Abstract In examining different forms of pragmatic peacebuilding—including the turn to the local, hybrid orders, resilience and non-state actors—this article argues that such approaches bring about analytical and normative challenges that are difficult to deal with within state-centred frameworks. As an alternative, the article develops the notion of ‘governscapes’ as a framing device that can help examine, first, the uneven ways in which the use of force and forms of governance circulate and spread within and beyond state boundaries and, second, how pragmatic peacebuilding approaches play into emerging landscapes of authority and governance. It is argued that pragmatic peacebuilding approaches place too little emphasis on the capacity for using violence that characterizes many of the ‘non-state’ actors that exercise some kind of authority against or alongside state authorities. Finally, the article examines cases in which international actors have engaged non-state actors in order to promote peacebuilding. In one case, from the Democratic Republic of Congo, international actors aimed to build multilevel security arrangements; in other cases that the article mentions, international NGOs and organizations have sought, through partial recognition, to make armed non-state actors more accountable to the populations they control. The politics of international peace- and statebuilding seem recently to have moved in a more pragmatic direction, as the articles in the special section of this issue of International Affairs argue.1 Notions such as ‘hybrid peace’, the ‘turn to the local’ and ‘resilience’ signal a change in approach in many international agencies, donor governments and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) in the aftermath of the ambitious liberal democratic peace- and statebuilding projects of the century's first years. This change implies a potentially different role for the not always so liberal democratic forms of authority that defy, challenge or complement state institutions' control over territories and populations.2 Hence, the pragmatic approaches to peacebuilding pose difficult dilemmas and questions as to how—and by whom—such authorities may be conceptualized, approached and held accountable to the populations among which they operate and hold partial or de facto authority. This article argues that the analytical language commonly used by policy-makers and analysts is of limited help in meeting these challenges, and that the predominant, state-centric norms are insufficient as guides for international actors manoeuvring in the landscapes of pragmatic peacebuilding. Using the notion of ‘emerging governscapes’ as a framing device, the article suggests an analytical approach to such landscapes that does not take the (nation-)state as the default norm for societal and political organization. Since concepts such as ‘hybrid orders’ and ‘the local’ tend to downplay the role that force can have in shaping the emerging governscapes, the article foregrounds a reworked notion of sovereignty—sovereign practice—for the analysis. Unlike the notion of sovereignty that structures the international system of territorial states, ‘sovereign practice’ takes into account the importance of authorities related to religious, ethnic and national communities, self-defence groups, vigilantes, brotherhoods, gangs, and similar entities that are articulated through pragmatic approaches to peace. The article proceeds with a short introduction to the framing device, the ‘emerging governscape’, and continues with a characterization of current, pragmatic approaches to peacebuilding, which play into and form part of the emerging governscapes. This is followed by some examples of pragmatic peacebuilding that show how state-centred international norms of ‘what ought to be’ are being moderated as international actors try to manoeuvre through ‘what is’ and make a difference in emerging governscapes shaped by non-state authorities. In conclusion, the article suggests that we should look more carefully at the norms that emerge in the accommodations between what is and what ought to be in the international order. Emerging governscapes To appreciate fully the potential dynamics and effects of pragmatic peacebuilding, I suggest moving beyond a state-centred analytical framework to look at ‘emerging governscapes’. By governscapes I understand landscapes with different constellations of authority and governance that form and spread unevenly within and beyond national boundaries across the globe. Here I draw upon Appadurai's notions of idea-, techno-, finance-, ethno- and media-scapes, which he used to frame his analysis of the globalization of the 1990s.3 At the time, many scholars tended to see these ‘-scapes’ as ‘post-national’, pointing towards the withering away of the state; but in the emerging governscapes of today, the state is still a most powerful form of political organization. Nevertheless, the faculties, symbols and governmental technologies traditionally associated with the state—from flags and uniforms to systems of taxation, civil registers and public services, all of which have circulated between states—are spreading well beyond state institutions. This happens not only through privatization and outsourcing, which have spread globally as neo-liberal templates for governance, but also through appropriation by civil associations, insurgent groups, militias, gangs, criminal organizations and so forth. Not least in ‘areas of limited statehood’,4 where many of today's peacebuilding programmes unfold, sub-, trans- and supranational forms of authority challenge or complement the authority of the central state while projecting images of stateness. The notion of governscapes has three characteristics. First, it is spatial, signalling the irregular geographical reach and intensity of authority and governance, which do not coincide with national boundaries. Often, inhabitants of the same city live with very uneven forms of security provision by public, private or communal forms of authority. Important infrastructures, such as ports, transnational corridors and sites of extractive industries, are subject to different kinds of authority as well as different forms and intensities of governance from their hinterlands. And global cities, provincial elites and insurgent groups sometimes cultivate their own ‘foreign policies’ and transnational relations without respecting national hierarchies of scale. Much of this is not new—think of the historical role of cities, or of indirect private government in colonial Africa—but the image comes into focus when the perspective shifts from the state to the governscape.5 However—and this is a point to which I will return below—the jurisdictions and communities that make up governscapes are not always territorial. Second, as Appadurai suggested, ‘-scapes’ are perspectival rather than objective constructs, depending on the perceptions of particular actors, whether they be states, multinational corporations, diaspora communities, social movements, local communities or families. Thus, ideas of what constitutes legitimate rule—the ‘moral authoritativeness’ of a given order—can differ according to the position and perspective from which they are viewed.6 Governance, in the sense of a predictable and accountable administration of public resources, justice, security and services, is generally seen to increase legitimacy. While ‘governance’ is a highly normative concept associated with the ideal Westphalian state, current research abounds with examples of ‘real governance’ arrangements in which actors other than the state manage education, water provision, security or land regulation.7 In the eyes of the subject populations, such arrangements can lend legitimacy to the authorities in charge; but, as the international forces in Afghanistan had to realize, public services alone do not necessarily win the hearts and minds of the population. Third, governscapes are dynamic, changing over time. To develop this point and explain why they are (always) ‘emerging’, I will introduce the notion of ‘sovereign practice’, which relates to the question of how jurisdictions of de facto authorities come into being and the ways in which populations are subjected to such authorities. In the 1990s, scholars debated the challenges to state sovereignty that came from intensified economic globalization, universalizing human rights discourses, humanitarian intervention, and the lack of effective internal control in ‘quasi-states’.8 Sovereignty was labelled as ‘organized hypocrisy’, but was still understood as an attribute of the internationally recognized territorial state. More recent debates in anthropology, parts of International Relations (IR) and other disciplines, however, have moved from a de jure to a de facto conception of sovereignty, seeking to detach the concept from its historically specific association with the territorial state.9 Basing their analyses on the work of philosophers including Foucault, Agamben and Bataille, who pointed to the importance of life and the body for the performance of sovereignty, some scholars claimed that sovereignty is exercised ‘not over territories, but over life and death’.10 Thus, if we understand sovereignty as a ‘tentative and always emergent form of authority grounded in violence that is performed and designed to generate loyalty, fear, and legitimacy from the neighborhood to the summit of the state’, we open up the field for an exploration of sovereign practice by a range of entities, including militias, gangs, ethnic groups and religious communities.11 Precarious and tentative, sovereignty is an effect of the repeated, performative claims to exercise exclusive control over the lives and vital resources of people within a given purview, and of the more or less legitimate extension and enforcement of ‘some kind of law’.12 The performance of sovereignty—always in the name of a moral or political community—is ambiguous, as it can be both ‘constitutive’ of a new order and ‘constituted’ within existing law and procedure.13 This ambiguity adds a dynamic element to governscapes, as new groups and organizations appear from time to time, performing sometimes constitutive claims to sovereignty that change the relations of authority and governance in existing governscapes. This interpretation of sovereignty represents a break with the predominant understanding of sovereignty as absolute, supreme and indivisible. Rather, as political geographer John Agnew has shown, sovereignty is deeply relational.14 Hence, we have to examine how claimed sovereign domains coexist in partial, overlapping and contingent forms, sometimes in conflict, sometimes in more enduring accommodations. Such relations can be organized spatially around informal territorial boundaries—between gangs, for example—making up a ‘horizontally woven tapestry of partial sovereignties’.15 They can also be organized temporally, with (for example) representatives of the state being present during the dry season, while other authorities and a different kind of law apply in the same spaces during the rainy season; or with a similar variation between daytime and the night hours, as has happened in some refugee camps.16 Owing to the pervasive state claim to sovereignty, we often find constellations where localized sovereign domains are ‘nested’ within higher sovereignties and yet each retains ‘a domain within which control over life and death is operational’.17 Such domains can be networked, as in the case of mafia-like organizations, where the boundaries and relations between the state and other domains are shrouded in secrecy, forming grey zones of collusion and informal accommodation. Such accommodations are contingent and may change. When representatives of a Guatemalan village community claim: ‘Here we are in command’, and the claim is performed through death threats, land occupation, or roadblocks to keep out state security forces, the challenge to state authority is of course relative. State security forces could easily take over the village; but state authorities are forced to make calculations regarding the proportionality of the use of force and the political risks associated with the debates over the legitimacy of claims and the violence that may follow such displays of state force.18 Three examples may serve to give an idea of the different dynamics that drive governscapes in different contexts. First, in what we may call red areas, governscapes are formed by competing, conflicting claims to sovereignty. Old-school insurgent armies, guerrilla groups and independence movements aim at controlling territory and population, although populations are often caught between the overlapping claims of insurgents and government forces. The former deploy violence to establish their claims to sovereignty, but a growing scholarly literature has shown that many of them seek to build legitimacy by developing governance structures, including taxation and some forms of service provision.19 In particular, the movements that present themselves as shadow-states use the languages pertaining to states, but extend the reach of red area governscapes well beyond the borders of the state, by governing diaspora networks (e.g. the Tamil Tigers), engaging in regional and global economic networks, drawing legitimacy from and reinforcing transnational religious communities, or establishing ‘diplomatic relations’ with international organizations.20 In fact, it seems that since the mid-2000s, the development of the internet known as ‘Web 2.0’ has intensified this global dimension in the financing, mobilization and forging of community through information and the projection of violent claims to sovereignty in the ‘new new civil wars’.21 Second, a different kind of governscape has emerged around the more or less formalized outsourcing of (state) sovereignty in areas where state bureaucracy, justice and security have limited reach and effectiveness. They share some features with O'Donnell's ‘brown areas’, where public offices and justice were effectively part of circuits of private power.22 O'Donnell saw these brown areas spreading in the 1990s in newly democratized states (in Latin America and the former Soviet Union) that were simultaneously subjected to harsh structural adjustment. In a somewhat parallel way, globally circulating templates of (neo-liberal) governance, such as decentralization, community policing and legal pluralism, mediated an ambiguous extension of state power in sub-Saharan Africa through formalized links with chieftaincies, elders, community defences or vigilante groups.23 One example of the ensuing dynamic is the way in which the Amadlozi vigilante group, with roots in the South African liberation struggle, was turned into a community policing group in the context of the war on crime.24 While the Amadlozi were in this capacity formally subjected to new human rights standards in democratic South Africa, they continued to practise the kind of violent interrogation and punishment in which the state police could not engage; they just did so in less overt, but still publicly known, ways. Thus, in practice, state sovereignty was outsourced to the Amadlozi to extend the state's war on crime into areas beyond its control; but the Amadlozi also strengthened a sense of moral community in the area of operation. However, as Buur has shown, the relative autonomy that the Amadlozi vigilante group claimed and gained in the early 2000s was only temporary, and remained contingent upon tacit endorsement by allies within the ruling party.25 Finally, we find a third kind of governscape dynamics evolving around security arrangements in urban ‘grey spaces’, the informal economies and settlements in cities across the global South. In contexts of state retrenchment and abandonment, local strongmen and criminal or gang-based organizations offer protection to populations exposed to violence, which may bestow upon the protectors a certain legitimacy and capacity for setting rules and defining inclusion/exclusion. Some such groups even become providers or brokers of essential services. One example is the criminalized ‘donmanship’ that has developed within the political system in Kingston, Jamaica, where the dons used to be local party bosses in poor neighbourhoods. Deeply embedded in the political system, the dons now manage relatively autonomous domains. While people living under their control may characterize them by their ‘fairness, care and even love’, possibilities of dissent, accountability and mobility are severely limited.26 Similar examples of urban governscapes abound, including in states with considerable institutional capacities. In Indonesia, ethnic, religious and localist organizations, such as the Defenders of Islam Front or the Betawi Brotherhood Forum, claim the right to protect, police and tax populations within their areas.27 They combine coercive racketeering with rudimentary social welfare and regulation of land and the informal economy. The leaders have become skilled mediators between the world of formal politics and the members of their organizations, mainly young men with limited education and little access to the benefits of living in a fast-growing economy. Membership offers a sense of belonging, a support network and even a means of political representation, as militias and brotherhoods become involved in local elections in particular.28 Urban governscapes as described here are distinct from the governscapes characterized by forms of outsourced state sovereignty in being characterized by much more shrouded relations between formal and informal or criminal authorities. In his analysis of the sovereign practice of police and the criminal organization Primeira Comando da Capital (PCC) in São Paulo, Willis shows how a silent ‘killing consensus’ has emerged between the PCC and the police.29 This consensus allows the PCC to discipline or kill with impunity people who transgress its strict moral (and even written) code. While this code sets limits on the use of violence, the police tend to consider those subjected to the PCC code as no-good bandidos who can be killed with impunity. The consensus has broken down a couple of times, but otherwise it has contributed to an impression of a more secure city with falling homicide rates. These three kinds of emerging governscapes serve as illustrations of the contexts in which pragmatic peacebuilding, to which I turn next, is pursued, and of which it forms part. Pragmatic peacebuilding In this special section of the current issue of International Affairs, the notion of ‘pragmatic peace’ is used as an umbrella term to denote recent trends in peacebuilding approaches that contrast with the prevailing policy focus of the 2000s on building central state institutions and promoting universal values and practices of liberal democracy and the rule of law. On one level, the ‘pragmatism’ refers to the decreasing appetite for the expensive, hard-security interventions and full-scale statebuilding enterprises that had limited success in Iraq and Afghanistan. In other words, pragmatic peace looks for what is possible in the shorter term and takes a step back from the high ambitions of the liberal peace. Thus, in a move reminiscent of the modest aim of supporting ‘good enough governance’ in development cooperation in the 2000s, the UK Department for International Development (DFID) in 2010 adopted a policy of ‘building peaceful states and societies’ that aimed at reaching levels of ‘good enough security and stability’, while preparing the ground for longer-term change.30 On a different level, however, we can interpret the changing policies in the light of a philosophical pragmatism that ‘challenges the claims of absolutists … and instead embraces uncertainty, provisionality, and the continuous testing of hypotheses through experimentation’.31 While the specific approaches examined here have not been labelled pragmatic as such, they share a concern with the specificity of context, complexity and provisionality that resonates with tenets of philosophical pragmatism. Thus, rather than supplanting local capacities through universal templates, blueprints and ‘best practices’, organizations such as the World Bank and the UN Development Programme (UNDP) have suggested learning (from development research) about how to ‘work with the grain’ and to identify institutions and practices that have developed as a ‘best fit’ to the conditions prevailing in particular contexts.32 More recent innovations in development thinking are also making their way into peacebuilding thinking,33 as de Coning discusses in his article in this section.34 If we understand pragmatic peace as a constructive and iterative engagement with ‘what is’ in terms of actors that challenge or complement the sovereignty and monopolies of the state, we may ask how pragmatic peacebuilders engage with and accommodate the difference between ‘what is’ and ‘what ought to be’ in an international system based on state sovereignty. In what follows I shall briefly introduce the most influential of these approaches, including the turn to the local, to non-state actors, hybrid peace and resilience. The concept of the ‘local’ has enjoyed intense attention in peace and conflict studies recently, and has also entered the world of policy. Advocates of a local turn in peacebuilding have suggested that what may look like a failure of international interventions, for example in Afghanistan, could also be interpreted as the result of the successful agency of local actors who have proved stubbornly resistant to the kind of change imagined along the lines of the liberal peace.35 Such interventions have produced outcomes that may be characterized as ‘hybrid peace’, where local authorities have adapted and incorporated elements of the international agenda into pre-existing institutions and practices while rejecting other elements.36 Researchers have suggested the notion of hybrid orders as an alternative to the rigid state/non-state distinction for characterizing actually existing governance. As defined by Boege and colleagues, this notion refers to systems in which the state has to ‘share authority, legitimacy and capacity with other structures’, including structures based on clan, ethnic or religious identities, patrimonial or patronage systems, and so on.37 The authors do not fall into the trap of considering hybrid orders as a mixture of pre-existing, pure domains of governance. They consider ‘customary’ or ‘traditional’ institutions as being in a state of flux and constant adaptation, which is what makes new forms of order and governance possible when they are combined with modern state institutions. However, the ‘state’ should also be seen as an always negotiated hybrid—think of the British House of Lords, for example—and indeed both ‘state’ and ‘traditional’ authorities draw on a range of overlapping sources of authority.38 In operational terms, the contextualization inherent in the ‘local turn’ and ‘hybrid peace’ approaches is laudable, even though ‘local politics’ and ‘non-state actors’ still appear as enigmatic, as black boxes of secrets that anthropologists and ‘human terrain teams’—such as those fielded in counter-insurgency operations in Afghanistan and Iraq—are expected to open up and help us understand and work with. Analytically, the ‘local’ is fuzzy, and the term is sometimes used in misleading and romanticizing ways. Thus, the local turn has been criticized for ignoring issues of power and dominance, and the resistance of the local towards international intervention has sometimes been confused with the resistance of national elites to international support for local agents of change.39 Likewise, hybrid peace approaches tend to ignore or downplay the role of force in the formation of hybrid orders. For example, advocates of ‘hybrid orders’ have used Somaliland as a case in which councils of elders have played an important role in establishing alliances for peace. However, the use of force at decisive moments in the 1990s was definitely also part of the trajectory that led to Somaliland's establishment as a relatively stable and peaceful de facto state.40 In addition, as the section above on governscapes showed, the local may not be local in the common sense. The local is inherently relational, forged through linkages to national or transnational networks such as political patronage systems or transnational religious communities—a point with implications for peace processes to which I will return in the last section of this article.41 Thus, for example, communal defence groups and local associations of youth, transporters or market people, which make claims to local authority and provide measures of protection for their members and clients, have ambiguous relationships with national governments or politicians. Sometimes they act in favour of their government, sometimes against it, as suggested by Lund's term of ‘twilight institutions’ that operate in a grey zone between state and non-state.42 Parallel to the local turn, the idea of building resilience has become influential in peacebuilding policies. Resilience is defined by the EU as ‘the ability of an individual, a household, a community, a country or a region to withstand, to adapt, and to quickly recover from stresses and shocks’.43 The concept has been commonplace in policies related to environment, climate change and natural disasters, but recently international organizations, donors and NGOs have introduced the admittedly hazy concept in their peace- and statebuilding policies. The World Bank, for example, sees resilience as an answer to the multiple forms of violence that characterize areas of armed conflict, post-conflict societies and large swathes of many cities.44 When organizations working in peacebuilding seek to operationalize resilience, they tend to focus on local communities and the strengths, rather than the fragility and weaknesses, of local institutions in terms of preventing or mitigating the effects of violence.45 Interpeace, for example, looks at existing capacities, such as organizational strength and networks of solidarity, at ‘what brings and holds people together despite conflict’, as well as ‘what works’ and has been proved to work in the past.46 In terms of implementation, the UNDP and Mercy Corps urge practitioners to recognize that social systems are complex and non-linear, and to move away from conventional attempts to ‘control change and create stability’, towards attempts to manage ‘systemic capacities to cope with, adapt to, and create pathways for change’.47 Based on an understanding that the ‘most appropriate solutions will “emerge” naturally’, programming must be conceived of as a ‘rapid succession of short cycle, carefully monitored projects’, which can inform learning processes and further adaptation.48 This approach embodies, in other words, a form of pragmatism in the philosophical sense. Notwithstanding the focus on communities and households, policy-makers have also applied the concept of resilience to states that are ‘capable of absorbing shocks and transforming and channeling radical change or challenges while maintaining political stability and preventing violence’, as the OECD Development Assistance Committee (DAC) has explained.49 But even so, the focus moves away from central state institutions. As Pospisil and Kühn have shown in an analysis of 43 policy papers, the shift from a ‘fragility’ to a ‘resilience’ lens tends to focus attention on state–society relations, the political settlements upon which states rest, issues of legitimacy, community-building, hybrid orders and complexity.50 Thus, faced with their recent experience of statebuilding, donors and international organizations have realized the need to engage with a broad range of state and non-state partners and to build on existing resources.51 These include ‘informal networks and institutions’,52 and ‘the institutions that provide citizen security, justice, and jobs’, which are ‘crucial in creating resilience to repeated cycles of violence’.53 Such institutions, the World Bank has suggested, should be managed politically through ‘collaborative, inclusive-enough coalitions’. In the sectors of security and justice in particular, the OECD, the World Bank, USAID and others have propagated a ‘multilayered’ approach. Recognizing, first, that building accountable and capable state institutions will take many years, and, second, that elders, chiefs, clan militias, community self-defence groups and similar entities can enjoy more legitimacy and be more efficient providers of security and justice than state actors, a multilayered approach seeks to incorporate and coordinate such non-state actors in the short to medium term.54 Much like the notions of the local and the non-state, ‘resilience’ suffers from its vagueness and positive connotations. As recent assessments have observed, resilience is not inherently ‘good’.55 Authoritarian regimes can be very resilient in the face of shocks, and the analytical focus on sovereign practice suggests that the formation and resilience of a political or moral community will often be contingent upon the control of access to vital resources or the capacity for violence. In fact, we should consider resilience as having both a dark and a light side.56 This section has shown how pragmatic approaches to peacebuilding tend to include non-state actors visible primarily at subnational levels, where they can have positive impacts on peace processes. By giving more space to such actors, these policies play into the emerging governscapes described in the previous section. However, the concepts that have found their way into the policies do not analytically take sufficiently into account the role that the capacity for using force, providing protection, controlling access to vital resources and other forms of sovereign practice may play in the formation of authority and political/moral communities beyond the central state. The next section of the article examines a couple of cases in which international actors have tried to work pragmatically with armed actors who hold (partial) de facto control over populations. Norms, legitimacy and recognition: between ‘what is’ and ‘what should be’ Thinking about pragmatic peace in the context of emerging governscapes poses the question of how interveners, facilitators and mediators orientate themselves and make decisions about which actors to recognize and support in further participation in ongoing (peace) processes. Norms are obviously helpful in providing orientation, but there is often a gap between ‘what is’ (the normal, in the specific context concerned) and ‘what ought to be’ (the norm, according to the international order). In a global order based on the sovereign territorial state, the norms set out in international law and human rights law are, not surprisingly, state-centred. This section considers some of the problems and dilemmas around the question of legitimacy that pragmatic peace initiatives encounter or generate when they engage with ‘what is’ in emerging governscapes. The examples concern (1) international organizations' experiments with multilayered security in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), and (2) international engagements with armed non-state actors (ANSAs) in the attempt to make them more responsible in relation to the populations who live in their areas of control or influence; this includes international engagement by the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) in cities in countries that are not involved in armed conflict and hence lie outside the mandate of the organization. Multilayered security in the DRC Under the headings of ‘multilayered security’ and ‘plural policing’, donors, NGOs and international organizations have experimented with alternatives to state-centred security sector reforms to promote peace in countries where state security forces have limited legitimacy or reach, and where other actors provide protection and various other forms of public service. One case is the DRC, characterized by highly complex governscapes including features of all three types outlined above: ‘brown’ (with privatized and outsourced sovereignty), ‘red’ (with more antagonistic claims to sovereignty) and ‘grey’ (urban/crime-orientated version). The UN has followed a traditional, state-centred approach with limited success,57 but for some years both its mission MONUSCO and international NGOs have attempted to support local groups that engage in communal self-protection against crime and abuse by state and opposition armies. One example is rural Ituri in the east of the DRC, where the weakened and increasingly fragmented Forces de Résistance Patriotique d'Ituri (FRPI), among several other armed factions, still make claims to sovereignty over territory and people, some of whom continue to consider the organization a source of protection and representation of their otherwise marginalized ethnic groups.58 MONUSCO is prohibited by its mandate from engaging with with the FRPI, but the UN mission has supported inclusive ‘community alert networks’ and ‘protection committees’ with elders, local government representatives and others in the area, to enable them to take on a more robust role in security governance. However, in the midst of several competing claims to sovereignty, people are afraid of speaking up and cooperating with MONUSCO, which, for many reasons—including an ambiguous mandate and strict security guidelines—is unable to provide the necessary protection for people. Meanwhile, international NGOs have worked with ‘youth committees’ in Ituri's urban areas, which are no longer at war. These committees played a key role in providing protection during the Ituri war, but after the war tended to turn to vigilante violence to control crime. Through engagement and support, NGOs have tried to harness the youth committees' potential to reduce crime by acting as a kind of community police, while limiting their use of violence. The results have been mixed. Crime rates have decreased, but the youth committees have occasionally reverted to vigilantism as the state police has not taken on its assigned role of providing protection and back-up.59 Thus, experience (as documented so far) shows that these initiatives do not necessarily lead to improved security through increased collaboration and coordination in multilayered security arrangements. Rather, the attempts to strengthen youth committees and inclusive security committees have increased fragmentation and competition between security actors in security governance in the area, thus complicating governscapes even further. In addition to the national army, many small armed groups operate in the region (self-identifying as ‘Mai-Mai’).60 Many of these are supported by politicians and state agents, civil as well as military, who enhance their own power by using the armed groups as force multipliers against antagonistic forces such as the FRPI, to enforce local government decisions or dispute solutions, to persuade people to vote for them in elections, and so on. The national army itself has a parallel structure of patron–client networks incorporating ‘non-state’ security actors that are in fact embedded in multilayered networks straddling state and non-state spheres.61 The implication is that pragmatic peacebuilding in this kind of governscape cannot address ‘local’ or ‘non-state’ actors alone, since these are embedded in national and even transnational networks. Even when state institutions are seemingly absent or have limited effective presence locally, peacebuilding has to address central state institutions if local conflicts are to be solved.62 Stretching international norms: engaging ‘armed non-state actors’ In the DRC, as in other countries that have gone through peace processes, armed opposition groups, often labelled ANSAs,63 have been recognized, included in demobilization programmes, integrated in national armies and/or given political representation. As Verweijen writes in her excellent report on political settlements in the DRC, this approach is bound to fail in many cases because of the lack of internal coherence of ANSAs and their often predatory behaviour against the communities they claim to represent: ‘Integrating these groups did little to address community grievances or solve local conflicts.’64 Nevertheless, elsewhere there have been pragmatic attempts to engage in negotiations with armed groups that claim the sovereign right to use violence in the name of ‘their’ community, not with the aim of demobilizing and disarming them in the context of official peace agreements, but with a view to making them accountable to the people living in their areas of control or influence. In the post-9/11 era, initiatives of this kind have represented a counter-trend to the widespread tendency of states and international organizations to regard armed non-state actors as threats to security, ‘terrorists’, and spoilers in peace- and statebuilding efforts. Within the UN, humanitarian actors have criticized this lack of engagement because of the problems of access that it represents for them, and the missed opportunities for peace negotiation.65 The assumption underlying these initiatives is that, depending on their specific trajectories of formation, ANSAs can have important stabilizing roles if they ‘successfully institutionalize and turn their violent domination into political power’.66 This kind of engagement does not sit comfortably with the international norms of a state-centred world. In cases where the conflict in which ANSAs are involved is classified as a ‘non-international armed conflict’, international humanitarian law (IHL) provides a set of norms that hold them responsible for the protection of civilians. However, as the ICRC argues, since ANSAs cannot ratify or formally become party to IHL treaties, ‘armed groups may consider themselves technically not bound by the international obligations specified in treaty law’.67 Also, the ‘non-state’ status of ANSAs entails some limitations in terms of the enforcement of IHL. Thus, for example, even though sovereign states that have signed up to IHL treaties are responsible for violations committed by armed groups within their territories, governments—in particular in areas of limited statehood—are often severely constrained in their ability to enforce prosecution.68 Despite these limitations, NGOs such as Geneva Call work to make ANSAs—including armed political movements, de facto authorities, and entities claiming statehood but not internationally recognized as states—more responsible for the protection of civilians in armed conflict.69 Geneva Call uses as a bargaining chip the kind of recognition and legitimacy that the publicized signature of a deed of commitment can bring. By this means the organization has had some success in binding ANSAs to IHL and increasing their adherence to bans on landmines, to the protection of children and to the prohibition of sexual violence.70 Whereas this kind of engagement may not be ‘peacebuilding proper’, it aims at reducing violence against populations under the control of ANSAs, and has implications for the perception of these actors' legitimacy, both ‘internally’ among their members and subjects, and also ‘externally’ among states and international organizations. These are also some of the issues at stake in ongoing discussions on ‘principled approaches’ to ANSAs that provide various kinds of public services in their areas of control or influence.71 According to the organization ‘Protect Education in Insecurity and Conflict’, one-third of ANSAs worldwide provide some form of education, and the organization engages in ‘multilateral diplomacy and advocacy’ to ensure children's right to education, including in times and areas of armed conflict.72 The same applies in the field of health services, which have to varying extents been provided by ANSAs including FARC in Colombia, Hezbollah in Lebanon, the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam in Sri Lanka, the Communist Party of Nepal-Maoist and the Karen National Liberation Army in Myanmar. As these examples suggest, ANSAs of this kind are hierarchical organizations that hold territory and perceive themselves as a kind of state actor in their own right in what we may regard as a red type of governscape. The challenge of engaging the myriad atomized armed groups that operate in wars such as that in Syria is on a very different scale. Another experimental set of international initiatives focuses on urban governscapes with multiple forms of authority and high rates of crime, including homicide. Sometimes such areas are talked about as ‘fragile cities’, another concept that indicates a shift from state to substate level in international attention.73 Recently the ICRC has engaged in large cities in countries that are officially at peace, such as Brazil, Jamaica and Mexico. Since the ICRC is bound by an international mandate related to armed conflict, the organization is clearly exploring ‘situations on the periphery of its mandate where it can offer its services on the basis of its right of humanitarian initiative’, as a political adviser in the organization has put it.74 Just as in situations of armed conflict, delegates collect information on depredations, determine whether the acts concerned are ‘violations of the relevant international law’, and make ‘confidential representations to the de jure or de facto authorities, urging that violations be stopped; finally they monitor the situation of the people to be protected’.75 As noted above, some armed groups in urban governscapes are more than gangs or protection rackets, and engage in various forms of governance, such as providing food aid to people in their areas of influence. Therefore, as the ICRC has found, they do not necessarily see the point of humanitarian operations conducted by outside organizations when they themselves have the means to make this kind of gesture to ‘win them sympathy’.76 For the ICRC, whose mandate is based on the principle of territorial state sovereignty, these operations represent a legal dilemma regarding the use of ‘armed conflict’ to characterize these situations. First, IHL was not developed for these purposes, and is therefore not necessarily appropriate in such contexts; and second, IHL represents a lower standard of protection than normal human rights law through which states are made responsible to their citizens. The engagement of the ICRC and other humanitarian agencies in countries such as Brazil and Mexico is therefore somewhat awkward. International law does not quite fit the circumstances; and the engagement both indicates an international quasi-recognition of gangs and cartels as authorities with responsibility over population and territory, and draws attention to the incapacity of state institutions to exercise a monopoly on violence. However, the point here is that it is happening—and that, as Muggah and Savage have suggested, international organizations lack ‘the language and practical tools’ to fully engage with informal urban authorities of this kind.77 We need to know more about how such authorities emerge, develop and disappear, how they are linked to national and transnational networks, authorities and circulating templates of governance, and how residents build their lives between overlapping claims to sovereignty. Conclusions This article has coined the notion of ‘emerging governscapes’ to help improve our understanding of the contexts of which pragmatic peacebuilding forms part and to point towards an analytical approach that does not take the state as an unproblematized concept. The various articles in the special section of this issue of the journal examine pragmatic peacebuilding as a cluster of attempts by international organizations, NGOs and donors to focus their interventions on existing capacities and actors beyond the state, alongside more limited ambitions and expectations in terms of the engineering of liberal democratic states and political orders. This implies that international actors have to confront difficult dilemmas and questions regarding the legitimacy of ‘non-state’ actors and institutions and their potential for contributing to peace. As pointed out by critics of the turn towards the local, hybrid orders, resilience and the ‘non-state’, pragmatic approaches tend to give very limited attention to the complex distribution of capacities for violence and domination that characterize many areas of limited statehood. Therefore, this article has focused on sovereign practice as a way to understand how multiple actors claim sovereignty and produce authority through a mixture of force and forms of governance. This approach does not rule out potentially constructive effects of (the capacity for using) violence and other forms of sovereign practice beyond the state. Whether a given authority enjoys legitimacy among the subject population is an empirical question. Recognizing and working with the kind of authorities that this article has examined is hardly a recipe for statebuilding. However, as a mode of conflict resolution it can be ‘the best of [a number of] bad options’, as Raeymaekers and his colleagues have argued in the case of post-conflict African states—a mode that enables states to claim a minimum of authority in areas that formerly escaped their political control.78 Nevertheless, as the example from the DRC shows, international support for groups that work to provide local protection risks increasing complexity and competition, including with illegitimate state security forces. The local is never just local, but is permeated by state, international and transnational relations and templates. The article has also presented examples of attempts to accommodate so-called ANSAs within international relations and law to enhance their accountability vis-à-vis the populations they control, and in this way to bridge the gap between what ‘ought to be’ and what ‘is’. However, in our state-centred international system, we do not have a well-developed language or concepts for talking about the emerging governscapes of which pragmatic peacebuilding forms part. There are no international principles or patterns for recognition of ANSAs, and research into this field is limited.79 This has been especially so since 9/11 and the potential extension of the appellation ‘terrorist’ to any non-state actor that uses violence. An alternative would be to consider local perceptions of legitimacy and the ways in which some ANSAs seek to set limits on their use of violence and to provide some sort of public goods and representation.80 This endeavour is of course easier when peacebuilders are working with armed groups of a certain size that have clear command and control structures. Much more complicated are the situations, as in Syria, where armed groups are small, numerous, fragmented and short-lived. In a critique of ‘hybrid political order’ approaches, Kate Meagher warns that the naturalization or justification of sometimes violent and unaccountable operators of hybrid security arrangements needs a critical reassessment. She notes the tension that exists between power and legitimacy in local informal orders and raises the question of whose interest these forms of order serve.81 Meagher suggests sharpening rather than blurring the analytical distinction between formal and informal authorities, and, through comparative empirical studies, seeking to distinguish between ‘constructive and corrosive forms of non-state order’. Otherwise, she argues, we risk playing into the development of cheaper, leaner and meaner forms of governance. While this analysis raises highly relevant concerns and problems regarding pragmatic peacebuilding, they are not really different from the concerns raised by international engagement with states. We also need to address the questions of how and by whom such normative judgements should be fixed, and whence more expensive, expansive and benevolent forms of peacebuilding will in fact come. Even though state sovereignty is being reinforced in some quarters, there is no reason to believe that it will be irrelevant in the near future to read the world through a lens of emerging governscapes or similar concepts. 1 For their insightful and inspiring comments on previous drafts of this article, I thank Louise Wiuff Moe, Tobias Hagmann, Monique Nuijten, Lars Buur, three anonymous reviewers, and the participants of the ‘Pragmatic Peace’ workshop at the Danish Institute of International Studies in Copenhagen. 2 This is not to say that all actions by liberal democratic states are liberal democratic in character. 3 Arjun Appadurai, ‘Disjuncture and difference in the global cultural economy’, Public Culture 2: 2, 1990, pp. 295–310. 4 Thomas Risse, ‘Governance in areas of limited statehood: introduction and overview’, in T. Risse, ed., Governance without a state: policies and politics in areas of limited statehood (New York: Columbia University Press, 2011), pp. 1–35. 5 A spatial perspective in International Relations is not new either. See e.g. John Gerard Ruggie, ‘Territoriality and beyond: problematizing modernity in International Relations’, International Organization 47: 1, 1993, pp. 139–74; R. B. J. Walker, Inside/outside: International Relations as political theory (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993). 6 Max Weber, Economy and society: an outline of interpretive sociology (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978), vol. 1, p. 15, n. 4. 7 Risse, ‘Governance in areas of limited statehood’; Jean-Pierre Olivier de Sardan, Researching the practical norms of real governance in Africa, discussion paper 5 (London: Overseas Development Institute, 2008), p. 2. 8 See e.g. Jarat Chopra and Thomas G. Weiss, ‘Sovereignty is no longer sacrosanct: codifying humanitarian intervention’, Ethics and International Relations 6: 2, 1992, pp. 95–117; Robert H. Jackson, Quasi-states: sovereignty, international relations and the Third World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993); Saskia Sassen, Losing control? Sovereignty in the age of globalization (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996); Stephen D. Krasner, Sovereignty: organized hypocrisy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999). 9 Wendy Brown, Walled states, waning sovereignty (New York: Zone, 2010). 10 Veena Das and Deborah Poole, eds, Anthropology in the margins of the state (Santa Fe, NM: School for Advanced Research Press, 2004), p. 11. For a development of the argument, see Thomas Blom Hansen and Finn Stepputat, eds, Sovereign bodies (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005). 11 Thomas Blom Hansen and Finn Stepputat, ‘Sovereignty revisited’, Annual Review of Anthropology 35, 2006, pp. 295–317 at p. 297. 12 Jean Comaroff and John L. Comaroff, eds, Law and disorder in the post-colony (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 2006), p. 35. 13 See Walter Benjamin, ‘Critique of violence’, in Reflections, ed. P. Demetz (New York: Schocken, 1978), pp. 277–300. 14 John Agnew, Globalization and sovereignty (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2009). 15 Comaroff and Comaroff, eds, Law and disorder, p. 35. 16 James C. Scott, The art of not being governed: an anarchist history of upland southeast Asia (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2009). 17 Caroline Humphrey, ‘Sovereignty’, in David Nugent and Joan Vincent, eds, A companion to the anthropology of politics (Oxford: Blackwell, 2004), pp. 418–36 at p. 420. 18 Finn Stepputat, ‘Formations of sovereignty at the frontier of the modern state’, Conflict and Society: Advances in Research 1, 2015, pp. 129–43. 19 Zachariah Mampilly, Rebel rulers: insurgent governance and civilian life during war (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2011); Ana Arjona, Nelson Kasfir and Zachariah Mampilly, eds, Rebel governance in civil war (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015); Klaus Schlichte and Ulrich Schneckener, ‘Armed groups and the politics of legitimacy’, Civil Wars 17: 4, 2015, pp. 409–24. 20 Schlichte and Schneckener, ‘Armed groups and the politics of legitimacy’. 21 Barbara F. Walter, ‘The new new civil wars’, Annual Review of Political Science, 20, 2017, pp. 469–86. 22 Guillermo O'Donnell, ‘On the state, democratization and some conceptual problems: a Latin American view with glances at some postcommunist countries’, World Development 21: 8, 1993, pp. 1355–69. 23 See e.g. Lars Buur and Helene Kyed, eds, State recognition and democratization in sub-Saharan Africa: a new dawn for traditional authorities? (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007); Peter A. Albrecht and Louise W. Moe, ‘The simultaneity of authority in hybrid orders’, Peacebuilding 3: 1, 2015, pp. 1–16. 24 The case is developed in Lars Buur, ‘The sovereign outsourced: local justice and violence in Port Elizabeth’, in Hansen and Stepputat, eds, Sovereign bodies, pp. 192–218. 25 Lars Buur, ‘Reordering society: vigilantism and expressions of sovereignty in Port Elizabeth's townships’, Development and Change 37: 4, 2006, pp. 735–57. 26 Rivke Jaffe, ‘Criminal dons and extra-legal security privatization in downtown Kingston, Jamaica’, Singapore Journal of Tropical Geography 33: 2, 2012, pp. 184–92. 27 Ian D. Wilson, The politics of protection rackets in post-new order Indonesia (London: Routledge, 2015). 28 Wilson, The politics of protection rackets. 29 Graham Denyer Willis, The killing consensus: police, organized crime, and the regulation of life and death in urban Brazil (Oakland: University of California Press, 2015). 30 Building peaceful states and societies (London: DFID, 2010), p. 37. 31 James T. Kloppenberg, Reading Obama: dreams, hope, and the American political tradition (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012), p. xxxiv. 32 World Bank, World Development Report: conflict, security and development (Washington DC, 2011); UNDP, Governance for peace: securing the social contract (New York, 2012). The notion of ‘fit’ can be traced to David Korten, ‘Community organization and rural development: a learning process approach’, Public Administration Review 2: 2, 1980, pp. 480–511. See also David Booth and Tim Kelsall, ‘Going with the grain in African development?’, Development Policy Review 26: 6, 2008, pp. 627–55. 33 Such innovations include ‘problem-driven iterative adaptation’, ‘doing development differently’ and ‘thinking and working politically’. For an overview, see Oxfam, ‘Where have we got to on adaptive learning, thinking and working politically, doing development differently etc.? Getting beyond the People's Front of Judea’, 9 June 2016, http://oxfamblogs.org/fp2p/where-have-we-got-to-on-adaptive-learning-thinking-and-working-politically-doing-development-differently-etc-getting-beyond-the-peoples-front-of-judea/. (Unless otherwise noted at point of citation, all URLs cited in this article were accessible on 1 Nov. 2017.) 34 Cedric de Coning, ‘Adaptive peacebuilding’, International Affairs 94: 2, March 2018, pp. 000–00 below/above. 35 See e.g. Oliver Richmond and Audra Mitchell, eds, Hybrid forms of peace: from everyday agency to post-liberalism (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012). 36 Richmond and Mitchell, Hybrid forms of peace. See also V. Boege, A. Brown, K. Clements and A. Nolan, ‘On hybrid political orders and emerging states: what is failing—states in the global South or research and politics in the West?’, in M. Fischer and B. Schmelzle, eds, Building peace in the absence of states, Berghof Handbook Dialogue 8 (Berlin: Berghof Foundation, 2009), pp. 15–35. 37 Boege et al., ‘On hybrid political orders’, p. 24. 38 Peter Albrecht and Louise Wiuff Moe, ‘The simultaneity of authority in hybrid orders’, Peacebuilding 3: 1, 2015, pp. 1–16. 39 Thania Paffenholz, in ‘Unpacking the local turn in peacebuilding; a critical assessment towards an agenda for future research’, Third World Quarterly 36: 5, 2015, pp. 857–74, gives the examples of Guatemala in the late 1990s and Kenya. 40 Dominik Balthasar, ‘Somaliland's best kept secret: shrewd politics and war projects as means of state-making’, Journal of Eastern African Studies 7: 2, 2013, pp. 218–38. 41 Caroline Hughes, Joakim Öjendal and Isabell Schierenbeck, ‘The struggle versus the song—the local turn in peacebuilding: an introduction’, Third World Quarterly 36: 5, 2015, pp. 817–24 at p. 818. 42 Christian Lund, ‘Twilight institutions: public authority and local politics in Africa’, Development and Change 37: 4, 2006, pp. 685–705. 43 European Commission, Action Plan for Resilience in Crisis Prone Countries 2013–2020 (Brussels, 2013), p. 3. 44 World Bank, World Development Report: conflict, security and development; European Commission, Action Plan for Resilience. 45 Philippe Bourbeau, ‘Resilience and international politics: premises, debates, agenda’, International Studies Review 17: 3, 2015, pp. 374–95. 46 See Interpeace, Using resilience to build peace. Practice brief: resilience and peacebuilding, 2 June 2016, p. 3, http://www.interpeace.org/resource/using-resilience-to-build-peace-practice-brief-resilience-and-peacebuilding/. 47 UNDP with Mercy Corps, Stabilization and resilience in protracted, politically induced emergencies: a case study exploration of Lebanon (Beirut: UNDP, 2015), p. 11, http://www.lb.undp.org/content/lebanon/en/home/library/poverty/stabilization-and-resilience-in-protracted-.html. 48 UNDP with Mercy Corps, Stabilization and resilience, pp. 4, 11. 49 OECD DAC, Supporting statebuilding in situations of conflict and fragility: policy guidance (Paris: OECD, 2011), p. 21. 50 Jan Pospisil and Florian Kühn, ‘The resilient state: new regulatory modes in international approaches to state building’, Third World Quarterly, 37: 1, 2016, pp. 1–16. 51 OECD DAC, Supporting statebuilding. 52 UNDP, Governance for peace: securing the social contract (New York, 2012), p. 11. 53 World Bank, World Development Report: conflict, security and development, p. 271. 54 For an early example, see Eric Scheye and Andrew McLean, ‘Enhancing the delivery of justice and security in fragile states’, paper submitted to OECD DAC Fragile States Working Group, 2006. 55 Interpeace, Using resilience to build peace; Lauren Van Metre, ‘State of the art. Resilience as a peacebuilding practice: to realism from idealism’, Insights, Summer 2014 (Washington DC: US Institute of Peace); Bourbeau, ‘Resilience and international politics’. 56 Bourbeau, ‘Resilience and international politics’. 57 UN Security Council, ‘Letter dated 16 October 2015 from the Coordinator of the Group of Experts established pursuant to Security Council Resolution 2198 (2015) addressed to the President of the Security Council’, http://www.securitycouncilreport.org/atf/cf/%7B65BFCF9B-6D27-4E9C-8CD3-CF6E4FF96FF9%7D/s_2015_797.pdf. 58 This section is based primarily on Kasper Hoffmann, Koen Vlassenroot and Karen Büscher, Multilayered security governance as a quick fix? The challenges of donor-supported, bottom-up security provision in Ituri (DR Congo), Justice and Security Research Programme paper no. 33 (London: London School of Economics and Danish Institute for International Studies, 2016). 59 Hoffmann et al., Multilayered security governance as a quick fix?. 60 Judith Verweijen, Stable instability: political settlements and armed groups in the Congo (London: Rift Valley Institute, 2016). 61 Verweijen, Stable instability. 62 See also the discussion that ensued in J. Stearns, K. Vlassenroot, K. Hoffmann and T. Carayannis, ‘Congo's inescapable state: the trouble with the local’, Foreign Policy, 16 March 2017, https://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/democratic-republic-congo/2017-03-16/congos-inescapable-state. 63 Geneva Centre for the Democratic Control of Armed Forces (DCAF) and Geneva Call, Armed non-state actors: current trends and future challenges, DCAF Horizon 2015 working paper no. 5 (Geneva: DCAF, 2011). 64 Verweijen, Stable instability. 65 See e.g. the call for engagement with ANSAs in UN, Report of the Secretary-General on the protection of civilians in armed conflict, S/2015/453 (New York, 18 June 2015), para. 62. 66 Sukanya Podder, ‘Non-state armed groups and stability: reconsidering legitimacy and inclusion’, Contemporary Security Policy 34: 1, 2013, p. 34. 67 ICRC, Increasing respect for international humanitarian law in non-international armed conflicts (Geneva, 2008), p. 19. 68 Stephanie Herr, ‘Constraining the conduct of non-state armed groups’, in Anja P. Jacobi and K. D. Wolf, eds, The transnational governance of violence and crime: non-state actors in security (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013), pp. 40–60. 69 DCAF and Geneva Call, Armed non-state actors. 70 Herr, ‘Constraining the conduct of non-state armed groups’. 71 Michael Keating and Patricia Lewis, Towards a principled approach to engagement with non-state armed groups for humanitarian purposes (London: Chatham House, 2016). 72 See http://educationandconflict.org/. 73 See e.g. the ‘Fragile Cities Index’, https://igarape.org.br/en/apps/fragile-cities-data-visualization/. 74 Marion Harroff-Tavel, ‘Violence and humanitarian action in urban areas: new challenges, new approaches’, International Review of the Red Cross 92: 878, 2010, pp. 329–50 at p. 345. 75 Harroff-Tavel, ‘Violence and humanitarian action in urban areas’, p. 344. 76 Harroff-Tavel, ‘Violence and humanitarian action in urban areas’, p. 346. 77 Robert Muggah and Kevin Savage, ‘Urban violence and humanitarian action: engaging the fragile city’, Journal of Humanitarian Assistance, Jan. 2012, http://www.sites.tufts.edu/jha/archives/1524. 78 Timothy Raeymaekers, Ken Menkhaus and Koen Vlassenroot, ‘State and non-state regulation in African protracted crises: governance without government?’, Africa Focus 21: 2, 2008, pp. 7–21 at p. 18. 79 Schlichte and Schneckener, ‘Armed groups and the politics of legitimacy’. See also, however. UNICEF, Programme guidance note on engaging non-state entities in humanitarian action (New York, Nov. 2011). 80 Mampilly, Rebel rulers, p. 71. Before 9/11 analysts usually relied on a distinction between ‘roving bandits’ and ‘legitimate insurgencies’, the latter being groups that sought to generate consent by non-coercive means. 81 Kate Meagher, ‘Non-state security forces and hybrid governance in Africa’, Development and Change 43: 5, 2012, pp. 1073–1101 at p. 1097. © The Author(s) 2018. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of The Royal Institute of International Affairs. All rights reserved. For permissions, please e-mail: email@example.com.
International Affairs – Oxford University Press
Published: Mar 1, 2018
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