Time to take a fresh look at Darfur

By Julie Flint

Friday, April 13, 2007

In the fifth year of Darfur's war, it's time to take a fresh look at the conflict. In the newspapers, the stories of death, displacement and rape are unchanged from 2004, when the world first awoke to the enormity of the catastrophe. The firestorm of those days encouraged parallels with the genocide in Rwanda 10 years earlier. Today, however, much has changed: The war has entered a new and much more complicated phase. If we want to find a solution we must deal with the realities of today, not read from an outdated script.

The Darfur of 2007 is not the Darfur of 2003-2004. In those dark days the government-supported Janjaweed militias, wholly integrated into the regular army, unleashed a maelstrom of violence that could be described, with reasonable accuracy, as "Arabs" attacking non-Arabs, or "Africans." Today, that simple picture has been replaced by periods of relative quiescence punctuated by flares of brutality which are, as often as not, among Arabs or between different rebel groups. The Janjaweed and the army sometimes operate together - although not as they used to, with a unified structure and single command and control. But not always. Today the Janjaweed have a life of their own. Some of their attacks fit the pattern of the government war and target the tribes from where the rebels draw most of their support - primarily the Fur and the Zaghawa. Others do not.

The government has created a monster it cannot control even if it wanted to. In South Darfur recently, two Arab tribes armed by the government have been fighting not the Fur, as they once did, but each other. The government always claimed that the conflict in Darfur was a little local trouble. That has become a self-fulfilling prophecy as the old tribal authorities have been replaced by militants armed to the teeth.

I traveled in Darfur in 2004, in 2005, and again last month. I collected eyewitness testimony behind rebel lines, interviewed prisoners of war held by the rebels, and read documents captured on the battlefield. All made clear that many senior army officers not only dislike the abusive behavior of the Janjaweed, but want no part of it.

In several parts of Darfur, rebels have made contact with Janjaweed tribes and are working toward an accommodation with them. Joint markets have been established where Arabs and non-Arabs are rebuilding some of the ties and reciprocity that existed before the war. Stray and stolen animals are being returned and token compensation paid for animals that cannot be returned. Animal migration routes are not yet open, but both sides are trying to normalize relations between Arab herders and non-Arab farmers by creating safe spaces where both can breathe. All this away without international assistance or protection.

Several hundred former Janjaweed fighters have joined the rebel Sudan Liberation Army. A handful want to testify to the International Criminal Court (ICC) and are seeking ways to do that. Rebel leaders believe the recent ICC summons against two suspected war criminals - the current deputy minister for humanitarian affairs, Ahmad Mohammad Harun, and Janjaweed leader Ali Kushayb - will act as a deterrent to future Janjaweed attacks. The latest recruits are telling the rebels that many Janjaweed fear that Khartoum will throw them to the lions in The Hague in an attempt to save its own skin.

In North Darfur, the abusive regime of Minni Minawi, the former rebel leader turned government ally, has been crushed and the relief, the delight, of civilians is palpable. The rebel commanders who now control the North are not imprisoning and killing them, and extorting crippling "revolutionary taxes" from them, as Minawi's men did.

"Minni's men treated the civilians very badly," said a tribal leader who was himself imprisoned. "They took money, animals and food aid. If you protested, you were beaten or killed."

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But international policy on Darfur is taking no account of the new reality. There are no attempts to encourage local peacemaking; no attempts to woo Arabs - including Janjaweed - away from the government by including them in the peace process and alleviating their poverty; no attempts to exploit the unhappiness of the army.

What there is, maddeningly, is an exclusive focus on the deployment of a United Nations peacekeeping force with a muscular protection mandate. In the absence of a political process to negotiate a new peace deal, it would have to disarm the Janjaweed before it could begin to protect civilians. Sudan has had only one experience of forcible disarmament, when southern rebels attempted to disarm the untrained village guards of the White Army in Upper Nile last year. It was a disaster. More than 300 rebels died, and many more from the villages that resisted.

The White Army had light weapons and no training. The Janjaweed have heavy weapons and vehicles. Some have received advanced infantry training from Sudanese Military Intelligence.

Darfurians have been encouraged to believe that the UN can protect civilians as well as disarm the Janjaweed and neuter the government army. Their hopes are misplaced. Remember Somalia, Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo, where peacekeepers failed to protect civilians despite robust mandates under Chapter 7 of the UN Charter. Amnesty International said at the time that the UN forces' "record in promoting the security of the civilian population has been little short of disgraceful. The organization has on occasion stood by as civilians have been killed."

Why should Darfur be different, especially with the pick of the UN crop now in Lebanon?

If UN troops don't pose a real threat to Khartoum, why does Sudanese President Omar Bashir refuse them? Because it's an easy political win for him: He gets the credit for standing up to the Americans and the UN, knowing that their threats are mere bluster. He ties the West down in a cul-de-sac of sterile confrontation while regime hard-liners get on with their business in Darfur, putting in place their own cadres and buying off weak and isolated rebel commanders under the guise of implementing peace. Bashir may not have a clear game plan for Darfur, but he knows what he doesn't want: the international community controlling the region.

The moral impulse to do something to end Darfur's misery is overwhelming. But America and Europe have lost much of the leverage they had when the Comprehensive Peace Agreement between the government and the Sudan People's Liberation Army (SPLA) was signed in January 2005. In an ideal world we ought to be able to dispatch peacekeeping troops who would protect civilians irrespective of the wishes of the government that bears so much responsibility for their suffering. In the real world of tough choices, we need to focus on what can actually be achieved. In Darfur, peace is possible - but not the now-dead Darfur Peace Agreement. In Sudan as a whole, both the government and the SPLA are rearming, anticipating a renewed war. This crisis, potentially bigger and more alarming than the conflicts in Darfur today, can be avoided - but only if the world takes notice.

Darfur policy is in a rut. This suits those who want to continue business as usual, including Sudan's Military Intelligence. Those who care about solutions should take a new look at Darfur - and Sudan as a whole.

Julie Flint has written extensively on Sudan. She is the author, with Alex de Waal, of "Darfur: A Short History of a Long War." She wrote this commentary for THE DAILY STAR.