Following the Provisional Irish Republican Army’s 1994 ceasefire, observers of Basque politics began asking, “Where is the Basque Gerry Adams?” The Sinn Fein president, after all, was widely seen as having persuaded the ira to end its armed campaign for Irish unification. Why had no figure with Adams’s charisma emerged on the Basque scene? Eventually a candidate for the Basque Adams appeared: Arnaldo Otegi, the affable spokesperson for Batasuna, the separatist party allied with the armed group Basque Homeland and Freedom, better known as eta. Moderate Basque nationalists and Spanish constitutionalists, however, saw Otegi as a powerless mouthpiece for eta. Patxi Lopez, the secretary-general of the Basque wing of the Spanish Socialist Party, insisted that Otegi was no “Basque Gerry Adams” as he lacked the “pull” over eta that Adams wielded over the ira [El Correo Oct. 14, 2006].
Lopez’s “pull” comment aptly describes what Gerry Adams possessed and what Arnaldo Otegi lacked: direct organizational influence over armed allies. Whereas Adams was widely believed to have wielded such influence through his position on the ira Army Council, which directed both the ira and Sinn Fein, Otegi, though a former member of eta, had little direct influence over the armed group. The ira’s disengagement was thus a product not of charisma, but rather of the authority and credibility that inter-organizational centralization provided Adams and his allies in their efforts to end armed conflict in Ireland. Movement decentralization, on the other hand, doomed the Basque separatist movement’s efforts to replicate the Irish success, as its leaders were never able to become credible interlocutors capable of speaking for eta as Gerry Adams had spoken for the ira.
What impact does the inter-organizational structure of politico-military movementsFootnote 1 have on insurgent peacemaking efforts? In particular, what impact do (1) centralized inter-organizational leadership structures and (2) the organizational capacity of politicos to influence the decision-making of armed groups have on the initiation, maintenance, and ultimate success of peace processes? Comparing the Irish and Basque experiences, I show that centralization shapes insurgent peacemaking in two ways. First, centralized leadership structures allow for effective coordination between the movement’s military and political wings, fostering escalated political activity alongside military inactivity. Silencing the guns allows political leaders to make deals with opponents and convince supporters that nonviolence is essential to realizing movement goals. Second, centralized authority structures in which political leaders directly influence the armed group’s decision-making make these leaders credible interlocutors in peace talks. If this influence is widely known, opponents will see deals struck with the party as deals made with the army. Direct links with “terrorists” may taint leaders politically, but organizational ties nevertheless provide them with credibility in peacemaking. Thus, centralization contributes to effective peacemaking through two intervening mechanisms: coordination and credibility.
The Irish and Basque experiences highlight different ways that movement structures shape peace efforts. In the Irish case, I examine how the centralization of movement authority under the Army Council, on which Sinn Fein leaders held seats, enabled Gerry Adams and his allies to contain schism within the republican movement during the transition to nonviolent politics. Additionally, republican leaders authorized intra-movement violence to enforce commitment throughout the peace process, allowing these leaders to forcefully demonstrate their own credibility. In the Basque case, the radical separatist movement’s decentralized structures have created persistent coordination and credibility problems in peacemaking. The political wing’s gains have been continually undone by eta’s unilateral breaking of ceasefires. eta’s veto power over peace ultimately prevented political allies from establishing themselves as credible interlocutors. With each broken ceasefire, the movement was doubly discredited: the political wing, having demonstrated no control over eta, was discredited as an interlocutor; while eta’s chronic reneging discredited the organization in the eyes of opponents, rivals, and eventually even allies.
This article is organized into three parts. First, I examine the relationship between inter-organizational centralization and peacemaking, drawing from social movement studies and the analysis of civil war cessation. I argue that movement centralization provides effective mechanisms for coordinating the activity of the movement’s two wings during peace processes while enabling political leaders to demonstrate their credibility as peacemakers. Second, I explore how movement centralization permitted Sinn Fein leaders and the ira Army Council to contain schism, often by using intra-movement violence to enforce the peace, thereby bolstering their own credibility. Third, I consider the negative impact that movement decentralization has had on Basque separatist peace efforts, creating persistent coordination failures and preventing the political wing from establishing itself as a credible interlocutor. I conclude this paper by briefly considering the credibility of the British and Spanish states and the interaction between state and insurgent credibility in determining the outcomes of peace processes.
Centralization, coordination, and credibility
Theoretical insights about the relationship between movement centralization and peacemaking can be gleaned from two clusters of scholarship: studies of the relationship between social movement structures and political effectiveness; and analyses of the problem of credible commitments in civil war cessation. Building on both literatures I argue, first, that centralized politico-military movements are best suited for peacemaking as centralization facilitates effective coordination between wings during peace efforts, expanding political action alongside military inaction. Second, I argue that centralized authority structures in which insurgent politicos wield direct influence over armed allies provide political leaders with credibility as negotiating partners capable of making agreements in the name of armed groups. Centralization facilitates peacemaking through the interaction of these two mechanisms, coordination and credibility.
Sociologists have long argued that modern social movements have become increasingly bureaucratic, professionalized, and centralized as part of the broader rationalization of society [McCarthy and Zald Reference McCarthy and Zald1973, Reference McCarthy and Zald1977; Tilly Reference Tilly1978, Reference Tilly2004; DiMaggio and Powell Reference DiMaggio and Powell1983]. As the state centralized, challengers followed suit; streamlining decision-making, enforcing solidarity, and coordinating action by centralizing authority. According to Michels [1968 [1915]], “the anti-democratic centralization of power in the hands of a few is no more than a tactical method adopted to effect the speedier overthrow of the adversary” [366]. While shaped by external forces, centralization is nevertheless a strategic decision that can be modified or reversed depending on political opportunities and militant preference [Zald and Ash Reference Zald and Ash1966; Jenkins Reference Jenkins1983]. There is thus no “iron law” of movement centralization.
Centralized authority structures have been associated with political effectiveness and organizational reproduction, particularly for movements that have grand transformative ambitions. Centralization facilitates rationalized decision-making, recruitment under adverse conditions, and movement coordination over time and across locales [Barkan Reference Barkan1979; Staggenborg Reference Staggenborg1988]. Centralized decision-making may also be an effective way to temper internal conflict and factionalism [Zald and Ash Reference Zald and Ash1966; Gamson Reference Gamson1975]. Centralization is particularly important during periods of movement inactivity or political irrelevance [Taylor Reference Taylor1989]; and for insurgent “combat parties” that require permanent mobilization [Lenin Reference Lenin1970 [1902]; Selznick Reference Selznick1952].
There are drawbacks to centralization which may make decentralization a more attractive option. Rigid hierarchies often prevent movements from recognizing and seizing opportunities. Decentralized structures, on the other hand, may allow subgroups to tailor tactics to local environments and take initiatives of which a distant leadership may be unaware (Useem and Zald Reference Useem and Zald1982; Zald and Denton Reference Zald, Denton, Zald and McCarthy1987; Kleidman and Rochon Reference Kleidman, Rochon, Rochon and Meyer1997]. Competition among autonomous rivals can also produce tactical innovations, expanded mobilization, and ultimately greater political effectiveness (Piven and Cloward Reference Piven and Cloward1977; Jenkins and Eckert Reference Jenkins and Eckert1986]. Furthermore, by allowing individuals to participate directly in decision-making, decentralized structures may deepen militant commitment [Poletta Reference Polletta2012]. Finally, decentralized movements may prove more resistant to repression, as police have no organizational core to target [Gerlach and Hines Reference Gerlach and Hines1970].
But the possible advantages of decentralization are far from unambiguous. “Participatory democracy” is a cumbersome form of decision-making that can lead to factionalism and political inertia. Though some have argued that decentralization prevents schism through greater participation, others claim that centralized authority is better suited to quelling internal dissent and enforcing solidarity [Gamson Reference Gamson1975; Useem and Zald 1987]. Additionally, while competition among allies may produce innovation, it can also encourage inopportune actions that provoke widespread repression, particularly when tactics transgress legal and moral boundaries. Furthermore, decentralization may produce demobilization, as intra-movement competition and radicalization alienate both potential and longtime supporters [Tarrow and della Porta 1987; della Porta 1995].
This article examines the impact of authority structures on political effectiveness in a specific context: a politico-military movement’s attempt to initiate, maintain, and ensure the ultimate success of peace processes. In such cases, centralized modes of control are best suited to ensuring the coordination of political and military activities. Peace processes often require that the political wing expand activity into institutional arena long foresworn and in cooperation with forces long considered the enemy. Mobilization may also induce intransigent governments and parties into engagement. Insurgents may thus need to attract new supporters, fence-sitters who support movement goals but not armed struggle. To accomplish such tasks, violence must be controlled and ceasefires maintained—which can prove difficult in the absence of centralized authority structures. Additionally, centralized structures assist in managing failed peace efforts, giving the political wing the opportunity to devise a post-ceasefire strategy. Movement centralization thus contributes not only to individual peace efforts considered separately, but to the long-term peace process as a whole.
In addition to facilitating coordination between wings, inter-organizational centralization is essential for establishing insurgent credibility in peacemaking. The problem of credible commitments has been highlighted by scholars as a barrier to ending civil wars and implementing peace settlements [Fearon Reference Fearon1994, Reference Fearon1995; Walter Reference Walter1997, Reference Walter1999, Reference Walter2002; Hoddie and Hartzel Reference Hoddie and Hartzell A.2003; Hartzel and Hoddie 2007; Fearon and Laitin 2007]. This problem centers on trust: given the legacy of violence, opponents have little reason to believe their enemy’s newfound commitment to peace. Without effective enforcement mechanisms, each side doubts the other’s credibility and sincerity. Even when tentative deals are reached, mistrust of the enemy’s commitment may make preemptive reneging a rational strategy.
Much of this literature focuses on state commitment to peace processes and the implementation of settlements. The state, given its greater coercive capacity and ability to absorb insurgent violence, may be more inclined to renege [Fearon 1997; Walter Reference Walter1999]. But insurgents also have reason to renege—and do so often. As Zartman [Reference Zartman and Licklider1993] argues, while the state has multiple commitments, insurgents are singularly committed to the struggle’s perpetuation. Commitment to the struggle does not necessarily entail commitment to violence: some militants may see transforming the struggle as essential to its perpetuation. Others, however, may be committed to armed activity, if simply to keep the struggle’s flame alive. Animated by this ethic of pure conviction [Weber [1920] Reference Weber2009), dissident militants may use violence to undermine peace processes. Thus peace-seeking insurgents must often manage or contain “spoiler” violence [Stedman Reference Stedman1997; Kydd and Walter Reference Kydd and Walter2002; Duyvesteyn and Schuurman Reference Duyvesteyn and Schuurman2011]. But, managing dissidence, even violently, demonstrates insurgent leaders’ commitment to peace. Finally, clandestine armed groups, i.e. “terrorists”, are often constructed as inherently, even irrationally, committed to violence [Zulaika and Douglass Reference Zulaika and Douglass1996; Jackson Reference Jackson2005]. Convincing hostile audiences of one’s newfound desire for peace is therefore a daunting task. Commitment to violence is thus both a source of intra-movement tension and an image problem for politico-military movements.
The problem of credible commitments may be seen as a problem of communicating credibility. Walter [Reference Walter2009] argues that information asymmetries drive uncertainty regarding insurgent commitment. Given secrecy and security needs, armed groups obscure their organization and hide information about operatives and operations—contributing to uncertainty regarding insurgent commitment to peace and the capacity of leaders to facilitate disengagement. Governments may have only the armed group’s reputation for reneging in past peace efforts as a metric for assessing its commitment [Addison and Murshed Reference Addison and Murshed2001]. Broken truces discredit armed groups, thus making future negotiations difficult. Beyond sticking to ceasefires, armed groups are constrained in communicating commitment. Thus, they often turn to their movement allies to publically communicate this desire for peace.
The literature on credible commitments, however, has largely ignored the role of allied political wings in establishing the credibility of armed groups. This oversight stems largely from two factors. First, the analysis of credible commitments suffers from the unitary actor problem common to the broader study of political violence. Conflicts are simplified into “two-party” phenomenon, exclusively militarized struggles that pit the unitary state against the unitary rebels [Cunningham Reference Cunningham2011: 13]. While such an approach may be useful in analyzing civil wars in which armies are the dominant actors, it is less well suited to low-level violent conflicts in which parties and civil society groups retain political agency and influence. Indeed, the tensions and conflicts among armed and unarmed movement allies are especially important for the resolution of violent conflicts [Richards 2001; Neumann Reference Neumann2003; Pettyjohn Reference Pettyjohn2009; Duduoet Reference Dudouet2010]. Peace processes in such contexts entail a transfer of agency from armed groups to political allies, rather than the transformation of armies into parties. This transference is not an outcome of peace processes, but rather a prolonged struggle within movements that often extends beyond a single peacemaking effort.
Second, the nature of low-level violent conflicts gives rise to a complexity in negotiation for which the simplified “bargaining” framework common to most analyses of credible commitments [Walter Reference Walter2009] is not well suited. In low-level conflicts, negotiations often involve actors other than armed groups—and indeed may not even involve them at all. During the Irish process, the ira limited its involvement to discussions surrounding decommissioning in line with agreements made by Sinn Fein. In the Basque case, “two-track” negotiations have been devised in which talks over political issues involved only political parties, while “technical” talks between eta and the state focused solely on the group’s disbandment. In such negotiations, the credibility of both armed groups and their unarmed allies is problematized. In order for the political wing to effectively participate in talks, it must demonstrate credibility, which is grounded in its control of or influence over the armed group. Can insurgent politicos ensure and enforce their armed allies’ commitment to peace? This is a crucial question for governments and parties considering engagement with insurgent political wings, tainted as they are by their association with “terrorists”. It is, perhaps ironically, the strength of movement leaders’ ties to armed groups that establishes their credibility as peacemakers.
This article examines the role that movement centralization has played in establishing the effectiveness and credibility of insurgent political leaders in peace processes. In the Irish case, Sinn Fein President Gerry Adams and his allies on the ira Army Council used their inter-organizational control and influence to transform the republican movement, while containing schism and dissident violence throughout the peace process. By wielding such centralized control, the Adams clique was able to convince opponents that they were credible interlocutors. In the Basque case, movement decentralization prevented the political wing from becoming a protagonist in peace efforts. Despite multilateral agreements reached and procedural victories won by movement allies, eta remained in complete control of the process, unilaterally ending ceasefires in 1999 and 2007.Footnote 2 Resuming violence not only solidified eta’s reputation for reneging, but also demonstrated the limited influence that politicos wielded over their armed allies—thereby discrediting both wings of the movement.
Irish republican centralization and credible peacemaking
Having situated my argument in the literatures on movement centralization and credible commitments, I now turn to the Irish case. I show how the republican movement’s centralization under the control of the ira Army Council, on which Sinn Fein leaders held seats, facilitated effective engagement in peacemaking. I begin by examining the structure of the ira and the republican movement in terms of both formal and practical centralization. Second, I consider how Gerry Adams and his allies used the Army Council as an organizational weapon to purge Sinn Fein of its purist old guard and to spur the movement’s transformation. Third, I examine how the Adams clique unilaterally laid the groundwork for the peace process prior to bringing the rest of the Army Council on board. Fourth, I examine how the Army Council managed the emergence of “dissident republican” violence following the ira’s 1997 ceasefire. Finally, I consider the role of ira vigilantism in the transition from armed struggle to civilian politics.
The centralization of the republican movement
The structure of the Provisional ira had two forms. There was its “official” structure, represented in the ira Constitution and the organization charts of security experts. The actual organization of the IRA, on the other hand, was more fluid: centralized, yet allowing individual cells some operational autonomy. Authority was similarly doubly structured. On paper, the ira was defined by a militaristic form of democratic centralization. The ira Constitution vested supreme authority in the General Convention comprised of the group’s cadres, which was tasked with electing the twelve-person Army Executive that in turn appointed the seven-person Army Council, whose sole responsibility was to direct the armed struggle. Though the General Convention was officially the final authority of the Provisional ira, in practice the Army Council directed the organization, as only three Army Conventions were held between 1969 and 1998 [Moloney Reference Moloney2002: 378].
This dual form permeated the entire organization. The ira was comprised of specialized “departments” operating within a chain of command extending throughout Ireland. Officially, General Headquarters in Dublin oversaw the armed activity of the Northern Command and the auxiliary functions of the Southern Command in the Republic of Ireland. In practice, however, the ira was dominated and directed by Northerners, particularly on the Army Council. Additionally, personal relationships between the Army Council and the Northern Command bypassed Dublin, further facilitating Northern control over the ira [Horgan and Taylor Reference Horgan and Taylor1997].
The Army Council was the final authority over both the ira and its political wing, Sinn Fein. The Council controlled Sinn Fein in three ways. First, ira members routinely held simultaneous membership in Sinn Fein and were often ordered to organize local party committees and electoral campaigns [Bean Reference Bean2007: 117]. Second, Sinn Fein and the ira were linked in Northern Ireland through the “civil administration” wing of the armed group that policed urban areas where local Sinn Fein offices liaised between aggrieved Catholics and ira vigilantes [Silke Reference Silke1999]. Third, centralized control over the party was wielded directly through party leaders such as Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness who reputedly held seats on the Army Council. Though Adams’s membership in the ira remains a contentious issue, McGuinness’s more public positions on the Army Council and in Sinn Fein made him an ideal contact for the British government during the early 1990s [Clarke and Johnston Reference Clarke and Johnston2001: 254]. Centralized control by the Army Council did not, however, entail army direction of the party. In fact, the success of republican peacemaking had much to do with the control wielded over both the party and the army by Sinn Fein leaders through their positions on the Army Council.
The Army Council’s control over both wings of the movement, coupled with the general influence that Sinn Fein leaders wielded through the Council itself, enabled Gerry Adams and his allies to successfully navigate the peace process from the initiation of Sinn Fein contacts with opponents in the late 1980s to the present. On the one hand, the Army Council enforced ira ceasefires—the 1996-1997 resumption of violence notwithstanding—allowing Sinn Fein to expand political activities. On the other hand, the centralized authority of the Army Council provided Sinn Fein leaders with credibility as interlocutors. Though publicly identified as party leaders, their reputation as ira commanders made them essential negotiating partners. An agreement struck with the party was thus an agreement with the army.
The purging of the old guard
Though long a pillars of republican orthodoxy, abstentionism and the refusal to take seats in the Irish parliamentFootnote 3 were by the 1980s seen as obstacles to movement expansion in the Republic of Ireland. The Adams clique in particular believed that taking seats in Dublin would increase Sinn Fein’s appeal and provide republican influence within the Irish Government [McKittrick and McVea Reference McKittrick and McVea2002: 168]. In their effort to end abstentionism, Sinn Fein leaders came into conflict with the dogmatic old guard that had founded the Provisional ira and Sinn Fein, for whom abstentionism was as inviolable a republican principle as armed struggle.
The Adams clique enlisted the Army Council to overcome purist obstructionism in transforming the party. In early 1986, an Army Convention was hastily convened to address abstentionism—which was ira as well as Sinn Fein policy. During the Convention, Adams and his allies argued that ending abstentionism was a military matter and that an Irish government dependent on Sinn Fein’s support would likely ignore ira logistical activities within the Republic. Ultimately, 75% of the Convention approved the policy change [Moloney Reference Moloney2002: 292-293]. The ira’s abandonment of abstentionism all but ensured that the party would follow suit—though the old guard remained an obstacle.
In preparation for the subsequent Sinn Fein convention that year, the Army Council mobilized the party and army to ensure the old guard’s defeat. Sinn Fein leaders pressured southern branches of the party to support an end to abstentionism, sending militants from Belfast to observe local debates [White Reference White2006: 301-302]. Attendance at the 1986 convention swelled compared to previous years, enormously benefitting the Adams clique. In 1985, party members voted 181-161 against merely bringing abstentionism up for debate; in 1986, the policy was rejected by a vote of 429-161 [Moloney Reference Moloney2002: 297]. These new attendees included IRA members and recently released prisoners under orders to vote the Council’s line.
The leadership was largely successful in its effort to determine the convention’s outcome, persuading the party to abandon one of the core pillars of republicanism. More importantly, schism was contained. Former Sinn Fein president Ruairí Ó Brádaigh and vice president Dáithí Ó Conaill, founders of the Provisional movement, defected with a handful of followers to form Republican Sinn Fein, along with its military wing, the Continuity ira—though the latter did not announce its existence until the 1994 ceasefire for fear of Provisional reprisals [Sanders Reference Sanders2011: 147]. Neither group gained a wide following in Northern Ireland due to their outdated political ideology and focus on Dublin, thus posing no threat to Provisional leaders [Moloney Reference Moloney2002: 289].
The rejection of abstentionism demonstrated the authority that Adams and his allies wielded within the movement. The purging of Sinn Fein’s old guard, furthermore, consolidated the Adams clique’s control over both wings of Provisional republicanism. Adams’s growing authority was especially noted in Northern Ireland by the moderate nationalist Social Democratic Labour Party (SDLP) and by the Irish government, both of which were making initial steps towards engagement with Sinn Fein. With this demonstration, Adams’s credibility as an interlocutor was strengthened, though doubts remained as to whether he and his allies could sell peace to the rest of the Army Council—and thus to the broader movement.
The army council and the peace initiative
The Irish peace process of the 1990s developed largely through the clandestine activities of the Adams clique behind the backs of the “soldiers” on the Army Council. Though republican history had proven the fractiousness of peacemaking, the events of 1986 indicated that there was sufficient support on the Council for the development of unarmed politics, if not for the transformation of the conflict itself. The next step was to build alliances with moderate Irish nationalists to pressure the British government to include Sinn Fein in future peace talks. Though cautiously supportive of a pan-nationalist peace strategy, the sdlp and the Irish government demanded an ira ceasefire as a precondition for official engagement with Sinn Fein. As Adams and his associates negotiated the terms of this ceasefire, much of the Army Council remained entirely out of the loop [Moloney Reference Moloney2002: 249]. Having ascended through their opposition to the founding leadership’s disastrous 1975-76 ira ceasefire, the Adams clique was wary of movement fracturing; thus they carefully established the groundwork for a pan-nationalist alliance prior to bringing the ceasefire proposal to the Army Council. As Adams claimed, “We at the leadership level [of Sinn Fein] put together what I call the package. And then, if and when we got the package, the ira had to take the decision” [Mallie and McKittrick Reference Mallie and McKittrick2001: 164]. Moving too quickly could have torpedoed the entire peace initiative by splitting the movement.
It was not immediately clear if Adams’s newfound pragmatism was shared by his more militaristic colleagues on the Army Council. In 1990, the British government reopened a long dormant link to respected “hard man” Martin McGuinness to discover whether Adams’s pragmatism was shared by the Army Council [English Reference English2008: 267].Footnote 4 Future Secretary of State for Northern Ireland Patrick Mayhew claimed that these contacts were purely exploratory: “The question was whether these people were generals in an opposing force in military terms, or whether they had truly recognized that a military approach was not going to get them what they wanted, and they were now going to try to lead their followers down a political road” [Mallie and McKittrick Reference Mallie and McKittrick2001: 78]. McGuinness, second-in-command on the Army Council and vice-president of Sinn Fein, was thus an ideal contact for the British—though he insisted he represented only Sinn Fein, not the ira [Hennesey Reference Hennessey2000: 70]. Regardless of his official status, McGuinness’s role in the link insured that the Adams clique controlled this line of communication alongside those maintained by Adams himself.
Given its concern with movement unity, the Adams clique initiated these secret contacts and exploratory talks with cautious confidence that the Army Council would ultimately support the effort. Maintaining movement unity and centralized control were essential to the peace strategy: the “permanent leadership” of the Army Council that facilitated movement expansion in the 1980s would be essential for peacemaking in the 1990s, especially if Sinn Fein were to take the lead. Army Council authorization was also effective in ensuring rank-and-file commitment to the peace process. In future all-party talks, Adams and McGuinness would derive credibility from their reputed positions on the Army Council, as well as in Sinn Fein.
Maintaining unity against the dissidents
As with the 1994 ceasefire, the 1997 ira ceasefire was arranged by the Army Council without Army Executive approval. The recent election of Tony Blair’s Labour Government convinced the Council that another ceasefire could force Sinn Fein’s inclusion into all-party peace talks. Within the ira, key changes—the promotion of pro-Adams commanders and newfound support from hardliners within the Belfast Brigade, the largest unit in the ira—further enabled Adams and his allies to confidently push for another ceasefire [Moloney Reference Moloney2002: 476-78]. Nevertheless, the Army Council sought the support of the Army Executive to ensure movement unity and enhance Sinn Fein’s credibility. The Executive, however, opposed the ceasefire, insisting that the Army Council had no authority to call one unilaterally. Despite this opposition, the ira announced a ceasefire in July 1997—alienating key Army Executive hardliners.
The 1998 Mitchell Principles establishing the ground rules for all-party peace talks produced a new round of conflict between the Council and the Executive. The Principles committed participants in the talks to the decommissioning of paramilitary organizations, including the ira, regardless of the final outcome of the talks. From the Army Executive’s perspective, decommissioning without a guaranteed British withdrawal violated the ira Constitution. As ira members, Sinn Fein leaders were thus prohibited from signing onto the Principles. The Army Council called for these leaders to be given special “dispensation” to sign onto the Principles. The Executive, in turn, suggested that Sinn Fein leaders relinquish their ira membership—and by default their positions on the Army Council [Mitchell Reference Mitchell2010: 121-22]. This would, of course, weaken the credibility of the party’s leadership in future peace talks. With no agreement forthcoming, an Army Convention was organized.
The hastily planned 1998 Convention proved advantageous to the Adams clique. An unprecedented number of non-delegates, mainly Sinn Fein cadres, spoke at the meeting; while pro-Adams delegates, recently promoted to positions of authority within the ira, stacked the votes in Adams’s favor [Mooney and O’Toole 2003: 25-26]. Ultimately, 60-70% of the Convention supported the ceasefire and the special dispensation allowing Sinn Fein leaders to sign onto the Mitchell Principles. The Convention also produced changes in both the Council and the Executive—the former coming entirely under Adams’s control, the latter becoming less anti-Adams [Moloney Reference Moloney2002: 479]. More importantly, the bulk of the ira’s rank-and-file stuck with the leadership.
There were ominous results as well. Quartermaster General Mickey McKevitt and six prominent members of the Executive resigned in protest, forming the “Real” ira. With its leaders largely from the south, the group had no real base in Northern Ireland [Patterson Reference Patterson, Currie and Taylor2011: 86-87]; and while its members included experienced bomb-makers, it lacked operatives to carry out attacks [Hardnen Reference Harnden1999: 436]. There were no widespread defections from the Provisional ranks, and the dissidents remained isolated “micro-groups” without popular support [Tonge Reference Tonge, Currie and Taylor2011: 112]. The Real ira, however, was seen as a potential threat by British and Irish security forces, and the ensuing counterterrorist pressure nearly destroyed the nascent organization. Unable to establish a viable organizational structure, the Real ira adopted a looser form, encouraging risky practices that culminated in the 1998 Omagh bombing in which 27 civilians died. This bombing—the greatest loss of life in any single attack during the conflict—discredited the dissidents and forced the commitment of fence-sitting Provisional ira militants and commanders in border counties, as well as some Army Council members [Hardnen Reference Harnden1999: 439].
Though counterterrorism and Omagh nearly broke the Real ira, the organization’s development was also hindered by Provisional ira coercion. Following the bombing, Provisionals were dispatched to threaten Real ira members and supporters and were blamed for the 2002 killing of Real ira leader Joe O’Connor in Belfast, as well as other acts of violence and intimidation against erstwhile comrades [Maillot Reference Maillot2005: 172-174]. It is difficult to assess the extent to which Provisional violence and threats hindered the Real ira’s development, as the group may have already been undone by the Omagh bombing. Nevertheless, the Provisional ira proved willing to use violence to enforce peace—thereby bolstering the credibility of movement leaders.
Vigilantism and Transitional “Housekeeping”
ira violence was not only effective in quelling dissent during the peace process, but was also used to prevent defections among ira members by providing them a diminished form of agency in “community policing”. The ira and Sinn Fein had been involved in policing Catholic neighborhoods since the collapse of Northern Ireland’s government in the late 1960s. The auxiliary “civil administration wing” of the ira conducted vigilante attacks against Catholics accused of “anti-social” behavior such as petty crime and drug dealing. The auxiliaries consisted of former prisoners and militants known to police, as well as younger recruits, allowing the ira to train and monitor untested volunteers while limiting defections among veterans [Silke Reference Silke1999: 59-62]. Provisionals, always keen to expand support in the Republic, later mobilized in Dublin’s working class neighborhoods, forming the Coalition of Communities Against Drugs and using violence and intimidation against suspected drug dealers [Maillot Reference Maillot2005: 90-91]. The anti-drug campaign spread to Northern Ireland, escalating after the 1994 and 1997 ceasefires—though beatings replaced shootings in keeping with the ceasefire’s terms [Monaghan Reference Monaghan2004].
While vigilantism was often seen by ira members as a disreputable distraction from the war effort, it was used during the peace process to keep militants busy performing “useful community service”, thus preventing defections to dissident armed groups [Silke Reference Silke1999: 87]. The practice was also supported by British and Irish authorities, who saw it as a form of transitional “housekeeping” that allowed the ira to gradually demobilize its militants [Bean Reference Bean2007: 114-115]. With Sinn Fein supporting the creation of the Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI), the ira abandoned vigilantism. Dissident groups attempted to fill the vacuum left by the Provisionals. In 2007, a new group emerged, Republican Action Against Drugs (raad), rumored to have been founded by former Provisional ira members, contributing to the relatively small escalation of dissident violence in the years that followed [Tonge Reference Tonge, Currie and Taylor2011].
Despite continued low-level dissident violence, the vast majority of republicans support the peace process. Undoubtedly, the credibility of the Adams clique was crucial for the movement’s commitment to the 1998 Good Friday Agreement and to the Provisional ira’s disengagement. Throughout the entire process, the control that the Adams clique wielded over the ira and Sinn Fein—as well as their deftness in isolating dissidents—provided the leadership with crucial credibility. Though Adams and his allies were charismatic figures in the movement, it was their positions of authority and their influence on the Army Council that provided the organizational weapon for directing the peace process—and for continually communicating and demonstrating their own credibility. While many distrusted the sincerity of republican leaders, few doubted their ability to deliver.
Decentralization and discredit in Basque peace efforts
Having examined how Army Council centralization and the authority of Sinn Fein leaders shaped successful engagement in the Irish peace process, I now turn to the persistent coordination and credibility problems that the radical Basque separatist movement faced in peacemaking, problems rooted in the decentralized structure of the movement and the organizational “delinking” of eta from its political allies. First, I examine failed efforts during the 1980s and early 1990s to centralize authority over the movement’s political wing. Second, I examine further centralization efforts within the context of the criminalization of the movement since the late 1990s. These sections demonstrate that movement decentralization was a product of both militant preference and counterterrorist pressure, as well as a chronic problem for coordinating activism and, ultimately, peacemaking. Third, I highlight how eta’s unwillingness to relinquish control over the 1998-99 Lizarra-Garazi peace process undermined its political allies’ efforts to form an alliance with Basque nationalist rivals. Finally, I consider the 2005-2007 peace process and the persistence of eta’s veto despite the group’s pledge to delegate political agency to its allies. With each effort, the movement’s political wing persistently sought a larger role, but was hindered by both state repression and eta’s chronic reneging on its commitments to opponents and allies alike.
Decentralization and the separatist movement
In contrast to Irish republicans, the Basque separatist movement has maintained a decentralized inter-organizational structure, due to both militant preference and counterterrorist pressure. Militants repeatedly rejected centralizing efforts, resulting in persistent reorganization and progressive decentralization. Additionally, repression against eta and its allies prevented the establishment of effective coordinating mechanisms. By the late 1980s, French-Spanish cooperation against eta and the loss of the French Basque sanctuary severely hindered coordination between eta and its allies. Counterterrorist pressure created not only disorganization, but persistent problems in peacemaking, particularly in coordinating the movement’s two wings and establishing the political wing’s credibility. It became clear during the Irish peace process that Sinn Fein leaders could speak for the ira. It became equally clear during Basque peacemaking efforts that nobody could speak for eta apart from eta itself.
Following a 1974 schism, two competing visions of the separatist movement were developed by the rival eta Politico-Military and eta Military. eta Politico-Military devised a quasi-Leninist structure in which eta leaders were to oversee the movement’s political and military wings, in a manner similar to the centralized control wielded by the ira Army Council. Repression and internal conflict between wings, however, prevented the development of this centralized structure, leading to eta Politico-Military’s disbanding in 1984 [Soldevilla Reference Soldevilla Gaizka2011]. eta Military, on the other hand, advocated the “delinking” of the movement’s two wings through “organic separation between mass activity and armed activity” [eta 1980: 15],Footnote 5 entailing separately organized military and political wings.
Despite “organic separation”, some coordination was necessary—if only for the political wing to cope with the repercussions of eta’s violence in the context of Spanish democracy. The task of coordinating political action in line with eta initially fell to Patriotic Socialist Coordination, or kas, formed in 1976 as an inter-organizational coordinating body. Given eta Military’s avowed refusal to engage in “politics”, the small Popular Patriotic Revolutionary Party (hasi) often served as its proxy on kas. Initially, decentralized coordination was facilitated by direct interaction between eta and its allies in the French Basque country [Domínguez Reference Domínguez1998: 148]. As French-Spanish counterterrorist cooperation developed, however, leaders called for more centralized political coordination suited to this increasingly hostile environment. In 1983, kas initiated a project to centralize control over movement organizations—though not over eta —with hasi acting as the main vehicle for this effort. hasi was seen as an ideal instrument as, in addition to being eta’s proxy on kas, its cadres maintained overlapping memberships in other organizations, particularly at the leadership level [Letamendia Reference Letamendia1994: 117-18, 211]. hasi was also one of the original four founding parties of the Herri Batasuna coalition, its influence growing after the departure of two parties’ in 1980. But the centralizing effort produced tensions among militants. Conflict developed within Herri Batasuna between hasi and the majority “independents”,Footnote 6 resulting in the barring of hasi members from official positions [Woodworth Reference Woodworth2002: 130], while eta eventually admonished hasi for its failure to respect organizational autonomy [Egaña Reference Egaña1996: 392]. Tensions within hasi over the leadership’s vanguardism ultimately led to its 1992 dissolution [Domínguez Reference Domínguez1998: 109].
The struggle over centralization continued into the 1990s as movement organizations sought even greater autonomy, with many believing that, given the movement’s militarized image, the adoption of more open organizational forms was necessary to expand support [Ó Broin Reference Ó Broin2003: 190]. The youth group Jarrai initiated this reorganization process in the late 1980s, embracing a decentralized model to appeal to politicized Basque youth [Arzuaga Reference Arzuaga2010: 5-6]. Herri Batasuna also sought to create a “horizontal and open” structure “in contrast to the monolithic and vertical forms on which traditional parties depend” [Herri Batasuna Reference Herri1991: 5]. Independence from eta factored into the decentralization drive. According to Herri Batasuna, “There is a false dependency with respect to the activity of eta. This dependency has accentuated, crystallizing in an attitude of waiting for what eta will do, whether it will declare a ceasefire or undertake an armed action” [ibid.: 57]. Rigid centralization would only increase such dependency.
kas nevertheless again attempted to centralize authority in the early 1990s, an effort which militants again rejected. According to a 1994 kas document, “there has been a loss of receptivity within the milieu toward the Bloc [kas] which is why the changes and corrections we introduced met with […] a climate of distrust” (quoted in Audiencia Nacional 2007: 204). According to the group, its centralizing vision was out of step with the “profound change in the concept of leadership […] from bureaucratic homogeneity to a new philosophy of dynamization, respect, recognition, and a desire for heterogeneity” (quoted in Letamendia Reference Letamendia1994: 394). kas publically dissolved in 1994, resulting in eta having “a lack of control over other forms of social coercion” during subsequent peace efforts [Audiencia Nacional 2007: 205].
The criminalization of the separatist movement
In recent decades, Spanish courts have systematically thwarted centralizing efforts—along with most movement activity, peacemaking included. Since the late 1990s, virtually every movement organization has been criminalized, including kas in 1998 and Batasuna in 2003. Though a critical examination of these “terrorism trials” is beyond this article’s scope, discussion of two particular cases is warranted given their bearing on centralizing efforts: the 2007 ruling against Ekin, kas’s alleged successor; and the 2010 “Bateragune” case in which Batasuna leaders were convicted of eta membership.Footnote 7 These rulings indicate that centralization remained an elusive goal in recent decades, while politicos continued to lack real influence over eta.Footnote 8
Ekin, founded in 1999, was allegedly formed to replace kas as the movement’s coordinating body. While it is likely that this was Ekin’s purpose—many of its founders being kas veterans—the Spanish National Court ruling provides scant evidence that Ekin ever wielded centralized control. The documents introduced into evidence largely indicate what Ekin hoped to achieve: “we have a special responsibility to activate our social, political and institutional power” and “we must implicate the greatest number of agents, sectors, and individuals possible” (quoted in Audiencia Nacional 2007: 218). The group’s vision was often grandiose: “ours is an organization that inserts itself into the schools, the factory, and in popular dynamics” [ibid.: 210]. Though little evidence was presented that Ekin accomplished these goals, the Court nevertheless ruled that “Ekin exercised the function of control over the entire organized collectivity known as the Basque National Liberation Movement” [ibid.: 218]. The Court was, however, less concerned with Ekin’s activities than in proving that it was kas’s successor, and thus, like kas, an “illicit association, in the modality of being part of the terrorist organization named eta” [ibid.: 546]. Furthermore, it was Ekin’s goal of centralizing control over the movement that justified its illegalization, not the extent to which it wielded such control. Indeed, legal action against Ekin prevented it from doing so. Within a year of its founding, twenty group leaders were arrested and Ekin was banned in 2001. Though maintaining a clandestine existence, Ekin does not appear to have played a role in the 2005-2007 peace effort, which was dominated by Batasuna leaders.Footnote 9 Following eta’s reneging, Ekin sided with the group in advocating the armed struggle’s continuation, which was increasingly opposed by the rest of the movement [Domínguez Reference Domínguez2012: 286-287]. After a new round of arrests, Ekin dissolved in 2011. Certainly, legal ordeals impeded its mission, but given the past rejection of kas’s centralizing efforts, it is unlikely that militants would have accepted Ekin’s control in the new century.
Following eta’s 2007 return to violence, the National Court alleged in its 2010 “Bateragune” ruling that another centralizing effort was initiated, this time headed by Batasuna leaders. In 2010, Batasuna’s spokesperson Arnaldo Otegi and four colleagues were convicted of membership in a terrorist organization based largely on the “cause-effect” relationship between eta’s directives and movement leaders’ subsequent organizational efforts [Audiencia Nacional 2011: 42]. In 2008, eta called for the movement to adapt “the necessary structure to advance the politico-military line” [ibid.: 56] and to “direct the accumulation of forces in the fields of national construction and in defense of the democratic framework” [ibid.: 8].Footnote 10 According to the ruling, movement leaders complied with these orders by holding a series of meetings to initiate political centralization, while Otegi and other colleagues allegedly later met with “individuals close to eta” in the French Basque Country to update the organization on the progress—though the defense claimed that these individuals were members of Batasuna, then still legal in France [ibid.: 17-18].Footnote 11 In terms of proving “membership” in eta, the Court focused on the thesis that Otegi and his colleagues knowingly followed eta’s orders, evidenced by the correspondence between eta’s public directives and the subsequent actions and language of movement leaders. As for organizational links, beyond two meetings with individuals allegedly “close to eta” and the discovery of eta documents where one of the leaders was arrested, scant evidence of actual membership in eta is found in the ruling. Indeed, in 2012 the Supreme Court ruled that the evidence did not prove the five were “members” of ETA, simply mere “collaborators.”
The Ekin and Bateragune cases indicate that centralization remained an elusive goal within radical separatism. Both, after all, center on attempts to create a unified political leadership. Had the movement been centralized, there would have been no need for such centralizing efforts. Furthermore, if taken at face value, the rulings indicate that movement political leaders wielded no influence over their armed allies. eta ordered centralization, political leaders complied. This provides further evidence that, in contrast to Irish republicans, the Basque separatist movement lacked a centralized body through which political leaders could directly influence eta. After the 1997 arrest of Herri Batasuna’s leadership and the 1998 banning of kas, centralization efforts were largely thwarted by the courts, resulting in greater movement inefficacy and disorganization, as well as in chronic coordination and credibility problems that hindered peacemaking efforts.
The 1997-1999 Lizarra-Garazi process
With the failure of the 1987-1989 Algerian talks between eta and Spanish officials, many Basque separatists questioned the political wing’s singular focus on eta-Madrid negotiations in light of the movement’s growing marginalization [Ó Broin 2002: 140-142]. Herri Batasuna leaders argued that there had been “an overemphasis on negotiations”, and that militants had mistakenly seen eta-Madrid talks “as a solution to all our problems” [Herri Batasuna Reference Herri1994: 36]. This focus on negotiations allowed eta to maintain movement hegemony, preventing politicos from establishing credibility as political agents and peacemakers-in-waiting. In subsequent efforts, the political wing would attempt to seize the initiative and establish itself as the “bridge between eta and the Spanish state” [ibid.: 86]. Despite optimism following eta’s 1998 ceasefire and the unification of Basque nationalists in support of conflict resolution, the “Lizarra-Garazi Accords” (named for the Basque towns in which they were signed) were ultimately hindered by eta’s refusal to relinquish its veto over peace.
The Lizarra-Garazi process provided new opportunities for separatist political engagement, beginning before eta’s September 1998 ceasefire with the formation of the Ireland Forum that gathered moderate and radical nationalists together to examine the lessons of the Irish peace process. The Lizarra-Garazi Accords, unveiled during the Forum’s final meeting, pledged signatories to using democratic means to end political violence and to collectively working for Basque self-determination. Central to Lizarra-Garazi—and to the secret 1997 deal between eta and moderate nationalist parties that laid the groundwork for eta’s subsequent ceasefire—was the creation of a transnational institution that was to be the embryo of a future Basque state: the Assembly of Mayors and Municipal Representatives of the Basque Country, or Udalbiltza, founded in 1998 with the support of 1,778 elected representatives from throughout the Basque Country [Giacopuzzi Reference Giacopuzzi2002: 131].
Lizarra-Garazi provided other political opportunities for separatism’s political wing. In 1998, Herri Batasuna and rival leftwing nationalists formed the coalition Euskal Herritarrok, “We Basque Citizens”, taking 18% of the vote in the 1998 Basque parliamentary elections and 20% in the 1999 provincial elections—the biggest separatist gains since 1987. In an unprecedented step, Euskal Herritarrok took its seats in the “illegitimate” autonomous Basque parliament, forming a government with moderate nationalists. Moderate and radical nationalists also coordinated more contentious activism demanding the transfer of eta prisoners to Basque prisons. In January 1999, over 100,000 Basques demonstrated in support of eta prisoners [ibid.: 115; 142]. The streets were also the stage for less productive activism as Basque youths used low-level protest violence throughout the process, demonstrating Herri Batasuna’s limited control over the movement’s more radical sectors [Aulestia Reference Aulestia1998: 216].
The Lizarra-Garazi process, despite the opportunities that it provided separatists, failed in large part due to eta’s unwillingness to fulfill its commitments. Indeed, the armed group may have used the Lizarra-Garazi process to covertly reorganize its operational structures and recruit new members as its allies struck deals with longtime rivals and opponents [Domínguez Reference Domínguez2012: 59-63]. Publicly, however, eta blamed others for the ceasefire’s collapse, claiming that “the available forces […] have not been sufficiently activated […] [To] complete the process that began over a year ago, more concrete initiatives must be taken” [Gara, Nov. 28, 1999]. Movement allies responded by trying to salvage newfound gains, but eta’s return to violence prompted moderate nationalists to withdraw support from Udalbiltza and end their parliamentary alliance with Euskal Herritarrok [Whitfield Reference Whitfield2014: 95-96]. The efforts of separatist politicos were further undermined by legal action against the movement. While the judicial onslaught began with the 1997 arrest under Herri Batasuna’s leadership and continued throughout the Lizarra-Garazi process with the illegalization of kas and the closure of the movement’s newspaper Egin in 1998, the campaign escalated following eta’s return to violence. By 2003, the youth group Jarrai, the prisoners’ rights organization Gestoras Pro-Amnistía, Ekin, and Batasuna—as Herri Batasuna had rechristened itself in 2000—had all been illegalized by Spanish courts. Criminalization severely constrained the political wing’s agency, producing further problems in subsequent peace efforts.
The 2005-2007 peace process
After the turn of the century, the political wing of Basque separatism broadened its approach to conflict resolution by seeking the participation of the Basque wing of the Spanish Socialist Party in talks to devise an “internal solution” among Basques. Batasuna’s 2004 Anoeta Declaration called for “multilateral political dialogue” among Basque constitutionalists and nationalists, restricting eta-Madrid talks to “technical” matters relating to the armed group’s disbandment [Batasuna 2004: 8]. Separatist leaders were also engaged in private efforts to reach out to Basque socialists. Beginning in 2000, Arnaldo Otegi and socialist Jésus Eguiguren met secretly to design a future peace process, directly paving the way for eta’s 2006 ceasefire. In 2005, a series of secret meetings in Geneva and Oslo between Eguiguren and veteran eta leader Josu Urrutikoetxea established a blueprint for eta’s ceasefire and the subsequent peace process. eta committed to refraining from all military and logistical activity, while Madrid agreed to issue a statement, modeled on the British government’s 1993 Downing Street Declaration, recognizing Basques’ “right to decide”—a euphemism for self-determination [Eguiguren and Aizpeolea Reference Eguiguren and Aizpeolea2011: 149-150]. The eta-Madrid agreement also laid out a “first peace, then politics” framework, with technical talks concerning eta’s disbandment to precede political talks among Basque parties—thereby negating eta’s influence over the final settlement. In March 2006, eta declared a “permanent” ceasefire.
The government’s credibility, however, was undermined by continued legal action against eta and the broader movement, with the illegal Batasuna party being targeted in particular [ibid.: 166-168). Within days of eta’s ceasefire declaration, the National Court ordered Otegi’s arrest for “membership in a terrorist organization,” though he was soon released on bail. The Court also barred party demonstrations and in June ordered Batasuna leaders to appear in court for holding an illegal press conference [Batista Reference Batista2011: 90]. Beyond the impact on Batasuna’s ability to mobilize, legal action undermined the government’s credibility as the 2005 eta-Madrid agreement guaranteed that Batasuna be allowed to participate in “political life under conditions equal to that of other political and social forces” [Eguiguren and Aizpeolea Reference Eguiguren and Aizpeolea2011: 149].
Though Batasuna was prevented from mobilizing supporters and communicating its peace strategy, party leaders retained some agency. In September 2006, following eta threats to abandon its ceasefire, Otegi and colleagues met with delegates from the moderate Basque Nationalist Party and with Basque socialists to devise a “roadmap” for a future political agreement, breaking with the “first peace, then politics” logic of the 2005 blueprint [Murua Reference Murua2010: 53-54]. The talks began in September, with a preliminary agreement reached at the end of October, detailing a complex process involving separate sets of all-party talks in the Basque Autonomous Community and in the disputed province of Navarre; public conferences in which preliminary drafts would be discussed and modified; popular referenda on the agreement; and final ratification by the Spanish government and judiciary [ibid.: 79-106].
eta, however, remained determined to shape any future settlement, despite the group’s pledge to restrict itself to technical matters. In early November, eta pressured Batasuna to introduce a modified version of the draft agreement that set a two-year limit on the process and established its final outcome as the incorporation of Navarre into the Basque Autonomous Community [ibid.: 113-115). These preconditions were also introduced during eta-Madrid talks held in Geneva in September and October, with hardline eta leader Francisco Javier Lopez Peña—who initially joined then replaced Urrutikoetxea as the group’s primary delegate in official talks—insisting that Navarre’s incorporation into the Basque Autonomous Community was the sine qua non of eta’s disengagement [Eguiguren and Aizpeolea Reference Eguiguren and Aizpeolea2011: 238-239]. The introduction of these political demands during technical talks indicated that eta had rejected the “two-track” approach and instead wanted the final say over any future settlement.
eta was not content to merely influence the political talks, but sought to veto the entire process with violence. While its movement allies were engaged in talks in October, eta was preparing for an attack to take place in November, which was thwarted by Spanish and French police [Domínguez Reference Domínguez2012: 178-192]. The group continued preparations and in late December, eta bombed a parking structure at the Barajas international airport in Madrid, resulting in two deaths. Despite the attack, eta insisted its ceasefire remained in effect. In May 2007, a series of meetings were held in Geneva, but broke down due to eta’s continued demand for Navarre’s incorporation as a precondition for disengagement. With no advances forthcoming, eta officially declared an end to its ceasefire in June 2007.
Though eta publicly blamed the Spanish government for the peace process’s failure, many separatists argued that divisions within the movement doomed the effort. eta leader Lopez Peña pointed to “the problem of internal cohesion” stemming from eta’s and Batasuna’s “differing interpretations of negotiations” [Eguiguren and Aizepeolea Reference Eguiguren and Aizpeolea2011: 254]. Arnaldo Otegi echoed these sentiments, claiming that the process began “with two substantially different visions” of peacemaking [Whitfield Reference Whitfield2014: 164]. In an internal debate in 2008, eta members accused group leaders of having placed too much emphasis on eta-Madrid talks, “overshadowing negotiation between parties,” while the Barajas attack resulted in the “erosion of [eta’s] credibility” and the “weakening of the mobilizing capacity” of the movement [El País Sept. 27, 2009). eta’s resumption of violence may have been one reneging too many, especially for its allies who again suffered the repercussions. Schism threatened the movement for the first time since the 1970s, with eta finding itself increasingly isolated and pressured to disband [Domínguez Reference Domínguez2012: 281-287). The group bowed to intra-movement pressure—as well as decimating counterterrorism—calling a ceasefire in 2010, which has been followed by a series of unilateral moves toward eta’s disbandment. Though the separatist party Sortu was legalized in 2011 and radical separatists have formed successful coalitions with leftwing nationalists in recent years, many veteran separatist leaders—those likely to have ties to eta—remain imprisoned and thus unable to act as interlocutors, credible or otherwise.
Conclusion
While variation in inter-organizational movement structure does not entirely explain why Basque separatist peace efforts failed where Irish republican efforts succeeded, its impact was nevertheless significant in shaping these divergent outcomes. The Adams leadership’s control over the two wings of Irish republicanism via the Army Council enabled the coordination of political action and military inaction—or rather, limited action—while managing factional splits and stifling dissidence. Movement centralization also provided Sinn Fein leaders with credibility in making deals in the ira’s name. Adams and McGuinness, despite their frequent denials, were widely believed to be Army Council members, thus making them credible negotiating partners. As Sinn Fein leaders, they could claim that this credibility derived from the party’s democratic mandate, rather than its relationship to the ira—allowing opponents to “talk to terrorists” without talking to them directly. Basque separatists, on the other hand, were plagued in their peace efforts by both coordination and credibility problems stemming from movement decentralization. Though the separatist movement’s political wing increasingly played a larger role in peacemaking, it remained beholden to eta. Despite—or perhaps because of—the gains made by the political wing, eta unilaterally ended ceasefires in 1999 and 2007, leaving allies in strategic and organizational disarray. Indeed, with each failed peace effort, not only was the movement’s political structure weakened, but the credibility of both its wings diminished due to eta’s reneging on its commitments to enemy and ally alike.
Though this article has focused on the credible commitments of insurgents, state credibility also powerfully shaped Irish and Basque peace efforts. The United Kingdom had historically been viewed by republicans as having a strategic territorial interest in Ireland. By the 1990s, however, there was a pronounced shift in the British stance on the “Irish problem”, which the republican movement was forced to recognize [Alonso Reference Alonso2004]. Republicans remained suspicious of British intentions, but state action—drawing down troops in Northern Ireland and the eventual incorporation of Sinn Fein into all-party talks—shored up British credibility and encouraged republican commitment to the process. The Spanish state, on the other hand, suffers from a credibility deficit, due to the persistence of repression during peace efforts and its unwavering commitment to the territorial integrity of Spain and the Basque Country’s place within it. During eta ceasefires, a parallel “police truce” was never instituted as had occurred in Northern Ireland, with Spanish security officials insisting that “the rule of law does not call truces.” Continued state repression, in turn, allowed eta to justify reneging in 1999 and 2007. Furthermore, the state’s insistence that any settlement must accord with the Spanish Constitution, which prohibits self-determination, limits state credibility in reaching a political agreement. The entrenched nationalism of the Spanish political establishment contrasts sharply with the relative flexibility that the United Kingdom exhibited during the Irish peace process of the 1990s.
The interaction between state and insurgent credibility can be conceptualized as a game of discrediting, wherein each side monitors the other’s behavior for evidence of insincerity to justify its own preemptive reneging. Since peace is not necessarily preferable to fighting—not for states able to absorb insurgent violence, nor for militants committed to keeping the flame of struggle alive—insincerity is a chronic problem in peacemaking. Discrediting opponents may simply be an excuse to again start shooting. But this game of discrediting can become a game of chicken, with each side seeking to discredit the other by committing itself more fully to the process—locking players into begrudging peacemaking. This characterizes the behavior of Irish republicans and their opponents during the 1990s. Initially, republican leaders tactically committed to the process expecting that the British government would eventually renege due to unionist pressure and geostrategic necessity. Republicans thus committed to outlast. But so too did the British government and eventually Northern Irish unionists. The end result was the 1998 Good Friday Agreement and the 2007 St. Andrews Agreement. In playing a game of chicken, republicans and their enemies stubbornly made peace.
This commitment strategy has unfortunately not been used in past iterations of the Basque game. Instead, eta and the Spanish state have been committed to mutually discrediting one another to justify their own reneging—with eta always losing, impatiently returning to armed struggle. The Spanish political establishment has preferred counterterrorism to resolution given its nationalist commitments and its capacity to absorb eta’s waning violence. Battling “terrorism” is more politically profitable than a peace that would legalize and legitimize nonviolent Basque separatism. eta, for its part, has been historically committed to perpetuating the armed struggle, not ending it.
The Basque game, however, appears to have changed in recent years. A moribund eta, given its reputation for reneging, has been forced to take unilateral steps toward disengagement—committing to peace without a peace process. In 2010, eta declared a ceasefire and in 2011 announced the definite end of its armed struggle. In late 2013, eta began the internationally verified decommissioning of its weapons and in July 2014 announced the permanent dismantling of its remaining operational structures. The Spanish state and judiciary has responded by continuing its legal campaign against eta and its nonviolent allies. Within days of eta’s announcement of the dismantling of its structures, the Spanish Constitutional Court rejected the appeals of the “Bateragune 5”. With each legal action against nonviolent Basque separatists, the Spanish government gambles with its own credibility. For the time being, it appears to have a sufficient store of credit and discredit to continue the game.
Acknowledgements
This article is based in part on research conducted in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country of Spain through funding provided by the National Science Foundation, the Social Science Research Council, the ucla International Institute, and the uc Berkeley Institute of European Studies. I would like to thank Rogers Brubaker for his patience in reading and critiquing numerous drafts of this paper. I would also like to thank my anonymous reviewers for their valuable comments and criticisms.
