Introduction
The civil war which broke out in Sierra Leone in March 1991 is among Africa's most brutal conflicts since the end of the Cold War. It is estimated that 75,000 people were killed, and 2.5 million people internally displaced or exiled (Sawyer 2008). The pre-war local governance architecture over which chiefs presided and its attendant excesses have been identified as a major trigger of the civil conflict (Richards 1996, 2003, 2005; Chauveau and Richards 2008; Government of Sierra Leone 2010; Mokuwa et al. 2011). During the war and the immediate post-war years, the institution of chieftaincy was therefore portrayed as backward, oppressive and anti-democratic, and it was felt that it should be abolished, or at best reformed. However, the institution has survived largely intact, retaining many of its pre-war features (Mokuwa et al. 2011). In addition to chiefs, a number of other local actors have (re)surfaced, including the local councils, the reinstated District Officers and a growing number of non-governmental organisations (NGOs), working on peacebuilding and alternative dispute resolution mechanisms, as well as other schemes that are supposedly meant to improve the wellbeing of rural communities.
This article, which investigates the tensions between chiefs and NGOs in rural Sierra Leone, is a result of a bigger study of the politics of decentralisation undertaken by the writer as part of his doctoral programme. Research was carried out over one and a half months (September–October 2012), and the focus was on an Alternative Dispute Resolution (ADR) project (the Quest for Peace) implemented by two local NGOs in six chiefdoms in Bombali District, northern Sierra Leone.1 The project was chosen for investigation because it represented an interesting case of ADR in which the tensions between chiefs and NGOs seeking to reshape rural judicial processes were clearly manifested; and the collective experiences of the chiefdoms provide a framework for a contextual understanding of the basis on which ADR programmes may succeed.
Given that the project had ended before the research, data collection was mainly carried out through key informant interviews with chiefs, NGO staff and community peace volunteers (CPVs), as well as through focus group discussions with villagers.2 Except with NGO staff and paramount chiefs, all interviews and focus group discussions were in Krio, the local lingua franca. Although the research was based on a case study approach, it nonetheless drew on data from other chiefdoms outside Bombali, thus reflecting experiences in other districts.3
This article suggests that, although chieftaincy in Sierra Leone remains very relevant (Sawyer 2008), it continues to be a contentious institution whose members, amidst post-conflict reforms, have sought to reinvent themselves as cooperative and developmental, even ostentatiously so, while perpetuating an exploitative chiefdom governance system that predates the conflict. The rural poor continue to suffer under the oppression of chiefs, who have subtly refined their mode of accumulation in a strategy of concealment intended to distort the actual state of the institution, as they adapt themselves to reform programmes even if these are sometimes intended to curtail their powers. Whereas ADR mechanisms promoted by NGOs might be well intentioned, the manner in which they are implemented has led to perceptions of mistrust among chiefs, who in turn undermine the goals of such programmes, sometimes making chieftaincy seem even better.
The institution of chieftaincy: a historical background
The institution of chieftaincy as it now exists in Sierra Leone is a legacy of colonialism. Faced with the practical difficulties of ruling over the protectorate (Chauveau and Richards 2008), the British resorted to using chiefs as a means of maintaining law and order in chiefdoms, and to some extent providing a limited range of social services (Barrows 1976; Cartwright 1978; Tangri 1980; Alie 1990; Berewa 2011). Before colonialism, the powers of chiefs were largely restricted and rested mainly on their reputation and ability for service provision, force of character and popularity (Tangri 1980). With the advent of colonialism, this changed considerably, with chiefs being given a wide range of powers that were frequently abused (Barrows 1976; Reno 1995).
An integral part of the chieftaincy system since its creation has been the Native Court, presided over by chiefs (Cartwright 1978; Fanthorpe and Gaima 2012), who in the colonial period were given jurisdiction mostly in cases that were not criminal in nature, and had nothing to do with ‘[p]retended witchcraft, slave raiding, dealing in slaves or cases arising out of a faction or tribal fights’ (Kilson 1966, 16). The chiefs also imposed in many instances exorbitant fines (Cartwright 1978; Mokuwa et al. 2011), and supplemented their incomes with rebates derived from the collection of local taxes (Fanthorpe 2004). In addition to revenue derived from the poll tax and court fines, in 1902 forced labour from which chiefs benefited was officially recognised (Reno 1995).
In essence, the state became excessively patrimonial and, as long as the chiefs maintained law and order, and did not threaten the interests of their ‘colonial masters’, they held their positions not on the basis of the acceptance of their people, but at the behest and pleasure of their masters in Freetown (Berewa 2011). When the country gained independence in 1961, unlike other African states such as Ghana, where there were tensions between the new independent leaders and chiefs as a result of the latter's perceived collaboration with the colonial authorities (Rathbone 2000), in Sierra Leone the position of chiefs, rather than diminishing, was given an even greater recognition than during the colonial period.4 Tangri (1980, 188) notes that:
The chiefs were not regarded as colonial ‘stooges’ who were used to impose unpopular measures on their people. Specific chiefs were certainly condemned for abuse of power but there was no campaign in Sierra Leone during the 1950s which either denigrated or demanded the abolition of the institution of chieftaincy.
Perhaps this is unsurprising given that many of the leaders of the Sierra Leone People's Party, whch had led the campaign for independence, were either chiefs or the direct relations of chiefs (Kilson 1966; Tangri 1980; Robinson 2010; Fanthorpe, Lavali, and Gibril 2011; Harris 2012). With the advent of independence, the relationship between chiefs and central governments became highly reciprocal, as ruling parties, in exchange for grassroots political support, granted chiefs considerable control over the administration of their chiefdoms (Tangri 1980). Chiefs thus became clients of ruling parties, a situation that further worsened the corruption of the institution, and their desperate attempt to always do the bidding of their political patrons, including delivering votes during elections by whatever means, and their oppression of rural communities meant that they were to be identified as one of the causes of the country's civil conflict (Chauveau and Richards 2008; Mokuwa et al. 2011).
Chiefs and the civil conflict
The causes of Sierra Leone's conflict have been the subject of much debate. Some maintain that the country's civil war was fuelled by greed (Collier 2000). Other arguments are less focused on greed as a cause of the conflict, but identify the deteriorating and dysfunctional governance structures and practices under which the country was governed, as a cause for the systemic alienation of many young people who later became attracted to the fighting forces as a form of expressing grievance (Richards 1996; Abdullah 1997; Peters 2011; Kandeh 2012; Zack-William 2012). At the local level, some have identified as a major cause of the civil conflict the socio-economic organisation of chiefdom administration presided over by chiefs, in which a slave culture, despite its prohibition, was perpetuated by traditions and customs intended to regulate the conjugal rights of young people, through a bridal court system devised to secure free labour for chiefs and their clients (Richards 2005; Jackson 2006; Chauveau and Richards 2008; Mokuwa et al. 2011).
Although the conflict officially ended in 2002, some are of the view that peacebuilding and consolidation programmes including chiefdom governance reforms, initiated and supported by development agencies, may have re-created the very causes that triggered the war (Hanlon 2005; Kandeh 2008). In particular, chiefs have been reinstated whose governance excesses were considered to be responsible for the alienation of many of the rural youths who later joined the Revolutionary United Front rebels. These chiefs are now performing their pre-war roles, albeit with some restraint. Can the institution of chieftaincy be replaced? This and other questions are what this piece seeks to answer, by examining the interaction between chiefs, NGOs and communities in the Quest for Peace project.
Why the Quest for Peace project?
Sierra Leone's civil conflict not only devastated the country's economic and physical infrastructure, it also destroyed trust, and adversely affected societal values and norms. For many, especially young people, violence has become a frequently used tool for the settling of disputes, no matter how serious. In many of the chiefdoms in Bombali District, there are existing conflicts ranging from those emanating from disputed claims over land, intra- and inter-school and ethnic conflicts, to those between cattle rearers and crop farmers (interview, NGO staff, Makeni, 4 September 2012).
It was against this background that two local NGOs with support from their external partners intervened in the communities, with the broader goal of the promotion of peaceful co-existence and community development, through the enhancement of the capacity of communities in peacebuilding processes. Nominally, the project was intended to assist individuals and groups to become creative and effective community peacebuilders, thereby reducing the number of cases referred to chiefs, whose method of dispute resolution was based on the imposition of exorbitant fines which many cannot afford (interview, NGO staff, Makeni, 4 September 2012). Specifically, it was hoped that the project would contribute to an in-depth understanding of the causes and effects of war, and the need to prevent the same in communities; develop and promote innovative non-violent conflict resolution methods; encourage the practical demonstration of the knowledge gained in the project as a means of enhancing peace; and support reconciliation and reintegration in post-conflict communities.
Nonetheless, the seemingly neutral motives of NGO interventions are normally at odds with their results which often demonstrate that development can be highly political (Kothari 2001). Rural Sierra Leone has become a contested space in which chiefs no longer enjoy a monopoly over governance as they continually compete with other actors including NGOs, some of which have noted their determination not to work with, or through, chiefs while they implement projects.5 Thus, while the goals of the Quest for Peace project seemed politically neutral, it is hard to see how it would not have subtly or otherwise displaced or disrupted the power and traditional revenue streams of chiefs, as we shall discover.
The methodology of the Quest for Peace: ‘I see and hear, but I don't understand’
The Quest for Peace was based on two educational tools borrowed from the Netherlands and Bangladesh – a film titled Finding Courage, also known as Quest for Peace, and an illustrated story book which complemented the film, titled A Little Elephant Finds His Courage. The book recounted real-life stories written by children and families from a number of post-conflict countries, including Sierra Leone. The story vividly illustrates how a little elephant is able to develop the courage for himself and his mother to bravely put up with adversity following the disappearance of his father, while assisting other animals fighting in the jungle. Both tools were intended to teach school pupils and adults a number of moral lessons. First, by graphically showing adults and young people (who were not yet born at the time of the country's civil conflict) a film that depicts violence and its effects, they might come to appreciate the causes and negative effects of conflict and endeavour to prevent it. Second, it was hoped that both tools would promote the values of love, unity and peaceful coexistence in a community where conflicts would be resolved amicably without resort to violence, chiefs and other civil authority.
However, graphic as the film and story book were, the methodology was fraught with a number of difficulties. First, in some communities, because of the high levels of illiteracy, community participants complained that they did not understand the English language used in the film. Although an attempt was made to translate it into the local dialects of the respective chiefdoms, often the tapes were inaudible. Also, the characters in the film and story book were all animals – mostly elephants, something which resonated well with some children, but not with the adults. In fact, none of the participants had seen an elephant. Different people perceived the film and story differently. For some, indiscriminate fighting and bullying was a natural feature of the behaviour of animals and, thus, what was expected of them. For others, it was impracticable for animals to fight wars, as war was the exclusive preserve of humans. In other communities, people noted that the story and film were more or less reflections of the experiences of other societies from which they had been borrowed. This seeming disregard for societal differences reflects the propensity of governance NGOs and other donors to adopt a one-size-fits-all approach to governance reforms, despite contextual dissimilarities (Andrews 2008). In addition, the use of violence depicted in both tools, as a means of preventing violence, had the negative potentiality of achieving some unintended goals, since some of the children copied and practised the violent scenes they saw in the film (interview, community peace activist [CPA], Bombali, 17 September 2012).
The near-impossible task of community peace volunteers
At the centre of the Quest for Peace were CPVs, who were either teachers or other community activists who had interacted with NGOs. In most cases, they constituted the group of ‘village-level reformers’ who have sought to raise awareness among the community on issues of human rights and community development. The CPV concept was by no means new. Given that development partners are sometimes mindful of the risks of directly imposing Western governance standards on sovereign states, they seek to build local alliances (Fanthorpe 2005). In fact, rural Sierra Leone has a plethora of such groups, bearing different names depending on the preference of the funding NGO, but serving similar purposes; and the designation given to such structures ranges from Village Development Committee and Health Management Committee to Facility Management Committee. Often, as elsewhere in West Africa, their creation is uncoordinated, given that each NGO operates in isolation, thus ensuring that their existence is dependent on the resources provided by the funder, making them essentially ephemeral (Olivier de Sardan 2009).
Generally, the CPVs had two roles. First, they were to contribute to the maintenance of peace, ensuring that family and community conflicts were prevented. Second, they were to mediate and resolve all disputes within their communities in a non-violent manner, ensuring that the former did not get out of control. Given the sensitivities of the chiefs and the history of mutual suspicion that had existed between many of them and some of the CPVs, the fears of the chiefs were assuaged as they were told that the CPVs would refrain from intervening in cases that had to do with witchcraft, murder, divorce and other cases which were criminal in nature (interview, NGO community coordinator, Mapaki, 18 September 2012). Although chiefs are not allowed to deal with criminal cases such as murder, they have always overstepped their boundaries given their historical role, and the absence of civil authorities such as magistrate's courts and the police in many communities has sometimes necessitated the overstretching of their remit (interview, chairman of the National Council of Paramount Chiefs, Freetown, 29 October 2013).
Nonetheless, given their successful intervention in a few family cases and their newfound status as the representatives of the NGOs, the CPVs became emboldened and started questioning the authority of the sub-chiefs to impose fines on parties to conflicts, and the abuse of the rights of community members, particularly those accused of witchcraft. In rural Sierra Leone, where chiefs have held sway for decades and exercised a near monopoly over local governance, including presiding over largely unaccountable courts, a challenge to their powers is necessarily considered a transgression of their rights and privileges, since the monitoring of native courts, as the CPVs were doing, is an act which some chiefs regard as an ‘intrusion’ and is bound to attract their resentment (interview, chairman of the National Council of Paramount Chiefs, Freetown, 29 October 2013).
Generally, the work of the CPVs was never an easy one, and in many ways, the conditions under which they operated epitomised some of the reasons why reform programmes promoted from outside are rarely sustained even if they are well intentioned. The notion of volunteerism, on which the ADR mechanism was built, intuitively undermined the effectiveness of the CPVs, as well as their sustainability. Arguably, the resilience of chieftaincy, despite its excesses, and as opposed to NGO-inspired ad hoc structures set up to reshape rural judicial processes, rests on the fact that the institution is deeply embedded and has been sustained over time by a socio-political system which has guaranteed it certain privileges which few other sets of local actors enjoy. Thus, while chiefs have diverse revenue streams, CPVs were unremunerated, causing many to leave their communities in search of greener pastures with the multinational corporations operating in the district, essentially allowing the limited gains they had made to be reversed (interview, NGO community coordinator, Mapaki, 18 September 2012).
Explaining success in the Quest for Peace
Despite the challenges of the CPVs, the Quest for Peace had successes especially at the initial stages, which could be explained by a host of factors. A system of arbitrating disputes without the imposition of exorbitant fines, in a congenial manner, by ordinary community members would definitely attract more complainants than native courts notorious for their extortion. Thus, in many of the communities, the CPVs became the first port of call for parties to a conflict; and, as one focus group participants noted:
We have realised that conflict fosters enmity among community members, and when we are involved in one, we don't go to the chiefs as they like money. The CPVs don't ask us for money. We are happy that now we can settle our disputes without going to the chiefs or police.6
Perhaps more than anything, the arbitration of the CPVs inspired considerably more confidence in the community than the native courts, which have been known to be more interested in fines than dispensing justice; in some instances collecting money from both complainants and defendants without arbitrating in the disputes (Fanthorpe and Gaima 2012). In addition, the peacebuilding element embedded in the approach of the CPVs provided a basis for them to venture into ‘uncharted waters’, to the extent of arbitrating inter-communal disputes which had festered for decades, unlike the antagonistic nature of the native courts, in which both complainants and defendants seek to reap off the other, in a system in which the extortion of money is valued more than the peace of the community. Also, the recognition that age plays an important role in the social processes of African societies (Chabal and Daloz 1999) and the inclusive and participatory style adopted in some communities fostered an atmosphere of trust in which the chiefs did not regard the CPVs as rivals, but collaborators.
Nowhere were the success factors demonstrated more than in the resolution of a dispute between two villages in the Paki Masabong Chiefdom, which had persisted for over three decades. Residents of the neighbouring villages Mayagba and Makona had co-existed peacefully and shared many things in common until in the 1970s, when an international NGO wanted to construct a primary school for them (interview, NGO community coordinator, Mapaki, 18 September 2012). Mayagba was chosen to host the school with the hope that it was going to serve the two communities. Residents of Makona objected and decided to construct their own community school, instead of sending their children to Mayagba. The disagreement over the location of the school easily spread to adversely affect other aspects of community life, including intermarriages. Fortuitously, the two villages were selected to participate in the Quest for Peace, and during the training of the CPVs before their deployment, those who came from the villages resolved to settle the conflict that had festered for so long. Each group of CPVs convened a meeting of their village's elders and trouble-makers, explaining the need to resolve their differences with the neighbouring village. A joint meeting of the elders of the villages, facilitated by the NGOs, was then convened. The meeting led to a reunion and a reconciliation football match between the two villages (Ibid.).
Chiefs and the Quest for Peace: ‘In public we cooperate, in private we disrupt’
The paramount chief represents the first entry point in the 149 chiefdoms of Sierra Leone. It is customary for strangers and other visitors to first visit the chief before embarking on any activity within their chiefdoms. Such is the position of paramount chiefs that when NGOs go to implement projects, the former are often the first to be consulted. This is because, regardless of how some of them are perceived, the institution still commands respect and can undermine initiatives that do not take their status into account. However, the power base of paramount chiefs is more or less weak, without the network of about 1500 sub-chiefs (section, town and village chiefs) who preside over a chain of native courts (Fanthorpe and Gaima 2012), facilitating the annual collection of local tax and organising communal labour for them.
Despite the frontline role of sub-chiefs, they are unremunerated and highly dependent on court fines. Paramount chiefs, on the other hand, receive salaries, and the central government is favouring them over the local councils in the sharing of locally generated revenue (Jackson 2005, 2006). Those paramount chiefs in chiefdoms with minerals or hosting the operations of multinational corporations are also paid surface rents by the companies; and those more amenable to the central government are appointed to the boards of government-owned parastatals. In some instances, paramount chiefs desirous of an elevated status and increased pecuniary resources have directly appealed to the central government for consideration when appointments to such boards are made. In Bo District, for example, paramount chiefs collectively pleaded with the leadership of the ruling All People's Congress not to forget them when appointments are made to the boards of parastatals.7 Also, many of the paramount chiefs elected after the civil conflict are young and highly educated and had made reasonable fortunes either locally or abroad, before becoming chiefs.
Perhaps given the increased revenue sources of the paramount chiefs, they did not regard the Quest for Peace as a threat to their resources. But the sub-chiefs saw the project, which was intended to resolve community conflicts without the imposition of fines, as a direct threat to their revenue base. One paramount chief noted that the project was welcomed because it provided an additional set of actors in the conflict resolution mechanisms of his chiefdom, and added that:
As chiefs, we knew from the start that the introduction of alternative means of resolving conflict within our chiefdoms will lead to a reduction in our resources since for a long time, we have depended on fines as a source of income. But we are happy since our chiefdoms are peaceful, and this has given us time to engage in other activities including farming. My aim is to become the master farmer in the country. (Interview, paramount chief, Sanda Tenderen Chiefdom, 21 September 2012)
This appears to portray paramount chiefs as cooperative even in the face of attempts by Western-supported local NGOs to undermine the very foundations on which the institution of chieftaincy has existed. It may also indicate that paramount chiefs, conscious of some of the negative perceptions held by the wider public, have developed a rather subtle strategy of portraying themselves as transformed and cooperative, while using sub-chiefs to resist reform measures, in a process akin to ‘concealment’ (Ferme 2001). CPVs alleged that the paramount chiefs instructed the sub-chiefs to cooperate with the NGOs and ‘say all the right words’ in public, but instructed their subordinates to do otherwise in private (interview, CPA, Bombali, 18 September 2012). Indeed, there was clearly an incentive for the paramount chiefs to be hypocritical given that they needed, on the one hand, to portray themselves to the NGOs as cooperative; and on the other, to protect the revenue streams of their sub-chiefs, since they could not afford to pay them from their own resources.
The subverting strategies of chiefs
Apparently, the chiefs had hoped that the project was going to limit its intervention to minor cases. Immediately after the CPVs were deployed, the sub-chiefs referred some of the minor cases brought before their courts to the CPVs, a gesture which the latter appreciated and probably gave them the impression that the cooperation of the former was without limits. Once the sub-chiefs realised that the CPVs were interfering even in serious communal cases such as land disputes and witchcraft, on which huge fines were often imposed on the defaulting parties, and that many people were no longer bringing cases to the sub-chiefs, they started devising strategies to subvert the project.
The idea of chiefs fighting back to undermine the credibility and power of potential rivals is well known, and sometimes they have even resorted to violence in doing so (Koroma 2012). Nonetheless, faced with the rivalry of the CPVs, the chiefs resorted to subtle subverting strategies, some of which go back to the pre-colonial period. For instance, in one of the chiefdoms the chiefs identified the most zealous and vibrant CPVs whom they rationalised were causing the biggest problem, and isolated them for elimination. The first strategy was to find jobs for them with the multinational corporations operating in the chiefdom and district. With the advent of the multinationals, the chiefs were given the privilege to recruit labour for some menial jobs such as grass-planting and stone-breaking along railway tracks. Initially, the jobs frequently went out to chiefs' relatives and supporters, or those who could afford to bribe them (interviews, youths, Safroko Limba Chiefdom, 22 September 2012). But when the CPVs started causing problems for them, ironically they became priority candidates for jobs that had eluded them before the Quest for Peace. It thus became a milder and voluntary form of banishment from the village.
In other chiefdoms where the CPVs could not be eliminated by the offer of jobs, the chiefs resorted to blackmail and intimidatory tactics to keep them at bay. In a notorious case in which a young woman was alleged to have bewitched the son of her neighbour, she was beaten and given a lethal concoction which caused her to bleed profusely (interview, CPA, Bombali, 18 September 2012). When one of the local CPVs enquired about what the woman had done, and why she was subjected to such inhumane treatment, the sub-chiefs accused him of being an accomplice to the ‘crime’, which, if proven by a witch doctor, whose credentials were seldom contested even if he was lying, and often he was, could lead to the CPV receiving the same treatment as that of the hapless woman (Ibid.).
This strategy, employed by the chiefs and other influential individuals in society to silence their opponents and improve their wellbeing and financial status, is by no means new. A similar device was employed during the slave trade when witchfinding among the Temne ethnic group emerged as a potent strategy for the continuous production of slaves (Shaw 1997). Perhaps nothing in rural Sierra Leone can be more demoralising than being accused, rightly or wrongly, of being a witch or wizard. This indeed had the effect of silencing some of the CPVs, and those who could not be cowed by such devices were accused of ‘contempt of court’ when they attempted to monitor native court proceedings, and exorbitant fines were imposed on them. But the difficulties faced by the CPVs were not just caused by greedy chiefs – some of them were caused by the very manner in which the project was implemented by the NGOs.
NGOs, participation and false promises
A feature of rural life in Sierra Leone is the ubiquitous presence of NGOs. There is hardly a village that does not display one signboard or another alerting one to the presence and work of NGOs, whether it is in the provision of agricultural inputs for farmers, the construction of schools and health centres, or school feeding programmes. It has been suggested that the growth and spread of NGOs coincided with the rapid ‘decline in the traditional activities of the state’ (Zack-Williams 1999, 158), and its inability to support vital social services such as education in rural Sierra Leone created a void which was quickly filled by NGOs, a role that has been acknowledged (Nishimuko 2009). Local communities certainly depend on NGOs for many things, and even paramount chiefs acknowledge their importance. As one of them noted, ‘without the NGOs, our people will suffer. The clinic we have here was constructed by one NGO, and they even pay school fees for our children’ (interview, paramount chief, Rowala Chiefdom, 25 October 2013).
Nonetheless, this altruistic portrayal of the work of NGOs is mostly limited to the traditional ones working on education and health etc. Even with them, their ostentatious display of wealth in the form of the ‘state-of-the-art’ land cruisers with which projects are implemented in remote communities, and their relatively higher salaries, have left many with the impression that they are out to reduce their own poverty before that of the ‘poor’ (interview, chairman of National Council of Paramount Chiefs, Freetown, 29 October 2013). In addition, as far as chiefs are concerned, the work of human rights NGOs intended to reshape rural judicial processes has made some of them very antagonistic, painting all NGOs with the same brush. One chief noted that ‘human rights NGOs incite our people against us, and don't teach them about their responsibilities’ (interview, chiefdom speaker, Rowala, 25 October 2013). This statement captures the feeling chiefs have about the NGOs and forms the basis of their suspicions and resistance to NGO interventions.
Personnel from human rights NGOs certainly face a daunting task and, given the sensitivity of the institution they are trying to reform, they claim to be unpeturbed as they argue rightly that resistance is to be expected (interview, NGO staff, Magbruraka, 23 October 2013). Nevertheless, caught in the middle of the resistance of chiefs and the ‘participation fatigue’ of communities, some have resorted to certain unacceptable strategies to secure the involvement of communities in projects. For instance, the two NGOs that implemented the Quest for Peace embarked on a deliberate and somewhat unethical strategy of making false promises to the communities and unrealistically raising their expectations, in a bid to secure their participation in the project (interview, CPA, Bombali, 16 September 2012). Normally, the participation of communities that are the presumed beneficiaries of external intervention is intended to ensure that the resultant change will appropriately reflect their needs (Vincent 2004).
The making of false promises by NGOs to communities in rural Sierra Leone is not new. There is evidence of how NGOs or persons and groups purporting to be working to improve the lives and wellbeing of the poor would often extort monies from unsuspecting villagers as their contribution to projects or registration fees, only never to return after collecting monies from them (Manning 2009). This is perhaps why it may not be surprising when NGOs face resistance from rural communities, given that the latter have been inundated by countless initiatives that seek their continuous participation, only for such initiatives to reproduce the same outcomes as others before them. Fearing the non-acceptance of the Quest for Peace project by the communities, the NGOs made false promises in order to attract their interest. They informed the people that the project was not only going to change perceptions, but that it was also going to produce physical assets such as schools and clinics and help them develop their communities. Each village included in the Quest for Peace was encouraged to form Community Action Groups (CAGs). Each CAG was encouraged to identify a number of projects that the NGOs would support, but the promised support never materialised.
Two examples stand out clearly. In one case, the CAG had identified the construction of a primary school as the most pressing need, and submitted it to one of the NGOs whose staff promised to provide the required roofing sheets. Despite this, up to the end of the project, no roofing sheets were delivered to the CAG. The unfulfilled promise of the NGO led to waning interest from the community in sustaining the gains of the project, and the weekly meetings of stakeholders which the CPVs used to convene had ceased, since people were no longer interested. In another case, the CAG members had identified the establishment of a community farm as their priority, for which the other NGO promised agricultural inputs and implements, which were never delivered. The local CPVs reported that the farmers whom the CAG had organised were disappointed and, worse still, they decided never to take part in any activity organised by the NGO.
The CPVs were also singled out for suspicion by the community, who reasoned that the farming inputs and implements promised by the NGO may have been delivered, but that they converted them to their personal use (interview, CPA, Bombali, 18 September 2012). Thus, despite the successes scored by the CPVs, the unfulfilled promises of the NGOs led to mistrust between them and community members, who saw the former as part of an external scheme of deception, and promised never to participate in the project (Ibid.).
The contradiction of empowerment
The ‘empowerment’ of local communities in chiefdoms in which the Quest for Peace was implemented was an integral part of the aim of the NGOs. Such a goal seemed laudable because empowerment itself is not just about struggles among groups, but also about the personal development of beneficiaries and participants in development projects around which their confidence and identities are enhanced (Waddington and Mohan 2004). However, empowerment in projects is not always straightforward to analyse, since it is often unclear exactly who is to be empowered (Cleaver 2001). Although the NGOs were initially keen and desperate to secure the participation of the communities in the Quest for Peace, they were seldom consulted when certain key decisions were made, or activities organised. For instance, although the CPVs were going to be the users of bicycles, they were never consulted on the specifications of the bicycles that would be suitable to the district's terrain (interview, CPA, Bombali, 16 September 2012).
Throughout the period of project implementation, the NGOs did not establish a permanent presence in the chiefdoms, preferring instead to visit whenever they had activities. This further eroded whatever sense of empowerment and community ownership which had developed, as the NGOs would come to communities prepared with programmes generated without the input of the CPVs, with caterers and public address systems all outsourced from Makeni. In one instance, one of the NGOs organised a peace and reconciliation football match without the knowledge and participation of the CPVs, with everything including refreshments procured by the NGO from Makeni. The CPVs were only attracted to the football field by the public address system, and were disappointed that they were neither informed of the match nor allowed to participate in whatever form. As one of them put it:
We were not paid a penny for the work we did. So we had expected that if any activity was going to be organised here, at least they would have allowed us to take care of the catering so that we could have retained the leftover as some of our benefits. But for them to bring even cooks from Makeni was unacceptable. (Interview, CPA, Bombali, 17 September 2012)
This partial sense of empowerment resulted in the CPVs’ loss of faith in the NGOs, and led to them losing interest in the Quest for Peace. But it also shows how NGOs and other organisations purporting to be empowering and helping the poor ironically end up disempowering them. The quest of the staff of the NGOs to secure kickbacks from the award of catering services and the hiring of musical sets and other arrangements led them to sideline the CPVs (interview, CPA, Bombali, 17 September 2012). Recently, details have emerged of how staff of local councils in northern Sierra Leone demand payments sometimes as high as 10% of the total cost of all projects awarded to contractors (Workman 2011), and it seems it is a practice that some NGO staff have also perfected, even if it means undermining the success of their projects.
Conclusion
I have briefly traced the history of chieftaincy in Sierra Leone and its role in fuelling the country's civil conflict. I have also analysed the implementation of the Quest for Peace project, examining the roles of the key actors including chiefs, CPVs and NGOs. Chiefs continue to be very central to the resolution of community disputes in rural Sierra Leone, despite the ‘image crisis’ which the institution suffered during and immediately after the civil conflict. Given the changing and improving sources of resources of paramount chiefs, many of them have reduced their dependence on court fines, but sub-chiefs are over-dependent on them. The reform of chieftaincy should therefore be wide-ranging involving the sub-chiefs, who are directly responsible for the continued exploitation of the rural poor.
Chieftaincy in its current form is not sustainable and therefore needs reforms; making rural judicial processes, and indeed development more broadly, work for the poor is possible. However, this can only be done when NGOs and chiefs work in collaboration, rather than as competitors. NGOs should seek to influence chieftaincy from within, and not overtly or covertly undermine its powers and privileges, which will only produce limited success. ADR, or reform of chieftaincy in general, can only succeed in a trustful and mutually beneficial relationship in which chiefs do not consider themselves only as losers. Judicial reform initiatives borrowed from outside, when implemented, should be adapted to take into consideration the unique circumstances of Sierra Leone, including the influence of chiefs and their ability to challenge perceived subversion of their powers and privileges.
Rural communities in Sierra Leone have always been willing to collaborate with ‘outsiders’ to better their lives. Nevertheless, their willingness to cooperate in project implementation seems to be waning fast as communities realise that they have become part of a game of exploitation by NGOs. Initially considered redeemers of the poor, especially during the war years, some NGOs have become part of the exploitation of rural communities. Laudable as the initiatives are for which local NGOs secure donor funding, the manner in which they go on to implement projects may sometimes be unethical, disempowering and unaccountable, leaving rural communities sometimes worse off than when the NGOs first intervened. The result is a lack of trust and interest in future projects, even if they are genuinely intended to help communities solve their problems. NGOs certainly need to reform their image, which during the war and immediate post-conflict years became synonymous with ‘hope’ for many communities.