Daniel J. Christie, Peace Psychology (2001)

PEACE.
CON F L I C T,
AND

VIOLENCE

PEACE, CONFLICT,
AND VIOLENCE
Peace Psychology
for the 21 st Century

Daniel J. Christie
OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY

Richard V. Wagner
BATES COLLEGE

Deborah Du Nann Winter
WHITMAN COLLEGE

Upper Saddle River, New Jersey 07458

LilJrary of Congress Cotaloging-in-Pub/ication Data
Peace, conflict, and violence / [edited by] Daniel]. Christie, Richard V. Wagner,
Deborah Du Nann Winter.

p.em.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0-1~96821-8
1. Conflict management. 2. Peace-Psychological aspects. 3. Social justice. 4.
Violence. I. Christie, Daniel]. II. Wagner, Richard V. TIl. Winter, Deborah Du Nann.
HM1l26.P42001
303.6'!Hic21

00-059830

This book is d£dicated to Ro.lph K. While, with gratitude and admirotion.
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CONTENTS

Foreword

vii

ix

Preface

Acknowledgments
Contributors

xiii

xv

Introduction to Peace Psychology
DanielJ Christie, Richard V. Wagner, and Deborah Du Nann Winter

SECTION

I

DIRECT VIOLENCE

1

15

Richard V. Wagner

1

Intimate Violence
Naomi A.brahams

19

2

Anti-Gay/Lesbian Violence in the United States
Bianca Cody Murphy

28

3

Intrastate Violence
Ulrike Niens and Ed Cairns

39

iii

iv

Contents

49

4

Nationalism and War: A Social-Psychological Perspective
Daniel Druckman

5

Integrative Complexity and Political Decisions that Lead
to War or Peace
Lucian Gideon Conway III, Petl!T'Suedfeid, and Philip E. Tetlock

6

Genocide and Mass Killing: Their Roots and Prevention
Ervin Staub

76

7

Weapons of Mass Descruction
Michael Britton

87

SECTION

II

STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE

66

99

Deborah Du Nann Wintl!T' and Dana C. Leighton

8

Social Injustice
Susan opotow

9

The War Close to Home: Children and Violence
in the United States
Kathleen Kostelny and James Garbarino

102

110

10

Children and Structural Violence
Milton Schwebel and DanielJ Christie

120

11

Women. Girls. and Structural Violence: A Global Analysis
Dyan Mazurana and Susan McKay

130

12

Understanding Militarism: Money. Masculinity.
and the Search for the Mystical
Deborah Du Nann Winter, Marc Pilisuk, Sara Houck, and Matthew Lee

13

Globalism and Structural Violence
Marc Pilisuk

149

14

Human Rights Violations as Structural Violence

158

M. Brinton Lykes

139

v

Contents

III

SECTION

PEACEMAKING

169

Richard V. Wagner

15

U.N. Peacekeeping: Confronting the Psychological Environment
of War in the Twenty-first Century
Haroey J Langholtz and Peter Leentjes

16

The Cultural Context of Peacemaking
Paul B. Pedersen

183

17

Conflict Resolution: Theoretical and Practical Issues
Ann Sanson and Di Bretherton

193

18

Crafting Peace: On the Psychology of the TRANSCEND Approach
Johan Galtung and Finn Tschudi

210

19

Introducing Cooperation and Conflict Resolution into Schools:
A Systems Approach
Peter Coleman and MO'Tton Deutsch

223

20

Reducing Trauma During Ethno-Political Conflict: A Personal
Account of Psycho-social Work under War Conditions in Bosnia
Inger Aggt'I'

240

21

Reconciliation in Divided Societies
Cheryl de la Rey

22

Psychosocial Interventions and Post-War Reconstruction
in Angola: Interweaving Western and Traditional Approaches
Michael Wessell! and Carlinda Monteiro

SECTION

IV

23

PEACEBUILDING: APPROACHES
TO SOCIAL JUSTICE
DanielJ Christie
Toward a Psychology of Structural Peacebuilding
Cristina Jayme Montiel

173

251

262

277
282

Contents

vi

24

Psychologies for Liberation: Views from Elsewhere
Andy Dawes

295

25

Gandhi as Peacebuilder: The Social Psychology of Satyagraha
Daniel M. Mayton II

307

26

Peacebuilding and Nonviolence: Gandhi's Perspective on Power
Manfred B. Steger

314

27

Giving Voice to Children's Perspectives on Peace
llse Hakvoort and Solveig Hiigglund

324

28

Redressing Structural Violence against Children:
Empowerment-based Interventions and Research
Linda Webster and Douglas B. Perkins

29

Gendering Peacebuilding
Susan Mc&y and Dyan Mazurana

30

Psychologists Making a Difference in the Public Arena:
Building Cultures of Peace
Michael Wessells, Milton Schwebe~ and Anne AndCl'son
Conclusion: Peace Psychology for the Twenty-first Century
Deborah Du Nann Winter, DanielJ Christie,
IUchard V. Wagner, and Laura B. Boston

References
Index

417

373

330

341

350

363

FOREWORD

Unlike much trendy writing that has been cashing in on the change of centuries and millennia, this splendid book very appropriately links its treatment of peace psychology to the special date of its issue. The threats and opportunities presented to a psychology of peace, conflict, and violence are so radically different in the twenty-first century than they were until the
very last decade of the bloody twentieth century. Responding to the new challenges, the editors and authors present a reconceptualization of peace psychology as a field of research and
practical intervention, filled out with contributions that represent the best ongoing work. This
book unquestionably becomes the best single resource for psychologists, students, other social
scientists, and concerned citizens to tum to for orientation to psychology's present and potential involvement in these important matters. I see it as giving enduring shape to the field.
In the second half of the twentieth century, the top priority for people concerned with
war and peace was preventing the catastrophe of nuclear war between the giant nuclear powers around which world politics were polarized. Ralph White, the stalwart elder statesman of
peace psychology, edited a fine book, Psychology and the Prl!Vention of Nuclear War (New York
University Press, 1986), which brought together a representative selection of the best psychological thought on the topic. Since I wrote the Foreword to that volume, I am keenly aware
how greatly the present book contrasts in conception. My thinking was shaped by the intellectual climate of the Cold War era, of which I am a survivor. It may be useful to readers of the
present book for me to comment briefly on matters about which its editors and authors have
really changed my thinking.
At a time when embarrassingly few psychologists saw fit to give priority to what seemed to
them to be a matter of sheer world survival, I regarded it as a distraction to include the
agenda of social justice under the same banner as avoidance of nuclear war. I thought that
Psychologists for Social Responsibility, in which I was active, ought to concentrate its efforts
on mobilizing psychologists to the absolutely critical issue of survival~specially since I had
come to think they would use any excuse to avoid attending to the prospect of nuclear annihilation-an avoidance resulting from well-learned helplessness. So I did not warm to Johan
Galtung's proposal (which plays a major role in the conceptualization developed here) to
refer to the various forms of social injustice that harm people as "structural violence," thereby
pairing structural violence with direct violence as social evils to be combated. I had a strong

vii

viii

Foreword

continuing commitment to the struggle against injustice, but thought the distinction between
direct violence and social injustice conceptually and politically important. It even seemed to
me that the idea of structural violence was a kind of rhetorical tactic to get people more concerned with injustice-a worthy objective but one that sets the wrong priorities when the likelihood of nuclear catastrophe was so great.
But the Cold War ended more than a decade ago, and although the risks of nuclear war remain so long as enormously destructive nuclear armament is stockpiled, the avoidance of nuclear war is no longer the preemptive issue. And the violence characterizing our post-Cold War
era is not primarily between nation states engaged in the anarchic power plays of Realpolitik; it
is increasingly between ethnic or religious groups, often within nation-states. In this new situation, I find the four-fold scheme on which this book is organized very appropriate.
In their brilliant introductory chapter, which also gives a sound review of the history of
Peace Psychology in the Cold War era, Christie, Wagner, and Winter pull together much
emerging consensus in their four categories. There is direct violence and structural violence,
in the sense of Galtung's distinction. And there are ways of stopping or preventing violence:
peace-making including conflict resolution in the case of direct violence, peacebuilding in
that of structural violence. Since direct violence at both the individual and group levels gets
instigated or augmented by the thwarting of human needs (yes, there is something to the old
frustration-aggression hypothesis), the link between peacebuilding and social justice is explicitlyargued. The merit of the scheme is especially clear in the authors' call for a systems orientation in which the reciprocal influence of direct and structural violence is recognized.
The chapters deal with conflict and violence at the interpersonal and intergender as well
as intergroup and interstate levels, affording valuable perspectives on such currently active research areas as child and spousal abuse. The editors properly note that whether conflict and
violence at different levels follow similar patterns of relationship and respond to similar interventions is a questions for empirical research.
The book's emphasis on peacebuilding and social justice will inherently make it controversial. Research on structural violence and social justice, let alone activism in the promotion
of social justice, inherently challenges the status quo, in which injustice is structurally embedded. So be it. If psychologists are to involve themselves in the attempt to reduce the human
carnage that follows from urban destitution or poverty in what we used to call the "Third
World," they are likely to find themselves in the intellectual company of emancipatory radicals
like Paolo Friere or Ignacio Martin-Bara.
The general direction of the book's marshalling of current knowledge and wisdom, as I
sense it, does not support Utopian expectations of a final solution for the human problems of
conflict and violence, expectations so often shattered in the past. I see the prospect of an empirically grounded Peace Psychology with an activist wing, which can contribute substantially
to the never-ending effort to keep the human world livable for human beings. This book
makes a large contribution to the identity of such a discipline.
M. Bmuster Smith
Santa Cruz, California

PREFACE

Psychologists have been interested in psychological aspects of war and peace since the beginning o( modern psychology. Early in the twentieth century, William James challenged the
overly simplistic and misguided view that war was an inevitable result of human nature (James,
1910). He also cautioned about the allure of the military in the military-industrial-university
complex. Military sernce emphasizes duty, conformity, loyalty, and cohesion, virtues that are
likely to attract well meaning conscripts unless suitable civic substitutes are found. It seems appropriate that Morton Deutsch (1995) referred to William James as the first peace psychologist in an article that appeared in the first issue of Peace and Conflia: Journal of Peace Psychology.
Peace psychology as a distinct area of psychology did not begin to emerge clearly until the
latter half of the twentieth century, when the United States and Soviet Union were locked in a
nuclear arms race that had compelling psychological features and threatened the surnval of
humankind. The nuclear threat peaked in the mid-1980s, igniting a counter-reaction by a
generation of psychologists who began to identify themselves as peace psychologists. These
psychologists were trained in traditional areas of psychology, typically, social, developmental,
cognitive, clinical, and counseling psychology, and they were eager to apply concepts and theories that held the promise of preventing a nuclear conflagration.
Two events helped to establish the legitimacy and value of peace psychology. In 1986,
Ralph K. White published an important volume on "Psychology and the Prevention of Nuclear War" which helped identify some of the content of peace psychology. The destructive
consequences of mutual enemy images was focal in the book and approaches to peace emphasized tension reduction strategies. In 1990, institutional support was forthcoming when the
American Psychological Association recognized a new division, the Division of Peace Psychology (Division 48).
As the Soviet Union began to unravel, leaving only one superpower in the world that
could claim economic and military supremacy, the threat of nuclear war seemed greatly diminished, at least from the perspective of scholars in the United States. Nonetheless, the Cold
War left in place institutions and professional affiliations that supported research and practice
aimed at the reduction of violence and the promotion of peace. The general contours that
would form the content of peace psychology were becoming clear as peace psychologists

ix

x

Preface

turned their scholarly tools toward an examination of the psychological dimensions of the
continuing and ubiquitous problems of peace, conflict, and violence.
Our purpose in editing this volume is to bring together in one place international perspectives on key concepts, themes, theories, and practices that are defining peace psychology
as we begin the twenty-first century. We share with our international colleagues a broad vision
of peace psychology, covering a wide range of topics such as ethnic conflict, family violence,
hate crimes, militarism, conflict management, social justice, nonviolent approaches to peace,
and peace education. In addition to providing a useful resource that integrates current research and practices for scholars and practitioners, we wanted the book to be accessible
enough to introduce a new generation of students, both graduate and upper-division undergraduate, to the field. When organizing the topics in the book, we have tried to capture the
four main currents in peace psychology: (1) violence, (2) social inequalities, (3) peacemaking, and (4) the pursuit of social justice.
In the first section of the book, contributors examine violence at various levels of analysis,
from the micro to the macro, reflecting the wide range of interests in peace psychology. For
example, at the micro level, we examine violence in intimate relationships. At the macro level,
we consider nationalism and interstate war. At intermediate levels, we include violence against
gays and lesbians, and various forms of intergroup violence. We draw a sharp distinction between conflict and violence, emphasizing the distinction between thought and action. Conflicting viewpoints are not inevitably linked with violence and may even lead to constructive
conflict resolution.
In the second section of the book, we distinguish direct violence from structural violence: direct violence refers to events that harm or kill individuals or groups as contrasted
with structural violence which is manifest in social inequalities. In structural violence, hierarchical relations within and between societies privilege those who are on top while oppressing, exploiting and dominating those who occupy the bottom. Like direct violence, structural violence also kills people but does so slowly, by depriving people of basic necessities.
There are important psychological reasons why people tolerate and rationalize structural violence and we identify some of these reasons in this volume. We examine structural violence within societies but also include in our analysis the problem of militarization, which
contributes to structural violence globally, most often depriving those with the fewest resources, usually women, children and indigenous people. The organization of the book reflects our bias that violence is best understood from a systems perspective with overt forms
of violence manifest in micro and macro contexts, and conditioned by structural and cultural configurations.
While the first half of the book deals with systems of violence and links direct and structural forms of violence, the second half examines systems of peace. In the third section of the
book, we examine peacekeeping and peacemaking, both of which are methods that are designed to stop or prevent direct violence. The section on peacemaking emphasizes positive approaches to peace in which rules for cooperating are added to the repertoire of adversaries in
a conflict situation and conflict resolution is achieved when the adversaries arrive at mutually
agreeable outcomes. In nearly all the chapters on peacemaking, the authors emphasize the
importance of being sensitive to cultural differences.
In the fourth section on peacebuilding, the authors present psychologically informed approaches to social justice that are designed to reduce structural violence. Structural peace-

Preface

xi

building matters to peace psychologists because the roots of direct violence can often be
traced to structure-based inequalities. Accordingly, chapters in the fourth section identify psychological concepts and processes involved in the nonviolent pursuit of socially just ends.
Taken together, the sections on peacemaking and structural peacebuilding offer a roadmap
for peace psychologists who are dedicated to theory and practices that promote peace with s(}cial justice.

DanielJ Christie
Richard V. Wagner
Deborah Du Nann Winter

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

No book emerges singlehandedly, but this one rests on the creativity and hard work of more
people than most volumes we've seen. First, we owe hearty thanks to our 44 authors who
worked tirelessly through many drafts, and sometimes against impossible deadlines to submit
material when we needed it. Special thanks to Mike Wessells, who recommended many of the
authors and helped shape the content of this volume. Also, thanks are due to two "pros" who
helped with rewriting-Maria Boza and Nancy Maclean-and to Paula Brown, without whose
expertise and hard work half the book would never have made it out of Lewiston, Maine.
Most importantly, we want to thank our students, who teach us more than they know, and
whose insightful comments over the years helped clarify important concepts and streams of
ideas; they include Dan Christie's students at The Ohio State University, Marion Campus:Jennifer Swain, David Boyer, Barbara Stickel, Paula Burnside, Kay Hendricks, P J. Mullins, Tricia
Murphy, Peter Bermudez, Tracy Miley, Stefanie Stoner, Katrina Cortolillo, Leigh Anne Doyle,
Shirley Saksa, Christina Sisson, Curtis Tuggle, and classes in psychology and international
studies that field-tested parts of the book; Dick Wagner's students at Bates College: Jonathan
Horowitz, and "Chile 96" and "Chile 98"; and Deborah Winter's students at Whitman College,
who helped enormously on earlier drafts of the manuscript: Laura Boston, Sara Houck, Dana
Leighton, Matthew Lee, Afifa Ahmid, Heather Waite, Anne McCullough, Lisa Okuma, Megan
Hekelwrath, Calon Russell, Mariah Lebwohl, Sarah Alexander, Marianne Brady, and Nikki
Addison.
Many eminent scholars provided the groundwork on which this volume builds. Perhaps
the first was William James, but no less important are the many people whose work during the
Cold War period inspired and guided the first generation of peace psychologists, including
Ralph K. White, Herbert Kelman, Morton Deutsch, Charles Osgood, Irving Janis, Jerome
Frank, Urie Bronfenbrenner, Thomas Milburn, and political scientists Robert Jervis, Ned
Lebow, andJohan Galtung. We are especially grateful to the late Jeffrey Rubin for encouraging collaborative publication in the field. And we honor the feminist scholars who have enriched our analyses: Ethel Tobach, Betty Reardon, Elise Boulding, Birgit Brock-Vtne, Cynthia
Enloe, and Susan McKay.
Others helped put the field of peace psychology on the political and scholarly map with
their tireless work both in publication and in political arenas. We owe special appreciation to

xiii

xiv

Acknowledgments

M. Brewster Smith for his brilliant work in helping the Division of Peace Psychology become a
new division of the American Psychological Association in 1990. We offer particular thanks to
Milt Schwebel for his work in founding the Division's journal: Peace and Conflict: Journal of
Peace Psychology, and for serving as its gracious first editor. And we are indebted to our international colleagues, particularly Andy Dawes (South Africa), Di Bretherton and Ann Sanson
(Australia), and Abelardo Brenes (Costa Rica) who have hosted biennial meetings on the
Contributions of Psychology to Peace under the auspices of the Union of Psychological Sciences. These forums have facilitated collaborative linkages and broadened the field of peace
psychology immeasurably.
All proceeds are donated to The Society for the Psychological Study of Peace, Conflict,
and Violence: Division of Peace Psychology of the American Psychological Association.

CONTRIBUTORS

NAOMI ABRAHAMS is Chair of the Department of Sociology at Mount Hood Community
College in Portland, Oregon. She received her Ph.D. in Sociology from the University of California, Santa Barbara. She is the author of numerous articles on gender and power relations
in families, communities, and politics. Her current areas of research include: community responses to domestic violence, domestic violence and the courts, and gender and ethnic inequality in welfare reform.
INGER AGGER is Associate Research Professor of Psychology at the University of Copenhagen where she also received her Ph.D. in cultural sociology. She is the author of The Blue
/Worn: Trauma and Testimony among Refugee Women (1994), and Trauma and Healing underState
Terrorism (with Soeren Buus jensen) (1996), as well as numerous articles and book chapters
on the psychology of human rights violations. She has done research in Latin America and
Mrica, and served as European Union coordinator for psychosocial projects from 1993 to
1996 in the Balkans during the war.
ANNE ANDERSON has been National Coordinator of Psychologists for Social Responsibility
since 1984. She has been a feminist therapist since 1972, joining the Washington Therapy
Guild in 1976. She also works with seriously emotionally disturbed children and their families
at the Episcopal Center for Children. She is part of an International Technical Assistance
Group for Christian Children's Fund, whose mission is to integrate psychosocial perspectives
into the traditional community-building work of CCF. She has been a civil rights, women's
rights, and peace activist for much of her life.
LAURA BOSTON graduated with Honors in Psychology from Whitman College in 1999, and
is a graduate student at Colorado State University.
DI BRETHERTON is Director of the International Conflict Resolution Centre at the University of Melbourne, in Australia, where she offers courses and supervises research in the Psychology Department. She has worked on conflict management projects in a number of countries, including Vietnam, Sri Lanka and the Philippines. During 1998 to 2000 she worked with
UNESCO in Paris to help plan and implement the International Year for a Culture of Peace.

xvi

Contributors

She is Chair of the Committee for the Psychological Study of Peace of the International
Union of Psychological Science and President Elect of the Division of Political Psychology of
the International Association of Applied Psychology.
MICHAEL BRITION is a psychologist and practicing psychotherapist, consultant to the Social Security Disability Determinations Services in New Jersey, co-founder of NJ Psychologists
for Social Responsibility, a member of the Academy of Registered Dance Therapists and former Board member of the American Dance Therapy Association. He has done interview research with retired military officers who served during the Cold War nuclear arms buildup,
and research on kinds of parental love that enable children to grow up and be successful in
love.
ED CAIRNS teaches psychology at the University of Ulster and has been a visiting scholar at
the Universities ofF1orida, Cape Town, and Melbourne. Most of his work has investigated the
psychological aspects of the conflict in Northern Ireland. He is a Fellow of the British Psychological Society and a member of the Division of Peace Psychology of the American Psychological Association.
DANIEL]. CHRISTIE is Professor of Psychology at Ohio State University. He is a former president of the Division of Peace Psychology of the American Psychological Association, and
serves on the editorial board of its journal. His research explores children's perceptions of violence, models of intercultural sensitivity, and structural peacebuilding. He teaches courses in
psychology and international studies at the OSU Marion campus, has served as president of
Psychologists for Social Responsibility, and does applied work on local and international programs that enhance the educational and economic opportunities of minority and indigenous
ethnic groups.
PETER T. COLEMAN holds a Ph.D. in social/organizational psychology from Teachers College, Columbia University. He is an Assistant Professor of Psychology and Education and Director of the International Center for Cooperation and Conflict Resolution at Teachers College. He currently conducts theoretical and applied research on conflict resolution training,
conflict resolution and difference, intractable conflict, and on the conditions for the constructive use of social power. His most recent publication is The Handbook of Conflict Resolution: Themy and Practice, co-edited with Morton Deutsch.
LUCIAN GIDEON CONWAY III is a doctoral student at the University of British Columbia.
He has a broad range of research interests, including the emergence and change of culturallyshared beliefs (especially stereotypes), the psychology of political leaders, and anything relevant to cognitive complexity. He has authored or co-authored seven articles, comments, and
book chapters on these and other topics. He has recently been awarded an Izaak Walton Killam Memorial Pre-Doctoral Fellowship to support his doctoral research.
ANDY DAWES is an Associate Professor in the Department of Psychology at the University of
Cape Town, where he teaches developmental and clinical psychology. He has studied the impact of war and other forms of violence on children and adolescents, and has investigated the
effects of South Mrica's political transition on levels of intergroup tolerance among young
people. He also has an interest in the promotion of tolerance among young people in newly
democratized societies.

Contributors

xvii

CHERYL DE LA REV is a Senior Lecturer in the Department of Psychology at the University of
Cape Town, where she obtained her Ph.D. She is on the editorial boards of the South African
Journal oj Psychology and Agenda, and is a member of the International Advisory Group of the
journal Feminism and Psychology. Her research and publications cover issues of gender, race,
and social policy. Recently she has worked on a project on women and peacebuilding in
South Mrica in collaboration with Susan McKay.
MORTON DEUTSCH is E.L. Thorndike Professor Emeritus at Teachers College, Columbia
University. He is well-known for his pioneering research on cooperation-competition, intergroup relations, conflict resolution, and social justice. His work has been honored by many
prizes and awards as well as by election to the presidency of various psychological societies.
His most recent book is The Handbook oj Conflict Resolution: Theory and Practice, co-edited with
Peter Coleman.
DANIEL DRUCKMAN is Professor of Conflict Resolution at George Mason University's Institute for Conflict Analysis and Resolution, where he also coordinates the doctoral program. He
has published widely on such topics as nationalism, negotiating behavior, peacekeeping, political stability, nonverbal communication, and modeling methodologies, including simulation.
He received the 1995 Otto Klineberg award for Intercultural and International Relations from
the Society for the Psychological Study of Social Issues for his work on nationalism, and a
Teaching Excellence award in 1998 from George Mason University.
JORAN GALTUNG, Professor of Peace Studies and Director of TRANSCEND, a peace and
development network, has tried to work for peace along two parallel tracks. One is as a researcher, author of 85 books, and teacher in 50 countries; another is as a conflict worker in
more than 40 conflicts. His nomadic life has brought him to most of the world's countries,
and he is now "at home" with his Japanese wife, Fumiko Nishimura, herself a researcher, in
five of them: Japan, the United States, France, Spain, and Norway.
JAlVIES GARBARINO is Co-Director of the Family Development Center and Elizabeth Lee
Vincent Professor of Human Development at Cornell University. Prior to his current position,
he served as President of the Erikson Institute for Advanced Study in Child Development
(1985-1994). He has authored numerous books including Lost Boys: Why Our Sons Turn Violent
and How We Can Save Them (1999), Raising Children in a Socially Toxic Environment (1995), and
Let's Talk About Living in a World with Violence (1993). His awards include the American Psychological Association's Award for Distinguished Professional Contributions to Public Service.
SOLVEIG HAGGLUND is Associate Professor of Education and Vice Dean of the Faculty of
Education at GOteborg University, Sweden. Her research focuses on socialization, development, and learning in different settings. She has conducted studies on gender socialization,
prosocial development, and social responsibility in preschool and school settings. Recent research concerns social inclusion and exclusion in formal educational settings. She teaches
post-graduate courses in socialization theories, children's rights and realities, and human
ecology. She is co-director of the CrosHultural Research Programme on Children and Peace.
ILSE HAKVOORT is a Visiting Scientist in the Department of Educatio;l at Goteborg University, Sweden, with a postdoctoral stipendium from STINT (Swedish Foundation for International Cooperation in Research and Higher Education). She is co-coordinator of the Cross-

xviii

Contributors

cultural Research Programme on Children and Peace since its establishment in 1996. Her research interests focus on the development of children's conceptualization of peace and war,
learning and development in different socio-cultural contexts, peace education, and storytelling. She is involved in courses on conflict resolution and communication.
SARA HOUCK graduated with Honors in Psychology from Whitman College in 1999.
KATHLEEN KOSTELNY is Senior Research Associate and Director of the Project on Children
and Violence at the Erikson Institute in Chicago. Her work has taken her to war zones and
areas of political conflict including Mozambique, Angola, Nicaragua, the West Bank and Gaza
Strip, Cambodia, Kosovo, and East Timor, as well as communities struggling with violence in
the United States. She is the co-author of Children in Danger: Coping with the Consequences of Community Violence (1991) and No Place to Be a Child: Growing Up in a War Zone (1992). She is the recipient offellowships from the Kellogg National Leadership Program and the Fetzer Institute.
HARVEY LANGHOLTZ is an Associate Professor of Psychology at the College of William &
Mary and is the Founding Director of the United Nations Institute for Training and Research
Programme of Correspondence Instruction in Peacekeeping Operations. He has authored or
edited twelve books, among these The Psychology of Peacekeeping, Principles for the Conduct of Peace
Support operations, and International Humanitarian Law and the Law of War. He is on the Executive Committee of the Division of Peace Psychology of the American Psychological Association.
MATTHEW LEE graduated from Whitman College in 1999.
PETER LEENTJES was born in the Netherlands and emigrated to Canada as a young boy. He
served a career in the Canadian Anned Forces in peacekeeping, humanitarian operations,
and training. Deployments included peacekeeping in Cyprus, exchange with the French Cavalry, Commandant of Canada's Annour School, and a tour in Bosnia-Herzegovina setting up
military relief operations as Chief of Staff Operations. In 1995, he was appointed Chief of
Training for the United Nations Department of Peacekeeping Operations. In 1999 he retired
from the Canadian Anned Forces and assumed his current position with the U.S. Anny Center of Excellence in Disaster Management and Humanitarian Assistance.
DANA LEIGHTON is an undergraduate Psychology Major at Whitman College.
M. BRINTON LYKES is Professor of Community/Social Psychology at the University of the
Witwatersrand inJohannesburg, South Mrica, and is on leave from the School of Education at
Boston College. Her participatory action research explores the interstices of indigenous cultural beliefs and practices and those of Western psychology, towards creating communitybased responses to the effects of war and state-sponsored violence. She is co-author/editor of
four books, including Myths about the Powerless: Contesting Social Inequalities (1996) and Trauma
psicosocial y adolescentes Latinoamericanos: Formas de accion grupal (1994).
DANIEL M. MAYTON II is Professor of Psychology at Lewis-Clark State College in Lewiston,
Idaho, where he has taught for 24 years. For the past decade-and-a-half he has taught courses
on nuclear war, peace, and nonviolence and has published research on nuclear war attitudes,
nonviolent predispositions, and the value underpinnings of activism and nonviolence. He is a
member of the editorial board of Peace and Conflict:journal of Peace Psychology.

Contributors

xix

DYAN ELLEN MAZURANA is a Research Associate and Adjunct Assistant Professor in
Women's Studies and International Studies at the University of Wyoming in Laramie. In the
fall of 2000, she joined the faculty of Women's Studies at the University of Montana, Missoula.
She is co-author of Women and Peacebuilding (1999), as well as several articles on women,
peacebuilding, and armed conflict. Her latest work includes training U.N. peacekeepers and
research on the gendered experiences of child soldiers.
SUSAN MCKAY is Professor of Nursing, Women's Studies, and International Studies at the
University of Wyoming and is a psychologist in private practice. She is past president of the Division of Peace Psychology of the American Psychological Association and an editorial board
member of Peace and Conflict: Journal of Peace Psychology. In collaboration with Dyan Mazurana,
her current research focuses upon gender and peace building. Other recent scholarship has
explored the relationship between gender and peace psychology.
CARLINDA MONTEIRO is an Angolan social worker who serves as Regional Technical Advisor for Christian Children's Fund. In Angola, she has developed training curricula and oversees psychosocial projects in multiple Angolan provinces that build resilience, assist youth and
displaced children and families, and link health and psychosocial well-being. She often advises
UNICEF and the Angolan Government on psychosocial programming for children affected by
violence and for former underage soldiers. Her research focuses on traditional healing, Bantu
cosmology, and ways of integrating Western and local approaches to assisting children and
families.
CRISTINAJAYME MONTIEL is Associate Professor of Psychology and Senior Fellow of the
Center for Social Policy and Public Affairs at the Ateneo de Manila University. She has published articles on political trauma, citizen-based peacemaking, bargaining for peaceful terminations of unsuccessful coup attempts, and attributional analysis of poverty. She received the
Outstanding Service Award from the Division of Peace Psychology of the American Psychological Association, and the Distinguished Contribution Award from Psychologists for Social Responsibility. During the Marcos dictatorship, she chaired Lingap Bilanggo (Care for Prisoners) ,
a movement for political prisoners' general amnesty.
BIANCA CODY MURPHY is Professor of Psychology and currendy holds the Dorothy Reed
Williams Chair in the Social Sciences at Wheaton College in Massachusetts. She has published
articles about peace education, atomic veterans, families exposed to environmental toxins,
and clinical issues with women, and lesbian and gay clients. She is the co-author of Intervil!Wing
in Action: Process and Practice. She is a past president of Psychologists for Social Responsibility
and is the current Chair of the Board for the Advancement of Psychology in the Public Interest of the American Psychological Association. She is a licensed psychologist practicing with
Newton Psychotherapy Associates.
ULRIKE NIENS is a graduate of the Free University of Berlin in Germany. She is currently
pursuing a doctorate in Psychology at the University of Ulster in Northern Ireland. She has
done fieldwork on ethnopolitical conflict in both Northern Ireland and South Africa. Her research interests revolve around broad social science perspectives on social change and social
identity theory.

xx

Contributors

SUSAN OPOTOW is Associate Professor in the Graduate Programs in Dispute Resolution at
the University of Massachusetts, Boston. Her scholarship addresses the psychology of injustice
and conflict. Her research examines moral exclusion in everyday life, predominantly in environmental and school contexts, in order to gain insight into the social psychological factors
fostering more virulent, widespread moral exclusion in state-sponsored violence, torture, and
genocide. She has edited two issues ofJournal of Social Issuer-"Moral Exclusion and Injustice"
(1990), and "Green Justice: Conceptions of Fairness and the Natural World" (1994, co-edited
with Susan Clayton).
PAUL PEDERSEN is Professor at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. He was a visiting
faculty member for six years at universities in Indonesia, Malaysia, and Taiwan. He was a Senior Fellow at the East West Center for four years and a Senior Fulbright Scholar in Taiwan
for one year. He has written 35 books, 62 chapters, and 92journal articles, mostly on multicultural counseling and communication. He is particularly interested in reframing conflict into
cultural categories and learning more about how conflict is managed across cultures.
DOUGLAS PERKINS is Associate Professor of Family and Consumer St!ldies at the University
of Utah, and a Fellow of the Society for Community Research and Action. His research and
service-learning courses focus on community and environmental psychology applications to
citizen participation and empowerment, neighborhood revitalization, crime and fear, prevention programs for youth, housing, and urban land use. Much of his community service focuses
on state and local advocacy and planning for affordable housing.
MARC PIUSUK is a Professor of Psychology and Human Sciences at the Saybrook Graduate
School and Research Center. He is the author of six books, including The Healing Web: Social
Networks and Human Suroival (with Susan Hillier Parks, 1986), as well as over 120 articles. He
has served as President of the Division of Peace Psychology of the American Psychological Association and currently serves on the board of its journal, Peace and ConJ7ict: Journal ofPeace Psychology, as well as on the National Steering Committee of Psychologists for Social Responsibility.
ANN SANSON is an Associate Professor in Psychology at the University of Melbourne. Her
teaching and research cover developmental psychology and conflict and its resolution.
Among her publications, she has guest-edited two issues of the Australian Psychologist-"Psychology of Peace and Conflict" (July 1993), and "Psychology and Indigenous Issues" (July
2000). She is a member of the Committee for the Psychological Study of Peace, and has held
positions as convenor of Psychologists for the Promotion of World Peace, and Director of Social Issues of the Australian Psychological Society. She is currently a Principal Research Fellow
at the Australian Institute of Family Studies.
MILTON SCHWEBEL, a clinical!counseling psychologist, is Professor Emeritus of Psychology
at the Graduate School of Applied and Professional Psychology and former Dean of the Graduate School of Education, Rutgers University. He is former president of Psychologists for Social Responsibility and current editor of Peace and Conflict: Journal of Peace Psychology. Among
his many books, as author or editor, are Behavioral Science and Human Suroiva~ and a forthcoming book on educational policy and structural violence.
ERVIN STAUB is Professor of Psychology at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst. His primary areas of work have been on altruism and helping behavior in children and adults and on

Contributors

xxi

harmdoing, especially genocide and other collective violence. His books include a two-volume
treatise, Positive Social Behavior, and The Roots ofEvil: The Origins of Genocide and Other Group Vier
lence. He also edited and co-edited a number of volumes, the most recent in 1997: Patriotism in
the Lives of IndividuaLr and Groups. He served as president of the Division of Peace Psychology
of the American Psychological Association from 1999 to 2000.
lVIANFRED B. STEGER is Associate Professor of Political Theory at Illinois State University.
Recent publications include: The QJ.test for Evolutionary Socialism: Eduard Bernstein and Social

Democracy (1997), Engels After Marx (1999), Nonviolence and Its Alternatives: An Interdisciplinary
Reader (1999), and Gandhi's Dilemma: Nonviolent Principles and Nationalist Power (2000). He is
currently working on a book titled Globalism: The New Market Ideology (forthcoming 2001).
PETER SUEDFELD taught at the University of Illinois and Rutgers University before becoming Head of the Department of Psychology and later, Dean of Graduate Studies at the University of British Columbia. His research focuses on coping and adaptability in challenging environments. He is the author or editor of eight books and over 200 journal articles and book
ch~pters. He is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Canada and the American and Canadian Psychological Associations. He has served as President of the latter, and in 1996 received its Donald O. Hebb Award for distinguished contributions to psychology as a science.
PHILIP E. TETLOCK is Harold Burtt Professor of Psychology and Political Science at the
Ohio State University. He received his Ph.D. in Social Psychology from Yale University in 1979
and was Professor of Psychology at the University of California, Berkeley between 1979 and
1995. He has received scientific awards from the National Academy of Sciences, the American
Association for the Advancement of Science, the American Psychological Society, the American Political Science Association, and the International Society for Political Psychology. His
current research focuses on criteria people use to evaluate the quality ofjudgment and choice
in various spheres of life.
FINN TSCHUDI has recently retired from his position as Professor of Psychology at the University of Oslo, Norway, where he taught for 36 years. While primarily responsible for methodology, he has also been teaching and publishing in the fields of personality and cognitive and
social psychology. As a consultant to the Conflict Council in Oslo, he is helping to introduce
models for conflict transformation from Australia. He is also working to perfect computer
programs for studying homo/heterogeneity in how different groups of people construe social
and personal issues.
RICHARD V. WAGNER has been Professor of Psychology at Bates College in Lewiston, Maine
since 1970. He received his Ph.D. in social psychology from the University of Michigan. He is a
past president of the Division of Peace Psychology of the American Psychological Association,
and is incoming editor (2001-) of Peace and Conflict: Journal of Peace Psychology. His current interests include political psychology and conflict resolution, and he is a mediator for the court
system in Maine.
LINDA WEBSTER is an Assistant Professor at the University of the Pacific in Stockton, California, where she is the director of the school psychology program. Her research has focused on
child maltreatment and attachment, and addresses systemic change for these children and

xxii

Contributors

their families. She also maintains a private practice with her husband which provides services
to children and families in poverty.
MICHAEL G. WESSELLS is Professor of Psychology at Randolph-Macon College and Psychosocial Advisor for Christian Children's Fund. He has served as President of the Division of
Peace Psychology of the American Psychological Association and of Psychologists for Social
Responsibility. His research examines the psychology of humanitarian assistance, post-conflict
reconstruction, and the reintegration of former child soldiers. In countries such as Angola,
Sierra Leone, East Timor, and Kosovo, he helps to plan, evaluate, and train in communitybased, culturally grounded, holistic programs that assist children, families, and communities
affected by armed conflict.
DEBORAH DU NANN WINTER is Professor of Psychology at Whitman College in Walla
Walla, Washington, where she has taught for 26 years. She is the author of Ecological Psychology:
Healing the Split Between Planet and Self (1996) as well as numerous articles on the psychology of
peace and environmental issues. She serves as President of Psychologists for Social Responsibility, and is on the Editorial Board of Peace and Conflict: Journal ofPeace P!fJchology.

INTRODUCTION TO PEACE PSYCHOLOGY
Daniel J. Christie, Richard V. Wagner,
and Deborah Du Nann Winter

I urge you to beware the temptation . .. of blithely declaring yourselves above it all and label both sides [United
States and Soviet UnionJ equally at fault, to igntm the facts of history and the aggressive impulses of an evil
empire, to simply caU the arms race a giant misunderstanding and thereby remove yourselffrom the struggle ~
tween right and wrong and good and evil. . . [The Soviet LeadersJ are the focus of evil in the modem wurld
(Ronald Reagan, 1983, pp. 363-364).

What became known as the "Evil Empire Speech" reflected the sentiment of many people in
the United States during the 1980s. The United States and Soviet Union were locked into a
Cold War, a contest for global power and military advantage (Lippmann, 1947). Both sides exchanged heated rhetoric, amassed weapons, and instilled fear in one another. Shortly after
Reagan's "Evil Empire Speech," survey research registered a peak in anti-Soviet sentiments by
U.S. citizens (Yatani & Bramel, 1989), and a peak in the level offear people reported in connection with the threat of nuclear war (Schatz & Fiske, 1992). Interviews with children in the
United States, Soviet Union, and other countries revealed widespread fear (Chivian et al.,
1985; Schwebel, 1982) and other reactions that could be categorized as hopelessness, powerlessness, and future1essness (Christie & Hanley, 1994).
Fear not only fuelled the nuclear arms race but also ignited the countervailing forces of
activists and scholars in psychology who sought ways to reduce the threat of a nuclear holocaust (White, 1986). The Cold War wound down with the collapse of the Soviet Union in the
late 1980s, but not before galvanizing a generation of psychologists who fonned the Division
of Peace Psychology within the American Psychological Association (Wessells, 1996), and
began to identify themselves as peace psychologists.
Although the emerging discipline of peace psychology is a product of the 1980s, throughout the twentieth century, psychologists have been interested in theory and practice related to
social conflict and violence. The level of interest has waxed and waned in parallel with the intensity of conflicts and threats faced by the United States (Morawski & Goldstein, 1985). Inter-

1

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Introduction to Peace Psychology

est among psychologists was especially high during the Cold War but also during the "hot
wars" of World War I and II.

PSYCHOLOGY'S ROLE IN WORLD WAR I AND II
The concerns of peace psychologists are deeply rooted in the field of psychology, not only because the promotion of human well-being is central to the mission of psychology (APA Bylaws
I.l, http://www.apa.org/about/mission.html) but also because psychologists have long been
concerned about war and peace. William James, a founder of psychology in the United States,
has been regarded as the first peace psychologist (Deutsch, 1995). Just prior to World War I,
James gave an address on "the moral equivalent of war" in which he highlighted the enthusiastic readiness of humans to rally around the military flag Games, 1995), a social psychological
phenomena akin to "nationalism" that has played out repeatedly for generations, especially
when relations between nations become hostile. James argued that militaristic urges are
deeply rooted in humans and that societies must learn to channel the satisfaction of their
needs in productive directions.
Psychologists did not follow James' advice, but they did become involved in U.S. military
affairs during the First World War. Among the more important contributions of psychologists
to the war effort was the development of group intelligence tests that were used to select and
classify new recruits, a development that "put psychology on the map" (Smith, 1986, p.24).
Psychologists had even greater involvement during the Second World War. A number of
specialties in psychology emerged and supported the war effort. Clinical psychologists developed and administered tests to place personnel within the military establishment and they
also treated war-related emotional problems. Social psychologists contributed their expertise, developing propaganda designed to promote the war effort by boosting morale at home and demoralizing the enemy abroad. A number of psychologists worked with the Office of Strategic
Services, the precursor of the Central Intelligence Agency, selecting and training people involved in "undercover" activities in Europe and the Far East. Human factors psychologists participated in the design of weaponry and other instruments used by the military, and experimental
psychologists trained nonhumans to perform human tasks. The best-known example of the latter was B. F. Skinner's research in which he trained pigeons to guide pilotless missiles to targets, a program that was ultimately discarded (Herman, 1995). In all these activities, psychologists were enthusiastic participants in the effort to win World War II, a war that was regarded
by most people as a just war.

PSYCHOLOGY'S ROLE IN THE COLD WAR
The ideology of Realpolitik has guided the conduct of foreign policy worldwide for nearly
three centuries (Klare & Chandrani, 1998). Realpolitik is the belief that politics is reducible to
three basic goals: keeping power, increasing power, and demonstrating power (Morganthau,
1972). The international politics of the United States was, and continues to be, primarily
guided by the ideology of Realpolitik. From a Realpolitik perspective, one sees security in the
international system as the balanced capacity among states to use coercive power. Furthermore, because it is assumed that all sovereign states seek to maximize their power, and they
operate within an international structure that is anarchical, the best way to ensure security is

Introduction to Peace Psychology

3

to be militarily strong and to adopt a policy of deterrence. According to the logic of deterrence,
each state can best ensure its security by threatening any would-be aggressor with a retaliatory
blow that would be unbearably costly to the aggressor. By the conclusion of World War II, a
tidy bipolar superpower arrangement had emerged in the world. The United States and S<r
viet Union were locked into an adversarial relationship in which they competed and concentrated their resources in an arms race, a Cold War that resulted in enormous stockpiles of conventional and nuclear weapons.
During the early years of the Cold War, psychologists continued to support the policies of
the U.S. government. Tensions between the United States and Soviet Union grew, as did the
arsenals of nuclear weapons that were aimed at each other. There were scattered attempts by
committees of the American Psychological Association (APA) and the Society for the Psych<r
logical Study of Social Issues (SPSSI) to analyze the implications of the new atomic warfare capability on future international relations, as well as the potential psychological effects on populations experiencing atomic bombardment. Generally, these early committees lacked focus
but agreed that the major psychological concern was citizens' attitudes toward atomic warfare
and energy. They "emphasized the need to accurately assess and control public opinion in
order to achieve public consensus regarding foreign relations and atomic war" (Morawski &
Goldstein, 1985, p. 278). On the whole, the public was quite supportive of government policies.
Although survey research indicated that Americans were well aware of the bomb, and expressed
little hope about the potential for international agencies to harness the spread of atomic energy
and bombs, very few Americans expressed worry or fear (Cottrell & Eberhart, 1948). The usual
psychological interpretation of the public's low level of concern in the face of the atomic threat
was that ordinary Americans felt helpless, relied on the authorities to deal with the problem, and
used a psychological defense that was called "fear suppression" (Harris, Proshansky, & Raskin,
1956). No one in the psychological community suggested that fear might be an appropriate response to the threat of nuclear annihilation (Morawski & Goldstein, 1985).
During the 1950s, a growing number of psychologists were employed as scientists and
practitioners by the federal government and the military. Psychologists used their expertise to
assess and change the public's attitudes toward atomic warfare, to deal with emotional problems experienced by persons exposed to atomic testing, and to reduce soldiers' fear and reluctance to participate in atomic maneuvers (Rand, 1960; Schwartz & Winograd, 1954). Although the activities of psychologists were many and varied, most psychologists shared the
common goal of preparing the country-civilians and military alike-for the anticipated nuclear confrontation with the Soviet Union.
The ideology of Realpolitik prevailed, despite the efforts of a few individuals within the
psychological establishment (such as Gordon Allport, Hadley Cantril, and Otto Klineberg)
who argued that the atomic age required a new form of diplomacy and the abolition of war
Uacobs, 1989). Policy makers were not particularly' receptive to the advice of psychologists, especially in matters of foreign policy. Besides, most psychologists in the post-World War II era
were preoccupied with the development of psychology as a profession and those who wanted
to speak out knew they would be putting themselves at professional risk. Marked by the
"McCarthy era," in which anyone opposed to government policy could be branded a communist and brutally punished, the U.S. political climate in the early 1950s was not conducive to
voices that opposed government policy.

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Introduction to Peace Psychology

In the late 1950s and early 1960s, however, several challenges to the Cold War mentality
and its embrace of Realpolitik emerged in the field of psychology. Important publications signaled an incipient shift from planning for war to proposing policies designed to promote the
chances for peace (Wagner, 1985). In 1957, TheJournal of Conflict Resolution began publishing
articles on conflict reduction in international relations. Another publication was a special
issue of the Journal of Social Issues, which was critical of the U.S. policy of nuclear deterrence
(Russell, 1961). Two edited volumes were particularly noteworthy: one by Wright, Evan, and
Deutsch (1962), Preventing World War Ill: Some Proposals, and another one by Schwebel (1965),
Behavioral Science and Human SuroivaL As Morawski and Goldstein (1985) assess the significance of these appearances:
First, the level of analysis was shifted from an exclusive focus on the behavior of individuals to a
more inclusive focus on the behavior of nations. Second, psychologists began to emphasize the prevention of war rather than preparations for war. And third, whereas previous research had attempted to document or generate public consensus with government policy, the new work was critical ofD.S. foreign policies. (p.280)

In other ways psychologists began breaking from the tradition of promoting government
policy. Instead of analyzing ways of ensuring that public opinion coincided with Realpolitik
considerations, Soviet citizens were humanized when interviews with them revealed that their
views of the United States were similar to the views that U.S. citizens had of them, forming a
mirror image of one another (Bronfenbrenner, 1961). At about the same time, some of the pioneers in peace psychology such as Jerome Frank and Ralph K White were articulating the
dangers of developing diabolical enemy images (Frank, 1967; White, 1966), which people tend to
create, especially when they feel threatened. Even deterrence, the centerpiece of U.S. foreign
policy, came under scrutiny as scholars noted the logical and empirical inconsistencies in the
policy (Milburn, 1961). The argument applies even today because there is no logical or empirical way to prove whether deterrence actually keeps an enemy from attacking. One can only
know when deterrence fails to deter an enemy.
Instead of analyzing methods of treating soldiers' resistance, Osgood (1962) proposed
Graduated and Reciprocated Initiatives in Tension-reduction (GRIT), a method of defusing
international tensions by having each side take turns at initiating tension-reducing actions.
Not unlike standing on the outer edges of a teeter-totter, both superpowers could move toward the center of the teeter-totter in small steps, taking turns all the way. There have been
suggestions that President Kennedy and Soviet Premier Khruschev drew from the GRIT
model back in the early 1960s when they took a series of initiatives that culminated in a nuclear arms control treaty (viz., the Limited Test Ban Treaty). Etzioni (1967) identified the
steps that were taken by both sides, and they neatly conformed to a GRIT pattern.
From the mid-1960s until the late 1970s, domestic concerns took precedence over international issues and U.S. psychologists gave less attention to the Cold War and the threat of nuclear war. Topics that appeared with some regularity in the American Psychologist and the Journal of Social Issues included student activism, population growth, changes in sex-roles, and a
range of problems related to race relations. Meanwhile, political scientists continued their
scholarship on war and peace. Looking at the world through a Realpolitik perspective, political scientists and those who specialized in international relations analyzed the Vietnam War,
casting the war in the bipolar East-West struggle in which the United States sought to contain

Introduction to Peace Psychology

5

the spread of communism. The policy of containing communism was driven by Domino Theory,
the belief that the fall of Vietnam to Soviet influence would make it likely that another
domino would fall, producing a chain reaction and ultimately leading to the spread of communism all over the world.
AI; the United States withdrew troops from the hot war in Vietnam, a second round of the
Cold War ensued. In lockstep, the superpowers enacted the well-known "security dilemma "with
one side's attempt to gain security through more military armaments threatening the other
side, which responded in tum by increasing its armaments. During the 1970s, the policy of deterrence was taken to the height of logical absurdity as the arms race backed both superpowers into a comer and stuck them with the reality of MAD, "mutually assured destruction."
Now, no one would begin a nuclear war, it was reasoned, because no one could win. Both
sides' excessive stockpiles of nuclear weapons meant that if an all-out nuclear war did occur,
the result would be not only the total destruction of the superpowers but an end to life as we
knew it.
In the early 1980s, public concern about the threat of nuclear war increased dramatically as the rhetoric grew more hostile on both sides and the U.S. government began to
openly discuss plans for achieving nuclear superiority and for waging and prevailing in a
protracted nuclear war (Scheer, 1982). Citizens' concern about nuclear war continued to
rise, especially in the United States and in Europe, as the U.S. Defense Department proposed to build a nuclear capability that would enable the United States to fight a range
of nuclear wars, from a limited strike to an all-out nuclear exchange (Holloran, Gelb, &
Raines, 1981). The threat of nuclear war loomed large, especially for Western Europeans
because the United States deployed "intermediate range missiles" on their soil and there
was talk in the Reagan administration about the possibility of keeping a nuclear war in Europe limited to tactical exchanges with the Soviet Union. A limited nuclear war would not
require the use of missiles from the U.S. strategic arsenal, thereby keeping the war at a distance from the U.S. mainland (Scheer, 1982). Not surprisingly, the increasing levels of tension and the escalation of the arms race activated peace movements in both the United
States and Europe.
AI; tensions peaked, reactions of the scientific community in psychology were varied.
Some social and behavioral scientists took policy positions (White, 1984), or advocated political activism (Nevin, 1985), while others cautioned that taking positions on such issues required extrapolating far beyond existing psychological knowledge (Tedock, 1986). A useful
analysis of the problem was offered by Deutsch (1983) who underscored the interdependence
of the United States and Soviet Union and made it clear that any attempt by one side to pursue security without regard for the security of the other side was self-defeating.
Despite the thoughtful analyses of some psychologists, psychological theory and practice
had litde if any influence on the course of the Cold War. From the perspective of policy makers, the Cold War was fundamentally an interstate problem, not an intrapsychic problem that
was amenable to psychological analyses. Instead, international relations specialists, steeped in
the tradition of Realpolitik, were called on as the experts who were best equipped to address
most of the scenarios that were likely to lead to a nuclear war.
In order to have credibility, psychologists who wanted to develop theory and practice related to the prevention of nuclear war had to begin by understanding and challenging a Realpolitik framework. Ralph K. White's (1986) edited volume, Psychology and the Prevention of

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Introduction to Peace Psychology

Nuclear War, provided a compendium of articles written by psychologists and political scientists who gave coherence to the perspectives of political psychologists and also added a measure of legitimacy to psychological analyses of the nuclear threat. Likely psychological and political antecedents of a nuclear holocaust were identified and elaborated upon. Emphasis was
placed on the problems of an unbridled arms race, mutually distorted perceptions, destructive communication patterns, coercive interactions, competition for allies around the world,
and other psychological and political processes.
With few exceptions (Frank, 1967; Wagner, 1988), psychologists and political scientists
stayed close to the Realpolitik framework when analyzing large-scale conflict during the Cold
War. Moreover, policy recommendations were largely reactive and narrowly focused on the
superpower relationship as attempts were made to prescribe ways of diminishing the intensity
of the superpower conflict.
The Cold War was a conflict on a grand scale that spawned a great deal of research and
practice on methods of resolving conflicts. The groundwork for the practice of conflict resolution was laid many years earlier when Follet (1940) introduced conflict resolution methods in
organizational settings. But it was in the midst of the Cold War that Fisher and Ury's (1981)
very practical and highly readable little book, Getting to Yes, became a bestseller. To this day,
the book is a useful guide on how to negotiate and resolve conflicts. Some of the concepts
they introduced, such as "win-win outcomes," are still part of the everyday vocabulary of professional negotiators and laypersons alike.
The late 1980s saw the Cold War end, with little assistance from conflict resolution procedures. Instead, the Soviet Union's power diminished under the crush of its own economic
problems, which were largely caused by its overextension on international commitments
around the world far beyond its capabilities (Kennedy, 1986). The West could rejoice as Soviet influence sharply declined and the Berlin Wall, a symbol of the great global, superpower
divide, began to fall. At the conclusion of the Cold War, only one superpower remained, and
concerns about the nuclear arms race and the possibility of nuclear annihilation subsided dramatically (Schatz & Fiske, 1992).

THE POST-COLD WAR ERA: PEACE PSYCHOLOGY COMES OF AGE
The Cold Warwas a power struggle of global proportions that made certain categories of violence
salient. Using the state as the focal unit of analysis, scholars concentrated their attention on interstate wars, wars ofliberation, secessionist movements, civil wars, and wars in which the superpowers direcdy intervened militarily (i.e., interventionist wars). Although many other forms ofviolence were prevalent, from a state-centered perspective, what mattered most were those struggles
that had a direct bearing on the strategic, U.S.-Soviet balance of power (George, 1983).
Since the end of the Cold War in the late 1980s, the planet'S bipolar superpower structure
has reconfigured dramatically and entirely new categories of security concerns have emerged.
To be sure, the sovereign states of the international system will still have conflicts to manage,
but increasingly, patterns of violence are not neady following the contours of our inherited
system of sovereign states. In the post-Cold War era, a complex pattern of interlacing schisms
is emerging, which divides people not so much by state boundaries but byethnicity, religion,
economic well-being, population density, and environmental sustainability (Klare, 1998). A
small sample of what we are now observing globally is the outbreak of ethnic violence and

Introduction to Peace Psychology

7

other forms of identity group conflict and violence, a growing number of economic and political refugees, ecological devastation and pockets of food insecurity, concentrations of drugrelated violence, and international terrorism. These problems are within and across international boundaries and underscore the need to reorient peace psychology and enlarge its
scope of practice. The current volume was conceived within the context of these new challenges and represents an attempt to reinvigorate the search for psychological analyses that
can inform theory and practice in peace psychology for the twenty-first century.

DEFINING THE SCOPE OF PEACE PSYCHOLOGY
The waning of the Cold War made it possible for peace psychologists to step back from a preoccupation with a single issue-nuclear annihilation-and begin to consider a broader range
of threats and opportunities that bear on human well-being and survival. Our intention in this
volume is to capture some of the new currents in the field by offering a sample of scholarship
that reflects the breadth of research and practice that is being undertaken and shaping peace
psychology in the twenty-first century. We have tried to include the work of scholars from
around the world because peace psychology aspires to be international in scope and
grounded in a multi-cultural framework. As the chapters will make clear, peace psychologists
in the post-Cold War era remain concerned about the problem of violence but they are enlarging the radius of their concerns to include the insidious problem of structural violence,
which occurs when basic human needs are not met and life spans are shortened because of inequalities in the way political and economic structures of a society distribute resources (Galtung, 1969). Moreover, the "peace" in peace psychology is being cast in a far more comprehensive framework, requiring an ambitious agenda that attends not only to traditional
concerns about the nonviolent resolution of conflict but also to growing concerns about the
pursuit of socially just ends. These new emphases in peace psychology require nothing short
of a redefinition of the field. Accordingly, we offer the following definition that captures the
thrust of the current volume:
Peace psychology seeks to develop theories and practices aimed at the prevention and mitigation of
direct and structural violence. Framed positively, peace psychology promotes the nonviolent management of conflict and the pursuit of social justice, what we refer to as peacemaking and peacebuilding, respectively.

Our working definition of peace psychology is used to frame the organization of the
book, which conforms to a four-way model focusing on direct violence, structural violence,
peacemaking, and peace building.

ORGANIZATION OF THE BOOK: THE FOUR-WAY MODEL
Section I: Direct Violence
The current volume retains the traditional focus of peace psychology on international relations by applying psychological concepts and theory to problems of interstate violence and the
threat of nuclear war. In addition, because direct violence does not nearly follow the contours
of the sovereign state system, chapters in Section I reflect a wider radius of violent episodes

B

Introduction to Peace Psychology

that vary in scale from two-person intimate relations to the large-scale violence of genocide.
While different in scale and complexity, these varied forms of violence share several features:
They all engender direct, acute insults to the psychological or physical well-being of individuals or groups, and they erupt periodically as events or episodes.
The analytic tools of peace psychologists are central to understanding many forms of direct violence. For instance, in Section I, many of the contributors from around the world underscore the importance of social identity processes, which are manifest when individuals begin
to identify with particular groups and favor their ingroups over outgroups. Quite naturally,
the basic need to have a sense of who we are is inextricably woven into the fabric of our identity groups. Conflict and violence often erupts when two or more groups of individuals have
different identities and see each other as threats to their identity group's continued existence.
These identity-based conflicts are central to many forms of violence including hate crimes,
gang violence, ethnic conflicts, and even genocide. Sovereign states have been woefully inadequate in dealing with identity-based problems.
Also reflected throughout the text is peace psychologists' growing appreciation for the
structural roots of violent episodes. For example, patriarchal structures in which males dominate females playa role in intimate violence. Similarly, cultural narratives that denigrate gays,
lesbians, and other marginalized identity groups are predisposing conditions for direct violence. Section II looks closer at some forms of violence that are deeply rooted in the structures of a society, what we are calling "structural violence."

Section II: Structural Violence
Today, an increasing number of peace psychologists are concerned about structural violence
(Galtung, 1969), an insidious form of violence that is built into the fabric of political and economic structures of a society (Christie, 1997; Pilisuk, 1998; Schwebel, 1997). Structural violence is a problem in and of itself, killing people just as surely as direct violence. But structural
violence kills people slowly by depriving them of satisfying their basic needs. Life spans are
curtailed when people are socially dominated, politically oppressed, or economically exploited. Structural violence is a global problem in scope, reflected in vast disparities in wealth and health,
both within and between societies. Section II examines a number of forms of structural violence, all of which engender structure-based inequalities in the production, allocation, and
utilization of material and non-material resources.
Galtung (1969) proposed that one way to define structural violence was to calculate the
number of avoidable deaths. For instance, if people die from exposure to inclement conditions when shelter is available for them somewhere in the world, then structural violence is
taking place. Similarly, structural violence occurs when death is caused by scarcities in food,
inadequate nutrition, lack of health care, and other forms of deprivation that could be redressed if distribution systems were more equitably structured. The chapters in Section II make
it clear that structural violence is endemic to economic systems that produce a concentration of
wealth for some· while exploiting others, political systems that give access to some and oppress
others, and hierarchical social systems that are suffused with ethnocentrism and intolerance.
In Table 1, we outline some differences between direct and structural violence based in
part on Galtung's (1996) pioneering work in peace studies.
As noted in Table 1, direct violence refers to physical violence that harms or kills people
quickly, producing somatic trauma or total incapacitation. In contrast, structural violence kills

Introduction to Peace Psychology

9

Table 1
Direct Violence

Structural Violence

Kills people directly

Kills people indirectly

Kills quickly

Kills slowly

Somatichann

Somatic deprivation

Dramatic

Commonplace

Personal

Impersonal

Acute insult to well-being

Chronic insult to well-being

Intermittent

Continuous

Subject-action-object observable

Subject-action-object unobservable

Intentional and immoral

Unintentional and amoral

Episodes may be prevented

Inertia may be mitigated

indirectly and slowly, curtailing life spans by depriving people of material and non-material resources. Direct violence is often dramatic and personal. Structural violence is commonplace
and impersonal. Direct violence may involve an acute insult to the physical well-being of an individual or group. Structural violence is a chronic threat to well-being. Direct violence occurs
intermittently, as discrete events, while structural violence is ongoing and continuous. In direct violence, the subject-action-object relationships are readily observable while political and
economic structures of violence are not directly observable, though their deadly results, which
are delayed and diffuse, are apparent in disproportionately high rates of infant and maternal
mortality in various pockets of the world. Because it is possible to infer whether intentionality
is present in cases of physical violence, the morality of an act can be judged and sanctions can
be applied. Direct violence is often scrutinized by drawing on religious dicta, legal codes, and
ethical systems. Intentionality is not as obvious in impersonal systems of structural violence,
and considerations of punishment are seldom applicable. Finally, direct violence can be prevented. In contrast, structural violence is ongoing, and intervention is aimed at mitigating its
inertia. Fundamentally, structural violence occurs whenever societal structures and institutions
produce oppression, exploitation, and dominance. These conditions are static, stable, normalized, serve the interests of those who hold power and wealth, and are not self<orrecting.
A psychological question, posed in Section II on structural violence, is how people, who
are morally principled, can live their lives without giving much attention or thought to the pervasive problem of structural violence. To answer this question, research is presented that identifies psychological processes people employ routinely and by so doing. limit their scope ofjustice
to include only certain people, thereby perpetuating the socially unjust conditions of structural
violence. Authors in Section II also look carefully at the targets of structural violence, especially women and children, because they are disproportionately harmed by structural violence
worldwide. An emerging problem of the twenty-first century is globalization, which refers to
the worldwide push for free markets that leave in their wake enormous inequalities on a large
scale. Globalization is fuelling vast disparities in wealth and a global division of labor in which
people in some countries profit and engage in the work of the head while others suffer and

10

Introduction to Peace Psychology

toil with their hands. At the dawn of the twenty-first century, militarization continues to be an
important source of strucmral violence, generating vast inequalities in coercive power and fuelling the potential for episodes of violence, as big powers supply arms to smaller countries
around the world.
Although we have highlighted distinctions between direct and strucmral violence, the relationship between direct and strucmral violence is circular. For example, the man who physically abuses a woman is enacting a dominance hierarchy that is supported by patriarchal narratives in a society. At the same time, his violent act reinforces the structural arrangement
that puts men in a dominant position over women. Hence, direct violence is not a standalone phenomenon; instead, direct and strucmral violence operate together forming an interlocking system of violence. The challenge for peace psychologists is to become systems analysts, which requires an effort to simultaneously focus on the individual as the locus of the
problem while also transforming the structural and cultural context within which violent behavior is embedded.
In the last two sections of the book, we look at two kinds of peace processes which form a
system of peace that is well suited for the prevention and mitigation of direct and structural violence. We begin with peacemaking, an attempt to prevent or mitigate direct violence by promoting the nonviolent management of conflict.

Section III: Peacemaking
Peacemaking is designed to reduce the frequency and intensity of direct violence. The section
on peacemaking begins with a chapter on U.N. peacekeeping, an approach in which would-be
combatants are separated by neutral forces. Peacekeeping may be used flexibly, either before
or after episodes of direct violence, that is, to prevent or mitigate episodes of violence. Peacekeeping has traditionally focused on managing, rather than resolving, conflicts. Several chapters in Section III are given to the topic, "conflict resolution, " reflecting the emphasis in peace
psychology on the prevention of violent episodes by using procedures that encourage dialogue, empathy, and win/win outcomes. Contemporary theorists and practitioners in conflict
resolution view conflict as a perceptual event, arising when two or more parties perceive their
goals as incompatible with one another. By convention, psychologists separate thought and
action, which allows conflict practitioners to decouple the perception of incompatible goals
(conflict) from violent behavior, and deal with the former before the outbreak of the latter.
Therefore, although conflicts may lead to direct physical violence, the perception of incompatible goals does not make violence inevitable. What matters most is whether or not the parties in a conflict use the situation as an opportunity for creative problem solving that can benefit both or alternatively, mismanage the conflict in ways that damage the relationship (Rubin
& Levinger, 1995). Because the meanings of conflict and resolution are always embedded
within the context of a particular culture, we also have included a chapter that highlights the
importance of cultural contexts.
Although conflict resolution procedures attempt to prevent episodes of violence, in many
instances, when violence is not prevented, other efforts are needed that are better suited for
post-war interventions. Several chapters in Section III address the aftermath of violence and
the importance of addressing psychological, political, and economic dimensions of the problems that arise in the wake of violent episodes. Topics include the problem of post-war
trauma, reconciliation in divided societies, and the broader problem of societal reconstruc-

Introduction to Peace Psychology

11

tion. Even though these post-war interventions take place after-the-fact, they can interrupt repeated episodes or cycles of violence, and thereby serve as a form of violence prevention.
Although peacemaking is often very useful, the approach has limitations, not least of
which is the problem that peacemaking can be used as a tool by those with power who can insist on peaceful means of resolving disputes, while ignoring socially just ends. The dialogue
process that characterizes peacemaking approaches is important but a sustainable peace requires structural and cultural peacebuilding, actions and supporting narratives that redress
the deeper and more permanent roots of the problem.

Section IV: Peacebuilding
While preventing and mitigating episodes of destructive conflict and violence are familiar moorings for peace psychologists, we seek to enlarge our scope of inquiry and practice by mitigating
the inertia of structural violence. Just as we found it useful to distinguish direct and structural violence, we also see merit in distinguishing peacemaking (Section III) from peacebuilding, the
latter of which refers to the pursuit of social justice (Section N). The issue of social justice
(Deutsch, 1985) and positive approaches to peace that emphasize human interdependence and
the satisfaction of needs is not new to the field of psychology (Wagner, 1988), nor to the interdisciplinary field of peace studies (Smoker, Davies, &Munske, 1990). But once again, we are particularly indebted to Galtung's (1996) work in the multidisciplinary field of peace studies, where
the distinction between peacemaking and peacebuilding is central to the discourse. In Table 2,
we delineate a number of differences between peacemaking and peace building.
As noted in Table 2, the term "peacemaking" refers to a set of actions that reduce the likelihood of violent episodes. In contrast, peacebuilding is designed to reduce structural violence.
Peacemaking emphasizes nonviolent means while peace building emphasizes socially just ends.
Peacemaking tends to be reactive, arising from the threat or actual use of direct violence. Peacebuilding can be proactive, addressing long-term structural inequalities that may become antecedents of violent episodes. Peacemaking is temporal and spatial, satisfying the current interests of conflicted parties who occupy a particular geopolitical space. Peacebuilding is ubiquitous
and less constrained by time and place. Peacemaking emphasizes the prevention of violence
while peace building emphasizes the promotion of social justice. Peacemaking may support the
interests of the status quo while peace building often threatens the social order.
Peacebuilding has cultural, political, and economic dimensions (Galtung, 1996). Culturally, peacebuilding requires the transformation of cultural narratives or beliefs that justify and

Table 2
Peacemaking

Peacebuilding

Reduces direct violence

Reduces structural violence

Emphasis on nonviolent means

Emphasis on socially just ends

Reactive

Proactive

Temporally and spatially constrained

Ubiquitous

Prevention of violent episodes

Promotion of social justice

Interest in the status quo

Threat to status quo

12

Introduction to Peace Psychology

legitimize the dominance of one group over another. Politically, peace building occurs when
political systems that oppress people are transformed so that there are equal opportunities for
political representation and voice. Peacebuilding includes transforming economic structures
that exploit and deprive people of resources needed for optimal growth and development so
that everyone has adequate material amenities such as decent housing, jobs, education, and
health care. Although transformative processes are cultural and structural, progress in peacebuilding can be observed indirectly with measures that tap the degree to which there is equity
in basic need satisfaction within and between societies. (bLality of life indices are particularly
useful and typically include mortality, lifespan, and levels of literacy (see, for example, United
Nations Development Programme, 1997).
Peacebuilding is important in and of itself, to redress structural inequalities that deprive
people of choices, health, and wealth. But peacebuilding also is essential to root out the structural bases of direct violence. A theme we advance in the present volume is that sustainable
peace requires peacemaking efforts within the context of longer term efforts to promote
macro level changes that produce more equitable social structures, that is, both peaceful
means of dealing with differences and socially just ends. Indeed, from our perspective, peace
is indivisible, including not only the absence of violence but also a continually crafted balance
of structurally organized equality that satisfies basic human needs.
Peacebuilding shifts the emphasis from extreme individualism to institutional change and
community based solutions, as exemplified in participatory action research, a methodology
which places social transformation and empowerment at the center of the research process
(Brydon-Miller, 1997; Lykes, 1997). Section N deals with various conceptualizations of peacebuilding and applications throughout the world. Emphasis is placed on promoting human
rights, Gandhian principles of nonviolent social change, the role of women as peacebuilders,
and roles for psychologists as practitioners and policy change advocates.
The four-way model we introduce employs conceptual distinctions between direct and
structural violence and between peacemaking and peacebuilding. In practice, however, direct
and structural violence form a larger system of violence. Similarly, peacemaking and peacebuilding, while conceptually distinct, can be treated as an interlocking system ofpeace.

SYSTEMS OF VIOLENCE AND PEACE
Although it may be useful for peace psychologists to distinguish direct and structural violence,
we are beginning to see more clearly a circular relationship between both types of violence,
forming an interlocking system of violence. The system operates at various levels, from the interpersonal level to the large-scale violence of genocide as we illustrate with the following
examples.
In intimate relations, for example, the direct violence of men on women continues worldwide, in part because women's low socioeconomic status constricts choices and keeps women
in a position of vulnerability and dependency vis-a.-vis men, a structurally violent condition that
sets the stage for more episodes of direct violence. The cultural dimension is also present as violence isjustified by patriarchal narratives about a "woman's place" (Bunch & Carillo, 1998).
At another level, genocide cannot be easily explained away as the resurfacing of ancient
hatreds. Although a number of familiar psychological dynamics are at play in ethnicity-based
genocide, including oppositional group identities, group polarization, and fear of one an-

Introduction to Peace Psychology

13

other, the deeper, structural roots also maUer. For example, the genocide that took place in
Rwanda and left nearly threNIuarters of a million people dead can be traced back to colonial
policies that gave preferential treatment to one group (Tutsis) over another group (Hutus),
and by doing so produced a hierarchical arrangement in their society (Mays, Bullock, Rosenzweig, & Wessells, 1998). These differences are then exacerbated by contemporary structural
forces such as crushing poverty, large class inequalities, pressure from the International Monetary Fund (making the poor even poorer), and a variety of others structural factors (Smith,
1998).
Not only does structural violence playa role in direct violence but the converse also holds,
thereby completing the circle. For example, militarization, the degree to which nations rely
on weapons, is treated in this volume as a form of structural violence. We appreciate that
there is a large political constituency in the United States that embraces a robust military budget because it believes that the best way to ensure peace is through military strength. At the
same time, militarism produces enormous profits for weapons developers and drains resources from other sectors of the economy that could satisfy human needs more productively
and equitably. Moreover, the United States supplies more weapons to the world than any
other country and most of the recipients are Third World countries that feel threatened by
their neighbors. Like the United States, these Third World countries are pursuing security by
accumulating weapons (Renner, 1998). In essence, militarization produces structural violence
within the United States and provides the means by which internation rivalries can become
deadly, organized, direct violence.
On a global scale, resources are distributed unevenly with the poverty in the global south
contributing indirectly to drug-related crimes and deaths in the global north. Interdependence is apparent as poor farmers cultivate the coca plant in order to generate income to survive. On the demand side, drug traffickers in the global north find it far more lucrative to
move drugs than to work at minimum wage jobs that offer no health care benefits or opportunities for advancement (Crosby & Van Soest, 1997).
Not only is violence systemic but peace processes also can be viewed from a systems perspective. Peacemaking, as exemplified by conflict resolution procedures, can be used, to deal
directly with part of a violent system, encouraging nonviolent dialogue instead of overt forms
of violence. However, from our perspective, the deeper roots of these problems require an integration of peacemaking with peacebuilding. To root out the structural bases of these problems previously mentioned requires a transformation of the socioeconomic status of women
worldwide, the elimination of militarism, and the elimination of disparities in wealth that divide people by ethnicity and geography. In short, problems of violence on any scale require
the promotion of a system of peace that emphasizes the nonviolent management of differences combined with the pursuit of socially just ends.
In the last chapter of this volume, we revisit the four-way model and then delineate some
perennial tensions in the field of peace psychology. We conclude with a discussion of the challenges that are likely to face peace psychologists throughout the twenty-first century, emphasizing the centrality of environmental sustainability (Winter, 1996) as we pursue structural
and cultural changes that are capable of delivering the equitable satisfaction of human needs
for current and future generations.

SECTION I

DIRECT VIOLENCE
Introduction by
Richard V. Wagner

Violence derives from conflict, but conflict does not inevitably result in violence. Conflict can
often be constructive. Only under certain extreme conditions does conflict ultimately result in
violence. Conflict, defined as "perceived divergence of interest, or a belief that the parties' ...
current aspirations cannot be achieved simultaneously" (Rubin, Pruitt, & Kim, 1994, p. 5), can
be dealt with in a variety of ways, including cooperative problem solving, yielding by one of
the parties, and inaction. as well as various nonviolent contentious tactics such as ingratiation,
persuasive arguing, and threats. Alternatively, the conflict can be handled by violence.
There are certain preconditions for a violent response to conflict: (a) that a party care
more about its own interests than about the interests of the other, a basic principle of the dual
concern model of conflict (Blake & Mouton, 1979), and (b) that a party believe it will be successful if it acts violently in pursuit of its goals. In addition, there are factors which increase
the probability that conflict will result in violence, among them the perception that nonviolent means will be ineffective, that violence will have few negative repercussions for the aggressor, and that violence will prevent the adversary from gaining an advantage if it were to initiate violence first. Furthermore, there are certain contextual factors that predispose a party to
act violently, including social norms that condone violence and the availability of means (e.g.,
weapons) of executing a violent act.
In this first section, we consider direct violence, the most obvious, overt form of violence,
perpetrated by one or more disputants directly upon those with whom they are in conflict. In
our introductory chapter, we distinguished between direct violence and the structural violence that is built into the social, political. and economic institutions of a society. Direct violence requires no intervening social structures for the violence to occur. It is the violence we
read and hear about daily. It is parents fighting, one spouse battering the other or their children; it is children beating up other children in school or gangs attacking customers at a gay
bar; it is ethnic cleansing, it is terrorism, it is war.
Direct violence and structural violence (which is the subject of the succeeding section of
this volume) are highly interdependent. The existence of structural violence, such as unequal
distribution of resources or a corrupt political system, inevitably produces conflict, and often
direct violence. People who live in substandard conditions and see themselves as unable to
satisfy their needs in the face of a political system that they cannot otherwise influence, may

15

16

Direct Violence

resort to direct violence to address their needs. Often the process is circular: structural violence leading an oppressed group to direct violence, which in tum leads to further oppression
to curb the direct violence. For example, if the political establishment feels threatened by the
people protesting substandard living conditions, they may respond with further oppression to
curb the direct violence.
There are three themes that appear in the majority of the chapters in this section: our
ability to generalize from one level of analysis and one type of violence to another; the critical
role that protecting one's identity plays in promoting violence; and the cultural values that influence violent action.

GENERAUZAllON
In the introductory chapter, we stated that "peace psychology seeks to develop theories and
practices aimed at the prevention and mitigation of destructive conflict, violence, domination,
oppression, and exploitation." The authors of the chapters in this section engage in this
process by presenting concepts and examples pertaining to violence in a variety of settings
and at different levels of analysis, from the interpersonal to the international. It would be valuable to know to what extent the principles applied in one setting can be profitably generalized
to other settings. Can we, for example, generalize from bullying on the playground to bullying
in sub-Saharan Mrica, or from anti-gay/lesbian hate crimes to ethnic cleansing?
Levinger and Rubin (1994) provide a helpful typology and set of principles that can guide
us through the process of generalization. They suggest that all conflicts have some features in
common, such as their derivation from perceived divergence of interests and the presence of
a mixture of motives. However, in the case of the number of parties in the conflict and the
number of issues involved, we should generalize with caution. When a conflict is between two
people, determining the parties' interests may be quite simple; when the conflict is among nations, their interests may be quite complex and, further, may involve a number of constituencies, each with its own interrelated set of interests. It would, therefore, be extremely inappropriate to take a model developed from analyses of domestic disputes and apply it uncritically
to international disputes.

IDENTITY
A second theme you will find in a number of the articles is the central role identity plays in
conflict and violence. Abrahams, for example, notes that low self-esteem and self-efficacy are
associated with wife batterers, and Staub asserts that one group devalues another in order to
strengthen its own identity. Three chapters use social identity theory and its successors to explain conflict and violence: Murphy argues that social identity leads to bias in favor of one's
own group, which in the case of gender is a background factor in anti-gay/lesbian violence;
Niens and Cairns use self-categorization theory and relative deprivation theory as explanatory
components for intrastate violence; and Druckman uses social identity and self-categorization
theory to explain ways in which nationalistic sentiments can lead to war.

Direct Violence

17

CULTURAL CONTEXT
The third theme incorporated in most of these chapters is that cultural norms provide the
background for violence. Cultural norms and values are evident throughout gender role expectations in the case of intimate violence, homophobia in anti-gay/lesbian violence, cultural
devaluation and an "ideal of antagonism" in genocide, nationalistic sentiments in interstate
conflict, and political and moral values in the use of weapons of mass destruction. Clearly,
peace psychologists must understand the dynamics of conflict in a wide variety of contexts,
from the interpersonal to the international levels of analysis.

OVERVIEW OF THE CHAPTERS ON DIRECT VIOLENCE
We begin this section focussing on conflict and violence at the most basic social level of analysis-two-person intimate relationships. In the first chapter, Naomi Abrahams argues that the
major underlying issue in domestic violence is dominance and control. She describes various
psychological factors involved-attitudes, behavior, and social learning-and then moves up a
level of analysis to consider domestic violence in the context of family systems theory.
Bianca Cody Murphy analyzes anti-gay/lesbian violence in the United States. Many of the
explanations she reviews, such as the authoritarian personality, frustration and scapegoating,
and social identity theory, derive from earlier psychological analyses of racial and anti-semitic
violence in the community. She includes an attitudinal analysis of the development of homophobic views and behavior. Then, like Abrahams, she steps beyond purely psychological analyses with a description. of political and feminist perspectives on anti-gay/lesbian violence and
proposes legal, cultural, and educational responses to such hate crimes.
Moving beyond the community, ethnic violence is the focal theme in Ulrike Niens and Ed
Cairns' analysis of intrastate violence and Ervin Staub's examination of genocide and mass
killing. Niens and Cairns describe how relative deprivation, social identity, and self-categorization theories help explain intrastate conflict and then they apply their analysis to the conflict in
Northern Ireland. Staub uses a variety of constructs in his analysis of genocide, from individual
processes such as just-world thinking, bystander apathy, and scapegoating to societal variables
like traditions of obedience, unhealed group trauma, and an "ideology of antagonism."
Interstate conflict is addressed in Daniel Druckman's chapter on nationalism and war,
and in Lucian Conway, Peter Suedfeld, and Philip Tetlock's chapter on how integrative
complexity may influence, or be influenced by political decisions that lead to war and
peace. Druckman considers basic needs underlying nationalist sentiments and discusses our
understanding of how nationalist images may lead to war. He is acutely aware of the problems of levels of analysis, asking whether we understand how people transfer their sentiments from small membership groups to larger, national entities. Conway, Suedfeld, and
Tetlock review the literature on integrative complexity, that is, the degree to which people
understand multiple perspectives on a particular problem and are able to integrate those
perspectives coherently. They list a variety of political contexts in which low integrative complexity has been associated with a drastic deterioration in interstate relations, and note the
uncertainty about the role of low integrative complexity: is it a symptom or a cause of worsening relations?

18

Direct Violence

Finally, Michael Britton's chapter on nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons of mass
destruction discusses weaponry in the context of the massive mutual fear that developed during the Cold War. He asks how long it will be before there is universal recognition that
weapons of mass destruction will ultimately make war obsolete.
I conclude this introduction with a caveat. Many of the articles acknowledge that psychological analysis provides only a part-perhaps a small part-of the explanation of direct violence. Niens and Cairns, for example, see psychology as "modest but critical" and recognize
political, economic, and religious bases of intergroup violence. Similarly, Murphy acknowledges the importance of political explanations of anti-gay/lesbian violence. Small or large,
psychology's contributions to understanding the bases of direct violence are relevant-as are
all potential explanations-and therefore should be understood and further developed to the
greatest extent possible.

CHAPTER 1

INTIMATE VIOLENCE
Naomi Abrahams

The prevalence of intimate violence has become frighteningly apparent: Current statistical estimates suggest that 28 percent of
marital relationships in the United States include incidents of physical violence (Gelles
& Straus, 1988; Straus & Gelles, 1990). Further, the rates of dating violence are at least
as high (Gelles, 1997). Clearly, the magnitude of intimate violence suggests that a
slap, punch, or kick within couples cannot
be fully understood solely in terms of individual pathology, though it may be tempting to do so. While individual behavior is
certainly shaped by psychological factors, it
is simultaneously influenced by social structures such as the family, religion, law, and
power relations particular to gender, race,
and class. In this way, psychology's focus on
the individual, and sociology's focus on
groups and society, are both important in
coming to terms with the awesome problem
of intimate violence.
Consider the following case study of
Lisa reported in Barnett and LaViollette
(1993):
I believe that you stay with your partner for
better or for worse. I didn't know what
''worse'' was when I made that promise, but I
promised. I believe my husband loves me,
and I'm starting to believe he could kill me.

I'm not sure how long I should stay and how
"bad" is "too bad." I know I don't believe I
should be hit But I do believe if my relationship is a mess, I should stay to help make it
better. (p. 2)

Through her statement, Lisa reveals a
discourse surrounding gender and marriage;
namely, that it is important to work on a marriage, even if that marriage involves violence.
Her experience as an individual is wrapped
up in cultural expectations surrounding commitment in relationships. Linking the individual and social structure is important in making sense of intimate violence.
Peace psychology may contribute to understanding and transforming intimate violence because it traverses difficult bounds
between individual, organizational, and societal levels of analysis in addressing conflict
and violence. At its core, intimate "iolence
rips away security, identity, and self-determination. Intimate violence often centers on
power and control over another person.
Let's take a look at the case history of Betty
and Henry reported by Barnett and LaViollette (1993):
Betty and Henry were married and had a
l4-month-old daughter, Melissa. Henry was
self~mployed but unmotivated. When Betty's
independence got the better of him, he be-

19

Direct Violence

20
came abusive. Betty had gone to work on numerous occasions with bruises on her face
and arms. For the most part, nobody talked
about what was happening. (It is often easier
for friends and family to deny abuse, to minimize the severity of discord, and to ignore evidence.)
Betty's friends and financial security
were a threat to Heruy. He became more
controlling, and he threatened to kill her if
she tried to leave. His obsession culminated
in Betty's 2-week "confinement." He stayed
at home to watch her. Eventually, he needed
money and took her to the bank to make a
withdrawal from her savings account. Betty
and Melissa escaped to the Long Beach Battered Women's Shelter.
Henry threatened to sue Betty for custody of the baby unless he was allowed to
visit her. A third-party ,.jsitation was set up
by the shelter through her attorney. No one
at the shelter felt good about this arrangement, but everyone felt compelled to go
ahead with the plan because of the legal
ramifications of noncompliance. Betty and
the baby were to go to her attorney's office
accompanied by a male friend of Betty's
(the father of one of her friends). While
they were in the parking lot, Henry grabbed
the baby and told Betty to get into his car or
she would never see Melissa again.
Betty's body was not discovered for several months. Henry was charged with murder. He had taken Betty to an isolated spot
in the desert where he beat and shot her.
Her body had to be identified by her dental
records. Melissa had been in the car.
At Henry's trial, one of his previous
wives admitted to the abuse she had experienced at his hands. She was still afraid of
him. Henry was eventually convicted of
second-degree murder. Betty's last words to
one of the authors as she left to meet Henry
were: "If! don't come back, it is because he
killed me." (p. 49-50)
Nearly 700 husbands and boyfriends are
killed by their girlfriends or wives each year,

whereas more than 1,500 wives and girlfriends are killed by husbands and boyfriends each year (U.S. Department of Justice, 1995). Murder constitutes an extreme
form of intimate violence: it represents the
tip of the iceberg of a problem that is widespread in intimate relationships.
Since peace psychology identifies and
promotes conditions that favor human
needs for security, identity, and self-determination, peace psychology can and should
concern itself with the daunting problem of
intimate violence. Research on violence for
the twenty-first century must develop a language that adequately addresses power relations as they relate to intimate violence. Psychology must be more closely melded with
sociology in research on intimate violence.
In so doing, we will be afforded the opportunity for a more integrated response to the
questions: What are the dynamics underlying an adequate explanation for intimate violence? What can be done to reduce intimate violence?
For more than twenty years, researchers,
activists, and survivors have struggled with
the dynamics underlying intimate violence.
Psychologists and sociologists have contributed to an understanding of intimate violence. In this chapter, I review approaches to
intimate violence within the fields of psychology and sociology. I discuss the problems with· early research, particularly in the
field of psychology. In addition, I examine
ways in which dominance and control are
central to addressing intimate violence. For
the purpose of this chapter, I focus on physical violence among adults. Physical violence
is one form of intimate violence along with
emotional abuse and sexual abuse. In addition, child abuse within families is a huge
problem in its own right. I narrow the focus
here not because other forms of intimate
violence are less important, but simply to

Intimate Violence

allow some depth in my discussion of this aspect of intimate violence.

PSYCHOLOGICAL APPROACHES
TO INTIMATE VIOLENCE
There are a variety of approaches within the
field of psychology to intimate violence. In
particular, intimate violence has been studied in relation to abnonnal psychology and
personality theories, behavioral and attitudinal approaches, and social learning theory.

Abnormal Psychology
and Personality Approaches
Early psychological research tended to emphasize the unique, abnonnal characteristics of individuals who engaged in intimate
violence. For example, physically assaultive
husbands were deemed sadistic (Pizzey,
1974) or suffering from brain lesions resulting in sporadic outbursts of violence (Elliot,
1977). Sometimes, researchers suggested
that battered women were masochistic
(Snell, Rosenwald, & Robey, 1964). In part,
early research relied on small samples of violent relationships with particularly skewed
groups, such as men who had been convicted of assault. And, violence was understood to be a rare occurrence in families.
Most of the research, past and present, has
focused on violence against women by men
in heterosexual relationships.
Within the realm of psychological literature, recent research benefits from the understanding that violence cannot be adequately explained solely on the basis of
personality traits. While some researchers
still look to personality disorders, they explain only a fairly small proportion, estimated at 10 percent, of cases of intimate violence (Straus, 1980). Clinical research is
more likely than survey research to empha-

21
size the characteristics of individuals that
might lead to violence. Hamberger and Hastings (1986), for example, suggest that assaultive men may have borderline personalities, they may be anti-social, and/or may
suffer passive-dependent/ compulsive disorders. In a later comparative study of violent
and non-violent men, Hamberger and Hastings (1991) report that non-violent men are
more comfortable in intimate relationships
and experience greater control over their
emotional states. Other researchers report
low self-esteem among men who batter their
wives (Neidig, Friedman, & Collins, 1986), as
well as feelings of inadequacy and powerlessness (Weitzman & Dreen, 1982). Dutton
(1995) finds that borderline personality disorder is positively related to assaultive behavior among men in intimate relationships. He
argues that men who experience absent, abusive, or cold parental upbringing develop
fear and anger with respect to attachment,
resulting in borderline personalities as well
as intimate abuse. One exciting area of research in psychology looks at a variety of different profiles of abusers. Dutton and Golant
(1995) outline a variety of types of physically
assaultive men. One type of physically abusive man they discuss is the psychopathic assaulter who experiences no remorse for the
abuse he inflicts and who is often violent outside as well as inside the family. Another type
of abuser is overcontrolled, emotionally withdrawn, and passive-aggressive. Finally, cyclical abusers are emotionally volatile and experience an extreme need to control intimacy.
The growing recognition of a variety of
psychological profiles of batterers will lead
to more sophisticated, and hopefully effective, remedies for violence. In addition, the
psychological complexity of battery contributes to sociological research, thereby
bridging the gap between psychological and
sociological approaches to intimate vio-

22
lence. For example, recent sociological research on the widespread practice of arresting batterers shows that only some types of
batterers are likely to be deterred by arrest.
Indeed, arrest may provoke further violence
among batterers who are not easily shamed
and who commit other types of violent acts
(Sherman, 1992). In this manner, it is important to combine an analysis of psychological profiles of batterers with deterrence
strategies in order to implement effective
policies for reducing intimate violence.

Behavioral and
Attitudinal Approaches
In addition to considerations of self-esteem,
self-efficacy, and personality disorders as
contributors to intimate violence, Riggs and
O'Leary (1989) have considered behavioral
and attitudinal predictors of violence. They
suggest that acceptance of violence, past use
of violence, partner aggression, and relationship conflict are important predictors of
violent behavior in intimate relationships.
Another important behavioral correlate is
alcohol consumption. Considerable research has demonstrated a correlation between alcohol abuse and family violence
(Coleman & Straus, 1983; Gelles, 1974;
Leonard &Jacob, 1988). On the other hand,
Song (1996), in her study of wife beating in
Korean immigrant communities, found that
alcohol consumption had no relationship to
rates of violence. Instead, traditional cultural values predicted greater levels of violence. Indeed, the culturaI expectations associated with alcohol may have a greater
impact on behavior than the drug itself.
From his examination of survey, police,
cross-cultural, and experimental research,
Gelles (1993a) also argues that alcohol does
not cause family violence. In particular,
cross-cultural and experimental research indicate divergent behavioral outcomes from

Direct Violence

alcohol consumption. It seems that as it relates to aggression, the effects of alcohol are
less physiological than they are based on social expectations regarding culturaI definitions of the effects of alcohol. As Gelles
writes: "In the end, the social expectations
about drinking and drinking behavior in
our society teach people that if they want to
avoid being held responsible for their violence, they can either drink before they are
violent or at least say they were drunk,"
(1993a, p. 84).
Behavior is organized and explained in
relation to the culture in which it exists. In
her work on behavioral cycles of violence,
Lenore Walker recognizes that behavioral
patterns exist within particular cultural contexts (Walker, 1999). Walker (1979) outlines
a behavioral cycle that she calls the "cycle of
violence" to explain intimate violence. The
cycle includes a tension-building phase, an
acute battering phase, and a tranquil, nonviolent phase. During the tension-building
phase, the abuser may engage in psychological and/or relatively minor physical assaults.
The victim of assault, generally a woman,
"walks on eggshells" to assuage her partner
and prevent an escalation of violence. Escalation is inevitable, however, and at some
point, an explosion of violence occurs, during which time the victim has no control
over ending the violence and generally feels
trapped. Following the acute battering
stage, the abuser is often remorseful and
loving in the tranquil phase:
During the third phase, the battered woman
may join widl the batterer in sustaining the
illusion of bliss. She convinces herself, too,
that it will never happen again; her lover
can change, she tells herself. This "good"
man, who is gende and sensitive and nurturing toward her now, is the "real" man, the
man she married, the man she loves. Many
battered women believe that they are the
sole support of the batterer's emotional

Intimate Violence
stability and sanity, the one link their men
have to the normal world. Sensing the batterer's isolation and despair, they feel responsible for his well-being. (Walker, 1989,
p.45)

The inherent loss of control of physical
safety through the cycle of violence leads to
a type of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, according to Walker. Battered women may
stay in violent relationships in part because
they feel they have at least some control in
the situation they are in. Escape would hurl
them into the unknown. The psychological
effects of the cycle of violence also help explain why battered women kill their abusers.
Walker describes Battered Women's Syndroine as a form of Post Traumatic Stress
Disorder triggered by intimate violence in
which battered women kill their abusive
partners. Walker is quick to point out that
psychological dynamics cannot be understood apart from the societal sanctioning of
intimate violence and the lack of adequate
protection or response from the state (i.e.,
police). Battered women are trapped not
only in a psychological sense, but also
through the lack of support they receive culturally, economically, and from the criminal
justice system.

Social Learning
Social learning provides another important
area of research into intimate violence.
Children who observe violence and/or are
victims of violence in their family of origin
are more likely than others to engage in violent behavior or to become victims of violence as adults (Herrenkohl, Herrenkohl, &
Toeder, 1983; Steinmetz, 1977). In other
words, through modeling, individuals may
develop an acceptance of, and propensity to
engage in, violence (O'Leary, 1993). The effects of witnessing violence as a child are
more likely to predict violence for men than

23
for women (Straus, 1980; Ulbrich & Huber,
1981). However, Kaufman and Zigler
(1993), Straus (1980), and O'leary (1988)
warn that the effects of observing violence
are easily overestimated. Growing up in violent households does not determine that an
individual will become violent. As a result,
understanding intimate violence must extend beyond an modeling approach.
While research on the psychological
processes involved in intimate violence are
important, the problem of intimate violence
spills beyond individual characteristics and
dispositions and relationship conflict into
social structure. In order to understand
what ties people to violent relationships, it is
important to consider societal constructions
of the family and gender. To fully explore
the structural dimensions of intimate violence, sociological approaches to intimate
violence must be considered.

SOCIOLOGICAL APPROACHES
TO INTIMATE VIOLENCE
Within sociology, there are two primary and
conflicting approaches to intimate violence.
One approach emphasizes the construction
of the family as a system and as a social institution. As Gelles points out, "The family,
with the exception of the military in times
of war and the police, is society's most violent institution" (1993b, p. 35). The other
approach centers on gender inequality. I
discuss each approach in tum.

Family Systems
What is it about the family as an institution
that fosters high rates of violence? Gelles
and Straus (1979, 1988) suggest that a number of characteristics of families contribute
to intimate violence. In part, contemporary
American culture encourages very high expectations for intimacy within romantic

Direct Violence

24
relationships and families. High expectations regarding family intimacy may also engender disappointment over unmet desires.
Violence may result from frustration over a
sense of a lack of reciprocation of rewards
within the family (Gelles, 1983).
Research on courtship violence suggests
that dating relationships contain somewhat
higher levels of violence than do marital relationships (Gelles, 1997). Perhaps even
more disturbing is the finding by Henton et
al. (1983) that one-quarter of victims of intimate violence and a little less than one-third
of offenders viewed physical violence as a
sign of love. Clearly, cultural defmitions of
romantic love and family intimacy feed into
high rates of intimate violence.
Intimacy may combine with stress to
produce intimate violence in families. Stress
is an inherent outcome of ever-changing
family life as families grow throughout the
life course (Gelles & Straus, 1979). Stress
experienced outside of the family may be
projected onto the family. One source of
stress is financial: Intimate violence is more
common in low-income households, and in
families where men are unemployed or employed part-time (Prescott & Letko, 1977;
Rounsaville, 1978).
Further, societal norms of family privacy also contribute to violence. What goes
on in the family is easily hidden from public
scrutiny (Gelles & Straus, 1979). Gelles
(1983) suggests that people engage in family violence because the rewards of violence
(for example, producing a desired result
from a family member, gaining control)
outweigh the costs of violence such as negative labeling in the larger community.
Straus (1973) argues that families operate as systems that feed off of the normalization of violence in the larger culture and
minimize, ignore, and thereby stabilize violence that occurs within the family itself.

Gender Inequality
For many feminist researchers, the family as
an institution is also deemed to contribute
to intimate violence, though here we begin
to touch on one of the m.gor divisions
within sociological schools of thought regarding intimate violence. Language differences reveal divergent perspectives: Family
systems theory sociologists write about "domestic violence" whereas feminist researchers write about "battered wives" and
"battered women." Feminist researchers emphasize gender inequality as the basis for violence (Dobash & Dobash, 1979; Yllo &
Bogard, 1988). As Yllo writes: "Violence
within the family is as complex as it is disturbing ... Despite this complexity, the
most fundamental feminist insight into all
of this is quite simple: Domestic violence
cannot be adequately understood unless
gender and power are taken into account"
(1993, p. 47). In essence, intimate violence
is one manifestation of patriarchy. Patriarchy, or male domination, is deeply encoded in religious traditions as well as other
cultural expectations that emphasize men's
dominance and women's submission. Social
definitions oflove, nurturance, and caretaking encourage women to remain in violent
homes (Barnett & LaViollette, 1993;
Pagel ow, 1981). This encouragement occurs
both in the form of women's identities and
perceptions of violence as well as in social
systems surrounding women such as family,
clergy, and other support systems in
women's lives. Indeed, cross-cultural research suggests that cultural expectations
condoning marital violence and emphasizing gender inequality contribute to high
rates of intimate violence (Fawcett, Heise,
Isita-Espejel, & Pick, 1999; Home, 1999).
Around the globe, high rates of wife-beating
occur in patriarchal societies (Walker,

Intimate Violence

1999}. From the many thousands of women
burned alive by in-laws when dowry endowments are not deemed high enough in
India (Narasimhan, 1994), to Chilean rates
of intimate violence against woman reaching 60 percent of heterosexual relationships
(Larrain, 1993), wife-beating is deeply enmeshed in the "common sense" of patriarchal cultures.
The economic structuring of society is
woven into cultural traditions supporting intimate violence against women in families
(Dobash & Dobash, 1992). In Western industrialized nations, women are still primarily responsible for domestic labor including
child care (Berk, 1985; Hochschild, 1989)
and are more likely to have interrupted career tI<!iectories to care for small children
(Huber & Spitze, 1983; Steil, 1995) while
being paid less than men for the work that
they do in the paid labor force across racial
categories (Thornborrow & Sheldon, 1995).
Interviews with women who are survivors of
intimate violence indicate that economic
dependence is one important bind to domestic assault (Barnett & laViolette, 1993;
Pagelow, 1981). In this way, patriarchal
structures of the family and labor force contribute to wife-battering. One avenue for addressing the problem of intimate violence
involves promoting economic as well as domestic equality.
At the same time, some research suggests that when husbands have lower status
educationally and occupationally than their
wives they are more likely to engage in intimate violence (Gelles, 1974; Hornung, McCullough, & Sugimoto, 1981). In this case,
wife battery may provide a means to control
and retaliate against women for infringing
upon men's position of dominance. Economic, cultural, law enforcement, and legal
empowerment of women must operate in
conjunction with one another to achieve

25
meaningful change with regards to intimate
violence.
The lack of support for women in situations of intimate violence from the criminal
justice system relates to a disjuncture between cultural meanings of violence and
legal codes prohibiting domestic assault
(Ferraro & Pope, 1993; Abrahams, 1998).
Despite important legal changes as well as
growing economic resources from the state
to aid victims of intimate violence in the
United States, battered women still experience a lack of support from the police,
courts, and support services (Barnett &
LaViolette, 1993; Hoff, 1990). As a result,
battered women are left in violent homes in
states of fear. Feminist research on battered
women also reveals that fear holds women
in families in which they experience intimate violence (Hoff, 1990). This fear is far
from irrational. Indeed, the greatest likelihood of serious injury and death occurs
after women have left their violent partners
(Saltzman et al., 1990). Women are not
adequately protected from violence by the
state. In particular, Hispanic and MricanAmerican women are likely to be discouraged from calling on the police or Anglodominated social services for protection
(Ashbury, 1993; Gandolf, Fisher, & Mcferron, 1988). As a result, continued educational work with law enforcement and court
officials is necessary to transform the cultural "common sense" that contains racist
and sexist beliefs and practices.
One area of controversy in intimate violence involves the question of violence
against men by women. While some family
systems sociologists engage in national surveys and find virtually identical levels of violence between men and women in families
(Berk, Berk, Loseke, & Rauma, 1983; Gelles
& Straus, 1988), hospital, police, survey, and
homicide data all indicate that women are

Direct Violence

26
hanned by intimate violence in vastly
greater proportions than are men. As Gelles
writes:
Unfortunately, almost all of those who try to
make the case that there are as many battered men as battered women tend to omit
or reduce to a parenthetical phrase the fact
that no matter how much violence there is
or who initiates the violence, women are as
much as 10 times more likely than men to
be injured in acts of domestic violence.
It is quite clear that men are struck by
their wives. It is also clear that because these
men are typically larger than their wives and
usually have more social resources at their
command, that they do not have as much
physical or social damage inflicted on them
as is inflicted on women. (1997, p. 93)
Thus, while the issue of violence against
men has been controversial and heated
within sociological discourse and popular
culture, the fact that men encounter violence inflicted by women does not erase gendered power relations of intimate violence.
Still, it is important to recognize the reality
that men are beaten, and that gender is not
the sole determinant of violent behavior.

MOVING INTO THE TWENTY-FIRST
CENTURY: EXPANDING
THE DISCOURSE
Feminist research on intimate violence contributes a great deal to an understanding of
the patriarchal structures that produce intimate violence. Clearly, cultural constructions of gender playa central role in such violence. Gender is not, however, the entire
explanatory framework necessary for intimate violence. Men are sometimes victims
of intimate violence in heterosexual couples. And, violence occurs in gay and lesbian relationships (Letellier, 1994; Renzetti
& Miley, 1996). While international perspectives on intimate violence highlight the

importance of gender inequality (Walker,
1999), we must both acknowledge the importance of gender and avoid the insistence
that gender is the only important dynamic
underlying intimate violence.
Further, this new discourse must somehow bind more adequately sociological
and psychological approaches to violence.
That is, psychological factors contributing
to violence must be understood in a sociocultural context. For example, Dutton
(1994) takes us in the wrong direction
when he suggests that gay and lesbian violence demonstrates the explanatory power
of psychological rather than social-structural factors (such as gender) in intimate
violence. A strictly psychological approach
to intimate violence is akin to attempting
to solve the problems of war through personality theories and counseling. No
doubt, psychological processes are important in making sense of intimate violence,
but psychological processes are wrapped
in cultural practices and power relation
structures.
How can we expand the discourse? Renzetti (1997) provides an example, integrating power relations and social structure in
her discussion of internalized homophobia
as it relates to violence in gay and lesbian
couples. In this regard, she writes:
Internalized homophobia occurs when gay
men and lesbians accept heterosexual society's negative evaluations of them and incorporate them into their self concepts . . .
Clinicians report that internalized homophobia causes homosexuals to experience
lowered self-esteem, feelings of powerlessness, obsessive closeting of sexual orientation, denial of difference between themselves and heterosexuals, and self-destructive
behavior such as substance abuse. It may also
lead to aggression against members of one's
own group, which could take the form of
partner abuse. Thus, societal homophobia (a

Intimate Violence
social structural variable) generates internalized homophobia (a psychological variable),
which, in tum, may lead to partner abuse in
same-sex relationships. (1997, p. 290)

Alternatively, or in addition, the psychological profile of a dependent and
controlling batterer across lines of sexual
preference and gender may also represent individual-level manifestations of social structural values, that is, socialization
in cultural traditions valuing control and
dominance.
Bodies are the vessels through which
systems of inequality are achieved and maintained. Bodies that are hacked apart and
stomped on interpersonally and institutionally produce and reinforce inequality. At
the same time, violence cannot be solely understood in relation to power. That is, psychological factors interact with sociological

27
variables in relation to intimate violence.
Sociological discourse is not easily melded
with that of psychology, and yet, an expanded discourse on intimate violence requires just such a move. The danger in relying too heavily on psychological approaches
to intimate violence is that it misses the "big
picture,· the social structures in and through
which people act. On the other hand, the
danger in relying solely on sociological explanations for violence is that it may overgeneralize structural categories as explanations for
violence and miss out on individual-level variables that contribute to violent behavior in
intimate relationships. The problem of intimate violence requires that we develop a
new, integrated language for explaining and
understanding the dynamics underlying such
violence: a language that weaves together
psychological and sociological approaches to
intimate violence.

CHAPTER 2

ANTI-GAy/LESBIAN VIOLENCE
IN THE UNITED STATES
Bianca Cody Murphy

During the Gulf War, a Los Angeles delicatessen oumed IIy an Arab-American was set ablaze. Before igniting
thefire the arsonists scribbled a message on a wall ·Yau Fuckin' Arab, go home. "
On December 19, 1986, a group of white teenagers in Howard Beach shouting "There's niggers on the
boulevard. Let:S kill them, " chased three black men. One escaped, another was severely beaten, and a third was
beaten and while trying to escape his pursuers he was run uuer by car on the Belt ParltwlGj.
In 1990, in Madison, Wisconsin, unidentified vandals smashed the winduws and cut the brake lines of
a bus that was supposed to takeJewish children to a day camp. The sabotage was discovered but the climate of
anti-Semitism became so dangerous in Madison that armed police had to be stationed outside local synagogues
during Rosh Hashanah.

HATE CRIMES
Violent acts, such as those described above
by Jack Levin andJack McDevitt (1993), are
often called hate crimes. "Hate crimes are
words or actions intended to harm or intimidate an individual because of her or his
membership in a minority group; they include violent assaults, murder, rape, and
property crimes motivated by prejudice, as
well as threats of violence and other acts of
intimidation" (Finn & McNeil, 1987, p. 2).
In the United States, hate crimes are committed against racial, ethnic, religious, and
sexual minorities. According to official reports, racial bias results in approximately 60
percent of all hate crimes in the United
States, with African-Americans being the
most vulnerable to hate crimes. Crimes com-

28

mitted against people because of their religious affiliation rank second, while crimes
committed against people because of their
sexual orientation rank third. It should be
noted that according to FBI statistics, most
hate crimes based on religion are property
crimes directed at religious institutions, i.e.,
vandalism of synagogues, churches, and
cemeteries (Garofalo, 1997). Formal reports
from the Department of Justice and other
law enforcement agencies as well as informal
reports from such groups as the Southern
Poverty Law Center's Klanwatch, the AntiDefamation League, and the National Coalition of Anti-Violence Programs indicate that
hate and bias crimes and acts of violence are
on the rise.
Hate violence is a form of terrorism. Hate
violence traumatizes not only the direct

Anti-Gay/Les~ian

Violence in the United States

victim but all members of the targeted
group. Richard Berk, Elizabeth Boyd, and
Karl Hamner (1992) note that a key ingredient of hate-motivated violence is the "symbolic status of the victim" (p. 127). As Greg
Herek points out, bias crimes "are especially
serious because they potentially victimize an
entire class of people ... they assail the victim's identity and intimidate other group
members" (1989, p. 948).

ANTI-GAY/LESBIAN HATE CRIMES:
OVERT, DIRECT, EPISODIC VIOLENCE
In Nashville, Tennessee vandals ransacked
the home of a gay minister, scrawling
"homo' and "fag" on his possessions. (National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, 1989)
In Los Angeles, a man yelling "sick
mother-fucker" threw a beaker of acid into the
face of a lesbian employee of the local Gay and
Lesbian Community SeIVices Center. (National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, 1986)
A 21-year-old University of Wyoming
student was pistol whipped and then left
lashed to a fence in the near freezing cold
outside of Laramie. He was found after 10
hours and died after five days in a coma.
Gay men and lesbian women, as well as
other sexual minorities, including bisexual
and transgendered men and women, are frequent targets of hate crimes in the United
States. The Southern Poverty Law Center
has estimated that gay men and lesbians are
six times as likely to be physically attacked as
Jews and Hispanics in America, and twice as
likely as Mrican Americans. Valerie Jenness
and Kendal Broad note: "By many accounts,
violence motivated by homophobia and heterosexism represents the most visible, violent, and culturally legitimated type of 'hate
crime' in this country" (1994, p. 402). (See
Comstock, 1991, for a good historical review
of the ebbs and flows of anti-gay/lesbian violence in the United States.)

29
Official statistics on hate crimes are an
inaccurate measure of anti-gay lesbian violence. Many gay men and lesbian women do
not report verbal harassment or physical violence against them to the authorities because
they fear that they will be subjected to secondary victimization at the hands of police or
others who may learn of their sexual orientation and subject the victim to a second round
of mistreatment (Herek & BerolI, 1992).
Greg Herek, Roy Gillis, Jeanine Cogan, and
Eric Glunt (1997) found that while approximately two-thirds of lesbian and gay victims
of non-bias crimes reported the incident to
law enforcement authorities, only about onethird of the hate crime victims did so. In a
study on sexual orientation hate crimes
in Los Angeles, Edward Dunbar (1998) reported that gay and lesbian people of color
were both more likely to be victimized and
less likely to report the hate act than European white gay men and lesbian women.
On November 11, 1996, a young gay teenage boy, who had just come out to a friend
earlier that morning, was verbally harassed
and physically assaulted by three youths as
he walked home from school. He sustained
injuries to his neck, head, and chest from
being kicked, punched, and spit upon for
being a "sissy" and "a fucking fag." He told
his parents that he received the injuries during a soccer game. (National Coalition of
Anti-Violence Programs, 1997)
In El Paso, Texas, a gay man was assaulted by his cousin, brother, and father
during a wedding reception because of his
sexual orientation. The man drove himself
to the hospital for x-rays and emergency
treatment. When asked why he was there, he
told a male nurse what had happened and
was advised not to disclose his sexual orientation to anyone else at the hospital because
"they won't treat you right.' The victim declined to report either incident to the police
or hospital administration. (National Coalition of Anti-Violence Programs, 1997)

30
Since official statistics only record those
who have reported the attack, many researchers survey samples of gay and lesbian
communities to determine the rates of hate
violence. Reviewing these surveys, Greg
Herek (1989) reports as many as 92 percent
of lesbian women and gay men responded
that they have been the targets of anti-gay
verbal abuse or threats, and as many as 24
percent report physical attacks because of
their sexual orientation. In a survey of Sacramento-area adults, Herek, et al (1997) found
that, since age 16, 11 percent had experienced assault with a weapon, based on their
sexual orientation; 14 percent had experienced assault without a weapon; 17 percent
vandalism; 45 percent had been threatened
with violence; 32 percent had been chased or
followed; 33 percent had objects thrown at
them; and the overwhelming m~ority had
been verbally harassed. However, Herek and
his colleagues (Herek & BerriIl, 1992; Herek,
Gillis, Cogan, & Glunt, 1997) note the
methodological problems of these types of
self-report surveys, including memory limitations, difficulties in question interpretation,
and variations in how one decides if a crime
was motivated by sexual orientation. Furthermore, most studies of anti-gay/lesbian violence have adults as their subjects. (For a discussion of violence against lesbian and gay
youth see Hershberger and D'AugeIIi, 1995.)

CHARACTERISTICS OF ANTI-GAY/
LESBIAN HATE VIOLENCE
A number of studies have been conducted
to understand the nature of hate crimes.
These studies have focused on the characteristics of the perpetrators and the circumstances in which hate crimes occur.
1. The perpetrators of anti-gay/lesbian violence (and most hate crimes) are pre-

Direct Violence

dominately male teenagers and young
adults (Herek et al., 1997; LeBlanc,
1991). In a survey of almost 500
community college students, Karen
Franklin (1998) found that 18 percent
of the men said that they had physically assaulted or threatened someone
they thought was gay or lesbian compared to 4 percent of the women.
Thirty-two percent of the men and 17
percent of the women said that they
were guilty of verbal harassment.
2. Anti-gay/lesbian violence frequently
happens in groups (Comstock, 1991;
Garofalo & Martin, 1993). Groups increase violence through social contagion (LeBon, 1896) and deindividuation (Festinger, Pepitone, & Newcomb,
1952; Zimbardo, 1970). People in
groups don't feel personally responsible
for their behavior-often thinking, "It
is the group, not me, who is doing this."
3. The targets of anti-gay and lesbian attacks are often unknown to the perpetrator and chosen at random (Garofalo
& Martin, 1993; Lane, 1990). This randomness may make it harder for the
person to cope with the consequences
than if he or she was a victim of some
other crime. Victims may feel that there
is nothing they could have done to prevent the attack, especially since .they
were attacked for something over which
they feel they have no control and
which may be a key aspect of their personal identity-their sexual orientation
(Garnetts, Herek, & Levy, 1990; Herek,
Gillis, Cogan, & Glunt, 1997).
4. Anti-gay/lesbian violence is particularly
brutal. Kevin Berrill, formerly the director of the Anti-Violence Project of the
National Gay and Lesbian Task Force
(NGLTF), reports that homosexual
murder victims are less likely to be shot

Anti-Gay!Lesbian Violence in the United States

than to be "stabbed a dozen or more
times, mutilated and strangled" (Miller
& Humphreys, 1980, cited in Berrill,
1992, p. 25). The director of Victim Services at Bellevue Hospital in New York
City has stated that "attacks against gay
men were the most heinous and brutal I
encountered. They frequently involved
torture, cutting, mutilation and beating, and showed the absolute intent to
rub out the human being because of his
[sexual] preference" (M. Mertz, cited in
Berrill, 1992, p. 25).

STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE AGAINST
GAY MEN AND LESBIAN WOMEN
But overt acts of violence against lesbian
women and gay men are only the most visible and heinous offenses in a pattern of discrimination and oppression. Gay men and
lesbian women face structural violence as well
as direct episodic violence. The structural
violence against gay men and lesbian
women is the result ofheterosexism. Herek
(1992) defines heterosexism as "an ideological system that denies, denigrates, and
stigmatizes any nonheterosexual form of
behavior, identity, relationship, or community" (p. 89). Herek distinguishes between
psychological heterosexism which is manifested "in individual attitudes and behaviors" and cultural heterosexism which is manifested "in societal customs and institutions,
such as religion and the legal system" (p.
89). It is this cultural heterosexism that results in structural violence against lesbian
women and gay men.
As a result of cultural heterosexism, gay
men, lesbian women, and other sexual minorities suffer discrimination in many areas,
including housing and employment.
Margarethe Cammemeyer, a Bronze..Star
winner and 28-year military veteran, was dis-

31
missed from the army despite a stellar record
of service to her country (Cathcart, 1998).
Sherry Barone faced a cold-hearted
cemetery which refused to include the epitaph "life partner" on the tombstone of her
late partner, Cynthia Friedman, despite a
legally executed request by Cynthia to do so.
(Cathcart, 1998)

Only ten states currently offer civil rights
jlrotections to lesbian women and gay men. In
most states, they have no legal recourse if
they are discriminated against. In the last 20
years, with the rise of the gay rights movement, there have been attempts to pass legislation that would protect gay and lesbian civil
rights. However, for every effort to increase
protections for gay and lesbian civil rights,
there have been countermoves to take them
away. A recent Vatican statement to U.S.
bishops supports discrimination against gay
men and lesbian women and urges Catholics
to oppose the passage of civil rights for gay
men and lesbian women. In 1992, the state of
Colorado passed a referendum which prohibits the state and all its agencies from acting on any claim of discrimination by a lesbian or gay man. (Note that the Supreme
Court has issued an injunction against it.)
That same year, a stronger initiative in Oregon stating that public institutions including
the schools "shall assist in setting a standard
for Oregon's youth that recognizes homosexuality ... as aJmorma~ wrong, unnatural and
perverse and . .. to be discouraged and avoided"
[italics added] was defeated but received support from 44 percent of the voters. And, in
1998, opponents of lesbian/gay civil rights
successfully sought to repeal a gay civil rights
law in Maine.
Not only do gay men and lesbian
women have few laws to protect them from
discrimination, but many laws themselves
are discriminatory. Gary Comstock (1991)
points out that U.S. laws have enabled legal-

32
ized violence against homosexuals. In the
past, sodomy laws made same-gendered sex
punishable by the death penalty. Although
capital punishment for same-sex relations
was removed' from the books and corporal
punishment is no longer in use, engaging in
same-gender sexual acts is still illegal in 22
states. In 1986, the Supreme Court upheld
the right of states to prosecute adults for engaging in consensual sexual acts with each
other in the privacy of their own home
(Bowers vs. Hardwick, 1986).
In addition to legal sanctions against
lesbians and gays for engaging in same sex
acts, there are other discriminatory laws. Gay
men and lesbian women have no legal right
to marry. Laws prohibit them from disclosing their sexual orientation in the military.
They can be denied family health insurance
policies and visiting rights in hospitals since
they are not legally "family members."

SOME PSYCHOLOGICAL
EXPlANATIONS OF ANTI-GAY/
LESBIAN VIOLENCE
Psychologists have a long history of attempting to understand what causes prejudice
and violence. These approaches have focused primarily on intrapsychic and interpersonal psychological processes.

Authoritarian Personalities
In keeping with psychology's emphasis on understanding individual behaviors, one of the
earliest explanations of prejudice was based
on individual personality. People who were
prejudiced shared characteristics referred to
as an authoritarian personality (Adorno,
Frenkel-Brunswik, Levinson, & Sanford,
1950). The characteristics included a submissiveness to the authority of the ingroup, a
tendency to punish others who violated conventional values, preoccupation with domi-

Direct Violence

nance, exaggerated concern with sex and repression of sexual feeling, and rigid thinking.
While it may be argued that the leaders of organized hate groups may demonstrate these
"authoritarian" characteristics, very little research has been done on the perpetrators of
anti-gay/lesbian hate crimes.

Frustration, Scapegoating,
and Realistic Group Conflict
Another early psychological explanation of
prejudice and aggression comes from the
work of John Dollard and his colleagues at
Yale University (Dollard, Doob, Miller,
Mowrer, & Sears, 1939). They suggested a
theory of scapegoating or displaced aggression:
Frustrated people often direct their anger
toward members of another group. Racial
prejudice, for example, was seen as related
to economic insecurity. Between 1882 and
1930, there were more lynchings of MricanAmericans in the South in years when cotton prices were low (Hovland & Sears,
1940).
Related to the frustration-aggression
theory, is Muzafer Sherifs (1966) realistic
conflict theory (RCT). The realistic group conflict theory can be seen in Levin and McDevitt's (1993) description of zero-sum thinking. "They view two or more individuals or
groups as striving for the same scarce goals,
with the success of one automatically implying a reduced probability that others will attain their goals ... Zero-sum thinking engages the individual in a competitive
struggle to upgrade himself and downgrade
others" (pp. 54-55), which can set the scene
for hate violence. For example, Jeanine
Cogan (1996) suggests that marginalized
groups, the poor, immigrants. ethnic minorities. and sexual minorities are being
scapegoated by society-at-large for the growing disparity between the very rich and the
rest of society in the United States. "The vic-

Anti-Gay/Lesbian Violence in the United States

tims are blamed for the offender's personal
or economic plight" (Spillane, 1994, p. 245).

Social Identity Theory and Ingroup Bias
According to social identity theory (Tajfel &
Turner, 1986), people have both an individual and a social identity. Seeing one's group
as superior increases personal self-esteem.
People have a tendency to enhance their
self-esteem by evaluating more favorably the
groups to which they belong (ingroups)
compared to other groups (outgroups).
Simply being placed in a group can create
ingroup bias. Michael Billig and Henri
Tajfel (1973) found that even if the us-them
categorization is based on trivial issues, such
as the toss of a coin, people still favor their
own group.
Ingroup bias means favoring one's own
group, but it can also, although not always,
mean devaluing the other. A sense of belonging and comradeship increases when
there is a common enemy. Studies have
shown that those ingroup members who
have an experience which lowers their self
esteem, are more likely to highly rate the ingroup and denigrate the outgroup (Cialdini
& Richardson, 1980). Bias against the outgroup is also more common if there are social supports for degrading the outgroup. In
the United States there are social, religious,
political, and legal supports for prejudice
against gay men and lesbian women.
Karl Hamner (1992) suggests that the
tendency to devalue the other is particularly
true of specific members of an ingroup who
have low ingroup status. "This may help to
explain the young age of man gay-bashers ...
young people often have not yet had sufficient chance to achieve their own status.
Consequently, they tum to group identification and social comparison to boost their
self esteem" (p. 185). Joseph Harry (1992)
suggests that "gay-bashing offers a nearly

33
ideal solution to the status needs of the immature male ... It provides immediate status rewards in the eyes of one's peers because, unlike verbal reports of sexual
conquest, it provides direct and corroborated evidence of one's virility" (p. ll5).

Theories about Anti-Gay/Lesbian
Attitude Formation
Much of the psychological research specifically focused on anti-gay/lesbian violence
has been on attitude formation. The majority of people in the United States see gay
men and lesbian women as sick, immoral,
or criminal (Davis & Smith, 1984). In a
study that distinguished between attitudes
toward lesbian women and gay men, Herek
(1988) reported that 68 percent ofrespondents agreed with the statement that "sex
between two men is just plain wrong" and
64 percent said that they agreed with the
statement that "sex between two women is
just plain wrong." Over two-thirds (69.9 percent) agreed with the statement "I think
male homosexuals are disgusting," and 59.9
percent agreed with the statement "I think
lesbians are disgusting." Attitudes toward
gay men and lesbian women have changed
over time. According to a 1997 Gallup Poll,
84 percent of the population believe that
homosexuals should have equal job opportunities, but 59 percent believe that homosexual behavior is morally wrong (Berke,
August 2, 1998).
Early psychological research on antigay/lesbian bias studied the correlations between negative attitudes toward gay men
and lesbian women and other personal
characteristics. Mary Kite (1984) offers a
nice summary of these early studies.
(P)eople who hold negative attitudes toward
homosexuals are likely to support the maintenance of traditional sex roles ... , are
more likely to stereotype the sexes than

34

Direct Violence
those who hold positive attitudes ... , and
favor preserving the double standard between men and women ... (are) less likely to
know a homosexual ... may be status conscious, authoritarian, and sexually rigid....
(Others) reported a strong positive correlation between attitudes toward women and attitudes toward homosexual and reported
that negative attitudes toward homosexuals
are positively correlated with negative attitudes toward blacks. (pp.69-70)

Other studies showed that men exhibit
significantly more negative attitudes toward homosexuals than do women (Nyberg & Alston, 1976-1977). Men are more
negative toward gay men than they are toward lesbian women, whereas women are
no more negative toward lesbian women
than they are toward gay men. (Kite &
Whitley, 1998)
Herek (1984) has defined three functions of attitudes towards homosexuals: ego
defensive, experiential, and symbolic. The
function of ego defensive attitudes can be seen
in the use of the term "homophobia." It is
commonly believed that those who hold
negative attitudes toward gay men and lesbian women do so because they feel personally threatened by their own unconscious
conflicts about either sexual orientation or
gender identity. From a psychodynamic perspective, prejudiced attitudes toward gay
men and lesbian women serve to decrease
tension aroused by these unconscious conflicts. Franklin (1998) found that many of
the perpetrators in her study reported assaulting gay men and lesbian women "to
prove their masculine identity by displaying
toughness and an endorsement of heterosexuality" (p. 4).
Experiential attitudes are based on past interactions with known homosexuals. "Experiential attitudes develop when affects and
cognitions associated with specific interpersonal interactions are generalized to allies-

bians and gay men" (Herek, 1984, p. 8).
Herek notes that most people develop their
beliefs about gay men and lesbian women
from stereotypes and ignorance without any
contact with gay men and lesbian women.
Franklin found that the largest number of
assailants in her study claimed that they
were reacting to perceived advances by a
person. "Assailants interpret their victims'
words and actions based on their belief that
homosexuals are sexual predators .... once
someone is labeled as homosexual, any
glance or conversation by that person is perceived as sexual flirtation. Flirtation, in
turn, is viewed as a legitimate reason to assault" (1998, p. 3).
Symbolic attitudes are ways of expressing
abstract ideological concepts that are closely
linked to one's notion of self and to one's
social network and reference groups. Symbolic attitudes are developed through socialization. "(E)xpressing their attitudes reinforces their self-conceptions publicly,
identifies them with important reference
groups, and probably elicits acceptance or
avoids rejection from significant others"
(Herek, 1984, p. 12). This is similar to
Franklin's finding that many of the perpetrators she studied reported assaulting gay
men and lesbian women because of "ideology," viewing themselves "as social norm enforcers who are punishing moral transgressions" (1998, p. 3).

A POLITICAL EXPLANATION
OF ANTI-GAY/LESBIAN VIOLENCE
Anti-gay/lesbian violence is complicated
and multi-faceted with numerous, interacting causes. Psychological theories provide
useful ways of understanding anti-gay/Iesbian violence from an intrapsychic and interpersonal perspective. However, psychological explanations are not sufficient. A
political analysis of violence against lesbian

Anti-Gay/Lesbian Violence in the United States
women, gay men, and other sexual minorities considers power dynamics and social institutions rather than just individual attitudes and behaviors.
A feminist perspective understands violence against lesbian women and gay men
in terms of gender politics. Gay men and
lesbian women (as well as other sexual minorities, most notably transgendered men
and women) are seen as gender outlaws
who threaten male patriarchal hegemony.
In a very clear and articulate argument,
Suzanne Pharr (1988) says that homophobia is "a weapon of sexism. "Heterosexism and
homophobia serve misogyny and sexism.
Heterosexist attitudes and institutions keep
women in subordinate relation to men, preserving male dominance and female dependence. Heterosexism maintains the view
that women need men to function properly,
to be fulfilled and secure. Women bonding
together in any way that threatens male
dominance and control-political, economic, or sexual-are at serious risk of retaliation. Homophobia is the ultimate
weapon against women's empowerment.
Pharr argues that gay men are also perceived as a threat to male dominance by
"breaking rank with male heterosexual solidarity" and "causing a damaging rent in the
very fabric of sexism," as they are "betrayers,"
"traitors ... who must be punished and eliminated" (1988, p. 18). Gay men threaten
white male supremacy because they challenge what it means "to be a man." This idea
is supported by the fact that "gay men who
described themselves as 'a little feminine' or
'very feminine' were twice as likely as other
gays to experience gay bashing" (Harry,
1992, p.1l9).
Children learn the penalties of being
gender non-confO'rming at a young age. They
are harassed at school and in the playground. The link between gender non-conformity and anti-gay and lesbian violence it

35
quite apparent. "Anti-gay slurs target nonaggressive boys, tomboyish girls, children
with lesbian or gay parents, and even children who befriend these youngsters. Surveys of school children indicate that anti-gay
slurs are the most dreaded form of harassment" (Franklin, 1998, p. 6).
Barbara Perry (1998) has studied hate
groups and ideologies of power in the
United States. She maintains that hate
groups are based on preserving "the hegemony of white, . heterosexual, Christian,
male power" (p. 32). "The conclusion that
hate activists reach is that it is not minorities who are oppressed and persecuted, but
the shrinking white majority" (p. 47). Gay
men and lesbian women are seen as threatening the continued survival of the white
race because it is assumed that they recruit
youth, do not reproduce, and spread AIDS.
"Those who recruit for homosexual sodomy
are a factor pushing us ever closer to the
edge of racial suicide" (Strom, online cited
in Perry, 1998, p. 25). "White race faces certain extinction in the near future, unless we
identify and destroy our executioners"
(Northern Thunder cited in Perry, 1998,
p.47).
Only a small percentage of anti-gay/lesbian violence is committed by members of
hate groups (Garofalo, 1997). But, incendiary hate group rhetoric, combined with cultural heterosexism, create the context in
which individual acts of violence against gay
men and lesbian women occur; a cultural
context in which people can '1ustify" or
"downplay" the violent acts they commit.
Many people who would find racist and sexist jokes offensive have no trouble with antigay/lesbian humor. Our legal system has
said that we must protect the "civil rights" of
racial, ethnic, religious, and gender minorities but that gay men and lesbian women do
not need "special privileges." Schools recognize the need to "teach tolerance" but find

Direct Violence

36
anti-bias curricula controversial because it is
assumed that any conversation about gay
and lesbian issues--even anti-bias workwould talk about and thus promote sex.
A feminist analysis of anti-gay and lesbian violence means looking at all fonns of
oppression, those based on class, race, ethnicity, age, gender, disability, religion, as well
as sexual orientation. While gay men, lesbian women, and other minorities do not
threaten the survival of white men, they are
in fact a threat to white, able-bodied, heterosexual, patriarchal rule-a threat to patriarchy, not men.

RESPONSES TO ANTI-GAY/
LESBIAN VIOLENCE

Legal Responses
One of the first responses to anti-gaylIesbian violence has been what Valene Jenness
and Ryken Grattet (1996) refer to as "the
criminalization of hate." There are currently two federal hate crime laws, and numerous state hate crime statutes.
The Hate Crimes Statistics Act (P.L. 101275), which became law in 1990, requires the
U.S. Department ofJustice to maintain statistics on hate crimes. However, it doesn't require local or state agencies to report the statistics to the FBI, nor does it provide any
funds to local police agencies or the FBI to
help with this task. The second federal law,
The Hate Crimes Sentencing Enhancement
Act, (P.L. 103-322), requires that the U.S.
Sentencing Commission provide sentencing
enhancements for crimes that are determined beyond a reasonable doubt to be hate
crimes. This only applies to hate crimes committed on federal property, but many states
have sentencing enhancement acts. Congress is currently considering the Hate
Crimes Prevention Act ofl998 (S.l529/H.R
3081) which would amend current federal

criminal civil rights laws to provide authority
for federal officials to investigate and prosecute cases in which the violence occurs because of a victim's gender, sexual orientation, or disability. However this law is also
provoking much controversy.
There has been a struggle to include
sexual orientation in hate crimes legislation
on both the federal and state level. Fortyone states have hate crimes statutes; however, only 19 states and the District of Columbia include sexual orientation. This is
significant given the fact that the largest
number of prosecutions for hate crimes occurs at the state level (Spillane, 1994).
There are a number of problems with
current hate crimes legislation. It is often difficult to tell what is and what isn't a hate
crime (Berk, Boyd, & Hamner, 1992; Gerstenfeld, 1992). Not all jurisdictions are required to report hate crimes. Many gay men
and lesbian women fear secondary victimization if they disclose their sexual orientation
(Berrill & Herek, 1992). Enhancement laws
may in fact increase hostility (Gerstenfeld,
1992). Finally, calling anti-gay harassment a
hate crime puts it into the jurisdiction of the
criminal justice system, "which may not be
well prepared to deal with deep-seated intergroup animosities" (Garofalo, 1997, p. 142)
However, hate crime legislation does
send a symbolic message. "The laws then
serve a symbolic purpose, and the punishment
of offenders acts as a denunciation of their
evil acts ... The primary difference between
symbolism and denunciation is that symbolism focuses on the law itself, whereas denunciation focuses on the punishment for violating the law" (Gerstenfeld, 1992, p. 267).

Social Responses
Levin and McDevitt assert there is "a growing culture of hate; from humor and music to
religion and politics, a person's group affili-

Anti-Gay/Lesbian Violence in the United States

ation-the fact that he or she diffm from peo-

ple in the ingrou~is being used more and
more to provide a basis for dehumanizing
and insulting the person" (1993, p. 34).
Rather than helping counteract the growing
culture of hate, the media contributes to its
spread. Eliminating portrayals of others that
are racist, sexist, ableist, ageist, and heterosexist would be an important step toward reducing hate crimes in U.S. society.
The contact hypothesis suggests contact between members of hostile groups will reduce
intergroup hostility. Allport (1979) notes
that intergroup contact decreases hostility
between groups when it meets four necessary
conditions: "Prejudice (unless deeply rooted
in the character structure of the individual)
may be reduced by equal status contact between majority and minority groups in the
pursuit of common goals. The effect is
greatly enhanced if this contact is sanctioned
by institutional supports (Le., by law, custom
or local atmosphere), and provided it is of a
sort that leads to the perception of common
interests and common humanity between
members of the two groups· (p. 231).
Numerous studies have shown that heterosexuals who have more contact with lesbian women and gay men have more positive attitudes toward them than those who
believe they have not had contact or do not
know lesbian women or gay men (Herek &
Capitanio, 1996). Gay men and lesbian
women can be encouraged to come out to
others, breaking stereotypes, and fighting
the forces that would keep them hidden
and invisible. (See Niens and Cairns in this
volume for a further elaboration of contact
theory.)

Educational Responses
It is possible to change social norms through
educational campaigns. Schools can combat
the dominant cultural norm that says that it

37
is okay to harass someone for being different. Franklin suggests a "(p}roactive intervention against school based harassment
and violence. Anti-bias curricula must be introduced as early as kindergarten and must
continue through high school" (1998, p. 8).
Anti-bias curricula help teachers learn how
to recognize such violence and intervene to
eliminate it. Children are taught how to
work collaboratively, how to have empathy
for others, and how to handle feelings of
frustration and anger.
Many teenage perpetrators of antigay/lesbian violence are thrill seekers who
commit crimes because of frustration
and boredom (Levin & McDevitt, 1993;
Franklin, 1998). Mterschool programs and
activities that provide activities and challenges for adolescents may help decrease all
forms of crimes by giving adolescents the
chance to develop new skills and feel a
sense of opportunity and hopefulness.

Combating Interlocking
Systems of Oppression
through Coalition Building
Valerie Jenness and Kendal Broad (1994)
note that, "Unlike feminist activism around
violence against women ... activism around
anti-gay and lesbian violence has ignored
patriarchy and the gender relations that sustain and reflect it" (p. 419). They cite the
work of Carole Sheffield who notes that the
"linkage between race-hate, gay-hate, and
misogyny is evident" (1987, p. 89), and
point out that gay and lesbian anti-violence
activism rarely recognizes the centrality of
race and gender.
Anti-lesbian/ gay violence must be understood within the context of interlocking
systems of oppression. Structural violence
against racial and ethnic minorities and the
poor creates an environment ripe for all
kinds of frustration and aggression. The

38
widening gap between the rich and poor in
the United States and the sense of despair
that it engenders create a context in which
violence becomes endemic. A more equitable society in which individuals do not feel
that they are competing with others for a
smaller piece of the pie will help to decrease frustration and aggression.

CONCLUSION
As the United States enters the twenty-first
century, hate crimes and violence against
racial, ethnic, religious, and sexual minorities are on the rise. Anti-gay/lesbian violence is similar to violence against other minority groups but differs in some important
ways. Anti-gay/Iesbian violence is more socially sanctioned. The structural violence of
sodomy laws and other discriminatory laws
creates a context that supports the dehumanization and demonizing of gay men and
lesbian women. Lesbian women and gay
men are more likely than other minority
group members to experience physical assaults and attacks that are particularly vicious. Anti-gay/Iesbian violence seems to be

Direct Violence

rooted more in gender politics than difference politics, although racial politics have
an effect.
While a psychological perspective offers
us some understanding of what contributes
to individual attitudes and behaviors, we
must not ignore the political nature of antilesbian/gay violence and all hate crimes. If
the twenty-first century is to see a reduction
in hate crimes and violence, then it is essential that people (1) attend to structural violence and the social and power dynamics of
the patriarchal system in which such violence occurs; (2) recognize that much of
what is considered anti-gay/lesbian violence
is in fact based on gender politics; (3) acknowledge and affinn the incredible diversity in the lesbian and gay communities in
tenns of race, ethnicity, age, class, education, disability, and political ideology;
(4) use our psychological knowledge to construct interventions to prevent all forms
of violence; and, (5) work in coalitions
with other oppressed groups using our
strengths and training in human behavior
and systems theories to create radical social
change.

CHAPTER 3

INTRASTATE VIOLENCE
Ulrike Niens and Ed Cairns

Despite the fact that the Cold War has
ended, the world faces a new problem that
threatens global peace and security. This is
because "fierce new assertions of nationalism and sovereignty" have sprung up and
the world is threatened by "brutal ethnic,
religious, social, cultural, or linguistic strife"
(Boutro~Ghali, 1992). Not all of these are
strictly new conflicts, because while the end
of the Cold War has spawned many of them,
it has also aggravated others, and exposed
older ones as essentially ethnic rather than
between hostile political ideologies. Unlike
international wars, the combatants in ethnic
conflicts inhabit the same battlefield. Therefore, even when the actual fighting fades,
their lives are intermeshed with those of
their opponents. As a consequence, intrastate violence is often characterized by viciousness rather than by the more impassive
slaughter of international wars. Group loyalty and the maintenance of group boundaries are dominant features of such conflicts, as are communal memories of
victimization. Together they create psychological processes that contribute to further
violence and genocide.
This chapter will examine the contributions that psychology has made, and can
make, to understanding intrastate/intergroup conflict, through an examination of

the three most influential theories in this
area, and in particular the attempts that
have been made to use these theories to understand one such conflict-that in Northern Ireland. This will be followed by a brief
review of psychology's contributions to the
management and resolution of such conflicts. Again we will attempt to set this work
within the context of Northern Ireland.

THEORETICAL EXPLANATIONS
FOR INTERGROUP CONFLICT
Background
In the late 1950s and early 1960s psychological explanations for intergroup conflict
were based largely on psychodynamic thinking, tested mostly by researchers from the
United States. These theories contained
ideas often loosely based on the notion of
the displacement of aggression.
Using this basic idea, theories have been
developed to explain intergroup conflict involving unconscious processes such as projection and scapegoating. Other more complex schemes have hypothesized the
development of a particular personality type,
central to which is authoritarianism, which in
tum is related to outgroup hostility. Put simply, these theories see the attitudes and

39

40
behavior of people towards outgroups as
"ways of working out individual emotional
problems in an intergroup setting" (Tajfel,
1978). One might think of this as a sort of sophisticated group form of "kicking the cat"
These views of intergroup conflict based on
some form of individual pathology became
very popular, especially after the Second
World War when people were trying to come
to terms with the horrors of the Holocaust
In the 1970s, however, European psychologists in particular began to be disenchanted by this approach. While acknowledging that these ideas might playa role in
explaining interpersonal conflict, the problem was how to extrapolate directly from interpersonal conflict to intergroup conflict.
These social psychologists suggest that although the primary explanation for intergroup conflict is psychological, anyone who
has studied an identity-based conflict knows
that other factors also playa role. In Northern Ireland, for example, where people derive part of their self-concept from identifying with one of the two rival communities,
factors such as religion, history, demography, politics, and economics are also important to understanding the conflict.
The development of a new theory,
known as social identity theory, overcame
many of the theoretical problems inherent
in theories of the displacement of agression
(Tajfel & Turner, 1986). Social identity theory has several advantages over earlier theories in that it: (1) is firmly based in social
theory, (2) makes no assumptions about abnormality or irrationality, (3) leaves room
for the role of other disciplines, such as politics, history, religion, and demography, and
(4) has informed the debate over cures as
well as causes of social conflict.
Before considering these issues in more
detail, the present chapter will review two
other major theories that psychologists have
used to explain intergroup conflict. The

Direct Violence

first of these is authoritarian personality theory, which is a more sophisticated version of
earlier Freudian theories, and the second is
relative deprivation theory (RDT). Both of
these theories are important for their
heuristic value. We will then focus on social
identity theory (SIT) in more detail, including some relatively new ideas about how it
may be possible to incorporate the other
theories into SIT and so develop a unified
theory. The chapter will then move on to
consider how psychologists have contributed to ideas about peace and reconciliation in the context of intrastate violence
and the impact SIT has had on this debate.

Authoritarian Personality Theory
According to Adorno et al. (1950), the individual's personality structure provides the
basis for the development of intolerant attitudes. The hypothesis was that there is a
link between the development of negative
intergroup attitudes and the type of family
in which a child grows up. Specifically, an
authoritarian upbringing is one in which
parental discipline relies upon harshness,
few freedoms, strict adherence to social
norms, and punishment in case of disobedience. The belief was that growing up in this
type of family caused intrapersonal conflict
that led to hostile attitudes against the parents and in turn against authorities in general. Adorno and his co-authors believed
that the child's hostility is transferred to individuals or groups that appear to be weak,
different in terms of social norms, or lower
in status (e.g., ethnic minorities). Hence,
this offers the basis for intergroup conflict.
Adorno et al.'s theory of the authoritarian personality was undoubtedly one of the
most important catalysts for social psychological research in authoritarianism, ethnocentrism, prejudice, and intergroup conflict.
However, most scientists today share the

Intrastate Violence

41

opinion that neither the theory nor its operationalization is tenable in the original form.

or do they feel deprived in terms of some
specific dimension such as power or money?

Relative Deprivation Theory [RDT)

Social Identity Theory

The central thesis of relative deprivation
theory (Gurr, 1970; Runciman, 1966) is that
relative deprivation is not necessarily equal
to actual deprivation because relative deprivation refers to the individual's feeling of
being deprived. The hypothesis is that this
feeling of deprivation is the result of a difference between the individual's expectations of attainment and his/her actual
achievement. The individual's expectations
of attainment may arise from social comparisons either with other social groups, with
other individuals, or with the self in the
past. Runciman (1966) refers to feelings of
deprivation resulting from a negative outcome, as the result of comparisons with
other groups, as "fraternalistic" deprivation,
and negative feelings resulting from comparisons with other individuals, as "egoistic"
deprivation. Because fratemalistic deprivation is linked to social behavior, the assumption is that, in contrast to egoistic deprivation, fratemalistic deprivation can lead to
outgroup hostility (Brown, 1995).
There are several major conceptual and
methodological problems with relative deprivation theory (Walker & Pettigrew,
1984). One is that much of the existing research deals largely with egoistic relative deprivation, ignoring fraternalistic relative deprivation. A second is that research in this
area has often failed to operationalize RD at
the appropriate levels. Finally, much work
in the RD area has often failed to specify the
person or groups that individuals are using
for comparison purposes, and it has failed
to specify the dimension or dimensions
along which the" comparison process is
being made. In other words, do people just
feel somehow generally relatively deprived

There has been little interest in either authoritarian personality theory or relative deprivation theory as explanations of the conflict in Northern Ireland. One possible
reason is that neither theory appears to account for the psychological forces at work
"which intensify the strength of feeling beyond what the real conflict of interest would
appear to justify" (Whyte, 1990, p. 102).
Only social identity theory (SIT) (T.yfel,
1969, 1981; Tajfel & Turner, 1979) and its
more recent version, self-categorization theory (Turner et al., 1987) appear to offer this
level of insight. SIT suggests that individuals
use social categories not only to simplify their environment, but also to identify and to define
themselves. By identifying with a specific social category, a person defines him/herself
as a group member, thereby developing a
social identity.
The central thesis of SIT is that individuals strive for a positive self-concept, in part by
trying to achieve a positive social identity. This
positive social identity in tum depends on
(social) comparisons with other social
groups. The goal of the social comparison
process, therefore, is to find comparative dimensions that provide a positive outcome
for the ingroup (the group the individual
identifies with) in order to enhance the
group's and the individual's self-esteem.
SIT allows for temporal changes, which
gives the theory a vital dynamic quality. In
order to cope with both the positive and negative outcomes resulting from comparison
processes, the theory proposes that individuals develop identity management strategies. Such
identity management strategies become most
important when intergroup comparison results in a negative social identity. When this hap-

42
pens, SIT suggests that an individual may resort to (1) individual mobility (i.e., exiting
the group), (2) social creativity (including
changing the compruison group or changing
or re-evaluating the comparison dimension),
or (3) engaging in social competition.
The individual's or group's choice of
specific identity management strategy depends on the perception of the existing intergroup context and on the strength of ingroup identification. More specifically,
permeability of group boundaries, and stability and legitimacy of intergroup relations determine the individual's or group's preference for particular identity management
strategies. When individual mobility is not
possible (because of perceived "impermeable" group boundaries), intergroup identification becomes stronger and the collective
strategies of social competition and social
creativity become important Consequently,
the situation is more likely to lead to negative outgroup attitudes and in tum to intergroup conflict.
To sum up, SIT claims that people derive
part of their self-image from the social
groups to which they belong and that individuals strive to maintain a positive selfimage, in relation to their group membership, through comparisons with other
outgroups. If this social comparison process
results in a negative outcome, SIT argues that
the perceived type of intergroup context (in
terms of permeability, stability, and legitimacy) will determine the individual's or
group's choice of identity management strategy. In certain situations, particularly when
group boundaries are seen as impermeable,
intergroup conflict is the likely outcome.

THE CONFLICT
IN NORTHERN IRELAND
Despite the fact that it is possible to trace
the Irish conflict with the English to at least
the sixteenth century, Ireland really only

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came to the world's attention because of the
violence that has spanned the last 25 years
and which has led to some 3,000 deaths and
tens of thousands of injuries due to increasing community divisions. At its most basic,
the conflict in Northern Ireland is a struggle
between those who wish to see Northern Ireland remain part of the United Kingdom
(the Protestant/Unionists) and those who
wish to see the reunification of the entire island of Ireland (the Catholic/Nationalists).
Complicating this, however, is the fact that
underpinning the conflict are important historical, religious, political, economic and
psychological elements (Cairns & Darby,
1998).
Several attempts have been made to
apply authoritarian personality theory to explain the conflict in Northern Ireland. Various writers have suggested that Irish social
attitudes (including those of Northern Ireland) are more conservative than those of
Britain. Heskin (1980) for example, claims
that people in Northern Ireland "are raised
with traditional and conservative political
and religious values" (p. 84), making them
rather (more) authoritarian in their outlook. Despite this, social psychologists in
Northern Ireland did not find this exclusively psychological analysis of the conflict
convincing. There has therefore been only
one attempt to apply authoritarian personality theory to the conflict, and that study
(Mercer & Cairns, 1982) failed to find a
clear relationship between authoritarianism
and intergroup conflict in Northern Ireland.
Mercer and Cairns suggested that authoritarianism, rather than being an underlying
personality syndrome, is probably determined, in Northern Ireland at least, by exposure to conservative ideas which in tum are
related to sociocultural variables such as education, social class and religiosity.
Other social scientists have applied relative deprivation theory to explain the conflict in Northern Ireland, which is not an af-

43

Intrastate Violence

fluent area, given its combination of large
families, poor standards of health, high
prices, low earnings, high unemployment,
and poor housing. This situation was exacerbated by Protestant domination that led
to unemployment rates that are higher for
Catholics than for Protestants. As a result,
most commentators would agree that
Catholic aspirations to join their co-religionists in the Republic of Ireland is fueled at
some level by their relative deprivation, that
is, the way Catholics have been treated in
Protestant-dominated Northern Ireland
over the last seventy years.
Over the last two decades, significant
progress has been made in tackling the inequalities experienced by Northern Ireland's Catholics. Yet disparities still remain,
especially in the area of employment. However, despite the apparent face validity of
relative deprivation theory as an explanation for conflict in Northern Ireland, few researchers have been sufficiently convinced
to actually put it to the test.
Birrell (1972) was the first person to
apply RDT, examining in detail economic,
social, and political factors in Northern Ireland, concluding that there were widespread feelings of relative deprivation in the
Catholic community. However, Birrell focused virtually exclusively on actual inequalities between Catholics and Protestants and
made no attempt to show that Catholics actually perceived these inequalities or felt
them to be important.
Subsequently, Willis (1991), in an unpublished doctoral dissertation, attempted
to test the theory in Northern Ireland more
directly. Willis concluded that (1) in Northern Ireland fraternalistic relative deprivation is more strongly related to social
protest than egoistic relative deprivation,
(2) increasing the perception of inequality
does not necessarily lead to an increase in
feelings of discontent, and (3) TaJfel's
(1978) theory of social identity can be used

with relative deprivation theory to shed
light on the Northern Ireland situation.
These results were later confirmed by
Willis and Cairns (1993) who interviewed
Catholics living in the city of Derry in Northern Ireland. Analysis of the interviews produced clear evidence for the existence of feelings of relative deprivation among Catholics.
However, what was particularly interesting was
that while respondents indicated that they believed that they were not discriminated against
individually, they also confirmed that Catholics and Protestants at a group level do practice intergroup discrimination. Willis and
Cairns hypothesized that respondents distinguished between individual and group level
discrimination in order to distance themselves
from the situation in Derry. Once again, this
study highlighted the importance of group
feelings of relative deprivation (fraternal relative deprivation). As SIT is the only theory that
persuasively accounts for the fact that individuals act in terms of group as well as self, this
suggested a link between relative deprivation
theory and social identity theory as a fruitful
area for further research.

Social Identity Theory
and Northern Ireland
Social identity theory (SIT) has provided a
useful underpinning to much sociopsychological research in Northern Ireland
(Cairns, 1982; Gallagher, 1989). Undoubtedly this theory's popularity has stemmed
from the fact that SIT recognizes that psychology has only a modest role to play in explaining what was happening in Northern
Ireland because "the social, historical, political and economic causality of the present
situation must undoubtedly remain prior to
the analysis of any of its psychological concomitants" (Tajfel, 1982, p. 9). However
while the amount of variance accounted for
by SIT is modest, it is significant. SIT, as
Cairns and Darby (1998) have pointed out

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44
... captures the phenomenon better than
individually based cost-benefit analyses of
such behaviors as, at one extreme, the
hunger strikers, or at a more prosaic level
the intense group loyalty represented in
election results. SIT is above all a dynamic
theory in which the relationship between
groups is seen as fluid, and provides insight
into the social changes which have occurred
in Northern Ireland and which are still underway (p. 756).

In Northern Ireland social categorization (or "telling") plays an important role in
everyday life. Burton (1979), an anthropologist, has suggested that people in Northern
Ireland are almost obsessed with what he
describes as the most fundamental and
overwhelming question about someone:
Which denomination do they belong to?
To answer this question, people in
Northern Ireland have developed the skill
of using cues such as school attended, first
name, and area of residence. When this information is denied, they may fall back on
less reliable cues such as surname, facial appearance, or even type of swear words used
(Cairns, 1987). The concept of social categorization has stimulated empirical research to determine the age at which children in Northern Ireland learn to use first
names (Cairns, 1980; Houston, Crozier, &
Walker, 1990) or faces (Stringer & Cairns,
1983) to categorize others as ingroup or
outgroup members. Generally this work
points to the fact that, on average, this skill
is not mastered until about age ten to
eleven years.
Not only is categorization of others in
this way important but so is self-categorization. In survey after survey, when people in
Northern Ireland are asked to state whether
they are Catholic or Protestant, the majority
are willing to answer the question. Indeed
people in Northern Ireland see no problem
in stating that they are Catholic or Protestant

and then stating that they never attend
church. This is of course also related to the
very old joke-which has some psychological
truth in it-about the Jewish person being
asked if he was a Catholic Jew or a Protestant
Jew. Self-categorization is also a well-researched area, the results of which make it
clear that the situation in Northern Ireland is
a complex and dynamic one which does not
preclude fluctuations in identity salience nor
the exclusion of private as opposed to public
identities (see Benson & Trew, 1995). Furtherit provides an insight into the fact that in
Northern Ireland the boundaries between
the two groups are seen for the most part as
impermeable.
The operation of social comparison
process in Northern Ireland, which individuals and groups apply to achieve positive identity, has been less well researched. Social comparison processes however are not difficult to
observe because the only way to achieve a
more positive social identity is to ensure that
one's social group, put simply, scores points
over the other social group. This explains why
people in Northern Ireland are apparently
often more concerned with differentials than
with ultimate end goals. This can range from
arguments about who started the current
conflict to which group actually came to Ireland first in prehistoric times. On a more
everyday level the flag-flying and marching
and the opposition to it, for which Northern
Ireland has become a byword on television
screens throughout the world, is undoubtedly
best understood as part of the exercise to
maintain a sense of group superiority.

MANAGING AND RESOLVING
CONFLICT: NORTHERN
IRISH EXPERIENCES
Psychology has not only been involved in
trying to explain intergroup conflicts but in
attempting to manage, resolve or even pre-

45

Intrastate Violence

vent them. In this context, the contact hypothesis has been one of the influential paradigms used by psychology to understand the
way in which conflict between groups can
be reduced (Allport, 1954; Amir, 1969).
The contact hypothesis states that contact between people will allow them to communicate with each other and thus to discover that they share similar basic attitudes
and values, and to appreciate each other's
way oflife. The product of this, it is claimed,
will be positive attitudes, not only towards
the specific outgroup members with whom
contact occurred but towards the outgroup
in general and hence a reduction in conflict.
Unfortunately, despite its obvious intuitive appeal, the contact hypothesis has received only limited empirical support. The
problem is that even when intergroup contact takes place under what are thought to
be ideal conditions, positive attitudes
formed towards individual members of the
outgroup with whom one comes into contact often fail to generalize to the outgroup
in general.

The Contact Hypothesis
and Northern Ireland
Northern Ireland is a relatively segregated
society, especially for children, the vast majority of whom attend denominational
schools. For many, this is the problem.
Therefore, encouraging some form of crosscommunity contact, in the main involving
children, is often seen as the solution. Initiatives in this area have ranged from more
informal contacts in the form of summer
camps, to setting up a third (integrated)
school system. However, people in Northern Ireland already co-exist individually on
a day-to-day level, whereas a social psychological analysis suggests that the conflict exists at an intergroup level. A criticism, therefore, that can be leveled at many of these

contact schemes, is that they encourage
contact on an inter-individual basis rather
than on an intergroup basis as suggested by
social identity theory.
One of the earliest programs involved
bringing children together from the two
communities for holidays, often in the
United States. These schemes have been criticized because they only reach a small number of children and involve only short-term
contact. More recently, in recognition of the
fact that most pupils will continue to be
taught in segregated schools, the government has introduced a common curriculum
for all schools, which includes two compulsory cross-curricular themes with a community relations thrust, Education for Mutual
Understanding (EMU) and Cultural Heritage. This has been done in the hope that it
will end the mutual ignorance which many
feel characterizes Northern Irish society. A
second strategy has been to encourage and finance (but not make compulsory) interschool contacts between Catholic and Protestant schools. The most radical option involves
developing new integrated schools. Since
1980 some 40-plus elementary and secondary
schools have opened which share a common
aim of reflecting both communities in their
pupil and staff compositions while reflecting
cultural pluralism in their curriculum (Dunn,
1989). These schools continue to grow in
number but only serve a small proportion of
Northern Ireland's children.

THE FUTURE
In this last section we will discuss future developments in the three areas we have examined so far, theoretical explanations for
intergroup conflict, the contact hypothesis,
and ending with some speculation about intrastate violence in general and psychology's role in combating this dangerous
threat to world stability.

46

Theoretical Explanations for Intergroup
Conflict: A Unified Model
As the number of empirical investigations in
this area has started to undergo a rapid expansion, the search for a model unifying authoritarianism, relative deprivation, and social identity has now become critical
(Kawakami & Dion, 1995). One place to
start such a search is to examine the obvious
links between social identity theory and
both authoritarian personality theory and
relative deprivation theory.

Authoritarian Personality Theory
and Social Identity Theory
Efforts have already begun to reconceptualize authoritarian personality theory. According to Duckitt (1992), the basic construct underlying the three attitudinal clusters found
by Altemeyer-conventionalism, authoritarian submission, and authoritarian aggression-reflect the intensity of an individual's
feeling of social identity. Duckitt presumed
that with increasing ingroup identification and
stress on group cohesion the individual would
show an increase in conventionalism, authoritarian submission, and authoritarian aggression. As a result, he suggested that with increasing ingroup identification the emphasis
on behavioral and attitudinal conformity
with ingroup norms would increase. Furthermore, this should enhance the emphasis on
unconditional obedience to ingroup leaders
and the intolerance of not conforming to ingroup norms.
As a result of this, Duckitt has produced
a new definition of authoritarianism: "... authoritarianism is simply the individual's or
group's conception of the relationship
which should exist, that is, the appropriate
or normative relationship, between the
group and its individual members" (1989,
p. 71). Duckitt's new perspective has the

Direct Violence

added advantages that it is bipolar, with authoritarianism as one extreme and liberalism as the other, and that it views authoritarianism as easily influenced by situations
and different group contexts.

Relative Deprivation Theory
and Social Identity Theory
Several authors have already commented on
the correspondence between ROT and SIT
(Brown, 1995; T;yfel, 1981; Walker & Pettigrew, 1984). SIT and ROT both involve social (intergroup) comparisons as the basic
mechanisms underlying ethnocentrism and
the individual's development of prejudice.
However, SIT additionally emphasizes the
importance of group identification as a necessary process prior to social comparisons.
Furthermore, SIT is more focused on cognitive processes ("How do people think about
their ingroup in comparison to the outgroup"). In contrast, ROT, at its best is
more concentrated on the emotional aspect
of intergroup relations ("How do people
feel about their group in comparison to
other groups or individuals") (Brown, 1995,
p. 202). If a rapprochement of these two positions were possible it would help to overcome one of the main criticism of SIT
noted above, namely that SIT is too focused
on cognitions, neglecting emotions in intergroup conflict.
The parallels between SIT and RDT are
particularly obvious in a more recent version of ROT known as Folger's (1987) referent cognitions model (RCT). According to
RCT, individuals compare actual social comparison outcomes between groups (perhaps
in terms of power or money) with other possible alternatives. The individual's awareness of these other possible or "referent"
outcomes may arise from social, temporal
or imaginative comparisons. The author
suggests that those referent outcomes indi-

47

Intrastate Violence

vidually perceived as more positive than reality may lead to discontentment and resentment and in certain situations ultimately to
intrastate conflict.
Additionally, the variables justification
and likelihood of amelioration are included in
the model. Justification is the individual's
perception of the legitimacy of the actual
comparison process-"is it just/fuir that we
have less money/power?" The hypothesis is
that the individual's resentment against
other individuals or groups should increase
the more the actual outcome is seen as
being illegitimate (Le., unfair or uryust).
Situations where the referent outcome is
seen as "obviously" just and the actual outcome as "obviously" unjust are most likely to
lead to intrastate conflict.
The concept "likelihood of amelioration" refers to the individual's perspective
on the stability of the actual outcome. Folger assumes that the perceived possibility of
future change to a more positive referent
outcome will decrease resentment. In contrast, no hope for a change to the better will
increase resentment. Justification and likelihood of amelioration are conceptualized as
mediating the relationship between referent outcomes and resentment.
As noted above, SIT hypothesizes that
how the individual perceives relations between his/her ingroup and an outgroup, in
terms of permeability of group boundaries,
stability of intergroup relations, and legitimacy of intergroup relations, will determine
the actual identity management strategies
that individual will adopt. In tum, which
identity management strategy is adopted
will have a maJor bearing on whether intrastate conflict is likely to arise. In RCT terminology, the concepts "referent outcomes," "justification," and "likelihood of
amelioration" determine the degree of resentment. Both theories assume that outgroup hostility (which underlies intrastate

conflict) is determined by the perceived
rightness of the group's position in relation
to a comparison group and the perception
of future change of the group's position to
the better. While SIT suggests identification
with the ingroup as a mediating variable,
RCT suggests relative deprivation.
In conclusion, there are similarities between SIT and RDT and/or RCT, respectively. Folger's (1987) RCT shares basic assumptions with SIT and RDT (e.g., social
comparisons as the underlying process for
intergroup hostility and hence intrastate
conflict). In addition, the variables claimed
by RCT to determine different levels of resentment match well with the variables mentioned by SIT as determining the individual's or group's choice of different identity
management strategies.

Contact Hypothesis:
Recent Developments
Despite the disappointment engendered by
the contact hypothesis, social psychologists
have resisted the temptation to throw the
baby out with the bath water. As a result,
work in this area is leading to promising
new avenues of research (Pettigrew, 1998).
In particular, recent research in social
cognition, taken in conjunction with some
of the ideas on SIT outlined above, has
begun to provide clues as to more effective
ways that contact can be used to alter stereotypes. What this research has shown is that
stereotypes are highly resistant to change,
i.e., stereotypic beliefs show considerable inertia in responding to discrepant information. In order for stereotype change to
occur, it is necessary for the stereotype disconfirmers to be seen as typical of the group,
rather than of individuals. This is where social identity theory comes in, because what
this means is that contact must takes place,
not between individuals as individuals, but

48
rather between members of respective
groups. In other words, the contact must
occur at the intergroup end of the continuum rather than at the interpersonal end.
Paradoxically therefore, part of the solution may be to make people's group affiliations more salient in the contact situation
and not less (Brown, 1988), thereby ensuring
that the participants see each other as representatives of their groups and not merely as
exceptions to the rule. In this way, contact
should ideally aim towards changing people's minds about what constitutes a typical
group member (Werth & Lord, 1992).
To summarize, the most recent thinking
is that for contact to successfully disconfirm
key stereotypic beliefs it not only has to involve interpersonal contact, it must also involve intergroup contact with a member or
members of the outgroup who are prototypical in all respects with the exception of the
one key factor to be disconfirmed. In addition, the contact should take place over a long
period of time and in order for the specific
disconfirming stereotyped behavior or belief
to be expressed the contact should optimally
take place under highly structured conditions
in which the interactions may need to be
loosely scripted (Desforges et aI., 1991).

Intrastate Conflict
As we noted at the beginning of this chapter, intrastate conflicts have become more
common in the last decade. There is no reason to believe that this trend will diminish
in the near future. While all such conflicts
are to some extent unique, nevertheless
they do contain commonalities. For this reason it is possible to make some tentative suggestions, based on experience in Northern
Ireland as to the best way psychologists
might contribute to the search for peace.
To begin with, psychologists must understand that in intrastate conflicts their

Direct Violence
role in the overall peace scheme is a modest
but critical one. During the conflict itself,
they may serve to give people hope and perhaps lower tensions, while clinicians can of
course provide necessary psychological firstaid. As the conflict moves toward a settlement, psychologists may play an important
role in facilitating negotiations. Ultimately,
however, they depend upon the success of
the political process in creating a setting
within which peace and reconciliation may
be achieved. It is during the post-political
setdement period that psychology's role will
most likely take precedence.
Another lesson that all psychologists
must learn is that, even post-setdement,
their goal may be to manage or reduce conflict, not necessarily to eliminate it entirely.
For example, the government in Northern
Ireland, which for many years encouraged
contact between the two communities, has
recendy come to acknowledge the need for
pluralism in Northern Ireland (Cairns &
Darby, 1998). This has led to government
policies encouraging cultural diversity
through support for activities that are traditionally associated with Catholics only or
Protestants only.
Finally we can envisage a time when psychology will playa role, not just in helping
to intervene in ongoing intrastate conflicts
or to reconstruct societies torn apart by
such conflicts, but also in preventing intrastate conflicts. As political scientists and
political psychologists develop the ability to
detect the early warning signs that hindsight
tells us precede most conflicts, psychologists
must develop techniques to counter and
ameliorate intrastate conflicts before they
are inflamed and out of control. In doing so
psychologists can help to end cycles of
violence which have plagued many parts of
the world for centuries and in the twentyfirst century will be a maJor threat to world
peace.

CHAPTER 4

NATIONALISM AND WAR:
A SOCIAL-PSYCHOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVE
Daniel Druckman

The study of nationalism is a social-psychological phenomenon to the extent that individuals express sentiments or emotions towards and have attitudes about their own
and other nations. Focusing their attention
primarily on individuals and small interacting groups, social psychologists have sought
basic knowledge about the ways that people
relate to groups and nations. Central to this
focus are the conditions that arouse or reduce feelings of attachment toward ingroups as well as feelings of enmity toward
outgroups.
Nationalistic sentiments must be part of
any explanatory framework of in tergroup or
international relations. The etiology and
manifestation of these sentiments are important research issues, addressed by studies
reviewed in this chapter. More perplexing,
however, is the way that they influence collective behavior at the level of ethnic
groups, states, or nations. It is this connection between micro (small groups) and
macro (nations) level processes that poses
the greatest challenge to students of nationalism. Only a few attempts have been made
to develop the connections and few social
psychologists have developed the implications of their experimental and survey find-

ings for actions taken by nations. Plausible
mechanisms for connecting sentiments to
national actions were discussed in earlier articles (Druckman, 1994, 1995). In this chapter, my goal is to situate social-psychological
variables in a larger framework of factors
that lead toward or away from war.

NEEDS, TYPES OF INVOLVEMENT,
AND ORIENTATIONS
The bases for group and national attachments are widely assumed to be lodged in
human needs: "Groups in general are organized to meet human needs; their structures and processes are in part molded by
these needs" (Guetzkow, 1957, p. 47). At
the level of the nation, the group fulfills
economic, sociocultural, and political
needs, the last including security, group loyalty, and prestige. While these needs are regarded as universal, their strength varies in
different nations and in different individuals. The needs are not limited to national
identifications but are regarded as being
the basis for group identification in general:
"The ways by which an individual relates to
his nation have aspects in common with the
ways in which an individual relates to

49

Direct Violence

50
of which he is a member ... "
any groUp 1964 p. 258). Basic underlying
.
(Terhune,'
&: r attachment· and the nanon as a
aI th emes m
. the
needs 10
f) group are centr
(~ale 0 chological approach to nationSOC1 -psy
alism. variety of types of needs have been
A d by researchers investigating the
pro.pose cholo aical aspects of nationalism.
SOClal-PSy
t>-..
• h b
th
onomies dlstmgUls
etween e
Most. ~nd instrumental functions served by
aJfr~tlVe For Terhune (1964), the nation
naU.ons
&:
th e m
. d'IV!'du aI m
.
yes. relevance lor
achle f affective (sentimental attachment
term: ~omeland), goaI (motivation to help
to ~s country), and ego involvement (sense
on~d u'ty and self-esteem derived from naOf1
. ) . D eLamater et aI .
. alen ·dentificanon
non 1
.
69) proposed a triad of needs for na9 al . volvement which they refer to as
non JD
•
b lie functional, and normanve where
sym? s' and role expectations are emphasancnon
.
.
. d parallel concepts are found m the htSize· on individual motivation and smail
eratures
.
. for example, need for achievement
(af
groups.
d L" affil"
oal involvement), nee lor I mnon
(g. 'nvolvement), and need for power
fecnve I
.
. volvement); member attractlon (af(ego. JD,'nvolvement), taskonentatlon
"
(aI
go
fecuve
.
(
.
. I ment) and status attractlon ego m,
JDVOve
7
t) Stagner's (196 ) answer to the
volvem en .
. n why citizens often respond so enquesno
.
. tically to appeals by natlonaI leaders
thuSlas
. « • aI" d .
consiSts of the followm~ unal1Ve~
eSlreals:
ower, presnge, trUIsm, mor autono my, P
.
. and the will to SU!Vlve. Many of these deI~' an be subsumed under Kelman's
Sires c
1988) dichotomy of a need for self-protec(.
d a need for self-transcendence.
uon an
.
The questionnaIre surveys conducted
T hune (1964) and by DeLamater et aI.
byer
fh
f'
1969) suggest that an~ 0 . t. e types 0 m( I ment can bind the mdlVlduaI to the navo ve
.
.
but for many natlonaI groups there
uon, be a preferre d type 0 f'mvoIvement.
may

(?

Terhune, for example, found differences
between the foreign and American samples
used in his study: goal involvement correlated most strongly with a nationalism measure for the foreign students, while affective
involvement correlated more strongly with
nationalism for the American students. Nationalism was strongest overall for students
from underdeveloped countries.
Orientations toward conflict resolution
have also been thought about in terms of
development. Gladstone's (1962) distinction between egoistic and integrative orientations emphasizes the difference between
being strongly motivated to win (viewed as
an earlier stage of development) and recognizing the importance of collaboration for
mutual benefit (viewed as a later stage).
They are similar to the progression from decreasing egocentricity to increasing sociocentricity as discussed by Piaget (1965). As
children progress along this dimension they
are increasingly able to take the points of
view of people from other nations and decreasingly ready to depict other nations in
terms of simplified enemy images (Silverstein & Holt, 1989). Such a progression may
also have implications for the current recognition of a need for mutual or collective security: Increased concern for the welfare of
other nations is essential to the realization
that no nation is secure until all nations are
secure (Hicks & Walch, 1990). Whether applied to the development of individuals or to
decision-making elites, these concepts contribute the dimension of growth through
time. Individuals may develop more sophisticated ways of relating to their nations as they
progress from egocentric to sociocentric orientations. More direct implications for a nation's foreign policy derive from the inference that national decision-makers also
progress along this growth dimension.
The developmental trend from self to
other orientation should be seen in in-

Nationalism and War: A Social-Psychological Perspective

creased prosocial behavior, which includes
helping others, sympathy for them, empathy toward them and, even altruism on
some occasions (Wispe, 1972). Such positive
forms of social behavior may have adaptive
advantages. It has been argued, from the
perspective of evolutionary psychology, that
cooperative behavior promotes individual
survival (Caporeal et al., 1989), and that cooperative groups are more effective than
less cooperative groups (Brewer & Kramer,
1985). It also contributes to a person's sense
of identity by distinguishing between others
who are like them and those who are not,
between friends and foes (Volkan, 1988).
The cooperative behavior displayed between members of one's own group,
strengthened by pressures of conformity to
group norms, are rarely seen in relations between members of different groups. It is in
this sense, as Ross notes, that "sociality promotes ethnocentric conflict, furnishing the
critical building block for ingroup amity
and outgroup hostility" (1991, p. 177).
Of particular interest are the conditions
that influence why a person identifies with
his or her group. Findings from numerous
studies, (e.g., Druckman, 1995) suggest that
neither "personality" nor group loyalty is a
sufficient explanatory construct. It appears
that group representatives respond to broad aspects of the situation, aspects that can be manipulated by groups or their leaders to produce the "desired" behavior. They can also
be manipulated by third parties who are
asked to mediate conflicts between groups.
Research shows that representatives
who make a spirited defense of their group
to gain resources in negotiations will develop feelings of increased commitment to
the group and its perspectives. The perceptions or feelings are aroused by the situation, such as a competitive confrontation
(or a joint problem-solving task) between
the groups, and lead to such actions as in-

51

transigence in negotiation (Zechmeister &
Druckman, 1973).
Of particular concern, however, is the
relevance of these laboratory findings for
the behavior of citizens in their role as national representatives (Perry, 1957). More
generally, to what extent do laboratory findings apply to non-laboratory settings? One
approach to this issue is to assume that the
more similar two situations are, the more
likely will findings obtained in one apply to
the other. In more technical terms this involves the ecological validity of the findings.
Similarity between settings can be judged in
terms such as culture, group structure, immediate situation (e.g., crisis vs. non-crisis),
and the types of conflict among the parties.
Another approach is to ask whether sentiments developed for (or behaviors shaped
by) groups transfer to the larger context of
intergroup and international relations. This
is a matter of linkage where relevance is
shown by recurring patterns of identification with groups whether they are defined
at a micro or macro level of analysis.
At issue is the way that sentiments are
developed in relation to different units of
identification. From one perspective, the
expression of sentiments is similar whether
the group consists of interacting individuals
or abstract entities: Sentiments expressed
toward small groups need not precede
those expressed toward such larger entities
as nations and may, in fact, be contradictory. Much social-psychological experimentation is guided by the assumption of similar
processes that can be invoked simultaneously; that is, national loyalties do not depend on the prior development of communal loyalties. A competing perspective on
this issue assumes that loyalties transfer
from smaller to larger entities: Sentiments
expressed toward small groups or communities form the basis for those expressed toward nations.

52

PATRIOTISM AND NATIONAUSM
Findings reviewed in the section above
make evident the ease with which ingroup
attachments are developed and competitive behavior is aroused in intergroup situations. They do, however, raise questions
about the relationship between positive ingroup and negative outgroup sentiments
or attitudes. Whether attitudes of enmity
toward other (out) groups are a direct result of positive emotional attachments to
one's own group or are aroused by competitive features of tasks or situations remains an issue: Can enmity (or competitiveness) be aroused in representatives
who do not have strong attachments to
their group? Can group representatives
whose attachments are strong have favorable attitudes toward and engage in cooperative behavior with outgroups? These
questions are addressed by the research reviewed in this section.
Implications for the link between ingroup amity and outgroup enmity are developed in the factor analysis studies reported
by Feshbach (1990). He found that it is possible to distinguish among different kinds of
ingroup orientations and identifications.
Analyses of responses to items in a questionnaire about attitudes toward one's own and
other countries revealed two relatively independent factors. One factor concerns attachment to one's country: Strong loadings
were obtained on such items as "I am proud
to be an American." This factor was labeled
patriotism. A second factor concerns feelings
of national superiority and a need for national power and dominance: Strong loadings were obtained on such items as "In view
of America's moral and material superiority,
it is only right that we should have the
biggest say in deciding U.N. policy." This
factor was called nationalism. Correlations
between these factors and such variables as

Direct Violence

early familial attachments, attitudes toward
nuclear arms, and readiness to go to war
suggest distinct patterns. "Nationalists" indicated stronger support for nuclear-armament policies and were more ready to go to
war but less willing to risk their lives than
"patriots." "Patriots" showed a stronger early
attachment to their father than did "nationalists. '
Feshbach's research also suggests that
attitudes toward own and other groups or
nations develop early in life. Studies of children's acquisition of attitudes, reviewed by
Sears (1969), indicate that nationalism, at
least in the United States, develops first as
highly favorable affect without supporting
cognitive content. The content may be a rationalization for the feelings which may
linger after the cognitive component of attitudes have changed: Since the feelings develop earlier than the content, they are
likely to be more resistant to extinction. It is
those feelings, reflected in the distinction
between patriotism and nationalism, that
render debates between hawks and doves so
vociferous and difficult to resolve. Attempts
to mediate the differences are made difficult by the deep-rooted needs served by the
attitudes: Policy consensus is more likely to
result from compromises in positions than
changes in the underlying feelings. Less
clear, however, is the source for nationalistic attitudes: Do they emerge, as Feshbach's
data suggest, from weak parental attachments? Or, do they emerge as a transfer of
sentiments developed in a strong nuclear
family unit?
According to Feshbach, patriotism is
less likely to create public pressure for war
than nationalism and is, thus, a more desirable orientation for citizens. Given that the
tendency for ingroup attachments is probably universal (e.g., Tajfel, 1982), he
suggests taking advantage of the positive
elements of such attachments (namely, pa-

Nationalism and War: A Social-Psychological Perspective

uiotism) and deemphasizing the negative
elements (namely, nationalism). It should
be possible to have pride in one's nation,
recognize shortcomings, and be willing to
cooperate with other nations, an orientation referred to by Feshbach as a "patriotic
internationalist. "
Feshbach's findings and recommendations suggest that ingroup amity is not always linked with outgroup enmity. Certain
kinds of ingroup orientations are associated
with a tendency to denigrate outgroups,
while others are not (Berry, 1984). This distinction is made also in the well-known work
of Adorno et al. (1950) on the authoritarian
personality: They distinguished between a
healthy patriotic love of one's own country
not associated with prejudice against outgroups, and an ethnocentric patriotism
(like Feshbach's nationalism), which would
be. Much more recently, Duckitt (1989)
suggested that insecure group identifications would be associated with prejudice
and secure group identifications would not
(see also T:yfel, 1981). This work calls into
question an overall relationship between ingroup and outgroup attitudes-that attitudes toward the ingroup explain attitudes
toward outgroups. The relationship may
vary with a number of aspects of the situation as discussed in the next section.
The labeling of factors, such as patriotism or nationalism, reflects an assumption
that these are relatively stable attitudinaldispositions which are difficult to change.
Conceivably, the orientations are not stable
across situations but are aroused (or ameliorated) under certain well-defined conditions. For example, patriotic orientations
may occur frequently in non-competitive situations while nationalistic attitudes are expressed more strongly in competitive situations. An experimental approach is better
suited to identifying the conditions that
arouse attitudes and behavior. A large num-

53

ber of experimental studies have been designed to explore these issues.

INGROUP BIAS1
Results obtained from many experiments
leave little doubt that the mere classification
of people into different groups evokes biases in favor of one's own group; for example, "my group is better, friendlier, more
competent, and stronger than other
groups" (Brewer, 1979; Messick & Mackie,
1989). Further, the bias is obtained even
under conditions of cooperative interdependence between groups (Brewer & Silver,
1978). These results challenge the theory
that ingroup bias is caused by intergroup
competition or conflicts of interest as suggested by the early experiments conducted
by the Sherifs (1965) and Druckman
(1968a), among others. More recent studies
suggest that competition is not a necessary
condition for ingroup bias, although it can
result from competition and is probably
stronger in competitive situations.
The most prominent explanation for ingroup bias is Tajfel's (1982) social identity
theory (SIT). This theory claims that people's self-evaluations are shaped in part by
their group memberships so that viewing
their group in positive terms enhances their

IThe experimental work reviewed in this section refers
to laboratory groups. Relevance of these findings to nationalism is based on the assumptions that group identification subsumes national, cultural. and other identifications and that tbe experimental methodologies
provide insights about some influences on such identifications. Further, the problem of relevance may not
depend on methodology. A more complex rendering of
the concept of nationalism can also be explored in laboratory settings. The laboratory does not restrict an investigator's focus to [ace-te-face groups. It is possible to
explore the sentiments aroused by identifications with
abstract constituencies and "imagined communities" as
well. Whether it is possible to reproduce the scale, intensity, and salience of national identifications is an empirical issue that can also be evaluated systematically.

54
self-esteem, which is further enhanced by
making a favorable comparison between
their own and another group: An analogous
concept is Feshbach's nationalism discussed
above; also analogous at the group level is
the concept of ethnocentrism, which refers to
the concomitance of ingroup amity and outgroup enmity (LeVine & Campbell, 1972).
If this theory is correct, it should be demonstrated that intergroup discrimination increases a member's self-esteem. Studies by
Oakes and Turner (1980) and by Lemyre
and Smith (1985) support this hypothesized
relationship. However, many other studies
designed to test key implications of SIT provide mixed evidence for the theory. Such
experimental variations as degree· of ingroup identification, saliency of group
membership, security of group identity, and
group status failed to produce consistent results from one study to the next. (Messick &
Mackie, 1989). Taken together, the studies
indicate that such single-factor explanatory
concepts as self-esteem do not seem sufficient to explain ingroup bias.
A broader theory proposed initially by
Turner (1987) is referred to as self-categorization theory (SCT). SCT places greater
emphasis than SIT on the way people categorize others into groups. The theory suggests that people evaluate their own group
as superior only when they clearly see differences between members of their own and
other groups. Without the categorizations
of similarities and dissimilarities, real or distorted, the evaluative biases would not
occur. However, the research has not illuminated the relative importance of perceived
differences and self-esteem as sources of intergroup discrimination. A more complex
explanation would include the combined or
interactive effects of both elements.
The focus of most of the studies reviewed above is on attitudes toward members
of ingroups and outgroups. A related body

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of work has examined how people behave in
terms of their group memberships. Many
studies, conducted within the framework of
matrix games (notably the Prisoner's
Dilemma Game), show that groups play
more competitively than individuals, and
show that group representatives are more
competitive bargainers than nonrepresentatives. At issue in all of these studies is
whether the competitiveness is a function of
group identification per se. Insko et al.
(1988) offer a different explanation. They
showed that the increased competitiveness
of groups was attributed to an intragroup
consensus about the group's strategy: When
groups acted in lockstep, enhanced competition occurred. A similar finding was obtained by Druckman (1968b). The most
competitive groups in that study were those
that agreed in prenegotiation sessions on
the relative importance of the issues under
discussion. It may be that a consensual strategy, rather than group identification per se,
produces the observed increased competition. Whether it also produces ingroup biases in noncompetitive or minimal groups
remains to be determined. Conceivably, intragroup consensus contributes to the perceptual discrimination that seems to precede evaluative biases.
It is clear that better-designed experiments are needed to isolate the factors responsible for the bias (Messick & Mackie,
1989). Particularly important are studies
that identifY the motivations of group members. Such clarification would bring us full
cycle from studies that identify underlying
needs for nationalism, reviewed earlier, to
situations that arouse bias, reviewed in this
section, and back to identifying the motives
that are responsible for the biases expressed
in attitudes and behavior. There is, however, a difference of perspective and
methodology between the two types of studies. The former, intended to identifY under-

Nationalism and War: A SociaJ-Psychological Perspective

lying needs, use questionnaires to assess attitudes that serve needs considered to be universal and relatively unchanging; the latter,
intended to identify the conditions, assess
attitudes and behavior that may also reflect
needs, but the needs (goals or strategies)
are aroused by the situation and are complex and changing. These different perspectives also reflect an age-old issue of whether
we have a need for enemies or whether enemies are constructed by policy elites to serve
political purposes (Volkan, 1988). From either perspective, however, it will be necessary to conduct experiments that begin to
unravel the causal path from needs or attitudes (expressions of bias) to behavior
(competitive choices, aggression).
The role of competition in arousing ingroup bias has not been clarified. Many of
the experiments cited above show that bias
can be aroused by mere categorization,
while others link bias to a competitive situation. Is the bias stronger in competitive situations? Is it stronger on measures of behavioral choices than in expressions of
attitudes? The studies to date have concentrated on assessing the bias in the context of
an ingroup and an outgroup. Also interesting is the question whether the bias occurs
in the context of multiple groups, where
non-membership groups can serve as reference groups.

SENTIMENTS TOWARD MULTIPLE
GROUPS
Much of the laboratory research reviewed
above, and much of the earlier sociological
theories, distinguishes only between ingroups as membership groups and outgroups
as rwn-membership groups. Largely ignored in
this work are multiple group memberships and a
different array of outgroups for each of
these memberships: overlapping and crosscutting group memberships are part of the

55

landscape of intergroup relations within or
between nations. For nationalism, however,
these complex patterns apply primarily to
outgroups, not ingroups: most people are
citizens of one nation, even if there is wide
variation in the strength of identification
with that nation.
From the standpoint of a nation's citizens, other nations can be scaled on a dimension from positive to negative orientations as well as the intensity with which
these orientations are expressed. Of interest
are the characteristics of nations that determine where they are placed on these dimensions.
Evidence for the "scaling hypothesis" is
provided by results reported in the 1960s:
e.g., Druckman (1968a), Singer et al.
(1963), and Brewer (1968). The results suggest that sentiments expressed in favor of
one's own group's members or against another group's members are a function of
the nature of the comparison. For some
outgroups-those that are allies, perceived
as being similar and advanced, eligible for
membership-the extent of bias is small.
For other outgroups-those that are enemies or renegades, perceived as dissimilar
and "backward" or distant, not eligible for
membership-the bias is likely to be rather
large. The evaluative bias is likely to be
quite small or even reversed for outgroups
that are emulated (Swartz, 1961).

Reference Groups

Reference group theory, as developed by Kelley
(1952), Sherif and Sherif (1953), Merton
(1957), and others, takes into account the
often-overlooked cases of positive sentiments expressed toward non-membership
groups. Applied to national identification,
reference group theory highlights varying
orientations that may be taken toward one's
own and other nations.

58

Direct Violence

Positive orientations toward non-membership groups are necessary, but not sufficient, conditions for making them reference groups. Liking for another group (or
person) does not indicate identification with
that group (or person). More is required,
such as adopting its values or aspiring to
membership. An interesting analytical problem is to discover the conditions for moving
from positive sentiments toward identification with a non-membership group. Varying
degrees of identification with non-membership groups can be scaled in terms of the
way one relates to the group, for example,
as follows:
High
Identification

1) Motivated toward becoming a member
2) Assimilating the group's
norms and values
3) Using the group's standards for evaluating performance

4) Taking a positive orientation toward the group
5) Understanding the
group's norms and
values
Low
6) Recognizing the group's
Identification
existence
The critical threshold that renders a
non-membership group a reference group
is between steps 4 (positive orientation) and
3 (evaluating performance): The further
one goes up the ladder, from steps 6 to 1,
the stronger the identification with the
group. Reference-group identifications are
maintained to the extent that those groups
satisfy certain basic needs such as Kelman's
(1988) self-transcendence or self-protection
or needs related more closely to self-esteem
(Tajfel, 1982). To the extent that these
needs are not satisfied in membership

group~r satisfied better by non-membership groups-nationalistic or ethnocentric
feelings are reduced.
The studies reviewed above provide limited insight into the conditions for group
identification. They do, however, suggest
some independent variables that may be relevant. For example, strength of identification
with one's own or a reference group may
vary with characteristics that lead to emulation (wealth, political power, military
prowess, human rights); extent of visibility
or knowledge of customs or living conditions; the type of contact experiences with
members of other groups; extent to which
boundaries are open or closed; extent to
which needs are satisfied by one's owngroup membership; and the extent to which
one's own group is isolated. These variables
may be hypothesized to influence sentiments toward and identification with both
membership and non-membership groups.
Their impact remains to be explored.

ROLE OF COGNITION IN IMAGES
OF OWN AND OTHER NATIONS
To this point we have concentrated primarily on nationalistic sentiments. In this section, we are concerned with the distinction
between descriptive, cognitive content, and
the evaluative emotional aspects of images,
as well as the extent to which they are stereotypes. An image is a stereotype if there is
widespread agreement among individuals
about its content or evaluations of own and
other nations.

Content and Evaluational Aspects
of Images
The distinction between content and evaluative aspects of images was made in Lambert
and Klineberg's (1967) study of children's
views of foreign peoples. Separating content

Nationalism and War: A Social-Psychological Perspective

diversity (e.g., reference to the political or
economic system or to the nation's demography) from evaluative diversity (e.g., they
are kind, naive, talkative), they found that a
national group with a friendly orientation
toward another group was well-informed
about the group and described them with a
diversity of descriptive terms and a minimum
number of evaluative terms. In contrast,
those groups with an unfriendly orientation
toward other groups were relatively uninformed about them-used few terms to describe them-and showed a proliferation of
evaluative references. This finding was also
obtained by Druckman, Ali, and Bagur
(1974) in each of three cultures, India, Argentina, and the United States.
Both aspects of images, the descriptive
and evaluative content and the diversity of
terms used, were shown to be influenced by
one's orientation toward (friendly or unfriendly) and familiarity with the target nations. An implication of this research is that
motivational factors underlie the findings
on friendliness and evaluative categoriesfriendly nations were stereotyped more
than unfriendly nations on evaluative
terms-while cognitive factors underlie the
findings on familiarity and descriptive categories-familiar nations were stereotyped
less than unfamiliar nations on descriptive
terms. The distinction between motivational
and cognitive mechanisms is not meant to
imply single-factor explanations of stereotypes. Rather, it refers to the relative emphasis placed on the one or the other type
of mechanism in specific contexts. Any
stereotype or image is the result of an interplay among cognitive and affective factors.
Cottam's (1987) theory on the relationship
between motives and the content of images
proposes that the content can be predicted
from three factors: a) perceptions of threat
and opportunity, b) power distance, and c)
cultural distance. To illustrate how this

57

works, Cottam discusses two examples, referred to as the "barbarian" analogue and
the "degenerate" analogue.
The "barbarian" image reflects a perception of a threatening nation, superior
(or equal) in terms of military capability but
"inferior" in terms of culture. It takes the
form of describing the nation in diabolical
terms similar to Reagan's view of the Soviet
Union as the "evil empire." The content of
the stereotype includes: 1) a simple, singleminded, and aggressive enemy; 2) a monolithic decision structure; 3) a conspiratorial
decision-making process; 4) a judgment
that the enemy's advantage in capability is
attributed to one's own inability, for moral
reasons, to use one's own capability to optimal advantage in countering the "morallyinferior enemy"; and 5) citizens in one's
own nation who disagree with this portrayal
are "dupes at best, traitors at worst." The
stereotyped enemy is seen as being dangerous, a view that would temper hasty aggressive action against them.
The "degenerate" image is based on a
perception of opportunity coupled with a
view that the other nation is comparable in
strength but vulnerable. The content of the
stereotype includes: 1) an enemy that is uncertain, confused, and inconsistent; 2) a diffuse and uncoordinated decision process;
3) decisions not guided by a strategic framework; 4) a lack of will that prevents them
from being effective; and 5) citizens who
disagree with this image are "effete and
weak," much like those in the enemy nation. Based on this portrayal, the other nation is seen as being "ripe for the picking," a
view that would encourage or rationalize aggression against them. The Bush administration's portrayal of Saddam Hussein's Iraq
prior to the Gulf War had many of these
features.
Cottam takes his analysis further by suggesting strategies that may effectively deal

58
with these sorts of simplistic images. For example, when dealing with an opportunistic
aggressor's "degenerate" image, he suggests
conveying a tough posture, referred to in
the foreign policy literature as containment;
when dealing with national leaders who perceive threats, he advises a cooperative strategy, referred to as detente. These strategies
are intended to disconfirm the other's images and, by so doing, create dissonance,
which the other nation's leaders must resolve.
But, Cottam's theory does not take into
account the apparent rapid swings in sentiment that occur under the influence of
events and leadership. Notice how rapidly
the Chinese became "good guys" after
Nixon went to China, how fast Saddam Hussein became "a devil," or how sentiments expressed by Americans toward the U.S. military changed dramatically following the war
in the Persian Gulf. Although generally consistent with a situational approach to nationalism, most social-psychological theories
have not explained this phenomenon.

Content of Images as Theories of War
Cottam's typology corresponds in some ways
to alternative theories ofwar as described by
Silverstein and Holt (1989). For these authors, enemy images are not isolated phenomena but are best understood as part of a
theory of war. They describe the "folk or
Rambo theory," the "Realpolitik theory,"
and the "scientific or systems theory."
The folk theury posits a contest between
good and evil, a world of dichotomous certainty without ambiguity. The demonic
image of the enemy, which includes both
Cottam's "barbarian" and "degenerate" images, is a central feature. This theory is closest to the traditional meaning of stereotypes
as oversimplified images of one's own and
other nations, referred to also as "mirror

Direct Violence

images" when citizens in both nations hold
these views of one another (Bronfenbrenner, 1961). Polarized thinking in both nations prevents debate and impedes conflict
resolution on issues related to the opposed
ideologies. Of particular interest are the
conditions under which such thinking occurs in national representatives and in large
segments of a nation's population. With regard to representatives, it has been shown
that statements made by negotiators are less
varied during periods of stress in an international negotiation (Druckman, 1986). Osgood (1962), Milburn (1972), and others
have shown that, under external threat,
populations tend to lapse into simplified
stereotypes of the enemy.
The &alpolitik worldview is depicted as
an oversimplified theory of war based on
the game of power politics. While seen as
being less simple than the folk-theory view,
this approach is regarded by many psychologists, as being dangerous: It was the prevailing view attributed to American politics and
to academic political science during the
Cold War era. The game metaphor used by
the realist school places a premium on winning a contest that is played without a
framework of agreed rules; a focus on the
self prevents concern for the possibility of
joint gains or fair resolutions. But this characterization of the realist position may also
be an oversimplification. (Here we encounter the interesting case of stereotyped
thinking by psychologists who lament the
dangers of stereotyped views of other nations.) Although some realist thinkers do indeed present a simplistic, albeit cynical, view
of international relations, many other realists present a complex theoretical framework built on the assumptions of power politics in an anarchic international system.
Nowhere is this complex rendition more evident than in the work of the most influential realist, Hans]. Morgenthau. A careful

Nationalism and War: A Social-Psychological Perspective

reading of Morgenthau reveals considerable
complexity in the way that power is defined,
assessed, and used (Morgenthau & Thompson, 1985). While power is the centerpiece
of his framework, it is not a unidimensional
concept. The issue then is not the complexity of realist approaches but their assumptions.
Other complex approaches to foreign
policy focus more on cognitive processes
than on power politics, and may be subsumed under the heading of systems perspectives: for example, the complex imagery described by cognitive mapping approaches
(Bonham & Shapiro, 1986) or the ranked
hierarchy of values approach to debate described by Rokeach (1979). The key point
made here is that there is value in complex
imagery, whether that imagery is based on
realist or liberal assumptions. By reducing
the temptation to stereotype other nations,
it prevents pitting own nations against others in ways similar to Cottam's (1987) depicted views of the world. Since complex
cognitive structures are assumed to underlie
attitudes, values, and images, it should be
possible to create the conditions for elicitingthem.
Less clear in these treatments are the effects of sentiments on the content and
structure of argumentation or values. The
earlier discussion suggested that strong nationalist sentiments or intense group identification may produce simplified images of
ingroups and outgroups. It was also shown,
however, that a positive orientation toward
one's own nation may not, by itself, result in
stereotyped (oversimplified) images of an
enemy nation. It should be possible to create the conditions for complex imagery
without reducing one's attachment to a nation. Although difficult to sustain in all circumstances, especially during periods of
high stress, complex imagery of the sort described by Silverstein and Holt's (1989) sys-

59

terns theory of war, by Bonham and
Shapiro's (1986) cognitive mapping approach, or by Rokeach's (1979) values
analysis can be taught, though the precise
mechanisms underlying the learning
process need extensive research.

NATIONALISM AND WAR
Psychological research has concentrated
primarily on the conditions that arouse nationalist sentiments or stereotyped images
of other nations. Less attention has been
paid to the connection between those sentiments or cognitions and actions taken by
nations. In this section, I attempt to spell
out these connections, beginning by conceiving them in sequence, as stages toward
or away from warfare.
The first stage consists of pressures
brought by citizens on decision makers. A
few studies show that national policies concerning defense spending are influenced by
public images of adversaries (e.g., Burn &
Oskamp, 1989) which are, in tum, influenced by changed relations (e.g., Trost et
al., 1989). A second stage consists of the decision-making process engaged in by policy
makers. From a psychological perspective,
structural factors are not simply viewed as
direct causes of collective action, as in the
link between power and actions, but are the
factors to be weighed by decision makers as
they consider alternative courses of action.
Included in the decision-making process is
the propensity for misperception. A number of studies have shown that exaggerated
national self-images can lead to miscalculations of likely outcomes from collective actions (e.g., Lebow, 1981).
The third stage consists of the actions
that follow from the decision to commit resources, to mobilize, md to act. Actions,
once taken, are likely to be influenced by
such group characteristics as cohesion.

60
Group loyalty is usually regarded as a defining aspect of cohesion (Zander, 1979) and
is emphasized in the literature on the motivation of soldiers (Moskos, 1970; Lynn,
1984). Less clear is the distinction between
loyalty as cause or consequence of cohesion,
and the role of cohesion in sustaining troop
motivation over time (Druckman, 1995).
By making these connections, we can
situate social-psychological factors in a
framework of the causes and consequences
of war. These factors are construed largely
at the micro level of individuals (decisionmakers) and small groups (decision-making
and combat units) and, thus, provide only a
partial explanation for collective action. A
more comprehensive framework would also
include macro (societal) level factors. In addition to identifying the factors at micro
and macro levels, the framework would
arrange them in time-ordered sequence
which specifies the paths taken toward or
away from war. Building on recent literature, the discussion to follow takes a step toward developing a framework that connects
nationalism to war.
The distinction between a human, liberal-prone nationalism and a virulent, aggressive form, made by Gellner (1995), is
relevant. Most treatments of nationalism
focus on the former: the political, social,
psychological, and economic development
processes that influence the formation of
national identities (Posen, 1993). Considerably less scholarship has been devoted to
the more aggressive aspects and, thus, to
the connection between nationalism and
war (except the edited books by Kupchan,
1995, and Comaroff & Stem, 1995). This
may be due to two dilemmas about the relationship. One concerns the confusion between causes and consequences: leaders use
nationalism to mobilize public support for
military preparation; nationalism is aroused
by the conflict and intensified by victory.

Direct Violence

Another dilemma concerns whether to
focus analytical attention on citizens or decision-making elites: Are elites influenced
by citizen pressure to act or are citizens'
views and sentiments manipulated by elite
machinations?
Regardless of the causal sequence, however, it is clear that intense nationalism can
be aroused, in elites and citizens, easily and
quickly. It plays an important, although not
sufficient, role at each stage in the decisionmobilization processes leading to and sustaining violent intra- and international
conflicts. Rather than resolving the directionality dilemmas, I place nationalistic sentiments in a framework that elucidates the
conditions and processes leading toward or
away from war.

Conditions. Background Factors.
and Processes: A Framework
The literature on nationalism and war calls
attention to variables that can be organized
in such categories as conditions, background factors, processes, and outcomes.
Included in the category of background factors are a nation's political structure as authoritarian or democratic (Kupchan, 1995),
relations with minorities who live within the
state (Van Evera, i995), balance of power
between ruling elites and ethnic minorities
(Druckman & Green, 1986), and availability
of alternatives to conflict or war. The link
between these factors and nationalism is
regime legitimacy, summarized in the form
of an hypothesis: The less legitimate a government, the greater the incentive to provoke nationalistic sentiments that support
conflict.
The process of provoking nationalist
sentiments by decision-making elites involves constructing myths about the state in
relation to foreigners. Van Evera notes that
"myths flourish when elites need them

Nationalism and War: A Socia~Psychological Perspective

most, when opposition to myths is weakest,
and when publics are most myth-receptive"
(1995, p. 151). Elites need them most when
their legitimacy is in question and when
they are faced with external or internal
threats. Opposition to myths is weak when
the society lacks independent evaluative institutions such as the media and universities. The citizenry is most receptive to myths
in periods of transition and when they are
faced with· external threats. Ready acceptance of myths constructed by ruling
regimes facilitates mobilization for collective
action. Mobilization is also easier when national identification is relatively fluid. Bienen (1995) emphasizes the advantages (to
elites) of dealing with a malleable citizenry.
However, just as a fluid nationalism can be
stirred up in the service of conquest or defense, its intensity can also be lessened
through the experiences accompanying participation in combat. For this reason, a more
durable nationalism may sustain combat
even if it is more difficult to manipulate to
serve the hegemonic goals of ruling elites.
The discussion above on reference
groups emphasizes multiple group identities. Some of these identities are stronger or
more durable than others. More durable
identities are harder to manipulate, but provide a source of stable support for military
mobilization. More fluid identities are easier to manipulate to serve the short-term
goals of hegemonic leaders. Whether durable or fluid, identities are based on illusions of the distinction between "us" and
"them." Connor (1994) discusses the myths
of hemispheric, continental, regional, and
state unity. For example, regions of Southeast Asia, the Far East, the Middle East, and
sub-Sahara Mrica are noted more for their
distinctive than common characteristics,
and the myth of intrastate unity has been
exposed in the divisions between Croats and
Slavs, Czechs and Slovaks, Quebel;ois and

61

Canadians, and Flemish and Walloons. For
leaders intent on sustaining unity at any of
these levels, the challenge is to perpetuate
the image of a common historical culture
among different language communities.
For leaders intent on exploiting divisions
between communities within a region or
state, the tactical challenge is to engender
and sustain the image of distinctive ancestral roots and cultures among the different
language communities. For scholars, according to Connor, the challenge is to resist
the misperceptions of homogeneity that
have influenced analysis and public policy.
But, plausible as these warnings and tactics seem, some scholars have contended that
widespread nationalism is not an important
precondition or influence on decisions to
fight or sustain combat. In rus analysis of the
war in Serbia and Bosnia, Mueller (1998)
claims that it was carried out largely by small
bands of "thugs" or criminals. Leaders did
not rely on mobilizing citizens to prosecute
the war. He argues further that nationalism
was either not widespread in these countries
or that it did not provide sufficient incentives
to fight. In fact, his analysis portrays citizens
as victims rather than benefactors of elites'
ambitions. Although limited to the case contexts studied, such analyses raise questions
about the connection between nationalism
and war. Nationalism is widely seen as a motivating factor for decisions to fight. It may not,
however, be either necessary or sufficient to
initiate or sllstain combat.
Rather than to impute a causal role to
nationalism, even in its aggressive or virulent
form, I prefer to place these sentiments or
variables in a larger framework of conditions
that may lead to decisions to initiate or avoid
war (including both civil and international
conflicts). The framework shown in Figure
4.1 distinguishes among antecedent, concurrent, and consequent variables and includes
the factors discussed in this section. Myth-

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62

A. Integrative or
hegemonic
(conquest)

I----l~

A. Mythmaking
about the state in
relation to foreigners

B. External violenc_
winners and losers

B. Mobilization of
citizens for action

A. Political structure
and legitimacy of
regime (authoritarian
or democratic)

A. Economic
conditions

A. Regime
legitimacy

B. Intermingling of
ethnic minorities

B. Balance of power

C. Relations
between groups
(internal and
external)

B. Relations with
minorities (including
historical memories)

C. Size of middle
class

c. Balance of power:

D. External threats

ruling elites vs.
challengers
D. Fluidity or
durability of national
identity

A. Internal violenc_
winners and losers

E. Proportion of
state-seeking
minorities
F. Independence of
media and other
evaluative
instHutions

Figure 4.1 A framework that highlights factors in the relationship between nationalism and war.

making and mobilization, processes that
support conflict, are understood against the
background of goals, structures, relations
with minorities, and legitimacy as well as a
variety of internal and external conditions.
Nationalism is construed in this framework
in terms of fluid or durable identities (a

background factor) and responsiveness to
myths created usually by decision-making
elites (a process): New myths are easier to
create among citizens with fluid identities;
older myths are more likely to be sustained
when citizens have relatively durable identities that coincide with the images. These fae-

Nationalism and War: A Social-Psychological Perspective
tors converge on an outcome, which can be
regarded as a decision to fight or to sustain
combat, with implications for changes in legitimacy, power, and relations (referred to
in the framework as the "aftermath"). The
feedback 100IF-from consequents to antecedent factors-indicates that the adjusted
evaluations (following conflict) of legitimacy, power, and relations lead to another
cycle of decisions about continuing the conflict. For example, combat victories may increase citizens' aggressive nationalism as well
as reinforce leaders' hegemonic goals, both
of which fuel further violent conflict.
At the heart of the framework is elite manipulation of nationalistic sentiments and
identities. Citizens are vulnerable in times of
economic and political transition leading
to social disintegration (Kupchan, 1995;
Mueller, 1998). But, disintegration is not a
sufficient condition for conflict. Citizens must
also be mobilized for action. This is easier to
accomplish in nondemocratic societies with a
small middle class. It is also more likely when
there is an external threat (imagined or real)
and when members of the same ethnic background are subject to discrimination in other
lands, such as Turks living in Cyprus or Germany (Van Evera, 1995). When thought about
in this way, the conditions and processes take
the form of a rough time-ordered pathway
starting with the society's political structure
and culminating in the aftermath of the conflict and nation rebuilding as follows:
1) Political structure ~ 2) size of middle
class ~ 3) extent of economic and political
transitions ~ 4) extent of social disintegration ~ 5) extent of external threat ~ 6)
manipulation of nationalistic sentiments ~
7) fluidity of national or ethnic identification ~ 8) mobilization of citizens ~ 9) intraor interstate conflict or violence ~ 10) outcomes of conflict ~ 11) post-{:onflict changes
~ 12) nation rebuilding.

63

EMPIRICAL GAPS: TOWARD
A RESEARCH AGENDA
While contributing to our understanding of
the connection between nationalism and
war, the framework also reveals gaps in our
knowledge that can be addressed by further
research.
a) Group sentiments may be distributed
among many different groups, both
membership and non-membership. Of
particular interest are the conditions
under which citizens identify with a
non-membership group or nation, the
extent to which such contra-identifications occurs, and its implications for
collective action.
b) To what extent do national sentiments,
and the accompanying biasing tendencies, hinder the development or articulation of complex images or explanations of another nation's policies and
actions?
c) It is important to specify further the
roles played by perceptual and structural variables in influencing a nation's
decision to act, its attempts to mobilize
resources and citizens, and the actions
taken.
d) What is the relationship between social
disintegration and external conflict?
While disintegration may motivate elites
to manipulate enemy images, it may
also reduce citizens' nationalism or
their receptivity to enemy images.
e) What is the relationship between the
fluidity of national identifications and
external conflict? While citizens with a
relatively fluid identity may be more vulnerable to elite manipulation, those
with more durable identities may be
more stable in supporting their nation's
military campaigns.

64
f) What are the relationships between nationalism, .mobilization, and sustained
combat? How often (and in which
types) are wars fought by mercenaries?
Can national combat be sustained with
mercenary armies in the absence of
widespread citizen support?
g) When settlement does not result in resolution, conflict continues in the aftermath of war. What conditions influence
continued conflict between parties who
concluded a war or agreed to a cease
fire? What role does heightened nationalism (usually expressed by victorious
nations following war) play in fueling
further conflict?
h) What is the relationship between intraand international conflict? Do intranational divisions interfere with attempts
to prosecute international wars? What is
the influence of nationalism on cohesion and mobilization for external conflict? Do cohesion and mobilization further strengthen nationalism?

PROSPECTS FOR NATIONALISM
IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY
In considering prospects, I summarize some
implications from the social-psychological
studies in relation to the macro-level variables in the framework. Many laboratory
studies demonstrated the ease with which
identities and accompanying ingroup-outgroup images can be established. Identities
may be more fluid than durable, changing
with changes in the situation such as a reevaluation of incentives and goals, shifting alliances, superordinate goals, the discovery of
new reference (non-membership) groups,
and third-party intelVentions. Changing conditions can increase or decrease ingroup attachments just as they can intensify or reduce the negative sentiments expressed

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toward outgroups. A challenge is to understand the conditions that increase (or decrease) the positive elements of ingroup attachments, referred to earlier as patriotism,
while decreasing (or increasing) the negative aspects of outgroup enmity, referred to
as nationalism. This challenge has important implications for mobilizing citizens for
collective action, including war.
The framework shown in Figure 4.1
identifies some factors that can trigger aggressive nationalism. The processes of
image- or mythmaking and mobilization engaged in by some decision-making elites,
are understood in relation to certain political and economic conditions. Citizens in nations with authoritarian regimes during periods of economic transition are more
vulnerable to elite manipulation of nationalist sentiments than those in prospering
democratic societies. Incentives for such
manipulation are increased when the
regime faces challenges (from state-seeking
minorities) to its authority and legitimacy
and when it effectively controls the media.
Prospects can then be projected from
trends in these conditions, notably toward
or away from democratization and self-sufficient economies. The variables can be used
as a checklist of indicators for monitoring
these trends.
Although there is reason to offer optimistic prospects-namely, toward more liberal-prone nationalisms-based on current
international trends, two dilemmas selVe to
reduce the confidence in any forecast. One
is that citizens' nationalism may be less important in authoritarian than in democratic
political systems. While authoritarian elites
can more easily manipulate popular sentiments, they may have less need to do so.
Mueller's (1998) work on mercenary armies
in Bosnia and Lynn's (1984) analysis of soldier motivation suggest that nationalism or
patriotism may not be important incentives

Nationalism and War: A Social-Psychological Perspective

to sustain combat. While democratic regimes have more difficulty in manipulating
popular sentiments-in large part because
of the role of an independent media-they
may have more need to do so, especially in
countries with all-volunteer militaries. Thus,
the trend toward democratization may not
reduce nationalistic sentiments but may
make it increasingly difficult to mobilize
and sustain those sentiments for war.
The second dilemma consists of an apparently increasing tension between globalization (larger, supra-national identities)
and fragmentation (smaller, national and
ethnic group identities). In commenting on
trends in European nationalism, Periwal
(1995) noted that, on the one hand, an in-

65

creasingly cosmopolitan and integrated Europe is an antidote to the perils of exclusionary nationalism. On the other hand,
this consolidation may give rise to reactive
sentiments from those who feel excluded.
Blocked mobility or assimilation can lead to
a sense of humiliation which makes people
vulnerable to nationalistic appeals. Within
Poland, and perhaps other Eastern European nation-states, a tension exists between
a desire to assimilate into a greater Europe
and a desire to retain an historic national
identity. This may well be an unresolved
tension well into the twenty-first century,
making us wonder whether the balance will
tip in favor of the one-cosmopolitanismor the other-nationalism.

CHAPTER 5

INTERGRATIVE COMPLEXITY
AND POLITICAL DECISIONS
THAT LEAD TO WAR OR PEACE
Lucian Gideon Conway, III, Peter Suedfeld,1
and Philip E. Tetlock

And the war began, that is, an /!Vent took place opposed to human reason and all human nature. (Tolstuy,
cited in Huberman & Huberman, 1964, p. 391.)
From the dawn of histqry down to the sinking of the Terris Bay, the wurld echoes with the praise of righteous war . .. I am almost tempted to reply to the Pacifist as Johnson replied to Goldsmith, "Nay Sir, if you will
not take the universal opinion of mankind, I have no 7TIQI'e to say. (C. S. Lewis, 1949, pp. 64-65.)

As suggested by comparing the above reflections, a striking duality about war is that it is at
once both seemingly aversive to humans and
yet nearly universally accepted and practiced. Virtually all humans would agree that
war is, if not inherently bad, at least highly
disagreeable and the cause of much suffering. Indeed, the act of killing another human
being-even in war-may well, as Tolstoy
suggested, go against human nature. For example, examination of the 27,000 muskets
retrieved from dead soldiers at the Battle of
Gettysburg during the American Civil War,
and reports by American riflemen during
World War II, show surprisingly low percentages of weapon use, even with enemy soldiers
in plain view (Grossman, 1996, 1998). This

suggests that humans may have a built-in
aversion to the very thing that defines warkilling other humans.
On the other hand, this general aversion to war makes it all the more puzzling
that, for practically as long as there have
been nations or societies, there has been
war, and that certain wars are accepted as
necessary. Why, given that peace seems so
psychologically preferable to war, is international peace so difficult to maintain?
Wars have multiple levels of causes. The
historian studies political maneuvering and
the rise and fall of particular leaders; the
philosopher may explore moral and ethical
causes of war in general; the sociologist may
be concerned with such causes as mass

'During the writing of this paper, Peter Suedfeld was a Visiting Scholar at the Mershon Center, The Ohio State
University.

66

Integrative Complexity and Political Decisions that Lead to War or Peace

movements and competing loyalties; the
economist may assess the distribution of
resources among the various antagonists.
Some political scientists argue that war is the
inevitable outcome of nations each pursuing
their own rational self-interest in an international environment characterized by anarchy, where guns are indeed ultima ratio regis
(the final argument ofkings: traditional slogan of the artillery). All of these approaches
have merit, but the psychologist has a distinctly different task: to understand, as much
as possible, what sorts of things those responsible for war think and feel that makes them
send their own countrymen into battle, and
why ordinary citizens obey, often enthusiastically. In doing so, the psychologist hopes to
explain more precisely and at a deeper level
exactly what factors contribute to the rise of
particular wars, and, conversely, what factors
contribute to a peaceful compromise in certain situations that, on the surface, closely resemble a build-up to war.

THE APPROACH OF THE AUTHORS
TO WAR AND PEACE OUTCOMES
There is a tendency in the psychological literature to assume that war as an outcome is bad
and that peace is good (see Suedfeld, 1992).
Our own view is that this is a philosophical
issue that generally lies beyond the scope of
psychology. It may well be that wars are best
judged, in the moral sense, as "good" or "bad"
on a war-by-war basis. Whatever the case, however, the goal of the psychologist is to focus on
the processes that lead to particular, predictable outcomes-and not to assign normative values to those outcomes.

INTEGRATIVE COMPLEXITY
The purpose of the present chapter is to investigate the role of a particular psychological construct, integrative complexity, in polit-

87

ical decisions that lead to war or peace. Integrative complexity involves both (1) the degree
to which people differentiate among aspects
of or perspectives on a particular problem
("differentiation"), and (2) the degree to
which people then relate those perspectives
to each other within some coherent framework ("integration"). Differentiation is necessary but not sufficient for integration; one
can differentiate without integrating, but not
integrate without first differentiating. Integrative complexity is measured by codingverbal passages (in most of the research discussed here, this entails coding public
addresses or documents of political leaders)
on a 7-point scale, where 1 equals low differentiation and low integration, 3 equals high
differentiation and low integration, 5 equals
high differentiation and moderate integration, and 7 equals high differentiation and
high integration (for scoring details, see
Baker-Brown etal., 1992).

AN INTEGRATIVE COMPLEXITY
PERSPECTIVE ON SOME MAJOR
CRISES
Consider what might happen to political
leaders during a time of intense international conflict when war is a real possibility.
The leaders might adopt one of two different
hypothetical approaches to resolve the crisis:
(1) they might stand unyielding by their position, refusing to see (or admit they see) any
merit in that of the opposition, or (2) they
might be (or at least appear) flexible and
willing to compromise. It seems reasonable
that when leaders adopt the first strategy during a crisis, the situation is more likely to end
in war, while leaders who adopt the second
approach are more likely to have that crisis
end in peace. Ifleaders refuse to see any merit
in their opposition's arguments during crises,
they are more likely to end up "sticking to
their own guns"-both figuratively and

68
(sometimes) literally. Conversely, if leaders
attempt to be flexible and cooperative, they
should be more likely to work out a peaceful
resolution. Given this, to the degree that low
integrative complexity is associated with an
unyielding strategy and high integrative complexity is associated with a more flexible strategy, it seems theoretically reasonable to expect that integrative complexity could serve
as a useful predictor of the outbreak or avoidance of war.
Let us now look at the evidence pertaining to the link between the integrative complexity of the statements of political leaders
and eventual war or peace. We will then explore the possible explanations for this link,
and consider the limitations of this literature.

THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR
More Americans were killed during the bitterly fought Civil War than during any other
war in history (of course, it was the only war
in which both opposing annies were made
up of American soldiers). Interestingly, although it was fought from 1861 to 1865, the
war very well could have begun about ten
years earlier. Around 1850, there was a
great debate in the U.S. Senate concerning
the slavery status of any new states entering
the Union. Would such states be allowed to
have slavery or not? This debate ended in
1850 with a peaceful compromise. Why,
given this, did the very similar Senatorial debates in 1860 to 1861 end in the incredibly
violent Civil War?
One answer may be that the North and
the South were driven to war by two increasingly influential extreme political factionsfactions that tended to be lower in complexity than more moderate groups. Based on
historical writings, prominent political figures before the Civil War were classified as either abolitionists, free-soil Republicans who
would tolerate slavery but not allow it to

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spread into new states, Buchanan Democrats
who would permit slavery in new states if the
within-state maJority approved it, and outright supporters of slavery who wanted it to
be legal throughout the nation. Results indicated that the two moderate groups (free-soil
Republicans and Buchanan Democrats)
were higher in complexity than both extreme groups (abolitionists and slavery-supporters; Tetlock, Armor, & Peterson, 1994).
This suggests that the groups that were most
likely driving the nation towards war were indeed lower in complexity. This interpretation is partially supported by the fact that the
group highest in complexity, the Buchanan
Democrats, was also highest in "war avoidance" as a central value, suggesting an association between high complexity and peace
(although it should be noted that the other
moderate group, the free-soil Republicans,
was only moderate in "war avoidance") .
The above results do not directly compare integrative complexity levels prior to
the 1850 compromise and the 1861 war.
One would expect that, if complexity were a
key factor in the outbreak of the Civil War,
the integrative complexity of the 1850 debates would be markedly higher than the
1860 to 1861 debates. To our knowledge,
no such direct comparison exists using an
integrative complexity score. However, using
a less sophisticated measure of complexity,
Winter (1997; see also Winter & Molano,
1998) found that complexity was indeed
lower during the Senate debates of 1860 to
1861 than during the Senate debates of
1850. 2 Taken together, this evidence sug-

2-yrus difference was just shon of conventional levels of
significance (one-tailed fr= .055). However, the authoritarianism score, comprised in part of the complexity
measure, did achieve conventional levels of significance (Winter, 1997; Winter & Molano, 1998). (Authoritarianism is negatively correlated with complexity:
Persons high in authoritarianism do not want to think
about new and unconventional ideas.)

Integrative Complexity and Political Decisions that Lead to War or Peace
gests a link between the integrative complexity of the prominent political players of
the day and the ultimate beginning of the
Civil War.

WORLD WAR II
Neville Chamberlain was the Prime Minister
of Great Britain during the latter 1930s, and
he faced a difficult dilemma: Nazi Germany
was a burgeoning military power making
often difficult international demands.
Should he negotiate or stand firm? His
choice was to use a highly flexible appeasement strategy. Chamberlain's primary political opponent on this matter was Winston
Churchill, who dogmatically maintained
that Hider and the Nazis must be dealt
with by anns buildups and stern displays of
force. Churchill claimed that appeasement
through flexible negotiation was simply encouraging further aggression (most historians agree, with the 20/20 vision that hindsight affords, that Churchill was right). As
we might expect of one with such an unyielding position, Churchill's integrative
complexity scores on Germany-related issues were quite low throughout the 1930s.
More to our present purpose, Chamberlain had consistendy higher complexity levels than Churchill until very near the actual
beginning of World War II, when he showed
a major drop in complexity (Tedock & Tyler,
1996). This is further evidence that a downward shift in integrative complexity is often a
signal that war is imminent.
Analyses of statements made byJapanese
policy-makers in 1941 prior to their attack of
the United States at Pearl Harbor revealed a
pattern that was only partially consistent with
this hypothesis. The complexity of three key
Japanese policy-makers, analyzed in both
early and late 1941, did not reliably differ in
complexity between the two time periods
(Levi & Tedock, 1980). Why?

69

It may be that certain unique cultural
differences caused the Japanese to exhibit
less consistent responsiveness to a looming
war than the other nationalities that so far
have been placed under the complexity microscope. Similarly, chronic personality differences between the three men could have
caused them to react differendy. Or, the
truncated range of time examined may have
been relevant: The earlier time frame may
have been too near the December 1941 attack for the predicted downturn in complexity to be detected. Indeed, a study of
nine surprise attacks from 1941 to 1982, including the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, was more supportive of a hypothesized
link between integrative complexity and war
or peace (Suedfeld & Bluck, 1988).
This suggests that complexity is a useful
predictor of impending aggressive military
actions even when the explicit content of
the attacking nation's statements successfully hides the imminent attack.

THE COLD WAR
In the years between the end of World War II
and the fall of Communism in Eastern Europe, the United States and the Soviet Union
were the primary opponents on the international political and military scene. This time
period was dubbed the "Cold War" because,
although never officially at war, these two superpowers spent a great deal of military and
political energy on interventions around the
globe, designed to expand their own influence and limit that of the opponent. Consequendy, this era has proven a useful context
for exploring the link between integrative
complexity and hostile vs. cooperative outcomes in international conflicts.
Tedock (1985, 1988) assessed the integrative complexity of official Soviet and American
foreign policy statements from 1945 to 1983.
Time series and regression analyses revealed

70
that the Soviets' complexity tended to be
lower during the quarter-year prior to an aggressive intervention (such as the military intervention in Mghanistan, the Soviet-supported invasion of South Korea by North
Korea, and the installation of Soviet nuclear
weapons in Cuba), and higher during the
quarter-year prior to an agreement with the
United States that peacefully resolved a difficult international issue (such as the agreement to lift the Berlin blockade, the truce
agreement which ended the Korean War, and
the Soviet withdrawal of their nuclear missiles
from Cuba). Similarly, the United States' integrative complexity levels were lower during
the quarter-year of an aggressive intervention
(such as American support for the Bay of Pigs
invasion of Cuba, the American invasion of
Cambodia, and American military support of
Israel during the Yom Kippur War) and
higher during the quarter-year before a peaceful agreement with the Soviet Union.
That the Soviets and Americans differed in terms of the exact time of the complexity shift relative to the aggressive or cooperative act probably reflects something
unique about each nation's approach to foreign policy; indeed, the Soviets tended to be
more premeditative in their foreign policy
during the Cold War (Adomeit, 1981;
George, 1969; Leites, 1953; see Tetlock,
1985, for a discussion). However, for our
purposes it is the striking similarity that is
most informative: Both the Soviets and the
Americans showed decreased complexity
prior to (or during) an aggressive act, and
increased complexity prior to (or during) a
peaceful agreement.

SADDAM HUSSEIN DURING
THE PERSIAN GULF CRISIS
During the summer of 1990, Saddam Hussein ordered a successful Iraqi invasion of
the oil-rich country of Kuwait, surprising

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the rest of the world. In response to this action, a coalition of nations-led by the
United States-brought their collective military forces to bear on the Iraqis. A dramatic
military showdown ensued.
Several interesting findings from studies of this time period (Suedfeld, Wallace,
& Thachuk, 1993; Wallace, Suedfeld, &
Thachuk, 1993) suggest that the integrative
complexity of the leaders, especially Saddam Hussein, was an important aspect of
the crisis. The Western media has often depicted Saddam as the power-mad Butcher of
Baghdad, who had his mind unyieldingly set
on world conquest (see Bulloch & Morris,
1991; Darwish & Alexander, 1991). Interestingly, though, during the two months prior
to Iraq's invasion of Kuwait, Saddam's integrative complexity scores were actually
relatively high; this suggests that perhaps
Saddam did not have his mind uncompromisingly aimed towards war. However, consistent with the surprise attacks reported
above, his complexity fell markedly immediately prior to the invasion. This is further evidence that aggressive international acts are
preceded by lower complexity in the attacking nations.
Immediately after the invasion occurred, his complexity rose, and it became
higher yet once the invasion had been accomplished with complete success. In the
few months following the invasion, international pandemonium broke out as many nations and the U.N. Secretary General tried
diplomatically and through economic sanctions to convince Saddam to evacuate his
troops from Kuwait. None of these ploys
worked. Interestingly, although Saddam's
integrative complexity levels were higher
during these months than immediately after
the successful invasion, they were only
slightly so-much less than would generally
be expected during such a complicated international negotiation. One inference from

Integrative Complexity and Political Decisions that Lead to War or Peace

this is that Saddam never really intended to
compromise his position, and that by this
time he either viewed war as inevitable or did
not believe that the Western world would go
to war over Kuwait.

REVOLUTIONARIES FROM CROMWEU
TO CASTRO
International crises relevant to war and
peace come in different shapes and sizes.
One generally non-peaceful event in a nation's history is a revolution, that is, the violent overthrow of a government to establish
an entirely new one. Successful revolutionary leaders (like Oliver Cromwell, George
Washington, and Fidel Castro) generally
showed low complexity during the attempted revolution. Interestingly, however,
those leaders who remained low in complexity after taking over the government
tended to be ousted from power. Leaders
who were able to increase their integrative
complexity after gaining power were more
likely to remain in power (Suedfeld & Rank,
1976). These findings again suggest that
high complexity is associated with relative
peace, while low complexity is associated
with armed hostilities.

THE MATCH BElWEEN COMPLEXITY
LEVEL AND THE SITUATION
For many activities, it is true that "it takes
two to tango." But while it is certainly true
that many wars are mutually entered into by
the various participants, war does not require the consent of all parties involved. Nations can simply be forced into war by a foreign attack; once that happens, they must
defend themselves or surrender. Although
it has been consistendy found that the
attacking nation typically decreases in complexity when an aggressive action is imminent, that does not mean that the defend-

71

ing nation necessarily likewise decreases.
What might the pattern be for a nation on
the receiving end of an unwanted war?
One might guess that nation's leaders
would also decrease their complexity as they
prepare for the coming onslaught, or to
match the complexity levels of their opponents. The available evidence, however, suggests that the opposite is the case. In their
study of nine surprise attacks, for instance,
Suedfeld and Bluck (1988) found a marked
increase in the complexity of the defending
nations between two to four weeks and one
week prior to the attack. Similarly, although
showing a decrease prior to the other three
military conflicts from 1947 to 1976, Egypt
and Syria slighdy increased in complexity
before the surprise invasion of the Suez
Canal zone by Britain, France, and Israel in
1956 (Suedfeld, Tedock, & Ramirez, 1977).
In addition, although Saddam Hussein decreased in complexity prior to his own invasion of Kuwait, his complexity increased in
the weeks before the deadline given by the
Security Council for his withdrawal (Suedfeld, Wallace, & Thachuk, 1993; Wallace,
Suedfeld, & Thachuk, 1993).
Why might a nation forced to defend itself show a pattern opposite to that of the attacker? Perhaps the most intuitively appealing explanation is that the defending nation
increases its complexity in hopes of reaching a compromise and averting the crisis
(Wallbaum, 1993).
This suggests an interesting psychological template for a one-sided war. Evidence
from the Soviet-American Cold War era (Tetlock, 1985) suggests that, in general, enemies will typically match each other's complexity during crises. The evidence reported
above, however, implies that in any heated
international crisis where one nation adopts
a low-complexity stance while the other
nation, presumably in an attempt to win
reconciliation, adopts a high-complexity po-

72
sition, military conflict may be imminent.
This underscores the important point that
simply evaluating complexity out of the historical context is not particularly informative:Just because a nation's leaders are high
in complexity at a given time does not mean
that nation will find a peaceful agreement.
Agreements, unlike wars, require acceptance by both sides (Raphael, 1982).
Indeed, being highly complex could be
a very dangerous enterprise if one's opponents are low. When confronting an implacable and determined antagonist, it may
be necessary to present an equally impervious front to the enemy. Simply maintaining
high complexity will guarantee neither
peace nor success. Rather, the ability to
apply different levels of complexity to different situations may play a greater role in
success or failure in a variety of contexts, including maintaining peace against a determined antagonist (Suedfeld, 1992).

WHAT ACCOUNTS FOR THE
COMPLEXITY-WAR/PEACE LINK?
As discussed earlier, it seems intuitively
credible that a highly competitive negotiating strategy will likely lead to war. But is integrative complexity a symptom or a cause of
the type of diplomatic bargaining that leads
to war or peace? Do leaders who decide to
force their enemies into submission do so
because their integrative complexity decreases, or does the fact that they have determined to force their enemies into submission cause their complexity to reflect a
decrease? Do persons who tty to make
peace do so because their integrative complexity increases, or does the fact that they
are determined to make peace cause their
complexity to reflect an increase?
There is evidence from a laboratory setting that actual cognitive differences in com-

Direct Violence

plexity can causally contribute to aggressive
or peaceful decision-making. "Inter-Nation
Simulation" studies revealed that persons
low in integrative complexity are three times
as likely to rely on competitive actions such
as war than persons high in complexity. In
addition, players who were low in complexity
were more likely to use violence when frustrated (Driver, 1965; Schroder, Driver, &
Streufert, 1967; Streufert & Streufert, 1978).
Conversely, negotiating pairs high in complexity are more likely to reach mutually
beneficial compromises (Pruitt, 1981; Pruitt
& Lewis, 1975), thus suggesting that those
low in complexity use negotiating tactics less
likely to end in peaceful resolutions. Although this research suggests a direct causal
relationship between complexity and war!
peace outcomes, it cannot answer a critical
question: in historical crises, what causes the
changes in complexity in the first place?
Stress is one possibility. Crises are stressful-and stress has predictable effects on integrative complexity. The disruptive stress hypothesis suggests that although low to
moderate levels of stress can increase complexity, high levels of stress (such as those
probably caused by international crises) decrease complexity because of the fact that
stress depletes the cognitive resources necessary for complex thinking (e.g., Suedfeld,
Corteen, & McCormick, 1986; Suedfeld &
Rank, 1976). Indeed, consistent with the
predictions of the disruptive stress hypothesis, major political leaders' integrative complexity scores do tend to decrease notably
during international crises. In one study,
measurements of integrative complexity levels before, during, and after international
crises between 1958 and 1983 revealed that
15 of the 16 leaders decreased in complexity during the crises (Wallace & Suedfeld,
1988).
Group dynamics may also play an important role in the relationship between

Integrative Complexity and Political Decisions that Lead to War or Peace
complexity and war. The influential groupthink model posits that psychological pressures toward consensus within groups can,
during times of crisis where a decision is required, lead high-level group members to
unequivocally accept the opinion of their
leader-even if they really disagree with it
(see Janis, 1982, 1989). Signs of group think
include a reluctance to criticize other members' opinions, ignoring input from qualified persons outside the group, and failing
to explore potential alternative options to
the leader's viewpoint
Perhaps not surprisingly, there is evidence of a link between group think and integrative complexity. Terlock (1979) found
that decision-makers in cases classified as
groupthink scenarios demonstrated less
complexity than cases classified as nongroup think scenarios. On the flip side, Bordin (1998) found in an experimental study
that military officers low in integrative complexity were more prone to the influences
that lead to groupthink in the first place
when responding to an imaginary crisis
caused by a terrorist attack on a United
States embassy. This evidence suggests not
only that shifts in group organizational
strategies will affect complexity, but, conversely, that groups in which the members
are low in complexity will be more likely to
be affected by such group dynamics
processes. To the degree that the impending crisis affects most or all members of a
leadership group, this suggests that group
processes may multiply the effects of low
complexity on decision-making relevant to
war and peace.
Of course, factors other than stress and
group dynamics can affect the level of complexity of a nation's policies. Certain individuals seem to have chronically higher (or
lower) levels of complexity than others;
thus, the complexity of a nation's policies
may shift when the leadership of that nation

73

changes. For example, Mikhail Gorbachev
displayed decidedly higher complexity scores
than his Soviet predecessors (Terlock, 1988;
see also Terlock & Boettger, 1989). There
may also be an individual difference in the
ability to recognize and act upon the need
to shift complexity levels, as was observed
among the group of revolutionary leaders
mentioned earlier.

THE COGNITIVE AND IMPRESSION
MANAGEMENT INTERPRETATIONS
It could be that the decision to take either
an aggressive or peaceful tack in international crises is arrived at entirely independent of integrative complexity, and complexity as revealed in diplomatic statements
merely reflects those decisions. For example, the complexity of such statements
could be the result of an intentional rhetorical strategy designed to create a particular
impression on one's antagonist. If a nation's
goal is to simply bend another nation to its
own desires, then one way to accomplish
this is to issue low-complexity statements
that get the no-compromise message across.
Conversely, a nation's leaders may feel that
flexible maneuvering can better accomplish
their own selfish ends, and thus issue statements that are higher in complexity. Thus,
the public statements of these official representatives do not necessarily reflect the private or actual complexity levels of these individuals, but rather simply result from fully
intentional strategies designed to leave a
particular impression on their antagonists
(see, e.g., Terlock, 1985).
Is the cognitive approach (which assumes that complexity causally contributes to
decisions leading to war or peace) or the impression management approach (which assumes that complexity merely reflects an intentional strategy to engage in competitive or
cooperative rhetoric) more adequate?

Direct Violence

74
Direct tests of cognitive vs. impression
management explanations of complexity in
historical documents are difficult; indeed, it
has been argued that such tests are very
hard to interpret even when performed in a
controlled laboratory setting (Tetlock &
Manstead, 1985). The most direct attempt
to disentangle the two explanations with regards to war and peace decisions comes in
research on Neville Chamberlain prior to
World War II. Tetlock and Tyler (1996)
were able to use both public and private
documents of Chamberlain for these analyses. To the degree that Chamberlain's private documents really reflected his sentiments, the researchers were able to assess
his actual thoughts. As previously mentioned, Chamberlain's generally high complexity took a steep dive as the outbreak of
the war approached. The impression management approach would predict that
Chamberlain's public documents would
particularly show this drop, while his private
documents (since they reflect his real
thoughts) would not. This did not occur; in
fact, the drop was much larger for his private than his public documents (which did
not attain conventional levels of significance; Tetlock & Tyler, 1996). This suggests
that, as a cognitive approach would predict,
the association between integrative complexity and decisions that lead to war or
peace reflects a real difference in the complexity levels of the various m.yor players on
the diplomatic scene. Suedfeld and Rank
(1976) reported that they found no differences in the complexity of public vs. private
documents generated by revolutionary leaders during and after the revolution.
Not all of the evidence is so favorable to
the cognitive approach. And of course,
these two approaches are by no means mutually exclusive. The deliberate use of
rhetoric does not preclude real cognitive
change, and vice versa. At this point, it is

premature to take a firm position as to the
relationship among impression management goals, complexity of information processing, and war or peace outcomes. Indeed, we consider it highly probable that
both real cognitive changes and intentional
impression management contribute to this
link.

CONCLUSION
As we have seen, the evidence suggests that
integrative complexity is a powerful predictor of whether an international crisis will
end in war or peace. However, a number of
alternative interpretations for this consistent relationship must be considered.
One possibility is that complexity level
may be susceptible to conscious manipulation as leaders wish to project either an
image of flexibility and open-mindedness,
or of firm resolve, independently of their
actual thought processes. Another is that
the nature of the crisis may dictate complexity: intractable conflicts over important
goals may be so stressful that complexity levels drop (disruptive stress), whereas complexity may remain or become high when
the individual actually sees an acceptable
compromise resolution.
The centrality of the role of individual
statesmen, the focus of most analyses, is another moot issue. For example, Chamberlain exhibited a relatively sharp decline in
complexity during confidential, high-level
decision-making sessions about how Britain
should cope with Hitler's Germany. It may
be that Chamberlain, increasingly demoralized and discouraged, was showing disruptive stress as it became more and more obvious through the grim months of 1939 that
his policy of appeasement had failed. Alternatively, it is possible that the European
world was becoming an integratively simpler
milieu as the pace of rearmament acceler-

Integrative Complexity and Political Decisions that Lead to War or Peace

ated and alliance structures became increasingly sharply defined. In this view, Chamberlain represents a relatively powerless mediating variable serving merely as a conduit
for the shifting features of the geopolitical
environment.
In our view, it is premature to take a
strong position on whether the complexity
of leadership thinking or communication is
a key causal construct, or is a sign of the operation of other, more fundamental, causal
forces. The level of proof leaves us with an
open, if not completely neutral, mind. An
interesting possibility is implied by a recent
study (Santmire et al., 1998). In a simulated
hostage negotiation, it was not the level of
complexity of the negotiators that made the
difference. Rather, negotiators whose levels
of complexity were moderately close to each
other were more likely to achieve mutually
beneficial outcomes than negotiators who
were either very close or very diverse in
complexity. This finding needs to be tested
in real-life situations.
We began by posing the question: Given
how aversive war is to people in general,
why does war happen at all? An integrative
complexity perspective offers one potential
answer. Consider the different psychological makeup of the paths to war and peace.
Perhaps war, because it is in some respects
more difficult for humans to engage in than
peace, requires the unitary commitment to
an ideal that is the hallmark of low complexity. Complex processing may be largely

75

incompatible with war, because once one
begins processing many perspectives, one is
likely to hit upon persuasive solutions that
do not include war. Negotiating peace demands that one be very attentive to multiple
perspectives. At the very least, peaceful compromise requires thinking about one other
viewpoint-that of the opposition. At the
most, it requires balancing the many different complicated issues generally inherent in
an international crisis. Thus, integrative
complexity theory offers one psychological
explanation of some of the causes of war in
general, as well as being a useful predictor
of whether a specific crisis is likely to lead to
war or to peace.
As is perhaps obvious, the scoring of integrative complexity has some practical implications. Assessing the complexity levels of
opponents and allies may be fruitful in understanding their position, but whether or
not increased complexity among leaders
would be a good thing (and the reader will
recall that we do not prescribe it as the cure
for all evils), it does not appear to have occurred. Comparisons of current and recent
world leaders with those of earlier times
show no particular pattern of change. Thus,
at least to the extent that it depends upon
individual propensity for integratively complex thinking, even under stress, world
peace in the early part of the twenty-first
century will probably be no more stable
than in previous eras.

CHAPTER 6

GENOCIDE AND MASS KILLING:
THEIR ROOTS AND PREVENTION
Ervin Staub

The U.N. Genocide Convention, passed on
December 9, 1948, has defined genocide as
"acts committed with intent to destroy in
whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial
or religious group ... " In this chapter, I will
explore the roots of and, briefly, some approaches to the prevention of genocide as
well as mass killing, the killing oflarge numbers of people without the intention to destroy the whole group. Genocide and mass
killing have fuzzy boundaries. Mass killing is
frequently a waystation to genocide. Most
importantly perhaps, genocide and mass
killing have similar roots, and their prevention requires similar approaches. I will refer
to them simply as group or collective violence.
The chapter will engage the central
goals of peace psychology: understanding
the roots of collective violence and its destructive consequences and exploring how
such violence can be prevented and how individuals can contribute to its prevention
and to the creation of peaceful societies and
a peaceful world. I will discuss the following
topics: (1) instigators of collective violence,
such as difficult life conditions and group
conflict; (2) psychological processes that
arise from them, such as scapegoating and
antagonistic ideologies; (3) the evolution of
increasing violence that may end in geno-

76

cide; (4) characteristics of cultures that
make these processes more or less probable;
(5) group conflict as a source of collective
violence; (6) the role of bystanders and the
effects of their passivity; (7) the need for bystanders to intervene to halt violence once
it has begun, together with useful modes of
intervention; and finally, (8) proposals for
preventing such violence before it begins.

THE ROOTS OF GROUP VIOLENCE .
How do human beings develop the motivation to kill large numbers of people or even
to exterminate a whole group? How do the
inhibitions that normally stop us from
killing other people decline? Understanding the roots of genocide and mass killing
requires us to look at social conditions, culture, political systems, relationships between groups, individual and group psychology, and the behavior of "bystanders."

Difficult Life Conditions as a Source
of Group Violence
Intense life problems in a society, as a starting point for group violence, include severe
economic problems, great political conflict,
rapid and substantial social change and
their combinations. For example, Germany

Genocide and Mass Killing: Their Roots and Prevention

faced tremendous life problems before
Hitler came to power. In Rwanda, a very
poor, overpopulated country, preceding the
genocide of the Tutsis and the massacres of
"moderate" Hutus in 1994, there was further increase in population, great increase
in economic problems, a civil war, and political conflict among the Hutus who ruled the
country (Kressel, 1996; Prunier, 1995; Smith,
1998).
Difficult life conditions create social upheaval and frustrate fundamental human
needs (Kelman, 1990). Especially important
are the following needs: for physical and
material security, including the belief that
one will be able to feed oneself and one's
family; for defense of one's identity or selfconcept, including one's values and ways of
life; for a feeling of effectiveness and control over important events that affect oneself; for a comprehension of reality, especially as social disorganization and change
make people's world views ineffective in understanding the world and their place in it;
for connection to and support by other people, especially in difficult times when connection is disrupted by people focusing on
their own needs (Staub, 1996b).

77

Another theory, however, is that when people cannot find ways to fulfill their basic
needs constructively, they act to fulfill them
in destructive ways, such as turning to and
even seeking leaders who initiate or encourage scapegoating and offer destructive ideologies.
By scapegoating others, people come
to feel better about themselves and their
group: The difficulties they face are not
their fault. By adopting destructive ideologies, they adopt a new understanding of
what reality is and should be. The Nazi ideology told Germans that while others, especially Jews, are inferior, they themselves are
superior people and have a right to more
"living space," to the territories of other
people. The ideology of Cambodia's communists, the Khmer Rouge, proclaimed
total social equality, identifying those who
previously had power and educated people
in general as enemies unable to contribute
to an equal society. Thus, some must be
destroyed to create a better world for
"all." Both scapegoating and ideology
strengthen identity and connect people to
others who join them in working for a
shared cause against a targeted group.
Both create hope.

Psychological Responses
In response to difficult life conditions, people often scapegoat a particular group,
blaming the group for life problems (Allport, 1954; Staub, 1989). They adopt new
ideologies, conceptions or visions of how to
organize society or the world. People need
positive visions, especially in difficult times,
but the ideologies they adopt are often destructive, in that they identify "enemies" who
supposedly stand in the way of the ideology's fulfillment. Many authors suggest that
scapegoating and destructive ideologies are
created by leaders in an effort to gain followers or solidify their influence over followers.

The Evolution of Destructiveness
Genocide does not directly result from turning against others. Its motivation and psychological possibility evolve gradually. In
most instances, there is a progression of actions and a psychological evolution along a
continuum of destruction. Sometimes the
evolution starts long before those who commit genocide appear on the scene. For example, long before the genocide in Turkey
in 1915 to 1916, the Armenians were discriminated against as a subject people and
suffered repeated attacks. In one period
during the late nineteenth century, at least

78
200,000 Armenians were killed (Hartunian,
1968; Kuper, 1981).
Both research with individuals (Buss,
1966; Goldstein et al., 1975) and my analysis
of group violence (Staub, 1989) indicate that
people learn by doing. Engaging in harmful
acts changes individual perpetrators, bystanders, societal norms and institutions, and
the entire culture. Such changes not only
make possible but also often encourage increasingly harmful acts. just wqrld thinking
(Lerner, 1980), the tendency to believe that
the world is a just place, makes perpetrators
and bystanders see the suffering of victims as
deserved, either because of their actions, or
their character, or both. Victims are further
devalued and ultimately excluded from the
realm of moral values and rules (Opotow,
1990; Staub, 1990). Ordinary moral and
human consideration no longer applies to
them. This enables perpetrators to engage in
greater and greater violence. Some develop a
fanatic commitment to fulfill the ideology
and eliminate its enemy. Many German Nazis
developed this fanaticism and continued to
kill1ews long after it was evident that Germany was going to lose the war.

Cultural/Societal Characteristics
A number of cultural/societal characteristics predispose a group to respond to difficult life conditions by thoughts and actions
that lead to violence. Most societies possess
these characteristics to some degree; they
become dangerous, however, when they are
present in combination and to a substantial
degree.
Differentiating between "us" and "them,"
and devaluing "them," are essential, central
roots of people turning against others. Such
devaluation often becomes part of a culture
and societal institutions. Cultural devaluation
evolves because it serves a number of functions, like strengthening identity by elevating
one's group over another or justifying the

Direct Violence

lesser status or rights of some group. There
was a history of devaluation of Jews by Germans; of Tutsis by Hutus; and of Serbs,
Croats, and Muslims by one another. There
was a rift, suspicion and antagonism in Cambodia between the ruling classes and wealthierpeople living in the cities and the peasants
working the land in the countryside. (See
Niens and Cairns in this volume for a review
of the social identity theory explanation of
causes of devaluation of others.)
A monolithic society, in contrast to a pluralistic society, is another important predisposing characteristic. In a monolithic society,
the range of values and beliefs and the freedom to express them are limited-either by
the political system or by the nature of the
culture. In such a society, it is less likely that
members of the population will speak out
against policies and practices that inflict
harm on some group. In a pluralistic society, by contrast, many voices intermingle in
the public domain. The public dialogue
makes scapegoating, the widespread adoption of destructive ideologies, and progression along a continuum of destruction less
likely.
A strong respect for and obedience to authority is another predisposing cultural characteristic. For example, long before Hider
came to power Germans were regarded as
extremely respectful of and obedient to authority (Girard, 1980). In societies that are
strongly oriented to authority, people will
be more affected by difficult life conditions,
as their leaders and society fail to protect
them. They will also be less likely to speak
out as leaders move the society along the
continuum of destruction.
The nature of the political system is
also important. Extensive analysis of democratic and authoritarian/totalitarian systems
shows that democracies seldom engage in
genocide or start wars against other democracies (Rummel, 1994). Democracy, however, can range from being superficial to

Genocide and Mass Killing: Their Roots and Prevention

deeply rooted in culture and social institutions. Gennany was a democracy during the
Weimar Republic, but it became a totalitarian system under the Nazis. In Argentina,
military dictatorships regularly replaced
elected governments. The institutions of a
"civic society," moderate respect for authority, and the right and opportunity for all
groups to participate in public life are important aspects of a pluralistic, democratic
society.
Finally, unhealed group trauma can be a
source of collective violence. Trauma creates insecurity and mistrust (Agger, this volume;Janoff-Bulman, 1992). Members of victimized groups will see the world as a
dangerous place. During periods of conflict,
they will tend to focus on their own vulnerability and needs, making it difficult for them
to consider the needs of others. Individuals
and groups that have experienced great suffering, especially violence at the hand of
others, are more likely to respond to a renewed threat with violence, which they will
view as defensive aggression.
However, it is far from inevitable that
survivors of group violence will become perpetrators. Many individual survivors devote
themselves to the service of other human
beings (Valent, 1998). Most likely, these are
people who have experienced genuine
human connections to others or have had
protective or healing experiences and want
to make sure that others won't suffer as they
have.

GROUP CONFLICT AS THE SOURCE
OF COLLECTIVE VIOLENCE
Histories of Ethnic
and Group Conflict:
Ideologies of Antagonism
The evolution of destructiveness may take
the fonn of mutual antagonism and violence over an extended period. With the

79

psychological groundwork already laid, a
sudden flare-up of violence can take place.
A history of conflict, hostility, and mutual violence leads to perceiving the "other" as an
enemy who represents a danger to one's existence. At the same time, each group's
identity is partly defined by its enmity to the
other. I call this an ideology of antagonism
(Staub, 1989). Examples of ideologies of antagonism include the French and Gennans
during some of their history and the parties
in the fonner Yugoslavia at the end of
World War II, as well as the relationship between Hutus and Tutsis in Rwanda (Kressel,
1996; Prunier, 1995).

Conflicts over Status,
Power, and Rights
Difficult life conditions can lead subordinate groups in a society to demand greater
rights and opportunities. Protest can tum
into revolt. If successful, it can tum into
mass killings or genocide against the dominant group, as happened in Cambodia.
More often, though, demands, acts of self
assertion, and violence by the subordinate
group lead to increasing persecution, mass
killings, or genocide by the dominant
group. State response to rebellion by "ethnoclasses" excluded from power has been
the most frequent cause of genocide (Fein,
1993) and other group violence since the
Second World War.
The disappearances in Argentina
(Nunca Mas, 1986) as well as in a number of
other South and Central American countries are examples of mass violence emanating from the dominant group. In Colombia,
guerillas rule segments of the country and
kidnap people for ransom, a practice that
has spread so that about 50 percent of all
kidnappings in the world now take place in
Colombia. In response, paramilitary groups
and the military itself have killed many people (Human Rights Watch, 1996; U.S. State

80
Department, 1996), including peasants suspected of supporting the guerillas and
members of political parties and organizations identified as leftist, especially their
leaders.
Violence perpetrated against those who
try to change the social system is frequently
not just a matter of defending self-interest.
It is also the defense of "hierarchy legitimizing myths" (Sidanius, in press), or what may
be called "ideologies of superiority" by
those who possess power, wealth, and influence, and come to see societal arrangements as "right" (Staub, 1989).

The Role of Leaders and Elites
The combination of difficult life conditions
(or other instigators) and culture affects the
kind of leaders a population is open to. Although leaders have some latitude in how
they deal with difficult life conditions or
group conflict, they often intensify already
existing hostility (Kressel, 1996). They not
only do this to gain and strengthen influence, but also because they themselves are
affected by the combination of culture and
difficult life conditions. Leaders often magnify differences between groups in power
and status, adopt or create destructive ideologies, and use propaganda to enhance
devaluation of and fear of the other. They
create organizations that are potential instruments of violence-for example, paramilitary organizations, which have been
used as tools of collective violence in many
countries, including Bosnia and Rwanda
(Kressel, 1996), Argentina (Nunca Mas,
1986), Turkey, and Germany.
Some leaders have been especially important in creating great violence: Hitler,
Stalin, Idi Amin, Saddam Hussein, probably
Milosevich in Yugoslavia, and warlords in
Africa, like General Aidid in Somalia (Farer,
1996) are among well-known names. The

Direct Violence

combinations of societal conditions and cultures discussed above may allow individuals
who would not be accepted under "normal"
conditions, to come to the fore. However, at
least some of these leaders are not initially
motivated to bring about the destruction
and violence they create. But the personality of the leaders, the culture of the group,
the ideology that is created or adopted and
resulting actions, lead to an evolution that
produces unfortunate changes in both the
group and the leaders themselves.

The Passivity and Complicity
of Bystanders
Both internal bystanders (members ofa perpetrator group who are themselves not perpetrators) and external bystanders (outside
groups and nations) have great potential to
influence events and inhibit progression
along the continuum of destruction. Their
active opposition can reawaken the perpetrators' moral values, challenge the exclusion of victims from the moral universe,
cause concern about retaliation or punishment, and make harm-doing costly. Unfortunately, internal bystanders normally remain passive and, over time, many of them
come to support the perpetrators. External
bystanders usually also remain passive, proceed with business as usual, or actively
support the perpetrators. For example, in
1936 the world affirmed Nazi Germany by
holding the Olympics in Berlin, and U.S.
corporations continued doing business in
Germany (Simpson, 1993). When the killings of Annenians began in 1915, Germany,
Turkey's ally in the war, remained passive
(Dadrian, 1996). Articles in German newspapers even justified Turkish actions (Bedrossyan, 1983). More recently, while Iraq
was using chemical weapons against its Kurdish citizens, many countries, including the
United States, continued to provide military

Genocide and Mass Killing: Their Roots and Prevention

equipment and economic aid to it. The
United States saw Iraq as a counterweight to
a fundamentalist, hostile Iran. France provided military support to the government of
Rwanda in the early 1990s and continued to
do so without objecting to the sporadic
killing of thousands of Tutsis before 1994,
when the genocide was perpetrated (Gourevich,1998).
Perpetrators are confirmed in the rightness of their cause by the passivity of bystanders (Taylor, 1983), and even more by
their support. By the same token, substantial evidence shows that individuals have
great potential influence on the behavior of
other bystanders, and even on perpetrators.
How a person acts-remaining passive or
taking action-and what a person says can
lead others to help or not help someone in
distress (Latane & Darley, 1970). At Le
Chambon, the Huguenot village in France,
heroic actions by the villagers during World
War II in saving Jewish refugees changed
some of the perpetrators, who in turn
helped the villagers (Hallie, 1979).
The potential of groups of people,
states, and the international community to
exert influence is great, though rarely used.
But witnessing the suffering of others is
painful, and bystanders who remain passive
tend to reduce their empathic suffering and
guilt by distancing themselves from victims.
This may make later action by them even
less likely.

THE POTENTIAL OF BYSTANDERS:
BYSTANDER ACTIONS
TO HALT VIOLENCE
The Issue of Intervention
The further a group has progressed along a
continuum of destruction, the more committed perpetrators become to their violent
course. Bystanders must exert influence if

81

the evolution toward mass killing or genocide is to stop. Many types of bystanders can
play important roles-for example, nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) and
citizen groups (Rupesinghe, 1996). Beyond
a certain point in the evolution of violence,
however, the influence and power of nations and the community of nations is required. The earlier that nations respond to
human rights violations, the less committed
will perpetrators be and more likely it is that
they can be stopped without the use of
force.
Even in cases where intervention is
clearly justified, or even demanded by current international law, it has rarely occurred. Nonintervention in the affairs of
sovereign states is a longstanding tradition,
dating at least from the Treaty of Westphalia in 1648. The principles of state sovereignty and nonintervention have become
part of the U.N. charter, and they greatly
limit the potential of the United Nations to
respond to human rights violations.
For nations and the community of nations to become active bystanders, it is necessary that the pursuit of national interest,
national obligation, and nationhood itself
be defined to include the protection of
human rights and the safety of human beings. This would require a moral vision
about shared responsibility for the protection of human rights and the development
of standards for when nations should act, who
should act, and what actions should be
taken. The existing system mandates action
only in the most extreme situation, genocide, and even this mandate is not followed.
The United Nations pulled its peacekeepers
out of Rwanda when the violence began. As
it became evident that a genocide was in
progress in Rwanda, attempts to send back
peacekeepers were slowed by a refusal to invoke the U.N. Genocide Convention and by
a lack of cooperation among nations, partic-

82
ularly the United States (Gourevich, 1998).
Effective response requires the creation of
institutions to provide early warning and,
even more importantly, to activate responses. The creation of standards and institutions would contribute to a responsible international system in which effective action
could be implemented.

The Types of Actions Required
Early warning is extremely important. A
conceptual system like the one described
here can indicate the need for action,
based on the assessment of life conditions,
group conflict, movement along the continuum of destruction, and cultural characteristics. Others have also proposed ways to
determine the need for action, focusing
not only on existing levels of discrimination and violence but changes in them
(Bond & Vogele, 1995; Charny, 1991; Harff
& Gurr, 1990).
However, in the past, early warning
often has not led to action. Human Rights
Watch publicized the impending danger of
violence in Rwanda and the head of the
U.N. peacekeeping force received information about the impending plans for genocide, but no action occurred.
The United Nations needs to act more
before a genocide occurs. At this time, the
United Nations has to rely on nations for
military force, for sanctions, and even for
powerful condemnation. Since the passivity
of nations is a central issue, there ought to
be institutions or offices within nations
working with the United Nations that have
the responsibility to initiate action in response to danger signs. The process of
developing procedures and institutions can
itself contribute to changing the international climate, to values, commitments, and
operating procedures related to the rights
and well-being of people everywhere.

Direct Violence

If reactions occur early enough, they
may start with high-level private communication. Such communication enables leaders
to change a violent course without losing
face. Public demands can cause leaders who
do not want to appear weak in front of their
followers to resist policy changes. Nations
and the community of nations, speaking
with a firm and unified voice when persecution and violence begin, can reaffirm-and
to some degree reinstate in the eyes of perpetrators-the humanity of the victims. Intervening groups can raise concern among
perpetrators about their own image in the
eyes of the world, and about possible consequences of their actions, which could move
some internal bystanders to action.
In times of crisis, the leaders of the international community should get directly
involved. The course of action in the former
Yugoslavia might have been different if, for
example, critical foreign ministers had traveled to Zagreb and Belgrade immediately
after the Serbs attacked Croatia and
bombed the ancient city of Dubrovnik.
They could have offered help with mediation, with negotiations in resolving issues, as
well as economic and other types of assistance. At the same time, such a delegation
could have firmly and forcefully communicated a resolve not to tolerate further violence, specifying actions they would take if
it continued.
If words and warnings are ineffective,
nations can intensify their response by withholding aid and can progress, if necessary,
to sanctions and boycotts. The earlier such
actions are taken, and the more uniformly
nations abide by them, the more effective
will they be. The participation of many nations helped make the boycott of South
Mrica effective. Sanctions that pressure
leaders directly, for example, by freezing
their assets in foreign banks, can be especially useful. More problematic are long-

Genocide and Mass Killing: Their Roots and Prevention

term sanctions that deprive a population of
the essentials of everyday life, like food and
medication, as in the case of Iraq and Cuba.
When violence is already at a high level,
the time for sanctions as the only response
will have passed. When no other means
exist to save human lives, using an international force can become unavoidable. By
the time force was used in Bosnia, it seemed
the only option available to bring a halt to
violence.

Preventing Collective Violence
Even when there is no imminent danger of
intense violence, instigating conditions and
culture may make future collective violence
probable. In such instances, prevention is
extremely important. The role of outsiders,
of bystanders, of "third parties" is crucial
here as well (Staub, 1996c).
A number of organizations, like Peaceworkers and Peace Brigade International,
send foreign volunteers into countries
where the government or the military appears ready to peIpetrate violence against
some group. Usually, perpetrators do not
want the world to know about their violence
and do not want other countries involved.
As a result, the simple presence of foreign
witnesses can sometimes stop violence at
demonstrations or against individuals whom
the peIpetrators consider undesirable. For
example, in the fall of 1997, a coalition between Peaceworkers and a new youth-led
human rights organization, Global Youthconnect, sent American college students to
be present at student demonstrations in
Kosovo. No violence occurred at these
demonstrations.

Healing and Reconciliation
Helping previously victimized groups heal is
essential to preventing later violence by
them. Acknowledgement of the group's suf-

83

fering and expressions of empathy from
outsiders promote healing. So does people
writing about and talking about what has
happened to them, their family and their
group, and providing support to each other
(Pennebaker & Beall, 1986; Pennebaker et
aI., 1987). Writing and talking about painful
experiences, in small groups, in a context of
mutual empathy and support can help replace the turning inward and disconnection
that come from victimization with connections to other people (Staub & Pearlman,
1996).
Testimonials, memorials, and ceremonies commemorating victimization and
suffering can also promote healing. However, many groups memorialize their suffering in ways that recreate injury and fuel nationalism. For example, Serbs have focussed
on the tremendous injury they suffered in
the defeat of Serb forces by Turks in the
fourteenth century. The sense of injury is
understandable in that Turkey subsequently
ruled Serbia for centuries. But the continued focus on deep national wounds has
been a source both of hostility to Serbs who
in earlier centuries converted to Islam and
of destructive nationalism. It is important,
instead, to create ceremonies that help people grieve and at the same time form connections with others in building a better,
peaceful future.
Frequently, members of the peIpetrator
group feel wounded, either because they
had been previously victimized, or because
the violence has been mutual. They may
also be wounded because killing and making people suffer are actions that wound
(Browning, 1992; Kelman & Hamilton,
1989), as does belonging to a group that has
done that. Both groups may need to heal,
assume responsibility for their actions, and
reconcile. This is extremely difficult soon
after intense group violence. It is easier if at
least important peIpetrators are punished.

84

In places like Rwanda and Bosnia, the way
groups are geographicaIly intertwined
makes reconciliation essential for avoiding
continued cycles of violence. See Agger
(this volume) for a further discussion of
trauma reduction in Bosnia.
Dialogue, Problem-solving Workshops,
and Other Contact
Dialogue between members of hostile
groups can help them heal and reconcile if
it addresses past wounds and fosters mutual
empathy. It can help them find solutions to
practical problems the groups have to resolve in order to live with each other. Researchers and practitioners of conflict resolution have found that bringing members of
hostile groups together who are ready to
talk to each other can lead to mutual acceptance and commitment to improve group
relations (Fisher, 1997; Kelman, 1990; Rothman, 1992).
Creating contact is a significant achievement by itself. Deep engagement with the
"other," ideally under supporting conditions like equality, is important to overcome
negative stereotypes and hostility (Allport,
1954; Pettigrew, 1997). Identifying joint
goals and shared effort in their behalf are
extremely valuable. People can join to rebuild houses destroyed in the course of violence, as some have done in Bosnia. They
can join to help children who lost parents
or have been traumatized by the violence
around them. Healing and reconciliation
can facilitate such contact, while positive
contact itself contributes to healing, resilience (Butler, 1997), and reconciliation.
See Murphy, as well as Niens and Cairns
(both in this volume), for further discussion
of how contact can be constructive in helping perpetrators and previously victimized
people engage in efforts to prevent further
violence.

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Truth Commissions and Tribunals
Truth commissions and tribunals, by establishing what has actuaIIy happened, make it
less likely that perpetrators will be able to
consider themselves victims, which otherwise might lead to renewed violence by
them. A significant contribution of the
Nuremberg tribunals to the creation of German democracy was to show the German
people the horrendous actions of their own
nation, extensively using materials gathered
by the Nazis themselves.
Truth commissions and tribunals, by acknowledging victims' suffering, can promote healing. Affirming that the violence
against them was neither normal nor acceptable can help victims feel safer. The
punishment of perpetrators, especially of
leaders, communicates to the world and to
the formerly victimized group that violence
against groups is not acceptable.
The best way for truth commissions to
operate to achieve these positive ends, and
the right relationship between establishing
the truth and assigning punishment, are
still in the process of evolution. The latest
and best-known example of a truth commission, in South Africa, was effective in enabling some people to tell their stories and
to make the actions of perpetrators public
knowledge. However, some of the people
who were victimized during the apartheid
regime have felt deeply hurt that many perpetrators who confessed what they had
done seemingly without regret or apology
could get amnesty (Hamber, 1998). This is a
complicated matter as well: whom to punish
and for what crimes for the sake of justice
and healing, without punishing so many
people that it creates new wounds that may
interfere with reconciliation. Truth and reconciliation processes established in South
Africa at the end of apartheid are discussed
in detail in this volume by de la Rey.

Genocide and Mass Killing: Their Roots and Prevention

Culture Change: Democratization
By changing aspects of cultures, the likelihood of genocide and mass killing may be
reduced. But groups do not welcome others' attempts to interfere with their culture.
Helping countries with democratization has
been one of the few acceptable ways to create culture change. For example, after the
fall of communism, Eastern European countries welcomed Western help in developing
the institutions that maintain democracy: a
well-functioning, fair judiciary, free and fair
voting practices, party politics, and the creation and strengthening of nongovernmental organizations (Sampson, 1996). Democratic institutions and practices, in tum,
promote pluralism and reduce overly strong
respect for and obedience to authority.

Children: Inclusive Caring
and Moral Courage
While institutions have a life of their own, it
is individuals who maintain both culture
and institutions. Raising children with humane values who care about the welfare of
human beings is an essential avenue to prevention. However, such caring has to be inclusive, has to extend to people outside the
group, in order to make genocide less likely
and active responses to the persecution of
people outside the group more likely. Children also need to develop moral courage,
the ability to stand up for their values. Essential are warmth and affection, positive
guidance by parents and other socializers,
and encouragement of children to actually
help other people, so that they learn by
doing (Eisenberg, 1992; Staub, 1996a).
Other chapters in this volume discuss in
detail programs concerned with the care
and education of children. Hakvoort and
Haglund consider children and peacebuilding, and Coleman and Deutsch describe

85

school programs designed to promote education for a peaceful world.

Prospects for the
Twenty-first Century
The twentieth century saw many genocides
and mass killings. Will these horrors continue into the twenty-first century? Unfortunately, without a system of prevention, this
is likely to be the case. We live amidst
tremendous changes in the world, for example, in technology, modes of communication, the nature of jobs and the globalization of the world economy and culture.
Because of these changes and the spread of
belief in individual rights, including the
rights of women, there will be changes in social roles, family life, and parenting in traditional societies.
As I have noted in discussing difficult
life conditions, great social change puts
great demands on people. This is even true
of positive change. But some of the changes
that are likely to occur, and the reactions
they evoke in traditional societies, will not
be positive. In addition, the discrepancy between rich and poor has been increasing,
adding to the potential for violence. Global
communication that makes poor people
aware of others' wealth is likely to intensify
their sense of injustice.
These conditions are likely to frustrate
basic needs to a substantial degree. They
are likely to intensify a trend that has been
already evident in our century; namely, individuals turning to some group, often
an ethnic, religious, or national group, or
an ideological movement that is capable of
fulfilling their needs for security, identity,
and connection.
To make genocide and mass killing unlikely, prevention becomes essential. The
United Nations' focus on economic development and the improvement in quality of

86

life as a central avenue to prevention, while
important, may not be fast enough or, by itself, sufficient
The U.N. General Assembly has identified eight principles essential to the promotion of a culture of peace: non-violence,
respect for human rights, democracy, tolerance, promotion of development, education for peace, free flow of information, and
wider participation of women. While some
of these are processes and actions that need
to be created, others are outcomes, or end
products. To bring them about requires
some of the preventive efforts I have suggested (and others that are discussed in the
section of this book on peace building) . It
requires positive visions about the future

Direct Violence

and the creation of communities that provide people with identity and connection,
not separation or opposition. These may
best be smaller communities rather than
larger, potentially violent ones. To create
positive visions in difficult times requires
support and help to leaders by "bystanders"
of many kinds. Concentrated efforts by the
community of nations, the United Nations,
and nongovernmental organizations are all
needed. But individual citizens must exert
influence on all these systems and must, on
their own or as members of nongovernmental organizations, directly engage in preventive efforts if genocide and mass killings,
which have devastated the twentieth century, are to end.

CHAPTER 7

WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION
Michael Britton

In this chapter, I will examine weapons of
mass destruction from a psychological perspective. Thanks to modem science, very
large numbers of people can be killed with
just one of these (nuclear, chemical, or biological) weapons. I will consider psychological dynamics common to many people, focusing on two questions: Why was the
buildup of nuclear weapons so massive in
the Cold War that they became central to
that era? What can we expect in the future?
To answer those questions, I will use concepts from clinical psychology, a field that
has had to confront violence and the triumph of rage and hate over empathy, concern, and love for self and others.

A BRIEF HISTORY
Biological weapons have not actually been
used so far (B. H. Rosenberg, personal communication, November 15, 1998). Chemical
weapons (gas) have been used sporadically,
in World War I, in the 1980s Iraq-Iran War,
again by Iraq in killing Kurdish civilians (A.
Smithson, personal communication, November 15, 1998), and by a religious sect leader
in a Tokyo subway (Lifton, 1997). Nuclear
bombs were used by the United States to destroy two Japanese cities near the end of
World War II. In short, the actual use of

weapons of mass destruction has been limited. But tens of thousands of nuclear
weapons were built during the Cold War.
Their destructive power is staggering: The
first thermonuclear bomb had a force equivalent to twenty billion pounds of TNT
(Rhodes, 1995). The four countries involved,
the United States, Britain, and France on one
side and the Soviet Union on the other, targeted those bombs on each other's industry,
mining, communications, transportation, political, and military sites. Many such targets
were located in or near cities, so that war
plans in effect targeted cities (Arkin & Fieldhouse, 1985; Herken, 1985,1992). It was not
just cities that were targeted to disappear,
however, but whole countries. Each side's
nuclear war plans were designed to end the
other's functional existence; the nuclear arsenals were known as "nation killers"
(Rhodes, 1995). The two sides created a situation termed "Mutually Assured Destruction," meaning a nuclear attack by either
guaranteed a nuclear counterattack by the
. other. The arsenals would have acted in concert to destroy the countries that made up
Western civilization, from the United States
and Canada in the west, across Europe to the
far reaches of the Soviet Union in the east.
How did these countries come to make
those weapons a central feature of their

87

88

relations with one another? The answer involves looking at three principles: (1) Understanding behavior in a social system requires looking at the system as a whole; (2)
behavior is not driven by reality, but by our
interpretations of reality; and (3) violence
reinforces the belief that the world belongs
to the strong.

Systems
A system is a set of social groups (countries,
classes, etc.) with so much ongoing interaction that you can't understand the behavior
of anyone party without looking at the interactions among them all. Those interactions are the context within which each decides what to do next. The parties approach
each other with particular expectations/beliefs; once a pattern of interaction fits with
everyone's expectations, interactions tend
to stabilize. The parties try to maintain what
is working for them, a process called homeostasis. Each then appears to have its own
role in the collective "drama" in which the
system is engaged. Systemic dramas tend to
have overarching themes, such as "Empire
Building" or "Globalization."
The Cold War was the overarching
drama of the second half of the twentieth
century. Understanding how that came to
be requires looking at Western civilization
as a single social system. The people in the
Cold War had a very hard time doing that.
To them "The West" and "The Communist
Bloc" were separate worlds. But, in fact, the
countries involved had a history of extensive
interaction and exposure to each other's
ways of thinking; they really were a single
civilization at "war" within itself.

Beliefs Create Behavior
What was it that led the parties to build nuclear weapons? Both sides would have answered that the realities they faced left no

Direct Violence

alternative. The implication is that behavior
is a straightforward response to reality. Clinical psychology suggests otherwise: What determines our reactions to a situation is not
so much the reality before us, but our understanding of that reality. Cognitive therapy, for example, focuses on the thoughts
that automatically come to mind about
given situations. Taken together, such
thoughts form a cognitive schema or set of assumptions by which we interpret what's
going on, what we expect to happen, and
what we decide to do (Beck, 1976; Beck et
aI., 1979).
Milgram's (1974) research on obedience is instructive. He told research subjects
they would be part of a scientific investigation laying the groundwork for medical advances; their role would be to administer
electric shocks to people (who in fact only
pretended to feel pain) to study certain effects. His subjects saw their "subjects"
writhing in (simulated) pain from (simulated) electric shocks; many struggled to set
aside emotional distress at the pain they believed they were causing. They did all this
because they believed the situation involved
accomplishing a good objective in a legitimate manner. This research has a disturbing implication: If we or others understand
weapons of mass destruction to be urgently
needed to advance a vital cause, we will
build them, deploy them, and quite possibly
use them.
If people in four major countries became involved in building nuclear bombs
during the Cold War, we can suspect they,
too, believed they were involved in an urgent, beneficial project requiring them to
do so. And we can suspect that many of
them, like Milgram's subjects, struggled to
set aside feelings they might have had about
endangering hundreds of millions of lives.
There were many other factors that led
them to behave as they did, including do-

Weapons of Mass Destruction

mestic politics in the various countries, organizational/bureaucratic dynamics, international competition, etc. But there is another
factor overlooked in those explanations.
Consider the following: In the aftermath of the world wars, the countries of
Western civilization could have looked back
on the violence in which they'd been embroiled and could have decided the task before them was to work together to construct
a world in which their many peoples could
live safely. Their domestic political campaigns would then have been about who
could do that best, and their bureaucracies
would have tried to increase their budgets
in service of those ends. But that was not
how they interpreted the post-war situation.
They concluded they were in imminent
danger from one another, danger that
could be held at bay by building nuclear
weapons. Clinical psychology would suggest
the basis for that interpretation of the situation had as much to do with the assumptions each held about the world of intergroup relations as with any other factor.
What then were those assumptions? And
how did a set of assumptions leading the
parties to be so dangerous to one another
catch on so widely?

UNDERLYING/CORE
RELATIONAL SCHEMA
You're a member of a country; what goes on
in the world of countries may impact you.
You're a member of an economic-social
class; changes in the class system, and your
location within it, may affect such things as
how much you'll earn and where you'll live.
You may be part of a national or ethnic
group whose future will shape yours as well.
Your skin color locates you in widely differing mindsets people have about "race."
Each of those role-worlds (country, class,
etc.) involves a mental "map" of the parties

89
that make up that world, the ways you can
expect them to behave, and your options
for dealing with them. Cognitive therapists
use the term schema (or assumptive set) to
refer to assumptions that might underlie
your behavior in all those different situations. A parallel term from psychoanalytic
thinking is core relational theme. I will use a
slightly different language. A surface schema
"maps" one of the role-worlds I just listed. A
set of assumptions underlying a number of
those schemas is an underlying/core relational
schema. I am suggesting two things. A core
relational schema developed in the thinking
in Western civilization in regard to all kinds
of intergroup relations. Second, that underlying assumptive set played a large role in
creating the World Wars and the Cold War.
If you examine the history of Western
civilization in the centuries leading up to
World War I, you'll find themes of coercion
and resistance had been evolving for a long
time in the interactions between countries;
social/economic classes (monarchs, aristocrats, middle classes, working classes, underclasses); traditional regimes and revolutionaries; national groups and the governments
from whom they sought autonomy; imperial
powers in relation to each other and those
they fought to colonize; and between Whites
and other races in the course of imperialism. No matter which kind of relationship
was involved, the protagonists readily saw
themselves as involved in struggles over
power, with power viewed as "zero sum"
(what one party gained another necessarily
lost). They often believed the decision
about which party would have its way would
be settled by force. That core set of assumptions was summed up by Morgenthau
(1948): "[Ilnternational politics, like all
politics, is a struggle for power" (p. 31).
People assumed (a) governments are determined to get their way even if it means
going to war to do so; (b) conflict is in-

90
evitable, the world is dangerous; and (c) the
more military force you can wield, the safer
you will be.
It's not that there weren't competing core
relational schemas; there almost always are.
Within psychoanalytic thinking, the Kleinian model sees competing underlying
schemas as expressions of one or the other
of two fundamental core schemas (Ogden,
1989). The first involves destroying inner
concern for others in order to pursue our
own agenda; the second involves keeping a
reign on action because it might be harmful
to others. The first focuses on self without
concern for others, the second inhibits self
because others matter. The world obviously
becomes a very different place depending
on which of these underlies how the members of a system treat one another.
There is a relationship between the two
Kleinian core relational schemas (my language) and systemic dramas. Those dramas
(e.g., "industrialization," "empire-building,"
"globalization") are used to organize social
systems. But they involve choices about
which Kleinian intent to act on: concern for
one's own agenda or concern for others.
Nonnally the two exist in a kind of balance.
But the more frequently one or the other is
chosen throughout a system, the more it
moves to the foreground and defines the
collective drama.

SYSTEMIC SPIRALS

As the twentieth century dawned, the zerosum readiness to deprive, exploit, or kill
others in pursuit of an objective was certainly not the only intent motivating leaders
in the circles of power across Western civilization. It was one schema competing with
others of more benign intent. But tllere was
a gathering momentum to emphasize that
assumptive set. It was understood that government leaders in various countries would

Direct Violence

resort to military force "when necessary" to
get their way, a belief that became more entrenched as it was acted on in more spheres
of life, from handling urban riots, to small
wars, to conquering Mrica and territories in
the Pacific, etc. With actions provoking
counter-actions, the "drama" of the early
twentieth century was being defined as a set
of power-struggles to be settled by force. As
countries, colonies, national groups, and
classes tried to impose their own objectives,
they reinforced each other's belief that the
world belonged to those with the power to
impose their will. With many parties treating each other in accordance with that
schema, a momentum developed in the system that made it hard for anyone party to
stop, a dynamic referred to as a vicious spiral
(Senge, 1990).

Escalating Violence
We have learned from the field of domestic
violence counseling that each act of violence can set the stage for more extreme
subsequent violence. An analogous process
took place in Western civilization, in part as
a result of developments in the organization
of armies and in the power of weapons. The
development of the nation-state produced
large citizen annies, blurring the line between civilians and the military (Adas et al.,
1996; Anderson, 1991). Industrialization of
warfare led to half a million soldiers being
killed in single battles lasting several weeks
(e.g., the Battle at Somme) and blurred the
civilian/military distinction further. Bombing factory workers to demoralize them was
regarded as a way to break an enemy's will
to wage industrialized war. Hitler ordered
the bombing of civilian England; the Western allies pursued the bombing of Gennan
cities to the point of firebombing Dresden,
killing 200,000, though the city had no military value. The Allies firebombed 74Japan-

Weapons of Mass Destruction

ese cities, and destroyed the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki with atomic bombs
(Rhodes, 1995). By the time the warring
that began in 1914 finally ended in 1945, 60
million had been killed (Sivard, 1988).
Killing hundreds of thousands of civilians in
cities had come to seem normal. Adding nuclear weapons to the picture seemed like an
extension of a now-standard practice. With
each crossing of the line as to what was acceptable militarized violence, more extreme
violence had become thinkable, until even
"nation killing" seemed to make sense.

POST-TRAUMATIC THINKING
The survivors of World War II had lived
through the nighunare of 38 countries at
war, punctuated by horrific atrocities and
genocidal assaults (Balakian, 1997; Chang,
1997; Lifton, 1986), and then got the news
about the development of nuclear weapons
and the devastation they create. Clearly governments could have seriously murderous
intent, and now they could implement that
intent with nuclear weapons. People on
both sides of the Iron Curtain had the kinds
of thoughts and feelings people could be
expected to have in the wake of horrific violence (Herman, 1992): They were in dread
of being unprepared for a surprise attack,
and they felt a need to amass superior force
in order to feel safe. Given existing beliefs
that the world of intergroup relations was
about power, and having witnessed such violence, it was easy for the different parties to
assume the worst about each other and to
believe the only way to be safe was to build
nuclear weapons. In fact, neither side intended to invade the other, but neither
could bring itself to trust the other (Organski & Kugler, 1980). Fear fueled angry
determination to build more weapons;
more weapons fueled more fear and anger

91
(Wessells, 1995). It seemed a spiral with no
escape.

ANALYSIS
By acting on the intention of setting aside
concern for others in order to pursue an
agenda, people in Western civilization built
up a tradition of resorting to that schema in
their dealings with one another as countries, classes, national groups, etc. With so
many people included in those groups, and
with the value of coercion in one area reinforced by what was going on in other areas,
momentum grew to conduct intergroup relations according to this belief. The violence
of the resultant world warring further reinforced their belief in the danger posed by
potential adversaries. Adoption of coercion
as a way of life in intergroup relations thus
reinforced itself in a vicious spiral, producing a widely accepted expectation of the
worst and a belief in building as powerful a
set of weapons as one could. While there
were many historical influences, interactive
missteps, and psychological processes involved, it was the widening and deepening
of belief throughout the system that led its
members to fear and hate each other so
much, and to build nuclear weapons against
each other on such a massive scale.

IMPUCATIONS
This analysis of the psychological dynamic
that made nuclear weapons central in the
Cold War can guide our thinking about
whether such weapons will play a central
role in the future. The depth and pervasiveness of the assumption that the world is
about who can impose their will on others is
the key to the role weapons of mass destruction will play in the century ahead. The
greater the pervasiveness of that core relational schema, and the greater the violence

92
surrounding it, the more rigidly it will be accentuated and the greater the risk of a vicious spiral accompanied by widespread
building of those weapons.

A CHANGING DRAMA
With the demise of the Cold War, it was not
clear whether the momentum toward more
of these weapons would increase or decrease. Mter the collapse of the Soviet
Union, regional enemies on its borders who
hadn't feared each other in the past (because their actions were contained by Soviet
influence) now had to face each other unprotected. Nuclear weapons held appeal as
a means of guaranteeing safety, but the enemies being feared would have the same
idea. There was little confidence that international controls for preventing proliferation would keep these enemies from building such weapons (Wessells, 1995). The
weapons also held allure as ways to infuse
struggling countries with pride as "real"
global players (Ghosh, 1998; Roy, 1998). In
addition, a number of former Soviet republics had nuclear weapons on their soil;
Soviet scientists were out of work. The incentive to sell nuclear weapons or anything
related to them seemed great. If nuclear
weapons had been widespread during the
Cold War, the concern was that they would
become even more widespread after its end.
The effort to retard the momentum
toward nuclearization had begun in the
1960s with the Partial Test Ban Treaty. Subsequent treaties banned atomic weapons in
Antarctica, Latin America, the South Pacific, Southeast Asia, the ocean floor, and
outer space. Nuclear risk reduction centers
were created, the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty
and the Comprehensive Test Ban signed
(Sivard, 1996), along with the Nuclear NonProliferation Treaty, which required the nuclear powers "to pursue ... cessation of the
nuclear arms race at an early date ...

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[along with] nuclear disarmament, and ...
general and complete disarmament under
strict and effective international control"
(U.S. Department of State, 1971).
While the nuclear powers regard their
weapons as critical to maintaining geopolitical status, the defining global theme seems
to be shifting from superpowers and geopolitical conflict to super-corporations, globalized economic competition, and information technologies. That shift in the
surface schema may also involve change
in the core assumptions underlying intergroup relations: Maybe the world will not
be about power and danger; maybe
weaponry will not define the future. Iraq
and North Korea are viewed as pockets
where the old mindset still holds sway and
weapons of mass destruction still pose a
threat. There is hope that as the Cold War
continues to recede in time, the residual
presence of the old schema (violence as the
path to safety and prestige) will fade in
these pockets as well.
A second kind of concern also exists. I
have described how a schema that is fairly
ruthless in nature can dominate people's
conception of intergroup relations, even
though they personally may be oriented to
positive social relationships in everyday life.
But there are individuals whose personality
structures are organized around belief in
exploitation, danger, and the utility of
killing, regardless of whether the larger social drama supports such themes or not. Individuals whose personalities contain a large
component of psychopathy (predatory behavior, a preference for being dangerous to
others) or delusional paranoia (sense of
others as dangerous) at a level where killing
is regarded as potentially useful, can organize extremely dangerous projects if given
the chance, including the development of
weapons of mass destruction. Those high in
psychopathy are more likely to lead organizations in which psychopathic themes per-

Weapons of Mass Destruction

sist on the social level, such as criminal cartels. Those high in delusional paranoia
(with religious content) are more likely to
organize religious cults.
The potential threats from "residual
pockets," criminal cartels, and cults involve
the risk of a small number of weapons of
mass destruction. What about the potential
for their large-scale deployment? Will the
nuclear powers eventually disband their still
immense arsenals? Will there be a build-up
of such weapons on a large scale in the future? The answers depend on whether the
core assumptions that led to their widespread deployment in the past change or
not. If the underlying relational schema
that the world is about achieving objectives
at whatever cost to others continues to be
pervasive, "globalization" will be susceptible
to deteriorating into another vicious spiral,
replete with large numbers of nuclear,
chemical, and/or biological weapons. If the
core schema survives on a pervasive basis,
such weapons will be widely built. If it does
not, they won't. The question is how to detect whether the underlying relational
schema is changing or not.

INDICANTS OF CHANGE
Adapting the Kleinian model (Ogden, 1989)
to this problem, we should be looking to see
how widely intergroup relations are based
on assumptions that: (a) groups (countries,
classes, national groups, etc.) are absorbed in
making relationships mutually empowering;
(b) with a resultant sense that the world is safe
(from threats of coercion, intimidation and
violence); and (c) with no one thinking that
accumulating means for violence is a path to
safety or success. To the degree these assumptions underlie the surface schema in intergroup relations and generate a self-reinforcing momentum (Senge's virtuous spiraQ,
weapons of mass destruction will likely not
playa large role in the future. Determining

93
which set of core assumptions underlie intergroup relations is the key to predicting the future role of these weapons.

MOVING FROM A DANGEROUS
WORLD TO A SAFE WORLD
Hennan's (1992) model of recovery from
trauma suggests a set of indicants of change
from an underlying belief in the world as
dangerous to an underlying belief in safety,
with indicants grouped in three categories.
The first group indicates movement out of
the old schema (with their absence suggesting a lack of change in core assumptions despite changes in the surface historical
drama). The second indicates a transition
between assumptive sets, while the third indicates consolidation of the new set.

Category I: Establishing Safety
The first signs of substantive change from
assuming the world is about coercion involve concrete actions that undo investment
in intimidation. Four such indicants will be
outlined.
First, are the existing nuclear arsenals
still ready for launch on short notice? Do
nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons
still exist? ''Yes'' answers indicate a continued assumption that the world is organized
around coercion. Their elimination (Schell,
1998) would indicate a government no
longer worried that this is so.
Second, building and deploying weapons
of mass destruction draws substantial resources away from projects that could keep
people alive. The United States spent some
$10.5 trillion on the Cold War military effort
(Markusen & Yudken, 1992); the four nuclear powers spent an estimated $8 trillion on
their nuclear weapons (Sivard, 1996). As of
J.996, the United States continued to spend
$26 billion to $39 billion per year on nuclear
weapons (Sivard, 1996). Millions could have

94

lived had those resources been allocated to
projects needed to keep them alive (Christie,
1997). Current annual U.S. expenditures for
nuclear weapons, for example, could pay the
yearly cost of the following life-saving measures globally: elimination of starvation and
malnutrition ($19 billion); basic shelter ($21
billion); health care and AIDS control ($21
billion); refugee relief ($5 billion); removal
of land mines ($2 billion) (World Game Institute, 1997). Should major governments
shift investment of that magnitude from
these weapons to programs that keep people
alive (rather than, for example, the next generation of high-tech products unrelated to
survival), that reallocation would indicate a
shift in the core sense of the meaning of relationships. The more resources shift from militarization to keeping people alive, and the
more parties engage in that reallocation, the
greater the indication of substantive change
in the intentions being brought to intergroup relations.
Third, critical to breaking the pattern
of dangerous interactions among governments is their relating to each other differently, including accepting mutual responsibility for the danger they jointly create
(Blight & Lany, 1995; White, 1984). That
process was modeled in research interventions by Blight and Lany, in which Americans, Russians, and Cubans examined together their roles in the Cuban Missile
Crisis of 1962. The greater the shift by government leaders from jockeying for advantage to trying to understand together what
went wrong and what each party could
themselves do to make things collectively
work better, the more likely governments
will be able to stop making the world as violent as they have made it in the past.
Fourth, the surface focus of the global
drama is shifting from conflicts among governments to globalization of economic competition. In economics, worst-£ase scenarios

Direct Violence

involve economic collapse rather than nuclear war. That step away from military
violence may reflect small but positive
movement. If the driving intent behind
globalization remains at the level of epic
business projects pursued at the expense of
others, little substantive change will have occurred at the core schema level, and the
global system will be at risk of remilitarizing
relationships. If the shift to an economic
drama is the first step in an ongoing evolution such that the driving intent behind
economic endeavors becomes helping
everyone (globally) stay alive and have a
decent life, that would indicate substantive change in the underlying relational
schema. It is important to remember that
global enterprises not only perform the
tasks at hand, they enact one or another
core schema and thereby move it to the
fore. The objectives pursued by these enterprises and by countries will define for our
children and grandchildren the answer to
this question: Is this a world of coercers and
predators (in which only weapons ultimately create safety), or a world of collaborative good intent that actually works? Projects like the U.N. effort led by Graca
Machel to end the impact of war on children (United Nations, 1996; Wessells, 1998)
answer that our relationships can be driven
by a concern to be protective of one another, or at least protective of one another's
children. The more that global enterprises
are driven by that primary purpose, the less
likely the future will involve widespread deployment of weapons of mass destruction.

Category II: Narration,
Remembrance, and Mourning
Category II indicants mark the subtle shifts
that occur during the transition between assumptive sets. These indicants have to do
with the narratives (media reports, political

Weapons of Mass Destruction

speeches, history texts) produced by the various parties to global relations. As people
move from one assumptive set to the other,
the nature of their narratives goes through
changes that reflect those shifts.
The core schema in which parties pursue their own gain with little regard for the
cost to others generates narratives driven by
the agendas of various parties to dominate
or resist domination. Narration is propaganda. Narratives of nationalism become
epic tales of timeless glory from which ignoble moments are erased and the experiences of enemies dismissed. The public
voice of the dominated is silenced.
A shift from forging words and images
as instruments in struggles over power and
justification to reflectively putting into
words one's historical experience (narratives
of identity) indicates some shift at the core
schema level. That shift can be seen in two
different kinds of identity narratives, those
of the intimidated or oppressed and those
who have dominated. Signs of change in the
latter include admission of wrongdoing,
recognition of the impact of past (or present) actions on others, reflection with compassion for their own experience, and exploration of the practices and ideas used to
harden them against empathy so that domination could be a "livable" way of life. In
both cases, the indicant of change is a shift
in what preoccupies the authors from establishing justification for further power struggles to struggling to get a clear sense of
identity in the context of intergroup history,
with the moral complexity of what has been
taking place.
Further change is indicated by a shift
from narratives of identity to multi-sided narration which involves the principle that leaders and ordinary people from all sides must
be interviewed or quoted, and that each
side must be presented as having a story to
tell. Genuine multi-sided narration can be

95
recognized by a concern to present the history of interactions and intentions in such a
way that all sides can find their own dignity
in what they hear or view. It entails giving
voice to the hopes and suffering of all the
sides, with a reflection of their intentions and
efforts, as well as actions they took that obstructed peace, unintentional or otherwise.
Serious desire to understand self and
others in context, with both goodness and
moral flaws, leads to a shift in tone as well.
Multi-sided remembrance carries an undertone of poignancy, as suffering and loss are
revisited, given dignity and context. Righteous belligerence can have an exciting ring,
but multi-sided remembrance faces difficult
questions: How is it that they, who were
agents of so much of our pain, were also
only human? How it is that we who were so
good hurt innocent others? What might life
have been, had we all been more generous
to each other? There is a poignancy to the
fact that, despite righteousness and even
rightness, much has been lost. Perhaps the
most difficult shift has to do with hatred
(conscious or unconscious) that is completely identified with, whether it involves
determined suppression! deprivation of others by people in power, or unremitting hatred by people out of power. Letting go of
hate and control as centers around which
identity is organized, and allowing for sorrow and less emphasis on control, along
with forming relationships with those who
were hated, is very painful and takes time.
But without that shift, re-creating danger
comes easily. What should be evident behind
the words and images in the narrative struggling through these issues is a sense of care
to help the parties have a more complex understanding and a deeper feel for themselves
and for each other, so they can go forward
into the future more constructively.
The emergence of multi-sided narration signals a shift from being locked in the

96

drama (and core schema) of the past, to
looking back upon both with a growing
sense that "it is behind us, it is over." Ebbing
of belief in pursuing agendas no matter who
gets hurt is a harbinger of assumptive sets in
which kinder possibilities can come to life.
Transit between underlying schema can be
recognized in the movement from propaganda to narratives of identity to thoughtful
efforts at understanding together how life
works and how together it can be made to
work better.

Category III: Building Relationships
on New Values
Category III indicants reflect consolidation
of the assumption that the primary interest
of all parties in the global drama is making
life a good experience together. What are
the signals of that shift?
Beyond the effects associated with
dominance and resistance (fear, anger,
shame, contempt, moral hostility) lies a
very different kind of feeling for life.
Ezrahi (1997) focused on a change in personal psychology among "ordinary peopie." A self that can resist epic calls to die
in war for a "great cause" begins with individuals wanting not to die, i.e., with experiencing personal life as a precious gift to be
cherished. He suggests a person who loves
her/his own aliveness can feel a compelling affection for life in others and
make of relationships something other
than the calculus of power. Sustaining love
of life, he suggests, requires working to
identify and give voic\to personal experience, which in turn ma~_.EC)ssible empathy for the personal experience of others.
Krystal's (1988) work on trauma focuses on
change from the sense of catastrophic danger to a renewed capacity to feel emotions
(vs. alexithymia) and to love life (vs. anhe-

Direct Violence

donia). He redefined the central affect in
life not as anxiety (as Freud held) but as
love, seeing it as the basis for empathy. By
implication, both authors suggest looking
for a sustained tone of delight in the organization oflife.
We can extend this to looking for the
building of public purpose out of supporting a life well-loved by all parties. For example, Jervis (1976) postulated a politics of
"generosity" in which a group gives what
another needs even though it is not compelled by power considerations to do so.
Markusen and Yudken (1992) wrote about
"nurturing" economics, raising the question of what the economic world would be
like if decisions and policies were primarily
driven by a desire to see others do well in
life. Nelesson (1993) developed an urban
planning methodology for helping people
envision their community's physical structure in ways they experience as beautiful as
well as evocative of pleasure and affection,
and then assists them in bringing that vision to fruition. This involves regaining
shared control over life (effective democracy) and gives a message that people
should value/love their own feelings about
beauty, affection, and pleasure in life
enough to act on them. Alexander's (1979;
Alexander et al., 1977) work on architecture conveys the sense that public life can
focus on supporting the interactions in
which life is loved. The administration of
Jamie Lerner, an architect-mayor in Curitiba, Brazil, provides a demonstration of
putting such intentions and attitudes in
practice on a city-wide level, along with the
impact on the populace's feel of life (Mc
Kibben, 1995).
Indicants that the alternative Kleinian
assumptive set underlies global intergroup
relations involve a shift in the intent driving
public institutions and a resultant change in

97

Weapons of Mass Destruction

the affective tone in public life. There needs
to be a predominance globally, in political
and economic problem-solving and decision-making, of an underlying feel for the
gift of life, and evidence that the formulating and implementation of public purpose
centers on all parties responsibly making a
life together that they love. That would be
the strongest indicant of core change and
the strongest predictor that weapons of
mass destruction will not be a central feature of the future.

CONCLUSION
This chapter examined the underlying assumptive set that led to building weapons of
mass destruction on a large scale and the
processes that give that set the power to
dominate the Cold War era. The key to
whether such weapons will be widely built in
the future lies in whether the dominant assumptive set changes or not. Indicants for
recognizing the degree of change have
been presented.

SECTION II

STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE
Introduction by
Deborah Du Nann Winter
and Dana C. Leighton

Direct violence is horrific, but its brutality usually gets our attention: we notice it, and often respond to it. Structural violence, however, is almost always invisible, embedded in ubiquitous
social structures, normalized by stable institutions and regular experience. Structural violence
occurs whenever people are disadvantaged by political, legal, economic, or cultural traditions.
Because they are longstanding, structural inequities usually seem ordinary-the way things are
and always have been. But structural violence produces suffering and death as often as direct
violence does, though the damage is slower, more subde, more common, and more difficult
to repair. The chapters in this section teach us about some important but invisible forms of
structural violence, and alert us to the powerful cultural mechanisms that create and maintain
them over generations.
Johan Galtung originally framed the term "structural violence" to mean any constraint on
human potential caused by economic and poIltical structures (1969). Unequal access to resources, to political power, to education, to health care, or to legal standing, are forms of
structural violence. When inner-city children have inadequate schools while others do not,
when gays and lesbians are fired for their sexual orientation, when laborers toil in inhumane
conditions, when people of color endure environmental toxins in their neighborhoods, structural violence exists. Unfortunately, even those who are victims of structural violence often do
not see the systematic ways in which their plight is choreographed by unequal and unfair distribution of society's resources. Such is the insidiousness of structural violence.
Structural violence is problematic in and of itself, but it is also dangerous because it frequendy leads to direct violence. The chronically oppressed are often, for logical reasons,
those who resort to direct violence. Organized armed conflict in various parts of the world is
easily traced to structured inequalities. Northern Ireland, for example, has been marked by
economic disparities between Northern Irish Catholics-who have higher unemployment
rates and less formal education-and Protestants (Cairns & Darby, 1998). In Sri Lanka, youth
unemployment and underemployment exacerbates ethnic conflict (Rogers, Spencer, & Uyangoda, 1998). In Rwanda, huge disparities in both income and social status between the Hutu
and Tutsis eventually led to ethnic massacres.

99

100

Structural Violence

While structural violence often leads to direct violence, the reverse is also true, as brutality
terrorizes bystanders, who then become unwilling or unable to confront social injustice. Increasingly, civilians pay enormous costs of war, not only through death, but through devastation of neighborhoods and ecosystems. Ruling elites rarely suffer from armed conflict as
much as civilian populations do, who endure decades of poverty and disease in war-tom societies.
Recognizing the operation of structural violence forces us to ask questions about how and
why we tolerate it, questions that often have painful answers. The first chapter in this section,
"Social Injustice," by Susan Opotow, argues that our normal perceptual/cognitive processes
lead us to care about people inside our scope of justice, but rarely care about those people
outside. Injustice that would be instantaneously confronted if it occurred to someone we love
or know is barely noticed if it occurs to strangers or those who are invisible or irrelevant to us.
We do not seem to be able to open our minds and our hearts to everyone; moral exclusion is a
product of our normal cognitive processes. But Opotow argues convincingly that we can reduce its nefarious effects by becoming aware of our distorted perceptions. Inclusionary thinking can be fostered by relationships, communication, and appreciation of diversity.
One outcome of exclusionary thinking is the belief that victims of violence must in some
way deserve their plight. But certainly it is easy to see that young children do not deserve to be
victims. The next two chapters in this section address the violence experienced by children. In
the first, "The War Close to Home: Children and Violence in the United States," Kathleen
Kostelny and James Garbarino describe the direct and structural violence which children in
Chicago and other urban areas of the United States endure, paralleling that experienced by
children who live in countries at war. Children who endure these environments often become
battle weary, numb, hopeless, and/or morally impaired. But children not only suffer directly
from violence, they also suffer from the impaired parenting and communities which poverty
inflicts. The authors describe how community and family support mechanisms can mitigate
these effects. For example, home visitation and early childhood education programs provide
crucial family and community support.
While Kostelny and Garbarino focus on community intervention techniques, Milton
Schwebel and Daniel Christie, in their article "Children and Structural Violence," extend the
analysis of structural violence by examining how economic and psychological deprivation impairs at-risk children. Children living in poverty experience diminished intellectual development because parents are too overwhelmed to be able to provide crucial linguistic experiences. Schwebel and Christie's discussion concludes that economic structures must provide
parents with living-wage employment, good prenatal medical care, and high-quality child-care
ifwe are to see the next generation develop into the intelligent and caring citizens needed to
create a peaceful world.
If children are the invisible victims of society's structural violence, so are their mothers. In
the chapter "Women, Girls, and Structural Violence: A Global Analysis," Diane Mazurana and
Susan McKay articulate the many ways in which global sexism systematically denies females access to resources. From health care and food to legal standing and political power, women
and girls get less than males in every country on the planet. Mazurana and McKay argue that
patriarchy-based structural violence will not be redressed until women are able to play more
active roles making decisions about how resources are distributed.

Structural Violence

101

Patriarchal values also drive excessive militarism, as Deborah Winter, Marc Pilisuk, Sara
Houck, and Matthew Lee argue in their chapter "Understanding Militarism: Money, Masculinism, and the Search for the Mystical.· The authors illuminate three motives fueling excessive
military expenditures: money, which, because of modem market forces, leads half the world's
countries to spend more on arms than on health and education combined; masculinism,
which leads societies to make soldiering a male rite of passage and proof of manhood; and the
search for the mystical, as men attempt to experience profound human processes of selfsacrifice, honor, and transcendence through war. Like William James, these authors argue
that we will need to find a moral equivalent to war, in order to build lasting peace.
The global economy that drives weapons production and excessive militarization produces structural violence on a planetary scale, especially in developing countries, which Marc
Pilisuk argues in his chapter "Globalism and Structural Violence." AIl global markets grow, income disparity increases around the world. Relaxed trade regulations and increased communication networks are creating powerful multinational conglomerates that derive huge profits
from exploiting underpaid laborers in developing countries. The result is horrific structural
violence to workers who toil under brutal conditions. Globalism also produces a monoculture,
in which people throughout the world learn that "the good life" is based on consumer values.
Pilisuk shows how nongovernmental organizations at the local level can organize globally to
reclaim workers' dignity.
Finally, Brinton Lykes's chapter, "Human Rights as Structural Violence," shows how structural violence is invisible when human rights are conceived simply in civic and political
realms. She argues for the expansion of human rights to include collective, cultural, and indigenous rights, which guarantee people their traditional culture and relationship with their
land. Using two case studies, Guatemala and Argentina, she shows how collective rights help
people heal and reclaim their cultural identities.
Lykes's discussion, as well as each of the chapters in this section, help us see the limitations of psychology as it is traditionally conceived, that is, the study of individuals and their responses to their environments. These papers require that we examine the political and economic institutions that psychologists typically ignore. In this respect, the thinking in both
Sections II (Structural Violence) and IV (Peacebuilding) of this book go beyond traditional
psychology, illuminating the sociological, economic, political, and spiritual dimensions ofviolence and peace.
AIl insidious as structural violence is, each of these papers also point out that it is not inevitable. Learning about structural violence may be discouraging and overwhelming, but all
the authors in this section note that the same processes which feed structural violence can
also be used to address it. Reducing structural violence by reclaiming neighborhoods, demanding social justice and living wages, providing prenatal care, alleviating sexism, organizing globally while celebrating local cultures, and finding non-militaristic avenues to express
our deepest spiritual motives, will be our most surefooted path to building lasting peace.

CHAPTER 8

SOCIAL INJUSTICE
Susan Opotow1

SOCIAL INJUSTICE
Social injustice challenges us to recognize
the ordinarily invisible hanns that are inflicted but not seen, and the rationalizations
and justifications that support them. This
chapter shows how both direct and structural violence depend on distorted perceptions, thoughts, and moral decisions, and
suggests a framework for fostering inclusion, social justice, and peace in the twentyfirst century.

DIRECT AND STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE
Violence is the exertion of physical force so as
to injure or abuse. Johan Galtung (1969) directs our attention to overt vs. more subtle
forms of violence. Direct violence is immediate, concrete, physical violence committed
by and on particular, identifiable people.
Even when it is committed from afar, as in
missile launches, particular people decide
what to do, particular people activate
weaponry at a particular moment, and particular people are victims.
Structural violence, in contrast, is less obvious than direct violence. It is gradual, imperceptible, and normalized as the way

things are done; it determines whose voice
is systemically heard or ignored, who gets
particular resources, and who goes without.
In structural violence, agency is blurred and
responsibility is unclear; there may not be
anyone person who directly harms another.
Structural violence normalizes unequal access to such social and economic resources
as education, wealth, quality housing, civic
services, and political power.
Direct and structural violence have different manifestations, but they are clearly related
and interdependent. Ethnic cleansing, a euphemism for mass murder motivated by ethnic conflict, is direct violence that results from
many kinds of structural violence, forces
which have intertwined in "a long-forgotten
history coming back to haunt us, a history full
of thousands of economic, social, ethical, territorial, cultural and political problems that
remained latent and unnoticed under the surface of totalitarian boredom" (Vaclav Havel,
quoted by Burns, 1992, p. 3).
On the other hand, direct violence can
give rise to long-term structural violence. Rape
as a weapon ofwar has long-lived effects on victims and their society. Raped individuals are
often reluctant to come forward because they
fear exacerbating the debasement they and

lThe author would like to thank her graduate student, R. Kirk Fallis, and the three editors of this volume.

102

Social Injustice

their families have already experienced. In
some societies, mass rape has produced social,
economic, and political inequalities; for example, in 1998, rape directed at Chinese
women in Indonesia was tactically employed
to wrest control of Indonesia's commerce
away from Chinese citizens (Mydans, 1998).

MORAL EXCLUSION
Both structural and direct violence result
from moral justifications and rationalizations. MlJ1'als are the norms, rights, entitlements, obligations, responsibilities, and duties that shape our sense of justice and
guide our behavior with others (Deutsch,
1985). Morals operationalize our sense of
justice by identifying what we owe to whom,
whose needs, views, and well-being count,
and whose do not. Our morals apply to people we value, which define who is inside our
scope ofjustice (or "moral community"), such
as family members, friends, compatriots,
and coreligionists (Deutsch, 1974, 1985;
Opotow, 1990; Staub, 1989). We extend
considerations of fairness to them, share
community resources with them, and make
sacrifices for them that foster their wellbeing (Opotow, 1987, 1993).
We see other kinds of people such as
enemies or strangers outside our scope of
justice; they are morally excluded. Gender,
ethnicity, religious identity, age, mental capacity, sexual orientation, and political affiliation are some criteria used to define
moral exclusion. Excluded people can be
hated and viewed as "vermin" or "plague" or
they can be seen as expendable non-entities. In either case, disadvantage, hardship,
and exploitation inflicted on them seems
normal, acceptable, and just-as "the way
things are" or the way they "ought to be."
Fairness and deserving seem irrelevant
when applied to them and harm befalling
them elicits neither remorse, outrage, nor

103

demands for restitution; instead, harm inflicted on them can inspire celebration.
Many social issues and controversies,
such as aid to school drop-<luts, illegal immigrants, ·welfare moms," people who are
homeless, substance abusers, and those infected with mv are essentially moral debates about who deserves public resources,
and thus, ultimately, about moral inclusion.
When we see other people's circumstances
to be a result of their moral failings, moral
exclusion seems warranted. But when we
see others' circumstances as a result of
structural violence, moral exclusion seems
unwarranted and unjust.

Psychological Bases
for Moral Exclusion
While it is psychologically more comfortable
to perceive harm-doers to be evil or demented, we each have boundaries for justice. Our moral obligations are stronger toward those close to us and weaker toward
those who are distant. When the media reports suffering and death in Cambodia, El
Salvador, Nicaragua, the former Yugoslavia,
and Rwanda, we often fail-as a nation, as
communities, and as individuals--to protest
or to provide aid. Rationalizations include
insufficient knowledge of the political dynamics, the futility of doing much of use,
and not knowing where to begin. Our tendency to exclude people is fostered by a
number of normal perceptual tendencies:
1. Social categorization. Our tendency to
group and classify objects, including social
categories, is ordinarily innocuous, facilitating acquisition of information and memory
(Tajfel & Wilkes, 1963). Social categorizations can become invidious, however, when
they serve as a basis for rationalizing structural inequality and social injustice. For example, race is a neutral physical characteris-

104

tic, but it often becomes a value-loaded
label, which generates unequal treatment
and outcomes (Archer, 1985; T;~jfel, 1978).
2. Evaluative judgments. Our tendency to
make simple, evaluative, dichotomous judgments (e.g., good and bad, like and dislike)
is a fundamental feature of human perception. Evaluative judgments have cognitive,
affective, and moral components. From a
behavioral, evolutionary, and social learning perspective, evaluative judgments have
positive adaptive value because they provide
feedback that protects our well-being (Edwards & von Rippel, 1995; Osgood, Suci, &
Tannenbaum, 1957). Evaluative judgments
can support structural violence and exclusionary thinking, however, when they lend a
negative slant to perceived difference. Ingroup·outgroup and we-them thinking can
result from social comparisons made on dimensions that maximize a positive social
identity for oneself or one's group at the expense of others (Tajfel, 1982).
3. Fundamental attribution error. We tend
to attribute our own behavior to situational
factors but attribute others' behavior to
their personalities or dispositions (Jones &
Nisbett, 1971). This attribution bias occurs
because situational factors influencing others are less obvious to us than the nuances
of our own social situation. As a result, our
characterological attributions about others
can be harsh or unflattering because we do
not see the complex contextual factors that
influence their behavior. In interpersonal
feuds and in intergroup wars, an adversary's
position and interests are depicted as more
simple than the complex contingencies and
extenuating circumstances influencing our
own behavior.
4. Self-serving biases. Social comparisons
often result in moral judgments with egocentric biases (Messick & Sentis, 1979). Selfserving perceptions and judgments magnify
others' imperfections and lead us to cast

Structural Violence

others as less deserving than ourselves
(Miller & Ross, 1975). Research on enemy
images (cf., Holt & Silverstein, 1989;
Volkan, 1988; White, 1984) and ethnocentric conflict (cf., Brewer, 1979; LeVine &
Campbell, 1972) document our tendency to
see adversaries as frightening, untrustworthy, or immoral.
5. Zero-sum thinking. Although many
conflicts can be resolved with some mutual
gains for disputants, we tend to view conflicts as zero-sum so that gains for one mean
losses for the other (Deutsch, 1973). This
perceived-but often exaggerated and inaccurate-incompatibility of interests can
generate negative attitudes, prejudice, bias,
and hostility (Campbell, 1965).
6. Attributive projection. Our tendency to
perceive our own views as correct and universal can make it difficult to prevent them
from intruding on and interfering with our
inferences about others (Higgins, 1981;
Ross & Fletcher, 1985). Imagining others'
views as indistinguishable from our own
supports the belief that our own social reality is correct and helps us avoid intrapsychic
tensions that could result from realizing
that others' beliefs may be in opposition to
ours (Markus & Z.yonc, 1985; Ross &
Fletcher, 1985). Although we assume that
age increases our ability for perspective taking and understanding others' thoughts
and concerns, research on social perception, attributive projection, and false consensus indicate that adults continue to perceive others' beliefs and perceptions as
more similar to their own than they actually
are (Holmes, 1968; Ross & Fletcher, 1985;
Ross, Greene, & House, 1977). Consequendy, when others hold views that are different from our own, attributive projection
leads us to view people who hold them as
wrong and outside our moral community.
7. just wflT'ld thinking. Our need to perceive the world as fair and to believe that peo-

Social Injustice

pie get what they deserve results in just world
thinking (Lerner, 1970, 1980). In just world
thinking, either evidence that victims are suffering is denied or their fate is perceived as
just (Lerner & Simmons, 1966; Rubin & Peplau, 1975; Ryan, 1971). The view that the
world is just because those who suffer deserve
their suffering assuages our guilt (Austin &
Hatfield, 1980; UtIle & Kidd, 1980; Walster &
Walster, 1975). Just world thinking masks
structural inequality by reducing distress resulting from perceived social injustice. Bystanders to structural and direct violence are
more psychologically comfortable when they
perceive that exploiters deserve their good
outcomes and victims deserve their suffering.
During World War II, surveys conducted in
the United States indicated a rise in antiSemitism, rather than increased sympathy or
concern for victims of the Holocaust (Selznick & Steinberg, 1969). Bystanders were
able to maintain their beliefin a just world by
seeing victims as blameworthy people who
deserved their fate.
Each of these tendencies toward perceptual distortion has adaptive, innocuous,
and self-protective aspects, but each also fosters moral exclusion, structural and direct
violence, and, ultimately, social injustice.

Dimensions of Moral Exclusion
Like violence, moral exclusion takes a variety of forms. The forms of moral exclusion
can be described on three dimensions: I)
intensity, from subtle to blatant; 2) degree of
engagement, from active to passive; and 3) extent, from narrow to wide in scope.

Intensity. The intensity of moral exclusion ranges from subtle to blatant. At the
mildest end of the intensity dimension, we
have rude or degrading behavior, then mild
irUury, severe injury, torture, irreversible injuries, mutilation, and murder. More subtle

105

forms of moral exclusion relegate some
people to social roles that undermine
human dignity and allocate resources so
that they receive less. Subtle forms of exclusion include such forms of structural violence as inadequate health care, sanitation,
enforcement of housing codes, and police
protection; substandard civic services can
cause il1iury and death, even when direct violence is not intended. Blatant forms of
moral exclusion include intentionally injurious, destructive behavior such as inflicting
disfigurement, pain, injury, and death on
people and destroying homes, communities, crops, and businesses.

Engagement. Participation in moral
exclusion ranges from unawareness to ignoring, allowing, facilitating, executing, and
devising. At the more passive end of the engagement dimension, crimes of ignoring
and allowing occur when people have the
social, intellectual, or financial resources to
hinder moral exclusion, or aid those who
are harmed, but remain aloof, uninterested,
or uninformed. At the more active end of
this dimension, are crimes of devising and
executing violent acts. Architects of genocide, despots such as Pol Pot of Cambodia,
are at the extreme end of the engagement
scale, even when they themselves do not
carry out the policies they devise and set
into motion.
Extent. Moral exclusion ranges in extent from narrowly focused, to widespread
and prevalent within a society. Narrowly focused moral exclusion affects small segments
of a society, targeting those viewed as marginal, deviant, or nonentities, such as people
having minority religious views or minority
sexual orientations. Widespread moral exclusion affects most of a society; for example,
during dictatorships or inquisitions, human
rights violations and persecutions become
the norm (d., Moore, 1987).

....
o

m

Table 14.1

Dimensions of moral exclusion
Subtle manifestations

Passive
engagement

Active
engagelllent

Perceptions
of those
excluded

Blatant manifestations

Narrow in extent

Wide in extent

Narrow in extent

2

3

4

Ignoring or allowing rudeness, intimidation, and derogation, such as bullying and
sexual harassment

Ignoring or allowing domination and structural violence,
such as slavery, racism, sweatshops, poverty, domestic
violence

Ignoring or allowing persecution and violence directed at
particular subcultures, such
as hate crimes, witch hunts

Ignoring or allowing direct violence and rampant violations of human rights, such as
ethnic cleansing, mass murder, inquisitions

5

6

7

8

Partici pating in, facili tating,
executing, or devising such
forms of rudeness, intimidation, and derogation as bullying, sexual harassment

Participating in, facilitating,
or devising domination and
structural violence, such as
slavery, racism, sweatshops,
poverty, domestic violence

Participating in, facilitating,
executing, or devising persecution and violence directed
at particular subcultures,
such as hate crimes, witch
hunts

Participating in, facilitating, executing, or devising such forms
of direct violence and rampant
violations of human rights,
such as as ethnic cleansing,
mass murder, inquisitions

Invisible, nonen tities

Expendable, less than human

Reprehensible, vermin, a contaminating danger, a plague

Wide in extent

Social Injustice

Table 14.1 describes eight forms of
moral exclusion that emerge from interactions among these dimensions. While each
form is quite distinct, on a deeper level, all
forms have much in common. Whether
moral exclusion is blatant or subtle, active
or passive, and wide or narrow, it is characterized by a psychological orientation that:
• views those excluded as psychologically
distant.
• lacks constructive moral obligations or
responsibility toward those excluded.
• views those excluded as nonentities, expendable, and undeserving of fairness,
community resources, or sacrifices that
would foster their well-being.
• approves of procedures and outcomes
for those excluded that would be unacceptable for those inside the scope of
justice.
like direct and structural violence, multiple forms of moral exclusion simultaneously
exist within a society and, like direct and structural violence, one form of moral exclusion
can give rise to others. For example, moral exclusion which is characterized by passive engagement, subtle manifestation, and wide extent (Cell 2) creates a social climate that
nurtures more virulent forms of exclusion,
such as homophobic hate crimes and lynching (Cell 7) or "ethnic cleansing" (CellS).

DETECTING SOCIAL INJUSTICE
Moral exclusion fosters structural and direct
violence. Even when moral exclusion and
structural violence are widespread and severe, they can be invisible when they are
institutionalized. Before they can be addressed and deterred, they require detection. Detection, however, can be difficult
for several reasons:

107

1. Social injustice does not surface as a moral
issue. Harm and suffering that others experience is less obvious and painful than harm we
ourselves experience. How we understand
others' situations determines what we believe
can or should be done. Different kinds of
obligations ensue from construing others' experiences as morally relevant or not
(Berkowitz, Guerra, & Nucci, 1991). Structural violence such as dangerous, brutal, degrading, and ill-paid work can be perceived as
a matter of personal discretion (e.g., "It's her
choice to work here") or social convention
(e.g., "This is how these factories operate or
they will close and people will be out ofwork")
rather than a moral issue (e.g., "Poverty-level
wages and insufficient safety mechanisms are
exploitative and should be illegal").
2. Social injustice is hard to see up close. It is
easier to detect iryustice and moral exclusion
in the past or in distant cultures than it is in
our own. Self-deception occurs when people
encounter evidence that contradicts their
worldview. Psychologically, it is easier to
question the credibility of evidence, dismiss
its relevance, or distort it to fit one's views
(Bandura, 1991). To avoid discovering evidence that disconfirms important beliefs,
people keep themselves intentionally uninformed, failing to ask questions that would
reveal unwanted information (Fingarette,
1969; Haight, 1980), "leav[ing] the foreseeable unforeseen and the knowable unknown" (Bandura, 1991,p. 95). For example,
information on the widespread use of child
labor in the production of rugs, clothing,
and footwear was available many years before
public opinion was mobilized to combat it.

3. Indecision and inaction abets social injustice. Eldridge Cleaver's aphorism from the
1960s, "you are either part of the problem or
part of the solution," emphasizes non-neutrality of inaction. In malevolent social contexts, failing to perceive violence or act
against iryustice has important individual

108
and collective social consequences. Failing to
perceive or oppose moral exclusion in contexts of widespread, severe, active violence,
such as slavery or political repression, may be
expedient and self-serving, but is a non-neutral decision with political implications for
victims, perpetrators, and bystanders. Since
moral exclusion narrowly directed at one
group is more likely to spill over and spread
than it is to abate, large portions of a society
can become collaborators in persecution, as
happened during the Spanish Inquisition,
the witch trials in Europe, and McCarthyism
in the United States (Moore, 1987).

4. Combating social injustice consumes resources. Constricting the scope ofjustice can
lead to harmful outcomes. Enlarging the
scope ofjustice, however, is not always possible or desirable. Although we like to think of
ourselves as fair, moral, and upstanding, our
capacity for justice is finite. Considering, attempting, and achieving fairness incurs real
costs in time, energy, and resources. These
costs increase during conflict, as resource
availability diminishes and claims on scarce
resources expand (Lerner, 1981; Leventhal,
1979; Staub, 1989). Under adverse conditions, excluding others from one's scope of
justice is adaptive and simplifies difficult
choices. Thus, moral exclusion is not a simple
problem, but raises profound, complex questions about justice (Crosby & Lubin, 1990).

FOSTERING SOCIAL JUSTICE
Structural violence and moral exclusion
can be narrow in scope, relatively subtle in
outcome, and result from passive complicity. They can be perceived as acceptable,
normal, and the way things are done. Structural violence may offer some members of
society protection against competing claims
on our scarce social or physical resources.
Yet structural violence is not inevitable.
While our society is characterized by many

Structural Violence

forms of direct and structural violence, inclusionary thinking also flourishes. As previously unrecognized injustices gain attention, now more than ever we support the
civil and human rights of such disadvantaged people as children, the aged, and
people with HIV, and increasingly, the effects of destructive environmental behavior
on the natural world (Opotow & Clayton,
1994). Fostering inclusionary thinking can
be accomplished by:

1. Welcoming open dialogue and critique.
Change and resource scarcity are a fact of sociallife, but they increase the sense of threat
and danger and consequently narrow the
scope of justice (Opotow, 1990). Therefore,
tolerance for and encouragement of discussion and critique is a first step in recognizing
structural violence and identifying its causes
and cures. Supporting open dialogue and
valuing pluralistic perspectives not only can
help us identify unfair and divisive procedures for distributing social resources, but
can also help social groups (e.g., political entities, citizen organizations) develop sufficient flexibility to withstand the stresses of social change and conflict (Coser, 1956).

2. Establishing procedures that keep communication channels open during increased conflict.
Dialogue and critique are especially difficult
and particularly important in those difficult
times characterized by conflict and resource
scarcity. Therefore, establishing communication channels and keeping them open is
important if open dialogue and critique are
to be encouraged. Foresight in establishing
and maintaining these channels before they
are needed is essential if they are to function when conflicts escalate (DeRidder,
Schruijer, & Tripathi, 1992).
3. Valuing pluralism and tolerance. The
need to view situations from perspectives
other than one's own is axiomatic in conflict resolution, but the ability to do so is not

Social Injustice
innate (Opotow, 1992). Understanding others' needs and positions means quieting
one's own views so that they do not interfere with our ability to perceive the perspectives of others. Benefits that result from pluralism and tolerance include an increased
ability to take others' perspectives; an increase in fresh, novel, and creative approaches; personal growth; and constructive
societal change. Perspective taking and tolerance can be learned, and are more likely
to become normative when they are modeled throughout the society by leaders,
teachers, and parents in their relationships
with each other (Opotow & Deutsch, 1999).

4. Being alert to symptoms oj moral exclusion. Although it is more comfortable to see
others as the ones perpetrating structural
and direct violence, we are all skilled at
moral exclusion. Exclusionary thinking is
promoted by prevailing myths that allow us
to take a righteous stance, deny negative
outcomes that accrue to others, deny the validity of their perspective, and deny our own
contributions to the problems of social living. Awareness of the symptoms of moral
exclusion can help individuals, groups, institutions, and nations take actions consistent
with the moral principles they cherish.

CONCLUSIONS: PEACE PSYCHOLOGY
FOR THE lWENTY-FIRST CENTURY
The direct violence of hate crimes, ethnic
tension, and war are the visible effects of unseen, pervasive, and long-lived structural violence, such as poverty, unemployment,
and discrimination. Structural violence is
sustained by social, psychological, economic, and political conditions that privilege some but exclude others. Differential
access to effective schools, health care, safe
and affordable housing, employment, sanitation services, and transportation are social, economic, and political issues, but they

109

are fundamentally moral issues as well.
What is traditional, affordable, and expedient cloaks implicit moral choices that privilege some with access to social and physical
resources while rationalizing others' lack.
Moral exclusion makes structural violence
probable, "logical," and invisible.
Although moral exclusion, direct and
structural violence, and social injustice are
ubiquitous, they are not inevitable. Inclusionary thinking is fostered by valuing one's connections to and interdependence with others,
while seeing the mutually constructive possibilities of those connections as beneficial.
Maintaining relationships depends on being
committed to extending considerations of
fairness, being willing to make sacrifices, and
being willing to allocate and share resources
to preserve those relationships with distant as
well as close people. While we tend to envision peace as an outcome, peace is an inclusionary process. In the long run, cultures of
peace, characterized by human rights, tolerance, democracy, free flow of information,
non-violence, sustainable development,
peace education, and equality of men and
women will depend upon moral inclusion.
Social conflicts can foster injustice, but
they also motivate social change that advances social justice. Constructive conflict
processes can maximize social outcomes, but
they are not intuitive and need to be learned
(Colelman & Deutsch, this volume; Deutsch,
1973; Opotow & Deutsch, 1999). Appreciation of diversity, trust, and respect are difficult
to achieve, taking considerable skill, effort,
maturity, and patience to accomplish. To
achieve these constructive outcomes, communication needs to unflinchingly address
rather than suppress real structural inequalities that take some people's needs into account while disregarding, disrepecting, and
excluding others. By so doing, we can enlarge
the scope ofjustice, foster equality, and promote peace in the twenty-first century.

CHAPTER 9

THE WAR CLOSE TO HOME:
CHILDREN AND VIOLENCE
IN THE UNITED STATES
Kathleen Kostelny and James Garbarino

INTRODUCTION
For an increasing number of American children, growing up in the midst of violence is
a tragic fact of life. Addressing the causes of
violence and helping children who experience such violence is at the core of peace
psychology. This chapter provides an
overview of children's experiences of violence in the communities where they live.
We begin by assessing the scope of violence
that children experience in their day-to-day
lives, and then examine the risk factors that
contribute to the problem of violence at the
family, community, and cultural levels.
Next, we describe the psychosocial and developmental effects of violence as well as issues affecting children in the twenty-first
century. In conclusion, we present six
promising prospects for intervention, prevention and peace building, designed to
break the cycle of violence for children in
the United States.
110

THE SCOPE OF VIOLENCE
IN THE UNITED STATES
The United States is the most violent country in the industrialized world-especially
for children and youth. Community violence has become such a problem that in
1992, the Surgeon General declared violence a public health emergency (Koop &
Lundberg, 1992). Each year, millions of
American children and adolescents are victims of violence in their own communities
(Garbarino, Dubrow, Kostelny, & Pardo,
1992). Many more witness violence directed
at others. Still others are the perpetrators of
violence. Some youth are all three: victims,
witnesses, and perpetrators.
More than 2,500 youth were killed nationwide in 1994-an 82 percent. increase
from 1984 (OjJDP, 1997). In a moderately
violent community in Washington, D.C., 61
percent of first- and second-grade children
and 72 percent of fifth- and sixth-grade chil-

The War Close to Home: Children and Violence in the United States

dren reported witnessing one or more incidents of community violence (Richters &
Martinez, 1993). In high-violence communities in Chicago, 89 percent of third- and
fifth-grade children have heard gunfire
where they live, 38 percent have seen a dead
body outside, and 21 percent have had
someone threaten to shoot them (Kostelny
& Garbarino, 1998). These statistics are
closer to what children living in war zones
experience than they are for children living
"at peace."
For example, during the brutal war in
Lebanon, research conducted from 1990 to
1991 found that 45 percent of Lebanese
children had witnessed violent acts (Macksoud & Aber, 1996). In comparison, our
Chicago study conducted during 1995 to
1996 found that 43 percent of the children
in our sample had witnessed the violent
event of seeing someone shot (Kostelny &
Garbarino, 1998). Furthermore, many
schools are no longer safe havens for children, but rather settings where violence is
rampant. Data from a 1993 survey of thirdto twelfth-grade children in the United
States revealed that 23 percent of the children had been victims of violence in and
around schools (Harris & Associates, 1994).
In 1996, students ages twelve through 18
were victims of more than 250,000 incidents
of violent crime while at school (Kaufman,
Chandler, & Rand, 1998).
In addition to being victims of violence,
children and youth are also increasingly the
perpetrators of violence. According to aJustice Department report, youth aged ten to 17
committed 2,800 homicides in 1995 (an 84
percent increase from 1986) and 205,500 aggravated assaults (an increase of 137 percent) (O]DP, 1998). Gangs, the majority of
whom are youth, commit a large part of the
violence that pervades many urban communities and an increasing number of rural
communities. Miller (1992) estimated that

111

there were approximately 2,000 gangs and
nearly 100,000 gang members in the United
States in 1980. By 1996, the number escalated
to more than 31,000 gangs and approximately 846,000 gang members (O]DP,
1997). In recent studies, adolescent gang
members in various locations committed
from 68 percent to 89 percent of all serious
violent offenses. While the typical age range
for gang members is twelve to 24, and the average age is 17 years, younger members are
becoming more common. In a 1998 survey of
eighth-graders, 9 percent reported they were
currently gang members, and 17 percent said
they had belonged to a gang at some time in
their lives (O]DP, 1998,May).
Not only are gangs becoming more
prevalent, but they are also more violent
than in previous decades. The rise in gangs
and gang violence has been attributed to
the increasing availability of semiautomatic
and high-powered weapons. In Chicago,
gang homicides more than doubled from
1987 to 1990 (Block & Block, 1993; Spergel,
1995). Moreover, because the rate of U.S.
children experiencing clinical levels of adjustment and developmental problems doubled from the 1970s to the 1990s, gangs increasingly include significant numbers of
youth who are psychologically impaired, increasing their dangerousness (Garbarino,
1995).

RISK FACTORS
The risk of developmental harm from exposure to violence increases when other biological, cultural, psychological, and social
risks are present in a child's environment.
While a single risk is not more likely to
cause developmental harm, when risk factors accumulate, the likelihood of damaging consequences increases dramatically
(Rutter, 1987). We briefly discuss four of
these risk factors: family violence, depressed

112
mothers, media violence, and easy accessibili ty to firearms.

Family Violence
A growing number of children experience violence within their family. Research on child
abuse rates in high-crime communities in
Chicago found that these communities had
rates four times higher than the city average
(Garbarino & Kostelny, 1992, 1994). When
children already vulnerable from experiencing community violence are then exposed to
family violence, they show increased risk of
developmental harm. In studies of children
living in violent communities, children who
also experienced violence at home had significantly more behavioral and psychological
problems than children who did not experience family violence (Garbarino & Kostelny,
1996b; Kostelny & Garbarino, 1998).

Depressed Mothers
Parents who live with the chronic stress of
poverty and violence are often depressed
and overwhelmed, and thus may not be able
to care for and nurture their children adequately (Halpern, 1990). Such parents are
often socially isolated because they live in
high-crime communities; they isolate themselves and their children by not leaving
their homes to seek supportive networks for
themselves and their children. In such dire
circumstances, parents easily transmit feelings of powerlessness, futility, and hopelessness to their children.

Media Violence
Television is a powerful influence in the
lives of children. While educational and social programs can have a positive influence
on children, programs which contain violence and aggression can have long-lasting
negative consequences. Nearly all children

Structural Violence
are exposed to violence in the mass media,
particularly television. For example, by the
time they reach 18 years of age, U.S. children have witnessed over 200,000 violent
acts on television. Eighty percent of television programs contain violence, with an average of five acts of violence per hour during prime-time viewing, and an average of
25 acts of violence per hour during Saturday morning children's programs (Gerlr
ner, Morgan, & Signorielli, 1994).
Research has found that a steady diet of
violent and aggressive television has negative effects on children's social, emotional,
and moral development (Murray, 1997;
Eron, Gentry, & Schlegel, 1994). These effects include: (1) increased aggressiveness
and antisocial behavior, including developing favorable attitudes and values about the
use of violence to solve problems and an increased appetite for more violence in entertainment and real life; (2) desensitization to
real-life violence, including less sensitivity to
the pain and suffering of others, and more
willingness to tolerate increasing amounts
of violence; and (3) belief that the world is
as mean and dangerous in real life as it is on
television (Murray, 1997).

Accessibility to Firearms
The easy availability of firearms in the United
States is a major factor in the deaths and serious injuries to children and youth. Every two
hours a child is killed by a gun, and five others are seriously injured. More children were
killed by guns in the last decade than there
were U.S. soldiers killed during the Vietnam
War. Unless gun violence is curbed, the U.S.
Department of Health and Human Services
projects that within the next 15 years, gun fatalities will become the leading cause of
death in the United States. In a study conducted by the YWCA, 54 percent of young
people reported they had access to a firearm

The War Close to Home: Children and Violence in the United States

(Harris & Associates, 1994). Moreover, every
day, nearly 270,000 students carry guns to
school. Research has found that the increase
in homicides by juveniles in the late 1980s
was related to crimes committed with handguns (Butterfield, 1998). Many children and
youth, particularly boys, are fascinated with
and drawn to guns because of the power and
status they convey (Garbarino, Dubrow,
Kostelny, & Pardo, 1992). While some youth
are drawn to the power of guns, many believe
they must carry guns for protection.

MEDIATING EFFECTS OF VIOLENCE
A number of factors mediate, or influence,
how children and youth will respond to the
violence they experience in their communities. These factors include a child's individual characteristics, the social con text established by a child's family, community, and
larger society, as well as the particular characteristics of the violence (Garbarino & NYsociates, 1992). Individual factors include a
child's developmental level, temperament,
and the quality of attachment to the parent
or caretaker. Family factors include the level
of support and the quality of interactions
among family members. Community factors
include the ties within the neighborhood,
employment opportunities, and other resources or support systems. Societal factors
include laws, institutions, and values, especially society's attitudes toward violence and
punishment. These factors can either serve
as risks-increasing the likelihood of negative developmental outcomes from violence,
or protective factors-buffering the stress
and trauma of violence for children. Finally,
the characteristics of the violence-for example, the amount and type of violence, the
child's relationship to the perpetrator and
victim, and proximity to the incident-also
affect the child's response to that violence
(Marans & Adelman, 1997).

113

Individual Characteristics:
Developmental Level
Where a child is developmentally influences
how that child will respond to stressful and
traumatic incidents of violence. A child's
development ranges across many domains-linguistic, cognitive, affective, and
physical. Development is also the process by
which children form a picture, or draw a
map of the world in their mind, and their
place in it. These representations, or social
maps of the world, reflect the cognitive
competence of the child. But they also indicate a child's moral and affective inclination-characteristic ways of feeling about
the world. Does the child trust others? Does
the child expect the protection of adults?
Does the child see a safe and secure place in
the world? The child's social map is primarily the result of experience, but increasingly
it becomes the cause of behavior.

Family Support
While the primary caretaker is an important
factor in buffering stress and trauma for
children, other family members can also
protect a child from developmental harm.
In her study of children at risk, Werner
(1990) found that secure attachments in infants were related to the presence of a supportive family member, but not exclusively
the primary caretaker. The extended family
can lessen stress, encourage coping behavior, and facilitate the child's working
through violent experiences by providing
additional adult nurturing and positive
models of identification.

Community Support
Belonging to a community where one is valued and esteemed, cared for and loved, acts
as a potent protective factor in the lives of children. Such social support comes from friends,

114

Structural Violence

neighbors, and teachers, who encourage
self-esteem and promote competence. Children need coherent experiences and the help
of concerned, competent adults to meet new
demands, to cope with new stresses, and to
achieve higher levels of functioning. Although violent events can disrupt significant
social relationships, some social networks are
able to maintain children's belief that they are
secure and cared for. This belief affects the degree of stress children experience, as well as
their subsequent psychological adjustment.

Cultural Factors
Violence has so permeated life in the
United States that to a large degree certain
types and amounts of violence have come to
be accepted and expected as solutions to
problems. The message is reinforced in
much of our entertainment-television,
movies, and video games portray heroes
who excel at violence. Often, these violent
acts are glorified, and powerful messagesthat violence is an acceptable and admirable way of resolving conflict-are sent
to children. Furthermore, a relationship exists between children's belief in the legitimacy of aggression and their own aggressive
behavior. Children who believe that aggression is justifiable are three times as aggressive as children who do not approve of such
aggression (Erdley & Asher, 1994; Tolan &
Guerra, 1994).

Acute

VS.

Chronic Violence

Acute violence and chronic violence impact
children in different ways. While a child's
response to a single episode of violence
often includes a normal shock reaction,
which is marked by severe anxiety, it usually
lasts only a short time (Garmezy & Rutter,
1983). Moreover, children are usually able
to assimilate a single, isolated violent event
into their existing world view and see the

event as an accident (Garbarino, Kostelny,
& Dubrow, 1991a). Unlike acute violence,
which is short-lived and where children can
go back to their usual routines after the
stressful event, chronic violence requires developmental adjustment, including major
personality changes, changes in patterns of
behavior, and the adoption of an ideological framework for making sense of the ongoing violence (Garbarino, Kostelny, &
Dubrow, 1991b).
Furthermore, the effects of violence are
cumulative; the more children experience violent events, the more vulnerable they are to
developmental harm and traumatization
(Pynoos & Nader, 1988). In our study of children in high-violence communities in
Chicago, children who experienced four or
more types of community violence displayed
more than twice the aggressive behavior as
children who experienced only one type of
violence in the community (Kostelny & Garbarino, 1998). Moreover, children having
personal experiences with violence at a low
or moderate level, or living in communities
with moderate violence, responded better to
a violence-prevention program than did children who experienced high amounts of violence or lived in communities with high levels of violence. This finding suggests a
threshold effect in terms of the amount of violence a child can experience, and still be
able to change aggressive attitudes and behavior. Once that threshold is passed, it may
be extremely difficult to change children's
thinking and behavior.

THE IMPACT OF VIOLENCE
Experiencing chronic violence can shape
children's development in multiple negative ways, including mental health disturbances years after the violence occurred
(Kinzie, Sack, Angell, Manson, & Rath,
1986). Many children cope with violence by

The War Close to Home: Children and Violence in the United States

adopting behavior that is adaptive in a violent setting but is dysfunctional in "nonna/"
settings in which they participate (Garbarino & Kostelny, 1993, 1996a). For example, adapting to chronic violence by becoming hypervigilant and hyperaggressive may
be a useful strategy on the streets, but is
detrimental to being successful in school
(Garbarino, Dubrow, Kostelny, & Pardo,
1992).
Preschool children frequently regress to
earlier developmental levels in response to
violence-bedwetting, anxious attachment
to their caretaker, and a decrease in talking
can result. Other symptoms include phobic
reactions, difficulties with sleeping, social
withdrawal, aggressive play, and a severely
limited capacity for exploration and thinking (Garbarino & Kostelny, 1997a, 1997b).
School-age children often develop symptoms including somatic complaints, cognitive distortions, trouble concentrating,
learning difficulties, inhibitions, increased
aggression, disruptions in peer relationships, and erratic behaviors in response to
violence. On the other hand, adolescents
often display acting out and self-<iestructive
behavior such as increased risk-taking,
delinquent and criminal behavior, lifethreatening reenactments of violent episodes, aggressive actions, and involvement
in gangs (Eth & Pynoos, 1985). For some
of these children, the psychological consequences are particularly devastating, including fear, desensitization, hopelessness,
impaired moral development, and the perpetration of violence.

115

the formation of a stable base from which a
child can venture forth in exploration of
the surrounding world. Danger replaces
safety as the organizing principle, and the
child comes to believe that there is no order
and continuity in life. As a result of adults
who hurt or fail to shield them from violence, young children may not trust any
adults to help and protect them. Such children may tum inward in an attempt to
draw on their own internal resources. Or,
they may tum outward in fear, hatred, or
in an effort at self-protection (Garbarino,
Kostelny, & Dubrow, 1991b). For example,
children who do not feel safe may adopt aggressive and violent behavior towards others
in an attempt to protect themselves from
harm by taking the offensive.

Psychic Numbing
When violent stressors continually occur,
denial and numbing can result. When extreme situations become unpredictable,
these "battle weary" children attempt to
block out stressful or traumatic events by ignoring reality (Terr, 1990). While such a response may be socially adaptive in the short
run, it becomes a danger to the next generation, when the child becomes a parent.
This phenomenon has been observed in
studies of some families of Holocaust survivors (Danieli, 1985). The emotional
numbing that initially helped them to cope
with the horrors of the concentration camps
on a day-to-day basis put them at risk for
emotionally neglecting their own children
in the long run.

Fear and Loss of Safety

Futurelessness

Experiences of violence destroy a child's
perception of home, school, and community as traditional bastions of safety. Violence threatens a child's sense of secure attachment to caretakers, thus jeopardizing

Some children develop a sense of futurelessness, or a profound fatalism about their
lives. They come to expect more violence directed at them and death at an early age
(Bell, 1991; Osofsky et al., 1993). When

118

asked where they see themselves in ten
years, such children often reply "Dead" or "I
don't think I'll make it that long." In a survey of twelfth graders in U.S. cities, 35 percent did not expect to live to old age. For
minority adolescents, the percentage rises
to 50 percent (Garbarino, 1995).

Aggressive Attitudes and Behavior
Exposure to violence increases the acceptance of violence and the likelihood of a
child engaging in future violence and other
antisocial acts. One way to feel safer is to
align oneself with those who are frightening; some children come to identify with the
aggressor. These children often join gangs
and model themselves and their behavior
on those powerful, aggressive individuals
and groups in their environment who
caused the danger in the first place. Aggressive behavior during childhood is likely to
lead to aggressive violent behavior as an
adult. Eron and colleagues (1994) found
that aggressive behavior at age eight predicts aggressive behavior at age 30 unless
there is intervention.

ISSUES AFFECTING U.S. CHILDREN
IN THE lWENTY-FIRST CENTURY
While recent trends indicate that violent
crime is decreasing, violence by and to U.S.
youth is increasing. In 1995, 25 percent of
all known juvenile homicides were located
in five cities: Chicago, New York, Los Angeles, Detroit, and Houston, although only 10
percent of the nation's population live in
these areas. These cities contain large numbers of vulnerable youth who live in families
with multiple risk factors. The combination
of poverty, drugs, racism, deteriorated physical and social resources, and concentrations of vulnerable families with multiple
problems have created hotspots of lethal violence-"inner-city war zones." This syn-

Structural Violence

drome became particularly evident in the
1970s and achieved epidemic proportions
by the mid-1980s, spreading to urban and
rural areas throughout the United States
(Garbarino, 1999).
While these vulnerable populations
don't cause the epidemics, their impoverished position makes them good hosts for
"infection." Such was the case with the
Black Plague of the Middle Ages which
started in the homes and neighborhoods of
the lowest levels of society, where sanitation
conditions and nutrition were most primitive, but eventually reached into the palaces
of the nobility. Unmarried teenage pregnancy over the past 30 years has shown the
same pattern: The high rates observed
among inner-city minority girls in the 1960s
were found throughout the U.S. in the
1990s among girls who lived in small-town,
suburban, and rural areas.
The same epidemic model can describe
lethal youth violence in schools. Homicides
committed by youth in schools first peaked
in 1992 to 1993, the first stage of an epidemic, when 50 people died, mostly in
urban schools and involving low-income,
minority youth. In 1997, a second stage of
the epidemic began in rural and suburban
areas. According to data compiled by the
federal government, the rate of juvenile
murders in suburbs and in small towns and
rural areas increased 25 percent in 1997.

INTERVENTION, PREVENTION, AND
PEACEBUILDING: SIX PROPOSALS
Despite these grim statistics, there are
sources of health and resilience that offer
hope for children and youth in the twentyfirst century. Identifying and then acting on
these sources of health and resilience are essential to peace building. We present six approaches that can counteract youth violence, approaches that begin in infancy and
continue throughout adolescence.

The War Close to Home: Children and Violence in the United States

Home Visits
The first approach is insuring healthy babies and positive parent-infant relationships
beginning in the earliest days, ~o~ths, and
years of life-in pregnancy, chlldbirth,. an~
infancy. This approach reduces the likehhood of children coming into the world at a
biological disadvantage and prevents them
from being maltreated by their parents.
Chief among such approaches is home
health visits that begin prenatally and continue through the first years oflife.
Home visiting programs involve a caring person who represents the c~m~unity
in the life of a child before the chlld 15 even
born. When done best, these programs
make contact with families soon after conception and enter into a long-term, sup?~rt­
ive relationship with them. The home Vlsitor
comes to the family's residence on a regular
basis throughout the first two years of the
child's life, providing information and a caring that all prospective parents need, but
which prospective parents with risk factors
accumulated in their lives particularly need.
The home visitor establishes a relationship
to address needs of both the mother and
the unborn child. Positive and durable results of home health visiting have extended
from birth into adulthood. For example, babies are born with fewer health problems;
they experience dramatically less child maltreatment (infants who did not have home
visiting experienced four times the amount
of child abuse in the first two years of life);
and as adolescents they are significandy less
involved in the criminal justice system (Olds
et al., 1997).

Care-giving Relationships
A second approach lies in programs that
promote a healthy child-caretaker rela~on­
ship. A crucial goal for such programs 15 to
ensure that difficult children will be ac-

117

cepted rather than rejected by their ~are.nts
(and later by their teachers). Such reJectton
is the primary route through which many
children develop conduct disorders and
gravitate to anti-social peers. One of the
foundations for resilience is at least one
strong, secure attachment; having none
puts a child at risk. Young children ~ho ~­
dence impaired attachment relattonships
with their caregivers need help repairing relationships. Children are better able to endure the emotional stress and physical disruption of chronic violence if they remain
with their primary caretaker and are taken
care of in a stable, routine manner (Garbarino, Kostelny, & Barry, 1998). Parents
who are "models of resilience," available
with reassurance and encouragement during adversity, helping their children understand and process stress and trauma, are
more likely to have resilient children (Anthony & Cohler, 1987).

Early Childhood Education
A third approach is high-quality early childhood education programs-preschools,
Head Start centers, nursery schools, and
day-care centers that promote positive child
development and prevent the likelihood of
early violent behavior. These pro~s
serve as focal points for parent educatton
and support programs that improve the
ability of parents to care for children in nurturing and accepting ways. This intervention is particularly important if the family is
at risk for maltreating and rejecting the
child. Early childhood education programs
can be an informal early warning system for
children who are developing problems with
aggressive behavior. One of ~e most. famous long-term follow-up studies of a highquality early childhood education program
(the Perry Preschool Program) reports that
for every dollar spent on the program, at
least seven were saved years later because

Structural Violence

118

the program's graduates showed less involvement in the criminal justice system
(Garbarino & Associates, 1992).

Elementary School Programs
The fourth approach includes a growing
number of violence prevention programs at
the elementary-school level. These programs are based on the observation that by
age eight, patterns of aggressive attitudes
and behavior become crystallized, and without intervention such patterns continue
into adulthood. Evaluations of violence prevention and reduction programs reviewed
by Tolan and Guerra (1994) indicate that
the most effective strategies are those that
begin in childhood and combine "cognitive
restructuring" (changing ideas about aggression) with "behavioral rehearsal" (practicing alternatives to violence) .
One such program is Let's Talk About
Living in a World with Violence (Garbarino,
1993). This workbook-based program was
developed to stimulate child-adult and
child-child dialogue about the meaning, rationale, effects of, and alternatives to violence in all domains of a child's life. The
program provides help to school-aged children, to change the way they think about violence (Le., that violence is acceptable and
justifiable), to change their aggressive behavior, and to promote pro-social values.
When used by a teacher who received training and support, integrated the program
with other topics, and used concepts in actual conflict situations, students were able to
change aggressive attitudes and behavior
(Kostelny & Garbarino, 1998).

Character Education
The fifth approach is character education.
Modern character education programs involve mobilizing schools and the community to endorse and promote a set of core

values of trustworthiness, respect, responsibility, fairness, caring, and citizenship. The
key to such efforts is that the programs provide concrete opportunities for children to
experience honorable behavior, integrity,
and caring in their relationships with adults.
Additionally, these programs promote spiritual development in activities like caring
for dependent beings-infant children, the
infirm elderly, growing plants, and baby
animals.

Conflict Resolution Programs
Finally, conflict resolution programs focus
on middle schools and junior high schools
and teach mediation, conflict resolution,
and peace education activities. One of the
largest and longest-running school-based
programs focusing on conflict resolution
and intergroup relations is the Resolving
Conflict Creatively Program developed by
Educators for Social Responsibility (Aber,
Brown, & Henrich, 1999). The program attempts to change the entire culture within
schools to become peaceable and effective
communities of learning. Components of
the program include classroom instruction
that teaches students key skills and concepts
in social and emotional learning, provides
training for teachers, parents, and administrators, and trains students as mediators
who then help their peers resolve conflicts
that arise.

CONCLUSION
Peace for U.S. children will challenge us intellectually, economically, politically, and
spiritually. Our efforts need to be situated
within a larger social context and be aimed
at violence prevention and constructive system change. Peace and healthy development do not occur automatically when community violence ceases. As long as systemic

The War Close to Home: Children and Violence in the United States

inequities exist and other pressures toward
violence operate at the family and cultural
levels, children will suffer from structural violence, and cycles of violence will continue
(Wessells & Kostelny, 1996). Making peace
is much more than simply "getting tough on
crime" or "conflict resolution programs."
Peace requires leadership and vision to assess the role of each and every institution,
each and every child's development, and

119

each and every public policy to understand
its contribution to the larger problem of violence in American life. Peace will require
years of dedicated and informed work by
professionals from varied backgrounds,
working closely with grassroots organizations and political leaders to transform
America into a truly "kinder and gentler"
society, a transformation which must be the
core agenda for the twenty-first century.

CHAPTER 10

CHILDREN AND STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE
Milton Schwebel and Daniel J. Christie

The reduction of direct violence requires
not only inteIVentions aimed at individuals,
but also structural changes aimed at how
societies operate, as Kostelny and Garbarino have outlined in their chapter. In
this chapter, we examine the effects of
structural violence on children. Structural
violence is the unequal distribution of power
and wealth within and between societies,
and it has insidious effects on the health,
intellectual development, education, and
general welfare of millions of children. The
cruelties of structural violence on children
are often subtle, unspoken, unrecognized,
and even normalized, regarded by many people as natural or '1ust the way things are.'
This chapter focuses on how children suffer the cruel effects of structural violence,
and why it has long-lasting consequences
on their intellectual, social, and emotional
development.

THE GLOBAL PICTURE
We can gauge the extent to which children
are victims of stmctural violence by comparing the conditions that would be ideal for
optimal growth and development against
those children actually experience. Albee
(1992) concluded that an ideal environment or prevention program would
120

ensure that every baby born anywhere in the
world would be a healthy, full-term infant
weighing at least eight pounds and welcomed into the world by economically secure parents who wanted the child and had
planned jointly for her or his conception
and birth.... The baby would be breast-fed
by an adequately nourished mother who was
not on drugs [and there would bel good
health care for expectant mother and child
(p.313).

Although other experts might add to
these criteria for an ideal environment, few
would dispute the significance of the features Albee identified. We do not have to
look far to realize that we are a long way
from providing optimal conditions for the
world's children. More than a quarter of the
world's population, about 1.5 billion people, are considered poor (Renner, 1998)
and most of the poor live in so-called "developing countries" in the southern hemisphere. These countries, which are sometimes referred to as Third World countries,
contain more than two-thirds of the world's
population but possess only 16 percent
of global income (Renner, 1998; UNDP,
1997). The gap between the rich and the
poor countries is staggering: the richest
one-fifth of the world's population has 82.7
percent of the global income while the

Children and Structural Violence

poorest one-fifth has only 1.4 percent
(UNDP, 1992). Small wonder that there are
tensions between the global South and the
global North.
Throughout the world, children suffer
from structural violence. About twelve million children under five years old die each
year in developing countries, most often
from preventable causes. The deaths of over
six million children, or 55 percent, are
caused by malnutrition, not because there is
a shortage of food in the world but because
food is unequally distributed. Gandhi's
terse comment is relevant here: "There is
enough in the world for man's [sic] need
but not for his greed" (as quoted by Ostergaard, 1990, p. 206). Other preventable
causes of malnutrition include poor health
services, unsafe water, inadequate sanitation, hannful child-rearing practices, and a
lack of maternal support More than 2.2
million children under the age of five die
each year from infectious diseases, including childhood diarrhea. We know these diseases are primarily caused by unsafe drinking water and inadequate sanitation and are
thus preventable (UNICEF, 1998).
Besides the twelve million children who
die from preventable diseases each year,
even more disturbing is the fact that each
year 160 million children survive the dire
conditions of crushing poverty, but end up
chronically malnourished and suffer from
severe developmental disabilities both physically and mentally. Given the poor health
status of so many children, it is not surprising that over 100 million children of school
age fail to attend school (UNDP, 1997), and
most of them are girls (Kagitcibasi, 1998).
These children pay a great price because
education is the most certain way to increase human potential, as measured by intelligence tests, and to raise human capital,
measured by lifetime earnings. In countries
where studies have been conducted, the

121

more schooling children receive, the higher
theirlQand earnings (Brody, 1997).
While it has long been recognized that
the education of men is important, it is becoming increasingly clear that when women
are deprived of education, everyone pays an
enormous price. Recent research has linked
well-being of children to well-being of
women (Buvinic & Yodelman, 1989; UNDP,
1997). In comparison to men, women have
a more profound and direct impact on children's survival, health, and quality of life
(El-Mouelhy, 1992). Despite the important
link between women and children, there is
no society in the world where women enjoy
the same opportunities as men, whether
measured by enrollment in school, literacy,
preparation for careers, political participation, earned income, or any other measure
that reflects quality of life (see Mazurana &
McKay, this volume; UNDP, 1995). Worldwide, women receive only 54 percent of the
years of schooling as men, even though
more education for women translates into
multiple benefits to societies, such as lower
rates of fertility and child mortality (UNDP,
1996). Women with more education tend to
marry later in life, begin childbearing later
in life, and have fewer children (Belsey &
Royston, 1987). Literacy also matters because, like education, higher levels of maternal literacy are associated with lower infant mortality and fertility rates; maternal
literacy levels are also associated with better
family nutrition and lower overall population growth (Bunch & Carillo, 1998).
Clearly, the well-being of women, particularly their educational attainment, serves
the interests of chiidren and society as a
whole. More broadly, all countries ought to
invest generously in education, especially
because those societies that invest the most
in education also demonstrate the most
rapid growth in economic development
(McGranahan, 1995).

122

STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE
IN DEVELOPED NATIONS
The structural violence of poverty is not limited to developing countries. There is a
Third World inside many First World countries. Countries with high average incomes
do not necessarily provide a high quality of
life for all of their citizens. In industrial and
information-based societies, more than five
million people are homeless, more than 37
million people are unemployed, and more
than a third of the adult population fail
to complete secondary education (UNDP,

1997).
In the United States, the gap between
the rich and poor is larger than in 17 other
industrialized countries. Children living in
wealthy U.S. families are among the most affluent children in the world, but children
living in poor U.S. families are among the
poorest of all the industrialized countries
(Gottschalk & Smeeding, 2000).

The Psychosocial Costs
of Structural Violence
Povmy has huge negative impacts, but especially on those who are most vulnerable:
women and children. Compared to families
that are not in poverty, families in poverty
have higher levels of infant mortality, child
abuse, children in out-of-home placements,
school truancy, and child homelessness
(Brown, 1983; Edelman, 1983). Poverty puts
both the expectant mother and the developing fetus at risk in a variety of ways. Mothers
in poverty are less likely to receive medical
care during pregnancy, are more likely to
have complications during delivery, and are
more likely to have a premature newborn or
a full-term baby who has a lower than normal birth weight. Both premature birth and
pregnancy complications affect children because these problems are associated with de-

Structural Violence

velopmental disabilities, which include a
host of physical, emotional, and learning
problems. Low birth weight is a particularly
important consideration because it puts the
infant at risk for a wide range of disabilities
including cerebral palsy, seizure disorders,
visual-motor coordination problems, learning disabilities, and mental retardation
(Bradleyetal., 1994; Crooks, 1995).
Like poverty, the problem of unemployment is also rooted in the economic structures and policies of a society. Unemployment directly affects parents' well-being,
which, in tum, affects children's well-being.
At the time of this writing, unemployment
in the United States was low in comparison
to typical levels, affecting fewer than 5 percent of the labor force but still a large number of people, in total about six million.
The effects of unemployment on families
are enormous. Brenner (1976) found that
in the United States, an increase of only one
percentage point in unemployment was associated with increases of 5.7 percent in
homicides, 4.1 percent in suicides, 4.3 percent in mental hospital admissions for men,
2.3 percent for women, and nearly 2 percent in deaths from stress-related disorders.
Communities affected by m;yor lay-offs
show significant increases in marital conflict, parent-child conflict, and child abuse,
because unemployment affects the whole
family. Marital satisfaction also tends to be
low when employment is unstable (Cherlin,

1979).
Underemployment is a related problem.
People who are underemployed tend to feel
like victims of fate (Burris, 1983). As
Schwebel (1997) has noted: "The rapid increase (over 200% between 1992-1994) in
the U.S. in the use of temporary workers is
likely to exacerbate feelings of insecurity,
undermine self-esteem, and increase stress
in spousal and parental relationships" (pp.

339-340).

Children and Structural Violence
The Impact of Structural Violence
on Parenting
Some of the impacts of poverty and other
fonns of structural violence affect children
directly, but many of the effects are mediated by the way parents interact with their
children (Toomey & Christie, 1990). Structural violence jeopardizes both mediated
learning and parenting styles.

Mediation in Learning and Development. To appreciate how structural violence impedes intellectual development, we
draw from Vygotsky's (1978) theory ofmediated learning and the work of others who
have extended and applied his thinking, including Feuerstein (1980) and Wertsch
(1998). In Vygotsky's view, maturation is secondary in the development of the mind. He
compared maturation, which is passive, to
what he called the practical activity of children-playing, exploring, eating, observing,
smiling, and much of the time, in all of this
activity, interacting with others. Children, he
pointed out, make enonnous advances in
their abilities when they can understand and
use speech, which gives them greater power
and control over their activities.
To illustrate the point, picture four
scenes, each separated in time. In the first,
we see mother and her two-year-old daughter who, with mother's guidance (or mediation), has just succeeded in completing a
jigsaw puzzle. Mother says, "Good girl." In
the second scene, a few months later, the little girl, playing with her doll, helps the doll
place the jigsaw pieces in their appropriate
places, and then the girl says to the doll,
"Good girl." In the third scene, six months
later, playing alone, after solving a child's
puzzle, she says aloud to herself, "Good girl."
She has learned to cue herself about various
aspects of how to fit puzzle pieces together,
just as her mother had done earlier as a me-

123
diator (e.g., "look for a place for a small
piece" or "this piece looks like a ball"). In
the final scene a year later, after she has successfully read a picture book story, she
thinks to herself, "Good girl."
In this manner, thought is a sequence
of learned verbalizations. The words of the
adult become the child's egocentric speech,
i.e., the words spoken aloud in play or spoken aloud to oneself. Later, those words become the child's inner thoughts. What starts
as an interpersonal process ends as an intrapersonal one. In Vygotsky's tenns: "Every
function in the child's cultural development
appears twice: first, on the social level, and
later, on the individual level; first, between
people or interpsychological, and then inside
the child or in/:rapsychologicaL All the higher
functions originate as actual relations between individuals" (1978, p. 57). Hence, the
child's intellectual development is in part a
result of the skilled mediation of adults.
Vygotsky (1978) further refined his theory of mental development with the concept of the "zone of proximal development." The zone is the difference between
two developmental levels: the actual level at
a given time, which can be established byassessing the child's independent problemsolving ability, and the potential level, which
can be assessed by observing the child's
problem-solving perfonnance when guided
by an adult. To illustrate, if a child who
is looking at a picture and working independently cannot differentiate "up" and
"down,» "left" and "right," but with the mediation of an adult learns them readily, then
these concepts are within the child's zone of
proximal development. We can expect that
with instruction, i.e., the mediation of an
adult, the child could master the concepts.
All through infancy and childhood, the individual has zones of proximal development. Children in poverty are at a disadvantage because of the lack of mediated

124

learning experiences and cultural tools that
support success in school.

Parenting Styles. In addition to underscoring the importance of mediated
learning experiences, research in developmental psychology has identified parenting
styles that are conducive to children's
growth and development. During the early
years of life, the quality of parenting has an
effect on the kind of attachment an infant
will form with the primary caregiver
(Ainsworth, Bleher, Waters, & Wall, 1978;
Bee, 1997). Securely attached infants behave differendy from insecurely attached infants. Securely attached infants prefer the primary caregiver to other adult figures, use
the primary caregiver as a secure base from
which to explore strange or unfamiliar settings, seek regular and frequent contact
with the primary caregiver, and can be
soothed by the caregiver when the infant experiences distress. Insecurely attached infants
demonstrate an array of negative emotional
responses to the caregiver: anger, detachment, ambivalence, apprehension, etc.
Studies that have examined parent-child interactions suggest that secure attachments
are causally linked with a parental characteristic called contingent responsiveness (Isabella, 1993). Parents who are contingendy
responsive towards their children are sensitive to the cues their children use to signal
various needs. Not only are the parents sensitive to the child's needs but they respond
to needs prompdy and appropriately. Very
often a dance ensues in which the baby's
smile elicits a smile from the parent; then,
the child's vocalization invites an oral response from the parent, and so on. The
multiple stressors of poverty make it difficult for parents to behave in a responsive
way to their children's needs (Toomey &
Christie, 1990). Not surprisingly, insecurely

Structural Violence

attached infants are much more likely to be
found in conditions of poverty than in nonpoverty situations (Bee, 1997).
The degree to which parents provide
warmth and guidance has been associated with positive developmental outcomes
(Baumrind, 1972; Maccoby & Marrin,
1983). Warmth consists of parental affection,
empathy, and contingent responsiveness.
Parents who provide guidance set high but
reasonable goals, use rules consistendy, and
monitor their children's behavior. When
parental warmth is combined with high levels of guidance, autharitative parenting (not
authoritarian) takes place. Children raised
in authoritative families tend to have high
levels of self-esteem, self-reliance, achievement, and, at the same time, tend to comply
with parental requests.
Poverty makes it difficult for parents to
provide guidance, warmth, and responsiveness. Parents in poverty lack resources,
struggle to meet their children's needs, and
are left with a narrow range of choices when
they have to make decisions that affect the
well-being of their children. For instance,
poor parents have fewer choices than middle-class parents about day care, housing,
health care services, and education (see
Webster and Perkins in this volume). In addition, parents in poverty environments
often experience multiple stressors and
chaos (McLoyd & Wilson, 1991), as crises
arise unpredictably and repeatedly. Stress
also takes its toll on parents' emotional wellbeing. Poverty and unemployment often
leave parents depressed, emotionally unavailable, and, therefore, unresponsive to
their children's needs (Leana & Ivancevich,
1987). Problems are compounded because
children of parents in poverty are more
likely to have learning difficulties and physical disabilities, which place additional stress
on the parent-child relationship.

Children and Structural Violence

Bee (1997) summarized some of the
contrasting features of parents in poverty
and parents who are not. Parents in poverty
tend to talk to their children less often, give
explanations less often, spend less time
doing intellectually stimulating activities
with their children, are less warm, and more
punitive in their discipline. The consequences of parenting styles that lack warmth
and structure are particularly problematic,
because they often lead to negative outcomes in children, including aggressive behavior, lack of self-reliance, and low levels of
self-esteem and achievement.

The Impact of Structural Violence
on School Achievement
McLoyd (1998) has reviewed a number of
studies that demonstrate the impact of
poverty and socio-economic status (SES) on
children's school performance and related
variables. Children's SES is related to their
performance on IQ tests and other measures
that predict school performance. Once in
school, poor children perform lower than
non-poor children on achievement test
scores, number of years of schooling completed, and high school graduation rates.
Poor children are higher on course failure,
grade retention, placement in special education, and dropout rate. In addition to problems related to school performance, McLoyd
cites studies suggesting that poor children
exhibit more emotional and behavioral
problems than middle-class children.
Once again, parenting styles are important. As reported by Frisby (1998), Kellaghan (1994) identified family processes associated with high achievement in school.
These included "opportunities provided to
children for thinking and imagination in
daily activities ... availability and quality of
help provided by the family on matters re-

125
lated to school work . . . opportunities for
language development and the use of complex levels oflanguage" (p. 68). In addition,
low-SES children tend to lose ground in
their academic skills during the summer.
Entwistle, Alexander, and Olson (1997)
have provided a detailed analysis of the
problem. During the school year, comparable gains in reading and math were demonstrated by low- and high-SES children. However, during the summer, low-SES children
showed a decline in their academic skills
while high-SES children posted gains.
The quality of schools also impacts children's performance. Some schools achieve
good outcomes consistently, year after year,
when compared to other schools, even
when both sets of schools are operating
under similar levels of neighborhood affluence. A variety of measurable variables have
been used as indices of "good outcomes," including attendance rates, standardized test
scores, levels of delinquency, and proportion of college-bound graduates. Bee (1997)
has reviewed the findings of a large number
of studies and concludes that the characteristics of the most effective schools bear a
striking resemblance to the authoritative
parenting style. Among other features,
these schools are characterized by "clear
goals and rules, good control, good communication, and high nurturance" (p.406).

CONFRONTING STRUCTURAL
VIOLENCE: A CALL FOR MULTIDISCIPLINARY APPROACHES
IN THE lWENTY-FIRST CENTURY
Reducing structural violence is no easier
than confronting the structures that propagate direct violence, war, and the nuclear
threat. One place to begin, however, is for
scholars to recognize that the mere existence
of structural inequalities is a form of vio-

126

lence. Galtung's (1996) pioneering work in
the 1960s was a beginning, and more recently
we have seen a reemphasis on structural violence by Galtung (1998) and others (Christie,
1997; Pilisuk, 1998; Schwebel, 1997).
Most psychologists are not trained in
macro-level inteIVentions, but failing to engage with structural problems and focusing
only on the individual unit of analysis and
change places peace psychologists in the
role of helping people maintain the status
quo. To the extent that we help people adjust to the stresses of poverty, unemployment, and inadequate health care and education, we unwittingly contribute to the
inertia of structural violence. Dryfoos
(1997) makes a similar point when suggesting we ought to de-emphasize the individual
attributes of children and adolescents and
move the locus of our attention "toward
the settings that so profoundly influence
[child] outcomes-families, neighborhoods,
schools, health and welfare systems, employment and training, and the justice system"
(p.41).
Accordingly, we recommend five policies for mitigating structural violence. From
a psychological perspective, we are comfortable with these policy recommendations because research indicates that each of these
recommendations would have desirable psychosocial outcomes. However, the policies
should be rigorously evaluated in a multidisciplinary context, giving attention to both
individual and structural variables. In addition, we are aware that the recommendations are based on research conducted in
the United States, so caution should be exercised when generalizing to other contexts.

Guaranteed Employment
We have discussed the detrimental effects of
unemployment on parents and children.
The meaning, value, and importance of

Structural Violence

work has been elucidated by psychologists
and others. Reviewing research on happiness, Myers and Diener (1995) argued that
work provides personal identity and helps
us define who we are. It gives us a "sense of
pride and belonging to a group [that] helps
people construct their social identity. And
work can add focus and purpose-a sense
that one's life matters" (p. 15). Wilson
(1996), refers to the effects of disappearing
work from urban ghettoes this way:
Work is not simply a way to make a living
and support one's family. It also constitutes
a framework for daily behavior, it imposes
discipline ... In the absence of regular employment, life, including family life, becomes less coherent. Persistent unemployment and irregular employment hinder
rational planning in daily life. (p. 30)

In the United States today, unemployment is relatively low, but from a psychological point of view, it is clear that every
increment in unemployment reverberates
through society and has a toll on human
well-being. We are quite aware that there
are many questions associated with a fullemployment strategy. For example, who
should be counted among the unemployed
(Le., only those seeking work; only those
able to work, etc.)? Does income have to be
above the poverty level to be counted as employed? Does merely having an income
based on a 40-hour work week qualify as employment? Should temporary or part-time
workers who want full-time jobs be counted
among the unemployed? Would full employment impact adversely on investments
and job creation? Clearly, many of these
questions go beyond the scope of psychology and require multidisciplinary teams
working at various units of analysis (for a
more detailed analysis, see Schwebel, 1997).
The point we make here is that the harmful
effects of unemployment and underemploy-

127

Children and Structural Violence

ment of parents on children is well documented from a psychological perspective. A
concerted effort on the part of psychologists
to mitigate this form of structural violence is
needed.

A Minimum Wage above Poverty Level
As we noted earlier, unemployment and
poverty leave a family with a narrow range
of choices in matters of vital importance to
the child's well-being. But guaranteed employment is not a panacea if the compensation for work is so minimal that there is no
appreciable effect on one's quality of life. In
many ways, underemployment poses threats
to individuals, many of whom feel as if they
are victims offate (Burris, 1983). The exponential increase in the hiring of temporary
workers in the United States can produce a
variety of harmful psychological effects and
can damage relationships. As Schwebel
(1997) asserts:
For the "temps," as for all the others in disadvantaged positions in the labor market
(or for those who have given up and are no
longer in that market), the consequences
due to insecurity about the future, not only
about a job but also about health insurance
and other supports, can undermine a sense
of efficacy (Bandura, 1997), affect coping
mechanisms (Lazarus & Folkman, 1984),
and induce learned helplessness (Seligman,
1975). (pp.339-340)
When wages do not have a palpable effect on well-being, it makes little rational
sense to work. Indeed, some of our most
vexing problems in the United States are
inextricably woven into the fabric of an economic system that is highly punitive to
those who lack the technical skills required
for a high quality of life in an informationbased society. Underemployment can be
harmful not only to the individual but also
to society. For instance, it is not surprising

that from a global perspective, a symbiotic
relationship has developed between the
supply of illegal drugs by the global South
and the demand for drugs by the global
North. While poor farmers in the global
South cultivate the coca plant to generate
income and feed their families, drug traffickers in the global North find it far more
advantageous to move drugs that can
quickly yield high monetary returns instead
of struggling at minimum-wage jobs that
fail to satisfy basic human needs (Crosby &
Van Soest, 1997).

High-quality Child Care
for All Children
Koste1ny and Garbarino (in this volume)
underscored the importance of high-quality
child care as a means of reducing the impact of violence on children. Here, we emphasize research suggesting that high-quality child care could benefit children's
cognitive development, particularly for children who come from families in poverty
(Scarr & Eisenberg, 1993). Even middleclass children show significant cognitive
gains if experience is sufficiently enriching
(Clarke-Stewart, Gruber, & Fitzgerald, 1994).
Moreover, intensive enrichment during the
preschool years can produce enduring effects on children's school performance. As
McLoyd (1998) notes, such a finding "argues for making Head Start a full-day rather
than a half-day program, five days per week,
year-round" (p. 198).
Certain activities seem particularly
worthwhile for the developing child. For instance, it is especially important that children hear others read stories because, as
reading experts such as Gerald Coles (1998)
have argued, storybook reading contributes
to eventual reading success, expands oral
vocabulary, and strengthens the child's eagerness to read.

128

Prenatal Medical Care
and Parent Training for All
Although the United States is by some measures the wealthiest nation in the world, the
wealth is spread unevenly, which is one reason why the United States has a high infant
mortality rate, ranking twenty-first when
compared to other developed countries
(UNDP, 1997). Infant mortality is one indication of how well people take care of one
another.
Lack of support for prenatal care not
only contributes to high mortality rates but
is associated with a host of developmental
problems, many of which cannot be remediated and eventually become a burden on
health care and public education systems in
the long term. Support for preventive efforts during the fetal period would be
highly cost effective, as Kostelny and Garbarino have argued (earlier in this volume).
But paying up front for long-term solutions
does not neatly coincide with two-, four-,
and six-year political cycles. Moreover, we
do not yet have political consensus that all
children have the "right" to the best start
they can get in life.
Again, social sciences have illuminated
the policies and programs that are likely to
be effective. One widely cited program, for
instance, is the University of Rochester
Nurse-Home Visitation Program (OIds, Henderson, Tatelbaum, & Chamberlin, 1986).
The program provides home visits by nurses
that begin when the mother conceives and
continue until the child is two years old. During the prenatal period, nurses discuss nutrition and health matters with expectant mothers. After birth, greater emphasis is placed on
infant development, how to build support
networks, and the use of community services.
When compared to partial implementations
of the program, the full program showed
higher levels of maternal employment and a

Structural Violence

reduction in the incidence of direct violence
as reflected in the reports of child abuse and
neglect. We concur with Kostelny and Garbarino that the first line of defense in preventing youth violence is a healthy baby
combined with a positive parent-infant relationship.
The importance of effective parenting
from conception through childhood cannot
be overemphasized. Authoritative parenting
styles not only produce desirable developmental outcomes, as we have pointed out,
but can serve a protective function, helping
poor, inner-city children resist peer pressure and other influences that are detrimental to healthy development and school
performance (McLoyd, 1998).

Equity in Public Education
Hawkins (1997) has argued that it is feasible
to provide a "high-quality public education
that guarantees success for all children, regardless of race or socioeconomic status"
(p. 300). Yet enormous inequalities exist in
the quality of schools and instruction in
public education across the United States, a
condition that reinforces and exacerbates
inequalities in school achievement and, in
the long term, inequalities in society as a
whole.
Earlier, we emphasized the importance
of students staying in school. We cited research indicating that years of schooling is
associated with the economic well-being of
individuals. In light of research suggesting
that one of the best predictors of dropout
rates is a low level of academic success
(Cairns & Cairns, 1994), the problem of
school quality becomes paramount. Clearly,
improving the quality of education can have
a significant impact on students' success
(Mortimore, 1995) and, as a result, remove
an important risk factor related to many
problems, including dropping out of school.

Children and Structural Violence

Mortimore (1995) has identified specific
features of schools that promote positive
student outcomes, including high expectations of the student, the use of joint planning and consistent approaches toward students (Le., consistent expectations), an
academic emphasis and a focus on learning,
a high level of student involvement in
schooling and school life, parental involvement in the life of the school, monitoring of
students' progress, the use of rewards for
desirable behavior, and strong positive leadership of the school.

CONCLUSIONS
Enough social science research has accumulated for us to offer some specific, empirically
supported policy recommendations that can
have a wide range of positive effects. What is
needed is the political will, a commitment to
implement policies that we know produce
positive developmental outcomes.
We are only at the beginning stages of a
social science revolution that can mount a
serious challenge to structural violence
against our children. While the task might
seem formidable, we are reminded that a
wide range of large-scale social changes

129
have taken place in the recent past. Just
over a century ago, it seemed unlikely that
dueling would ever be delegitimized as a
means of settling disputes. Nor did it seem
likely that slavery would be abolished; that
women would have the right to vote; or that
compulsory education would become law in
most countries of the world. Remarkable
changes have also occurred recently: Forty
years ago there was no ecology movement
and now large-scale recycling efforts are
commonplace. Within the past ten years, laws
have been enacted that rule out cigarette
smoking in many public areas. In fact, a
number of stunning changes that bear on
human security have occurred very recently:
the fall of the Berlin Wall, which signaled
the end of the Cold War; the establishment
of war tribunals that hold rogue leaders accountable for war crimes; the movement to
ban landmines; the dismantling of apartheid in South Africa. These profound societal changes give us reason to hope that the
problems of structural violence against children will not always be normalized. Even
though poverty, and all forms of structural
violence, are fueled by powerful vested interests, we have seen that major social
change is not only possible, but inevitable.

CHAPTER 11

WOMEN, GIRLS, AND STRUCTURAL
VIOLENCE: A GLOBAL ANALYSIS
Dyan Mazurana and Susan McKay1

Given that the natural birth ratio is 106 males
to 100 females, and that females tend to have
longer life expectancies, it is shocking to
learn that "more than 100 million girls and
women are missing" (Sen,1990, p. 61). Birth
ratios of males and females would predict
that there should be more women living
today, particularly in Asia (Bunch, 1995). But
in some parts of the world, men outmunber
women by 20:1 (United Nations, 1996). To
comprehend this staggering problem, 100
million "missing" women is equivalent to the
total number of war-related deaths of 100 Pol
Pot-initiated famines and massacres in Cambodia (1975 to 1978), 200 of the genocidal
civil wars recentiywitnessed in Rwanda (1994
to 1995), and 2.5 times the deaths of World
War II (1939 to 1945) (Sivard, 1996). But
how many have even noticed, let alone demanded accountability for, this killing of
girls and women? A primary reason for this
disregard is that much of the violence against
women results from structural violence.

In this chapter, we document and analyze socio-cultural, economic, and political
structural violence against women from a
feminist perspective. For our purposes,
structural violence can be divided into two
categories: premature death attributed to
inequitable life opportunities, and a reduced quality of life in which human potential is diminished (Brock-Utne, 1989).
When structural violence happens to girls
or women because of their gender, patriarchal structural violence takes place (BrockUtne, 1989). Patriarchy can be defined as systems or structures of exploitation that
normalize socially constructed gender differences in ways that reproduce and legitimatize male domination (Ebert, 1996). Oppressions are normalized when they are
presented as "the way things are"; then, one
does not need to be curious about them, let
alone try to change. them, because they are
"typical" or "normal." Feminist theory is useful here because it seeks to reveal and de-

lThe authors would like to thank the editors, two anonymous reviewers, and Daniel]. Isaak for thorough reviews of
this manuscript.

130

Women, Girls, and Structural Violence: A Global Analysis

construct human systems and beliefs that
are naturalized, paying specific attention to
constructions and manipulations of gender,
masculinity, and femininity (Enloe, 1993).
Understanding patriarchal structural violence means locating and analyzing the
socio-cultural, economic, and political systems that perpetrate or condone physical,
sexual, and psychological violence against
women (Galtung, 1969).

SOCIO-CULTURAL SYSTEMS
Socio-cultural systems are numerous and diverse. In this chapter, we limit our discussion to patriarchal structural violence in systems and institutions that maintain son
preference, inequalities in the allocation of
food and health care, and educational discrepancies.

Son Preference
The threat of violence begins prior to birth
for many females. Social preference for
male children is strong in many societies
and can result in the premature death or
killing of female infants-termed female infanticide--a form of direct violence resulting
from structural violence. Structures and institutions that play continuing roles in the
strengthening of son preference include
economic systems such as dowry payments
or "bride price" (the payment by the bride's
family to the groom's), or cultural beliefs in
which sons are seen as the providers for parents in their old age. In much of Asia where
the dowry system remains strong, "a family
with three girl children might well face financial ruin" (Mongella, 1994, p. 31). Girls
therefore are considered a burden, while
the birth of a boy is celebrated as good fortune.
Systems and institutions that perpetuate
an early devaluation of, and violence against,

131

girls are strengthened by economic systems
that pay women less for equitable work, fail
to account for nearly haIf of women's
work worldwide, and routinely discriminate
against women in the labor market (Waring, 1988). Cultural and religious systems
and institutions also perpetuate systems of
discrimination against girls through promoting beliefs that privilege males with the
perpetuation of the family name, and by
mandating maIe-only roles in the rites of deceased parents and ancestors as, for example, in Pakistan and India. The combination
of male preference and political policies
can contribute to female infanticide. For example, to curb population growth in China,
the government penalizes families with two
or more children through tax penalties and
state sanctions. In selecting the gender of
their child, many Chinese families strongly
favor boys over girls; of the 100 million missing women in the world, 50 million of them
are from China-a result of both female infanticide and selective abortion (Sen, 1990).
Systems and institutions that maintain
son preference and early violence against
girls often beget others that perpetrate violence. For example, the combination of
male preference, the devaluation of female
lives and labor, and technological advances
such as sex determination tests and access
to safe abortion have been used to detect
the presence of female fetuses. In many
such cases, women either choose or are
forced by husbands or relatives to abort
(Narasimhan, 1993). One study of abortions
in Maharashtra, India, revealed that 7,999
out of 8,000 fetuses aborted were female
(Jaising, 1995). Some clinics offering sex determination tests and abortion promote the
use of these forms of medical technology
for patriarchal structural violence. Billboards advertising these services read "Better to spend Rs500 today [the price of a sex
determination test and abortion] rather

132

than Rs500,000 at the time of the girl's marriage [the dowry price]" (Narasimhan,
1994, p. 51). Patriarchal structural violence
is so normalized in India that advertising
campaigns advocating the death of girls was
supported by a cabinet minister and many
physicians before ultimately being dropped
because of the protests of women's rights
groups (Narasimhan, 1994).

Food and Health Care Distribution
Structural violence against girls and women
is also evident in food and health care distribution. According to the World Health Organization, girls and women often receive
less food and health care services than male
counterparts, particularly in developing
countries (Bunch, 1995; Mongella, 1994;
Newland, 1979; Sullivan, 1995). In India, for
example, "girls are fed less and for shorter
periods and are not given [more expensive]
foods like butter or milk, which are reserved
for boys" Uaising, 1995, p. 51). This practice
incurs a health risk because the fats in foods
like butter and milk are imperative for the
proper development of a child's brain, cognitive abilities, and spinal cord. Along similar lines, 40 percent of women in the developing world suffer from high levels of
anemia, in part because meats and proteinrich foods are reserved for males (Mongella,
1994). This phenomenon occurs not only in
the developing world: In both World Wars I
and II, American and British governments
set up ration plans that reserved meat for
(male) soldiers (Seager, 1993).
Governmental policies and practices by
large multinational corporations can also
contribute to structural violence against
women and their families in the area of
food production and distribution. In the
Philippines, for example, with the government's and the World Bank's blessing,
multinational, mono-crop plantations pro-

Structural Violence

duce enough crops to rank the Philippines
the 14th-largest food exporter in the world.
However, 80 percent of Filipino children go
hungry every day, with 70 percent of the
population living beneath the poverty level
(Largoza-Maza, 1995). Rates of malnutrition and poverty are intensified for the typical Filipino woman, who has an average of
eight children and no access to birth control, family planning, or divorce. Consequently, rural women throughout the world
practice subsistence farming. Although
there is no exchange of money, subsistence
farming does increase the odds that a
woman and her children will eat. But according to the World Bank, the way to improve these women's lives is to increase export growth through structural adjustment
policies. These "unproductive" women and
their children are driven off the land to
make room for the new multinational corporations and expanding mono-crop plantations. The women and their families then
migrate to urban areas where they contribute to growing unemployment and help
fill the pool of cheap labor from which the
multinationals draw (Waring, 1988).
In addition to unjust systems of food and
land distribution, girls receive fewer health
services than boys. Although girls in some locales, such as rural Mexico, suffer from more
disease and illness, boys are taken to the hospital and are given medication and vitamins
at a significantly higher rate than girls
(Brock-Utne, 1989). Other studies on equitable household distribution of health care
provisions show that compared to boys, girls
have a mortality rate that is 12 percent higher
under one year of age, and 8 percent higher
between one and five years old Uaising,
1995). These rates are exacerbated when the
girl comes from groups that experience the
most poverty and discrimination, such as
the indigenous peoples of Guatemala, 50
percent of whose children are dead before

Women, Girls, and Structural Violence: A Global Analysis
the age of five because of malnutrition and
overwork (Schinner,1993).

Education
One of the most effective ways of increasing
girls' access to food and health sernces is by
improving their education. Education has
proven the most effective means to address
the poverty, malnutrition, and poor health
conditions that affect one-fifth of the world's
population (Sivard, 1993, p. 31). Throughout the world, education is a means to a better and longer life. However, girls receive less
education than boys, even though according
to the United Nations Children's Fund
(UNICEF), educating girls "is one of the
most important investments that any developing country can make in its own future"
(1994, p. 20). Girls are not educated because
of beliefs that they will only become wives
and mothers and because scarce familial education resources are reserved for boys (another fonn of son preference); young girls
are kept at home to help raise younger siblings and perfonn other fonns oflabor to assist their mothers (Narasimhan, 1993; Sivard,
1993, 1996; UNICEF, 1994). Consequently,
educational rates are gender biased. Around
the world, of all living school-aged children,
14 million more boys than girls are in primary school (UNICEF, 1994), and of the
nearly billion illiterate adults worldwide, twothirds are women (Sivard,1996).
It is widely recognized that high-quality,
basic, universal education is the foundation
of world health and economic security.
Over time, nearly all other indicators of
progress-including nutrition, infant and
maternal mortality, family planning, child
health, and women's rights-is "profoundly
affected by whether or not a nation educates its girls" (UNICEF, 1994, p. 20). While
not a panacea, education provides women
and girls with at least the knowledge for im-

133

proving nutrition and sanitation in their
homes. Education also enhances women's
status in their relationships at home, which
increases decision-making regarding family
planning, contraceptive choices, and finances. The global results of educating girls
and women are lower fertility, lower population rates, lower infant mortality rates,
healthier children, and a more productive
economy (Mongella, 1994; Sivard, 1996).

ECONOMIC SYSTEMS
Structural patriarchal violence is apparent
in economic and labor systems worldwide.
Women make up more than half of the
world's population, and perform 66 percent
of the world's work, often in jobs more
physically demanding and time-consuming
than jobs held by men. However, women
"earn only 10% of the world's income and
own 1% of the world's property" (Elliott,
1996, p. 17), and they account for "70% of
the world's 1.3 billion absolute poor"
(United Nations Development Fund for
Women [UNIFEM], 1995, p. 1). Why?

Women's (Invisible) Work
One of the primary reasons women are poor
is that the m3,jority of women's work literally
counts for nothing. Feminist economist Marilyn Waring (1988) has demonstrated how
most' governmental accounting systems do
not recognize the majority of women's labor
because the rules of the United Nations System of National Accounts (UNSNA) only
count that which passes through the marketplace, i.e., anything that has currency-generating capacity. All countries wishing to be
members of the United Nations, or borrow
money from the World Bank, or acquire a
loan from the International Monetary Fund
(JMF), must adhere to rules set down in the
UNSNA. Yet these systems' economic policies

134

place no value on peace, the preservation of
natural resources, or unpaid labor, including
that of reproducing and nurturing human
life. Important decisions are made using figures generated from the UNSNA about
whose needs are met, how to allocate taxes,
which programs receive support and which
do not. Some of these decisions literally determine who will live and who will die (Waring, 1988).
While states may not publicly acknowledge women's labor in informal economies,
they nevertheless rely upon it. For example,
the Philippine's 2000 plan, ajoint project of
the Filipino government, the IMF, and the
World Bank, relies on Filipino women staying in their jobs in the garment and electronic industries, sending home foreign currency from their jobs overseas as domestic
and contract workers, and working as prostitutes or exotic dancers. For example, with
the closure of U.S. military bases, the Filipino government is now counting on Filipino prostitutes and exotic dancers to
switch their client base from soldiers to
tourists and international businessmen, in
order to continue the flow of foreign currency (Largoza-Maza, 1995). Thus, we can
see that governments are often reluctant to
challenge patriarchal structures of violence
against women because economic and political systems rely on them.

Military and Social Expenditures
What work do governments value? How do
they spend their treasuries? When governments allocate resources, especially in large
amounts, they provide insights to their priorities. For over half of the world's countries, maintaining a military and buying
weaponry are higher priorities than the
health needs of their citizens; for 25 countries, military expenditures exceed those for
education, and for 15 countries, defense is

Structural Violence

more important than health and education
combined (Sivard, 1993). The privileging of
militaries over people has staggering consequences (Winter, Pilisuk, Houck, & Lee,
this volume). Money spent on armaments in
just two weeks worldwide would provide the
entire world's populace with safe drinking
water.
The U.S. government provides an illuminating example of military spending
at the expense of its citizens' welfare. Although the United States accounts for less
than 5 percent of the world's population, it
spends more than 40 percent of the world's
defense outlays. The United States ranks
first in the world in military expenditures,
military technology, military bases worldwide, military training of foreign forces, military aid to foreign countries, naval ships,
combat aircraft, nuclear reactors, nuclear
warheads and bombs, and arms exports.
Three years after the end of the Cold War,
U.S. arms exports were the highest of any
country, higher in fact than all "the 52
other arms exporting countries combined"
(Sivard, 1996, p. 41). This emphasis on military expenditures comes at a price to the
U.S. citizenship. Despite being one of the
richest countries in the world, the United
States lags behind in social protection, ranking poorly by world comparison in maternal
and infant mortality rates (12th and 13th),
mortality rates under the age of five (1 8th ) ,
and percentage of school-age children in
school (18th). The United States has been
sliding steadily downward in these categories since the 1980s (Sivard, 1993, 1996).
Women in particular pay the price for
war economies. Inflated military budgets
often come as a result of reductions in social services, where worldwide women are
most often employed (Turpin, 1998). For
example, for the price of 20 MiG-29 fighter
planes from Russia, India could have furnished basic education to all 15 million of

Women, Girls, and Structural Violence: A Global Analysis

its girls who are out of school (UNDP,
1994). When women are employed in the
military, it is largely in low paying, assemblyline factory jobs (Enloe, 1993).
Military practices such as maintaining
prostitution for servicemen, dropping chemical weapons on rural areas, and targeting
civilian populations during conflicts, cause
specific harm to women, through disease,
cancers, birth defects, and psychological and
reproductive disorders (Enloe, 1993; Herman, 1992; McKay, 1998;Seage~ 1993). For
example, because of the U.S. military's systematic poisoning of Vietnam during the war
through the dumping of massive amounts of
Agent Orange and Dioxin, Vietnamese
women today have the world's highest rates
of spontaneous abortions. Rates of birth defects have markedly increased and fetal
death rates are now 40 percent higher than
before the war (Seager, 1993). Vietnam is not
an anomaly: Throughout the world women
and their children suffer disproportionately
to men in war. Worldwide, they account for
80 percent of refugee and displaced populations, are often targets of rape and genocide,
as in the wars in the former Yugoslavia and
Rwanda, and suffer from multiple forms of
gender-based violence (McKay, 1998).

POLITICAL SYSTEMS
Political and legal systems in non-democratic countries often maintain and perpetuate
structural, as well as direct, violence. Consequently, many liberation struggles are
fought to enact changes towards democratic
systems. With the collapse of the Eastern
Bloc and the Soviet Union, and struggles
for independence and justice throughout
Africa and Latin America, the world has recently seen an unprecedented number of
emerging democracies. Unfortunately, democratic systems also have ways of perpetu-

135

ating structural violence, wherein women
and minorities are particularly impacted.

Engendering Democracy
Despite the potential of democratic governance, patriarchal structural violence is often
embedded in democracy. In the eighteenth
century, democracy meant not merely a
form of government but a principle of social
equality (Arblaster, 1987). However, even
the most vocal advocates of social equality in
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries
could only conceive of equality among propertied white men. Indeed, "it was their interests that government had been created to
serve," and the idea that men could and
should represent women was widely accepted and promoted (Phillips, 1992, p.
25). Citizenship was created in the male
image. Even today, democracy as a political
ideology too often normalizes the male
image as "citizen" and encourages others to
deny aspects of themselves to conform to
some unitary norm, which itself was never
gender-neutral. For example, many South
Mrican feminists working in the early 1990s
to reconstruct their nation were acutely
aware that "the universal standing in society
which we have been fighting for is that of a
'being with masculine characteristics engaging in masculine activities'" (Bazilli, 1991, p.
11). Clearly, the gendering of democracy
and citizenship must be on the agenda if
women are to truly benefit from democratic
systems of governance.

Women and the Private Sphere
The male bias inherent in (patriarchal)
democracy has led to forms of patriarchal
structural violence that relegate "women's issues" to the "private" realm where they become "private matters" that the state does not
address. This bias is perhaps nowhere clearer
than in the issue of domestic violence, where

136
male bias greatly impairs the ability of police,
judges, and lawmakers from recognizing the
violent behavior in the family. "The view that
'as a family matter' battery is less important,
is based on men's, not women's perceptions"
(Murray & O'Regan, 1991, p. 45). The multiple forms of domestic violence that women
suffer have profound physical and psychological effects (Herman, 1992; Kelly, 1993),
prompting international calls for domestic
violence to be recognized as a form of torture
(Copelon, 1994). Governmental support of
patriarchal structural violence through its
inattention to "private" matters is apparent
throughout the world. Until 1991, the murder of a wife in Brazil was legal-it was considered an honor killing and was done to preserve the family's honor because of a
woman's transgression. In many areas of the
world, men are free to rape their wives with
no threat of legal repercussions (Mertus,
1995).
Other examples of government-sponsored patriarchal structural violence include laws and systems that condone particular forms of violence against women, deny
women control over their bodies, provide
no assistance with child care and maternity
leave, make no attempt to remedy child support defaults, and fail to provide unemployment protection to women who work within
the "private" realm in domestic service or
farm work (Waring, 1988; Murray & O'Regan, 1991). Because governments rarelyaddress patriarchal structural violence or fight
for women's rights, progress for women is
largely made by women working for the
recognition and enforcement of women's
rights. As a result, in countries such as Australia, Brazil, Britain, Columbia, India, Sri
Lanka, and the United States, violence
against women in the home has been identified and some forms of it criminalized
(Fineman & Mykitiuk, 1994).

Structural Violence

Women in Decision-making Bodies
Women must actively participate in creating, executing, and enforcing the laws
(Zama, 1991). Feminists continually acknowledge the necessary steps between theory and practice, urging that action must
follow critiques and recommendations. A
law may concede a right to freedom from violence, decent health care, legal representation, a clean environment, or a living wage,
but if the state refuses to fund or enforce
these polices then the right exists only on
paper (Bazilli, 1991). The question then becomes, to what extent do women have access to, and control over, the state, its policies, laws, and coffers?
Relative to the proportion of the population they comprise, women are consistently underrepresented, if not absent from
positions of political power, allover the
world. For example, only recently has
women's representation at the national
level in the United States climbed to 11 percent, ranking it well below Seychelles (46
percent), Finland (39 percent), Norway
(36 percent), Sweden (34 percent), Cuba
(23 percent), China (21 percent), and others, and about on par with Angola (15 percent), and Italy (13 percent), both of whose
proportions of women in parliament recently fell by 5 percent to reach these numbers. In Australia, Costa Rica, and Greece,
as elsewhere, when women are elected and
given cabinet posts, their appointments
tend to be in the more feminized (and devalued) arenas of family or community concerns, and not in the more the masculinized, powerful, and prestigious departments
of finance, treasury, foreign affairs, and defense (Watson, 1990). Such consistent underrepresentation of women in the upperlevels of government cannot be accidental
(PhiIIips, 1991).

Women, Girls, and Structural Violence: A Global Analysis

Likewise, in the newly democratic nations of East Central Europe, "women's
citizenship rights are deemed to be of secondary importance in the current democratization process" (Einhorn, 1993, p. 149).
Not only are women forced to take a back
seat, but the total number of women in governmental positions is dramatically decreasing because there are no longer party quotas that specify how many women should
hold office. In former socialist parliaments,
where women once occupied up to 30 percent of the seats, they now hold as little as 7
percent in the new democratic parliaments.
As a result, women are almost completely
invisible at the highest levels of government,
and at the parliamentary level little discussion takes place about the protection or enhancement of women's rights (Einhorn,
1993; Renne, 1997).
The exclusion of women from national
decision-making bodies is a form of patriarchy. The men who benefit from their
monopoly on power often meet challenges
to the status quo of governmental power
with strong resistance. For example, the
women's movement in India has been pushing for a bill to set a quota of 30 percent for
women's representation at the national
level. OnJuly 15,1998, it appeared the bill's
supporters had the two-thirds majority
needed to pass, and supportive women
members of parliament (MPs) attempted to
bring it to a vote. Opposing male MPs
caused such disruptions, including grabbing the bill from the speaker's hand and
tearing it up, that the speaker shelved it for
a later vote. Supporters of the bill protested,
and failing, tried to have a date set for the
bill to be reintroduced, but the speaker
would not recognize the women MPs. When
a male MP supporter tried to push the case,
he was beaten by the opposing male MPs,
removed from the floor by security officers,

o

137

and taken away bleeding in an ambulance
(Sullivan, 1998). In this case and others,
supporters of a patriarchal status quo literally fight to keep women out.
Electing women who will strive for
women's empowerment by dismantling patriarchal structures and effectively participate in government is a necessary, though
not sufficient, condition. Male bias in political structures also perpetuates obstacles to
women's political involvement based on access to and control of wealth, sexual divisions of labor in the household, division of
"public" and "private," and a lack of government programs to support working mothers. In the highest levels of government,
such obstacles include, but are not limited
to, working hours, the conditions of assemblies and councils and, particularly in the
United States, the financial burden of running for election (where the average U.S.
Senate seat now costs five million dollars).
Discrimination that limits women from political participation is a form of patriarchal
structural violence against women, and
these barriers should be addressed and removed by the state.
While governmental efforts are critical,
the civil and domestic spheres must change
as well. Because constraints on women's
political activity result from psychosocial,
economic, and political structures, equal
representation in legislature or parliament
without considerable transformation in social relations is impossible (Phillips, 1991).

CONCLUSION
The denial of girls' and women's right to
food, health care, education, and life, as
well as the undermining of their political,
economic, and social rights are some of the
most damaging and egregious forms of direct and structural patriarchal violence.

138

Women and girls deserve to have their
human rights recognized and enforced.
The global community must reject all efforts to justify abuse on the basis of culture.
While global women's movements have had
some effect in confronting violence and reducing inequality, structural violence against
women and girls remains pandemic (Basu,
1997). Peace cannot be achieved until both
indirect and direct forms of violence are dis-

Structural Violence

manded. As we have seen throughout this
chapter, patriarchal systems that discriminate against women and girls contribute to
the eventual expression of direct violence. If
we are serious about achieving peace, then
we must be committed to women's empow. erment. As a result, research and activism
on women's issues are key elements of any
serious peace agenda.

CHAPTER 12

UNDERSTANDING MILITARISM:
MONEY, MASCULINITY, AND THE
SEARCH FOR THE MYSTICAL
Deborah Du Nann Winter, Marc Pilisuk,
Sara Houck, and Matthew Lee

Militarism does not consist of any army, nor even of the existence of a VI!1'j great anny. Militarism is a spirit.
Woodrow Wilson, 1916 (as cited fly Berghahn, 1984, p. 108)

Like Woodrow Wilson, we define militarism
in this chapter as a psychological rather
than a physical process: Militarism is a set of
values that support military activities and
enable countries to mobilize for war. Militarism is as important during peace as it is
during war. In fact, wars cannot be conducted unless militarism is nurtured long
before wars begin. In democracies, somebody must provide a rationale for military
expenditures and possible threats. The
importance of military readiness must be articulated and that rationale must be persuasively communicated to the public. Legislative decision-makers must agree to allocate
funds for tl).e military, rather than to other
forms of social spending.
In this chapter, we argue that the preparation for war is as problematic as war itself.

Because militarism is a global form of structural violence, we begin by analyzing the excessive financial costs and social injustice
caused by militarism. Our central concern is
why people decide to pay these exorbitant
prices. To answer this question, we examine
underlying psychological processes that are
not always obvious. We assert that money,
masculinism, and the search for the mystical
drive militru;stic sentiments beyond logical
ends. Finally, we suggest that psychologically
valid mechanisms to address these motives
are required before structural violence from
excessive militarism can be curbed. Because
militarism calls on some of the deepest and
most cherished of all human capacities, we
believe that salvaging the best of militarism
while redirecting the military's focus is a crucial task for the twenty-first century.

139

140

THE THIN LINE BETWEEN WAR
AND PEACE
In modem societies, support for military
matters is often covert until armed conflict
erupts. When soldiers fight wars, they must
leave their families and join scores of other
displaced persons to march, kill, and die for
the sake of some political objective they
often know little about. Because, as we have
long known, war is not instinctual, people
must be socialized to kill (May, 1943). The
media helps the public understand the
need to fight by objectifying the enemy and
portraying it as evil (Hesse & Mack, 1991),
and often even subhuman (Reiber & Kelly,
1991). Such treatment communicates dire
predictions of what might happen should
the enemy prevail. For example, in the early
stages of the Vietnam War, the public was
continually warned that a communist government in Vietnam would only be the first
of a line of falling dominoes that would
eventually threaten the United States.
Strong feelings of nationalistic identification get aroused, creating an "us vs. them"
dichotomy that is oversimplified and rigid
(Tetlock, 1988). Military leaders on our side
are depicted as heroes, and people questioning the wisdom of military action are
portrayed as unpatriotic.
Yet sudden psychological support of
military actions cannot arise in a vacuum.
Along with a well-rehearsed army, government leaders and the media build militaristic value systems between wars so that
militaries can be instantly activated. In
peacetime, such values are often latent.
Large numbers of citizens passively condone, if not support, their militaries, in
order for them to function effectively when
called upon. In this way, the line between
peace and war becomes blurred. The first
peace psychologist, William James, noted
that "battles are only a public verification of

Structural Violence

the mastery gained during the peace interval ... [The] preparation for war by nations
is the real war, permanent, unceasing"
Games, 1910/1995, p. 19).

STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE
OF MILITARY PREPAREDNESS
Preparation for war is a form of structural
violence, since its social, political, and economic structures cause avoidable injury
or deaths (Christie, 1997; Galtung, 1969).
Structural violence is insidious because it
has no active agent, no conscious intent,
and no clear point of origin (see Chapter
1). But inevitably, national decision-makers
choose between military and social spending. When countries spend precious income
on military matters instead of food, health
care, or environmental protection and restoration, injuries and deaths to civilians
occur. As Eisenhower put it a half century
ago, "the problem in defense spending is to
figure how far you should go without destroying from within what you are trying to
defend from without" (1956, as quoted by
Sivard, 1996).
Half of the world's governments spend
more to guard their citizens against military
attack than to protect them against the enemies of good health, such as contaminated
water, poor nutrition, and lack of medical
care (Sivard, 1993). World military expenditures reached an all-time high of $1.3 trillion in 1987. Despite significant decreases
since the close of the Cold War, however,
global expenditures in 1995 still amounted
to more than $1.4 million per minute. The
United States became the world's military
superpower during World War II, when its
military budget sky-rocketed from under
$13 billion a year to $530 billion (Sivard,
1996). The United States currently eclipses
the rest of the world by a huge margin,
spending over five times that of the second-

Understanding Militarism: Money. Masculinity. and the Search for the Mystical

biggest spender (Russia); more than -the
combined budgets of the 13 countries ranking below it (Sivard, 1996); and over 18
times the combined spending of those
countries often identified as its biggest
threats (North Korea, Iran, Iraq, Libya,
Syria, Sudan, and Cuba).
Even redirecting relatively- small
amounts of military expenditures could significantly impact social well-being (see
Mazaruna and McKay, this volume; Pilisuk,
this volume). For example,just 4 percent of
the world's military budget could raise
global literacy to 50 percent, and redirecting 8 percent of military budgets for family
planning would stabilize global population
by the year 2015. The cost of one nuclearpowered submarine ($2.5 billion) could immunize the world's children for one year.
Clearly, excessive military expenditures constitute great structural violence.

TRADITIONAL EXPlANATIONS
FOR EXCESSIVE MILITARISM
Psychological explanations for militarism
have for several decades focused on fear,
pride, and logic. Let us examine these in
tum.

Fear
White (1984,1986) argued in his classic volume on the psychology of war that "fear is
what fuels arms races [along with] an exaggerated preoccupation with power" (1986,
p. 242). White used Freud's distinction between objective and neurotic anxiety to
argue that most wars are caused by exaggerated, unrealistic fear. Anns races are
Freudian compulsions, which have a "symbolic reassuring function [and] serve to
keep the underlying neurotic anxiety from
reaching the surface of consciousness"
(1986, p_ 245). From White's perspective,

141

militarism is primarily an unconscious
process through which decision-makers try
to reduce their vulnerability by excessive
arms buildup. Militaries soothe national
fears (at least those of the elites), which is
one reason the expression of fear by military personnel is taboo, especially in wartime.

Pride
Closely related to fear is pride, which also
serves as an important motivator of military
activity (Frank, 1986). Ribbons, stripes, and
uniforms symbolize glory and honor. War
originally undertaken out of fear can be easily continued by pride because so often,
"proving one's courage and determination
by continuing to fight becomes an end in itself, more important than gaining the object of the fight" (Frank, 1982, as cited in
Frank, 1986, p. 226). Weapons builders
have often given affectionate names to their
products and displayed them in their glory.
For example, one German manufacturer
termed the artillery of World War I "Big
Bertha," after his wife (Pearson, 1994). Military leaders have marched in parades for
centuries, showing off their grandeur. Even
in peace-time, military leaders can easily become attached to their big budgets and
prestige.
Status needs are clearly at stake in the
nuclear arms race. For example, developing
countries like India and Pakistan yearn to
become part of the "nuclear club" (Wessells, 1995). Their recent nuclear tests and
willingness to pay high costs through economic sanctions demonstrate the powerful
psychological factors of both fear and pride
that commonly operate. Although Pakistan
is one of the ten poorest countries in the
world, its Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif happily announced on May 28, 1998, that "the
big powers have never taken us seriously ...

142
[but] ... today ... we have become a nuclear power." As Pakistanis celebrated in the
streets, one university student commented,
"we are ready to pay any price and make any
sacrifice to live as a self-respecting nation"
(Bums, 1998).

Logic
While the emotional dimensions of fear and
pride are important, so are the more cognitive dimensions of logic and choice. War
can be seen as a decision to maximize gains
and minimize losses. One way to understand the logic of excessive arms buildup is
through game theory (O'Neill, 1989), a mathematically formal approach for examining
decision-making that assumes people rationally choose to maximize outcomes. The
Prisoner's Dilemma Game (PDG), for example, employs a set of payo{)ff contingencies that frequently result in self-destructive
behavior (Rapoport, 1962; Rapoport &
Chammah, 1965). When two people are
faced with a choice to cooperate or compete, their decision is greatly affected by the
costs of being betrayed. In thousands of laboratory studies (Dawes, 1991), people got
trapped into self-destructive behaviors by
trying to avoid risks. When the repercussions of being betrayed by one's enemy are
too great, trust is unlikely, and choices that
seem defensive quickly become self-defeating. From the perspective of game theory,
nuclear planners in the United States and
Soviet Union became caught in a set of contingencies, whereby attempts to maximize
gains and minimize risks led to irrational
choices on both sides.
The competitive aspect of such a game
has its historical roots in Realpolitik, a political philosophy that assumes nation-states
operate in a competitive system of threats
(see Chapter 1, this volume). The logic of
Realpolitik predicts that nations with inadequate arsenals will be attacked, and the only

Structural Violence

way to assure deterrence is to build a mightier set of threats than one's adversaries.
Clearly fear and pride are at stake in these
decisions, but from the perspective of game
theory, excessive nuclear weapons production is also an outcome of logic, when that
logic is based on presumed competitiveness
and hostility of other nations. When the
stakes of being betrayed are horrendous,
defensive choices are logical, even when
they produce great costs.
Although presumed competitiveness of
the other may sometimes be accurate, countries often interpret an adversary's actions
as offensive, when the adversary perceives its
own actions as defensive (Bronfenbrenner,
1961; Pilisuk, 1972.) We call this paradox
the offense/defense ambiguity. An example is
the U.S. bombing of Iraq during the late
1990s. While the United States claimed that
its actions were designed to prevent Iraq's
future use of weapons of mass destruction
(thus a defense), Iraq clearly saw the U.S.
actions as offensive (Newsday, January '18,
1998). A second example of the offense/defense ambiguity is the Cuban Missile crisis.
When the Soviets sent a ship with nuclear
materials to protect Cuba in 1962 (regarded
by the Soviets as a defensive action), the
United States quickly interpreted the move
as offensive and sent a blockade to surround the ship. Tensions mounted as the
two countries came as close to nuclear
strikes as any time before or after. Further
demonstrating the tendency to see one's
own actions as purely defensive, the United
States changed the name of its "Department
of War" to "Department of Defense" in
1948.
This offense/defense ambiguity is an
example of the funda'Tltl!Tttal attribution erT(f1'
(Ross, 1977), by which we explain our own
behavior in situational terms, but others' behavior as an outcome of their intentions
and dispositions. Behavior by a perceived
adversary that is poorly understood is easily

Understanding Militarism: Money, Masculinity, and the Search for the Mystical

interpreted as intentional aggression Qervis,
1976), whereas the action of our own country seems a natural self-protective reaction
to a dangerous situation. Unfortunately
these misperceptions quickly accumulate
and lead to armed conflict (Stoessinger,
1998), undertaken out of defense rather
than offense. Charles Osgood (1962) noted
this proclivity in his theory about reciprocated aggression. When one's moves are
seen as offensive, they stimulate reciprocated aggression; when one's moves are
clearly seen as an attempt to de-escalate tension, they can be reciprocated and armed
conflict can be avoided (Pilisuk & Skolnick,
1968).

THE MONETARY BASIS
OF MODERN MIUTARISM
With or without perceived threat from adversaries, military expenditures soon develop a life of their own. Though they may
have originally been formulated on the
basis of fear and competition, continued
militarism can only thrive if societies are
able and willing to pay the financial costs. In
modern bureaucracies, budgets develop
self-sustaining power.
The U.S. defense budget, for example,
is often justified on the basis of economic,
rather than security reasons. Jobs, it is argued, are the reason we need bigger budgets. Budget cutbacks are dangerous not because of national security, but rather for
economic reasons. For example, when the
1998 U.S. Congress allocated an additional
$7 billion to the Defense Department beyond what the Pentagon requested, legislators argued that jobs would be threatened if
orders for weapons and base operations
were diminished (Kreisher, 1998).
The job argument is fallacious, however, because spending on infrastructure
creates more jobs than spending on defense. For example, in the United States,

143

$1 billion pays for 9,000 guided missile production jobs; 21,600 local transit jobs; 63,000
educational services jobs; or 16,500 jobs in
pollution control (Renner, 1990). Thus
three times as many jobs are created when
federal monies are directed toward domestic
programs than toward weapons. Similar
figures have been generated for Germany,
India, and other countries (Renner, 1990).
Industrialized countries increasingly
build and sell weapons because bureaucratic
conservatism and vested interests are
strongly reflected in military spending patterns (Pearson, 1994). Weapons are big business. Over a quarter of the top 500 multinational corporations are licensed to produce
and export arms (Buzuev, 1985). Governments need weapons industries to maintain
their arms businesses, and often parcel out
contracts to various manufacturers and laboratories to keep them going. In this way, the
United States has sustained numerous aerospace firms, including McDonell-Douglas,
Northrop, Boeing, General Dynamics, and
Lockheed (Pearson,1994).
Efforts to control the manufacture and
distribution of arms produce a dynamic tension between economic forces and longrange security. Unfortunately, the increasingly global production system makes arms
control more difficult than ever. Big arms
firms work under multinational structures,
where cross-border military/corporate collaboration leads to foreign investments, international subcontracting, international licensing, and joint ventures. If one country
has regulations that forbid arms sales to a
certain customer, a deal can still be closed
by using a foreign partner-firm (Pearson,
1994). Moreover, well-educated but unemployed engineers and scientists can offer
their services to potential enemies abroad.
Such internationalization of the arms industry is eclipsing the power of national governments to maintain regulations of any sort
(Greider, 1998). Consequendy, arms firms

144
can continue producing weapons long after
their utility for national security has waned.
Thus, arms manufacturers' quarterly reports illuminate more about the militarization of the world than anyone political ideology, Realpolitik included. Most of the
wars around the planet are now fought
within nations, with small arms supplied by
developed countries. Almost 90 percent of
all war deaths are caused by guns, rather
than missiles, bombs, or tanks. Small arms
are cheap: for $50 million (the price of one
modem fighter jet), 200,000 assault rifles
can be purchased. Small arms sales are
largely unregulated, but rampant: $3 billion
worth of small and light weapons are
shipped across borders each year (Renner,
1998). Moreover, small arms feed private security units, which are increasing in number
and size, just as national armies are shrinking. In some countries, such as South Africa
and Australia, private security forces are
larger than national armies (Renner, 1998).
Thus, while Realpolitik may have provided the logic for massive military expenditures between the superpowers during the
Cold War, market forces contribute to its
healthy survival long after the reasons for
creating them have faded. But market
forces cannot be the whole story because
market forces exist for all human endeavors, whereas militarization has thrived when
social spending has dropped. To answer
why, we tum to the question of just who is
responsible for making decisions to buy
bombs instead of butter.

MASCULINISM AND THE
MILITARY CULTURE
Arms dealers, makers, producers, designers,
and users are almost universally male. Feminists ask about the gender of those making
important decisions (Seager, 1993) and find
it consequential that militaries and state de-

Structural Violence

partments are almost entirely made up of
men, working in highly masculinist institutions that glorify and promote the traditional male values of strength, power, and
competitive advantage. From a feminist perspective, male dominance of military and
arms industries is no coincidence. As Cynthia Enloe (1993) notes, universally, "masculinity has been so intimately connected to
militarism that it is no wonder there have
been questions about whether the two are
analytically separable" (p.52).
War is always, in some way, a test of gender, and soldiering a test of manhood (Elshtain, 1987). Drill sergeants are hired to
make boys into men. Boot camp recruits are
called "ladies," "girls," or "fags," until they
are toughened up for their role as killersthen they become men (Ruddick, 1995).
These homophobic, misogynist labels are
justified as a means to prevent troops from
displaying feminine traits and affections
that might threaten the place of ritualized
masculinity (Reardon, 1985).
From their position of control in militarized institutions, men enhance their power
over women by defining and conducting
war, as well as most functions of the state. In
the Pentagon, logic and reason are cherished, emotions and caring are disparaged.
The gendered dimension of reason vs. caring is well-established-males are socialized
to display reason, and females to display caring (Bem, 1981; Gilligan, 1982; Tannen,
1994). The most "hard-nosed" and coldly
"logical" men are the ones promoted in the
defense establishment (Cohn, 1987). Those
men who demonstrate the most masculine
values get to define national security.
Conventional military mechanisms are
saturated in sexual dynamics in which male
power is often expressed through violence
against women. Sexual assaults and harassment are common occurrences in the military, as seen in the military colleges of the

Understanding Militarism: Money, Masculinity, and the Search for the Mystical

United States throughout the 1990s. The
Tailhook scandal, in which naval officers
were convicted of sexual harassment during
an officers' party, is exceptional, not for
its crimes, but for the willingness of the
women officers to press charges (Zimmerman, 1995).
Likewise, domestic violence is three
times higher among U.S. military than nonmilitary families (Thompson, 1994), and
domestic violence escalates when soldiers
return to their homes after war (Edmonds
& Castaneda, 1992). Guatemalan indigenous women have reported more domestic
violence during the civil war in their country (Enloe, 1993), as have Yugoslavian women (Nikolic-Ristanovic, 1996). The sexual
warfare in former Yugoslavia is not new:
Rape of women has always occurred in
armed conflict.
That military men should be so easily
prone to sexual violence is not surprising
when militaries systematically condone the
objectification of women by providing prostitutes for their troops. Military planners see
such services as legitimized rewards that the
hardships of soldiering require. Ubiquitous
in militarized settings, prostitution is officially approved and supported by governments and banks around the world to aid
military personnel. For example, in 1967,
the U.S. military signed a treaty with the
Thai government that allowed soldiers from
Vietnam to visit Bangkok for "recreational
services. " That Thailand is now considered a
world center for the sex industry can be attributed to the various American banks that
loaned the necessary $4 million to build the
massage parlors and brothels (Seager,
1993).
The normalization of prostitution in
the military culture was clearly illustrated
during an incident in 1995 in which three
U.S. soldiers were charged with raping a
schoolgirl in a car near the Anny base in

145

Okinawa,Japan. Their commanding officer
said that the rape could have been avoided
if the soldiers had simply paid for a prostitute. "For the price they paid to rent the car
they could have had a girl," he explained
(Molotsky, 1995). Entangled in the system
of military prostitution, women learn to "interpret womanhood as acceptance of themselves as militarized service objects" (Enloe,
1989, p. 214).
Ritualized masculinity fuels military institutions, and weapons engineers and war
strategists use explicit sexual imagery to describe their powerful technologies. Defense
intellectuals inside the Pentagon use eroticized language, discussing warheads in terms
of "penetration dynamics" with "weight to
thrust ratios" (Cohn, 1987). Nuclear warheads are referred to in sexual terms, as
strategists ask each other if they got to "pat"
the missile? Cohn explains that "patting is
an assertion of intimacy, sexual possession,
affectionate domination. The thrill and
pleasure of 'patting the missile' is the proximity of all that phallic power, the possibility
of vicariously appropriating it as one's own"
(p. 695). With overtly gendered imagery
which celebrates male power, scientists at
Los Alamos Laboratory called the first
atomic bomb "Oppenheimer's baby," and
referred to those that were successfully detonated as male babies, whereas duds were
called girls.
These explicit sexualized images portray identification with male power, a Godlike control over the forces of life and
death. The first atomic bomb test was called
Trinity-the unity of the Father, the Son,
and the Holy Spirit-to symbolize the male
forces of creation. One physicist witnessing
the first test commented that "It was as if we
stood at the first day of creation." Robert
Oppenheimer, lead scientist of the team
which designed the first atomic bomb,
thought of Krishna's words in the Baghavad

146

Gita: "I am become death, the shatterer of
worlds" (Pilisuk, 1999).

EXPERIENCING THE MYSTICAL
At Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory in the United States, nuclear scientists
refer to their club as "the priesthood"
(Gusterson, 1991). Those with great seniority preside over a set of ritualized rites of
passage for the novices. These rituals include years of study in the esoteric and secret classified language, competitive jousting for the role of designer of the next
weapon test, grueling months of hard work
for the chosen, and limited access to the sacred test site for the cloistered elite.
That many nuclear engineers both portray and experience their work in spiritual
terms illuminates the third and perhaps
most elusive dimension of militarism: that
of mystical experience, which we define here as
the experience of absolute or ultimate
forces beyond human control. Mystical experience is at the core of religion, and militarism calls upon deeply religious sentiments. William james acknowledged this
argument in his lecture on "The Moral
Equivalent of War" when he noted that "reflective apologists for war at the present day
take it religiously. It is a sort of sacrament.
Its profits are to the vanquished as well as to
the victor; and quite apart from any question of profit, it is an absolute good, we are
told, for it is human nature at its highest dynamic" (1910/1995, p. 20).
More recendy, Barbara Ehrenreich
(1997) has put mystical experience at the
center of her theory about war. War, she
claims, is a kind of sacrament, a blood ritual
that has drawn on humankind's deepest
and oldest impulses. Although militarism is
not an instinct, the religious sentiment underlying it may be. The religious passions of
war are easily observed throughout history:

Structural Violence

in the more militarized forms of Islamic
jihad, in the Christian Crusades, and in
twentieth-century Nazism, where religious
rituals were manifesdy incorporated. Less
obvious but equally potent are the contemporary religious sentiments in the form of
nationalism. Nationalism elicits spiritual
strengths of self-sacrifice, courage, and
honor. Ehrenreich posits that "the passions
of war are among the 'highest' and finest
passions humans can know: courage, altruism, and the mystical sense of belonging to
'something larger than ourselves'· (1997, p.
238). james noted that these sentiments are
not bad; indeed they represent the more
virtuous dimensions of human existence:
"conceptions of order and discipline, the
tradition of service and devotion, of physical
fitness, ofunstinted exertion, and ofuniversal responsibility" (1910/1995, p. 26).
With such sentiments, large numbers of
people may be swept into an altered state of
consciousness, marked by emotional intensity and a fixation on the collectivity. For example, World War I brought on the ecstasy
of taking part in great events and joy of
overcoming the pain of death. People became socially intoxicated, feeling a part of a
whole, and the sense of being lost in that
greater whole (Partridge, 1919). Even during peace, war monuments and cemeteries
stimulate religious sentiments where civil
worship may take place in sacred places. According to Arnold j. Toynbee, humans require "spiritual sustenance which can be
found in militant nationalism in which the
glorification of War is a fundamental article
offaith" (Toynbee, 1957, p. 18).
Like monks, initiates into military institutions undergo stringent training, deprivation from normal sources of social contact,
and systematic education on the moral dimensions of service. If infantry soldiers do
not always feel a religious conviction about
their soldiering, they at least feel the bond

Understanding Militarism: Money, Masculinity, and the Search for the Mystical

of the platoon as a primary motivation for
putting themselves at risk. Feeling oneself
part of the greater unit, even if it is only the
platoon, rather than the nation, is the spiritual fuel of battle.
The search for the mystical helps us understand why the countervailing forces, such
as the dissolution of the Cold War, increasing gender parity, and informed discussions
about budgets and jobs, have not seriously
impeded militarism. Militaries will continue
to train people for killing, and others will
design, build, and sell weapons, until other
mechanisms for militarism's spiritual dimensions are provided, because these motivations are not only deeply seated, but represent some of the most valued sentiments
of human beings. Given the depth and
value of these religious dimensions, we must
ask: What alternatives could possibly provide an alternative to militarism?

ALTERNATIVES TO MILITARISM
What alternatives can we find to militarism?
Many might claim that the best alternative
to militarism that contemporary industrialized societies offer is sports. In peace-time,
no other single activity draws the collective
embrace of victory, ecstatic crowds, big
money, and national attention as professional and collegiate sports teams. But
sports are more likely to be a predictor of
war than a substitute for it. A connection
between sports and militarism was well established by Mangan (1981), who demonstrated the way team sports in the nineteenth century flourished in British
boarding schools and socialized boys for the
British military. Sports are an efficacious
teacher of militaristic values because they
are inherently competitive and strategic.
War imagery is frequently laden with sports
metaphors, e.g., in Vietnam, a bombing
campaign was named "linebacker I"; and

147

sports imagery is frequently laden with war
metaphors, e.g., football players are referred to as "weapons" who must "obliterate" the "enemy" (Shields & Bredemeier,
1996). Most boys view successful participation in sports as tests of masculinity, whose
links to militarism we have already discussed. Empirical research has shown that
more violent societies engage in more aggressive forms of sports. For example, Sipes
(1973, 1975, 1976) found a strong link between wars and popularity of contact sports.
In another demonstrated link between
athletics and militarism, the number of
months a country had been at war correlated positively with the probability of participation in Olympic games (Keefer, Goldstein, & Kasiarz, 1983). Sports more likely
teach militarism than provide or teach alternatives to it.
We believe that a better substitute
would be to use militaries for domestic programs rather than wars. Long before the
U.S. Job Corps program began, William
James argued that a youth corps should be
substituted for mandatory military service:
Instead of a military conscription, a conscription of the whole youthful population ...
to coal and iron mines, to freight trains, to
fishing fleets in December, to dish-washing,
clothes-washing, and window-washing, to
road building and tunnel-making, to
foundries and stoke-holes, and to the frames
of skyoficrapers, would our gilded youths be
drafted off, to get the childishness knocked
out of them, and to come back into society
with healthier sympathies and soberer ideas.
... [Then] ... no one would remain blind
as the luxurious classes now are blind, to
man's [sic] relations to the globe he lives
on" (1910/1995, pp. 24-25).

Almost a hundred years ago, James argued that the values of military service are
worth retaining: self-sacrifice, discipline,
and work for a common goal. But elites had

148

lost touch with the working poor, and also
lost awareness of their problematic relations
with the planet. Social service and experience with physical labor would be good for
them, and good for society.
We agree withJames. And we would like
to extend his argument by noting both
Ehrenreich's (1997) and Greider's (1998)
similar thoughts about how to retain the
best of militarism, while using it for peace.
Both argue that enormous amounts of
human and financial capital should be
freed from excessive militarism for fighting
that which will be the largest peril of the
twenty-first century: environmental degradation, climactic changes, and the depletion
of natural resources. Worldwide, militaries
use one-third of research and development
resources (Renner, 1990). Just when we
need to reduce excessive expenditures on
militarization, we need funding for environmental reclamation, for new technologies
for sustainable culture, including renewable
forms of energy, water conservation, nonpolluting agricultural practices, and sustainable urban planning.
Converting "swords to plowshares" will
not be an easy task but it is imperative and it
is underway. In Indiana, an Army ammunition plant was converted to parkland and a
small business center (Wade, 1994). The
California State University at Monterey Bay
opened in 1995 on former Fort Ord (Hartigan, 1995). Citizen groups have worked on
converting San Francisco's Presidio (Ruben-

Structural Violence

son, 1996). Most defense contractors are
studying ways to convert weapons technologies to consumer goods.
Meanwhile it is also appropriate to
nominate nonviolent direct action (see Steger, this volume) for the moral equivalent
of war. Such activities have brought independence to India, the overthrow of a violent dictator in Haiti, and a revolution in
the rights of Mrican Americans in the
United States. The teachings of Gandhi and
Martin Luther King, Jr. both illuminate how
nonviolent action enlists people's energies
in great contests of strategy, and provide an
opportunity for identifying with causes that
affirm the spiritual. Because most wars are
now fought within, rather than between,
nation-states, the prospects for allegiance to
symbols of hope are more decentralized.
The same human strengths tapped by militarism could be directed to social action.
The challenges for human survival in
the twenty-first century are great, but so
have been the inordinate expenditures on
militarization in the twentieth. Rechanneling our money, attention and commitment
from destroying enemies to combating environmental decline and building sustainable
societies (see concluding chapter) will be
our greatest and most challenging project.
Yet we are entitled to feel hopeful because
the powerful motivations of money, masculinism, and mystical experience are still
available and we can chose to direct them
toward building peace, instead of war.

CHAPTER 13

GLOBALISM AND
STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE
Marc Pilisuk1

Sometimes in history we witness so dramatic
a change in the way human beings live that
it affects almost every aspect of how we define what it means to be human. Globalism
is such a phenomena. I have chosen the
tenn globalism to emphasize the condition of
a highly interdependent planet. One aspect
of globalism refers to a global culture in
which all people are exposed to similar
ideas through the media. Globalism leads
people to wear Westem-style clothing, seek
greater consumption regardless of what
they already have, and to work hard to get
money. Under globalism's influence, people learn to equate the process of holding
elections, however biased, with democracy,
and equate corporate expansion and technological development with progress. As I
shall argue in this paper, globalism is a pernicious fonn of structural violence which
creates poverty, diminishes the human
sense of agency or control, and hanns the
environment.
The chapter begins with a review of one
of the most vital of human characteristics,
our capacity for making attachments to
other people and to the settings where we
live. I show first how the capacity for human

bonding, essential to human development,
has evolved historically and how the settings
for such development have changed. I then
focus upon those aspects of globalization
that have the most profound effects on us,
including structural violence in the workplace, in women's health, and in domestic
terrorism. Finally, I point to the striking resiliency of people trying to retain and protect the values of caring for each and for
their planet in a growing global community.
To understand globalism, it is useful to
examine the opposite condition of localism.
For most of human history, meaningful social interactions occurred in a limited geographic area among a small local band. People in these groups were typically linked to
each other by kinship, but also economically, socially, and spiritually (Demos, 1970).
People valued the lives of others and the
ecology in which they lived because they
were directly sustained by kin and local resources. Connection to other people and to
a special place produces a sense of identity
and of security (Proshansky, Fabian, &
Kaminoff, 1995; Winter, 1998). The mechanism that assured fulfillment of their ties
was caring (Pilisuk & Parks, 1986). Families

lThe author wishes to express thanks to Jennifer Tennant, Jan Arnow, and Jolaine Beal for assistance with documentation and research.

149

150

and local communities created norms limiting violence that might undermine their
continuity. These pre-industrialized groups
should not be romanticized. These societies
were often rigid, highly stratified, and characterized by the exploitation of the mcyority
for the few. Close living and scarce resources sometimes resulted in some anger
and violence. Local units often preclude
privacy and demand conformity from their
members. Those who found themselves in
oppressive families or communities often
had no way to leave or to improve their lot.
Some families did not survive. But those kinship groupings that best provided for the
care and safety of their members were able
to endure and pass on their methods of assuring supportive behavior.
As corporations become the social group
commanding major portions of the waking
day, the mechanism that assures interactive
behavior is not caring, but rather marketability.
Individual identities are no longer created
solely in small units. Increasingly, identities
and measures of success become the ability to
sell oneself to a large corporate entity. Although family and community life are still retained outside of the corporation, participation in the marketplace often weakens the
feeling of belonging and meaning (Bellah,
Madsen, Sullivan, Swidler, & Tipton, 1985;
Pilisuk & Parks, 1986). One anthropologist
writing in 1936 expressed the hope that
growing industrialization would not further
transform society into a collection of rootless
individuals searching in vain for the bands
they had lost (Linton, 1936).

HUMAN COSTS OF GLOBALIZATION
The weakening of ties to special people and
places has produced more than a nostalgia
for simpler times. First, globalization has
come with serious violence to health and
well-being. The change from caring to marketability is harmful first because it has in-

Structural Violence

creased poverty and social marginality. The
poor are at a greater risk for every form of
affront to physical health and mental wellbeing (Browne & Bassuk, 1997; Syme &
Berkman,1976).
Second, globalization harms us psychologically. The cultural capacities that
evolved to provide people with particular
human identities and attachments to other
people were developed and passed on
largely in direct, face-to-face contacts. The
study of how people learn to make bonding
attachments is one of the mcyor themes
both of developmental psychology (Ainsworth, 1982; Bowlby, 1973) and of feminist
theories of psychological identity (Belenky,
Clinchy, Goldberger, & Tarule, 1986). Appreciation of special people and of special
places is still a human need, but such needs
are increasingly met by what corporations
will sell us for recreation, leisure, and escape. These alternatives cater to a basic narcissism, or seeking of pleasure for oneself
(Kanner & Gomes, 1995). For most people,
these marketed outlets are not sufficient.
They provide only temporary respite from
the pressured activity of the competitive
workplace, and they fail to address the need
for intimate social ties, or for finding creativity in the activities of everyday life.
Third, globalization devastates the natural environment. While global corporations require growth, the resources of the
earth are finite. Corporate growth and the
consumption patterns create harmful accumulations of waste, jeopardizing health and
local communities. For example, toxic
wastes from more than 40 countries are
shipped to a single company, Chemical
Waste Management in Emelle, Alabama,
where the contamination takes a toll on the
mostly Afro-American and extremely poor
citizens who live in the area. (Political Ecology Group, 1994). While contaminated environments have been most harsh for impoverished people of color, problems of

Globalism and Structural Violence

ozone depletion, global warming, depletion
of rainforests, loss of fish and other wildlife,
diminished access to clean water, and the
presence of airborne contaminants are
problems affecting all people. Solutions to
these environmental dangers are no longer
possible within a single country.

POVERTY: ITS PSYCHOLOGY
AND ITS DISTRIBUTION
The global market has created winners and
losers, a polarization of income greater than
at any time since records have been kept. In
1997, the world's 477 billionaires (up from
358 the year before) had combined earnings
greater than the poorer half of the entire
world's population (Korten, 1999). Corporate growth increased 11 percent, and CEOs
from the major corporations increased their
incomes by 50 percent. Of the 100 largest
economies in the world, 51 are now corporations rather than nation-states (Hacker,
1997; Korten, 1995). Between 1950 and
1997, the world economy grew six-fold, to a
total of $29 trillion. Yet each year, twelve
million children under five years of age
die-33,000 per day-the overwhelming
m:yority from preventable illnesses. An
equal number survive with permanent disabilities that could have been prevented
(U.N. Development Programme, 1997).
Wealthy nations like the United States
are not immune from devastating economic
polarization. In 1996, the top 5 percent of
U.S. households collected 21.4 percent of
the national income, the highest level ever
recorded. The income of the lowest 20 percent decreased by 11 percent (Hacker,
1997; U.S. Census, 1997a). In that time period, approximately 20 million Americans
did not have enough to eat-a 50 percent rise since 1985 (U.S. Census, 1997b).
Twenty-one million people used food banks
or soup kitchens, but 70,000 people were
turned away when supplies ran out (Alaimo,

151
Briefel, Frongillo, & Olson, 1988; LamisonWhite, 1997). Close to 2 million people become homeless each year (Fagan, 1998).
Limited material resources are not the
only plight of poor people. Poverty inflicts
psychological scars as well; it is an experience
of scarcity amidst affluence. For many reasons, such as those discussed by Opotow (this
volume), poverty produces the scorn of others and the internalized scorn of oneself. Indigence is not just about money, roads, or
TVs, but also about the power to determine
how local resources will be used to give meaning to lives. The power of global corporations
in local communities forces people to depend on benefits from afar. Projected images
of the good life help reduce different cultural values to the one global value of money.
Meanwhile, money becomes concentrated in
fewer hands. The world is dividing into a
small group of "haves· and a growing group
of paupers. This division of wealth inflicts a
level of structural violence that kills many
more persons than have died by all direct acts
of violence and by war.

STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE
IN THE WORKPLACE
Modem trade agreements have released
giant corporations to move where environmental restrictions are absent, taxes low,
and labor cheap. As a result, workers suffer.
For example, in an Indonesian factory contracting for Nike, the working conditions
are hot and crowded, yet drinking water is
rationed. A worker must get a permission
slip to use the bathroom. She also has to
come in when sick to get permission from
the company doctor to stay home. If she
cannot do so--even with a note from her
own doctor-she is forced upon her return
to undergo a two-hour public scolding. A
worker of 28 is considered old for the work
and can expect to be dismissed. The women suffer sexual harassment from guards

152
touching their bodies to verify that they are
not stealing shoe parts (Rhodes, 1997a).
People who have no other alternative seek
these jobs in Indonesia. Bad as the situation
is, people suffer even more as these jobs are
being lost to people who will work for even
less in Vietnam, Haiti, China, and Pakistan.
For example, of the 1,000 employees of
the Keyhinge Toys factory in Da Nang, Vietnam, 90 percent are women 17 to 20 years
old. They make the giveaway toy characters
from Disney films for McDonald's "Happy
Meals." These workers are exposed to acetone fumes, while management refuses to
pay health insurance. Women at Keyhinge
received six to eight cents an hour in 1997.
Wages failed to cover 20 percent of the daily
food and travel costs for a single worker, let
alone her family (Pilisuk, 1998). The CEO
of Disney, by contrast, earned $203 million
in the same year (Rhodes, 1997b).
Like most of the countries permitting
sweatshops, Indonesia forbids independent
unions. The official government union, run
by retired military officers, deducts dues
from paychecks and suppresses workers who
express grievances. When conditions become intolerable, massive walkouts occur.
After the workers negotiate an agreement
and return to work, the police interrogate
suspected leaders. For example, Cicih, a
young woman, worked at a Nike contractor
factory in Indonesia. In 1992, she and several others led almost all of the 6,500 workers to strike over wages and working conditions. The normal work day was ten and a
half hours with forced overtime three times
a week. Pay was about $2.10 a day in U.S.
dollars (Bissel, 1997). These workers were
fired and blacklisted so they cannot find further employment (Rhodes, 1997c).
The "neutral" position taken by Nike
was to leave such matters to the Indonesian
Supreme Court, meaning that Cicih may

Structural Violence

not live to see her case decided. In 1997, the
Court ruled on only 24 cases out of 2,000.
Nike claims to pay above the minimum
wage. But to attract investment, Indonesia,
like many other nations, sets the minimum
wage below the poverty line (Rhodes,
1997c). Here, structural violence is appalling but insidious: The global corporations
do not inflict the harsh treatment directly.
They merely encourage harm by investing
capital where such conditions bring the best
returns.

DEHUMANIZING WORK
IN DEVELOPED
AND DEVELOPING COUNTRIES
Free trade agreements affect community
well-being on both sides of the U.S.-Mexican border. In 1997, U.S. President Clinton
paid a visit to Mexico on Cinco de Mayo to
promote the next phase of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA). He
spoke to thousands of Mexican businessmen about the success of free trade. Like
the United States, Mexico has a new group
of millionaires. Unemployment, however,
has reached an all-time high.
The Mexican military needed massive
numbers of soldiers to buttress police efforts in clearing out a protest that appeared
immense enough to bring Mexico City, the
largest city in the world, to a close. Military
backup and virtual press blackouts are not
surprising when one considers the corporate stakes on both sides of the border. Real
wages in Mexico have dropped since the
General Agreement on Trade and Tariffs
was signed in 1995. The number of workers,
called "maquiladoras," workingjust over the
border has increased by 45 percent, while
their average earnings have dropped from
one dollar an hour to 70 cents. The extent
of desperation leads to violence. Within the

Globalism and Structural Violence

past decade, the peasants of Northern
Tabasco organized a hunger strike until
death, while the Zapatistas arose to rebel
against harsh military suppression of displaced workers in Chiapas and Guerara
(Harvey, 1998).
Meanwhile, the Alfred Angelo Company, founded in 1940 in Philadelphia,
demonstrates the ugly brutality of structural
violence produced by globalism. For generations, a skilled and dedicated workforce
helped the Piccione family become a premiere bridal gown company, supplying the
best-known labels and marketing through
the j.C. Penney catalog. Annual sales for
this company rose from $45 million in 1985,
when Piccione acquired the license to produce and market "Christian Dior" bridal
gowns, to $59 million in 1996. The company
eliminated most of its U.S. jobs, including
the 70 workers in the unionized Philadelphia-area cutting and handling center, and
over 200 workers in shops in New York City
(Rhodes, 1997d). Some of the gowns made
with the Alfred Angelo label are being sewn
in Guatemala and China It is difficult to
know the conditions under which the clothes
were made in China. However, in April 1997,
a survey of three factories in Guatemala
producing for Alfred Angelo revealed widespread violations of that country's laws, including use of child labor, illegal wage and
hour schedules, and life-threatening safety
conditions. Fourteen- and 15-year-olds worked
ten and eleven hours a day, earning less than
minimum wage. Some worked until 2:00 A.M.
and had to return at 7:00 A.M. the same day
for a full shift. This schedule violated Alfred
Angelo's own code of conduct for foreign
vendors as well as Guatemalan laws requiring
time off for children to go to school. Two
years earlier, workers in one factory attempted to organize and there were mass firings (Rhodes, 1997d).

153
The company claimed "business reasons" to explain its elimination of jobs in
the United States. The reason is similar to
that offered by Phillips Van Heusen (PVH),
a major producer of apparel fOr" export, for
choosing to close the only factory in
Guatemala that had finally secured a collective bargaining agreement after a six-year
struggle. PVH is the leading U.S. marketer
of men's shirts, and owns not only the Van
Heusen label but also Izod, Gant, Geoffrey
Beene, Bass, and others. In neither the PVH
nor the Angelo case were the labor cuts
needed to stay in business. The cuts were
made because the companies could make
more profit through contractors and because their competition could be expected
to do the same. The PVH situation has resulted in protests across the United States.
Some of the Philadelphia community rallied behind the Alfred Angelo workers.
Local newspapers have written editorials in
support of the workers' fight to save their
jobs. In speeches and rallies, Alfred Angelo
employees have allied themselves with the
exploited workers in Guatemala and China,
demanding an end to exploitation of workers in sewing factories in the United States
and abroad.
But the people of Philadelphia will not
be able to find legal support for economic
pressure to keep their jobs when restrictions
on trade are eliminated. The rights of municipali~es to engage in boycotts, like those
which helped to end apartheid in South
Mrica, or which oppose brutal dictatorial
practices in Burma, are currently being
viewed as restrictions on trade. The Multilateral Agreement on Investments is soon
likely to make nations and local governments liable for any restrictions upon foreign investments that might result from
such protective regulations as environmental safety or living wage requirements

154

(Campaign for Labor Rights, 1998; Rauber,
1998).

GLOBAUZATION'S STRUCTURAL
VIOLENCE ON WOMEN'S HEALTH
Wherever the global economy expands into
poor areas and replaces the means for local
livelihood, HIV spreads among poor women
(Daily, Farmer, Rhatigan, Katz, & Furin,
1995). Lacking decent legal employment,
the women become involved with drug traffickers and prostitution. Prostitution is an
outgrowth of structural violence. The
United Nations estimates that in 1997, there
were 57 million women and child prostitutes. Thirty thousand "hospitality girls" are
registered in the Philippines, but the actual
number of prostitutes is about 75,000
(Rosenfeld, 1997). Originally, these prostitutes seIVed two large American military
bases, welcomed in the Philippines under
the dictatorial regime of Ferdinand Marcos.
After Marcos was forced from power, Subic
Air Force Base was turned into a free-trade
zone, bringing in 150 large corporations
(Barry, 1995; Rosenfeld, 1997). The AsiaPacific Economic Forum considered the
Philippines the best place for investment
among ten Asian Pacific countries. The benefits, however, have not reached the women,
who continue to sell their bodies even with
the increased risk ofHN infection.
Meanwhile, the Ukraine has surpassed
Thailand as the center of the global business
in trafficking women. Young European
women are in demand, and the Ukraine,
economically devastated by its entrance into
the global economy, has provided the supply. Thirty applicants compete for every job
in the Ukraine. The average salary today is
less than thirty dollars a month, but only half
that in the small towns where criminal gangs
recruit women with promises of employment in other countries (Specter, 1998).

Structural Violence

In Southeast Asia, sub-Saharan Africa,
and U.S. cities, the livelihood choices open
to poor women are restricted. The HN epidemic is spreading rapidly among poor
women of color. The incidence is high
wherever the global economy replaces the
means for local livelihood (Daily et al.,
1995). The increase is combined with minimal access to treatment, which is also limited by the low tax base needed to lure
global capital.
"Since 1987, AIDS has been the leading
cause of death among 15-45-year-old Black
and Latina women in NYC" (Simmons,
Farmer, & Schoepf, 1995, pp. 42-43). Between seven and ten thousand American
children are orphaned each year when their
mothers die from AIDS (Gardner &
Preator, 1996).

GLOBAL FACTORS
IN DOMESTIC TERRORISM
When decent working-class jobs move from
the United States to countries with cheap
labor and less environmental regulation,
displaced workers seek scapegoats. This loss
has led to acts of terrorism. People like TimothyMcVeigh, charged with the 1995 bombing of a U.S. Federal Building in Oklahoma,
and bombers of Black churches, are depicted by the media as deranged. This portrayal conceals similarities in their ideologies and in their options. Many of these
former workers blame the government's
affinity for racial minorities and immigrants, who are getting jobs deseIVed by
"true Americans." One common view is that
wealthy Jewish bankers control government
policies in a conspiratorial effort to create a
world government that would prevent people from defending themselves (Abanes,
1996; Lamy, 1996). But for the fact that
some of these extremists have guns and military training, one might dismiss them as so-

155

Globalism and Structural Violence

ciopaths unable to find a useful purpose.
There is, however, no useful purpose open
to them.
Half the U.S. working population has
suffered falling or stagnant wages for about
20 years. The media tell us that the good life
can be purchased on credit. But millions
lack the education to participate in a global
economy. Former Labor Secretary Robert
Reich confronted the inability of government to provide such education. However,
his "Putting People First," the populist plan
to train people for skilled jobs, has been sacrificed. Balancing the budget, setting interest rates to satisfy Wall Street, and reducing
trade barriers are policies that require cutting the safety net (Reich, 1997a; 1997b). In
many cases, corporation lobbyists write legislation, manage press releases, and establish as much access as can be bought in
Washington (Domhoff, 1971; Seager, 1994;
Silverstein, 1998). Hence we can see why
the Senate has yet to ratify the International
Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights, a worldwide treaty that has
been ratified by 136 other countries, including the G-7 nations. The treaty oudines a
range of civil and human rights principles,
including "fair wages," "right to work," and
nondiscrimination-all constraints upon
economic expansion (Rauber, 1998). Corporation-friendly laws do not reflect an evil
scheme. They are consequences of the limited place left for government in a global
economy.

A GLOBAL MONOCULTURE
OF THE MIND
Perhaps the greatest challenge posed by
globalism is how to retain the vital diversity
of human voices and communities. Factory
piece-workers do the same assembly work
the world over. One can buy identical products from similar chain stores around the

globe. Uniform standards for people and
products increase profitability. Standardization yields low overhead costs, less customer
service, and greater profits. The benefits of
this efficiency are not well-distributed.
Three-quarters of the money spent locally
for a universally marketed fast food hamburger will leave the community, subsidizing global corporations with local resources
(Gour & Gunn, 1991; Hanauer, 1998).
Centralized control of the media contributes to skepticism that local voices can
be heard (Pilisuk, Parks, & Hawkes, 1987).
Similar global economic factors are considered important in explaining the lack of involvement by adolescents in social issues
(Damon, 1998). Under globalization, the
opportunity for distinctive voices to be
heard is reduced, yet the voices of local residents are needed to address issues raised by
global expansion.

ANOTHER GLOBAL SOCIETY
EMERGING TO PREVENT GLOBAL
STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE
Fortunately, an international global network of nongovernmental organizations
(NGOs) and local groups has risen dramatically in the nineties. NGOs are creating another global society based upon hearing
local community voices (Pilisuk, McAllister,
& Rothman, 1996). For example, near San
Francisco, California, the voice of Tri-Valley
Citizens (TVC) Against a Radioactive Environment exemplifies a spirit of local participation that refuses to give in to forces of the
global economy. TVC resides in the community built around the nearby Lawrence livermore National Laboratories, one of the centers of research on nuclear weapons and
nuclear energy. A contract between the
Department of Energy and the University of
California provides a screen oflegitimacy for
highly paid scientists to do secret classified

156
work perpetuating the development of nuclear weapons. Major corporations such as
Bechtel, Westinghouse, Raytheon, and General Electric have been beneficiaries of nuclear weapons contracts and secrecy protects their work. TVC was organized in the
apartment of one of the local residents to
address concerns about risks to health and
safety from the work at Livermore. These
local citizens were concerned as well with
the laboratory's mission of creating nuclear
weapons. By leafleting and talking to neighbors, TVC gained support, including some
assistance secretly provided by Livermore
employees. Through diligent efforts, the
group uncovered numerous violations of
health and safety standards. They testified at
various legally mandated hearings called by
the Department of Health, the Department
of Energy, and the Environmental Protection Agency.
Demonstrating the increasingly effective networking ofNGO groups, TVCjoined
the Livermore Environment and Peace As.
sociation, a coalition consisting of approximately 20 Bay Area peace and environmental groups who help with press. releases,
demonstrations, and legal actions. TVC is
also part of the Military Production Network, a national coalition providing information for each the 18 nuclear weapons facilities in the United States. TVC has also
maintained contact with an international
network of nuclear weapons survivors, from
Kazakhstan to islands in the South Pacific,
including veterans groups and down-winders
from Utah and Nevada. Several of the laboratory's more dangerous projects have been
delayed or canceled, and the dissenting actions have brought an end to the incineration of radioactive wastes. The director of
the laboratory was fired. TVC's objective of
converting the giant laboratory to a center
for environmental and medical research has
not yet been achieved, but the group has

Structural Violence

reached many people and has demonstrated
the possibility of thinking globally and acting locally (Pilisuk, 1996).
The Borneo Project offers another creative response to the global economy. Borneo's indigenous communities have cared
for their home in the world's oldest rainforest for thousands of years. In return, the
forest has provided the communities with
resources needed to survive. These wellestablished but fragile relationships are now
in jeopardy. Ignoring land claims by native
peoples, logging companies and oil palm
plantations are clear-cutting the forest. It is
impossible to guess the costs to future generations from the depletion of the earth's
oxygen and extinction of medicinal plant
species and other genetic resources. Immediate costs to communities are, however, apparent. Rivers have been contaminated and
forests eroded. The abundant resource base
upon which a people have depended for
the past millennium is diminishing (Pilisuk,
1998).
The village of Uma Bawang, in Malaysian Borneo, has become a center of attempts to bring social and environmental
justice to their region. In 1991, Berkeley,
California and Uma Bawang became sister
communities and launched the nonprofit
Borneo Project. The project's volunteers
use citizen diplomacy, direct assistance, and
cultural exchange. The project enables
local villages to secure traditional land
claims, network with international NGOs,
and monitor violations of human and land
rights. The project also educates the public
on these issues. Finally, the group raises
funds that go directly to support the Uma
Bawang Residents Association (Earth Island
Institute, 1997). If the project succeeds in
saving some of the rainforest, it will become
a model for communities everywhere. A
tribal leader in Sarawak explained the importance of this approach:

Globalism and Structural Violence
... in our race to modernize we must respect the ancient cultures and traditions of
our peoples. We must not blindly follow that
model of progress invented by European
wealth; we must not forget that this wealth
was bought at a very high price. The rich
world suffers from so much stress, pollution,
violence, poverty, and spiritual emptiness.
The wealth of the indigenous communities
lies not in money or commodities, but in
community, tradition, and a sense of belonging to a special place. (Earth Island Institute, 1997, p. 3)

CONCLUSION
The Sarawak example not only demonstrates the increasing effectiveness of global
activism to reduce structural violence, but
also brings us back to the initial distinction
between caring and marketability. Markets
are the primary arena for economic entrepreneurship and technical innovation. They
do not, however, instruct people with large
incomes to consume only their rightful
share of natural resources. Markets do not
prevent retailers from selling guns to children or require producers to recycle their
waste. They give no priority for the allocation of resources to meet basic needs of
those in poverty before providing luxuries
for those with great wealth. Civil societies
create governments to establish and maintain rules that might restrict the forces of
the market and permit the expression of
caring (Makhijani, 1992).
The Sarawak example has important implications for psychology. Globalization, with
its complex demands upon the individual
psyche, is upon us. Our Western psychology
has long focused on finding logical answers
to specific questions, often based upon understanding the rewards to individuals for
specific behaviors. But this analysis shows

157
that we will need to reestablish the human
community'S capacity for caring. This transformation will require the best of our discipline. Vaclav Havel notes that "without a
global revolution in consciousness, nothing
will change for the better in the sphere of our
being as humans, and the catastrophe toward
which we are headed ... will be unavoidable"
(as cited in Lasley, 1994, p. 3).
Surely a psychology that is more global
in its understanding and better able to appreciate the contributions from non-Western
and from indigenous thought is needed
(Marsella, 1998). The current condition of
globalism presents a challenge. We live with
the threat of biological or nuclear terrorism
(see Britton, this volume). Much of the world
has experienced interminable intrastate or
regional wars that stem from unequal access
to resources, water scarcity, endless waves of
refugees, and overcrowded cities at risk for
dangerous epidemics (see Winter, Christie,
Wagner, & Boston, this volume).
But the process of globalization has
also come with unprecedented opportunities for communication, an increase of contact among different cultures, and a growth
of nongovernmental international structures
that monitor and regulate the consequences
of our changed world. Globalism has also
brought to the fore the need for universal
protections of basic human rights, and an
awareness of the values of cultural and environmental diversity. These potentials for
healthy psychological and social development in a global community are illustrated
in the Borneo and Livermore Projects and in
thousands of others like them. Hopefully,
our new global opportunities for contact
with people and places can provide openings for informed action in constraining
structural violence and redirecting the powerful forces of globalism.

CHAPTER 1·4

HUMAN RIGHTS VIOLATIONS
AS STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE
M. Brinton Lykes

Psychologists have been involved in multiple efforts to end war and other conditions
that contribute to human rights violations
(Smith, 1999). They have also worked extensively with survivors of human rights
abuses (Grac;a Macheil UN Study on the
Effects of War on Children, 1998; Lykes,
Brabeck, Ferns, & Radan, 1993; Lykes &
Liem, 1990). Much of the work has focused
on the effects of direct violence and on the
consequences of violating individuals' civil
and political rights (called first-generation
human rights).
In this chapter, however, I am concerned
about later generations of human rights and
their impact on the waywe think and practice
as peace psychologists. Whereas first-generation rights refer to civil and political rights,
second-generation rights focus on social,
economic, and cultural rights. Third-generation rights refer to "solidarity rights," such as
the right to development, self-determination, peace, and a clean environment. Fourthgeneration rights refer to the rights of
indigenous peoples. After discussing the historical formulations of these rights, I then
show how several recent psychological theories, including liberation psychology, cultural psychology, and social constructivism
elucidate this extended thinking about
human rights. I will argue that examining
158

these extended human rights helps us illuminate the chronic and hidden structural violence produced by armed conflict. I will then
describe how the cases of Argentina and
Guatemala demonstrate a "shift toward the
social and structural" within selected areas of
psychological and human rights discourse.
Finally, I will describe community peacebuilding that focuses on the structural violence produced by violations of these extended human rights.

FOUR GENERATIONS
OF HUMAN RIGHTS
Many human rights scholars and social scientists have adopted the language of "generations of rights"! to refer to the historical
development of formulated rights (No hid,.
ing place: Human rights-A world report, 1998;
Messer, 1995). Within this understanding,
first-generation rights (civil-political rights)
lThose who critique the language of "generations of
rights" argue, in contrast, that it is not a useful distinction because conventions such as the Elimination of
Discrimination against Women (approved in 1979) and
the Rights of the Child (approved in 1989) cut across
these ·supposed generations," integrating individual
and group rights (see, for example, Oloka-Onyango &
Tamale, 1995). Despite this critique, in this chapter I
have used the language of generations of rights to develop my argument.

Human Rights Violations as Structural Violence

were developed in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries, and second-generation rights (social, economic, and cultural
rights) were developed in the nineteenth
century. First- and second-generation rights
were embodied by the original Universal
Declaration of Human Rights (1948) and
made legally binding in the Conventions on
Civil and Political Rights and on Economic,
Social, and Cultural Rights, both approved
by the United Nations in 1966. In contrast,
third-generation rights refer to "solidarity
rights," such as the right to development,
self-determination, peace, and a clean environment; fourth-generation rights refer to
the rights of indigenous peoples. These latter rights date from the twentieth century
and are embodied in later declarations and
conventions.
Differences in prioritizing among these
various rights have persisted, as evidenced
in the failure of the former Soviet Union
and other socialist cOlmtries to accept individual political rights, despite their having
signed the covenants (Messer, 1997). The
United States, in contrast, has neither ratified nor implemented treaties on social or
economic rights (Katz, 1998; Messer, 1997;
Rosemont, 1998). As significantly, most
Unitedstatesians2 typically think of human
rights abuses primarily in civil or political
terms, that is, as violations of our rights to
free speech, or as arbitrary arrest, or cruel,
inhuman, or degrading treatment or punishment. Implicit within this articulation of
rights is the assumption that it is the rights
of individuals that are being asserted and/
or protected. Few countries from Mrica,
2J'he tenn is a translation of the Spanish tenn "estadounidense" (see Gugelberger, 1996, p. 4, also Note 4,
p. 119). It is used here rather than the more common
"American" since this latter tenn includes reference to
all citizens of the Americas, that is, of Canada, Mexico,
Central and South America, and the United States of
America.

159
Latin America, or Asia belonged to the
United Nations during the period in which
the initial human rights declaration was
drafted. Many were still under colonial rule.
It is not, therefore, surprising that the views
of the "m~ority world" were not well represented in the initial documents (Messer,
1997).
The end of the Cold War has brought
dramatic political changes, creating new alliances and giving voice to formerly marginalized and/or nonexistent states. Some of
these countries achieved liberation from
European colonial rule while new countries
also formed as ethnic/ national groups asserted their independence. Leaders within
these countries, as well as women and indigenous groups throughout the world,
have fought to expand the two original
human rights covenants to include demands
for the rights of women, children, and indigenous peoples (see http://www.un.org for
copies of the Convention on the Rights of
the Child, 1989; the Convention on the
Elimination of Discrimination Against
Women, 1979; and the Draft Declaration on
the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, 1994).
The works of Kam (1998), MencM Tum
(1998), Nagengast (1997), OIoka-Onyango
& Tamale (1995), Rao (1995), Wells (1998),
and Zechenter (1997) describe important
struggles at the grassroots level, and among
academics and policy-makers, that concluded in the extension rights. For example, the draft declaration of indigenous
rights establishes collective rights, that is, "a
right that adheres to certain groups because
it is not reducible to individuals" (Thompson, 1997, p. 789; italics in original). These
collective rights are known as fourth-generation rights. Collective rights raise potential
challenges for Westerners, whose asSlunptions about rights typically are grounded in
the belief that the locus of rights is the autonomous individual.

Structural Violence

160

Thompson (1997), an anthropologist,
distinguishes between collective and group
rights, recognizing that the latter have a
long tradition within the U.S. legal system.
He further distinguishes among ethnic minorities, the nation, and the state, hoping
thus to clarify the declaration's meaning of
collective rights and its implications for
international human rights. Thompson's argument parallels similar developments
within psychology that have emphasized the
social and collective dimensions of individuality while critiquing assumptions of individualism underlying many Euro-American
notions (Sampson, 1993). The Draft Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples
also raises critical concerns about the importance of the environment and the multiple ways in which indigenous identity is
constructed in relationship with the earth
(Menchu Tum, 1998).
In addition, third- and fourth-generation rights challenge the assumed universal
character of the initial human rights declarations. They emphasize the importance of
social context, that is, of culture, the environment, and of history in the very definition of human rights and to whom they
belong. Specifically, third- and fourth-gener~
ation rights affirm the collectivity as an important locus of rights. Debates about indigenous peoples' rights challenge the
presumed universality of human rights by
emphasizing the relative positions of different collectivities in relation to power and
resources (see Universal human rights vs. cultural 'relativity: Special issue, 1997). This expanded understanding of human rights
thus confirms that denial of civil-political
rights as well as economic, cultural, social,
and collective rights constitute human
rights violations and abuses. It focuses attention on the individual and the collective
and the systemic and structural forces in
which they are socially embedded.

PSYCHOLOGICAL CONTRIBUTIONS
TO AN EXPANDED UNDERSTANDING
OF RIGHTS
Although psychologists have not yet explicitly addressed the nature of human rights,
several recent theoretical developments contribute to understanding the implications of
expanded human rights for peace psychologists and others seeking to work with
human rights violations. These developments complement the dominant assumptions in psychology, which are positivist, universalistic, objective, and laboratory-based. I
briefly describe some of these ideas to elucidate how they help us understand extended
human rights violations as structural violence.

Liberation Psychology
in Contexts of War
Ignacio Martin-Baro (1990), a Salvadoran
social psychologist and Jesuit priest, argued
that the aftereffects of political repression
carried out by governments was one of
the thorniest problems confronting Latin
American states hoping to establish democratic governments. He emphasized that in
addition to damage to personal lives, harm
had been done to the social structures
themselves-to the norms, values, and principles by which people are educated, and to
the institutions that govern the lives of citizens. "Social trauma affects individuals precisely in their social character; that is, as
a totality, as a system" (Martin-Baro, 1994,
p.124).
Martin-Baro's formulation of liberation
psychology draws on Latin American liberation theology and pedagogy (Freire, 1970,
1973; Gutierrez, 1973/1988) and includes
(1) a focus on the liberation of a whole people (Le., the collectivity), as well as personal
liberation; (2) a new epistemology wherein

Human Rights Violations as Structural Violence

the truth of the popular majority is not to
be found, but created, that is, wherein truth
is constructed "from below"; and (3) a new
praxis, wherein we place ourselves within
the research-action process alongside the
dominated or oppressed rather than alongside the dominator or oppressor (MartinBara, 1994). He argued that taking sides is
not bias but rather an ethical choice,
grounded in the truths of reason and compassion. As is evident in his description, liberation psychology is clearly political in that
it seeks to change power relations.
Martin-Bara's psychology of liberation
is not totally new within Western psychology
and psychiatry. It echoes earlier work by
Franz Fanon (1967; see Dawes, this volume,
for a fuller description of Fanon's liberation
psychology/psychiatry). Mrican American
or Black psychology draws heavily on the
works of Black liberation theology and/
or Africanist traditions and is also echoed
in Martin-Bara's work. Thomas Gordon
(1973) compared "White and Black psychology," raising ethical and political concerns,
conceptual limitations, and methodological
weaknesses within White, i.e., Euro-American psychology. Gordon challenged Black
psychology to give priority consideration to,
among other things, developing research
that proceeds "from real life needs rather
than from theoretical imperatives" (p. 94).
He urged the development of collaborative
relations with Black communities and suggested that psychologists would need new
research competencies and roles, including
those of advocates, lobbyists, information
resource persons, and watchdogs that "facilitate the advancement of our collective
interests" (p. 94). An important point of
agreement among the liberation psychologies of Fanon and Martin-Bara and Black
psychology is the shift of psychologists' attention to the systemic or structural dimensions of the identified problem or concern,

161

rather than its more typical focal point, the
individual person abstracted from a multilayered social, historical, and cultural context.
Within this alternative framework,
trauma is not primarily or exclusively an intrapsychic phenomenon, but rather is conceived of as a psycho-social event. Psychosocial trauma reflects a dialectic process, that
is, it "resides in the social relations of which
the individual is only a part" (Martin-Bara,
1994, p. 124). Martin-Bara suggested further that "psychosocial trauma can be a normal consequence of a social system based
on social relations of exploitation and dehumanizing oppression" such as those in
wartime El Salvador (p. 125). Trauma becomes a usual event, not an aberration. In
the context of war, trauma is an everyday
part of life. During conditions of peace, the
slaughter of individuals, the disappearance
of loved ones, the inability to distinguish
what is one's experience from what others
say it is (and, when one does, the fear to
speak one's point of view), the militarization of institutions, and the extreme polarization of social life are seen as abnormal.
But in wartime EI Salvador, for example,
people came to accept these experiences as
normal. Martin-Bara offers liberation psychology as one response for psychologists
who seek to accompany local populations in
responding to and redressing these extreme
violations and their effects.

Constructivist and Cultural
Interpretations: Symbolic Aspects
of Terror
Psychologists who have documented the effects of extreme trauma and torture in war,
have typically focused on the events of direct violence and their immediate consequences for the individual. More specifically, those working with survivors of war

162

Structural Violence

have termed the constellation of symptoms
ARGENTINA AND GUATEMALA:
suffered by many sUIVivors as Post TrauSTRUCTURAL VIOLENCE AS HUMAN
matic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and develRIGHTS VIOLATIONS
oped wide-ranging treatment and intervenHuman rights activists and social scientists
tion strategies (Herman, 1992). In contrast,
who have worked with survivors of statesocial constructivists argue that the meansponsored violence and war in Argentina
ings we make of a phenomenon are not adand Guatemala argue that horrific violaequately represented by this labeling of
tions of individual human rights in Arsymptoms (Aron, Corne, Fursland, & Zewgentina (Suarez-Orozco, 1992) and Guateler, 1991). Rather, meanings are co-conmala (CEH, 1999; ODHAG, 1998; Schirmer,
structed by those who experience them in
1998) can be traced, in part, to the worldrelationships in a particular socio-historical
views of the Latin American elite who contime, culture, and place (Agger, 1994; Gertrolled these countries. Institutionalization
gen, 1994, 1997) . Dialogue and engageof political and economic structural vioment are critical strategies for constructing
lence sustained those views. More specifiknowledge and understanding which are incally, the military juntas that perpetrated
herently value-laden, rather than value-neuhuman rights abuses were supported by
tral. This point of view is part of a post-modwealthy landowners and a Roman Catholic
ern emphasis on inquiry and action
hierarchy in Argentina from 1976 to 1983
(Reason & Rowan, 1981) and calls our atand in Guatemala from 1954 to 1986. These
tention to the multiple meanings that are
military units developed counter-insurgent
made of war and human rights violations by
strategies against civilian populations and
survivors. This meaning-making process is
justified them in the name of preserving na~est understood through the thick descriptional identity and internal state security
nons of events constructed by the survivors
(CEH, 1999; Nunca Mas, 1986; ODHAG,
in dialogue and! or interaction with those
1998). A brief discussion of life within each
who accompany them (Lykes, 1996).
of these countries during the most intense
Anthropologists and cultural psycholoperiods of political repression suggests that
gists who have explored the meanings of
the broader human rights of all citizens
human rights violations and their effects
were consistently violated and that this
have suggested that in addition to the effect
structural violence was justified in the name
of terror on the immediate consequences
of protecting the civil-political rights of a
for individuals, terror has symbolic effects
small elite.
on entire communities and across generations (Danieli, 1998). I have argued previThe "Dirty War": 1976 to 1983
ously (Lykes, 1996) that terror not only destroys the present but forces a rethinking of
In Argentina as many as 30,000 people, over
the past and deeply threatens the future
80 percent of whom were between the ages
through its destructive effects on the next
of 16 and 35, were detained. tortured, and
·
3 (Nunca Mas [Never Again],
dIsappeared
generation's capacity to culturally affirm itself. My field work in Guatemala, as well as
the work of others in Argentina, further
clarifies the implications of seeing extendet!e tenn disappeared (desaparecido) refers to the
human rights violations as structural JJr;;.cess devel?ped wi~lin Latin America during twenti·
lence.
-century dictat?rshlps whereby indi~?uals were kidnapped by secunty forces or paraImhtary organiza-

Human Rights Violations as Structural Violence

1986) between 1976 and 1983. The military
presented itself as defenders of tradition,
family, and property; criticism of them
through word or deed was deemed nonpatriotic, subversive behavior that should be
crushed to protect the nation (Frontalini &
Caiati, 1984). Those who challenged dominant definitions of nationhood, often by
simply seeking to feed, clothe, or house the
poor (that is, the mcyority of Argentineans),
were defined as "subversive" and accused of
threatening to destabilize national security;
they were tortured, murdered, and/or disappeared. Although several guerrilla groups
disrupted social life through kidnappings
and bombings during the late 1960s
and early 1970s, extensive documentation
including the government's own report
(Nunca Mas, 1986) demonstrate definitely
that these groups were quashed long before
the disappearances began. General Videla,
one of the dictators at this time, claimed
that the repression was directed against a
minority that was not even Argentinean. He
thereby justified violations of the human
rights of his victims by defining them outside of the realm of citizenry (Frontalini &
Caiati, 1984) all the while maintaining the
rhetoric of rights when talking to the "good
citizenry." Doing so represents a good example of exclusionary justice (see Opotow.
this volume) .
The military also removed children of
those considered subversives, subsequently
gifting them to "good" families, that is,
those of the military and upper class
(Suarez-Orozco, 1987; also see Puenzo,
1985, The Official Story, for a film version).
General Camps, head of the police of the
tions. They were often tortured and then brutally murdered and the bodies tossed into the seas or othetwise
disposed of. However. because the bodies did not
reappear. family members. friends. and colleagues did
not know if they were alive or dead (Nunca Mas. 1986:

Om-IAG.1998).

163
province of Buenos Aires when numbers of
children were kidnapped,justified this practice: "... Personally, I did not eliminate any
children. What I did was to give some of
them to beneficent organizations so that
they would find new parents for them. Subversives educate their children into subversion. That has to be stopped" (cited in
Barki, 1988, p. 241; see Arditti & Lykes,
1992; Arditti, 1999, for a fuller discussion of
these points).
Such violations of human rights are direct acts of violence in that they are episodic
and are perpetrated against individuals (see
Wagner, this volume). However, if we situate the individuals affected within the historical, socio-political context described
briefly above, the violations are reconfigured. They were not only acts against individuals, but embedded in and sustained by
the linguistic and political systems of the
state. National leaders used everyday language like rhetoric of rights to subvert their
declared objectives and arrest the people
they claimed to protect. (Graziano, 1992;
Feitlowitz, 1998). As such, they not only deprived many of their civil-political rights but
terrorized into silence the vast majority of
the Argentinean population for nearly six
years (Simpson & Bennett, 1985).
In Argentina, the Grandmothers of the
Plaza de Mayo, one of a small number of
human rights organizations that did protest
the violations described here, sought to recover their kidnapped grandchildren and to
tell them the stories of their families of
origin. Local psychologists accompanying
them supported these efforts. However,
Franc;ois Dalto, a renowned French child
psychiatrist, upon learning of the work of
the Grandmothers, argued that they were
provoking a second trauma in these children by taking them from the families that
they had known, into which some had been
adopted at infancy. In contrast, psycholo-

164

gists in Argentina working from the liberationist perspective described above, urged
authorities to consider the meaning for
these children of being raised by the murderers of their biological parents. These psychologists argued for the children's rights
to know their identities, that is, the stories
of their birth parents and the history of Argentina for which their birth parents fought
and/ or were murdered (Farina & Lykes,
1991). Such stories would only be shared if
the Grandmothers succeeded. The Grandmothers of the Plaza de Mayo thus asserted
a child's right to his or her identity within
the Declaration on the Rights of the Child,
and hoped to use Argentina's signing of the
Declaration to support its work for the recovery of these abducted children (see
Arditti & Lykes, 1992; Arditti, 1999).
Although these issues are very complex,
the example suggests that a broadened understanding of the stmctural contexts in
which abuses are embedded resituates the
description of "the problem" from one focused on the rights of solitary individuals to
one which engages consideration of the
broader society and cultural context. Ironically, shortly before her death, Dalto, who
had accepted an invitation of the Grandmothers to visit them and see their work,
changed her position and supported their
ongoing efforts to reconnect their grandchildren with their collective identity (Arditti, 1999; Fariiia & Lykes, 1991).

Mayan Indigenous Rights
in Guatemala
The case of Guatemala further exemplifies
the importance of collective rights. Both the
Archdiocesan-sponsored report on violations of human rights (ODHAG, 1998) and
the official U.N.-sponsored report of the
Commission for Historical Clarification
(CEH, 1999) have documented thousands

Structural Violence

of violations of human rights, including the
murder of more than 100,000 people, the
displacement of more than 1 million people
at the peak of this violence, the disappearance of more than 60,000 people, and the
destruction of hundreds of rural villages
over the 36-year period of the war. In addition, between 100,000 and 250,000 Guatemalan children lost one or both parents between 1981 and 1984, the peak of the
government's "scorched earth" policy (see
Melville & Lykes, 1992 and Lykes, 1994 for a
more extensive discussion of these violations).
Although the violence affected rural
and urban populations throughout the
country, the weight of its impact was experienced by indigenous groups living within
rural communities of the Guatemalan Highlands (Americas Watch Committee, 1984;
Amnesty International, 1987). These groups
have historically been discriminated against
and marginalized from power, resources,
and decision-making within Guatemala; the
gross violations of this 36-year war are the
most recent manifestation of such violence
(see, e.g., Amnesty International, 1992; Carmack, 1988).
Michael Richards (1985) interviewed a
group of Guatemalan military officers in
1983 and 1984 who were stationed in the lxil
triangle, a remote area within the Guatemalan countryside (Carmack, 1988; Stoll,
1993). Richards quotes officers and soldiers
describing the Maya in subhuman categories,
such as "lacking reasoning capacity," "lost,"
"not able to progress," and having "closed
thinking" (1985, p. 101). Military personnel
that he interviewed concluded that the Maya
had been duped by the guerrillas. By labeling
these indigenous peasants subhuman, military personnel legitimated their mass murder, extensive enough to become a "partial
extermination" of the mral indigenous peoples (Falla, 1984).

Human Rights Violations as Structural Violence
Mter the massive destruction described
above, the Guatemalan military's counterinsurgent strategy (ODHAG, 1998; Richards,
1985) shifted to a "guns and beans" program. Survivors of the extermination plan
were organized into strategic villages and
provided food. The movement of nearly
60,000 people (approximately 12.5 percent
of the Highland population, ODHAG,
1998) was controlled in these villages, where
they also experienced indoctrination programs that sought to legitimate the army's
repressive techniques and convert the civilian population to their side. Analyses of military documents and testimonies gathered
by peasants forced into these hamlets confirm the racism implicit in the military's beliefs about the Maya described by Richards
(ODHAG,1998).
To control the rural population through
direct and indirect militarization, the army
organized men between 18 and 60 years old
into the country's civilian defense patrol in
the final days of 1981 (America's Watch
Committee, 1990; Jay, 1993; ODHAG,
1998). Although alleged to be voluntary,
failure to perform weekly duties, which included military and intelligence tasks of the
army, had potential deadly consequences
for rural boys and men. ODHAG (1998) estimates that by 1982 to 1983 more than
900,000 men were organized in the civilian
defense patrols comprising approximately
"80 percent of the male populations in rural
indigenous zones" at the time. SuarezOrozco (1990) described the Guatemalan
situation as a "culture of terror (Taussig,
1986/1987), with its own vocabulary of sorrow (desaparecidos [disappeared]; torturados
[torture victims]; huiifanos [orphans]) and
underlying structure [that] managed consensus through violence and intimidation"
(p. 361). An America's Watch Report added
that Guatemala in the first half of the 1980s
was a country where "political terror has

165
firmly established itself as the principal
means of governance" (Brown, 1985, cited
in Suarez-Orozco, 1990, p. 361). In the
cases of both Argentina and Guatemala the
protection of the civil-political rights of an
elite citizenry were invoked to legitimate the
killing of others, defined as threats to the security of the nation and/or as non-citizens
or, in the case of Guatemala, non-humans.
Worse, these clearly repressive policies were
legitimated and presented as humanitarian
using a rhetoric of human rights manipulated by the state.
Amnesty International (1992), among
others, has characterized violations of
human rights within Guatemala as abuses of
Mayan civil and political rights. But I argue
here that these direct acts of violence were
rooted in ideologies which denied the Maya
their humanity. Rhetoric which institutionalized and normalized violence made possible
these gross violations of human rights, that as
such, illustrate structural violence. The massacres had an impact beyond the sum total of
the individuals whose rights were violated.
The Maya as a people were violated, in their
character as a collectivity. Violence against
collective identity also occurs when the environment of traditional peoples is destroyed,
because their very identity is rooted in the
land, as evidenced in the Maya's self-naming
as "people of com" (Lykes, 1996; see also
Winter, 1998).
Messer (1995) has argued that Guatemala ~'seems to illustrate most vividly the synergisms of political violence, socioeconomic
marginalization, and cultural discrimination" (p. 56). The assertion of indigenous
rights and the pressure to establish the Draft
Declaration as part of the U.N. covenants are
important strategies that, if successful, could
offer critical protections to the beliefs and social organizations of indigenous people, as
well as safeguarding the lands which define
who they are.

166

PEACEBUILDING WITH EXTENDED
HUMAN RIGHTS
Peace negotiations culminating in accords
signed between the Guatemalan government and Guatemalan National Revolutionary Unity (URNG/guemlla forces) on December 29, 1996 "ended" more than 36
years of war in Guatemala. The 13 documents that make up the accords confirmed
in December, 1996, include agreements on
human rights, identity and indigenous
rights, procedures for resettling and protecting those uprooted by the armed conflict, socioeconomic and political reforms,
and the establishment of a commission to
"clarify with objectivity, equity and impartiality, the past human rights violations and
acts of violence connected with the armed
confrontation that have caused suffering
among the Guatemalan people (CEH,.
1999). Each accord reflects important negotiations between the former opposition
groups, and taken as a whole, they seek to
create the conditions necessary for a more
democratic political order within Guatemala. The accords have afforded new spaces
in which survivors can voice their versions of
the horrific violence they experienced, including massacres, military occupation, internal displacement, extreme poverty, and
exile to religious and human rights-based
commissions established to take these testimonies.
Others, such as women of the Association of Maya Ixil Women-Ak' saqb' eb'al
[New Dawn] in Ch,yul, Guatemala, seek
more local strategies for telling their stories,
hoping to do so within the context of ongoing community programs that will not
only heal the psychological wounds from
36 years of war and state-sponsored repression but also establish new social sttuctures
to improve their lives and the lives of their
children. Within this rural context where I

Structural Violence

have worked for eight years, I have been
challenged by local women not only to
contribute to clarifying contemporary, culturally situated meanings of human rights
violations, but to join them in implementing strategies that transform their material
and social realities, including extreme
poverty and psychosocial trauma. The association's current activities are running a
corn mill and community store; conducting an afterschool program in language acquisition and psychosocial assistance for
local children ages six to twelve; administering a revolving loan fund in the association; developing a local library; and developing a participatory action research
project using photographic and interview techniques. These projects emerged
through cross-cultural and transnational
interethnic organizing and leadership (see
Lykes et al., 1999).
As rural indigenous women, their efforts to redress social injustice and marginalization are embedded in creative workshops that respond directly to their
psychosocial trauma, and those of their children (Lykes, 1994). They have also developed a project that combines photography
and interview techniques (Wang & Bums,
1994) which actively assists the co-consttuction of meanings about their experiences of
violence and the roots of their oppression.
This work includes the development of action plans for change in the local community while facilitating increased control over
representations about local community life
among the Ixil, thereby enhancing their
sense of agency. These women are creating
opportunities for sharing among themselves
and in ever-widening circles of Maya women, rupturing years of silence, and developing skills and resources to confront some
of the individual and collective effects of
war, terror, and violence. This work also
transforms traditional gender roles within

Human Rights Violations as Structural Violence
the community. It exemplifies psychological
work that creates experiences of material,
social, and psychological healing and reparation.
The four generations of human rights
described at the outset of this chapter are
affirmed by this work of the Association of
Maya Ixil Women-Ak' saqb' eb'al [New
Dawnl. Narrating their stories of the multiple violations of their civil, political, economic, and cultural rights through storytelling, dramatization, and photography,
these women heal themselves, their children, and their community. This work constitutes a new praxis, focusing on their actions and their critical reflections upon
these actions, which promotes healing, enhances their self~steem, and rebuilds and
transforms Mayan community. These Ixil
women are reclaiming the past while creating community-based economic and educational programs in the present As an "outsider" psychologist, I am privileged to
"stand-under" these experiences, accompany these women as they cross cultural, educational, ethnic, linguistic, and geographic
borders to envision new understandings of
violence and its wake.
There are many other examples of concrete experiences among indigenous peoples that challenge us to explore more
carefully the intersection of the four generations of human rights and what it means to
harmonize them in theory and through
practice. The rights to economic development and a safe environment are clearly evident in the community-based work described which assumes the worldviews of

167
indigenous commumttes. Future work by
psychologists in these contexts could fruitfully explore indigenous and collective
rights and how they might inform the
reparatory processes that follow peace accords at the end of overt conflict (see Winter, 1998, for a further discussion of the environment and war's effects).
Although the perspectives and experiences presented here offer no easy solutions
to violations of human rights described in
this chapter, they do sketch promising psychological theories and practices that have
contributed alongside an expanded understanding of human rights to clarify how they
constitute structural violence. I have argued
that a developing liberation psychology, cultural and constructivist perspectives, and
praxis with local communities shifts the object of psychological reflection to a social
and community level. Recognizing and responding to the abuse of these rights as
structural violence is critical if psychologists
want to contribute to peacebuilding among
the majority of the world's peoples. I am not
recommending deserting the important
work of defending civil-political rights and
protesting their violation. Rather, I have
drawn on psychological theory and my own
field practice to argue a broader understanding of rights violations as structural violence. My hope is that this analysis will promote work which would improve the social,
psychological, and material well-being in
communities throughout the world, particularly in zones of ongoing or recent armed
conflict.

SECTION III

PEACEMAKING
Introduction by
Richard V. Wagner

In the second half of this volume, we present a series of chapters dealing with ways of responding to violent conflict, real or threatened. We have distinguished between direct and structural violence, the former being episodic and direct from aggressor to target, the latter being
indirect and embedded in the social, political, and economic fabric of society. We also distinguish between two m,gor forms of response: peacemaking and peacebuilding. Peacemaking, the
focus of this section, refers to various means of handling direct, episodic violence. PeacebuiIding, the focus of the fourth and final section of the book, refers to ways of handling structural
violence.
There is a third type of response to violence-peacekeeping-which we consider in one
chapter in this section. Both peacemaking and peacekeeping refer to procedures that reduce
the likelihood that people will engage in violent actions. In peacemaking, however, we try to
establish mechanisms that preclude the need for future violence between parties, at least with
respect to the particular issues in dispute. Such is the case when a mediator, for example,
helps battling parties reach an agreement allowing each to attain an acceptable goal. The next
time a dispute arises, they may have learned not to repeat the process of battling to satisfy
their respective interests. Of course if they have not, then peacemaking will be necessary
again. In peacekeeping, on the other hand, the effort is confined to preventing the parties
from engaging in continuing violence, essentially by containing them, keeping them from
coming together violently. Peacekeeping can have constructive long-term results: keeping parties apart may give them time to consider the advantages of alternate, nonviolent ways of handling their conflict. But, often the antagonism remains: with the destructive activity suppressed, the pressure to find solutions is removed, leaving the antagonisms in place. Such has
been the case in Cyprus: a U.N. peacekeeping force has provided a buffer between Greek and
Turk Cypriots since 1964. Neither side has taken the opportunity to find ways of peaceful
coexistence, so the peacekeepers must remain to prevent future violence between the
adversaries.

169

170

Peacemaking

POSITIVE AND NEGATIVE APPROACHES
Peacekeeping as a response to episodic violence has sometimes been referred to as a negative
approach to peace: only the peacekeeper's presence prevents the violence from recurring.
Peacemaking is a more positive approach: building mechanisms that lead people to cooperate
in positive, peaceful interaction (Kimmel, 1985). The difference is important because of its
implications for peace, be it peace in the family, in the neighborhood, or in the world community (Wagner, 1988). The negative goal, peacekeeping, is essentially reactive and limited by
the necessity to operate in a context defined by the adversaries. The ways of keeping peace are
few and concrete (PIous, 1988): keeping the parties apart and if possible, disarming them, figuratively or literally. The positive technique of peacemaking, on the other hand, is not so limited and can be innovative. A mediator as peacemaker may help a couple battling over custody
of their children to recognize that as permanent co-parents, they share a concern for their
children's welfare. The mediator, then, is in a position to work with the couple to create a cooperative agreement that maximizes the children's access to both parents, rather than constantly worrying about how to keep the battlers from sabotaging each other's contact with the
children.

CONFLICT RESOLUTION, MANAGEMENT, AND TRANSFORMATION
Conflict resolution, a theme that pervades much of the theory and practice of peacemaking,
should be distinguished from conflict management and conflict transformation, terms used in
several chapters. Sanson and Bretherton define conflict resolution as a process that "provides
techniques to deal with disputes in a manner which is nonviolent, avoids dominance or oppression by one party over the other, and, rather than exploiting one party, aims to meet the
human needs of all" (this volume, p. 193). Conflict management may refer to more economic, negotiated procedures for handling disagreement and is sometimes used in the sense
of peacekeeping, that is, containing the overt display of conflict without the parties actually
ever reaching agreement. Conflict transformation, which appears in several chapters, generally refers to a process of guiding the disputants to a new vision and understanding of the conflict, one in which they not only attain their goals but develop a new, constructive relationship
with one another, boding well for the peaceful resolution of future disagreements. Conflict
transformation is a basic aspect of the process of peace building. Nevertheless, at times in this
section on peacemaking, we will find authors referring to conflict transformation in recognition of the fact that peacemaking often provides only temporary relief from hostilities. Many
of them present a vision for the twenty-first century in which contlict is transformed and parties no longer see one another as obstacles to their own goal attainment but rather as partners
in the effort to provide a sustainable existence for all.

CULTURE
It is noteworthy that almost every chapter in this section contains an explicit discussion of the
cultural relativity of peacemaking techniques. Cultural differences can be seen, for example,
on the grand scale comparing Western and non-Western approaches to peacemaking (Pedersen, this volume; Wall & Callister, 1995). They can be seen regionally, for example, within Eu-

Peacemaking

171

rope (Shapiro, 1999) or within Latin America (Comas-Diaz, Lykes, & Alarc6n,1998; Lykes, this
volume). They can be seen within a single society, such as the different ethnic responses to
conflict in Bosnia (Agger, this volume) or the differences in the laws governing violence in
the ex-slave states and other southern and western states in the United States (Cohen, 1996).
The discussion of culture and peacemaking in this section is rich and varied. Pedersen,
for example, presents an extensive discussion of how Western and non-Western peacemaking
differs on certain critical dimensions and how these differences can affect the resolution of
conflict between people from diverse backgrounds. Sanson and Bretherton agree and note
that the conflict resolution processes they describe are predominantly Western. But rather
than seeing the cultural difference as restricting peacemaking efforts, they argue that the differences should become an integral part of the resolution process, informing the parties
about alternate ways of reaching agreement. Coleman and Deutsch, in their proposal for introducing conflict resolution procedures into schools, come to a similar conclusion. Theyacknowledge that theirs is a Western, male model and recommend that we explore how universal such techniques are and frame our proposals accordingly. Wessells and Monteiro note that
Western methods pervade many international efforts to handle conflict, often undermining
effective indigenous ways of responding to violent conditions. Similarly, Agger describes the
deep ethnic divisions in Bosnia and how inappropriate traditional Western therapeutic procedures have been in the treatment of trauma caused by the war in that nation. All of these authors, then, emphasize that peacemakers should be sensitive to cultural differences in handling conflict. Only in the context of such an understanding can they be truly effective in
preventing violence and promoting the peaceful resolution of conflict.

ORGANIZATION OF THE SECTION
The chapters in this section on peacemaking can be divided into three groups: peacekeeping,
conflict resolution, and post-war reconstruction. Harvey Langholtz and Peter Leentjes' chapter on U.N. peacekeeping describes the traditional peacekeeping role of the United Nations,
i.e., serving as a buffer between warring entities, sometimes between nation states (Egypt and
lsrael in the Gaza region) and sometimes within states (Greek and Turk Cypriots). However,
they continue with a discussion of the additional agendas that have emerged in the past
decade, agendas that sound much more like peacemaking: taking an active role in efforts to
implement agreements and settlements.
More specific proposals for peacemaking appear in the succeeding four chapters, all of
which consider means of resolving conflict constructively. Paul Pedersen's analysis of the cultural context of peacemaking provides a valuable framework for evaluating the generalizability of processes described in succeeding chapters. Pedersen focuses on important differences
between Western and non-Western approaches to conflict and its resolution and suggests
some non-Western procedures that might be appropriately applied in Western peacemaking.
In the next chapter, Ann Sanson and Di Bretherton provide an excellent, detailed overview of
principles and processes of conflict resolution as they have evolved in the Western world. The
juxtaposition of the Pedersen and Sanson and Bretherton chapters allows for an interesting
comparison of procedures used in vastly different cultural settings.
Johan Galtung and Finn Tschudi's chapter on the "transcend" approach to conflict proposes certain strategies for improving quarreling parties' communication, thereby increasing

172

Peacemaking

the chances that they will be able to resolve their conflict constructively. While much of their
discussion deals with the conscious, cognitive processes involved in dialogue between combatants, they remind us that emotive and subconscious processes can strongly affect the outcome
of efforts to reach a satisfactory, nonviolent resolution of conflict.
Recently, Nelson, Van Slyck, and Cardella (1999) concluded from their review of a variety
of school programs that "peace education curricula ... have a potentially significant role to
play in the development of peaceful people" (p. 170). In their chapter, Peter Coleman and
Morton Deutsch provide a model for introducing such programs into schools. They argue
that, for the greatest success, programs must be implemented at five different levels of the educational system: the student disciplinary process, the curriculum, pedagogy, the school culture, and the community. They provide excellent illustrations of how such programs can be
realized.
The final three chapters in this section consider how peace psychologists can contribute
to reconciliation and reconstruction in the aftermath of violent conflict. Inger Agger describes many of the difficulties confronting the well-meaning psychologist in her captivating
chapter on reducing trauma under war conditions in Bosnia. Cheryl de la Rey calls on her experience and understanding of reconciliation, describing the work of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Mrica. Both authors highlight the importance of relationships in
the process of reconciliation. Agger describes the seemingly irreversible loss of trust among
members of different ethnic groups in Bosnia and de la Rey argues that re-establishing relationships must be at the core of any successful attempt to further reconciliation in a society
that has endured protracted violent conflict.
Michael Wessells and Carlinda Monteiro echo many of the points made by Agger and de
la Rey. They discuss the value of integrating Western and traditional psychosocial interventions to heal the deep wounds caused by over three decades of war in Angola. The task is
daunting, given the competing demands of rival militia factions and of citizens traumatized
and impoverished by endless bloodshed. Wessells and Monteiro describe a number of reconstruction programs and ultimately focus on the task of reintegrating child soldiers, who have
been socialized into a system of violence. Reestablishing relationships is the crux of attempts
to reconstruct a society devastated by war.
To summarize, Section III covers a variety of methods for peacemaking and delineates
many of the difficulties that the peace psychologist will confront in attempting to help people
resolve their conflicts and rebuild relationships. We reiterate our caveat that the principles described should not be applied without giving due consideration to limits in their applicability
in different cultures and at different levels of analysis. When successful, peacemaking can set
the stage for the more arduous but essential task of building a peaceful society in which the
structural institutions are designed to promote human welfare, the theme that will be considered in the fourth and final section of this volume.

CHAPTER 15

U.N. PEACEKEEPING: CONFRONTING THE
PSYCHOLOGICAL ENVIRONMENT OF WAR
IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY
Harvey J. Langholtz and Peter Leentjes

United Nations peacekeeping evolved following the founding of the United Nations
in 1945. Throughout the Cold War, U.N.
peacekeeping developed as a series of ad
hoc responses to individual. crises, although
the superpowers were always careful to constrain U.N. peacekeeping operations to a
limited set of actions to be undertaken only
under certain specified conditions. It was
not the purview of these peacekeepers to
use force themselves or to participate in the
conflict. The end of the Cold War brought a
period where the superpowers and the
world community were willing to see the
United Nations attempt more complex and
ambitious peacekeeping missions under
more difficult conditions and in environments of war and chaos. These more difficult conditions called for a different set of
psychological approaches, which included
armed peacekeepers using threats, coercion, or force, and sometimes engaging in
the fighting.
The attempts by the United Nations to
intervene in these demanding environments met with a mixture of success and
failure. Soldiers of all nations are trained to

prevail in combat over a clearly defined foe
and the traditional soldier's psychology is
one of force and intimidation. Soldiers serving on traditional U.N. peacekeeping operations are called upon to use a different set
of psychological approaches. Instead of
using force to achieve their ends, they use
the tools of persuasion and trust to limit
fighting between the annies engaged in the
conflict. Howevu, recent conflicts have
been characterized more often by a complicated mixture of paramilitaries, ethno-political rivalries, humanitarian emergencies,
and civilian refugees, than by two clearly defined annies sent to war by sovereign leaders. These complex emergencies present a
different psychological environment from
earlier conflicts and call for different fonns
of peacekeeping.
In this chapter, we will trace the development of peacekeeping from the founding
of the United Nations to the end of the
Cold War, and we will discuss how the close
of the Cold War ushered in an era where
new approaches to peacekeeping might be
undertaken. We will review some of the
structural components that contributed to

173

174
the success or failure of these recent missions, and we will suggest the direction U.N.
peacekeeping may take during the early
part of the twenty-first century.

THE ORIGINS AND EVOLUTION
OF U.N. PEACEKEEPING
The Origins of the United Nations
The United Nations was founded during
the closing days of World War II, and it was
the goal of the United Nations to prevent a
reoccurrence of wars of the scale and scope
of the two World Wars. The Charter of the
United Nations, which came into force on
October 24, 1945, proposed
To save succeeding generations from the
scourge of war which twice in our lifetime
has brought untold sorrow to mankind, and
to reaffirm faith in fundamental human
rights, in the dignity and worth of the
human person, in the equal rights of men
and women and of nations large and small,
and ... to promote social progress and ...
to ensure that armed force shall not be
used, save in the common interest. (United
Nations, 1945,pp. 1-2)
However, peacekeeping was never mentioned in the U.N. Charter, but came to be
defined through evolution; rather than deliberate planning. United Nations peacekeeping falls somewhere between the pacific settlement of disputes as proposed in
Chapter VI of the U.N. Charter, and joint
military actions discussed in Chapter VII.
The accepted practices of U.N. peacekeeping are known as the unwritten "Chapter six
and a half' and are based on the concept of
impartial soldiers from neutral nations applying the techniques of conflict resolution
to contain and limit violence.

Peacemaking

Superpower Limitations and the
Evolution of Traditional Peacekeeping
Throughout the Cold War, the two superpowers were reluctant to see the United
Nations assume too strong a role in international affairs. Ifa proposed U.N. peacekeeping mission offered any possible strategic
advantage to either the United States or the
Soviet Union, the other would veto the resolution in the U.N. Security Council. During
these years, therefore, peacekeeping was
constrained to a limited range of activities
(United Nations, 1990) that would not raise
the superpowers' objections. The United
Nations would only deploy peacekeepers
with the consent of the warring nations,
when a cease-fire was in place and the
armies disengaged. United Nations peacekeeping was to be a temporary measure to
maintain a cease-fire while diplomats sought
more pennanent solutions to fundamentally
political problems (Mackinlay & Chopra,
1993). Between 1948 and 1988, the United
Nations established only 13 peacekeeping or
observer forces (Roberts, 1996), despite
more than 80 wars that were fought between
nations (and not including the smaller intrastate conflicts) with a toll of 30 million
deaths (James, 1990).

The Close of the Cold War and a New
Willingness: An Agenda for Peace
With the close of the Cold War and the
breakup of the Soviet Union, the political differences that had served to constrain U.N.
peacekeeping for over 40 years vanished. In
1992, world leaders gathered at the United
Nations for a Security Council Summit and
called upon U.N. Secretary General Dr.
Boutros Boutros-Ghali, to draft a paper proposing his view of the emerging role the
United Nations should play in peacekeeping
and international security.

U.N. Peacekeeping

In An Agenda for Peace, Boutros-Ghali
(1992) proposed that the United Nations
and the international community should not
simply wait for the outbreak of violence before taking action, but instead should undertake both preventive measures early to avert
war, and remedial steps following a cease-fire
to hasten a return to a durable peace. He
called for a greater willingness to address the
basic economic, social, political, and ethnic
causes of conflict. An Agenda for Peace also
called for a greater readiness for the international community to support the United Nations in the use of force when necessary to
end violence by imposing peace on behalf of
a civilian population in the face of war.

THE 1990s AND A NEW PEACE
OPERATIONS ENVIRONMENT
Following An Agenda for Peace, a wider scope
of U.N. peacekeeping missions were undertaken in the absence of an agreed-upon
cease-fire, when the conflicts were intranational, not international, and without the
consent of the parties to the conflict. Several general types of operations emerged.
1. Traditional Peacekeeping Operations, functioning as they did throughout the Cold
War. Unarmed or lighdy armed peacekeepers would be deployed with the
consent of the parties to the dispute to
monitor an agreed-upon cease-fire.

2. Implementation of Complex Agreements and
Settlements, the U.N. force supervising or
monitoring agreements which include
not just military, but also extensive civilian components.
3. Preventive Deployment, the positioning of
armed peacekeepers, without the consent of one or both nations involved, to
serve as a preventive military barrier
and discourage cross-border aggression.

175

4. Observing a Non-U.N. Peacekeeping Force, a
way for the United Nations to assist a regional organization or other local force
to maintain peace. This is a way for the
United Nations to decentralize the maintenance of peace and security while ensuring the legitimacy and international
standards of the peacekeeping force.
S. Providing Humanitarian Aid, where soldiers are deployed to provide security
and transportation for aid workers, and
to escort refugees to safety.

6. Peace Enforcement, the use of military
force to impose the will of the international community on violators of the
peace.

Changing Precepts of Peacekeeping
These newer, more assertive peace interventions require a new set of precepts from
those that were operative for traditional
peacekeeping.
First, the original requirement that
peacekeepers would only be deployed with
the consent of the participants to the conflict, is no longer observed. Experience has
shown that consent may be a fundamental
condition for the eventual success of a
peacekeeping mission but it may be possible
for the presence of peacekeepers to bring
about an induced consent, which can lead to
peace.
Second, today there is a willingness to
abridge the precept of sovereignty, especially when internal conditions have deteriorated catastrophically.
Third, impartiality remains an importan t precept of modem peacekeeping, especially where an agreement has been signed
by the parties in conflict.
Fourth, peacekeeping may now include
early measures to avert escalation into a violent conflict, steps to contain a conflict geographically once it begins, and measures to

178
hasten a reconciliation and a return to a stable peace.
Fifth, there may be time constraints and
limits on the resources, political effort, and
military sacrifice the United Nations and
the international community will be willing
to expend on a conflict.
Sixth, peacekeeping may now require a
willingness to take military action.

Some Successes and Some Failures:
Is It Better to Have Tried?
As the United Nations has attempted to intelVene in increasingly chaotic and demanding environments there has been a mixture
of both success and failure. The U.N. mission in Haiti reintroduced free elections
and legitimate self-governance to the nation
and helped with the reestablishment of
Haiti's own police force and law-enforcement institutions. The U.N. missions in
Mozambique succeeded in holding democratic elections and the U.N. intelVentions in
Cambodia helped bring factions together,
ending armed conflict. Only time will tell if
these successes prove to be the initial steps
to durable solutions or if they will subsequently be viewed as well-intended efforts
that collapsed shortly after the peacekeepers left.
There have also been some well-publicized failures. The U.N. peace force in Yugoslavia could not prevent atrocities from
occurring even in so-called safe havens. The
U.N. peacekeeping force in Cyprus, originally intended to be a temporary measure,
continues after more than three decades
(United Nations, 1996). The U.N. force in
Somalia was able to provide humanitarian
aid to famine-tom regions but in Mogadishu was capable of doing little more
than guarding itself.
These new and messy conflicts brought
enormous challenges to the United Nations

Peacemaking

and the international community, and the
struggle to come to grips with these chaotic
situations was tentative. Would it have been
better to sit by and wait for these conflicts to
take a form that would suit traditional
peacekeeping, or was it better to attempt
constructive intelVentions? The United Nations, and the nations that contributed
troops to these missions, paid a high price,
both in terms of casualties to peacekeeping
personnel, damage to the reputation of the
United Nations, and the amount of support
a skeptical public was willing to provide.
This dilemma is likely to be among the
most fundamental questions to face the institution of peacekeeping during the first
part of the twenty-first century. There may
be little point in the United Nations insisting that a conflict conform to a rigid set of
prerequisites before a peacekeeping mission is attempted. In the next section, we
will discuss lessons the United Nations
could learn from the challenges of these recent missions and how it can prepare itself
to cope more effectively with such situations
in the future.

LESSONS LEARNED
Indispensable Ingredients:
Mandate, Outcome, Means,
Intelligence, and Media
There has been much interest in identifying
the reasons for the success or failure of recent peacekeeping missions (Durch, 1996;
Maren, 1997; Roberts, 1996; Schear, 1996;
Vaccaro, 1996). It is difficult to draw any
conclusive generalizations about what may
cause peacekeeping missions to succeed or
fail but it is worth exploring five of the key
findings generated by the U.N. Lessons
Learned Unit.
First, mandates of peacekeeping operations need to be clear and precise, yet flexi-

U. N. Peacekeeping
ble and based on the realities that exist in
the conflict situation. "Only on the basis of
accurate infonnation should a practicable
mandate be fonnulated or a detennination
made of whether the United Nations should
even establish a peacekeeping operation"
(Stiftung, 1996, p. 5).
Second, there is a need to detennine
the political outcome that will stem from
the successful pursuit of the mandate.
In the Somalian mission, no overall plan of
action was ever clearly established. In Eastern Slavonia, on the other hand, the mandate for the operation was relatively clear
and precise, and specifically included several nonmilitary interventions, such as monitoring the voluntary return of refugees and
establishing and training a transitional police
force. This clear and detailed mandate permitted the U.N. Special Representative of the
Secretary General to fonnulate the strategic
plan for the mission with confidence.
Third, there must be sufficient resources and mandates must be matched
with the means to implement them. The
mismatch of the forces vis avis the mandate
in Somalia, where the U.N. mission tried to
achieve the impossible, and the failure to
provide sufficient resources to the mission
in Rwanda, are glaring examples of what
happens when the mandate exceeds the
means for implementation. United Nations
peacekeepers in Somalia could not address
the social and political complexities of fighting war lords, and in Rwanda the international community was simply not willing to
provide the military force that would have
been needed to prevent the slaughter of a
half a million Tutsis and moderate Hutus in
the genocide of 1994. In contrast, the provision of needed levels of resources in
Namibia, Mozambique, Haiti, and Eastern
Slavonia represent the alternate approach.
More than adequate resources-equipment, money, and personnel-were pro-

177
vided, allowing the United Nations to undertake its mandate with relative success.
Fourth, intelligence must be included
as an essential component of peace operations. Although the concept of "military intelligence" may carry an undeserved sinister
association for some, U.N. peacekeeping requires an in-depth understanding of the
conflict, based on ample intelligence from
member states and solid political analysis.
Only on that basis can a clear mandate be
fonnulated and the operational means assembled to achieve it. From the Congo operation, where the intelligence service did
not exist, to Eastern Slavonia, where there
was a staffed military component within the
mission staff, the development of an information/intelligence capacity has assisted
commanders in better managing their operations, reacting to possible threats, and better understanding the political, military,
and social environment of their area of responsibility.
Fifth, an effective public information
strategy should be established by the United
Nations to provide a direct channel of communications with the local population as
soon as a peacekeeping mission is deployed.
Experience has shown correlations between
the presence of infonnation strategy and
mission success. The U.N. radio station in
Cambodia was judged instrumental in the
education of the population and in convincing them to vote. The responsible agency,
staffed by expatriate Kmer language and
culture experts, would go out among the
people in the remotest regions of the country and explain to them what the United Nations was doing there, why, and how long it
would remain (Ahlquist, 1996). In contrast,
the U.N. mission in Somalia, although the
best-covered U.N. operation from the
media viewpoint, lost the media war. Radio,
the key in the Somali oral society, was not
set up and proved to be a serious shortfall in

178
getting the U.N. message out (Giuliani et
al., 1995).

What If There Is No Political Will?
Political motivation and political persuasion
are critical elements in a peace process.
When the parties are genuinely interested in
a settlement, mountains can be moved in
the interests of peace. However in chaotic
conditions in which power has devolved to
splin ter factions which have no real in terests
in peace, there are palpable limits to what
the international community can accomplish. A sense of community-the will to reconcile-cannot be imposed. (United Nations, 1997, p. 2)
Comprehensive peace
agreements
should be the foundation of any deployment of a peace operation. Consent of the
parties is ideal such as occurred with the deployment of the U.N. operations in Mozambique and Angola. Yet in the confused situations found in many war-tom regions,
particularly during intra-state conflicts, consent may be fleeting. At this point inducement may be the answer.
Inducement operations are conceived ... to
restore civil society by two methods where it
has broken down: (1) the use of positive incentives (rewards) to induce, in the first instance, consent and cooperation with the
peace operation and, beyond that, reconciliation; and (2) the threat of coercion to gain
the consent and cooperation, however
grudging of those who are unresponsive to
positive incentives. (Annan, 1996, p. 3)

Civilian. Military. and Diplomatic:
Integrative Approaches
To achieve maximum effectiveness, the
civilian and military components in a peacekeeping operation must work together and
coordinate their joint efforts toward shared
goals. Recent complex emergencies have

Peacemaking
seen a need for the integration and coordination of military resources and humanitarian nongovernmental organizations (NGOs).
Twenty-eight different NGOs provided humanitarian aid during the Kurdish crisis of
1991, 78 participated in Somalia, 170 in
Rwanda, and over 400 in Haiti (National
Defense University, 1996). In cases such as
these, a common vision needs to be established within the broad context of the mission to coordinate military and humanitarian efforts. This should be based on a
consensus on how to proceed without strip. ping individual agencies of their independence or autonomy. Military and civilian
components need to be cognizant of the operating parameters of the other. Both face
serious operating constraints with civilian
agencies no longer seen as neutral or facing
any less dangers than the military.
Diplomatic activity is central to peace
operations. The importance of diplomatic
success may he seen in essentially all peacekeeping missions but was most clear in Cambodia and the former Yugoslavia (Perkins,
1998). Perhaps the greatest challenge in the
political realm is defining objectives at the
strategic level to which all the players can
subscribe. There will rarely be complete
agreement by all parties on end-states, but
for effective interagency coordination, the
extent to which there is a commonly pursued goal must be made clear at the highest
level (Last & Vought, 1994).
Peacekeeping can no longer be treated
as a distinct element that is undertaken in
isolation from peacemaking and peacebuilding. Patrick Rechner of the Canadian
Pearson Peacekeeping Centre makes an important argument:
... the key to linking peace making, peacekeeping and peace building functions is to do
so both at the macro and micro levels, working pro-actively at both levels and shifting the

179

U.N. Peacekeeping
focus of efforts between the two as obstacles
crop up or local leaders become intransigent.
Moreover each of these three functions must
be directed at specific aspects of a conflict
structure. (Rechner, 1998, p. 5)

From this integration devolve some of
the absolutely vital tasks that must begin immediately as a peacekeeping operation is
deployed. These include demilitarization,
disannament, demining, law and order
training and monitoring of a local police
force, human rights monitoring and reintegration of public institutions. They must be
considered constituent elements of a secure
environment.
Today, security is increasingly understood
not just in military terms, and as far more
than the absence of conflict. It is in fact a
phenomenon that encompasses economic
development, social justice, environmental
protection, democratization, disarmament
and respect for human rights. These goals--these pillars of peace-are interrelated.
(Annan, 1997b, p. 4)

THE FACE OF FUTURE
PEACEKEEPING: A NEW PARADIGM
Dealing with Complex
Humanitarian Emergencies
Although the threat of interstate conflict
will not disappear over the foreseeable future, the operating environment for peace
operations will clearly focus on intrastate
conflict.
These intra-state ethnic conflicts are not
going to disappear-they may be the pattern of the future which will be marked on
the one hand by the creation of large economic and even political spaces in which internal boundaries will be practically meaningless and, on the other hand by internal
conflict and fragmentation of states, usually
states in transition, with much bloodshed.
(Annan, 1996, p. 3)

These can best be described as complex
humanitarian emergencies, and the threats
they produce include civil strife; mass dislocations of people both internally and externally; economic collapse; famine; starvation;
epidemics; disease; and gross violations of
human rights. Within this context, any future paradigm for action must include not
only the military capability to impose order
in an environment of chaos, but also the humanitarian capability to provide protection,
food, water, and shelter to refugees, and the
capacity to assist with the full recovery and
rebuilding of society in the aftermath of

war.
To succeed in bringing relief and order
to such chaotic environments, many future
U.N. peacekeeping operations will straddle
the boundary between peacekeeping and
peace enforcement. These types of missions
with elements from the enforcement side of
the spectrum have presented new problems
for the United Nations and the controversial missions in Bosnia, Somalia, and
Rwanda have helped to generate conservatism in member states. The United Nations will continue to be asked to conduct
multidimensional missions and indications
are that the Security Council will continue
to ask the Secretary General to perform operations outside the boundaries of traditional peacekeeping. The United Nations
must face the problems it is presented and
solve them with the appropriate tools, procedures and resources.
In the new paradigm, the scope of
peace operations in the twenty-first century
will remain broad and incorporate some of
the tools previously available: embargoes,
blockades, and "all means necessary" for the
military enforcement of peace. Forces will
be equipped and mandated to accomplish
more robust tasks, including preventive deployment, peace enforcement, and other
tasks that calion peacekeepers to use the

180

force of arms to impose peace. Enforcement measures may be taken proactively, or
may be used under more limited rules of
engagement and only to ensure compliance
with consent-based agreements. Another
progressive step may be the utilization of
more technologically advanced equipment
to monitor these agreements in order to reduce the need to use force.
Future peacekeeping will almost certainly be ajoint venture by a variety of organizations: political, democratic, diplomatic
(Perkins, 1998), humanitarian (Wessells,
1998), human rights, media, military, civilian police (Vaccaro, 1998), and electoral
(Pagani, 1998). Peacekeeping will also be
carried out under conditions of uncertainty
and great personal danger to the participants. Political leadership, the military, civilian police, humanitarian agencies, civilian
support staff, and developmental staffs must
all act in concert during complex multidimensional humanitarian emergencies if success is to be achieved.
The Component Chiefs-both military
and civilian-of future missions must recognize there will be no simple military solution to conflict. Military operations can buy
time, jump-start an operation, and respond
more quickly in a crisis to reduce the levels
of violence, disorder, or starvation. But these
procedures must be accompanied by longterm political and humanitarian efforts designed to resolve the bases of the conflict.
Another danger for the leaders and
planners of future peacekeeping missions is
that when the military arrives, other components may be inclined to stand down until it
is their tum again. Political efforts must
continue while troops are on the ground to
ensure their contribution is not wasted.
Other components have roles to play in
order to reestablish stability and put the
peace process back on track. In the former
Yugoslavia, the political efforts needed to

Peacemaking

implement the terms of the 1995 Dayton
Peace Accord seemed to slow to a crawl with
the arrival of NATO's Implementation
Force (IFOR). The presence of a force is a
tool in the integrated peace process, not a
solution. What happens when the forces are
withdrawn? Will this lead to another failed
effort? To achieve a coordinated outcome
and avoid failure, the mission management
structure must integrate efforts of all the
mission components simultaneously.
Operations are and will continue to be
multidimensional in nature. Future missions will almost always include aspects of
many tasks. Tasks performed within the
framework of traditional peacekeeping will
continue and traditional techniques will
continue to be applicable. In the end, the
basic principles of peacekeeping doctrine
remain as important as they ever were, but
perhaps the emphasis and how they are applied has changed as a result of the new paradigm. A brief examination is in order:

Unity of Pu7pose-Leadership is the key
to achieving this goal. Doctrinal conflicts between mission participants, linguistic barriers, different levels of capability, and different levels of training
will all impact on the unity of purpose.
A principal challenge for leaders in
peace operations will be to overcome
these internal obstacles in the organization and operation of the mission.
Use of Force-The use of force needs to
be considered in the context of the mission area. The use of force may range
from the use of coercion, sanctions, or
embargoes, to the simple presence of
the peacekeeper on the ground, to the
application of lethal force by appropriately equipped military units. The decision to use the force needs to balance
with the end-state goals of the inte-

U.N. Peacekeeping

181

grated mission. However, the critical aspect is that peacekeeping must always
be backed up with credible force. ''You
can do a lot with diplomacy, but of
course you can do a lot more with diplomacy backed up by fairness and force w
(Annan, 1998).1
Consensus Planning-In this multidimensional environment, the need to
utilize an integrated planning process
to ensure that the unity of purpose is
woven into all aspects of the plan will be
crucial to success. Trying to plan a series of military activities without consideration for the impact on humanitarian
or other operations in the mission area
may incite disputes ranging from the allocation of resources to a lack of trust
and confidence between agencies in the
area.
Simplicity-Complex operations need to
be broken down into clear achievable
tasks, which will make the goals of the
mission more apparent to the parties of
the conflict and other agencies in the
mission area. Additionally, clearly stated
goals avoid the "CNN effect whereby
sympathetic viewers worldwide call for
the United Nations to undertake more
than may be possible in terms of peacekeeping and humanitarian interventions Uakobsen, 1996).
W

It is improbable that the Security Council will take a traditional, retrenching approach to peace operations in the future.
The overall change in the global context of
peacekeeping presents the United Nations
with a new ideal that requires a shift from
traditional peacekeeping to a refinement in
'Quotes from Annan (1998) can be found in "The
Quotable Kofi Annan, Selections from Speeches by the
Secretary General,· New York: The Department ofPuir
lic Infonnation. p. 12.

the planning, management, and execution
of complex, multi-dimensional operations.
There must be a focus on political solutions
or achievable end states supplemented by
forces mandated and resourced to accomplish them.

How Is the U.N. Community
Responding to Changes in the
Operational Environment?
It is clear that the Member States of the
United Nations have realized that change is
occurring rapidly. Although few new missions were authorized by the Security Council during the period 1996 to 1998, troopcontributing nations have been preparing
themselves with the expectation that this
may change. Training has improved and includes multinational exercises held to teach
soldiers methods and techniques for the
conduct of peacekeeping operations. Selfpaced correspondence courses are offered
to instruct peacekeepers world-wide on procedural, conceptual, legal, and administrative aspects of peacekeeping (Langholtz,
1998).
Strengthening of the mechanisms for
planning and management, human rights
monitoring, humanitarian relief, rapid deployment-~l indicate that the community,
whether individual member state, agency, or
secretariat department are voting through
action. Annan (1997a) believes that the
U.N. community will be better prepared in
the future because they have a clearer understanding of the limits and continuing
usefulness of peacekeeping. Past setbacks
have demonstrated the risk of dispatching
peacekeepers with inadequate resources. Finally, Annan asserts, the U.N. member
states recognize that inaction is not an acceptable response to massive violence that
threatens international peace and security.

182

CONCLUSION
The United Nations was built upon the
ashes of World War II and was designed to
avert a repeat of the scale of wars that had
twice plagued the world during the first half
of the twentieth century. Peacekeeping was
not written into the U.N. Charter but
evolved nevertheless throughout the Cold
War for use only under certain conditions
and only when the nature of the conflict fit
with what traditional peacekeeping could
offer.
The end of the Cold War brought a willingness for the community of nations to attempt more risky peacekeeping missions,
while fighting is still going on, where
boundaries and sovereignty are not clearly
defined, and where the psychological environment is characterized by polarization,
hatred, revenge, and suspicion. "Where in
the past (wars) generally arose from aggression across national frontiers, the wars of
the 21st century will more likely be between
ethnic, religious, ideological, or tribal fac-

Peacemaking
tions within the same country" (Schlesinger,
1997, p. 12). "The sources of conflict and
war are pervasive and deep. To reach them
will require our utmost effort to enhance respect for human rights and fundamental
freedoms" (Boutros-Ghali, 1992, p. 2).
There is every reason to believe that the
first part of the twenty-first century will witness a continuation of these intranational
conflicts. It will not be possible to define,
control, or understand these conflicts using
the political and psychological assumptions
that were suitable for peacekeeping operations from the founding of the United Nations to the close of the Cold War. Instead,
the twenty-first century is likely to see multidimensional military and civilian peacekeeping missions deployed in settings of war
and anarchy, not only to impose peace, but
also for the purposes of peacemaking, peacebuilding, demining, humanitarian aid, election monitoring, and assisting with the reinstitution of the fabric of civil life that will
nurture an enduring and self-sustaining
peace.

CHAPTER 16

THE CULTURAL CONTEXT
OF PEACEMAKING
Paul B. Pedersen

Conflict is a natural aspect of any relationship. Conflict may be positive or negative,
that is, functional or dysfunctional. Whereas
negative conflict threatens to erode the
growth and development of a relationship,
positive conflict can actually strengthen relationships, especially when the parties in
conflict share fundamental values.
One of the maJor difficulties peacemakers confront in conflicts between groups
from different cultures is the uncertainty
about cultural values. Peaceful resolution
of intercultural conflict often involves the
parties acknowledging their shared values
and mutually appreciating their cultural
differences. However, in intercultural conflict resolution even when different cultural
groups share the same values, their behavioral expression of these values may differ.
Not only can different behaviors have the
same meaning, the same behavior can have
different meanings. Therefore, it is important to interpret each behavior in its cultural context. In order to intervene constructively in intercultural confli<;t, it is
essential that a peacemaker understand
both the basic values of the cultures and
the behavioral expressions of these values.
The peacemaker is then in a good position
to help the parties empathize with one another and to gauge how best to approach

them in the context of their own conflict
resolution processes.
A consistent weakness of many international peacemaking efforts derives from the
cultural insularity of the practitioners, especially the insensitivity of Western peacemakers to the cultural context of non-Western
groups in conflict. Lund, Morris, and
LeBaron-Duryea (1994) suggest that culture-centered models which incorporate a
culturally sensitive approach to conflict may
be more appropriate than any universal
("one-size-fits-all") model of intervention. It
is the purpose of this chapter to explore,
clarify, and propose methods of meeting
the critical need to incorporate cultural understanding into the peacemaking process.
In the first section, I present a culturecentered perspective on conflict. Then, I
compare Western and non-Western models
of peacemaking, contrasting the collectivist
model invoked in the Asia-Pacific region
with the individualistic model of the West.
In the third section, I describe in detail certain features of the Chinese and Hawaiian
conflict resolution systems to exemplify some
non-Western peacemaking procedures which
could prove useful in the West. In the
fourth section, I present the Cultural Grid,
a model that helps identify the complexity
of culture and guides the training of people
183

184

to manage conflict in multicultural settings.
Finally, I turn to prospects for the future,
noting the growing importance of cultural
understanding and certain cultural fictions
that must be set aside if we are to promote
peace effectively in the twenty-first century.

A CULTURE-CENTERED PERSPECTIVE
ON CONFLICT
The ways that conflicts between groups are
managed reflect each group's culturally acquired patterns of attitudes and beliefs.
These patterns may involve punishing
wrongdoers, repairing strained or broken
relationships, depending on courts or legal
systems or relying on informal social pressure through teasing, gossip, exclusion, and
supernatural forces. These typical ways of
perceiving and responding to conflict are so
natural to ingroup members of a culture
that they assume their perspectives can be
applied in other cultures (Fry & Bjorkqvist,
1997).
The impact of culture on conflict
has important implications. First, misunderstandings may occur as groups in conflict interpret the behavior of outsiders according
to the cultural rules of insiders. Second,
conflict may not be resolved when groups in
conflict seek quick and easy answers by forcing their own cultural perspective on one
another. Third, a better understanding of
the impact of culture on conflict may allow
us to adapt others' peacemaking strategies
to enlarge our own repertoire.
Peacemaking requires that both parties
to a conflict be able to accurately understand the conflict from the other side's
point of view. In a failing conflictual process, two groups are frustrated in their efforts to achieve agreement by an inability
(or unwillingness) to accurately interpret
or understand each other's perspective. In
contrast, when conflicting groups adopt a

Peacemaking

culture-centered perspective, they actively
seek meaning in the other's actions and
proactively try to make their own actions
understandable to the other (Dubinskas,
1992). By jointly constructing cultural meaning, the cultural differences are not erased.
Instead, the cultural integrity of all parties is
preserved and a new basis for intercultural
cooperation and coordination is constructed as a metaphoric bridge to an island
of common ground for both sides of the
dispute.

WESTERN AND NON·WESTERN
MODELS OF PEACEMAKING
Individualistic vs.
Collectivistic Cultures
Non-Western cultures have typically been
associated with "collectivistic" perspectives, while Western cultures have typically
been associated with "individualistic"
value systems (Kim, Triandis, Kagitcibasi,
Choi, & Yoon, 1994). One difference between the two value systems is that individualism describes societies where the connections between people are loose, and
each person is expected to look after him
or herself. Collectivism describes cultures
where people are part of strong cohesive
ingroups which protect them in exchange
for unquestioned lifetime loyalty (Hofstede, 1991). Differences on the individualism-collectivism dimension can lead to
problems. For instance, the concept of individual freedom is a reflection of an individualistic value and it would be improper
to impose such a value on a collectivistic
society.
A second difference is that in non-Western collectivistic cultures, one of the ways to
manage disagreement between people is
through the use of quoted proverbs or stories that give guidance on how to manage

The Cultural Context of Peacemaking

power differentials, handle disputes, locate
mediators or go-betweens, and how to
achieve mutually satisfactory settlements
(Augsburger, 1992). For example, WatsonGegeo and White (1990) describe how Pacific Islanders prefer the term "disentangling" over the more individualistic notions
of conflict resolution or dispute management. Disentangling is more a process than
an outcome and the image of a tangled net
or line blocking purposeful activity has a
practical emphasis as well as implying the
ideal state where the lines of people's lives
are "straight." Katz (1993) likewise talks
about "the straight path" as a healing tradition of Fiji with spiritual dimensions of
health for the individual and for society.
A third difference is the notion of self.
In Western societies, the self is grounded intrapsychically in self-love, self-definition,
and self-direction. In the solidarity of a collectivistic setting, the self is not free. It is
bound by mutual role obligations and duties, structured and nurtured in an ongoing
process of give-and-take in facework negotiations. In the West, there must be high consistency between public face and private
self-image. In the East, the self is not an individual but a relational construct" (Augsburger, 1992, p. 86).

High and Low Context Cultures
Another way of distinguishing cultures is
the degree to which context matters.
Low context cultures generally refer to
groups characterized by individualism, overt
communication and heterogeneity. The
United States, Canada and Central and
Northern Europe are described as areas
where low context cultural practices are
most in evidence. High context cultures feature collective identity-focus, covert communication and homogeneity. This approach
prevails in Asian countries including Japan,

185
China and Korea as well as Latin American
countries. (Hall, 1976, p. 39)
Gudykunst and Ting-Toomey (1988)
have made similar distinctions: Low-context
cultures are likely to emphasize the individual
rather than the group, be concerned about
autonomy rather than inclusion, be direct
rather than indirect, take a controlling style
of confrontation rather than an obliging
style, and be competitive rather than collaborative. To illustrate, Hall (1976) contrasts the
American (low-context) with the Japanese
(high<ontext) perspective regarding justice.
In aJapanese trial, the accused, the court, the
public, and the injured parties come together
in a collaborative effort to settle the dispute.
In the United States, the function ofa trial is
to focus on the crime, confront the perpetrator, and affix blame in a way that the criminal
and society see the consequences.
Gudykunst and Ting-Toomey associate
high- and low-context with collectivism and
individualism, respectively. While low<ontext persons view indirect conflict management as weak, cowardly, or evasive, members
of high<ontext cultures view direct conflict
management as impolite and clumsy. While
low-context persons separate the conflict
issue from the person, high<ontext cultures
see the issue and person as interrelated.
While low<ontext persons seek to manage
conflict toward an objective and fair solution, high<ontext cultures focus on the affective, relational, personal, and subjective
aspects which preclude open conflict. While
low<ontext cultures have a linear and logical worldview which is problem-{)riented and
sensitive to individuals, high-context cultures see the conflict, event, and all actors in
a unified, holistic context. While low-context
cultures value independence focused on autonomy, freedom, and personal rights, highcontext cultures value inclusion, approval,
and association.

Peacemaking

186
Table 16.1

Differences between Low- and High-context Cultures

Low Context

High Context

Individual participants must first accept and
acknowledge that there is a conflict before
resolution/mediation can begin.

Traditional groups must first accept and acknowledge that there is a conflict before resolution/
mediation can begin.

Conflict and resolution/mediation process must
often be kept private.

Conflict is not private and must be made public
before the resolution/mediation process can begin.

Conflict management trains an individual

Social conflict management emphasizes monitoring or mediating stress in a proactive manner.

to negotiate/mediate or resolve conflict

reactively.
Resolution and mediation are individually defined by the individuals involved in the conflict.

Conflict and its resolution/mediation are defined
by the group or culture.

Settlements are usually devoid of ritual and
spirituality.

Settlements are most often accompanied by ritual
and spirituality.

Negotiations are face-to-face and confidential.

Negotiations are indirect (through intermediaries)
and public.

Preference for court settlements.

Relying on courts to resolve/mediate conflict is regarded as a failure.

Using data from a 1994 conference on
"Conflict resolution in the Asia Pacific Region," Pedersen and Jandt (1996) developed some hypotheses about how high- and
low-{;ontext cultures experience conflict differently. These hypotheses are presented in
Table 16.1.
Western cultures have typically been associated with more individualistic perspectives with less emphasis on the importance of
context. Non-Western cultures have typically
been more collectivistic with more emphasis
on the importance of context. Of course, neither of these two perspectives is right or
wrong or exclusively Western or non-Western. Nevertheless, in any conflict involving
parties from different cultures, peacemakers
need to be sensitive to the different rules that
apply to peacemaking in each culture. An examination of conflict in a high-{;ontext culture located in the Asian-Pacific region of the
world, can help illustrate many of the principles of peacemaking across cultures.

CONFLICT IN AN ASIAN-PACIFIC
CONTEXT: A CASE STUDY
The Asian-Pacific perspective is unique in
several ways, as described by a Chinese mediator. "We who engage in mediation work
should use our mouths, legs and eyes more
often. This means we should constantly explain the importance of living in harmony
and dispense legal education. We should
also pay frequent visits to people's houses
and when we hear or see any symptoms of
disputes we should attempt to settle them
before they become too serious" (Barnes,
1991, p. 26).

The Concept of "Face"
Conflict management in the Asian context
has been described as face maintenance,
face saving, face restoration, or face loss
(Duryea, 1992). The concept of "face" is
Chinese in origin as a literal translation of

The Cultural Context of Peacemaking

the Chinese term lian, representing the
confidence of society in the integrity of
moral character. Without moral character,
individuals cannot function in their community (Hu, 1945). One loses face when an
individual or group or someone representing the group fails to meet the requirements
of their socially defined role or position.
Face can become more important than life
itself as the evaluation of the self by the community is essential to identity. What one
thinks of self is less important than what one
thinks others think. Ting-Toomey (1994) defines the concept of face in conflict management as important in all communications.
The traditional Chinese approach to
conflict resolution is based on saving face for
aU parties by the choices each makes regarding personal goals and interpersonal harmony. This approach follows the Confucian
tradition in which the choice between personal goals and interpersonal harmony depends on the particular nature of the relationship between conflicted parties (Hwang,
1998). When a subordinate is in conflict
with a superior he or she must protect the
superior's face to maintain interpersonal
harmony. Opinions are expressed indirectly,
and any personal goal must be achieved privately while pretending to obey the superior.
When the conflict involves horizontal
relationships among "ingroup" members,
they may communicate directly, and to protect harmony they may give face to each
other through compromise. If, however,
one insists on his or her personal goal in
spite of the feelings of the other, the fight
may continue for a long time. If both parties insist on their conflicting personal
goals, they may treat the other as an "outgroup" member and confront that person
directly, disregarding harmony and protecting their own face. A third party might be
required to mediate this conflict and it may
result in destroying the relationship.

187
Hwang (1998) describes the Confucian
relationships of father/son, husband/wife,
senior/junior brother, and superior/subordinate in a vertical structure emphasizing
the value of harmony. "When one is conflicting with someone else within his or her
social network, the first thing one has to
learn is forbearance . .. In its broadest sense,
forbearance means to control and to suppress one's emotion, desire and psychological impulse" (p. 28). Therefore a subordinate must obey and endure the superior's
demands, relying on indirect communication from some third party in their social
network to communicate with the superior.
Because Confucian rules of politeness require
both sides to "care about the other's face" at
least superficially, conflict among ingroup
members may not be evident to outsiders.
In a family, for example, members take care
of each other's face in front of outsiders to
maintain superficial harmony by obeying
publicly and defying privately (Gao & TingToomey, 1998)

Ho'oponopono
One Pacific Islands model for peacemaking
and managing conflict is through ho'oponopono, which means "setting to right" in the
Hawaiian language. The traditional Hawaiian cultural context emphasizes cooperation and harmony. The extended family, or
ohana, is the foundation of traditional
Hawaiian society, ... [and] successful maturation of a person in the Hawaiian culture
thus requires that an individual cultivate an
accurate ability to perceive and attend to
other people's needs, often without being
asked" (Shook, 1985, p. 6). Unregulated conflict disrupts balance and harmony, requires
self-scrutiny, admission of wrongdoing, asking forgiveness, and restitution to restore harmony. Illness becomes a punishment that occurs when one ignores the social pressure

Peacemaking

1BB
against taking negative actions or having
negative feelings toward others.
The traditional ho'oponopono approach
to problem solving and conflict management begins with prayer, asking God for assistance and placing the process in a cosmic
or spiritual context. This is followed by identification, which means sharing strength to
solve the family's problems by reaching out
to the persons causing disruption to establish a favorable climate. The problem is then
described in a way that ties the person who
was wronged and the wrongdoer together in
an entanglement. Then the many different
dimensions of the entanglement problem
are explored and clarified, one by one. As
each aspect is identified through discussion,
the layers or tangles of the problem are reorganized until family relationships are again
in harmony. Individuals who have been
wronged are encouraged to share their feelings and perceptions and to engage in honest, open self-scrutiny. If the group discussion is disrupted by emotional outbursts, the
leader may declare a period of silence for
family members to regain harmony in their
discussion. Following this is the sincere confession of wrongdoing, where the wrongdoer seeks forgiveness and agrees to restitution. Untangling the negative then joins
both the wronged and the wrongdoer in a
mutual release and restores their cosmic
and spiritual harmony. A closing spiritual
ceremony reaffirms the family's strength
and bond.
Attempts to adapt hO'oponopono to Westernized contexts have applied those aspects
of (1) recognizing the importance of conflict management in a spiritual context, (2)
channeling the discussion with sanctions of
silence should disruption occur, and (3)
bringing the wrongdoer back into the community as a full member with complete restitution and forgiveness. Understanding a radically different dispute resolution system

should help peacemakers become more sensitive to whatever cultural differences they
encounter in their work.

THE CULTURAL GRID
Hines and Pedersen (1980) introduced and
developed The Cultural Grid to help identify and describe the complexity of a cultural context in a way that would suggest research hypotheses and guide the training of
people to manage conflict in multicultural
settings. Table 16.2 presents the Within-Person Cultural Grid. The grid provides a conceptual framework that demonstrates how
cultural and personal variables interact in a
combined context, linking each behavior
(what you did) to expectations, each expectation to values (why you did it), and each
value to the social system (where you
learned to do it). Each cultural context is
complicated and dynamic so that each value
is taught by many teachers, with different
values becoming salient in different situations. Multicultural self-awareness means
being able to identify what you did (behavior), why you did it (expectation and value),
and where you learned to do it (cultureteachers).
The Within-Person Cultural Grid is intended to show the complex network of culturally learned patterns behind each behavior in a chain of logic from teachers to
values and expectations to the behavior.
The dangers of interpreting behaviors "out
of context" are apparent once the contextual linkage of behaviors to expectations,
values, and social systems has been demonstrated. Cultural conflict can arise when the
context of behavior is not interpreted
appropriately. For example, our cultural
teachers may have taught us the value of
being fair and might have communicated
that we should "do unto others as you would
have them do unto you." Someone from an-

The Cultural Context of Peacemaking

Table 16.2

189

Within-Person Cultural Grid
Personal Variables

Cultural Teachers

Where you learned
to do it [teachers)

Why you did it
[values and expect.)

What you did
[behavior)

l.Family relationships
relatives
fellow countrypersons
ancestors
shared beliefs
2. Power relationships
social friends
sponsors and mentors
subordinates
supervisors and
superiors
3. Memberships
co-workers
organizations
gender and age
groups
workplace colleagues
4. Non-family
relationships
friendships
classmates
neighbors
people like me

other culture might share the same value
(i.e., being fair), but there may be differences in which behaviors are viewed as indications of fairness. If you focus only on the
behavior out of context, a misunderstanding may occur.
In order to examine interpersonal processes, we now consider another cultural
grid. The Between-Persons Cultural Grid is
illustrated in Table 16.3. This grid describes
the relationship between two people or
groups by separating what was done (behaviors) from why it was done (expectations).

The Between-Persons Cultural Grid includes four quadrants. Each quadrant explains parts of a conflict between two individuals or groups, recognizing that the
salience of each quadrant may change over
time and across situations (Pedersen, 1993).
In the first quadrant (same behavior, same
expectation), two individuals have similar
behaviors and similar positive expectations.
The relationship is congruent and harmonious and there are positive shared expectations behind the behavior. Both persons are
smiling (behavior) and both persons expect

Peacemaking

190
Table 16.3

Between-Persons Cultural Grid
What Was Done? (behavior)

Why It Was Done
(expectation)

Same action

Different action

Perceived same and positive
reason
Perceived different
and negative reason

friendship (expectation). There is little conflict in this quadrant.
In the second quadrant, two individuals
or groups have different behaviors but
share the same positive expectations. There
is a high level of agreement in that both
persons expect trust and friendliness. However, if behavior is interpreted out of context, it is likely to be incorrectly seen as different and possibly hostile. This quadrant is
characteristic of cultural conflict in which
each person or group is applying a self-reference criterion to interpret the other person's or group's behavior. Both expect respect but one shows respect by being very
formal and the other by being very informal. In another example, two people may
both expect harmony but one shows harmony by smiling a lot and the other by
being very serious. If the behaviors are not
perceived as reflecting shared, positive,
common-ground expectations, the conflict
may escalate as each party perceives the
other as hostile. The conditions described
in the second quadrant are very unstable
and, unless the shared positive expectations
are quickly found and made explicit, the
salience is likely to change toward the third
quadrant.
In the third quadrant, the two persons
have the same behaviors but now they have
different or negative expectations. The similarity of behaviors gives the appearance of

harmony and agreement, but the hidden
expectations are different or negative and
are not likely to bode well for the relationship. While you may have cross-cultural conflict when the behaviors are the same and
expectations are different, the salient feature here is no longer the shared cultural
value, meaning, or expectation, but rather
the similar behaviors outside their cultural
context. When I interpret your behavior
from my own cultural perspective, I impose
my culture on you and interpret your behavior out of context. Although both persons
are now in disagreement this may not be obvious or apparent to others. One person
may continue to expect trust and friendliness while the other person is now distrustful and unfriendly, even though they are
both behaving similarly, both smiling and
glad-handing. If these two people can be
guided to remember an earlier time when
they shared positive expectations, they might
be able to return to the second quadrant
and reverse the escalating conflict between
them. If the difference in expectations is ignored or undiscovered, the conflict may
move to the fourth quadrant.
In the fowth quadrant, two people have
different and/or negative expectations and
they stop pretending to be congruent. The
two persons are at war with one another and
may not want to increase the harmony in
their relationship any longer. Their disagree-

The Cultural Context of Peacemaking
ment is now obvious and apparent, and they
may just want to hurt one another. This condition would describe intimate violence, hate
crimes, ethnopolitical violence, terrorism,
and other extreme forms of conflict.
It is very difficult to retrieve conflict from
the fourth quadrant because one or both parties have stopped trying to find shared positive expectations. Unfortunately, many conflicts between people and groups remain
undiscovered until reaching the fourth quadrant. An appropriate prevention strategy
would be to identify the conflict in behaviors
early in the process when those differences in
behaviors are in a context of shared positive
expectations, allowing both parties to build
on the common ground they share without
forcing either party to lose integrity.
Therefore, two people may both share
the positive expectation of trust but one may
be loud and the other quiet; they may share
respect but one may be open and the other
closed; they may both believe in fairness but
one may be direct and the other indirect;
they may value efficiency but one may be formal and the other informal; they may seek
effectiveness but one may be close and the
other distant; or they may want safety but
one may be task-oriented and the other
relationship-oriented. Only when each behavior is assessed and understood in its own
context does that behavior become meaningful. Only when positive shared expectations can be identified will two individuals
or groups be able to find common ground
without sacrificing cultural integrity.

CULTURALLY BASED CONFLICT
MANAGEMENT IN THE TWENTYFIRST CENTURY
There are many reasons for conflict across
cultures. Different needs and wants, different beliefs, competing goals, different loyalties, values, ideologies, and geopolitical fac-

191
tors provide opportunities for conflict. Limited resources and wealth, the availability of
technological solutions, disparities in power
across social groups and classes all provide
reasons for disagreement.
The United States offers one example
of the increasing importance of a culturecentered perspective on .conflict and the
need to develop more adequate culture-sensitive tools for managing conflict. Demographic changes in the United States, with
some minority groups growing more rapidly
than others, will change the nature of community disputes so that issues of race, national origin, and ethnicity are more likely
to be important considerations in the twentyfirst century. The culture-based approach
emphasizes that although cultures may embrace the same core values, the expression
of these values in observable behaviors may
differ dramatically, thereby increasing the
likelihood of misunderstanding. Those seeking to mediate or manage community disputes will need to know more about the cultural background of the people involved.
Culturally defined tools and strategies will
become necessary not only to understand
the disputes, but also to assist and resolve
them (Kruger, 1992).
Sunoo (1990) provides seven guidelines
for mediators of intercultural disputes.

1. Anticipate different expectations.
2. Do not assume that what you say is
being understood.
3. Listen carefully.
4. Seek ways of getting both parties to validate the concerns of the other.

5. Be patient, be humble, and be willing to
learn.
6. Apply win-win negotiating principles to
the negotiation rather than traditional
adversarial bargaining techniques.
7. Dare to do things differently.

192
These recommendations parallel ten
guidelines by Cohen (1991), who suggests
that the negotiator study the opponent's culture and history, try to establish a warm personal relationship, refrain from assuming
that others understand what you mean, be
alert to indirect communication, be sensitive
to face/status issues, adapt your strategy to
your opponent's cultural needs, be appropriately flexible and patient, and recognize
that outward appearances are important.
Lund, Morris, and LeBaron-Duryea
(1994) note that culture is complicated and
dynamic with considerable diversity within
each cultural group. Culture provides a
metaphor for respecting the complicated
and dynamic diversity within and between
cultural groups while also defining the common ground that connects the groups.
Finding common ground without giving up
integrity and without resorting to simplistic
stereotypes or overgeneralizations is the primary challenge.
Dominant-culture methods of conflict
resolution are based on culture-bound assumptions and incorporate values and attitudes not shared by members of minority
groups. These culture-bound assumptions
are implicit or explicit in many of the models of mediation and negotiation originating
in the West. It is important to separate fact
from fiction in these models and to make
peacemakers aware of culturally bound assumptions.

Fictions
One fiction is that conflicts are merely communication problems and if effective communication can be facilitated, then the conflict will be solved. In fact, the cultural
context mediates all communications between groups and must be attended to in all
conflict management.

Peacemaking

A second fiction is that there is a middle ground which both parties must reach
through compromise to get some of what they
want. In fact, the conflict may not fit a winlose model and compromising may be less effective than reframing the conflict so that
both parties gain without losing integrity.
A third fiction is that the optimal way to
address conflict is to get both of the parties
in the same room and facilitate an open,
forthright discussion of the issues. In fact,
direct contact in many cultural contexts
may be destructive, especially in contexts
where conflicts are managed indirecdy.
A fourth fiction is that parties in conflict should emphasize their individual interests over collective values of family, community, or society. In fact, the collective
interests may be more important than individual interests in some cultures.
A fifth fiction is that any third-party mediator must be a neutral person with no
connections to any of the conflicting parties. In fact, neutrality may be impossible or
even undesirable when it requires going
outside the group to find a third party.
A sixth fiction is that good procedures
for conflict resolution should be standardized according to fair, reasonable, and rational formats and policies. In fact, the expectation of fairness, reasonableness, and
rationality may be expressed quite differendy by each culture.
Peacemaking between ethnocultural
groups has become an urgent need in recent times and promises to be a major priority of the twenty-first century. By better understanding the positive contribution that a
culture-centered approach to peacemaking
provides, we might be better prepared to
promote the sustainable satisfaction of
human needs for security and a high quality
of life on a global scale for the twenty-first
century.

CHAPTER 17

CONFLICT RESOLUTION: THEORETICAL
AND PRACTICAL ISSUES
Ann Sanson and Di Bretherton

INTRODUCTION
Conflict resolution is a broad term referring to
a range of fonns of resolving disagreements
which may be manifested at different levels
of society. Research into conflict resolution
fits into our definition of peace psychology in
that it seeks to elucidate psychological
processes involved in the prevention and
mitigation of destructive conflict (see introductory chapter). The practice of conflict
resolution aims to utilize knowledge of psychological processes to maximize the positive
potential inherent in a conflict and to prevent
its destructive consequences.
Conflict resolution provides techniques
to deal with disp~~es in a manner which is
nonviolent, avoids dominance or oppression
by one party over the other, and, rather than
exploiting one party, aims to meet the
human needs of all. In relation to the positive
mission of peace psychology (Christie, 1997),
conflict resolution can be seen as a set of
strategies which can be used to foster the satisfaction of human needs for security, identity, self-determination and quality of life for
all people involved in a conflict. An important feature of conflict resolution within the
arena of peace psychology is that it bridges
theory and practice, moving from a theoretical understanding of psychological processes

into practical strategies for translating ideals
into realities in a wide number of arenas. Furthermore it does this in situations which are
fraught with difficulty and often seem to tax
our commitment to peace values.
There are models of conflict resolution
which are descriptive, outlining how negotiators and mediators actually do behave,
and models which are prescriptive, recommending the adoption of a set of procedures which negotiators and mediators
ought to use to resolve conflicts. We will not
attempt to describe the substantial literature that exists on the theory and practice
of conflict resolution. Rather, our aims in
this chapter are to identify how conflict resolution differs from other approaches to
conflict, to discuss the underlying principles, to present one model, and to highlight
points of contact and divergence between
this and other models. We will go on to discuss the extent to which such a model can
be applied, considering whether the Western origins of most conflict resolution models compromise their effectiveness for conflicts in other cultures. We will explore
some of the views of knowledge which underlie conflict resolution research and practice. We will end by pointing to some of the
areas where further development is necessary if conflict resolution is to contribute to
193

194

the peaceful resolution of the complex
problems of the twenty-first century.

WHAT IS CONFLICT?
There are multiple definitions oj conflict, including perceived differences in interests,
views, or goals (Deutsch, 1973); opposing
preferences (Carnevale & Pruitt, 1992); a
belief that the parties' current aspirations
cannot be achieved simultaneously (Rubin,
Pruitt, & Kim, 1994); and the process which
begins when one party perceives that another has frustrated, or is about to frustrate,
some concern of theirs.
While for many people the idea of conflict has negative connotations, it can be argued that conflict itself is better seen as
"value-neutral." Whether outcomes are positive
or negative will depend on the way in which
the conflict is handled (Deutsch, 1973).
Conflict can have damaging consequences.
It can create suspicion and distrust, obstruct
cooperative action and damage relationships, escalate differences in positions, and
even lead to violent confrontation. But, conflict can sometimes have positive effects. It
can open up issues for analysis, leading to
greater clarity and improving the quality of
problem-solving. It can encourage more
spontaneous and open communication leading to growth in the parties and in their relationship.
In conflict resolution, the aim is not to
avoid conflict but rather to deal with it in a
way which minimizes the negative impact
and maximizes the positive potential inherent in conflict within the framework of the
values of peace. That is, both the solutions
which are sought, and the means by which
they are sought, are judged against the criteria of being against violence, dominance,
oppression, and exploitation, and Jor the
satisfaction of human needs for security,

Peacemaking

identity, self determination and quality of
life for all people.
The course of any conflict, be it between individuals, groups, or nations, will
be shaped by the social context in which it
takes place. From an ecological perspective,
conflict can be analyzed at a number of different levels, which, though differing in
complexity, can have underlying similarities. "Whether we are dealing with interpersonal, community, ethnic [or] international
relations, we are dealing with the same ontological needs of people, requiring the
same processes of conflict resolution" (Burton, 1991, p. 63). Systematic research on
conflict and its resolution has occurred at
all levels but most has focused on organizational settings (especially relating to industrial relations), international conflicts, and
more recently interpersonal conflicts and
disputes (e.g., neighborhood disputes, marital conflict). As research develops in these
separate streams, further studies will be
needed to check the assumption of the invariance of processes across fields. The variety of terms deriving from different approaches can be confusing.

THE PRINCIPLES
OF CONFLICT RESOLUTION
Four basic principles underlie most approaches to conflict resolution: (1) conflict
resolution is a cooperative endeavor, (2)
the solutions sought are integrative ones,
(3) the foundation is an understanding of
all parties' interests, and (4) both the
process and its outcome are nonviolent We
will discuss each of these principles, illustrating both the principles and the practice
of conflict resolution, using the following
scenario:
Mark, Tran, Saida, and Jane are students
who share a house. They each have their

Conflict Resolution: Theoretical and Practical Issues
own room, which includes a desk and study
area, but have a communal lounge room,
kitchen, and bathroom. One evening Mark
asks his new girlfriend, Tracy, whom he
wants to impress, home for an evening meal.
Unfortunately the kitchen is very untidy.
There are unwashed dishes piled high in the
sink. A distasteful fishy odor emanates from
the trash, which has not been emptied for
some time. The refrigerator needs defrosting and is stuffed full of food which is past
its recommended "use by· date. Mark is
embarrassed, and Tracy suggests they go out
to eat

Cooperation
A key feature of conflict resolution is the
focus on cooperation rather than competition. The parties see the problem facing
them as one on which they can collaborate
to find a solution that suits them both. In
our scenario, it is apparent that to make
their living arrangements work, the students
will need to cooperate. If in his anger Mark
uses hostile strategies, he may well evoke
hostility from the others.

Integrative Solutions
Follett (1940) first referred to the search for
integrative solutions, that is, solutions which
meet the interests and needs of all parties,
by offering a personal anecdote. She and
another woman disagreed about whether to
open or close a window. The compromise
solution, that is, having it half open, would
satisfy neither of them. Eventually they discovered that one wanted the window open
to increase the fresh air, while the other
wanted it closed to prevent a draught, which
led to the cooperative, integrative or "winwin" solution of opening a window in an adjoining room. This notion was later elaborated as integrative bargaining by Walton
and McKersie (1965)-the process by which
parties attempt to explore options to in-

195

crease the size of the joint gain without respect to the division of payoffs.
When thinking about the solutions to the
problem, Mark should not think only of
compromises, such as agreeing that the
dishes are to be washed every second day. By
enlisting the support of the others and approaching the conflict with an open mind, a
more creative solution might be found.
Integrative bargaining most commonly
occurs either as a direct negotiation between
the parties in conflict, or through mediation
where a neutral third party is brought in to
facilitate the process. Of course negotiators
are often motivated to achieve a solution
where they "win" and the other party "loses"
(win-lose, zero sum, or distributive negotiations), but the term conflict resolution normally covers only negotiations where the
goal is an integrative (or win-win) solution.
While it is possible to think of other strategies for conflict resolution, mediation and
integrative negotiation are the most often
used and will be the main foci of discussion
here.
Although an issue such as household chores
would as a rule be a matter for negotiation,
there might be instances where mediation is
caJIed for. If, for example, there is a history
of disputes in the group, the students could
decide to ask a mutual friend to act as a
third party during discussions.
To help clarify what is distinctive about
the cooperative, integrative process of problem.solving which characterizes conflict resolution, it may be useful to contrast it with
two other approaches: a rights-based approach and a power-based approach (Uryet
aI., 1989; Wertheim et al., 1998). In the
rights-based approach, decisions are made
by reference to legal rules. Such methods
include formally taking the conflict to a
court oflaw for judgement, or referring it to
an arbitrator who has the power to impose a

196
decision. Infonnally, a rights-based approach might consist of arguing for a favored position because "it is my right." In
each case, the conflict is set up so a party either wins or loses the case, constructing a
win-lose situation.
Mark might assert his right to be able to
bring a friend home without feeling embarrassed, or find out whose turn it was to wash
the dishes so as to argue that he or she is at
fault Or he might argue that a lack of hygiene is wrong, and so on. We might well
sympathize with him and think he has a
point but would the other students think so?
Would this approach motivate the other students to take responsibility for finding a cooperative solution? Or would it begin an argument about the rights and wrongs of the
situation?

An important distinction between a cooperative and a rights-based approach is in
tenns of the location of control: control for
defining the problem, for detennining the
process and for reaching the solution. In a
rights-based approach, definition of the
issue(s) to be decided, the process of reaching settlement, and the solution are all in
the hands of the arbitrator. In contrast, in
cooperative negotiation, the control lies entirely with the parties themselves. They decide how to define the conflict, detennine
how, where, when and how often negotiations should take place, and mutually agree
upon the final solution. In mediation, although the neutral third party controls the
process, the definition of the conflict and
the finding of a solution are still largely in
the hands of the parties themselves.
In the power-based approach to conflict, a party attempts to resolve the conflict
in its own favor through assertion of power
over the other party. The source of power,
and how it is used, will vary from one context to another. For example, it may be military or economic power in international

Peacemaking

contexts, the power to "hire and fire" in organizational settings, or physical strength or
emotional coercion in interpersonal conflicts. Violence, domination, oppression,
and exploitation, the abuses mentioned in
our definition of peace psychology, might
be seen as abuses of power over others. Conflict resolution not only argues specifically
against these abuses but more fundamentally rejects the use of power as an approach
to conflict.
In his initial anger Mark might well use
a power-based approach.
He could yell at Jane, threaten to say insulting things about Tran to Tran's girlfriend,
slam doors, tip the rubbish into Saida's bedroom, and the like.

An Interest-based Approach
In both rights-based and power-based methods, each party assumes that they know what
is the "best" or "winning" solution for them.
The process of resolution revolves around
each party trying to impose its solution or
position on the other party. However, these
positions are only one possible solution. Positional bargaining locks both parties into
contemplation of only their opposing positions, discourages any analysis of underlying
issues, and discourages the emergence of
more creative solutions. The best solution
that can be hoped for is a compromise between each party's initial positions.
In contrast, conflict resolution approaches focus on the deeper issues or interests underlying the conflict, pursuing a
new and creative solution that is better than
either of the parties' initial positions. This is
known as an interest-based approach. The underlying interests behind a conflict can include needs, wants, fears and concerns, and
emerge through a process of "unpacking"
the conflict and each party's initial positions.

Conflict Resolution: Theoretical and Practical Issues

Dry, Brett and Goldberg (1989) argue
persuasively that the costs of using powerand rights-based methods for resolving conflicts are high, and the probability of achieving a lasting settlement is low. Rights-based
approaches typically entail high financial
and time-related costs, since they tend to involve legal processes, and they impose significant emotional strains on participants.
Because the conflict tends to be narrowly
defined in legalistic terms, underlying issues
are unlikely to be dealt with, and, because
the solution is imposed by a third party and
is typically distributive (win-lose) in form, at
least one of the parties is likely to be unhappy with the solution and eager to reopen the conflict at a later date. The costs
of using power-based methods are also typically high in both financial and emotional
terms, and the process tends to be protracted in terms of time. In the worst case,
of course, they are expensive also in terms
of loss of life, property, and environmental
damage, as well as injuring innocent third
parties.
In contrast, the process of working together on the problem, exploring underlying interests and finding a solution which
meets both parties' main interests involves
little or no financial cost, less emotional
cost, and tends to take less time than
the other approaches. Further, it often
strengthens rather than damages relationships, and, since it deals with the underlying
sources of the conflict, it is likely to result in
a long-lasting agreement that is satisfactory
to both parties. Dry et al. (1989) conclude
that, "in general, it is less costly and more
rewarding to focus on interests than to
focus on rights, which in tum is less costly
and more rewarding than to focus on
power" (p.169).
A commitment to interest-based methods does not imply that rights are irrelevant.
Rights-based procedures may sometimes be

197

preferable, from an individual and/or societal perspective, on matters of principle.
For example, the 1992 "Mabo" Australian
High Court decision granting land rights to
the traditional owners of Murray Island effectively overturned the doctrine of "terra
nullius" ("empty land") which had previously been used to justify denial of land
rights to Australian indigenous people
(Pearson, 1996). This legal decision had
greater weight of authority than a negotiated agreement between the government
and the Murray Islanders, as well as going
beyond this particular case to have deep significance for all of Australia.

Nonviolence
Implicit in the discussion thus far is another
key principle underlying conflict resolution:
a commitment to the values of peace and
nonviolence. Although one commonly talks
about "conflict resolution," what is usually
implicit is more fully expressed as "nonviolent conflict resolution." "Resolving" a conflict through the use of arms, for example, is
not considered a form of conflict resolution.
Extensive bodies of literature on violence, for example in psychology, criminology, and law, can inform our thinking
about the nature and incidence of violence
and how it might be prevented or responded to. The peace theorist Johan Galtung (1969; see also Galtung & Tschudi in
this volume) suggests that violence is a
structural phenomenon, a feature of social
arrangements characterized by dominance,
oppression, exploitation, and exclusion.
Recognizing the structural nature of violence, a major feature of this volume,
brings into focus the importance of attending to patterns of inequality such as gender,
class, and race. Processes which settle immediate problems but serve, in the longer
term, to erode human rights, may appear

198
efficient but would not be considered conflict resolution.

FROM PRINCIPLES TO PRACTICE
As a way of showing how the basic principles
articulated above can be put into practice in
the resolution of conflicts, we present here
one model of interest-based conflict resolution. The model depicts certain key stages
in the interest-based approach to conflict
resolution that merit elaboration.! The
basic model is represented in Figure 17.l.
The feedback loops should be noted.

Building a Cooperative Orientation
Because cooperation is a key feature of conflict resolution, a preliminary task before
commencing negotiation (or mediation) is
to ensure that parties are in a frame of
mind to work together for an integrative solution. According to the dual-concern model
(Ruble & Thomas, 1976; Lewicki et al.,
1992), not all orientations to conflicts lean
towards integrative solutions. An individualistic orientation (exclusive concern with
one's own outcomes), an altruistic orientation (exclusive concern for the other party's
outcomes) or a competitive orientation
(characterized by a desire to do better than
other party) are mismatched with the
search for integrative solutions. A cooperative orientation (concern for both outcomes) is needed.

IThe model is based on the work of Psychologists for
the Promotion of World Peace, an interest group of
the Australian Psychological Society and Wertheim and
her colleagues (Wertheim et al., 1998) who were in
tum inspired by the Harvard Negotiation Project approach (Fisher & Ury, 1996). Our model contains
some modifications, extensions. and variations in emphasis based upon our practical experience in conflict
resolution in the Asia Pacific region.

Peacemaking

Most negotiators enter negotiation believing one party will win, the other lose,
and fail to notice integrative possibilities
(Thompson, 1990). To build win-win expectancies, negotiators are encouraged to
view conflict as normal, inevitable, and solvable, with the viewpoint that it is possible
and preferable for all parties to "win." They
should note that initial cooperative moves
by one party help induce cooperation from
the other party, in line with Deutsch's
(1973) "crude law of social relations": Competition leads to more competition; cooperation leads to more cooperation.
To build a cooperative orientation Mark
could begin by resisting the temptation to
yell at his housemates and organize a time
for them to talk about the situation. In introducing the issue, he could use language
which emphasizes the belief that a mutually
satisfactory outcome can be found. For example, rather than talking about "my girlfriend" he could talk about "our visitors."

Active Listening for Interests
An interest-based approach requires that

both parties are willing and able to take the
perspective of the other party, and this requires careful listening. As noted above,
most parties enter a dispute or conflict with
a position, their desired outcome for the
conflict. In the conflict resolution process,
these "positions" in the conflict are first acknowledged, but then the interests underlying those positions are explored (Burton,
1987; Fisher & Dry, 1996). Good active listening skills, involving empathy, reflection,
summarizing, and attentive body language
(Bolton, 1992), are needed by the "listening" party in order to help the other party
articulate the interests involved and to recognize that they have been heard.

199

Conflict Resolution: Theoretical and Practical Issues

I------i~

Develop expectancies
for integrative
solutions

Understand

Understand

Handle emotions

Develop your
best alternative
to negotiated
agreement (BATNA)

Redefine remaining
disagreements .....r-:-:.=....<

Retreat to your
BATNA

Yes

JOintly acknowledge
the agreement

Figure 17.1 F10wchart of the conflict resolution process. Adapted
from Littlefield eta!. (1993, p. 81).

Peacemaking

200
Before he can find a solution, Mark needs
more information. Active listening will help
him answer questions such as the following:
How do the others feel about the state of
the kitchen? What are their needs? Perhaps
some members of the group feel that they
have in the past done all the work and have
given up trying.

Analysis and Communication
of One's Own Needs
The initial impetus to use a conflict resolution approach often comes from one party,
and there is a good chance the second party
may not be a skilled active listener. Thus, the
first party will need to articulate its interests
without relying on help from the second
party. Communicating one's own interests
requires some careful thinking and analysis
of one's own interests, often better done in
advance. To avoid blaming or criticism of the
other party, it is often helpful to use "1 statements" ("One thing 1 want/need is .. .", "1
am worried about ... "), which focus attention on the interests involved, rather than
"you" statements ("You always/never ... "),
which can produce defensiveness. Because
high information exchange promotes the development of integrative solutions (Carnevale & Pruitt, 1992), parties are encouraged
to be as open as possible.
Mark needs to analyze and communicate
his own needs. For example he might say, "I
was embarrassed when Tracy came into the
kitchen. I'm afraid that she won't go out
with me again. There were unwashed dishes
piled high in the sink, a smell from the
trash, and the 'fridge was full of old food. 1
want to be able to bring people home and
have a relaxed time with them in pleasant
surroundings. "

Brainstorming
A basic assumption of a conflict resolution
approach is that the optimal solution is cre-

ated from a consideration of both sets of interests. Further, joint ownership of the solution leads to more satisfaction with it
(Wertheim et al., 1998). A joint creative
problem-solving process is therefore recommended. Mter both parties' interests have
been identified and listed, they are encouraged to generate as many creative options
for resolving the conflict as possible, using
brainstorming principles (Burton, 1987) .
This requires creativity, flexibility, and
openness of thinking. D'Zurilla (1988)
identified three principles for generating
creative options: deferrment of judgment
(to prevent premature rejection, to protect
the relationship between parties, and because even poor-quality ideas can stimulate
better ones); quantity (because later ideas
tend to include those of higher quality);
and variety. Therefore, parties are instructed to devise as many ideas as possible,
including wild and humorous ones, without
evaluating or criticizing any. Brainstorming
should not stop wItil each interest has been
addressed in at least one brainstormed idea.
Some of the ideas that the group might
brainstorm are: schedule roster turns at hous~
work, 'use paper plates, buy better rubbish bins,
hire someone to clean up the house, and decide to
/earn to live with the mess.

The Role of Emotions
Many authors have noted that emotions play
a central role in problem-solving and conflict resolution, with the potential to derail
the process at any stage (D'Zurilla, 1988).
However, as Littlefield et al. (1993) note,
little attention has been given to the specific ways in which emotions affect the conflict resolution process. Several authors
(e.g., Fisher & Dry, 1996) appear to adopt a
"hydraulic theory" of emotions, in which
feelings "build up," creating pressure or
tension which needs to be released or

Conflict Resolution: Theoretical and Practical Issues

vented. They therefore advocate giving parties the opportunity to "vent" before proceeding with negotiations. Others (e.g.,
Wertheim et al., 1998) point out that negative emotions (hurt, anger, depression,
fear, anxiety) tend to fix attention on the
people involved instead of on the problem
and its solution, and therefore they should
be controlled and expressed only in a responsible manner.
Mark might tell himself to stay calm and not
get too angry. Sharing his sense of wlnerability and insecurity, and his need to impress
his girlfriend, is likely to elicit empathy
and cooperation from the others whereas
anger and blame might provoke a hostile
response.

While strong emotions can disrupt the
conflict resolution process, the expression
of emotion may provide valuable information about a person's inner state. Recognizing the emotional signals can help parties
come to an understanding of the conflict
and the interests behind it. Acknowledging
feelings is a crucial part of active listening; if
only "facts" are heard, the speaker rarely
feels fully understood. Feeling may also play
a more positive role. Feelings of hope, trust,
and goodwill, for example, are assets.
Therefore, listening for feelings, acknowledging them, and encouraging their responsible expression is desirable.

Creating Solutions
The final stage involves combining those
options which meet the key interests of the
parties into integrative or win-win solutions.
Forming multiple solutions increase the
likelihood that one acceptable to everyone
will be found. This stage requires a more
disciplined and logical form of problemsolving. Fisher and Dry (1996), Pruitt and
Rubin (1986), and Wertheim et al. (1998)
have all suggested various strategies for find-

201

ing integrative solutions, for example:
bridging solutions, which go beyond the
original positions of the parties to find new
solutions; "expanding the pie" where the
apparendy limited resource "pie" can be
"expanded" by including other previously
unconsidered resources; cost-cutting to
limit the costs of the party who is achieving
less; compensation by providing another
valued outcome for the "losing" party; and
log-rolling, where each party concedes on
their lesser-valued issues. If an integrative
solution cannot be found, it may be necessary to loop back to previous stages, e.g., to
see if some key interests were not identified.
The group might decide to have ajob roster
(with the consequences of failure to meet
responsibilities clearly understood) as a
long-term solution. In the meantime, they
may decide to have a meal together once a
week during which they can discuss problems before they reach frustrating levels.
In terms of the positive value of conflict, they might have discovered that one of
the students has an under-recognized culinary talent, or knows of cheaper vegetable
markets. Through the process of solving
their problem together, their relationships
might be strengthened.

The Role of Best Alternatives to a
Negotiated Agreement (BATNAs)
Despite good intentions, negotiations do
not always lead to mutually acceptable solutions. Fisher and Ury (1990) recommend
considering in advance what to do if negotiations fail, by developing a "best alternative
to a negotiated agreement" or BATNA. A
BATNA is the best solution the party can
develop which does not rely on any cooperation from the other party, and it is developed using very similar methods to reaching a win-win solution except that it is done
alone (or with someone other than the
other party). As Wertheim et al. (1998)

202
note, focusing on your BATNA involves
shifting from an integrative, cooperative
frame of mind to a distributive, competitive
one, and may therefore slow or stop
progress on the conflict resolution process.
We think a BATNA should not be formulated as a routine precaution, but only when
serious difficulties in the negotiations suggest it is needed.
Mark might decide that if the group cannot
arrive at a fair system for doing the chores
then he would be better off to move out
Thus his BATNA is to find new accommodations.

Mediation: The Role of Third Parties
The model in Figure 17.1 is designed principally for negotiation between two or more
parties. However, many of the processes
apply equally to mediation, where a neutral
third party is involved, controlling the
process but not the content or the outcome
of the negotiation. Carnevale and Pruitt
(1992) note that mediation involves identifying issues; uncovering underlying interests
and concerns; setting an agenda; packaging;
sequencing; and prioritizing issues; interpreting and shaping proposals; and making
suggestions for possible settlement.
The presence of a mediator can serve
several useful purposes: The mediator can
encourage and model active listening for
the identification of interests; reduce the
level of tension between parties; keep the
negotiation focused without side-tracking
caused by parties' inexperience with negotiation, high emotions, or their other agendas coming into play. A mediator can also
promote early agreements on simple issues
to increase momentum, help parties save
face when conceding, and advance a proposal which would be rejected if it came
from the other party. In cross-cultural conflicts, the mediator can act as a cultural in-

Peacemaking

terpreter, explaining the cultural meanings
of behavior to the other party (Cohen,
1996). For example, during the war that we
call the Vietnam War (the one that the Vietnamese call the American War), Americans
particularly resented the fact that Vietnamese witnesses to physical abuse and tOfture might respond with laughter. This was
seen as proof of their callous attitudes.
Someone who has spent time with Vietnamese people could explain that fear, embarrassment, and helplessness might evoke
a Ilervous giggle. A mediator could suggest
to a party that he Of she should keep an
open mind as to the meaning of the other's
laughter; that while it may signal amusement, it may also signal fear.
Reviews of research on mediation suggest that when it is effective, participants are
usually satisfied, and compliance with the
agreed solution is usually high. As would be
expected, characteristics of the conflict, the
parties, and the mediator all influence effectiveness (Carnevale & Pruitt, 1992). Mediation is more effective when conflict is
moderate rather than intense, when the issues don't involve general principles, and
where there is not a severe resource shortage. It is more successful when parties are
highly motivated to reach a resolution, are
committed to mediation, trust the mediator, and are relatively equal in power. It
helps if parties have positive working relationships and a sense of mutual dependence. In terms of mediator characteristics,
use of a friendly style, perceived neutrality,
and perceived power, which sometimes
stems from reputation and authority, also
influence effectiveness.

Dealing with Difficulties
Using Deutsch's crude law it could be assumed that the other party to a negotiation
or mediation would follow the example of

Conflict Resolution: Theoretical and Practical Issues

the person initiating the conflict resolution
process and act cooperatively in the search
for an integrative solution. However, in
practice the other party may not be committed to integrative negotiation, or may start
cooperatively but revert to power-based
methods when the going gets tough. For instance, the party may use threats, personal
attacks, inaccurate information, and avoidance, or revert to positional bargaining. A
variety of approaches have been suggested
for dealing with these situations (see Fisher
& Ury, 1996; Wertheim et aI., 1998). Space
precludes a detailed description of these
here.
If the characters in our scenario are going to

use attacks, inaccurate infonnation, and
other "dirty tricks," it is likely that any problem that comes up will be difficult to deal
with and the group will find it difficult to
stay together for very long. However, if one
of them "names the game" when dirty tricks
are used, or notes that the discussion has
drifted off course and attempts to get the
negotiation back on track, they may have
more success.

Other Models and Perspectives
There are multiple models of conflict and
conflict resolution. Even within the domain
of organizational conflict, Lewicki, Weiss,
and Lewin (1992) identified 44 major models of conflict, negotiation, and third-party
processes (e.g., mediation and arbitration).
They note that the emphasis in the field has
been on creating models rather than the
equally important task of evaluating them,
with the result that no models have received
definitive empirical support. Models are either descriptive (how negotiators actually
behave) or prescriptive (such as the one
outlined above, articulating how to go
about the process). Among prescriptive
models, some are distributive (how to maxi-

203

mize your own gains), others integrative. To
give a flavor of the alternatives available, we
briefly outline five other prescriptive integrative models, each of which has been
shown to be useful in at least some contexts.
Since they all adhere to the basic principles
described earlier, there are many similarities among them, with differences often
being more in emphasis than in actual content or practice.
Fisher and Dry's (1996) much-used
principled negotiation model involves a fourfold approach, the first three of which are
common to the model described above:
Separate the people from the problem;
focus on interests; and invent options for
mutual gain. The fourth aspect is the one
which gives this model its name: Insist on
objective criteria to judge solutions. Objective criteria seem to fall into two groups:
rules about how to distribute resources (on
the basis of equality, equity, need, etc.) and
those about procedures for decision-making
(using precedent, flipping a coin, etc.). Littlefield et al. (1993) note that the use of
these criteria is more akin to a rights-based
approach. Too much emphasis on objective
criteria carries the danger of deflecting parties from problem-solving based on interests. It is often possible, however, to incorporate principles or objective criteria into
conflict resolution by considering them as
legitimate interests which need to be met
(e.g., "I am concerned that we use principles of equity in deciding on a solution.")
Pruitt and Rubin's (1986) creative problem-solving model is distinguished by setting
reasonably high aspirations for one's own
gains in the resolution of a conflict, and
pursuing these with firmness and commitment. Carnevale and Pruitt (1992) similarly
emphasize the need for high aspirations.
They argue that effective problem-solving
requires negotiators to be both firm and
flexible. If both parties are afraid of conflict

204
and therefore not firm, research has shown
they achieve lower joint benefit in their solutions. But flexibility is needed about the
means to achieve these interests, seeking
options which are acceptable to the other
party as well as oneself.
Three workers have developed models
of conflict resolution which are specifically
applicable to large-scale conflicts. Burton's
(1987) frroblem-solving conflict resolution model
has been applied principally to deeply
rooted conflicts such as the intra-state conflicts in South Mrica and Fiji. It starts with
carefully analyzing parties and issues. Then
the parties are brought into a facilitated interactive situation in which relationships
are analyzed in depth, without entertaining
proposals or engaging in bargaining or negotiation. When there is an agreed definition of the problem, exploration of possible
options begins. "Controlled communication," a form of abstract problem-solving in
which groups meet in private to discuss
conflict analytically, is intended to correct
misperceptions and thus improve communication.
Kelman's frroblem-solving warkshops (e.g.,
Kelman, 1997) were developed particularly
to address the inter-ethnic conflict in IsraelPalestine. The workshops provide a setting
where processes central to conflict resolution such as empathy, insight, creative problem-solving, and learning can take place.
The workshops involve politically involved
but unofficial representatives of the conflicting parties, take place under academic auspices and are facilitated by social scientists
knowledgeable about the conflict, groups/
cultures involved, and group process.
Briefly, the process is, first, to understand
and acknowledge both sets of concerns,
then to engage in joint problem-solving to
develop new ideas for resolving the conflict
that would satisfy fundamental needs and
allay fears of both parties.

Peacemaking

Ronald Fisher (1994) has also focused
on ethnic conflict, particularly in Cyprus,
Canada, and New Zealand. For him, conflict
resolution refers to the transfrmnation of a
mutually destructive situation to one that is
"self-supporting, self-correcting and sustainable for the foreseeable future" (p. 59). He
focuses on peace building as an important
bridge between peacekeeping and peacemaking. His five goals for conflict resolution
are based on humanistic and democratic
values: Conflict resolution must transform
conflicts in an enduring way (not simply settle disputes or suppress differences); it
should use a range of complementary methods suitable to the particular issues; it must
address basic human needs and build sustainable relationships between groups; it
must be infused into decision making and
policy making processes to prevent the
causes and escalation of destructive conflict;
and it must create social structures involving
equity among groups.
A variety of other approaches to conflict
resolution rely on creativity. Such workers as
Boulding (1983) and Macy (1983) stress
creative problem-solving and creative thinking, using creative visualization, diagramming, movement and role-playing, to address conflict in environmental, peace and
feminist contexts. Fogg (1985) presents a
wide array of potentially integrative, effective, and creative nonviolent strategies that
can be used in diverse situations.
This brief overview makes apparent the
extensive overlap among models. Kelman
(1997) summarized the situation by pointing out that, despite the diversity in levels
and domains of conflict, and in the intellectual origins of the models, certain common
insights and approaches to practice emerge:
a non-adversarial, cooperative framework;
an analytic approach; a problem-solving orientation directed towards an integrative solution; direct participation of the parties in-

Conflict Resolution: Theoretical and Practical Issues

volved in shaping a solution; and (sometimes) facilitation by a trained third party.

CULTURE: AN ISSUE IN APPLYING
CONFLICT RESOLUTION MODELS
It can be argued that models of conflict resolution share common assumptions because
they share a common cultural derivation. Lewicki et al. (1992) note that common assumptions underlie most descriptive
and prescriptive models. For example, researchers share the idea that conflict originates from a variety of sources, follows a
predictable course, is manifested in many
ways and may have positive and negative
consequences. Most assume that all types of
problems are negotiable and all parties
want and are able to negotiate. The literature assumes that there is a definitive way to
negotiate well. Responses to conflict are dichotomized into either distributive (winlose) or integrative (win-win) types, ignoring the possibility of a mix. Models tend to
be for two parties, with statements about
multilateral negotiations being simplistically
extrapolated from bilateral negotiations.
These common assumptions may well
reflect a view of knowledge that is Westernized. Most models of conflict resolution
have been developed in North America and
might be expected to reflect the values and
norms of the culture from which they are
derived. The tendency to dichotomize, objectify and deal rationally with problems inherent in the conflict resolution literature
might be seen as reflecting a monocultural
view.
The fact that cultural variation has been
neglected is reflected in Carnevale and
Pruitt's (1992) review which has only one
paragraph on cultural differences in negotiation behavior and preferences for dispute
resolution procedures, plus a discussion
concluding that laws governing negotiation

205

are different under individualistic and cooperative orientations. Kimmel (1994) critiques conflict resolution approaches and
notes the lack of awareness of intercultural
differences and objectives.
Research on the relationship between
culture and conflict tends to be oriented toward managing difference. The work of
Hofstede (1989, 1994; see also Pedersen,
this volume) who categorizes cultures on
four dimensions-colLectivism-individualism,
masculinity-femininity, power distance, and
uncertainty avoidance-has been influential. Different cultures can be empirically investigated as to their preference for conflict
resolution style (e.g., Fletcher, Olekalns &
De Cieri, 1998). A shortcoming of the cultural difference approach though, is that it
could unwittingly reinforce stereotypes. The
Chinese, for example, might be stereotyped
as being compliant because they are from a
power-distant culture. An Asian researcher
would not only be aware of the individual
and situational variability in degree of compliance in the face of conflict but also view
the Chinese response as normal civilized behavior. The more direct and assertive response recommended in prescriptive conflict resolution models may seem downright
rude.
It is informative to see culture as a
process which guides and shapes our viewpoints. Encounters with a different culture
present an opportunity to examine our own
hitherto unchallenged cognitions. Because
culture is a framework "for shaping and
guiding the thoughts, the actions, the practices as well as the creativity of its members"
(Komin, 1991, p. 17), cultural groups tend
to share perceptions in a way that does not
lead to critical self-reflection.
Hall (1959) describes cultural activities
as existing on three levels: formal, informal,
and technical. Formal cultural activities are
based in tradition, are learnt from early

208
childhood and over time come to be seen as
natural and admitting no possible alternative: A taboo is either kept or broken. It is
very important to be aware of the strength
and relevance of cultural differences in this
domain. We have been to conflict resolution conferences when these taboos are broken. For example, the serving of roast suckling pig at the opening ceremony of an
Asian Conflict Resolution Conference was
offensive to many participants whose religions forbade pork. On another occasion,
despite careful negotiation with catering
staff to avoid serving alcohol when Muslim
participants were attending, the after-dinner chocolates contained alcoholic liqueur
fillings. There are myriad ways in which a
visiting Western mediator might unwittingly
be discourteous in South East Asia, such as
patting people on the head, sitting barefoot
so one's soles are pointed towards the Buddha, touching a Muslim with the left hand,
or (if the mediator is female) passing an article to a monk.
Informal cultural learning takes place
through imitation. Whole clusters of behavior are learned at one time, often without
awareness that learning is taking place or
that there are patterns or rules operating.
However, if the tacit rules are breached, discomfort and anxiety may result Much of
our conflict resolution behavior can be
learnt in this way, through interactions at
home, at school, or in the workplace. Conflict resolution courses can capitalize on this
type of learning by using stories drawn from
people's lives, role plays, and other techniques that draw from the participants
themselves how they deal with conflict in
real life situations.
Technical learning is transmitted in explicit terms from the teacher to the student
and is characterized by the suppression of
feeling, since emotion tends to interfere
with effective functioning at this leveL Tech-

Peacemaking

nical changes are specific, readily observed,
talked about and transmitted to others. It is
easy for conflict resolution courses and
models of negotiation and mediation to
focus at this level and to neglect the importance of the other forms of learning.
Technical skills and knowledge as a negotiator, mediator or conflict resolution
trainer are not sufficient preparation for
working in other cultures. Each step of the
conflict resolution process is shaped by
cultural knowledge that is not necessarily
conscious. Even to define a situation as a
"conflict" represents a cultural framing.
For example, there is no Indonesian word
that means conflict, whereas the Chinese
would use different words to describe family
conflict and national conflict. Let us look at
several common conflict resolution techniques.
The use of active listening to uncover
feelings or concerns presupposes an ability
and wish to directly articulate issues which
may nonnally be dealt with in more tacit
and indirect ways within that culture. For
example, Sri Lankan people we have
worked with prefer to show their concern
through bringing special teas or foods
rather than saying, "I care about you." One
woman commented that the banning of
English had a strong impact on her bilingual family because her adolescent children
always discussed their relationships in English, since Sinhala lacked the vocabulary for
such conversations.
Expressing your own interests on your
own behalf may seem to violate cultural
sanctions against selfishness. For example,
Confucian-influenced cultures exhort people to think more of the harmony of the
group and less of individualistic concerns.
In such cultures, delicate hints may be used
to convey one's real wishes, hints which may
be lost on a Westerner who is not attuned to
picking them up.

Conflict Resolution: Theoretical and Practical Issues

Brainstorming creative options or packaging workable solutions will not come easily in cultures that emphasize the need to
refer problems to the appropriate authority.
Different cultures may have different
understanding of key concepts such as confidentiality and neutrality. An example of
such a misunderstanding occurred in Australia when an (Anglo) mediator who had
agreed to keep certain issues confidential
found himself in a group situation where it
became clear that everyone in the (Aboriginal) group knew about these matters. He assumed the need to keep silent no longer
held and joined in the conversation. His
Aboriginal clients were deeply shocked, felt
betrayed and insisted he be taken off the
case. For them confidentiality has to do with
who is empowered to speak about particular
matters. The fact that the matters were
known did not give him the right to talk
about them.
The notion of neutrality may be also be
relatively culturally specific. For example,
every Aboriginal person belongs to a web of
relationships, and every dispute affects the
community. Any Aboriginal mediator can
thus be seen as an involved insider, rather
than an impartial outsider, though of
course greater and lesser degrees of distance can be apportioned.
The point we wish to make here is that
experience and familiarity with the culture
are important There is a risk that visiting
experts in negotiation or mediation will
have insufficient knowledge of the formal
and informal cultural domains. They will
then interpret the behavior of the parties in
terms of their limited experience. We need
to be very careful in applying prescriptive
models across cultures, to remain open to
learning from the other and to be prepared
to undertake much more research into how
other cultures do actually resolve conflicts.
As Tjosvold (1998) points out, "In addition

207

to the present need to manage conflict
across cultures, studying conflict in different contexts can challenge and refine present understanding of conflict management. Incorporating ideas and practices of
other cultures can develop more robust, elegant theories" (p. 301).

VIEWS OF KNOWLEDGE
Power, rights, and interest-based approaches to conflict draw on different views
of knowledge. Most people are used to
thinking about conflict in terms of powerbased approaches. Some have moved to a
predominantly rights-based orientation. To
teach and learn conflict resolution may demand a fundamental shift in thinking. In
this chapter we have challenged you, the
reader, to think differently: for example,
suggesting that there are not just two sides
to a question, that there may not be a right
answer, that a good solution is one which incorporates multiple partial views of reality.
In suggesting that conflict resolution approaches depend on a view of knowledge
which allows for some degree of subjectivity
we are drawing links between peace psychology and some of the traditional areas of psychology, such as "cognition" and "perception."
Power and rights-based approaches are
objective. Power-based approaches depend
on being able to collect information, analyze the sources of power and estimate the
probable consequences of strategies in a
particular context. Effective rights-based approaches necessitate the collection and
weighing of evidence in relation to a set of
rules and making judgements which take
precedent and community expectations
into account.
Effective interest-based approaches
have a subjective element and view knowledge as constructed or created. Melville

208
(1998) has drawn attention to the importance of critiques of positivist views of knowledge for conflict resolution theory and the
difficulty of determining the "facts." The
idea that knowledge has a subjective element does not mean that reality is denied,
but rather that conclusions about the nature of reality are seen as tentative working
hypotheses open to revision in the light of
new information. Good conflict resolution
practitioners recognize that knowledge is
partial, so different perceptions may be
equally valid.

FUTURE DIRECTIONS
In thinking about the applicability of conflict resolution models to the future, it is
first necessary to consider what the future
might hold. On this basis of current trends,
we might plan for a world in which there
is an increasing degree of globalization
with interdependent economic arrangements served by electronic communication
networks enabling the rapid transfer of information. We might welcome increasing
democratization among nations but see the
power of democratically-elected national
governments limited by the economic sway
of multinational businesses and the political clout of international government and
non-government organizations. In a postcolonial world we might expect diverse
voices to be raised, from people or groups
who have experience of more than one culture, from people who come from diverse
geographical regions and different social
positions. We might also anticipate the formalization of regional structures. For example, processes such as the discussion of
common values, which underpinned the
formation of the European Union, are now
taking place in the Asian region. The "realist" view of international relations which saw
nations as unitary actors negotiating bilat-

Peacemaking

eral arrangements with a view to maximizing national security and gains becomes increasingly abstracted from the living reality.
The implications of these projections
for conflict resolution are even now emerging. Currently most conflicts are intrastate
rather than between nation-states. They cut
across national lines, and have resonance
within Diaspora communities, who can keep
in touch through television, fax and Internet and playa significant role. In a talk in
Sri Lanka, Galtung (1994) pointed out that
thinking about conflict as a two-party dispute over a single issue is a conceptual oversimplification: "I know of no real life conflicts of that type. Real life conflicts have m
parties and n issues, and mn can be quite
high at times" (p. 3). As the power of nation-states declines, relative to that of intrastate and transnational bodies, the use of
power based methods becomes increasingly
difficult and less clear-cut. Thus we might
predict a move toward the greater use of
rights and interest-based methods of conflict resolution at all levels of society, from
the personal through the global.
Another way to arrive at a picture of the
future is to use visioning exercises to examine alternative possible futures. In asking
our students to undertake a meditation exercise and then to draw a picture of the future, we have found that they have a deep
concern with environmental degradation
and have fears of technology taking over
and pushing human beings out. In envisaging an ideal world students have an opportunity to form a positive image of peace and
find ways to depict harmony in human relationships and explore their own visions of
peace. This exercise of imagination points
to di~unction between our model of conflict resolution and the future our students
envisage. Conflict resolution models can be
very abstract and might be used without locating parties in a physical environment.

Conflict Resolution: Theoretical and Practical Issues

For example, the assumption that negotiation occurs indoors is captured by the
phrase "putting issues on the table," whereas
Aboriginal people often prefer an outdoor
setting. Further, conflict resolution approaches can be very task-oriented and
"business like." They can view people as possessors of problems to be resolved rather
than as entities who feel fear and hope, who
have dreams and visions. People from a
number of cultures that give a higher priority to spiritual issues, and the role of ceremony in their indigenous conflict resolution systems, make a similar critique.
To meet the challenge posed by the future, peace psychologists need to develop
more sophisticated models of analyzing conflict to recognize its multilevel and multiparty nature. We have suggested that there
is a need to more clearly articulate the role
that conflict resolution has in sustaining interdependent relationships. We have indicated that there is a need for research into
multiple perspective taking and the development of multiple, flexible, fluid identities

209

which link us not only with human groups
but also with the natural environment. In
doing this there are opportunities to learn
from other cultures. There is also a need to
reconcile ourselves with feelings, and see
them not only as possible obstacles to a conflict resolution process, but also as an integral part of humanity and a valuable human
resource. Cognitively the demand for flexibility and creativity, for working in teams
and learning from others, suggests the need
to develop a different view of what intelligence is. Research into the use of communication technology to improve conflict resolution processes should also be a high
priority. There is much that already exists
within psychology which is not currently
seen as connected to conflict resolution, but
that can be of value in developing more sophisticated models. Thus a research agenda
for the future will involve us not only reaching out to disciplines other than psychology
but also in grounding our work in a deeper
critical understanding of, and central connection with, our own.

CHAPTER 18

CRAFTING PEACE:
ON THE PSYCHOLOGY OF THE
TRANSCEND ApPROACH
Johan Galtung and Finn Tschudi

INTRODUCTION: SOME
BASIC ASSUMPTIONS
Conflict is ubiquitous, violence is not.
Hence the Big Question: How can we approach conflict in a nonviolent way? Here is
one trend of thought, a trail of ideas, suggesting one answer:

1. The root of a conflict is incompatible
goals, within an actor (dilemmas) , among
actors (disputes), or (usually) both.
2. The conflict appears to the parties as a
block: Something stands in the way of
attaining goals; their other goals and/
or the goals of other parties. Other
term: knot.

3. Blocked goal-attainment is also known
as frustration, but the range of reactions go beyond aggression,! and include: A: attitudes, cognitive and emotive; ranging from glowing hatred of
Self or Other to denial, from inner boiling to inner freezing. B: behavior, physical and verbal; ranging from deliberate
efforts to hurt and harm Self or Other
to withdrawal, ranging from outer boiling to outer freezing.
4. The inner and outer reactions are not
necessarily at the same temperature
(murder in cold blood, "boiling inside").
5. We then add C: contradi·ction, the root
incompatibility of goals, and get the

Note: Johan Galtung's writing is difficult to understand and challenging for those who are new to his work. His writing often does not fit into the usual academic mainstream and many of his ideas are very original. The rewards are
great for those who are patient and grapple with his ideas. More information about the TRANSCEND method can be
found at the website: http://www.transcend.org/

210

Crafting Peace: On the Psychology of the TRANSCEND Approach

conflict triangle, the three comers
being A, B, and C, for attitudes, behavior, and contradiction. Causal flows can
start anywhere, but generally in C, the
contradiction.
6. A contradiction left unresolved leads to
accumulation of negative energies in
the A and B comers: to violence ("war"
for collective actors) sustained by genuine hatred; to mutual isolation sustained by apathy; to the self-hatred of
nations that have suffered major trauma,
including being defeated, like Jews,
Germans, Japanese after World War II
(Serbs? Iraqis?).
7. From the root conflict the conflict has
now spread, metastasized, to the A and
B comers as people react to having
their needs insulted by hatred and violence. Parties and media will focus on
the meta-conflicts built around being
hated and/or hurt and harmed; they
are much more dramatic, newsworthy.
Thus, in an unpublished study for his
master's thesis Dylan Scudder reports
that the International Herald Tribune for
July 1998 had 44 reports on violence in
Kosovo and two on possible solutions.
This also plays into a tendency to psychologize the conflict, focusing on A,
cognitions/ emotions of the actors, and
not on C. 2
8. A focus on violence, "troubles," is often
accompanied by inability to explore the
root problems veiled in taboos. Efforts
to break the taboos are strongly resented. The discourse permitted is
inadequate to dissolve the problem by
dialogue (dia = via, logos = word.) Violence, with its simple winner-looser
logic, is promoted by focusing on violence.
9. One basic assumption at this point
would be that people are more able to

211

discuss a root problem when they sense
a solution somewhere. A glimmer of
light at the end of the tunnel makes it
considerably more easy to admit that we
are in a tunnel. With no light, better
not mention the tunnel; truth becomes
unbearable. The all-too-human fact that
at the end of the tunnel there is another tunnel (all the way, actually) does
not make truth easier to bear, except
with some light shafts.
10. The second basic assumption is that if
we manage to develop a perspective on
a transformation of the root conflict,
then that opening in the C-comer may
drain negative energies in the A and B
comers, normalizing inner and outer
relations.
Our argument is in favor of recovering
the primacy of the root conflict, the contradiction, the incompatibility itself. To
soothen hurt egos and teach non-aggressive
behavior is good. But hard, root issues have
to be approached, coached in deep emotions, the basic one being hatred of the
other side for not "seeing the light," i.e.
yielding, and for being violent.
Three basic, and frequent, mistakes in
conflict practice follow from the failure to
take into account the whole triangle:
• The A-mistake, the liberal fallacy, focusing on attitudes only, making people
more loving (religious), aware of their
own mental baggage (psychological).
No contradiction is unravelled.
• The B-mistake, the conservative fallacy,
modifying behavior only by putting a lid
on aggressive action. No block disappears.
• The C-mistake, the Marxist fallacy, focusing only on the contradiction between
labor and capital, regardless of costs to

212
mind and body. We know what happened: The negative energies in A and
B caught up with Soviet achievements,
and destroyed them.

THE TRANSCEND DIALOGUE METHOD
FOR CONFLICT TRANSFORMATION
The method3 is based on trained conflict
workers meeting the parties in a conflict,
singly, not combined, one-on-one, typically
in a conversation-style setting. One experience4 is that high-level conflict parties are
usuaJIy intelligent, articulate, charming people, with high capacity for leadership. There
is little doubt that, by and large, they believe
what they say, and they are not posturing, at
least not after some quiet dialogue disarms
their defenses. Nor are they necessarily
longing to use violence regardless of the situation; readiness to do so is something else.
They are wedded to their positions, but not
necessarily inflexible, a characteristic they
tend to attribute to the Other. They should
not be psychiatrized, nor criminalized; they
are not sicker or more criminal than most.
The basic point is that they see no way out,
are blocked, tied up in knots partly of their
own making. The TRANSCEND method,
based on dialogues with aJI conflict parties
one at a time, is an effort to expand their spectrum of acceptable outcomes. The method is
not based on arguing positions closer to the
other parties, e.g., compromise. That they can
do themselves in a process known as negotiation. But the experience is that direct contact
may exacerbate conflicts for several reasons:
because of the verbal violence often used in
verbal encoWlters, because compromise
means accepting some of the Other, and because of the absence of creativity when Other
is present. In one-on-one conversation-style dialogues, the task is to stimulate creativity, develop new perspectives, and make the conflict
parties "ready for the table."

Peacemaking

The First Round: Five Processes
GeneraJly, the following five processes
are designed to encourage disputing parties
to refrain from calcifying their respective positions and moving them each toward new
and creative perspectives on the problem.
1. A first process will have to probe the negative goals (fears) and positive goals
(hopes), exploring beyond public posturing. Thus, Protestant fears in Northern Ireland may be less about religion
and more about "being absorbed in
tear-dripping Irish sentimentality and
emotionalism," mirrored by Catholic
fears of "cold English so-caJIed rationality"; not to mention the fears of Wlemployment (Catholic) and of being killed
(both). The positive goal is to be surrounded (and confirmed!) by one's
own kind, in a setting of economic and
physical security.
2. A second process will in no way try to dissuade the party from their goals, but
probe more deeply into the nature of
the goals. Goals are many-dimensional.
Thus, the "Korean conflict" is not only
over political-military, but also over cultural-economic issues. The broader the
vision of the goal, the more likely that
some perspective can be developed, ce-

teris paribus.
3. A third process, the kernel, will open cognitive space to new outcomes not envisioned by the parties. These outcomes
will relate to the range of goals seen by
the parties, allaying the fears, satisfying
the hopes, but from another angle. At
this stage, much creativity is needed.
This is where positive outcomes can be
enlarged by creatively arriving at positive
goals that overlap for both sides.
For example, in the conflict in and
over Korea (including the United States

Crafting Peace: On the Psychology of the TRANSCEND Approach
and neighbors), it might be useful to put
the complex and incompatible politicalmilitary goals on the sideline, and proceed from a cultural-economic angle.
There is the rich, shared Korean culture
and history. Opening rail and road lines
would unleash enormous economic potentials, connecting North Korea-ChinaVietnam with South Korea-JapanTaiwan. Military-political issues can come
later, or even better: wither away.
In another example, Northern Ireland,
a possible Uisterite identity could be built
on the richness of both cultures, being an
enclave ofhigh tech, owned by neither one
nor the other, relating positively to both
Ireland and England, to Wales and Scotland, in a process of devolution that ultimately may lead to a Confederation of the
British Isles. Again, the point is not so
much to be for or against any formula as to
know that there are formulas further down
the road, not uncharted wilderness.

4. A fourth process will have each conflict
party and conflict worker together construct a new cognitive space, seeing the
old goals as suboptimal, simplistic, and
formulating broader goals. "Don't be so
modest, go in for something better than
what you used to demand!"

5. A .fifth process will explore whether all
parties embrace the same points in the
new cognitive space. If they do in
Korea, there are still conflicts. NAFfA/
EU will fear East Asian markets with
free flow of goods and services. The Koreas will fear free flow of persons and
ideas. There will be quarrels over costs
and benefits. But all of this can be handled without violence.
The dialogue between each conflict
party and conflict worker ends when they
have successfully completed the last two
processes: discourse/ Gestalt enrichment, com-

213

plexi.fication; and a change in cathexis toward
new points in the cognitive space.
The conflict worker then goes to the
other conflict party, or shares the findings
with team members who dialogued with
other parties. The latter may be preferable
lest conflict party number 2 sees the conflict
worker as an envoy for conflict party number
1. In either case, the process with number 2
has to start from the beginning, not using the
outcome from number 1 as a starting point
for number 2. The process is new for number
2 even ifit is not for the conflict worker.
At the end of this first round, the dialogue
processes of both parties have to be compared,
which is simplest with only one conflict worker.
Not only the outcomes, but also the processes
leading to those outcomes have to be "processed" for new and shared perspectives.

The Second Round:
Sustainability of Outcomes
In the second round, the new cognitive space
is handed back to the parties. The space
should be complex, having more than one
point, but the points should not be spelt out
in too much detail. The second round should
not be a copy of what conflict parties often
do: This is the position, take it or leave it.
If the first round has been done well,
mutual acceptability has already been built
into the new cognitive space by taking into
account all kinds of objections. The task of
the second round is to probe for sustainability, together with the parties. What could
make outcomes of these types stick? What
are the vulnerabilities, the weak points? The
five processes will be about the same as
those employed in the first round.

The Third Round: Coming Together
In the third round, parties meet to
negotiate the details of a transcending outcome, not a compromise, now presumably

214
being "ready for the table," equipped with
expanded cognitive spaces. Or, even better,
one of them makes an opening move and
the other follows. For this process they may
not even have to meet, the conflict may simply have "evaporated" like what happened
to the Cold War with its countless dialogues.
To open the cognitive space, forgotten
parties and goals may have to be included so
as to have more cognitive complexity to
work with. A common goal can then be identified-transcending, going beyond, the
original goals-expressed in short, evocative
formulations, preferably only one to four
words, difficult to reject. 5 Concrete stepswill then have to be identified for all parties.
Obviously, this work is difficult, requiring experience, sheer intelligence in the
IQ sense, the capacity to internalize vast
amounts of emotional/ cognitive material
and to make that quantum jump to a new
image/perspective with sufficient clarity,
combined with the wordsmith's ability to
find the right words.

PSYCHOLOGICAL PROCESSES
IN THE TRANSCEND APPROACH
Two psychological processes seem to be
involved: one more cognitive, cognitive expansion and reframing, and one more emotive, a shift in cathexis toward new goalstates.

Cognitive Expansion and Reframing
This happens when a simple two-points discourse, like status quo vs. independence
with totally incompatible goals, yields to a
more complex discourse with goals at the
time held by nobody; like giving the disputed object away (res nullius) or sharing it
(res communis). The original positions are
still on the map, but in a context of new po-

Peacemaking

sltlons that at a first glance may look
strange, but worth exploring. As cognitive
reframing breaks open a simple Gestalt,
providing building blocks for another and
more complex Gestalt, emotive suffering
and cognitive pain may be high.
A shift in the viewing angle or perspective on the conflict is a part of the process
known as reframing in psychotherapy. 6
The terms disembedding/re-embedding are
more evocative, however. The conflict, and
the accompanying discourse, have come to
rest, been "embedded," usually in a dualistic
framework. One way of disembedding brings
in more goal-dimensions with or without
clashes, more actors and more concerns.
Sexual infidelity looks different when four
other ways of being unfaithful are also considered: of the mind (the secret love), the
spirit (no concern for the partner's life project), socially (no social support), economically (having a secret account, ':just in case").
Options like separation/ divorce look different when children, grandparents, friends,
and neighbors enter the cognitive space, not
only the couple defining themselves as the
center of the universe, wrapped around their
fight over sexual monopoly.

Creating Cognitive Dissonances
and New Consonances
The point of departure is usually a twopoint, dualist discourse reflecting a polarized conflict formation. There is cognitive
consonance: Other and his position are
both viewed negatively, Self and own position are glorified, the positive identification
of each party with their positions is highlighted. To move from this ultra-stable position, dissonances or cognitive inconsistencies have to be introduced.
One approach is to move the dialogue
from a concern with the present (diagnosis)

Crafting Peace: On the Psychology of the TRANSCEND Approach
to the future (prognosis). Ask what the positions taken will lead to. The answer "only by
being firm can we find a solution" can be
followed up by the question "what if Other
thinks he also has to be firm?" A silence in
the dialogue may indicate a recognition of
the possibility of endless revenge cycles that
may spell disaster to Self. The assumption
would be that "peace by peaceful means"
has some attraction. 7 And that is where the
expanded cognitive space and the new angles may enter: "What would happen if we
proceeded along the following lines?" "How
would life be for your children, grandchildren?"
This process is not a Socratic "dialogue"
where the conflict worker knows in advance
what slhe wants as a conclusion. The process
is mutual, also taking place inside the conflict
worker. For her or him the negative goal,
fear, is the violence and the positive goal,
hope, some constructive outcome for all parties, that history moves on. If the conflict
worker is hardened, refusing to budge,
closed to new facts, theories, and values, slhe
may have to yield that position to somebody
else. The task is to elicit, suggest, propose,
not to impose. Sentences end with the question mark typical of a dialogue, not with the
exclamation signs typical of a debate. 8
A dialogue should be between equals.
They meet away from the power paraphernalia of the conflict party (seals, titles, flags)
or of the conflict worker (books, titles,
awards). The conflict worker knows more
about general conflict theory, the conflict
party more about this specific conflict. The
conflict worker ought not to be too well prepared on the specific conflict lest slhe becomes too overwhelming, looming too high,
well above the conflict party, both on generalities and specifics. Exchanging general
and specific knowledge is not a bad basis for
equality.

215

But there is another inequality lurking.
Conflict party and conflict worker are both
exploring new outcome spaces for exits.
The conflict worker is bound to the principle of hope: Somewhere there is some exit.
The conflict party may share that hope but
also be convinced, in head-brain or gutbrain, that there is no such point, thereby
vindicating the position taken. Violence is
legitimated negatively: There is no alternative! Hopes for confirmation makes for
blindness to transcendence.
A way out is to use the diagnosis-prognosis-therapy formula creatively. Each of
them defines a dialogue mode, a discourse.
Diagnosis and prognosis are both descriptive, of past and future, respectively (past
because facts that have become data reflect
the past). Therapy is prescriptive, of the future. That map reveals an unexplored spot:
the therapy of the past.
The question, "what went wrong, when,
where, and what could have been done at
the time?" is designed to make the party reflect on the past to the point of owning the
past, coming on top of history rather than
permitting history to come on top of Self;
giving in to fate, to destiny. Counterfactual
history, in the subjunctive rather than the
indicative, has to be elicited.
In our experience, after some reluctance, conflict parties are willing to engage
in history "as if." History is distant, or they
can make it distant, pointing to events that
occurred a long time ago, far beyond their
current responsibility horizons. Suggestions
usually emerge, creating a discourse that is
more creative, less filled with terrible "facts"
that lead us nowhere. "Maybe at that point
in history we should have.... "
The conflict worker would elicit maximum creativity, and then move across both
dimensions, from past to future, and from
the prescriptive to the descriptive: "What do

216
you think is going to happen now?" Obviously, this would be an effort to provide a
positive anchoring in some hope, some perspective emerging from the "therapy of the
past" (with the great advantage that it cannot be subjected to the test of reality), and a
negative anchoring in the fear, of a dark
prognosis come true. But what if they say,
'We want only one thing, to win"? Extend
the time horizon by asking: 'What if they
take revenge, in twenty years"?
The conflict worker has two m<9or tasks.
The positive task is, through dialogue, to
elicit a new conflict perspective and a positive anchor or goal to which both parties are
attracted, learning from the parties, contributing own ideas, until something creative and solid emerges. The general
method is to expand the cognitive space so
that the old conflict positions are still identifiable, yet a new transcending position has
emerged. The conflict is disembedded from
its old "bed," and re-embedded at a new
place.
Second, the negative task is to open for
the full spectrum of invisible consequences
of violence, the "externalities."9 Just as in
the "science" of economics keeping m<9or
effects invisible as "side-effects" or "externalities" makes it easier to engage in exploitative economic practices, the military HQ
approach in terms of numbers killed,
wounded, and material damage only, nothing about side effects, such as structural and
cultural damage, glorification of violence
and urge for revenge makes it easier to engage in violent conflict practices.
An important question is where this approach places the conflict worker on the dialogue-debate axis. Conflict workers have a
double goal: starting with the therapy of the
past, then moving to the prognosis, then
risking a joint exploration to arrive at a diagnosis, then making an effort to identify

Peacemaking

therapies of the future. And then, the same
process again. And again, until something
fruitful emerges, if necessary by replacing
both the conflict parties and the conflict
workers.
The process is only meaningful if the dialogue is a genuinely mutual brainstorming
process, looking like a cross between a good
conversation in a saloon and a lively university seminar. If the conflict worker in fact is
pushing a specific position, then she/he is
ripe for replacement.
The crisis over UNSCOM inspection in
Iraq, February 1998, may serve as an example. That the United States and United Kingdom wanted to bomb Iraq "to the table," or
punish Iraq for non-compliance, was clear.
But Kofi Annan, the U.N. Secretary General,
went to Baghdad and came back with a perspective that looked "reasonable to reasonable men and women." The basic idea was to
attach a diplomat to every team so that verbal
encounters could be more according to
diplomatic protocol. An important point was
the difference between plain, colloquial
American English and an Arabic richly endowed with honorifics; literal translation
would sound even more insulting and
"undiplomatic" to Arabs. The perspective became a shared point of reference and built a
consensus which in the end was joined also
by the United States and United Kingdom.
But why not leave the processes to the
parties in a direct encounter? Fine, if they
manage. The experience is that in a hard
conflict they do not. They are emotionally
overwhelmed by their hatred for each other
and fear of what may happen if they can be
seen as yielding on some point. And they
are cognitively blinded by their efforts to
defend untenable positions rather than
searching for something new. Creativity is at
a minimum. Having the "enemy" three feet
away does not serve to open up cognitive

Crafting Peace: On the Psychology of the TRANSCEND Approach

spaces or to let dissonances in, let alone permit them to start dismantling their entrenched configurations.
Anger may well be a dominant emotion
if the conflicting parties are prematurely
brought together. No emotion is likely to be
more contagious. Trying to create a dialogue when anger prevails is like trying to
erect a tent in a tornado.9 The storm has
to settle down before the tent can be made
to stay up. That is where the conflict worker,
enters: calming the parties down by talking
with them one at the time. There may be no
time to lose before violence.
With only negative affects towards each
other the parties are likely to stick to their
positions, and real listening will be minimal.
What they hear will sound like well-known
tape-recordings and only serve to elicit defenses of their own position. At best it leads
to debates that quickly degenerate into
quarrels, but not to real dialogue. Real dialogue requires emphatic listening, not so
much concern for the other as concern for
the total, inclusive "system" (like "Europe"
in a broad sense during the Cold War, "the
subcontinent" in any Indo-Pak encounter),
and willingness to take a fresh look instead
of running up and down fixed grooves of
thought.
Access to prominent niches in public
space is essential. That access will probably
be controlled or attempted controlled by
State (censorship) or Capital (corporate
media), lest a perspective should serve as a
war-blocker when that war is wanted for
some reason. The more a war seems to be
imminent, and the higher the status of the
country in the international community, the
more closed are major mass media to
perspectives on conflict transformation by
peaceful means. To break this invariance is
no doubt a m.yor task in this field. The Internet does not quite solve the problem: It is

217

publicly accessible, but it is not public
knowledge who possess that public knowledge. Big powers prefer perspectives developed behind closed doors, producing a
heavy pluralistic ignorance (ignorance about
where the plurality stands) and a wait-andsee attitude in the public.
A meta-script seems to be at work here,
driving not only the media but also the
diplomats. A good story starts up softly, then
builds up to a dramatic peak, builds down,
and flattens out, to quiet, the End. Let in
early violence, let it escalate, let it peak;
then time is ripe/mature. People are begging for "peace," handed down to victims
and bad (violent) boys, by the intervention
of big (powerful) boys, putting an end to
conflict.
The idea of an ending already spells disaster. Violence may end, but a conflict always has residues. Violence will be reproduced if the causes are not sufficiently
uprooted. Was the agreement really accepted by all parties? Is it really self-sustainable or does it have to be propped up from
the outside? In that case, for how long? Has
there been any reconciliation? Any professional would know this. Interstate or -nation
conflicts are not handled with much professionalism.

DEEPER PSYCHOLOGY OF THE
TRANSCEND APPROACH
Of course what has been said above, essentially some Gestalt theory and cognitive dissonance theory, taking note of the emotions
accompanying complex cognitive processes,
is heavily biased in favor of conscious and
cognitive processes. If we try a division of
psychology, individual as well as collective,
into four fields, then so far we have favored
the northwestern corner (see Table 18.1).

Peacemaking

218
Table 18.1

A Division of the Field of Psychology
Cognitive processes

Emotive processes

Conscious

IDEOLOGY

LOVE/HATE

processes

True vs. False

Good/Right vs. Bad/Wrong

Subconscious

COSMOLOGY

GLORY/TRAUMA

processes

Deep cognitions

Deep emotions

At the conscious level there is awareness
or easy retrieval, a test being ability to verbalize. At the subconscious level there is no
awareness, retrieval is difficult/painful, and
not possible under nonnal circumstances.
Professional help may be needed to construct a map of the subconscious from manifest indicators. Psychoanalysis in the
Freudian tradition has had a tendency to
focus on the individual, the subconscious,
the emotive and the traumatic; a needed,
but also narrow approach.
The southeast corner is needed to
correct for the northwest corner bias. Dialogues have been explored in order to rearrange cognitive structures, using emotionally positive and negative anchors. But
that is only part of the story. We may enter
the deep personality of conflict parties and
conflict workers, but it should be noted that
in political and particularly geopolitical
conflicts, the conflict party is a representative, a diplomat. Consequently, Table 18.1
has to be read as reflecting collective, meaning shared, psychological processes.
The tenns in the table are already adjusted to fit also the collective level of analysisY The two subconscious categories add
up to the deep culture of that collectivity;
which could be a collectivity shared by the
representatives/ diplomats.
Corresponding to glory/trauma at the
collective level would be pride/shame.
These deep emotions, especially shame,

have been neglected in the literature. An
exception is Tomkins: 12
While terror and distress hurt, they are
wOWlds inflicted from outside, but shame is
felt as an inner torment, a sickness of the
soul. The humiliated one who has been
shamed feels naked, defeated, lacking in
dignity and worth.

No wonder that shame, perhaps more
than sexual and aggressive feelings, has
been ignored both in everyday life, and in
the literature. The more a society is based
on exploitation and oppression, the more
intolerable shame will be for the oppressor.
Shame and fear are instilled in the oppressed, while anger and contempt dominate for the oppressor.
Scheff has drawn attention to how unacknowledged shame may lead to anger, and
how spirals of shame-anger figure prominently, not only in quarrels but also in international relations, and how war may be a
way to reduce chronic shame. Nathanson
has a broader perspective on shame, and
one powenul strategy to evade the experience of shame is to "attack others." 13
Healthy pride, enjoying one's own accomplishments, is a joy to see in children.
But the dangers of extracting undue glory
from deeds vicariously earned, as in celebrating yesterday'S battle victories or "our"
team in sports, are ubiquitous. Hubris, false
pride, is a well-known human affliction. We

Crafting Peace: On the Psychology of the TRANSCEND Approach

hypothesize that the stronger that pride, the
more vulnerability to shaming, and shaming
will then likely lead to escalating anger. As
collectively shared sentiment, this cycle may
become dangerous.
Insight in the collective deep culture
would seem to be essential for the conflict
worker; insight in the deeper layers of the
personality of the specific conflict party
perhaps less so. Representatives come and
go; the deep culture stays about the same,
even for la longue duree (Braudel), the
longer run.
To take an example: Imagine a conflict
party (a major country) and a representative (a major person). There is a dialogue
with the conflict worker, and a high level of
verbal agreement about both the positive
and the negative anchors is brought about.
Yet there is no acceptability in the sense of
acting upon that consensus. There is unarticulated resistance.
Imagine now that in the collective subconscious of that country, in the deeper recesses of that collective mind, two ideas are
lurking: [1] no perspective on a conflict is
valid unless it can be seen as originating
with us (written US?), the center ofgeopolitics; and [2] no transformation of a conflict
is valid unless military power has played a
major role.
Whether those beliefs 'are consciously
present and the conflict party prefers not to
articulate it, or absent from consciousness
and unarticulated, may be less important.
The conflict worker has an array of choices:
bringing such tacit assumptions out in the
open as a dialogue theme; taking the assumptions into account without explicitly
. saying so.
The first course of action is preferable,
but maybe in a roundabout way: "Sometimes
there are countries that have a tradition of
feeling that
. What do you
think?" To ask that question, however, the

219

conflict worker must have the ability to hear
the inaudible, that which has not been said,
and to see the invisible, the (too) well-controlled body language. This model becomes
more complicated if we think in terms of
two persons aiming at conflict transformation. Three cases are:
• two conflict parties, known as negotiation
• one conflict party and one conflict
worker, known as dialogue
• two conflict workers, known as a seminar
However, whenever two psyches are
meeting, four layers interact:
• the collective conscious, meaning the
role behavior
• the personal conscious, meaning the
personal outlook
• the personal subconscious, meaning
the personal baggage
• the collective subconscious, meaning
the deep culture
To start with the conflict worker: no
doubt slhe should know more than his role
repertory, as spelt out in manuals. Through
experience slhe should develop the personal touch, adding and subtracting from
prescribed repertory, like any psychotherapist, social worker, mediator, or diplomat
would do. Sihe should also have some insight in the deeper forces at work at the personal and collective levels, not pretending
to be a tabula rasa. Any conflict worker, like
any other human being, has a biography.
Like a psychoanalyst having psychoanalysis
as part of her training, the conflict worker
may have conflict transformation at the personallevel as hers.
This knowledge cannot be demanded
of any conflict party. The only thing that
should be demanded is conflict worker

220

Peacemaking

awareness of such factors, as indicated in
the example above.
But the conflict worker might also do
weII to consider her or his own personality,
especiaIIy at the subconscious level of deep
emotions. Could there be some shame, some
false pride? How about compatibility with the
conflict party, with regard to the taste for
anecdotes, humor, knowledge display, etc.?
How do two conflict parties participate
in a negotiation? Their verbal exchange is a
debate, not a dialogue; a verbal duel. There
is winner and loser, according to whose
position best survives the battle. There is
mobilization of conscious and subconscious
energies to fulfiII the coIIective program,
delivering the cultural script intact into the
final document.
A critical and very often neglected point
is the role of the collective subconscious in
this connection. Consider these four possible outcomes:
Identical
collective
subconscious

Different
collective
subconscious

Verbal
agreement

A

B

Verbal
disagreement

c

D

In Case A, the agreement is unsurprising, assuming that the collective subconscious dictates 90 percent of the positions,
making the agreement pre-programmed
(e.g., the European Union treaties).
In Case B, the agreement is more interesting, bridging gaps in underlying assumptions. Sustainability of the agreement may be
questioned, however (e.g., the U.S.-:Japan
security treaties).
In Case C, the disagreement is interesting, reflecting genuine ideological disagree-

ment, questioning the sustainability of the
disagreement under pressure (e.g., France
and NATO in 1965-1966).
In Case D, the disagreement is unsurprising if we assume that the coIIective
subconscious dictates 90 percent of the positions taken, making disagreements preprogrammed (e.g., U.S.-China relations).
An agreement may be little more than a
celebration of the collective subconscious,
not backed by real dialogue. "Good chemistry" between individuals may bridge gaps.
But be skeptical: Such agreements may be
based on false assumptions.

CONCLUSION: TOWARD A CONFLICT
TRANSFORMATION CULTURE
Conflict releases, and builds, human and social, individual and collective, energy; the
problem is how to channel that energy in
constructive rather than destructive directions. Look at the faces, at people's eyes
when in conflict: Some show dullness and
apathy; others have beaming eyes, ready to
go. The question is where-to the battlefield or to scale peaks of human creativity?
We have nqt tapped the psychology of
creativity,14 focusing on the (often lonely)
creative individual and how insight comes as
a flash, through analogic rather than logic.
An exception is provided by Edward
deBono l5 and his "lateral thinking" to arrive
at fresh perspectives. We are, however, looking more for how people can be creative together, like in the Somalian shir:16
... a traditional conflict resolution structure
that brings together all the mature men in
the clans involved in a conflict. Women,
children and young hot-blooded warriors
are excluded. Men lounge under the thorn
trees during the hot, dry day. They chat and
drink tea. They also spend long hours chewing qat, the mildly euphoric drug grown in
the Horn of Mrica, smoking, greeting each

Crafting Peace: On the Psychology of the TRANSCEND Approach
other, delighting in the pleasure of meeting
old friends-or old foes .... At some point,
things will jell. The various pieces that make
up the main issue for which the shiT was
called will fall into place because a social climate conducive to a solution will have
slowly emerged. The result will be proper
peace-a peace felt from the inside-a
peace that will have nothing in common
with the quick-fix conferences in air-conditioned hotels in Addis Ababa organized by
the UN ...

In short, a conflict market filled to the
brim with dialogues! There is no assumption that the model described in this chapter is easy.!' We would like to emphasize the
intellectual effort involved in developing
fruitful conflict perspectives. No attention
to the emotive and the subconscious, however warranted, should detract from this intellectual aspect, and whether conflicts mobilize sufficient numbers of people with the
talents needed. The verdict of this century is
a resounding no. We have much to learn,
and to do, to handle conflicts better.

NOTES
1. Dollard and Miller, Frustration and
A.ggression. New York: Yale University Press,
1939; Berkowitz, L. "Frustration-aggression
hypothesis: Examination and reformulation, n Psychological Bulletin, 1989, 106, 59-73.
2. It would be unfair to classify the problem-solving workshops of the Yale learning
school, the Harvard interactional school
and the London communication/human
needs school under the A and B comers,
failing to take C into account, but not too
wrong. But dleir rebuttal might be that the
TRANSCEND transformation approach is
singlemindedly focused on C, which is true
and is also why TRANSCEND has eleven
other programs. For a fine analysis, see
TaIja Vaeyrynen, "Problem-Solving as a

221

Form of Conflict Resolution," Rutherford
College, University of Kent, UK, 1992.
3. Johan Galtung, Conflict Transfurmation by Peaceful Means, United Nations, 1998,
the "mini-version," in English, French,
Spanish, Russian, Arabic and Chinese. A
"maxi-version" is coming, available on the
TRANSCEND home-page, www.transcend.
eng. For some of the theoretical background, see Johan Galtung, Peace by Peaceful
Means (London, New Delhi, Thousand
Oaks: Sage, 1996), Part IT, particularly
Chapter 3. For other works, see: John Paul
Lederach, Preparing for Peace: Conflict Transfurmation A.cross Cultures, Syracuse: Syracuse
University Press, 1995. "Dialogue" is neither
in the table of contents nor in index. There
is a fine comparison of the prescriptive and
Lederach's own famous elicitive approach
(TRANSCEND is in-between); Mari Fitzduff, Community Conflict Skills, third ed.
Belfast: Community Relations Council Publications, 1998, analyzes "Third Party RolesMediation," but "dialogue" is not found in
the detailed table of contents (no index);
and Friedrich Glasl, Konflikt-Management,
Ein Handbuch fuer Fuehrungskraefte, Beraterinnen und Berater, Bern: Paul Haupt,
1997. Dialogue is neither in the contents
nor in the index.
4. TRANSCEND is today working in and
on Chiapas/Guatemala, Colombia, Peru/
Ecuador, Northern Ireland, the Basque situation, GibraItar-Ceuta-Melilla, Yugoslavia,
Cyprus, the Middle East, the Kurdish situation, Caucasus, Mghanistan, Kashmir, ChinaTibet-Taiwan, Okinawa, Hawaii and the Pacific in general, to mention some conflict
arenas. See www.transcend.org.
5. Good examples would include "common security" (Palme Commission), "sustainable development" (Brundtland Commission). TRANSCEND has used "Middle
East Helsinki Process" for the Israel-Palestine and the Gulf conflicts, "equal right to

222
self.detennination" for Yugoslavia, "condominium," or '10int sovereignty" or "binational zone" for the Ecuador-Peru border
issue, "Switzerland of East Asia" for Okinawa, "2+3" for Korea (meaning the two Koreas with Japan, China, and Vietnam, the
Mahayana-Buddhist countries), etc.
6. Watzlawick, P., Weakland, J., and
Fisch, R, Change, New York: W. W. Norton,
1978.
7. This is spelled out in some detail in
Johan Galtung, Peace By Peaceful Means, London, New Delhi, Thousand Oaks: Sage,
1996. PartII, Ch. 3.
8. For an excellent exploration of the
difference, see Deborah Tannen, The Argu-

ment Culture: Moving From Debate to Dialogue,
New York: Random House, 1998.
9. For a presentation of that spectrum,
see Johan Galtung, After Violence: 3R, Reconstruction, Reconciliation, Resolution; Geneva:
TRANSCEND, 1998; also at www.transcend.

org.
10. We are grateful to Jim Duffy for suggesting this metaphor.
11. For an exploration of the cognitive
collective subconscious, see Johan Galtung,
Peace By Peaceful Means, London, New Delhi,
Thousand Oaks: Sage, 1996. Part N, particularly p. 213, and for an analysis of the emotive collective subconscious see Johan Galtung, Global Projections of Deep-Rooted US.
Pathologies, Fairfax, VA:. ICAR, George
Mason University, 1996.
12. Silvan S. Tomkins, Affect, Imagery,
Consciousness, Vol. 2, New York: Springer,
1963, p. 118.
13. Thomas J. Scheff, Bloody Revenge.
Emotions, Nationalism, and War, San Francisco: Westview, 1994. Scheff discusses the
role played by shame-rage in the origin of
World War I and II. Donald, L. Nathanson,

Peacemaking

Shame and Pride, New York: Norton, 1992.
This carries further Tomkins's pathbreaking work on emotions.
14. James L. Adams, Conceptual Blockbusting, Toronto: McLeod, 1974, may serve
as an introduction to creative problem-solving, and since the root of a conflict is an incompatibility we are certainly in the field of
problem-s01ving. His references are: George
F. Kneller, The Art and Science of Creativity,
New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston,
1965; S. J. Parnes and H. F. Harding, A
Source Book for Creative Thinking, New York:
Scribner's 1962; Arthur Koestler, The Act of
Creation, New York: Dell, 1967; H. H. Anderson, ed., Creativity and its Cultivation, New
York: Harper & Row, 1959; J.S. Bruner, JJ.
Goodnow and GA Austin, A Study of Thinking, (New York: Wiley, 1957); Sigmund
Freud, On Creativity and the Unconscious, New
York: Harper & Row, 1958; CarlJung, Man
and His Symbols, New York: Doubleday, 1964;
Lawrence S. Kubie, Neurotic Distortion of the
Creative Process, New York: Farrar, Strauss
and Giroux, 1966; F. Perls, R Hefferline,
and P. Goodman, Gestalt Theory: Excitement
and Growth in the Human Personality, New
York: Dell, 1951.
15. See Edward DeBono, Serious Creativity: Using the power of lateral thinking to create
new ideas, London: HarperCollins Business,
1992.
16. See Gerard Prunier, "Somaliland
Goes It Alone," Current History, May 1998,
pp. 225-228; the quote is from p. 227.
17. Thus, see James Scott, Seeing Like A

State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the
Human Condition Have Failed, New Haven,
CT: Yale University Press, 1998 (for a review
see C. R Sunstein, "More is Less," The New
Republic, May 18 1998, pp. 32-37).

CHAPTER 19

INTRODUCING COOPERATION
AND CONFLICT RESOLUTION
INTO SCHOOLS:
A SYSTEMS ApPROACH
Peter Coleman and Morton Deutsch

Families and schools are the two most important institutions influencing the developing child's predispositions to hate and to
love. Although the influence of the family
comes earlier and is often more profound,
there is good reason to believe that the
child's subsequent experiences in schools
can modify or strengthen the child's earlier
acquired dispositions. In this chapter, we
shall outline a program of what schools can
do to encourage the development of the values, attitudes, knowledge, and skills which
foster constructive rather than destructive
relations, which prepare our children to live
in a peaceful world.
Many schools do not provide much constructive social experience for their students. Too often, schools are structured so
that students are pitted against one another.

They compete for the teacher's attention,
for grades, for status, and for admission to
prestigious schools. In recent years, it has
been increasingly recognized that our
schools have to change in basic ways if we
are to educate children so that they are for
rather than against one another, so that they
develop the ability to resolve their conflicts
constructively rather than destructively, so
that they are prepared to contribute to the
development of a peaceful and just world.
This recognition has been expressed in a
number of interrelated movements in education such as "cooperative learning," "conflict resolution," "violence prevention," and
"education for peace." Viewing schools
from a systems perspective can allow us to
see how these movements may complement
each other and work in concert to trans-

223

224

form our schools at five levels: the disciplinary, the curricular, the pedagogical, the
cultural, and the community.

COOPERATION AND CONFLICT
RESOLUTION IN PEACE EDUCATION
In her book, Comprehensive Peace Education
(1988), Betty Reardon states that the general purpose of peace education is "to promote the development of an authentic planetary consciousness that will enable us to
function as global citizens and to transfonn
the present human condition by changing
the social structures and the patterns of
thought that have created it" (p. x). This
statement emphasizes the role of peace education in transfonning the thinking and the
values of students around social interdependence and social justice, in a manner that
moves them to become agents for the constructive transfonnation of the larger society. In this sense, peace education must be a
core concern of peace psychologists as
they endeavor to identify and promote conditions that favor the sustainable satisfaction
of human needs for security, identity, self
determination and quality oflife for all people (Christie, 1997).
We see cooperation, conflict, and constructive, nonviolent approaches to the resolution of conflict as processes that are central to the broader mission of peace
education. Deutsch (1994) defined peace
education as "educating people to learn to
live in a cooperative world, to learn to manage the inevitable conflicts that occur in a
constructive rather than destructive way"
(p. 6). In order to accomplish this most
effectively, schools must undergo a basic restructuring of the way in which they function. They must become collaborative institutions which are experienced as such by
students and teachers in their day-to-day

Peacemaking

functioning. The ways of working together
and the ways of dealing with the inevitable
conflicts which emerge must incorporate
this change. Most schools, in the United
States anyway, are not such institutions, and
the people within them, teachers and administrators, are not adequately prepared to
function that way. This must be a core concern for educators.
The emphasis of this book on the relationship of structural violence (poverty, institutionalized racism, and sexism, etc.) to
sustainable peace highlights an important
question regarding conflict resolution that
has been expressed by some in the peace
education movement Essentially they ask,
"Doesn't 'resolving' conflicts in fact put out
small fires that perhaps should be fanned
into major conflagrations to aid in awakening a sense of injustice and identifying a
need for more fundamental social change?"
(Lawson, 1994). We believe this depends on
how conflict resolution processes are put to
use and agree with Stephens's (1994) view
of conflict resolution as midway along a
continuum extending from social system
change to social system maintenance (see
Figure 19.1).
Social change is unlikely without conflict. The question is under what circumstances will the conflict take a violent or
nonviolent course? Some will argue that violence is necessary to overthrow those in
power who don't want to change because
they are benefiting from the status quo.
Others will argue that there are many nonviolent methods (see Sharp, 1971) for developing both positive and negative incentives
to motivate those in power to acquiesce to
fundamental social change.
In the abstract, one can never rule out
the possibility that, in a specific situation, violence may be necessary to remove a brutal,
oppressive despot. However, two important

Introducing Cooperation and Conflict Resolution into Schools: A Systems Approach

225

CONFLICT I PEACE FIELDS OF STUDY:
[----- Peace Studies -------]

[--------- Altemative Dispute Resolution -----]

[-------- Conflict Resolution ---------]

CONFLICT {PEACE PRACTICES:
Nonviolent Action ---------------- Mediation ------------------Arbitration
Civil Disobedience
Mini-trials
~

_______ SOCIAL _____________________________________ .__
CHANGE

Figure 19.1

SYSTEM

_. __ ••••_~

MAINTENANCE

Conflict Resolution: Midway between social change and system maintenance. From].B. Stephens. (1994). Gender Conflict In A. Taylor and].
Berstein Miller (Eds.) Conflict and Gender, 217-235. Cresskill, NJ: Hampton Press, Inc.

points must be made. First, violence is too
frequently resorted to before other courses
of nonviolent social action are adequately
considered. Second, even a revolutionary
group must have well-developed skills in collaboration and constructive conflict resolu·
tion if it is to function well and to manage
its internal conflicts effectively.

A SYSTEMIC APPROACH
TO COOPERATION, CONFLICT
RESOLUTION, AND PEACE
EDUCATION IN SCHOOLS
Systemic approaches to conceptualizing
conflict processes and intervening in intense conflicts have been gaining increasing
attention in the field for conflicts at the in·
dividuallevel (e.g., Pruitt & Olczak, 1995),
in schools ( e.g., Louis & Miles, 1990; Craw·
ford & Bodine, 1997), in other organizations (e.g., Ury, Brett, & Goldberg, 1988;
Costantino & Merchant, 1996), and in or
between nations (e.g., Rouhana & Kelman,
1994; Lederach, 1997). This emphasis on

systems reflects the recognition that individuals are members of groups: They affect the
groups and are affected by them; groups are
components of organizations which affect
them and which they affect; a similar twoway causation exists between the organizations and their communities.
Raider (1995) proposed that there are
four levels of school systems through which
one can introduce cooperation and conflict
resolution concepts, skills, and processes:
Level 1, the student disciplinary system;
Level 2, the curriculum; Level 3, pedagogy;
and Level 4, the school culture. We suggest
that adding a fifth level-Level 5, the community-will enhance the view of the school
system as an "open system" embedded in a
larger communal system which can aid in
the sustainability of school system change
(see Figure 19.2). Interventions at these five
levels differ considerably, but all are aimed
at change at both the individual and systems
level and are centered on the values of em·
powerment, positive social interdependence,
nonviolence, and social justice.

226

Peacemaking

Case Study 1: Conflict and Change
In 1995, our Center (The International Center for Cooperation and Conflict Resolution)
was contacted by a newly appointed supervisor of a kindergarden through sixth-grade
school district who requested our assistance with managing conflict and change in his
new district. The school community was experiencing severe growing pains because of
the spread of a more diverse, urban population into what had been a rather small and exclusively white rural community. The district was growing rapidly and was in the process
of acquiring a local high school.
These changes had led to an increase in student-student, teacher-parent, and
teacher-administration conflicts. Our approach began with a series of group interviews
with key stakeholders in the district (teachers, union reps, board members, parents,
etc.). These interviews assessed each of the groups' current concerns, their sense of
"typical" and "ideal" conflict processes within the district, and their goals for the schools.
These data were then categorized and fed back to all of the interviewees as a group
during a day-long feedback and planning session. This group, together, decided on a
"whole systems" intervention in the district which included: classroom activity trainings for
the teachers (which included training in constructive controversy), peer mediation trainings for the students (third grade and up), adult collaborative negotiation training for all
staff (including the administration, lunch aides, bus drivers, etc.), and "turn-key" trainings
for a select group of staff that, in time, took over the training process. 80th anecdotal
and empirical evidence have indicated that the intervention has been effective in establishing a safer, more collaborative climate in the district.

1. Discipline
2. Curriculum

3. Pedagogy

4. School culture
5. Community

5

Figure 19.2

A systemic approach to transforming schools.

Introducing Cooperation and Conflict Resolution into Schools: A Systems Approach

Level 1: The Student
Discipline System-Peer
Mediation Programs
When there are difficult conflicts which the
disputing parties are not able to resolve constructively themselves, it is useful to tum to
the help of third parties such as mediators.
In schools, such conflicts can occur between
students, between students and teachers, between parents and teachers, between teachers and administrators, etc. Mediation programs have been established in a number of
schools, often in response to an increase in
student disciplinary problems, incidents of
violence, or to the threat of violence in
schools. As a result of their relative low-cost,
student-centeredness, and reported effectiveness, peer mediation programs have
emerged as one of the most widely used
conflict resolution programs in schools
(Crawford & Bodine, 1997). However, they
are usually brought into a school to enhance the overall disciplinary system of a
school, not replace it.

227

Typically, in these programs students as
well as teachers are selected and given between ten and 30 hours of training and follow-up supervision to prepare them to serve
as mediators. Oftentimes the student mediators are nominated by their peers. Training
focuses on the principles of constructive
conflict resolution as well as how to serve as
a mediator. They are also given a set of rules
to apply during the mediation process. Students as young as ten years as well as high
school and college students have been
trained. The mediation centers in schools
get referrals from deans and teachers as well
as students. The services of these centers are
usually introduced into the school culture by
classroom visits with role plays by mediators,
posters and flyers detailing the services, and
other ways of persuading the administrators,
faculty, and student body of the value of the
center's services.
Several evaluation research studies have
been conducted over the past ten years
which show a consistent pattern of positive
effects of peer mediation programs (Craw-

Case Study 2: A Fight at P.S. 18
A fight broke out in schoof today between James, an African-American student, and Luis,
a Hispanic student. Luis claims that he was standing around with his friends between periods when he saw James standing against the other wall looking at him with a bad look.
One of Luis's friends said in Spanish, "What's his problem?", and then they laughed and
joked with each other. Then, for no reason, James got in his face and shoved him. Luis
said he knew that James was trying to start something so he took a swing at him. Then
the security guard came over. James claims that "these Hispanic kids" are always standing around, talking Spanish and looking at him. Today he heard one of them say "Moreno,"
which means "Black," and then saw them laughing and joking. James said he knew they
were either trashing him or his people. He decided to get out of there, but Luis got in his
way so he gave him a shove. Then, for no reason, Luis lunged at him and started a fight.
This case was referred to peer mediation by the dean, and you have been asked to
mediate it. The word in school is that the fight is going to continue after school between
James's and Luis's friends.

228

Peacemaking

ford & Bodine, 1997). At the individual
level, a high level of satisfaction is often reported with the mediation process by both
the disputants and the mediators. Beyond
this, in a recent study (Jones, 1998), the researchers found that " ... exposure to peer
mediation reduces personal conflict and increases prosocial values, decreases aggressiveness, and increases perspective taking
and conflict competence" (p. 18). Mediation programs appear to have the most
positive effects on the student mediators
themselves; positively affecting their selfconfidence, self-esteem, assertiveness, and
general attitudes towards school (Crawford
& Bodine, 1997).
At the school level, mediation programs
appear to result in a significant drop in disciplinary referrals, detentions, and suspensions in schools. This, of course, reduces the
amount of time that teachers and administrators have to spend dealing with these
conflicts. Mediation programs also result in
more positive perceptions of school "most
notably ... the development of a productive
learning environment, maintenance of high

standards, creation of a supportive and
friendly environment, and development of
positive overall climate" (Jones, 1998, p.
18). Finally, there is some indication from
the Jones study that "whole school" mediation programs (schools receiving curriculum training, conflict skills training for staff,
and peer mediation training) may better
prepare disputants for mediation than
cadre programs (peer mediation training
only) by creating a "broader knowledge of
mediation and constructive conflict behavior" (1998, p. 27). Generally, it is our assessment that mediation programs alone, although useful, are not sufficient to bring
about the paradigmatic shift in education
that we are proposing is needed to prepare
students to live in a peaceful world.

Level 2: Curriculum-Conflict
Resolution Training
Conflict is an inevitable feature of all social
relations. Conflict can take a constructive or
destructive course; it can take the form of
enlivening controversy or deadly quarrel.

Case Study 3: The Morning Community Meeting
At a laboratory school outside of Dallas, Texas, Mrs. Jennings's kindergarten class begins
each day with a morning meeting. The meeting begins with the teacher asking, "Does anyone have any problems that we should talk about this morning?" Several hands shoot up.
Mrs. Jennings tosses a "Koosh ball" to one student, who answers: "We're running down
the stairs to lunch too fast!" "Okay." replies Mrs. Jennings, "What could happen if we run
down the stairs too fast?" The group then discusses the perils of stairwell accidents.
After this, the teacher asks, "How can we help each other to walk more safely to the
lunchroom?" The group then brainstorms suggestions. Together they decide that if any
student runs down the stairs, he or she will be asked to return to the classroom and will
eat lunch apart from the others for one day. This becomes temporary class policy and is
written on the board. The next week the policy is reviewed for effectiveness. If it is working, it becomes formal class policy.
Problem identification, an orderly process for discussion, a mutual framing of the
problem, an understanding of consequences, brainstorming, agreements, and an implementation check: These are the seeds of community problem-solving and mediation.

Introducing Cooperation and Conflict Resolution into Schools: A Systems Approach

There is much to suggest that there is a twoway relation between effective cooperation
and constructive conflict resolution. Good
cooperative relations facilitate the constructive management of conflict; the ability to
handle constructively the inevitable conflicts that occur during cooperation facilitates the survival and deepening of cooperative relations.
Schools and school districts are bringing conflict resolution concepts and skills
into the curriculum, either as a course that
stands alone or as a unit within existing programs. These curricula provide lessons and
activities for preschoolers through university graduates and are focused on such
themes as understanding conflict, communication, dealing with anger, cooperation,
affirmation, bias awareness, cultural diversity, conflict resolution, and peacemaking.
There are many different programs and
their contents vary as a function of the age
of the students being trained and their
background.
Some common elements run through
most programs. They derive from the recognition that a constructive process of conflict
resolution is similar to an effective, cooperative problem-solving process (where the
conflict is perceived as the mutual problem
to be solved) while a destructive process is
similar to a win-lose, competitive struggle
(Deutsch, 1973). In effect, most conflict resolution training programs seek to instill the
attitudes, knowledge, and skills that are conducive to effective, cooperative problemsolving and to discourage the attitudes and
habitual responses which give rise to winlose struggles. From a school system perspective, these trainings establish and reinforce a basic frame of reference and
language for collaboration, and orient students to a process and skills that are familiar
but underutilized. Below, we list the central
elements which are included in many train-

229

ing programs, but we do not have the space
to describe the ingenious techniques that
are employed in teaching them. The sequence in which they are taught varies as a
function of the nature of the group being
taught.

1. Know what type of conflict you are involved in. There are three major types: the
zero-sum conflict (a pure win-lose, conflict),
the mixed-motive (both can win, both can
lose, one can win and the other can lose),
and the pure cooperative (both can win or
both can lose). It is important to know what
kind of conflict you are in because the different types require different types of strategies and tactics (see Lewicki & Litterer,
1985; Walton & McKersie, 1965). The common tendency is for inexperienced parties
to defme their conflict as "win-lose," even
though very few conflicts intrinsically are.
But if you misperceive it to be such, you are
apt to engage in a competitive, destructive
process of conflict resolution.
The strategies and tactics of the different types of conflict differ. In a zero-sum
conflict one seeks to amass, mobilize, and
utilize the various resources of power to
bring to bear more effective, relevant power
than one's adversary; or if this is not possible in the initial area of conflict, one seeks
to transform the arena of conflict into one
in which one's effective power is greater
than one's adversary. Thus, if a bully challenges you to a fight because you won't
"lend" him money and you cannot amass
the power to deter, intimidate, or beat him,
you might arrange to change the conflict
from a physical confrontation (which you
would lose) to a legal confrontation (which
you would win) by involving the police or
other legal authority. Our emphasis is on
the strategy of cooperative problem-solving
to find a solution to the conflict which is
mutually satisfactory and upon the develop-

230
ment and application of mutually agreedupon fair principles to handle those situations in which the aspirations of both sides
cannot be equally realized. The strategy and
tactics of the resolution of cooperative conflicts involve primarily cooperative fact-finding and research as well as rational persuasion.
2. Become aware of the causes and consequences of violence and of the alternatives to violence, even when one is very angry. Become realistically aware of how much violence there
is and how alcohol and drugs contribute to
violence. Become aware of what makes you
very angry. Learn the healthy and unhealthy
ways you have of expressing anger. Learn
how to actively channel your anger in ways
that are not violent and are not likely to
provoke violence from the other. Learn alternatives to violence in dealing with conflict. Prothrow-Stith (1987) and others (see
Eron, Gentry, & Schlegal, 1994 for a description of many programs) have developed very helpful curriculum for adolescents on the prevention of violence.
3. Face conflict rather than avoid it. Recognize that conflict may make you anxious
and that you may try to avoid it. Learn the
typical defenses you employ to evade conflict, e.g., denial, becoming overly agreeable, rationalization. Become aware of the
negative consequences of evading a conflict-irritability, tension, persistence of the
problem, etc. Learn what kinds of conflicts
are best avoided rather than confrontede.g., conflicts that will evaporate shortly,
those that are inherently unresolvable, winlose conflicts that you are unlikely to win.
4. Respect yourself and your interests, respect the other and his or her interests. Personal
insecurity and a sense of vulnerability often
lead people to define conflicts as "life and
death," win-lose struggles even when they
are relatively minor, mixed-motive conflicts.
Helping students develop a respect for

Peacemaking

themselves and their interests enables them
to see their conflicts in reasonable proportion and facilitates their constructive confrontation.
5. Avoid ethnocentrism: Understand and
accept the reality of cultural difference. Be aware
that we live in a community, a nation, a
world in which there are people from many
different cultures who differ in myriad ways
including ways of thinking about conflict
and negotiation. What you take to be selfevident and right may not seem that way to
someone from a different cultural background and vice versa. Expect cultural misunderstandings; use them as an opportunity
for learning rather than as a basis of estrangement.
6. Distinguish clearly between "interests"
and "positions." Positions may be opposed
but interests may not be (Fisher & Ury,
1981). The classic example from Follett
(1940) is that of a brother and sister, each
of whom wanted the only orange available.
The sister wanted the peel of the orange to
make marmalade; the brother wanted to eat
the inner part. Their positions ("I want the
orange") were opposed; their interests were
not. Often when conflicting parties reveal
their underlying interests, it is possible to
find a solution which suits them both.
7. Explore your interests and the other's interests to identify the common and compatible interests that you both share. A full exploration of
one another's interests increases empathy
and facilitates subsequent problem-solving.
8. Define the conflicting interests between
yourself and the other as a mutual problem to be
solved cooperatively. Define the conflict in
terms of specific behavior rather than about
who is a better person. Diagnose the problem clearly, and then creatively seek new options for dealing with the conflict that lead
to mutual gain. However, not all conflicts
can be solved to mutual satisfaction even
with the most creative thinking. Here,

Introducing Cooperation and Conflict Resolution into Schools: A Systems Approach

agreement upon a fair procedure that determines who gets his or her way, or seeking
help from neutral, third parties may be the
most constructive resolution possible under
the circumstances.

9. In communicating with the other, listen
attentively and speak so as to be understood: This
requires the active attempt to take the perspective
of the other and to check continually your success
in doing so. The feeling of being understood,
as well as effective communication, enormously facilitates constructive resolution.
10. Be alert to the natural tendencies to

bias-misperceptions, misjudgments, and stereotyped thinking-that commonly occur in yourself
as weU as the other during heated conflict. These
errors in perception and thought interfere
with communication, make empathy difficult, and impair problem-solving. These include black-white thinking, narrowing of
one's range of perceived options, and the
fundamental attribution error (the tendency to
attribute the aggressive actions of the other
to the other's personality while attributing
one's own aggressive actions to external
circumstances such as the other's hostile
actions).
11. Develop skills for dealing with difficult

conflicts so that you are not helpless nor hopeless
when confronting those who are more poweifu~
those who don't want to engage in constructive
conflict resolution, or those who use dirty tricks.
Fisher and Ury (1981) have discussed these
matters very helpfully in the final three
chapters of their well-known book, Getting to
Yes. We shall not summarize their discussion
but rather emphasize several basic principles. First, it is important to recognize that
you become less vulnerable to intimidation
if you realize that you usually have a choice:
You don't have to stay in the relationship
with the other.
Second, it is useful to be open and explicit to the other about what he or she is
doing that upsets you and to indicate the ef-

231

fects that these actions are having on you. If
the other asserts that you have misunderstood or denies doing what you have stated,
and if you are not persuaded, be forthright
in maintaining that this remains a problem
for you: Discuss with the other what could
be done to remove the problem (your misunderstanding of the other, your need for
reassurance, or the other's noxious behavior).
Third, it is wise to avoid reciprocating
the other's noxious behavior and to avoid
attacking the other personally for his or her
behavior (i.e., criticize the behavior and not
the person); such reciprocation often leads
to an escalating vicious spiral.
A phrase that we have found useful in
characterizing the stance you should take in
difficult (as well as easy) conflicts is to be
"firm, fair, and friendly." Firm in resisting intimidation, exploitation, and dirty tricks;
fair in holding to your moral principles and
not reciprocating the other's immoral behavior despite his or her provocations; and
friendly in the sense that you are willing to
initiate and reciprocate cooperation.

12. Know yourself and how you typically respond in different sorts of conflict situations. Different people deal with their anxieties
about conflict in different ways. Being aware
of your predispositions may allow you to
modify them when they are inappropriate
in a given conflict. We have found it useful
to emphasize six different conflict reaction
patterns to characterize a person's predispositions to respond to conflict.
a) Conflict avoidance vs. excessive involvement in conflict. Conflict avoidance is expressed in denial, repression, suppression,
avoidance, and continuing postponement
of facing the conflict, as well as in premature conflict resolution. Excessive involvement in conflict is sometimes expressed in a
"macho" attitude, a chip on one's shoulder,
a tendency to seek out conflict to demon-

232
strate that one is not afraid of conflict. Presumably, a healthy predisposition involves
the readiness to confront conflict when it
arises without needing to seek it out or to be
preoccupied with it.
b) Hard vs. soft. Some people are prone
to take a tough, aggressive, dominating, unyielding response to conflict fearing that
otherwise they will be taken advantage of
and be considered soft. Others are afraid
that they will be considered to be mean,
hostile, or presumptuous, and as a consequence, they are excessively gentle and
unassertive. A more appropriate stance is
firm support of your own interests combined with a ready responsiveness to the interests of the other.
c) Rigid vs. loose. Some people immediately seek to organize and to control the situation by setting the agenda, defining the
rules, etc. At the other extreme, some people are aversive to anything that seems formal, limiting, controlling, or constricting.
An approach which allows for both orderliness and flexibility in dealing with the conflict seems more constructive than one that
is either compulsive in its organizing or in
its rejection of orderliness.
d) Intellectual vs. emotional. At one extreme, emotion is repressed, controlled, or
isolated so that no relevant emotion is felt
or expressed. At the other extreme, there
are some people who believe that only feelings are real and that words and ideas are
not to be taken seriously unless they are
thoroughly soaked in emotion. The ideal
mode of communication combines thought
and affect: The thought is supported by the
affect, and the affect is explained by the
thought.
e) Escalating vs. minimizing. At one extreme, some people tend to experience any
given conflict in the largest possible terms.
The issues are cast so that what is at stake involves one's self, one's family, one's ethnic

Peacemaking

group, precedence for all-time, or the like.
At the other extreme are people who tend
to minimize the seriousness of their conflicts. The result can produce serious misunderstandings and insufficient effort needed
to resolve the conflict constructively.
£) Compulsively revealing vs. compulsively
concealing. At one extreme are people who
feel a compulsion to reveal whatever they
think and feel about the other, including
their suspicions, hostilities, and fears in the
most blunt, unrationalized, and unmodulated manner. Or they may feel they have to
communicate every doubt, sense of inadequacy, or weakness they have about themselves. At the other extreme are people who
feel that they cannot reveal any of their feelings or thoughts without seriously damaging
their relationship to the other. You, in effect, should be open and honest in communication but, appropriately so, taking into
account realistically the consequences of
what you say or do not say.

13. FinaUy, throughout conflict, you should
remain a moral person-i.e., a person who is caring and just-and should consider the other as a
member oj your moral community-i.e., as someone who is entitled to care and justice. In the
heat of conflict, there is often the tendency
to shrink your moral community and to exclude the other from it: This permits behavior toward the other which you would otherwise consider morally reprehensible. Such
behavior escalates conflict and turns it in
the direction of violence and destruction.
There has been increased research on
the effects of conflict resolution training in
schools, but much of it is confounded by the
effects of other interventions such as programs on mediation and cooperative learning. The results generally echo many of the
findings of mediation programs in schools.
However, two important studies should be
mentioned. A two-year longitudinal field

Introducing Cooperation and Conflict Resolution into Schools: A Systems Approach

study in an alternative high school was conducted by our center, The International Center
for Cooperation and Conflict Resolution, on the
effects of training in conflict resolution and
cooperative learning on at-risk students from
an alternative urban high school (Deutsch,
1993). This study found that training in these
processes had a variety of positive effects.
Trained students "... exhibited improvement in the management of personal conflicts, experienced increased social support,
and felt less victimized by others. Enhanced
relationships with others led to increased
self-esteem and more frequent positive feelings of well-being among these students, as
well as a decrease in feelings of anxiety and
depression. Higher self-esteem, in turn, produced a greater sense of personal control
and ... led to higher academic performan~e
(p. 42). Again, this stUdy speaks to the benefits in school systems of combining conflict
resolution training with other types of training, such as cooperative learning.
Other interesting findings emerged in a
recent evaluation study in elementary
schools of the Resolving Conflict Creatively
Program in New York City (Roderick, 1998).
These researchers found that, irrespective
of their participation in the RCCP training,
all children in the study got worse in the
course of the school year in terms of how
they thought about conflict and the behavioral strategies they exhibited. The children
participating in the study showed, on average, "higher mean levels of aggressive fantasies, hostile attributional biases, aggressive
strategies, and conduct problems and lower
mean levels of competent strategies ... " (p.
4). What they also found, however, was that
in the classrooms where teachers taught the
most RCCP lessons, children got worse at a
slower rate. This study also indicated that
there are significant problems in schools
with implementing training at the classroom level (in terms of teachers effectively

233

training students and committing to the
trainings for the long-term) and with more
general organizational readiness (in terms
of long-term administration, teacher, and
student "buy-in" and commitment).

Level 3: Pedagogy
To further enhance the learning of conflict
resolution skills from specific units or
courses, students can practice these skills in
their regular subject areas with two teaching
strategies-cooperative learning and academic controversy.

Cooperative Learning. Although cooperative learning has many ancestors
and can be traced back for at least 2,000
years, it is only in this century that there has
been development of a theoretical base, systematic research, and systematic teaching
procedures for it. Five key elements are involved in cooperative learning Gohnson,
Johnson, & Holubec, 1986). The most important is positive interdependence. Students
must perceive that it is to their advantage if
other students learn well and that it is to
their disadvantage if others do poorly. This
can be achieved in many different wayse.g., through mutual goals (goal interdependence); division of labor (task interdependence); dividing resources, materials,
or information among group members (resource interdependence); and by giving
joint rewards (reward interdependence).
In addition, cooperative learning requires face-to-face interaction among students
in which their positive interdependence can
be expressed in behavior. It also requires individual accountability of each member of the
cooperative learning group to one another
for mastering the material to be learned
and for providing appropriate support and
assistance to each other. Further, it is neces-

234

Peacemaking

Case Study 4: Hate Speech on Campus
In September of 1993, a student committee at Trenton State College in New Jersey invited Khallid Abdul Muhammad to speak at the college during African American History
month. This invitation came just after Mr. Muhammad had delivered a "vicious antiSemitic, anti-White attack" during a speech at Kean College in New Jersey. As a result,
the college erupted into turmoil for several months. A schism emerged amongst students, faculty, and the administration. Several public protests were held, both in opposition to and in support of the proposed speaker. The media became a constant presence
on campus and served to provoke the divisions. One student leader began to receive
death threats. On the one hand, such speakers are the glory of academe: The embodiment of free speech and free inquiry. Yet they also embody a classic tension in a free society between free speech and provocation, exposure of issues needing debate, and collusion in spreading harmful ideas
Ultimately, Mr. Muhammad was allowed to speak, but the event was framed constructively by student leaders and administrators as part of a larger educational experience for the college. The college held several events in the weeks following the speech
that gave students the opportunity to air their views and discuss the issues raised by
Mr. Muhammad. In the end, the issues were thoroughly articulated and more deeply
understood.

sary for the students to be trained in the interpersonal and small group skills needed for
effective cooperative work in groups. Finally, cooperative learning also involves providing students with the time and procedures for processing or analyzing how well
their learning groups are functioning and
what can be done to improve how they work
together.
Hundreds of research studies have been
done on the relative impact of cooperative,
competitive, and individualistic learning experiences (see Johnson & Johnson, 1983,
1989). The results are quite consistent. Students develop considerably greater commitment, helpfulness, and caring for each
other regardless of differences in ability
level, ethnic background, gender, social
class, or physical disability. They develop
more skill in taking the perspective of others, emotionally as well as cognitively. They
develop greater self-esteem and a greater
sense of being valued by their classmates.

They develop more positive attitudes toward
learning, toward school, and toward their
teachers. They usually learn more in the
subjects that they are studying by cooperative learning and they also acquire more of
the skills and attitudes that are conducive to
effective collaboration with others. Moreover, when used by skillful teachers, cooperative education can help children overcome
an alienated or hostile orientation to others
which they have developed as a result of
their prior experiences.
However, it is important to realize that
although the concept of cooperative learning is simple, its practice is not. Changing a
classroom and school so that they emphasize cooperative learning requires that teachers learn many new skills, among them: ways
of teaching students cooperative skills; how
to monitor and intervene in the student
work-groups to improve students' collaborative skills; how to develop curriculum materials to promote positive interdependence;

Introducing Cooperation and Conflict Resolution into Schools: A Systems Approach

and ways of integrating the cooperative
learning with competitive and individualistic learning activities. Commonly, it takes
three or four years before teachers feel wellskilled in the use of cooperative learning.
Sometimes parents and teachers have
misconceptions about cooperative learning
which make them resistant to it initially.
There are several myths that it is well to confront (see johnson, johnson, & Holubec,
1986, for a more extensive discussion):
1. Cooperative learning does not prepare
students for the adult world, which is highly CO'lllr
petitive. There are two points to be made:
(a) the ability of people to work cooperatively is crucial to building and maintaining
stable marriages, families, communities,
friendships, work careers, and a peaceful
world. The reality is that individual as well
as corporate success depends on effective
cooperation and teamwork (Kahn, 1986);
(b) schools, even with extensive cooperative
learning, would provide much experience
with individual and group competition. The
issue is not to eliminate competition and individualism from the schools but to provide
a more appropriate balance with cooperation. Furthermore, our impression is that
schools rarely teach in a systematic way generalizable skills in how to be an effective
competitor.
2. High-achieving students are penalized fly
working in heterogeneoUs cooperative learning
groups. The research evidence (see johnson
& johnson, 1989) clearly indicates that
high-achieving students learn at least as
much in cooperatively structured classrooms as they do in the more traditional
ones. They frequently learn more: especially
because teaching less able students often solidifies their own learning. It should also be
recognized that cooperative learning does
not imply that high-achievers must learn
and work at the same pace as low-achievers.

235

Nor does it imply that high-achievers will
lack ample opportunities to work alone or
to work cooperatively with other highachievers.
3. Grading is unfair in cooperative learning.
Group grading is one way of creating positive interdependence. But, even when
group grades are used, individual grades
may also be used. Although students sometimes complain about grades, complaints
appear to be less frequent in cooperative
learning classrooms than in the more traditional ones.
4. The good students do all the work. The
lazy students get a free ride. A central feature
in cooperative learning is individual accountability. If a student is "goofing off,"
this becomes a problem for the group
which, with encouragement and appropriate help from the teacher, the group can
usually solve. In solving the problem, the
group learns a great deal and the poorly
motivated, alienated, withdrawn, or reclusive student often benefits enormously as he
or she becomes an active participant in cooperative learning.

Level 4: The School Culture
Most training and intervention concerning
cooperation and conflict resolution in
schools throughout the country focuses primarily on children. This focus denies the reality that most adults working in the school
systems have had little preparation, training, or encouragement to conduct their
own work collaboratively or to manage their
own conflicts constructively. A culture of
competition, authoritarianism, coercion,
and contention still appears to reign
supreme in schools in this country (Glasser,
1992; Raider, 1995).
In order for school systems to take full
advantage of the gains brought by peer mediation programs and cooperation and

Peacemaking

236

Case Study 5: Melting Pot or Salad Bowl?
The J. P. Rockefeller High School is a relatively new school. initially organized as an elite
science research school designed to attract science-oriented students. For the first ten
years. it achieved this purpose. winning countless scholarships. awards. and commendations for its students. Recently the school experienced a demographic shift from a predominantly White student body to one which is now predominantly composed of students
of color. The present student population is approximately 40 percent African-American.
30 percent Latino-American. 25 percent European-American. and 5 percent AsianAmerican. The faculty is 90 percent European-American and 10 percent AfricanAmerican. The Parents Association is 100 percent European-American.
Last year the staff decided to become part of the city-wide Site Based Management
initiative. The new SBM committee is composed of 18 members consisting of the principal. the union chairperson. a representative from the Parents Association. a student. and
elected teachers' representatives from each academic department.
At the last SBM meeting. the teacher from the math department proposed that an
official voting seat be designated for an African-American teacher. After much heated discussion. the proposal was voted down. But the problems raised did not go away. Much
personal bitterness ensued. Many members of the SBM committee felt that it would be
unfair to give a special seat to the Black teachers without opening up other seats for
Latino teachers. Jewish teachers. etc. They also deeply resented the implication that they
were racist because they voted against the measure. Members of the Black Teachers
Caucus (BTC) felt that the school's leadership had been unresponsive to the changes reflected in the student body and that the SBM needed their input to shape the future of the
school.
An external conflict resolution consultant was brought into the school to help address
the conflict. After a series of initial interviews. the consultant implemented a three-stage
approach. First. she addressed the divisive climate of the school by holding several ethnic
celebrations in an attempt to broaden cultural awareness within the school. Second. she
offered training in collaborative negotiations skills to members of the SBM in preparation
for addressing the conflict. Finally. the SBM worked together to design a process for the
committee that they were comfortable with. They designated one seat a "multicultural"
seat. which would be filled by a Committee on Multiculturalism (which was also established through this conflict) and represent the largest minority group present in the school
on any given year.

conflict resolution curricula, the adults in
schools also must be trained. Despite significant resistance, adult training can be accomplished through two means: individuallevel training in collaborative negotiation
skills and work to restructure the school's
adult dispute-management system. Collaborative negotiation training for adults often
parallels the training offered to students,

but focuses on problems that are more germane to the personal and professional life
of adults. We stress that all adults in schools
should be trained: teachers, administrators,
counselors, bus drivers, lunch room aides,
para-professionals, librarians, coaches, etc.
Such extensive training can be expensive,
but the costs can be significantly reduced by
the training of in-house staff initially, who

Introducing Cooperation and Conflict Resolution into Schools: A Systems Approach

then become trainers themselves for other
school personnel. Such training engenders
commitment from the adults. In so doing, it
can help to institutionalize the changes
through adult modeling of the desired attitudes and behaviors for the students, and by
encouraging the development of new
nonns and expectations around conflict
and conflict management throughout the
school community.

237

ing the parents and day care staff at several
pre-schools on the East Coast as part of a
larger research project. Preliminary findings have been very promising (Horowitz,
Boardman, & Cochran, 1998). We encourage school administrators and conflict resolution practitioners to envision the school
system as embedded in a larger community
system that, ideally, can be brought into this
change process in order to better stabilize
school change.

Level 5: The Broader Community
Collaborative trainings and processes need
not and should not stop at the school doors.
In fact, many of the student conflicts originate outside of school, at home, on the
school bus, or at social events. Parents, caretakers, local clergy, local police officers,
members of local community organizations,
and others should be trained in conflict resolution and involved in the overall planning
process for preventing destructive conflict
among children and youths. In Case Study 6,
the youth officer's awareness of the school's
mediation program allowed for the possibility of the conflict being handled by the
school and not by juvenile court. As an example of this type of community involvement, staff from our center have been train-

CONCLUSION
Efforts to transfonn schools towards more
peaceful and collaborative systems present
several challenges for theorists, researchers,
and practitioners. First, there is the issue of
readiness. Research has shown that unless
schools and districts are sufficiently motivated to embrace a change initiative such
as this, it is likely to fail (Sarason, 1982;
Roderick, 1998). This readiness must exist
for a majority of the system, including regents, board members, superintendents,
principals, teachers, other professional
staff, students, and parents. One method
for assessing organizational readiness in
schools is being used in the Learning Communities Project, initiated by New York

Case Study 6: New York City Youth Officer
Recently, a conflict that began in a high school in New York City spilled out into the street.
Earlier in the day, some members of an Asian gang and some members of an Hispanic
gang had gotten into a screaming match in the hallway of the school over one youth
"sucking his teeth" in the direction of another. Later, on the street, a member of the Hispanic gang flipped a piece of ice onto a member of the other gang. A fight immediately ensued, which was broken up by the local precinct's youth officer. Because the officer was
familiar with the mediation program at the school and trusted the competence of the director of the program, he chose to bring the conflict back to the school for mediation instead of to the precinct and the juvenile justice system. This allowed for an agreement between the youths involved that would have been unlikely if the incident had gone to court.

238
City's Resolving Conflict Creatively Pro-

gram (Roderick, 1998). For a school to be
included in the project, the faculty must
vote 70 percent or more in favor of its implementation. This approach could be
taken for entire school districts or even for
state-wide school initiatives. Administrators
and conflict practitioners need to work to
develop more innovative methods of fostering readiness throughout school systems
(see Coleman, 1997, for a discussion of fostering readiness).
There is also an emerging concern
about whether the current models in use in
most conflict resolution trainings in schools
are implicitly oriented toward Western
males and are therefore not sufficiently sensitive and respectful of "difference" (gender, race, culture, class, etc.). For example,
Kolb and Coolidge (1991) contend that
many of the commonly prescribed conflict
resolution processes (such as recommending to "separate the people from the problem," taking a problem-solving orientation
to conflict, and the emphasis in integrative
negotiation on interests and rights) are gendered and neglect women's preferences for
processes such as dialogue (enhanced understanding through interaction) and for
an ethic in conflict focused more on relational harmony and care. They recommend
an approach to conflict based on: 1) a relational view of others, 2) a view of individual
agency wI:tich is embedded in relationships,
3} an approach to controlling a situation
through the empowerment of others, and
4} problem-solving through dialogue.
Similar concerns have been raised regarding the introduction of Western conflict
resolution ideas and methods across cultures. Faure (1995) has argued that the Western psychological paradigm that frames our
thinking about conflict resolution is based
on certain assumptions about constructs
such as conflict, aggression, time, and cause and

Peacemaking

effiet that are not universally shared by members of other cultures. He has called for a radical"re-problematization" of our thinking on
conflict resolution which would entail: abandoning prior theorizing and research and
starting afresh, integrating cross-cultural perspectives at the beginning of the process, emphasizing non-American data, and using
non-verbal instruments. Responding to comparable concerns of Western bias in training
approaches, Lederach (1995) argues that the
traditional "prescriptive" approaches to
training, which view the trainer as the expert
and participants as passive recipients of predetermined knowledge, models, and skills,
are often inappropriate for application in diverse settings. Instead, the context expertise
of the participants should be emphasized,
where the trainer and the participants together create a new model of conflict resolution specifically suited to the resources and
constraints of the context. Our view on this
issue is that scholars and practitioners need
to begin to better distinguish between those
elements of conflict resolution that are universal and therefore applicable across cultures from those that are not. For example,
Deutsch (2000) has proposed that certain
human values (such as reciprocity and nonviolence) and the relationship between certain
theoretical constructs (such as cooperation
and constructive conflict resolution) are universal. The cross-cultural value of these more
fundamental elements must be seen as separate from the benefits of certain prescribed
processes (such as "separating the people
from the problem," the open expression of
needs, or analyzing issues), which are likely
to vary considerably across cultures.
A third area of interest for scholars and
practitioners is in better assuring the age-appropriateness of training in conflict resolution. We must devise more developmentally
appropriate models for training youth
(Crawford & Bodine, 1997). For example,

Introducing Cooperation and Conflict Resolution into Schools: A Systems Approach

younger students often lack the basic social
skills which are necessary to resolve conflicts, and so need training in these skills
(communication, cooperation, affirmation,
and bias awareness) prior to training in conflict resolution or problem-solving. Repeated experiences with problem-solving
are designed as part of the conflict resolution training in order to promote the acquisition and stabilization of skills, language,
and emotion relevant to managing conflict.
Finally, there is increasing recognition
of the problems of implementing any lasting change in schools of any sort and the
need to identify the processes and conditions which give rise to a successful implementation (Roderick, 1998). Introducing
cooperation and conflict resolution concepts and practices into schools often involves significant systemic change. It requires, in a sense, a paradigm shift in how
people see and approach problems. Fostering this type of fundamental change in the
norms and practices of a system requires
that people have the necessary skills to motivate and persuade, organize, mobilize,
and institutionalize the change. These
skills need to be more adequately integrated into the training of school system
personnel.

239

In emphasizing cooperation and conflict
resolution processes as the core of any comprehensive program for a peaceful world, we
have been guided by the view that it takes
more than a single course to bring about fundamental change. Students need to have
continuing experiences of constructive conflict resolution as they learn different subjectmatters and an immersion in a school environment which provides these experiences.
The school should also act for the students as
a model of cooperative relations and constructive resolution of conflicts. This pervasive and extended experience, combined
with training in the concepts and principles
of cooperative work and of conflict resolution, should enable the student to develop
generalizable attitudes and skills which
would be strong enough to resist the countervailing influences that are so prevalent in
their non-school environments. Hopefully,
by the time they become adults, they would
have developed the attitudes, the knowledge,
and the skills which would enable them to
cooperate with others in resolving constructively the inevitable conflicts that will occur
among and within nations, ethnic groups,
communities, and families.

CHAPTER 20

REDUCING TRAUMA DURING
ETHNO-POLITICAL CONFLICT:
A PERSONAL ACCOUNT
OF PSYCHO-SOCIAL WORK
UNDER WAR CONDITIONS
IN BOSNIA
Inger Agger1

INTRODUCTION
When I told a colleague with whom I had
worked in Sarajevo that I was going to write
a chapter on trauma reduction in Bosnia,
he said that if I only had one chapter, I
should just cite Bosnian poems. Otherwise,
how would I be able to convey the pain and
the beauty of people who before the war
were living together, one might even say as
a married couple, but were now separated
and divided by fear and mistrust, while still
longing for each other. The bitter betrayals
of the war left the marriage scattered; we
were many from the outside, from the "international community" who tried to help
the partners get back together and rescue

the marriage. The question was, however,
whether that was also the wish of the partners themselves at that time.
I will follow the advice of my colleague
and quote the final lines of the poem,
"Burning Skyscraper," written during the
war by a Bosnian poet (Alikadic, 1995):
Mter the fire, there is no illusion
scene of fire, ash,
emptiness is starting.
If I am a poet after all this evil
my poetry is a cry.

Mter the war, there is no illusion, there
is an emptiness, as the poet expressed it.
During the war, the main task was to help

II wish to convey my gratitude to the Area for Gender and Social Inequality at the Center for Development Research,
Copenhagen, for providing me with office facilities and financial support during the writing of this chapter.

240

Reducing Trauma during Ethno-Political "conflict

the population survive-attempt to reduce
trauma-and psycho-social assistance had
the form of crisis therapy. Mer the war, the
slow process of healing the trauma following evil perpetrated by neighbor against
neighbor, brother against brother, must
start from ashes: a painful process of healing the psychological and social trauma
caused by ethno-political warfare where the
fighting crossed ethnic identity lines.
However, it is necessary to grasp the
specific dynamics of ethno-political trauma
in order to understand how new cycles of
violence can be interrupted. In Bosnia it
was evident that trauma from the Second
World War played an important role in
the psychological reactions seen fifty years
later. At that time, not much attention was
given to trauma reduction, to transforming
the violent narrative constructions from
the war into reconciliatory narratives
when the post-war socialist society was
built. On the contrary, certain narratives
were suppressed (those telling about the
atrocities committed by Tito's side) while
others were turned into heroic stories
(those telling about the atrocities committed by the fascist side). Naturally, the suppression of "wrong" narratives did not
make them disappear from people's memories, nor did this suppression heal the
wounds, which became open and sore
again fifty years later.
In the following, I will first try to convey
the core of this trauma by relating some
case stories illustrating how people in
Bosnia felt the impact of ethno-political warfare on their lives. I will end this first part by
summarizing the insights I developed into
ethno-political trauma during my four years
of work in the region. In the last part of the
chapter, I will focus on some of the methods that were developed to reduce trauma
during the war and in its immediate aftermath.

241

THE TRAUMA OF
ETHNO-POLITICAL CONFLICT
Just after the war ended, I met with a Bosnian woman in one of the m;gor towns of
Bosnia. She worked in an international humanitarian aid project helping refugees return to their homes. She was a psychologist,
and she was in a so-called "mixed marriage,"
that is, she and her husband belonged to
different ethnic groups. Together with their
son they had fled to the town where we met
a year after the war started. I asked her if
she wanted to return now to their hometown. "No," she said, "I am glad I left that
town, I never want to return to that place."
"But why," I asked, ''what happened to you
there?"
In our hometown both my husband and I
belonged to minority groups, but we had
never thought about that before the war. We
had many friends in the town, good jobs,
and a nice apartment When the war started,
our friends suddenly stopped calling us.
When we called them, they made excuses
for not being able to see us: We are sorry, we
are so busy, they said. We had many problems just getting the food most necessary for
suIVival, and none of our fonner friends
helped us. Well, there was acrually one family
that helped us, and I will never forget that,
but that was the only example. When my father became ill, they would not send an ambulance from the hospital; it doesn't matter,
we were told, he is just a (and then they
mentioned the ethnic group to which my father belonged).
"During a certain period, I had to stand
at the market and sell our things to buy food
for us. I will never forget the humiliation of
that After a while, the situation became unbearable; we felt that we did not have any future in that town, so we exchanged apartments with a minority family from this city
and that has worked OK. Now we are in a
place where my husband belongs to the ma-

242
jority group, we both have jobs, and our son
is well. We have not told him that his
mother belongs to a minority group.
Now, after the war has ended, our
friends from the hometown have begun calIing us and sending us letters. How are you,
they ask, but I don't trust them anymore.
They have shown 1TUI their real faces. If I ever
visit my hometown again, I am going to telI
them, but I don't think they will understand; they will have lots of excuses. I will
never forget alI the pain we went through. I
never thought that I would have the
strength to live through all that happened
to us in this war, but I did have the strength.
That was something I discovered from this
tragedy.
This woman had not lost any of her
close family members during the war, or
been in a prison camp; she had not had the
type of traumatic experiences associated
with the war in Bosnia. But her story is typical of the post-war situation in a traumatized
society, so vividly illustrated by her statements about fonner neighbors and friends:
"They have shown me their real faces." This
sense of betrayal and mistrust pervades the
environment wherever one goes; "betrayal"
is at the core of the trauma.
Shortly after I met this woman, I was actually scheduled to visit her hometown and
give a lecture on the "testimony method"
(Agger, 1994; Agger & Jensen, 1996)2 to a
group of psychologists, psychiatrists, and so-

2The Testimony Method was developed by Chilean psychologists during the dictatorship. Originally, the testimony was meant to document human rights violations.
but while working with this, psychologists discovered
the therapeutic value of giving testimony. Actually, the
testimony method is a unique method which combines
both private and political realms, documentation and
catharsis, legal and psycho-therapeutic objectives. In
Denmark, we have further developed the method for
psycho-social work with refugees.

Peacemaking
cial workers who were participating in a training program on post-traumatic therapy. I
talked about the importance of not using testimonies to increase tensions among ethnic
groups, and I said: "Now at a time when
Bosnia has been in a process of peace for
more than a year, the main issues are related
to confidence-building, dialogue, and reconciliation among the three ethnic groups who
fought each other." I could hardly finish the
sentence because of the uproar which started
among the participants. The trigger words
were: "the three ethnic groups who fought
each other." They shouted angrily at me, and
I felt the impact of their aggression as a wave
coming towards me to silence me.
According to their model of the world,
there were not three ethnic groups who had
fought each other. There was an aggressor
and a victim, and the aggressor was evil
while the victim was good. How could the
international community expect the victim
to reconcile with the perpetrator? Such efforts showed a contempt for the victim and
the suffering. And so it went for a while.
There were 35 people in the room, and
maybe ten of them spoke angrily; the others
were silent and looked uncomfortable.
Mter the lecture (which I was fmally allowed to continue), I had a long talk with
my interpreter. She was a journalist from
that town, and she told me that she was a
child of a mixed marriage and had herself
been in a mixed marriage which was destroyed by the war. She had in her writings
tried to change the black-and-white image
which was so dominant among the leading
class in the town, but now she had stopped
trying to change anything. She just wanted
to live quietly with her mother. The response I had gotten, she told me, was typical
of people with positions in the system. To
get such positions it was usually necessary to
be on good tenns with the ruling ethno-

Reducing Trauma during Ethno-Political Conflict

nationalistic party whose power was based
on the vote of "their own" ethnic group.
Those in power needed the enemy images
of the other ethnic groups to boost support
for their party. Ordinary people, she said,
were much more tolerant and wanted to
greet their old neighbors again. They actually longed for them, but many were also
afraid. Jobs were scarce, and no one wanted
to risk their jobs by having views that differed from that of the ruling nationalist
party, so they preferred to be silent. At the
end of our talk she talked about "forgiveness." That is the key word, she said. ''That
is something all religions emphasize, the
Orthodox, the Catholic, and the Muslim,
along with acknowledging one's own evil
side, acknowledging that the victim can also
become the aggressor."
From the story about the woman who
fled the indirect repression she experienced
in her town, we know those who perceived
themselves as victims in that town were also
seen as aggressors by others. In the journalist's model of the world, there was no blackand-white split, no narcissistic regression as
a defense against the threat, but she was sad
and felt hopeless about the prospects for
peaceful reintegration of the divided ethnic
groups. She was a child of a mixed marriage
and had herself been in a mixed marriage.
This is significant and can contribute to the
explanation of her more tolerant and mature viewpoint.
To understand the social and psychological factors behind "ethnic cleansing"3

3The tenn "ethnic cleansing" was coined during the
recent war in Bosnia and denotes the direct or indirect expulsion by one ethnic group of other ethnic
groups from a certain territory. While the tenn is new,
the act of ethnic cleansing is not a novel strategy. It
has been applied in many previous conflicts around
the world.

243

and persecution of mixed marriages, one
must examine the concept of ethnicity in
more detail. Usually, ethnicity denotes a
certain cultural, social, and psychological
identity, something which is fluid and dynamic. So it was in Bosnia before the war.
However, if one wants to find an important
cultural indicator of ethnicity in the Balkan
context, one must look at religion: Serbs are
Orthodox, Croats are Catholic, and Bosnians are Muslim. 4 The confusing factor is
that many people were not religious at the
start of the war. During the war there was a
new religious surge which was associated
with post-Communist politics, but probably
also with a need for spiritual help and protection in an insecure wartime and post-war
situation.
In the new "ethnic nationalism" which
tried to equate ethnicity with nationality, we
find a very static concept of ethnicity. This
type of nationalism claims "that an individual's deepest attachments are inherited, not
chosen" (Ignatieff, 1993, p. 4), and it "legitimizes an appeal to blood loyalty and ...
blood sacrifice" (p. 6). In the political and
economic crisis which developed with the
breakup of Yugoslavia as a nation-state,
"people wanted to know who to trust, and
who to call their own. Ethnic nationalism

"'In the countries which are now Bosnia (Bosnia-Herzegovina), Croatia, and Yugoslavia (Serbia-Montenegro),
and which before the war were part of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, the main ethnic groups are the
Croats, the Serbs, and the Muslims. Although these
three ethnic groups lived among each other and intermarried in all mree countries, there were a ml!iority of
Croats in Croatia, and of Serbs in Yugoslavia. In BosniaHerzegovina, there was a real mixture of all three ethnicities: Bosnian Croats, Bosnian Serbs, and Bosnian
Muslims. However, while the Bosnian Croats and Bosnian Serbs had a "motherland" in Croatia and Yugoslavia, the Muslims primarily lived in Bosnia, which
thereby became their only motherland. Ethnic clean~
ing in Bosnia became especially vicious because of its
multi-ethnic composition.

244
provided an answer that was intuitively obvious: only trust your own blood" (p. 6). Nationalism is the most basic form of belonging; "there is no other form of belongingto your family, work or friends-which is secure" (p. 6) if you do not have the protection of your own ethnic group.
The loss of trust in a safe and predictable world engendered by betrayal by
one's previously friendly neighbors is one
important traumatic experience. However,
the feeling of having been betrayed by one's
own family is yet another, and much
deeper, trauma experienced by many people in mixed marriages. A number of children from mixed marriages "felt that some
of their family members were dangerous
and threatening. Unfortunately, they had to
take sides. Even when parents stayed together, there were always relatives fighting
on different sides" (Ispanovic-Radojkovic et
al., 1993, p. 63).
According to a census taken in 1981, 16
percent of all children in Bosnia were from
mixed marriages (Oeberg, 1996). Some
sources say that 40 percent of marriages in
Sarajevo were mixed before the war (Petrovic, 1996). If we take the former Yugoslavia
as a whole, 12 percent of all marriages were
mixed according to censuses taken from
1962 to 1982 (Botev & Wagner, 1993).
Mixed marriages represent the most radical
negation of the ideology of ethnic purity
and ethnic cleansing. Therefore, such marriages are of course dangerous and in danger in a nationalistic environment. The present statistics of mixed marriages are not
known, but probably a large percentage of
the 800,000 people who fled to Western Europe, the United States, and other countries
during the war were of mixed ethnic origin
or living in mixed marriages.
Almost one-third of the population fled
from Bosnia during the war, and a similar
amount became displaced within Bosnia.

Peacemaking
This means that 60 percent of the population had to leave their homes after the war
broke out (Media Plan, 1996), and more
than half of the population lost their
homes. Trauma in Bosnia is about these
types of events: the loss of home, the loss of
trust, all the injuries which must be healed.
Therefore, the return of the refugees and
the displaced to their homes, which is a significant part of the Peace Agreement signed
in Dayton in November 1995, is of great importance to the peace process and for the
society to heal.
However, only a small percentage of the
refugees and displaced have actually returned to their homes-far less than expected-and almost all of those who have
returned have gone back to an area where
their ethnic group is in the majority. Most
local authorities simply do not want minority people to return, but many people told
me that they were sick and tired of the official separatist propaganda beamed daily by
the state-controlled media. They said that
they actually missed the times when one's
ethnicity did not matter.
In fact, people on all sides in Bosnia despised the entire concept of ethnic purity.
But even after the war, powers were trying
to prevent the return process-ethnonationalist politicians and their followers
profited economically from upholding the
ideology of ethnicity, ethnic cleansing, and
purity. With a few exceptions, such as mixed
communities in Sarajevo and Tuzla, there
have been numerous, well-documented instances of overt discrimination or violence;
incidents commonly cited include forced
evictions from homes, beatings, and arbitrary arrests and detention.
The war meant loss of home to more
than half of the population, but it also
meant loss of life to many. Although it is
very difficult to obtain reliable statistics
about the loss of life during a war, accord-

Reducing Trauma during Ethno-Political Conflict

ing to a research institute in Sar;gevo, 6 percent of the population are estimated to have
been killed, or to be missing (Media Plan,
1996). This of course affects a large number
of family members. The relatives of the almost 20,000 missing (mostly men) are
mostly women and children (wives, mothers, sons, and daughters) and are a vast
mental health challenge in themselves. In
post-war Bosnia we see many experiences
among these relatives similar to what we saw
in the families of the missing in Latin America. This is a situation of impossible choices.
As long as it has not been proven that the
missing person is actually dead, the family
cannot go through a mourning process, say
good-bye to the person and move on in
their lives. If, on the other hand, the family
members make the decision themselves that
the disappeared is dead, this can, psychologically speaking, feel as if they are "killing the
person. " Latin American therapists have
worked extensively with this problem and
developed special therapeutic approaches
to it (Agger &Jensen, 1996).
In an investigation made at the end of
the war (Agger & Mimica, 1996), 2,500
women who were receiving assistance in psycho-social programs funded by the European Union reported the following distribution of traumatic experiences: 80 percent
had had life-endangering experiences; 75
percent had lost their home and property;
60 percent had suffered hunger and thirst;
50 percent had felt betrayed by their neighbors; 30 percent had been physically ill; 25
percent had suffered torture or extremely
bad treatment; 20 percent had felt betrayed
by family and friends; 10 percent had suffered severe physical harm or injury; and 3
percent had been raped. From these answers we concluded that the most frequent
traumatic experiences were those related to
ethnic cleansing: the life-threatening expulsion from and loss of home; the flight

245

which included periods of hunger and
thirst; and the betrayal by neighbors who
often actively helped with the expulsion. Of
these experiences, the betrayal is often
mentioned by the women as the most damaging experience. This 'Judas motif"
(Schwartz, 1996) is pervasive and fundamental for understanding the hatred and
the trauma following ethnic cleansing in
this war. However, to these stories of betrayal should be added the traumatic
residues of the Second World War in which
"the theme of betrayal runs like a bitter
stream" (Schwartz, 1996, p. 24).
From the Second World War there was a
"powerful reservoir of traumatic memory"
(Denich, 1994, p. 367) of the atrocities committed, which also at that time were fueled by
ethnic ideology. After the war, when Tito be~
came President itwas forbidden to speak publicly about the atrocities--especially those
committed by the partisans that had been led
by Tito. When the present war started in 1991,
it was as if these memories that had been preserved in the icebox of history (Parin, 1994)
became defrosted, and began emanating the
taste and smell of all the pain, sorrow, guilt,
shame, and anger that had been conserved so
well by a policy of taboo and repression during the previous fifty years. After war broke
out, these feelings could be exploited by nationalist propaganda and become a vehicle
for ethnic cleansing.
The women also reported that they
felt lonely, frightened, sad, bitter, lost, and
restless. Many reported suicidal thoughts.
Maybe their state could best be described as
one of "demoralization" characterized by
helplessness (no one will help me) and
hopelessness (no one can help me), accompanied by anxiety, depression, and feelings
of isolation. Because an important feature
of this emotional state was the belief that
"no one can or will help me," it often required a m;gor effort by psycho-social assis-

Peacemaking

246
tance programs to motivate women to even
enter the program.
The arrival of many international teams
of experts on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD),5 led to posting the symptoms
of PTSD on blackboards allover Bosnia. Although many national mental health professionals tired of learning about these symptoms, some national high-ranking doctors
were very happy about the PTSD diagnosis:
Now there was a medical diagnosis for the
misery.
This was not always the feeling of the
survivors. Although PTSD is regarded as a
normal reaction to an abnonnal event, it is
a diagnosis, and it may well be felt stigmatizing by the survivors. As I heard some Bosnian refugees express it: "First we lose our
home, then we have to live as refugees in a
camp, and now they say that we are crazy."
Essentially they were saying: "Don't also deprive us of our sanity." As Chilean colleagues have expressed it Giving medical
diagnoses to victims of state terrorism can
be viewed as "blaming of the victim" (Agger
& Jensen, 1996). The Bosnians were not ill,
they were suffering from the war.
There was no doubt about the "traumatizing"6 effects of the war. It was traumatiz-

5post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) was included
as a category of the mental disorders in 1980 in the
third edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of
Mental Disurders (DSM-IlI) of the American Psychiatric
Association. The condition that PTSD defines was previously known as traumatic neurosis. shell shock, combat fatigue. K-Z syndromes. or other names (Wilson &
Raphael. 1993).
"rrauma means "wound." and the war was certainly
wounding the heart and soul of the people who experienced it I am using "trauma" and "traumatization" in
this sense. That does not imply that I regard the whole
population as mentally ill. Rather. it would be abnormal not to react to the sick context of etbno-political
warfare. I do not think that the symptoms of PTSD can
adequately describe the wound. although some people.
of course. did experience PTSD symptoms.

ing to not only the ordinary people, but also
the mental health professionals trying to
help them, including the international humanitarian aid workers living in the war
zone, often under dangerous and exhausting circumstances (Smith et al., 1996). However, it is my impression that the loss of trust
brought about by betrayal was the most serious and most difficult trauma to integrate
in a post-war peacebuilding context. The external consequences of the betrayal-the
life-threatening ethnic cleansing, loss of
family members, loss of home and property,
and loss of job-were all serious factors
which added bitterness, hate, and hopelessness to the loss of trust in humankind.

METHODS FOR REDUCING

THE TRAUMA
Both national and international mental
health professionals were feeling overwhelmed and helpless as the war developed
and the refugee crisis intensified. How
should one approach trauma and healing in
this new war context? In what ways were the
trauma similar and different from what we
already knew, and what were the best ways
to help the traumatized people? As a therapist from one Bosnian women's center told
me: "We had no knowledge of trauma and
how to deal with it. Often, we ourselves did
not know how we should cope with our own
traumatic experiences, or how we should
protect ourselves internally against the terrible stories we heard every day. In retrospect,
we often ask ourselves where we got the
strength and the courage to do this work,
but we were needed, and we could not and
would not sit around doing nothing surrounded by this madness. Who was going to
help these women, if we did not do it?"
Knowledge about trauma was definitely
needed, but the war necessitated other

Reducing Trauma during Ethno-Political Conflict

types of interventions than are usual under
peaceful North American or Western European circumstances. The Bosnian mental
health professionals had to find their own
way, the way most appropriate to the Bosnian culture and to the specific conditions of
war and ethnic cleansing. Many psychosocial programs were started to help the
traumatized, and various approaches were
tried.
There was a constant discussion as to
what was the right type of psycho-social assistance for the war-traumatized. Many psychologists and psychiatrists argued that the
correct type of assistance was psychotherapy. However, the thousands of traumatized
people made this option unrealistic. The
multitude of nongovernmental psychosocial programs being developed in the region worked mainly with other types of interventions: self-help groups, occupational
activities, counseling, and basic social support such as the establishment of day care
and kindergartens to help depressed mothers who were not able to take care of their
children.
The discussions about the right type of
interventions could be illustrated in the
"problem of the wool" which was debated
heatedly in the beginning of the war among
staff members in the various psycho-social
programs. Most of the programs were targeting women (the men were at the frontline), and it was a problem to motivate
many of the rural women to participate in
the psycho-social programs. There was then,
as now, a general attitude of shame connected to consulting psychologists and psychiatrists, which is associated with being
crazy. As a result, many programs began
contacting women by inviting them to participate in knitting groups where coffee was
served-a traditional form of self-healing
practiced by Bosnian women.

247
The coffee ritual is an important feature of Bosnian culture. For centuries, during coffee drinking and knitting traditional
Bosnian socks, trauma stories have been
told, listened to, and acknowledged by a
group of female friends and family. Most
psycho-social programs soon learned to
copy this procedure. As most of the women
were refugees without means, the program
had to supply them with wool and knitting
needles. Some staff members felt that this
was tantamount to buying their clients off.
Traditionally, patients pay therapists for
help, not the other way around. "The problem of the wool" was gradually solved as staff
of psycho-social programs accepted that distribution of wool was not hindering their
therapeutic efforts, but was, instead, a practical way of establishing trust and group
feeling and of providing useful activities for
those women who did not want or need
more intensive types ofinterventions.
Many of the war survivors who sought
help in psycho-social assistance programs
wanted contact, help, and comfort Some
also came to receive material support, to
have something to do, or to avoid thinking
of the war. Occupational activities or receiving material aid could provide an acceptable excuse for entering a psycho-social program, and the need and motivation for
psychological help would develop gradually
as a trusting relationship was built between
the survivor and the staff. Trust, which is always an issue in psychotherapy, had a special significance in the Bosnian war context
where feelings of betrayal were so pervasive.
Providing material aid and occupational activities were important elements in creating
a trusting environment. Ultimately, with the
exception of only the most hard-line psychoanalytically oriented staff members, it
was generally accepted that a psycho-social
program also offered material assistance.

248

PSYCHO-SOCIAL ASSISTANCE
UNDER WAR CONDITIONS
So, what was healing under war conditions?
Eventually, it was recognized that little healing could happen during the war. The best
one could hope for was survival or prevention of a deterioration 'of the survivors' psychological and social status. We arrived at
the following definition of psycho-social
emergency assistance: the aim of psych(}-social
emergmcy assistance under war conditions is to
promote mmtal health and human rights by
strategies that support the already existing protective social and psychological factors and diminish the stressor factors at differmt levels of intervmtion (Agger, Vuk, & Mimica, 1995).
The concept "levels of intervention"
proved to be useful in the debate about
"right" or "wrong" types of practice. It was
not a question of right or wrong but rather
an acknowledgment of the level at which
one should or could intervene. The best
psychotherapeutic intervention would be to
stop the war, but that was not in our power.
We could only try to intervene on various
levels of psycho-social interventions. The
differen t levels of in terventions were defined as follows: (1) politica~ economic, and
physical survival interventions, which were at
the baseline; (2) community development interventions, such as the establishment of
an orphanage for homeless or unaccompanied children; (3) task-onmted interventions,
such as organizing knitting groups, language courses, or other types of occupational or educational activities; (4) psychologically onmted group interventions, such as
organizing women's self-help groups; (5)
counseling interventions, such as providing
individual or group consultation with a social worker around present problems and
dilemmas; (6) intensive psychotherapy interventions, such as providing individual or
group therapy by psychologists and psychia-

Peacemaking

trists in which deeper emotional problems
were addressed.
The use of this model facilitated the understanding of what was actually being done
in a certain program, as well as the choice
of new methods. With this model it was possible to conceptualize interventions, to evaluate the target group and the resources,
and to implement the methods most appropriate in the given context.
It was an important aspect of this model
that no type of intervention per sewas better
than any other. Many therapists, of course,
tended to think that intensive psychotherapy interventions were "better" than psychologically oriented group interventions. But
in psycho-social projects under war conditions, whether it was counseling, group therapy, provision of social services, or community work, we were entering new territory.
Mostly, mental health staff had to rely on
themselves as the best tool available with
whatever amount of maturity or strength
they possessed. The only other guidelines
they had for choosing which actions to take
derived from their theory about the world,
which enabled them to understand the daily
problems they were facing.

PSYCHO-SOCIAL ASSISTANCE
UNDER POST-WAR CONDITIONS
When the peace agreement was signed in
Dayton, the conditions for psycho-social
work changed radically. While the focus
during the war was on survival by supporting the already existing protective factors
and diminishing the stressor factors as
much as possible, the focus in the post-war
period had to shift toward peacebuilding
and healing. A definition of the aim of psycho-social assistance under post-war conditions could be formulated in the following
way: The aim of psych(}-social assistance under

Reducing Trauma during Ethno-Political Conflict

post-war conditions is to promote mental heaUh
and human rights by therapeutic strategies that
promote dialogue, confi_e-building, and reconciliation, and diminish ethnic tensions at differer!t levels of intervention.
Under post-war conditions, mental
health and human rights can be promoted
by these new therapeutic strategies at a
number of levels: 1) community-oriented interventions, such as organizing meetings for
ethnically mixed groups discussing neutral
topics of mutual interest; 2) task-oriented interventions, such as organizing education in
human rights; 3) psychologically-oriented group
interventions, such as creating self-help
groups for family members of the missing;
4) counseling interventions, such as providing
individual or group consultation around
present dilemmas concerning the return
process; 5) intensive psychotherapy interventions, such as providing individual or group
therapy in which deeper emotional problems are addressed such as the mourning of
loss, and the process of forgiveness.
The war survivors were suffering from
war-related human rights violations. In this
perspective, I built on my experiences from
field work in Chile. Although the Chilean
context is quite different from the Balkansin Chile during the dictatorship they were
fighting a mosdy socio-political struggle,
while in the Balkans they were mainly fighting an ethno-political war-there were also a
number of similarities: to divide, to victimize,
to destroy, and to silence the voices of opposition were fundamental strategies of state terrorism in Latin America as well as of ethnic
cleansing in the Balkans.
Ethnic cleansing brought about identity
conflicts in individuals of mixed-ethnic origin and division in mixed families, communities, and the whole country. It victimized
individuals, families, and communities of
the "wrong" ethnicity. It destroyed individuals, families, and communities by killing

249
them or expelling them to a life as refugees.
And it persecuted voices of opposition.
Within this overall perspective I also saw
the development of healing and peacebuilding strategies. On the psycho-social levels of
intervention, the main focus of strategies
should relate to counteracting the destructive processes of war and ethnic cleansing.
Healing processes should, therefore, aim at
unifying the divided, empowering the victimized, rebuilding social networks, and denouncing human rights violations. The political
point of departure would be a critical stance
towards the ideology of ethnic cleansing, regardless of who practices it.
In the immediate post-war period, this
was not an easy task. Even after one year of
peace, people were not ready to enter into
any positive dialogue with their former foes.
They needed more time. They needed to
mourn their losses. During the second year,
one could liken the situation to a divorce: It
seemed as if the separated marital partners
were beginning to be ready to start a dialogue, but they were still cautious and defensive. They could talk about neutral subjects, but it was still too dangerous to get
close to the traumatic areas, such as the feelings of betrayal.
A Bosnian therapist told me about a
group therapy she had led with refugee
women. One woman began an angry monologue about how bad the other ethnic
group was, how bad she and her family had
been treated, and how much she hated this
ethnic group. During several sessions the
woman had the need to express these aggressive feelings and receive sympathy from
the group. Gradually, the therapist was able
to direct the woman in another direction.
Maybe the neighbor who had advised her to
leave her home had actually tried to protect
her and her family against a worse fate. At
last the woman was able to see that some
people from the other ethnic group had ac-

250
tually tried to help her. The black-and-white
split was overcome, the ethnic stereotypes
were left, and the woman was in the more
mature position of sadness over the losses
everyone had suffered-on all sides of the
conflict.
It is important in the post-war healing
process also to find examples of good and
positive deeds. There is a tendency to focus
on war crimes, on all the injustices. Naturally, these acts should not be forgotten, but
an effort should also be made to remember
the positive events that happened during
the war. In the first case story about the
woman in a mixed marriage who had to flee
her hometown, there was actually one family from the majority group who had helped
her. To follow the divorce metaphor, the
good parts about the "spouse" must also be
integrated before the marital partners can
be reconciled.

Peacemaking

But we cannot demand "forgiveness" of
separated partners who are not yet ready for
it. Before that stage, the partners probably
need to recover their feelings of security in
the community at large, to recover their lifeproject, and to recover their trust in a safe
world. This will be of tremendous importance for peace in the twenty-first century,
which could otherwise be threatened by
new violent cycles of conflict instigated by
those who seek revenge. Thus, building
peace includes a psychological and social
process of reconciliation within individuals
and families, as well as between individuals,
families, and groups. However, social and
economic development is also needed in
order to reduce exploitation and repression-the basis on which ethno-nationalist
leaders can recruit the discontented for
their dubious cause.

CHAPTER 21

RECONCILIATION IN DIVIDED SOCIETIES
Cheryl de la Rey

Reconciliation is a complex concept. All is the
case with many concepts that describe
human interaction, it cannot be easily defined. Reconciliation has been interpreted in
many different ways, and it has been given
form through a range of structures and
processes that vary across contexts and
boundaries. This chapter provides a mapping of the complexities ofits meaning, identifying points of clarity and consensus while
also pointing to areas that require further explication. Exploration of the meanings of a
concept such as reconciliation is not a mere
semantic exercise, for as Kriesberg (1998)
has suggested, understanding these variations is critical to developing theories, policies, and practices that promote peaceful societies. Moreover, mapping the meaning of
reconciliation is central to the mission of
peace psychology as envisioned in this volume, namely, that peace psychology seeks to
develop theories and practices that elucidate
psychological processes involved in the prevention and mitigation of violence.

ing upon the specific dynamics within a social
context. For example, Hamber and van der
Merwe (1998) have distinguished five ways in
which people in South Africa have interpreted
reconciliation. Chief among these five is what
they term the non-racial ideology ofreconciliation.
This interpretation sees the reconciliation as
decreasing the salience of racial identities that
formed the basis of the old apartheid system.
This may be appropriate in a context like
South Africa where race discrimination between black and white people has been the
primary source of conflict, but it may not be
applicable in a context such as Northern Ireland, where the divisions are political and religious. Therefore, a good starting point for an
analysis of the multiplicity of meanings of reconciliation with a view to identifying commonalities is to identify the characteristics that
create the need for reconciliation. At a metalevel, or across the variations of context, what
are the defining features of contemporary
conflicts across the globe? Using the analysis
carried out by Lederach (1995) , the following
key characteristics may be listed:

CHARACTERISTICS OF
DIVIDED SOCIETIES

• structural injustice such as poverty and
oppression

One of the reasons that it is so difficult to arrive at a single definition of reconciliation is
that its interpretation seems to vary depend-

• the lines of conflict typically coincide
with group identities where one group
has been oppressed by the other

251

252
• the conflicts have long histories across
generations
• conflicting parties are in close geographical proximity
• there has been direct, physical violence
& is evident from this list, the concept
of relationship, albeit conflictual, is often
central to the divisions in contemporary societies. It makes sense then, that any policies established to promote reconciliation
must focus on changing the relationship between the parties in conflict. On this aspect,
there is consensus.
While the notion of relationship is central, there are several other aspects of reconciliation that are considered below in the
section on mapping meaning. Then I discuss the preconditions for reconciliation,
continuing with a brief overview of some of
the methods for reconciliation, followed by
the conclusion of the chapter. To illustrate
many of the issues, the case of South Mrica,
my native country, is frequently cited. A
short overview of the South Mrican Truth
and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) follows to provide a context for the examples
used throughout the chapter.

SOUTH AFRICA'S TRUTH AND
RECONCILIATION COMMISSION
A central question faced by societies whenever an era of oppression has ended is how
does one achieve closure of the past and set
the scene for a peaceful future? The firstever democratic elections in South Mrica in
April 1994 marked the end of legislated
racism, known as apartheid, which had
begun in 1948. Under the apartheid system
of government, all South Mricans were classified in terms of one of four main racial
categories: Black, White, &ian (mostly people of Indian descent), and colored (mixed

Peacemaking

race). These racial classifications determined where the individual lived, worked,
what kind of job slhe could do, and whom
slhe could marry. Apartheid was a complete system of racial segregation which determined life circumstances and access to
opportunity. Only people classified as White
had the vote and thus controlled the go¥ernment, the economy, and the entire society. This system of minority rule (Whites
comprise only 13 percent of the population) was enforced by a web of state security
which included the army and the police. All
peaceful resistance was brutally crushed
through detentions, torture, and murder.
Consequently, political organizations opposing apartheid, such as the Mrican National
Congress, were forced into exile. A protracted struggle for liberation ensued both
inside and outside the country. By the early
1990s, the extent of the political resistance
and international pressure exerted through
measures such as economic sanctions had
increased such that the demise of apartheid
seemed imminent.
The elections in 1994 were a culmination of a four-year process of negotiations in
which the key players were the Mrican National Congress in alliance with other liberation parties on the one side, and the Nationalist PartyISouth African government on
the other side. The South African Government of National Unity (GNU) elected into
office in April 1994 ended White minority
rule and faced the tricky question of how to
confront the wrongs of the past while simultaneously pursuing national reconciliation,
unity, and peace. In answer to this question,
South Mrica turned to the concept of a
truth commission. The Promotion of National Unity and Reconciliation Bill establishing the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) was signed by President
Mandela in May 1995, and it became an Act
of Parliament in July of the same year.

Reconciliation in Divided Societies

Four key words encapsulate the objectives of the TRC: truth, forgiveness, healing,
and reconciliation. In broader terms, the
tasks of the TRC were to:
• establish as complete a picture as possible of the causes, nature, and extent of
the gross violations of human rights committed during the years of apartheid.
• facilitate the granting of amnesty to persons who make full disclosure of all relevant facts relating to acts with a political objective.
• establish and make known the fate of
victims, restore their human and civil
dignity by granting them an opportunity to relate their own accounts of the
violations, and make recommendations
on reparation measures in respect of
the violations.
• compile a comprehensive report of the
activities and [mdings of the TRC together with recommendations of measures to prevent future violations of
human rights.
It was believed that through the process
of meeting these objectives, the commission
would restore the moral order of South
African society, create a culture of human
rights and respect for the rule of law, and
prevent the past abuses happening again.
After a process of consultation, the
President appointed 17 TRC commissioners, with Archbishop Desmond Tutu as the
chairperson. The criteria for the appointment of the commissioners were that they
had to be fit and proper persons who were
seen as impartial and who did not have a
high political profile. The composition of
the commissioners as a group showed sensitivity to both race and gender. Seven
women were appointed, and all race groups
were represented.

253
The commissioners presided over three
committees: the Committee on Human
Rights Violations, the Committee on Amnesty, and the Committee on Reparation and
Rehabilitation ofVictims. Each of these three
committees had different tasks which were
executed with the assistance of specific support structures such as an investigations arm,
a research unit, and a media department.
The Committee on Human Rights Violations
was responsible for conducting public hearings throughout the country. The purpose of
these public hearings was to provide survivors of human rights abuses the opportunity to tell their stories and thereby come to
terms with the pain and trauma of the past.
The task of the Committee on Amnesty was
to consider applications for amnesty from
those who had committed political crimes. A
condition for granting amnesty was that the
perpetrator had to first disclose the full details of the abuse, and the act of abuse had to
be within the definition of a political crime.
The Committee on Reparation and Rehabilitation was to make recommendations to the
government on how to implement a reparations policy.
The TRC was not wholly a judicial
process. It was not fully constituted as an institution of law, but it did follow some procedures oflaw, for example, the use oflegal
representatives and cross-examination procedures. It could name perpetrators and
grant amnesty without a trial and conviction
in a court of law. However, the TRC could
not carry out prosecutions nor could it sentence. Wilson (1995) noted that the legal
system and the TRC had to be seen as "complementary and working in tandem, with
the latter compensation for the limitations
and deficiencies of the former" (p. 42).
In South Africa, the formation of the
Truth and Reconciliation Commission created a great deal of public debate on the
meaning of reconciliation. Many of these

254

debates were facilitated by the TRC itself in
a concerted effort to achieve its task. References to these debates and the TRC processes appear throughout this chapter with
an eye to illuminating the complexities involved in reconciliation.

MAPPING THE MEANING
OF RECONCILIATION
Reconciliation as Process
and Outcome
Overall, reconciliation is widely seen as a
process undertaken to restore relationships,
rather than as an event (e.g., Kriesberg,
1998; TRC Report, 1996). Based on an
analysis of the use of the term in everyday
language, Cohen (1997) concludes that reconciliation is used to refer both to a process
and a state that is the outcome of the
process. To illustrate, she offered the example of the release of political prisoners
which, she suggests, may be understood as a
step in a process designed to achieve a state
of reconciliation between conflicting parties.
Kraybill (1992) offers another version
of reconciliation. He very specifically defines reconciliation as a process that unfolds
in stages over time. According to his model,
each stage poses new challenges and dilemmas to be addressed. Therefore, the process
is complex. Kraybill's model differs from
many others in that he views reconciliation
as a cyclic process; namely, a process that
will be repeated many times to transform
the differences in relationships.

Reconciliation as Relationship Building
There is widespread agreement that reconciliation necessarily involves the restoration
of relationships that have been fractured.
Moving from strife or antagonism to a more
positive relationship is a defining feature of

Peacemaking

reconciliation. But there are variations in
the type of relationship necessary for reconciliation to occur. Kriesberg (1998) explains
that one meaning is to bring people who
have had some history of conflict into a harmonious relationship. Another meaning
may be to bring people into agreement on a
set of historical events or circumstances. Or
reconciliation may just involve developing
the capacity to live with one another, according to TRC Commissioner, Wynand
Malan (TRC, 1998a).
Whatever the nuances in meaning, reconciliation is undoubtedly a relational concept. This statement then begs the question:
relationship between whom? One way of answering this question is to import the categorization scheme used by Tavuchis (1991)
in his work on apology and reconciliation.
Applied to reconciliation, it would read as
follows:
• interpersonal reconciliation between
one individual and another (one to
one)
• reconciliation between an individual
and a collectivity (one to many)
• reconciliation between a collectivity and
an individual (many to one)
• reconciliation between one collectivity
to another (many to many)
This means that reconciliation may vary
in terms of units of analysis. As Kriesberg
(1998) observes, it may be achieved between individuals, families, officials, groups,
or any combination thereof. However, in
the context of a deeply divided society these
units of interaction, be they individuals or
collectivities, would more than likely have
had a long history of experience where
some people would have been in a position
of power or privilege over others. Given
Lederach's characteristics of divided soci-

Reconciliation in Divided Societies

eties, they are also likely to have had experience of direct physical violence. Thus individuals or collectivities would enter into reconciliation not simply as individuals or
collectivities but with a history of relationships, as perpetrators or victims and/or as
beneficiaries or victims. This brings into
play the role of the past in reconciliation.

RECONCILIATION: PAST.
PRESENT. AND FUTURE
In South Mrica throughout the TRC
process, the need to address the past was
emphasized. On signing the legislation that
created the TRC, President Nelson Mandela
proclaimed "We can now deal with our
past." du Toit (1996) has explained that
dealing with the past is an historical act of
interpretation through which we try to understand and explain ourselves personally
and nationally.
This explanation hinges on the understanding that in divided societies the past
would have had a negative impact on the
identity of people as humans. In whatever
ways the lines of power differentials were
drawn, be it race or ethnicity or religion,
there would have been consequences for
all, be they beneficiaries or victims. Frye
(1992) has used the image of a bird in a
cage to illustrate the impact of a system of
oppression. She makes the point that barriers, such as the wires of a birdcage, are restrictive to those within the cage and those
outside of it. Of course, the meaning is different if one is inside. For the bird in the
cage, it is immobilization; those outside control the lock and keys. This metaphor highlights the significance of power inequalities;
the wires of the cage cut people off from
one another as humans in relationship with
other humans.
The dehumanizing impact of a system of
oppression on those who seemingly benefit

255
from the system is illustrated in the final
TRC report (1998b). In one of the testimonies, a victim of torture asked the perpetrator: "When you do those things, what
happens to you as a human being?" He responded: " ... as long as I was one of the
Whites, the privileged Whites who had an
education, who had a house, I couldn't see
it being taken away. If you ask me what type
of person is it that can do that, I ask myself
the same question" (p. 15).
Cohen (1997) uses the concept alienation to describe the estrangement from
other human beings experienced during
prolonged periods of conflict and structural
violence. In her terms, we become estranged
or disaffected from another person when we
see them as outside of our moral community. She says that this is the type of dehumanization that makes it possible for enemies to inflict torture and to kill. Another
feature of this type of alienation, explains
Cohen, is that it is accompanied by a corresponding splitting within oneself. This is
perhaps seen in the follOwing testimony
given during the TRC public hearings: A
man describes how after the death of his
brother at the hands of the White army,
"... anti-White obsession grew, and I would
dream about burning down White businesses and farms .... I then began to fantasize and, while this may seem laughable, I
sincerely prayed to God to make me invisible for just one day so that I could do the
things I dreamed of, and when God did not
comply, I reduced the time to one hour,
and in that hour I was determined to go to
Parliament and shoot every cabinet minister" (TRC, 1998b, p. 19).
We see in these accounts that there are
sound psychological reasons for dealing
with the past to attain reconciliation in divided societies. Through a reinterpretation
of the past, people may work toward changing themselves and in this way build a future

256
of community. Reconciliation is, therefore,
poised in relation to three time frames: a
very specific form of relationship building
that necessitates a linking of past with future
through the present.

Reconciliation and Truth
An additional reason for dealing with the
past is that in many situations of prolonged
oppression and resistance, numerous individuals seemingly disappear or die under
mysterious circumstances. As a result, many
people are left simply not knowing what
happened to relatives and loved ones. In
such situations, an undertaking to deal with
the past is likely to become a search for the
truth. Such was the case in South Africa.
Throughout the TRC process, establishing
the truth has been one of "the principal
paths South Africans have taken to deal with
their dark past" (Hamber, 1997, p. 1). But
the TRC experience has shown that this is a
complex task subject to political contestation.
A central point of contention concerns
the question "What is truth?" At one level
there is factual truth: Did something happen or not? But there is also truth as interpretation. In psychology, we have seen the
emergence of post-structuralism, a theoretical framework which rejects the idea of an
absolute truth in favor of a multiplicity of
truths. At a very simple level, this is a view
that incorporates the significance of perspective in definitions of what is true. Rothman (1998) spells it out as follows: "When
conflicting parties in identity conflict do describe its significance in historical terms, observers may believe different histories are
being told. In many ways this is so .... One
side's freedom fighter is very often another
side's terrorist" (p. 231)
Truth may be factual evidence, but it
may also be subjective account. The complex-

Peacemaking
ity of the question of what is truth is powerfully illustrated in the following statement
made to the TRC (1998b):
Coming from the apartheid era at my age,
43, I was never a supporter, an active supporter of apartheid. But it's something that
you grew up with, and things changed quite
fast in the last couple of years. All of a sudden you start hearing from the blacks how
they've been ill-treated, exploited, all kinds
of words and all of a sudden you start seeing
the bad side of it. ... coming from a background where everything was fine for all
these years, now all of a sudden ... the police were the baddies. (p. 8)

In this statement, we see that what
someone understands as truth may be
shaped by his or her position within a social
system; we also see how versions of truth
may change as social and historical circumstances shift over time.
Is truth necessary for reconciliation? A
nuanced answer is provided in Hamber's
(1997) observation that "Some victims may
be satisfied by knowing the facts .... but for
others, truth may heighten anger and calls
for justice rather than lead to feelings of
reconciliation" (p. 2). He further points out
that there is a possibility that truth may produce revenge rather than reconciliation.
The tensions around the meaning of truth
emerged during the TRC process even
though the Commission tried to be accommodating. On the one hand, people were
allowed to tell their version of events without being subjected to cross-examination,
but on the other hand there was an investigative unit which worked at establishing
the facts. Answers to the question of how
this tension is to be bridged in the reconciliation process may perhaps best be derived
through careful consideration of why the
truth is important. The accuracy of the historical record may be one reason, but another is the importance of merely acknowl-

Reconciliation in Divided Societies

edging and validating the hurtful experiences
of the past.

Reconciliation as Acknowledging
the Other
Acknowledgment of the other is widely
viewed as critical to reconciliation. Lederach (1995), in fact, argues that it is decisive
in the reconciliation dynamic. The exclusion of the other, someone who does not
belong to one's own group, from the scope
of a moral framework is a key factor in violence between groups. Earlier in this chapter, Cohen's (1997) concept of alienation
was outlined to explain the psychology of
dehumanization. Toscano (1998), on the
other hand, refers to a particular fonn of
identity known as narcissistic identity, to explain the psychological processes involved
in denying of the humanity of the other. He
has aptly named it "erasing the face of the
other" (p. 67). Narcissistic group identity occurs when one's own group is perceived as
so superior to any other group that the others are seen as outside the moral code of
one's community.
A widely supported idea is that if reconciliation is to be attained, the different sides
of the conflict must relate to one another as
humans in relationship. The traditional
Mrican concept of ubuntu describes the philosophy that a person is a person through
other persons or "I am human because you
are human. IfI undennine your humanity, I
dehumanize myself' (Gevisser, 1996, p. 103).
Acknowledging the existence of the humanity of the other after a protracted period of conflict is necessarily emotional.
Toscano (1998) distinguishes three components that are involved in the process he
calls "the reconstruction of the face of the
other." The first component is cognitiveknowing the other; the second component
is emotive-valuing the other; and the third

257
component is behavioral-getting closer to
the other. In distinguishing cognition from
the other two components, Toscano draws
attention to reconciliation as an emotional
activity. We acknowledge the other through
understanding the harm that has occurred
through our actions, either directly or indirectly. This is cogently illustrated in the
TRC testimony of a man who said that he
felt the peace of reconciliation when he
placed himself "in the other person's shoes"
and considered "... how would I have felt
about it. How would I have liked not to be
able to vote, not to have any rights, and that
kind of thing. So I realized that I would not
have liked it, so I realized how it must have
felt for them."
Throughout the TRC hearings there
was much talk of the pain and suffering that
people had experienced. Many psychologists have emphasized that reconciliation
necessarily involves the expression of pain,
guilt, anger, and sorrow (e.g., Edelstein &
Gibson, 1993; Statman, 1995). Mechanisms
that provide the space and opportunity for
people on both sides to express their experiences of pain and loss can be a significant
means towards a mutual acknowledgment
of the moral reality of the other. But
whether this should lead to apology and forgiveness is a question over which there is little consensus.

Reconciliation, Apology,
and Forgiveness
In considering the role of apology and forgiveness in reconciliation, Cohen (1997)
notes that several scholars, such as Brummer (1992) and Tavuchis (1991), virtually
make reconciliation equivalent with apology
and forgiveness. In South Africa many researchers would seem to agree. Villa-Vicencio (1995), the head of research in the
TRC, has stated that "Forgiveness, contri-

258
tion, penance, repentance, restitution and
reconciliation are an integrated whole" (p.
121). However, there is no agreement on
this issue. Cohen also considers the work of
other scholars, such as the anthropologist
Gulliver (1979), who do not believe that
apology and forgiveness is a central issue in
reconciliation.
The meanings, nature, and functions of
apology are explored in great detail in
Tavuchis's work, which draws attention to
the very specific requirements of an apology. At a minimal level, it incorporates an
admission that there has been a violation
and an expression of regret. Forgiveness
would mean that the offended party accepts
the offender's acknowledgment of the
wrong together with the expression of sorrow. In this way both parties, the offender
and the offended, are brought into a common moral community. A woman whose
son had been killed by the police during the
apartheid era, when asked how she saw the
concept of reconciliation, responded:
What we are hoping for when we embrace
the notion of reconciliation is that we restore the humanity to those who were perpetrators. We do not want to return evil byanother evil. ... I think that all South Mricans
should be committed to the idea of reaccepting these people back into the community.... We want to demonstrate humaneness towards them, so that they in tum may
restore their own humanity. (IRG, 1998b,
p.13)
Thus we see a view of reconciliation that relies on the mutual recognition of humans as
moral agents.
Hamber and van der Merwe (1998)
note a second approach-the human rights
approach-that seeks to establish a new
order but typically through the establishment of democracy and legal and civil
rights. Even though the moral and the

Peacemaking

human rights approaches are competing
models, they can co-exist. Indeed, the final
report of the TRC suggests that a weak or
limited form of reconciliation that emphasizes peaceful co-existence may often be the
most realistic goal for societies trying to
overcome decades of conflict, especially at
the beginning of the peacemaking process.

Reconciliation, Reparation, and Justice
Apology and forgiveness clearly try to deal
with the wrong that has been done; another
form of acknowledging that wrong has been
committed may be achieved through reparation or making amends in some way. Tangible forms of reparation may include financial compensation, memorials, policies and
procedures offering protection against future violations, or even some type of punishment for the perpetrators. It raises images
of making things right or rectifYing wrong.
Justice is about fairness and equality.
Boesak (1996) makes a distinction between
two forms of justice that may enter into reconciliation. The first form is punitive or retributive justice. The second is compensatory
justice. Reparations are a form of the latter
and can be distinguished from restitution.
Whereas reparations refer to compensatory
measures, restitution refers to measures
aimed at restoring the dignity and humanity
of victims (and sometimes their families).
Reparations may be both the responsibility of the state and of the perpetrators. In
South Mrica, the TRC recommended that
the state pay reparations as a way for the nation to show sorrow for the victims. In some
cases, the perpetrators themselves undertook some form of reparation. Examples included setting up a trust fund for victims,
participation in community work, and cooperation with the authorities to expose further abuses. Whether it is from the state or
the perpetrators themselves, reparations may

259

Reconciliation in Divided Societies

take many different forms, from symbolic to
legal and administrative measures. Tavuchis
(1991) raises the possibility that apology itself, if offered and accepted, may constitute
sufficient restitution.
The TRC hearings showed that the
needs of people are likely to be varied. First,
as Tavuchis suggests, acknowledgment and
apology is sufficient for some. Others want
financial assistance, and yet other people
simply want symbolic measures. Then, there
are those who, as Kriesberg (1998) points
out, want punishment for the perpetrators.
In sum, there are no reconciliation procedures that are guaranteed to be successful
in every instance. People's needs differ, as
do the circumstances underlying the conflict they have been engaged in.

PRECONDITIONS FOR
RECONCILIATION
What circumstances are most conducive to
the initiation of the reconciliation process?
Very little is known definitively in answer to
this question, for we are still developing our
knowledge about the process of reconciliation in practical terms. In the absence of
such a body of knowledge, we may turn to
related fields, such as conflict transformation and peacebuilding, to explore lessons
to be learned.
Reconciliation generally begins when a
relationship of conflict between groups
shifts to a new phase of lessened conflict,
typically through an agreement of some
type. Zartman (1985) used the concept of
the "ripe moment" to talk about opportunities that offer hope for the resolution of
conflict. But as de Silva and Samarasinghe's
(1993) review demonstrates, peace accords
and agreements that result from mediation
often fail to bring about reconciliation. Lederach (1995) identifies the critical element
as the role of relationship: In the negotiations

and peace talks which often occur between
conflicting groups, do the parties take serious

account of the need for developing relationship,
not only at the top level of leadership but also at
the middle-range and grassroots levels? He argues that without incorporating the dynamics of and space for relationship building,
peace accords and agreements will not
translate into reconciliation.
Lederach's propositions are still to be
subjected to systematic study. RichardsonJr.
and Wang (1993) point out that amongst
authors who have done case studies there is
no consensus on the essential preconditions
for peace; there is no list that guarantees
successful relationship building.

METHODS AND MECHANISMS
FOR RECONCILIATION
The Chapter now turns to the praxis of reconciliation. In this section, I present a short
oveIView of some mechanisms used in the
reconciliation process, to overcome the conflict of the past and to restore social harmony.

Storytelling and Testimony
Psychologists such as Gergen (1989) and
Bruner (1990) have promulgated the idea
that people use narrative to make sense of
themselves and their experiences within a
socio-historical context. In their view, narrative or storytelling is central to the construction of the individual's self-perception and
worldview. This proposition is evident in
Botman's (1996) statement that people
"communicate, confess, forgive and reconcile in the form of stories" (p. 37).
Public storytelling in the form of giving
testimony was the primary mechanism used
in the South Mrican TRC process. As explained in an article by de la Rey and Owens
(1998), the South Mricans were strongly

Peacemaking

260
influenced by the Chilean experience in
turning to testimony as a mechanism for
reconciliation. Public hearings were held in
venues across the country where people told
their stories of pain, suffering, and loss. The
public nature of the event-having an audience, having the story reported in the
media and recorded as written text-permitted the reconstruction of private, individual trauma as part of a larger social-political process. Botman (1996) described it as
follows:
Victims and perpetrators and those who
thought that they were just innocent bystanders, now realize their complicity, and
have an opportunity to participate in each
other's humanity in story form. (p. 37)

The value of storytelling has also been
endorsed by Rothman (1998), who has argued that storytelling is particularly significant in identity-based conflict. This makes
sense, given the idea that self-perceptions
are constructed through stories. In evaluating the TRC process of public testimony,
Hamber (1997) concluded that providing
space for the telling of stories was clearly
useful.

Dialogue
A common assumption about deeply divided societies is that an absence of dialogue is at the source of the conflict. Communication is then presented as the
antidote. But as Rothman (1998) points
out, in many divided societies there is dialogue even when there is intense conflict.
Thus not all types of dialogue may be useful in attaining reconciliation. Rothman
has identified several distinct dialogue approaches. If dialogue is used as a method
for reconciliation, which approach should
be used?

Reflexive dialogue, which allows disputing parties to articulate to each other and
discover the meeting points in their narratives, best fits the requirements of reconciliation as outlined in this chapter. It is an approach in which participants "reframe their
perceptions and analyses of each other and
their own identities; ... they learn to articulate their own voice and recognize each
other's as valid" (Rothman, 1998, p. 234).
During the course of the dialogue, questions are posed for the purposes of clarification and mutual understanding until it is
possible to see one another as humans. It
therefore resonates with the core components of reconciliation as outlined in this
chapter.

Traditional Institutions
Honwana (1997), in discussing reconstruction in Mozambique, argues that the process
of community rebuilding needs to take into
account the worIdview of the local population. For the reconciliation process, this may
mean making a space for the role of traditional institutions and practices. Honwana
describes a number of rituals that are aimed
at self-renewal, healing, and restoration.
Among the mostly rural population of
Mozambique, chiefs, healers, spiritualists,
and diviners are significant role-players in
the lives of the people. In South Africa, the
TRC tried to incorporate rituals to signify
loss, death, and closure. Ritual activities may
include washing of clothes, slaughtering of
animals, and communal feasts. Symbolically
they refer to concepts such as confession, forgiveness, and apology.
The role of religion as a traditional institution is another important mechanism
for reconciliation. Prayers and religious services are used for forgiveness, guidance,
and, generally, to restore relationships.
These activities may be meaningfully used

Reconciliation in Divided Societies

in the reconciliation process if they are consistent with the worldviews of the particular
communities.

Legislation and Policies
There is the view that change of relationships, although vital to reconciliation, by itself is not enough. It needs to be accompanied by changes in social structure (Statman,
1997). The creation of a human rights culture is
widely viewed as pivotal to reconciliation in
modem societies. This usually involves introducing new legislation and policies, as well as
measures to safeguard these initiatives. Many
of these structural methods are described in
Section IV of this volume.
Although the TRC is probably South
Mrica's most well-known mechanism for
reconciliation, a number of structural methods have been implemented since the advent of democracy in the society. A constitution with a bill of rights is one; others have
included a human rights commission, a
gender equality commission, and a youth
commission. Together these structures are
aimed at creating a society in which there is
a culture of human rights. Through monitoring and acting on complaints from citizens, these structures enhance the possibility of sustainable peaceful co-existence,
noted in a previous section as a form of reconciliation.
An important component of reconciliation is the reduction of inequalities between
groups. Policies such as affirmative action
and specific equal opportunity programs
may be used to reduce inequalities (Kriesberg, 1998). Another method listed by
Kriesberg is the use of superordinate goals
and the fostering of common identities.
The creation of a new sense of nationhood

261

through a new national anthem and other
national symbols, such as a flag, is often a
way to foster a common identity among formerly divided societies. In many instances
the country may also be renamed. In South
Africa a new flag was chosen through a public participation process in which individuals could submit designs. These were then
published in the mass media for comment
before the flag was finally chosen.

CONCLUSION
As we move into the twenty-first century, we
are confronted with a number of ethnicbased conflicts in different parts of the
world; some, such as in Northern Ireland,
Israel, and Palestine, show signs of abating,
but others, such as in Sri Lanka, do not. A
pivotal challenge for peace psychologists as
we enter the twenty-first century is the further development of our knowledge base on
reconciliation in both theory and practice.
There is a dire need for systematic empirical research on issues such as the identification of the minimum conditions for reconciliation practices that work. We need
answers to questions such as what are the
basic requirements for relationship building, what strategies are most likely to be effective, and how can positive beginnings
such as the TRC be translated into sustainable social harmony in contexts of diversity.
Furthermore, given the variation across contexts, there is a particular need for research
across boundaries of ethnicity, nationhood,
and culture. Finally, although developing
our knowledge base is critical, we also need
to take steps to ensure that the accumulated
knowledge is widely disseminated and put
into practice where required.

CHAPTER 22

PSYCHOSOCIAL INTERVENTION
AND POST-WAR RECONSTRUCTION
IN ANGOLA: INTERWEAVING WESTERN
AND TRADITIONAL ApPROACHES
Michael Wessells and Carlinda Monteiro

The intra-state wars that now comprise the
dominant form of armed conflict in the
world (Wallensteen & Sollenberg, 1998)
cause immense physical, psychological, and
social damage, and create profound obstacles to peace. Since the fighting occurs in
and around communities, civilians constitute nearly 90 percent of the casualties, in
contrast with the situation at the beginning
of this century when combatants comprised
the m,yority of war casualties (Garfield &
Neugut, 1997; Sivard, 1991). Many of the
intra-state conflicts of the 1990s are protracted: nearly 40 percent are ten or more
years old, and 25 percent are over 20 years
old (Smith, 1997). These conflicts have
devastated local infrastructure and amplified already severe problems of poverty and
displacement. Lacking well-defined end-

262

points and defying tidy distinctions between
relief and development (World Disasters Report, 1996), they have created complex humanitarian emergencies that entail mass
needs for food, clean water, and basic
health services. Typically, they place societies at risk of continuing cycles of political
and criminal violence. In protracted conflicts, poverty and violence exist in a mutually supportive spiral, violence becomes normalized, and violence in communities and
families continues long after the signing of
a ceasefire.
These situations, exemplified in countries such as Angola, Guatemala, Rwanda,
Somalia, and Uganda, require post-war reconstruction (also called post-conflict reconstruction) , defined as efforts to assist the transition from widespread violence to peace.

Psychosocial Intervention and Post-war Reconstruction in Angola

Comprehensive post-war reconstruction is
not simply social rehabilitation but a proactive
step toward conflict prevention and interruption of ongoing cycles of violence. Following
decades of economic, political, and ecological distress, effective assistance in rebuilding
often comes from nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), U.N. agencies, and intergovernmental institutions such as the World
Bank (Minear & Weiss, 1993; Weiss & Collins,
1996).
Peace psychology has much to contribute to efforts toward post-war reconstruction. Psychologists' role in post-conflict
reconstruction, however, has seldom been
articulated and is not widely appreciated,
particularly among policy-makers who make
decisions about handling complex emergencies. The purpose of this chapter is
twofold. First, it aims to show that psychosocial reconstruction is an integral part of
wider, multidisciplinary processes of postwar reconstruction. Second, it examines a
national program for psychosocial reconstruction in Angola conducted by Christian
Children's Fund (CCF) , an international
NGO. The program addresses two main elements of psychosocial reconstruction: healing the wounds of war and demobilizing
and socially reintegrating former child soldiers. The focus on Angola is timely because the scale of human needs there is immense and because Angola remains
trapped in recurrent cycles of violence. To
make its maximum contribution, psychological methods must be shown to apply
under the most dire conditions. The program discussed here fits within the definition of peace psychology since it aims to
help prevent violence. Further, Angolan
cosmology and traditional practices challenge the assumptions of Western peace
psychology, offer an opportunity for interculturalleaming and integration, and work
in a partnership mode.

263

TASKS AND CHALLENGES
OF POST-WAR RECONSTRUCTION
Post-war reconstruction entails interrelated
tasks of economic, political, and social reconstruction (Ball, 1997; Kumar, 1997).
Economic reconstruction tasks include rebuilding damaged infrastructure, including
homes, roads and bridges, health centers,
and schools; currency stabilization and
monetary reform; demining; agricultural
reestablishment;job creation; and means of
addressing poverty, which war amplifies. Political reconstruction tasks include creating
a legitimate (typically integrated) government; regularly conducting elections; demilitarizing and demobilizing soldiers; constructing law and order through civilian
police and a functioning justice system; political discourse; building norms of political
participation; and settling political disputes.
Social reconstruction tasks include rebuilding civil society; resettling displaced peoples; revitalizing the community; establishing awareness of and support for basic
human rights; and creating social trust
across the lines of conflict. In all of these
tasks, a high priority is the establishment of
social justice, transforming patterns of exclusion, inequity, and oppression that fuel tensions and fighting.
Psychosocial intervention is a small but
essential part of post-conflict reconstruction
(Wessells, 1998a; 1998b). Although the signing of a peace accord may be an important
step, it does not constitute peace because a
system of violence is what often remains on
the ground. The "wronged victims" identity
thwarts peace, invites revenge, and provides
convenient rationalization for acts of violence and oppression that might typically be
regarded as immoral. War also creates powerful fears and exaggerated enemy images
of the diabolical Other (White, 1984), all of
which heighten the risk of ongoing cycles of

Peacemaking

264

violence and present powerful obstacles to
national reconciliation and the construction of civil society. Protracted conflicts
often nonnalize violence and draw large
numbers of youth into soldiering (Brett &
McCallin, 1996; Cairns, 1996; Wessells,
1997). In the aftennath of armed conflict,
violence often saturates families and communities, .and a shift may occur from political to criminal violence. Exposure to
violence at various social levels impedes development, as violence-affected children
may experience difficulties in school and
violence-affected adults may not be in a
good position to make decisions about
health, governance, and the future.
In these situations, psychosocial intervention is needed to interrupt cycles ofviolence and to provide a psychological climate
in which peacebuilding, reconciliation, and
sustainable development processes can take
root. More than a means of reducing suffering, psychosocial intervention is a key component of conflict prevention. Important
tasks of psychosocial reconstruction include
healing wounds of war; the social reintegration of fonner soldiers; community mobilization; social integration of displaced
people; assistance to mine victims and mineawareness training; cross-conflict dialogue
and cooperation; fear-reduction; tolerance
building; truth-telling; forgiveness and reconciliation; and the reestablishment of normal patterns and routines, among others.
Significant challenges, however, confront efforts at psychosocial reconstruction.
First, few roadmaps exist for rebuilding psychologically on a national scale following
long-tenn war in an environment where
money and psychological expertise are in
short supply. Second, cultural differences
thwart efforts to apply Western models "off
the shelf," and attempts to use Western
methods exclusively can silence local knowledge, block the recovery of traditional

methods, and promote psychological imperialism (Dawes, 1997). Third, the very definition of "reconstruction" is problematic. To
define it as the rebuilding of what had been
present before the fighting had erupted is
to risk supporting a status quo that may
violate human rights, privilege particular
groups, and in the long run, encourage
conflict. If external actors define reconstruction, problems of dependency and external domination arise. Ifinternal elites define reconstruction, they may construct
programs to advance their own political
purposes, making reconstructive efforts a
political tool. Fourth, psychologists are
trained as specialists, but effective psychosocial reconstruction must be holistic and integrated with wider efforts toward political,
economic, and social reconstruction (Wessells, 1998a; Wessells & Kostelny, 1996).
These challenges admit no simple answers and demand that psychosocial reconstruction work be initiated in a manner that
encourages dialogue, mutual learning, and
power-sharing; puts culture at the center;
integrates psychosocial work into wider programs of reconstruction; and stimulates critical reflection about the goals, methods,
and processes used. The program described
in this chapter attempts to meet these challenges through the use of a communitybased approach that blends Western and
traditional methods and works collaboratively with a large number of local communities and agencies. To see the context for
the program, it is necessary to sketch briefly
the Angolan context.

WAR, STRESSES, AND HEALING

IN ANGOLA
War raged in Angola for nearly 35 years,
from 1961 to 1994, and new fighting on a
wide scale erupted at the end of 1998. The
first stage of war, a liberation struggle

Psychosocial Intervention and Post-war Reconstruction in Angola

against the Portuguese colonial regime,
began in 1961. Although independence
came in 1975, internal groups struggled for
power. The Angolan civil war soon joined
the ranks of the proxy wars in the global
struggle between the United States and the
Soviet Union (Minter, 1994). The Angolan
socialist government, which received extensive aid from the Soviet Union and troops
and military support from Cuba, fought
against the opposition forces of UNITA (the
National Union for the Total Independence
of Angola), headed by Jonas Savimbi and
backed by the United States and apartheid
South Mrica. The end of the Cold War, coupled with the defeat of South Mrican forces
in the 1988 battle of Cuito Cuanavale, undermined outside support for the warring
parties. A stalemate in fighting and rising
international pressures for peace led in
May, 1991, to the Bicesse Peace Accords, establishing a ceasefire and enabling national
elections.
The ceasefire, however, was short-lived.
In national elections held in November,
1992, the current president, Eduardo dos
Santos narrowly failed to achieve the required 50 percent of the vote over Jonas
Savimbi. UNITA denounced the elections,
and fighting re-erupted October 31, 1992.
This time-late 1992 through May, 1994the fighting was particularly intense and
claimed heavy civilian casualties. A U.N.
Consolidated Appeal estimated that 3.3 million people were in need of emergency assistance. The number of internally displaced people rose from 344,000 in May,
1993 to 1.2 million people by September,
1994. Both sides used landmines extensively, leaving Angola with approximately
6 million landmines and ranking her with
Cambodia and Mghanistan as one of the
world's most heavily mined countries.
A stalemate in the fighting, coupled
with international pressures, led to the sign-

265

ing in November, 1994, of the Lusaka Protocol, which established a ceasefire, enabled
disarmament and demobilization, an integrated army, and the formation in April,
1997 of a new Government of National
Unity and Reconciliation. However, tensions remained high. Weak governmental
and civil institutions and grinding poverty
and desperation spurred rising crime and
pervasive hopelessness. These factors may
also have set the stage for the renewed fighting that began in late 1998.

IMPACT ON CHILDREN
Programs of post-war reconstruction in Angola must attend to the needs of children,
who comprise nearly half the population
and are key future resources yet who have
grown up in a situation in which war is a
daily reality. The war killed nearly 500,000
children, and it created nearly 15,000
"unaccompanied" children (separated from
their families). Hunger, disease, and the destruction of health facilities boosted morbidity rates. By 1993, UNICEF estimated
that 320 out of 1,000 children died before
they had reached the age of five years.
In numerous provinces, children experienced singly or in combination chronic
poverty, attack, loss of loved ones, uprooting, and community destruction. To assess
children's war experiences and their psychosocial impact in provinces where extensive fighting had occurred, the Christian
Children's Fund team used Exposure and
Impact Scales, respectively, developed initially by Nancy Dubrow and Magne Raundalen and modified to fit the Angolan context. Figure 22.1 shows the Exposure Scale
data for a sample of 100 randomly selected
children (59 male and 41 female) between
seven and 18 years of age. Large percentages of children had experienced attack
and starvation, seen dead and wounded

Peacemaking

266
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people, or suffered loss of relatives and belongings. The strong psychological impact is
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data, two caveats are noteworthy. First, there
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these behaviors. Second, the effects may
owe not only to children's war experiences
but also to the related experience of postwar violence in the family or community.
Psychosocial impacts are evident also in
mine victims, mostly children, who suffered
loss, disfigurement, disability, and stigmatization (Dastoor & Mocellin, 1997). Because
of the extreme poverty, the anarchic environment in many rural areas, and the in-

267

Psychosocial Intervention and Post-war Reconstruction in Angola
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Psychological and physiological impact
of exposure to violence.

volvement of many education-deprived
youths in the military, many youths have
turned to banditry, which remains one of
the biggest security problems in Angola
today. Socialization for fighting is both a
psychosocial impact of war and a source of
continued violence.

TRAUMA, CULTURE, AND HEALING
Western-trained psychologists tend to enter
war zones focusing on clinical problems
such as trauma. Although many Angolan
children present symptoms characteristic of
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD; for

useful reviews, see Friedman & Marsella,
1996; van der Kolk, McFarlane, & Weisaeth,
1996), Western-defined diagnostic categories should be used judiciously. For many
children, the biggest problem is poverty,
and impoverished children who do not
meet the formal criteria for PTSD may
nonetheless be war-affected and in need of
assistance (Dawes & Donald, 1994). In addition, war is profoundly political and social,
yet terms such as "trauma" tend to medicalize and individualize the problem (MartinBar6, 1994; Punamiiki, 1989) and to focus
intervention work excessively on individuals
rather than on communities, Further, con-

268
centrating on trauma can pathologize entire populations, portraying people as victims, overlooking the significant resilience
that often exists, and downplaying the importance of individual differences (see
Agger, this volume).
The wider problem, however, is cultural. As constructed in Western psychology,
terms such as "trauma" usually have few
spiritual connotations. But in Angola, as in
many Bantu areas of Mrica, spirituality is at
the center of life, and spiritual attributions
regarding life events have profound psychological implications (Wessells & Monteiro,
2000). In Angolan cosmology, the visible
world is fused with the world of the ancestors, who protect and participate in the life
of the community. Significant events such as
loss of loved ones are typically attributed to
spiritual discord or failure to honor the ancestors through practice of appropriate rituals and traditions.
In this belief system, the spiritual dimensions of terrible life events have great
salience and may be the primary source of
stress. If, for example, a soldier had killed
innocent people, he might experience
strong guilt, but the greater stress might be
his perception that he is haunted by the unavenged spirits of those he had killed. Stress
may also stem from community rejection, as
local people may believe that he is spiritually contaminated and that his return home
would visit spiritual pollution on the community. Similarly, a child whose village had
been destroyed and whose parents had
been killed might experience great stress as
a result of having fled without having conducted the culturally appropriate burial rite
for the parents. The local belief is that without these rites, the parents' spirits cannot
make transition to the realm of the ancestors, staying in a restless state and causing
problems among the living. In both cases,
the spiritual discord, which is communal

Peacemaking

rather than individual, threatens the vital
linkage between the living and the ancestral
community. Western-trained psychologists
might overlook these spiritual, communal
dimensions and might not learn about
them from local people, who may withhold
their traditional beliefs to avoid appearing
backward. To be effective, work on healing
must fit local beliefs about life and death,
illness and health.
In this context, healing entails the conduct of culturally appropriate rituals to restore spiritual harmony. Nearly every community has a traditional healer who is
trained in the performance of these rituals
and who takes a holistic approach that interconnects physical, spiritual, and social elements of healing. Traditional healing in Angola remains poorly documented and must
be approached cautiously and without romanticizing or essentializing it (Dawes,
1997; Wessells & Monteiro, 2000). Having a
strong cultural foundation and extensive
roots in local communities, it constitutes a
valuable, sustainable resource for programs
of healing and reconstruction.

A MULTI-PROVINCE PROGRAM
FOR ADDRESSING WAR STRESSES
Coming to terms with the pain of the past is
an essential first step toward a positive future. In Angola, the wounds of war are communal, so approaches to healing should
also be communal. Much distress stems not
only from spiritual discord but also from uprooting, community destruction, and the
disruption of traditions and patterns of
daily living. In addition, problems of hopelessness and futurelessness are communally
constructed and shared phenomena. Mter
so many years of war, many communities
have lapsed into a state of diminished planfulness and activity. Many people find it difficult to imagine conditions other than war,

Psychosocial Intervention and Post-war Reconstruction in Angola

heightening their vulnerability to political
manipulation. To promote healing and
hope, it is essential to revitalize communities, to strengthen traditions that provide a
sense of continuity and support, and to
build processes of dialogue and participation that strengthen civil society.
Community-based approaches to healing are indicated also by considerations concerning culture, local capacity, and sustainability. Individual approaches do not fit well
the collectivist, group orientation of Angolan culture and are unafl'ordable in dire
economic circumstances. Further, local communities embody local cultural practice and
can assist in the construction of culturally
grounded approaches to healing. Communities have a broad understanding of their
needs, mitigating against programs that are
not holistic and well integrated with community life. Since there are few trained psychologists in Angola, the emphasis should
be on building local capacity and on scaling
up to assist large numbers of war-affected
people. By weaving this capacity into the
fabric of communities, one increases sustainability, an immense concern in a country having very long-term needs that may
outlast donors' interest.
The hallmarks of community-based approaches are that they honor local people
and culture, using elicitive"methods (Lederach, 1995) that stimulate mutual learning
and working in a spirit of participation, dialogue, and partnership. It was in this vein
that CCF/ Angola initiated in September,
1995, a three-year training of trainers program that mobilizes communities around
providing psychosocial assistance to waraffected children. The program worked in
eight provinces most severely affected by
war and it aimed to train 4,000 adults to assist 320,000 war-affected children.
To build local capacity, the program
was led not by expatriates but by Angolans

269

who knew the local situation, culture, and
languages and who were selected for their
leadership, commitment to children's wellbeing, strong relationship with local communities and organizations, background in
social seIVice, and flexibility in solving difficult problems. A five-person national team
oversaw the program and selected and
trained a team of three people in each
province. Guidance for the trainings came
from a situation analysis, the conduct of
which enabled community entry and began
a process of relationship building and partnership to assist children.

SITUATION ANALYSIS
AND RELATIONSHIP BUILDING
In tandem with a pilot project conducted
in Luanda from 1994 to 1995 (Wessells,
1996), the national team collected data
from UNICEF, government ministries, and
various NGOs to identify the provinces that
had been most severely affected by war and
that had the fewest seIVices for providing
psychosocial assistance to children. Within
these provinces, work began with a situation
analysis to identify children's needs, map
the available local resources for assisting
children, and pinpoint the communities in
greatest need of assistance.
Sensitization (consciousness-raising) and
relationship building were important elements of the local situation analyses. Since
war had been a constant reality and the
press of daily circumstances had made it difficult for local people to step back and reflect on their war experiences, there was little awareness of how children had been
affected by the war. Most adults viewed
problems such as children's aggression as
signs of disobedience and did not connect
them with children's experiences of war
and violence. To build awareness, the
provincial team typically met first, following

270
Angolan custom, with the local soba or tribal
chief and male elders, including traditional
healers. The team asked about the community's war experiences and whether youth
experienced problems such as sleep disturbances, chronic isolation, and heightened
aggression. Having noted possible association with children's war experiences, they
talked about ways other communities had
addressed children's needs through various methods, including traditional healing methods. Deeply concerned about their
children and feeling valorized by the interest in local healing methods, most communities rapidly expanded the dialogue to include women and community members
who worked extensively with children. Dialogue often led to joint agreement that the
CCF teams and the local community should
collaborate on work to assist children.

COMMUNAL SELECTION
AND TRAINING
Adults were selected for training by their
communities on the basis of their commitment to children's well-being and their ability to assist significant numbers of children.
To integrate the intervention fully into community life, an attempt was made also to include people from different sectors such as
health, education, and church and also to
achieve gender balance.
Working in pairs, members of the
provincial teams conducted week-long training seminars for 20 to 25 adults. The curriculum included basic concepts in five
areas: children's psychosocial development,
the impact of war on children, rites of death
and mourning, methods of healing, and
nonviolent conflict resolution. Emphasizing
dialogue, the trainers built sessions around
questions such as "What do children need
to develop in a healthy manner?" Discussion
revealed that war stresses were increasing

Peacemaking

the levels of family violence, and it made litde sense to address impacts of violence
without also working to prevent additional
violence. For this reason, the expanded curriculum included material on conflict resolution in families.
Conducted in a participatory style, the
seminars enabled adults to talk about their
own war experiences, and many reported
that this was the first time they had engaged
in such dialogue. The seminars also evoked
much dialogue about traditional beliefs and
local methods of healing. To teach specific
activities that could be used to advance healing in children, the trainers emphasized
Western methods of emotional expression
in a secure, supportive environment. The
seminars emphasized expressive arts such as
drawing, drama, storytelling, and dance. In
addition, organized sports were presented
as a means of building cooperation and
teamwork and oflearning to handle conflict
and frustration nonviolendy. The seminars
encouraged discussion about how to mix
Western and traditional methods and about
the strengths and weaknesses of various approaches.

ACTIVITIES AND
PRELIMINARY RESULTS
Following the training seminars, trainees
arranged in their communities a variety of
expressive arts activities, sporting events,
and educational dialogues. They also networked with traditional healers and, when
appropriate, they encouraged the use of traditional healing methods for children.
To foster emotional expression in children, trainees used free-drawing methodology, giving children blank sheets of paper
and crayons and asking them to draw whatever came to mind. Many children drew pictures related to their war experiences, enabling discussion with the trainer. Trainees

Psychosocial Intervention and Post-war Reconstruction in Angola

also conducted sttuctured group activities
such as singing, dancing, sports, and informal educational dialogues. Within the
community, trainees served as children's advocates who mobilized healers, teachers,
elders, and others in assisting children.
They arranged community discussions on
children's needs, on ways in which the
community could best meet these needs,
and on policy changes that would assist
children. Trainees received periodic follow-up visits and support from the trainers, who in turn received periodic followup visits and support from members of the
national team.
Recognizing the close interconnection
in a situation of poverty between psychosocial well-being and economic development,
the province-based teams and trainees assisted communities in planning and implementing projects to assist children. For example, communities that planned to build a
school could apply for a grant of approximately 10,000 U.S. dollars. The communities selected for fundiIig, provided by the
Dutch government, the World Bank, and
other sources, used the money to purchase
building materials and donated the labor
themselves. In this manner, communities
became agents of their own reconstruction.
By the end of the project, 172 training
seminars had been conducted for a total of
4,894 adults, well in excess of the goal of
training 4,000 adults. Although systematic
data from pre- and post-tests are not yet
available, focus group discussions indicated
that the training seminars have increased
awareness of children's psychosocial needs,
of connections between children's war experiences and their current behavior, and
of how the war affected adults and communities. In some communities, demand for
additional seminars was high since participation had become a symbol of one's commitment to children (Green & Wessells,

271

1997). Adults reported that the trammg
seminars had boosted their self-esteem by
validating the traditional aspects of culture
that had been suppressed during the colonial regime.
Focus group discussions with community leaders, parents, and trainees revealed
that the intervention (training plus activities) had numerous positive impacts on children: improved child-child and adult-child
. relationships; improved behavior and cooperation in the classroom; diminished isolation behavior; less evidence of war-related
games or toys; reduced violence and aggressive behavior between children; fewer concentration problems; decreased hypervigilence; and increased school attendance
(Green & Wessells, 1997).
In communities, the intervention stimulated both awareness and mobilization
around children's needs. Focus group discussions indicate that community influentials were more likely to understand the impacts of war on children and to interpret
children's negative behavior not as unruly
or disobedient but as related to their war experiences. In addition, communities provided for children more sttuctured activities
through soccer teams, dance groups, community kindergartens, theater groups, and
handiwork groups. The most striking results
occurred in communities that had initiated
construction projects such as building a
school or a community center. Community
leaders, trainees, and trainers agreed that
these projects had helped to build effective
planning and reestablished a sense of control and hope, all of which are vital elements of resilience. As the sttuctures were
built, they became visible monuments of the
community's empowerment, movement beyond its past, and efficacy in shaping its own
future. These results suggest the importance of integrating psychosocial and economic reconsttuction, thereby opening a

Peacemaking

272
pathway for wider processes of community
development.

THE REINTEGRATION OF UNDERAGE
SOLDIERS PROJECT
Worldwide, approximately a quarter of a
million children participate in military activity, often as the result of victimization, coercion, or economic desperation (Brett & McCallin, 1996). Many have killed or witnessed
tortures, executions, and deaths. In Angola
in 1994, there were over 9,000 child soldiers,
most of whom had been forcibly recruited
at age 13 to 14 years.
Child soldiers pose one of the greatest
obstacles to post-war reconstruction since
they have been socialized into a system of violence and deprived of education,job training, and normal family life (Wessells, 1997).
Communities may not welcome them home
out of fear, remembrance of the bad things
they had done, or concern that they will be
trouble-makers. While youth between the
ages of twelve and 18 years have the combination of physical stature and intellectual
ability to cause much social turmoil, they
are also in a position to make key choices
about how to live their lives. In this post-war
environment, work on demobilization and
reintegration of former child soldiers is a
high priority.
To complement the project on healing,
CCF/ Angola, with funding from USAID,
conducted concurrent work with UNICEF
on the demobilization and reintegration of
underage soldiers in seven provinces. Of the
5,171 children who were demobilized, 4,104
children were demobilized into the areas
where CCF and UNICEF were working.
Using a community-based approach,
the provincial teams worked through a network of over 200 activistas, local intluentials,
many of whom were connected with the
local church and were recognized by their

communities as having been in a good position to assist returning youth. The provincial teams trained the activistas on the psychosocial impacts of child soldiering and
on methods of enabling the reintegration
of former soldiers. The training seminars,
however, were oriented toward partnership
and mutual learning. The activistas provided valuable information about views of
their local communities toward returning
soldiers, the problems they would likely encounter, and means of preparing for successful integration.

Preparation
The activistas'work in regard to a particular
underage soldier occurred in three phases:
preparation, re-entry, and social integration. While the recently demobilized youth
were retained in quartering areas, activistas
helped identify the youths accurately and to
trace and notify their families, immediate or
extended. To set the stage for re-entry, the
activistas listened to family members' concerns, educated them about the situation of
child soldiers, and advised them on how to
aid the family and community reintegration
of the youth. Activistas also worked to increase understanding that possible behavioral problems such as disobedience may relate to the youth's war experiences. For
example, youth who had exercised command responsibilities or made life and
death decisions might have difficulty submitting to parental authority subsequently.

Re-Entry
The activistas also provided assistance in reuniting children with their families and in
mobilizing communities to receive the former child soldiers. This work was dangerous
and fraught with problems, as tensions remained high in the rural areas. There were
reports that groups of demobilized youths

Psychosocial Intervention and Post-war Reconstruction in Angola

had been re-recruited, and some youth had
disappeared en route to meeting their families. Frequent logistic failures occurred because of last-minute changes in the transportation dates and destination points, route
changes necessitated by damage to roads
and bridges, and problems of families knowing when and how to reach the designated
meeting points.
Under these conditions, logistics support constitutes a form of psychosocial assistance, one of the most basic elements of
which is family reunification. Helping with
logistics, the activistas succeeded in reuniting 2,153 former child soldiers with their
families. They also arranged community receptions for the former child soldiers. This
was an important first step in reconciling
former child soldiers with their communities, as no one had known how communities
would react. Fortunately, families and communities greeted the returning youth with
great joy and relief. Reunion occasioned
much singing, dancing, and traditional reentry rituals in which adults sprinkled the
youths' faces and heads with flour or water.

Social Reintegration
For particular children, spiritual cleansing
is a necessary first step toward reintegration
back into the community. In rural areas,
people believe that soldiers who have engage!i in unjustified acts of killing are spiritually contaminated by the unavenged spirits of those killed. Local communities fear
that the former soldiers will pollute spiritually the entire community, rupturing the
bond with the ancestors that constitutes the
foundation of the living community. West-ern-based interventions such as counseling
are ill-suited for addressing this situation.
When leaders or healers see the need for
spiritual cleansing, traditional purification rit-

273

uals conducted by traditional healers are
needed to restore spiritual harmony.
In one village, while the purification rituals are taking place, the women dance
around the child, gesturing with hands and
arms to ward away undesirable spirits or influences, sending them behind and away
from him. Mterwards, they each touch him
with both hands from head to foot to
cleanse him of impurities.
When the ritual is complete, the child is
taken to his village, where the villagers celebrate his return. A party is held in his home
where only traditional beverages are served,
principally to the village chiefs. The child
must be formally presented to the chiefs by
his parents. During the party, the child sits
beside the chiefs, drinking and talking to
them, thereby marking his changed status
in the village.
Later, the village elders make plans with
the young man about his future. They discuss whether he wants to stay in that village,
what kind of work he would like to do,
whether he prefers to live with his parents
or to build his own home, and whether the
elders should allocate some land for him to
cultivate.
In a spiritually centered culture, this purification ritual is of considerable importance. The process, however, also has key
social elements, as it communalizes recognition and acceptance that the young person
is no longer a soldier but a citizen of the village. Individual approaches would not address these communal elements effectively.
To date, 158 traditional ceremonies
have been conducted for returning young
soldiers, and over 20 have been documented by CCF teams, working with Dr. Alcinda Honwana, a social anthropologist at
the University of Cape Town. Much work remains to be done in the documentation of
the rituals and their psychological effects on
individuals and communities. Through doc-

Peacemaking

274
umentation, one may identify potentially
valuable local resources for healing and
reintegration that complement the tools
provided by Western psychology. The documentation process itself is an essential part
of psychosocial reconstruction since it helps
to reclaim traditions that had been damaged by colonialism but that provide a sense
of support, identity, and self-esteem.
In communities, activistas have assisted
social reintegration by helping to identify
school, job, and vocational training placements. These are vital for building hope for
the future and giving young people skills
that will enable them to support themselves.
From a psychosocial perspective, these placements are useful since participation in
culturally appropriate patterns of activity
provides a sense of nonnalcy, continuity,
and social meaning (Gibbs, 1997). Unfortunately, although most of the youth have
only three or four years of education, many
have chosen not to return to school because
of problems such as shortages of teachers
and schools and embarrassment over having
to take classes with young children in
primary school. Many of the demobilized
youths have returned to mostly agricultural
communities, and approximately one-third
of the youths listed their occupation in early
1998 as "helping the family in fanning." Because family lands are often limited, it is significant that some youths have purchased
their own farm land through funding provided by the World Bank. In addition, the
national team has administered a program
that provides small grants for quick-impact
projects, such as small business start-up.
Much additional work, however, is needed
to create viable paths through which youths
make a living.
In many areas, both elders and parents
report that overall, returning underage soldiers were reintegrating into their families
and communities. Integration, however, is a

long-tenn process, and many difficulties
have been encountered. Family members
reported that returning minors often did
not want to work, had problems communicating, or displayed anger frequently. The
youth themselves reported that they got sick
frequently, thought often about their experiences, angered easily, and had difficulty
sleeping. It is too early to gauge the success
of youths' reintegration.
In addition, powerful macrosocial barriers to integration exist, not least of which is
the re-eruption of fighting. Reports of rerecruitment are not uncommon, and activistas have lost contact with some minors. Even
in the absence of fighting, obstacles exist in
the fonn of extreme poverty and lack of educational access. Extreme inflation and
shortages of food and basic materials tempt
youth to use violence to obtain what they
want. Collectively, these barriers provide a
reminder that although peace must be built
at the grassroots level, the achievement of
peace requires structural changes and the
transfonnation of larger social systems.

TOWARD THE FUTURE
Looking foward in this new millennium, war
prevention remains a very high priority. To
prevent war, it is essential to have viable models of post-war reconstruction that break ongoing cycles of violence. This chapter describes a model that builds local capacity
through training local trainers and integrates psychosocial work into the larger project of post-conflict reconstruction. Although the particulars of the model would
need to be tailored to the realities of specific
cultures and situations, it has several generalizable features. First, it is holistic and avoids
the individualism and fragmentation that has
attended many humanitarian projects. Second, it is community-based and emphasizes
participation and leadership by local people.

Psychosocial Intervention and Post-war Reconstruction in Angola

Third, it is culturally grounded and supports
and utilizes community psychosocial resources that fit with local beliefs and practices. It avoids the application of Western
methods in a colonial mode, and it invites intercultural dialogue and joint learning that
can significantly enrich peace psychology.
Fourth, it entails systematic documentation
and evaluation processes. These are important not only for donor accountability but
also for enabling communities to take stock
of how they are doing, to improve program
effectiveness, to plan effectively, and to present data that may influence policy decisions.
We believe the model, applied with cultural
sensitivity and critical awareness, could be
used to assist war-affected children and communities worldwide.
In the future, psychosocial assistance
will need to be applied on a wide scale to respond effectively to societal crises such as

275

those in Bosnia, Rwanda, and other intrastate conflicts. Failure to include psychosocial assistance in programs of post-war reconstruction is likely to leave wounds and
social cleavages that invite additional conflict. This said, one must humbly appreciate
the limits on what psychosocial assistance
and peace psychology can accomplish. As
indicated by the case of Angola, which is
moving once again toward internal war,
psychosocial assistance alone cannot build
peace. There must also be political will for
peace, and this has been sorely lacking on
UNITA's side. If psychosocial assistance is to
be more than patching up people so they
can fight more, it must be integrated thoroughly with wider programs of political and
economic reconstruction: In this respect,
the future challenge is to develop multidisciplinary, highly integrated aproaches to the
reconstruction of war-torn societies.

SECTION IV

PEACEBUILDING: APPROACHES
TO SOCIAL JUSTICE
Introduction by
Daniel J. Christie

Peace psychologists are not only developing theories and practices aimed at the prevention of
direct violence, but are also working to mitigate stntctural violence, which means the reduction of
hierarchical relations within and between societies. Hierarchical relations privilege those on
the top while oppressing, exploiting, and dominating those on the bottom. Framed positively,
we can conceptualize peacebuilding as movement toward social justice which occurs when political stntctures become more inclusive by giving voice to those who have been marginalized in
decisions that affect their well-being, and economic structures become transformed so that those
who have been exploited gain greater access to material resources that satisfy their basic needs.
Although the chapters in this section focus mainly on structural transformation, peacebuilding has both structural and cultural dimensions (Gal tung, 1976; 1996). While structure
refers to external, objective conditions of a social system, culture refers to internal, subjective
conditions of collectivities within a social system. When people share subjectivities that justify
and legitimize inequitable power relations in political and economic structures, cultural violence is taking place (Galtung, 1996). For example, just World Thinking is a belief shared by
some people that rationalizes disparities in power and wealth by assuming the world is fair;
therefore, people get what they deserve (Lerner, 1980). Cultural violence and hierarchical societal structures are mutually reinforcing and highly resistant to change.
In contrast to cultural violence, the subjectivities associated with peacebuilding are characterized by an awakening of critical consciousness (Freire, 1970) in which the powerless
begin to critically analyze and break through dominant cultural discourses that support oppression. It is the awakening and enacting of a critical consciousness that is central to this section on peacebuilding.

WHY PEACEBUILDING MAneRS
Peacebuilding matters because those with few resources have severe restrictions in everyday
choices about health, education, child care, and other matters that affect their well-being.
Peacebuilding redresses these inequalities and promotes the realization of human potentials
for all members of a society.

277

278

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

In addition, other peaceful approaches, such as peacekeeping and peacemaking, tend to
be reactive and may fail to deal with power differentials. Emphasis on peacekeeping by threatening to remove or actually eliminate violent people from society, without attending to the structural roots of violence, can lead to acceptance of "law and order" societies (Galtung, 1969)
where individuals who commit criminal offenses are incarcerated and macro-level structural
changes are ignored. Peacemaking is also limited in part because those who have power can insist on peaceful means of resolving disputes, while ignoring socially unjust ends.

PEACEBUILDING THEMES IN SECTION IV
Peace building Challenges Dominant Cultural Discourses
Several chapters offer thought-provoking critiques of discourses that support structural violence. Webster and Perkins critically analyze the field of psychology when they argue that
structural violence is inherent in any discipline that locates the source of a problem in the individual without due consideration of structuraI factors in a society. They point out that
poverty is related to child maltreatment; however, by ignoring the relationship, it is possible to
locate the source of the problem inside the abuser instead of dealing with both the abuser
and the structures of a society that generate enormous differences in material well-being. Similarly, Dawes is critical of the ideology that underlies psychology, an ideology that is greatly influenced by the tenets of capitalism, emphasizing individual freedom and psychological constructs of self (e.g., self-actualization) over equality and collective well-being.
McKay and Mazurana's critique of dominant discourses extends to peace psychology, arguing that the field is patriarchal or male dominated, as exemplified by the largely invisible
contributions of women to peacebuilding, which they explore in their research. Steger discusses how Gandhi's successful experiments in nonviolent structural change challenges the
dominant assumption in the field of international relations that "power" can only be derived
from the capacity to do violence on others. For Gandhi, major social change was accomplished by nonviolent means.

Peacebuilding Honors Multiple Voices and the Co-construction of Social Change
Nearly all of the authors are sensitive to the possibility of peace psychologists unwittingly committing ideological violence, which can occur when mainstream Western psychological approaches are exported to cultures that operate with different cosmologies of peace and social
justice. These indigenous understandings may be regarded as inferior to the scientific approach used in the West (see especially the chapters by Dawes and by Wessells, Schwebel, and
Anderson).
Webster and Perkins cite the problem that arises when policymakers fail to honor local
voices and co-opt the language of empowerment while having little or no impact on those
who are unempowered. Dawes is emphatic about the value of a relativistic perspective which recognizes that the meaning of social justice can only be understood when situated in a particular cultural context. Not surprisingly, nearly all of the chapters emphasize the importance of
peace practitioners listening to local people, becoming contextually sensitive, honoring different perspectives, and forming partnerships so that social change is co-constructed.

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

279

An Activist Agenda Is Essential to Knowledge Generation
All of the authors in the peacebuilding section endorse an activist agenda, which nonviolently changes structures of violence to structures of peace. Moreover, the knowledge and
skills used by practitioners for peace building purposes are often learned through activism,
what Gandhi referred to as "experiments in truth," rather than through traditional academic
training. As Mayton and Steger note in their chapters, Gandhi's political theory of peacebuilding was developed inductively, through the accumulation of concrete encounters with
oppression.
Montiel's chapter on peacebuilding is also problem-driven and informed by her experiences as an activist psychologist during the "people power movement" in the Philippines, a
large-scale peacebuilding movement in which the Filipino people transformed political structures and gained greater representation and voice. Wessells, Schwebel, and Anderson also address activism as one of several specific avenues through which psychologists can contribute to
public policy. They note that peace psychologists have training in mobilizing people and
changing attitudes. Dawes also favors an activist agenda, but his approach more directly addresses social transformation. Steeped in the struggle against apartheid, Dawes offers insight
on psychological processes involved in moving people toward democratization.

Empowerment Is Central to the Peacebuilding Process
Webster and Perkins define empowerment as individual and group efforts to gain control over
their destiny. They shed light on the dynamics of empowerment at various levels, beginning
with the individual and moving to the level of a whole society. Similarly, McKay and Mazurana assert that women's peacebuilding efforts at the grassroots level are empowering as
women seek solutions to local problems. Dawes addresses empowerment from the framework
of a liberation psychology that is unabashedly political and aspires to work in partnership with
those who are oppressed and exploited. The goal is empowerment and emancipation of the
powerless.

Peacebuilding as the Sustainable Satisfaction of Basic Human Needs
The satisfaction of basic human needs for all people is central to many analyses of peacebuilding. Montiel views structural peacebuilding as the transformation of societal structures toward
a configuration in which "all groups have more equitable control over politico-economic resources needed to satisfy basic needs." Webster and Perkins view empowerment as a process
through which people gain control over the environment and their ability to satisfy basic material needs through adequate housing, health care, education, and employment. McKay and
Mazurana note that many grassroots women's groups emphasize psychosocial and basic
human needs, such as safety, food, and shelter. According to Steger, Gandhi's perspective on
peace building was tantamount to the nonviolent pursuit of socially just ends where the ends
referred to the sustainable satisfaction of human needs for all people.
Wessells, Schwebel, and Anderson note that sustainable societies meet "the needs of
the current generation without compromising the ability to meet the needs of future

280

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

generations"; in other words, intergenerational justice. At the same time, Wessells and colleagues caution that warfare also satisfies human needs. Reiterating William James's treatise
on war, they note that war meets a variety of needs, such as the need for heroism and excitement. It follows that one task for peace psychologists is to find ways to present constructive alternatives for satisfying war-related needs. Dawes is critical of any human needs approach that
aspires to a hierarchical construction. He points out that Western liberal values put a premium on political rights, but in some societies there are greater needs for good nutrition and
other material need satisfiers.
Taken together, although the precise number, kind, and order of human needs vary
across cultures, many of the authors view the sustainable satisfaction of human needs for all
people as coterminous with social justice.

ORGANIZATION OF THE CHAPTERS
The lead chapter by Cristina Montiel, "Toward a Psychology of Structural Peacebuilding,"
frames the concept of peacebuilding. Drawing on two historical cases from the Filipino context, Montiel illustrates the political and economic dimensions of peacebuilding. The chapter
makes the powerful point that unlike the harmony that is sought in peacemaking processes,
peacebuilding engenders enormous levels of tension and discomfort, often resulting in psychological distress, pain, and sometimes even death.
The second chapter by Andy Dawes takes us to South Mrica where psychologists participated in dismantling apartheid, a system of legal racial discrimination that lasted until 1994
when democracy was achieved. Dawes offers a provocative and critical analysis of the hidden
values built into mainstream Western scientific psychology with its focus on the autonomous
individual. The chapter offers an alternative, liberation psychology, a form of peace psychology that seeks to use psychological knowledge to socially transform societies. Dawes discusses
the emancipatory agenda ofliberation psychology in the South Mrican context as he recounts
some of the struggles that psychologists faced during the apartheid era.
Mter examining peacebuilding in the Filipino and South African contexts, we tum to
Gandhi's pursuit of social justice in India under colonial rule in the middle of the twentieth
century. Dan Mayton offers an introduction to the key concepts in Gandhi's political philosophy from a social psychological perspective. He notes that principles of truth, nonviolence,
and personal suffering are central to Gandhi's goal of political self-determination for the Indian people. Mayton's introduction to Gandhian principles lays the groundwork for Manfred
Steger's chapter, which pits Gandhi's political theory of nonviolence against a realist philosophical framework that equates power with the capacity to do violence. For anyone who clings to
the view that nonviolence cannot be a powerful force for social change, the case studies that
Steger presents should leave naysayers with greater humility. One case even takes on what
some might regard as the ultimate test of nonviolent power, the successful application of nonviolent social change procedures in the context of Nazi Germany.
nse Hakvoort and Solveig Hagglund give voice to arguably the most marginalized group
in the world, children. In their cross-cultural study, Dutch and Swedish children express their
views on the nature of peace and strategies to attain peace. Hakvoort and Hagglund demonstrate the diversity of children's concepts of peace and relate them to the varying contexts
within which children are socialized.

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

281

Linda Webster and Doug Perkins tum our attention to social injustices in the United
States, emphasizing the effects of structural violence on children and families. These authors
give a great deal of clarity to what can be a murky construct, "empowerment," and delineate
how it operates at various levels of aggregation, from individual empowerment to the empowerment of whole societies.
Susan McKay and Diane Mazurana pick up on the theme of peacebliilding and argue for
"gender-aware and women-empowering political, social, economic, and human rights." Feminist ideology is asserted and the centrality of gender equity in the peacebuilding process is
emphasized. Global in scope, the McKay and Mazurana chapter surveys the many and varied
ways in which women contribute to the reduction of direct and structural violence. Consistent
with feminist views, they offer a critical analysis of the narrow conception of peace, as the absence of war, and note that women's peacebuilding efforts extend to the social justice arena.
The authors define women's peacebuilding broadly, as activities that contribute to a "culture
of peace."
The concept cultures of peace is central to the last chapter in the peacebuilding section by
Mike Wessells, Milt Schwebel, and Anne Anderson. The chapter is highly integrative and
proactive, setting out a long-term agenda and delineating elements of cultures of peace that
psychologists can actively pursue in the interest of preventing direct violence and diminishing
structural violence. They discuss multiple venues for psychologists who want to make a difference in the public arena. Readers should come away from this chapter with an appreciation
for the depth and breadth of peace psychology as well as a greater awareness of meaningful
ways of contributing to cultures of peace.

CHAPTER 23

TOWARD A PSYCHOLOGY
OF STRUCTURAL PEACEBUILDING
Cristina Jayme Montiel

This chapter describes concepts related to
the process of changing structures of violence to structures of peace, a transformative
process called structural peacebuilding. I
will begin with two stories depicting structural peacebuilding in the Philippines.

A STRUCTURAL VIEW OF VIOLENCE

AND PEACE
Two Social Narratives
The first account illustrates a group's efforts
to transfonn structures of economic iIYustice. Seventeen farmers engaged in a
hunger strike, struggling against the economically exploitative conditions of landlessness (Lasay & Macasaet, 1998a, I 998b ).
The second narrative talks about political
oppression. Mter 14 years under dictatorial
rule, millions of Filipinos banded together
in a mass-based movement called People's
Power to dismande structures of political
authoritarianism (Licuanan, 1987; Magno,
1986; Mercado. 1986).

Against Economic Exploitation:
Farmers Hunger Strike for Land. The
hunger strike story started when the Philippine government awarded 144 hectares to
the landless fanners, in an effort to distribute agricultural land more equitably. The

282

landowner was a multimillionaire who
owned other vast lands outside this contested estate. He refused to give up the 144
hectares and hired paramilitary forces to
guard the farm peripheries (Lasay & Macasaet, 1998a). At this point, the farmers considered three options. First, they could give
up the land and go landless. Going
underground with the New People's Anny
and facing the landowner's military strength
with their own anned force constituted a
second option. The final choice was to embark on a hunger strike until either the land
was given to them or they died of hunger.
In late 1997, they decided to go on a
hunger strike.
To generate support from sympathetic
groups the farmers began networking with
nongovernment organizations (NGOs) in
MetroManila. 1 I first met them at this juncture when they consulted with me about the
psychopolitical strategies of a hunger strike.
We planned some media coverage to mobilize public pressure, and talked about what
happened to one's mind and body when one
stopped eating. We also discussed the psy-

'MetroManila refers to the primary metropolitan area
of the Philippines where national government offices.
media stations, financial centers. and leading universities are located.

Toward a Psychology of Structural Peacebuilding

chological and political implications of an irreversible-till-death commitment. Then their
hunger strike began. They set up camp in
front of the Department ofAgrarian Reform,
and called daily press conferences. Mter a
few days, the weaker ones collapsed and were
hospitalized. As more farmers collapsed
from hunger, Philippine President Fidel
Ramos intervened in the conflict, granting
one-third of the land to the single landowner, and the remaining two-thirds of the
estate to the 17 farmers. The farmers saw this
allocation as a victory, so they called off their
strike, celebrated, thanked their NCO allies,
and returned home to their land (Lasay &
Macasaet, 1998a). I will stop my story here,
but add that the farmers' "victory" was only
short-lived, and their peaceful saga for land
ownership continues (Lasay & Macasaet,
1998b).

Against Political Oppression: People's Power for Democratic Structures.
The second narrative details the People's
Power movement to dismantle authoritarian political structures (Mercado, 1986). In
September 1972, after Philippine President
Ferdinand Marcos declared martial law,
thousands of prodemocracy Filipinos were
arrested, tortured, and killed. In 1983, Marcos's political archrival Senator Benigno
Aquino returned from his U.S. exile to persuade Marcos to grant more freedoms to
the nation. Mter Senator Aquino's plane
landed, military men pulled him out of the
plane, shut the door behind them, and in a
few seconds Aquino's dead body lay on the
tarmac. The Marcos administration blamed
the local communists for the brutal slaying,
but almost every Filipino knew otherwise
(Mercado, 1986).
The burial march of Senator Aquino,
attended by millions, marked the first massive but peaceful show of collective anger
against Marcos's rule. This nonviolent dis-

283

play of force by MetroManilans set the political tone for the next three years in which
citizens were no longer paralyzed by fear.
Under the leadership of Senator Aquino's
widow Corazon Aquino, Filipinos poured
out of their homes to join the escalating
protest rallies, braving the hazards of arrests, police beatings, snipers, tear gas attacks, and water cannons (Mercado, 1986).
As soon as Marcos announced his presidential bid in the snap national elections
in early 1986, oppositionists from various
ideological positions united behind the
dictator's electoral rival, Senator Benigno
Aquino's widow, Corazon. Marcos then declared himself the victor in an election
widely perceived as rigged. The public
anger against rampant electoral cheating
ripened the atmosphere for sociopolitical
change.
In February 1986, Marcos's longtime allies Defense Minister Juan Ponce Enrile and
Armed Forces Vice Chief of Staff Fidel
Ramos announced over the radio that they
no longer supported the Marcos government. In a few hours, hundreds of thousands of pro-Aquino civilians surrounded
the military camps where the breakaway military faction of Enrile and Ramos fortified
their armed defense. The unarmed swarm
of Filipinos functioned as human shields between the Marcos tanks and the EnrileRamos military wing. The throng of nonviolent protesters sat, ate, sang, prayed, and
slept on the main highway in front of the
military camps. On the fourth day of what
became popularly known as "People's
Power," Marcos escaped to Hawaii by helicopter. He was toppled without much
bloodshed. In a few days, Corazon Aquino
set up office as the new President of the
Republic of the Philippines (Mercado,
1986). In the next twelve months, the new
democratic government appointed local
government heads to replace the Marcosian

284

minIons throughout the country. A year
after the peaceful upheaval, Filipinos went
to the polls to elect their local leaders, causing the Philippine authoritarian political
structure to become more egalitarian.
The stories of the farmers' hunger
strike and the Philippine People's Power
movement can be used to elucidate concepts about social structure. The discussion
below refers to the two social narratives to
concretize some structural ideas.

Social Structure

Social structure pertains to patterns of relatively permanent hierarchical relations
among groups or collectivities in a social system (Parsons, 1961). This definition highlights three properties of social structure.
First, social systems are the primary unit of
analysis, not interpersonal relations (Blau,
1969). For example, in the hunger strike,
the structural basis of the incident was the
configuration of relations between the landless and the landed in the Philippines, not
the interpersonal relations between the
landowner and the 17 farmers. A second
property of social structure is that it is
marked by social differentiation that is not
only heterogeneous but also unequal (Blau,
1977). This means that differences among
collectivities in a structure are not horizontal but vertical in nature (Galtung, 1978)
with those on the top having the most
wealth and power. A structural perspective
is sensitized to social power differentials between groups. A third characteristic of social structure is its invariance or tendency to
resist change, even though there may be
lower-amplitude shorter-time-duration alterations in a social system (Parsons, 1961).
For example, in the Philippines, the unequal intergroup relations based on land
ownership have been embedded in the social system for about four centuries.

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

Structural Violence
A social structure is violent when its vertical
arrangement of inequality prevents huge
numbers of collectivities from satisfying
basic human needs (Christie, 1997; Galtung, 1975, 1978, 1980a, 1980b, 1996). Resources are controlled by a privileged few.
Massive deprivations underneath a layer of
elite overindulgence characterize structurally

violent social configurations.
Galtung (l980a) separates the sources of
violence into two types: actors and structures.
For example, if students who lead a prodemocracy march are beaten up and then
detained by government forces, the youths'
needs for security and freedom are blocked
by specific armed individuals. The violence
on the protesters is interpersonal and is
traced to the people in the military who behaved aggressively. Peace workers who focus
on the individual actor tend to employ
strategies aimed to change the mental processes and/or behaviors of aggressive persons, and may remain oblivious to the goal
of restructuring vertical intergroup relations embedded in the social system.
The primary aim of peace workers with
a structural perspective is to restructure vertical systems toward more equal systemic configurations. For instance, an unequal distribution of agricultural land ownership in a
country gives rise to economic misery. likewise, a system of political authoritarianism squashes self-determination needs and
alienates the citizenry from their own government. The challenge of structural peace
work remains as long as social inequalities
persist in the social system, even when direct violence and other human rights violations are no longer manifest.
Variables related to structure-dependent
deprivations are unlike the variables of violence that psychologists traditionally examine within an intrapersonal or interpersonal
framework (Berkowitz, 1993). Structural vio-

285

Toward a Psychology of Structural Peacebuilding
lence lacks intent, subject, object, and interpersonal action (Galtung, 1975). For example, collective identity deprivations caused by
an authoritarian system arise from the hierarchical intergroup relations between the
military forces and ordinary citizens. This
pervading vertical configuration ofpolitical powers cannot be described as possessing aggressive intent because the problem is embedded
in a system and is not due to the motivation of
an individual or collectivity.
Violent conditions that are actor-dependent and structure-dependent can be separated from each other only on an abstract
analytical plane. In real life, structurerelated violence and individual actions support each other. An episode of interpersonal violence may occur in which a military
officer hits a student. On one level, the violence is between two actors. On another
level, the violence is supported by the vertical arrangement of power.
Structural Peace

The absence of structural violence is structural peace (Galtung, 1975). Structural peace
is· a utopic system (i.e., it does not exist in its
pure form in the real world) marked by egalitarian configurations, wherein decisionmaking powers over resource allocation are
distributed equally in a society. Structurally
peaceful social systems are marked by equitably-distributed decision-powers in the production, allocation, and utilization of economic, political, and cultural resources.
Structural peace conditions contain social
differentiation, but the intergroup variations
are horizontal rather than vertical.
MaIlman (1980) clarifies the relationship
between resource control, structural peace,
and access to need satisfiers. He explains that
when the distribution of available need-satisfiers are controlled by the elite, an inequitable
sharing of satisfiers tends to arise and produce
massive deprivations among those at the bot-

tom of the system. By definition, when decision-making over vital resources is distributed
horizontally, each group will protect its interests but at the same time will have to make its
interests compatible with other groups' interests. The process of equally-shared decisionmaking brings about a more equitable distribution of basic needs satisfiers and lessens
conditions of massive need deprivations that
mark structural violence.
Let us use the farmers' narrative to illustrate structural peace. In the Philippines,
land is inequitably distributed and the
landowning elite decide how to utilize their
land resources. Predictably, unilateral decisions of the landowner in the hunger strike
case favored self-interest and resulted in
chronic poverty among the landless tillers
(Lasay & Macasaet, 1998a, 1998b). In a
utopic condition of structural peace, landowners would possess less land and farmers
would acquire a greater portion of the land
through cooperatives owned collectively and
managed by themselves. Tillers of the soil
would then have more decision-making powers over the land harvests. In the hunger
strike story, the farmers were already organized into a cooperative called Mapalad
(Blessed), as they prepared alternative peaceful structures and struggled to transform the
inequitable system (Lasay & Macasaet, 1998a,
1998b).

STRUCTURAL PEACEBUILDING
Building peace entails changing structures
of violence to structures of peace. More
specifically, structural peacebuilding is (a) a
social psychological process of transforming
(b) relatively permanent unequal relationships among collectivities in a social structure (c) to new sets of intergroup relations
where all groups have more equitable control
over politico-economic resources needed to satisfy basic needs.

286

Structural Peace Is Not
Structural Peacebuilding
Structural peace is very different from structural peacebuilding. First, peacebuilding is
a means while structural peace is an end.
Second, peace building is characterized by
disequilibrium and strain, as collectivities
disengage from a structurally violent system.
On the other hand, structural peace is an attribute of a utopic social structure, marked
by equilibrium and harmony. Finally, peacebuilding is dynamic while structural peace is
relatively invariant. I will now expound on
the nature of structural peacebuilding.

Building Social Strain
Since structural peacebuilding necessitates
systemic transformation, one needs to take
a closer look at sources of structural change.
From where does change originate? Structural shifts usually arise from strains internal
to the system (Godelier, 1978; Merton, 1968;
Parsons, 1961). Structural strain exists in
relationships between groups in a system
when there is pressure to change the relationships to new ones incompatible with the
dominant structure (Parsons, 1961).
Paradoxically, the route to creating horizontal structures includes the production of
strain within vertical systems. Structural
change arises as the social system seeks ways
to reduce the pervasive strain. There are
other ways to lessen strain, such as bringing
back full conformity with the dominant structure, or some accommodation, but these efforts do not result in structural transformation
(Parsons, 1961). Since vertical structures
are deeply embedded in social systems,
structural peace building involves the creation (not the cessation) of social strain,
conflict, and disequilibrium between two
or more structural collectivities, producing
movement toward more horizontal rela-

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

tions. The idea of increasing conflict to produce transformative strain in structural
peacebuilding disagrees with current conflict resolution and peacemaking strategies
that seek to reduce strain (Rubin et al.,
1994).
Structural change transforms inequitable relationship patterns in the social configuration. When structural strain is resolved too early and equilibrium is restored
prematurely, the "peaceful" process rebuilds
full or partial conformity with inequitable
structures. Structural peacebuilding is hindered by such circumstances. For example,
at one point in the hunger strike, the Philippine government's Office of the Presidential Adviser for the Peace Process (OPAPP)
met with the protesting farmers. One official from OPAPP pleaded with the strikers
to stop their hunger strike for the sake of
peace but the farmers refused. If farmers
had agreed, the landowner would have retained all 144 hectares of the agricultural
plot.
As psychologists and peace activists
carry out peace work in the midst of social
conflict, they confront the invisible danger
of prematurely restoring structural equilibrium, even when peacebuilding requires
precisely the opposite, systemic disequilibrium.
Strain resolution, or what psychologists may
refer to as conflict resolution (Rubin et aI.,
1994), may interrupt the ripening structural
change process with untimely calls for intrapersonal forgiveness and interpersonal
reconciliation.
Discussion of the effectiveness of strain
resolution begs the question: when the
structural status quo is restored in the name
of forgiveness and reconciliation, which
structural groups stand to gain? I am not
purporting that there is no room for forgiveness and reconciliation in the broader
scenario of structural peace and peacebuilding. Only that untimely forgiveness and rec-

Toward a Psychology of Structural Peacebuilding
onciliation may be the new "opium of
the people" (Marx, 1844/1975, p. 175), and
cause people to disengage from the strain
and disequilibrium involved in structural
peacebuilding. 2
Groups in the dominant structure tend
to control local arsenals and use these to resist attempts to change systemic configurations. For example, the landowner in the
fanners' situation hired local paramilitary
troops to barricade the peripheries of the
controversial land. Likewise, during the rise
of nonviolent demonstrations in the Philippines, military forces fought the rallyists
with tear gas and bullets. Margarita Cojuangco (1986), a Filipina prodemocracy activist, recorded her experience during an
anned military street offensive with these
words:
I'm writing you while events are still vivid in
my mind ... I am writing about the Quezon
Boulevard rally ... I had a borrowed gas
mask. The others brought theirs too, along
with lemon juice and water to protect their
faces from tear gas ... We locked our arms
tightly to keep from breaking ranks ... Suddenly, the water hoses were turned on us : ..
A few minutes later, I heard (tear gas) cans
fall on the pavement ... Suddenly, a composite 3 shouted: "Armalitesl" ... I saw a long
gun behind a military man's shield ... I
took a deep breath and remained unafraid.
I cannot explain how I mustered all that
courage. Then, fire trucks and truncheonand-shield-bearing soldiers came at us ...
Gunshots were fired. The order came:
2Karl Marx (1844/1975) claimed that religion was the
opium of the people because beliefs in the supernatural and the afterlife artificially satisfied poor people
and pushed them to accept their earthly destitutions
without much discontent. Similarly, premature calIs for
forgiveness and reconciliation may result in artificial
social harmony, enticing structural victims to accept
the predominant vertical structures instead of changing the systemic violence.
3Seasoned street protesters, usually from the ranks of
the studenlS or urban poor.

287
"Run!" My partner4 Guila Maramba and I
ran, arm in arm. (pp. 35-36)
Persistent systemic resistance and the
relatively invariant nature of social structures make structural peace building a formidable challenge to human societies. As a
protective counterforce to structural invariance, the production and management of
strain necessitates some kind of social
power. The following section explains some
social psychological ideas related to social
power and structural peacebuilding.

Structural Transformation Is Possible
Social structures are implemented through
embedded power systems. Blalock (1989) defines power in terms of dependency. Party X is
dependent on Y to the degree that Y controls X's access to X's valued goals. The
power ofY over X is the degree to which X's
dependence on Y exceeds Vs dependence
on X. Structural verticality means the elite
at the top hold power over the production, allocation, and utilization of resources
needed to satisfy basic needs (Galtung,
1975; Mallman, 1980; Parsons, 1961). For
example, in the fanners' story, the landowner claimed economic monopoly over
the land resources needed to alleviate the
fanners' misery. Similarly, under martial
law's authoritarian structure, Philippine
military forces controlled the political resources needed by the citizenry for self-determination, which means political representation and voice in matters that affect their
well being. But social power is implemented
through human action. The nature of
human action carries the key to the possibility of structural change despite structural
rigidity and resistance.

"For safety, street marchers were required to arm-lock
with a buddy or partner at all times, even when running away from military firing.

288
Action is a behavior that is purposive
and cognitively informed (Porpora, 1987).
The mental facilities of purpose and cognition make it possible to disconnect human
action from the deterministic hold of oppressive and exploitative social structures.
These mental abilities place importance on
one's subjective facilities as distinct from the
objective structural conditions surrounding
the action. When the farmers chose to go
on a hunger strike to obtain agricultural
land, they made a subjective choice outside
the boundaries of a structural reaction that
would have kept them subservient and
locked in the position of landless structural
victims. Accompanied by subjective purpose
and cognition, the farmers' action became
structurally transformative and disconnected
from an automatic (human) response to
(structural) stimuli.

Producing Force: Networking·, Mobilizing, Conscientizing. What is the basis
of the force of hunger strikes, People's
Power, and other structural peacebuilding
methods? Certainly the force is not attributed to the traditional power-bases of a violent social structure, which concentrates capital, land, and military arsenals. The social
power of peaceful structural transformation
emanates from collective human actions,
mobilized into a synchronized social force,
purposefully directed toward disequilibrating vertical structures and building new egalitarian systems. To produce systemically transformative power, structural peacebuilders
face three concrete tasks: networking, mobilizing, and political education.
Networking involves creating an alternative collectivity outside the oppressive structure, by building organizational links with
sympathetic individuals and groups. For example, when the farmers decided to go on a
hunger strike, they networked with nongovernment groups in MetroManila. The

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

prodemocracy movement during the Marcos dictatorship established an extensive
web of sympathizers among church workers,
students, laborers, business leaders, andmore discretely-even within the ranks of
military institutions.
The human potentials available in the
counterstructure networks do not generate
social power until the groups are mobilized
into a single coordinated social force. Mobilization aims to produce collective action
where the networked individuals operate in
unison to oppose the actions emanating
from the vertical structure. Among the
farmers, the mobilized action was their
hunger strike, while prodemocracy activists
consolidated their networks during mass
protest actions.
Political education pertains to the discussion of underlying structural issues related
to the mobilized action. Networking and
mobilization aim to change verticality in the
objective structure, while education transforms the corresponding subjective verticality within one's consciousness. Political
education functions to create a collective
cognition and purpose directed toward disequilibrating exploitative systems and creating alternative peaceful structures. The pedagogical style of political education should
promote nonverticality, or else a new hiera:rchical culture of intellectual domination may
rise out of the peace building movement. Filipinos working for structural transformation
often used Paolo Freire's (1970) process of
nonvertical education called conscientization,
where the emphasis is on relationships that
are horizontal instead of authoritarian and
hierarchical.
My own peace building experiences during the Marcos dictatorship included networking and mobilizing tasks, though most
of my energies went to running political education workshops around the Philippines.
We facilitated conscientization sessions cov-

289

Toward a Psychology of Structural Peacebuilding

ering topics such as structural analysis,
vision of person and society, Philippine political spectrum, active nonviolence, and
strategies for change. Understandably, the
military forces grew suspicious of our seminars. At one workshop in a rural town in the
flocos Region, as we held our discussions
under a huge mango tree, two military tanks
came down the road and parked a few meters away in an attempt to harass us. We felt
afraid, but continued our political discussions, and were much relieved when the
tanks rolled away without harming anyone
in the workshop.

Creative Social Power and Structural Roles. The production and management of a peacebuilding force demands
three social psychological processes related
to roles. First, a conscientization process is
experienced as people grow aware of their
respective structural roles. Second, individuals disentangle from the behaviors and cognitions prescribed by their positions in the
embedded inequitable system. Third, individuals acquire new roles needed to create
and utilize social disequilibrium. These
three requirements apply across-status, regardless of one's structural position in the

exploiter-victim relationship.
For example, when landlords and landless farmers interact, they may either play
out their structurally determined roles or
choose to step out of these roles. Those who
opt to remain in their structural roles do
not produce any social strain and may even
obtain rewards for such behaviors. For instance, it was widely rumored that farmers
who remained subservient and did not join
the hunger strike received cash incentives
from the landowner. On the other hand,
the 17 hunger-striking farmers demonstrated the possibility of stepping out of
their subservience roles in the structure, as

they took more strain-producing counterstructure roles vis-a.-vis the landowner.
In another example of structure-free
creative actions, civilians who joined protest
actions showed that it was possible to step
out of structural roles at the juncture where
citizens interacted with their military role
partners. Creative action is not limited to
victims; the top dog can do likewise. For example, during street rallies where police
beat up protesters, a police officer would occasionally intervene and ask for mercy in
the name of the victim. And even at the
height of martial law, Ihad the personal experience of having a prison guard smuggle
out a letter to me from a political prisoner
who was being held incommunicado inside
a military camp.
In summary, the forcefulness of structural
peacebuilding comes from: (a) creative-i.e.,
not structure-determined-action (b) skilled
in the production and management of nonviolent social strain (c) collected or mobilized
into conscientized social power (d) purposefully directed by the dual goals of removing
structural inequities and crafting more equitable structural configurations. These procedural requirements open up systemic
transformation to the positive contributions
of structure-sensitive psychologists. The following section explores some psychological
aspects of structural peacebuilding.

APPLYING PSYCHOLOGY
TO STRUCTURAL PEACEBUILDING
Producing Nonviolent
Social Strain
The production of nonviolent strain includes at least three psychological ingredients: a sense of sacrifice and shared
spirituality among participants, practical
politico-organizational tactics while facing a

290
militarized enemy, and leadership which is
ascetic, pragmatic, and decentralized.

Sense of Sacrifice and Shared Spirituality. Stepping out of one's structural
role expectations usually produces negative
consequences for those who do so. At the
very least, the vertical system fails to reward
role-deviant behaviors materially, psychologically, and/or professionally; at worst, the
deviance is punished. In our example of
the land distribution controversy, the 17
hunger-striking farmers were ostracized by
other community members who followed
the wishes of the landowner. Furthermore,
the act of disequilibrating embedded structures, while simultaneously refraining from
countermilitary offensives, demands much
personal sacrifice from the peace builders.
The siren call of counterviolence is constantly present. For example, the protesting
farmers could have joined the New People's
Anny to fight the landowner. Instead, they
chose to embark on a hunger strike-a collective act that destabilizes a system through
group self-sacrifice. Likewise, during the People's Power Revolution in the Philippines,
large numbers of unarmed civilians placed
their bodies in front of military tanks. Engaging in structural peacebuilding often
calls for a readiness to lay down one's life if
things do not go well. In a sense, it is this
openness to pain and/or death that helps
bring forth the human force to dismantle
a structure without creating additional violence.
In structural peacebuilding, sacrifice is
not an individual behavior, but rather a collective act by a group determined to produce its own purposive social force. Usually,
the collective activity is accompanied by a
sense of shared spirituality among the participating members. For example, the hungerstriking farmers requested spiritual reflection sessions at the height of their struggle.

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

One biblical phrase that caught their attention was that a person does not live "on
bread alone" (Matthew 4:4, The New American Bible). To this, one of the farmers responded, "We can continue going hungry
until we get justice." At the People's Power
rallies, street protesters celebrated masses
and prayed the rosary through their political vigils. In prayer sessions during critical
political times, Filipinos petitioned the resurrected Christ to be beside them in case
they got killed. Belief in the Resurrection
helped the protesters become more courageous as they faced the military tanks and
the possibility of death. In other new
democracies, there are many examples of
the blending of spirituality with structural
peacebuilding efforts: Cambodia's Walk-forPeace led by Buddhist monk Venerable
Maha Ghosananda (Mahoney, 1998; MoserPuangsuwan, & Maure, n.d.; Mydans, 1998
September); and Eastern Europe's Lutheran church-based candle-lit protests that
sparked the implosion of the Soviet Empire (Schoensee & Lederer, 1991). A spiritual orientation provides the psychological
strength needed to engage in nonviolent
structural transformation. Furthermore, when
a group triumphs in their structural peacebuilding efforts and obtains transformative
power, a spiritual disposition may likewise
help members remain detached from the
seductive attractions of personal ambition,
material extravagance, and post-conflict revenge.

Psychological Dimensions of Facing
the Militarized Enemy. Creating a social
force for restructuring requires that individuals act collectively and purposefully. When
a group produces social strain, individuals
in the system may react with direct violence.
It becomes a challenge to continue managing social strain in an active nonviolent way,
without either backing out or engaging in

Toward a Psychology of Structural Peacebuilding

direct counterviolence. Some social psychological features of collective active nonviolence
are a high level of psychological tolerance
for the enemy, knowledge of and insistence
on one's human rights, the buddy aT" partner
system (i.e., always being with one other person to deter abduction by military agents),
unquestioned obedience to the group's security marshals, and protective, not offensive collective behaviors in case of physical
violence (e.g., lying down and taking cover
instead of standing up or going against
water cannons, explosives, and tear gas; see
box on p. 292).
Collective nonviolence likewise requires
an attempt to win over the goodwill of the
militarized enemy. Examples of such behaviors are offering symbols of peace like flowers, candies, and cigarettes, to the front-line
police forces or tank personnel; or speaking
gently to the military to persuade them to
join the street protesters. The Philippine experience has shown that military forces are
less angry and fearful toward women and religious leaders. Therefore, individuals from
these subgroups were the most effective
rally frontliners in persuading the military
to receive flowers and other gifts of peace.
One reason why structural peacebuilding is a collective rather than an individualistic process is that different individuals are
needed at different points of the structural
peacebuilding process. Many protesters involved in structural disequilibration (e.g.,
during the bleak days of authoritarianism)
are too psychologically scarred with traumatic
memories. When it is time to build alternative
peaceful structures, they are unable to shed
their fears and anger which makes it difficult
for them to undertake structural change in a
forceful but nonviolent manner.
A personal incident showed me how past
fears may interfere with collective nonviolence. At a People's Power rally, I was a security marshal. I had previously instructed the

291
marchers under my care that in case of violent dispersal, they were to sit down rather
than run. During the rally, I saw my friend,
who was around 15 meters away from me,
being snatched by a plainclothes intelligence
agent. I screamed out my friend's name to
catch the attention of our fellow rallyists. Seeing the military snatch my friend triggered
fears associated with my past military-caused
traumas, so I automatically began to run away
from the intelligence agents. I failed to follow my own instructions not to run away in
case of violence. Luckily, when I began to
run, I was arm-locked with my rally buddy,
and he shouted at me "Don't run. Sit!" Mter
he said this, I realized that everyone else was
sitting on the pavement and I sat down, too.
Because we were seated, the agents did not
chase us (with their truncheons!), but instead engaged in peaceful negotiations with
our rally leaders. At this juncture both victims
and oppressors had stepped out of their
structural role scripts and began to relate
with each other in new ways.

Leadership. Often, structural peacebuilding leaders fuse contemporary asceticism
with practical political power. Their social
influence emanates not from their ability to
wield brute force, but from a capacity for selfsacrifice and kind acts effectively coupled
with pragmatic political tactics. As we begin
the twenty-first century, examples of worldrecognized peacebuilders are Cambodia's
Venerable Maha Gosanda, Burma's Aung
San Suu Kyi, South Africa's Nelson Mandela,
and the Philippines' Corazon Aquino.
If one were to look more closely at the
structural peacebuilding process, however,
one would realize that there is not a single
leader but many leaders who take on various responsibilities in the struggle for structural change. Leadership roles are not
centralized for pragmatic reasons. The collective spirit of a huge protest movement is

292

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

Reminders for Rally Participants'"
What to do when:
1. There are provocateurs:
a) There may be attempts to taunt rally participants so that there will be trouble. Provocateurs may infiltrate the ranks or may pose as bystanders who may taunt participants by shouting invectives, throwing stones, and using other physical methods to
instigate trouble.
b) Do not retaliate or do anything that may cause trouble. Maximum tolerance is the
rule. Notify marshals or line leaders if you see agitators or if anybody in the ranks
has reached the point of blowing up.
2. There is dispersal:
a) Wait for instructions from the marshals.
b) Do not break the ranks or leave your line or buddy. "Kapitbisig" (arm~ocking) can be
done to prevent the ranks from splitting up.
c) If there is need to withdraw, be sure you know where the rendezvous point is. Do not
move alone.
3. You are detained/picked up:
a) Make sure you are not alone. It is important that the buddy system is maintained.
b) Shout if you have to call the attention of others in the group.
c) Ask for the identification of the person detaining you.
d) Insist on your rights. You cannot be detained without charges.
e) Report cases of physical abuse by the police/government forces (secure a certification from a doctor regarding the extent of physical damage as soon as possible).
4. There is tear gas:
a) Cover mouth and nose with a wet handkerchief.
b) Crouch low to avoid inhaling the fumes.
c) Do not break the ranks, this will only create confusion and may open the ranks to infiltration or illegal detention. Follow instructions of the marshals.
5. Facing water cannons:
a) Follow instructions of the marshals and do not run away from the ranks.
b) Keep down. Do not stand up against the force of the water cannons.
6. An explosion takes place:
a) Lie down and take cover when an explosion takes place.
b) Do not run without your group. Await instructions from the marshals where to regroup.
c) Notify the medical team in case you see casualties.

*An Example of Practical Instructions for Collective and Peaceful Force-Excerpt from a Leaflet Handed
out during a People's Power Rally

Toward a Psychology of Structural Peacebuilding

more resilient when leadership is diffused
rather than resting on a single person.
Hence, even if some influential personalities are detained or killed, the process of
peace building tends to move onward. Furthermore, the psychological requirements
of self-sacrificial readiness constitute a choice
that cannot be imposed by centralized leadership. Self-sacrifice is a daily personal decision that is carried out in the context of a
small group.

SUMMARY
This chapter used two social narratives to illustrate the concept of structural peacebuilding as a process of transforming unjust social
systems into more peaceful structures. Structures work through social power which, in
tum, is implemented through human action.
Structural peace building involves stepping
out of structural roles, building social strain,
and creating forceful collective actions by
mobilizing and conscientizing large networks of people. Networking and mobilization transform external vertical structures
while conscientization (Freire, 1970) changes
the corresponding subjective verticality in
an individual's consciousness. The transformation of objective and subjective verticalities affect each other reciprocally and are
equally important in structural change. A
sense of spirituality, skillful confrontation of
the militarized enemy, and appropriate leadership styles help produce effective but nonviolent structural change. I will end this chapter with a look at what psychologists can
contribute to structural peacebuilding in the
twenty-first century.

TOWARD THE FUTURE
As humankind welcomes the twenty-first
century, populations are wracked with social
antagonisms related to inequalities between

293
conflicting groups. Amidst these conditions
of inequality, effective ways of structural
peace building will continue to evolve. In
the new century, psychology can make significant contributions through applied and
theoretical work related to the nature of
structural violence and the process of structural peacebuilding. Psychological advances
related to systemic violence in a variety of
countries include work on structural victimization (Lavik et al., 1994; Pilisuk, 1997;
Schwebel, 1997) and cultural inequalities
such as prejudice (Brown, 1995; Dovidio &
Gaertner, 1986; Ehrlich, 1973; Stephan et
al., 1994; Swim & Stangor, 1998), ethnocentrism (Brewer, 1986; Grant, 1992; Grant &
Brown, 1995; Greeson, 1991; Smith, 1992;
Triandis, 1990), stereotypes (Karim, 1997;
Stephan et aI., 1994) and group bias (BarTal, 1990; Karim, 1997; Mullen et aI., 1992).
The conceptual difficulty of psychology
vis-a-vis peacebuilding is in the understanding that the social system's configuration is
not only a cause of human behaviors and
mental processes but also an effect. Psychologists tend to focus on individuals' structural victimization, but not on the discovery
of social psychological processes involved in
changing social configurations. A paradigm
expansion is needed.
Beyond observing the psychological
ramifications of injustice and asking how
humans are victimized by inequalities, a
new question in the twenty-first century can
be this: What psychological factors are involved in equalizing power relationships in
a social structtlre? There are examples of
structural peace building in different parts
of the world, especially among the disadvantaged groups in violent strucrures. Peacebuilding narratives are evolving out of the
experiences of the oppressed groups in the
First World, in Third World societies, and in
new democracies. For example, the phenomenon of People'S Power demonstrates

294
how large groups can use peaceful but
forceful means to disequilibrate well-oiled
authoritarian political structures. Recent
People's Power experiences in Indonesia
(Kristof, 1998; Landler, 1998; Mydans, 1998
May, 1998 November), Philippines (Licuanan, 1987; Magno, 1986; Mercado, 1986),
and Eastern Europe (Schoensee & Lederer,
1991) show that it is possible to restructure
authoritarian rule in a forceful but bloodless manner.
Psychologists may also want to begin
looking at restructuring global inequities. In
the global context, structural peace is an international configuration of political and
economic equitability (Galtung, 1980b) .
Global structural peacebuilding refers to
human-based processes that distribute power
and wealth more equitably among the different nations and regions of the world.
Psychologists need not shy away from
the theoretical and practical challenges of

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

structural change. There are numerous psychology-related issues that can be explored.
To cite a few examples, there is little known
about the mental processes activated during
and after structural destabilization, psychological resources of peacebuilders while undergoing external and internal strain, cognitions and affects of participants engaged
in the production of nonviolent social
force, and building a collective culture of
forceful nonviolence.
Indeed, psychology holds a vital key to
structural peacebuilding, to the crafting of a
more forceful peace. But perhaps psychologists are looking in a different direction. We
search for peace through interpersonal harmony. We avoid social strain and remain insensitive to power inequities. And as long as
we pursue harmony and avoid strain, we
may remain disconnected from a majority
of the world populations that bear the yoke
of structural inequities.

CHAPTER 24

PSYCHOLOGIES FOR LIBERATION:
VIEWS FROM ELSEWHERE
Andy Dawes

In this chapter, I will introduce some ideas
that may not be familiar to those who have
learned about psychology in modern Western societies. I will begin with an examination of the ideology that underpins both
peace psychology and what I call "mainstream" psychology. Mainstream psychology is
a body of knowledge that claims its truth
value largely on the basis of its adherence to
the research tradition of modem empiricism,
the belief that sensory experience is the
only valid source of knowledge. In addition
to embracing empiricism, peace psychology
has liberal humanist values, which emphasize
democratic structures and individual freedom. At the core of both the philosophy of
empiricism and the value of liberal humanism is the concept of the autonomous individuaL I will demonstrate how coupling these
two systems of ideas, emphasizing individualism and freedom, can lead to a form of
ideological violence when peace psychologists
seek to address direct and structural violence in parts of the world. Ideological violence occurs when the ideas and practices
of a particular group are negated, and unfamiliar ideas and practices that are held to
be superior are introduced.
The second half of this chapter will
focus on liberation psychologies. Liberation

psychologies (there are several approaches)
developed independently of the peace psychology movement. They had their roots in
the responses of mental health workers to
freedom struggles in the politically repressive societies of Latin America, Mrica, and
the Pacific region. Working at both the individual and the larger group level, liberation
psychologists have sought to assist survivors
of structural and direct political violence.
More radically, their psychological work has
been linked to political activism that has social transformation as its goal. I will use the
South Mrican case as an example of one approach to liberation psychology that evolved
in response to the structural violence of
apartheid prior to the attainment of democracy in 1994.

PEACE PSYCHOLOGY,
PEACEBUILDING, AND IDEOLOGY
Peace psychologists in the post-Cold-War
period have begun to engage with a new
agenda of peacebuilding. Their work potentially entails a more radical orientation, because it addresses the structural roots of
episodic violence, and promotes social and
institutional change as the route to lasting
peace and social justice (Galtung, 1990;

295

296
Comas-Diaz, Lykes, & Alarcon, 1998; Mays,
Bullock, Rosenzweig, & Wessells, 1998).
Peacebuilding seeks to create a platform for
the establishment of social justice by moving
beyond interventions at the individual level
to structural interventions that improve life
conditions for all.
Some of the inspiration for peacebuilding initiatives is drawn from various declarations of rights by the United Nations
(U.N.). The argument is that the advancement of respect for basic rights can redress
many of the conditions that promote direct
and structural violence. These principles reflect core values of liberal humanism that
emerged in Europe in the period following
Rousseau's treatise on individual human
rights. These values include the promotion
of social justice founded on the principle of
equality for all, a respect for individual selfdetermination (freedom of choice) and the
protection of individual rights (Collins,
1992; Hayek, 1975). A central focus is on
the individuaL
In contrast, as Lykes points out in Chapter 14, many societies see the rights of the
individual as subordinate to those of the
community. For example, strict Hindu societies do not have the same views as North
Americans on the natural rights of individual liberty and choice (Shweder, Mahapatra,
& Miller, 1990). The life choices of the individual are circumscribed according to their
gender and caste position. For example, a
lower-caste person may not choose to marry
a high-caste person. In such a case, the matter of individual freedoms does not even
arise as a consideration. The choices of
those involved are ignored in the interest of
adhering to the natural law that informs
caste practices. The Hindu system is seen as
just because it is thought to be determined
by natural law, driven as it were by an innate
morality rather than civil law.

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

Another ideological element of peace
psychology is the emphasis placed on political rights. In some communities that lack
many basic resources such as adequate nutrition, one may argue that the satisfaction
of these basic needs is a greater priority
than civil liberties, which are political rights
espoused in the West. These differences
raise many challenges for peace psychologists informed and influenced by the political rights consciousness of the West.
A third ideological element intrinsic to
peace psychology is the acceptance of the
modem Western image of individuality,
which underpins mainstream psychology, itself a product of the Enlightenment (Ingleby, 1995). The central point is that this
individual is presented by psychology as natural and univma~ and as revealed by a particular way of conducting scientific inquiry. In
contrast, critics such as Ingleby maintain
that this person (and her supposed psychological mechanisms) is not universally representative. Rather, the psychology we have
produced is mainly a description of the individual in a particular historical context,
which is gready influenced by the tenets of
capitalism with its emphasis on individual
freedom. This person has been created
rather than revealed, and has been misrepresented as universal. The argument is that as
psychologists, we are embedded in, rather
than have, an existence independent of this
ideological universe, so our subject matter
and practice will reflect our ideology.
One version of psychology's image of
the individual is evident in the work of theorists such as Carl Rogers (1973) and Abraham Maslow (1968). They present their personality theories as universally applicable.
However an analysis of their constructs reveals that they have developed theories of
the personality that are quite culture-bound.
For example, they both stress the impor-

Psychologies for Uberation: Views from Elsewhere

tance of the autonomy of the self for psychological health, and Maslow in particular
sees self-actualization as an important drive
and goal. The idea of the actualizing self
embraces many of the values of modem
Western societies including the idea of the
psychologically autonomous individual, who
can make her own informed decisions in
life relatively unfettered by the demands of
family and community (Jacoby, 1975).
Many communities do not share this
view (Dawes & Cairns, 1998; Lykes, 1994).
Some do not have a concept of the "the
self' at least in the sense that Rogers uses
the term. Instead, individual identity is seen
as co-extensive with the natural environment, kin, and deceased ancestors (Honwana, 1997). Because of their more sociocentric, rather than individually-centered,
orientation, they also have a different view
of individual rights. Rights are seen as properties of social positions associated with ancestry, gender, and age. These structural
arrangements are supported by cultural narratives that express shared beliefs that are
very different from the Western narratives
where individual freedoms and rights ate
regarded as natural, no matter what social
position the individual occupies. Conditions
that peace psychologists would see as structurally violent are regarded in these communities as "normal" social arrangements.
For example, in many Mrican communities, male elders have traditionally held
considerable power over their communities.
The chief allocates land to the people, the
senior men adjudicate in disputes between
individuals, and the rights of women are
curtailed under patriarchal control. In
South Mrica, until 1998, women in Mrican
customary marriages (those which took
place according to African custom and not
through the civil courts) were regarded as
the property of the husband and his family.

297
In essence an adult woman had the status of
a minor child (Bennett, 1991). If she did not
live up to the expectations of her husband
and his parents, she could be sent home to
her family with no compensation or rights.
Here the rights of the individual woman are
clearly compromised by rules that confer
fundamentally unequal power to men and
women. While these patterns are changing
with the globalization of rights conventions,
at the community level they are often stilI regarded as normal and proper-particularly
by the men whose interests they serve. A serious problem that arises under such conditions, is that when women are regarded as
subordinate chattels, they frequently become
victims of abuse, particularly under conditions of severe poverty and political oppression (Campbell, 1995).
Constructsofselfhood,values, andjustice therefore vary across the world, and
they do not always match those that underpin the activities of Western peace psychologists. If we impose Western approaches of
psychological functioning and treatment on
communities that have different ideologies
of selfhood and rights, we commit ideological violence. There are many ways in which
this can occur. For example, in Mrican war
zones it has been common for Western psychologists to train local health workers in
trauma work. There is sometimes little reflection by Western psychologists on the cultural relevance of the methods and concepts they are exporting. The very fact that
the trainers are deployed to give skills to
local workers rests on the assumption that
the latter need to be skilled because their
indigenous knowledge of trauma work is inadequate. Also, trainers have considerable
power in providing jobs for local health
workers in areas where the aftermath of war
ensures that little work exists. If they are
sensible, the trainees will be inclined to

298
suppress their indigenous knowledge in
favor of demonstrating their newly acquired
skills (Dawes & Honwana, 1998). From this
example, it is evident that nothing is directly forced upon the community. Rather a
new set of ideas, which mayor may not fit
well with existing cosmologies, is introduced through the greater power of the psychologist to shape the discourse of distress
and healing. Where the fit is not good,
there is the risk that health workers' responses to trauma will not meet local needs
(Dawes & Cairns, 1998).
Another example drawn from the work
of Reynolds (1997) in Zimbabwe, touches
more on issues of rights. Reynolds tells the
story of the Zimbabwian inyanga (healer)
who decided that an adolescent girl should
be given in marriage to a father in compensation for the loss of his son during the liberation war. A member of the girl's family
had been broken under torture, revealing
the whereabouts of freedom fighters to the
anny. This led to the son's death and
caused great tension in the village. The inyanga decided that hannony would be restored by the marriage, as the girl would
bear sons to continue the line. Clearly from
a Western perspective, the girl's individual
rights were violated.
These examples raise complex issues,
and easy answers are not readily available.
While embracing the values of peace psychology, I have to be aware that my committnent to these values is a function of my
position as someone socialized in the ideological climate of the modem Western
world. There are other possible social systems in which the individual has a different
place for reasons that are understandable. It
is therefore necessary to negotiate with the
groups with whom we work, and this may
mean suspending, or even altering, some of
the constructs which nonnally infonn our
activities. This is why many in this field rec-

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

ognize the importance of c(H;onstructing
change with, rather than for, communities
(Martin-Bar6, 1989; Comas-Diaz, et al., 1998;
Gilbert, 1997). Such a position does not
imply capitulation to conditions of structural violence out of respect for local ways.
Indeed direct confrontation may be appropriate as the examples of South Mrica and
Latin America illustrate. However, the coconstruction of change does recognize the
importance and role of different ideologies
and psychologies as they influence social
arrangements and individual functioning.
Apart from being disrespectful, to ignore
these differences is to reduce the possible
success of one's intervention.

PEACEBUILDING AS LIBERATION
PSYCHOLOGY: THE SOUTH
AFRICAN CASE
As has been stressed throughout this volume, peace psychology seeks to develop theories and practices that elucidate the
processes involved in the prevention and
mitigation of direct and structural violence.
Liberation psychology, as a form of peace
psychology, may be construed as an approach that seeks to use psychological
knowledge and practice to bring about
change in structurally violent societies, and
to address the psychological needs of oppressed individuals. Liberation psychology
is overtly political, has a clear social emancipation agenda, and works in the interests of
the politically and economically oppressed.
The interests of the oppressed may vary but
would commonly include a desire for political freedom, democracy and economic justice. Liberation is also used to refer to the
psychological freeing of individuals from
the negative conceptions of self and community that are common psychological correlates of oppression. An example is the
negative own-group identification experi-

Psychologies for Liberation: Views from Elsewhere

enced by blacks in racist societies (Foster,
1994). Psychological liberation also involves
freeing the oppressor from the psychological orientations toward those who he or she
oppresses, or preventing the development
of such orientations. Prejudice reduction
and anti-racist education initiatives would
be examples (Eyber, Dyer, Versfeld, Dawes,
Finchilescu, & Soudien, 1997).
My particular consideration of liberation psychology will draw on the South
Mrican situation. I will begin with a brief
consideration of structural violence on the
Mrican continent Some of these conditions
gave rise to the first anti-colonial liberation psychology developed by Frantz Fanon
(1967a, 1967b). His work influenced Latin
American liberation psychologists (see Lykes
in this volume), as well as those in apartheid
South Mrica.

Some History
According to leading Africanists such as
Davidson (1992) and Mamdani (1996), the
political, ideological, and local cultural
forces operating before and during the
colonial period have played a m~or role in
the production of structural and direct violence in modem Mrica. Space restricts me
to a few points, and I will draw principally
on the work of these authors.
To untangle one of the roots of ethnic
and political conflict, we need to go back to
the slave trade. The practice not only caused
immeasurable suffering, but played a role in
shaping ethnic relations that remain apparent today. Davidson (1992) observes that responses by Africans to slavery included the
development of kin-based participation in
the trade as a form of resistance to capture.
Communities linked by language, clan, and
kin connections would group together to
form units that would participate in the subjugation of less powerful groups, who would

299

then be captured and sold mto slavery. In
this way, some could resist being captured.
With the advent of colonization, existing territorial boundaries of indigenous groups
were ignored as states were created and new
boundaries cut across ethno-linguistic communities. On many occasions, groups with a
history of hostility were thrust together, or
political arrangements during colonialism
caused intergroup friction.
It was common for local cultural structures to be used by the colonial administrations to extend their control over the native
people. Subnational ethnic identities and
boundaries were further strengthened as a
result. For example, the authorities would
appoint chiefs to administer the local populace on their behalf. This was often to the
advantage of these men (it was always men),
who could entrench their power. Indigenous groups were therefore not entirely passive in these processes, with more powerful
members benefiting as far as possible from
their position as puppets of the colonial
state, or in the case of South Mrica, the white
government.
Mter independence, arrangements
such as these sometimes led to border disputes, as in the case of Eritrea and Ethiopia,
or attempts at secession in the cases of Eritrea and Biafra (in southern Nigeria). In
part, these conflicts were attempts to establish political autonomy based on ethno-linguistic commonality.
Additional threats to stability in African
states include underdevelopment, desperate
poverty, huge disparities in wealth, corruption, and foreign debt. In recent years,
structural adjustment policies of the World
Bank and the International Monetary Fund
aimed at cutting government spending in
return for trade and aid, have been associated with reductions in social services, a decline in health and literacy levels, and renewed political tensions (George, 1992).

300

Some Psychological Considerations
Intergroup Relations and Ethnicity.
A common way for ordinary people involved in intergroup conflict to explain
their situation is to construct the narrative
in terms of ethnic identities. For them, ethnic division is experienced as real. Psychological aspects of ethnic identity construction are therefore important factors to
consider when explaining the generation of
conflict. Ethnic identity is a form of social
identity. Once groups are formed, comparisons between people who are assigned to
them become possible (Hogg & Abrams,
1988). Social identities clarify group boundaries, and normally involve groups being accorded differential status, which in tum
makes it easier for the persecution of lower
status ethnic groups to be justified. Ethnic
groups typically share a sense of common
cultural identity, symbols, language, and a
narrative of origins (Thornton, 1988). Their
collective ethnic memories usually contain
images of heroism and violence, as well as
the historic relations between one's own
and other groups (Cairns & Darby, 1998;
Mare, 1992). Ethnic identities also can be
used as a basis for both structural and direct
violence.
South Mrica's apartheid system is an exemplary case of structural violence. The architects of the system both constructed and
drew on existing ethnicities and used them
for purposes of White political and economic domination. Race classification underpinned all practices. For example, impoverishment of those not classified as
Whites was achieved by reserving 86 percent
of the land for Whites and limiting educational and job opportunities for Blacks. Systematic efforts were made to construct and
entrench ethnic histories and practices, so
as to justify racial separation. These were
sometimes taken up and used for personal

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice
power and ethnic mobilization by ethnic
chiefs appointed to oversee the Black population. The legacy of this project is evident
in the Kwazulu-Natal region of South Mrica,
where Zulu traditionalist sentiment contin'ues to be used to support violent acts
against those who reject tribal authority
(Mare, 1992).

Individual Subjectivity and Its Libel'ation. Frantz Fanon, a black psychiatrist
who worked in Algeria, was the first African
mental health worker to articulate a psychology of liberation which could inform
revolutionary action against the structural
violence of the French colonists (Fanon,
1967a; 1967b; 1968). Fanon's work is extensive and space precludes elaboration beyond a few central points.
.
He argued that individual psycholOgIcal
health was inseparable from political liberty,
and that under conditions of structural violence, a situation of national psychological
distress was present. For Fanon, the structural violence of colonization (and one could
add apartheid), produces a Manichean psychological state, which is characterized by
the defense mechanism of splitting. Internal
psychological constructions of people and
social groups are separated into distinct ca~e­
gories of good and bad. One of th~ k~ VIOlences of colonization was the colomzatlon of
subjectivity, whereby the native takes on the
subjectivity and values of the colonizer, and
rejects his or her own heritage (and color).
Splitting ensures that the worldview and cultural goods of the colonizer are viewed as
positive, while those of the native are considered to be negative and to be denied.
To achieve both individual and national
liberation, Fanon held that the colonized
person had to challenge the .colonizer b~th
internally and externally. First the natlve
had to purge her or his psychology of the
destructive elements of mental coloniza-

Psychologies for Liberation: Views from Elsewhere
tion, and regain self-respect through the reversal of the internalized negative view of
self and culture (see also Comas-Diaz et al.,
1998). This theme was also taken up within
the liberation strategy of the Black Consciousness Movement (BCM) among Mrican Americans (Burlew, et al., 1992), South African
Blacks (Biko, 1978), and in Latin America.
Fanon (and the other liberation psychologies to which I have referred), rejected psychotherapy as the route to restoring positive
Black identity. There were several reasons,
not the least of which was its elite connections, its unavailability to the masses, and its
unlikely role in promoting revolution.
The second leg of Fanon's argument
was his belief that the oppressed would be
psychologically freed by confronting the
colonizer with violence. This was because he
argued that the latter relied on violence to
rule, and did not understand reasoned arguments for liberation. In this regard, Bulhan remarks that:
"Experience (as a liberation fighter) led
him to reformulate the problem and the
solution ... The oppressed who were dehumanized by the violence of the oppresor.
[They could] regain their identity, reclaim
their history, reconstitute their bonding,
and forge their future through violence.
Through violence they remove the primary
barrier to their humanity and they rehabilitate themselves." (Bulhan, 1985, p. 144).
This argument has been highly controversial. For example, Couve (1986), agrees
with much of Fanon's position, but faults
him on theoretical (psychoanalytic) grounds
for his conclusion that a violent catharsis on
the part of the colonized against the oppressor will be psychologically healing. Freud rejected the role of emotional catharsis as a
key source of psychological recovery, which
Fanon did not seem to recognize. Couve
also mounts a materialist (Marxist) critique
of Fanon for his overemphasis on a White

301
master-Black subject dialectic as explaining
oppressed subjectivity, and his neglect of
the role of class forces in the production of
the social arrangements that underpin the
shape of racial ideologies and individual
psychology. Oppression is therefore not as
color-coded as Fanon's psychological and
classless analysis would have it Nor is violent conduct therapeutic. Indeed, the recent
continuing political repression and violence
in Algeria (where Fanon worked) would
suggest that the violent catharsis of the revolution did not lay to rest the hatred that had
been bred under colonialism. Fanon's most
lasting and useful contribution, which has
made its mark in Latin America, South
Africa, and the United States, is probably
his writing on Black or indigenous identity,
and the role of political resistance in its
reclamation.

LIBERATION PSYCHOLOGY AND
THE DISMANTLING OF APARTHEID
South Africa emerged from colonialism at
the beginning of the twentieth century but
it was not until 1994 that the country
threw off the shackles of four centuries of
White minority rule. This section of the
chapter will oudine the response of liberation psychologists in South Mrica to the
structural violence of their society. Sporadic and individual attempts to address the
psychological impact of apartheid have
taken place since the late 1940s. The work
of MacCrone (1947) on attitudes, Manganyi
(1973) on Black subjectivity, and Lambley (1980) on links between authoritarian
personality structure and support for
apartheid policy, are some examples.
More collective and sustained efforts
commenced in the early 1980s, and
continued until the demise of apartheid in
1994. My commentary will reflect struggles
with the issue of ethnicity, and ethical

302
neutrality during what amounted to a lowlevel civil war. The full history of this time
has not been told, but several commentaries
exist (Flisher et al., 1993; Louw & van
Hoorn, 1997; Louw,1987; Cooper, Nicholas,
Seedat, & Statman, 1990; Nicholas 1990; Seedat, 1997; Swartz, Gibson, & Swartz, 1990).
South African psychologists who identified with the need to liberate their country
from racial oppression, drew on a variety of
strategies common to peace psychology (see
Wessells, Schwebel, and Anderson, in this
volume). Theory and research were used to
both understand and address conflict, as
well as to attend to the needs of those who
had suffered the consequences of oppression. In addition, a cornerstone of the work
that often is not associated with peace psychology was the attempt to use psychological knowledge to inform political action
(see Montiel's chapter in this volume). In
the following sections, I outline how professional organizations, research programs,
and direct interventions contributed to the
reduction of structural violence during the
apartheid era.
Prior to 1994, organized South Mrican
psychology was itself affected by the divisiveness of the political life of the country. Psychology was split into a majority conservative and a small progressive sector that was
actively opposed to the apartheid regime.
The conservative Psychological Association
of South Mrica never took a position on social transformation (Cooper, Nicholas, Seedat, & Statman, 1990). Rather, as Cooper
and his colleagues note, organized psychology and its members were active in both the
design of the apartheid system and in its
later maintenance. Because the Association
declared itself politically neutral, military officers and members of a police force were
members.
In contrast, the small progressive sector
(perhaps 15 percent of professional psycho-

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

logists) was split along political/ideological
lines; some psychologists aligned with the
South African Black Consciousness Movement (BCM) and responded to apartheid as
a Black group reclaiming its identity. A key
feature of their position was the recognition
that Black psychologists needed to develop
solidarity and a positive identity free from
the limiting gaze of Whites who dominated
the profession (Seedat, 1997). The link to
the ideas of Fanon and South African Black
Consciousness leader Steve Biko was evident
here. A second faction of the progressive
movement was known as the Organization for

Appropriate Social Services in South Africa
(OASSSA) , which served to unite antiapartheid mental health workers across professions and the color line. These mental
health workers used their professional skills
to challenge the regime. Both these factions
can be termed liberation psychologies. Like
Martin-Baro in Latin America, both factions
argued that the apartheid structure and the
direct violence that kept it in place were
damaging to the well-being of South Mricans. It was therefore necessary to engage
the mental health disciplines to fight for
change and publicly take a political stand
against the State.
Sections from the OASSSA Statement of
Principles, formulated in 1983, are worth
quoting (see italics below) as they illustrate
several central features of a liberation psychology, similar to those developed in Latin
America by Comas-Diaz et al. (1998):
We are aware that in South Africa there are
specific economic and political structures which

contribute to most social and personal problems.
Apartheid and economic exploitation provide the base for poor living conditions,
work alienation, and race and sex discrimination which are antithetical to mental
health. Our commitment as social service workers

demands that we continually expose the effects of
these conditions and participate in efforts to

303

Psychologies for Liberation: Views from Elsewhere
change the structures that underlie them. In
order to properly serve our community, we
must work flff the sharing of knowledge and skills
with the community at large and, ultimately, flff
an economically just and democratic society.

apartheid. The class argument was the subject of extensive debate in progressive mental health circles (Swartz & Foster, 1984).

Research
Unlike the Latin American progressive
psychologists described by Comas-Diaz et al.
(1998), the South Africans did not emphasize the role of cultural factors in responses
to stress and healing under political repression. Instead, the policy of liberation movements in South Mrica emphasized national
unity so as to bind all South Mricans to the
struggle for a non-racial state, regardless of
their ethnic identity. Progressive psychologists supported this position and used social
identity theory (SIT) to inform their views
of the situation (Hogg & Abrams, 1988).
SIT and related research shows that if ethnic group identities are made highly salient
and if groups are compared unfavorably
with one another, the likelihood of intergroup conflict increases. Also, the simple
practice of focusing on national sub-group
identities, makes it more difficult for people
to imagine themselves as part of one nation;
hence, the emphasis on national identity.
Progressive psychologists were also influenced by prevailing socialist discourse
which stressed the superiority of materialist
(class) analyses over race relations theories
in explaining the South Mrican situation
(Wolpe, 1988). The materialist argument was
that apartheid policy had little to do with
race relations but was based on a white capitalist strategy to control economic power.
To achieve this aim, whites had to control
the land, the natural resources, and the
economy, which they succeeded in doing.
Progressives therefore down played the role
of culture because they had problems with
its adequacy as an explanation of apartheid
policy, and because they did not wish to reinforce the divisions and cultural racism of

While not conducted under the auspices of
a progressive movement, the work of Foster,
Davis, and Sandler (1987) on political imprisonment and torture, stands as exemplary research in the interests ofjustice. The
work was conducted at a time when psychologists were being asked to give expert testimony in the courts on the admissibility of
confessions made by captured members of
anti-apartheid movements. Commonly these
people were tortured and held in solitary
confinement for long periods with no access
to anyone other than their captors. The defendants claimed that their confessions
were made under duress and were false.
This defense was repeatedly rebutted by the
State, on the grounds that there was no
independent evidence of the allegations
against the state (Foster et aI., 1987).
Foster and his colleagues inteIViewed
several hundred ex-detainees and obtained
self-reports about their treatment in prison.
If common findings of maltreatment and
negative psychological sequellae were found,
this evidence could be used to challenge the
admissibility of confessions made under
such conditions. In addition, the authors
wished to draw public attention to the psychological harm caused by torture and solitary confinement, if the results supported
such a conclusion. The study found overwhelming evidence of systematic and brutal
maltreatment. When the study was released
to the public, Foster was attacked by the government and right-wing social scientists. He
also suffered attacks on his home by persons
unknown-probably state hit squads.
The so-called "torture report" led to an
increase in awareness among those mem-

304
bers of the White public who were prepared
to listen. The report also raised international pressure against South Mrica. However, it had no significant impact on the
legal process, because no court accepted
the psychological claim that the South
Mrican version of solitary confinement was
harmful. Also, the law continued to require
the defendant to demonstrate ill-treatment,
an impossible task when there were no witnesses to the events other than the security
police. Nonetheless, Foster's work constitutes an example of thorough psychological
research being put to work in an attempt to
improve the delivery of justice, and also to
challenge politically repressive practice.
Other projects, research findings, and
clinical knowledge about the effects of police harassment, torture and imprisonment
were published in popular form as pamphlets and handbooks written in local languages. The literature was disseminated free
among communities affected by repression.
One example was a self-help booklet on
symptoms of stress and how to cope with
them. Readers were informed in simple language about what symptoms to expect following torture and imprisonment so as to
render their reactions less disturbing. They
and their families were also given suggestions on techniques that could be employed
to relieve distress, and who to contact for
more assistance.

Direct Intervention. Direct intervention took the form of clinical consultations
with individuals, families, and groups (Dawes
& de Villiers, 1989; Dawes, 1992). Lay community members were also trained to offer
basic supportive services under supervision
(Swartz, Dowdall & Swartz, 1986). In the last
case, interventions were similar to those described by Metreaux (1992) and Langer
(1989) in Nicaragua, where professionals
"multiplied" the effects of psychological in-

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

terventions by training local lay therapists
appointed by the community. Although the
South Mricans knew nothing of the Central
American work until later, the two initiatives
were driven by a wish to develop "appropriate" services for the politically oppressed
and the poor (Flisher, Skinner, Lazarus, &
Louw, 1993).
As in the work of the Latin Americans,
progressive and "appropriate" services in
South Mrica often challenged many accepted clinical practices, such as ethical
neutrality. For example, .members of the
South Mrican security forces were deliberately excluded from services. As I have discussed elsewhere (Dawes, 1992), there were
two main reasons for this decision. The
political reason was that we decided that offering services to the security forces would
be tantamount to assisting "the enemy,"
thereby compromising the campaign to end
the structural violence of apartheid. The
practical reason was that in order to win
the trust of people who had suffered at the
hands of the security forces, and lived in
fear of informers, clinicians had to make
their opposition to the government clear.
Therapists were sometimes asked to disclose
their own political ideology, and if this
served to facilitate the process of therapeutic engagement, then some therapists did
so. But even disclosure was often not
enough. Also necessary was being known in
resistance circles as a member of a progressive organization and an activist against repression. The political and the psychological were thus quite closely interwoven, with
members of progressive mental health
groups defying bans on public gatherings,
and speaking at rallies about the psychological effects of apartheid and repression.
While many interventions took place in
clinics, others took place outside in informal settings. Dawes and de Villiers (1989),
for example, report how they met to work

Psychologies for Liberation: Views from Elsewhere
with families and their teenage children
(who had been sentenced to prison for public violence) in their homes, or in a supposedly safe room at the back of a cinema.
Eventually, when the children went into
prison, their therapists accompanied them
and community members to the prison
gates before all were chased away by the riot
police.

CONCLUSIONS
The practices that developed during the
South Mrican liberation struggle raise many
questions, not least, the ethical decision to
work only for those involved in the liberation struggle. In our view at the time, the
fundamental feature of the structural violence of South Africa was the absence of
democracy for the majority of the people.
The system within which they had to live was
unjust and compromised their mental
health. For these reasons, OASSSA mental
health workers and those within the grouping of Black psychologists, aligned themselves with efforts to remove apartheid. As
far as I can determine, no organized group
of progressive psychologists ever took a public stance on the issue of violence against
oppressors. That matter was left to individual conscience. However, as has been the
case in other repressive contexts, such as
the Philippines (Montiel, 1995), it was common to offer psychological assistance to
people who had committed violence as part
of the political struggle. In the case of South
Mrica, socialist language as well as materialist analysis was present in the rhetoric of the
time (e.g. Couve, 1986; Dawes, 1986).
Therefore, South African liberation psychology is probably best described as a
broad anti-apartheid initiative with socialist
leanings. An examination of documents
such as the OASSSA Statement of Principles, indicates that there was a strong con-

305
viction that future economic policy should
spread the wealth of the nation more evenly
to reduce poverty, support public health,
enhance welfare services, and increase the
life chances of all.
While democracy has been achieved in
South Africa, the goals of a redistribution of
wealth and socialized public services have
not. At the end of the 1990s, as is the case in
the rest of Africa, the vast majority of South
Africans remain impoverished. Tight macroeconomic policies, which have led to limits
on social spending, and South Africa's vulnerable economic position relative to the
major industrial powers and currencies, are
likely to ensure that poverty will remain a
significant force for instability and episodic
violence in the twenty-first century.
Political conflict between ethnic groups
is not as marked in South Africa as elsewhere on the continent, where political parties and contesting groups have commonly
had an ethnic base (e.g. Nigeria, Zimbabwe,
and Angola). A major reason for the lack of
such conflict is probably the unifying approach of the largest and currently ruling
party, the African National Congress (AL~C).
The ANC has never had a local ethnic base,
and has a long established policy of stressing national unity in a context of cultural diversity. The party always mobilized around
the common experience of Black political
and economic oppression. Also, as du Preez
(1997) argues, under apartheid it was not
the practice to play one African ethnic
group off against the other as was the case
in Rwanda and elsewhere. However. people
of mixed racial descent and Asians did hold
more political and economic rights than
members of Mrican ethnic groups. In the
post-apartheid situation, tensions between
these groups and other Black South Mricans are becoming evident (Finchilescu &
Dawes, 1998). Racism is commonly accelerated under conditions of structural

306
inequality, and because these conditions
continue to prevail, racism will remain a
m.yor threat to peace.
Direct violence is perhaps the most
prominent feature of the psychological
legacy of apartheid, one of the most oppressive political designs of modem times. As I
have noted, Fanon spoke of the Manichean
psychologies of the colonies (and apartheid), that emphasized differences between
rulers and indigenous groups. A further
central component of apartheid ideology
was the dehumanization of those deemed to
be inferior. Apartheid made a banal art of
the construction of differences between
groups. Initially supposed racial characteristics and later cultural markers, were used
to emphasize inferiority and difference
(Nicholas, 1993). The dehumanization that
fonned part of this process legitimized the
use of structural and direct violence in the
pursuit of power, and "peace" (i.e. racial
harmony through separation) [Foster, 1998;
Truth and Reconciliation Commission
(TRC),1998].
South Mrica is awash with weapons, another legacy of the liberation struggle and
regional wars that were sponsored by the
apartheid regime (South African Institute of
Race Relations, 1997). There is much talk of
South Mrica enduring a "culture of violence" in which violent responses to conflict
have become normalized (Dawes, 1994). As
much as it is present in the streets, gender
oppression rooted in cultural practices of
male hegemony in both Black and White
communities ensures that violence is also
present in the home. Poverty conditions and
alcohol abuse contribute further to domestic violence, as unemployed men strike out
against women in reaction to the loss of
their status as patriarchs (Campbell, 1995).
It is now necessary to shape a postapartheid psychology designed to liberate

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

South Africans and meet these difficult challenges. That work has begun, and embraces
elements of the progressive program of the
1980s. Among other projects, research is
being conducted to address the impact of
poverty and violence (Barbarin, Richter, de
Wet, & Wachtel, 1998); the position of
women (de la Rey & Owens, 1998; Finchilescu, 1995); mental health service transformation (Foster et al., 1997); culturallyappropriate forms of intervention (Dawes &
Cairns, 1998); and the promotion of intergroup tolerance (Eyber et al., 1997). Psychologists have also been active in the processes
of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which was designed to uncover past
abuses of human rights, and consider reparations for victims (de 1a Rey & Owens, 1998;
also see de la Rey in this volume).
For an effective and committed liberation psychology to emerge in democratic
South Africa, psychologists will have to highlight the impact of economic structural adjustment on individual lives. Psychological
research on the impact of poverty will need
to continue to be brought to the attention
of policy makers, in support of the concerns
of those who have few opportunities to give
voice to their difficulties. They will also have
to confront the powerful with the risks their
economic policies pose to the consolidation
of a hard won democracy. As one individual
commented recently at a forum on poverty:
"We now have a Rainbow Nation (Nelson
Mandela's term for multi-cultural South
Mrica) , but you can't eat Rainbows!" In
order for the people of Mrica to be able to
enjoy all that their rainbow nations have to
offer, peace psychologists will need to become involved in promoting a social justice
morality at local and international levels.
For the peace of the poor nations of the
world is intricately and structurally bound
to the wealth of the rich.

CHAPTER 25

GANDHI AS PEACEBUILDER:
THE SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY
OF SATYAGRAHA
Daniel M. Mayton II

On a cold night over a hundred years ago in
Maritzburg, South Africa, Mohandas K
Gandhi was thrown off a train when he refused to move from his first-class seat
Gandhi's presence in that seat offended a
white passenger because it was not appropriate for a "coloured person" to travel first
class. This discrimination was a defining
moment in Gandhi's life as it led him to develop the resolve needed to remove the injustice of color prejudice that was pervasive
in South Africa at that time (Gandhi,
1957/1927).
Over the next five decades Gandhi became a peacebuilder. He developed and
tested methods that produced political
change and reduced social injustices.
Gandhi's teachings and actions had a profound effect on those around him, his coun-

try, and, in many respects, the world. In this
chapter, I will outline the philosophy of
Gandhi and the actions he used and advocated to establish social justice. Following
this, I will outline the psychological dynamics that contributed to making his peacebuilding efforts effective.

THE GOAL AND PRINCIPLES
GUIDING GANDHI'S ACTIONS
Gandhi's overarching goal throughout his
life was saroodaya which translates to "the
welfare of all" (Bose, 1987, p. 23) or "uplift
of all" (Bondurant, 1965, p. 6). To achieve
this goal, three main principles guided his
writings and actions. The Indian terms describing these principles are satya (truth),
ahimsa (nonviolence), and tapasya (self-

307

308
suffering) (Bondurant, 1965; Gandhi, 1951;
Pelton, 1974).

Satya or Truth
Satyagraha, as discussed and used by
Gandhi, can be understood on at least two
levels. First, it refers to the process of developing an understanding of any situation
and the points of view of all individuals who
are involved with it. Satyagraha, which can
be translated to mean "Soul Force," serves
in this regard as a process to vindicate the
truth. In trying to understand the validity of
each viewpoint, Gandhi was well aware of
his limitations and those of any human
being trying to establish absolute truth.
Given these limitations, he believed we can
never be sure if we, as one side of a conflict,
are correct in our position or if our adversaries, on the other side of a conflict, have
truth on their side. Therefore, while Gandhi
viewed the pursuit of truth as an ongoing aspect of life which was never fully achievable
in a complete sense, satyagraha was an important orientation to maintain on an individual level.
The second interpretation for the term
satyagraha is as a positive peacebuilding
strategy on a larger societal level; here,
satyagraha is a process of civil disobedience
or nonviolent resistance. It is satyagraha in
this second sense which helped India attain
independence from Great Britain and which
had a profound impact on other peacebuilders such as Martin Luther King, Jr.
Later in this chapter, I will describe the
characteristics of a satyagraha movement
from this perspective, and then I will provide a concrete example, the Salt Satyagraha campaign of 1930 to 1931. However,
to fully understand the satyagraha method,
a close look at two other principles in
Gandhi's philosophy is essential.

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

Ahimsa or Nonviolence
An integral part of Gandhi's philosophy and
life's work is the notion of ahimsa, which literally means "non-injury" or "nonviolence."
For Gandhi, ahimsa was the belief in the sacredness of life and the refusal to do harm
to living things (Bose, 1987; Nakhre, 1982),
an interpretation that was based on the
deep-rooted Hindu tradition of not doing
harm.
Ahimsawas vital to Gandhi's peacebuilding efforts for several reasons. First, ahimsa
means not harming others either in thought
or deed. Second, Gandhi viewed ahimsa as
also having a more dynamic and positive
state which is love (Gandhi, 1951). Pelton
(1974) describes this love as active goodwill
and it also bears similarity to the Rogerian
concept of unconditional positive regard.
This love serves as the means to get to the
ends of truth. Third, a means which uses
nonviolence to reveal truth has advantages
to Gandhi because only relative truth can be
attained for certain. Given this human limitation, the nonviolent means to realize
one's goal guarantees that individuals will
not hurt any adversary in a conflict who
might be closer to the absolute truth than
they themselves are. Excluding the use of violence is best, because humans are not capable of knowing the absolute truth and
therefore are not competent to punish
(Nakhre, 1982).
Throughout his life, Gandhi insisted
that the means to get to any goal must be
carefully selected or the attainment of the
goal might be short-lived or ultimately subverted. For instance, he wanted to obtain
India's independence using nonviolent
means while others advocated violent rebellion. Gandhi believed the leaders who
would emerge if India followed the violent
path to independence would be just as
tyrannical as the British leadership which

Gandhi as Peace builder: The Social Psychology of Satyagraha

they would replace. Therefore, the end result of independence would have very little
impact on the common citizen of India and
would not be as desirable as the leadership
which would emerge if the principle of
ahimsa was followed in the struggle for independence.

Tapasya or Self-Suffering
Tapasya translates to "self-suffering" and is
the third major principle in Gandhi's belief
system. Gandhi viewed self-suffering as a viable maneuver to confront the violence that
is often leveled at those who work to remove
social injustices. The willingness to endure
suffering instead of retaliating for a violent
act with a violent act breaks the cycle of violence. While those fighting social injustices
might suffer more than those who work to
maintain the status quo, Gandhi believed
that in the long run the world as a whole
will witness less total violence.
The ability to engage in self-suffering
requires considerable courage and self-control. In fact, Gandhi describes the self-discipline required of someone who follows his
principles as being akin to those of a military soldier. Like soldiers, individuals who
practice tapasya require extensive training
to establish the needed discipline when violence is leveled at them.
Gandhi's Value System
Human values are transsituational goals
which vary in importance and serve as guiding principles in people's lives (Schwartz,
1992, 1994). An analysis of the value system
of an individual can help explain the actions of an individual in a range of social
and political situations (Rokeach, 1973,
1979). Schwartz (1994) has identified ten
value types which have implications for understanding political orientation and politi-

309

cal action. Closely examining the goals and
principles which Gandhi considered important can shed some light on his actions.
Based on the goals and principles of
Gandhi, outlined above, his values seem to
fall into three of the value types identified
by Schwartz (1994). The notion of the welfare of all (saruodaya) and the concern
about truth and wisdom (satya) directly corresponds to the two self-transcendent value
types of universalism and benevolence. The
emphasis placed on self-discipline corresponds to the value type of conformity as
defined by Schwartz. This is consistent with
the research of Mayton, Diessner, and
Granby (1996), who found that individuals
with predispositions to nonviolent behavior
placed more emphasis on universalism,
benevolence, and conformity values than individuals more predisposed to violence.

GANDHI'S USE OF SATYAGRAHA
TO OBTAIN POLlnCAL GOALS
Satyagraha as a
Peacebuilding Strategy
Satyagraha is a method whereby grievances
could successfully challenge an established
political order. Bondurant (1965) has outlined the steps of a typical satyagraha movement, which is an activity of civil disobedience designed to confront unjust le.ws and
policies. It would start with an effort to resolve the conflict through established channels and accepted protocol. Should these
methods prove ineffective, systematic planning for the group to take direct action
would begin. Following an active propaganda campaign involving demonstrations,
parades, etc., a final strong appeal or ultimatum to one's opponent would be made
which would explain the steps that will be
undertaken if no agreement can be
reached. Depending on the nature of the

310

grievances and the specific situation, the
subsequent actions taken may involve boycotts, strikes, and other forms of noncooperation such as nonpayment of taxes. Those
who take part in the movement are called

satyagrahi.
The Salt Satyagraha
The Salt Satyagraha was a national movement throughout India that began early in
1930 and lasted for over a year (Bondurant,
1965). Its immediate goal was the removal
of the salt tax which exploited the peasants
and symbolized the unjust nature of British
rule. The Salt Act made it a crime to possess
salt not purchased by the British salt monopoly (Fischer, 1954).
Following the initial planning of the
specific actions, Gandhi sent a letter to the
Viceroy describing the grievances regarding
the Salt Act and indicating the specific nature of the plan for civil disobedience.
When this ultimatum was ignored, Gandhi
and other satyagrahis began their historic
march to the sea. Careful planning and the
training of the satyagrahis in self-restraint
and crowd control made this a peaceful
event. The march took over three weeks
and was widely covered in the press, making
the injustice of British rule known throughout the world. Shortly after arriving at the
beach, Gandhi purposely broke the law outlined in the Salt Act by making salt. With his
act he opened the door for others to engage
in the same type of civil disobedience. Estimates of the number of Indians jailed for
breaking the Salt Act exceed sixty thousand
(Fischer, 1954). As the salt tax was still in
place, additional levels of civil disobedience
were planned and executed.
In a second letter to the Viceroy,
Gandhi explained how the satyagrahis would
demand possession of the Dharsana salt
works. While this letter led to Gandhi's ar-

Peace building: Approaches to Social Justice

rest, the march on the salt works still took
place. Over two thousand satyagrahis took
part in the nonviolent raid on the salt
works. The leaders of the Salt Satyagraha admonished the satyagrahis to not resist nor
raise a hand even to ward off the inevitable
blows from the police. Webb Miller, ajournalist for United Press, witnessed the raid
and reported
In complete silence the Gandhi men drew
up and halted a hundred yards from the
stockade. A picked column advanced from
the crowd, waded the ditches, and approached the barbed-wire stockade. Suddenly, at a word of command, scores of native policemen rushed upon the advancing
marchers and rained blows upon their
heads with their steel-shod lathis. Not one of
the marchers even raised an ann to fend off
the blows. They went down like ten-pins.
From where I stood I heard the sickening
whack of the clubs on unprotected skulls.
The waiting crowd of marchers groaned
and sucked in their breath in sympathetic
pain at every blow. Those struck down fell
sprawling, unconscious or writhing with
fractured pain or broken shoulders ... Although everyone knew that within a few
minutes he would be beaten down, perhaps
killed. I could detect no sign of wavering or
fear. They marched steadily, with heads up.
without the encouragement of music or
cheering or any possibility that they might
escape injury or death.... There was no
fight. no struggle. the marchers simply
walked forward until struck down (as quoted
by Fischer. 1954, p. 101).

The raids and the carnage continued for
days with stretcher bearers carrying bleeding men to the first aid station.
While the raids on the salt works ended
with the approaching monsoons, civil disobedience continued in the form of boycotts and intentional acts that broke unjust
laws and ordinances (Bondurant, 1965) .
Eventually, the salt regulations were modi-

Gandhi as Peacebuilder: The Social Psychology of Satyagraha

tied in ways which removed much of the injustice forced on the poor. The impact of
the thousands of localized campaigns which
were part of the Salt Satyagraha had been
successful in following the guidelines for a
satyagraha and were effective in reaching
the immediate goal.

PSYCHOLOGICAL EXPLANATIONS
FOR THE SUCCESS OF 5A7YAGRAHA
Gandhi implemented satyagraha successfully
in many contexts (Gandhi, 1951, 1957/
1927). In his "experiments with truth"
Gandhi field-tested and applied numerous
psychological constructs in very effective
ways. How can we explain the success of this
method Gandhi called a satyagraha? The
next sections of this chapter will draw on research and theory in social psychology in an
attempt to explain the positive outcomes of

satyagraha.
Attribution Theory
From Gandhi's point of view the goal of
satyagraha was to awaken the conscience 'of
the opponent (Nakhre, 1982). Social psychologists have observed that people make
attributions or try to determine the causes
of their own and other people's behavior all
the time (e.g. Brehm, Kassin, & Fein, 1999).
According to attribution theory, when we
try to understand why others are behaving
the way they are, we often focus on the situation. However, when their behavior is
vastly different from what we would expect
of people in their situation, then our tendency is to attribute their behavior to their
disposition. We learn a lot about people's
disposition when their behavior deviates
markedly from our expectation Gones &
Davis, 1965). Ordinarily, we would expect
the satyagrahis to respond violently to the violence of the British. Because the satya-

311

grahis' nonviolent behavior deviates from
the norm or what we would expect of people in their situation, we are likely to attribute their nonviolence to the disposition
of Gandhi and his fellow Indians.
Not only were the peaceful satyagrahis
viewed favorably according to world opinion, but there were additional psychological
dynamics that could have influenced the
British to focus on the unjust nature of the
Salt Acts. Social psychologists have identified a set of biases and errors that people
make in looking for causes of behavior. The
selj-stmJing bias involves the tendency of people to take less credit for failures than they
do for their successes. When the satyagrahis
provoked the British to enforce the unjust
law and to engage in violent action, selfserving attributional biases would predict
the British would continue to view themselves favorably by attributing their violent
actions to external situational factors.
Therefore, instead of denigrating themselves for inflicting pain on the Indians who
had positive dispositional characteristics,
they would attribute their violent behavior
to the external situation and focus on the
law that required them to commit acts which
were unjust. With each additional aspect of
the Salt Satyagraha as well as subsequent acts
of civil disobedience, which were nonviolent, the self-attributions of being on the
moral high ground gave way to the focus on
the socially unjustice policies created by the
British. Fischer (1954) characterized the effects of the Salt Satyagraha in a manner consistent with this attributional interpretation
when he said "it made the British aware that
they were subjugating India" (p. 102).

Attitude Change Variables
Gandhi succeeded in getting support for his
efforts from the Indian people as well as the
world community. Gandhi capitalized on

312
many of the factors identified as efficacious
by researchers of persuasive communication. In particular, three factors that are
found in models of persuasive communication are noteworthy.
First, Gandhi's charismatic leadership
clearly worked in his favor. Gandhi spent
considerable time traveling around India
observing and listening to the concerns of
the common citizen. Subsequently, he was
able to address issues of significance in succinct ways that could be easily understood.
Gandhi had a message of independence for
India and the removal of social injustices,
which were inspirational to nearly all Indians.
A second source characteristic of the
communication model of persuasion which
helped Gandhi was his similarity with the
common people of India. He dressed and
lived in the manner of an Indian peasant
which made him a positive role model. He
was very knowledgeable about diverse religious beliefs present in India and abroad
and used this knowledge to express his nonviolence in terms of Hindu, Moslem, and
Christian doctrine. From the BhagavadGita, to the Koran, to the "Sermon on the
Mount" in the Bible, Gandhi was comfortable with many different audiences. His use
of traditional terms to explain his procedures and concerns increased the support
he received.
Third, Gandhi engaged people in his
thoughtful analysis of social injustice. Petty
& Cacioppo (1986) have developed the
elaboration likelihood model. This model
proposes that the central route to persuasion, which engages the person being persuaded in serious thought to the relevant
points, results in more long term attitude
change than the peripheral route, which aJr
peals to emotion and results in lower cognitive engagement. Gandhi's efforts utilized

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

the central route to persuasion in several
ways. Because satyagraha was so different
from what people expected, the focus on
the content of the message was enhanced
and thus more serious thought was given to
the message and a more enduring change
was a result.

Negotiation Methods
Gandhi's way of dealing with the British utilized behaviors which foreshadowed the
method of principled negotiation discussed
by Fisher, Ury, and Patton (1991). The notions of separating the people from the
problem and focusing on interests and not
positions, are mainstays of principled negotiation (Fisher, Ury, & Patton, 1991). In seJr
arating the people from the problem,
Gandhi was quick to remind his satyagrahis
to distinguish the unjust laws from those
who enforced them, and when harm did befall any of the British he was deeply troubled by it. Gandhi harbored no animosity
toward any British individual and, on the
contrary, his compassion for the hardship
his actions had on the British were very genuine (Fischer, 1954). The outcome of the
Salt Satyagraha serves as a good example of
how Gandhi focused on interests of all parties instead of digging in and holding onto
a position. While the initially stated objective was the repeal of the Salt Act, when the
British agreed to modify the salt regulations
so that much of the injustice forced on the
poor ended, he modified his position and
accepted their proposal as it satisfied the interests of this satyagraha (Bondurant, 1965).

Psychological lessons from Gandhi
From the time he was thrown off the train
in South Africa until he fell from an assassin's bullet in India, Gandhi acted to rid his
country of social injustice. His peace build-

Gandhi as Peacebuilder: The Social Psychology of Satyagraha

ing efforts were strongly based on self-transcendent values combined with a commitment to principle which reflected a conservative value emphasis. The search for truth
combined with tolerance and self discipline
made him an ethical model who many
wanted to emulate. He utilized good communication with his allies and his oppo-

313

nenlS at the interpersonal level as well as via
the written word. Gandhi never lost sight of
the fact that all were humans cut from the
same cloth by God, and gave unconditional
positive regard to all. He was an applied social scientist who used some very effective
psychological principles to reach his goals.

CHAPTER 26

PEACEBUILDING AND NONVIOLENCE:
GANDHI'S PERSPECTIVE ON POWER
Manfred B. Steger

Mahatma Gandhi's theory of nonviolent
power represents a much-needed perspective from which to criticize contemporary
dominant modes of representing power primarily in terms of violence. His understanding of power offers both a theoretical and a
practical approach to the problem of peacebuilding in today's global society. This chapter makes its arguments in three parts. First,
I point to some shortcomings of the dominant discourse of power rooted in Thomas
Hobbes' early modern view of human nature. Second, I introduce Gandhi's contrasting perspective on power and nonviolence
based on his idea of "searching for satyd'
(truth, being) through the practice of
ahimsa (nonviolence). Third, I examine particularly difficult historical cases in which
the employment of nonviolent means actually produced socially transformative ends.
I am sensitive to critical voices who have
rightly urged theorists of nonviolence to
provide more precise definitions of their
key terms. I must admit that I use the term
"nonviolence" only reluctantly. because it
signifies for many people the total absence
of both "direct" (physical) and "indirect"
(structural) forms of violence. Yet, even for
Gandhi, absolute nonviolence remained a
moral ideal which might only be approximated in the world of politics. Indeed,

314

Gandhi himself sometimes engaged in such
extreme actions as fasting-unto-death and
harsh physical discipline, which could be interpreted as weapons of psychological coercion (Borman, 1986). Moreover, in Hind
Swaraj, his sole sustained treatise on political theory, published in 1909, Gandhi relied
on the conceptual violence of constructing
a "pure" Indian identity defined against a
tainted British "Other." Thus, throughout
the essay, I will therefore limit the use of the
term "nonviolence" to mean the opposite of
open, physical forms of violence. Mter all,
the earliest English usages of violence (from
the Latin violentia) describe it as "the exercise of physical force" against someone who
is thereby "interrupted or interfered with
rudely or roughly" (Keane, 1996).

THOMAS HOBBES AND THE
DOMINANT DISCOURSE OF POWER
Our ideas about social phenomena are
closely connected to the way we construct
and use language. We make sense of social
reality through discourses and narratives that
reflect shared images, ideas, values, beliefs,
and ideals. Discourses provide individuals
and social groups with a coherent orientation in time and space.

Peacebuilding and Nonviolence: Gandhi's Perspective on Power

Political discourses tend to focus on the
meaning and legitimate exercise of power
(Ricoeur, 1986). With the seventeenth-century rise of liberalism as a political doctrine
challenging feudalism and the king's divine
right to rule in an autocratic fashion, Western political discourses acquired new meanings, most importantly the idea that power
rested in individuals and their ability to
apply violence and coercion. To this day,
this central assumption is reflected in the
standard definition of the liberal agency
model ofpower: "A has power over B to the extent that he can get B to do something that
B would not otherwise do" (Dahl, 1957, pp.
203-204). This understanding of power derives from philosophical and psychological assumptions made by early modem
thinkers, most notably by the English political theorist Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679).
His ideas about human nature and political
institutions gave rise to an understanding of
power which emphasized "natural" aggression, looming violent disruptions, and other
"imaginings and threats of force, disorder,
and pain" (Sarat & Kearns, 1995, pp. 1-2).
Indeed, Hobbes's influential writings greatly
contributed to the invention of the modem
"realist" political discourse which was later
termed &alpolitik. This German term refers
to the idea that the essence of politics consists of a ceaseless struggle for power, material goods, and the control of the means of
violence.
In order to better understand the fundamental psychological and political assumptions inherent in Realpolitik's equation
of power and violence, it is useful to examine in some detail Thomas Hobbes's view of
human nature. In Leviathan, his major treatise on political theory published in 1651,
Hobbes puts at the center of his analysis a
particular understanding of the individual
as an isolated, self-contained being who interacts with other individuals in mechanical

315

fashion. As Donald Tannenbaum and David
Schultz (1998) point out, Hobbes' atomistic
conception of the individual has a clear psychological basis, rooted in three motives.
First, all individuals are amorally selfish and
controlled by their hedonistic desires and
physical appetites. They are absorbed in
their personal interests as they compete for
scarce or limited goods such as wealth. Second, they are impelled by the desire to seek
power and domination of others to protect
themselves and their goods. As Hobbes
notes, "I put as a general inclination of all
mankind a perpetual and restless desire of
power after power that ceases only in death"
(1985, p. 161). This is due to what Hobbes
calls "diffidence," or mistrust of others. Finally, individuals desire glory, the good opinion of others which makes them seem superior and more praiseworthy (Tannebaum &
Schultz, 1998).
For Hobbes, "reason" merely functions
as a calculating device in the service of passion which leads the individual toward pleasure and the avoidance of pain. However,
the raging competition among appetitive individuals for the same goals results in a state
of violent anarchy-a "natural state of war"
bereft of civility, friendship, and compassion. In Hobbes' state of nature, "the life of
man is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short"
(Hobbes, 1985, p. 186). On one hand, their
irrational desires prompt individuals to behave like solitary beasts who feel no natural
obligation to others and are guided solely
by the urge for power and self-satisfaction.
On the other, however, they seek to use reason to escape the "continual fear and danger of violent death" lurking in the chaotic
state of nature. It is this fear of death, born
of their own primordial violent tendencies
that ultimately serves as the incentive for
calculating individuals to create an artificial
"civil society" which ends the state of nature
and allows for the maximizing of pleasures

316

while minimizing the possibility of violent
death. Through a social contract, individuals
transfer their "natural right" to exercise
power through violence to a common sovereign authority (the state) which claims a monopoly on the use of violence.
Relying on a model of human nature
based on an individualized psychology of
primordial violence and fear, Hobbes was
the first modern thinker to argue for the
creation of a more "rational" and therefore more "economical" order of violence
backed by popular consent rather than divine right. While Hobbes' contract theory
opened the door for the later development
of more democratic models of self-government based on popular sovereignty, it also
provided the rationale for modem Realpolitik and its claim that the exercise of political
power inevitably involved the capacity to unleash violence. The creation of a civil society
through the social contract merely centralized violence in the hands of a powerful
state: "Covenants without the sword are but
words, and of no strength to secure a man
at all" (Hobbes, 1985, p. 223). Evident in
Hobbes' connection between "strength"
and the "sword," the sovereign's power was
ultimately grounded in force and violence,
not persuasion and communication.
As I will show below, Gandhi's model
of power fundamentally challenged such
dominant "realist" discourses of power. Unfortunately, modem thinkers in the West
have failed to respond to Gandhi's challenge of Hobbes' one-dimensional conception of power as bringing violence to bear
on someone else's person or possessions.
Seen as hopelessly utopian and politically
impotent, alternative models of power such
as Gandhi's hardly ever impact the contemporary debates on democracy and social justice. As a result, liberal democratic discourses
of power perpetuate the belief in the naturalness of violence, and a new generation of citi-

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

zens resigns itself to the "fact" that the maintenance of our individual liberties as well as
our political institutions of representative
democracy inevitably involve some forms of
violence. In the end, political thinkers in the
Hobbesian tradition remain suspended in
discursive and cultural practices that simultaneously encourage, limit, and redistribute
the violence of its origins. Thus, it is not hard
to concur with John Keane's (1996) observation that the reasons for political theory's
frozen political imagination about violence
and power and its consequent glum silence
about nonviolence derive from the "confused and confusing melange of unspoken
prejudices and significant assumptions" of
the Hobbesian paradigm.

MAHATMA GANDHI'S NONVIOLENT
SEARCH FOR TRUTH
The most valuable contribution of Gandhi's
theory of nonviolent power lies in its critique of dominant discourses of power
based on a psychology of fear which equates
power with violence. Gandhi emphasized
the crucial role of moral reason in a politically anchored, nonviolent search for truth.
Gandhi's defense of radical political action
directed against opJ,ression corresponded
to his preference for a conception of theory
as a "criti<;.al program" designed to charge
political systems and their institutions with
violating universal human rights. From a
Gandhian perspective, nonviolent direct action-the withdrawal of popular obedience-is the most effective way of frustrating unaccountable power networks. Gandhi
and his followers thus considered both a
philosophical and a pragmatic "search for
truth" as an indispensable means for challenging the violence of colonialism and
other forms of oppression.
Before discussing the basic elements of
Gandhi's political thought-satya (truth,

Peacebuilding and Nonviolence: Gandhi's Perspective on Power

being), agraha (finnness, force, power), and
ahimsa (nonviolence)-we must remember
that . he considered himself primarily a
spokesman for the marginalized and downtrodden, such as the Indian caste of dalits
("Untouchables"). Gandhi's writings and
speeches can hardly be detached from their
cultural context, reflecting the concreteness
of his political location within an intricate
web of existing power relations which routinely undennined a sense of human dignity
and cultural self-expression. Thus, it was
only through concrete political struggles
that he developed his new model of political power as the nonviolent search for truth
(satyagraha). Yet, nonviolent resisters (satyagrahis) could not unilaterally impart privileged philosophical knowledge to the masses;
rather, they developed their own theoretical
understanding of nonviolent political power
out of their daily interactions with those social groups most exposed to the effects of
colonial power. Indeed, Gandhi's political
theory represents less a cognitive affair than
a problem-driven, theoretical extension of
concrete experiences of domination and resistance at the level of everyday existence.
The violence of racism, for example, was
embodied by the colonial policeman who
threw the young Indian barrister out of the
first-class cabin of a train bound for Maritzburg or the English barber in Pretoria
who refused to cut the hair of a "bloody
coolie" (Gandhi, 1948).' Such moments of
intense suffering served as the crucial catalysts for Gandhi's fonnidable challenge to
the dominant Hobbesian discourse of
power.
Deeply influenced by the Jain philosophy of anekantavada---the many-sidedness of
all phenomena-Gandhi defended througout
lFor an interpretation of Gandhi's spirituality as attention to the details of social and politicailife, see Brown
(1989); ChatteIjee (1983); and Green (1993).

317

his life the importance of an ethical and
spiritual pluralism rooted in the fragmentariness of our understanding of satya
(Chattexjee, 1983). Noting the derivation of
the tenn from the Sanskrit verb sat ("to be"
or "to exist"), Gandhi opted for an "experimental" basis of truth which differed
sharply from Cartesian rationalism and its
various philosophical offshoots. In other
words, while explaining truth as epistemological (truth as "factual correctness"), pragmatic (truth as "selfless political action"),
psychological (truth as "honesty"), and religious (truth as "God"), Gandhi remained
nonetheless firmly wedded to the skeptic's
position regarding the difficulty of ever
grasping satya in its fullness (Iyer, 1973).
In spite of the complexity of moral
choices, the political activist was called upon
to continue the struggle for a political realization of satya through the employment of
nonviolent means: negotiations, demonstrations,
strikes, civil disobedience, and other nonviolent
forms of non-cooperation. Deeply concerned
with the practical applicability of truth,
Gandhi insisted on a tight connection between theory and practice; this allowed him
to address head-on the practical difficulties
associated with the notorious political ineffectiveness of rational discussion and the
ensuing moral problem of the proper relationship between means and ends in instances where reason had fallen silent. "I
have found that mere appeal to reason does
not answer where prejudices are age-long
and based on supposed religious authority.
Reason has to be strengthened by suffering
and suffering opens the eyes of understanding" (Gandhi in Bose, 1948, p. 222).
But what exactly did Gandhi mean by
"strengthening reason through suffering"?
Wasn't it much more "reasonable" to avoid
suffering and pain at all cost, especially in
times of crisis when the thin garments of civility were stripped away and naked impera-

318
rives for self-preservation prevailed? It was
precisely in such situations that the Hobbesian model of violent retaliation seemed to
offer commonsensical, practical guidance
for eliminating human suffering caused by
arbitrary acts of violence.
For Gandhi, a genuine process of
peacebuilding had to involve the use of
nonviolent means to secure a sustainable satisfaction of human needs of security, identity, self-determination, and quality of life.
His most serious challenge to the dominant
Hobbesian discourse of power becomes apparent in his conscious break with the assumption that the nature of political power
was to be found in the capacity to unleash
violence, and thus, that the exercise of pol itical power inevitably involved employing violent means of physical coercion. Instead,
he offered a compelling rationale for why
the principle of ahimsa might constitute the
core of an alternative model of power:
[Itl is a method of securing rights by personal suffering; it is the reverse of resistance
by anns. When I refuse to do a thing that is
repugnant to my conscience, I use soulforce. For instance, the Government of the
day has passed a law which is applicable to
me. I do not like it. If by using violence I
force the Government to repeal the law, I
am employing what may be tenned bodyforce. If I do not obey the law and accept
the penalty for its breach, I use soul-force. It
involves sacrifice of the self. (Gandhi, 1938,
p.71)

As Dennis Dalton (1993) noted, the
term "power" appears to be a much better
translation for satyagraha than "soul-force,"
because "force" is usually associated with "vi- .
olence." Mter all, it was precisely this supposedly natural connection between power and
violence that Gandhi wished to challenge in
his assertion that satyagraha represented
power "born of Truth and Love or nonviolence" (Gandhi, 1958, Vol. 29, p. 92). For

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

Gandhi, the infliction of violence on another
person presumed society's ability to pass ultimate judgment in terms of right and wrong;
but since there was never absolute certainty
as to the truth of one's own position, there
could be no "natural right" or competence to
punish: "In the application of satyagraha, I
discovered in the earliest stages that pursuit
of Truth did not admit of violence being inflicted on one's opponent, but that he must
be weaned from error by patience and sympathy. For what appears to be Truth to one
may appear false to the other" (Gandhi,
1958, Vol. 19, p. 46). Even forms of corrective violence undertaken by agents of the
state or other "legitimate" claimants of authority amounted to the dogmatic posture of
violently enforcing one's partial understanding of truth. Thus, Gandhi insisted that the
practice of arriving at uncoerced, consensual
truth through the practice of ahimsa represented the only rationally defensible course
of action. Employed as nonviolent direct action, such as in Gandhi's famous 1930 Salt
March when he and his followers defied the
British monopoly on salt-making, satyagraha
overcame the dilemma of political impotence without violating its theoretical emphasis on nonviolence. It allowed for a settling of
conflicts which did not involve the elimination of enemies or the application of physical
force. AsJoan Bonduran.t (1988, p. 195) has
put it, "The claim for satyagraha is that
through the operation of nonviolent action
the truth as judged by the fulfillment of
human needs will emerge in the form of a
mutually satisfactory and agreed-upon solution." This practical reconciliation of self-interest and other-interest could only be consistently applied through the practice of
satyagraha: "Means and ends are convertible
terms in my political philosophy" (Gandhi,
1958, Vol. 25, p. 480).
But the firm adherence to such an ethic
was not an easy option for the fainthearted.

Peacebuilding and Nonviolence: Gandhi's Perspective on Power

To put up a detennined resistance to British
troops and their deadly firepower without
resorting to violence required tremendous
courage of the sort that seemed to ignore
the biological imperatives of self-preservation. Once again, Hobbes' psychologically
effective story of the omnipresent danger of
society's descent into war seems to make the
more convincing argument for basing political order on the ineradicable persistence of
fear and violence. For Hobbes, to be alive
meant to experience the fear of violent
death. Early modern political thinkers skillfully interwove their influential postulations
of natural imperatives for self-preservation
with the development of a psychology of
fear in which the horrors of physical pain
and violent death were the essential components constituting human identity. Political
leaders who disregarded fear in favor of
love were seen by realists as fools blind to
the "commonsensical" claim that without violence, politics had to come to a halt, for
politics was essentially a commerce with violence.
Gandhi never denied the existence of
fear in the face of the unsettling possibiHty
of having to endure physical pain, torture,
and violent death in the course of nonviolent direct actions. But it was precisely because afhis clear recognition of the pivotal
role of fear that he refused to go along with
Hobbes' conclusion. For Gandhi, any attempt to exclusively link fear to a discourse
of power as violence merely served as a
means to disrupt dialogue.
Gandhi insisted on the possibility of
overcoming fear with the result of realizing
self-rule in both a political and psychological sense. The traditional Hindu virtue of
abhaya (fearlessness) in the face of violence,
repression, and even impending death was a
quality which the satyagrahi could gradually
develop through rigorous spiritual, political, and social training in ahimsa: 'Just as

319

one must learn the art of killing in the training for violence, so one must learn the art
of dying in the training of nonviolence ....
The votary of nonviolence has to cultivate
the capacity for sacrifice of the highest type
in order to be free from fear.... He who
has not overcome all fear cannot practice
ahimsa to perfection" (Gandhi, 1958, Vol.
72, p. 416).2 Undoubtedly, Gandhi's familiarity with Indian philosophies and religions
facilitated his adroit utilization of self-suffering as a method for simultaneously transfonning one's own fear and morally persuading one's oppressor.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF FEAR 3
In the previous chapter on Gandhi by Dan
Mayton, some social psychological explanations for the effectiveness of nonviolent action were hypothesized. In this section, the
control of fear through cognitive mediation
and learning is discussed.
Gandhi argued that fear need not be
linked to violent behavior. This insight is supported by psychological work on the emotion
of fear. Stressful environmental stimuli trigger the fight orflight mechanism, whereby physiological responses in the nervous system
arouse the body and prepare it for action.
Any situation that is interpreted as dangerous can activate a range of chemical and hormonal changes throughout the brain and
muscular system, changes which stimulate
the muscles for action. Specifically, the hypothalamus controls the sympathetic system, releasing neurotransmitters to activate various
organs and smooth muscles, such as heart
rate and pupil dilation. Simultaneously,
chemical transmitters are released into the
2For a discussion of the traditional Indian cardinal
moral virtues, see Datta, 1953, pp. 86-104.
3This section was contributed by Deborah Du Nann
Winter, Laura Boston, Sara Houck, and Matthew Lee.

320
bloodstream to elevate blood sugar levels
that prepare muscles for quick action. The
combined effect of these chemical and muscular changes is a heightened probability of
fight or flight, and the accompanying emotional experience of anger and/ or fear.
Therapists have developed a range of
techniques to lower the stress response in
their patients and reduce the likelihood of
fight or flight, thereby supporting Gandhi's
claim that fear need not lead to violence. For
example, patients suffering from a phobia, or
excessive fear, can be classically conditioned
to emit alternative responses to anxiety-provoking stimuli. Just as a patient who is deathly
afraid of snakes can be taught to breathe
deeply and gradually learn to enjoy playing
with one, so training for nonviolence teaches
political activists to stay calm, resist the temptation to run or fight, and stay near a buddy
who can monitor one's actions (see Montiel's
chapter, also in this section). Rehearsals and
drills for nonviolent actions are important
features of the method's success, demonstrating the behavioral approach to changing
stress responses.
Cognitive therapy also offers insights.
Fight or flight behavior is most likely when
thoughts about danger are unexamined,
leading to self-protective strategies. However, Gandhi teaches that suffering is a crucial feature of truth, and that self-protection
is less important than ultimate truth, which
addresses the human needs of more people
than the self. Thus attributing one's personal suffering to a necessary struggle against
unjust social conditions helps activists endure discomfort and personal pain. Clear
recognition of the justness of one's cause
fortifies nonviolent activists to remain steadfast, rather than cave in to fight or flight.
Again, training in nonviolence is necessary
because thoughts and cognitions about risks
and physical pain are important in mediating fight or flight.

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

The psychology of fear might be seen as
indirect evidence for Hobbes. Mter all, we
are physiologically wired for fight or flight,
and must be taught to resist these actions
when chemically aroused. Without the cortical areas of the brain, Hobbes' view might
prevail. However, the fact that we can be
taught to resist violence, as well as the fact
that we have to be taught to emit it (as in
the strenuous training procedures of boot
camp for military institutions), demonstrates that the human propensity for violence greatly depends on learning, thinking, and even spiritual dimensions. The
ability to endure personal suffering for the
greater good is a spiritual capacity which
Gandhi and other great religious leaders,
including Christ, have demonstrated.
In summary, then, Gandhi's conceptualization of.power as seeking truth through
the practice of ahimsa challenges the dominant discourse of power as the ability to inflict violence. He opted for a model favoring the idea of common people exercising
power nonviolently through voluntary selfsuffering and sacrifice for a cause they consider to be just and true according the standard of fulfillment of human needs. As
such, Gandhi's ideas are clearly reflective of
a position espoused by the authors in this
volume-a peace psychology that seeks to
elucidate psychological processes involved
in the prevention and mitigation of destructive conflict, violence, dominance, oppression, and exploitation.

DOES NONVIOLENCE 'WORK"?
TWO CASE STUDIES
Gandhi's perspective has served as an inspiration to other twentieth-century proponents of nonviolence, such as Martin Luther
King,Jr., Nelson Mandela, Vaclav Havel, and
Aung San Suu Kyi. Still, many critics have
questioned the practicality of nonviolent

Peace building and Nonviolence: Gandhi's Perspective on Power

power to redress social injustices, arguing
that Gandhi's nonviolent campaigns or
the Civil Rights Movement under Martin
Luther King, Jr. merely represent exceptional cases which show that nonviolence
will only "work" with principled oppressors
such as Great Britain or the United States.
Inevitably, such skeptics point to more difficult cases of oppressive authoritarian governments that are not bound by a democratic logic. George Orwell (1950) most clearly
captures this common objection: "It is difficult to see how Gandhi's methods could be
applied in a country where opponents of
the regime disappear in the middle of the
night and are never heard of again" (p.
101).
Drawing on two extreme cases, I will
argue that Orwell's assertion is open to serious challenges. The nonviolent resistance of
the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo against
the murderous Argentine military dictatorship of the 1970s, and the little-known 1943
Berlin Rosenstrasse Protest of ordinary Germans against the genocidal policies of the
Nazi state show that the power of satyagraha
can be successfully employed even agairist
the most repressive political regimes in
modern history.

Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo
During the Argentine junta's 1976 to 1983
"Dirty War" against political "subversives,"
whose crimes consisted of demanding Argentina's return to democracy and the government's adherence to human rights, tens
of thousands of ordinary citizens were abducted and tortured, often disappearing
forever in the secret prisons of the military
dictatorship (Guzman Bouvard, 1994). The
power of the junta rested on its total control
of the coercive state apparatus and the mass
media. Moreover, its virulent anti-Communist rhetoric secured the tacit support of the

321

United States and heightened a sense of
general helplessness and all-pervading fear
on the part of the population.
Beginning in 1977, a small group of
middle-aged women-most of whom were
homemakers who had never before actively
participated in politics-formed the core of
a growing dissident movement in Argentina
which resolved to "speak truth" to the military government Known as the Mothers of
the Plaza de Mayo, these women gathered
regularly at the central square of Buenos
Aires and publicly demanded from the
regime that it disclose the whereabouts of
their abducted sons and husbands. Circling
the Plaza de Mayo arm-in-arm and wearing
white shawls which symbolized the innocence of their children, the Mothers broke
through the wall of fear and passivity in
spite of mounting repressive measures employed by the police. Employing Gandhian
methods of nonviolent struggle-demonstrations, strikes, and noncooperation-the
Mothers defied police barricades, tear gas,
attack dogs, arrests, and even assassinations.
Undeterred, they continued their weekly
display of solidarity, motherly care, and
nonviolent power. By the late 1970s, the
Mothers had built an impressive network
of support that included church leaders,
human rights activists, labor unionists, and
other ordinary citizens who felt inspired by
the women's ongoing political dialogue on
truth. Having acquired an international reputation and a distinct identity as nonviolent
protectors of human life against brute force,
the Mothers' activities ultimately proved to
be instrumental in bringing down the military dictatorship in the wake of Argentina's
1982 war with England over the Falkland
Islands.
The impressive example of the Mothers
of the Plaza de Mayo shows the efficacy of
nonviolent power even in struggles against
brutal oppressors who refuse to identify with

322
the logic ofliberal democracy. In particular,
three important lessons can be drawn from
this Argentine case. First, the Mothers
proved that the values and language of militarism can be successfully challenged by a
nonviolent, maternal discourse of life, family, love, and trust. Emphasizing the continuity between the private sphere and public
responsibility, the Mothers ingeniously employed traditional concepts of maternity for
their own revolutionary purpose without
resorting to violent or immoral tactics.
Second, like Charter 77-VacIav Havel's dissident organization in communist Czechoslovakia-the Mothers represented the everpresent possibility of a moral regeneration
of society through the nonviolent creation
of a resistance movement within an oppressive society. Founded on principles
of self-management, shared responsibility,
and direct democracy, the Argentine dissident organization demonstrated the awesome power of solidaristic, nonviolent action. Third, the Mothers provided another
impressive example of a new political consciousness of women challenging male
conceptions of power and strength. Seemingly one of the most powerless groups in
society, these middle-aged women took
control of their lives and moved beyond
their culture's restraints and expectations,
in the process enlarging the political sphere
of all Argentine women. Organized around
the Gandhian principle of ahimsa, the
Mothers of the Plaza the Mayo united feeling, thinking, and acting in their powerful
display of maternal love and individual responsibility.

Rosenstrasse Protest
Let us now tum to the most difficult case:
Nazi Germany at the height of its power.
Nathan Stoltzfus' study, Resistance of the
Heart (1996) charts the lives of ordinary

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

Germans who married Jews in the context
of Nazi persecution and social harassment.
Using interviews with surviving resisters and
thousands of Nazi records never before examined in detail, Stoltzfus brings into sharp
focus the frequently neglected issue of German:Jewish intermarriages in Nazi Germany. In December 1942, with the "Final
Solution" at its height, there were still dose
to 30,000 intermarried couples in the German Reich and its Czech protectorate area.
Given that the large majority of intermarried Germans were women, the story of opposition by intermarried Germans is largely
(but not only) the story of German women
married to Jewish men (Stoltzfus, 1996, p.
xxvii).
The existence of these intermarried
couples was disturbing to Nazi ideology for
a variety of reasons. First, under the Nazi
logic of "racial purification," intermarried
Jews should have been the first Jews to be
isolated and deported. Yet, it proved to be
impossible for the regime to forcibly break
up these marriages without undermining
social traditions such as the "sanctity of marriage," fervently supported by Nazi ideology.
Second, intermarried couples gave birth to
a "polluted mixture of Master Race and
Jew" called Mischlinge. Third, their noncompliance with racial laws and their unwillingness to divorce their spouses directly challenged Nazi power and its propaganda of.
flawless German unity and the people's unquestioned loyalty to concepts of racial purity and superiority.
The sole known mass demonstration
against Nazi racial policies, the 1943 Berlin
"Rosenstrasse Protest," involved hundreds
to thousands of Germans protesting the
mass arrest of intermarried Jews. Stoltzfus
explains not only why the demonstrations
ended successfully in the release of the detainedjews, but he also offers a compelling
narrative framework that shows the power

Peacebuilding and Nonviolence: Gandhi's Perspective on Power

of nonviolent resistance. For six days, hundreds of Gennan women engaged in public demonstrations. Demanding their husbands, sons, and brothers back, they defied
menacing guards and refused to comply
with Hitler's Total War decree ordering
them to register for work. Joseph Goebbels
was ultimately forced to order the release of
the Jewish prisoners, because he realized
that Nazi power rested, first and foremost,
on popular accommodation ranging from
enthusiastic support to passive acceptance.
A withdrawal of accommodation touched
off by the Rosenstrasse Protest could cause
serious problems for the regime. The Nazi
dictatorship feared social unrest more than
it feared compromising its racial ideology or
even rescinding its racist initiatives. The successful Rosenstrasse protest is extremely significant, for it proves that nonviolent opposition to the Nazi state was possible and that
limits could have been placed even on the
most notorious aspect of the regime--genocide. On Rosenstrasse, the protesters expressed the nonviolent power of "living in
truth"-the willingness to live according to
one's own conscience and reason, in the
process defying the most murderous regime
in the twentieth century (Stoltzfus, 1996).

323

CONCLUSION
Rejecting the dominant discourse of power
based on Hobbes' psychology of fear which
equates power and violence, Gandhi instead
provided a model of political power based
on fearlessness and ahimsa. Emphasizing the
crucial connection between political theory
and social practice, Gandhi's perspective on
nonviolent power appeals to the kind of
"practical wisdom" that can actually be used
and applied by peace activists. The reassertion of such a problem-driven approach
reinvigorates the critical impulse to understand and address concrete political problems in the world. By raising the crucial
question of how political power can be conceptualized and practiced in nonviolent ways,
Gandhi focused on the importance of linking social theory to the concrete task of diffusing violence in society. Thus, his perspective on power and nonviolence contains a
strong injunction to link morality and politics without abandoning the great Enlightenment ideal of individual self-realization.
At the end of a long century of violence,
Gandhi's perspective on power and nonviolence indeed offers an appealing vista for
the twenty-first century.

CHAPTER 27

GIVING VOICE TO CHILDREN'S
PERSPECTIVES ON PEACE
lise Hakvoort and Solveig Hagglund

You are really interested in what I have to
say about peace! I enjoy talking to you. I do
have a lot of thoughts about peace, war, and
solving conflicts but nobody ever asked me
about it.
This comment was made by a 13-year-old
Dutch girl who participated in an interview
study. In this chapter, the concept of peace
and strategies to attain peace will be addressed from the perspective of children
and adolescents. By listening to what children have to say about these issues, we have
access to what they internalize through various kinds of interactions with their environment (Bronfenbrenner, 1979).
In order to give voice to children's ideas
about peace, we will present some results
from a cross-cultural research project initiated in the middle 1990s (d. Hagglund,
Hakvoort, & Oppenheimer, 1996). An international group of researchers (Le., from
Australia, Croatia, India, Israel, Latvia,
Lithuania, Malaysia, the Netherlands, Northern Ireland, Philippines, South Africa, and
Sweden) collaborated in this ongoing endeavour. In this chapter, voice is given to

324

children from two relatively peaceful Eur<r
pean countries with a long tradition of democratic political systems: the Netherlands
and Sweden.
We begin by presenting children's reflections on the concept of peace and their
ideas about strategies they think will promote peace. Four themes will emerge: communication, interpersonal relationships,
human values, and nature. In the following
sections, we elaborate on these four themes
and then we present developmental considerations, focusing on the increasing compexity of children's conceptions of peace.
Throughout, we emphasize the diversity
of children's conceptualizations which is
caused by the varying contexts in which children are socialized. We conclude with some
thoughts about children's conceptions of
peace and implications for training children in conflict management in the twentyfirst century.
From our perspective, children's conceptions of peace and strategies to attain
peace are products of their interactions with
the social, cultural, political, and physical
environment (d. Durkin, 1995; Winegar &

Giving Voice to Children's Perspectives on Peace
Valsiner, 1992a, 1992b; Woodhead, Light, &
Carr, 1991). Accordingly, we begin by highlighting some features of the contexts in
which Dutch and Swedish children live and
grow.

CHILDREN'S CONCEPTIONS
OF PEACE IN TWO SOCIETIES
The Netherlands
and Sweden
The Netherlands and Sweden represent
two different but overlapping contexts for
socialization and development (Hakvoort,
Hagglund, & Oppenheimer, 1998). Both
countries are positioned in northwestern
Europe and are members of the European
Union. While the total Swedish territory
covers 449,964 square kilometers (173,732
square miles), the Dutch territory is much
smaller, covering 41,526 square kilometers
(16,033 square miles). The populations
show a reverse order: The Netherlands has
a population of 15,499,000 people, while
Sweden has a population of 8,564,000 people. The Netherlands and Sweden both
have democratic political systems and both
are monarchies (i.e., the monarch is the formal head of the state-a hereditary titleand a prime minister is the head of the government). The voting age in both countries
is 18 years of age. The Netherlands represents a mixed Catholic and Protestant tradition (i.e., 39 percent no religion; 33 percent
Roman Catholic; 23 percent Protestant;
3 percent Muslim; 2 percent other). Until
recently Sweden had a State church in the
Protestant tradition to which the majority of
the population (88 percent) belonged.
Children in both countries face comparable standards of social and economic development in education, health care, child
care, and social welfare. Moreover, Dutch

325
and Swedish children can expect similar
prospects for future education and employment. Basically, both have identical experiences with regard to information in the
mass media (i.e., news about world events,
fashion, and music). Generally, peace and
democracy tend to be regarded as stable and
unthreatened in these countries though
there are some tensions between immigrants and national groups.
The most obvious difference between
the two countries is the historical fact that the
Netherlands was directly involved in the Second World War in defending its borders and
finally repelling the invading Germans, while
Sweden was only indirectly involved by supplying arms and information to both sides of
the conflict. Hence, Dutch children are
raised in a context of collective memories
and symbols related to the war (e.g., war
cemeteries, parents and grandparents telling
about the war, annual memorial services for
the fallen, and liberty and peace celebrations). Swedish children rarely, if ever, have
experienced these kinds of cultural manifestations and memories of peace and war.

Assessing Children's Conceptions
of Peace
Individual, semi-structured interviews were
conducted with a total of 207 Dutch and 209
Swedish children, aged seven to 17. These
children presented their ideas about peace
and war, and strategies to attain peace (cf.
Hakvoort et al., 1998). We wanted them to
think about peace from various perspectives,
including their own personal role in peace
processes, and what they would do to take
care of peace if they were the boss of their
country and the boss of the world. During the
interviews we experienced how the children
were constructing their thoughts while talking to us.

326

THEMES
Communication
At all ages, Dutch and Swedish children referred to the absence of war and the absence of war activities (e.g., the absence of
fighting) when asked about peace. Stopping
and preventing wars were mentioned as
ways of making peace. This tendency for
children to equate absence of war (i.e., negative peace) to the concept of peace has
been shown consistently in many different
studies (for a review, see Hakvoort & Oppenheimer, 1998).
Dutch and Swedish children also discussed how negative peace could be attained. Typically the children first mentioned who they thought should be involved
in stopping or preventing wars and secondly
what actions should be undertaken. Most
children did not think that they themselves
were able to take the responsibility for actions to stop wars. They repeatedly suggested that someone in a power position
(e.g., country leaders, kings, or the United
Nations) should do so by using talking
strategies, including negotiations with enemies, discussions with other leaders, and
talks with their own soldiers. Previous research has shown that such a "personalization" of political responsibility is common
among children (Torney & Hess, 1971). For
example, Torney and Hess reported that
young children "view political systems as if
they consisted of one or two persons to
whom personal relationships can be formed"
(p. 472). As children get older, they learn to
understand that political structures and political instituti,ons exist without a particular
person.
It seemed as if the Dutch and Swedish
children were confident in having trustworthy and competent leaders around. By suggesting various kinds of "talking strategies"
the children expressed an implicit knowl-

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

edge about the importance of communication and dialogue. We would argue that this
knowledge is a momentous prerequisite to
attain and maintain peace.

Interpersonal Relationships:
Having Friends
When peers were included in their thoughts
about making or maintaining peace, the
seven- to 13-year-old Dutch and Swedish
children regarded themselves as active participants in making or maintaining peace.
They frequently referred to interpersonal
relationships in their ideas about strategies
to make peace and they seemed to have developed knowledge and skills to build and
maintain positive relationships with their
friends and age-mates (Hagglund, 1999).
Even though the Dutch and Swedish children literally referred to situations that
would be defined as negative peace (Le.,
avoiding or stopping interpersonal conflicts), they, at the same time, described activities and strategies aimed at maintaining
and developing positive relationships with
friends: "When I have a quarrel with my
friend, I would go to him to shake hands
and tell him that he can come to my place
and borrow my bike this afternoon." They
also mentioned helping their mother, playing with friends, and being nice and kind to
classmates.
Clearly, in their concepts of peace and
in their ideas about how to attain peace,
friendship seemed to playa significant role.
We regard this as an illustration of the fact
that peer groups constitute important social
settings for the development of social
knowledge. This is in line with research
showing that peer groups offer natural social settings in which norms, values, and attitudes are elaborated and practiced (Corsaro, 1990; Fr0nes, 1995; Piaget, 1932). In
short, children's conceptions of peace are

Giving Voice to Children's Perspectives on Peace

not merely the absence of something negative but also include actions that contribute
to interpersonal cooperation and harmony.

Human Values: Equality
and Social Justice
In contrast to younger children, adolescents
(13 to 17 years) did not refer to individually
oriented activities when describing ways of
making peace. Instead, they spoke about
values such as equality and solidarity between human beings. When proposing strategies to establish equality, Dutch adolescents expressed views different from the
Swedish adolescents. The Dutch 13 to 17
year olds talked about reducing discrimination, increasing tolerance, and, to a lesser
extent, strengthening democratic processes.
They thought this could be done by informing and educating people via, for example,
media and pamphlets. In contrast, the
Swedish adolescents more frequently emphasized the importance of international
collaboration and sharing their own welfare
with poor people in other countries. For
example, they suggested sending clothes,
money, and medicine to Third World countries. They also referred to the membership
of the European Union as a way to attain
peace. Clearly, the Dutch adolescents were
more attuned to addressing peace in their
own society, while the Swedish adolescents
expressed a more global orientation in which
peace in other societies was the focus (Hakvoort et ai., 1998).
When compared to children, adolescents demonstrate an enlarged repertoire
of ideas about peace which include not
only peacekeeping and peacemaking but
also social justice. In view of the monuments and other remembrances of World
War II, it is not surprising that Dutch children mention actions that diminsh the likelihood of war when they discuss the mean-

327
ing of peace. In addition, a social justice orientation is apparent in their conceptions of
peace, especially when they describe activities that would strengthen non-oppressive
societal structures.
Similarly, Swedish adolescents include
social justice in their repertoire. However,
Swedish adolescents have an international
orientation, referring to the promotion of
non-oppressive structures globally. Clearly,
both Dutch and Swedish adolescents are
keenly aware of the importance of social justice; they differ in their unit of analysis: intranational for Dutch adolescents and international for Swedish adolescents.

Nature and Sustainability
Some children in our study, in particular,
Dutch boys, referred to nature and ecological issues when asked about peace and
strategies to attain peace (Hakvoort, 1996).
These ideas were emphasized even more
when they discussed strategies to attain or
maintain peace. They mentioned, for example, preserving rainforests, closing polluting
industries, and stopping the usage of cars or
airplanes. In recent decades, an increase in
attention to the natural environment in
which humans live has been noted in the
Netherlands. The media, interest groups
and associations, and political organizations
show an increase in their concern for these
issues. In a country like the Netherlands,
with so many people and so little space, information about sustainability is of widespread interest.

DEVELOPMENTAL CONSIDERATIONS:
COMPLEXITY AND DIVERSITY
IN CHILDREN'S RESPONSES
Evidence is accumulating which suggests
that some features of children's thinking
can be generalized quite widely. As children

328
develop, their conceptions of peace become
increasingly multidimensional, complex, and
dynamic, not unlike the complex and divergent ways in which peace researchers operationalize the construct of peace (cf.
Brock-Ume, 1989; Galtung, 1996; Rinehart,
1995).
Indeed, previous studies (for review see
Hakvoort & Oppenheimer, 1998) have demonstrated that older children and adolescents continue to include references to the
absence of direct violence (i.e., negative
peace) when they conceptualize peace, just
as younger children do. In addition, adolescents enlarge their "cognitive repertoire" by
including ideas about positive peace (e.g.,
respect, tolerance, democracies, and univeral rights).
In short, our work suggests that children's growing ability to understand the
complexity of peace issues is likely to be a
universal phenomenon due to the child's
increasingly sophisticated means of processing information. On the other hand, the
content of their ideas about peace varies
considerably, reflecting diversity, because
children do not learn about peace and
strategies to attain peace in a vacuum. Instead, they learn in particular cultural and
historical contexts. Hence, when we look at
children's conceptualizations across time
and place, divergent meanings emerge and
contextual diversity becomes our main interest (cf. Aspeslagh & Burns, 1996). By
contextual diversity we mean that children's
ideas and beliefs about peace and strategies
to attain peace are developed in varying
contexts. For example, children in the
Netherlands grow up in a context where
memories of the Second World War and the
celebration of peace are salient, while in
Sweden, discourses about peace and war are
relatively rare.

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

TOWARDS THE FUTURE
From our perspective, children and adolescents are actively and continuously involved
in the process of conceptualizing peace.
Moreover, their conceptions of peace, while
following a developmental course toward increasing complexity, are nuanced by the
contexts within which children grow and
develop. In some countries, for example,
peace education and conflict resolution
programmes are part of the school curriculum, while in countries like Liberia,
Uganda, and El Salvador, children must
face their "responsibility" as child soldiers.
In some places, children are prepared to become citizens by learning about democratic
elections and their responsibility to influence political decisions; in other countries
children are taught to kill their neighbors.
Finally, in some countries children may
percieve that they participate in peace
processes by writing letters to heads of state,
while their agemates in other countries participate in peace by demonstrating in the
streets.
Because children's conceptions of
peace depend on context, their notions do
not neatly conform to Western models of
peace and the means to attain peace. For instance, while there has been a proliferation of programs to teach children conflict
resolution skills in the West, the inductive approach we are employing would
suggest a "one size fits all" approach might
not easily be exported to children who are
growing up in vastly different contexts
(see also Pedersen in this volume). Moreover, in view of the increasing interdependency of the world, considerations of
the context-sensitive nature of peace are
likely to become more important in the future.

Giving Voice to Children's Perspectives on Peace

Because children's understanding of
peace and strategies to attain peace are contextually informed, their views are good indices of the prevailing norms, values, and attitudes towards peace in their society (cf.
Hakvoort, 1996). By listening to children,
we can gain insights into the norms, values,
and attitudes a particular society holds. In-

329
sights into the developmental substrates of
children's ideas, combined with an understanding of how their conceptions vary
across contexts, should help us assess the
state of peace in the world and should give
us some indication of its changing nature as
we move through the twenty-first century.

CHAPTER 28

REDRESSING STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE
AGAINST CHILDREN:
EMPOWERMENT-BASED INTERVENTIONS
AND RESEARCH
Linda Webster and Douglas D. Perkins

Structural violence occurs when political
and economic systems are organized in ways
that oppress, exploit, and dominate certain
segments of a population while privileging
others who hold power and wealth. When
violence is built into the structures of a society, some people are deprived of food, shelter, health care, and other resources that
are necessary for normal human growth
and development (Christie, 1997). In this
chapter, we look at structural violence in
the United States and give special attention
to the problems faced by women, children,
and minorities. We focus on policies that
support structural violence and then review
empowerment-based approaches designed
to mitigate structural violence.
In the United States, the problem of
structural violence is reflected in the gap be-

330

tween the rich and poor, a gap that is
greater in the United States than in most
other industrialized nations (Gottschalk &
Smeeding, in press). The discrepancy between the haves and have-nots is justified by
the myth of the "American Dream" which
implies that there is equal opportunity for
every individual to pursue wealth and happiness. It is implicit in the myth that those individuals who do not achieve this dream fail
to do so out of choice; they are lazy and
morally bankrupt, and therefore deserve
their fate.
Children in all societies have the least
voice, power, and control over their own
lives, and as such, are extremely vulnerable
to abuses in power relationships. When
poverty is introduced into the equation, the
results are often disastrous, and can take the

Redressing Structural Violence against Children

form of being forced to work in sweatshops,
or sold as sex slaves in some countries (Pilisuk, 1998). The United Nations Universal
Declaration of Human Rights proclaims
that "childhood is entitled to special care
and assistance" (United Nations General Assembly, 1989). Unfortunately, many poor
children are viewed as the troublesome byproducts of undeserving people, and not as
the result of the politics and economics of
structure-based inequalities in the way resources are distributed (Polakow, 1993).
Moreover, many so-called "interventions" to help those with few resources are
actually misuses of power, designed to elicit
desired outcomes from recipients which are
in accordance with the organization's interests and serve to substantiate the moral ideologies and mythologies of those in power
(Hasenfeld, 1992). For example, in the
United States, the "Welfare Reform" movement of the 1990s had the implicit assumption that a lack of personal responsibility
was the principal cause of poverty and
unemployment. Accordingly, interventions
were geared towards punishing or fixing
those individuals. This position, codified "in
the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act of 1996, ignored the underlying issues that perpetuate
the problem such as economic shifts away
from medium- and high-wage blue-collar
jobs, poor education, the lack of affordable
child care for the working-class and singleparent families, mental health problems,
and so on. Instead, the movement supported the government's agenda to cut aid
to the "undeserving" (American Psychological Association, 1998).
Even among those who receive human
services, there are social class differences.
Poorer clients tend to receive poorer services, whether the services are housing,
health care, education, or social services
(Hasenfeld, 1992), and they have little or

331

no real choice in the matter. In the following section, we examine injustices in the
human services sector.

STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE
IN HUMAN SERVICE SECTORS
Housing and
Homelessness
For many Americans, the word "homeless"
evokes a picture of a derelict and transient
male individual. In fact, children and families make up the fastest growing segment of
the homeless population. The typical homeless family of today consists of an unmarried,
20-year-old mother with one or two children
under the age of six. It is most probable that
she never completed high school and never
worked to support her children. There is a
one in five chance that she was in foster care
as a child. If that was the case, she is more
than twice as likely as other homeless mothers to have an open case of child abuse or neglect with a child welfare agency. Her children are three times more likely to be placed
in remedial education programs, and four
times more likely to drop out of school. Over
one-third of homeless families have an open
case for child abuse or neglect, and one in
five have lost at least one child to foster care.
Nearly half of homeless children have witnessed or been subjected to violence (Homes
for the Homeless, 1998).
The homeless are merely the "tip of the
iceberg" when it comes to the affordable
housing crisis. Housing conditions oflow-income families and children have worsened
over the past 25 years (Children's Defense
Fund, 1998). The cost of rents has increased
while income has declined. The ratio of
rent to income for low-income families has
increased in recent years. Although the U.S.
Department of Housing and Urban Development assumes that families should pay no

332
more than 30 percent of their income on
housing, many now spend well over 40 percent Poor families also spend a substantial
proportion of their meager incomes to pay
for child care, averaging between 17 and 32
percent of their total income (Bassuk,
Brown, & Buckner, 1996; Brooks & Buckner, 1996; Cherlin, 1995). When these two
proportions are taken together, it is readily
apparent that the money spent on housing and childcare significantly reduces the
amount of money left for meeting other
pressing basic needs such as food and clothing, and children pay the price. The lack of
adequate, affordable housing has serious
ramifications for children, and results in
homelessness, or the need to constantly
move from one dilapidated place to another. This, in turn, is related to poor
health, missed school and academic failure,
emotional damage, and the potential for
lead poisoning in older housing.
Despite this dire and worsening situation, low-income housing appropriations
have declined precipitously over the past 20
years. Seventy percent of the total federal
housing subsidy now goes, not to low-income renters, but to middle- and upperincome homeowners mostly in mortgage interest tax deductions. Some families may
qualify for federally-funded housing which
pays a portion of rent for families, but as
rents increase, so does the family's share of
cost. Also, some landlords will not accept
federally-funded renters, and the demand
for such housing always exceeds supply,
which results in waiting lists of two to three
years in some areas. This places landlords in
the position of being able to pick and
choose to whom they will rent Although
anti-discrimination laws exist, they are difficult to enforce and few poor families have
the time, energy, finances, or education
necessary to pursue a complaint. The situation has become a power-dependence rela-

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

tionship whereby families are forced to conform to the organization's expectations
(such as family size and exclusion of extended family) and interests in order to obtain necessary sernces, in this case housing.
Housing agencies may employ strategies designed to discourage use, including waiting
lists and intrusive intake procedures or rigid
eligibility requirements (Lorenzo & Adler,
1984; Parker & McDavis, 1989; Takeuchi,
Leaf, & Hsu-Sung, 1988). This may result in
engaging only the most motivated and resourceful clients, or alternately the most devious.

Health Care
Health care for the nation's five million
children and infants living in poverty has
been inadequate in the United States for
decades. According to a report released by
the National Center for Children in Poverty
(1991), poor children are more likely than
non poor children to be born too soon or
too small; to die in the first year of life; to
experience acute illness, injuries, lead poisoning, or child abuse or neglect; and to
suffer from nutrition-related problems and
chronic illnesses-many of which are preventable. The United States is the only
m,yor Western country without national
health insurance or a system of family allowances. In infant mortality, the United
States ranks seventeenth among Western
nations. The rate for Mrican Americans,
which is 17.6 per 100,000, is more similar to
the rate for individuals living in a Third
World country (O'Hare, Pollard, & Mann,
1991).

Education
Education has consistently has been the preferred strategy to eradicate poverty (Katz,
1994; also see Schwebel & Christie in this
volume). Unfortunately, the plight of poor

Redressing Structural Violence against Children

children, many of whom are ethnic and language minorities, is grim. A critical factor in
success for these children is the willingness
of various funding sources to invest in
education. The Department of Education
(1997) found that schools with the highest
proportion of poor children have markedly
fewer resources than schools that enroll
more affluent children. Schools serving
large numbers of poor children have fewer
books and supplies, and have teachers with
less training and lower average salliries.
In addition, schools in the poorest communities are also in the highest state of disrepair. Schools in central cities and those with
over 50 percent minority enrollment are
more likely than others to have insufficient
technology and unsatisfactory environmental conditions. Poor environmental conditions are associated with poorer academic
outcomes (Children's Defense Fund, 1998),
thus perpetuating the cycle of poverty.
Although the U.S. government has
stressed the importance of education for
the nation's workforce and for national
well-being ("Clinton reaffirms," 1997), the
new welfare law of the 1990s drastically limited the number of adult recipients who
could participate in education because the
law mandated a "work fIrst" policy (American Psychological Association, 1998). Although education has been and continues
to be one of the most secure routes out of
poverty, many of those in poverty will be required to take any available job, and therefore will have little likelihood of earning an
income sufficient to raise them out of
poverty. This position is in direct contrast to
studies which have demonstrated that empowering the poor through higher education improves not only their incomes and
job prospects, but also has a profound effect
on their children's overall development and
performance in school (American Psychological Association, 1998).

333

Child and Family Services
A large number of individuals and families
in the United States rely on the resources
and services of county departments of social
services to meet their daily basic needs for
shelter, food, clothing, and security. In accordance with the myth that the individual
alone is responsible for being in poverty,
public policy has tried to reduce poverty by
changing the behavior of poor people, and
has done little to address the reasons why so
many young healthy people (especially
women with children) are in poverty (Axinn
& Stern, 1988; Duncan, 1984).
A second myth is the pervasive belief
about the role and responsibility of elites
for supervising the behavior of the poor.
The assumption is that these helpless and
passive dependent people need the assistance of outsiders (in power) to lift them
out of poverty, and further, that they should
be grateful for this help.
These myths are compounded by a longstanding distinction between the "deserving" and "undeserving" poor. Historically,
the deserving poor fell into two classes:
clearly helpless and dependent people (e.g.,
the aged or infIrm), and those who were
rendered dependent through no fault of
their own, and were willing to work for the
amount of public support they might receive. The most deserving were widows who
kept their children clean, taught them manners, sent them to school, and were willing
to spend hours per day sewing or scrubbing
for tiny wages. The undeserving poor were
dependent because of their own lazy, irresponsible, and immoral behavior. Not only
did they burden the taxpayer but they
threatened the safety of others. Katz (1994)
argues that these themes resemble contemporary views of the underclass.
Agencies thus use their power to maintain and strengthen these historical inter-

334

ests in several ways, preferring clients who
represent the "desernng" poor and who reflect positively on evaluation criteria used by
key external legitimizing, political, and
funding bodies. Program success is frequently measured by the large number of
clients served (and graduated from the
agency) with the least amount of cost. In
this way, a homeless program may prefer
those individuals or families that are most
likely to quickly attain and maintain independence from the program. Hence, preference would be given to individuals without a psychiatric illness, drug and alcohol
condition, or physical handicap conditions
which might prolong their need and use of
the agency's resources. Unfortunately, in
this way the very conditions that increase
the most vulnerable population's need for
services are often used as a means to deny
or limit access to sernces. Clients with their
own power resources, particularly education
and income, are better able to obtain the
services they want and are more likely to influence the process to suit their needs and
interests (Hasenfeld, 1992). The agency naturally wants its clients to make successful
use of its resources; however, the result is a
system that favors those with more income
and education, while the most needy clients
are paradoxically bypassed.
The ability to choose, and the range of
available choices are the core of power. The
constriction of choices is at the core of
poverty. Persons with financial resources
and education are in a much better position
to obtain the sernces they want compared
to persons in poverty. Take, for example,
the case of a family whose child is removed
from the home and placed in foster care because of the parents' drug abuse. It would
not be unusual in this situation for the Department of Social Sernces to require the
parents to undergo drug testing, drug counseling, parenting classes, individual and
couples' therapy, and a series of supernsed

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

visits in order to reunify the parents with
their child. Parents with money and education are in a much better position to access
and pay for the sernces needed to fulfill the
reunification plan. They may choose and
pay for (or their employer may pay for)
their counselors and drug rehabilitation
programs, while their poverty-stricken counterparts must rely on sernces provided at a
low fee or at no cost. Low<ost sernces
are frequently underbudgeted and understaffed which often results in a waiting list
and/or restriction of sernces provided. It
may take the parents three or more months
to obtain sernces, which may result in their
loss of their opportunity to regain custody
of their child. The child may then become a
veteran of the system and be at significantly
higher risk for poverty him or herself.
Agencies are also structured to prefer
clients who conform to its historical moral assumptions about human behavior. For example, clients who are physically and emotionally capable of gainful employment, and who
are not encumbered by the need for child
care will likely experience greater success
under the new welfare reform law. When
agency goals are not met, welfare recipients
may be unfairly labeled as "lazy" ( i.e., undesernng poor) when in actuality the ongoing
stress and chaos of poverty combined with a
lack of resources may effectively prevent participation in a welfare-to-work program
(American Psychological Association, 1998).
Pelton (1978) has asserted that child
maltreatment is related to class, and that attempts to portray it as classless are motivated largely by two factors. A classless perspective supports psychodynamic medical
models which dissociate personal problems
from poverty, thereby locating the problem
intrapsychically. Second, an association of
child maltreatment with poverty makes it
appear to be a problem of the underclass,
and thus of less pressing concern to politicians and the middle class.

Redressing Structural Violence against Children

Denying association between poverty
and child maltreatment "undermines the
development of effective approaches to deal
with the real and difficult problems [of the
poor1, and directs us towards remedies
more oriented to the middle class· (Pelton,
1978, p. 614). This is a subtle but important
point. If researchers, teachers, theorists,
and students are convinced that child maltreatment is economically democratic in its
distribution, then new practice interventions are unlikely to be centered around
problems associated with poverty.
The close association between poverty
and child maltreatment suggests that the
most effective way to prevent child abuse
would be to reduce the numbers of families
in poverty. Thus, primary prevention efforts
might best target the underlying political,
social, and economic structures which perpetuate poverty (American Psychological Association, 1998). This philosophy is in keeping with a peace psychology approach to
counter structural violence (Christie, 1997;
Pilisuk,1998).

EMPOWERMENT: A PSYCHOLOGICAL
APPROACH TO STRUCTURAL CHANGE
The powerlessness that those in poverty experience is manifest in the lack of access to
resources that guarantee survival, reduce
suffering, and enable one to control one's
environment. Similar to the notion of
learned helplessness (Seligman, 1975), powerlessness is a process of alienation which
frequently becomes self-perpetuating, as the
poverty-stricken members of society come
to accept the power structure, externalize
their locus of control, and reduce their expectations of their quality of life accordingly
(Kroeker, 1995).
The concept of empowerment is based
on the assumption that the capacity of people to improve their lives is determined by

335
their ability to control their environment.
Zimmerman (1995) argues that empowerment involves individual and group efforts
to gain control over their own destinies, access to resources, and an understanding of
the sociopolitical context. This is a process
through which even poor families and children may obtain resources that would enable them to gain greater control over their
environment (Hasenfeld, 1992), and ensure
the satisfaction of basic needs. Implicit is a
responsibility to shift from a victim-blaming
person-centered focus of service delivery to
one that takes as its core activity and philosophy the formulation of policy and strategies to empower the impoverished segments
of society (Ryan, 1976). Interventions which
are empowerment-oriented focus on health
and wellness while at the same time focusing on remediating problems, and engaging
professionals as collaborators as opposed to
authoritative experts (Perkins & Zimmerman, 1995). For professionals, this entails
involving community members in the development, implementation, and evaluation of
interventions, as well as creating opportunities for community members to develop
skills which foster independence as opposed
to dependence upon the professional (Zimmerman, 1995). A thorough discussion of
the vast and growing empowerment literature is beyond the scope of this chapter.
Some critical issues and case studies which
demonstrate ideas and possibilities are
worth exploring, however.

Empowerment as a
Multilevel Construct
In the literature on empowerment, there is
an increasing understanding that empowerment is multilevel: affecting the individual,
the organization, the community, and possiblyeven the society at large. Moreover, the
four levels are interrelated in that psychological empowerment (including a sense of

336
personal responsibility and collective efficacy) may be a necessary condition for community and organizational empowennent
(Perkins, Brown, & Taylor, 1996), which are
the basis for societal empowennent, which
entails broad-based social and political
movements. At the same time, true grassroots movements (as opposed to "astroturf,"
or artificial, grassroots organizations) can
result in community, organizational, and individual empowennent (Kroeker, 1995; see
Wessells, Schwebel, & Anderson on psychology and public policy in this volume; also
see Dawes on liberation psychology in this
volume).

Individual and Family-level Empowerment. At the personal level, empowerment is focused on acquiring access to resources and increasing control. A goal for
the poverty-stricken segments of the population is to begin to meet their material needs
by obtaining housing, health care, education, and employment (Albee, Joffe, &
Dusenbury, 1988; Alinsky, 1946; Friere,
1970). However, while meeting material
goals is necessary, it is not sufficient for empowennent as it does not necessarily lead to
an increase in feelings of value, seif-efficacy,
and control (Kroeker, 1995).
Unfortunately, it is in this psychological
arena that many child and family services
organizations fall short of empowennent.
Liddie (1991) describes a program for lowincome mothers of children in an urban
day-care center which illustrates how a
group of mothers can increase their power,
control, and respect. In this program, mothers began to increase their sense of material
empowennent by establishing a food co-op,
and they later participated in a march to
protest day-care cuts. However, the mothers
felt oppressed by the staff at the day care,
and frequently complained about feeling
harassed by the staff's criticism of how their

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

children were dressed or their "unruly" behavior, and of their parenting skills in general. The mothers decided to request a
meeting with the staff in order to become
part of the decision-making process regarding their children's care at the center. The
results were remarkable in that not only
were the women able to induce changes in
staff attitudes, cooperation, and respect, but
their process served as a model for staff to
empower themselves and confront members of the administration regarding issues
related to service delivery. This is an excellent example of how individuals were able to
attain a sense of psychological empowerment that was not dependent upon the
beneficence of the organization, and they
were also able to alter the structure of the
agency so that it was more empowering to
its participants.
At the family level, one model of empowennent is family-centered seroice delivery
which includes family involvement and collaboration, a focus on family strengths, and
informed family choice including flexibility
and accessibility (Allen & Petr, 1998). In
fact, the movement came more from dissatisfied parents than from professionals. At
the organizational level, agencies adopting
a family-centered approach to service delivery must undertake thorough reviews of
their policies, procedures, and practices,
and modify them as necessary to comply
with the principles inherent in the model
(Friesen & Koroloff, 1990). Involvement of
consumers at all levels of decision-making is
essential to ensuring that program development and evaluation truly reflect the preferences of families, while also providing a
means of strengthening their sense of control and self-efficacy.

Organizational-level Empowerment.
At the organizational level, empowennent
focuses on changing belief systems, roles

Redressing Structural ViolE!nce against Children

and power relationships, support systems,
and leadership styles (Maton & Salem,
1995) of a group in order to increase its efficacy, self-sufficiency, and the legitimacy of
its members in the organization and/or society. A popular example of organizational
empowerment in education is Project Head
Start, which had from its inception a m;yor
goal of directly empowering poor communities, parents, and children through its philosophy on parent participation (Zigler &
Muenchow, 1992). Local centers were given
control over planning and operation, as
well as major hiring and firing decisions of
key personnel. In this way, the process of organizing themselves and sharing responsibilities, enhances psychological empowerment and facilitates societal empowerment
(Kroeker, 1995). But their variation and au:
tonomy also mean that Head Start represents organizational rather than societallevel empowerment.
Empowerment is also a focus of many
school-based parent involvement programs.
But to be successful, it is critical for such
programs to look beyond individual or family-level empowerment and work toward empowering organizational (school) or even institutional-level (e.g., school board) changes
(Gruber & Trickett, 1987).
Community-level
Empowerment.
Tremendous variation exists among communities in their levels of structural violence, coping resources, and resilience
(Wandersman & Nation, 1998). Thus, it
makes sense that there are a wide variety of
community-level empowerment strategies to
address local housing, health care, urban
and rural development, crime, environmental hazards, and other problems (Perkins,
1995; Perkins, Brown, & Taylor, 1996; Rich,
Edelstein, Hallman, & Wandersman, 1995).
For example, the Pacific Institute for Community Organizations (PICO) is a commu-

337
nity organizing network with organizations
in 25 cities across the United States. Speer
and Hughey (1995) argue that "PICO organizations strive to become capable of competing adeptly in their commlmity on issues
within their organizational self-interest" (p.
732). This is accomplished by forming coalitions in communities and gathering large
numbers of individuals to work together on
a common purpose. Speer and Hughey
(1995) describe an example in which a community organization discovered a financial
link between dilapidated housing structures
owned by absentee landlords and the local
department of social services. By researching funding sources, making public this discovery, and strategically applying public
pressure, the organization was able to demand that the housing be improved to comply with city building, fire, and health codes.
The community is an especially appropriate level at which to organize housing
programs geared toward empowering lowincome residents. A good example of this is
the "community household model" of limited equity co-op apartments that have
turned squalid, abandoned buildings in
some of the poorest and most distressed
neighborhoods in New York City into opportunities for home ownership and inspirational stories of individual, family, and
community empowerment (Saegert, 1989;
Saegert & Winkel, 1996). An even more surprising example is the organization of
unions of homeless people in cities all over
the United States (Yeich, 1996). These
demonstrate that even the most destitute
and disenfranchised among the poor can be
empowered to organize, educate, demonstrate, and advocate on their own behalf.
In recent years, empowerment-oriented
coalitions and partnerships for health promotion and substance-abuse prevention
have been organized across multiple communities in many cities and states. Fawcett

338
et al. (1995) identified at least 33 different
enabling activities conducted by such coalitions in support of community empowerment. However, it is especially important at
the community and coalition levels to make
sure that at the individual and organizational levels, empowerment is also occurring (McMillan, Florin, Stevenson, Kerman,
& Mitchell, 1995) and actual conditions are
improving. These coalitions operate at a
level between individual communities and
the whole society. This may well be the
widest practical level of empowerment intervention in the United States at present.

Societal-level Empowerment. Societal empowerment targets the larger social
structures and institutions that keep people
in positions of powerlessness and poverty,
and may be targeted in an effort to sustain
the other levels of empowerment and resolve problems associated with poverty
(Kroeker, 1995). Perkins (1995), however,
finds a clear pattern of co-optation of empowerment ideology, or at least language, at
the societal level of national and international policy-making, with little-ta-no
specificity regarding the meaning of empowerment and little-to-no impact on empowerment at other levels. But outside the
United States, more successful empowerment-based political and economic development programs which do manage to connect individuals, families, communities, and
local organizations with larger governmental and nongovernmental structures (Friedmann, 1992) may provide more promising
models for addressing structural violence in
any society.
Kroeker (1995) describes the Nicaraguan cooperative movement as a model
organization that grew out of principles of
empowerment. In the 1980s, severely disadvantaged peasants organized themselves
into more than 3,000 voluntary agricultural

Peace building: Approaches to Social Justice

cooperatives, which were later nationally encouraged by the government. The members
typically share a land deed, its work, responsibilities, and rewards. In turn, the cooperative provides various benefits including education, housing, and land for personal
farming in addition to occasional supplies
such as wood, fruit, milk, or meat. The Contra war weakened many cooperatives, but
they remained an integral and necessary component of the national economy.
Kroeker argues that the cooperatives fostered empowerment on the personal, organizational, and societal levels. They also addressed material needs such as jobs, food,
and housing, and facilitated autonomy
through collective land ownership. The
members chose and elected their own leadership, which allowed for direct participation in decision-making and increased
the sense of organizational empowerment.
Many cooperatives also participated in working with and challenging national institutions and policies, which afforded some a
sense of societal empowerment. Kroeker's
work also demonstrated, however, that local
and national relations, policies, and events
had a powerful influence, at times both enhancing and deterring the development of
empowerment. Implementation of any empowerment program must then, take these
elements into consideration when planning,
modifying, and evaluating the program.

RECOMMENDATIONS AND
CONCLUSIONS
Housing and
Homelessness
Psychologists and policy-makers must recognize that the primary causes of homelessness are not personal vulnerabilities, such as
mental illness or substance abuse. As important as those problems are to address, they

339

Redressing Structural Violence against Children

are merely selection factors determining
who will be homeless. The primary causes
are poverty and the scarcity of affordable
housing (Shinn, 1992). Ideally, housing services would go beyond the provision of shelter and include the education and training
that families need to build independent
lives, and to develop jobs which address the
serious lack of jobs for the unemployed,
possibly by increasing public sernces.
·Sweat equity," low-income limited equity
housing co-ops (Saegert & Winkel, 1996),
and other mechanisms for tenant control,
management, and ownership which have
proven to be a successful empowerment
strategy should be expanded. Families
should be encouraged to organize and define the boundaries of the family such that
if a family is caring for elderly parents, or
cousin, brother, or aunt they will not be
denied housing nor benefits on those
grounds, but on the contrary be rewarded
for their efforts, which ultimately reduce
the need for governmental sernces. Although low-income tenants and the homeless may be difficult to organize politically, it
is possible to do so (Yeich, 1996) and important to try so that they may develop a
greater sense of self worth and self-efficacy.

Health Care
Poverty remains the leading health risk for
children. Children in poverty are less likely to
receive annual check-ups, less likely to be current on their immunizations, and less likely to
receive health care when they are sick (National Center for Children in Poverty, 1991).
Clearly, all children should be ensured a regular source of ongoing health, mental health,
and social care. To that end, health care and
promotion programs should be decentralized, and efforts made to organize and support local collaborative partnerships of patients/ citizens, community leaders, health

care professionals, and researchers (Fawcett
et. al., 1995; McMillan et aI., 1995). The formation and expansion of local support and
information groups for specific health problems and self-help/mutual assistance referral
centers should be supported at the local,
state, and national levels.

Education
Empowerment strategies in the area of
education should aim to improve student
success, de-emphasize bureaucracies, and
emphasize the collaboration amongst professionals, parents, and the community towards the common goal of academic achievement for all children (Schorr, 1997). In this
spirit, schools should expand parental involvement programs and broad-based local
control of schools and school governance
in the manner of Head Start (Zigler &
Muenchow, 1992) and the Comer project
(Comer, 1993; Ramirez-Smith, 1995).
Funding should be increased so that
the mission of the educational setting can
be expanded to include after-school programs designed to help older children
"catch-up" to their appropriate grade-level,
help parents complete their GED (graduation equivalency), and provide poor families with on-site job training for job readiness and workplace skills. Schools are also
natural environments to house family literacy programs designed to foster literacy development for the entire family and stimulate family involvement in their children's
learning. Schorr (1997) argues that schools
have a prominent place in encouraging
school, family, and community collaboration to promote the success of all children,
but that the burden cannot rest solely on
schools for initiation and success, and thus
neighborhood and family involvement and
responsibility are essential.

340
Finally, time limits on welfare for adults
should be flexible to accommodate those
adults who are actively enrolled in job training and educational services which will provide them with long-term self-sufficiency.
Caseworkers should be allowed flexibility in
making decisions about eligibility in this regard (American Psychological Association,
1998).

Child and Family Services
The National Commission on Children
(1991) concluded that the current child and
family welfare system was essentially a frustrating and ineffective system for children
and families. Child and family welfare services clearly need to be developed in ways
that support the self-determination of the individual, family, and community by including educational opportunities for both children and families, as well as the provision of
culturally relevant and proven psychological
interventions to prevent spousal and child
abuse, and substance abuse. To promote this
ideal, linkages should be established between various agencies which promote the
integration of services and which serve to
decrease the disempowering bureaucratic
maze which functions as an obstacle for access to services for families with multiple
needs (American Psycololgical Association,
1998). A focus on a community orientation
which promotes comprehensive neighborhood-based partnerships between child protective agencies, community agencies, and
local foster parent associations to support
troubled families and protect children may
be particularly empowering, cost-effective,
and may also minimize trauma for children
(Schorr, 1997).

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

Standards for the training of social workers and caseworkers should be expanded beyond the "traditional" model of social work
towards a model which focuses on integrating cultural diversity, family strengths and
empowerment in the best interests of the
child and preservation of the family.
Finally, families need more control
under welfare reform and should have access to grievance and appeals processes
which are timely and responsive, and which
provide due process guarantees.
Lawmakers and officials who write rules
and regulations need to work to ensure that
family-centered principles based upon empowerment are integrated into new laws
and programs. The degree of family choice
and of focus on family strengths operative
in a policy, service, or program should be
key components in the evaluation of the
success of family-centered practice. Communities must also be taken into consideration, as they have profound influence on
families and children, and, if organized, developed, and empowered, can be valuable
resources to lead efforts to fulfIll a broad vision of health, education, and equity for disadvantaged young children and families.
Structural violence operates at every
level of society and so demands a multi-level
solution. Truly empowering strategies are
not easy to implement well. And everyone
involved in empowerment programs-participants, staff, administrators, and evaluators-must be careful not to substitute perceived gains in empowerment for real
material gains in people's lives (Saegert &
Winkel, 1996). But empowerment strategies
represent perhaps the only solution that explicidy addresses the structural aspects of violence at every level in which it occurs.

CHAPTER 29

GENDERING PEACEBUILDING
Susan McKay and Cyan Mazurana

This chapter introduces the reader to characteristics of gendCTed thinking, its neglect
within psychology and peace psychology,
and discusses how peacebuilding as commonly defined lacks a gender perspective.
We argue that feminist analysis contributes
to a more comprehensive meaning of peacebuilding than a non-gendered analysis. We
describe results of our research on women's
international peacebuilding initiatives, underscoring the emphases women give to psychosocial processes such as healing, reconciliation, and cooperation. We characterize
distinct ways women build peace at grassroots (local) levels and within nongovernmental organizations (NGOs). Finally, we
discuss the United Nations (U.N.) Platform
for Action which is an important global feminist document that provides important directions for women's peacebuilding.

FEMINIST PERSPECTIVES
IN PEACE PSYCHOLOGY
Gendered thinking, which considers the
perspectives and behaviors of both men and
women, has not characterized psychology in
general or peace psychology in particular.
Gendering peace psychology means that peace
psychology has not, in the past, been sufficiently conscious of gender biases, biases de-

rived from the predominance of men's
thinking and perspectives. Therefore the
discipline has patriarcha~ or male-biased, assumptions and perspectives that need to be
challenged through incorporation of feminist perspectives and thinking (McKay,
1996).
Gendered thinking illuminates similarities and also substantial differences between
male and female perspectives. An example
of how thinking about war and peace is not
sufficiently gendered is the following: Think
about who is injured and who dies during
wars-who comes to mind? Most people,
both men and women, follow patriarchal
thought by identifying combat soldiers who
are mostly men. In fact, the predominant
casualties of today's wars, estimated to be as
high as 95 percent, are civilians-the majority of whom are women and children (Levy
& Sidel, 1997; U.N., 1996a). Another example occurs when thinking about who are
peacemakers and peacebuilders during and
after conflicts. Many people have images
from popular media of high-profile political
male figures such as George Mitchell forging the May 1998 peace accords in Northern Ireland, or of U.N. Secretary-General
Kofi Annan, who has been instrumental in
peace negotiations in 1998 in Eritrea,
Ethiopia, and Iraq. Far fewer know of instru-

341

342
mental women peacemakers and peacebuilders such as Hanan Ashwari (1995) of
Palestine who has been a leading spokeswoman for brokering peace in the Middle
East, or Monica McWilliams of Northern
Ireland who founded the Northern Ireland
Women's Coalition (NIWC). Nor do people
often imagine the multiple venues in communities and nations in which women act to
build sustainable peace. Women have long
been integrally involved in peacemaking
and peacebuilding processes (see Bennett,
Bexley, & Warnock, 1995; Cock, 1993; EIBushra & Mukarubuga, 1995; Enloe, 1993;
Sharoni, 1994; U.N., 1996a; Utting, 1994).
Their activities at community and regional
levels are extensive and often within the
aegis of NGOs and grassroots (local)
women's organizations.
Feminism is an ideology that purports
men and women are of equal value and
their equality should be recognized by all
societies (Reardon, 1990). This point of
view recognizes that women throughout the
world suffer from sex-based discrimination
or sexism. Feminism seeks to challenge the
dynamic of domination at all levels, from
the home to the military, and to demand
a world based more on cooperation than
on conquest (Bunch, 1987). For example,
feminist peace theorist Birgit Brock-Utne
(1989) incorporates gender perspectives in
her definitions of positive and negative
peace. Thus authentic peace and security
require positive peace, a society in which
there is no indirect or structural violence
such as gender inequality. Negative peace occurs when personal, physical, and direct violence such as armed conflict, rape, and
spousal battering are absent. Peace psychologists share with feminists their concern for
authentic peace and security for all humans,
a focus infrequently found in governmental
and intergovernmental definitions of security, which typically are framed within the

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice
limits of states' boundaries and interests
(McKay, 1996).

A Critical Analysis of Peacebuilding
Feminist analysis looks at the world by gathering and interpreting information through
the eyes and experiences of women as subjects. It separates itself from a patriarchal
world view and the constraints of male-dominated theoretical analyses (young, 1992),
seeking to explain the importance of
women's oppression in terms of their unequal status in society at large. In terms of
women's peacebuilding, feminist analysis identifies women's specific concerns about peacebuilding, approaches peacebuilding from
women's perspectives, welcomes pluralistic
voices and diverse methods. Using feminist
analysis, critical questions are asked about
peace building such as: what does building
peace mean to women across cultures? Who
are the women talking about peacebuilding? Do their perspectives and practices
about peace building coincide with definitions of the United Nations, states, or
NGOs? A question of particular interest to
feminist peace psychologists is to what extent do the United Nations, various States,
NGOs, and grassroots organizations emphasize in their peacebuilding human processes
such as reconciliation and restoration of relationships, as compared with institutional
and structural rebuilding? (Mazurana &
McKay, 1999).
To build peace requires visioning the
components of peace and security across
cultures, nationalities, ethnicities, and between men and women. There is no unitary
construct caIled "peacebuilding" to which
everyone subscribes. Governmental, U.N.,
NGO, and grassroots organizations often
have widely differing notions of peacebuilding. One of the most commonly-referenced
definitions of peace building is that of for-

Gendering Peace building

mer U.N. Secretary-General Boutros-Ghali
whose An Agmda for Peace (U.N., 1992) has
become a pivotal document to describe U.N.
meanings of peacekeeping, peacemaking,
and peacebuilding. In it, peacebuilding is
defined as occurring in post-conflict societies: "rebuilding the institutions and infrastructures of nations torn by civil war and
strife and building bonds of peaceful
mutual benefit among nations fonnedy at
war" (U.N., 1992, p. 8). Most peace operations of U.N. states and NGOs focus upon
peacekeeping, peacebuilding, and providing humanitarian aid. Peacebuilding within
women's grassroots groups emphasizes relational behaviors, reconciliation and healing of psychological wounds (Mazurana &
McKay, 1999).
The remainder of this chapter describes
women's peacebuilding approaches within
international grassroots groups and NGOs
and uses data we have gathered and analyzed (Mazurana & McKay, 1999). We stress
women's meanings of peacebuilding and
peacebuilding work they do. We emphasize
some distinct approaches of women, especially at grassroots levels. Importantly,' to
avoid imposing Western thinking about
what constitutes peacebuilding, we stress
recognizing culturally-specific views and
methods of peacebuilding within and between various women's groups.

WOMEN'S GRASSROOTS
PEACEBUILDING
The real work of peacebuilding requires
that local people seek solutions in their
communities, regions, and nations rather
than outsiders imposing their approaches.
Grassroots women's peace groups tend to
center peacebuilding actions upon nonviolence; recognition of, and respect for,
human rights; promotion of intercultural
tolerance and understanding; and women's

343
empowennent in economic, social, cultural
and political spheres. Women's full participation is stressed in all these processes.
Grassroots women's groups may involve
themselves in peacemaking and peacebuilding because of concerns for their families'
survival and knowledge that women and
children are the primary casualties of indirect and direct violence during anned conflict. They emphasize the centrality of psychosocial (psychological responses situated
within the context of community) and basic
human needs, such as food, shelter and
safety, far more than governmental organizations, NGOs, and the United Nations usually do (Mazurana & McKay, 1999). For
many grassroots women's groups, peacebuilding means securing food for the family
and a future for children (Susanne Thurfjell, personal communication, November 4,
1997). Issues of structural violence such as
the economics of poverty and the degradation of the environment are of primary concern for many grassroots women.
Women's grassroots peacebuilding is
frequently personal, interpersonal, creative
and political. It may use imaginative activities to protest violence and advocate peace
such as the wearing of black to protest violence, employing street theater, holding
demonstrations, vigils, peace camps, and
peace walks. In some instances where the
most creative approaches are employed,
conditions are very dangerous. For example, the Women in Black in Belgrade (former Yugoslavia) demanded accountability
and an end to violence, protesting when no
other groups dared (Cynthia Enloe, personal communication,January 24, 1998).
Grassroots women's group often work
through networks and coalitions whereby
women meet to strategize, gain energy, and
push for peace at regional and global levels.
Above all, grassroots peace building is practical. It may mean stopping the fighting, and

344
women's groups may organize towards this
aim. The Sudanese Women's Voice for
Peace, for example, is made up of women
from the warring factions in the North and
South, seeking solutions to women's and
men's violence (United Nations Development Fund for Women/Mrican Women in
Crisis [UNIFEM/AFWIC], 1995).
The rationale for grassroot women's organizing is often based on beliefs that
women are by nature-often because they
are mothers-more caring, peaceful, and
nonviolent (Le., Agosin, 1993; Ruddick,
1982, 1990; Women for Life Without Wars
and Violence!, 1996). We contend that there
is nothing inherently (biologically) more
peaceful about women than men although
women may be socially conditioned to exhibit more peaceful qualities. Patriarchy
works through various race, ethnic, and
class lines, religions, and nationalism to encourage and involve women in violence.
History has shown women are often essential to the perpetration of violence, and they
have acted to support and encourage it (i.e.
Afkhami, 1995; Mrican Rights, 1995; Basu,
1993; Cock, 1992; Enloe, 1988, 1993; Human Rights Watch/Asia Watch, 1993).

Women's Spiritual Beliefs
and Grassroots Peacebuilding
Both secular and religious women's groups
work for peace at the grassroots level. The
role of churches in preventing and ameliorating the effects of destructive conflict is significant because churches are frequently well
placed to mediate conflict and advocate for
peace. Churches are close to local communities and understand the human costs of conflicts. They may have more resources than
NGOs. Also, their personal contacts are important-for example, newsletters, pastoral
sermons and visits, and often they are a public site of gathering and strength for women.
Because spiritual beliefs ofwomen's religious

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

peacebuilding groups are a foundation for
their actions, activities to promote forgiveness
and reconciliation are often emphasized. Despite this, in their peacebuilding work, women's religious groups frequently critique patriarchal behaviors fostered by religion, such
as the domination of women by men within
the church hierarchy. Similarly, secular women's peacebuilding groups may critique
patriarchal practices perpetuating the war
system.

Reconciliation
Grassroots women's organizations, whether
religious or secular, often emphasize reconciliation although their foci may differ. spiritual reconciliation, a "change of heart," emphasizes atonement and forgiveness. In
contrast, secular reconciliation more often emphasizes justice, a key issue for women who
seek gender justice through the prosecution
of perpetrators and the acknowledgment of
governments' wrongdoing because of rapes,
sexual slavery, and other forms of violence
against women. For instance, grassroots
groups have worked for gender justice in
the aftermath of massive rapes that occurred in the 1990s during the war in the
former Yugoslavia and, for several decades,
have sought redress and apology from the
Japanese government for the sexual slavery
of Korean women during World War II
(McKay, 1999).
Reconciliation includes bringing together former enemies to make peace,
learning to coexist in peace, and defusing
enemy imaging. Women's grassroot groups
often play instrumental roles. In Mali, East
Africa, for example, the national Women's
Movement for Securing Peace and National
Unity (MNFPUN) organized meetings of
military officers, high-level politicians, and
diplomats. The eventual result was the 1991
National Pact to stop the war. Women
worked to humanize the face of the conflict

Gendering Peacebuilding

by emphasizing the situation of victims.
They also served as mediators. More recently, women have sought to diffuse tensions between various ethnic groups, in particular, encouraging local women to take
pro-active roles in conflict prevention. A
major objective has been making women's
concerns a priority at the national level and
increasing women's numbers within the National Assembly as well as strengthening
their effective participation (International
Fellowship of Reconciliation, 1998).
In Burundi, Mrica, with the sponsorship
of a United States-based peace group, Search
for Common Ground, a women's peace center was established iIiJanuary 1995. The goal
of the center, where typically 200 Hutu and
Tutsi women visit weekly, was to reduce ethnic
conflict, encourage reconciliation, and establish a cadre of women trainers in conflict resolution methods. Hutu and Tutsi women have
met there to work on common goals, and the
Center has served as a resource on gender issues. It has organized round tables to promote
coordination and collaboration among various women's groups. Additionally, support
has been provided for local women's groups
and women in displaced camps (International
Fellowship of Reconciliation and International Peace Bureau, 1997).

Militarism
Within grassroots women's peace organizations, a persistent theme is the issue of militarism and its effects. Militarism refers to
processes through which individuals, groups,
and social, economic, and political systems
increasingly become reliant upon, or dominated by the military (Enloe, 1993). Grassroots women have organized to ameliorate
the effects of militarism such as domestic violence, violence against women, sex trafficking, and degradation of the environment.
Further they act to bring attention to concerns such as the global proliferation of

345

light anns, militarization of children's toys
and games, difficulties in reintegrating excombatants into their societies-particularly
child-soldiers-and land demining (IFOR,
1998; Rebera, 1992).
An effort to combat militarism and promote peace occurred with the gathering of
a Christian Conference of Asian Women's
Concerns when women from many countries in the region gathered to document
and analyze violence in their societies, particularly in the form of militarism. Together
they discussed methods based on past and
future work about how to best move towards
cultures of peace (Rebera, 1992). Other examples are women's peace groups in Algeria, Chile, and the Philippines, which have
asked for the voluntary dumping of war
toys. The groups have held ceremonial
burnings. have buried these destructive
toys, and have worked to help children reject games of torture and violence (Agosin,
1993; Rebera, 1992). Women in the Russian Federation and their cowiterparts in
Chechenya have challenged militaries' practice of forced conscription. Organized as a
Committee of Soldiers' Mothers, they have
hidden, lied about, and physically resisted
the forced conscription of their sons in
Chechenya. They also have pressured the
Russian government for a nonviolent solution to the conflict, challenged the military
authority of the State, and demanded radical reform of the Russian Army (Women for
Life Without Wars and Violence!, 1996).

Women's Participation
in Decision-making
Another focus of some grassroot women's
peace groups has been to increase women's
numbers and strengthen their effective participation in decision-making bodies. These
efforts are deemed critical to enhancing
women's peacebuilding initiatives and capacities for achieving a just peace. The sim-

348

pIe presence of women in international, regional, or national decision-making bodies
is not, however, likely to have an impact
without recognition of causes and processes
of women's disempowerment and ways in
which diverse women are oppressed. This
knowledge must be followed by actions that
facilitate women's empowerment. For example, the Burmese Women's Union was
formed in 1995 by female students in
Burma (now called Myanmar) to promote
women's voices in politics, increase the
recognition and practice of women's human rights, and prompt women's voices in
building peace and democracy (IFOR &
IPB,1997).

Stopping Violence in the Home
A U.S.-based grassroots woman-led organization, Peace Links, works to empower local
people toward achieving and sustaining
peace through nonviolent forms of conflict
resolution and violence prevention in their
families, communities, nations and world. Although the United States is not characterized
by open warfare, structural and direct violence-especially violence against womenis widespread (Schuler, 1992). Western
countries, too, must analyze ways in which violence occurs in their own homes and societies, and their countries' perpetuation of violence on others and also actively engage in
peacebuilding. Thus initiatives by organizations such as Peace Links to address violence
in the United States are also essential to
peace building.

NONGOVERNMENTAL
ORGANIZATIONS AND
PEACEBUILDING
Nongovernmental groups often work in
conjunction with local grassroots movements or they may involve themselves at

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

multiple levels from international to local.
NGOs, because of their linkages to both
grassroots groups, governmental, and U.N.
bodies have important potential for influencing peace building, particularly through
the formation of coalitions. NGOs at local levels (as compared with international
NGOs) have grassroots knowledge of the
psychological dimensions of conflicts, and
they possess know-how for local conflict resolution. NGOs thus can be pivotal agents facilitating the capacities of locals to build
peace, and these are often women.

Coaltition Building
One of the ways NGOs are most effective is
through building coalitions, thus linking resources of States, the United Nations, and
civil society (Kunugi, Boulding, & Oberg,
1996). Peace researcher Elise Boulding
(1993) observed that in order for peacebuilding to be viable it must have roots in
local peace concerns and the often-invisible
peace culture of family, neighborhood, and
community. Thus, peacebuilding should
not be a process only supporting those in
power but must empower ordinary people.
Further, although governments can speed
up peace processes, they do not invent
them; local people do (Boulding, 1993).
In coalition building, the process of
building peace is emphasized more than are
specific outcomes. Peacebuilding is thus approached as a dynamic and complex process
made up of roles, function, and activities and
involving interactions of many actors with
varying skills (Lederach, 1995a; Lederach,
1995b). Unfortunately, what may happen is
outside donor organizations (for example,
international NGOs and humantarian aid
programs) establish product-oriented agendas that tend to control peace building
agendas. These organizations initiate little
consultation with local goverments and

Gendering Peacebuilding

people; that is, they eschew networking and
coalition building (UNRISD, 1994). Since
women so often work through networks and
coalitions, their initiatives can consequently
be marginalized when NGOs' "outcome
agendas" overshadow emphasis on peacebuilding processes.
An example of coalition building occurred when NGOs came together with governmental and intergovernmental organizations and the United Nations during a 1997
networking meeting sponsored by the Peace
Team Forum of the Swedish Peace Council
and the Swedish Ministry for Foreign Mfairs. Invited representatives of nearly 40 international and national NGOs and government officials ·from ten countries, the
European Union, and the United Nations,
convened at a conference on "GovernmentNGO Relations in Preventing Violence:
Transforming Conflict and Building Peace"
(Consortium on Peace Research, Education
and Development [COPRED], 1997).

Women's NGO Peacebuilding
A limited number of NGOs are starting 'to
develop programmatic focus on how they
can facilitate women's peacebuilding. An
important challenge to NGOs engaged in
peacebuilding is to more thoroughly integrate gendered thinking into their." work
and recognize the critical importance of
psychosocial processes, such as healing
from trauma and relationship building, as
integral to effective peacebuilding initiatives. Other NGOs have always focused
upon women and peace. For example, the
Women's International League for Peace
and Freedom (WILPF) links issues of peace
with women's oppression, inequality, and
empowerment. Founded in 1915, its activities are global in scope. WILPF has long advocated for women's fuller participation in
all stages of peace processes and negotia-

347
tions. Another woman-focused NGO is the
Centre for Strategic Initiative for Women
(CSIW) which, in addition to its original
human rights emphasis, has extended its
mission to include women's leadership roles
in peacebuilding.

Other NGO Contributions
to Peacebuilding
In addition to fostering activism and coalition building, NGOs can be influential in
supporting research, policy development
and capacity building. In Canada, the International Development Research Centre
(IDRC) is an autonomous (NGO) Canadian
organization created by the Parliament of
Canada. IDRC's perspective is that research
on and for peacebuilding can play a catalytic role in facilitating processes of dialogue, consensus and coalition building,
and policy development; it supports country-specific, regional and global projects. In
1996 IDRC established its Peacebuilding and Reconstruction Program Initiative
(PBR PI). The PBR PI focuses on developmental challenges of post-conflict societies.
Emphasizing that gender is integral, all
IDRC-funded research must consider the
differential impact change will have on the
lives of both men and women. Also, gender
mainstreaming, that is "thinking gender"
about every program and project, is supported in all of the programs of the Centre.
An NGO that fosters action research in
peacebuilding is Life and Peace Institute
(LPI), based in Uppsala, Sweden. Founded
by the Swedish Ecumenical Council, its
principal aim is to support the work of
churches in the fields of peace, justice and
reconciliation. LPI views the central process
of both conflict transformation and peacebuilding as empowering people within societies affected by conflict so they become
owners of the peace process. LPI asserts that

348

peace must be grown from inside if it is to
be sustainable. Its extensive peace building
work in Somalia had as one emphasis the
empowerment of women, within a broader
aim of enabling women and men to work
together for a new and peaceful Somali society (Heinrich, 1997). Although women
in Somalia do not have prominent decision-making and public affairs roles or
equal access to education, health sernces,
and economic resources, they do play crucial roles in managing conflict and building peace. An aim of LPI was to support
women in these new and often difficult
roles-for example as mediators between
clans and in reestablishing communication
between hostile groups. Thus LPI stressed
capacity building for women, such as giving support to women members of local
administrative councils and sponsoring
workshops that focused upon topics such
as conflict transformation, peace and justice, human rights issues, leadership roles,
and democracy.
Jerusalem Link is an NGO consisting of
Israeli and Palestinian women who work for
peace at the grassroots level. Activities are
organized around several m.yor areas:
human rights education and advocacy,
peace education, dialogue groups of Israeli
and Palestinian women, youth and young
women making peace, and the engagement
of women political leaders on both sides.
Most activities are joint efforts, but sometimes they are conducted for either Palestinian or Israeli women. One project ofJerusalem Link is a media campaign. Jerusalem
Link has recognized the critical role domestic and international media play in shifting
public opinion and has published petitions
and joint letters, focusing upon both print
and electronic media. Significantly, ability
to access and use electronic media is critical
for women's effectiveness in peacebuilding

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice
and is increasingly a focus of international
attention.

THE U.N. PLATFORM FOR ACTION'S
[PFA) IMPACT UPON WOMEN'S
PEACEBUILDING
The PFA, adopted in Beijing, China by the
Fourth World Conference on Women on September 15, 1995 with the consensus of 181 nations, provides a blueprint of peacebuilding
actions for many global women's coalitions
and networks (McKay & Wmter, 1998; United
Nations, 1996b). Many sections of the PFA address issues of cenlIp.\ importance to peace psychologists-violence against women, women
and the environment, women and the media,
and human rights of women, to name a few.
The PFA is of substantial interest to feminist
peace psychologists because of its identified
strategies that can be used by men and women
throughout the world to improve the status of
the world's women. The PFA places emphasis
on ending direct violence and also on seeking
to ameliorate structural (indirect) violence so
that societies are transformed to more equitable and peaceful ones. A section on women
and armed conflict and women's initiatives to
build more peaceful societies emphasizes nonviolence, equality between women and men,
gender justice, recognition and honoring of
women's human rights, reduction in military
expenditures and international trade, trafficking in and proliferation of weapons, women's
contributions as peace educators and in fostering a culture of peace, cooperative approaches
to peace and security with women's participation in power structures, and women's involvement in all efforts to prevent and resolve conflicts (United Nations, 1996b). The PFA is a
guiding document for many grassroots and
NGO women's organizations that do peacebuilding.

Gendering Peacebuilding

CONCLUSION
In this chapter we have presented examples
of ways women build peace and some distinct approaches they may use. Women's
peacebuilding may be informed by views of
"natural peacefulness," religious beliefs, a
mother's sense of responsibility to protect
her family, or analyses which connect militarism with violence.
Information about women's best practices of peacebuilding is not yet well known.
This is because learning about women's
peacebuilding has not been viewed with
much interest by governmental and nongovernmental organij!:ations or researchers.
Also, because local women often work without recognition and use indigenous methods, they have been marginalized. Their actions converge on some issues, such as
increasing women's presence in decisionmaking bodies. Women's initiatives are also
divergent, reflecting particular cultural, his-

349
torical and material contexts. Importantly,
through their peacebuilding practices,
women are pushing "acceptable" gendered
practices and spaces, and often they bring
women together from diverse backgrounds
and classes to work to end violence and
build peace.
We believe that women's peacebuilding
practices can be of particular interest to
peace psychologists because women emphasize processes such as relationship building,
reconciliation, cooperation, and networking
and other intrapersonal and interpersonal
processes. A challenge for peace psychologists for the twenty-first century is to inc~r­
porate gendered thinking into scholarship
and practice. This will require evaluating patriarchal biases with respect to the acquisition and use of psychological knowledge but
will substantially enrich peace psychology'S
knowledge base and practice.

CHAPTER 30

PSYCHOLOGISTS MAKING A DIFFERENCE
IN THE PUBLIC ARENA:
BUILDING CULTURES OF PEACE
Michael Wessells, Milton Schwebel, and Anne Anderson

Inevitably, analyses of peace and social justice raise practical questions about what can
be done. Left unanswered, these questions
invite hopelessness and feelings of futility
about changing a world grown accustomed
to a culture of war. In this chapter, we offer
a framework for action and identify four
specific venues for action on a wide basis:
sensitization, consultation, activism, and policy work. We also attempt to situate our
ideas in historic context and to raise critical
consciousness about work in the public
arena. Through ongoing critical review of
their work, peace psychologists help to ensure that their actions in the public arena
embody the values they seek to nourish in
the world.
Throughout the twentieth century, psychologists of many different orientations
have worked in the public arena for peace.

350

Early on, William James (1910/1995), the
philosopher-psychologist, advocated that
since war meets human needs for heroism,
sacrifice, and excitement, those who seek
peace must construct nonviolent, morally
acceptable outlets for those needs. In 1945,
near the end of World War II, psychologists
such as Gordon Allport and E. C. Tolman
distributed publicly a statement on human
nature that underscored the preventability
ofwar Uacobs, 1989). During the Cold War,
psychologists such as Ralph White, Herbert
Kelman, Morton Deutsch, and Brewster
Smith suggested psychologically informed
policies for reducing superpower tensions
and the threat of nuclear war. Charles Osgood's (1962) suggestion of GRIT (Graduated Reciprocal Initiatives in Tension
Reduction) may even have encouraged
President Kennedy to unilaterally propose a

Psychologists Making a Difference in the Public Arena: Building Cultures of Peace
ban on atmospheric nuclear testing in 1963
Uacobs, 1989).
Although some have viewed work for
peace as something to be done "after hours"
and as citizens, others have made cogent arguments that work to advance human wellbeing in the public arena is a matter of
professional responsibility. Alfred Adler, for example, saw social responsibility as "fundamental to the practice of psychology" (Rudmin & Ansbacher, 1989, p. 8), saying, in
1935 that
The honest psychologist cannot shut his
[sic] eyes to social conditions which prevent
the child from be!=oming part of the community and from feeling at home in the
world, and which allow him to grow up as
though he lived in enemy country. Thus psychologists must work against nationalism
when it is so poorly understood that it harms
mankind as a whole; against wars of conquest, revenge, and prestige, against unemployment which plunges people into hopelessness; and against all other obstacles
which interfere with the spreading of social
interest in the family, the school, and society
at large. (Adler, 1935/1956, p. 454)

These brief examples provide an historical context for considering the evolving challenges and opportunities that peace psychologists encounter in their work in the public
arena. In the past, particularly during the
Cold War, peace researchers and practitioners have frequently reacted to problems such
as the nuclear threat, environmental destruction, or whichever current war happened to
be most devastating. Reactive approaches, although often necessary, can neither address
effectively the root causes of war nor transform the war system into a peace system.
Building peace requires prevention and
long-term, proactive work (Christie, 1997;
Wagner, de Rivera, & Watkins, 1988) for
changing cultures of violence into cultures of
peace (Adams, 1995; Galtung, 1996). Even

351

short-term reactive responses to particular
crisis situations can prove to be more effective if they have been chosen within the
framework of building positive peace.

THE CULTURES OF
PEACE FRAMEWORK
A useful description for positive peace has
been adopted by the U.N. General Assembly. Recognizing the long term nature of
the work, the U.N. General Assembly (Resolution 52/15) declared the year 2000 as the
International Year for the Culture of Peace.
Broadly, cultures of peace include seven core
elements that vary in form across cultures,
yet are universals of positive peace. These
elements may be envisioned as spokes of a
wheel, a weakness in anyone of which may
produce systemic weakness or collapse. The
elements are:

• Social justice: institutionalized equity in
distribution and access to material, social, and political resources; truthtelling, reparations, and penalties for
infractions; full participation and powersharing by different groups; gender justice and full participation by women;

• Human rights: rule of law and adherence
to human rights standards;

• Nonviolence: institutionalized arrangements for nonviolent conflict resolution
and reconciliation; values and attitudes
of civility; norms and processes that promote human security, cooperation, interdependence, and harmonious relationships at all levels;
• Inclusiveness: respect for difference; participation by different groups; meeting
identity needs; cultural sensitivity;

• Civil society: strength and diversity of civic
groups in sectors such as health, business, religion, and education; commu-

352
nity action, support, and hope through
these venues; full citizen participation in
government;
• Peace education: formal and informal, experiential education for peace at all levels; socialization of values, attitudes,
and behaviors conducive to peace and
social justice.
• Sustainahility: preservation of global resources; meeting the needs of the current generation without compromising
the ability to meet the needs of future
generations.
Psychologists may contribute to the construction of cultures of peace through work
at many levels. Therapists who help to reduce family violence and to build equitable,
nonviolent relationships in families contribute to cultures of peace. Educators who
teach skills of nonviolent conflict resolution
or work for social justice at the community
level also contribute to the construction of
cultures of peace. Ultimately, however,
large-scale, systemic social change is needed
to build cultures of peace. To be maximally
effective, psychologists may take their work
into the public arena, reaching larger numbers of people, constructing social policies
that help institutionalize social justice and
end oppression, and enlarging the potential
scale on which they can m~e a difference
in effecting peace and social justice.
Although many peace psychologists recognize the potential benefits and importance of work in the public arena, numerous concerns limit their involvement. Many
feel overwhelmed by the vast number of issues and the complexity involved in producing large-scale change. Many feel helpless
and uncertain about how one can make a
difference. In addition, multifaceted issues
of peace and social justice require multidisciplinary work, which exceeds the specialized training of many psychologists. Fur-

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

ther, psychologists may worry that by working in the public arena on political issues,
they may politicize the discipline and damage its credibility, fall prey to role confusion, or go beyond what is known or what
can legitimately be said on scientific
grounds (Suedfeld & Tetlock, 1992).
Although complex, these questions
should neither block action nor lead one to
forget that inaction itself is a choice that has
profound implications. Nowhere is this
more apparent than in regard to issues of
science and the practice of psychology.

SCIENCE, VALUES, AND ACTION
Science and Values
Although science has often been portrayed
as an objective, value-neutral enterprise, it is
suffused with the values of a dominant
order that has institutionalized war and injustice. For researchers to raise questions
about the adverse effects of the nuclear
arms race during the height of the Cold
War was to risk being labeled "unpatriotic."
The neutrality myth fails to consider that it
is people and social agencies who set the research agendas, which are socially constructed and inherently value-laden. Which
questions seem most important to ask and
which problems one chooses to address reflect societal values. Further, science often
tracks funding, and in the United States following World War II, over half the funding
for scientific research came from defenserelated sources (Melman, 1985). Resource
allocation for scientific research is guided
by societal values, in this case a dominant
social order that institutionalized war,
drained resources away from peaceful activities designed to meet basic human needs,
and caused much pollution and environmental damage (McKenzie-Mohr & Winter,
1992). It is not a question, then, whether

Psychologists Making a Difference in the Public Arena: Building Cultures of Peace

values will influence psychological research
but rather which values and whose values.
Consistent with the cultures of peace
framework outlined above, peace psychology embraces values associated with nonviolence, human rights, and social justice.
However, peace psychology is not inherently more value-laden than other areas of
psychology, though it may appear to be so
by virtue of its explicit emphasis on peace
and its opposition to the values of the dominant war system. Nor is peace psychology inherently pacifist. Some peace psychologists
believe that a commitment to building a
nonviolent world does not preclude the use
of force when circumstances afford no
other realistic options. Indeed, many prominent peace psychologists have records of
distinguished military service. In addition,
peace psychology is not monolithic and includes people who hold disparate assumptions and views about how to cope with
tyrants like Saddam Hussein as well as the
misguided leaders in their own respective
countries. Both the values of peace psychology and their relationship to science and action are topics of ongoing dialogue and reflection, as is appropriate to any field,
especially a nascent one.
From the standpoint of peace psychology, the values of inclusiveness, diversity,
and equity are important in regard to research and practice (Kimmel, 1995; Wessells, 1992). If research in peace psychology
were dominated by Western approaches,
the result would be not only culturally biased concepts and tools but also social injustice within the field of peace psychology
that would likely be reflected in the marginalization of local voices, the privileging of
Western approaches as more "scientific" or
prestigious, and in inequitable distribution
of resources such as publication space and
funding. This power asymmetry represents a
form of neo-colonialism (Wessells, 1992)

353

or cultural imperialism (Dawes, 1997). Although the asymmetry exists de facto by
virtue of the wider economic and political
privileging of Western countries, psychologists in the Western world can take systematic
steps to include the voices and perspectives
of psychologists from different countries,
thereby enriching the field, enhancing cultural relevance of psychological theory and
method, and building equity within the
house of psychological science.

Science and Action
Traditionalists, who view science as truthseeking and as independent of the arena of
political discourse and action, have eschewed speaking out in the public arena or
taking positions on controversial issues
(Suedfeld & Tetlock, 1992). In this view, scientists should stick strictly to science. The
problem, however, is that although one can
conduct relatively "pure" research without
any interest in application or action, knowledge is a social commodity, and others may
use the knowledge in objectionable ways.
The inadequacy of the view that scientists
have no responsibility for what they develop
through research is apparent to anyone who
has studied Nazi science, which was thoroughly state-controlled and the results of
which were used for purposes of genocide.
Further, inaction on the part of scientists
serves as a warrant for the perpetuation of
the status quo, an objectionable situation in
a socially unjust system. To have conducted
pure research on psychophysics during
the Nazi regime, for example, would have
been tantamount to complicity in genocide
through one's silence.
A more appropriate view for peace
psychology is that science is inevitably an
extension of socially constructed political
agendas, often left unstated. In addition,
scientists bear responsibility for their discov-

354

eries and tools and how they are used. In
this sense, peace research is intimately connected with action for social justice. The
questions asked should address issues of
peace and social justice, and what is learned
from the research should inform actions in
the public arena. Of course, difficult questions remain about when it is appropriate to
speak out, what can legitimately be said, and
how scientific results will be used. These issues are examined further in the sections
below.

VENUES FOR ACTION
Sensitization
In work on sensitization or consciousnessraising, psychologists may contribute to
public dialogue through agenda-setting.
Not infrequently, the public agenda is set by
people trained in disciplines such as law
and political science who may not recognize
or have the expertise to handle psychological dimensions of social justice issues. For
example, an essential part of peace building
in the former Yugoslavia is the conduct of
war crimes tribunals, including those for
perpetrators of gender-specific war crimes
such as rape. Initial plans of procedures for
women to give testimony, however, did not
adequately consider the profound psychological implications of the very act of giving
testimony about one's experience of being
raped nor provide appropriate witness support and protection. Through the efforts of
an international group of mental health
professionals, including Anne Anderson of
Psychologists for Social Responsibility, working through the Coordination of Women's
Advocacy, procedures were changed and
psychological supports were improved (Anderson & Richter-Lyonette, 1997). Similarly,
in work on issues such as discrimination,
psychologists have been instrumental in

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

calling attention to the psychological damage resulting from discrimination even as
long ago as the 1940's, when Kenneth and
Mimi Clarke's (1947) study demonstrated
the effects of racism on the self-concept of
young black children.
A key part of work on sensitization is
the dissemination of psychological knowledge and tools. This can be particularly
important in addressing issues of human nature or in correcting misuse of psychological knowledge. As Doris Miller (1972) has
noted, the public discourse contains many
presumed psychological "truths" that psychologists ought to examine critically:
Economists, politicians, physicists, editorialists, munitions manufacturers and "philosophers" have not hesitated to advise society
on problems of social motivation, the inevitability of war as "inherent in human nature" and the like. What psychologists have
come forth to substantiate or refute these
"psychological" laws? These are important
psychological questions per se; that their answers may have important implications does
not make them less so and should not
frighten us away from them. (p. 221)

In this spirit, psychologists and scholars
from other disciplines wrote the widely disseminated Seville Statement on Violence
(1987), which challenged the view of war as
genetically determined. The publication of
the statement elicited a new round of research and discussion on the causes of war
which continues today.
A particularly useful sensitization strategy is to target policy leaders, enabling psychological information to enter policy dialogue. A salient example is the work of
Ralph K White in regard to the Middle East
peace process. Following the wars of 1967
and 1973 and the entrenchment of U.S. policy to oppose the spread of communism
in the Middle East, Arab-Israeli relations
had become saturated with misperceptions,

Psychologists Making a Difference in the Public Arena: Building Cultures of Peace

black and white thinking, and mutual lack
of empathy. In 1977, White published a
paper that pointed out the divergent historical realities of Israelis and Arabs, identified
damaging, self-sustaining misperceptions,
and emphasized the need to address these
misperceptions (White, 1977). This paper,
circulated to approximately 100 U.S. embassies around the world, likely helped to establish a psychological climate favorable to
peacemaking activities such as the 1978
Camp David process which built peace between Egypt and Israel. It is significant that
White's paper did not call for particular
policies. By raising awareness of the psychological dimensions, White helped to reframe problems that had been thought of
mostly in historical, political, and economic
terms. He also helped to redefine the peace
agenda.
Reframing issues in light of psychological knowledge and situating issues in psychological perspective often helps to break
out of conventional modes of thought, to
challenge underlying assumptions, and to
bring previously neglected dimensions into
sharp relief. Even in the absence of hard
data on particular policies, the reframing of
issues constitutes one of the most valuable
contributions peace psychologists make in
the public arena (Smith, 1986). It was in
this spirit that Herbert Kelman (1977)
helped to mobilize in 1952 a small group of
social scientists who established the Research Exchange on the Prevention of War.
In turn, the Exchange led to the formation
of the Journal of Conflict /Usolution, which has
included psychological and multidisciplinary issues related to conflict.
Since building cultures of peace is a
global process and issues such as gender equity are global in scope, sensitization efforts
often rely on tools such as networks and
mass media. Through networking, one potentially creates multiple venues for carry-

355

ing messages to a wide audience. The Internet and other tools make it possible to deliver messages more widely and immediately
than ever before. Accordingly, the UNESCO Culture of Peace Programme has focused its work for the Year 2000 on the establishment of an Internet worldwide peace
news network that helps to redefine what
counts as "newsworthy" (Adams, 1998).
Mass media such as radio and television
provide excellent venues for taking messages to a wide public audience. To establish social justice in countries in Africa,
Search for Common Ground, a non-governmental organization (NGO) based in the
United States, has developed a series of
radio programs that feature drama and
psychologically informed discussions to encourage tolerance and understanding across
lines of conflict. Radio is still the most accessible medium in many areas of Africa. In developed nations such as the United States,
television plays a central role in defining social reality, and television images are widely
believed to have helped mobilize public
support for particular policies.
Peace psychologists have only begun to
use television for purposes of sensitization,
in part because war is more sensational and
the communications industry has reflected
the priorities and values of the war system.
Many psychologists are wary because they
have had their material misused or have
been uncomfortable reducing complex issues into "sound bites." Some harbor negative stereotypes of media they see as having
helped to normalize violence and social inequities. Others struggle with ethical issues,
fearing, for example, that interviews conducted on camera with victims in war zones
may violate confidentiality or jeopardize the
security or the community acceptance of interviewees.
Although these complexities warrant
careful attention, they should not be allowed

356
to exercise a chilling effect Many of the
problems can be addressed through careful
preparation and by working with psychological organizations, subjecting ideas to be presented on camera to peer review. The transformation of public media is an essential part
of building cultures of peace, and peace psychologists should do their part to criticize inappropriate media imagery and the misuse
of psychological material, to get peace and
socialjustice issues on the media agenda, and
to encourage programming that encourages
values, attitudes, and behaviors conducive to
cultures of peace.

Consultation
Psychologists are often asked to provide expert advice at different social levels in addressing issues of social justice and peace. To
improve race relations, communities may
look to psychologists for help in analyzing
problems, moderating dialogues, designing
and conducting research, or developing and
implementing strategies of intervention and
prevention. Similarly, schools that want to
improve gender equity or to address problems of violence may look to peace psychologists for advice. Not infrequently, psychologists are called upon to give expert legal
testimony on issues such as the psychological
damage inflicted by family and community
violence, the community impacts of nuclear
weapons development and testing, or the effects of gender discrimination in the workplace. Systematic work at different social
levels, even if conducted with little public attention, is needed to build cultures of peace.
Since building peace is a global project
and injustices within one country are frequently interconnected with injustices in
other countries and regions, it is vital for
peace psychologists to work internationally.
In addition, many countries, ravaged by long

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice
histories of colonialism, poverty, and war, require external assistance. Global work on humanitarian assistance, peace, and sustainable
development is often conducted by governmental organizations, NGOs, and United
Nations (U.N.) agencies, which frequently
receive financial support from donor governments and agencies such as the U.S. Agency
for International Development.
Consultation within the U.N./NGO system constitutes an increasingly important
venue for peace psychologists working to
make a difference in the public arena. Indeed, significant numbers of psychologists
serve as consultants to international and
local NGOs on projects such as addressing
war trauma, making women more central in
development projects, providing psychosocial support and care for refugee and internally displaced peoples, and reconstructing
communities for peace, to name only a few.
On the ground, psychologists often provide
consultation and services via training, education, program design, evaluation, and
human rights monitoring. Psychologists also
advise via NGO committees to the United
Nations and by working directly with particular U.N. agencies. Here psychologists may
help to develop appropriate standards, integrate psychosocial perspectives and establish comprehensive programs of development, and offer psychologically informed
criticism of U.N. activities.
Significant risks centered around power
and culture attend consultation efforts. Because of the dominance of Euro-American
psychology, most consultants have Western
training and have Ph.D. degrees, which
carry significant prestige in the developing
world. Typically, they enter difficult situations as consultants for international NGOs
or U.N. agencies that provide money, food,
health care, housing, and other resources.
Because of extreme poverty and enormous

Psychologists Making a Difference in the Public Arena: Building Cultures of Peace

human needs locally, a significant power
asymmetry exists between local communities and the psychologists and the agencies
for which they work (Wessells & Kostelny,
1996). In this context, local people may be
excessively deferential to the external "experts" and may either embrace or give the
appearance of embracing the methods and
projects they suggest. Eager to avoid appearing backward, local people may not mention or may keep on the margins centuriesold practices that could connibute to
psychosocial well-being in the community.
This situation marginalizes local voices and
continues the injustices of class, wealth,
power, and ethnicity that are deeply embedded in global North-South relations.
Thus, psychology can become a tool of
cultural imperialism (Dawes, 1997; Wessells,
1998) that derogates local culture and undermines traditions that might provide a
sense of continuity and support under difficult circumstances. The sad irony, of course,
is that Western-derived concepts and tools,
although useful in many settings, may not
apply "off the shelf." Embodiments of Western cultural assumptions and values, these
concepts and tools may not fit local beliefs,
values, and practices, severely limiting both
their efficacy and their sustainability. As one
example, Giller (1998) tells of having been
invited to Uganda in the late 1980s to set up
a center for victims of torture. Although her
Western background led to a focus on
trauma, she soon realized that poverty was
the larger problem, that "trauma" in that
context correlated poorly with social function, and that individualized counseling
approaches were culturally inappropriate.
Wisely, she decided to learn from local people and to develop culturally grounded approaches.
Giller's example points out the importance of working self-critically in a collabo-

357

rative spirit of dialogue and power sharing.
Aware of the potential problems, Western
consultants may temper the hierarchical
role of "experts" who presumably hold solutions to difficult problems, opting instead
for a role of partnership in addressing difficult issues. This role entails careful listening
to local people, learning about local customs, regarding local people and traditions
as resources, and encouragement of local
leadership and ownership of programs. The
emphasis is on building local capacity and
culturally relevant interventions rather than
on seeking external solutions to problems.
Working in this partnership mode, consultation is a process of mutual dialogue and
problem-solving. This approach is at the
heart of community-based programs (see
Wessells & Monteiro, this volume). It is also
at the center of the Culture of Peace Programme (cf. Adams, 1995) of UNESCO
(the U.N. Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization), which laid the foundation for the International Year of the Culture of Peace in 2000.

Activism
Activism is a process of mobilizing people
for action, where the action may support a
particular position (e.g., writing Congresspeople in support of a Comprehensive Test
Ban) or may be nonpositionally oriented
(e.g., urging people to vote in the next U.S.
presidential election). Activism is central to
the project of social change since public
mobilization is often needed to move leaders towards actions that help to build peace
and social justice. Without public support,
leaders may feel constrained politically from
peace-promoting steps toward which they
may be inclined personally.
Peace psychology stands to connibute
much to projects of activism to build cultures

358
of peace. Psychologists have a wealth of relevant tools and concepts pertaining to attitude
change, motivation, nonviolent options, and
organization, among many others, that can
be used to assist the work of peace organizations (Wollman, 1985). Psychologists are in a
position to build understanding of activism,
of how to empower people and keep them involved in the face of adversity, and of what
leads to activism within the system or outside
ofit (Schwebel, 1993). In addition, peace psychologists may offer key insights that help to
mobilize people on particular issues. For
example, the work of White (1984), Deutsch
(1983), Bronfenbrenner (1961), Keen
(1986), Silverstein (1989) and others suggested that processes of excessive fear, enemy
imaging, and related problems of misperception andjudgmental biases made the policy of
nuclear deterrence imperfect and dangerous. Via networks with peace organizations
and the Enemy Images Project of Psychologists for Social Responsibility (PsySR), which
produced the manual Dismantling the Mask of
Enmity, these insights entered public dialogue. The psychological critique of nuclear
deterrence was not universally accepted, but
it did contribute to public discourse, an important form of action without which leaders
are potentially at liberty to engage in folly
(Tuchman, 1984). Similarly, during the Cold
War, psychologists worked to mobilize people
in discussing the nuclear threat and its implications .for families (e.g., Greenwald &
Zeitlin, 1987), communities (Albee, 1992; Pilisuk & Parks, 1986), and for nations and civilizations Uacobs, 1989; Mack, 1982; White,
1984). This strategy of stimulating critical discourse at multiple levels is essential for enabling large-scale social change.
An important form of activism by peace
psychologists is the construction of effective
psychological organizations. These organizations mobilize their own discipline for
peace with regard to structure and activities

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

such as research, training, education, and
practice. Historically, activist psychology organizations in the United States included
the Committee on Psychology in National
and International Affairs, the SPSSI Committee on Anus Control and Disarmament,
and American Psychologists for Social Action Uacobs, 1989). The work of the Society
for the Study of Peace, Conflict, and Violence: Peace Psychology Division of the
American Psychological Association (Division 48) helps to build social justice within
the world's largest psychological association
and also encourages psychologists to do
their share in building peace both locally
and globally. Related peace psychology organizations exist in many different countries,
and one of the key tasks of activating psychology for peace is to build effective networks among these organizations (Harari,
1992; WesselIs, 1992). To assist in building
these networks, the Committee for the Psychological Study of Peace, which works under
the auspices of the International Union of
Psychological Science, convenes biennially
an International Symposium on the Contributions of Psychology to Peace.
In guiding action in the wider public
arena, activist organizations are significant
in defining the issues, deciding what to say,
whom to target, etc. For the past 15 years,
PsySR, facilitated by its national coordinator, Anne Anderson, has been the activist
arm of psychology in the United States. Although PsySR works extensively on peacebuilding and prevention (e.g., its current
main project is Building Cultures of Peace),
it has also served as a rapid-response network that attempts to bring forward the best
psychological knowledge in times of crisis.
When a hot issue such as the Gulf Crisis of
1991 arises, PsySR begins an inclusive dialogue within its national Steering Committee and Advisory Board, which includes distinguished psychologists possessing diverse

Psychologists Making a Difference in the Public Arena: Building Cultures of Peace
orientations. It also launches an intensive
search through its international networks
for issue-relevant expertise. This process targets key issues, identifies what is known and
what is not, and often leads to a position
that takes into account diverse viewpoints
and the collective wisdom of many professionals. In this manner, PsySR speaks for
many psychologists and potentially has an
impact beyond that achievable by individuals acting alone.
Education for peace, which is not an
armchair endeavor but a process of education and mobilizing people for peace
(Brocke-Utne, 1989), is of central importance in activism. Peace education in schools
is valuable and draws significantly on psychological concepts and tools (Coleman &
Deutsch, this volume). But education for
peace also includes informal education, including learning by doing and social action.
Psychologists stand to contribute significantly to this multi-level work through activities such as conducting community-based
training to oppose racism (as in the PsySR
"US & THEM: The Challenge of Diversity"
project) , developing effective facilitated
processes that improve communication
about controversial subjects, encouraging
parents' groups to speak out on the quantity
and graphic nature of violence on television
(Hesse, 1989; Carlsson-Paige & Levin, 1990),
and mobilizing to improve the status of
women, such as participating in the follow-up
to the fourth U.N. Conference on Women to
implement the National Action Agenda
(Stanley Foundation, 1997).

Influencing Policy
Peace psychologists have a number of important roles to play in regard to public policy. As researchers, they may conduct policyrelevant research that helps to inform policy
decisions (Suedfeld & Tetlock, 1992; Tet-

359

lock, 1986). In the role of the local opposition and using the cultures of peace elements outlined above as a compass, they
may offer psychologically informed critiques of existing policies, discuss problems
of current policies with policy leaders, or
help to mobilize public opposition to psychologically damaging policies (DeLeon, O'Keefe,
VandenBos, & Kraut, 1996).
Psychologists may also serve as monitors,
reporting on social injustice and human
rights abuses that they see in their field work
and that stem from particular policies. This
monitoring role is particularly important in
regard to the abuse of psychological knowledge
and tools. For example, repeated field reports
and recently declassified documents suggest
that Latin American military personnel,
trained in the United States at the School of
the Americas in Fort Benning, Georgia, had
committed numerous atrocities and had also
used psychological methods for purposes of
interrogation and torture. Although peace
psychologists diverge in their views on the necessity for and utility of covert operations,
wide agreement exists that it is unethical to
use psychological tools for purposes of torture. Ethical issues of this nature outstrip the
guild codes of ethics of most professional associations such as the American Psychological Association. In this context, it is vital for
peace psychologists to monitor and report
publicly on abuses observed, to educate poliey makers about the damage inflicted by psychological torture, and to work within the
discipline to oppose the development of psychological instruments of torture and to encourage psychologists to be vigilant in regard
to how their methods are actually used (Psychologists for Social Responsibility, 1997).
Psychologists' responsibilities do not end
with the development of psychological tools.
Policy advocacy is an essential element of
work toward cultures of peace. In some cases,
peace psychologists can advocate policies

360
that are based upon established psychological knowledge. For example, to assist Angolan children who had been separated from
parents or who were "orphans," the Angolan
government had developed by 1994, a practice of placing unaccompanied children in
institutions or orphanages, which operated
under extreme conditions of poverty, overcrowding, and understaffing. An extensive
psychological literature attests to the ill effects of rearing children in such institutions,
where inattention and lack of stimulation are
prevalent (Bowlby, 1979). Accordingly, the
Angolan psychological staff of Christian Children's Fund advocated publicly in meetings
with Angolan government officials on behalf
of scaling back on institutionalizing children
while using precious funds for purposes of
documentation, tracing, and family reunification. In Angola, extended family is nearly
always available for assisting children, and
families are in the best position to provide an
environment conducive to children's healthy
psychosocial development. Fortunately, the
Angolan government had a genuine interest
in children's well-being, and this advocacy
contributed to a national deemphasis on institutionalization of children.
Policy advocacy within the United States
is of special importance since the U.S. government has powerful influence worldwide
and has resources that can make a difference in many regions. Arguably, U.S. government policies have contributed strongly
to war and injustice in many parts of the
world as well as to social injustice within
U.S. borders. During the Cold War, for example, the U.S. military expenditures were
approximately $300 billion annually, and
such vast defense spending drained scarce
resources away from meeting widespread
needs for health care, housing, and employment (Sivard, 1986). In fact, the United
States has spent more on nuclear weapons
since 1940 than on all other budget cate-

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice
gories besides Social Security and nonnuclear defense, according to a Brookings Institution report. Total cost since 1940 in nuclear weapons and infrastructure is $5.5
trillion (as of 1996, adjusted for inflation;
see Schwartz, 1998).
To strengthen emphasis on peace, psychologists such as Paul Kimmel, the firstAPA
Public Policy Fellow, advocated on behalf of
the establishment of a U.S. Institute of Peace
(USIP), which could enhance national security through the development and application of concepts and tools of nonviolent conflict resolution. Kimmel "has attributed the
concepts formulated by Jerome Frank,
Charles Osgood, Morton Deutsch, and Ralph
K. White in the sixties as those which laid the
foundation of the Peace Academy Campaign" Qacobs, 1989, p. 80) that culminated
in the establishment of the USIP. The expertise of distinguished psychologists such as
Herbert Kelman (1996) is now prominent in
USIP-sponsored books, conferences, and
policy dialogues.
Work on public policy faces difficult issues of how to make a difference, what can be
said, which issues to focus on, etc. As discussed above in connection with activism,
one may address these issues by working
through socially responsible organizations
that have credibility and provide peer review
and inclusive dialogue. A persistent problem
in this work is the focus on crises, which are
omnipresent. Although perhaps too much
has been made of the "CNN effect," it is true
that public attention and the work of peace
psychology organizations has tended to track
the hottest crises. As one example, work on
nuclear weapons policies within peace psychology and the wider peace community diminished following the end of the Cold War.
But the 1998 nuclear testing and tensions between India and Pakistan put these policies
back in the spotlight. The problem, one that
peace psychologists ought to attend to, is that

Psychologists Making a Difference in the Public Arena: Building Cultures of Peace
nuclear policies and threats are long-tenn
and are associated with related issues of
weapons development, cultural, political,
and economic militarization, and problems
of conversion and unemployment, to name
only a few. If policy work is to be an effective
means of prevention, this work itself must
have a long-tenn, systems orientation toward
analysis and change.
Issues of culture and power also pose significant challenges. For example, who determines what constitutes human rights? As recognized in the Universal Declaration on
Human Rights, it is vital to have global standards for protection. In practice, however,
Western nations have led the dialogue on
"human rights," leading to collisions between Western values and those oflocal people in non-Western cultures. The world's
most widely endorsed human rights instrument-the UN Convention on the Rights of the
Child (CRC)-Prohibits the military recruitment of youth under 15 years of age, and
most signatories of the CRC support an Optional Protocol to boost the minimum age to
18 years. Intended to prohibit the exploitation of children through soldiering, this limit
embodies Western definitions of childhood.
In many Bantu cultures in Mrica, a young
male of twelve or 13 years is regarded as an
adult following passage through the culturally scripted rites of manhood (Wessells,
1998). This case and many others raise issues
about who defines childhood and whether it
is appropriate to impose universal standards
on local peoples.
Although these issues admit no easy answers, two points are particularly noteworthy.
First, against concerns about cultural imperialism, one must weigh the need for moral accountability and the importance of avoiding
extreme cultural relativism, which can create
an "anything goes" mentality. For example,
some local practices such as female infanticide are unacceptable to the vast majority of

361

peoples and need to change. Second, full
participation and ongoing dialogue are essential in the construction of policy standards. Social injustice arises when any small
group of nations sets the human rights
agenda or limits participation in the construction of policies. Standards and policies
are dynamic, and fuJI participation helps to
ensure that they will evolve in ways that advance social justice and peace. Thus psychologists have a responsibility to advance this inclusive, participatory dialogue in their own
work in the policy arena.

TOWARD THE FUTURE
A glimpse at the past shows great promise
for peace in the future and considerable
need for the services of psychologists in nurturing cultures of peace. The twentieth century has no equal in the blood that has been
spilt and in a record of being the most inhumane in history, with a trail of warfare directed at civilian targets, atrocities against
women and children, extreme racism, and
ethnic slaughter and genocide.
Alongside that lurid history is another,
its diametric opposite, a record that reveals a
steadily rising trajectory toward the peaceful
resolution of conflict, culminating in its last
decade in the drive to transfonn a culture of
war to a culture of peace. The century has witnessed the establishment of the first international organizations aimed at the maintenance of world peace, the League of Nations
and the United Nations. The latter has endured many trials, oudasted predictions ofits
early demise, and appears, now at the dawn
of the twenty-first century, to be a pennanent
feature of global life.
Most strikingly has been the change in
the consciousness of people and in their collective actions. The helplessness of adults has
been displaced by the power of people all
over the world who insisted on their inde-

362
pendence, as in India and former colonies
throughout Africa. In much of the world, as
in the United States, oppressed people, including women, have demanded equality,
and many have won a share of it And worldwide, most people have rejected, and demonstrated and voted against, the nuclear arms
race. That is why the concept of "cultures of
peace" has such wide appeal.
Not surprisingly, during the half century that has seen the rapid rise of the peace
trajectory, psychologists have increasingly
participated in efforts to introduce peaceful
means of conflict resolution in family and
community life, in organizations and institutions, and in national and international af-

Peacebuilding: Approaches to Social Justice

fairs. There is increasing appreciation that
peace is systemic and that the construction
of peace requires efforts at various levels
such as marital counseling, community dispute resolution, interethnic mediation, and
international diplomacy.
What is called for now, all the more, is
the creative genius of psychology to generate
new approaches to propel the transformation
to cultures of peace. There is, at the same
time, the need for psychologists in virtually all
of its many fields---e.g., developmental, cognitive, clinical, counseling, educational, organizational-to situate their theory, research
and practice in such a culture.

CONCLUSION:
PEACE PSYCHOLOGY
FOR THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY
Deborah Du Nann Winter, Daniel J. Christie,
Richard V. Wagner, and Laura B. Boston

Peace psychology at the tum of the millennium has greatly expanded since its inception during the Cold War. With the collapse of the Soviet Union in the early 1990s, the planet's bipolar international organization changed dramatically, as did the nature of war. The dyadic relationship between two superpowers no longer captures the psychological complexity of armed
conflict in its many forms. At the beginning of the new millennium, war is no longer a matter
of ideological suuggle between two rival economic systems, and the global system of
nation/states is no longer viewed as a set of dominoes falling to one side or another. War is
not even primarily a matter of interstate conflict, since the vast majority of wars are fought
within states. Instead of traditional military theaters with emphasis on extended deterrence
and defense of borders (see Introduction), armed violence is now ubiquitous, occurring not
only in jungles and villages, but in urban streets (see Kostelney & Garbarino, this volume),
and households of all economic classes (see Abrahams, this volume).
As the settings for armed conflict have expanded, so has the number of victims increased.
War-related deaths, especially to civilians, have steadily grown throughout the twentieth century. An average of twelve wars per year were conducted in 1950s; by the 1980s that figure had
risen to 40 (Renner, 1999). Concomitantly, civilians have borne an increasing proportion of
deaths from war (see Table 1). As Wessells, Schwebel, and Anderson (this volume) have
noted, the twentieth century is clearly the bloodiest on record.
The twentieth century also ushered in new levels of affluence and an enlargement of
choices for some people, and new levels of deprivation with a narrowing of choices for many

363

Conclusion

364
Table 1

Largest Armed Conflicts since 1945 (from Renner, 1999, p. 17)
Number Killed
(thousand)

Civilian Victims
(percent)

Conflict

Time Period

China (civil war)

1946-1950

1,000

50

N. vs. S. Korea (international intelVention)

1950-1953
1960-1975

3,000

50

2,358

58

Nigeria (Biafra civil war)

1967-1970

2,000

50

Cambodia (civil war; foreign intelVention)

1970-1989

1,221

69

Bangladesh (secession from Pakistan)

1971

1,000

Mghanistan (Soviet intelVention)

1,500

Mozambican (civil war)

1978-1992
1981-1994

50
67

1,050

95

Sudan (civil war)

1984-present

1,500

97

N. vs. S. Vietnam (United States intelVention)

others. As we begin the twenty-first century, peace psychology is confronting the structural
roots of direct violence. Many fonns of direct violence can be traced to structure-based inequalities, exacerbated by ethnic tensions, environmental degradation, and economic desperation, which powerful leaders exploit (Hauchler & Kennedy, 1994; Homer-Dixon, 1993; Renner,1996).
But the twentieth century in general, and the last few decades in particular, presented unprecedented opportunities for peace, and demonstrated some impressive accomplishments in
peacemaking, peacekeeping, and peacebuilding. For example, the world has been astonished
by the peacemaking achieved by South Mrica in its relatively nonviolent end to apartheid; by
the "velvet revolution" of the Czech Republic; and in the relatively bloodless process in which
the Soviet Union dissolved into independent nations. In international peacekeeping, the United
Nations was established in 1945 and has taken an increasingly important role in protecting
peace agreements in the last decade (see Langholtz & Leenges, this volume). The United Nations's peacebuildingefforts are even more extensive, including human rights conventions, and
agencies which promote education, health, and sustainable development (see below). Meanwhile, the world witnessed the proliferation of non-governmental organizations (NGOs)
which give representation and voice to a wider spectrum of citizen needs; the establishment of
women's suffrage and civil rights; the growth of democracy; the promotion of compulsory education; and a general improvement in the quality of life for the average world citizen. Paradoxically, both the omnipresence of armed violence, and the prospects for peace, have never
been greater than at the tum of the millenium.

FOUR-WAY MODEL
In this book, we have attempted to map the vast expansion of topics in peace psychology with
a four-way model. Our model distinguishes direct from indirect violence, and direct from indirect peace. For example, fonns of direct violence such as genocide (see Staub, this volume),
domestic violence (see Abrahams, this volume), hate crimes (see Murphy, this volume), and

Conclusion

365

ethnic violence (Niens & Cairns, this volume) are salient and episodic. But indirect structural
violence, such as global economic oppression of third world citizens (see Pilisuk, this volume),
violations of indigenous rights (see Lykes, this volume), and excessive militarization (see Britton, this volume; Winter, Pilisuk, Houck, & Lee, this volume) is chronic and insidious.
On the peace side, we have differentiated direct peacemaking from indirect peacebuilding. Conflict resolution and mediation techniques (see Sanson & Bretherton, this volume;
Coleman & Deutsch, this volume), and peacekeeping (see Langholtz & Leenges, this volume)
create peace directly, whereas peacebuilding is a long term process of restructuring society's
institutions to reduce oppression and create equality. Peace building will require increasing
rather than decreasing tension (see Montiel, this volume), redressing poverty (see Dawes, this
volume), and the large scale project of building cultures of peace (see Wessells, Schwebel, &
Anderson, this volume).
While our model allows us to map a vast terrain of topics under these four categories,
there are, of course, many topics which we have failed to include, simply because no one single volume can include everything. Notably missing are the issue of terrorism and how it impacts national security (White, 1998), the problem of media violence and how it feeds a culture of violence (Bok, 1998), reemerging fascism and militia movements (Lee, 1997),
warlords (Reno, 1999), the psycholinguistics oflanguage which lead to conflict and violence
(Tannen, 1998), the problematic marketing of light weapons (Renner, 1998), and arms control (Renner, 1994).
Furthermore, by assigning our chapters to these four sections, we have stressed the distinctions rather than the connections between categories. But we also realize that our distinctions are often more conceptual than concrete. Direct and structural violence are reciprocal
processes, in that they exacerbate each other. Peacemaking will not last long if peacebuilding
isn't also addressed, and most forms of violence have both direct and structural features. Direct violence usually stems from structural violence because structured inequalities are predisposing conditions for outbreaks of violent episodes.
For example, we can understand incidences of neighborhood violence as an integrated
system of direct and structural violence. In April of 1999, two boys from Columbine High
School in Colorado, United States, killed twelve students and one teacher. These boys were
widely known among their classmates as social outcasts. The brutality and scope of this massacre led many to focus on the psychopathology of the two perpetrators, and we certainly do
not deny their emotional distress. But noting the systemic ways in which structural violence
and direct violence interact leads us also to examine the adolescent subculture of high schools
in the United States, where athletes rank much higher than non-athletes in status, respect,
and popularity. Taunting and social isolation are forms of structural violence and often lead
to anger, resentment, and direct violence. The U.S. economy, which makes guns easily available to children, enabled these boys to translate their fantasies of revenge and their
frustration with the school's differential power structure into direct violence with dire consequences.
As this example clearly demonstrates, indirect structural violence and direct violence are
highly interdependent. Social injustices fuel social unrest, often leading to a "malignant spiral
of hostile interaction," to borrow an image from Deutsch's (1983) analysis of the nuclear arms
race. Attempts to halt violent conflict require recognition that opponents' needs must be met
if long-term solutions are to be successful.

366

Conclusion

PEACE PSYCHOLOGY: TENSIONS IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY
Our model implies several tensions that will shape peace psychology in the coming years.
These tensions include activism vs. analysis, univeralism vs. relativism, proaction vs. reaction,
and peaceful means vs. peaceful ends. We phrase these issues as tensions because they operate
as dilemmas, where it is difficult to maximize both ends at the same time. Let us elaborate
what we mean in each case.

Activism vs. Analysis
We believe that lasting peace requires active political confrontation against socially unjust institutions and traditions. Until human needs are met on a fairly equitable basis, prospects for peace will
be slim. Our call to confront social injustice is a controversial (though not original) plea to psychologists. The bylaws of the American Psychological Association state that the APA exists to promote human welfare (APA Bylaws 1.1, http://lJJww.apa.org!about/mission.htm1). Throughout psychology's history, great thinkers have urged us to find ways to alleviate human suffering. George
Miller admonished us to "give psychology away" (1969). B. F. Skinner (1971) believed that psychology should be applied to solve humankind's pressing problems. More recently, George Albee
(1996, 1998) argued that prevention of mental illness and distress requires psychologists to address
the economic and political structures that create suffering, especially poverty. And most recently,
Martin Seligman's APA Presidential Initiative on ethno-politica1 conflict focused psychologists' attention on what we can do to "understand, predict, and even prevent such warfare" (1998, p. 2).
Just as practice and science constitute the larger discipline of psychology, we assert that
peace psychology should be based on both activism and analysis. While the idea of political activism is not new, psychology students are not currently trained to practice and pursue it. Political participation is left to individual choice, rather than programmatic design, as if the political actions of psychologists are irrelevant to their work. Little wonder, then, that the voice
of psychology is seldom heard by political leaders (Blight, 1987).
Will psychologists apply our knowledge to confront and change unjust social institutions?
Because public policy is a psychological issue, we believe that students should be trained how
to think about, research, lobby, and affect peace. We agree with Dawes (this volume) that
peace is a political process and psychologists cannot abdicate the political dimension of our
work. Our roles as scientists do not require us to remain politically neutral. Science itself is
value laden; feigning neutrality is intellectually dishonest and socially irresponsible.
Thus, for several reasons, we believe that peace psychologists should be activists. First, because peace cannot wait until all the data are in; second, because we learn from our ideas as we
apply them; third, because we are likely to be better practitioners if we simultaneously test our
ideas. Just as the Boulder Model (Raimy, 1950) urges that clinicians base their practices on the
process of science, so do we as peace psychologists see the importance of empirical research in
providing foundations for our work as practitioners.

Universalism vs. Relativism
Political activism brings with it the complicated question of universal values. To what extent
can we assume that our claims about human rights and our conception of the elements of
"cultures of peace" (see Wessells, Schwebel, & Anderson, this volume) are universal? We rec-

Conclusion

367

ognize that a great risk in doing peace psychology is that most psychologists are trained in a
particular culture and Zeitgeist that supports capitalism and Western-style democracies (see
Dawes, this volume). If we naively ignore our own situated, arbitrary, and limited worldview,
we undermine our own effectiveness, as well as those we attempt to help (see Agger, and Pederson, this volume). The planet has watched the rapid spread of Western traditions and values
during the last few centuries (see Pilisuk, this volume). Peace psychologists must be careful to
avoid the colonial process of replacing traditional cultures with Western assumptions that promulgate capitalism and democracy as the only legitimate economic and political models of social organization.
Our discussion of structural violence assumes that equality and human rights are both
universal values. But many values are not universally shared and we risk being ethnocentric as
we articulate our values. For example, people in patriarchal societies assume that men deserve
more resources than women (see Mazurana & McKay, this volume) and feminists who promote equality between the sexes are frequently seen as ethnocentrically operating through a
narrowly Western set of lenses. In countries like China, where governments cope with huge
numbers of people, human rights are not embraced, and those Westerners who raise questions about human rights are called ethnocentric. Some African cultures endorse involuntary
clitorectomy, the surgical removal of young women's sexual organ. Although we risk being
called ethnocentric, we believe that enforced annihilation of female sexuality is wrong. Similarly, we believe that equitable distribution of human resources is a necessary step for creating
peace, even though we recognize that many, both inside and outside our culture, would disagree with us.
To what extent is the promotion of equality and human needs in our definition a product
of our naive ethnocentrism? This difficult question defies easy answers. We cannot blithely assume that our definition is universal, but we cannot abandon the project of defining values
simply because they are difficult to generalize and we are afraid of overstating our terms. All
we can do is promote one definition as the best we have right now, staying aware of the risks
involved in putting it forward, and assuming that we will learn more about how to improve it.
Building peace requires IlS to take some uncomfortable stands: to practice activism alongside
analysis, and to sincerely embrace and promote certain values, while continuously investigating the appropriateness of their universal application.

Pro-action vs. Reaction
Closely related to the activism issue is the question of pro-action vs. reaction. From the outset,
peace psychology was reactive, originating in the 1980s as a reaction to the Cold War and the
threat of nuclear annihilation. Reactive approaches to peace focus on violence which either
breaks out, or seems imminent. In contrast, proactive approaches aim at the pursuit of social
justice, the mitigation of oppressive and exploitative structures that can be predisposing conditions for episodes of direct violence. Proactive approaches treat peace and social justice as
indivisible, and take a long view of peace, committing resources to social changes that embrace the principles of equity and inclusion (Wagner, 1988). Given the reactive origins of
peace psychology, will we be distracted in the future whenever major violent episodes occur?
Or will peace psychologists also fix their attention on the structural roots of violent episodes,
and take a long range view to the project of building peace?

368

Conclusion

Peaceful Means vs. Peaceful Ends
Although every author who addressed the issue of social justice endorsed the value of pursuing socially just ends, there is less consensus in peace psychology on whether the means toward peaceful ends should always be nonviolent. In the present volume, Wessells, Schwebel
and Anderson point out that while nonviolence is a value in peace psychology, some peace
psychologists (for example, White, 1998) find force necessary under certain conditions. In
contrast, the Gandhian perspective, as articulated in the chapters by Steger and Mayton, endorses not only socially just ends, but peaceful means. Gandhi's view explicitly rejected violence of any kind. From his perspective, means and ends could be distinguished conceptually
and temporally, but not morally (Ostergaard, 1990).
In the current volume, Montiel also endorses using only nonviolent means and notes that
when violence is used, the actors merely switch roles in the dominant-subservient relationship.
Both Steger and Montiel point out that nonviolence requires courage, and when used with
commitment, is a powerful technique which produces change. Although peace psychologists
do not endorse violence, they differ in the degree to which they see nonviolence crucial for effecting peace.

CHALLENGES FOR THE TWENTY·FIRST CENTURY
Our treatment of peace psychology via this four-way model means that peace psychologists will
be challenged in important ways. Because peace is not a simple, unidimensional process,
peace psychologists in the twenty-first century need to analyze conflict systemically, examine
multiple levels of analysis, transform peace education, and work on building sustainable communities. We discuss these challenges one by one.

Peace Psychologists as Systems Analysts and Practitioners
One implication of our model is that the interface between direct and indirect peace and violence prompts peace psychologists to inquire about both aspects in any conflict situation. Individuals will likely have preferences and training that lead them to give priority to one dimension over the other. Indeed, as a field, psychology trains its students to disregard the
structural features of societies, in favor of focusing on individual responses to them (Sampson,
1983, 1993). For example, because most high school students are not outcasts and do not go
on killing rampages, both the media and psychologists can easily focus on the individual psychopathology of those who do. Psychologists can no longer afford to work simply on the individual level, though of course, they are particularly well-trained to address individual responses. Long-term solutions require that we illuminate the systemic connections between
direct and indirect levels of violence as well as between individuals and their communities.
Treating only the individual's reactions to social injustice is analogous to fixing a flood by removing a teaspoon of water at a time, instead of shunting the water off at its source.
Building peace and ending conflict in the twenty-first century require that we begin to notice the ethnocentric bias of traditional Western psychology. In most developing countries,
where collectivist thinking is more common than individualist thinking, Western psychology's
excessive individualism makes it unsuitable for application (Moghaddam, 1987; Sloan, 1990).
For example, reconstruction after war in Afllcan societies (see Wessells & Monteiro, this vol-

Conclusion

369

ume), as well as in Latin America (Lykes, this volume; also, Lykes, 1999) requires that psychology address community structures which give meaning to individual identity. Thus, the individual cannot be separated from the collective.

Pushing the Limits of our Knowledge: The Levels of Analysis Problem
Addressing both direct and structural features returns us to the question of how well we can
generalize from individuals to families, communities, nations, and societies. As we noted in
the Introduction, peace psychology during the Cold War tended to ignore levels of analysis,
and presumed that processes that apply to individuals generaIize easily to larger units, such as
social groups and nations. The bipolar world of two superpowers vying for prestige and security invited psychologists to think about the Cold War as a bad dyadic relationship: ineffective
communication resulted from distorted perceptions, giving rise to mirrored enemy images
(White, 1984). These phenomena were observed between the Soviet Union and the United
States, just as they were between distressed couples.
In the post-Cold War world, however, we are invited to question whether principles of
dyadic relationships can be generalized to other levels of analysis. Rubin and Levinger (1995)
listed some important differences between couples and nations. First, international conflict
tends to involve more than two parties and more than one issue, clearly challenging the dichotomized Cold War view. Second, unlike conflict in marriages and friendships, international conflict offers no opportunity for exit-countries can't divorce each other the way
spouses can. Third, chronic power asymmetries tend to endure in international systems; a
small, newly independent nation can't ask for the equivalent of "spousal support" because its
economy suffers the disadvantages of a century or more of colonial exploitation. Because of
these dissimilarities, international relations tend to be less fluid than interpersonal relationships. Communication difficulties are compounded by cultural differences, bureaucratic inertia, and lessened opportunity for trust.
Clearly, families, neighborhoods, high schools and embassies have different levels of complexity, different sets of competing values, different degrees of flexibility, and different opportunities for face-ta-face contact. Yet, the premise of our book suggests that examining peace
and conflict across these domains yields important insights. In particular, we posit that the
chapters here demonstrate the importance of considering human needs across levels of analysis. Although countries are different from families, human needs operate in both units. If
India and Pakistan are locked in an arms race, their needs for national security in the face of
their neighbor's threat, and their needs for prestige in the world community, are comparable
to a street gang's need to defend its territory and reputation. Both sets of players portray the
human need for security and respect, and violence can be expected until those needs are satisfied.
On the other hand, it is also true that some phenomena cannot be generalized, and we
must not ignore crucial differences that have an impact on our ability to facilitate peace in
larger units of analysis. The bigger the unit of analysis, the more complicated and difficult is
the resolution of conflict because of the heterogeneous constituencies whose interests are at
stake in any decision (Kelman, 1999). Nevertheless, we claim that conflict and war are human
behaviors that have human needs at their root. Our ability to track differences between levels

370

Conclusion

is aided by attention to the psychological needs that various groups cany. We will say more
about the importance of considering human needs in the final section of this chapter.

Transforming Peace Education: From Conflict Resolution
to Societal Transformation
Traditional approaches in peace psychology have focused on conflict resolution and nonviolence. But to the extent that conflict resolution eclipses power differences, peace psychology
will unwittingly contribute to the status quo, colluding with social injustice. In contrast, if
peace psychology develops emancipatory aspirations, we join other pedagogies that address
the empowennent of the oppressed. Peace psychology has much to learn from liberatory pedagogies, the central purpose of which is the empowennent of individuals and communities to
challenge and change the world rather than adapt to unjust situations (Freire, 1993; MartinBar6, 1994).
Transfonning peace education to address social justice presents challenges. First, there
may be little consensus about what constitutes social justice, in which case, the most productive education might result from simply raising issues, pointing to social injustice in settings
where the topic has never been raised before(see Opotow, this volume). Second, the education process is a multilevel enterprise, in which student culture, pedagogy, administrative decisions, and community values are relevant (see Coleman & Deutsch, this volume). Changes at
one level, if they are at all substantive, will likely affect other levels and constituents. For example, if a public school teacher unilaterally introduces a peace education segment in a social
studies course, especially a segment that focuses on social injustice, questions about values
and politics are likely to come from parents, administrators, and community members. The
problem is that a curriculum that attempts to transfonn peace education to address issues of
social justice is itself embedded in socially unjust structures of society.

Promoting Sustainable Communities and the Satisfaction of Human Needs
Because we see the equitable satisfaction of human needs as a crucial element of effective
peace building, we close our discussion by examining the long-term prognosis for peace as a
function of building sustainable cultures. Instead of assuming that military muscle will deliver
peace, we find that it often leads to violence and war. Rather than focusing simply on national
security, peacebuilding in the twenty-first century will require that we pay careful attention to
human security, and to our sustainable potential to satisfy human needs.
As the planet industrializes, hope for a better life becomes available for billions of people.
At the same time however, we are quickly approaching the earth's carrying capacity. Key limits
in the twenty-first century will be fresh water, range-lands, forests, oceanic fisheries, biological
diversity, and the global atmosphere (Brown & Flavin, 1999). As Homer-Dixon (1993) and
Renner (1996) have both shown, ecological stresses are common causes of armed conflict
around the world, and we can expect wars to increase as environments continue to deteriorate. Indeed, some have made a persuasive case for the proposition that in the twenty-first century, environmental security will replace national security as a primary strategy for preventing
war (Myers, 1993). Environmental security requires international cooperation because ecological damage does not respect national borders. Global treaties to protect environmental indicators will become as important as military alliances are now.

Conclusion

371

Education is crucial for building environmental security. Limiting population growth depends on education, since research has shown that minimal schooling for girls (fourth grade
or above) is the best predictor oflowered fertility rates Uacobson, 1992). Education for more
extensive "ecological literacy" (Orr, 1992) is making progress in developing as well as industrialized nations. Ecological literacy requires that we educate in order to connect and integrate
knowledge about the physical world with the decisions we make in our social institutions and
personal lives. Ecological education means helping people assume responsibility and consciousness about the environmental impacts of their own households, organizations, governments, and militaries. A peaceful world will require a populace educated for civic life, committed to environmental responsibility, and determined to build a peaceful world.
Crucial in this regard is the growing importance of grassroots peacebuilding (see Pilisuk,
this volume). Education does not necessarily have to move from the top down. "Bottom-up"
information sharing, through non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and grassroots
groups, can be just as effective, if not more, than government-approved educational programs. In many nations, NGOs and local groups are working together to effect change and
create both sustainable societies and peace.
There are many paths to peace: arms reduction and gun control, guaranteed livable wage, a
stronger United Nations willing and able to intexvene in early signal situations, a World Court to
try war criminals, a powerful international agency for dispute mediation, effective and sophisticated peacekeeping forces. But we highlight the dimension of sustainable development here, for
unless we learn to build sustainable cultures, the world cannot expect to see lasting peace. Natural
resource scarcity will lead to war in the twenty-first century even more often than it has led to war
in previous centuries; as population continues to increase and resources become increasingly rare
and unevenly distributed, conflict over them will become more frequent and intense. Human security is, in the long run, environmental security. We will never build lasting peace until we design
cultures that sustain themselves without oppressing either their neighbors or their progeny.

CONCLUSION
In conclusion, peace psychologists, as well as citizens around the world, are recognizing that
peace depends on ending poverty and making a commitment to justice and insuring environmental security. Meeting human needs in the twenty-first century means that we begin building sustainable cultures immediately. Human security will require our best creativity, commitment, compassion, and idealism. It will also require that we continually ask difficult questions
about activism vs. analysis, universalism vs. relativism, pro-action vs. reaction, levels of analysis,
nonviolent means and ends, and sustainable use and distribution of resources.
Peace psychologists can provide important leadership, analysis, activism, and support for
the crucial task of building sustainable peace. Analyzing the causes of violence, rebuilding wartorn communities, lobbying for social justice and arms control, teaching and practicing nonviolent conflict resolution, sensitizing ourselves to our own ethnocentrism, consulting with peacekeeping operations, ensuring gender parity, addressing ethnic identities and hostilities,
empowering alternative voices, and building environmental security are just a few of the myriad
ways peace psychologists can contribute to building a peaceful world. Our work building peace
will in turn build peace psychology. Hopefully, the twenty-first century will bring vigorous development of both. Peacebuilding is no small task-but, we ask, what else is more important?

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INDEX

A
Abnormal psychology, as approach
to intimate violence (see
Intimate violence)
Aboriginal relationships, 207
Alfred Angelo, working conditions,
153
Alienation, 255
Allport, Gordon, 3
American Psychological
Association
analysis of atomic warfare on
international relations, 3
Division of Peace Psychology, I
Amin, ldi, 80
Amnesty International, 165
Angola, 262
children, impact of Angolan war
on, 265-267, 270, 271, 272
community members,
selecting/training for healing,

270
cycles of violence, recurring, 263
Exposure and Impact Scales,
265
landmines, 265
libertion, 264-265
multi-province program for
addressing war stresses,
268--269
overview, 264-265
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in
Angolan children, 267
psychosocial intervention (see
Psychosocial inten/ention)
situational analysis, 269-270
soldiers, underage, reintegration
of,272-274
spirituality in culure, 268
war, 264
Annan, Kofi, 341

Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty, 92
Anti-Semitism, 146
APA (see American Psychological
Association)
Apartheid, 84, 252, 300 (see also
South Africa)
authoritarian personality,
relationship between, 301
boycotts, 153
direct violence, 306
dismantling, 301-305
Aquino, Corazon, 283, 291
Argentina
children, removal from families,
163
"dirty war," the, 162-164
disapperances in, 79
Grandmothers of the Plaza de
Mayo, 163-164
military juntas, 162
paramilitary organizations, 80
Armenians, genocide against, in
Turkey, 77-78
Asian Conflict Resolution
Conference, 206
Asian-Pacific conflict management,
18&-188
Authoritarianism, 282
Authoritarian personality
anti-gay/lesbian violence, as
factor in, 32
definition, new, 46
as factor in Northern Ireland (see
Northern Ireland, conflict in)
in intergroup conflict, 46
upbringing, influence on
developing, 40
Authoritarian/totalitarian societies,
genocide in, 78--79 (see also
Genocide)
Authority, obedience to, 78

B
Battered Women's Syndrome, 23
Between-Persons Cultural Grid,
189-191
Biological weapons (see Weapons of
mass destruction)
Black Consciousness Movement,
301
Borneo Project, 156
Bosnia, 61
aggressor/victim roles, 242
betrayals, war-time, 240
controversy, 179
ethnic cleansing, 243
ethno-political trauma, 241
home loss, 244
indirect repression, 243
lives, lost, 244-245
missing persons, 245
mixed marriages, 244
narrative, 241-242
paramilitary organizations, 80
population fleeing, 244
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,
245
psycho-social assistance, 245, 247,

248--250
rebuilding, 84
religion, as factor in problems,
243
trauma, methods for reducing,
24&-247
trust, loss of, in communities,
244
Boutros-Ghali, Boutros, 174
C

Cambodia, 79, 130
Cantril, Hadley, 3
Chemical weapons (see Weapons of
mass destruction)

417

Index

418
Children and violence, global (see
also Children and violence,
U.S.; Peace perspectives,
children's)
Angolan crisis (see Angola)
in developed nations, 122-124
ideal vs. actual experiences, 120
mediated learning, effect on,
123-125
overview, 120
peace perspectives of children
(see Peace perspectives,
children's)
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,
267
poverty, 120-121, 122
preventable causes of death,
121
psychosocial costs, 122
Children and violence, in U.S. (see
also Children and violence,
global)
acute vs. chronic, 114
cumulative effects, 114
gangs (see Gangs)
impactof,l14-116
intervention/prevention,
116--118
mediating effects, 113-114
overview of problem, 110-111
as perpetrators, III
risk factors, 111-113
twenty-first century trends, 116
as victims, III
Chile, testimony, role of, 260
China, 152
Christian Children's Fund, 263,
269, 270, 272
Civil Rights Movement, 32 I
Civil lights protections, for
lesbians/gays, 31
Civil War, (American), 66
casualties, 68
integrative complexity levels
(see Integrative complexity)
political factions, 68
slavery issue, 68
Clinical psychology, 2
Cold War
ad hoc responses by United
Nations, 173
end of, 173-174
integrative complexity during
(see Integrative complexity)
military spending during,
93-94
"security dilemma" stage, 5
social systems, relationship
between, 88
Soviet Union collapse, 1

weapons of mass destructions (see
Weapons of mass destruction)
Collective violence (see Group
violence)
Collectivistic cultures, 184-185
Colombia, kidnappings in, 70
Comprehensive Test Ban, 92
Conflict
A, B, and C mistakes, 211-212
definition, 194
overview of elements of, 210-212
roots of, 210
social context, 194
transfonnation culture, moving
towards, 220-221
Conflict resolution, 6
active listening, 198, 200
age-appropriate training,
238-239
analysis of own needs, 200
best alternatives to a negotiated
agreement (BATNAs),
201-202
brainstonning, 200
cooperative orientation, 198
creative problem.,<iolving model,
203-204
culturalIy based, 191-192, 238
cultural varation, 205-207
descriptive model, 203
dominant<uiture methods, 192
emotions, role of, 200-201
future directions, 208-209
goals,194
integrative solutions, 195-196
interest-based approach,
196-197,207
mediation (see Mediation)
mediation guidelines, 19 I
models, 193
nonviolent, 197-198
overview, 193-194
power-based approach, 195-196,
207
prescriptive model, 203
principled negotiation model,
203
principles, 194-198
probleID.,<iolving workshops, 204
rights-based approach, 195, 196,
207
in schools (see Schools, conflict
resolution in)
solutions, creating, 201
transcend dialogue method for
transfonnation (see
TRANSCEND method)
Conscientization, 288
Contact hypothesis
in Northern Ireland conflict, 45

recent research on, 47-48
Croatia,61
Cuban Missile Crisis, 94, 142
Cultural context, 17, 297
Cultural devaluation, 78
Cultural Grid, 188-l9l
Cultural inequalities, 292
Cultural violence, 277
Culture of hate, 36-37 (see also
Hate crimes)
Culture of peace, 351-352
Cyprus peacemaking mission, 169
D

Dehumanization, 255
Democracy
patriarchal structural violence
engendered in, 135
rarity of genocide in (see
Genocide)
Deterrence, 3
Diabolical enemy image, 4
Direct violence, 7-8
under apartheid (see Apartheid)
circular relationship with
structural violence, 12, 13, 15
generalizations related to, 16
preconditions to, 15
prevention, 277
social illiustice, relationship
between (see Injustice,
social)
structural violence, leading to,
100
Discrimination
against sexual minorities, 31, 32
(see also Homosexuals, violence
against)
Discourses, 314
Disruptive stress hypothesis, 72
Divided societies, reconciliation in
(see Reconciliation, in divided
societies)
• Domestic violence, 15 (see also
Battered Women's Syndrome;
Intimate violence)
in military, 145
self-eflicacy ofbatterer, 16
self-esteem ofbatterer, 16
Domino Theory, 5
Dresden firebombing, 90
E
Economics, polarization of wealth,
151
Education for Mutual
Understanding, 45
Ego defensive attitudes, 34
Emotional abuse, 20 (see also
Intimate violence)

Index
Empowerment
community-level, 337-338
family, 336
individual, 336
multilevel construct of, 335-336
organizational-level, 336--337
as psychological approach to
structural change, 335
societal-level, 337-338
Environment
globalization's effect on (see
Globalism)
global warming, 150
ozone depletion, 150
rainforest destruction, 150
Eritrea, 341
Ethiopia, 341
Ethnic cleansing, 15 (see also
Bosnia; Genocide; Mass
killings)
Ethnic nationalism, 243, 244
Ethno-political trawna, in Bosnia
(see Bosnia)
"Evil Empire Speech: I, 57
Experiential attitudes, 34
Experimental psychology, 2
Exploiter-victim relationship, 289
F

"Face,' concept of, in Asian-Pacific
culture, 186--187
Family violence, 112
Fear, psychology of, 319-320
Female infanticide, 131
Feminism, 342
Fight or flight mechanism, 319
Firearm accessibility in U.S.,
112-113
Folk theory, 58
Frank, Jerome, 4
Fundamental attribution error,
142-143
G

Galtung,Johan, 99
Game theory, 142
Gandhi, Mohandas K.
charisma, 312
discrimination against, 307
goals, 307-309
negotiation methods, 312, 317
non<ooperation, 317
nonviolence, 308-309, 314
peacebuilding strategies,
309-311
principles, 307-309
psychological explanations for
his movement's success,
311-313
salt protest, 309-311, 312

419
saroodaya, 307
satya, 307, 308
self-5uffering, 309
similarity to his people, 312
social injustice, engaged people
in thoughtful analysis of, 312
tapasya, 307-308
truth, 308, 313, 316--319
value system, 309
Gangs, 15
statistics on numbers in U.S.,
1lJ
Gay/lesbian hate crimes (see
Homosexuals, violence
against)
Gender inequality
economics, 133-135
education, 132
food/health care distribution,
132
intimate violence, relationship
between, 23-26
structural violence against
women (see Women/girls,
structural violence against)
Gendering peace psychology, 341
Gender non<onformity, in
childhood,35
Generations of human rights (see
Human rights violations)
Genocide (see also Group violence;
Mass killings)
in Cambodia (see Cambodia)
child-rearing to reflect human
values, 85
definition, 76
democratic societies vs.
authoritarian/totalitarian,
78-79,85
evolution, 77-78
twenty-first century prospects,
85~6

United Nations' preventive
efforts, 86
Gettysburg, Battle of, weapon use,
66
Globalism
activism, 157
corporate structural violence,
151-152
dehumanizing work, 152-154
domestic terrorism, relationship
between, 154-155
environmental effects, 150-151
human costs of, 150-151
monoculture, 155
poverty, distribution of, 151
prevention ofstructural violence,
155-157
vs.locaJism, 149-150

women's health, effect on
through structural violence,
154
Gosanda, Maha, 291
Government, legitimacy of, 60
Graduated and Reciprocated
Initiatives in Tensionreduction, 4
Grandmothers of the Plaza de
Mayo, 163-164, 320-321
GRIT (see Graduated and
Reciprocated Initiatives in
Tension-reduction)
Group self-5acrifice, 290
Group violence (see also Genocide;
Mass killings)
bystanders, role in, 8~1, 81~6
conditions as source of, 76--77
destructiveness, evolution of,
77-78
early warning, 82
group conflict as source of,
7~1

healing from, 83-84, 166
leaders and elites, role in, 80
preventing, 83
psychological response to
difficult lives, 77, 79
truth commissions and nibunals
(see Truth commissions and
tribunals)
unhealed group trauma as source
of,79
workshops/dialogue and contact,
84
Guatemala, 262
classifying Mayans as subhuman
by military, 164
human rights violations,
numbers of cases, 164
indigenous tights, 164-165
·scorched earth policy: 164
Gulf War, 57
H
Haiti,152
Hate crimes, 28-29
legislation against, 36
twenty-first century approaches,

109
Hate groups, 35 (see also Hate
crimes)
High<ontext cultures, 185, 186
Hiroshima, 91
Hitler, Adolf, 80
mv (see Human immunodeficiency virus)
Hobbes, Thomas, 314-316
Homelessness, 331-332, 338-339
(See also Poverty)

Index

420
Homosexuals, violence against, 15,
16
attitude fonnation, 3~34
brutality of, 30-31
characteristics of violence, 30-31
coalition building, 37-38
educational responses to, 37
feminist perspective, 35
legal responses to, 36
political explanation, 34--36
prevalence, 29
psychological explanations of,
32-34
social responses to, 36-37
statistics, inaccuracy of, 29, 30
Ho'oponopono, 187-188
Human factors psychology, 2
Human immunodeficiency virus,
154
Human rights violations
constructivist/cultural
interpretations, 161-162
generations of human rights,
158-160
in Guatemala (see Guatemala)
indigenous rights (see Indigenous
rights)
liberation psychology,
relationship between, 160-161
peacebuilding with extended
rights, 166-167
Hussein, Saddam
integrative complexity, 70-71
role in creating group violence,
80
Ideaology of antagonism, 79
Ideological violence, 278, 295, 297
!FOR (see NATO Implementation
Force)
Indigenous rights, 159
in Guatemala, 164--165,166
Inequalities, cultural (see Cultural
inequalities)
Ingroup attachment (see also
Ingroup bias)
negative elements, 53
positive elements, 52-53
universality of, 52
Ingroup bias, 33, 5~55 (see also
Ingroup attachment)
Injustice, social
detecting, 107-108
direct violence, relationship
between, 102-103
fostering social justice (see
Justice, social)
moral exclusion (see Moral
exclusion)

structural violence, relationship
between, 102-103
twenty-first century approaches,
109--110
Integrative complexity, 67-68
of Chamberlain, Neville, 74
cognitive approach, 73, 74
during Cold War, 69-70, 71
group dynamics, 72-73
groupthink. relationship
between, 73
of Hussein, Saddam, during Gulf
War, 70-71
impression management
approach, 74
levels, 71-72
link to war and peace, 72-73
prior to 1850 compromise,
American Civil War, 67-68, 69
of revolutionaries, 71
scoring, 75
during Suez Canal invasion, 71
of World War II leaders, 69
Intimate violence
abnormal psychology approach
to, 20-22
acute battering stage, 22
attitudinal approaches to, 22-23
behavioral approaches to, 22-23
death, escalation to, 20
economic structures, as factor in,
25
family systems approach, 2~24
gender inequality (see Gender
inequality)
as means to control and retaliate
against women, 25
patriarchal structures,
relationship between, 26
peace psychology as way to
transfonn, 19
prevalence, 19
social learning approach, 23
state protection, inadequacy of,
25-26
tranquil phase, 22-23
twenty-first century discourse,
26-27
Intrastate violence
authoritaIian personality theory,
46
increasing, 48
managing conflict, 44--45
Northern Ireland, conflict in (see
Northern Ireland, conflict in)
reconstructing societies postconflict, 48
relative deprivation theory, 46-47
social identity theory, 46-47
theoretical explanations, 39--41

unified model for
understanding, 45
Iraq, 341
Iraq-Iran War, 87
UNSCOM inspection, 216

J

James, William, 2,140,146,147,
148,350
Jerusalem Link. 348
Justice
compensatory, 258
retributive, 258
scope of, 9
social, 108-109, 283, 327
K
King,Jr., Martin Luther, 320, 321
Kleinian model, 93, 96
Klineberg, Otto, 3
L
Learning, cultural vs. technical,
206
Learning Communities Project,
237-238
Leviathan, 315
Liberal humanism, 295
Liberation psychology, 160-161,
279
development, 295
direct intervention, 304--305
South Mrican case (see South
Africa)
Localism, 149--150
Los Alamos Laboratory, 145
Low-<ontext cultures, 185, 186
M
Mandela, Nelson, 291
Many-sidedness of all phenomena,
317
Maslow, Abraham, 296, 297
Mass killings, 76 (see also Genocide;
Group violence)
United Nations' preventive
efforts, 86
McCarthy era, 3
McVeigh, Timothy, 154
Mediation, 202
women, 345
Media violence, 112, 114
Membership groups, 55, 56
Mexico
real wage level, 152
worker conditions, 152-153
Militarism
alternatives to,147-148
definition, 139
domestic violence in military, 145

Index
economics of, 143-144
excessive, traditional
explanations for, 141-143
as feminist theme, 345
financial costs, 139, 140-141
market forces, 144
masculinism, relationship
between, 144-146
military preparedness, 140-141
monetary basis for, 143-144
as mystical experience, 146-147
ritualized masculinity, 145
sexual assaults in military,
144-145
sexual terminology for missiles,
145
social injustice, 139
Minimum wage, 127
Mirror image, 4
Mobilization, 288
Monolithic society, vs. pluralistic
society,78
Moral exclusion
definition, 103
dimensions of, 105, 107
psychological bases, 103-105
twenty-first century approaches,
109
Morgenthau, Hans J., 58, 59
Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo (see
Grandmothers of the Plaza de
Mayo)
Multiple group memberships, 55
"Mutually Assured Destruction," 87
Mythmaking, 60-61, 62
N

Nagasaki, 91
Narcissistic group identity, 257
Nationalism
avaluative aspects of images,
56-57
"barbarian" image, 57
conditions that arouse, 59, GO
content aspects of images, 56-57,
58-59
"degenerate" image. 57
as human need, 49-51
ingroup bias (see Ingroup bias)
mythmaking (see Mythmaking)
narratives, 95
reference group theory (see
Reference group theory)
research agenda, 63-64
scaling hypothesis, 55
theories ofwar (see War)
twenty-first century prospects,
64--65
vs. patriotism, 52-53
war, relationship between, 59-62

421
NATO Implementation Force,
180
Nazi science, 353
Networking, 288
Nike, working conditions, 151-152
Nongovernment organizations,
282, 346-347
Non-membership groups, 55, 56
Nonviolence (see also Gandhi,
Mohandas It)
direct action, 316
practicality of, 320-321
North American Free Trade
Agreement, 152
Northern Ireland, conflict in, 341
authoritarian personality, as
fuctor in, 42
contact hypothesis, 45
economic disparities, 99
pluralism, need for, 48
relative deprivation theory, as
fuctor in, 42-43
segregation, 45
seif-eategorization, 44
seif-eoncept from communities,
40
social categorization in, 44
social comparison process in, 44
social identity theory, as fuctor in,
43-44

violence, last twenty-five years, 42
Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty,
92
Nuclear weapons, 87 (see also
Weapons of mass destruction)
implications of, 91
pride, as fuctor in countries
developing them, 141-142
ritualized rites of passage for
nuclear scientists, 146

o
OASSSA (see Organization for
Appropriate Social Services in
South Mrica)
Offense/defense ambignity, 142
Oppenheimer, Robert, 145
Organization for Appropriate
Social Services in South Mrica,
302-303, 305
p

Pakistan, 152
Patriarchy
definition, 130
structural violence in (see
Women/girls, structural
violence against)
Patriotism, vs. nationalism (see
Nationalism

Peace
forceful, 294
vs. war, thin line between, 140
Peace Brigade International
Peacebuilding, 11-12
of basic human needs, 279-280
decision making, women's
inclusion in, 345-346
with extended human rights,
166-167
feminist perspective, 341-342,
342-343, 344
by Gandhi (see Gandhi,
Mohandas It)
grassroots, women's, 343-346
human needs, satisfying, 370
as hlleration psychology (see
Liberation psychology)
non-Western models, 298
overview, 277, 278
structural (see Structural
peacebuilding)
sustainable communities,
promoting, 370
vs. peacemaking, 169, 178
women's peacebuilding, 342-346
Peace education
cooperation, 224-225
systemic approach, 225
transforming, 370
Peacekeeping, 169
changing precepts of, 175-176
humanitarian emergencies,
dealing with, 179-l8l
integrative approaches, 178
as "negative" approach, 170
political will, lack of, 178
inpost-ColdWar, 174-175
preventive deployment, 175
United Nations, evolution of,
174-175
vs. peacebuilding, 178
vs. peacemaking, 178
Peacemaking
Asian-Pacific case study, 185-186
in collectivistic cultures, 184-185
cultural relativity, 170-171, 183,
184,192
fictions, 192
in high-eontext cultures,
185-186
in low-context cultures, 185-186
non-Western models, 183,
184-185, 186
as "positive" approach, 170
as response to violent conflict,
169
vs. peacebuilding, 169
Western models, 183, 184, 185,
186

Index

422
Peace perspectives, children's
communication, 325
conceptions, 324
developmental considerations,
327-328
friendships, role of, 326-327
human values, 326-327
Netherlands, The, 325, 326
strategies, 324, 329
Sweden, 325, 326
twenty-first century perspectives,
328--329
Peace psychologists
activism, 357-359
consulation, 356-358
future roles, 361-362
orgins, 351-351
policy influencing, 359-361
sensitization, 354-356
Peace psychology
activism vs. analysis, 366
emergence of discipline, 1
expansion, 363
four-way model, 364-365
intimate violence (see Intimate
violence)
levels of analysis, 369-370
pro-action vs. reaction, 367
scope, 7
twenty-first century challenges,
368--369
universalism vs. relativism,
366-367
Peaceworkers, 83
Pearl Harbor, 69 .
Peer mediation, 227-228 (see also
Schools, conflict resolution in)
Philippines, conditions for women,
154
Phillips Van Heusen, working
conditions, 153
Plura1istic society, vs. monolithic
society,78
Political systems
perpetuation of structural
violence, 135
women's role in decision making,
136-137
Pol Pot, 130
Post-Cold War era, 6-7
peacebuilding efforts, 295
Post-conflict reconstruction, 262
future goals of, 274
psychosocial intervention (see
Psychosocial intervention)
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,
245,267
Post-war reconstruction, 262
challenges, 262-263

psychosocial intervention (see
Psychosocial intervention)
Poverty
children, effects on, 120-124
distribution, global, 151
education of the poor, 332-333
healthcare for the poor, 332, 339
homelessness (see Homelessness)
psychological scars, 151
Power systems, embedded, 287
Prosocial behavior, 51
Prostitution
normalization of, 145
in PhiUipines, 154
servicing U.S. military, 145
Psychology
clinical (see Clinical psychology)
experimental (see Experimental
psychology)
human factors (see Human
factors psychology)
ofliberation (see Liberation
psychology)
mission of, 2
role during WWI and WWII, 2
social (seeSocia1 psychology)
Western, 157
Psychosocial intervention
Angola, 263
Bosnia, 245, 247, 248--250
challenges to, 264
Public education, 128--129

Q
Quality of life
indices, 12
of women and children, globally,
121
R
Racism, 305-306
RDT (see Relative deprivation
theory)
Realistic conflict theory, 32-33
Realist philosophy, 280, 315 (see
also Hobbes, Thomas)
Realist theory, 58--59
Realpolitik
challenges to, 4
Cold War, analysis of, 6
definition, 2
ideology, 3
logic of, 142, 144
realist discourse, 315
theory of war, 58--59
Vietnam War, analysis of, 4-5
Reason, 315
Reconciliation, in divided societies
(see also South Mrican Truth

and Reconciliation
Commission)
acknowledging other side of
division, 257
apology, 257-258
characteristics of divisions,
251-252
dialogue, 260
finding meaning of, 253, 254,
255
forgiveness, 257-258
justice, 259
past, role of, 255
policies, 261
reparation, 258--259
storytelling, 259, 260
testimony, 259-260
traditional institutions, role of,
260-262
truth, 256-257
Reconciliation, spiritual, 344
Reconstruction, post-war (see Postwar reconstruction)
Reference group theory, 55-56
Referent cognitions model, 46
Reich, Robert, 155
Relative deprivation theory, 40, 41
as factor in Northern Ireland (see
Northern Irleand, conflict in)
social identity theory,
relationship between, 46-47
Relativism, 278
Resources, social, distribution, 108
Rogers, Carl, 296
Rosenstrasse Protest, 322-333
Rwanda, 262, 305
controversy, 179
income and social disparities, 99
paramilitary organizations, 80
U.N. peacekeepers, 81

S
Scaling hypothesis, 55
Scapegoating, of homosexuals, 32
Schools, conflict resolution in (see
also Peace education)
age-appropriate materials,
238--239
case study 1, 225
case study 2, 225
case study 3, 228
case study 4, 234
case study 5, 236
case study 6, 237
five levels, 225
Levell; student disciplinary
system, 225, 227-228
Level 2; curriculum, 225,
228--233

Index
Level 3; pedagogy, 225, 233-235
Level 4; school culture, 225,
235-237
Level 5; community, 225, 237
overview, 223-224
restructuring, 224
systems perspective, 223-224,
225
Science, role injustice/peace,
252-354
Security,2
Self-actualization, 297
Self-categoriazation theory, 54
Self-categorization, 16
Self-determination, 287
Serbia, 61
Sexual abuse, 20 (sa also Intimate
violence)
SIT (sa Social identity theory)
Skinner, B. F., 2
Social change, 224
Social identity, 16
Social identity theory, 40, 41-42
anti-gay/Iesbian violence, as
factor in, 33
as explanation for ingroup bias,
53-54
as factor in Northern Ireland (sa
Norther Ireland, conflict in)
relative deprivation theory,
relationship between, 46-47
Social injustice (sa Injustice, social)
Social power differentials, 284
Social psychology, 2
Social resources (sa Resources,
social, distribution)
Social strain
nonviolent, 289-290
psychological dimensions,
290--291
sacrifice, 290
Social structure, 284
Society for the Psychological Study
of Social Issues, 3
Sodomy laws, 32 (sa also
Homosexuals, violence
against)
Somalia, 262
controversy, 179
South Mrica (sa also South African
Truth and Reconcilation
Commission)
historical ovelView, 299
liberation psychology in, 298--299
pschological considerations,
300--301
"torture report,· 303-304
truth and reconciliation
processes, 84

423
South African Truth and
Reconciliation Commission
forgiveness, issue of, 257-258
hearings, 259
justice, 258, 259
oi!iectives, 253
OIigins, 252
overview, 252
past issues, confronting, 255
psychologists involvement in, 306
reconciliation, defining meaning
of,253-254
reparation, 258--259
rituals, incorporation of, 260
testimony, 259-260
truth, establishing, 256
Soviet Union
American fears of, 1
humanization of citizens, 4
relations with United States, 1
(sa U.S.-Soviet relations)
SPSSI (sa Society for the
Psychological Study of Social
Issues)
Sri Lankan customs, 206
Stereotypes, 56
Storytelling, 259, 260
Structural peace, 285 (see also
Structural peacebuilding)
Structural peacebuilding (see also
Structural peace)
definition, 285
farmers hunger strike narrative,
282-283, 286, 290
global,294
leadership, 291-292
Philippine narrative, 283-284,
287,288--289, 290
vs. structural peace, 286
Structural strain, 286
Structural transformation, 286,
287-289
Structural victimization, 292
Structural violence, 8--10, 284-285
apartheid (sa Apartheid)
child and family selVices, role of,
333-335, 340
childhood learning, effect on,
123-125
children, effects on (see Children
and violence, global; Children
and violence, U.S.)
children/families, health care
for, 332
children/families, impact on,
320--321
circular relationship with direct
violence, 12, 13, 15
definition, 99

direct violence, leading to, 100
education of the poor, 332-333,
339,340
empowerment as way to change
(see Empowerment)
against gays/lesbians, 30--32 (sa
also Homosexuals, violence
against)

globalism, relationship between
(sa Globalism)
homelessness (see Homelessness)
human rights violations (sa
Human rights violations)
militarism (sa Militarism)
parenting, impact on, 123
patriarchal structures,
relationship between, 100,
101, 130, 131-132
prevention, 155-157
social injustice, relationship
between (see Injustice, social)
twenty-first-century approaches
to,125-129
vs. direct violence, 99
women, girls, against (sa
Women/girls, structural
violence against)
Symbolic attitudes, 34
Systemic disequilibrium, 286
System of peace, 12
System of violence, 12

T
Tailhook scandal, 145
Terrorism, hate crimes (sa Hate
crimes)
Thailand
sex industry, 145
trafficking in women, 154
TRANSCEND method
cognitive dissonances, 214-217
cognitive expansion, 214
consonances, new, 215-217
dialogue, 215
ovelView, 212
psychology, deeper level,
217-220
reframing, 214
TRC (see South Mrican Truth and
Reconciliation Commission)
Tre-dty of Westphalia, 81
Tli-Valley Citizens, 155-156
Truth and Reconiliation
Commission (see South Mrican
Truth and Reconciliation
Commission)
Truth commissions and tribunals,
84
Tutu, Desmond, 253

424
U
Uganda,262
Ukraine, trafficking in women, 154
Uma Bawang Residents
Association, 156
Underemployment, 122
Unemployment, 122, 126--127
UNICEF, 269, 272
United Nations
Cold War responses, 173
Cyprus peacekeeping forces, 169
evolution of, 174-175
expansion of peacekeeping,
1990s, 175-176
humanitarian emergencies,
dealing with, 179-181
Lessons Learned Unit, 176--179
operational environment,
responding to changes in, 181
origins, 174, 182
peacekeeping operations, 173
Platform for Action, 348
soldiers, 173
United Nations Genocide
Convention, 76, 81
U.S.-Soviet relations, 1,3 (see also
Soviet Union)
balance of power, 6
Cold War tensions (see Cold War)
interdependence, 5
Utopic systems, 285
V

Victims, devaluation of, 78
Vietnam, 152
Vietnam War
cultural differences, 202

Index
mediation, 202
Realpolitik analysis, 4-5
Views ofknowledge, 207-208
Violence
children, involving (see Children
and violence, in U.S.)
direct (see Direct violence)
structural (see Structural
violence)
Virtuous spiral, 93
W

War (see also specific wars)
aversion to, 66
causes, 66
folk theory (see Folk theory)
intra-state, 262
nationalism, relationship
between (see Nationalism)
normative values, 67
prevention, 274
realist theory (see Realist theory)
Realpolitik theory (see
Realpolitik)
as test of manhood, 144
vs. human nature, 66
vs. peace, thin line between,
140

Weapons of mass destruction
beliefs that led to, 88
biological weapons, 87
changing attitudes/beliefs
toward, 93-97
chemical weapons, 87
fears fueling development of, 91
historical overview, 87-89
industrialization, effect of, 90

nuclear weapons (see nuclear
weapons)
post-Cold War, 92-93
systemic spirals, 9~91
underlying/ core relational
schema, 89-90
White, Ralph It, 4, 5-6, 354
Women/ girls, structural violence
against (see also Gender
inequality
economics, 133-135
female infanticide (see Female
infanticide)
food/health care distribution,
132,154
male vs. female population ratios,
130
private sphere, relegation to,
135-136
socio-cultural systems, 131-133
staus in South Africa, 297
by U.S. military, 135
Women's peacebuilding (see
Peacebuilding)
Women's spirituality, 344
World War I, underlying/ core
relational scheme leading to,
89
World War II
integrative complexity during
(see Integrative complexity)
post traumatic thinking, 91
traumatic memory, 245
weapon use, 66
Z

Zero-sum thinking, 104

TEXT CREDITS

(p. 19) "Intimate Violence," by Naomi Abrahams. Used with pennission.
(p. 28) "Anti-Gay/Lesbian Violence in the United States," by Bianca Cody Murphy. Used with pennission.
(p.39) "Intrastate Violence," by Ulrike Niens and Ed Cairns. Used with pennission.
(p. 49) "Nationalism and War: A Social-Psychological Perspective," by Daniel Druckman. Used with
pennission.
(p. 66) "Integrative Complexity and Political Decisions that Lead to War or Peace," by Lucian Gideon
Conway III, Peter Suedfeld, and Philip E. Tetlock. Used with pennission.
(p. 76) "Genocide and Mass Killing: Their Roots and Prevention," by Ervin Staub. Used with pennission.
(p. 87) "Weapons of Mass Destruction,· by Michael Britton. Used with permission.
(p. 102) "Social Injustice," by Susan Opotow. Used with pennission.
(p. 110) "The War Close to Home: Children and Violence in the United States," by Kathleen Kostelny
and James Garbarino. Used with pennission.
(p. 120) "Children and Structural Violence," by Milton Schwebel and Daniel J. Christie. Used with
pennission.
(p. 130) "Women, Girls, and Structural Violence: A Global Analysis," by Dyan Mazurana and Susan
McKay. Used with pennission.
(p. 139) "Understanding Militarism: Money, Masculinity, and the Search for the Mystical," by Deborah
Du Nann Winter, Marc Pilisuk, Sara Houck, and Matthew Lee. Used with pennission.
(p. 149) "Globalism and Structural Violence," by Marc Pilisuk. Used with pennission.
(p. 158) "Human Rights Violations as Structural Violence," by M. Brinton Lykes. Used with pennission.
(p. 173) "U.N. Peacekeeping: Confronting the Psychological Environment of War in the Twenty-first
Century," by Harvey J. Langholn and Peter Leenges. Used with pennission.
(p. 183) "The Cultural Context of Peacemaking," l?y Paul B. Pedersen. Used with pennission.
(p. 193) "Conflict Resolution: Theoretical and Practical Issues," by Ann Sanson and Di Bretherton. Used
with pennission.
(p. 210) "Crafting Peace: On the Psychology of the TRANSCEND Approach," by Johan Galtung and
Finn Tschudi. Used with pennission.
(p. 223) "Introducing Cooperation and Conflict Resolution into Schools: A Systems Approach," by Peter
Coleman and Morton Deutsch. Used with pennission.
(p. 240) "Reducing Trauma during Ethno-Political Conflict: A Personal Account of Psycho-social Work
under War Conditions in Bosnia," by Inger Agger. Used with pennission.
(p. 251) "Reconciliation in Divided Societies," by Cheryl de la Rey. Used with pennission.
(p. 262) "Psychosociallnterventions and Post-war Reconstruction in Angola: Interweaving Western and
Traditional Approaches," by Michael Wessells and Carlinda Monteiro. Used witll permission.
(p. 282) "Toward a Psychology of Structural Peacebuilding," by Cristina Jayme Montiel. Used with
permission.

425

426

Text Credits

(p. 295) "Psychologies for Liberation: Views from Elsewhere," by Andy Dawes. Used with permission.
(p. 307) "Gandhi as Peacebuilder: The Social Psychology of Satyagraha," by Daniel M. Mayton II. Used
with permission.
(p. 3l4) "Peacebuilding and Nonviolence: Gandhi's Perspective on Power," by Manfred B. Steger. Used
with permission.
(p. 324) "Giving Voice to Children's Perspectives on Peace," by lisa Hakvoort and Solveig Hagglund.
Used with permission.
(p. 330) "Redressing Structural Violence against Children: Empowerment-based Interventions and Research," by Linda Webster and Douglas B. Perkins. Used with permission.
(p. 341) "Gendering Peacebuilding," by Susan McKay and DydIl Mazurana. Used with permission.
(p. 350) "Psychologists Maldng a Difference in the Public Arena: Building Cultures of Peace," by Michael
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