Virginia Journal of International Affairs - Spring 2021 by Wilson Journal of International Affairs

VIRGINIA JOURNAL of INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS

SPRING 2021

Virginia Journal of International Affairs Spring 2021

Contents Editorial Staff

Information

From the Editor

Manaal Khwaja

Japan’s Womenomics Policy & American Identity Politics: How Female Equality Fares When a Feminist Agenda is used for a Higher Economic Purpose versus a Political Purpose

Madeline Halgren

Rejecting Neutrality: Advancing the Politics of Humanitarian Solidarity

Noah Strike

Terror at Mass Gatherings in the Media: A case study in the 2013 Boston Marathon bombings

Keerthi Medicherla & Katherine Kelleher

Sanctuary and Civil Initiative: Challenging State Sovereignty Through Two Types of “Higher Law”

Lydia McvVeigh

Inside the 1953 Iran Coup: How Communism, the Cold War, and oil impacted the CIA’s use of covert action

Brooke Alexander

Community Policing in Madhya Pradesh, India: A Case Study of Philosophy and Practice

Eli Smolen

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Editorial Staff Editor-in-Chief

Manaal Khwaja

Co-Managing Editor

Ben Gustafson

Co-Managing Editor

Emily Ma

Production Chair

Nicole Luz

Media Manager

Priya Viswanathan

Event Coordinator

Anna Bickley

Special Projects

Matt Heller

Editing Staff

Lara Arif

Maya Nir

Sukanya Barman

Carina Ritcheson

Jeanette Hosmer

Catie Claire Smith

Tristan Guarnieri

Elisabeth Tamte

Akshi Kalavakonda

Nick Wells

Jack Massingill

Aria Zareibidgoli

Information About the Virginia Journal The Virginia Journal of International Affairs is the University of Virginia’s preeminent publication for undergraduate research in international relations. The Virginia Journal is developed and distributed by the studentrun International Relations Organization of the University of Virginia. The Virginia Journal is one of the only undergraduate research journals for international relations in the country, and aims both to showcase the impressive research conducted by the students at UVA and to spark productive conversation within the University community. The Virginia Journal seeks to foster interest in international issues and promote high quality undergraduate research in foreign affairs. The Journal is available online at vajournalia.org.

Submissions Interested in submitting to the Virginia Journal? The Journal seeks research papers on current topics in international affairs that are at least ten pages in length. Only undergraduates or recent graduates are eligible to submit. Submissions should be sent to thewilsonjournal@gmail.com.

Contact Please direct all comments to thewilsonjournal@gmail.com

From the Editor Dear reader, In my previous letter, I addressed the difficulties brought on by the pandemic and the history of racial injustice that plagues our world. The pandemic and racial injustice have not gone away, rather the issues raised by these conditions undoubtedly persist today amongst many others. Although the pandemic overshadows most international news, political disputes, social, and economic tensions all still continue. At home, the new presidency has the potential to redefine America’s relationship with the rest of the world and with itself. Political strife boils around the world, showing its face in various nations: In Myanmar, the coup has left the country in disarray; U.S. tensions with China are growing, leading many to highlight parallels between this situation and the Cold War; and Israel and Iran are increasingly butting heads. We can’t escape the tumultuous nature of international affairs, especially given that we are constantly bombarded with saddening and shocking news. However, this gives us the responsibility to pause and reflect upon the conditions of our world to shape our collective future on this planet. The Virginia Journal holds the privilege of allowing our readers time for such a reflection. With our curated collection of some of the finest research conducted by University of Virginia students, we offer a place for readers to further learn and investigate a wide range of topics. First, Madeline Halgren compares Japanese economic and American political strategies designed at promoting gender equality. Noah Strike analyzes the implications of international neutrality and argues for reframing our understanding of humanitarianism. Keerthi Medicherla and Katherine Kelleher examine the effects of media portrayal of tragic events upon an individual’s emotional response. Lydia McVeigh investigates how the Sanctuary Movement challenges state-nation sovereignty. Brooke Alexander provides a historical account of the 1953 Iran Coup, highlighting the CIA’s involvement. Finally, Eli Smolen examines community policing in Madhya Pradesh, India to investigate the congruence between philosophy and

practice. Akin to the previous semesters, these authors have allowed us to construct a collection of pieces that highlight diversity of thought within international affairs, extending our understanding of the world around us. It is an honor to leave the Journal to an incredible staff and an executive board. Their diligent, thoughtful work will continue the Journal’s mission and lead it to even greater success. I am immensely grateful for our editorial staff ’s dedication to publish this edition, even during these difficult times. The Journal could not succeed without the support of countless individuals, the International Relations Organization, and the University of Virginia. My sincerest gratitude also goes to professors and the authors who submit their work for publication. On behalf of this editorial team and the authors, thank you for taking the time to support our work.

Sincerely,

Manaal Khwaja Editor-in-Chief

Japan’s Womenomics Policy & American Identity Politics: How Female Equality Fares When a Feminist Agenda is used for a Higher Economic Purpose versus a Political Purpose By Madeline Halgren About the Author Madeline Halgren is a fourth year student at the University of Virginia graduating in the Spring of 2021. She is a Foreign Affairs major and a Leadership and Public Policy minor. She is interested in looking at comparative electoral systems and how they affect inclusivity of the electorate and subsequent policy issues. Outside of academics, Madeline is involved in multiple music ensembles at UVA including the University Singers and University Jazz Singers, a subsection of the Jazz Ensemble. She is also a member of Phi Sigma Pi, the Gender Inclusive Honor Fraternity. Originally from Omaha, Nebraska, she decided to move to Charlottesville for college and hopes to attend law school in the Fall of 2021. In her free time, she enjoys singing, playing guitar, reading, watching movies, and taking care of her foster cat, Otto. Foreword I’m happy to introduce Madeline Halgren’s essay examining how Japan’s conservative prime minister Shinzo Abe came to embrace a feminist agenda in an effort to stimulate economic growth. Madeline wrote the paper originally for my Fall 2020 class on Japanese Politics, which asked each student to write a research paper on an aspect of politics in the country. Whereas the subject of women in politics did not figure prominently when I taught this course in the past, I have found myself devoting more lectures and discussions

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to this topic in recent years as Japanese leaders have begun to worry that the absence of women in many fields – especially as managers in private firms – is preventing the economy from growing. Prime Minister Abe, who resigned in September as our class was starting to meet on zoom, had begun pushing firms to hire more women back in 2014, calling on the country to boost the proportion of women in “leadership roles” from about 13% to 30% by 2020. Madeline saw that the arrival of the target year and the end of Abe’s term made this an opportune time to look back and see if this goal was achieved. Her thoughtful paper, based on reading reports prepared by advocates and critics of the program and academic analysis in journal articles, helps you understand: 1) why Japanese conservatives took up this agenda; and 2) why they were not more successful. Len Schoppa Department of Politics University of Virginia Abstract Globally, women are still striving for equity in the workplace as well as other areas. Specifically in Japan, the economics policy known as Womenomics offers potential solutions to introduce more women into the workforce, however the policy has the ulterior motive of economic growth for the country. While this is a good thing for Japan, it’s utilization of a feminist agenda to popularize this policy leads to oversight in areas of female equality for many working-class women. Likewise, women in the United States still struggle for equality. I use a comparative analysis to see how the feminist agenda is utilized for economic purposes in Japan and for political purposes by the Democratic Party in the U.S. to examine which approach leaves women in a better position in society. After taking into account various cultural differences between the two countries, I argue that while both still have ways to go in terms of equality, the United States has given women the opportunity to move upwards in society, whereas Japan’s Womenomics struggles to target the heart of women’s workplace issues. Though women have come a long way in attaining the right to vote, accessing education, and steadily moving up in the workplace in both the

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United States and Japan, they still face oppression and unequal treatment. Policy does not always align with the real problems women are facing, rather government leadership utilizes women’s issues as a front for other areas of political and economic gain. Both the Democratic party in the United States and the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) in Japan have adopted feminist-like agendas and have chosen different methods of utilizing these agendas for national gain while turning a blind eye to the core steps towards equality for women in their respective countries. For the Democratic Party in the United States, this gain rests largely in garnering political support through identity politics from women to maintain power, whereas the LDP’s motivation is to invigorate the economy by empowering women to work. In using feminism as a tool, both countries miss the mark on areas of gender equality in areas of the workplace and at home. The question remains if the identity politics approach in the United States or the economic approach in Japan target the deeper issues of gender inequality. I argue that though both countries fall short, the Democratic party in the United States has gained some political power while making steady strides toward gender equality. Japan, however, still struggles economically, and its “Womenomics” policies have been ineffective in mending gender inequality. In the following pages I will outline the basic argument for Womenomics, the positives and negatives of the policy, and where it misses the mark on gender equality. Then, I will briefly explain how identity politics works in the Democratic Party, followed by its creation of winners and losers in the struggle for gender equality. Finally, I compare the two countries to see which approach has found the most success. “Women are Japan’s most underutilized resource” (Schieder 2014). Former Prime Minister of Japan Shinzo Abe of the LDP said these words in regards to his implementation of “Womenomics” policy, a subsection of his Abenomics plan to jump start Japan’s economy. The goal of Womenomics is to harness the female population to further economic growth. However, in Kathy Matsui’s (coiner of the term Womenomics) 2011 TED talk, the arguments for Womenomics were framed as policies that would offer greater freedoms to Japanese women rather than the economic benefits of getting women in the workforce (Schieder 2014). Even though the framing of Womenomics focuses on benefiting Japanese women’s quality of life, its central goal in some ways is contradictory, focusing on women as a tool for economic growth rather than individuals deserving of equality. The framing

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of Womenomics as a women’s rights issue illustrates the LDP’s utilization of feminist policy desires in order to reach a different goal. Though at its core Womenomics is an economic policy, and I have discussed how it is framed as a human rights issue rather than a direct policy aimed to help women in Japan, the ideas implemented by Womenomics have assisted women in alleviating household responsibilities and encouraging full-time employment. The highest percentage of women working in Japan are those in their mid to late 20s, however many of these women drop out of the workforce during their 30s due to having children (Matsui, Suzuki, Tatebe 2019). The cultural norm for women to stay home and take care of their households is a problem which Womenomics specifically targets. It does so through not only increasing the availability of childcare, but also putting pressure on cultural structures by encouraging men to take paternity leave, allowing women to remain at work. In some ways Womenomics has been a success. In 2016, the percent of women in the workforce rose to 76 percent (Shambaugh, Nunn, Portman 2017). Despite having more women in the workforce, Japan is still working on raising the number of women who return to work after having children. Women returning to work after their child bearing period rests on the expansion of childcare and men acquiring more responsibility at home. As of 2016, men only spent about one hour taking care of children and one hour on other chores (Matsui, Suzuki, Tatebe 2019). Luckily, Japan has been able to raise the proportion of men taking paternity leave to 13 percent as of 2020 (Matsui, Suzuki, Tatebe 2019). Even so, there are still significant strides to be made to make going to work easier for women. Overall, Womenomics has been successful in increasing available childcare, allowing for a year of paid parental leave for each parent, increasing female labor participation, and mandating equal pay for equal work. With the implementation of these policies women gained a more equal playing field in the workforce, and Japan was able to raise its GDP from 5.7 trillion US dollars in 2012 to 6.2 trillion US dollars in 2019 (The World Bank 2010). Despite Japan’s economic gains from Womenomics policies and small steps towards workplace equality, there are goals outlined within Womenomics that have not been reached. Additionally, there are populations of Japanese women who have been disregarded by the Japanese government in favor of working towards growing the economy. Another large piece of Womenomics policy is to get more women to work in managerial or other

Madeline Halgren

high-level positions. Former Prime Minister Abe set a target for women to occupy 30 percent of leadership roles by 2020 in his speech at the World Assembly for Women in 2014 (Shinzo 2014). The 30 percent threshold has not yet been met, and remains a section of Womenomics policy that continues to be unreachable despite efforts such as implementing leadership training programs for women and mid-life education programs for people to advance or change careers (Matsui, Suzuki, Tatebe 2019). Though at the surface level leadership and education programs for career advancement seem like a step in the right direction to advance women’s positions in the workplace, their details include certain contingencies that leave out a large portion of Japanese women from these opportunities. Abe’s policies appear to target Japanese women who are well-off and career oriented. In Japan, over half of the female labor force are “nonregular” workers. Non-regular workers often work part-time, do not have the same worker protections, and suffer a pay gap compared to regular workers. This becomes a problem as policies implemented to encourage companies to employ women or promote them to managerial positions often require the worker to be an “ordinary” (full-time) worker, and the non-regular workers are left out (Dalton 2011). The non-regular workers are often single mothers and women who need to provide an extra source of income for their families. The women who are career-oriented and hold “ordinary” positions are targeted by these policies and are given the ability to gain higher positions, but there is no effort to target the non-regular working women who could gain the most from the worker benefits given to those in positions of stability. Abe’s targeting of elite women and disregard for the majority lend support to my argument that Womenomics is about boosting the Japanese economy while being presented as a means to support women.

Even though the framing of Womenomics focuses on benefiting Japanese women’s quality of life, its central goal in some ways is contradictory, focusing on women as a tool for economic growth rather than individuals deserving of equality. As well as exacerbating a class divide, Womenomics highlights a cultural dilemma. Many women in Japan are comfortable within the

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housewife position, and feel as though the government’s goals of getting women to work to facilitate gender equality are misguided (Dalton 2017). Culturally, Japanese women are raised to take on the housewife role, and unlike Western countries many women do not desire to have their lives revolve around a career. Abe’s policy proves to be culturally out of touch with a portion of Japanese women, further illustrating that the policy is not directly meant to address women’s equality in Japan. My final argument for how the Japanese government utilizes Womenomics as a way to promote gender equality, but ultimately fails, is that Womenomics does not explicitly target workplace discrimination. Aside from the cultural values instilled in Japanese women, Amy Borovoy brings up a point in her article Not a Doll’s House that, “the home continues to be the surest sphere of women's validation in Japanese society, and a haven from the sexual objectification and gender discrimination that permeate the workplace and popular culture” (Borovay 2001). The women who desire to remain at home have good reasons for doing so, the workplace is often a volatile environment for a woman to be in. For so long work environments have been dominated by men and designed for men. When women enter positions traditionally held by men they are not equipped for the long work hours and also face harsh expectations and harassment. Workplace harassment exists at all levels of jobs. In a study from August 2019, women reported that in the workplace they are often insulted and called names (Belarmino, Roberts 2019). In upper-level government positions, women still face this kind of harassment. Matahara, a woman serving on a municipal board in Ogata, Japan, was denied a request to breastfeed at work and denied childcare. When she brought her child to work her male co-workers made her leave (Larmer 2018). Even female leaders of political parties like Ayaka Shiomara (Your Party) and Sayuri Uenishi ( Japan Restoration Party) have been attacked with statements such as “hurry up and have children” or “you should get married” when talking about policy issues related to the declining population (Schieder 2014). Aside from this harassment, women have expressed their concern for the standards they must meet in the workplace; most notably the #KuToo movement. A petition went viral in support of a law to bar employers from requiring women to wear heels at work. Many women expressed their displeasure with dress codes, especially heels, and how that had forced

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them to seek different jobs as they could not stand for such long hours without getting physically hurt. They argued this was a form of workplace discrimination, as there is no equivalent dress code for men and was imposing a feminine standard (Ueno, Victor 2019). Women in Japan face high levels of workplace discrimination and harassment making it hard for women to get promotions, and making careers seem unappealing. For Japan to truly address gender inequality, harassment and discrimination must be addressed. The widespread existence of workplace discrimination illustrates that Abe’s Womenomics policy is not addressing the real issues women face. These issues continue to persist, at the expense of women, for a chance at economic growth. Where Japan’s government capitalizes on the ideas of a feminist policy agenda for economic gain, the United States Democratic Party employs feminist empowerment through identity politics in order to garner political support and distract from areas of female inequality that go unaddressed. The use of identity politics is largely used in elections, government appointments, and to sensationalize women elected to office in the media. I would like to explain how and why an identity politics strategy is used by the Democratic party in elections and appointments. In America today, the Democratic party’s base covers a lot of identities across race, gender, and religion. To paraphrase Ezra Klein in his book, Why We’re Polarized, the diversity of the party base requires the Democratic party to appeal to many different identities and interests (Klein 2020). For example, the Democratic Party nominated Hillary Clinton as their Presidential candidate for the 2016 election. She was the first female candidate to be nominated for President. This not only was a huge historical moment, but an effort to get women inspired to vote for her. This effort started phrases like “I’m with Her,” “Nasty woman,” and “A Woman's Place is in the White House.” Similarly, in the 2020 election cycle, Joe Biden promised to nominate a woman of color as Vice President and subsequently chose Kamala Harris. Not only did this target women, but also members of the African American community. I do not mean to discredit these monumental achievements by the Democratic party; however, it is important to note that while glass ceilings are being cracked, there is a political motive for the Democratic party to engage women and women of color in their base to attain political power. In doing so, the party must address a myriad of issues for all groups which leads to cleavages

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(largely race in the United States) between those same groups, making identity politics inhibit the influence of a more unified identity. I will touch on how the use of identity politics has succeeded in the area of women’s rights, and address its failings in dividing women by race. While the umbrella of women’s rights in America is large, I want to focus on areas pertaining to women’s workplace issues, largely in the political sphere, for continuity of comparison with women in Japan. The use of identity politics has been successful in increasing the participation of women in politics. A study done by Colorado University and Notre Dame University found that, despite her loss, the mere choice of Hillary Clinton as the Democratic nominee in 2016 “served as a symbolic role model for women to think that they can [run for office] too” (Kuta 2020). In 2018, 23% of people running for Congress were women. They found that the best way to get more women in political office was to have more women in prominent political positions (Kuta 2020). This “role model” effect is a positive effect of identity politics on gender equality in the political arena. Another positive side effect of identity politics, once women are in office, is the impact on policy. At the University of Chicago, faculty found that more attention is brought to areas of women’s health and affordable child care (Sive 2018). Obviously identity politics' effect on getting women to run for office is not the only reason women do, but the connection should not be discredited. However, identity politics also leads to the separation of groups and limits collective goals. In Klein’s book he says, “as identities diverge, agendas diverge” (Klein 2020). For women, the divergence lies in class and race, however race is more prevalent. Historically, the second wave feminist movement in the United States was targeting the issues that white, middle class, and heterosexual women faced. For example, feminist icon Betty Friedan encouraged women in the 1970s to get out of the house and work, as women were limited to housewife positions. She ignored, however, that working class white women and women of color had held occupations for years (Heyes 2020). The argument here is, according to a Stanford University journal, that there is a “[failure] to recognize a specificity of their own constituencies” (Heyes 2020). In common terms feminism has been speaking for white women, not all women. Even in the past few years the women’s movement has come under fire for its lack of intersectionality; most notably during the Women’s March of 2017.

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After the election of Donald Trump, a white female organizer suggested a “Million Women’s March.” The idea went viral on social media, but eventually was criticized by many women of color as the “Million Women’s March” was a movement from 1997 where Black women responded to lack of representation in white-female led movements for equality (North 2018). The march changed its name to Women’s March following the backlash, though women of color were still critical of whether the organization spoke for all women. Even after the original controversy, the Women’s March faced allegations of anti-Semitism and still being a space for mainly white, cisgender women (North 2018). The separation of the female identity on racial grounds continues to perpetuate the idea that “identity reduces politics to who you are as an individual...rather than your membership in a collectivity and the collective struggle against an oppressive social structure” (Kumar 2018). So, while white women fight for rights they feel affect them like abortion rights and equal gender pay, they often leave out issues that Black women face, such as unemployment and maternal mortality (DuMonthier, Milli 2018). This is not to say that the former issues are unimportant, but the problems that Black women face take a backseat because they are not issues that white women face at extreme rates. According to James Monroe, a professor at Brown University, “identity politics keeps America healthy” (Morone 2020). He may be right; identity politics brings to light the concerns of different groups and new ideas. Eventually, when the goals of one group help them attain rights it benefits everyone. For example, if Black women advocate for better wages, as they earn 65% of what white men earn, if wages were to increase, they would also increase for white women, who earn 85% of what white men earn. Similar cases can be found for other issues Black women face, including maintaining their jobs. Black women are largely the breadwinners for their families, but women in America still take more time off or are more likely to quit their jobs than men (Parker, Funk 2020). Since Black families rely more on Black women for income, they advocate largely for policies like paid family leave; which would also benefit all women. So, identity politics brings forth the issues of Black women and illuminates that they are the issues of all women. The use of identity politics in the United States has its setbacks, but also brings important issues for Black women to the surface. Lastly, I want to include a quantitative comparison of women’s

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status in the United States and Japan. In the United States and Japan, female labor participation rates are both over 70 percent (Shambaugh et al 2017). However, the United States has more women in political positions. In Congress, 25 percent of Senators are women and 23 percent of Congresspersons are women (CAWP 2020). There are also three women on the Supreme Court, and the first ever female Vice President. In Japan, only 23 percent of Diet members are women (Statista 2020). About 40 percent of managerial positions are occupied by women in the U.S. and Japan has yet to reach its 30 percent goal, plateauing at 8 percent (Torpey 2017; Yuko 2020). In the workplace 53 percent of Black women have said they face a form of workplace discrimination compared to White women (of whom 40 percent say they face workplace discrimination) (Parker, Funk 2020). Though the racial difference does not exist for Japanese women, 47.5 percent complain of difficulty in moving up in the workplace (Roll 2020). Japanese women also face a larger pay gap of 24.5 percent, whereas the median salary for men in the United States is 19 percent higher than a woman’s. However, Black women make 35 percent less than men, faring worse than Japanese women (Patten 2020). Though there are ways to go in the area of race, statistically women in the United States are taking more strides toward gender equality. Through my analysis, identity politics has been a factor that has helped women’s issues be heard, albeit with setbacks for Black women. It is important to note that there may be a deeper cultural divide between the two countries. Japan has deeply ingrained gender norms, so some women in Japan are satisfied with their positions at home. Women in the United States are more driven to work due to a culture of independence in the U.S. The United States is also heterogeneous racially, making the goals of women very different across these lines. Japan is homogeneous, and a cleavage between races in terms of women’s rights is not an issue they face. Overall, the Democratic Party’s use of identity politics allows them to target groups of voters to maintain power and inspires women to engage in politics, but the popularization of identity politics has led to women to divide based on race, often leaving Black women out of the conversation on gender equality. Statistically, women in America have attained more equality despite the lack of equal pay and Black women facing higher levels of workplace discrimination. In Japan, the Abe administration has increased the percentage of women in the workforce, but the Womenomics policy leaves out middle

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class women and fails to address real concerns that keep women from having certain careers due to restrictions from programs based on job status and gender harassment in upper-level positions. There is more work to be done in both countries, but women in the United States have made steady gains in gender equality. The Democratic Party’s popularization of identity politics has brought to light important problems facing Black women, and has also led more women to run for political office, whereas Japan has ignored the needs of working-class women and those seeking stable careers.

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2020. Kumar, Rashmee “How Identity Politics Has Divided the Left: An Interview With Asad Haider,” The Intercept, May 27, 2018, https:// theintercept.com/2018/05/27/identity-politics-book-asad-haider/. Kuta, Sarah “Women Who Run for Office Inspire Others to Do the Same, Study Suggests,” Colorado Arts and Sciences Magazine, April 22, 2020, https://www.colorado.edu/asmagazine/2018/07/31/womenwho-run-office-inspire-others-do-same-study-suggests. Larmer, Brook. “Why Does Japan Make It So Hard for Working Women to Succeed?” The New York Times. The New York Times, October 17, 2018. https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/17/magazine/why-doesjapan-make-it-so-hard-for-working-women-to-succeed.html. Matsui, K. Suzuki, H. Tatebe, K. Womenomics 5.0. PDF file. April 18, 2019. https://www.goldmansachs.com/insights/pages/womenomics-5.0/ multimedia/womenomics-5.0-report.pdf Morone, James “Perspective | Identity Politics Keeps American Society Healthy,” The Washington Post (WP Company, November 1, 2020), https://www.washingtonpost.com/outlook/2020/11/02/identitypolitics-american-electoral-tradition/. North, Anna “The Women's March Changed the American Left. Now Anti-Semitism Allegations Threaten the Group's Future.,” Vox (Vox, December 21, 2018), https://www.vox.com/ identities/2018/12/21/18145176/feminism-womens-march-20182019-farrakhan-intersectionality. Nunn, Ryan, Portman, Becca, Shambaugh, Josh “Lessons from the Rise of Women's Labor Force Participation in Japan,” Brookings (Brookings, November 1, 2017), https://www.brookings. edu/research/lessons-from-the-rise-of-womens-labor-forceparticipation-in-japan/. Patten, Eileen “Racial, Gender Wage Gaps Persist in U.S. despite Some Progress,” Pew Research Center (Pew Research Center, August 14, 2020), https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2016/07/01/racialgender-wage-gaps-persist-in-u-s-despite-some-progress/. Roll, Dale “Survey Says More than 70% of Japanese People Think Gender Inequality Exists in Japan,” Japan Today, accessed December 3, 2020, https://japantoday.com/category/features/lifestyle/survey-says-more-

than-70-of-japanese-people-think-gender-inequality-exists-injapan. Schieder, Chelsea “Womenomics vs. Women: Neoliberal Cooptation of Feminism in Japan,” Meiji Journal of Political Science and Economics, 2014. Sive, Rebecca“How 'Year of the Woman' in Congress Could Impact Future of Public Policy,” University of Chicago News, accessed December 3, 2020, https://news.uchicago.edu/story/how-year-woman-congresscould-impact-future-public-policy. The World Bank. “GDP (Constant 2010 US$) - Japan.” Data. Accessed October 26, 2020. https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/NY.GDP. MKTP.KD?locations=JP. Torpey, Elka “Women in Management: Career Outlook,” U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics (U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics), accessed December 3, 2020, https://www.bls.gov/careeroutlook/2017/dataon-display/women-managers.htm., Ueno, Hisako, and Daniel Victor. “Japanese Women Want a Law Against Mandatory Heels at Work.” The New York Times. The New York Times, June 4, 2019. https://www.nytimes.com/2019/06/04/world/ asia/japan-high-heels.html. Yuko, Tatsuhiro “Japan Women Hold 8% of Manager Jobs, Far from 2020 Goal of 30%,” Nikkei Asia (Nikkei Asia, August 18, 2020), https:// asia.nikkei.com/Business/Business-trends/Japan-women-hold-8-ofmanager-jobs-far-from-2020-goal-of-30.

Rejecting Neutrality: Advancing the Politics of Humanitarian Solidarity By Noah Strike

About the Author Noah Strike is a third-year undergraduate student at the University of Virginia pursuing a Bachelor of Arts in Government and Women, Gender, and Sexuality. His academic areas of interest include the politics of emergencies, humanitarian neutrality and solidarity, and state violence against sexual- and gender-diverse refugees and asylum seekers. In 2019, Noah conducted research with Dr. Adrienne Ghaly of the UVA Humanitarian Collaborative and on behalf of the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs to study the potential use of fiction literature in consciousness-raising humanitarian advocacy campaigns. Noah will begin an accelerated Masters of Public Policy program at the University of Virginia Batten School of Leadership and Public Policy in the fall of 2021. Foreword “Rejecting Neutrality: Advancing the Politics of Humanitarian Solidarity” is a highly revised version of a paper that Noah Strike originally wrote for my “Global Politics and Ethics” class in fall 2020 (it is also informed by another class Mr. Strike took with me, Politics of Emergencies, in spring 2020). In the former class, we examined how political and ethical approaches to large-scale issues sometimes obscure one another. One context in which this happens is humanitarian aid provided by Western-based NGOs working the classical or “Dunantist” tradition of the International Committee of the Red Cross. As Mr. Strike notes in his article, this form of humanitarianism is characterized by a principle of “neutrality” which— because humanitarian organizations operate in highly politicized contexts—sometimes has perverse effects. Mr. Strike vehemently rejects the neutrality principle, arguing that NGOs responding to what he calls “complex emergencies” should instead “practice solidarity - observing the objectivity of human rights, standing

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accountable to the affected populations they serve, assuming equal risk with these populations, and finally engaging in active political projects to further the human rights of these populations.” I deeply appreciate how Mr. Strike not only takes up an extremely important topic and argues forcefully for his position, but also gives empirical examples that illustrate his proposals and acknowledges potential limitations of his argument. Professor Jennifer Rubenstein Department of Politics University of Virginia Abstract This article criticizes the classical humanitarian’s imperative of neutrality in response to complex, or politically motivated, emergencies. Neutrality in humanitarian praxis leads to band-aid solutions hastily slapped onto crises, rather than meaningful systemic change or challenges to the neoliberal world order which causes the crises in the first place. I argue for a paradigm shift in humanitarian practice. Away from neutrality and towards solidarity, humanitarians must be political in their intentions and effects. I provide the examples of Norwegian People’s Aid (NPA) and Citizen Initiatives for Global Solidarity (CIGS) as foundational frameworks for humanitarian solidarity. Lastly, I argue an NGO duty of external justice—that is, a duty to the people they serve - requires organizations to adopt solidary frameworks. I end by positing that social movement theory may be useful for future analysis of solidary humanitarianism. Introduction Humanitarian neutrality traces its origins back to the advent of classical humanitarianism, where some of the first humanitarian nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) decidedly rejected political association, embraced the foundation of ‘common humanity’ in their work, and represented themselves as alleviating acute, immediate suffering independent of state actors, governments, and intergovernmental organizations (IGOs). This conscious rejection of politics was seen as useful in humanitarian practice for multiple reasons, as Baughan and Fiori argue: Humanitarians dedicate great energy to warding off political associa-

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tion for fear that it might undermine their moral authority and discredit them in the eyes of the people and the institutions that underwrite their activities or of those who would deny them access to suffering populations at the first hint of disruption to their own political agendas. (Baughan and Fiori 2015, 135) Neutrality and the embrace of common humanity allowed NGOs to declare a higher moral authority over states and state actors, who were perceived as entrenched in the partisan battles of politics, and thus less mindful of alleviating acute suffering. The adherence to neutrality was thought to promote access to populations in need of support. As NGOs must be approved to enter sovereign territory, it is argued that neutrality in politics would increase the chances a government would permit NGO activities. Neutrality, however, yields a number of problems in humanitarian work, as Baughan and Fiori articulate: An essentialist conception of humanity...has allowed for a depoliticization of humanitarian discourse, facilitating the globalization of the distinctly Western value system from which the humanitarian project emerges, leaving unchallenged forms of oppression that this system and others might engender, and masking the controls that exist in the relationship between Western humanitarian agencies and the crisis-affected populations that they seek to support. (Baughan and Fiori 2015, 130) Neutrality—the depoliticization of humanitarianism —both globalizes a Western value system and fails to challenge the interlocking systems of oppression which cause many humanitarian crises in the first place. Tankred Stobe, the former president of the German division of Doctors Without Borders (MSF), offers a more succinct analysis of the issues raised by neutrality, saying, “We name the problem but not the guilty, and do not provide an approach to solve the crisis” (Foth 2020, 6). Humanitarian neutrality’s failure to challenge the underlying conditions or systemic issues that prompt humanitarian emergencies, and its frequent resolution in ethically repugnant ends means that neutrality ought to be rejected. Instead, humanitarianism should (re)construct and (re)orient itself towards a politics of solidarity, encompassing not only the objectivity of human rights and accountability to the affected populations they serve, but also shared risk and conscious politicized actions.

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Neutrality in Practice: Humanitarian Emergencies Neutral humanitarianism predicates its efforts on claims of emergency, especially with regard to NGO responses. Claims of emergency determine if, how, where, when, and to what extent humanitarian actors respond, and thus must be critically examined. Both the conception and types of emergencies must be defined. Foth writes on NGOs working against the opioid emergency in Canada, and argues “[NGOization] is a universalism of the temporal present without any universal promise for a better future or the amelioration of human conditions - it is a humanitarianism of emergency” (Foth 2020, 1). This “humanitarianism of emergency” refers to the bandaid responses of most neutral humanitarian actors; the aim of neutral humanitarianism is not to solve underlying conditions or root causes of emergencies, but rather to alleviate the symptoms of them. These symptoms manifest as the emergency; mass migration, for example, is a symptom of another problem. In this context, neutrality is said to grant humanitarian actors increased access to affected populations, especially where non-neutral actors would be denied (e.g., a pro-democracy NGO being barred from entry into an authoritarian state). While this line of thinking is appropriate in instances of simple emergencies (unforeseen, natural disaster), complex emergencies (somewhat predictable with multiple, man-made or political causes) require different approaches. Simple and complex emergencies are often conflated or arbitrarily defined in humanitarian practice. This stems from an assumption of classical humanitarianism; that governments are always in control or properly functioning, that they are not at fault for the cause or harm of the humanitarian emergency, and that they are readily cooperating with humanitarian actors (Seybolt, 1996). This assumption is the reason why neutrality has become the default for complex emergencies, which themselves become more numerous and salient as globalization continues. Simple and complex emergencies must be distinguished from one another, however, because the normative favorability of humanitarian neutrality depends on which type of emergency—simple or complex—has arisen. Neutrality in response to simple emergencies is both strategically possible and ethically desirable; NGOs should respond based solely on need, and not engage with domestic politics or disrupt state sovereignty. The humanitarian response to a typhoon impacting the Philippines, an example of a simple emergency, should

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not prioritize Christians over other religious groups, urban populations over rural ones, etc. The response must be calibrated only to aid, and does not necessarily require political stances or engagement. Neutrality in complex emergencies, however, is not only ethically undesirable, but strategically impossible. The moral undesirability of neutrality in complex emergencies results from two effects of its practice: 1) neutral humanitarianism does little to solve the underlying and often unjust conditions or systemic issues creating the complex emergency; and 2) in cases of massive violations of human rights (e.g., crimes against humanity, genocide) it is a major contributing factor in the failure of international responses. Whereas simple emergencies are often the result of a single, unexpected or unpredictable event, underlying conditions cause complex emergencies. Baughan and Fiori discuss this causal relationship, “In holding fast to the principle of neutrality and refusing to speak out against the British [sanctions] towards Russia, Save the Children privileged the short-term alleviation of starvation above the long-term prevention of food shortages in Russia” (Baughan and Fiori 2015, 134). The complex emergency of food shortages in Russia, which caused the starvation Save the Children worked to combat, was directly the result of British sanctions. Save the Children’s refusal to oppose the sanctions in an effort to remain neutral did not address the underlying condition causing suffering, and future suffering remained equally likely despite their intervention. Neutrality promotes these band-aid solutions over changes to unjust underlying conditions that would prevent future food shortages, and is ethically undesirable as a result. In addition to passivity in the face of unjust underlying conditions, neutrality leads to ethically repugnant ends in the context of massive violations of international human rights law. Complex emergencies in Rwanda and Sudan, and the delayed or misguided responses of IGOs and NGOs, illustrate how a default of neutrality leads to such ends. Storey, writing of the NGO response in Rwanda, argues that self-imposed neutrality aided the genocidal regime: Some NGOs (as well as official donors, such as the UN agencies) lent support to the forces of the deposed genocidal regime...made manifest in the following ways: the choice of where to work; the type of support offered and the structures and people with whom the NGOs worked; and public

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statements made by NGO representatives. (Storey 1997, 386) NGOs engaging in neutrality in Rwanda, in an effort to gain access to affected populations, assisted the genocidal regime and unintentionally supported its efforts. This is not only counterproductive to the NGOs’ efforts, but ethically repugnant; their involvement worsened the suffering. A similar theme is observed in the stunted IGO response to a complex emergency in Sudan. Udombana argues: In the context of a military counterinsurgency campaign againt rebel groups, the government of Sudan and government-backed militas have commited grave international crimes - genocide, ethnic cleansing, war crimes, and crimes against humanity - in Darfur to justify humanitarian military intervention. (Udombana 2005, 1151) Despite clear violations of international human rights law, enough to necessitate an international authority intervening, IGO debates over sovereignty and neutrality caused months-long delays in deployment. Genocide in Darfur, as a result, continued mostly unabated. A humanitarian value system which does little to alter unjust underlying conditions, thus little to prevent future emergencies, and demonstratively (though inadvertently) leads to a continuity of suffering that cannot be considered ethically desirable. The possibility of humanitarian neutral itself—its existence and strategic practicality—is itself even questionable. Neutrality claims to be an absence of politics—to treat all sides equally, and focus solely on alleviating acute suffering rather than take stances or further agendas. This is a misunderstanding of humanitarian action. Humanitarian acts in complex emergencies are inherently political, as Seybolt argues: Neutrality cannot be maintained in complex emergencies; it is irresponsible to pretend otherwise. Complex emergencies are wars. They are... often intentionally created, violent situations where at least two sides seek incompatible ends. Any significant action on the ground by an outside party in a highly charged political environment will affect the outcome, even if humanitarian...Humanitarian action is not neutral. (Seybolt 1996, np) Returning to the example of Save the Children and British sanctions— combating hunger in Russia is inherently political. Sanctions are designed to weaken the opponent; food shortages are their intended effect. By providing resources to affected Russian populations, Save the Children directly

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interfered in the political act of the British and countered its intended effect, thus preserving some degree of Russian power or influence that would have otherwise been lost. NGOs intervening in such cases, even though they may fly the banner of neutrality, are engaging in a political act by providing aid, as they interfere with the political agenda of at least one side. The dominant understanding of humanitarian neutrality is that the access to affected populations granted by neutral positions outweighs bandaid solutions and ethically repugnant ends. This is outdated and misoriented; while access remains the imperative, it can be achieved through alternate means, and the harms of neutrality far outweigh the benefits. Even the central claim that neutrality promotes access can and must be called into question. As Baughan and Fiori keenly note: “There never was a ‘golden age’ in which widespread acceptance of the political neutrality of humanitarian action ensured that international humanitarian agendas could gain unrestricted access to all crisis-affected populations.” (Baughan and Fiori 2015, 136) Continued band-aid solutions, while alleviating immediate suffering, do nothing to prevent longer-term suffering or promote justice. The imperative of neutrality cannot be considered ethically desirable when placed in the historical contexts of humanitarian failures in Rwanda in 1994 and Sudan in 2005. If neutrality in humanitarianism does little to prevent future suffering, has demonstrated quite salient failures in Rwanda and Sudan, is technically impossible to practice, and has never fully worked as intended, it ought to be rejected. Humanitarian Solidarity & Solidary Practice The demonstrated undesirability of humanitarian neutrality begs the question of what value(s) humanitarian practitioners ought to practice; if not neutrality, then what? Baughan and Fiori identify two relatively immediate tasks for Western NGOs, saying, “The first task is to embed an understanding of the political...[that] values and norms are socially constructed and contestable. The second task, then, is to embrace a certain kind of politics...a set of practices and institutions through which order is created.” (Baughan and Fiori 2015, 137) The first task, in other words, is for NGOs to understand that the current hegemony of neutrality is a choice, not an imposition. Neutrality is not an omnipresent and unquestionable imperative; it was constructed and as such can be deconstructed. The second and more

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important task is a (re)construction and (re)orientation of the system of international humanitarian aid; it must embrace justice over neutrality, and active politics over feigned apoliticism. Humanitarianism must embrace solidarity as its core principle. The opposite of neutrality, solidarity understands politics as embedded in all facets of the globalized world, and necessitates cooperation with, and direct political support of, crisis-affected or oppressed populations. Baughan and Fiori argue for the embrace of solidarity, saying that “Since power is relational, empowerment of the marginalized can be brought about only by a counterhegemonic practice that resists or opposes the existing social order and seeks to recreate it in its favor.” (Baughan and Fiori 2015, 138) It is because of the interconnectedness of the modern world that solidarity becomes the only path forward for humanitarianism—not just in terms of alleviating immediate acute suffering, but in terms of correcting systemic injustices that prolong or make more frequent complex emergencies. As Baughan and Fiori argue, this requires counter-hegemonic practice that reconstructs the sociopolitical order conducive to complex emergencies; this is solidarity. Solidarity in humanitarian practice can manifest in a variety of ways, yet it maintains a few indicative elements. Citing the work of the NGO African Rights in Humanitarianism Unbound, Slim identifies these fundamental principles: 1: Human rights objectivity and the pursuit of justice. This means a commitment to pursuing an agenda based on a set of rights. 2: Consultation with and accountability to the people with whom solidarity is expressed. 3: Shared risk and suffering with the people. 4: Concrete action in support of the people and their cause. This may include providing relief and/or political or human rights lobbying and advocacy. (Slim 1997, 349) Points one and two have become increasingly accepted under the current construction of humanitarianism in the last few decades. NGOs increasingly turn to impartiality (especially human rights objectivity) over neutrality, and aim to integrate community consultation and accountability in their work. Both of these moves are to ensure justice within the system of international humanitarian aid. Points three and four, however, distinguish between a quasi-solidarity and a true solidarity. They are likely to prompt uneasiness in classical humanitarians; shared risk and suffering being perceived as

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unnecessary or counterproductive, and political lobbying as an existential threat to the imperative of access. These concerns are not unwarranted, but can be easily addressed. Multiple humanitarian actors have already made the shift to solidarity, laying a useful foundation for scaling by larger and more institutionalized humanitarian organizations. Most notably, Citizen Initiatives for Global Solidarity (CIGS) and Norwegian People’s Aid (NPA) both adopted a politics of solidarity in the work—the former at a local/regional level, and the latter at an international level. CIGS are local/regional projects, initiatives, or small organizations seeking to promote solidarity in their local communities. They take many shapes; a local nonprofit dedicated to the support for a community integration of recently resettled refugees, a group of businesses that set up infrastructure for donating school supplies to conflict areas, and a group of high school students forming an after-school club for writing to local legislators in support of policies of solidarity are all examples. They vary in size, shape, scope and ability, but in each circumstance, the privileged use their power or redistribute their resources in ways that promote solidarity. They are not necessarily structural or coordinated efforts, but this allows an increased flexibility in their work; they are not beholden to donors, stakeholders, or other third-party interests. Haaland and Wallevik describe CIGS as “evolving partly in response to the bureaucratization of aid, where there is limited room for the active involvement of ordinary citizens. Individual’s efforts to start their own initiatives can thus be interpreted as an act of resistance towards the aid machinery” (Haaland and Wallevik 2019, 1877). These initiatives are solidary because they use power in counterhegemonic ways—as to resist humanitarian neutrality—and because they take specific political stances in humanitarian emergencies. CIGS offer a useful foundation for the larger-scale humanitarian project; they demonstrate how NGOs can devolve their power from central, transnational headquarters into local communities, and how they can engage in small-scale political acts which promote systemic change. Norwegian People’s Aid, the Norwegian Labor Movement’s “humanitarian solidarity organization,” provides a larger-scale example of solidarity in humanitarian practice. Eva Bjoreng, Former Secretary-General of NPA, describes NPA as “independent, but not neutral and impartial; instead, its work is grounded in the idea of solidarity with the people it

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helps...To respond properly, it is important to analyze the political and social factors behind suffering, and to understand the impact of assistance” (Bjoreng 2003, 9). NPA has undertaken the tasks outlined by Baughan and Fiori. It understands power as relational, and adopts a politics focused on understanding and fighting unjust underlying conditions and systemic issues. It does not propose the temporary band-aid solutions of classical humanitarianism, but aims to dismantle and rebuild oppressive systems and institutions, importantly working alongside and supporting the affected populations. Bjoreng details NPA’s solidarity with the Kurds in Iraq: NPA clearly states its support for the Kurdish cause, and their democratic struggle to achieve rights as a people and to create democracy in Iraq. This position was made known to all NPA partners and local authorities in the area, and it was probably also known to the regime in Baghdad. By adopting this political basis, NPA was excluded from providing humanitarian assistance in any other part of Iraq so long as the regime was in power - it would not have been allowed to do so, and it would have been dangerous to try. (Bjoreng 2003, 10) NPA in this case fulfills the third and fourth points of Slim’s principles of solidarity; it assumes equal risk with the population it serves, and it concretely supports the Kurds’ pro-democracy cause. As suspected, NPA lost access to the regime-controlled areas of Iraq. Despite this, solidarity is still more ethically desirable than neutrality as it hopes to not only alleviate immediate suffering, but to prevent future suffering. While loss of access is likely inevitable, other means may counter it. Embracing solidarity depoliticizes humanitarianism in complex emergencies and inevitably results in a loss of access to affected populations. In classical humanitarian practice, this loss of access would render the discourse of solidarity dead-on-arrival. Just as neutrality is socially constructed and contestable, however, so is access. Not to say that access should not be the ultimate imperative—it should, but rather to say that the means to achieve access can be questioned. Classical access is voluntary; a state government voluntarily admits NGOs into its territory and allows them to undertake humanitarian work. While the United Nations does retain the power to deploy interventionary or preemptive humanitarian forces, this humanitarian military intervention (HMI; vis-a-vis Udombana) is rarely or inconsistently invoked. While it has happened in the past, the structural

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makeup of the Security Council and the veto power of permanent members often prevents HMI in complex emergencies, doubling as microcosms for broader global power standoffs (e.g. Israel/Palestine, Syria). Directly related, these complex emergencies are oftentimes sites of the worst suffering. Ideally, the suffering in these areas would override any permanent member’s selfinterest in the conflicts; practically, and more importantly, historically, it has not. In this way, the current construction of the UN restricts the ability of NGOs (and some IGOs) to practice solidarity in humanitarianism. As there is no “access safety net” from the UN, NGOs hesitate to shift to solidarity in rightful fear of losing access to affected populations. It is for this reason that humanitarian solidarity cannot happen overnight or independently. It must be an incremental movement—a back-and-forth between IGOs and NGOs, in which reformed IGO systems more easily guarantee HMI as a last-resort. NGOs are thus more readily able to politicize themselves and adopt solidary practices, knowing that a solid ‘plan b’ exists. Humanitarian NGOs’ Duties of (External) Justice It has become increasingly accepted over the last two decades that humanitarian NGOs hold limited duties of justice internal to the system of international humanitarian aid. NGOs must work to prevent corruption, ensure fair distribution of resources, strive for operational independence from state actors, and so on. Rubenstein, arguing for this, writes: The system of international humanitarian aid is itself an institutional social structure, [which] in the course of providing humanitarian aid... NGOs help to create, sustain, and benefit from...and therefore, they have (limited) duties to justice to help make this structure just. (2009, 525) Rubenstein argues that because humanitarian NGOs create, sustain, and benefit from the system of international humanitarian aid (that is, aid supply chains and distribution, state/IGO relationships, etc.), they have a duty to make this system just. In practice, this includes ensuring that aid is distributed fairly on the basis of need and without quid pro quo influence, or working to maintain independence from state influence, etc. Regardless of the normative favorability of humanitarian solidarity, it is unclear whether humanitarian NGOs have a duty to be solidary.

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As all humanitarian action in complex emergencies is political, it becomes the duty of the NGOs involved to ensure the root of the emergency is addressed, not just the symptoms... Humanitarian NGOs not only have a duty to ensure their intrasystemic actions (aid distribution, state relationships) are just, but have a duty to ensure their intersystemic actions promote justice. Humanitarian NGOs do retain a duty to external justice—meaning their work must ensure justice in socioeconomic or political systems external to themselves. I extend Rubenstein’s argument in order to demonstrate this duty of external justice, and base the argument for external duties of justice on two bases of humanitarian work: 1) if a purpose of humanitarian practice is to end an emergency, work is not complete until the root of the emergency is addressed, and 2) solidarity and justice are inextricable from humanitarianism’s founding principle of humanity. While classical humanitarians would argue these points fall under the purview of human rights NGOs, this traditional division of labor breaks down and merges as politics becomes increasingly implicated in humanitarian work. The reorientation to what counts as political action is enough to erode the division of labor, regardless of whether or not solidarity is being practiced. As all humanitarian action in complex emergencies is political, it becomes the duty of the NGOs involved to ensure the root of the emergency is addressed, not just the symptoms. Moreover, as humanity and justice are inextricable from one another, it becomes a duty of humanitarian NGOs to practice solidarity. In brief, humanitarian NGOs not only have a duty to ensure their intrasystemic actions (aid distribution, state relationships) are just, but have a duty to ensure their intersystemic actions promote justice. The ‘emergencies’ of humanitarianism cannot be considered ‘solved’ until their root causes are addressed, and solidarity and justice themselves are inextricable from humanitarianism’s guiding principle of humanity. Conclusions and Unresolved Questions Humanitarian neutrality’s failure to challenge the underlying conditions behind humanitarian emergencies, its conduciveness to ethically

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repugnant ends, its technical impossibility, and its historical inadequacy all lead to the conclusion that humanitarian practitioners would be right to reject neutrality in their work. Humanitarianism is inherently political; it is counterproductive to the humanitarian project for practitioners to dig their heads in the sand, ignoring or denying this. Instead, they ought to practice solidarity - observing the objectivity of human rights, standing accountable to the affected populations they serve, assuming equal risk with these populations, and finally engaging in active political projects to further the human rights of these populations. CIGS and NPA demonstrate how this is possible at any scale - local, regional, national, or international. Not only is solidarity ethically desirable in humanitarian work, but humanitarian NGOs have a duty to practice solidarity. The work of NGOs is not complete until the root cause of a complex emergency is addressed - which requires political action - and the principles of solidarity and justice are inextricable from humanitarianism’s founding principle of humanity. Unresolved questions remain, and some assumptions of this paper require more critical interrogation: 1) the question of IGOs’ responses to the inevitable loss of solidary NGOs’ access to affected populations, 2) the question of neocolonialism disguised as solidarity, 3) the assumption that a differentiation between simple and complex emergencies is possible, and 4) the assumption (and conception of ) that international humanitarian aid is systemic and static. The first question raised, as with NPA, concerns how solidary NGOs will lose access to affected populations. While the UN retains the power to deploy humanitarian intervention-based or preemptive forces, it is difficult and rare to do so. This raises the question of how the UN (and other IGOs, such as the African or European Unions) can reform themselves to make such deployments easier and more consistent, while maintaining them as a last resort. The second question explores how claims of solidarity with affected populations can mask neocolonialism. For example, many American Evangelical Christian “humanitarian” NGOs claim to practice solidarity with marginalized populations in sub-Saharan Africa by sending supplies, volunteers (missionaries), building infrastructure, etc. The spread of Western religious value systems, however, is their subversive purpose—as is the case in Uganda, where Evangelical groups successfully lobbied harsh antigay laws to the government. This is not solidarity—this is neocolonialism. Humanitarian NGOs must be steadfast in ensuring they are working with

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and under the direction of the populations they serve—not the other way around. The two assumptions of the paper merit further interrogation. First, the paper assumes simple and complex emergencies both exist and are distinguishable from one another. While complex emergencies certainly exist, the existence of simple emergencies—specifically in the context of globalization—is less certain. Under the definition provided in this paper, the 2010 Haiti earthquake would be considered a simple emergency. A single unpredictable event was not directly the fault of any state actor, nor was it the result of political conflict. It is naive, however, to argue that the historical legacies of colonialism and the non-consensual relocation of Haiti’s innate wealth and resources to its colonial occupier did not play a role in the effects of the earthquake. The Haitian government’s lack of preparedness is not its own fault, but rather the result of centuries of colonialism and exploitation. The political acts of colonialism and exploitation are then implicated in the 2010 earthquake. Does this make it a complex emergency? What are the implications in humanitarianism and solidarity of viewing the earthquake as a complex emergency? Are European colonial powers more responsible for supporting the international community’s response than non-European, noncolonial powers? The second assumption (conception) deserving further interrogation is that the system of international humanitarian aid is static. In other words, while it works to respond to emergencies around the world, it does not prompt social movement. Again, classical humanitarians would argue social movement is the task of human rights NGOs. But as argued earlier, this division of labor breaks down as politics is universally implicated. Should we then conceive of the system of international humanitarian aid as a social movement, along the lines of Black Lives Matter, Boycott/Divestment/ Sanctions, or the Youth Climate Movement, which is working to solidify and expand human rights globally? This question is being actively studied; the University of Bath plans to release results on a study investigating European humanitarian responses to the refugee crisis as a social movement in early 2021. Further research is necessary, but the doors opened by reframing humanitarianism as a social movement are quite intriguing.

Bibliography Baughan, Emily and Fiori, Juliano. “Save the Children, the humanitarian project, and the politics of solidarity: reviving Dorothy Buxton’s vision.” Disasters, vol. 39, no. 2, 2015, 129-145. Wiley & Sons, doi:10.1111/disa.12151. Bjoreng, Eva. “Taking a stand: solidarity and neutrality in humanitarian action.” Humanitarian Exchange, no. 25, Dec. 2003, 9-11. Humanitarian Practice Network, https://reliefweb.int/report/world/ humanitarian-exchange-magazine-no-25-neutrality. Foth, Thomas. “Humanitarian reason and the movement for overdose prevention sites: The NGOization of the Opioid ‘Crisis’.” Nursing Philosophy, July 2020, 1-12. Wiley & Sons, doi:10.1111/nup.12324. Haaland, Hanne and Wallevik, Hege. “Beyond crisis management? The role of Citizen Initiatives for Global Solidarity in humanitarian aid: the case of Lesvos.” Third World Quarterly, vol. 40, no. 10, Sep. 2019, 1869-1883. Taylor & Francis Online, https://www.tandfonline.com/ loi/ctwq20. Rubenstein, Jennifer. “Humanitarian NGOs’ Duties of Justice.” Journal of Social Philosophy, vol. 40, no. 4, Winter 2009, 524-541. Wiley & Sons, https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-9833.2009.01469.x. Seybolt, Taylor. “The myth of neutrality.” Peace Review, vol. 8, no. 4, Dec. 1996, 521. EBSCO, doi:10.1080/10402659608426005. Slim, Hugo. “Relief Agencies and Moral Standing in War: Principles of Humanity, Neutrality, Impartiality and Solidarity.” Development in Practice, vol. 7, no. 4, Nov. 1997, 342-352. JSTOR, http://www.jstor. com/stable/4029000. Storey, Andy. “Non-Neutral Humanitarianism: NGOs and the Rwanda Crisis.” Development in Practice, vol. 7, no. 4, Nov. 1997, 384-394. JSTOR, https://www.jstor.org/stable/4029004. Udombana, Nsongurua J. “When Neutrality is a Sin: The Darfur Crisis and the Crisis of Humanitarian Intervention in Sudan.” Human Rights Quarterly, vol. 27, no. 4, Nov. 2005, 1149-1199. Project Muse, https://doi.org/10.1353/hrq.2005.0055. https://www.ifrc.org/en/what-we-do/disaster-management/about-disasters/ definition-of-hazard/complex-emergencies/

Terror at Mass Gatherings in the Media: A Case Study in the 2013 Boston Marathon Bombings How the media’s framing of terrorist attacks at mass gatherings impacts individuals’ emotions and risk perceptions By Keerthi Medicherla and Katherine Kelleher About the Authors Katherine Kelleher and Keerthi Medicherla are third-year undergraduate students at the University of Virginia, and both hail from McLean, VA. Katherine Kelleher is studying to double major in Foreign Affairs and Statistics, while Keerthi Medicherla is currently pursuing a double major in Global Security and Justice and Computer Science. Their faculty advisor for this project was The Batten School of Public Policy professor Brad Carson. Foreword I am excited that the Wilson Journal is publishing the research of two outstanding students, Katherine Kelleher and Keerthi Medicherla. Their research arose from an independent study they conducted in Summer and Fall 2020, and relates to a course of mine in which both were students, Terrorism and Counterterrorism. In the class, Ms. Medicherla and Ms. Kelleher were particularly interested in the emotional reactions of people who see reports of terrorism in the news. To that end, they worked closely with the Institutional Review Board to craft a unique survey, which they administered to other students and personal contacts. The authors placed their survey results in the context of the

Keerthi Medicherla & Katherine Kelleher

emerging literature on how negative news affects the emotions of people. This is a relatively new area of scholarly inquiry, but it is an area that, in this digitized world, is of enormous importance. Ms. Kelleher and Ms. Medicherla demonstrate in this paper a mastery of the academic research, and they proceed to make their own contribution to it. Of particular interest is the authors’ examination of the impact on viewers of how a particular news story about terrorism is framed. I am enormously proud of the work Ms. Medicherla and Ms. Kelleher put into this paper, and I believe their results offer new insights into the mechanisms by which terrorism insinuates itself into the public consciousness. I intend to use their findings in my own teaching, alongside well-established scholars of this field. It is a particular pleasure to see their outstanding research published in the Wilson Review, a flagship publication of the university. I am confident that this research will stand the test of time, and, as the authors argue, point to additional necessary inquiry. The work of Ms. Kelleher and Ms. Medicherla is a worthy addition to the distinguished legacy of the Wilson Review. Brad R. Carson Batten School of Leadership and Public Policy University of Virginia Abstract In this study, we explored the connection between two areas: first, the news media’s portrayal of terrorist attacks at mass gatherings, and second, individuals’ emotions and risk perceptions upon consuming such news. By collecting and analyzing survey responses in which voluntary participants answered questions, watched news clips discussing the 2013 Boston Marathon bombings, and reported their subsequent emotional states, we identified trends in the data. Among other patterns, we found that immediately after viewing news coverage of an attack at a large-scale event, the study’s participants reported themselves as less likely to attend a future mass gathering. In addition, we identified differences in emotional responses based on the type of video an individual consumed—for example, in the case of this study, news clips that highlighted the terrorists themselves, as opposed to other aspects of an attack, produced anger as a common response. This

Keerthi Medicherla & Katherine Kelleher

paper describes these findings and others, and describes the ways in which future research could build upon the foundation established by this study. Introduction When we conducted this study in the summer of 2020, the coronavirus pandemic had actualized a world in which mass gatherings were taboo, a menace to global stability and public health. The highly anticipated Tokyo Summer Olympic Games were one of many postponed or cancelled events. The world sat inside or, if not, masked and six feet apart. While any pandemic is, of course, an overwhelmingly negative entity, a summer defined by COVID-19 gave us the unique opportunity to research and analyze mass gatherings at a time when very few were occurring. This paper discusses the effects of the media’s portrayal of terrorist attacks that occur at mass gatherings, such as concerts and sporting events, on individuals’ desires to attend similar functions in the future. In other words, the question at hand is the following: what emotions does the media’s coverage of such events elicit, and what effect do those emotions have on people’s subsequent decisions? It’s important to note that other studies have explored the relationship between terrorist attacks and individuals’ emotional responses, as well as the effect of the media on perceptions and decisions. Emotions elicited by news coverage of terrorist attacks at mass gatherings, however, is a subject that remains largely unexplored. In order to develop a working understanding of the way that emotions are intertwined with individual actions and perceptions, we researched the Appraisal Tendency Framework and similar studies (Raghunathan and Pham 1999; Smith and Ellsworth 1985; Small and Lerner 2005), and to understand the effects of the media on people’s tendencies and responses, we explored such studies as Jonah Berger et. al’s Positive Effects of Negative Publicity: When Negative Reviews Increase Sales (Berger, Sorensen, and Ramussen 2010). This culminated in a decision to research the media’s effect on risk perceptions at mass gatherings through a case study on the 2013 Boston Marathon bombings, and how such perceptions vary based on gender, elicited emotions, and news sources. An understanding of the data in this paper is critical for both media outlets and consumers themselves. While creating their reports, the media can use this data to accurately assess their news coverage’s impact on

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consumers. Consumers of the news can navigate the process of analyzing their emotions, the effects those feelings have on the tendencies they exhibit, the paths they pursue, and the perceptions they carry with a clearer head by comprehending the media’s influence over them. Data Collection The empirical basis for this study came from a survey sent to a random sample of 500 students from the University of Virginia and 120+ of the researchers’ personal contacts. The study consists of data from the 127 respondents who completed the survey. Of these, 66.14% were female, 29.13% were male, and 4.72% preferred not to say. Participants in the study did not receive compensation and understood that their participation was completely anonymous and voluntary. Additionally, it’s important to establish the details associated with this survey. Individuals rated their likelihood of attending a mass gathering, in this case a hypothetical all-expense-paid trip to a county fair with some security, as a reference point for their baseline willingness to attend a populated event. They then were shown one of six videos, all under four minutes, which spanned the political spectrum and covered the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing in a variety of media styles. Finally, after the video, respondents were asked to both describe how they felt in one word and how likely they were to attend the 2021 Tokyo Summer Olympic Games. In order to gauge how and to what extent media coverage of a terrorist attack would impact individuals’ perceptions of their personal risk and willingness to attend a future mass gathering, we analyzed this data for patterns between selfdescribed emotions and the decision to participate in crowded events. Our analysis also examined the effects of gender, and the differences between the various videos shown, on participants’ decisions and actions. Furthermore, it’s vital to discuss the questions associated with participants’ likelihood of attending the two events. Importantly, both the question about the county fair and the Tokyo Summer Olympic Games indicated that participants should disregard COVID in their personal assessment of their willingness to attend, in order to account for completing the survey during a global pandemic. Two scales indicated respondents’ willingness to participate in a mass gathering. The first was a seven-point word scale (“extremely likely, moderately likely, slightly likely, neither likely

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nor unlikely, slightly unlikely, moderately unlikely, extremely unlikely”) for the survey’s question about attending a county fair that was asked before the video. The second scale for the question about attending the Summer Olympic games had the same seven options with an additional option (“extremely unlikely, because I don't like sports”). This accounted for participants’ lack of interest in sporting events as the change driving individuals to skip the second event. Responses to the question about the Tokyo Summer Olympic Games had a correlation of 0.7 with the words chosen by each respondent to describe their emotional state after the video. This suggests an underlying connection. Nonetheless, it is important to consider potential limitations associated with our data collection. While a random sample was used for this survey, some participants also received the survey due to their relationships with the researchers. This also meant that some respondents may have heard about the study before participating in it due to their relationships with the researchers. Some participants also lacked a button to return to previous questions and, therefore, may have mistaken which video title they selected after the video played. A new link with an identical survey was sent out to all groups to address this problem, but many responses come from the first link. Finally, it’s important to recognize that this study is based on a small survey size of only 127 respondents Furthermore, some aspects of analysis compelled the researchers to count only 119 of these answers. However, the findings in this paper are a strong starting point for potential future research projects that have the resources to gather a larger participant sample. Overview of Responses 119 of the total 127 completed responses provide the basis for the following section. As aforementioned, 8 participants referenced their dislike of sports—as opposed to, for example, emotions elicited upon viewing their assigned news clip—as their reason for not attending the mass gathering described in our survey, leading the researchers to only consider the remaining 119 responses for much of the analysis. As described earlier, participants first rated their likelihood of attending a large gathering, a hypothetical county fair. In this initial section, 89.9% of participants responded that they were “slightly likely,” “moderately likely,” or “extremely likely" to attend. Only 6.77% responded that they were

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“slightly unlikely,” “moderately unlikely,” or “extremely unlikely” to attend, with the remaining 3.33% stating that they were neutral. Participants then watched one of six possible short news clips covering the 2013 Boston Marathon bombings. They were then asked to gauge their likelihood of attending a future sporting event, the 2021 Tokyo Olympics. Ostensibly because of the negative emotions we predict to arise, we anticipated that far fewer participants would be likely to attend after viewing the news coverage. The results supported this hypothesis. 60.5% of the participants were now “slightly likely,” “moderately likely,” or “extremely likely" to attend the Games, and 36.13% were “slightly unlikely,” “moderately unlikely,” or “extremely unlikely” to do so (Figure 1). Overall, as a proportion of the 119 individuals that participated, 24.41% fewer were likely to attend after viewing the news coverage. As a proportion of the 119 participants, there was a 20.17% decrease in individuals that were specifically “extremely likely” to participate. This shows a marked correlation between viewing the news coverage and willingness to later attend a similar event. The sections that follow will further discuss this correlation. FIGURE 1

Relating Emotions to Decisions Over the past three decades, a number of studies have related emotions to actions, decisions, and states of being. This section details some of these analyses to measure whether the conclusions would be transferable to the data collected here. It is first necessary to discuss the results of our survey as they relate to this

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section. Immediately after watching their assigned video clip on the Boston Marathon bombings, participants described their emotional state in one word. We divided the study’s 119 relevant participants into categories based on the word that most closely resembled their self-described emotion: “Sad” (34), “Anxious” (13), “Angry” (6), “Afraid (3), “Curious” (1), “Sympathetic/ Empathetic” (4), “Shocked/Horrified” (8), “Jaded” (3), “Neutral” (9), “Sad/ Anxious” (1), “Other” (27), and “No response” (10) [Figure 2]. Overall, we categorized only a small portion of responses to be positive in valence, with the remainder being negative or neutral. FIGURE 2

After describing their one-word emotional state, respondents rated their likelihood of attending a future mass gathering, the Tokyo Olympics. Raghunathan and Pham: Anxiety vs. Sadness and Risk vs. Reward Near the turn of the century, researchers Raghunathan and Pham performed a study that showed a connection between anxiety, sadness, and reward-seeking behaviors (Raghunathan and Pham 1999, 56). While high reward behaviors correlated with sadness, low-risk behaviors correlated with anxiety. (Han, Lerner, and Keltner 2007, 160). While testing if Raghunathan and Pham’s conclusion would be transferable to the study discussed in this paper, we categorized not attending the mass gathering as a low-risk behavior and attending the event as a high-reward opportunity. Importantly, the

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applicability of Raghunathan and Pham’s paper depends on the validity of this assumption. Therefore, the corresponding prediction was that the respondents in the “Sad” category would be likely to attend the Tokyo Olympics scenario presented to them, while the “Anxious” respondents would opt for the low-risk option and therefore be unlikely to do so. The results partially supported this prediction, but only when it came to those that answered “extremely likely.” Specifically, 41.18% of participants in the “Sad” category were “extremely likely” to attend the Tokyo Olympics, compared to 30.77% of the participants in the “Anxious” category (Figure 3). This was a more than 10% difference in favor of the “Sad” category, a variation that supported our prediction; however, the same did not hold true for all measures of likelihood (extreme, slight, and moderate) when aggregated. In fact, 76.9% of “Anxious” participants were “slightly,” “moderately,” or “extremely” likely to attend, compared to only 67.6% of “Sad” participants. FIGURE 3

Sadness, Anger, and Certainty Levels Sadness is generally categorized as a low certainty emotion, whereas anger is classified as a high certainty emotion (Han, Lerner, and Keltner 2007, 159). Researchers have carried these appraisals over to other studies; for example, in 2005, researchers Small and Lerner used them to find differences in welfare solutions proposed by sad and angry individuals (Han, Lerner, and Keltner 2007, 161). In the case of the study discussed in this paper, there

Keerthi Medicherla & Katherine Kelleher

are two different possible interpretations associated with explaining the differences in certainty between sad (low certainty) and angry (high certainty) individuals. The sections below detail these two different interpretations. The first prediction was that sadness would correlate with less definitive responses like “moderately likely/unlikely” or “slightly likely/ unlikely” with regards to attending the Tokyo Olympics, while anger would correlate with more certain verbiage, like “extremely likely/unlikely.” Whether participants wanted to attend or not, the prediction was that they would be more certain of that decision if their news clip made them angry rather than sad. Our data did not substantiate this prediction—only 33% of “Angry” participants responded that they would be “extremely likely/unlikely” to attend, compared to 50% of “Sad” participants (Figure 4). However, this may have been due to the small number of participants (6) that were in the “Angry” category. Perhaps further studies could employ different methods, like researchers inducing anger in (willing) participants, to ensure a larger sample size and possibly demonstrate different conclusions. FIGURE 4

The second prediction was that sadness (low certainty) would lead to individuals changing the initial decision they made prior to viewing the news coverage, while anger (high certainty) would lead to individuals maintaining their initial decision. For example, if an individual responded that they would be “extremely likely” to attend the hypothetical county fair described early in the survey, and then reacted with anger to the video they were shown, they

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would still be “extremely likely,” or some form of “likely,” to attend the Tokyo Olympics scenario presented to them in the following question. Interestingly, the data partially supports the prediction that more participants would change their decision upon feeling sad than angry. As mentioned earlier, there were seven possible metrics for likelihood of attendance (“extremely/moderately/slightly likely,” “neutral,” “extremely/ moderately/slightly unlikely”). 66.67% of “Angry” participants changed from any one of the seven to another of the seven, compared to only 55.88% of “Sad” participants, which disagreed with the prediction. However, when only meaningful changes, the data supported the hypothesis. In this case, a meaningful change was interpreted to be a shift from any measure of “likely” —“extremely,” “moderately,” or “slightly” —to “neutral” or any measure of “unlikely,” or vice versa. 33.33% of “Angry” participants shifted, compared to a slightly higher 35.29% of “Sad” participants (Figure 5). The similarity of these percentages suggests that further research ought to be done with larger sample sizes, especially for the “Angry” category, which had only six participants to analyze. FIGURE 5

The data described above suggests that emotions elicited upon consuming news media can impact individuals’ future decisions in a variety of ways. There is potential for further exploration, especially when it comes to confirming the degree to which these decisions might vary over time as the memory of the news coverage fades, and whether repeated exposure to such

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coverage would heighten individuals’ emotions or dampen the effects. Video Influence on Emotion The six video clips shown during the survey spanned the political spectrum, framing the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing in different ways. The survey included videos from CNN, The New York Times, NBC local WPTV, Bloomberg, ABC, and The Wall Street Journal. After each video, the survey prompted the participants with the following: “Having watched the video or video clip, describe in one word how you feel.” For each video, the most common emotion described by survey participants was sadness. However, a closer look at the emotions described by participants reveals marked differences in the words expressed following each source. This indicates that the framing of terrorist attacks in the media will lead to varying sentiments among audience members. Boston Marathoner: Bombings ‘absolutely surreal’ Thus, it’s important to discuss details associated with each video. The CNN video, “Boston Marathoner: Bombings ‘absolutely surreal’,” covers the bombing through an eyewitness account. The video consists of testimony from a runner who describes the bombing from his perspective and his inability to run away because of the chaos (CNN 2013). Out of the six videos, the CNN coverage had the widest array of words chosen by respondents to describe their emotions after watching it. There were 17 different words used in total (Figure 6). The words covered emotions ranging from sadness, to anxiety, to anger. The most common word used was “sad,” which made up 17.39% of the responses for this video. Although “sad” was the most common response for almost every video, this clip had one of the smallest percentages of individuals who claimed to be sad. The second most frequent emotional response to the CNN coverage was “anxiety,” which made up 8.70% of the responses. When combined with other words that could also be categorized as anxious emotions such as “uneasy,” “unsettled,” and “uncomfortable,” anxiety became even more prevalent, making up 21.75% of the responses. However, the frequency of self-described anxiety in the CNN video becomes understandable when paying attention to the way in which the platform covered the event. The news network chose to air a first-hand account of the event from a survivor, whose voice is audibly shaky (CNN

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2013). The man in the video then details the chaos that unfolded on the scene as people attempted to leave the area. In his work “Emotion and Adaptation,” Lazarus discusses his view that appraisals of uncertain existential threats characterize anxiety (Lazarus 1991). The disorder described in the video provides an explanation for the prevalence of “anxious” emotional states in the survey responses for this clip. Since anxiety is a low-certainty feeling, the data suggests that by using testimony and images that depict a chaotic scene, media outlets can make their audience anxious about terrorist attacks on mass gatherings. FIGURE 6

Boston Marathon Explosions: Obama Press Conference on Bomb Attacks In contrast to the eyewitness approach employed in the CNN video, “Boston Marathon Explosions: Obama Press Conference on Bomb Attacks,” by the New York Times (NYT), consists of then-President Obama giving a press conference with an even demeanor. The video contains no images beyond President Obama in the White House press room, and President Obama discusses that the event was a “senseless loss” and that the government was “mobilizing appropriate resources to investigate and to respond to the bombing” (NYT 2013). The most common emotional response to this clip was sadness, expressed by 35.29% of those who viewed it (Figure 7). However, most responses to the press conference were demure compared to words chosen by participants who watched other media outlets. Words unique to the video clip such as “assured” and “reassured” made up 11.76% of the responses. Participants also mentioned feeling “bummed” and “somber,” indicating that the NYT clip elicited a weaker emotional charge

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than the other videos’ responses, which contained words such as “horrified” and “devastated,” and four of which contained the word “anger” (Figure 7). This suggests that media covering terrorist attacks without images of the incident and with the government’s official response will evoke moderate emotional responses. Thus, exploring the reasons for these moderate responses is vital. The comparatively mild emotions felt by participants who watched the NYT clip may have been because audiences are likely to support and adopt the government’s position when news outlets reflect authorities’ position on a terror attack (Yarchi, Galily, and Tamir 2015, 1010). Because the video only featured President Obama’s response, which framed the bombing as a tragedy and reassured the public that steps were being taken to investigate the incident and increase security, the responses collected were serious and sad but less anxious or angry. Therefore, should a media outlet want to avoid directing its audience to experience highly charged emotions, perhaps it should cover a terrorist attack with few graphic images and stick to facts and actions being taken around the case, as opposed to the unknowns of the incident. FIGURE 7

Boston Marathon Explosions: Terror at the Finish Line The third video, ABC News’ coverage of the 2013 Boston bombing, “Boston Marathon Explosions: Terror at the Finish Line”, contained the most graphic clips of the six videos in the study. The video features a reporter who uses the words “shock” and “sadness” to describe the city in the aftermath of the attack and who explains that 140 people were wounded, with at least

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three dead, including an eight-year-old (ABC News 2013). The ABC clip also contains several angles of the bomb exploding as terrified runners and spectators attempted to escape (ABC News 2007). The use of the word “sadness” in the video reflects the largest percentage of participants out of all sources who described their emotional state as “sad” at 40.74%, as is the word “shock” which made up 7.41% of the responses (Figure 8). In the video, the reporter also describes the scene of the bombing as that of a “war zone” (ABC News 2007). In conjunction with the numerous clips of the explosion and an emphasis on the eight-year-old that died, this characterization elicited unique responses such as “bloody,” reflecting the gory imagery (Figure 8). The data, therefore, suggests that when framing a terrorist attack with graphic video and an emphasis on terrorism targeting innocent people, an audience will feel intense emotions ranging from sadness and anger to anxiety. FIGURE 8

Does Boston Bombing Fit a Terrorism Pattern? “Does Boston Bombing Fit a Terrorism Pattern?”, a video produced by Bloomberg, includes a discussion with experts from the FBI who speculate that terrorists carried out the Boston Marathon bombing, and if that were the case, how authorities would catch them. The video does not contain many images beyond the anchor and FBI experts. There is one picture of the bombing suspects, as well as a clip of authorities searching for the individuals responsible for the attack (Bloomberg Quicktake 2013). This video is the only clip in the study that lacked participants who described their emotional state after watching the video as “sad” (Figure 9). The most common word used to convey an emotional state was “angry,”

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which comprised 12.50% of the responses. This anger may result from the Bloomberg clip’s focus on suspects of the attack, rather than the attack itself. According to Peter Kuppins in his article “Interactional Appraisal Models for the Anger Appraisals of Threatened Self-Esteem, Other-Blame, and Frustration,” an antecedent to anger is “attributing hostile intentions to the behavior of others” (Kuppens & Van Mechelen 2007, 58). The video also emphasizes that the suspects “looked like they were planning to initiate more attacks” (Bloomberg Quicktake 2013). This may have facilitated the number of responses that could be categorized as fearful, such as “concerned,” “uneasy,” “nervous,” and “unsafe,” which made up 25.0% of the total responses. Since fear comes from uncertainty and lack of individual control, the survey participants’ reactions demonstrate that contextualizing a terrorist attack in terms of the perpetrators, especially if they have not been caught, may lead to a combination of anger and fear. FIGURE 9

Explosions Mar Boston Marathon The Wall Street Journal (WSJ) video titled “Explosions Mar Boston Marathon” predominantly consists of an interview with a news anchor and a reporter on the ground where the bombing occurred. The video is from April 15th, 2013 right after the bombing occurred, and contains still images of the rescue occurring after the blast, but no footage of the actual bombing. The video mentions the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995 and speculates that the Boston attack might be the product of terrorism, but warns the audience that they “do not want to speculate” as to whether blast was intentional (Wall Street Journal 2013). Finally, the video also claims that security [was]

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beefed up in New York City… and that major cities are on alert.” (Wall Street Journal 2013). All of these factors culminated in 35.71% of participants reacting to the clip with sadness, and a relatively even distribution of anger, shock, anxiety, and indifference (Figure 10). By visually touching on the tragedy of the event, the video elicited feelings of sadness. Additionally, likely because the clip offers a circumspect discussion on the possibility of terrorism without attributing blame to an individual, anger makes up 7.14% of responses (Figure 10). This is a small proportion of all responses for this video compared to other clips that discussed terrorism. Finally, because the anchor reminds the audience that other large cities are still vulnerable to attack and are on alert, the video may have caused some individuals who viewed the video to feel anxious, an emotion previously discussed to accompany uncertainty. FIGURE 10

Locals Watching Coverage of Boston Marathon Lastly, Del Ray, Florida’s local NBC station, covered reactions to the Boston bombings in a local bar meant for Bostonians in their video “Locals Watching Coverage of Boston Marathon.” The media clip consists of residents watching the aftermath of the bombings and attempting to contact their loved ones in Boston, with one individual interviewed stating that she was “ready to cry” (NBC Local WPTV 2013). The survey participants appeared to share this sentiment, , as 31.25% of them reported being sad when they answered the question that followed (Figure 11). The video also features a father whose son’s marathon time was around the pace that suffered most from the bombing, and who “tried [his son’s] cellphone and hadn’t heard

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anything” (NBC Local WPTV 2013).12.5% of respondents reported feeling “sympathetic,” suggesting that they recognized the emotions individuals in the video were experiencing, such as uncertainty. The anxiety levels of those who watched this clip seems to reflect this uncertainty, with 18.75% of participants reporting to be “anxious,” an emotional response that often stems from a lack of information or control. This implies that when the media assumes the viewpoint of individuals watching a terrorist attack unfold, the audience may react similarly to the people included in the clip. FIGURE 11

Gender, Emotion, and Certainty Levels In this study, both males and females tended to experience similar breakdowns of emotion. Females and males reported sadness 27.8% and 26.47% of the time, respectively, establishing sadness as the most common emotion. Those who preferred not to include their gender on the survey experienced sadness 50.0% of the time; however, only 6 out of 119 individuals were included in this category, making this datum less statistically significant. The largest emotional deviation between males and females was a difference in reported anger. Only 1.2% of women claimed to experience anger after watching a clip, while 14.7% of men said they were angry. Due to the fact that anger is often the result of an “appraisal pattern of high certainty and high individual control” (Han, Lerner, and Keltner 2007, 159), it is possible that women view attacks on mass gatherings with less certainty than men . Instead of anger, the second most common emotional response for women was feeling “upset,” an emotion that no men reported to experience. Additionally, after watching the videos in the survey covering

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the 2013 Boston bombings, men were 40.74% less likely to attend a mass gathering, as the video emphasized large gatherings’ vulnerability to terrorist attacks. Similarly, women were 26.67% less likely to attend a mass gathering like the 2021 Tokyo Olympics after viewing their randomly assigned video clip. Additionally, those who preferred not to share their gender were 80% less likely to attend a large event after watching a video; however, the magnitude of this change is likely due to the fact that only six participants were part of this group. This suggests that both men and women are less likely to attend a mass gathering after hearing about it in the media. Although men experienced higher proportions of anger, they did not seem to adhere to the prediction that because “angry people make optimistic risk assessments,” they therefore are more likely to attend mass gatherings (Han, Lerner, and Keltner 2007, 162). However, the survey’s lower male participation should induce some degree of skepticism in completely accepting this conclusion. Men only made up 29.13% of the study participants, so it is possible that experiencing anger actually does lead to continued male involvement in mass gatherings at higher rates than women. Although anger does not seem to significantly impact participation in large events, the way media frames terrorist attacks and elicits different feelings may still be the main factor that influences their risk assessments. The decrease in both male and female likelihood of attending a mass gathering after watching a video about the Boston Marathon indicates that high levels of sadness may lead to individuals feeling less inclined to risk personal safety by attending a mass gathering. Conclusion This study demonstrates that after watching media covering a terrorist attack on a mass gathering, individuals may be less likely to anticipate attending another highly populated event in the future. Media coverage that elicits sad emotions tends to cause individuals to be less likely to attend a mass gathering than news that elicits anger. However, due to the small magnitude of this difference, the replication of this study with a larger sample size could make this finding more significant. Furthermore, the data and the six media clips included in this paper also demonstrate how content differences in the coverage of a terrorist attack prompt varying emotional responses. In this study, media that lacks visual cues and focuses on reassurance resulted in less passionate feelings.

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Videos that focus on the perpetrators of terrorist attacks evoked more anger than sadness, and highly graphic clips resulted in acute emotions of sadness, anxiety, and anger.

The decrease in both male and female likelihood of attending a mass gathering after watching a video about the Boston Marathon indicates that high levels of sadness may lead to individuals feeling less inclined to risk personal safety by attending a mass gathering. Future Research The conclusions reached in this study and the data discussed within lend themselves to further research and exploration. As we are undergraduate researchers working without a budget, our sample was small and largely composed of individuals in our own social spheres. Replicating this study with a larger and more representative sample would allow researchers to confirm and add to the conclusions above. Beyond that, new studies could certainly develop based on the information within this paper. For example, 10.92% of respondents were either in the “Jaded” or “Neutral” emotional categories after watching their assigned news clip. It would be interesting to test whether repeated exposure to news coverage, or some other factor, can heighten a sense of being accustomed to or unaffected by further media exposure. More broadly, how do emotional reactions to news coverage vary over time? Out of the 127 participants in the study, 9 had a response to the news clip that the researchers interpreted as positive in valence. There was no immediately evident relation between the video participants watched and whether they had a positive or negative reaction, but because there were only 9 “positive” participants to analyze, this could certainly change if that number were scaled upwards. How does a positive response correlate with the type of video being shown? How does it affect the decisions that individuals ultimately make about attending similar future events? All images used in this paper were created by the authors using Python or Excel.

Bibliography CNN. 2013. “Boston Marathoner: Bombings ‘absolutely surreal’.” Youtube video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U9Ia5PibFhc. The New York Times. 2013. “Boston Marathon Explosions: Obama Press Conference on Bomb Attacks.” Youtube video. https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=qBC5ezy7uX8. ABC News. 2013. “Boston Marathon Explosions: Terror at the Finish Line.” “Boston Marathon Explosions: Terror at the Finish Line.” YouTube video. April 15th, 2013. https://youtu.be/CdgGj7wON10. Smith, Craig A, and Phoebe C. Ellsworth. 1985. “Patterns of cognitive appraisal in emotion,” Journal of Personality & Social Psychology 48: 813-838. https://doi.apa.org/ doiLanding?doi=10.1037%2F0022-3514.48.4.813 Small, Deborah A, and Jennifer S. Lerner. 2005. “Emotional Policy: Personal sadness and anger shape public welfare preferences,” International Society of Political Psychology. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.14679221.2008.00621.x Bloomberg QuickTake Originals. 2013 “Does Boston Bombing Fit a Terrorism Pattern?” Youtube video. https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=MjhRKw6SjMU. Wall Street Journal. 2013. “Explosions Mar Boston Marathon.” Youtube video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rH4t__fQePw. NBC Local WPTV. 2013. “Locals watching coverage of Boston Marathon.” Youtube video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBGSqQKn-F8. Berger, Jonah, Alan T. Sorensen, and Scott. J Rasmussen. 2010. “Positive Effects of Negative Publicity: When Negative Reviews Increase Sales,” Marketing Science https://doi.org/10.1287/mksc.1090.0557 Yarchi, Moran, Yair Galily, and Ilan Tamir. 2015. “Rallying or Criticizing? Media Coverage of Authorities' Reaction to Terror Attacks Targeting Sporting Events.” Studies in Conflict & Terrorism 38 (12): 1008-1021. https://doi.org/10.1080/1057610X.2015.1076644 Kuppens, Peter, and Iven Van Mechelen. 2007. “Interactional Appraisal Models for the Anger Appraisals of Threatened Self-Esteem, OtherBlame, and Frustration.” Cognition and Emotion 21 (1) : 56 -77. https://doi.org/10.1080/02699930600562193 Lazarus, Richard S. 1991. “Emotion and adaptation.” New York: Oxford

University Press: 609-637. Raghunathan, Rajagopal, and Michael T. Pham. 1999. “All negative moods are not equal: Motivational influences of anxiety and sadness on decision making.” Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes 79: 56 - 77. https://doi.org/10.1006/obhd.1999.2838. Han, Seunghee, Jennifer Lerner, and Dacher Keltner. 2007. “Feelings and Consumer Decision Making: The Appraisal Tendency Framework.” Journal of Consumer Psychology 17(3) : 158 - 168. https://doi. org/10.1016/S1057-7408(07)70023-2

Sanctuary and Civil Initiative: Challenging State Sovereignty Through Two Types of “Higher Law” By Lydia McVeigh

About the Author Lydia McVeigh is a fourth-year undergraduate student from Portland, Oregon studying Political Philosophy, Policy, and Law and History. She wrote this paper for Heather Warren’s course “American Religion, Social Reform, and Democracy” in Spring 2020. At UVA, Lydia is on the executive boards of the University Judiciary Committee and the undergraduate Moot Court team. She is also the co-founder of Students for Equity and Reform in Virginia, a student political advocacy and lobbying club. Currently, Lydia is working in the Virginia House of Delegates as a legislative aide for the 2021 session. In her free time, she loves running, playing fantasy football, and trying out new Charlottesville restaurants. After graduation, she plans to work in local government and hopes to ultimately pursue a career as an attorney. Foreword I am delighted that the Virginia Journal is publishing Lydia McVeigh’s paper on the sanctuary movement of the 1980s. Ms. McVeigh’s article grew out of my Spring, 2020 course America Religion, Social Reform, and Democracy (Relc 3465), an upper-level seminar that focuses on the influence which Christianity has exerted in defining American democracy through social reform efforts from the antebellum period to the present. A requirement of the course was for every student to carry out research on a self-chosen topic pertaining to American religion and social reform. Students had to submit a working bibliography at mid-term, meet with me to review the scope of the research, and before submitting the final version of the paper deliver an oral presentation to the class on their findings and the thesis of

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their essay. Ms. McVeigh frequently consulted with me as she conceptualized her project and dug into her topic. Ms. McVeigh wrote one of the strongest papers I have read in a course. She revised it for publication, contacting not only me for additional review but also a professor in her Politics, Philosophy, and Law major, and an external reader. The result is an even more robust essay that sets forth the significance of the sanctuary movement. Excellently researched, the article draws upon and integrates primary and secondary literature from the three intersecting fields of this study: international law, politics, and religion. Particularly nuanced is Ms. McVeigh’s exposition of the sanctuary movement’s creative claim of “civil initiative” to challenge the authority of the nation-state on the basis of religious and secular sources that transcend the state itself. The essay proceeds in a clear style, making the most complex implications of the sanctuary movement accessible to all readers. Heather A. Warren Department of Religious Studies University of Virginia Abstract The Sanctuary Movement was a movement led by over 500 mainly Christian church groups in the 1980s that focused on harboring and sheltering undocumented Central Americans in open violation of the Immigration and Nationality Act. The Sanctuary Movement was the largest civil disobedience campaign since the 1960s, but movement participants did not use the term “civil disobedience” to describe their work; instead, they coined the term “civil initiative.” This interdisciplinary paper seeks to understand the Sanctuary Movement in the context of international human rights law development and within the tradition of prior religious human rights advocacy and protest. Ultimately, I argue that the Sanctuary Movement, while situated within a religious protest tradition that has long appealed to “higher” moral law, also achieved a distinct milestone in this lineage through leaders’ appeals to “secular” international law. Framing the Sanctuary Movement as “civil initiative” was far from a simple terminological shift, and it represented a willingness to use religious interpretations of international law in order to assume the functions of the state. This

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explicitly challenges nation-state sovereignty in a manner not before seen in contemporary American religious protest. Introduction In the winter of 1985, sixteen individuals, most of whom were leaders of Christian congregations, sat in federal court, on trial for 71 counts of transporting and harboring undocumented immigrants. Although the prosecutors possessed evidence of a televised hearing in which the defendants vowed to publicly violate the Immigration and Nationality Act, those on trial maintained that their actions were not only morally correct, but supported by domestic and international law – defendant Sister Nicgorski declared, “if I am guilty of anything, I am guilty of living out the Gospel” even after her conviction (Campbell 2017, 489). These religious leaders, with the support of 500 mainly Christian congregations, took part in the Sanctuary Movement, the largest grassroots civil disobedience campaign since the 1960s. The Sanctuary Movement was situated within the long tradition of religious human rights advocacy and protest that has long appealed to “higher” moral law; but it also represented a distinct milestone within that tradition because it explicitly challenged nation-state sovereignty through its appeals to “higher” international law. This milestone is signified through Sanctuary Movement terminology. Unlike earlier religious civil disobedience campaigns such as the Civil Rights Movement, advocates did not describe Sanctuary as “civil disobedience” at all, but instead, coined the term “civil initiative.” “Civil initiative” signifies a willingness and an obligation to incorporate religious judgement in both interpreting and challenging the functions of the state, representing a complex religious engagement with secular domestic and international law. History of the Sanctuary Movement The Sanctuary Movement arose in the milieu of a refugee crisis. Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, several Central American countries, including Guatemala, El Salvador, and Nicaragua, were in the midst of harrowing civil wars. Most of these wars began with left-wing insurgencies against dictatorial rulers that were countered by violent, civilian-targeting backlash from state militaries, many of whom were supported or funded by the United States (Cunningham 1998, 374). Due to atmospheres of terror,

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persecution, and material deprivation, many citizens of these countries began to flee Central America to Mexico and the United States, claiming political asylum upon crossing the border. However, the United States denied most of these refugees asylum, asserting that they were instead economic migrants or that they were participants in their countries’ wars rather than victims of them (Cunningham 1998, 375). At the same time, however, the US admitted thousands of refugees fleeing the former USSR who, by the same logic, might have participated in their own countries’ upheavals, highlighting the double standard imposed upon Central American migrants (Campbell 2017, 477). At this time, the religious response to the refugee crisis began to veer in a different direction from the state response. Christian church groups helping to file asylum claims on behalf of Central Americans started to notice that their claims were being repeatedly denied (Cunningham 1998, 376). Individuals started questioning the ethics of deporting these migrants back to potentially violent situations. John Fife, a pastor at the Southside Presbyterian Church in Tucson and a later leader of the movement, stated in an interview that “we’d take in people who had torture marks all over their body [but] the immigration judge would order them deported the next day” (Retro Report 2017). Another eventual leader, Jim Corbett, was a member of the Quaker faith but primarily worked as a rancher and forester and was familiar with the Arizona and New Mexico borderlands. In an essay written in 1988, “Sanctuary, Basic Rights, and Humanity’s Fault Lines,” Corbett stated that he had “never been particularly interested in border problems” until he personally heard about a Salvadoran refugee who had been caught by Border Patrol and realized such apprehensions happened every day. He began housing migrants in his own home, but when his own space and resources became stretched, he sought out the faith community to supplement his efforts and eventually found a partner in John Fife. The two leaders, with the support of a growing community of congregations, began to embark on a formalized version of Corbett’s earlier efforts. The process of Sanctuary mimicked the organization of the Underground Railroad: participating volunteers would determine which individuals were eligible for their help; they would then pair them with counterparts in the Mexican church to coordinate border crossings, later shuttling the individuals to churches or private homes (Cunningham 1998, 378). Despite the logistical similarities to the Underground Railroad, the

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Sanctuary Movement did not stay clandestine for long. On March 24, 1982, the leaders of the movement publicly read a letter they had written to the Attorney General William Smith in which they declared their intention to violate the Immigration and Nationality Act by designating their churches as sanctuaries for undocumented immigrants. They also claimed that the current administration of the Immigration and Nationality Act was “immoral as well as illegal” (Campbell 2017, 478). The notoriety gained from the public reveal of the movement resulted in 500 churches participating in the movement at its height, including Christian denominations (such as Lutherans, the United Church of Christ, Roman Catholics, Eastern Orthodox, Presbyterians, Methodists, Baptists, Unitarian Universalists, Quakers, and Mennonites) and some Jewish institutions (Ahn 2013, 52; Wikipedia n.d.). Although the movement’s popular support and religious association initially deterred law enforcement efforts, in 1985 the FBI launched Operation Sojourner, a 10 month-long investigation wherein undercover agents posed as Sanctuary volunteers. This investigation led to the indictment of sixteen individuals--Fife, Corbett, and other religious figures included-on 71 criminal charges related to the harboring and transporting of “illegal aliens” (Campbell 2017, 482). At trial in the ensuing case, United States v. Maria del Socorro Pardo de Aguilar, six Sanctuary Movement organizers, including Fife, were found guilty of transporting “illegal aliens,” though Corbett was acquitted (Rotstein 1987). All individuals who were found guilty were given suspended sentences or house arrests out of fear that they could become “martyrs” for the cause (Campbell 2017, 490). However, despite the federal government’s attempt to curb that perception of martyrdom, the trial resulted in increased support for the movement and moral outrage against its prosecution. Even the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops released a statement cautiously supporting the movement leaders and urging the US Administration to halt its practice of deportation (Hoye 1985). In 1991, churches participating in the Sanctuary Movement filed the civil suit American Baptist Churches v. Thornburgh, which challenged US refugee and asylum policies and resulted in a settlement that allowed many Central Americans to apply, or re-apply for asylum (Campbell 2017, 490). In the 1990s, the movement slowly died down, perhaps as a result of peace agreements in Central America. However, the term “sanctuary” has undergone a resurgence in recent years as churches and even cities have branded

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themselves as “new sanctuaries” for undocumented individuals harmed by the Trump administration’s anti-immigrant policies, continuing the legacy of 1980s activism (Retro Report 2017). Christian Sanctuary and Human Rights Advocacy Prior to the Sanctuary Movement When analyzing changes in the relationship between church activists and international law and state sovereignty signified by the Sanctuary Movement, it is important to first outline prior practices of church sanctuary and Christian human rights advocacy. Although these practices offered alternatives to purely state-defined human rights, they ultimately complemented, rather than challenged, the authority of the nation-state. The term “sanctuary” has precedence in Christian tradition, dating back to biblical references in the Book of Numbers: “Select some towns to be your cities of refuge, to which a person who has killed someone accidentally may flee.” The purpose of such cities was to avoid the cycle of vengeance and ensure that the accused would “not die before they [stood] trial” (35:11–12). Similarly, in medieval times, church clergy allowed accused persons to live in churches if they confessed their sins in order to obtain refuge from those who desired vengeance. In a cooperation between religious and secular authorities, the accused could remain within the church for forty days. After this period, the accused either had to leave the area, stand trial, or (in some cases) join the religious order (Feen 1984, 134). Churches phased out this practice during the Reformation period; in the 17th century, the only church sanctuary practice remaining in Europe allowed debtors to stay in the church for a period of two months (Feen 1984, 135). Despite one interesting attempt by Protestant churches to establish sanctuary for escaped slaves, a law of sanctuary never existed in the United States due to the separation of church and state (Feen 1984, 135). Scholars, such as the director of the London Refugee Research Center, Philip Marfleet, have asserted that “control of population” is intimately tied with the “exercise of power” and that the authority of the Church in the domain of sanctuary had the potential to “bring conflict” with secular authority (Marfleet 2011, 447). However, Dr. Richard Feen used the historical record to argue that ancient sanctuary “was never meant to challenge openly and defiantly the civil authorities” (Feen 1984, 135).

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Church sanctuary prior to the 1980s did not represent radical immigration advocacy but merely a way station for immigrants while they waited to face secular authority. Interestingly, ancient sanctuary seems to have facilitated the effective accomplishment of states’ secular legal mechanisms by shielding defendants from extralegal killings prior to trial. Therefore, ancient sanctuary upheld the rule of law without causing any significant conflict between the secular and the religious. Turning to human rights advocacy, the post-World War II involvement of Christian groups advocating for international norms of human rights put greater pressure on the power of nation-states by stressing an alternate forum for the achievement of human rights. Ultimately, however, it reinforced that the correct vehicle for the achievement of human rights was the nation-state, rather than the individual or the church. Christian advocacy for universal standards of human rights during and post-World War II fits with a conception of human rights law as the legal body in which the metaphysical and the political intersect. Although the tension between understandings of law as politically- versus morallysourced has raged for millennia, classical natural law theorists like Aquinas argued that a law cannot exist unless it passes a threshold of common morality. Meanwhile, legal positivists argue that morality is not a necessary condition for validity and that the law arises as the result of political and social arrangements. Evidently, the formation of international human rights law raised questions both moral and political (Finnis 2020). The theological concept of human dignity was adopted to the political sphere by attempts to elucidate the particular conditions one must have to ensure dignity and by the operationalization of protecting dignity--the creation of legally defensible human rights. Legally codified human rights can satisfy both natural law theorists, who view these universally applicable laws as the codification of ius cogens erga omnes, the “fundamental” laws found in virtually all systems that derive from general moral principles, and legal positivists, who view them as the product of a socially accepted legal entity (Finnis 2020). Therefore, the forum represents a melding of the theological and the political, the perfect arena in which morally-inclined Christian activists could engage in political decision-making while remaining grounded in religious duty. Christian groups were particularly influential in the formation and US adoption of international human rights law. Before World War II,

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Americans, along with most American Christian churches, succumbed to isolationism and xenophobia, as was made evident by the “restrictionist” attitude seen in America’s unwillingness to relax immigration quotas for Jewish refugees during the Evian Conference (Van Ham 2009, 625; “Evian” n.d.). This isolationist attitude changed during the Second World War. In 1940, the Federal Council of Churches established the Commission of a Just and Durable Peace. This commission released reports on international peacemaking and advocated for the inclusion of its recommendations into the nascent body of international law (Warren 1997, 99). Four of its proposals ended up in the United Nations charter: “a preambulatory statement of the moral aims of the United Nations Organization; a commitment to develop a body of customary international law; a Trusteeship Council to move colonial peoples toward self-government; and a declaration of fundamental human rights” (Warren 1997, 107). Not only did Christian groups influence the formation of the United Nations, but they also worked to generate public support for US entrance into the organization. The Commission for a Just and Durable Peace ultimately endeavored to convince Americans to “commit themselves to a future of organized international collaboration,” and it joined ranks with other religious and civic groups to sell the development of the United Nations as a “religious matter” to the public (Dulles 1943). As a component of religious advocacy for international human rights, Christian groups began specifically taking part in immigration advocacy by forming institutions to advocate for the admission of European refugees based on biblical conceptions of hospitality. Some of the organizations active in the late 1940s included the Citizens’ Committee on Displaced Persons and the National Catholic Welfare Conference (NCWC) (Van Ham 2009, 627). Like those advocating for the establishment of the United Nations, figures in these organizations appealed to the achievement of human rights beyond a nation-state framework. In a letter for the Displaced Persons Conference in 1946, NCWC advocates wrote that “the imperative to aid [refugees] emanate[d] not from membership in a bounded territory, but from ‘human solidarity, as well as Christian brotherhood,” showing their increased willingness to consider forums beyond the nation for the achievement of moral and religious imperatives (Van Ham 2009, 631). Ultimately, though, these activists still pre-supposed the authority of the nation-state. They appealed to supranational ideals to compel their state to join

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in international norm-setting rather than compelling individuals or religious organizations to act beyond the state. These 1940s activists did not yet picture decentralized, local, and direct action as the correct tool for achieving human rights--a viewpoint that would later change. The Sanctuary Movement’s Dual Approach: The Bible and Human Rights Law The Sanctuary Movement, in contrast, demonstrates a shift in the conception of the balance between church and state authority, coinciding with the usage of international law to challenge the power of the nation-state and by encouraging the open defiance of domestic law. This shift to working for human rights by using methods beyond the state was rhetorically signaled in the March 1982 letter from the Sanctuary leaders to AG Smith declaring the “immoral[ity] and illegal[ity]” of the Immigration and Nationality Act (Campbell 2017, 478). This letter contained moral appeals that seemed in line with traditional religious activism, claiming that “participants had a ‘God-given right’ to aid those in need and that doing so was ‘obedience to God.’” Additionally, the letter also contained references to the Immigration and Nationality Act and international human rights law, therefore rejecting the authority of the state to act as the ultimate human rights arbiter while simultaneously “justifying Sanctuary on secular, legalistic grounds” (Van Ham 2009, 633). Sanctuary advocates drew their appeals from a wide variety of sources, among them the Bible, international law and treaties, and domestic law. Key to religious conceptions of the responsibility to immigrants is the ideal of “welcoming the stranger,” encapsulated in Jesus’ parable in the Gospel of Matthew: “I was a stranger and you invited me in…whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (25:35– 40). “Welcoming the stranger” ties closely with conceptions of hospitality; the Good Samaritan, who does not let national allegiances prohibit him from nursing a complete stranger back to health, is an oft-evoked example of “radical hospitality” (Luke 10:25–37; Van Ham 2011, 12). Both “welcoming the stranger” and “hospitality” tie into the overarching goal of universalism, a “belief in the oneness of humanity” that mandates ethical character extending beyond social categories (Van Ham 2011, 9). In his essay, Corbett clearly decries the government’s facilitation of the breakdown of universalism

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through its immigration policy, stating that “our government calls aliens… people we know as family, friends, fellow communicants” (Corbett 1988). Other religious justifications for Sanctuary take on democratic connotations: God in Leviticus 19:33–34 states to the Israelites,“when an emigrant settles with you in your country, do not oppress him…you will love him as yourself,” and God justifies this command because “[the Israelites] were emigrants in the land of Egypt” (Sobrino et al. 1988, 377). Because the US is commonly described as a “nation of immigrants,” this Biblical justification can evoke both religious and democratic solidarity. Finally, the influences of Latin American liberation theology also factored into religious justifications for Sanctuary, especially the concept of “orthopraxis,” the privileging of morally correct action over orthodox, morally correct thought (Cunningham 1998, 377). Despite their diverse sources, religious justifications all affirmed human dignity as a God-given right that remained with individuals despite national boundaries, representing a moral continuity with the justifications of post-WWII human rights advocacy. In terms of legal justifications for Sanctuary, advocates used material from treaty and customary international law as well as domestic law to argue that enforcement of the Immigration and Nationality Act did not conform to the United States’ human rights commitments. The 1951 UN Refugee Protocol established the commonly-known definition of a refugee as a person fleeing from persecution based on set categories, which the 1980 US Refugee Act also upheld (United Nations Human Rights Commission 1951; United States Congress 1980). However, Corbett argued in both “Sanctuary, Basic Rights, and Humanity’s Fault Lines” (1988) and “The Covenant As Sanctuary” (1984) that other sources of international law established additional definitions of persecution. He argued that the 1949 Geneva Conventions assured refugee status for those who flee life-threatening war conditions without the necessity of proving personal persecution, and that “everyday language and common law” established that persecution can also result from material deprivation or famine (Corbett 1984, 400; Corbett 1988). In this way, Sanctuary leaders rejected the US interpretation of the “persecution” standard because it led to impermissible distinctions between economic migrants and political refugees, and instead put forth their own legal interpretation of “persecution” inspired by international standards. Additionally, the 1951 Refugee Protocol and the 1980 US Refugee

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Act outlined several obligations that Sanctuary advocates alleged the US had reneged upon. The first, “nondiscrimination,” prohibited nations from treating refugees from one country preferentially and disadvantaging those from other countries (UNHCR 1951, 3). When advocates compared the number of admits fleeing the USSR with the number fleeing Central America, the discrepancy signaled potential discrimination against Central American refugees. Second, and of most importance, the principle of “nonrefoulement” stated that no nation “shall expel or return a refugee in any manner whatsoever to the frontiers of territories where his life or freedom would be threatened” (UNHCR 1951, 4). This principle is considered a tenet of customary international law due to its importance, binding for all nations regardless of individual assent. As evidenced by Fife’s description of torture victims being “deported the next day,” the Sanctuary leaders believed that the US had violated the principle of non-refoulement. Finally, Corbett mentioned the right to asylum in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, connecting moral sentiments about the universality of human rights to codified law (United Nations, 1948). Corbett’s legal justifications represent an evaluation of secular law using moral and religious frameworks. Not only did he search for connections within the law to moral concepts, he also employed moral sensibilities to argue for broader interpretation of secular legal concepts. As articulated by Van Ham, the Sanctuary leaders claimed the high ground both “juridically and morally” over state authority by utilizing these dual justifications (Van Ham 2009, 633). Although, based on their constant evocation of “obedience to God”, Sanctuary advocates’ religious and moral justifications appear to have taken priority over their legal justifications, they did not merely appeal to law as a tactical strategy. (Van Ham 2009, 633). By expressing that “the government [was] violating [its] own refugee law,” Sanctuary advocates demonstrated a sincere belief in the legality of their actions and therefore the soundness of their legal interpretations (Rose 2012, 30). This weaving of moral and legal justification illustrates the meaning behind “civil initiative,” a term coined by Jim Corbett to describe the nature of the movement. Civil initiative, as defined by Cornell’s Professor of International and Comparative Labor, Maria Lorena Cook, is “the exercise by individuals or their communities of their legally-established duty to protect the victims of government officials’ violations of fundamental rights” (Cook

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2011, 576). In campaigns such as Sanctuary, civil initiative works to push the government to fulfill its own legal and moral human rights commitments. Civil Disobedience and Civil Initiative The Sanctuary Movement was not the first organization to resist the idea that the state should be the ultimate authority on the protection of human rights. After the era of human rights in the 1940s, the 1960s saw increased calls for religious action against state failures. These religious protest movements, notably the Civil Rights Movement, appealed to “higher law” while describing protestors’ actions as “civil disobedience.” In “A Letter from a Birmingham Jail” Martin Luther King, Jr. (1963) outlined the concept of civil disobedience as “the moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws” and defined an unjust law as “a code that is out of harmony with the moral law” (82). King also expressed a respect for the rule of law when he stated that breaking an unjust law “in order to arouse the conscience of the community over its injustice is in reality expressing the highest respect for law” (83). Both civil disobedience and civil initiative subscribe to the theory that “an unjust law is not a law” and showcase an eagerness to evaluate secular law using religious principles (Finnis 2020). Ultimately, civil initiative emerged from America’s tradition of civil disobedience. The term “civil initiative” conceptually signals a different relationship with state authority and the law than the term “civil disobedience.” As Jim Corbett stated, civil disobedience “is conceived in terms of opposition to unjust laws rather than compliance with supreme laws of the land that mandate the protection of basic rights” (1988). In their justifications of civil disobedience in the 1960s, civil rights advocates appealed to “higher law” in a singular, moral sense without incorporating any evaluation of secular legal mechanisms. In contrast, Sanctuary advocates justifying their acts of civil initiative appealed to two types of “supreme laws of the land”: the moral higher law of human dignity as well as international law, which transcends national boundaries. By tracing the US government’s assent to international law and the influence of international principles upon domestic refugee law, Sanctuary advocates demonstrated that international law was indeed “supreme” and should be considered “binding” upon the actions of the US. While “civil disobedience” connotes a willingness to acknowledge the technical illegality of direct action despite its conformity with moral “higher

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law,” “civil initiative” purports to also uphold the secular rule of law by forcing the disobedient state to comply with “supreme” moral and international laws. Another important distinction is the source of duty in each concept: King describes civil disobedience as a “moral responsibility,” whereas Cook describes civil initiative as a “legally-established duty.”

In their justifications of civil disobedience in the 1960s, civil rights advocates appealed to "higher law" in a singular, moral sense without incorporating any evaluation of secular legal mechanisms. In contrast, Sanctuary advocates justifying their acts of civil initiative appealed to two types of "supreme laws of the land": the moral higher law of human dignity as well as international law, which transcends national boundaries. In his justification for the necessity of civil initiative, Corbett grounded the concept firmly in both politics and religion. Because he recognized that governments are “no more likely now than before Nuremberg to bring themselves to trial for violating human rights,” Corbett hoped that civil initiative could help create long-lasting policy change, describing the potential of civil initiative to mature into a “fully functional, constitutionallyintegrated institution for the protection of human rights” (1988). Although these aims are more explicitly political than earlier appeals to morality and human rights, Corbett never lost sight of his religious foundation, resting his hopes for political change in the power of religious organizations. He argued that if the state does not hold itself accountable, and if courts are ineffectual at enforcing international human rights standards, “prophetic witness is then the community’s only nonviolent way to hold the state accountable-which means that it is then up to the church to serve as the community’s institutional foundation for complying with humanitarian and human rights law” (Corbett 1984, 404). Church, State, and Sovereignty The terminological shift from civil disobedience to civil initiative is

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highly significant in the context of religious advocates’ relationship with the authority of the state and with secular law. According to Sophie Pirie’s 1990 article in the Yale Journal of Law & the Humanities, “the churches’ role in the regime of legalism” before the Sanctuary Movement, particularly in the area of immigration advocacy, “was similar to that of the Biblical sanctuaries: they provided an alternative, but coexisting, source of charity” (397). However, as illustrated by the invention of civil initiative terminology, advocates began to use legal language, in addition to moral language, as another source of legitimacy. By utilizing “legality claims,” advocates actively engaged with secular law to provide more powerful appeals rather than sticking to the traditional “domain” of religion in the moral sphere. Interestingly, Pirie argued that in addition to the possibility of secular law offering religious advocates inspiration, religious language could also offer secular advocates new vocabulary (Pirie 1990, 400). For example, a reliance on justifying asylum claims with the overly-legalistic “well-founded fear of persecution” language could narrow claims for asylum unnecessarily. In contrast, taking cues from Sanctuary’s arguments about the broad extent of persecution and universal human rights could provide helpful inspiration for secular advocates. Religious groups’ sojourn into legalism in the Sanctuary Movement built upon earlier advocacy by challenging state authority in increasingly numerous ways. Hilary Cunningham in “Sanctuary and Sovereignty” argued that Sanctuary’s “activism challenged the government’s hegemony in the area of foreign policy,” bringing “church and state, as categories of authority, into powerful conflict” (Cunningham 1998, 373). Moving beyond using religious frameworks to simply critique secular law, “Sanctuary-as-civil-initiative” increasingly substituted church action for the action of the state: Corbett argued that “civil initiative means doing justice…This usually means that we assume governmental functions on an emergency basis” (1988). When volunteers made decisions about which migrants to help, they “decid[ed] who enter[ed] and who stay[ed]” in the US, illustrating a willingness to assume the responsibility of governmental actors (Corbett 1988). Indeed, the advocates implicitly and explicitly challenged the state’s decisionmaking capacity with their evocations of a broader definition of persecution, thereby, as Van Ham (2009) argued, “widen[ing] their operations beyond the standard of sovereignty to accommodate undocumented refugees as well as immigrants motivated by economic need” (621). As explored above, Corbett

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even conceived of church-based civil initiative as an “institution” for the maintenance of human rights, signifying a willingness to permanently play a part in the mechanisms of the state. The rejection of government function in favor of individual action represents Sanctuary’s most significant evolution compared to earlier civil disobedience campaigns. The decision to partake in Sanctuary activities even altered some volunteers’ conception of state authority and their relationship to the state. Between 1990 and 1992, Hilary Cunningham conducted interviews with Sanctuary volunteers, most of whom were “not longstanding social activists” and had been “law-abiding citizens” who had voted for Ronald Reagan before their involvement (Cunningham 1998, 382). Cunningham described that some of the interviews illuminated personal transformations related to participants’ allegiances to the government and to the law. One volunteer stated, “sometimes I am ashamed of myself as an American…it almost seems that I could easily give that up and go live in Central America,” and another added, “I’m a Christian before I’m an American, I’m a human being before I’m an American” (Cunningham 1998, 383). Therefore, in addition to challenging broad delineations between church and state, Sanctuary also upended personal convictions of the balance between obeying one’s nation and obeying God. Conclusion As explored in this paper, Sanctuary leaders showcased both a willingness to incorporate legal concepts into traditional moral justifications for protest and religious action into what had traditionally been the domain of the state. This represents a distinct and explicit melding of the religious and the political that advanced the tradition of religious protest. This scholarship reflects a unique take on two familiar anxieties about state sovereignty: that a cozy relationship between church and state would compromise secular authority, and that international law erodes traditional state sovereignty by blurring the boundaries between nation-states. In the case of the Sanctuary Movement, these possibilities combine; the threat to state sovereignty comes not from the promulgators of international law, but from the religious interpretation of international law. Ultimately, the actions of Sanctuary advocates should be viewed not as an attempt to completely meld church with state, or nation with international community, but as a postmodern reaction

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against a modernist “will-to-purity” that aims to create strict binaries between the nation-state, the international community, and the church (Taylor 1992, 15). In contrast to both pre-modernists and modernists, “constructive postmodernists wish to establish the premodern harmony of humans, society, and God without losing the integrity of the individual” (Gier 2000, 44). Corbett and other Sanctuary advocates appealed to a fluid, rather than a rigid representation of morality and politics, endorsing the ability of religious concerns and international norms to act as a check upon state action but not advocating for a complete unity between these three realms. Overall, the case of Sanctuary reminds us that the church has always been “very, very political” in its quest to achieve universal human dignity, but that church groups’ methods and language have evolved over the contemporary era (Pirie 1990, 397).

Bibliography Ahn, Ilsup. 2013. Religious Ethics and Migration: Doing Justice to Undocumented Workers. New York: Routledge. Campbell, Kristina. 2017. “Operation Sojourner: Government Infiltration of the Sanctuary Movement in the 1980s and its Legacy on the Modern Central American Refugee Crisis.” University of St. Thomas Law Journal 13, no. 3: 475–507. https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers. cfm?abstract_id=3113785. Cook, Maria Lorena. 2011. “Humanitarian Aid is Never a Crime: Humanitarianism and Illegality in Migrant Advocacy.” Law & Society Review 45, no. 3: 561–591. https://www.jstor.org/stable/23012027. Corbett, Jim. 1984. “The Covenant as Sanctuary,” CrossCurrents 34, no. 4. Corbett, Jim. 1998. “Sanctuary, Basic Rights, and Humanity’s Fault Lines: A Personal Essay.” http://weberstudies.weber.edu/archive/archive%20 A%20%20Vol.%201-10.3/Vol.%205.1/5.1Corbet.htm. Cunningham, Hilary. 1998. “Sanctuary and Sovereignty: Church and State Along the US-Mexico Border,” Journal of Church and State 40, no. 2: 371–386. https://www.jstor.org/stable/23919853. “Denominational Breakdown of Sanctuaries.” 1985. Tucson: University of Arizona Special Collections. Dulles, John Foster. 1943. “Six Pillars of Peace: Cement Unity Now with Organized World Collaboration.” Commission to Study the Bases of a Just and Durable Peace. Lecture, New York City, NY, March 18, 1943. http://www.ibiblio.org/pha/policy/1943/194303-18a.html#:~:text=In%201940%2C%20the%20Federal%20 Council,thequalities%20that%20Christ%20taught. “Evian Conference.” n.d. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. https:// www.ushmm.org/learn/timeline-of-events/1933-1938/evianconference. Feen, Richard. 1984. “Church Sanctuary: Historical Roots and Contemporary Practices.” In Defense of the Alien 7: 132–139. https://www.jstor.org/ stable/23141145. Finnis, John. 2020. “Natural Law Theories.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, last modified 3 June 2020. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/naturallaw-theories/ Gier, Nicholas F. 2000. Spiritual Titanism: Indian, Chinese, and Western

Perspectives. New York: State University of New York Press. Green, Leslie. 2019. “Legal Positivism.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, last modified 17 December 2019. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/ legal-positivism/. Hoye, Daniel. 1985. “Statement on the Sanctuary Movement.” United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, January 14, 1985. http://www.usccb. org/issues-and-action/human-life-and-dignity/global-issues/ latin-america-caribbean/el-salvador/statement-on-sanctuarymovement-1985-01-14.cfm. King Jr., Martin Luther. 1963. “A Letter from Birmingham Jail.” Marfleet, Philip. 2011. “Understanding ‘Sanctuary’: Faith and Traditions of Asylum.” Journal of Refugee Studies 24, no. 3: 440–455. https://doi. org/10.1093/jrs/fer040. Oaks, Dallin. 1968. “Law and Order: A Two-Way Street.” Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 3, no. 4: 59–70. https://www.jstor.org/stable/ pdf/45227069.pdf. Pirie, Sophie. 1990. “The Origins of a Political Trial: The Sanctuary Movement and Political Justice,” Yale Journal of Law & the Humanities 2, no. 2: 381–416. https://digitalcommons.law.yale.edu/ cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1040&context=yjlh. Rose, Ananda. 2012. Showdown in the Sonoran Desert: Religion, Law, and the Immigration Controversy. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rotstein, Arthur. 1987. “Six Convicted of Conspiracy in Sanctuary Trial.” Associated Press, May 1, 1987. https://apnews. com/46751c1cc895c81f858b3c9e2dd7df8a. Retro Report. 2017. “Sanctuary Cities: Trump Renews an Uproar that Began Long Ago.” Filmed March 4, 2017. Video, 12:40. https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_ continue=1&v=w4GGR3Y8a5E&feature=emb_title. “Sanctuary Movement.” n.d. Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Sanctuary_movement. Sobrino, Jon and Walter Petry Jr. 1988. “Sanctuary: A Theological Analysis.” CrossCurrents 38, no. 2: 164–172. https://www.jstor.org/ stable/24459150. Taylor, Mark C. 1992. “Reframing Postmodernisms.” In Shadow of Spirit: Postmodernism and Religion, edited by Philippa Berry and Andrew

Wernick. London: Routledge. United Nations. 1948. “The Universal Declaration of Human Rights.” Paris. https://www.ohchr.org/EN/UDHR/Documents/UDHR_ Translations/eng.pdf. United Nations Human Rights Commission. 1951. “Convention and Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees.” Geneva. https://www.unhcr.org/ en-us/3b66c2aa10. United States Congress. 1980. “Refugee Act of 1980.” Washington, DC. https://www.flickr.com/photos/usnationalarchives/23149594195/in/ album-72157661462319371/. Van Ham, Lane. 2009. “Sanctuary Revisited: Central American Refugee Assistance in the History of Church-Based Immigrant Advocacy.” Political Theology 10, no. 4: 621–645. https://doi.org/10.1558/poth. v10i4.621. Van Ham, Lane. 2011. A Common Humanity: Ritual, Religion, and Immigrant Advocacy in Tucson, Arizona. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Warren, Heather. 1997. Theologians of a New World Order: Reinhold Niebuhr and the Christian Realists, 1920-1948. New York: Oxford University Press. Williams, Daniel K. 2010. “Jerry Falwell’s Sunbelt Politics: The Regional Origins of the Moral Majority.” Journal of Policy History 22, no. 2: 125-147.

Inside the 1953 Iran Coup: How Communism, the Cold War, and Oil Impacted the CIA’s Use of Covert Action By Brooke Alexander

About the Author Brooke Alexander is a second-year in the College of Arts and Sciences who hopes to double-major in Commerce, through the McIntire School, and History. In the context of these two broad academic fields, her interests include 20th century socio-political changes, the impact of historical events on modern economic trends, and methods to anticipate future economic changes. She is passionate about using history and the context that it offers to better understand modern events. Outside of the classroom, Brooke enjoys being part of UVA’s Women’s Rowing Team and volunteering as a mentor to elementary school children through Athletes Committed to Education (ACE). Foreword One of the most ill-considered policy decisions of the Cold War, the overthrow of the Iranian government in 1953 was considered at the time to be a huge success. Conceived and executed by British and American covert agencies, the toppling of the government of Prime Minister Mohammed Mossadegh—who the CIA believed was a dangerous leftist—was accomplished with small sums of money, and it left almost no trace of foreign involvement. The Eisenhower administration was so pleased with itself that it used the Iran coup as a template for later attempts to overthrow left-wing governments in Guatemala, Cuba, Congo, and Indonesia. Yet the Iran coup backfired horribly. It led to the creation of a repressive regime under the Shah of Iran that, for 25 years, broke every rule in the human rights handbook, all the while enjoying close ties to Washington. Arms flowed to the Shah, and

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oil flowed back to the West. Beneath the surface of the modernizing Iran, there stirred a deep opposition, fueled by religious faith, anger at the Shah’s repressive rule, and resentment toward western governments that supported it. In 1979, the Iranian people erupted, overthrowing the Shah and ushering in an era of theocratic rule. The question scholars have long debated is, why did the United States carry out this blatant interference in the politics of a sovereign country—a nation that was in the early 1950s building a tradition of democratic self-government? What could have compelled Washington to act so brazenly and thoughtlessly? Brooke Alexander gets at the heart of the matter: America’s profound anti-communism, and its access to Iran’s vast oil reserves, made Iran a vital strategic interest on the Cold War chessboard. Should Iran fall under the influence of Moscow—and Mossadegh did have some Communists in his government—then the interests of the United States would suffer. That’s how Washington saw it, anyway. It proved to be a short-sighted and grievously wrong calculation, however, as the interference of 1953 poisoned America’s reputation in the region ever after. Ms. Alexander wrote this essay in my HIST 2214 The Cold War class. Drawing on declassified documents from the National Security Archive at George Washington University, and also the excellent documents in the State Department’s series Foreign Relations of the United States, Ms. Alexander combs through official policy papers, intelligence reports, and memoranda about the coup, its origins, and its objectives. She develops an important thesis: that in history, big events are usually caused by multiple factors. She carefully parses the primary sources to develop a thesis that knits ideology and economic power together in a persuasive and lucid account of this sad chapter in US foreign policy. William I. Hitchcock William W. Corcoran Professor of History Director, Governing America in a Global Era University of Virginia Abstract This paper brings attention to the 1953 Iran Coup, an early example of US covert action in which the Central Intelligence Agency

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deliberately undermined the agency of a foreign government and installed an administration that would best serve US interests. Modern scholars of the Middle East debate US policymakers’ motivations for undertaking covert action in Iran, usually citing either the threat of Soviet communism or US oil-centric economic interests as a central reason for the coup’s execution. However, I argue that neither of these factors could have solely influenced the US decision to undertake a coup in Iran; rather, both the threat of communism and oil-related interests worked in tandem to motivate the US to overthrow Prime Minister Mohammed Mossadegh and reinstate Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlavi. My argument is organized into two main sections: firstly, to address US policymakers’ perceived threat of global communist advancement, I present major developments during the early Cold War period that help to contextualize US policymakers’ worldview and perspective towards the Middle East. These developments include various policy statements from the US and Soviet Union, the emerging bipolar global order, and the rise of Iran’s Tudeh Party. Secondly, I argue how economic interests guided US policymakers towards the Iran coup by citing Western countries’ increased dependence on oil in a post-WWII world, the nationalization of Iranian oil by Prime Minister Mossadegh, and the perceived domino effect of oil reserves in the Middle East if Iran were to become communist. To support my argument, I used recently declassified documents from the National Security Archives and Foreign Relations volumes. These primary sources allowed me to analyze memoranda, intelligence reports, conversations, and policy statements concerning the 1953 coup and develop an argument based directly on the language of these documents. I conclude by highlighting the importance of accounting for multiple historical factors when reviewing past events, and I stress that this same meticulous analysis of data should be used in determining appropriate diplomatic and political responses to current events. In July of 1953, Kermit Roosevelt, the Chief of the CIA’s Near East and Africa division, went to Tehran, Iran with instructions to overthrow the government of Mohammed Mossadegh, the democratically elected Iranian Prime Minister believed to be connected with communism and the Soviet Union. Although his first coup attempt on August 16, 1953, failed, Roosevelt’s second attempt three days later resulted in the successful ousting

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of Mossadegh and the reinstatement of Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlavi, a pro-Western monarchical ruler. This paper seeks to address the following questions: Why did the US overthrow Mossadegh? Was this use of covert action borne solely out of the bipolar Cold War narrative, or did some other unrelated force also factor into the decision to implement a coup? Modern scholarship tends to focus on either the US fear of communism or US economic interests as the primary reasons behind the 1953 Iran coup; however, through methodical analysis of recently declassified CIA documents, it is evident that these two factors cannot be separated from each other and must be understood as parallel narratives. For US policymakers, the possibility of a communist Iran would result in not only an economic loss for Western oil companies but also an ideological loss in the context of the bipolar, early Cold War. The establishment of a Communist government in Iran meant that the US would essentially concede power to the Soviet Union and acknowledge the shortcomings of democracy. Therefore, the US executed the 1953 Iran coup because of the early Cold War’s historical context, fears of Communist expansion into the Middle East, and domestic interests in Iranian oil. Before addressing the primary reasons for covert action in Iran, American foreign policy's basic tenets during the early Cold War must be understood. In 1945, at the end of WWII, the world faced an emerging ideological and geopolitical rivalry between the Soviet Union and the United States that would shape global development for the next four decades. Developments in US-Soviet relations between 1945 and 1952 played an important role in establishing historical precedents that US policymakers would invoke during the 1953 Iran coup. These developments included the institution of containment and rollback policies and the expansion of Soviet influence throughout China, Korea, and Eastern Europe. Firstly, in 1947, President Harry Truman promised that the United States would aid any foreign country that was “…resisting attempted subjugation by armed minorities or outside pressures” (Yale Law School 2008). This statement, known as the Truman Doctrine, advocated for a policy of containment--a strategy used by the United States throughout the Cold War to prevent Soviet geopolitical and ideological gains abroad. Moreover, the document positioned the US as the protectors of democracy for “the free peoples of the world” (Yale Law School 2008). Truman’s containment policy

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stemmed from the American fear of communism’s global spread, as voiced most influentially in George Kennan’s Long Telegram. Kennan claimed that the Soviet Union maintained a “neurotic view of world affairs” and was motivated by its global advancement of political power (Kennan 1946). Containment policy would later be used as an ideological justification for the 1953 Iran coup, as the US believed that communism posed an imminent danger to Iran. Additionally, while containment policy was central to the Truman administration and laid the foundation of US fear towards the spread of communism, President Dwight Eisenhower’s election in 1952 ushered in a new era of foreign policy characterized by communist “roll back.” As suggested in NSC-68, the US was to develop a hydrogen bomb and increase military expenditures domestically and abroad in order to “…support a firm policy intended to check and to roll back the Kremlin’s drive for world domination” (NSC 1950). Both the ideology of containment policy and NSC-68’s authorization of force to prohibit the expansion of communism were central to US foreign policy during the early Cold War and, by extension, in the lead-up to the 1953 Iran coup. US policymakers’ decision to pursue covert action in Iran must be viewed through the context of these two policies. Moreover, Soviet geopolitical gain throughout the world stoked US fears of communist encroachment on democracy. These gains include examples such as the US “loss” of China in 1949 to the Chinese Communist Party, initiation of the Korean War by the Soviet-backed Democratic People’s Republic of Korea in 1950, Soviet acquisition of territory in Eastern Europe, and the Berlin Blockade of 1948-1949. Framed by the overarching narrative conveyed by Kennan’s Long Telegram, all of these instances demonstrated the Soviet Union’s propensity for expansionism and their tactical, opportunistic approach to geopolitical gains (Kennan 1946). Taken together, these examples of expansionism constituted a broader pattern of Soviet behavior rooted in extending communism’s influence globally and curbing Western power. Thus, the historical precedents set by instances of Soviet expansion throughout the early Cold War became embedded in US policymakers’ collective memories of Soviet behavioral norms. This thereby contributed to growing fears that Third World countries would become the next satellites of the Soviet Union. Based on foreign policy precedents and context from the early Cold

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War, US policymakers saw the growing power of Iran’s Tudeh Party in the early 1950s and Iran’s development into a strategic foothold of power in the Middle East as possible precursors to a communist takeover. Formed in 1941, the Tudeh Party was a left-wing organization supported by Iranian laborers, intellectuals, and professionals; the party’s mission was to protect Iran from foreign intervention and encourage communist sentiments. Given the Tudeh Party’s associations with communism, the US perceived it as a threat to Iran and Western influence within the Middle East. To corroborate this claim, a document from the US Embassy in Iran detailed the friendly relationship developing between the Soviet Union and Tudeh Party; Soviets in Iran led demonstrations and displayed a vested interest in the party’s growth (Wagner 1951). The document stated that the “Soviets had already started to lay the organization which they undoubtedly hoped would eventually lead to their absorption of the northern areas,” meaning the establishment of a communist party that would allow the Soviet Union to later take control of Iran quickly (Wagner 1951). These observations fit the Cold War narrative previously established by the Truman Doctrine, NSC-68, and the collective memory of Soviet expansionism throughout the East. Iran appeared to be the next target of Soviet power. Adding to this growing fear of communist Iran, a 1952 memorandum from Kermit Roosevelt said the following: “In spite of its poor showing in the recent elections, which were rigged throughout the country, the Tudeh Party has been gaining strength, primarily by subversion. The majority of Iranians continue to be blind to the Tudeh’s development and threat; and the Government…takes no positive action against the Tudeh” (Roosevelt 1952). By using language like “subversion” and “threat,” Roosevelt presented the Tudeh Party as an organization in growing opposition to democracy, and consequently, the US. Furthermore, in July of 1952, Secretary of State Dean Acheson wrote that “the joining of forces by the National Front and the Tudeh Party” constituted a developing regional crisis (1952). The National Front backed Prime Minister Mossadegh, and although Mossadegh was not a communist, the Tudeh Party’s endorsement of his policies alerted US officials to the possibility of a communist revolution in Iran. From the US perspective, Mossadegh appeared to demonstrate sympathy with the Soviet Union. Secondly, the US viewed Iran as a strategic foothold of power in

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the Middle East, meaning whichever country held influence in Iran could extend this influence throughout the region. US policymakers feared that if Iran were to turn communist, the Soviet Union would gain access to the country, and ultimately, the Middle East as a whole. A document from the US Embassy in Iran detailed the many ways in which the Soviet Union was expanding its power throughout Iran, namely through trade as “a means of political infiltration,” the “use of psychological factors” to weaken Iran, the creation of spheres of influence in Iran, friendly relations with Iranian officials, and the Tudeh Party (Wagner 1951). These actions were viewed in the context of Soviet expansionism during the early Cold War and fit the narrative of the Soviet Union as a regime willing to use revolutionary tactics to secure geopolitical gains. Additionally, Donald Wilber’s summary of the coup said the following: “…it was estimated that Iran was in real danger of falling behind the Iron Curtain; if that happened, it would mean a victory for the Soviets in the Cold War and a major setback for the West in the Middle East” (Wilber 1954). This document suggested that Iran was not seen as an insignificant country; rather, whichever global superpower and associated ideology controlled Iran would have power throughout the rest of the region. A March 1951 draft of NSC 107 reflects a similar sentiment: “Iran is located in a key strategic position…If Iran should come under Soviet domination, the independence of all other countries of the Middle East would be threatened” (Staff of NSC 1951). Again, US policymakers acknowledged Iran’s importance as central to the protection of other democratic Middle Eastern countries. Both attempts at Soviet expansionism in Iran and the development of friendly relations between Mossadegh and the communist Tudeh Party were unacceptable to US policymakers. In response, US officials began to circulate ideas about how to undermine the National Front’s power or remove Mossadegh from power during July of 1952. A memorandum written to Secretary of State Acheson on July 29th, 1952, said the following: “we are considering…every possible alternative on our part to save Iran. This includes the probable position of the British and ourselves with the local tribes, which would be a big factor in any coup d’état type of action” (Byroade 1952). This document demonstrates how the US was willing to take any action necessary to prevent the loss of Iran to communism, largely because of Iran’s position as a potential strategic stronghold and the growing influence of the Tudeh Party

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in Mossadegh’s government. Next, to address the second primary motivation for US covert action in Iran--oil and economic interests--it is necessary to understand the global importance of oil products throughout the early 20th century. Oil was first discovered in 1908 in Iran by a British company that would later become the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company (AIOC). At this time, a series of corrupt shahs-remnants from the Qajar dynasty--comprised Iran’s main leadership. These rulers were desperate for money to support Iran, which was facing severe economic hardships, and consequently, sold the rights to drill for Iranian oil to the British. This agreement allowed the AIOC to take the vast majority of the revenues generated by Iranian oil and drastically increased the amount of oil available to Western countries (Westad 2019, 268). The increased supply of petroleum products led to a heavy reliance on oil to fuel WWI and WWII and subsequently left the Western post-war world dependent on fossil fuels to sustain modern life. As cited in NSC 138/1, the global demand for oil products doubled between the end of WWII and 1953 (Departments of State, Defense, Interior 1953). Additionally, oil was “…vital to the United States and the rest of the free world both in peace and war,” and Western countries were “…absolutely dependent upon a continuing abundance of this essential source of energy” (Departments of State, Defense, Interior, Justice 1953).

The importance of Middle Eastern oil reserves resided in the fundamental resource rivalries surrounding the Cold War.... Middle Eastern oil provided the means necessary to out-develop the opposing superpower. From the US perspective, losing oil reserves to a communist country was not an option, as this would be not only an economic loss but also a Cold War defeat. It is through this lens of global dependence that the importance of Iran as an oil-producing country must be viewed. The US and Soviet Union both required oil to fuel industrial development and modernization, resulting in increased attention towards Iran as not only a satellite of democracy or communism, respectively, but also as a cheap producer of natural resources.

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Iranian oil played a large role in influencing the US decision to undertake covert action. It impacted the development of the 1953 coup in two major ways: through Mossadegh’s nationalization of oil and through the perceived domino effect of Middle Eastern oil reserves. Firstly, Mohammed Mossadegh became prime minister of Iran in 1951 and nationalized the oil industry shortly thereafter in an effort to prevent the AIOC from exploiting the Iranian oil industry and to encourage negotiations for a more equitable oil settlement with the West. In response to nationalization, Britain blockaded Iran to prevent the exportation of any Iranian-produced oil and began planning for Mossadegh’s overthrow by calling on the US as an ally in favor of reinstating the shah (Wilber 1954). From US policymakers’ perspective, a threat to British oil was a threat to the Western oil supply altogether; the nationalization of Iranian oil placed strains on the oil supply to Western nations that were heavily dependent on the commodity for industrial growth. As mentioned in SIC 9750, 31% of Western Europe’s refined products and 16% of its crude oil was produced in Iran, and in Britain alone, 25% of its oil supply came from Iran (CIA 1951). Therefore, as stated in Donald Wilber’s comprehensive after-action report on the coup, US oil interests became a central motivation to the undertaking of covert action; Wilber wrote that “…the aim [of the coup] was to bring to power a government which would reach an equitable oil settlement…and which would vigorously prosecute the dangerously strong Communist Party,” (Wilber 1954). For the West, an “equitable oil settlement” meant British and US access to Iranian oil. Since Mossadegh prevented Western powers from maintaining control of Iran’s oil, nationalization significantly impacted US policymakers’ decisions to become involved in Iran. Moreover, Wilber also described the threat of communism as a related reason for planning the 1953 coup; oil nationalization and communism were not mutually exclusive problems. US policymakers believed that the nationalization crisis destabilized Mossadegh’s regime and made Iran more vulnerable to Soviet influence. The April 5, 1951 National Intelligence Estimate (NIE-6) stated that the destabilization caused by Mossadegh’s nationalization of oil “…might lead to the collapse of the present regime and the establishment of a completely anti-Western or even a Soviet-dominated government,” and later concluded that “…Iran has embarked on a course involving a loosening of its connections with the West and a guarded

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extension of its dealings with the USSR,” (Department of State et al. 1951). From the perspective of US policymakers, Iran appeared to be severing its ties with the Western world in favor of a closer relationship with the Soviet Union. About three months after the official nationalization of Iranian oil, NSC 107/2, written in June of 1951, stated that the loss of Iran would “… deny the free world access to Iranian oil and threaten the loss of Middle Eastern oil. These developments would seriously affect Western economic and military interests in peace or in war in view of the great dependence of Western Europe on Iranian oil” (NSC 1951). Again, this document highlighted the crucial nature of Iranian oil to Western lifestyles and further recommended that “the United States should be prepared in conjunction with the United Kingdom to counter possible communist subversion” through political and military actions (NSC 1951). Wilber’s documents, NIE-6, and NSC 107/2 all demonstrate how the Iran coup was not developed in response to solely communism or oil; rather, US fears were rooted in the possibility of a communist government with control over Iran’s oil industry, which would negatively impact Western oil supply. Concerning US fears of communism, the perceived domino effect of oil reserves in the Middle East impacted the US decision to undertake covert action in Iran. The domino effect refers to the idea that communism in one nation would lead to communist takeovers in other surrounding nations, ultimately resulting in swift geopolitical gains for pro-Soviet regimes. In the context of oil reserves, US policymakers believed that if the Soviet Union gained control over the Iranian oil industry, soon the Soviets would control all Middle Eastern oil. The importance of Middle Eastern oil reserves resided in the fundamental resource rivalries surrounding the Cold War. Since oil was used throughout the early 20th century as part of modernization, industrialization, and the buildup of military-industrial complexes, Middle Eastern oil provided the means necessary to out-develop the opposing superpower. From the US perspective, losing oil reserves to a communist country was not an option, as this would be not only an economic loss but also a Cold War defeat. As stated in NSC 138/1, “the oil companies are in a position of great influence upon our relations with the peoples and governments of these [Middle Eastern] countries. What they do and how they do it determines the

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strength of our ties with the Middle Eastern countries and our ability to resist Soviet expansion and influences in the area” (Departments of State, Defense, Interior 1953). This excerpt outlines how the Western oil presence in Iran provided the US with an advantage in preventing the spread of communism throughout the region, and therefore, a victory in the Middle East’s Cold War. The combination of losing Iran as a stronghold of power in the context of Cold War resource rivalries and the perceived domino effect of oil reserves that would take place with the installation of a pro-Soviet government, encouraged the US to take covert action in order to ensure their status and position within Iran. In conclusion, the evidence presented throughout this paper proves that the decision to overthrow Mohammed Mossadegh was influenced by early Cold War developments in US foreign policy--containment and rollback--as well as policymakers’ collective memory of Soviet expansionism from 1945 through the early 1950s. Additionally, growing fears of a communist Iran, due to its strategic location within the Middle East and the strength of Iran’s Tudeh Party, played a significant role in encouraging the US to overthrow Mossadegh. Lastly, the 1951 oil nationalization crisis and the threat of losing Middle Eastern oil reserves to pro-Soviet forces encouraged US policymakers to plan for the 1953 coup. Above all, the US decision to orchestrate the 1953 Iran coup demonstrated the importance of both Cold War rivalries and economic interests in shaping foreign policy decisions. History does not occur within a vacuum; arguments that claim the 1953 coup was a product of solely East-West ideological or geopolitical struggles do not accurately reflect US policymakers’ real concerns. Contrarily, arguments that use oil interests as the primary factor in determining Western behavior in Iran do not consider the broader implications of an ideological rivalry that pervaded nearly every aspect of US decision-making in this period or afford agency to political movements within Iran that shaped US perceptions. The argument presented throughout this paper provides a nuanced, comprehensive analysis of the many factors that motivated the US to overthrow Mossadegh. The macronarrative of the Cold War context and micro-narratives of oil nationalization and the rise of the Tudeh Party grew in tandem with each other and ultimately determined US involvement in the 1953 Iran coup.

Bibliography Acheson, Dean. 1952. “Memorandum for the Record by Secretary of State Acheson.” July 21, 1952, Foreign Relations of the United States, 19521954, Iran, 1951-1954, https://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/ frus1951-54Iran/d96. Byroade, Henry A. 1952. “Memorandum from the Assistant Secretary of State for Near Eastern, South Asian, and African Affairs (Byroade) to Secretary of State Acheson.” July 29, 1952, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1952-1954, Iran, 1951-1954, https://history.state.gov/ historicaldocuments/frus1951-54Iran/d101. Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). 1951. “Intelligence Memorandum Prepared in the Office of Current Intelligence, Directorate of Intelligence, Central Intelligence Agency.” July 11, 1951, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1952-1954, Iran, 1951-1954, https:// history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1951-54Iran/d39. Departments of State, Defense, and the Interior. 1953. “Report by the Departments of State, Defense, and the Interior.” January 6, 1953, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1952-1954, The Near and Middle East, volume IX, part 1, https://history.state.gov/ historicaldocuments/frus1952-54v09p1/d279. Departments of State, Defense, the Interior, and Justice. 1953. “Report to the National Security Council by the Departments of State, Defense, the Interior, and Justice.” January 6, 1953, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1952-1954, General: Economic and Political Matters, volume 1, part 2, https://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus195254v01p2/d159. Departments of State, the Army, the Navy, the Air Force, and the Joint Staff. 1951. “National Intelligence Estimate.” April 5, 1951, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1952-1954, Iran, 1951-1954, https:// history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1951-54Iran/d13. Gelvin, James L. 2016. The Modern Middle East: A History. New York: Oxford University Press. Kennan, George. 1946. “The Chargé in the Soviet Union (Kennan) to the Secretary of State.” February 22, 1946, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1946, Eastern Europe, the Soviet Union, volume VI, https://

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history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1946v06/d475. National Security Council (NSC). 1950. “A Report to the President Pursuant to the President’s Directive of January 31, 1950.” April 7, 1950, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1950, National Security Affairs; Foreign Economic Policy, volume I, https://history.state.gov/ historicaldocuments/frus1950v01/d85. National Security Council (NSC). 1951. “Statement of Policy Proposed by the National Security Council.” June 27, 1951, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1952-1954, Iran, 1951-1954, https://history.state. gov/historicaldocuments/frus1952-54v10/d32. Roosevelt, Kermit. 1952. “Memorandum from the Chief of the Near East and Africa Division, Directorate of Plans to the Chief of the Operations Division, Directorate of Plans, Central Intelligence Agency.” April 5, 1952, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1952-1954, Iran, 1951-1954, https://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus195154Iran/d71. Staff of the National Security Council (NSC). 1951. “Draft Statement of Policy Proposed by the National Security Council.” March 14, 1951, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1952-1954, Iran, 1951-1954, https://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1952-54v10/d7. Wagner, Joseph J. 1951. “Despatch from the Embassy in Iran to the Department of State.” February 23, 1951, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1952-1954, Iran, 1951-1954, https://history.state.gov/ historicaldocuments/frus1951-54Iran/d1. Westad, Odd Arne. 2019. The Cold War: A World History. New York: Basic Books. Wilber, Donald. 1954. “Overthrow of Premier Mossadeq in Iran, November 1952-August 1953: Summary.” National Security Archive, https:// nsarchive2.gwu.edu/NSAEBB/NSAEBB28/. Yale Law School. 2008. “President Harry S. Truman’s Address Before a Joint Session of Congress, March 12, 1947.” https://avalon.law.yale. edu/20th_century/trudoc.asp.

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Community Policing in Madhya Pradesh, India: A Case Study of Philosophy and Practice By Eli Smolen

About the Author Eli Smolen is a third year undergraduate student from Fairfax, Virginia, double majoring in Public Policy and Global Security & Justice. His academic interests include social equity, criminal justice reform, and conflict mitigation. In the Batten School, he serves as a member of the Batten Equity Collaborative and the Batten Undergraduate Council's Committee on Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion. Previously, Eli has worked as a research assistant in the Religion, Politics, and Conflict Lab, as a legislative aide for Speaker Filler-Corn of the Virginia House of Delegates and as a field organizer for the Dr. Cameron Webb Campaign for Congress. Forward We were very pleased to see that Eli Smolen’s paper, “Community Policing in Madhya Pradesh, India: A Case Study of Philosophy and Practice,” was accepted for publication by the Wilson Journal. Eli’s article emerged out of our respective classes in the Spring of 2020 (FORU 2500, Religion, Politics, and Conflict) and the Fall of 2020 (LPPS 3310, PoliceCommunity Relations: Problems and Prospects). As such, his paper was the product of a two semester-long collaboration where Eli designed and executed an independent research project pertinent to the principal areas of our two courses. Eli sought and leveraged the insights and expertise of others in seeking to gain a deeper level of appreciation and understanding of his focal topic – community policing in the context of Madhya Pradesh, India. In particular, he sought input from subject matter experts like Gary Cordner, PhD, former dean, an internationally respected police studies scholar,

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emeritus professor and the current Academic Director in the Education & Training Section for the Baltimore Police Department as well as Vineet Kapoor, PhD, a prior visiting professor at UVA and current Deputy Director of the Madya Pradesh Police Academy. Eli also immersed himself into reading relevant literature. The insights from these subject matter experts, coupled with a review of extant literature, resulted in a powerful case study that highlights the obstacles and opportunities of bringing theory into practice. Drawing upon democratic orientations of service delivery, inclusive of the co-creation of public policies and practices, coupled with the co-production of public services, Eli offers a “pracademic” framework that is dependent upon institutions that intentionally prioritize democratic principles and a community policing model. Eli’s article is a very strong one and can have an impact across divides. It addresses those within the academic community and those beyond. It speaks to policymakers, practitioners, the attentive public, as well as the more general public. As a case study, it highlights the obstacles and opportunities in the context of Madhya Pradesh, but offers implications for other settings and illuminates a path towards undergoing future research and exploring additional opportunities. We commend Eli for his hard work and are delighted that the Wilson Journal has included it for publication. Professors Peter Ochs and Brian N. Williams Department of Religious Studies and the Batten School of Leadership & Public Policy University of Virginia Abstract In light of the Covid-19 pandemic and growing concerns about the efficacy of policing systems, this article offers institutional considerations as well as a broader framework to address the discrepancy between policy objectives and implementation. Using the Madhya Pradesh, India community policing model as a case study, this article primarily investigates security deliverance. With the consideration of public administration theory, the article further contextualizes major policing legislation, The Madhya Pradesh Police Act of 2002 and the Community Policing Act of 2002, to provide concrete recommendations that address democratic orientation. Despite the

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incorporation of community members in the decision making process, the article concludes that Madhya Pradesh fails to consider co-production models throughout the policy cycle. Introduction “The police have a paramount obligation and duty to function according to the requirements of the Constitution, law and the democratic aspirations of the people. The functioning of the police requires it to be professional and service oriented and free from extraneous influences and yet accountable to the people.” – The Statement of Objects and Reasons, Madhya Pradesh Police Act of 2002 The passage above is an excerpt from the introduction of the Police Act of 2002. At present, the police force in the Indian state of Madhya Pradesh is primarily governed by the Police Act of 1861. In order to address changes in governance and security, the state of Madhya Pradesh enacted a supplemental policing bill, the Madhya Pradesh Police Act of 2002 (Ministry of Home Affairs n.d.). As the Police Act of 2002 recognizes, the police’s function in a democratically oriented state is to serve the people and provide security services for the state. Central to this introduction is the idea of accountability, the “aspirations of the people” (The Madhya Pradesh Police Vidheyak 2002, 4). In Madhya Pradesh, the actualization of the aforementioned text has proven to be challenging. In essence, the legal jargon that stipulates the police are to be accountable servants of the people necessitates a great deal of implementation and institutional considerations. In the paper to follow, I intend to explore the relevant frameworks and institutions that contribute to the security of Madhya Pradesh and evaluate their ability to ensure the successful actualization of the enumerated goals. This paper will act as a case study in order to further reflect on community policing and the associated themes of security and public service deliverance. Current literature understands community policing to be a function of philosophy and practice (Ward 2018). As such, this paper will first investigate the philosophy, or frameworks, at hand, then speak to the particular institutions and policies relevant to Madhya Pradesh. Ultimately, this paper intends to reflect on internal frameworks and institutions as it relates to outcomes on the ground. Compared to the larger study of

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community policing, this piece will address internal functions more than the particulars of outward-facing community engagement. Many scholars have narrowly focused on police culture, stating that on the ground engagement mirrors the internal culture of the police force (Rahr and Rice 2015). Building off this ideal, I inquire what dictates a department’s culture and what institutional factors may act in defiance to a healthy and service-oriented force. Ultimately, going beyond the legislation, I investigate what enables a department to be community-oriented.

As the Police Act of 2002 recognizes, the police’s function in a democratically oriented state is to serve the people and provide security services for the state. Central to this introduction is accountability, the “aspirations of the people” (The Madhya Pradesh Police Vidheyak 2002, 4). In Madhya Pradesh, the actualization of the aforementioned text has proven to be challenging. Considering full compliance is humanly impossible and the academic community has yet to identify the exact mechanisms that eliminate tensions between a police force and those that are policed, I don’t intend to critique the state of Madhya Pradesh. Instead, I hope to highlight the state’s failures in order to aid in the development of better systems. Furthermore, the COVID-19 pandemic has effectively reoriented the Madhya Pradesh police force, straining the existing institutions and demanding a larger reflection on human health and security deliverance. As tensions have risen, there have been a few notable and viral instances of police violence (Mathew and Venkatesan 2019). If the anecdotal evidence doesn’t suffice, we can look to the Madhya Pradesh Police Complaint Authority (PCA). Assuredly, these statistics don’t capture the full extent of community-police relations but they provide a glimpse into what the status quo may be. According to the PCA there have been 1,822 complaints filed between January 2016 and June 2018. Of those 1,822 reports, the PCA found 1,718 to be credible and worthy of further investigation (Mathew and Venkatesan 2019). Admittedly, these numbers seem favorable considering the population size and the amount of police encounters that occur. However, we can only assume that 1,822 is a

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fraction of the instances that merit further investigation. Furthermore, as I’ll note in the sections to follow, there are a host of community policing relevant policies that Madhya Pradesh has yet to implement. As noted, this piece intends to reflect on how to actualize the enumerated goals. Much of the literature suggests, however, that true implementation is incredibly difficult (Sabatier and Mazmanian 1979). Nonetheless, there are a few notable conditions that policy makers and bureaucrats may consider in order to maximize the congruence between policy objectives and implementation: 1. The program is based on a sound theory relating changes in group behavior to the achievement of the desired end-state (objectives). 2. The statute (or other basic policy decision) contains unambiguous policy directives and structures the implementation process so as to maximize the likelihood that target groups will perform as desired. 3. The leaders of the implementing agencies possess substantial managerial and political skill and are committed to statutory goals. 4. The program is actively supported by organized constituency groups and by a few key legislators (or the chief executive) throughout the implementation process, with the courts being neutral or supportive. 5. The relative priority of statutory objectives is not significantly undermined over time by the emergence of conflicting public policies or by changes in relevant socioeconomic conditions that undermine the statute's ‘technical’ theory or political support. As I discuss the philosophical foundations for community policing as well as the relevant practical institutions, it is important to consider the five conditions above (Sabatier and Mazmanian 1979). Philosophy: Community Policing Frameworks in the Context of Madhya Pradesh 1. Madhya Pradesh Police Act of 2002 In order to better understand the successes and failures of the relevant institutions and their ability to ensure actualization, this paper merits a discussion of intentionality. In the spirit of optimism, we are to understand the Madhya Pradesh Police Act of 2002 as a deliberate effort by legislators to incorporate democratic ideals into the Madhya Pradesh police force. As such, we can describe the text as an enunciation of goals. The following will

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highlight the relevant clauses and contextualize them amongst the broader frameworks of democratic policing. The first step towards a democratically oriented police force is the codification of democratic ideals. Thus, the Madhya Pradesh legislative body delineated the duties of the police and explicitly stated their orientation. Amongst the standard policing objectives, including “apprehending offenders” and “regulating traffic,” the Madhya Pradesh legislative body asserts that “officers shall engage in preventative measures” (The Madhya Pradesh Police Vidheyak 2002, 12). Although this can take many forms, the intention is clear and is an important consideration, acknowledging that security is more effective when it is proactive rather than reactive (Rahr and Rice 2015). This statement demonstrates that the Madhya Pradesh police force sincerely intends to make the state safer; although this intent may seem elementary, there are certainly other police-related policies that are less transparent with their intentions. The Act’s emphasis on “communication amongst other relevant agencies” underlines this desire for security and is a crucial component to a democratic police force (The Madhya Pradesh Police Vidheyak 2002, 12). By establishing a relationship with other community-oriented agencies, a police force can increase its capacity as well as decentralize the power to police (Ward 2018). Secondly, the text states--in perhaps the most resounding clause-that “officers shall safeguard minorities” and explicitly states that police officers have the duty to “prevent the harassment of women” (The Madhya Pradesh Police Vidheyak 2002, 12). By doing so, the state recognizes that some communities require more protection than others and indicates that the police force works for the advantaged and the disadvantaged alike. Again, this clause may seem intuitive but the importance of such a statement need not be understated. Similarly, the clause that follows states that “officers shall have strict regard to decency and gentleness” (The Madhya Pradesh Police Vidheyak 2002, 13). Here, the legislative body raises the standard for being an officer, stating that, as representatives of the state, officers are entrusted to treat everyone with “strict” respect and dignity (The Madhya Pradesh Police Vidheyak 2002, 13). Lastly, and by means of transition, I find Chapter 6’s clause that addresses the deputization of residents to be particularly relevant to this discussion. Here, we find allusions to co-production, an umbrella term that

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refers to when “citizens are directly involved in assisting public agencies with developing, implementing, and delivering vital public services” (Nabatchi, Alessandro, and Sicilia 2017). In regards to security services, co-production implies that the community is intrinsically involved with the security of the state. To follow, I will discuss a community policing bill that established the Village Defense Teams (Raksha Dal) and illuminates the work of the Neighborhood Committees (Mahala) and the Public Events Committees (Bandobast). Along with the deputization of residents, these procedural meetings are examples of co-production. 2. Community Policing Act of 2002 The Community Policing Act of 2002 establishes one of the most notable mechanisms of community policing in Madhya Pradesh. I offer this Act as evidence that the legislative body is actively implementing community policing techniques; however, as previously stated, the success and relevance of these techniques are undetermined and require the presence of corresponding institutional structures. The Village Defense teams (Raksha Dal) established by the Community Policing Act of 2002 are the most overt example of community policing and a prime example of co-delivery. Simply put, village defense teams are groups of citizens that have been tasked with typical police functions. Those that are selected by the Superintendent receive a certificate of enrollment detailing the assignment and authorizing individuals to act with the same powers, liabilities, privileges, and protections as a police officer. The Act adds that “due representation should be given to scheduled castes, scheduled tribes, women, and minorities” (Madhya Pradesh Gram Tatha Nagar Rakshta Dal Adhiniyan 2002). These groups are then led and trained by non-citizen officers and act in tandem with larger non-citizen police forces. As the line between citizen and non-citizen becomes less clear, there is a great deal of normative value that arises considering citizenship, democratic governance, accountability, and social capital (Ward 2018). The Neighborhood Committees (Mahala) and Public Events Committees (Bandobast) do not play a role in co-delivery but are relevant to other stages of the policy cycle, namely to designing, co-designing, assessment, and co-assessment. After a series of national inquiries in the late 1990s that evidenced biased policing practices, peace committees like the two mentioned

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above were implemented throughout India (Ministry of Home Affairs n.d.). In each locality, these committees are meant to bring a host of stakeholders together to comprehensively discuss security issues. As community members and representatives from the police physically convene to address their goals and grievances, the police have the ability to engage with and design policies particular to the community. Police then have the opportunity to assess and amend policies with community feedback. In Madhya Pradesh, these committees have been codified, with standardized leadership and facilitators. Additionally, each committee is mandated to include women and minorities (Madhya Pradesh Gram Tatha Nagar Rakshta Dal Adhiniyan 2002). The Neighborhood and Public Events Committees in place in Madhya Pradesh are a critical component of the state’s community policing model. Today, they serve as a template for police departments around the world and have been proven to be a useful case study for co-production and public service delivery. As mentioned, however, these committees are not a wholesale solution. Dialogue alone will not address the larger security, capacity, and delivery concerns. Ultimately, in regards to co-production, the state of Madhya Pradesh has employed valuable mechanisms to codesign, co-deliver, and co-assess. Co-commissioning, also referred to as co-prioritization or co-financing, is the process in which issues are identified and prioritized. This practice is not sufficiently present in the aforementioned cycle. (Nabatchi, Alessandro, and Sicilia 2017). Lastly, these frameworks of co-production should be implemented throughout the relevant institutions, like that of the judicial system, criminal justice system, and penal system. 3. Democratic Orientations of Service Delivery As we move into broader themes of public administration and democratic orientation, I begin with a framework related to hierarchies. Considering traditional police departments are structured similarly to a military, hierarchy, rank, and decorum are key tenets of most departments. Furthermore, many departments emphasize strict adherence to the rules and regulations in both practice and training. These principles, however, have proven to foster an environment of mistrust and encourage those with power to prey on those without it (Rahr and Rice 2015). In Madhya Pradesh, insubordination by a police officer may result in imprisonment of up to two years and/or a fine of up to two thousand rupees (The Madhya Pradesh Police

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Vidheyak 2002). Penalties such as these diminish an officer's ability to think critically and be reflective, both invaluable tools for democratic policing (Rahr and Rice 2015). In order to further recognize the importance of hierarchies and the chain of command, this discussion necessitates an understanding of basic Public Administration (PA) theory. Primarily, PA theory is explained in consideration of a unitary state, one in which authority is vested in the executive. As such, it takes a top-down orientation and is vertically integrated. Hierarchy is thus “the key governance mechanism for PA, with a focus upon vertical line management to ensure accountability for the use of public money” (Osborne 2010). This framework values typical business functions such as efficiency and zero-balance budgeting, most of which are not applicable to democratic policing and security deliverance. In contrast, New Public Governance theory considers a pluralistic state and stresses “trust, relational capital and relational contracts as the core governance mechanisms” (Osborne 2010). In order for the goals enumerated in the Madhya Pradesh Police Act of 2002 to be appropriately reflected in the police force, reverence for authority ultimately needs to be replaced by appreciation for peer input, adaptation, and reflection. These themes can be further realized in consideration of Ira Chaleff ’s concept of courageous followership. The notion of leadership is critical as we consider the institutional frameworks relevant to policing. Firstly, it is important to acknowledge the logistical demands of a public service system and preface the following by stating that quality leadership is certainly a necessity in police departments. With that being said, there is an abundance of evidence that indicates the need for a paradigm shift (Rahr and Rice 2015). To further apply the concepts of New Public Governance, police departments should emphasize institutional goals rather than the whims and wishes of an authority. To evidence the gravity of such an orientation I call on an introductory passage from Ira Chaleff ’s book The Courageous Follower: “By weaving the principle of accountable followership into our culture at every level, the fabric will become strong enough to resist the periodic attempts of individual leaders to emboss it with their own marital coat of arms.” Courageous followership may not be as dire as Chaleff presents it above (Chaleff 2009). Nevertheless, deconstructing the military complex that

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is overrepresented in policing requires the separation of individuals from the larger structure (Chaleff 2009). Commissioners, superintendents, and beat officers alike should be beholden to the larger goals. If we consider the goals enumerated by the Madhya Pradesh Police Act, officers in Madhya Pradesh should be answering to “the requirements of the Constitution, law and the democratic aspirations of the people” (The Madhya Pradesh Police Vidheyak 2002). Theoretically speaking, officers in Madhya Pradesh need not answer to their superiors to the same extent that they should adhere directly to the goals delineated in the Madhya Pradesh Police Act of 2002. Furthermore, officers in Madhya Pradesh must reevaluate their role as professionals and embrace the concept of hybridized professionalism (Williams, Brower, and Klay 2016). Traditionally, professionalism implies an elite, distinctive, insular, and self-defined community. Functionally, professions are recognized as knowledge systems consisting of problem-solvers to whom all others defer, that wield unabated authority and autonomy (Williams, Brower, and Klay 2016). These themes—the elite, insular, and authoritative— inherently contrast the intended goals. The community model that Madhya Pradesh intends to employ assumes that the community has knowledge that the professionals lack and contends that police and the public have a mutual right and responsibility to ensure public safety. Furthermore, community policing requires a reflective model of professionalism. This means that police professionals must mirror and be connected to the community. As such, the emphasis of change should move away from management level officers towards beat level officers who are to be understood as individual change agents (Williams, Brower, and Klay 2016). This is contrasted with the traditional model that emphasizes basic science, applied science, and skills or attitudinal components. Schon argues that police officers, however, are confronted with predicaments that do not reflect these traditional typologies and require reflection in action (Schon 1983). Thus, the source of learning should not come from traditional policing science but a process called double loop learning, which is defined as learning supplemented by feedback from the community (Williams, Brower, and Klay 2016). In Madhya Pradesh, the aforementioned committees are well suited to provide this feedback. This can also be understood as a transition from knowhow to learn-how philosophy (Schon 1983).

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Practice: Necessary Institutions for Community Policing In 2006, the Supreme Court of India issued a host of directives for police reform in order to increase objectivity, standardize administrative functions, and establish democratically oriented institutions, as ordered in the Court’s judgement in Prakash Singh and Others vs. Union of India in 2006. According to the Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative, an independent non-governmental organization dedicated to human rights in India, no state has successfully implemented all of the directives (Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative n.d.). Although Madhya Pradesh has made a concerted effort to comply with the Supreme Court’s ruling, it remains non-compliant with various aspects of it. In order to effectively implement a community policing model, Madhya Pradesh must continue to address the Supreme Court’s directives. In the paragraphs to follow, I will note Madhya Pradesh’s status for each directive and contextualize it within the field of community policy. The first directive calls for the establishment of a State Security Commission, an independent body that will draft policy and evaluate the performance of the police (Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative n.d.). This commission’s primary purpose is to act as a buffer between the legislature and the police, in order to ensure that the state government does not exercise unwarranted pressure on the police and to mitigate the possibility of corruption more broadly. Institutions that mediate the relationship between the police and legislators are common throughout the world and are codified in countries such as Australia, Canada, and the United Kingdom (Bayley and Stenning 2016). The United States does not have an analogous policy. In Madhya Pradesh, a State Security Commission has been established but there is no explicit mandate to ensure that those appointed are appropriately independent (Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative n.d.). In addition, the Madhya Pradesh Security Commission cannot issue binding recommendations nor is it required to produce an annual report. Without the codification of these two elements, the Madhya Pradesh’s Security Commission is relatively ineffective. Directive two stipulates how the Director General of Police, the executive officer, is to be selected (Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative n.d.). Madhya Pradesh has established a minimum tenure of two years and explicitly states the circumstances in which a Director General can be removed. Both of these policies enable the Director General to act

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independently and make decisions without fear of being wrongfully removed. With that said, the Supreme Court directive mandated that the Union Public Service Commission--the federal government's recruiting agency--create a shortlist for all states to choose their Director General (Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative n.d.). Madhya Pradesh does not require the Director General to be chosen from the Union Public Service Commission’s list and thus gives the state legislature full discretion over the candidate pool. This enables the legislature to continue to exert considerable influence over the appointment of the Director General. Directive three calls for similar legislation as directive two to be enacted to protect the positions of Inspector General, Deputy Inspector General, Superintendents, and Station House officers. Madhya Pradesh is fully compliant with this directive, stating that each of the aforementioned officers are entitled to a two-year term and can only be removed for extenuating circumstances. This directive does not require the Union Public Service Commission to create a short list (Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative n.d.). Directive four considers the separation of investigative functions from law-and-order functions. The Supreme Court stated in the court’s judgement in Prakash Singh and Others vs. Union of India that departments need to further specialize in order to make police work more efficient and to improve rapport with the community. Specialization is ultimately a function of the professionalization of police forces and can also be found in New Public Governance theory (Osborne 2010). Perhaps more importantly, specialization has practical implications for community policing as many departments phase out the traditional rotation of beat cops. A beat-the territory and time an officer patrols--can be an invaluable tool when considering community relations (Ward 2018). Simply put, officers should consistently engage with the same community at the same time and place in order to enable relationship building and utilize double loop learning. The Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative believes that Madhya Pradesh is not compliant with this directive as the state has not provided any details as to how the directive is to be implemented (Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative n.d.). Directive five mandates the implementation of a Police Establishment Board, consisting of the Director General and four additional

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senior officers (Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative n.d.). The Police Establishment Board is tasked with deciding transfers, promotions, and postings, as well as generally reviewing the functions of the police. The Board also functions as an appeal board for officers above the rank of Superintendent. These stipulations are to further ensure that the state government doesn’t interfere with police functions and are to formalize additional accountability processes. Madhya Pradesh’s Board does not act as an appeal forum and does not have the power to review police functions. While it does provide the necessary oversight considering transfers, promotions, and postings, Madhya Pradesh must further empower the Police Establishment Board. The sixth and final directive mandates the establishment of Police Complaint Authorities (PCA) at the state and district level (Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative n.d.). The director further stipulates that the Chairperson of the PCA should be a former judge and the other members should be selected from a shortlist provided by the State Human Rights Commission or the State Public Service Commission. This directive is particularly concerned with democratic policing and police accountability. It is important to note however that the PCA differs from the Citizen Review Boards (CRBs) that have come about in the United States. Primarily, PCAs are staffed by civil servants while CRBs are specifically intended to be composed of non-civil service members (Ward 2018). With that said, Madhya Pradesh is non-compliant with this directive and has only established PCAs at the district level (Commonwealth Human Rights Initiative n.d.). Furthermore, Madhya Pradesh has not codified how to select members or made PCA rulings binding. Madhya Pradesh’s failure to implement each stipulation of directive six is revelatory and may indicate a culture of impunity. Conclusion and Recommendations The Madhya Pradesh Act of 2002 and the correlated Community Policing Act of 2002 evidence legislative intent and an acknowledgement of the institutional factors relevant for a democratically-oriented force. Community policing is ultimately a function of both practice and philosophy, necessitating policy that influences internal culture as well as outward-facing service deliverance. By stipulating that the Madhya Pradesh police forces are to engage in preventative measures and leverage community partnerships,

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the Madhya Pradesh Act of 2002 provides the state with a philosophical backbone more aligned with the espoused democratic ideals. The Community Policing Act of 2002 actualizes the aforementioned themes by putting the co-production model into practice. This occurs mainly through deputization and the Village Defense Teams (Raksha Dal), Neighborhood Committees (Mahala), and the Public Events Committees (Bandobast). By acknowledging the philosophies and practices already in place, this paper can act as an examination of the next steps. Although Madhya Pradesh has implemented mechanisms that align with the co-production model on account of co-designing, co-delivering and co-assessing, Madhya Pradesh must further consider co-commissioning. The Neighborhood Committees and Public Events Committees may offer up a space for community members to express their priorities, but given its current orientation it remains too reactionary to be considered a co-commissioning mechanism. In regards to Public Administration theory and the larger service delivery process, policing in Madhya Pradesh has to undergo a considerable transformation. Assuredly, the philosophical orientation of a police force is the most difficult component to evaluate and effect. With that said, the present hierarchies and leadership styles are fair indicators of a department’s relationship with New Public Governance. Madhya Pradesh must continue to shift its approach to training and governance in order to mitigate the effects of vertical integration and enable low level officers to become individual change agents. This process is most likely to be affected by changes in officer training and may take decades to become tangible. The concept of professionalism is particularly difficult to transform and will require substantial changes in related socio-economic conditions. Furthermore, these frameworks must be accompanied by institutions that prioritize democratic principles and a community policing model. The aforementioned 2006 Supreme Court ruling detailed earlier outlined six directives that are to be considered the necessary precursors for an independent, accountable, and democratically oriented police force. Three of the six directives call for the establishment of new institutions, while the other three provide stipulations to ensure existing institutions function with impartiality and efficiency. The implementation of a Police Establishment Board and a Police Complaint Authority, the fifth and sixth directives

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respectively, have the greatest implications for community policing. Madhya Pradesh should implement a Police Establishment Board to formalize the process in which posting decisions are made and to institutionalize an internal system of accountability. To do so, additional stipulations need to be enacted that empower the Police Establishment Board to act as an internal appeals court as well as a general performance review board. In regards to PCAs, Madhya Pradesh has failed to establish institutional mechanisms that ensure officers are accountable to the public. Although some districts in Madhya Pradesh have implemented a PCA, each district must pass legislation that specifies how to choose the Chairperson and the other members. Additional legislation must also authorize PCAs to issue binding recommendations. Without the codification of these additional safeguards, PCAs are futile. The Indian state of Madhya Pradesh exemplifies the development of security deliverance and serves as an example of a context driven community policing model. Although the frameworks and policies discussed in this paper are not universally applicable, each and every community policing model should consider its philosophical orientation and the institutions necessary to actualize its stated goals. Furthermore, the actualization of community policing models has considerable implications for the policy cycle and evidences the disconnect between policy objectives and bureaucratic implementation. More broadly, as scholars continue to wrestle with issues of capacity and democratic orientation in public service delivery, we must further consider the congruence between philosophy and practice.

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