Since Bangladesh launched an anti-terror crackdown in response to the high-profile attack on a popular Dhaka café by Islamist militants last July, the country has fortunately not witnessed another major attack on the same scale. Yet sixteen months on from the siege at the Holey Artisan Bakery – during which terrorists massacred 20 civilians with sharp weapons before Bangladeshi commandos stormed the building – fears over violent extremism in the south Asian nation remain ever-present.
Despite thousands of arrests and the deaths of top militant leaders at the hands of state security forces, signs of heightened political tensions and evidence of militant activity just below the surface have raised concerns over the potential for separatist violence and a new wave of attacks, in a country which until recently had little past experience of dealing with terrorism.
Whilst Bangladesh’s improved law enforcement capabilities have almost certainly prevented further bloodshed over the past year, the government of Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina has faced criticism over its somewhat contradictory approach to confronting terrorism. At the same time as pledging to tackle Islamist militants head-on, the government has been accused of facilitating an environment in which extremist ideology can flourish.
This report asks if Bangladesh’s counter-terrorism crackdown will ultimately prove successful in keeping a lid on militant activity, and asks whether the government in Dhaka is doing enough to combat the radical ideology which fuels such violence.
The issue of terrorism in Bangladesh first caught the world’s attention in 2015, after an unrelenting wave of small-scale attacks targeting secular bloggers, university professors, foreign citizens and members of religious minority groups. In all, more than 20 people were shot dead or hacked to death in a two-year period by Islamist militants, with attacks often taking place in broad daylight.
The level of violence was unprecedented in what is usually considered one of the most secular and tolerant Muslim-majority countries, especially in comparison to regional neighbours Afghanistan and Pakistan, which have long been blighted by sectarianism, religious intolerance and suicide bombings. The attacks made global headlines and hit the tourism industry and Bangladeshi economy hard.
PM Sheikh Hasina’s government blamed the attacks squarely on domestic jihadist group Jamaat-ul Mujahideen Bangladesh (JMB), which it said were linked to its political opponents and seeking to destabilize the country. This was despite claims of responsibility for some of the attacks by trans-national jihadist groups including the Islamic State (ISIS) and Al-Qaeda in the Indian Subcontinent (AQIS). Neither claim could be proven concretely, however the government’s investigation into the attacks was roundly criticized at the time as few people were brought to justice over the killings.
The attack on the Dhaka café in July 2016 – often described by analysts as ‘Bangladesh’s 9/11’ – was seen as a game changer, and prompted the government to take concrete action. A sweeping security crackdown followed and large-scale police raids led to the arrest of thousands of suspected terrorist sympathizers across the country, whilst a number of senior militant leaders were killed during security operations. Nine suspected militants were killed in the Kalyanpur neighbourhood of Dhaka just three weeks after the café attack, whilst on 27 August last year police claimed to have killed the head of ISIS in Bangladesh – Tamim Chowdhury – during a raid in Narayanganj.
A newly-formed Counter-Terrorism and Transnational Crime Unit (CTTCU) of the Dhaka Metropolitan police took on hundreds of new recruits was granted a national mandate several months after the café siege, and has overseen counter-terrorism operations across the country. Authorities have clamped-down hard and have received much praise for their actions.
However, a number of small-scale suicide bombings earlier this year reignited fears and indicated a possible shift in tactics away from the knife attacks witnessed in the past, towards more sophisticated and well-planned operations of the nature seen in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Whilst the threat appears to have been contained for now, these developments show there is little room for complacency – especially given that some of the driving factors behind Bangladesh’s surge in terrorism over the last few years remain unresolved.
The initial wave of machete attacks on secular bloggers and foreign citizens came after a period marked by what some analysts describe as a ‘creeping Islamism and sectarianism’ in Bangladeshi society. The rise of religious intolerance was evidenced by two attacks on Shia targets in late-2015. First, a bomb blast targeting a procession outside a Shia shrine left two people dead, before a few weeks later a Shia mosque in Bogra was attacked, killing one person and wounding several others. These attacks on Shia targets – a minority group in Sunni-majority Bangladesh – raised suggestions that some in Bangladesh were becoming increasingly sectarian in mindset.
Longer-term factors have also played a role. Following the country’s 1971 independence war, senior leaders from the Jamaat-e-Islam party were convicted many years later on charges of crimes against humanity, with several of them sentenced to death by hanging. These events have stoked anger and exacerbated tensions in Bangladeshi politics which remain close the surface to this day. The Jamaat-e-Islam party is part of the current opposition alliance to the ruling Awami League, which has been in power since 2009. Divisiveness has been a key feature of the political scene in recent years, which has only worsened as the government has linked the terrorist JMB group to opposition parties.
In this sense, the government’s counter-terrorism campaign must be viewed in the broader domestic political context. The debate over naming perpetrators and ascribing blame following terror attacks has become a heavily politicized issue. Despite numerous claims of responsibility from international terror groups – including for the Dhaka café siege – Sheikh Hasina’s government has continued to deny the presence of ISIS or AQIS within the country’s borders, referring only to the JMB group and domestic political forces looking to ‘destabilize the government’.
This language has facilitated a corresponding crackdown on opposition political parties such as Jamaat-e-Islam and the Bangladesh National Party (BNP), exacerbating concerns that Hasina’s administration is becoming increasingly authoritarian in its approach to governance. More worryingly, absolving ISIS and AQIS of responsibility allows them to act with impunity – if indeed they are directing attacks within Bangladesh – and establish a firmer foothold under-the-radar.
Whilst launching a crackdown and condemning Islamist terrorism, the government’s approach has also been contradictory. At the same time as appearing to clamp down on terrorist elements, PM Sheikh Hasina has several times in the past warned secular bloggers for criticizing religion, saying ‘I don’t consider such writings as free-thinking but as filthy words. It is not at all acceptable if anyone writes against our prophet or other religions’. Some have labelled this as victim-blaming, and say it constitutes a sympathetic attitude towards terrorism, facilitating recruitment and legitimizing extremist ideology. At the very least, many argue that it is an attempt to stifle debate and restrict freedom-of-speech in a country which had been considered relatively open.
Despite these problems, a high-profile attack on the scale of the Dhaka café assault has not been repeated, to a degree validating the government’s strategy and indicating its improved counter-terrorism capabilities. The tide of less-sophisticated lone-wolf attacks has also slowed markedly. However, this type of attack is extremely difficult to guard against as perpetrators make use of easily-obtainable weapons and often have no known links to militant organizations.
When incidents do occur, the government continues to blame local groups such as JMB. And it is true that concrete links between domestic militants and ISIS or AQIS have not been proven, despite claims of responsibility. Yet the politicization of terrorism remains a concern, and a clear distinction must be made between political parties and militant groups unless there is concrete evidence to suggest otherwise.
The government’s denial of ISIS presence in the country raises fears that the violent ideology of transnational jihadist groups is being underestimated. As ISIS continues to lose ground in Syria and Iraq, it may look to further its recruitment in south Asian countries, including Bangladesh. As we have seen recently in the southern Philippines, local groups can be heavily influenced by such ideology and act upon it, whether concrete links to international groups exist or not.
As a result, the authorities in Bangladesh must remain vigilant and alert. The anti-terror crackdown has undoubtedly made progress, but this alone is not enough. Violent ideology must be countered and criticized, meaning that the space for those who wish to defend secular ideals – as well those who wish to defend various strains of religious thought – must be protected in Bangladesh if violent extremism is to be defeated in the long-run.
When Rodrigo Duterte was elected as president of the Philippines in May 2016, hopes were raised for a negotiated end to one of Asia’s longest-running Maoist insurgencies. On the campaign trail Duterte had vowed, if elected, to enter into ‘inclusive talks’ with rebels from the New People’s Army (NPA), the military wing of the once-outlawed Communist Party of the Philippines (CPP). Peace talks did indeed begin in Norway last August, and got off to a positive start with both sides declaring separate ceasefires and agreeing to further rounds of dialogue, which took place in Oslo in October and Rome in January. At the turn of the year, it appeared steady progress was being made.
After several attempts to restart negotiations failed, rhetoric on both sides has become increasingly heated in recent months. In August, President Duterte declared ‘war’ against the Maoists, stating ‘Let’s stop talking, start fighting’, before describing peace negotiations as a ‘waste of time’. The CPP responded by labelling Duterte’s administration as a ‘semi-colonial, anti-peasant regime’, whilst claiming ‘the people have no other recourse but to tread the path of militant struggle and collective action’. Amid the escalating war-of-words and with negotiations still stalled, this report examines the reasons why the peace talks faltered and assesses the prospects of future dialogue.
The history of the modern communist movement in the Philippines dates back to 1968 and the founding of the CPP by a former student activist, Jose Maria Sison, who still leads the organization from self-exile in the Netherlands. The party’s armed wing, the NPA, was established a year later with the aim of overthrowing the central government in Manila through a sustained campaign of armed resistance, referred to by the CPP-NPA as a ‘protracted people’s war’. The movement is rooted in Marxist-Leninist ideology and seeks to establish a political system led by the working classes, which would redistribute land to the poor and expel US influence from the Philippines.
The NPA reached the height of its powers in the early-1980s during the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos, when it attracted widespread public support and had more than 25,000 members. In the democratic era, the movement has declined in strength but still retains an operational presence in most provinces across the country, and now has around 4,800 active members. Clashes between NPA rebels and Philippine troops continue to occur sporadically as the insurgency approaches its sixth decade, despite repeated military crackdowns. The NPA remains especially strong in poorer rural areas where it enjoys widespread support and exercises de-facto control through the collection of ‘revolutionary taxes’; payments which Manila describes as extortion.
Peace negotiations have taken place intermittently in past decades between the National Democratic Front (NDF) – a political grouping which represents the CPP-NPA in formal talks – and successive governments led by Estrada, Arroyo and Aquino, yet to no avail. The election of Duterte last year signalled renewed hope for peace, and the first round of talks with the NDF in August 2016 produced a landmark result: the declaration of ceasefires by both sides. The commitment held and the parties convened again in Oslo two months later, before a third meeting in Rome this January. Yet at the beginning of February, months of careful diplomacy unravelled in a matter of days, whilst efforts to rekindle negotiations in the following months made little progress. Both sides blamed each other as clashes resumed between the army and rebels, leaving many wondering: why did the talks falter, and how did the ceasefire collapse so quickly?
The trigger for the collapse was a result of the peace process reaching a major sticking-point over the release of political prisoners. As the dialogue moved forward, the CPP-NPA had made it clear that the release of imprisoned members was a pre-condition for the continuation of talks, whereas President Duterte maintained he would not release more prisoners until a formal joint ceasefire agreement had been signed. Tensions surrounding the issue were already boiling over before the NPA lifted its unilateral ceasefire on 1 February. Duterte followed-suit two days later after a series of NPA attacks on Philippine troops, immediately terminating the government’s ceasefire and accusing the ‘terrorist’ rebels of ‘wanting another fifty years of war’.
Whilst unsatisfied demands for a prisoner amnesty served as the trigger for the breakdown of talks earlier this year, there are several more deeply-rooted factors which contributed to the failure of dialogue and restrict the chances of ending the insurgency should talks resume.
First, the factional nature of the NPA – with armed units present in almost every province across the Philippines – and a lack of centralized operational leadership, makes it difficult for the largely symbolic figureheads of the CPP and NDF, responsible for negotiating with the government, to control the activities of their fighters. Whilst a ceasefire is imposed from above, realities on the ground make it easy for violent clashes to occur in a local context. This often leads to further attacks and retaliatory violence, dealing a hammer blow to peace talks at the national level.
Second, a lack of trust exists between both sides. This makes progress difficult to sustain as firmly opposed positions have been reinforced over five decades of conflict. For example, as soon as the talks collapsed in February, both the government and CPP-NPA quickly reverted from making careful diplomatic overtures and returned to using divisive language describing each other as the ‘enemy’. As the months have passed, heated rhetoric has replaced the co-operative tones voiced last year, indicating the fragility of progressive dialogue and the difficulty of reversing long-held suspicions.
The only way of resolving the conflict without a peace accord being signed is to tackle the root causes of the insurgency, which would undermine recruitment and support for the NPA through improving the livelihoods of the Philippines’ rural poor. This approach alone however would take decades, and without an accompanying peace deal, may not end the violence in its entirety.
To prevent further internal strife, the government and the NPA have a strong imperative to return to the path of negotiation. Duterte is unpredictable, so his declaration that the peace process with the NPA is over does not necessarily signal the end of the road. If there is a lull in rebel attacks and conditions are deemed right, talks may be restarted in the near future.
After five decades of armed resistance, the cycle of conflict will be difficult to break; yet the revival of the peace process represents the only viable path forward. Unless momentum is regained soon, the Philippines’ long-running Maoist insurgency may prove intractable for another generation.
More than four decades after the last bomb fell from the skies above the remote and landlocked Southeast Asian nation of Laos, its countryside remains littered with deadly remnants from a conflict which long-ago faded into distant memory for many in the West. For the people of Laos however, the harmful impacts of the Vietnam War continue to reverberate deep into the 21st Century.
In recent years there has been a marked reduction in annual deaths and injuries – from more than 300 in 2008 to less than 50 last year – following an intensification of nationwide clearance efforts. However, this success in reducing the direct physical impacts of UXO must not blur the wider humanitarian legacy of the US bombing campaign in Laos: less than 2% of the total contaminated land area has been cleared, in a country which remains amongst the poorest in the region. In short, UXO serves as a major and debilitating impediment to Laos’ development.
Around 80 million cluster bomblets remain hidden in forests, submerged along river banks and buried in fertile soil. This extensive level of contamination renders large swathes of agricultural land unusable, denting crop production and worsening food insecurity. The presence of UXO also hampers construction: vast areas of land need to be painstakingly cleared before building work can begin, making infrastructure projects more dangerous, costly and time-consuming. The long-term injuries suffered by victims have also created a nationwide disability crisis, placing a huge burden on the country’s overstretched healthcare system and depriving many families of income.
These effects combine to harm social and economic development at both the local and national level, leaving many Laotians unable to escape a life of isolation, poverty and hardship.
Before assessing the impacts of UXO on development in more detail, it is essential to first trace the history of the UXO problem in Laos: from the Vietnam War and subsequent bombing campaign to the more recent clearance efforts of the last two decades.
The US bombing of Laos has long been overshadowed by the wider narrative of the Vietnam War, which began in 1955 and ended when Saigon fell twenty years later. The conflict was often viewed through the lens of the wider struggle between the two global superpowers of the Cold War era, when the US sought to contain the spread of communism through halting the ‘domino effect’ in Southeast Asia. In this context in the early 1960s, large numbers of US troops became engaged in an increasingly bloody and intractable ground war against the communist North Vietnamese.
By 1963, the war had spilled across Vietnam’s long and snaking western border. North Vietnamese troops began smuggling arms and equipment to south Vietnam along the Ho Chi Minh Trail; an overland supply route carved through the dense forests of neighbouring south-eastern Laos and eastern Cambodia. At the same time, Pathet Lao communist fighters were increasingly engaging in battles with the US-backed Royal Lao Army in northern Laos, further raising US concerns over the ‘domino effect’ in the region.
In December 1964, the US responded to these developments by launching what became the most extensive bombing campaign in history, aimed at disrupting activity along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Congress had not been consulted and for several years the US government denied the existence of the campaign, referring only to ‘reconnaissance flights’ over Laos. Over the next nine years Laos became the most heavily bombed country, per capita, in the world. In total, US aircraft flew more than 580,000 sorties and dropped more than two million tonnes of ordnance.
The true extent of the campaign only became public knowledge after a series of US Senate hearings in 1971, which first exposed the ‘Secret War’ in Laos. Over the decades, further details have emerged as state department documents have been declassified and US military strike records have been released. Despite an initial public outrage the suffering inflicted on Laos remained in the headlines for only a relatively short period of time. Four-and-a-half decades on, the affair has drifted from public consciousness and has been largely forgotten.
Most accidents are caused by direct impact. This can occur when agricultural workers dig the soil, when villagers attempt to move or defuse bombs themselves, and when children mistakenly play with cluster bomblets. The burgeoning scrap metal trade in Laos has also exacerbated the problem, leading many impoverished residents to take huge risks for a quick financial return.
The direct humanitarian impacts of UXO in Laos are slowly receding. In the past two decades, more than 1.4 million UXO items have been destroyed and more than 3 million people living in the most heavily-contaminated areas have attended risk education classes. UXO-Lao says that since 2010, UXO clearance has made possible the construction of 478 new schools, 78 water systems and 75 new roads. In addition, the rate of death and injury from UXO has been reduced by 86% since 2008, with the government now aiming to limit casualties to less than 40 per year.
These figures are encouraging, yet still more needs to be done to tackle the huge scale of the problem: it is worth remembering that less than 2% of contaminated land has been cleared. Taking time to consider this reality – that 98% of contaminated land remains littered with UXO – allows for further reflection on the potentially hidden, longer-term and more indirect implications of the US bombing campaign. In this sense, it must be asked: to what extent has UXO impacted Laos’ development?
Despite achieving annual GDP growth of above 8% in the last few years, Laos remains one of the poorest countries in Southeast Asia. In the latest version of the UN Human Development Index, Laos is ranked 138th out of 188 countries, with only Myanmar (145) and Cambodia (143) faring worse in the region. Whilst there are numerous factors determining a country’s level of development, it can be argued that in the case of Laos, UXO contamination plays a unique role in stunting progress.
The correlation between UXO and underdevelopment is most visible through the prism of poverty. According to the World Bank, 41.7% of people in Laos earn less than $3.10 per day, whilst 16.7% of the population earn less than $1.90 per day. This represents a higher proportion of people living below the poverty line compared to other Southeast Asian states. In addition to a high poverty rate at the national level, a growing divide is emerging between urban and rural areas. The UNDP reported that the poverty rate was three times higher for the 63% of Laos’ population whom reside in the countryside, where the UXO threat is greatest. In fact, the correlation between poverty and UXO contamination is stark, with 42 of the 46 poorest districts being in areas with widespread UXO presence. This trend is especially pronounced in remote mountainous areas where it is more difficult to conduct clearance operations, and along the border with Vietnam where bombing was heaviest.
The correlation between UXO contamination and poverty is clear, yet explaining exactly why the presence of UXO exacerbates poverty and worsens development outcomes is a more complex undertaking. In this sense, UXO contamination has negative implications in three broad areas which are vitally important to Laos’ development: agriculture, infrastructure and healthcare.
Firstly, UXO hampers agricultural production and worsens food insecurity. Even before the bombing campaign, Laos already found itself disadvantaged due to its rugged mountainous geography. Agricultural land accounts for only 10% of total land area, according to the Asian Development Bank (ADB). This is amongst the lowest in the region, and far less than neighbours Thailand (43%), Vietnam (36%) and Cambodia (33%). The presence of UXO across half of Laos’ arable land compounds these existing geographical disadvantages, meaning that only a small proportion of fertile land is able to be farmed. UXO has hit food production hard, leaving the country incapable of providing adequately for its burgeoning population, which now stands at 6.9 million.
Whilst it is true that geographical constraints have historically restricted agricultural development in Laos, it is equally undeniable that the widespread presence of UXO – rendering hundreds of square kilometres of farmland unusable – is a decisive factor in explaining the difficulties endured by Laotian farmers and the poor performance of the country’s agricultural economy.
Secondly, UXO acts as an impediment to the provision of critical infrastructure. Laos’ geographical features – notably its mountainous terrain, dense jungles and lack of coastline – unfortunately serve as natural barriers to construction and free-flowing trade, yet the presence of UXO again compounds these problems. As a landlocked nation, Laos depends on overland transportation to move goods around the country, yet UXO contamination makes the construction of transport routes more dangerous and time-consuming than almost anywhere else on the planet. Land must be extensively surveyed and painstakingly cleared before construction work can begin, lessening the incentive for foreign investment in infrastructure projects.
As a result of UXO, Laos is desperately lacking in adequate road and rail links, leaving vast areas of the country isolated and disconnected from the main urban centres of Vientiane and Luang Prabang. This makes it difficult for goods to be transported to and from the countryside, leaving many rural areas to sink deeper into poverty whilst the cities prosper.
Large construction projects also face considerable delays and extra costs as a result of UXO contamination. For example, construction of the 1,075-megawatt, 350-metre tall Nam Theun II Dam, completed in 2010, was only able to get underway after three years of prior UXO removal work costing almost $17 million. The Dam project provides just one example of the many instances where additional costs have been incurred to build on UXO-contaminated land.
Thirdly, UXO has placed a huge burden on the healthcare system in Laos. There are more than 12,000 survivors of UXO accidents across the country, most of whom have some degree of disability and will require support for the rest of their lives. The most common injuries sustained are the loss of a limb, blindness, hearing loss and shrapnel wounds. It is estimated that 40% of survivors require limb amputation, leading Laos to have one of the highest rates of disability globally. In the heavily-contaminated Xieng Khouang province alone, there are more than five-thousand disabled residents. The high amputation rate results from the majority of incidents occurring in remote, inaccessible areas, meaning that professional medical attention is often several hours away.
The strain placed on Laos’ fragile healthcare system is overbearing. Many facilities are ill-equipped to deal with the severity of injuries in the immediate aftermath of an accident; for example, blood transfusions are often not possible in rural clinics, meaning that blood loss, rather than the injury itself, is a leading cause of death amongst UXO victims. In the longer-term, survivors require years of physical rehabilitation, psychological counselling, and custom-made devices to replace missing limbs.
Survivors face difficulty in resuming their normal lives, and households are plunged into poverty as families become unable to rely on the productivity of the main breadwinner. Relatives are forced to give up work to help care for injured family members, whilst children often stop attending school and instead seek employment to replace lost income.
The poverty-inducing effects of blast injuries and the additional burden placed on health services exacerbates the negative impacts of UXO on development. A high rate of disability means a depleted workforce, whilst families are weighed down under the burden of care, leaving tens-of-thousands of Laotians unable to contribute towards economic growth.
In recent years the UXO problem has been addressed with greater urgency, alongside a growing recognition that UXO poses a threat to development. In September 2016, Laos’ Prime Minister Thongloun Sisoulith and then-UN Secretary General Ban Ki Moon inaugurated a new sustainable development goal for Laos, entitled Lives Safe from UXO: Remove the UXO Obstacle to National Development. This initiative – known as SDG18 – aims to further reduce casualties, address the needs of victims and clear the highest-risk areas by 2030.
Last year the government also announced plans to carry-out a nationwide UXO survey, aiming to produce a reliable estimate of contamination across the country by 2021. This will enable the most heavily-contaminated areas to be prioritized and facilitate closer co-ordination between UXO-Lao, international NGOs and private sector firms.
The most significant boost to clearance efforts however came last September, when then-US president Barack Obama announced a $90million funding package to be spread over the next three years, dwarfing previous US commitments. In a speech in Vientiane – during his historic first visit to Laos by a sitting US leader – President Obama acknowledged the harm inflicted by the bombing campaign, stating: ‘‘I believe the United States has a moral obligation to help Laos heal.’’
The successful visit followed a period of sustained engagement with Laos as part of the previous administration’s ‘pivot’ towards Asia, in which the US sought closer alliances with ASEAN member states as a counter to China’s growing influence in the region. However, Donald Trump does not appear to view Southeast Asia as such a high priority, prompting concerns over future UXO funding and raising questions over whether the US commitment to ‘‘help Laos heal’’ will be a long-term one.
Over the last two decades, steady progress has been made in tackling the UXO threat in Laos. The US has finally recognized the harmful legacy of the covert bombing campaign it conducted during the Vietnam War, which was overwhelmingly disproportionate in terms of its devastating long-term impact on civilians. In the last few years, greater engagement and funding has enabled clearance operations to move forward at a faster pace. In humanitarian terms, the recent intensification of clearance work has brought dramatic improvements: casualty numbers have reduced to an all-time low, and the majority of the rural population are now aware of the dangers posed by UXO.
Yet there remains an awfully long way to go. Four decades on from the US’ ‘Secret War’, its humanitarian legacy may be fading; but its developmental legacy persists. Despite recent economic growth, Laos still lags behind its neighbours and remains amongst the poorest nations in Southeast Asia. Given the painfully slow and careful nature of the work required to clear even the smallest area of land, UXO contamination will continue to pose a severe impediment to Laos’ development for decades to come. The widespread presence of UXO compounds the natural constraints imposed by Laos’ mountainous geography, denying it the opportunity to lift itself out of poverty and join Southeast Asia’s growing band of middle-income countries.
The ongoing experience of Laos serves as a painful reminder of the potential for conflicts to kill, maim and hold back development long after they have been consigned to the history books. Given the fact that only 2% of contaminated land has been made safe since clearance activities began more than 20 years ago, further international engagement and funding reassurances will be needed if there is to be a sustained, long-term effort to tackle the crippling legacy of UXO in Laos.
Over the last few years, maritime disputes in the contested waters of East Asia have made global headlines. In the South China Sea, China has faced opposition from Vietnam, Malaysia and the Philippines for its claims to sovereignty over the Paracel and Spratly Islands. In the East China Sea, relations have remained tense between China and Japan over the disputed Senkaku-Diaoyu islands.
Yet another long-standing maritime dispute in the region has continued to exist under-the-radar, and remains unresolved after more than six decades. The dispute concerns a collection of small islands located in the Sea of Japan – or the East Sea as it is known on the Korean peninsula. The contested islands are called the Dokdo Islands by South Korea, yet are known as the Takeshima Islands by the Japanese, and the Liancourt Rocks by many in the West.
The isolated maritime territory – consisting of two larger islands and more than thirty smaller features – is officially controlled by South Korea, yet is also claimed by Japan. The islands sit roughly half-way between the two countries, being located approximately 134 nautical miles from South Korea’s mainland, and around 155 miles from the Japanese coastline.
This article will seek to review the background context and current situation related to the long-running dispute over the Dokdo-Takeshima Islands, before assessing its impact on South Korean-Japanese bilateral relations and asking why the dispute has proved so difficult to resolve.
Both sides claim that their right to sovereignty over the islands stretches back hundreds of years, yet there is a significant degree of historical ambiguity to these claims. Instances of conflicting evidence make a clear and objective timeline of the disputes almost impossible to ascertain.
South Korea argues that the islands were first mentioned in historical literature from as long ago as 512-AD, whilst Japan argues that South Korea has failed to prove their control over the islands prior to their occupation by Japanese forces in 1905, several years prior to the Japanese colonization of the Korean peninsula. Japan’s Foreign Ministry has also stated that its claims originally date back to the mid-17th Century when the islands were used by Japanese sailors.
South Korea insists that the islands were rightfully handed back to the country following the 1951 Treaty of San Francisco, signed between the United States and Japan after the end of WWII. However, the islands had been omitted from the final text of the treaty, leading to confusion over which country was entitled to administer the territory. South Korea established formal administrative control over the islands in the mid-1950s – a move which Japan has described as an ‘illegal occupation’.
Today, the Dokdo-Takeshima islands remain administered by South Korea and the dispute has rumbled on at a relatively low level, albeit damaging bilateral relations between the two countries. South Korea has constructed a coast guard station on one of the two main islands, whilst on the other resides a Korean fisherman and his family – the territory’s only permanent residents.
There are several reasons why the dispute has proved so resistant to a resolution over the past six decades.
Firstly, nationalism remains a key factor on both sides, with the islands holding symbolic importance to both the South Korean and Japanese populations. Many South Korean’s see Japan’s unrelenting sovereignty claim as a neo-colonial attempt to retain a strategically-important territory acquired during Japan’s days as an imperial power. This aspect of the dispute is arguably the most sensitive, with many Koreans still feeling a sense of anger and humiliation over their country’s annexation by Japanese forces in 1910 and the lengthy occupation of the mainland which followed.
Nationalist sentiments have also been a feature of Japan’s continuing claim, with the southern Shimane Prefecture introducing an annual ‘Takeshima Day’ in 2005. In both countries, nationalistic feelings centred on historical animosity between the two regional powers have dominated thinking with regard to the dispute – resulting in occasional street protests by civilians and rhetorical flare-ups from political leaders in the aftermath of sensitive incidents.
Secondly, the dispute has proved even more intractable due to the economic and geo-strategic importance of the islands. The Dokdo-Takeshima islands are located in the middle of an important route for shipping and regional trade, and are surrounded by plentiful fish stocks. In addition, there is significant potential for the unexplored sea-bed around the islands to contain large amounts of oil and natural gas deposits.
Full political control over the islands would enable access to a 12-natuical mile Territorial Sea, along with a 200-nautical mile Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) stretching out from the coastline, under the terms of the 1982 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS). This international agreement has further entrenched the position of both sides – as has also been the case with claimants in other territorial disputes in the South and East China Seas – due to the potential for large rewards in terms of energy security and economic prosperity, as a result of preferential fishing rights and greater access to natural resources within the legally delimited zones.
Whilst the disputes have continued at a low level for the past six decades, recent years have witnessed several flare-ups and periods of increased friction. In 2012, tensions reached their highest point when Japan recalled its ambassador to Seoul, following a high-profile visit to the islands by then-South Korean President Lee Myung-bak – the first visit by an incumbent Korean leader.
Concerns have also been raised over the impact of the dispute on bilateral relations and security co-operation between the two countries – both of which are allies of the United States. This question is especially important given the rapidly escalating nuclear threat emanating from the hostile regime in North Korea, after it conducted a series of missile tests earlier this year in contravention of a UN ban. The successful management of this issue will require a unified response involving close cooperation between the United States and its regional allies. This provides a strong imperative for South Korea and Japan to put their long-running maritime dispute to one side, at least for now, and work more closely together to tackle a common threat.
At first glance, the dispute over the Dokdo-Takeshima Islands appears relatively minor in scale, especially when compared to the more complex maritime disputes underway in the East and South China Seas. However, the islands occupy a position of great national importance for many in both South Korea and Japan, a factor which provides a significant obstacle to resolution and has resulted in deeply-ingrained positions on both sides.
Whilst tensions occasionally rise to the surface, the dispute is not one which looks likely to result in military conflict any time soon. For now, with little sign of compromise or willingness to debate the issue of sovereignty on either side, the status-quo over the islands looks set to remain unchanged – especially whilst a serious threat to the entire region looms large on the horizon.
After more than four decades of division, recent peace talks between leaders on both sides of Cyprus’ infamous Green Line have led to a renewed sense of optimism, bringing fresh hope that the long-troubled eastern Mediterranean island could finally be reunified. Since 20 July 1974, Cyprus has been split across the middle, with a 180km-long UN buffer zone separating the Greek-Cypriot south from the Turkish-Cypriot north. Despite the failure of several previous attempts at resolution, there now appears to be a greater chance of success due to a growing political will – reinforced by firm commitments from the island’s leaders – to achieve reunification.
The current phase of negotiations between Greek-Cypriot President Nicos Anastasiades and Turkish-Cypriot President Mustafa Akinci began in May 2015, and significant progress has been made over the last two years. Recent media reports – as of January 2017 – have indicated that the talks are now entering the latter stages, with a final deal expected to be announced in the near future. However, whilst this apparent progress should be welcomed, it is important to apply a note of caution and avoid celebrating prematurely. As talks continue further into the year, it must be acknowledged that the issue of reunification is complex and fraught with many difficult and emotive issues, which will not simply be resolved overnight – irrespective of the outcome of the current discussions.
In order to better understand the complexity of the issues to be resolved, it is first necessary to return to to the roots of Cyprus’ division, and trace the key developments across four decades of a conflict which has remained frozen in time.
In the aftermath of WWII, Cyprus initially remained under British colonial control despite the desire of many Cypriots to unify the country with Greece. Cyprus, however, never came to be under Greek control. Instead, it became a sovereign nation after being granted full independence from Britain in 1960, on the basis of a power-sharing agreement between the Greek and Turkish populations resident on the island. The Greek-Cypriot community leader – Archbishop Makarios – became president, whilst it was determined that a Turkish-Cypriot should hold the position of vice president. The status-quo didn’t last long: in 1964, inter-communal clashes broke out after Makarios proposed constitutional changes which undermined the shared governmental structure, and the fragile system of power-sharing broke down. Following these events, the United Nations sent a peacekeeping force to patrol the Green Line, which by the mid-1960s had been set up to divide the Greek and Cypriot sectors of the island’s capital city, Nicosia.
Events gathered pace in the summer of 1974. First, Greece’s nationalist government deposed Greek-Cypriot leader Makarios in a military coup, in an attempt to move forward the process of unification between Cyprus and Greece. In response to the coup, Turkish troops invaded the shores of Northern Cyprus on 20 July, quickly advancing inland before stopping at the line of division which ran through the centre of Nicosia. From that day onwards, Cyprus has remained divided in two, with the Greek-Cypriot and Turkish-Cypriot communities partitioned by a heavily-guarded buffer zone.
In the four decades since – despite being split in two – Cyprus has remained largely at peace. The northern section of the country – named the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC) – declared independence in 1983, yet remains recognized only Turkey. Meanwhile, the southern part of the country became a member state of the European Union in 2004, whilst the local economy has grown and the tourism industry has flourished. The only reminders of the conflict are found in the buffer zone, which is up to 7 kilometres wide in places. The landscape within the prohibited zone remains exactly as it looked at the time of abandonment 1974, with the now-defunct Nicosia International Airport serving as a lasting physical symbol of the four-decade-long stalemate. Numerous towns and villages are effectively frozen in time, after their residents fled at the height of the conflict.
Today, Cyprus has more than 1 million inhabitants. Around 80% of the population are Greek-Cypriots living in the south, most of whom are Orthodox Christians; whilst 20% are Turkish-Cypriots living in the north, the majority of whom are Sunni Muslims. The internationally-recognized government of the Republic of Cyprus controls the southern two-thirds of the island, whilst the remaining one-third of territory north of the buffer zone is controlled by the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus.
All previous attempts to negotiate a resolution have failed, first in 1987, and more notably in 2004. As part of the 2004 attempt, then-UN Secretary General Kofi Annan put forward a proposal to make Cyprus a federation of two separately-administered states. The idea was the cause of much optimism at the time, but was ultimately rejected by Greek-Cypriots in a referendum – despite being accepted by the Turkish-majority population in the north. The rejection of the 2004 deal now serves a signal of just how difficult the dispute is to resolve, indicating how simmering tensions and a long-standing lack of trust between the two communities could stand in the way of future efforts.
In the decade since, however, there is a sense that the political atmosphere on the island has shifted markedly, allowing for a new-found sense of optimism which has enveloped the current round of negotiations. The island’s leaders – Greek-Cypriot Nicos Anastasiades and Turkish-Cypriot Mustafa Akinci – share a mutual commitment to pursue reunification, and appear to have more in common than previous generations of politicians on the island. When the talks first began in May 2015, both leaders enthusiastically promised to meet regularly, in order to maintain momentum and continue moving forward with the peace process. Towards the end of 2016, the negotiations – brokered in Switzerland by UN Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon – significantly gathered pace, leading to hopes that a settlement could be reached before the end of the year, and before Mr Ban’s term as UN head came to an end. However, despite significant progress in a number of areas, this deadline has now passed and intense discussions have continued into the new year.
In recent months, large sections of the mainstream media – particularly in the West – have often over-simplified the dispute, with the majority of reporting on the issue striking a triumphant tone and emphasizing that a resolution is close. However, this enthusiasm and positivity must be tempered by greater recognition that as the talks reach a critical stage, significant obstacles remain to be overcome, in a complex frozen conflict which has to this point proved intractable.
In particular, discussions on critical issues such as territorial realignment, land swaps, property returns and displaced persons will be highly emotive and fraught with difficulty. When the conflict was at its height in the 1960s and 1970s, around 200,000 people were displaced from their homes and driven from their businesses, many of which now lie unoccupied and in a state of ruin, abandonment and disrepair inside the buffer zone. Drawing up new boundaries, determining the control of territory, and deciding upon compensation payments and land returns will be pivotal issues in finding a resolution to the dispute, with both sides so far reportedly unable to reach agreement on difficult questions of this nature.
In addition, two wider issues remain unresolved, surrounding the questions of governance and security. Firstly, it must be determined what the new state of Cyprus should look like, and how it will be administered. Both sides are in broad agreement that the new state should be based on some kind of federal model, yet the extent of power-sharing and the exact nature of governance structures remain unclear. Secondly, the island’s security remains a core issue, which often stokes high emotions on both sides of the Green Line. For citizens in the south, the presence of 40,000 Turkish troops is often viewed as a threat, and to many constitutes an occupation; yet for citizens in the north, the continued Turkish military presence is seen as vital and offers significant reassurance to Turkish-Cypriots. These issues remain particularly contentious, and will require careful diplomacy and compromise on both sides. Finding such compromise, however, will not be easy: a high degree of opposition and scepticism remains in the south, whilst the northern side remains concerned over losing-out on issues of power-sharing and securing a rotating presidency. In any case, any proposed final peace settlement will need to gain the approval of local politicians, in addition to being deferred to the people of Cyprus in a nationwide referendum
With the peace negotiations being open-ended and having no set timetable, talk of an imminent end to Cyprus’ division is premature. The political will for reunification does exist, and there remains a strong chance that the talks will be successful, yet the issues are complex and positions deeply-ingrained – meaning that if a solution is to be found, significant compromise will be required on both sides of the Green Line. Even in the scenario where an agreement has been reached, approved and implemented, only time will tell if the two communities can live together in peace and harmony once the physical barrier has been removed.
If this best-case scenario – for so long desired by many Cypriots – does indeed materialize, then the benefits for the island in the coming years – particularly in terms of tourism and economic growth – could be huge. More importantly however, at a time when peace-making is failing miserably in other parts of the region (such as in Syria and Yemen, where attempts at peaceful resolution have given way to years of bloodshed and multiple external military interventions), the reunification of Cyprus would serve as a timely reminder of what concerted and determined diplomacy can achieve.
In the six years since a high-profile militant attack in Cabinda on the Togo football team gained global attention, the long-running insurgency in Angola’s isolated Cabinda province has once again drifted out of international headlines. The conflict and fight for independence – led by separatist group The Front for the Liberation of the State of Cabinda (FLEC) – was assumed until recently to have fizzled out, underpinned by the assumption that FLEC has been in a state of gradual long-term decline, with less than 200 active members and dramatically reduced fighting capabilities. However, a recent spate of attacks have followed FLEC’s pledge earlier this year to resume its armed campaign against the Luanda government, signalling a period of heightened intensity and demonstrating that the struggle for Cabinda is far from being over.
FLEC can best be described as a relatively small and fragmented insurgent group, who contest Angola’s ‘occupation’ of the territory and have fought for independence since the early 1960’s. The group first took up arms against the former colonial power, Portugal, before continuing their insurgency after Angola gained independence in 1975. Cabinda – a thin slice of territory situated between Congo-Brazzaville and the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) – is home to around 700,000 people, and as an exclave, is geographically isolated from the rest of Angola. The insurgency was at its strongest during the Angolan civil war, which ended with a peace deal in 2002 between the government and the main rebel group UNITA. The nationwide conflict allowed FLEC to exploit an atmosphere of chaos and disorder within the country, enabling it to run an effective campaign of guerrilla warfare which was successful in destabilizing the region.
At the end of the civil war, Angola’s newly-elected MPLA government launched a direct and sustained offensive against FLEC, severely degrading its military capabilities and sending its leaders fleeing into exile. During the 2000’s, the group’s presence significantly waned as it splintered into disparate factions, including FLEC-Posicao Militar (Military Position) led by an exiled leader in France, and FLEC-FAC (Armed Forces of Cabinda) – a larger and better-organized faction, which continued to wield considerable influence over the organization. In 2006, Angola’s government reached a controversial peace deal with one of the group’s factions, which was signed on behalf of FLEC by divisive figure Antonio Bento Bembe, who later joined the Luanda government. Bembe had little credibility amongst the majority of FLEC’s supporters, and as a result, the memorandum has been described by analysts as largely meaningless and ineffective. The peace deal served only to cause further divisions and frictions within the group, which has since fractionalized further and continued its insurgency, albeit at a low level of intensity such that it has barely registered with the outside world.
However, this widespread perception of FLEC’s diminishing power altered dramatically in January 2010, when separatists launched a surprise attack on the Togo football team’s bus, as it passed through Cabinda province for a match in that year’s African Cup of Nations tournament, which was hosted in Angola. The government and armed forces were drastically under-prepared and three people were killed by the rebels, drawing international attention to their struggle for independence and reminding the world of FLEC’s determination to pursue its cause. While a tragedy for the innocent people killed, the event sparked concerns at the time from analysts and human rights advocates that the government would launch a fresh crackdown on Cabinda, which had already been subjected to years of repression to compound its economic underdevelopment and high poverty rate. Prior to the attack, a 2009 report from Human Rights Watch had already raised concerns over arbitrary arrests, torture and inhumane treatment by Angolan security forces in Cabinda, carried out with impunity away from the scrutiny of international media spotlight.
Looking at Cabinda’s situation in the wider geopolitical context, a single most significant driving factor in its troubled history can be identified: oil. The presence of extensive energy resources in Cabinda is key to understanding its insurgency, along with providing an explanation for Angola’s desire to retain control of the province. Angola is amongst Africa’s largest producers of crude oil and has signed highly lucrative contracts with energy firms from the Unites States and China. It produces more than 1.75 million barrels of oil per day, of which approximately half is pumped from offshore fields off Cabinda’s Atlantic coastline – making the province a rich source of export earnings and providing an essential source revenue for the Luanda-based central government, which for this reason is unlikely to ever allow Cabinda to declare independence. Despite its resource-wealth, Cabinda remains Angola’s most impoverished region, with few benefits from the oil industry trickling down to local people. This causes much resentment amongst the region’s inhabitants, and continues to provide motivation for FLEC’s armed struggle against the state.
Since the attack on the Togo team bus, the insurgency has continued at a low-level, under the radar of western news outlets. However in February 2016, FLEC issued its most significant statement in years, declaring that it would resume its armed campaign after the government failed to respond to its request for talks. The press release stated that FLEC would once again adopt the ‘’military way’’ until the Luanda Administration agreed to a ‘’serious and concrete dialogue’’.
So far, FLEC appears to have stood by its tough rhetoric, evidenced by a spate of attacks throughout 2016. FLEC released a statement earlier this year to AFP news agency, saying that it staged two attacks in March resulting in the deaths of around 30 Angolan military personnel, including an ambush on 13 March in the northern town of Buco-Zau which killed 20 government troops. This was followed by an extremely rare incident in May, during which armed men claiming to be from FLEC boarded an offshore Chevron Gas Platform off the coast of Cabinda. According to witnesses, the group of 5 militants approached the rig on a speedboat, before boarding the platform and warning foreign energy industry workers that they should leave the province. Although no-one was harmed, this incident offers the most significant indication yet that FLEC possesses the level of capability necessary to target the country’s heavily-guarded energy installations. Since the altercation, the Angolan Navy have stepped-up patrols around the dozens of oil and gas rigs dotted along Cabinda’s coastline, whilst civil society activists have reported an increased military presence in the province.
Recent months have seen further reports of clashes between FLEC fighters and the Angolan armed forces. FLEC has claimed that 9 Angolan soldiers were killed and 14 wounded in clashes during July, in addition to another 12 troops killed during an ambush on 4 September in the Buco-Zau region close to the border with the DRC. However, it must be noted that Angola’s government has neither confirmed nor denied these reports, which are often difficult to independently verify due to the supposed location of the incidents in remote areas. Some analysts have indicated that the reported rise in violence could be attributed to the death of 88 year-old FLEC-FAC founder Nzita Henriques Tiago in Paris earlier this year. This theory suggests that the death of such a unifying figure has the potential to cause further splintering into sub-groups, which would then naturally seek to increase their influence by raising the intensity of their operations, which could provide an explanation for the increased level of separatist activity witnessed so far in 2016.
The renewed violence puts Cabinda’s plight back under the spotlight: it remains a geographically-isolated, underdeveloped and impoverished region, with its people receiving few benefits from the province’s substantial oil wealth. Some have even drawn parallels with the situation in the Niger Delta, where militants have long fought for greater control over resources from the central government and foreign-owned energy companies. Despite the reports of renewed clashes, the Angolan government maintains that FLEC poses no overall threat to stability in the region, with provincial Governor Aldina da Lamba Catembo confidently declaring that FLEC ‘’does not exist’’. However, recent events contest this assertion, and instead suggest that Cabinda’s five-decade old insurgency may be about to enter a period of heightened intensity.
In the wider context, the deteriorating situation in Cabinda is unfortunately not a one-off: instead, it serves as yet another reminder of the problems long-associated with the ‘resource curse’, which appears to remain prevalent across many states in Africa and across the developing world. Cabinda is therefore an example of how the resource curse can make already-complex territorial and nationality-based disputes worse: fuelling resentment, compounding failed attempts at development, and often giving rise to intractable conflicts.
Mali appears to be in a state of perpetual instability: a string of recent high-profile terrorist attacks has added to a picture of nationwide de-stabilization, amid continued fighting between numerous armed groups in the West African country’s fractured northern region. After a period of relative calm since last November’s attack on a hotel in Bamako which left 20 dead, renewed violence has broken out: in July, Tuareg fighters attacked an army base in Nampala, leaving 17 soldiers dead and 35 wounded. As a result, Mali’s lawmakers have now extended the state of emergency for an additional eight months, reflecting the worsening security situation in a country which has been plagued by conflict from multiple sources across the past five years.
Mali’s current wave of violence began in January 2012, when several insurgent groups launched a sustained campaign against the Malian government directed towards achieving independence or greater autonomy for the north, in an area known as Azawad. In March of that year, President Amadou Tourmani Toure was removed from office in a military coup, launched as a result of his poor handling of the ensuing crisis. In the power vacuum that followed, the National Movement for the Liberation of Azawad (MNLA) – a group fighting to forge an independent homeland for the Tuareg people – took control of large swathes of Northern Mali.
This event became known as the ‘Tuareg Rebellion’, which was fuelled by an influx of weapons to the Sahel region following the ousting of Libyan leader Colonel Muammar Gaddafi in 2011. The collapse of the Gaddafi regime left Libya to descend into a state of chaos and lawlessness; prompting many ethnic Tuareg’s living in the North African country to return home to the Sahel, becoming involved in the insurgency in Mali and other conflicts across West Africa.
The success of the Tuareg rebels however was short-lived: their rebellion was hijacked and their territorial gains were soon wiped-out by a collection of more extreme Islamist groups such as Ansar Dine and Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM). By the end of 2012, Islamist groups had taken-over large portions of territory encompassing more than 50% of Mali’s land area, imposing strict sharia law in areas under their control.
By January 2013 the situation had spiralled out of control, and Mali’s government asked for external assistance to re-take the north from the rebels. On 11th January the French military began operations against the Islamists, whilst on 23rd April the UN established the United Nations Multi-dimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali (MINUSMA), deploying 12,000 peacekeeping troops to Mali’s troubled northern region. In support of these engagements, the US established a drone based in Niger to provide intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance to France and its partners in fighting extremism. African Union (AU) Forces from the neighbouring states of Burkina Faso, Chad, Mauritania and Niger also played a role in combating the militants, fearing the spread of instability across borders and into the surrounding region.
By the end of 2013 the situation had stabilized: Mali had a new President, Ibrahim Boubacar Keita; whilst the government had regained the majority of Islamist-held territory, facilitated through the support of its international partners. In June 2013 a preliminary peace deal was signed between the government and Tuareg rebels; however many Islamist groups were not included and some of the original signatories later pulled-out of the agreement. The next two years saw the continuation of sporadic violence until a more meaningful ceasefire was signed between the major parties in Algeria in February 2015.
An initial hope that the deal would signal an end to the conflict proved to be unfulfilled. Fighting is still ongoing despite the continued presence of French troops and UN forces, whilst the number of terrorist attacks increased dramatically throughout 2015. In March, a gunman representing militant group Al-Mourabitoun killed five people in a gun attack on a restaurant in Bamako, whilst six MINUSMA soldiers were killed by members of AQIM in a roadside ambush near Goundam in July. In August, gunmen attacked a residential building housing UN sub-contractors resulting in the deaths of ten people, whilst in October six civilians were killed in a rocket attack on a UN convoy on-route to the northern city of Gao.
However, the most dramatic attack occurred in November 2015 when militants from AQIM and al-Mourabitoun attacked the Raddison Blu hotel in Bamako, in a well-coordinated gun assault. The militants took 120 hostages and killed 14 foreigners along with six Malians, before the siege could be brought to an end by security forces. The attack claimed international headlines, and for the first time focused global attention on Mali’s worsening predicament.
The Bamako hotel attack led many western policy-makers and media analysts to frame the instability in Mali in the context of the wider global picture of Islamic terrorism, linking the situation to the ideology of groups such as ISIS in Syria and Boko Haram in Nigeria. Others were keen to frame the situation in the national context in the form of a simplistic North-South divide, between the secular government in Bamako and Islamist militants fighting for an independent state in the north. In reality however, the roots of violence in Mali are far more complex, with a history of grievances and conflict stretching back over many years.
Firstly, there are no clear ‘sides’ which can be distinguished, as the various inter-locking conflicts consist of multiple actors with opposing, contrasting and contradictory aims. For example, over the last four years the MNLA umbrella grouping which originally led the 2012 insurgency has splintered into numerous groups and militias, including Ansar Dine and a number of smaller Islamist groups. In addition, AQIM and Al-Mourabitoun have grown in prominence and capability, whilst the Malian government is allied with external forces from France, the UN and several AU countries in combatting an increasingly diverse array of opponents. As a result, the Malian conflict can be described as multi-faceted with no clear narrative: it is more a collection of separate integrated conflicts which feed into an overall climate of instability, resulting in the de-stabilization of the country and the fracturing of society.
Secondly, a history of economic underdevelopment goes a long way towards explaining the repeated patterns of violence which have plagued the region. For many ordinary people in the north, sympathy for rebel groups is fuelled by more basic and instinctive considerations than adherence to an ideology of independence or Islamism. A high youth unemployment rate, along with lack of access to vital services such as education and healthcare, has culminated in widespread discontent with the central government in Bamako. The UN Office for the Co-ordination of Humanitarian Affairs (UNOCHA) estimates that 1.5 million people in Mali are threatened by food insecurity, whilst 150,000 have been made refugees and another 90,000 internally displaced by the conflict. Discontent has also been heightened by the government’s failure to address corruption; leading many Malian’s to grow tired of the country’s poor governance and unequal society. Many across the north feel that the region has been neglected by the Bamako elite, culminating in a strong sense of frustration and resentment which fuels jihadist recruitment.
Thirdly, climate-induced environmental stresses are an exacerbating factor, adding to the multiple political and economic drivers of an already-complex conflict. In recent decades drought has become more frequent, whilst average rainfall in northern Mali has dropped by 30% since 1998 according to a study by the US Strategic Studies Institute. The UN Food and Agriculture Organization (UNAO) estimates that more than 270,000 people here face starvation, with more than 660,000 children in need of food aid in order to survive. Looking further into the future, the Sahara desert is predicted to expand southward at a rate of 48km per year. This could force nomadic herding communities to migrate into lands historically occupied by other groups, fuelling resource-based tensions and resulting in an increased frequency of inter-communal conflicts in the Sahel region.
Such a dire scenario fits in with long-held predictions from researchers that climate change has the potential to worsen conflict in the world’s poorest regions, leading groups to take up arms to fight over increasingly scarce resources. In the already-complicated conflict landscape of northern Mali, there is a clear potential for environmental stresses to exacerbate poverty, fuelling grievances and providing further motivation for deprived individuals to join rebel groups in a region which has long been neglected and has few economic opportunities.
Overall, the conflict in Mali cannot be defined through any simple narrative: it is not a clearly-demarcated battle between north and south; and neither does it fit squarely into the wider global picture of ISIS-inspired Islamist extremism. Instead, the conflict in Mali is complex: it has numerous causes and drivers, and is typified by multiple actors fighting for territory, resources and ideology in an under-developed region which offers few alternatives or opportunities. Therefore there is no simple solution: whilst substantial diplomatic engagements and co-ordinated multi-state military operations may have the effect of temporarily lessening conflict and creating a momentary illusion of stability, the repetitive cycles of deprivation and conflict will only be ended once the underlying issues are tackled over the long-term.
Amidst the chaos of its surrounding region, Lebanon has been an anchor of relative stability in the Middle East over the past few years. However, recent developments suggest the upheaval is finally beginning to take its toll on a state which is showing increasing signs of fragility under the strain of overwhelming internal and external pressures. The devastating civil war in neighbouring Syria has worsened the existing political deadlock in Lebanon, which has left the country of 4.5 million people without a President for more than two years. More worrying than the lack of an elected government figurehead, is that the political vacuum is leading to economic stagnation, and contributing to a rise in sectarian tensions 26 years after the end of Lebanon’s own civil war.
The current political situation has been steadily worsening since President Suleiman’s term in office came to an end in May 2014. Since then, political paralysis has gripped the country as Lebanon’s power-brokers have failed to reach consensus or find a way forward. In a nation of more than 18 predominant religious groups, it may come as little surprise that a collective agreement has been difficult to reach. The political system put in place in Lebanon after the end of the civil war is based on the principle of power-sharing, and dictates that the President must be a Maronite Christian and the Prime Minister must be a Sunni Muslim, whilst the Parliament Speaker must be Shia.
Sectarian divisions have played a prominent role in the political stagnation, with the parliament being unable to elect a president – despite attempting to do so on more than 40 occasions – primarily due to resistance from Hezbollah and its allies in Lebanese politics. To fill the void, Prime Minister Tammam Salam has operated as the country’s de-facto leader for the last two years, taking up the role of ‘Acting President’ whilst the current situation remains unresolved. Over that period, Lebanon’s infrastructure and public services have rapidly deteriorated, with the government unable to provide basic services such as refuge collection for 6 months up until March this year. Economic activity has also suffered greatly: exports have decreased, whilst national debt and the government deficit have risen sharply, with the situation unlikely to improve as long as there remains no new national election on the horizon.
The current crisis is not just a result of divisions within the current legislature, but also a product of Lebanon’s complex historical domestic politics and the wider regional context. For decades, Lebanon has been viewed as the site of a ‘proxy war’ between two regional powerhouses: Saudi Arabia (which along with the other Gulf States, has been a supporter of Lebanon’s Sunni political movement); and Iran (a supporter of Hezbollah and the wider Shia population). Whilst this divide has long been a feature of Lebanon’s domestic politics, tensions were heightened significantly after the 2005 assassination of former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, in a bomb attack in the capital, Beirut, which has repeatedly been blamed on Hezbollah.
Hariri’s death led to mass street demonstrations across Lebanon which became known as the ‘Cedar Revolution’. The protests resulted in the complete withdrawal of Syrian forces from Lebanese territory, and the establishment of an international tribunal to investigate Hariri’s assassination. In the immediate aftermath, Lebanon’s political parties effectively split into two competing camps: the 8th March Coalition, which is largely Shia and pro-Iranian; and the 14th March Coalition, which is predominantly Sunni and has the support of Saudi Arabia. The upheaval after Hariri’s death retains a lasting legacy today, visible in the partial polarization of Lebanese society and the division which still characterizes its domestic politics.
The ongoing five-year-old civil war in neighbouring Syria has further complicated the situation. Hezbollah – which can be labelled as both a political party and militant organization, and is also designated as a terrorist group by the United States – has become deeply involved in the conflict, supporting the regime of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad. More than 1,200 Hezbollah fighters have been killed in Syria since the start of the conflict, including their commander Mustafa Badreddine who was killed in an explosion in Damascus earlier this year. Hezbollah’s involvement, along with Russian air support for the Assad regime, may have helped push the threat from ISIS further away from Lebanon’s border; however there have also been negative consequences in the form of retaliatory terrorist attacks on Lebanon’s soil. The deadliest atrocity came on 12th November 2015, when ISIS launched a double suicide bomb attack in Beirut, killing 43 civilians and injuring more than 200 people.
Lebanon is also struggling to cope with the unprecedented number of refugees crossing its borders. In addition to 500,000 Palestinian refugees, an additional 1.6 million refugees from Syria have streamed across the border over the last five years, fleeing the violence of ISIS and numerous other militant groups. The overwhelming number of new arrivals – which now make-up more than 1/3 of Lebanon’s total population – has put significant strain on Lebanon’s crippling infrastructure, whilst adding to the existing problems of high unemployment, poverty and limited service provision. Amidst division in Europe over how to handle the refugee crisis, Lebanon, along with Jordan, is struggling under the burden of accommodating the highest per-capita concentration of refugees anywhere in the world.
In light of the upheaval in the Middle East and North Africa over the past few years – particularly in Syria, Iraq, Yemen, Libya and Egypt – Lebanon has served as an example of stability and relative peace. Despite the recent strain from unprecedented internal and external pressures, Lebanon is still remarkably managing to hold itself together as a functioning sovereign state, amidst nations which appear to be splintering into pieces. However, facing the pressures of an expanded population and sectarian divisions whilst still experiencing continuing political deadlock, the country may not be able to cope for much longer. The United Nations Security Council recently expressed concerns over the ‘’security, economic, social and humanitarian challenges’’ facing Lebanon, and called on all Lebanese political leaders to put ‘’stability and national interests ahead of partisan politics.’’ If the political impasse can soon be ended and a new President put in place to unite the country, there remains a chance for Lebanon to avoid the large-scale violence which has engulfed its neighbours, and continue to serve as an example of stability and pluralism at the heart of the Middle East.
Since gaining independence from Belgium in 1960, the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) has experienced decades of almost continuous conflict. Africa’s largest country, with a burgeoning population of more than 79 million people, has arguably been the site of the deadliest war in the post-WW2 era: a brutal conflict which has taken place beyond the view of the western news media; remaining far from the eyes of western publics and politicians. Despite more than 6 million civilians killed and millions more displaced, the neglect of the DRC’s devastation has been striking: there have been few front-page headlines, and even fewer calls for intervention in a country deemed strategically unimportant to western powers.
Since the most deadly period of the conflict ended with a peace agreement in 2003, low-intensity violence has continued in the East of the country largely un-noticed by the outside world, barring a few brief moments of heightened publicity such as the ‘Kony 2012’ social media campaign, and after the 2013 military defeat of the notorious M23 rebel group. At present, the risk of escalation and a return to full-scale conflict is higher than at any time in recent memory, as the country is fast becoming engulfed in political instability.
The renewed fears of violence come amid concerns that President Joseph Kabila, who has won two previous elections and been in office since 2001, is attempting to cling to power despite a two-term constitutional limit on the length of time a president can serve. In May, opposition leader Moise Katumbi was charged with plotting a coup against the incumbent regime, just hours after he declared his intention to run as a candidate in November’s presidential election.
The situation is creating an increasingly hostile political environment within the country, with critics accusing President Kabila of seeking to delay the vote in an attempt to remain in power whilst the constitution is amended. National Assembly member Olivier Kamitatu Etsu has accessed Kabila of ‘’deliberately sabotaging the electoral process’’. However the President has consistently denied this, with the DRC’s Ambassador to the United States, Francois Balumuene, stating that Kabila remains committed to holding free and fair elections. In May, the country’s highest court ruled that Kabila should stay in power until elections are held, and the government has claimed that the poll is simply being delayed whilst logistical issues are resolved and the electoral register is updated. The division amongst the political elite is already causing tensions amongst the general population, leading to fears of renewed violence based on political affiliation. There were reports of clashes between police and Katumbi supporters at several of his rallies earlier this year, with tear gas being fired on at least one occasion.
The current political environment is especially concerning when considering the DRC’s continuing violence and perpetual climate of instability. An estimated 70 armed groups are believed to be currently active in the East of the country, despite the presence of 19,000 UN peacekeepers. In particular, the stronger armed groups such as the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (FDLR) and the Ugandan Allied Democratic Forces (ADF) continue to terrorize civilians and retain control of rural areas characterized by weak state presence. Millions of civilians have been forced to flee the violence: the UN estimates that there are currently 2.7 million people internally displaced, along with another 450,000 refugees who now reside in neighbouring countries.
The violence in the East of the country is worsening, as armed groups increase in number 13 years on from the end of the ‘Second Congo War’ which lasted from 1998-2003. During the main stage of the conflict, Congolese government forces backed by troops from Angola, Namibia and Zimbabwe fought rebels supported by Uganda and Rwanda. Five million people were killed during this period alone, until a peace deal was signed in 2003 and a transitional government ushered in. Despite these developments, the war-ravaged country has been plagued by frail governance, weak institutional presence, pervasive corruption and widespread absence of the rule of law. The government did achieve a notable success in 2013, when the largest rebel group M23 was defeated and removed from a key provincial capital, Goma. However, the many remaining rebel groups have splintered further, leading to a more complex situation and a climate of lawlessness in which ordinary civilians have been subjected to rape, sexual violence, extreme poverty and horrific human rights violations.
In hindsight, 2003 offered only a brief flicker of hope for a country reeling from decades of war. The Democratic Republic of Congo has since descended into further chaos: it has resisted all internal and external efforts to set it on a path towards peace, and has become an increasingly complex web of inter-related and over-lapping local conflicts. Remnants of the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) persist in some parts of the country, whilst Bakata separatists operate in Katanga province; numerous other rebel groups are active in Maniema and Nyunzu. The extensive number of armed groups adds to an increasingly complex and volatile picture of a country which even after billions of dollars in development aid and the largest UN peacekeeping mission in history, remains incapable of providing even the most basic requirement for citizens of a functioning sovereign state: security. A combination of impunity and continuing economic stagnation, have led to the emergence of yet more armed groups, making the DRC an increasingly fragmented and ungovernable space.
Whilst western attention has remained almost exclusively focused on the civil war in Syria – where over 250,000 civilians have been killed during five years of devastation – the victims of the DRC’s long-running conflict have been comparably neglected when considering the scope of the violence: decades of upheaval with more than 6 million people killed, and hundreds-of-thousands more raped, tortured and maimed. In addition, the DRC remains one of the world’s poorest countries, ranked at 176 on the UN’s Human Development Index (HDI). Since the war officially ended in 2003, starvation and disease have claimed millions more lives, whilst living standards and health provision have plummeted in many communities still trapped in cycles of violence.
Some analysts contend that the conflict in the DRC is ‘too complicated’ to be taken-up by mainstream news organizations and presented to western audiences, with a distinct lack of the simple ‘good vs evil’ narrative which is often prevalent in western news reporting. For example, in the DRC there is no single ‘aggressor’ to whom blame can be predominantly assigned, such as was the case with Gaddafi in Libya or Saddam Hussein in Iraq. However, given the sheer scale of violence in the DRC, there must also be alternative underlying factors which account for the distinct lack of media coverage: for example, sub-Saharan Africa is viewed as being of little strategic importance to the west, whilst stereotypical assumptions of Africa as a space of uncivilized barbarism remain prevalent in many dominant discourses, leading to the complex roots of diverse conflicts across an entire continent being downplayed and under-examined.
This continued media invisibility is especially concerning given the most recent developments in the DRC. Firstly, presidential candidate Moise Katumbi was sentenced in June to 3 years in prison on charges which the opposition contends were fabricated and politically-motivated. Secondly, despite renewed calls for dialogue between political parties to ensure a peaceful electoral process, President Kabila has refused to say if he will step-down (as is constitutionally required), and is yet to confirm that the general election will go ahead as scheduled in November.
The main concern amongst observers is that if the current political instability worsens, the complex web of local conflicts in the DRC could be set to rapidly intensify, leading to violence on a nationwide scale in the event of an election-related crisis. This worst-case scenario has not yet materialized and may still be avoided; however if a wave of political violence does spread across the country, Africa’s deadliest civil war could re-emerge to inflict mass suffering on civilians, whose predicament will again remain largely invisible to an outside world focused on developments elsewhere.
When Metrojet flight 9268 was blown out of the sky over the Sinai Peninsula in October last year, the world was alerted to the creeping Islamist insurgency in Egypt’s remote north-eastern corner. In the seven months since the deadly bombing in which 224 people lost their lives, the IS-affiliated militant group which claimed responsibility for the attack – Wilayat Sinai (Sinai Province) – has further enhanced their ambitions and capabilities, prompting greater attention from concerned international observers. The rapid growth of the group, which now has an estimated 1,500 fighters and access to more sophisticated weaponry, signals the latest development in an increasingly worrying regional picture, in which conflicts are spiralling out of control and jihadist ideology is spreading to unstable areas. Whilst Islamic State (IS) have recently lost ground in their strongholds of Syria and Iraq, their affiliate branches in Libya and Egypt continue to grow in strength, with Sinai in particular being targeted as a new base in recent IS propaganda videos – signalling a potential shift in focus towards North Africa.
However, despite recent developments, the presence of militants in the Sinai Peninsula is nothing new. The region has a long and troubled history of instability and jihadist violence, which can be traced back through time to uncover how Wilayat Sinai has been able to establish itself as an emerging IS stronghold, at the crossroads of North Africa and the Middle East.
The current developments must be placed firstly within the Sinai’s geographical context: as a remote desert area, it is far from the control of the central government in Cairo, and has long been characterized by weak state presence and a climate of lawlessness. Secondly, it must be placed within a firm historical context: as a slice of territory located at the heart of one of the world’s most volatile and unstable regions, which has been fought over for decades.
In 1967, the Sinai Peninsula was captured by Israel during the six-day war, and was held until the Camp David Accords in 1978 led to a peace agreement between Israel and Egypt, facilitating the eventual withdrawal of Israeli forces by 1982. In their place, a peacekeeping force made up of troops from 12 countries became permanently positioned in the area. Known as the ‘Multinational Force and Observers’, the role of the mission was to monitor the terms of the treaty and ensure that peace prevailed. A period of relative stability followed, during which Egypt’s former strongman president Hosni Mubarak oversaw the region’s transformation throughout the 1980’s and 1990’s, with coastal towns such as Sharm el-Sheikh becoming popular holiday destinations for western travellers, as the tourist industry boomed and revitalized the flagging local economy.
Despite these economic successes along the coast, many of the indigenous Bedouin people of the Sinai felt isolated from the rest of the country: marginalized from the political process, denied access to the region’s natural resources, and excluded from the economic benefits of the thriving tourism industry. Whilst the coastal tourist resorts were made to feel safe for western visitors through the maintenance of a high security presence, the areas of Sinai to the north became increasingly unstable and lawless: smuggling routes flourished as state presence remained weak, with weapons being transported in tunnels under the border from the neighbouring Gaza Strip.
In the 1990’s, the area became a breeding ground for terrorists: individuals would travel to the Sinai to receive combat and arms training, before carrying-out attacks in other parts of Egypt. A group which shared the violent ideology of Al-Qaeda – Tawhid wal-Jihad – soon emerged after several factions united under a larger movement, and came to prominence in the early 2000’s. By 2004, the Sinai was no-longer just a training ground, but the site of deadly incidents: the group conducted a suicide attack on the resort town of Taba, killing more than 30 people. The following year, larger-scale attacks followed, when 88 people were killed in a series of car bombings in Sharm el-Sheikh during July 2005. The attacks were unprecedented in scale: they spread fear through the coastal towns and decimated the tourist industry, shattering the livelihoods of many locals and drawing international condemnation.
After the spate of attacks, the government of Hosni Mubarak cracked-down hard. Many of the militant group’s leaders were killed in gun battles with the security forces, whilst many more suspected terrorists were sentenced to jail. For the time being, the insurgency was supressed and the tourism industry recovered. However, the radical ideology of Tawhid wal-Jihad and Al-Qaeda did not disappear, and the groups served as an inspiration for future jihadism: many former members joined forces to form Ansar Bayat al-Maqdis – a group which would later transform into Sinai Province. The springboard which launched this new wave of terrorism was initiated in 2011: as the Arab Spring revolutions swept across the Middle East at lightening pace, the Sinai Peninsula experienced some of the most severe uprisings. It’s location in the far north-west of Egypt, led to an increasingly lawless scenario as the state did not possess the necessary resources to exercise full control; this fed into an atmosphere of instability and once-again made the Sinai a hotspot for terrorist recruitment.
Over the next five years, Ansar Bayat al-Maqdis became the most active and dangerous insurgent group in Egypt, carrying out regular attacks in northern Sinai, and even some in the capital, Cairo. In November 2014, the militant organization changed its name to Sinai Province and pledged allegiance to IS, stating a desire to be governed as part of a proposed caliphate extending across the Middle East and North Africa. From this point onwards, attacks increased in scale and complexity, signalling closer co-operation with IS leadership and the possession of more advanced weaponry. The Egyptian army has been the primary target of attacks, particularly since the removal of Islamist President Mohammed Morsi and the banning of the Muslim Brotherhood in 2013. In January 2014 the group shot down an Egyptian military helicopter in an audacious attack with a ground-launched missile, likely to have been smuggled from Libya; this came just one month after a large-scale attack on a security compound in the northern town of Dakahliya, in which 15 people were killed and more than 100 injured.
The military-led government of President Abdul Fattah al-Sisi placed the region under a ‘State of Emergency’ in October 2014, after 33 security personnel were killed in an attack claimed by the group. At the border with the Gaza Strip, the authorities effectively created a ‘buffer zone’ in an attempt to prevent the smuggling of weapons, through demolishing houses and digging a trench to make access to the border more difficult. In September last year, the government announced a large-scale campaign to crack-down on the insurgency, targeting buildings in the towns of Rafah, Arish and Sheikh Zuweid. However, attacks have continued, with suicide bombings, drive-by shootings and assassinations becoming a regular occurrence. There have been unverified reports that the group has targeted Egyptian naval vessels in the Mediterranean, with missiles fired from the shore. If Sinai Province does indeed possess this capability, it would be an especially worrying development given the central importance of the region to commercial shipping. The October 2015 downing of the Metrojet flight was the largest signal yet of the group’s intent; an attack for which it claimed responsibility, and indicated was in retaliation for Russian airstrikes against Islamic State in Syria. The same month, smaller-scale attacks were carried out at sensitive tourist sites, near the Pyramids at Giza and the Karnak Temple in Luxor, indicating the intention of Sinai Province to spread fear, damage the tourist industry, and inflict the maximum level of harm upon President Sisi’s government.
The pervasiveness and tactical adaptability of Sinai Province in the face the recent military crackdown, is an especially worrying development for Egypt’s security officials and outside observers. The presence of IS in the Sinai Peninsula is becoming an increasing concern, especially after IS recently launched an extensive media and propaganda campaign, aimed at increasing recruitment in Egypt. In the wider context, the main concern from the international community is that IS attempting a deliberate reorientation towards North Africa, as its territory in Syria and Iraq comes under increasing pressure. There is significant evidence to support this claim: Sinai Province appears to be increasing its recruitment and growing in strength; Libya has long been courted as a ‘second base’ for the jihadists, following the upheaval and chaos which followed the removal of Colonel Gaddafi in 2011; whilst Tunisia is the leading source of foreign fighters to IS, and has itself been the site of devastating terrorist attacks in the capital Tunis and the beach resort of Sousse.
Overall, the emergence of Sinai Province serves as a painful reminder that ISIS is no-longer confined within the borders of Syria and Iraq. Its ideology and violent tactics have the potential to take root in numerous areas across the Middle East, with similar characteristics to the Sinai Peninsula: areas with a troubled history of instability, marginalization and weak state presence; providing the ideal conditions for terrorism to flourish.