Power-Sharing and Human Rights: Illustrating the Tension between Pragmatism and Principle in the Construction of Peace Agreements

This is the answer to one of the questions on my take-home midterm for Comparative Peace Processes (one of my favorite classes!).  I couldn't get the references to copy correctly at the bottom, so sorry this isn't as professional as it probably should be.  I figured most people wouldn't be bothered, but if you actually do want the reference list, let me know :-)

There is often a tension between the issues of power sharing and human rights when constructing a peace accord.  One calls for compromise and concession, sometimes involving negotiation with parties who have committed gross human rights violations.  The other calls for justice, accountability for past wrongdoing, and mechanisms for ensuring that such things will not happen in the future.  How does a peace process address the need to acknowledge the suffering of victims of violence, while also producing an agreement that satisfies all parties in order to procure a cessation of hostilities?  This tension between principle and pragmatism is a recurring theme in the cases we have studied.  The 1996 MNLF-Government of the Philippines Agreement, Arusha Accords, and Lome Peace Agreement have each dealt with these issues differently.  What can be learned from the ways in which these agreements addressed the tension between power sharing and human rights, and what do these lessons reveal about agreements that increase the likelihood of sustainable peace?  

In “Power Sharing after Civil Wars,” Timothy D. Sisk identifies three power sharing options for settling civil wars, specifically ethnic conflicts: (1) autonomy; (2) a group building block approach, or consociationalism; and (3) an integrative approach (Darby & MacGinty 2008, pp. 200-5).  The agreements under examination illustrate individually each of these three methods.

The 1996 MNLF-Government of the Philippines Agreement addressed power sharing by establishing the Autonomous Region of Muslim Mindanao (ARMM), which was to have its own executive, legislative, and judicial branches, as well as its own security force.  The autonomous region was to be determined by a plebiscite, whereby 14 provinces would vote to join or not join ARMM.  In addition, MNLF Chairman Nur Misuari was elected to the ARMM governorship (Muslim & Cagoco-Guiam, 1999).  Autonomy was “seen as a reasonable way to balance the claims of states for territorial integrity and the claims of rebel forces for secession” (Darby & MacGinty 2008, p. 200).  The difficulty with autonomy in Mindanao, and autonomy generally, is in its implementation.  There is no singular blueprint for autonomy, so the details must be negotiated, which brings up many of the same contentious power sharing issues at play in the secession debate.  For this reason, Sisk claims it has had little success as a means of resolving conflict (Darby & MacGinty 2008, p. 201), and indeed has not been successful thus far in Mindanao.

The Arusha Accords provide an illustration of consociational power sharing, which is characterized by group autonomy, minority rights, and proportionality in all spheres of public life (Darby & MacGinty 2008, p. 202).  The Accords provided percentages for power sharing in all of Burundi’s governing institutions (McClintock & Nahimana 2008, p. 79), with the G10 Tutsi UPRONA-led coalition obtaining 50% of national and social ministries and 40% of economic ministries, and the G7 Hutu FRODEBU-led coalition obtaining the inverse (Burundi After Six Months of Transition 2002, p. 4).  In addition, UPRONA was granted the presidency of the Senate and vice-presidency of the National Assembly, while FRODEBU gained the presidency of the National Assembly and vice-presidency of the Senate (Burundi After Six Months of Transition 2002, p. 5). The Accords also mandated that the military would be 50% Hutu and 50% Tutsi (McClintock & Nahimana 2008, p. 79). 

When the history of governance is one of exclusion, as in Burundi, consociationalism can be a transitional step that at least mandates the representation of each group.  But its danger lies in the fact that it reinforces ethnic divisions in a nation already characterized by deep ethnic cleavages.  As Sisk asserts, “While power sharing may be desirable, and necessary, as an immediate exit to deadly ethnic wars, power sharing is not a viable long-term solution to managing uncertainty in divided societies” (Darby & MacGinty 2008, p. 196).  It remains to be seen whether this approach will be effective in mitigating mistrust and competition between Hutus and Tutsis in Burundi.

The Lome Peace Agreement dealt with power sharing from a more integrative approach, a luxury it may have been afforded because the conflict in Sierra Leone was not ethnic in nature.  As such, though power sharing was a primary issue for the Revolutionary United Front (RUF), the agreement did not need to address fundamental issues of identity that often generate the necessity of a building block approach.  The integrative approach was also possible because democratically-elected President Kabbah and his government had both popular and constitutional legitimacy (Rashid, 2000), enabling it to maintain its basic structure.

Lome provided four ministerial and four deputy ministerial positions for the AFRC-RUF and gave its leader, Foday Sankoh, chairmanship of the Commission for the Management of Strategic Resources, National Reconstruction and Development (which controlled the diamond mines), as well as the title of vice-president (Rashid, 2000).  In addition, the RUF was to be transformed into a political party ("Lome Agreement summary," 2000), though it eventually fizzled out as such.   

Even so, what may seem like minimal concessions on the part of the Sierra Leonean government in the area of power sharing become more significant in light of the particularly brutal war waged by the RUF, including the targeting of civilians, kidnapping of child soldiers, and indiscriminate amputation of limbs.  The tension between power sharing and human rights is paramount in this case.  The Lome Peace Agreement mandated fairly standard human rights provisions such as the release of all prisoners-of-war and the reintegration of refugees and internally displaced persons ("Lome Agreement summary," 2000), but how did it hold perpetrators accountable for human rights violations? 

While the agreement called for the establishment of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission to deal with human rights violations since 1991 ("Lome Agreement summary," 2000), it also gave blanket amnesty to all members of the RUF and a full pardon to Foday Sankoh (Rashid, 2000).  In a situation complicated by the fact that many perpetrators were once victims and in which it would have been impractical to put each RUF combatant on trial, amnesty was a necessary component in moving the negotiations forward.  According to Christine Bell in “Negotiating Human Rights,” “The question is changed from either amnesty or accountability, to a question of when and how accountability can best be provided for” (Darby & MacGinty 2008, p. 225).  Addressing this question, the United Nations attached a disclaimer to the amnesty provision “that the amnesty and pardon shall not apply to international crimes of genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes, and other serious violations of international humanitarian law” ("Chronology," 2000).  This disclaimer allowed for the later establishment of the Special Court for Sierra Leone to hold accountable those most responsible for the atrocities, such as Liberian President Charles Taylor.  Were these initiatives sufficient?  It is difficult to say, but this case illustrates the complexity of negotiating an agreement that seeks to achieve a variety of seemingly conflicting goals (i.e. peace and justice).

Burundi’s Arusha Accords contained some human rights provisions similar to those in the Lome Agreement.  For example, it provided for the resettlement and reintegration of refugees and established a National Truth and Reconciliation Commission (McClintock & Nahimana 2008, p. 79).  In addition, it mandated an independent commission to investigate prison conditions, the treatment of prisoners, and the release of political prisoners and prisoners awaiting trial (Burundi After Six Months of Transition 2002, p. 8).  Unlike in Sierra Leone, Arusha allowed for many of the most contentious human rights issues—such as political immunity, the establishment of a National Commission for the Reintegration of War-Affected People (CNRS), and a law aimed at preventing genocide—to be resolved through the political process (McClintock & Nahimana 2008, p. 79).  Ultimately, UPRONA and FRODEBU parliamentary groups obstructed the measures not aligned with its respective interests (Burundi After Six Months of Transition 2002, p. 8). 

The human rights situation in Mindanao was different from the other two cases in that, though the island continues to experience a devastating war, it has not faced the atrocities characterizing violence in Sierra Leone nor the ethnic massacres and threat of genocide causing great fear for both Hutus and Tutsis in Burundi.  Therefore, the 1996 Final Peace Agreement centered on details of autonomy and development for Mindanao and was largely silent on issues of human rights.  In particular, it failed to provide any compensatory justice to Muslims for the long history of injustice they have endured at the hands of colonizers, settlers, and the government (Muslim, 1999).  Perhaps this consuming focus on power sharing, and the lack of attention given to the human rights grievances causing the Moro to seek autonomy in the first place, contributed to the collapse of the agreement.

Clearly, power sharing and human rights are issues that cannot be ignored when constructing a peace agreement.  Analysis of these three cases shows that short-term solutions to these issues to obtain agreement must be balanced with mechanisms to ensure sustainable peace.  As articulated earlier by Bell, the question is not so much either/or, but when and how.  Attempts to adequately address the when and how of power sharing and human rights will inevitably result in some tension and inconsistency, serving as a reminder that agreements necessitated by long histories of destructive conflict will not be without their imperfections.