The second group of essays in this part of the volume provides a historical overview of humanitarian intervention - the nonconsensual use of outside military force on humanitarian grounds - since the founding of the United Nations (UN) in 1945. The definition of "humanitarian" refers to the threat or occurrence of large scale loss of life (including, most obviously, genocide), forced migration, and abuses of human rights. The specific cases have been selected where a humanitarian justification was actually employed by the intervening states or where the intervention resulted in clearly beneficial impacts on humanitarian conditions in the target state. Military force applied at the request of a target state is not "intervention"; it is not unwanted interference in state sovereignty, because states have the right to seek outside military assistance. Thus, when genuine consent is present, a request to defend state sovereignty is legitimate and not considered unacceptable interference in domestic politics.
In each case, information is included on the nature of the crisis and the subsequent events on the ground, pertinent developments at the Security Council and in regional bodies, the justifications employed by the intervening forces, and the views of other states. The latter are particularly significant, for the evidence of the legitimacy or illegitimacy in behaviour resides in the claims and counterclaims of states as they debate the propriety of various interventions.
Essay 4, Interventions Before 1990, is an overview of interventions in the post-1945 period, from the birth of the UN Charter regime to the end of the Cold War. Considerable attention is given to the three cases from this period that are widely cited - East Pakistan, Cambodia, and Uganda - but seven others are also examined. Although in retrospect these three cases are often invoked as evidence of the norm of humanitarian intervention, on balance they were carried out by single states that justified them on grounds of self-defence. At the end of this period, most commentators argued that no such norm existed or that it was so contentious that it was necessary to justify intervention on other grounds.
Essay 5, Interventions After the Cold War, focuses on interventions after 1990. The post-Cold War era has not changed everything. There are strong similarities between the challenges posed by the Congo in the early 1960s and in 2001. The armed conflict was internal and civilians constituted the overwhelming majority of casualties. However, the political context of the 1990s certainly has altered the prospects for intrusions into what had formerly been considered the more protected domain of sovereign states - to conduct domestic policy as they pleased. During this period, the balance in the UN Charter between state sovereignty and human rights has been tipped so that the latter occasionally assumes the same or more importance than the claims of states.
In looking toward the future, these cases illuminate emerging trends in the use of coercive measures to address humanitarian needs. The willingness of outside actors (military and civilian, governmental and intergovernmental and nongovernmental), as well as the resources devoted to aiding and protecting severely affected local populations, have increased dramatically. Not only has the use of the ultimate tool of coercion, military force, increased in the last decade, but other nonconsensual interventions as well. Economic sanctions and arms embargoes, along with international criminal prosecutions, have been commonly employed over the past decade.
In contrast to the cases of humanitarian intervention during the Cold War, the cases examined from the 1990s are remarkable for their legitimacy. The Security Council was seized by each case and made decisions about coercion; the conscious-shocking and truly humanitarian dimensions of each case were more central to international actions; and military responses were more multilateral.
The cases are covered relatively briefly. There is much more to be said about all of them. References have been included to assist future research, but for those seeking further information, the cases in the 1990s and the three main ones from the 1970s are covered in the Bibliography.
The purpose here is to survey the episodes of nonconsensual military interventions that were conducted for claimed humanitarian purposes or that resulted in clear humanitarianbenefits during the Cold War period, 1945-1989. There is substantial evidence in these cases about why controversy surrounds what constitutes an actual incidence of "humanitarian" intervention. Sometimes this qualifying adjective provides a smoke screen for other foreign policy objectives; sometimes humanitarian motives are present but not primary; and sometimes the adjective is not used at all, but the humanitarian impact is undeniable.
Ten cases of military intervention are discussed: Belgium in the Congo (1960); Belgium and the United States (US) in Stanleyville (1964); the US in the Dominican Republic (1965); India in East Pakistan (1971); France and Belgium in Shaba province (1978); Vietnam in Cambodia (1978); Tanzania in Uganda (1979); France in Central Africa (1979); the US and certain Caribbean countries in Grenada (1983); and the US in Panama (1989).1
The Congo declared independence from Belgium on June 30, 1960.2 However, because of the immediate breakdown of law and order, national celebration was short-lived. On July 4, troops of the Congolese Army mutinied, and chaos spread throughout the country. Congolese and foreign civilians were murdered, others were beaten, and women were raped. "During the night of July 7-8 alone, more than 1,300 women and children, mostly Belgians, fled in panic across the Congo River to Brazzaville."3 On July 10, Belgian battalions left their barracks in the Belgian bases at Kitona and Kamina and took control of a number of Congolese cities to restore order; and more troops were flown in from Belgium.
On July 11 Moise Kapenda Tshombe, the prime minister of mineral-rich Katanga province, declared Katangese independence. Two days later, Congolese President Joseph Kasavubu and Prime Minister Patrice Lumumba sent a joint telegram to UN Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjöld, appealing for United Nations (UN) assistance and accusing Belgium of aggression, fomenting secession in the province of Katanga, and "colonialist machinations."4 Invoking Charter Article 99, Hammarskjöld requested an urgent meeting of the Security Council, which met later that day.
The Belgian intervention was harshly condemned by Congolese authorities and throughout Africa. Belgium was accused of having instigated the army mutiny and Tshombe's revolt. Belgium's opposition to Congolese independence and the precipitous manner in which it had withdrawn the colonial administration and infrastructure prior to independence had seriously destabilized the fledgling country. Many saw the events that followed as an effort by Belgium to provoke a crisis and create a pretext to reassert control and authority.
On July 11 Moise Kapenda Tshombe, the prime minister of mineral-rich Katanga province, declared Katangese independence. Two days later, Congolese President Joseph Kasavubu and Prime Minister Patrice Lumumba sent a joint telegram to UN Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjöld, appealing for United Nations (UN) assistance and accusing Belgium of aggression, fomenting secession in the province of Katanga, and "colonialist machinations."4 Invoking Charter Article 99, Hammarskjöld requested an urgent meeting of the Security Council, which met later that day.
The Belgian intervention was harshly condemned by Congolese authorities and throughout Africa. Belgium was accused of having instigated the army mutiny and Tshombe's revolt. Belgium's opposition to Congolese independence and the precipitous manner in which it had withdrawn the colonial administration and infrastructure prior to independence had seriously destabilized the fledgling country. Many saw the events that followed as an effort by Belgium to provoke a crisis and create a pretext to reassert control and authority.
Before the Security Council, Belgium argued that it had intervened because of the complete breakdown of law and order and the compelling need to protect life generally, asserting a broad claim to intervene on humanitarian grounds:
Under such circumstances, Belgium claimed that it was under a "sacred duty to take the measures required by morality and by public international law."6 Later statements emphasized Belgium's right to protect its own nationals, rather than a more general right to intervene for humanitarian purposes. The next day, the Belgian representative stated: "I should like to make our present position clear. We sent troops; they intervened to the extent necessary to fulfil our sacred duty to protect the lives and honour of our nationals."7
In the Cold War environment of the 1960s, Belgium's actions were strongly supported by its North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) allies. The most emphatic defender was France, arguing that "in many instances the Belgian troops have alone been able to protect lives and property" and that "their mission of protecting lives and property" was in accordance "with a recognized principle of international law, namely intervention on humanitarian grounds."8 Britain observed that the Belgian effort was directed at facilitating "the withdrawal of Belgian nationals [and] of other communities threatened with violence" and that the Belgian troops had performed a "humanitarian task" for which Britain was grateful "and for which ... the international community should be grateful."9 For its part, Italy argued that because the Belgian troops had intervened only to protect human life and to restore law and order, the Belgian action should not even be considered an intervention, but rather "a temporary security action."10 The US simply observed that Belgium had not committed aggression, that matters were too critical to spend time trying to apportion blame, and that what was required was immediate UN assistance.11
A number of countries rejected the Western arguments. The Soviet Union and Poland insisted that Belgium's claim to protect human life was simply a pretext; the real reason was to further its own commercial interests.12 Nevertheless, even the protection of human life could not justify an intervention by one state in the affairs of another.13 Tunisia and Ecuador joined in arguing that the Belgian intervention was unjustifiable.14 African countries were also categorical, arguing that the effort was transparently colonial, rather than humanitarian.
On July 14, the Security Council unanimously passed Resolution 143, sponsored by Tunisia, which called on Belgium "to withdraw its troops," and authorized the Secretary-General to consult with the Congolese government in order to provide it "with such military assistance as may be necessary until ... the national security forces may be able ... to meet fully their tasks." The resolution, which was the legal basis for the subsequent establishment of the UN Operation in the Congo (ONUC, or Opération des Nations-Unies au Congo), was ambiguously drafted in order to avoid either a Soviet or a Western veto, and it was adopted by a vote of 8-0-3.15 Although many non-NATO states expressed the view that the Belgian military action was unlawful, the resolution did not accuse Belgium of an unlawful act, but the request was "an implied censure."16 A further purposeful element of ambiguity was that the resolution did not directly link the establishment of a UN force with the withdrawal of Belgian troops, which would have given an implicit endorsement to the Belgian argument that some non-Congolese force was necessary to preserve law and order.17
Following the Security Council mandate for ONUC, the mission deployed rapidly. The first troops were in the country the following day, and by July 17 (only three days later) more than 3,500 troops were on the ground.18 Despite the controversy over the presence of the Belgian troops, their presence did not create any serious difficulties for UN forces, and the Belgians were withdrawn by early September.
The immediate post-independence turmoil and Belgium's subsequent intervention resulted in the deployment of ONUC, a peacekeeping force that remained for four years. Although a number of secessionist struggles had ended by the time of the UN force's departure, civil strife certainly had not.19 Insurgencies had arisen in a number of provinces, and if anything they were inflamed by the establishment, in July 1964, of what was meant to be a government of national reconciliation, led by one former secessionist leader, Moise Tshombe. Congolese President Joseph Kasavubu had appointed Tshombe as prime minister in the hopes that a more broadly based government would help quell the unrest. The opposite proved to be the case. The contempt in which Tshombe was held in much of Africa was shown only a few days after he assumed office, when African foreign ministers, meeting in Cairo to prepare for the Second Assembly of Heads of State and Government, declared that Tshombe would not be welcome.20
On August 5, 1964, rebel forces seized control of Stanleyville, the northeastern provincial capital and former stronghold of deceased Prime Minister Patrice Lumumba. By this time, rebel forces controlled approximately half of the Congo. The rebel advance had become so rapid that it was thought that the central government might fall in a matter of weeks.21 A desperate Tshombe decided to hire white mercenaries from South Africa and Rhodesia. The rapid arrival of the mercenaries, supported by US-supplied aircraft, began to turn the tide of the rebel advance. On September 3, one of the rebel leaders sent a message to UN Secretary-General U Thant to the effect that he was holding as hostages 500 "white men, women and children" and would begin to execute them if the Tshombe government continued its use of mercenaries and its air attacks on rebel positions. The gravity of the message was confirmed by a number of radio interceptions in October, when US intelligence sources overheard rebel radio messages concerning the executions.22
Belgium and the US decided to mount a rescue attempt if negotiations to free the hostages were unsuccessful. After meeting a rebel intermediary in Nairobi, the two countries formed the opinion that unacceptable conditions had been placed on the release of the hostages,23 and there was no real alternative to a rescue attempt.24 On November 21, Prime Minister Tshombe authorized Belgium and the US to mount a rescue operation. Three days later, Belgian paratroopers were transported by US military aircraft into Stanleyville to commence rescue operations. Hours after the rescue attempt began, Brussels and Washington sent letters to the president of the Security Council emphasizing the request from the Congolese government. The intervention was strictly limited to the humanitarian goal of rescuing the hostages, who now numbered about 1,000 civilians from many different countries.25
In five days, approximately 2,000 foreign residents were evacuated. The Organization of African Unity's (OAU's) ad hoc Commission on the Congo protested that the action was likely to have made matters worse for both foreign residents and Congolese. Five or six foreign residents had been executed before the intervention, almost 200 were executed afterward, along with thousands of Congolese. While the Belgian and US governments publicly presented the intervention as a considerable success, the opinion of the OAU's ad hoc Commission may have been more accurate. Many more foreigners and Congolese might have lived if the ongoing OAU negotiations had been given more time.26 In any event, the intervention benefited the Tshombe government in its fight against the rebels.
The intervention occasioned a firestorm of protest in Africa. Many African governments argued in the Security Council that the real objective was to support a neocolonialist government and Western economic and political interests. At the request of 22 African and Asian member states, the Security Council met on December 9 to consider what the requestors called the Belgian and American aggression against the Congo.27 What followed was one of the most acrimonious debates in the Security Council's history, taking 17 sessions to complete.28
Many African states believed that the Tshombe government had no legitimacy29 and that claims from Belgium and the US were disingenuous. Egypt argued that the Belgian-American intervention represented nothing less than "naked aggression."30 To invite the former colonial master, even under the trappings of governmental consent and authority, was simply to reintroduce colonialism by the back door.31 Algeria made the allegation pointedly, claiming that "it is only natural that the main motive of those who helped the prime mover of Katanga's secession or who handed over the leadership of the Leopoldville Government to him should have been to retain a monopoly over the exploitation of enormous wealth."32 Moreover, the Belgian-US intervention was an affront to the recently established OAU, whose ad hoc Commission on the Congo had been set up to deal with the civil strife and was, they claimed, making serious progress in the negotiations.33 The affront to the dignity of the OAU was compounded by the seeming spectacle of whites killing blacks to save whites.34 The Soviet Union and Czechoslovakia essentially reiterated African and Asian claims.
The Belgian and US representatives confessed to having been stunned by what they regarded as the ugly tone of the debate. Paul-Henri Spaak, the Belgian foreign minister, called it "violent" and "insulting."35 US Permanent Representative Ambassador Adlai Stevenson referred to it as "irrational, irresponsible, insulting and repugnant language."36 Both countries repeated orally the claims that they each had made in writing on November 24 in letters to the president of the Security Council: the reason for the intervention was the humanitarian one of saving civilians, with the authorization of the lawful government of the Congo. On Belgium's behalf, Spaak argued that "the Stanleyville operation was not a military operation. It was not a matter of helping the Congolese National Army ... It was a question of saving between 1,500 and 2,000 persons whose lives were in danger. It was to save people who were regarded as hostages by the rebel authorities."37 Stevenson argued that the intervention "was exactly what we said it was when we notified this Council at the very beginning - nothing more and nothing less than a mission to save the lives of innocent people of diverse nationalities." Stevenson stated that beyond the primary objective of the US to rescue its own nationals, "we are proud that the mission rescued so many innocent people of eighteen other nationalities."38 Britain, France, Norway, Nationalist China, Bolivia, and Brazil accepted the legitimacy of the claims. Côte d'Ivoire, supported by Morocco, remarked that the "question at issue" was in fact the relatively straightforward one of a state's right to protect its own nationals, a concept that is "recognized in international law."39
The Security Council eventually passed Resolution 199 (1964) unanimously. It appealed for a cease-fire and requested all states to refrain from intervening in the domestic politics of the Congo. Because it requested all states to refrain from intervening in Congolese affairs, the US and Belgium were able to argue that this request implicitly referred, not simply to their military action, but also to alleged Soviet support for the rebel forces.
The legacy of actions in the early 1960s in Central Africa continues to colour the debate about intervention and state sovereignty. Colonial powers misused humanitarian justifications to mask self-interested motives. The end of colonialism did not mean that former colonial powers were readily given the benefit of the doubt by post-colonial countries when "humanitarianism" was invoked.
On April 24, 1965, a group of army officers revolted against the Dominican Government.40 Some members of the military expressed a preference for inviting back the exiled leader Juan Bosch, who had been ousted in a coup d'état in September 1963. Others preferred the formation of a junta that would rule until elections could be held. Fighting began between the "loyalists," who favoured the formation of a junta, and the "constitutionalists," who preferred the return of the constitutionally elected but deposed president.
The US intervened on April 28, citing the need to protect American and other foreign civilians living in the Dominican Republic. Announcing that he had sent 400 Marines, President Lyndon B. Johnson declared that, "I have ordered the Secretary of Defense to put the necessary American troops ashore in order to give protection to hundreds of Americans who are still in the Dominican Republic and to escort them to safety ... .This same assistance will be available to nationals of other countries"41 Within the next few days, thousands of additional troops were deployed. While the US was concerned about the safety of its nationals, it is widely accepted that the real reason for intervening was to affect the authority structure in the Dominican Republic. Washington had decided to intervene when it was felt that the constitutionalists might win the struggle and usher in a left-wing regime.42 One analyst comments: "The military outcome was a foregone conclusion once the Marines landed, for it was clear from the start which side they were supporting ... . Despite their official neutrality, the Marines invaded the rebel strongholds and permitted [loyalist] forces safe conduct through the US Security Zone."43
At the request of the Soviet Union,44 the Security Council held a series of meetings beginning on May 3. Defending its military action, the US argued that its intervention served two goals: "to save the lives of our people and ... of all people." And, the US representative openly confessed, "to help prevent another communist State in this hemisphere."45 Nationalist China enthusiastically supported both goals.46 Britain and The Netherlands expressed approval of the US evacuation of their nationals47 but avoided addressing the legitimacy of Washington's political objective. They supported the US call for the Dominican intervention to be left in the hands of the Organization of American States (OAS).
In the context of the Cold War rivalry, especially given its seeming manifestation in the streets of Santo Domingo itself, bitter opposition by the Soviet Union and Cuba was unsurprising.48 Soviet Ambassador Nikolai Fedorenko accused the US of "sanctimonious hypocrisy" because the claim to protect nationals was a pretext to aiding conservative elements in the civil struggle. The claim that Ambassador Stevenson made later in the debate that the "lives of thousands of people from nearly 40 countries hung in the balance" seems exaggerated.49 Unlike the case in Stanleyville, foreigners were not singled out and victimized, but rather suffered the same fate as the residents of Santo Domingo in coping with civil war. By the time the Security Council began to meet on May 3, President Johnson had appeared on national television to declare that the US would not allow the civil struggle to be won by the constitutionalist side, which he claimed had been "taken over and really seized and placed into the hands of a band of Communist conspirators ... . The American nations cannot, must not, and will not permit the establishment of another Communist Government in the Western Hemisphere."50
More revealing than the Soviet and Cuban opposition to the US military action was the opposition to the intervention by France, Uruguay, Jordan, Malaysia, and Côte d'Ivoire. While accepting the possible legitimate rescue of endangered nationals by states under certain circumstances, France argued that the essential purpose of the US intervention "appears to be directed against those who claim to have constitutional legality."51 In a careful and detailed legal analysis by Security Council standards, Uruguay trenchantly criticized the intervention as violating both UN Charter and OAS norms.52
The first phase of the Security Council debate on the Dominican crisis lasted until May 14, when Resolution 203 was passed unanimously, inviting the Secretary-General to send a fact-finding mission to the Dominican Republic.53 Meanwhile, various OAS organs had been meeting in Washington since the day after the initial landing - on April 30 - to call on all factions in the Dominican Republic to accept a cease-fire; on May 1, to establish a five-member commission to work for a negotiated solution; and finally, on May 6, to request OAS member states to create an Inter-American Force to take over from US troops. The debate at the OAS demonstrated a sharp division between the five states (Chile, Ecuador, Mexico, Peru, and Uruguay) that opposed the intervention as unjustifiable and contrary to both universal (that is, UN) and regional (that is, OAS) norms of noninterven-tion and the other 14 states (including the US). Of these 14, some argued that the intervention was necessary and legitimate, while others urged an urgent, peaceful resolution to the crisis. The resolution of May 6 enabled the deployment of an Inter-American Force under the command of a Brazilian general, but half of the US forces remained to constitute the core of the 12,000-strong Inter-American Force.
The intervention further fueled Latin American scepticism about disinterested motives, including humanitarian ones, invoked by the US or other major powers. Earlier experiences with gunboat diplomacy and the Monroe Doctrine asserting US hegemony in the Americas were substantially confirmed by this so-called humanitarian intervention in the Dominican Republic.
The Indian intervention in East Pakistan arose out of a self-determination struggle in East Pakistan that eventually resulted in civil war in March 1971.54 After the Awami League, a party advocating autonomy for East Pakistan, won the majority of seats in the National Assembly in the December 1970 elections, Pakistani President Yahya Khan responded by refusing to convene the parliament. His decision provoked widespread demonstrations in East Pakistan, to which the government responded by invoking martial law. This, in turn, prompted Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the leader of the Awami League, to issue a declaration, on March 23, that the struggle for emancipation would continue. Anticipating trouble, the Khan government had been sending additional troops into East Pakistan, and on March 26 civil war erupted.
The West Pakistani troops displayed a brutality that the Indian parliament then, and many commentators since, labeled "genocide."55 The army was certainly guilty of widespread pillage, rape, torture, and murder. In all likelihood, hundreds of thousands were slaughtered. The Hindus of East Pakistan, in particular, were especially marked for extermination.56 In a study of the events published some months later, the International Commission of Jurists summarized the Pakistani Army's behaviour in this way:
By late autumn, 10 million refugees had fled into India. In addition to the tremendous social, economic, and administrative burden on India, the refugees fled to a politically volatile area of India.58 New Delhi feared the creation of social and political upheaval that could undermine India's own stability.
Relations between India and Pakistan deteriorated rapidly. India began to support the Mukti Bahini, the Bengali liberation movement, by allowing India to be used as a safe haven in the autumn and by providing air cover for guerrilla forces. Border incidents multiplied, with each side accusing the other of repeated violations.59 On December 3, in a surprising move, Pakistan bombed 10 Indian military airfields, hoping, it seems, to disable the Indian Air Force.60 India responded with an all-out offensive into East Pakistan the next day, completely cutting off East from West Pakistan. Two days later, India recognized former East Pakistan as the independent state of Bangladesh. Within a few days, Indian forces occupied most parts of the former province, and on December 16 the Pakistani Army surrendered.
Within hours of the Indian entry into East Pakistan, representatives from a number of countries requested an immediate session of the Security Council, which met later that day. India's principal justification was that it was acting in self-defence, having been attacked by Pakistan on December 3.61 Further, India also claimed that the influx of 10 million refugees amounted to "refugee aggression" and represented such an intolerable burden that it constituted a kind of "constructive" attack.62 The Soviet Union later pointed out that this number was larger than the populations of 88 out of the then 131 member states of the UN.63
In addition to the principal justification of self-defence, India also made reference to the need to provide support to the Bengali victims of the Pakistan Army's onslaught. At the end of his initial statement to the Security Council, the Indian representative said that "we have on this particular occasion absolutely nothing but the purest of motives and the purest of intentions: to rescue the people of East Bengal from what they are suffering."64 During the debates in both the Security Council and the General Assembly between December 5 and 21, this statement came closest to justifying India's intention to intervene as being to protect the people of East Pakistan. At no time did India claim a right of humanitarian intervention, but rather insisted that it had used military force in self-defence.65 However, in statement after statement, India repeatedly referred to the massive abuses committed by the Pakistani Army and linked the atrocities to the disenchantment of the people of East Pakistan with the central government and to the need for a genuine political settlement in East Pakistan.66
International reaction at the UN to the Indian claims was striking. In a debate that involved more than half of the member states, few countries accepted that the circumstances actually justified India's claimed use of force in self-defence,67 and not a single country argued that India had a right to intervene militarily in order to rescue the beleaguered people of East Pakistan. Although India had not expressly invoked a right to intervene for humanitarian reasons, the countries participating in the debate were well aware of claims of mass murder, and even of genocide, in East Pakistan.68 Except for the Soviet-bloc countries, states that participated in either the Security Council or General Assembly debates chose to ignore the well-founded claims concerning egregious human rights violations. Many countries emphasized the importance of the principle of nonintervention,69 and few even addressed the delicate issue of intervention to improve a desperate humanitarian situation. No country did so in the Security Council. And when the matter was transferred to the General Assembly under the Uniting for Peace resolution, the statements of Iran,70 Jordan,71 Sweden,72 and Mauritania73 can be read as having condemned the idea that an intervention could be legitimate under such circumstances.
New Delhi endeavoured, to some extent, to portray itself as a hapless bystander to the events in East Pakistan that had used military force only reluctantly and in self-defence.74 Most states were not prepared to accept the argument. That a weakened Pakistan was in India's strategic interest was lost on no one, nor was the fact that India's assistance to the Mukti Bahini over many months had considerably strengthened its fighting capacity against the Pakistani Army. Moreover, the heavy fighting actually made the refugee situation significantly worse. It is also likely that a number of states may have taken the view that India had attacked Pakistan first, which the latter had argued in the Security Council.75
Whatever the reasons, no state raised them as grounds for legitimizing the intervention. Moreover, diplomatic support for India's military action was conspicuously absent. The Security Council was blocked by Soviet vetoes, and consideration of the intervention moved to the General Assembly under the Uniting for Peace procedure. Resolution 2793 (XXVI) was passed on December 7 by a vote of 104-11-10. It called for a cease-fire between India and Pakistan and also for the withdrawal of their armed forces from each other's territory. Since there were virtually no Pakistani forces in India, the resolution was, effectively, a call for Indian troops to leave East Pakistan. The resolution, and the call for military forces to return to their own territory, was considered a diplomatic defeat for New Delhi. Nonetheless, Indian troops continued their military campaign in East Pakistan until the Pakistani Army surrendered.
After infiltrating into Shaba province, a southern province of Zaire, bordering on Angola and Zambia, a rebel force of a few thousand men attempted to seize the town of Kolwezi on May 11, 1978, as part of an ongoing guerrilla campaign to overthrow the government of President Mobutu Sese Soko.76 Kolwezi was the heart of Zaire's copper-mining industry, which was central to Zaire's foreign exchange earnings, and more than 2,000 Westerners, mostly Belgian and French, lived there. On May 14, the Zairean Government requested assistance in suppressing the rebellion from Belgium, France, the US, China, and Morocco.77 Two days later, reports that the rebels had murdered some members of the European population began to circulate. Belgium and France decided to mount a rescue operation, and the US agreed to provide the necessary transport.
France had declared that it would mount the rescue operation in close cooperation with Belgium, but French troops actually landed in Kolwezi first, in the early morning of May 19. The French claimed that they had intercepted a radio message from a rebel commander to the effect that Europeans would be killed in the event of a rescue attempt. On learning of the imminent intervention, the rebels murdered about 60 Europeans.
Differences of viewpoints between the French and the Belgians concerning the objective of their intervention soon surfaced. Whereas France declared an intention both to rescue its nationals and to help the Zairean Government restore order, Belgium said its goal was the purely humanitarian one of rescuing its nationals and whomever else among the foreign population who wished to leave.78
In a telegram to UN Secretary-General Kurt Waldheim, on May 19, President Mobutu complained about the invasion, which he claimed was supported by Angola. But he would not request a Security Council meeting because he considered the rebellion to be an African affair. As a result, the Security Council did not meet, nor did the OAU. As it happened, the Fifth Franco-African Conference of Heads of State and Government, attended by 20 African countries, was taking place in Paris from May 22 to 23, during the last, more pronouncedly French, phase of the operation. President Eyadema of Togo, speaking for the African states, endorsed the Shaba intervention.79 Few formal state protests seem to have been made,80 in contrast to the heated African protests regarding the Stanleyville intervention.81
The subsequent debate at a meeting of the OAU in Khartoum demonstrated that African states were divided about the propriety of accepting military help from non-African powers. A number took the view that the essential issue concerning the French-Belgian intervention was not the protection of nationals abroad, but rather a legitimate request from a lawful government.82
After a lengthy civil war, the Khmer Rouge came to power in Cambodia in April 1975, with the intention of "purifying" Cambodian politics.83 Commentators estimate that 1 to 2 million people were murdered by the government or died from malnutrition or disease.84 Amnesty International (AI) estimated that the figure of those calculatedly murdered, as opposed to those who died in other ways, amounted to hundreds of thousands.85 Minorities were especially subject to victimization, and "more than half of the total 1975 Cham population of 400,000 was killed."86 Under the weight of such devastating figures, it seems unnecessary to detail the broad and systematic violations of other rights, such as the right to liberty, freedom from slavery and slave-like practices, the right to a fair trial, the right to privacy and family life, and the right to freedom of expression.87
Immediately after their assumption of power, the Khmer Rouge began a series of cross-border attacks on Vietnam. During the summer and autumn of 1978, heavy fighting occurred along the border, with both the Cambodian and the Vietnamese governments blaming the other for acts of aggression. Vietnam ultimately invaded Cambodia with more than 100,000 troops, supported by 20,000 soldiers of the newly formed National United Front for an Independent, Neutral, Peaceful, and Cooperative Cambodia. The Vietnamese troops quickly overran most of Cambodia, and by January 7, 1979, Phnom Penh fell. On January 8, the United Front formed a People's Revolutionary Council.
Because mass murder in Cambodia had been well documented, by the autumn of 1978, it could be argued that rescuing people from one of the most extraordinary examples of mass murder in the 20th century would be an outstanding example of humanitarian intervention. However, when Vietnam justified its conduct before the Security Council, it did not claim such a right. Rather, Vietnam invoked the right of self-defence because of Khmer Rouge aggression against Vietnam since 1975.88 What Vietnam termed a "border war" justified its use of force in self-defence. Vietnam argued further that the "inhumane policies" of the Khmer Rouge regime, which had made Cambodia a "living hell," had caused the people of Cambodia to rebel against the regime and that it was this people's uprising which "overthrew the Pol Pot-Ieng Sary clique." There had been, in other words, two wars in Cambodia: "one, the border war started by the Pol Pot-Ieng Sary clique against Viet Nam," with regard to which Vietnam used force in self-defence; and "the other, the revolutionary war of the Kampuchean people."89 With regard to the second, it was the Cambodian people themselves, Vietnam claimed, who had overthrown the Khmer Rouge regime.
Vietnam therefore did not describe its presence in Cambodia as a use of military force to pursue humanitarian objectives. In fact, Vietnam did not mention its presence in Cambodia at all. In none of the Vietnamese statements to the Security Council did the government acknowledge that Vietnamese forces were actually in Cambodia, let alone a presence of some 100,000 troops. Indeed, the Vietnamese representative referred to the "alleged invasion of the Vietnamese Army."90 The disingenuousness of the Vietnamese argument undoubtedly stunned most members of the Security Council. However, neither the Soviet Union nor the other Eastern-bloc countries acknowledged the invasion.91 Each argued that the Cambodian people themselves had overthrown the Khmer Rouge regime.92 The presence of Vietnamese troops in Cambodia was never formally acknowledged.93
The Western countries participating in the debate rejected Vietnam's claim to self-defence, and then went on to address the issue of whether a humanitarian claim could have been legitimate. None of the five NATO countries that spoke - France, Norway, Portugal, the United Kingdom, and the US - thought that Vietnam's intervention could have been justified. Four of them expressly raised the issue of human rights and said emphatically that even massive violations would not have justified military intervention. Given what was known about abuses by the Khmer Rouge, Western responses are worth examining more closely. For instance, Norway said,
France agreed:
Portugal also agreed:
The United Kingdom (UK) also put the matter emphatically: "Whatever is said about human rights in Kampuchea, it cannot excuse Vietnam ... for violating the territorial integrity of Democratic Kampuchea."97 Of the other Western states in the debate, Australia also raised the human rights issue and put the matter every bit as categorically as NATO members: "We cannot accept that the internal policies of any Government, no matter how reprehensible, can justify a military attack upon it by another Government."98
All five of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) participating in the Security Council debate argued that Vietnam's intervention was unjustifiable. Given suspicions about Vietnam's long-standing expansionary behaviour in the region, reactions from these neighbouring countries were united in their rejection of the intervention. Only Singa-pore directly raised the issue of massive human rights violations:
Without mentioning the human rights situation in Cambodia explicitly, Indonesia argued that, "[W]e may not like, we may even abhor, the political and social system in a country, but that fact cannot justify an armed intervention with the aim of changing that system."100 Malaysia and the Philippines, not even mentioning the issue of human rights violations directly, argued that intervention was unacceptable for any reason.101
Among other countries participating in the debate, Bolivia and Jamaica referred to the issue of massive human rights violations by the Khmer Rouge but argued that they could not justify Vietnam's intervention.102 Without referring directly to the human rights situation in Cambodia, Nigeria and Yugoslavia both argued that a domestic situation could not be used as a justification for foreign intervention in any form.103 Bangladesh, Kuwait, Sudan, Gabon, and Zambia emphasized the importance of the nonintervention principle.104
The only countries that supported Vietnam's intervention were the Soviet Union and its political allies. Of the remaining 22 states, half directly addressed the issue of whether substantial human rights violations could justify a military intervention and argued emphatically that such violations could not. The debate ended on January 15, when a draft resolution calling for the withdrawal of all foreign (that is, Vietnamese) forces from Cambodia, although supported by 13 members of the Council, was vetoed by the Soviet Union.
Some time later, ASEAN countries requested the inclusion of an agenda item about Cambodia at the next autumn session of the General Assembly. Fifty-two countries presented their views during three full days of debate. Aside from the Socialist bloc and Soviet allies, Vietnam found no support but somewhat shifted the justification for its use of military force. Vietnam continued to claim to the General Assembly that it had acted in self-defence and that the Khmer Rouge regime had been overthrown by the Cambodian people themselves, but now it also admitted that its forces had in fact assisted the Cambodian people in their overthrow of the regime - without, however, at any time acknowledging the massive nature of Vietnamese assistance.105 Vietnam was, once again, supported by the Soviet Union, other Eastern-bloc countries, a number of Soviet political allies, and Grenada - a total of 17 countries, essentially on the ground that the Khmer Rouge regime had committed aggression against Vietnam.
Particular note should be taken of arguments used by three of Vietnam's supporters, the German Democratic Republic, Laos, and Afghanistan. After detailing Khmer Rouge human rights violations and arguing that such violations had reached genocidal proportions, each state claimed that intervention under such extraordinary circumstances had a legitimate character. For instance, the German Democratic Republic claimed that "the assistance of Vietnam in the struggle for a new Kampuchea was primarily a humanitarian matter. It rescued the Kampuchean people from total destruction." This was one of the few occasions when any state clearly supported the view that the use of military force could be legitimate if it had the humanitarian objective of preventing substantial loss of life of people who were not the intervening state's own nationals.106
Approximately 20 states participating in the General Assembly debate directly addressed the issue of whether substantial human rights violations could provide a justification for intervention; and they argued that they could not. In the presidency, Ireland presented the viewpoint of the European Community. The members were aware that "basic human rights" were "grossly violated" by the Khmer Rouge regime, which behaved with "unparalleled brutality." Nonetheless, the violations did not justify Vietnam's intervention, which was "in contravention of fundamental principles of the Charter."107 Austria, Bhutan, Pakistan, and Zaire agreed, as did the US and Australia, repeating views that they had expressed some months earlier in the Security Council.
On this occasion, the ASEAN states spoke more emphatically about intervention on human rights grounds than they had earlier in the Security Council. In the Council only Singapore had directly addressed human rights, and it had argued that intervention was not permissible, "however badly [the Kampuchean] Government may have treated its people."108 Singapore was joined in this viewpoint by Indonesia, Malaysia, and the Philippines. Malaysia, for example, argued, "No country has the right to intervene in the affairs of another for whatever reason or on whatever excuse. Admittedly, there is evidence that the Pol Pot government had been committing large scale violations of human rights in Kampuchea." Although Vietnam relied on such claims, according to the delegate, "This is a justification that no self-respecting country could accept. If it were to be accepted, no country could feel secure."109 If anything, the Philippines put the matter even more emphatically. Having first declared that the Khmer Rouge regime was "genocidal,"110 the Philippine representative went on to argue,
At the conclusion of the debate, on November 14, the General Assembly adopted the ASEAN-inspired Resolution 34/22 by a vote of 91-21-29, calling for the immediate withdrawal of foreign forces from Cambodia and appealing to all states to cease interfering in its internal affairs. Although not mentioned by name, the intention was to censure Vietnam, the only country with forces in Cambodia. The resolution was supported by, in addition to ASEAN, all Western countries, most Latin American countries, and a range of others. It was opposed by Vietnam, the Warsaw Pact countries, and such Soviet political allies as Cuba and Ethiopia.112
By the time of his overthrow in April 1979, the government of President Idi Amin was believed to have been responsible for the murder of "at least 100,000 and possibly as many as half a million people."113 His eight-year regime was marked from the very beginning by repression and brutality. In the early period, the victims were primarily soldiers from the Acholi and Langi ethnic groups because they were assumed to be in favour of the reestablishment of the government of Milton Obote, whom Amin had overthrown in the January 1971 coup d'état.114 A number of massacres of Acholi and Langi occurred between 1971 and 1973, but in the ensuing years the lack of discipline of the army and other armed agents of the regime was such that by 1977 the violence "had become almost random."115 As AI was later to report, "the absence of restraint on killings of political opponents and criminal suspects led to many other civilians being seized and killed by members of the security forces for criminal motives or simply quite arbitrarily."116
As the former colonial power, Britain maintained close political and economic relations with Uganda, and this led the British press to publish stories of human rights violations. Britain decided to request the 1977 session of the UN Commission on Human Rights to establish an international enquiry into Ugandan human rights violations, and the Commonwealth Heads of Government, meeting in London later, went to the unprecedented length of condemning Uganda on the grounds that the "massive violation of human rights ... were so gross as to warrant the world's concern and to evoke condemnation by Heads of Government in strong and unequivocal terms."117 The World Council of Churches also condemned the regime in 1977, occasioned by Amin's murder of an Anglican archbishop, the regime's harsh treatment of other clergy, and its harassment of Christians generally.118 The chorus of rising condemnation was supported by a 1978 AI report cataloguing the broad and systematic violation of human rights in Uganda.119
Internal opposition also increased. In April 1978, Amin publicly denounced his own vice president and minister of defence, army chief-of-staff, and chief of police. Then, at the end of September and early in October, Amin was forced to suppress mutinies at a number of army bases. Loyal troops pursued some of the mutineering soldiers across the border into Tanzania. Some days later, Amin announced on Ugandan radio that Uganda was annexing the Kagera region of northwest Tanzania. President Julius Nyerere of Tanzania responded by declaring that Uganda's purported annexation of Tanzanian territory was "tantamount to an act of war."120
Tanzania began a counterattack in mid-November.121 By early December, it had pushed the Ugandan forces back across the border into Uganda. In a number of public statements, Amin referred to a "Phase Two" of his operation to annex the Kagera region; and in mid-December Ugandan troops invaded Tanzania a second time. That attack was repulsed, but Ugandan forces once again attacked in January. Nyerere was later to claim that, at this point, a decision was made to pursue the Ugandan forces well into Uganda, back to the army bases at Masaka and Mbarra, and to destroy those bases but that no decision had been made to penetrate further into Uganda.122
The rapid advance of the invading Tanzanian troops and Ugandan rebel forces alarmed Amin to the point where, on February 23, he called on "friendly countries in Africa, the Third World, Arabs, socialist countries and the PLO" for support.123 In an effort to prop up the regime, Libya's Colonel Muammar Ghaddafi sent Libyan troops to Uganda. In early March, the Nairobi Times reported that approximately 2,500 Libyan troops had arrived in Uganda.124 On March 13, Amin publicly announced that Palestinian forces had also joined the struggle on his side. Amin's use of foreign troops convinced Nyerere that Tanzania would not enjoy security unless Amin himself was overthrown. Tanzanian forces were ordered to penetrate deeper into Uganda. Kampala, the capital, fell on April 10, and Amin fled into exile, first to Libya and ultimately to Saudi Arabia.
Despite the regime's egregious violations of human rights and responsibility for the murder of at least tens of thousands of people, at no time did Tanzania advance the claim that its military action was humanitarian. Rather, Nyerere continuously emphasized that there were two wars being fought: "First there are Ugandans fighting to remove the Fascist dictator. Then there are Tanzanians fighting to maintain national security." By this logic, Tanzania was using force in self-defence126 and Ugandan exiles were fighting in an attempt to overthrow Amin in an exercise of self-determination.
International reaction to Tanzania's intervention was surprisingly muted. Amin wrote to UN Secretary-General Waldheim to ask for a Security Council meeting, but the request was withdrawn some days later.127 No other member state requested a Security Council meeting. As a result, there was no focused debate at the UN on the validity of the Tanzanian and Ugandan claims and counterclaims concerning the self-defence argument or humanitarian intervention issue.128
The OAU discussed the Tanzanian intervention on three separate occasions - the February and July meetings of the Council of Ministers, and then the July meeting of the Heads of State and Government - but with no condemnation of the Tanzanian action. Four front-line states (Angola, Botswana, Mozambique, and Zambia) argued that Tanzania had legitimately used force in self-defence. Only African states with substantial Muslim populations were prepared to offer some support to Uganda's interpretation of events.129 Libya, Nigeria, and Sudan did not accept the Tanzanian claim of self-defence and accused the government of aggression.
It is a matter of considerable speculation as to why international reaction to the Tanzanian intervention was so muted. It was, after all, the first occasion in the continent's post-colonial history when one state invaded a neighbour and then overthrew its government. Further, the Tanzanian intervention in Uganda came only weeks after the Vietnamese intervention in Cambodia, which had occasioned substantial and acrimonious debate, both in the Security Council and later in the General Assembly. There were certainly a number of factors that might help explain the muted response. The contrast between Tanzania's and Uganda's presidents was striking. Nyerere enjoyed high prestige in Africa and elsewhere as an honourable politician and statesman. Amin, by way of contrast, was regarded in many circles as a liar, buffoon, and even a madman.130 Tanzania enjoyed an especially high reputation in OAU circles and also at the UN. In addition to matters of reputation and esteem, Nyerere seemed to have given an honest, straightforward, and consistent account of Tanzania's actions. This stands in stark contrast to Vietnam's disingenuous account of its own intervention.
Furthermore, many states simply accepted the claim that Tanzania had acted in self-defence. Certainly, Tanzania was not seen as having greater designs on Uganda or in the region, whereas Vietnam's intervention in Cambodia might have been seen as a hege-monic move on Vietnam's part131 or, even worse for some, as part of a greater Soviet design, with Vietnam as a surrogate.132 This was certainly not the case with Tanzania's intervention in Uganda. At this particular stage in the Cold War strategic balance, Uganda was beyond the periphery of the East-West rivalry.
Finally, since African countries were silent, other states may have felt disinclined to raise the matter. Whatever the reasons, Tanzania's intervention met with little protest. States began to establish diplomatic relations with the new Ugandan Government relatively quickly, and it was accredited at the autumn session of the General Assembly, very much in contrast to the situation of the Heng Samrin regime in Cambodia, whose credentials were denied in favour of those of the odious, overthrown Pol Pot regime by a vote of 71-35-34.133
On the night of September 20, 1979, French troops invaded the Central African Empire and overthrew the government of self-proclaimed Emperor Jean-Bedel Bokassa while he was on a state visit to Libya.134 The government's human rights record was abysmal. Political rights as such were barely recognized, there was substantial censorship of the press, and political prisoners were commonly tortured. The murder of dissidents became increasingly commonplace.
The catalyst for the French intervention was the regime's murder of secondary-school children in January and again in April. In January, Bokassa had issued an imperial decree making it compulsory for secondary-school children to wear a special uniform, manufactured in a factory owned by one of Bokassa's wives. The children held a public demonstration, and rioting later ensued. The army moved in to quell the disturbances and ultimately opened fire on some of the demonstrators. It is estimated that 150 to 200 school children were killed. Opposition to the government intensified, and in April secondary and university students began a general strike. Bokassa ordered a roundup of dissidents, and the students were brought to Ngaragba prison, where approximately 100 of them were tortured and then murdered over the next few days. It was alleged that Bokassa had personally taken part in the torture and killings. AI released the news of the murders and set up a Commission of Inquiry, composed of judges from five African countries, which reported in mid-August that the murders had in fact occurred and that Bokassa himself had "almost certainly" participated in them.135
Bokassa had become an extreme embarrassment to France,136 which had been the principal support of successive Central African governments since independence in 1960.137 With the murder of school children, the government's deteriorating human rights record had assumed grotesque proportions. Sometime in the summer, Paris decided that Bokassa had to be removed.138 Taking advantage of his absence, the French government engineered a bloodless coup. Eighteen hundred French troops flew in and took over Bangui, the capital, in a matter of hours. At first, France tried to make it appear that the troops were invited by the new government of David Dacko, the former president, whom Bokassa had himself overthrown by coup d'état in 1966. But it soon emerged that the new government had in fact been brought to power by the French intervention.
International reaction was muted. Neither the UN nor the OAU formally debated the intervention, and few states even issued public comments. Burundi issued a statement praising the intervention, while Benin, Chad, and Libya condemned it.139 Although France's intervention occurred literally a few days before the General Assembly's opening, during the general debate only Libya raised the issue.140 Twenty-five member states, however, took the opportunity to comment on Vietnam's intervention in Cambodia.141
The Central African Empire was a small and desperately poor country, with France, the former colonial power, believed to be providing more than half the annual budget. Moreover, Bokassa had an increasingly embarrassing human rights record and had few remaining political allies in Africa or elsewhere. The closest political supporter of the self-proclaimed emperor had been Idi Amin, who had been overthrown himself some months before.
On October 13, 1983, a coup d'état occurred on the tiny Caribbean island of Grenada, and Prime Minister Maurice Bishop was put under house arrest, as were some of his cabinet colleagues two days later.142 On October 17, a crowd of Grenadians rescued Bishop and then tried to rescue the detained members of his cabinet. In the ensuing melee, Bishop and three cabinet ministers were killed, along with more than a dozen others. A 96-hour shoot-on-sight curfew was imposed.143 The coup itself, followed afterwards by the murder of the prime minister and members of his cabinet, sent shock waves throughout the Caribbean. Meeting in Barbados on October 21 to discuss the implications for regional security, the prime ministers of the Organization of Eastern Caribbean States (OECS) requested US assistance.144
Four days later, approximately 2,000 US troops and 300 from neighbouring Caribbean countries landed in Grenada and subdued the forces of the coup leaders, after three days of surprisingly stiff resistance. On the day of the invasion itself, the OECS countries issued a press statement setting out their justifications for the military action.145 It indicated that the intervention had become necessary for a number of reasons: the fear that there would be "further loss of life" and a "general deterioration of public order," that the new ruling authorities would "further suppress the population of Grenada," and that the "disproportionate military strength" of the new ruling authorities "posed a serious threat to the security of the OECS countries." In the opinion of these OECS countries, well-founded fears justified a "pre-emptive defensive strike," the legality of which was grounded in an invitation from the Grenadian governor-general and in the provisions of Article 8 of the OECS Treaty dealing with collective defence.
Two of the justifications for the intervention - the need to prevent further loss of life and suppression of the rights of Grenadians - represent quintessentially humanitarian claims.146 In fact, the rationale of responding to the suppression of the rights of Grenadians went much further than previous grounds for humanitarian intervention. Elements of this wider humanitarian rationale were later used by some of the intervening states in their statements to the Security Council and the General Assembly. For example, Jamaica argued at one stage before the Council that "we are there to assist the people of Grenada to free themselves from a military dictatorship and to establish conditions within which it might be possible for the will of the people to be displayed in free elections."147 This humanitarian claim initially seemed to be endorsed by the US, when its permanent representative, Ambassador Jeane Kirkpatrick, argued the next day that "the prohibitions against the use of force in the Charter are contextual, not absolute. They provide justification for the use of force in pursuit of other values also inscribed in the Charter, such values as freedom, democracy, peace."148 In the subsequent General Assembly debate, Kirkpatrick returned to the theme, arguing that the use of force was lawful because it was carried out "in the service of values of the Charter, including the restoration of the rule of law, self-determination, sovereignty, democracy and respect for the human rights of the people of Grenada."149
This broader humanitarian argument attracted no supporters other than the intervening states themselves. And Washington later backed away as well. A letter sent by the State Department's legal adviser to the American Bar Association stated that, "[W]e did not assert a broad new doctrine of ‘humanitarian intervention.' We relied instead on the narrowest, well-established ground of protection of US nationals."150
The narrower version of the humanitarian claim by the OECS countries - intervention to prevent loss of life - was not accepted by the vast majority of UN member states. There had been approximately 18 deaths in the week following the coup, most of them after the attempt by Bishop's supporters to free the now-deceased prime minister and his cabinet colleagues. The harsh shoot-on-sight curfew had ensured that Grenada remained quiet, if tense, since that time. Whatever the claims about the need to guard against further loss of life, Security Council statements by most of the Caribbean countries made clear that the essential reason for the intervention was the perceived need to preempt a threat to the security of the region.151
In addition to supporting the OECS motivations, the US added a more precise one, the protection of its own nationals. Kirkpatrick said that her country was "deeply concerned" by the shoot-on-sight curfew, which "constituted a clear and present danger to the security, safety and well-being of ... the Americans," and that the alarming circumstances of this additional concern also justified the US in taking military action.152 Many legal commentators have cast doubt on the appropriateness of this justification.153 While the political situation in post-coup Grenada was uncertain, there seemed to have been no real danger to US or other nationals.154 Like the Grenadians themselves, they were subject to the strict curfew, but certainly no direct threats were made against them. Subsequent research has shown that senior policy makers in Washington saw the unsettled political situation as a tactical opportunity to influence the authority structure in Grenada, rather than as a desperate situation for US nationals.155
The US later vetoed a resolution condemning the intervention. Interestingly, it was supported by two NATO allies, France and the Netherlands. When an almost identical resolution was voted on in the General Assembly, Washington's isolation became even more apparent. The only states voting against Resolution 38/7, which called the intervention "a flagrant violation of international law" and called for the "immediate withdrawal of foreign troops," were the invading countries, plus Israel and El Salvador. The resolution was passed by a vote of 108-9-27. Nine NATO allies - Denmark, France, Greece, Iceland, Italy, the Netherlands, Norway, Portugal, and Spain - argued that the intervention was unlawful, while the other members abstained.
Debate in both the Security Council and the General Assembly did not clarify whether those condemning the intervention believed that a unilateral use of military force to rescue endangered nationals abroad (or for the broader, OECS-US-declared purpose of preventing the further suppression of the rights of Grenadians) was unlawful, or whether the situation in Grenada was an invalid exercise of such a right.156 For instance, The Netherlands representative stated, "[M]y delegation is of the view that the action taken cannot be considered compatible with the basic principles of the Charter of the United Nations."157 However, the General Assembly overwhelmingly condemned the Grenada intervention as unlawful. Apart from the intervening states, none spoke in favour of a right of humanitarian intervention.
On December 20, 1989, a US invasion force of 24,000 troops intervened in Panama to dislodge the regime of General Manuel Noriega.158 The fighting lasted only a few days, after which Noriega was overthrown and brought to the US to face prosecution on drug-trafficking charges. Independent human rights organizations, such as the Commission for the Defense of Human Rights in Central America, estimate that during the intervention between 1,000 and 4,000 Panamanian civilians were killed and thousands wounded.159
At the request of Nicaragua, the Security Council met on the evening of the invasion to consider Nicaragua's claim that the US action was an unlawful act of aggression.160 In a letter to the Security Council's president earlier in the day, the US reported that its military action had been taken in self-defence, in response to what it claimed were repeated attacks by Panamanian armed forces on US nationals.161 The last such incidents, on December 16, resulted in the death of a US serviceman, the wounding of another, and the beating of a third. In his opening remarks to the Security Council, US Permanent Representative Thomas Pickering said that "the action is designed to protect American lives as well as to fulfil the obligations of the United States to defend the integrity of the Panama Canal Treaties."162
During the invasion, Washington's policy makers presented a mix of legal justifications and motives for the military action. Legal commentators since have commingled justifications and motives as though they were one and the same.163 Speaking on national television hours after the invasion had been launched, President George Bush declared that the military action had a number of objectives: to protect US nationals in Panama, to help fulfill obligations under the Panama Canal Treaties, and to combat drug trafficking by ensuring the prosecution of Noriega.164 In addition, he also included helping to restore democracy in Panama. In his statements to the Security Council, Pickering endeavoured to distinguish US legal justifications and objectives. He declared that the US interest in restoring democracy was an important goal but not a legal basis for the military action. The legal adviser to the State Department later declared that it did provide a legal basis:
This claim appears bolder than the variant asserted by some of the intervening states in Grenada. An assertion of a right to use military force to promote democratic and human rights values is clearly a broader and more expansive claim than one to protect human life.
Whatever legal consequences might be said to arise from the difference between US legal justifications and goals, UN member states were in no mood to split hairs. Other than the US itself, of the 19 states that made statements in the Security Council, 14 condemned the intervention as unlawful on the basis of the peremptory character of international norms related to nonintervention and to the nonuse of force. Finland and France regarded the intervention as unjustified because the circumstances did not warrant it.166 Only Canada and the UK spoke in support of the legitimacy of the intervention, but they were imprecise about which elements of the US argument they approved.167 A draft Security Council resolution condemning the invasion as contrary to international law was vetoed by Washington. An almost identical resolution was put to the General Assembly some days later, which voted 75-20-40 to condemn the invasion as a "flagrant violation of international law."168 With the exceptions of Austria, Finland, Spain, and Sweden - which voted with the majority to censure the US - the rest of the Western world either voted against the resolution or abstained. The Soviet Union and its political allies voted in favour of the resolution, as did almost every Latin American country.169 All of the African and Asian states either voted with the majority in censuring the US or abstained. OAS disapproval was even more apparent than at the UN. The OAS voted to censure the intervention by a vote of 20-1-5, with only the US voting against the resolution.
Striking paradoxes arise from an analysis of interventions during the first 45 years of the Charter regime. Humanitarian justifications were most robust in cases where purely humanitarian motives were weakest. The protection of one's nationals was less "humanitarian," or more overtly self-interested, than the protection of nationals from another state. In a number of cases, even the protection of nationals was more of a smoke screen than a genuine motivation. During this period, the outright abuse of humanitarian justifications seemed to be a common feature of state practice. A recent study by the Danish Institute of International Affairs concluded that "judging from the experience of more than 150 years of practice, in which humanitarian considerations have been invoked to justify intervention, it is obvious that the doctrine gives room for abuse. This raises the question of the justifiability of the doctrine as applied to real life."170
The cases from this period demonstrate that powerful states have a long history of fabricating and employing tendentious legal arguments to rationalize intervention in weaker states. The argument, therefore, that the promotion of an international regime of humanitarian intervention would give interveners a legal pretext ignores one fact. Strong states which are - for reasons good or bad - determined to intervene in a weak state have no shortage of legal rationalizations for their actions.
If most of the self-proclaimed humanitarian interventions were of dubious legitimacy, several interventions where self-defence was invoked could have just as easily been based on humanitarian grounds. Although the invocation of humanitarian claims in the most egregious of the episodes would have been appropriate - in East Pakistan's mass murders in 1971, in Idi Amin's Uganda throughout the 1970s, and in Pol Pot's Cambodia in the late 1970s - intervening states chose to frame the legitimacy of their respective interventions on the grounds of self-defence. Furthermore, few other states raised the issue in international debates. Certainly the strongest contemporary advocates - NATO members -categorically rejected the existence of a norm of humanitarian intervention. In fact, these countries continued to recognize the Khmer Rouge as the representative of Cambodia at the UN for another decade. Ironically, the modest support that did exist came from unlikely quarters: Afghanistan, Laos, and the German Democratic Republic.
In retrospect, these three cases have become clear examples of the necessity - and even legitimacy - of humanitarian intervention, even though few such arguments were made at the time. There may have been some reluctance to set a precedent that others could also use against weaker states. As one sceptic has summarized, "Although they bowed in the direction of humanitarianism, the interventionist leaders involved in these episodes justified their actions on conventional grounds of self-defence."171
These interventions were motivated by the "internal character of the regimes they acted against. And history has by and large ratified that verdict," according to UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan. However, "few would now deny that in those cases intervention was a lesser evil than allowing the massacres to continue."172 Interestingly, each case also challenges the conventional wisdom that disinterested, multilateral humanitarian interventions necessarily produce greater benefits to populations in distress than ones that are self-interested and undertaken by a state acting alone.
The failure of intervening states and their supporters to make additional use of a humanitarian justification may suggest either that such a norm was not considered to exist or that it was regarded as so contentious that it was necessary to justify the conduct on entirely different grounds. The failure to raise the humanitarian argument directly should not be overstated. There were, after all, very few instances in which it could have been raised with any real possibility of successfully mobilizing support. For many episodes, the threshold requirement of the existence or likelihood of substantial loss of life, however ambiguous a criterion that might be, could not be said to have been reached.
On balance, state practice from 1945 to 1990 reveals little support for a right of humanitarian intervention. This survey of state practice thus adds support to the international legal commentators who argue that military intervention without Security Council approval, even on humanitarian grounds, was prohibited by the UN Charter during the Cold War.173 Revisionist historians, however, might be tempted to pose a counterfactual: "What would have been the international reaction to these cases had they occurred in the 1990s rather than before?"
The focus of this essay is on military interventions conducted in the 1990s against the wishes of a government, or without meaningful consent, but with purported humanitarian justifications. Cases where both these criteria are met amount to "humanitarian interventions," which are classically seen as "coercive action by one or more states involving the use of armed force in another state without the consent of its authorities, and with the purpose of preventing widespread suffering or death among the inhabitants."1
Some commentators argue that the term "intervention" should cover the deployment of both "solicited" and "unsolicited" military force. Here, however, the emphasis is only on the unsolicited type, defined as the absence of effective consent. This absence is clearest when there is explicit opposition from the government (in Iraq, the former Yugoslavia, and Rwanda). Because "the existence of de facto control is generally the most important criterion in dealing with a regime as representing the state,"2 consent was controversial and of little practical meaning in several cases (Liberia, Haiti, and Sierra Leone) and irrelevant in one case (Somalia). The case of East Timor is included because consent was ambiguous -it emanated from an illegal occupying power, after significant international pressure that verged on coercion.
The second general criterion is the prominence of a humanitarian justification employed by intervening states. The definition of "humanitarian" refers to the threat or actual occurrence of large scale loss of life (especially genocide), massive forced migration, and widespread abuses of human rights; it does not, however, include the overthrow of a democratically elected government, unless one of the results is large scale loss of life. As motivations are inevitably mixed, the humanitarian rationale need not be exclusive, but it should be explicit. In some of the cases, other justifications predominated - regional-security concerns in Liberia or the nature of the target regime in Haiti - but responding to the needs of populations at risk remained clearly evident. Using these criteria, eight cases from the 1990s, summarized in Table 5.1, are treated chronologically. The table also distinguishes the nature of their authorization under three categories: those authorized by the United Nations (UN) Security Council under Chapter VII of the Charter, those authorizations delegated to regional arrangements under Chapter VIII, and those not authorized by the Security Council.3 Of the military interventions that were undertaken between 1990 and 2000, all were accompanied by sanctions and embargoes. International criminal prosecution has also been employed in several of the more recent cases.
Country |
Chapter VII Authorization and UN Mission |
Chapter VII Authorization Delegated |
No Initial Security Council Authorization |
| Liberia | |||
| 1990-1997 | ECOMOG | ||
| Northern Iraq | |||
| 1991- | Coalition | Coalition | |
| Former Yugoslavia | |||
| 1992- | UNPROFOR | IFOR and SFOR | |
| Somalia | |||
| 1992-1993 | UNOSOM II | UNITAF | |
| Rwanda | |||
| 1994-1996 | UNAMIR II | Opération Turquoise | |
| Haiti | |||
| 1994-1997 | UNMH | MNF | |
| Sierra Leone | |||
| 1997- | UNAMSIL | ECOMOG | |
| Kosovo | |||
| 1999- | KFOR | NATO | |
| East Timor | |||
| 1999- | UNAMET | INTERFET |
Note: ECOMOG, ECOWAS Monitoring Group; IFOR, Implementation Force; INTERFET, International Force in East Timor; KFOR, Kosovo Force; MNF, Multinational Force; NATO, North Atlantic Treaty Organization; SFOR, Stabilization Force; UNAMET, UN Mission in East Timor; UNAMIR, UN Assistance Mission in Rwanda; UNAMSIL, UN Mission in Sierra Leone; UNITAF, Unified Task Force; UNMH, UN Mission in Haiti; UNOSOM, UN Operation in Somalia; UNPROFOR, UN Protection Force.
One or both of the criteria were absent in outside military operations in several countries in the 1990s, and these operations are therefore not included here. Meaningful consent, for example, was expressed and justified the Russian military efforts in Georgia and Tajikistan and the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) in Tajikistan. Furthermore, these efforts were not based on explicitly humanitarian justifications. Similarly, three interventions in Africa had the consent of democratically elected governments, and again humanitarian concerns were not paramount. These were as follows: in 1998, in Guinea-Bissau, the Senegalese, Guinean, and the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) efforts; in 1997, in the Central African Republic, Inter-African Force to Monitor the Implementation of the Bangui Agreements (MISAB); and in 1998, in Lesotho, the South African and Botswanan efforts in accordance with agreements of the Southern African Development Community (SADC).4 Italy intervened in Albania in 1996 for humanitarian reasons, but with Tirana's consent.
Liberia has a remarkable democratic history; between 1847 and 1980, a series of 20 democratically elected presidents ruled the country. After long-term mass public discontent, William V.S. Tubman was assassinated on April 12, 1980, and his government was overthrown by a coup d'état conducted by junior elements of the Armed Forces of Liberia (AFL), led by Master Sergeant Samuel K. Doe. In 1989, Doe's autocracy was toppled by a popular but excessively destructive insurgency, spearheaded by the National Patriotic Front of Liberia (NPFL), led by Charles M.G. Taylor, who in 1997 was elected the 22nd president of Liberia.
The Liberian Civil War began in 1989, when Taylor and a group of so-called dissidents launched an attack against AFL security personnel in Nimba county (located on the Liberian-Côte d'Ivoire border) and advanced toward the capital city of Monrovia. The NPFL proceeded to crush then president Doe's AFL. By May 1990, the NPFL controlled significantly more territory than Doe, whose presidential authority was limited to the capital, Monrovia
The ALF suffered enormous losses on the battlefield, which led Doe to appeal for assistance to the UN5 and the United States (US) government.6 Finally, on July 14, 1990, he appealed to ECOWAS to introduce a "peace-keeping force into Liberia to forestall increasing terror and tension."7 However, at the time of the request, Doe's regime had collapsed, was clearly not in de facto control of the country, and lacked both domestic and international legitimacy.
On August 7, 1990, the ECOWAS Standing Mediation Commission - comprised of the Gambia, Ghana, Nigeria, and Togo - met in Banjul and agreed to establish the ECOWAS Cease-fire Monitoring Group (ECOMOG) in Liberia. The objectives were to institute a cease-fire, form an interim government, and hold democratic elections. Concern was also expressed about the wanton destruction of human life and property.8 ECOMOG's force commander was mandated to "conduct military operations for the purpose of monitoring the cease-fire, restoring law and order to create the necessary conditions for free and fair elections."9
The ECOMOG intervention in Liberia was controversial. The majority of francophone members of ECOWAS were not enthusiastic - in particular, Côte d'Ivoire and Burkina Faso - and believed that "such a force could only prevent an imminent victory for the NPFL whose cause they had given implicit support."10 Moreover, in consonance with historical anglophone-francophone divisions in the region, several ECOWAS members were concerned about Nigeria's domination of the initiative. President Ibrahim Babangida also came under fire in Nigeria, as many believed that he was attempting to divert attention from domestic issues and that the intervention required resources that the country could ill-afford.
The legal basis for ECOWAS's intervention in Liberia was dubious. There was obviously no Security Council authorization, and the decision to intervene made no mention of Doe's request. Furthermore, the ECOWAS Treaty of 1975 did not provide for a regional-security mechanism to deal with internal conflicts - nor did the 1978 Protocol on Non-Aggression. The 1981 Protocol on Mutual Assistance on Defence, came closest, indicating in Article 18 that internal armed conflict that is likely to endanger security and peace in the community would be dealt with by the authority of the member states concerned.
On August 24, 1990, approximately 2,000 ECOMOG forces landed in Liberia to forestall the state from descending further into anarchy. The bulk of the troops were from Nigeria; however, other states - including the Gambia, Ghana, Guinea, and Sierra Leone - also contributed troops. The NPFL, which by then controlled approximately 90 percent of the country, attacked ECOMOG forces on their arrival. Although ECOMOG was able to push the rebels back into the bush and restore law and order in Monrovia, it was unable to establish authority in the interior.
After securing Monrovia, ECOWAS unsuccessfully resumed its efforts to negotiate a cease-fire and peace agreement between the NPFL, various splinter factions, and Doe's government. Consequently, on August 29, 1990, ECOWAS assisted Liberians to organize a National Conference of All Liberian Political Parties, Patriotic Fronts, Interest Groups and Concerned Citizens in Banjul. The purpose of the conference was to create an interim government, because of the total breakdown of law and order. Both Taylor and Doe boycotted the conference, and the former refused to recognize the new interim government. On September 9, 1990, nearly one week after the conference, members of the Independent National Patriotic Front of Liberia, an NPFL splinter group headed by Prince Yormie Johnson, ambushed and kidnapped Doe from ECOWAS headquarters and later murdered him.
In January 1991, five months after ECOMOG forces landed in Liberia, a Security Council presidential statement "commend[ed]" ECOWAS's efforts to promote peace in Liberia and "called upon all parties to the conflict to respect the cease-fire agreement." On October 30, 1991, the parties to the conflict signed an agreement at Yamoussoukro that called for the encampment and disarmament of warring factions and the establishment of transitional institutions to carry out free and fair elections.11 It took nearly a year before ECOMOG was able to deploy troops in all areas held by the factions.
The disarmament plans fell apart on September 8, 1992, when the NPFL tortured and killed ECOMOG troops. In response, ECOMOG adopted a far more robust approach. At times, it "seemed less like a ‘peace-making force' and more like an unintended party to the conflict."12
On November 19, 1992, the UN Security Council adopted Resolution 788, stating that the "deterioration of the situation in Liberia constitutes a threat to international peace and security, particularly in West Africa as a whole." Resolution 788 called for a complete weapons embargo against Liberia - authorizing ECOWAS to enforce its terms under Chapter VIII of the UN Charter. The ECOMOG enforcement action came to an end with the signing of the Cotonou Accord in July 1993, which ushered in another peacekeeping phase, including contingents from Tanzania and Uganda. On September 22, 1993, the Security Council adopted resolution 866, which called for the creation of the UN Observer Mission in Liberia (UNOMIL), stating that "this would be the first peace-keeping mission undertaken by the United Nations in cooperation with a peacekeeping mission already set up by another organization, in this case ECOWAS."13 This operation was intended to complement the ECOMOG effort to restore order and disarm rival factions, by ensuring that the process was conducted impartially.
Therefore, "it can be said that Resolutions 788 and 866 placed a retroactive seal on the ECOWAS intervention," especially considering that, between January 22, 1991, and November 27, 1996, a series of Security Council resolutions and presidential statements commended ECOWAS for its efforts. The Secretary-General also created a Special Emergency Fund to assist countries that contributed to this ECOWAS operation.
It took ECOWAS another five years, until August 1995, to broker an agreement that was widely believed to have a chance of success. It was the 13th such accord, though it was also the first to involve all the factions, and it had the support of other local political and civic organizations.14 On April 6, 1996, hopes for peace were dashed, however, when Monrovia erupted in bloody conflict after the police attempted to arrest Roosevelt Johnson, a former leader of a faction of the United Liberation Movement of Liberia for Democracy (ULIMO).
The human costs were overwhelming. Atrocities were committed against civilians, including children, which also led to the evacuation of virtually all humanitarian personnel from the former safe haven, where shelter had been provided for some 1.2 million internally displaced persons (IDPs). Warlords looted ECOMOG and UN offices and supplies. When ECOMOG troops eventually managed to separate the armed factions and gain a measure of control over the city in June 1996, health workers recovered more than 1,500 bodies from shallow graves.15
A subsequent rapprochement between Taylor and the Nigerian ruler, General Sani Abacha, paved the way for all-party peace talks and UN-observed elections in July 1997. Taylor amassed 75 percent of the vote. The UN welcomed the elections, and the Security Council called on all parties to abide by the results and cooperate in the formation of a new government. It also called on the government to protect the "democratic" system and promote human rights and fundamental freedoms under the rule of law.16 Thereafter, UNOMIL began to withdraw from Liberia, a process completed by September 1997. The new government and ECOWAS agreed that ECOMOG should remain in the country to provide security, particularly during the repatriation of refugees.
Over the course of the conflict 785,000 of Liberia's 2.5 million citizens became refugees (420,000 in Guinea, 320,000 in Côte d'Ivoire, 20,000 in Ghana, 20,000 in Sierra Leone, and 5,000 in Nigeria). And at least 200,000 Liberians were killed between the start of the conflict in 1989 and the signing of the peace accord in August 1995. In total, ECOMOG operations cost Nigeria more than $1 billion, and 500 of its troops lost their lives. At the same time, it set a precedent for humanitarian intervention by an African subregional organization.
On August 2, 1990, an Iraqi force of 120,000 troops invaded, illegally occupied, and annexed Kuwait. The invasion was met with universal disapproval. Just 11 hours later, the Security Council condemned the invasion in Resolution 660 (1990) and demanded Iraq's immediate and unconditional withdrawal. Four days later, the Council adopted Resolution 661 (1990), imposing comprehensive mandatory sanctions on Iraq. These included a ban on all trade, an oil embargo, the suspension of international flights, an arms embargo, a freeze of Iraqi Government financial assets, and a prohibition on financial transactions. On August 25, the Council called on member states to impose a sea blockade in consonance with Resolution 665 (1990). A month later, it decided in Resolution 670 (1990) that member states should block all aviation links with Iraq. Within days, a major humanitarian crisis arose, as some 850,000 third-country nationals and 300,000 Palestinians from Iraq and Kuwait fled, primarily to Jordan.
As sanctions were progressively tightened, the US and other countries began to deploy substantial military forces in the region. By late October 1990, Iraq had occupied Kuwait for more than two months, and a consensus was emerging between the US and the Soviet Union that some form of enforcement action might be authorized by the Security Council. In the course of negotiations, a senior US State Department official was quoted as saying that "[l]egally, our position and the position shared by others is that Article 51 provides a sufficient basis under international law for further action." A Council resolution authorizing some specific military action would, however, "provide a firmer political basis." There was little serious discussion of establishing an independent UN force; rather, the preferred action would put coalition forces under a UN "umbrella."
On a visit to Moscow in November, US Secretary of State James Baker lobbied for such a resolution, pointing to Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev's 1987 Pravda article on enhancing the UN's role.17 Gorbachev suggested that the Council pass two resolutions: the first, adopted in late November, would authorize force after a six-week grace period; the second would provide the actual go-ahead. Baker proposed a single resolution, with a grace period before it would become operative. When he met the Soviet Foreign Minister Eduard Shevardnadze in Paris on November 18, Washington believed it had the votes for a resolution, but Moscow demurred. Among other concerns, Shevardnadze insisted that the actual word "force" not be used. Baker came up with five different euphemisms, finally settling on the phrase "all necessary means."18
On November 29, the Security Council adopted Resolution 678 (1990) by 12 votes to 2 (Cuba and Yemen), with China abstaining. In its operative paragraph, the Security Council "[a]uthorises Member States co-operating with the Government of Kuwait, unless Iraq on or before 15 January 1991 fully implements the foregoing resolutions, to use all necessary means to uphold and implement Resolution 660 (1990) and all subsequent relevant resolutions and to restore international peace and security in the area."
As the coalition commenced the air campaign that heralded Operation Desert Storm in January and February 1991, a number of states sought to bring about a last-minute peaceful resolution to the conflict. Under a plan proposed by the Soviet Union, the trade embargo on Iraq would have been lifted once two-thirds of Iraqi troops left Kuwait, with remaining sanctions to be lifted when the withdrawal was complete. The proposal was rejected by the US and the United Kingdom (UK), which asserted that they had the power to maintain sanctions for as long as they chose and to continue the war authorized by the Security Council until it adopted another resolution. As permanent members of the Council, they reserved the right to veto any such compromise.19
After a six-week air war that destroyed most of Iraq's military capabilities and much of the country's infrastructure, the ground war commenced on February 24, 1991. Some 500,000 coalition troops and personnel from 28 countries liberated Kuwait and occupied much of southern Iraq in only four days. Coalition forces entered Kuwait City on February 27; a cease-fire commenced at midnight on February 28.
Coalition aircraft had penetrated deep into Iraq, targeting bridges, electric plants, and infrastructure sites for other essential services. In all, they dropped more than 90,000 tons of explosives. The overwhelming superiority in air power contributed to wartime Iraqi military deaths, estimated at between 30,000 and 120,000, while several hundred died on the coalition side. Estimates suggest that 3,000 to 3,500 Iraqi civilians died during the conflict, with many more dying subsequently, owing to a combination of the damaged infrastructure and the harsh sanctions regime.20 The costs of the operation are usually estimated at $60-70 billion.
One of the more controversial humanitarian aspects of international actions against Iraq results from more than 10 years of economic sanctions. They were designed to remain in effect until two conditions were met: Iraq's stockpiles of weapons of mass destruction were destroyed; and its treatment of minorities improved. Sanctions are still in place, as is the regime. As economic sanctions seemed to target the poor and vulnerable, without having any visible impact on the government and its policies, a new question arose: How much pain is the community of states willing to inflict on civilians in a quest for doubtful political gains?
During the military campaign against Iraq in 1991, US President George Bush publicly expressed his hope that Iraqi citizens would "take matters into their own hands" and remove Saddam Hussein from power. The apparently crushing defeat of the Iraqi Army and foreign support reignited the desire for independence among Kurds living in northern Iraq. Previous revolts had been brutally suppressed by Saddam Hussein's Ba'ath regime, with measures including the use of chemical weapons. On this occasion, Iraqi troops attacked Kurdish villages, forcing up to 2 million civilians to flee their homes, virtually overnight. By April 5, 1991, Turkey estimated that almost 1 million people were attempting to reach safety by crossing its borders.21
The Security Council expressed concern about the treatment of the Kurds in northern Iraq, along with the Shi'ites and Marsh Arabs in the south, at a meeting on April 3, 1991. Resolution 687 (1991) provided the terms of the cease-fire with Iraq and conditions for lifting sanctions, but conspicuously it failed to mention the plight of Iraq's civilian population. This absence subsequently has led to debate about the legality of measures under Council Resolution 688 (1991), which was agreed on only two days later.
Resolution 688 condemned the repression of the civilian population, demanded that Iraq end it, and insisted that the country allow international humanitarian organizations immediate access to all those in need of assistance in all parts of Iraq. The Council also appealed to all member states and aid organizations "to contribute to these humanitarian relief efforts." The strong language of the resolution was reminiscent of Chapter VII,22 but none of the states voting for the resolution characterized it as such at the time. Washington noted that it planned to use military aircraft to drop food, blankets, clothing, tents, and other relief into northern Iraq. On the same day that the Security Council passed Resolution 688, Bush announced plans to commence aid drops to Kurds in northern Iraq in cooperation with France and the UK, emphasizing that the US would not intervene militarily in the conflict.23
As the diplomacy continued in New York, dramatic television images captured the plight of an exodus of some 2 million displaced persons exposed to the brutal conditions of winter in the mountains. An estimated 10,000 to 30,000 died of exposure and malnutrition in the squalid camps that sprouted virtually overnight. At least partially as a result of the images, governments reacted; observers began to point to the importance of the "CNN effect" or "BBC effect." Whatever the proximate trigger, President Bush reversed his previous policy and committed US troops to set up encampments in northern Iraq to ensure the safety of Kurdish refugees and coordinate relief supplies.
Turkey was one of the first states to propose the idea of safe havens for the Kurds.24The rationale behind its support for the creation of these safe havens was Ankara's concern for political stability in the southeast. In particular, the influx of additional Kurds threatened to exacerbate an already unstable political situation related to the separatist movement within Turkey. Secretary of State Baker affirmed the importance of the Kurds being free from threats and persecution but reiterated the US position that it would not "go down the slippery slope of being sucked into a civil war."25
European governments were less reticent in their support for more direct action. France had long advocated a bolder response to the Kurdish crisis, but the first concrete proposal came from the UK. Speaking at the Luxembourg summit meeting of the European Community (EC) on April 8, 1991, UK Prime Minister John Major proposed the creation of UN-protected Kurdish enclaves in northern Iraq. He stated that the proposal was intended to "build on" Resolutions 687 and 688: "We believe the rubric exists within 688 to avoid the need for a separate resolution but clearly we will need to discuss that in New York."26
The initial US response to the proposed safe havens was lukewarm, but it stressed its determination to protect the relief effort. On April 10, it demanded that the Iraqi Government cease all military activity north of the 36th parallel, to enable relief supplies to be delivered unimpeded and to prevent attacks on Kurdish refugees. The choice of this line excluded the oil-producing area around Kirkuk (a town claimed by Kurdish separatists), apparently in an attempt to avoid encouraging Kurdish secession.27
As it became clear that relief efforts were severely restricted by the geography of the Turkey-Iraq border, Bush stated on April 16 that, "consistent with" Resolution 688, US troops would enter northern Iraq: "Some might argue that this is an intervention into the internal affairs of Iraq. But I think the humanitarian concern, the refugee concern, is so overwhelming that there will be a lot of understanding about this."28
On April 18, twelve military relief flights (9 US, 2 UK, and 1 French) dropped almost 58 tons of relief supplies to refugees on the Turkey-Iraq border. This coincided with the signing of a Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) between the UN and Iraq, allowing the world organization to administer a civilian "humanitarian presence" throughout Iraq. In less than a week, nearly 6,000 tons of supplies had been dropped to the refugees. Toward the end of April, death rates among refugees had fallen from between 400 and 1,000 to about 60 deaths per day. By April 24, approximately 2,000 US Marines and several hundred British, French, and Dutch troops were stationed in northern Iraq. At the peak of the humanitarian operation, there were more than 20,000 soldiers from 13 states in the theatre.
These early efforts focused on the Turkey-Iraq border, in part as a result of Western and especially US reluctance to cooperate with Iran, even though the Islamic Republic had by then received more Kurdish refugees and spent more on them than any other state.29
By mid-July, most of the 1 million Kurds who had fled to Turkey in March had returned. With the withdrawal of coalition troops used as a bargaining chip, Iraq consented to the presence of the 500-strong lightly armed UN Guard Contingent in Iraq, signing an Annex to the MOU on May 25, 1991.30 The last allied soldiers departed Iraq on July 15, 1991, leaving behind a multinational rapid-deployment force in Turkey, as a warning to Baghdad.
The US and its allies continued to police the no-fly zone and, on August 26, 1992, also declared a second air exclusion zone in southern Iraq, below the 32nd parallel. The US in particular justified its actions by referring to Resolution 688, which did not specifically mention southern Iraq.31 This second zone was subsequently extended to the 33rd parallel in September 1996, a move that prompted France to refuse to patrol the extended area and later to withdraw entirely.
No consistent legal rationale was given for the no-fly zones, and many countries and observers have contested the actual legality of the enforcement effort, which continues as of this writing. Given the likelihood of a Chinese veto, no specific authorization measures were ever proposed in the Council. Later, when the objective was to transfer responsibility for the humanitarian effort to the UN, a Chapter VII resolution was not necessary. The second no-fly zone and subsequent air attacks seemed to have set a precedent, whereby new military measures took place without specific additional Security Council authorization.32
No Security Council member voting in favour of Resolution 688 publicly challenged the view that Operation Provide Comfort was "consistent with" the resolution.33 The G7's London Economic Summit Political Declaration on Strengthening the International Order expressed broad statements of support. As the months wore into years, however, calls for a reassessment of the policy became more frequent and widespread.
Throughout this period, Washington continued to assert its right to enforce the no-fly zones. Following the January 1993 air strike on Iraqi missile launchers, the UN Secretary-General issued an ambiguous statement that, "I can say that this action was taken and conforms to the resolutions of the Security Council and conforms to the Charter of the United Nations."34 What status should be accorded a pronouncement by the Secretary-General is unclear, particularly because it was inconsistent with the justifications proposed by the acting states (the UK claimed the incident was an act of self-defence, while France criticized the US for exceeding its mandate). By relying on the terms of the cease-fire resolution (which did not mention the Kurds), the Secretary-General's statement omitted any reference to the plight of Iraqi minorities that presumably provided the raison d'être for the no-fly zones.
Ultimately, the benefits of the safe havens are uncertain; Kurds in northern Iraq live precariously, as they did before the Gulf War. But at least they have returned home and enjoy some degree of protection from the brutish Iraqi regime. The innovation of safe havens remains a lasting legacy of the intervention in northern Iraq, though the significance is diminished because of the outright failure of safe havens elsewhere. In the eyes of many critics, there remains considerable cynicism about the motivations of the major powers. Again, colonial memories quickly come to the surface. Many developing countries question whether Security Council resolutions can be applied to pursue a different agenda than what many states actually had intended - in this case, a US-UK vendetta against the continued presence in power of Saddam Hussein.
Following the Second World War and under the direction of Marshal Tito, the "People's Federal Republic of Yugoslavia" was formed from Serbia, Montenegro, Croatia, Slovenia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Macedonia. After Tito's death and the economic hardships and structural adjustments of the 1980s, strident nationalism tore the republic apart. Between June and October 1991, four of the six republics comprising Yugoslavia declared their independence. Croatia and Slovenia first made unilateral declarations on June 25, 1991, after internal referenda. War broke out almost immediately. In the early months of the fighting, the EC played a leading role; when it was unable to secure a cease-fire by mid-September, Austria, Canada, and Hungary requested a Security Council session, which adopted Resolution 713 (1991). It expressed concern that the "continuation of this situation constitutes a threat to international peace and security" and imposed a blanket arms embargo under Chapter VII of the UN Charter. Only Yugoslavia's consent to the resolution avoided a Chinese veto.35
A month later, Bosnia and Herzegovina proclaimed its independence, on October 15. Cease-fires were brokered and broken, and on December 15 the Council adopted Resolution 724 (1991), in which it strengthened the Chapter VII arms embargo and sought to lay the ground for a peacekeeping operation. December also saw the EC agree in principle to recognize the breakaway republics of the former Yugoslavia, with Germany formally recognizing Croatia and Slovenia on December 23 and the rest of the EC following suit on January 15, 1992. Bosnia and Herzegovina conducted a referendum and proclaimed its formal independence on March 3, 1992. On May 22, 1992, Croatia, Slovenia, and Bosnia and Herzegovina were extended UN membership.
The "birth" of the new states was painful. Only in Slovenia, where there were few Serbs, was the violence of a short duration. Within the former Republic of Croatia, there was a significant Serbian minority, which had bitter memories of internal repression by Croat fascists during the Second World War. Croatian Serbs held a referendum and declared the Serb Autonomous Region of Krajina accompanied by an expressed intention to join with Serbia. By the end of the year, some 6,000 to 10,000 civilians were dead, and another 10,000 were wounded. Croats were displaced by Serbs in the Krajina, and Croats displaced Serbs elsewhere. The siege and destruction of the Croatian town of Vukovar shocked the world's conscience and was viewed by many as a harbinger of the lengths to which Belgrade would go to establish "a Greater Serbia." It also produced an estimated 100,000 refugees. Months later, it was estimated that 250,000 Serbs and 100,000 Croats had been displaced by the initial round of fighting.
The cease-fire in Slovenia permitted the war in Bosnia to begin in earnest. A remarkable multiethnic fabric (about 45 percent Muslim, 18 percent Croat, and 32 percent Serb) was soon ripped into shreds. The Croats sided with Croatia, the Serbs with the remaining Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (FRY), and the Muslims were on their own. In military terms, they were particularly disadvantaged because most of the equipment (about 85 percent) of the former Yugoslav National Army went to the FRY, and the rest went to Croatia. Aided by its location on the sea, Croatia was able to avoid an arms embargo, procuring arms illegally.
Beginning in mid-1992, images of the pallid faces of emaciated people appeared behind the barbed-wire fences of concentration camps. This unsettled a continent, whose collective conscience recalled similar images of the Holocaust and the haunting slogan, "never again." The practice of ridding a territory of the unwanted members of another ethnic group - by threats of violence, as well as rape and murder - came to be known as "ethnic cleansing." While all sides engaged in atrocities, the Muslim population endured the brunt of such acts. The ethnic breakdown in victims can be somewhat accurately surmised from the ethnic breakdown of the first individuals indicted by the international tribunal in The Hague: about 70 percent Serb, 25 percent Croat, and 5 percent Muslim.
On May 30, the Council imposed, by Resolution 757 (1992), broad sanctions on the FRY (Serbia and Montenegro). The resolution banned all international trade, prohibited air travel, blocked financial transactions, banned sporting and cultural exchanges, and suspended scientific and technical cooperation. In November, this was extended to prohibit transshipment of goods through the FRY, by Resolution 787 (1992). Resolution 820, of April 17, 1993, further tightened the sanctions.
The UN Protection Force (UNPROFOR) for the former Yugoslavia was initially established by the Security Council in February 1992, as a peacekeeping operation with the consent of the FRY and other governments, in Resolution 743 (1992). As the situation deteriorated, its mandate was expanded from monitoring demilitarization in so-called UN protected areas in Croatia to conducting more complex security operations and protecting aid workers and convoys in Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina.
Then, in 1993, the Security Council established "safe areas" around five Bosnian towns and the city of Sarajevo in Resolutions 819 (1993) and 824 (1993). The original proposal to create such havens, made in August 1992 by then president of the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), Cornelio Sommaruga, contained numerous provisions that were ignored in the actual implementation: demilitarization, continued negotiations, and well-defined geographic areas adequately protected with military force. UNPROFOR was given an ambitious but ambiguous mandate to protect them in Resolution 836 (1993):
The Security Council authorizes [UNPROFOR] acting in self-defence, to take the necessary measures, including the use of force, in reply to bombardments against the safe areas by any of the parties or to armed incursion into them or in the event of any deliberate obstruction in or around those areas to the freedom of movement of UNPROFOR or of protected humanitarian convoys.
While UNPROFOR operated on the ground, an apparently general authorization was given to member states to take "all necessary measures, through the use of air power" to support ground forces in and around designated safe areas. Though unclear in the text itself, the decision to initiate the use of air power was to be taken by the Secretary-General, in consultation with the members of the Security Council.36
This served to deter attacks in the short term, but air power was ultimately ineffective because Western states were unwilling to put their vulnerable peacekeepers at risk. More-over, "dual-key" decision making meant that the Special Representative of the Secretary-General (SRSG) and the force commander had to agree to initiate coercive military responses. When Srebrenica was overrun by the Bosnian Serbs in 1995, it became synonymous with the disparity between Council rhetoric and resolve.37
Another enforcement tack was taken in Resolution 827 of May 25, 1993, which established an international criminal tribunal to prosecute persons responsible for serious violations of international humanitarian law (IHL) committed in the territory of the FRY between January 1, 1991, and "a date to be determined by the Security Council upon the restoration of peace." The Yugoslav tribunal's indictments of the two most visible and notorious Bosnian Serb personalities - the politician, Radovan Karadzic, and the military leader, Ratko Mladic - at least served to exclude indicted war criminals from subsequent peace negotiations in Dayton, Ohio, in 1995.38 Nonetheless, they have not yet been brought to trial, or even arrested, along with 25 other indicted war criminals hiding or even living openly either in Bosnia or Serbia. However, Bosnian Serb General Radislav Krstic, who was responsible for Europe's worst massacres since the Second World War, the systematic execution of more than 7,000 unarmed men and boys near Srebrenica, was the first convicted on a charge of genocide in the wars that broke up the former Yugoslavia.
Impartiality was the bedrock for successful peacekeeping operations during the Cold War, but such principles and the accompanying UN culture and command structures were particularly ill-suited when there was no peace to keep. The return of concentration camps and large scale human displacement in Europe provided graphic evidence of the frailty of multiethnic states and the need to apply deadly force to halt violence against civilians. The UN's mixing of consensual and nonconsensual activities was unworkable. The world organization had no comparative advantage in warfare or even the robust use of military force. The apparent success of North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) air strikes and the Croatian military offensive in August and September 1995 reinforced this view, when they succeeded in coercing the parties to negotiate at Dayton, Ohio, in November 1995. The subsequent Dayton Peace Agreement was implemented and maintained by the Implementation Force (IFOR) and Stabilization Force (SFOR).
IFOR was deployed in Bosnia six days after the signing in Paris of the Dayton Peace Accords, on December 14, 1995. Earlier resolutions on Bosnia had authorized member states to act nationally or "through regional arrangements," but this was the first delegation stricto sensu. Under the Dayton agreement, the parties "invited" the Security Council to adopt the resolution to establish IFOR.39 Resolution 1031 (1995) authorized member states "acting through or in co-operation with the organization referred to in Annex 1-A of the Peace Agreement [sc. NATO] under unified command and control" to take "all necessary measures to effect the implementation of and to ensure compliance with Annex 1-A of the Peace Agreement." NATO was not explicitly mentioned in the text of the resolution, nor in Resolution 1088 (1996) establishing SFOR as IFOR's legal successor.
Ultimately, protection for affected populations was problematic, to say the least. As many as 200,000 to 230,000 people died during UNPROFOR's watch, prior to Dayton. At the same time, there were positive results. Humanitarian succour was provided over the four years to some 4.3 million victims - more than 850,000 refugees, 1.6 million IDPs, and 1.8 million additional war-affected people. Despite the clear incompatibility between consensual and nonconsensual operations, at least the war aims of the Bosnian Serbs and of the FRY for a "Greater Serbia" were frustrated. The mission also pointed to the difficulty in protecting safe areas without the deployment of significant ground forces and a genuine willingness to use air power.
The cumulative costs of poverty and a pattern of corrupt rule came together in tragedy shortly after the end of the Cold War in Somalia. In the power vacuum that followed the January 1991 ousting of President Mohammed Siad Barre, this ethnically, linguistically, and religiously homogeneous country imploded into clan-based civil war. Talks held in June and July 1991 led to the Djibouti Accords and the appointment of Ali Mahdi Mohamed as in-terim president. But the leader of a rival faction, General Mohamed Farah Aideed, rejected the accords. From November 1991 onward, heavy fighting persisted in the capital, Mogadishu.
On December 23, 1991, ICRC President Cornelio Sommaruga wrote to outgoing UN Secretary-General Javier Pérez de Cuéllar, requesting UN action, and followed it up with a visit to newly elected Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali early in January. In mid-January, the ICRC publicly reported that hundreds of thousands of refugees from the conflict were on the brink of starvation in camps south of the capital. The office of the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) reported in late January that 140,000 Somali refugees had reached Kenya, with another 700 arriving each day.
On January 23, 1992, the Security Council imposed Resolution 733, a Chapter VII arms embargo against Somalia. By March, an effective cease-fire had not been implemented. In light of the immediate threat posed by severe food shortages to a large proportion of Somalia's population, the Secretary-General reported that implementation of a planned relief programme should proceed, with the consequences of obstructing it made clear to the leaders of the two main armed factions.40 On March 17, 1992, the Security Council unanimously adopted Resolution 746 (1992), which - though not under Chapter VII - stated that the Council was "deeply disturbed by the magnitude of the human suffering caused by the conflict and concerned that the continuation of the situation in Somalia constitutes a threat to international peace and security." In the discussion on Resolution 746, the Council's primary concern appears to have been the effect of the war on the provision of humanitarian assistance to the starving population, with only passing reference to the massive flow of refugees.41
The situation continued to deteriorate throughout 1992. The first UN Operation in Somalia (UNOSOM I) was deployed with the consent of the two leading factions in April. Because the force was comprised of only 500 soldiers and there existed no governing authority capable of maintaining law and order, the force was unable to implement its basic peacekeeping mandate. The provision of 3,500 UNOSOM security personnel for the protection of humanitarian relief efforts was approved in August, through Resolution 775 (1992), but deployment was slow and the situation worsened by the day. By October 1992, the Secretary-General reported that almost 4.5 million of Somalia's 6 million population were threatened by severe malnutrition and related diseases. Of those, at least 1.5 million were at immediate mortal risk. An estimated 300,000 had already died in the preceding 11 months.42
On November 29, Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali advised the Council that the only way that relief operations could continue was through resort to enforcement provisions under Chapter VII of the Charter, combined with parallel action to promote national reconciliation and remove the main factors that created the human emergency.43 This recommendation came four days after an offer from the US to provide 20,000 troops as part of a multinational force authorized by the UN, owing in some part to the unprecedented media exposure given to the humanitarian disaster.44
On December 3, 1992, the Council unanimously adopted Resolution 794 (1992). Though recognizing the "unique character" of the situation, it stated that the "magnitude of the human tragedy caused by the conflict in Somalia, further exacerbated by the obstacles being created to the distribution of humanitarian assistance, constitutes a threat to international peace and security." In response, the Council, "[a]cting under Chapter VII authorises the Secretary-General and Member States cooperating to implement the offer [by the United States to organize and lead an operation] to use all necessary means to establish as soon as possible a secure environment for humanitarian relief operations in Somalia."
Twenty-four hours later, outgoing US President George Bush ordered 28,000 troops into Somalia in Operation Restore Hope (also known as Unified Task Force, or UNITAF) to ensure the safe delivery of international assistance. The primary concern of the Security Council, as expressed in statements before and after the vote, was the delivery of humanitarian aid. In explanation of its vote, Washington stressed the essentially peaceful and limited character of the operation and that the action represented an important step toward a "post-Cold War world order."45 China - which had cast its first affirmative vote for an enforcement resolution - and the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM) emphasized the unique character of the crisis and the role given to the Secretary-General and the Security Council.46 Secretary-General Boutros-Ghali later stated that the Security Council had "established a precedent in the history of the United Nations: it decided for the first time to intervene militarily for strictly humanitarian purposes."47
On May 4, 1993, the US formally handed over to a second UN operation, UNOSOM II. The prior military operation, led by the remaining superpower, had been narrowly conceived. Now the UN's expanded mandate in Resolution 814 (1993) specified a host of activities categorically rejected by the US, including nation-building, disarming the factions, and arresting leaders such as General Aideed. Twenty-four Pakistani soldiers were killed on June 5 while inspecting weapons dumps in accordance with the expanded mandate. The next day, the Security Council passed Resolution 837 (1993), reaffirming that the Secretary-General was authorized to "take all necessary measures against those responsible for the armed attacks to establish the effective authority of UNOSOM II throughout Somalia, including to secure the investigation of their actions and their arrest and detention for prosecution, trial and punishment."
This was tantamount to a declaration of war against Aideed's militia. A series of confrontations between a heavily reinforced UNOSOM II and the militia continued through the summer. The most infamous was the "Olympic Hotel battle" on October 3, 1993, when US Rangers and Delta commandos, who remained under US command and control, made an unsuccessful attempt to capture Aideed. Three US Black Hawk helicopters were downed and 18 Americans died, as did one of the Malaysians who came to extract them. At least 500 and as many as 1,000 Somalis - many of them civilians - were killed in the firefight. The dead US pilots being dragged through the streets to jeering crowds of onlookers became an enduring image of the risks of humanitarian impulses. Those who saw a "CNN effect" encouraging intervention also saw the impacts of unpalatable images forcing the withdrawal of military forces.
Within days, President Clinton set a pullout date for US troops for the following March. UNOSOM II was more ambitious than the earlier US-led UNITAF effort, but it had fewer warfighting resources. And by March 28, 1995, the complete withdrawal of UN troops had been completed, although few of UNOSOM II's mandated objectives had, in fact, been achieved.48
The mission was not without its successes. The impact of the famine was alleviated, as probably only 50,000 to 100,000 of the 1.5 million menaced by starvation actually died. Virtually the entire population of 5 million people received assistance. Half of the 1.5 million people driven from their homes returned a year later. The estimated 400-500,000 who died in the two years preceding the UNITAF intervention at least were not replicated, although there were an estimated 10,000 Somali casualties during the UNITAF and UNOSOM II operations.
But the post-1995 country remained for many the epitome of a failed state, essentially without a functioning central government and a breakaway quasi-independent Somaliland to the north. A former SRSG, Mohamed Sahnoun, argues that Somalia provides ample evidence "of how the failure of the international community to intervene in different phases of a crisis can be detrimental and lead to further deterioration."49 Moreover, from a humanitarian point of view a paradox emerged: the costs of the military intervention ($1 billion for UNITAF and $1.6 billion for UNOSOM II) dwarfed humanitarian and development efforts by at least 10 to 1.
In macro-political terms, the "Somalia syndrome" became shorthand for the growing reluctance of Western countries to sustain military casualties in distant lands in the pursuit of fundamentally humanitarian objectives. Other "dirty words" entered the international public policy lexicon, including the difficulty of "nation-building," wariness about "mission creep," and the emphasis on a predetermined "exit strategy."
Since Rwandan independence, serious tensions existed between the minority Tutsi population (15 percent) - which had constituted the pastoral monarchy that the ruling class favoured during the colonial period - and the majority Hutus. Previous instances of massive ethnic violence began shortly after independence in Rwanda. Some commentators have used the term "genocide" to describe the violence that took place in 1963, 1966, and 1973. As many as 20,000 Tutsi victims were killed in the first case, and thousands in the other two.
The horrors beginning in April 1994, however, completely overshadowed these previous events. On April 6, a surface-to-air missile shot down the plane carrying Rwandan President Juvénal Habyarimana and his Burundian counterpart, Cyprien Ntaryamira. Fighting broke out within hours in Rwanda, and a pre-planned strategy of genocide was put into effect. By the end of the following day militant Hutus, claiming that Habyarimana had been assassinated by Tutsi rebels, retaliated by killing Prime Minister Agathe Uwilingiyimana and seizing control of the government. This provoked rampages against Tutsis and moderate Hutus by security forces and armed gangs loyal to the government. Most notorious among the killers were the Interhamwe (those who stand together) and Impuzamugambi (the single-minded ones) - predominantly Hutu militias trained by the national army and organized as the youth wings of the major Hutu parties. The Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), led by Paul Kagame, recommenced its civil war with the Rwandan government from its bases in nearby Uganda.
At the time of Habyarimana's death, there were 2,500 UN peacekeepers stationed in Rwanda as part of the UN Assistance Mission in Rwanda (UNAMIR), a lightly armed peacekeeping mission designed to monitor the Arusha Accords, which had been signed the previous August. After 10 Belgian troops assigned to guard the prime minister were killed and mutilated on April 7, Belgium stated its intention to withdraw its 440 troops from UNAMIR.50 The Secretary-General reported to the Council that UNAMIR's position had become untenable. He outlined alternatives: a massive reinforcement of UNAMIR to coerce the sides into a cease-fire; reduction of the UN's commitment to a small group, headed by the force commander and supported by a staff of about 270, which would attempt to bring about an agreement on a cease-fire; or complete withdrawal.51
Resolution 912 (1994) stated that the Council decided to "adjust the mandate of UNAMIR." On April 21, in the middle of the crisis, the Security Council voted to reduce that number to 270. By withdrawing the force as the bloodbath was gathering speed, the UN sent an unmistakable message to the genocidal forces that there was little or no international resolve to stand in their way. Even two weeks after the onset of the killings, Security Council members and UN officials were unwilling to use the term "genocide" and continued to call for a cease-fire among the warring factions.
One dissenting voice in the military wilderness was Major General Romeo Dallaire who, as UNAMIR's force commander, pleaded for 5,000 well-trained soldiers. In his view, they could have slowed the pace of the killings and perhaps turned the tide. He also requested an expansion of rules of engagement to incorporate the protection of civilians. Both requests were denied. Although some dispute whether 5,000 soldiers could have really stopped the genocide,52 the appalling number of deaths may have been reduced substantially. Illustrative examples were the protection of some 10,000 civilians in Kigali's Amahoro Stadium and others at the King Faisal Hospital, both with only a handful of dedicated UN soldiers.
Although the remaining troops deterred some abuse, they were clearly inadequate to the task. From April to July 1994, Hutu extremists systematically murdered hundreds of thousands (estimates range as high as 800,000) of Tutsis, as well as Hutu moderates.53 Women and children suffered in the aftermath of the genocide, with an estimated 47,000 children orphaned; 250,000 to 500,000 women raped; and 2,000 to 5,000 children outcast because they were conceived as a result of rape.54
Despite hypothetical offers from some 50 potential troop-contributing countries, there was little genuine willingness to intervene. By the third week of April, the Secretary-General put three options before the Council: strengthen UNAMIR by several thousand troops, reduce its strength, or withdraw completely. Of the three, he advocated the plan calling for 5,500 troops to be deployed in Kigali under an expanded UNAMIR mandate to provide security to humanitarian organizations for the distribution of relief supplies and to establish access to sites where displaced persons and refugees were concentrated and ensure their protection.55
This plan was resisted by the US, which questioned the UN proposal, arguing for more restructuring of the plan before going into Kigali. Part of the constraint was the early May issuance of Presidential Decision Directive 25, issued by President William J. Clinton, which made US funding and participation less likely. Following on the decisive 1993 public reactions to the debacle in Somalia and the aborted mission to Haiti, this document effectively rang the death knell for the policy announced, with much fanfare, by the incoming Clinton administration, as "assertive multilateralism."
The lassitude was condemned by the Organization of African Unity (OAU) and aid agencies, which accused the Council of applying different standards in Africa than in Europe. Massacres continued, and finally, on April 29, the Secretary-General urged the Council to reconsider its position and take "forceful action to restore law and order."56
Early UN reports systematically understated the scale of the carnage. By late May, Secretary-General Boutros-Ghali estimated that between 250,000 and 500,000 Rwandans, mostly Tutsi, had already been killed. He concluded that "the magnitude of the human calamity that has engulfed Rwanda might be unimaginable but for its having transpired. On the basis of the evidence that has emerged, there can be little doubt that it constitutes genocide."57
On May 17, the Council adopted Resolution 918 (1994), which imposed an arms embargo and authorized an expansion of UNAMIR. Washington argued that this should take place in two phases, however, with the first comprising only 150 unarmed observers and an 800-strong Ghanaian battalion to secure the Kigali airport. Despite the Secretary-General's report, governments resisted using the term "genocide," as it would have made their policies of inaction untenable in light of the 1948 convention.58 Resolution 918 avoided the term, referring instead to "the killing of members of an ethnic group with the intention of destroying such a group in whole or in part."59 It was not until June 8 that the Council, in Resolution 925 (1994), noted "with the gravest concern the reports indicating that acts of genocide have occurred in Rwanda." Although this resolution was intended to accelerate the deployment of the expanded UNAMIR, 10 days later the UNAMIR force still consisted only of about 500 troops under the command of Dallaire. The Secretary-General estimated that UNAMIR would be unable to undertake its full mandate for another three months.60
In a letter to the Secretary-General, dated June 20, 1994, France announced that it was prepared to intervene in Rwanda, "with its main European and African partners," to put an end to the massacres and protect groups threatened with "extinction." France requested Chapter VII authorization "in the spirit of resolution 794" (which had authorized the US-led UNITAF operation in Somalia) for itself and Senegal "to send a force in without delay, so as to maintain a presence pending the arrival of the expanded UNAMIR."61 This offer met widespread suspicion, owing to France's close ties to the ousted Hutu regime and particularly its role in arming and training the predominantly Hutu government forces.
Despite the serious misgivings expressed by a number of Council members and an outright rejection by the RPF, the Security Council adopted Resolution 929 (1994) on June 22, 1994. The text recognized that the situation "constitutes a unique case which demands an urgent response by the international community" and "that the magnitude of the humanitarian crisis in Rwanda constitutes a threat to peace and security in the region." The Council authorized France to conduct an operation under national command and control to improve security and protect displaced persons, refugees, and civilians at risk. Under Chapter VII, France was authorized to use "all necessary means" to achieve these objectives. References to impartiality and humanitarian goals, as well as a two-month time limit, were added to the resolution during brief but intensive consultations.62 Five abstentions to the resolution (Brazil, China, New Zealand, Nigeria, and Pakistan) suggested deep divisions within the Council about authorizing a French intervention.
While expressing its strong opposition, the RPF did not seek a confrontation with French forces, and on July 18 the RPF unilaterally declared a cease-fire, which effectively ended the civil war. The presence of the French seemed to have two results. It slowed the advance of the RPF and thereby permitted the former government forces to escape, and it helped to avert a massive outflow of refugees into Zaire, which many had predicted might rival the earlier flood of almost 1 million to the camps in Goma. In the eyes of critics, the intervention seemed designed primarily to secure French interests in the area, including preserving the remnants of the Hutu leadership that had fomented genocide.63 On July 19, a government of national unity was formed, two weeks ahead of the scheduled French withdrawal from Rwanda.
The UNAMIR II mission never really got off the ground. On August 1, 1994, it still had fewer than 500 soldiers. The RPF had established military control over most of the country, and about 1.5 million (mainly Hutu) Rwandans had sought refuge in Zaire, out of fear of retribution. Of a total population of approximately 7 million, 3 million had been inter-nally displaced, more than 2 million had fled to neighbouring countries, and roughly 800,000 had been killed. The inability of the UN force to protect civilians (including national UN staff) was subsequently described in the understated but scathing conclusions of the independent inquiry as "one of the most painful and debated issues of this period."64
On November 8, 1994, the Security Council adopted Resolution 955 (1994), providing for the establishment of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda. Modelled after the one for the former Yugoslavia, the Rwandan counterpart was tasked with "prosecuting persons responsible for genocide and other serious violations of international humanitarian law committed in the territory of Rwanda and Rwandan citizens responsible for genocide and other such violations committed in the territory of neighbouring States, between January 1, 1994 and December 31, 1994."
The tribunal is located in Arusha, Tanzania, and has been plagued by corruption, mismanagement, and delays. More than $500 million has been spent, but only nine persons have been convicted. Nonetheless, of the 63 people who have been indicted, 49 are in custody (including the 9 who have been convicted). Two-thirds of the government ministers in office in April 1994 are in custody. What is more, the tribunal has recorded some historical breakthroughs, including the conviction of a former prime minister; the first conviction for genocide; and the first conviction for which rape was considered an integral component of genocide. At the same time, more than 100,000 Rwandans accused of participating in the genocide are also in custody inside Rwanda, most living under appalling conditions. The Arusha tribunal seems to represent the best hope for dealing with the persons responsible for the genocide and helping to set standards for international accountability, although some argue that local accountability would better facilitate longer term reconciliation.65
One outcome of the Rwandan genocide, and the subsequent mass exodus of Rwandans into Zaire, was the destabilization of eastern Zaire. The ongoing conflict involves troops from five neighbouring countries and has been dubbed "Africa's World War." The million refugees from Rwanda who gathered in eastern Zaire had by 1996 exacerbated ongoing problems of political and ethnic friction in the African Great Lakes region. Among the refugees were an estimated 100,000 to 150,000 members of the Interhamwe and other Hutu militant groups. Intense fighting in Zaire in November forced all international humanitarian workers to evacuate and caused 600,000 displaced Zairians to flee into Rwanda.66 Rwanda and Zaire were mutually suspicious about each other's motives - Rwanda felt threatened by the Interhamwe and Zaire by the new government in Rwanda itself.
On November 7, 1996, the Secretary-General proposed to the Council that a multinational force be dispatched to eastern Zaire.67 Kinshasa agreed to the deployment of such a force the next day,68 and on November 9 the Council passed Resolution 1078 (1996). Chapter VII was invoked because the "magnitude of the present humanitarian crisis" constituted a threat to international peace and security. The Council clearly was not aiming to mount a UN operation, but rather appealed to a coalition of the willing. Canada offered to lead a temporary and strictly humanitarian operation,69 which was duly authorized to use "all necessary means" by Resolution 1080 (1996). But the proposed intervention never materialized. Again, there was no enthusiasm to jump into the fray in the African Great Lakes. Good intentions were in greater supply than operational capacities or political will.
By December 5, the crisis in eastern Zaire appeared to have abated. The voluntary repatriation of many Rwandan refugees and the increased access of humanitarian organizations had partially achieved the proposed mission's objectives. And with the dispersal of the remaining refugees over large areas of eastern Zaire, the multinational force would have been of little utility at its approved level. In a letter, dated December 13, Canada decided to withdraw its command and forces by December 31.70
Following a successful military ouster of "Baby Doc" Duvalier, a new constitution was approved in 1987, and in 1990 Jean-Bertrand Aristide was elected president of Haiti, with 67 percent of the popular vote during an internationally monitored election. As the first democratically elected government in the poorest country of the Western hemisphere, there was widespread international opprobrium when Aristide was removed from office by a coup d'état on September 30, 1991.
The OAS swiftly condemned the overthrow and recommended the imposition of diplomatic and, later, economic sanctions.71 The Security Council failed to adopt a resolution on the issue, reportedly because China and certain NAM states were concerned about increased Security Council activism.72 The General Assembly, by contrast, strongly condemned in Resolution 46/7 (1991) the "illegal replacement of the constitutional President of Haiti," affirming that "any entity resulting from that illegal situation" was unacceptable.
The refusal of Haiti's military dictators to reinstate the Aristide government, combined with the continued persecution of his supporters, eventually led the Security Council to impose a mandatory economic embargo in June 1993. Resolution 841 (1993) was adopted explicitly under Chapter VII and listed a variety of factors that had led the Council to determine "that, in these unique and exceptional circumstances, the continuation of this situation threatens international peace and security in the region." These circumstances covered "the incidence of humanitarian crises, including mass displacements of population," and the "climate of fear of persecution and economic dislocation which could increase the number of Haitians seeking refuge in neighbouring Member States."
Indeed, Haiti had many of the attributes of a country enduring a deadly conflict - in particular, substantial forced displacement, massive human rights abuses, and a devastated economy - without actually having experienced a civil war. An estimated 60,000 to 100,000 refugees fled Haiti by small craft for the shores of Florida and the Dominican Republic between 1991 and 1994. At least as many went into hiding within Haiti.
The Security Council embargo led the Haitian military junta to accept the Governor's Island Agreement (GIA), which provided for President Aristide to return to power. Sanctions were lifted on August 27, 1993, but the agreement collapsed when violence against Aristide's supporters resumed in September and October. This corresponded with severe reservations in the US about the merits of sending US soldiers to a volatile country after the death of 18 in Mogadishu. The USS Harlan County arrived in Port-au-Prince harbour on October 11, only to be withdrawn the next day after crowds of protesters staged a rally on the docks.
The Security Council responded by reimposing sanctions in Resolution 873 (1993) and authorizing a naval blockade under Chapters VII and VIII of the Charter in Resolution 875 (1993). But the date set in the GIA for Aristide's return, October 30, 1993, passed with only a presidential statement warning that sanctions might be strengthened in the future.73
In February 1994, Aristide reversed his previous position and publicly signalled support for a surgical intervention to overthrow the de facto government and restore him to power.74 On July 29, 1994, nearly three years after the coup, the Aristide government-in-exile formally requested "prompt and decisive action."755 Two days later, the Security Council, acting under Chapter VII, passed Resolution 940 (1994), which authorized a multinational force to use
all necessary means to facilitate the departure from Haiti of the military leadership, the prompt return of the legitimately elected President and the restoration of the legitimate authorities of the Government of Haiti, and to establish and maintain a secure and stable environment that will permit implementation of the Governors Island Agreement.
Six weeks later, President Clinton delivered a televised speech advising Raoul Cédras and the "de factos" that their time was up and indicating that military action was imminent. An invasion was avoided when former US President Jimmy Carter, accompanied by former Senator Sam Nunn and former chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Colin Powell, secured an agreement with the Haitian military to return Aristide to power. By the end of September, more than 21,000 US soldiers and another 1,250 soldiers from 28 other nations were peacefully deployed in Haiti under the Multinational Force, or what the Pentagon called Operation Restore Democracy. There were no casualties among the interveners, though a number of Haitians died during violent demonstrations. International reaction to the events was generally positive, with only a few states expressing serious reservations.76 Aristide returned to Port-au-Prince on October 15, 1994.
After a brief period, the US-led force began what many deem to have been a model handover from a coalition to a UN mission that followed after the election of René Préval in December 1995 and the peaceful transition in government in February 1996. The gradual handover to the UN Mission in Haiti (UNMIH) was completed by March 1996. Planning for the transition from the US-led enforcement to the UN peacekeeping mission, including the incorporation of UNMIH planning staff, began eight months prior to the actual transition. The presence of a US general as the first UNMIH commander and solid relations between him and the SRSG also facilitated this process. The mandate of the UN mission was not extended in December 1997, because China, citing Taiwan's links to Haiti, vetoed the resolution.
While the transition was successful, the overall impact of the intervention in the country does not appear to have been long lasting. The reforms of the police, the penal system, and the judiciary were not extensive or complete enough to ensure stability for Haiti's future. The shortcomings, however, were with the lack of follow-through on the nation-building side, rather than the military intervention itself.
Since the 1960s coups, countercoups, and thuggery were defining features of Sierra Leone's sociopolitical order.77 By 1971, Sierra Leone's body politic had "been transformed into a de facto one-party government," with the Siaka Stevens regime using violence and political chicanery to stay in power.78 In 1984, Stevens' chosen successor, Major-General Joseph Saidu Momoh, took over power "in a stage-managed election."79
As the civil war next door posed a serious security threat to Stevens' government, he permitted ECOMOG to use Sierra Leone territory to launch air strikes against NPLF strongholds. It has been suggested that former NPFL warlord Charles Taylor thereafter supported rogue elements inside Sierra Leone, which began a rebel movement in March 1991.80 The rebels, who referred to themselves as the Revolutionary United Front (RUF), were led by a former army corporal of the Republic of Sierra Leone Military Forces (RSLMF), Foday Sankoh. The RUF remained a constant source of irritation for Momoh until he was ousted from power by a group of junior RSLMF officers led by army Captain Valentine Strasser in April 1992. Strasser and the other coup plotters established the National Provisional Revolutionary Council (NPRC) as the core governing structure for the country.
Under the Strasser regime, the RSLMF was unable to quell the RUF rebellion, which easily overran government forces and seized key diamond-producing areas. By 1992, more than 10,000 people, mostly women and children, had been killed, 300,000 had fled the country, and 400,000 were internally displaced. As the RUF insurrection gained momentum it became infamous for systematically raping women and children and hacking off limbs in order to terrorize and subjugate the local population.
By early 1995, RUF forces had effectively laid siege to the capital city of Freetown. Anarchic conditions soon prevailed. Thousands of civilians were slaughtered, raped, and maimed. As a result, Strasser, who was deposed in January 1996 by his deputy, Brigadier Julius Maada Bio, employed the services of a South African-based private military company, Executive Outcomes (EO). At the peak of operations against the RUF (January to March 1996), the EO force grew to about 250, before resuming a contracted level of human resources below 100 personnel from April 1996 to the termination of the contract at the end of January 1997. EO received an average monthly payment of about $1.7 million for the duration of its 21-month contract.81
EO assisted the NPRC to force RUF guerrillas back into the bush and establish the necessary conditions for elections in February and March 1996. EO trained company-sized contingents of the RSLMF and enlisted the support of the Kamajors (traditional hunters with exceptional bushcraft skills). They also provided the leadership, helicopters, and fire support necessary to pursue a successful small-scale war against the RUF. By late 1995, although the rebellion persisted, the siege of Freetown had been lifted and the RUF's headquarters had been destroyed. The Koindu diamond area and the Sierra Rutile area had been liber-ated and mining operations had been resumed.82 There were, however, allegations of human rights abuses by EO, and the government reacted to international pressure by terminating the company's contract.
In February and March of 1996, Sierra Leone held presidential and parliamentary elections. The Sierra Leone Peoples Party, led by Ahmed Tijan Kabbah, was elected to power. However, warring between the government and RUF, which contested the elections, continued unabated. On November 30, 1996, the government of Côte d'Ivoire, ECOWAS, the UN, the OAU, and the CIS facilitated peace talks that culminated in the Abidjan Accord, ending the war.
On May 25, 1997, approximately six months after the war, several junior military officers, led by Major Johnny Koromah, and the RUF carried out a successful coup d'état against President Kabbah's democratically elected government, forcing him to flee to Guinea.83 Though no longer in de facto control of the country, before leaving Kabbah requested that Nigeria and ECOWAS intervene to forestall the conflict and restore constitutional order to the country.84
There was universal condemnation of the coup, including a rebuke by the president of the Security Council.85 The reaction of the OAU, during its Council of Ministers Sixty-Sixth Ordinary Session in Harare in May 1997, strayed far away from its historically strict adher-ence to the principles of nonintervention in the internal affairs of a country, stating that it "strongly and unequivocally condemns, the coup d'état and calls for the immediate restoration of constitutional order [and] appeals to the leaders of ECOWAS to assist the people of Sierra Leone to restore constitutional order to the country."86 This was one of the first times that the OAU publicly took a stand in the name of human suffering and democracy against an illegal coup and seizure of power.
In response to Kabbah's request of May 26, 1997, Nigeria sent forces to Sierra Leone to protect Nigerian citizens, prevent further bloodshed, and restore law and order87 Nigeria also based its decision to intervene on Article 58 of the ECOWAS Revised Treaty of 1993, obliging member states "to work to safeguard and consolidate relations conducive to the maintenance of peace, stability and security within the region."88
In early August 1997, pursuant to requests by the member states of ECOWAS, General Sani Abacha, Nigeria's head of state and ECOWAS chair, issued an "executive directive" authorizing an economic blockade against Sierra Leone, to be enforced by ECOMOG. On August 30, 1997, during the Twentieth Summit of ECOWAS, in Abuja, ECOWAS officially mandated ECOMOG to enforce sanctions and restore law and order to the country. There were two separate interventions in Sierra Leone: the first under the authority of the Republic of Nigeria and the second under ECOWAS.89
Although there was no Security Council authorization, considerable support was offered from other quarters. OAU member states justified the intervention on humanitarian and prodemocratic grounds. UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan affirmed this perspective when he stated, "Africa can no longer tolerate, and accept as fait accompli, coups against elected governments, and the illegal seizure of power by military cliques, who sometimes act for sectional interests, sometimes simply for their own."90
Finally, on October 8, 1997, the Security Council supported these endeavours by adopting Resolution 1132, which determined that the situation constituted a threat to international peace and security. The Council imposed arms and oil embargoes and a freeze on travel by, and financial assets of, members of the military junta. And the Council expressly authorized ECOWAS, under Chapter VIII, to cut off the Armed Forces Revolutionary Council's (AFRC's) foreign military supplies.
Similar to Resolution 788 on Liberia, Resolution 1132 served as a post de jure authentication of ECOMOG. Embargoes had been in force since August 1997, and ECOWAS forces had engaged in sporadic attacks over the following months. Despite the reference to Chapter VIII, ECOWAS continued to operate in advance of its Council mandate - Nigerian ECOMOG forces launched a major military assault in February 1998, an action subsequently welcomed in a presidential statement and later in Resolution 1162 (1998).91
On February 5, 1998, "responding to an attack by junta forces on its position at Lungi, ECOMOG launched a military attack on the junta," which led to the removal of the junta from power and expulsion from Freetown on February 12, 1998.92 By early March 1998, "ECOMOG [had] established itself successfully across most of the country." On March 10, 1998, President Kabbah returned to Freetown to resume his position as president of Sierra Leone. The leaders of Nigeria, Guinea, Mali, and Niger and the vice-president of the Gambia accompanied him. On April 17, 1998, the Security Council adopted Resolution 1162, which commended ECOMOG for restoring peace to Sierra Leone.
ECOMOG expanded in an attempt to secure the rest of the country. However, the force was not able to stamp its authority on the hinterland much beyond Freetown, and rebels continued to terrorize and brutalize the civilian population. This situation reached a bloody climax on January 6, 1999, when AFRC and RUF rebels overwhelmed ECOMOG forces and swept into Freetown, killing thousands of civilians and systematically dismembering and raping tens of thousands of others. The fighting resulted in the deaths of some 5,000 people, including rebel fighters, ECOMOG soldiers, and large numbers of civilians. Up to 150,000 people were displaced in and around Freetown, and buildings and homes were razed before ECOMOG forces eventually managed to expel the rebels and regain control of the city.93
Fighting between government and rebel forces continued, and the Council established, by Resolution 1181 (1998), the UN Observer Mission in Sierra Leone (UNOMSIL) to monitor the security situation, disarmament, and observance of IHL. Subsequently, an ill-fated peace agreement - providing for an immediate cease-fire, power-sharing between the government and the RUF, and national reconciliation - was signed in Lomé on July 7, 1999.
In October 1999, UNOMSIL's mandate was taken over by the UN Mission in Sierra Leone (UNAMSIL), with a more robust mandate to "afford protection to civilians under imminent threat of physical violence." Security Council Resolution 1270 (1999) provided for a maximum authorized strength of 6,000 military personnel, with an ambitious mandate, including disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration. In early December 1999, the first company of 133 Kenyan soldiers arrived as the advance unit of the first new UNAMSIL battalion, to join some 223 UN military observers already on the ground. Four ECOMOG battalions already in Sierra Leone (composed of troops from Ghana, Guinea, and Nigeria) were "rehatted" as UN blue helmets. Deployment of the remaining units was painfully slow. From the outset, UN peacekeepers were denied freedom of movement, amid frequent cease-fire violations that included ambushes against civilians and UN personnel, the maintenance of illegal roadblocks, and RUF troop movements.94
UNAMSIL was directly challenged in January 2000, when peacekeepers from Kenya and Guinea surrendered assault rifles, several rocket-propelled grenade launchers, four armored personnel carriers, communications equipment, and other military gear in at least three ambushes by the RUF. The failure to respond caused US, UK, and some UN officials to worry that the rebels would be enticed to step up their armed challenges to UN forces as they took over from the departing ECOMOG troops.95
On February 7, 2000, the Security Council unanimously approved the Secretary-General's plans for strengthening UNAMSIL, by raising the maximum authorized strength from 6,000 to 11,000, and it granted the mission an expanded mandate under Chapter VII. Resolution 1289 provided a legal framework for coercive action, but this was not translated into assertive and credible action on the ground.
The force commander, General Vijay Jetley, continued to defend the peacekeepers' soft approach, saying that while the RUF was "not as fully committed to disarmament as it would like people to believe," patience was necessary. He stressed that UNAMSIL was a "peacekeeping force, not a combat force."96 However, restraint and neutrality did not impress the RUF. Human Rights Watch reported in March 2000 that the RUF was regularly committing atrocities, including rapes, abductions, and looting near locations where UN forces were stationed. Intelligence sources also warned that despite Sankoh's public pledges to disarm, he had told his commanders that there would be no disarmament until the RUF had achieved a victory at the polls.
Sankoh, pardoned in the Lomé agreement, was participating in the transitional government even while keeping his war options open. The UN came under increasing pressure to end the charade by the RUF, which included new camps and deployment to Koidu (the seat of the RUF diamond-mining centre).97 A direct challenge to Sankoh resulted in a crisis on May 1, 2000, when drunken rebels demanded that UNAMSIL return 10 RUF fighters who had turned over their weapons. When the peacekeepers refused, the rebels took 10 Kenyans hostages. On the same day, seven Indian peacekeepers were captured, along with their helicopters.98 Significantly, these incidents coincided with the final departure of the last of four battalions of Nigerian ECOMOG troops.
Emboldened RUF forces again attacked UNAMSIL positions the next day, and the Kenyan battalion returned fire, which resulted in the death of four of their soldiers. Three more Kenyans were wounded, and about 50 other UNAMSIL personnel were captured. By May 5, the number of UN hostages had increased to 92 and then to more than 500, with the "disappearance" of a second Zambian contingent, which also lost 13 armored personnel carriers, which were used afterwards by the rebels in an assault on Freetown.
On May 7, the UK Ministry of Defence announced that it was sending a battalion of paratroopers and five warships to protect British nationals. News reports suggest that Freetown might have fallen to the RUF without the deployment of more than 1,000 British troops. In fact, the British force kept UNAMSIL from totally disintegrating. According to a UN official, "They stiffened the spines of everyone around by coming in, taking charge and simply stating that the RUF would not be allowed to succeed."99 By securing the airport, they ensured the safe departure of expatriates, enabled UNAMSIL troops to be redeployed elsewhere in Freetown, and facilitated the arrival of thousands of additional peacekeepers. British forces also provided training to the Sierra Leone armed forces.
At the end of 2000, however, UNAMSIL still lacked direction and continued to languish in Freetown awaiting more troops. Major-General Vijay Jetley left after a disastrous political confrontation with his Nigerian lieutenants, but he was forthright:
Most units under my command other than India, Kenya and Guinea have very little or no equipment with them. They have not been properly briefed in their country about the application of chapter VII in this mission for certain contingencies. It is for this precise reason that the troops do not have the mental aptitude or the will to fight the rebels when the situation so demanded.100
Currently, UNAMSIL continues to seek a negotiated settlement that would give the rebels a share of power. Until recently this has resulted in a pervasive unwillingness to deploy troops into rebel-held territory and derision among the inhabitants of Freetown.101 UNAMSIL is being reinforced up to the authorized level of 11,000 troops, with training provided by the UK. And in July 2001, a tribunal was created and a planning team was sent to Sierra Leone.
Although prospects are now improving, the various missions to Sierra Leone have done little to reduce the civilian suffering or regional instability. Poorly armed and ill-disciplined UN troops were an inadequate response in the face of atrocities in Sierra Leone. At various times, private mercenaries, ECOMOG forces, and British soldiers proved more effective in employing the necessarily robust use of force.
On June 28, 1989, Serbian President Slobodan Milosevic set the stage for the contemporary clash of nationalisms in the Balkans by inflaming Serbian fears of ethnic domination. His jingoistic speech invoked memories of the Serbs' defeat at the hands of the Turks precisely six centuries earlier. That same year, President Milosevic removed Kosovo's autonomy and replaced it with direct rule from Belgrade. Ethnic Albanian politicians in Kosovo responded by declaring independence in July 1990. They established parallel institutions that Serbia, in control of government in the formerly autonomous province, refused to recognize. Unrest continued through the decade, but international attention was focused elsewhere in the Balkans - Kosovo was not included in the Dayton Peace Accords.102 Nonetheless, outgoing US President Bush issued a warning to President Milosevic on December 24, 1992, that "[i]n the event of conflict in Kosovo caused by Serbian action, the United States will be prepared to employ military force against the Serbs in Kosovo and in Serbia proper."103
The Kosovo cauldron simmered, until boiling over early in 1998, when dozens of suspected Albanian separatists were killed by Serb police. On March 31, 1998, Security Council Resolution 1160 (1998) condemned the use of excessive force by Serbian police and terrorist action by the Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA), imposed an arms embargo, and expressed support for a solution based on the territorial integrity of the FRY, but with a greater degree of autonomy for the Kosovar Albanians. Fighting continued and US-sponsored peace talks between Milosevic and the unofficial president of Kosovo, Ibrahim Rugova, broke down in May.
On September 23, 1998, Security Council Resolution 1199 (1998) "affirm[ed] that the deterioration of the situation in Kosovo constitutes a threat to peace and security in the region" and, under Chapter VII, demanded a ceasefire and action to improve the humanitarian situation. It further demanded that the FRY take concrete steps to implement the Contact Group demands of June 12, 1998 - including a cessation of action by security forces, the return of refugees and displaced persons, and free and unimpeded access for humanitarian organizations it would "consider further action and additional measures to maintain or restore peace and stability in the region."104
In the following week, reports of two massacres by Serbian forces of about 30 Kosovar Albanians strengthened NATO resolve. In a press conference on October 8, 1998, US Secretary of State Madeleine Albright said that the time had come to authorize military force if Milosevic failed to comply with existing resolutions. When questioned as to the need for a further Security Council resolution, she replied that "the United Nations has now spoken out on this subject a number of times."105 The Times (of London) captured the curious mix of law and politics that underpinned this view:
Diplomatic sources said yesterday that alliance members were approaching consensus on the legal basis for airstrikes. Although several countries, including Greece, Spain, Germany and Italy, had previously favoured seeking authorization from the United Nations Security Council, they now realized that was no longer realistic because of Moscow's pledge to veto military action.106
On October 13, 1998, the North Atlantic Council issued activation orders for a phased air campaign. NATO Secretary-General Javier Solana stated that execution of limited air operations would not begin for at least four days, to permit negotiations, but at the same time continued: "The Allies believe that in the particular circumstances with respect to the present crisis in Kosovo as described in UNSC [UN Security Council] Resolution 1199, there are legitimate grounds for the Alliance to threaten, and if necessary, to use force."107
An agreement signed on October 15, 1998, by the FRY's Chief of General Staff and General Wesley Clark, NATO's Supreme Allied Commander in Europe, provided for the establishment of an air verification mission over Kosovo.108The next day, an agreement signed by the FRY foreign minister and the chair-in-office of the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) provided for a verification mission in Kosovo, including undertakings by the FRY to comply with Security Council Resolutions 1160 (1998) and 1199 (1998).109 On October 25, Clark and General Klaus Naumann negotiated an agreement with Belgrade concerning the withdrawal of Yugoslav forces and police. According to some analysts, the FRY complied with this call until there was renewed provocation from the KLA.
There were differences of opinion as to what, precisely, was authorized by Resolution 1203 (1998), other than demanding that both the FRY and the Kosovar Albanians comply with previous resolutions.110 In statements made after they abstained from voting on Resolution 1203 (1998), both Russia and China - which had threatened to veto any resolution authorizing the use of force - made it clear that they did not see the resolution as authorizing military intervention.111 The US representative, by contrast, said, "The NATO allies, in agreeing on October 13 to the use of force, made it clear that they had the authority, the will and the means to resolve this issue. We retain that authority."112
This resolution marked the Council's final substantive involvement in Kosovo until NATO's air operations ceased on June 10, 1999.113 The issue simmered for some months, until the massacre of 45 civilians in Racak in January 1999 led to a NATO warning that it remained willing to take military action. Negotiations in Rambouillet from February 6 to 23 and in Paris from March 15 to 18 concluded with the FRY's refusing to sign the agreement that required freedom of movement for NATO throughout the whole of the FRY and a referendum on Kosovo's independence in three years. The draft agreement included a clause comparable to the Dayton agreement, in which the parties "invited" NATO to constitute and lead a military force authorized under a Chapter VII Security Council resolution.114
On March 24, 1999, NATO commenced air strikes against the FRY. NATO Secretary-General Solana stated that the military alliance acted because all diplomatic avenues had failed.115 President Clinton emphasized that US interests in preventing a potentially wider war if action were not taken, as well as the humanitarian concerns, led the allies to act.116 UK Prime Minister Blair stressed the need to protect Kosovar Albanian citizens and argued that the choice was to do something or do nothing.117
In an emergency session of the Security Council on March 24, Russia, China, Belarus, and India opposed the action as a violation of the Charter.118 Of those states that supported the action, few asserted a clear legal basis for it. The US, Canada, and France stressed that the FRY was in violation of legal obligations imposed by Resolutions 1199 and 1203.119 Only The Netherlands and the UK argued that the action was a legal response to a "humanitarian catastrophe"120 and was "the minimum judged necessary for that purpose."121
Other states expressed concerns about the humanitarian situation and the failure of diplomacy. The Slovenian representative alluded to the studied ambiguity of earlier Council resolutions: "Because of differences of views among permanent members, it was not possible to provide in those resolutions a sufficiently complete framework to allow for the entire range of measures that might be necessary to address the situation in Kosovo with success."122
On March 26, 1999, a draft resolution demanding an end to the air strikes was rejected by 12 votes to 3.123 Russia, China, and Namibia supported it, but 12 others (including 5 NATO members) did not. Few states opposing the draft advanced any legal basis for the action. The UK echoed its justification for the no-fly zones in Iraq, stating that military intervention was justified as an exceptional measure to prevent a humanitarian catastrophe. France and the Netherlands noted that previous resolutions had been adopted under Chapter VII of the Charter, thus implying that the coercive powers of the Council already had been invoked. For the most part, the resolution was simply seen as an inappropriate response to the situation, and one that might actually benefit Milosevic more than anyone else.124
In any event, the bombing initially exacerbated humanitarian problems. Ethnic cleansing began with a vengeance in Kosovo. Prior to the bombing, UNHCR estimated that there were 410,000 ethnic Albanians internally displaced as a result of Serb operations, and another 90,000 across the border. Within a matter of days, there were 750,00 refugees in Albania and Macedonia, as well as 250,000 IDPs at the border. UNHCR had prepared contingency plans for 100,000 refugees and was soon overwhelmed.
The 78-day bombing campaign was a textbook example of escalation theory and high-tech, low-risk military warfare. Initial targets were military, but after a month the bombing extended to dual-use targets, including mass media and power grids. The war was also extended to FRY territory, including the bombing of Belgrade. Many observers are of the opinion that the destruction of Serbia's infrastructure - for instance, 70 percent of bridges and 100 percent of refining capacity - and the threat of ground forces ended the war. The European Union (EU) estimated the cost of reconstruction at some $30 billion; the FRY, at $100 billion.
The FRY brought proceedings against 10 NATO members in the International Court of Justice (ICJ). In the course of hearings on the FRY's requests for provisional measures, Belgium presented the most elaborate legal justification for the action. In addition to relying on Security Council resolutions, Belgium claimed that a doctrine of humanitarian intervention was compatible with Article 2 (4) of the UN Charter, in addition to making an argument founded on humanitarian necessity.125 The US also emphasized the importance of Security Council resolutions, and together with four other delegations (Germany, the Netherlands, Spain, and the UK) made reference to the existence of a "humanitarian catastrophe."126 Four delegations did not offer any clear legal justification (Canada, France, Italy, and Portugal).
Yugoslavia had requested the ICJ to issue an injunction, based in part on provisions of the Genocide Convention, calling for an immediate cessation of bombing. However, the ICJ found that it did not have prima facie jurisdiction to issue what it termed "interim measures," based on those provisions. 127 The ICJ declined to grant the relief sought, for technical reasons to do with the FRY's accession to the jurisdiction of the ICJ during the conflict. Decision on the jurisdiction of the ICJ on other dimensions and a possible ruling on the merits of the case have been postponed at the request of Yugoslavia until April 2002.
Immediately following the end of hostilities, NATO deployed a 20,000-strong Kosovo Force to provide security within the war-torn society, which operated within the UN Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo. The security force was designed to complement the division of labour with four other intergovernmental organizations. The UN was charged with interim civil administration and capacity building. The UNHCR was given responsibility for humanitarian affairs. The EU took the lead in rehabilitation, reconstruction, and post-war peace building. And the OSCE pursued more elusive longer-term institution-building.
As Kosovo is a region of the FRY, and it was treated as such by NATO, the massive postintervention effort constitutes a military "protectorate." The desire to avoid setting a precedent was evident in subsequent statements by NATO members. US Secretary of State Albright stressed in a press conference after the air campaign that Kosovo was "a unique situation sui generis in the region of the Balkans."128 UK Prime Minister Tony Blair appeared to suggest at one point that such interventions might become more routine, stating that, "The most pressing foreign policy problem we face is to identify the circumstances in which we should get actively involved in other people's conflicts."129 He subsequently retreated somewhat from this position, however, and emphasized the exceptional nature of the air campaign.130 This was consistent with one of the more considered UK statements, by Baroness Symons in the House of Lords, made on November 16, 1998, and reaffirmed on May 6, 1999:
There is no general doctrine of humanitarian necessity in international law. Cases have nevertheless arisen (as in northern Iraq in 1991) when, in the light of all the circumstances, a limited use of force was justifiable in support of purposes laid down by the Security Council but without the council's express authorization when that was the only means to avert an immediate and overwhelming humanitarian catastrophe. Such cases would in the nature of things be exceptional.131
The UK Foreign Affairs Committee, as part of its inquiry into the legal merits of the Kosovo intervention, concluded "that NATO's military action, if of dubious legality in the current state of international law, was justified on moral grounds."132 Similarly, the Independent International Commission on Kosovo held that NATO's military intervention was "illegal but legitimate."133
The Kosovo case has important implications for the employment of international criminal prosecution. In May 1999, the chief prosecutor of the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia indicted Slobodan Milosevic and four senior FRY officials for crimes in Kosovo. In mid-June 2001, the new government in the FRY issued a decree that permitted the extradition of these indicted criminals to The Hague, despite the fact that the constitution did not permit it. Under considerable pressure from international donors, especially the US, the government contended that international covenants outweighed national law. The symbolism of Milosevic's transfer to The Hague on June 27, 2001, was noteworthy in itself - St Vitus's Day, the date in 1389 that the Serbs had lost a key battle in Kosovo, the day that he had unleashed the passionate jingoism in 1989, and the day 10 years after the Balkan wars erupted in Slovenia and Croatia.
One of the persistent criticisms, even among supporters of the intervention,134 was the unwillingness of the NATO coalition to put ground troops into the equation. According to this view, the presence of and the threat to use ground troops would have averted the mass exodus of refugees. It would also have helped make a more credible moral stance, in that humanitarian intervention would have been worth the lives of Westerners as well as Yugoslavs. By remaining at 15,000 feet, there were no NATO casualties, and public support was sustained in the West.135 But the moral high ground was less firm.
The NATO intervention in Kosovo remains highly controversial. The moral, legal, operational, and political dimensions of humanitarian intervention have never come under such sustained and sometimes vitriolic scrutiny. The establishment of what is, in effect, a UN protectorate is also controversial, particularly given the retaliatory attacks against the remaining Serb minority. Finally, however unwittingly, intervention on behalf of the repressed Kosovo Albanians played into the hands of the insurgents striving for independence. Despite NATO and UN protests that they do not support Kosovo's drive for independence, that is the most likely outcome.
In 1975, Indonesia invaded the former Portuguese colony of East Timor in order to annex it as an integral part of Indonesia. The eastern half of the island of Timor was to become the 27th province. Both the Security Council and the General Assembly called for Indonesia to withdraw and respect East Timor's territorial integrity and the inalienable right of its people to self-determination. The Indonesian government ignored such calls, and its occupation resulted in some 200,000 to 300,000 dead and a long-standing insurgency.
The annexation of East Timor was not formally recognized by the vast majority of UN member states; Australia was the main exception. Despite this groundswell of world opinion, East Timor's independence only became possible following the replacement of Indonesian President Suharto by B.J. Habibie, who offered to hold a plebiscite on the territory's future. An agreement dated May 5, 1999, between Indonesia and Portugal (as the administering power of a non-self-governing territory), provided for a "popular consultation" on East Timor's future, to be held on August 8.136 The agreement left security arrangements in the hands of Indonesia's military, which had actively suppressed the East Timorese population for the previous quarter century.
On June 11, Security Council Resolution 1246 (1999) established the UN Mission in East Timor (UNAMET) to organize and conduct the electoral consultation. Some 900 UN staff, 270 civilian police, and 4,000 local staff comprised this operation. A month later, with the consultation postponed because of security concerns until the end of August, the Secretary-General reported to the Council that "the situation in East Timor will be rather delicate as the Territory prepares for the implementation of the result of the popular consultation, whichever it may be."137 Despite threats of violence, 98 percent of registered East Timorese voted in the referendum, with 78.5 percent opting for independence.
In the wake of the vote for independence, however, widespread violence and looting took place under the direction of the Indonesian military.138 While the UN Secretary-General was engaged in negotiations about a possible security force, the headquarters of the ICRC was attacked, several local UNAMET personnel were killed, and the UN began to withdraw its civilian staff in the face of a rampage by the military-backed militias.
The humanitarian crisis was severe. For a tiny half of an island whose population was estimated to be only just more than 1 million, two-thirds had fled their homes and were totally dependent on international aid. The World Food Progam estimated a 6-month bill of about $135 million for some 750,000 IDPs.
There was some reluctance to intervene, despite the massive international response in Kosovo only months earlier, largely because of the political and economic importance of Indonesia. Nonetheless, Australia instigated discussions, driven by domestic political pressure, concern about a refugee crisis and regional stability, and some measure of contrition for its previous policies on East Timor; and the likely negative impact on UN credibility of remaining inactive loomed large. With many of the same motivations, members of the Security Council authorized, on September 15, an Australian-led multinational force under Chapter VII to restore peace and security to East Timor.
The legal necessity for requiring Indonesia's consent was doubtful to say the least.139 But as a practical political matter, an outside military operation was inconceivable without Indonesian consent. No one was prepared to run the risk of serious resistance from Indonesian troops. After substantial arm-twisting - including pressure from international financial institutions and bilateral programmes of military and development assistance - consent came from Jakarta. Resolution 1264 (1999) welcomed a September 12 statement by the Indonesian president that expressed readiness to accept an international force in East Timor.
On September 20, roughly 2,500 soldiers, with helicopters and armoured personnel carriers, arrived in the smouldering ruins of the capital, Dili. Countries contributing troops included Australia, the UK, Canada, France, New Zealand, the Philippines, Thailand, and the US At the outset, it was unclear how the Indonesian forces and the militias whom they controlled would respond. Yet, over the next few weeks, skirmishes with these forces were infrequent, and the International Force in East Timor (INTERFET) ultimately supervised the largely peaceful withdrawal of Indonesian soldiers. Control over the territory, however, did not mean that the victims were safe. As many as 200,000 people had been pushed out of the territory - most expelled at gunpoint by militias. They were subsequently forced into militia-controlled camps in West Timor, well beyond the range of the multinational force.
The resolution authorizing the Australian-led INTERFET noted that the multinational force should be replaced "as soon as possible" by a UN peacekeeping force. On October 25, the Council voted in Resolution 1272 (1999) to establish the UN Transitional Administration in East Timor (UNTAET). INTERFET transferred military control of the territory to UNTAET on February 23, 2000, and initiated an ambitious programme of police and civilian administration. Their mandate was to provide security and maintain law and order, establish an effective administration, assist in the development of civil and social services, and ensure the coordination and delivery of humanitarian aid, rehabilitation, and development assistance. This was to be accomplished by a military force of more than 8,000 troops and more than 1,500 civilian specialists, including police.
There are strong parallels between the ultimate outcomes in East Timor and Kosovo. As East Timor is to be an independent state, this post-intervention effect constitutes a "trusteeship." The administration of an area following an intervention - that is, comprehensive state-building with the UN in the role of quasi government - appears to be a necessary step in some post-intervention cases, regardless of the paternalistic connotations. Despite the unique international legal circumstances of East Timor, the intervention has also had an undeniable demonstration effect elsewhere within the Indonesian archipelago, with other insurgents seemingly empowered to confront Jakarta.
The concluding overview in the preceding essay about pre-1990 humanitarian interventions contained generalizations about the motives, justifications, and interests emanating from 10 historical cases. The present essay has reviewed the historical details of 9 of the more recent cases; the moral, legal, operational, and political implications will be dissected in detail in Section C of this part of the volume.
It is worth noting at this juncture, however, that all of the military interventions of the 1990s were, according to virtually everyone's definition, more legitimate than the earlier cases. Rather than remaining on the sidelines, the Security Council was seized by each of them and made decisions authorizing coercion. Unlike the earlier cases, in which the rescue of nationals and self-defence were the prominent justifications, the conscience-shocking and truly "humanitarian" elements of the post-1990 cases were explicitly recognized as important justifications for international action. Instead of single-state military operations, the interventions of the 1990s were also genuinely multilateral.
During this period, the balance between three forms of nonconsensual action shifted. The decade ended as it began, with multinational coalitions undertaking extremely high-intensity military interventions - yet the intervening years were characterized by considerable scepticism as to the utility of military force for humanitarian purposes, particularly as a result of experiences in Somalia and the Balkans.
It was a decade of profound change for two other forms of intervention - sanctions and international criminal prosecutions - as well. The 1990s have been labelled the "sanctions decade" because the Security Council imposed 12 sanctions regimes, several times more than in the previous 40 years combined. As well as being used more frequently, sanctions were also applied more widely, including against nonstate actors in Angola and Cambodia.140 The frequent resort to sanctions occurred despite the fact that most observers criticized their political inefficacy, and an even larger number of critics lamented their humanitarian consequences.141 Particularly as a result of the painful human suffering in Iraq, the view that sanctions represent a kinder and gentler alternative to deadly force seems unsustainable. Ultimately, the Charter's call to use nonforcible before forcible measures may have a less than optimal humanitarian result. Some advocate moving toward "smart sanctions" designed to target regime leaders while minimizing the impact on the general population,142 while others call for the application of deadly force sooner rather than later.
International criminal prosecution was another type of intervention that, for the first time since the immediate aftermath of the Second World War, was employed to bring to justice those who had committed crimes against humanity. A number of recent legal decisions suggest considerable erosion of the rules relating to the immunity of states and their leaders. These have long provided that leading officials (including retired ones) of a state cannot be tried in courts in another country for acts committed in their own state and in the exercise of their official duties.143 Although the Genocide Convention specifically calls for punishing perpetrators "whether they are constitutionally responsible rulers, public officials or private individuals," state practice over decades had overwhelmingly supported the notion of sovereign immunity. This is one reason why states avoided calling the Rwanda genocide a "genocide."144
The fight to establish limits to impunity received a boost with the establishment of the international criminal tribunals for the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda in 1993 and 1994, respectively. More recent violence in Burundi, the Congo, and East Timor has led to calls for additional ad hoc tribunals. And the Khmer Rouge's atrocities of the 1970s have long been a topic that has led to a similar call, although legislation to establish a tribunal is stalled in the Cambodian parliament. A more likely third tribunal may be for Sierra Leone, where rebels have committed horrible cruelties against civilians, and a planning delegation was authorized by the Security Council in July 2001, about a year after the decision to establish such a mechanism. While the tribunals for Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia are entirely international, the ones proposed for Cambodia and Sierra Leone would each have an international prosecutor but a mix of local and foreign judges.
Dissatisfaction with early institutional shortcomings for both the Rwandan and the former Yugoslavian tribunals demonstrated to many observers the need for a permanent court. The creation of the ICC awaits the 60th ratification of the 1998 Rome Statute. However, international agreement on the independence of the prosecutor and the court's jurisdiction over internal conflicts and disturbances suggests that criminal prosecution could become a common, rather than an ad hoc, response in the face of large scale atrocities.
Questions related to the legality of armed military intervention for humanitarian purposes are also relevant to nonmilitary intervention. The Security Council has the legal capacity both to authorize intervention and to delegate needed authority to regional bodies. Sanctions and embargoes have been imposed without Council authorization, by regional bodies or unilaterally.
The most substantive departure in the post-Cold War era, however, remains the Security Council's willingness to authorize military actions in response to matters thought previously to be solely within the domestic jurisdiction of states. The decade witnessed serious second thoughts about humanitarian intervention. Euphoria after the Gulf War and the rescue of the Kurds in 1991 gave way, three brief years later, to the nihilism of the international nonresponse to Rwanda's genocide. The last year of the millennium conjured up, depending on one's point of view, optimism or pessimism about humanitarian intervention, because of the visible and costly international efforts in Sierra Leone, Kosovo, and East Timor.
Two major trends in the nature of Security Council authorizations should be highlighted. The first relates to the expansion of what constitutes "threats to international peace and security." And the second relates to organizational limitations of the UN and the concomitant use of multinational forces and the dependency of the Council on such coalitions of the willing for the application of deadly force.
The most basic transformation in the use of Security Council powers is that civil war and internal strife have been described as threats to international peace and security and may therefore be the basis for Chapter VII enforcement action. This development was virtually inconceivable during the Cold War, when similar conflicts were not considered to constitute such threats. Yet, by 1995, the Appeals Chamber of the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia summarized that it is the "settled practice of the Security Council and the common understanding of the United Nations membership in general" that a purely internal armed conflict may constitute a "threat to the peace."145 In fact, when the Security Council considered the civil war in Angola, it was even prepared to locate such a threat specifically within a rebel movement.
Substantial flows of refugees have been deemed by the Security Council to constitute a threat to international peace and security. This has enabled them to justify Chapter VII actions to create safe havens in the Balkans and Rwanda. The Council also determined that "serious" or "systematic, widespread and flagrant" violations of IHL within a country also threaten international peace and security. This undoubtedly represents a considerable stretch for those who are familiar with the convictions of the framers of the UN Charter. But resolutions establishing the international criminal tribunals for Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia did not indicate that violations of IHL were a threat to international peace and security, a position strongly supported by the ICRC and other humanitarian agencies.146 There has been, therefore, a gradual shift away from strict reliance on the transboundary implications of a humanitarian situation as the determining factor.
Some have argued that the ever-widening definition of international peace and security is artificial and unsustainable and that more explicit grounds for intervention to protect civilians should be developed. For example, the Independent Commission on Global Governance proposed "an appropriate Charter amendment permitting such intervention but restricting it to cases that constitute a violation of the security of people so gross and extreme that it requires an international response on humanitarian grounds."147
If humanitarian and human rights tragedies can be squeezed under the rubric of international peace and security, the restoration of democracy within a country demands even more leeway. In this light, Operation Restore Democracy in Haiti can be seen as a high watermark of Council activism in the 1990s. The unprecedented authorization called for the use of force to remove one regime and install another. It has been argued that this foreshadows the emergence of a more general norm of intervention in support of democ-racy, a proposition that finds limited support in the amended OAS Charter.148 ECOWAS's intervention into Sierra Leone further supports the argument that an international norm of "prodemocratic" intervention is developing. While it can be seen neither as a literal interpretation of Chapter VIII nor as involving a threat to international peace and security, the Council's post hoc ratification of ECOWAS's intervention may be best understood as an example of prodemocratic intervention.
Three other cases of prodemocratic intervention are not discussed here because they do not fall under the humanitarian heading defined at the outset. However, the outside military efforts in Guinea-Bissau (by Senegal, Guinea, and ECOWAS), in the Central African Republic (by MISAB), and in Lesotho (by South Africa and Bostswana under SADC agreements) suggest that democratic governance is in the forefront of African "interventions." As one analyst notes, "While in theory, Western nations purport to have the strongest democratic traditions, in practice, this emerging norm is taking firmer root in Africa than in any other region."149
In addition, the expansion of situations that come generally under the rubric of "threats to international peace and security" has had another result, considered by many in a less positive light. A series of ambiguous resolutions and conflicting interpretations have arisen over the extent and duration of the authority conferred by the Security Council. These were most notable in the operations against Iraq throughout the 1990s and in the Kosovo War in 1999. The weakening of formal requirements may have undermined the substantive provisions of the Charter's collective security system and contributed to facilitating actions in advance of Council authorization, or indeed without it.
This reflects a second trend in the expanding activities of the Security Council in the 1990s. The absence of any real UN operational capacities to meet the growing demands of a responsibility to protect civilians has led to a delegation of authority. The provisions in Article 43 concerning Security Council military enforcement presume the existence of agreements with member states to make forces available to the Council "on its call." Such agreements have never been concluded, and Chapter VII has never been applied according to the strict terms of Article 42. Yet, the Security Council has repeatedly authorized states to use "all necessary means" (or similar language), and this appears to be accepted as a legitimate application of its Chapter VII powers. The same language appears relevant for the delegation of authority under Chapter VIII.
Security Council military enforcement actions were limited to situations where states had the political will to bear the financial and human costs. For humanitarian interventions, the division of labour resulting from the experience of the 1990s highlights the chasm between peacekeeping and peace enforcement. These enforcement actions make it clear that the military protection functions do not squarely fall under either Chapters VI or Chapter VII. Some argue that these challenges can be accommodated by a slightly more robust form of peacekeeping. But the evidence suggests that demilitarizing refugee camps and creating safe havens that are truly safe require scaling back combat-capable troops willing to employ deadly force, rather than scaling up blue helmets. Distinctions that were fuzzy in the 1992 An Agenda for Peace became clearer in the 1995 Supplement to An Agenda for Peace.150 They have subsequently become clearer still in the recommendations from the 2000 Panel on UN Peace Operations: the UN should concentrate on peacekeeping and civilian administration - others should undertake robust military deployments.
Yet, the loose connections between UN authorization and member-state enforcement is not without its problems. In particular, the delegation of authority - or "subcontracting" to coalitions of the willing and able or to regional arrangements or agencies - has raised concerns about the use of Security Council authority to give legitimacy to the foreign policy objectives of powerful states.151