Shari'a, Inshallah shows how people have used shari'a to struggle for peace, justice, and human rights in Somalia and Somaliland.

On 14 December 1995, the signing of the Dayton Peace Accords ended the separatist war in former Yugoslavia and created the State of Bosnia-Herzegovina. Twenty years on, MSF reveals how the organization spoke out about a conflict marked by ethnic cleansing, crimes against humanity, targeted assaults of humanitarian organizations and individuals, and the unfulfilled promises by the International Community. MSF claimed that mass distributions of aid were simply a ‘humanitarian alibi’ of the international community that lacked the will to take political and military measures to end the conflict. Some MSF leaders even called for an armed intervention against the Bosnian-Serb artillery bombing Sarajevo. In December 1992, MSF published a report describing the Bosnian Serb policy of ethnic cleansing. They denounced the Bosnian Serbs for hindering supplies to Srebrenica and Gorazde Muslim besieged enclaves. They raised awareness and denounced the lack of protection of the population when the enclaves came under attack in 1994 and 1995 despite being declared safe zones by the UN. In August 1995, MSF denounced a lack of access to the Serb refugees and from 2000, MSF advocated for parliamentary commissions to be set up to investigate the military and political responsibilities of the States involved in the Srebrenica crisis. This Speaking Out Case Study explores the variety of questions and dilemmas MSF faced, Among them: to what extent should MSF risk the lives of its staff in order to operate in conflict zones? Should MSF condemn obstacles set up to limit the access to the population if it meant no longer having any access at all? Should MSF denounce the fact that humanitarian aid was presented by the international political leaders as the only solution to the conflict and call for military force, an action that would lead to loss of human life?

The case study ‘MSF and Srebrenica 1993-2003’ explores the constraints and dilemmas raised when MSF spoke out about the events that occurred in Srebrenica’s Muslim enclave. The enclave was besieged in 1993 and then seized by Bosnian Serb forces in July 1995. 8,000 men over the age of 16 were massacred, despite the presence of United Nations peacekeeping forces supposedly providing protection in what had been declared a ‘security zone’. With teams present in the enclave throughout, Médecins Sans Frontières testified to what happened and called on the various countries involved to hold inquiries and establish where military and political responsibility lay for the fall of the enclave and abandon of the people of Srebrenica. By agreeing to provide a minimally acceptable level of relief to a besieged population, wasn’t MSF contributing to the strategy of the besieging troops while concurrently softening their image? Could MSF call for the evacuation of civilians who wished to leave thereby risking abetting the ethnic cleansing policy of the besieging army? Having trusted the UN Protection Force’s commitment to protect the enclave and its population, must MSF accept partial culpability for or complicity in the UN’s abandonment of the enclave and the ensuing massacre of the population? Didn’t MSF give the population the false impression that it would be safe as long as the team was present? Is it the role of a humanitarian medical organisation to issue an appeal for an investigative parliamentary commission then, once it is established, to actively monitor it with a critical eye? Contrarily, how can MSF not try to understand the circumstances and responsibilities, which, at the global level, led to the abandonment and massacre of a population to which its teams had provided relief? Can MSF be content with calling for a parliamentary investigation without ensuring that it asks the types of questions likely to elicit answers that shed light on the events? Should Srebrenica be viewed as an accident of history or as a clear-cut example of the impossibility of protecting populations under international mandates established by the UN?

Driven by the increasing importance of discussions around 'impact' and its meaning and implications for history, The Impact of History? brings together established and new voices to raise relevant questions, issues and controversies for debate. The chapters are articulated around the themes of public history, the politics of history, the role of history in the shaping of learning and the situation of history in the changing world of education. While this subject is driven differently by the research bodies and councils of different countries, similar debates about the value and place of the academy in society are taking place in the UK, the USA and Europe as well as in other parts of the world. Chapters cover diverse areas of history from this perspective including: public history national histories new technologies and the natural sciences campaigning histories the impact agenda. This collection is a political and intellectual intervention at a time when scholars and readers of history are being asked to explain why history matters and it seeks to intervene in the debates on ‘impact’, on education and on the role of the past in the shaping of our future. Bringing together leading authors from a wide range of fields, The Impact of History? is an accessible and engaging yet polemical and thought-provoking overview of the role of history in contemporary society.

To the charity workers, Dadaab refugee camp is a humanitarian crisis; to the Kenyan government, it is a 'nursery for terrorists'; to the western media, it is a dangerous no-go area; but to its half a million residents, it is their last resort. Situated hundreds of miles from any other settlement, deep within the inhospitable desert of northern Kenya where only thorn bushes grow, Dadaab is a city like no other. Its buildings are made from mud, sticks or plastic, its entire economy is grey, and its citizens survive on rations and luck. Over the course of four years, Ben Rawlence became a first-hand witness to a strange and desperate limbo-land, getting to know many of those who have come there seeking sanctuary. Among them are Guled, a former child soldier who lives for football; Nisho, who scrapes an existence by pushing a wheelbarrow and dreaming of riches; Tawane, the indomitable youth leader; and schoolgirl Kheyro, whose future hangs upon her education. In City of Thorns, Rawlence interweaves the stories of nine individuals to show what life is like in the camp and to sketch the wider political forces that keep the refugees trapped there. Lucid, vivid and illuminating, here is an urgent human story with deep international repercussions, brought to life through the people who call Dadaab home.

When Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) was founded in 1971, it was founded with both international and associative dimensions. International because it wouldn’t have made sense for MSF France, on its own, to aid threatened populations around the world and associative because civil law in France, especially the 1901 law governing charitable bodies, was perfectly suited to the MSF organisation’s guiding precepts, which are democratic and selfless in nature. Yet, MSF’s development from a small, purely French organisation to an international associative movement was never carefully planned or particularly smooth. MSF’s development was the result of various compromises between the movement’s leaders, with their individual agendas, and the integration of fait accomplis when necessary. The evolving modifications were debated at length to ensure that concerns raised were legitimate and that there was agreement for decisions made. The nature and the validity of MSF’s leadership were regularly challenged, as was the question of how MSF should grow while remaining true to its humanitarian precepts. This case study elaborates the history of the MSF movement from inception in 1971 through 2011, when MSF legitimised an international governance system and architecture. The study is divided in two episodes. Episode One reviews MSF’s first three decades (1971-2000). Episode Two is about the challenges of the early 21st, century, from 2001 to 2011.

The ‘Violence against Kosovar Albanians NATO’s intervention 1998-1999’ case study describes the constraints and dilemmas facing Médecins Sans Frontières teams that witnessed a process of terror and expulsion which they described as the ‘deportation’ of Kosovar Albanians by Serb forces. It also described MSF’s reaction to NATO aerial bombings and the control exercised over the refugee camps by this party to the conflict. Should MSF denounce the violence being committed against Kosovars at the risk of being excluded from access to these people and of encouraging the NATO intervention? Should MSF take a stance on the NATO intervention? What sort of relationship should be established with countries that were committed either militarily (such as NATO members) or politically (Greece) in the conflict and their civil societies? Should MSF raise the alarm about the absence of the UNHCR in the management of the refugee camps, at the risk of reinforcing this marginalization? Is it justifiable to carry out an assessment mission that sacrifices the principle of operational independence, by invoking an interpretation of the principle of impartiality that implies a responsibility to assist victims on both sides of a conflict?

The ‘War crimes and politics of terror in Chechnya 1994-2004’ case study describes the constraints, questions and dilemmas experienced by MSF while speaking out during the two Russian-Chechen wars and the following years of ‘normalization’. Was speaking out the right thing to do with regard to Russia, a power with a veto at the UN Security Council and a tradition of propaganda control of the public arena? Was it realistic to rely on raising the awareness of other UN member states via their public’s opinion? In a context of terror, when dealing with a regime in denial of the reality of a conflict, was it useful and was it up to MSF to call for having this situation qualified as ‘war’? Should MSF take into account the possibility of a casual link between instances of its public speaking out and the security incidents involving its staff? When one of its staff members was taken hostage, should MSF speak out in the media to create visibility that affords him/her some protection, or conversely remain as discrete as possible so as to avoid a rise in his/her ‘market value?’ Should MSF publically point out responsibilities, negligence, or even complicity of the government on which soil the kidnapping had occurred, thereby taking active steps to secure the hostage’s release or should it refrain from such a discourse so as to avoid the opposite effect? Should MSF continue to publically denounce the violence inflicted on people in the region, at the risk of radicalising those parties to the conflict responsible for the kidnapping, and place the hostage’s life in danger?