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174 THE US E OF F OR C E IN UN P EAC E OP ER ATIONS

tain Division received a warm welcome in Baledogle, including a symbolic
handover of weapons. Thereafter UNITAF forces moved inland into the areas
worst affected by famine. Full deployment was completed by 28 December, a
month ahead of schedule, reportedly facilitated by ‘the near absence of organ-
ized resistance, advanced political preparation in each of the sectors, the
formidable military reputation established by UNITAF, and tactical intelligence
provided by a special field intelligence detachment assigned to UNITAF, com-
bining civilian and military capabilities’.38

There were some relatively minor incidents in Mogadishu as various militias
tried to test UNITAF’s resolve. In mid-December three technicals opened fire
on patrolling US Marine helicopters on the outskirts of the city and were
immediately eliminated by Cobra helicopter gunships.39 Just after Christmas
helicopter gunships eliminated the weapons of the Murasade sub-clan which
had been shelling the north-eastern suburbs. On 7 January 1993 UNITAF acted
with substantial force for the first time, destroying a weapon storage compound
from which forces of Mohamed Farah Aideed (leader of the USC/SNA), despite
repeated warnings, had fired on Marine Corps patrols. Tanks, artillery and
Cobra helicopters were involved in a firefight lasting an hour, after which the
defenders fled.40 This temporarily put a stop to the widespread view that
UNITAF favoured the Aideed faction (caused in part by the collocation of UN,
US and Aideed headquarters in south Mogadishu).

Notwithstanding these incidents, UNITAF was able to fully deploy and begin
establishing a secure environment for the delivery of humanitarian supplies,
essentially without the use of force. It successfully escorted hundreds of long-
and short-haul convoys, accompanied food distribution and humanitarian
activities, undertook engineering works to improve roads and airports and dig
wells, provided management for ports and airfields, and supplied technical and
support services to the humanitarian community.41 Its overwhelming military
presence quickly broke the stranglehold that rival militias had over supply
routes, and ended the looting of humanitarian supplies and protection rackets.42

Protection of humanitarian agencies and NGOs

One issue which was never entirely resolved by UNITAF was the protection,
including through the use of force, of humanitarian relief organizations. Para-
doxically, in the first three months of UNITAF’s tenure, more aid agency
staff—both foreign and Somali—were killed than in the previous two years.43
In Mogadishu UNITAF was reluctant to respond to requests for site security or
emergency assistance. While relief organizations generally understood that

38 Hirsch and Oakley (note 7), p. 67.
39 Hirsch and Oakley (note 7), p. 81.
40 Durch (note 4), p. 324.
41 Kennedy, K. M., ‘The relationship between the military and humanitarian organizations in Operation
Restore Hope’, International Peacekeeping, vol. 3, no. 1 (spring 1996), pp. 101–102.
42 Patman, R. G., ‘The UN Operation in Somalia’, eds R. Thakur and C. A. Thayer, A Crisis of
Expectations: UN Peacekeeping in the 1990s (Westview Press: Boulder, Colo., 1995), p. 94.
43 Bryden, M., ‘Somalia: the wages of failure’, Current History, vol. 94, no. 591 (Apr. 1995), p. 148.

S OM ALIA: C R OS S ING THE M OGADIS HU LINE 175

permanent site security was impossible because of their number and because of
UNITAF’s other responsibilities, they were, as in Cambodia, ‘incredulous at the
reluctance of the military to respond when they were in trouble’.44 They saw
this as a natural part of the military’s mission to establish a ‘secure environ-
ment’. Oakley describes it as an ‘extremely complicated’ and ‘dangerous’
problem which UNITAF never resolved.45

UNITAF was particularly troubled about what to do about the heavily armed
private guards retained by most of the relief organizations before UNITAF’s
arrival. The military viewed them as unreliable and likely to complicate any
emergency response. In a number of cases UNITAF forcibly disarmed them,
making the agencies feel even more vulnerable and leading to protests from
NGOs and multilateral aid agencies about the effects on their security and the
inconsistencies in the policy.46 Eventually, in March 1993, UNITAF decided to
routinely respond to NGO emergency calls in Mogadishu after a major incident
at the headquarters of CARE (Cooperative for Assistance and Relief Every-
where) USA and the WFP, which had been blockaded and threatened by
Somalis claiming back wages.47 In contrast to Mogadishu, in the interior
UNITAF’s ‘security umbrella’ was routinely extended to humanitarian organ-
izations, including by dispatching emergency response units if they were
threatened and providing military guards for residences and warehouses. In
Baidoa Australian troops provided permanent security to 10 NGO or UN
agency locations, while in Jilib and Kismayo Belgian troops guarded 12 sites.48

Re-establishing law and order

UNITAF troops were also faced with the problem of using force in establishing
law and order more generally. This would normally be termed aid to the civil
power—except that in this case there was no established civil power. Initially,
despite rampant crime, UNITAF avoided adopting the role of a police force in
Mogadishu, recognizing the risk this posed to its relationship with the Somali
populace and the danger of becoming enmeshed in intra-Somalia conflicts. The
military focused rather on asserting its presence, providing convoy escorts and
force protection, reducing the level of violence generally, and preparing the
transition to the UN follow-on force.49

44 Kennedy (note 41), p. 105.
45 Hirsch and Oakley (note 7), p. 68.
46 United Nations Institute for Disarmament Research, Managing Arms in Peace Processes: Somalia
(UNIDIR: Geneva, 1995), p. 78. In mid-Jan. 1993 UNITAF responded by returning confiscated weapons
to the relief organizations pending the standardization of rules governing weapon confiscation. In Apr. it
issued a standard weapon policy card in English and Somali which ‘spelled out clearly in words and
pictures the few rules that governed who could possess a weapon, what weapons were prohibited, how
weapons could be carried, and what acts would result in confiscation of a weapon’. This cleared up most
of the confusion. Lorenz, F. M. (Col), ‘Law and anarchy in Somalia’, Parameters: US Army War College
Quarterly, vol. 23, no. 4 (winter 1993/94), p. 32.
47 Kennedy (note 41), p. 105.
48 Kennedy (note 41), p. 104.
49 Kennedy (note 41), p. 104.

176 THE US E OF F OR C E IN UN P EAC E OP ER ATIONS

One of the most challenging problems in maintaining law and order con-
cerned the use of proportionate force, short of deadly force, against low-level
threats. Somalis quickly learned that, despite giving verbal warnings and
making shows of force, US soldiers would not shoot at children throwing rocks
or swarming over vehicles to steal equipment. This led to injuries to soldiers,
frustration and inappropriate actions such as throwing rocks back.50 Although
the use of riot control agents was considered several times, it was never author-
ized. Soldiers eventually discovered alternatives, including tent pegs, batons,
sticks and cayenne pepper spray to repel unarmed Somalis who harassed them.
Cayenne pepper became such an effective tool that by the end of the operation
the troops found that simply waving a can in the air was enough to warn
Somalis off.51 There were two problems with this: first, the troops’ fear of
inappropriate use led to delay in requesting permission to obtain and use it; and,
second, some soldiers became even more hesitant to use force in appropriate
circumstances because cayenne pepper was available. Marines perceived
cayenne as a substitute for, rather than a complement to, the use of deadly force.

After much delay, the UN and UNITAF agreed to establish an interim Somali
police force of retired Somali police officers in an attempt to establish a
modicum of law and order. They were issued with light weapons for protection
of police stations and use in joint patrols with UNITAF in dangerous areas. A
UNITAF unit was stationed at each police station in Mogadishu to provide
communications, logistics, psychological and, if necessary, military support.
John Hirsch and Robert Oakley report, somewhat optimistically, that this
enabled the Somali police to ‘stand up to’ the factions.52

Outside Mogadishu, non-US troops took a more proactive role in
re-establishing law and order, using vastly different methods. Unlike US troops,
who moved around only in trucks, usually surrounded by an impressive show of
force, the French troops in Bakool province gave the impression of being at
ease in their environment, which was similar to that of their previous assign-
ment in Djibouti, and ‘ready to fight on the enemy’s terms if the need arose but
friendly enough to be open to verbal contact if fighting could be avoided’.53
Gérard Prunier claims that the French Foreign Legionnaires’ ‘authoritarian and
yet “nativist” flavor’ corresponded more closely to Somali expectations than
‘the mixture of subsidized democratization offered by the UN—which was
supported by massive US overkill capacity and involved little rapport with the
natives’.54 Ironically, the French troops were dubbed ‘trigger-happy’ by the US
command after they killed two Somali fighters and wounded seven on a truck
which tried to break through a roadblock.

In Baidoa the Australian troops, from the moment they arrived in January
1993, reportedly established ‘a furious pace of aggressive patrolling and asser-

50 Dworken (note 22), p. 30.
51 Dworken (note 22), p. 30.
52 Hirsch and Oakley (note 7), p. 90, fn. 4.
53 Prunier, G., ‘The experience of the European armies in Operation Restore Hope’, eds Clarke and
Herbst (note 10), p. 140.
54 Prunier (note 53), p. 141.

S OM ALIA: C R OS S ING THE M OGADIS HU LINE 177

tion’, assisted by APCs.55 They appear to have had no problem ‘disposing of’ or
arresting ‘bandits’ in their area of operation, and they also re-established the
local police force and legal system, including jails and courts. They described
their mission as ‘applying the military strategy appropriate in a low intensity
conflict or peace enforcement environment with long term national rehabilita-
tion in mind’.56 This was said to draw on ‘a rich vein of received wisdom’ in the
Australian Army deriving from involvement in counter-insurgency or guerrilla
warfare in Viet Nam and Malaya, which Australia felt ‘bore a close relationship
to the situation in Somalia’.57 An International Herald Tribune editorial
claimed that: ‘By comparison [with US troops], Australian peacekeepers oper-
ating with more restraint and impartiality were notably more successful in
pacifying Baidoa’.58 While this may be unfair, given that Mogadishu was the
centre of power in Somalia while Baidoa was a backwater, there is an element
of truth in it. Martin Ganzglass contrasts the Australian contingent’s fully-
fledged civil affairs programme, which it regarded as essential for restoring
security in its area, with the US view of such efforts as mission creep.59

Enforced disarmament

Inextricably linked to the law-and-order problem was the question of disarm-
ament. Despite continual urging by Boutros-Ghali, the pressure of humanitarian
NGOs and the expectations of many Somalis, including clan leaders, UNITAF
did not attempt systematic and comprehensive disarmament using force or the
threat of force. As Boutros-Ghali pointedly noted, the US command interpreted
the establishment of a ‘secure environment’ to mean the securing of ports, air-
ports, warehouses, feeding centres and roads in order to ensure the unimpeded
delivery of relief supplies, not the disarmament of armed gangs or the
confiscation of heavy weapons.

The US forces made ‘extraordinary efforts’ to avoid involvement in disarm-
ament of any kind.60 Initially, they focused on reducing the visibility of
weapons, especially technicals, on the streets of Mogadishu by attempting to
stop them being brandished or used when US troops were present and if
necessary confiscating them—although soldiers were permitted to exercise per-

55 ‘Report by Australia to the Comprehensive Seminar on Lessons-Learned from United Nations
Operation in Somalia (UNOSOM)’, Plainsboro, N.J., 13–15 Sep. 1995, p. 5.

56 ‘Report by Australia’ (note 55), p. 4.
57 ‘Report by Australia’ (note 55). Differences in approach to the law-and-order issue stemmed partly
from different assessments of UNITAF’s rights and obligations under international law. Australia argued
that the presence of foreign troops in Somalia was governed by the 1949 Fourth Geneva Convention,
which implied that they should restore and maintain public order, since there was no Somali government.
The view of the UNITAF command was that, since UNITAF was a humanitarian rather than a military
operation, it could not be considered an army of occupation and therefore could not be held legally
responsible for the health, safety and welfare of the Somali people. Lorenz (note 46), p. 35.
58 ‘Learn how to peacekeep’, editorial, International Herald Tribune, 25 Oct. 1994, p. 4.
59 Martin R. Ganzglass, comments in World View, vol. 8, no. 2 (spring 1995), p. 3. Attorney Ganzglass
prepared a report for UNOSOM on the Somali Penal Code.
60 Lyons, T. and Samatur, A. I., Somalia: State Collapse, Multilateral Intervention, and Strategies for
Political Reconstruction, Brookings Occasional Papers (Brookings Institution: Washington, DC, 1995),
p. 41.

178 THE US E OF F OR C E IN UN P EAC E OP ER ATIONS

sonal judgement in each case. Normally no use of force was necessary, the
threat of the heavily armed US troops being sufficient. Such efforts began as
part of attempts to create security zones around US facilities, but invariably
spread beyond them. While small arms were initially ignored, they too were
increasingly confiscated when necessary.

There was some confusion between the weapon confiscation policy and the
ROE, especially since the former changed during the mission, while the latter
did not. While the ROE stated that armed individuals ‘could’ be challenged, the
mission’s disarmament policy at times said they ‘should’.61 Moreover, the right
to use ‘all necessary force’ in relation to confiscating weapons and demilitar-
izing militias was confusing. Johnston decided that it did not mean ‘shoot on
sight’ and directed commanders rather to challenge and approach the technicals
to seek their voluntary surrender, using all necessary force only if this did not
work.62 Paradoxically, UNITAF probably initially disarmed more merchants
and private guards of relief agencies than militiamen, who simply hid their
weapons or moved them temporarily out of town.

Increasingly and inevitably, however, UNITAF became involved in what can
only be described as enforced disarmament in Mogadishu, albeit limited and
piecemeal. While its forces seized arms caches reported or discovered in their
area of operations, relying on tips and random sweeps, they did not conduct
systematic searches of houses or vehicles. Even this policy was not applied
consistently. On one occasion US Marines withdrew on finding an arms cache
of heavy weapons belonging to a close ally of Aideed.

Outside Mogadishu non-US contingents developed their own approach to dis-
armament, but none except the Belgian troops used much force. The French
troops, deployed in the relatively safe Bakool province that they had requested,
took a ‘very minimal, close-to-the-ground, down-to-earth approach’, albeit
somewhat improvised, ‘without bothering too much to check it with the UN’.63
Patrolling at night in small groups on foot, they conducted surprise confisca-
tions before the locals realized that disarmament was not official policy. After
initially rebuking the French troops for exceeding their mandate,64 the UNITAF
command later reportedly let them know that it would look the other way
‘provided they did not boast too much about it’.65 The Belgian troops were the
most successful at disarmament and managed to create a ‘weapon-free’
environment in Kismayo, but this was heavily dependent on intimidation rather
than cooperation and it collapsed as soon as they withdrew.66 The Australian
and Canadian troops also conducted extensive patrolling in their sectors in
order to seize technicals and arms caches in remote locations.67

61 Dworken (note 22), p. 32.
62 Allard (note 16), pp. 36–37.
63 Prunier (note 53), p. 139.
64 Patman (note 42), p. 95.
65 Prunier (note 53), p. 139.
66 Chopra, Eknes and Nordbø (note 8), pp. 44–45.
67 Hirsch and Oakley (note 7), p. 74.

S OM ALIA: C R OS S ING THE M OGADIS HU LINE 179

Despite its reluctance to enforce disarmament without agreement with the
factions, UNITAF announced at an early stage that it would enforce any volun-
tary agreement by the factions to canton their heavy weapons.68 Presumably this
meant using force to prevent cantoned weapons being removed, rather than
using force to achieve cantonment in the first place. Negotiations conducted by
Oakley succeeded in producing, only days after UNITAF’s arrival, the
11 December Seven-Point Agreement between Ali Mahdi Mohamed and
Aideed which provided for the withdrawal of heavy weapons from city streets
into designated cantons.69 However, it took until 26 December for both sides to
begin the process and even then it was only patchily implemented. UNITAF
declined to use force to achieve implementation.

There were two further efforts at negotiated disarmament of heavy weapons
which were equally unsuccessful. First, on 8 January 1993, in Addis Ababa,
Ethiopia, 15 Somali factions signed an Agreement on Implementing the Cease-
fire and on Modalities of Disarmament.70 The process was to begin immediately
and, totally unrealistically, was expected to be completed in March. In mid-
February 1993 Ali Mahdi Mohamed did in fact turn over all his cantoned
technicals to UNITAF. Aideed’s technicals, however, quietly disappeared from
their cantons to points unknown, outside Mogadishu. Hirsch and Oakley
explain that it seemed unnecessary to confront Aideed over this so long as the
weapons posed no threat to UNITAF or humanitarian operations and UNITAF
was able to confiscate weapons found in the course of its operations without
setting off a firefight.71 This happened occasionally in Mogadishu, Baidoa and
elsewhere, but Aideed always disowned those involved as ‘bandits’. By late
February, as more of his weapons caches were discovered and either removed
or placed under guard in accordance with the Addis Ababa Agreement, Aideed
was complaining that UNITAF was favouring Ali Mahdi Mohamed.

Second, on 27 March the same 15 Somali factions which had signed the
Addis Ababa Agreement met there again in the Conference on National Recon-
ciliation in Somalia.72 They reaffirmed their commitment to disarmament under
UN supervision and declared that June would now be the target date. Ironically,
in view of what was to follow, they practically invited peace enforcement
against themselves by urging UNITAF/UNOSOM to ‘apply strong and effect-

68 Hirsch and Oakley (note 7), p. 105.
69 Africa Watch, vol. 5, no. 2 (7 Mar. 1993), p. 6; and Hirsch and Oakley (note 7), p. 58.
70 United Nations, Progress report of the Secretary-General on the situation in Somalia, including
annexes containing the texts of the agreements reached by the Somali factions in Addis Ababa from 4 to
15 January 1993, UN document S/25168, 26 Jan. 1993, annex III, Agreement on implementing the cease-
fire and on modalities of disarmament (supplement to the General Agreement signed in Addis Ababa on
8 January 1993). It called for a verifiable, country-wide ceasefire supervised by a UNITAF/UNOSOM
monitoring group; the surrender of all heavy weapons to the group; the encampment of militias at ‘appro-
priate areas outside major towns where they would ‘not pose difficulties for peace’; the simultaneous
disarmament of all factions throughout Somalia; and the disarming and reintegration into society of all
other ‘armed elements’.
71 Hirsch and Oakley (note 7), p. 59.
72 The Addis Ababa Agreement, concluded at the first session of the Conference on National Recon-
ciliation in Somalia, 27 Mar. 1993, reproduced in The United Nations and Somalia 1992–1996 (note 1),
pp. 264–66.