Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and the Joy of Being Able to Celebrate Our Freedom of Religion

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and the Joy of Being Able to Celebrate Our Freedom of Religion – First and foremost, I want to wish anyone who is reading this a very merry Christmas, and for my Jewish friends, a wonderful Hanukkah celebration.  It’s always special when the dates of these two holidays coincide as they do this year.  It makes my Christian family get-togethers with our close Russian friends who are practicing Jews all the more meaningful.  In fact, one of the things we celebrate with them is their ability to openly proclaim their religious heritage and belief.  It is something that they frequently talk about since they couldn't do that without fear of reprisal in Soviet Russia.  Discussing the current trends in Russia, they often express their fears of a return to a time of repression in their native country.

According to the Pew Research Foundation, more than a third of all countries in the world “severely restrict” religious practice.  The U.S. State Department reports that religious persecution is at an all time high, and “all around the world, individuals are subjected to discrimination, violence and abuse, perpetrated and sanctioned violence for simply exercising their faith, identifying with a certain religion, or choosing not to believe in a higher deity at all.”  We are watching entire religious communities in North Africa and the Middle East being all but eradicated.  And across the globe, religious minorities are under attack in every way possible – legally, socially, and mortally.  In sum, religious freedom is becoming increasingly precious.

I've lived and worked in some of these countries and can attest first hand to the chilling effect that religious repression has on individual expression, freedom of conscience, and freedom of choice.  It is no way to live.

It seems appropriate then to reflect on what we have in America –the ability to practice any religion we choose (or none at all), openly and without governmental prejudice.  I have little sympathy for the freedom from religion advocates that are so adamant about ensuring we limit outward displays of the religious nature of our holidays in public places.  I fear that in our zeal to be “inclusive,” with all of our deliberately neutral “happy holiday” greetings and carols, we forget just how special it is that we CAN say “Merry Christmas,” or “Happy Hanukkah,” or any other acknowledgement of the religious origins of a particular holiday or event.   So Merry Christmas everyone.  It’s what I’m celebrating and I’m happy to be able to proclaim it.  After all, why would we want to constrain ourselves when our very freedom to profess our chosen belief is so remarkable?

Corruption in Afghanistan – Does the Ghani Government Have a Chance?

Corruption in Afghanistan – Does the Ghani Government Have a Chance?

Michelle Hughes meeting with the Director of Criminal Investigation, Afghan National Police

I had the opportunity last week to speak at a NATO Building Integrity “Expert Consultation.”  NATO planners were trying to figure out the best way to target corruption in the Afghan National Security Forces during the coming year.  Resources will be scarce, access limited, and influence reduced with the security draw down.  So what, if anything, they asked, can be done?

For me, one of the great things about the consultation was that for the most part, the participants were true subject matter experts.  Here were people who had spent years on the ground, struggling to make sense of the Afghan government, the ISAF coalition, and international donor objectives.  Working with all of these very complex elements of the development puzzle, in an ever-shifting framework for cooperation and oversight, was a challenge that each person in the room understood all too well.  The insights and the discussions on what can and must be done in 2015 and beyond were genuinely insightful, and well-informed by experience. 

What struck me within the first hour of the consultation was the sad consensus that there had been a “magical window of opportunity” in Afghanistan from approximately 2009 – 2011, but that the international community had squandered it by focusing on quantity over quality, and short-term outputs over  long-term outcomes.  Accountability and oversight, and building the right capacity to ensure it, simply was not a priority.  We said that it was, but didn't mainstream the concept into our capacity building plans as a condition predicate to assistance; as an essential element of all other training, equipping, and advising we were doing; or as a “testable item” for senior leader performance.  As a result, anti-corruption took a backseat to other, more tangible and easily measured development activities.  The resultant Afghan perception was that corruption didn't matter that much to the international community after all.

So here we are.  Full responsibility for security has passed to a new Afghan government, but the capacity to oversee and control security force performance remains questionable.  International development and economic assistance is greatly reduced, but the Afghan economy is now hostage to entrenched corruption and graft.  Even with political will, the Afghans lack the technical capacity to detect, investigate, and successfully prosecute complex financial crimes and criminal networks.  After 12 years of police and justice sector development, the core competencies simply do not exist on a sufficient scale to even begin to tackle the problem.  Candidly (because I was there), the skills that are now needed were not even meaningful components of our police or prosecution development programs at the height of our assistance.  They were not seen as critical to the fight.

But they are critical to winning the war – the war that the new Ghani-Abdullah government must wage against corruption if it is to have any hope of legitimacy, economic growth, or sustainable security.  Anti-corruption may not have been a development priority before, but it has to become so now if Afghanistan is to survive.  If it isn't, then the Ghani government really doesn't stand a chance.

Building Regional Capacity and What Right Really Looks Like – the Loyola University Chicago-African Union Rule of Law Partnership

Building Regional Capacity and What Right Really Looks Like – the Loyola University Chicago-African Union Rule of Law Partnership 

Signing Ceremony for the Loyola-AU Rule of Law Partnership

In my profession, when we talk about building governance capacity and strengthening the rule of law, the terms “local ownership” and “best practice” get thrown around a lot.  In my experience, however, that usually translates to mean that some donor has come up with a good development idea, put some donor money behind it, and sold it to whoever the intended recipient is -- be it an individual, government, or community of interest.   In Afghanistan, I got used to hearing the constant exhortation to “put an Afghan face on it,” and during my work in Africa, the constant refrain was that if a development project was to succeed, we needed to get local “buy-in” so that “local ownership” would exist.  This was “best practice.”  But if you have to “sell” someone on a development idea, “build” local ownership, or “put a "local face” on your development project, then is the initiative really locally owned? Of course not.  It's merely, shall we say, locally received.

Which is why the recently-signed Memorandum of Understanding between Loyola University Chicago School of Law and the African Union (AU) to strengthen the capacity of the AU and the African Regional Economic Communities (RECs) is such a great example of what true rule of law development can look like.    Under the terms of the MOU, qualified staff and employees of the AU, RECs, and key AU member states will attend Loyola’s unique one-year Master of Laws in Rule of Law for Development (known as “PROLAW”).  PROLAW provides a practice-oriented program of study aimed at graduating rule of law professionals who can be reformers, advocates, and leaders within their own countries and regions.  PROLAW aims to break the cycle of substituted capacity.  It treats rule of law reform like the core governance function that it is.  This approach is appropriate for a regional body such as the AU, which is trying to improve its own internal ability to manage the overwhelming challenges to effective governance and the rule of law that exist on the African continent.

Rather than relying on outside advisers to advance social justice, effective governance, and rule of law reform, PROLAW graduates from developing countries are prepared to assume the task themselves.  PROLAW students who are development professionals from donor countries are taught how to foster and develop human capital so that the real yeoman’s work of reform can take place from within.  Full disclosure here – I have been an adviser to the PROLAW team since February -- but my association came about because I believe passionately that the PROLAW approach is what works for sustainable development.  It’s how “local ownership” really happens.    

From Boko Haram to ISIS, Ebola containment to security sector reform, and corruption to human rights and gender equality, the AU faces monumental governance and security challenges on a scale that goes beyond those faced by NATO, ASEAN, the OAS, or any other regional body.  But the AU has a capacity building vision that doesn't require that AU “buy-in” be built. The Loyola partnership was, in fact, an AU concept that originated with Professor Vincent Nmehielle, the AU’s Legal Counsel and Director of Legal Affairs and was enthusiastically endorsed by the AU leadership.  Prof. Nmehielle shared the vision with Loyola and Loyola responded.  In many ways, their dialogue echoed that which had occurred on a much larger scale with the US and international support for Plan Colombia back in the late 1990’s, a widely understudied example of a locally-generated strategy that can progress when donors are willing to get onboard.

At the signing ceremony, which took place at the AU Mission to the US in Washington DC on October 24, Professor Nmehielle discussed the AU concept.  He talked about the fact that most of the conflicts in Africa are caused by lack of development, injustice, and inequality.  He further emphasized that the ability of the AU to resource people who really understand the local context is vital, and he spoke of the need to enable young African men and women to build an army of professionals who understand what the AU stands for, and who can help build the vision of African integration.  This MOU represented an AU idea, and the AU leadership owned it from the beginning. 

In addition to the AU staff who will attend the one-year degree program, the Loyola-AU MOU establishes a framework for in-service training that will take place in the form of short seminars and training at the AU Headquarters in Addis Ababa.  Topics will be chosen by the AU leadership to reflect AU priorities, and will complement the more extensive coursework that will be going on at the University’s John Felice Center in Rome (where PROLAW is taught).  By the end of the first three years of the program, the AU and RECs will have graduated 15 mid-level AU staffers from the University, and more than 100 support staff will have been trained to support them.  That’s 150 connected, empowered professionals within one regional structure – not an insignificant outcome.  The US State Department is providing the seed money to kick it off, but one of the goals of the program is to make it largely self-sustaining after the first cohort has been established. 

It’s a great idea that could become a model for capacity building within a regional context, and that’s best practice.  It’s what right looks like and we should all be following it to see what results.

For further details, see http://legal.au.int/en/content/african-union-and-loyola-university-chicago-sign-milestone-memorandum-understanding; http://blogs.luc.edu/pressreleases/?s=African+Union and https://www.facebook.com/StateINL

Why the Ebola Crisis is a Rule of Law Problem

Why the Ebola Crisis is a Rule of Law Problem:  As I write this, the World’s largest outbreak of Ebola continues unabated.  International health organizations are predicting that the death toll will continue to rise exponentially, the economic impact on West Africa is beginning to be discussed, and the United States is (literally) sending in the Marines.  And as normally happens, the blame game on who is responsible for letting it get so out of hand has begun.

But most current discussions continue to miss a key point.  The Ebola crisis is a terrible case study about what can happen when you combine a deadly communicable disease with serious gaps in governance and the rule of law. 

It’s important to point out that West Africa, and Liberia and Sierra Leone in particular, has been the recipient of an enormous amount of foreign assistance.   As Liberia and Sierra Leone emerged from their brutal civil wars, the international community poured resources into the countries.  Governmental structures were restored, security forces re-trained and re-equipped, and essential services of every type were reinstated.  Supposedly.  I’d like to also point out that when donors in West Africa talked about objectives and risks, the threat of pandemic was always high on the list.  But honestly, from my own experience in Liberia, it was really more of a block that was checked: “Yes, of course we've considered the threat of pandemic . . .”

So what has been the result of all that foreign aid?  Well, we now have a public health crisis with global implications that West African governments have been completely and utterly unable to manage.  It’s one thing to build and equip a hospital or clinic; it’s another to build a public health system that can manage it – capably and accountably.  It’s one thing to train doctors and nurses; it’s a different development challenge to train health care professionals who can adapt to crisis and change, and oversee government performance of emerging public health care needs.   It’s one thing to train and equip government security forces to respond to national security threats; but training them to be credible first responders during a national health and safety disaster requires another set of skills and a different mindset regarding roles, responsibilities, and public information.

These are core governance and rule of law issues, but what has been evident to date that governments in the affected countries were not equipped to respond in a responsible, credible, way.  Nor were they trusted by their own people to do so.  Rural populations have either ignored government warnings and advice, or refused to even believe it.  Corruption and incompetence have created such an extreme level of mistrust between the government and the governed that in some parts of the affected countries, people would rather die than follow a government directive.  As for efforts to contain the spread through measures such as airport screening at point of departure?  Well, despite pouring hundreds of millions of dollars into re-building critical transportation infrastructure and customs and border capacity, there is not enough oversight in these countries to ensure that screeners adhere to the standards, and no assurances that they are even enforcing them equally to all passengers.   

If we are going to play the blame game, or more positively, if we are going to assess what type of capacity building is needed to contain Ebola and prevent future pandemic, we owe it to ourselves and the citizens of the countries we help to take a hard look at how we are building governance capacity.  Top down capacity building that will strengthen the host nations’ ability to manage and respond to crisis is key of course, but we have to also look how the level of accountability that we donors demand of the recipient governments; the checks and balances that they are required to build into their systems and enforce; and the means and methods governments have at their disposal to credibly communicate critical information to the public.   Bottom up capacity building – focused on community engagement on public health and safety -- has to be an equal part in the assistance equation as well.   

Building trust and confidence between the government and the governed is fundamental to maintaining the rule of law, and enforcing the rule of law is critical in times of crisis and uncertainty when governmental control is key to controlling the spread of a disaster.  As we look to the future of assistance in Africa, and ways in which we re-calibrate our response, we have to be realistic about the role that weak governance has played.  Although governance development is hard, and its results are less tangible that training, building, and equipping, it has to be the priority.  Otherwise, as the current pandemic has illustrated so tragically, most of the technical assistance is for naught.  

Where Politics are personal, relationships matter

Where Politics are personal, relationships matter --   

Meeting with litigants outside an Afghan provincial court to gauge their reactions after a hearing

An online article on the upcoming turnover of diplomats at the U.S. Embassy in Kabul in Foreign Policy caught my attention this morning.  It talked about the fact that this summer, at a critical juncture in the U.S. relationship with the Afghan government, almost all of our diplomats with Afghan experience will be leaving, replaced by Foreign Service Officers who have little to no experience with the Afghan government.  This is a huge problem, and points to issues that I've been seeing in most post conflict environments -- the absence of continuity among development professionals and the inability of U.S. government officials to actively engage with their host nation counterparts.

Politics are personal everywhere you go, and especially in governments that are organized around tribal, familial, ethnic, and religious affiliations.  In these places, power sharing arrangements are negotiated between individuals based on relationships that are nearly impossible to discern from the outside.  There is a trust (and mistrust) component to every political deal.   As a result, to conduct effective development within the local context, it is essential that outside interveners get in and engage on an equally personal level.  One’s ability to influence the governance system is dependent on one’s ability to build a trust relationship with host nation counterparts.  Only then will they begin to share some of the hidden details of why things work the way they do, and what risks are involved if reform is to occur.  Close collaboration is everything, and if one is to be an effective adviser and development partner, one has to one must have the kind of nuanced understanding that can only be achieved through sustained presence and intelligent empathy. 

Unfortunately, there are several factors that are making this nearly impossible to achieve.  Personnel rotation policies favor quick-in/quick-out in order to mitigate the impact of separation and discomfort for our personnel abroad.  Within the military, deployment rotation cycles move key individuals in and out of a theater of operations in a matter of months, not years.  Within the civilian community, the problem is even worse.  Labor agreements ensure maximum consideration for working conditions, with minimal consideration for operational impact.  Furthermore, in the post-Benghazi environment, our tolerance for security risk is nil.  Embassy personnel are rarely allowed to leave protected compounds or headquarters unless security can be guaranteed.  The result is that we now have islands of diplomatic and development professionals who never see the reality of governance and rule of law in action in the countries that need effective development assistance the most.

I saw this firsthand when I returned to Afghanistan in January to conduct independent research on the future of the Afghan National Police.  I have been working on Afghanistan issues for five years and never before encountered so many key U.S. and international officials who were operating in a complete vacuum of personal experience and observation.  None of the individuals with whom I met had any meaningful contact with Afghan leaders on their “home turf.”  They had never seen an Afghan governing body in action, never seen a court in session, never observed police performance outside that of the customs and immigration officers at the international airport, and never had the opportunity to talk with Afghans who were trying to access justice or other government services.  And yet these were the people who were making policy recommendations, programming decisions, and evaluating resource strategies for development.  It was startling, and even a bit shocking.  The Afghan officials with whom I also met were aware of the problem, and resentful.  After all, they pointed out, they were the ones who suffer the impact of ill-conceived,  ill-informed, and poorly evaluated development.      

I understand the security and personnel concerns.  But the bottom line is that that governance and rule of law development is a participative and collaborative process.  If we say this is an important U.S. strategic objective, then our own bureaucratic decisions must enable relationship building and allow the necessary trust to be established.  Our personnel must accept inconvenience, separation, and assume a certain degree of intelligent risk, and they have to be empowered to do so.  If we’re unwilling or unable to build the relationships necessary to effectively engage in partnered development, then frankly, we might just as well go home.

Turmoil v. Freedom of Expression: Community Policing into the Fray

Turmoil v. Freedom of Expression:  Community Policing into the Fray -- Watching the spiraling violence that surrounded the protests in Ferguson, Missouri this week, I was reminded of a discussion that I had with a friend of mine from Freedom House (http://freedomhouse.org/  Look them up -- they do great work!) about the importance of freedom of assembly as a fundamental right.  We were talking about Burma (aka “Myanmar”) which frequently uses its Peaceful Assembly and Peaceful Procession Law as a way to arrest and imprison political and human rights activists.  The Burmese Parliament amended the law in June, but the changes have been criticized as cosmetic, and Burmese police continue to arrest those who are protesting against government actions.  As my friend and I explored development options (how do you change a culture of repression and control?), we realized that we had a growing list of countries that have been unable to strike a balance between freedom of expression and the need to maintain public order and safety.  It further reminded me of the discussions that my French Gendarmerie Deputy and I used to have in Afghanistan about the balance between policing as a security function for the government, and policing as a tool to ensure that individual rights are protected and dissenting voices are heard.

With this in mind, I watched the escalating violence in Ferguson and its increasingly militarized policing response over the past four days.  Until last night, it appeared as though nothing short of calling out the National Guard was going to quell the unrest.  And then, into the fray, stepped Missouri State Police Captain Ronald Johnson, the highway patrol official appointed by the governor to take control.  Captain Johnson ordered troopers to remove their tear-gas masks, and in the early evening he accompanied several groups of protesters through the streets, clasping hands, listening to stories and marching alongside them.  It worked.  The situation deescalated, and news this morning showed residents and protesters hugging Captain Johnson, and applauding his community policing-centric approach.   

Not all protesters have peaceful intent, of course, and there are always bad actors who will use public assembly as an excuse to incite violence and other criminal activity.  Crowds frequently get out of hand  (Recall the pro-Palestinian protests in France recently, which led to attacks on Paris Synagogues and Jews.) and when I was in Afghanistan, military commanders frequently opined that community policing techniques were irrelevant given the level of violence and instability.  But community-centric approaches do work.  They remind the public that the police are a part of the fabric of the community and not merely the face of the government.  They validate individual concerns, and the importance of individual rights.  They allow voices to be heard and frustrations to be aired. 

There are important discussions ahead about the increasing militarization of police in America, and the ability of police to demilitarize in unstable or repressive regimes abroad.  But what events in Ferguson illustrate is that it’s not an either/or proposition.  Community policing is as relevant in high tension and conflict as it is in peace.  And regardless of context, it can and does work.

Federal Judge to Supreme Court: "STFU". Really?????

Federal Judge to Supreme Court: "STFU".  Really?????


It's a story that only a rule of law nerd would catch and pay attention to.  A sitting U.S. federal judge, angry about recent U.S. Supreme Court decisions regarding Obama Care and the requirement for corporations to provide coverage for, shall we say, "controversial" women's contraceptive services, blogs that the Supreme Court is causing more harm than good and needs to, in this judge's words, "just stfu." 


The underlying cases and controversies aren't what caught my attention.  (You can read the story at http://cnn.it/1ojSYz7)  What troubled me is that like it or not, the United States Supreme Court represents the highest judicial decision-making body in the land, and this lower court judge's public and juvenile reaction is the kind of thing that casts doubt on the legitimacy of one of our three branches of government on which we depend for rule of law in this country. 


The fact is that courts often get decisions wrong.  I spent nine years as a trial lawyer in federal court with a 90% win-loss rate, which is darn good.  But I still spent an uncomfortable amount of time trying to explain to my clients why a seemingly rational judge could irrationally gut my client's legally meritorious case.  Judges have opinions, agendas, and emotions; laws are often ambiguous, contradictory, or so poorly written that no one quite knows what they mean.  Sometimes, the evidence in a case just doesn't come out the way you think it should.  It's an iterative, incredibly imperfect process (Japanese internment, anyone?) but it is a process that reflects the U.S. Constitutional, legal, and political structure.  Disrespect it and you throw the legitimacy of the entire government into question. 


In the end, the only thing that really makes a justice system work is if the people who participate in it -- lawmakers, judges, lawyers, law enforcement officials, and litigants -- believe that it is legitimate and worth resorting to.  Otherwise, you have Somalia, or Syria, or Russia -- places where there is little confidence that anyone in the government is willing or able to do the right thing.  The legitimacy of the judicial system is more important than the legitimacy of an individual decision, because it's the system that enables enforceability.    


This federal judge, the stfu guy, knows that very well.  His own canon of judicial ethics mandates that he keep his opinions to himself in order to protect the legitimacy of the higher courts' decisions, which he will now be bound to apply.  For whatever reason, however, he's decided that he is now above the rules.   It's wrong and it's dangerous, and frankly, this particular judge needs to stfu.

Citizenship, Independence, and the Centrality of the Rule of law

Citizenship, Independence, and the Centrality of the Rule of law:  I had the great honor yesterday of attending the naturalization ceremony of a close personal friend who, more than 12 years after leaving her native Russia, was finally able to become an American citizen. If you've never witnessed a naturalization ceremony before, I highly recommend it. Set in the beautiful neo-classical courtroom of our local federal courthouse, it was an emotional experience for all of us.

There were more than 100 soon-to-be citizens in the room, and by the time half of them had stated their country of origin, I had lost count of where they were from – Afghanistan to Ethiopia, Canada, to Thailand, New Zealand, Peru, and all parts in between -- their diversity was amazing.

As a rule of law practitioner, I was struck by how central the rule of law is to the process. The materials on which our new citizens are examined before the process even began required them to learn the values that underpin the Constitution, our system of government accountability, the responsibilities that we, the governed and the governing, all share under the law, and the major decisions of the Supreme Court. The proceeding itself was a demonstration of the rule of law in the way it was conducted -- according to the law, with all of the reverence we accord to a court proceeding and under the watchful eye of a sitting federal judge and a certifying US attorney. Prospective citizens, having been fully vetted according to law, then swore their personal allegiance to the law not once, but five times in the Oath of Citizenship; “justice” as the underpinning to our liberty and freedom, was cited throughout. 

Afterwards, over celebratory glasses of wine and the last, local softshell crabs of the season, we talked about what it all meant, and how easy it is for those of us born into a society that values the rule of law to take it for granted. My friend’s husband remarked that in Russia during the Soviet times, they had a beautiful Constitution that guaranteed individual rights and liberties. But, he reflected, it was rarely followed and never enforced. We discussed the guarantee of religious freedom, and what a rare and important commodity that is. We talked about the opportunity that the law provides, when evenly enforced, for everyone to realize their individuality and potential. The pursuit of happiness, as the Judge had noted during the ceremony, is not some abstract good idea – it is a concept that can only be achieved when it is supported by law.

It was a beautiful reminder of why the rule of law matters so much to each and every one of us. So with that in mind, I want to wish everyone a happy 4th of July. We are so fortunate to live in a land where individual patriots were, and are, willing to sacrifice their lives and their fortunes for equality, justice, and the rule of law. It makes freedom possible and we need to value it more.

Branding “God” and Other Judicial Decisions – The flip side of the rule of law

Branding “God” and Other Judicial Decisions – The flip side of the rule of law:  Last week, I participated in a high level round table on strengthening national rule of law capacity.  It was an initiative of the Rule of Law for Development program run by Loyola University Chicago’s School of Law, and was hosted at the Georgetown School of Foreign Service.  The participants were fantastic – a select group representing Open Society, the World Bank, Millennium Challenge Corporation, Oxfam and the Council on Foreign Relations, among others. 

Everyone was in violent agreement on the importance of strengthening the rule of law in developing and transitioning States.  But they expressed increasing concern over the way in which nations are using “rule of law” to justify suppressing dissent, limiting transparency, and restricting individual freedoms such as free speech and freedom of religion. 

So it was in light of that discussion that I did my usual morning news scan, and the one that really caught my attention was a decision by the highest court in Malaysia that Christians cannot use the word, “Allah.” http://www.aljazeera.com/news/asia-pacific/2014/06/top-malaysian-court-dismisses-allah-case-20146232448487953.html.  Had I not been thinking about the roundtable, I probably would have missed this story as it wasn't widely reported in the U.S.  But the more I read, the more it concerned me.

Basically, what happened is this: Christians in Malaysia have been using “Allah,” the Arabic word for God, in their Malay-language Bibles and other publications for basically as far back as anyone can remember.  And then in 2007, citing concerns about public order, the Malaysian Home Ministry threatened to revoke a Catholic newspaper’s license unless it stopped using the word.    An appeals court later decided that the newspaper had a constitutional right to use the word, and anti-Christian violence ensued.  The high court reversed the ruling.  Apparently, there is a risk of, for want of a better term, brand confusion when talking about God that might cause Muslims to think they can convert.  So Christians are prohibited from using it. 

To be fair to the ruling, the court is trying to clarify that the ban only applies to the newspaper, but the basis for that distinction is really unclear.  It’s arbitrary and has the effect of limiting freedom of the press in addition to limiting free speech -- and belief.  And (potentially) interfaith dialogue that may be important to conflict resolution in a religiously-pluralistic Muslim country that is, like so many others, experiencing increasing tension between religious groups.  Because how do you search for common ground if you aren't allowed to speak the same language or share the same words?

In cases like this one, upholding the rule of law means that the State protects individual rights, with even greater vigor than before, to make a demonstration that they matter.    The non-rule of law approach, disguised as "upholding the rule of law" because it comes out of a court, is to restrict individual rights because there is risk.  It's a balancing act, and Malaysia got it wrong.

Empathy and the Power of Conflict to Make Us Forget

I was traveling during the last four weeks, and it seems as though the world went to hell in a hand-basket while I was away.  Ukraine is getting more complicated, not less; the level of violence in Syria has reached a point where it's not even shocking us anymore; Kenya is spiraling into a level of instability and no one is seriously talking about it; Sudan doesn't even make the news, nor does anything else in Sub-Saharan Africa it seems; and now Iraq has imploded.  And of course, we've totally given up on the kidnapped Nigerian girls. (#bringbackourgirls was nice while it lasted.)  There are so many things I could say about each/all of these, and probably will at some point, but all I can think of today is this:

In each and every conflict, real people are involved.  They bleed.  They mourn.  They fear.  They pray.  They hope.  They suffer.  They die.  They see their lives explode in front of them, but can do nothing about it.  They worry over their children, and panic over their safety and their future.  They see everything they've ever dreamed of, worked for, or believed in go up in smoke.  They find themselves fighting disease, hunger, thirst, destitution, loss, chaos and despair -- all at the same time. 

Because the fact is that most people involved in a conflict are not really involved in the conflict.  They're just there.

Funny thing is, however, the bigger the conflict, the less we think about the human cost.  All this week, I've been following the news from Iraq, and then it hit me.  What is the one thing no one is talking about?  That's easy -- it's the impact this crisis is having on the hundreds of thousands of ordinary Iraqis who were, before now, just trying to live out their lives with some semblance of normalcy.  So just for a few minutes, let's take the time to empathize with them.  And then let's not forget.

The Power of Poetry -- Culture and the Rule of Law

Discovering the beautiful legal documents at the National Archives of Afghanistan

The Power of Poetry -- Culture and the Rule of Law: When I was in Afghanistan as the rule of law adviser to the NATO police development mission, I had the opportunity to embed in Afghan police units as their senior commanders crisscrossed the country, inspecting checkpoints and police stations, and meeting with governors and community leaders. These trips were fraught with danger and discomfort. Being an American civilian woman embedded in an Afghan formation was not exactly normal, even for Afghanistan, but it was revealing.

I did it because in order to connect policing to governance, we had to understand what that relationship looked like: not to us, but to the Afghans.

What was surprising to me was how important history and culture were to the Afghan vision of the role of a modern police force. Hardened veterans of brutal wars and semi-literate in most cases, these were not men I thought would be concerned with the fine arts. But I was wrong. Their generals took great risks in order to introduce young police officers to historic sites, illuminated manuscripts, music, and the lore of the Silk Road. The Minister of Interior spent almost an hour inspecting rose gardens with me at a training center near Herat, asking my opinion of the landscaping and personally directing the planting of a particular flowering vine. The generals told me that it was important for their future leaders to understand the land and its people – they could not fairly enforce the law if they did not understand its cultural context and the values that lay behind it.  These were especially reflected, they explained, in their poetry, and in private conversations amongst themselves, they quoted both modern and ancient Persian poets, a lot.

Three years later, while in Kabul this past January, I had the privilege of visiting the National Archives of Afghanistan. The beauty of the miniature paintings depicting Persian fairy tales, illuminated texts, and gorgeous legal documents left me amazed and mystified. I had always been told by my rule of law development colleagues that the Afghans had no national legal tradition – that their law was all derived from the Holy Koran, and there was little else to build upon. But there in the archives and open to visitors, was evidence not only of 200 years of written law, but treasured, valued, embellished, poetic law. It was law as art and culture, just as the culture was embedded in the meaning behind it. The Afghans valued it. That was clear. But I and most of my colleagues had apparently missed that point.

So it was with great interest that I read about “I am the Beggar of the World: Landays from Contemporary Afghanistan.” This recently-published book contains the poetry of approximately 20 Afghan Pashtun women and promises to be a revelation. We in the international community have spent a lot of time talking about the legal status of women in Afghanistan and we've certainly spent a lot of time and resources talking TO them. But as a rule, we haven’t been reading their poems. We haven’t been looking at the way they perceive their own experience, as expressed in their art and culture. Now we can. We probably should have been doing so all along. http://www.amazon.com/Am-Beggar-World-Contemporary-Afghanistan/dp/0374191875?tag=vglnkc4576-20

Kidnapping in Nigeria and #bringbackourgirls – Are we missing the point? (Part 3)

Kidnapping in Nigeria and #bringbackourgirls – Are we missing the point? (Part 3):  

Now more than a month after the kidnapping, the crisis continues and so does the debate over the Nigerian response. Having conducted a “security summit” this weekend, western powers, Nigeria, and its neighbors are coordinating an intelligence-led, military response, and appear to be on the verge of declaring Boko Haram as an international terrorist organization. The Nigerian President has declared that the entire incident was an "al Qaeda-led operation.”

Is all this cooperation and attention a bad thing? No . . . unless it continues to divert attention from the underlying problem that empowers groups like Boko Haram – governance, or in this case, the lack thereof and Nigerian inability to enforce the rule of law.

The fact is that regardless how good the military is, when a country suffers from unabated crime, corruption, inequality, and governmental ineptitude, just to name a few of Nigeria’s shortcomings, then escalating insecurity will persist. This is not a problem with a military solution. Nigeria has credible military forces that are reasonably well trained and equipped (for the region) with a decent reputation as peacekeepers – outside of Nigeria. Within their own country, however, both the army and the police are routinely accused of major human rights violations; they are poorly and corruptly managed; and they are unresponsive to the security needs of the population. In sum, they are inadequately governed. No wonder they can’t mount a credible response.

But governance, to include security sector governance, can be improved if there is political will and a focused, comprehensive approach backed by internal and external oversight and robust public engagement. This kind of approach is difficult, complex, and long term, so unfortunately, it is not the direction in which things are going. Instead, the dialogue is defaulting to what we know and what we’re comfortable with –declaring war on Boko Haram and formulating a rapid military train, advise, and assist response. It won’t address the governance gap in the north; it won’t address the government’s disconnection with its own people; it won’t strengthen the Nigerians’ ability to criminalize the insurgency and enforce the law; and it doesn’t improve governance and accountability of Nigerian security forces. But it generates a lot of action, and that’s apparently going to have to be enough.

The Afghan National Police – Finding Their Way in 2015 and Beyond

The Afghan National Police – Finding Their Way in 2015 and Beyond: In honor of the publication of my Report for the US Institute for Peace on the Future of the Afghan National Police, (http://www.usip.org/publications/the-afghan-national-police-in-2015-and-beyond) I’m digressing a bit from Boko Haram and lessons not learned in Nigerian Security Sector Reform.

Anyone who’s ever heard me speak or worked with me on Afghanistan knows that I am somewhat bullish on the Afghans. Once, after traveling for several days through Taliban-controlled territory with a senior Afghan police commander, I reported that I thought he was as good a leader as any of our own NATO coalition generals. I recall the reaction from some in my organization was something along the lines of: “what would she know; she’s just some female civilian.” Well, as a former senior Army officer who has also worked as a civilian special advisor to more than 100 US and NATO flag and general officers, I think I know what strong leadership under great stress looks like. This particular Afghan police commander had all the right stuff and was doing all the right things. And he wasn’t the only one.

So I read with great interest this week that the Kabul Chief of Police announced a crackdown on tinted windows. http://www.tolonews.com/en/afghanistan/14872-kabul-police-push-ahead-with-tinted-window-ban. (We need to do this in my own city, btw – as a former prosecutor, I unfortunately know where all the open air drug markets are, and it’s amazing how the prevalence of dark tinted windows increases as you’re passing some of these areas.) Anyway, the Afghan Ministry of Interior has ordered the crackdown for security reasons, so of course, the politicians, whose vehicles tend to be deeply tinted, are the ones complaining. The Kabul police tried to enforce the ban once before without success. Now, however, the Afghan National Police have an Interior Minister who has shown considerable resolve; an order from the President himself to make it happen; and a growing confidence and pride among the police that I hadn’t seen in the past but observed during my latest trip to Kabul in January.  Because of these factors and others, the Kabul police may actually be able to pull this one off with minimal abuse of authority and some degree of effectiveness. If they do, it will be another small victory for the Afghan National Police and another step in the march toward Afghan-style rule of law. I’m pulling for them.

Kidnapping in Nigeria and #bringbackourgirls – Are we missing the point? (Part 2)

Kidnapping in Nigeria and #bringbackourgirls – Are we missing the point? (Part 2):

I said I was going to come back to this topic and talk about a few issues that struck me as a Rule of Law and Security Sector Reform practitioner. In the meantime, I've watched a lot of prominent politicians and policy makers comment on the situation, and the U.S. has now sent military and law enforcement assistance to Nigeria to help find the girls. Which is great, but it still doesn't get to the longer term issues of how to keep this from happening again.

So here’s the first question that arose in my mind when the story broke: You’re a government fighting an insurgency and one of the insurgents’ core ideas, embodied in their name (!), is, “western education is a sin.” Why then, aren't your security forces operating in the contested areas treating schools as critical governance infrastructure? Surely, from a messaging standpoint alone, the war of ideas makes schools a strategic asset. This in turn makes them a strategic target. And since you’re fighting an organization that has negatively extremist views on the value of women that run counter to those of the law of Nigeria, then shouldn't protecting girls’ schools be even more important to affirming governmental authority? Viewed through this lens, the question isn't, why didn't the Nigerian military respond to the calls for help. It should be: Why weren't they already near the school, providing heightened protection in the first place?

I’m dead serious about this. In security system analysis, experience tells you to look first at the threat, then at whether security and justice institutions are postured to address it. It would appear to me that in the case of the Nigerian security system, this fundamental analysis hasn't been done, or if it has, it was ignored. Security force preparation and posturing is about more than train and equip. It is about creating organizations and assets that can assess needs and vulnerabilities, and position themselves to address them accordingly. Clearly that didn't happen here, and hasn't happened in previous, less-publicized attacks on Nigerian schools and the women who attend them.

Kidnapping in Nigeria and #bringbackourgirls – Are we missing the point? (Part 1)

Kidnapping in Nigeria and #bringbackourgirls – Are we missing the point? (Part 1):  Several years ago, I met a Nigerian woman human rights activist.  We were both participating in an effort by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) to codify best practices for Security Sector Reform, and I remember her not because she was so personable or experienced, because she was neither.   What she was, was angry.  She was angry with us – so-called Western do-gooders who, in her mind, presumed to know how to provide effective, targeted security and justice assistance in her country, but time and again, skated past the hard issues and left things worse than we found them, especially for women. 

The kidnapping of almost 300 girls by Boko Haram (aka “western education is a sin”) in Nigeria’s unstable north, has garnered world attention as well it should.  But even as we mobilize international pressure on the Nigerian government to find them, we need to ask how and why this happened in the first place and why the Nigerian response was so anemic and ineffective. 

In particular, if I look at the situation from a security sector reform (or “SSR”) perspective, what does it say about U.S. foreign assistance in Nigeria, and particularly security assistance?  Have we been putting the emphasis on the right things?  If I were doing an SSR assessment of Nigeria, there are a few issues that need to be looked at very hard.  And if I were a betting woman, I’d wager they are not the things that underpin current U.S. SSR-related activities.  So over the next few days, I want to think about some of these issues.  The girls are important.  But let’s not miss the larger point.  So are the ones who’ve been kidnapped before them, and so are the ones who may be in the future.  Stay with me for Part 2.

Targeting Peacemakers in Afghanistan: Can the Afghans turn Tragedy into Victory for the Rule of Law?

Targeting Peacemakers in Afghanistan: Can the Afghans turn Tragedy into Victory for the Rule of Law? 

I had intended to close out the week by talking about the meaning of “community” and why it matters to rule of law developmental approaches, but my ideas were overtaken by yesterday’s events.  To summarize, three American medical personnel were killed outside of the hospital in Kabul where they were educating and assisting Afghans in general surgery, and child and maternal health.  http://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/three-americans-slain-cure-hospital-kabul-n88376.

The story was breaking news when it was first reported, but by this morning, it was hard to find.  I had first seen it on NBC so I started there.  But I had to work my way through the human interest reporting from the local affiliate where one of the doctors was from to find the main story.  To see the Washington Post reporting, I had to type “Afghanistan” into the search engine because I could not find the story by clicking through any of the usual links.  I never did find it on cnn.com.  But enough about my internet woes.

The bottom line is that attacks on medical personnel, teachers, journalists, and other assorted aid workers have a huge impact on public perceptions about the rule of law in Afghanistan.  There are the obvious conclusions that everyone who works in conflict stabilization and counterinsurgency draws –attacks like these demonstrate that the government is not fully in control; they undermine public confidence and freedom of movement; they scare away international donors and foreign aid; they represent the conflict of ideas between factions and power structures, etc., etc.  All of these are important points and important discussions.  I get that.

There is a more human and less tangible dimension to the problem, however, and it is the one that always hits me hardest when I’m in an unstable environment working with people who are putting everything on the line to restore the rule of law.  These types of attacks are attacks on the peacemakers – and specifically the ones who serve as role models for ordinary people in extraordinary situations.  If governance is going to succeed, you need so-called “ordinary” people to buy into the possibility that rule of law is possible.  Why else would they try to play by the rules?  Role models, like the doctors who were killed yesterday, or Kimberly Motley, the high profile American female lawyer who has been litigating cases in the Afghan Court system since 2008 are really important; unlike many who are happy to comment from the sidelines of the green zone, these people get right in there with their Afghan counterparts.  Their participation and commitment demonstrates that Afghan systems can work.

If you think it’s difficult to measure the impact of that one person -- one peacemaker – can have, just stop for a moment and consider the web of relationships that are involved.  Knowing how things work in Kabul, I can make an educated guess that the Chicago doctor who was killed yesterday had daily influence on the following:  hospital security personal and his personal protection team; drivers, expediters and translators; hospital administrators; civil servants in the Ministry of Health and the nascent health care infrastructure of Afghanistan; medical students; fellow Afghan medical professionals; patients; and of course, patients’ families – which can be pretty extended in Afghanistan.  When you think about it in these terms, this one guy was an example of hope, progress and eventual normality to hundreds of people every single day he was there.  His presence and persistence said: “You can do this; you can build this; you will come through this difficult time and things will get better if you just stay the course and don’t give up.”

So what should happen next?  Is there a way to turn tragedy to triumph for the rule of law?  Being a glass-half-full kind of gal, I would say yes.  The Afghan government can, if it is committed to the rule of law, demonstrate clearly and unequivocally that attacks on peacemakers will not be tolerated.  This is a fairly straightforward criminal case (to the extent that murder cases are ever straightforward) so it presents an opportunity for the government to show that its criminal justice system can work.  To do so, the case needs to be treated as a murder, and not be allowed to be hijacked by the politics and jurisdictional minefields of insurgency. 

The international community should quietly, but forcefully put its support behind the Afghan criminal investigation, prosecution, and hopefully, incarceration.  The Minister of Interior needs to ensure that key personnel, to include the prosecutor and judges assigned to the case, are protected throughout.  The rights of the Afghan security guard who was arrested for the crime should be vigorously protected by the Afghan defense bar, and the Afghan government should publicize its compliance with its own constitutional protections.  

Afghan media reporting during the entire investigative and judicial process should also be protected and incentivized.   I still remember attending the first public criminal trial in Kuz Kunar District, in Eastern Afghanistan in 2011.  The actual case was a only minor stabbing that arose out of a dispute at the local bazaar, but 14 Afghan media outlets filmed the entire proceeding live and later re-broadcast it across the country to great impact.  That same kind of attention should be lavished on this incident and the message of national intolerance for these types of crimes should be clear.  I want to point out also that all of my recommendations are Afghan tasks.  This is not merely “putting an Afghan face” on a course of action.  It means that we as outsiders are firmly behind the Afghans’ own decisions and supportive of the Afghan's own activities.

Targeting peacemakers is a standard tactic when someone it trying to take down a government or weaken its influence and control.  Key to restoring trust, confidence, and hope, and neutralizing the impact, is how that government responds.  Out of this terrible tragedy, an opportunity exists for the government of Afghanistan to demonstrate that accountability matters, and peacemakers do as well.    Let’s hope it rises to the occasion. And in the meantime remember, in honor of those who gave all: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for theirs is the kingdom of God.”

If You Want Peace, Work for Justice: From Words into Action

If You Want Peace, Work for Justice: From Words into Action – I was struggling to decide what kind of rule of law theme I wanted to discuss during Easter because it seemed important to say something on one of the highest Holy Days of the year for Christians.  And then I thought about Pope John Paul’s message:  “If you want peace, work for justice,” or, as I used to hear when I was working in Colombia, “Si quieras la Paz; trabaja por la Justicia.”  (beautiful in Spanish!)

I have tried to live out my professional life according to this saying.  I learned early on that the desire for fundamental fairness is written on our hearts.  Even in the worst conflict environments, or amongst the most incorrigible individuals, when you peel back the layers, there is a sense of grievance and injustice that hasn’t been addressed.  All of the world’s great religions contain justice as one of their core themes, and throughout human history, we have struggled to balance our baser instincts with the knowledge that without justice, there is no peace.  And in my world, without the rule of law, there is not justice.

So I want to challenge us all – what are we each doing to foster justice in our own communities and work?  How are we addressing the grievances of those around us?  Are we demonstrating mercy, compassion, empathy, or are we just assuming injustice away and dismissing the hurts of some as less important than others?   Are we actively working to make peace, or are we satisfied with mere words?

If you want peace, work for justice -- make these more than words.

Sometimes it's Tough to Watch People Trying to do the Right Thing

Sometimes it's Tough to Watch People Trying to do the Right Thing --

After following the (scant) news on the elections in Afghanistan that took place a couple of weeks ago, I decided to reach out to my Afghan Facebook friends to see how they were doing.  Had the violence been bad at their polling places?  Had they been scared/nervous?  Had security forces treated them well?  I didn't know what to expect, but I wanted something -- some indication that the Afghan people, for whom my family and I had sacrificed so much, were committed to a transition of power within the rule of law.

So what answers did I get?  That the elections were hard, but worth it.  That they want their nation to succeed.  That they want responsible leadership that will take them from violence and conflict, to peace and stability. And that they want everything we want -- a chance to live ordinary lives with hope and security.

To get this, my Afghan friends were willing to risk it all.  They voted.  They put their trust in the rule of law and in the end, they tried to do the right thing.  This picture says a thousand words.