icon caret Arrow Down Arrow Left Arrow Right Arrow Up Line Camera icon set icon set Ellipsis icon set Facebook Favorite Globe Hamburger List Mail Map Marker Map Microphone Minus PDF Play Print RSS Search Share Trash Crisiswatch Alerts and Trends Box - 1080/761 Copy Twitter Video Camera  copyview Whatsapp Youtube
CAR: The Fate of Refugees in Southern Chad
CAR: The Fate of Refugees in Southern Chad
Visualising the Dynamics of Combat and Negotiations in Donbas
Visualising the Dynamics of Combat and Negotiations in Donbas
Commentary / Africa

CAR: The Fate of Refugees in Southern Chad

Thibaud Lesueur, Crisis Group’s Central Africa analyst, recently visited refugee camps in Southern Chad to assess the fate of refugees and the regional impact of CAR’s crisis.

Since the March 2013 coup, the Central African Republic (CAR) crisis has driven approximately 240,000 people from their homes to Cameroon and Chad. This is, of course, not the first time the region has witnessed a refugee crisis. In the last two decades, many Central Africans have sought refuge in Southern Chad from violence perpetrated either by CAR’s infamous presidential guard or by armed groups and bandits. However, the violence in this current conflict, with its deeply worrying intercommunal tensions, could spill into southern Chad itself. Already, the influx of CAR refugees, mostly Muslims, some coming with their cattle to a region mostly populated by farmers, increases competition over natural resources and makes cohabitation between locals and newcomers ever more difficult.

Refugees and returnees

Since the beginning of the crisis in 2013, the International Organisation for Migration (IOM) has registered more than 113,000 individuals seeking refuge in the Chadian capital, Ndjamena, as well as in camps and villages in Southern Chad. Some are “Chadian returnees“who had lived in CAR for several generations. Some travelled by truck or on planes sent by Chadian authorities. The less fortunate travelled on foot. Humanitarian organisations were initially overwhelmed by refugee flows at the start of 2014 and are still under-resourced. According to the UN’s Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), out of the $127 million requested to respond to the CAR crisis in Chad, only $30 million have been provided. The border closure by the Chadian government in May 2014 further complicated access for refugees. Chad declared it would reopen the border and create a humanitarian corridor, but the corridor is far away from populated areas, with no roads, making it very difficult for NGOs to access.

My sons and my wife were killed, I couldn’t save them. I fled to Cameroon before coming to Chad to meet my brother.

The most dramatic situations concern the refugees who have walked from CAR. Following weeks or, in some instances, months trekking by foot, harassed by anti-balaka militias, they arrive exhausted and scattered, with many mourning the loss of family members as they fled the civil war: “My sons and my wife were killed, I couldn’t save them. I fled to Cameroon before coming to Chad to meet my brother” (refugee from Bouar, April 2014). According to a recent report released by Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF), Central African Refugees in Chad and Cameroon: “Suitcase or Coffin“, the last wave of refugees in Cameroon and Chad crossed the border in poor health and many suffer from malnutrition.

The Southern Chad camps offer a good sample of the diversity of the CAR people affected by the crisis: civil servants, herders with or without their cattle, farmers, merchants and their families, diamond dealers, professors, students and even former Seleka rebels. Many Fulanis (Mbororo, Uda, Sankara and Jaafun) targeted in the bush with their cattle by the anti-balaka are in the camps. Others, such as Misseriya or Salamat Arab traders who lost everything during days of anti-balaka lootings, are also camped with them. Finally, there are, to a lesser extent, some Kaba and Gbaya people from farming communities who fled the violence of Seleka militiamen. It is complicated to determine who is Chadian and who is Central African; the CAR people and the “Chadian returnees” rarely have identity cards, and among the latter many claim Central African citizenship or deny Chadian connections.

Safety and vengeance

So far security problems related to these camps have been contained, but tensions are emerging. The camps tend to be organised and structured along communitarian lines or according to social stratifications. In Dosseye camp, the people from Bangui, often better educated and mostly former traders, stick together: “Over there, they are people from Bangui; they despise us” (refugee, coming from Paoua, arrived in Dosseye camp in April 2014).

Organising the camps and deciding who will be the refugees’ representatives rekindle old power struggles from back home. Rivalries between herders (mostly Fulanis living in the bush) and traders (mainly Arabs living in towns) have resurfaced in southern Chad. “Because the camp’s delegates are Arab, they always put us aside”, confides a Fulani. “We can’t be represented by illiterate Fulanis,” replies an Arab trader. Yet, so far, tensions have not escalated into violence.

In Southern Chad, Fulanis from CAR now coexist with Chadian pastoralists who shortened their transhumance in CAR because of the conflict and tensions with the local CAR population. As a result, on the Chadian side competition over resources and disputes between farmers and pastoralists are rising. The arrival of new herds and the blockage of transhumance to CAR in the dry season risk overgrazing pasturelands and generating disputes between locals and newcomers. “Authorities block us,” said a refugee from Bouca, who arrived in Sido in March. “It’s not us who decide where we have to go, it’s our cattle. If we stay, our cows are going to die. Furthermore, militaries want to disarm us even though we need our weapons to defend ourselves”. In Mtiboye, a city set on a traditional transhumance route and nowadays used as a transit area by herders fleeing conflict, a representative of the local authority notes: “We can’t control the herders. Maybe some of them will go through Cameroon, maybe others will cross the border. It’s difficult to contain them”.

The temptation to avenge is high in the camps. So far, Chad’s armed forces have kept the peace, but incidents are frequent. In Mbitoye, the inhabitants talk of cattle raids over the border by the anti-balaka early 2014 and evidence of cross-border movements by young armed herders who are refugees in Chad seeking revenge were observed. The border closure in May reduced these movements but, as one refugee, a student in Dosseye camp, noted: “Each week we see young people reach CAR to get enlisted in armed groups”. Small groups of youths are attracted by the financial gains of joining armed groups: “In the camp, it is said that we can make 75,000 FCFA ($145) if we join the Seleka” (refugee, Dosseye camp). This is corroborated by members of the Chadian unit for the protection of refugees and aid workers, but they feel that the numbers crossing the border to fight are very few.

Aware of this phenomenon, Chad’s president, Idriss Déby, visited the region in May and warned those tempted by revenge. Since then, Chadian authorities have been trying to disarm the pastoralists and raise awareness among the youth, but it is not easy. In Goré, the authorities admit they are struggling with a tense situation: “In Danamadja, young people may be very aggressive and very spiteful. We are managing a dissatisfied and angry population and we do not have the capacity to do so”.

Going home

The desire to return varies among CAR’s refugees. In Sido and Danamadja, some Arab Central African traders say that they lost everything and do not want to set foot again in CAR. Many of them intend to start businesses in Chad and are confident about finding a place in Chad’s economic and social fabric: “If there is security, we will manage to start again from here. We will go to Sarh or Moundou” (“returnee”, coming from Bangui, arrived in Sido in February 2014).

By contrast, most of the Central African Fulanis say they do not want to stay in Chad and will return home when it is safer. Many of them emphasise that they do not have any families in Chad, having never been to the country. In Danamadja camp, an old Central African Fulani who lost his herd spoke about new job prospects back home: “I have friends who work in the diamond trade and others in trade in general; I’ll see what I can do to work again”. All of them focus on how, before the crisis, they lived peacefully with their fellow citizens and regret that, as Muslims, they are seen as supporting Seleka. “They thought we were part of the Seleka because we are Muslims” confides a Fulani before adding, “If the crisis ends, we’ll go back to Central African Republic and we’ll start again like before”. While some refugees remain optimistic, others realise that given the level of violence in CAR, reconciliation will be a long and difficult process. Even their return home will take time.

Boys stay on top of the war memorial complex Savur-Mohyla, damaged in the recent conflict, outside the rebel-held city of Donetsk, Ukraine 8 September 2020. REUTERS/Alexander Ermochenko

Visualising the Dynamics of Combat and Negotiations in Donbas

Efforts to bring peace to Ukraine’s Donbas region have been deadlocked for years. The steps the belligerents take to de-escalate violence can save lives, but people still die on the front lines and beyond. Crisis Group’s new visual explainer puts these dynamics in stark relief.

The war in eastern Ukraine began in March 2014. It pits separatists backed by Russia against the Ukrainian government in two industrial regions, Donetsk and Luhansk, which are part of an area known as Donbas. The war was ugliest in its first year, when battles raged for territory and strategic position. Two peace agreements – known as the Minsk agreements of 2014 and 2015 – put an end to the major fighting. They also laid out a roadmap for the reabsorption of the separatist-controlled regions into Ukraine, which calls, among other things, for Kyiv to grant these areas limited self-governing status. Implementation has stalled, however, and in the meantime some 75,000 troops – mostly Ukrainian citizens on both sides – still face off along a 450km front that cleaves Donbas in two. Some 800,000 civilians also live in the line of fire, while several million others reside in areas ridden with mines and unexploded shells. The death toll for the conflict creeps upward nearly every week and is now over 14,000.

Crisis Group’s new interactive feature, “Conflict in Ukraine’s Donbas: A Visual Explainer”, maps both military and civilian casualties and illustrates the links between ceasefires and lulls in combat. It shows that ceasefires work – until they crack under the weight of deadlocked negotiations. It further shows that civilian casualties from live fire clearly correlate with intense combat in urban and suburban areas, falling to almost nil when ceasefires are in place. Civilian casualties from mines, however, do not correlate with whether or not a ceasefire is in place and have lately risen, likely due to increased foot traffic through heavily mined areas.

Taken together, the data presented by this new explainer indicate that in the absence of a durable political solution, if the parties want to honour their stated intent to limit civilian casualties, they should commit to disengagement from high-traffic areas and to comprehensive demining. Both of these steps are hard sells to field commanders, for whom holding territory generally takes precedence. But disengagement is the only way to bring casualty rates reliably down, short of the impractical exercise of relocating civilians away from danger.

Combat Kills Civilians

The geography of the Donbas war all but guarantees civilian casualties. The front, known as the line of separation or line of contact, runs right through what was once the most densely populated part of Ukraine. Its central segments curve around coal mines, coke foundries and steel plants, while the southern and northern ends cut through farmland and picturesque meadows previously used for recreation. Dotting the combat zone on either side of the front are apartment blocks and weekend homes with garden plots. Today, industries are functioning at a fraction of their former capacity. Fields lie fallow, littered with mines and shells, while fighters on both sides have taken over vacation and retirement homes. Most families with the means to do so have left.

But some have stayed. Roughly 200,000 residents remain within 5km of the line of separation on the government-controlled side, while their neighbours just over the trenches number roughly 600,000. Any exchange of fire endangers the lives and disrupts the livelihoods of large numbers of people, a significant portion of them elderly.

Crisis Group’s visual explainer tracks civilian and combatant casualties, differentiating them by cause. It shows, for instance, that the vast majority – roughly 80 per cent – of live-fire (shelling and gunfire) civilian casualties occur in areas controlled by Russian-backed separatists. The ebb and flow of civilian casualties in these areas largely tracks with those of military casualties. The higher civilian casualty rate in non-government-controlled areas is due to the fact that these places are more urban and populous. Users of Crisis Group’s map can see that these casualties are concentrated around the front’s central section near the separatist-controlled cities of Donetsk and Horlivka, but also bleed across the line into the former Donetsk suburb of Mariinka, which Ukrainian government forces hold. Horlivka and the Donetsk suburbs are fairly densely populated. The high civilian casualties there may also be related to the position of combatants: troops on both sides are posted in residential streets or very close to them.

Civilian casualties are heavily concentrated in the most populous, urban areas of the front line, near Donetsk and Horlivka.

In Hirske and Kadiivka districts, where combatant deaths since the start of 2020 have been highest, civilian casualties from live fire also closely track combatant casualties, in that they go up and down in tandem. But civilian casualty numbers are also lower than in Donetsk or Horlivka, likely because most troops are dug in farther away from large towns. Together, the numbers suggest that neither side is trying to hit civilians but also that combatants are not doing all they can to avoid collateral damage.

Ceasefires Save Lives

To assess the impact of ceasefires on casualties, Crisis Group charted the latter over time, noting each ceasefire agreement on a line graph. This simple analysis indicates that whatever else they do, and however short-lived they may be, ceasefires do save lives: each ceasefire is closely correlated with a reduction in casualties, and the stricter its provisions, the fewer the casualties.

Levels of violence in the combat zone drop after ceasefires are in place.

The most recent ceasefire, which had particularly strict provisions, had the greatest effect. Commencing in July 2020, it banned combatants from initiating firefights for any reason and imposed strict limitations on return fire, as well. In the seven months that followed the agreement, combatant fatalities dropped to less than half the number in the seven months prior (82 killed by live fire between January and July 2020, and 36 between August 2020 and February 2021), while civilian deaths and injuries from live fire fell from 50 to 5 in the same period, with almost no civilians hurt from August 2020 to 30 January 2021 (two civilians suffered hearing loss due to an explosion on 12 November). As further evidence of the agreement’s effectiveness, in comments to Ukrainian media and to Crisis Group, front-line dwellers spoke of improved security after it was signed.

Although the visual explainer covers only the period from January 2020 to the present day, data from 2019 tells a similar story. Then, too, a ceasefire went into effect in July. Of the 56 casualties from live fire that UN monitors recorded between 16 May and 15 August 2019, all but one occurred before the ceasefire.

New Casualty Trends

The data breakdown also shows that while both civilian and combatant casualties from heavy weaponry in the past seven months remain lower than before the July 2020 ceasefire, small arms fire during this period accounts for a larger portion of casualties. The use of heavy weaponry like artillery and mortars is prohibited by the Minsk agreements and has in fact declined.

But both sides are still using these weapons on occasion, so the reduction of casualties also suggests that they have been able to better calibrate their fire using drones and other modern equipment in order to lessen collateral damage. Civilian casualties from heavy weapons declined fivefold year-on-year in the first six months of 2021, while casualties from small arms held steady. Combatant casualties from heavy weapons also fell, albeit less dramatically, even as deaths among Ukrainian government troops from small arms – and sniper fire, in particular – have risen from eighteen in 2020 to 24 in 2021 to date. This uptick is consistent with Crisis Group interviews and Ukrainian media reports pointing to increased activity by Russian-backed (and allegedly Russian) snipers.

A breakdown of civilian casualties by cause and type. Casualties from live fire have decreased, while those from mines and explosive objects have increased.

Additionally, as civilian casualties from live fire have fallen in the past year, deaths and injuries from mines and unexploded ordnance have crept up: these accounted for one fourth of casualties in 2020-2021, but doubled year-on-year in the first half of 2021. Throughout the eighteen-month period, the bulk of such casualties have occurred along the banks of the Siversky Donets river, which divides the government-controlled part of the Luhansk region from the so-called Luhansk People’s Republic. The forests through which the river runs are heavily mined but see almost no live fire. More people than usual may be tramping through the forests because economic decline associated with COVID-19 is forcing them to collect firewood for fuel. Many are also fishing in the river for sustenance. Reports also suggest that residents are smuggling food and other goods across the river, which puts them at risk, though it is not clear whether they have stepped up this activity recently or not. Meanwhile, in other areas, the drop-off in live fire may simply mean that residents feel comfortable wandering farther from home, increasing their chances of tripping mines.

Map showing the geographic distribution of mine-related incidents over time. The worst-affected areas flank the Siversky Donets river in Luhansk region.

Why Do Ceasefires Fail?

The July 2020 ceasefire was perhaps the sole diplomatic success in a period otherwise marked by deepening acrimony between the two sides. Throughout 2020 and 2021, the parties undertook a series of tit-for-tat measures that have made the Minsk agreements’ eventual implementation look less and less likely. In June 2020, the parliament in Kyiv passed a decree stating that Ukraine would recognise elections held in areas controlled by Russia-backed separatists only after the government had regained control of the eastern border, contradicting a controversial provision of the agreements. The separatist regions’ de facto authorities retaliated by holding up progress in fulfilling commitments to prisoner exchanges, sectoral military disengagements and enhanced civilian freedom of movement. In September 2020, the sides fell into a bitter dispute over an attempt at joint inspection of troop positions near the city of Horlivka, as well as later efforts to establish a joint mechanism for monitoring ceasefire violations. Three months later, in December, Russian President Vladimir Putin said at his annual press conference that Kyiv had almost given up on the Minsk accords – and promised to increase Moscow’s support for the de facto republics, which also undercut the deal.

From that point onward, violence increased steadily. From August through November 2020, the average day saw fewer than ten explosions along the front, but December saw several days with more than 100, with the total sometimes nearing 200. At least eight combatants were killed that month, followed by another seven in January and 21 in February. April 2021 was the deadliest month for combatants since January 2020, with 22 fatalities on both sides combined.

Combat casualties declined in the first months of the July 2020 ceasefire.

That month, Russia massed troops near Ukraine’s border in numbers not seen since 2015, when its forces had helped wage a series of devastating battles on Ukrainian soil. It did so on the pretext of a spike in ceasefire violations at the front, although the separatists it backed were just as responsible as Ukrainian forces for the infractions.

Increasing violence does suggest ... that when peace talks lose momentum, both parties see diminishing incentives to exercise restraint

Moscow’s troop build-up was likely about geopolitical signalling rather than a prelude to a possible incursion. But if, on this occasion, violence in Donbas provided the Kremlin with a convenient, if dubious, alibi for its aggressive behaviour, it does not follow that every uptick in fighting stems from a particular side’s pursuit of political goals. Increasing violence does suggest, however, that when peace talks lose momentum, both parties see diminishing incentives to exercise restraint. As a Ukrainian commander told Crisis Group in 2020, the army needs to either fight or disengage: along the Donbas front lines, troops can hold their fire for only so long in the absence of steps toward peace. Yet, as the April scare demonstrates, any escalation at the front risks handing Moscow an excuse to further threaten Kyiv.

Obstacles to Protecting Civilians

Both sides claim to be defending the lives of their Ukrainian compatriots, suggesting that they should be motivated to agree to better protect civilians. In practice, however, things are not so simple, and military calculations generally prevail over humanitarian concerns.

Separatist leaders have shown themselves more than willing to use civilian casualties for propaganda purposes. Noting that the de facto republics’ constituents make up the majority of live-fire casualties, they cite the numbers of dead and wounded as proof of Kyiv’s villainy. They have also been known to spread highly dubious reports of civilian deaths, possibly to garner greater support from their patrons in Moscow. For example, in April 2021, as Russia was deploying troops to areas bordering Ukraine, they announced that a Ukrainian drone strike had killed a five-year-old boy in a Donetsk suburb. In fact, the boy had died some 15km from the front, out of the Ukrainian drones’ range, possibly by setting off an unexploded shell he found in his yard. (Indeed, Crisis Group data shows that 75 per cent of incidents in which children were killed or injured by unexploded ordnance in 2020-2021 occurred in separatist-held areas, pointing to a genuine problem that de facto authorities should confront.) Meanwhile, de facto officials tend to be unwilling to admit that shooting from positions in areas like the Donetsk suburbs can provoke return fire and lead to civilian deaths. They have baulked at suggestions that they move their troops to keep locals out of the line of fire.

On the other side, public figures in government-controlled Ukraine sometimes overlook or minimise the problem of civilian casualties from live fire. Losses among civilians frequently do not make it into Ukrainian news reports, partly due to journalists’ lack of access to reliable sources in areas across the line; media tends to focus on the heroism of government troops. Some Ukrainians sticking up for the military imply that civilians, particularly in the separatist-controlled areas, are themselves to blame for their fate, having stubbornly remained in their homes while soldiers, as the troops’ defenders see it, are risking life and limb for a greater cause. “Do you think we didn’t have grandmothers when we went off to die? Maybe these are people, but they are not citizens”, a renowned veteran told Crisis Group in 2019, while expressing frustration at President Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s promises to wind down combat in Donbas.

Efforts to limit civilian casualties through stricter ceasefire provisions have also triggered backlash against Ukrainian officials. In mid-2019, Kyiv proposed a ban on return fire. President Zelenskyy’s press secretary defended the proposal, arguing that when government troops shoot back at opponents positioned in populated areas, “our people die, our Ukrainians”. Opposition politicians accused Kyiv of ignoring the imperatives of fighting an invading force; high-ranking military personnel accused the press secretary of defamation, activists said she was echoing Russian propaganda and Ukraine’s prosecutor general summoned her for questioning on the grounds that she was assisting the enemy. The proposal was dropped for the time being, and the sides struck a more lenient agreement. But that 2019 agreement proved weaker, shorter-lived and less clearly beneficial for civilians than the one that followed in 2020, which did integrate a ban on return fire. If avoiding the issue of return fire may have short-term tactical and political benefits, the consequences of doing so deepen resentment among civilians on both sides and only make Kyiv’s climb toward reintegrating its lost territories steeper.

What to Do

The steps that would save lives are evident but difficult. Crisis Group has in the past recommended pursuing mutual disengagement in areas of high civilian traffic. Demining would also help. But international observers with knowledge of the negotiations say combatants are unlikely to disengage from high-traffic areas – which happen to be where the worst fighting of 2014-2015 occurred, as both sides consider them strategically and symbolically significant – without a comprehensive peace settlement. Nor do specialists think that either side – particularly not the de facto republics – will pursue demining as long as fighting continues.

As neither disengagement nor demining is likely, and neither military will move the trenches away from inhabited areas, a few Kyiv lawmakers have proposed relocating inhabitants of those areas as a way to save civilian lives. The idea has many downsides, among them its impracticability in the highly populated non-government-controlled areas. In government-controlled Ukraine, it may be more feasible, and perhaps more acceptable to the population. According to aid workers and staff at the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe ceasefire monitoring mission, more front-line dwellers are seeking to move away than in previous years. Those who stayed to be closer to loved ones on the other side of the line of separation can no longer see them anyway, due to COVID-19 restrictions, even as lockdowns have deepened the economic woes of cities and towns along the front.

The two sides will need to decide that costs of a simmering conflict outweigh the risks of compromise

In any case, none of these measures – disengagement, demining, or relocation – will bring the region the peace that it truly needs. For peace to come, the two sides will need to decide that costs of a simmering conflict outweigh the risks of compromise and an imperfect solution. Crisis Group has developed the visual explainer to illustrate the costs both sides are incurring, as well as the unpredictability and volatility of military activity at the Donbas front lines. The explainer also demonstrates that diplomacy – including that aimed at ceasefires – reduces the level of combat and saves lives. Breaking ceasefires, conversely, gives no one an advantage. In 2020-2021, a period during which a ceasefire was instituted and then fell apart, the two sides appear to have suffered a comparable number of deaths – 146 among the separatists and 112 in the Ukrainian army. Collapsed ceasefires favour neither side; they just lead to a bloodier stalemate.