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DECH dech12380 Dispatch: November 27, 2017 CE:
Journal MSP No. No. of pages: 25 PE: Kirsten
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UNCORRECTED PROOF
Public Authority and Conservation in Areas of Armed
Conflict: Virunga National Park as a ‘State within a
State’ in Eastern Congo
Esther Marijnen
Q1
ABSTRACT
Much research on nature conservation in war-torn regions focuses on the
destructive impact of violent conflict on protected areas, and argues that
transnational actors should step up their support for those areas to mitigate
the risks that conflict poses to conservation efforts there. Overlooked are the
effects transnational efforts have on wider conflict dynamics and structures
of public authority in these regions. This article describes how transnational
actors increasingly gained influence over the management of Virunga Na-
tional Park in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), and how these
actors contributed to the militarization of conservation in Virunga. Most
scholarly literature suggests that ‘green militarization’ contributes to the ex-
tension of state authority over territory and population, yet this is not the case
in Virunga. Instead, the militarization of Virunga translates into practices of
extra-state territorialization, with the result that many in the local population
perceive the park’s management as a project of personalized governance
and/or a ‘state within a state’. This article thus argues that it is important to
depart from an a priori notion of the ‘state’ when considering the nexus of
conservation practices and territorialization, and to analyse this intersection
through the lens of public authority instead.
INTRODUCTION
In 1948 the Swiss biologist Heini Hediger stood before a group of European
scientists about to enter the Albert National Park in what was then the Belgian
Congo. ‘Lucky men’, he is reported to have told them. ‘Not only are you
going to visit a biological paradise but — even if it is a bit of a state within
The author is grateful to four anonymous reviewers for providing critical comments on earlier
drafts of the article. In addition, she would like to thank Bram B¨
uscher, Elisabeth Lunstrum,
Judith Verweijen and Koen Vlassenroot for their constructive feedback. A first draft of this article
was presented in September 2014 at the ‘Public Authority at the Edge of the State’ workshop
hosted by Ghent University, where, among others, Tobias Hagmann and Jeroen Cuvelier gave
invaluable feedback.
Development and Change 00(0): 1–25. DOI: 10.1111/dech.12380
C⃝2017 International Institute of Social Studies.
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UNCORRECTED PROOF
2Esther Marijnen
a state — you will see the organization that functions the best in Belgian
Congo’ (cited in Verschuren and Mbaelele, 2006: 79). More than half a
century later, conducting fieldwork in the park — now known as Virunga
National Park — I met numerous Congolese observers who perceive the park
in just that way, as a ‘state within a state’, and representatives of aid donors
who perceive the park as a place that ‘works’ in the otherwise chaotic and
conflict-ridden eastern DRC. This article analyses the stubborn persistence
of this perception.
As Virunga National Park is located in a region of exceptional biological
diversity that for more than two decades has also been characterized by vio-
lent conflict, its conservation is approached with the aim of ‘holding the fort’.
In this article, I show how the desire of international actors to ‘save’ Virunga
from its violent context has produced a certain mode of ‘crisis conservation’,
characterized by an increasing transnationalization and militarization of park
management. Furthermore, I outline how various practices associated with
this mode serve to co-constitute structures of public authority in the wider
Virunga area.
The existing literature on conservation efforts in conflict areas focuses
on the negative impact of violent conflict upon nature, wildlife and human
populations (Biswas and Tortajada-Quiroz, 1996; Werikhe et al., 1998).
It is often argued that transnational actors should increase their support for
imperilled protected areas in order to reinforce these areas’ boundaries and to
restore the ‘rule of law’. However, there is a significant discrepancy between
the ‘back to the barriers’ approach that puts ‘great emphasis on formal (state)
enforced structures of regulation and conservation in conserving nature’
(B¨
uscher and Dietz, 2005: 1), and the actual structures in place in war-torn
regions. In many conflict zones, formal state structures have deteriorated,
the ‘state’ is an object of contention, and a range of state and non-state actors
exercise public authority and provide public services (Hoffmann et al., 2016;
Vlassenroot and Raeymaekers, 2008). These conditions are evident in the
Congolese state institution responsible for the management of protected
areas, L’Institut Congolais pour la Conservation de la Nature (ICCN), The
Congolese Institute for the Conservation of Nature. In the course of multiple
cycles of violent conflict in the region the ICCN has loosened or lost control
and authority over various protected areas in eastern DRC.
Faced with the reality of weakened state protections and an increased threat
to the integrity of the park, the European Commission (EC), a long-time
supporter of Virunga, in 2005 proposed a limited public–private partnership
(PPP) between the DRC government in Kinshasa and the African Conserva-
tion Fund (ACF), a London-based NGO. Under a revised PPP in 2010, the
entire responsibility for managing the park was transferred from the ICCN
to the ACF, which in 2014 changed its name to the Virunga Foundation.
Moreover, from 2008 onwards, the EC started to subsidize around 80 per
cent of park management costs through the ACF (see also Marijnen, 2017).
According to an EC document, a ‘wide-reaching reform programme and
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UNCORRECTED PROOF
Virunga National Park: A ‘State within a State’ in DRC 3
institutional support for the Protected Area Authority [would] enable park
rangers to more effectively protect the forest and discourage the presence
of armed militias’ (EC, 2011: 27). Subsequently, the transnationalized park
authorities began to militarize their conservation efforts to protect Virunga
National Park and to restore the ‘rule of law’.
Much of the extant literature suggests that militarized conservation ef-
forts — even those instigated or financed by transnational actors — often
contribute to the expansion of state control over territory and populations
(Lunstrum, 2013; Neumann, 1998; Peluso, 1993; Vandergeest and Peluso,
1995). However, the case of Virunga National Park suggests that other
processes of territorialization may be set in motion if practices of armed
conservation are implemented in conflict areas. As I will demonstrate in
this article, the green militarization — defined by Lunstrum (2014: 817)
as the ‘use of military and paramilitary (military-like) actors, techniques,
technologies and partnerships in the pursuit of conservation’— of Virunga
translates into practices of extra-state territorialization. While the transna-
tionalized park management uses the ‘language of stateness’ — defined by
Hansen and Stepputat (2001: 9) as ‘local and historically embedded reg-
isters of authority and governance’— to claim authority and to legitimize
its militarized approach to conservation, other state actors and a large part
of the local population perceive the park as a space ultimately managed
by transnational actors and resources — effectively, as a ‘state within a
state’.
The population living adjacent to Virunga perceive and experience the
new park management as yet another armed actor — along with numerous
rebel factions, businessmen, politicians and various networks of competing
government institutions — aiming to territorialize its control in North Kivu
province. Many of these other actors hold de facto authority over parts
of Virunga’s territory and its enclosed natural resources, and continuously
contest and undermine the efforts of the park management to territorialize
their control over all the land within the park’s borders.
During these contestations, park guards aim to bolster ‘state power’ by
using various registers of ‘stateness’ — including discourses, symbols and
bureaucratic practices (which I will elaborate on later). While these per-
formances might give the impression of establishing ‘state control’, it is
necessary to differentiate between practices of ‘state’ territorialization and
the actual effects of these strategies on structures of public authority and
de facto territorial control, especially in the context of protracted violent
conflict.
It is this nexus — of conservation practices and structures of public au-
thority (outside the a priori notion of ‘the state’) — that is the focus of
this article. The analysis that is conducted brings the literature on neolib-
eral conservation and territorialization into conversation with the literature
on militarized conservation efforts in conflict areas. The article is based on
seven months of field research conducted between 2013 and 2015 in all
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UNCORRECTED PROOF
4Esther Marijnen
Figure 1. Virunga National Park
three sectors of Virunga National Park (see Figure 1).1Visits were made to
13 villages where interviews were conducted with residents, local environ-
mental NGOs, park guards, rebel groups and local administrators. Inter-
views were also conducted in Goma, Rumangabo and Brussels with park
1. I conducted field research in the northern sector with Stephan Hochleitner, from University
of Zurich, in November and December of 2013. During two other field trips, I visited the
central and southern sectors.
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UNCORRECTED PROOF
Virunga National Park: A ‘State within a State’ in DRC 5
management officials, Congolese state employees and EC officials. In total
258 interviews were conducted.2The information gathered through these in-
terviews was triangulated with primary and secondary literature, including
policy evaluations, historical material and news articles.
The article proceeds as follows. First, I discuss the relationship between
transnationalized conservation and territorialization, and how it can be anal-
ysed in conflict areas. Second, I outline how the dynamics of this relationship
have shaped the history of Virunga National Park. This is followed by a de-
scription of how the park authorities currently aim to establish control over
the park, and how they negotiate their authority with other state and non-
state actors who hold de facto authority over parts of Virunga’s territory.
Ithenanalysethelegitimacyofthetransnationalizedparkmanagement
from the perspective of the adjacent population and local authorities. To
conclude, I argue that despite the association green militarization has with
processes of state territorialization and state making, it is more fruitful to
extend our focus to how practices of green militarization co-constitute pub-
lic authority. I also reflect on the consequences of these practices for local
communities in their quest to hold the transnationalized park management to
account.
THE CONSERVATION–TERRITORIALIZATION NEXUS
Tools of Cont r o l : Parks a n d P ow e r
The idea that strong state power is essential for effective nature conser-
vation can be traced back to the colonial period, when parks were man-
aged as fortresses by law-enforcing state authorities (Neumann, 1998).
The enclosure of land designated for the protection of wildlife popula-
tions and nature became a tool for colonial governments to enforce and ex-
tend their control over territory and reluctant populations, and thus formed
part of the political project of colonial state building (Dunn, 2009; Neu-
mann, 1998: 11). In the post-colonial era, protected areas continued to be
seen as ‘tools of control’ (Roth, 2008). Many newly independent states
reinforced their colonial predecessor’s wildlife policies and even created
more protected areas. This served a dual purpose: it paid lip service to the
wishes of international environmental lobby organizations (Neumann, 1998;
Peluso, 1993), and it strengthened their power and control over territory and
populations.
2. Respondents living adjacent to the park were given assurance that their anonymity would
be protected. Therefore, minimum back is provided when individuals are quoted directly.
However, more information is disclosed about particular interviewees due to the key po-
sitions they hold. These latter respondents consented to being interviewed under these
conditions.
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UNCORRECTED PROOF
6Esther Marijnen
In their seminal study in Thailand, Vandergeest and Peluso (1995) ar-
gue that the process of erecting boundaries around forested areas, and the
transformation of these spaces into protected areas, is a form of internal
territorialization. In these areas, ‘state control’ is established over territory
that was originally managed through ‘local’ systems of governance, and is
thus an essential element in the process of state making (ibid.). This pro-
cess does not always proceed smoothly and can lead to conflict (Peluso
and Vandergeest, 2011). The crucial question of who has access to natural
resources can lead to violence and the disenfranchisement of indigenous
peoples (Neumann, 1998; Peluso and Vandergeest, 2011). Moreover, in
some cases international NGOs and donors provide both direct and indirect
support to governments to advance these forms of state territorialization in
the name of nature conservation (Peluso, 1993).
Neumann (1997: 559) observes similar dynamics in the so-called ‘in-
tegrated conservation and development programmes’ that are often imple-
mented in the buffer zones of protected areas. Despite being donor driven and
funded, they can ‘replicate more coercive forms of conservation practice and
constitute an expansion of state authority into remote rural areas’ (ibid.). This
alignment between international NGOs and the state is arguably accentuated
in the process of green militarization (Lunstrum, 2014). Armed conservation
is directly associated with state territorialization, since it utilizes multiple
state symbols and characteristics, such as claims to sovereignty, the use of
force and a range of militarized performances (Dunn, 2009). Indeed, green
militarization appears to bolster intensified projects of state territorializa-
tion, especially in countries such as Botswana and South Africa (Lunstrum,
2014).
While the literature on green militarization generally portrays protected
areas as state territorial projects, literature on the neoliberalization of con-
servation investigates the influence that a growing range of actors involved
in the management of these areas has on state sovereignty and territorial-
ization. These are not contradictory processes. Several scholars argue that
neoliberalization does not necessarily imply that the state is bypassed or
weakened due to the increased influence of non-state actors (B¨
uscher, 2011;
Corson, 2011; Lunstrum, 2013). As Igoe and Brockington (2007: 438) ar-
gue: ‘If states were declining under neoliberalism . . . one would expect
territorialization to also decline. In fact, however, just the opposite has oc-
curred. Territorialization has intensified under neoliberalization, as seen in
the proliferation of protected areas’.
Corson argues that (state) territorialization is not by definition a state-
controlled process, and that in the case of Madagascar, for example, the
state was a vehicle through which ‘numerous non-state entities sought to
expand their control of and authority over Madagascar’s forests’ (2011:
703, emphasis in the original). She concludes that Madagascar’s pro-
tected areas, despite being managed by an alliance of private, public,
state and non-state actors, are still regarded by most local people as state
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Virunga National Park: A ‘State within a State’ in DRC 7
territories, since this joint management occurs ‘under the auspices of the
state’ (ibid.: 707).
Lunstrum (2013: 1), came to a similar conclusion and showed how inter-
national support for Great Limpopo Transfrontier Park led to a ‘profound
expansion of Mozambican state power over and through the park’, which
amounted to ‘extra-territorial state-making though conservation’ (ibid.: 9).
Consequently, Lustrum argues that international donors do not only co-
produce the space they intervene in, but also ‘produce national territory’
(ibid.: 10).
Extant literature reveals a relationship between the transnationalization of
nature conservation and state territorialization, yet there has not yet been a
systematic analysis of these processes in conflict-ridden areas, where there
are often no clear distinctions between state, non-state and extra-state actors.
This ambiguity is present in eastern DRC, where ‘the constant undermining
and reinterpretation of state power within the context of crisis and violent
conflict has apparently given life to a more commodified, indirect form
of statehood that drives the middle ground between formal and informal,
state and non-state spheres of authority and regulation’ (Vlassenroot and
Reaymakers, 2008: 51). It is therefore important to link the debate on state
territorialization and conservation to the literature on conservation efforts in
conflict areas.
Green Militarization in Conflict Areas: Through the Lens of Public Authority
Warfare and violent conflict pose a tremendous threat to nature, wildlife
populations and park infrastructures worldwide, and it is often argued that
there is a universal responsibility to mitigate the associated risks. This is
reflected in the declaration of the 1992 Rio Earth Summit, which states that
governments should take responsibility to protect nature in another state if
it is under threat. One way in which international support is mobilized is
through the enlistment of protected areas as ‘World Heritage Sites in Dan-
ger’, under the World Heritage Convention, adopted by the United Nations
(UN) in 1972. Others go even further and advocate that the UN should start
employing so-called ‘Green Helmets’ peacekeepers to protect the environ-
ment (Eckersley, 2007).
Through these mechanisms transnational actors bolster their support for
protected areas they perceive to be in danger. In various conflict areas,
this increased transnational support is directed towards the militarization
of conservation efforts, which is often presented as unavoidable due to the
challenging context (Marijnen and Verweijen, 2016).
In current debates about green militarization, a lot of emphasis is placed
on analysing militarized responses to rhino and elephant poaching (B¨
uscher
and Ramutsindela, 2016; Duffy, 2014; Lunstrum, 2014). Far less emphasis is
placed on the analysis of armed conservation efforts to safeguard protected
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UNCORRECTED PROOF
8Esther Marijnen
areas — not only ecosystems but also park management infrastructures and
personnel — from the destructive impact of warfare.3This is a crucial
imbalance, because the imaginary of the state embedded in militarized
conservation practices often does not match the structures of public au-
thority at work in conflict areas, especially those where state authority has
been dwindling for a prolonged period.
Ferguson (2006: 47) argues that international conservationists working in
these ‘hot spots’, ‘through a logic of pragmatic adaption to circumstance’,
create enclaves of political order through extra-state mechanisms. However,
more research is needed to analyse whether protected areas in conflict zones
are indeed managed as enclaves, and if so, through which practices they are
created. Furthermore, it is important to analyse the consequences of such an
approach for ongoing violent conflicts over public authority among a range
of different actors, including rebel groups, so-called ‘big men’ and local
authorities. Externally supported conservation programmes designate power,
authority and resources to certain actors over others, affecting dynamics of
conflict and spreading de facto sovereignty among a plurality of actors,
including transnational ones (Hansen and Stepputat, 2006). Hence, when
transnational actors decide to step up their support to protected areas located
in conflict regions, they become entangled in wider existing conflicts over
public authority and territory.
Lund (2006: 686) defined public authority as ‘the amalgamated result of
the exercise of power by a variety of local institutions and the imposition of
external institutions, conjugated with the idea of the state’. To have public
authority, there should be a mutual recognition between those ‘who rule’,
and those ‘who are ruled’ in the public sphere (ibid.: 678). Public authority
is based on unequal power relations, where certain forms of citizenship,
order and duty are normalized, and if necessary, can be secured by force
(Hoffmann et al., 2016: 1436). To establish control and gain authority,
actors often use state symbols and arguments of state sovereignty to exercise
public authority. Hansen and Stepputat refer to this strategic signification as
the ‘language of stateness’ (2001). As Hoffmann et al. (2016: 1436) argue,
‘In spite of the current fragmentation of authority in eastern Congo, the
political order remains deeply anchored in a “language of stateness”’.
Sikor and Lund (2009) argue that it is important to analyse the differ-
ent claims that are made about control over land and access to resources. In
their view, effective territorialization of these claims include: the mapping of
boundaries, establishing and enforcing new rights, and determining access to
resources (ibid.). Yet structures of public authority go beyond territorializa-
tion and are constituted through various practices, including the production
of knowledge about people living in a certain area, setting up bureaucratic
procedures and the accumulation of resources (Hoffmann et al., 2016).
3. Notable exceptions are Lombard (2015, 2016) and Ybarra (2012).
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Virunga National Park: A ‘State within a State’ in DRC 9
Below, I analyse how public authority is negotiated in and around Virunga
National Park by examining the park management’s engagement with a range
of stakeholders, an approach which is informed by the insight that structures
of public authority are the products of continuous interaction and renegotia-
tion with different interest groups in a particular area (Hagmann and P´
eclard,
2010). Before undertaking this analysis, however, it is important to place
the transnationalization of Virunga’s management in historical perspective,
and examine how it has co-constituted structures of public authority in the
region over time.
VIRUNGA’S HISTORY OF TRANSNATIONALIZED CONSERVATION
After a visit to Yellowstone National Park in 1919, King Albert I of Belgium
felt inspired to create his ‘own’ national park in the Belgian Congo. His
personal interest was encouraged by a group of conservationists, including
the American biologist Carl Akeley, whose lobbying marked the beginning
of American and European conservationists taking an active interest in the
region. This interest contributed to the transnational character of the park’s
management from its inception (Jones, 2006). Belgian royals were also
driven by a desire to portray themselves and their involvement in the Belgian
Congo as ‘benevolent imperialists in the eyes of the Western world’ (Jones,
2006: 330). Such was the politics of empire that, for them, public opinion
outside the colony about the newly created park was more important than
domestic public opinion.
When the park was created in 1925, it encompassed 24,000 hectares. In
1935, under Leopold III, the park expanded significantly to include a total
area of 790,000 hectares. The expansion of the park was neither a linear nor
a smooth process, and it faced much resistance in part because it occurred
by means of dubious techniques of enclosure (Fairhead, 1992; Nzabandora,
2006; Van Schuylenberg, 2009). The people who were expelled from their
lands, hunting grounds and farms generally did not accept the creation of the
exclusive protected area, since they felt their rights had been disregarded in
the process (Nzanbandora, 2006; Vikanza, 2011).
Exercises in Control: The Life of a Protected Area
The colonial state was not a monolithic actor in the creation and protection
of the park. In the park’s early days, there was no separate colonial entity
responsible for its management and regular colonial administrators were
tasked with the implementation of its boundaries. Belgium, however, did
not find these administrators to be effective. In 1934 it created L’Institut des
Parcs Nationaux du Congo Belge (IPNCB), The Institute for the National
Parks of Belgian Congo. This was a separate state institution designed to
manage all the protected areas in the colony and to take orders directly from
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10 Esther Marijnen
Brussels (Fairhead, 1992). According to some observers, the IPNCB was
also created to limit the influence of foreigners on the management of the
park.4
Yet the old fault lines persisted in the relationship between the conserva-
tionists working for the IPNCB and the colonial administrators. On 28 May
1935, for example, the governor of the colony, Pierre Ryckmans, wrote to
the Belgian minister of colonies to express his concern about the livelihoods
of the population in the region. He made a case to allow the population to
regain access to the park for fishing and to reconvert 200,000 hectares of
park into customary land for local people in the territory of Beni, in the
northern sector of the park (Nzabandora, 2011: 18). The minister refused.
During World War II, the park was managed by the local colonial admin-
istration while the Belgian Congo was temporarily cut off from Brussels.
During this period, people resettled in the park and accessed its resources
(Van Schuylenberg, 2009). The local administration did not prevent this and
the park existed only on paper until 1947 (Nzabandora, 2011). When the
IPBCN regained control in 1947, they denounced the local population for
being opportunistic and accused the colonial administrators of being too lib-
eral (Van Schuylenberg, 2009). The IPBCN then tightened its control over
the park and started to operate more autonomously. In his memoir, one of
the park’s former directors, Jacques Verschuren (1968) expresses a certain
pride in the reputation the management of the park had gained as one of the
most rigid institutions in the colony.
After a short turbulent period in the wake of the country’s independence
in 1960, the new government transferred responsibility for park manage-
ment to Congolese officials. Many of these officials were trained under the
aforementioned Verschuren.
When Mobutu Sese Seko came into power in 1968, the country was re-
named Zaire. Mobutu took a particular interest in nature conservation, and
in 1969 he created the current ICCN and appointed Verschuren as its first
director. This appointment, which demonstrates the continuous influence
of Belgians in the management of protected areas before and after inde-
pendence, was at odds with Mobutu’s project of Zaireanization. The latter
was a nation-building project aimed at countering western influences in the
country and emphasizing the cultural and natural heritage of Zaire. Nev-
ertheless, Virunga became a symbol of the project. Mobutu often visited
the park and even constructed a personal hotel in Rwindi (see Figure 1.)
As the park is located far from the centre of power in Kinshasa, it offered
Mobutu the possibility of symbolically demonstrating his vision and power
to the neighbouring population, many of whom still vividly remembered
4. Mentioned on the website of the archives of the former national parks of Belgium Congo.
Please see: www.apncb.be/history/institute-national-parks-belgian-congo (accessed 12 May
2014).
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Virunga National Park: A ‘State within a State’ in DRC 11
his presence there.5Other leaders in Central Africa — such as Cameroon’s
Ahamadou Ahidjo — have used protected areas in similar ways to enforce
their territorial authority and control (Kelly, 2015: 735).
Some scholars applauded Mobutu’s initially strict approach to con-
servation, including the ‘quasi-dictatorial power’ given to the new park
management. According to Verschuren and Mbaelele, ‘a severe military
discipline ruled [and] surveillance contained some policing aspects. In 2006
it is politically correct to criticize these rigorous elements, but everything
functioned really well’ (2006: 87). This strict approach was visible in the
practices of the park guards, who were given blanket permission to use
armed force against poachers and stepped up patrolling activity along the
park’s borders (ibid.). In interviews, many former park guards recalled how
they were given orders to shoot at anyone trespassing in the park.
When the ICCN started to crumble from the mid-1970s onwards, reflecting
the general decline of the Mobutu regime, it created a dangerous situation.
Accustomed to using brutal methods but decreasingly controlled and paid,
the park guards started to aggressively commercialize and privatize their au-
thority through poaching, illegal fishing and charcoal production (Vikanza,
2011).
A‘StateofCrisis’
From 1988 onwards, the EC became involved in the protection of Virunga
through its Kivu Programme, a diversified development project that also
paid attention to ‘rural development’ around the park (Fairhead, 1992). Yet
the programme was halted in 1992 when, based on concerns over Mobutu’s
rule and policies, the EC ceased all cooperation with the Congolese govern-
ment. In 1994 a refugee crisis in North Kivu emerged in the aftermath of
the Rwandan genocide, and the EC found ways to continue supporting con-
servation efforts outside of state channels, through a Belgian NGO, Nature
Plus. From this moment onwards, the EC started regarding the park as being
in a ‘state of crisis’, which motivated the EC to increase their involvement
in the park’s management even further (Marijnen, 2017).
After the signing of a peace agreement in 2002, following the Second
Congo War of 2000–02, a new Congolese government was installed under
Joseph Kabila. In 2003–04, the EC made it clear that it wanted to continue
supporting the park, but that it did not want to transfer aid to the ICCN, which
had come to be known as a corrupt and malfunctioning state institution.
Instead, in 2005 the EC persuaded the government to enter into a PPP with
the African Conservation Fund (ACF), an NGO which was established that
5. Interviews with multiple people in different locations around Virunga National Park, 2013–
15.
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12 Esther Marijnen
same year by Emmanuel de Merode, a Belgian prince and the coordinator
of EC development projects in Goma.6
In 2008 the DRC government appointed de Merode as chief warden of
Virunga National Park. From then on he wore two hats: one as an ICCN
state employee, and the other as CEO of ACF. By then negotiations for a
broader PPP were already under way, and in 2010 the Congolese government
delegated full authority to manage the park to the ACF, which in 2014
changed its name to the Virunga Foundation (Hatchwell, 2014). The current
PPP is legally binding until 2040.
This historical overview underlines the long history of the transnational
character of Virunga’s management. ‘Crisis’ situations may indeed attract
international attention and reinforce transnational support for protected areas
located in war-torn regions, yet to a certain extent Virunga’s management has
always been determined by transnational actors (De Bont, 2017). Moreover,
the historical continuity of the involvement of ‘white men’, ‘Europe’ and
strong personalities such as Mobutu also explains the manner in which
the adjacent population regards the current management of Virunga. I will
return to this idea towards the end of the article. First, I will outline how
the transnationalized park management militarized its conservation efforts
to enforce its authority and control over Virunga’s territory, resources and
population.
THE MILITARIZATION OF VIRUNGA: REINSTATING PUBLIC AUTHORITY
When the extended PPP (signed in 2010) came into force, the park manage-
ment started to implement a reform process, which included the creation of
a‘newsecurityservice’.
7De Merode reduced the number of park guards
from 1,000 to around 280 and launched new rounds of recruitment that were
followed by a military-inspired, nine-month training programme conducted
by Belgian ex-military personnel. The EC not only paid for the reform
programme, but also started to pay a monthly fee to the park guards. A low-
ranking park guard receives US$ 165 from the Virunga Foundation, paid
from EC funds (Marijnen, 2017), and — nominally — US$ 60 per month
from the government in Kinshasa. However, several of the newly recruited
guards interviewed had not yet received any salary from Kinshasa, despite
the fact that some had already been working in the park for more than a
year. This failure of the government to contribute to their salaries reinforced
the feeling among the guards that they were working not for the Congolese
government but for the Virunga Foundation.8Referring to the extensive aid
6. De Merode is a descendant of Prince Eugene de Ligne, who was involved in the park’s
management during the colonial period (Van Schuylenberg, 2009).
7. Interview, director of Virunga National Park, Rumangabo, June 2014.
8. Interviews with park guards, multiple locations around Virunga National Park, 2014–15.
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Virunga National Park: A ‘State within a State’ in DRC 13
the EC allocates to the park, one EU official told me, ‘Sometimes I think,
personally, that we influence the balance of power in and around Virunga
too much. We are creating a kind of a “state within a state”’.9
Nevertheless, the ICCN guards are still officially state agents who wear
uniforms, carry weapons and organize the expulsion of people who live
within the boundaries of the park, often in collaboration with the Na-
tional Congolese army, Les Forces arm´
ees de la R´
epublique d´
emocratique
du Congo (FARDC). Military drills are executed daily by the guards of
the park in front of the headquarters office in Rumangabo, with the men
saluting the DRC’s flag. Hence, the park guards perform state power, while
the entire management structure is comprised of employees of the Virunga
Foundation. The ICCN guards are thus effectively seconded to the Virunga
Foundation, which bears the final responsibility for the management of the
park. As Igoe and Brockington (2007: 440) argue, this ‘commodification
of state sovereignty’ around protected area management is important for
‘the legitimacy of externally-driven interventions that revolve around the
appropriation of land and other natural resources’.
According to the park management, the wages they pay guarantee that
guards have no reason to be tempted into corruption, unlike other Congolese
state agents, who receive insufficient and irregular salaries. However, this
‘technical fix’ has not eradicated corruption, a deeply rooted practice caused
by more factors than underpayment alone (see Baaz and Verweijen, 2014).
The involvement of ICCN guards in illegal fishing and collaborations with
rebel groups diminished after the PPP was established, but still continues
(Kujirakwinja et al., 2010). Moreover, the zero-tolerance policy of the park
when it comes to corruption has put rangers in difficult situations, especially
the lower-ranking guards patrolling Lake Edward, where a range of actors,
armed and non-armed, state and non-state, are involved in illegal fishing (see
Figure 1). These actors frequently approach the guards to offer bribes. If the
guards refuse, they are often threatened; if they accept the bribes, they fear
losing their jobs.10
While park management officials set themselves apart as incorruptible
state agents to gain authority, they realize that this approach will not be
effective as long as other state services — such as the army, justice and
education sectors — ‘stayed behind’.11
In addition to a new security service, de Merode pushed in 2010 for an
agreement between the defence and environment ministries in Kinshasa to
restructure security governance in the park. The park authorities recognized
that FARDC soldiers were causing some of the greatest harm to the park
through their involvement in poaching, charcoal trading and illegal fishing.
At the same time, they knew they needed the army in the park to fight the
9. Interview, policy officer at the European Institutions, Brussels, March 2016.
10. Interviews with park guards, multiple locations around Virunga National Park, 2014–15.
11. Interview, Director Virunga National Park, Rumangabo, June 2013.
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UNCORRECTED PROOF
14 Esther Marijnen
rebel groups based there. Faced with this dilemma, the Virunga Foundation
convinced the government to place a part of the army under the command
of Virunga’s chief warden. To make this deal palatable to the FARDC,
it promised a large sum of money and petrol to the FARDC commander
then in charge of the operational sector covering Virunga (Verweijen and
Marijnen, 2016). The foundation would also provide material, uniforms,
transport, additional daily allowances and three meals per day for both the
guards and the soldiers in the mixed battalions.12 Thus it was that in 2010
mixed battalions of FARDC soldiers and ICCN guards were formed under
the command of the ICCN — all on the condition that certain other FARDC
units would leave the park.
To restore the integrity of the park and to implement ‘the rule of law’
within its borders, the management launched various operations to evict
people residing and cultivating land within park territory. In addition, the
management aims to halt the illegal production of charcoal in the park and
the illegal fishing activities around Lake Edward (see Figure 1). Yet the
park’s paramilitary guards are only one of a host of armed groups aiming
to territorialize their authority, and to control territory and resources in the
wider Virunga area. At the time the fieldwork was conducted there were
around ten different rebel groups based in or close to the borders of the
park (Stearns and Vogel, 2015). The park management’s relative success in
territorializing its authority can be scrutinized through an analysis of whether
they are able to control who has access to the land and resources of Virunga.
It is this analysis that I will turn to next.
Negotiating Public Authority: Access to Resources
While the Virunga Foundation tried to co-opt the soldiers of the FARDC
operating in the territory of the park and its borderlands, the arrival of
the British oil company SOCO complicated arrangements. SOCO obtained
a permit to explore for oil in an area 50 per cent of which overlapped
with the park. A first contract between the company and the Congolese
government was ratified by presidential decree in June 2010. In May 2011,
a top official of the ICCN in Kinshasa signed a contract with SOCO that
allowed the company to enter the park. Park management tried to block
SOCO from accessing the park on multiple occasions, pointing to both the
1969 Congolese law prohibiting resource exploitation in national parks and
international law prohibiting oil exploitation in World Heritage Sites, a status
the park gained in 1979 (Pearce, 2014). Park management, therefore, tried to
12. This is controversial since the Congolese army does not have a good human rights track
record and is perceived as being part of the problem in the ongoing conflict in the east of
the DRC.
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Virunga National Park: A ‘State within a State’ in DRC 15
assert its authority on this issue using the register of ‘stateness’ — stressing
that they enforce national and international law.
Government officials with an interest in supporting SOCO took the per-
spective that they could change the boundaries of the protected area to make
exploitation possible — and legal — in the future. The governor of North
Kivu stated that ‘the government will investigate how much money we
could earn from oil and we will balance that with how much we could earn
with conservation. Based on these calculations the government will make
a choice, but therefore SOCO first needs to make an exploration’.13 The
resulting tensions between the park management and government officials
that supported SOCO manifested itself at various occasions. In June 2012,
members of the naval force, while escorting a team from SOCO, stabbed a
guard of the park in his ankle. In September 2013 FARDC soldiers arrested
the main conservator from the central sector, as he obstructed SOCO in
their construction of a radio antenna in the park (Global Witness, 2014).
Consequently, de Merode was perceived as being the only public author-
ity standing between SOCO and its mission, and many people believe this
motivated the attempt on his life in April 2014.14
Despite the protestations of the park authorities, in that same month SOCO
began six weeks of seismic testing in Nyakakoma, which is located within
the park but functions as a private fishing concession of Ndeze, the chief of
Bwisha, who granted SOCO access (see Figure 1). During this period, the
FARDC major in the Feruzi area acted as a military liaison officer for SOCO.
The park authorities thus tried to enforce their authority and control by, on
the one hand, collaborating with the army in joint patrols, and, on the other
hand, challenging soldiers of the Congolese army. Indeed, as Lund (2006:
289) has argued, ‘public authority seems to manifest itself in an ambiguous
process of being and opposing the state’.
Oil is not the only contested resource in Virunga. According to one park
ranger, ‘We often fight with the government. SOCO is one example, but
charcoal is another issue’.15 The production and trade of charcoal made
from trees in Virunga generates millions of dollars a year, and thousands of
people involved in the trade depend on it for their livelihood. The Forces
D´
emocratiques pour la Lib´
eration du Rwanda (FDLR) — the Democratic
Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda — a rebel group of Rwandan origin
— also generates revenue from the trade by asking civilians for a protection
tax when they are operating in the park. Congolese soldiers do the same
along the roads, and when the charcoal is sold on the market in Goma, the
provincial capital, the Congolese tax authority raises official taxes as they
do not differentiate between charcoal that originate from the park and other
13. Interview, governor of North Kivu, Beni, December 2013.
14. De Merode was shot on the road between Goma and Rumangabo after meeting with the
state prosecutor.
15. Interview, ICCN employee, Rumangabo, July 2014.
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16 Esther Marijnen
places. Hence, although the charcoal is illegal it is not perceived and acted
upon as such by a whole range of actors. When the park management tried
to crack down on the charcoal trade, they were acting against the interests
of so many state and non-state actors that they soon realized that it was not
feasible to maintain effective control over the resource. Fishing, pastoralism
and agricultural activities are also taking place within the borders of the park,
which the park authorities attempt to halt — with varying degrees of success.
The capacity of the park management to enforce the borders of Virunga is
insufficient; in some areas the guards are not present and therefore do not
control who enters. For example, a large part of the park located in Masisi
territory has been transformed into pastoral lands and villages have been
constructed (see Figure 1).
When the former rebel group Congr`
es National pour la D´
efense du Peuple
(CNDP) — National Conference for the Defence of the people — governed
the area (December 2006–January 2009), they placed and protected around
10,000 people and 1,000–1,500 of their cattle here. The landscape was trans-
formed and it became de facto customary land. Many people believe these
people are allowed to stay in the park because of de Merode’s negotiations
with Laurent Nkunda, the leader of the CNDP, in 2008–09. Perspectives on
these negotiations differ. The international press portrayed it as a brave act
of de Merode to negotiate with Nkunda, as he aimed to negotiate access for
the park rangers. Locally, however, these negotiations were seen as illegiti-
mate, because they favoured the pastoralists operating in the park and their
vaces sans frontiers (cows without borders), and allowed many Rwandan
‘big men’ to keep their cattle there.16
There are a number of areas where people are allowed to stay within the
borders of the park. For example, in Lubiriha in the park’s north sector (see
Figure 1), multiple government offices built on park territory are currently
in use by different state institutions. As indicated above, the fishing village
Nyakakoma is the de facto territory of the chief Ndeze. Yet in other parts,
the park asserted its authority and is reported to take fierce action against
illegal fishing, agriculture and charcoal production, expelling people from
park territory and destroying farms, for instance in Chondo and Kibirzi (see
Figure 1). These expulsions have had a counterproductive effect, reinforcing
connections between armed groups and the population, especially since the
former started offering protection to expelled people in exchange for ‘fees’,
allowing them to return and resume their illegal activities. This has led
to resettlement in the park and increasing militarization (Verweijen and
Marijnen, 2016). The uneven way in which the park management exercises
its authority contributes to a sense of injustice among the population and
compromises its local legitimacy.
16. Multiple interviews in different locations around Virunga National Park, 2014–15.
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Virunga National Park: A ‘State within a State’ in DRC 17
VIRUNGA AS A CONTESTED PUBLIC AUTHORITY
Besides the question of territorial control, it is important to examine how
park management interacts with a range of stakeholders, since public au-
thority is the product of continuous interaction and renegotiation between
different interest groups within a particular area (Hagmann and P´
eclard,
2011). From the moment the park management started to reinforce its law
enforcement capacities through the PPP, it faced opposition from the ad-
jacent population. One of the main movements challenging the park is the
Syndicat Alliance Paysanne (SAP), which represents mainly agriculturalists
living along the park’s borders as well as people who have claims to land
located within the park. The movement demands a clear demarcation of park
limits and a community-based approach to its conservation. To this end, it
started a petition in 2011 listing all the land it considered either to be of
unclear ownership or wrongly demarcated as land belonging to the park.
More than 100,000 people signed the petition, which SAP then handed to
multiple ministries and government institutions, including the ICCN and the
management of Virunga. They never received an official response. Accord-
ing to SAP, from a legal perspective this implies that the government agrees
with the demands outlined in the petition. Subsequently, people started to
occupy — or reoccupy — areas in the park they believed they were entitled
to.17
SAP also became a fierce opponent of SOCO and all future oil exploita-
tion, since the movement’s leadership does not believe the government will
manage the exploitation in a responsible manner. The park thus found an
ally in SAP in the mobilization of people against SOCO in 2013–14. How-
ever, after SOCO finished its exploration, the park ceased collaborations
with SAP. This contributed to frustrations with the park among its mem-
bers. According to a park employee, ‘We only work together with local
NGOs and movements when we need them. We prefer to do things by
ourselves’.18
The relationship is constantly changing, especially within a volatile po-
litical environment. At the time of writing, it is unclear whether and
when national and local government elections will be organized, however,
there are recurring moments of increased mobilization among members
of SAP to remind politicians and the park of their 2011 petition. The
movement also relies on the support of several traditional local leaders,
who argue that the park does not recognize their authority or consult them
appropriately.
Yet the park authorities say they will ‘continue to fight’ the pressures
and demands of the local chiefs around the park.19 According to a former
17. Interviews, representatives of SAP, Kiwanja, 2014–15.
18. Interview, Employee Virunga Foundation, Goma, June 2014.
19. Interview, Director Virunga National Park, Goma, June 2015.
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18 Esther Marijnen
employee of an international environmental NGO with a lot of experience
in the region, ‘You cannot talk with him [de Merode] about all the unsettled
land claims and the conflicts with the mwamis (local chiefs). They need to
be resolved, but he only looks at the law’.20 From the perspective of the
park officials, their authority should trump that of the traditional authorities
because the demarcation of the park’s borders is set in law and they are
appointed to follow the rule of law. The park thus justifies the exertion of its
authority by invoking its mandate from government. In practice, however,
they share de facto authority with traditional leaders, who continue to play
a role in the customary distribution of land.
According to the same Congolese laws, every protected area should, at
least once a year, organize a Comit´
e de Coordination du Site — a so-called
CoCoSi meeting — to coordinate with all relevant stakeholders, including
civil society, local authorities and national and international NGOs. Different
actors complain that the management of Virunga has never organized these
meetings.21 This apparently dismissive approach towards local communities
and their organizations is also visible in the Virunga Alliance, Virunga’s
development plan for the region.
The Virunga Alliance, which was officially released in 2013, is not an
example of community-based conservation planning. According to one local
environmental NGO, ‘We were only asked to endorse it when the project was
presented to us. We were not consulted in the process’.22 Another said, ‘It fell
out of the sky for us’. Local people argue that the Virunga Alliance reflects
the park’s top-down approach to conservation ‘They see the population as
beneficiaries but not as actors. This is not real community conservation’,
said one. Another said, ‘They still adopt a police approach, as there is no
real collaboration with the community. We only see cars passing by very
fast. We hope for electricity in the future, but for now, the ICCN only creates
problems’.23
Through the planned construction of seven hydroelectricity plants around
the park, the Virunga Alliance aims to contribute to rural electrification
and to attract private investors in the agro-industry to generate 100,000
jobs. Yet this promise is regarded with suspicion, as earlier promises by
the park management to construct schools, hospitals and roads have not yet
been fulfilled in the eyes of the population.24 Park authorities are confident,
however, that the Virunga Alliance will create a reciprocal relationship
between the communities and the park, where the former will take an interest
in the survival of the latter. Hence, the park management tries to establish
authority by presenting its ‘knowledge’ and top-down policies as ‘in the
20. Interview, Former employee INGO, Brussels, February 2015.
21. Multiple interviews, different location around Virunga National Park, 2014–15.
22. Interview, director of local NGO, Kiwanja, May 2014.
23. Interview, local chief of a localite in Rutshuru, June 2015.
24. Multiple interviews, different locations around Virunga National Park, 2014–15.
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Virunga National Park: A ‘State within a State’ in DRC 19
interest of the population’. Such claims to authority are not easily accepted
in a landscape where public authority is fragmented and subject to violent
contestations.
Revenue and Authority: A Contested Model
Implementing projects such as those proposed in the Virunga Alliance re-
quires resources, and, as Lund (2009) has argued, so does the exercise of
public authority. Since the Virunga Foundation is currently dependent on aid
provided by the EC, it intends to create independent and sustainable sources
of income. First, through the commodification of the generated electricity
and second, by expanding the number of activities and facilities for tourists
in Virunga.
However, to be able to ensure a continuous stream of tourists to the park,
several logistical, infrastructural and security matters need to be in place.
Since obtaining a travel visa for the DRC is a cumbersome process, the
Virunga Foundation has created the option for people who buy a permit for
the park also to buy a visa for the DRC through their website. The price
is considerably higher than a regular visa, but the park authorities act as
intermediaries to ensure a relatively smooth border crossing from Rwanda
into DRC. Moreover, to ensure security, heavily armed park guards accom-
pany tourists during their entire stay in and around the park. As a result, the
safety and security tourists experience at times stands in stark contrast with
the constant insecurity experienced by the population in the area (Human
Rights Watch, 2015). This dual function fulfilled by the Virunga Foundation
represents two examples of the PPP’s failure to strengthen existing state
institutions, allowing instead a private institution to take over various state
functions so as to generate the resources required to exercise public author-
ity. While it is understandable that the Virunga Foundation seeks to generate
revenues, the way these initiatives have been structured and implemented
has raised concerns locally.
As the Virunga Foundation is registered as an NGO, the pursuit of profit
is prohibited. In 2013 its directors created a Congolese-registered company,
Virunga SARL, to be able to accumulate revenue, for example, from the
commercialization of hydropower and tourism. Virunga SARL is a wholly-
owned subsidiary of another company, Virunga SPRL, which is registered
in Belgium under the names of de Merode and the Belgian minister of
state, Franc¸ois-Xavier de Donnea, who is also a chairman of the Virunga
Foundation.
Then there is also Virunga Investments SPRL, a wholly-owned subsidiary
of the Virunga SPRL. Virunga Investments SPRL, which is also registered in
Belgium, was set up specifically to invest in the enterprises around Virunga
that would use the power generated by the planned hydroelectric plants.
This model was apparently designed to ensure that all future profits would
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20 Esther Marijnen
go through Virunga SARL to the Virunga Foundation, to then be reinvested
in the park.25
The model has, however, raised concerns among Congolese civil society
groups. This reason is that while the Virunga Alliance presents itself as ‘an
intersection between national government institutions and the private sector’
(African Energy Intelligence,2015:n.p.),norepresentativesofCongolese
entities (the government, civil society, NGOs or local companies) figure
among Virunga SARL’s shareholders. This is a reminder of the need to
distinguish between discourses deployed to gain authority and legitimacy,
and actual practice. Thus the manner in which the park management goes
about establishing control over the park, implementing development projects
and generating revenue, contributes to its lack of legitimacy among local
NGOs, authorities and local communities.
Virunga : A Projec t of Personal Govern ance?
This limited legitimacy is eroded further by the widespread perception that de
Merode runs the park alone. When people talk about the park management,
they refer mainly to ‘de Merode’. All praise, complaints and demands are
directed at him personally. This is true not only of people living adjacent
to the park, but also of NGO employees in Goma and EC bureaucrats in
Brussels. In the words of one EC policy officer: ‘I have so much respect
for what Emmanuel does that I cannot be critical of him; he does the best
possible in this difficult context. It is not sustainable that Virunga relies on
him, but that is the reality’.26
This perception influences the structures of public authority related to
Virunga. As Dunn (2009: 438) has argued, in the DRC, ‘administrative power
often becomes personal power’. As one park ranger said, ‘Our government
does not care about the environment. . . . I could say that [de Merode] cares
more about, and does more for Congo than any Congolese does. It is not our
government that develops Virunga, but de Merode’.27
It should be stressed that de Merode himself feels uncomfortable with this
trend and realizes that it is problematic: ‘Every time I go somewhere, I stress
that I am a Congolese civil servant appointed by the Congolese government
and serve Congolese law, so it is not our fault [that people refer to the park
as being “de Merode’s park”]’.28 I do not wish in this article to make an
evaluation of Emmanuel de Merode as a person, but rather to outline the
dominant perceptions about the current management of the park. In the view
25. Interviews with employees of the Virunga Foundation and ICCN, Brussels and Goma,
2014–16.
26. Interview, Policy officer European Institutions, Brussel, January 2014.
27. Interview, ICCN employee, Rumangabo, July 2014.
28. Interview, Director Virunga National Park, Goma, June 2015.
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Virunga National Park: A ‘State within a State’ in DRC 21
of most local people, the park was first the private property of Albert I, later
of Mobutu, and now of de Merode.
Dunn (2009) argues that national parks in Central Africa are ‘contested
state spaces’, since state power is performed in and around the borders
of the park by patrolling park rangers who wear uniforms and execute
military drills. However, this typology does not apply to Virunga, as the
park was never seen purely as a ‘state-controlled’ space, but instead as a
space controlled by powerful individuals, or (in)directly by ‘white men’.
These findings are similar to those of Louisa Lombard in her research on
an EC-supported anti-poaching project in the Central African Republic.
Lombard (2012) concludes that despite the rhetoric of the importance of
the state, the project had in fact become one of personal governance, and
rather than reinforcing state capacities, it served to bolster ‘the sovereign
capabilities of non-state actors’ (ibid.: iv). Nothing better captures this idea
and speaks to the privatization of public authority in the Virunga area than
the following statement: ‘Emmanuel de Merode has become the president
of . . . the National Republic of Virunga’ (Mvano, a journalist in North
Kivu, quoted in Ross, 2015).
CONCLUDING REMARKS: SCRUTINIZING ‘CRISIS CONSERVATION’
This article described how transnational actors increasingly gained influ-
ence over the management of Virunga National Park and contributed to
the militarization of its conservation. Moreover, it focused on the effects
of this mode of ‘crisis conservation’ on the dynamics of violent conflict in
the wider Virunga area, and how the actions of park authorities limit their
own legitimacy in the eyes of the local population. The park authorities
assumed that through a militarized approach it could project ‘state power’,
implement the ‘rule of law’ and gain legitimacy for the transnationally-
steered intervention. However, green militarization has different effects in
a context of protracted violent conflict where state authority is contested,
and where a range of other (armed) state and non-state actors hold de facto
authority. When the park management attempts to territorialize its author-
ity it has to compete with numerous factions, leading to several violent
contestations.
This article thus contributes to the study of the effects of green militariza-
tion, advanced by transnational actors, in areas characterized by protracted
violent conflict. The case of Virunga suggests that bolstering the supra-
national character of protected area management bodies in war-torn regions
can result in processes of extra-state territorialization. Existing research in
more stable contexts shows that transnational support for green militariza-
tion often contributes to the extension of ‘state’ power over population
and territory. The article therefore holds that it is important to depart from
an a priori notion of the state in the nexus of conservation practices and
