A lesson in education from girl soldiers

Below is a piece I wrote for another forum. It takes in child soldiers, poverty, inequality, the Millennium Development Goals, and how a reconstituted idea of education might tackle such issues.

Nelson Mandela (c) South Africa The Good News

“I was never an important person in my family but since I started the training and started working on friends’ hair at home and now making a little money to help my family, everyone now calls me ‘Aunty Mamy’; they listen to me now”.

This is how a 15 year old girl, and former child soldier from Liberia, has put her views on earning a living. For her, and others like her, her identity - and feelings of respect, independence and self-esteem - hinges on her earning power. 

Education helps many children achieve their potential across the world. But for child soldiers, education may serve as a reminder to what has gone on before, defining who they are, “Teachers are very judgemental of us on the basis of what we were involved in” . 

Nelson Mandela stated that “education is the most powerful weapon we can use to change the world”. Mandela was fighting an ideological war against apartheid and its institutionalised, racist educational system, when he made this statement; it is of its place and time. Rather than seeing education as a linear constant, taught in a top-down fashion, we need to look beyond Mandela's words to understand what education might mean, and for whom.

Nations such as Sierra Leone do not go war because of a lack of education. The Truth and Reconciliation Committee for Sierra Leone found that “it was years of bad governance, endemic corruption and the denial of basic human rights that created the deplorable conditions that made conflict inevitable”. Although this omits other factors, such as the unequal globalised economic playing field in which it was operating, Sierra Leone used to have a strong, well-run educational system.  It was not for want of education that Sierra Leone became one of the poorest countries. 

Key to Graca Machel’s landmark 1996 UN report “The impact of armed conflict on children” was education. It was envisaged as a primary component of the U.N.’s Disarmament, Demobilisation and Reintegration (DDR) programmes in the reconstruction of post-conflict nations. 

Whilst the International Labour Office (ILO) report that many Liberian girl soldiers were happy to go back to school after disarmament and demobilisation, they were ill-prepared for what they encountered at the end of it – a lack of opportunities and jobs (sound familiar?). Consequently, girl soldiers resort to relying on a man to support them,  reinforcing stereotypical patriarchal views of women as dependant on men. 

Older Liberian students (c) USAID

"I was living with my commander [female] after the war. Then I got involved with this exfighter. I wanted to go to disarm but I became pregnant. I wanted to be with him so I didn’t go anymore. Now I’m living with him. I’m not going to school because I’m pregnant". 

Having a child alters girls soldiers' perception of themselves simply because being a mum is socially significant. In a battle between their multiple identities (girl v. soldier v. mum v. member of community etc.), many girls choose motherhood ahead of education because education does not afford them the same sense of self-worth, or equality with others.

"Most of my friends don’t know that I was fighting. I like to keep it that way. People don’t like ex-fighters. After the war I went living with my aunt, only she knows, but for the rest I don’t want them to know. If they know and something bad happens they will point at me, saying I did it". 

Stigmatisation, and a fear of stigmatisation, has been a major problem for DDR programmes. Just 4.2% of girl soldiers accessed DDR packages in Sierra Leone. But why should girls return to education when it offers little economic security and further gender insecurity?

If Western-structured education is failing children in DDR programmes globally, failing children of our former colonies, and yes, even failing our children in the UK, then perhaps we need to consider whether we are delivering the right type of education. 

Michael Wessels, a psychologist and professor at Columbia University says: 

“We don’t always do a very good job of listening to young people,”...“One of the questions that comes up in regard to girls is: Have we taken adequate time to understand what the girls’ view of reintegration is?”...

...“The goal is to put the power in the hands of girls; to have them go through a process wherein they organize themselves, define what reintegration means to them; ask what’s missing, and then design small actions and steps”...

This perspective places the emphasis on a bottom-up approach, by taking into account how a reintegration programme affects those it is supposed to help. As these girls' experiences are uniquely individual, future DDR programmes should reflect this diversity. In consultation with those running these programmes, girls can then use their own definitions of successful reintegration. 

Given its central role in reintegration, education might benefit from a similar re-think. Let us listen to the children we teach, and find out what they think about their educational systems. Let us understand how their lives outside of the classroom affects their learning, so that a future education takes on board the fact that we are all different. Children can then measure and define their own educational progress, alongside their teachers. 

Education may be the most powerful weapon we can use to change the world. We just have to harness its power, and tailor it so that everyone benefits from it. We can still meet the Millennium Development Goals for poverty and gender inequality, as long we learn from the lessons of girl soldiers.

The UK, Malawi and understanding aid

Andrew Mitchell (c) acumenimages

The bilateral relationship between the UK and Malawi took a further blow last week, when the Secretary of State for International Development, Andrew Mitchell, announced that the UK were withholding £19m worth of aid from the government of Malawi. A Department for International Development (DfID) press release stated the following concerns:

“On governance, demonstrations have been suppressed, civil society organisations intimidated, and an Injunctions Bill passed that would make it easier for the Government to place restrictions on opponents without legal challenge. 

On the economy, the UK is concerned that Malawi’s overvalued exchange rate has created chronic foreign exchange shortages which are having a serious impact on the Malawian private sector’s ability to drive future growth. There are now daily fuel queues, tobacco exports have deteriorated and Malawi is off-track with its IMF programme.”

Relations have been worsening over the last couple of years. The Guardian reports that in 2009, the UK withdrew £3m worth of aid after the government of Malawi purchased a presidential jet worth more than £8m. Earlier this year, the British High Commissioner to Malawi was expelled following the leak of a diplomatic cable to the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO). The note criticised Malawi's president Bingu wa Mutharika as "ever more autocratic and intolerant of criticism". At the time, the FCO suggested that there would be consequences for declaring their man “persona non grata”.

On the surface, the reasons given for the withdrawal of aid appear hypocritical. Whilst the government claims that it is in the interests of the UK taxpayer, we can not exactly hold ourselves up as shining beacons of governance and economic management. On governance, UK state institutions suppress demonstrations (e.g. “kettling” of children during student protests) and intimidate civil society organisations such as trade unions (e.g. sorry, News International/Wapping dispute). On the economy…need I write anything.

Although the UK will continue to provide aid to Malawi through other donors, budget support is used to help governments deliver their own national strategies for reducing poverty. The context and background to the announcement on the removal of budget support raises questions about what aid means and in whose interest aid is provided.

From a dominant western perspective, aid appears to be linked to ideas of human rights. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights came into force in 1948. Drafted by government representatives from the more powerful Western nations, there were only 51 recognised nation states that signed this document. Africa and swathes of Asia were not yet independent and remained under colonial rule. Western notions of human rights prioritise ideas of civil and political rights above economic, social and cultural rights. In terms of aid, this assumes that westernised ideals of “good governance” will bring about economic and social development, and so, reductions in poverty and improvements in education and health. This has a knock-on effect of empowering the purpose of the work of aid agencies; they become adjuncts of the state with their own agendas and quests for funding.

(c) Khym54

Following an audit of DfID Malawi in 2009, the National Audit Office (NAO) commissioned a review to establish greater evidence of impact, value for money and efficiency savings. DfID’s review on the impact of the heath Sector-Wide Approach (SWAp) in Malawi is the sort of project that they were supporting until funding was cut last week. This 2010 report was limited to being a desk-bound study, which seems to have frustrated its author; further studies were taking place that could have provided greater in-depth evidence as to its impact, which would have saved the government, and UK taxpayer, money.

Some of the key messages to come from this report are:

“Assessing impact and attribution pose particular problems. It is not possible to attribute results achieved to DFID support or the SWAp.” 

“Good progress has certainly been made during the SWAp period, although Malawi is unlikely to achieve the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) health targets.” 

“Improvements in terms of outputs – whether in terms of service coverage or the implementation of reforms - have been made. However, the picture is mixed and huge challenges still remain.” 

“Some progress has been made in terms of key reforms – stronger in some areas than others e.g. decentralisation - whilst progress has been much weaker in terms of pharmaceutical supply.” 

“The government is spending far more than was initially expected on health in absolute terms - though it has fallen a little behind in its commitment to the Abuja Declaration (to allocate 15% of the national budget to health) - and recent years have seen some drop-off.” 

“There is a further question as to whether a SWAp should actually have to show impact.”

From an UK government view, these findings appear to indicate that traditional ideas of aid are working to some extent. But is it possible to quantify what price one should place on these improvements?

Whilst there may governance problems in Malawi, we are going to fund projects in countries that are conflict-ridden and "fragile", including Bangladesh, Somalia, Sudan and Zimbabwe. If we aid only these states, then we are not offering aid in the traditional altruistic sense. Instead, we are funding our own security.

The Africa Research Institute produces a series of “counterpoints” that reflect locally-constructed ideas of Africa. In Voices of Disquiet on the Malawian Airwaves, the author highlights the importance of the state-funded Malawi Broadcasting Corporation’s (MBC) radio programme, Nkhani Zam’maboma, to its people.

Attracting several million listeners, this programme exposes everyday economic injustices experienced by Malawians. Using local idioms to bring grievances to life, they are also used as a means of expressing their displeasure at authority. The author notes foreign donors and human rights activists take little note of Nkhani Zam’maboma, ostensibly because it is broadcast in the national language, Chichewa, which few foreigners speak. He also notes that human rights campaigners have often condemned MBC as being a propagandist tool of the government. The author considers this an unreasonable assumption, as it supposes that all the journalists working there are fuelled by the patronage of the government. Furthermore, he suggests that Malawians listen to state-sponsored stories critically, and that human rights groups do not take this into account.

Culturally, there is no direct translation of human rights. In Chichewan it corresponds to “birth freedom”. After studying 500 stories that had been broadcast, the author queried why there was a lack of human rights issues on the programme. The editors retorted that “they are NGOs’ things”.

This highlights the cultural differences that exist in human rights, and aid, discourse. It also exposes the iniquitous power divide that separates the rich nations from the poor. Globally, the west continues to define, and re-imagine, what aid is. For governments, donors and activists remain crucial to the delivery of human rights and aid. They bring it to those in need. Yet, it is a western version of human rights and aid that is imposed on them, and not something that reflects local injustices. Despite the centrality of equality in human rights discourse, the relationship between donor and recipient is not equal.

One might argue that UK aid to Malawi has been working in its traditional, charitable connotation. However, the UK has redefined aid to suit its own agenda. That said, the delivery of aid in its current format may well not be economically sound, but, not for the reasons given by DfID. If we are to take human rights issues, and aid, seriously, then we need to unravel earlier assumptions of human rights, and re-imagine a global system that fully addresses the cultural understandings of the less powerful.