2.1 Reconceptualizing Peace and Security

Peace is an ‘elusive dependent variable’ (Reference GoertzGoertz 2020) that means many different things to many different people, which can make measurement and inclusion into analysis challenging. While the termination of war is a minimum conceptualization in research and in practice, broader notions that have shaped the international debate are related to the United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goals (United Nations 2015a, 2015b, 2015c). Empirical evidence abounds that one-size-fits-all approaches to peacebuilding do not work and are actually part of the problem, as they use a minimalist concept of peace as absence of war and lack context sensitivity (Reference 64KurtenbachKurtenbach 2017a). For that reason, a series of new approaches to adaptive, pragmatic, illiberal, or relational peacebuilding (Reference PiccolinoPiccolino 2015; Reference Brigg, Debiel, Held and SchneckenerBrigg 2016; de Reference ConingConing 2018; Reference StepputatStepputat 2018; Reference Lewis, Heathershaw and MegoranLewis, Heathershaw, and Megoran 2018) has emerged. Others have framed peace as an everyday experience (Reference FirchowFirchow 2018; Reference MillarMillar 2020; Reference MacGintyMacGinty 2021) or a multiscalar process (Reference MillarMillar 2021), or have analysed varieties of peace (Reference Olivius and ÅkeboOlivius and Åkebo 2021). At the core of all these approaches stands the acknowledgement that the interaction between actors and structures at different levels (local, sub-national, national, international) leads to very context-specific entanglements that shape the varieties of peace and the pathways towards it. At the same time, the meaning of peace is highly specific to the given cultural and historical contexts (Reference GaltungGaltung 1981; Reference BouldingBoulding 2000). These perceptions of peace and peacebuilding can vary in a specific context between social and political actors and may or may not be in line with approaches that external actors bring in. Thus, the challenge is to provide bridges between these meanings and the related expectations on peacebuilding. Peacebuilding also needs to integrate the different dimensions and approaches ‘vertically’ (Reference McCandless, Abitbol and DonaisMcCandless, Abitbol, and Donais 2015, 3–4) by ‘building effective, accountable state institutions and restoring social relationships, as well as … linking both sets of processes’. Hence, we understand peace and peacebuilding as complex and often contentious processes (Reference ReganRegan 2014; Reference DiehlDiehl 2016), whose analysis of the opportunities and the challenges must start from the relevant conflicts in a society (Reference Kurtenbach and CareyKurtenbach 2020). As old conflicts persist or reproduce, new conflicts arise, which makes peacebuilding a ‘perpetual’ task (Reference PaffenholzPaffenholz 2021).

The reconceptualization of peace has broader implications for conceptualizing security and SSR. The relationship between peace and security is historically complex and has changed in recent decades (Reference Wæver, Guzzini and JungWæver 2003). Similar to the broader current conceptualizations of peace, security frames, at least theoretically, left behind the minimalist notion of ‘national security’ towards ‘human or intersectional security’ (Reference Muthien, Reardon and HansMuthien 2018). This is highly relevant for SSR. If peace is not just contrary to war but to various forms of direct physical violence (Reference PearcePearce 2016; Reference Kurtenbach and CareyKurtenbach 2020), and the main target of security is the general population, any attempts at SSR should not only tackle war-related violence but also address multiple forms of political and societal or ‘criminal’ violence that fundamentally violate the social contract between the state and its people.

Controlling direct physical violence is a central task in all societies, or is at least one of the elementary core functions (Reference EliasElias 1987). However, violence against some populations such as ethnic minorities, women, or children may be justified by different actors because these groups are not considered ‘citizens’ in their eyes and are thus deprived of the right to physical integrity and other fundamental rights (Reference WalbyWalby 2013). The underlying mechanisms of exclusion can be observed prior to and in contexts of armed conflict and war, where these populations are framed as ‘enemies’ endangering the status quo of the existing order. Even if the question of how violence can be controlled may be controversial, the question of whether it is important to control violence is largely undisputed. The discussions about the legitimization of different forms of violence or their causes – for example, in the context of revolutions or insurrections – confirm this statement (Reference HoldtHoldt 2012).

Regarding post-war contexts, research has specifically examined war recurrence (Reference Binningsbø, Buhaug and DahlBinningsbø, Buhaug, and Dahl 2012; Reference CallCall 2012; Reference DalyDaly 2014; Reference BergBerg 2020), but is increasingly acknowledging the need to leave behind the compartmentalization of different forms of violence and pursue an integrated and comprehensive analysis (Reference BarnesBarnes 2017; Reference Bara, Deglow and van BaalenBara, Deglow, and van Baalen 2021). There is no clear-cut boundary, either in war or in post-war contexts, between different forms of violence (Reference KalyvasKalyvas 2006; Reference Andreas and GreenhillAndreas and Greenhill 2010; Reference BarnesBarnes 2017). Empirical evidence shows how different forms of violence influence the overall peacebuilding process either because peacebuilding is a contentious process (Reference Birke Daniels and KurtenbachBirke Daniels and Kurtenbach 2021) or via the re-traumatization of civilians and the empowerment of state and non-state armed actors (; Reference DarbyDarby 2006; Reference SteenkampSteenkamp 2011; Reference KurtenbachKurtenbach 2013; Reference Gartner and KennedyGartner and Kennedy 2018).

This is consequential for SSR. UN Security Council Resolution 2151 (2014) on SSR explicitly recognizes the link between SSR and armed violence reduction, as do the UN reports on sustainable peace (United Nations 2015a, 2015c). From this perspective, SSR is linked to a broader understanding of public security beyond the security of former combatants towards the general population (Reference Call and StanleyCall and Stanley 2001). These innovative perspectives are central to the analysis of SSR, as they highlight the political character of post-war institutional reforms.

2.2 Functional Equivalents to State Institutions

To comprehensively analyse SSR from a state–society perspective, we need to draw attention to the fact that the state is neither a homogeneous actor nor the only provider of security and justice. Particularly in areas of limited statehood, security providers are as variegated as manifestations of violence (Reference Baker and ScheyeBaker and Scheye 2007; Reference Baker and SedraBaker 2010; Reference Albrecht and KyedAlbrecht and Kyed 2015). Critical security studies have widely acknowledged the importance of security providers beyond the state and context-specific perceptions of security (Reference LuckhamLuckham 2015, Reference Luckham2017; Reference SedraSedra 2018; Reference BrownBrown 2020). Society is a social space constituted by the struggles and relationships between different social formations. Functional equivalents of state institutions are an explicit part of the landscape of a society’s security and justice sector; this has either not been acknowledged or has been perceived as too challenging by international policy actors as it goes against the template of a Weberian state as the main reference frame for security and order. We define those functional equivalents as actors providing security and justice outside of the state system.

The ability of these groups to establish hierarchies, form alliances, use resources, enforce norms, and mobilize followers in a society determines power relations and their legitimacy structures (Reference MigdalMigdal 2001, 103–10). Therefore, the state is only one of many important actors in this area, which reflects the heterogeneity and complexity of society but also influences it. This reflects realities on the ground, where, in many places, the central state is not present or even part of the contentious processes of change and transformation. This ‘mélange’ and the reality of ‘simultaneous authority’ (Reference Albrecht and Wiuff MoeAlbrecht and Moe 2015) in contexts often framed as hybrid or multi-layered (cf. Reference AbrahamsenAbrahamsen 2016) needs to be the starting point for reform including bottom-up and top-down approaches from a state–society perspective. To assess the provision of security and justice by both state and non-state institutions and actors, we ask the following question: who provides security and justice, where, for whom, and by what means? This assessment will reveal insights into the inclusive or exclusive character of SSRs and enable us to determine the conditions under which SSRs contribute to long-term peace or to fragmented and fragile peace.

The pluralization of security governance (Reference Caparini, Bryden and CapariniCaparini 2006), including policing, the military, and the justice sector, has received increasing attention in the last decade and is by no means limited to the Global South or post-war contexts, but is a common feature across the globe. Empirical evidence offers an opportunity to classify these functional equivalents along (a) their relation to the state and/or civil society – that is, competition, delegation, or complementation; (b) their territorial scope (local, national, transnational); and (c) their means – that is, coercion, persuasion, or social control. None of these categories can be clearly delimited as overlaps are frequent.

There is a vivid debate about the specific characteristics of various non-state groups, the most prominent being insurgents, vigilantes, and organized crime, all of which provide security and justice governance in the territories they have major control over. What differs is their territorial scope and their relation to the state. ‘Rebel governance’ (Reference Arjona, Kasfir and MampillyArjona, Kasfir, and Mampilly 2015) mostly competes with the state, either to substitute it or to acquire or maintain control over a specific territory. Examples are so-called liberated zones where insurgents hold power for at least some period of time, such as during the Salvadorean civil war in Chalatenango, or the Taliban in the mountains of Afghanistan (Reference MoodieMoodie 2010; Reference TerpstraTerpstra 2020). Vigilante groups develop in the context of insecurity playing a complementary role to the state (Reference TapscottTapscott 2021). The Peruvian Rondas Campesinas (Reference SchubigerSchubiger 2021) is an example. Similar to vigilante groups, organized crime groups are not restricted to the context of armed conflict and provide what has been coined as ‘criminal’ governance (Reference LessingLessing 2021). Their relationship to the state and society varies between competition, cooperation, and even capture, depending on the specific power relations between these non-state actors at the local level and involvement of the state in these activities. The level of violence involved in their activities varies according to state response and the cohesiveness of the state security apparatus (Reference Duran-MartinezDuran-Martinez 2015). Regarding non-armed equivalents to state institutions, traditional or religious authorities are most prominent, fulfilling important services not only in dispute resolution or conflict mediation (Reference HoheHohe 2003) but also in violence prevention based on social control, persuasion, or informal rules. Traditional authorities in Northern Uganda are one of many examples.

Different in some ways – because they are not embedded into society like the previously mentioned groups – are private security companies (PSCs) and external actors. The state, international actors, and influential multinational corporations with an interest in security delegate certain functions to PSCs, either inside a country (to protect economic enterprises, for example) (Reference ArguetaArgueta 2012) or internationally (such as mercenary firms fighting on behalf of a third party during war (Wagner Group in Syria) or working in military reform in the context of SSR (Reference McFate, Abrahamsen and LeanderMcFate 2016). The PSCs then complement the state in the realm of security, which often results in a militarization of societal aspects (de Reference Groot and RegilmeGroot and Regilme 2022).

Last but not least, external actors may step in either for a specific time period as, for instance, interim or transitional governments (as was the case in Kosovo (Reference HolohanHolohan 2016) or Timor-Leste (Reference CroissantCroissant 2006), for example) or with a longer time horizon providing security guarantees, such as the United Kingdom in Sierra Leone (Reference Albrecht and JacksonAlbrecht and Jackson 2014). In these cases, a foreign state or a multilateral organization (NATO, UN, ECOWAS) or its delegates replace the post-war state in some of its core functions. Regarding gross violations of human rights, the International Criminal Court fulfils a complementary function for the signatories and steps in where these states are either not able or not willing to prosecute perpetrators. However, its presence might endanger the end of war (Reference ProrokProrok 2017). A similar complementary function can be observed for regional human rights courts, often accessed by victims and their organizations if national judicial systems are not responsive (Reference HuneeusHuneeus 2013). Here, compliance and implementation is difficult, as these institutions mostly do not have the power to enforce their verdicts or recommendations (except for the ICC, despite its own limited power).

The brief overview above provides evidence for the pluralization of security and justice governance by local, national, and international actors (Table 1). Their repertoires to enforce rules, achieve their goals, fulfil their mandate, or pursue their interests vary. While many of these equivalents are armed, others rely on traditional legitimacy, social control, or persuasion.

Table 1Overview on functional equivalents in the provision of security and justice

2.3 Human Rights

In post-war contexts and in relation to the examination of functional security equivalents mentioned earlier, we need to give specific importance to human rights in the provision of security. First of all, gross human rights violations, such as violations of physical integrity but also restrictions on political, civil, and collective human rights, accompany war and armed conflict and limit opportunities for societal participation and advocacy. Even where the collective violence of a war comes to an end, the right to physical integrity is not secured or protected for all parts of society (Reference Reardon and SnauwaertReardon and Snauwaert 2014). Functional equivalents to the state in the provision of security can be exclusionary and even fatal for opponents – as evidenced by al-Shabaab in Somalia or the criminal gangs in El Salvador. Thus, we argue that only those alternative security actors that adhere to the universal idea and the minimum standards of human rights can create constructive state–society relations and contribute to long-lasting peace beyond the termination of war and armed conflict.

Even though there has, rightly, been considerable criticism of ‘liberal’ peace and an international debate on the universality of human rights, a comprehensive conception of peace still requires normative reference points. Human rights – both individual and equal economic, social, and cultural – are important reference points for any analysis of a volatile environment: they are considered universal, covering the rights of all people in a society; and they have also been signed and ratified by the overwhelming majority of governments (Reference SenSen 2001). The fact that their implementation is only partial, and that the implementation contests existing power relations is a key challenge for peacebuilding, as is the Western bias in favour of individual human rights. The possible objection that a human rights framework again follows Western blueprints can be rebutted by arguing that the formulation of universal human rights was by no means a Western project, but that actors of the Global South had a significant influence and share in it. For example, Reference SikkinkSikkink (2014) has shown that Latin American countries were some of the main protagonists in the development of the idea of universal human rights. At the same time, there is a tendency to reduce human rights to those at the individual level (e.g., civil and political rights) and to ignore economic, social, and cultural rights of groups. External actors need a dual approach. Firstly, their policies and actions need to strictly adhere to fundamental human rights standards in order to prevent double standards or hypocrisy. This is difficult because the adherence to human rights cannot be restricted to SSR but will necessarily include other policy fields, such as economic relations and development cooperation. Secondly, cooperation with actors that do not respect fundamental human rights should be reduced to a minimum and creative ways to promote human rights should be found, such as through close cooperation, empowerment, and protection of marginalized groups and victims of human rights violations. This is not viable short-term but needs a longer commitment, as the experiences in Colombia show (Reference BouvierBouvier 2009). However, where there are no actors with even a minimum commitment to human rights, international actors should stay away or reduce cooperation to strictly humanitarian issues.

In post-war societies, the main focus of human rights considerations has been dealing with the past and coping with war atrocities. There has been broad but inconclusive debate on the interaction between war termination, peacebuilding, and transitional justice with the specific aim of tackling human rights violations. While some have argued that amnesties and other forms of impunity measures for perpetrators and conflict parties are a necessary evil to end war, others have argued that amnesties harm the transitions out of war (Reference FreemanFreeman 2009; Reference DancyDancy 2018; Reference Dancy and Wiebelhaus-BrahmDancy and Wiebelhaus-Brahm 2018; Reference DanielsDaniels 2020). Following the example of countries in transition from authoritarian to democratic governments (such as Argentina in 1983/4), national or international truth commissions have been established to document war crimes and identify responsibilities. However, explicit policies of reconciliation or recompensating victims are less common, and the prosecution of perpetrators has been carried out in only few cases. A similar debate is emerging on the relation between human rights and peacebuilding agendas, particularly the question of whether human rights need to be established as a universal norm in post-war societies above any other practical considerations of post-war peacebuilding. While positive feedback can be identified theoretically, the relation between human rights and peacebuilding is complicated and often contradictory, as the debate on peace versus justice shows (Reference ParlevlietParlevliet 2017; Reference ProrokProrok 2017). The concept of human rights can have various meanings, one of which refers to ‘a vision of good governance (highlighting process matters such as participation, accountability and transparency)’ (Reference ParlevlietParlevliet 2017, 341). This is highly relevant for SSR because it addresses the central means of security and justice provisions by various actors.

The reality of human rights in many post-war countries is dire. Even if we take a minimalist conception of peace as the absence of war and focus only on political and civil rights, it is not only the authoritarian or very violent post-war societies but also the ‘successful’ post-war societies of the early 1990s that show huge deficits in the area of human rights. In our sample of forty-two 10-year post-war episodes, only ten countries are rated ‘free’ (regarding political rights for at least 1 year). Only three of the ten countries are also rated free regarding civil liberties (Croatia, Israel, and United Kingdom; Serbia was rated free in civil liberties but not in political rights). Under the assumption that human rights are mechanisms of participation and accountability and thus key for governance, it becomes evident that they are also key for SSR. The inclusion of the whole set of human rights is also necessary from a peacebuilding perspective for the non-violent transformation of structural drivers of violence. Nevertheless, we need to consider that their implementation is often highly contentious and treated as an afterthought. In this context, state and non-state actors in the security sector are key to enabling or undermining non-violent conflict transformation. At the same time, a human rights framework for SSR is systematically related to strengthening both the rule of law and an independent judiciary, emphasizing the need for an integrated approach to SSR.

The evidence points to difficulties when dealing with human rights in the process of SSR. The establishment of and adherence to human rights frameworks is often only an afterthought in post-war countries, and at times not attended to at all. However, we argue that the focus on the wider society, and the inclusion and protection of all societal groups in the process of SSR, is pivotal on the pathway to peace.

2.4 Including Gender and Minorities

From a state–society perspective, with a special emphasis on human rights, the inclusion of gender and ethnic minorities into the design and implementation of SSR is key for long-lasting peace. Generally, the security sector is dominated by men and patriarchist power structures (Reference SjobergSjoberg 2014). Although the number of women in the judiciary and other institutions of the security sector is increasing, they are still a minority in top-ranking security sector positions such as the high courts, even in OECD countries (European Commission for the Efficiency of Justice (CEPEJ) 2018, 114). Representation and inclusion of women and minorities is important in two respects. First, the presence of these groups in parliament or other decision-making institutions matters for the codification of their rights in the legal frame. Second, representation in security sector institutions is important for the implementation of the respective laws and policies, as well as for changes in behaviour. This is even more the case in post-war societies in which ideas of toxic masculinity abet both the recruitment of combatants and overall violence against large parts of society. To counter these toxic conditions in the security sector, both international and local actors see the inclusion of aspects of gender into reform programmes as increasingly important (Reference True, Parisi, Caglar, Prugle and ZwingelTrue and Parisi 2013; Reference Ansorg and HaastrupAnsorg and Haastrup 2018). Strategies including hiring women into domains typically dominated by men to strengthen the role of women and femininity while promoting women’s contributions as distinct, accounting for the complexity of gender relations (cf. Reference True, Parisi, Caglar, Prugle and ZwingelTrue and Parisi 2013). Given the path dependency of security institutions in post-war societies, gender mainstreaming is hardly ever carried out radically in that it completely overturns existing patriarchal structures. Instead, change often happens in small, nonlinear steps. This became evident during police reform efforts in Afghanistan, where the more active participation of women in the security sector was prioritized at the outset of the international mission. The gender mainstreaming in the Ukraine during the 2010s, on the contrary, was largely driven by feminist actors from within Ukrainian society. With the appointment of Ekaterine Zguladze as first deputy minister of internal affairs of Ukraine, gender practices and norms within the Ukrainian police force fundamentally changed (Reference Ansorg and HaastrupAnsorg and Haastrup 2018, 1135).

Particularly in deeply divided societies with complex or overlapping ethnic cleavages, SSR often aims to mirror the given society in order to integrate all ethnic or societal groups into the security forces, often under the auspices of an international peacekeeping force. In Bosnia, the UN administration introduced ethnic quotas to ensure representation of all three minority ethnic groups in the security forces (Reference Collantes-Celador and ChandlerCollantes-Celador 2006, 60 f.). However, this has occasionally led to antagonism or discrimination against new colleagues, and some posts remained unfilled as no officer from the targeted ethnic group could be found for a particular region.

Equal ethnic representation can make a fundamental difference to the perception of safety in post-war countries. In Kosovo, for example, the inclusion of ethnic minorities in the police, judiciary, and so-called municipal community safety councils increased the perception of safety among respondents in the surveyed municipalities (Reference Gray and StrasheimGray and Strasheim 2016). However, the data show that it is not only about hiring ethnic minorities. Factors such as education, training, language, prejudice, and cost can be potential challenges to the inclusion of ethnic minority groups in the security sector. Representation of ethnic minorities, or even of former combatants who are seen as adversaries of the government, is of great importance in a post-war country. At the same time, this is one of the most contentious issues, as it often means inviting antagonism into the centre of the security services, and must therefore be accompanied by careful training and educational measures.

2.5 Security Sector Reform at the Interface between State and Society

Based on the considerations about the importance of state–society relations for SSR outlined above, the analysis of SSR processes in its four elements needs a broader focus.

Regarding the DDR of former combatants, a state–society perspective must include the whole range of non-state armed actors in the analysis as well as in the related policies and reintegration. This includes a holistic analysis of the relation between armed actors and society, as well as of the relations in and with the communities that reintegrate former combatants. Recent empirical evidence shows three major deficits. First, DDR initiatives rarely include non-state armed actors beyond those that signed a peace agreement (guerrilla groups, insurgents). Demands for the inclusion of other armed actors, such as non-state militias, form part of the second-generation SSR focus on hybrid security. Recent empirical evidence shows the conditions under which militias (pro- as well as anti-government) or local self-defence groups play a major role in post-war (in)security (Reference Munive and StepputatMunive and Stepputat 2015; Reference Carey and GonzálezCarey and González 2020; Reference Bolte, Joo and MukherjeeBolte, Joo, and Mukherjee 2021). Second, from a social cohesion and integration perspective, most DDR programmes focus on individual fighters and their demilitarization and demobilization, disregarding important social bonds and relations at the group level. Governments and donors fear the persistence of wartime bonds and their potential role for remobilization (de Reference Vries and WieginkVries and Wiegink 2011). Lastly, reintegration needs to focus on broader livelihoods and social integration beyond cash transfers or training (Reference SubediSubedi 2014; Reference Kaplan and NussioKaplan and Nussio 2018). Hence, from a state–society relations perspective, (re-)integration must focus more broadly on community building. The most important questions are: How can former combatants overcome their stigmatization or marginalization? How can programmes of economic and social (re-)integration avoid generating benefits for taking up arms? How can ‘violence specialists’ survive without the use of arms? And how can wartime bonds be transformed into constructive processes of building social cohesion?

A state–society approach to the reform of the armed forces and the police must complement the traditional emphasis on mandate, oversight, and efficiency with an analysis of the mobilization and social recruitment strategies. Functional equivalents to the state provision of security and justice need to be included in a comprehensive reform process. The representation and inclusion of women as well as ethnic minorities and other marginalized groups is an important issue (Reference ValasekValasek 2008; Reference Ansorg and GordonAnsorg and Gordon 2019; Reference Gordon, McHugh and TownsleyGordon, McHugh, and Townsley 2021). Key elements regarding the everyday functioning of the armed forces and the police for their relations with the society and the generation of trust and legitimacy are accountability and respect for human rights. This is a main deficit of police forces across the world, as the global Black Lives Matter movement has shown. Empirical evidence shows that even police reforms from scratch – that is, the abolition of existing police forces and the establishment of completely new institutions in their place – are highly dependent on the societal context (Reference NeildNeild 2001). Trust in the force is a long-term endeavour and can be built only in conjunction with a holistic approach to governance and accountability to increase the legitimacy of the armed forces (Reference GoldsmithGoldsmith 2005; Reference CruzCruz 2015). With a focus on state–society relations, the police forces are the most visible arm of the state at different levels and must therefore address the broader panorama of public security with a special emphasis on violence prevention, protection, and conflict transformation instead of repression. State institutions also need to clarify their relation to non-state equivalents, as these can either be complementary or contest state authority and thereby produce new conflicts.

Judicial reforms in most post-war societies are reduced to the important topic of coping with past war atrocities. This may have a retributive or restorative function for delegitimizing the use of violence (Reference Kim and SikkinkKim and Sikkink 2010) and prevent the recurrence of collective violence. Nevertheless, broader policies to promote human rights, accountability, and the rule of law are necessary as they serve as a central frame for state–society relations (Reference Donais and BarbakDonais and Barbak 2021) and are vital for other post-war reforms. Without an effective judiciary and the political will to bring perpetrators of violence amongst the different armed forces to court, impunity will prevail and undermine other reforms. El Salvador is a paradigmatic case that shows how a lack of judicial reforms jeopardizes societal peace and, as we can currently observe, also democracy (Reference KurtenbachKurtenbach 2019). At the same time, mechanisms of vertical or horizontal accountability might vary and include both formal and informal institutions, the latter mostly at the community level.

In sum, we argue that in order for SSR to establish peace in post-war societies, we need to apply a holistic, intersectional approach that does not exclusively focus on conflict parties and combatants, but instead takes the whole of society into account and looks at the dynamics between the security sector actors, war parties, and functional equivalents of state security institutions, as well as the wider community that is affected by ongoing violence and disorder (see Figure 1). It is important to prioritize a human rights approach that centres on the protection of human and civil rights within the security sector. This is strongly connected to the inclusion of marginalized genders and (ethnic) minorities into the design and implementation of SSR. Finally, we also propose moving beyond a measurement of peace as the mere absence of war, incorporating other forms of violence that might have implications for security and order in a society. This is a normative approach with a long-term perspective, but as Louise Reference AndersenAndersen (2011, 16) rightly observed, peacebuilding and institutional reforms are ‘intrinsically political’ and ‘lasting “solutions” emerge as the unintended consequences of social processes of negotiation, contestation, and adaptation, rather than as a causal outcome of certain inputs’.

Figure 1

SSR under a state–society perspective

Source: Author’s own elaboration

5.1 Disarmament, Demobilization, and Reintegration: (No) Role for Civil Society?

In our theoretical frame, we formulated that in order for a state–society perspective on DDR to contribute to peace in a society, it must include an analysis of the whole range of non-state armed actors, the relations between armed actors and society, and the relations in and with the communities that reintegrate former combatants. Other important questions are related to overcoming ex-combatants’ stigmatization and/or marginalization, in addition to patterns of economic and social inclusion that disincentivize the taking up of arms again. Finally, the transformation of war-time bonds into constructive processes of building social cohesion is also of great importance in post-war SSR.

Over the last two decades, both Afghanistan and Colombia experienced a number of processes aiming at the demobilization, demilitarization, and (re-)integration of non-state armed actors. Both countries see a variety of non-state armed actors operating in their territories, including rebels such as the Colombian guerrilla groups, or the Afghan Mujaheddin, militias, paramilitary groups, and drug organizations. Some of these groups are highly embedded in local power structures (e.g., Afghan local militias, warlords, or Colombian rebels in some places), while others have power due to their violent control of some territories. Nevertheless, the main difference between both countries is related to (a) the military situation and the patterns of war termination shaping the conditions of DDR; (b) different attitudes of civil society regarding demobilized actors; and (c) dissimilar levels and patterns of foreign engagement.

Colombia has a long tradition of disarming non-state armed actors, mostly via agreements and amnesties. During a variety of peace process, the demobilization of armed groups was initiated, starting with the Betancur administration (1982–1986). In 1985, FARC members and ex-combatants established the Unión Patriótica (UP), a leftist political party, but over 3,000 representatives, members, and candidates were murdered during the subsequent years (Melo Moreno and Centro de Memoria Histórica (Colombia) 2018). Between 1988 and 1991 talks between the government and eight guerrilla groups, including the M-19 and a splinter group of the ELN, Corriente de Renovación Socialista, demobilized 4,715 fighters. Again, protection and security for those demobilized was a major problem. Carlos Pizarro Leongómez, the leader of M-19 who had signed the peace agreement and was the M-19’s presidential candidate, was assassinated in April 1990, as had been two other presidential candidates, Bernardo Jaramillo of the UP in March 1990, and Luis Carlos Galán, the founder of Nuevo Liberalismo (New Liberalism), a splinter of the Liberal Party, in August 1989. Direct responsibility for these assassinations remains unclear but can be attributed to so-called sicarios or hitmen paid by large landowners, right-wing elites, organized crime, or others resisting any reform.

The 1990s saw an increase in violence in the context of the expansion of drug production and trafficking, a failed peace process between the government and the FARC-EP, and in 2002 the election of a rather authoritarian government under Álvaro Uribe (2002–2010). In the shadow of the attacks of 9/11, Uribe framed the guerrilla as narco-terrorists with whom negotiations were not possible. The only demobilization initiatives his government pursued were related to the paramilitary forces that considered themselves as a state-substitute in fighting the guerrilla groups (Reference RomeroRomero 2003). As Figures 6 and 7 show, more than 70,000 members of armed groups demobilized – most of them individually – and 13,000 FARC-EP fighters demobilized collectively after the signing of the peace agreement in 2016. The demobilization of the paramilitary groups was highly controversial because Uribe did not establish major conditions for demobilizing. Only after massive protests by national and international human rights organizations did the United Nations, and some European governments amend the legal basis (initially slightly), which was later revised by the Colombian Supreme Court to adhere to a minimum standard of accountability such as regarding truth telling (Reference Gutiérrez Sanín, González Peña and GiustozziGutiérrez Sanín and González Peña 2012). Human rights advocacy by international and national actors was necessary even though Colombia had signed the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court in 2002, as it had excluded war crimes for a period of 7 years after signing.

Figure 6

Colombia: Individual demobilization 2001–2021

Source: Author’s elaboration based on www.datos.gov.co/Inclusion-Social-y-Reconciliacion/Historico-de-personas-desmovilizadas/uea5-is6n/data

Figure 7

Colombia: Demobilized combatants per non-state armed group 2001–2020

Source: Author’s elaboration based on www.datos.gov.co/Justicia-y-Derecho/Desmovilizaciones-por-grupo-armado/wavk-2hmm

In Afghanistan, the United States armed forces and allied Afghan armed groups of the Northern Alliance killed between 8,000 and 12,000 members of the Taliban in 2001, ousting them from Kabul and witnessing their leader and others flee to Pakistan (Reference GiustozziGiustozzi 2019, 18). From 2003 to 2006 under the lead of the Japanese government, the DDR process implemented by UNDP targeted former members of the Afghan Military Forces and of non-state militias to encourage their transition into civilian life (Hartzell 2011; Figure 8). As part of the DDR programme, 63,000 non-state armed actors were disarmed and demobilized between 2003 and 2005 by the United Nations. The follow-up programme DIAG (Disbandment of Illegal Armed Groups) between 2006 and 2011 was led by the Afghan government and targeted the members of those more than 2,000 militias operating outside of Kabul and beyond the control of the central state. However, as the Taliban began to reorganize and violence increased in the context of the 2005 elections, external actors did little to enforce demobilization of local militias, instead trying to include them in counterinsurgency (Reference DerksenDerksen 2015). A significant number of former combatants were included into the newly established police forces and the Afghan National Army (ANA), although the official agreement was that they should not exceed 10–20 per cent. As Reference 61Giustozzi and GiustozziGiustozzi (2012a, 62) observed, there were significant levels of rearmament leading to an ‘unofficial compromise on disarmament and demobilization, involving the establishment of a facade process of disarmament, behind which non-state armed groups of various types would be allowed to continue to exist and sometimes prosper, as long as they were willing to pay at least lip service to the bureaucratic process and abstained from actively working against the government in charge’. Disarmament and demobilization in Afghanistan were only done half-heartedly, and combatants were often integrated into the existing security forces. Instead of a thorough demobilization of forces, this led to a perpetuation of the war logic in new structures.

Figure 8

Afghanistan: Disarmed and demobilized 2003–2005

Source: Authors representation based on UN data cited in (Hartzell 2011, 5)

Summarizing and comparing the experiences during the various DDR processes we can observe the following similarities.

Disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration included some non-state armed actors, but not all. The processes between these groups were different. In Colombia, for example, the guerrilla groups received full amnesty for laying down arms during the 1990s, but paramilitaries and the FARC-EP were submitted to transitional justice mechanisms, had to help clarify what they had done, and received reduced sentences. In Afghanistan, however, no such mechanisms were established. Taliban dispersed into the peripheral rural areas or across the border and other groups such as militias were privy to some reintegration packages including financial support, alphabetization, and vocational training. This points to the importance of the societal context in the process, as outlined in our theoretical framework. In Colombia, we can at least see an attempt at societal integration of former fighters, whereas this was not the case in Afghanistan.

In Colombia, there was a significant drop in violence after the process with the AUC (Figure 9); however, similar to Afghanistan (Figure 10), success was limited as fighters remobilized or joined other groups. The growing security crisis in Afghanistan ‘reinforced communities’ reliance on militias to provide safety, effectively legitimating the role of militia commanders’ (Hartzell 2011, 9)

Figure 9

Colombia: Violence 1989–2021

Source: Author’s elaboration based on Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP) https://ucdp.uu.se/country/100

Figure 10

Afghanistan: Violence 1989–2021

Source: Author’s elaboration based on Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP) https://ucdp.uu.se/country/700

Stigmatization and/or marginalization was not directed against demobilized ex-combatants in either country, but as the process did not include all non-state armed actors, both governments declared the remaining groups illegal, criminal actors. In Afghanistan, demobilized combatants were either integrated into the new armed forces and police forces or simply stayed at home in their communities. Caroline Hartzell (2011, 5) observed: ‘Between the war’s end and the program’s initiation, many AMF [Afghan Military Forces] combatants had become part-time soldiers and officers with family homes and strong ties to their local communities’. The process was somewhat different in Colombia due to the legal conditions of truth telling for reduced sentences under the Law of Peace and Justice (No. 975, 2005). Nevertheless, many paramilitaries were able to hold onto their violently acquired land and other resources, many thousands returned to combat, and the enabling structures stayed intact (Reference Gutiérrez Sanín, González Peña and GiustozziGutiérrez Sanín and González Peña 2012, 114–6). After the peace accord of 2016 the main difference was that FARC-EP combatants could demobilize collectively in so-called ETCR (Espacios Territoriales de Capacitación y Reintegración, Territorial Spaces for Capacitation and Reintegration). Experiences in these territories vary. Comparing different experiences, Reference Romero, Birke and KurtenbachRomero (2021, 123) noted:

However, again, ex-combatants were obliged to contribute to truth finding and to appear before the Special Judiciary for Peace, which investigated some major cases of gross human rights violations such as kidnapping.

Analysing these experiences under our state-society perspective, we can clearly see that they did not overcome the main deficits of mainstream DDR. The processes did not include non-state armed groups that did not sign a peace agreement; except for the DDR process with the FARC-EP, they focused on individual fighters and not on community building and, maybe most importantly, they did not provide civilian livelihoods to disincentivize taking up arms again.

5.2 Reforming the Armed Forces and the Police under the Logic of Counterinsurgency

While we have observed a series of similarities in the DDR processes of each country, reform of the state’s security institutions (armed forces and police) has looked very different. In Afghanistan, external actors established new institutions from scratch, even though a significant number of demobilized combatants from the anti-Taliban forces were admitted into these institutions. The USA took the lead regarding the armed forces, while Germany led the reform of the police. Reforms in Colombia aimed to strengthen the efficacy and increase the numerical strength of the existing institution. While external influence was limited compared to Afghanistan, the US-sponsored Plan Colombia stood at the core. Here, fighting drug production (and insurgency) were the main unaccomplished goals (GAO (US Government Accountability Office 2008). The Colombian police have been part of the Defence Ministry since the 1950s. The underlying rationale was to depoliticize the police after a decade of civil war between the main political parties.

In our theoretical chapter, we claimed that a state–society approach to the reform of the armed forces and the police must complement the traditional emphasis on mandate, oversight, and efficiency with an analysis of the mobilization and social recruitment strategies. From this perspective, the countries show similarities as mobilization and recruitment followed political criteria. In Afghanistan (Reference SedraSedra 2017, 172–88), a decree establishing the new ANA composed of 70,000 troops was issued in 2002 following the donor’s conference in Bonn, Germany. This process was heavily driven by rising insecurity due to the reorganization of the Taliban. Despite the introduction of an ethnic quota system in 2003, there was a huge imbalance: Hartzell (2011, 9) cited ‘data from an Afghan official in January 2010 [who] finds that Pashtuns represented 42.6 percent of the army, Tajiks 40.98 percent, Hazaras 7.68 percent, Uzbeks 4.05 percent, and other minorities 4.68 percent, and concludes that while the presence of Pashtuns at all levels of the military corresponds to their proportion of the general population, Tajiks continue to dominate the officer and non-commissioned officer ranks’. This imbalance reflects the country’s fragmentation and the – often violent – conflicts around attempts to centralize military power.

Like Afghanistan, the Colombian state never had a monopoly on force in the country and reforms were mostly a function of counterinsurgency policies. After the failure of the peace process under the Pastrana administration (1998–2002), reforms were ‘limited’ (Reference GrabendorffGrabendorff 2009) in the sense that their aim was to increase the capacities and the territorial control of the state, but not engender a fundamental transformation of the society. Therefore, within South America, Colombia’s armed forces are second only to Brazil’s in terms of member numbers. The main mandate of Colombia’s armed forces was to fight the ‘internal enemy’ – that is, the armed guerrilla groups FARC-EP and ELN, while cooperating at least implicitly with the paramilitary groups. Nevertheless, the peace agreement of 2016 does not include any provisions on institutional reforms in the state security sector such as the separation of internal and external mandates between the military and the police or the establishment of a civilian police force. The peace agreement mentions only the military and the police in relation to some monitoring functions of the FARC-EP’s DDR process.

Recruiting strategies for the police in Afghanistan after 2002 produced a similar ethnic imbalance as manifested in the ANA, although there was no reform from scratch but a strategy of transforming the existing institution. A National Police Academy was established that trained officers but not ordinary ranks. The police are the most visible state institution for citizens. However, in rural areas of Afghanistan, traditional providers of security serve as functional equivalents in the absence of the state. The somewhat transformed national police are present mostly in the larger urban areas. Reference SedraSedra (2017, 185) cited a survey from 2014 where the police and the judiciary were considered the most corrupt institutions in the country. Involvement in drug trafficking seems to be a major contributing factor to that attitude.

At the same time, gender was a major element of police reform supported extensively by the European Union through the EUPOL Afghanistan mission. The more active participation of women in the security sector was a priority at the outset of the international mission since there was a lack of gender representation across the board (Reference Ansorg and HaastrupAnsorg and Haastrup 2018, 1136). Thus, gender was inscribed into the design and conceptualization of the mission. While EUPOL achieved some gains, such as by helping the Afghan government establish Family Response Units within the ANP, the inclusion of women in the police force progressed very slowly. An audit conducted 7 years after the mission found that women comprised only 2 per cent of the new police force (European Court of Auditors 2015). Since the withdrawal of the international forces and the renewed takeover by the Taliban regime, the achievements of the mission with regard to gender mainstreaming have been reversed. Despite heavy international engagement over two decades, prevalent societal norms were reinforced almost overnight.

Colombia’s police are part of the armed forces and have been involved in the counterinsurgency and counternarcotics strategies. Nevertheless, certain reforms have been initiated, such as the increasing inclusion of women into the police at all levels. In 2021, over 14 per cent of the police force were female (Policía Nacional de Colombia, Bogotá DC, Colombia et al. 2021). However, a series of anti-government protests in 2019 and 2021 provided evidence for the highly repressive police approaches and a lack of constructive police–community relations (Reference Nilsson and JonssonNilsson and Jonsson 2022). These events increased advocacy in civil society organizations for a profound reform of the police (Grupo de Trabajo FIP – FESCOL 2021). Separating the police from the military and making it a civilian force providing public security is one of the main demands of civil society and a central reform project of the progressive government elected in 2022.

In both Colombia and Afghanistan, the dominance of counterinsurgency in security policies has proved highly problematic, particularly when it comes to everyday relations among the military, the police, and the respective society. This is most visible in the militarization of public security (Figure 11) as well as the lack of accountability and gross violations of human rights by state security institutions. The persistence of illegal, criminal economies, most notably (but not exclusively) in the production and trade in opium (Afghanistan) and coca (Colombia), has also contributed to violence and corruption in both countries. At the same time, international and national strategies have promoted militarization and repression.

Figure 11

Increase of military manpower in Colombia and Afghanistan (2002–2019)

Source: Author’s elaboration based on World Bank based on IISS Military Balance https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/MS.MIL.TOTL.P1?end=2019&name_desc=false&start=2000

In Afghanistan, the rising Taliban insurgency and the increased role of the USA in training and financing led to the police becoming increasingly militarized, which often went hand in hand with gross human rights violations. The documentation of human rights violations in Afghanistan usually focuses on the Taliban’s current and past attacks on women and those opposing either their own views or those of local militias (Human Rights Watch 2005; Reference Gossman and KlineGossman and Kline 2015). However, the new and transformed Afghan military and police also committed human rights violations and are highly corrupt, as shown by the admittedly scant research (Reference SinghSingh 2014) and reports by international NGOs such as Human Rights Watch (Reference Reid and MuhammedallyReid and Muhammedally 2011).

Over the last two decades in Colombia, civil society organizations at the national and local level have denounced a variety of gross human rights violations committed by the armed forces and by the police. The most prominent case are the extrajudicial killings, the so-called false positives (falsos positivos). Between 2002 and 2008, the military assassinated over 6,000 young men from poor marginalized neighbourhoods, put them in clothes resembling guerrilla uniforms, and claimed that they were guerrilleros who had died in combat. The Commission for the Clarification of Truth, Coexistence and Non-Repetition (Truth Commission) tells a very different story in its report (Comisión para el Esclarecimiento de la Verdad, la Convivencia y la No Repetición 2022, 757): ‘The “false positives” were committed on the basis of decisions embodied in regulations issued through institutional channels in the form of laws, decrees, ministerial directives, circulars and directives issued by the security forces that led to extrajudicial executions.’ Other patterns of gross human rights violations include forced displacement, mostly by paramilitary groups but often in at least implicit cooperation with the military and regional elites (Reference TellezTellez 2021). After the signature of the peace agreement, there was increased violence against demobilized former combatants, human rights defenders, and social leaders.

Military and police reform in both countries did not take into account a holistic, societal perspective that focuses on communities and the link between security and the wider civil society as outlined in our theoretical framework. Instead, reforms were targeted at counterinsurgency measures in the light of ongoing violence. In Colombia, the police continue to be part of the armed forces and contribute to the militarization of society. Gross human rights violations, especially against innocent men who were framed as guerrillas, were part of the harsh counterinsurgency measures in the country. Likewise, in Afghanistan, society was characterized by ongoing violence and the attempt to counter this with strict military measures. While the police in Afghanistan are separate from the military, both security institutions were highly militarized and served the fight against insurgency rather than the creation of safety and order in local communities.

Functional equivalents to the state provision of security play a major role in both countries. In Afghanistan, local militias maintain control and order in remote rural areas and these have even been supported or created by the US forces due to the deteriorating security situation (Reference Felbab-BrownFelbab-Brown 2016). In Colombia, these equivalents are non-state armed groups of various backgrounds such as the remaining guerrilla ELN or FARC-EP dissidents, as well as different groups active in the criminal economy. Indigenous or Afro-Colombian guards at the community level are the only ones with a legal recognition. In rural areas where indigenous or Afro-Colombian communities dominate, they can serve as a form of non-violent self-protection (Reference Chaves, Aarts and van BommelChaves, Aarts, and van Bommel 2020). They complement, rather than replace, state security forces. Along the lines of our theoretical framework, we thus conclude that they are an important security actor in the country. In both countries, the governments largely failed to develop a systematic policy regarding these non-state armed forces. The current initiative of the Colombian government (Total Peace) to demobilize all non-state armed groups, either via negotiations or via the submission under the law, is an interesting innovation whose results remain to be seen.

5.3 Transitional Justice and Judicial Reform: Centrepiece or Afterthought?

The role of transitional justice and judicial reform in terms of timing, content, and depth are the main differences shaping SSR in Colombia and Afghanistan. The latter resembles the experience of many post-war societies where judicial reform comes last, if at all (see Section 4). Civil society initiatives to cope with past human rights violations and hold perpetrators accountable were quite successful in Colombia, but in Afghanistan have been side-lined by political elites and international actors.

Three interrelated problems stand out with regard to transitional justice and judicial reform in Afghanistan: First, international actors prioritized ‘hard security’ over justice, disregarded existing institutions, and attempted to rationalize the legal framework shaped by the overlapping of state, sharia, and customary law in the 2004 constitution. This limited service provision in the judicial sector and generated conflicts around the legal framework – such as the criminal process code – not just between international and local actors but even among the international donors (Reference SedraSedra 2017, 190–204). Second, the Bonn Agreement delegated transitional justice to the newly created Human Rights Commission (Reference RubinRubin 2003). However, this body lacked international support and therefore leverage. For example, the former commissioner on transitional justice of the Afghanistan Independent Human Rights Commission, Reference NaderyAhmed Nader Nadery (2007), criticized the international community for its lack of interest in victims’ rights, arguing that the promotion of a strategy of ‘peace first, justice later’ led to more violence and impunity. Third, state institutions in the justice sector are highly corrupt (Reference SinghSingh 2014). Reference SedraSedra (2017, 202) cited an UNODC report from 2010 in which it is estimated that 23 per cent of Afghanistan’s GDP was spent on bribes, mostly to the police and the justice sector.

In Colombia, by contrast, a new constitution (1991) and strengthening the independence of the judiciary in securing human rights were present at the outset of a series of peace negotiations with various non-state armed groups. The new legal frame and its emphasis on the protection of human rights empowered civil society and non-violent advocacy for change and reforms (Reference Nielson and Soberg ShugartNielson and Shugart 1999; Reference UprimnyUprimny 2003; Reference Kurtenbach, Ansorg and KurtenbachKurtenbach 2017b). The peace agreement of 2016 with the FARC-EP increased the scope of action, as political opposition could no longer be framed in terms of the internal war. Transitional justice mechanisms and the prioritization of victims’ rights started even before the peace agreements. In 2011, the Colombian Congress approved Law 1448 (the Victims Law, establishing, amongst other things, the National Victims Register). While there are high levels of violence against human rights defenders, social leaders, and demobilized combatants (INDEPAZ 2020), Law 1448 has proven highly important for the involvement of society in post-war reforms. In 2022, the Colombian Truth Commission presented a comprehensive report and formulated important recommendations such as the profound reform of the armed forces and the police (Comisión para el Esclarecimiento de la Verdad, la Convivencia y la No Repetición 2022). Implementation will be key.

Our theoretical framework emphasizes that broader policies of human rights promotion and judicial reforms beyond transitional justice mechanisms are key for state–society relations. Our quantitative analysis and our case studies both provide evidence for this claim. Colombia is a rare case of a profound constitutional and judicial reform paving the way for non-violent advocacy of human rights in a variety of contexts (victims, minorities, women, etc.) as a basis for highly contested change.

6.1 Security Sector Reform in State–Society Relations

The joint findings of our quantitative and qualitative analysis provide evidence on the importance of a state–society perspective on SSR related to four elements.

First, the inclusion of all armed actors in processes of DDR is important for the establishment of peace in post-war societies. Our quantitative analysis shows the importance of including paramilitary actors, including militias and mercenaries, for the survival of peace. Accords such as those in Sierra Leone, Macedonia, and Guatemala included provisions on the regulation of paramilitary groups, and the post-war process also saw the implementation of such provisions. In Sierra Leone, for example, the thorough input of local actors in SSR through a comprehensive consultation process put the implementation of the reforms in line with societal needs and benefited the establishment of long-term peace (Reference OnomaOnoma 2014). Findings from our qualitative case studies on Colombia and Afghanistan point in the same direction. The remobilization of combatants from only partially demobilized groups and their inclusion into either newly emerging or existing armed groups has been a major problem in both countries. This not only relates to a lack of provisions in peace agreements and their implementation, but also points toward a broader problem: the structural conditions that enable recruitment and mobilization of armed actors have not been targeted or changed in either Afghanistan or Colombia, or most other post-war contexts. War economies in the drug sector, as well as petty and organized crime, provide important sources of livelihood in the rural areas and thus help armed actors to survive and reorganize. The case of the Taliban is no exception here – examples of illicit resource extraction in the DR Congo or organized crime in the Sahel show that it is a common feature in (former) conflict regions. At the same time, the persistence of armed actors with or without political agendas puts pressure on the security institutions under reform. The reliance on well-established repressive and authoritarian answers undermines the pillars of reform, such as commitment to human rights and civilian control.

Second, our analysis shows that previous experience with democracy has a positive effect on the survival of peace. Our case studies provide evidence that the effect might not be related to democracy per se, but rather the strength of civil society to monitor reform processes, hold those in power accountable, and advocate for broader notions of peace, victim’s rights, and human rights more generally. Our quantitative study shows that the accessibility and transparency of judicial complaints mechanisms makes a difference for the pathway to peace. Our qualitative comparison highlights the relevance of reforms towards an independent judiciary and the formal guarantee of human rights. As in peace agreements, the existence of a legal frame codifying human rights and opening civic space for civil societies is a pre-condition, and implementation is key. The Colombian experience provides important evidence for this. Other prominent cases evincing strong civil society engagement include Sierra Leone and Papua New Guinea.

Third, state institutions matter but not necessarily along the assumptions of mainstream policies. Our results show that the contribution of SSR to long-lasting peace does not rely on the strength of the military and the police. A focus on efficiency and military strength seems more related to the militarization of public security policies and the violation of human rights by the security institutions. Afghanistan and Colombia demonstrate how this undermines reform processes and de-legitimizes new (or existing) security institutions. Instead, successful peacebuilding seems to be related to the existence of an independent judiciary that is able to provide some justice to victims as well as protection and empowerment vis-à-vis non-armed actors, women, and marginalized ethnic groups. This is what human security is about: protection of public spaces to discuss and advocate for often conflicting approaches to politics, economy, and society without the use of violence. Likewise, these reform processes do not happen in the initial years after the war. The reform of the judiciary, including the involvement of underrepresented groups, and greater accountability of the judiciary, takes place only once other institutional areas, such as DDR, or reform of the police, have been established. However, this kind of sequencing delays the strengthening of state–society relations and, ultimately, the establishment of long-standing peace.

Last but not least, peace and security do not rely on the state and its institutions alone; they need to be complemented by other institutions serving as functional equivalents of state institutions. In post-war societies, international actors such as the International Court of Justice or peacekeeping missions play a major and often positive role, at least in the immediate aftermath of war termination. The unresolved problem is what happens when these missions leave. There are few examples of a successful and smooth transition in the medium and long term. The ‘successful’ cases of liberal peacebuilding in the early 1990s provide evidence of success in terms of minimalist peace (the non-recurrence of war) but also betray the existence of different patterns of violence or the emergence of new armed actors due to the lack of structural transformation. El Salvador is a paradigmatic case for the former development and Mozambique for the latter. Despite the debate on hybrid security, local institutions such as traditional authorities are still either disregarded or romanticized. These institutions can contribute to peace as long as they respect fundamental human rights and there is a clear framework around how and under what circumstances they complement state responsibilities. Again, Colombia is an interesting case, as the constitution of 1991 defined the complementary role of customary law early on.

6.2 Implications for Security Sector Reform Policies

Our quantitative and qualitative research, as well as other cases around the world (Reference Ansorg and KurtenbachAnsorg and Kurtenbach 2022), show that one-size-fits-all approaches to SSR do not work in post-war countries. While security is considered a requirement for long-term peace, SSR is a highly context-specific and political endeavour that requires tailored solutions to complex post-war conditions. This should include specific attention to the inclusion of former rebel groups and other non-state armed actors; a holistic approach and linking of police to judiciary reform to provide public security for all citizens; recognition of the importance of non-state functional equivalents in the provision of security and justice under the condition of their adherence to basic human rights; and an increase in the representation of underrepresented groups such as particular ethnic groups or women. Afghanistan is the most obvious case providing evidence of that; others are the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Bosnia. Quantitative data show that most SSR efforts after the end of war are partial at best. While DDR programmes are state of the art and police reform plays a role, judicial reform and addressing issues with paramilitary and other non-state armed groups seem particularly hard to implement, even if assented to in peace agreements. This is often due to post-war power dynamics within the country, as the evidence from specific case studies shows. Thus, there is not one ‘perfect’ or even ‘good’ solution to the question of how to conduct SSR in a post-war country. Rather, it is about finding compromises for former warring parties and the broader population navigating the highly contested endeavour of peacebuilding in the shadow of war and mistrust.

Our analysis shows that despite all the difficulties in implementing SSR in the aftermath of war, it remains a pivotal aspect of the overall peacebuilding process: the commitment to reform enables warring actors to come to the negotiation table, agree to a settlement, and lay down their arms. This is an important first step in the peace process. While implementation of provisions is often deficient, our analysis, together with illustrative cases from other parts of the world, shows that it is still better than doing nothing altogether. The questions then are under what conditions it is more likely that the reform plans can be implemented, and how can the whole society be included in the process. A focus on human rights is key and despite often being contested, mostly by non-reform-oriented elites, should not be disregarded as a Western imposition. Individual and collective human rights are the main basis for citizens empowerment and participation in their communities and in broader society. Elites at the local and national levels see reforms as a zero-sum game and try to prevent a shift in power relations. The selective violence against human rights defenders, social representatives of community organizations, environmental activists, and independent journalists or judges across the globe is a common strategy of intimidation. The UN Special Rapporteur on Human Rights defenders observed 1,323 killings in 64 countries between 2015 and 2019 (Global Witness 2019; UN Special Rapporteur on Human Rights defenders, Mary Lawlor 2021). However, most cases remain without documentation and state institutions are either unable or unwilling to provide the necessary protection.

If the outcome of SSR is ‘measured’ in relation to a successful violence reduction, then state–society relations and the link between formal institutions and informal practices need to stand at the core of these activities. This has three practical consequences. First, the starting point of SSR needs to be political debate and broad coalitions involving all relevant societal stakeholders. The experiences of the United Nations War-Torn Societies Project in Guatemala show how important this is (Reference Torres-Rivas and de León BTorres-Rivas and Arévalo de León 1999). The baseline document from 1997 (the first year after the war ended) identified the administration of justice and citizen security as one of the main issues that needed to be tackled in order to build peace. The proposal advocated for increased access to justice in the rural areas and a transformation of public security institutions such as the police, the office of the attorney general and the judiciary. These proposals were complementary to the mainstream SSR approach in the peace agreement that envisioned – similar to the Salvadorean experience – a new civilian police, the reduction of the armed forces, and a new mandate with the sole responsibility of protecting the borders, alongside DDR of the small remaining guerrilla groups and strengthening the judiciary (de Reference León and SagoneLeón and Sagone 2005). Supported by international donors, civil society organizations formed an advisory board for security policies (Consejo Asesor de Seguridad). The influence of the advisory board depended both on the willingness of the government to take this advice seriously and on pressure from international donors. Despite the significant power asymmetry, the cooperation between these local and international actors led to the establishment of the International Commission against Impunity in Guatemala (CICIG in its Spanish acronym) in 2008. During the following years, significant reforms were made to the public attorney’s office and the judiciary. However, when these reforms led to formal accusations against the still-powerful economic, military, and political elites, CICIG’s mandate was not prolonged, its personnel had to leave the country, and reform-oriented local actors went into exile (Reference GutiérrezGutiérrez 2016; Open Society Justice Initiative 2016). This example shows that participatory approaches are imported but need to be implemented and not subdued to existing power relations.

Second, SSR is a complex and long-term process that must be comprehensive, including the judiciary as a main link between the state and society. The experience of El Salvador – a rather successful peace process in terms of war termination – provides evidence about how an incomplete reform process and a lack of accountability for past human rights violations does not reduce violence but shifts it from the political arena to society. The process of demobilization went rather smoothly; other reforms in the Chapultepec Peace Accord of 1992 were designed to fundamentally change the integrated repressive system of the past via an evaluation of past behaviour and the dismissal of those individuals responsible for human rights violations (vetting), changes in mandate, and judicial independence. The reduction of the military’s manpower and the reform of its mandate, as well as the establishment of the new civilian police force, took longer and were severely undermined by the right-wing government’s ‘moral panic’ regarding public security and the inclusion of the military in public security operations (Reference Kurtenbach, Reder, Kuehn and LevyKurtenbach and Reder 2021). Judicial reform was not a priority for the Nationalist Republican Alliance government and was made difficult by the second amnesty law, which rendered useless the recommendations of the Truth Commission, such as the vetting of high court justices. However, local and international human rights organizations advocated for change and against impunity for past atrocities, keeping the topic on the political agenda. Financial and technical support for judicial reforms came from the US Agency for International Development (USAID), with its strong focus on training, intended to increase the capacities of judges, along with professionalizing judges and other judicial personnel and modernizing the criminal and civil codes. Gradual change in the judiciary started in 2009 with the election of five independent judges, four of whom became members of the Constitutional Court. In 2016 these efforts seemed to bear fruit when the Constitutional Court declared the amnesty law of 1993 unconstitutional, bringing back some paradigmatic cases such as the massacre of El Mozote to the courts (Reference Cerqueira and ArteagaCerqueira and Arteaga 2016; Reference KurtenbachKurtenbach 2019).

Finally, post-war reforms do not happen in a political vacuum – there is no new beginning from scratch. Despite high hopes that the end of war will bring fundamental change and a better future, empirical evidence shows that a war’s end is ‘unlikely to see a clean break from violence to consent, from theft to production, from repression to democracy, or from impunity to accountability’ (Reference KeenKeen 2000, 10). Even when fundamental reforms are envisioned in peace agreements, they will interact with existing structures and behaviours shaped by history, culture, and the experience of war and widespread violence (Reference WoodWood 2008; Reference ArjonaArjona 2014; Reference Ansorg, Kurtenbach, Ansorg and KurtenbachAnsorg and Kurtenbach 2017). South Sudan is a case in point here. Even though the country’s independence provided a clean break from previous institutional and power structures as part of Sudan, it continued to suffer from similar internal struggles and fractionalization, which eventually led to a renewed war. Hence, the end of war is not necessarily a critical juncture where profound change happens in a short period of time (Reference CapocciaCapoccia 2016) but can also favour path-dependent developments or fortify existing structures. Due to their direct and indirect participation in the war, institutions within the security and justice system (police, military, judiciary) are extremely important for reform processes and need to be analysed in their interaction and not separately.

Experiences on the ground show that international donors can support SSR at the intersection between state and society but should not be in the driver’s seat. Top-down and state-centred approaches do not work either in the short term or in the long term. However, staying out of conflict-ridden and violent contexts is not an option from the perspective of international human rights norms, humanitarian law, and the responsibility to protect – and is often specifically requested by actors on the ground. However, international donors should be more resolute in their dedication to the normative frame of SSR – human rights, inclusion, accountability – as well as humbler, by supporting, monitoring, and accompanying local reform efforts. Knowledge exchange between international, national, and local-oriented actors can be a first step to assess the specific security and justice sector and identify institutions that work as well as those in need of reform. The viability and scope of reforms will depend on historic legacies as well as power relations between actors satisfied with the status quo and those who are reform-oriented.

6.3 Avenues for Future Research

Future research needs to include conceptual and more practical challenges. First, two aspects are of conceptual importance: greater contextualization, and what we consider ‘decolonization of SSR’.

Contextualization goes beyond the prescription of norms and guidelines of the security sector. While norms are important, their inclusion needs to be based on a careful analysis and acknowledgement of local power relations and historical trajectories. On this basis, pathways to reform, obstacles, and opportunities need to be identified. Related to that is the regional environment of many post-war countries. As the examples of Sierra Leone and Iraq show, regional interactions influencing the reform process can be either conducive or non-conducive to the reform efforts (Reference Almohamad, Kirchschlager and KurtenbachAlmohamad, Kirchschlager, and Kurtenbach 2020). Therefore, context needs to be acknowledged at the local, national, regional, and international levels, and different patterns of transition (political pacts versus military victories) and the degree of international interventions fundamentally shape the outcome of SSR.

Finally, we need to acknowledge that knowledge and practice continue to be informed by epistemological assumptions that are deeply rooted in colonial history and colonial rule (Reference AnsorgAnsorg 2019). Policies in the Global North on development and international cooperation, particularly when it comes to post-war countries, still evince an idea of racial and civilizational hierarchy. These epistemological assumptions are inherently problematic and they transfer a sense of the world that ignores many aspects that are essential to the history, politics, and societies in the Global South. Thus, a further step in the evolution of post-war SSR can be an approach to decolonize reform aspects: to radically question the origins of knowledge and practice of SSR and to centre efforts more in the communities most affected by reform. This might include a decolonization of knowledge on SSR and a departure from the idea of ‘making their security sector look more like our security sector’ (Reference JacksonJackson 2018, 5). It could also include a change in practice, and a re-centring of reform towards the Global South, including the way that international donors fund programmes. This may require a fundamental reconsideration of foreign policy and a critical discussion of any intended and unintended effects of intervention. However, this does not imply that peacebuilding is not normatively embedded. External support for peace and for an inclusive and accountable security sector needs to emphasize violence reduction, individual, and collective human rights, as well as constructive conflict transformation. These are not Western values but core functions of every political and societal order. Otherwise, existing power relations and brute force will determine the fate in post-war societies.

On a more practical side, future research needs to compile data on relevant topics of SSR more systematically. More and better data is required on violence beyond armed conflict and the state. While there are some interesting projects under way at the Uppsala Data program and ACLED, these cover only parts of the Global South and started only recently – 1989 at the earliest. We also need better data on human rights, women, and ethnic participation in SSR beyond mere quantitative representation in the police, the military, or the judiciary. This data can help us to analyse specific challenges of SSR in a more fine-grained manner across time and space.