The recruitment strategies, financial activities, and the conduct of violence by non-state actors during armed conflict are among the core topics of contemporary conflict research. Drawing upon the empirical examples of Somalia and Angola, we focus on the activities of these actors in order to comprehend the dynamics of violence. A core influence is the insight from research on war economies that war is not equal to the breakdown of societal order. In fact, the economic approach to conflict argues that wars must be examined as an alternative form of social order. Our analytical focus is therefore on how actors establish and sustain social orders of violence beyond the state. While research on war economies explains violent actions as rational economic or rational-political strategies, we argue that economic activities are a form of social interaction.1 In order to understand the continuation of conflict and the changing actors of violence, the objective of research must be to examine the sociopolitical context, in which economic activities are embedded.
The various local, national and international influences on insurgent groups indicate that orders of violence vary considerably in regard to structure and organisational basis. Our focal point of analysis is the historical emergence of insurgents and their establishment and organisation of different forms of such orders. The long-lasting and devastating wars in Somalia (1988 - ) and Angola (1961–2002) have led to the formation of two rather distinct social orders. While Somalia is characterised by a proliferation of violent groups, mainly centred around a single person, here referred to as warlord, the insurgent movement UNITA in Angola managed to establish a rather centralised form of power resembling a state organisation. Although these orders have distinguishable characteristics, they have fundamental structural aspects in common. It is therefore suggested that social orders of violence can be systematised on a continuum between two poles of institutionalisation of authority beyond the state. On this continuum, these two poles are recognised: a warlord system and a quasi-state system of violence. These systems represent two ideal typical orders of violence and are only to be understood as heuristic categories guiding empirical studies.
This article proceeds in three parts. Beginning with a critical assessment of the economic approach to violent conflicts in the following section, we use the case studies of Somalia and Angola to explore how insurgents’ economic activities are embedded in political and symbolic practices in section three, ‘The Social Order of Violence’. Drawing upon the results of this comparative analysis, an analytical approach to the further examination of social orders of violence in a comparative perspective is introduced in the concluding section.
War as a rational economic activity & a rational strategy of authority
The emphasis on the economic functions of war (Keen 1998) in the late 1990s contributed to an upsurge in academic debates on how belligerents act during war. As the expected peace dividend subsequent to the fall of the Berlin Wall had failed to materialise, the understanding of prolonged violent conflicts became a central motive of research. An actor-centred approach was developed in order to understand the interests guiding practices of violent actors. In their comprehensive and systematic study of war economies, Jean and Rufin (1999) argued that economic activities during war significantly influence the organisational structure of armed groups and their strategies. Parallel to this concern with how economic activities influence conflict dynamism, others have focused on economic considerations as main causes of conflict, particularly in the ‘greed vs. grievance’ debate.2 With notions such as ‘resource wars’ (Klare, 2001) and the ‘curse of resources’ (Auty, 2001; Homer-Dixon, 1991, 1999), it is suggested that both abundance and scarcity of resources make the outbreak of conflict inevitable.
The analyses of the interests and strategies of warring parties during conflict have led to the emergence of two alternative explanatory models of war. First, a perspective according to which war is a rational economic activity, and second, war as a rational strategy of authority. The first explanatory model emphasises that winning as an objective of war is substituted by an interest in economic profits, and that armed groups utilise violence as means to achieving economic profits. War is thus described as a form of entrepreneurship.3 Violent appropriation of resources, the control of production and trade, ‘taxation’, as well as the supply of security services all represent various sources of finance for actors of violence. These activities do not only provide the funding for armed groups, but also contribute to individual enrichment. Thus, an interest in the continuation of conflict emerges. It is pivotal therefore to address the interests of the actors as well as the utility of use of violence during war. How actors conduct violence strategically is assessed by observing the direction of violence, whether it is top-down or bottom-up, and how these forms of violence are linked to different groups of actors (Keen, 1998:12). Top-down violence is conducted by state elites in situations in which they fear the loss of their powerful positions within political and economic spheres. This elite behaviour results in the mobilisation of marginalised groups, who aim to secure their survival through robberies, thereby making bottom-up violence a rational strategy of survival. Hence, according to the explanatory framework of war as rational economic activity, the interconnectedness of top-down and bottom-up violence determines conflict dynamism and contributes to the continuation of conflict. When violence becomes a prerequisite for economic reproduction, the parties to a conflict lose interest in bringing the conflict to an end. Violent conflict is thus institutionalised as a form of economic interaction.4 Elwert takes this even further, and argues that the economic principle of profit-maximisation as a primary motive of the parties to conflict is institutionalised in a ‘market of violence’ (Elwert, 1997). A pre-condition for the emergence of such markets is the erosion of the state monopoly of violence. In consequence, ‘open spaces of violence’ are created in which there are no rules that limit the use of violence (Ibid. p.88). On the market of violence, ‘economic imperatives’ (Ibid. p.90) define the use of violence as a strategic means to the appropriation of resources and the generation of profits.
The depiction of a strategic connection between violence and economic market behaviour as the central cause of dynamism and persistence of contemporary conflicts represents an implicit introduction of a utilitarian action-model and a rational choice perspective. Assumptions about actors’ conscious motives and their prime interest in achieving maximum gains with minimal costs are introduced for the purpose of making sense of the ‘coming anarchy’. When these utilitarian assumptions are transferred to conflict research, the emergence of a violent social order in war is reduced to an emphasis on individual economic gains (cf. Cramer, 2002; Schlee, 2000). The transfer of the modern market model to societies at war (Elwert, 1997, 1999) ignores that a minimum of political regulation, or a minimum state, is a prerequisite for the establishment of the market as the central economic institution of modern societies. Elwert's market of violence emerges under complete opposite conditions where rules are lacking within ‘open spaces of violence’. This makes the application of a utilitarian model of action highly problematic. As Tyrell has pointed out, it is implausible that actors are able to plan and act rationally under conditions in which there are no rules and ubiquitous use of violence exists (Tyrell, 1999:277). Even the establishment of pre-capitalist market places was based upon the existence of ‘unwritten, pre-legal customs’, that established a form of organised competition (Martinelli and Smelser, 1990). In addition to examining the functions of violence for economic purposes, the role of social institutions, norms, and rules for the behaviour of actors and for their economic activities in war must be addressed.
The competition for access to economic resources and profit during war is also significantly shaped by the threat of and use of violence. Since violence is a fundamental factor for the conduct of economic activities in wars, the establishment of an organisation of violence, such as an armed group, a short-term alliance, or a protection racket, is a pre-requisite for the achievement of profit. The conduct of economic activities is not isolated from patterns of authority, and thus, the market can neither be the sole nor the central institution of war economies.
The functionalist view that links violence to an economic rationality of individual enrichment stands out against a perspective on war economy in terms of altered forms of authority.5 The conceptualisation of war as a rational strategy of authority links conflicts to globalisation. The transformation processes induced by economic globalisation contribute to a complex reorganisation of forms and mechanisms of authority on the local, national and international level, and consequently, it is argued, the forms of conflict are altered (Duffield, 2001:2-15) The territories of sovereign states are today overlapped by decentralised networks through which state and non-state, local and international actors of violence interact. Contemporary wars, termed ‘post-modern conflict’ (Duffield, 1998) and ‘network-war’ (Duffield, 2001), are characterised by violent competition between such networks for control of locally available resources and access to the global market. The dynamism of the violent competition is shaped by the specific local organisation of the networks because it is on the local level that the actors must establish the political and social conditions for the organisation of their economic activities and the continuation of conflict. In adherence to the motto ‘think globally but act locally’ (Duffield, 1998) the actors of violence mobilise particularistic loyalties such as ethnic, social and cultural affinities of the local population for the purpose of establishing support. Local norms, conventions and codices of behaviour thus significantly define the functional logic of the networks. During conflict these informal institutions are continuously transformed (Duffield, 2001:190ff), and comprehending the logic of this transformation is a main task of research. While Duffield notes that this is not possible by using the category of rational economic behaviour (Ibid. p.138f), Reno has taken further steps in order to identify the causal factors of such processes of transformation of authority. The erosion of formal statehood in many contemporary conflicts does not imply the termination of authority, argues Reno. In contrast, during a violent conflict new forms of authority are established, referred to as shadow states. The organisational basis of a shadow state is personalised structures of authority. The establishment of such structures is made possible through the control of locally available resources, the monopolisation of local markets, and the access to international markets (Reno, 1995:1-27; Reno, 1998).
Violence is used for the purpose of controlling resources and people necessary for the extraction of resources and for forestalling competition from political enemies (Reno, 1998:8). The main functional principle of the shadow state is patronage. Patronage networks are used to (re-)distribute economic resources, thereby securing the loyalty of those who enjoy the distributed resources. Due to this commercialised relationship between patrons and clients, the rational economic interests of the actors involved, both the elites and their followers, determine the form of authority in the shadow state (Ibid. pp. 220, 224). By focusing merely on the distribution of economic resources, Reno reproduces the economic reductionism of current conflict research that he also criticises (Reno, 2002:103). When the relationship between the authority and the governed is based upon materialistic and rational motives, i.e. instrumental rationality, this creates a rather unstable relationship. A stable form of authority demands the simultaneous mobilisation of various forms of legitimacy as well as a belief in legitimacy (Weber, 1980:122). The endemic use of violence characteristic of shadow states indicates that this form of authority is based upon a rather limited legitimacy. In order to establish fully the means of legitimisation, the relationship between the elites and their mediators, between the elites and the local population, must be the object of study. Reno, however, does not explore the determinants of societal transformation during war beyond the influence of patronage. In regard to the claimed dominance of rational economic strategies in patronage systems, Reno's reference to patrimonial authority is particularly odd. Patrimonialism expresses in essence the necessity to examine how political, economic and symbolic aspects interact.
In sum, therefore, the economic approach to conflict does not comply with the objective of studying war as a complex ‘system of profit and power’ (Keen 1996:14), but remains focused on mainly economic aspects. The principle of rational economic behaviour is uncritically transferred to the explanatory frameworks of war as economic activity and as a system of authority. This concentration on instrumental rationality also explains the exclusion of actors on the ground in the economic approach. Instead of being passive, these actors also develop strategies for the purpose of securing their survival.6 One example of such survival-strategies is the influence of (forced) migration on violent conflicts. Diaspora-communities uphold links to their home-countries and may impact the options and actions of local actors (Zack-Williams and Mohan, 2002), and thus, potentially affect conflict dynamism (Angoustures and Pascal, 1999). In the two explanatory models of the economic approach, the partaking of non-elites and non-profiteers in war is explained solely as a result of instrumentalisation. While modern war profiteers are described primarily as rational actors, their followers – the combatants – are not. The actions of combatants are described as responses to appeals by elites to their cultural and ethnic affiliations (Keen, 1998:40; Elwert, 1997:94; Duffield, 2000:84). Even if there is certain empirical evidence of ethnic mobilisation in conflict, the argument according to which combatants are instrumentalised by elites a priori excludes the ability of combatants to act on the basis of independent considerations, i.e. as subjects on behalf of themselves (Tyrell, 1980:62; 1999:278). In regard to the social organisation of armed groups, the economic approach does not account for the affective and irrational motivations of action that together with rational behaviour, although not necessarily economic rationality, define the basis for action.
The conceptualisations of war as a rational economic strategy and as a rational strategy of authority within the economic approach do therefore not improve our understanding of the forms of social transformation during conflict. In the following section we explore the functioning of social systems of violence in Somalia and Angola. This is the basis upon which we present an alternative analytical approach to the study of social transformation during conflict in section four.
The social order of violence
The social orders of violence beyond the state emerge in context of a weak consolidation of the state in the Third World, and may both precede and result from crises in statehood. Although the state is here analytically distinguished from an insurgent social order, the state competes with the insurgents for legitimacy and access to economic resources and hence, interacts with insurgents. Overall, the capacity of the state to perform core state practices influences conflict dynamism (Ballentine, 2003:8f). The hybrid forms of political authority in many Third World states, in which modern and traditional forms of domination are interconnected (Eisenstadt, 1973; Médard, 1996:76-97; Schlichte, 1996; Schlichte & Wilke, 2000) is a source of social contradictions (cf. de Sardan, 1999) that are often articulated in the violent competition for the control of state. Insurgent movements may, however, develop a certain indifference towards the state during conflict. Regular use of violence initiates a radical social dynamic (Trotha, 1997:25) on all social levels. Hence, the use of violence can be analysed as a social process, in which violent actions shape new structures and new forms of behaviour, thereby redefining the forms of societal organisation. Long-lasting wars often lead to the institutionalisation of a new ‘system of profit and power’ (Keen, 1998:14), here referred to as social order of violence. According to Norbert Elias (1983), each social order comprises three elementary functions: the control of physical force (political authority), the guarantee of material means (an economic structure), and the production and preservation of symbolic means of orientation, with the latter shaping patterns of behaviour and defining specific group identities. The need to guarantee the material means of the actors of violence underlines the importance of establishing war economies. The control of physical force points to how the use of violence is dependent upon rules: within insurgent groups and militias the use of violence is limited and regulated according to institutionalised patterns of authority. The use of violence against non-members is usually not entirely arbitrary, but based upon an understanding of a common enemy as well as certain rules and procedures. These rules are institutionalised through a process of legitimisation. The interaction between the actors of violence in an insurgent group as well as between insurgents and non-group members reflects upon a ‘combination of myth, memories, values, and symbols that defines […] who is a member of the group [… and] what it means to be a member’ (Kaufman, 2001:25). The emergence of we-groups and the usage of rhetoric to prepare for the violent exclusion and exploitation of people from other groups, are of particular interest in regard to the impact of symbols on orders of violence: For
internal war to become possible, it is also necessary that groups stereotype, dehumanise, and scapegoat the Other […] what Bowman calls the ‘discursive project of transforming neighbours into enemies’ (Jackson 2002:17).
Somalia: A warlord system
In the pre-colonial Somali society the clan was a cornerstone of social organisation.9 Political decisions as well as access to land and water were regulated within the clan system. During the period of colonial and post-colonial state building this traditional form of social organisation underwent substantive changes.10 The Somali state under former military dictator Siad Barre represented a typical neopatrimonial system, in which the traditional Somali clan-structure was integrated into the modern state apparatus. At the beginning of his reign, Barre was eager to incorporate members of all major Clan-families in the state administration. However, the decrease in accessible resources in the late 1970s 11 led to the successive exclusion of certain clans from the state and hence, from economic benefits.12 The dwindling base of state legitimacy was compensated with a rapid increase in repression. Having lost the ability to integrate even larger parts of the population into his patrimonial system, Barre could safeguard his power only with the direct use of violence. The decline of the state was accompanied by a massive informalisation of the economy. The institutional core of this informal economy was constituted around a complex system that organised the money-transfer from Somali labour-migrants in the neighbouring Arabic countries. In this so-called franco-valuta system, local middlemen exchanged the hard currency of the migrants into Somali Shilling and submitted them to the local family members of the migrants. The middlemen then used the foreign currency to pay for the import of foreign goods into Somalia. Even the main source of foreign currency, the export of livestock, was successively integrated into these informal trade- and finance-networks. As a result, the formal economic and currency system came almost completely to a halt in the mid-1980s (Jamal & Weeks, 1993:89f.).
The informal trade networks were organised according to clan-affiliation. The social control as well as trust within the kinship groups substituted the lack of juridical guarantees from the state. It was the more marginalised clan groups in the north, particularly in the Isaaq, who were among the first labour migrants. They acquired a considerable share in the franco-valuta system (Gundel, 2002:263) and thereby developed a certain independence from the state.
In the longer run, political and economic discrimination as well as increased repression against certain clan groups were directly linked to the formation of insurgent groups that mainly mobilised recruits on the basis of clan-affiliation. In this context, another social dimension also gained importance: while the nomadic clans had a tradition of violent self-help, the less bellicose structures of the sedentary or (half)sedentary farmers and agro-pastoralists in the south made it more difficult for them to form and arm their own militias, further undermined by their marginalisation in the Somali army. In addition to discrimination by the Barreregime and experience with organisation of violent self-help systems, the access to informal economic structures was a further prerequisite for the formation of violent groups. The first insurgent groups were established in the late 1970s and early 1980s in the predominantly nomadic northern regions of Somalia. The Somali Salvation Democratic Front (SSDF) recruited its militias mainly from the north-eastern clan Darood/Majerteen13, and the Somali National Movement (SNM) was dominated by the clan Isaaq. Both insurgent groups were formed by former military or state officials, who had sought political asylum in Ethiopia, from where they also led the fight.14 While the SSDF soon had to halt their activities, at least temporally15, the SNM intensified their activities and was at war with the Somali state from 1988.
The successive disintegration of the state reached its peak at the end of the 1980s, as the state monopoly of violence was not sustained. Barre privileged his own Darood/Marehan clan and continued to discriminate members of other clans. Army members refused to fight against members of their own clan, and deserted from the security apparatus, often to join the insurgent groups. For example, many Hawiye left the armed forces only to join the military wing of the USC, led by General Farah Aideed. In 1989, the Somali Patriotic Movement (SPM) was formed mainly by ex-soldiers of the Darood/Ogaden clan. Led by Colonel Omar Jess, they fought in southern Somalia. The insurgent groups mobilised members of their own clans and supplied them with weapons. Using classical hit and run guerilla tactics they formed small and relative autonomous fighting units on the basis of sub- or even sub-sub-clans. At the same time the disintegration of the army was accelerated as Barre delivered weapons to the male members of his own Darood/Marehan sub-clan and to other loyal clan-factions.16 By the end of the 1980s the Somali military had disintegrated into a relatively disconnected ‘federation’ of clan-militias. In regard to organisation and procedure, the army was hardly distinguishable from the insurgent groups. The clan became the cornerstone not only for the recruitment of fighters but also for the economic organisation and financing of the various armed groups. The migration of clan-members first to the neighbouring and later to the industrial states of Europe and North America became increasingly important. The ‘near Diaspora’ (Koser and Van Hear, 2003:3) in the refugee camps in Ethiopia was used both as a recruitment-base and as a material support centre especially for the SNM. The ‘wider Diaspora’ (Ibid.) attracted the attention of the western public and also delivered considerable financial resources to the insurgent groups. The already existing transfer payment system of the franco-valuta was globalised through the establishment of worldwide informal remittance companies and, with the employment of modern IT-technologies, the efficiency of the system was improved.17
Within Somalia, armed clashes were accompanied by a war economy in its most simple form: robbery and looting. It would however be misleading to attribute these violent actions only to the greediness of the combatants. They were highly influenced by clan affiliation, which defined the core identity of combatants and also represented an emotional drive for their activities. The decentralised and barely institutionalised militias developed their own dynamic of violence. Of the 15,000 combatants involved in the clashes in Mogadishu in 1991, less than 1,500 were organised in classic military formations (Pérousse de Montclos, 2003:42). While the leaders of the insurgent groups expected rural fighters to return to their homes after Siad Barre was defeated (Compagnon, 1998:79), the young male fighters had enjoyed a previously unknown freedom as members of the insurgent groups. Their access to weapons had given these youngsters a certain power position that they were not willing to give up voluntarily. The innumerable roadblocks in southern Somalia, guarded by young and often Qat-chewing militias, so-called Moorjans (looters), are a visible sign that banditry and looting still form an important part of the lifestyle for many young men. In Mogadishu the Moorjans are nowadays among the main security problems (Marchal, 1997).
Due to the fact that the insurgent groups were organised as a federation of local recruits and relative autonomous sub-clan groups and thereby lacking the clear structure of authority of more formalised military formations, conflicts between the leaders of the sub-clans and the central leadership were pre-assigned. Shortly after the USC entered Mogadishu, latent disagreements between two of the leaders of the USC, General Aideed on the one side and Ali Mahdi, a local businessman, on the other, escalated and led to the first disintegration of the USC. Their competition for state power soon led to new fighting. Since both Ali Mahdi and General Aideed were members of the Hawiye Clan, the conflict between them was articulated in an established manner - as a conflict between the two sub-clans of Mahdi and Aideed respectively.18 Both warlords tried to strengthen their power position by mobilising alliances with other clan groups. The establishment of such alliances corresponds to the traditional strategy of communal conflicts in Somalia, where weak clan groups attempt to form alliances even without close kin relations, in order to fight against a common enemy. The warlord is, however, not a traditional position in the social setting of Somalia. Warlords have not emerged from positions as traditional authorities, but mainly from former urban ‘petty bourgeoisie’, i.e. military, political or economic elites who came to power during the reconstitution of the state in the post-colonial era. Their claim to represent clan-interests is nowadays continuously challenged by the emerging political and economic actors who are gaining power in the course of this long lasting war. While the infighting within the USC continued in Mogadishu, former president Barre fled to his home region Gedo, and attempted to mobilise his clansmen in the Somali National Front (SNF). In the southern Somali triangle between Mogadishu, Kismayo and Baidoa intensive clashes between fractions either connected to Siad Barre, General Aideed or Ali Mahdi, escalated. These fights took place in the agriculturally important regions, and the clashes then acquired a new economic quality. The different Hawiye and Darood militias soon occupied the fertile lands of the unarmed and military less experienced sedentary clans (cf. Besteman and Cassanelli, 1996). These fights were accompanied by mass-executions, rape and the deployment of slave labour. In context of the historical claim of superiority by the nomadic clans over the sedentary clans (cf. Casanelli, 1988), in the case of the so-called Bantu even articulated as racial inferiority, the language of clan interests won a new dimension. It was now used as an ideological justification of the brutal actions directed against the sedentary people and at the same time as an idealisation of the occupiers as freedom fighters.
While the violent competition for land continued in the south, the robbery and looting in the cities increased. Between 1991 and 1993 a decisive amount of machines, copper etc. was exported (UNDP, 2001:144). It can be assumed that some of the looters accumulated considerable profit from these economic activities. In contrast to the looting youth gangs, these economic entrepreneurs must have had considerable knowledge of the international trade networks. In order to establish an export system, these actors must have organised their crimes well, and thus, they were hardly newcomers in the economic establishment (Ibid.).19 In addition to profits from looting, many of the former traders had adapted the informal trading networks to the war situation. Shortly after the collapse of the state in 1991 it was the trade with the narcotic Qat that offered a particularly lucrative source of income (Green, 1999:44).20
In order to protect themselves against violent robberies, these businessmen had to cooperate with actors of violence. The Qat trade was thereby not only an important income for the business class, but also for the associated warlords and their militias (Ibid.). The businessmen paid the warlords for the protection of their goods, and the clan militias secured the safe passage of the transport-vehicles through the numerous checkpoints and roadblocks. Currently, about ten planes enter Somalia from Nairobi daily, carrying about 7.000 tonnes of Qat worth around US$50 million a year. Due to the profitability of this trade, the control of ports and airports is another important source of income. The Somali traders as well as international organisations, which form an important part of the Somali war economy (cf. Mubarak, 1997; Gundel, 2003), have to pay rent for the usage of ports and airports. Additionally, the traders are forced to pay taxes for the imported goods. Since no single militia has managed to establish control of the international airports in Somalia, each major city now has its own landing strips. Along the Somali coastline a considerable number of ‘natural’ ports are in use. While the new Somali business class uses this infrastructure for their import and export trade, the taxes and fees linked to this trade is a financial basis of many warlords and their militias.21
As a source of finance, the remittance industry today hardly supports the various violent factions. Originating mainly from ‘wider diaspora’, remittances are delivered to family-members, thereby maintaining the traditional system of reciprocal obligation. The remittances are, however, important for the reconstruction of an internal market in Somalia, as most of the production inside Somalia functions in only a rudimentary fashion. The rising demand for imports connects Somalia to the world market and to international trading networks. The import of food, clothes, electronic goods, Qat and cigarettes is contrasted by a much lower export of livestock,22 a few other agricultural products, and charcoal. The imports are however not only directed at the consumers in Somalia, but are re-exported to the neighbouring countries of Ethiopia and Kenya. The profits from this trade are concentrated in the hands of only a few traders and warlords, while the bulk of the Somali population is still experiencing extreme poverty and high levels of social and physical insecurity (Le Sage and Majid, 2002).
The cooperation between warlords and the business class is essential to conflict dynamism and the reproduction of the Somali warlord system. In the absence of state regulations, the traders and the warlords have opted for a more or less voluntary and for both sides profitable agreement. This system is based on the appropriation of fast and short-term profits from trade and is not directed at the development of sustainable production capacities. Since there are no juridical regulations and guarantees, the necessary trust between entrepreneurs and warlords is established on the basis of the common affiliation to a certain clan- or sub-clan. However, the foundation of this trust is brittle. Various newly arrived businessmen have mobilised their own militias, in competition with their former partners, and have thereby contributed to the further disintegration of insurgent groups.23 The expansion of the national and international trading structures further destabilises the fragile alliances between the business class and the warlords. The unstable order of the warlord system is economically inefficient, too expensive and insecure. Although the business class pays fees at the checkpoints and roadblocks of the various factions, increasingly the protection money does not guarantee reliable security for the transport of goods as the danger of looting and robbery prevails. Meanwhile, parts of the business class represent a driving force in the search for alternative security arrangements such as the establishment of district and regional administrations, or the support of Sharia courts that have in some districts previously guaranteed at least a minimum of security. Up until today, however, none of these alternatives have shown significant success. The main challenges to the establishment of stable authority in Somalia concern the distribution of power among the clan elites; how to put an end to the disintegration of the armed fractions along the lines of the sub-clans; how to improve relations between the clans and minorities; how to deal with the question of land ownership, and how to reconstruct the role of traditional authorities. Nearly all the warlords have been integrated into the peace negotiations that have been going on in Kenya since October 2002 but these have not provided any solutions to these major challenges. However, in autumn of 2004, the talks achieved a particular success in their ability to establish a parliament in which the seats are distributed proportionally between the clans. All the important warlords are involved in this parliament. A transitory president, Abdullahi Yussuf, has been named as well as a prime minister and a government. After more than 12 years, Somalia again has a government, with the downside that it resides in Kenya. While negotiations continue, the claims to authority and representation within Somalia are continuously decided upon by means of violence.
UNITA in Angola: A quasi-state order
The peace agreement signed between the government and the insurgent group União Nacional para a Independência Total de Angola (UNITA) in April 2002 marked the beginning of a reconstruction process in a country that had experienced armed conflict since 1961. The armed uprising against the Portuguese colonial power was followed by an internal war after independence in 1975. Multiple causes of the conflict have been recognised such as socio-economic inequality, ideological differences and personal rivalries.24 The war was described as a prime example of a proxy war due to the vast superpower assistance to the warring parties. The easing of bipolarity coincided with peace-making initiatives in 1991 and 1994, which failed to materialise. The death in combat of UNITA leader Jonas Savimbi in February 2002 led, however, to the military victory of the government and a peace agreement was signed shortly thereafter. The continuation of the Angolan war after the end of the Cold War has been explained primarily with reference to the economic interests of the warring parties (cf. Le Billon, 1999; Cilliers & Dietrich, 2000). In particular, the UNITA involvement in the diamond trade was analysed as a prime example of the global economic interactions that contemporary warring parties are engaged in. The main argument here is that the form of authority that UNITA institutionalised was a crucial prerequisite for the establishment of the insurgent economy. The expansion of the diamond trade in the late 1980s could be facilitated by drawing upon the centralised form of organisation that UNITA had established in southeastern Angola since the mid-1970s. In the territories under its control, UNITA established a widely functioning monopoly on the use of force, a viable administrative apparatus and welfare services. This is the basis upon which the UNITA system is here described as a quasi-state form of social order.
The legitimacy of UNITA rule was based primarily on traditions relevant to Ovimbundu communities. Despite the differences between the various pre-colonial Ovimbundu kingdoms in the central Highlands, they had common political traditions and cultural practices. A fundamental characteristic was the belief in the supernatural powers of the king. The king's authority was secured by his knowledge of tradition (cf. Heywood, 2000:1-4). Two models of legitimate authority co-existed: the ‘democratic’ Blacksmith King and the ‘autocratic’ Hunter King (cf. Heywood, 1998). The autocratic authority of the Hunter King was acceptable as long as it served the common good. Although the influence of these authorities declined during colonialism, Ovimbundu traditions were preserved through the integration of Ovimbundu representatives in colonial institutions. Protestant missionaries in the Highlands employed locals in their churches as well as in schools and hospitals. As a consequence, the Ovimbundu emerged as an influential social group in the colonial administration. In their new positions, the Ovimbundu continued to practice their traditions and these merged with the practices of the protestant and colonial institutions. The Ovimbundu thus managed to preserve pre-colonial traditional practices during the colonial era (Ibid. pp. 104-112), and these traditions came to play an integral part in the UNITA insurgent order. Established by Jonas Savimbi in 1966, UNITA presented an eclectic political programme comprising Maoism, nationalism and regionalism, including in particular Ovimbundu culture (Ibid. pp.173, 168). In the late 1960s, UNITA activities were concentrated in the central and eastern areas of the country. Drawing upon the experiences of their core constituency of Ovimbundu in the protestant institutions, UNITA assisted locals in the administration of villages in the eastern province Moxico. In return, the villagers gave the combatants food. This form of division of labour later served as a prototype for the establishment of UNITA military and civilian authority in the south from 1976, with its centre in the insurgent capital Jamba. This regime was upheld until 1992 as UNITA transferred its administration to the central Highlands, the original core Ovimundu area. From the mid-1990s, the insurgent authority disintegrated, and in 1998, their administrative structure was nearly dissolved. At this time, UNITA concentrated almost solely on the control of the diamond trade in the northern and central areas. During the 1970s approximately 250,000 people lived under UNITA authority, and in 1991 this number was assessed to 600,000 to 1 million (Minter, 1994:189).25 The establishment of the centralised territorial control was accompanied by the inauguration of a president, a government and service institutions for the local population. Thus, the UNITA order of violence depicted central characteristics of a state.26
A core aspect of the UNITA form of authority was the inclusion of Ovimbundu traditions and culture. Local communities were integrated into the UNITA system under the leadership of traditional authorities. This was beneficial both to UNITA as well as to the local authorities. The traditional authorities exercised local administrative tasks, and had both their economic reproduction and their positions of authority secured by their relations to the insurgents. UNITA functioned primarily as a sovereign administration and control organ, and assisted in the establishment of health clinics and schools. The influence of Ovimbundu tradition was also visible in the use of the traditional language Umbundu within the insurgent organisation (Ibid. p. 157; Heywood, 1989:48-53). The respect for local tradition and language, the establishment of social services and provision of material goods organised by the insurgents, established the loyalty of civilians to UNITA. This village system was a core element of UNITA administration on the local level. In its central organisation UNITA established modern bureaucratic institutions comprising a president, ministries and a constitution. The vast training and educational courses for military and civilian members underlined a concern with professionalising the insurgent group. However, the formal, quasi-rational political institutions within the UNITA system contributed only in a limited way to the legitimacy of the insurgent authority. The primary form of legitimacy in the UNITA system was based within the village administration and the system of social services. Savimbi's charisma, a factor that has frequently been noted as crucial to the functioning of UNITA authority (cf. Hodges, 2001:18-19; Russel, 2000:104), was indeed an integral part of the administrative apparatus, but was subordinate to the rational and traditional elements, in particular the disciplinary effect of traditional authorities, the enhancement of traditional culture, the vast control system27 and the functioning of the centralised administration for the stability of the UNITA system.
The UNITA authority system was institutionalised in a patrimonial functional logic, according to which economic resources and power positions were distributed along patron-client relations. This system was stabilised through the use of force, applied according to certain rules pertaining in particular to the purpose of eliminating challengers to Savimbi's authority. The use of violence for the purpose of internal cohesion was in disharmony with the social organisation in the UNITA quasi-state, making a tension between violence and legitimacy evident. The use of violence did not, however, necessarily undermine the legitimacy of Savimbi. According to the traditional concept of the ‘Hunter King’, the use of violence for the purpose of stabilising the social order was justified at times of crisis, thus the autocratic elements in Savimbi's reign were acceptable in context of the traditional symbolism.
On top of the generous external support during the 1970s, UNITA became involved in the export of ivory, deer skin, gold, timber and diamonds (Bridgland, 1986:358; Dietrich, 2000a:276). The establishment of international trading contacts during these years provided initial steps for the expansion of the commercial activities during the 1980s. In the 1990s, diamonds were the primary economic resource of the insurgents (Le Billon, 1999:14; Dietrich, 2000a:276). The diamond economy was organised in mines either under direct UNITA control or controlled by foreign firms whose security was provided by UNITA against a fee. From the co-operation with foreign companies UNITA developed competence on diamonds. The breakdown of the 1992 peace agreement led to the withdrawal of many foreign companies, and subsequent to the intensification of military activity in 1997, the involvement of foreigners in the Angolan diamond business declined further (Fowler Report, 2000: paragraph 79). Due to their established competence in the diamond business, UNITA could easily take over the management of the abandoned mines.28 By 1994, UNITA had nearly total control of the Angolan diamond trade. The majority of the diamond workers were garimpeiros (Le Billon, 2001:68) - guest workers from Congo-Zaire.29 The taxation of garimpeiros, collected in cash or diamonds, was a primary source of income for UNITA. The diamond production was subordinated to strong UNITA control, including violent punishment of anyone attempting to withhold diamonds (De Boeck, 2001:555). However, the garimpeiros were crucial to the functioning of the UNITA diamond economy and it was therefore in the interest of the insurgents to minimise the use of violence (Dietrich, 2000b:183). The administration of the diamond areas was also embedded in cultural traditions and symbols. Local traditional authorities were, for example, mobilised in order to secure the authority of UNITA (cf. De Boeck, 1996:78).
The diamond administration was also quasi-formalised through the establishment of a ministry of natural resources (MIRNA) in charge of the organisation of the diamond export. The access to airports and landing strips was crucial in this regard, as both diamonds and foreign trading partners had to be flown in and out of the areas under UNITA control. UNITA controlled a landing strip close to Andulo in the central Highlands until 1999, but thereafter the insurgents lost territorial control and had to rely on ad hoc solutions (Monitoring Mechanism, 2000: paragraph 112). The diamonds were traded against weapons, ammunition, gas, food, uniforms etc. or sold for cash either on local markets or abroad;30 UNITA used middlemen to negotiate goods and prices on their behalf on the world market. A flourishing informal trade in consumer goods also developed in the diamond areas (cf. Dietrich, 2000b:183-184). This was incorporated into the UNITA system as a further source of income through the taxation of goods and the collection of fees for the use of roads and airports. Third-countries, in particular Congo-Zaire and Congo-Brazzaville, were also crucial in the organisation of the diamond sale. The personal relations between the UNITA leadership and government representatives in these countries, kept in place through the distribution of diamonds as patronage, guaranteed the free movement of UNITA representatives in these countries (cf. Fowler Report, 2000: paragraphs 99, 131). Foreign government representatives were thus incorporated into the UNITA patrimonial system.
The UNITA economy was kept under close observation by the leadership. The expansion of the UNITA diamond economy led however to increased internal competition for the access to resources, further enhanced in context of the government's military offensive from 1997. UNITA had to abandon some mines, thereby providing opportunities for gang activities and for UNITA insurgents to make individual gains in the diamond areas. The political changes in the neighbouring countries at this time also made the operation of transit centres and markets for the diamond trade more difficult and, as a consequence, UNITA lost its monopoly position in the diamond trade.
The UNITA system of authority was stabilised both internally and externally through a patrimonial functional logic. During the Cold War, the interactions between UNITA and the external supporters were organised in patron-client relations. UNITA received material support from external patrons and this benefited the establishment of a centralised system of authority and the provision of social services in the Jamba quasi-state. The form of authority was the basis upon which UNITA got involved in the diamond trade in the 1980s and expanded their involvement in the 1990s. When external assistance disappeared, the diamond economy provided the necessary economic resources for upholding the system of authority. Paradoxically, however, the expansion of the diamond economy also caused the erosion of the patrimonial functional logic of the UNITA system. In contrast to the distribution of economic resources in the patronage networks during the Cold War, the diamond economy was based upon the principle of profit maximisation, and this altered the form of interaction with external partners. This principle of rational economic competition was successively transferred to the internal form of UNITA organisation and the leadership soon began to compete for the access to economic benefits. The possibilities of individual enrichment in the diamond economy undermined the patrimonial logic in the UNITA system of authority. The erosion of the traditional legitimacy was compensated by increased use of repression within the UNITA administration as well as in the use of violence against civilians. The UNITA leadership began to disintegrate, and this was further enhanced by the establishment of the government sponsored UNITA-Renovada in 1998. The possibility of accessing the alternative patronage structures of the state made many UNITA members leave the organisation in favour of UNITA-R. By the late 1990s, the UNITA quasi-state system of violence had disintegrated as a result of the contradictions between the patrimonial logic and the demands for rational economic behaviour. The incorporation of two distinct functional logics failed. The military successes of the government were therefore less a result of their military competence and more a result of the instabilities within UNITA.
Conclusion: Orders of violence between warlord systems & quasi-states
In the cases of Somalia and Angola, two distinct forms of insurgent social orders were analysed that can be represented as the opposite poles on a continuum of orders of violence beyond the state: a warlord system on the one extreme, and a quasi-state system of violence on the other. The ordering principle along this continuum is the level of institutionalisation of authority within the order of violence. Here we discuss the main characteristics according to which the level of institutionalisation of such orders can be clarified. Our suggestion is that the analytical engagement with other empirical orders of violence in terms of this theoretical perspective is viable for the purpose of establishing a comparative understanding of the contemporary dynamics of violence.
The warlord system represents a weakly institutionalised form of social order. Its main characteristic is the proliferation of violent groups, ranging between ‘largerscale gangsterism at the lower end to quasi-insurgent movements at the upper end’ (Rich, 1999:XI-XVI, XII). Contemporary warlord systems emerge as a result of the erosion of state structures and its economic foundation. But warlord systems also contribute considerably to the erosion of the state. Certain warlord systems may strive to replace the state, but the control of the state is not necessary for the continuation of the social order of the warlord (Clapham, 1998). The warlord system must not necessarily lead to the complete collapse of the state as in Somalia, but may also emerge in areas in which the state has lost control or is unwilling to establish control, such as in Chad (Charlton and May, 1989). The eroding interest in the control of state structures combined with the proliferation of armed groups explains the erroneous comparisons of warlord systems to political chaos and anarchy. A warlord system is in fact also a form of political order. Even if the tendency of disintegration indicates that the single warlords are unable to stabilise political authority through the institutionalisation of legitimacy, the whole system of warlordism is embedded in local society, e.g. in Somalia in the segmentary order of the clan system. Even as a temporary phenomenon, a partial support from certain individuals or social groups in the territory within which a warlord system operates, is necessary in order to stabilise the position of the warlord. And even if warlords are primarily interested in personal enrichment, they differ from gangsters, bandits and other criminals because of these ties to the local and regional social structure. In order to sustain, warlords must establish a minimum of social order within their organisation as well as in their relationship to civilians.31
In the process of mobilising support, warlords do not usually present complex political agendas or ideologies and, as such, they differ from insurgent movements in the ‘classic‘ wars of de-colonisation. The local power position of the warlord draws upon personal loyalties and the legitimacy of the warlord is therefore a continuation of the hybrid forms of legitimacy in contemporary Third World states. In many post-colonial states, an abstract loyalty of the people to the state, i.e. national consciousness, did not develop. In absence of a clear distinction between the private and the public spheres, the loyalties remained tied to the social sub-formations in which people saw their needs for social and material security met. Due to the continuous deinstitutionalisation of the state, the local structures are not only the primary basis of social security but function in addition as the primary guarantor of physical security and material survival. These ‘survival units’ (Elias) become the main source of legitimacy for the warlords, who can appeal to the norms and symbols of these local units for the purpose of recruiting followers. In Somalia, for example, politics is highly localised and small survival units are created through subdivided clan-relations.32
Patron-client relations and the religiously founded prestige and charisma of the warlord can further contribute to legitimacy. In addition to the rural reservoirs of recruits, warlords may also appeal to young men in the large cities who are disillusioned by unemployment and social insecurity. The few opportunities of regular work imply that participation in a warlord system can give youth respect as armed fighters (Lock, 2000; Richards, 1996). Economic dependencies may further explain the local and social embeddedness of a warlord's authority. By redistributing economic resources to dependants and their families, warlord systems fulfil the function of providing for the local population. This enables warlords to draw upon the traditional principle of reciprocity for establishing support from the local population. Thus, a warlord system ensures the support of the combatants and civilians due to a certain combination of traditional symbolism and violence. In context of an eroding or collapsed state, the warlord system is therefore not an expression of political chaos but represents an adjusted, but highly localised, form of social order beyond the state.
Certain similarities between the warlord system and traditional violent self-help systems33 as a form of order are evident, particularly in the traditional legitimacy of warlord systems, but also in the integration of military, economic and political qualities in the person of a warlord. Violence functions simultaneously as a means to securing personal authority, and as means to the appropriation of material resources. In contrast to the self-help system of traditional societies however, the economic foundation of the warlord system is not organised primarily according to the principle of kinship and reciprocity.
In regard to the means of economic reproduction in warlord systems, the economic approach to war emphasises violent robbery and appropriation of resources. Such strategies might make certain actors rich, but they have a tendency to exhaust the resource base (Riekenberg, 1999:190), and can therefore function only as timely limited means to economic reproduction.34 Other means of economic reproduction are necessary in order to establish an economic foundation that is conducive to the stabilisation of the authority of the warlord. Such activities may be the ‘taxation’ of local firms, multinational companies, and international aid organisations.35 The control of economically viable regions and traffic junctions is a source of collection of taxes and toll money. With the control of local markets and access to international trading networks, the warlords can establish a trade economy in both legal and illegal goods.36 The mobilisation of support from the local population in the form of a duty to deliver a portion of the harvest or other goods to the warlord organisation, further contributes to the establishment of a warlord economy. In sum, the warlord systems combine various forms of material reproduction and are not exclusively dependent on the use of violence in their economy, on a family-economy or a modern exchange based economy.
The economic successes of a warlord system can, however, threaten its specific form of organisation. Initially, the warlord will support the expansion of trading networks, but in context of the warlord economy, civilian markets may emerge that undermine the local authority of the warlord. The expansion of taxation and the monopolisation of defence activities may further the transition of a warlord system into a parastate or ‘quasi-state‘ form of organisation, or even to the adoption of formal state structures.37
In contrast to the weakly institutionalised warlord system, the quasi-state system of violence represents a highly institutionalised form of social order. The quasi-state system describes an insurgent group that has institutionalised its authority within the borders of a formal state to such a degree that it permanently controls a specific territory and the economic resources within that territory. A necessary condition for the successful establishment of an informal, quasi-state system of violence is the mobilisation of support from civilians and combatants. The embeddedness of the quasi-state in society, ‘empirical statehood’, is a guarantor of such local support. A further necessary requirement for the quasi-state system to be considered legitimate is the implementation of certain rules and norms. Both formal rules as well as customs contribute to the legal framework of a quasi-state. The legitimacy of such an order is further underlined by the provision of security within the territory under control as well as through the supply of welfare-services, such as for, example, health-services and education.38
The usage of symbols in order to support a community feeling within a quasi-state system also contributes to its legitimisation. Similarly, nationalisation processes have historically contributed to the identification of its citizens with the state, with armed groups appealling to traditions and customs in order to make their followers as well as civilians under their control identify with the group and their territory. The processes through which quasi-state systems of violence are institutionalised vary considerably. These must, therefore, be examined in case studies in which specific attention is given to how the insurgent groups establish legitimacy. The three ideal typical forms of legitimacy introduced by Max Weber have proven useful for the conduct of such analysis (Stuvøy, 2002). In order to administer civilians and market the available economic resources on the territory under its control, the quasi-state system needs an organisational apparatus. Due to this requirement for expansive administration and the development of increasingly rationalised rules and procedures, a partial ‘bureaucratisation’ is to be expected in a quasi-state system of violence, as seen in the partial ‘bureaucratisation’ of the UNITA form of authority.39
A consequence of the expansion and specialisation of the organisational apparatus of a quasi-state system of violence is the increase in administrative costs. To be sustaining, the quasi-state must therefore expand its means of economic reproduction. For that purpose, the availability of economic resources and access to the world market is crucial. While the warlord system can rely on ad hoc solutions to secure economic reproduction, the quasi-state is dependent upon establishing longer-term solutions in order to meet the necessities of its administrative apparatus. Furthermore, the quasi-state system must be able to coordinate its economic activities. Consequently, the social forms of economic interaction within a quasi-state change considerably in comparison to the economic activities in the warlord system. Since its administration functions according to specified rules, both of a legal-rational and traditional character, the forms of economic activities in the quasi-state system of violence must be linked to sustainability concerns. It can, therefore, be expected that robbery and abductions do not represent prime economic activities in such an order of violence. Coercive appropriation may still be practiced, but is hardly the main form of economic reproduction. In fact, violence is minimised due to the emphasis on trade and production. The institutionalised organisational apparatus as well as the monopoly of use of force within the territory under control enables the quasi-state system to establish a production system and a trading economy in e.g. diamonds, rubber, weapons, and drugs.
The lack of formal recognition implies that on the world market, representatives of the quasi-state interact primarily with the informal and criminal spheres. The adoption of embargo measures or sanctions against quasi-state systems can further hamper their access to international partners. But such measures also accelerate the informal and criminal activity.40 This underlines that flexibility and adaptability in the economy of the quasi-state are crucial requirements for the sustainability of their practices and forms of interaction with the global market. The quasi-state system must, for example, be able to respond to sudden changes in the international environment in order to be sustained. The impact of external influences on the internal structure of the quasi-state must be addressed in case studies, in order to understand how the system responds to changes in the external environment.
The legitimacy of a social order of violence encompasses ideas, economic and power interests, as well as the use of force. In addition to examining the loyalties of the combatants to the elites, the discursive process of justifying and legitimising the use of force within a specific order must be studied. The specific legitimacy of a certain order is particularly important because it informs about the level of institutionalisation of the order of violence. This is the key to understanding the level of stability of a specific order.
The comprehension of the legitimacy of specific forms of authority in violent conflicts enhances the understanding of conflict dynamism because it provides insight excluded in the exclusively rational economic focus in concepts such as predation and patron-client relations. An interest in the form of social embeddedness of violent actors and their strategies also raises new challenges for conflict resolution. Focusing on the legitimacy of social orders of violence might represent an avenue for the future stabilisation of such orders as social orders of peace, thus making alternative forms of political community conceivable.