Civilian Strategy in Civil War

Insights from Indonesia, Thailand, and the Philippines

S. Barter

• Publisher: Palgrave Macmillan
• Year: 2016
• Print ISBN:
  9781137402981
• eBook ISBN:
  9781137402998
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Comparative Politics
• Index: Social Sciences

While typically the victims of war, civilians are not necessarily passive recipients of violence. What options are available to civilians in times of war? This book suggests three broad strategies - flight, support, and voice. It focuses on three conflicts: Aceh, Indonesia; Patani, southern Thailand; and Mindanao, southern Philippines.

CHAPTER 1

Introduction: Civilian Strategy in Civil War

In 2003, the Indonesian military was combing a South Aceh village in search of an Islamic teacher (ulama) who was rumored to be supporting the Free Aceh Movement (Gerakan Acheh Merdeka, GAM). They came to the house of Pitri, a former student, but Pitri had not been seen in the village for several months. Suspicious that Pitri had joined the rebels, the soldiers questioned his sister Parwati. After hours of interrogation, Parwati muttered that the soldiers are not smart enough to catch her brother and are killing her people. At this, she was arrested and taken to the district capital, Tapak Tuan. The next day, help arrived. It neither was the rebels, nor was it the Islamic teacher, but instead the village chief, Murdalis, along with a former village chief, each dressed in government uniform. Chief Murdalis proceeded to serve as Parwati’s advocate, although he was hardly flattering, calling her stupid, “thinking she was Cut Nyak Dien” (Aceh’s revered female warrior). After some small talk, he assured the commander that Pitri had left not because he was a rebel, but instead to find work in neighboring North Sumatra. The former chief assured the commander that the soldiers were right to be suspicious, but that these youths were pro-Indonesia. It was decided that Parwati would be released into the custody of the chief, and when Pitri returned to South Aceh, the chief would bring him to the commander for questioning.¹

For some, this might be uninteresting, the minutia of a larger conflict. Nobody was killed, nobody was beaten, and nobody was betrayed. The story also contains some surprises. The young man fled not because he was displaced or wanted to take up arms, but instead to find work. The army was neither aware of which side he was on, nor did they know if the rebellious Islamic teacher was supported by his students or not. The young woman spoke out against the army and, although taken into custody, escaped unscathed. Most surprisingly, the village chief approached a feared military outpost and the commander approved of his presence, providing an opportunity for local diplomacy. This simple story is actually quite complex, illustrating some of the ways in which various civilians respond to armed conflict. Why, facing the same conflict, would different villagers respond in such distinct ways? What does this tell us about civilians in civil wars?

This book is about the options available to persons who have chosen not to fight. Numerous scholars have studied the organization and strategies of armed groups, including why they target civilians. The world of civilian strategy remains opaque. Civilians typically feature as hapless bystanders, either abused dependent variables or candidates for aid. Surprisingly, there has been little research regarding the potential of civilians strategizing in order survive, and perhaps even prosper, in armed conflicts. This is particularly surprising because of the widely held view that insurgents survive only through popular support. Communist guerrillas and counterinsurgency experts agree on the centrality of hearts and minds, suggesting some role for civilians in shaping conflict outcomes. The forms of civilian strategies and how they shape armed conflict have yet to be explored. I aim to close this gap.

I propose that civilians possess three broad options: flight, support, and voice. They may flee from violence for various lengths of time or distance; they may support one or another armed group by providing supplies, labor, or information; or they may at times protest, criticizing armed groups in an effort to shape their behavior. Additionally, civilians may combine the three options in novel ways, for instance, mixing the support and voice strategies to transform an armed group from within. This schema provides a memorable, useful approach to understanding how civilians respond to war. Each of these options has been studied before, especially flight (in terms of conflict migration) and support (often approached as collaboration). Flight, support, and voice are not always approached as choices, and have yet to be studied as part of a broader menu of potential civilian strategies. Obviously, the position of civilians can be a perilous one. While they tend to be victims of armed conflict, civilians also possess significant options. Their responses can mean the difference between life and death.

The literature on civil wars, as well as human rights and media reports, refers to civilians as a singular, anonymous group. They are victims, refugees, peasants, or campesinos. In contrast, this study differentiates among various societal forces. The need to disaggregate “civilians” into sociological categories became apparent as I discovered that, facing the same armed conflict, different types of civilians made distinct choices. Within a single village, religious figures, chiefs, women, elders, ethnic minorities, and shop owners responded in distinct ways. In his classic account of the Vietnam War, Jeffrey Race (1972, xiv) found that “one of the most striking aspects of my interviews was the great disparity in perception” within Vietnamese villages. Those studying armed conflicts from afar see a homogenous society, while those looking closer see a much different picture. Local variations in civilian responses to war suggest that their strategies are not determined solely by the hard realities of war, but also by social norms.

In addition to shedding light on what civilians do, this study seeks to explain why they do it. Why do some civilians flee, while others stay behind? Why do some civilians support armed groups, while others remain neutral? Why do some civilians speak up, while others remain silent? I assess four ideal-type motivations: security, economic incentives, sociocultural factors, and conviction (ideology and grievance). The first two explanations reflect economic approaches and self-interest, although they differ in degrees of agency. The latter explanations reflect sociological factors and other-regard, again varying in terms of agency. These are not necessarily competing hypotheses, although some may at times be more convincing than others. I hope to show that civilian choices are not unidimensional—civilians are not necessarily easily frightened herds or principled heroes, but instead seek to navigate difficult circumstances to the best of their ability.

While working toward fine-grained distinctions, I hope to speak to several broad questions. How do civilians perceive their potential options? How does geography shape flight? How does territorial control influence civilian support for armed groups? When does voice blur into support? How do armed groups distinguish between support and voice (and what happens when they do not)? Why would armed groups tolerate voice? How does the capacity of armed groups shape civilian strategies? How do the three options change over time or combine with one another? How does the closing of one option affect the salience of the other two? What options does my schema leave out? Under what conditions can civilian decisions actually influence armed groups and shape the course of war?

Fieldwork

Responding to these questions demanded considerable field research in dangerous places. I conducted interviews with over three hundred persons in three Southeast Asian secessionist conflicts: Aceh, Indonesia; Patani, Thailand; and the Maguindanao region of Mindanao, Philippines. Similarities among these cases allow me to hold many factors constant: they are all Southeast Asian secessionist conflicts fought from Islamic peripheries with proud histories as independent sultanates. On the other hand, they also vary in important ways, differences that became increasingly apparent as I carried out my research and that allow for generalizability beyond what a single case study could offer. The cases differ geographically. While Aceh and Maguindanao are located on the edges of large islands, Patani features a porous border with neighboring Malaysia. In terms of ethnic identity, both sides in the Aceh conflict were predominantly Muslim, while the other conflicts feature Muslim minorities resisting non-Muslim host states. Aceh and Patani each have relatively homogenous ethnic minority identities, while Maguindanao is divided among several Muslim ethnic groups and is further divided along clan lines. These cases also differ in terms of rebel cohesion, with Aceh’s rebels remaining relatively united, while rebels in Patani and Maguindanao are fragmented.

Each conflict demanded selecting cases within these cases. Stathis Kalyvas (2006, 218) emphasizes the importance of zones of combatant control in shaping civilian decisions, which he divides into five types: rebel control, contested rebel control, contested, contested state control, and state control. For each case, I worked to include a range of zones of control, an important source of variation that helped to illuminate the logic of civilian strategy. If civilian strategies vary primarily according to zones of control, it is likely that their decisions are based on security. However, if civilians choose the same strategies across zones of control or consistent variation is found within zones, then the explanations will likely be more sociological in nature. This comparison of civilian behavior across zones of combatant control represents a core methodological contribution. In Aceh, I located research sites displaying the full range of combatant control: Bireuen, a rebel stronghold and an ethnically Acehnese district located on the north coast; Tapak Tuan, an ethnically diverse district along the south-west coast, which shifted from state control to modest levels of rebel control during the conflict; Saree, my primary research site, a contested area in the hills of Aceh Besar home to ethnic Javanese minorities and Acehnese majorities; Kutacane, a pro-state ethnic minority area, which was somewhat isolated from the conflict until 2002; and the environs of Banda Aceh, semiurban areas dominated by the state.

I utilized a variety of networks in arranging interviews, helping to avoid selection bias (a trap common among those utilizing “snowballing” techniques). I utilized a mixture of contacts from Acehnese and Indonesian civil society, Western nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), Acehnese academics, the rebel movement, the Indonesian military, clan associations from North Sumatra in Kutacane, and Javanese transmigrants. On a few occasions, I entered villages without previous contacts to see if this changed my findings, and while responses were slower in coming, they were not different. In Saree, I stayed at a rural school operated by locals with whom I have worked for several years. Previous work in Aceh has also informed my research. In 2003, I conducted interviews with displaced persons in North Sumatra and Malaysia while working for a Thai human rights organization. In 2004, 2006, and 2009, I visited Aceh to observe elections, and in 2006, I spent a month on the west coast of Aceh carrying out research on illegal logging. Field research was supplemented by library research as well as interviews with experts and Acehnese communities in Jakarta, Singapore, New York, and Vancouver.

In Patani and Maguindanao, my fieldwork was not as in-depth due to ongoing hostilities. I spent two weeks in southern Thailand, my time divided between the state-dominated regions around the town of Pattani and overnight excursions into contested areas in Songkhla and Yala. My networks included Thai NGOs, local academics, Malay activists, and Islamic modernists. These field interviews are supplemented by a range of interviews in Bangkok and further afield, conducted over several weeks. I also spent three weeks in the Maguindanao region of Mindanao, staying in the state stronghold of Cotabato City and in rebel camps around Lake Buluan. My contacts were largely through colleagues who had conducted previous research there, a reliable network supplemented by personal contacts within the Philippine army and powerful clan leaders. Field research in Mindanao was supplemented by interviews in Manila, Davao City, General Santos City, and Kidapawan, the northern edge of the conflict where the Moro struggle overlaps with the communist insurgency taking place in northern Mindanao. Spending several weeks in the field and several additional weeks in capital cities can by no means lead to firm conclusions about Patani or Maguindanao, nor is this my intent. Instead, research in these conflicts is intended to shed some comparative light on how my findings in Aceh might travel to different regions.

Multisite ethnographic research enabled me to get at fine-grained distinctions across villages and generated highly original data. While staying in particular villages for a few weeks did not permit me the sort of depth found in anthropological fieldwork, it informed a broad view of entire conflicts. Brief stays presented a barrier in terms of interviewing ordinary villagers, as I did not have time to build the trust necessary to conduct many interviews with the poorest members of the community. As a result, my data for ordinary villagers are not as strong as they are for local leaders. I endeavored to overcome this limitation by seeking out informal leaders and minor title holders, as well as taking part in informal coffee shop discussions, a cultural tenet I embraced. I conducted approximately 130 formal interviews: 95 in Indonesia, 15 in Thailand, and 20 in the Philippines. Typical interviews lasted between one and three hours. I provide a full list of interviews in an Appendix. Many were group interviews, so that the number of participants was about 320. This excludes countless informal discussions used to reach ordinary villagers and to corroborate information gleaned from formal interviews. In informal discussions, I took rough notes and kept the conversation open-ended. Interviews were usually carried out in local dialects with the help of a translator, although I could usually keep up with much of the discussion. Sometimes I worked with different translators to avoid bias introduced by their identity or beliefs.

In describing what different types of civilians did during the respective conflicts, my data consist mostly of interviews, supplemented by newspaper and NGO reports. In terms of explaining why different types of civilians chose distinct strategies, the data are more varied. Evidence here includes genealogies of village leaders, interviews, and comparisons across time (previous conflicts and throughout the conflict in question), across groups (comparing with other types of civilians, ethnic groups, up and down hierarchies), and across place (comparing different conflict zones, the conflict region with neighboring regions, and the three Southeast Asian secessionist conflicts).

Findings

My findings help to identify key patterns of civilian behavior that challenge or expand upon conventional understandings of civilians in war. This book’s contributions can be grouped into three areas: civilian agency, Southeast Asian secessionist conflicts, and the drivers of civilian behavior.

First, while civilians are typically understood as hapless, anonymous victims—even in studies that seek to help them—I find room for agency. Civilians possess important strategies—flight, support, voice, and combinations. The potential for civilian agency in war is addressed in chapter 2, and then illustrated throughout the remaining chapters. While not exaggerating their bravery, civilians are far more active than conventional understandings give them credit for.

Second, a microcomparative approach sheds new light on each of my three cases, illuminating the roles of previously ignored actors such as village chiefs and Islamic leaders. I am also led to discuss how ethnic minorities experienced each of these wars differently. In Aceh, almost every study focuses on the northern coast of the province, disregarding how the conflict played out in other parts of the province. A comparative approach sheds light on new aspects of each conflict. While case experts have emphasized transmigration, state capacity, and support for rebel groups, their statements have lacked relativity. Of my three cases, only Mindanao can be said to have endured extensive transmigration, while only Patani faces a strong state. And while Patani experts have spoken of support for rebel groups, it is nowhere near the degree found in Mindanao, or even Aceh. All told, a microcomparative approach promises to lead to new understandings, as well as new debates, in the study of Southeast Asian secessionist conflicts.

Finally, I seek to challenge dominant explanations for civilian behavior. While security conditions are clearly important determinants of civilian choices, sociocultural factors and conviction also play interesting, underappreciated roles. Dominant understandings of civilian responses to war look to security. Kalyvas (2006) emphasizes how zones of combatant control are the primary determinants of behavior. My findings, however, suggest a need for more sociological understandings. While zones of control are clearly important drivers of civilian behavior, these zones are in large part defined by ethnicity, suggesting that civilian behavior may be a cause, not an effect, of combatant power. Within zones of control, I found significant variation among different types of civilians. For instance, in Aceh, village chiefs and Islamic leaders, each of roughly equal rank and age, consistently reacted to the conflict in distinct ways, with chiefs utilizing voice and ulama utilizing support for the dominant regional combatant. This cannot be explained by existing theories. Who a civilian is largely determines what they do in war, more so than conflict dynamics or even the nature of armed groups. Like other forms of political contestation, war is deeply influenced by complex social landscapes.

Roadmap

Chapter 2 provides some theoretical and methodological foundations, sketching out preliminary answers to the questions of what civilians can do and why they choose distinct options. In delineating each option, I provide examples from a wide range of armed conflicts from around the world, helping to show the wide applicability of my schema. I then introduce four ideal-type explanations for civilian strategy, varying in terms of self-interest and agency: security, profit, social norms, and conviction.

For each of my three cases, I begin with description—detailing what civilians did—and then shift to causation—why they choice a particular option in light of potential alternatives. For Aceh, my primary case, this unfolds in greater detail, across three chapters. Chapter 3 provides some background, introducing the societal forces that constitute the types of civilians in the successive chapters...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Chapter 1  Introduction: Civilian Strategy in Civil War
• Chapter 2  Toward a Theory of Civilian Strategy
• Chapter 3  Empirical Foundations, Aceh
• Chapter 4  Aceh’s Civilians in War
• Chapter 5  Explaining Civilian Strategies in Aceh
• Chapter 6  Comparisons, Patani
• Chapter 7  Comparisons, Mindanao
• Chapter 8  Civilian Strategy: Theory and Practice
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Index