I was in South Sudan as a researcher with an international non-governmental organization trying to answer a not-so-simple question: How do communities stay resilient in the face of violent conflict and humanitarian crises, especially when they can’t rely on authorities?
The old man speaking with me had reason to worry. The intensity of violence in his area had subsided in recent years, but the threat was always there. Meanwhile, poverty was always present. The market day saw small sacks of groundnuts traded for a few bundles of wilted kale but not much else.
The good news is that many communities find a way. After dozens of interviews and focus groups with over 700 people in South Sudan, Burundi, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Myanmar, I had pages of notes. They documented how everyday people engage in local peace building and problem-solving in the midst of broader conflicts.
The bad news is that communities struggling with poverty and violence are far more common than we like to acknowledge. They also aren’t confined to remote regions in “other” parts of the world.
Still, we rarely ask NGOs — or researchers like me — to try to understand why many of our own towns and cities in the United States and elsewhere are also beset by cycles of violence and poverty. Nor do we take time to identify the “pockets of peace” that could provide a foundation for strengthening our communities.
It’s true that conflict, crime, and terrorism constitute different types of violence. But there are more parallels between them than we might assume. Research shows that gangs and extremist groups have similar dynamics. Those include how they recruit (by exploiting vulnerabilities) and justify violence (by activating ideologies). Many armed militias are not that different, mobilizing loyalties around political and ethnic identities.
The commonalities of conflict
Many theories exist about what motivates violence, but three stand out as having particular relevance across these diverse contexts. First is the issue of threat perception. If people feel threatened or become convinced that they should feel threatened, it becomes easy to convince them to do things they wouldn’t otherwise do.
A second motivation, related to the first, is “othering,” or creating an us vs. them dynamic between identity groups based on ethnic, religious, racial, political, class-based, or other differences. Group distinction may reflect a natural human instinct. But it also occurs when elites exploit genuine grievances or vulnerabilities and frame an out-group as the source of threat.
A third motivation involves people turning to (or being recruited by) violent groups if they are convinced that official institutions or authorities cannot or will not protect them. In these situations, even individuals who do not personally join armed groups often feel pressured to rely on them for protection.
These motivations are further facilitated by access to arms. The Small Arms Survey indicates that over one billion arms are currently in circulation worldwide. Only two percent is in the hands of law enforcement. As such, “disarmament” in conflict areas faces similar challenges to gun buyback programs in places like the U.S.. The sheer number of arms in circulation leads to less incentive for individuals or groups to hand in their weapons. People feel they are at risk of being left “defenseless” when others don’t follow suit. In South Sudan, for example, rebel groups were reluctant to disarm because they assumed the state would keep arming its allied militias.
Pockets of peace
During my fieldwork, I heard much about “pockets of peace,” or community-led initiatives to prevent violence and improve living conditions.
“It’s easy to move with a gun.“
Village Chief, South Sudan
In South Sudan, for example, I met with “peace committee” members who aim to resolve local disputes around land, water, and debts before they escalate into violence. In Burundi, I heard from everyday community members who were trained to diffuse interpersonal conflicts and find compromise solutions. While in the DRC, I spoke with young men — some former child soldiers — who had formed a motorbike co-op as a sustainable form of income. I spoke with young female widows who had started a farming collective to build back their lives after conflict.
Initiatives like these are becoming best-practice models in the international development sector. But Americans can learn from them, too. Indeed, many similar “pockets of peace” exist in U.S. cities, offering safe havens or alternatives to violence.
For example, in Chicago CRED, former gang member Curtis Toler now oversees a team of two dozen gang-violence “interrupters.” In New York, the Save Our Streets (SOS) program in the South Bronx reduced gun victimization by over 60 percent. In Washington, D.C., members of the Guardian Angels serve as night-time conflict de-fusers in metro stations and high-crime areas.
Hyperlocal problem solving
Success from such initiatives is not automatic. From my work in central Africa, it’s clear that interventions were most effective when they were community-led. They often focus on hyper-local problem-solving. The local-level emphasis of community initiatives can be challenging for those (including myself) who seek broader transformational changes, whether in conflict areas or our own cities. But in reality, focusing on resolving interpersonal or local-level disputes can prevent resolvable conflicts from escalating.
At the same time, institutional backstops can help. Those could be local courts in South Sudan, the local police in DRC, or the local administration in Burundi. Similarly, in the U.S., many community-based violence interrupter programs liaise with authorities. For example, Baltimore’s Roca program partners with law enforcement, juvenile justice agencies, and social services. It can be challenging to balance necessary engagement with authorities and legitimizing what may be seen as oppressive actors. Yet individuals or agencies within broader systems often seek to engage with communities on common goals of development and violence prevention.
It is also clear that such initiatives struggle in contexts where basic needs are unmet, as poverty reduction and violence prevention reinforce each other. As one villager in Burundi commented, “If there is no peace, there is no development,” and the reverse is also likely true.
Opportunities for livelihoods and a sense of place and purpose can help make individuals, especially youth, less susceptible to recruitment by armed groups, gangs, militias, or extremist organizations, wherever they may be. Having basic needs met — food, water, housing, and healthcare — can prevent individuals and communities from being exploited while facilitating better social and institutional trust.
Community development can be a highly pragmatic form of violence prevention at home or abroad. I went to Africa to identify replicable models to share with NGO partners. But the “pockets of peace” I observed offered ideas and inspiration that extend well beyond the villages I visited, challenging us to apply those same lessons closer to home.
Julie M. Norman is an associate professor of politics and international relations at the University College London.
