A year of progress: Afghanistan and Pakistan tackle the Taliban together

Hubert Cruz

At the start of 2015, the hopes of ending Taliban violence in Afghanistan and Pakistan were dim. Thirteen years after the overthrow of the Taliban regime, Afghanistan is still haunted by the insurgency, with almost 3,700 civilian deaths recorded in the previous year. Similarly, in Pakistan, the Peshawar school attack in 2014 left the entire nation in shock. 

The deep levels of mistrust between Afghanistan and Pakistan has often made mutual cooperation to neutralise the Taliban threat seem like a distant hope. Since the Taliban’s inception in 1994, the Pakistani army had provided substantial military and financial assistance to support its operations in Afghanistan and played a critical role in ousting the Afghan civilian government in the late 1990s. Although Pakistan claimed to have ceased supporting the group after the September 11 attacks, it remains a widely held belief that the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), a major intelligence agency of the Pakistani government, continues to shelter Taliban militants in major cities, such as Quetta and Karachi, and maintain ties with senior members of the group.

Nevertheless, in recent years, Pakistan has also suffered from the rise of the new insurgent group friendly to the Taliban movement in Afghanistan, Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP). The TTP is based along the Afghan-Pakistani border, particularly the Federally Administered Tribal Areas in Pakistan. The TTP attack on the Peshawar school seemed to mark an end to the Pakistani government's distinction of “good” and “bad” Taliban - the former referring to those attacking Afghanistan and the latter, those attacking Pakistan. Thus, the Pakistani government decided to round up Taliban and other insurgent groups in North Waziristan, who previously used the region as a base for strikes in Afghanistan - a significant departure from Pakistan's traditional policy.

The Afghan government has also taken active steps to patch up its relation with Pakistan. Since taking office in September 2014, President Ashraf Ghani has broken away from former President Hamid Karzai's antagonistic attitude to Pakistan. In an attempt to ease Pakistan’s apprehension of Afghanistan’s pro-India tendency, Ghani refused India’s offer to supply weaponry to Afghanistan. In addition, Ghani deployed forces to fight the TTP alongside Pakistan. Ghani’s gambit soon paid dividends as the Pakistani government was able to persuade the Taliban to take part in negotiations with the Afghan government, signifying a major breakthrough in the peace process. 

Such gestures offer glimmers of hope of eventual peace in the region. Nevertheless, factors remain that threaten the fragile and nascent peace process. For one, Ghani has faced internal criticism for cooperation with Pakistan. Suffering of Afghan citizens at the hands of Pakistani-supported Taliban forces has led to resentment towards Pakistan. With pressure from many sides, it is conceivable that Ghani might choose to abandon peace talks with Pakistan out of political expediency.

On the other side of the table, the Taliban is also divided over the peace talks. During negotiations in Murree, Pakistan, some Taliban officials claimed that those attending only represent the factions close to the ISI, not the entirety of the group. A day before the second round of negotiations, the death of the Taliban's founding leader, Mullah Omar struck the heart of the group with strife and chaos. High-ranking members accused the elected replacement, Mullah Mansour, for being responsible for the death of Omar and a subsequent cover-up. In December 2015, the Afghan government claimed that Mansour was seriously injured in a gun fight with other Taliban fighters, and later died of his injuries. The Taliban deny such claims and the disagreement threatens to end peace talks. 

On the eve of the new year, the people of Afghanistan and Pakistan will certainly have more reasons to be hopeful for lasting peace than twelve months ago. Nevertheless, the journey that lies ahead in 2016 will undoubtedly be tumultuous and fraught with complications. 

The Missing Voice in the Syrian Civil War

Adam Porter

In international coverage of the ongoing crisis in Syria, there is a surprising absence: Israel. For decades, Israel has been closely identified with the quagmire of Middle Eastern politics: the perpetual tension with Palestine occupying, in the popular imagination, the role of an analogy to the region’s wider problems. Yet if Israel was once the poster-boy for regional strife, it is no longer. That mantle is undoubtedly, and tragically, taken by Syria. Nevertheless, Israel remains conspicuously absent, seemingly disengaged from the crisis on its doorstep.

Disengagement makes sense, however, when one considers the choices before Israel. On the one hand is Daesh, ostensibly the ‘Islamic State’: a death cult committed to the elimination of both the Jewish state, and the Jewish people. On the other hand, the Syrian Government, a long-standing opponent accused of arming Hezbollah, and which still claims territory in the Golan Heights. Israel, in consequence, is content for its many enemies to shed one another’s blood, leaving each either too weak, or else too distracted, to pose a threat.

Unfortunately, this explanation cannot fully capture why Israel remains disengaged. Doubtless western powers are equally content to see Assad and Daesh exhaust themselves in a protracted conflict, but have nonetheless opted to take action. The difference, quite possibly, lies in that unlike Israel, western nations feel an obligation to assist regional partners, especially Iraq, given their deep and contentious involvement in recent conflicts. Israel, bereft of allies, has faced no such call to arms, and has found disengagement more attractive as a consequence.

A further, and perhaps the key, element to the story is domestic. For one, Israelis have not faced attacks by Daesh like those in Tunisia and Paris, and have not been motivated by the resulting clamour for action that was most recently noted in the British parliament. Crucially, Israel has been, and remains still, far more likely to face terrorist attacks planned from Gaza and the West Bank than from Syria. The defining relationship in Israeli foreign affairs (or domestic, depending on one’s perspective) is surely that with Palestine. In consequence, Israel’s overriding priority is domestic security, and Israel’s foreign policy, manifest in what some commentators have called a ‘siege mentality’, is an expression of this desire for security. In this sense, disengagement, neutrality in Syria is not incongruous with Israel’s prominence in the region, but rather consistent with Israel’s long-standing foreign policy, focused on the maintenance of domestic security.

Given Israel’s focus on the domestic, it is unsurprising that they have not as yet decided to intervene in Syria, given that neither Assad, nor Daesh, have yet struck out against Israel. Daesh, however, facing airstrikes in Iraq and Syria, increasingly reaches out beyond its borders to inflict violence abroad, with one Israeli official describing a Daesh attack in Israel as ‘Only a matter of time’. This is more likely hyperbole than sense. However, it illuminates a crucial conclusion: that while Israel remains a missing voice in the Syrian crisis at present, events that threaten Israel’s domestic security may yet find this voice being raised.

Farewell China: Hong Kong rises to stand on its own feet

Hubert Cruz

In October, the Hong Kong Football Association was fined CHF5000 by FIFA over supporters booing the Chinese national anthem in a World Cup qualifying match. Undeterred by FIFA’s punishment, Hong Kong fans jeered at the anthem again when they hosted China for another World Cup qualifier a month later. Banners in every corner that read “Hong Kong is not China” captured the attention of the international media. 

The use of sport events, especially football matches, to express the sentiments of fans on national and political divides is not unheard of. What is more surprising is the drastic change of the Hong Kong people’s national identity in less than two decades after the city was returned to Chinese control. The society’s shift from embracing motherland to rejecting Chinese identity could well be explained by Beijing’s attempt to tighten its grip on the city after the handover.

On reunification in 1997, Beijing promised that the people of Hong Kong could preserve their way of life under the “one country, two systems” principle. This means Hong Kong would adopt a separate political and economic system from the mainland where the rights and freedoms of citizens would continue to be safeguarded. In addition, the Hong Kong government would enjoy a high degree of autonomy over its domestic affairs, and universal suffrage would eventually be implemented. The pledge reassured Hong Kong society that its relatively open and democratic system would not be compromised under the city’s new status.

Nevertheless, the presence of Chinese influence in Hong Kong has grown more and more pervasive. In 2012, the Beijing-appointed government sought to introduce a national education curriculum that portrayed the Communist Party of China as “progressive, selfless and united”. The policy was considered blatant brainwashing and triggered massive protests, forcing the government to back down. Deliberate attempt to foster affinity to the mainland only highlighted the differences in values between Hong Kong and China.

Furthermore, Beijing provoked huge social discontent by unilaterally settling Chinese citizens in Hong Kong. After the handover, the Chinese authorities devised the “one way permit” scheme that allowed certain Chinese citizens to apply for settlement in Hong Kong. The policy was conducted without the consent of Hong Kong’s immigration authorities, and continues to take place to this day. Since then, the number of mainland immigrants has surged to 760,000, equivalent to more than 10% of the city’s population. The policy has been criticised as a stampede on Hong Kong’s autonomy that resembles settler colonialism, and has significantly strained Hong Kong’s education, housing and welfare system.

Beijing’s well-known intolerance to dissent is embodied by its repeated obstruction to adopt universal suffrage in Hong Kong. It continues to pull the strings and interfere with the autonomy of the city through a puppet government. Having seen the promises of “one country, two systems” reneged on every possible front, the rage of Hong Kong eventually burst out and the people took to the streets last year, after Beijing imposed stringent restrictions on the next Chief Executive election that implied only Beijing’s preferred candidate could win. 

Thought the 79-day Umbrella Revolution did not result in any substantial democratisation, the disillusionment of the Hong Kong society to Chinese rule was apparent. Many civic organisations and political parties have been established with the mission to preserve local culture and defend the city’s core values from Chinese encroachment. They have raised public awareness on issues that were previously neglected, such as the displacement of Cantonese by Mandarin in schools, and the disturbance to local communities by Chinese parallel traders. While advocacy for self-determination remains at a nascent stage, there is growing consensus that Hong Kong needs to escape Chinese rule.

In the end, Hong Kong held China to a goalless draw, leaving both teams unlikely to progress to the next stage of the tournament. At the same time, FIFA has also initiated a new investigation into the fans’ behaviour, with harsher punishment expected to be handed down. Despite the adversities, the people of Hong Kong have never been prouder to support their team.

Are international legal barriers sufficient?

Khoo Wu Shaun

We live in a time when international law has steadily become an accepted norm of global diplomacy. Today, unilateral invasions of other sovereign countries are decried as ‘violations of international law’; barely a century ago, the only sounds anyone heard were those of the victors announcing their success. We have come quite a long way since Bentham first coined this term in the 18th century.

Yet, international law has not shed its image of being toothless. We have seen countries act in defiance of international law, but leave happily unpunished for their transgressions. This article will examine what these international legal barriers are, and whether they are currently sufficient to deter countries from intruding on the sovereignty of other nation-states.

Questions of legality in an international context are far more complex than those in a local context. Within a country, sovereignty empowers the government to set and enforce laws on people within its jurisdiction. Globally, it is difficult to define any clear overriding principle or government which can fulfil those roles. Our closest option is the United Nations (UN), an inter-governmental organisation which serves to promote peace and cooperation between member states. The International Court of Justice (ICJ), founded in 1945, serves as the UN’s judicial branch. Its purpose is to settle legal disputes submitted to it by member states and provide advisory opinions on legal questions for the UN bodies. But, since there is no global legislation for international law, where do these legal barriers we apparently pay homage to come from?

In the landmark North Sea Continental Shelf case, the ICJ affirmed that there are two primary sources of international law: treaties, or customary international law (CIL). Treaties are more enforceable than custom, as the countries have explicitly consented to the provisions contained within the document. In contrast, CIL is derived from customary practices between states. 

Most are aware that UN Security Council (UNSC) resolutions are legally binding on all member states in the UN. In some sense, UNSC resolutions also serve as a form of international law, since it applies to all countries regardless of whether they agree with the content of the resolution. Since their legal authority flows from the UN Charter, UNSC resolutions fall under the first category of treaties and agreements. 

Thus, international jurisprudence clearly exists, although it is less obvious than national legislation. Another question arises here: since there is no global government, what kind of punishments can international law mete out, and are these effective?

Theoretically speaking, the ICJ enjoys unfettered discretion in handing down punishments to countries which have violated international law, since there is no “international legislation” which states the maximum or minimum punishment for a particular offence. Realistically, the ICJ has little room to mete out harsh punishments, as their credibility hinges on countries viewing the ICJ as a fair judicial body, and not an overly strict and punitive institution. Despite this, the ICJ has doled out quite a few punishments, from ordering a country to withdraw from an occupied territory to ordering reparations for damages. Crucially, ICJ judgements are influential in global discourse. In the case of the Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, the ICJ ruling that Israel had violated international law served as a powerful riposte to Israel’s constant denial to the contrary.

Although the ICJ seems toothless, its judgements are actually supported by the UN Charter, which empowers the UNSC to impose punitive measures for non-compliance, such as political and economic sanctions. Interestingly, most countries voluntarily comply with the judgement even if it was not in their favour. Countries are aware that if they lose and refuse to follow ICJ judgements, they will become outcasts for refusing to comply with international law. It is telling that no country has ever blatantly refused to comply with ICJ judgements. 

Akin to how punishments deter people from harming other citizens, international law also serves to deter countries from harming the sovereignty of other nation-states. Examples of such actions include the use of force in disputed maritime areas or intentional neglect of transboundary crises. Is international law sufficiently robust as a deterrent to such actions? 

While treaties and agreements are legally binding, they also require all parties to unambiguously agree not to carry out certain actions.If, however, the country has a strong incentive to keep their options open, they would simply refuse to sign. For example, Israel and India are both powerful nuclear-armed states which have not signed the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty due to regional security concerns. This hurts the treaty’s objective to prevent the spread of nuclear weapons and its associated technology.

Perhaps UNSC resolutions are a better option since the resolutions are binding on all countries, circumventing the problem of requiring consent. However, the UNSC is only empowered to use its power in cases of “the maintenance of international peace and security”— hardly applicable to most problems in the world. Furthermore, the UNSC itself comprises countries which can protect their interests against the weight of international law – Russia and its annexation of Crimea come to mind here – and may not work in intractable situations.

The last possibility is customary international law, which appears to be the weakest tool of all three legal instruments. Yet some fundamental international principles— the right of international passage, rules on the use of force, and the duty to cooperate in transboundary environmental harm— were first conceptualised and subsequently reinforced in ICJ cases. These landmark cases have reinforced widespread agreement on certain issues, and crystallised this consensus into official CIL, thereby ensuring its fair application to all countries involved. Moreover, as we’ve seen, the ICJ has the influence and backing to ensure that its judgements are respected by the countries involved in disputes.

One drawback is that the ICJ does not have legal jurisdiction unless both countries declare they recognise the authority of the court. Some countries who have yet to officially acknowledge the ICJ have still proceeded with cases in it, somewhat undermining its authority. Furthermore, the Permanent Court of Arbitration (PCA), another international judicial body, recently ruled that it had jurisdiction over the Philippines’ case on China’s maritime and military activities in the South China Sea, despite China’s opposition to the proceedings. This demonstrates the growing force of international law which is slowly increasing its ability to influence global discourse and pressure countries into accepting its jurisdiction. This strengthens international legal barriers against unilateral intrusions on the sovereignty of other nation-states.

The implications of this are obvious. National legislation protects citizens, especially vulnerable ones, from harm. Similarly, international law functions as a protective barrier which shields weaker countries from the coercive pressures of stronger countries. In Nicaragua v. United States of America, the court ruled that the U.S. had illegally trained and funded anti-government rebels to overthrow the incumbent anti-American government. This sent a powerful message to the global community that superpowers cannot do as they wish: they are equally held to task by international law. 

Furthermore, global peer pressure and a body willing to persecute countries for illegal actions acts as a deterrent. For example, the U.S.’s foreign surveillance programme, PRISM, was criticised by government officials and legal experts from all over the world, forcing President Barack Obama to strengthen restrictions on the National Security Agency (NSA). In the past, the U.S. would have simply turned a deaf ear.

Having a strong understanding of its foundations, powers, and limitations is crucial towards developing this fledgling institution into an influential force for good in the world. Supranational judicial institutions, such as the ICJ and the PCA, still struggle for influence in countries where the rule of law and human rights protections are not as well-respected. It remains an uphill battle for these international courts as they slowly overturn the old belief that countries may do what they please as long as it is within their borders, or if they are the victors.

More essentially, international law serves as a platform for countries to tussle with each other over serious, but not drastic or permanent, intrusions of national sovereignty. In the past, the only available responses were acquiescence or full-out war. Today, international judicial bodies enable these countries to settle their disputes in a fair and peaceful manner. That must surely be the most important contribution that international law can make to the global community.

Nation-building in Kazakhstan after the fall of the Soviet Union

Occupied by Mongol and Russian Empires and forming part of the USSR, the question of independent Kazakh identity has always been fraught with complications. Soviet repression in the 1920s and 30s, resulting in crises of starvation, mass emigration, and purges of the Kazakh intelligentsia, led to a 38% decline in the population of Kazakhstan. Described in J. Melich's article on nation-building and cultural policy in Kazakhstan as Stalin's personal "dumping ground for ethnic groups whose loyalties were in doubt", in the 1930s and 40s millions of Russian political prisoners and "alien" ethnic groups were exiled to Kazakhstan. 

Decades of war, famine, and Russian resettlements took their toll. By the 1960s, the native Kazakhs were an ethnic minority on their own soil, comprising just 30% of the population. Ethnic dominance became mirrored in linguistic dominance, and, even today, Russian is the dominant language of Kazakhstan. 

Twenty five years after the fall of the Soviet Union and the country's Communist-era leader, Nursultan Nazarbayev, is still in power. Severely criticised for his authoritarian style of leadership by Human Rights Watch, Nazarbayev has also been implicated in numerous human rights scandals, most notably his harsh suppression of political opposition. 

In the country's 2004 elections, opposition parties which were officially permitted to participate in the elections won just one seat. Subsequent victories in 2005, 2011, and 2015, saw Nazarbayev attain landslide victories of 90%, 96%, and 98%. Nevertheless, the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe declared that the Kazakhstani elections fell short of international standards. While standards of living for ordinary Kazakhs continue to worsen, according to The Guardian, Nazarbayev has "amassed a fortune, making him one of the richest men in the world".  

The government's attempts to legitimise itself and its present power are implicit in the attempts to both reconnect with its traditional past and look to future in creating a modern vision of Kazakhstan. The government's concern with establishing a sense of Kazakh heritage is reflected in the rise in the number of national museums from 87 to 224 in the years 1995-2013. As an institution promoting patriotism and heritage, the inauguration of national museums in Kazakhstan within the context of nation-building is hardly surprising. 

Another manifestation of this nation-building is the country's young capital, Astana. Awash with futuristic architecture, Astana, meaning “capital” in Kazakh, certainly gives the sense of a purpose built capital. Naming the capital after Nazarbayev himself, the most popular alternative after "Astana", reflects the President's centrality in this creation of a national brand. 

The Bayterek monument and observation tower in Astana is one of the most spectacular expressions of this nation-building. 105m in height, enormous white girders branch out like arms of a tree to support a 22m wide golden sphere. The structure symbolises the ancient Kazakh folktale of a mythical tree of life in which a magical bird lays an egg containing the secrets of happiness. An observation deck inside the golden "egg" offers a panorama of Astana's skyline, dominated by President Nazarbayev's sumptuous presidential palace. After soaking up the view, visitors are invited to place their palms in a gilded hand print of Nazarbayev and make a wish. 

Another example of Astana's cutting-edge architecture is the Khan Shatyr shopping centre. Alongside its own flume ride and a 500m long monorail, the centre also boats of an artificial beach, complete with sand straight from the Maldives. The centre's yurt-like silhouette can be seen, like the Bayterek monument, as part of the deliberate fusion of neo-futurist innovation and ancient Kazakh tradition that is key to the national "image" sculpted, from above, by the Kazakh government. 

You need only drive a few kilometres out of the city, before the utopian skyscrapers and shiny glass structures come metaphorically crashing and crumbling down and you are confronted with the crushingly flat, undeveloped, expanse that characterizes most of Kazakhstan's remaining landscape. 

With such disparity between city and provincial life and between standards of living for ordinary citizens versus government leaders, the question arises of to what extent Kazakhstan's top-down nation building is in fact based around the needs, desires, and traditions of the Kazakhstani people.