MXLLS A man reacts to tear gas fired by police fire to disperse rival marches by hundreds of protesters, after mobs looted stores this week believed to belong to immigrants in Pretoria, South Africa, February 24, 2017.© 2017 Reuters ​A group calling itself “The Mamelodi Concerned Residents” marched in Pretoria today to protest against African immigrants in South Africa. The march was opposed by foreign nationals, and triggered a wave of looting of shops owned by foreign nationals and clashes between the two groups. If unchecked, these xenophobic attacks could soon engulf Pretoria and spread to other parts of South Africa, as they have in the past. The organizers of today’s anti-immigrants march are not the only ones blaming foreign nationals for crime and stealing jobs. In December, Johannesburg Mayor Herman Mashaba made some reckless public statements blaming illegal immigrants for crime and calling on them to leave the city. South African president Jacob Zuma condemned today’s violence and called on citizens and non-nationals to exercise restraint, and unite against crime. But President Zuma’s condemnation of violence alone will do little to address the root causes of recurring xenophobia in South Africa. No one has been convicted over past outbreaks of xenophobic violence, including the Durban violence of April 2015 that displaced thousands of foreign nationals, and the 2008 attacks, which resulted in the deaths of more than 60 people across the country. To combat xenophobia, police and the government need to publicly acknowledge that ongoing attacks on foreign nationals and their property are xenophobic and then take decisive action. This should include ensuring proper police investigations of xenophobic crimes and holding those responsible to account. Inflammatory public statements, such as those made by the Johannesburg mayor last December should also be condemned. Those who cross the line and directly incite violence against migrants should be prosecuted. For a country that bills itself as an African human rights champion, the litmus test will be how the South African government stems this dangerous tide of xenophobia. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ (c) 2017 Human Rights Watch

The United Nations Independent Expert on the situation of human rights in Sudan, Aristide Nononsi, finished a 12-day trip to the Darfur region of Sudan, speaking out about his findings this week. During his trip, Mr. Nononsi visited Adi Kong, a village in the west of the Darfur region and spoke with the civilians living there. Voicing the concerns of the people of Adi Kong, Mr. Nononsi said they remain “anxious about the security situation in the area” and lack access to basic services like water, education, and health care. In his statement, Mr. Nononsi also made clear that it is necessary that the government, with the aid of its international partners, uphold their responsibility to protect civilians in the community. During the same trip, Mr. Nononsi also traveled to the Sorotony Camp in the northern Darfur region, one of the many camps housing the hundreds of thousands of people displaced by the violence, where he found the security situation of those living in the camps to be “precarious”. Residents of the camp are continuously threatened by armed and criminal elements both inside and outside the camp. The lack of an adequate criminal justice mechanism and law enforcement institutions in the camp has seriously jeopardized the rule of law and put the residents at extreme and frequent risk of right violations and violence. In particular, Mr. Nononsi emphasized the situation faced by women in the Sorotony Camp, and the prevalence of sexual and gender-based violence. Between 27 January and 18 February nine rapes were reported in the camp and many other cases of sexual violence have gone unreported due to fear and the social stigmatization of rape. The correlation between impunity and the prevalence of sexual violence in the camp led Mr. Nononsi to make a statement urging “the Government, which bears the primary responsibility to protect civilians within its territory, to promptly conduct investigations to bring the perpetrators to justice.” Mr. Nononsi addressed other human rights issues as well at the conclusion of his 12-day visit including encouraging the government release several civil society activists currently under arbitrary arrest and held without trial, one of whom may be held in retaliation for his contribution to the Amnesty International report alleging the use of chemical weapons by the government in Darfur last year, according to local media sources. The situation in Darfur has become practically synonymous with humanitarian tragedy in the ongoing conflict that will be entering into its fourteenth year in 2017. Allegations of atrocity crimes and other human rights abuses committed against the civilian population of Darfur by the government and armed forces of Sudan have often been levied against the regime during its campaign against rebel forces in the western territory. Rampant impunity has only worsened the situation as the state authorities have refused to exercise any of the five outstanding arrest warrants issued by the International Criminal Court for Sudanese nationals, including two separate warrants for President Omar al-Bashir for atrocity crimes in Darfur. The weakness of the rule of law in the country has also extended into the daily lives of the civilian population, particularly, as noted by Mr. Nononsi, in the camps for displaced persons in Darfur, where sexual violence, banditry and murder without justice have become commonplace. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ (c) 2017 RtoP Weekly

I would like to first thank the Government of Bangladesh for allowing me to undertake a visit to the country, particularly to Cox’s Bazar. I had initially hoped to undertake this mission immediately after my last visit to Myanmar in January but for various reasons, it had to be delayed until now. As such, findings from this visit have not been included in the written report being presented to the Human Rights Council as I had to complete that report prior to this visit. I will raise key points from this visit during my oral presentation to the Human Rights Council on 13 March. As I highlighted in my statement at the end of my last visit to Myanmar, reprisals were a major concern for me. While I did have the opportunity to meet and talk to Rohingya villagers in my visit to the north of Rakhine State in January, I was mindful of the possible retaliation against those speaking with me in Myanmar. Therefore, it was important for me to seek the opportunity to meet the Rohingya population who fled to Bangladesh from the post 9 October violence. I would like to thank specifically the Bangladesh Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and the International Organization for Migration as well as the Office of the United Nations Resident Coordinator in Bangladesh for their assistance and support in facilitating my visit. My deep appreciation also goes to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees as well as other international and local actors on the ground for their support and cooperation. I must acknowledge and pay tribute to the generosity and compassion of the host communities in Cox’s Bazar in providing shelter and sharing their personal – in many cases limited – resources to help the Rohingya population who fled from Myanmar in fear. Most of all, I am grateful and humbled by the resilience and strength shown by the members of the Rohingya population whom I met in Cox’s Bazar. I met several groups of Rohingya women and men, and their children including one with a disability, from several of the villages most affected by the security operations which ensued after the attacks against the Myanmar Border Guard Police facilities on 9 October 2016. Hearing personal accounts of what they endured before making the difficult decision to cross into Bangladesh helped to complete the picture. And I am saddened to report that what I heard during my visit to Bangladesh was worse than I had anticipated. The magnitude of violence that these families witnessed and experienced was far more extensive than I had originally speculated. Previously I had expressed my incredulity over the official reasons given for the burning down of houses. I refused to accept Government arguments that the Rohingya people were willing to burn down their own houses to be without a home and potentially displaced for five years or more, like those in Sittwe, for the sake of propaganda or in the hope that international actors would help build them better houses when the Government has hindered these actors from fully discharging their respective mandates, including in the delivery of food and provision of medical assistance. This visit, I am unable to believe that women with very young children or who were heavily pregnant would have made the journey across from Myanmar into Bangladesh without very compelling reasons. To go without the guarantees and familiarity of their own homes as well as support of familial and social networks under such circumstances can only mean an enormous upheaval in their lives. There was not a single account I heard which was not harrowing. I was especially affected by a mother who repeatedly expressed regret for mistakenly thinking that her son had been brought out from their burning house. She heard him screaming for her and managed to save his life but burn scars have been seared onto him – scars which I saw with my own eyes. One woman lost sight in both eyes due to the fire caused by the security forces personnel and had to rely on the help of others to be able to flee to Bangladesh in search of refuge. Destitute and having recently lost the use of her eyes, she fears what the future may hold for her. A boy with a hearing impairment was desperately making gestures to tell me how both his parents died in front of him, first beaten, stamped on, and then shot to death. One man who had hidden himself when news spread that the security forces were arbitrarily arresting male villagers was left guilt-ridden for his mistaken belief that the women left behind would be spared from harm. His wife, who was seven-months’ pregnant, had been at his sister-in-law’s home as the latter was giving birth. When the security forces were unable to find male members of the village, they apparently raided all the houses looking for them. Seven members from that family were fatally shot including his wife, sister-in-law and a four-year old girl. Fortunately, the newborn survived. I heard allegation after allegation of horrific events like these – slitting of throats, indiscriminate shootings, setting alight houses with people tied up inside and throwing very young children into the fire, as well as gang rapes and other sexual violence. When men, young and old, broke down and cried in front of me, I could feel that the terrible things that had happened to them, had broken their spirit, and shattered their hope in the world. Yet in spite of what they experienced, over and again I heard that what they want is to be accepted as Rohingya, to be able to go back to their home country, to be treated equally, to be treated as human beings. There are some who said they want justice, and when I probed what they meant by justice, most said they want their homes returned to them and to be able to live in peace. One said, “I want justice for those who were murdered and raped; I want those who murdered and raped brought to justice.” In my report to the Human Rights Council which I will present in March, and which should be available online in the next two weeks, I highlight – in addition to the alleged human rights violations occurring within the context of the security operations that followed the 9 October attacks – how the Government of Myanmar appears to have taken, and continues to take, actions which discriminate against the Rohingya and make their lives even more difficult. They instructed the Rohingya people to dismantle their own homes arguing that the structures had been built without permission; yet did not offer any alternative housing or forms of redress nor the opportunity to challenge such orders. They made the Rohingya villagers remove the fencing around their homes arguing security reasons, causing women particularly to feel more vulnerable as bathing facilities are normally hidden behind these fences. It appears that the regular conduct of the household list survey was moved up from the period of the year it is normally done, possibly to hold it at a time they knew many Rohingya people, who had fled the country in fear, would not be at home during the survey. Reportedly, in several cases when a Rohingya resident has been found not to be at home, s/he has been struck off the list which also means losing the only remaining legal link to Myanmar for many of the Rohingya people in northern Rakhine. Currently, a citizenship verification exercise under the discriminatory 1982 Citizenship Law is underway; and despite the understanding that the process should be a voluntary one, I have reports of the Rohingya people being forced to apply for the National Verification Cards; as otherwise, they are not allowed to receive food assistance, to move from one point to another within a restricted and demarcated area, to fish for their livelihood, or to carry out work as a national staff member of an international organization. In the meantime, a strict curfew (albeit of a recently shortened duration) is still applied in the areas that the majority of the Rohingya live; their freedom of movement is restricted; they have limited access to their rights to education, healthcare, and livelihoods. They continue to be kept segregated from the Rakhine community in many areas while anti-Muslim sentiments and rhetoric are left mostly unchecked by the authorities and in some instances emboldened. After decades of systematic and institutionalized discrimination, and long-standing persecution, no one should be surprised that some could turn to radical measures. More so after the general Rohingya population is collectively punished through the security forces’ operations for the actions potentially committed by a small fraction of the population. It is a tragic irony that after implementing policies, laws and rules that discriminate and persecute this population, giving the pretext for some extreme elements to attack the security forces, more cruel actions are taken against this population generally in the name of national security and protection of state sovereignty. In other words, the 9 October attacks appear to have given the security forces the perfect cover to amplify and accelerate actions they had previously carried out through policies, rules and laws – with the apparent objective of expelling the Rohingya population from Myanmar altogether. After almost five months, the Government finally announced the withdrawal of the military presence in the north of Rakhine State. Only after months of having been cautioned and warned by the international community of the increasing number of serious allegations of human rights violations occurring in these areas consequent to the security operations. And only after months of the Government defending their position with few reservations, denying and dismissing these allegations as fabrications. Yet a video was circulated in late December and early January of Myanmar Police Force personnel beating up those rounded up for questioning. Even then, the authorities claimed this was an isolated event which I still doubt very much. Now it seems an investigation has been opened into several cases of custodial deaths. I had in fact raised such cases during my visit to Myanmar and the response which was given – that the deaths were related to their pre-existing medical conditions – appears now to be called into question. And despite the Myanmar Government’s announcement that the security operations have ceased in northern Rakhine, I am informed that there is still heavy presence of military there. I have also received allegations of reprisals related to the interaction of the Rohingya villagers with either the foreign delegations, the UN/diplomatic mission and journalists, or the Government appointed commissions. One male villager told me how he tried to approach the UN/diplomatic mission and was stopped and detained by the military, and only released after a member of that delegation asked that he and others detained alongside him be released. He nonetheless fled Myanmar fearing he would be blacklisted. In another instance, a female villager reportedly fled Myanmar after being pursued by the authorities after informing visiting journalists that she had been raped. In yet another case, someone who responded to questions posed by the military investigating team was instead apparently accused of being a suspected attacker. In fear of being arrested, this person also fled. Generally, I also heard how the military would warn villagers against coming out or approaching visiting dignitaries. I was made aware during my visit to Bangladesh of how there had been previous phases of large numbers of the Rohingya population fleeing Myanmar, and that there are about 33,000 registered Rohingya refugees from the ‘91-92’ phase who are located in two registered camps, in Nayapara and Kutupalong. In addition to these registered refugees, there are reportedly about 300-500,000 undocumented Rohingya people of which tens of thousands are located in two makeshift settlements in Leda and Kutupalong. I have also visited Balukhali where temporary shelters have started to emerge and where many so-called new arrivals reportedly have tended to gravitate towards. As had been previously reported, about 70,000 more Rohingya appear to have crossed into Bangladesh since the 9 October attacks. I understand that the Government of Bangladesh has concerns about creating conditions that may become a “pull factor” and that its position has always been for the Myanmar Government to take responsibility for the Rohingya population. I agree that the root causes of the situation of the Rohingya population lie with the Government of Myanmar. And, for these new groups of undocumented Rohingya to arrive in such a large number over a brief period of time in recent months and in dire circumstances – many with just the clothes on their backs, bearing violence-related injuries – this clearly indicates a “push factor” at hand. I appreciate that this new caseload has caused additional stress and burden on the existing system in Bangladesh already providing humanitarian assistance to the earlier registered and undocumented Rohingya population in Bangladesh. The Bangladesh Government’s extension of humanitarian assistance to the recent arrivals should also be commended. However, I am compelled to advocate on behalf of the Rohingya that I met and whose homes and living quarters I visited in Balukhali, Leda, Nayapara and Kutupalong for the Government of Bangladesh to take greater efforts to improve their living conditions and for the international community to support such efforts. More can, should and must be done to end the continued suffering of the Rohingya population. In particular, I urge for the Government of Myanmar to immediately cease the discrimination that the community continues to face in the country, to act to prevent any further serious rights violations and to conduct prompt, thorough, independent and impartial investigations into those already alleged to have occurred. We all owe it to those I have met and their fellow community members to do everything in our power to ensure this is done and to give the Rohingya people reason to hope again. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ (c) 2017 United Nations

On 22 February 2017, the Co-Investigating Judges at the ECCC decided to dismiss the case against Ms. Im Chaem finding that she did not meet the ECCC jurisdictional requirements of being a senior leader or one of those most responsible for alleged crimes during the Democratic Kampuchea regime during the ECCC’s temporal jurisdictional period of 17 April 1975 to 6 January 1979. Almost immediately after the decision was made public, critics began beating the drums. Expected. Decisions of this sort can be disappointing, especially to civil parties / victims. Lost in the scrum of blame-fixing are the facts. The knee-jerk reaction to every ruling in favor of a suspect or accused at the ECCC, however few and far between, is to claim political interference. Here that reaction gives voice in offensive, unsupported assertions that Prime Minister Hun Sen and the governing party, the Cambodian People’s Party, exerted pressure on the Co-Investigating Judges. The never considered flip side is that a decision not to proceed against Ms. Im Chaem is an act of judicial courage and intellectual integrity. Not that judges do not make mistakes or get things wrong, but considering the stakes in this case, the overwhelming and immutable public preconception that all suspects being investigated are guilty, guilty, guilty, and the invisible, but no less tangible, pressure to just indict and get on with the trial, conviction, and life sentence, this decision was courageous by any measure. And, not incidentally, it was correct. One critic was one of my former interns on the Meas Muth defense. She posted on Facebook words to the effect that “Hun Sen has won the battle for the chambers. Case 3 and 4/2 to follow” and stated incorrectly that the teams in Cases 003 and 004 had made numerous filings on personal jurisdiction that had been rejected. This brought a swift reaction, resulting in the withdrawal of her message. It is regrettable that a former intern would make such ignorant, irresponsible, and impugning remarks. As an intern, she was cautioned not to discuss at any time matters that she may have come across while interning for the Meas Muth defense team. Interns parachute in and out of these highly complex cases, often arriving with preconceived notions about the facts of the case. They have usually read a book or two, seen a film, read a few news clips; foundation they believe for their certain knowledge of what actually happened during the Khmer Rouge period and how the ECCC is operating. Usually, they come to realize how ill-informed they are. Most have little or no experience in international criminal law and procedure, while those from common law systems tend to have little or no understanding of the French-based civil law system. And yet we tolerate their immature thought processes and embrace these young and eager legal eaglets, mentor them, try to immerse them in best practices, and above all, encourage them to be professionally and ethically vigilant. So, it is with deep regret and embarrassment that I came to learn that such ill-conceived remarks issued from one of my carefully nurtured interns.. Much has been written about political interference; it is an all too common default claim from human rights advocates and NGO types. Yes, Prime Minister Hun Sen has made comments in the past, but, to borrow a refrain the legendary American jazz musician Miles Davis: so what? To say such comments bear the fruit of dismissal is no different from claiming that the voices of those seeking indictment automatically obtain that result. Those of us who have been in the trenches on Case 003 and Case 004 can attest to the intensity and tenacity with which the international Co-Investigating Judges have investigated these cases – especially International Co-Investigating Judge Michael Bohlander. I do not always agree with his decisions (or at least parts of them), and when I do not, I unhesitantly raise my objections before the appropriate venue – the Pre-Trial Chamber. What I can say, is that I have not seen the slightest indication that Judge Bohlander has ever, in any way, shirked his judicial responsibility or caved in to political pressure (and the internationals are no shrinking violets when it comes to applying pressure),1 or opted for a course of least resistance. Declaring that “Hun Sen has won” is tantamount to suggesting that the Co-Investigating Judges violated their oath to independently and impartially seek the material truth. A damnable insinuation. It may not have been my former intern’s intention to impugn the integrity of Judges You Bunleng and Bohlander, but that is exactly what she did. Worse yet, she did so without having a clue about the facts, the investigative efforts made by the Co-Investigating Judges, the superb legal work of the Im Chaem defense team, or the International Co-Prosecutor’s persistence in not giving an inch on even the slightest legal or factual issue. We all make mistakes. We are all susceptible to reaching conclusions without foundation. But more is expected of us and our interns when commenting about judicial decisions. We need to be exceptionally careful not to gratuitously cast aspersions out of ignorance or to impugn the character of judges when we disagree with the outcome of a decision. Someday most of those interns will be practicing lawyers, subject to rules of professional conduct. Once fledged, my interns become independent actors, beyond the reach of my influence. Nonetheless, I am saddened that this time the lessons of confidentiality, discretion, fidelity to the client, critical thinking and respect for the judiciary did not have greater vitality. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ (c) 2017 International Criminal Law

The president of the Philippines, Rodrigo Duterte, made perhaps his most controversial remark on record Friday -- openly musing about killing 3 million drug users, and likening himself to Adolf Hitler. "If Germany had Hitler, the Philippines would have...," Duterte said in a press conference, then pausing and pointing to himself. "Hitler massacred 3 million Jews ... there's 3 million drug addicts. There are. I'd be happy to slaughter them," Duterte said, speaking in Davao City, where he was previously mayor and gained a reputation for being tough-on-crime, but also allegedly employing extrajudicial death squads. Explosive testimony rocked the country earlier this month, when a self-confessed former death squad member said he witnessed Duterte personally execute a government official with a machine gun in the early 1990's. Duterte argued Friday that killing that number of alleged drug users would "save the next generation from perdition." Germany swiftly condemned Duterte's remarks. "It is impossible to make any comparison to the unique atrocities of the… Holocaust," said, Martin Schaefer, a German foreign ministry spokesman. [READ: Rodrigo Duterte Invites ‘Devil’ U.N. to Investigate Death Squad Allegations in Philippines] "Does he want to be sent to the international criminal court? Because he's working his way there," said Phil Robertson of Human Rights Watch. Since becoming president in late June, Duterte has led a large-scale national drug war, and sparred with traditional allies of his country such as the United States, calling President Obama a "son of a whore." More than 3,000 are estimated to have died in the drug crackdown as of Friday, the majority at the hands of death squads.

Malaysian police have said the substance used in the killing of Kim Jong-nam was a “VX nerve agent”, a hugely potent liquid only used in chemical warfare. The finding follows a preliminary analysis of swabs taken of the face and eyes of the victim, who is the half-brother of the North Korean leader, Kim Jong-un. North Korea demands 'sinister' Malaysia stop investigating Kim Jong-nam death Read more The highly toxic substance – also known as ethyl N-2-Diisopropylaminoethyl Methylphosphonothiolate – is classified by the United Nations as a weapon of mass destruction. Kim Jong-nam, who lived most of his life outside his home country, died on 13 February from a seizure on his way to hospital after complaining that a woman had sprayed chemicals on his face at Kuala Lumpur airport. Leaked CCTV footage show a woman grabbing his face. The US government’s Centers for Disease Control and Prevention describes VX as the most potent of all nerve agents and its only known use is in chemical warfare. It is a clear, colourless liquid with the consistency of engine oil. A fraction of a drop, absorbed through the skin, is enough to fatally disrupt the nervous system, according to the Council on Foreign Relations. It was developed in the 1950s in the UK during research into pesticides but was later found to be too toxic to be used safely. Saddam Hussein was accused of using VX during the Iran-Iraq War and there are concerns that stockpiles also exist in Syria. Malaysian police said its Centre for Chemical Weapons was still analysing other items related to Kim Jong-nam’s death. Kim Jong-nam’s death: what we know so far Four people of different nationalities have been arrested and seven North Koreans are wanted in connection with the attack. Malaysian police have not directly pinpointed North Korea as being behind the death. Advertisement On Thursday, North Korea accused Malaysia of having a “sinister purpose” and collaborating with South Korea over the killing. In the first report from state-run KCNA news agency since the attack, the government accused Malaysia of breaking international law by conducting autopsies on a diplomatic passport holder and withholding the body. “This proves that the Malaysian side is going to politicise the transfer of the body in utter disregard of international law and morality and thus attain a sinister purpose,” it said. According to people who knew him, Kim Jong-nam spent his last few years highly paranoid, hiding from the regime run by his dictator half-brother while struggling with a sense of powerlessness over the fate of his homeland. The killing has led to a diplomatic face-off between Malaysia and North Korea and refocused attention on Pyongyang, one of the world’s most isolated regimes with nuclear capabilities.

An average of at least 48 Canadian children are being held in immigration detention centres every year, harming their mental and physical health, according to a report from the University of Toronto's International Human Rights Program released Thursday. The report, titled "Invisible Citizens: Canadian Children in Immigration Detention," called the detentions "serious human rights violations of some of the most vulnerable members of our society." Although they are Canadian citizens, children are being taken into custody because one or more of their parents (either a foreign national or a permanent resident) is detained, making them "invisible in the law," the report reads. Under Canada's immigration law, Canadian citizens can't be formally confined so the children are instead considered "guests," and aren't able to access legal procedures or detention review hearings. Parents must choose detention for their children, or hand them over to child services. Mother diagnosed with PTSD, depression during detention One mother interviewed for the report, Abigail, was arrested while on her way to church with her baby, Daevon, in 2014. Abigail had fled Jamaica after she reportedly endured physical and sexual abuse from a former partner. The Refugee Board refused her claim for asylum. She didn't return to Jamaica, because Daevon was born with severe health problems that required medical care not available in the country. Without treatment, her son, a Canadian citizen, could become permanently disabled. While in detention, Daevon experienced frequent nosebleeds and his health was impacted from the poor quality of the food he received. The Canada Border Services Agency initially refused to let Abigail accompany her son to doctor's appointments, and pressured her to hand over the child to her former partner. Abigail was diagnosed with depression and PTSD. The psychological assessment during her detention noted Abigail felt "like her life is not worth living and concern for her son's well-being is the only reason that she pushes herself to keep going." She was released after six months and granted permanent resident status, but still feels like she and her son were "robbed." The figure of 48 children may be significantly lower than the actual number of children apprehended, as the study obtained data from only the Toronto Immigration Holding Centre, which is only one of Canada's detention facilities. Between 2011 and 2015, at least 227 Canadian children were held in the facility — however, nearly 20 per cent of the daily logs from that time period were missing, and no figures were provided from other Canadian detention agencies. During that period of time, one boy spent over two years in detention. The average child was detained for just over one month. Since October 2016, over 50 Canadian medical, legal and human rights organizations signed a statement calling for the end of immigration detention of children. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ (c) 2017 The Huffington Post

Regional armies in the Lake Chad basin deploy vigilantes to sharpen campaigns against Boko Haram insurgents. But using these militias creates risks as combatants turn to communal violence and organised crime. Over the long term they must be disbanded or regulated. Executive Summary Vigilante groups in Nigeria, Cameroon, Niger and Chad play a major role in the fight against Boko Haram, but their presence raises concerns. They make military operations less blunt and more effective and have reconnected these states somewhat with many of their local communities, but they have also committed abuses and become involved in the war economy. In Nigeria in particular, vigilantism did much to turn an anti-state insurgency into a bloodier civil war, pitting Boko Haram against communities and leading to drastic increases in violence. As the conflict continues to evolve, so will vigilantes. They are enmeshed with high politics, especially in Nigeria, and in local intercommunal relations, business operations and chiefdoms. Their belief that they should be rewarded will need to be addressed, and it is also important for the Lake Chad basin states to address the common gap in community policing, particularly in rural areas. To ensure vigilantes are not a future source of insecurity, these states will each need to devise their own mix of slowly disbanding and formalising and regulating them. Vigilantism, the recourse to non-state actors to enforce law and order (of a sort), has a history in the Lake Chad region. Colonial powers there relied, to a substantial degree, on local traditional chiefs and their retinues. The multi-faceted crisis in governance and decline in services among the Lake Chad states since the 1980s gave rise to new vigilante groups. The law and order challenges vigilantes tried to address were a factor in the formation and growth of Boko Haram, itself an attempt to provide regulation and guidance. The vigilante fight against Boko Haram started in 2013, in Maiduguri, the Borno state capital and the insurgency’s epicentre, under the twin pressure of mounting jihadist violence and security force retaliation. The Joint Task Force (JTF), led by the Nigerian army, quickly realised the vigilantes’ potential as a source of local knowledge, intelligence and manpower and set out to help organise it, with the assistance of local and traditional authorities. Operating under the unofficial but revealing name of Civilian Joint Task Force (CJTF), vigilantes were essential in flushing Boko Haram out of the city, then began replicating throughout the state. The official use of vigilantes to fight the movement spread further in Nigeria, then to Cameroon in 2014 and Chad in 2015, where the groups are known as comités de vigilance. Niger has been more cautious, partly because of past struggles with armed groups and because it has not needed them as much. Vigilantes have played many roles, from mostly discrete surveillance networks in Niger to military combat auxiliaries or semi-autonomous fighting forces in Nigeria. For the region’s overstretched and under pressure militaries, they have somewhat filled the security gap and provided local knowledge. They have made the military response more targeted and more efficient, but their mobilisation also provoked retribution by Boko Haram against their communities and contributed to the massive levels of civilian casualties in 2014 and 2015. Paradoxically, this, too, has favoured regional governments’ strategy of pushing civilians away from the jihadists. As the insurgency splinters and falls back on more discrete guerrilla operations and terror attacks, however, the time has come to measure the risks posed by such a massive mobilisation of vigilantes (they claim to be about 26,000 in Borno state alone). Their compensation demands will have to be addressed, especially if authorities consider offering deals to Boko Haram militants to lay down their weapons. In the longer term, vigilantes may become political foot soldiers, turn to organised crime or feed communal violence. Vigilantism can be a powerful counter-insurgency tool, but there is a compelling need to confront the immediate concerns it raises, notably in terms of impunity, and to begin planning for its long-term post-conflict transformation. Recommendations To protect civilians, limit risks to vigilantes and improve accountability To the governments of Nigeria, Cameroon, Chad and Niger: Abstain, as much as possible, from creating additional standing vigilante units and focus instead on building intelligence and communication networks through which civilians can obtain state protection when needed. Ensure that as many civilians as possible have access to functional communication networks and can call on regular security forces, especially where risks remain high. Encourage, when necessary to maintain vigilante forces, their formalisation, including registration, and systems for internal oversight and external accountability, and include community oversight in accountability mechanisms. Supply assault rifles only to select groups of better-trained CJTF and for mission-specific purposes, such as when they serve as auxiliaries, while ensuring that those weapons are registered and remain security-service property. Synchronise CJTF accountability mechanisms with those of the federal Nigeria Police Force. Hold to account those vigilantes suspected of abuses, notably for sexual and gender-based violence, and ensure transparent and fair investigation of all suspects in accordance with domestic and international law, while publicising any judicial decisions. Provide vigilantes training programs that mix practical skills (eg, intelligence, first aid, handling of landmines and improvised explosive devices) and instruction in applicable national and international laws, while involving the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) and relevant human rights groups (eg, in Nigeria, the National Human Rights Commission) in the latter. To donors: Adjust legal guidelines to permit assistance in building justice and accountability mechanisms. To acknowledge the contribution of the vigilantes and manage expectations To the governments of Nigeria, Cameroon, Chad and Niger: Combat stereotyping that certain entire ethnic communities, notably the Kanuri, support Boko Haram by highlighting vigilante efforts from those groups. Respect vigilantes publicly and give sufficient and standardised assistance packages to those wounded or killed in the line of duty and their families. Set expectations for compensation transparently through public announcements on what is being offered and to whom, who is not eligible and when it will end, so as not to motivate more vigilantism. To prepare for a transformation of the vigilantes and prevent the emergence of mafias and ethnic militias To the governments of Nigeria, Cameroon, Chad and Niger: Plan to transform vigilante units when the situation stabilises further, with each country following its own pace according to its security situation and according to the extent and role of vigilantism, notably by: planning demobilisation processes for the majority of vigilantes that include small grants to help them go back to their former occupations, complete their education or develop businesses; creating, given the likely continuation of some form of lower-level jihadist activity and rural unrest, particularly in Borno and Adamawa states, a temporary auxiliary body under the army or Police Mobile Force, drawing on the vigilantes who have received weapons training and served directly with security forces; and providing for their potential integration into the security forces if they meet the educational and other requirements and undergo retraining; combatting police and vigilante corruption vigorously, so it does not undermine professionalism, and improving ties with local communities; and selecting, vetting, retraining and equipping a number of vigilantes with the help of local civil society organisations, so that they feed reports and early warning into both police and civil society networks. Prepare a disarmament plan that focuses exclusively on taking functional automatic weapons out of circulation. To donors: Support programs for vigilante demobilisation and to professionalise the police and their capacity to monitor and regulate temporary auxiliary forces. Dakar/Nairobi/Brussels, 23 February 2017 I.Introduction The insurgency launched in 2009 by Boko Haram, a radical revivalist Islamist movement established earlier in Borno state, in Nigeria’s north east and adjacent to Lake Chad, is now regional, affecting the border areas of Chad, Niger and Cameroon. In 2014-2015, it gained control of large swaths of territory in north-east Nigeria. Since 2015, Nigeria and its neighbours have progressively developed a stronger military response. Boko Haram has mostly been forced into enclaves on Lake Chad, the hills along the Nigeria-Cameroon border and forested areas of Borno state. It has reverted to suicide attacks and guerrilla war. Military pressure, importantly aided by vigilantes, has aggravated its internal divisions. This report describes how the vigilante groups were born, their connection with state agencies and institutions, how they function and their role in the conflict’s evolution. While special attention is paid to Borno, one of Nigeria’s 36 federated states and the heartland of the insurgency, it also analyses vigilantes’ operations elsewhere in the north east of the country and in Niger, Chad and Cameroon. It assesses vigilantism’s long-term impact and risks. As Boko Haram splinters and morphs into more discrete guerrilla forces, with renewed emphasis on terrorist attacks, it is timely to rethink the role of vigilantes and their governance and prepare for their transformation. Analysts working on all four affected countries were involved in preparation of the report, which feeds into Crisis Group’s larger research on curbing violent religious radicalism. Desk research was followed by interviews in the region’s capitals with state and military officials, intelligence officers, international military advisers and senior politicians. Research was also done in Maiduguri and Yola, the capitals of Nigerian Borno and Adamawa states, in Maroua, Mokolo, Makari and other localities of Cameroon’s Far North and in Niger’s Diffa region and Chad’s cities of Bol and Baga Sola, on Lake Chad. Researchers interviewed vigilantes, local state and security and non-governmental organisation officials, human rights activists, journalists, academics and citizens to investigate their understandings of the situation and their perceptions of peace, law and order. II.From Vigilantism to the CJTF A.State and Vigilantism: A Tale of Four Countries Law and order in the Lake Chad basin bears the imprint of pre-colonial and colonial times, when massive disruption occurred as states formed and disappeared due to a fast-changing regional economy increasingly shaped by global connections. Slave-raiding, banditry and cattle rustling fed local forms of self-defence. After often violent conquest, and frequently in alliance with local warlords, colonial states maintained relative peace, but particularly in rural areas they habitually relied on decentralised forces, the retinues of chiefs. Much has been made of the differences between colonial administrations, France’s Jacobin “direct rule” and the British tradition of “indirect rule” and reliance on pre-existing aristocracies.They should not be overstated: the colonial state relied everywhere on a strata of chiefs and their followers to levy taxes, mobilise labour and suppress dissent. The presence of local forces that are not part of the police or the army but are involved in providing law and order thus has a history in the region. This tradition became increasingly important as insecurity increased around Lake Chad from the 1980s, due to many factors, including population growth, the states’ budgetary problems, the resulting “structural adjustments”, urbanisation, the crisis in pastoralist societies (notably the Fulani) and the influx of automatic weapons and battle-hardened men from vanquished armies in Niger’s and Chad’s wars. Insecurity ranged from banditry (the kwanta kwanta in Nigeria and zargina in Cameroon) to all-out armed rebellion (most recently the Chad civil war, 2005-2010, and the Tuareg insurgencies in Niger in the 1990s and 2007). The situation was made worse by deterioration in the security forces. Alternative local security structures were reactivated or created. In the Lake Chad basin, they have often drawn on brotherhoods of hunters (yan baka, in Hausa, the region’s lingua franca) typical of West Africa or on the traditional chiefs’ palace guards (dogari, in Hausa). Some scholars argue that contemporary vigilantism has also been influenced by U.S. and European promotion of community policing. In many cities, night watches appeared, paid for by traders’ consortiums or the town councils. Each country’s history of war and rebellion has marked its response to Boko Haram. Chad and Niger view vigilantes with peculiar concern because of their recent revolts. Nonetheless, Chadian authorities occasionally encouraged vigilantes to fight against bandits in the past. For Niger, neighbouring Mali, where the army has long abandoned its pretence of a monopoly in use of force and communal militias have gained influence, is a powerful counter-model. Nevertheless, Nigerien vigilantes, such as the dan banga, were recently patrolling the market areas in the cities of Diffa and Mainé Soroa, and the governor of Niamey tried to mobilise similar groups a few years back. Cameroon has long relied on vigilantes. Groups controlled by chiefs played a strong part in the fight against the left-wing Union des Populations du Cameroun from the 1950s to the early 1970s. In the 1990s and early 2000s, the state cooperated with comités de vigilance against bandits in northern regions. However, in 2001 it created a well-armed elite force, the Bataillon d’Intervention Rapide (BIR), now at the forefront of the fight against Boko Haram. But vigilantes have always been part of the picture, for instance to combat cotton smugglers. The state is confident enough to mobilise the comités de vigilance on a large scale and feels it can control them through its territorial administration and local chiefs. In Nigeria, history provided both precedents and cautions. As elsewhere, vigilantes have long been involved in fighting bandits, usually without state coordination or official support. However, they have a record of getting out of hand. Some have become involved in violent local politics or have run protection rackets. The massive communal violence in central Nigeria has also fed authorities’ suspicions of irregular local forces. And while the 1999 constitution makes policing a federal prerogative, many states have been forming quasi-police forces. B.CJTF’s Birth: The Battle for Maiduguri The quasi-official narrative on anti-Boko Haram vigilantism is that in early 2013 Baba Jafar Lawan, a trader from Hausari, a borough of Maiduguri, went after a Boko Haram militant with a stick, capturing and delivering him to the authorities. Others, the story goes, started patrolling Hausari with him. Little by little, offshoots sprung up throughout the city. Several suspected Boko Haram members were handed over to the authorities; others were brutally killed by crowds. By June 2013, some 500 vigilantes were manning city checkpoints, armed with sticks and cutlasses. They became known as the Civilian Joint Task Force (CJTF), indicating they operated as a counterpart to the Joint Task Force (JTF) that coordinated the police, army and other security units fighting Boko Haram in Borno state. There was more to this than a spontaneous, popular resistance to a bloody and fanatic jihadist insurgency. Boko Haram’s violence was certainly hard on people in Maiduguri. Security officers, Islamic clerics critical of Boko Haram and civilians otherwise associated with the Borno state or the federal government were threatened and assassinated, and the wealthier members of the communities were extorted by the jihadists. But the security forces, too, were brutal, as they implemented collective punishment strategies, especially when soldiers and police were killed, including the burning of homes and mass arrests of male youths. Commanders’ unwillingness to curb these abuses provoked mounting tensions in Maiduguri. In addition, a state of emergency, from May to December 2013, that included a shutdown of phone services, fuelled economic problems for city traders. Many Maiduguri inhabitants felt their community had to fight Boko Haram so as to deflect security forces’ suspicion and retaliation. CJTF leaders confirm that many people joined because they feared both the jihadists and that if they did not isolate Boko Haram members, “they would be killed [by] soldiers who could not distinguish them from other youth and were killing indiscriminately”. Professor Mohamed Kyari, a noted analyst of the insurgency, has argued that the army’s retaliations were part of “a strategy aimed at compelling residents to cooperate with troops in exposing Boko Haram insurgents”, and that the CJTF included “repentant members of Boko Haram who were recruited by the military”, a textbook counter-insurgency move. Whatever the truth, CJTF members acknowledge that the security forces, and particularly the army, which had the JTF lead, were quick to appreciate the potential of a vigilante response in Maiduguri. The JTF organised the groups along its own lines of command, with Maiduguri divided into ten sectors. JTF officers were also involved in the selection of CJTF leaders, a chairman and a secretary for each sector, with whom they worked closely. A number of JTF checkpoints were handed over to the CJTF. Soon after, the CJTF formed links to the state’s major leaders, the Shehu of Borno, Abubakar Ibn Umar Garbai El-Kanemi, and Governor Kashim Shettima. The army and Borno state government cooperated in structuring the CJTF further. A number of mid-ranking state officials took key CJTF positions. As early as September 2013, an “orientation program”, the Borno Youths Empowerment Scheme (BOYES), selected and screened young men, who then received some military training from the army. State authorities gave them uniforms, patrol cars and identification documents (IDs), as well as a stipend. It was eventually announced that BOYES would train up to 6,000, but it stopped at around 1,850, apparently due to the army’s uncertainty about training so many potentially unreliable persons. Some recruits, suspected of association with Boko Haram and of trying to get training or intelligence, were arrested. CJTF-military cooperation has remained very close. The army later provided standard military training to about 200 members to create a “CJTF Special Force”, with greater weapon skills and operational capability, that could be used in front-line operations. By late 2013, Maiduguri was largely purged of Boko Haram cells, and there have been few subsequent attacks in the city, other than suicide operations, often against refugee camps on its periphery. Most intra-city checkpoints have disappeared. C.Spreading the CJTF Model Nigerian security services and Borno state authorities cooperated to spread the CJTF model. First, Maiduguri CJTF elements began accompanying the army outside the city. In July 2013, they were involved in operations in neighbouring Jere Local Government Area (LGA), as well as in more distant localities like Dikwa and Dawashi. As the army defended or took back LGAs throughout Borno state, it encouraged the formation of CJTF units, and Baba Jafar Lawan toured the state to raise them. Where there was scepticism, military officers visited communities to insist this was the government’s wish. The deputy governor publicly pressed the emir of Biu, a city in southern Borno where CJTF were not well received, to “encourage youth in his domain to form [a] vigilante group”. Much like in Maiduguri, communities knew refusing would be suspicious. The security services were closely involved in identifying local CJTF leaders. In a large northern Borno town, the CJTF chairman was a paid State Security Service (SSS) informant; in a small town close to Maiduguri, the appointee was a trader close to the authorities and security forces.CJTF leaders claimed to have recruited up to 45,000 members in Borno state, though the current leadership now speaks only of about 26,000, covering 22 of the state’s 27 LGAs. Vigilante forces have also emerged in the other north-eastern Nigerian states, at a pace and intensity largely dependent on the Boko Haram threat, but always in close connection to the security services and state authorities. Boko Haram’s threat in late 2014 to march on Yola, the capital of Adamawa state south of Borno, was met with a mobilisation of hunter brotherhoods. In addition to state authorities, several leading local political figures were essential in that, including former Vice President Atiku Abubakar (under President Olusegun Obasanjo), who has vast local investments; the then Senate Committee on Defence Chairman Jibrilla Bindow; Adamawa State House Representative Emmanuel Tsandu; and Federal House Representative Adamu Kamale. The local hunters played a major part in blocking Boko Haram and helped the army take back the cities of Gombi and Mubi in northern Adamawa. Adamawa’s Kanuri minority formed its own 300-men CJTF in March 2013, in close collaboration with security forces, to help screen internally displaces persons (IDPs) fleeing Borno state. Many Boko Haram leaders and members are Kanuri, and this sought to show “both the public and security agencies … that not all Kanuri in Yola were Boko Haram” and to preserve trader livelihoods. Civilian and security officials push less for organised vigilantes in Yobe and Gombe states, which were not so affected by the insurgency and where the security forces never seemed overwhelmed. Community leaders from the north east based in other regions have extended the monitoring of suspected Boko Haram activities, notably in Abuja and Lagos, Nigeria’s political and economic capitals respectively. They have been reporting to security services and occasionally conducting citizen arrests, sometimes with the support of CJTF who would come from Borno state and take the prisoners to Maiduguri. The CJTF model has spread to Nigeria’s Lake Chad neighbours. As Boko Haram stepped up activities in Cameroon and Chad, and the state and army realised their limitations, communities were called on to form self-defence groups. In Cameroon, the Far North region governor, Augustine Awa Fonka, issued an arrêté regional (regional decree) creating the comités locaux de vigilance in June 2014. After suicide bombings in Maroua, the region’s capital, in July 2015, the authorities pushed even harder. All villages in the Far North now reportedly have comités; according to one source, 16,000 vigilantes are on duty. Similarly, after Boko Haram’s first terror attacks in Chad’s capital, N’Djamena, in February 2015 the territorial administration minister called on local chiefs to “increase their vigilance”. During Chadian President Idriss Déby’s visit to Baga Sola in October 2015, authorities urged villages around the lake to create their own comités de vigilance. Niger’s case is somewhat unique. Though the mobilisation of armed civilians, based notably on the example of Algeria’s war on islamists in the 1990s, was discussed in Niamey policy circles, fears of ethnic militias, concerns about the cost of their demobilisation and their potential for political instrumentalisation and the country’s fragility led President Mahamadou Issoufou to decide otherwise. The Nigerien defeat in Bosso in June 2016 revived the debate, but the idea was rejected again. When militias were formed in 2016 among the Peul and Mohamid Arabs, deemed loyal to the state (or, more precisely, hostile to other communities, such as the Buduma, suspected of supporting Boko Haram), the authorities gave them free rein only briefly and quickly tried to resolve ethnic tensions. The cautious approach may also be due to early problems with Nigerian refugees, CJTF members among them, who organised self-defence groups in fear pursuit from Boko Haram. Locals in Yébi and Bosso accused Nigerian vigilantes of abuses and disrupting profitable cross-border trade. Some were detained and sent back with the help of Nigerian authorities. Instead of mobilising vigilantes, Niger has been using informant networks, though vigilante groups eventually formed in some of the more insecure areas, such as Bagara and Toumour. Officials in Nigeria, Chad and Cameroon recognise the vigilantes’ services. Senior officials have met with their leaders and handed out medals and prizes. Chad’s President Idriss Déby has visited vigilantes in the field (notably in Ngouboua on 4 June 2016), and then Nigerian President Goodluck Jonathan once hailed them as “new national heroes” in July 2013. III.Vigilantism, an Effective Counter-insurgency Tool? A.Variations in Profiles and Structures Depending on the country, vigilantes have been involved in a variety of missions. Nigeria has made the most intensive use of them, particularly in Borno state, where CJTFs have been carrying out intelligence, surveillance and protection missions in their communities, notably operating checkpoints and patrolling to check on newcomers in public spaces (mosques, markets and the entrances of villages and towns). As some communities were displaced, CJTF have followed, often continuing surveillance in their IDP camps or host communities. They perform arrests and deliver suspects to the security forces, and some have been closely involved as auxiliaries to those forces. They have also screened and interrogated suspects in detention centres. The army has asked them to join in long-distance operations, usually mixing CJTF familiar with the targeted terrain with groups from other areas. They have also been deployed away from their communities, to control newly captured towns or support local CJTF. In several instances, they have launched autonomous armed operations. Niger is at the other end of the spectrum, having made the most cautious use of vigilantes. After incidents with Nigerian vigilantes who had taken refuge in Niger, it banned civilians from manning roadblocks and bearing weapons, demanding that vigilantes work as an informant network with the army’s civil-military cooperation teams. Civilians, sometimes bearing crude weapons, have guided security patrols. As the conflict hit Niger harder, some front-line communities, such as Toumour and Bagara, eventually set up or remobilised classic vigilante groups for protection, often mixing local youth and IDPs. They man roadblocks and checkpoints, patrol and perform arrests. Chad and Cameroon are between these two extremes. Chad, which has been less exposed to jihadist attacks, is closer to the Nigerien case. Cameroon, attacked early and intensely, is closer to the Nigerian response. For instance, its vigilante units have launched their own small-scale assaults against Boko Haram bands, sometimes pursuing them across the Nigerian border. Because the states pushed for formation of vigilantes, they have exerted a degree of oversight, each in conformity with its habits and capacities. In Borno state, the few CJTF selected for BOYES training went through a vetting process, with the support of state authorities and security forces, including background checks and medical screening. The CJTF, though in a somewhat piecemeal fashion, issued IDs and compiled membership lists that were made available to the authorities. All BOYES trainees and some other CJTF received uniforms. Cameroon also tried to register vigilantes, as it had done in previous instances. Chad, with a weaker bureaucratic tradition, has relied much more on the chiefs, delegating selection, identification and control to them. In Niger, existing vigilante groups have registered their own members and given lists to the civilian and security officials. In all cases, oversight falls somewhere between local military commanders, the territorial administration (elected governors in Nigeria, the sous-préfets, préfets and governors appointed by the territorial administration or interior minister in Cameroon, Chad and Niger) and the local chiefs who answer to the local governments. In all four countries, vigilante leaders reported having the phone numbers of relevant military and civilian officials, and newly arrived officials quickly link up with them. In Cameroon and Chad, chiefs have played a major role in recruitment. In Cameroon, they sign IDs along with the sous-préfets and forward membership lists to the administration and security forces. In Borno state, both governor and army seem directly involved, to the point where they appear to give orders to CJTF. CJTF leaders, however, now insist they are independent. Symbolically, they have removed reference on their most recent IDs to the 7th Army Division and floated new unit names, probably to avoid too explicit links to the security services and Borno state. Significantly, the designation Borno State Youth Vanguard (BSYV) has now been replaced by Borno Youth Association for Peace and Justice (BYAPJ). But “CJTF” has captured the imagination and often remains on their IDs along with the new acronym.In Borno state in particular, attempts have been made to increase control over vigilantes, leading to some professionalisation. The initial groups included many underaged youths, but CJTFs are less numerous, and leaders insist they mobilise only adults. This seems largely true, though children still act as informers or are part of crowds that occasionally rally behind vigilantes for arrests. There is also increasing use of women, who are better able to check and search women without creating too much tension in a context where women are playing a greater role in the insurgency. Women are also occasionally involved in patrol and combat roles in vigilante units.States have been cautious about weapons, equipment and training. Rather haphazardly, the civilian and military authorities, as well as non-state backers, have provided some non-lethal equipment, such as metal detectors, phones, radios and torchlights, as well as transportation ranging from four-wheel drive vehicles to bicycles. All have been wary of arming and training most vigilantes, in order to limit weapon proliferation in general and avoid creating what a Cameroonian officer called “uncontrollable militia”. That the Boko Haram-affected areas in all four countries are those with ethnic Kanuri concentrations has made the four cautious about arming that community.In Maiduguri, the vigilantes initially used mostly sticks and cutlasses. As the CJTF expanded into rural areas, they carried traditional weapons such as bows and arrows, spears and “Dane guns” (locally manufactured rifles) or shotguns. In Borno state, only the sector commanders were permitted to own a modern weapon, though the army lent assault rifles to the CJTF for specific operations. Cameroon does not officially allow vigilantes automatic weapons, though a few former soldiers who have joined the comités have kept their modern arms. In Niger, the few Peul and Arab vigilante groups reportedly have some automatic weapons, which many nomads obtain to protect their herds. The Adamawa hunters, who had their own weapons, were given ammunition and additional guns by state officials and local patrons. Chad, more willing to rely on and trust traditional leaders, gave automatic weapons to chiefs and a dozen or so of their guards (the goumiers) in some threatened areas.This reticence to provide weapons is resented. A CJTF leader, an ex-member of earlier, anti-banditry militias, complained they were only Yan Gora (people with sticks, in Hausa), a phrase Boko Haram used to mock them. A Cameroon vigilante leader similarly deplored that it would be difficult to “keep terrorists at bay” with their “rudimentary weapons”. Throughout the region, there are indications that some vigilantes are buying weapons, taking them from defeated Boko Haram fighters and getting them from sympathisers in the security services.B.Resourcing for VigilantesThe Lake Chad states struggle with a dilemma: formalising the vigilantes would enable greater oversight but also cost, money that could be applied to other pressing needs, not least the humanitarian catastrophe triggered by the insurgency. It might also raise expectations and feed a sense of entitlement that could prove unsustainable, as well as create incentives that encourage the formation of more groups. Indeed, some vigilantes have been calling for “a permanent mechanism to help [them] provide the basics for [their families]”. Vigilantes, especially when they are high up in the hierarchy, often insist they are not paid for their service and have to spend their own money on duty.A variety of support systems provision and compensate vigilantes. The 1,850 Nigerian CJTF members formally recruited in the BOYES program are an exception, as they receive 15,000 naira (about $50) monthly, plus some health coverage. In Adamawa, hunters received a small state salary only during the tense moments when they were most needed. Otherwise, vigilantes have received haphazard financial support, gifts in cash or kind from state officials, local authorities, politicians, businessmen and military commanders. In Borno state, CJTF members participating in intelligence meetings or going with the army on operations may get per diem or a share of spoils captured from Boko Haram suspects and camps. In IDP camps, they often get a special share of the incoming aid.Communities used to provide for pre-Boko Haram vigilantes, sometimes raising money to pay small salaries or providing necessities in kind. This still happens, but there are reports that some vigilantes “beg” at checkpoints, where the voluntary nature of “donations” is open to debate. There also are reports of ad hoc, uneven assistance being given to the families of vigilantes killed in action. Communities have sometimes been left to fend for their own casualties.The same is true in the other three countries: vigilantes have been receiving some equipment and gifts of money and food from the presidency and military, as well as gifts in cash and kind from local notables and communities. Some form of “taxation” of communities has likewise been documented. In Cameroon, there have been several reports of Boko Haram’s loot being appropriated by the vigilantes, sometimes in association with the security forces.C.The Vigilante Effect(s)Assessing the vigilantes’ impact seems at first rather easy. In operational terms, there is little doubt they have been useful. Most soldiers, recruited from throughout their respective countries, often have little understanding of the local terrain (social or physical). Vigilantes have a better “sense of the normal and the abnormal” locally, which makes them apt to detect threats. Many people insist that the military’s lack of local language skills is a big problem that has resulted in unnecessary casualties. In the Lake Chad basin’s varied geography, from the marshes of Lake Chad to the hills and caves in Gwoza and the Mandara regions, soldiers can have a hard time without local guidance. Local knowledge explains the contribution of the lightly armed hunters of Adamawa, when they faced a Boko Haram force comprised of many city dwellers.Having witnessed the growth of Boko Haram groups in their communities, vigilantes often know some of the militants and their business partners, as well as who from their immediate environment is unexplainably absent. On many occasions, they have prevented suicide attacks or limited their impact by detecting suspicious characters early. Overall, vigilantes have helped make the military response more likely to hit proper rather than collective targets. For all this, they have paid a price. The recent official toll for the Borno state CJTF alone was 600 dead.Examining the broader impact brings more nuanced results. First, the decision by states to mobilise vigilantes has exposed them and their communities to Boko Haram retribution. As early as June 2013, a Boko Haram audio clip declared “an all-out war” on the youth of Maiduguri and Damaturu, “because [they] have formed an alliance with the Nigerian military and police to fight our brethren”. Boko Haram has launched many attacks on vigilantes, the traditional chiefs associated with them and their communities. It frequently used suicide attacks against CJTF groups and their markets, mosques and transport terminals. Much of the 2014-2015 peak in casualties was due to such retribution. There is evidence of extreme Boko Haram violence in response to vigilantism in the other three countries. In Niger for instance, the communities of Lamana and Ngoumao, among the few to have set up armed units, were brutally attacked in June 2015, and 38 villagers were killed. Promotion of vigilantism was a principal driver that turned the conflict from an anti-state insurgency into a messy civil war, pitting Boko Haram against communities. Early on, a CJTF leader in Maiduguri noted: “We have crossed the Rubicon, and there is no going back. Boko Haram have declared war on us and even if we stop hunting them down, they will still come after us, so we have to fight to the finish”. This forced ever more people to pick a side, when many would have preferred not to get involved. In at least one case in a small Borno town, the local traditional leader opposed forming a vigilante unit, lest it lead to retribution. When some Boko Haram members came to threaten the community, he mockingly referred the population to the vigilantes, who could only flee and hide when the jihadists returned in force to kill suspected opponents and loot. Forcing communities to pick a side may well have benefitted the states, as most seem to have favoured their governments. Vigilante mobilisation and Boko Haram reprisals have helped recreate a link between the security services and substantial portions of the population, particularly in Borno state. An observer noted that Cameroon troops no longer detain those who volunteer information, assuming a Boko Haram connection, a habit that would scare off potential informers. Vigilantism has been a way for some civilians to regain a form of control in a situation of extreme uncertainty and powerlessness. The material benefits have mattered, but perhaps even more important than these occasional profits has been the relative protection from security-service suspicions that vigilante membership affords. Indeed, the groups grew when it became clear they had official support. In the uncertainty created by blunt, abusive counter-insurgency operations, an official ID or being on a list of approved members can mean appreciable protection, a modicum of security that vigilantes can hope to extend to their kith and kin. Affiliation with a vigilante unit can also importantly make travel through government-controlled areas safer. Vigilantism, however, is not without problems. Cooperation with security forces is not easy: there is considerable mutual suspicion and accusations, particularly in Cameroon and Nigeria. Security sources say that some vigilantes double as Boko Haram agents or resell goods stolen by the jihadists. Several Cameroonian chiefs and comités de vigilance members, as well as the CJTF chairman of one of Maiduguri’s ten sectors (along with some military personnel), have been accused and arrested. Vigilantes also have occasionally accused the security services of double-dealing – selling weapons to Boko Haram, or being too lenient with suspects they handed over, sometimes releasing them within hours. In March 2014, CJTF captured five armed men in Maiduguri, whom the army later claimed were soldiers in civilian garb. This led to a clash, with angry youths chanting that “soldiers are the real Boko Haram; soldiers are masters of Boko Haram”. Two vigilantes were killed. At the least, this episode attests to a degree of mistrust between the army and some vigilantes. The justice issue is particularly sensitive. Vigilantism, because it emerges from the weak state’s inability to maintain law and order and is frequently fed by a desire for revenge for personal losses, has a built-in bias for rough justice. There have been ample reports of abuses. In the CJTF’s early Maiduguri days, June-July 2013, several Boko Haram suspects were burned alive. The International Federation for Human Rights says “hundreds of summary executions” took place then. Subsequently, CJTF were reportedly involved, with the army, in rounding up and killing 600 prisoners who had escaped from the main military detention centre in Maiduguri, Giwa Barracks, in March 2014. According to one account, vigilantes paraded in the town of Biu in southern Borno in November 2014 with the heads of some 40 alleged Boko Haram militants on pikes. In June 2015, Amnesty International reported that Nigerian vigilantes and the army committed severe human rights violations, including torture and execution of Boko Haram suspects. CJTF officials admit to “tough measures” during interrogations. Some observers suggest that the security services, particularly in Nigeria, have delegated suspect interrogation to vigilantes because of language skills and to keep as clean a human rights record as possible. CJTF says otherwise and seems to defer to the military on summary executions. In 2014, a CJTF reportedly knew it could not “render justice themselves”, so took suspects to the barracks, “where soldiers kill[ed] them”. A CJTF leader mentioned in an interview that he had handed over to the army his own nephew, who he knew was a jihadist militant, and that it had (rightly) executed him. Several interviewees mentioned that some CJTF members were “pompous”, hinting that they derived an undue sense of self-importance and impunity from their power. Vigilantes also have engaged in other abuses, including sexual violence and extortion. Herdsmen in particular, as they circulate in the bush with valued cattle, have been targets. There are reported cases of vigilantes levelling false accusations against persons with whom they have personal feuds. Human rights organisations have noted how those with a bit of power in IDP camps demand sexual services or money in exchange for favours, including the right to leave the camps or build a house there.These include the CJTF, though a human rights specialist said that because vigilantes are usually from the IDP communities, they are somewhat less prone to commit abuses. In one instance at least, IDPs in a camp fought abusive vigilantes. CJTF leaders assert that an organisation was needed precisely to curb abuses and insist they put in place a structure to monitor behaviour, with provosts and a disciplinary committee chaired by a member who is a lawyer. Sources verified that they suspended or dismissed several members and referred others to the police. The leaders also say civilians have filed abuse charges against a dozen members, though Crisis Group was unable to confirm this. Some CJTF leaders have received instruction in international humanitarian law. There is some understanding among the vigilantes and their state and army partners that abuses can reduce the efficiency of a mobilisation. The replacement of rough justice mobs by partly-professionalised vigilantes and recruitment of female vigilantes are attempts to address these concerns. It seems that community pressure is an important form of control, which is why in Maiduguri (after initial abuses) it was quickly decided that vigilantes would operate close to their neighbourhoods, where they would know and be known by people. There is evidence the human rights situation has improved somewhat under President Buhari, for a variety of reasons. International human rights organisations and civil society activists report changes in Maiduguri, including in the main military detention centre, Giwa Barracks.International focus on sexual and gender-based violence in IDP camps led to several arrests in December 2016 in Maiduguri, including of two CJTF members. But there is not much solid evidence to suggest vigilantes are often held accountable for human rights violations. Little is known about what goes on during operations in remote territory or the impact of any abuses on local communities and vigilante relations with Boko Haram or the state. Nevertheless, the bottom line for many civilians seems to be that vigilantes have done more good than harm. IV.The Possible Risks Ahead Vigilantism is a symptom of the weaknesses of the Lake Chad states, especially their disappointing delivery of security and law and order. Almost as soon as vigilante groups formed, especially in Nigeria, a debate began on the risks they could pose for the future. State and security services understand some of these, as exemplified by caution over providing weapons, attempts at screening and the strong Nigerian army oversight of the CJTF. But the Lake Chad states have often struggled to control the risks resulting from reliance on vigilantes to fight Boko Haram. All these risks are more acute in Nigeria, where the conflict has been most intense, vigilantes are more numerous and active and the state faces bigger challenges and the difficulties of policymaking in a federal system. A.The Handling of Claims One of the most significant issues may be the handling of vigilante claims for service and sacrifice, particularly when economies are struggling at both national and local levels. The conflict has devastated the interlinked Lake Chad regional economy. Trade in cash crops is banned or severely depressed (often intentionally by the military to prevent Boko Haram from taxing it); many traders have fled, fighting has destroyed much of the physical and social infrastructure, and agricultural production is extremely low. Massive displacement has triggered a humanitarian disaster, especially in Borno state. All this makes it harder to address vigilantes’ demands. Some vigilantes joined not only for protection or short-term material benefits, but also for the rights and prospects they felt membership opened for future state rewards. Many have post-war jobs, scholarship or demobilisation money in mind. Some CJTF members mention the Niger Delta Presidential Amnesty Program, under which insurgents were pardoned, put on the government payroll and given vocational training or education: “These rebels get something, so what should we get, we who have fought for the state?” Some vigilantes view their service explicitly as an advance against an expected reward. Through cooperation with the security services, particularly in Nigeria, vigilantes have become de facto apprentices, a classic path to a job, including a state job, in West African societies. Vigilante leaders have sometimes been quite outspoken about their expectations from and frustration with the state, and some political leaders have begun to respond. The BOYES program was one such response. The Borno State Vigilantism and Youth Empowerment Agency Law voted in May 2015 was another, and in April 2016, Borno state Governor Shettima announced a program to create 20,000 jobs for CJTF members. In Borno, the army and DSS have absorbed 280 vigilantes into their ranks, but the actual demobilisation programs are only at the planning stage, which makes sense given the persisting security risks. One of the tricky aspects in handling claims is their administration. There are several instances where previous rewards and incentives, for instance inclusion in the BOYES program, have created strong tensions and competition among vigilantes, with accusations of nepotism and favouritism. Denouncing how some leaders have gotten rich, secured homes in government housing projects or “privatis[ed]” cars, some vigilantes insist they have left the movement, refuse to register and will not become involved in an eventual demobilisation program. The handling of vigilantes is even more important at a moment when states are pondering programs to encourage Boko Haram members to “exit”. Several vigilantes expressed displeasure about these, some asserting bluntly that death should be the only way out. This attitude is fed by vigilantes’ security concerns and memories of Boko Haram violence, but also by their sense of entitlement. B.From Vigilantes to Political Thugs, Mafias or Ethnic Militias Vigilantism’s downside and risks are well-known in Nigeria, where groups such as the Bakassi Boys and the Oodua People’s Congress have turned into major political forces in other regions.There are various ways in which vigilante groups can evolve, even as the situation which has given rise to them fades away – and the Boko Haram threat is still far from that. The first risk, politicisation of vigilantes, notably around elections, is particularly acute in Nigeria, because votes for governors, who control opaque budgets funded by enormous oil revenues, can be extremely competitive and violent. Gangs of thugs hired to attack opponents’ supporters and to provide security are common. Indeed, Borno ex-Governor Ali Modu Sheriff relied on a vigilante group, ECOMOG (named after the West African peacekeeping force), for his 2003 campaign. Some analysts argue that soon after his victory, he let most go and that some later turned to Boko Haram in disappointment. An internal source reported that when the CJTF formed, a number of ECOMOG thugs still backing Sheriff joined, but CJTF leaders prevented them from rising in the ranks, fearing they were political proxies. Whether this is an indication of the CJTF’s neutrality or their own politicisation is open to interpretation. Some observers suspect current Borno Governor Shettima’s BOYES program is partially political clientelism, an attempt to turn the vigilantes into a political network using counter-insurgency funding. At least one episode suggests the vigilantes’ political potential: in 2013, CJTF burned the house of the Borno state chairman of the All Nigeria Peoples’ Party (ANPP), alleging he supported Boko Haram, but some suspect this had to do with an internal ANPP feud. During the 2015 election campaign, many CJTF were seen at rallies of the All Progressives Congress (APC), Shettima’s current party. It is not clear how much control he has over the CJTF, but throughout the Lake Chad region politicians on all sides are keen on cultivating relations with these groups. Vigilantism has potential to feed ethnic or ethno-religious cleavages, because its focus is the defence of a specific local community. In the Cameroon locality of Amchidé, for instance, the initial comité de vigilance was controlled by Christians and harassed Muslims. It was eventually dissolved by the authorities and replaced by a mixed comité. Vigilantism is often also in an ambivalent relationship with the established orders of chiefdom and patriarchy, particularly in rural areas. It can cut both ways, sometimes revalidating “decentralised despotism”, a two-tier state system whereby peripheral areas, usually rural, are governed on the cheap, through delegation to chiefs with dubious claims to legitimacy and fitness to rule. At other times, it can give some autonomy to the young men (and occasionally women) who are the muscle of the vigilante forces. Finally, if vigilantes are not disbanded, they can become mafias that turn to protection rackets and organised crime. The question is what happens when those who have become accustomed to receiving salaries or “gifts” react when these cease. This is not a new phenomenon in the Lake Chad basin, where the distinction between vigilantes, regular security force members and bandits or rebels can be fluid. Some vigilantes have already been using their relative impunity to engage in crime, from small-scale drug trafficking to resale of stolen goods. V.Marching on with Vigilantes Given vigilantism’s size, the persistent insecurity and security forces’ overstretch, notably in Nigeria and Cameroon, neither neglect nor suppression is feasible. A.In the Short Term, Improving Accountability Niger’s choice to use vigilantes relatively modestly as surveillance networks is predicated on the ability of its regular forces more or less to keep Boko Haram at bay. This in turn has been possible in part because the jihadists’ assault has come later and been less intense, and because, having largely abandoned its portion of Lake Chad, the country’s remaining area is more easily watched. These conditions may well be changing, as Barnawi’s Boko Haram faction appears to be gathering strength on Lake Chad and along the Komadugu River, which delineates the eastern Niger-Nigeria border. That there is now a full-fledged vigilante force in Toumour and some other sites may be a sign of the times. Oversight and accountability improvements are much needed. The institutional mechanisms created by the Borno state CJTF, with provosts and a disciplinary committee, are welcome and could be improved and replicated elsewhere. It also would be useful to show that vigilantes are held accountable by making information publicly available on cases and decisions submitted to the committee, perhaps by a yearly report and periodic engagement with human rights entities. In any case, the courts must examine allegations of grave human rights violations by vigilantes. Governments should devise a legal framework for their operations that holds members explicitly accountable, and the security services should give vigilantes instruction on human rights and legal obligations along with such practical skills as demining and intelligence work. The Lake Chad countries should acknowledge a responsibility to those they mobilise. Among other things, they should make sure all vigilantes have access to functional communication networks and can call in regular troops promptly when needed. B.Symbolic and Material Rewards There is need to acknowledge, including in national media, the effort vigilantes make. In societies where ethnicity can be very political, and the communities most affected by Boko Haram have come under suspicion as a whole, skilful promotion of some exemplary vigilante figures would be a good way both to recognise their commitment and courage and to contain stereotyping that links certain ethnic groups to Boko Haram. Symbolic rewards also matter. Ceremonies, medals and diplomas have become standard and have some impact. Honouring those killed or maimed in association with some material attention to their families would also help, but action on this count has been too haphazard. Disbanding vigilante groups should be linked with some gainful sustainable employment and be supported by donors. If this is not fully practical, perhaps a distinction could be made, particularly in Borno state, between those who have stayed local and for whom militia service has been just one aspect of continuing lives, and those who have been displaced or chosen to move and become security-force auxiliaries. For those who have stayed in their community, governments, with donor help, should plan on some sort of association (as paid labour or staff) with the rehabilitation of damaged infrastructure that is featured in all post-conflict plans. National security is the sector most often mentioned by vigilantes themselves with regard to jobs after their groups are disbanded. Nigeria has already taken small steps. This should only apply to a small fraction of vigilantes, however, because normal educational requirements need to apply so as to avoid further weakening the security institutions. This is particularly the case in Nigeria, where the constitution requires a balance between communities in public recruitment, according to the principle of the country’s “federal character”. To make it acceptable that not everyone can be taken, recruitment has to proceed in as transparent a manner as possible. For the bulk of vigilantes, demobilisation must be carefully planned, with grants to help them go back to their occupations, finish education or develop businesses. Such programs are never fully successful, but they help motivate returns to normal lives. It is the least the countries can do, and partners should assist. It would also help kick-start a regional economy that is in ruins. C.In the Long Term, Rethinking Community Policing Throughout the Lake Chad basin, police are largely or exclusively national. Nigeria’s federal police is a dysfunctional, often brutal force, one reason why vigilantes have formed in the first place and Boko Haram has appeared. Some have suggested recreating local forces as a solution. Given how tense state politics has become in Nigeria, a full-fledged police force at the governor’s command would be risky. At least as far as Borno state is concerned and given the likely continuation of some form of jihadist activity and rural unrest, it would make sense to create a federal body of auxiliaries under the army, State Security Service, Nigerian Security and Civil Defence Corps (NSCDC) or the mobile police to accommodate a portion of the CJTF, notably those with weapons training. Transparent recruitment is essential, and provision should be made for their potential integration, if they meet educational requirements and are retrained. This breach of the principle of Nigeria’s “federal character” would need national assembly approval. With the help of local civil society organisations, other selected vigilantes might be retrained and redirected toward reporting and early-warning mechanisms linked to both the police and civil society organisations. This would build usefully on the fact that, particularly in rural areas, vigilantes have become important connectors to the state. D.For a Reasoned Disarmament The proliferation of weapons in the Lake Chad basin is part of the structural problems that have fed instability and allowed Boko Haram, at least initially, to portray itself as a provider of (religious) law and order. A disarmament program is necessary. States are already calling for it and have restricted access to gun licences in conflict areas. However, not all guns are the same. The program should be limited to functional automatic weapons and not spend money on decommissioning hunting rifles and locally produced guns, which are easily replaced and less lethal. VI.Conclusion Vigilantes have been essential in turning back the Boko Haram tide, but the jihadist group remains resilient. As the conflict continues to evolve, so will vigilantes. They are enmeshed with high politics, particularly in Nigeria, and local intercommunal relations, business operations and chiefdoms. Vigilantism is as much a long-term symptom of state weakness in the Lake Chad basin as a short-term solution to it. To address the drivers of armed extremism, Lake Chad countries must return state presence to the region, not least by reintroducing accountability and law and order. As part of this process, the CJTF and comités de vigilance will need either to be slowly disbanded or formalised and regulated. Getting relations and expectations right with their members should be an urgent aspect of rebuilding security in the region. __________________________________________________________________________________________________________ (c) 2017 International Crisis Group

South Africa’s High Court blocked the government’s attempt to withdraw from the International Criminal Court (ICC) on Wednesday, the latest blow to President Jacob Zuma. A high court judge instructed the government to revoke its notice of withdrawal from the court based in The Hague, Netherlands. South Africa’s main opposition party had gone to court, saying the government's notice was illegal because parliament was not consulted. “South Africa does not want to be lumped together with pariah states who have no respect for human rights,” the Democratic Alliance said. “This is a victory for the rule of law and indeed for our country's human rights-based foreign policy which Zuma and his cronies have tried so hard to depart from,” DA spokesman James Selfe said. “Clearly Zuma and his ANC have absolutely no respect for the constitution.” “What is so pressing for the national executive about the withdrawal ... which cannot wait for our legislative processes to take their course?” the court's ruling said. “Government respondents have not provided any explanation for this seemingly urgent need to withdraw from the Rome Statute” that created the tribunal. Justice Minister Michael Masutha said the government would press ahead with withdrawing from the Hague-based tribunal, noting that the ruling was based largely on procedure – that the decision to pull out did not pass first through parliament. Mr Masutha said the ruling amounted to a delay that would not stop the government's bid to leave an institution that some African governments feel unfairly targets Africans and which Pretoria said was at odds with its diplomatic immunity laws. The ICC, which was launched in July 2002 and has 124 member states, is the first legal body with permanent international jurisdiction to prosecute genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes. Pretoria notified the United Nations of its intent to withdraw in October, starting a year-long divorce period that would have made South Africa the first country to quit the court in October this year. South Africa's withdrawal announcement followed a 2015 dispute over a visit by Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir, who is wanted by the ICC for alleged war crimes, crimes against humanity and genocide in Darfur. Al-Bashir was allowed to leave South Africa even though a local court ordered authorities to arrest him. Under the Rome Statute, signatory countries have a legal obligation to arrest anyone sought by the ICC. South Africa said the treaty contradicts its diplomatic immunity law and prevents the country from acting as a regional peacemaker, a role that could require it to host adversaries on its own soil. The government previously said a withdrawal bill would go to parliament, where the ruling African National Congress party has a majority and likely would approve it. However, the court's ruling could mean a significant delay in the process, and some legal experts speculate that the government might consider dropping its withdrawal plan ahead of the next presidential elections in 2019. South Africa withdrawal notification alarmed international human rights groups and has raised fears of an African exodus from the court, which has more than 120 member states. Some African countries have argued that the court has unfairly targeted their continent and have instead advocated strengthening their own institutions to deal with threats to human rights. All but one of the court's full-scale investigations are in Africa, though the majority were referred to the court by the African countries themselves and two by the UN Security Council. Former UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon had said he regretted South Africa's decision to withdraw from the ICC and expressed hope that the government would reconsider it. A country's withdrawal becomes effective a year after formally notifying the U.N. chief. In South Africa's case, that is expected in October. It was not immediately clear whether the court ruling has stopped the clock on that process. Backers of the court were dismayed by South Africa's move to withdraw, especially after former President Nelson Mandela had been a strong advocate for the court's creation. Three African states - South Africa, Gambia and Burundi – last year signalled their intention to quit the ICC. Gambia’s President Adama Barrow, elected in December, said earlier this month that the tiny West African nation would remain in the ICC. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ (c) 2017 International

Bosnia has formally asked the UN's top court to review its ruling which cleared Serbia of genocide in the 1990s, Bosnia's Muslim leader has said. Bakir Izetbegovic, a member of Bosnia's tripartite presidency, said he was seeking "truth and justice". Bosnian Serb officials warned the move would trigger a "serious crisis" in the country. In 2007, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) cleared Serbia of direct responsibility for genocide. The ICJ found only one act of genocide during Bosnia's 1992-95 war - the massacre of about 8,000 Bosnian Muslim (Bosniak) men and boys by Bosnian Serb forces in the town of Srebrenica in 1995. It was Europe's worst atrocity since World War Two. The ICJ ruled that Serbia had violated international law by failing to prevent the killings, but absolved it of direct responsibility. 'Serious crisis' On Thursday, Mr Izetbegovic told reporters that "the request [for a review] is being submitted at this very moment". "I think that I am on the path of truth and justice," he added. The appeal was launched before a 10-year deadline expires on 26 February. Mladen Ivanic, the Serb member of the presidency, said the move should have been made collectively by the tripartite body, where a Bosnian Croat also has a seat. "I am afraid that we have entered a really serious crisis," Mr Ivanic said. Meanwhile, Serbia Prime Minister Aleksandar Vucic earlier described Mr Izetbegovic's intentions as "bad" for relations between the two countries. Following the 1992-1995 war, Bosnia is now an independent state under international administration. Its three main ethnic groups are Bosniaks (Bosnian Muslims), Croats and Serbs. Politicians from Bosnia's two semi-independent entities - the Muslim-Croat Federation and the Republika Srpska - have often clashed, triggering political crises. The powers of the central government in the capital Sarajevo are very limited. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ (c) BBC News Europe

KUALA LUMPUR — The religious officers raided actress Faye Kusairi’s family home after someone reported her for being “too close” to a person of the opposite sex in an isolated place, an offense punishable in Malaysia with up to two years in prison. It was late at night and they didn’t even have a warrant. Aiming to catch the lovers in an inappropriate situation, five agents cut off the safety grill of her family penthouse duplex and broke the fireproof door to go in. But Faye was not even there: she was out with a friend. Instead the agents found her father, mother, and brother. That happened in April 2016; she has not yet received yet an official apology. “They told my father that they were looking for me with someone else’s husband,” Faye says. At least they fixed the door. False and inaccurate denunciations are a recurring pattern, a particularly concerning trend given the authority of Malaysia’s religious officers, who investigate violations of the sharia code. “Their powers are similar to that of a police investigating a civil offense, i.e murder,” according to Malaysian lawyer Fahri Azzat. In December, officials broke into a police officer’s apartment on the fourth floor. Instead of a couple caught in the act, they found a single woman in one of the rooms — and an open window. Her lover had jumped from the window to evade arrest and later died in the hospital. Another policeman also suffered several injuries after jumping to escape from the morality agents that night. The religious police are not only looking for espoused lovers in hotels and homes. Among the offenses that breach the sharia code is pre-marital sex or extra-marital sex, alcohol consumption, not fasting during Ramadan, or not attending mosque on Fridays. The agents also persecute Shiite Muslims as well as homosexuals and transsexuals, who are considered men who “dress or act” as women. Islam in Malaysia has become more conservative in recent years and the reach of hardline religious authorities is increasing. Fatwas (the rulings of religious scholars) have taken on all the force of law. In many cases, religious officials take media with them on their morality raids and video footage, including the faces and personal information of suspects, is broadcast on national television. The mainstream media has a tendency to focus on morality and some reports are reported in a sensationalistic manner which at times violates people’s privacy. “This hinders people from seeking redress and sharing their experiences, as they fear the repercussions. Reports of the arrest of trans women in the media have led to [their] termination of employment or tension in the family,” explains Thilaga Sulathireh, a researcher at the NGO Justice for Sisters. In Malaysia, about 60 percent of the population is Muslim, most of them ethnic Malay. But many others, including many Malaysians of Chinese and Indian descent, or members of indigenous tribes, are Buddhist, Hindu, Christian, or non-religious. The 1957 Constitution in theory guarantees religious freedom for non-Malays, but at the same time Islam is the religion of the state. Muslims are subject to a double legal system and some of the cases are tried by specific sharia courts, different from those of the ordinary judicial system. Muslims cannot go unnoticed because their religion is indicated on their identity cards, while it is not specified for members of other religions. Anyone who wants to marry a Muslim must convert to Islam. Choosing a different religion is not an easy task, as it requires the approval of an Islamic court. Renouncing Islam in some states is a criminal offense. The context also affects non-Muslims. All Malaysian women should cover their legs in some government buildings. A few weeks ago the Department of Islamic Development recommended that the pretzel franchise Auntie Anne rename their “Pretzel dog” to a “Pretzel sausage” to receive a halal certificate (signifying foods that are allowed to be eaten according to Islam). Only Muslims can use the word Allah, the Arabic word for God, even though it is also a Christian term for describing their own deity. Malay-language Bibles are banned everywhere except in churches. And for disappointed Christians, this is only one example of increasing Islamization in the country. Saint Valentine Day’s global celebrations are banned for Muslims. The religious authorities claim this is a Christian celebration that also promotes promiscuity and immoral activities. This year, as part of the annual anti-Valentine’s day campaign, a Muslim youth group called on Muslim women to avoid using emoticons in text messages and refrain from wearing “excessive” fragrance in the presence of a man that is not a relative. They also called on Muslim youths to publicly berate unmarried Muslim couples who were dating on February 14. Since independence from the United Kingdom in 1957, Malaysia has been uninterruptedly governed by a coalition known as Barisan Nasional, which includes parties representing the largest ethnic groups and is led by the United Malays National Organization (UMNO), which holds key posts, such as that of the prime minister. For decades, the opposition Pan-Malaysia Islamic Party (PAS), has been stirring the pot with the aim of legalizing the most bloodthirsty Islamic punishments, such as amputations or stoning. The government has fought against its demands, but the UMNO lost voters in the last elections. Since then its popularity has fallen even further, thanks to corruption scandals. This state of affairs will increase pressure on the UMNO to give into the demands of PAS to win over religious hardliners. Phil Robertson, deputy director for Asia for Human Rights Watch, says that for Prime Minister Najib Razak, principles have gone out the window as his political career has been threatened. “It now appears there is no price too high for him in terms of human rights and community harmony if it means saving his own skin,” Robertson says. In March lawmakers in Malaysia will debate a bill to amend the Sharia Court Act. This project, often referred to as Hadi’s Bill after its proposer, the president of PAS Abdul Hadi Awang, seeks to increase sharia punishments, as enforced by the morality police. The bill calls for sharia punishments to extend to a maximum 30 years’ imprisonment, RM100,000 (US$22,400) fine, and 100 lashes of the cane. If passed, the bill would threaten the secular nature of the government and pose a serious threat to human rights. Last weekend, PAS organized a rally to prove it has majority support for the bill, and around 20,000 people attended. A second smaller counter-rally gathering was organized by a group of activists calling themselves BEBAS (which means “free” in Malay). According to Justice for Sisters, some Malaysians are now seeking asylum abroad “for lack of freedoms and religion” at home. Another of the NGO’s biggest concerns is “how this environment [in Malaysia] is fertile for the rise of vigilance and other extremist groups.” Malaysia’s religious police aren’t going anywhere; the only question is how strong they will become. Ana Salvá is a freelance journalist based in Southeast Asia. (c) The Diplomat 2017

Once again, there are signs of growing xenophobia in South Africa. Despite the lives lost in previous waves of violence, the country has still not learned this painful lesson. It’s a familiar escalating narrative: vigilante groups accuses foreign migrants of local crime and go on attack, the government blames “criminal elements,” the public marches against xenophobia, and little more is done to prevent future violence. In frustration, Nigeria has gone straight to the African Union to urge the continental body to step in before previous years’ killings are repeated, according to a media report on Feb. 21. Earlier this month, South Africans accusing foreigners of bringing drugs and prostitution to their neighborhood torched the homes of African migrants. Johannesburg’s mayor accompanied police on a subsequent raid of the area, apparently making good on an election promise to rid the city of crime and people who are here “illegally.” That sentiment spread to Pretoria, where foreign-owned shops were looted overnight on Feb. 20. Now, a group of “concerned” South African citizens are reportedly planning a march on Feb. 24 with xenophobic undertones that have alarmed the African Diaspora Forum. “We write to you so that when South Africa experiences a repeat of the 2008 xenophobic violence which left at least 62 people dead, you will not be surprised,” the forum said in a letter, urging South Africa’s president to act. The 2008 wave of attacks left thousands displaced, 342 immigrant-owned shops looted and 213 burned down. The violence and hate was captured with the image of a Mozambican man burned alive. The shame was quickly forgotten and again in 2015, Zulu King Goodwill Zwelithini’s comments that foreigners should “pack their bags” and leave, sparked violence that ended once South Africa deployed the army. At least five people were killed and nearly 2,000 migrants forced into refugee camps, again. The death toll from these waves of anti-migrant violence is a very conservative number according to the African Centre for Migration and Society in Johannesburg. The center’s XenoWatch data tracker estimates that there have been almost 360 xenophobic murders since 2008, particularly of Zimbabwean, Mozambicans and Somalis. There is a history of attacks on foreigners dating back to 1994, when apartheid ended and South Africa billed itself as a “Rainbow Nation” that embraced diversity. African migrants are the most vulnerable, competing for limited resources in the same impoverished areas as most of South Africa’s black majority. Many have come from volatile countries like Burundi or Somalia, seeking business opportunities from states like Nigeria or Ethiopia, or from nearby neighbors like Mozambique and Zimbabwe. The violence has been so acute against fellow Africans that the government labeled it Afrophobia. They implored citizens to remember how African nations led the international struggle against apartheid, but often falls on deaf ears of South Africa. Some Pakistani, Bangladeshi and Chinese migrants, who run businesses in black neighborhoods, have also been targets. These anti-foreigner beliefs are not held by the majority, but the few who do hold these views have succeeded in making the country feel like an “open prison.” The death toll from these waves of anti-migrant violence is a very conservative number according to the African Centre for Migration and Society in Johannesburg. The center’s XenoWatch data tracker estimates that there have been almost 360 xenophobic murders since 2008, particularly of Zimbabwean, Mozambicans and Somalis. There is a history of attacks on foreigners dating back to 1994, when apartheid ended and South Africa billed itself as a “Rainbow Nation” that embraced diversity. African migrants are the most vulnerable, competing for limited resources in the same impoverished areas as most of South Africa’s black majority. Many have come from volatile countries like Burundi or Somalia, seeking business opportunities from states like Nigeria or Ethiopia, or from nearby neighbors like Mozambique and Zimbabwe. The violence has been so acute against fellow Africans that the government labeled it Afrophobia. They implored citizens to remember how African nations led the international struggle against apartheid, but often falls on deaf ears of South Africa. Some Pakistani, Bangladeshi and Chinese migrants, who run businesses in black neighborhoods, have also been targets. These anti-foreigner beliefs are not held by the majority, but the few who do hold these views have succeeded in making the country feel like an “open prison.” ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ (c) 2017 Quartz Media