the iatrogenic reflex and elief that repression can … · 2012. 8. 20. · the iatrogenic reflex...

THE IATROGENIC REFLEX AND BELIEF

THAT REPRESSION CAN COERCIVELY

SUPPRESS ASYMMETRIC COERCIVE

VIOLENCE: DOES VERY ROBUST ACTION

BY THE GOVERNMENT DECREASE

FUNCTIONAL SUPPORT FOR INSURGENTS?

Charles Anthony Howard Knight Master of Justice (Strategic Intelligence),

Queensland University of Technology

Submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

School of Justice

Faculty of Law

Queensland University of Technology

2012

Page i

Keywords

Cambodia, Coercion, Counterinsurgency, Insurgency, K5 Plan, Kampuchea, Khmer Rouge,

Kurdish, Political Violence, Popular support, PKK, Reactance, Rebellion, Repression,

Terrorism, Turkey, Vietnam.

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Abstract

Non-state insurgent actors are too weak to compel powerful adversaries to their will, so they use

violence to coerce. A principal objective is to grow and sustain violent resistance to the point that

it either militarily challenges the state, or more commonly, generates unacceptable political costs.

To survive, insurgents must shift popular support away from the state and to grow they must

secure it. State actor policies and actions perceived as illegitimate and oppressive by the

insurgent constituency can generate these shifts. A promising insurgent strategy is to attack

states in ways that lead angry publics and leaders to discount the historically established risks and

take flawed but popular decisions to use repressive measures. Such decisions may be enabled by

a visceral belief in the power of coercion and selective use of examples of where robust measures

have indeed suppressed resistance. To avoid such counterproductive behaviours the cases of

apparent ‘successful repression’ must be understood.

This thesis tests whether robust state action is correlated with reduced support for insurgents,

analyses the causal mechanisms of such shifts and examines whether such reduction is because

of compulsion or coercion? The approach is founded on prior research by the RAND

Corporation which analysed the 30 insurgencies most recently resolved worldwide to determine

factors of counterinsurgent success. This new study first re-analyses their data at a finer

resolution with new queries that investigate the relationship between repression and insurgent

active support. Having determined that, in general, repression does not correlate with decreased

insurgent support, this study then analyses two cases in which the data suggests repression seems

likely to be reducing insurgent support: the PKK in Turkey and the insurgency against the

Vietnamese-sponsored regime after their ousting of the Khmer Rouge. It applies ‘structured-

focused’ case analysis with questions partly built from the insurgency model of Leites and Wolf,

who are associated with the advocacy of US robust means in Vietnam. This is thus a test of

‘most difficult’ cases using a ‘least likely’ test model. Nevertheless, the findings refute the

deterrence argument of ‘iron fist’ advocates. Robust approaches may physically prevent

effective support of insurgents but they do not coercively deter people from being willing to

actively support the insurgency.

Front Matter Page iii

Table of Contents

Keywords ............................................................................................................................. i Abstract ............................................................................................................................... ii List of Figures ................................................................................................................... vii List of Abbreviations and Unfamiliar Terms ................................................................. ix Statement of Original Authorship ................................................................................... xi Acknowledgments ............................................................................................................ xii

Prologue ................................................................................................................... xiii

1 Chapter 1: Introduction ........................................................................................ 1 1.1 General ...................................................................................................................... 1

1.1.1 Chapter Structure ................................................................................................. 2 1.1.2 Motivation for the Study ..................................................................................... 2 1.1.3 An Educational Objective ................................................................................... 4

1.2 A Conceptual Framework of Enquiry ................................................................... 4 1.2.1 Developing an Enquiry ........................................................................................ 4 1.2.2 Developing a Method .......................................................................................... 6 1.2.3 The Pilot Studies ................................................................................................. 7 1.2.4 The Research Question Refined .......................................................................... 9 1.2.5 The Method Applied ......................................................................................... 10

1.3 Significance ............................................................................................................. 10 1.4 Key Constructs and Definitions ............................................................................ 11 1.5 Summary and Thesis Structure ............................................................................ 16

2 Chapter 2: Literature review .............................................................................. 17 2.1 Section A: the Impact of Support and Coercion ................................................. 17

2.1.1 Popular Support and Cost Infliction .................................................................. 18 2.1.2 Robust Action and the Puzzle of Asymmetric Conflict .................................... 23 2.1.3 Efficacy and Outcomes of Coercive Violence .................................................. 26

2.2 Section B: Inducing Robust State Action ............................................................ 29 2.2.1 Adversary Understanding of Reactive Violence ............................................... 29 2.2.2 Developing Theories of Provocation ................................................................. 30 2.2.3 Provocation, Reaction and Reverberation ......................................................... 31 2.2.4 Summary ........................................................................................................... 33

2.3 Section C: State Responses to ACV ...................................................................... 33 2.3.1 State Response to ACV: Theory, Views and Prescriptions ............................... 33 2.3.2 Understandings of State Responses ................................................................... 36 2.3.3 Analysis of State Response ............................................................................... 37 2.3.4 Section Summary .............................................................................................. 40

2.4 Section D: Aggressive Responses and Support Shifts ......................................... 41 2.4.1 The Political Psychology of Robust Reaction ................................................... 41 2.4.2 Theoretical Explanations for Constituency Reactions....................................... 48 2.4.3 Successful Repression or Coercion: When does it Shift Support? .................... 51 2.4.4 Summary ........................................................................................................... 55

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2.5 Section E: Rationale And Theoretical Framework ............................................. 56 2.5.1 Rationale ............................................................................................................ 56 2.5.2 Iatrogenic Effect and I-Syndrome ...................................................................... 57 2.5.3 The Applied Construct of ACV ......................................................................... 57 2.5.4 Descriptive Constructs of Legitimacy and Support ........................................... 58 2.5.5 The Construct of Constituency Reactance Shift ................................................ 61 2.5.6 A Construct to Examine Coercive Effectiveness ............................................... 63 2.5.7 Examining Mechanisms with the Systems Model of Insurgency ...................... 65

2.6 Summary ................................................................................................................. 67

3 Chapter 3: The Methods ...................................................................................... 69 3.1 General .................................................................................................................... 69

3.1.1 The VTFS .......................................................................................................... 70 3.2 Re-analysis of RAND Data .................................................................................... 71

3.2.1 Statistical Re-analysis ........................................................................................ 72 3.2.2 Bivariate Analysis .............................................................................................. 72 3.2.3 VTFS Bivariate Analysis Procedure .................................................................. 73 3.2.4 Basic and Aggregated Analysis and Reporting ................................................. 76 3.2.5 Case Selection .................................................................................................... 76

3.3 Case Analysis .......................................................................................................... 78 3.3.1 Case Analysis Procedure ................................................................................... 78 3.3.2 Case Data Sources ............................................................................................. 79 3.3.3 Instrument Development.................................................................................... 81 3.3.4 The Sub-Analyses .............................................................................................. 82

3.4 Ethics, Limitations and Validity ........................................................................... 85 3.5 Summary ................................................................................................................. 87

4 Chapter 4: The Insurgency in Kampuchea, 1978-1992 .................................... 89 4.1 Background ............................................................................................................. 90 4.2 The Insurgency Described ..................................................................................... 95

4.2.1 Phase I: “Initial Invasion and Occupation” (1978–1981) .................................. 95 4.2.2 Phase II: “Insurgency and Insecurity” (1981–1983) ........................................ 105 4.2.3 Phase III: “COIN Push and the K5 Plan” (1984–1985) ................................... 110 4.2.4 Phase IV: “Stalemate” (1986–1989) ................................................................ 116 4.2.5 Phase V: “Post-occupation Collapse of the Puppets” (1989–1992) ................ 120

4.3 Reflective Summary of Conflict .......................................................................... 124

5 Chapter 5: Analysis of the Insurgency in Kampuchea, 1978-1992 ................ 125 5.1 Checking the Validity of VTFS-based Case Selection ....................................... 125 5.2 Comparison of State Robustnes and Insurgent Support .................................. 126

5.2.1 Trends and Shifts in Blue Paramilitary Robustness ......................................... 127 5.2.2 Trends and Shifts in other Blue Policy (Controls) ........................................... 130 5.2.3 Trends and Shifts in Insurgent Support ........................................................... 133 5.2.4 Conclusions of Robustness/Support Comparison ............................................ 137

5.3 Assessing The Strategic Role of Support and its Shift ...................................... 138 5.4 Evaluation by Matrix-Mapping Compliance Behaviour .................................. 141 5.5 Testing Candidate Factors For Influence on Support ...................................... 142 5.6 Examining the Mechanisms of Reducing Insurgent Effectiveness .................. 145

5.6.1 Reducing Insurgent Activity Value ................................................................. 145

Front Matter Page v

5.6.2 Reducing Insurgent Activity Production ......................................................... 147 5.6.3 Mechanisms of Reducing External Support .................................................... 148 5.6.4 Mechanisms of Increasing Active Support for the State ................................. 148 5.6.5 Mechanism of Reducing Internal Support for Insurgents ............................... 149 5.6.6 Summary: Examination of Mechanisms ......................................................... 151

5.7 Chapter Summary ............................................................................................... 152

6 Chapter 6: The Insurgency in Turkey by the PKK, 1984-1999 ..................... 155 6.1 Background .......................................................................................................... 156 6.2 The Insurgency Described ................................................................................... 170

6.2.1 Phase I: “Initial Insurgency” (1984–1986) ...................................................... 171 6.2.2 Phase II: “Repression and Resettlement” (1987–1989) .................................. 176 6.2.3 Phase III: “Insurgency Grows in Popularity” (1990–1993) ............................ 182 6.2.4 Phase IV: “Triumph of the Big Stick” (March 1993–1999) ............................ 190

6.3 Reflective Summary of Conflict .......................................................................... 206

7 Chapter 7: Analysis of the PKK Insurgency in Turkey, 1984-1999 .............. 209 7.1 Checking the Validity of VTFS-based Case Selection ...................................... 209 7.2 Comparison of State Robustness and Insurgent Support ................................ 210

7.2.1 Trends and Shifts in Blue Paramilitary Robustness ........................................ 211 7.2.2 Trends and Shifts in other Blue Policy (Controls) .......................................... 219 7.2.3 Trends and Shifts in other Red Policy (Controls) ........................................... 220 7.2.4 Trends and Shifts in Insurgent Support ........................................................... 221 7.2.5 Conclusions of Robustness/Support Comparison ........................................... 233

7.3 Assessing the Strategic Role of Support and its Shift ....................................... 234 7.4 Evaluation by Matrix-Mapping Compliance Behaviour .................................. 237 7.5 Testing Candidate Factors For Influence on Support ...................................... 238 7.6 Examining the Mechanisms of Reducing Insurgent Effectiveness .................. 240

7.6.1 Reducing Insurgent Activity Value ................................................................. 240 7.6.2 Reducing Insurgent Activity Production ......................................................... 241 7.6.3 Mechanisms of Reducing External Support .................................................... 242 7.6.4 Mechanisms of Increasing Active Support for the State ................................. 242 7.6.5 Mechanism of Reducing Internal Support for Insurgents ............................... 243 7.6.6 Summary: Examination of Mechanisms ......................................................... 247

7.7 Chapter Summary ............................................................................................... 248

8 Chapter 8: Findings and Conclusions .............................................................. 251 8.1.1 The Lutz and Lutz Analysis ............................................................................ 251

8.2 Results and findings from Bivariate Analysis ................................................... 252 8.2.1 Effect of Escalating Repression ...................................................................... 252 8.2.2 Effect of Employing Collective Punishment ................................................... 254 8.2.3 Aggregated Factors.......................................................................................... 255 8.2.4 Summary of Bivariate Findings ...................................................................... 256

8.3 Findings from Cross-Case Comparison of State Robustness and Insurgent Support ........................................................................................................................... 257 8.4 Findings from Cross-Case Assessment of the Strategic Impact of Support and Its Shifts .......................................................................................................................... 259 8.5 Findings From Matrix-Mapping Compliance Behaviour ................................ 261 8.6 Summary Shift Findings ...................................................................................... 261

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8.7 Findings from Cross-Case Analysis of Factors Shifting Support: the Literature’s Predictions ................................................................................................. 262

8.7.1 Cross-case Factors Findings ............................................................................ 262 8.8 Findings from Examining the Mechanisms of Reducing Insurgent Effectiveness 263

8.8.1 Reducing Insurgent Activity Value: Defence and Degradation....................... 263 8.8.2 Reducing Insurgent Activity Production: Disruption and Decapitation .......... 263 8.8.3 Reducing External Support for Insurgents: Isolating and Demotivating ......... 264 8.8.4 Increasing Active Support for the State: Recruitment to Blue ........................ 265 8.8.5 Reducing Internal Support for Insurgents ........................................................ 266 8.8.6 Summary: Examination of Mechanisms .......................................................... 268

8.9 Additional Observations ...................................................................................... 268 8.10 Research Conclusions ........................................................................................ 268 8.11 Implications, Contribution and Extensions ..................................................... 270

8.11.1 Theoretical ..................................................................................................... 270 8.11.2 Methodological .............................................................................................. 271 8.11.3 Study and practice of ACV ............................................................................ 272 8.11.4 Final Thoughts ............................................................................................... 274

Annexe A: Study Materials ................................................................................... 275 Appendix I to Annex A: The Case Analysis Instrument .............................................. 275 Appendix II to Annex A: Statistical Test on VTFS Data ............................................. 280

Bibliography ........................................................................................................... 285

Front Matter Page vii

List of Figures

Figure 1: The Cycle of Response ............................................................................................................. 5

Figure 2: Leites and Wolf's System Model of an Insurgency ................................................................. 20

Figure 3: McCormick's Model of Terrorist Influence ............................................................................. 21

Figure 4: McCormick’s Model of Support Influence ............................................................................. 21

Figure 5: Petersen’s Model of Levels of Resistance ............................................................................. 22

Figure 6: Moore’s Model of Support Shifts ........................................................................................... 22

Figure 7: Coyle’s Influence Diagram Model of Mechanisms of Insurgent Victory ................................ 23

Figure 8: Judgement Biases Relevant to ACV ........................................................................................ 45

Figure 9: A Weberian Spectrum of Popular Support ............................................................................ 59

Figure 10: Matrix of Support Behaviour Descriptors ............................................................................ 60

Figure 11: The Construct of Reactance Constituency Shift ................................................................... 62

Figure 12: The relationship between capacity for surveillance and enforcement and compliance ..... 64

Figure 13: Mechanisms of Influencing an Insurgency System .............................................................. 66

Figure 14: Explanation of 2 x 2 Bivariate Display .................................................................................. 73

Figure 15: Creating Master Data Sheet ................................................................................................. 74

Figure 16: Creating a Factor‐Interaction Sub‐Table .............................................................................. 75

Figure 17: An example: The 2 x 2 Factor Association Table showing the Relationship between

Repression and Support Reduction .............................................................................................. 76

Figure 18: Case Selection using VTFS Dataset ...................................................................................... 77

Figure 19: Main Headings of the Case Instrument ............................................................................... 82

Figure 20: Indicative Example of Plot of Robust Activity ...................................................................... 83

Figure 21: Coercion Matrix and Indicative example of Diagram Showing Shifts in Robustness .......... 84

Figure 22: Kampuchea: Location and Key Geographic Features – ("Map of Cambodia," 2011) .......... 90

Figure 23: Estimated Insurgent Numbers in Thousands ..................................................................... 135

Figure 24: Compliance Matrix and Mapping of Shifts during the Kampuchean Insurgency .............. 141

Figure 25: Turkey: Location, Cities and Neighbours ‐ Source CIA Factbook 2010 .............................. 156

Figure 26: Distribution of Kurdish Peoples ‐ source 'Occidental Soapbox' ........................................ 157

Figure 27: Map of 'Kurdish' Places and Kurdish Insurgent Group Areas ............................................ 171

Figure 28: Balta's Plot of HRFT Figures for 'Repressive' Killings ......................................................... 214

Figure 29: Authors Estimate of Absolute Minimum Numbers of PKK Fighters during the Insurgency226

Figure 30: Casualties inflicted by the PKK Attack by Type ‐ Source Data GTD, START Maryland ....... 228

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Figure 31: Aggregated Police and Army casualties 1984‐2003 Source Ergil (2007 p 350) ................ 229

Figure 32: Number of Settlement Evacuations in Siirt Province by Year, Based on HRFT 2000 p 140231

Figure 33: Korucu Numbers 1984‐1998 – Based on Koivunen 2002 p 158 ........................................ 231

Figure 34: Evacuation of Villages in the Southeast ‐ IHD Figures (Jongerden 2003 p. 82) ................. 232

Figure 35: Locus of Compliance Behaviour and Significant Shifts during the Turkish Insurgency ..... 237

Figure 36: 2x2 Factor Association Tables for Escalating Repression .................................................. 253

Figure 37: 2x2 Factor Association Tables for Collective Punishment ................................................. 254

Figure 38: Factor Association Table for 'Strong' Aggregated Factors ................................................ 255

Figure 39: Factor Association Tables for 'Some versus None' Aggregated Factors ............................ 255

Figure 40: Factor Association Table for 72‐phase 'Both versus None' Aggregated Factors ............... 256

Figure 41: Factor Association Table for 54‐phase 'Both versus None' Aggregated Factors ............... 256

Front Matter Page ix

List of Abbreviations and Unfamiliar Terms

ANAP Motherland Party (in Turkey) ANS Armee Nationale Sihanoukiste AQAM Al Qaeda and Associated Movements ARGK The PKK Military Organisation ASEAN Association of South East Asian Nations BTK Beatings Torture and Killings CAC Conventional Army Concept CDGK Coalition Government of Democratic Kampuchea CHP Republican Peoples Party: Unionist, later internationalist (in Turkey) COIN Counterinsurgency COW Correlates of War DEP Democracy Party: Pro-Kurdish (in Turkey) DEV-GENC Turkish Federation of Revolutionary Youth DK Democratic Kampuchea (Khmer Rouge title for Cambodia) DLP Democratic Left Party: Nationalist (in Turkey) DP Democrat Party: de-secularising (in Turkey) Dp Democratic Party: de-secularising (in Turkey) DYP True Path Party: Radical pro-security establishment (in Turkey) Ergkenon Alleged Turkish Covert 'Deep State' Organisation ERNK PKK Political/Militia Organisation FUNCINPEC United National Front for an Independent, Neutral, Peaceful, & Cooperative Cambodia

GAP Greater Anatolia (Dam) Project GWOT Global War On Terror HADEP Peoples Democracy Party: Pro-Kurdish (in Turkey) HEP Peoples Labour Party: Pro-Kurdish (in Turkey) Hezbollah Party of God (in Turkey not Lebanon) HRFT Human Rights Federation of Turkey HRK Kurdistan Liberation Unit (initial PKK military group) IHD Turkish Human Rights Association IKF Iraqi Kurdistan Front Jandarma Turkish Gendarmerie JİTEM Jandarma Intelligence Organisation JÖAK Jandarma Commandos JÖH Jandarma Special Operations (Command) JP Justice Party: de-secularising (in Turkey) KDP Democratic Party of Kurdistan of Iraq KDPI Democratic Party of Iranian Kurdistan KNUFNS Kampuchean National United Front for National Salvation Kontrgerilla Clandestine pro-state organisation Korucu Turkish Village Guard Militia KPE Kurdish Parliament in Exile

Page x Does Repression Coerce? © 2012 CAHK

KPNLF Khmer People’s Liberation Front KPRAF Kampuchean People’s Revolutionary Armed Forces KR Khmer Rouge LOE Line of Effort MEK Mojahedin-e-Khalq: Anti-Iranian Regime MGK National Security Council MHP Nationalist Action Party: Right-wing, Pan-Turanic (in Turkey) MOULINKA Mouvement de Liberation National du Kampuchea MSP National Salvation Party: Islamic (in Turkey) OHAL Emergency Rule Region ÖHT National Police Special Purpose Unit ÖJKB Jandarma ‘Special Forces’ (Later Unit) Özel Tim (ler) Special Jandarma Forces (Original Unit) PAK Kurdistan Liberation Army PAVN Peoples Army of Vietnam PKK Kurdish Workers Party PRK Peoples Republic of Kampuchea PUK Patriotic Union of Kurdistan QCA Qualitative Comparative Analysis RAND US Research Organisation Refah Welfare Party: Islamic (in Turkey) SHP Social Democratic (People’s) Party: Pro-Kurdish (in Turkey) SIT Social Identity Theory TAF Turkish Air Force Takfiri Extremist Muslim Combatant - (who disobeys the Islamic injunction against

compulsion in religion) TKDD Turkish Kurdish Democratic party UNHCR United Nations High Commission for Refugees UPK Unidentified Political Killings VTFS Victory has a Thousand Fathers Study (RAND) WW1 World War One WW2 World War Two

Front Matter Page xi

Statement of Original Authorship

The work contained in this thesis has not been previously submitted to meet requirements for an

award at this or any other higher education institution. To the best of my knowledge and belief,

the thesis contains no material previously published or written by another person except where

due reference is made.

Signature: _________________________

Date: _________________________

Page xii Does Repression Coerce? © 2012 CAHK

Acknowledgments

This thesis is the product of a wide ranging exploration of an ill-defined phenomenon. My first

thanks are to those who in turn supervised and guided my journey: Rod Broadhurst, Nic

Chantler, Geoff Dean, Mark Lauchs and Peter Bell; as well as Professor Carlyle Thayer who

served on my review panel. As a latecomer to academia, and with a topic ranging far beyond my

faculty and discipline, I sought perspectives from many specialists. They gave generously of

their time to encourage, suggest new directions or alert me to hazardous ones. All deserve

individual thanks but an examined document is not the proper place. I must however

acknowledge the professional assistance of Christina Koch in proofing and editing my

manuscript. The financial challenges for a ‘mature’ student outside the workforce for several

years are significant and I am grateful for the supplementary support of a Queensland

Government ‘Smartstate’ scholarship. Finally, I could never have completed this project without

the many forms of wholehearted practical and moral support given by my wife, Kym.

Front Matter Page xiii

Prologue

By early 2004, popular euphoria in Iraq at the ousting of Saddam’s regime had been

swamped by rising discontent at the US-led occupation. Resistance to occupation was

growing but could still be plausibly misconstrued as the last throes of the defeated regime.

The situation in the city of Fallujah was ambiguous. Whilst the area was previously a

stronghold of the ruling Baath Party, tribal leaders had elected a strongly pro-US mayor, and

insurgent attacks were increasing. Then, in contested circumstances, US troops fired on a

stone-throwing crowd of 200 who had defied a curfew to demand the Americans leave and

allow a school they had been using as a base to reopen. Seventeen were killed then and a

further two shot during a protest against the first shootings. The ensuing dramatic increase

in local hostility led the Americans to withdraw most forces from the city to more secure

posts outside.

On March 31st, insurgents ambushed a convoy of two vehicles tasked to escort food

deliveries for US forces. Small arms fire and grenades killed four armed civilian contractors

from the Blackwater organisation travelling in a four-wheel drive vehicle, and a second team

of three fought their way out. The insurgents vanished and a triumphant crowd of young

men took the ex-servicemen’s bodies from their vehicle, set them on fire, and dragged them

through the streets to hang them from a bridge over the Euphrates. Video and still-images on

American television screens prompted outrage and strident demand for vengeance. Political

pressure on the US Government to act was echoed in some military comments, with

Brigadier General Kimmitt making aggressive promises of “overwhelming response” to

“pacify that city”.

The local commander, Lieutenant-General Conway, counselled continuation of a

measured approach and engaging tribal leaders in restoring order. He strongly argued that

the US must neither be seen to act in revenge nor attack without appropriate preparation for

urban combat. After three days the White House overruled him. Operation Vigilant Resolve

was mounted to ‘re-establish security’: three days of bloody and destructive fighting with

heavy civilian casualties gained control of only 25% of the city, whilst protests from the US-

appointed Iraqi governing council and international bodies grew, and popular protest and

violent resistance flared across Iraq. Notably, Shiite communities began collecting

transfusion blood for their erstwhile Sunni enemies, now hailed as ‘brothers’. Under

international pressure and making little headway, the US announced a unilateral truce that

Page xiv Does Repression Coerce? © 2012 CAHK

became a stalemate punctuated by violent outbursts. Concurrently, a Takfiri insurgent force

strengthened its hold on the city, setting the scene for a later battle in November.

The ‘Blackwater Bridge’ incident as it became known, can be seen as the trigger for

a counterproductive battle that marked, and arguably engendered, a dramatic political shift to

widespread popular violent resistance against the occupation.

In asymmetric struggles between forces with great difference in strength, this kind of

counterproductive reaction is, tragically, often seen. Two hundred years ago, when the

Spanish population discovered their monarch had been usurped, citizens in Madrid and other

cities rose in revolt and killed occupying French soldiers. Goya’s famous painting ‘3rd May

1808’ depicts the reprisals in which hundreds of citizens were shot. The result was a

widespread, spontaneous and bloody popular rebellion that introduced the term ‘guerrilla

war’ to our language. Over the following years, constant attacks on the French lines of

communication bled the strength of the Grande Armée and hastened their eventual

withdrawal from the Peninsula.

Similarly, during WW2, when the German invaders swept east across the USSR, the

population freed from Stalin’s Commissars were often ambivalent in their loyalties. Initial

armed resistance was sporadic and mostly from isolated Soviet soldiers. German policies of

massive reprisal against civilians in areas where attacks occurred, however, generated

widespread hostility. This hostility grew to become the partisan movement that tied down a

significant proportion of German forces to rear area security duties; forces that might have

tipped the balance of the campaign and thus the war. Vengeful behaviour can have a

strategic penalty.

History also demonstrates that genocidal levels of repression can be effective:

Rome’s destruction of Carthage or Genghis Khan’s annihilation of cities that refused to

surrender are unambiguous cases. Decimation may suffice: a rebellion after the conquest of

1066 led to William of Normandy’s ‘Harrying of the North’ which laid waste to the entire

northern countryside and directly, or through starvation, killed perhaps 10% of England’s

population; there were few rebellions thereafter. But short of this severity, results are less

clear. Neither Cromwell’s butchery in Ireland, at places like Drogheda, nor the brutal

suppression of the (Chechen) Murids by the Russian Tsars bought more than a few decades

respite for those seen as occupiers.

The curious thing is that sometimes limited brutality has worked. During the civil

war that followed the Irish War of Independence, waged by the anti-treaty IRA against the

emergent Irish Free State, the IRA’s campaign against the Government appears to have been

Front Matter Page xv

broken by systematic execution of hostages. This was done on a scale never attempted by

the British in the preceding war of independence, yet British executions are usually

understood to have been what shifted public opinion behind the IRA in the first conflict. The

Indian suppression of the Sikh Khalistani movement was noted for aggressive tactics, yet

appears to have been successful in crushing the insurgency. Understanding why brutality

worked in similar cases might give insights as to when robust approaches are appropriate.

Misjudgement is the stuff of all conflicts: it has been said that victory in war is a

function of making less mistakes than the opponent. However in a ‘symmetric’ war in which

two or more states with similar orders of capability are struggling their utmost, both sides are

already likely to be using the most aggressive means that law and convention allow,

therefore vengeful overreaction has less scope. There are exceptions. During the 1940

Battle of Britain, German aircraft bombed suburbs of London, an action usually described as

accidental, influencing the British decision to bomb Berlin in retaliation. Hitler was

outraged at this ‘retaliatory’ attack and threatened to obliterate British cities in response,

directing a switch of German bomber targets from British fighter airfields to London,

arguably giving a critical respite to an RAF Fighter Command on the verge of collapse.

Overreactions such as this may only play a constrained part during symmetric war, but can

be a key factor in launching such wars.

Provocation, overreaction and vengeful response to harm or insult have often been

casus belli since long before Helen of Troy was stolen from her husband. Examples of

disastrous consequence can be seen down the ages. In 1618, the Holy Roman Emperor’s

indignant response to Bohemian Protestants throwing two of his envoys from a high window

started the Thirty Years War, which may have killed up to 30% of the population of Central

Europe. Similarly, angry Austrian reaction to the assassination of Archduke Franz

Ferdinand led to the equally wasteful bloodbath of WW1. In initiating conflict between

states, such aggressive reactions typically release existing strategic pressures: they are not

the main driver. In asymmetric conflicts, the weaker actor is incapable of being a true

military-strategic threat and there is no rational imperative for the stronger actor to act

especially aggressively: aggression is a political choice. That the stronger party has choice

is, however, only half of the equation. In asymmetric conflict the weaker actor is almost

always utterly dependent on popular support to prosper. It is overreaction by the stronger

that is most likely to enable that popular support for the weaker actor. It is a grand irony of

asymmetric conflict that it is often enabled and sustained by the strong actor’s choices.

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For My Parents

Hilary and Anthony Knight

1Chapter 1: Introduction

1.1 GENERAL

This research broadly concerns why strong state actors behave in counterproductively

aggressive ways against much weaker opponents within contemporary asymmetric conflicts,

(that is those conflicts where there is a large imbalance of capability to apply violence). Beliefs

in the suppressive efficacy of ‘robust’ approaches enable such behaviours. The study specifically

investigates the validity of the proposition that coercive state violence can reduce functional

support for insurgents.

It is not especially difficult to understand how state actors may feel ‘justified’ in taking

repressive actions against communities that apparently support those who use ‘illegitimate’

political violence. Similarly, with a little empathy, one can understand how such repressive state

behaviour promotes community counter-mobilisation in support of insurgents or desertion of the

state by government supporters, rendering state repression counterproductive. This doomed

process is well known, yet persistently recurs.

This phenomenon of counterproductive decisions made by strong state actors that serve

to enhance a weak opponent has parallels in the medical world. Broadhurst (2008) has pointed

out a similarity with ‘iatrogenic’ treatment, meaning any adverse effect on a patient resulting

from interventions carried out by medical staff. The parallel is strong one. Iatrogenic effects in

either case flow from confident decisions of high-status actors, whose intentions are presumably

for the ‘greater good’, yet which are often made with disregard for evidence-based research and

which kill and injure thousands. This thesis therefore proposes an Iatrogenic Syndrome, or I-

Syndrome, of self-harming behaviours in asymmetric conflict driven by emotion, expediency and

other factors to be discovered. Critically, an intention to act repressively is shaped and then

justified by the belief that robust actions will subdue resistance; the enabling logic of the I-

Syndrome is that repression suppresses. The concern of this research is whether there is a

reasonable basis for such belief.

The dilemma is that states typically use violent coercion against insurgents and,

notwithstanding setbacks, usually prevail (Hashimoto, 2009, p. 2). Furthermore, sometimes

highly repressive measures are temporally associated with an insurgency ending. Thus violent

coercion can be construed as having ‘worked’; but has it? As long as the conditions under which

‘successful repression’ might occur are unexplained, it is harder for decision makers to resist

choosing the aggressive measures that either their own emotions or those of their political

constituencies favour. This is, therefore, the focus of this research.

Does Repression Coerce? © 2012 CAHK

The analysis at the heart of this thesis considers the set of thirty insurgencies most

recently resolved worldwide and looks at the effects of robust state action on support for

insurgents. It then examines in detail those two cases in which the state’s use of repressive

measures is most strongly associated with reduced support for the insurgents. These are thus

cases in which I-syndrome is least likely to be shown and are so the ‘most difficult’ tests of an

iatrogenic interpretation.

1.1.1 Chapter Structure

This introductory chapter orientates the reader and provides essential explanation. The

remainder of this general section describes the motivation for and objective of this project.

Subsequent sections are:

The Conceptual Framework of Enquiry

The Significance of the Research

Key Constructs and Definitions

1.1.2 Motivation for the Study

The origins of this enquiry lie in the author’s encounters with four things that suggested

the existence of an I-Syndrome: commonplace denial of the rationality of terrorism, US refusal to

consider 9/11 as a provocation, irrational responses to challenging this and the counterproductive

decision to attack Fallujah in 2004.

Terrorism is commonly portrayed as immoral, inexplicable and irrational. The author’s

understanding, bolstered by an unconventional military background, is, however, that selective

violence can be a rational and efficient way to achieve political results, particularly where aims

are negative or limited: an example is the derailing of the Arab-Israeli peace process by the

murder of Yithzak Rabin. In conversations exploring this dilemma by postulating ‘terrorist’

actions, correspondents have often denied terrorist rationality whilst commending punitive

responses. This developed the author’s curiosity around the notion that outrage at some types of

attack can lead targets to take reflexive actions that might be against their long-term interests, an

idea that took sharper focus in September 2001.

After the 9/11 attacks, some warned of overreaction (C. Johnson, 2001, p. 24), but

subsequent failure of the mainstream US media to seriously pursue a rational motive for the

attacks seemed both increasingly perverse and suggestive of a phenomenon (Mueller, 2006, p.

197). Any attempts to assign a rational purpose appeared to be confused with justification of the

act, triggering hostility. Initial evasion of the possibility that al Qaeda intended to provoke the

US appeared to become a patriotic dogma of denial after President Bush’s (2001) Manichaean

“you are with us or with the terrorists” speech that Tan (2009, p. 71) rather generously labels

‘misdiagnosis’. This psychologically explicable loss of perspective was reported across America

Introduction Page 3

(Skitka, Bauman, Aramovich, & Morgan, 2006, p. 375). It manifested as overwhelming

unquestioning support for an aggressive foreign policy response, leading to what many

commentators label the geo-strategic disasters of Iraq and Afghanistan. Regardless of al Qaeda’s

intentions, they induced a strategic reaction that has harmed US strategic interests (Zimmerman,

2002) and promoted al Qaeda’s doctrines to a worldwide Muslim audience; an iatrogenic

outcome.

The potency of an anger-triggering strategy was only reinforced by personal exchanges.

The author was castigated in offensive terms by erstwhile US friends for raising these concerns

(Undisclosed, 2001), a senior academic (Undisclosed, 2002) reported being physically threatened

for suggesting a baseline ‘do nothing’ response and Kilcullen (2004b) was berated in an

academic forum in Kuwait by US personnel for pointing out that the 9/11 hijackers were the

epitome of the attributes of motivation and education espoused by the Special Forces community.

Ironically, at that very forum he had pointed out:

Rationality exists within a cultural boundary made up of norms, expectations and conventions. When some action or trigger event causes that boundary to be crossed, people tend to react irrationally on the basis of deeply held, often unconscious cultural instincts. This is the mechanism that Asymmetric warfare turns into a weapon (Kilcullen, 2004a, p. 3).

A prime example of this process was the events in Fallujah described in the prologue.

The Marine Corps were the US experts in urban warfare (Burger, 2002). The senior leadership

decision, described in the prologue, which overruled the Marine commander’s strong and

sustained advice not to attack Fallujah in April 2004 in response to ‘Blackwater Bridge’, was

therefore hard to fathom. He warned that this would ferment resistance (Hills, 2006, p. 623), and

that more time was required (West, 2005, p. 7). To ignore local commander’s advice is hardly

unprecedented, but to do so where there was no military urgency highlights another plausible

‘driver’: the US popular demand for vengeance and either cynical exploitation of that or

emotionally distorted decisions by leaders and their staff. This case highlights the potential

dangers of attacks with high emotional impact that may repress critical analysis. Recent research

(Maoz & McCauley, 2008, p. 93) reinforces that ‘dehumanising’ an adversary is a rational part of

sustaining an aggressive military policy, however the aggression itself may be an instinctive

‘irrational’ psychological reaction, not a calculated policy choice.

These four factors drove the notion of a phenomenon that might be deliberately exploited

by adversaries. That they are US examples should not associate such responses with any

particular nation or culture.

Thus this thesis starts from the counterintuitive view that an I-syndrome may occur

through the interaction of calculated ‘rational’ actions by ‘terrorists’ and ‘irrational’

psychological responses by states.


1.1.3 An Educational Objective

A key driver for this work was the authors fear that in the future the I-syndrome might be

seen operating in Australia. A culture of relative tolerance does not give immunity to emotional

overreactions or counterproductive responses to atrocity. The ‘best outcome’ sought from this

thesis is by contributing to Wesley’s (2010) ‘debate on the next war’ and inform both policy and

popular understanding of the I-syndrome and the application of robust measures. It especially

seeks to address the risk that Australians could act in a counter-productive way in the wake of

major terrorist attacks.

1.2 A CONCEPTUAL FRAMEWORK OF ENQUIRY

This research began by exploring Kilcullen’s idea that an asymmetric attack breaks

cultural boundaries, the target reacts irrationally and it is that reaction to an adversary’s action

which causes the major damage, not the initial action. The thesis was envisaged as a broad study

of aggressive state responses to non-state adversaries which proved counterproductive. It

crystallised into a specific research question about the effects of robust state coercion on non-

state constituencies. Though for analytic reasons this research ultimately tests cases of

insurgency, it was framed as a multi-disciplinary study. As Kilcullen puts it:

...to understand today’s threat, analysts and operators must look beyond traditional “terrorism studies” to disciplines like anthropology, human geography, economics, and systems theory. One must not only apply the lens of counterterrorism, but also of counterinsurgency, countersubversion, and political warfare. Today’s threat is all of these, and more than any of them (2007, p. 648).

The research also accepts Thakrah’s logic that ‘to explain successful terrorism one

should study the target not the terrorist’ (2004, p. 84). However, this study deliberately looked

well beyond the contested boundaries (Blakeley, 2008, p. 153) of ‘Terrorism Studies’ in pursuit

of Neumann’s (2008, p. 7) strategic perspective. The working construct (defined below) of

Asymmetric Coercive Violence (ACV)’ merges ‘terrorism’, insurgency and guerrilla warfare

and is less psychologically loaded, accommodates more source material and theoretical

perspectives and offers a potentially richer understanding of effect mechanisms1.

How this framework bounded the iterative development of the question and the method

is described below.

1.2.1 Developing an Enquiry

The process of ‘problem formulation’ (Van de Venn, 2007, p. 71) that turned a paradox

into an analytic project can be outlined by three questions that articulate a narrowing focus. First,

a broad view across multiple literature fields asked two ‘strategic process’ questions:

1 Mechanisms are relationships between particular types of entities and activities that regularly bring about a particular type of outcome (Hedstrom, 2008, p. 319).

Introduction Page 5

How do terrorism and other unconventional actions achieve strategic results during

asymmetric conflict; and

What are the mechanisms and processes?’

A tentative answer developed the argument that weak non-state actors cannot compel so

they coerce, manipulating violence to either grow resistance enough to militarily challenge the

state actor, or sustain resistance and impose unacceptable costs: the notion that became the

construct of ACV. It is evident that to grow resistance, even when externally supported, the non-

state weak actor must gain and retain support from part of the population. Providing such

support involves great risks that people are reluctant to take so powerful levers are needed by

insurgents. The focus thus narrowed to this ‘support problem’ and asked:

What are the key processes and levers that shift support for non-state actors?

Ironically, it seems that the most potent levers are often those wielded by the state itself,

whose early behaviour in a conflict typically generates or accentuates a baseline popular

grievance. Support for non-state challengers is often limited, but robust state response to their

initial rebellion variously generates an unexplained mixture of compliance and greater resistance.

This can be represented as a cycle of violence and response, shown diagrammatically in Fig 1.

Figure 1: The Cycle of Response

There are three processes. The insurgent red actors apply violence against the Blue state

constituency or its interests. The Blue decision makers then typically choose robust policies

which then impact on the natural constituency of the weak or ‘red’ actor. This often, but not

always, increases support for the insurgents. There are two puzzles within this cycle. The first is

the relationship between violence suffered by Blue and unknown factors leading to robust policy.

The second puzzle is the relationship between robust policy and increased support.


The first puzzle was the focus of the initial research question:

‘Is there a targetable2 phenomenon of counter-productive behaviour in the face of

terrorism and similar violence which is triggered by our emotional responses?’

This question drove the first and inconclusive pilot study described below.

1.2.2 Developing a Method

How the research problem might be addressed and the necessary evolution of a final

question was largely dictated by data availability, ethics clearance and the challenges of quality

control when generating new datasets. Existing quantitative datasets that consider state responses

to ACV are sparse, geographically limited and have limited relevant coding (Munroe, 2008, p.

4)3. Re-coding one of the major international conflict datasets was rejected as being too large a

project4. Generating new data by conducting (Delphi) surveys of expert commentators was

judged inconclusive whilst gathering survey or similar data in an ACV field setting was neither

logistically feasible, nor likely to gain university approval. Experiments analogous to the

approach of Pyszczynski and other ‘Terror Management Theory’ investigators (Landau et al.,

2004; Pyszczynski et al., 2006; Young-Ok & William, 2005), which conditioned experimental

groups with imagery of terrorist violence and showed consequent aggressive responses to foreign

policy questions might have been adapted to test an expected distortion of decision making

processes (Greenberg & Kosloff, 2008). To ensure relevant ‘generalisability’ and allay concerns

about psychological trauma an experiment using army personnel was proposed. An indicative

instrument was created for discussion of the project and in-principle support from the military

obtained but ethical issues proved insurmountable5 and the experimental approach was

reluctantly set aside for later research.

The available relevant data were, therefore, existing secondary and tertiary documents,

especially prior research, historical studies and media material which led the research strategy

2 i.e. The phenomenon can be deliberately exploited by adversaries 3 For example, the Terrorism in Western Europe (TWEED) database covers only a few European countries and internal conflicts. 4 In discussions, several established researchers emphasised this magnitude, one noting in correspondence with the author that the major terrorism databases have several full-time researchers working on each of them. (Schmidt 2007). 5 The proposed experiment was based on a ‘decision exercise’ where a counterinsurgency tactical problem is presented to a group of soldiers and they have limited time to choose one of a menu of options of different robustness. A randomly selected experimental group have the problem presented in emotive terms (e.g. including the description of the repeated rape of a female Australian soldier by insurgents). The control group have the identical problem described in dry factual terms. It was very much expected that the experimental group would favour more robust options. A military colleague of the author gave in-principle support for an experiment to be conducted with the current cohort of staff college candidates, but conditional on the University giving ethics approval. Unfortunately, during discussions with civilian academics it became clear that most were uncomfortable with the generation of such (relatively minor and transient) psychological stresses and the associated risks of such as triggering latent PTSD and other conditions. They indicated that ethical approval would be conditional on a range of precautionary arrangements and provision of follow-up care that would create a time impost on the subjects that the army would not believe necessary nor be likely to accept, given the existence of established psychological care arrangements.

Introduction Page 7

towards qualitative or ‘process’ designs. It was clear that the best way to adequately understand

the processes surrounding any iatrogenic phenomenon would be to conduct one (or more) very

detailed case study (Levy, 2008; Stake, 2000; Yin, 2003). However, it is imperative to avoid

case selection bias (D. M. Jones, p. 483), so an early intent was to triangulate with a mixed-

method approach as recommended by many researchers (Denzin & Lincoln, 2008; Plano Clark

& Creswell, 2008; Stake, 2000). This was envisaged as a two stage qualitative design such as

Arreguin-Toft (1998, 2005a) used that started with an analysis of a comprehensive set of

conflicts at a low resolution to establish trends and was followed by several detailed case

analyses to explain those trends. This evolved into a design building on existing RAND6 data

only after the failure of two different pilot studies.

1.2.3 The Pilot Studies

Although the first pilot study did not deliver significant results and the second proved

unmanageably large, they both provided insights and redirected the research and so merit further

description.

Pilot 1: The Lutz and Lutz Study

The initially approved method for this research was a three level case study, applied to

the ‘representative’ terrorist campaigns dating from the Plebeian revolts in Ancient Rome found

in ‘Terrorism: Origins and Evolution’ (Lutz & Lutz, 2005). All 139 of the campaigns were pilot-

coded for variation in context and possible coercive mechanisms as well as ‘counterproductive’

and ‘suppressive’ types of response using Clodfelter (2008) Sarkees and Wayman (2010) and

Brogan (1990) as data sources. The second proposed level of study was a comparative analysis

of 8-12 pairs of cases7 selected on the basis of expected differences or similarities in dependent

and independent variables, whilst the third level was expected to make a very detailed study of

the most challenging cases.

The pilot coding had been completed when the author attended the 2009 Society for

Terrorism Research conference in Belfast and presented a paper (Knight, 2009) outlining the

project. The theoretical part of the paper was well received, indeed much encouraged, but the

pilot study was challenged by several senior researchers on the grounds of comparable reliability

of data across an historical time scale and case selection bias in the source work.

6 The US non-profit research and development organization in Santa Monica, California that was an outgrowth of a private venture during WW2 of the Douglas Aircraft Company intended to connect military planning with science and technology. 7 An example of such pairing is the ‘natural experiment’ that appears to exist in the contrast between the ‘counterproductive’ use of robust measures by the British during the Irish War of Independence and the ‘suppressive’ use of arguably harsher measures by the Irish Free State immediately afterwards, with few other variables changing other than the protagonists.


After returning chastened to Australia, the author contacted Professor Lutz and

established that the case selection rules that had been applied were supportable and reliability

concerns could be addressed, provided the limitations were managed openly. However, this

promising approach was eventually and reluctantly abandoned, not because of the very real data

issues (though these might have yet been its downfall), rather because the pilot study did not

produce the anticipated results. Whilst ‘raw counts’ did deliver insights,8 there was no clear

relationship between the suppressive or counterproductive effects of robust action and other

possible variables. This impression was tested by statistical analysis using SPSS

(notwithstanding the small and not statistically robust sample). However, a correlation matrix

and factor analysis applied to counterproductive responses did show logical loose ‘clusters’ of

factors which reassured the author that the method was being applied correctly. This failure to

reveal patterns combined with the earlier challenge to the data itself and a new realisation that

treating an entire conflict as a single case for coding was leading to anomalies (one campaign

could sometimes be an instance of both responses to robust reaction). This demanded a method

change.

Pilot 2: The Libicki’s List Study

For the second study, the research aim and broad methodological approach remained

unchanged. A new set of campaigns with better data availability and academic recognition was

clearly required and Libicki’s (2008) list of 89 post WW2 insurgencies was chosen9. Framing

the research question around the role of emotion in the absence of psychological expertise was

fraught, so this was rephrased as:

What are the factors (conditions and circumstances) associated with

counterproductive state response within asymmetric conflict?’

To investigate this, each conflict would be coded for a range of potentially causal or

significant factors. The historical record would then be checked to find the first unequivocal

example of each of four increasingly repressive10 categories of robust action:

Lethal use of firearms by Blue during and against a Red demonstration

Forced relocations of Red constituents

Executions11 of Red activists

8 For instance 18 of the 139 conflict cases showed clear instances of counterproductive consequence for a state’s robust reaction and 24 cases showing the presumably desired suppressive result which suggests that expecting robust measures to work is not inherently unreasonable and aligns with past work showing that quantitative approaches to the historical record are inconclusive. 9 This is built on Fearon and Latains dataset of 127 Conflicts which is derived from ‘Correlates of War Data’ (Sarkees & Wayman, 2010) 10 These are considered to be progressively more repressive based on the work of Mathew Krain (Krain, 2000) P193, who polled a set of experts to rank repressive (and accommodative) measures. 11 All executions regardless of rationale.

Introduction Page 9

Mass12 Killings

Each such instance of robust action was to be examined and coded for two things.

Firstly, for indications of consequent shifts of ‘supportive behaviour’ including; wider rebellion,

external aid or protests by neutral or Blue constituencies in the month following the event.

Secondly, the instance was coded as to whether there was a readily discovered academic

argument or statements by subject participants that such a shift was due to one of 8 factors from

the literature.

When piloting the approach against the first nine conflicts on Libicki’s list, the

instruments appeared effective and the data rich and likely to provide a sound basis for both

semi-quantitative and qualitative analysis. Unfortunately the estimates of a day or two to gather

and code the data for each conflict proved hopelessly optimistic. It had been expected that the

coding could be done using the three reference sources applied in pilot 1 plus a relatively small

number of further sources. In fact, there was so much disagreement between sources that fifteen

or more references needed to be cross checked for each candidate event. It was clear that no

matter how promising for theory development, the approach would not sit within the scope of

this thesis.

A logic problem was also becoming evident. The notion of ‘flawed decision making’

infers that aggressive decisions will have predictable counterproductive consequences, and it

became increasingly evident that such predictability was the question that had not been

addressed. Certainly, many had argued against aggressive responses to insurgency and terrorism

and some had argued for them, with case and statistical evidence mustered for both positions,

however there had been relatively sparse discussion of the factors driving outcomes and no

systematic examination was encountered. For these reasons, the focus shifted again from

aggressive decision making itself, to the fundamental reason that aggressive decisions had proved

counterproductive. This represented a shift from the first to the second part of the puzzle of the

cycle of response, i.e. to the relationship between robust policy and increased support. This

called for a different approach again. The question was now rephrased to articulate that shift and

the lessons of the pilot studies.

1.2.4 The Research Question Refined

The research question was refined as:

‘Robust action by an asymmetrically attacked State is psychologically and politically

explicable but often counterproductive. It promotes counter-mobilization or de-

mobilisation in favour of insurgents for similarly explicable psychological reasons.

Sometimes, however, very robust action is associated with reduced support for

12 Killing of 25 plus non-combatants or captives in a single event where the perpetrating actors are not decisively engaged at time of killing.


insurgents. Is this causal and what are the mechanisms or processes involved that

shift such support in these cases?’

The methodological challenge of answering this question was finally resolved by a

serendipitous encounter with a recent counterinsurgency research project.

1.2.5 The Method Applied

The breakthrough came through the RAND Corporation study: Victory Has a Thousand

Fathers: Sources of Success in Counterinsurgency (VTFS). Paul, Clarke and Grill’s (2010b)

work offered a credible and peer-reviewed dataset that could be re-analysed with their methods to

test for the general effects of robust action on insurgent support using Ragin’s Qualitative

Comparative Analysis (QCA). Crucially, it also offered a defensible and ‘logical’ basis for case

selection, by identifying the ‘most difficult’ cases for analysis and thus addressing the perennial

critique of selection bias (Gerring, 2007, p. 86). This detailed analysis was done using the

‘structured focussed method’(George & Bennett, 2005) with an element of process tracing of

mechanisms using the systems model of insurgency (Leites & Wolf, 1970) that underpinned the

pacification strategy in Vietnam. The use of a model that explains and expects the effectiveness

of robust measures, on cost-benefit grounds, offers a similar ‘most difficult’ test of the I-

Syndrome understanding. These methods are described in Chapter 3.

1.3 SIGNIFICANCE

Contribution

This project provides an original and substantial contribution to knowledge regarding the

processes by which robust state actions intended to repress support for insurgency may actually

stimulate it. The research is original in its synthesis of existing understanding, generation of new

analytic constructs, including a matrix of response to coercion, and a new application of the

systems based model of insurgency. It also highlights promising new perspectives on coercion.

The findings advance the debate between researchers favouring ‘robust’ and ‘restrained’

approaches to ACV.

Outcome

The bivariate analysis of 30 conflicts and detailed examination of two selected cases

offers strong evidence for counter-productive consequences of robust action and conditionally

refutes the argument that repressive violence deters more than it stimulates. This finding opens

the way for examination of aggressive decision making as an I-Syndrome and as a particular

vulnerability which contemporary ‘terrorists’ might exploit to maximise harm. There appears to

Introduction Page 11

be significant potential for exploitation of the counter-productive effect by adversaries in the

future.

New Research Directions

Apart from underpinning future research on an I-syndrome, this research has identified a

range of promising new directions. It takes a small step to address the ‘clear evidence of past

dependence on limited analytical frameworks’ observed by Cronin & Ludes (2004, p. 20), by

offering new constructs of elements of coercion as well as developing Leites and Wolf’s (1970)

system model into a case analytic instrument. New candidate cases for testing with this thesis’s

method are suggested, in addition to proposing separate comparative analysis of militias and

collective punishment in insurgency. Two pilot studies that proved unsuitable for this enquiry

suggested other comparative conflict studies and have done much of the foundation work for a

quantitative study of changes in response to robust measures over time and a study of the

processes of support shifts early in insurgency. Finally, this work highlights the benefits of a

shift to studying the targets of ACV rather than the perpetrators. A fundamental problem with

‘terrorism’ research is the lack of access to representative samples of actors. It is not difficult to

assemble subjects to role-play the part of ‘terrorists’, but it is very difficult to assess the

representativeness of their behaviour. It is much easier to gain access to statistically

representative random samples of populations that are reasonable proxies for constituencies

subjected to robust state policies. When shifting focus to societal reaction to coercive or

‘terrorist’ violence then we potentially have access to equally good samples of proxies, even for

decision makers themselves.

1.4 KEY CONSTRUCTS AND DEFINITIONS

There is a set of concepts that is vital to discussion and analysis within this research, with

value neutral labels preferred. These are briefly introduced and defined here. They include the

new construct of ‘asymmetric coercive violence’, coined because existing terms such as

‘terrorism’ or ‘asymmetry’ have an embedded ambiguity which redefinition does not remove.

Coercion and Compulsion

Coercion is widely understood as the action of influencing another’s choice of behaviour

by threat rather than overwhelming force, but technical definitions differ across fields. For

instance, ‘coercion theory’ in international affairs largely concerns threatened nuclear

consequences (Geis, 2007, p. 20). This thesis builds on Bratton (2005, p. 100), to define coercion

as the ‘inducement of an opponent to choose to act, or not act, against their inclination by

applying some form of pressure or threat which may or may not be enhanced by actions that are

short of overwhelming force’. Crucially, this conception of coercion infers the target has a


choice of compliance in the face of a threat of future harm that is less than certain, immediate and

total. It also follows the broader understanding of Schelling’s (2008, pp. 1-6) adherents and

criminologists (Reidy & Riker, 2008, pp. 4, 5, 32) that coercion encompasses both re-active

‘deterrent’ threats of retaliation made to cause an opponent not to take an action as well as pro-

active enhancement of threats that manipulate costs and benefits by actually administering

‘coercive punishment’ ...‘until the opponent complies’ (Pape, 2003, p. 346) and either stops or

undertakes an action. Schelling (2008, pp. 1-6) called this ‘compellance’, but that term standing

alone will be avoided because it is easily confused with the more specific notion of compulsion

(defined below). Three distinct categories of coercion are defined for this study.

‘Impellant coercion’ is the use of a threat to induce a target to execute an action.

‘Suppressive coercion’ is the use of a threat to induce a target to cease an action. ‘Deterrent

coercion’ is the use of a threat to induce a target not to carry out an action. The threat is ‘latent’ if

no harm has yet been done and involves ‘pro-active harm’ if hurt has already been inflicted. The

threat may be ‘contingent’ on target compliance with certain given or implied conditions or may

be a ‘non-contingent’ threat intended to punish, frighten or humiliate.

Criminological coercion researchers have long examined the relative value for achieving

compliance of ‘certainty of punishment’ (likelihood) and ‘celerity’ (immediacy) and ‘severity’,

with the empirical evidence tending to suggest that certainty of apprehension is the more

effective ‘coercive’ factor (Nagin & Pogarsky, 2001, p. 865). International relations scholars use

the similar concepts of ‘credibility’ (whether the target believes the threat) and ‘persuasiveness’

(how damaging an executed threat will be) (Bratton, 2005, p. 101). These different notions have

sometimes been theoretically labelled ‘transformation rules’, but this document will use the

simpler term ‘coercion factors’. In situations where the likelihood and immediacy of response

are very high and the severity significant, a state of ‘pervasive control’ will be said to exist.

‘Compulsion’ is the act of forcing somebody to do something where the target

manifestly has no choice. Theoretically speaking, this is limited to actual physical compulsion or

‘brute force’ since a target directed to act at gunpoint still has a choice to refuse. History is

littered with examples of people defiantly sacrificing their lives rather than complying, and these

are important because they demonstrate true loyalties and challenge rational actor theories. We

will therefore distinguish between ‘gunpoint compulsion’ and ‘manual compulsion’ where

necessary. In either case, there must be negligible possibility of deferring, escaping or

disregarding the threat. Achieving compulsion (sometimes also ambiguously called ‘control’)

invariably requires a significant personnel presence or ‘boots on the ground’ (Freedman, 2007, p.

319; Sullivan, 2009, p. 13).


Subject Conflicts: Asymmetric Coercive Violence and Insurgency

The label ‘asymmetry’ has been used since 1995 to describe conflicts between ‘strong’

states and ‘weaker’ failing or non-states, previously called ‘unconventional’, ‘irregular’ or

‘small’ wars where the weaker eschews open combat with conventional military elements

(Matthews, 1998, p. 19). The term is intended to highlight multiple other differences between the

combatants which Eaton (2002, p. 52), groups under ‘configuration, strategy, stake-holding and

viewpoint’.

Asymmetric conflict is defined as ‘a violent political struggle between two or more

actors where it is blatantly obvious to the parties involved or casual observers that one side

possesses preponderant combat capabilities’, adapted from Moore (2008, p. 41). This simple

definition is sufficient for the purposes of thesis discussion but not to operationalise case

selection. The more precise construct of ACV is defined as ‘the use of violence and the threat of

violence by armed but militarily weaker non-state actors to coerce a state actor to change the

political status quo, where the state exercises government functions and is supported by a

conventional army whose manpower and support equipment are both numerically larger than the

weaker actors’. Importantly, ACV encompasses and links the terrorism, insurgency and guerrilla

warfare as components of the spectrum of conflict proposed by Thornton (1964, p. 57). ACV

becomes conventional conflict or civil war when the non-state side has, or may plausibly have,

either as many combatants or as much combat support equipment as the stronger.

Insurgency, broadly understood as: ‘any rising against any government in power’

(Wilkinson, 2001, p. 2) is a subset of ACV. Since this thesis uses VTFS data, it assumes that

study’s definition of ‘a non-state versus state conflict that kills over 1000 people over its course,

with a yearly average of over 100 and at least that number on both sides, which is not a coup,

countercoup or insurrection’ (C. Paul et al., 2010b, p. 104).

Violent Actors and Actions

Labels for actors and actions in the field of political violence may be ambiguous or

pejorative, which has cognitive and analytic implications. This thesis favours neutral terms and

when clarity permits will use ACV to refer to the studied violence generally and adapt Leites and

Wolf’s (1970) approach to refer to ‘strong’, ‘Blue’ or ‘state’ actors opposed by ‘weak’, ‘Red’ or

‘insurgent’ actors, where clarity permits. An insurgent actor is ‘any non-state entity that seeks to

transform the status quo through the use and the threat of use of violence’ after Crouch (2009).

Nevertheless, other labels cannot be avoided, with much of the foundations of this

research in terrorism studies and the need to distinguish ACV tactics. A working definition of

terrorism for the purpose of this thesis is; ‘the conduct of violent attacks for political motives by

persons considered illegitimate that are intended to influence an audience beyond the physical

target’. This is the understanding that will be assumed when citing the terms ‘terrorism’,


‘terrorist’ or derivatives. Where more precision is essential for understanding, this thesis

develops Goodwin’s (2006, pp. 2030-2033) concepts to be more specific. ‘Categorical terrorism’

is ‘the strategic use of violence and threats of violence, usually intended to influence several

audiences, by oppositional political groups against civilians or non-combatants who belong to a

specific ethnicity, religious or national group, social class or some other collectivity without

regard to their individual identities or roles’. This form of ACV is distinct from ‘individual

assassination’ which is ‘the strategic use of lethal force by states or oppositional political groups

against specific combatants, civilians or non-combatants because of their individual identities or

roles and alleged direct or indirect responsibility’. Finally, ‘guerrilla warfare’ is the strategic use

of lethal force by oppositional political groups aimed at armed forces, state-sanctioned

paramilitaries or armed civilians’, with the qualification that such groups maintain local areas of

control within which they carry arms openly.

Constituencies, Support and Shifts

This thesis concerns shifts in support for states and insurgents. The term ‘constituency’

describes the population from whom a state or insurgent actor does or plausibly may gain

support. It is important to note that the simple concept of ‘support’ that often appears in the

literature is problematic. As Kalyvas (2006, p. 93) and Paul (2009, p. 115) spell out, even where

they can be polled, declared supportive attitudes or ‘sympathy’ do not equate to material support,

whilst conversely, ‘observed’ material support may actually have been coerced. However,

provided we recognise this limitation, what ultimately matters for our analysis is behaviour.

Thus the term ‘preferences’ is used to describe the actual, but usually unobservable, support

inclination of constituents. Building on Moore (2008, p. 35), observable support indicators are

assumed to exist along a spectrum of: resistance to demands, compliance with coercive demands

(the normal neutral condition), non-betrayal, compliance with requests, proactive support and

enlistment.

Shifts in support in response to robust actions and events are labelled from the state

actor’s perspective. ‘Counter-productive’ actions are those that either increase support for Red

from its constituency or decrease support for Blue from its constituency. ‘Counter-mobilisation’

is the first of these whereby Blue actions increase support for Red. ‘Desertion’ is the process

whereby Blue actions decrease support for Blue. Either of these mobilisations is unhelpful to the

state and is labelled ‘iatrogenic’ if it is a response to a deliberate state action that reflects official

policy. ‘Suppressive’ actions are those by Blue that reduce or contain Red support.

Reactance

‘Reactance’ is a psychological theory, originally developed in studies of child behaviour,

that helps explain non-compliant responses to coercion. Brehm and Brehm proposed (1981, p. 3)


that ‘when an individual or group is threatened with some new form of social control, they are

immediately motivated to act to eliminate this control and to restore their original freedom’. The

theory has been applied in relevant fields, for example research on deterrence versus backlash

responses to counterterrorist policies by communities in Northern Ireland, which argued that

under the right circumstances, ‘coercive harm may elicit increases in proscribed behaviour’

(2009, p. 21).

Robust Actions, Responses to Violence and Reverberation

This thesis explores responses to ‘robust’ state actions, which are ‘those over and above

conventional policing or that military violence needed to defeat an immediate local threat, where

the action is plausibly intended to punish and have a coercive effect beyond the event’. For

analytic purposes this includes ‘collective punishment’ within the insurgent actor’s constituency

or ‘escalating repression’ which describes state actions of increasing severity or rate (C. Paul et

al., 2010b, p. xxi).

The cascading process of response and counter-response within ACV is complex and

does not have a suitable neutral label. The sometimes applied construct of ‘terrorist provocation’

(1975, p. 683) implies insurgent instrumental intent. Similarly ‘blowback’ (Bergen & Reynolds,

2005), ‘backlash’ (Lafree et al., 2009) and ‘backfire’ (B. Martin, 2004) imply a misjudged state

response. Often neither implication can be justified nor do any of the terms communicate

‘multiple orders of effects’ in ACV that Kilcullen (2004a) has argued are so important. These

cascade and are increasingly unpredictable and independent of the initial intention.

Consider for example, an ambush of US soldiers by insurgents in Afghanistan. The first

Order of Effects (1oE) includes US casualties. This might trigger an aggressive search of nearby

houses in which civilians are killed, a Second Order of Effects (2oE). The bodies might be

filmed and shown on Al-Jazeerah, inspiring several recruits to join the insurgency, a Third Order

of Effects (3oE).

The term ‘reverberation’ will be used to succinctly capture this construct. It is where ‘a

violent trigger leads to a linked and usually reflexive cascade of effects and reactions resulting in

unpredictable military or political consequences’. The term describes both process and functions

and avoids attempting to determine intent. A ‘strategy’ of ‘reverberation’ covers all motivations

ranging from a calculated instrumental intention to provoke to a simple expressive desire to

inflict redress for a perceived wrong.


1.5 SUMMARY AND THESIS STRUCTURE

This chapter has orientated the reader, given project origins, provided a conceptual

framework and defined key concepts. An annexe is at the end of the document providing the

materials used to conduct the study. The remainder of the thesis consists of the following

chapters:

Chapter 2 - Literature Review

Chapter 3 - Method

Chapter 4 - Case Narrative: Kampuchea

Chapter 5 - Case Analysis: Kampuchea

Chapter 6 - Case Narrative: Turkey

Chapter 7 - Case Analysis: Turkey

Chapter 8 - Findings, Discussion, and Conclusions

2Chapter 2: Literature review

Introduction

This review both develops the argument for a proposed I-syndrome and builds towards a

theoretical framework to examine whether robust state action reduces effective popular support

for insurgents. It moves across the massive literature (C. Lum, Kennedy, & Sherley, 2008) of

ACV from the general to the specific, organised in the following sections:

The Impact of Support and Coercion: the first section reviews theories of ACV at the

strategic level in order to orientate the research, demonstrate the central role of support

and coercion and relate this to state response.

Inducing Robust State Action: the second section outlines adversary and academic

works that that acknowledge ‘provocation’ as a key violent function and show its role in

shifting popular support.

State Responses to ACV: the third section describes the arguments for robust and

restrained responses to ACV, categories of state reaction and a selection of analyses that

demonstrate the inconclusive nature of that debate and the consequent ‘gaps’.

Aggressive Responses and Support Shifts: the fourth section overviews theories that

explain why state actors may favour robust actions and identifies proposed factors to

account for shifts in constituency support.

Rationale and Theoretical Framework: the fifth section brings together key themes

from the previous sections to provide the rationale for the research, build investigative

constructs, highlight gaps and identify hypotheses and sub questions.

2.1 SECTION A: THE IMPACT OF SUPPORT AND COERCION

This section addresses the broad question of: how important is support and coercion in

ACV, and where does robust action impact on this?

A range of perspectives on the role and manipulation of popular support is outlined, and

then insights are drawn from explanations of weak actor victory in asymmetric conflict and the

analyses of ACV efficacy and outcomes.

An Integrated View

This thesis takes an integrated strategic perspective, meaning it merges a ‘grand strategy’

view that relates the research issues of support and robust action to political goals, with a


‘strategic process’ that links these down to the functional effects of both Red and Blue violence.

An integrated approach, common in other conflict studies fields, has only recently been extended

into the realm of ‘terrorism’ (Neumann & Smith, 2008, p. 79). Terrorism has been labelled a

strategy (Price, 1977, p. 52) or a function within a strategy (Merari, 1993, p. 213), and many

scholars acknowledge that ‘terrorists make strategic calculations’ (C. D. Moore, 2008, p. 24).

‘Strategic’ treatment of terrorism is however focussed on Blue actions and analysis of Red and

Blue interactions remains rare (Schmid, Jongman, & Stohl, 1988 [1984], p. 192; Sinai, 2007, p.

31). This hints at psychological bias against treating terrorism as rational, and certainly suggests

value in research into the processes under encompassing neutral constructs like ACV.

2.1.1 Popular Support and Cost Infliction

Though ACV is ancient, its modern form dates from the 1808 Spanish popular

‘guerrilla’13 against Napoleon (Brooker, 2010, p. 3). Contemporary prescriptions for inducing

popular support for uprisings can be found in William Pitt’s (Ehrman, 1996, p. 471)

machinations against Revolutionary France, and theories of deterring rebellion were later

developed by colonial warfare theorists like Calwell (1906, p. 26). However, deeper analysis

only emerged after WW2 in the context of communist support for de-colonisation struggles. The

socialist revolutionaries shared a key prescription of gaining and retaining popular support

(Neumann & Smith, 2008, p. 19). Mao (1966) developed Leninist ‘coup’ approaches into a

theory of a three-phase ‘peoples war’ that exploited time and space to escalate the struggle to

overwhelm the adversary (Garthoff, 1962, p. 570). Latin-American post-Maoists such as ‘Che’

Guevara developed the idea of the ‘foco insurreccional’ that would either inspire quiescent

populations or drive them to rebellion against the imperialist interventions they would induce

(Garthoff, 1962, p. 575; Johnson, 1973, p. 88).

Mao argued that ACV is dependent on ‘the sympathy and cooperation of the masses’

(Mao, 1961, p. 44) and this was reflected by early counter-revolutionary practitioner theorists

(Wardlaw, 1982, p. 46). Key scholarship acknowledged a central role for popular support, some

arguing that it was and could be controlled and coerced by torture or intimidation by either side

(Kitson, 1971, p. 90; Lindsay, 1962, p. 264; Trinqier, 1964, p. 7). Galula (1964, pp. 44, 47), was

more sophisticated and both cautioned against counter-productive tactics and commended

creating a competing ‘popular’ political structure whilst others emphasised exemplary Blue

behaviour (Clutterbuck, 1966; Thompson, 1966). British and US military theorists tended to

assume moral superiority and assessed that adversary support was simply coerced by

communists, therefore handicapping their recommendations by a failure to address underlying

legitimacy and adversary motivations (C. D. Moore, 2008, p. 8). Civilian commentary, such as

13 Meaning small war in Spanish.

Literature Review Page 19

Durrell’s (1956) critical account of the insurgency on Cyprus was less constrained and Taber was

explicit:

Whether the primary cause of revolution is nationalism, or social justice, or the anticipation of material progress, the decision to fight and to sacrifice is a social and a moral decision. Insurgency is thus a matter not of manipulation but of inspiration (1970, p. 177).

Gurr (1970, pp. 25, 37, 210) incorporated this notion into his theory of ‘relative

deprivation’ wherein ‘group identity’, ‘grievances’, and crucially ‘governmental response’ drive

‘common cause’. His ideas aligned with the ‘hearts and minds’ concept of ‘reducing the

demand’ for rebellion by earning popular support. This ‘support-centric’ approach was initially

associated with the US Kennedy administration’s new concept of Counter-insurgency. It was

envisaged as an enlightened anti-communist and anti-colonial doctrine of legitimate support that

explicitly rejected the brutality of ‘colonial pacification’ (Hunt, 2010, p. 36).

The linkage unravelled when the US Army, preferring conventional approaches, did not

embrace the concept and unsurprisingly encountered setbacks. They chose to minimise or

disregard popular support considerations and shifted to an alternative deterrent view that focussed

on reducing the supply of rebellion and which became associated with ‘body counts’ and brutal

coercive methods by US forces in Vietnam and elsewhere. These methods are still associated

with the ‘systems analysis’ by Leites & Wolf (1970) which was co-opted to provide the

underpinning philosophical justification for robust tactics. Although they are remembered for

being unapologetic about a requirement for violent coercion, Leites and Wolf also counselled that

the counterinsurgent should ‘avoid overreaction’, ‘focus on the Red organisation and logistics’

rather than ‘counterforce operations’, ‘suborn rather than kill’ and should ensure ‘good

intelligence’ (pp. 37, 39, 47, 78). They applied systems and economic theory and analysed

process in great detail to provide particularly useful insights into mechanisms of coercion,

provocation and the role of counterinsurgent ‘hot emotion’. They did nevertheless have a

philosophical opposition to ‘hearts and minds’ and assumed that insurgents and populations are

‘rational actors’ (C. D. Moore, 2008, p. 10).

Their systems model is especially useful for distinguishing the different points at which

the insurgency may be influenced. It is shown and explained below at Figure 2 and will be

revisited later.


Figure 2: Leites and Wolf's System Model of an Insurgency

After the US-Vietnam conflict, academic focus within ACV shifted to the emerging

Palestinian-led phenomenon of ‘international terrorism’ and began a still-continuing debate about

terrorism’s purposes, legitimacy and definition. Distinctions between ‘instrumental or

expressive’ (Merari, 1993, p. 15) ‘military and symbolic’ forms (Gupta, 2008, p. 83) recognise

different degrees of calculation. Indirectness of effect is central to Thornton’s (1964, p. 74)

definition that distinguishes between physical targets that are harmed and influence targets which

respond in ways that are of political benefit. McCormick modelled this idea as an influence

process as illustrated and explained in Figure 3.

An important notion was that when such ACV was calculated rather than simply

vengeful, it was about political shaping, influencing and above all coercing: coercion because it is

the ‘strategy of the weak’ who are unable to strategically compel (Fromkin, 1975, p. 686).

Recent research supports this notion with the finding that weaker groups are relatively more

violent than stronger: violence is a measure of weakness (R. M. Wood, p. 612). A crucial related

idea was that terrorism is violence by the politically weak to shift the opinion of own

constituencies rather than influence states directly (Crenshaw, 2008/1998, p. 26), growing

support through the indirect application of violence. The support thus gained would either

operate at the ballot box or, more often, enable a larger and protracted struggle in which the lever

is cost. Thornton’s (1964, p. 74) ideas of cost-infliction have matured into:

The terrorist seeks to deprive the enemy of things which he holds dear, not necessarily in terms of material resources, but those more elusive aspects of life such as a relatively peaceful, stable and law abiding society’ . Terrorists seek to pose the question; ‘is it worth paying the price to maintain the present situation?’ intending to raise this ‘price’ to a level whereby the opponent returns to re-examine the notion of vital interest (Neumann and Smith, 2005, p. 576).

Explanation

Insurgency is conceived as a system of flows

(boxes). It is fed either by internal support

resources (small pink box ‐ endogeny) or

external support resources (yellow box ‐

exogeny). These resources are the Inputs

(green box) to a Conversion Mechanism (gray

box) that produces Outputs (big pink box).

These are activities, including violent acts,

which are directed against Authority (blue

box), but also influence internal support.

(adapted from Leites and Wolf 1970)


This idea of ‘cost’ is applicable to ACV at all levels. It is an attritional strategy that

‘taxes’ (McCauley, 2002, p. 16) or imposes enormous psychological and economic costs (2005,

p. 576) that cannot be borne indefinitely; insurgents win by not losing. Support is the vital

enabler for that continued struggle.

Figure 3: McCormick's Model of Terrorist Influence

Because of the US defeat in Vietnam, there was reduced interest in countering

insurgency and ‘supply side’ coercive approaches were largely discredited (Shultz, 1978, p. 109),

although they are occasionally commended by robust approach advocates such as Marlowe

(2011). From the 1980’s, most remaining researchers in the field adopted ‘demand side’

approaches. Many built on Galula’s (1964) precepts to portray insurgency as a struggle for

support between opposing parties at each extreme of a spectrum with neutrality in the middle.

Figure 4 shows the model attributed to McCormick, (Lake, 2002, p. 2) where insurgency is a

struggle for the allegiance of an uncommitted 80% of the population, with 10% committed to

Red and Blue respectively.

Figure 4: McCormick’s Model of Support Influence

1) Physical Target

3) Message received by Audiences

2) Media Processes

4) Target of Influence responds

Resonant Mass Identification Group

Explanation

Consider a Red attack against a physical target (or victim), box 1 a Blue soldier. He is part

of an identification group, of Blue military personnel, shown with a dotted boundary.

(The identification group may also be part of the influence target, or resonant mass, in

this case the Blue constituency, shown by a dashed boundary). The media then report

on this 2, to generate a message 3. The message of the violent act is received by the

target of influence, the Blue constituency who may react in the desired way.


Petersen (2006, pp. 145-146) developed the idea with a model that ranked levels of resistance as

shown in Figure 5. His model specifies that +1 is minor acts of resistance, +2 is part-time

membership or support of insurgency, and +3 is membership of the insurgent force.

Figure 5: Petersen’s Model of Levels of Resistance

Moore’s (2008, p. 35) model was closer to McCormick’s but he described the span of

loyalties in terms of active and passive support (Figure 6). These linear diagrams are illustrative

of a widespread assumption that the natural alternatives are neutrality or support for Red or Blue.

Only a few writers like Kalyvas (2006) from the sub-field of civil war seemed to examine more

complex preferences or fierce opposition to both parties.

Figure 6: Moore’s Model of Support Shifts

Conceptually richer influence diagrams such as Coyle’s (1985, p. 72) in Figure 7, used

systems analysis approaches to explore complex processes in insurgency, now increasingly

linked to computer based analysis. This model proposed the interactions of the primary

mechanisms of insurgent victory and is perhaps representative of 1980’s theory. It infers central

importance of popular support, shows military response acting directly on insurgent strength and

indirectly on the ‘compulsion’ that aids insurgent recruitment, but fails to show military response

impacting the population.


Figure 7: Coyle’s Influence Diagram Model of Mechanisms of Insurgent Victory

Over the subsequent decades, the importance of support has remained largely

unchallenged, albeit that different schools of counterinsurgency dispute the feasibility and means

of influence. In contemporary conflict, Blue domestic constituencies remain decisive yet often

overlooked (D. M. Jones & Smith, 2010, p. 116), however in light of the lessons learned in Iraq

and Afghanistan, a ‘primary role of conviction, legitimacy and social support’ (Ivan Arreguín-

Toft, 2006, p. 143) for Red is widely recognised. Bock explains it thus:

The convictions of people constitute the strength of a social movement. And besides its horrific violent aspects, terrorism is a social movement intended to achieve social or political change ... No matter what they aim for ..., every such intention needs broad (public) support ... without which no aims can be reached and terrorism loses its major threat potential (Bock, 2009, p. 3).

ACV can therefore be understood as a struggle of legitimacies for the support, or at least

the neutrality of the people (R. S. Lewis & Metzger, 2009; Lomperis, 1996). A RAND

corporation report can now open by citing Gompert; ‘in counterinsurgency the population is not

only the field of battle but the prize’ (Grey, 2009, p. p1).

2.1.2 Robust Action and the Puzzle of Asymmetric Conflict

Evidence about the operation of robust action is found in studies of asymmetric conflicts.

Since Thucydides, ‘classical realism theory has asserted that the stronger power should almost

always win an asymmetric conflict ‘(Teklu, 2002, p. 77). But whilst this was true until the 19th

century, the pattern is changing and materially weaker actors now win almost half of all conflicts

wars (Ivan Arreguín-Toft, 2005a, p. 97), a puzzle that a series of scholars have tackled. But this

does not tell us enough given that:

… most conquests of the Western colonial nations were happening in conditions that should be called asymmetric … (but this) … did not prevent expeditionary forces from fighting successfully and from coming back home covered in glory (Baeriswyl, 2008 2.2).

Explanation

The influence diagram shows insurgency as

a system of three loops: persuasion,

compulsion and logistic. The core is the

population supporting the insurgents, fed

by the ‘transfer rate’ a product of political

effort and the capacity flowing from

strength. The Blue attempts to influence

insurgency are ‘military response’, ‘supply

control efforts’ and ‘anti‐subversion’


Mack (1975, pp. 184, 199) argued that Red prevail because they have greater will to

bear the cost and sacrifice; for them the war is total, for Blue it is limited, creating a structural

vulnerability to erosion of their political will to keep fighting. Initially this reality is not apparent

to Blue who are typically overconfident, buoyed by patriotism and do not invest necessary

military resources and political capital (2005a, p. 13). Eventually the material and moral costs of

a non-vital war generate opposition at home which becomes the key to Red victory (Record,

2007a, pp. 2-7). Insurgency is therefore often not just a political struggle in the Red constituency,

but two contests, with another in the Blue constituency. For Red, eroding the Blue

constituency’s political will to resist is potentially decisive, and for Blue vice versa.

Shifting support may be more important than military victory. The costs of a successful

war may still drive Blue constituencies away from the state, as happened when Algeria gained

independence from France just after the military defeat of the FLN. Alternatively, Blue victory

may generate support for Red as shown by the renaissance of the PLO after its evacuation from

Beirut following the Israeli invasion in 1982. Even states may wage war in expectation of

military defeat but political gain and this is more relevant to insurgency (T. V. Paul, 1994, pp.

173-175). The political gain may be indirect: even if al Qaeda is eventually destroyed, post 9/11

events have clearly shifted median Muslim opinion towards the conservative position.

There is a longstanding argument that terrorism is ineffective against totalitarian regimes

(B. M. Jenkins, 1981, p. 4) and is more successful and, therefore, prevalent within democracies

(Eubank & Weinberg, 1994 abst.; Pape, 2003, p. 343). Merom (p. 15) suggested ‘democracies

fail in small wars because they find it extremely difficult to escalate the level of violence and

brutality to that which can secure victory’, whilst Kydd and Walters (2006, p. 79) expand on

democracy’s vulnerability to coercion. This ‘democratic weakness’ argument and its implication

that robust means are effective were refuted by examples of the defeat of brutal authoritarian

states (and the success of brutal democracies) as well as by methodological challenges to the

studies (Ivan Arreguín-Toft, 2005b, p. 105; Blechman, 2004, p. 185; Norton, 2004). Abrahms

(2007, p. 223) went further to argue democracies make better counterinsurgents:

… and liberal countries are substantially less likely to make policy concessions to terrorists, particularly on issues of maximal importance.... … are comparatively resistant to coercion—their commitment to civil liberties and low civilian cost tolerance are, in the aggregate, actually strategic assets that help democracies prevail in counterterrorist campaigns (2007, p. 223).

This view infers that reluctance to use robust actions confers advantage and is consistent

with Li’s (2005, pp. 279, 294) argument that politically responsive democracies neutralise

grievances, and therefore terrorism, better.

Merom’s theories are important to this thesis because he showed the dynamic

interactions of ACV and politics (Kaarbo, 2004, p. 503) and State ‘instrumental dependence’ on

the Blue constituency (Merom, p. 15). Record said, all ‘wars must be sold to populations as


wars of necessity’ (2007a, p. 7). If this ‘necessity’ appears questionable, a normative difference

opens up between government and the elite opinion formers of the state, which may be

exacerbated by attempts to suppress dissent or frame it as disloyal (Anonymous, 2004; Quiggin,

2004). This might be labelled a ‘latent shift’, a potential loss of support waiting for a trigger that

destroys trust in the government’s messages, along the lines of US opinion after the 1968 Tet

offensive or the 2006 Abu Ghraib scandal.

Arreguín-Toft’s work (1998, 2005a) addressed an issue central to this thesis; when and

how do barbaric methods lead to victory? His strategic–interaction theory proposed that

adversaries can choose from four strategies. Direct conventional offensive or defensive

operations attack the opponent’s military capability. Indirect operations attack the will of the

opponent: either offensive barbarism to attack the civil population or defensive guerrilla warfare

to produce sufficient casualties to raise costs to an unacceptable level. Where direct strategies are

used by both parties, the stronger is likely to win, where the strategies differ, the weaker

succeeds. ‘The causal mechanism is time: opposite approach conflicts last longer and allow

strong state will to decline’ (Teklu, 2002, p. 78). The theory has strong empirical support (Geis,

2007, p. 169) and DiPaulo (2005) extended it to smaller scale conflict. Crucially, he proposes

barbarism by Blue is associated with successful repression of a Red guerrilla defence but not

defeat of Red conventional defence. This suggests that Red counter-mobilisation may be more

driven by context of the action than the action itself, but the mechanism is not further explained.

All cultures have normative rules for violent combat (Eibl-Eibesfeldt, 1979, p. 240) and

Western paradigms can be traced through classical (Cicero, 1913 Section XI), mediaeval and

renaissance (Grotius, 1625 part I) practice into rules and then laws of war that judge conflict

legitimate only if waged conventionally between states (Hanson, 2009, p. xv). A Western

military philosophical focus on less likely but potentially existential threats from other states,

combines with efforts to keep the military apolitical (Valeriano & Bohannan, 1962), to drive a

self-righteous (Record, 2007a, p. 128) Conventional Army Culture (CAC) that conceives war as

a struggle of capabilities (Baeriswyl, 2008 para 2.1) not political will, that is ‘about killing rather

than more effective but potentially less heroic tasks’ (Record, 2007a, p. 128). Unsurprisingly,

Western forces perform better in conflicts with conventional, transparent military objectives

amenable to brute force than where more ‘political’ objectives require military coercion to

impose some degree of target compliance (Sullivan, 2007, p. 496).

The ethnocentric (Liang & Xiangsui, 2002) CAC tends to treat stealth, deception and

subterfuge as morally illegitimate or irrational, which demonises insurgents and so drives robust

measures. Associated retributive strategies and the Blue delegitimation of Red political

objectives and community movements may tend to induce constituents to conclude rebellions are

the only option for redress. Perhaps assumptions of moral superiority by Blue actually

communicate illegitimacy?


Lomperis (1996, p. 442) extends the argument: ‘popular insurgencies are manifestations

of crises in political legitimacy’ and intervention succeeds or fails according to how it affects that

crisis. This seems to connect to one factor in the asymmetric puzzle, an explosion of successful

anti-colonial liberation movements after WW2. This was triggered by eroded perceptions of

colonial invincibility and a growing sense of its illegitimacy (ironically fostered by the US as

well as the USSR). This factor is the rationale for Fearon and Laitin (2003, p. 77) and then Libiki

(2008, p. 373) beginning their studies of asymmetric conflicts at this moment in time. It seems

possible that shifts in the perceived legitimacy of colonialism itself were accompanied by

changed views about the acceptability of the robust means used to impose and maintain it.

Presumably Red victim responses to being brutally treated did not change greatly, so it is to shifts

in the willingness of Blue constituencies to underwrite robust methods that we must look.

Record (2007a) provides an important synthesis of the preceding research. He joins

other researchers (C. Paul et al., 2010b summary) to conclude there is ‘no convincing single–

factor explanation’ (Record, 2007a, p. xii), but suggests four interlinked factors explain weaker

side victories. Three are mentioned above: ‘superior will, strategy and democratic vulnerability’,

to which he adds his own argument that, in almost all asymmetric conflicts, success was

‘associated with foreign support’.

The research on asymmetric conflict described above particularly suggests further

investigation of two issues:

How does robust Blue action impinge upon the will of both Red and Blue to fight?

What is occurring when brutal measures are associated with success against guerrilla

warfare?

2.1.3 Efficacy and Outcomes of Coercive Violence

Another body of research contests the efficacy of ACV or considers its end. Many

commentators argue that terrorism is rarely successful, though few go as far as Caleb Carr,

critically cited by Mahan and Griset (2008, p. 44) as saying ‘warfare against civilians …has been

one of the ultimately most self-defeating tactics in all military history’. Such judgements depend

on perceptions of success. For example, Robbins (2002, p. 354) superficially reasonable view

that Bin Laden had been totally defeated in Afghanistan is less clear cut in the light of the

continued ‘Taliban’ insurgency.

Abrahms (2006, 2007) investigated whether terrorism succeeds, coming to the

conclusion that it usually does not and suggesting that the targeting of civilians transmits a

subliminal ‘maximalist’ message of existential threat that obscures real demands and prevents

bargaining processes occurring’ (Abrahms, 2006, p. 57). Regardless of whether this explanation

is correct, he highlights an implied mechanism of emotion closing down reason which is highly

relevant. Sheppard & Ebrary argue that there is ‘growing evidence that terrorism is not an


effective tool to achieve political objectives’ (2009, p. 11) and that views that it ‘works’ are based

on theoretical models and selective use of case studies, such as Pape’s (2003, p. 343) which

argues that suicide terrorism ‘pays’. A RAND report on insurgency endings correlates the use of

terrorism with loss of support and failure (Connable & Libicki, 2010, p. xii). However, whilst

total success is rare there is similar evidence of shifts towards political goals.

Gould and Klor (2009, p. 33) showed an association between Palestinian violence and a

favourable shift in the Israeli political landscape, whilst Riesen (2006, pp. 139,144) showed a

correlation between international ACV ‘terrorist’ incidents and insurgent-desired changes in

foreign policy behaviour. A slightly different approach by Rosenthal (2006, pp. 3, 319, 353, 434)

used expected utility theory to analyse the rationality of using terrorism. Her finding that finding

‘neither extreme measures such as deterrence nor accommodations address terrorism in the long

run’ is in line with much other work and, equally usefully for this thesis, she points out its role in

‘decreasing public support for robust action after failure of such action’.

A different approach to understanding ACV is to look at how it ends. Gupta (2008, p.

89) says the death of movements comes from: political goals being no longer relevant, joining a

political process, achieving goals or (and associated with robust measures) ‘military defeat

especially if small or dependent on a charismatic leader’. This reminds us that robust measures

may work, but Jones and Libicki’s (2008, pp. xiii, 19) examination of 648 terrorist groups from

1968 to 2006 found military force only ended 7% of conflicts. Cronin (2009) also considered

termination and categorised and analysed six possible outcomes for ACV campaigns. For this

thesis there are two findings of particular importance. Firstly, she is unequivocal about the role

of counterproductive response: ‘attacks can be designed to provoke overreaction and thus gain

adherents, repulsed by the states’ response... state overreaction is at the core of terrorist

efficacy’. Secondly she tells us what causes success and failure. Insurgency success is associated

with two conditions: state overreaction and a ‘group capable of capturing the imagination of a

broad audience to mobilise popular support and strength’ (Cronin, pp. 79, 93,119). Insurgency

failure is primarily associated with loss of contact with a constituency driven by excessive

behaviour which alienates constituencies: in either case the mechanism is ‘reactance’.

This small set of representative literature demonstrates Kilcullen’s (2009, p. 183) point

that nothing is clear cut in ACV. Blue robust action often has significant negative impact and

rarely offers a decisive solution, whilst the targeting of civilians may also be counterproductive

for Red.


Section Deductions

This section has examined popular support, drawn insights from asymmetric conflicts

and looked at ACV outcomes; some broad conclusions can be drawn.

Successful ACV for Red involves taking a long term view, inflicting sustained cost and

enduring beyond the will of Blue (Lake, 2002, p. 15). The author follows Mack (1975, p. 184),

Sullivan (2007, p. 496) and others to understand ACV as fundamentally political.14 There are

two complementary strategic methods: a ‘resistance growth method’ that builds capability and a

‘political cost-coercion method’ that exerts influence. Since Red does not have the military

forces to compel change, they cost-coerce Blue using military, economic and political harm15 as a

lever. Red must also grow capability and popular motivation, via a ‘legitimate’ idea that captures

the imagination of the red constituency, which is a critical enabler of insurgent growth and

success. The ‘resistance growth method’ applies violence to support this. Blue robust action

may provide this countermobilisation, but Arreguín-Toft’s (2003, p. 3) work shows that this

depends on context more than the actions and is only half the story.

There are at least two parallel political struggles and constituency audiences. Blue can

only prevail by demobilising Red support and maintaining its own. Red must sustain its own

support, often helped by countermobilisation effects of Blue action, but usually can only prevail

if it can induce desertion by the Blue. Events and policies operate very differently on different

audiences but a successful pattern for red is discernable.

Early in a conflict the Blue motivation to crush Red surges, driven by self-righteousness,

constituency overconfidence and misconceptions that insurgents represent existential threats.

Robust measures are used. However if Blue does not wait for sustained public demand for harsh

measures or they are perceived to fail, normative differences open up within Blue constituencies.

Suppression of such constituency dissent and/or recognition that the conflict is not vital

exacerbates this and revelations of military failure or breaches of moral norms may have

particular impact. The consequence is that Blue begins to shift its political objectives, although it

will seek to obscure this.

What is absolutely clear from the literature thus far is that maintaining popular support

for insurgents in red constituencies can be critical to sustaining an insurgency and loss of

constituency support can equally be decisive for either insurgents or a democratic government.

14 In the sense of influencing 15 Which can be aggregated into the notion of ‘political cost’ within an analytic model.


2.2 SECTION B: INDUCING ROBUST STATE ACTION

... his primary objective is not battle. It is to bring down upon the community in general a reprisal for his wrongs, in the hope that the fury and resentment aroused by punishment meted out to the innocent will gradually swell the ranks of those from whom he will draw further recruits (Durrell, 1956, p. 216).

This section asks the broad question: how important is ‘provocation’ or induction of

robust state action?

It explains how induced reactive violence or ‘provocation’ delivers political effects. It

begins with an adversary perspective of provocation, describes the development of related theory

and explains the terminology challenge.

2.2.1 Adversary Understanding of Reactive Violence

ACV can be understood as a political strategy to change state policy by influencing

constituencies with violence; the Blue constituency is forced to bear costs and the Red

constituency is induced to provide support. Blue robust actions are a potential lever for building

such support. Adversary perspectives can tell us much about the scope for Red of inducing Blue

violence against its own constituency.

The revolutionary left were commonly believed to advocate terrorism to provoke

overreaction. This view argues that Mao commended terror against landlords; Sergei Nechayev

and the Narodonya Volya movement were practitioners of provocation whilst Guevara and

Marighella advocated it to create revolutionary conditions (Crenshaw, 2008/1998, p. 30; 2009, p.

118; Johnson, 1973, p. 88; Richardson, 2006, p. 102). However, this understanding conflicts

with communist doctrine that indiscriminate forms of violence damage vital legitimacy

(Crenshaw, 2008/1998, p. 26; Guevara, 1961a; Mao, 1966). Closer examination reveals a tone

that is often equivocal and cautious. What the revolutionaries meant by ‘terrorism’ is not what

we mean by ‘terrorism’. Nechayev (1896, No 17) refers merely to sparing the worst oppressors

because they generate opposition. Marighella’s supposed ‘terrorism’ is sabotage and arson whilst

his espousal of provocation is exaggerated and no more specific than ‘forcing the military to

oppress’ (Berry, 1987, p. 8; Cobane, 2003, p. 54; Marigella, 1971, pp. 61-79, 113; Marighella,

1969, pp. 28, 36, 113). Certainly the Latin American revolutionaries saw the reaction of the state

as an engine of the revolt but not via careless provocation: balance was essential (Moriarty, 2010,

p. 488). Guevara was clear that the targets were the military and police: too great a reaction was

harmful and that Giap’s ‘exemplary conduct’ was the guide (Garthoff, 1962, p. 573; 1961b, p. 15;

T. P. Thornton, 1964, p. 54).

Recent translations and analyses of al Qaeda and Associated Movements (AQAM)

documentation show that thinkers such as Abu Ubayd al-Qurashi have not just a good

understanding of Western strategic thought, but analyse possible US responses and even US

analysis of AQAM in turn (Abu-Bakr-Naji, 2006, p. 34 orig.; Stout, Huckabey, & Schindler, p.


77). Similarly, Bin Laden’s ‘Winds of Revolution’ is a competent analysis of revolutionary war

theory that understands reaction as central (Stout et al., p. 124). The Iranian conduct of proxy-

warfare against Israel via Hezbollah and the latter’s triggering of the counterproductive 2006

invasion of Lebanon is an unambiguous instance of (possibly miscalculated) provocation

(Catignani, 2006, p. 1; Zimmermann, 2004, p. 7).

Ironically, many western analysts assumed the intention to provoke by communists who

were actually very wary of the tactic, whilst the embrace of provocation by radical Muslim

Takfiri16 is rarely examined: the explicit AQAM intention to induce a protracted insurgency in

Afghanistan is largely ignored (Abu-Bakr-Naji, 2006, p. 34 orig.).

2.2.2 Developing Theories of Provocation

Provocation is not only recognised by theorists as one of several important functions of

Red violence in ACV, its calculated application connects to the others. As an example, Cronin

(2009) identifies three further functions: cost, mobilisation and polarisation (p. 118). Cost is the

political and psychological lever discussed above (Mack, 1975, p. 185). Mobilisation is intended

to recruit, rally, invigorate and energise the masses, whereas polarisation is designed to destroy

the political middle ground and scope for compromise. Kuperman (2006, p. 2) divides Cost into

Exhaustion which maximises impact over time and Protraction which applies a lower level of

violence to avoid inducing a strong reaction from the state. This infers a very deliberate Red

variation in violence to control levels of Blue response. Similarly polarisation is closely linked to

the function of psychological disorientation that some theorists argue causes constituencies to

shift support. Disorientation is especially reinforced by Blue overreactions (T. P. Thornton,

1964, p. 54).

A role for induced violence is inferred in Crozier’s (1960) model of insurrection where

Terrorism was the first stage before Guerrilla and Conventional War, and the Blue response to

terrorism was assumed to be repression that would generate support (p. 127). T.P. Thornton’s

(1964) seminal theory developed the notion that ‘terrorism is (psychologically) most effective

when apparently indiscriminate but actually highly discriminate’ (1964, pp. 54, 49). Fromkin

then defined terrorism as the strategy of inducing response, observing ‘it wins only if you respond

to it in the way that terrorists want you to’ (1975, p. 683). Terrorism is:

... a sort of ju-jitsu which used the strength of the opponent in three ways. First it induced the strength of the opponent to expend cost, secondly it induced the strength of the state as a lever of persuasion (either by changing the nature of the state or by unmasking its true nature), thirdly it used the strength of the state to emphasise its impotence (p. 688).

Price (1977) took up Thornton’s concept but extended it to state actions and reversed the

discrimination proposition, arguing that to deter ‘terror must appear discriminatory in punishing

16 One who disobeys the Prophet Muhammed’s (PBOH) injunction not to use compulsion in religion. Used in preference to ‘Salafist’, ‘Islamist’ or ‘Jihadist’ labels which have positive connotations (Kilcullen, 2009)


collaborators even if actually not’ (1977, p. 55). This draws our attention to distinguishing

between actual and perceived discrimination when analysing ACV.

Military writers were alert to the consequences of reaction to provocation. Galula (1964,

p. 4) believed the ‘response necessary to eliminate the insurgency is likely to be seen as excessive

by the general population’ and was alert to the threat to ‘the state's legitimacy and moral

authority’. Trinquier (1964) was again sanguine:

Certain harsh actions can easily pass for brutalities in the eyes of a sensitive public … the people will be manhandled, lined up, interrogated, searched ... the inhabitants will suffer ... People who know our adversaries will not protest in submitting to inconveniences they know to be necessary for the recovery of their liberty ( part 7).

Such views were probably over-optimistic; it is difficult to envisage any group that were

not already loyal to Blue being so understanding. Writing after observing these methods being

applied in Vietnam and other insurgencies, Taber wrote:

... to try to suppress popular resistance movements by force is futile. If inadequate force is applied, the resistance grows. If the overwhelming force necessary to accomplish the task is applied, its object is destroyed. It is a case of shooting the horse because he refuses to pull the cart (1970, p. 177).

It is evident that the issues of provocation and overreaction were recognised from the

start of the scholarship of terrorism and counterinsurgency. It is however telling that Kitson

(1971) writing a military ‘textbook’ with these dissonant views to hand, did not seriously address

reactive effects or engage issues surrounding legitimacy, despite its centrality to the works of his

opponents. Perhaps his personal involvement in the ‘successful’ brutal suppression of the Mau-

Mau in Kenya coloured his thinking, or perhaps he genuinely believed that British soldiers were

incapable of the more blatant excesses of the French in Indochina or Algeria. Certainly he failed

to highlight the counterproductive potential of lesser misdeeds such as the Bloody Sunday

incident in Northern Ireland which was to occur shortly afterwards.

The scholarship that includes provocation as a core function has continued to grow

although Neumann and Smith (2008, p. 54) followed Richardson and relabelled it ‘target

response’ (Crenshaw, 2007, p. 21; Hoffman, 1998, pp. 183-184; Kruglanski, 2003, pp. 7,13;

Kydd & Walter, 2006, p. 51; Merari, 1993, pp. 13-17; Smith & Thomas, 1989, p. 34). From this

representative selection, it is absolutely clear that the role of response is significant in the view of

most theorists and arguably ‘at the core of ACV efficacy’ (Cronin, 2009, p. 119) and formal

models support this view (Mesquita & Dickson, 2007, p. 377). However, the details of

inappropriate response gain little more attention today than it did from Kitson and there are

possible explanations for this in the terminology used.

2.2.3 Provocation, Reaction and Reverberation

The label used to describe the concept of induced counter-productive response that this

thesis explores is important. ‘Provocation’ was used by Fromkin (1975, p. 683) to define


terrorism and is used by many others Merari (1993, p. 220), but the term is problematical. It does

not just indicate reaction but implies intention to gain that reaction and infers some consequent

responsibility, which may not be appropriate. Richardson (2006) argues:

... it appears terrorists rarely have a coherent idea of what kinds of reaction they will get ... it is perfectly possible that he (Bin Laden) was simply trying to provoke any reaction and either withdrawal or repression, capitulation or crusade served his purpose ... any reaction may give equal pleasure (pp. 129-131).

There are political implications and analytic difficulties if deliberate provocation is

emphasised, regardless of the validity of the proposition. Since the object of provocation is

ultimately to generate sympathy, an overt intention to provoke runs the risk of reducing that

sympathy, consequently if an insurgent organisation does intend to provoke, it has very good

reasons to conceal this (Krueger, 2007, p. 132). Less obviously, state actors also have a motive

to retrospectively avoid classification of an incident as successful provocation, as it

acknowledges misjudgement (L. Huddy, Feldman, Taber, & Lahav, 2005, p. 594). These

pressures from ‘both sides’ mean operationalising any empirical assessment of provocation is

difficult.

Perspective will also affect labelling. Hezbollah fighters, firing rockets into Israel from

civilian areas, may consider that their primary purpose is the direct attack of illegal settlements

which they wish to drive out, and the Israeli’s counter bombardment an operational ‘choice’. The

Israelis undoubtedly consider the rockets to be provocation.

This drives the question of whether the Latin American revolutionaries mentioned above

were intending to ‘provoke’ authorities or simply anticipating that their ‘legitimate resistance’

would ‘unmask’ the oppressor. There is a subtle difference of intent and perceived culpability

between a function of response and one of provocation. Schmid et al (1988 [1984], p. 84) infer

that if the insurgent acknowledges that a reaction is likely, this makes no difference: the insurgent

is culpable. However this thesis is concerned with countermobilisation and desertion reactions

driven by perceptions, so insurgent intent is only relevant if it is so blatantly provocative that it

weakens potential sympathy in a constituency. In many cases, the insurgent’s purpose may

actually be expressive rather than instrumental; they may often simply attack as an act of redress

for perceived wrongs. It can become increasingly difficult to determine what is reaction and

what is instigation, as Gupta’s description of ‘State Provocation’ highlights: ‘When the

‘authorities’ engage in activities seen as grossly unjust, disproportionate or immoral, ‘they only

provoke ‘further violence by the groups’ (2008, p. 145). These ambiguities are quite apart from

discussion of the strategic merits of provocation which Crenshaw (2008/1998, p. 30) describes as

‘problematic’. These difficulties amount to a reason to be wary of the use of the term

‘provocation’, and in some circumstances use of a different new term is warranted. The

criminologists Lafree, Dugan, & Korte (2009) used ‘backlash’, whilst the US Intelligence

community uses the term ‘blowback’ (Bergen & Reynolds, 2005) and the peace studies


community favours ‘backfire’ (B. Martin, 2004). All of these avoid the inference of insurgent

intent but are still loaded against the state actor. This is the reason this thesis offers the neutral

notion of ‘reverberation’ introduced in Chapter 1.

2.2.4 Summary

This section has given an adversary perspective of provocation, examined it in relation to

other functions of violence in the ACV process, shown the emergence of the concept of state

response and offered a new term. It is evident that the processes of response, provocation and

reverberation are recognised as significant in the literature (Neumann & Smith, 2008, p. 30;

Richardson, 2006 cover). We can now look at the way state processes influence support for

insurgents.

2.3 SECTION C: STATE RESPONSES TO ACV

Terror is intended to cause the target to act in a specific way ... government or social ‘over’, ‘under’ or ‘pointed’ reaction is the end goal of the strategy (Smith & Thomas, 1989, p. 31). This section asks: what are the prescriptions for state response to ACV and what

evidence supports different arguments?

The case for both robust and restrained approaches is stated, different types of mis-

responses are defined and then representative qualitative and quantitative analyses are reviewed.

The previous section established the role of induced counter-productive response and related it to

support. It is nevertheless a puzzle that states often provide the very response that ‘makes ACV

efficacious’ (Berry, 1987, p. 17). Government response is arguably the most important and

logically the most controllable factor in insurgency outcomes (O'Neill, 1990, pp. 156-162).

However, most examination of the state response is recent, with only a relatively small group of

academics17 making sustained examinations of the role of state countermeasures in sustaining

conflicts, with almost all advocating restraint.

2.3.1 State Response to ACV: Theory, Views and Prescriptions

Prescriptions for state response to ACV fall along a strategy spectrum between

annihilation and inaction, but most literature can be placed into the ‘robust’ or ‘restrained’ camps,

despite varied labels and inferences (Miller, 2007, p. 333; C. D. Moore, 2008, p. 36; Munroe,

2008, p. 2).

17 Small in relation to the vast range of publications; particularly Silke, Parker, Jackson, Mueller and Duyvestvyn.


The Robust View

The robust view assumes that retaliation will create a reputation for punishment and

deter, whilst failure to respond aggressively or allowing concessions will encourage adversaries.

Unsurprisingly, supporters of this view often reflect a political agenda or military perspective, for

example, this is frequently encountered amongst those partisan to Israel or the USA or concerned

with Soviet-sponsored ACV (Livingstone, 1986, pp. iix-x; Netanyahu, 2001, p. xxiii; Trapp,

1994, p. 2). Some clearly accept harm to the innocent or argue that 9/11 and terrorism is a result

of ‘appeasement and legitimisation of terrorism’ (Dershowitz, 2002, p. 3; Ra'anan, Pfaltzgraf,

Schultz, Halperin, & Lukes, 1986, p. 7).

Military practitioner-theoreticians of COIN often make the robust argument more

dispassionately. Trinquier saw ‘terrorism’ as an essential characteristic of the insurgencies that

he called ‘modern warfare’ and explicitly advocated the use of torture. This is an approach

which was militarily vindicated by the French crushing of the FLN in Algiers but which equally

proved politically disastrous in alienating both Algerian and domestic French populations.

Trinquier was unusually free of rancour in his understanding of his enemies:

The terrorist should not be considered an ordinary criminal. Actually, he fights within the framework of his organization, without personal interest, for a cause he considers noble and for a respectable ideal, the same as the soldiers in the armies confronting him. On the command of his superiors, he kills without hatred individuals unknown to him, with the same indifference as the soldier on the battlefield. His victims are often women and children, almost always defenceless individuals taken by surprise. But during a period of history when the bombing of open cities is permitted, and when two Japanese cities were razed to hasten the end of the war in the Pacific, one cannot with good cause reproach him (Trinqier, 1964 pt. 4).

In Britain, Kitson’s (1971), ‘Low Intensity Conflict’ became a guide for Officers serving

in Northern Ireland. Whilst open to using ‘good deeds’ to persuade, (p79) and eschewing the

blatant French brutality, he believed intimidation of constituencies was essential (p 90); a lesson

he drew from fighting insurgents in Malaya and Kenya. The British Army’s comfort with

policing roles, avoidance of ritual antagonism and commitment to proportionality has been

favourably compared with the US CAC culture (D. M. Jones & Smith, 2010). This should not be

mistaken for any reluctance to kill or apply exemplary violence whenever justification was

offered, as was manifest during the suppression of the Mau-Mau (H. Bennett, 2007, p. 638).

The academic case for a robust approach is made using cases including the American

success in quelling insurgency in the Philippines and harsh military policies that helped the

Uruguayan government defeat the Tupamaros, Argentina crush the Monteneros and India

suppress the Sikh separatists. Conversely, it cites Japan’s lack of oversight of Aum Shinrikyo,

and French reluctance to close the border to Basque separatists as encouraging terrorism

(Latimer, 2004, p. v). The recent Sri Lankan government defeat of the Tamil Tigers represents


an apparently strong argument for a robust military approach that assumed ‘no ceasefire, no

negotiations, no compromise’ and ignored the international community (Shashikumar, 2009).

Case studies of conflicts where robust measures appear to have defeated insurgencies,

however, do not typically tell us enough about how this was achieved, for example, Latimer’s

(2004) study of Indian counterterrorism. The lack of supporting empirical material from a broad

sample of contexts has long seen the arguments for robust approaches labelled ‘rhetoric without

real analysis’ (Wardlaw, 1987, p. 250).

The Restrained View

Opponents of the robust view contend that it not only fails to deter but increases

opposition (Frey, 2004, p. ix) and leads to cycles of violence, a counterproductive effect evident

since the Jewish revolt against the Romans (2008, p. 87) and repeatedly has turned the peaceful

to violence (2007, p. 660). The argument is that repression delegitimizes the state by ‘breaking

the democratic contract’ whilst legitimising violent response by insurgents in the eyes of their

constituency and also encouraging ‘secondary deviation by insurgents: an even stronger

commitment to violent action’ (Noricks, 2009, p. 21). This may be tied to re-phrasing Fromkin’s

(1975) definition of ‘terrorism’ to become ‘an act intended to get a reaction from the

government’ (Kydd & Walter, 2006, p. 50; Neumann & Smith, 2005, p. 580).

Arreguín-Toft (2006 part 7) argues a range of studies show robust actions stimulate

resistance, compared to measured and discriminate responses. Typically cited in these studies are

cases of ‘alleged’ overreaction such as the Israeli invasion of Lebanon in 1982 or the British

response to the IRA in Northern Ireland. These instances are juxtaposed with the positive results

of a social model such as the British experience in Malaya (often overlooking the use of forced

evacuation and concentration camps) or the Canadian government’s success against separatist

terrorism in Quebec. There are many articles with this clear thrust (Blackbourn, 2009; Bock,

2009; Duyvesteyn, 2008; John Mueller, 2005a; Parker, 2007; Silke, 2005). Many on other

topics, often remark on the ‘problems of governments overreacting to terrorism with policies

later heavily criticized’ (Josiger, 2006, p. 22). Those building military doctrine now counsel

Blue rectitude for pragmatic as well as moral reasons; it reduces Blue casualties by encouraging

Red to surrender and not increasing recruitment, it increases vital intelligence flows and it avoids

generating negative media that encourages external support (Joes, 2004, p. 165).

The restrained view follows two strategic sub-approaches, notwithstanding prescriptive

variation. On the left of politics, and after sustained exposure to ACV, one finds the

‘accommodative’ approach which seeks to negotiate with the insurgents, and failing this to erode

their support base by addressing root causes of the conflict. Chomsky’s writing from his analysis

of terrorism thirty years ago (1988) to his critique of contemporary US policy (Chomsky, Achcar,

& Shalom, 2007) takes this line. The other main approach is described as ‘passive’, ‘policing’ or


‘rule of law’ where ACV is dealt with as far as possible by normal, albeit augmented, methods of

law and order. Advocates include Wardlaw (1982 cover) and Wilkinson (1986 intro.; 2001, pp.

126, 218). The restrained view should not be confused with passivity, and is entirely consistent

with proactive deradicalisation and delegitimation strategies of the kind now being applied by

Indonesia and Malaysia and Singapore (Andrew T. H. Tan, 2011, pp. 220-230).

The difficulty in judging between views of the response, or indeed taking a binary view,

is that the historical record is ambiguous; there are cases and anecdotal evidence to support both

sides of this debate. Indeed, some cases can be applied to support both arguments. Different

periods of the Vietnam War can be cited as an example of the failures of both types of approach

and Henkin (2006, p. 57) cites the case of Israel’s 2000 withdrawal from Lebanon (the 1982

occupation of which is generally considered to have been strategically counterproductive) as

encouraging subsequent terrorism. Selective identification of independent variables is an

obvious risk; the defeat of the insurgency in El Salvador is often attributed to a US supported

programme that included robust measures, but Peceny (2010, p. 67) has shown that the loss of

Soviet support and other domestic political issues were the decisive factors. One of the reasons

for interpretational difficulty is that the state and insurgent behaviour changes as a result of

learning and other factors, whilst multiple strategies may be tried concurrently. Furthermore,

insurgent motivations do not always easily fit one category and time-scales skew results: short-

term liabilities may prove long-term benefits (C. D. Moore, 2008, p. 400). Moore’s research also

illustrates that government intended policies are not necessarily reflected on the ground (2008, p.

233). Lastly, ironic phrasing can cause misunderstanding. Luttwak (2007 prologue) powerfully

argued that insurgencies may easily be crushed by the methods long perfected by Imperial forces

but his intention was to critique US foreign policy, not commend brutality. As a consequence,

categorising and reliably operationalising data for quantitative analysis is very difficult; yet

taking the natural route of case analysis falls vulnerable to selection on or near the dependent

variable. The conclusions are then likely to reflect case selection. Bearing this ambiguity in

mind and noting that not all research findings fall into one of the two camps, we will now look at

conceptions of State response that may provide analytical tools.

2.3.2 Understandings of State Responses

To describe responses, Berry (1987) offers a typology of five ‘mis-reactions’18 to ACV:

‘Overreactions’ are when indiscriminate or excessive force ‘literally or morally injures

innocents’ who become receptive to recruitment or cease to assist authorities.

Concurrently unharmed constituents perceive a violation of legitimacy, shifting political

support (pp. 8, 9).

18 Three are in a sense, over-reactions but here ‘over-reaction’ has a more specific meaning.


‘Power deflation’ is the opposite effect where the state fails to demonstrate capability,

insurgents increasingly apply violence freely, the operations of government an

administration dry up and the insurgents step in (p. 11).

The ‘(failed)19 repression of the moderates’ (sic) is where the state cannot attack the

insurgents directly, so lashes out in frustration, anger and anxiety (Berry, 1987, p. 12)

and oppresses the Red constituency, shifting support.

‘Appeasement of the moderates’ occurs where some insurgent demands are met whether

out of justice or to reduce motivation, possibly isolating them from support. However

this process can alienate government supporters (Berry, 1987, p. 14) encouraging more

violence, especially the emergence of pro-state terrorists (Neumann & Smith, 2008, p.

44).

‘Massive intimidation’ is a form of submission, where unlike power deflation; the target

has the capacity to act but chooses not to through lack of energy. It is intimidated into

inaction (Berry, 1987, p. 17).

Some theorists suggest that the impact of state or insurgent violence is not so much

related to its absolute magnitude as to the level applied by the other party. McCormick’s

equivalent response model proposes that both Red and Blue must apply violence at a level that

satisfies their constituencies but does not alienate them. This leads to a steadily escalating level

of violence over time (Lake, 2002, p. 13). Freeman (2008, p. 13) proposes a similar model which

suggests that Red must keep escalating to maintain pressure on Blue, but he suggests that there is

an absolute limit of violence for Red supporters. This leads to what Neumann and Smith (2005,

p. 588) call an ‘escalation trap’ where Red cannot continue to maintain pressure without losing

support from its own constituency. It seems possible that there is also a similar ‘maximum

threshold’ of Blue violence. Wardlaw offers explanations for these mis-reactions, especially

overreaction and ‘reactance’, from psychology (1987, p. 249) which are discussed in the next

section.

2.3.3 Analysis of State Response

These understandings now help us consider the research that attempts to resolve the

argument between advocates of robust and restrained approaches, noting that Lum et al.’s (2006,

p. 489; 2008, p. 36) reviews of related research showed that there is minimal empirical

investigation of policy and Lichbach’s (1987, pp. 266-267, 270) found it contradictory, posing

the question of unknown variables or convex or concave relationships between factors. It is also

important to recall from the introductory chapter that the key concept of ‘support’ that appears in

some of this literature work is problematical where it suggests free choice (Kalyvas, 2006, p. 93).

19 Berry’s use of the prefix ‘failed’ is ambiguous and refers to a wider failure.


We are concerned with observable support behaviour, not preference. In reviewing we will first

look at case study approaches, proceed to quantitative analysis of levels of violence, interaction

of multiple variables and then various other studies.

A small group of researchers has focussed on counterproductive state behaviour in

response to ‘terrorism’. The central proposition is that the historically significant consequences

of ACV that favour the Red actor derive from the responses of states and electorates (John

Mueller, 2005b, p. 487; Parker, 2007, p. 155; Silke, 2005, p. 242). Mueller (2005a, p. 2)

emphasises that the few exceptions are isolated cases of political assassination or where tolerance

for casualties is unusually low.

Silke’s explanation for the increase in terrorism through Government policy lies in

human nature: the universal instinct to respond to perceived injustice, even at personal cost.

Vengeance and revenge are powerful forces, surpassing self interest. Military reactions are

popular with Blue constituencies, but retaliation creates a cycle of vengeance between Red and

Blue around which polarisation and dehumanisation of opponents embeds the problem. Silke’s

paper (Forthcoming) that applied Malvesti’s (2002 abst.) ‘six factors explaining state response’ to

other cases, though inconclusive, suggests analysis based on identifying alternative factors

associated with counter-productive behaviour.

In similar vein, Parker’s (2007, p. 155) ‘Antaean construct’ describes drawing strength

from an opponent, citing Gurr‘s (1970) notion of ‘reactance’; ‘the use of coercion in the service

of any collective purpose tends to antagonize and increase the resistance of those against whom

it is directed’. He predicts and finds evidence for a correlation between a draconian state

response and both the resilience and intensity of terrorist campaigns in the UK, Germany,

Canada, Italy, and Israel.

Mueller’s paper on ‘reactions and over-reactions to terrorists’ (John Mueller, 2005a)

takes the clear position that: ‘… historically significant developments that emerge from terrorism

generally derive not from the act itself, but from the reactions, or overreactions, of states and

electorates to that act’. He then explores these over-reactions, suggesting that they are often

results of a ‘useful political play to justify a course already desired’, and that post-9/11 US policy

shifts served AQAM interests as intended, whilst restraint would have been superior and

politically possible. His examination of (cynical) political drivers suggests factors deserving

assessment in future research on state decision-making.

A few case examinations offer methodological guidance when they examine instances of

counterproductive behaviour in great and convincing detail using concrete examples with

evidence drawn from multiple viewpoints. Thornton’s (2007, pp. 73-90) examination of British

Army errors in Northern Ireland 1969-72 shows the complex mix of political and cultural factors

which led to what he calls ‘overreactions’. An Army which was quite widely aware of the risks


of negative response and initially had a good relationship with the latent republican constituency

of the IRA shifted to violent confrontation, aided by some inept command decisions, partisan

politics and provocation by both ‘Loyalist’ and ‘Republican’ extremists.

These case studies strongly suggest the existence of the counterproductive phenomenon

within the instances explored, however, since some of the content is conjecture, generalising

beyond must be limited. Importantly, the processes of countermobilisation and desertion are not

addressed in detail, indicating a research gap.

Because of the limitations of case studies for determining correlations, various

researchers have sought to apply more sophisticated analyses that consider the interaction of a

greater number of variables or apply quantitative approaches.

Small-n qualitative studies by Rosenthal (2006, pp. 274-284), Miller (2007, pp. 321,

343-344) and Moore (2008, pp. i-iv), considered the interaction of different insurgent motivations

and different state strategies on outcomes or violence levels. Although different typologies and

methods were used there is sufficient commonality make inferences from comparisons. For

instance, robust strategies generated greatest reactance from ethnic or religious groups with

strong bonds to constituencies whilst accommodative approaches were most beneficial against

the ethnic subset of that group, provided they were not ‘rational actors’. Furthermore, repressive

strategies do work against strategically motivated ‘rational actors’. These are mere observations

that highlight issues for examination, but this work does highlight the value of building research

on established frames to facilitate cross-analysis.

The most relevant of the studies using quantitative approaches compare different

approaches to ACV, looking at measures of violence as dependent variables. They explore a

range of independent variables; classes of repressive action, military versus state responses and

the efficacy of pre-emptive military force or interventions.

Trapp (1994, pp. xi, 64, 181) related repressive Israeli military actions to subsequent

civilian casualties, finding an increase following robust action. Enders and Sandler (1990, p. 2)

examined international terrorist events related to US security policies, finding a temporary

increase in attacks after ‘deterrent’ bombing of Libya. W.H. Moore (2008, p. 16) related

measures of government coercion to cross-national terrorist events, finding rights-violating

coercion tends to spur terror. Similarly, Sherman was cited by Lum et al (2006, p. 510) for work

that links suicide bombing rates in Iraq to military US actions, and Sheehan (2006, pp. 243, abst.)

related robust incidents in the Global War on Terror (GWOT) with international ACV. These

studies suggested that in the short term at least, Blue force increased ACV, shifted targets and

made it deadlier. However not all studies found so clearly in this direction: Munroe (2008, pp.,

21, 29) graded European military and police actions for aggressiveness and related changes in

this to terrorist incidents. He found that aggressive responses do increase total violence level, but

this is overstated and actual lethality decreases.


Taking a broader view of the thesis topic, Arreguín-Toft’s (1998; 2001) strategic-

interaction theories rest on analysis of a large set of conflicts. In a paper (2003) using the same

methods, he focussed on the possible effectiveness of a ‘barbaric’ coercive strategy of systematic

injury of non-combatants. He found that unless carried to genocidal extremes, barbarism is

ineffective in the longer term, except perhaps for weaker actors where its utility is to provoke

greater barbarism by the stronger. Looking narrowly, a study very closely related to this thesis

was Korte’s (2005, pp. 48-52) which statistically tested counterproductive effects of

counterterrorist strategies in Northern Ireland by relating violent activity to two law enforcement

and four military interventions. Both indiscriminate and highly discriminate Blue actions were

associated with increased violent activity, except for the overwhelming and well advertised

military clearance operation to clear ‘no-go’ areas, possibly due to certainty effects (Lafree et al.,

2009, p. 37).

There is a broad set of mathematical, modelling and systems analysis approaches that

seek to provide representations of process including ACV. Generally they are simply useful

methods for developing and illustrating theories, but in some cases the models developed may be

loaded with event data and tested by computer simulation (Wright, 2006, p. 182). Anderson,

starting with a theoretical model of the Anglo-Irish war, developed models exploring legitimacy,

influence and finally testing the US military doctrine (2006; 2009; 2007; 2007). Others have

produced general models of insurgency (D. S. Bennett, 2008, pp. 1-15; Rosendorff & Sandler,

2004) or ones adapted to the conflict in Iraq (Minami & Kucik, 2009; Weaver, 2009).

Increasingly simulation models built and loaded with historical data reproduce subsequent

patterns despite an inherent unpredictability of individual actions. This was convincingly shown

by the ecology model of insurgency (Bohorquez, Gourley, Dixon, Spagat, & Johnson, 2009).

Whilst such models are entirely driven by their modelling assumptions and algorithms, it is

significant that all relevant models that show credible relationship to COIN reality assume some

level of negative feedback loop from robust Blue actions; the issue then is not whether this

occurs, but its strength in relation to other processes.

2.3.4 Section Summary

This section looked at state response to ACV in more detail, explaining the ‘robust

versus restrained’ debate, providing descriptors of mis-reaction and outlining the research

addressing the debate. Issues highlighted for attention include greater reactance from religious

and ethnic groups and least from strategically motivated ones, a strong possibility that

‘robustness of scale’ does suppress and the primacy of perceptions and context over violent

content. There are two important findings. Firstly, that a gap exists regarding

countermobilisation and desertion at the case study level of analysis. Secondly, that case studies

suffer from appearing to have been chosen to provide evidence to support a particular argument


rather than test it. Thirdly, the question of the correct response to insurgency is not conclusively

resolved in the research, although the balance strongly favours the restraint case. The position

can be summed up by these words:

In the data we have available the force option is not the predominant instrument it sometimes seems today and it is not negligible as some have claimed in the debate. In light of our limited knowledge, this logically leads to a plea for more, and more thorough research (Duyvesteyn, 2008, p. 333).

2.4 SECTION D: AGGRESSIVE RESPONSES AND SUPPORT SHIFTS

This section asks the broad question: why do people respond in counterproductively

aggressive ways and what factors explain why constituencies shift their support?

Psychological theories that explain individual, leader and group preferences for robust

actions are explained, and then what the literature has specifically suggested about why counter-

mobilisation, suppression and desertion occur is listed.

2.4.1 The Political Psychology of Robust Reaction

This thesis is not a psychological analysis; however an overview of the theory of human

and political responses to threat and violence is important to frame the issues, identify

mechanisms and establish the wide support for theories of aggressive and ‘reactive’ responses to

threat.

Clues to the reasons for an I-Syndrome may be found in Dixon’s (1976, p. 32)

exploration of military leader error. He tells us ‘… the human decision maker is victim of another

hazard – namely that attention, perception, memory and thinking are all liable to distortion or

bias by emotion or motivation’. We may like to imagine that decision making is ‘rational’.

Dixon suggests that if mental functions evolved to satisfy biological and social needs, they

cannot be free of bias. ‘Emotions and needs distort mental processes in proportion to their

strength and are accentuated in situations of ambiguity and uncertainty: rationality in these

circumstances is miraculous’. Cognition evolved in combination with other brain functions of

instinctive behaviour and emotion. Near-automatic responses to either flee from predators at a

first sign, or aggressively fight back, inclinations to exaggerate or downplay particular risks as

well as instincts to bond closely with one’s own tribe and denigrate others evolved over hundreds

of thousands of years of hunter-gathering in small groups. Anger and revenge evolved as

mechanisms to override self interest and drive counter attacks, to encourage cooperation and

because a reputation for aggression gives individual or group evolutionary advantage by

imposing caution (Magouirk, 2006, p. 52; McCauley, 2002, p. 7). In tribal society there is

survival value in categorisation of others as ‘in-group’ or ‘out-group’ and favouring potential

allies and demonizing and dehumanising adversaries, as explained by Social Identity Theory


(SIT). However these same ‘primitive responses’ nowadays drive aggressive policies and

decision making (Maoz & McCauley, 2008, p. 94; Shaw & Wong, 1989 intro.) and may even

determine most foreign policy (Allan & Geva, 2006, pp. 8,9). The intrinsic mechanisms that

balance such primitive adaptations have been overtaken by techno-social human advancement.

For instance, the evolved human reluctance to kill (Grossman, 1996) only operates at distances

where expressions and posture can be seen, so weapons technology has made this inhibition

irrelevant.

Bias and emotion seem highly likely to distort behaviour in the context of contemporary

conflict. We appear vulnerable to making flawed choices in a form of conflict that deliberately

triggers primal emotions of fear and anger yet offers nowhere to flee nor offers an appropriate

target to strike back at.

Emotion: Function and Generation

The role of emotion in decision making can be summarized in the following way. People can and do make decisions that are the result of the comparison of alternative expected outcomes. They do so when they have time and little experience handling that kind of problem. But when time is short, and people have had previous experiences in the area in question, an additional process affects their decisions. A situation, when encountered, is recognized, and a general course of action is associated with that recognition, all in one step. “I know what this is and I know roughly what to do.” People adopt a general course of action in a way that seems “obvious” and necessary to them given what they observe. Further searches for information and rational analysis to develop more specific strategies can and do follow this initial recognition and reaction. But the initial decision is based on the information stored in the memory as it relates to the problem in question. A new situation, when encountered, will be seen as conforming to one of many patterns stored in the long-term memory of the decision maker. Those remembered patterns were formed at a time of emotional arousal through which the decision-maker lived. In short, decisions are affected by emotion-based pattern recognition, a process of which the decision maker may or may not be consciously aware. Reason and conscious cognition will also be in operation and can reverse or modify the emotion-based decision, if time permits and compelling data is available. On the other hand, reason and conscious cognition can play a secondary role after a basic course of action has been highlighted by the emotion-based pattern recognition, helping to determine which specific actions to take that are consistent with the emotional reaction (Rosen, 2007, p. 29).

As Rosen’s explanation above clarifies, how recent research in psychology and

neuroscience has established that emotion is not distinct from the ‘dispassionate’ systematic

process of reason but intricately linked with cognitive functions such as perception, planning,

learning, etc (Hudlicka, 1998, p. 1).

Emotion does not merely enable reasoning; it also powers20 mental shortcuts or

heuristics which have evolved to permit rapid ‘less-reasoned’ survival-related decisions: for

example the ‘choice’ to fight or flee immediately after detecting minor environmental cues that

might indicate danger. Many of these heuristics also contain evolved biases to particular types of

decisions, an effect that becomes more pronounced in the face of stronger emotions: ‘the

20 Rosen (p. 30) explains the merits of such a system in IT terms. Humans brains have a large storage capacity, but a small buffer and slow CPU, so a bypass system that puts less demand on working memory and processing makes sense


connections from the emotional system to the cognitive system are much stronger than the

reverse’ (LeDoux, 1996, p. 19). Consequently McDermott (2004, p. 691) proposes that

‘emotions are productive for decisions but distort them’.

The expressions ‘wild with anger’ or ‘paralysed by fear’ indicate that acute negative

emotions inhibit cognition. Anger focuses not just attention but hostility on the threat, motivates

an ‘eagerness for action’ and ‘punitive behaviours’ whilst ‘reducing conciliatory and tolerant’

ones, as one might expect. However, less obviously, anger also diminishes perception of risk.

This gives evolutionary advantage in an unavoidable fight but makes people ‘indiscriminately

optimistic’ about matters pertaining to self, and will bias a person’s perceptions, decisions and

behaviour in matters totally unrelated to the source of anger. It also reduces discrimination, for

example, generating a focus on punishment rather than culpability, and an inclination to disregard

the arguments and judge on the basis of superficial qualities such as a speaker’s appearance

(Lerner & Tiedens, 2006, pp. 116-117, 123, 125, 127). In contrast fear, if not used immediately

to drive flight or fight, inhibits action (Hollander, 2004, p. 866). Fear and anxiety tend to focus

all attention on the threat, make judgement pessimistic, drive risk avoidance strategies and, for

logical evolutionary reasons, also increase conciliatory behaviour (van Troost, 2007, pp. 4-6).

Critically and counter-intuitively however, non-acute fear or anxiety deepens cognitive

processing (Leonie Huddy, Feldman, & Cassese, 2007, p. 7) producing ‘logical’ behaviour such

as wariness (Perry & Lindell, 2003, pp. 51, 59).

Appraisals and Generation of Anger and Fear

How emotions arise is important because this predicts reaction to events. Appraisal

theory suggests an unpleasant event triggers fear when it is ‘appraised’ as uncertain and there is a

lack of control (Leonie Huddy et al., 2007, p. 9). In contrast anger arises when a situation is

‘appraised’ as clear and certain, committed by an identifiable human agent other than the self and

the situation can be influenced (Hudlicka, 2004, p. 119). This explains the bias to action and

escalatory effect of anger, which may be experienced as exhilarating and prompt the belief you

will get what you want, especially if anticipating harm to adversaries (Lerner & Tiedens, 2006,

pp. 118, 131). Such positive psychological experiences of anger explain why sad or frightened

people may use anger to ‘stay in control’ (Freyd, 2002, p. 5) and why leaders alleviate distress by

generating anger. Holding an aggressive ‘pro-war’ attitude may give psychological protection

against fear (Todd, Wilson, & Casey, 2005, p. 184) and a wide range of studies has shown

emotional effects on public views and leader decisions during conflict (Leonie Huddy et al.,

2007, p. 27; Lerner & Tiedens, 2006, p. 121).


Fairness, Revenge and Vengeance

Anger particularly arises in response to perceived unfairness, which is especially

pertinent to ACV since many researchers argue that ‘terrorism’ occurs mainly to redress

perceived wrongs (Cronin, 2009, p. 120; Magouirk, 2006; Silke, 2005, p. 241). Fairness is an

innate concept and though its rules vary cross-culturally, humans are universally willing to act

contrary to own self-interest to right perceived wrongs against those for whom they feel empathy

(Turillo, Folger, Lavelle, Umphress, & Gee, 2002, pp. 840-841), even when reputation or future

risk are irrelevant (Fehr & Schmidt, 1999, p. 812). People judge whether cultural norms are

violated and where the act is not unequivocally intentional; assess culpability according to

foreseeability and controllability of consequences (Tedeschi & Felson, 1994, pp. 217-223).

Revenge is a deeply rooted adaptive instinct (Magouirk, 2006, p. 61) that in all societies is

triggered by outrage at blatant and purposeful violations of cultural or societal rules or norms.

Vengeance seeks the emotional harm of a target for actor emotional satisfaction and self esteem;

the audience can be the self, meaning that ‘instrumental effectiveness’ may be irrelevant.

Humiliation and shame universally accentuate desire for revenge, especially if accompanied by

perpetrator gloating (Lowenheim & Heimann, 2008, pp. 691, 694, 696, 867).

Distortion of Judgement

There is a range of heuristic ‘rules of thumb’ or biases, some listed at Figure 8, which

tend to drive misjudgement of both threats and the benefits of responses. Some heuristics interact

to particularly favour ‘primitive’ aggressive responses to ACV. Prospect theory explains that

people are cautious until they lose something, after which they will take great risks for a small

prospect of restitution: thus risky military retaliations have more appeal after a damaging ACV

attack (Malvesti, 2002, p. iv; C. R. Sunstein, 2003, p. 123). Probability neglect argues that if a

potential threat is both emotionally ‘salient’ and is also easy to recall, cognition reduces and low

probabilities are ignored (Slovic, 2004, pp. 982-983; C. R. Sunstein, 2003, p. 128). ‘If terrible

outcomes are easy to visualize, large-scale changes in thought and behaviour are to be expected

and overreactions can occur even if the objective risks are very small.’ (Cass R. Sunstein &

Zeckhauser, 2008 para. 1:5, 2:5).


Figure 8: Judgement Biases Relevant to ACV

Terror Management Theory (TMT) builds on Social interaction Theory (SIT) to explain

consistent experimental correlation between reminding subjects of their mortality and

chauvinistic aggression (Pyszczynski, 2004, p. 832). Because cultural worldviews, identity and

self-esteem provide vital psychological protection from innate fear of death, individuals react

towards any ‘out-group’ challenging those worldviews with stereotyping, prejudice and

aggression, whilst concurrently increasing ‘in-group’ bonding behaviour such as patriotic display

and support for aggressive actions and leaders (Pyszczynski et al., 2006). These inclinations

towards aggression are compounded by a deep-seated social belief in the efficacy of punishment

to deter, and an equally strong (if contradictory) belief in the necessity to avoid submitting to

coercion; a logic justifying instinctive reactance. These beliefs bias both public demand and

leader inclination towards aggressive policies that are then viewed as viable against another actor

that would be totally unacceptable against oneself (Rothbart & Hallmark, 1988, p. 248).

All these effects combine to distort people’s judgement such that in the context of threat,

experimentally and in practice, they show an action bias and favour precautionary violence or

punishment actions that are not justified by any plausible analysis of expected utility (Cass R.

The optimism bias dictates that people think that we, as individuals, will do better than most others

engaged in the same activity (This does not operate in regard to vulnerability (say to terrorism) but

rather to responses.

The illusion of control bias is an extension of optimism that makes people believe that they can control

outcomes they have little or no real control over.

The unfamiliar risk bias dictates that an unfamiliar risk or one that the individual cannot control will be

exaggerated.

The confirmation bias dictates that people are more likely to notice evidence that confirms a

previously held position.

The reactive devaluation bias dictates that people will place low value on offers from an adversary.

The interpretation bias dictates that people will place the worst possible interpretation on an

adversary actions and disregard obvious factors influencing them, but will assume that an adversary

will correctly divine their own good intentions or restraint.

The affect (felt emotion) heuristic dictates that judgement will be swayed by emotional feeling

towards an issue, especially by initial emotional perceptions.

The availability heuristic dictates that memories that are easily recalled are given high priority.

Memories with high vividness or emotional content have high ‘availability’

The representativeness heuristic dictates that the probability of something belonging to a category is

based on how well it appears to represent that category, where the representativeness may be

irrelevant: stereotyping is an example of this.

The sure gain heuristic dictates that sure gain will generally be judged better than a lower chance at a

greater gain.

The sure loss heuristic dictates that a sure loss will generally be judged worse than a lower chance of a

greater loss.

(Slovic, 2004, p. 986; Schneier, 2008; Kahneman & Renshon, 2007)


Sunstein & Zeckhauser, 2008 para. 1:5, 2:5). Anger, hate and fear combine with this to enable

‘defensively motivated’ aggression and war (Shaw & Wong, 1989, p. 101).

There are constraints on these processes. The substantial enemy threats in symmetric

war both denies scope for overreaction and demands careful response, whilst violent conflict

within communities is dampened by the negative reciprocity and rules of the law. However,

neither of these constraints operates well in the context of ACV. Thus we may conclude that a

key mechanism in ACV appears to be portrayal of Red in terms that trigger distorted judgements

and release excessive responses by Blue and the reciprocal seems equally plausible.

Leader and Political Effects

Given the evidence that deterrence-based thinking with regard to terrorism is often demonstrably unsuccessful, we must ask ourselves why it remains the most common reaction of governments to terrorist threats (Lafree et al., 2009, p. 38).

The distortion effects discussed above operate equally on constituencies and their

leaders, and this has been shown to impact on foreign policy decisions (Skorick, 2005, p. 131).

However a tendency to be overly optimistic, poor statisticians and make fundamental attribution

errors appears to be particularly associated with the decisions of aggressive leaders. The

processes by which ‘systematic’ decisions are actually made also can emphasise the above biases

or create other distortions (Gupta, 2008, pp. 163, 196). ‘Polyheuristic’ and ‘cognitive calculus’

theories rest on the notion that decision-makers are cognitive misers and minimise mental

processes (Brulé, 2008, p. 278; Dacey & Carlson, 2004, p. 40; Gronich, 2005, pp. 3-5). They

unconsciously use two stage decision processes, first defining the problem using heuristics, and

so embedding any bias, before initiating the systematic and rational stage. Collective decision

making has its own dangers. ‘Groupthink’ explains how members' strivings for unanimity

override their motivation to realistically appraise alternative courses of action’ whilst the

complementary ‘non-evaluation theory’ considers that critical evaluation in a group may be

avoided or actively suppressed (P. M. Johnson, 2001; Van Evera, 2002 VII). Even in a

sophisticated decision making environment that seeks contestability, ‘extremity shift effects’ may

apply as group decisions become either riskier or more cautious over time because members seek

to be ‘above average’ in relation to the perceived sentiment of the group (this can also explain

that internal discussion in a Red constituency about what is widely agreed to be a great harm

inflicted might spiral upwards into aggressiveness (McCauley, 1987, pp. 247-248)). These

process theories explain why political crisis decision making can be volatile, rather than

necessarily favouring aggression.

Recent advances in the neurosciences offer a wealth of new information about how the brain works, and how the body and mind interact. These findings offer important and surprising implications for work in political science. Specifically, emotion exerts an impact on political decisions in decisive and significant ways. While its importance in political science has frequently been either dismissed or ignored in favor (sic) of theories that privilege rational reasoning,


emotion can provide an alternate basis for explaining and predicting political choice and action (McDermott, 2004, p. 691).

One check on aggression is the presence of leaders with senior military experience.

Although they have strong ‘can-do’ attitudes, Petraeus’ (1987) thesis showed that they typically

favour caution regarding the use of force. Volatility is also checked by the presence of

emotionally sensitive leaders who have the empathy to anticipate opponent responses and the

capacity for anxiety to drive systematic analysis and decisions. However, in practice the

democratic process favours candidates who display ‘psychologically thick skins’; indicators of

sensitivity are considered weak and ‘un-leaderlike’. Furthermore, many drawn to politics or

favoured by voters hold ‘schema’ of strong leader behaviour or moral convictions based on a rule

framework (2006, p. 6). These factors select leaders inclined to punish and ‘who are unlikely to

want to or be capable of balanced analysis of situations of violent conflict and will favour

aggressive responses (Sardamov, 2007, pp. 11-13).

More pragmatic considerations also apply. Leaders are well aware of the payoff of

taking an aggressive and action based stance (Byman, 2006, p. 5), because this offers

psychological protection against fear to constituents and tends to increase political power,

sometimes generating a ‘rally round the flag’ effect (Frey, 2004, pp. 32, 36, 158). It has been

argued that politicians only respond to public demand, but Crenshaw (2001, p. 335) and Mueller

(2005a), have suggested that strong political leadership of non-reaction to ACV can be effective

(as after the 2005 London Transport Bombings). The dilemma is that there is little political

penalty for aggression but there may be one for prudence (Kilcullen, 2009, p. 277; Rothbart &

Hallmark, 1988, p. 248). In particular, a credible alternative politician may denounce non-action

(Freedman, 2007, p. 323) and promote an aggressive stance and that will probably have greater

public appeal for the reasons explained above.

Whatever the motives, it is clear from Mueller’s (2004; 2005a, 2005b; 2005; 2006, 2007)

extensive work that probability neglect within constituencies enables ‘threat exaggeration’ by

leaders who use the media to make risks ‘emotionally salient’ which translates to support for

their espousing of robust response policies, especially those who can claim credit for responding

to a risk (Cass R. Sunstein & Zeckhauser, 2008 para. 1:5, 2:5). Renshon asks:

Why are (political) hawks so influential? The answer may lie deep in the human mind. People have dozens of decision-making biases, and almost all favor (sic) conflict rather than concession…In situations of potential conflict, an optimistic bias makes politicians and generals receptive to advisors who offer highly favourable estimates of the outcomes of war. Such a predisposition, often shared by leaders on both sides of a conflict, is likely to produce a disaster…In fact, when we constructed a list of the biases uncovered in 40 years of psychological research, we were startled by what we found: All the biases in our list favor (sic) hawks. These psychological impulses—only a few of which we discuss here—incline national leaders to exaggerate the evil intentions of adversaries, to misjudge how adversaries perceive them, to be overly sanguine when hostilities start, and overly reluctant to make necessary concessions in negotiations. In short, these biases have the effect of making wars more likely to begin and more difficult to end (Kahneman & Renshon, 2007, p. 34).


Pro-war bias may initiate conflict of all kinds, but aggressive posturing distorts less in an

ongoing symmetric conflict where the opponent represents an existential-strategic threat; some

natural caution survives. However in ACV such bias readily leads to robust policy decisions that

may prove iatrogenic.

Variables for Response

Whilst this literature has identified the role of emotions and bias as well as political

drivers, opportunism and personality factors as possible reasons for differing state responses.

Arreguín-Toft (2006, p. 147) offers a very tentative integration by suggesting explanations must

account for politicians addressing multiple audiences. For instance compromise with insurgent

actors risks domestic political costs, whereas robust responses appeal to electorates. Three

researchers offer possible variables. Berry suggested that key variables affecting target (meaning

either side) responses are: ‘targets perception of self, targets perception of the terrorist and the

relative capabilities of state and terrorist’ (1987, p. 7). Neumann (2008, p. 43) say’s Berry’s

second variable is actually attitude towards moderates. Lowenheim & Heimann say that the

variables for (vengeful) response are; ‘the degree to which state experiences harm as morally

outrageous, the intensity of humiliation that it feels as a consequence and the extent to which

negative reciprocity is institutionalised’ (Lowenheim & Heimann, 2008, p. 687).

2.4.2 Theoretical Explanations for Constituency Reactions

Having explained why states may respond robustly to ACV, the key issue for this thesis

is what happens next? The crucial question is: why does repression sometimes reduce Red

support? We can get useful insight into this from understanding why Blue communities

sometimes desert and why Red communities sometimes countermobilise, increasing their support

for Red or even driving what Kavanagh (2011, p. xi) calls a ‘constituency service demand’ for

violent response against Blue? The literature suggests some possible factors for each, albeit

fewest for the case of repression that we are interested in. Before considering these, we will

examine the factors relevant to all three effects under the headings of: social identity, legitimacy

and reactance.

Social Identity

We have just seen that the effects of SIT (dehumanisation and depersonalisation of

outgroups by ingroups) can play a role in confrontational and aggressive behaviours. Identity as

an occupier or alien has been shown to often stimulate resistance. Perceived dissimilarity

between the state and its forces and the insurgent constituency driving SIT may be ethnic,

religious or ideological or a combination. The greater the gap, the more readily and powerfully


psychological SIT effects will, or can be made to, operate. As Butler and Gates point out: ‘ethnic

or ideological proximity (between insurgent and constituency) makes it easier for insurgent

leaders to demonize the superior force regarding even small injustices’ (2008, p. 4). Insurgents

operating against a foreign power have an enormous advantage as the perception of the outsiders

as ‘other’ by the local communities is inherent and the shift to ‘hostile-other’ latent. The

insurgent can also be relatively indiscriminate without cost: all foreigners are ‘them’ (Neumann

& Smith, 2008, p. 37).

Whilst ethnicity has sometimes been considered to be a prime factor in insurgency,

Moore (2008, pp. 17-22) suggests that current consensus aligns with Gurr’s argument that

ethnicity per se does not drive such conflicts. It is rather a framing device to mobilize groups for

insurgency. Difference is not an inherent SIT driver since historically all empires accommodated

great differences in subject peoples and many modern states continue to do so successfully. It is

undoubtedly used to recruit and motivate insurgents and may be emphasised by actors, but the

prime motivation is typically nationalistic, ideological or religious (C. D. Moore, 2008, p. 404).

Ethnicity becomes salient21 when states ‘crackdown on constituencies who share ethnic or

religious identity with the insurgents because this increases the communal identity’ (Rosenthal,

2006, p. 275). It is thus an issue created by state action rather than intrinsic.

Legitimacy and Its Loss

As the reader will already have observed, perceptions of legitimacy are strongly linked to

popular support in the ACV literature, with Gupta (2008, p. 83) saying they are equivalent and

many (Ivan Arreguín-Toft, 2006, p. 161; R. S. Lewis & Metzger, 2009, p. 12; Weinberg, 1991, p.

437) following Lomperis’s (1996, p. 40) thesis that a struggle for legitimacy is the core of any

insurgency. Jones (2010, pp. 2, 3) argues persuasively that insurgency is most constructively

understood as a civil emergency of failed governance and lost legitimacy is the key. A major

RAND study also notes that a constituency’s perceived legitimacy of Blue is inversely correlated

with that of Red: bad behaviour inherently makes the adversary ‘look good’ (C. Paul, 2009, p.

123).

Some ambiguity arises as the term has a range of meanings between what might be

called ‘categorical’ or ‘moral’ legitimacy of everyday usage and Weberian ‘political legitimacy’

which is a much more specific ‘subjective belief in the validity of domination’ (Kamolnick, 2010,

p. 5). This is an assumption or perception that it is appropriate to defer to or obey an entity out of

internally normalised obligation rather than penalty or reward. It is what makes a ruling a state

possible without an omnipresent system of surveillance, enforcement and incentive (Tyler, 2006,

pp. 337, 375-378). Authority is conceded because of human desire for order and hierarchy that is

21 This applies less to ideological insurgents who do not have a readily identifiable and supportive audience


deeply rooted psychologically and heavily conditioned socially. Weber argued that legitimacy is

normalised by established tradition, deeply held faith and observed law rather than affect and

judgement; one might say ‘more habit than choice’ (Weber, 1948, p. intro.). It thus has inertia

and is resistant to reassignment. Insurgents need and seek to establish new legitimacy but this is

difficult and habit typically favours an established Blue state constituency, which may be why so

many insurgencies fail despite representing ‘popular issues’. Successful insurgency and rebellion

generally appear to exploit or reflect ongoing shifts in legitimacy as much as drive them.

Certainly rebels often try to minimise perceived change so that they can usurp established

legitimacy.

The gradual rise of nationalism in the 19th Century and spreading ideas of colonial self-

determination in the 20th appear to have provided the legitimacy that drove independence

movements. However alien authority is neither inherently illegitimate nor popular resistance to it

inevitable. Throughout history peoples have been conquered and submitted. Many have

nurtured separate identity and re-emerged, but over the grand scale of time, most distinct groups

have submitted and been subsumed by larger ones, at the very least until the aggregate was a

viable military entity. After defeat loyalty shifted, demonstrating that violence does not

necessarily undermine legitimacy. .

This robust view challenges arguments that follow Gurr (1970, p. 17) to argue that

excessive state force, particularly against civilians, causes delegitimation in the eyes of the

civilian population and justifies resistance (p. 21). State violence causes dehumanisation and

depersonalisation of associated individuals which in turn enables and so explains violent action

against it. This is a phenomenon that della Porta (1995, p. 158) described as ‘breaking the

democratic contract’. The explanation for this contradiction may be cultural and lie in the notion

of outrage: harm suffered by assault against a concept of socially constructed rights (McFate &

Jackson, 2006, p. 15). What constitutes a severe affront is context more than content dependent.

Saxon defeat at the hand of the Normans was interpreted as an act of God that transferred

legitimacy, unchanged by the massacre of the entire population of rebel Yorkshire. The defeat of

Irish armies by Elizabeth, Cromwell and William of Orange was an act by the godless to be

avenged. The tariff of outrage that will lose legitimacy will change with time, place and

constituency.

New Theory

Finally there is the author’s articulation of a synthesis of the ideas of others: the loss of

co-opted patriotism. This is the notion that when a nation commences a war against an enemy

that does not represent an existential threat, and without widespread support, it creates a latent

shift of support away from the government. People will rally ‘round the flag’ but those

previously opposed to the war will seize any major failure of legitimacy on the part of the state


forces as an opportunity to reassert their true preferences. Mack’s (1975, p. 187) writing also

prompts a new idea that may help explain the domestic countermobilising function of robust state

policies. He observes the dilemma that given that an asymmetric conflict is a political rather than

a military struggle, objectively, opposing the war does mean aiding the enemy (p. 187). Perhaps

this also means that when states wage war without broad consensus of necessity (as is far more

likely in asymmetric contests) this creates, amongst those inclined to oppose the war, an internal

tension between moral conviction and the loyalty to the group (patriotism) demanded of citizens.

The thus alienated or ‘disenfranchised’ opponents of the war are ‘set up’ as a latent constituency

of critics. If a swift and cheap victory is not achieved, then this group have a large psychological

stake in ending the physical conflict simply to end their personal internal conflicts. When the

state suffers reverses or displays moral lapses, grounds for ‘loyal opposition’ to the war emerge.

Reactance

Legitimacy delivers obedience without the need for coercion, with the inference that the

authority has the right to use force to coerce if not obeyed. However just as legitimacy is largely

a matter of norms and tradition, so is the level of coercion that is usual, acceptable and thus will

not cause outrage. Even if a state has legitimacy amongst a constituency it’s ‘use of unmediated

power will typically falsify that legitimacy and drive resistance’. Where legitimacy does not exist

or is lost, the state is in a bind. If it ‘fails to provide security, citizens may seek it elsewhere’

(McFate & Jackson, 2006, p. 14). If it uses coercion to pursue security, reactance leads to

resisting the coercer (R. S. Lewis & Metzger, 2009, p. 32). This has been confirmed in a review

of a range of research programmes (Scott, 1990, p. 109) which noted that an imposing threat

backed by close surveillance to detect and punish deviance may deliver overt compliance but

covert reactance will increase. Surveillance drives this reaction and its withdrawal causes

compliance to evaporate:

...forced compliance not only fails to produce attitudes that would sustain that compliance in the absence of domination, but produces a reaction against such attitudes... Coercion, it would seem, can produce compliance but it virtually inoculates the complier against willing compliance (Scott, 1990, p. 109).

2.4.3 Successful Repression or Coercion: When does it Shift Support?

When does repression work? Despite the assertion by the advocates of the robust

approach that sufficient force will overcome, the historical record is ambiguous. Certainly it is

true that wherever populations did not have protective forests, mountains or marshes to escape to

or were dependent on fixed stores of food, then conquering armies with superior arms offered a

true existential threat. Failure to submit to the Romans or the Mongols did have inevitable

consequences. Well organised democides have typically eliminated resistance and the European

Empires and the expanding USA held entire peoples in submission with ruthless techniques


including collective punishment. However, rebellion did still occur. WW2 provides some

particularly puzzling instances and perhaps clues. Despite the mythology of popular resistance,

occupying German forces, especially the Wehrmacht (Army) rather than the ideologically

motivated SS, managed to keep most of occupied Europe quiescent with a fairly predictable form

of martial law, not hugely different from that practised before and later by the Allies in their

colonies. Yet in the Ukraine and Yugoslavia far more ruthless and indiscriminate methods,

driven by ideological concepts of racial purity, not only failed to snuff out an initially small

resistance movement, but invigorated it from populations who sometimes had welcomed the

German invaders (Lieb, 2008, p. 73). Arreguin-Toft (2003, p. 15) suggests that this very lack of

discrimination was a key factor. If so, then this is not simply a case of ‘might will prevail’.

Cronin says ‘repression succeeds when it mobilises the rightful forces of the state

against the violent perpetrators (and their supporters) within a community without catalysing a

larger counter-mobilisation of that community or a desertion of the governments own support’

(Cronin, 2009, p. 143). The significant word is ‘rightful’. The repressing force must by

implication have some degree of ‘legitimacy’ in the eyes of the population at large. It should

presumably have legitimacy in its own eyes, something that should not be assumed, for failure to

repress can surely be associated with Armies who doubt their work. Cronin seems to infer that a

necessary if not sufficient condition for ‘legitimate’ repression is shared state nationality, which

may be valid but offers limited insight.

Kalyvas’s research on civil wars is important, for he alerts us to the complexity of

individual motives for supporting or joining an insurgency result from ‘variable and complex sets

of heterogeneous and interacting motivations’ and affected by both ‘beliefs and preferences over

outcomes’ (Kalyvas, 2006, p. 92) as well as considerations of personal security in ambiguous and

threatening circumstances. He also reminds us that support for either side is frequently coerced.

Less obvious motives may include22 curiosity, the prospect of excitement and adventure, the lure

of danger, acquisition of a more rewarding identity or moral worldview, the pleasure of acting as

one’s own agent, material benefit or criminal advantage’ (Kalyvas, 2006, pp. 92-96). A

particularly strong factor is the behaviour of others and the social network close to the individual,

as a range of other researchers have pointed out (Davis & Cragin, 2009; Oberschall, 2004; Reid

& Chen, 2007; Resnyansky, 2007).

What does the literature tell us beyond this?

22 It is theoretically reassuring that these motives (less profit or agency) broadly echo those identified amongst those volunteering for military service with the forces of the state in the World Wars of the 20th C: i.e. insurgents are like us.


Nominated Factors for Effective Suppression of Support

There is a small set of specific factors identified in the literature as associated with

reducing support:

A claim to legitimacy

Material capability relative to the environment

Motivation to Repress

Discipline and training to discriminate

The first is that the force has a claim to legitimacy on some level, in the eyes of the

population either as an established authority or by right of a conquest against a society that has

traditions of warfare that allow submission. Legitimacy might also possibly be gained by

administering through established and social structures recognised as legitimate by the population

and imposing penalties on and via that structure for non-compliance. The force must also have

the military capability relative to the environment to be able to enforce at least local and selected

control and compel actions within that area. Further, it must have the motivation and conviction

needed to enforce its collective will. Finally the force has the capacity to apply force with

sufficient discrimination that it is a disincentive to insurgent activity but members of the

population can generally protect themselves by compliant behaviour (McFate & Jackson, 2006,

p. 16). Essentially the last three factors amount to the capability to coerce selectively, and it

seems likely that there are other factors as yet undetermined.

Nominated Factors for Counter-mobilisation of Insurgent Constituency

There is a similar set of specific factors associated with counter-mobilisation of the

insurgent constituency:

A Common Motivating idea

A Perception of Broad Threat and Viability of Insurgency

Inequity

Disenfranchisement

Loss of trust

The first is that there must be a single unifying motivator. The second is that the

constituency must believe that the threat posed by the state is substantial and that the insurgency

is viable. For effective support for the resistance of a weak group to occur it must be a ‘going

concern’ and that there must be recognition of an outside threat to the weak group constituency

as a whole (Mack, 1975, p. 182). Record (2007b) amplifies to suggests that the threat must be

large and wide and the prospect of insurgent success real. Thirdly, the state must be perceived by

the constituency as partisan. The British Army’s behaviour in Northern Ireland (NI) provides

examples of this (R. Thornton, 2007, pp. 83-87, 93-84). Fourth, as Noricks (2009, p. 20) points


out, the literature of revolution in particular shows a link between disenfranchisement (loss of

agency) and support for terrorism. This is consistent with the above psychological theory which

explains risk taking increases when a person enters the ‘realm of losses’. The last factor, of loss

of trust, relies on the same logic. The state has acted in a manner causing it to be disbelieved. In

Northern Ireland the Army failed to quickly refute false allegations and made statements that

were shown to be untrue (R. Thornton, 2007, p. 101). Distrust and partisanship clearly operate to

erode legitimacy.

Nominated Factors for Desertion of Government Support

What then are the factors associated with desertion of support for the state?

Outrage

Time and Experience

Loss of Trust

Mid Range Threat Perception

Asymmetric Axiological Constraint

Failure of Robust Methods

In addition to the primary issue of outrage (Riesen, 2006, pp. 141-143), there are several

factors that are correlated with Blue constituency shifts in political positions towards those

favoured by Red. Firstly, the population should have experienced the violence for some time in

order for some of the psychological biases to have reduced and for the ‘risk’ profile (of continued

certain continued costs) to be clear. ‘When faced with external threats such as global terrorism,

democracies respond in a pendulum fashion - acting initially by giving security precedence over

other values and then swinging back towards moderation, the pursuit of tolerance, and the

promotion of policies that match the preferences of the median voter in society.’ (Matthew &

Shambaugh, 2005, p. 223). Secondly, acts of dishonesty should have occurred causing the

population to no longer believe government information:

In a time of crisis, the public need to believe they are being told the truth...and, even more crucially, that their government is acting in good faith.... When a government’s warnings on such a serious issue as terrorism are viewed with suspicion there is a fundamental problem. Not only because it generates public cynicism but also because it risks devaluing the victories which have been achieved in bringing real terrorists to justice. Exaggerating the terrorist threat for political purposes eventually creates more (Rose, Murphy, & Abrahms, 2007, p. 190).

Thirdly, and somewhat counter-intuitively, a population tends to ignore less lethal

violence against property whilst conversely high level violence directly against it personally may

allow the threat to be constructed as existential and demanding total opposition, so a mid-range

threat appears to correlate with shifts of opinion (Riesen, 2006, pp. 141-143). Axiological factors

may also impact. Baeriswyl (2008) proposed that Judaeo-Christian value systems with their

particular perspective on suffering and forgiveness tend to inhibit the forces of associated


societies. Mack (1975, p. 186) also proposes that in asymmetric conflict, imbalance of power

reduces the perceived threat within a strong state which allows underdog sympathies or at least

moral questioning to occur in a way which will not occur in the face of existential threat. A

further related idea is a legacy of the notion of divine will – if the fight is just we should win

quickly (Ivan Arreguín-Toft, 2006, p. 162). Finally, where robust actions are employed by the

state and have failed to deliver the benefits asserted this appears to have a role in decreasing

confidence in, and thus public support for, further action (Rosenthal, 2006, p. 353).

2.4.4 Summary

This section has reviewed the political-psychological literature, considered the impact of

SIT, legitimacy and reactance and highlighted the little that has been proposed about the factors

associated with effective repression, de-mobilisation and countermobilisation. From this, there is

ample argument and evidence that explains how emotion and other theoretical factors distort

human response and decision making towards robust policy decisions in ACV. To misquote

Rosen (2007), ‘the surprise is not that states sometimes make aggressive decisions in response to

ACV, the surprise is that they ever do anything else’. Mack (1975, p. 182) argues imbalance of

power leads to an overconfident belief that ‘might will prevail’ and failure to assess and plan.

This becomes a particular vulnerability (Berry, 1987, p. 9) when it permits a government to ‘treat

power as a possession or capability independent of the relationship in which it is to be exercised’

and use ‘physical force to punish or shape’ (Hills, 2006, pp. 623, 629). Overreaction is more

likely when the state morally frames itself as righteous and the insurgent to be the epitome of evil

(Berry, 1987, p. 9). ‘Citizens are at risk of manipulation—being made angry enough to accept

aggressive policies (which seem more likely to succeed) or being made anxious enough to accept

precautionary ones’ (2005, p. 137). SIT, legitimacy and reactance connect well theoretically to

this and although most research has been on Blue mobilisation, the explanations indicate possible

processes of Blue counter-mobilisation and crucially for this thesis, Red counter-mobilisation.

More generally, there is an argument that anger is a more likely to be the driver to instrumental

ACV than anxiety. The thrust of this knowledge is compatible with addressing the gaps

identified in the previous section:

The reasons that we behave this way may be rooted in the way we process information – policymakers are predisposed to believe hawks more than doves – preferences built into the fabric of the human mind (Kahneman & Renshon, 2007, p. 34).


2.5 SECTION E: RATIONALE AND THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK

This section states the rationale for the research, confirms the coherence of the proposed

I-Syndrome and draws from key ideas of the literature (previously summarised by sections) to

purpose-build the theoretical23 perspective that is essential24 for (case study) analysis (Anfara &

Mertz, 2006, p. xxii). It presents four constructs or ‘working theories and models’ and for each

indicates how they are derived from ‘guiding theory’ and other concepts encountered in the

literature, highlights relevant gaps in the research and then amplifies key aspects. They are:

The Iatrogenic Phenomenon

ACV Applied

Legitimacy and Support

Reactance Support Shifts

Based on these theoretical constructs, a series of major sub-queries was evolved that

addressed the broader aspects of the research question: does coercion repress? However, a

theoretical foundation for investigating the mechanisms at work is in ACV was also required. A

new construct and sub-queries were developed around the systems model of insurgency, so

completing the theoretical framework.

2.5.1 Rationale

The fundamental justification for this investigation is a series of gaps in the existing

research. The ‘macro gap’ is that the broad question of the relative effectiveness of robust and

restrained approaches is unresolved. Similarly, beneath this, many processes of state and

constituency responses to violence are theorised and formally modelled, yet both state reactions

to ACV and constituency support for insurgents have had little empirical investigation. The

circumstances under which violent repressive state action is or is not ‘effective’ in coercively

reducing support for insurgents is unexplored. That is the specific ‘gap’ that this thesis fills.

Filling this small gap will allow the larger ones to be better addressed and provide strong

evidence to support or refute the idea of an I-Syndrome.

There are four related reasons why counter-productive behaviour in asymmetric conflict

is a phenomenon deserving investigation. It:

represents failure25 by the state,

23 Theory here assumes Fawcett’s (1999, p. 4) broad definition: ‘a set of relatively concrete and specific concepts and describing or linking propositions’. The ‘theory framework’ adapts Fawcett’s ideas to span a progression from an abstracted ‘conceptual model’ (or canopy of ideas), to ‘guiding theory’ to specific ‘working theories’. These working theories or models are the tools that shape the research sub-questions, logical linkage and analysis. 24 They follow Yin (1994) to argue that where there is no suitable comprehensive theory evident in the research literature, one must be purpose built. 25 As the relative size of weak adversaries decreases, the argument that they only achieve success through reactions to their actions becomes increasingly powerful. It follows that significant success on their part is logically a ‘failure’ by the stronger, deserving of investigation.


occurs as a matter of choice,

is driven more by value systems than judgement; and

is often well obscured26.

2.5.2 Iatrogenic Effect and I-Syndrome

This literature review has broadly supported the notion proposed at the outset that there

may be an innate difference between a stronger actor’s reaction to irregular violence and that of

‘Westphalian’ symmetrical violence: rationality seems suspended. This axiological and

psychological effect seems linked to perceptions of unfairness and the breaching of cultural

norms. The proposition is, therefore, that there is a phenomenon of counter-productive action by

the strong, flowing from inappropriate policy, responses and over-reactions. Fromkin’s (1975)

‘reactions on actions’ give weak adversaries the publicity, credibility and support that they need

to prosper. ‘I-Syndrome’ refers to an intervention flowing from the decisions of high-status state

actors, whose intentions are portrayed as for the ‘greater good’, that ultimately prove to be

harmful or contrary to state interests. The concept of I-Syndrome encompasses both the decision

to execute the intervention and the responses within various constituencies that lead to

counterproductive result. It is postulated that I-Syndrome is driven by structural imbalance of

power and psycho-emotional effects, especially over-confidence and anger.

In order to provide a basis for future development of this concept, this study will look

below the I-Syndrome and away from the often decisive desertion of the Blue constituency in

order to study the question of suppression or counter mobilisation of the Red constituency by

repression; it is belief in the utility of such coercion that provides a ‘rationalising justification’ for

presumed iatrogenic irrationality.

2.5.3 The Applied Construct of ACV

The ‘applied construct of ACV’ is an explanation of the operation of this earlier defined

use of violence. It is built from disparate but well established concepts and guiding theory

encountered in Section A’s exploration of strategic interpretations, with key guidance being

Maoist revolutionary theory, and Record’s synthesis of other theories of asymmetric outcomes.

ACV is a fundamentally political and indirect (rather than military) struggle within

which Red actor violence pursues eventual change by shifting political support in one or more

(often geographically discrete) constituencies. Two major strategies may be variously applied:

‘Resistance expansion strategy’ focuses on using violence within a political struggle to

build Red support in the ‘theatre constituency’ sufficiently to progress beyond ACV and

26 Military failures in conventional war tend to have highly visible consequences whereas counter-productive actions in asymmetric conflict may not be obvious at the time. Furthermore, in a political contest of influence, there will be good reasons for disguising them.


(typically with external support) militarily challenge and defeat Blue (the original Maoist

approach).

‘Cost coercion strategy’ seeks to make Blue leaders change policy through a process of

political as opposed to personal coercion27. The threat lever is the psychological and

economiccost:

o where the political ‘extension struggle’ again uses violence to build and sustain

Red support in their own ‘theatre constituency’, but in this case support only

needs to be sufficient (again typically with external assistance) to maintain a

level of violence that is ultimately intolerable to Blue; and

o where Blue is a democracy there may be a parallel political struggle in the

‘domestic constituencies’ where Blue strives to retain sufficient political support

to oppose Red. This can be the decisive struggle, and may be waged by Red by

proxy through third parties using the psychological shaping effects of within a

geographically separate ‘theatre constituency’; Red may not even apply

violence elsewhere.

ACV is a long term process as it must overcome two ‘inertias’. Firstly, reactance may

cause the population to oppose Red desired change. Secondly, for Blue to perceive a non-

existential threat as intolerable, perception of likelihood must be kept high. Continued violence

must seem inevitable, requiring the ACV to continue despite successive plausible Blue

countermeasures, especially robust ones. Resolution of ACV thus depends upon two separate but

linked ‘motivations’. Firstly, the will of the Red identification community to sustain violent

action and secondly, the will of the Blue government to withstand the demands of the Red

insurgent, sometimes moderated by a Blue electorate.

2.5.4 Descriptive Constructs of Legitimacy and Support

Since this thesis concerns shifts of popular support, a clear conception of what this

means28 is vital. As has been discussed earlier, it must be measured in terms of observable

behaviours since internal preferences are speculative. Section A explained notions of insurgency

as a struggle for support as captured by Moore’s influence model and related ideas of ‘rational

actors’ and insurgency as a struggle for legitimacy following Lomperis. This thesis ‘anchors’

27 ‘Personal coercive influence’ is where the person or group to be influenced is personally threatened or personally required to respond to an immediate threat against others (such as decide how to respond to a kidnapping. Personal coercion works because the threat to the individual or whole group is believed to be credible and represent an ‘unacceptable risk’. Risk theory suggests that this arises from the perception of a product of ‘likelihood’ and ‘severity of consequence’, with criminal punishment deterrence theories suggesting that likelihood and celerity as the major factors. State leaders typically are well defended, so this is difficult to achieve. Attacks on leaders may generate reactance effects from the target, or if successful, from successor leaders. 28 The notion of support encompasses a range of inferences from ‘preference’ through ‘encouragement’ to ‘assistance’ and is thus ambiguous in a context of coercion


popular support by relating it to the Weberian understanding that legitimacy exists where the

subject concedes the authority of a superior entity and obeys without coercion; the

operationalisable test is obedience. Support is secure when a subject recognises a single authority

and obeys its direction or request, recognising that this may cease under threats from an

opponent. We know from Milgram (1974) and others that where legitimacy exists obedience

even to unethical direction is high. Therefore failure to obey an authority unless there is an

associated threat, and even more so disobedience in the face of such threat, is a very clear

indication of lost legitimacy.

Importantly, an individual’s instinct29 to obey a (Weberian) legitimate authority does not

mean30 their preferences align with an authority’s, although that is what everyday usage of the

term suggests. Popular support is shown on a spectrum as at Figure 9, where individuals

recognise the legitimacy of Red, Blue or neither faction, with a sub-division amongst secure

supporters of either, acknowledging that there may be many who obey, yet politically dissent.

Weberian Blue Legitimacy (Supports Blue absent

Coercion)

Neither Effectively Legitimate (Obey only when coerced)

Weberian Red Legitimacy (Supports Red absent

Coercion)

Blue Approvers

Blue Dissenters

Anti‐red/pro‐Blue Neutralists

Anti Blue/pro‐red

Red Dissenters

Red Approvers

Figure 9: A Weberian Spectrum of Popular Support

This dissent on policy is assumed within pluralist democracy, but also exists within an

ACV movement where not suppressed. However, the bar of ‘obedience without coercion’ is a

high one even in stable societies, since most have an omnipresent coercive mechanism of law

and order. Its rare removal, in instances such as a police strike, demonstrates that there is a

proportion of any community that is constantly coercively constrained. In the uncertainty and

competing pressures of an ACV conflict, the ‘unconstrained’ group is presumably much

expanded.

In practice, ‘legitimacy’ or ‘secure support’ describes only the fervent supporters on each

side and that the contest takes place amongst the large middle group who may never accept the

Weberian legitimacy of either faction and whose motives may variously be pro or anti, or a

mixture.

29 The construct allows that a subject may consider that the authority has lost some degree of moral, religious or other legitimacy, and may feel antipathy or political opposition yet continues to feel obliged to obey within the parameters normal for that society 30 For example, at any one time most people in democratic states disagree with particular policies of the current government, yet they still accept its legitimacy.


To better define and describe these various nuances of popular support we can use a 3 x

3 matrix that describes support in terms of observable behaviours. We assume least support for a

faction when an individual or group resists, or more commonly acts to evade, coercion by that

faction. When they defer to such coercion their support is ambiguous, and when they support the

faction in the absence of its effective coercion, we assume most support. The interaction of these

responses allows us a much more useful set of nine descriptors of support (Figure 10). Thus

neutralists show opposition to both sides, pragmatists defer equally to both as required and

dissenters are those who show ‘obedience’ to one faction but promote policies advocated by the

other. Realists are those whose un-coerced inclination is to support one faction but defer readily

to the coercion of the other, whilst ‘contras’ are distinguished by resistance or evasion of one side

and deference to the other. Importantly, these are behavioural descriptors, not definitive

indications of true preferences. If Blue is a force that operates strictly to the rule of law and Red

is extremely violent, individuals inclined to support Blue may well display hostility to Blue and

support for Red, and true preference will not be revealed until the threat of Red coercion is

removed.

Figure 10: Matrix of Support Behaviour Descriptors

When ACV is understood as a contest for support, this matrix provides a tool to track its

shifts, and also forces reflection on the relative impacts of factional coercion. In particular, it

demands an attempt to distinguish between the reasons that an individual shows deference to a

faction and highlights that Blue may confuse symptoms of realism with contra-Blue and vice

versa. It is particularly important to note that when a faction successfully limits its coercive

behaviour to maintain moral and applied legitimacy, in a constituency that is subject to a

violently coercive opponent, constituency deference to that opponent may cause apparent support

to rise, whereas in fact this may simply be a ‘realist behaviour’ shift to conceal true support.

Mistaken or negligent coercion of those for whom the state thinks it has lost legitimacy is a

profound error. When the state coerces in order to achieve compliance and its victims include

Supports Blue absent

Blue Coercion

Defers to Blue

Coercion

Resists or evades

Blue Coercion

Resists or evades

Red Coercion

Defers to Red

Coercion

Supports Red absent

Red Coercion

Blue‐loyalist

Red‐loyalist

Red‐realist

Blue‐realist

Contra‐red

Contra‐blue Neutralist

Pragmatist

Blue‐Diss‐

enter Red‐

Dissenter


more than the unequivocally and pro-actively disloyal, it is indicating to the greater constituency

that it does not believe that the state has their recognition of legitimacy. This becomes self

fulfilling.

2.5.5 The Construct of Constituency Reactance Shift

The construct of reactance shift explains how violence shifts support ‘negatively’ in

ACV. This is most easily visualised by building on McCormick’s linear conception of a contest

for popular support that was encountered in section A. Onto this we can superimpose the notion

of reverberative31 mechanisms for shifting such support; extensive support for such effects was

described in the following two sections, (particularly by contemporary adversaries) whilst section

D explained the psychological basis for reactance. As a result:

... any acts undertaken by the state or the insurgent group usually have the local populace as their witnesses if not participants. This is important because the same tactics that reduce the immediate threat from actual insurgents may also increase sympathy for the insurgency, increase the effectiveness of recruiting and therefore enhance the insurgency overall (C. D. Moore, 2008, p. 36).

Cronin (2009, p. 19) makes a similar point to Moore that reactions by a state to ‘counter

one function may founder on another’. Assembling these notions, the construct of constituency

reactance proposes that:

Legitimacy or ‘secure support’ depends on trust and so takes time to establish or re-

establish, but once achieved is resistant to being moved.

Hearts and minds and other political non-violent action require great efforts for relatively

limited and slow shifts in support.

Robust and violent acts that impinge on a constituency shift net support strongly against

the perpetrator because, regardless of the damage inflicted on combatants,

o even the ‘best case’ of successful discriminate violence against a universally

detested faction only generates relatively small shifts of support in an

opponent’s constituency in favour of the perpetrator, however

o all except the most surgical and restrained violence may cause outrage and

generate large reactance shifts against the perpetrator.

The construct is shown schematically in Figure 11.

Insurgency is conceived as a contest to shift a constituency ‘ball’ towards alternative

positions of legitimacy along an uneven surface which represents the effort required to establish

either extreme and an ‘established’ cultural predisposition of neither adversary having legitimacy,

which is often the case during ACV.

31 Provocation, state response and indirect effects.


Figure 11: The Construct of Reactance Constituency Shift

The influence potential of non-violent political actions is shown as smaller arrows, with

Blue slightly larger, reflecting its typical resource advantage. The potential of Red violence to

drive constituency shifts support towards Blue is shown as a larger arrow indicating the effect of

reactance, but the largest arrow represents the potential of Blue violence to generate reactance

effects towards Red, again reflecting Blue’s larger scale of operation. This model applies to

constituencies of either hue, though the ‘surface profile’ will vary.

Towards Enquiry

The key point from the above construct is that notwithstanding the unquestioned

function of violence in attacking adversary capability, and in compelling compliance in areas

under established control, applying it can shift underlying constituency support in ‘either’

direction. Any change in legitimacy is usually ‘reactant’ and thus negative for the acting party.

Certainly such shifts are potentially faster and further than other effects, for established

psychological reasons. It follows that the highest payoff use of violence to build popular support

for Red is likely to be to induce the excesses of Blue, particularly as attacks on Blue cannot

themselves be militarily decisive. For Blue, the logic is not so clear cut, as violent defeat of Red

is logically possible, but if this cannot be swiftly and discriminately assured, then Blue violence

is likely to generate counterproductive shifts in underlying support. The largest shifts in support

towards Blue from violence are likely to flow from Red actions; however Blue is constrained

because manifest failure to provide security can also cause loss of support.

This ‘reactance constituency shift’ construct deals with underlying preferences not actual

coerced behaviour (the state may still have sufficient control capacity to render latent Red

support irrelevant, so we need to consider the aggregate effects). However, at some point

reactance may shift those preferences enough to shift actual behaviour. Our matrix construct has

Blue Legitimacy

and Support

Red Legitimacy

and Support

Net Influence of Blue

Violence

Net Infl. of Red Nonviolent Action Influence of Blue Nonviolent Action

Net Influence of Red Violence

Constituency


already shown that behavioural compliance shifts may occur in more than two directions. It is

plausible that unless control is total, attempts to violently coerce may typically induce some to

comply, whilst concurrently reactance drives a small group to oppose and a larger group to

withdraw willing or even unwilling cooperation.

Building on this notion of reactance expanded above, we can develop an investigative

construct leading to main hypotheses and questions as follows.

2.5.6 A Construct to Examine Coercive Effectiveness

The fundamental enquiry of this thesis is whether, and under what circumstances, robust

state action increases or decreases effective popular support for insurgents. In detail this must

consider:

QA Does indiscriminate and repressive state violence deter support for Red more than

constituency reactance decreases support for Blue?

QB If not, does such loss of constituency support for Blue translate to increased latent

support for Red?

QC If increased latent constituency support for Red occurs, can it still translate to

effective support for Red in a repressive environment?

The processes operating within an insurgency are complex, with many unique variables,

such that answers to these questions might resist generalisation and only be answerable on a case

by case basis. That exercise will doubtless still be instructive, however we seek a broader

answer, and this requires us to stay with the broader question. We shall apply the following

logic. From previous definitions we assume:

When and where the surveillance and enforcement capacity of the state is

overwhelming, then Blue can exert a state of compulsion and coercion is irrelevant.

When the state has no capacity for surveillance and enforcement, only those who

consider the state legitimate obey.

In between these extremes there is an assumed relationship between increased capacity

for surveillance and enforcement and compliance with coercion. As capacity increases, those

disinclined to support the state can increasingly be coerced to comply. This proposition is tested

by the following hypothesis:

H1 Blue ‘impellent’ coercion will be more effective than ‘suppressive’ or ‘deterrent’

coercion (because in the first case, non-compliance is far more evident for any given

level of surveillance).


The relationship between increased Blue capacity for surveillance and enforcement, and

Red constituency compliance with Blue coercion is unknown. The point at which individuals or

groups with various degrees of loyalty to the state comply will presumably broadly vary with the

level of state capability relative to the population. Within this, Blue operations may be more

effective or less effective in coercing compliance (‘effectiveness’ is taken as a significant

reduction in the level of insurgent activity or of their numbers or both). More effective

operations are those that achieve better compliance from those more strongly opposed for a

smaller capacity for surveillance and enforcement. This is shown by the two dashed arcs shown

in Figure 12.

Figure 12: The relationship between capacity for surveillance and enforcement and compliance

Notwithstanding the complexity of the factors operating, it appears that if robust and

repressive measures are ‘effective’, then where they are used, we would expect to see them

associated with broader compliance at lower levels of state capability than where restrained

methods are applied.

The Null Hypotheses are therefore:

(N) H2 The use of robust and punitive methods by Blue will generally be associated

with a net reduction in support for insurgents.

(N) H3 The use of robust and punitive methods by Blue will see a marked increase

in suppression at some lower force ratio than the saturation levels required for

compulsion.

Alternatively if robust and punitive measures are not effective then:

Compliance

Point

according to

Constituent

degree of

opposition to

the State

State capacity for surveillance and

enforcement

Compulsion

State

opponent

Loyalist

Uncontrolled

O+ More Effective

Operations

O‐ Less Effective Operations


H4 The use of robust and punitive measure by Blue will only see suppression occur

at levels approaching saturation.

Support Shift and Influence Questions

To test these hypotheses in the light of the theoretical constructs, we will specify major

questions to investigate cases. The first two questions frame the thrust of the research question.

The third tests the question of linearity of support shifts and the fourth tests the factors the

literature suggests are relevant.

Q1 How was Red and Blue support broadly shifted by Blue actions and policies?

Q2 How did popular support influence the outcome and duration of the conflict?

Q3 To what extent did shifts in support away from Blue become shifts towards Red and

vice versa?

Q4 What proposed factors from the literature [if any] were present in the conflict and

did they shift at key times related to:

Blue Constituency Desertion?

Red Constituency Suppression?

Red Constituency Counter-mobilisation?

The first three questions address ‘what’ happens but do not necessarily consider ‘why’ in

any detail. The fourth question does consider ‘why’ but only tests already proposed factors. For

better understanding we must explore the mechanisms at work, and a suitable theoretical

approach is found in work described earlier.

2.5.7 Examining Mechanisms with the Systems Model of Insurgency

The detailed processes of waging and countering insurgency are complex, as most

understandings reflect. However the simplicity of the underlying concept of the systems model

(Leites & Wolf, 1970) suggests it as a tool for examination of the processes or mechanisms by

which counterinsurgents may defeat their adversaries.

As explained in Figure 2, they modelled insurgency as comprising flows through four

elements: internal support, external support, production capacity and activity output and

identified that counterinsurgents must influence all four.

Their original insurgency system can be reconfigured as the red boxes on the left hand

side of Figure 13. To this, we can add blue boxes and arrows representing the four corresponding

counterinsurgency efforts, (modifying and simplifying Leites and Wolf original concept (p. 76-

79) that treated internal and external support together and merging their separate consideration

of attacking and degrading outputs). In contemporary terms, these are Blue ‘Lines of Operation’

(LOE) that reduce ‘output value’, ‘production capacity’, ‘external support’ and ‘internal support’.


Figure 13: Mechanisms of Influencing an Insurgency System

Leites and Wolf suggested a range of indicative Blue actions that constituted the LOE.

The author distilled and further developed a set of ‘operational effects’ that might contribute to

each LOE. For example, reducing insurgent activity output value was broken down into six

effects including ‘protection and separation’, ‘target dislocation’ and ‘operational attrition’.

These effects are listed within the blue boxes in Figure 13 but are expanded in Chapter 3,

Method.

Each LOE suggests a major research question that if answered in terms of the effects will

give us an understanding of mechanisms. The questions are:

Insurgent

Activity

Output

Insurgent

Production

Capacity

Internal

Support

External

Support

REDUCING OUTPUT VALUE (Q6)

Protection & Separation

Target dislocation

Operational attrition

Capacity degradation

Constituency harm deterrence

Activity Devaluation

REDUCING PRODUCTION CAPACITY (Q7)

Decapitation

Disruption

REDUCING EXTERNAL SUPPORT (Q8)

Demotivation

Isolation

REDUCING INTERNAL SUPPORT (Q9)

Enforcive control

Coercive Control

Counter‐coercion

Dislocation/Isolation

Exhaustion

Cooption

Increasing blue legitimacy

Diversion

I

n

f

l

u

e

n

c

e

The Insurgency

System

Means of Influencing the

Insurgency System


Q5 What mechanisms reduced the ‘output value’ of insurgent activities?

Q6 What mechanisms reduced the ‘production capacity’ for insurgent activities?

Q 7 What mechanisms reduced external support (inputs) for production of insurgent

activities?

Q 8 What mechanisms reduced internal support for production of insurgent activities?

A further control question is also logically suggested:

Q 9 What mechanisms increased active support for state activities?

This research is focussed on internal support and for any particular case examining the

comprehensive list of effects under Q9, will give understanding of relevant mechanisms.

However by answering all five questions, an understanding of the relative importance of internal

support compared to the other four LOE will be gained.

This section has presented five theoretical constructs and developed them via several

hypotheses into the nine sub-queries that will frame the analyses in the next chapter.

2.6 SUMMARY

This chapter has surveyed a wide range of literature and taken a progressively closer

look at strategic conceptions of ACV, State response to ACV and underpinning psychology and

mechanisms of response. It has then synthesised key notions into the theoretical framework

which has articulated the research sub-questions. The methods of investigation can now be

described.

3Chapter 3: The Methods

3.1 GENERAL

This chapter recaps the enquiry, outlines the methodological foundation of this research

in the RAND Corporation VTFS study, and explains in detail how the two different but linked

methods were applied. The structure is:

The VTFS Method Foundations

The VTFS Data Re-analysis Method

Case Analysis Method

Ethics, Limitations and Validity

The research question (para. 1.2.4) can be paraphrased as: ‘does very robust state action

cause reduced support for insurgents and what are the mechanisms involved?’ This can be

answered by detailed analysis of a small number of defensibly selected conflicts, but the results

would be very case-specific without triangulation via a larger-n approach. As described in

Chapter 1, the failure of two pilot studies was overcome by the discovery of Paul, Clarke and

Grill’s VTFS (2010b). This work combined thirty conventional case analyses with Ragin’s

Qualitative Comparative Analysis (QCA) and bivariate analysis. QCA32 is a software tool for

case-based comparative historical analysis based on Boolean algebra that determines the possible

influence of combinations of large numbers of factors on case outcomes. Because this study

concerns only a relatively small number of factors, it was possible to use simpler manual

bivariate approaches that assess the impact of any particular factor on any particular outcome.

These are described below.

Crucially, for this thesis the VTFS constructed a binary dataset that, for each of the 30

conflict cases, had coded 76 possible outcome-explanatory factors. Amongst these were factors

that might test this study’s research question: Blue use of two robust measures and four factors

that is a proxy for reducing Red internal support. The VTFS factors that were the variables or

‘test factors’ for this study are:

COIN force employed escalating repression

32 For a subject set of cases, factors of interest and outcomes of interest are all coded present or absent (0 or 1) and input into the programme. A so-called ‘truth table’ of all possible combinations of factors and outcomes is created by the software. This is then reduced by first removing all combinations of factors and outcome that do not occur in the data, then Boolean algebra is applied to determine patterns of relationships and determine the sets of factors that are ‘prime implicants’, meaning their causal role is supported. These sets do not themselves establish causality, but narrow the focus of further qualitative examination.


COIN force employed collective punishment

Important internal support to insurgents was significantly reduced

Insurgents were unable to maintain or grow force size

Insurgents' ability to replenish resources was significantly diminished

COIN forces received substantial intelligence from population in area of conflict

The VTFS therefore offered a credible and peer-reviewed dataset that could be

reanalysed with Paul et al.’s bivariate methods to test for the general effects of robust action on

insurgent support. This offered a generalisable, if not conclusive, answer to the research

question. More categorical evidence would then be found through case study. VTFS data also

offered a defensible and logical (Gerring, 2007, p. 86) basis for selecting the two conflicts in

which robust measures are most closely associated with loss of support by the insurgents. These

are the cases in which the use of repression appears least counterproductive and they are,

therefore, the ‘most difficult’ cases for demonstrating an I-Syndrome, thus addressing the

perennial critique of selection bias.

The case analysis was done using George and Bennett’s (2005) structured focussed

method where a historical case narrative is developed and interrogated using a ‘structured’ menu

of sub-questions that are ‘focussed’ on the research question. This was supplemented with

‘process tracing’ which involves describing and comparing possible causal chains to test

explanations of interest (Bennet, 2008, p. 702; Gerring, 2007, p. 172). In this thesis this was

done by examining and comparing alternative mechanisms of reducing insurgent effectiveness

based on the mechanism sub-queries evolved from the systems model of insurgency (Leites &

Wolf, 1970, p. 35). The use of a model that has historically been used to explain and argue the

effectiveness of robust measures on cost-benefit grounds represents a similarly ‘most difficult’

test of the I-syndrome or ‘restraint’ argument. Both methods are explained in full below.

3.1.1 The VTFS

The study that provides the foundation of the analysis in this thesis was conducted by

RAND at the height of the Iraqi insurgency to apply evidence-based methods to guide US policy,

testing the comparative effectiveness of a range of possible approaches to counterinsurgency.

Paul et al.’s two part VTFS employed a combination of systematic cross-case analysis (2010b)

and conventional historical case studies (2010a) to analyse the 30 worldwide insurgencies most

recently resolved and draw a range of conclusions. The innovative cross-case method was, as

explained above, adapted from Ragin’s (1987, 2008) QCA.

The VTFS makes significant contributions to the study of COIN, particularly by

empirically demonstrating the need for governments to maintain a suite of ‘good practices’ to

prevail (C. Paul et al., 2010b, p. xix). Three findings are particularly important for this thesis.

Methods Page 71

Repressive actions are shown to be ‘bad practices’ that may lead to temporary advantage but not

ultimate success (p. xix). This has obvious relevance as empirical support for the I-Syndrome

thesis. There was also clear evidence against the utility of the strategy of blatant provocation

(coded by VTFS as delegitimation) by Red (p. 77), which by reciprocal logic infers that

‘unprovoked’ Blue repression is particularly counterproductive. This strongly supports the idea

discussed earlier that any Red strategy of provocation must be disguised. More challengingly,

VTFS found that popular support is only the centre of gravity33 where the insurgents gain their

logistic support from the population rather than from external sources (p. xxiii). This means that

the I-Syndrome effect may be relatively unimportant in some such cases and therefore accounts

for cases where robust measures do not prove counterproductive.

The great value of VTFS is not that its findings happen to inform the tentative theory of

the thesis, rather that it offers:

a semi-quantitative data set suitable for re-analysis to test the effects of robust

measures on support,

a defensible basis to select insurgencies for case analysis; as well as

a convenient analytic subdivision of such cases into phases.

In common with the RAND study, this research uses QCA to analyse the VTFS dataset

and triangulates with case studies. However, this thesis’ research question is much more specific

than the RAND work. The focus is on a smaller set of variables, allowing use of the simpler bi-

variate QCA to examine the impact of robust state tactics.

3.2 RE-ANALYSIS OF RAND DATA

This section explains how the VTFS data was re-analysed, describing the bivarite and

case selection methods in detail. An appreciation of the generation and analysis of the data in the

RAND project is necessary to understand this study’s exploitation of the same material.

The VTFS case-set is the geographically diverse and fully representative universe of

insurgencies (defined in Chapter 1) that were started and were resolved during 1978-2008. Each

of the 30 insurgencies was divided into two to five phases associated with major changes in the

course of the conflict, so distinguishing 96 phases. A narrative description of each case was then

written to gain familiarity with the conflict. To create their binary dataset the RAND team first

identified 77 factors possibly related to success in counterinsurgency such as ‘COIN force

employed escalating repression’ based on a literature study and the examination of the cases. For

each of the 86 phases, the presence/absence of each factor of success was coded.

Bivariate methods were used to test the strength of the relationship between each factor

and conflict win/lose outcomes. The information was then used to systematically create and

33 Crucially important


order 57 of these factors into 20 different sets that represented ‘approaches’ to COIN. On this

foundation software-based, QCA multivariate analysis was run across the ‘approaches’ in search

of ‘prime implicants’ for win or lose outcomes. The VTFS results reflected the complexity of the

interaction of the many factors, leading to fairly broad but strong conclusions.

3.2.1 Statistical Re-analysis

As a first step of this study the VTFS dataset was re-examined using conventional

statistical analysis tools, in full knowledge that it is too small to draw any firm conclusions, but in

search of patterns or associations that would indicate issues deserving of attention during a

detailed case study. Given this speculative purpose, a full explanation of procedure is not offered

here but output examples are provided at Annex A.

Basically, the RAND dataset was converted to input it into the IBM SPSS programme

and Analysis of Variation procedures were run to identify possible associations between test

factors. Results were generally unremarkable and aligned with the RAND team QCA findings,

however two variables have ‘significant’ results on a Blue COIN win: one34 of which was ‘COIN

force efforts resulted in increased costs for the insurgents’. This is important as it is the core

premise of the robust Vietnam-era pacification strategy and highlights the need to test cost-

benefit theory within the case analyses.

In a similar vein, a Classification and Regression Tree (CART) procedure was run with

various combinations of factors. The goal of CART is to create a model that predicts the value of

a target variable based on several input variables. The exercise produced one sightly remarkable

result. A model derived for the two factors ‘important internal support reduced/employment of

escalating repression’ suggested that when ‘repression works’ it might do so in association35

with the unsurprising factor ‘COIN force was strong’ or more curiously ‘Amnesty measures were

used’. There were other progressively weaker expected associations including ‘government

competence’, ‘receipt of intelligence’ and then (in logical contradiction) ‘avoiding excessive

collateral damage’. ‘Amnesty’ and ‘discrimination during repression’ were therefore added to

the list of items to inform the analytic questions for the case studies.

The main value of the dataset was however to be re-analysed using bivariate methods to

draw wider inferences about the use of robust measures.

3.2.2 Bivariate Analysis

The bivariate analysis for this thesis addressed the broad research issue of robust action

reducing support and especially the sub-query: ‘how was Red support broadly shifted by Blue

actions and polices?’ The analysis adapted the VTFS approach and data (C. Paul et al., 2010b) to

34 The other was: ‘COIN force employed local militias or irregulars or engaged in/enabled community policing’. 35 There were other progressively weaker associations including government competence, receipt of intelligence and then (in logical contradiction) avoiding excessive collateral damage.

Methods Page 73

a much tighter and deeper focus on fewer variables. It considered the six variables or ‘test

factors’ listed above. It took an indicator of robust measures, applied alone or in conjunction

with the other robust measure, and tested for its effect on each of the four indicators of popular

support for insurgents in turn.

This Bivariate or ‘pairwise’ comparison of test factors avoided computer analysis, yet

greater analytical resolution could be achieved by considering various combinations and

aggregations of the factors as well as by counting observations over all 86 phases rather than just

the 30 conflicts as done in VTFS. This approach permitted tentative hypothesis testing and

allowed strong generalizable inferences to be drawn about the impact of robust measures, which

then could be tested within the detailed cases.

3.2.3 VTFS Bivariate Analysis Procedure

Bivariate analysis is primarily a visualisation tool that can be used to demonstrate the

relationship between any two variables, or as we shall refer to them here, factors. Essentially it

allows us to say how one factor acts on another: how often the presence or absence of either

factor is associated with the presence or absence of the other. As an example, the relationship

between the application of repression and the reduction of support is explained with the aid of

Figure 14.

The green box displays the aggregate of the binary ‘count’ for all 96 phases. The relative

A 2 x 2 table is used to display the four possible conditions of the relationship between

the two factors. For any single phase ‘1’ in the appropriate quadrant describes the relationship.

In this case the blue box (left) describes the situation in a particular phase where repression has

been applied but support to insurgents is not reduced. Bivariate analysis is simply a means of

counting up how many times each of the four possible relationships occurs across the tested

sample. In the green box (right) we can see that when repression is applied (top two boxes)

support is reduced 8 times but is not reduced 61 times. When repression is not applied (lower

boxes) support also tends not to be reduced. The implications of this are discussed below.

Figure 14: Explanation of 2 x 2 Bivariate Display

Support Reduced

Support not

Reduced

Repression Applied

Repression not Applied

0 1

0 0

Support Reduced

Support not

Reduced

Repression Applied

Repression not Applied

8 61

4 13


We initially wished to re-analyse the VTFS dataset of 86 phases to test each of the two

robustness factors in turn against each of the four support factors in turn. The procedure

comprised three tasks. The first task was to create a master data sheet that conveniently

displayed all the data of interest. The second task was to create test factor sub tables that

summed the binary scores for the four possible descriptors for each combination of two test

factors. The third task was to display this data on a test factor association table for each pair of

test factors.

Task 1 – Create New Master Data Sheet

A copy of the VTFS MSExcel spread-sheet was downloaded and then edited down to

remove all but the six (yellow) rows representing ‘test factors’ of interest to this study but leaving

all the columns coding each case (grouped by phases) unchanged. On this ‘master’ table, for

each (yellow) ‘factor row’ another (grey) ‘inverse row’ or ‘DID NOT’ condition was inserted

beneath to simplify later steps. Figure 15 is a screenshot showing three of the original VTFS

factors (in yellow with grey numerals) and beneath each, it’s associated ‘DID NOT condition’ (in

grey with orange numerals).

Figure 15: Creating Master Data Sheet

For example, the red highlighted box shows the two rows that describe the escalating

repression condition for the third phase of the Afghanistan insurgency: there is a ‘0’ on the

yellow row line and a ‘1’ on the grey row beneath, meaning the ‘NOT’ condition applies. The

purpose of this repetition is to allow easy summing of the number of times a factor is present or

absent in all phases (Note: for clarity throughout these tables, on rows that are not original

RAND data, only the ‘present’ or ‘1’ coding is shown, with ‘0’ omitted.).

Task 2 - Create Factor Sub-Tables

A bivariate analysis of each interaction of two factors of interest requires summing the

four possible descriptor conditions across all phases. For each interaction, a fully worked sub-

table was created by copying down from the master table and inserting new coded rows.

Methods Page 75

Figure 16 shows the table for ‘escalating repression’ versus ‘internal support reduced’.

These two factors head the table at yellow rows 18 & 19 (from yellow master rows 2 & 6 in

Figure 15).

Using the same Afghanistan example, in the green box the top two factor rows show

zeros indicating that neither factor applied in this phase. Since the force did not employ

repression during this phase, repression has no association with ‘reduced internal support’. Less

obviously, because it is not employed in this phase, repression does not have a negative binary

condition so cannot (as conventional English language usage would expect) be ‘negatively

associated’ with ‘reduced internal support’ either.

Figure 16: Creating a Factor‐Interaction Sub‐Table

This is shown in the blue box by two blank spaces (representing zeros) on the two new

grey ‘repression associated’ descriptor rows 20 & 21 (because repression is not used there can be

no association). This may seem confusing but is best understood by plotting the valid association

(which will be with one of the two conditions associated with not employing repression).

The ‘did not employ repression’ row (from master row 3 in Figure 15) is inserted next at

pink row 22. Beneath this at yellow row 23, the original second factor ‘support reduced’ row

from row 19 is re-inserted. In the orange box at row 22 there is a ‘1’ indicating repression was

not employed, whilst row 23 indicates support was not reduced with a ‘0’. This then allows the

completion of the bottom two rows which represent the ‘no repression condition’. There is no

association between ‘no repression and ‘reduced internal support’ for this phase so a ‘0’ (left

blank) is inserted at row 24. However there is a negative association between ‘no repression

condition’ and reduced support, so a ‘1’ is inserted at row 25. This may be easier to understand if

one recalls that for any phase only one condition can apply.

By completing this exercise for all phases, the totals for each of the conditions (rows 20,

21, 24 & 25) can be summed in the ‘instances’ (CK) column on the right of the diagram in the

purple ovals.


Task 3 – Create 2x2 Factor Association Tables

Finally the summed coding’s for each pair of factors or aggregates were extracted from

the instances column on the sub-table and displayed on a 2 x 2 matrix as at Figure 17.

This example table shows that of the times that repression was used, in 8 instances this

was associated with reduced internal support for insurgents, but in 61 instances this was

associated with no reduction, (a ratio of 0.13). This superficially appears a very strong indication

that repression is counterproductive.

Figure 17: An example: The 2 x 2 Factor Association Table showing the Relationship between Repression and

Support Reduction

The absence of repression is however also only associated with reduction of support in 4

instances and is associated with non-reduction of support in 14 instances, (a ratio of 0.30). This

suggests a ‘natural’ tendency for internal support not to be reduced. Thus the two inferences

must be ‘read’ together, such that the inference of the first is qualified by the inference of the

second. This is done by comparing the ratios. In this case, the relationship between 0.13 and

0.30 tells us that ‘repression’ is slightly less than half as likely to ‘reduce’ internal support as ‘not

applying repression’. A series of such bivariate analyses was used to answer the first part of the

research question, ‘does robust action cause reduced support?’

3.2.4 Basic and Aggregated Analysis and Reporting

The bivariate analysis first tested both of the robust factors for all four support factors, as

just described. These eight analyses are displayed with the aid of eight factor association tables

in Chapter 8. Subsequently more complex analyses were carried out that variously aggregated

both robust and support factors. Although this process offers further insights, it is potentially

confusing and explanation is best explained with the aid of the actual examples and so is left to

Chapter 8. The bivariate analysis broad findings now demanded a more detailed investigation of

the processes involved. This required case analysis.

3.2.5 Case Selection

To choose the conflict cases for detailed study, the dataset was examined to compare the

two factors representative of Blue robust action (COIN force employed escalating repression and

COIN force employed collective punishment) and the two factors most representative of reduced

Red popular support (important internal support to insurgents significantly reduced and

Methods Page 77

Insurgents unable to maintain or grow force size). Where both of the robust factors coincided

with both factors indicating reduced support, the probability that robust measures are reducing

support is highest. Causality is possible, though not established.

Two historical cases, the ‘Red win’ of an alliance of insurgents including the Khmer

Rouge (KR) in Kampuchea and the ‘Blue win’ of Turkey against the Turkish Workers Party

(PKK), show at least one phase with full coincidence and they both fortuitously have other

phases where both robust factors are present whilst neither factor of reducing support applies.

This can be seen in Figure 18, which shows relevant coding for three conflict case examples from

the dataset. On the horizontal axis, robust factors are highlighted in red and reduction of support

in green. On the vertical axis the first four phases are from Afghanistan (chosen simply as a

contrasting example) where there are robust measures but no reduction of popular support. In the

subsequent Kampuchean and Turkish cases, the alignment and non-alignment of robust and

support factors is highlighted.

Figure 18: Case Selection using VTFS Dataset

This factor relationship provides the possibility of within-case comparison of phases to

isolate alternative independent variables. Within-case comparison thus also supports cross-case

examination, but the most potent analytical opportunity arises because these conflict cases both

represent a theoretically ‘most difficult test’ (Soifer, 2009, p. 4) of the counterproductive response

construct as well as incidentally being two of the three most intense twentieth century

insurgencies for ideology, scale and ferocity (Özdağ, 2003, p. 2).


3.3 CASE ANALYSIS

This section explains how the case analysis was conducted. It discusses the four stages

that comprised the case analysis: the analysis procedure, the data sources, the development of the

analytical instrument, and the reporting of results under the headings of distinct sub-analyses.

For case analysis, George and Bennett’s (2005, p. 67) ‘structured focussed’ method was

chosen as it has been successfully used in similar fields. This uses a ‘structured’ menu of sub-

questions that are ‘focussed’ on the research question to interrogate a specially developed

historical case narrative. Internal validity is enhanced by applying a process tracing approach,

which Gerring describes as assembling multiple types of otherwise non-comparable evidence and

usually describing causal chains (2007, p. 173).

3.3.1 Case Analysis Procedure

The procedure for case analysis essentially involved preparing an analytical instrument,

writing a narrative that addressed robust actions and shifts of support and then systematically

analysing that narrative. After the preparation of the instrument (described below), there were

four stages:

Stage 1 – Overview, Structure Narrative and Collect Data

The first stage for each conflict was to read several of the major texts for orientation and

then create a document skeleton for both the background and narrative. This provided headings

under which historical context, main actors and issues would be explained, and temporally

divided the VTFS phases into shorter periods around which to write the narrative. Crucially, the

framework highlighted the phases between which shifts in support and or robust measures

occurred, as these ‘phase-shifts’ were where the analysis would concentrate. With the scope of

the case now roughly defined, a data search began. Initially this used mainly library web-based

tools searching under topic headings which gradually shifted to citation tracing searches.

Potential data sources were entered into a citation manager and links or a copy downloaded.

Stage 2 - Collate and Write Narrative Chapters

The second stage was to create the case narratives by systematically reading the sources

and extracting cited notes directly into a working document under the appropriate heading,

starting with those sources relevant to the background. When sufficient data was assembled the

background was written, a process taking many weeks and much further reading as gradual

understanding of the case was built up. The case narrative became a systematic description of the

events of each of the half or one year periods into which the case phases were sub-divided,

focussing on robust actions and support issues.

Methods Page 79

Stage 3 – Check VTFS Validity

The third (and first analytical) stage was to revisit the narratives and examine key

periods of ‘phase-shift’, where VTFS analysis had already identified correlated shifts in

robustness and support. Any changes in Blue robust action or changes in support were assessed

and described, including noting whether the original VTFS assessment seemed valid.

Stage 4 – Write the Analytical Chapters

The fourth stage was the analysis proper, which was a systematic process of answering

the questions in the case instrument (and using the matrix tool described below) which were

thematically arranged into six distinct sub-analyses. These were written discursively, generally

relying on evidence previously cited within the main case narrative to reduce citation repetition

and maintain flow of argument. After the sub-analyses were assembled, the two complete

analysis chapters were compared to draw further inferences that were then reported in the

conclusions chapter.

The process of the study and the way results are reported are further amplified in the

explanation of the different sub-analyses below. First the data on which the analysis is based is

introduced.

3.3.2 Case Data Sources

The data sources for this thesis are the VTFS dataset (C. Paul et al., 2010b) and

secondary and tertiary literature in English, (with some in French and German). The Kampuchea

case draws on over 70 literature sources and the PKK on nearly 200. The ‘anchoring’ reference

works, used as primary sources for the pilot studies were:

Warfare and Armed Conflicts: A Statistical Encyclopaedia of Casualty and other Figures,

1494-2007 Edition 3 (Clodfelter, 2008).

Resort to War: a Data Guide to Inter-State, Extra-State, Intra-State, and Non-State Wars,

1816-2007 (Sarkees & Wayman, 2010).

The Fighting Never Stopped: a Comprehensive Guide to World Conflict since 1945 (Brogan,

1990).

Modern Insurgencies and Counter-Insurgencies: Guerrillas and their Opponents since 1750

(Beckett, 2001).

From the Barrel of a Gun: a History of Guerrilla, Revolutionary and Counter-Insurgency

Warfare from the Romans to the Present (Ellis, 1995).


The Kampuchea Data

The Kampuchea case study inevitably drew heavily on accounts written by western

scholars36, given the destruction of Khmer academia under the Khmer Rouge (KR). Alert to the

partisan sympathies of some of these authors, data was then validated and added to from over 50

contemporary journal articles, especially from ‘the Journal of Concerned Asian Scholars’ and

‘Asian Survey’. The contested perspectives of different writers within these publications

provided some counter to possible bias, but US ‘establishment’ and ‘veteran’ sources were also

used to cross check figures and dates.

Studies on Cambodia/Kampuchea sit astride several significant and shifting academic

arguments about data and culpability that go back to the 1960’s. The massive consequences of

Western intervention in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia tended to polarise country specialists,

many of whom were highly critical of US policy. Ironically, as the Kampuchean insurgency

began and the world struggled to come to grips with the scale and meaning of the KR democide,

Realpolitik found the West and China actively supporting the rump of the murderous KR to

constrain Vietnam and thus the USSR. The small group of researchers thus had to negotiate

powerful gatekeepers seeking justification or condemnation of Vietnam (Marston, 2005, p. 501).

Access within Kampuchea, and to a lesser extent to refugees in Thailand, was limited to those not

critical of the local authorities. Even scholarly accounts tend to see Vietnamese actions in

Kampuchea as either those of ‘liberators’, for example: Vickery (1984), Slocomb (2004) Tully

(2005) or ‘oppressors’ including: Shawcross, Heder (1980), Martin (1994). A rare exception is

Deth’s thesis (2009, p. 11) which tackles this very dichotomy, although without resolution.

This academic dispute can be useful as it gives increased confidence when the different

perspectives agree on ‘facts’. With minimal public records and few objective observers within

Kampuchea at the time, there is an inevitable reliance on the contemporary accounts of refugees

who were presumably prejudiced against the Vietnamese and their Kampuchean Peoples

Republic (PRK). Vickery, whose work sought to test refugee accounts, says these broadly

survive testing against contemporary media (1984, pp. 189, 193) whilst more recent historical

analysis such as Pribbenow’s (2006) that uses Vietnamese or PRK internal documents, does not

reveal major factual discrepancies between sources. In any case, the analytic design used

resolves much of the possible impasse. The essential evidence comes from aggregated

explanatory factors sought where sources of all persuasions recognise change.

36 Especially: Chandler Bekaert Gottesman, Heder, Martin, Slocomb, Vickery

Methods Page 81

The PKK/Turkey Case Data

The PKK case study also drew heavily on western scholars, 37supplemented by Turkish

works, particularly five theses38 dealing with aspects of insurgency. Any sympathies for Kurdish

perspectives are usually evident and can be juxtaposed with those who choose to, or if Turkish

must, declare the other view.

The passion and partisanship aroused in any conflict has the potential to skew data, but

the distortions of the Turkish situation are extreme. Prime Minister Tansu Çiller, when

confronted with credible assertions that Turkish helicopters had attacked Kurdish villagers, felt

able and obliged to defend the military by implausibly claiming that they might have been PKK

aircraft, adding tellingly: “If I saw it with my own eyes I would not believe it” (AI, 1996 para.

10). Merely publishing material acknowledging the existence of a distinct ethnic minority within

Turkey has been a crime (Barkey & Fuller, 1998, p. xviii) for which many, including the

American academic Aliza Marcus, have been charged and some jailed for long periods (Pope,

1995). Given this, researchers writing within or for that country are constrained. It is thus

difficult to discern the genuine opinions of even senior US or UK based scholars such as Sayari

(1999, p. 141) or Mango (2005 Title) when they take an apparently pro-Turkish line. Ironically,

it is preferable for a Turkish author to ascribe nationalism to Turkish repression than to Kurdish

identity, as Zehni’s (2008, p. 11) thesis infers. Multiple Turkish sources such as Ümit Özdağ,

(2003), a Professor who is also a right wing politician, advocate robust approaches. This bias

helpfully means that their accounts of repression and PKK support tend to be credible, albeit that

they use Government data which understates state violence and overestimates PKK casualties.

This distortion was addressed by use of NGO data, (which is often detailed down to the

individual casualty) and other more objective studies such as geospatial imaging and other tools

for empirical measurement, cross referenced with over 100 contemporary media articles.

Despite limitations, the data available for the two cases was sufficient for meaningful

analysis.

3.3.3 Instrument Development

To manage the analytical process that uses the data above, a six-page case instrument

was created, specifying what was to be described, distinguished and discussed. This defined the

parameters for writing the background and narrative and created a structure around six sub-

analyses which subsumed the major sub-questions derived earlier within the theoretical

framework.

These sub-analyses and the corresponding major sub-questions are shown in Figure 19.

The full instrument with all the ‘sub-sub-questions’ is provided at Annex A. 37 Especially: Balta, Barkey, Bois, Eccarius-Kelly, Gunter, Kendal, Mango, Marcus, Massssicard, Morgado, Olsen, van Bruinnessen, White 38 By Aydin, Hamdan, Latif, Yuksel, Zehni


Figure 19: Main Headings of the Case Instrument

3.3.4 The Sub-Analyses

The Kampuchea and PKK analysis chapters both report results under the same section

headings that correspond to each sub-analysis. The various examinations and the way they are

written up is described below.

Case Analysis Instrument – Sub‐Analyses and Major Questions

Preparatory Guidance

P1 Select the categories of robust action for analysis

P2 Describe the events at the phase shifts of interest

Sub‐Analysis A ‐ Checking the Validity of VTFS‐based Case Selection

QV Is the VTF coding of the phase as ‘effective robust action’ or ‘Suppression’ valid?

Sub‐Analysis B ‐ Comparison of State Robustness and Insurgent Support

Q1 How was Red and Blue support broadly shifted by Blue actions and polices?

Sub‐Analysis C ‐ Assessing the Strategic Impact of Constituency Support & its Shifts

Q2 How did popular support influence the outcome and duration of the conflict?

Sub‐Analysis D ‐ Evaluation by Matrix‐mapping Compliance Behaviour

Q3 To what extent did shifts in support away from Blue become shifts towards Red and

vice versa

Sub‐Analysis E ‐ Testing Candidate Factors for Influence on Support

Q4 What proposed factors from the literature [if any] were present in the conflict and

did they shift at the phase change in respect of?

Blue Constituency Desertion

Red Constituency Suppression

Red Constituency Counter‐mobilisation

Sub‐Analysis F ‐ Examining the Mechanisms of Reducing Insurgent Effectiveness

Q5 What mechanisms reduced the ‘output value’ of insurgent activities?

Q6 What mechanisms reduced the ‘production capacity’ for insurgent activities?

Q 7 What mechanisms reduced external support (inputs) for production of insurgent

activities?

Q 8 What mechanisms reduced internal support for production of insurgent activities?

Q 9 What mechanisms increased active support for state activities?

Methods Page 83

Sub-Analysis A - Checking the Validity of VTFS-based Case Selection

The entire case analysis rests on a selection based on earlier VTFS assessment. The

validity is therefore significant. The first sub-analysis answers a series of check-questions that

together assess whether the RAND judgement that robust action and reduction in support are

correlated in certain phases is valid. The test is whether their view broadly survives an improved

understanding gained by the deeper analysis of events at the phase-shift. The first section of each

analytical chapter provides a short discussion of this issue.

Sub-Analysis B - Comparison of State Robustness and Insurgent Support

The second sub-analysis is at the heart of this research and examines the relationship

between robust action and support, based on a series of questions asking about how Blue and Red

support shifted and what the influences were. It identifies the phases which are the focus and

then provides an extensive examination that reports the magnitudes of relevant shifts. First,

trends and shifts in different classes of Blue robust action are described over time. Second, as a

control, trends and shifts in other Blue policy or Red actions are similarly covered. Third, shifts

in indicators of support over time are accounted for, directly compared to the first two categories

and the causality is explored. Many of these indicators are proxies, for instance accounts of

increased levels of insurgent support may be

correlated with rates of attack as supporting evidence.

In the Kampuchea case the relationships and

measurements are simply described in text, with the

use of a single cross plot but the PKK/Turkey case has

sufficient data to allow a series of such plots, such as

that shown in Figure 20, to be used to visually compare the timing of robust action and various

indicators of support. This crucial part of the analysis essentially addresses ‘what’ happened and

at the end of each section two, a series of conclusions is reported in bullet point form.

Sub-Analysis C - Assessing the Strategic Impact of Constituency Support and its Shifts

The third sub-analysis examines the relationship between strategic objectives, targets,

levers and processes, particularly examining cost infliction as a strategy and considering ACV as

a contest for support and legitimacy. It also considers ‘what’ happened and provides a rich multi-

page account of how popular support actually influenced strategic outcome and addresses the

broad effects on insurgent support of Blue policies more generally.

Sub-Analysis D - Evaluation by Matrix-mapping Compliance Behaviour

The fourth sub-analysis is an evaluation of constituency support shifts using the novel

matrix tool evolved and described in the theoretical framework (2.5.4) and shown again below at

Figure 21. This examination begins to consider the ‘why’ of support shifts. The reader will

Figure 20: Indicative Example of Plot of

Robust Activity


recall that the approach describes the compliance response of people and communities to the

coercion of both Red and Blue using nine unique labels that correspond to a position on a 3 x 3

descriptor matrix as shown on the left hand diagram. For example a ‘blue-loyalist’ resists or

evades Red coercion but supports Blue even without Blue coercion present. This provides a

different and usefully nuanced indication of community effective support for Red at any given

time. A series of 3 x 3 plots over time as shown by the right-hand diagram provides a matrix-

map that highlights important changes in support.

Figure 21: Coercion Matrix and Indicative example of Diagram Showing Shifts in Robustness

The matrix-mapping analysis plots an estimate of the mean community compliance

behaviour (the purple ball) for any particular phase. There are also small black arrows shown

which indicate the behavioural shifts of significant sub-groups in the phase. These estimates and

the evidence for them are explained in the text of the relevant section. The small arrows

represent important deviations from mean behaviour and illustrate the complexity of constituency

behaviour under coercion. The result is an understanding of community behaviour that breaks

free of previous linear paradigms of simply supporting either Red or Blue.

Sub-Analysis E - Testing Candidate Factors for Influence on Support

The fifth sub-analysis further explores the ‘why’ of support shifts. There is a range of

factors or conditions proposed in the literature as variously influencing or being responsible for

demobilisation of Blue support, or subduing or counter-mobilising Red support and earlier listed

at para. 2.4.3. Many of these logically might influence both Red and Blue support and so

plausibly have a bearing on shifting support generally. These factors can be tested by observing

if they change in some manner at the same point in time as Blue or Red support shifts. If this

occurs an examination of possible process is carried out. Unfortunately we cannot properly test

variables that do not vary during the conflict. For example, the SIT dimension ‘ethnic difference’

is often proposed as a driver of conflict, but since it is a constant throughout the conflicts it

cannot be assessed, notwithstanding that it possibly make an important contribution. The

relevant sections also tentatively propose several new factors that may be operating.

Methods Page 85

Sub-Analysis F Examining the Mechanisms of Reducing Insurgent Effectiveness

The final sub-analysis considers both the ‘what’ and ‘why’ dimensions, as it broadly

examines the operating mechanisms that Blue uses to reduce Red effectiveness. The analysis is

derived from the systems model of insurgency as explained earlier. It considers the different

LOE, asking what:

reduced the impact of actual insurgent activities,

reduced insurgent capacity to produce such activity,

reduced external support that sustained insurgent activity,

increased what active support for the state, and

reduced internal support for the insurgents?

Whilst this thesis is concerned with robust means to reduce internal inputs to insurgency,

and internal support impacts were considered in most depth, examining the others in parallel

gives an understanding as to the relative importance of different effects. The depth of this

examination and comparison of mechanisms merits its own summary.

Consolidating the Analysis

The analytic chapters include a summary section which draws together the major themes

and then provides a bullet-point list of results from across the chapter. Where relevant these

results are condensed to generate the case findings or compared between conflicts to generate

cross-case findings. The various findings are reported in the Conclusions chapter. The research

is subject to various constraints.

3.4 ETHICS, LIMITATIONS AND VALIDITY

Given that this thesis uses existing datasets and literature, there are no significant ethical

issues. The major limitation of the research method arises from the fact that it is a largely

exploratory ‘reprocessing of the data of others’ (Silke, 2004). However, the VTFS data is

eminently suitable for empirical purposes and a first attempt to explore this research question

needs a broad perspective which inevitably must be based on secondary sources. Methods such

as gathering primary data amongst an insurgent constituency are impractical and such work

would be more valuable as a test of better developed theory.

The VTFS case-set is the geographically diverse and fully representative universe of

insurgencies that satisfy COW criteria and were started and were resolved between 1978-2008,

thus avoiding the need for statistical testing to make inferences. Furthermore, the rigour of the

VTFS overall method, its underpinning systematic evolution and coding of the factors against the

phases of the conflicts by the research team and the cross-checking and validation has withstood


the test of publication: there has been quite harsh (ideological) criticism (Rovner & Hoyt, 2010)

of the findings of the VTFS, but this failed to find fault in the method.

Challenges to the VTFS approach may be considered under the traditional headings of

reliability and validity. The binary coding process is certainly vulnerable to individual coder

‘error’, however the RAND team addressed this with a collective cross checking approach, and

furthermore, binary data is transparent to reviewers or readers alike, and readily disputed. If there

were consequential ‘errors’ in the dataset they would most probably have been disputed in the

critical correspondence. There is further assurance in that the focus of VTFS was on the different

issue of outcomes, thus reducing any impact of hidden biases and improving objectivity.

The bivariate method shows transparent if sometimes ambiguous numerical relationships

between variables: conclusion validity is therefore evident. A QCA matrix rarely shows

numbers sufficiently polarised to show causality, and so claims are typically limited to broad

inferences that evade challenges to internal validity. However, although the VTFS factors of

‘increasing repression’ and ‘collective punishment’ align closely with the constructs of this

thesis, the four support factors may be individually slightly less faithful representations of

constituency support shifts. This is a construct validity challenge that was best addressed by

directly addressing the issue in the analysis and accounting for significant differences between

factor and ‘proxy’. Insofar as conclusions can be drawn, external validity is helped by the fact

that the VTFS set is complete: inferences were thus valid for the VTFS universe of cases and are

generalizable to the extent that other cases are similar.

Challenges to the case study approach are better considered under Guba and Lincolns

(2000, p. 122) alternative criteria: ‘credibility, transferability, dependability and confirmability’.

Under these, the ‘credibility’ of qualitative research is supported by a range of factors of which

four are relevant (Shenton, 2004, p. 64). This study uses ‘an established method’: structured

focussed comparison. It ‘applies triangulation’, in this case by deliberately using competing and

conflicting data sources. A ‘thick description of process’ is provided, especially concerning

events at phase shifts and examination of competing mechanisms and the ‘results are related to

previous research’. The requirement for participant feedback cannot be met, but the results pass

Leites and Wolf’s (1970, p. vii) alternative test of ‘imagining the judgement of participant

leaders’ from the cases.

The ‘transferability’ (Shenton, 2004, p. 69) of the research rests on the open declaration

of assumptions and the rich narrative and background provided for each case. This allows the

reader to recognise what is unique to the particular case in order to judge how reasonable any

claims of generalizability are. ‘Dependability’ (p. 71) was similarly protected by fully describing

the research processes, assumptions, conceptual frames and preconceptions which would account

for variations with the work of another conducting similar research. Dependability is also

enhanced by the ‘test’ involved by using the systems model to underpin the mechanism analysis.

Methods Page 87

This model was used in the 1970’s by advocates of robust action to argue the strategic merits of a

‘supply side’ or ‘deterrent’ approach to reduction of insurgent support. It is therefore reasonable

to contest that the model shows this option to best advantage, and is a ‘most likely’ model for

explaining successful repression and therefore a ‘most demanding’ model with which to test the

I-Syndrome concept by case analysis.

Other expert researchers are not available to enhance ‘confirmability’ (p.72) by cross-

checking data, so the main protection was built by searching for and reporting contradictory data

and the use of counterfactual self-checking. This is enhanced by the audit trail that exists in the

case instrument.

3.5 SUMMARY

This chapter has described how the research was framed and formulated based on the

VTFS and explained how this led to the eventual method. The use of both QCA based bivariate

analysis and the use of ‘structured focussed’ case analysis was described in sufficient detail for

the reader to understand the case analysis chapters that follow or broadly replicate the work

given access to the cited data and reference works. Note that for brevity and simplicity of

understanding the bivariate analysis results and findings are reported together in the Conclusions

chapter.

4Chapter 4: The Insurgency in Kampuchea, 1978-1992

Introduction

The insurgency between 1978 and 1992 in Cambodia,

renamed Kampuchea for most of this period, was fought by the

Maoist Khmer Rouge39 (KR) and other groups, against

Vietnamese invaders and the Peoples Republic of Kampuchea

(PRK) government they installed. The VTFS rated this

insurgency a case of COIN force defeat, but not a clear one, since

the KR did not achieve their ambition of a return to power and

the Vietnamese achieved many of their political goals. During

the middle of the conflict the Vietnamese carried out massive ‘K5’ clearance operations and

barrier construction where repressive measures coincide with reduced support for the insurgents,

which is the basis of its selection for analysis.

39 Translates as ‘Red Khmers’, ‘Khmer’ is an ethnic label, whilst a Kampuchean/Cambodian is a citizen of any ethnic background.

Fed up with the policies and cross‐border incursions of Kampuchea’s Khmer Rouge

government, Vietnam invaded Kampuchea in December 1978. Initially welcomed for

freeing the people of Cambodia from the depredations of Pol Pot, the Vietnamese

quickly wore out their welcome. With the support of Thailand (and others further

abroad), the Khmer Rouge reconstituted itself as a significant insurgency, and several

other insurgent movements formed and contested the occupation. The 1984–1985

dry season saw the Vietnamese and their Cambodian proxies aggressively sweep the

border regions free of insurgents and then build a “bamboo curtain” (with cleared

ground, minefields, and defensive road networks) with their K5 plan. This ambitious

operation was effective over the short term, but the bamboo curtain did not keep the

insurgents out, and the forced labor (sic) involved in its construction further alienated

the population. After several years of expensive stalemate, Vietnamese forces

abandoned Cambodia to their indigenous proxies in 1989. The puppet government

managed to hang on through the signing of the Paris Peace Agreement in 1991 and

into the United Nations (UN) peacekeeping mission period. It was then soundly

defeated at the polls.

Summary from RAND ‘Victory has a Thousand Fathers’ (C. Paul, Clarke, & Grill, 2010a,

pp. 75‐76)


This chapter provides the information that underpins the subsequent analysis. A first

section provides an extensive discussion of the background to the conflict, gives context, explains

the motives for the Vietnamese intervention and frames the shifting enmity between the parties.

This is followed by a description of the course of the insurgency, focussing on the robustness of

state actions, level of support for insurgents and mechanisms of state coercion.

4.1 BACKGROUND

Cambodia/Kampuchea lies on the Gulf of Thailand, bordered by Thailand, Laos and

Vietnam. Most of the country is low flat tropical plains that rise and become increasingly thickly

forested towards the border rim that forms the eastern highlands in the Northeast near Laos, the

Dangret mountains in the North and the Cardamom range in the costal Southwest (Figure 22).

Around Tonle Sap Lake and to the Northwest of the capital, Phnom Penh there are more open

agricultural areas used for rice paddy. The map also shows the major towns, road routes

(numbered) and the locations of insurgent camps along the Thai border during the 1980’s.

Figure 22: Kampuchea: Location and Key Geographic Features – ("Map of Cambodia," 2011)

Kampuchea Page 91

The population was probably about 7 million in 1975 (E. Meng-Try, 1990, p. 3). Of the

nominally 95% Buddhist population of about, 90% are ethnically Khmer, 5% Vietnamese and

the balance are Chinese and other groups (CIA, 2010). There is a long history of ethnic tensions

internally and with neighbours, aggravated by residual resentment about Cambodia’s past status

as a vassal state of both Siam and Vietnam, the latter’s interference since the 15th century and

cultural imperialism as a coloniser in the 1830’s. Ethnic mixing across disputed borders inherited

from the French colonial administration compound the problem (Chang, 1983, p. 382; S. J.

Morris, 1999, p. 24).

The 1978-1992 insurgency in Kampuchea followed an invasion by Vietnam which

ended the agrarian revolution and the genocide of the KR. As Morris’ book (1999, p. 230)

explores, the origins of the invasion and occupation were complex. They include KR leadership

paranoid irrationality, ethnic conflict between Khmer and Vietnamese living within and beyond

Kampuchea’s borders, Hanoi’s’ ambition to dominate Indochina and fears of China, the Sino-

Soviet struggle and above all, the importance of Cambodian territory on the flanks of the US-

Vietnam War.

The ‘US-Vietnam War (1961-1975)’, Cambodia and Revolution

In the late sixties the Kingdom of Cambodia under its wily and increasingly repressive

leader Prince Sihanouk manoeuvred to remain out of the ‘Vietnam’ war, early on breaking ties

with Washington and ending vital US aid (S. Heder, 1979, p. 14; Rogge, 1990, p. 10). Resenting

CIA support of the Khmer Seri (ker) guerrilla’s (S. J. Morris, 1999, p. 40), anticipating

Communist victory (and with hostile US allies on two borders) he portrayed neutrality but

secretly allied with the Chinese and North Vietnamese. Sihanouk provided the Vietnamese with

arms and permitted them to establish bases in Cambodia. Concurrently however, he agreed that

the US could retaliate against attacks mounted from his country, leading to a devastating US air-

bombing campaign in the East that aggravated anti-Vietnamese sentiments (Chandler, 2008, pp.

194-200; Kamm, 1998, p. 35; T. Lum, 2007, p. 2; Rogge, 1990, p. 11).

In 1970 the conservative and pro-US Khmer prime minister Lon Nol exploited anti-

Vietnamese sentiments, domestic instability and Sihanouk’s absence abroad to mount a

successful coup. Lon Nol’s Cambodian Republic immediately gave the Vietnamese communists

48 hours to depart: the People’s Army of Vietnam (PAVN) promptly advanced further into the

country (Kamm, 1998, p. xvii). As the Cambodian army retreated, across the country there were

Khmer massacres of ethnic Vietnamese (Kamm, 1998, pp. 79-82). A limited–duration invasion

by US troops from South Vietnam resulted in the PAVN redeploying and ultimately seizing yet

more Cambodian territory: the regime of Lon Nol was only saved by South Vietnamese troops

and massive further application of US airpower (Chandler, 2008, pp. 202-206).


Existing opposition to Lon Nol quickly coalesced into a broader rebellion with North

Vietnamese support, nominally led by the exiled Sihanouk, centred on a small but highly

disciplined indigenous communist resistance with a few hundred fighters in the North East: they

would later become infamous as the Khmer Rouge (KR) which was soon joined by the Hanoi-

trained ‘Khmer Viet Minh’ faction who had been in exile in Vietnam since 1954 (Becker, 1984,

p. 44; Carney, 1990, p. 183). With half of Cambodia now in communist control, friction

emerged between the dogmatic, Maoist and rapidly growing KR and the occupying Vietnamese

over strategy and the latter’s ambitions for control. The ‘domestic’ KR saw ‘Vietnamese

influence as a prelude to eventual domination’, (Chanda, 1988, p. 106) and, suspecting the

loyalty of the Khmer Viet Minh, began to purge them in 1970 (Becker, 1984, p. 44). The KR

decided to ‘expel’ their Vietnamese allies in 1971 and by 1972 even began military harassment

of the now reduced Vietnamese forces, although for pragmatic reasons the latter did not

withdraw all logistic support (S. J. Morris, 1999, pp. 56, 59, 72, 96). When the Vietnamese

agreed to stop even this as part of the 1973 Paris Peace Accords, the KR became convinced of

Vietnamese perfidy.

The domestic insurgency steadily grew in strength, and several million refugees 40 fled to

urban areas, although Lon Nol’s regime was able to check KR physical advance until the

suspension of US air bombing support in August 1973 (1990, p. 12; Rowat, 2010 chronology).

The regime position then deteriorated, and two weeks before the North Vietnamese declared

victory over the South in 1975, the Communist KR seized power in Phnom Penh. They launched

an unprecedented plan of agrarian and ultra-Maoist social engineering to create self sufficient

agricultural communes for the benefit of the ‘exploited and enslaved poor’ or ‘old people’.

Directed by a hidden cabal, the Democratic Kampuchea (DK) revolutionary project began with

the execution of all Lon Nol regime officials, officers and suspected sympathisers. Money,

private property, western medicine, education, religious practice and traditional family structures

were banned (Kamm, 1998, p. xix). The refugee-swollen urban populations were economically

dominated by Sino and Viet Cambodians and strongly associated with the Lon Nol regime. To

assert control, disable counter revolution and create a social paradigm-shift, over 2 million of

them were driven into the countryside to become peasant labourers: the ‘new people’ (Chandler,

2008, p. 209). The educated were suspect, considered of no value to the agrarian project and in

some areas were systematically killed. The DK genocide through starvation and executions

would kill between one and two million (Ablin & Hood, 1990, p. xxxvii), with the paranoid

regime torturing its victims to extract false confessions which reinforced its delusions. Several

hundred thousand fled the country, with tens of thousands ending up in three resettlement camps

in Thailand (Robinson, 2000, p. 23; Rogge, 1990, p. 33). A few formed weak guerrilla bands on

40 Rogge (1990, p. 12) gives 3 million or 40% of the population, Rowat (2010) 2 million.

Kampuchea Page 93

the border some joining the surviving Khmer Seri (ker), who became a mainstay of the border

smuggling business (M. A. Martin, 1994, p. 242; Rogge, 1990, p. 40).

Post Communist Victory Tensions

Immediately after the 1975 Communist victory in the two countries, tensions flared

between a resentful, fearful but intensely nationalistic DK and an overbearing Vietnam that

assumed gratitude and continued influence in return for the assistance it had given the KR. The

border did not reflect ethnic distributions or Kampuchean perceptions of their historical

boundaries and the Vietnamese had refused to evacuate nationals from wartime ‘refuge’

settlements within Kampuchea (Summers, 1979, p. 12). A broader issue was that Vietnamese

ambition for dominance of Indochina, indicated by its ascendancy in Laos, intersected with an

emerging struggle for regional influence between a post-Mao China and the USSR (Niehaus,

1979, p. 90). Whilst both powers had supported the Vietnamese fight against the US, China’s

traditional enmity with Vietnam quickly resurfaced after the US defeat. By 1977 the initially

isolationist KR turned to China, and when help to rearm was given, Vietnam interpreted this as a

containment move by China that might translate to Kampuchean assistance to rebels in Southern

Vietnam (Chang, 1983, p. 382; Leighton, 1978, p. 450). Relations with China further

deteriorated in 1978 when, as part of ‘socialist reform’, Vietnam expelled thousands of citizens of

Chinese ethnicity, largely the ‘bourgeois merchant class’ (Niehaus, 1979, p. 86).

These conflict drivers, and even the possible KR adoption of a ‘bristly-dog’ deterrent

strategy do not explain the aggression of DK or their explicit development of a national

programme of anti-Vietnamese hostility (Jackson, 1979, p. 78; Klintworth, 1989b, p. 5). Events

suggest that racism, xenophobic irrationality and Vietnamese involvement in internal power

struggles were also factors. Racism was implicated in early massacres of Sino and Viet-

Cambodians and the killing of a third of Kampuchea’s rebellious Muslim Cham people (Kiernan,

1988, p. 9, 2002, p. 486), although Ablin and Hood (1990, p. xxxvi) infer that paranoia about

‘fifth columns’ was the trigger. DK was at first distant even towards China and displayed

‘mystical disregard’ of its military inferiority by attacking both Thailand and Vietnam (S. J.

Morris, 1999, p. 103). Internal power struggles saw coup attempts every six months until May

1978, with Pol Pot re-securing his declining leadership after crushing challengers at Prey Veng

in 1977 (Ablin & Hood, 1990, p. xxxvii; Barnett, 1979, p. 5). Those involved had pro-

Vietnamese perspectives, which reinforced KR paranoia about Vietnamese infiltration of DK,

although the actual threat had been diminished with killing or imprisonment of the 4000 Khmer

Viet Minh the previous year (S. J. Morris, 1999, p. 97; Tucker, 1999, p. 33).


Escalating Paranoia and Border Clashes

Initial violent eruptions in 1975 had seen DK seize two Vietnamese islands in the Gulf of

Thailand, take five hundred civilian hostages and subsequently kill them. The Vietnamese

recaptured their territory, seized more in retaliation and allegedly both despatched assassination

teams and supported a coup attempt (Jackson, 1979, p. 72). In 1976 Border clashes temporarily

declined as Pol Pot and other KR leaders jostled for power, but in April 1977 DK forces

advanced 10 km into Vietnam’s Chau Doc province, massacring thousands and deporting those

of Khmer heritage back to Kampuchea. In September a similar but larger attack was followed by

massive Vietnamese counter offensives in October and December 1977 (Clodfelter, 2008, pp.

664-666, 668; Leighton, 1978, p. 452).

Pol Pot’s paranoid reaction to a faltering agrarian domestic revolution and Vietnamese

successes had been to blame ‘traitors’ and begin a purge of all KR with ‘suspect associations’

with Vietnam. Many fled, and by 1977 the Vietnamese had created a front organisation, the

Kampuchean National United Front for National Salvation (KNUFNS), from Khmer dissidents

of all political backgrounds and began to train an armed resistance force of up to 20,000, the

Kampuchean People’s Revolutionary Armed Forces (KPRAF) (Donnell, 1980, p. 21).

Both the implied warning of the successful Vietnamese 1977 counter-offensive and

peace overtures were rejected by DK in early 1978, leading the Vietnamese to decide to actively

support revolt in eastern Kampuchea (Ablin & Hood, 1990, p. xli). Fighting continued along the

border through 1978, involving manoeuvre forces of up to 10,000 and causing thousands of

casualties (C. Paul et al., 2010a, pp. 25-29). By mid 1978 the KR pogroms progressed to three

months of massacres that killed 100,000 who were either faintly tainted or falsely denounced,

including half of all Khmer communists and even four of the ten original KR leaders (Brogan,

1990, pp. 145-152; Clodfelter, 2008, pp. 664-666, 668).

Against this background of repeated attacks, Chinese military support to Kampuchea

now included 14-20,000 advisors, new fighter-bombers and heavy artillery that was being used to

shell Vietnamese villages (Marr, 1990, p. 68). A mistaken belief that China was actually inciting

KR aggression and the positioning of 19 Divisions of KR on the border fed fear of a DK

offensive, perhaps supported by an invasion from China. The Vietnamese decided to knock the

KR out all costs (Donnell, 1980, p. 20; Klintworth, 1989b, p. 5; Lockhart, 1996, p. 11; S. J.

Morris, 1999, pp. 106, 118; Niehaus, 1979, p. 90). The Vietnamese Foreign Minister later said

that, “Human rights were not a question; That was THEIR problem – we were concerned only

with security” (Grandolini, Cooper, & Troung, 2004). With the Soviets providing 8,000 advisors

and new equipment, the Vietnamese rebuilt their army and began to redeploy it south ready to

invade (Pribbenow, 2006, p. 462). By December 1978 the People’s Army of Vietnam (PAVN)

had deployed a combined arms force of 120-150,000, nominally ‘supporting’ a KPRAF that on

Kampuchea Page 95

paper comprised several under strength brigades, but may have been far smaller (Carney, 1990,

pp. 184, 187; Brogan, 1990, pp. 145-152; C. Paul et al., 2010a, pp. 25-29; Sarkees & Wayman,

2010, pp. 169, 324, 427).

4.2 THE INSURGENCY DESCRIBED

This thesis begins its study of the insurgency from the invasion and divides the conflict

up into the five phases defined by e VTFS:

Phase I: “Initial Invasion and Occupation” (1978–1981)

Phase II: “Insurgency and Insecurity” (1981–1983)

Phase III: “COIN Push and the K5 Plan” (1984–1985)

Phase IV: “Stalemate” (1986–1989)

Phase V: “Post-occupation Collapse of the Puppets” (1989–1992)

Phases are further divided into wet and dry seasons as a unit of description. This

conforms to the seasonal patterns of conflict imposed by the inhibiting effect of the wet season on

military operations.

4.2.1 Phase I: “Initial Invasion and Occupation” (1978–1981)

Overview

In the first phase the PAVN conducted a textbook Soviet military offensive, quickly

overcoming KR conventional defences to secure the cities and communications networks of

Kampuchea and collapsing Democratic Kampuchea (DK). After taking heavy casualties, the KR

dispersed to conduct guerrilla warfare, but the PAVN systematically drove them from food

producing bases and stores so that as they retreated by stages to the Thai border up to 75% of

them starved to death: however the KR was resuscitated there by outside support. Initial KR

scorched earth tactics combined with massive migrations of the freed population and a poor

harvest led to famine across the country. Starvation, fear of another ‘Socialist’ and KR–tainted

regime or the Vietnamese drove huge numbers of refugees to the border. A much reduced but

unbowed and rearmed KR began to harass the occupiers and as the PAVN responded, their

professed identity as ‘liberators’ became less sustainable.

October 1978-May 1979 Dry season

The KR recognised the threat posed by a massive military build up on its borders and

began a series of large spoiling attacks on the 20-21 December 1978. Rather than have their

plans disrupted, the PAVN brought their attack date forwards a week and advanced on the 22-

23rd. Eighteen infantry divisions with integral engineers, armoured units and air support struck

simultaneously along the border. Six major columns, three with attached KPRAF battalions,


penetrated swiftly along the major routes, bypassing and screening resistance according to classic

Soviet doctrine; there was little coordinated resistance after the prepared defences along the first

20km. Three columns advanced towards the focal point, Phnom Penh, whilst others swept across

the northeast and east and a naval infantry division landed on the Kampuchean coast (Klintworth,

1989b, p. 6; Pribbenow, 2006, pp. 464-465).

The onslaught overwhelmed the purge-weakened DK forces in the east which mostly

dispersed to conduct guerrilla operations (Ablin & Hood, 1990, p. xlii). Some sources including

Chandler (2008, p. 225) Carney (1990, p. 202) and Morris (1999, p. 111) suggest that initial

success and a popular reception led the Vietnamese to expand an original plan to merely occupy

the east. Pribbenow’s (2006, p. 460) research using Vietnamese records however, makes it clear

that a larger invasion was meticulously planned and executed and intended to break the back of

the DK in six months (Pike, 1982, p. 73). Still, the advance was slowed by Vietnamese lack of

trucks to transport infantry and supplies, stay behind tactics, fierce KR defence of urban areas and

counterattacks in those north-western areas where they had time to organise and the need to

eliminate the KR troops who had earlier penetrated and dug in on Vietnamese territory

(Pribbenow, 2006, pp. 452-454).

Phnom Penh was captured on the 7th January 1979 with a KNUFNS ‘puppet’

government installed immediately as the ‘Peoples Republic of Kampuchea’ (PRK) under ex-KR

Heng Samrin. China, and a US still bitter after its defeat by the Vietnamese, would ensure that

the UN long continued to recognise Pol Pot’s DK as the legitimate government despite the

emerging evidence of genocide. As the capital fell, KR forces fled west and initially attempted

conventional resistance but suffered enormous losses (S. J. Morris, 1999, p. 111), although once

off the major routes, the ‘terrain no longer favoured pursuit and ‘mopping up’ stalled in the face

of KR tenacity’ (Carney, 1990, p. 188). In some bypassed areas and in the South-west, especially

the port of Kompong Som, fierce resistance continued but control of population centres and

routes was largely established by the middle of January (Pribbenow, 2006, p. 484). Nevertheless,

the Vietnamese were unable to destroy groups of KR who dispersed to operate in groups of 30-

100 (Clodfelter, 2008, p. 668; Kroef, 1979, p. 34).

The KR continued hit and run tactics as they withdrew towards pre-planned resistance

bases sited 20 km or more from major routes and in readily defensible forest, hilly or wet areas

where crops could be grown (S. R. Heder, 1980, p. 61), particularly in the South-western

Cardamom Mountains (Rowley, 2004, p. 202) and towards Thai border. Here they had already

begun to build stockpiles in anticipation of invasion and frantically attempted to transport the

new harvest with them, taking perhaps 10-20% of the national stock and using 30% of the

animals and carts (S. R. Heder, 1980, p. 28). Where the KR were not overtaken by the PAVN

Kampuchea Page 97

they forced large numbers41 of the population to act as porters and labourers. To thwart the

Vietnamese, behind themselves the KR destroyed town rice granaries, standing crops, bridges,

roads and especially in the east, even ‘human assets’ before they could be freed (Deth, 2009, p.

87). Bypassed KR units ‘wreaked terrible vengeance on those who seemed to have supported or

acquiesced in the invasion’ (Vickery, 1984, p. 192) and plans were discovered for mass

executions across the country (M. A. Martin, 1994, p. 215) that were probably only foiled by the

rapid Vietnamese advance.

As the PAVN swept across the country a Vietnamese observer reported “hundreds of

thousands of gaunt and diseased people, dazed as if they were returning from hell, wandered

(sic) shoeless along dusty roads...not speaking or smiling” (Tully, 2005, p. 200). Many, perhaps

most, of those who had been forcibly relocated after 1975 now attempted to return home to find

missing family members or buried wealth, mainly moving towards the towns. With the PAVN

preoccupied and KR control ceased, food stores, seed rice and draught animals were looted and

eaten. Many, perhaps half of all villages were abandoned, their stocks often left to rot and their

animals wandering; some would later be inefficiently gathered by the PAVN or the PRK (S. R.

Heder, 1980, pp. 16-29, 31-32). Fear of the ongoing fighting and distrust of either the

Vietnamese or the socialist character of the new regime combined to drive a small first wave of

refugees to flee toward Thailand; others slipped into the jungle to join non-KR resistance groups.

For those Khmers who had not voted with their feet, relief at liberation from a brutally oppressive

regime inclined them to initially welcome the Vietnamese as liberators (M. A. Martin, 1994, p.

215), as virtually all sources agree (Deth, 2009, p. 25). The mood was optimistic if not outright

euphoric (Rogge, 1990, p. 41): it would not last.

On the 17th February, the Chinese intervened to help the KR (Donnell, 1980, p. 22).

Tensions had been growing with Vietnam over its post-reunification persecution and expulsion

of 200,000 ethnic Chinese, whose ideology or loyalty was suspect (S. J. Morris, 1999, pp. 206-

212; Niehaus, 1979, p. 86; Tucker, 1999, p. 55). This was exacerbated by Vietnam signing an

alliance with the USSR in 1978, and China saw a threatening Soviet hand confirmed in the

Vietnamese invasion (Chang, 1983, p. 384). Executing a deliberate decision to attack made

earlier in December (Tucker, 1999, p. 88), on the 17th February 1979, tens of thousands42 of

Chinese troops attacked across the border with Vietnam citing ‘punishment for aggression in

Kampuchea’. Artillery barrages followed by tanks and waves of infantry achieved a rapid

advance of 10 miles on the first day which then slowed amongst the rugged mountain terrain,

tunnels, caves and fortifications held by PAVN territorial and militia troops. Alarmed, at the

attack on its ally, the USSR began an airlift of supplies into Vietnam. Although the Chinese had 41 Brogan suggests up to 200,000. Deth (2009, p. 87) cites Chanda’s figure of 300,000 42 Figures vary widely up to Pribbenow’s 600,000 (2006, p. 485) which Donnell says is the eventual total in the region (1980, p. 23). Chen gives 100,000 as the first echelon of a 330,000 force (1987, p. 105) Clodfelter (2008, p. 669) gives 30,000 out of 180,000 .


announced that the incursion would be of limited duration and scope, by the 27th two border cites

had fallen and battle for the provincial capital of Lang Son, the gateway to Hanoi, had started

(Chen, 1987, pp. 102-110; Tucker, 1999, pp. 200-201).

Now, with up to 200,000 Chinese invaders in their country, and three of their five

veteran and most effective Army Corps in Kampuchea, the Vietnamese decided to redeploy. 2nd

Corps was ordered to leave Kampuchea and travel 2000 km north, (Pribbenow, 2006, p. 485),

eventually arriving there as the Chinese completed their pre-announced withdrawal on March 5th.

Up to 30,00043 Vietnamese had been killed and slightly fewer Chinese. Northern border areas of

Vietnam were thoroughly laid waste and cities and infrastructure destroyed under a deliberate

Chinese scorched earth policy, however Chinese military shortcomings had been exposed and

Soviet support for Vietnam was now entrenched.

The diversion of the Chinese assault was unable to prevent the Vietnamese from

securing 90% of Kampuchea (Rowley, 2004, p. 202) and destroying the centres of KR resistance

near towns or routes by April, (Kroef, 1979, p. 35) but it may have distracted them from decisive

defeat of the KR and ‘provided a two month breathing space in February’ (Carney, 1990, p.

200). It would certainly have disrupted any reserve logistic capacity available to support

population welfare plans, prevented the deployment of a larger part of the Vietnamese army

against the growing insurgency (S. J. Morris, 1999, p. 221) and removed an experienced

formation from the campaign. Donnell (1980, p. 24) says the substitution of inexperienced

troops for these veterans was exploited by the insurgents. In this period the KR still were able to

re-concentrate and strike hard, for instance a large ambush in mid-March overran a corps

headquarters and killed the commanding General (Pribbenow, 2006, p. 486).

Paul et al. follow other sources to suggest a Vietnamese hesitation to finish the KR that

may have been motivated by wishing to retain a pretext for remaining in Kampuchea (2010a, p.

26). However, it is unclear how a decisive blow could have been inflicted against the KR after

they dispersed into the jungle and hills, especially once the monsoon began.

Up to 40,000 armed KR (Kroef, 1979, p. 35), ‘especially the young, remained loyal to

the organisation that had given them power and self respect‘(Chandler, 2008, pp. 225, 229) and

prepared to fight. In the larger ‘socialist enclave’ base areas the KR immediately began

agricultural production and planning independent offensive operations (S. R. Heder, 1980, p. 65).

Elsewhere they continued to operate at company strength from rural enclaves (Leifer, 1980, p.

35), stealing rice from communes at night to survive (Vickery, 1984, p. 206). From mid

February until April they mounted attacks across the country, but the tempo stalled as casualties

grew and ammunition ran out (S. R. Heder, 1980, p. 65). As the Chinese withdrew from northern

Vietnam the PAVN resumed offensive operations with combined arms sweeps between March

43 Chen’s figure (1987, p. 114) Clodfelter (2008, p. 669) suggests 10,000 each is more realistic

Kampuchea Page 99

and June overrunning rural enclaves in the southwest and northwest. This prompted a second

major KR withdrawal to other hill forest bases without food production areas. From April some

KR had begun to starve and some of their captive civilians were freed as the KR proved unable to

take care of them (Vickery, 1984, p. 206) but many were forced to the border (S. R. Heder, 1980,

p. 75).

Kampuchea was in numb chaos, with its social structure and administrative institutions

deliberately destroyed, the depopulated cites decayed and the infrastructure collapsed. Yet the

people came back to the towns in hope of news, reunion, shelter and food. The authorities barred

access within, setting up makeshift camps around the urban areas. Here the people encountered

the PRK regime as it attempted to build an administration from nothing. Inevitably it was

dominated by Vietnamese and the ‘reliable’ but uneducated ex-KR who had fled the purges.

Khmer professionals who had somehow survived discovered that they might at best secure a

subordinate role and an inadequate rice ration: fleeing to Thailand might compare favourably.

Both pragmatic and idealistic motives drove some young men to join the KPRAF. In February

and March, the PRK asserted control by re-evacuating those without state jobs from the centres

of towns and those remaining on the fringes or in the villages were told to forage (Gottesman,

2002, pp. 39-41). This harsh evacuation seemed to presage a repetition of DK policy and

combined with a more general ‘disillusionment amongst the urban Khmer’ to trigger a wave of

surviving educated refugees to flee for Thailand: hunger was not yet the driver (Rogge, 1990, p.

41).

The first flows had crossed the border and found shelter in temporary camps, but the

safety was illusory as Thai policy hardened. Indochinese communists were implicated in

Thailand’s own insurgency (Rogge, 1990, p. 64), the Vietnamese represented a conventional

military danger and recent events made US support look unreliable (Robinson, 2000, p. 26).

Realpolitik drove the Thais to a policy of supporting the KR whilst holding refugees at the border

or driving them back into Kampuchea. In March they closed the border, so two sets of makeshift

camps grew up just inside the border, non-communist camps and the KR controlled ones (Rogge,

1990, p. 41). The KR were established in favourable locations where they could better control

their captive civilians: there the Thais supplied them, eventually even transporting cadres

between camps and allowing them to evade pursuit by crossing the border (Kamm, 1998, pp.

160, 168) (Ablin & Hood, 1990, p. xliv; S. R. Heder, 1980, pp. 23-25, 32; M. A. Martin, 1994,

p. 217). Thirteen of the non-communist bands merged to form the Khmer People’s National

Liberation Armed Forces (KPNLAF) with several hundred men, vague promises of support and

few weapons: in October it would form a political branch, the KPNLF (Bekaert, 1997, p. 12).

The non-KR refugees were less fortunate still. In June 45,000 were collected from the Thai

camps and transported in buses to the border and forced back across at gunpoint over the


Dangrek escarpment into the border minefields. Thousands44 died before the Vietnamese

eventually cleared a lane and marched the survivors back into Kampuchea (Kamm, 1998, pp.

160-164; Robinson, 2000, p. 24).

May-October 1979 Wet season

When the monsoon began in May 1979 the logistically overextended Vietnamese

withdrew to secure the main population centres and routes leaving only ‘observation battalions’

deployed close to the border camps (Carney, 1990, p. 206). This began an ‘annual pattern of

PAVN consolidation’ from roughly May until October when the dry season permitted the

Vietnamese and PRK regular forces to conduct major attacks on insurgent bases (Ablin & Hood,

1990, p. lv). PAVN priorities appear to have been to: clear remaining large interior bases, defend

key areas, allow troop rotation, focus on building a PRK military and especially village militia,

and minimise PAVN contact with the Khmer population (Carney, 1990, p. 203).

Some village militias and ‘management committees’ had sprung up spontaneously after

the KR fled, and as the PAVN arrived their ‘advisors’ formalised these structures. Initially

composed of those who had plainly suffered under DK, they were then ‘purged of Lon Nol era

soldiers and those who might harbour anti Vietnamese sentiment’. Villages were also organised

into a krom samakai or ‘solidarity production team’ structure of 10-30 families that pooled

labour, draught animals and tools under commune or village authority. This re-collectivisation

caused some conflict (S. R. Heder, 1980, p. 16), but may have been essential given the shortage

of resources and large numbers of orphans, elderly and sick requiring succour. In any case the

prime driver was less an undoubted socialist ideology than to create a hierarchy of accountability

for control and security reasons.

Insurgent attacks by small groups continued though the wet without posing a major

immediate threat to the PRK (Leifer, 1980, p. 35); however they did make preparation of more

remote rice paddy dangerous. This combined with shortage of labour, a decayed irrigation

system and lack of tools to reduce planting: without KR coercion their detested system of

collective agriculture was in disarray (Carney, 1982, p. 80). In May the authorities also began

forcing the ‘unproductive populations’ on the edges of towns back into the countryside,

increasing pressure on food that could be foraged (S. R. Heder, 1980, pp. 39-41). Already

foreign observers suggested impending famine.

The KR in most of the remote camps were already starving, especially the civilians who

were fed last. Between July and Sept between 20% and 50% of the non-fighters died, and as

they began to move to the Thai border for food a similar proportion again died (S. R. Heder,

1980, pp. 67-71). In August and September the PAVN now turned their attention to the north

44 Rogge (1990, p. 46) cites others to suggest 10,000 is a conservative estimate.

Kampuchea Page 101

and northeast to systematically drive KR from productive enclaves and from there too, the

civilians began to be ordered to the border (S. R. Heder, 1980, p. 78). Finally the KR stockpiles

for many remaining KR fighters in the SW were exhausted and they began to follow (Rowley,

2004, p. 202).

Vietnamese planning had assumed the 1978 harvest would be available, but the KR had

destroyed or taken it (Gottesman, 2002, pp. 39-41). With few peasants planting or harvesting

what proved to be a bad yield, the 1979 production was totally inadequate (Clodfelter, 2008, p.

668). Although desperate to avoid external famine relief (Donnell, 1980, p. 22), by July the PRK

asked the UN for help (Black, 1986, p. 380) and in the autumn the crisis exploded (Rogge, 1990,

p. 41) as yet more people drifted in search of food. In September the Vietnamese began relief

attempts. Faced with uneven distribution of limited stocks, starvation in some areas, and a

limited logistic capacity that was still supporting combat operations, the Vietnamese reacted

harshly to assert control. There were evictions from areas without supplies and, in order to allow

it to be properly distributed; orders were given to prevent the dry season rice from being

harvested by starving Khmers. These measures were misunderstood and perceptions of the

Vietnamese hardened, especially after protesting PRK administrators were purged. In September

this disillusion combined with resumed KR/PAVN skirmishing (Leifer, 1980, p. 35) and a

spreading understanding that rice was available at the border, to trigger a further massive refugee

flow. This was so large that the Vietnamese began to use force to stop it (S. R. Heder, 1980, pp.

44-52), as did the Thais at the border itself (Black, 1986, p. 392).


On the 10th October 1979, as the rains ended, the Vietnamese mounted offensive

operations to overrun the last accessible internal centres of resistance (Black, 1986, p. 393;

Brogan, 1990, p. 152). The more remote camps and border redoubts were not assaulted but the

PAVN returned to forward positions of the previous year (Leifer, 1980, pp. 93-84). ‘Attacks

were indecisive because of difficulties in pursuit through mined and booby trapped jungle’

(Leifer, 1980, p. 93). Pike (1981, p. 91) suggests that PAVN plan was for about ‘a third of the

180,000-man force to continue ‘guerrilla bashing’ while the remaining two-thirds would

continue to work the villages in pacification efforts’. However this description of the main effort

may be misleading and the focus was probably maintaining security outside of the villages. In

1980 the emphasis was already to build up a larger PRK force with Soviet help (Carney, 1982, p.

80) whilst reducing visible Vietnamese presence (Vickery, 1984, p. 222)45.

During October the refugee wave broke on the Thai border. The majority of the

surviving KR armed forces, starving and diseased and having lost ¾ of their strength, arrived

45 PAVN Troops were stationed in only 10-30% of villages with no responsibility for administration and orders to interfere as little as possible.


with willing and coerced civilians (M. A. Martin, 1994, p. 241) and ‘began stumbling across the

border’ (Carney, 1982, p. 78) into dedicated camps opened by the Thais. By the end of the year

some would return to the fight, (M. A. Martin, 1994, p. 241). The mass of non-communist

refugees were held at the border. On the 19th (Black, 1986, p. 394) under huge international

pressure and with the promise of funding and onward resettlement, the Thais reversed their

policy and created an ‘open door’, setting up camps in the interior. By the end of the month

another 130,000 people had flowed across the border (Black, 1986, p. 393) and within 3 months

over 160,000 were accommodated in holding centres (Rogge, 1990, p. 68) driving the number up

towards its 600-750,00046 December peak. During this hiatus the armed factions, especially the

KR, wanted to keep people in camps they controlled astride the border rather than moving to in

UN or NGO supported ones. Thai retention of control of all aid distribution allowed them to

exert influence and favour the KR and camps became fiefdoms and corrupt (Kamm, 1998, p.

176)

In Kampuchea widespread starvation and disease killed about 500,00047 Khmers (E.

Meng-Try, 1990, p. 9). International relief would save many (Chandler, 2008, p. 229) but

tensions flowing from PRK’s diplomatic pariah status precluded the expert UN agencies

delivering aid directly via the regime, or assisting the regime to distribute what it had: most

internal relief came from the Soviet bloc. In any case shortage of stock was only the start of the

problem. Distribution was grossly inefficient in a country without adequate transport,

communications or administrators (Leifer, 1980, p. 99). As late as April 1980, ships in docks

waited for weeks to be manually unloaded and stocks were then often not distributed onwards

(Kamm, 1998, p. 188). Compounding the unequivocal failure to feed the population, Vietnamese

insistence that some rice be left for seed was again misinterpreted (Vickery, 1984, pp. 220-230)

and there were consistent reports (M. A. Martin, 1994, pp. 218-219) of rice and other goods

being seized and diverted back to Vietnam which had similar harvest problems. In retrospect, a

policy of net rice exports seem unlikely given Vietnamese recognition of the importance of

imports to prop up the PRK (Kroef, 1979, p. 737). With inadequate facilities in Kampuchea,

early collections of stock may have been shifted to Vietnam where it could be stored. Vickery

(1984, pp. 220-230) also explains that rice had to be taken from elsewhere to be redistributed to

eastern areas and towns. Regardless of the truth, there was a perception of Vietnamese theft that

aggravated their failure to succour: the food shortages began to deeply alienate the population

and many PRK cadre (S. R. Heder, 1980, p. 46).

In early December international agencies established the first of several aid distribution

points forming a ‘land bridge’ across the Thai border (Black, 1986) to both ‘provide the

46 The demographer Meng-Try cites 750,000 (1981) Clodfelter puts this lower at 400,000 and Leifer at 500,000 (1980, p. 36) 47 Meng Try, (1981, p. 219) suggests a range of 5-10 % of the population, or 325,000 to 625,000 people.

Kampuchea Page 103

(violently contested) border provinces with aid and reduce total flows to border’ (Rogge, 1990,

p. 89). From far and wide people came to collect aid rice for their families until landbridge

activity reduced in early 1981 (Rogge, 1990, p. 90). It is estimated that ‘rice across the border

reached ¼ of the surviving population,’ although it took precious able-bodied labour from

preparing the wet crop (Leifer, 1980, p. 99). Vickery (1984, p. 205) suggests that most country

peasants making the trip returned, but concurrently many others arrived with the intention of

crossing into Thailand. The Thais became alarmed at the large numbers at the landbridge and in

early 1980 a new government announced a stricter new policy of ‘humane deterrence’. The

border was now closed and illegal crossers would be detained in ‘austere’ camps (Rogge, 1990,

p. 68) In keeping with this mood, in February and March the Thai began quiet ‘voluntary’

relocations of refugees, sometimes trucking as many as 200 families a night to these border

camps inside Thailand (Rogge, 1990, p. 39).


As the wet season began the PAVN stayed forward in strength to contain the anticipated

KR activity, accepting the cost to security operations in depth areas (Leifer, 1980, p. 94) where

they would develop the armed forces of the PRK (Bekaert, 1997, p. 13). On the border, the

Vietnamese had to consider four groupings: a longstanding but now swollen population of traders

and smugglers, refugees inside Thailand at UNHCR holding centres, refugees around the

landbridge distribution centres and the refugees and fighters mixed in factional camps astride or

on the Cambodian side of the frontier. The factions also gained power and prestige by variously

taxing those who passed through their zones or gathering them to their ranks. The smugglers

moved consumer goods into Cambodia and thus onwards to Vietnam, but also brought gold and

gems out (Rogge, 1990, pp. 79-80), a trade that most immediately benefitted Thai officials, but

spread corrupt influence into the PRK. Thus profit and power provided strong incentives to

maintain routes through military lines and minefields, assisting refugees and insurgents alike.

In their camps the KR began to rebuild and regroup with support from the Thai’s

(Brogan, 1990, p. 152) and Chinese weapons. They were disciplined and free of the cronyism

and gangster corruption surrounding many of their non-communist competitors; manipulation

was ruthless but for political benefit not personal ones. In their camps fighters were far better

treated and fed than refugees and the Thai ‘voluntary’ repatriation scheme filled the pool of

‘captive ‘refugees (Rowley, 2004, p. 402; Rungswasdisab, 2004, p. 98). Through the wet season

the KR increasingly mounted small (mostly about 10 man) hit-and-run attacks (Carney, 1982, p.

79) infiltrating past the PAVN to strike widely across border areas (Leifer, 1980, p. 94).

The Thai Army continued to forcibly relocate ‘volunteers’ by night to insurgent-

controlled camps, despite NGO concerns. In June 7500 refugees were moved as the first part of

a plan to relocate 100,000, which was approved by UNHCR but not PRK who saw it as


population reinforcement for resistance bases (Rogge, 1990, pp. 37, 48). This, more than

‘punishment’ or response to the resistance attacks (Carney, 1982, p. 79) suggested by Clodfelter

(2008, p. 669) was probably the trigger for a 2000 man raid into Thailand by the PAVN which

killed 22 Thais and abruptly halted the relocations (Rogge, 1990, p. 48).

October 1980-December 1981 Early Dry season

In the 1980-81 dry season began the KR began to attack outposts and lines of

communication in increased strength especially around Siem Reap (Bekaert, 1997, p. 13) forcing

the ‘PAVN to start using heavily armed convoys on route 6’ (Carney, 1990, pp. 79, 201). Despite

Chinese support, supplies were still limited, especially away from the Thai border and often the

KR attacked small groups of PAVN to get weapons and food (Bekaert, 1998, p. 95). The non-

communist resistance groups were fragmented and constituted little military threat (Carney,

1982, p. 79). Within Kampuchea western papers reported perceptible improvements in

conditions (Leifer, 1980, p. 97): an adequate main harvest and foreign aid had stabilised the

situation under a relatively benign administration (E. A. Meng-Try, 1981, p. 219) although the

reintroduction of collective agriculture to assure agricultural production was greatly resented (M.

A. Martin, 1994, p. 220).

As proven exponents of guerrilla warfare the Vietnamese clearly recognised that popular

support for a legitimate PRK was crucial. The PAVN sought ‘a less aggressive and more

tenable posture’ (Pike, 1982, p. 74) and in early 1981 pulled back troops from rural villages into

garrisons and consolidated, emphasising development of the PRK armed forces (Carney, 1982, p.

78). The Vietnamese were presumably still trying to maintain a fraternal relationship and alert to

the dangers of coercing support, because during an August Vickery (1984, p. 240) lamented the

fact that roads were in disrepair, but that assigning the duty to repair them to communities was

impossible because of KR associations. On the diplomatic stage the Vietnamese offered to

withdraw in return for international guarantees of excluding the KR from power, but with the US

and China inclined to punish and prevent Vietnam ‘benefiting’ from invasion, these proposals

failed (C. Paul et al., 2010a, p. 28).

Repression and Support in Phase I

The VTFS analysis assessed that the outcome of this phase favoured the Vietnamese.

This seems correct. Whilst there was undoubtedly already widespread resentment against the

Vietnamese and the communist and KR-tainted PRK because of the famine, the robust measures

applied during and after the invasion were not yet generally repressive in character: neither

increasing repression nor collective punishment were applied. The invasion and starvation had

almost destroyed the KR and left a population both uninclined to offer support and too weakened

to be able to. Negative sentiment was insufficient to counter-mobilise widespread support for the

Kampuchea Page 105

insurgents. Most people just wanted to live in peace and rebuild their lives. Most true

opponents, especially elites, had escaped and the remainder were probably ready to compromise

and give the regime a chance. If not, the non-communist resistance did not yet represent a

credible force and joining the KR had little appeal. Most insurgent violence was by the KR, who

were still a common enemy to Vietnamese and Khmer alike. The policy of the well disciplined

PAVN was explicitly to avoid alienating the Khmer and their actions were consistent with that

intent, notwithstanding local excesses.

4.2.2 Phase II: “Insurgency and Insecurity” (1981–1983)

Overview

Between 1981 and 1983 resistance to the occupation took on the character of a major

and widespread insurgency fuelled by external support and internal resentment. Substantial 48

Chinese, ASEAN and US support was delivered via and to the benefit of the Thais. Ruthlessly

exploiting its captive civilian populations and better supplies the KR continued to grow in

strength and capability. By 1982 under international pressure the non-communists and the KR

formed an uneasy coalition which the latter soon dominated. Training and reorganisation

occurred in relatively invulnerable camp complexes along the Thai border which represented a

growing threat to the PAVN who attacked them with increasing vigour, but indecisively as the

insurgents could flee into Thailand. As the insurgents began to conduct larger attacks deeper in

Kampuchea, increasingly robust measures to counter them weighed more heavily on the

population. The KR provided the military force that gave the coalition the capacity to contain

Vietnam, but this importance led to their culpability for genocide being ignored and kept any

compromise settlement out of reach.

January-October 1981

By 1981 KR had a coherent force of perhaps 40,000 whilst the non communist resistance

was weak, factionalised and riven by internal conflicts. Even the largest, the 9000-strong

KPNLF, had received few of the weapons it had been promised (Carney, 1982, p. 79). The

insurgents, mostly KR, continued to increase the scope and scale of their actions with small

teams conducting harassing tasks deeper into the country. Vickery reported that ‘insurgents lay

mines every night along major routes which have to be cleared by patrols every morning before

traffic can resume’ and every bridge has a Vietnamese guard posted (1984, p. 240). By using

larger groupings the KR were also able to continue to force the PAVN to move in large convoys

on route 6 between Siem Reap and Kompong Thom. Eastern bloc sources reported that across

48 Estimated value of about $USD 100 million per year (Kiernan, 2002, p. 488)


the country the PAVN were suffering up to 25 dead a day (Bekaert, 1997, p. 13). In response to

the growing threat the Vietnam increased its forces in country to 200,000 (Chang, 1983, p. 388).

October 1981-April 1982 Dry season

When the dry season began the PAVN mounted the first of a series of large combined

arms49 attacks on the border camps of the KPLNF and ANS who withdrew with light casualties

and the KR who resisted longer at higher cost, counterattacking the PAV logistic lines (Carney,

1983, pp. 73-75). The PAVN also appear to have used chemical weapons (McWilliams, 1983, p.

68). Despite the growing scale and intensity of the PAVN operations they were unable to deliver

decisive blows against an enemy on difficult jungle terrain with a sanctuary in easy reach; after

the PAVN withdrew the insurgents would typically reoccupy their bases. From there the KR in

particular continued to grow capability, now regularly moving deeper inside Kampuchea in well

armed groups of 200 each with 250 rounds for their AK’s and a bomb for the mortars (Bekaert,

1998, p. 96).

Faced with a growing threat in the interior the PAVN identified a need for defensive

works and put more pressure on the PRK to share the burden of the war. Early ‘attempts by the

PRK to recruit people to join the armed forces were largely unsuccessful. Factors included

survivor’s desire for simple family life, helping Vietnamese control and soldiers’ reputation as

extortionists – they were not paid.’ (Deth, 2009, pp. 107-108) In 1981 that the PRK introduced

conscription (Deth, 2009, p. 107) and began to press-gang recruits. In November it also began

levying peasants for two week socialist labour projects near their villages (M. A. Martin, 1994,

p. 222). The tasks included cutting down all the trees along the communication routes, repairing

roads (Slocomb, 2001, p. 199) and ‘building strategic fences around villages and defence works

on bridges and roads’ (Luciolli, 1988a, p. 12). These policies would prove extremely unpopular

and men would go to great lengths to avoid the press gangs (Deth, 2009, p. 109).

April -October 1982 Wet season

Early rains in April hastened PAVN withdrawal to garrisons (Carney, 1983, p. 76).

Development of the army and militia was stepped up along with labour on protective defence

works and route preparation; the forced levy and conscription generated growing hostility and

evasion. Promising PRK initiatives including an amnesty scheme (Carney, 1983, p. 78) and

prizes and cash incentives for labour works (Slocomb, 2001, p. 199) were undermined by

important realignments amongst the insurgents and their supporters. An indication was that in

May, China, which had been tardy with support to the non-communists, delivered the ANS 3,000

weapons promised a year earlier (Bekaert, 1997, p. 13). In June 1982, under pressure from their

49 Using armoured vehicles, artillery and engineers

Kampuchea Page 107

international anti-Vietnamese sponsors (Ablin & Hood, 1990, p. lv) the radical communist KR,

the republican KPNLF and the royalist ANS50 united to form the Coalition Government of

Democratic Kampuchea (CGDK) under the leadership of Sihanouk. At a stroke the KR gained

both legitimacy and a dominant position through its indispensible military strength and the

factional quarrels of the non-communists (Becker, 1984, p. 38). This ‘unlikely, unstable and

highly volatile mélange’ thus garnered ‘international recognition and generous financial,

military and logistic support’ from an equally unlikely alliance of China, the USA and other

Western powers, as well as ASEAN member states (T. Lum, 2007, pp. 2-3; Slocomb, 2001, p.

195). Motives varied between Thailand’s fear of Vietnamese military strength and ideology to

Malaysia’s concern to contain a potential wave of ethnic Chinese refugees (Chandra, 1990, p.

76).

Popular antipathy towards the KR was not removed by the formation of the coalition but,

having publicly made common cause, it’s ideologically opposed members would now fight each

other less often and eventually sometimes cooperate. This was not yet a serious challenge to the

PRK and its master, but a CGDK with powerful supporters sowed the seeds of the heady notion

of an alternative government in the future. Debriefing of PRK civil servants fleeing to Thailand

highlighted that the coalition under Sihanouk was popular, and was increasing support for the

insurgency within Kampuchea. This popularity took material form. In July it was reported that

in the previous two years over 33,000 refugees had elected to return from UNHCR interior

camps to ANS border sites (Carney, 1983, pp. 79-81). During the wet season now better armed

non-communists followed the KR pattern and collectively the insurgents were increasingly able

to undermine security in rural areas and interdict or close major routes (Carney, 1983, p. 76). In

September a larger KPLNF force penetrated 12 km from the border to assault PAVN Vietnamese

security positions, inflicting over 100 casualties causing checkpoints to be withdrawn (Carney,

1990, p. 198) and Grandolini (2004) reported that now ‘supply columns had to be escorted by a

squad of tanks. Small KPLNF teams also ventured deep into the interior on sabotage and

propaganda missions’ (Carney, 1983, p. 76) This was a significant change, because although KR

teams had long had a deep reach, their methods of gaining support were reputed to be brutal,

whereas the non-communists sought to persuade. The KPNLF claimed to take great care with

population, never taking anything from them, carrying own food in, trying to give assistance to

civilians and avoiding compromising them (Bekaert, 1997, pp. 39-41) such deep missions with

frequent contact with the population implied that they were not being betrayed.

50 Strictly speaking, the political grouping was the United National Front for an Independent, Neutral, Peaceful, and Cooperative Cambodia (FUNCINPEC).



In late 1982 the focus of the conscripted labour shifted to defensive clearing projects

cutting swaths in the forests and clearing around villages (M. A. Martin, 1994, p. 222), in order to

isolate insurgents from food and information and incidentally harvesting valuable timber. As the

dry season began the PAVN carried out even larger multi-regimental combined arms attacks to

destroy camps of the three factions. Having clashed with Thai troops (Becker, 1984, p. 40),

proved unwilling to risk major manoeuvre into Thailand and so again could not inflict decisive

losses on the withdrawing insurgents (Becker, 1984, p. 41). Kroef suggests that the Soviets may

have been restraining the PAVN here (1984, p. 318). In April Chinese artillery shelled

Vietnamese border regions in possible retaliation for the PAVN offensives (Chanda, 1984, p. 34).

Generally insurgent resistance of the camps did not last long, but both sides reported that new

weaponry in the form of recoilless anti armour weapons defending had been important in the

successful defence of an ANS base (Bekaert, 1997, p. 35). As the PAVN withdrew it began

constructing a 3m deep spiked ditch, the ‘Van Can defensive line’ parallel with the border to

reduce cross-border infiltrations (Becker, 1984, p. 40). Concurrently, the insurgents once again

reoccupied their bases and emerged to mount harassing attacks (Carney, 1990, p. 205). These

camps as Kroef (1984, p. 315) explained, ‘with their refugee markets, health clinics, and even

school facilities, are simultaneously rebel command posts, refugee havens, centers (sic) for

diverse black market and covert intelligence-gathering activities, and rival political-military

recruiting grounds-all operating in a frontier no-man's-land with a floating population mass’.

In 1983 Thai policies moved refugees back to border areas (Becker, 1984, p. 39) simply

increasing the pool for coercive or voluntary recruitment. So despite inflicting major damage the

Vietnamese had not reduced resistance levels, indeed the KR now had a reequipped force of

50,000 soldiers (Becker, 1984, p. 41). The PRK also ‘took its eye off the ball’, understanding

that it must head towards self reliance, it shifted attention to what it considered vital: political

control. This proved a distraction as factional conflicts between ex-KR and ex-Khmer Viet Minh

resurfaced within the regime; three years of initial economic recovery now stalled whilst bad

weather reduced the harvest (Becker, 1984, pp. 39, 44).


The factional conflicts within the regime coincided with increasing reports of bad

behaviour by the Vietnamese, increasing Khmer resentment of Vietnamese immigration and

tensions between PRK and PAVN troops including allegations that a PRK division had to be

disarmed. These reports were consistent with KPNLF claims that ‘The PRK never attack us’ and

gained real substance when the Vietnamese, rather than the PRK began arresting nationalist

sympathisers (Bekaert, 1997, pp. 39-41). In May they arrested 300 PRK officials including

security police, causing up to 20,000 to flee for the borders or resistance areas (Becker, 1984, p.

Kampuchea Page 109

44). From amongst 7450 refugees arriving at KPNLF sites, its commander General Sak claimed

consistent accounts of repressive behaviour and collective punishment. In addition to numerous

allegations of rape and claims that most of what was produced was going to the Vietnamese, he

described Vietnamese policy changes that align with Radio Hanoi announcements that the PRK

will replace the PAVN on the border and were consistent with the practice of press-ganging

recruits. ‘Old men and young women forced to do heavy work in the fields and must find their

own food. Young men and women from 14-45 are sent to perform hard labour or have to

volunteer for the army. Those resisting are separated from their families and if they escape the

family is subject to retaliation’ (Bekaert, 1997, pp. 39-41). Refugees arriving in June also told a

consistent story. The men from a family had to join a working group or the army, so fearing

repression the rest of the family escaped in the direction of the border. Repression might also

occur for showing sympathy with the insurgents or irritation at the Vietnamese (Bekaert, 1997, p.

39). It was reported that 40 people were arrested and falsely accused of giving rice to KR after

an attack in the area. In August refugees arriving in Thailand claimed the situation was worse

and the PAVN were getting nervous. Defectors detailed violent armed clashes between PAVN

and PRK forces apparently stemming from a presumably accidental ambush by PAVN (Bekaert,

1997, pp. 52-53) and in September there were more accounts of KPRAF mutinies, defections and

contact with insurgents (Bekaert, 1997, p. 54). The effect of this new Vietnamese attitude was

reportedly to demoralise PRK officials (Bekaert, 1997, p. 42).

October 1983-December 1984 Dry season half

By the end of 1983, the five year Vietnamese occupation of Cambodia that had rescued

the population from the KR genocide and begun to rebuild a country from scratch was running

into problems.

UN and voluntary agency officials pointed to impressive strides by the Phnom Penh

authorities in restoring a shattered infrastructure and re-establishing primary education and basic

health services in much of the country. But Vietnam's 200,000 troops stood accused of growing

abuse and indiscipline in the countryside. Rising resentment of the Vietnamese presence, some

observers felt, was driving people toward the border and giving new fuel to the resistance forces,

particularly the Khmer Rouge (Robinson, 2000, p. 29).

The PAVN also was becoming resentful at ‘having borne the brunt of the defence of

Cambodia's border with Thailand’ (Slocomb, 2001, p. 197) and, as they saw it, protected the

population from vengeful KR with only desultory Kampuchean support (as evidenced by

avoidance of conscription and the limited capacity of the PRK army). By now, ‘the full length of

Cambodia’s border with Thailand was a series of refugee camps and rebel strongholds‘(C. Paul

et al., 2010a, p. 28). The intensity of insurgency was increasing and the KR in particular seemed

to be reactivating stay behind units and establishing bases deep within Kampuchea (Becker,


1984, p. 43). As the rains ended the PAVN began the usual dry season camp attacks, but faced

with a growing insurgency and recognising from their own experience against the French and US

the impossibility of hunting down mobile small guerrilla groups the Vietnamese decided on a

different approach: to isolate the insurgents from the vital external support. The Kampucheans

would do the job.

Repression and Support in Phase II

The VTFS analysis assessed that the period between 1981 and 1983 had a mixed

outcome favouring the insurgents. This reflects the growing strength and capability of the

insurgency operating from the invulnerable border camps with extensive international support

and the failure of the PAVN to inflict decisive blows. The VTFS analysis codes for increasing

repression and describes the evident PAVN and PRK shift in attitude, especially concerning

conscription of various kinds. The PAVN were also unable to prevent the insurgent force

growing. VTFS analysis codes the phase as not yet being ‘able to reduce important internal

support for the insurgent’ which also seems valid. The organisational measures and security

works certainly did make insurgent contact with the villages more difficult, but their unpopularity

offset that benefit. Negative sentiment towards Vietnamese rose dramatically during this phase

and was strongly linked with recruitment of refugees into the insurgent forces.

4.2.3 Phase III: “COIN Push and the K5 Plan” (1984–1985)

Overview and the K-5 Plan

In 1984 and 1985 the Vietnamese, commenced the K-5 plan: their ‘Blueprint to end the

Cambodian conflict’ (Deth, 2009, p. 109). After careful logistic battlefield preparation, the

PAVN, with KPRAF support, conducted a series of major offensive operations to destroy the

border camps and drive the insurgents back into Thailand. After doing so, and using conscripted

labour, they began to build a massive obstacle belt the length of the border and then deployed the

KPRAF to secure it against infiltration. The coercion required to raise labour and the suffering

amongst the workforce crystallised already latent resentment against the Vietnamese.

The plan was for a continuous barrier between 500m and 2km wide, located 10km back

from the border with Thailand and running the whole 829 km of the from Laos to the sea.

Although its design evolved and was intended to vary according to geography and proximity to

insurgent infiltration routes, key elements included: a 500m wide cleared strip, minefields

enclosed by barbed wire fences, 2.5 m deep ditch lined with metal spikes and a corresponding

earth wall, patrol paths, small fortifications, watchtowers and searchlights (Chanda, 1987, p. 117;

Deth, 2009, p. 110; Slocomb, 2001, p. 198). The scheme called for conscripting a labour force of

200,000 for which the entire young male population of Kampuchea was liable. For each of

Kampuchea Page 111

several tours of duty a year, the population would have to provide a quota of labourers to be

trucked to the border to provide a continuous workforce of many thousands in each of three

zones (Slocomb, 2001, pp. 198, 201).

January-May 1984 Dry season half

In early 1984 as plans began to be secretly made 51 for K5, and two new PAVN divisions

moved into western Kampuchea (Bekaert, 1997, pp. 146-147) the intensity of the insurgency

continued to increase although propaganda by both sides makes accurate details difficult to

determine. Non-communists reported going further still into the country and that going to

“Tonle Sap is surprisingly easy” and that “PAVN were staying in the cities” which is consistent

with their demonstrated capacity to mass up to 250-300 fighters for attacks including one

destroying most of an army fuel depot and burning a significant part of the outskirts of Siem

Reap (Bekaert, 1997, p. 76; Eiland, 1985, pp. 106-108). Refugees reported increasing emphasis

on militia security measures in the villages with the PAVN conducting unannounced tests at

night and punishing village leaders for failures (Bekaert, 1998, pp. 136-138). Reporting from

both sides suggested that the insecurity was limited to the countryside. In April a diplomat told

Bekaert (1997, p. 85) that there was no feeling of insecurity in the capital, support for Sihanouk

came from intellectuals and that poor people recalled that they were not better off in the old days.

Clearer evidence for an increasing insurgent challenge was the need for the PAVN to carry out

large scale operations against bases in the interior as well as on the border. Here, attacks on

camps for the first time involved the KPRAF (Eiland, 1985, pp. 106-108).


The insurgents were optimistic as the rains arrived; the outlook seemed good and

Sihanouk could tell Bekeart (1997, p. 119) that they had more than 60,000 men and next year it

could be 100,000. The first sign of a changed strategy was that the PAVN remained deployed

forwards, in the positions that they had seized or dug in as close as 2km from the insurgent camps

in Thailand, feinting and patrolling aggressively to keep the insurgents unbalanced (Eiland, 1985,

pp. 106-108). Probably coincidentally, external pressure was also applied to Vietnam and several

division sized battles were fought with China on the northern border (Eiland, 1985, p. 110) and

the US Congress voting money for "non-lethal" assistance for the insurgents (Robinson, 2000, p.

30), but this is only likely to have stiffened Vietnamese resolve to act. For the PRK, difficulties

in recruiting soldiers let to subterfuge: men were recruited as police, and then sent to the front

(M. A. Martin, 1994, p. 257). As the rainy season drew to a close in September the mass

mobilisation of conscripted civilian labour under K-5 began. Quotas were set successively at

51 Planning began in January and k5 was formally adopted in July (Deth, 2009, p. 110; Slocomb, 2001, pp. 197-198).


from province, district, commune, and village level: families provided as directed, often sending

women or adolescents in place of unavailable men (Luciolli, 1988b, pp. 107-108). The first levy

was set to work improving and clearing the sides of roads in the border areas of operations

(Slocomb, 2001, pp. 200-201).


In November the PRK introduced regulations strictly restricting movement, requiring it

to be variously approved and reported and also began a mass propaganda effort. The ‘krom

samakai’ committee structure which already carried the onus for identifying labourers for K-5

was now expected to encourage defection from the insurgent ranks: effectively this began to

reinforce the repressive system of team or village leader liability for transgressions of individuals:

collective punishment (Bekaert, 1998, pp. 136-138; Slocomb, 2001, p. 204).

In mid-December a massive offensive commenced with 75% of the reinforced PAVN

force committed (Bekaert, 1997, p. 153). Infantry divisions with tanks and artillery support,

taking advantage of the improved road system, manoeuvred to envelop the insurgent camps in

turn, first the KPNLF, then the KR then the ANS. All were systematically swept clear of those

insurgents and supporters who had not already fled into Thailand. Stocks of food and

ammunition were captured and the camp complexes destroyed (Slocomb, 2001, pp. 196, 202).

At the end of the dry season ‘in June no resistance base remained intact on Cambodian soil... all

three factions were thrown temporarily off balance, and lost much of their infrastructure in the

border area’ (Eiland, 1986, pp. 119-120). By July there were 220,000 persons displaced to

evacuation sites inside Thailand (Rogge, 1990, p. 49). This separated the military populations

from the civilian who were placed in UNHCR camps which had the consequence of forcing a

shift to establish more bases deep within Kampuchea itself, which the KR had long been

advocating (Bekaert, 1997, pp. 161, 150; Duiker, 1986, p. 103).

Despite the military activity at the border which had virtually ended all trading activity

(Bekaert, 1997, p. 161), the refugees did not stop coming, indeed after the first tour of

conscripted labour more people fled (M. A. Martin, 1994, pp. 224-225). As well as bringing

reports of brutality, rape and pillaging by PAVN soldiers (M. A. Martin, 1994, p. 227), Bekaert

reported a shift in declared refugee motivation from escape towards wishing to fight the

‘strangling’ Vietnamese. Refugee complaints included indiscriminate recruiting, no pay and little

food for labourers and arrest and jailing of people for refusing to join labour teams (1997, pp.

146-147). They also reported with approval accidental clashes between PRK and PAVN and

confirmed perceptions of Vietnamese colonialism through domination of the administration and

increasing migration of civilians from Vietnam (Eiland, 1985, pp. 106, 112, 109).

We know from Slocomb (2001, pp. 199-202) that PRK records that the K-5 plan had

called for 32,000 workers in the first year but that 90,362 were actually deployed and

Kampuchea Page 113

construction rates exceeded. Perhaps ideological fervour and inexperience amongst the PRK

administrators drove this, which might partially explain the reported acute shortages of food,

shelter, medical support and transport. Labourers were given a only few hours notice to prevent

them absconding, loaded on a truck and when they reached the operations area might have to

walk for several days to the work site, where at night they were herded into clearings surrounded

by mines to prevent escape.

Guarded by Vietnamese or Cambodian soldiers, they ‘laboured for eight to ten hours a

day, cutting down trees, digging trenches, mining and de-mining, building roads, and

transporting ammunition, equipment, and corpses. Twice a day, they ate together, although

there was rarely enough food’ (Gottesman, 2002, pp. 233-234).

For untrained labourers clearing or planting mines and felling trees was dangerous and

killed and injured many, but even more dangerous were the virulent strains of malaria in the

jungle that quickly infected a large proportion of the workforce. With inadequate food and

medical care large numbers died or were debilitated, and those returning to their villages infected

others. Figures are difficult to establish 52 but certainly many thousands perished from accidents

or disease (Slocomb, 2001, pp. 200-203). With rural peasants least able to pay the bribes to

evade the K-5 conscription a significant number of fit workers were taken from agricultural

production (Slocomb, 2001, p. 205). Compounding this was that the previous year had seen

drought followed by floods which left food shorter than any time since 1979 (Eiland, 1985, p.

109).


This time as the rains came the PAVN stayed forward in strength, aggressively patrolling

and conducting frequent probes into Thai territory. KPRAF units now occupied many of the K-5

defences (Eiland, 1986, p. 119). By mid 1985 about 300 km of barrier had been built: better than

expected but only across the major infiltration routes at this stage (Slocomb, 2001, p. 198).

However, along and behind the K-5 line the PAVN also conducted large battalion sweep

operations preventing movement, often forcing insurgents to return to base. The difficulty was

acknowledged by an ANS General who said that “infiltration is still possible but very dangerous”

(Bekaert, 1997, pp. 188, 222). Nevertheless some movement of guerrillas to the interior resumed

almost immediately (Eiland, 1986, pp. 120-121) and one explanation reported by foreign

journalists was that KPRAF troops often aided and abetted their resistance counterparts by

allowing them to pass through the barrier (Slocomb, 2001, p. 206).

52 Luciolli (1988b) has claimed the malaria mortality to be 10% with deaths to be as high as 50,000 of a million labourers, but Slocomb (2001, p. 202) shows that the total labour figure for the specific K-5 project was no more than 250,000.


The PAVN dry season offensive had inflicted casualties, destroyed camps, captured

supplies and (to some extent) separated fighting personnel from their civilian ‘pool’. This

massive disruption was compounded by internal conflicts within the KPNLF, violent clashes

between the non-communists and the KR and civilians trying to leave the control of the latter

(Bekaert, 1997, p. 192; Eiland, 1986, pp. 120-121). This blow and the greater difficulty of

infiltration and exfiltration across the border reduced the level of insurgent attacks: PAVN

spokesmen observed that “we have forced them deep into the jungle” (Bekaert, 1997, p. 182).

However as an unintended consequence it encouraged the development of alternative small bases

deep in Kampuchea (C. Paul et al., 2010a, p. 30) and this shift occurred at a time that hostility to

the PAVN was dramatically increasing because of ongoing resentment about Vietnamese

immigration, shortages of food and especially the new PRK repression associated with

conscription for K-5 and the KPRAF. After the first group to work on the border returned

without those that had died, and mostly sick with malaria the following tours often had to be

press-ganged (Slocomb, 2001, p. 202) with threats of collective punishment that Bekaert (1997,

p. 42) describes as starting in 1983.

Signs of disaffection included June attacks on Vietnamese settlers (Bekaert, 1997, p.

175) and there was strong evidence of growing support for the insurgents extending even into the

PRK itself. In August a small ANS team trained by the UK SAS went into Siam Reap where a

sleeper agent put them in touch with KPRAF soldiers, enabling the team to plant bombs that

destroyed an ammunition depot and killed 30 PAVN at a transport depot: internal complicity was

confirmed when the agent was caught and shot (Bekaert, 1997, pp. 213-214). Taking advantage

of growing nationalistic and anti-Vietnamese feeling (Bekaert, 1997, p. 182) the ANS were

quickly able to have over half their 10,000 fighters operating within Kampuchea (Eiland, 1986,

pp. 120-121). The disliked KR could also find support in the villages but it was less clear how

much this was coerced at gunpoint in villages where there was no militia yet. They were in any

case more used to ‘living off the land’: the fish of Tonle Sap lake being one reason for their

activity around it (Bekaert, 1997, pp. 182, 185). Certainly they were also able to infiltrate a

sizable proportion of their 40,000 troops into the country and attack lightly defended and isolated

points and cut rail lines (Eiland, 1986, pp. 120-121) as well as conduct terrifying raids on district

and commune offices (Slocomb, 2001, p. 207). Although the resurgence of attacks was not at

previous levels of wet season activity, it was the background to a September PRK decree that

mobilised the entire able bodied male population aged 15-30 for five years service in the

KPRAF. Both sexes aged between 16 and 55 (for women) and 60 (for men) were liable to serve

with the militia (Slocomb, 2001, p. 202).

Kampuchea Page 115

October 1985-December 1985 Dry season (First half)

Work on the K-5 plan continued and by the end of the year the barrier was practically

finished, although declining levels of conscription continued for two years (Slocomb, 2001, p.

201). The construction work was ahead of target but at enormous human cost and thus cost in

PRK legitimacy. To compound this, national food shortages were aggravated by shortfalls in

agricultural labour flowing from conscription (Eiland, 1986, p. 122). Refugee reporting appears

to suggest trends in increasing repressive behaviour at about this time53 by the PAVN. For

example, Martin, (1994, p. 221) reported their seizing goods, committing acts of vandalism and

making statements justifying their actions through having liberated the country: a distinct

deviation from the ‘fraternal solidarity’ line enforced earlier. It also seems that as people

increasingly tried to evade conscription, penalties were being applied by the local authorities,

themselves captive in a system controlled by the Vietnamese. Many observers (Bekaert, 1997, p.

231) considered ‘resentment of Vietnamese could become a genuine local resistance’: but by

inference that stage had not yet been reached.

A reduced presence of the non-communist insurgents in the interior in later 1985, (KR

presence probably increased) was attributed to internal conflicts following the disruption and

relocations forced on the insurgents rather than the undoubted increased difficulties of passing the

barrier (Bekaert, 1997, p. 228). According to Luciolli (1988a, p. 13) Bekaert’s (unavailable)

view, initially at least, was ‘that the bamboo wall was useless as it would not last and the forest

would grow over it...if not thoroughly guarded it would be ineffective’. The barrier was

increasingly to be guarded by the reluctant, underpaid and underfed conscripts of the KPRAF

who were hardly reliable. The numbers were also inadequate. The ‘iron curtain’ that divided

East and West Germany was half as long again, but a highly sophisticated layered barrier. It

required in excess of 35,000 guards and was still penetrable (Rottman & Taylor, 2008, pp. 4, 5,

12). To adequately secure the much cruder K-5 barrier, given that defenders might be attacked in

strength, would have required something in excess of 100,000 troops, twice the figure that the

KPRAF forces ever achieved.

External support levels were a factor in constraining both sides. Pao-min (1987, p. 756)

observed that Thailand was deliberately constraining aid from China in order to manage its

influence on Indochinese affairs. ‘External aid to the resistance forces channelled through

Thailand has been sufficient to keep them operationally viable but not sufficient for them to

achieve any break-through on the battlefield, much less a decisive victory’. An even greater

constraint was emerging on the counterinsurgents. In March, Gorbachev became Soviet leader

and by this time it was clear that he would be cutting economic aid to satellite countries (Kamm,

53 In September and October, however


1998, p. xxi). A continued large-scale PAVN presence in Kampuchea would simply be

unsustainable.

Repression and Support in Phase III


outcome favouring the counterinsurgents. This reflects the advantage gained by eradication of

the border camps and the establishment of the K-5 barrier that was already partially offset by the

political costs of conscriptions. VTFS coding for increasing repression and collective

punishment is supported by increasingly hostile behaviour of the PAVN and PRK brutal

administration of the labour levy. VTFS coding that the insurgents were unable to maintain force

size is equally evident in the blows inflicted by the 85/86 PAVN offensive. However the VTFS

coding that internal support to insurgents was significantly reduced is less clear-cut. It does seem

likely that the PRK security crackdown that held community leaders responsible for contacts

with the insurgents made such actions more risky for the populace, whilst physical security

measures made such contact more risky for the insurgents. A lack of food and reduced available

manpower in the villages correspondingly reduced latent support. Multiple accounts indicate

however, that after a hiatus of several months, the level of insurgents operating in the interior (as

opposed to border areas) remained at a similar order, even if somewhat reduced and that

increased contact was occurring even with the disliked KR. In particular credible KPNLF and

ANS claims that they both gave to and regularly purchased food from the population have

survived retrospection. The loss of support suggested by VTFS was thus in practical terms

probably marginal at best. Crucially, whilst the PRK amnesty programme certainly produced

defections, there are no indications that the repressive measures translated into actionable

intelligence information for the counterinsurgents. On the contrary, at this time such intelligence

seems to have been flowing to the insurgents.

This is an important finding: at the time when the counterinsurgent had a psychological

and material advantage, superficially useful coercive methods did not appear to have delivered

results. This will be examined further later.

4.2.4 Phase IV: “Stalemate” (1986–1989)

Overview

The PAVN 84/85 offensive and the K-5 Plan had disrupted the insurgents and

constrained their capacity in the country. Unintended consequences were that all groups were

forced to operate deep in Kampuchea and concentrate on propaganda and infiltration. This was

successful in a population that was alienated from the PRK. Violence levels fluctuated until the

Vietnamese pulled out most of their forces in 1988, after which the insurgents initially avoided

battle and just took over from withdrawing PAVN forces in the country, increasingly gaining

Kampuchea Page 117

control of agricultural land before switching to raiding attacks on the cities. Their operations

were at a level that did not bring the PAVN back in strength nor mobilise the population against

the insurgents. The latter could not gain permanent control of the cities or routes whilst the

KPRAF/PAVN could control any area it concentrated on but could not clear the insurgents from

a province, much less the country: it was a stalemate.

January-May 1986 Dry season (Second half)

In early 1986 there were increasing insurgent attacks including joint operations by the

KR and ANS in Battambang and other areas (Chanda, 1987, p. 116) and clashes between PAVN

and the KPRAF. The PRK extended military length of service indefinitely (Slocomb, 2001, p.

202) and there were associated reports of major desertions (Bekaert, 1997, p. 244). Reports from

ANS soldiers in February said that they had received support from villagers: the border ‘wall

construction was a great obsession with them and the men were eager to help’ (the insurgents).

KPRAF soldiers encountered via villager intermediaries were demoralised and were only trusted

with 60 rounds for their rifles: they wanted nothing to do with the KR or the Vietnamese and

would even give the insurgents free rice (Bekaert, 1997, p. 252). Prince Ranariddh gave a

slightly different ANS perspective, presumably describing operations in different areas. He said

that it was ‘still possible to go past the wall … What is more complicated is to survive inside ...

people are poor and have little that we can buy .. .land is flat and exposed without forests and

mountains ... weapons and ammunition are no problem – we can buy them from the PRK

soldiers’ (Bekaert, 1997, p. 240). Detailed accounts of the March ANS/KR attack in Battambang

indicated growing capability. During the 150km infiltration the 900 ANS men passed in three

groups through a K-5 zone with ‘minefields but no ‘barrage’’ (sic), suggesting that the insurgents

exploited incomplete sections. At the KR’s suggestion, elements from all three insurgent groups

married up and attacked, supported by KR 107mm rocket artillery and to the insurgents surprise

the PAVN defenders quickly retreated into the town. A later PAVN attack on the withdrawing

attackers supported by helicopters and artillery was beaten off by mining defiles (Bekaert, 1997,

p. 279).


In the wet season the attacks continued but could not be increased as in the past because

of the constrained supply across the K-5 (Chanda, 1987, p. 116). This was despite a steady

increase in insurgents in country reported by PRK sources and it appears insurgent effort was

shifting towards propaganda (Deth, 2009, pp. 103,118). Some analysts thought that the ‘military

balance had shifted in favour of the PRK ... the price was the discontent and alienation of large

numbers of its citizens’ (Chanda, 1987, p. 118). In June Vietnam and Thailand began informal

talks aimed at a negotiated settlement (Kamm, 1998, p. xxi).



Although by the end of 1986 the capital had grown to 700,000 and was vibrant, with

border-smuggled goods available, there had been little investment and a drought: conditions in

the countryside remained bleak (Chanda, 1987, p. 120). Refugees described the Vietnamese as

being ‘too heavy’ and when making demands, ‘if they were not given, then they took’. In the

villages fencing was stepped up, and a proportion of rice was being taken as tax and to prevent it

reaching the insurgents (Bekaert, 1998, pp. 17-16). The PRK continued to conscript ‘national

defence labour’ on the border (Chanda, 1988, p. 106) although the programme reduced (Luciolli,

1988a, p. 14) as the Vietnamese claimed that the K-5 obstacle was now almost complete.

Bekaert (1998, pp. 16, 17, 21, 27) noted that the KR was still managing to bring huge

quantities of supplies across and ANS accounts from patrols concentrating on propaganda

missions and infiltration described penetrating by breaching the minefield with explosives. PRK

priority was now placed on building the army and militias, but recruiting remained difficult with

desertion common, so conscription was permanently extended from 3 to 5 years (Chanda, 1988,

pp. 107, 118). As 1987 began there were further reports of PRK arbitrary arrests, torture and

imprisonment as well as reports of summary executions, but Chanda (1988, p. 110) noted that

similar activities were reported in the KPLNF and KR camps.


In May the PAVN launched large-scale several-month long search and destroy

operations mostly in the west of the country where they seized many caches and forced

insurgents to the border. Western military experts thought that the insurgents were being kept on

the run (Bekaert, 1998, p. 55). Martin (1994, pp. 222-225) cites Hun Sen saying as late as June

1986 that “we are going to hermetically seal the border” which makes it clear that it had not yet

been closed.


As the dry season started the PAVN kept the pressure up on the insurgents and swept

border areas before pulling back 20-30 km from the borders into supporting positions (Slocomb,

2001, p. 208). Infiltration was now clearly more difficult across a border that in places now

included floodlights and watch towers. The main weakness was complicity of KPRAF force

with insurgents especially the nationalists, and its inadequate size: the total KPRAF was about

30,000 at the end of 1987 (Chanda, 1988, pp. 107, 118)

In 1988 the change drivers were again external. Vietnam and the PRK could see loss of

Soviet support looming as the USSR withdrew from Afghanistan and began to talk to China.

Vietnamese desire for economic engagement shifted their negotiating position which coincided

(rather than triggered) a relaxing of Chinas position (Cima, 1989, pp. 69-71): this was relative,

Kampuchea Page 119

for the two countries managed to engage in a major naval clash over the Spratley Islands in

which the Vietnamese lost at least two ships. The Machiavellian manipulation of the conflict is

indicated by the US confirming reports of massive KR stockpiling with Hanoi before delivering

compensating increased arms to the ANS (Cima, 1989, p. 71). Vietnamese withdrawals, which

had been made for years only to be followed by rotations, now seemed increasingly real as they

pulled back from frontier areas.

In April PAVN General Tra Cong Man briefed journalists that the KR were

concentrating on political and psychological warfare, causing about 6-10 incidents of sabotage,

kidnappings and mine explosions a day: they were capable of creating problems but not of

occupying the country (Bekaert, 1998, p. 97). With this level of activity, mostly in central and

western areas, the fighting was at its lowest level in the conflict. Diplomats noted that the KR

had begun preparing for eventual Vietnamese withdrawal, avoiding direct confrontation and

occupying positions vacated by the Vietnamese pull-back, especially on the western border, and

infiltrating targeted villages (Um, 1989, p. 79). This was following the pattern already set by the

ANS; however the KPNLF was almost collapsing from internal divisions (Bekaert, 1998, p. 55)


In May 1988 the Vietnamese announced that they would with draw 50,000 troops by the

end of the year and in June withdrew its military command structure and most if its advisors.

The remaining force of 40,000, mostly positioned in depth 30km from the Thai border, was

placed under nominal command of the KPRAF.


The build up of insurgent forces continued and by early 1989 activity across the country

was shifting back to large scale attacks with strikes on cities and increasingly denying the PRK

control and use of up to half of their agricultural areas in border provinces (Slocomb, 2001, p.

208). Although KR forces were the most aggressive the now 20,000 strong ANS was becoming

increasingly conventionally capable for example in December an attack by 160 fighters cleared

six PAVN/PRK positions along route 68: which may also have been evidence of an increasing

reluctance of KPRAF to fight, especially against nationalists (Bekaert, 1998, pp. 164, 195).

Under this pressure, in April 1989 the PRK began symbolic economic and constitutional

reforms, shifting to a free market orientation, renaming itself the State of Cambodia (SOC) re-

establishing monarchical symbols and abolishing capital punishment, although retaining firm

one-party control via the Cambodian People’s Party (CPP). The shift from idealism to

pragmatism was also associated with dramatic increases in corruption by those in authority. The

KPRAF was renamed the Cambodian People’s Armed Forces (CPAF). Many civilian migrants

also returned to Vietnam, fearful of the future (Um, 1990, p. 99).


Repression and Support in Phase IV

The VTFS analysis assessed that the period between 1986 and 1989 had a ‘mixed

outcome favouring the insurgents’. This reflects their recovery and adaption after the PAVN

offensive and especially the loss of support for the regime, but may overstate the case as the SOC

was consolidating itself quite effectively. The VTFS coding for increasing repression is clear

from the record and whilst the ‘absent’ coding for collective punishment reflects the reduced

coercion as the K-5 scaled down, it continued to be applied for other tasks. VTFS coding also

reflects the growing insurgent strength and internal support that flow principally from the loss of

legitimacy due to conscription activity. This shift in internal support across Phases II, III and IV

support will be the focus of further analysis.

Overall, the improved security levels from Phase III offensive and K-5 were lost in this

phase, especially after PAVN withdrawals and whilst PRK/SOC control in the heartland and

chosen areas of effort was good, elsewhere in the countryside the insurgents could operate freely.

4.2.5 Phase V: “Post-occupation Collapse of the Puppets” (1989–1992)

This phase will not be part of the analysis and so is brief, sufficient to give an

understanding of the final trajectory of key issues.

Overview

By September 1989 the Vietnamese had withdrawn and the forces of the PRK/SOC

were unable to contain the insurgents who shifted increasingly to conventional operations as they

steadily captured most of north western Kampuchea and advanced towards the centre of the

country. However the SOC proved more durable than predicted and the insurgents could not

wrest control of the heartland. Concurrently, international factors pushed the parties towards a

settlement agreement signed in 1991. The royalists won the election but were forced into a

coalition with the Hun Sen group, sidelining the KR who boycotted the event. Later Hun Sen

recovered power via a series of manoeuvres that culminated in a coup.


In early summer 1989 the Vietnamese decided to withdraw. This may be seen as cutting

their losses (Pike, 1989, p. 845) or ‘mission accomplished’ (Thayer, 2011). Officially they

completed the move in September, although probably some elements remained behind and over

the following years small PAVN elements would return to Kampuchea in a ‘fire brigade’ role

(Bekaert, 1998, p. 6). The defence was now ‘in the hands of up to 50,000 CPAF troops and

between 100,000 and 220,000 ill-equipped district and commune-level militia’ (Slocomb, 2001,

p. 209) who were ‘attempting to contain what the larger and better trained and motivated

Kampuchea Page 121

Vietnamese could not’ (M. A. Martin, 1994, p. 257). Given Khmer unwillingness to fight, about

5000 demobilised Vietnamese soldiers were brought in as ‘mercenaries’ to fill out local defence

units (M. A. Martin, 1994, p. 257). The district and province authorities took control of their

own militias which were stiffened by absorbing some regular units. The increased autonomy, the

threat of a KR return, a massive injection of Soviet military assistance and release from a role as

lackey of the Vietnamese may account for the militias beginning to resist more effectively and

the small PRK/SOCAF growing in competence (Rowley, 2004, p. 207; Slocomb, 2001, p. 209;

Um, 1990, pp. 100-102), notwithstanding difficulties in conscripting and keeping soldiers.

At withdrawal the insurgents were continuing to grow and prepare for conventional

operations, taking delivery of small numbers of heavy artillery pieces: the Chinese ignored the

withdrawal and continued to support the KR. More surprising was that there continued to be

international support for KR involvement now that the containing-Vietnam rationale had lapsed

(Cima, 1990, p. 89). According to a senior PAVN spokesman, the PRK/SOC/SOC was facing

40,000 KR, 13,000 KPNLF and the ANS 17,000 (Bekaert, 1998, p. 190). Both sides were now

fighting to secure as much political influence and territory as possible, whilst preserving military

strength. More intense fighting now focussed on economic or politically symbolic objectives, for

example control of the gemstone area of Pailin. Elsewhere the insurgents, the KR in particular,

continued to follow up the withdrawing PRK/SOC and reoccupy old camps but concentrated

military operations on infiltration and raiding. Despite being deeply distrusted, the KR was

reported to have maintained ‘sleeper agents’ at village level and was penetrating the previously

secure zone 40km around Phnom Penh (Rowley, 2004, p. 207; Um, 1990, pp. 100-102),.


During the dry season the insurgents continued to advance and create new bases

wherever they were not strongly opposed but did not establish them in the interior where they

would be vulnerable to PRK/SOC (Rowley, 2004, p. 209) The KR now controlled much of the

southwest and Cardamom mountains, some areas in the north and centre and south of the capital,

the KPNLF areas in the West and the ANS token areas on the border (Rogge, 1990, p. 24) In

January the insurgents began to carry out wide ranging attacks with a major raid that burned

areas of Battambang (Rowley, 2004, p. 209) as well as strikes on the major routes and KR

infiltration attacks in Phnom Penh (Kroef, 1991, p. 97). On the international stage there was a

movement towards compromise and peace settlement driven by external factors. The failing

USSR, Vietnam and especially China now all wished to end the source of friction as the

communist project in Europe was collapsing with uncertain consequences (Frederick Z. Brown,

1992, p. 88).



In the 1990 wet season the scope and scale of the attacks grew, with insurgents moving

around country in larger groups and attacking provincial capitals. The KR continued infiltration

attacks in the capital but in renewed attacks on Battambang used captured tanks as well as

Chinese supplied artillery (Kroef, 1991, p. 97). Sharp cutbacks in Soviet aid began to impact on

the KPRAF (Kroef, 1991, p. 99) which continued to be constrained by avoidance of conscription,

ill-disciplined and inclined to extortion to compensate for minimal pay (Bekaert, 1998, p. 213).

Nevertheless, with Vietnamese backup from over the border on call the PRK/SOC could keep the

insurgents from establishing themselves in the cities and along the major routes and the vital

central food producing areas including Tonle Sap (Bekaert, 1998, p. 6). In September in Jakarta

a Supreme National Council was formed, nominally uniting the insurgents and the PRK/SOC

under Sihanouk (Kamm, 1998, p. xxi)


The formation of the Council did not end the fighting although by the end of 1990 the

war was largely at a standstill as negotiations continued and the SOC claimed to be acting only

defensively. In 1991 the bulk of the fighting was artillery exchanges and in most areas fighting

was lighter than in the previous year (Bekaert, 1998, p. 290; Frederick Z. Brown, 1992, p. 93).

There was some jockeying for position, especially by the KR around the capital with small scale

attacks. In early 1991 the KPRAF mounted an offensive to clear KR from strategic are of Pailin

that controlled infiltration routes and gemstone mining (Bekaert, 1998, p. 6) and demonstrated a

growing capacity to employ tanks and armoured vehicles in combination with their rather more

reluctant infantry (Bekaert, 1998, p. 290). Klintworth (1993, p. 15) argues that these operations

were a serious setback for the KR that put them ‘on the ropes’.


In July 1991 in Beijing, Sihanouk was elected President of the Council (Bekaert, 1998,

p. 7) and in October 1991 all the protagonists and seventeen nations signed a settlement

agreement in Paris that provided for an end to the fighting, disarmament of factions and

establishing a neutral environment for elections. This was largely predicated on deployment of

combatants into cantonments (Kamm, 1998, p. xxii).


In March 1992 a UN transitional authority (UNTAC) and 16,000 troops deployed but by

May it was evident that the KR would not comply with the disarmament conditions of the

agreement. With most of the militias already disarmed the ex-communist ‘ruling’ Cambodian

People’s Party (CPP) of Hun Sen party was outraged, stopped cooperating and started attacking

Kampuchea Page 123

other parties, especially the royalists. UNTAC concentrated on conducting the elections (Kamm,

1998, p. xxii).


By June 1992 the KR also began to step up attacks and expanding its territory by force

again (Robinson, 2000, p. 25). Many of the troops in the cantonments departed on ‘agricultural

leave’.


The elections in May 1993 were boycotted by the KR and a coalition of the KPNLF and

the Sihanoukist party secured a majority (though not the 2/3 required to rule outright) despite

intimidation by the CPP. Hun Sen refused to accept the result and staged secession (Cambodia,

2011). To avoid renewed civil war Sihanouk compromised and made Prince Ranriddh and Hun

Sen Joint prime ministers of a coalition: this marked the end of the insurgency. However the

coalition later collapsed leading both sides to seek support of KR elements which now also

fractured and joined the fighting. In 1997 Hun Sen staged a successful coup against all his

opponents and resumed control of Cambodia. In retrospect it can be seen that the PRK and its

later guise as the CPP did have significant political support or they could not have imposed a

stalemate in the conflict nor, even allowing for their many advantages, secured nearly 40% of the

UN supervised vote (Fredrick Z. Brown, 1998, p. 95).



outcome favouring the insurgents. This reflects the SOC’s loss of control over significant areas

of the country but also the failure of the major insurgent group, the KR, to achieve its aims.

VTFS application of its presumed coding rules to rank loss of territorial control as a government

reverse is surely valid. Further confirming the original VTFS coding, repression clearly

continued to increase whilst support for insurgents and their force size both grew. A reputation

for repression and corruption denied the SOC both popular support needed to fight the insurgents

and eventual success at the polls. However this conflict (and the following one) illustrates the

consequences of the methodological imperative to temporally bound analysis: measured in 1993

the PRK appears almost a loser, but history shows this changed.


4.3 REFLECTIVE SUMMARY OF CONFLICT

This chapter has described in detail the progression of the conflict. A conventional

PAVN invasion of Kampuchea ousted the KR and established a PRK government in what

Klintworth argued was an act of self-defence that meets most criteria for a humanitarian

intervention (1989a, pp. 76, 109). The diplomatically isolated Vietnamese then struggled to

rebuild a devastated country and traumatised society whilst the remnants of the KR were saved

and rearmed, and an unlikely international anti-Vietnamese coalition then supported a prolonged

fight by a motley alliance of insurgents. In 1984/85, major offensives by the PAVN disrupted the

insurgents and subsequent border barrier construction reduced their freedom of action, but the

moral cost of their construction undermined PRK legitimacy leading to a stalemate. Eventually,

a Vietnamese withdrawal left a militarily weak PRK initially ceding more territory to the

insurgents but a second stalemate arose as the state stood its ground and fought more effectively

for its survival and secured the populous and economically important areas until the international

community engineered a peace settlement.

Strategically the conflict has, on the one hand, been interpreted as Vietnamese failure to

defeat the KR, a diplomatic disaster and a successful Chinese frustration of their predation

(Donnell, 1980, p. 31; Leifer, 1990, p. 17). On the other hand, Vietnam secured its southern

border by the installation of a viable non-threatening regime, neutralised the KR threat and

demonstrated substantial defensive capacity against the Chinese army, greatly reducing China’s

capacity to intimidate (Klintworth, 1989b, pp. 1-5): ultimately Vietnamese objectives were

realised and the leaders of its ‘puppet’ PRK now rule Cambodia.

5Chapter 5: Analysis of the Insurgency in Kampuchea, 1978-1992

Introduction

This chapter describes the analysis of the Kampuchean insurgency. It is organised into

sections that correspond to the six areas of case analysis outlined in Chapter 3, as follows:

Checking the Validity of VTFS-based Case Selection

Comparison of State Robustness and Insurgent Support

Assessing the Strategic Impact of Constituency Support and its Shifts

Evaluation by Matrix-mapping Compliance Behaviour

Testing Candidate Factors for Influence on Support

Examining the Mechanisms of Reducing Insurgent Effectiveness

According to VTFS analysis, escalating repression was employed by the Vietnamese and

their proxies for every phase after the first, whilst in Phase III very robust COIN methods were

applied, including collective punishment. The RAND analysis also shows that it was only in the

first and third phases that the Vietnamese were able to reduce internal support for the insurgents.

These factors direct special attention to Phase III, where the robust measures are therefore

temporally associated with reduction in support for the insurgency. This offers a ‘before and

after’ analytic opportunity to look for explanatory changes in conditions as support drops and

then resumes.

5.1 CHECKING THE VALIDITY OF VTFS-BASED CASE SELECTION

Because defensible case selection is so important, before proceeding with the analysis

proper the first requirement was to answer the check-question:

Is the VTFS coding of the phase as effective robust action still valid?

VTFS cross-coding identifies Phase III as a likely example of ‘effective robust action’

since internal support is associated with repression and collective punishment. This seems valid

at a broad level: there appears little doubt that the K5 plan qualifies as ‘robust’ and most accounts

appear to agree that the annual increase in insurgent violence levelled off in 1985. The coding

for repression also seems valid, because although sources differ in their ranking of the severity

of’ Vietnamese repression, it did indeed increase after Phase I and remain at a higher level every


phase after that. Similarly, the measures used to conscript and manage labour for K5 sometimes

amounted to collective punishment as coded.

VTFS codes a reduction in internal support for insurgents in the first and third phases.

In the first phase this accurately describes the reduction of support to the KR as they withdrew

with only their hardcore and coerced civilians. In the third phase, the loss of support is much less

clear. After the PAVN offensives the insurgent forces size were not quickly reconstituted in the

face of several thousand casualties as they had been previously, which might suggest reduced

support in the border camps, however the disruption and loss of loss of facilities and sustainment

resources appears to have influenced this as much as actor preference. Border camp behaviour is

not strictly internal support anyway, but after K5 started there were increased numbers of new

refugees asking to join the insurgents which suggest increased support. In any event, somewhat

increased insurgent forces were fielded by the end of Phase III.

Establishing a loss of internal support to the insurgents within the country is thus less

clear-cut, although logistic support across the border was clearly disrupted. Certainly active

popular support was constrained because of the dislocation and decimation of the rural

workforce: K5 construction certainly reduced resources available within communities and thus

to insurgents. However, the clear insurgent shift towards sustained operations from bases deeper

in the country later in the phase is not consistent with any dramatic loss of internal support. The

VTFS assessment that active support was reduced for a period approximating to the phase seems

correct, not because ‘preferences’ for support ever changed, but because the capacity for support

was affected. This means that the VTFS assessment is technically correct, but actually probably

overstates the ‘value’ of repression, as is explored more fully in later analysis. There are no

contradictions to prevent proceeding to the core of the analysis.

5.2 COMPARISON OF STATE ROBUSTNESS AND INSURGENT SUPPORT

The heart of this study is the relationship between robust state action and shifts of

insurgent constituency support, so as explained earlier, the examination focuses on times where

the VTFS study has already identified such shifts and which provide a ‘before and after’ analytic

opportunity. We are therefore especially looking for evidence of, and explanations for,

reductions and then recovery in important internal support to the insurgents at the two shifts

between three time periods:

Into Phase III: January 1983 to March 1984

Mid Phase III: March 1984 to December 1985

Out of Phase III: pre- December 1985 to May 1986

Kampuchea: Analysis Page 127

(Note - The VTFS phases are bounded by years for practical reasons, but because of the

seasonal pattern of PAVN offensives, the early part of 1984 is treated as part of the previous

Phase II.)

At these shift points we are particularly looking for shifts of state robustness. However

in order to properly assess the impact of this on insurgent support we will also examine (in order

to control for) other Blue policy that may have impacted on popular support.

5.2.1 Trends and Shifts in Blue Paramilitary Robustness

We will examine changes and tendencies in Blue paramilitary robust action under

headings of first repression and then conscription.

PAVN, Vietnamese and PRK Repression

VTFS codes an increase in repression at Phase II that continues for the rest of the

conflict. This is broadly valid, but it is useful to dissect further. The actions of the PAVN, other

Vietnamese and PRK officials and troops are conflated in many accounts. The Vietnamese

clearly understood the risks of alienating the Kampuchean population. This was evident in the

orders given to the invading PAVN forces about how they were to behave, with policy probably

erring on the side of caution. This included direction to avoid and prevent reprisals against

captured KR (Gottesman, 2002, p. 38; Kiernan, 1979, p. 24) and not to interfere with normal

Cambodian life (Kamm, 1998, p. 183). Many problems would arise because there was neither

normal life nor an authority structure and Vietnamese administrators or inexperienced ex-KR

Khmers appointed by them had to fill the void.

It seems clear that the well-disciplined PAVN initially acted in the spirit of a ‘hearts and

minds’ policy, carrying out actions such as handing out (previously banned) family cooking

implements. Whilst there were reports of unofficial repression including rape and theft, there

were also accounts of PAVN soldiers being executed for such actions (Kiernan, 1979, p. 21).

Vickery (1984, p. 225) examined allegations of Vietnamese misbehaviour at length using his

own interviews with refugees and that of other more critical observers. He compares refugee

account content to show the KPRAF readier to use force to intercept refugees than the PAVN,

worse predation by Thai soldiers and bandits and generally benign treatment of the population

including frequent provision of lifts. From this he argues, from a pre-1985 perspective, that

ultimately the PRK and its Vietnamese backers have been ‘humane, pragmatic and

unoppressive’. In the context of a defence of the PRK against those proposing the restoration of

KR rule this is probably fair comment. Objectively, the early PAVN approach compares

favourably to the preceding DK or contemporary counterinsurgents. Nevertheless they were

supporting a PRK establishment that would jail its own officials for 8 months for a ‘wrong

political attitude’ (Bekaert, 1998, p. 122) and, although Vickery (1984, p. 205) could not find


evidence at the time, was also using torture and extrajudicial killings (Deth, 2009, pp. 30, 33,

80, 81).

Klintworth says the Vietnamese were ‘on the whole strictly disciplined and well behaved

with few reposts of assault or stealing’ (1989b, p. 8). However, the PAVN was an omnipresent

occupier and traditional enemy; inevitably increasingly disliked (Kamm, 1998, p. 183). Aware

of this, by 1980 as the Vietnamese attempted to re-establish a relatively benign administration the

hands of the Kampucheans (E. A. Meng-Try, 1981, p. 219), the PAVN were increasingly

withdrawn from rural villages into garrisons (Vickery, 1984, p. 225), inadvertently thus easing

KR rural infiltration. As hostility and popular support for the insurgency became evident in

1981, Vietnamese ideological commitment to ‘fraternal’ behaviour seems to have been less of a

restraint on military action and their forces began to escalate repressive measures. An indicative

example was an atrocity where a PAVN element called civilians out of a bunker then forced

them back in and threw two hand grenades in wounding eight (Carney, 1990, p. 205), but early in

Phase II such accounts were infrequent and their pattern was not indicative of a policy shift.

The first clear major shift in attitude came in 1983. This year saw more vigorous and

widespread enforcement of conscription for the army and construction tasks whilst the very old

and young were forced to labour in the fields: evaders were jailed and if they escaped their

families were punished. This repression coincided with factional struggles amongst the PRK and

there was increasing frustration and open dissatisfaction amongst PRK officials. Fearful of

disloyalty the Vietnamese arrested and jailed 300 Khmer officials and anyone showing

‘sympathy with the insurgents or irritation at the Vietnamese’. By the end of Phase II, Bekaert

was able to observe that the latter were ‘no longer concerned to project a good image: repression

was fashionable’ (Becker, 1984, p. 44; 1997, pp. 39, 42, 55).

All this was being claimed by insurgent spokesmen, but accounts remained

contradictory: Eiland (1985, p. 112) in 1984 (in early Phase III) was still able to report that only a

few refugees reported54 being motivated by Vietnamese heavy handedness. Deth’s (2009, p. 29)

review of the literature cautions that any claims of widespread “Vietnamese oppression” of the

Cambodian population should be qualified and perceived with more care, noting greater abuse by

other actors including insurgents. There may have been a lag effect, because during Phase III

accounts from other sources of PAVN rape, extortion and killing for food increased. By

February 1985 there was more concrete indication that perceptions of the occupiers had changed

dramatically as refugees began arriving at the border camps asking to fight the ‘strangling’

Vietnamese (Bekaert, 1998, pp. 147-148; M. A. Martin, 1994, p. 227). This provides solid

evidence of a shift in attitude that had been occurring since Phase II, but importantly is also

54 We do not know the actual question asked: the point may be that the refugees were focussed on the relative oppressiveness of PRK policies rather than PAVN discipline.


evidence that the most unambiguous form of internal support to the insurgency (volunteering to

join it) was not being reduced by repressive measures.

As became apparent, the stated motive for this increased support was less vengeance for

abstract oppression than objection to enforcement of conscription. It is important to analyse

refugee statements of motives for opposition to the Vietnamese carefully: generic blame of them

for the invasion and all its consequences including the PRK regime must be separated from

specific allegations about the only purely Vietnamese organisation (the PAVN). The refugees

were predisposed to blame the Vietnamese, yet did not provide extensive and detailed accounts

of PAVN misbehaviour. This is consistent with slowly escalating tensions between the PAVN

and Khmer with enabling localised brutality rather than a PAVN policy shift to more repressive

actions. The techniques or ‘intensity’ of repression probably did not change significantly, rather

their total frequency increased with the need for ‘coercive impellance’ across the entire

population.

From Phase I, systems for controlling the entire population were established: in the

countryside the krom samaki collective production hierarchy of families, sections and districts

provided for collective or leader punishment for member transgression. Supplementing this in

the towns, was an obligation on civil servant and cadre families to prove their loyalty by paying

heavy taxes and providing members for conscription (Luciolli, 1988a, pp. 7, 8, 9). Behind this

was a ‘legal’ system without a judiciary where ‘arbitrary arrests and detention were the rule’,

with prisons in which tens of thousands of political prisoners were held in appalling conditions

and tortured. Reports of PRK bureaucrats themselves provide confirmation of this (Deth, 2009,

pp. 30, 33, 80, 81; Luciolli, 1988a, p. 9) but this system was well established by Phase II and

continued until at least 1987 (Chanda, 1988, p. 110): it was a change in scale of its application

that occurred in Phase III, and that application was because of conscription.

Conscription

In 1980 the devastated infrastructure needed repair, but the Vietnamese were initially

reluctant to conscript labour because of the associations with DK methods (Vickery, 1984, p.

240). Similarly, whilst post-invasion anti-KR sentiment and a desire for a rice ration motivated

some initial volunteers for the KPRAF, few further recruits were forthcoming. As the insurgency

grew, in 1981 the PRK introduced military conscription and also began levying peasants for two

week socialist labour projects near their villages (Deth, 2009, pp. 107-108; M. A. Martin, 1994,

p. 222). To reduce the unpopularity of the labour levy in early years it was conducted as

competitions with prizes and rewards including cash payments (Slocomb, 2001, p. 199). Whilst

a universal obligation to serve in the militia was not seen as particularly onerous, military

conscription for young males was so unpopular that ‘press gang’ methods were required from the

start and desertion was a constant problem (Deth, 2009, pp. 107-109). The authorities even


resorted to subterfuge, recruiting men as police and then sending them to the border (M. A.

Martin, 1994, p. 257). Although the conscription effort was continuous until well into Phase IV

there was increased effort in 1985 associated with manning the K5, and 1986 conscription was

extended from 3 to 5 years. Despite such measures reluctance to serve and desertions meant a

constantly evaporating force: whilst the Vietnamese thought that they had about 80,000 enlisted

in 1985, two years later it was considered to be about 30,000 (Chanda, 1987, pp. 107, 118; Deth,

2009, pp. 107-109; Luciolli, 1988a, p. 14). The consequence was not only widespread

resentment, but an unreliable and unpopular force that would extort from the public and

increasingly aid the insurgents, defect or be involved in clashes with the PAVN (Bekaert, 1997,

p. 87, 1998, pp. 147-148).

The K5 plan was a rational COIN strategy decision by Hanoi. Its execution was

disastrous, and Luciolli (1988a, p. 9) suggests that was probably due to delegation to former KR

serving the PRK. Press-ganging at short notice may have been pragmatic, but the lack of

transport, food, shelter and medical support (possibly due to ideological fervour and over-

recruitment) was utterly counterproductive. Brutal discipline at the border, an 80% malaria

infection rate, deaths and injuries and the consequent loss of effective agricultural manpower

(Deth, 2009, p. 115) would have been sufficient for massive resentment, but additionally most

‘Khmers perceived the K5 plan as being directed to prevent flight to Thailand and keeping the

population mobilised’ (Luciolli, 1988a, pp. 12-13).

Although policy unpopularity was to a degree anticipated by the PRK with ‘increasing

liberalization of state control of the economy and property ownership’ intended to offset this

(Slocomb, 2002, p. 787) this was utterly inadequate. The combined effect of increased military

and K5 conscription was seminal: a significant proportion of the population in rural areas turned

irrevocably against the PRK, certainly of sufficient size to prevent the SOC securing the whole

country. When they could, the young people and their families fled, as was manifest in the

increased numbers and attitude of refugees at the border, notwithstanding the difficulty of getting

there (Bekaert, 1998, pp. 147-148; Deth, 2009, p. 115; M. A. Martin, 1994, pp. 224-225;

Slocomb, 2001, p. 204).

5.2.2 Trends and Shifts in other Blue Policy (Controls)

In order to control for other factors apart from robust paramilitary action, we will

examine other issues that clearly had an impact: food administration and collectivisation as well

as Vietnamese domination.

PRK Food Administration and Collectivisation

Paul et al. identify that resentment driven by food shortages and growing knowledge of

starvations became hostility towards Vietnamese for mismanagement (2010a, pp. 27, 28). The


latter had anticipated food needs, planning the invasion when rice harvest would be available.

Stocks were calculated adequately, ‘it was the wasted, destroyed and removed stocks and loss of

seed rice and desertion of the communes that would cause a problem’ (S. R. Heder, 1980, pp. 27-

30). This deficit would sit astride a Kampuchean ‘administrative and infrastructure vacuum’

(Leifer, 1980, p. 38) combined with a limited PAVN logistic capability already committed to

fighting, to lead to a first famine in 1979. Misunderstanding about quite rational Vietnamese

redistribution of limited stock and retention of seed rice seems to have combined with sheer

desperation to cause resentment of the invader.

From a near zero base, the PRK made remarkable progress in reviving agriculture and

fishing and built a medical and substantial education system (Ablin & Hood, 1990, pp. li, lii),

improving general living conditions during 1980-1982 (Leifer, 1980, p. 97) 1980-82 (Boua,

1983, p. 259; Rogge, 1990, p. 16). In 1983 PRK internal conflicts disrupted progress and this

combined with a bad harvest to produce shortages again (Becker, 1984, p. 38).

Vickery argued (1984, pp. 205, 211-219) that claims of net rice theft by Vietnam could

not be substantiated and they seem implausible given that the invaders clearly understood that

‘goods and food were the main thing that they had to offer’ to achieve their political objectives.

In 1979 this was reflected by PAVN ‘soldiers being positioned to distribute food aid and control

the politics of ...’ (this task), furthermore at that initial stage systematic ‘confiscation of rice taxes

was administratively and politically impossible’ (Gottesman, 2002, pp. 31, 87) given that the

exiled KNUFNS had promised to reverse the excesses of the KR regime (Kroef, 1979, pp. 736-

739). De-collectivisation and relaxation of movement control was necessary to gain legitimacy,

but the ensuing chaos and famine forced re-collectivisation (S. R. Heder, 1980, pp. 36-37, 41). In

any event, taxing the rice crop offered the regime its main source of pay and influence, (S. R.

Heder, 1980, pp. 44-52) which equally had to be denied to the resistance. There were also large

numbers of orphans, widows and elderly to be fed as well as the occupying PAVN, with even

small villages required to cultivate at least 30 hectares for the latter (E. A. Meng-Try, 1981, p.

222).

To achieve control the PRK confiscated harvesting equipment, limited planting in

remote areas (E. A. Meng-Try, 1981, p. 219) and directed ‘collective’ harvesting under the krom

samaki system pooling of 10-15 families’ tools, animal and adult males, an approach ‘akin to

traditional Khmer tenure’ (Rogge, 1990, p. 21). This re-collectivisation caused great resentment

amongst rural communities (M. A. Martin, 1994, p. 220) aggravated as rules were modified to try

to give incentive to work but care for all (Gottesman, 2002, p. 93). Though much cited in

complaints by refugees, the re-collectivisation occurred during the first (1979) famine and the

second famine which were both before the shift of interest: Phase II. The significance of re-

collectivisation and food shortages is less because of resentment it generated than as a

mechanism that reinforced the control of the state by enabling collective punishment and reward.


Vietnamese Domination

Heng Samrin and Hun Sen headed a PRK government compromised on two levels.

Most of the leaders were former KR and continued their ways (Luciolli, 1988a, p. 6) and at first

they were also the figureheads of a puppet administration run by Vietnamese advisors working to

plans relayed directly from Hanoi. Many of the key bureaucrats were Vietnamese, but those who

were not were often married to one and all were required to speak that language and attend

political education in that country (Chandler, 2008, p. 230; Deth, 2009, p. 36; M. A. Martin,

1994, pp. 216-218; S. J. Morris, 1999, pp. 224, 225). The PAVN were ubiquitous with advisory

teams inserted for control at every level of administration and government (Carney, 1982, p. 83).

Such Vietnamese domination was cause for resentment, especially in urban areas where it was

most pronounced (Deth, 2009, p. 79). However, the approach was largely unavoidable with most

of the country’s elite dead or in exile, and tens of thousands of administrative positions and no

obvious candidates (Gottesman, 2002, p. 55). Within the bounds of retaining political

supervision and ensuring a minimum level of function, the Vietnamese attempted to appoint and

use Khmer administrators as much as possible. Crucially, 1/3 of these staff were usually ill-

educated and unrepentant former KR rather than middle class survivors (Chapman, 2010, p. 15).

Consequently, they did not have the necessary expertise ‘....I became convinced that the

Vietnamese were definitely making the decisions but relying on Khmer administration to

implement’ (Luciolli, 1988a, p. 9). Martin and others highlight the particularly lenient treatment

of ex-KR, suggesting that the Vietnamese thought that they as fellow communists would be less

of a threat than the anti-communist nationalists (who were harshly treated) (Chandler, 2008, p.

230; Deth, 2009, p. 36; M. A. Martin, 1994, pp. 216-218; S. J. Morris, 1999, pp. 224, 225). As

Chapman puts it “KR can be amnestied and receive clemency whilst KPLNF fill the jails” (2010,

p. 15).

The Vietnamese officials, often conscientious bureaucrats from (politically reliable)

North Vietnam (Luciolli, 1988a, p. 9) whose conditions of service were actually sometimes

worse (Vickery, 1984, p. 230) than the Khmers they advised, were increasingly critical of PRK

administrators. However, they were aware that taking a yet greater role might be more efficient

but would lead to international criticism (Kamm, 1998, p. 189) and Kampuchean dependency.

The administrators were on short term commitments of service, but many other

Vietnamese came to stay, causing much conflict. Vietnam already had domestic policies of

tolerating refugees’ flight and redistributing many millions of people to relieve overpopulation,

reorientate ideologically suspect communities in the south and work deserted arable land (Pike,

1978, p. 71; Tucker, 1999, p. 191). This pragmatic orientation combined with a Kampuchean

practical need for artisan and other workers and a desire of many ethnic Vietnamese

Kampucheans to return home: it drove migration into Kampuchea. As a further complication,


many of the initial spontaneous influx of 250,000 Viet-Khmer in 1979 (Chang, 1983, p. 389)

were motivated by a desire to continue onwards as refugees into Thailand (E. A. Meng-Try,

1981, p. 222), which did not aid integration. The PRK showed signs of asserting control over

this issue in 1981 as Vietnamese peasants attempting to farm Kampuchean land were still being

turned back (Carney, 1982, p. 83), however the population shifts soon became official with the

apparent eventual settlement of up to perhaps 500,000 55Vietnamese nationals, many of whom

were not the returning refugees the government claimed (Becker, 1984, p. 42; S. J. Morris, 1999,

p. 225). Interestingly, Deth’s interviews on the ground suggest that the end result was still fewer

ethnic Vietnamese than had been there before the DK era (2009, p. 24), and this was certainly

true after the PAVN withdrawal. The Vietnamese were reluctant to settle in the unsafe rural

areas and crowded into urban zones, causing increasing conflict with Khmers (M. A. Martin,

1994, p. 228) and traditional anti-Vietnamese feeling grew (C. Paul et al., 2010a, pp. 27, 28).

Whilst civilian ‘anti-Vietnamese feeling was aimed mainly at civilians rather than soldiers, who

had a hard life’ (Luciolli, 1988a, p. 10) violent clashes between the KPRAF and the PAVN were

also increasingly reported (Leifer, 1980, p. 40).

Once ancient suspicions were revived, distrust flourished. The Vietnamese were

perceived as suppressing Khmer culture as part of their Indochinese integration scheme (M. A.

Martin, 1994, p. 238). In fact there seems little doubt that the PRK leadership was genuinely

committed to its massive effort to restore Khmer culture, including religion, as this provided a

claim to legitimacy versus the KR (Kroef, 1979, p. 737). However Vietnamese socialist ideology

focussed on being a good revolutionary, with constrained dress and puritanical morality. Their

insistence that dance be limited to propaganda themes or that only old men could be monks and

had to work (Luciolli, 1988a, p. 11) may actually have been politically idealist, but was

interpreted as suppression of Kampuchean culture. There were similar reactions even by

academics such as Meng Try (1981, p. 223) to what may have been quite pragmatic policies

encouraging marriages between Vietnamese men and the surplus of Kampuchean women.

Vietnamese domination and ideological compromise of the PRK were undoubtedly the

two major factors that denied the regime the legitimacy it needed to prevail, as its increasing

political strength despite military reverses after the PAVN withdrawal indicate. These did not

change very much during Phase III. The possibly significant shift factor was continuing

migration, but only as an accumulating grievance, as it had been underway since 1979.

5.2.3 Trends and Shifts in Insurgent Support

It is challenging to measure support for insurgents at the best of times and in the

Kampuchean case a captive recruitment base and external logistics support makes insurgent

55 Martin suggests twice this figure (M. A. Martin, 1994, p. 229)


recruitment levels an unreliable proxy, whilst the figures themselves vary significantly with

source. Nevertheless we can look at insurgent number trends and draw some inferences.

In 1980 the KR had a strength of 30-35,000 troops (Leifer, 1980, p. 94; Rowley, 2004, p.

202) which had probably reached 40,000 the next year (Carney, 1982, p. 79) and was possibly

anything up to 10,000 higher if KR militia were counted (Robinson, 2000, p. 29) by the middle

of 1984 and before the PAVN offensive, although Bekaert (1997, p. 69) cites a lower figure of

25,000. In April 1985 after the offensive Deth (2009, p. 107) cites normally conservative PAVN

sources putting the KR numbers at 40,000. This is consistent with recovery after having suffered

several thousand casualties and desertions. Later estimates vary from 28,000 in 1987 (Chanda,

1988, p. 106) to PAVN estimates of 40,000 (but only 17,000 fighters) in 1989 (Bekaert, 1998, p.

190). It seems reasonable to accept Slocomb’s (2001, p. 195) view that the KR remained at a

fairly steady level of 30,000 to 35,000 troops throughout the PRK era (notwithstanding

casualties).

These numbers describe an organisation replenishing itself from the captive pool, and

maintaining agents in Kampuchea but not gaining many further recruits there. Heder (1980, p.

58) says few joined the KR voluntarily after the invasion, and then only for a fighters rice ration.

On the other hand human rights groups’ document forced recruitment by KR in the camps from

1980 till 1988 (Rungswasdisab, 2004, p. 98). Carney (1982, pp. 81, 83) could assert that in 1981

‘there is a well of hatred and fear of the KR black shirts and anything that might bring them

back’. In many areas they had never departed remaining hiding in the forests and employing

terror to ensure popular compliance (Leifer, 1980, p. 35). Boua (1983, p. 265) recounts a 1980

conversation with a woman in Kampuchea who described how the ‘enemies’ ‘sometimes

exchange latex and twine for food, are sometimes fed by relatives and sometimes billet their

cadre on families ... the (PRK) militia cannot guarantee security and it is only safe when the

Vietnamese are here’. In contrast Chapman (2010, p. 15) interviewed an ex KR fighter who’s

parents had been killed by the KR but yet was proud of her role in ejecting the Vietnamese. KR

general unpopularity is indirectly confirmed by a former KR commanders comments: ‘In 1980

villagers were very hostile to us – this hostility is not so strong today [in 88] because Vietnam

has become the enemy no 1 – this make it easier for the troops to stay in the country for long

periods’ (Bekaert, 1998). Whatever the mix of coercion and personal relationships, by 1983 the

KR was able to reactivate stay behind units and establish bases deep within Kampuchea (Becker,

1984, p. 43). PRK propaganda may have assisted in maintaining hostility against the KR, but it

was probably unnecessary. Most of the population probably to a greater or lesser degree feared

the KR and the prospect of their return. Whilst there were doubtless a few Kampucheans who

were recruited to the KR as a response to PAVN or PRK behaviour, the pattern of support clearly

reflects the degree of KR infiltration that was present: it depended on coercion and anticipation of

their eventual return.


The KPNLF in 1981 had perhaps 9,000 troops but few weapons (Carney, 1982, p. 79)

and by 1984, rearmed by the Chinese, this may have risen as high as 12,000 (Robinson, 2000, p.

29). Crucially, in April 1985 immediately after the PAVN offensive, their earlier higher claims

of 20,000 were estimated down to 16,000 by Bekaert (1997, p. 152) which aligns with PAVN

estimates of 14,000 (Deth, 2009, p. 107). By 1987 the KPNLF only claimed 8,000 (Chanda,

1988, p. 106) and in 1989 PAVN sources suggested 13,000 (Bekaert, 1998, p. 190). We know

that in 1985 the KPNLF was riven by factional conflicts and kept most of its troops out of the

country, thus losing ‘presence’ and contact but we also know that refugees were volunteering to

fight with them: their popularity was unharmed. It seems likely that whilst the KPNLF may have

taken significant losses in the PAVN offensive the real damage was from disruption or

decapitation which led to a levelling off or gradual decline in manpower in the next couple of

years, despite a captive pool, before later recovery. Flawed leadership is also consistent with

report of ill disciplined and abusive behaviour by KPNLF in later periods (Song, 1991).

In contrast, the ANS in 1981 had only 3,000-5,000 troops (Robinson, 2000, p. 29) but

this increased steadily so that even in 1985 after the PAVN offensive there were 10,000 (Deth,

2009, p. 107). It adapted well and was able to deploy over half of these into Kampuchea (Eiland,

1986, p. 120). It continued to grow to 12-15,000 in 1987 (Chanda, 1988, p. 106) to 17,000 in

1989 (Bekaert, 1998, p. 190).

What can we conclude from these broad trends? The estimated insurgent numbers can

be plotted over time for the years where data is available (Figure 23).

Figure 23: Estimated Insurgent Numbers in Thousands

We are particularly interested in possible shifts associated with Phase III and the lower

totals immediately after this phase certainly could be explained by a reduction in support.

0

10

20

30

40

50

60

1979 1980 1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1990 1991 1992

KR

KPNLF

ANS

Ph I Ph II Ph III Ph IV Ph V


However, we know that all insurgent groups both suffered casualties in the PAVN 1984/1985

offensives and had their recruiting and training badly disrupted. This would equally account for

the numbers shifts.

Whilst the figures (particularly for the KR) are not very reliable, the differences in

numbers between groups favour the ‘military impact’ explanation. If support had dropped we

would expect that the KR, with its capacity to coerce numbers, would suffer least reduction

whilst the anti-communist groups would have dropped off more. The significant downward

trend in KR numbers compared to the relatively stable numbers suggests that the cause of

number reductions was the military one acknowledged by all parties.

There is other stronger evidence of increasing support from 1985 onwards. Not only did

more refugees volunteer to fight after Phase III, but PRK sources gave an increase from 15,300

insurgents within Kampuchea in 1984 to 21,000 in 1987 (Deth, 2009, p. 103). Given that we

know that the infiltration and exfiltration was difficult and that the insurgents had contact with

the population, with the attendant risk of compromise, either the insurgents were not being

betrayed or there must have been a steady flow of recruits to replace losses. Therefore increased

individual and collective coercion by the PRK are not associated with a reduction in support and

the evidence of refugee statements is that repression can increase support.

The argument is strengthened by the observation that the coercive element of the PRK

counterintelligence effort was squarely aimed at the non-communist insurgents: if captured they

ended up in jail, tortured or dead whereas KR were more likely to benefit from amnesty

programmes. Coercion was directed more at those suspected of supporting the KPNLF or ANS

than the KR, yet support was greater for the former two. This observation must be qualified by

noting that the KR survival indicates that given sufficient external support and a pool of recruits,

an insurgency can survive with little popular support, provided it can intimidate the population

into passivity.

The essential support that the insurgents needed was the classic standard of ‘non-

betrayal’. The record does not establish the level of intelligence supplied to KPRAF or PAVN

by the population, but we can reasonably infer that it was far short of what was needed for

success. Propaganda accounts of ‘defections’ of insurgents to the PRK as part of the amnesty

programme typically laud the fact that the defector brought a rifle with him, not that vital

information leading to successful operations was supplied. Similarly the record seems to suggest

that PAVN inflicted more combat casualties during sweep operations than in ambushes. They

had a prior reputation as masters of the tactic, regularly ambushed tracks and it was probably

even a favoured method to reduce casualties to the constant use of mine warfare by the

insurgents. However ambushing requires information of routes being used: simply ambushing


‘likely spots’ when myriad routes are possible has very low56 probability of success. A forested

country like Kampuchea allows smaller groups avoiding towns and key routes to infiltrate,

remain hidden and then exfiltrate with minimal risk of detection (indeed changing this was the

rationale of the K-5). However once moving close to target areas, the number of approach routes

reduces and population presence increases. Even if insurgents avoid contact, local peasants

inevitably become aware of their activity, from animal behaviour and signs. This is particularly

true for operations deep in the country where insurgents require food supplies. We know that

insurgents did have frequent contact, with Western-backed groups consistently reporting buying

food and both sides record that the KR stole from villages at night. Similarly insurgents

frequently conducted propaganda activities within country.

If this information had been regularly provided to PRK/PAVN forces (even if only after

the event) they would have determined patterns and mounted effective response operations. A

steady rate of insurgent casualties due to ambushes (in any area away from Vietnamese manned

barriers) would indicate such an intelligence stream. However insurgent accounts describe

themselves as initiating most contacts and emphasise the danger from aggressive PAVN sweeps

and reconnaissance patrols rather than ambushes. We can infer a low rate of ‘betrayal’: support

was largely withheld from the PRK.

5.2.4 Conclusions of Robustness/Support Comparison

From the above examination of shift factors we can draw a number of key points:

Vietnamese domination and failure to maintain the ‘hearts and minds’ message of

‘rescue and socialist solidarity’ undermined support for the PRK

Individual and collective repression by the PRK generally was not associated with a

reduction in support to the insurgents.

The clearest measure of internal support for the insurgents, volunteers to join, was

increased by repressive measures

Repressive measures did not appear to increase actionable information flows to the PRK

The combined effects of the conscriptions turned the population against the PRK, rather

than more general repressive measures.

Coercive impellance succeeded (at a price) in enforcing conscription, whereas attempted

coercive deterrence and suppression of clandestine support did not.

Coercion relying on collective punishment (K5 conscription) was more effective than

relying on more personal sanctions (military conscription)

56 For example, over a range of British Army COIN campaigns relatively with good military and or police intelligence, units might conduct many hundreds of ambushes with one or two engagements, and consider this successful.


An insurgent group can survive with little popular support provided that it can intimidate

the population into passivity

Collective agricultural systems and food shortages provided an effective means of

collective punishment and control

5.3 ASSESSING THE STRATEGIC ROLE OF SUPPORT AND ITS SHIFT

This section asks two questions of the case

How did popular support influence the outcome and duration of the conflict?

How was ‘Red’ and ‘Blue’ support broadly shifted by Blue actions and polices?

Applying the analytic construct of ACV requires identification of strategic objectives,

targets and levers and relating these to one or more ‘support battlegrounds’ within which robust

action operated as an influence. The Khmer refugees in the camps and the wider population

proved to be quite distinct ‘constituency arenas’. In the former the insurgents were able to

sustain enough active support to recruit and enable protraction of the fight until the Vietnamese

withdrew. Amongst the wider population the insurgents were never able to escalate the conflict

to decisive levels: however the PRK also failed to raise or even maintain its own support

sufficiently to defeat the insurgents after the PAVN withdrawal, but was able to secure the

heartland.

The insurgency’s overarching and resistance-unifying strategic objective was the

withdrawal of the PAVN, an army that the insurgents could never hope to militarily overcome.

Thus ‘strategic influence target’ which had to be coerced was the Vietnamese politburo. Given

that success in Kampuchea was not an existential issue for the politburo and that the Vietnamese

economy was weak and struggling to rebuild and re-unify the country, securing change via cost-

coercion was plausible and ultimately proved effective. However the effective application of this

lever was deferred as long as the Soviets continued to subsidise the Vietnamese. The decisive

factor was arguably policy shifts as the USSR began to disintegrate, which had nothing to do

with Kampuchea. In contrast to cost-coercion, political-coercion of constituencies within

Vietnam offered little hope. The demobilisation of Vietnamese domestic popular support was

never a promising strategic lever against a war-hardened socialist state that was ruthlessly

asserting control over 20 million ex-south Vietnamese (S. J. Morris, 1999, p. 90) where dissent

led to a ‘re-education’ camp or summary execution (Desbarats, 1990, pp. 139-201).

The subsequent and parallel strategic objective of the insurgency was the removal of the

PRK government. Viewed as puppets by the insurgents, the government members would have

perceived the fight as existential and be unlikely to yield to coercive threat: PRK removal would

require ‘symmetric’ levels of force. The second coercive strategic objective was therefore to

escalate the insurgency to be able to challenge the government. It failed to fully achieve this but


did create a stalemate in which both the PRK, and the CGDK, unable to achieve control,

accepted an international peace process. The strategic impact of the ‘support contest’ rather, was

ultimately that support was widely denied to the PRK, such that they could not defeat the

insurgents.

As mentioned above, the strategic effect of support from the Khmer population generally

and its sub-set in the camps was different. In the latter, faction-dominated refugee camps and the

KR mountain heartlands, there was no significant support for the ‘Blue’ PRK, so the struggle for

the insurgents was to convert negative sentiment into active support, especially recruits, from a

relatively ‘captive’ population that ranged between ‘determined neutrality’ and passive support.

PRK and Vietnamese robust action certainly reinforced existing perceptions of PRK illegitimacy

and inflamed sentiment, particularly after K5 began, but on the other hand accentuated the

personal risks of returning to Kampuchea to fight relative to remaining in a refugee camp.

Many of the refugee camps, especially those on the Kampuchean side of the Thai border

were run by the insurgent groups who had great scope to coerce recruits. The opportunities for

coercion reduced somewhat when the Vietnamese destroyed the camps on ‘their’ side of the

border, but even in the camps run under international auspices the insurgents often wielded great

influence. For a young refugee, joining an insurgent group (especially a less active, non-KR one)

might not only deliver personal benefits such as food and a sense of agency, it might also offer

protection from attack or forcible recruitment by other factions. Furthermore, the Thai Army

showed itself quite ruthless in controlling the massive refugee populations on their borders, even

driving groups back to death in Kampuchea, so joining a group currently favoured by the Thais

also offered attractions. It is significant that even when supplemented by personal coercion or

incentives, the numbers wishing to return to fight the Vietnamese often proved disappointingly

low to the insurgents (Vickery, 1990, p. 316).

In the second ‘arena’, across Kampuchea, the robust actions of the Vietnamese and PRK,

particularly conscription, played an ultimately decisive role on popular support, not so much in

generating support for the insurgency as withdrawing it from the PRK. Following the invasion,

potential critics and opponents amongst the population had largely fled, leaving some prospect of

the PRK capitalising on relief at ‘liberation’ from the KR to offset resentment at foreign invasion.

This was certainly attempted, and Vietnamese efforts minimise contact with the Khmer

population and policies generally indicates that they well understood the risk of resentment

building. Indeed, initially they were probably as successful as they could have credibly been in

not inflaming popular response. It seems that it was the K5 plan and in particular the

conscription of forced labour and associated suffering that crystallised opposition to the DRK

regime. The flow of recruits from population to insurgency increased at this stage, motivated by

both resentment and desire to escape. Some joined groups in the interior who were often now

struggling to simply survive. Most went to the border despite the increasing difficulty and risk.


Whilst the barrier belt never stopped determined infiltration by smugglers or trained guerrillas,

crossing certainly was a challenge for those now motivated to join the insurgents in Thailand.

Increased refugee flows and higher proportions joining the insurgents associated with K5

is clear evidence of shifting support, however such external recruitment (although the captive

pool of recruits remained available) did not offset losses to the Vietnamese offensives: in

manpower support terms K5 was a setback to the insurgents. Furthermore, given the high levels

of international support to insurgents, a significant level of cost-coercion could probably have

been sustained by forces recruited from the many anti-PRK personnel available on the Thai

border without a need to ‘convert’ many new supporters beyond. What mattered was that the

flow of information essential to prosecute counter-insurgency slowed further and the already

meagre supply of willing recruits for PRK forces faded, thus greatly weakening the Vietnamese

project.

It is important to note that the insurgency and counterinsurgency within Kampuchea was

enabled and even driven by external support, with the USSR and Vietnam on the one side and the

unlikely bedfellows of China, the USA and Thailand on the other. The ‘domestic’ political

support struggles are a necessary part of an explanation of the extent and the outcomes of the

contest, but they are not a sufficient account. External logistic support and a recruiting base in

the refugee camps gave the insurgency some freedom from logistic dependence on the wider

population whilst key stages in the insurgency were directly shaped by external actors and events.

This includes the Chinese punitive invasion of Vietnam, massive Thai, US, and Chinese material

support including the opening of ‘another front’ by the establishment of supply lines through

Laos to the KR, the ‘defacto’ sanctuary for insurgents behind the Thai border and the eventual

loss of funding to Vietnam with the collapse of the USSR. Thus in this case we may be able to

draw firm conclusions about the effects of robust action on support generally, but must be wary

about extrapolating the strategic significance of that support.

So, to answer the two questions about the role and shifting of popular support posed

above. In the Kampuchean case, popular support for the insurgency was not essential to sustain

it, but the lack of popular support for the PRK in rural and especially border areas, prevented

their defeat of the insurgency (particularly when it might have been possible during 1984-1985).

Over the whole conflict, PRK policy simultaneously subdued and countermobilised Red support

amongst the domestic population. Active support seems to have been necessarily clandestine and

confined to a fairly small and rural proportion of the population. This is superficially a ‘success’,

if it were not the case that the same policy combinations also demobilised a clear majority of the

population from active support of the PRK. At Phase III, shifts in popular support are marked

and whilst the ‘countermobilising’ shift to active support of insurgents is directly observable, it is

the less obvious ‘demobilising’ withdrawal of support that meant that the PRK could not prevail.

This effect is more evident from matrix-mapping.


5.4 EVALUATION BY MATRIX-MAPPING COMPLIANCE BEHAVIOUR

Matrix-mapping of compliance behavior offers additional insights. For reference, Figure

24 first reiterates the compliance matrix explained in chapter 3: the reader will recall that a

position on the matrix indicates observable behavior in response to both Red and Blue coercion.

A series of matrices map the shifts of constituency behavior from phase to phase. The purple ball

represents the estimated mean position of the combined constituencies in the theatre of

operations, whilst the small black arrows indicate the shifts of significant sub-groupings. The

result is a useful graphic description of shifts rather than a complete representation of all groups

perspectives.

Resist

RED

Support

Resist

RED

Support

Resist

RED

Support

Resist

RED

Support

Resist

RED

Support

Support

BLUE

Resist

PH I PH II PH III PH IV PH V

Figure 24: Compliance Matrix and Mapping of Shifts during the Kampuchean Insurgency

There is consensus that in Phase I the Vietnamese ‘liberation’ was welcomed by all but a

few. However, without time, Weberian legitimacy or ‘loyalty’ could not have been widely

established across the population; the generally anti-KR constituents were therefore ‘on average’

Contra-red’ in that they would defer to Blue coercion but try to resist or evade that of Red. The

active and uncoerced KR was a small minority of the population and reduced through starvation,

whilst the non-communist insurgent numbers were negligible. However small parts of the

uncertain but contra-red population were alienated by the Vietnamese and shifted to pragmatism.


Blue Coercion

Defers to Blue

Coercion

Resists or evades

Blue Coercion

Resists or evades

Red Coercion

Defers to Red

Coercion

Supports Red absent

Red Coercion

Blue‐loyalist

Red‐loyalist

Red‐realist

Blue‐realist

Contra‐red


Pragmatist

Blue‐Diss‐

enter Red‐

Dissenter


In Phase II oppression led to more divergence of behaviors. Perceptions of Vietnamese

domination and PRK display of KR-like ideological compromise saw a further significant sub-

group of the Khmer population shift to become Pragmatists who deferred to either side, and

smaller groupings shifted to join the insurgents as Red-realists or became Neutralists who fled

either. Some of the fairly small community of Blue loyalists vehemently protested developments

showing they had become became dissenters.

It was the Phase III brutal enforcement of K5 that saw major shifts: the robust actions of

the PRK in conscripting the population played an ultimately decisive role on popular support.

This was not so much in that it counter-mobilised a further very visible group to become ‘red

loyalist’ insurgents, but that the mean of the population, a larger less visible majority, embedded

as Pragmatists. From this group, a sub-set crossed the border to join the insurgency whilst others

shifted to become Red-realists (in the rural areas), or Blue-realists (largely in the towns). These

shifts were evident from the lack of actionable intelligence flow about the insurgents and the

eventual degree of insurgent infiltration of Khmer communities, despite the development of

armed militias capable of securing them. The crucial impact of the shift of the mean from

Contra-red to Pragmatist was that the flow of actionable information essential to prosecute

counter-insurgency slowed further and the already meagre supply of willing recruits for DRK

forces faded, thus fatally undermining the PRK project.

After the stasis and stalemate of Phase IV, the eventual Phase V ‘stiffening’ of the PRK

as it consolidated in central areas of Kampuchea in the face of insurgent, especially KR, advances

indicates a substantial (but not majority) grouping returning to Contra-red rather than Blue

loyalty. This interpretation is supported by subsequent election results (Cambodia, 2011).

The value in this matrix representation is that firstly it highlights the impact of Blue

actions shifting the population mean from behaviour that is actually Contra-red regardless of ‘red

sympathies’. Secondly, it demonstrates the complexity of responses to robust actions, a

complexity that helps to explain the disagreement between previous analyses: shifts occur that

favour both robust and restrained arguments. We can now consider the operation of various

factors in generating these shifts.

5.5 TESTING CANDIDATE FACTORS FOR INFLUENCE ON SUPPORT

As explained earlier there are a range of factors or conditions proposed in the literature

as influencing demobilisation of Blue support, and subduing or counter-mobilising Red support.

Those that exhibited change during the conflict can be tested for relevance. We are especially

interested in factors that changed during Phase I or III, when support for insurgents is claimed to

have dropped. These factors are italicised in the text.


Factors for Demobilisation

The first test question is:

What proposed factors for Blue Constituency Demobilisation [if any] were present in the

conflict and did they shift at the phase change?

The latent support constituency for the PRK or ‘Blue’ is the uncommitted wider Khmer

population. Some proposed factors can be excluded (at the phase change). There had been

prolonged exposure to increasing insurgent attacks for four years, but there was a reduction of

violence in Phase III, meaning that this was unlikely to be a demobilisation factor. Similarly an

insurgency conducted by the much-feared KR was probably perceived as a very serious rather

than a mid-range threat by many who had suffered under their regime. This level of threat would

not seem to be likely to increase the popular inclination for compromise. This author’s proposed

construct of loss of co-opted patriotism was also not relevant, as the PRK was too tainted by

association with the Vietnamese for patriotism to have become a real (rather than rhetorical) lever

against other Khmer. It is also evident that there were few decision forming elites left to open up

normative differences with the state. Neither side’s use of violence was particularly outrageous

in the context. It is difficult to argue any failure of robust methods in this phase as the PAVN

offensive was clearly successful and it was not evident that the K5 had not stopped the insurgent

infiltration until after the phase, although this may just represent a lag effect. Existing dissent,

albeit clandestine and very constrained, was present within Blue constituency, throughout the

conflict, and certainly present well before the phase change. This factor may be conceptually

problematic as in this conflict it cannot be analytically separated from the loss of support itself.

Some of the factors associated with demobilisation of Blue support can however be

observed. There is a basis to observe loss of trust which undoubtedly occurred as Vietnamese

and PRK fraternal propaganda assurances of earlier days were proven false by the coercive

conscription of K5, whilst axiological constraint operated when a Vietnamese sponsored regime

was suddenly requiring Khmer to increasingly fight Khmer. Neither of these proposed factors

appears to be adequate to satisfactorily explain a dramatic demobilisation of Blue support. In

1984/5. We know that this relates to conscription, so it may be that new factors are required or

that some of the factors proposed in the literature for countermobilisation are also those leading

for to demobilisation.

Factors for Countermobilisation

The second test question is:

What proposed factors for Red Constituency counter-mobilisation [if any] were present

in the conflict and did they shift at the phase change?


One of the proposed factors associated with counter-mobilisation of the Red latent

support constituency can be identified as operating over the early conflict. Perceptions of

increased viability of the insurgency can be assumed from high levels of international support

(indeed this was a driver of K5), however in Phase III this factor was clearly not operating as the

insurgent bases were being smashed. The common motivating idea of resisting foreign invaders

was present from the invasion and not a change at this point. Whilst it may be speculated that

this factor applied more as K5 ‘showed the Vietnamese in their true nature’, the shift is not tied to

Phase III. These operations were not in breach of cultural norms nor outrageous in intent, nor

particularly humiliating in execution.

However, a broad perception of community threat certainly did arise across at least rural

Khmer populations which became immediately and personally threatening as they were widely

conscripted as construction labourers as part of a novel action. The scope for those associated

with the PRK regime to avoid the forced labour generated feelings of inequity.

Factors for Subduing

The third test question is:

What proposed factors for subduing the Red Constituency [if any] were present in the

conflict and did they shift at the phase change?

Being highly discriminate and having a strong material capacity relative to the

environment are both proposed as factors associated with subduing support. Whatever their

intentions, the Vietnamese did not have the information to be particularly discriminate in practice

and the PRK forces were less concerned and less capable of distinctions. Because most of the

fighting took place in rural areas, collateral damage resulting from lack of discrimination was less

of a factor than it might have been. Even 200,000 men is insufficient material capacity to

dominate a jungle country the size of Kampuchea, although the PAVN did reinforce and

concentrate forces to achieve locally strong material capacity for K5 and other offensive

operations. The PAVN of the period had a reputation as a capable force, demonstrated by the

damage inflicted on invading Chinese forces. Certainly if so directed they had the discipline to

discriminate whilst the combination of historical enmity with the Khmers and the excesses of the

KR would underpin the motivation to repress. Another factor not appearing in the theoretical

literature is that the Vietnamese had a ‘de facto’ legitimacy in Khmer eyes as victors of a war that

was generally agreed to have been started by the KR; however this had surely evaporated by this

stage.

We can see that none of these proposed factors clearly shifts at Phase III or seems to

have been highly relevant. Furthermore, the preceding accounts suggest that there was in fact no


great reduction in Red constituency support: the PAVN military operations temporarily subdued

capability, not support.

Of the various factors that are proposed in the literature as shifting popular support, only

those shifting support generally from Blue towards Red are clearly operating. Loss of trust and

breach of values seem to have demobilised support and a broad perception of iniquitous

application of policy to form a novel, immediate and personal threat (in the form of conscription)

seems to have countermobilised the population. We shall now look at the mechanisms of how

actions do (or do not) reduce support for insurgents within the context of the wider processed that

change effectiveness.

5.6 EXAMINING THE MECHANISMS OF REDUCING INSURGENT EFFECTIVENESS

Chapter three explained how the ‘system’ model of insurgency was developed into four

Blue LOE, of which reducing internal support is our ultimate focus. By comparing the way the

different Blue LOE reduce the effectiveness of the insurgency; we gain insight as to their relative

importance. This section examines in turn the mechanisms that may have operated to support

each LOE. It will consider what reduced the impact of actual insurgent activities, what reduced

insurgent capacity to produce such activity, what reduced external support that sustained

insurgent activity, what increased active support for the state, and finally what reduced internal

support for the insurgents.

5.6.1 Reducing Insurgent Activity Value

What mechanisms may have reduced the ‘output value’ of insurgent activities?

Insurgent ‘outputs’ are activities57. The main tools for reducing the ‘value’ of these

activities were the regular armed forces (PAVN and later the KPRAF), the militias, and defensive

works and propaganda: the mechanisms of effect varied. Sweeps and patrols forced the

insurgents to establish bases further from target areas thus dislocating them and by forcing them

to move frequently or abandon supplies degraded their capacity to carry out activities, regardless

of contacts. PRK focus on defence of urban areas and PAVN withdrawal to garrisons (especially

in the wet season) also dislocated the insurgents by reducing vulnerable detachments and creating

concentrations that were difficult and dangerous to attack. PAVN redeployment also somewhat

devalued attacks on targets that were now defended by the KPRAF, insofar as the ‘patriotic’

claim of the insurgency was weakened. A similar mechanism is constituency harm deterrence

where insurgents avoided action which might bring penalty on their constituents. The KR

showed no sign of such inhibitions, but the ANS and PKNLF were increasingly careful not to

57 Activities include mine-laying, assassinations, raids on state establishments, kidnappings, assaults, ambushes as well as propaganda missions sometimes delivered to temporarily ‘captive’ audiences


compromise proximal civilians when they carried out activities. However, whilst indiscriminate

PAVN or KPRAF responses and collective punishments probably did displace non KR insurgent

activities towards other targets there is no suggestion that they reduced net levels.

Since the insurgents generally lived and fought away from the population, combat did

not usually risk heavy civilian casualties and consequently increased support for the insurgents.

The army could thus freely seek operational attrition, for what the better trained and equipped

PAVN could find and fix they could usually destroy. However the scope for concealment and

evasion on forested terrain made this difficult. Even in the months after the invasion as the

PAVN pursued the exhausted KR, the latter would often break contact. As the insurgents

became better at fighting withdrawal and increasingly laid mines, hot pursuits became more

dangerous and thus indecisive (this has echoes in the patterns of recent use of IED by insurgents

in the Middle East). To inflict significant casualties required larger, better planned attacks or

ambushes: both of which needed information. Nevertheless aggressive PAVN patrolling in the

areas they chose to dominate forced the KR to break up and operate in section sized units

(Klintworth, 1989b, p. 8). The excellent PAVN reconnaissance units could and did proactively

locate camps, but repeated successful ambushing of an alert enemy that avoids known routes

requires luck, huge numbers of troops or some advance knowledge. It is significant that whilst

large scale attacks inflicted significant blows on the insurgents, localised offensive operations and

ambushing rarely did so, and even together these actions did not remove more insurgents tan

could be replaced. This is circumstantial evidence that actionable inside information was rare.

PRK propaganda may have aspired to popular support for the regime, but it’s vital role

was to protect against shifts of support to the insurgents. Whilst its revolutionary exhortations

are alien to us and arguably grated on the Kampucheans, the key mechanism was fear: the central

and potent message of the danger of a KR return. It worked. The insurgent alliance may have

reduced fear of the KR, but it also tainted the ANS and KPNLF, by association making their

persuasion task far harder.

The role of the militias was local defence and response applied in conjunction with

defensive works. Whilst they might occasionally have inflicted significant casualties on the

insurgents their mechanisms of effect were not attrition, but protection and isolation: making

insurgent activities less productive. The construction of fortifications hardens or decreases the

effectiveness of insurgent attacks, especially of indirect fire and gives small groups of defenders

an exchange advantage during those attacks. Clearing cover from around routes and villages,

high fences and other barriers improves detection of approaching insurgents, slows them and

exposes them to small arms fire. These tried and tested methods for small groups of motivated

defenders to maintain security against opponent groups of similar order, and the PAVN directed

massive efforts into the physical measures, however neglecting to fully establish and empower

militias early in the campaign. Immediately after the invasion the PAVN were operationally


committed, wished to avoid penny-packeting their troops and were acutely sensitive to latent

xenophobia. Some villages spontaneously established their own militias or were at locations

where PAVN or KPRAF were stationed. In those places where protection consisted of a radio to

call for help, that was hardly sufficient to prevent the KR hiding nearby reappearing to kill and

torture for cooperating with the invader. This may have re-established a wider coercive

ascendancy that explains the persistent accounts of insurgent infiltration into some rural villages

throughout the conflict, long after the time when trained and armed militias were established

everywhere. It is only in the later years after the PAVN withdrawal that accounts of militia

defence of (or at least fighting withdrawal from) villages against the KR seem common. The

framework of stiffening PRK resistance to the KR seems to have been the militia, given that

people were far more prepared to defend their local communities than serve in the PKRAF

(Klintworth, 1989b, p. 8). By that time however, accounts of cooperation with the ANS and

KPNLF are widespread. We can see that from the early eighties many communities did have the

means to defend themselves against attacks and infiltration, yet whether through coercion or

persuasion they often chose not to.

Overall the counterinsurgent forces did reduce the effectiveness of actual insurgent

activities to a sustainable level but their inability to do more than this reflects a population that

never entirely withdrew support for either side.

5.6.2 Reducing Insurgent Activity Production

What mechanisms may have reduced the ‘production capacity’ for insurgent activities?

The ‘production capacity’ of the insurgency to convert inputs, such as recruits, food,

ammunition and information into effective capability after 1979 was almost entirely located in

the border camps, however the conversion of capability into actual activity occurred in patrol

bases in-country. In either location the Vietnamese offensive operations that forced the

insurgents to move (already mentioned above) not only degraded existing pre-capability but

disrupted the process of recruiting, training and sustaining new insurgents. The major offensive

of 1984/5 went beyond this and temporarily decapitated58 the insurgents by seizing most of their

ammunition and food supplies. This damage imposed a ceiling on insurgent activities for a long

time although ‘capability production’ did recover in new camps often deeper across the border.

Given a supply from a ‘captive’ pool of recruits remained; failure to rebuild forces promptly is an

indicator of this damage to infrastructure.

58 In the broader Leites and Wolf usage of ‘decapitation’.


5.6.3 Mechanisms of Reducing External Support

What mechanisms may have reduced external support (inputs) for production of

insurgent activities?

The Vietnamese were entirely unable to demotivate China, ASEAN, US and other

Western countries from supporting the insurgency, although wider geopolitical factors eventually

did so. To reduce internal support they turned to an established approach: physically isolating

the insurgents in country from logistics support with a barrier that would interrupt, slow and

expose it. Given Vietnamese ‘sapper’ expertise, they would not have supposed that K5 would be

impenetrable, but presumably they anticipated some of the historical success of the Damavand

line in Oman or the Morice line in Algeria (Hamilton, 1985). For a brief period, even before it

was complete, K5 showed promise, but staffed by demoralised KPRAF it was soon being

penetrated, albeit that insurgents never regained earlier freedom of movement.

5.6.4 Mechanisms of Increasing Active Support for the State

What mechanisms increased active support for state activities?

The key community support to the states security activities were conscription of various

kinds, service in the militia and provision of intelligence. The widespread obligation for service

in the militia was backed by control measures but appears to have been widely complied with

because of the intrinsic benefit of self-protection. The conscription of the population for military

service and construction tasks relied on a mixture of enforcive and coercive control. KPRAF or

PAVN troops were present to enforce the departure of conscripts (or substitutes). In the case of

construction conscripts, the quota fell upon the community and where the conscripts nominated

did not present themselves a substitute might be demanded from that community, leaders

penalised or collective punishments inflicted as coercive impellance. Reducing the rice ration or

increasing the proportion demanded in tax were simple mechanisms of penalty. The obligation

for military service fell upon a smaller category of young men and whilst any found in an area

might be press-ganged, communities do not appear to have been widely penalised when their

young men evaded. Those refusing to be conscripted and often those criticising the draft were

thrown in jail. The risks of conscripted service of either kind were of the same lethal order albeit

of different duration and the personal penalty for avoiding conscription of either kind was similar.

However, it appears that the collective accountability and punishment mechanism might account

for the much higher compliance rate of the K5 conscription: collective accountability ‘worked’.

There is insufficient data to draw conclusions about how intelligence information was

gathered from the population, beyond observing that it was insufficient to support targeted

operations. There were amnesty and reward programs which the PRK claimed were delivering

results; however very public warnings about false defections and the degree to which PRK


organisations were eventually infiltrated suggest that ‘buying’ information played only a small

role. Another constraining factor was regular KR assassination of alleged informers.

5.6.5 Mechanism of Reducing Internal Support for Insurgents

What mechanisms may have reduced (either by increasing resource cost or reducing

supply) internal support (inputs) for production of insurgent activities?

Determining the mechanism whereby repressive actions subdue support lies at the heart

of this thesis. As we have observed, even in the phase when repression was at its most severe,

the net levels of support were not reduced greatly, but this does not mean that they were not

reduced from what they might have been. This section considers different mechanisms that

might have reduced internal inputs to the insurgency using the Leites & Wolf frame of increasing

resource cost and reducing supply. For comparative purposes, soft measures are also examined.

The establishment of enforcive control whereby any act of non-conformity (support to

insurgents) is perceived as almost certain to be recognised and penalised was perhaps an

aspiration of the Vietnamese: the Viet Cong had arguably approached this condition in many

villages in South Vietnam and the DK had been one of the few recent societies where it had been

broadly achieved. Apart from the Vietnamese ideological need to distinguish itself from the

previous regime, the reliable cadre structure to impose such control did not exist. The imposed

krom samakai community structure does not seem to have operated as much as an effective

system of informers and observers reporting to the state as equivalent structures did in Vietnam.

However it does seem to have operated as a system for hierarchical and collective accountability.

If an unavailable or unidentified individual transgressed or the community failed to meet

obligations then the group or the group leader was punished. Communities thus, to an unknown

degree, seem to have ‘self-policed’ through coercive deterrence or suppression.

We can usefully contrast the coercive mechanism as it operated within rural areas to

ensure that labourers complied with conscription with the way it operated there to penalise

supposed complicity with insurgent attacks near villages. In both cases the severity of penalty

was understandable to a post-KR community and mechanisms of warning (precedent) were

present. However, collective coercion to deliver conscripts, which was largely within the

capacity of the community to deliver and was obvious and had predictable consequences for

failure, delivered fairly high compliance, as theory would predict. Collective coercion to deter

much less visible community assistance to insurgents seems to have been far less successful.

There was collective punishment of communities after insurgent attack nearby. It appears to

have been fairly erratically (and thus unpredictably) applied in circumstances which are

inherently indiscriminate in that the community did not have much capacity to influence events.

Insurgents would have been highly unlikely to give villagers information about specific

forthcoming operations: warnings were thus not practicable. They might have been able to


supply authorities with more general information that insurgents were in the area, but this seems

to have been unusual. Individual coercive deterrence was applied via the threat of summary

arrest, torture and execution, but this clearly failed to deter the many who had contact with the

insurgents. For most of the campaign the insurgents, especially the KR, in many areas and for

much of the conflict had a comparable and possibly more discriminate (because of inside

information) capacity to coerce that offset government attempts to do the same.

It follows that counter-coercion, a reduction of the insurgent’s capacity to coerce, would

have important benefits as would isolation with defences that impede the flow of propaganda in

and support out. This may have been borne out by the patterns of improving security in 1983 as

more villages were provided with physical barriers and defences, but the negative impact of the

K5 program the next year wiped out any progress before it was unequivocal.

One of the most effective levers for reducing support for the insurgents, albeit

unintentional, was physical and psychological exhaustion. An already weakened population that

continued to be undernourished and that had a demographic ‘hole’ of younger males did not have

the capacity to sustain itself even before conscription was imposed: there was rarely surplus food

to be willingly given. Furthermore, quite aside from risks of collective or individual punishment,

the act of fleeing to the insurgents left remaining families even worse off.

In contrast to the above robust mechanisms of reducing support for the insurgents, most

‘soft’ measures had relatively little impact. The most successful was co-option, where for those

not living on the land; the only source of food was a government rice wage, enticing many to join

the regime. The PRK made a huge propaganda effort, which certainly successfully reinforced

popular fear of the KR, but was unable to establish its own popular legitimacy, at least not until

after the PAVN withdrawal, by which time the insurgency was ascendant. The regime made no

effective attempt to create or tolerate alternative political outlets that might have diverted support

for the insurgency.

The cost-benefit calculation for a typical Khmer citizen during the insurgency clearly

favoured compliance with PRK visible directed actions: coercive impellance was achieved.

Active support to insurgents was much less visible but the ‘cost’ was very high and where in

places such as towns or garrisoned villages where support might be readily detected it was

generally coercively suppressed. Unsurprisingly, most insurgent support was found in the

‘unsupervised’ more remote rural areas where ‘cost risk’ was lower. What is interesting is that

cost benefit theory would suggest that as the insurgency seemed less likely to succeed people

would shift support to the PRK. However, after the massive blows landed on the insurgents in

the 1984/85 offensives and an associated overall drop in insurgent activity the insurgents

appeared less likely succeed. At the same time, the brutal enforcement of conscription for K5

was clearly demonstrating a higher ‘cost’ of non-compliance than the admittedly high ‘cost’ of

being conscripted to K5. The theory would suggest a reduction in support, yet in fact there was a


surge in support evidenced by recruitment to the insurgency. This supports Wood (2003) and

others who suggest emotion and the desire for agency trump rational calculation.

A final proposed mechanism for reducing support for the insurgency is axiological,

where cultural or moral inhibitors are triggered to induce people to withdraw support for the

insurgency: unacceptable insurgent action reduces legitimacy and thus support. PRK

propaganda strove to establish this, with ‘genocide displays’ and ‘days of hate’, but the KR had

already demonised themselves in the eyes of the populace and there was little scope for a ‘shift’

of perceptions that might improve the relative legitimacy of the regime. However, the PRK did

initially have a degree of legitimacy as ‘liberators’ which could be lost. It was lost after the

unacceptable repression associated with conscription.

5.6.6 Summary: Examination of Mechanisms

The ‘system’ model of insurgency has provided a comparative basis for examining the

value of different mechanisms of reducing support for insurgents with each other and with other

relevant processes. In general PRK measures intended to reduce internal support for the

insurgents were not effective and the robust methods undermined its own legitimacy ensuring

that the ‘soft’ methods such as propaganda gained inadequate purchase. The PRK hierarchical

systems of social organisation did achieved some coercive deterrence and suppression of

cooperation with the insurgents, particularly through threats of collective punishment. However

this never approached enforcive control nor was it able even to provide an effective intelligence

network: people were either not inclined to cooperate or too frightened, being effectively counter

coerced by the insurgents. The most effective means of denying support was probably

inadvertent: whilst the population was starving and exhausted it gave insurgents little effective

support and was beholden to the state for rice rations.

The mirror task of increasing active support for the state was undermined by a lack of

legitimacy. Coercive measures were clearly successfully used (at great cost) to achieve

impellance in the form of compliance with highly visible requirements such as conscription.

However the effectiveness of robust measures up to and including the use of torture in

compelling the flow of information is seems dubious: the degree of infiltration of communities

by the insurgents is strong evidence of the overall failure of such coercion.

The PAVN and KPRAF were relatively more successful with the application of

conventional military force mechanisms. The impact of actual insurgent activities was kept at a

sustainable level by PAVN deployment strategy and response operations which delivered

dislocation and attrition. The KPRAF were by processes of protection, isolation and hardening

generally able to defend urban areas, keep most routes open and deny the insurgents easy control

of key points, if sometimes for no other reason than the soldiers lives depended on fighting.

Similarly insurgent capacity was reduced by PAVN and later KPRAF offensive operations that


degraded, disrupted and for a period in 1985 decapitated (PKNLF) activity production. In the

same manner external support that sustained insurgent activity was reduced by the K5 barrier

which somewhat isolated the insurgents from exterior support but failed because of its manning

by unreliable KPRAF troops.

5.7 CHAPTER SUMMARY

This thesis seeks to investigate when and how robust action reduces insurgent support or

appears to, asking: What are the conditions under which and mechanisms by which this occurs?

The findings are summarised in this section as a series of bullet point statements below. This

study has also revealed that the PAVN and the PRK were probably more effective than the

original VTFS analysis gives them credit for, but this is beyond the scope of the thesis.

This conflict was selected as one of those in which repression was used and appeared to

have reduced internal support for the insurgency. On closer examination, the most significant

repression was neither directly aimed at internal support nor did it reduce such support beyond

the short term: indeed, it increased popular inclination to support insurgents. Other factors,

especially conventional military operations, removal of manpower and sheer deprivation

decreased actual internal support for a short period.

Critically, the most widespread coercive methods [for conscription] were aimed at

enforcing the PRK ‘national effort’ rather than deterring or suppressing support for insurgents

directly. Despite local excesses there was not a widespread official policy of collective

punishment for areas where insurgent activity occurred. Where robust coercive measures (e.g.

mass arrests and interrogations) were increased for periods they are not associated with

reductions in support for insurgents, although the baseline level of such coercion undoubtedly

influenced support.

Shifts in both general preferences and voluntary active support seem to have been

emotionally and negatively generated, i.e. support for the PRK came from fear of the KR and

support for the insurgency came from anger at the PRK. However actual support given to either

party was typically reluctant and coerced, and whilst both PRK and KR were brutal in

enforcement, the pattern of insurgent encroachment in rural areas shows that the infiltration of

communities by insurgents greatly surpassed the presence of informants loyal to the PRK: the

insurgents won the coercion battle in rural areas.

The Vietnamese were acutely aware of the risks of alienating the Khmers and shaped

relatively restrained PAVN policy accordingly. Nevertheless whilst the Vietnamese need to hand

over to the PRK demanded conscription that might inevitably have lost legitimacy, it

unquestionably did when brutally administered. Brutal collective counter-coercion might have

been less counterproductive. One of the interesting findings is that collective punishment

schemes appear more effective overall than individual sanctions.


Finally the complexity of concurrent mobilisation, demobilisation and suppression

effects in the Khmer community under repressive stimulus suggest that a new model of responses

on more than two dimensions is needed.

The key points are:

Strategy and Support

External support drove the conflict but lack of internal support protracted it.

Good strategy is necessary but not sufficient to prevail: even with major military capability,

popular support remains critical.

Internal Support and its Shifts

Internal support for either side was typically reluctant and coerced.

Active and willing shift of support towards one party was usually the result of increased

threat or harm from the other party rather than persuasion.

Demobilisation, and counter-mobilisation are similar possible responses to state robust

actions but not equally visible or significant. Demobilisation was widespread and steady,

only reversing somewhat in the final stages, whilst counter-mobilisation surged at Phase III.

Demobilisation crippled the PRK project.

Military Measures

Overall, the counterinsurgent forces used robust conventional military operations and the

K5 barrier to reduce the effectiveness of insurgent activities to a sustainable level.

The Shift of Support by Robust Measures

Individual and collective repression by the PRK generally was not associated with a

reduction in support to the insurgents; however this does not mean that the repression was

not having an effect.

The repression associated with the conscription for K5 was correlated with a reduction in

insurgent activity as well as being firmly linked to an increase in insurgent recruitment: it

was counterproductive.

Context of robust measures is critical.

Conditions for Shifting Insurgent Support

Hunger and other deprivation can assist in applying robust coercive measures whereas an

inability to protect a community or lack of reliable informers within it will undermine such

approaches.


Mechanisms of Shifting Insurgent Support

Collective punishment was more effective than personal sanctions.

A clear difference in the value of coercive impellance and deterrence or suppression was

evident: the former was effective because compliance was visible.

Coercive deterrence or suppression of support for insurgents broadly failed because of a

lack of reliable informers, counter coercion and infiltration.

Cost benefit/rational actor theory analysis is challenged by this case and a new line of

research is suggested.

Counterinsurgency Lessons

Indigenous forces may generate worse popular responses than invaders.

6Chapter 6: The Insurgency in Turkey by the PKK, 1984-1999

Introduction

Between 1984 and 1999 the Marxist Workers Party of Kurdistan (PKK) fought an

insurgency against the Turkish state. VTFS rate this conflict an unambiguous counterinsurgent

win, notwithstanding subsequent resumption. The Turkish forces employed robust methods

throughout all four phases of the campaign, whilst internal support for insurgents and their

capacity to maintain force size were both concurrently reduced in the first and third phases. This

provides clear periods in which to analyse whether robust measures did contribute to reduced

support as assumed by some observers.

This chapter offers a background to the insurgency and then discusses each of the VTFS

phases in some detail, breaking each phase into years as a unit of description. An extensive

background discussion is necessary to explain the context of the emergence of the PKK and

especially its ‘frame’ of popular support. A thousand years of Kurdish tribal defence of local

autonomy followed by a century of trans-tribal rebellions crushed by two neighbouring Empires

and the increasingly nationalist Turkish or Iranian states that replaced them leaves a legacy. This

includes a tradition of heroic struggle tempered by memories of ruthless and near-genocidal

The Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) began its insurgency as the outlawed party of an

ethnic minority whose very existence was denied by the Turkish Constitution. The PKK

struggled initially to develop support among a Kurdish population familiar with Turkish

repression and not keen on further quixotic resistance. Over time, the PKK established

itself as the premiere Kurdish cultural, political, and resistance organization and won

significant regional popular support for its secessionist violence. This growth in

support was a product not only of PKK successes but also of the repressive and heavy‐

handed response by Turkish authorities. The PKK was defeated in 1999 after several

years of “big stick” COIN by the Turks. Turkish forces had taken drastic measures to

separate the insurgents from the population in the mountain villages in the area of

conflict, aggressively pursued the insurgents into the mountains, sought to cut off

cross‐border support to them, and, most tellingly, made a political deal with

extranational hosts to capture the authoritarian leader of the PKK, Abdullah Öcalan.

Summary from RAND ‘Victory has a Thousand Fathers’ (Paul 2010)


repression. It is equally important to understand the historical basis for Turkish assimilationist

policies and a dogmatic refusal to countenance any political settlement, factors that perversely

combined to nurture a feeble Kurdish nationalism. The course of PKK campaign was also

fundamentally shaped by varying levels of cross border support and clashes with other Kurd

groups.

6.1 BACKGROUND

General Geography

Turkey lies at the eastern end of the Mediterranean and below the Black sea, bordering

Greece, Bulgaria, Syria, Iraq, Iran, Armenia and Georgia (Figure 25). Narrow coastal plains rise

to a high central Anatolian plateau which becomes more rugged and eventually mountainous

towards the east. The coastal climate is temperate but it becomes harsher in the interior and

severe with heavy snowfall in the mountains, which limits movement and makes good winter

shelter essential (Latif, 1999, p. 60).

Figure 25: Turkey: Location, Cities and Neighbours ‐ Source CIA Factbook 2010

The population of about 75 million is almost entirely Sunni Muslim, but ethnically

divided into about 75% Turkish and 18% Kurdish with the balance (Eriten & Romine, 2008, p.

15) other small minority groups. The ethnic Turks are the descendents of the invading Turkic

and Mongol tribes who became a nation under the Sejuk and Ottoman dynasties (Mango, 2004,

p. 98). The Kurds are a group of Iranic tribal peoples, who originate from and mainly live in the

lands of three great mountain ranges lying south of the Caucuses and along the boundary of the

old Ottoman and Persian empires. The part in southeast Turkey is rugged with erratic rocky

ridges, very isolated mountain valleys, canyons and caves. This is especially true along the Iraqi

border which thus cannot be fully controlled, whereas the Syrian border is flatter and can be

better closed (with wire and mines) (van Bruinessen, 1988, p. 44). Much of the area is now

deforested, though pastoralists still move between upland pastures and the temperate valleys

Turkey Page 157

where agriculture flourishes (McDowall, 2007, p. 243). There is also oil and a range of other

mineral wealth and the regionally vital flows of the Euphrates and Tigris rivers originate here.

Turkish Identity

Turkey is the residual and successor state of the crumbled Ottoman Empire, forged in a

war of independence and a social revolution which saved it from the greater dismemberment

intended by the victors of WW1 (Soysal, 1999, p. 12). Mustapha Kemal Pasha ‘Ataturk’, the

hero of Gallipoli, revitalised the political legacy of the ‘Young Turks’ government (discredited

for joining the War), and created a popular Nationalist movement. With material support from

the USSR the Turkish Nationalists were able to defeat Greek, Armenian and French armies,

replace the Sultan with a republic, dissolve the caliphate and force the European powers to

recognise an emergent Turkey in the 1923 treaty of Lausanne.

The Kurds

The Kurds form significant populations of disputed size in eastern Turkey, northern Iraq

and Syria, and western Iran (Jwaideh, 2006, pp. 7-10, 38) with a total of between 20 and 30

million (Kreyenbroek & Sperl, 1992, p. Cover; McDowall, 2007, p. 3; P. J. White, 2000, p. 17).

Despite forced relocations, Kurds are the dominant ethnic group(s) in the dark shaded area shown

on the map at Figure 26, though their discrete ethnicity is hotly disputed by some Turkish

scholars (Laciner & Bal, 2004).

Figure 26: Distribution of Kurdish Peoples ‐ source 'Occidental Soapbox'

The multiple, overlapping and contradictory factions of the Kurds defy simple

classification, though key but overlapping divisions are between the Sunni ‘Kurmancî’, the

linguistically distinct Zaza’s, and the hetrodox-Shia Alevi’s (P. White, unpaginated) and are

further divided among sub-dialect, clan and sect lines to form territorially based and loosely


consanguineous ‘quasi-feudal groupings that reduce or exclude loyalty to larger polities or

notions of Kurdish unity’ (Dunn, 1995) and which may ‘conveniently if imprecisely be called

tribes’ (McDowall, 2007, p. 13). Differences between them are often greater than with Turks

from the west (Kocher, 2002, p. 11). Fluctuating confederations of these fiercely distinct warrior

tribes have regularly fought each other and central authority, but never united in single entity

(Morgado, 2006, p. 33). A sense of Kurdish nationalism only really emerged in the 20th century,

ironically driven by parent state attempts to impose an alien identity (McDowall, 2007, p. 2).

The Kurds and the Seeds of Kemalism

After the 1514 Battle of Chaldiran, the Kurdish tribes came under the nominal authority

of the Ottoman and Persian empires (Iranian Kurdistan, 2010). For three centuries, Kurdish

nomad and hill village tribes raided and feuded in the rugged terrain beyond the towns, making

occasional local challenge to the loose rule of Constantinople or the firmer variety from Isfahan

(McDowall, 2007, p. 26).

The Ottomans successfully co-opted their subject peoples under local rulers and the

inclusive ‘millet’ system, although as Muslim’s Kurds were required to acknowledge the Sultan

as Caliph. A pragmatic pact granted varying local autonomy according to accessibility. This

‘divide and rule’ approach nourished multiple rich Kurdish cultures and tribal structures resistant

to the emergence of a state. The legacy is both rebelliousness and the deep social divides that

have undermined every Kurdish uprising (Kendal, 1993b, pp. 12-15). Tribal fiefdoms retained

relative autonomy under the Sultan until the late 1800’s and remote Dersim was still in

‘unrecognised independence’ in the 1930’s (P. White).

In Persia, although language and cultural similarities with the overlords allowed greater

participation and advancement, the Kurds were ruled more tightly. This led to both greater

resistance and then brutal repression (McDowall, 2007, p. 33). Destruction of Kurdish cities and

forced relocations of populations, which started as ‘scorched earth’ tactics when retreating from

the Ottomans in 1535 and transmuted into semi-genocide with massacres of all those implicated

in the Dimdim rebellion of 1609 and forced relocations of the associated tribes.

In the 19th century, conflict flared in Kurdish areas as embedded tribalism collided with

the demands of Ottoman and Persian rulers as they faltered against European armies and each

other. In 1839, after Greece had won independence from the Sultan and facing European

military superiority, economic coercion and continuing sponsorship of Ottoman Christian

separatism (Kendal, 1993b, p. 11), the Ottoman Empire began the ‘Tanzimat’ reforms. These

were intended to integrate subjects, improve civil liberties and redistribute land, but the

imposition of direct rule from Constantinople alienated the Kurds (Morgado, 2006, p. 34) and

prompted three rebellions in 1843 alone.

Turkey Page 159

‘Tanzimat’ generated backlash elsewhere. Ending ‘millet’ privileges and mandating

equality and cultural autonomy was intended to reduce separatist pressure, but inadvertently

improved the position of the Christian middle classes relative to Muslims (Morgado, 2006, pp. 7-

11). Popular resentment of such ‘westernising’ was aggravated by repeated European

intervention supporting the independence struggles of Christian minorities. Bitter memories of

Independence movements eroding and dismembering the Ottoman state with European support

and the consequent flight of Muslims into Anatolia (Zürcher, 2004, pp. 50-62, 81) are at the root

of contemporary dogmatic rejection of 'minority status' for the Kurds or any other community

(Yavuz, 2001, p. 17). Although in the 1860’s a secretive ‘Young Ottoman’ movement developed

that hoped to create a multi-national liberal-constitutionalist society, it failed to attract Christians,

inclining Muslim intellectuals towards anti-Christian sentiments (Mango, 2004, p. 19). Ottoman-

Turkish nationalism thus can be understood as first emerging as a response to failed liberalism

and as a defensive reaction to external pressures.

Kurdish Nationalism Emerges

Nationalism would now increasingly begin to colour Kurdish rebellion. During the

1877-8 war with Russia, the Sultan armed tribal forces and appointed a widely respected Islamic

scholar, Sheikh Ubaydullah to lead them. Uniting feuding tribes under an explicitly Kurdish and

religious banner, he was able to leverage modern weapons (Correspondence Respecting the

Kurdish invasion of Persia, 1881), establish wide control in northern Kurdistan and counter

Shikak nomad (eastern Persian-Kurd) raiding (Zürcher, 2004, p. 75). Ubaydullah increasingly

then rejected Ottoman official’s authority whilst proclaiming loyalty to the Sultan. In 1880 he

overreached himself when, to further suppress the Shikak, his forces invaded and ravaged Persian

Azerbajan, leading to massive response, defeat and exile (Borovali, 1987, p. 30; Correspondence

Respecting the Kurdish invasion of Persia, 1881, pp. 45, 61, 76; Jwaideh, 2006, pp. 81-82).

Kurdish nationalism now had ‘form’. In the 1890’s the Sultan continued a policy of co-option,

appointing Kurds to senior positions, educating chiefs’ sons in Constantinople and raising a large

force of Kurdish ‘Hamidiye’ cavalry which acquired a reputation for brutality (Bois, 1966, p.

141; Lortz, 2005, p. 7) increased Sunni dominance (Aydın, 2005, p. 20) and inadvertently created

an the intellectual and organisational core of Kurdish nationalism (Morgado, 2006, pp. 35-37).

An Ottoman intellectual, political and artistic renaissance led to the 1908 coup of the

modernising ‘Young Turk movement’, which initially pursued the pan-national ideals of their

Young Ottoman predecessors. However, this liberalisation unleashed political unrest, separatism

and, after the failed Islamic countercoup of 1909, more territorial losses in Balkan wars and

further inflows of Muslim refugees. Xenophobia flourished. Fearing foreign envelopment,

rebellion was robustly confronted, especially in Kurdistan.


In 1914 the Young Turks negotiated a secret alliance with Germany leading to

participation in WW1. During the war Ottoman and Russian armies swept back and forth

ethnically cleansing Armenians and Kurds respectively (McDowall, 2007, p. 103). Kurdish

rebellion was subsumed in the chaos. Whilst many Kurds served the Sultan loyally and with

distinction, some made overtures to the Russians (McDowall, 2007, p. 101) and a few fought for

them (Kendal, 1993b, p. 29). Consequently from 1916 perhaps 700,000 Kurds of doubtful

loyalty were forcibly relocated in the face of Russian advances and many agitating were arrested

and executed (Bois, 1966, p. 142). At the War’s end at least 500,000 Kurds had died, whilst

looting and destruction left the remainder starving (McDowall, 2007, p. 109) with ‘society in

disarray, intelligentsia fled and sheiks in control of the wreckage’ (Izady, 1992, p. 59). The

Allies now moved to occupy the defeated Ottoman Empire and since they had promised the

Kurds autonomy, for a moment Kurdish independence seemed possible (McDowall, 2007, p. xi).

Empire Dismembered and Kemalism Emerges

The 1918 Armistice of Mudros ending hostilities in the Middle East had agreed limited

and conditional control of the Ottoman territory. The victorious Allies had however secretly

agreed to dismember the Sultan’s Empire, with the British rapidly seizing Mosul, keen to secure

its oil. Still discredited for promoting the War, during 1919 the Young Turks and others in the

military under Mustafa Kemal ‘Ataturk’ quietly prepared to fight, concentrating in unoccupied

central Anatolia under cover of demobilisation. When the Greeks began to occupy Western

Anatolia, localised resistance heralded the Turkish War of Independence: public despair turned to

mass protest (Zürcher, 2004, pp. 136, 139). The Ottoman Parliament defiantly published a

Muslim-Ottoman ‘national pact’. In early 1920 the British moved to occupy Istanbul and assert

control, arrest the Nationalist leadership and implement the secret agreements. This drove many

parliamentarians and supporters to flee to a new ‘Unionist’ assembly in Ankara, as yet still

formally loyal to the ‘captive’ Sultan (Yüksel, 2007, pp. 42-46). The division became civil war

as the British unsuccessfully attempted to assert authority, using irregular bands and by

promoting rebellion (Zürcher, 2004, p. 152). The nationalist movement was legitimised when, in

the face of Greek advances deep into Anatolia, the Sultan accepted the Allied dismemberment of

the Empire in the Treaty of Sevres.

Ataturk had rebuilt an army in the east and had begun to defeat the British and French

led troops that fought in the name of the Sultan, alarming these two war-weary allies. They

decided to secure their ‘Arab’ areas of the Ottoman Empire and leave the Nationalists in Anatolia

to the Greeks. In 1918 in Mosul the British appointed the Kurdish rebel leader Mahmud Barzanji

governor, but he turned on them and was defeated and arrested. This consequent perception of

‘Christian rule’ began to increase support for the Turks in Kurdish areas so the British

Turkey Page 161

reappointed Barzanji, who, in 1922, promptly declared himself ‘King of Kurdistan’, an autonomy

that was temporarily tolerated.

In 1921 the Greek advance into Anatolia was stopped on the Sakarya river by the

Nationalists who in 1922, rearmed by the USSR, drove them back to the Mediterranean (Bois,

1966, p. 144): Ataturk had triumphed. The Turkish Parliament or Grand Assembly dismissed

Mehmet VI as Sultan, and later would abolish the Caliphate (Aydın, 2005, p. 24). The 1923

Treaty of Lausanne recognised the still-current borders of the Turkish republic, except that

disagreement arising from Turkish desire to retain Kurdish areas and British desire to secure

access to their oilfields led to deferring the matter of Mosul province to the League of Nations.

In 1924 British manoeuvring prevailed, and Kurdistan was split between Turkey and two new

‘mandated’ nations, ‘French’ Syria and ‘British’ Iraq (Berriedale, 1926, p. 39; Dunn, 1995;

Kendal, 1993a, p. 50; Soysal, 1999, p. 13).

Many Kurds had been motivated by religious solidarity (Massicard, 2009, p. 2) to

support the Unionist cause and fight (Chaliand, 1993, p. 5) against foreign invaders: unaware of

the secularist agenda (Romano et al., 2006, p. 30). Of 23 rebellions during the war, only 3 or 4

were Kurdish (Kirişci & Winrow, 1997, p. 80). However, the Dersim Koçkiri uprising in 1920,

as the Greeks advanced in the West and the Armenians in the East (Romano et al., 2006, p. 26),

(Massicard, 2009, p. 4) and other Kurdish rebellions after 1923 represented a real threat to the

revolution and were not unreasonably perceived as Allied manipulations. Resultant anti-Kurd

feeling aligned with a xenophobic narrowing of Kemalists’ conception of Turkish identity

(Kirişci & Winrow, 1997, p. 92). This echoes today Turkish paranoia that human right concerns

are international conspiracies to dismember the Turkish state: the ‘Sèvres Syndrome’ (Loizides,

2010, p. 513). ‘Fear of partition still haunts Turkish society and breeds continuing suspicion of

foreigners and their sinister domestic collaborators’ (Yavuz, 2001, p. 6).

The secular-nationalist nature of the ‘Kemalist’ revolution would have profound

implications for relations with the Kurds, both fomenting religious-based dissent and obstructing

future political solutions. Although far from atheist (Cornell, 2001, p. 33), Ataturk believed that

the monarchy and the political function of religion had stifled the natural progress of society

whilst Ottoman Quranic tolerance and protection of minorities had fatally weakened the empire.

He envisaged a substitute nationalistic loyalty to a new conception of a state: ‘Turkishness

became the overarching unifier’ (Morgado, 2006, p. 19). The Kemalist philosophy drew on the

French model for social harmony (Mango, 2005, p. 10) and conceived the Turkish nation as the

sum of citizens in its territory and blind to ethnicity. Ataturk described Turkish nationalism as “

‘Ne Mutlu Turkum Diyene!’ best translated as ‘Happy is whoever says I am a Turk’ — not

whoever is a Turk” (Zehni, 2008, p. 56). However the concept equally excluded those ‘who

would not abandon prior identity’ (Cornell, 2001, p. 34), lest any recognition of such ethnicity

compete for loyalty (Gürbey, 1996, p. 11). That the borders and national culture are inviolable is


the legal and constitutional position: any party challenging this invites its own suspension.

Beyond this emerged an ‘emotional and ideological attachment to territory that is almost

mystical’ (McDowall, 2007, p. 7).

Compounding this inflexibility was Ataturk’s prescribed role for the military. Led by a

reformist generation it was the vanguard, driver and guide of the Turkish revolution.

Constitutionally it remains not only authorised, but obliged, to intervene to guarantee

governance, secularism, and an indivisible unitary state (Gürbey, 1996, p. 12; Morgado, 2006,

pp. 23,33,50). Thus the military ‘guides democracy’ by the real threat of intervention, as an

autonomous institution that is never fully subordinate to politicians (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p.

104). Perceiving ethnic dissent as both a threat in itself and a vulnerability historically used by

external enemies, the military are implacably opposed to political compromise with the Kurds

and drive the official intolerance of Kurdish identity that lies at the heart of the conflict (Ergil,

2007, p. 324). This idiosyncratic role and assertive perspective survives to this day, long

protected from political reform by the imperatives of the Cold War (Larrabee, 1997, p. 165).

Interwar Rebellion and Repression in the ‘New States’

After WW1 there were rebellions across the new borders as Kurds resisted the authority

of new political masters. In Iraq Sheikh Mahmud Barzanji conspired with the Turks and in 1924

his ‘Kurdistan’ was crushed with RAF bombing support. Another Barzani tribe revolt in 1927

under Sheikh Ahmed met a similar fate. Barzanji had escaped to the mountains and after he

failed to precipitate a revolt in Iran in 1926 and led another major rising in Iraq in 1930, he was

captured in 1933 (Izady, 1992, p. 64).

In Turkey the continuing secularisation, assimilation and centralisation agenda of the

Kemalists saw the closure of Kurdish schools, publications and religious orders which deeply

alienated conservative Muslim Kurds (Mango, 2004, p. 212). Religious justification added to

defence of autonomy to fuel (Dunn, 1995) dozens of interwar rebellions and barbarous

repressions (Kendal, 1993a, p. 51). The largest was led by Sheikh Said who in 1925 declared

‘jihad against secularisation’. The rebellion quickly gained mass support and control of a third of

Kurdistan. It took the Turks four months, massive forces, rival tribes, and aerial bombardment to

crush. Thousands of peasants were massacred, hundreds of villages burned, and large numbers

publicly hanged, including the Sheikh (Aydın, 2005, p. 27; Kendal, 1993a, p. 53; P. White).

The Sheikh Said revolt provided both a trigger and pretext for the Kemalists to not only

repress the Kurds but secure military and one party rule. In 1927 Said’s brother rebelled in

revenge and then with Iranian encouragement survivors of the first revolt and the Kurmancî

tribes east of Lake Van declared a ‘Republic of Ararat’. With other tribes rising in support, the

initial Turkish response was beaten back and it took until 1930, Iranian quiescence, a massive

force and, significantly, over 100 aircraft to surround and crush the rebels (Kendal, 1993a, pp. 51,

Turkey Page 163

56; Lortz, 2005, p. 18). The brutality was such that the parliament retrospectively passed a law

providing that murder during the rebellion was not a crime (Dunn, 1995).

Although these rebellions remained regional and were usually suppressed with the aid of

other Kurds (Kirişci & Winrow, 1997, p. 105), many Turks since this time have perceived the

Kurds as a fanatical, ‘theocratic and reactionary’ (Olson, 2000, p. 70) threat to the Republic

(Yavuz, 2001, p. 8).

War and After: Silence in Turkey, a Chimera in Iran and Intrigue in Iraq

During WW2 and the following decade, the legacy of suppression and emerging political

options led to a ‘period of silence’ in Turkey (Bozarsalan, 2000, p. 17) with Kurdish nationalism

more visible in Iraq and Iran. In Iraq between 1943 and 1945 Mustapha Barzani’s ‘Peshmerga’

guerrillas inflicted defeats on the Iraqis before the RAF turned the tables and he fled to the Soviet

occupied north of ‘neutral’ Iran (Lortz, 2005, p. 25). Here the Soviets had sponsored a ‘Republic

of Kurdistan’ around Mahabad under the newly formed Kurdish Democratic Party (KDP).

When the Soviets withdrew in 1946, the Iranians crushed the fledging state, executing many of

the leaders, although Barzani and a few hundred fought their way to the USSR. The Iranians

thereafter repressed Kurdish language and culture. In Iraq in 1958 Abdul Karim Qasim seized

power and declared a republic. Barzani and the ‘Iraqi’ KDP was welcomed back (Bois, 1966, p.

153) and promised Kurdish autonomy in return for support, however Qasim failed to deliver on

autonomy and fearing growing KDP power began inciting Barzani’s Kurdish enemies(Borovali,

1987, pp. 19, 32). In Syria the smaller and less militant Kurdish population experienced

increasing harassment associated with Arab perceptions of Kurd migration into the fertile Jazira

region.

Turkey had strenuously avoided involvement in the WW2 and repressed any group that

threatened that objective, only entering the war on the Allied side once victory was inevitable

(Mango, 2004, pp. 32-38). Afterwards there was a Marshall Plan seeded agricultural boom and

reflecting US requirements (Mango, 2004, pp. 40-43), some political ‘liberalisation’. Ataturk’s

single (social democrat) Republican Peoples Party (CHP) split and a rival (conservative)

Democrat Party (DP) was successful in the first ‘free’ elections in 1950, 1954 and 1957. The DP,

with overwhelming support from Kurds (Dunn, 1995), challenged the Kemalist model (and thus

the military) by relaxing secularist laws, reviving Muslim practice, re-opening mosques and

building links with Muslim states. However, populist economic policies including privatisation

and huge borrowing to fund often unsound development projects led to economic downturn and

spreading political discontent. ‘Defence of secularism’ became a rallying cry and, confronted by

this, prime minister Menderes moved to crush all opposition (Mango, 2004, pp. 44-53).


The 1960’s: Peshmerga Success, Turkish Turmoil and Coups

The 1960’s saw turmoil and coups in Turkey, Syria and Iraq with both a Kurdish

factional split and growing guerrilla war in the latter. In 1960 the military in Turkey mounted a

coup to ‘protect constitutional secularism’ with the tacit support of the elites, hanged Menderes

and jailed 400 DP members before installing a technocrat junta. Their new more liberal

constitution shifted to a bicameral system with proportional representation, intended to prevent

domination by one party. They also codified a role for the military in Government via a military-

civilian National Security Council (MGK) with wide powers (Gunter, 1989, p. 64). The political

environment remained chaotic, driven by poverty in rural areas, migration to cities and

unemployment and hardship amongst the young. A radicalised leftist and union movement soon

emerged (Zehni, 2008, pp. 9-10). The 1961 constitution theoretically improved civic rights but

failed to deliver stable government, shifting from an exaggerated majority system that allowed

domination by a party to rampant multi-partyism (Gunter, 1989, p. 64; Marcus, 2007, p. 19).

Indecisive election results led to a military-directed CHP minority government in coalition with

two DP successor parties. They criminalised Kurdish parties and acknowledgement of different

languages or races in Turkey but could get agreement on little else (Marcus, 2007, p. 17).

Despite its mandate, Demirel’s Justice Party (JP) government (1965-1971) was not stable or

effective, and society polarised left and right, with some leftists being armed by the Soviets.

Inspired by Barzani in Iraq (Mango, 2004, pp. 60-69), a defiant Kurdish identity and separatist

groups emerged, including a conservative-separatist Turkish KDP (TKDP) (Marcus, 2007, pp.

17, 20). As leftist and anti-US riots and sit-ins were attacked by the right wing, the military had

increasingly to restore order (Mango, 2004, pp. 15, 60-69).

In this period in Syria Kurdish agitation met exclusion and in 1961 the language was

banned and perhaps 200,000 were stripped of citizenship (Dunn, 1995; Tejel, 2009, pp. 48-64).

However in Iraq, the KDP had largely defeated the pro-government rival groups and in 1961

controlled most of Iraqi Kurdistan. When they ejected government officials and demanded

promised autonomy, Qasim struck back with his air force, unifying the Kurds against him, before

attacking a now substantial guerrilla army. After the 1963 coup against Qasim, the new regime

mounted another unsuccessful offensive against the Kurds before declaring a unilateral ceasefire

in 1964. Barzani’s traditional faction accepted this; whilst leftist urban factions under Ibrahim

Ahmad and Jamal Talibani split away in a schism that would long continue weaken the Kurdish

cause. They were driven into Iran until the conflict resumed in 1965.

For four years the Kurds fought the Iraqis with extensive help from the Iranians, Israelis

and later the CIA. It was an erratic war in which the Kurd factions also vied for favour with the

Iraqis as they fought each other (Lortz, 2005, pp. 41-47). After a disastrous Iraqi offensive in

1966 the Kurds gradually gained control of the mountain areas. A Baathist coup in 1968 allied

Turkey Page 165

the Ahmad-Talibani faction with the state, but together they were still unable to defeat Baranzi

and negotiations resumed (Borovali, 1987, p. 33).

The 1970’s: Regional Repression and Revolution, a Turkish ‘Memo Coup’ and the PKK born

The 1970’s saw Kurds in Iraq subdued, but a combination of another coup and chaos in

Turkey, a welcoming environment in Syria and ambiguity from the Iranian revolution provided

the conditions to nurture the PKK.

In Iraq a 1970 Soviet promoted peace agreement that provided autonomy was

undermined by Iraqi Arabisation programmes (Chaliand, 1993, p. 7) in oil rich areas as well as

by KDP denial of a Turkomen majority in Kirkuk, continued cross border supplies including

artillery from Iran (Dunn, 1995), and contact with the US. With the latter two countries’

encouragement, a 1974 Iraqi deadline to accept the peace agreement was defied by the hitherto

successful Peshmerga. When the 1975 Algiers agreement unexpectedly ended Iranian (and thus

also US and Israeli) support (Dunn, 1995), peshmerga resistance was overwhelmed, and 200,000

Kurds and Baranzi’s KDP faction fled into Iran. Another faction under Hashim Aqari accepted a

limited autonomy (Dunn, 1995) but the Iraqis continued Arabisation (O’Leary, 2002, p. 26), and

Talabani and his faction fled to Syria where they formed the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK)

(Marcus, 2007, p. 41). Gradually the PUK and KDP infiltrated back into Iraq and re-established

themselves in areas where the army was weak. In Syria, the wily Hafis al-Assad had become

president in 1970 and was co-opting rather than confronting his Kurdish minority. When in 1973

plans to resettle Kurds met violent resistance they were suspended (McDowall, 2007, p. 476) and

young Kurds were quietly recruited into the minority-staffed ‘Defence Brigades’

(Kurdmania.com, 2011).

The Iraqis quietly continued to back the now quite distinct KDP of Iran (KDP-I) against

the Shah, whilst Iranian Kurds generally joined the Iranian revolution, seizing eastern Kurdistan

as it succeeded. When the Iranian Kurds refused to allow the ‘Pasandran’ (revolutionary guards)

to take control clashes occurred. Ayatollah Khomeini declared them disloyal and called a jihad

against all opposing his government. Many Kurds were killed in the immediate fighting or

executed as counter revolutionaries before the government attempted to negotiate, still offering

only decentralised administration.

In 1970 Turkey deteriorated into large scale strikes, armed rightist attacks and leftists

robbing banks and kidnapping. Erbekan’s Islamic (National Order) party was formed, alarming

the military, and when radical parties were suppressed, many of its members joined guerrilla

campaigns. Against this instability the military used the threat of force to conduct a ‘coup by

memorandum’, replacing the government with a technocrat cabinet, imposing martial law,

disbanding all parties and suspending all political meetings and activity. Over the next two years


the constitution was again rewritten and a military crackdown pacified the country with popular

and clandestine support (Zürcher, 2004, p. 295). However elections in 1973 and 1977 again

generated ineffective minority governments taking extreme positions, parliamentarians (known

as deputies) switching sides and political deadlock (Gunter, 1989, p. 65). From 1975 onwards

there was growing conflict in schools and universities which gradually became no-go areas to the

authorities. Forty violent leftist groups battled with Islamist and right wing groups and many

thousands died. On top of this were lethal factional clashes; Sunnis against Alevi and Kurds

against Turk. Abroad Armenian terrorists struck diplomats and other soft Turkish targets. In

response the Army increased repression; and, in the east, imposed martial law against Kurdish

nationalism in 1976, destroying anything conducive to ethnic awareness and strengthening the

language ban. This only increased Kurdish consciousness, with many, especially frustrated

students, joining various revolutionary groups (Mango, 2004, p. 72). The economy was crippled

by strikes and mismanagement and with inflation at 90% and no hard currency to pay, essentials

were in short supply and oil for power and heating ran out. By the late 1970’s there were 20

murders a day, the entire country was under martial law and approaching civil war, the Kurdish

areas were out of control and urban terrorism was rampant (Gunter, 1989, p. 71; Mango, 2005,

pp. 13, 17-18, 31,34, 78; Marcus, 2007, pp. 49-50; Morgado, 2006, p. 20; van Bruinessen, 1984,

p. 12).

Abdullah Öcalan was typical of those Kurds driven to rebel. A political science student

from a poor background he was arrested and jailed for being in a protest march, radicalised, and

on release began an activist career (Yüksel, 2007, p. 236). In 1974 he formed a Marxist group of

‘Kurdistan revolutionaries’ committed to socialist (rather than nationalist) objectives (Morgado,

2006, p. 50). To avoid past failures it was to be strongly and hierarchically led, recruited from

the working class and hostile to traditional social structures (Marcus, 2007, pp. 34-38). He began

a stepped programme of leader development, ideological development and military preparation

(Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 106) and founded the Kurdish Workers Party (PKK) at its first

congress in 1978. Öcalan insisted it would “fight and fight now”. It declared a Maoist Protracted

Popular Warfare (PPW) three-stage strategy, initially focussed on building popular support in

specified regions with selective ruthless violence and the acceptance of its own casualties

(Barkey & Fuller, 1998, p. 22; Gürbey, 1996, p. 23; Latif, 1999, p. 36; Marcus, 2007, pp. 1,46),

but with an unheralded Leninist agenda of destroying all political rivals. Initially it sought

support in areas of feudal subordination and gross inequality and carefully targeted hated

landowners, aghas and tribal chiefs, giving the peasants a stake in the PKK. Indiscriminate state

responses only increased support, and the PKK were not above killing potential supporters to get

the same effect. Local politics were carefully considered, using or creating blood feuds between

tribes (Özdağ, 2003, p. 11). They also killed members of rival groups and those who cooperated

with the state. By 1979 the PKK had killed 350, mostly other Kurds (Marcus, 2007, p. 44), and

Turkey Page 167

had been careful not to target the state (Latif, 1999, p. 19) until late in the decade when they

began to kill police and then officials. Preoccupied with left–right clashes, the security forces

gave little effective response at first (Özdağ, 2003, p. 11) until declaring a state of emergency in

the southeast in 1978. The subsequent military crackdown (Mango, 2005, p. 34) jailed 1800

PKK (Jongerden, 2007, p. 59) associates out of perhaps 2000 (Özdağ, 2003, p. 12) members and

supporters in jail and captured and turned a senior leader. The organisation began to fall apart

(Marcus, 2007, pp. 52-53) and in July 1979 Öcalan and the surviving leaders fled to Syria

(McDowall, 2007, p. 479). Here Öcalan met with the Democratic Front for Liberation of

Palestine (DFLP) who, encouraged by his commitment and by the KGB made arrangements to

start training the PKK. Members adopted Arab identities to allow the Syrians, whose support

was initially mainly tacit, plausible denial (Marcus, 2007, p. 59; Özdağ, 2003, p. 12).

The Early 1980’s: Iran-Iraq War, Turkish Coup and PKK Preparations

The early 1980’s saw a Turkish coup restore relative order whilst the conflicts of and

with neighbours provided the environment for the PKK to launch a guerrilla campaign.

In 1980 when Iranian Kurds refused ‘decentralised administration’, Khomeini launched

a major offensive that drove the rebels into the mountains, and began purging ‘traitorous’ Kurds

from state employment. Barzani’s still dependent KDP had switched sides to the Islamic

revolution and now joined in to help their Iranian hosts. The campaign of repression was

interrupted when Saddam Hussein (who was convinced the feuding Kurds were weak and

irrelevant) invaded Iran. With the pressure off and with major Iraqi support, KDP-I and Komala

regrouped and began operations that would tie up significant Iranian forces for the duration of the

war (Karsh, 2009, p. 71)59. By 1982 as the war turned against Saddam he reduced his forces in

the north allowing the Kurds to expand their hold: the KDP along the north of the Turkish-

Iranian border, and the PUK in the south, moving forces there from Syria (Marcus, 2007, p. 69).

In 1983 Iranian counter-offensives in Kurdistan exploited fanaticism, manpower and the local

assistance of KDP allies to overcome ideal defensive terrain and achieve the greatest Iranian

advances of war. Previously conciliatory on Kurds, Saddam was incensed and responded

brutally, ‘disappearing’ 8000 Barzani tribe males (Johns, 2006). The PUK had continued to

work with Saddam to help the Iranian KDP-I and now made a ceasefire deal with Saddam in

exchange for promises of autonomy (Borovali, 1987, p. 36).

The Syrians had long co-opted Kurds as smugglers (Tejel, 2009, pp. 67-68) and in 1980

and 1982 Kurdish and other regime-sponsored minority ‘Defence Brigades’ were used to

suppress troubles in Aleppo and the Muslim Brotherhood rising in Hamah. They were now

associated with regime repression. When Turkey disregarded Syrian objections to the Greater

59 Leading the now vengeful Iranians to seek other ways to respond including a program of assassinating Kurdish leaders in exile.


Anatolia Project (GAP) which would dam the Euphrates for hydroelectric power and irrigation

(M. E. Morris, 1997, p. 10); the latter saw scope to use support to the PKK as a lever and perhaps

as a way to redirect their own Kurdish nationalists (Brogan, 1990, pp. 296-297). 60

In 1980 Turkey had been in crisis with a deadlocked parliament (Gunter, 1989, p. 68)61

and evidence in arms caches of hostile neighbours fomenting insurgency (Morgado, 2006, p. 57).

To popular relief a military coup had ‘attempted to restore order and depoliticise a country riven

by ideological conflict’ (Gunter, 1989, p. 63). All political activity was suspended, 180,000

people including politicians were arrested, 42,000 people jailed and 25 hanged (Mango, 2004, p.

81; Marcus, 2007, p. 51). In 1982 a new more limiting and centralist constitution now banned

the division of Turkey, reference to ethnic identity, outlawed any activity harmful to national

unity and territorial integrity and again toughened the language ban (Marcus, 2007, pp. 83-85;

Yüksel, 2007, p. 222).

The military were unashamedly harsh in Turkish Kurdistan (Zehni, 2008, p. 11), where

they arrested thousands of suspected members and sympathizers. Those remotely associated

with PKK were often tortured, 2000 were jailed and 447 put on mass trial (Gunter, 1988, p. 395;

MERIP, 1984, p. 13). Soysal argues that the harsh treatment of separatist terrorists in south-

eastern prisons played an important part in transforming sporadic subversive activities into a full-

scale and ruthlessly violent terrorism (Soysal, 1999, p. 16); ‘their resistance earned respect from

other Kurdish organisations’ (Özdağ, 2003, p. 13). A few PKK hid in the mountains

occasionally carrying out a minor raid but in the course of 1981, the last groups withdrew to

Syria, Iran (van Bruinessen, 1988, p. 44) and northern Iraq. When PKK insurgents from here

carried out an ambush in Turkey the response was a raid across the border (Gunter, 1988, p. 396).

The extent and ferocity of the repression collapsed the remaining Kurdish opposition, thus

ironically clearing the way for the PKK (Kutschera, 1994, p. 13).

The result of military rule was that violence dropped by 90% (UNHCR, 2005, p. 16) and

the economy recovered: the generals prepared to hand back power. To make a new start all

existing parties were dissolved and their leaders excluded. In a 3-party election in 1983 Özal’s

liberal-conservative Motherland Party (ANAP) won, bringing in unconstrained economic

liberalisation that allowed both the economy and corruption to flourish (Marcus, 2007, pp. 83-

84). Özal defied the military with a liberal cultural and economic approach to the Kurds,

encouraging pro-Kurdish parties to influence the PKK and repealing the ban on language, whilst

however continuing military repression (Gürbey, 1996, pp. 14-15; Marcus, 2007, p. 103).

In Syria, in the niche left by the PUK, who had now relocated to Iran, the battered

survivors who had escaped Turkey began to re-establish the PKK. In 1980 in Syrian-controlled

60 The PKK also cooperatively took the line that all Kurds there were refugees from Turkey, which meshed with Syrian policy (McDowall, 2007, p. 480). 61 In addition there was a sense of threat after the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan.

Turkey Page 169

Lebanon the first group of 40-50 began training with the DFLP and by 1982, 300 had graduated.

When the Israelis invaded in June the PKK joined the in the fight, gaining experience and kudos,

after which other Palestinian groups began providing training too (Jongerden & Hamidi Akkaya,

2010, p. 130; Mango, 2005, p. 36; Marcus, 2007, pp. 56-58; Ozoglu, 1993, p. 67). The Syrians

had been irritated by the post-1980 complete PKK withdrawal from Turkey (Mango, 2005, p. 36)

and to reassure them and seeing the unique opportunity provided by Iraqi loss of control of its

north, the 2nd PKK Congress formally decided to begin the armed insurrection (Özdağ &

Aydinli, 2003, p. 107).

With persuasion from Syria (Özdağ, 2003, p. 15) the KDP reached an accord allowing

the PKK to operate in its area and locate in its bases (Gunter, 1996, p. 51) and began to move

trained fighters out of Syria and Syrian control into northern Iraq, building camps in the remote

and inhospitable Lohan triangle on the intersection of three borders. The cooperation between

KDP and PKK caused the Iraqis, already engaged in ‘arabisation’ and the systematic destruction

of its own Kurd villages, to work with the Turks. The Iraqis gave permission for cross border

pursuit and in May 1983 a 7000 man incursion by the Turks against ‘PKK’ camps was

coordinated with Iraqi operations against the KDP. This in turn led to Iranian help for the PKK,

particularly their flying insurgents to Iran to infiltrate via northern Iraq to Turkey. Up to 200

insurgents operating in small teams62 moving cautiously and by night began reconnaissance

within Turkey. They chose camps, routes and targets for their coming campaign as well as

gathering information for their Iranian and Syrian sponsors. Their limited contacts with the

locals, who generally ignored them, ‘discovered people afraid and hopeless but also receptive to

revenge attacks’.

By 1984 the PKK was poised and ready with ‘dozens of members’ ensconced inside

Turkey and perhaps 400 in Iraq (Jongerden & Hamidi Akkaya, 2010, p. 130; Marcus, 2007, pp.

69, 78, 79; Özdağ, 2003, pp. 15, 17).

Motives for ‘Stirring up Your Neighbours Kurds’

Before examining the insurgency it is important to understand the motives for Turkey’s

neighbours to variously provide the support to the PKK that Özdağ (2003, pp. 1, 15)

characterises the ‘proxy war’ by a secret coalition between Syria and Iran that made the

insurgency possible. Greece fears and resents Turkey and has longstanding disputes over Cyprus

and Aegean resources so supported the PKK both covertly and as overtly as maintaining a facade

of harmony within NATO would allow (Ergil, 2007, p. 331). Iran, Iraq, Syria and the USSR

shared an interest in keeping their own Kurdish populations under control and even Kurdish

autonomy in a neighbouring country might represent a destabilising example. Yet the scope for

62 Jongerden (2010, p. 131) says 3-5, strong others give 7-9 in size (Özdağ, 2003, p. 17)


opportunistically manipulating the Kurds ‘next-door’ during disputes proved irresistible. All of

the many Kurdish rebel groups have at some time been supported externally and all of Turkey’s

‘fault-line’ neighbours at times have provided succour to the PKK (Morgado, 2006, p. 24).

Soviet support can be understood as an ideological wish to support socialist revolutionaries, but

more practically as a way to tie up the manpower of NATO’s second largest army. The Iranians

have a longstanding wish to constrain the Turkish influence in the Trans-Caucuses. More

recently, since the revolution, they wished to limit perceived ‘western’ cultural influences and

counter it with a revolutionary Shia message (B. Lewis, 2002, p. xv), however they were

probably more practically focussed on their belief that Turkey funded the anti-regime Mojahedin-

e-Khalq (MEK). They also sought to use the PKK to constrain the Kurdish KDP-I (Latif, 1999,

p. 199), but the strongest motivator for Iranian help was perhaps that the PKK was allied with

Saddam’s enemy the KDP.

Syria has had several strong reasons to manipulate Turkey. It wants to curtail its

growing power and resents the 1939 annexation of the former Province of Alexandretta, but

critically the Euphrates is Syria’s main source of drinking, irrigation and industrial water yet its

headwaters are in Turkey (Özdağ, 2003, p. 16). The early 80’s saw the start of the GAP

construction to dam the river with a loss of 40% of downstream flow and increased

contamination (M. E. Morris, 1997, p. 9). Syria also believed that Turkey was sheltering its

Muslim brotherhood enemies (Marcus, 2007, p. 60). Since Turkey is many times stronger than

Syria and allied with the US, direct confrontation would be suicidal. Indirect or proxy leverage

makes sense (Marcus, 2007, p. 60) as theoretical modelling of support of the PKK in this water

conflict suggests (Güner, 1997, p. 113). The Turkish alliance with Israel after 1996 would be a

further threat intended to strategically contain Syria (McDowall, 2007, p. 480), which only

strengthened Syria’s need for levers. Although Iraq has similar water dependency on Turkey, the

two countries long shared both similar secular perspectives and a serious Kurdish insurgency, so

would generally cooperate (Morgado, 2006, p. 25) until eventually the 1990 Kuwait invasion

changed the relationship.

6.2 THE INSURGENCY DESCRIBED

VTFS divides the conflict into the following four phases:

Phase I: “Initial Insurgency” (1984–1986)

Phase II: “Repression and Resettlement” (1987–1989)

Phase III: “Insurgency Grows in Popularity” (1990–1993)

Phase IV: “Triumph of the Big Stick” (1993–1999)

The following account divides the phases into years as units of analysis, except for

an adjustment in 1993 to account for a ceasefire and other factors explained later.

Turkey Page 171

The description of the insurgency that follows refers to places in South-eastern Turkey.

The map below at Figure 27 identifies their locations and also shows the operating areas of the

main Kurdish insurgent groups and their positions astride various borders.

Figure 27: Map of 'Kurdish' Places and Kurdish Insurgent Group Areas – Source Institut Kurde Paris

6.2.1 Phase I: “Initial Insurgency” (1984–1986)

Overview

The PKK launched their insurgency with clandestine support from Syria, whilst the Iran-

Iraq war provided bases and resources in border areas. Initially PKK attacks were not considered

a serious threat by the military and whilst strikes against the ‘Turkish oppressors’ and their local

agents were often admired and supported by some Kurds most were reluctant to be involved. To


overcome the problem the PKK began to coerce supplies and ‘conscript’ recruits, killing those

who refused or ran away. This was deeply unpopular but did co-opt many families. Once the

Government recognised the threat they moved a large army force to the southeast. Unprepared

for counterinsurgency warfare, they worked in large clumsy groups, but with few restrictions

under martial law, did inflict damage on any inexperienced PKK who allowed themselves to be

decisively engaged. The government also reintroduced a village guard system to arm the

population, which tapped into tribal structures and existing feuds to polarise communities.

1984

In preparation for the beginning of the PKK military campaign, insurgents who had

trained in Syrian and Lebanese camps travelled to camps in northern Iraq (Gunter, 1996, p. 51)

from where they infiltrated on foot into the area of operations. On August 15th 1984 there were

two largely symbolic actions, explicitly intended to win support and demonstrate alternative

authority at the beginning of a phase that was to ‘weaken (the) state and disrupt (its) ability to

provide services’ (Yüksel, 2007, p. 238). In each of two towns in different provinces a group of

20 to 30 PKK insurgents took up positions to engage and isolate the Jandarma63 (Gendarmerie)

guardhouse and secure the central square, before summoning the people to hear a formal

announcement that the ‘Kurdistan Liberation Unit’ (HRK)64 was declaring war. The insurgents

then withdrew leaving a few soldiers dead. Several locals volunteered to join HRK and went

with them into the mountains. Though Turkish intelligence had known of PKK activity, the

switch to ‘guerrilla warfare’ was a surprise. Troops including elite commandos were deployed

into the area, but they were unable to locate the elusive small groups, totalling no more than 200

who were moving only at night.

In October, the President toured the area in a show of strength and the PKK mounted

attacks killing three soldiers and eight more shortly after. When the PKK melted away after

attacks, angry troops increasingly began seizing people living nearby and violently questioning

them. The local peasants, who had ignored or even helped the PKK up to this point became

more hostile to the insurgents: according to Turkish sources because of fear of further harsher

response. Locals provided information about the PKK and even captured some insurgents

enabling the army to mount successful operations, kill many and force most of the remainder to

withdraw to Iraq to ‘start again’ (Marcus, 2007, pp. 80-82; Özdağ, 2003, p. 21; Özdağ &

Aydinli, 2003, p. 108; Zehni, 2008, p. 22). A Turkish Air Force (TAF) air raid against ‘PKK’

camps and more cross border raids killed KDP fighters. This initially increased solidarity, but

63 The Jandarma are paramilitary police with formal responsibility for borders and the 92% area outside of municipal boundaries (a National police responsibility). They are technically under the interior ministry in peace but in practice are commanded as a branch of the military on operations, with consequently weaker lines of accountability (McGregor, 2008). 64 A title deliberately without Marxist overtones

Turkey Page 173

PKK ‘guests’ became increasingly unwelcome and were moved out of KDP camps. In Turkey

there was a further crack-down on Kurdish organisations and arrest of suspected sympathisers.

The jailing of many uninvolved Kurds would prove counterproductive, as the crowded prisons

favoured recruitment by the well organised PKK. On the political front, a new pro-Kurd party,

HADEP was formed in anticipation of the current HEP being banned by the constitutional court

(Kirişci & Winrow, 1997, p. 138; Marcus, 2007, pp. 104, 113; O’Leary, 2002, p. 26).

1985

1985 was marked by brutal PKK assertion of internal control, tensions with the KDP and

the introduction of the ‘village guard’ system. Syria, pleased with the disruption in Turkey

discreetly expanded ties and support (Marcus, 2007, p. 99). In Iraq, Saddam broke with the

PUK, briefly unifying the Kurdish insurgents against him with Iranian support (Dunn, 1995;

Lortz, 2005, p. 55), but relationships became strained when the PKK attacked Iraqi communist

party allies of the KDP and the latter denounced the killing of civilians as terrorism (Gunter,

1996, p. 51; Marcus, 2007, p. 105).

In the face of reverses, some senior PKK members questioned the strategy and launched

an opposition faction. Öcalan’s ruthless approach, iron grip and personal control became

increasingly evident as he lethally asserted authority. Even a PKK member who had fled to

Sweden after challenging Öcalan was tracked down and killed, one of at least eleven senior

members killed since 1983 to crush dissent. Over the years hundreds more would die for failing

to show total loyalty and obedience (Ergil, 2007, p. 330; Marcus, 2007, pp. 94-96; Özdağ, 2003,

p. 23). A PKK spring offensive in March saw three larger attacks fail; partly due to lack of local

popular support (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 109). To remedy this they created a new

organisation, the ERNK, to conduct military operations in Europe and the cities of the west

(Latif, 1999, p. 23) as well as recruit, provide intelligence and generate propaganda (Barkey &

Fuller, 1998, p. 22; Morgado, 2006, p. 42; Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 109). It would become a

‘political urban militia’ after the PKK created the Kurdistan Liberation Army (ARGK) as the

‘army of the southeast’. By concentrating on small scale hit and run operations the insurgents

claimed between June and November to have wiped out four entire platoons as well as fifty other

soldiers in various smaller attacks, ten policemen and ten ‘identified traitors’ (Romano et al.,

2006, p. 85). However the platoon claims seem extravagant and the PKK certainly admitted to

suffering heavy losses again (Özdağ, 2003, p. 23). In response to the attacks the Turkish military

moved five Divisions to bases in the southeast to impose martial law, seal the border and

establish outposts near mountain villages (Marcus, 2007, p. 98). They mounted ponderous, if

potent, daytime ‘search and destroy’ operations following PKK attacks. Insurgents caught within

their cordons were killed, but generally the lack of communications equipment and poor

coordination made army efforts ineffective (Zürcher, 2004, p. 317). The effect was to push the


PKK bases further away from roads and settlements (van Etten, Jongerden, de Vos, Klaasse, &

van Hoeve, 2008, p. 1789).

The major change was the introduction of the ‘Korucu’65 or Village Guard system; a

War of Independence approach that paid a small number of men in each village to provide its

security. It was intended to deny the PKK freedom of action and address the tactical and

manpower problem of protecting the populace (Yüksel, 2007, p. 222; Zehni, 2008, p. 22).

Initially voluntary and well paid, although salaries did not rise with inflation, the force rose to

16,000 by 1989 (CORI, 2011, p. 9; Zehni, 2008, p. 22). The system very deliberately exploited

and reinforced the feudal tribal structure: payment was via the village chief who also influenced

selection of candidates. This effectively provided chiefs a private army and a power base, with

great opportunities for abuse. Authorised and paid to shoot to kill they assumed sole authority

(Ergil, 2007, p. 339) and the impunity of action inherited from the military gave great scope for

extortion and other crime. In time, ‘village guards became known for their role in drug and arms

trafficking, summary executions, enforced disappearances, sexual assaults and seizure of lands

and homes of displaced villagers. A striking tactic employed by village guards was to disguise

themselves as PKK militants which would enable them to shift the blame onto the PKK’ (CORI,

2011, pp. 2, 8, 10). The system also shifted the primary economic activity in the region from

pastoralism and farming to state employment, creating a vested interest in continuing conflict

(Bozarsalan, 2000, p. 24; Latif, 1999, p. 74).

As intended, the system did quickly polarise the community, with most guards coming

from tribes whose leaders were threatened by the PKK’s influence (Ozoglu, 1993, p. 71).

Despite the Korucu being ill-armed and ill-trained and easy prey for the PKK (Özdağ & Aydinli,

2003, p. 108), the system still fundamentally threatened their strategy of developing popular

support and would become a main target. Some began to leave their villages, but at this stage

this was ‘voluntary’ in the sense that the people left because of general brutalisation of the

population or because their pastures were now forbidden areas or mined rather than because of

more specific coercion (van Bruinessen, 1995, pp. 7, 35). Later, the Korucu system would

become half of a classic ‘carrot and stick’66 (Bozarsalan, 2000, p. 24) approach to control, forcing

the population to side with the state.

1986

In 1986 the Iraqis suffered serious defeats at the hands of the Iranians, giving the

insurgents free reign in northern Iraq until the KDP demanded that the PKK leave their area. The

latter approached the PUK and shifted some camps, now using the Iranian border routes to

65 In Turkish; Geçici ve Gönüllü Köy Korucuları -Temporary and Voluntary Village Guards 66 The carrots were political, social power and economic power and the stick, that would over time be increasingly viciously wielded, was violent punishment for not joining.

Turkey Page 175

infiltrate Turkey (Dunn, 1995; Marcus, 2007, p. 123; Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 107). A bold

attack on a Jandarma (Gendarmerie) unit that killed 12 was followed by a TAF raid on camps in

Iraq (Gunter, 1988, p. 396). The PKK maintained a constant low rate of attacks and the Turkish

military correctly assessed that it remained a small organisation of a few hundred strong. The

pressure on the PKK eased as rising tensions between Turkey and Greece over Cyprus took

military attention and two of the key Commando Brigades were moved back to the west coast

(Morgado, 2006, p. 57; Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 107).

In October the PKK held its third congress in Latika in the Bekkaa valley where it

‘acknowledged that popular support remained weak despite the efforts of the HRK and ERNK

and that brutality played a role in this’ 67(Stein, 1994, p. 27). The congress resolved to establish

the ARGK, a distinct military wing to replace the HRK, intensify urban political activity in the

west and extend military operations, especially against state infrastructure and the Korucu

(Gürbey, 1996, p. 23). More significantly it passed ‘laws’ to permit it to impose taxation and

conscription of males in controlled regions. This would both gain resources and directly and

decisively show state-like authority. Öcalan also continued to reinforce his personal power by

publicly accusing his major leaders of tactical errors, so shutting down potentially critical debate;

50 opponents would be executed (Marcus, 2007, p. 116; Özdağ, 2003, p. 24). The conscription 68of youths to the PKK was not popular but was effective in making parents vulnerable to their

demands and assuring supplies of food. Recruitment of a member tended to commit the family

to the insurgent cause, perhaps morally but mostly because the security forces would now label

the family ‘PKK’ and harass them or worse. When conscripted sons were killed bitterness turned

into real support (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 109; Zehni, 2008, p. 23). As news of PKK exploits

grew and was matched by increasing harassment of Kurds, recruitment in western provinces

organised by infiltrated ERNK activists was increasingly successful. This provided better

educated recruits who, unlike rural youth, were ready to question and challenge. The best were

selected to go to the camps in the Lebanon, where political instructors could cope, but those who

took differing opinions to the mountain camps confronted uneducated leaders and risked

generating suspicion or even potentially lethal doubts about their loyalty (Marcus, 2007, p. 133).

Safety lay in lavish adherence to Öcalan’s dogma.

Repression and Support in Phase I

In the first phase Turkish repression was, by its own historical standards, quite restrained.

The approach was still ‘Counter Terrorism’ not69 ‘Counter Insurgency’ (Morgado, 2006, p. 57).

67 Authors translation 68 As the ARGK evolved, conscripts and volunteers would be taken for three or four months initial training in the Cudi mountains, of which perhaps 45 days was military training and the rest indoctrination (Latif, 1999). 69 i.e. focused on the enemy not the population


Under martial law provisions the military were free to apply an aggressive and lethal response to

any actual or perceived threat. Operating from larger bases and in larger groups, they were often

quite successful in rare encounters with still-inexperienced insurgents who apart from occasional

and often unsuccessful ‘spectaculars’ concentrated on other more vulnerable targets such as

isolated Jandarma posts. Harassment and beating of citizens on the basis of inference of support

did occur, as would torture of PKK suspects. However the PKK were not yet perceived as a

major ‘military’ challenge to the state and for most of the phase, in the rural areas where most

interactions occurred, state violence was still often relatively discriminate in intention if not effect

and the level and spread of the triggering attacks was limited. It should be noted that the massive

nationwide military repression after the 1980 coup (but before this phase) had been perceived as

generally (far more) indiscriminate in character and had generated much of the initial PKK

support described by Barkey and Fuller (1998, p. 22) that built the organisation in Syria in 1981-

1983.

The PKK was at first not very successful in winning popular support. Whilst the simple

fact of continuing to fight won sympathy or admiration and successful attacks were followed by

recruits volunteering (Marcus, 2007, p. 98) the PKK certainly did not have the practical support

of most people, rather it relied on a small minority, many of whom were coerced (Durna &

Hancerli, 2007, p. 328) The majority, ‘still able to sit on the fence, neither supported nor

resisted’. And it seems that after harsh government political response to the 1984 attacks, whilst

there were subsequent increases in recruitment from a low base rate, initially popular opposition

to the PKK ‘troublemakers’ also surged, with the evidence being spontaneous localised actions

against the PKK and especially the provision of intelligence 70 (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 109).

Öcalan himself would lament that other guerrilla armies had raised 10,000 in two years and he

had not even doubled his force (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 109). Popular ‘preferences’ may well

have been against the PKK, but it was maintaining numbers in the face of losses and arrests,

indicating that active support was at worst steady, even if some of that was effectively coerced.

6.2.2 Phase II: “Repression and Resettlement” (1987–1989)

Overview

The second phase was marked by the Turkish government ending martial law and

making new arrangements to deal with the insurgency in the southeast that provided for a new

‘super-governor’ with wide powers and the replacement of the army with the Jandarma. The

latter were much more defensively minded; constructing bases intended to assert control and

beginning what at this stage was an unofficial programme of clearing the population from

villages that they could not control. Turkish brutality in doing this and reprisals after PKK

70 The latter part of this interpretation comes from Turkish sources, which can probably be trusted since they contrast these behaviours with an increase in support that followed.

Turkey Page 177

attacks began to generate support for the PKK. That organisation began, equally brutally and

more systematically, to attack the Korucu system by killing the entire families of members as

well as undermining the authority of the state by destroying its infrastructure and killing its

agents such as teachers (Zehni, 2008, p. 24). At the same time the PKK tried to appear ‘harsh but

fair’, offering ‘amnesty’ and eventually winding back their unpopular ‘conscription’. Öcalan

showed himself to be equally ruthless in exerting tight, personal control of the organisation whilst

the end of the Iran-Iraq war brought a pogrom against the Iraqi Kurds and a resultant PKK haven

in their deserted lands as well as support for them from Saddam. An informal understanding

developed between Greece, Syria and Iran to support the PKK to pressure Turkey (Mango, 2005,

p. 37).

1987

Iraq again suffered major defeats in 1987 at the hands of the Iranians, assisted by the

PUK and KDP who had formed a united front (Dunn, 1995). Saddam saw this as utter treachery

and struck back hard with exemplary brutality 71. His use of chemical weapons is infamous, but

perhaps more than a hundred thousand civilians were killed conventionally and thousands of

villages were destroyed 72. TAF bombing continued to kill Iraqi Kurds. By the end of the year

the KDP repositioned itself as anti-PKK and formally renounced its ‘aggression and terrorism’

(Gunter, 1996, p. 51; Marcus, 2007, p. 104). This led to unofficial contacts between the PKK

and the Iraqis, who left the PKK alone in return for information on the KDP (Marcus, 2007, pp.

99-100). Ironically the PKK had also received permission to establish camps in Iranian territory,

secure from Turkish attack, conditional on not attacking from there (Marcus, 2007, p. 120).

Meanwhile in return for guarantees of Euphrates water Syria agreed with Turkey to bar attacks

from its territory, but honoured this by simply insisting the PKK did not cross its border to attack,

and quietly looking the other way (Latif, 1999, p. 193). Support and recruitment for the PKK

from Syrian Kurds was now increasing, which diverted pressure from their domestic aspirations

(Marcus, 2007, pp. 99-100). With Turkey stricken by inflation the Motherland party applied to

join the EU, whose demand for human rights reforms as a condition of closer association would

prove one of the few checks to the Turkish polity’s inclination to favour ever-greater repression.

At the same time the tough but pragmatic architect of the Kurucu, Özal became prime minister

again and began to develop concepts of ‘clearances’ (Mango, 2004, p. 88; Pope, 1993).

The resolutions of their 3rd congress began to take effect as the PKK ‘targeted official

infrastructures to undermine the Turkish state’s authority, demonstrate its inability to protect its

citizens, especially Kurds, and create a favourable environment for its cause’ (Zehni, 2008, p.

24). The focus was a concerted attack on the Korucu system. Agahs, the guards, their families,

71 In Sulyamaiah, 500 boys were tortured before being killed 72 Some sources suggest 180,000


even vehicles going to villages with militias were now targets (Marcus, 2007, pp. 116-117).

With a typical strength of half a dozen and with unreliable communications and back-up forces a

long time away, the Korucu were highly vulnerable (Romano et al., 2006, p. 86). In June during

a raid on the village of Pinarcik they (unsurprisingly) refused to surrender and the PKK then

killed 30 people including 16 women and 8 children. This and similar ‘terrorist’ killing of

civilians caused a media frenzy that ‘fired up’ an already hostile mainstream Turkish public

opinion, but in the southeast only served to intimidate Korucu and polarise opinion. Öcalan

openly declared the PKK was ‘killing to become the authority’ (CORI, 2011, p. 7; Mango, 2005,

p. 38; Zehni, 2008, pp. 23-24). It was rational PKK policy that villagers should only be killed in

villages that had sided with the state, elsewhere the PKK typically only questioned the people

and took food and increasingly reluctant ‘conscripts’ (Marcus, 2007, pp. 116-117). Their other

targets were those working for the state, and from the strangling of one in November, this clearly

included teachers as ‘agents of Turkish linguistic assimilation’ (Mango, 2005, p. 39). The

Turkish media’s portrayal of ‘indiscriminate attacks against children’ certainly shifted

mainstream opinion forcefully against the PKK (Marcus, 2007, pp. 116-117) but, as intended,

also generated sufficient fear to inhibit cooperation with the authorities. The execution was

intended to convey to the locals that PKK killing was predictable, only striking collaborators and

their families73, (Romano et al., 2006, p. 86) compared to the increasingly indiscriminate actions

of the military. A ‘rational peasant’ would thus side with the more predictable of two coercers.

A complication is that clearly the PKK did not always adhere to their policy and that, as has

become increasingly evident over the intervening years, agents of the state carried out attacks

intended to be attributed to the PKK. Whatever the truth, it seems that many Kurds were inclined

to disbelieve Turkish accounts, and this was reinforced as the PKK began providing food and

medical care to villagers.

In July reflecting ‘democratisation’, martial law was ended and replaced with new ‘aid-

to-the-civil-power arrangements, echoing the Malayan campaign. The southeast was nominated

as an emergency rule region (OHAL) run by a super-governor with extraordinary powers, able to

impose censorship, prohibit all protest and evacuate villages and relocate their populations

(Gürbey, 1996, p. 16). This latter power would prove significant. Many Turks believed,

correctly, that “this tactic degraded the terrorists’ logistical resources and curbed their ability to

conduct propaganda and recruitment activities.” (Zehni, 2008, p. 28) but were, and often

remain, blind to the other effects. Presumably they were hostile to those disloyal to the state and

indifferent to those loyal but without choices. Whatever the perspective, the increasing brutality

of the evacuations and the gross inadequacy of arrangements for those relocated would prove

73 Punishing families for the sins of members is a brutal reality of the feuds of many tribal societies within which it may be no more inherently unjust than say, ‘honour killings’.

Turkey Page 179

highly counterproductive, generating anger that translated to active support and increasing

international sympathy for the Kurds.

Critically, as part of the new security arrangements, the Jandarma74, which had little

combat capacity, was given the responsibility for the fight with the PKK and the army pulled out

or sent back to barracks (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 110). The army could now only provide

support on a case by case request basis in the context of political pressure to downplay the PKK

threat (Özdağ, 2003, p. 26). The changeover created a local hiatus in command and control and

there was a shift from the army approach of larger scale operations and aggressive tactical

responses (which tended to inflict casualties when the PKK could be engaged decisively) to a

Jandarma dispersed-force local-defence mentality. Commanders now withdrew from vulnerable

stations, did not operate at night and effectively abandoned smaller villages, allowing the PKK to

attack more frequently (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 110). Özdağ (2003, pp. 27, 28) attributes a

subsequent PKK recovery to this shift, and certainly the PKK’s 200 or so insurgents in the area

south of lake Van were able to operate fairly freely by the end of the year and as they did this the

flow of information from the population to the state dried up. The government did however

improve the salaries, clothing and vitally, radios of the Korucu (Marcus, 2007, pp. 116-117).

1988

The final year of the Iran-Iraq war saw the PUK fighting alongside the Iranians at

Halbaja suffer chemical attacks (Dunn, 1995). As the Kurds fled northern Iraq the PKK had

greater freedom of action, increased further when the Iraqis gave them permission to establish

camps there (Marcus, 2007, p. 123). As the threat posed by Saddam grew the PUK, KDP and six

other Kurdish groups formed the Iraqi Kurdistan Front (IKF) (Gunter, 1996, p. 52). In August

the war ended and Saddam took his revenge on the Kurds in the ‘al-Anfal’ (the spoils) campaign

of mass roundups, executions and relocations. At least 200,000 were killed, 1.5 million forced

out of their homes and into collective towns and 1200 villages destroyed (O’Leary, 2002, p. 18).

Huge numbers fled across Iraq’s borders, with the presence of refugees compounding the

security problem for Turkey who gave shelter to fleeing KDP fighters. In response the Iraqis

began to support the PKK and the deserted border areas became a haven for them (Özdağ &

Aydinli, 2003, p. 110). The refugee crisis also brought NGO’s into the border area, bringing

unwanted observers of the Turkish military.

The security forces continued to use a defensive and reactive strategy, with the army

deployed to posts to observe key routes, provide convoy escorts or concentrated in large bases to

dominate nearby urban areas. For example, Dersim/Tuncelli had a garrison Brigade of 2,000

74 The Jandarma has formal responsibility for borders and the 92% area outside of municipal boundaries (a police responsibility) which is technically under the interior ministry in peace but in practice is commanded as a branch of the military (McGregor, 2008).


troops plus 300 Commandos (Koivunen, 2002, pp. 99,193). The towns were therefore kept in a

state of oppressive siege that kept resentment simmering. From the fortified bases army troops

would sweep out in force in response to PKK attacks, but rarely operated pro-actively or guided

by intelligence. To try to secure the border, a depopulated zone was created and in adjacent areas

a systematic programme of resettlement into central villages began (van Bruinessen, 1988, p. 46).

With the army reactive and the Jandarma keeping to roads and settled areas, the PKK had

increasing freedom of action, continued to ambush security forces and raid villages and

guardhouses but increased attacks on the infrastructure of the state. Factories and transport were

sabotaged, clinics destroyed and a special effort was made to close schools, killing teachers and

burning the buildings (Mango, 2005, p. 38; Marcus, 2007, p. 117; Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p.

110). These actions drew severe criticism within the wider Kurd community. Öcalan

recalibrated the message and called the killing of civilians a mistake and blamed renegade local

commanders (Marcus, 2007, p. 118; Zürcher, 2004, p. 317).

At the national level political options continued to be closed to the Kurds. A Turkish

deputy who highlighted the Kurd problem caused outrage and was unable to speak in parliament

again (Marcus, 2007, p. 125). Events like this reinforced the PKK argument that violence was

the only way to achieve change and Kurds began increasingly to be firmly neutral or support the

PKK and recruiting began to pick up (Özdağ, 2003, p. 34)

1989

In the aftermath of the Iran-Iraq war weapons were plentiful and cheap, allowing the

PKK to restock its caches (Mango, 2005, p. 39) and PKK clashes with the PUK caused Öcalan to

cancel their agreement (Marcus, 2007, p. 123). Iran had previously been used as an infiltration

route from bases in northern Iraq, but the Iranians now allowed the PKK to infiltrate directly and

begin to establish 20 bases and an office which opened the next year (Mango, 2005, p. 37).

As a sign that PKK terror tactics were beginning to bite, the state found it increasingly

difficult to get teachers to work in the south eastern provinces and so began using soldiers as

teachers. With schools often having the best facilities in an area they were often used by the

military and these two factors only reinforced the PKK argument for attacking schools (Marcus,

2007, p. 118). Other infrastructure, including bridges, railway lines and industrial plants now

began to be struck as well as a coal mine and oil tankers. The PKK continued to attack villages,

but were increasingly careful to avoid killing women and children. In the mountains they now

owned the night, coming out to set up road blocks and seize state supporters. They became

skilled at executing ambushes against military movements and small scale raids on isolated

border posts to kill one or two troops and vanish. The Turks responded by deploying individual

tanks and even artillery to help defend Janadarma posts which were now being increasingly

harassed by snipers. The frustrated conscript soldiers ordered to follow up after attacks that

Turkey Page 181

killed their colleagues needed little encouragement from aggressive junior commanders to exact

reprisals on the ‘traitors’ in non-Kurucu villages.

Internally, Öcalan’s ruthless style of maintaining control with internal repression led to

increasing executions of ‘intellectual’ PKK members for disloyalty and a spreading atmosphere

of hysterical suspicion, especially in Syria. Öcalan ordered an ‘investigation’ but purges

continued, with those who posed challenges but were obviously above reproach being sent on

risky missions (Marcus, 2007, p. 137). This probably distorted the quality of information

reaching Öcalan and inhibited the adaption of PKK strategy. Political options continued to be

blocked, and when Kurdish members of the centre-left SHP attending a Kurdish conference in

Paris they were ousted from the party (Gürbey, 1996, p. 26). However Özal now became

president, and as the instigator of the Korucu scheme was hardly ‘liberal’, but would be prove

more open to new approaches than his predecessors.

Repression and Support in Phase II

Early in this phase there was a shift in the character of the slowly increasing overall level

of repression. The army’s locally proactive, less predictable and tactically aggressive approach

with the freedom of action given by martial law changed into a more systematic defensive

approach by the Jandarma, relying on the construction of fortified posts and other protective

methods including developing the Korucu. The general ‘level’ of repression probably did not

change much because of these tactical shifts, but a localised form did accelerate as the first

village clearances occurred.

As indicated by the VTFS analysis, internal support for the PKK appeared to reduce, or

at least grow less fast, as suggested by negative reaction to their conscription and the fact that the

insurgents were unable to increase force size much (as Öcalan complained) but it was still

sufficient to keep recruitment above replacement levels, which is not a net drop. Significant

recruitment into the Korucu in the period before coercion was severe and widespread is a more

ambiguous indicator as this ‘take up’ may also have been due to tribal opportunism rather than

general anti-PKK sentiment.

It seems likely that recruitment for the PKK increased rather than decreased in those

areas that were evacuated. This is possibly but not necessarily evidence of repression increasing

support, since we must allow that the villages selected for evacuation were often already those

assumed to be pro-PKK. Similarly because the PKK consciously combined recruitment

processes with attacks, correlations of recruitment with attack events may be a distorted indicator

of popular support.


6.2.3 Phase III: “Insurgency Grows in Popularity” (1990–1993)

Overview

In the third phase the PKK gained increased support from the Syrians and the Greeks,

whilst the build up to and aftermath of the 1991 Gulf War would first distract the Turkish army

and then lead to a US protected enclave in northern Iraq that would inadvertently again create a

haven for the PKK. A Turkish army attempt to strike the PKK there failed as a result of factional

fighting between Iraqi Kurdish groups. The Turkish security forces proved unable to find and

defeat the PKK in the mountains so focussed on the ‘disloyal’ Kurds they could find: in the

mountains those who did not join the Korucu and in the cities those who identified as Kurds.

Attacks in the southeast would lead to indiscriminate bombardment of the area and beatings,

torture or killing of those found nearby and evacuation of their villages. In the west a programme

of clandestine and covert killings began to eliminate those with possible separatist sympathies.

All this had the effect of driving increased support for the PKK, underpinning massive

demonstrations, large numbers of recruits and ‘defection’ from the Korucu. Indications that the

Turkish president was open to political options underpinned a ceasefire at the end of the phase.

1990

In January Turkey reduced the flow of the Euphrates to a trickle to fill Ataturk dam, (M.

E. Morris, 1997, p. 10) exacerbating tensions with Syria which was now inclined to find a way to

strike back. However, the following month the Communists in the USSR agreed to yield their

monopoly of power, and it was clear to Syria that its ally’s power was on the wane and caution

was essential. Similarly, tensions in the Aegean had led to Greek toleration of a PKK presence

and there were now four apartments there for propaganda and political training (Marcus, 2007, p.

156). In August, Iraq invaded Kuwait and President Özal led Turkey to support the coalition

response (Mango, 2004, p. 91) leading to a redeployment of much of the Turkish army which

gave the PKK more freedom of action in the border areas. The attendant diversion of media

attention served the government well. Basic civil rights in the OHAL region were suspended and

some areas closed to journalists in anticipation of major military operations (Gürbey, 1996, p.

15).

At this stage the behaviour of the military began to result in ‘alienation and recruiting to

the PKK’ (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 111). Both Army and Jandarma were mostly staffed by

conscripts on a cycle of about four months training and a years’ service in the southeast (Turkey -

Defense Spending 1995). Although Turkish soldiers are tough and subject to rigid internal

discipline, member turnover and a lack of relevant training meant that units were often ill

prepared and could not build up collective experience. They would rarely deploy or seek to fight

at night, which was when the PKK moved and set up checkpoints or conducted raids.

Turkey Page 183

Increasingly the PKK attacked isolated soldiers and bases, forcing withdrawal from the most

vulnerable (Marcus, 2007, p. 169). Unable to find or maintain contact with the elusive PKK

insurgents across rugged forested terrain, the military turned their attention to the Kurds they

could find: those they suspected of being sympathisers. At the same time they accelerated

clandestine operations using both agents and the Hezbollah Islamist group to kill activists. This

anti-leftist group, quite distinct from the Lebanese organisation of the same name, had

spontaneously emerged amongst small businessmen resentful of PKK revolutionary taxes. With

the blessing of the state and proved as brutal as the PKK, ejecting them from several south-

eastern towns in the early 1990’s and eventually getting beyond the control of their covert state

sponsors (Ergil, 2007, p. 339; Özdağ, 2003, p. 40).

Whilst the Turkish state began to increase its repression the PKK shifted in the other

direction. Outcomes at its 4th convention indicated that it was learning and taking public opinion

into account (Marcus, 2007, p. 119), with policy shifting to increase ‘political warfare’ and

ending both attacks on civilians and conscription, though those who did not join were fined

(Latif, 1999, p. 121) Recognising the tension between the piety of many Kurds and atheist

Marxism, the PKK founded an ‘Islamic wing’. Öcalan again blamed local commanders for the

murders of civilians (Stein, 1994, p. 37). The PKK also offered a year-long amnesty period for

guards to resign (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 111). For the next three years attacks on civilians

would decline, although those on isolated Korucu, and troops as well as Kurd and PKK

dissenters continued (Marcus, 2007, p. 118). When several members split and formed the ‘PKK–

Revival’, the faction failed, demonstrating the ‘totality of Öcalans power’ over the movement

(Marcus, 2007, pp. 149-151). The overall effect was that to many Kurds the movement appeared

‘exacting but fair’ (Marcus, 2007, p. 119).

In March clashes between mourners and police at an insurgent’s funeral that coincided

with ‘Newroz’75 celebrations triggered a wave of protest demonstrations that spread and grew

across Kurdish areas and even into western Turkey (P. J. White, 2000, p. 184). This spontaneous

mass defiance, echoing the Palestinian uprising, eventually died away but unlike earlier PKK-

directed closures of shops (Mango, 2005, p. 40), indicated that deep support for the PKK

extended into urban areas. It was symbolically very important: the state was losing control

(Marcus, 2007, pp. 142-144).

Attempts to find legitimate political expression continued to be frustrated. The OHAL

governor made a special decree banning all publications that did not follow the government line

(Marcus, 2007, p. 128) and when seven members of the SHP formed a new Kurdish party, the

HEP (Gürbey, 1996, p. 26; Marcus, 2007, p. 128), this generated a very hostile response and one

was assassinated in July (Marcus, 2007, p. 208). This frustration of political options appears to

75 The new year festival of Kurds and various other Persian linked cultures which the PKK ‘adopted’ as a symbol of defiance


have turned more Kurds towards violence but possibly also shifted some support towards the

now strengthening Islamist ‘Refah’ (B. Lewis, 2002, p. xiv).

1991

On orders from the major ... The soldiers started to burn our goods. The women of the village tried to intervene. The soldiers threw them to one side. Our property that was burned included more than five thousand poplar trees, more than four tons of wheat, all the forests and pasture around the village, more than twenty buildings ... As we were being driven from the village, the soldiers were machine-gunning our livestock ... They gave us two choices: Either we were to become village guards and die. Or we were to leave and be hungry ... Where and how can we shelter? How can we feed our children? – Petition by Mehmet M, February 12, 1991 (HRW, 2002)

In early 1991 with the backing of the UN and heralding a unipolar world76, US-led

coalition ejected Iraq from Kuwait, during which a CIA radio station encouraged both a Shiite

rebellion in the south and a Kurdish one in the north. Within 10 days of Saddam’s signing a

ceasefire most of the north was in the control of the IKF (KDP/PUK etc). When anticipated

coalition support did not materialise, the rebellion collapsed in the face of a massive onslaught by

the Iraqi army, assisted by Iranian MEK guerrillas. Fearing another ‘al-Anfal’ slaughter, up to

two million Iraqis fled across the borders, whilst still being bombed by the Iraqi airforce. Many

thousands were killed by indiscriminate shelling or summarily executed as the IKF was pushed

back to a last stand near the border. Some PKK ‘disobeyed Öcalans orders and fought alongside

them and he ordered the execution of more than a quarter of the organisation’s cadre in

response...which the ARGK could afford because of its massive influx of recruits’ (Özdağ, 2003,

p. 37). At least 250,000 Kurds fleeing were prevented from entering Turkey by the army and

their suffering brought the plight of the Kurds to unprecedented international public attention. A

Turkish plan to establish a security zone in northern Iraq was accepted, with light ground forces

and a protective ‘no-fly’ zone provided by US ‘Operation Provide Comfort’ (largely mounted

from Turkish airbases) whilst the refugees were supported by a major UN relief operation

(Zürcher, 2004, p. 328). In the zone the IKF regrouped and established an enclave amongst the

returning Kurd refugees which would become a de-facto autonomous region on the northern

Iraqi border (Marcus, 2007, p. 179). Saddam enforced a total blockade of the area so Barzani and

Talibani were now totally dependent on a supply line through Turkey (Marcus, 2007, p. 202) and

consequently began to take an increasingly pro-Turkish stance. This was despite suspicion of

duplicity in TAF air raids from August onwards against supposed PKK bases in Iraq that

sometimes killed IKF members (Marcus, 2007, p. 200). After hesitation, in October the IKF

announced its intention to ‘combat the PKK’ and made an agreement to cooperate with the

Turkish army. This put Öcalan in a difficult position (Gunter, 1996, pp. 52-53) and in November

he held negotiations with the PUK during which Talabani appealed to the PKK for a ceasefire.

76 The USSR was disintegrating and distracted from international considerations

Turkey Page 185

The response was criticism of the IKF relationship with the US (Gunter, 1996, p. 53) and more

attacks in Turkey, aggravating the PKK/PUK conflict (Zehni, 2008, p. 32). A vengeful Saddam

now increased his support to the PKK (Mango, 2005, p. 39) whilst the Syrians began to actively

encourage their own Kurds to join the organisation, exempting them from Syrian army

conscription if they did. Total numbers had reached perhaps 12,000 and recruiting had to be

curtailed because training facilities could not cope (Latif, 1999, p. 137; Özdağ, 2003, p. 38).

The effect of the Gulf war was that the PKK’s international support was strengthened

somewhat, whilst within Turkey Özal’s support for the war had proved unpopular (Mango, 2004,

p. 91) especially in a southeast now suffering from a refugee problem and a local economy

dislocated by the ending of trade with Iraq (Olson, 2000, p. 39). However Turkey had earned

‘credit’ with its allies who were dependent on TAF airbases and the PKK was now firmly

identified as a Saddam ally. This would mute potential criticism of a looming change in political

approach and military strategy. As early as April a commando raid struck a PKK base in Iraq,

and in August a week long Turkish incursion backed by air power struck 24 camps and the PKK

suffered significant casualties in a determined ‘positional’ defence. Two October attacks on

guardhouses were followed by a raid into Iraq against PKK (Jongerden, 2007, p. 62; Özdağ,

2003, p. 39).

Within the southeast the military was still defensively focussed on protecting isolated

Jandarma guardhouses, usually located in the valleys, with minefields, tanks and artillery. This

posture had permitted the now burgeoning PKK to operate relatively freely in the region striking

widely, inflicting heavy losses and closing even major roads to search for state employees and

kill them (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, pp. 111-112). Gradually the increasing PKK activity began

to paralyse the south-east (P. J. White, 2000, p. 165), although their shift towards using larger

units meant that they were more detectable, vulnerable to aircraft (especially the new armed

helicopters), and harder to command effectively (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 112). Early in the

year the Turkish army began to reorganise its structure breaking down large entities optimised to

fight a Soviet invasion into a more flexible structure of smaller units, with some infantry

regiments splitting to form specialised internal security battalions deployed to dedicated areas of

responsibility (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 111). At the same time it adopted a ‘field domination’

strategy which signalled the intention to shift to a counterinsurgency doctrine of ‘clear and hold’

from the previous ‘search and destroy’ (and go back to base afterwards), although these changes

would take several years to fully take effect (van Etten et al., 2008, p. 1789).

Whilst the ‘big army’ restructured, both it and the Jandarma continued to be used to

enforce village clearance and repress demonstrations with increasing violence. In July they

opened fire on a funeral procession in Diyarbakir killing eight (Stein, 1994, p. 47) and again fired


on demonstrations in December (Marcus, 2007, p. 166). Concurrently, covert and clandestine77

killing, assumed to be by the security forces (or their proxies), began to escalate. Van Bruinessen

(1996, p. 20) cites the Turkish Human Rights Association (IHD) listing 31 persons killed by

‘unknown actors’ generally, whilst Romano et al. (2006, p. 84) describe more than 50

extrajudicial executions of those believed to be in contact with the PKK or in the legal Kurdish

opposition. The political situation changed at the general election. The winning radical-centre-

right DYP platform had included a refusal to recognise the Kurds as an ethnic minority, (Gürbey,

1996, p. 15) but it was elected without a working majority. Negotiations brought the centre-left

SHP into its coalition. Included in this were 22 members of the Kurdish HEP, who, prevented by

a technicality from standing for their own party had stood on SHP tickets. The 22 were rejected

by the DYP and the wider political establishment (Marcus, 2007, pp. 164-167). Whilst the

parliament had partially repealed the law banning the use of Kurdish languages it had also passed

a new one that criminalized any Kurdish political activism by defining terrorism so broadly that

any ordinary political oppositional act could be included (Hamdan, 2009, p. 69). This ‘repressed

the population and press more than the PKK’ (Ergil, 2007, p. 343) and unsurprisingly, increased

Kurdish frustration with political solutions.

The PKK exploited the situation by both quietly endorsing the HEP and then attempting

to control it. This and increasing involvement in publishing and cultural events inside and

outside Turkey provided a legal way to promote their views and provided the leverage for the

PKK (especially via ERNK) to grow rapidly (Marcus, 2007, pp. 161-163). The growth in ERNK

assisted in an increase in attacks in western areas and on tourist targets (Mango, 2005, p. 40).

The result was that thousands began to support the PKK (Marcus, 2007, p. 160).

1992

The collapse of the Soviet Union in late 1991 marked the end of the cold war, material

support for revolutionaries and vitally the ‘failure of the socialist project’. Marxism had lost

political credibility, US power appeared unchallenged and its support decisive. The Aegean

crisis had eased and the Turkish army were now able to turn their focus east (Morgado, 2006, p.

57). In the context of a transformed regional order (Barkey & Fuller, 1998, p. 135), with Syria

reaching out to Turkey, in early 1992 the Turk-dependent IKF warned the PKK to stop attacks

from camps within northern Iraq on pain of being purged (Zehni, 2008, p. 32). Sensing a

decisive moment, in March, to coincide with the Newroz festival, in several south-eastern cities

the PKK launched attacks by many hundreds of insurgents coordinated with major

demonstrations in the town. The security forces crushed the (probably mostly unarmed)

77 Clandestine killing seeks to hide the fact of the act but is less concerned with indications of who acted (disappearances associated with security force arrests are typical) whereas covert killing seeks to conceal the true perpetrators sufficiently that they can plausibly deny responsibility (proxy killings are examples).

Turkey Page 187

demonstrations killing 90 (Marcus, 2007, p. 208) and after a few days of heavy fighting against

PKK leaders clearly struggling to coordinate large combat groups, regained control of the cities,

and successfully mounted broad mopping up, operations gaining a psychological boost (Kohen,

1992; Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 112). Despite the casualties, PKK numbers were exploding,

with the Prime Minister stating “there are some 10,000 PKK members in northern Iraq and all

along our border” (Cowell, 1993). The Turkish parliament, representing a polarised nation, and

particularly angry at the Kurdish mass demonstrations, extended the state of emergency and tried

to shut the HEP and strip Kurdish deputies of parliamentary immunity (Marcus, 2007, p. 208).

The savagery of the Newroz PKK attacks was denounced by Barzani as ‘ruining the

reputation of Kurds everywhere’. Öcalan then declared the IFK were collaborators and Barzani a

‘feudal reactionary’. Defiantly, and conscious of growing support for his now ‘nationalist’

movement inside Turkey, he created a pro-PKK Iraqi organisation, the Kurdistan Liberation

Army (PAK)(Gunter, 1996, pp. 54-55). In Iraq, clashes occurred as a KDP element tried to

defect to the PAK and the PKK subsequently closed the IKF’s single supply route into Turkey

for a month by banning local drivers from crossing (Gunter, 1996, pp. 54-55). In September the

(temporary) Turkish rapprochement with Syria forced the PKK to close their Bekkaa camp

(Marcus, 2007, p. 103) but that did not stop the insurgents from mounting another major raid in

Turkey and increasing its control over villages in the border (Gunter, 1996, pp. 54-55).

To deal with the challenge and keep Turkish support the IKF now demanded the PKK

leave or be expelled, and then in early October attacked PKK camps with 5,000 peshmerga

(Kutschera, 1994, p. 14). Twelve days later, operation ‘Hakur’ saw 15,000 Turkish troops,

armoured vehicles and artillery cross the border with to join the fray (Gunter, 1996, pp. 54-55;

Zehni, 2008, p. 32). Since the camps represented important logistics bases and were occupied by

the inexperienced and untrained, the PKK attempted positional defence (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003,

p. 113). Facing tanks and air strikes they suffered heavy78 (but disputed) casualties of at least 300

(Gunter, 1996, p. 55) and lost vital infrastructure and key supplies (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p.

113). The PKK in the camps, which had apparently been struck a devastating blow, then

supposedly ‘surrendered’ to the PUK and 1500 were ‘interned ‘(Gunter, 1996, pp. 54-55). In

reality, Kurdish factional politics had reasserted itself and the PKK fighters had presumably been

saved from further pursuit and destruction by the Turks. After a follow up Turkish raid in

November (Raphael, 1992), the PKK quietly relocated its main camps to the Iranian border and

were re-established within months (Marcus, 2007, p. 206). The Turks however mistakenly

believed that they had broken the back of their enemy’s force (Gunter, 1996, p. 55)

Within Turkey and reflecting the new strategy, the security forces began to apply the

Turkish coercive interpretation of ‘counter insurgency’ rather than ‘counter-terrorism’

78 Between 150, PKK figures and 2000, Turkish figures.


approaches79 (Morgado, 2006, p. 57). In the countryside they began to change from large-scale

dismounted and vehicle-borne operations to smaller ones based on heli-mobile forces (Latif,

1999). The importance of the propaganda war was understood: unambiguous direction was

given to the media to conform to the state line. In February, two journalists writing for radical

publications were shot dead ("Turkey: Spring Thunder," 1992) and any publications perceived as

pro-PKK were closed down (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 113).

Faced with large scale attacks, the military became increasingly aggressive in urban

areas, shooting over 20 persons80 in 13 separate demonstrations (Marcus, 2007, p. 176) and

repeatedly81 responding to contacts by shooting at houses (Marcus, 2007, p. 177). Given the

scale of the PKK attacks it is difficult to discern whether military responses were proportionate,

but many appear to have been excessive. In April in Batman many buildings were destroyed

after a police officer was killed, In September in Agri after six soldiers died the buildings were

fired at with heavy weapons killing children. In October after two soldiers were killed in Kulp,

fire was applied randomly at buildings and vehicles until dusk and helicopters and artillery fired

for three days (Whitman, 1993, p. 8). An attack in the town of Şırnak was met with a 22-hr

artillery barrage after which soldiers burned the rubble (P. S. White, 1997, p. 238) leaving 70%

of its buildings ruined (Marcus, 2007, p. 176) and all but a few of its 25k population left (Latif,

1999, p. 86). However, Özdağ (2003, p. 43) describes this clash as ‘restoring military

confidence’ after a successful three day defensive battle by the commando garrison, a description

that would not have been used if the PKK threat had not been substantial. In November after a

mine destroyed an armoured vehicle a civilian area was shelled killing five children (Whitman,

1993, p. 8).

The security forces also began to close down ERNK in cities, arresting thousands and

killing suspects who resisted (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 113). Forced evacuations of villages

that had started near the Iraqi border now spread to other areas of PKK activity. At this stage of

clearances the coercion levels and methods used still varied from formally giving a few hours

warning to move to intimidatory shootings by anonymous masked gunmen at night, indicating

laissez-faire rather than directed policy. The level and nature of killing of Kurd activists and

presumed PKK sympathisers did indicate direction. In this year 23 HEP officials and perhaps

35082 activists were ‘mysteriously’ murdered (Marcus, 2007, pp. 176, 208).

Unable to risk major attacks on towns, the PKK returned attention to more remote

targets. Intending to demonstrate their continued potency and raise morale the PKK launched a

500-fighter attack on Jandarma guardhouse complexes in the Semdimli-Derecik region, but the

79 The focus of COIN is to target the popular support base of the insurgents rather than the fighters directly 80 This is the official figure and probably low. 81 Including incidents in Cukruca, Agi and Kulp (Marcus, 2007, p. 177) 82 Counting slightly different categories, Marcus (2007, p. 176) gives 250 and van Bruinessen 360 (1996, p. 20)

Turkey Page 189

Turkish response with its new Super Cobra armed helicopters broke the attack and killed over a

third of the attackers ("One to the Turks," 1992) and subsequent large attacks met similar results

with the PKK proving unable to concentrate forces: the night-capable aircraft were proving

decisive (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 113). Given this, the PKK now turned back to small scale

operations and softer targets; state officials, Kurds openly loyal, infrastructure and development

projects (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 113), dramatically increasing the number of attacks. In the

year they assassinated 210 state supporters of whom 10 were teachers (Marcus, 2007, pp.

169,219).

January 1993 to March 1993

Iraq continued to defy UN inspection of alleged weapons of mass destruction and in

January 1993 the US launched a large missile strike causing Saddam to back down, reminding

observers of a dramatically changed regional situation. Despite battlefield losses, the PKK had

de facto control of some areas of the southeast (Latif, 1999, p. 26), was at a high point of popular

support, sensed opportunity, and had adjusted its demands downwards to not even mention

autonomy. The Turkish military, conversely, sensed weakness. To their chagrin, since late 1991,

President Özal who had been responsible for earlier minor easements of repression such as

relaxing the ban on Kurdish language and who acknowledged his Kurdish ancestry had been

attempting to seek a political solution (Romano et al., 2006, p. 57). As he was the unrepentant

architect of draconian approaches including village clearance and flooding of Kurdish areas

(Pope, 1993) the security establishment could not easily obstruct his Presidential activism. In

February, possibly acting at Özal’s behest, Talibani met Öcalan to discuss a ceasefire proposal

after which Öcalan praised the PUK’s good offices (Gunter, 1996, p. 55) and in March, with

Talibani present, Öcalan declared that the PKK did not intend "to separate immediately from

Turkey" (Kutschera, 1994, p. 14) and announced the 25 day ceasefire (Marcus, 2007, p. 212)

‘provided that the Turks do not attack’ (Fox & Young, 1999, p. 11) that marks the end of this

phase.

Repression and Support in Phase III

The third phase of the conflict saw a continuing increase in state repression. Village

clearances continued with about 1000 settlements evacuated in the period (Marcus, 2007, pp.

221-224). The military were able to prevail wherever they concentrated forces and so prevented

PKK permanent control of any inhabited area. They also learned to use armed helicopters to

defeat large scale attacks. However they were unable to prevent the PKK continuing hit and run

attacks. Frustration drove increasingly violent repression of demonstrations and covert and

clandestine killings. The victims were increasingly those who either supported a Kurdish

political voice, regardless of whether they supported or even opposed the PKK or those who


might have provided even passive support to PKK in their area, regardless of coercion. State

repression was thus indiscriminate between those who supported and those who did not support

the PKK. Tellingly, even two Turkish policemen observe; ‘a tougher stance by SF forced (pro

state) locals back to a neutral positions – which became tacit support (for the PKK)’ (Durna &

Hancerli, 2007, p. 328).

As the VTFS analysis and title indicate, the third phase saw a dramatic growth in support

for the PKK. This was indicated by a burst in recruitment especially from urban areas which

increased total numbers, despite increased casualties flowing from youth and inexperience.

Claims of up to 10,000 insurgents in 1982 are hard to verify but large increases are certainly

consistent with the increased spread and frequency of attack and known inadequacy of significant

flows of PKK supplies (Marcus, 2007, pp. 169-170, 185). Villagers were reportedly increasingly

willing to voluntarily provide support. Other indicators of increasing, but not necessarily

voluntary, support are the PKK’s ability to direct the closure of shops, strikes and massive

attendance at funerals for insurgents (Marcus, 2007, pp. 175-176). In July 1983 Turkish Chief of

General Staff estimated that 10% of Kurdish regions were active sympathisers (Gürbey, 1996, p.

24). Funding for the insurgency was also vital. The ‘tax’ levied on businesses, municipal

authorities and the wealthy was certainly backed by threat as was their ability to fix tendering

processes for a 30% fee and other ‘fee for service crime’. Drug trading and smuggling had

certainly become a, if not the, major source of revenue although PKK direct involvement is

contested (Marcus, 2007, p. 183). Given that smuggling is an endemic business amongst the

Kurds, a PKK exchange of ‘protection’ and a ‘patriotic’ justification in exchange for a large slice

of the profits may make their claims to not be involved true, if disingenuous.

6.2.4 Phase IV: “Triumph of the Big Stick” (March 1993–1999)

Overview

In the fourth phase, the ceasefire failed and an uncompromising government aligned

itself with the military’s desire for robust action. Externally Iran was persuaded to end support

for the PKK, Syria was successfully threatened into doing so and the PKK haven in Iraq was

undermined by unifying the feuding Iraqi Kurds and turning them on the PKK. An earlier shift

to a strategic concept of ‘field domination’ could now be effected as a reorganisation and

retraining of the army bore fruit, allowing the military to clear and hold increasing areas of the

mountains. Integral to this strategy was the systematic clearance of villages not ‘proved loyal’

and their surrounding farmland, pastures and forests, thus denying local resources to the PKK.

The inclination of Kurds to support the PKK was not reduced, but those that might were mostly

no longer living in the southeast but deported to the cities and west where the ‘dirty war’

continued to constrain (but not cripple) the PKK. The PKK was seriously weakened by this

dislocation combined with successful attacks on PKK camps in northern Iraq. However the

Turkey Page 191

‘defeat’ of the PKK insurgency flowed from the capture of Öcalan, his unexpected direction to

end the armed struggle and the subsequent fracturing of the organisation.

1993 March to December

The Turkish military did not wish to give what they considered a defeated PKK

legitimacy by observing the ceasefire and continued air attacks and limited ground operations

(HRFT, 1994, p. 40). Some clashes continued, but the previous year’s massive clashes around

Newroz did not occur: demonstrations were restrained and generally not broken up (Marcus,

2007, pp. 212-214). The PKK extended the ceasefire on condition that the Turks ‘cease

searching’, which Prime Minister Denirel (Barkey & Fuller, 1998, p. 136), who opposed the

Presidents outreach, rejected (Fox & Young, 1999, p. 11). Shortly after, Özal died in suspicious

circumstances (Rudaw, 2010) virtually removing the possibility of negotiations. In May the

PKK, in an action that Öcalan would later equivocate over, captured 33 unarmed soldiers and

executed them. Turkish public opinion was outraged and the military were given free rein whilst

the PKK openly returned to terrorism (P. J. White, 2000, p. 169). Denirel moved83 to the

presidency to be replaced by Tansu Ciller who had little experience and was in a politically

precarious situation. She was soon persuaded or pressured by the military to be

uncompromising, dropping an initial conciliatory ‘Basque option’ (1997, p. 2; Latif, 1999, p.

296). Reinforcing this pressure was the unpopularity of the DYP government’s need to go to the

IMF for a loan and accept devaluation and retrenchment: taking a populist hard line was a useful

distraction (Kirişci & Winrow, 1997, p. 139). She adopted a policy of ‘total war’, not just by the

military but co-opting and coercing the media to act as cheerleaders (Özdağ, 2003, p. 49; P. S.

White, 1997, p. 242).

This coincided with strategic changes in the regional situation. A three nation summit in

August in which Turkey took a strong position over water flows led to joint security protocols

with Syria who characterised the PKK as ‘terrorists’ and implied the PKK would be unwelcome.

Iran issued an order to ‘shoot the PKK’ (Olson, 1996, pp. 86-87, 92). This at the very least

reduced their support by forcing it to be delivered covertly. Turkish commentators began to

accuse the PUK of providing a base and ‘safehouse’ for 1700 ‘interned PKK fighters (Gunter,

1996, p. 55).

The fundamental shift in Turkish military strategy started in 1991 now began to deliver

changes on the ground. According to observers such as Marcus (2007, pp. 212, 219) who

assessed the PKK offensive as then at its peak and the situation ripe for general uprising, the

Army (sic) had been on the strategic defensive with many areas abandoned to the rebels and

Korucu trying to resign. If correct, this was about to change. The military now had the political

83 Under the Turkish system then operating the president was elected from and by members of the National Assembly


backing to implement the ‘field domination’ concept that they had adopted several years before

and been preparing for. Troops in the region were increased to 160k, which made 300k

including Jandarma and village guards(Özdağ, 2003, p. 52). They had new communications and

night vision equipment, whilst changed conditions of service had allowed them to build up a

cadre of experienced junior leaders84 who could navigate and operate at night and in coordinated

small groups. They now would increasingly be able to dominate terrain by patrols and

observation posts, with sweeps flushing out insurgent whom they were now able to pursue.

Villages were put under curfew and observation and non-perishable food supplies strictly

controlled. This would begin to keep the PKK far from habitation or on the move and exhausted

(Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, pp. 114-115).

Even more significantly the Turks now decided to that they would no longer tolerate

neutrality. Up until this point the forced evacuation of villages had been a policy applied

somewhat variably against those who were suspected of providing support to the PKK, often as

reprisals for recent attacks. Now what Jongerden (2005, p. 38) labels a ‘draft or destroy’

approach to the evacuation of villages became a key part of the strategy of domination (van Etten

et al., 2008, p. 1789). Any villages that supported or were threatened by the PKK were to be

evacuated (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 115), and the de-facto definition of such vulnerability was

evidently if the villagers did not join the Korucu. To provide for expansion of the Korucu from

its 32,000 level (Zehni, 2008, p. 22) a new category of ‘voluntary Korucu’ was introduced who

were only to be ‘defensively’ employed and were unpaid but received health and other benefits

as well as weapons (CORI, 2011, p. 8). Furthermore, any cover that could be used by the PKK

near such villages would need to be removed, providing the rationale for the burning of forests,

crops and buildings. The clearing of villages and movement of Kurds to urban centres and

western Turkey is not contested: the minister confirmed a figure of 874 settlements evacuated in

1993 (van Bruinessen, 1995). However, despite extensive testimony backed by objective

assessment, including analysis using geospatial imagery (Jongerden, 2005) the Turkish

authorities until very recently totally denied having compelled the villagers to leave.

Furthermore, only very rarely were any arrangements made by the state for actual resettlement.

In urban areas the military were similarly robust. In August the town of Yuksekova

came under heavy fire causing 25,000 residents to flee (Fox & Young, 1999, p. 12). The military

blamed the PKK, who were most unlikely to have been responsible. In October PKK snipers

killed a Brigadier in Lice and there was what Mango (2005, p. 37) describes as ‘heavy damage as

troops flushed out the terrorists’ and what Marcus (2007, p. 221) says was ‘troops raking houses

with gunfire’, killing 30 and causing most of the 35,000 residents to flee: it was noticeable that

government buildings remained undamaged within the rubble. Soon not only these towns and

84 The sergeant with tenure programme

Turkey Page 193

the earlier case of Şırnak, but Varto, Kiulp, Silvan, and Cukurova had also been forcibly

evacuated, with a large proportion of the inhabitants never returning (P. J. White, 2000, p. 173).

Under Ciller, this uncompromising attitude was also applied to suspected or potential

supporters of the PKK elsewhere in the country. Beriker Atiyas ‘(1997, p. 440) describes the

government successfully having ‘hired extreme nationalist outlaws to eliminate the Kurdish

Mafia in Istanbul’ and what the authorities would refer to as the ‘mysterious murder’ (usually of

activists) by ‘unknown actors’ exceeded 450 that year (Marcus, 2007, p. 176; van Bruinessen,

1996, p. 20). Cillers hostility extended to the Kurdish parties which she considered ‘mouthpieces

for the PKK’ and was echoed by the wider state. The constitutional Court closed the HEP in July

and the members migrated to the newly formed (Gürbey, 1996, p. 26) Democracy Party (DEP)

which was then violently targeted with 17 officials and one deputy murdered and its offices

bombed, even as legal moves to close it down also began. These responses increasingly

radicalised those who were previously seeking peaceful solutions, some joining the PKK

(Marcus, 2007, pp. 208, 226-227; Zehni, 2008, p. 29).

Özal’s death, the end of the ceasefire and the military offensive led the PKK to shift

effort from the military to economic and tourist targets (Latif, 1999, p. 26) and to the political

stage, especially internationally (Ibrahim & Gürbey, 2000, p. 11) where in June they mounted

coordinated protests and raids on Turkish businesses and diplomatic missions in 19 EU cities,

Melbourne and Sydney (Kohen, 1993). This led to the PKK being banned in Germany and

France which stopped direct political lobbying by the PKK but not material support for the

insurgents (Marcus, 2007, p. 233). Within Turkey the result of the offensive was far from the

crushing that the Turks intended. In the face of oppression PKK recruiting continued to boom,

with a Turkish General acknowledging the PKK had doubled in past years and Öcalan’s brother

thanking the Turks for delivering this support ‘on a silver platter’ (P. S. White, 1997, p. 245).

The PKK continued to strike ‘soft’ targets and civil authority, especially targeting teachers

(Zürcher, 2004, p. 318). 300 ‘state supporters ‘were killed including 34 teachers and in

November all schools in the southeast were closed (Marcus, 2007, pp. 169, 219). In July there

was a massacre of villagers, including 14 children, attributed to PKK ‘returning to its ways’ but

Kurdish sources believed the attack was carried out by an Ozel Timler ‘pseudo-gang’ (P. J.

White, 2000, p. 195).

The PKK also successfully demanded that Turkish political parties and all media leave

the southeast (Gürbey, 1996, p. 23) and began a programme of kidnapping and releasing tourists

across the whole country (Marcus, 2007, p. 219).

1994

In early 1994 the PKK continued to strike western Turkey with a bombing campaign

(Marcus, 2007, pp. 226-227), a strategy endorsed by their 3rd congress in March which directed


‘all out war’ and attacks by ERNK in the cities as well as further development of European

diaspora support networks and fundraising (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 115). Attacks on convoys

continued and a raid on a teacher training college killed seven teachers (van Bruinessen, 1995, p.

18).

The strategic change within the Turkish military now began to align with a robust

approach to foreign policy and the year started with a major TAF raid that destroyed the camp in

Zaleh/Zeli (Zehni, 2008, p. 32) in Iraq where the PKK ‘interned’ by the PUK were supposedly

being held, but the 1600 insurgents the Turks claimed were there seemed to have evacuated

(Gunter, 1996, p. 55, 1997, p. 38). In May there were signs of possible reduced Iranian and Iraqi

support for the PKK. Iran, seeking to reduce overseas support to the MEK, and after a series of

meetings, decided to show that it meant to deliver on the accords it had signed with Turkey the

previous year and its associated threat to shoot PKK members: it now handed over PKK corpses

and prisoners. Later in the year the countries would agree to cooperate against the PKK,

including allowing the TAF to strike PKK camps in Iran (Olson, 1996, p. 92). Although both

sides probably recognised that the action was as cynical as the Iranians previous support of the

PKK, this did reduce PKK freedom of action in Iran. Similarly Iraq’s admittedly now limited

support for the PKK was also under pressure. Ciller and the DYP considered Turkish support for

the US in 1991 had been an error. Though Turkey was sustaining the de-facto Kurdish

autonomy developing in the no-fly zone as a ‘lesser-evil’ means of exerting control, it was

philosophically very unenthusiastic about what was happening and so had hedged its bets and

striven to mend fences with Iraq (Hamdan, 2009, p. 109).

The ‘Kurdish civil war’ (Dunn, 1995) that first erupted in May between the PUK and

the KDP in the protected ‘no-fly’ zone of Iraq allowed the PKK to establish new bases in KDP

areas unhindered (Gunter, 1996, pp. 56-58; Özdağ, 2003, p. 59). The clash arose over various

issues but especially the sharing of revenues levied on imports from Turkey (Olson, 1996, p. 96),

The PKK as quasi-allies of the PUK were perceived as aggravating the conflict and this

antagonised US at a time when, striving to contain an increasingly defiant Saddam, it needed to

woo the Turks. This would now serve to lessen possible critique from the one state with the

power to constrain Turkish behaviour. The US, privy to local intelligence from its forces

stationed in bases in the southeast was well aware of Turkish policies under Ciller, but were

intent on bringing an unfriendly DYP-led government back on side, using its ‘friends’ in the

Turkish military. The tone of state behaviour was set by a Prime Minister who graphically

promised retribution on the PKK in pursuit of the nationalist vote (Nigogosian, 1996, p. 40). It

seemed that her words were not just rhetoric. In 1993 she had declared in parliament that she

“had a list of figures who had been paying extortion money to the PKK” and “we shall be

bringing them to account”. From January, people purportedly on ‘Cillers list’ were kidnapped

Turkey Page 195

and killed by uniformed people in police cars85 (G. Jenkins, 2008). In parliament she led the

attack on the DEP, as a “mouthpiece of the PKK”, whilst outside it was being systematically and

violently attacked, including a bomb attack on the party HQ and the murder of many workers and

a deputy. The parliament voted to remove immunity from the DEP and those that had not fled

the country in anticipation were arrested for treason and eventually jailed on lesser charges. The

replacement party, HADEP was later closed down too (Gürbey, 1996, p. 27; Marcus, 2007, pp.

226-227; Nigogosian, 1996, p. 40).

With leadership setting this tone and an explicit ‘scorched earth’ policy, it is hardly

surprising that in the legal vacuum created by removal of civil authority in OHAL’s rural areas,

paramilitary security measures, as Hamdan (2009, p. 104) expresses it, ‘exceed controllability

and promoted human right violations’. In the first half of the year there was simply a gradual

escalation of existing trends. More troops were deployed and from January conscript discharges

were deferred for four months to provide more manpower (Turkey - Defense Spending 1995).

‘Professional’ technique improved and the military deployed more checkpoints and ambushes,

successfully intercepting PKK recruits and supplies whilst small mobile units began to move into

the mountains seeking and maintaining contact with the PKK and inflicting heavier casualties.

Major military operations starting in the first part of the year, by July regained control over the

Gabar, Yassi and Cudi mountain areas that the PKK had long called their own. A cross border

raid in April by 5,000 troops mostly Hakkiri Brigade commandos, cleared a PKK camp inside

Iraq and later in the year these specially trained troops would continue mountain operations in the

winter for the first time, denying the traditional respite (Latif, 1999, p. 60; Özdağ, 2003, pp. 56-

57).

Repressive techniques also accelerated. In more villages the military turned up and

demanded the inhabitants join the Korucu and if they did not, selected people were beaten or

tortured and the place evacuated. In a typical instance the village chief was told to join, and

when he refused he was shot (McKiernan, 1999, p. 31). Staple foods were now rationed to

reduce quantities available to the PKK, with embargos on carrying any outside of villages (Latif,

1999, p. 59; UNHCR, 2005, pp. 39-40). Vehicles and people were searched and anyone caught

travelling with any unauthorised food was detained (van Bruinessen, 1995, p. 22). In response to

PKK attacks in March the Korucu burnt shops and houses, the military shelled buildings and, in

the Cuci mountains, the TAF bombed villages killing 24 (Marcus, 2007, pp. 221-224). In June

the still erratic repression became a deliberate attempt to totally change the environment that was

sheltering the PKK. The Minister announced the creation of forbidden zones which would be

totally evacuated and “anyone within them shot on sight” (van Bruinessen, 1995, pp. 8, 9). This

began a wave of operations starting in July (van Etten et al., 2008, p. 1790) to sweep and

85 Subsequently Abdullah Çatlı, an organised crime figure associated with the ultra-nationalist ‘Grey Wolves’ was implicated.


evacuate (van Bruinessen, 1995, p. 18) which now included systematic burning of the forests.

From September the scale, scope and indiscriminate brutality of military repression in the

provinces of Tuncelli, Bingol and Savas escalated enough to outrage even a member of Turkish

Government who declared “the state is committing terrorism” (Nigogosian, 1996, pp. 42-43).

During a large scale autumn operation against the 2-3k insurgents they thought they faced in

Tuncelli province (Gunter, 1997, p. 38) a credible Turkish sources said that 25% of the forests

there had been destroyed (van Etten et al., 2008, p. 1790) and 33% of villages had been

evacuated and destroyed by fire (van Bruinessen, 1995, p. 35). Even the towns were no longer a

refuge, for 30k were driven from Cizre. Some of the exodus was placed in four massive

encampments, many fled west and at least 8k fled into Iraq. In the process many ‘disappeared’,

100 in Diyarbakir alone ("Turkey's Kurds: Scorched earth," 1994; P. J. White, 2000, p. 172).

About a further 1000 villages were evacuated in 1994 (van Bruinessen, 1995, pp. 8, 9) and a

contested figure of between 300,000 and one million Kurds had now been driven to the cities in

the west and the growing slums of towns like Diyarbakir (Marcus, 2007, pp. 221-224). The PKK

encouraged 25,000 of the refugees to flee Turkey for sanctuary in UN refugee camps in northern

Iraq which improved its political base there and provided some cover for fleeing PKK members

(Gunter, 1996, p. 57).

By December the robust approach seemed to be producing results. There were reports of

starving animals coming out of the denuded forests searching for food and when a group of 85

PKK insurgents searching for food approached a village near Tuncelli it was successfully

ambushed (van Bruinessen, 1995, p. 19).

1995

Despite the clearances and associated loss of control, when the PKK held its 5th

congress in January it revealed ambitious plans to increase the ARGK to 50,000 or 60,000 and

crucially declared a readiness to merge with and take over the Iraqi Kurds ‘if that were needed’ to

prevail (Nigogosian, 1996, p. 43). These declarations suggest that that either Turkish military

effort was not yet impacting on PKK overall capabilities (as opposed to operations) or that there

was denial occurring: events later in the year in Iraq would show the PKK still militarily potent.

The congress again recognised errors, in this case the killing of teachers (Mango, 2005, p. 43),

made plans for a national assembly and the hammer and sickle was dropped from the flag,

symbolising a pragmatic shift to a nationalist rather than Marxist emphasis (Nigogosian, 1996, p.

43). The PKK also appears to have been deft in relation to Syria. In late 1994 and early 1995

relations between Turkey and Syria improved motivated by the latter’s desire to secure water

flows, seize economic opportunities and get off the US list of countries supporting terrorism.

However, starting at the same time, and ‘whether from strength or weakness’ (Olson, 1996, p.

90) or indeed cunning, the PKK had moved forces into Turkey’s Hatay province and in the first

Turkey Page 197

half of 1995 mounted attacks which killed 25. This is not considered a Kurdish area but contains

Alevi and Awalite minorities, was Syrian until 1939 and is still claimed by that country.

Tensions re-emerged on the basis of real or imagined encouragement from the PKK’s Syrian

hosts, compounded by German officials holding meetings with the PKK in Damascus (Olson,

1996, pp. 88,90,91) effectively undermining a rapprochement that threatened the PKK.

Another gain occurred on the political front. In April in the Hague the first meeting of

Kurdish Parliament in Exile (KPE) occurred, arguing for non-violent solutions. It was led by the

exiled DEP members who had just escaped imprisonment in Turkey (Nigogosian, 1996, p. 40).

Turkish outrage over the KPE only increased (Marcus, 2007, p. 236) already substantial

international sympathy for the Kurds based on growing knowledge of Turkish methods,

especially in Europe where large numbers of Kurdish refugees bore personal witness. Under

pressure to protect its international standing and more especially because of a desire to join the

EU customs union, Ciller made symbolic changes including repealing part of the ‘anti terror law’

to require ‘intent’ to be demonstrated for a terrorism conviction and freed 80 activists (Marcus,

2007, p. 252). Mere discussion of a political solution was no longer a ‘separatist’ crime (Kirişci

& Winrow, 1997, p. 140 ).

Notwithstanding any political gains, in Kurdish areas the PKK was now under pressure

from an increasingly effective Turkish military regrouped and re-equipped with armoured

vehicles and helicopters. Improved capability meant that by now the PKK ‘no longer owned the

night’ (Romano et al., 2006, p. 57), nor the mountains. Small army patrols observed, tracked and

probed in the mountains, bringing in artillery fire and coordinating sweeps by troops dropped by

helicopter against mechanised blocking forces. Significant PKK positions were attacked using

armoured tank and APC units (Özdağ, 2003, p. 60). The ‘clear and hold approach’ was

beginning to deliver results (Morgado, 2006, p. 57): by the end of the year the PKK ‘lost control

of many towns villages and roads that it controlled in the early 1990’s’ (Barkey & Fuller, 1998,

p. 26). Village clearances continued under a more formalised process. Inhabitants were often

given two week’s notice to join guards or leave: many left (McKiernan, 1999, p. 26). PKK

defections now also increased (Mango, 2005, p. 43). The Turks had also begun to emphasise an

amnesty programme, which superficially provided for reduced penalty for those with limited

culpability who surrendered. Less visible was a growing programme of ‘turning’ captured

insurgents, known in Turkish as ‘confessors’. PKK prisoners facing torture and death were

sometimes given the option to join one of the burgeoning black operations programmes covertly

run by the Army, Police or Jandarma to hunt down and kill their former comrades for reprieve

and often reward. Not only did the local and inside knowledge of ‘confessors’ improve the

effectiveness of conventional military operations in the mountains, in the towns and villages their

assassinations of undercover PKK or sympathisers generated great distrust, becoming paranoia

amongst ERNK cadres. This inhibited PKK operations (AI, 1996) and the net result was that the


initiative was passing to the Turkish military: they were now initiating contacts as they found the

PKK, rather than attacks occurring at the insurgents’ choice of place and time.

It was however only inside the country that the PKK would truly lose military advantage.

In March, after a period of build up, the Turkish army mounted operation ‘Celik’ or ‘Steel’

(Zehni, 2008, p. 32), a coordinated effort by 15,000 troops within south-eastern Turkey and a

massive incursion into northern Iraq with 35,000 men to attack PKK camps they thought

contained 2,4-2,8k insurgents ("25,000 Turkish troops in new assault on Kurds," 1995; Fox &

Young, 1999, p. 18; Gunter, 1996, p. 56, 1997, p. 38; Rohde, 1995). Preparatory and supporting

TAF air raids struck Iraqi Kurdish villages caused civilian casualties and 15,000 refugees to flee.

These attacks on ‘Saddam’s Victims’ generated an immediate international outcry against the

Turks (Marcus, 2007, pp. 245-246) and tangible reactions such as restrictions on military sales by

Germany (Robins, 1996, p. 124) enabled the West to force Turkey to abandon its intention to

leave troops in Iraq`(Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 115). This policy setback was compounded by

the realisation that the PKK had recognised signs of an imminent attack and redeployed most of

its supplies and fighters, only to have them return to the camps in May as the Turks withdrew

(Marcus, 2007, pp. 245-246). In July (Gunter, 1996, p. 56), 3000 Turkish soldiers conducted a

smaller scale version ‘operation raider’ (Pope, 1995) but this time promptly withdrew after three

days with little obvious payoff. The still considerable military power of the PKK was about to

become evident.

The prospect of the Iraqi Kurds forming a government with western sponsorship was an

anathema to Turkey, Iran and Syria as statements at a joint summit in November would later

confirm. Turkey’s approach was to manipulate both groups via their supply line and use the US-

favoured KDP as a proxy. To prevent KDP dominance the PUK was aided by both Syria and

Iran, with the latter providing material aid by directing close cooperation from 5,000 Shia ‘Badr

Brigade’ Iraqi insurgents fighting against Saddam (Olson, 1996, pp. 95-96). For the first part of

the year the violent conflict between the PUK and the KDP had continued to fester, but in August

the US sponsored peace talks in Dublin. This did not suit either Iran or Syria, but was dangerous

to the PKK: a re-united IKF would probably move against them. So with the ‘tacit cooperation’

of both those countries the PKK assembled 2500 fighters and attacked 20 KDP bases, disrupting

the wider truce. Fighting continued for the rest of the year and sporadically until a ceasefire three

years later (Gunter, 1996, pp. 50, 57,59, 1997, p. 38; Gunter, 2009, p. 45). The immediate effect

was PKK loss of support from the Kurdish diaspora (Marcus, 2007, p. 247), but it did

demonstrate that the PKK was far from the defeated force that the Turks kept proclaiming.

Nevertheless, within Turkey most contacts were arising from military offensive operations, not

initiated by the PKK (Özdağ, 2003, p. 63).

As Turkish military operations became more effective in 1995, the PKK senior

commanders thought that a new strategy, such as urban terrorism, might be needed. In response,

Turkey Page 199

Öcalan became increasingly critical, blaming reverses on them. One such leader fled to the KDP

but ended up in the custody of the Turkish military, who however failed to use the golden

opportunity to split the PKK – simply generating false confessions (Marcus, 2007, p. 243).

Nevertheless the PKK did change its tactics this year and increase attacks in large metropolitan

areas of Turkey (Zehni, 2008, p. 31) and in Dec 1995 unilaterally declared a ceasefire (AI, 1996).

Support in urban areas was ambiguous as shown by the December general election. HADEP, the

Kurdish party did not reach the 10% threshold to gain seats and the Islamist Refah, ‘noted for its

effective assistance to displaced Kurds’ was the beneficiary and became the largest single party

(Nigogosian, 1996, pp. 46-47), although a Motherland (ANAP /DYP) coalition took office the

next year (Kirişci & Winrow, 1997, p. 140).

1996

The ANAP/DYP coalition was dogged by corruption scandals, including that the

previous year’s revelation that Ciller had amassed a personal fortune in the US. It was however

able to sign an unlikely alliance with Israel (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 113), that would now put

huge pressure on Syria, before in June a popular backlash led to its collapse (Morgado, 2006, p.

22). A new coalition of Refah and DYP saw Erbekan as the first Islamist Prime Minster and

Ciller as his deputy, together taking a more overtly Islamic stance (Marcus, 2007, p. 252) to the

alarm of the military. Initial conciliatory measures towards their ‘brother Muslim’ Kurds were

dropped under pressure from DYP and Military (Kirişci & Winrow, 1997, p. xi), however

relations with Iran continued to improve, with Erbakan visiting and making a major agreement

over natural gas (Kirişci & Winrow, 1997, p. xi). Over the border, an Iranian incursion deep into

northern Iraq against KDP-I camps was assisted by the PUK. Barzani saw this as a threat and

asked for assistance from Saddam. 30,000 Iraqis then led the attack into the ‘no-fly’ zone,

smashing the PUK (Marcus, 2007, p. 248), seizing their city of Irbil and executing hundreds of

PUK prisoners. The US saw this as a breach of a UN resolution and launched missile strikes

against Iraqi air defences (Kinzer, 1996), and the Iraqis initially withdrew south. The KDP, with

further Iraqi help, then pushed the PUK out of their strongholds and back to the Iranian border.

Along the inside of the border the Turkish army deployed large numbers of troops ready

to intervene but also continued to conduct large scale operations within the southeast (Hamdan,

2009, p. 158). Pressure on the PKK in the mountains was intense, to survive they now had to run

and evade so significant numbers were now redeployed back in to Iraq. With their infrastructure

dislodged, recruitment now dropped dramatically (Gunter, 1997, p. 124; Özdağ, 2003, p. 64).

Village clearances appeared to drop off, probably because most of the target communities had

now been shifted. The PKK were also put on the defensive within Iraq and when they re-

established camps inside the border they were struck with ground and air raids, successfully

dispersing the insurgents and disrupting efforts to mount attacks into Turkey (Özdağ, 2003, p.


64). After a last large guardhouse attack inside Turkey in December86, a full Turkish army

brigade crossed the border and destroyed several camps (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 115),

supported by the KDP. However, though now denied bases in most of northern Iraq, the PKK

were now provided bases by both Iran and Syria, positioned to enable cross-border attacks

(Özdağ, 2003, p. 65). This seems to have been in response to the Turkish ‘alliance’ with Israel.

The PKK attempted to shift efforts to the west and the now denuded ERNK who began

using suicide bombers for the first time, especially women (Marcus, 2007, p. 243) and attacking

tourists. Turkish covert and clandestine operations continued and increasingly came to light. As

an example, the January ‘Güçlükonak massacre’ appeared to be an ambush by the PKK of a

minibus carrying four Korucu, a driver and their six prisoners and the official investigation

reported it that way. However an investigation by the Turkish ‘Together for Peace’ organisation

discovered evidence that members of the security forces had actually conducted the attack, for

which several later received minor punishment: the clear implication is that this was a ‘black

operation’ intended to eliminate selected Kurds and discredit the PKK after their recent ceasefire

declaration (AI, 1996; UNHCR, 2002, p. 17). The scale and scope of the ‘dirty war’ was

increasingly evident and alarming to many Turks, although both government and military

continued to deny involvement and ascribe blame to mysterious third parties (Komisar, 1997).

Suggestions of government complicity were ridiculed as ‘conspiracy theories’ but several

journalists who looked too closely were killed (Koivunen, 2002, p. 136). However, the existence

of a shadowy ‘deep state’ constituting connections between military figures, security

organisations, criminals and politicians to carry out actions outside and beyond the reach of the

law were spectacularly revealed (Hamdan, 2009, p. 166) in the aftermath of a car accident in

Sursuluk in November. In the vehicle was Abdullah Catli, an underworld hitman and leader of

the ultranationalist ‘Grey Wolves’, who was wanted by Interpol for many crimes especially

‘disappearance’ murders including some of those on ‘Cillers list’. Also in the Mercedes were a

former deputy police chief of Istanbul, the hitman’s mistress and a DYP Member of Parliament.

Only the politician survived, to be whisked away, but not before the association between ruling

party, police and hired killer was evident to the world (UNHCR, 2002, p. 17). There was huge

public interest and media coverage, but as Kaya explains;

.....despite all the parliamentary, judicial, and civil efforts to expose the extent of extralegal activities within the Turkish state and to identify those responsible, there were no significant findings or convictions in the end. Approximately a decade after the Susurluk scandal, a series of other shocking events has occurred in Turkey. Most of these events suggest the existence of a collusive organization within the Turkish state. Initial findings of the investigations and legal proceedings indicate that this organization is rooted mainly in the Turkish Armed Forces, and is responsible for a wide range of extrajudicial activities, including false-flag terrorist attacks. This collusive network is commonly referred to as “Ergenekon,” and the legal case investigating it “the Ergenekon Case.” (Kaya, 2009, p. 100)

86 Keskin (2008, p. 61) and several other sources describe this as occurring exactly a year later, but this appears based on a typographic error.

Turkey Page 201

The event can be understood as a ‘tipping point’ after which denial was no longer a

political option, although some were hardly shirking their tough stance. Ciller praised Catli

saying “those that fired bullets in the name of the nation will be respectfully remembered”: rather

undermining those who had tried to suggest that he had been ‘arrested’ by the minster and police

chief (HRFT, 2000, p. 39). Politicians variously justified what happened, blamed rogue elements

and obfuscated and censored the many official enquires that have occurred since, but that covert

and clandestine programmes occurred appears widely accepted (HRFT, 2000 foreword).

Unexpectedly, especially considering the Islamist cabinet, the Turks now made an

alliance with Israel that would prepare the ground for them to ‘squeeze Syria.

1997

In 1997 secret papers were published further demonstrating ‘state coercion, underhand

methods and suppression of Kurds’ (Hamdan, 2009, p. 159) and indirectly raising the question of

who has final authority in security matters in Turkey. One of the Kemalist legacies is that the

Turkish military establishment have a broad conception of their constitutional duty to protect the

state. How much they can be constrained by politicians in the security arena is uncertain and the

DYP/Refah coalition was particularly unlikely to truly try to bring the military to account on this

issue. The DYP were both generally in favour of robust action towards Kurds and themselves

thoroughly implicated. The intrinsically more critical Refah increasingly had its own

vulnerabilities. They wanted to avoid alienating a significant political support base, which was

sympathetic to the Hezbollah movement who had been agents of repressing the PKK. More

serious were the MGK’s increasingly voiced concerns about the governments Islamic initiatives:

with the ever present risk of a coup in defence of secularism, the Prime Minister would not have

wanted to hand the military more reasons to act. Whatever the political process this cabinet

would not seriously check the security apparatus and would preside over some of the most potent

actions taken by Turkey in the conflict.

The level of PKK attacks continued to decline in early 1997 with the international press

reporting that numbers in country had declined to 3000 (Fox & Young, 1999, p. 22) and 4000

beyond. Control was now reasserted in many areas which were visibly dominated by troops,

although PKK burnings and killings and damage to infrastructure continued in others. In several

areas the army had even begun ‘hearts and minds type construction programmes (Kinzer, 1997).

In April an operation in Tuncelli with 50k soldiers killed a mere 29 insurgents, but many more

evaded away ("Unwinnable," 1997) with the PKK now having split up into teams of only 15 to

be able to swiftly escape (Özdağ, 2003, p. 65). The fighting between the PUK and the currently

dominant KDP had continued in northern Iraq, with the PKK assisting the PUK by attacking

KDP supporters. In May the KDP sought to maintain its position of advantage and attacked the

PKK, calling for help from the Turks. In response, and to the indignation of Iran and Syria,


‘Operation Balyoz/Hammer’ launched over 30,000 troops across the border and into PKK camps

(Zehni, 2008, p. 32) whilst the KDP cleared the PKK from Arbil in bitter fighting which saw

increased use of suicide attacks by the latter and the Turks lose two helicopters to (allegedly

(Özdağ, 2003, p. 65)) Greek-supplied Stinger missiles. Whether 600 PKK at Zab camp and half

of the 4k in Iraq (Williams & Pope, 1997) were actually killed is moot, but this time, when the

Turks withdrew in July, they and their KDP allies left a much weakened PKK.87 Whilst wielding

its muscle externally the military was quietly doing the same at home politically.

Troubled by the continued Islamic initiatives of the Government, in June the military

warned the cabinet to return to a secular based approach. When this was ignored the pressure

was stepped up and in alarm and to ‘mollify the military’ the cabinet switched posts to replace

Erbekan with a moderate. The crisis Morgado (2006, p. 22) and others have described as a

‘postmodern coup’ had a hangover: the three party successor coalition was quick to formally

announce that ‘there was no ethnic problem’ (Marcus, 2007, p. 252) and maintained a robust

approach.

In September with the PUK-KDP fight still raging, the Turkish army mounted Operation

‘Dawn’ with 15,000 soldiers and 100 tanks crossing into Iraq again to attack PUK and PKK

positions (Fox & Young, 1999, p. 23; Özdağ, 2003, p. 65). After heavy fighting and PKK

casualties a ceasefire was negotiated before fighting flared briefly again in November. This time

when the Turkish army withdrew they left a force of about 1000 men in Iraq to assert control.

They had imposed a military defeat (Özdağ, 2003, p. 65) and destroyed much of the guerrilla

warfare capability of the PKK, but to achieve more they now turned their attention west towards

Syria.

1998

In early 1998 there was a Turkish army clearance operation in the Şırnak area and a

larger one across the Iraqi border with the KDP (HRFT, 2000, p. 119). That and ongoing minor

clashes continuing in the southeast and along the Iraqi border killed several tens of insurgents and

a smaller number of Turkish troops (Fox & Young, 1999, p. 23) whilst PKK attacks, mostly on

non military targets continued at much reduced levels within the southeast. In March several

senior PKK leaders surrendered to the KDP after internal disputes and Turkey and Iran signed an

agreement to work together against the PKK. In April a thirty man heli-raid captured a PKK

leader from KDP in Dohuk. Tellingly, the PM and politicians only heard about this after the

event (Kinzer, 1998). In the same month the army mounted an operation in the Bester Dereler

region claiming to kill 80 PKK and then launched the massive operation ‘Murat’ with 40,000

soldiers in Hakkâri province, destroying remote camps and caches but with an uncertain number

87 Figures for PKK casualties conflict, but several thousand killed is plausible.

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of casualties amongst the 450 insurgents (Koivunen, 2002, p. 101) The army claimed a hundred

PKK killed whilst the organisation admitted only 20 (HRFT, 2000, p. 119). However, that they

repeatedly failed to infiltrate back into Turkey, and had lost their capacity to carry out guerrilla

activities or mover long distances within Turkey was admitted by no less a senior figure than

Öcalans brother (Özdağ, 2003, p. 68).

Concurrently with these blows, Öcalan announced that the goal of the PKK was no

longer a separate state and made ceasefire proposals which were again ignored (Fox & Young,

1999, p. 24). The results of the massive operation indicated that PKK numbers in country were

reducing, and the Army concluded from Öcalan’s statement that the insurgents were on the

defensive, although attacks continued on civilians and economic targets, including oil wells (Fox

& Young, 1999, p. 24). In July operations were mounted near the Iranian border, with the PKK

mounting a successful attack in August, claiming 15 soldiers killed before another large cross

border operation with the KDP resulted in claims of 50 PKK dead but admission of the loss of 16

in a downed helicopter (HRFT, 2000, p. 120)..

In Washington in September the diplomatic move that Öcalan had feared now occurred:

Baranzi and Talibani signed a formal peace treaty agreeing to share tax income and political

power, and to deny northern Iraq to the PKK in return for US guarantees of protection against

Iraq. With Turkish and US military teams in the Iraqi Kurdish zone and offering support to the

now united PUK and KDP the PKK were forced to with draw to remote and inaccessible camps.

With the PKK now facing hostile forces in both Iran and Iraq the Turks turned their attention to

Syria and deployed its army to the border, demanding that it close the PKK camps and eject

Öcalan (Ergil, 2007, p. 326; Mango, 2004, p. 98; Pipes, 1998). The Syrians ‘blinked’ and agreed

that they would ‘cease any and all’ support of the PKK (Fox & Young, 1999, p. 24) and their

security forces began to close the PKK offices and surround their camps (Mango, 2005, p. 44).

Öcalan then began a tour in search of political refuge as the Turkish government

mounted a massive diplomatic effort to have him arrested. No European country ‘proved

prepared to either give him asylum or prosecute him’ (Zehni, 2008, p. 33). Sources do not

always agree on the route he took, most say that he flew to Greece via Cyprus but the Greeks

encouraged him to move on, but others suggest that he travelled through Iran. It is clear that he

found his was to Moscow where anti-Turkish Russian nationalists offered him support, but the

Government denied him permission to remain and so he decided to go to Italy where he had

support from leftists (Farrell, 1998). There he was arrested on arrival but asked for political

asylum, beginning a long legal battle during which he was kept under house arrest in a private

villa in Rome. This created a crisis for Italy which was under intense pressure from Turkey to

extradite him, but legally could not do so88. This was compounded by wide public support and

88 Italian law forbids extradition to countries with the death penalty.


many thousands of Kurds gathered there from across Europe (P. J. White, 2000, p. 181): even the

Italian Prime Minster made statements supportive of a negotiated solution to the conflict after

Öcalan announced that the PKK would reject violent means. The Germans, fearful of the

response of their Kurd population, declined to extradite and prosecute against their warrant on

which he had first been arrested. With no asylum resolution in Italy an increasingly paranoid

Öcalan began to look for another refuge (Fox & Young, 1999, p. 25; Marcus, 2007, pp. 274-278;

Zehni, 2008, p. 33)

1999

On January the 15th Öcalan flew in a PKK rented plane to Russia. The PKK believed he

would be accepted there, but Russian security held him for a week in Tajikistan before allowing

Greek sympathisers to fly him out of St Petersburg to Greece. The Greek government panicked.

Whilst sympathetic they feared the Turkish MGK statements that ‘any country that sheltered

Öcalan could be attacked’ (Marcus, 2007, p. 277) and sent his plane away to Belarus. When

arrangements failed he returned to Greece and was refused entry and sent to Corfu under guard.

Desperate to get rid of him the Greeks concocted a scheme where Öcalan would fly to Kenya and

be under the protection of the Greek ambassador whilst asylum was sought in an African

country. He was flown to Nairobi in early February and sheltered there, but as his presence

became known the Kenyans added to pressure to move him on, probably prompted by the US.

On the 15th February Greek officials told Öcalan that the Netherlands had granted him asylum

and a vehicle with Kenyan police arrive to escort him to the airport. In fact the vehicle was part

of an operation by the Turkish intelligence agency MIT, and when Öcalan boarded a private

plane he was ‘arrested’, seized and flown to Turkey (Marcus, 2007, pp. 274-278; Zehni, 2008, p.

33). As this happened, the Turkish army mounted raids against PKK camps in northern Iraq

(Fox & Young, 1999, p. 25).

As Turkish statements and the publication of images of a bound and dazed Öcalan

indicated, the Turks were ecstatic about having captured Öcalan, but the reaction of Kurds was

fury. Worldwide, anger was directed at those believed complicit in his capture with violent Kurd

protests at Turkish, Greek, Israeli and Kenyan diplomatic premises (P. J. White, 2000, p. vii).

Whilst dismayed at their leader’s arrest, it was expected that his looming trial would offer great

publicity for the Kurdish cause and others hoped that the Turks might seize the opportunity to

find political solutions. Öcalan’s initial statements were conciliatory, calling for peace, praising

the Turkish state and Ataturk and emphasising his Turkish identity, which caused puzzlement or

an assumption that they were false or due to his being drugged or tortured. Within Turkey the

PKK warned tourists to stay away with a threat of countrywide bombings and there were further

armed clashes in the southeast (Fox & Young, 1999, p. 25). Support for the PKK was evident.

In January the Government had moved against HADEP as a front for the PKK and arrested 139

Turkey Page 205

officials, but despite this in municipal elections in April voters ignored state harassment and

elected HADEP mayors in seven south-eastern regions, giving the party great influence (Marcus,

2007, p. 252)

In May as Öcalan’s trial loomed there was no letup in Turkish state pressure. The

Turkish army mounted a 10,000 man operation against mountain bases, the Government banned

the use of the work ‘Kurd’ in the media and a captured PKK leader was sentenced to death (Fox

& Young, 1999, p. 25). When Öcalan’s trial began he astounded most Kurds by stating his

allegiance to the state, calling on the PKK to lay down its arms, apologising to the Turkish

soldiers who had been killed and many similar comments. Notably he denied responsibility for

criminal activities or atrocities and did not strongly defend the armed struggle. Many began to

see his behaviour as an attempt to save his own life (Marcus, 2007, pp. 282-285) and despite

Öcalan’s posture, he was convicted and sentenced to death. There was a spate of violent attacks

to mark the sentence but there was now a division amongst Turkish Kurds between those who

wanted to follow his line and those wanting to fight on. As the automatic appeals process began

(which would eventually see his sentence commuted to life imprisonment when Turkey

abolished the death penalty) Öcalan issued further orders from prison, ordering the PKK to

withdraw from Turkey and senior leaders to hand themselves in. It is an indication of his stature

and the stamp he had imposed on the organisation that the PKK congress approved his ideas and

whilst many quit, a great many reluctantly obeyed (Marcus, 2007, pp. 293-296) with many of

those that attempted to withdraw to northern Iraq being pursued and ambushed by the security

forces (UNHCR, 2005, p. 18). In the PKK camps in Iraq 3000 insurgents remained loyal. This

ceasefire marks the end of the insurgency after which, in the period 1999-2001, fighting declined

significantly and PKK attacks against civilians and law enforcement personnel virtually ended

(UNHCR, 2005, p. 18).

In fact the HADEP and the cultural and publishing arms of the PKK kept the nationalist

cause alive and Turkey failed to undercut it with reforms. Those made were grudging and made

with an eye on EU membership and as the record shows, the PKK insurgency returned (Marcus,

2007, pp. 293-296).


In the fourth and final phase of the insurgency repression did not merely continue as

coded, but in two areas increased dramatically. The use of social discrimination and the law to

crush ethnic self-identification and Kurdish political expression simply continued longstanding

trends (despite token relaxations). However the ‘dirty war’ and area clearances reached a new

level. The murders of Kurdish activists, politicians, businessmen and defence lawyers became

widespread and systematic, with an already quiescent Turkish media cowed by assassinations of

journalists. It emerged that the perpetrators were indeed associated with a ‘deep state’ network


that somehow linked anti-Kurd elements from special elements of the security forces, with

Islamic and right wing radical organisations to kill in the name of the state (Gürbey, 1996, pp. 16-

18) and the ex-Prime minister could praise the people involved. Similarly the haphazard

clearances of villages in the previous phase now became large-scale, systematic and

comprehensive (Nigogosian, 1996, pp. 42-43), driving out those who would not demonstrate

loyalty to the state by joining the Korucu. At best this was done by demand at gunpoint, more

often by destroying the village by burning or bombardment, thus emptying at least 2300

settlements and driving between 300,000 and a million Kurds89 into the cities of western Turkey

or the slums of a few Kurdish towns, in effect ‘emptying the mountains’ (Marcus, 2007, pp. 221-

224).

During this phase there was evidence of some shifts in support, especially the growth of

the Korucu programme where an amnesty programme, the attractive salary and the inability of

the PKK to protect villagers against the military combined with coercion (Özdağ & Aydinli,

2003, p. 115). Similarly, the level of active support by the inhabitants of the southeast certainly

dropped. But the recruitment of an additional few thousand guards above the levels of the

previous phase must be compared with at least a similar number of recruits leaving the country to

join the PKK. There was no suggestion that ERNK found it any harder to recruit support in the

west, indeed support for the PKK was ‘carried to the cities by the clearances’ (Gürbey, 1996, pp.

16-18). Kurdish sources are unequivocal that the repression increased the level of support for the

PKK, however the state measures did succeeding in displacing that support away from the

guerrilla war in the mountains (so denying the PKK ‘material and information’) and to urban

areas where it was more exposed. An ex-PKK commander explained ‘the psychological

situation that created support for the PKK did not change but the state managed to change the

physical situation’ (Marcus, 2007, p. 223).

6.3 REFLECTIVE SUMMARY OF CONFLICT

This section has described in detail the progression of the conflict. The PKK launched

its insurgency against a distracted state with Syrian support and exploiting the strategic ‘havens’

caused by the Iran-Iraq war, but its Marxist agenda gained little popular support and it was

obliged to coerce its recruits. The hiatus caused by the Turkish ending of Martial Law and

shifting to a defensive strategy with attendant indiscriminate repression by the Jandarma allowed

the PKK to consolidate as a nationalist movement. Brutal treatment of all but the openly pro-

state and killing of those pro-Kurd successfully identified the loyalists but drove PKK

recruitment and massive anti-government protests. A new Turkish military strategy exploited

better training and equipment to combine effective conventional operations with a ‘scorched

89 Gürbey (1996, pp. 16-18) and some other sources say the figure is two million.

Turkey Page 207

earth’ policy that drove most of the Kurdish population from the mountains, denuding the PKK

logistic base and breaking their trajectory towards becoming a military challenge. However this

dispersed anti-state Kurds into Western Turkish cities and Europe, expanding the latent support

base for categorical terrorism. The PKK was further, but not fatally, weakened when persuasion

and military intimidation ended Iranian and Syrian support and the KDP were turned against the

PKK. It was Öcalan’s capture and his subsequent order to cease fighting that ended the

insurgency in the state’s favour. The case provides a rich picture for analysis.

7Chapter 7: Analysis of the PKK Insurgency in Turkey, 1984-1999

Introduction

This chapter describes the analysis of the PKK insurgency. It is organised into sections

that correspond to the six areas of case analysis outlined in chapter 3, as follows:

Checking the Validity of VTFS-based Case Selection

Comparison of State Robustness and Insurgent Support

Assessing the Strategic Impact of Constituency Support and its Shifts

Evaluation by Matrix-mapping Compliance Behaviour

Testing Candidate Factors for Influence on Support

Examining the Mechanisms of Reducing Insurgent Effectiveness

According to VTFS analysis both escalating repression and collective punishment were

employed by the Turks in all four phases but it was only in the second and last phases that

internal support for insurgents was reduced and they were unable to maintain or grow force size.

The crude inference is that these robust measures are not responsible for the gain, but a more

sophisticated analysis looks at the interaction between robust and other measures to determine

when they did ‘work’.

7.1 CHECKING THE VALIDITY OF VTFS-BASED CASE SELECTION

Because a defensible case selection is so important, as in the previous analysis chapter

before proceeding with the analysis proper the first requirement was to answer the check-

question:

Is the VTFS coding of the phase as effective robust action still valid?

VTFS cross-coding identifies that repression and collective punishment were applied

throughout the insurgency but internal support and recruiting could not be maintained in both

Phases II and IV, which thus provide sub-cases of ‘effective robust action’. There appears little

doubt that the Turkish approach was ‘robust’ and all accounts appear to agree increases in

repression and collective punishment until the end of the final phase. However, whilst it is

evident that internal support and recruiting were reduced during that last phase, this coding does

not appear entirely valid for Phase II.


It must be acknowledged that most accounts suggest that during Phase II the PKK

suffered a loss of ‘popular support’ associated with their killing of Korucu families and

‘conscription’. The coding is thus reasonable within the scope of the VTFS study, but

‘recruiting’ does not survive more detailed examination and ‘support’ is ambiguous.

Since there is agreement that the PKK was only a few hundred strong at the end of phase

I and suffered significant casualties and arrests during Phase II, without recruiting it would have

been, at best, a few tens strong at the end of Phase II. There is also agreement that the PKK had

actually slowly expanded, and had it not done so there would have been little foundation for the

subsequent explosion in membership. On the other hand, validity of the VTFS coding that

‘important support to the insurgents was reduced’ seems to depend on whether this describes

passive or active support. Accounts suggest that in Phase I the PKK constituency were typically

relatively neutral in their comments but in Phase II were often openly hostile to the conscription

(or kidnapping) of their sons. Thus the constituency’s ‘preferences’ may have shifted away from

the PKK. However, our ability to determine this from the record is handicapped by the fact that

whenever and however sons or daughters left to join the PKK, their community was at severe

risk of reprisal. This factor provided clear motivation to loudly and publically emphasise anger.

In reality, no matter that a family might resent that their son had been taken; they were still

effectively coopted into a low level of active support. They would now typically provide food

and not betray the organisation, and when their son was killed their anger would turn towards the

Turks. It seems quite possible that the bulk of whatever population had been ‘passive’ supporters

may have shifted to neutrality (i.e. hostile to PKK and the state) whilst concurrently a smaller, but

critical, set had shifted to ‘active’ support. This is at odds with theories of collective support

shifts on a linear spectrum and suggests a rich area for further research, whilst the VTFS coding

would presumably be correct by their own code book.

7.2 COMPARISON OF STATE ROBUSTNESS AND INSURGENT SUPPORT

This study concerns the relationship between robust state action and shifts in support. In

this chapter the focus is on Phases II and IV where the VTFS study has already identified

reductions in support and thus a ‘before and after’ analytic opportunity. We are therefore looking

for evidence of, and explanations for, reductions and then (the first time) recovery in important

internal support to the insurgents and their capacity to maintain force size at the three shifts

between two time periods:

Into Phase II: Mid 1986 to Mid 1987 (reducing internal support)

Out of Phase II: Mid 1989 to Mid 1990 (increasing internal support)

Out of Phase III and into Phase IV: January 1993 to Late 1999 (reducing internal support)

Turkey: Analysis Page 211

At these shift points we are particularly looking for shifts of state robustness. Before

then considering the impact of this on insurgent support we will also examine (in order to control

for) other major issues that may have impacted on popular support including possible negative

actions by the PKK.

7.2.1 Trends and Shifts in Blue Paramilitary Robustness

As is clear from the narrative description of the insurgency, the Turkish security forces

demonstrated a consistently robust approach to defeating the PKK, across many categories of

action. Any of these may have influenced support for the insurgents. However, even under

Ciller’s ‘egregious repression’ (IISS, 1997) many categories of repressive activity only changed

slowly or if they changed significantly this cannot be readily observed. As an example, the

randomness of arrests exposed many previously uncommitted Kurds to brutal treatment in jails

where concurrently they would be exposed to the commitment of PKK prisoners. This led to

some becoming supporters (Marcus, 2007, pp. 112-113), but shifts in ‘brutality’ or ‘randomness’

are not obvious. We shall therefore examine five forms of repression that did observably change

during the insurgency.

Punishment Engagement during and after Urban PKK attacks

Turkish security forces, particularly in towns and cities frequently ‘grossly overreacted

to actual or suspected PKK attacks and unleashed a barrage of fire on civilian neighbourhoods’.

In some cases they applied ‘indirect’ (and inherently imprecise) mortar or artillery fire and in

others TAF aircraft bombed or strafed90 buildings. This action may have occurred as a

punishment for suspected PKK sympathies, simply been reckless and disproportionate (and thus

would be illegal in internationalised conflict law), or may have been intended as a ‘method of

intimidation aimed at forcing villagers from their homes’ (UNHCR, 2005, pp. 38-39). It is

neither feasible to assess proportionality nor distinguish between ‘punishment’ and ‘forcing out’

motivations for attacks on smaller settlements that the security forces may or may not have

intended to evacuate. This category of robust action concerns destructive engagement by

extensive use of indiscriminate means within large villages or small towns which were not the

subject of evacuation orders and too big to plausibly be engaged in error. In these places the

action can be described as ‘reckless punishment’ and might be expected to influence the

behaviour of the victimised communities in terms of increasing or decreasing support for the

PKK.

The most significant incidents were in 1992 and 1993 at the transition between Phase III

and IV. In 1992 buildings were destroyed and civilians killed in Batman, Agri, Kulp Şırnak and

Kudi (Marcus, 2007, p. 176; Whitman, 1993, p. 8). In August the second year Yuksekova was

90 Using cannons or rockets


shelled causing 25,000 residents to flee (Fox & Young, 1999, p. 12) and in October Lice was

‘raked with fire’ causing heavy damage, killing 3091 civilians and most of the 35,000 residents

fled (Mango, 2005, p. 37; Marcus, 2007, p. 221). Some of these bombardments might be

justified by the Turks by the scale of the PKK attacks. They are judged ‘reckless punishment’ on

the basis of broad agreement that they did occur, international sources described them as

indiscriminate and the Turks made no apparent contemporary attempt to investigate: perception

is all.

Unidentified Political and Extra-judicial Killings and Disappearances in Custody

Of the up to 30,000 deaths (UNHCR, 2005, p. 16) attributable to the insurgency, it is

widely believed (van Bruinessen, 1996, pp. 21,22) in Turkey that many were clandestine and

covert killings carried out in the ‘interests of the state’, and evidence continues to emerge to

support this view. In this thesis ‘Unidentified Political Killing’ (UPK)92, refers to killings that the

security forces neither claim as their own actions nor credibly blame onto the PKK or another

group, thus may be widely believed to have been carried out on behalf of the state by Jandarma,

police special units, criminals, Hezbollah or ‘confessors’93. It excludes those killings officially

attributed to the insurgent groups or the Turkish security forces as the latter appeared very ready

to both claim the insurgents they had killed or condemn killings by the PKK or others.

The term ‘disappearance’ usually refers to persons last seen detained by the security

forces with the assumption that the victim has been tortured and killed: the inference is that

‘disappearance’ is necessary because custody was known and ambiguity avoids evident state

culpability. The UNHCR described the victims as mostly ‘Kurdish villagers with no history of

political activity, detained during the course of security raids on suspicion of giving food or

shelter to PKK members ‘... or arbitrarily seized in ‘reprisal of the deaths of soldiers in clashes

with the PKK’ (UNHCR, 2002, p. 14).

‘Extrajudicial killings’ refers to those believed to have been killed by the state in

circumstances where they were not posing a threat that would justify their death (i.e. combat).

The true identity of the perpetrator group is not particularly important for our analytic

purposes; rather what matters is the belief of the PKK constituency that the killings were state

acts. However the existence of a large class of UPK not followed by a significant homicide

investigation is itself revealing. As ex-prime minister Ciller’s praise of a dead hit-man (G.

Jenkins, 2008) and the successful later political career of Ciller’s architect of the ‘dirty war’

(Zürcher, 2004, p. 323) makes very clear, the highest levels of the Turkish state often had no

91 The Turkish figure - Kurdish sources give much higher numbers 92 UPK are those identified (usually in great detail) as such by the Human Rights Foundation of Turkey (HRFT). 93 This is a Turkish term for ex-insurgents who when captured were given the opportunity of ‘confessing’ in return for a reduced penalty but often also agreeing to clandestinely work against or kill former collegues.


qualms about the extra-legal assassination of those that it considered to be PKK members or

active supporters. But there was a much deeper strategy at work than ‘assassinating terrorists’.

The dogmatic Turkish denial of an ethnic dimension to the conflict seems so irrational that it can

obscure a very sophisticated understanding by Turkish security specialists of the vital role of elite

opinion formers in both mainstream and ‘pro-Kurd’ communities. These individuals were to be

intellectually persuaded to the states perspective if possible and co-opted if necessary. Those

whose views continued to undermine the states messages or arguments, regardless of whether

they were remotely supporters of the PKK, needed to be discredited or coerced into change

(Romano et al., 2006, p. 60). To coerce, the threat needed to be credible, which was where the

‘leveraged’ function of assassination came in: Sun Tzu’s notion of ‘kill one terrify a thousand’.

If this ‘coercive deterrence’ approach is effective, we might expect to see evidence of successful

intimidation in reduced support for the PKK.


Balta (2004, p. 25) has plotted the HRFT figures94 for relevant killings from 1987 to

2000 as shown at Figure 28.

Figure 28: Balta's Plot of HRFT Figures for 'Repressive' Killings

The plot clearly shows the surge in UPK and underlying rises in extra-judicial killings and

disappearances that peaked in 1993 but would have been evident to the Kurd constituency by

1992, although van Bruinessen (1996, p. 20) and Romano et al. (2006, p. 84) describe it as

having impacted by 1991. A similar trend is also seen95 in the smaller number of disappearances

reported to the UNHCR which surges in 1993 and peaks in 1994. Whilst both sets of figures

understate totals, they provide clear evidence of a killing phenomenon that had potential

‘deterrence’ proportions by 1993 at the latest, at the transition between Phase III and IV.

94 The HRFT figures for UPK are as follows 11 in 1998/1990, 31 in 199194 (van Bruinessen, 1996, p. 20) , 362 in 1992, 467 in 1993, (HRFT, 1998, p. 181) 423 in 1994, 116 in 1995, 113 in 1996, 65 in 1997 and 45 in 1998 (HRFT, 2000, p. 220). 95 UNHCR investigators describe disappearances as having started in 1990 and most occurring between then and 1995 (UNHCR, 2002, p. 14). In 1990, 1991 and 1992 there were a small number of reports each year. In 1993 there were at least 26, in 1994 there were 50 and in 1995 at least 35 (UNHCR, 2005, p. 38).


Local Beatings, Torture and Killings associated with Rural PKK attacks

The state response to attacks on security forces or settlements with Korucu ‘routinely

started by rounding up the inhabitants of any nearby non village guard communities and

torturing them in order to extract information about PKK movements, and government forces

sometimes committed massacres in reprisal for PKK attacks and abuses’ (UNHCR, 2005, p. 38).

Any village in the proximate area of a PKK attack was vulnerable to a Turkish attack (Latif,

1999, p. 290). The Korucu played a central role in this, initially as prime actors and later as the

‘cover’ for many of the security forces ‘uniformed gangs’ or counter-guerrilla units that

proliferated in the southeast.

The Korucu were established in 1985 as a pragmatic innovation that recognised both the

weakness of the conventional military for the developing conflict and a need for translation

(where locals could not speak Turkish), and for local information and security. It was established

under the interior ministry, thus linking to local bureaucratic and security structures. Recruitment

at first relied on ‘carrots rather than sticks’ and quite deliberately exploited and co-opted

established tribal structures to deliver a readymade organisation that would naturally oppose

PKK authority. It was launched amongst the most feudal border tribes where the social authority

of the chiefs was unchallenged and most threatened by the PKK. Payment of the guard’s

significant salary was via the chief or agah (who usually took a slice) who now gained a

‘legitimate’ private army, a ‘seat at the table’ of local authority and, critically, implied (and

sometimes explicit) legal immunity for past and present crimes that did not conflict with the

objective of defeating the PKK. A blind eye would be turned to the traditional mountain

occupation of smuggling, feuding and criminal extortion; indeed they would be positively

encouraged where they attacked ‘separatism’. Tribal identity and the agah’s social, economic,

and political power were greatly reinforced (Balta, 2004, pp. 3-8). In return, those settlements

with Korucu were co-opted to defend the state, limiting the ability of the PKK to coerce the

community and providing a ‘guide’ function to the military, particularly the army, who were

unfamiliar with the region. This was not merely an indispensible role of using local knowledge

to act as scouts in the mountains, but the fundamental one of identifying friend from foe amongst

indistinguishable peasants.

It was this last function that without any local oversight was so open to abuse. Certainly

the guards would have had a good idea about who locally was most likely to be sympathetic to

the PKK, indeed this was a structural protection against PKK infiltration. Had there been

effective mechanisms to target only those individuals actively and voluntarily supporting the

PKK then such support might have been deterred. However without oversight and amongst

communities with long established rivalries, blood feuds and hatreds the ‘licence to kill’ quickly

extended to those ‘guilty by association’ and eventually ‘if you are not with us you are against

us’. This would have happened anyway, but given the fear and anger generated by the PKK’s


campaign against the guards and their deliberate targeting of families, not just fighters,

polarization was quick and deep.

Beatings, Torture and Killings (BTK) occurred early in the PKK campaign, both as

impellance (for information) and deterrence, but a clear pattern only began to emerge as the

Korucu was formed in 1985 and only became endemic during the polarisation early in 1987 as

the guard system was institutionalised under OHAL arrangements and concurrently the PKK

systematically attacked it. From that time such violence variously increased or stayed constant,

and by the 1990’s the Korucu became ‘known for kidnapping, killing, torture and rape’ with

even the Government acknowledging they were ’the part of society that had most intensely been

involved in “dirty job”(sic) (UNHCR, 2005, p. 16). By 1992 the state ‘no longer had central

control of the guard system’. Because it provided ‘cover’ for clandestine and covert operations

and great opportunities for criminal profit, especially drug smuggling, it fell under the sway of

competing and sometimes corrupted security organisations (Balta, 2004, pp. 10-14). When the

state strategy changed and imposed compellance BTK simply continued overlaid on more

physically destructive measures. BTK became an evident phenomenon by 1986 at the transition

from Phase I to II and was constant after that.

Violence and destruction to coerce Evacuation or joining the Korucu

In 1991 the PKK was growing in popularity and had effective control of some areas.

The government started to reorganise the military and shifted its approach to deny the PKK its

logistic needs under a ‘Strategy of Environment Deprivation’ and ‘Scorched Earth’ tactics

(Hamdan, 2009, p. 88). The military would now ‘clear and hold’, and to do it they would ‘hold’

only communities that had demonstrated loyalty by joining the guard system and were

defensible: the rest would be evacuated. Joining the guard would be a ‘method of rural

pacification and a means of identifying the pro-state peasants’ (Balta, 2004, p. 3). Although the

legal framework to forcibly evacuate had existed since the creation of OHAL in 1987, (UNHCR,

2005, p. 16) as state policy it had been applied erratically and at the whim of junior commanders

(Koivunen, 2002, p. 154), notwithstanding the success of some Korucu at driving away disliked

neighbouring families or communities and seizing their land and houses. In 1991 Turkish Army

Lieutenant Yener Solyu was taken prisoner by the PKK and described his earlier actions to

persuade villagers to join the guards thus:

In the evening, we staged a mock skirmish with the guerrillas; we shot at windows and also employed heavy weapons against the village. Since the people depended on their harvest and animals, we destroyed their fields and slaughtered their beasts. If this did not help, we cordoned the village and sent in the counter-guerrillas. They would interrogate the people and then kill a few of them. Sometimes we torched their houses with flame-throwers or anti-aircraft rocket-launchers96 just for fun (Stein, 1994, pp. 65,65).

96 It should be acknowledged that the Turkish army was unlikely to be deploying anti aircraft missiles (the term used in the German text) into the region, and very unlikely to use such expensive munitions for harassment, so it


In 1993 the different government agencies formally agreed to explicitly apply coercive

methods as a part of comprehensive strategy that had begun in 1991 (Balta, 2004, p. 12). As

discussed above, government BTK grew during throughout the insurgency and increasingly was

associated with direction to join the guards. However behaviour such as indiscriminate use of

light weapons or burning of buildings, whether reckless, vengeful or coercive, was endemic and

did not change in a measurable way with the new policy. However there is much clearer

evidence in two new techniques which exhibit higher command direction: TAF bombing and

environmental burning. In 1992, 1993 and 1994 the TAF conducted air raids on villages often

using (indiscriminate) bombs rather than the more precise cannon or rocket fire which might

have been appropriate to support ground forces in contact. The later raids in the Ôirnak area

destroyed entire villages and killed dozens of civilians (UNHCR, 2005, pp. 38-39). The other

measure also started in 1991: systematic burning of orchards, crops and forests as well as

buildings to actively deny the PKK resources and concealment in and around villages and force

evacuation. Many villages were burnt completely, although in some those that joined the guards

did not have their homes burnt (Koivunen, 2002, p. 161). A study by van Etten et al. (2008, pp.

1786-1789) used an analysis of changes in satellite imagery over time to corroborate eyewitness

reports of such systematic destruction by the army in Tunceli province between 1991 and 1994.

The Turkish government long denied that such movements were forced by the state, insisting that

the PKK had been the perpetrators, but by the mid 1990’s even a Parliamentary commission

‘revised’ this argument to say that these villages were ‘unable to (be) protected so evacuated and

burnt to prevent from being used by PKK’ (Yüksel, 2007, p. 235).

The strategy of denuding the mountains of all but loyal population (and thus the PKK of

logistic support) by violently coercing villages in the southeast, particularly the small and

scattered ones above a certain altitude (Kocher, 2002, p. 8), ran from 1991 to 1995 with marked

peak effects in 1993-1994. It seems that those remaining were to some extent also ‘made loyal’:

the Bar Report stated that the reason for fewer evacuations after 1994 was that ‘the number of

villages that rejected becoming guards became less’(HRFT, 2000, p. 134). The implication

(from a pro-Kurdish source) is that most villages accepted being guards and this may seem

consistent with the Korucu numbers reaching 93,000 in 1994, and being capped97 there and that

in 1983 a new class of voluntary Korucu had been introduced, presumably as an economy

measure given a growing force (CORI, 2011, p. 9). It should be noted however, that not all98

is possible that if Stein recorded Solyu’s words correctly, that he was exaggerating for effect. However this description remains entirely consistent with the overwhelming pattern of repression and the issue is probably mis-translation. 97 This figure appears to have excluded ythe voluntary guards, hency higher figures later. 98 The villages likely to be cleared (Koivunen, 2002, p. 160) were;

close to PKK food and ammunition caches found bysecurity forces

suspected of providing logistic support to the PKK


villages were targeted for clearance (Koivunen, 2002, p. 160) and that some districts remained

that had (and still have) very small numbers of guards in spite of the fact that the PKK were very

active there (Kurban, 2010, p. 206). This shows that some areas remained resistant to joining yet

were not evacuated. This clear impellance by ‘Burning and bombing’ measure was applied as

large scale policy from not later than 1993 at the transition from Phase III to VI.

Deployment of Elite Close Combat teams

During the insurgency, the Turkish state adapted its large and mostly conscript security

forces to take the fight to the PKK (Barkey & Fuller, 1998, p. 148). In addition to modifying

some existing units, the army and Jandarma developed their own relatively large ‘elite close

combat’ formations which could conduct continuous coordinated operations, working on foot or

with helicopters in smaller independent groups in forests and mountains, often inserted by

helicopters. Both armed services and the police also created smaller ‘special purpose’ units from

which secretive clandestine operations detachments are said to be drawn.

The army built up from two (Latif, 1999, p. 245) to five99 commando brigades, better

known by their base towns, and from these professional officers are recruited into the Maroon

Berets (Bordo Bereliler) which approximates to the SAS. The large ‘Special Jandarma Forces’

known as the ‘Özel Tim’ and allegedly recruited from fiercely nationalist sources (van

Bruinessen, 1995, p. 5), provided ‘elite close combat forces’. Drawn from them was a

professional ‘special operations organisation’ (now JÖH100) whose units were (confusingly)

known as ‘Jandarma Commandos’ (now JÖAK101 and ÖJKB102) and who worked closely with

the Jandarma Intelligence Organisation (JİTEM) who specialized in ‘false flag’ operations

(McGregor, 2008). The national police also have a special purpose unit, the ÖHT103.

Recent court cases and investigations have given substance to popular belief in a faceless

Kemalist ‘deep state’ network associated with the clandestine ‘Kontrgerilla’, ÖHD104 and

‘Ergenekon’ organisations also linked with JİTEM, Hizbollah and criminal gangs (van

Bruinessen, 1995, pp. 5-6). The employment of the smaller organisations in covert and

close to areas of PKK activity

close to the border

where the inhabitants refused to join the village guards 99 The units are currently identified as: 1st Commando Brigade (known as "Kayseri Airborne Brigade”), 2nd Commando Brigade (known as "Bolu Mountaineer and Commando Brigade"), 3rd Commando Brigade (known as "Siirt Commando Brigade"), 4th Commando Brigade (known as "Tunceli Commando Brigade"), 5th Commando Brigade (known as "Hakkari Mountaineer and Commando Brigade") 100 Jandarma Special Operations (Jandarma Özel Harekat – JÖH) 101 Jandarma Commandos (Jandarma Özel Asayiş Komutanlığı - JÖAK) 102 Jandarma ‘Special Forces’ (Özel Jandarma Komando Bölüğü ÖJKB) 103 Özel Hareket Timi 104 Bureau for Special Warfare or Özel Harp Dairesi


clandestine operations including ‘black operations’ such as masquerading as PKK and then

punishing villager compliance (van Bruinessen, 1995, pp. 5-6) is inherently difficult to measure,

beyond the assessment of ‘disappearances’ and MUA considered already.

However the development and deployment of the larger close combat formations is well

described as is their reputation for employing robust measures. If repression influences support

then the deployment of such forces into an area might be expected to correlate with changes in

support. The Özel Tim had been newly formed in 1983 as the insurgency started and was

expanded into a Regiment in 1991and a Division in 1994. Two commando brigades were

withdrawn from the Southeast in 1986 and deployed to the Aegean and after 1987 the three still

South-eastern-based brigades were also employed far less than under martial law. However,

from 1992 the commando brigades started to be heavily employed both internally and on cross

border operations (Hamdan, 2009, p. 49). In practical terms this means that the Turkish ‘elite

close combat’ forces actually employed in the southeast increased by two units in 1991, about

seven units in 1992 and nine units in 1994. The elite teams therefore started to have an impact

during the middle of Phase III.

7.2.2 Trends and Shifts in other Blue Policy (Controls)

In order to control for other factors apart from robust paramilitary action, we will

examine other more benign measures that may have had an effect on support levels.

Improved Military Conduct

As described above, the Turkish military adapted and developed its forces for

counterinsurgency, especially increasing their ability to take the fight to the PKK in the

mountains and forests. Some sources also argue that the military improved its conduct,

‘introducing new sanctions for military indiscipline’ (Hashimoto, 2009, p. 22) or ‘emphasising

discipline within the ranks’ (Cornell, 2001, p. 34). These views suggest a misunderstanding of

discipline or the Turkish military, which in terms of organisational behaviour is probably one of

the most strongly disciplined in the world. The system is strongly hierarchical, endorsing

assertion of formal power distance and low tolerance of infractions in the context of an ingrained

collective morality and group loyalty (Siğri, Varoğlu, & Ercil, 2010). It is most unlikely that

there was an earlier failure to obey orders to be restrained, rather that such orders were either not

issued or issued in a manner conveying that compliance was not expected. As an economist

writer puts it; "Hearts and minds" are not in the Turkish army's training manual ("Springtime

means wartime," 1996). Human rights training was begun in January 1995, but only was only in

1997 and 1998 that there was a clear attempt by senior commanders to assert policy (Arbuckle,

1997; Latif, 1999, p. 284). It does seem that the army did then make attempts to modify its

unashamedly aggressive culture, but these were qualified by anxiety not to damage ‘combat


spirit’. It would appear that behavioural change of an order sufficient to reassure already fearful

constituents only occurred at the end of the campaign, after 1998, if at all. In other words any

meaningful change in conduct occurred at the very end of Phase IV.

Concessions and Economic Development Packages

The PKK insurgency is remarkable for the refusal of the influential Turkish military and

almost all politicians to countenance political solutions ‘until the war was won’. In this context

any concessions might well gain increased significance, although this would be tempered by an

awareness of a long history of Turkish failure to deliver. Since the Kemalist ideology denied an

ethnic cause to the conflict it favoured economic deprivation (alongside foreign interference) as

an explanation. Consequently at different times there were various initiatives such as ‘economic

development packages, including free state land, tax breaks and cheap loans,’ (Hashimoto, 2009,

p. 22). However with the exception of the GAP dams project these were so erratically managed

as to have had little benefit. The GAP project was widely associated with Özal’s plan to ‘denude

the southeast’ so was not likely to fare better in Kurdish eyes. The only concessions that might

plausibly have signalled improvements were the cultural and linguistic ones that were made at

the end of the 1990’s, and even there the case is weak. Concessions were only applied at the end

of Phase IV.

7.2.3 Trends and Shifts in other Red Policy (Controls)

Loss of support for the PKK may as equally be due to PKK behaviour as to that of the

Turkish state. There are three policies that were clearly unpopular and were mainly applied for a

limited period.

PKK Conscription

The PKK’s forced conscription of young men in the southeast was fairly clearly

bounded, being authorised at the 3rd congress in 1986 and rescinded at the 4th in 1990. After

that date coercion to join still occurred but there were now some avenues of avoidance that did

not risk execution (Marcus, 2007, p. 117). PKK conscription thus ran through Phase II.

PKK Killing of Korucu Families

The killing of Korucu families as a matter of deliberate policy started in 1987 and by

1988 its counterproductive effect was recognised by Öcalan who proceeded to denounce the

tactic as an error by renegade local commander. Village massacres were formally ended in 1990

(Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 110). Many civilians, including family members were still killed

after this but no longer ‘because they were the family of guards’. The killing of guard families

ran though Phase II.


PKK Killing of Teachers

The PKK began targeting teachers in 1987 (Marcus, 2007, p. 117) and continued doing

so at different intensities until 1995. The killing of teachers ran through Phase II and III.

7.2.4 Trends and Shifts in Insurgent Support

We shall now examine insurgent support. Examination of PKK numbers, and especially

recruitment flows, provides a reasonable indication of active constituency support. Turkish

sources generally appear to have underestimated105 (or deliberately understated) PKK numbers

and overestimated their casualties, whilst PKK sources stated the opposite and some adjustment

needs to be made. PKK attacks and their victims were recorded in great detail by the Turkish

media, and Human Rights organisations record some of these and other victims of violence by

name and other details, so attack rates are a useful check on figures: adequate PKK force levels

are a necessary though not sufficient enabler of increased attacks. However there are difficulties,

depending on whether one is counting members in Turkey, in the immediate region or

worldwide.

A key ambiguity arises because the PKK comprises both the ARGK, who are

permanently armed ‘guerrillas’ and the ERNK, which though un-uniformed and often part-time,

carried out most of the attacks in western Turkey and may have had up to 50,000 formal

members. There were also said to be over 300,000 sympathisers and individuals would move

between the categories, creating scope for confusion (Barkey & Fuller, 1998, p. 47; Gunter,

1997, p. 37). A further uncertainty arises from whether to count the large part of the organisation

outside the Middle East, mostly in Europe. Although high levels of non-Kurd support in Europe

had dropped after 1990 because of PKK violence there (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 104), the

organisation had a massive support organisation earning 100M USD a year from expatriate

subscription and crime (Morgado, 2006, p. 44). In Germany alone in 1993 they could assemble

up to 100,000 demonstrators (Gürbey, 1996, p. 24) and intelligence sources suggest that in the

1980’s of the half a million (often refugee) Kurds in Germany there were 10,000 active

supporters (Yavuz, 2001, p. 13) and of them 6900 became full PKK members (Latif, 1999, p.

91). For the purpose of evaluating support we will estimate the number of ‘armed fighters’.

105 As is clear from the fact that an aggregate of the numbers of PKK they claimed to have killed would have wiped the organization out many times over. The total number of PKK killed in the campaign was probably about 11,000 (Barkey & Fuller, 1998, p. 47)


Phase I

Prior to the start of the campaign and Phase I, the PKK appears to have had up to 400

members in Iraq and about 200 fighters in Turkey. It was having difficulty gaining support,

although its calculated strikes against Kurdish ‘oppressor’ landlords and tribal figures were

sometimes popular. We know that the reaction to the initial ‘symbolic’ attacks in 1994 was

mixed, with some inspired by such defiance and joining the PKK and many fearful of the state

reaction to the point that some attacked the group or informed on them. Öcalan later lamented

the PKK’s relatively slow growth saying that he ‘started with 300 guerrillas and only had 500 by

1988’ (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, pp. 108, 109) although later that year he would say he had 1500

(Özdağ, 2003, p. 31)106. It seems reasonable to suppose that losses balanced recruits for a time

before numbers slowly rose. Given that the PKK suffered casualties, arrests and desertions, we

might hypothesise minimum numbers where for each of those four years they lost 150 and

recruited 200, which seems to correspond to accounts of a capacity of perhaps 300 in the training

camps in Syria (Marcus, 2007, pp. 56-58). In any event, the PKK thus was both receiving

internal support and recruiting at low but increasing level until at least 1988, so coding by VTFS

for Phase I is correct.

Phase II

We do not have good figures for PKK numbers from 1987 to 1990, although Özdağ

(2003, p. 27) gives us 200 in the main Turkish area in the first year and Stein (1994, p. 30) cites

5,000 for 1989107. Estimations are important to understand support and fortunately we can

extrapolate backwards, knowing that there is consensus of an explosion of support in 1990

(Hamdan, 2009, p. 66). By spring 1991 Özdağ & Aydinli (2003, p. 111) estimated the ‘number

of armed militants’ at 12,000 however Marcus (2007, pp. 169-170) 1992 gave the ‘total number

in southeast’ the following year at a lower 10,000. We might therefore assume a very

conservative 8000 insurgents in 1991. There are limits on how fast an insurgent organisation that

is actually fighting can grow its fighting force, because of the logistic problem of moving recruits

to training and equipping resources or vice versa and noting that ongoing losses must be factored

in. A 500% annual increase is probably a realistic maximum108. This means that in 1990 the

106 Özdağ cites both 500 and 1500 on the same page 107 In the context of illustrating fluctuating estimates 108 Building a fighting force from scratch is ultimately constrained by the number of both junior leaders and instructors who can be developed. Whilst peasants can learn the basic skills for guerrilla warfare quickly, (the PKK planned around 45 days (Latif, 1999, p. 191)) leaning to teach those things or lead small teams takes time. Added to this, most Guerrilla organisations took care to provide extensive indoctrination and certainly the PKK aimed for three months. Even in ideal circumstances, with secure dedicated training facilities and professional cadre, it is likely to take an average individual, at best, about a year before he or she is ready to start leading and training others. This is because of the aggregate prior time to join, be trained and indoctrinated , deploy to the area of operations, spend time patrolling and guarding, contribute to logistic tasks including carrying supplies cooking etc, participate in offensive operations and learn the basics of the organisations doctrine and tactics. In the unlikely event that every member was capable of being a leader and knowing that small teams (manga) were


trained membership must have been at least 1600, a figure that broadly tallies with Marcus’s

(2007, pp. 156,160) observation that late that year there were ‘300 in the Bekka, hundreds along

the border in Iraq’. By this logic the figure for 1989 could theoretically have still been in the low

300’s. However for reasons discussed in the footnotes, sudden organisational expansions are

‘one off events’. If we stick with the 1991dramatic expansion being a 500% increase on 1600

insurgents in 1990, then a modest increase of 180% over each of the preceding two years would

give us 900 in 1989 and describe109 a steady build up that is not too great to contradict Marcus’s

(2007, pp. 142, 156-160) understanding that in those two years ‘losses were balanced by

recruiting’ and also accounts for the many young men forcibly recruited over those two years

who were not killed and did not escape. These figures are also sufficient to account for what

actually happened next: ‘after 1989 the PKK strengthened rapidly and had almost no problems

finding recruits, weapons or resources’ (Romano et al., 2006, p. 90). Such a massive expansion

of the PKK in 1990, with recruits from both urban and rural areas, could only have occurred on

top of already expanding ERNK and ARGK network. This also fits with anecdotal evidence that

support was already growing. Marcus herself records that when visiting Şırnak in 1989 a

schoolteacher told her: ‘In 1984, when the PKK started fighting, maybe 20 percent of the people

around here supported them ... But now, it's more than tripled thanks to the way the army and the

government treat the people here’ (Marcus, 1990, p. 42).

These are minimum figures, and the figures could be (and probably were) substantially

higher without undermining their inferences. Whichever calculation is favoured, the VTFS

coding specifying that in Phase II the PKK was ‘not able to maintain internal support’ is

doubtful. It may well be that indicators of popular support originally used by VTFS did show

important reductions. Marcus’s (2007, p. 142) general observation that in 1989 the PKK ‘had yet

to win backing of the people’ is doubtless valid. Certainly, PKK ‘conscripting’ of young Kurds

in Phase II was very unpopular and arguably is not active support. Nevertheless averaged over

each of Phase I and II, and probably averaged over each component year, the PKK was able to

slowly expand despite significant losses to arrests and casualties. Given that most recruits came

from within Turkey, this is strong evidence that for practical purposes popular support was

increasing.

of 15 fighters, the theoretical maximum expansion rate is 1400% per year for the first year and about 700% thereafter, allowing for the need to populate command, support and logistic functions within the growing organisation. Whilst clearly reducing ‘cycle’ time or increasing team size have obvious theoretical benefits, these also start to increase the loss rates that so far we have ignored. In practice, even without participating in operations a proportion of members will fall by the wayside for many reasons, and once in a conflict there will be casualties (indeed at times these were so high that an insurgent had an average lifespan of six months). These will also tend to be amongst those who are leaders or have the potential to be. Of those who survive, many if not most, are not actually capable of leading or instructing effectively. Brief reflection on the arithmetical impact of even fairly small loss rates will reveal that a theoretical expansion rate of 500% is very much at the top of the possible range. 109 500 in 1988 x 180% = 900, 900 in 1989, x 180% = 1600


Phase III

As has been mentioned, there is consensus that in Phase III there was what Hamdan

(2009, p. 66) called the ‘unimaginable growth of the PKK’ from 1990 associated with the ‘string

of “Serihildans” (Kurdish uprisings) spread over 1990, 1991 and 1992’. The first of these

massive popular protests in March 1990 was associated with the funeral of PKK members and

the Newroz festival, both of which were undoubtedly manipulated by the PKK. Some analysts

have emphasised the spontaneous anti-Turkish (rather than pro-PKK) character of the

demonstrations and highlighted Öcalan’s failure to encourage the popular movement lest it

undermine his authority. However the events did occur in conjunction with major, if ineffective,

PKK attacks and can be understood as evidence of strongly growing support (Romano et al.,

2006, p. 97) and recruitment (Marcus, 2007, pp. 142-143) despite or because of brutal repression

of the demonstrations. By the end of Phase III in 1993 Öcalan claimed the ARGK was 15,000

strong (Gunter, 1997, p. 38) with analysis by both Latif (1999, p. 138) using contemporary

sources and Eccarius-Kelly (2010, p. 3) with the benefit of more recent work accepting that this

is of the right order, whilst acknowledging that very uncertain figures of up to 50,000 more have

been used when the ERNK are included (Cline, 2004, p. 327). There is thus consensus of

massive support and recruitment in Phase III, as coded by VTFS, with ARGK growth from not

less than 16,000 to at least 10,000 and possibly as much as 15,000.

Phase IV

The beginning of Phase IV was at the peak, or close to it, of PKK strength and

recruitment, indeed the Turkish Chief of the General Staff estimated that at that time 10% of the

population of the Kurdish regions were active sympathisers (Gürbey, 1996, p. 24). The PKK

claimed to have ‘liberated zones’ in which their authority was accepted and they fought in units

of up to a 1000 (Gunter, 1997, p. 38), a claim somewhat supported by the Turks subsequent

actions. Whilst most sources give or infer110 a PKK/ARGK strength of the order of 10-15,000

(Latif, 1999, p. 138) in 1993, it is from this time that disagreement begins. The government said

the PKK had 10,000 ARGK and 50,000 ERNK in 1994 (Mater & Ayse Gul Enloe, p. 310)

Öcalan and PKK sources claim that the membership had doubled to 30,000 by 1994, which

might be given some credence because it was made in the context of admitting that this was

‘short of the 50,000 needed for a strategic result’ when there were other indications that the

‘PKK were having difficulty expanding and were turning away recruits’. By 1996 he would

claim 35,000 “Fighters” (Gunter, 1997, p. 38) a figure which some researchers such as Morgado

(2006, p. 42) accept and others, probably also using Kurdish sources, round down to 30,000

110 By not describing change from an earlier figure.


(Nigogosian, 1996, p. 39). Figures apparently based on Turkish army sources111, including those

of Marcus (2007, p. 249) and Latif (1999, p. 138), describe a fall in numbers between 1994-1996

of several thousand from their more modest peak of 10,000 leaving totals below 3,000 in

Turkey and 4,000 in neighbouring states. This is clearly associated with the Turkish military

offensives in 1994 and 1995 which the Turks believe had stopped recruiting in the southeast by

1996 (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 116), however, Marcus also says that after these losses,

numbers stabilised and the PKK still retained its ‘dominant political position’. The Turkish

military clearly did not feel that they had reduced the PKK or their numbers were falling in 1994,

because Maj Gen Pamukoğlu112 (2003, p. 18), considered an aggressive leader, would write in

his memoirs that army commanders considered that their control of the region in 1994 was “a big

nothing”. Other, international press, sources tend to a compromise figure just above the Turkish

one, identifying a decline in internal PKK numbers to 3,000 (which would give at least similar

numbers in neighbouring countries) not occurring until 1987 (Fox & Young, 1999, p. 22). The

key point, as will become evident is that even in the most optimistic Turkish estimate PKK

numbers did not begin to drop until after 1994, and may have still been rising.

Before proceeding, the difference between sources for PKK numbers deserves comment.

Part of the confusion flows from whether ERNK are counted. The Turkish army operations were

focussed on the ARGK in the mountains and across the borders (with the Jandarma on the

villages and the National Police on the cities), which even Kurdish sources have sometimes given

as only 10,000 strong (Gunter, 1997, p. 37). PKK figures for the southeast might still include

the ERNK in the towns there, whilst Turkish army figures might not. Certainly as the PKK

shifted its focus to attacks in the west the ERNK took a lead role, so logically Öcalan might call

them “fighters”. It is also significant that whilst Turkish army casualty figures were often

painstakingly precise, as has been noted earlier, their numbers for PKK casualties are often

wildly optimistic. This is particularly for ‘external’ operations as illustrated by the massive

operation ‘Celnik’ in 1995. This took place both outside and inside Turkey, with estimates of

PKK progressively killed in the ‘clear and hold’ actions southeast being given as many tens:

figures which appear agreed. Conversely the raids into Iraq saw initial Turkish claims of

thousands of PKK casualties which were eventually113 rounded down to several hundred after it

was realised that the insurgents had evacuated in advance. This PKK escape and subsequent

regrouping was put beyond question shortly afterwards by their assembling a force of 2.5k to

attack 20 KDP bases and continue to fight them for the rest of the year (Gunter, 1996, pp. 50,

111 For 1996: 2.6k in Turkey, 2.5 - 3k in Iraq, 400 in Iran and 400 in Syria and Lebanon (Latif, 1999, p. 138) 112 MAJGEN Osman Pamukoğlu was commander of the Hakkiri commando Brigade from 1993 to 1995. 113 A partial explanation is that inside the country the Turks ‘owned the cleared ground’ and could count the bodies at leisure, whilst in Iraq they were more mobile. Another factor is that the objectives in Iraq were camps in and around settlements with many who were not PKK fighters present. The initial TAF air strike inflicted casualties which were found when the camps were assaulted and initially assumed to be fighters.


57,59). Although there was a dramatic drop in numbers after 1994, it levelled out again,

demonstrating some continued recruitment and active support, noting that in 2003 there were still

10k PKK insurgents in Iraq (Cline, 2004, p. 327). Öcalan acknowledged that there was a

decrease in recruits in this period, attributed to the PKK ‘failures of 1995’ importantly indicating

both that it was military failures that stopped recruits coming and that this did not really impact

until late in 1995 at the earliest. From the above we can see that there was a dramatic drop in

numbers that is consistent with an inability to maintain internal support or recruit in Phase VI, as

coded by VTFS. However this decline did not occur until after 1994.

Numbers as an Indication of Active Support

The above examination suggests absolute minimum figures of PKK strength which may

be plotted over time, with the phase changes, as at Figure 29. Clearly, numbers ‘explode’ in

1990, peak between 1992 and 1994 with strong numbers until 1995. This plot appears to be a

reasonable proxy for minimum levels of active support: it generally fits the narratives of the

insurgency already recounted. 114 In all probability the actual numbers were higher and the

decline was slower, as shown by the dotted line. The plot may also be compared to other

measurable ‘effects’ related to support such as PKK attacks, Korucu recruitment and village

clearance. This will provide both validation and new insight and we will return to these shortly.

However before this we should compare the support plot to the shifts in Blue

paramilitary robustness examined earlier.

Figure 29: Authors Estimate of Absolute Minimum Numbers of PKK Fighters during the Insurgency

The use of BTK in response to PKK attacks increased throughout the insurgency to

become endemic, however it is clear that this was not associated with a reduction in active

114 Noting that VTFS argues a decline in popular support in Phase II, whereas this thesis suggests that active popular support must have increased at least slightly, as already discussed.

0

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1980 1985 1990 1995 2000

Ph III Ph IV Ph I Ph II


support to the insurgents. More specifically, a small surge at the transition from Phase I to II is

not associated with any specific change in active support; however we know that during Phase II,

BTK encompassed most of the repression being experienced. Whilst this BTK could

conceptually be associated with either inhibiting otherwise greater support or generating low

levels of active support, the concurrent gradual increase in both BTK and support suggests BTK

was counterproductive. This view is reinforced by the next comparison. ‘Reckless punishment’,

‘unidentified political and extrajudicial killings’ and ‘burning and bombing’ all increased

significantly not later than the transition between Phase II and III. They thus either precede or are

concurrent with the ‘explosion in PKK support’, which is strong associational evidence that

repressive measures engender opposition. The progressive Blue use of elite teams increased by

an order of magnitude only a little later, in the middle of Phase III, which might thus be

associated with the levelling off of support. The Blue control measures, ‘concessions’ and

‘improved military conduct’ only delivered change late in Phase IV and we cannot draw

conclusions with the existing data. The red control measures of PKK conscription and killing of

Korucu families ran through Phase II and are so associated with a slow increase in active support.

There are two main interpretations, either these actions inhibited an expected increase in active

support (as Öcalan himself later proposed), or they made little materiel difference to a slow

growth in active support caused by factors such as an alien Marxist agenda. Finally the killing of

teachers which ran through Phase II and III cannot reasonably be associated with any particular

trend.

PKK Attack Rates

A confirmatory indication of PKK effective strength might be gained from the level of

attacks since strength is a necessary if not sufficient function of their execution. The repression

of the violent uprisings in 1992 and the defeat of PKK attempts to conduct larger scale operations

led to their shift to smaller groupings and softer targets: killing those working for the state

(Marcus, 2007, pp. 169,219; Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 113). The next year they increased their

efforts, especially targeting teachers (Zürcher, 2004, p. 318). In 1994 the 3rd PKK congress

endorsed this approach with a declaration of ‘all out war’ in the western cities (Özdağ & Aydinli,

2003, p. 115; van Bruinessen, 1995, p. 18): there was an explicit intention to continue to hit

‘civilian’ targets that ultimately could not be sustained. Metelits (2010) analysed Uppsala

Conflict Data 115 to show how annual civilian fatalities surged and hit a peak of around 400 in

1983, with about 200 the year before and after. The large numbers of deaths for these years

happened despite there having been a PKK ‘ceasefire’ in 1992-1993. The rising losses reflect a

115 Uppsala Data for estimated civilian casualties inflicted by the PKK: 1989 about 75, 1990 about 60, 1991 about 50, 1992 about 200, 1993 about 400, 1994 about 200, 1995 about 100, 1998 about 75 and 1999 about 25 (Metelits, 2010, p. 143)


‘successful’ return to ‘soft targets’, however the 1994 decline is evidence that the Turkish robust

measures in the cities and field domination strategy in the mountains was putting the PKK on the

defensive and disrupting their stated strategy as argued by many international observers (P. J.

White, 2000, p. 173).

This interpretation is more evident from analysis of ‘START’ data ("Global Terrorism

Database," 2011) which distinguishes PKK attack casualties by categories of civilians, police,

military and government officials. The plots for the target categories over time as shown 116 at

Figure 30 would clearly aggregate to a profile similar to Figure 29, confirming an increased

capability to conduct attacks corresponding to increasing numbers, incidentally undermining the

proposition that repressive violence deters recruitment and suggesting the opposite. There are

other instructive patterns present.

Figure 30: Casualties inflicted by the PKK Attack by Type ‐ Source Data GTD, START Maryland

One pattern is shared: there is a concurrent drop in non-police casualty categories in

1991 which may be explained by both the disruptive impact of the beginning of the ‘dirty war’

and, probably more greatly, by the distraction of the post Gulf war flight of Kurdish refugees to

the Turkish border and the consequent political manoeuvring by all parties. However, more is

revealed by plot differences. Looking at civilian (contrasted with officials) casualties we see a

116 Note that this database only reflects incidents that good data is available for, and for simplicity the diagram has left out several other categories of non-military targets than ‘civilian’ and ‘official’ that trend the same way, which together explains why the totals for casualties (killed and injured ) are less than the Uppsala fatality figures. These figures are thus only suitable for trend analysis rather than absolute use.

Police

Military

Civilians Officials


drop off after the decision to stop targeting villagers in late 1988 and a surge associated with the

1992 uprisings before a steep decline that bottoms in 1995 (which aligns with Metelits-Uppsala

figures). If we track the police casualty plot we see it has least decline in 1991, perhaps reflecting

ERNK in urban areas (who mounted many attacks on police) being less affected than by the

border crisis than the ARGK. The plot accelerates with the surge of popular action in 1992 and

drops dramatically in 1993 as the Turkish repression bit, suggesting the PKK was ‘on the run’

and rarely able to mount attacks against the police. A comparison of military with police

casualty rate gives further insight. We can see an expected increase in casualties above that of

the police after the PKK switch from targeting villagers to targeting the military in 1990, and

again a steep rise in 1992. What is different is that in 1993, compared to police casualties the

military rate continues to rise slowly for a year until 1994 before a similarly precipitous decline.

This conforms to what we know about the robust Turkish actions: systematically arresting or

killing the PKK in towns and driving away the ‘less-loyal’ from villages, so forcing the

insurgents further into the mountains where they could only reach military targets. This

interpretation is reinforced by data showing that most of the attacks are with firearms and that the

much smaller number of bombings declines faster than firearm attacks: very much the pattern

one would expect from a withdrawing PKK force conducting opportunist ambushes and surprise

attacks.

A less differentiated plot of aggregated police and army casualties, of all kinds, not just

from PKK attacks, derived from official data at Figure 31 gives different insights. It does not

show a drop in 1991, so confirming a reduction in PKK attacks but not in military operations or

clashes. Aggregate security force casualties are otherwise consistent with the attack casualties,

and a relative increase in wounded to dead is also consistent with the PKK losing the initiative.

Figure 31: Aggregated Police and Army casualties 1984‐2003 Source Ergil (2007 p 350)


Small differences between the various plots mainly serves to give us confidence in the

trends. The actual value of them is that they not only show, as we might expect, that attacks

declined in 1994 as the PKK shifted117 to the defensive by March (Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p.

115), but that this happened before PKK numbers had been greatly eroded and before support

dropped to the point that recruits had stopped flowing. We should recall that even the ever-

optimistic Turks thought that PKK recruiting did not decline to ‘minimum levels’ until 1996

(Özdağ & Aydinli, 2003, p. 116).

Korucu Recruitment versus Clearance

We might also be able to get an indication of support for the PKK by using recruitment

for the Korucu as a ‘reverse proxy’, although it is not an entirely appropriate indicator for reasons

that will be discussed. There are also insights to be gleaned by comparing the timing of this with

that of village clearances: it does not coincide as one might expect.

A Diyarbakir Bar Association Report stated (HRFT, 2000, p. 134) that by 1997 over 3k

villages had been evacuated118, with nearly two-thirds happening in 1994. These figures align

with OHAL statements (Yüksel, 2007, p. 235) as well as UNHCR (2005, p. 32) figures showing

the majority of forced evacuations taking place between 1993 and 1995 accompanied by

destruction, killings and rapes. The drop off in evacuations after 1984 at least partly reflects a

diminishing pool, particularly if one considers that actual migration and evacuation was higher

than acknowledged. Government figures admit only about 400,000 people and 3,500

settlements119 cleared, but a Turkish academic study suggests up to 1.2 million (Yüksel, 2007, p.

235) fled whilst the Migrants Social Assistance and Cultural Organisation (Göç-Der) suggest 3.5

million departed, and a former minister of state said 6,000 settlements were evacuated (HRFT,

2000, pp. 132,134) of an estimated 12,000 in the region (Criss, 1995, p. 21). We have more

detailed figures available for settlement evacuations120 in one province at Figure 32

Importantly, the peak conforms to the rise in PKK numbers, disproving that proposition

that repression deters insurgent recruitment: the impact of the Turkish evacuation operations in

1983 and 1984 is again evident. In some more remote high-altitude villages no choice was given,

but mainly the security forces gave the stark option of ‘join us or go’: obviously many fled.

This plot can instructively be contrasted with that of the approximate numbers of persons

joining the Korucu over the same years at Figure 33121. Again we see a peak presumably related

to the Turkish offensive. However if we compare the two figures there is a displacement or lag

117 Forced by the ‘field domination’ strategy and increasingly robust measures applied from the year before. 118 923 Villages between 1989 and 1993, 1800 in 1994, 195 in 1995, 175 in 1996 and 118 in 1997: total 3211 (HRFT, 2000, p. 134; Koivunen, 2002, p. 165) 119 Acknowledging that differing definitions of settlement size may lead to some disagreement in figures. 120 This does not include the many cases where some but not all inhabitants were driven away. 121 Including unpaid ‘voluntary’ village guards later in the period, synthesized from multiple sources.


where a first peak in joining numbers occurs about a year after peak evacuation, and there is

another peak two years later.

Before considering the ‘lag’, two aspects deserve our attention. Firstly, despite eight

prior years of erratic brutal intimidation, many villagers had not yet previously succumbed to

coercion but did so now. This is largely explained by a shift from locally-driven recruitment and

coercion along tribal lines to a clear policy of systematic state coercion (Balta, 2004, pp. 10-18).

However, some villages in reputedly pro-PKK areas continued to refuse to join and were not

forcibly evacuated: other considerations must have applied and the ‘join or flee rule’ was not

absolute. As Kalyvas (2006) shows, violence in civil conflict is very often driven more by

hidden local alliances, disputes and ‘profit’ than strategic factors. Secondly, huge numbers of

villagers left rather than join the guards despite a very real risk of lethal retaliatory violence,

usually losing their land and knowing the difficulties of Kurd ‘refugees’ in western Turkey. This

choice, examined in detail by Balta (2004) indicates deep-seated opposition and lack of trust in

the state and/or fear of the PKK.

Figure 32: Number of Settlement Evacuations in Siirt Province by Year, Based on HRFT 2000 p 140

Figure 33: Korucu Numbers 1984‐1998 – Based on Koivunen 2002 p 158

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There appear to be three explanations for the ‘lag’ in this situation. First, the lag reflects

a sampling error because the Siirt evacuation was carried out much earlier than the mean for all

villages. This is unlikely because IHD data for the entire region, although not covering as long a

span, clearly shows that the peak of clearances was also in 1993/1994 as shown at Figure 34.

Furthermore, IHD clearance by province data122 shows many other, and larger totals for,

evacuations in other provinces before 1993.

Figure 34: Evacuation of Villages in the Southeast ‐ IHD Figures (Jongerden 2003 p. 82)

Second, the villages that were cleared at the beginning of the campaign were the most

PKK–influenced (sympathetic or fearful) ones and so the security forces secured very few

recruits until they shifted attention to more loyal communities. This is plausible insofar as we

know that stated factors for selection were geographic (altitude and remoteness) and chosen

precisely because influence was thought to be related to inaccessibility. However, not only is it

unlikely that matters were this ‘neat’, this pattern is also in absolute contradiction to

counterinsurgency doctrine which builds from strength (oil spot strategy) and because we know

the Kurucu were first established in loyal villages and then sought to coerce their neighbours.

The main problem with this explanation is that the time lag is too great. Nearly all village

evacuations were complete by 1994, but the recruitment did not climb until the next year.

Third, the population of the villages that did not flee, yet did not wholeheartedly join the

guards, managed to ‘negotiate’ a compromise of some kind, presumably often involving a token

recruitment and joined the guard later when the outcome of the insurgency was clearer. The two

surges in guard recruitment do not correspond to known increase in repression but they do

correspond to periods when PKK had suffered military reverses and withdrew and the perceived

122 ‘Breakdown of some of the evacuated villages and hamlets are as follows: "Diyarbakır (121), Şırnak (117), Hakkari (108), Siirt (83), Mardin (68), Batman (29), Bitlis (28), Van (36), Bingöl (9), Muş (7) and Erzurum (2)". More than half of those villages were evacuated in 1993.’ (HRFT, 1994, p. 64)

0

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threat of PKK retaliation might well have subsided. This strongly suggests the third explanation

applies.

The vital point is that whilst coercive evacuation operations removed the ‘population’

resource base from the mountains they generally did not shift people’s allegiance. It was the

removal or reduction in the risk of PKK retaliation that allowed that.

More generally we can say that progressively in Phase IV the Turks were being

militarily successful, gradually eroding the PKK and preventing recruits reaching it or being

trained: but their intense repression did not deter Kurds from seeking to join.

7.2.5 Conclusions of Robustness/Support Comparison

From the above examination of robustness and support we can draw a number of broad

observations:

A Turkish escalation of robust measures including ‘reckless punishment’, ‘unidentified

political and extrajudicial killings’ and ‘burning and bombing’ all appear to have

increased active support.

A huge number of Kurds refused to be coerced into loyalty to the state and fled at

immediate risk to their lives, abandoning all they had and accepting an uncertain and

desperate future.

An increase in beatings torture and killing in response to PKK attacks was not associated

with a reduction in active support to the insurgents, and appears to have generated low

levels of active support.

The Korucu programme succeeded in polarising the PKK constituency, and inhibiting

the PKK, but created a force no longer fully under state control.

Coercive impellance succeeded in evacuating the population from the mountains and

shifting a residue to a minimum ‘token’ or ‘compromise’ loyalty.

Villagers only joined the guards in large numbers after the local threat from the PKK

was evidently reduced.

Turkish coercive deterrence and suppression (including collective punishment) of

clandestine support did not sufficiently succeed.

Clearance of the mountain environment and population denied the PKK logistic support.

The Turkish use of elite close combat teams in large numbers is associated with the

slowing of active support for the PKK and also appears to be responsible for reducing

their capability at a faster rate than this.

The pattern of the decline of PKK attacks in relation to active support demonstrates the

effectiveness in robust measures in reducing PKK capability but not support.

The PKK’s ending of both conscription and killing of Korucu families was associated

with increasing active support rates.


7.3 ASSESSING THE STRATEGIC ROLE OF SUPPORT AND ITS SHIFT

This section asks two questions of the case:

How did popular support influence the outcome and duration of the conflict?

How was Red and Blue support broadly shifted by Blue actions and policies?

The analytic construct of ACV requires identification of strategic objectives, targets and

levers and relating these to one or more ‘support battlegrounds’ within which robust action

operated as an influence. There were at least three Kurdish ‘support battlegrounds’: the

population in the southeast, the internal refugees in the western cities of Turkey and the overseas

refugees. The PKK origins were Marxist and it included non-Kurds, especially in the early years.

It originally intended to develop support amongst leftists in the non-Kurd population, but this

foundered as the PKK attacked its rivals in the early years. For practical purposes, the PKK

made no inroads into the support of the non-Kurdish population for the state: the ‘domestic

constituency’ was irrelevant.

The insurgency’s objective was the reduction of state political control in the southeast,

originally articulated as independence, this later was articulated as autonomy, but in either case

the ‘strategic influence target’ was the Turkish government. In Turkey this actually meant both

the politicians and, perhaps more importantly, the senior leadership of the military who not only

determined much of the conduct of the conflict themselves, but actively obstructed and disrupted

political approaches on the grounds of their ‘constitutional duty to protect the indivisible state’.

Though the PKK did not give sufficient attention to this factor, they had no illusions that any

government would yield easily or that political-coercion within Turkey would produce results.

They adopted a Maoist Popular Guerrilla Warfare (PGW) strategy with its graduated steps of

building popular support, imposing increasing costs by guerrilla tactics and an eventual shift to

military confrontation: this was not expected to defeat the massive Turkish army outright, rather

to create a military stalemate and then extend this until the Turks could not sustain the cost.

However in the early 90’s, prompted by an explosion in support, and to capitalise on popular

uprisings the PKK shifted to directly confronting the Turkish military and attempting to retain

control of terrain before they had the 50,000 insurgents they had said they would need, and

earlier than planned. By doing this just as the army capability was improving the result was

military defeats and a return to guerrilla and ‘terrorist’ warfare, although not at first any loss of

popular support.

In the principal support battleground of the southeast, the conflict started with a large

neutral population, a smaller pro-state population and a tiny group of PKK supporters. The

growth of this latter group was very slow, was certainly initially inhibited by memories of past

repression and may have been deterred by initial state violence in response to early PKK attacks.


From a psychological decision-making theory point of view they were not yet in the ‘domain of

losses’ so were averse to the risks of supporting the PKK. Another factor inhibiting support was

PKK conscription and killing of Korucu families, although this was somewhat offset by the

inspiration that PKK resistance to Turkish oppression represented. The relative impact of these

multiple factors is difficult to determine. However the 1990’s explosion in popular support was

clearly driven by the state’s concurrent indiscriminate violent repression of both PKK and any

other expression of Kurdish identity. After the Turkish army defeated PKK direct confrontation

it gradually pushed the PKK in the southeast back into the mountains and across the borders by

denying it local logistic support as well as reducing cross border flows. This was achieved by

removing the cover, food producing potential and population of the mountains, including both

PKK supporters and the neutrals. The ‘join us, flee or die’ coercion did force many to change

sides and so increased the local proportion of nominal state supporters, but it did now put

villagers into the psychological ‘domain of losses’ where they were more likely to take risky

decisions. It is highly revealing that huge numbers of Kurds accepted the risks and costs of

leaving their homes rather than make such a shift and is indicative of persistent sympathy for the

PKK amongst the whole population.

Pro-state support in the southeast grew more rapidly in the early part of the insurgency.

A loyal core of Kurdish and non-Kurdish citizens was joined by tribal groupings whose leaders

were either threatened by the PKK or saw the advantages of joining the Korucu. Those outside

of these groupings mostly tried to stay neutral but were sometimes coerced successfully, however

in early stages the guard was ill equipped and proved vulnerable, with many of these reluctant

converts later trying to pull out as the PKK became stronger (and offered an amnesty). Under the

systematic coercive programme that destroyed the ‘neutral space’ many communities did shift

their nominal loyalty to the state by joining, but a lag in the recruitment to the Korucu suggests

that a true shift only occurred once the state was truly ascendant.

The expanding Kurdish ‘refugee’ population in the western cities, mostly impoverished,

discriminated against and living in makeshift housing, slums or crowding in with relatives were

naturally disposed to be anti-state. However, here they were far more exposed to hostile

surveillance and vulnerable to coercion and most appear to have simply concentrated on survival

and sought to remain ‘neutral’. Nevertheless the combination of repression of political

expression, growing discrimination from a non-Kurdish population that was increasingly hostile

because of PKK violence and indiscriminate harassment and violence by a police force with little

visibility into the refugee communities meant the ‘implied bargain’ of neutrality was undermined,

leaving a large pool of fearful PKK sympathisers. Although the combination of wide powers of

legal repression and the ruthless ‘dirty war’ approach of the state, steadily reduced ERNK

numbers in the cities, the same behaviour induced desperation and anger and drove a small but


steady flow into violence, sustaining a residual level of attacks in the west that showed no signs

of being broken.

The Kurdish refugee and guest-worker population in Europe, able to express their

identity and grievances freely, safe from Turkish repression and enjoying sympathy because of it,

developed into a huge support base for the PKK. The principal contribution was cash flow from

subscription and levies on criminal enterprises although it also produced a steady stream of

recruits to fight ‘at home’; sometimes including controversial conscription from youth camps.

Turkish protests and crude attempts to intimidate offshore refugees only increased EU support.

However European-based PKK members also conducted violent operations there which eroded

this sympathy and led to the organisation being banned, although its operations largely continued

under other guises.

In all three battlegrounds the PKK was alert to the legitimacy struggle and proved able to

learn and change when tactics such as killing villagers proved damaging. Its position was

constantly enhanced by Turkish destruction of all other forms of Kurdish expression. On the

other hand the Turkish government slavishly maintained a narrative that denied an ethnic

dimension to the PKK’s position and blamed foreign interference and criminality. Whilst this

played well with the ‘already converted’ non-Kurdish domestic constituencies it had no

credibility within the Kurdish communities who needed to be turned against the PKK.

The PKK won the battle for popular support in the sense of winning and maintaining the

‘popular preference’ amongst a substantial group of Kurds, not least because the Turkish state

hardly even tried to engage. However, the Turks managed to reverse the growth of the

insurgency by reducing the supportive population in the mountains, making active support in the

cities more hazardous and making it increasingly difficult for domestic recruits to reach the PKK

to join. This reduced support did not amount to a defeat of the insurgency, nor lead to it. Whilst

the actual support level at the end of the last phase is unclear, there was clearly sufficient to

sustain a protracted campaign of terrorism, as events have proved. The insurgency, as bounded

by the VTFS study, was weakened by international factors and ended with the capture of Öcalan.

It was the gradual if not complete loss of safe havens and support over the borders that

undermined the PKK’s ability to sustain operations. Iran shifted for economic reasons and to

neutralise support for its own insurgents. The US secured an alliance between the PUK and KDP

which saw the Turkish army and the latter fighting together to destroy the PKK in northern Iraq.

A Turkish-Israeli alliance followed by the massing of the Turkish army on their border persuaded

Syria to eject Öcalan and his fighters. This led to Öcalan’s capture and his orders to the PKK to

stop fighting and withdraw from Turkey and for leaders to surrender: orders that were largely

obeyed.

So, the answers to the two questions about the role and shifting of popular support posed

above are clear. The conflict was decided by international support factors, but only became


significant and endured because of popular support. Support was inadvertently developed and

sustained by Turkish repression before finally being reduced but not crushed by military

measures. These ultimately delivered by geographically dislocating the potential support base

from the southeast and interrupting other logistic support flows. The way in which the support

shifted is more evident from matrix-mapping.

7.4 EVALUATION BY MATRIX-MAPPING COMPLIANCE BEHAVIOUR

Matrix-mapping of compliance behavior offers additional insights. Figure 35 again

provides the compliance matrix for reference purposes and then for each phase maps the mean

behavior (purple ball) of the combined constituencies as well as shifts by significant sub-

groupings (small black arrows).

Resist

RED

Support

Resist

RED

Support

Resist

RED

Support

Resist

RED

Support

Support

BLUE

Resist

PH I PH II PH III PH IV

Figure 35: Locus of Compliance Behaviour and Significant Shifts during the Turkish Insurgency

At the beginning of the conflict most of the Kurdish population had already ‘deserted’

Blue,123 but they were not yet PKK supporters, or even neutral: they were ‘Contra-red’. However

coercion by PKK and state saw sub-groups stop resisting or evading Red coercion, a shift to

Pragmatist behavior. The first refugees were typically ‘evading’ both sides and so represented a

shift to Neutralist behaviour.

123 The creation of the Korucu did not initially represent a shift, it simply recruited the already loyal.


Blue Coercion

Defers to Blue

Coercion

Resists or evades

Blue Coercion

Resists or evades

Red Coercion

Defers to Red

Coercion

Supports Red absent

Red Coercion

Blue‐loyalist

Red‐loyalist

Red‐realist

Blue‐realist

Contra‐red


Pragmatist

Blue‐Diss‐

enter Red‐

Dissenter


During Phase II, increasing robust action by Blue saw the majority begin to no longer

instinctively resist Red, representing a strategically crucial shift to a Pragmatic position. Some

went further and freely supported the PKK: a Red-realist behaviour. A further flow of refugees

were those for whom neither Contra-red nor Pragmatist behaviours were viable: they shifted to

neutralism.

However, it was Blue scorched earth policies in Phase III that had a dramatic impact.

Pragmatic compliance with both sides was now untenable. This shifted the majority firmly into

compliance with Blue but support for Red: Red-realism. Sub-groups shifted behavior across the

matrix. The more substantial group joining the Korucu represented a shift to Blue-loyalism or at

least Contra-red. Large numbers also left homes to join the PKK, representing shifts to Red-

loyalism and many of those remaining at home and subject to unavoidable Blue coercion now

freely offered the insurgents support, representing contra-blue behavior. The massive refugee

flows that occurred at this time were also largely from those who whose continued presence in

the mountains in non-Korucu villages for so long suggests that they would at least have been

deferring to Red, therefore they were now still displaying Contra-blue behavior as they fled.

Phase IV saw substantial groups, but not yet a majority, change behavior away from

freely supporting Red to Pragmatism. Concurrently, other large groups joined the Korucu, but

there is little to suggest that their support for Blue was wholehearted: they shifted to Contra-red.

The value in this matrix representation is that it yet again highlights the impact of early

Blue actions shifting the population mean from behaviour that is actually Contra-red regardless

of ‘red sympathies’. It also shows how the application of increasingly robust methods fragments

behaviours in ways that are undesirable to Blue; in particular apparent ‘shift to Blue’ are often

not real or enduring shifts of loyalty. We can now consider the operation of various factors in

generating these shifts.

7.5 TESTING CANDIDATE FACTORS FOR INFLUENCE ON SUPPORT

There are a range of factors or conditions (in italics below) proposed in the literature as

influencing demobilisation of Blue support, and counter-mobilising or subduing red support. At

the shift from Phase II to III there was some demobilisation of state support as the PKK grew

dramatically, whilst concurrently that growth was largely engendered by countermobilisation.

After the next Phase shift the Turkish forces succeeded in subduing support. We will examine

the influence of those factors at the nominated shifts.


Factors for Desertion

The first test question is:

What proposed factors for Blue Constituency Demobilisation [if any] were present in the

conflict during phase III but not II?

The support constituency for the Turkish state was the pro-state Korucu communities

and the passively pro-state (largely non-Kurd) communities around them. Small numbers of

guards tried to hand back weapons as the PKK surged between Phase II and III, indicating

demobilisation.

Some factors can be excluded 124at this point, but the community had by this stage

experienced prolonged exposure to PKK violence and the recent inability of the state to protect

isolated villages caused loss of trust whilst the increasing need to fight fellow Kurds on behalf of

an alien state represented an axiological constraint. Finally increasingly there appeared to be a

failure of robust methods as the state struck out harder and the PKK grew in strength.

Factors for Countermobilisation

The second test question is:

What proposed factors for Red Constituency Countermobilisation [if any] were present

in the conflict during phase III but not before or after?

At the point at which PKK support dramatically increased some factors 125were not a

recent change. The new measures being introduced at this phase shift were however notably

humiliating and immediately and personally threatening.

Factors for Subduing

The third test question is:

What proposed factors for subduing the Red Constituency [if any] were present in the

conflict during Phase IV but not before?

Of the factors suggested for subduing a constituency, when PKK support reduced only

the only126 factor that possibly shifted was that the state now had a strong material capacity

124 There is no suggestion that ‘decision forming elites opened up a normative difference with the state’. ‘Dissent within the blue constituency’ was simply not tolerated. It is also unlikely there was much ‘sympathy for the PKK’, as opposed to dislike of the Turks. Whilst both PKK violence against women and children and similar state behaviour were ‘perceived as outrageous’, they balanced out. Finally the PKK was not a ‘mid-range threat’ – it was greater. 125 The robust measures being applied were not ‘in breach of societal norms or particularly outrageous’ (in a historical context of ethnocide) nor ‘novel’. The broad ‘community perception of threat’ from the state was enduring as was the ‘common motivating idea’ of freedom from Turkish oppression, whilst ‘inequity’ had long characterised Turkish policy.


relative to the environment. Therefore, of the various factors that are proposed in the literature as

shifting popular support, the clear ones are those shifting support generally from Blue towards

Red. Loss of trust, prolonged exposure and axiological constraint seem to have demobilised and

a humiliation and the immediate perception of threat (in the form of conscription) seems to have

counter-mobilised. The reduction in support is associated with strong capacity. We shall now

look at the mechanisms of how actions do (or do not) reduce support for insurgents within the

context of the wider processes that change effectiveness.

7.6 EXAMINING THE MECHANISMS OF REDUCING INSURGENT EFFECTIVENESS

The ‘system’ model of insurgency will again be used to consider; what reduced the

impact of actual insurgent activities, what reduced insurgent capacity to produce such activity,

what reduced external support that sustained insurgent activity, what increased what active

support for the state and finally what reduced internal support for the insurgents.

7.6.1 Reducing Insurgent Activity Value


From early in the insurgency the Turkish security forces sought to make PKK attacks

less productive by protective hardening of their positions, with bunkers, blast walls and

embankments, especially the isolated Jandarma posts. Large areas were cleared around them and

minefields and barbed wire emplaced to detect, delay and expose attackers. Posts that were not

on dominating ground were provided with security positions and eventually tanks and artillery

were deployed to many posts to ensure an engagement advantage. These measures still left the

initiative with the PKK who could spend months reconnoitring and preparing for an attack at the

point of weakness at the moment of their choice: even tanks and artillery did not deter

sometimes effective attacks. It was the introduction of responses by night-capable attack

helicopters from 1991 which began to make large-scale PKK attack on posts prohibitively costly

and imposed defensive operational attrition. Concurrently elite close combat troops were

deployed to conduct long term patrols, ambushes and sweeps and pursue insurgents after contact.

This threat began to disrupt PKK movement in the mountain border areas. By 1983 they were

present in sufficient numbers with enough transport and attack helicopters to begin imposing

operational attrition through offensive operations. The rate of casualties inflicted stopped the

PKK’s expansion, ended its attempt to confront the military conventionally and forced it back to

126 The state had no ‘claim on legitimacy’ (in the eyes of the community) and was not (consistently) being ‘selective or discriminate’. It did have the ‘motivation to repress’ and, the ‘discipline to discriminate’ but this had not shifted.


small scale operations against soft targets. However, it only reduced the ARGK by up to a

maximum of 40%; it did not destroy or cripple it.

The major mechanism of reducing insurgent activity was dislocation. The large-scale

evacuation and burning of the concealing and sustaining mountain environment from 1983

simultaneously forced the PKK back further into the mountains far from targets and reduced the

number of vulnerable village ‘targets’. Dislocation was supplemented by unconventional

operations that degraded insurgent capacity for activity. ‘Pseudo gangs’ masqueraded as PKK

to detect sympathisers, and carry out covert killings and ‘turned’ captured PKK members were

used as both infiltrators and assassins. These methods further deterred sympathisers forced the

insurgents to reduce contact with the population and required ever more cautious ‘marry-up’

procedures when PKK groups met. Whilst the uncertainty created by unconventional operations

degraded activity, and deterred support, it did not deter activity. From early in the campaign the

PKK accepted (and arguably welcomed) threat of reprisals onto insurgent constituencies:

Constituency harm deterrence was not a factor.

7.6.2 Reducing Insurgent Activity Production


The production capacity of the insurgency to convert inputs, such as recruits, food,

ammunition and information into effective capability occurred in two areas. Camps across the

border provided logistics support for the insurgents in country, generated basic capability by

providing most initial training and produced activity by providing the bases for closer attacks.

Most conversion of capability into actual activity, continued training, regrouping, planning and

rehearsals occurred in operating bases in-country. As Turkish operations into the mountains

increased, these camps became smaller and more dispersed to avoid detection, but were now

degraded: more vulnerable and less efficient at producing activity, needing more effort to sustain

and keep them secure from surprise attack. The harsh winter snows had traditionally provided a

respite period where insurgent capability was reconstituted in sheltered camps or mountain

villages, but this was disrupted when the Turkish army began operating in the winter in 1991.

The mountain clearances dramatically increased both disruption and degradation as the

insurgents camps were pushed back to where they could find concealment, and without local

resources they now had to devote most of their efforts to bringing supplies in from distant or

cross border sources, moving along now more vulnerable routes: the PKK in-country ‘production

capacity’ was now very limited. This pressure meant that larger attacks increasingly had to be

mounted from bases outside of Turkey, but from 1991 cross border raids by the army disrupted

the capability for this too. This was less from their damage, as the PKK proved adept at detecting

imminent raids and avoiding their full effects, rather it was from dispersing its resources and


frequently moving to reduce vulnerability. This disruption became more marked, for the same

reason after the Iranians and the KDP in northern Iraq also began attacking PKK bases.

However the most potent mechanism applied against PKK activity production was

decapitation via the Syrian ejection of Öcalan and the PKK and his subsequent capture. This

neutralised a charismatic leader who had ensured there was no ready successor, which would

probably have caused the subsequent paralysis and split even if he had not subsequently directed

a ceasefire.

7.6.3 Mechanisms of Reducing External Support



The reduction of external support was key to Turkish success. The three neighbouring

countries providing sanctuary for the PKK were steadily demotivated. Iran was shifted

diplomatically with promises of vital economic cooperation and an end of assumed support for

the MEK insurgents, the Iraqi Kurd factions were pushed into an alliance and opposing the PKK

by US pressure and the Syrians were threatened by a Turkish alliance with Israel from 1996 that

became a direct military threat in 1998. The Turks throughout the campaign sought to isolate the

PKK from external support by securing their borders with obstacles, sensors and troops, but the

distances and rugged geography involved meant that this was only ever really effective along flat

parts of the Syrian border. The Turks made crude attempts to demotivate Kurdish supporters in

Europe by harassing Kurds who were visiting Turkey but this was probably counterproductive.

They were far more successful in obtaining EU action to ban the PKK and freeze associated

funds. This successfully isolated them from political dialogue but did not prevent funding

shifting to other routes.

7.6.4 Mechanisms of Increasing Active Support for the State


The Korucu was a key part of the Turkish states strategy to defeat the PKK. It was

initially created to provide local expertise to the security forces and meet the challenges of

securing a dispersed population. It was initially promoted as a self-defence organisation and

voluntarily joined by those in villages whose leaders felt threatened by the PKK or saw

advantage in a state-sanctioned authority to use force. Most villagers tried to stay neutral, but as

attacks increased, security forces assumed complicity from the uncommitted. PKK attacks

would be followed by brutal questioning and reprisals in nearby settlements, generating erratic

and unofficial coercive pressure to join the guards and so prove loyalty. Gradually the levels of

force increased to destroy villages and kill many and the approach developed into an official


systematic and widespread scorched earth policy of ‘enforcive control’: the stark choice of ‘join

the guard or your village will be burnt’.

7.6.5 Mechanism of Reducing Internal Support for Insurgents

What mechanisms may have reduced (either by increasing resource cost or reducing

supply) internal support (inputs) for production of insurgent activities?

A key part of this thesis is to determine the mechanism whereby repressive actions might

subdue support: which robust actions ‘work’? As in the previous case, we see that even when

repression is severe, insurgent support generally across the community is not greatly and

immediately reduced. In this case we are slightly better able to distinguish between ‘preference’,

passive and active support. As we would expect, constituents facing violence and threat comply

sufficiently to survive, but when given the choice a remarkable proportion of Kurds still preferred

to accept the huge costs and risks of leaving rather than become ‘loyal’. The ‘explosion’ in PKK

numbers from 1990 coincides with increasing repression and continues to grow with it. Those

numbers were slowed by military operations and mountain clearance rather than a lack of recruits

or willingness to support. Certainly, the brutal repression by Turkish security forces would have

effectively paralysed all support where and as it occurred and perhaps thereafter. Yet for many

the fear and humiliation would turn to anger and a deep ‘preference’ for the PKK and a constant

trickle of the young would try to join. More importantly, even though the Kurdish population

knew that killing, torturing and burning houses could be the price of merely not joining the

Korucu, never mind assisting the PKK, many were clearly not deterred from providing such

support: coercive deterrence failed. We must note that the repression may still have reduced

support from what it might have been and this section considers different mechanisms that might

have reduced internal inputs to the insurgency using the Leites & Wolf frame of increasing

resource cost and reducing supply. For comparative purposes, soft measures are also examined.

The establishment of enforcive control whereby any act of non-conformity (support to

insurgents) would be as perceived by potential perpetrators as almost certain to be recognised

and penalised was probably established in many tribal Korucu communities with their

hierarchical structures and tradition of obedience to the chief. As the state sought to extend the

system into less homogeneous settlements where some would join the guard and some not, the

former were usually also in a position to exert enforcive control to prevent any assistance to the

PKK. However this power was often applied capriciously to settle old scores or gain other

advantage, rather than simply to maintain security. Eventually the non compliant families were

often coerced out of the village, so the mechanism of reducing support was dislocation of latent

support rather than control.

Dislocation of those who did not ‘join the state’ was also the mechanism that locally

reduced effective and active support for the PKK when in Phase III entire communities were


faced with the stark choice of join the guard or evacuate. However, the levers to force that choice

were not only coercive, but co-optive : in an impoverished countryside the Korucu salary was an

unmatchable financial opportunity. That choice was clearly not universally enforced despite the

systematic nature of the programme of burning and evacuations. In some reputedly pro-PKK

areas villages remained that had refused to join the guard system, which hints at a more nuanced

application of policy by the Turks than the available record suggests. There was also a distinct

lag between the peak of evacuations and that of guard numbers which indicates that communities

minimised their loyalty until the PKK were unable to punish it and suggests that state anti-

coercion was important in villager’s eventual decision the join the guard. This also draws our

attention to the reality that PKK coercive threats against joining the guard were a factor in the

huge numbers of villagers that fled rather than join, and raises the question of why PKK coercive

deterrence against joining the Korucu seems to have often been more potent that the state

combination of coercion and co-option to do so.

It is particularly instructive to consider the period before systematic mountain clearance

and when the southeast was a coercive deterrence contest between PKK and state. The PKK

sought to deter Kurds from joining the guards and providing other support to the security forces

and the state sought to deter support for the PKK. It seems that PKK rule enforcement was more

effective: why?

The Turkish demonised the PKK as ‘baby killers’, who killed innocent civilians

apparently ‘at random’. Kurdish sources, including those very opposed to the PKK, often

acknowledge that the PKK’s killing of civilians was understood in Kurdish communities to be

precisely targeted against those and their families127 whom it had already warned, for pro-state

actions it had proscribed. This remains true, notwithstanding the PKK’s later recognition that

such actions were losing them support. Thus PKK coercive control which relied on the self

evident fact of having joined the guards was discriminate, comprehensible and followed warning.

It was also probably persuasive in that the severity was understandable as comparable to that

being applied by the state. However, the PKK were often not able to punish ‘transgressors’

immediately nor did they punish all of them: celerity and certainty were quite low and only a

small proportion of those who joined the Korucu were attacked. Not joining the guard had a high

compliance cost of almost certain harassment, erratic violence and increasing penalty leading to

eviction.

We may contrast the PKK’s apparently effective coercion with that of the Turkish state.

The states behaviour was probably similarly persuasive in that its severity was understandable

for the purported offence of being pro-PKK. Explicit policy warnings by state agencies were

127 The reprisal punishment of significant others, often family and relatives, for the offences of a ‘target’ believed culpable is now alien to western law, but is seen in most traditions, not least the Judeo-Christian one, and was very much a part of European Imperial enforcement.


only given later, but an implied warning was obvious within the first year of the insurgency. At

this stage (pre-clearances) compliance cost was also broadly comparable. The PKK imposed

compliance cost for joining the guard was of lower likelihood but typically with a higher

consequence than the state imposed one for assumed non-support of the PKK. Harassment,

beatings and occasional killing was the state penalty for many, versus a PKK inflicted brutal

death, albeit for a much smaller proportion of ‘transgressors’. Celerity was high in that the

security forces usually repressed an area immediately following an attack. However certainty

was not high: most of the hidden acts of support the security forces intended to deter remained

undetected. Critically, Turkish target selection was neither comprehensible nor discriminate.

Reprisal attacks struck widely across the community against those who happened to be

geographically close to an attack or who were assumed to be pro-PKK on the basis of indications

of failure to support the state, regardless of possible PKK coercion. It is this indiscriminate

quality which seems to chiefly account for Turkish failure to coerce: if repression was often

suffered regardless of involvement, then participation was not deterred.

The Turkish security forces, though highly disciplined, failed to appreciate the

importance of discrimination between the culpable and the coerced, or even the appearance

thereof and permitted troops to exact reprisals almost randomly. This lack of information to base

discriminate action upon is always a problem for counterinsurgents, but as far as the Turkish

security forces did attempt to be selective they often chose to rely on the advice of their loyal

‘Korucu’ allies to select targets. Whilst the Korucu could have helped gather evidence to identify

the small subset of villagers, in their own or a neighbouring communities, who were actually

providing support this only happened rarely and later. Generally Korucu encouraged or

participated in reprisal actions against a much broader set of ‘suspects’ which often included

those against whom they had feuds, outstanding disputes or could be driven away to seize their

property.

This Turkish security forces failure to coerce compliance in the mountains contrasts with

their relative success in urban areas once they began a major crackdown. This is partly because

urban populations are physically much more vulnerable to arrest and that any activity or meetings

may be observed by someone, and loyalties are uncertain. However the main factor appears to

be that the police and intelligence agencies in the towns, whilst not troubled by the prospect of

falsely identifying the innocent, were focussing their energies on any signs of Kurdish political

activity. It followed that if one avoided such activity and those that were involved, one was

much less likely to suffer the worst repression: the ‘rule enforcement’ between ‘culpability’ and

consequence was clearer.

As has been discussed, Turkish robust measures were relatively more successful when

enforcing an evident behaviour, joining the Korucu, than in coercive deterrence or suppression.


Later in the campaign the alternative was forced evacuation and destruction which had the effect

of isolating the PKK in the mountains from logistic support: strategic resource denial.

Isolation of the PKK was also pursued on a local and tactical level by many measures

other than the presence of Korucu. Permanent security posts and road checkpoints were sited

near villages, to control movement, especially that of food and other supplies which were strictly

rationed, especially non-perishable items like canned food: those found with ‘excess’ risked

beatings. To limit contact with the PKK beyond the watchful eyes of the village, the use of

distant fields and high pastures was often prohibited, and enforced by laying mines. In the later

stages of the conflict ‘free-fire’ zones where any living creature might legally be killed kept

villagers cowering in their communities. The tight control of supplies into villages whose food

production was now greatly curtailed had benefits beyond reducing the ‘stock’ available.

Supplies were sometimes completely stopped as a coercive deterrent for PKK activity in an area.

This added to a mechanism of exhaustion which kept populations malnourished and weakened,

thus more focussed on survival, less likely to resist and not in a physical condition to join the

insurgents in the mountains.

The targeting of Korucu families, whilst discriminate, appears to some extent to have

triggered an axiological shift, de-legitimised the PKK and de-motivated their support base. The

strongest evidence is their admission of error and the blaming of subsequent instances on

renegade commanders. The undoubtedly brutal actions of the PKK against fellow Kurds had

great propaganda potential, but dogmatic Turkish denial of any ethnicity precluded its effective

use. Furthermore, crude attempts by Korucu early in the conflict to masquerade as PKK when

attacking rival non-Korucu communities were transparent and quickly became well known.

Subsequent excesses that were actually the work of the PKK were often then assumed to be the

work of counter gangs. It is difficult to discern evidence of a rational cost-benefit calculation by

the population for most of the insurgency as too many conflicting factors are operating, however

at the end of the campaign, when the PKK were being pushed back to the mountains and across

the borders there was a surge in Korucu membership. This cannot be attributed to the removal of

the protection, medical treatment of other services and benefits provided by the PKK in earlier

years: they had long gone. It seems that the probable outcome was now PKK defeat and so

present and future benefits of association with the PKK were lost, whilst resistance no longer

appeared a public good.

The Turkish clearance of the mountains was, as we have seen, a denial strategy that

effectively dislocated the PKK from concealment as well as recruiting and logistic resources. If

the evacuated populations now in the towns of the southeast and the western cities continued to

try to remain neutral, this presented little challenge to the state. In the short term it was easier to

monitor and coerce them there, particularly whilst they lived in ghettos and slums. However, a

huge number of people were forcibly displaced, suffering greatly, losing their living and their


land and concentrated amongst others with similar experiences, creating a wellspring of

bitterness and resentment that was aggravated by discrimination and continuing oppression. The

violence of the forced move and the failure to care for the evacuees was certainly not likely to

have changed anyone’s preferences from the PKK to the state. Whilst most probably just wanted

to avoid trouble and many successfully integrated into mainstream Turkish society, some had

few opportunities and others nurtured their sense of injustice. When the state persisted in

shutting down Kurdish political outlets, this inevitably created a pool of angry young people. It

was from here that ERNK was able to find the relatively small number of recruits needed to

sustain an urban terrorist campaign.

Amongst the forced evacuees, those who had suffered most, often those from areas most

sympathetic to the PKK, were the ones with most reason to still fear repression. They had the

best reason to seek political asylum in Europe, and the best entitlement. The effect was to ‘distil’

into the EU a politically active and pro-PKK Kurdish diaspora. Despite losing European support

by violent protest there, this group would build the Kurdish organisations and a Parliament in

Exile that would drive international pressure on Turkish abuses at the same time as providing a

haven and funding base for the PKK. The clearance of the mountains thus led to a recruitment

base in the cities and a funding and political support base in Europe.


The Leites & Wolf ‘system’ model of insurgency has provided a comparative basis for

examining the value of different mechanisms of reducing insurgency effectiveness. In this case it

is very clear that diplomatic and direct military mechanisms delivered more than coercion, and

coercive enforcement more than coercive deterrence or suppression. The greatest blow to PKK

effectiveness was decapitation: the arrest of and subsequent direction to cease fighting from

Öcalan. This was enabled by diplomatically and militarily demotivating Syria, Iran and the Iraqi

Kurds from providing support and refuge. An improving Turkish military capability succeeded

in defeating a PKK conventional challenge by attrition and when they reverted to guerrilla

warfare the army degraded PKK capability with elite combat units that forced the insurgents to

disperse and keep moving, whilst pseudo operations undermined PKK internal security. Security

measures to control access to villages, road movement and food supplies isolated PKK groups

from each other, resources and the community.

The coercive enforcement of recruitment to the Korucu villagers and associated

population and environmental clearance successfully both increased active support for the state

and dislocated the PKK by denial of resource base, concealment and shelter. However this

benefit was local to the rural southeast and established a pool of anti-state Kurds in Turkish cites

and Europe. Coercive deterrence of support to the PKK in the first half of the conflict largely


failed, and support grew. In contrast, PKK coercive deterrence appears to have inhibited guard

recruitment. The key difference seems to be PKK targeted according to transparent ‘rules’.

7.7 CHAPTER SUMMARY

This conflict was selected as one of those in which repression was used and appeared to

have reduced internal support for the insurgency. In fact, on closer examination the repression

increased latent support but military measures made that support ineffective and irrelevant in the

short term. In broad terms the insurgency was driven and enabled by support from neighbouring

countries and ended when that support was reduced and the PKK was decapitated. Internal

support for the PKK was, as theory would suggest, vital, but was largely engendered by the

actions of the Turkish forces. A ruthless campaign to apply an area denial strategy ‘starved’ the

PKK of resources and enabled military means to dramatically reduce it. However the PKK was

not defeated and the insurgency ended because Öcalan was captured and chose to direct its end.

This thesis seeks to investigate when and how robust action reduces insurgent support or

appears to, asking: What are the conditions under which and mechanisms by which this occurs?

These have been identified above and are summarised below. They are carried forwards in to the

next chapter where they are cross-related to those from the Kampuchea case and the extant

literature.

Strategy and Support

External support drove the conflict whilst its demotivation subdued it and allowed decisive

decapitation.

Internal support for the PKK expanded and protracted the insurgency.

The popular support that sustains an insurgency can be displaced and subdued.

Coercive displacement of population that disregards popular support will develop latent

hostility and is likely to embed conflict.

Internal Support and its Shifts

Internal support for almost all on either side was reluctant and either coerced or counter-

mobilised.

Active and willing shift of support towards one party was the usually the result of increased

threat or harm from the other party rather than persuasion.

Dramatic increases in PKK active support and recruiting were due to Turkish repression.

Large numbers of Kurds chose to pay a high price rather than be coerced into support

(either way).

Coercion failed to make major shifts to underlying preferences.


Military Measures

The security forces reduced PKK effectiveness by isolation of communities and sectors.

The counterinsurgent forces used robust conventional military operations inside and outside

Turkey, especially by elite close combat and heli-mobile forces, to degrade, attrit and disrupt

the PKK and reduce its level of guerrilla warfare capability to a sustainable level.

The use of pseudo gangs and other unconventional measures degraded PKK capability.

The robust conduct of mountain clearance operations dislocated the PKK essential resource

base, denying effective support but dramatically increasing latent support.

Conditions for Shifting Insurgent Support

Hunger and other deprivation can assist in applying robust coercive measures whereas an

inability to protect a community or lack of reliable informers within it will undermine such

approaches.

Mechanisms of Shifting Insurgent Support

There is a clear difference in the value of coercive induction (enforcing joining the Kurucu)

compared to deterrence or suppression: the former was effective because compliance was

evident.

Coercive deterrence depends upon ‘rule enforcement’; it is more effective if the violence is

‘discriminate, comprehensible and followed warning’ and this is more significant than

certainty or celerity.

Cost benefit/rational actor theory analysis is challenged by the large number of Kurds

choosing not to join the Kurucu, but supported by the delayed take up of those who stayed

behind, which suggests state ‘anti-coercion’ was important in villager’s eventual decision

the join the guard.

Coercive action that is ‘notably humiliating’ and ‘immediately and personally threatening’ is

more likely to engender countermobilisation.

Blue actors were seen to change sides (abandon the Korucu) because of a combination of

‘prolonged exposure to PKK violence’, ‘loss of trust’ and ‘axiological constraint’ rather

than just an increased threat, but ‘failure of robust methods’ seems particularly significant.

Red actors were seen to shift (cease supporting the PKK) because the targeting of Korucu

families, whilst discriminate, appears to some extent to have triggered an ‘axiological shift,

de-legitimised the PKK and de-motivated’ their support base.

8Chapter 8: Findings and Conclusions

Introduction

This chapter marshals, explains, cross-compares and discusses the sub-analyses that

together answer the research question, draws these to a conclusion and outlines implications. It

comprises these sections

Results and Findings from Bivariate Analysis

Findings from Cross-Case Comparison of State Robustness and Insurgent Support (Sub-

Analysis-B)

Findings from Cross-Case Assessment of the Strategic Impact of Constituency Support

and its Shifts (Sub-Analysis-C)

Findings from Matrix-mapping Compliance Behaviour (Sub-Analysis-D)

Findings from Cross-Case Analysis of Factors Shifting Support: the Literatures

Predictions (Sub-Analysis-E)

Findings from Examining the Mechanisms of Reducing Insurgent Effectiveness (Sub-

Analysis-F)

Additional observations

Conclusion

Implications for studies of ACV, Theory and Methodology

There is some repetition, reflecting corroborating evidence from different analyses. For

simplicity and brevity, bivariate analysis findings are integrated with the supporting results whilst

brief observations from the early pilot analysis are appended below. The term ‘observation’ is

used to indicate a finding that arose during the analysis but outside the formal inquiry (note that

sub-analysis A - Validity check has been dealt with in the case analyses).

8.1.1 The Lutz and Lutz Analysis

The introductory chapter explained how the piloted study of the Lutz and Lutz based

dataset did not reveal sought-after explanatory relationships where counterproductive or

suppressive effects were dependent variables; however the coding of the 139 conflicts did

provide useful comparative historical observations128 about phenomena of interest, especially if

one compares campaigns before and after 1946. They can be summarised thus:

128 Blue coercion was applied in an attempt to suppress support in about 90% of all conflicts irrespective of period, but to impel red action in about 30%. ‘Impellent’ coercion was only half as common post 1946 which


Observation: In the Lutz and Lutz purposeful sample of terrorist campaigns there was a

dramatic post-1946 shift to imposing costs, especially indirectly, as a coercive strategic

lever and a concurrent smaller trend away from both impellent coercion and direct

targeting of leaders. Crucially, robust Blue action resulted in distinct suppressive effects

in 12% of conflicts and counterproductive effects in 7%.

Discussion: ‘pilot’ observations must be treated circumspectly, but they do accord with

theorists who see 1946 as marking a de-colonisation shift in the character of ACV. Importantly,

the last point reminds us that at this level of resolution there is historical evidence to support both

robust and restrained ‘views’.

8.2 RESULTS AND FINDINGS FROM BIVARIATE ANALYSIS

The bivariate sub-analysis procedure as explained in Chapter 3 was applied to the VTFS

dataset to answer the question; what was the effect of robust measures on internal support to

insurgents? To do this the association between the two robust factors ‘employed escalating

repression’ and ‘employed collective punishment’ and four other ‘internal support’ reduction

factors was tested, first separately for all eight combinations and then with the variables

aggregated in different ways.

8.2.1 Effect of Escalating Repression

The reader will recall that a 2 x 2 table is used to analyse and display factor relationships.

The tables below at Figure 36 examine the association129 between employing ‘escalating

repression’ (present in 69 of 86 phases) and four different ‘support variables’. As described

earlier the strength of the association is indicated by the totals in the four quadrants. Looking at

the first table showing the relationship between repression and reduction of internal support, we

probably reflects changing values and growing reluctance to clear populations using ‘genocidal’ approaches. The coding of political mechanisms of coercion show that a historically fairly constant low percentage (~13%) of all campaigns escalated to a major struggle, however there is a marked shift of coercive ‘tactics’ after 1946. Before this in 48% of cases decision makers were directly threatened, but afterwards this dropped to 24%, perhaps reflecting the invulnerability of remote coloniser governments. There was a dramatic shift after 1946 in the significance of red imposing strategic costs. Previously both direct and indirect (reverberative) strategic costs to blue were a lever in only 2% of the conflicts, but afterwards direct costs operated in 23% and indirect costs in 31% of cases. Most significantly for this study, robust blue action resulted in counterproductive effects in 13% of conflicts and suppressive effects in 17%. If we disregard those (post 1946) cases where both effects were observed, counterproductive effects occurred about 7% of the time and suppressive effects 12%. This challenges the argument that robust blue action is inherently counterproductive 129 Escalating repression was applied in 69 of the 96 phases. We are interested in how much different suppressive effects were or were not associated with repression, shown by the split ratio across the top two boxes in each table. We then control (to reduce downwards) for other effects by comparing this with the split ratio in the absence of repression, shown immediately below which indicates the influence of other ‘background’ factors. For example in the top table, repression was associated with reduced internal support in 8 phases and negatively associated in 61 phases. This is a superficially strong association that with a ratio of 7.62. However, even where there is no repression, internal support is still subdued in 4 and unsubdued in 13 phases, at a ratio of 3.25

Conclusions Page 253

can see that the top two quadrants indicate that repression is associated with reducing support in 8

cases but not associated in 61 cases. However, again as previously explained in the absence of

repression support to insurgents is reduced 4 times and not reduced 13 times, so we express the

effects of both repression and no repression on reduction of internal support as a ratio.

Internal support to insurgents reduced

Yes No RatioRepression 8 61 7.62

No repression 4 13 3.25

Insurgents force size constrained



Insurgent replenishment diminished



Substantial intelligence received



Figure 36: 2x2 Factor Association Tables for Escalating Repression

The strength of the negative association between ‘repression’ and ‘internal support

reduction’ should be understood as the degree to which it is more pronounced than the ‘natural’

distribution where no repression applies, the difference in the ratios: in this case130 very roughly

2:1. By the same logic repression is negatively associated with ‘constraining insurgent force

size’ at again about 2:1 and the ‘diminishment of insurgent replenishment’ at 4:1. The last effect,

‘intelligence received’ is also negatively associated131 with repression at about 2:1.

Finding: Escalating repression was negatively correlated with a reduction in key

categories of support to insurgents: it was at least twice as likely to be associated with

Blue failure to reduce support as no repression was.

130 This comes from 7.62/3.25 ~2 131 In this case the yes /no distribution for repression present are less pronounced, but the control distribution is ‘even’.


8.2.2 Effect of Employing Collective Punishment

The same procedures were applied to analyse the use of collective punishment (which

was used in 70 of the phases) as per the tables at Figure 37. Collective punishment has stronger

raw associations and less ‘biases in the ‘natural’ distributions than escalating repression.

Internal support to insurgents reduced Yes No Ratio

Collective Punishment 6 64 10.6

No Collective Punishment 8 8 1

Insurgents force size constrained Yes No Ratio


No Collective Punishment 6 10 1.6

Insurgent replenishment diminished Yes No Ratio

Collective Punishment 7 63 9


Substantial intelligence received Yes No Ratio



Figure 37: 2x2 Factor Association Tables for Collective Punishment

Collective punishment is negatively associated with internal support at least at a ratio of

10:1, constraint on force size at 3:1, diminished insurgent replenishment insurgent at 5:1 and

finally on intelligence flows, conservatively132 estimated at 3:1.

Finding: Collective punishment was negatively correlated with reduction in key categories of

support to insurgents: it was at least three times as likely to be associated with Blue failure to

reduce support as no collective punishment was.

132 Clearly the mathematical relationship 2.6/0.33 would give a figure of about 8, but a conservative approach is used and the ‘control’ is only used to reduce the relationship.


8.2.3 Aggregated Factors

It is also potentially instructive to aggregate both of the robust measures and the three

support suppressions, despite the aggregation changing the association logic133. To test for

‘strong factors versus not so strong’ the aggregated robust measures and suppressions are

plotted134 at Figure 38, giving us a controlled ratio of 1:20, but unfortunately the aggregation

makes any inferences highly tenuous and we can only conclude that use of both robust measures

does not associate with a ‘broad’ suppression.

Test for ‘Strong versus Not So Strong’ Factor Effects ('Both' OR 'One or No' Robust Measures versus 'All three' OR 'some or no' Suppression)

All three

suppressions Some or no

suppressions Ratio

Both Robust Measures 1 61 61

One or no Robust Measures 6 18 3

Figure 38: Factor Association Table for 'Strong' Aggregated Factors

A logically more powerful use of aggregation is to sort135 for ‘some factors versus none’.

With this approach we can see from Figure 39, that more often than not, the use of any repressive

measure is negatively associated with achieving any suppression, an inference greatly

strengthened136 by the ‘natural’ distribution being strongly towards suppression.

Test for ‘Some Factors versus None’ Factor Effects 'One or Both' OR 'Neither' Robust Measure v. 'Any' OR 'No' Suppression or Int. Provision

Any suppress. or No suppress. or int. Ratio

Either or both Robust Meas. 29 47 1.62

Neither Robust Measure 9 1 0.11

Figure 39: Factor Association Tables for 'Some versus None' Aggregated Factors

Another approach is to use aggregations with the dataset reduced to consider only phases

where associations are clear-cut. Figure 40 shows a 2x2 table for only those 72 phases in which 133 For instance (if we remain with the full sample of phases) we can either divide the aggregated set of both robust measure into ‘both measures’ and ‘one or no measures’, (strong or less strong) or we can divide it into ‘one or both measures’ and ‘neither measure’ (some or none). The same logic applies to the aggregation of the three support measures 134 The use of both robust measures is here associated with only one instance of achieving all three suppressions compared to 61 instances of some lesser combination. The ‘natural distribution for ‘one or no’ robust measures also has a positive 3:1 ratio, which still gives us a ‘controlled’ ratio of 20:1 135 In this case we sort the 76 cases where either one or both robust measure was applied against any suppression or no suppression 136 Theoretically applying ‘control’ should increase the ratio to 14.7, but the above is a more conservative approach.


either both or no robust measures were used and either any or no suppression occurred.

Acknowledging that the sample is distorted, we can infer that the use of strong robust measures

compared to none is half as likely to be associated with suppression.

Test ‘Strong versus Any’ Factor Effects (Stripped data) Robust Measures 'Present' OR 'Absent' versus 'Any' OR 'No' Suppr. or Int. Provision

(72 cases) Any suppress. or int. provision

No suppress. or int. provision

Ratio

Both Robust Measures 21 41 1.95

No Robust Measure 9 1 0.11

Figure 40: Factor Association Table for 72‐phase 'Both versus None' Aggregated Factors

Finally in similar vein we can select only those 54 phases in which both or no robust

measures are applied and either all three or no suppressions are present. Figure 41 shows that

there is no association between use of very robust measures and broad effective suppression,

essentially confirming Figure 38.

Test ‘Strong versus All’ Factor Effects (Stripped data) 'Both' OR 'No ' Robust Measures versus 'All three ' OR 'No ' Suppressions

(54 cases) All three suppressions No suppression Ratio

Both Robust Measures 1 46 46

No Robust Measure 5 2 0.4

Figure 41: Factor Association Table for 54‐phase 'Both versus None' Aggregated Factors

Therefore, synthesising these aggregated analyses we can conclude:

8.2.4 Summary of Bivariate Findings

The application of robust measures in the form of both escalating repression and

collective punishment almost never achieved the broad suppression it presumably intended:

they were least twice as likely to be associated with Blue failure to reduce support as not using

robust measures, and sometimes many times that.


Discussion: this analysis extends that of VTFS, who demonstrated that robust measures

are correlated with Blue failure, to show that they are likely to be almost always

counterproductive in (large scale) COIN regardless of eventual outcome. This does not challenge

the possible successful Blue use robust measures within nascent ACV campaigns ended before

they reached the scale to be included in VTFS: “crush them early” is not refuted. However the

Lutz and Lutz pilot study demonstrated an even distribution of suppressive and

counterproductive effects across ‘terrorist’ campaigns large and small. This would not be true if

terrorists were indeed especially susceptible to early robust137 action. The case analysis findings

below amplify that argument to show why successful use of robust measures against ACV is

unlikely.

8.3 FINDINGS FROM CROSS-CASE COMPARISON OF STATE ROBUSTNESS AND INSURGENT SUPPORT

Sub-Analysis B asked the question was ‘how was Red and Blue support broadly shifted

by Blue actions and policies? The reader will recall that from this point onwards the findings are

from analysis of the two cases found by RAND analysis to most suggest ‘successful’ repression

was applied. Findings were evident for both the broad counterproductive effect, and reluctance

and reactance effects.

Counterproductive Effects of Robust Actions

In both conflicts robust measures138 increased in the initial phases yet there was no

reduction in the still modest active support to the insurgents as repression increased, rather an

opposite, if as yet inconclusive, tendency. Cross-case comparison reinforces this: a more robust

approach in Turkey saw slightly higher insurgent support. Perhaps more tellingly, information

flows to the state forces slowed. Whilst within both countries the insurgents still struggled to

recruit, they were now at decreasing risk of betrayal by a population that was moving further

away from the state. Nevertheless, there may theoretically139 have been some reduction from the

support levels that otherwise would have applied.

It is very clear that in the early phases the still comparatively moderate, though

increasing, repression undermined any Blue legitimacy; however its effects on active support to

Red were mixed and conflated with other factors. The counterproductive effects of robust

137 Remembering that robust here refers to repressive actions on the RED constituency, not discriminate violence. 138 In Kampuchea, robust measures in the form of collective punishments, summary punishments, arrests, imprisonment torture and execution were increasingly employed by Phase II. Similarly, in Turkey beatings, torture and killings in response to attacks surged during the equivalent phase. 139 In reductio ad absurdum, had there been no state sanction on support for the insurgents, it seems intuitive that support for Red could have been dramatically greater.


actions only became unequivocal during Phase III in both countries when there were massive

increases in repression and collective punishment140. These not only increased the broad ‘threat’

to constituencies dramatically, but made providing support far more practically difficult. Despite

this, proactive support and recruitment now surged as and where Blue presence was insufficient

to prevent it, and recruits in both countries now reported their anger at repression as their

motivation for joining: causality was evident141.

Interestingly, PKK recruitment ending coincides with a late Turkish reduction in

repressive tactics, but since this was relatively cosmetic in effect and unlikely to be causal, it does

provides evidence that relaxing repression did not stimulate greater rebellion.

Cross-case Finding: Robust action by Blue intended to coerce reductions in clandestine

support for Red was causally linked to net increased recruitment for Red and not

associated with coercive reduction in active support to Red (net reduction was due to

non-coercive effects).

Discussion: This is the crux of the thesis, with the analyses showing that support and

recruitment correlated with increased repression, and interview evidence demonstrating

causality.

Reluctance and Reactance

Active support for either side from the general population was typically cautious or

reluctant. As long as the conflict outcome was uncertain most people sought to stay ‘on the

fence’, which in practice meant demonstrating a minimum level of cooperation with the

dominant party. This was rational: Red selectively assassinated those who actively cooperated

with the regime whilst any indication of support for Red could lead to jail or worse.

Active and willing shift 142of support towards Blue was the usually the result of increased

(or dramatically decreased) threat or harm from Red rather than persuasion. In similar vein,

140 In Turkey including ‘reckless punishment’, ‘unidentified political and extrajudicial killings’ and ‘burning and bombing’ 141 For instance in Turkey, even as military operations were driving the PKK into the mountains, across the border and killing them in large numbers, young Kurds continued to make an increasingly difficult and dangerous trek to join them. Multiple factors eventually stopped this flow but the decisive one was separation: the PKK had been driven east over the borders and the restive population driven west 142 In Turkey there was some early ‘spontaneous’ recruitment to the Korucu by tribes clearly at greater threat from the PKK and then finally widespread recruitment as the PKK collapsed. In Kampuchea shift of support from insurgents to the PRK was generally associated with brutal behaviour by the KR and the increasing strength of the PRK later in the conflict can be understood as driven by a need for self-defence in the face of encroaching threat. Propaganda seems to have mainly been effective when it leveraged real threats rather than because of idealistic claims


shifts143 in support away from Blue and towards Red were associated with counterinsurgent

harm.

Cross-case Finding: Most internal support for Red or Blue was reluctant and coerced.

Willing shifts of support towards one party were usually the result of increased threat or

harm from the other party rather than persuasion.

Discussion: This finding supports those who argue that reactance is a major mechanism

in ACV.

8.4 FINDINGS FROM CROSS-CASE ASSESSMENT OF THE STRATEGIC IMPACT OF SUPPORT AND ITS SHIFTS

Sub-Analysis C asked the questions:

‘How did popular support influence the outcome and duration of the conflict?

‘What was the strategic importance of popular support compared to other factors?

We have seen that both144 insurgencies were similarly enabled, driven and ultimately

ended by changing levels of external support. However, there was a marked strategic difference

that merits comparison in that in Kampuchea both parties had theoretically sound strategies

whilst in Turkey both sides started with flawed approaches.

In Kampuchea145 the insurgents pursued an ultimately successful cost-coercion strategy,

whilst the Vietnamese sought to isolate the country to enable its rebuilding. Both sides could

143 Those voluntarily joining the PKK did so in response to Turkish behavior, whilst Khmer insurgents almost invariably reported being motivated by oppression and injustice (usually labeled Vietnamese, but often actually administered by the PRK). One apparent exception is that the formation of the insurgent coalition under Sihanouk was intrinsically widely popular, but this may well have been interpreted as placing a constraint on the KR and thus a reduction in the threat represented by their return 144 In Kampuchea this saw the USSR and Vietnam on the one side and China, ASEAN, the USA and Thailand on the other. Neither side proved able to develop decisive levels of popular support before external geopolitical factors forced first the PAVN withdrawal and then the Paris agreement. In Turkey shifts in Syrian aid and a power vacuum along the Iraqi border marked the beginning and the end of the campaign whilst varying levels of support from other neighbours strongly shaped the course of the campaign. The PKK fairly quickly reached the low levels of popular support needed to protract the conflict and eventually began to reach levels that put it on a trajectory to represent a military threat, but the Turks were able to break this, partly by denying external refuges. Their pressure on Syria cut decisively cut external support and enabled decapitation of the PKK 145 In Kampuchea, both sides had the capacity to conduct military operations without popular support, considered winning such support important, yet proved unable to achieve this. The insurgent’s initial focus on a PAVN withdrawal driven by cost-coercion strategy was plausible and ultimately proved successful, albeit because of the loss of Soviet economic support. This was theoretically independent of domestic support, given ‘captive’ manpower and external support to the insurgency via Thailand and thus difficult for the Vietnamese to counter. The later (post-withdrawal phase) insurgent approach of incrementally growing support and gaining territory at a level unlikely to trigger a Vietnamese return was also appropriate, but was undermined by the paradox that the KR constituted the most capable military force in the insurgent coalition, yet the threat of their return provided the primary motivation binding support to the PRK. Counterfactual examination does not suggest superior approaches that could have avoided including the KR and thus limiting popular support. The Vietnamese strategy was to isolate the country from major infiltration in order to provide a breathing space for the PRK to become a viable state capable of defending itself, and it initially did remarkably well in developing an adequate administration from nothing. However, the conscription and brutal (Khmer administered) measures taken to construct K5 and sustain the PKRAF combined with perceptions of the regime as KR-tainted and Vietnamese


fight without popular support, pursued it as vital yet failed to obtain it, with Vietnamese measures

to secure the country undermining legitimacy. Superior counterfactual alternative options146 are

not evident for either side.

In Turkey the PKK combined147 an unappealing Marxist message with violent alienation

of the population. They proved able to learn148 and shifted successfully to a nationalist

movement but misjudged their Maoist timing and launched guerilla warfare prematurely at great

cost. The Turks first misjudged the threat and then dogmatically149 refused to recognize and

address the ethnic engine of the conflict. They prevailed150 through conventional military means

and displacing the Kurdish constituency but embedded a long-term threat. Both parties thus

demonstrated151 flawed strategies.

Cross-case Finding: External support factors drove and ended both insurgencies. Good

strategy that emphasized popular support was not sufficient to prevail; bad strategy

disregarding popular support did not dictate failure: however popular support drove

protraction.

Discussion: These findings are consistent with the contemporary theorists who follow

Record’s emphasis on external support and ‘complex conflict’ understandings of COIN, although

popular support is rarely so specifically cited as driving protraction.

dominated to fatally undermine PRK legitimacy, leading to a withdrawal of support. This in turn led to a PKRAF that was incapable of securing K5 or defending the whole country. 146 Counterfactual examination superficially suggests alternative approaches, for instance the PAVN might have chosen to occupy K5, administer the construction and conscription themselves and reduced the ideological intensity of their interaction with the Khmers. However these options would not have been consistent with the diplomatic need to portray reducing PAVN involvement, nor ideologically compatible with the Vietnamese domestic project. 147 The PKK initially naively assumed that its Marxist message had the appeal to enable a Maoist popular strategy, whilst using techniques such as conscription that disregarded central tenets of not alienating the peasant base. 148 The PKK did demonstrate some capacity to learn, recalibrate its killing of Kurds and shifted to a nationalist identity. The centralized control ruthlessly enforced by Öcalan certainly avoided the problem of factionalized leadership that bedeviled so many previous Kurdish rebellions but sowed the seeds of eventual decapitation and inhibited all operational flexibility. This was manifest when the PKK attempt to move to a guerilla warfare strategy proved premature as it did not have the capability to fight effectively in large groups 149 At the beginning of the conflict the Turks failed to recognize the insurgent threat and then, blinded by Kemalist dogma, denied the ethnic engine of the conflict, treating it as a problem of economic deprivation (which they did not attempt to address) and foreign interference. The result was a ruinously expensive conflict that killed over 40k, and subjected millions of Turkish national-servicemen to brutal internal strife 150 The Turks eventually prevailed by confronting the threats posed from across their borders but systematically refused to attempt to secure popular support, rather displacing the ‘disloyal’ Kurds to western Turkey and countries beyond where they have provide the basis of a renewed fight. 151 In support of this view of flawed strategies, counterfactual probing suggests that if the PKK had maintained better relationships with Iraqi Kurds and been more operationally flexible they might have sustained the fight longer and forced the Turkish state to negotiate autonomy. Conversely, had the Turks offered the Kurds limited local self government, language and cultural freedom the ground could probably have been cut from beneath the PKK


8.5 FINDINGS FROM MATRIX-MAPPING COMPLIANCE BEHAVIOUR

Sub-analysis D begins to consider the nature of shifts in support using a new tool: matrix

mapping. McCormick’s original linear model of shift support provides a coarse, if clear,

understanding but does not capture the important nuances that reducing support for Blue is not

synonymous with increased support for Red, though many intuitively assume this. The 3x3

descriptive-analytic matrix introduced earlier distinguishes between possible combinations of

support, coerced support or resistance to both Red and Blue and offers clearer labels and better

visualisation of coerced shifts.

This presentation of the findings of matrix-mapping analysis highlights that ‘deserting’

Blue is not synonymous with ‘joining’ Red. In the first phases of both conflicts, notwithstanding

distrust or even hatred of Blue and sympathy for the Red cause, constituency behaviour was

firmly Contra-red. Few people supported the insurgents freely and most resented coercion from

both sides but rarely resisted that of Blue whilst they still did that of Red. Gradually Blue robust

measures did begin to increase Red recruitment, but much more seriously they shifted the

constituencies from their Contra-red inclination towards Pragmatism or Red-realism. The impact

of severely robust measure in Phase III of may have reduced Red capability but both embedded

the prior shift and triggered recruitment to Red. Less obviously it ‘splintered’ compliance

behaviour making the Blue assessment and response problem far harder.

Cross-case Finding: Changes in compliance behaviour show that Blue robust action

shifted constituencies from a position where they tended to comply with Blue and resist

or evade Red towards compliance with Red or even resisting or evading Blue. Any

coerced shifts towards Blue were offset by those towards Red.

Discussion: This matrix analysis highlights the importance of distinguishing desertion

from counter-mobilisation and suggests that COIN practitioner’s linear perspective leads to lost

opportunity.

8.6 SUMMARY SHIFT FINDINGS

The above three sections address various aspects of the shift of support. Together their

findings can be summarised as follows:

In both conflicts, most support for either side had to be coerced; where willingly given

it was usually reactance against adversary violent coercion. Blue robust action failed to

coercively reduce Red support and when intense it increased net Red recruitment.


8.7 FINDINGS FROM CROSS-CASE ANALYSIS OF FACTORS SHIFTING SUPPORT: THE LITERATURE’S PREDICTIONS

Sub-Analysis E asked: what factors shifted support in the conflict? To investigate this it

focused on phase shifts152 of interest where VTFS coded insurgent support being suppressed and

then resurging: around Phase II in both Kampuchea and Turkey. The cases were examined to

see which of the ‘predicted’ factors identified in the literature were operating. In both instances

desertion of Blue was associated with loss of trust; in Kampuchea because fraternal assurances

proved false, and in Turkey because of state failure to protect. In both countries a demand to

fight ethnic brethren also imposed axiological constraint and, failure of robust state methods was

also a possible compounding factor. Counter-mobilisation in favour of Red (which logically

subsumes desertion) in both countries occurred in association with immediate and personal

threat in both countries with novelty and inequity in Kampuchea and the conceptually related

humiliation in Turkey. When effective suppression finally occurred associated with robust

measures in the final phase in Turkey, a strong capacity relative to the environment was the only

predictive factor.

The set of shift-factors from the literature is limited, is evidently incomplete 153 and the

method does not account for subtle shifts or reactance against Red. The only clear new factor

was population deprivation. However a limited finding can be made identifying which of the

‘known’ factors operated.

8.7.1 Cross-case Factors Findings

Finding: Desertion of Blue was associated and logically linked with weakness and loss

of integrity, evident failure of state robust strategy, failure to protect and other acts that

lose trust. Further counter-mobilising towards Red was associated and logically linked

with immediate Blue threat and offending of values. Effective suppression was

associated and logically linked with Blue relative strength and a new provisional factor

of population deprivation measures.

152 In Kampuchea red was unable to maintain force size and internal support was reduced during Phase I, the both effects ceased in Phase II occurred again in Phase III (the K5 offensive). In Turkey this constraining effect on red happened at Phases II and IV. 153 For example support for the PKK was seen to reduce slightly because the targeting of Korucu families, whilst discriminate, appears to some extent to have triggered an ‘axiological shift’. It also seems likely that material and physical conditions are important factors, for instance hunger and other forms of severe deprivation may offer conditions under which populations can be driven to cooperate to survive and make robust measures such as collective punishment or imprisonment of breadwinners a more potent threat. Physical and psychological exhaustion also reduce the capacity for the population to aid insurgents. They incidentally reduce the price of co-opting supporters by ‘reward’, however any failure to then provide compliant populations with necessities will inevitably undermine any state legitimacy.


Discussion: This finding echoes those that argue ‘populations follow winners and

heightens the possibility that coercive, rather than enforcive, repression is interpreted as a sign of

weakness.

8.8 FINDINGS FROM EXAMINING THE MECHANISMS OF REDUCING INSURGENT EFFECTIVENESS

Sub-Analysis - F asked: what were the mechanisms that reduced the effectiveness of the

insurgency and how do robust actions fit? The systems model provided a comparative

framework for analysing the processes of insurgency. The first three categories of mechanism

are militarily conventional in character and emphasise reducing tangible ‘means’ and

‘opportunity’. The fourth analytic category ‘Reducing active Red support’ is obviously more

directly relevant to the research question, but comparison of this mechanism with the first three

offers insights and the ability to make judgements about the relative importance and effectiveness

of different mechanisms. The mechanism ‘increasing active Blue support’ was added during

write-up. This seeks to change red constituency ‘intent’: a less tangible proposition which may,

and in these cases did, centre on coercive methods.

8.8.1 Reducing Insurgent Activity Value: Defence and Degradation


In both countries the full suite of military defensive and response methods reduced the

impact and increased the cost of Red operations. Military engineering works to protect and

separate, especially in Turkey, made the attack of outposts and military positions an increasingly

expensive proposition. For significant periods the PAVN deliberately concentrated its forces in

camps outside town with similar and dislocation benefit. Neither counterinsurgent was able to

keep routes secure, but the Turks eventually exploited aviation to impose casualty penalties on

PKK ambushes and raids. In both conflicts in early phases Blue could rarely find and fix the

insurgents though in Turkey this changed when a retrained and reorganised army took the battle

to the mountains just as the PKK unwisely shifted to large scale guerrilla warfare. This

combined with Turkish use of ‘pseudo gangs’ and other unconventional measures to degrade

PKK capability, impose attrition and force the PKK on the defensive. Late in the Kampuchean

conflict the PRK gained defensive advantage as the fighting moved out of the jungle cover

towards open land and towns.

8.8.2 Reducing Insurgent Activity Production: Disruption and Decapitation



Both Blue forces used large-scale conventional military operations inside and on the

borders of the country against main Red bases to disrupt ’train and sustain’ function for periods

of many months. In Turkey disruption was imposed well beyond this level with elite close

combat and heli-mobile forces taking the fight to the insurgents in the mountains and forests,

keeping them on the run. The multiple, well-supported, Khmer insurgent organisations were

relatively invulnerable to decapitation, but Öcalan’s cult of personality and the PKK’s rigid

hierarchy meant that his capture was devastating.

8.8.3 Reducing External Support for Insurgents: Isolating and Demotivating



Both Blue forces sought to shut off external support across the border and were able to

reduce but not stop the flow of personnel and materiel. However, the failure of the massive effort

of K5 to fully isolate was more critical for the Vietnamese who because of Thai military strength

and alliances could neither prevent the latter’s support for the insurgents nor strike at insurgent

camps located deeper in Thailand. Turkish cross-border operations also isolated the PKK by

forcing them into remote areas and its military and diplomatic strength eventually ended most

external support to the PKK.

Cross-case Finding: In both countries Blue was able to use defensive measures and

degrade Red sufficiently during response operations to keep military damage to Blue at

sustainable levels. In Turkey improving army response to PKK attacks inflicted

unsustainable losses and forced them onto the defensive. Similarly in both conflicts

conventional Blue raids on Red external camps heavily disrupted training and sustaining

functions. The Turks went further, disrupting PKK operations in-country and then

decapitating the organisation by capturing Öcalan. In both countries Blue were able to

interrupt but not isolate Red from external support using border barriers which greatly

reduced resource flows and so Red combat power. The Turks also isolated the PKK by

forcing them into remote areas and demotivated external support to the PKK by applying

military threat and diplomatic effort. In short, the three categories of conventional

military operations to reduce means and opportunity had significant individual, and

cumulatively major, impact on insurgent effectiveness.


8.8.4 Increasing Active Support for the State: Recruitment to Blue

What mechanisms increased154 active support for state activities?

In both conflicts Blue created a ‘compulsory’ self-defence militia. In Kampuchea it had

a clearly defensive character, and though not very effective in preventing village infiltration,

there was little resistance to joining, though the incentives were small. In contrast, in Turkey the

well-paid Korucu were expected to help take the fight to the PKK and joining was an act of

loyalty to the state that became a test under the threat, ‘join or leave’ deliberately intended to

deny constituency neutrality. Some did join under this pressure, though this created a force that

became a liability155. However, a huge number of Kurds refused to be coerced into allegiance to

the state and fled at immediate risk to their lives, abandoning all they had. Villagers only joined

the Korucu in large numbers after the PKK was obviously in decline, which suggests state

‘counter-coercion’ played an important role that eventual decision. In Kampuchea the

Vietnamese and the PRK gave no such option with their coercive conscription for their military

and K5 construction, the latter under the effective threat of collective punishment. In both

countries this was impellent coercion (since obedience was obvious) and compliance156 was high.

However the counterproductive consequence was surging desertion from Blue and some counter-

mobilisation to Red. As previously described, one of the most potent tools for generating active

support for Blue was Red actions. Insurgent atrocity generally was insufficient. That merely

shifted constituencies to ’contra-red’ or ‘neutral’ positions. It was indignation over insurgent

execution of those who had joined Blue under duress that pushed some to shift to Blue.

Cross-case Finding: Blue was able to use impellent coercion to gain ‘active support’

and destroy any neutral ground, but the price was further shifts away from Blue.

Discussion: Contrasting the different uses of militias suggest that employing them in a

self-defensive role achieves vital security objectives with less reactance to that higher demand for

loyalty and without the dangers (to all parties) of giving ungoverned forces the authority to

conduct offensive operations or using them as primary intelligence sources: both highly open to

abuse in pursuit of personal agendas as Kalyvas (2006) has shown.

154 The research instrument questions actually only asked about the mechanisms ‘increasing support for the BLUE’ or ‘decreasing support for RED’, but as we have seen the effect was often actually opposite to that intended . For convenience we will expand the scope of discussion to consider ‘shifts’. 155 The Korucu was decreasingly under state control, was manipulated as a tool of repression or a cover for state agents, pursued violence for gain rather than simply to combat the PKK and became a series of expensive private armies on the state payroll. 156 In Turkey compliance means ‘join or leave’, not simply join the Korucu.


8.8.5 Reducing Internal Support for Insurgents

What mechanisms may have reduced internal support (inputs) for production of


The measures may be conveniently divided into ‘dislocative’ or coercive methods.

Dislocative Methods

In both conflicts the defensive measures designed to protect communities from

insurgent attack tended to assist in isolating them: making giving support difficult and perhaps

more importantly reducing the degree of Red coercion. The most dramatic dislocative measure

was the clearance of the mountains in Turkey which cut the PKK off from cover, essential

resources and effective support, shifting a residual population to a minimum ‘token’ or

‘compromise’ loyalty. One part of the mechanism was that the denuded countryside no longer

had the resources for the peasants to live on, which kept them too exhausted to provide support

and even less willing to yield food. The clearance demonstrated that the popular support that

sustains an insurgency can be displaced and subdued albeit at the cost of dramatically increased

latent support.

Finding: In Turkey clearance of the population and devastation of the countryside was

an effective means of reducing active support to Red

Coercive Methods

There are competing understandings of how coercion operates, as described157 in

Chapter 1. Insurgency scholars have emphasized ‘rule enforcement’; coercion is more effective

if the violence is discriminate, comprehensible and followed warning. The inference is that a

target of influence is able to act to avoid sanction, but this is often subsumed in the notion of

discrimination and not made explicit. The cases show behavior that broadly conforms to theory

but demands a better description.

There was a clear difference in the effectiveness of coercion according to the

verifiability158 of the behavior demanded of the target: impellent coercion surpasses deterrent

157 The classical or deterrence theory of coercion proposes its effectiveness is proportional to certainty, celerity and severity of consequence (which we shall call sanction reliability), with most theorists prioritizing certainty and some arguing excessive severity can be counterproductive. Becker suggested an actor with high risk tolerance (which includes those acting under emotion) was better coerced with high certainty. 158 ‘Impellent’ coercion applied by blue forces generally succeeded in coercing transparent activity such as conscription in Kampuchea or village evacuation in Turkey. However impellent coercion was less successful at extracting reliable information in either country, even when backed by torture, because compliance was not transparent. Suppressive or deterrent use of coercion to reduce support to insurgents was generally ineffective, though there was a notable early exception.


forms. In both conflicts159 people were initially very reluctant to openly support Red because of

the threat of Blue reprisal: coercive deterrence operated. However, perhaps counter-intuitively,

once feared repression materialised this inhibition waned.

There was also a marked difference in the apparent effectiveness of Red and Blue

coercion. This is partly accounted for by visibility: Red was coercing the transparent present

provision of resources or even recruits whilst Blue was trying to coerce invisible future acts.

Probably more importantly, Red appeared at least, to ‘play160 by a set of rules’, no matter how

brutal. Blue forces were more disposed to punish without discrimination, were assertive and

seeking to intimidate, had little reliable information and were often both neither concerned nor

able to guard against false information fed as a result of local feuds or Red misinformation.

Conversely Red generally allowed constituents to conceal their support from Blue, but

conversely Blue often sought public demonstration of loyalty. The logical but frequently

disregarded crux is that coercion was much more effective if the demanded behaviour was within

the capacity of the target and compliance immediately evident to the coercer but hidden from the

opponent. These factors also seem to account for the relative success161 of collective punishment

compared to individual sanction to enforce recruitment in Kampuchea and a lesser extent in

Turkey.

Observation-Turkey: The coercive deterrent effect from the threat of robust Blue

action was strongest prior to such action occurring.

Cross-case Finding: Coercive control effectiveness is not only a function of certainty,

celerity and severity (sanction reliability) but of target accountability, compliance

feasibility, compliance verifiability and adversary detection.

Discussion: The apparent early deterrent value of unrealised threat by Blue accords with

psychological theory that attributes such caution to anxiety, caution that will evaporate in the face

of anger at unjust behaviour.

159 For instance, as outlined in the background, the Kurdish population had long experience of brutal Ottoman and Turkish response to rebellion and were, as the PKK itself acknowledged, widely reluctant to provoke the state by supporting the insurgents. 160 The Khmer non-KR insurgents and the PKK were or learned to be highly politicly sensitive to the need to appear ‘harsh but fair’ to constituents, they had the local knowledge to do so and as the weaker party were cautious about when and where they acted 161 Compellance relying on collective punishment of the community or the leader (K5 conscription liabilities were placed on the krom samakai collective agricultural structure ) was more effective than relying on more personal sanctions (military conscription) where evaders themselves were punished, but generally not others unless they were clearly party to the evasion. Similarly the threat to kill village leaders succeeded in driving communities to enlist in the Korucu more often than prior random killings of young men of the community. In these cases the hierarchical community structure had the capacity to deliver compliance. This can be contrasted with the generally ineffective use of deterrent collective punishment of communities in areas where attacks had occurred. This was only useful when applied against the non-communist Khmer insurgents, as the KR and PKK were generally unconcerned about BLUE/BLACK reprisals.



The dominant mechanism for reducing insurgent effectiveness in both conflicts was

conventional military operations. Border barriers limited Red logistic flow, defensive measures

kept loss exchanges levels sustainable for Blue, offensive operations disrupted Red train and

sustain capacity and in Turkey broke the guerrilla warfare campaign. The harsh clearance of the

SE Turkish Mountains ‘worked’ by changing the environment, not through coercive threats. The

latter, though it forced some into the Korucu increased Red recruitment also created a massive

latent pool of support. Coercive deterrence did aid Blue but only until the feared threat began to

be applied, after this coercion favoured Red who demanded feasible and verifiable behaviour that

was hidden from Blue.

8.9 ADDITIONAL OBSERVATIONS

In the course of the analysis of the Kampuchean conflict two other observations were

made. Longstanding and contemporary COIN thinking going back to TE Lawrence suggests a

central role for indigenous forces and administrations because of they are less likely to antagonise

the population than an alien force. The Vietnamese gave the KPRAF a central role for this and

other reasons. However brutal PRK administration of K5 and PRKAF recruiting served to

antagonise the Khmer community more than any other factors, although the blame was put on the

Vietnamese by association. The related ineffectiveness of the KPRAF when securing the barrier

undermined the overall Vietnamese strategy: the Khmer troops were less competent and more

repressive than the PAVN. However, towards the end of the conflict, as Vietnamese

involvement was dramatically reduced and the conflict approached civil war, the KPRAF,

especially the militias, became concurrently both more effective and more brutal without causing

a significant loss of support in the now polarised constituencies.

Observations

o The use of robust measures may have less negative impact in the context of an

insurgency shifting to larger conflict

o Indigenous forces are not a panacea

8.10 RESEARCH CONCLUSIONS

This thesis asks the research question; “Robust action, such as escalating repression or

collective punishment by a COIN force may, for psychologically explicable reasons, be

popularly and/or politically expected to coercively reduce support for insurgents. In fact it is

often counterproductive because it promotes counter-mobilisation or desertion in favour of


insurgents for similarly explicable psychological reasons. Sometimes, however, robust action

appears to be associated with reduced support for an insurgency. What are the mechanisms and

is this because of compulsion or coercion?"

This thesis has run bivariate analysis on the 30 most recently resolved insurgencies

worldwide to show that robust measures are consistently and strongly associated with a failure to

gain intelligence or reduce internal support to insurgents. The mechanics of two most likely

cases for suppression to succeed were analysed in detail, using the theoretical model of two

advocates of robust measures to draw the conclusions listed below;

Shifts in support towards either adversary were:

o reluctant,

o not reciprocal; and

o generated by reactance.

Robust Blue action:

o drove desertion of Blue,

o suppressed Red support through enforcement not coercion; and

o caused net increased recruitment as it intensified.

Coercion generally:

o initially deterred insurgent support through fear of unrealised Blue threat,

o failed when Blue demanded behaviour that was infeasible, not verifiable and

public; and

o succeeded when Red demanded feasible, evident behaviour and concealed it

from Blue.

The reduced internal support for the insurgencies was far more due to the direct and

indirect material effects of the use of military force than of apprehension of consequence,

notwithstanding the opposite effect at an interstate support level.

This thesis has focussed on two campaigns for which there were good reasons to expect

that robust coercive methods had reduced support for insurgents and it would be possible to

identify the conditions that enabled this suppression: in fact this was not found.


8.11 IMPLICATIONS, CONTRIBUTION AND EXTENSIONS

What do these conclusions mean for theory, future research and COIN practice?

8.11.1 Theoretical

The crucial contribution of this study is to refute in two ‘most likely to succeed’ test

cases the notion that in a large scale ACV context, severe behavior will deter. In this, the finding

contradicts the central deterrence proposition advocates of an ‘iron fist’ such as Netanyahu.

However, this study does not prove a case for the social model of COIN, nor even for the

‘restrained’ model. It does not disprove the use of the combat model: killing insurgents is not

challenged. What it does show is why threat–severity based ‘repressive’ models intended to

shape and influence popular support have inherently counterproductive aspects. Repression will

not necessarily fail, but can be expected to protract any given level of conflict. The study

presents a challenge to those associated ‘cost-benefit analysis’ theorists who would suggest a

‘rational actor’ reduction in support to the insurgency in the face of coercion and repression when

the opposite actually occurred, although the thresholds of reaction vary with exposure and

cultural context as Arreguín-Toft (2005a) proposed. Nevertheless, there remain cases outside the

timescale of the VTFS sample that may appear to favour repression, such as the British

suppression of the Mau-Mau in Kenya and Malayan Emergency; these now deserve testing162

with a similar approach.

We have seen in the literature that State coercion is broadly theorized to operate as a

function of certainty, celerity and severity, with some rational actor and other theorists arguing

severity can counterbalance lack of certainty. Others with a focus on ACV have argued the

importance of concepts such as ‘transformation rules’ which relate to and infer the importance of

‘certainty’. This study favours ‘certainty’ as the crucial element of this ‘sanction reliability’ but

proposes that in an ACV context this should be related to a new construct of feasibility,

verifiability and concealment of the demanded behaviours. These additional construct elements

may be of equal importance and further research testing of their influence is merited.

This thesis evidently echoes the views of the ‘reactance’ theorists and its findings add to

the arguments of Silke, Mueller and many others who emphasise counterproductive response

under many labels and it particularly aligns with theorists of civil war such as Wood (2003) who

argue that, when faced by threat, desire for agency trumps rational actor behavior, as well as

psychologists of emotion who explain counterproductive response in terms of affect-driven bias.

The finding that at the beginning of the two campaigns the red constituency was both

Contra-red and contra-Blue is not original (though the phrasing may be) but the matrix

162 Although it is expected that existing explanations such as the Malayan Communist party’s ethnic minority status and the British coopting of tribal factionalism in Kenya will continue to account for the outcomes and that the use of population relocation in both cases will support this thesis’s emphasis on impellent coercion.


visualization does force us to reflect more deeply on what factors are primary levers in the early

stages of an insurgency. This study has established that Blue suppressive coercion is

counterproductive generally, but the clear evidence only emerged as the intensity of the

campaign grew. In the early stages the support factors were still conflated, but it seems possible

that most Red support was indeed coerced by Red, a behavior that would tend to generate

decisive reactance effects in favour of Blue, but for the concurrent and larger scale coercion of

Blue. The author recalls that in the Libiki pilot study, in every case examined initially the

population was apparently, on average, contra-red. The early-stage shift of popular opinion

merits closer comparative examination.

This thesis opened by proposing that a state decision to use exemplary force against

ACV is typically and perhaps inherently iatrogenic. That proposition must counter the advocates

of robust action who tap into instinctive punitive responses and offer historical cases to show that

rebellion can be thus crushed. This study shows that in such cases suppression flowed from

direct enforcement and impellent coercive effects, not from purported coercive deterrent and

suppressive effects of repression. Repression is thus definitely inefficient and typically

ineffective: this finding establishes a research case for examination of decisions to use robust

force as instances of an I-Syndrome.

8.11.2 Methodological

The failure of the first two pilot studies to ‘deliver’ for this thesis perversely highlights

research opportunities. The Lutz and Lutz pilot identified several pairs of conflicts which invite

comparative examination of applied repression as ‘natural experiments’ where broadly similar

situations led to different outcomes. The most striking opportunity163 would be to juxtapose the

Irish War of Liberation, with the invigoration of resistance by British brutality with the following

less well-known and more ‘successful’ repression of the IRA by the Irish Free State. More

simply, an extension of the relatively straightforward pilot coding of classes of suppressive or

counterproductive event, over a more statistically robust set164 of conflicts, would allow165 testing

of the proposition of a change in the character of ACV post 1946. An even more valuable,

though much larger, project might be to continue the piloted analysis of four classes of ‘early

stage’ repressive events in the ‘Libiki’s List’ set of insurgencies, but now with an increased focus

on the competing Red and Blue coercion that this thesis has highlighted but not properly

described.

163 Other prime contrast cases of repression of revolutionary movements are the different outcomes of; North (US) and South American (Tupac Amaru II) rebellion, Balkan Christian (e.g. Serb or Greek) and Armenian ‘Categorical Terrorism’ campaigns against the Ottoman Empire and the LKA against the Serbs and the Albanians against the Macedonians. 164 This would need to be a set of perhaps 400 in order to have statistically valid subset periods of interest. 165 Not pursued as this is a different enquiry to that addressed by this thesis.


The ‘two-axis’ matrix visualization of compliance introduced in this thesis appears to

offer a promising new approach for ‘support-shift-mapping analysis’ of ACV, notwithstanding

an undoubted need for refinement166 of the 3 x 3 layout. Its greatest advantage is that it is

predicated on observed behavior rather than seeking proxies for unobservable preferences. The

use of the Leites and Wolf systems model of insurgency to derive the questions for ‘structured-

focused’ analysis proved appropriate for the purpose of comparing coercive with non-coercive

processes but also seems to offer scope for addressing wider questions about ACV.

Notwithstanding that Leites and Wolf’s theories underpinned the counterproductive US

application of robust measures in Vietnam, it is this authors experience that there is no bias in the

model itself and it deserves redemption as a one of a set of tools by which to explain ACV to

students.

Another research avenue rejected because of lack of technical expertise is psychological

experimentation and attitudinal survey. Whilst it is difficult to access insurgents or find proxy

subjects for them, if the research focus is moved from violent actor to influence target focus,

there is far more scope. As mentioned above it would be very useful to better understand shifts

of support early in ACV. This thesis has shown that reactance is a major factor during high level

ACV but has also suggested the possibility that reactance may be critical early on. It would be

possible and probably productive to reach and survey actual constituencies167 exposed to

developing ACV for attitude shifts toward Red and Blue, and relate these to violent actions.

However, even ‘low cost’ scenario-and-attitude experimentation on student populations offers

the prospect of investigating whether and how perceptions of and reactions vary with functionally

similar violence by different perpetrators (Red or Blue) or with coercive violence with different

characteristics of sanction reliability, coercive verifiability and visibility. This is particularly

appropriate for examining domestic responses to potential future ACV.

8.11.3 Study and practice of ACV

As stated above this thesis does not eschew state violence, however a challenging

inference of the findings is that the productive function of state military violence is to reduce

insurgent ‘means’ and ‘opportunity’ at a distance from the insurgent constituency. Blue risks

‘backlash’ employing force amongst populations (even protectively) and force will be thoroughly

counterproductive if used to coercively sanction support for Red. This is in philosophical

tension, not just with conventional military ‘manouverist168‘, ‘effects-based’ concepts of warfare

but contemporary concepts of COIN, a dissonance that deserves exploration.

166 One obvious challenge being the somewhat dissonant notion of ‘uncoerced compliance’ with both RED and BLUE in the top right descriptor box, although it can be dealt with by ‘splitting’ that box. 167 For instance; S. Thailand, Pakistan Tribal areas. 168 Where the supreme art is to break the enemy will to resist.


If most constituency support shift against the state is indeed due to a mix of reactance

against Blue behavior and Red enforcement-coercion that Blue does not have the surveillance to

match, then the community-unsolicited use of Blue force amongst Red constituencies is fraught.

Certainly, there is a strong case for only doing so at force levels and ratios that totally dominate

and can achieve compliance through certain enforcement rather than an uncertain coercive threat.

This may of course be a challenge for small armies like Australia’s. If it is not feasible, there is

an ethical conundrum of whether to deliberately limit operations against Red wherever its violent

coercion is working in Blue’s favour. In this case, a need to do ‘something’ would seem to

support those COIN theorists who argue for the empowering of local leaders and structures.

The finding that (whatever the consequence) collective punishment delivered effective

impellent ‘recruitment’ coercion also suggest that strong local hierarchies can be still be

exploited, at least in traditional societies. This poses important questions about mechanisms.

Earlier it was observed that the European powers prevailed consistently for several centuries

against ‘asymmetric’ rebellions. Some theorists suggest a post-WW2 change of attitude by and

about Imperial powers as enabling the ‘wars of colonial liberation’, however it may have been

more to do with a breakdown in traditional structures. Perhaps in a quasi-feudal or tribal society

where individuals accord full legitimacy to a local leader who himself offers fealty and tribute

upwards in return for support in crushing internal dissent, collective punishment for ‘disloyalty’

may seem no more unjust than the brutal sanctions typically used to punish individual

transgression. It is possible that the reactance process this thesis described may have operated

less strongly in the past. Whilst collective punishment is no longer a legal option, and we have

seen its negative consequences, the conditions under which it is ‘effective’ merit further

investigation because of what this tells us about coercion, and a contemporary opportunity

presents itself as Pakistan toys with dismantling the Federally Administered Tribal Area (FATA)

laws that currently permit its extensive use (Fazali, 2011).

The two cases offer related insights about the use of local militias169. Their use as sole

or primary sources to identify insurgents appears very unwise because, as Kalvyas’s work shows,

local feuds and interests will corrupt the information. The findings on early compliance shifts

suggest that the crucial role of a militia might be ‘minimalist self-defence’ empowerment of

contra-red authority structures to reduce their vulnerability to Red coercion. This is far more

achievable than polarizing ambitions of unconditional loyalty to Blue or directed offensive

operations against Red: it may be sufficient if the militia initially have local legitimacy and are

configured to not actually constitute another threat to the state. How this might be done to 169 The RPK’s militia was broadly supported, uncontroversial, passive and not very effective but did address the requirement to ‘do something’ and denied uncontested mass coercion of villagers resources by the KR. The Korucu was established as a proactive organization from minority loyal tribes, capable of and empowered to execute violence on its own initiative. It lacked legitimacy, became a prime target for the PKK and when strengthened in response became an uncontrolled agent of and concealment for oppression, extortion and other crime.


enhance political initiatives and without creating future obstructive third forces deserves study. It

would be highly instructive to compare the differently unsuccessful PRK militia and Korucu with

other more effective counterparts, the strategically decisive use of the largely ex-insurgent

‘firqat’ militia in Oman and the operationally successful use of Combined Action Platoons

(CAP) by the US in Vietnam.

8.11.4 Final Thoughts

Where an authority in a constituency has broad Weberian legitimacy, coercive force

‘works’ because community consensus informs policing and judicial functions sufficiently to

provide culturally adequate levels of ‘coercive reliability’ that combine with social norms of

obedience and conformity to order society. The formula of ‘greater crime equals greater penalty’

appears accepted because sanction is typically inflicted on those society perceives culpable.

An ACV campaign beaks that nexus. Agents of state, operating angrily from their own

moral paradigms of legitimacy instinctively seek to use coercion to suppress or deter resistance.

As social norms are loosened, the nature of oppositional behaviour that is considered

unreasonable shifts. Red constituencies may be more understanding of rebellion whilst Blue

agents become less so. Even if Blue resists its instincts and targets only unequivocally violent

enemies, their reliable identification is problematic. Emotion, self interest, disinformation and

other factors distort and corrupt ‘intelligence’ processes so that punishment is increasingly likely

to fall on those that constituencies perceive as less culpable. Greater punishment may now

represent greater perceived injustice and drive further desertion of Blue in outrage. When the

risk from Blue agents to Red constituents becomes both personally dangerous and unpredictable

and there is no practical and psychologically feasible escape, counter-mobilisation will occur

amongst a proportion of the population that appears to vary with risk and cultural factors. This is

the mechanism which makes aggressive decisions potentially iatrogenic.

Ironically, ‘massive force’ is probably inherently able to deliver at least the reduction in

violence that might allow political solutions to be found. Where Blue has the force ratios and

capabilities to provide predictability, high coercive reliability, verify compliance and make its

visibility to Red irrelevant, ‘massive scale’ can ‘enforce’. However, throughout ACV history we

see Blue counterproductive attempts to substitute for or supplement ‘mass of forces’ with ‘quality

of violence’. This is a proven approach against other states and armies and consistent with

normative notions of crime and punishment, but in ACV dooms its users to protracted or

recurring conflict because the ultimate objective of conciliation is pushed further away (Joes,

2004, p. 19).

Annexe A: Study Materials

Appendix I to Annex A: The Case Analysis Instrument

Preparation and Descriptive Analysis

Identify Categories 1. What categories are suitable for this case?

Distinguish and define suitable categories of the following

Blue robust Action

Other Blue Policy (Controls)

Other Red Policy (Controls)

Describe Phase Shifts 2. What changes occurred at the changes of phase?

Describe by Relevant Phase Changes trends and shifts in

Blue robust Action

Other Blue Policy (Controls)

Other Red Policy (Controls)

Insurgent Support

Validity Check 3. Is the VTFS coding of the phase as ‘effective robust action’ or SUBDUED valid? As part of the paragraph ‘VTFS Phases and outcomes’ ensure that these questions have been addressed

[Is this a one shift or two shift case?]

Was there actually a change to support levels between phases that can be associated with robust action?

What establishes the robust action and locates a change at the phase change?

What establishes changes in support at the phase change?

Did numbers of Red or Blue change significantly during the phase change?

Did if other significant variables change between phases?

Process Analysis: The Strategic Role of Support (Phase Shift)

What was the role of popular support in the conflict and how was it shifted? Strategic Impact of Support 4. How did popular support influence the outcome and duration of the conflict? Describe the whole conflict in terms of the Strategic Violent Coercion and Multiple Support Struggle

Describe the strategic objective(s), strategic targets and strategic levers (support or cost) any identify the ‘battlegrounds for popular support’.

Distinguish the role of escalation (post coercive) versus extension approaches.

Discuss the scope and relevance of a legitimacy struggle to each target.

Describe other factors than support


Constituency Support Shifts 5. How was red, Blue and black support broadly shifted by Blue/black actions and polices?

How did red support shift? Did robust action broadly subdue or counter‐mobilise red and what other factors shifted support?

Describe any influence on red support [including the role of affect] by; red coercion, red inspiration, Blue law and reprisal, Blue robust actions [Blue other actions] ask

How did Blue support shift? Did robust action stimulate or demobilise Blue and what other factors shifted support?

Describe any influence on Blue support [including the role of affect] by; Blue compelled action, Blue inspiration, red threat and reprisal, red robust/violent action [red other action]

Ditto Black

Process Analysis: The Factors Shifting Support (Phase Shift)

What factors shifted support in the conflict?

Fixed Factors for shifting support

SIT factors – identity dissimilarity and if relevant physical distance [different area of same country]. Was the group religious or ethnically distinct and motivated?

Conditions/Factors for DESERTION of Blue/Black Constituency 6. What proposed factors for Blue Constituency DESERT [if any] were present in the conflict and did

they shift at the phase change?

Prolonged exposure – [Timing and experience]

Loss of trust

Mid range threat

Axiological constraint

Failure of robust methods

Latent loss of coopted patriotism

Ask

Did a normative difference open up between decision forming elites and the state?

Was dissent within Blue constituency present?

Was red violence perceived as outrageous?

Was Blue violence perceived as outrageous

Was there sympathy for red?

Conditions/Factors for CMOB of Red Constituency 7. What proposed factors for Red Constituency CMOB [if any] were present in the conflict and did

they shift at the phase change?

Red Common motivating idea

Broad perception of threat

Increased Viability of insurgency

Inequity

Were the robust actions

Novel?

In breach of cultural/societal norms or outrageous?

Was the action notably humiliating?

Immediately and personally threatening?

Main Study Materials Page 277

Conditions/Factors for Subduing of Red Constituency 8. What proposed factors for Red Constituency SUBD [if any] in the conflict and did they shift at the

phase change?

Of selectiveness/discrimination

Discipline to discriminate

Claim to legitimacy [that might have operated on the red constituency]

Strong material capacity relative to environment

Motivation to repress

Process Analysis: Mechanism Level

What were the mechanisms that reduced the effectiveness of the insurgency and how do robust actions fit?

Mechanism of Reducing Insurgent Output Value 9. What mechanisms may have reduced the ‘output value’ of insurgent activities?

PROTECTION and SEPARATION – were given insurgent activities made less productive/destructive by physical means?

o Protective hardening o Detection, delay and exposure o Engagement advantage (height, covered firing positions, cleared fields of fire)

TARGET DISLOCATION – were given insurgent activities made less productive/destructive by displacing targets or insurgents in time or space?

OPERATIONAL ATTRITION – did engagement remove insurgents from the conflict by death or arrest faster than they could be replaced?

CAPACITY DEGREDATION– was extant insurgent capacity for activity reduced? (other than by killing or arrests)

CONSTITUENCY HARM DETERRENCE – did a threat of reprisals onto insurgent constituencies deter or shape insurgent activities?

Soft Measures

ACTIVITY DEVALUATION – was the destructiveness or political harm of insurgent activities rendered less politically relevant or significant?

Mechanism of Reducing Insurgent Activity Production 10. What mechanisms may have reduced the ‘production capacity’ for insurgent activities?

DECAPITATION – was charismatic leadership or other critical and difficult to replace functions removed?

DISRUPTION – were the processes of train or sustain damaged?

Mechanisms of Reducing External Support for Insurgents 11. What mechanisms may have reduced external support (inputs) for production of insurgent

activities?

DEMOTIVATION – were external agents’ motivations to support the insurgents shifted?

ISOLATION – factors limit resources reaching, actors joining or providing active support or information to the insurgents

o Interruption – barrier o Displacement – time and space


Mechanisms of Increasing Active Support for the State


Mechanism of Reducing Internal Support for Insurgents 12. What mechanisms may have reduced (Increasing resource cost and reducing supply) internal

support (inputs) for production of insurgent activities? [Leites & Wolf frame]

Robust Measures

[PERVASIVE] ENFORCIVE CONTROL – was the presence and capability of reliable state actors is at a level whereby (a category of) acts of support would have been perceived as almost certain to be recognised and terminated?

COERCIVE CONTROL – did people comply (induct) withhold (deter) or withdraw (suppress) support through apprehension of a (less than certain) latent threat? (How complete was the ‘rule enforcement ‘?

o Certainty/Credibility ‐ how likely did Blue action seem – what was its reputation? o Celerity ‐How immediate was action? o Persuasiveness ‐ how damaging or severe was the sanction to the individual or

group and was the severity understandable in the circumstances? o Discrimination ‐ was the penalty applied selectively and was it to those believed by

the constituency to be culpable? o Comprehensible‐ Was target selection intelligible and predictable? o Warning – were there explicit or implicit mechanisms of warning? o Compliance cost – was there a cost of complying with Blue and what was its

likelihood?

ANTI‐COERCION – was the insurgent’s opportunity or capacity to coerce reduced?

SUPPORT DISLOCATION/ISOLATION – were measures taken to isolate the constituency from the insurgent by barriers, separation means or displacement in time and space?

o OUT – did factors limit resources reaching, actors joining or providing active support or information to the insurgents?

o IN – did censoring or other factors limit propaganda or other motivating information, resources or benefits reaching the constituency?

EXHAUSTION – high physical demands versus food and rest are o So extreme that capacity for activity is reduced o So extended that all motivation is reduced

Soft Measures

COOPTION – were rewards for cooperation with the state taken?

INCREASED LEGITIMACY? –did people withdraw support because of increased perceived legitimacy of state

DIVERSION/OPPORTUNITY? – Political or other opportunities or divert attention and effort from ACV

Indirect Consequences

BENEFIT CALCULUS – were there changes that fit a cost benefit explanation? o Was the perceived value/merit/credibility of resistance as public good reduced? o Was there a shift in perceptions of probable outcomes? o Were the immediate or future benefits of support for or membership/association

of insurgency reduced? o Did group provision of services end? o Was the protection of individuals or community by insurgents

removed/discredited?


AXIOLOGICAL SHIFT – DE‐MOTIVATION –did people withdraw support for axiological reasons?

o Were cultural or moral inhibitors triggered that disincline the individual to support the insurgents?

DE‐LEGITIMATION – people withdraw support because the insurgent claim to legitimate authority to act or use violence on behalf of the collective is undermined by

o Decreased perceived insurgent group legitimacy especially by actions o Other reduced identification with insurgent collective or insurgent group

Check Questions

Relative Legitimacy 13. What was the role of relative legitimacy? – concurrent to the robust action, Blue gains

legitimacy, red loses it or both?

Increased perceived legitimacy of state

Decreased identification with Unintended/Collateral Damage 14. Was collateral damage a factor?

Was the utility of the attack obvious?

Is responsibility accepted?

Analytic Level – Tests and Checks 15. Test the above deduced conditions

Data Limitations and Alternative Explanations 16. What other views and explanations are relevant?

Major perspectives or tensions between accounts that might influence data. What was the purpose for which the source documents were created?

What are other possible major factors? What other explanation might exist? Do they fit the evidence better or worse

Counterfactual Test 17. What if the repression had been less or greater? Adversary lessons 18. Are there are any major lessons for the adversary?


Appendix II to Annex A: Statistical Test on VTFS Data

Whilst fully cognisant of the implications of running statistical procedures on small

datasets, ANOVA procedures were in SPSS run on RAND VTFS data. This picked out five

variables (Savage 2010)

Two variables have significant results on the predictive results of who wins the conflict –

(clear winner is 1 govt, 2 insurgents or 3-5 for mixed)

COIN force efforts resulted in increased costs for insurgents

COIN force employed local militias or irregular forces or engaged in/enabled

community policing

With a mix of three others in the 6 models

Messages/themes cohered with overall COIN approach

Insurgents made critical strategic errors, failed to make obvious adaptations, or

voluntarily exited the conflict

Decisive (probably terminal, but not necessarily) phase of case (which is an

identification coding present in every case and whilst obviously logically

associated with ‘victory’ is also present in all cases of defeat and therefore an

obvious caveat on drawing inferences from such results.

Coefficientsa

Model

Unstandardized Coefficients

Standardized

Coefficients

t Sig. B Std. Error Beta

1 (Constant) 3.343 .174 19.222 .000

COIN force efforts resulted

in increased costs for

insurgents

-1.554 .370 -.417 -4.199 .000

2 (Constant) 3.385 .170 19.950 .000



insurgents

-1.155 .394 -.310 -2.936 .004

Messages/themes cohered

with overall COIN approach

-1.393 .562 -.261 -2.479 .015

3 (Constant) 3.435 .168 20.499 .000




insurgents

-.922 .400 -.247 -2.308 .024



-1.330 .551 -.250 -2.416 .018

Insurgents made critical

strategic errors, failed to

make obvious adaptations,

or voluntarily exited the

conflict

-1.151 .529 -.216 -2.175 .033

4 (Constant) 2.771 .311 8.912 .000



insurgents

-.738 .394 -.198 -1.872 .065



-1.170 .538 -.220 -2.176 .032





conflict

-1.382 .521 -.259 -2.653 .010

COIN force employed local

militias or irregular forces or

engaged in/enabled

community policing in areas

it controlled or claimed to

control

.846 .338 .238 2.501 .014

5 (Constant) 2.896 .310 9.349 .000



insurgents

-.871 .391 -.233 -2.228 .029



-.777 .557 -.146 -1.396 .167






conflict

-1.298 .511 -.244 -2.537 .013



engaged in/enabled



control

.971 .336 .274 2.891 .005

Decisive (probably terminal,

but not necessarily) phase

of case

-.670 .312 -.206 -2.145 .035

6 (Constant) 2.863 .311 9.216 .000



insurgents

-1.076 .364 -.288 -2.953 .004





conflict

-1.328 .514 -.249 -2.585 .012



engaged in/enabled



control

1.050 .333 .296 3.152 .002

Decisive (probably terminal,

but not necessarily) phase

of case

-.813 .297 -.250 -2.740 .008

a. Dependent Variable: Clear Winner

The data was also run under HPC arrangements through CART (Classification and

Regression Tree) software to check associations (Duplock, 2010). The dependent variable (DV

has the values of 0 or 1, with 1 = the 8 interested conflicts; 0 = the remaining 78 battles), the


below model was obtained. The two variables of importance were: Important_internal_support-

reduced and COIN_force_employed_esclating_repression

The use of these two variables classifies records for the DV with 100% accuracy

indicating the model assesses these two variables to be the two most important determinants if a

case is or is not a conflict of interest. However, the model also assesses a number of other

variables to be important in this classification model – these are described in panel 2 below.

Panel 1 – CART Model

Hence in terms of variables that have some classification ‘power’ – relationship with the

DV, panel 2 shows the appropriate variables.

Panel 2 – other variables of importance

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