GLOBAL DIALOGUE Volume 7 ● Number 1–2 ● Winter/Spring 2005—Humanitarian Intervention

Humanitarian Intervention: Elite and Critical Perspectives

RICHARD FALK

Richard Falk is Albert G. Milbank Professor of International Law Emeritus, Princeton University, and Visiting Professor in Global Studies at the University of California, Santa Barbara.

any developments account for the intensity of the recent debate concerning humanitarian intervention: the rise of humanitarian consciousness reinforced by an evolving sense of international accountability for political leaders; a post-Westphalian realisation that ideas about territorial sovereignty need to be reconsidered in light of the various dimensions of globalisation; suspicions that dominant countries, especially the United States and its coalition partners, are using humanitarian pretexts to pursue otherwise unacceptable geopolitical goals and to evade the non-intervention norm and legal prohibitions on the use of international force; a series of high-profile instances (including Somalia, Bosnia, Rwanda, Kosovo, Darfur–Sudan) in which controversy arose about whether the international community was unacceptably doing too little or too much about a severe humanitarian emergency; and the post-hoc rationalisation of the Iraq War as allegedly justified on humanitarian grounds, rescuing the Iraqi people from tyranny, despite the absence of any prior authorisation by the United Nations Security Council and the opposition of world public opinion. Additionally, the contextualisation of global security in relation to the American-led struggle against mega-terrorism tends to erode claims of sovereignty on the part of states seen as havens for anti-Western political extremism, but also gives rise to normative explanations of this erosion as achieving humanitarian benefits (e.g., liberating women from an oppressive Taliban regime in Afghanistan).

This series of developments has stimulated two sets of responses pertaining to the legal, ethical, and political status of humanitarian intervention: a statist response highlighted by reports of commissions composed of eminent persons; and a civil society response highlighted by case-by-case advocacy and criticism of action and inaction by the international community, and by various expressions of suspicion directed at self-serving accounts of motives on the part of intervening actors, particularly the United States, with its claimed right to initiate wars in pursuit of its security without obtaining “a permission slip” from the United Nations (a phrase first used by President George W. Bush in his January 2004 State of the Union address to Congress). It is not possible, especially in light of the Iraq War, to disentangle the US government’s claim of right to wage pre-emptive war from the diplomacy of the last decade or so associated with humanitarian intervention. The inhibitions on intergovernmental initiatives or on bodies constituted by “eminent persons”, that is, persons prominently associated with governmental and intergovernmental careers, are such that they can address these issues only indirectly if at all.¹ This leaves the delicate task of disentangling geopolitics from humanitarianism to independent critical voices of opinion in global civil society.

The Intervention Quandary

What makes this subject matter challenging from a normative perspective of law and ethics is that it is beneficial neither to give a green light to all interventionist diplomacy that proclaims humanitarian goals, nor to make absolute the norm of non-intervention by posting a red light that altogether prohibits humanitarian encroachments on sovereignty. What seems appropriate is the yellow light of caution, recognising both the danger of allowing intervention to proceed under the humanitarian banner, and the corresponding danger of insisting on non-intervention despite the existence of a humanitarian emergency.

Such a cautious approach would seem to depend on an administering role for the United Nations, especially the Security Council. A precondition for a valid instance of humanitarian intervention is some explicit prior authorisation by the Security Council. But suppose it is not forthcoming despite a severe, unfolding humanitarian catastrophe? Can the UN General Assembly or a regional organisation play a residual authorising role? Can a coalition of the willing? Or in an extreme case of unfolding genocide or massive crimes against humanity would there not be a tacit approval regionally and globally that amounted to authorisation, or at least acquiescence?

This was the case when India entered East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) in 1971 to stop Pakistani atrocities, Vietnam entered Cambodia in 1978 to end the reign of terror by the Khmer Rouge, and Tanzania entered Uganda in 1979 to depose the Idi Amin dictatorship. Each of these examples involved an intervention by a neighbouring country which seemed to act on the basis of strategic interests, but also appeared to be motivated by genuine humanitarian concerns. Such a setting—mingling self-interest with humanitarianism—arouses suspicions about the true intentions of the intervention, but if a humanitarian catastrophe really is unfolding, it also should strengthen confidence that the intervention will be effective. In effect, realist incentives reinforce the humanitarian rationale for violating sovereign rights. To assess whether this rationale is but a pretext for intervention, consideration should also be given to factors such as whether the intervening state withdraws shortly after the humanitarian emergency has ended, whether it insists on establishing strategic bases and a long-term military presence in the target country, or whether it shows respect for the latter’s right of self-determination.

To grasp the contours of the contemporary debate, as a prelude to recommending an approach, the next two sections will consider, first, the perspectives of the official bodies appointed to set forth guidelines and resolve conceptual and doctrinal tensions; and second, the less consensual civil society perspectives that reflect the spectrum of views on how to balance deference to sovereign rights and concerns about geopolitical manipulations against the moral imperative to prevent or mitigate an unfolding humanitarian catastrophe caused by political developments as distinct from natural disasters.

The issue is complicated legally by the disposition in 1945 to reassure states joining the United Nations that the new organisation would not intervene in matters “essentially within domestic jurisdiction” (Article 2.7 of the UN Charter), a provision widely understood to encompass abuses of a citizenry by its own government and even instances of civil strife and insurgency. Obviously, if the United Nations was denied the right to intervene, then states and regional actors had no such legal authority to use non-defensive force for such a purpose. Article 51 of the UN Charter creates an exception to the prohibition on recourse to force, but only with respect to preserving the right of self-defence, and then appearing to limit this right to occasions where the state invoking self-defence has experienced a prior attack. In effect, humanitarian intervention appeared to be outlawed by the UN Charter as initially drafted.

But the charter is a constitutional document that evolves as community values change and patterns of practice shape new understandings of the balance between the Westphalian autonomy of states and the global governance role of the international community. Integral to this shift in the direction of interventionist authority has been the unexpected rise of international human rights, and supportive notions and institutions of implementation, accountability, and even enforcement. The establishment in 2002 of the International Criminal Court is an institutional milestone in this process, although how far it will be able to realise its promise is uncertain, especially as it currently faces implacable opposition from the United States.

Official Bodies

The Kosovo War of 1999 was undertaken by NATO in reaction to an unfolding scenario of acute human rights violations, a massive exodus of refugees, and a plausible prospect of ethnic cleansing. The Albanian 90 per cent majority population of Kosovo seemed at the mercy of the Serb minority, and given the then recent experience of the war in Bosnia, culminating in the 1995 Srebrenica massacre of about seven thousand Muslim males, it seemed reasonable to insist on humanitarian intervention despite the absence of support from permanent members of the UN Security Council. NATO did represent the leading countries in Europe, but it was not a true regional organisation, and in any event lacked authority to engage in any kind of enforcement action without Security Council approval. Also present were undisclosed strategic motivations, such as a desire to demonstrate NATO’s credibility in the aftermath of the Cold War, and possibly to show that the United States would continue to provide leadership on European security despite the absence of any external threat.

The Kosovo Commission

It was this combination of circumstances that generated a highly visible debate about whether the Kosovo War should be regarded as a positive precedent for humanitarian intervention. (I leave aside legal and moral criticisms of the war relating to the tactical reliance on high-altitude bombing, and the failure of occupying forces to avoid reverse ethnic cleansing and other abuses of the Serb minority, especially immediately following the cessation of hostilities.) On the one side, was concern about setting a precedent that allowed recourse to war outside the scope of the right of self-defence and in the absence of a mandate to intervene from the United Nations. On the other side, was the moral and political desirability of acting effectively in the face of a humanitarian emergency, confirmed by a welcoming population and the rapid return of most of the Kosovo Albanian refugees. Shortly after the war, an “Independent International Commission on Kosovo” was established by the Swedish government, acting in consultation with the UN Secretary-General, to address these issues, as well as to consider the future of Kosovo.

The basic effort of the Kosovo Commission, which issued its report in 2000, was to offer an approach to addressing the doctrinal tension identified above. The report suggested, first of all, that the Kosovo War was “legitimate, although illegal”. In effect, this meant an acceptance of the argument that a humanitarian emergency existed, making it morally and politically justified, and hence legitimate, to intervene militarily to protect the vulnerable Kosovar population. At the same time, the intervention was illegal because it involved a non-defensive use of international force that had not been authorised in advance by the United Nations.²

This circumstance of “legitimate, although illegal” was acknowledged to be confusing and unfortunate, but it seemed highly unlikely in the near future that the United Nations would formally revise its conceptions on the legality of force so as to overcome this tension. And yet it also seemed important for the international community to act in the face of an unfolding humanitarian emergency as it had in Kosovo.

One viewpoint that gained some attention at the time was to pronounce the law of the UN Charter to be essentially obsolete, and to leave the decision to intervene, as in Kosovo, to coalitions of the willing. Such an assessment, in effect, prematurely gives up on the charter effort to prohibit non-defensive wars of choice, a viewpoint that would exempt the invasion and subsequent occupation of Iraq from legal condemnation as a war of aggression. This “adjustment” unnecessarily concedes too much ground to geopolitical opportunism.

An alternative adjustment would involve the suspension of the veto enjoyed by permanent members of the Security Council, either by formal arrangement or informal patterns of practice, in instances of humanitarian emergency of the Kosovo or Darfur variety. This adjustment would be beneficial, and would have enabled the Kosovo intervention to receive Security Council authorisation, circumventing the expected vetoes of China and Russia. This adjustment is not politically acceptable at present as the trade-off between sovereignty and humanitarianism is understood and interpreted differently by permanent members of the Security Council. At play are not only differing degrees of attachment to sovereign rights, but the suspicion that humanitarian claims are often pretexts for the pursuit of grand strategy by hegemonic actors, including pursuit of imperial ambitions. In effect, diminishing the relevance of the veto is also an unlikely adjustment under present world conditions.

Slightly less unlikely would be the evolution of a practice that allowed authorisation to come from the UN General Assembly in those instances where a positive recommendation of humanitarian intervention was blocked solely because of negative votes by one or two permanent members with veto powers.

The Kosovo Commission, acknowledging these difficulties, sought to endow the legitimate-but-illegal approach with a principled framework that would test a claim of legitimacy. The commission’s report sets forth eleven principles, divided into threshold principles and contextual principles that determine whether and to what extent the contention of legitimacy associated with the intervention is persuasive. There are three threshold principles, the first of which is that there are two sets of triggering circumstances: acute violations of human rights or of international humanitarian law; and state failure that exposes a population to mass suffering. The other two threshold principles insist that the intervention be undertaken for “the direct benefit of the victimised population” and that the method of intervention must be “reasonably calculated” to end the catastrophe as rapidly as possible and in a manner that protects civilians as a whole.

There are eight further contextual principles: war must be the last resort; efforts to gain UN authorisation must be undertaken; efforts to resolve the conflict peacefully must be undertaken; some degree of multilateralism must guide the whole process; there should not exist a formal censure of the proposed intervention by either the Security Council or the International Court of Justice; the laws of war must be strictly upheld; the intervening states should obtain no territorial or economic rewards, and should show a readiness to withdraw as soon as normalcy is restored; and sufficient resources should be made available in the post-conflict phases to facilitate economic, social, and political reconstruction.

Such a checklist of principles is meant to provide guidelines for policy and appraisal, and is obviously subject to wide variations of interpretation in specific circumstances. Whether such considerations help to identify occasions for legitimate intervention and to shape its implementation remains to be seen. Of course, as inaction in response to the unfolding and deepening humanitarian crisis in Sudan’s Darfur region illustrates, as Rwanda did in 1994, no matter how legitimate the case for humanitarian intervention, without political will on the part of those actors with the capacity to intervene an effective international response will not be forthcoming. Paradoxically, it is one of the shadows cast upon claims of legitimacy—namely, the presence of strategic motives alongside humanitarian considerations—that makes it more likely that effective action will be taken only in situations where the moral and political case for humanitarian intervention is reinforced by strategic incentives. In this sense, vulnerable peoples exposed to abuse and state failure in sub-Saharan Africa are not nearly as likely to be protected by an international initiative as those being victimised in regions that enjoy high geopolitical priorities.

ICISS

A similar although distinctive tack on interventionist diplomacy was taken by the Canadian initiative that led to the establishment of the International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (ICISS), which issued an influential report in 2001 under the title of The Responsibility to Protect. The report seeks to circumvent the controversy surrounding humanitarian intervention partly by adopting a different language, and shifting the locus of inquiry from the victimised population to the role of the international community in such circumstances. In this spirit, it abandons the terminology of “humanitarian intervention” as unnecessarily provocative in so frontally posing issues of sovereign rights and the use of force by the most powerful states. The aim is that by substituting the language of responsibility and protection, hot-button issues associated with interventionist diplomacy, evoking many bad memories of colonialism, can be circumvented, or at least mitigated.

The Responsibility to Protect frames the undertaking by reference to four basic objectives:

● to establish clearer rules, procedures and criteria for determining whether, when and how to intervene;

● to establish the legitimacy of military intervention when necessary and after all other approaches have failed;

● to ensure that military intervention, when it occurs, is carried out only for the purposes proposed, is effective, and is undertaken with proper concern to minimize the human costs and institutional damage that will result; and

● to help eliminate, where possible, the causes of conflict while enhancing the prospects for durable and sustainable peace.³

As with the Kosovo Commission’s eleven principles, these objectives of ICISS seem intended as guides to policy and assessment rather than as reinforcements of the red lines of international law. The engagement of national and international responsibility is inevitably related to political will, which is itself shaped by strategic interests, public opinion, media attention, and short-term memories of success and failure associated with prior interventions. In the 1990s, the perceived failure of the US-led mission in Somalia contributed significantly to the refusal to support UN action in Rwanda, despite the transparency of the genocidal dangers. This refusal reflected both the absence of strategic interests in sub-Saharan Africa perceived by the dominant states and the realisation that intervention could be costly in lives and resources. In contrast, Kosovo in 1999 generated the combination of an American sense of strategic stakes, a shift of tactics to diminish the risk of casualties for the intervening side, memories of impotence arising from the feeble role of the United Nations in Bosnia a few years earlier, and the impulse to show that a regional military alliance, NATO, was far more effective as an intervening actor than the United Nations had been.

ICISS was also intent on suggesting that responsibility be substituted for rights when it comes to the understanding of sovereignty, rendering a state that fails to protect its citizenry “irresponsible” and no longer entitled to unqualified deference. Such a rhetorical move is explained as necessary to incorporate the rise of human rights and to support the then emergent perspective on security that involved thinking less about that of the state (national security) and more about that of people (human security). The report also urges that the main organs of the United Nations take steps to endorse this approach and to act accordingly, seeking to shape the political climate of opinion by formalising at intergovernmental and institutional level the consensus reached by the commission, which was composed of eminent persons representative of the world as whole, many of whom had enjoyed prominent careers in the governments of their respective countries.

The UN’s High-Level Panel

The ICISS report attracted considerable attention when issued, partly because of the energy of ICISS’s co-chair, Gareth Evans, former foreign minister of Australia, and partly because it made a successful effort to find a less threatening, yet sensible and clear, way to discuss humanitarian intervention. Its approach has been adopted by the report of the UN Secretary-General’s High-Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change, A More Secure World, issued with considerable fanfare in November 2004. Two elements may be highlighted. The first is the explicit abridgement of the non-intervention norm:

The principle of non-intervention in internal affairs cannot be used to protect genocidal acts or other atrocities, such as large-scale violations of international humanitarian law or large-scale ethnic cleansing, which can properly be considered a threat to international security and as such provoke action by the Security Council.⁴

A More Secure World recommends against any effort to alter the language of the UN Charter to accommodate this approach, contending that it is unnecessary and probably not politically feasible.

The second element is the claim that sovereignty is no longer operative as a shield for oppressive governments. The report suggests that “successive humanitarian disasters” in Somalia, Bosnia, Rwanda, Kosovo, and Darfur “have concentrated attention not on the immunities of sovereign Governments but their responsibilities, both to their own people and to the wider international community”.⁵ In this regard, “responsibility” has a dual face, upwards to impose duties of protection on the organised international community, and downwards to confirm obligations of territorial governance on the sovereign state. Of course, given the nature of international society, as well as its normative framework, major states are essentially exempted from such obligations, being too large to be held accountable.

Shortcomings

These developments await further incidents to determine whether their impact is mainly on the style of diplomatic language or whether they also affect behavioural patterns of response. What is excluded in these inquiries by credible individuals is the relevance, some would say the dominance, of geopolitics that seems crucial to the formation of political will, which in turn determines whether there is a strong prospect of an effective effort to insist on responsible behaviour by governments and the United Nations. The effects on the global policy agenda of the 11 September 2001 attacks, the dithering response to Darfur, and the apparent hostility of the current US leadership to “humanitarian” nation-building (as contrasted with its enormous efforts in pursuit of strategic goals in Afghanistan and Iraq), combine to give the impression that humanitarian concerns and an ethos of human solidarity do not enjoy strong support from leading governments. Whether the epic natural disaster caused by the South Asian tsunami of December 2004 will result in a more hopeful picture of the extent of humanitarian concerns remains to be seen. From a realist perspective, the appeal of responding to a natural disaster is that costs and risks can be fixed with relative certainty in advance, and no loss of life on the intervening side is likely. It is also worth noting that the list of “humanitarian disasters” in the UN High-Level report mentions neither Afghanistan nor Iraq, despite the efforts of the United States, especially in Iraq, to justify its use of force after the fact by reference to the undoubtedly oppressive conditions existing in both countries prior to the US interventions there.

What is also missing, owing to the eminence of the membership of these elite bodies, which tend towards a concern with the credibility of their findings and recommendations in mainstream intergovernmental circles, is any kind of critical bite. There is a reluctance to name names, whether of states or individuals, and an unwillingness to address the distorting selectivity of geopolitics or to discuss the hidden motivations of the parties. The UN High-Level Panel went further than usual, perhaps too far as regards institutional etiquette, when it included in its report a somewhat disguised criticism of US pretensions to provide for global security: “There is little evident international acceptance of the idea of security being best preserved by a balance of power, or by any single—even benignly motivated—superpower.”⁶ To find less veiled criticism or more ardent support for humanitarian intervention one must turn to civil society perspectives, especially those shaped by independent scholars who benefit from academic freedom. Conversely, those academic voices associated with think tanks and the like tend to reproduce the views of the blue-ribbon commissions, or even more narrowly, to tailor their recommendations to the viewpoints held by current power-wielders or their own major donors.

Civil Society Perspectives

Mainstream Moralists

Throughout the extensive literature on humanitarian intervention, almost all of it written by scholars living in the countries that do the intervening, either directly or through the agency of international institutions, there is encountered a self-serving, moralistic rhetoric and tone. Michael Walzer has long served as a leading exponent of geopolitically conservative moralistic advocacy, including with respect to humanitarian intervention. In this spirit he writes, “Whenever the filthy work can be stopped, it should be stopped. And if not by us, the supposedly decent people of this world, then by whom?”⁷

Another stalwart mainstream moralist, Michael Ignatieff, who is even more explicitly supportive than Walzer of the moral claims of the leading political actors in the current world order, holds that criticism should be mostly directed at the reluctance to intervene, rather than at the supposedly incidental harm done by intervention.⁸

Such views by independent scholars provide invaluable aid and comfort to the United States and the former colonial powers, casting them in the role of moral saviours of peoples trapped in barbaric circumstances. What such apologists for imperial prerogatives uniformly ignore is the historical record of cruel criminality on the part of these self-appointed, post-colonial guardians of world order. They also ignore the latter’s post-intervention record of irresponsible withdrawal or engagement with exploitative forms of reconstruction that ensure strategic control and economic benefits by way of lucrative investment contracts.

Critical Voices

Fortunately, the balance sheet on humanitarian intervention has been redrawn recently by several scholars who write from a critical perspective.⁹ Anne Orford’s Reading Humanitarian Intervention is a major contribution along these lines.¹⁰ She effectively demonstrates the extent to which the perils of the present for societies experiencing humanitarian catastrophes are directly attributable to the legacy of colonial rule. The brunt of her trenchant analysis of humanitarian intervention focuses on the harm done to the society that is supposedly being helped to recover from atrocious circumstances, contending that this harm is neither collateral nor peripheral to the rescue operations. Orford shows that in the name of reconstruction, a capitalist set of constraints is imposed on a broken society that impairs its right of self-determination and prevents its leadership from adopting an approach to development that benefits the people of the country rather than makes foreign investors happy. The essence of her position is that “legal narratives” justifying humanitarian intervention have had the primary effect of sustaining “an unjust and exploitative status quo” (p. 11).

The deepest criticism of humanitarian intervention as legal narrative is that it operates to revalidate violence by the strong and dominant against the weak and subordinate. In Orford’s provocative words,

the international community shares something with those fantasized others against which it constitutes itself. It shares a commitment to the wounding and excluding of marked others as its founding act. This fact helps to explain the vehemence with which those who identify with the international community come to disavow the leaders of “rogue” or “failed” national or tribal communities as less than human. This disavowal is necessary precisely because these communities in fact share that which the international community rejects as illegitimate: an originary violence deployed against those marked out on the grounds of race, ethnicity and gender. The attempts to disavow this lead to more violence. (P. 68)

Orford urges that rather than accepting explanations of state failure and abuse based on ethnic tensions, extremist religion, and micro-nationalist and tribal rivalries, attention be devoted to the strains imposed by the brutalising submission of labour and inequitable distribution of resources brought about by the disciplinary influence of neo-liberal capitalism. The further contention here is that legal narratives of development and material progress, even human rights, are relied upon to mask unjust structural divisions based on class, gender, and race that are being deliberately perpetuated by power-wielders, assisted in this dirty work at every stage by international lawyers.

Again, it is useful to reflect upon Orford’s carefully chosen words: “The imperial desire to know and to access ‘other’ peoples and territories is transformed through the practice of international law into a sense of expertise and authorization to speak about those who can be constructed as in need of ‘our’ help” (p. 79). Such an analysis encourages us to explore the hidden infrastructure of violent undertakings that proclaim their humanitarian credentials. This hidden infrastructure of economic and strategic self-interest manifests itself in a number of ways: by abandoning a society in shambles once the strategic objective of the intervener has been achieved (for example, Afghanistan in 1989); by sustaining an occupation without investing sufficiently in reconstruction (Bosnia since 1995, Kosovo since 1999); by seeking to establish strategic bases and economic privileges in a ravaged society (Iraq, 2003); and by imposing a new leadership and a capitalist developmental template on the occupied country, thereby obstructing the right of self-determination and setting the stage for future political violence (almost every country that has been the site of humanitarian intervention since 1990).

All of this contributes to sustaining a sort of “collective day-dream”, as Edward Said describes the Orientalist process of visioning the other, which in the setting of humanitarian intervention allows the exploitative dominant side to preserve the illusion of moral distance between itself and evil out there at a remove. By so doing, Orford argues, the intervening states, or their constructed “international community”, represent themselves by contrasting images arising from being “sovereign, civilized, autonomous, powerful and humane” (p. 204). Such thinking as Orford’s is definitely a needed corrective to patterns of naïve and uncritical liberal advocacy that have dominated mainstream discussions of humanitarian diplomacy, but does it go too far? When writing and speaking from the margins it is generally necessary to exaggerate to be heard at all, but then supercilious voices from the centre respond knowingly that the criticism is “polemical”, “utopian”, and “irresponsible”. At a minimum, it is important to listen carefully to criticism from the margins, and then decide whether to correct for exaggeration.

Orford recognises the anguishing dilemma posed by the choice between inhumane action and inhumane inaction, specifically in the face of the terrifying 1999 crisis in East Timor when the Indonesian military engaged in and fomented massacres of a helpless civilian society that had been brutally colonised for the previous twenty-four years. Her point is that narrowing the issue to such a choice between action and inaction distorts the challenge facing analyst and advocate alike. Instead of evolving rationalisations for humanitarian intervention at the boiling point, it should be the work of international lawyers to point to the deforming legacies of colonial rule and hegemonic aspirations, and even more so to suggest alternative paths to development that will avoid the onset of catastrophe for a society and to shape post-catastrophe reconstruction in ways that produce a just and sustainable social, political, and economic order. The lens of intervention, pro or contra, is too narrow to encompass the relevant terrain for a genuine humanitarian undertaking.

A parallel critique of conventional understandings of humanitarian intervention is offered by Ikechi Mgbeoji with specific reference to sub-Saharan Africa, focusing on Liberia as a case that illuminates a far wider pattern of instability afflicting the post-colonial destiny of much of the continent.¹¹ Mgbeoji locates the source of contemporary African troubles in the crude colonialist machinations of European states, culminating in the carving up of African natural communities into a series of artificial colonies at the 1884–5 Berlin Conference. This resulted in a dynamic of emergence from the colonial experience with artificial polities that were vulnerable to disruption and had populations unprepared for the exercise of constructive leadership. Mgbeoji also attributes blame to the kind of opportunistic African elites that took power in so many of these countries, often with the connivance of the former colonial overlords, disclosing an overall pattern of co-responsibility:

I argue that the corrosion of the African psyche and the mutilation of precolonial African political structures laid the basis for the modern crises afflicting the continent. Beyond the pernicious legacy of European imperialism coupled with myopic, selfish, and impoverished leadership of the African elite, it seems clear that the solution to African political instability lies in a structural rearrangement of the African polity for the purpose of legitimate governance of African peoples. (P. 1)

In sum, the boundaries of the post-colonial state should not be treated as sacrosanct, especially when their effect is to bisect communities of solidarity. Mgbeoji shows how much the tragedy of Liberia is a product of this heritage of artificial boundaries that disregard the ethnic and tribal contours of peoples. Unlike Orford, he gives less significance to predatory capitalism, except as a by-product of this unholy alliance between the colonialist background and a corrupt indigenous foreground. But like Orford, Mgbeoji repudiates the moralistic aura of Western interventionist diplomacy that purports to be an antidote to African primitiveness and barbarism.

Mgbeoji is worried about the loosening of the bonds of international law in African initiatives designed to address humanitarian catastrophes. He is not very positive about entrusting African regional actors with peacekeeping missions unsupervised by the United Nations, citing the troubling experience of Liberia to bolster a wider argument. In the end, Mgbeoji believes that so long as the underlying conditions in Africa are based on artificial ideas of statehood, humanitarian catastrophes will recur, and interventionist undertakings, even if properly guided, can do no more than provide temporary relief to a beleaguered society.

Overcoming this circumstance of what he calls “collective insecurity” will require a much more comprehensive approach that gets at the roots of conflict and hostility: “the practice of a holistic concept of collective security and distributive social justice secured by legitimate state boundaries and good governance is the antidote to the civil conflicts ravaging the continent” (p. 142). Mgbeoji makes it clear that part of the problem is the international practice of associating legitimate governance with control of the capital city by the leader and with an electoral process that often has only ritualistic significance, thereby circumventing the more fundamental sources of legitimacy that lie in genuine political loyalty by the people and a corresponding commitment by the leadership to achieve social justice for the totality of the society. Such goals cannot be realised within the parameters of present African statehood, giving Mgbeoji’s argument a certain utopian edge, despite the power of his compelling assessment of the African situation, which includes the judgement that a fire-fighting mentality about the continent’s underlying crisis is totally inadequate.

Concluding Observations

The subject matter of humanitarian intervention has been foregrounded by the rise of the issue of human rights in a globalising world. At the same time, the practice of rescuing populations raises a variety of proximate concerns associated with justification and effectiveness. It also raises more fundamental concerns associated with the causal onset of humanitarian emergencies and the impact of reconstructive efforts. There are two sets of responses that have been noted: the first comes from those who represent the established order, and seek to reconcile a sensitivity to the rights of independent states with actions designed to bring relief and rescue to peoples entrapped within oppressive or anarchic circumstances. These perspectives seek to make humanitarian intervention acceptable and operational, revising international law along the way, but without questioning underlying conditions or the motives of the interveners.

The second set of responses comes from critics of the established order who regard humanitarian intervention as a hypocritical exercise in post-colonial imperialism that not only fails to address basic issues generative of mass suffering, but may aggravate and intensify such suffering by diverting attention from real causes and available cures.

This whole setting of debate has been complicated by the 11 September attacks on the United States, and the American response that has fused a new generation of real concerns about domestic security with a militarist push for global dominance by a Western power. In this latter context, as seen in Iraq since the US invasion of 2003, the humanitarian intervention argument is invoked as a cover for aggressive warfare and a prolonged hostile occupation. At the same time, the massive humanitarian catastrophe festering in Darfur has evoked widespread concern internationally, but only minimalist protective action, again confirming that where strategic interests are weak, the necessary political will for protective action will not be forthcoming, no matter how grave and massive the unfolding tragedy and no matter how the intervention is sanitised by the language of protection. Rwanda redux.

The way forward is to proceed on complementary lines. Despite the difficulties and ambiguities of practice, it remains beneficial to counsel effective action in response to instances of ethnic cleansing, genocide, and crimes against humanity. It may be feasible to bring into being a volunteer, professional capability under the auspices of the United Nations that would be entrusted with the implementation of humanitarian diplomacy with reduced geopolitical interference. At the same time, it is essential to disseminate beyond academic circles the sorts of critical perspective developed so powerfully by Orford and Mgbeoji, widening the orbit of understanding to encompass the causes of humanitarian catastrophe and the effects of both humanitarian intervention and adherence to the norm of non-intervention.

Endnotes

1. For discussion of the political constraints on such international commissions, see Richard Falk, “Liberalism at the Global Level: Solidarity vs. Cooperation”, in The Globalization of Liberalism, ed. Eivind Hovden and Edward Keene (New York: Palgrave, 2002), pp. 75–98.

2. See Independent International Commission on Kosovo, The Kosovo Report: Conflict, International Response, Lessons Learned (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000).

3. ICISS, The Responsibility to Protect (Ottawa: International Development Research Centre, 2001), p. 11, para. 2.3. ICISS also sets forth its own set of guidelines that resembles in most respects the eleven principles listed by the Kosovo Report, and that borrows from the language and approach used in the just war tradition: see pp. xii–xiii.

4. High-Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change, A More Secure World: Our Shared Responsibility (United Nations, 2004), p. 65, para. 200.

5. Ibid., para. 201.

6. Ibid., p. 62, para. 186. The scepticism relating to balance of power appears to be an elliptical repudiation of the realist approach to world order, and when combined with the rejection of hegemonic or imperial geopolitics appears to imply support for a norm-based, UN-centred approach.

7. Michael Walzer, Arguing about War (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2004), p. 81.

8. Michael Ignatieff, “The Burden”, New York Times Magazine, 5 January 2003, pp. 22–7, 50–4.

9. As with so much critical writing in international relations, Noam Chomsky has authored the seminal text repudiating the humanitarian claims of the United States. See Chomsky, The New Military Humanism: Lessons from Kosovo (Monroe, Maine: Common Courage Press, 1999).

10. Anne Orford, Reading Humanitarian Intervention: Human Rights and the Use of Force in International Law (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003).

11. Ikechi Mgbeoji, Collective Insecurity: The Liberian Crisis, Unilateralism, and Global Order (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2003).