Insecure Spaces

Peacekeeping, Power and Performance in Haiti, Kosovo and Liberia

Doctor Marsha Henry, Doctor Paul Higate

• Publisher: Zed Books
• Year: 2013
• Print ISBN: 9781842778876
• eBook ISBN: 9781848137066
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Politics & International Relations
• Subtopic: National Security
• Index: Politics & International Relations

In recent times, the Blue Berets have become markers of peace and security around the globe. Yet, the iconoclastic symbol of both the Blue Beret and the Blue Helmet continue to engage the international political imagination in ways that downplay the inconsistent effects of peacekeeping missions on the security of local people. In this book, Paul Higate and Marsha Henry develop critical perspectives on UN and NATO peacekeeping, arguing that these forms of international intervention are framed by the exercise of power. Their analysis of peacekeeping, based on fieldwork conducted in Haiti, Liberia and Kosovo, suggests that peacekeeping reconfigures former conflict zones in ways that shape perceptions of security. This reconfiguration of space is enacted by peacekeeping personnel who 'perform' security through their daily professional and personal practices, sometimes with unanticipated effects. Insecure Spaces' interdisciplinary analysis sheds great light on the contradictory mix of security and insecurity that peace operations create.

ONE

From conflict to peacekeeping: Haiti, Kosovo and Liberia

What does it feel like to enter the space of a peacekeeping mission? On our fieldwork trip to Cyprus¹ in 2004, for example, it was much like arriving in any other sunny tourist destination in southern Europe. The passengers milling around the airport tended to be white European tourists busy shopping, eating and drinking. While security forces paced through different parts of the airport, nothing seemed out of the ordinary for a tourist destination. However, flying into Toussaint Louverture Airport, on the outskirts of Port-au-Prince; Robertsfield Airport some 35 miles outside of Monrovia; and Priština International Airport, a short distance away from the capital city in the province of Kosovo, were experienced as quite different from stepping off the plane in Cyprus. Yet all four places: Cyprus, Haiti, Liberia and Kosovo are post-conflict countries that play host to UN peacekeeping missions.

The airports of Haiti, Kosovo and Liberia tended to be filled with large numbers of humanitarian workers, Blue Beret peacekeepers and other internationals from around the world. In Kosovo, aged Mercedes taxis queued outside the airport. In Monrovia and Port-au-Prince, few people took taxis (or tap-taps), with most greeted by friends, colleagues or family. The ride from the airport to the city centre in Port-au-Prince is seen by many as risky, where the shortest route skims the notorious ‘gang’ neighbourhood of Cité Soleil. In Monrovia, the combination of storms in the rainy season and lack of street lighting can make the 45-minute journey from the airport to the city centre a treacherous one, not least since roads are in a poor state of repair.

Once inside the capital cities of all these missions one experiences the overwhelming institutional presence of the UN; unlike Nicosia in Cyprus, the UN dominates the urban spaces of Haiti, Kosovo and Liberia. White Toyota Land Cruisers branded with black lettering fill the landscape. Military surveillance equipment and vehicles, especially khaki-coloured jeeps and tanks, are regularly seen patrolling the busy streets. In Liberia and Haiti, where national public transportation is virtually non-existent, the supreme power of the UN vehicles stands in marked contrast to broken-down tap-taps and other ageing vehicles used to transport locals to and from various destinations. Uniformed soldiers and international civilian police, alongside corporate-dressed civilian workers, throng the restaurants, cafés and bars. On Sundays, international workers are seen in abundance at a number of leisure spots, including white sandy beaches in Haiti and Liberia, once a magnet for tourists in more peaceful times.

Peacekeeping mission sites are both exceptional and everyday physical, social and political spaces. On the one hand, each mission has a particular flavour or feel to it, which is dependent upon the historical and political context of the country, the number and composition of peacekeeping troops and civilian contractors, and the UN mandate in force. Missions vary in their degree of safety, a point which can be illustrated by contrasting previous UN deployments to Somalia or the current UN–AU mission in Sudan, where, at the time of writing, several peacekeepers had just been killed. UNFICYP in Cyprus differs sharply from these two examples, as it is safe and peaceful. On the other hand, given that peacekeeping missions have a great deal in common, they can also can be viewed as ‘peace franchises’, a point explored further in Chapter 2. For example, the UN often set up their headquarters in old hotels, and when visiting the main offices of the UN one is struck by the sheer familiarity of these buildings whether in Africa, Europe or the Americas. In some cases restaurants which cater for UN staff are mobile, moving from one mission to another, as is the case with particular Thai restaurant owners in Liberia. The ubiquitous and much-maligned presence of ‘expensive’ Lebanese stores in numerous African missions underscores this sense of familiarity between geographically disparate missions.

In this chapter we provide historical information on the peacekeeping missions of Haiti (MINUSTAH), Kosovo (UNMIK, NATO–KFOR) and Liberia (UNMIL) with the aim of revealing the kinds of spaces to which they have given rise. These research sites were selected for a number of reasons. First, we wanted to have a sample of missions from the Americas, Europe and Africa. We knew that the evolution of conflicts in these regions differed from one another in ways that produced diverse perceptions of security. In Haiti, there was no official civil war, while in Liberia the conflict spanned the years 1989–2003. Kosovo had been part of a larger regional war, and then a more specific localized war in the late 1990s. In this way, each mission’s experiences of security and insecurity was framed by a different trajectory of conflict. Second, we tried to select missions that were similar in both geographical size² and the numbers of personnel employed within them. Here, we made the assumption that the impact of the mission on different actors was likely to be similar. If we had included a mission such as that in Kashmir, for example, we would have been faced with a very small group of UN personnel with whom to work and study. Third, we wanted to research missions that were at different stages of development, but none that was either drawing down or that had been very recently established. First-hand reflections of the spatial feel of each of the sites within which fieldwork was conducted are examined below, together with an overview of the historical and political context of these countries. We also include a sense of the everyday nature of the missions in terms of security perception of both international staff who work and live in the mission and members of the host population.

All three mission sites share histories of conflict and political turbulence; yet each is unique. Commonalities, however, should not be taken as evidence that each of these countries can be labelled as inherently insecure or violent. Simplistic assumptions made about any one country’s pathological trajectory or genealogy adds little to an in-depth understanding of the complex nature of conflict in each of these research sites. However, similarities across these UN and NATO–KFOR mission sites included: allegations of state incompetency; the ongoing existence of corruption and repression together with the violent activities of security forces; the active role of paramilitaries and/or criminal gangs; the dynamism of charismatic and popular leaders; widespread poverty and or/unemployment; and, finally, sharp levels of social stratification based on socio-economic status, ethnicity, ‘race’ and/or tribe.

Political histories and spatial feels

HAITI

Unlike many other countries in the region, Haiti gained independence early. In 1804 the first slaves rebelled against their colonial masters, an event which threatened to destabilize the dominant European order (Hallward 2004; Sheller 2000).³ Haiti enjoyed tense relationships with its former colonial power, France, and with its long-established neighbour, the United States. By 1915, Haiti was occupied by the USA under the guise of promoting ‘stability and democracy’; however, the USA helped to entrench racial divisions and hierarchies by favouring the light-skinned mulatto elites (Sangmpam 1995: 634). The USA withdrew in 1934 after growing confrontations, but was keen to see the ‘right’ leader in power in order to maintain interests in the region. In 1957 François ‘Papa Doc’ Duvalier was elected president, with US backing. Duvalier, a doctor and product of US rule, identified himself as noiriste (a partisan of black citizens, rather than light-skinned elites), and attempted to elevate indigenous Haitian culture as a national response to colonialism or US domination in the region (Farmer 2006: 91). After the death of Duvalier in 1971, he was succeeded by his son Jean-Claude, or ‘Baby Doc’, who ruled in a similar autocratic fashion.

By 1986, many Haitians felt that they had suffered from two consecutive dictatorships. A popular movement fuelled by many diasporics who had fled during the repressive Duvalier years began to gain momentum, and Jean-Bertrand Aristide, ‘an ex-Salesian father and part of the grassroots Catholic movement’, emerged as a potential leader (Gammage 2004: 748). With the backing of the country’s elite, in 1991 a brutal coup led by the head of the army Raoul Çedras saw the ousting of President Aristide. The ensuing period evolved into a protracted period of violence against many poor Haitians. The international community began to recognize that conditions in Haiti were spiralling out of control by early 1993, when the UN adopted Resolution 841, imposing an embargo on weapons, oil and petroleum; plans for a multinational force with Canadian, US and French troops (UN Mission in Haiti: UNMIH) were initiated but never fully completed.⁴ In mid-1994 the UN Security Council adopted Resolution 940, which led to the creation of a multinational force (MNF) that intended to use force to facilitate the departure of the military leadership. In March 1995, the UN assumed leadership of the mission and approximately 6,000 UN troops were deployed across Haiti. In December 1995 elections were held. Aristide returned to contest the leadership again and met with widespread support, but René Preval was elected. Aristide’s party, Famni Lavalas, became increasingly associated with illegal and violent activities. The activities of some of Aristide’s supporters and rival groups, widely labelled as gangs or chimères (ghosts), led not to the democratic ideal that was expected by many Haitians, but instead to civil violence, which became the everyday norm, especially for those living in the capital Port-au-Prince. The height of this conflict occurred over the course of one month, immediately preceding Aristide’s departure from Haiti in January 2004.

Following Aristide’s exit, the UN authorized the deployment of a Multinational Interim Force called the Mission in Haiti (MIH) made up of troops from the USA, Canada, France and Chile. In April 2004 the UN Security Council replaced MIH with the UN Stabilization Mission in Haiti (MINUSTAH) under Resolution 1542. This force, led by Brazil and with troops predominantly from Latin America, was to number approximately 9,000 (Dupuy 2005: 187). In 2007 the mission had 7,200 military personnel and 1,951 civilian police.⁵ Along with the establishment of a UN mission, Gerard Latortue, a former UN worker, was appointed to serve as the interim prime minister. In 2006, a series of elections, monitored by MINUSTAH, saw the election of René Preval as president.

After a chaotic flight from the USA that required a stopover in Miami, we arrived in Haiti. Upon leaving the aircraft we were met by dry hot weather nudging 30 degrees Celsius. In the arrivals hall we were welcomed by our UN contact, who whisked us away in an air-conditioned white UN vehicle to a quaint hotel in Pétionville. After dropping our bags, we were taken for food and refreshments at a well-known French restaurant that is mostly frequented by wealthy locals and UN personnel. After lunch, we had just a little while to settle in before our fieldwork began the next day. Sitting out that evening on the terrace of our rooms, everything sounded peaceful and calm in the city. The view from our terrace was sheltered by lush trees and vegetation, making our hotel an oasis in the middle of the city.

Early on Monday morning we were woken by the sounds of car horns, alarms and heavy traffic in the nearby area. We were driven by our contact’s driver to UN headquarters where we began interviews with UN military and civilian staff. There was no access to UN transportation for the duration of our fieldwork, necessitating the use of a rental car from a recommended company across town. Our UN driver was not sure if he was able to travel in that particular area as it was thought to be part of the notorious ‘red zone’ (areas off-limits for all UN staff). As it turned out, the rental car office was located near to the airport, and on the border of the neighbourhoods of Cité Militaire and Cité Soleil, areas considered to include a number of the most insecure neighbourhoods in Port-au-Prince. Eventually we made it to the rental compound, which was heavily guarded.

The experience of the secure and insecure spaces of Port-au-Prince was visceral as we moved between and within areas of danger and safety. Unfamiliarity with the city’s layout was not only disorienting but encouraged us to continually ask whether we were venturing into the UN red, green or amber zones, each of which impacted on our sense of security. Whilst in Port-au-Prince, we were advised to avoid travelling after sundown, which we did. As private individuals there was little protection against any form of crime or violence as we did not carry any weapons and were unable to speak Kreyol, compounding our sense of occasional isolation and vulnerability. Though a driver was available in the daytime and early evening, we more or less stayed within the UN recommended travel zones, which meant avoiding suburbs such as Cité Soleil, Cité Militaire, Bel Air, Martissant and Carrefour. It was inadvisable to walk much of the city; consequently our perceptions of security were very much vehicle-centred. Unlike field trips to Liberia, where it was possible for us to walk in certain parts of Monrovia and in the counties, Port-au-Prince had a reputation for being a violent and dangerous city and we complied with the advice given to us by our UN contact as well as by the UN Security Office. In addition, conversations with locals confirmed for us a general public feeling of anxiety and fear about the city and the everyday dangers of robbery and kidnapping.

Exposure to the space of the city was also temporally limited to the daytime and certain ‘safe’ locations in the evening and night-times. In the specific case of Cité Soleil in Port-au-Prince, the stark disparities between citizens is inscribed on the urban landscape⁶ and, indeed, is sharpened considerably when juxtaposed with the presence of wealthy internationals in other parts of the city. Shops are fashioned on the architectural styles of excess, mirroring boutiques in Beverley Hills, or old colonial mansions. The juxtaposition of these buildings with the corrugated iron roofs of the poorer neighbourhoods is stark. In the better-off areas, young boys and men offer to ‘watch and protect’ vehicles, with the expectation of a small payment upon the departure of the privileged few. The acute demand for UN employment for ‘locals’ on wages far beyond what the average Haitian might easily generate elsewhere underscores the absence of wider economic opportunities. Further indicators of poverty and associated inequalities take the form of sex workers touting for business late in the evening on the poorly lit streets of Pétionville.⁷ They gravitate towards the numerous clubs and late-night restaurants, which in turn jostle for the custom of the wealthy – whether elite members of Haitian society or internationals enjoying a night out. Haitians endure a constellation of social and economic disadvantage, together with overcrowding that in turn generates violence. Slum areas are distinguished by: high rates of unemployment, poor sanitation and waste disposal, high levels of violence (particularly against women and children, but also in relation to the number of fatalities for men), poorly resourced schools and health facilities, and extreme poverty for most of their residents (Muggah 2005; Farmer 2006). One of Haiti’s gangs’ more notorious and, during the period of fieldwork, ubiquitous activities turned on their high-profile role in kidnapping. While gangs appear to be motivated by political parties and movements,⁸ this violence can also be understood as financially driven.

Over three years have passed since the UN peacekeeping mission began and yet their impact on security is mixed (Muggah 2005). The threat of being kidnapped motivates many local and non-local residents to restrict their movements throughout the capital and from rural to urban. In Port-au-Prince, levels of insecurity have ebbed and flowed, in spite of the presence of UN military and security forces. Because of the number of peacekeeping missions previously established in Haiti, the history of security forces’ use of violence against the general public and the more recent acts of violence committed by pro-Aristide supporters from poor neighbourhoods have resulted in a serious mistrust of the international community. The legacy of Haiti’s complex history continues to resonate across this mission site and its population in numerous ways. In sum, our particular sense of this came in terms of the highly concentrated and territorially discrete slums in and around the capital city. These areas were categorized by the UN as ‘red zones’, both concentrations of insecurity and the focus of rigorous peace enforcement work. Their impact on the spatial feel of the fieldwork site was considerable and shaped perception of security for internationals working as part of the mission as well as the host population.

KOSOVO

The province of Kosovo’s current status remains contested⁹ primarily by the two major ethnic groups within its boundaries – Albanians and Serbians. Though much of Kosovo’s current insecurity has resulted from years of conflict within the larger region following the fall of Communism, it is also related to Kosovo’s continued state of limbo, an issue yet to be finally resolved some eight years after the UN–NATO deployment.¹⁰ Unlike Haiti, Kosovo is not an independent country. It has been a place of conflict intermittently...

Table of contents

• Cover
• About the author
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• Acknowledgements
• Acronyms and Abbreviations
• Maps of Liberia, Haiti and Kosovo
• Introduction
• 1 From conflict to peacekeeping: Haiti, Kosovo and Liberia
• 2 Space, power and peace
• 3 Zones and enclaves
• 4 Free to move?
• 5 Contesting and consuming: space and success in Liberia
• 6 Performing spaces of security
• 7 Stereotyping performance: peacekeeping and imagined identities
• 8 Women, men and gender space
• Conclusion: Locating power in peacekeeping
• Notes
• References
• Index