35. Estes desejos estão sendo realizados? a.

Sim

b.

Não

Porquê? __________________________________

36. Já foi desmobilizado anteriormente? [durante Bicesse ou Lusaka] a. Sim

quando

e onde

b. Não III. Situação Sócio Económica Actual

37. O entrevistado é o chefe da família?

a. Sim

b. Não

38. Se não, o chefe da família é o seu/a sua: a. Esposo/a

b. Filho(a)

c. Pai/Mãe

d. Irmão/irmã

e. Primo(a)

f. Tio/a)

g. Outro

___________________________________________

39. A casa em que vive é de quem? a. Própria d. Emprestada

b. Da família/ familiares e. Sem casa

c. Alugada

40. Tem acesso a terra arável para cultivar? a. Sim b. Não

[salte para a pergunta 43]

41. Se sim, quantos dias de charrua cultivou este ano? 42. Se sim, esta terra é: a. própria?

b. alugada?

c. emprestada?

43. Quantos pessoas vivem na sua casa? ____________ 44. Quem são as pessoas que vivem na sua casa? (ex. quantos filhos, órfãos, outros...)

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45. Quantos contribuem para o sustento da família? a. Só o entrevistado b. Duas pessoas (entrevistado e esposo/a) c. Mais de duas pessoas 46. Tem mais família próxima noutro local (ex. filhos/esposa)? a. Sim

Quem?_____________________________________

b. Não

[salte para a pergunta 48 ]

47. Se sim espera que ele/s(a/s) se venham juntar a si no futuro? a. Sim

Quando? ___________________________________

b. Não

Porquê? ___________________________________

48. Ocupação / actividade económica principal: a. Biscatos

Para quem? ______________________

b. Camponês c. Agricultor d. Empregado/a

Empregador _____________________

e. Negócio

Tipo ____________________________

f. Estudava

Indica nível _____________________

g. Outro

Indica __________________________

49. Tem outras fontes de rendimentos / alimentação? Para quem? a. Biscatos ______________________ b. Da família

Quem? __________________________

c. Duma ONG/PAM Qual?____________________________ d. Da administração

O quê? _______________________

e. Outro

Quem? _______________________

50. Acha que tem direito ao emprego e à formação profissional? a. Sim

b. Não

Survey Questionnaire

171

51. Se sim, quem será responsável para fornecer esses? ___________ 52. Está integrado em algum projecto ligado aos ex-combatentes? a. Sim

Detalhes:__________________________

b. Não 53. É membro de alguma organização/grupo? a. Sim b. Não

[salte para a pergunta 56]

54. Se sim, de que tipo? a. Religiosa

b. Política

d. Desportiva

e. Tradicional

c. Cívica

Qual / quais? ____________________________________ 55. Se sim, ocupa algum cargo de responsabilidade nessa organização? a. Sim

Indica _____________________________

b. Não 56. É membro duma igreja? a. Sim

Qual?

b. Não

[salte para a pergunta 58]

57. Se sim, esta igreja tem presença aqui?

a. Sim

58. Foi membro duma igreja antes da vida militar? a. Sim b. Sim, mas uma outra igreja/denominação c. Não, nenhuma 59. Foi membro duma igreja durante a vida militar? a. Sim b. Sim, mas uma outra igreja/denominação c. Não, nenhuma

b. Não

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172

60. Com quem passa mais o seu tempo ? (pode escolher mais do quem um) a. Minha família b. Membros/amigos da minha igreja c. Membros de outro grupo / organização d. Outros ex-combatentes e. Outros (identifica quem)

_________

61. A quem recorre mais vezes quando tem dificuldades? a. Igreja

b. Soba

c. Esposo/a

d. Família

e. Administrador

f. Partido

g. Outro

______________________________________

62. Quando estava na vida militar, a quem recorrias quando tinha dificuldades? a. Igreja

b. Soba

c. Esposo/a

d. Família

e. Administrador

f. Partido

g. Outro

______________________________________

63. Quem considera como pessoa mais importante na comunidade? a. Pastor/catequista d. Outro

b. Soba

c. Administrador

______________________________________

IV. Reintegração

64. Neste momento, considera-se a. Civil

b. Militar

65. Considera-se reintegrado na vida civil?

c. Desmobilizado

a. Sim

b. Não

66. Se não, o que é que poderia facilitar a sua reintegração na vida civil? a. Formação profissional b.

Emprego

c.

Terra para cultivar

d.

Outro comportamento da comunidade

Survey Questionnaire

e.

173

Indica

Outro __________

67. Alguma vez pensou regressar a vida militar? a. Sim

b. Não

Se sim porquê?

68. Neste momento, quais são os seus principais desejos(planos) em relação ao futuro? a.

Continuar com os estudos

b.

Formação profissional

c.

Arranjar um emprego ___________________

d.

Adquirir/construir casa

e.

Adquirir terra para cultivar

f.

Ir ao encontro da família

g.

Assegurar a paz

h.

Outro

qual?

indica ________________

69. Pensa que foi bem recebido pela comunidade? a. Sim b. Não

Porquê?________________________________

70. O que fizeram para te receber? [Pode ser mais do que um] a. Arranjaram terra / casa para nós b. Deram-nos comida c. Deram-nos outras coisas d. Fizeram uma reunião e. Fizeram uma cerimónia f. Outro 71.Espera ficar aqui? a. Sim

[salte para pergunta 73]

quais?____________ descreve _________ indica ____________

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174

b. Não 72. Porque pensa sair? a. b. c. d. e.

É difícil ganhar a vida aqui Não se sente a vontade com a comunidade aqui Tem problemas com indivíduos específicos As possibilidades são melhores em outros sítios Outras razões (indica) ____________________________

73. Se houver uma possibilidade de transferir para uma outra área, preferia ficar ou transferir? b. Transferir

a. Ficar

74. Porquê?____________________________________________________ ___ ___________________________________________________________ ___ 75. Como pensa que os desmobilizados poderão contribuir para assegurar a paz no país? a. b. c. d.

Não têm este poder Com o seu trabalho Por meio do perdão / reconciliação Outro

Indica ______________

76. Já ouviu falar das próximas eleições? a. Sim b. Não

[salte para a pergunta 76]

77. Se sim, quem falou? a. Representante do Governo b. Representante do MPLA c. Representante da UNITA d. Representante de um outro partido e. ONG f. Rádio g. O soba

Survey Questionnaire

h. Pessoas da comunidade i. Outros

Quem?_______ ____

78. Já tens conhecimento de alguns partidos políticos? a. Sim Quais______________________________________ b. Não 79. Na sua opinião votar é: a. Uma obrigação decidida pelo Governo/Administração b. Uma obrigação decidida pela UNITA c. Um direito que lhe é dado por ser Angolano que posso ou não usar Se outra resposta, indica__________________________________________ ______________________________________________________________ __ 80. Acha que as eleições são importantes para a consolidação da paz? a. Sim b. Não

Se sim, como?

81. Votou nas eleições de 1992? a. Sim b. Não 82. Irás votar nas próximas eleições?

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176

a. Sim b. Não c. Não sei Se não ou não sei, porquê?

83. Estarias interessado em tomar parte numa campanha eleitoral? a. Sim

b. Não

[salte para a pergunta

85] 84. Se sim, como? a. b. c. d.

Ser nomeado para candidato Organizar comícios / eventos Participar em comícios/eventos Outro

Indica _____________

85. Quais são as fontes de informação para quais tens acesso? a. Soba b. Representante do governo c. Representante do MPLA d. Representante da UNITA e. Emissão de Rádio f. Jornal/ boletins/panfletos g. Televisão h. Internet i. Outro

(indica qual/quais) (indica qual/quais) (indica qual/quais) (indica qual/quais)

Indica____________________________________________________ ___ _________________________________________________________ ___ Obs: ______________________________________________________________

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—— (GPAV B) (2004), Avaliação da Vulnerabilidade da População à Insegurança Alimentar: Novembro 2003 a Abril 2004 (Kuíto: Grupo Provincial de Análise da Vulnerabilidade, Bié). —— (GPAV C) (2004), Avaliação da Vulnerabilidade da População à Insegurança Alimentar Novembro/03 a Abril/04 (Huambo: Grupo Provincial de Análise da Vulnerabilidade, Huambo). GTZ (2001), Demobilisation and Reintegration of Ex-Combatants in Post-War and Transition Countries: Trends and Challenges of External Support, Division 43: Health, Education, Nutrition and Emergency Aid. —— (2002), Security Sector Reform in Developing Countries: An Analysis of the International Debate and Potentials for Implementing Reforms with Recommendations for Technical Cooperation (Eschborn: GTZ). Hare, P. (1998), Angola’s Last Best Chance for Peace: An Insider’s Account of the Peace Process (Washington DC: United States Institute of Peace). Harris, G. (2004), “The Case for Demilitarisation in sub-Saharan Africa,” in Harris, G. (ed), Achieving Security in Sub-Saharan Africa: Cost Effective Alternatives to the Military, Institute for Security Studies (Pretoria: ISS). Heller, P. (2005) “Guns Beneath the Table: Contingent DDR and Political Stalemate in Côte D’Ivoire,” in Fitz-Gerald, A. and Mason, H. (eds). Holsti, K. (1996), The State, War, and the State of War, Cambridge Studies in International Relations (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Howen, N. (2001), Peace-building and Civil Society in Angola: A Role for the International Community (London: DFID/FCO). Human Rights Watch (2003), Struggling Through Peace: Return and Resettlement in Angola (Washington DC: Human Rights Watch). Humanitarian Assistance Co-ordination Unit (UCAH/DRO A) (1995), Identificação das Expectativas Sociais e Económicas dos Militares e Desmobilizados das FAA e da UNITA, Draft Report (Luanda: UCAH/DRO). —— (UCAH/DRO B) (1995), Reintegration Strategies for Demobilised Soldiers under the Angolan Peace Process (Luanda: UCAH/DRO). Huntington, S. (1968), Political Order in Changing Societies (New Haven and London: Yale University Press). —— and Nelson, J. (1976), No Easy Choice: Political Participation in Developing Countries (Cambridge: Harvard University Press). Instituto de Reintegração Sócio Profissional dos Ex-Militares (2003), Programa Geral de Desmobilização e Reintegração (Angola: IRSEM). International Crisis Group (2003), “Angola’s Choice: Reform or Regress,” Africa Report, No. 61 (Luanda/Brussels: ICG). —— (2003), “Dealing With Savimbi’s Ghost: The Security and Humanitarian Challenges in Angola,” Africa Report, No. 58 (Luanda/Brussels: ICG). International Organization for Migration (IOM) (1997), Report on IOM Angola Demobilization-Related Activities – 1997 (Geneva: IOM). —— (2002), UNITA ex-FMU soldiers demographic, socio-economic profiles for return and reintegration planning activities (Geneva: IOM). International Republican Institute (IRI) (2004), Percepções dos Angolanos em relação às próximas eleições (Luanda: IPES/IRR).

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Index ADRA (Agency for Rural Development and the Environment) 56 ADRP (Angola Demobilization and Reintegration Program) 40 AFL (Armed Forces of Liberia) 15 “Agenda for Peace” approaches, criticisms of 138–9 agriculture 64–5, 68–9 Albright, M. 45 Almond, G. 11 Amnesty International 14n24, 15 Andulo demobilization kits 85n2 reintegration, perceptions of 111 resettlement in 66–7 school enrollment rate 66 Angola administrative provincial structure 49–50 complicated history of DDR in 40–8 political map 161 war, catastrophic consequences of 50 Angolan Armed Forces see FAA Annan, K. 8, 18 Anstee, M. 41n9, 42, 43 Arusha Peace Process 15 Austin, R. 154 Ball, N. 17, 21, 22n35, 86, 139–40, 142 Bicesse Peace Accords (1991) 35 Bicesse process, collapse of 43 disarmament, slow rate of 42–3 external actors 41–2 joint commissions 41 planning and implementation, insufficient time for 42, 43 resources, lack of 42, 43 stipulations of 41 “triple-zero” clause 42–3n15, 45n21 UNITA, incomplete quartering of 43n16

Bié province, post-war agricultural recovery 64–5 Andulo demobilization kits 85n2 resettlement in 66–7 school enrollment rate 66 civil war, effects of 60 commerce 65 displaced people, resettlement of 61 education 62 healthcare, and diseases 62 humanitarian agencies, and inaccessible areas 64 income, sources of 63–4 Kuíto city, effects of war on 66, 67 location 60 municipalities and trade recovery regions, map of 162 organizational capacity/coordination, lack of 61–2 population 60 provincial government, structure of 61 quartering/gathering areas 66 road reconstruction 60 socio-economic opportunities 65 state administration, development of 61 traditional authorities 67–8 Boshoff, H. 19 Bouta, T. 26, 30 Boutros-Ghali, B. 138 Burundi, DDR in 18, 19 Catholic Church 69, 93–4, 157 CBO (Community Based Organization) 1, 33n2, 153, 157 CCPM (Joint Political-Military Commission) 41 Cleaver, K. 12

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CNDD-FDD (Conseil National pour la Défense de la Démocratie – Forces pour la Défense de la Démocratie (Burundi)) 15 Cold War, end of 11–12 Colleta, N. 9n11, 10, 11n15, 12, 15, 19–20, 22, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 31, 109 communities ex-combatants, reception of community links 124–5, 126–7, 149 family presence 125 land access 120 land area 121 local conflict, potential for 98 military identity 148 military rank 134 as percentage 99 reintegration, perception of 149 resource allocation 99–100 social capital 31–2 special treatment 98 traditional welcoming ceremonies 99 trust, issue of 125–6 urban/rural areas 112, 113t well-received 98, 145 focus on 149–15030, 153 involvement of in planning and design phase 31 reintegration, communities as key to 123–4 UNITA soldiers, community response to 98–100 contexts, of reintegration DDR programs, context-specific 26–7 economic destruction 24 opportunity structures 23, 24, 31 post conflict environments 23 “pre-discharge” orientation activities 24–5 “reintegration into poverty” 25–6 reintegration programs, design of 25n41 socio-economic data, gathering of 24–5 state authority, collapse of 22–3 structural problems, and sustainability of peace 26 war to peace transitions, and concept of “re-integration” 23–4 convenience sampling approach 76 criminality, increased 28

DDR (Demobilization, Disarmament and Reintegration) programs challenges posed by 8–10 complexity of 137–8 demilitarization 1–2, 10–14 development assistance actors, role of 9–10 initiatives promoting understanding of 7–8 integrated standards 8 long-term approach, need for 9 national policy planning 138 organizations, involvement of 10 and peacebuilding, symbiotic relationship between 138–40 proliferation of 7 reinsertion support 142 reintegration 2–3, 19–32 security and development, integration of 9–10 shift in importance apportioned to 9 UNDP support for 9 war to peace transitions 14–19 see also reintegration DDRR (disarmament, demobilization, reinsertion and reintegration program) 139 de Watteville, N. 84 demilitarization Cold War 11–12 DDR programs 1–2 dual dimensions of 13–14 importance of 1 inter-state wars, aftermath of 11 militarism, modernization and statebuilding 11–12 peacetime processes 11 security sector reform 13 socio-economic dimensions 12–13 versus war to peace transitions 10 demobilization complexities of 46–7 definition of 16 documentation 83, 84t kits 84–6 processes, complexity of 16 reinsertion programs 86 subsidies 83–4, 85t, 86t Derg army, Ethiopia’s demobilization of 16, 18, 27

Index DFID (Department for International Development (UK)) 10, 13, 39 differentiated long term reintegration support see former combatants versus other vulnerable groups disarmament of FMU 38–9 slow rate of 42–3 as social contract 17 strategies for 21–2 of UNITA, as critical issue 45–6 see also DDR dos Santos, E. 157 Douglas, I. 7, 16, 20, 21, 23, 28, 29, 32 DPKO see UNDPKO DRC (République du Congo) 15, 18, 25n40 DRP (demobilization and reintegration programs) 12, 19, 86 Durston, J. 151 DW (Development Workshop) 57, 80, 125 economic dimensions, of reintegration economic environment 115, 138–9 economic standing economic independence 115 expectations, unmet 117–18 house ownership 88, 115, 116t main economic activity 116, 117t “non-reintegrated”, future plans of 118 reinsertion support, provision of 115 reintegration kits/subsidies 115, 116t food aid 87–8 household income earners 87 income, sources of 87 land ownership 88–9 primary economic activity 88–9 urban/rural differences 89–91 professional skills 91–2 education 62, 70–1, 78t, 91–2, 141–2 El Salvador 28 elections 1992 elections 102 attitudes to 103, 106–7, 113 candidates, willingness to serve as 113–14, 155 ex-combatants perceptions of 102 next elections 102–3 participation in 105–6

187

post-war legislative/presidential 101 sources of information, and views on 128, 129 UNITA, as political movement 101 voting, as obligation 104 Elliott, L. 150, 151, 154 EPDRF (Ethiopian Popular Revolutionary Democratic Front) 16 Ethiopia, and demobilization of Derg army 16, 18, 27 EU (European Union) 10, 53, 70n44 FAA (Angolan Armed Forces) 34, 35, 37, 40, 41, 60, 67, 73, 81, 146 FAEM (National Entrepreneur Support Fund) 55n12 FARDC (Forces Armées de la République du Congo (DRC)) 14 FAS (Social Support Fund) 53, 70n44 FDES (Economic and Social Support Fund) 55n12 Fitz-Gerald, N. 14, 18 FMU (UNITA’s Military Forces) 37–9 FNL (Forces Nationales de Liberation (Burundi)) 15 FNLA (National Front for the Liberation of Angola) 51, 114 food aid 87–8 former combatants versus other vulnerable groups Angolan case as example 144 commonalities between 36 criminality, potential for increased 27–9 disagreements on effectiveness of 143–4 former combatant profile 145–6 former combatant specificity “civilianization”, perception of by former combatants 147–8 community reception 148–9 demobilized identity, instrumentalization of 148 geographical variations 148 military service experiences, aspects of 148 rank, and military identity 148–9 reintegration, and identity 147 sense of achievement, and expectations 146 social reconciliation 147

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former combatants, remobilization of 30–1 rationale for 142–3 Fukuyama, F. 151 Gamba, V. 20 Gambari, I. 157 Gawerc, M. 137, 151 GIAMDA (Interministerial Office to Support the Demobilized Military of Angola) 41, 44 Gomes Porto, J. 34, 36, 37 GTZ (Deutsche Gesellschaft fur Technische Zusammenarbeit) 2, 10, 13, 23, 29, 115, 140, 144 GURN (Government of Unity and Reconciliation) 44 Harris, G. 13–14 healthcare 62, 71 Heller, P. 139 HIV/AIDS 7 Holsti, K. 23 house ownership 88, 115, 116t Huíla province accessibility problems 69 agricultural production, loss of 69 banks 70 Chipando, return movements 73–4 data gathering 72–3 educational infrastructure, destruction of 70–1 geography and agriculture 68–9 healthcare 71 Lubango, and IDPs 72–3 post-war displacement figures 69 post-war trade boom 70 professional associations 70 provincial/municiple administration 68 quartering/gathering areas 71 traditional authorities 71–2 UN presence 69 human rights monitoring, by NGOs/CBOs 157 humanitarian crisis, post-war access problems 34–6, 64 civil war, devastation in wake of 33–4 DDR programs, failure of 33

humanitarian catastrophe, and DDR parameters 36 humanitarian operation, scale of 33n2 military victory, and cease fire 34 resettlement and return movements 36 Huntington, S. 11 ICRC (International Committee of the Red Cross) 57, 68n39 IDDRS (Integrated Demobilization Disarmament and Reintegration Standards) 8, 17n27, 19n30, 21, 25n41, 27 IDP (Internally Displace Person) 3, 24, 26, 27, 29, 36, 40, 57, 59, 72, 73, 150 ILO (International Labour Organization) 8n7, 10 income, sources of 63–4, 87 INEFOP (National Institute for Employment and Training of Angola) 62 Inter-Agency Working Group on DDR (UN) 8 IRI (International Republican Institute) survey elections, attitudes to 103, 106–7 party membership and political activism 106–7 political party membership, and income 122 IRSEM (Institute for Socio-professional Reintegration of Former Combatants) 44, 56 Ituri 22–3, 30 Jackson, R. 23n36 JMC (Joint Military Commission) 37 Joint Commission 44, 46, 157 JURA (UNITA youth group) 94 Kingma, K. 18, 100, 109, 143–4, 146 Knight, M. 1, 8n7, 10, 10n14, 15, 17, 21, 31n49, 139 Kumar, K. 153, 154 Lala, A. 25, 28 Lamb, G. 11 land area, and reintegration community reception 121 perceptions of reintegration by 119

Index political organizational membership 122 land ownership/access, and reintegration community reception 120 economic dimensions, of reintegration 88–9 identity, perception by 119–20 political organizational membership 121, 122, 123t reintegration, perception by 119 training, entitlement to 121 Last, D. 17 Lederach, J. 137, 138–9, 152 Liberia DDR program 18–19 peace process 15 LIMA (UNITA women’s group) 94 Luena Process, DDR in 37–40 Lukamba, P. 101 Lusaka peace process 34, 35, 101, 146 Lusaka Protocol (1994), DDR following 41, 51, 157 DDR, new framework for 43–4 demobilization, complexities of 46–7 disarmament, as critical issue 45–6 ex-combatant socio-economic profile 47–8 government institutions, new 44 quartering and registration 44–5 reintegration program priorities 48 UNAVEM III, phased withdrawal of 48 Maynard, K. 150 MDRP (Multi-country Demobilization and Reintegration Programme) 144 media, as information source 107, 156 Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) (Luanda) 146, 157 Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) (Luena process) 37, 101 Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) (Lusaka process) 34 Methodist missionary network 94 militarism, modernization and state-building 11–12 military rank see rank MINARS (Ministry for Assistance and Social Reintegration) 38, 40, 44, 56 mission civilisatrice 138

189

MONUA (United Nations Mission of Observers) 48 Mozambique criminality, increased 28 DDR program 18, 22, 26 peace process 15n25 MPLA (Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola) 51, 59, 97, 104, 105, 105t, 107, 114 MSF (Médicins sans Frontières) (Doctors without Borders) 62, 73 Namibia reintegration program 143 national income, unequal distribution of 157–8 new social contract disarmament 1 political rehabilitation 154 returnees 32n50 transformation of minds 147 NGOs (non-governmental organizations), activities of 18, 33n2, 40, 44, 46, 48, 53, 54, 56, 57, 65, 87, 93, 118, 141, 148, 153, 157 non-probability sample design 76 NRA (National Resistance Army (Uganda)) 12 Ntoni-Nzinga, D. 33n1 OCHA (Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (UN)) 56, 69 OECD/DCD-DAC (Organization for Co-operation and Development, Development Co-operation Directorate) 13 OECD (Organization for Co-operation and Development) 11 oil, distribution of income from 158 opportunity structures 23, 24, 31 Owen, N. 157 Ozerdem, A. 1, 8n7, 10, 10n14, 15, 17, 21, 31n49, 139 PAR (Rehabilitation Support Programme) 53, 70n44 Paris, R. 138 Parsons, I. 34, 36, 37 PIP (Public Investment Program) 53

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planning and implementation, insufficient time for 42, 43 political dimensions, of reintegration consultation, and civil society organizations 157 democratic practice 100, 156 human rights monitoring 157 information sources 107 “Movement for Peace” 157 party activism 105–7 political campaigning 105–6 political parties, knowledge of 104–5, 113–14 political rehabilitation, as critical 154 UNITA and government, reconciliation process between 156–7 see also elections PRC (Community Rehabilitation Program) 53 “pre-discharge” orientation activities 24–5 Protestant Church, and UNITA 93–4, 157 PRSP (Poverty Reduction Strategy Paper) 140, 142 Putnam, R. 151 Pye, L. 11 radio, as key information source 107 Ramsbotham, O. 147 rank, and reintegration community reception, and military rank 134 expectations at demobilization, by military rank 135–6 jobs/training, attitude to by military rank 134–5 middle ranking officers, as threat 132–3 military identity 148–9 military service, length of 81–3 reintegration, self-perceptions of by rank 133 reinsertion programs 17–18, 19, 115, 142 reintegration assistance, targeted approach 142–9 contexts of 22–7 economic standing 115–18 land ownership/access, surveying for 118–23 long-term, focusing on 137–42 military rank, surveying for 132–6

political participation 153–8 social capital 149–53 social networks 123–32 time-frames for 19–22 urban/rural divide 109–14 vulnerable groups 27–32 see also DDR programs “reintegration into poverty” 25–6, 49 reintegration kits 115, 116t reintegration subsidies 115, 116t Report on the High-Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change (UN) 8 research methodology 3–4, 109 project 2–4 questions 3 survey questionnaire 166–77 resettlement locations, of UNITA soldiers family ties to 78–9 no ties to 80 previous ties to 78, 79f road reconstruction 54, 60 rural/urban divide see urban/rural divide, and reintegration Savimbi, J. 34, 45, 52, 66, 67, 94, 157 Schuurman, F. 126n5 security and development, integration of 9–10 Soares, M. 45 Soba 95–6, 107, 127–8, 141n3 social capital, and reintegration authority, perceptions of 97–8, 123–4 church membership 93–4, 152 communities, focus on 149–50, 153 family networks, and resettlement decisions 152–3 friendship/acquaintance ties of 127 identity, own perception 92–3 identity perceptions, and previous links to community 124–5 organizational membership identity by 130–1 influence of type of 130 by municipality 128, 130 perception of identity by 131–2 political 152 by type 94

Index organizations, positions of responsibility held 94–5 reconciliation and psychosocial healing, need for 150 reintegration, own perspectives 92 social reconstruction 149–53 support networks 95–6 trust 97–8 see also communities Sogge, D. 42 SSR (Security Sector Reform Standards) 1, 138, 140 state violence 12 state weakness and decay, local contexts Angola, administrative provincial structure 49–50 Bié province 60–8 climate 50 Huambo province 50–9 Huíla province 68–74 language 50 population 50 resettlement into poverty 49 state authority, collapse of 22–3 war, catastrophic consequences of 50 Stockholm Initiative, on DDR 7, 17n27 survey methodology, situation-specific (Huambo, Huíla, Bié) 3–4 sustainable peace, need for commitment to 1 targeted approach see former combatants versus other vulnerable groups time-frames, for reintegration disarmament strategies 21–2 individual, transformation of 20 long-term, focusing on 21–2, 137–42 planning and implementation, insufficient time for 42, 43 process, long-term nature of 20–1 reintegration versus reinsertion 19 short- versus long-term frames 19–21 short to medium term interventions 22 traditional authorities 67–8, 71–2, 97 training, and reintegration 91–2, 141–2 Troika (Portugal, Russia, US) 37, 41, 157 UCAH (Humanitarian Assistance Coordination Unit) 46n46, 47 Uganda Veterans Assistance Program 22

191

UN (United Nations) DDR programs 7–8 peacekeeping doctrine 154 peacekeeping operations 1 UNAVEM I (United Nations Angola Verification Mission) 41–2 UNAVEM II (United Nations Angola Verification Mission) 41–2 UNAVEM III (United Nations Angola Verification Mission) 44, 45 UNDAF (United Nations Development Assistance Framework) 140 UNDP (United Nations Development Program) 1, 9, 69 UNDPKO (United Nations Department of Peacekeeping Operations) 7, 8, 16, 17, 18, 24, 27, 30, 31, 142 UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees) 10 UNITA (National Union for the Total Independence of Angola) 15, 34, 35, 37, 38–9, 41, 42, 44–5, 51–2, 60, 66, 67, 71, 73, 128, 146 demobilized soldiers, reintegration of age 76, 77f community response 98–100 composite portrait 75 demobilization 83–6 economic dimensions 86–92 education levels 78t gender 76, 77t interviewees 75 languages spoken 77 literacy levels 78 marital status, and household structure 80–1 military service, rank and length of 81–3 political dimensions 100–7 rank and length of military service 81–3 resettlement locations 78–80 social dimensions 92 surveys, focus groups and key informant interviews conducted 76t textual description 75f and government, reconciliation process between 156–7

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From Soldiers to Citizens

political party, transformation into 156 UNOA (United Nations Office in Angola) 48 urban/rural divide, and reintegration candidates, willingness to stand as 113–14 elections, attitudes to 113 identity, by municipality 112 political parties, knowledge of 113–14 primary economic activity 89–91 reception, in urban/rural areas 112, 113t reintegration, perceptions of 110–11 socio-economic circumstances, differing 109–10 training/jobs, right to in urban/rural areas 112, 113t urban life, “ruralization” of 110 “witchcraft”, role played by 112, 121 van de Goor, L. 17, 22n35, 86, 139–40, 142 Vines, A. 42, 45 Vrey, W. 19

war to peace transitions DDR, structures created to oversee 37 demilitarization 37 demobilization, definition of 16 disarmament 16–17, 38–9 divisive issues 15 emergency support 40 fragility of 153–4 negotiated agreements, problems of 14–15 one side victorious 16 political will, need for strong 15–16 quartering process 37–8 “re-integration”, concept of 23–4 sequential approach 17–19 WB (World Bank) 1, 10, 38–9, 40, 144 WFP (World Food Program) 40, 56, 69, 87, 111 “witchcraft”, role played by 112, 121