Abstract
In the late 1990s when Canada was largely removing itself from United Nations peace support endeavours, private military and security companies were heralded as likely replacements. Canada has indicated its desire to reengage in a United Nations peace support milieu in which there is now a private military and security presence. It is not the type of presence initially envisioned, but it is one with multiple impacts regarding training and operations. This article emphasizes the interventions in the first decade of the twenty-first century and the corresponding, defensively minded regulations that came about in the private military and security industry. The article reveals that commercial logics are now insinuated in United Nations peace support operations and the private military and security presence therein is indicative of a larger shift in United Nations activities towards insularity and protection.
Keywords
The 1990s marked the decline of Canada as a substantial troop contributor in United Nations (UN) peace support operations for a variety of reasons. To begin, these operations were becoming more complex and dangerous. This was exemplified by the UN Security Council’s ground-breaking December 1992 invocation of chapter VII of the UN Charter for the humanitarian operation in Somalia. Subsequently, Canada’s UN engagements in Somalia, Rwanda, and the former Yugoslavia were tumultuous, draining, and ultimately unsettling for a military accustomed to earlier UN operations that relied upon the traditional principles of consent of the parties, impartiality, and the non-use of force except in self-defence. Moreover, these operations coincided with what General Rick Hillier, while serving as chief of the defence staff, retrospectively described as the “decade of darkness.” 1 During the 1990s, as the government tackled the deficit, the Department of National Defence’s budget dropped by 23 percent, with a resultant purchasing power loss of 30 percent. Concurrent with the financial cuts was a troop reduction from 88,000 personnel to 60,000 personnel, as laid out in the 1994 Defence White Paper.
To compensate for these reductions and to take into account the changing context of peace support operations, the government offered a new conceptual approach in its 1995 proposal “Towards a Rapid Reaction Capability for the United Nations.” The document espoused a “vanguard concept,” a well-trained, 5,000-member force that could quickly enter zones of instability to prevent the spread of violence. Because the force would arrive early, combat was not to be expected. 2 On the one hand, the proposal eventually meshed with Scandinavian initiatives and led to the creation of the Standby High Readiness Brigade for UN Peace Operations (SHIRBRIG); it was ready for operations from 2000 to 2009, and then stood down. On the other hand, Canada’s zeal for participation in UN peace support endeavours had definitely ebbed over the decade. Though the Canadian military fielded 1,002 personnel in UN peace support operations in 1990, that number was 425 by the close of 2000, and only 198 in 2002. 3 Participating troop levels continued to decline over the next decade.
There were, however, new actors in the 1990s that were seemingly well-positioned to take the place of Canada and other countries who were doing less and less peace support work: private military and security companies (PMSCs). These companies, epitomized by the South African firm Executive Outcomes (EO) and its contracts in Angola (1993–1995) and Sierra Leone (1995–1997), were well-trained, well-equipped, and not hesitant about working in a dangerous milieu and applying force therein. They were also not averse to casualties. Taking into account the 2000 Report of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations, PMSCs seemingly possessed what states often lacked: “The United Nations has bitterly and repeatedly discovered over the last decade, [that] no amount of good intentions can substitute for the fundamental ability to project credible force if complex peacekeeping, in particular, is to succeed.” 4 Though—as we shall see—the UN did not engage PMSCs as providers of frontline peace support personnel in the 1990s, one proponent nevertheless made the industry’s benefits clear: “Write a Cheque, End a War.” 5
While a Canadian mission has not been launched at the time of writing, the Liberal government, on 26 August 2016, did announce Canada’s desired return to UN peace support operations. 6 Hence, this article is an early intervention that investigates the conceptual and operational environment in which the Canadian military would likely be engaged should an endeavour be initiated. Indeed, there are several questions for Canadian policymakers and analysts to consider: Why did a frontline PMSC presence not come about in UN peace support operations in the 1990s? What roles do PMSCs have today regarding UN peace support operations? How does the PMSC presence change the UN posture in the field? What might the implications be for the Canadian military should they either work to train peace support personnel or serve in UN missions directly?
To investigate these questions, the balance of the article has four parts. First, it presents the reasons why the PMSC presence did not come to fruition as expected in light of the 1990s era challenges. While it considers state and UN factors, the article particularly emphasizes the impact of interventions in the first decade of the twenty-first century, and the corresponding, defensively minded regulations that came about. In these matters, Canada was an active participant in shaping the PMSC industry. Second, the article considers the role PMSCs play in training peace support personnel. Given that Canadian policymakers have espoused that Canada can provide peace support training, appreciating the implications of PMSC-supplied training funded by the United States will be key. Third, the article identifies the increasingly protective and insular stance in UN activities in which PMSCs play a role. This PMSC informed protective posture is in keeping with the defensive focus instilled by states, but it is also in accordance with perpetuating commercial dynamics that may not be beneficial for the achievement of UN and Canadian objectives. The final part concludes with implications for future Canadian policymaking. Overall, the Canadian government and its military must take these factors into account, either through their own operations or through recognition that the utility of force may be limited in the strategic context.
PMSC shift to the defensive
One can point to a number of UN-centric rationales to explain why frontline peace support duties did not fall to the private sector in the 1990s and beyond. First, with regards to troop-contributing countries, many developing world states that had taken over the peace support mantle from developed world states like Canada did not desire competition. Peace support operations provided valuable hard currency remuneration. Additionally, UN peace support participation kept sizeable portions of various armed forces abroad, an important factor for some countries with delicate civil-military relationships. Second, on the developed world side, some states were wary of the UN developing an ongoing military capacity that might go against their interests. For example, in 1999, the US Congress passed a bill threatening to suspend US dues to the world body should it develop its own permanent military capabilities. Third, Jean-Marie Guéhenno, the under-secretary-general for peacekeeping operations from 2000 to 2008, argued that relying on private actors did not underscore a genuine commitment to UN peace support operations amongst states: “With private troops, the first signal you send is: this is important, but not important enough to risk our own people.” 7 If the UN, according to its charter, was “to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war,” and if the UN’s constituent membership of sovereign states was to operationalize this responsibility through their own blood and treasure, then it followed that frontline peace support was not something that could be easily privatized away.
Building on these significant hurdles, the broader issue is that the expectations of states changed, and so too did the PMSC industry’s sense of itself. This came about through increased state PMSC usage evident in Iraq and Afghanistan with thousands of armed contractors in theatre. What is important to note, in terms of consumer power, is that state employers actively framed their PMSC utilization as defensive in nature. 8 For instance, the US Department of Defense and the US Department of State indicated that firms were “limited to a defensive response to hostile acts or demonstrated hostile intent.” 9 From one standpoint, this defensive focus was to distance firms and their employers from the pejorative word “mercenary.” The United States Federal Acquisition Regulation makes this plain: “Private security contractors are not mercenaries and are not authorized to engage in offensive operations.” 10 From another standpoint, the defensive focus was increasingly set by states in order to bolster the offensive credentials of their militaries. Because of the inherent political nature of upsetting the status quo by going on the offensive, the offensive/defensive divide distinguished professional boundaries for militaries (recognizing, of course, that militaries could still act on the defensive). It followed that any non-state actor who pursued offensive action was a de facto mercenary. As a result, industry representatives have emphatically made the offensive/defensive distinction: “In the Geneva Conventions there is no difference between offensive and defensive combat, which is pretty interesting. The way it’s sort of come down and been sorted out by the international community is it really does make that differentiation.” 11
Governance initiatives for the PMSC industry over the course of the 2000s continued to make this differentiation. At the turn of the millennium, several states, non-governmental organizations (NGOs), and extraction companies devised the Voluntary Principles on Security and Human Rights. These principles put PMSCs on a defensive footing: “Consistent with their function, private security should provide only preventative and defensive services and should not engage in activities exclusively the responsibility of state military or law enforcement authorities.” 12 Later, the 2008 Montreux Document on Pertinent International Legal Obligations and Good Practices for States related to Operations of Private Military and Security Companies reiterated the boundaries for PMSCs: they are to employ “force and firearms only when necessary in self-defence or defence of third persons.” 13 At the time of writing, 54 states have offered their support for the document. Similarly, the 2010 International Code of Conduct for Private Security Service Providers (ICoC), the quid pro quo to the state-oriented Montreux Document, reinforces the PMSC defensive stance: “Signatory Companies [over 700 at the time of writing] will require that their Personnel not use firearms against persons except in self-defence or defence of others against the imminent threat of death or serious injury, or to prevent the perpetration of a particularly serious crime involving grave threat to life.” 14
Regarding both state usage and PMSC governance, Canada has been an active player in shaping the industry functionally and normatively. For state usage, PMSCs did play an important role in Canada’s Afghanistan mission. On one hand, contracting generally made the mission more politically palatable and operationally sustainable. 15 On the other hand, Canadian PMSC usage, measured in hundreds of contracted personnel, arguably undermined the achievement of other Canadian goals, such as security sector reform in Afghanistan. This is because Afghans flocked to PMSCs rather than to lower-paying and more dangerous work in the Afghan armed forces. 16
Normatively for Canada, this PMSC contribution occurred within the aforementioned defensive boundaries, whether it manifested itself in protection of the main base in Kandahar, the military’s forward operating bases in the countryside, or the Strategic Advisory Team in Kabul. Reliance on PMSCs for defensive activities allowed the military to concentrate instead on combat-oriented tasks. Looking at doctrine, this is not surprising because the Canadian military, like other armed forces, places the offensive in high regard: “Offensive action is required in order to defeat an opponent and is the necessary forerunner of success.… Distinct advantage lies with the offence because it confers the initiative, gives freedom of action, and compels the enemy to be reactive rather than proactive.” 17
As for governance, Canada was involved in all three developments noted above. For the Voluntary Principles on Security and Human Rights, Canada became a state participant in 2009. Soon after, in 2011–2012, and again in 2016–2017, Canada served as the chair of the corresponding Voluntary Principles on Security and Human Rights Initiative. For the Montreux Document, Canada was one of the negotiating states and one of the 17 original state signatories. Canada engaged in the Montreux Process out of an honest recognition that Canada employed PMSCs, but believing that framing the industry in the context of a debate about mercenaries was unhelpful. Instead, there was a political and pragmatic need to set out what tasks states could legitimately ask firms to perform. As for the development of the ICoC, while Canada was not involved to the same degree given the reduced political salience, neither was it disinterested. Canadian legal and policy advice were on offer. 18 More recently, Canadian participation vis-à-vis the code has grown. In December 2016, Canada became a government signatory for the code’s governance body, the ICoC Association (ICoCA). This made Canada the ICoCA’s seventh state signatory. As well, the ICoCA’s guidelines stipulate that the Montreux Document must remain at the forefront of Canadian policymaking at home and abroad: “In becoming a Member, such States … commit to provide information related to their implementation of the Montreux Document and the Code, including the development of their domestic regulatory framework for PSC activities, and to promote compliance with the ICoC in their contracting practices and policies.” 19
The collective irony is that Canada and other states have made the PMSC industry more and more defensive in orientation at a time when UN peace support requirements are becoming more and more robust and assertive. Conceptually, the 16 June 2015 report by the High-Level Independent Panel on Peace Operations returned to the “vanguard concept” espoused by Canada and others earlier, but with the additional proviso that it be able to reinforce an existing mission. 20 In practice, UN Security Council Resolution 2098 on 28 March 2013 authorized the creation of a 3,000-strong UN Force Intervention Brigade for operations in the Democratic Republic of Congo. As indicated in the UN press release at the time, this resolution was unique in its orientation, and in its naming of specific adversaries: “The Security Council today approved the creation of its first-ever ‘offensive’ combat force, intended to carry out targeted operations to ‘neutralize and disarm’ the notorious 23 March Movement (M23), as well as other Congolese rebels and foreign armed groups in strife-riven eastern Democratic Republic of Congo.” 21 Similarly, on 12 August 2016, UN Security Council Resolution 2304 endorsed a 4,000-member regional protection force for South Sudan. Again, robustness and assertiveness are evident through this force’s “all necessary means mandate.” 22
Unquestionably, not all troop-contributing countries are pleased with such developments, given the fear that their military personnel might face the repercussions of such a force’s actions, or that they might be asked to fill its ranks. They long to follow the aforementioned traditional peace support principles. 23 Nevertheless, the ship has seemingly sailed regarding PMSCs filling the assertive role in the place of states. For one British industry representative, an EO-type option is not possible because “the industry as we see it today developed along a different model.” 24 Likewise, for one US industry association representative, an EO-like contract in the future is unlikely: “I don’t think that’ll happen again, and certainly not that way.” 25
Training
Foreshadowing the 26 August 2016 announcement noted above, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s November 2015 mandate letter to the incoming minister of national defence, Harjit Sajjan, outlined Canada’s hoped-for commitment to UN peace support operations. In particular, the prime minister wished Canada to lead “an international effort to improve and expand the training of military and civilian personnel deployed on peace operations.” 26 Without a doubt, peace support training has qualitative and quantitative rationales. Sufficiently trained personnel are better able to contribute to UN operations, and there is a larger pool from which the UN might request support. What is more, there is a greater likelihood that states will offer, and offer generously, peace support personnel after they have been so trained. 27
To be successful, such a Canadian peace support training initiative would have to take into account a variety of factors. Who is currently providing training, under what methodologies, and where? What is the possibility of overlap, conflicting policies, and redundancy? Answers to these questions would reveal, especially in the African context, substantial PMSC involvement. A considerable amount of this PMSC involvement is driven by the United States (also the largest financial contributor to the UN’s peace support budget and other related efforts). The United States has employed PMSCs for peace support training through several interlinked programmes: the African Crisis Response Initiative (ACRI) (established in 1996), the Africa Contingency Operations Training and Assistance (ACOTA) (replacing ACRI in 2004), and the Global Peace Operations Initiative (GPOI) (incorporating ACOTA in 2005). The US government has selected a number of companies through successive competitive contracting to participate in these programmes: Military Professional Resources Incorporated (MPRI), Northrop Grumman Corporation, Blackwater, Pacific Architects and Engineers (PAE), and Engility LLC. Over time, their efforts have moved from a UN Charter chapter VI orientation to a more robust UN Charter chapter VII stance. In total, during the past two decades, and at a cost of over $1 billion USD, hundreds of thousands of troops, predominantly from Africa, have received peace support training through these programmes. 28
The implications of PMSC-supplied training for Canada are twofold. First, it suggests that any Canadian “international effort” should not ignore PMSCs funded by the United States. As Deborah Avant contends, PMSC-supplied training represents “a new process by which military knowledge is shared and spread.” 29 While PMSCs may have been blocked from performing offensive activities that fall into state domain, training has nonetheless enabled “others with different bases of expertise a legitimate position.” 30 Adopting only a state military approach towards peace support cooperation would isolate expert actors that have not only garnered legitimacy through their training efforts, but are also now respected as legitimate in their own right.
Second, and in a linked way, it would be necessary for Canada to appreciate the content of PMSC-supplied training. One cannot assume that this training is simply a technical affair in which firms transmit US-military generated tactics, techniques, and procedures. Put differently, drawing on the “boat metaphor” language employed by David Osborne and Ted Gaebler, the divide between those steering and those rowing may not be so plain or fall along strict state/non-state actor lines. 31 Not only do PMSCs deliver theoretical and practical training components, they also at times design the content and plan the curriculum. It follows from this observation that PMSCs assert “epistemic power” through what they devise and teach that iteratively is informed by and substantiates the legitimacy that they hold. 32 This is not to imply that privately supplied training is necessarily misdirected or nefarious in its design and/or execution. In fact, PMSC initiatives of this sort can arguably be much more tailored and sensitive to local concerns, capabilities, and resources, compared with the cookie-cutter approaches sometimes offered by state military trainers. 33 It is instead to recognize, as Åse Gilje Østensen does, that “professional ethos, education, norms and occupational culture shape the way security actors view the world, and accordingly what problems and solutions exist to them.” 34 What does a PMSC-trained soldier believe and act upon in the realm of peace support? Are these characteristics fundamentally different from what a solely state-trained soldier believes and how he/she operates? It behoves Canada, therefore, to consider closely what PMSCs offer and how they offer it, to determine if it is collectively in line not only with Canadian training, but also with Canadian political objectives vis-à-vis UN peace support.
PMSC defensive involvement
Despite not being employed as frontline UN peace support personnel, PMSCs are present in daily UN security activities. Though the UN General Assembly adopted the December 1994 Convention on the Security of United Nations and Associated Personnel, much more has been required than just respecting the UN as an institution. As such, while UN actors have had contractual relationships with firms dating back to the 1990s, PMSC involvement increased considerably, in terms of both peace support and political missions, following the August 2003 attack on the UN Headquarters in Iraq. 35 A 2013 UN assessment captures the variety of ways the UN relies upon firms for its operations: “PMSCs provide guard services for UN offices, residential security for staff, as well as support for humanitarian activities, including risk assessments, threat analysis, and contributing to the development of security strategy.” 36 For guarding specifically, the UN can use firms for both static and mobile protection, and they operate in the defensive context noted above: “The use of armed security personnel is a security risk management measure that provides two main functions: a visible deterrent to potential attackers (raising their perceived risk from targeting the protected target) and as an armed response to repel any attack not deterred.” 37 Overall, 2012 findings indicated that the UN utilized 5,072 contracted personnel to support its political and peace support efforts on five continents: Africa (Burundi, Cameroon, Central African Republic, Democratic Republic of Congo, Guinea-Bissau, Ivory Coast, Kenya, Liberia, Libya, Nigeria, Sierra Leone, Somalia, Sudan, and Uganda); Asia (Afghanistan, East Timor, Iraq, Jordan, Kuwait, and Lebanon); North America (Haiti); and Europe (Italy, Kosovo, and Serbia). 38
Although UN policy, in place since 1996, indicates that guards are to be used on an “exceptional basis” and that firms are to be used as a “last resort,” Elke Krahmann recognizes that the world body has “done little to prevent the extensive employment of security guards by UN agencies and missions.” 39 From one perspective, PMSC reliance is simply a functional reflection of the dangers UN actors face. UN secretary-general Ban Ki-moon reported in 2015 that, “in stark contrast to the past, respect for United Nations system personnel, including those carrying out humanitarian mandates, has eroded among opportunistic groups, rival militias and violent extremist entities.” 40
There are three reasons for this erosion. First, UN actors may be targeted because of what they are perceived to be: a foreign presence to be removed because “they are part of the infidel project.” 41 In this sense, according to Robert Perito, “Islamist terrorist organizations pose a fundamentally different challenge than armed groups the United Nations has faced in the past.” 42 Second, UN actors may be targeted because of whom they represent: their state membership with its own political agendas to advance. 43 Finally, UN actors may be targeted because it has always been problematic for them to claim protection under the humanitarian ethics’ three principles of independence, neutrality, and impartiality. This is because of integrated approaches that blend a variety of actors, initiatives, and objectives together. 44 It is also because securing and building peace is a highly political endeavour that is likely to anger and dissatisfy many.
From another perspective, though, PMSC reliance enables UN operations to continue at the behest of the state membership in spite of the dangers. As identified by Ban Ki-moon in 2010, there has been a “fundamental shift in mindset from ‘when to leave’ to ‘how to stay.’” 45 Later, in 2012, he contended that UN bodies faced threats not only because of their unique nature as noted above, but also because “Member States increasingly expect the United Nations to deliver its mandated programmes” in conflict zones. 46 While traditional state contributors to peace support operations are not keen on the increasingly assertive tone of UN operations described earlier, neither do they consider guarding as part of their responsibilities or as an activity for which they receive ample credit. 47 This provides an entrée for PMSCs that are more than willing to serve.
The implication of “staying” through PMSC protection is that there has been a “bunkerization” of UN endeavours. 48 To explain, Koenraad Van Brabant’s pioneering work on security identified the points on the so-called security triangle: acceptance, protection, and deterrence. Acceptance entails a sense of solidarity and the development of trust with those requiring assistance. The ensuing relationship in turn helps to make secure people and facilities. It follows that acceptance involves ongoing efforts to interact with domestic populations for the sake of lowering suspicions and garnering information. At the other two points, protection entails the “hardening” of facilities and procedures, and deterrence goes a step further by presenting a counter-threat. 49 Bunkerization moves away from acceptance, entails protection at the very least, and might even slip towards deterrence, because even with a defensive orientation, others might see a PMSC presence as threatening.
The UN has long known of the potential implications of bunkerization. The 2008 Report of the Independent Panel on Safety and Security of UN Personnel and Premises Worldwide warned against a “UN fortress” mentality that entailed “a model of protection perceived as being based on over-reliance on physical security tools.… [It] potentially distances it from the public it was founded to serve. This physical profile, in the eyes of many, has a direct negative impact on UN image.” 50
Continued PMSC involvement will enhance this particular defensive approach in an iterative manner because of the industry’s growing stature. Returning to the rowing/steering point analyzed above, once relied upon, firms will seek to continue their employment, whether through their consultancy or through the provision of more “physical” services. This is not surprising, as PMSCs are commercial entities. Additionally, given that these firms are increasingly seen as legitimate, they can exercise an epistemological influence over their clients. 51 In this sense, social constructions change so that firms become part of the larger security apparatus; they are seemingly organic. The result is that while profitable outcomes and good policy may coincide, they are not necessarily synonymous. As one PMSC analyst put it, the “industry behaves like an unguided missile, seeking profit wherever the market will bear it, even if it means a loss for society as a whole.” 52 What is more, the very nature of “good policy” is up for debate if the PMSC presence is indeed organic.
One can therefore contend that it is less and less likely that PMSCs will only be used on an exceptional and last-resort basis in the UN context. Instructive here is the example from earlier this century of maritime shippers relying upon PMSCs to protect their vessels from Somali pirates. The Baltic and International Maritime Council (BIMCO), the shipping association accounting for 65 percent of global tonnage, viewed reliance on PMSCs by shippers as only a supplementary, and arguably last-resort, measure. Instead, dependence on the industry’s best management practices was key for BIMCO. 53 Nevertheless, PMSC reliance grew considerably. A 2009 study found that only 1 percent of vessels travelling in pirate-plagued waters near Somalia had PMSC protection. In 2011, the number was as high as 10 percent. By 2012, the level was approximately 40 percent. 54 With the greater PMSC presence, state navies were able to direct their attention elsewhere, governments did not have to contemplate expensive and dangerous measures on land in East Africa, and maritime trade could continue with a reduced chance of being interrupted. In this light, PMSCs conducted their work effectively, but with a particular mindset, one evident in the comments of this PMSC official: “We are not here to save Somalia.… It’s not a solution to piracy, it’s a business plan to make money.” 55
One should also consider commercial logics. Not only are firms afforded the opportunity to imbue in their clients a sense of what security should look like, this security will likely have a limited defensive tenor. This is in part because of states and others pushing PMSCs into a defensive mould, but it is also because the nature of the goods PMSCs mostly provide: private ones that are excludable and rival in consumption (the latter meaning that if used by someone, there is less/nothing for others). Put differently, PMSCs strive to limit who is to be protected. Rather than provide public or collective goods that others will not pay for, they offer goods that are focused on the customer rather than on others who might free ride. Moreover, they are focused on the customer in a certain way—in a manner wherein it can be shown that the customer is the primary beneficiary of protection. PMSC efforts to address the wider reasons that the UN might be present in the first instance would not allow for similar measurements. As such, the mission that the UN wishes to advance, or the objective it wants to pursue, are of lesser importance. In this sense, the restricted protection of UN personnel by PMSCs does not provide a good to populations in need directly. It is UN personnel who do this, although the manner in which they do so may be compromised by the aforementioned bunkerization. Therefore, whereas PMSCs provide private goods, UN personnel, partly as a result of their interaction with PMSCs, offer public goods that are “impure,” meaning that not everyone will have the opportunity to consume UN-provided assistance, or to do so equally. 56
Given these dynamics, there are implications for Canadian participation in peace support operations. Firstly, in operational terms with UN actors bunkered down, Canadian military personnel will have to be cognizant of the limitations they will face in their interactions with their UN counterparts. Even though Canadian military personnel may be at risk merely by operationalizing an aggressive UN mandate, they may nevertheless have to lower their expectations vis-à-vis the UN’s official presence in a conflict environment. UN actors may not be able to achieve the goals the Canadian military and the government want, or at least not at the rate desired. The political ramifications are evident, whether they concern domestic politics or intra-UN politics and Canada’s desire for a non-permanent UN Security Council seat.
Secondly, while the above contends that the commercial logics of PMSCs pose operational consequences for how the UN secures itself, which in turn affects programming, one should not forget the larger narrative about the UN needing to be there/stay at the behest of its state membership. Certainly, a PMSC presence allows UN actors to be present, whatever the compromises. However, one should note that the promotion of PMSC usage outside of major interventions has been described as “‘liddism’—that is, keeping the lid on [a conflict or challenge] rather than reducing the heat.” 57 This suggests that Canadian military personnel might be under difficult pressure to do even more, compared to their UN counterparts, given the government’s stated desire to take “concrete actions to prevent and respond to conflicts abroad and to support UN peace operations in building a more peaceful and prosperous world.” 58
Thirdly, and relatedly, one can question the utility of the Canadian application of force, should “concreteness” and building not be forthcoming. Even in ideal circumstances, stability operations entail the following: long periods of time, considerable patience and political flexibility, and activities often unsuited to the kinetic application of violence. What is sought is an acceptable “condition” rather than a “victory,” a metric that is difficult for many Western state militaries to grapple with and achieve, and for their populations back home to appreciate. 59 Undeniably, the Conservative government was often perplexed and frustrated by the numerous challenges Canadian military personnel encountered in Afghanistan. Additionally, the related risks and the incurring of casualties sapped Canadian desire, and that of other North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) member states, to achieve an inherently “gray” acceptable condition over the long haul, a different venture entirely compared to a clear-cut, black-and-white win. With a UN somewhat compromised in terms of achieving an acceptable condition, one wonders if the current Liberal government will face similar frustrations through the military’s participation in peace support operations.
Conclusion
Should Canada return to UN peace support operations, many opportunities and challenges will become evident. On the one hand, substantial Canadian participation would move Canada much higher in the ranks of global troop contributors. While not approaching the numerical presence of decades past, the probable level of Canadian participation amongst Western states would be behind that of only two other G7 partners, Italy and France. 60 On the other hand, the operational milieu would certainly be more complex and risky in comparison with many past endeavours. Already, National Defence Minister Sajjan has underscored the probable differences and dangers. 61
Additional complications would likely arise given the efforts of certain actors not present in Canada’s earlier UN missions: PMSCs. These firms would not be competitors in terms of providing frontline personnel. That remains the preserve of states, in light of the increasing defensive proclivities of PMSCs instilled by states (Canada included) and the industry alike. However, firms are active in the training of potential peace support personnel, especially as vehicles for the delivery of US-funded training. PMSC-supplied training would no doubt impact proposed Canadian training and recipient trainees alike. As well, PMSC defensive consulting and services for UN organizations facilitate the introduction and continuance of UN activities in dangerous environments at the behest of states, while at the same time creating a bunkerization effect that has implications for UN programming. These developments, in turn, should force reflections on what Canada should expect from UN actors, on what Canadian peace support personnel may have to do in the field, and on the utility of Canadian applied force.
Looking to the future, there are measures meriting further examination that Canadian policymakers might follow hand-in-hand with a proposed return to UN peace support efforts. From one stance, should PMSC–UN interaction be something that Canada wishes to continue (again, Canada has been a considerable client in its own right), then it might work within the UN system to instil the fact that the UN possesses considerable power both as a client and as a legitimizer of the PMSC industry. The argument is that it is possible for the UN to differently incentivize the industry towards particular means and objectives, lest the division between steerers and rowers becomes obliterated altogether. Put differently, the UN has not recognized its status as a significant “norm entrepreneur” regarding the industry. 62 Canada could seek to change this. 63 Alternatively, Canada might deem that a cordon sanitaire needs to be erected around the UN, at least in terms of PMSC consultancy and defensive duties, for functional and even symbolic reasons. With this approach, it should work to ensure that state contributors provide sufficient protection to UN personnel and offer advice that is cognizant of the longstanding UN ethos regarding security. While having a non-permanent seat on the UN Security Council would certainly help, Canada could still interact closely on this matter with troop contributing states along with the UN Department of Peacekeeping Operations. The outcome here would be commercial actors not directing the UN away from its more universalistic or holistic stance for which member states are ultimately responsible.
To close, in announcing Canada’s hoped-for reengagement in UN peace support efforts in August 2016, then-foreign affairs minister Stéphane Dion indicated that the government’s goal is “not to be in never-ending fights around the world,” but “to make a difference.” 64 At present, making a difference would require, at the very least, recognition of the increased role PMSCs now play in UN peace support operations, of what the implications might be, and of what Canada might do in terms of amelioration should Canada return to the UN peace support fold.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
1
2
3
4
5
Doug Brooks, “Write a cheque, end a war: Using private military companies to end African conflicts,” Conflict Trends (June 2000),
(accessed 9 October 2017). In this vein, EO officials developed a plan to respond to the Rwandan Genocide, had EO been asked by the UN to do so. Document in possession of author.
6
7
8
Initially, analysts were skeptical that an offensive/defensive distinction could be made. See P. W. Singer, Corporate Warriors: The Rise of the Privatized Military Industry (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2003), 90–91.
9
United States Department of Defense, “Instruction: private security contractors (PSCs) operating in contingency operations, humanitarian or peace operations, or other military operations or exercises,” 1 August 2011, 12.
10
United States Senate, The Readiness and Management Support Subcommittee of the Senate Committee on Armed Services, testimony of Mr. Jack Bell, deputy under secretary of defense (Logistics and Materiel Readiness), 2 April 2008, 5.
11
12
13
14
15
Christopher Spearin, “Canada and contracted war: Afghanistan and beyond,” International Journal 69, no. 4 (December 2014): 525–541, 525.
16
Christopher Spearin, “What Manley missed: The human security implications of private security in Afghanistan,” Human Security Bulletin 6, no. 3 (March 2008): 8–11.
17
18
Canadian stance on the Montreux Document and the ICoC noted in correspondence between a Global Affairs Canada official and the author, 13 March 2017.
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23
Robert M. Perito, “UN peacekeeping in the Sahel: Overcoming new challenges,” special report 365, United States Institute of Peace, March 2015, https://www.usip.org/publications/2015/03/un-peacekeeping-sahel-overcoming-new-challenges (accessed 9 October 2017), 7; Terry Liston, “How Ottawa can ensure ‘Canada is back’ on peacekeeping,” The Globe and Mail, 5 September 2016,
amp;">https://beta.theglobeandmail.com/opinion/how-ottawa-can-ensure-canada-is-back-on-peacekeeping/article31695494/?ref=http://www.theglobeandmail.com& (accessed 9 October 2017).
24
Andrew Bearpark, “The case for humanitarian organizations to use private security contractors,” in Benjamin Perrin, ed., Modern Warfare: Armed Groups, Private Militaries, Humanitarian Organizations, and the Law (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2012), 160.
26
27
Nikolas Emmanuel, “African peacekeepers in Africa,” African Security Review 24, no. 1 (March 2015): 24, 35–36.
28
White House, Office of the Press Secretary, “FACT SHEET: U.S. Support for Peacekeeping in Africa,” 6 August 2014, https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/2014/08/06/fact-sheet-us-support-peacekeeping-africa (accessed 9 October 2017); Department of State, “U.S. Peacekeeping Capacity Building Assistance,” 25 January 2017, https://www.state.gov/t/pm/rls/fs/2017/266854.htm (accessed 9 October 2017); Congressional Research Service, “The Global Peace Operations Initiative: Background and Issues for Congress,” 11 June 2007, http://www.operationspaix.net/DATA/DOCUMENT/40∼v∼The_Global_Peace_Operations_Initiative__Background_and_Issues_for_Congress.pdf (accessed 9 October 2017); GovTribe, “African Contingency Operations Training and Assistance Program (ACOTA),”
(accessed 9 October 2017).
29
Deborah Avant, The Market for Force: The Consequences of Privatizing Security (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 134.
30
Deborah Avant, “Losing control of the profession through outsourcing,” in Don M. Snider and Lloyd J. Matthews, eds., The Future of the Army Profession (Boston: McGraw Hill, 2005), 274–275.
31
David Osborne and Ted Gaebler, Reinventing Government: How the Entrepreneurial Spirit is Transforming the Public Sector (Reading: Addison-Wesley, 1992), 20.
32
Åse Gilje Østensen, “In the business of peace: The political influence of private military and security companies on UN peacekeeping,” International Peacekeeping 20, no. 1 (February 2013): 38–39; Anna Leander, “The power to construct international security: On the significance of private military companies,” Millennium 33, no. 3 (June 2005): 803–825, 808.
33
Østensen, “In the business of peace,” 39; Sean McFate, “Outsourcing the making of militaries: DynCorp International as sovereign agent,” Review of African Political Economy 35, no. 118 (December 2008): 645–654, at 652–653.
34
Østensen, “In the business of peace,” 35.
35
Christopher Spearin, “Private security companies and humanitarians: A corporate solution to securing humanitarian spaces?” International Peacekeeping 8, no. 1 (Spring 2001): 28; Lou Pingeot, “Dangerous Partnership: Private Military & Security Companies and the UN,” Global Policy Forum, June 2012,
(accessed 9 October 2017), 22–23.
36
37
38
United Nations, “Reports on the Department of Safety and Security and on the Use of Private Security,” 12 December 2012, http://www.un.org/en/ga/search/view_doc.asp?symbol=A%20/67/624 (accessed 9 October 2017), annexes 1 and 2. There is the contention that this may be inaccurate, that reliance across the UN system may be higher. Lou Pingeot, “Contracting Insecurity: Private Military and Security Companies and the Future of the United Nations,” Global Policy Forum, February 2014,
(accessed 9 October 2017), 4.
39
Elke Krahmann, “The UN guidelines on the use of armed guards: Recommendations for improvement,” International Community Law Review 16, no. 4 (2014): 481; United Nations, “Guidelines on the use of Armed Security Services,” 1–2; United Nations, “Reports on the Department of Safety and Security,” 7.
40
United Nations, “Comprehensive Report on the United Nations Department of Safety and Security,” 18 October 2012, http://repository.un.org/bitstream/handle/11176/298688/A_67_526-EN.pdf?sequence=3&isAllowed=y (accessed 9 October 2017), 21.
42
Perito, “UN peacekeeping in the Sahel,” 3.
43
M. Artiñano, P. Blair, N. Collin, B. Godefroy, C. Godfrey, B. Marticorena, D. McCurdy, O. McDougall, and S. Ross, “Adapting and evolving: The implications of transnational terrorism for UN field missions,” Woodrow Wilson School graduate policy workshop, Princeton University, April 2014,
(accessed 9 October 2017), 24. Some NGOs, in contrast, have attempted to make the distinction. See Christopher Spearin, “Private, armed, and humanitarian? States, NGOs, international private security companies and shifting humanitarianism,” Security Dialogue 39, no. 4 (August 2008): 370; Pingeot, “Contracting insecurity,” 13.
44
Sara E. Davies and Simon Rushton, “Pubic health emergencies: A new peacekeeping mission? Insights from UNMIL’s role in the Liberia Ebola outbreak,” Third World Quarterly 37, no. 3 (2016): 429; Pingeot, “Contracting insecurity,” 12; Pingeot, “Dangerous partnership,” 36–37.
45
46
United Nations, “Comprehensive Report on the United Nations Department of Safety and Security,” 21. Emphasis added.
47
Krahmann, “The UN guidelines,” 7–8.
48
Pingeot, “Dangerous partnership,” 8.
49
Koenraad Van Brabant, “Operational security management in violent environments,” HPN good practice review 8, 2000, 56–86; Christopher Spearin, “Enduring challenges of security privatization in the humanitarian space,” in Anna Leander and Rita Abrahamsen, eds., Routledge Handbook of Private Security Studies (New York: Routledge, 2016), 110.
50
United Nations, “Report of the Independent Panel on Safety and Security of UN Personnel and Premises Worldwide,” 9 June 2008,
(accessed 9 October 2017), 73. In this vein, Robert Perito even asserts that there is a “militarization of UN field missions [that] contradicts the public image that the United Nations would like to project. It also makes it difficult for local officials and civil society to visit UN compounds and interact with UN advisers, an essential element in capacity building and development programs.” Perito, “UN peacekeeping in the Sahel,” 4.
51
Østensen, “In the business of peace,” 33; Leander, “The power to construct international security,” 803–825; Elke Krahmann, “Security: Collective good or commodity?” European Journal of International Relations 14, no. 3 (September 2008): 390.
52
McFate, “Outsourcing the making of militaries,” 650.
53
54
Statistics taken from the following sources: “Laws and Guns,” The Economist, 14 April 2012, http://www.economist.com/node/21552553 (accessed 9 October 2017); Ben West, “The expensive, diminishing threat of Somali piracy,” Stratfor, 8 November 2012,
(accessed 9 October 2017); Claude G. Berube and Patrick Cullen, “Editors’ introduction: The emergence of maritime private security,” in Claude G. Berube and Patrick Cullen, eds., Maritime Private Security: Market Responses to Piracy, Terrorism and Waterborne Security Risks in the 21st Century (New York: Routledge, 2012), 5; International Maritime Organization, “Piracy and Armed Robbery Against Ships: Guidelines for Shipping Companies on the use of Private Maritime Security Companies (PMSC) – Submitted by BIMCO,” 22 March 2011, 2.
55
56
This presentation on private goods is informed by Østensen, “In the business of peace,” 41; Pingeot, “Contracting insecurity,” 14; Krahmann, “Security,” 367, 370, 383, 385–386, 393; Elke Krahmann, “Beck and beyond: Selling security in the world risk society,” Review of International Studies 37, no. 1 (January 2011): 370. For impure public goods specifically, see Brian J. Hesse, “Two generations, two interventions in one of the world’s most-failed states: The United States, Kenya and Ethiopia in Somalia,” Journal of Asian and African Studies 51, no. 5 (October 2016): 587, 589.
57
Paul Rogers, “Security by ‘remote control’: Can it work?” RUSI Journal 158, no. 3 (June/July 2013): 14.
58
59
Rupert Smith, The Utility of Force: The Art of War in the Modern World (London: Penguin Books, 2005), 182; Christopher Dandeker, “The end of war? The strategic context of international missions in the twenty first century,” in Magnus Chritiansson, ed., Eight Essays in Contemporary War Studies (Stockholm: Military Academy Karlberg, 2007), 27.
60
61
62
Krahmann, “The UN guidelines,” 5.
63
It should be recognized that Canada itself has perhaps not fully come to terms with the implications of its own usage of PMSCs. See Spearin, “Canada and contracted war,” 538–539.
64
Author Biography
Dr. Christopher Spearin is a professor in the Department of Defence Studies of the Royal Military College of Canada, located at the Canadian Forces College in Toronto.
