Strengthening church capacities for peacebuilding
Drawing together the threads of the conceptual and empirical discussions, this concluding chapter summarizes key findings of this research that set out to trace, contextualize, and measure contributions of reconciliatory church projects in two Southeast Asian conflict regions. Based on these findings, we also discuss some tentative implications for general conflict transformation efforts in Mindanao and Maluku and ongoing church projects.
At a general level, this study fills an important empirical gap in peace research. It sheds novel, systematically generated, empirical light on the local peace activities of religious actors – the Christian churches – in post-conflict constellations. Although adverse field conditions (see chapter 3) forced us to scale down the scope of field surveys and interviews in Mindanao, the resulting data nonetheless provided a sound basis for village-level and individual testing in the form of counterfactual comparisons, correlational analyses, and QCA estimations. In addition, the availability of province-wide conflict data in Maluku made it possible to compile a unique subdistrict dataset for multivariate regression analyses. Due to sustained efforts of combining different analytical and methodological perspectives, this study has generated more nuanced and robust research findings than a unidimensional (quantitative or qualitative) approach would have.
Revisiting the first of the two research questions formulated in chapter 1, that is, the ways and the extent to which church-based activities contributed to conflict transformation in Mindanao and Maluku, four major conclusions can be drawn.
First, perhaps the most resounding message that emerges from this study is that church-based projects do matter. Our survey reveals that Christian project activities in the field of conflict transformation and reconciliation have been, by and large, well received. Indeed, a vast majority of respondents in Cotabato and Ambon found it highly relevant that peace projects were organized by religious actors. Reasons for the strong preference for church-led peace projects arguably include the notion that religious peace actors are widely seen as guardians or benefactors of marginalized groups or households – irrespective of expressed religious beliefs. Moreover, church-based efforts in some communities are often praised for their accompanying focus on poverty alleviation, which includes an emphasis on hands-on activities that yield tangible improvements for local livelihoods. Ordinary people that have gone through ordeals of violence and destruction and have experienced long spells of political, economic, social, and cultural discrimination and deprivation tend to value material needs more than (or at least equal to) cultural and spiritual ones.
Closely related to this insight is, second, the fact that according to the survey results church-based projects tend to receive higher approval rates than state projects. The majority of respondents feel that church projects are preferable because they treat followers of Christian and Muslim faiths with equal respect. Religious actors are often seen as inclusive, fair, and unbiased mediators, while state actors at times display favoritism and more arbitrary treatment. Moreover, religious actors are commended for their proper and timely execution of projects and delivery of aid, while state actors are criticized for slow and inefficient execution. Interviewees also alluded to the fact that state projects are often fraught with corruption, while church-based projects are not. Our interview data and the insights generated through process tracing and discourse analysis in both conflict regions adds further support to these findings. Overall, the survey and interview data indicate that church activities have been well in line with the expectations of local residents in both conflict areas.
Third, and likewise, highly significant insights arise from the survey data and empirical assessments in chapters 6 to 9. These chapters examine the extent to which project participation affect peace-oriented outcomes. Counterfactual comparisons and correlational analyses indicate a significant link between higher participation and more tolerant/inclusive attitudes, especially once individual-level correlational analyses are considered. Regression analyses add further support to these positive associations. A set of multivariate OLS estimates (across more than 50 Maluku sub-districts) indicate that both the “presence of Catholic project activities” and the “presence of joint Catholic/Protestant activities” are positively and significantly associated with reported reductions in violence. In other words: church-based activities have fostered interreligious understanding and better knowledge of the religious other. Stereotypes and hostile attitudes towards other faiths have notably declined. The fact that there has been visible and positive attitudinal change – in both conflict regions and across all religious groups – provides additional support to the argument that the peace work of the churches has made a profound contribution to ongoing conflict transformation efforts.
Fourth, interreligious dialogues, in conjunction with peace projects, are potentially an important element for conflict transformation in both cases under study. However, interreligious dialogues are often scattered, intermittent, inconsistent, and insufficiently nested. They tend to flow in top-down and outward-in directions and, as such, take on shapes that are distinctly elite-driven and disconnected from the grassroots (Böhm 2006: 395; Neumann 2009: 70).1 For interreligious dialogues to become an effective peace-inducing mechanism, they would require more emphasis on genuine inclusion and higher levels of intra-religious cohesion between moderate and extreme elements in each religious community.
The second research question informing this book sought to provide insights on the extent to which these church-based efforts have been affected by specific economic, political, or social contexts. At least seven major findings stand out here.
First, there is substantial evidence that religion was not the main driver of local conflicts in Mindanao and Maluku, although combatants and those directly affected by the violence – especially in Maluku – believed that precisely this was the case. However, when religion became a means of politicizing, polarizing, and mobilizing supporters for non-religious objectives, thereby transforming an interest-based conflict into a value-based conflict (see also chapter 2), it became increasingly challenging for religious actors to initiate and conduct peace and reconciliation activities. Under such conditions, a discursive dynamic unfolds that deeply entrenches and reproduces collective memories, stereotypes, and prejudices of the “religious other” in the contending religious groups’ mindsets – culminating in the idea that the annihilation of all opponents would be a necessary step for resolving the conflict. Narratives of “religious cleansing” and “conversion” do not provide a fertile ground for successful peace projects. Yet the Maluku case has also shown that war fatigue and the rediscovery of cultural and ethnic commonalities can set in motion a countervailing peace discourse and transcend religious divisions.
The path dependencies created by discursive and cognitive processes are stronger in the southern Philippines than in Maluku, making it more complicated to initiate lasting peace accords in the former region. Unsurprisingly, and in contrast to Maluku, previous peace solutions in the southern Philippines have collapsed and current efforts surrounding the Bangsamoro Basic Law have also been on the verge of failing. In Maluku, the Malino II agreement still holds and has endured the (short-lived) resurgence of riots and provocations in 2004 and 2011.
Second, even more difficult is peace work for religious actors if material and cognitive conflict drivers inextricably intertwine. We found much evidence for such a combination of tangible “material” and “cognitive causes” in Mindanao and Maluku. In the beginning of both conflicts, “grievances” played an important role. In particular, this seems true for the Maluku case. As violent conflict became entrenched in the southern Philippines, it became blurred with the concurrent presence of clan feuds and shadow economies, suggesting that notions of “greed” and “opportunity” became increasingly important motivations for conflict parties to undermine peace solutions. Yet – as argued above – conflicts have turned particularly violent in both regions due to an intensifying discursive dynamic that legitimated force and violence as a seemingly most effective means to ultimately terminate the conflict.
Third, the study suggests that not only local discourses but also discourses at the national level – more in the Philippines than in Indonesia – have adversely influenced both conflicts and thus curtailed the scope of church actors’ peacebuilding efforts. In the Philippines, a postcolonial syndrome persists in which long-established stereotypes and biases against the Muslim minority continue to flourish. Yet Indonesian religious discourses also tend to fuel religious intolerance and, as such, thwart the efforts of church actors to promote reconciliation and the emergence of “positive peace.” In Maluku, however, religious peace actors have learned how to prevent spoilers and provocateurs (which mainly originate from outside the province and include security personnel and religious hard-liners of both sides) from reigniting violence.2 Ambon’s “peace provocateurs” movement is a case in point and highlights that social resilience can preempt or at least mitigate confrontational actions.
Fourth, negative events – such as the tragic Mamasapano incident in the Philippines in late January 2015 – seriously impede the peace work of religious actors. They tend to have an amplifying effect on existing, already deeply entrenched stereotypes and prejudices. They strengthen path dependencies, help to reproduce negative representations of the “religious other,” and are used as pretexts to derail peace initiatives by parties disinterested in an accommodating and just peace. This is less the case in Maluku, where more successful attempts to curtail hard-liners and provocateurs have given rise to a more stable status quo in which trivial incidents no longer incite protracted violence.
Fifth, our analysis suggests that indeed – as posited in the theory chapter (see chapter 2) – local customary law plays a major role in the settlement of violent conflict and in the process of peacebuilding. For church-based peace projects with the objective of facilitating reconciliation and conflict transformation, Mindanao’s rido culture provides a more difficult cultural context than the pela gandong customary law (adat) in Maluku – as shown by the high number of unresolved feuds (see chapter 4). Although in local peace projects, such as the ones in Pikit, traditional mediation practices have been revived and combined with hybrid approaches together with state-based formal law and strengthened restorative justice at an intra-community level (Neumann 2013: 245), inter-community mediation in Mindanao is confronted with serious trust deficits and is hardly working (Kreuzer & Weiberg 2007; Neumann 2013: 253). Church activists are well aware of this obstacle, as impressively formulated by Father Roberto Layson, the architect of the Pikit Peace Zone:
I am also a priest. Where did we go wrong? We preach Christianity; it means love. We preach Islam; it means peace. And yet there is violence among our faithful. Sometimes the violence is committed in the name of God. What is the role of the religious leaders? Are we credible? This is a very strong challenge to Islam and Christianity and probably it should also challenge the Lumad religions and spirituality.
(cited in Magno Torres III 2007: 7)
In Ambon, local traditions of peaceful conflict settlement not only target the intra-community level but explicitly also the inter-community level. Moreover, these traditional mechanisms of preserving peace between villages have been actively adopted by church actors, although – as shown in chapter 5 – this approach should not be romanticized and taken as a panacea. Ambon’s sizeable migrant population has been largely ignorant of these traditions, and acculturating outsiders into them is time-consuming and hardly rewarded by success. Moreover, it took religious peace workers themselves a long time to rediscover local culture as an asset for peacebuilding; in fact, only after decades of modernizing religion by purifying it from indigenous elements. The conclusion to be drawn from the effects of customary law and traditional culture on peacebuilding in Mindanao and Maluku is thus clear: it matters. Peace activists have to take it into account in their peacebuilding efforts; not least because of the long-held objective of “modernizing” local belief systems and purifying them from indigenous elements.
Sixth, a context variable supportive of church-based peace projects in Mindanao is the finding that residential segregation is not equivalent to social segregation. This is due to a comparatively high level of social capital in the form of local associations, which in Mindanao is somewhat more developed than in Maluku and thus is a helpful condition for peace projects of the churches.
Seventh, QCA estimations (chapter 9) provided important individual-level insights into salient contextual factors surrounding the peace projects in Mindanao and Maluku. Among many possible combinations of conditions, a select few correspond closely with reported attitude improvements. Apart from “project participation,” salient positive factors include “education” and to some extent “income” and “social capital,” thereby confirming findings generated by the other methods employed in this study. QCA estimates indicate that social capital is particularly conducive if it does not align with restrictive ethnic or fundamentalist religious orientations and, hence, serves to “bridge” existing intra-group divides. All in all, the combined assessment of these empirical vantage points provides a strong analytical base for affirming the first research question (which pertains to potential contributions of church-based activities) and for qualifying the second research question (i.e., weighing the influences of other concurring social, economic, and political factors).
The last section of this study offers some initial and therefore still very tentative reflections on what practical implications the findings of this research project might have. One immediate and firm conclusion we derive from this study is that Christian Churches should continue and even increase their engagement in peacebuilding projects. This is genuinely consistent with the moral foundations of Christianity – and other religions alike – which persistently highlight central values that promote peace, love, respect for the other, reconciliation, and forgiveness. A recent study and project survey of Catholic peacebuilding activities suggests that the Catholic Church has not neglected this field of activity in conflict zones around the world, but it nonetheless casts doubt on claims that it pursues a comprehensive approach (Baumann 2013). Repeatedly in our fieldwork, we encountered religious peace activists who deplored the fact that existing projects are scattered, that there is limited continuity and sustainability, that there is insufficient coordination between church actors, and that, as a consequence, there is a lack of coherence and “nesting” between projects, programs, and Christian denominations. In short, what is urgently needed is a more systematic approach beyond the confines of individual congregations and church organizations.
Knowledge on (post-)conflict transformation and peacebuilding is difficult to tap. Experiences generated from church-based activities are mostly buried in confidential technical project progress reports (which are regularly requested by church donors), and monopolized by a few project organizers who have long and systematically worked in this field and maintain close interactions with local practitioners and experts on the ground (including personalities such as Father Sebastiano D’Ambra and Father Bert Layson in Mindanao, or Rev Jacky Manuputty in Ambon). Accordingly, we would like to propose that Bishops Conferences (or one of their aid delivering executive arms, for example, MISEREOR in Germany) establish a communication and information unit which – in close cooperation with project leaders and practitioners on the ground – can collect, manage, and publish relevant information, data, and best practices in the field of conflict transformation and reconciliation. On the basis of this knowledge production and knowledge management – be it through their own research or joint efforts in cooperation with established peace research institutes – the unit should contribute to a systematic upgrading of church actors’ capacities in this highly significant field of global church affairs.
It would be also desirable to develop an effective dissemination strategy of “good practices” that can be accessed by church actors in other countries. Ideally, such a dissemination strategy should make full use of new media and information technologies (e.g., podcasts, videos, virtual libraries, and online forums). The mass media should also be considered as potential partners for such dissemination efforts, not least because in the Philippines and Indonesia there is a modicum of affinity on the part of quality mass media for church-based peace initiatives during and after armed conflicts. By doing so, church-based peace advocates would also increase their influence on discursive scope conditions, which – as we have seen – are or have been problematic in the conflict constellations under study.
In order to overcome the scattered nature of church-based peace projects, to create a more comprehensive peace agenda, and to nest projects better in existing programs, we also propose more coordination and concertation between involved churches and church organizations. For German church actors or church-based donor organizations with an international agenda, this would entail more concerted efforts to establish and foster links to counterparts from other countries that are active in Philippine and Indonesian peace projects. Closer ecumenical links should also be contemplated and can be achieved by interacting and cooperating with Protestant Churches. Such project alliances would generate new opportunities for joint learning, complementarity, and cost sharing, and therefore pave the ground for more sustainable and geographically comprehensive initiatives by the churches. They would help to create the critical mass needed to make such projects more sustainable.
As field interviews suggest, it is critical to incorporate livelihood and developmental components in the design of church-based peace projects. This seems particularly important in conflict regions where economic deprivation and marginalization is a defining feature, or where large numbers of people have been displaced or affected by looting and vandalism. Under such adverse conditions, rehabilitation components are inevitable and often highly effective. The reconciliatory effects of such measures can even be enhanced if rehabilitation, reconstruction, and development aid benefits not only members of the own religious group, but also works to the benefit of other, even adversarial, religious communities.
The experiences of peace activists and project initiators in both regions suggest that interreligious aid strategies create trust and reinforce reconciliatory measures. Moreover, people are more prepared to participate in peace projects with cognitive and spiritual dimensions if projects also pave the way for improvements in everyday living conditions. Increased income and wealth, in and of itself, is hardly a sufficient ingredient for peacefulness, but the results from our QCA estimates persuasively showed that under certain conditions income can serve as a supportive factor for ongoing peace activities. This is more likely, for instance, if well-to-do residents have low ethnic biases or fundamentalist religious biases.
Yet, while material dimensions are vital, one should not ignore that sociopsychological traumas caused by atrocities among war victims constitute a potentially powerful impediment to peacebuilding that deserves due attention. Against this backdrop, it is advisable to conduct culture of peace seminars that alleviate deeply entrenched prejudices from atrocious war experiences and downgrade the desire for revenge. Ideally, these seminars would provide a valuable space for participants to give testimony and exchange personal experiences. By providing such spaces and enabling such exercises, the church would create a foundation for what Father Bert Layson calls the attainment of “peace constituency.”3
Another key challenge is that local interfaith and peace activities must become dissociated from their elitist flavor (Dietrich 2005: 163). While it is important to create a core group that exerts leadership, it is also pivotal to garner the support of important intermediaries and grassroots actors for the implementation of peace and reconciliation activities. Fluctuating or contested elite structures may not provide a strong safeguard against situations where local communities are mobilized, emotionalized, and encouraged to engage in violence. While “hotlines” in the form of horizontal communication channels among leaders are crucial to de-escalate popular furor, it is likewise important that leaders also have vertical channels of communication to local community members. This is what some of our interview respondents termed the significance of “intra-religious dialogue,” which must be part and parcel of any initiative on interfaith dialogue.
The QCA estimates also highlighted education as a key requisite for successful peace activities. This tallies well with the activities and ideas of many church actors we interviewed in both conflict regions. Better education is, first and foremost, a way to alleviate poverty and enhance local prosperity. However, the significance of education reaches far beyond this material/economic rationale. Education is also a crucial ingredient for the development of positive attitudes towards peace and religious tolerance. Some projects thus do not only propagate joint education of Christians and Muslims; even more importantly, they strongly plead for peace education at a very early age. Starting peace education at the pre-school level would have distinct advantages: it inculcates ideas of peace into the minds of local people at very early stages of socialization; it lays the ground for a deep internalization of positive attitudes towards interfaith action; and it helps to habitualize peaceful behavioral patterns. Part of this peace education is implanting respect for other religions, which, for instance, can be facilitated by the joint celebration of important religious holidays such as Christmas or Idul Fitri (the end of Ramadan).
In fact, many of the church-based peace projects we encountered in Mindanao and Maluku address local youth. Their motivation is threefold: the first objective is to discourage people, young men especially, from becoming combatants; the second rests on the belief that norms and habits acquired during the process of primary socialization are more entrenched in a personality (and that it is thus more effective to target young persons for the promotion of the ideas of peaceful coexistence and eventually reconciliation); and the third is to prevent the next generation from forgetting former war atrocities, lest they behave carelessly and re-ignite religious violence. It is thus advisable that religious actors lobby for the introduction of peace curricula at public schools and the introduction of peace studies as an academic discipline at local universities.
Nevertheless, a word of caution is needed with respect to education. It is certainly not a panacea for the resolution of protracted armed conflict between hostile religious groups. Education can also be double-edged. If it does not deliver what it promises (that is, the eradication of discrimination and socioeconomic betterment), it can also have quite unintended consequences and become a mobilizing factor for rebellion. The educational programs of the Philippine government after 1957 in Muslim Mindanao are a typical case in point. As this educational offensive was discriminatory and did not qualify Muslim graduates to attain adequate jobs, it accelerated frustration and eventually created a vocal Muslim counter-elite that was much more radical than the established traditional Muslim nobility. These educated youngsters were the heralds of a new generation of militant leaders and separatist organizations, including the MNLF. Some of the MILF leaders also attended Christian universities like Notre Dame University in Cotabato City which spearheaded peace education (Larousse 2001: 504; Coronel Ferrer 2013: 235).4
Another recommendation pertains to the use of new media. Peace projects, much more than at present, should work with innovative and mobile media platforms. The experience in Cotabato and Ambon, for instance, has shown that new electronic media can be successfully used for peace monitoring and fact finding. Yet, given that new communication technologies can also be hijacked by external provocateurs to foment strife, it is important to design in advance technical and organizational countermeasures that curtail the cyber war as documented by Birgit Bräuchler in Maluku (Bräuchler 2004, 2005).
Finally, peace projects must also respond to the fact that religion is often only a superficial cause of armed conflict and that seemingly religious motives are often rooted in political rivalries, clan feuds, and shadow economies. Muslim Mindanao provides a sobering example. Peace education must therefore address the embedded material and cultural contexts of violent conflicts which, once again, highlights the importance of socioeconomic and political development as a concomitant of peace initiatives. The more it is possible to create stable and equitable living standards for a majority of the population, the less likely it is that local communities will engage in the multifarious facets of shadow economies. As such, the potential for hostility at the grassroots level declines, as does the willingness of ordinary people to cooperate with or participate in clandestine networks. However, as indicated above, that is by no means a sufficient condition for successful local church-based peacebuilding activities. So far, it seems, at least in Mindanao, that church-based projects have not yet been able to transform the highly hierarchical nature of the region’s clan structure, which at the end of the day often supersedes the norms and knowledge acquired through peacebuilding activities.
These are only some thoughts that come to mind when reflecting on the results of the project. Designers of future peace activities should be conscientious of local contexts and committed to enhanced information and communication standards that allow church actors to connect seamlessly across different countries and operational levels to a much greater extent than is the case today. These qualifications notwithstanding, it should be also stressed that the studied church-based activities in Mindanao and Maluku have demonstrated persuasively that (post-)conflict peace work matters and that it is genuinely rewarding to deepen existing knowledge bases and continue to professionalize project activities.
1 See also Rev Jacky Manuputty and Catholic Diocese of Amboina Bishop, Petrus Canisius Mandagi, in The Jakarta Post, 30 August 2006 and 26 March 2007. For Mindanao Atty Benny Bacani, 7 September 2015.
2 See, for instance, a press report about the arrest of high school students in Ambon with alleged ties to the Islamic State. Jakarta Globe, 11 August 2014.
3 Authors’ interview, 13 September 2015.
4 A case in point is MILF chairman Murad Ebrahim, a Notre Dame graduate. Former vice chairman of political affairs Ghazali Jafaar also received his education at Notre Dame. See Far Eastern Economic Review, 23 February 1995, p. 27.
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