Making Peace Possible

NO. 159 | March 2020

PEACEWORKS

Understanding Resistance to 

Inclusive Peace Processes

By Esra Cuhadar
NO. 159 | March 2020

Making Peace Possible

The views expressed in this report are those of the author alone. They do not necessarily reflect the views of

the United States Institute of Peace. An online edition of this and related reports can be found on our website 

(www.usip.org), together with additional information on the subject.

© 2020 by the United States Institute of Peace

United States Institute of Peace

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Peaceworks No. 159. First published 2020.

ISBN: 978-1-60127-798-5

Cover photo: Representatives of the Taliban met with a delegation of female lawmakers 

and peace negotiators in June 2015, including Hasina Safi (center), executive director of 

the Afghan Women’s Network. (Photo by Massoud Hossaini/AP)

PEACE 

PROCESSES

ABOUT THE REPORT

This report examines the notion of inclusivity in peace processes—the extent to which 

negotiation and decision making include excluded voices, and of representativeness 

of citizens in state institutions and distribution of rights and entitlements across 

society—and resistance to it. Commissioned by the United States Institute of Peace, 

the report builds on Inclusive Peace and Transition Initiative case studies collected 

between 2013 and 2015 and additional research by the author.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Esra Cuhadar is an associate professor of political science at Bilkent University in 

Turkey, and a senior fellow at the Inclusive Peace and Transition Initiative in Geneva. 

She was a Jennings Randolph Senior Fellow at USIP in 2018, and a Fulbright Visiting 

Scholar at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy at Tufts University in 2011–12.
USIP.ORG 1

Contents

3 Unpacking Inclusion

12 Types of Resistance 

14 Locus of Resistance

18 Behavioral Modes of Resistance

26 Tackling Resistance
2 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

Summary

As inclusion has become a buzzword in policy and practice circles, awareness has 

increased that exclusion is not only a characteristic of bad governance but also 

often a catalyst to violent conflict. Peace processes today are thus designed to 

make them more inclusive—of women, civil society, youth, opposition political parties, business actors, and other actors such as indigenous communities, internally 

displaced people, diasporas, and refugees. Implementation, however, has not progressed smoothly. It is in fact frequently resisted. Meanwhile, understanding why 

inclusion is correlated positively with the durability of subsequent peace is elusive, 

despite growing empirical support for the normative and strategic arguments to 

justify inclusivity. These perspectives also fall short in regard to resistance. 

At the heart of both inclusion and exclusion is the basic cognitive process of how 

we organize ourselves socially into in-groups and out-groups, which speaks directly to the need of people to belong to one societal group or another—that is, 

to inclusivity as a fundamental human need. This perspective is crucial to understanding both the various modes of resistance to inclusion and why resistance—

whether by powerholders, rebel groups, or civil society—is so widespread. 

Most resistance originates with the political elite, followed by societal and rebel 

groups. It can be implicit-elusive, direct-explicit, or coercive, or a mix of these. 

Tackling resistance to inclusion requires a nuanced approach that addresses the 

specific actors engaging in resistance, their motivations, and the tactics they use. 

For example, resistance motivated by political competition and economic self-interest will require different tools than resistance involving an identity component 

in which the dominant group perceives inclusion as an existential threat.

For political motivation, incentive structures that make inclusive processes more 

amenable to powerholders may be enough (as long as progress is safeguarded 

by appropriate benchmarks and milestones). Overcoming resistance motivated 

by identity (whether it is gender or ethnicity) requires a more difficult and sustained effort. It demands not only institutional incentives, careful design of decision-making processes, and effective compliance measures, but also a long-term 

strategy that targets ideological and cultural change.
USIP.ORG 3

In recent years, a sweeping consensus has come to favor inclusive peace processes 

within the international peacebuilding community. Bodies such as the United Nations 

and the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe promote inclusivity and 

encourage both conflict parties and mediators to act on the principle in negotiations and 

mediations. Although inclusion has become a buzzword in policy and practice circles, a 

single definition remains elusive, despite the United Nations describing it as “the extent 

and manner in which the views and needs of conflict parties and other stakeholders are 

represented and integrated into the process and outcome of a mediation effort.”1

 Some 

scholars focus on examining the process; others focus on the outcome.2 Process inclusivity refers to the extent to which negotiation and decision-making processes include 

excluded, relevant, and marginalized voices; outcome inclusivity refers to the distributive 

outcomes and is assessed by the degree of representativeness of state institutions vis-àvis citizens and the distribution of rights and entitlements across societal groups.3

At the same time, awareness in policy circles is increasing that exclusion—a characteristic of bad governance—is often a catalyst of violent intrastate conflicts.4 Although social, political, and economic exclusion are often intertwined, they are each distinct and 

discrete. Political and economic exclusion, studied especially in regard to economic 

Nobel Peace Prize laureate Rigoberta Menchu stands with other indigenous leaders outside the Constitutional Court in Guatemala City, on August 29, 2017. 

Menchu played a prominent role in promoting the rights of Guatemala's indigenous peoples during and after the country's civil war. (Photo by Luis Soto/AP)

Current peace 

processes are 

designed to make 

them more inclusive of 

women, civil society, 

youth, opposition 

political parties, 

business actors, and 

other excluded actors. 

. . . Implementation of 

inclusive processes, 

however, has not 

progressed smoothly 

and is frequently met 

with resistance.

Unpacking Inclusion
4 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

consequences, relates to the characteristics of institutions and state-society relations. One definition of an 

inclusive state cites positive competition between the 

state elites and society, which results in the absence 

of domination of one subset of society over another.5

Social exclusion, on the other hand, can be defined as 

not only limited to state-level economic and political 

institutions and competition to control them, but also 

prevalent in society in the form of values, beliefs, social 

and political attitudes, ideology, and culture that legitimizes and supports the exclusion of certain groups. 

Current peace processes are designed—given the 

destructive effects of exclusion—to make them more inclusive of women, civil society, youth, opposition political parties, business actors, and other excluded actors 

such as indigenous communities, internally displaced 

persons, diasporas, and refugees. Implementation 

of inclusive processes, however, has not progressed 

smoothly and is frequently met with resistance. The 

target, locus, tactics, and motivation of resistance may 

change from one case to another, but resistance in 

some form is common—and success in overcoming it 

varies. Sometimes it is overcome during the peace process (as in the cases of Tajikistan and Aceh, discussed 

below). Other times it is more pervasive and systemic 

(as in Guatemala and Nepal). Resistance cannot be 

overcome easily during the process, disrupts the implementation of the inclusivity agenda, and may lead to 

mass action (whether violent or nonviolent). In either 

case, a systematic and sophisticated understanding of 

how, why, and by whom resistance to inclusion occurs 

has not yet been established. 

For this report, resistance to inclusion is defined as the 

behaviors of a particular person (or persons) or group (or 

Acehnese women pray for a peaceful election at Istiqlal mosque in Jakarta on December 9, 2006. (Photo by Dadang Tri/Reuters)
USIP.ORG 5

groups) that undermine the successful design or implementation of an inclusive peace or transition process.6

The report enhances understanding of this phenomenon by exploring who tends to resist, against whose 

participation, using what tactics, and with what motivation. Data for this report build on case studies collected 

and analyzed between 2013 and 2015 by the Inclusive 

Peace and Transition Initiative (IPTI) and the author’s own 

research. Previous IPTI studies focused on the modalities of inclusion in forty peace and transition negotiations between 1990 and 2015; three new cases were 

added for this research.7 In total, eighty-five incidents 

of resistance in thirty negotiation cases were identified. 

The unit of analysis is resistance behavior at either the 

individual or the group level. The identified events were 

coded into five categories—target, locus (who resists), 

tactics, timing, and motivation—which enabled the identification of trends in resistance behavior across cases.

The three perspectives on examining inclusivity in peace 

processes are to consider it, in turn, as a norm, as a 

negotiation strategy, and as a fundamental human need. 

The last of these is introduced here for the first time because it helps clarify the various motives for resistance, 

enabling practitioners to address and counter them.

INCLUSIVITY AS A NORM

Most existing work on inclusion relies on a normative 

argument to justify an inclusive peace process. Such 

arguments refer primarily to the right to participation 

of women, youth, and civil society in peace processes—specifically in negotiations. This argument in turn 

frequently references UN Security Council Resolutions 

1325 (on women) and 2250 (on youth) in addition to other 

international frameworks recognizing the right of historically excluded and marginalized groups to participate.8

Recent research corroborates this argument. Studies 

document the benefits of including women in peace and 

political transition processes. When women were able 

to influence negotiations, such proposals suggest, they 

brought new perspectives to the conflict and its solution, 

pushed for the initiation and continuation of negotiations, 

facilitated the signing of agreements, and incorporated 

gender equality provisions into agreements. Women’s 

participation in peace processes also correlates positively 

with the likelihood of implementation and (after controlling for other variables) the durability of agreements.9

However, despite this growing preliminary empirical support for the normative argument, understanding why the 

inclusion of women, civil society, and others is correlated 

positively with durability of peace is elusive. Examination 

of the normative argument so far has barely gone beyond 

correlational analysis and into causal mechanisms. 

An important step in strengthening the normative argument has been the recent call not just for the inclusion of 

women but their meaningful inclusion. This advocacy is 

a result of rising apprehension about women’s inclusion 

being seen simply as a head count or as a presence during negotiations.10 Observations from a number of cases 

indicate that meaningful achievements by women were 

possible only when they both participated and managed 

to exert influence in the proceedings.11 This follows more 

recent evidence suggesting that despite a slight increase 

in participation over the last decade, women’s ability to 

influence outcomes and decisions is still sluggish. Critical 

research is thus required to establish what conditions 

lead the way to meaningful participation. 

The normative argument, however, has not to date 

offered much explanation as to why inclusion is resisted. 

Anecdotal evidence from women about the obstacles 

they encounter is considerable—including the idea that 

negotiations are a power game that should include just 

the “fighters in the conflict,” challenges posed by the mediation landscape (that is, mediators’ dismissal of women), lack of awareness about women’s contributions, and 

traditional attitudes toward women’s roles in society.12

These stories help advance understanding about obstacles, but theoretical explanations as to the prevalence of 

resistance are lacking. Knowledge accumulated so far on 

the adoption of human rights norms can also be highly 

beneficial to understanding resistance—how and why 

these norms are sometimes adopted and sometimes 
6 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

rejected by local actors.13 For example, a recent study on 

the Kurdish peace process in Turkey (2012–15) looked 

into limited receptivity of international norms and suggests that they are adopted or rejected by local political 

actors in a way that legitimizes and promotes their self-interested political agenda in the negotiation process, 

not because they create a better, just, or more effective 

peace process or because of any fear of nonconformity 

with processes designed by international actors.14 Hence, 

it is essential to consider the political and psychological 

motives behind such resistance.

INCLUSIVITY AS A NEGOTIATION STRATEGY

The second most prominent argument for an inclusive 

peace process emphasizes the practical and strategic 

gains. Civil society inclusion is considered instrumental to increasing legitimacy and public buy-in and to 

minimizing spoiler effects. Researchers usually agree, 

as they do on the effects of women’s participation, on 

the positive impact of civil society inclusion, especially on the durability of peace agreements.15 They also 

argue that adding more actors to the process, though it 

increases strategic gains, does not necessarily create 

negative consequences even though it might make 

the design more complex and possibly cumbersome.16

Overall, inclusion can be designed in an incremental

and strategic manner to optimize gains.17

Desirée Nilsson, in her analysis of eighty-three peace 

agreements, found that when civil society actors are 

included in the process, either alone or together with 

a broad spectrum of political parties, the risk of peace 

failing is reduced by 50 percent (60 percent when both 

civil society and political parties are included).18 Francisca 

Zanker’s comparative case studies on civil society inclusion expounded these correlational studies by identifying 

the conditions that enhance legitimacy when civil society 

is included in negotiations. She concluded that inviting civil society actors to negotiations is not enough to 

engender legitimacy in a peace process; legitimacy may 

in fact come through other mechanisms.19 What matters 

is the type and diversity of actors. Extremely divisive civil 

society and political polarization impede the positive 

influence of including civil society in a peace process. 

Accountable representation is also key in enhancing the 

legitimacy of a negotiation process achieved by either 

civil society participation or another method. 

Thania Paffenholz added further nuance to the field with 

her framework on the seven modalities through which 

participation of civil society is realized in negotiations.20

She expanded the options for civil society inclusion 

beyond the “negotiation table” to inclusion “around” and 

“away from” the table. Inclusion modalities designed 

away from the negotiation table (such as consultations, 

inclusive commissions, and high-level problem-solving 

workshops) can deliver equally meaningful input from 

civil society to the negotiations if designed effectively 

and strategically.21 In fact, these modalities were sometimes more effective than those that included civil society 

at the table (national dialogues, enlarging negotiation 

delegations, and observer status in negotiations). Hence, 

following the strategic inclusion approach, the benefits of 

civil society participation can be realized simultaneously 

with keeping the number of actors at the table manageable. Paffenholz and her colleagues at IPTI enhanced understanding about how the participation process actually 

takes place by providing information on who tends to be 

included from civil society in a negotiation process, with 

what rationale, and through which mechanisms.22

Adding another dimension to strategic effectiveness, 

Véronique Dudouet, Stina Lundström, and David Rampf 

examined how an inclusive process, if implemented 

incrementally, is likely to increase the effectiveness of 

a peace process. The two-stage process they describe 

includes an initial cease-fire with a restricted agenda negotiated between the main conflict parties followed by a 

participatory stage during which reforms and peacebuilding mechanisms are negotiated and decided.23

In sum, the practical-strategic approach to inclusion 

has been extremely instrumental in advancing the 

practice. It urges practitioners to consider the political 
USIP.ORG 7

calculations and power dynamics realistically in a negotiation process while strategically incorporating excluded social and political actors to increase legitimacy and 

ownership of the process. However, it still does not 

offer a theoretical narrative on how and why resistance 

to inclusion occurs, though one inference is clear—that 

resistance originates mostly with powerholder elites 

and is motivated by their politically competitive behavior and reluctance to share power.24 This perspective 

helps us understand the inclination of powerholders to 

politically exclude others from the negotiation process. 

Overall, although the normative and strategic lenses 

have proved useful so far in promoting inclusive peace 

processes, they are not enough. First, they fall short in 

explaining more systemic politically and socially engrained, identity-based resistance. When resistance is 

motivated by political competition during the negotiations, it may be more successfully overcome during 

the process, as in Tajikistan and Aceh, for example. 

(This is referred to in this report as targeted resistance.) 

However, at other times, it may be more systematic 

and pervasive, such as in Guatemala and Nepal, and 

supported by a widespread ideological narrative that 

legitimizes the social, economic, and political exclusion 

of a subset of society. This type cannot be easily overcome and is more likely to disrupt the implementation 

of the inclusion agenda at some point. In this latter type, 

members of dominant social groups—to which political 

and economic elites also belong—want to maintain both 

their dominant group status and the long-lasting privileges afforded by an economically, politically, and socially 

exclusive system. This type of resistance also brings 

political and economic elites and larger identity groups 

together because their interests are often aligned. 

Second, these two perspectives define inclusion as 

the participation of various societal groups other than 

the main negotiating representatives. Focus is on the 

process of participation—the participating societal 

actors’ input and influence over the process—and the 

overall effect and gains of participation on successful 

implementation and achievement of durable peace. 

Under this lens, designing an inclusive process may 

become routine when participation space is created 

for certain groups; it may be treated simply as a public 

opinion instrument measuring whether enough public 

buy-in and legitimacy exists to initiate and complete a 

peace process. However, a significant obstacle may 

arise when a negotiation process seems inclusive 

procedurally yet fails to satisfy and balance the fundamental psychological need (among all social groups) 

for a sense of belonging and distinctiveness. In this 

event, inclusion remains symbolic, and the process fails 

to create meaningful participation.25

Symbolic inclusion conveys an intention for inclusion, 

but appropriate related behaviors do not necessarily follow. In fact, powerholders may use symbolic inclusion to 

disguise their exclusionary agenda in order to not lose 

their legitimacy with the public and to not appear to be 

bullying those who favor inclusive practices. Ironically, 

those who resist often agree to initiate an inclusive 

process to regain their lost legitimacy, but then look for 

opportunities to block the implementation of provisions 

that are disadvantageous to them because a genuinely 

inclusive society threatens their privileged, dominant 

status. It is easier to set up symbolic inclusion because 

resistance from privileged groups is less likely. However, 

the moment the process turns toward genuine inclusion 

or threatens long-practiced privileges, strong resistance is almost certain to follow. For instance, in 2011, 

the Egyptian military initially agreed to a national dialogue—a dialogue it later sabotaged—precisely because 

pressure from the masses generated a legitimacy crisis. 

A genuinely inclusive process is more likely to be met 

with stronger and persistent resistance. A procedurally 

inclusive process, even if backed by a strong normative 

paradigm, is not enough to prevent such manipulation. 

Thus, inclusive peace processes should be designed to 

take into account the psychological meaning of inclusion, which treats it as a fundamental human need. This 

last perspective is crucial to understand why resistance 

to inclusion is also widespread. 
8 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

INCLUSIVITY AS A FUNDAMENTAL 

HUMAN NEED

At the heart of inclusion and exclusion lies the basic cognitive process of how we organize ourselves 

socially into in-groups and out-groups, which speaks 

directly to people’s need to belong to one societal 

group or another. Humans evolved to organize themselves socially not only into groups, but into similar and 

distinct groups. Identification with large groups constitutes social identity.26 In creating and maintaining a 

socially, economically, or politically exclusionist society, 

individual-level psychological dynamics (such as bias 

and prejudice toward out-group members) interact with 

institutional- or systemic-level dynamics (such as ideologies and narratives legitimizing group dominance and 

social hierarchy to maintain institutional exclusion).27

Inclusion as a fundamental psychological need can be 

described as the degree to which a disadvantaged (excluded or subordinate) social group perceives that they 

are esteemed and respected members of the society 

as a result of fair treatment, which in turn satisfies their 

need for both belongingness and uniqueness simultaneously.28 Being accepted into the in-group cultivates 

the need for belongingness and should not deny or 

reject the unique or distinct characteristics of the included, and therefore should be accompanied with an 

appreciation of those characteristics.

This view of social inclusion is echoed in Marilyn 

Brewer’s optimal distinctiveness theory, which suggests that the main motivation affecting strength of 

identification with a social group derives from the 

competition between the fundamental human needs 

for belongingness (inclusion) and uniqueness (differentiation or distinctiveness).29 Human behavior constantly 

seeks an equilibrium between these two fundamental 

needs—known as the optimal level of distinctiveness. 

People seek a balance between the validation of their 

identity and similarity with others (the pull factor) and 

the recognition of their uniqueness and distinction from 

others (the push factor).30 Given a deprivation of one or 

the other, behavior will generally be inclined in that direction. The ongoing tension between belongingness 

and uniqueness motivates seeking inclusion in a social 

group. Inclusion is an equilibrium, the optimal balance 

between belongingness and uniqueness (see figure 1). 

Under the alternatives to inclusion—exclusion, assimilation, or differentiation—these competing needs are out 

of balance and thus will continue to motivate individuals to seek changes until they reach equilibrium.31

What motivates people to seek this balance is complex, but one explanation highlights the negative cognitive and emotional consequences of social exclusion. 

Recent research in neuroscience enlightens us about 

the sources of these fundamental human needs. For 

instance, MRI images demonstrate that social exclusion 

overlaps in our brain with physical pain: each hurts 

equally.32 Exclusion, Paul Hutchison, Dominic Abrams, 

and Julie Christian explain, has significant psychological consequences for the individual and for the group. 

It leads to emotions such as anger, disappointment, 

and sadness. It results in a sense of loss of social support, decreased access to resources, and diminished 

group self-esteem. All of these eventually reduce the 

excluded individual’s or group’s sense of self-efficacy. Reduction of self-efficacy in turn undermines the 

perception of control. Loss of control is known to be a 

trigger of various negative emotions such as anxiety, 

frustration, and anger. In the end, social exclusion becomes a root cause of low self-esteem, perceived loss 

of control, and feelings of not being valued equally with 

members of the dominant group. Behavioral responses 

among the members of the excluded group vary: anger 

and aggression in some because of diminished sense 

of control, distancing and withdrawal in others, and 

(among a smaller subgroup) prosocial feelings.33

To illustrate this perspective in the context of peace 

processes, consider the demands for women’s inclusion. Women demand to be accepted and included 

in the negotiation and mediation processes that 

determine the future of their country as equal and 
USIP.ORG 9

esteemed members—“just like men”—and challenge their historical exclusion. However, they also 

want their unique contributions to the society to be 

recognized “as different from men’s” and demand 

to be included in these processes with their “distinct” characteristics. We know that women bring 

unique perspectives and issues to the negotiation 

table; without them it is likely that negotiations take 

a different course. However, women often complain 

about “having to act like men,” that is, being forced 

to assimilate to male-dominant gender norms if they 

are to be included in decision-making and negotiation processes. Inclusion of this kind denies women's 

distinct characteristics and thus cannot be considered 

as optimal inclusion. For example, in Kenya during the 

mediation process conducted after the post-election 

violence in 2008, Minister of Justice Martha Karua 

often spoke to the media even as male cabinet members refrained from doing so. Because of this, she 

was called “the only man in the president’s cabinet,” 

as if it were a compliment, though it in fact denied her 

recognition for her unique and distinct gender identity 

and her contribution as a woman. This rhetoric forced 

her to assimilate into “honorary man” rules so that she 

could be a “true” insider. This kind of behavior, which 

appears to be the inclusion of a woman in a negotiation process, is not optimal inclusion that fulfills the 

fundamental needs of that individual; it is instead 

assimilation—a suboptimal outcome.34

Recent attempts to include women in negotiations 

have also been differentiating, for instance, by limiting women’s participation and input in negotiations 

to gender-only committees or issues, which is also 

suboptimal. In this case, women are recognized for 

their distinct characteristics but are again not seen as 

equal insiders. Their contributions are isolated and 

limited to women-only issues, such as in the recent 

round of negotiations on Cyprus. In response to 

pressure from the United Nations and the US Agency 

for International Development to follow UN Resolution 

1325 and advocacy by the local Gender Advisory Team 

(a women’s group formed in Cyprus with members from 

both Turkish and Greek communities), a committee was 

established in 2015 specifically to include women in 

the reinvigorated bilateral negotiations. The committee’s work, however, was limited to issues concerning 

gender equality. It was also announced by the Cypriot 

Low belongingness High belongingness

Low uniqueness 

Exclusion Assimilation

Accepted as an insider as long as you conform to the 

norms and rules set by the dominant group and set aside 

who you are

High uniqueness

Differentiation

Your unique characteristics are accepted but you are not 

seen as an insider

Inclusion

Treated as an insider like others and also allowed to retain 

your unique value and identity within the group

Figure 1. Inclusion as the Optimal Balance between Belongingness and Uniqueness

Source: Adapted from Shore et al., “Inclusion and Diversity in Work Groups,” Journal of Management 37, no. 4 (2011): 1266.
10 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

leadership that it was “pleased to convey that in the 

margins of the bicommunal negotiations to reaching a settlement on the Cyprus problem, a Technical 

Committee on Gender Equality has already been 

established” (emphasis added).35 Further, the committee members indicated on a number of occasions how 

challenging it had been to get their voices heard by 

decision makers and negotiators.36

In a peace process, such assimilation or differentiation 

practices can easily be presented as “including women,” but none of these alternatives are optimal forms.

One group’s status relative to others also affects both 

belongingness and distinctiveness. Moral superiority is 

the basis of legitimization for the in-group to dominate 

or actively subjugate out-groups.37 The in-group justifies this situation ideologically with the help of a “hierarchy enhancing legitimizing narrative.”38 Such narratives 

justify the unequal power and unequal access to economic and political resources between groups. Societal 

groups in an advantaged position seek to maintain, 

enhance, or exaggerate the positive social comparisons that favor their group only.39 When their dominant 

status or privileged group position is threatened, which 

is often the case when an inclusive agenda is set in 

motion, the dominant group perceives a threat and in 

response often resists inclusion. The status quo thus 

reinforces low- and high-status groups, and the system 

based on economic, political, and social exclusion repeatedly and consistently favors high-status groups.

Social dominance theory further conceptualizes the 

process of establishing a position of dominance for 

the in-group against the out-group and offers insights 

into understanding the motivation for resistance to 

inclusion. Social dominance theory analyzes group 

relations not only as in-group and out-group, but also 

by critically looking at which groups are disadvantaged 

in the society, referred to as subordinate groups. Such 

groups have fewer opportunities to “belong to” valued 

groups in society and thus have unequal access to 

power, resources, and privileges. Unlike the disadvantaged subordinate groups (minorities, women, refugees, for example), dominant groups occupy higher 

status positions in society. In societies organized along 

these kinds of strict group-based social hierarchies, 

such as in Nepal, the dominant group or groups systematically receive most of the positive social, political, 

and economic value generated (resources, political 

power, social status) at the expense of subordinate 

groups. Hence, in these societies, social, economic, 

and political exclusion are often intertwined. However, 

social dominance theory argues that at the heart of this 

structure is the social value the group receives, such as 

status and esteem. Subordinate groups thus constantly 

strive to belong to valued groups in society (that is, to 

be included as esteemed and equally respected), in 

other words, as similar to dominant group members 

yet retaining their distinct (such as ethnic or religious) 

identity. An inclusion agenda in peace negotiations 

creates an historic opportunity for subordinate groups 

to secure such social standing. Simultaneously, historically dominant groups strive to keep entrenched social 

hierarchies intact for themselves. 

Social hierarchies are reproduced and maintained at 

all levels: individual-psychological, group, institutional, 

and systemic-ideological. At the individual level, they 

are expressed through an individual’s attitudes and 

beliefs in the form of implicit and explicit bias, stereotyping, and an individual’s social dominance orientation 

(the extent to which the individual holds beliefs that 

legitimize a social hierarchy). These beliefs generate 

discrimination and exclusion toward members of subordinate groups in everyday life. At the systemic-ideological level, hierarchy-enhancing forces produce, justify, 

and maintain a high group–based social hierarchy 

and inequality. These forces exist simultaneously with 

hierarchy-attenuating forces that push toward groupbased equality and equal social value for everyone. 

Hierarchy-enhancing narratives are embedded in 

culture and institutions and passed on to individuals in 

various ways. On the one hand, individual attitudes are 
USIP.ORG 11

shaped by the widespread ideology that legitimizes 

social hierarchy; on the other, individual discriminatory 

and exclusive behaviors toward subgroups provide a 

conducive environment for the hierarchy-enhancing 

ideology to flourish and persist over the long term. 

It is not uncommon for dominant group members to 

adopt a hierarchy-enhancing ideology justifying the 

hierarchy, which also often blames subordinate groups 

for negative social outcomes. The dominant group 

adheres tightly to the narratives that promote, justify, 

and legitimize the hierarchy between the dominant 

and subordinate groups. These narratives not only 

help justify unequal power and unequal access to 

resources, but also diminish the potential motivation 

for the social mobilization of subordinate groups.40 By 

contrast, members of subordinate groups often adopt a 

hierarchy-attenuating ideology that advocates societal 

change toward equality and justice for all in society. 

A peace process that advocates including subordinate 

groups in the political and economic system as equal 

members of society is a hierarchy-attenuating force, 

one that triggers resistance from dominant groups 

and hierarchy-enhancing forces, which view any move 

toward genuine inclusion as an ontological threat. 

Individual variations may also exist within each group. 

Some in dominant groups with low social dominance 

orientation are more likely to act with the hierarchy-attenuating forces and support the inclusion of subordinate groups. Likewise, some within subordinate groups 

with high social dominance orientation are more likely 

to act with the hierarchy-enhancing forces and justify 

the continuation of the hierarchical system. 

Maoist rebels in south-central Nepal listen to their commander discuss the cease-fire that brought an end to the country's ten-year-long conflict in May 

2006. (Photo by Ruth Fremson/New York Times)
12 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

Types of Resistance 

Resistance to inclusion in peace processes can be 

sorted into two categories. Targeted (limited) resistance 

usually takes place either as opposition to the participation of a particular group or individual (such as a political party, women, diaspora, certain representatives of 

civil society, or clan representatives) in the negotiation 

or peace process or as opposition that is limited to a 

particular time during any stage of the process. This 

type of resistance is primarily motivated by political 

competition or economic self-interest. 

On the other hand, pervasive resistance is usually more 

entrenched. It is systematic, often perpetrated by actors 

belonging to the dominant social or political group, and 

persists throughout the different phases of a peace process, often with the aim of curbing the process, either 

in general or the inclusion-related elements specifically. 

Pervasive resistance tends to have more potential to disrupt or reverse the inclusion achievements of a peace 

process since it lasts throughout the process. When one 

opportunity fails, it is likely that the same group will try to 

revive its hindrance efforts at a later stage. Hence, more 

effort is required to overcome such resistance.

The 1997 negotiations to end the civil war in Tajikistan is 

an example of targeted resistance. Despite a request by 

UN mediators, the Tajik government initially did not want 

to include civil society representatives in the negotiations, 

arguing they were too cozy with the opposition. However, 

as ideas from civil society proved useful—especially 

those from the high-level track 2 workshops known as the 

Inter-Tajik Dialogue—President Emomali Rahmon softened 

his attitude and stopped seeing civil society as a political 

threat. Civil society representatives who participated in 

the Inter-Tajik Dialogue were later included in the negotiation teams in the UN-mediated talks. The subsequent 

agreement ended the civil war in Tajikistan and was implemented, if not fully, at least to a large extent. 

An example of pervasive resistance is the Guatemala 

peace process, especially the behavior of the economic 

and political elite. In the 1994 negotiations, the signed 

Framework Accord for the Renewal of the Negotiating 

Process between the government of Guatemala and the 

armed group URNG (Guatemalan National Revolutionary 

Unity) established the Civil Society Assembly (ASC) as the 

primary venue for broad civil society participation.41 The 

ASC was a nationally representative and elected body 

that included political parties, religious groups, unions, academic institutions, small and medium enterprises, journalists, development nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), 

women, Maya (indigenous) groups, and human rights 

organizations. However, one of the most powerful groups 

in Guatemalan society—the Coordinating Committee 

of Commercial, Industrial, and Financial Associations 

(CACIF)—boycotted the ASC and did not participate in the 

process.42 CACIF favored the status quo, particularly the 

aspects of the peace process that threatened the associations’ long-held economic privileges, and organized 

the elite to play a disruptive role, especially during the 

implementation of the peace agreement. Even though 

the CACIF could not prevent the agreement from being 

signed, it later organized a campaign during the referendum against the implementation of articles related to land 

reform and succeeded in curbing those efforts.43

Figure 2 illustrates that resistance to inclusion can be 

observed at each level and every stage of a political 

settlement. It can occur first as resistance to an inclusive 

negotiation process (such as sabotaging the participation of women). For example, during Yemen’s national 

dialogue, women’s participation was resisted by public 
USIP.ORG 13

shaming, acts of humiliation, and even physical attacks 

or threats of attacks. Second, resistance can occur 

again within the broader peace process, such as by resisting the codification of inclusion-related provisions. In 

the peace agreement between the Colombian government and the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia 

(FARC), several of the gender-related provisions were 

dropped after the agreement failed to pass in a referendum.44 Third, resistance can also occur during the 

implementation of codified articles designed to encourage more inclusive institutions and society (for example, 

preventing women from being represented in security 

institutions such as the police force). According to a 

recent report on the implementation of the FARC peace 

agreement, the implementation rate for the stipulations 

(measurable commitments) with a gender perspective 

(4 percent) lags far behind that for other stipulations (22 

percent). Further, female community leaders complain 

that promises given by the government during the 

negotiations are not being kept. They refer to many 

instances of exclusion of women from decision-making 

processes, especially at the local level during the implementation phase, such as in meetings concerning rural 

development projects.45 Yet it is still considered one 

of the most innovative peace agreements in terms of 

incorporating gender equality provisions: 130 of the 578 

stipulations commit the parties to address issues from a 

gender perspective to promote parity.46

Figure 2: Inclusive Negotiation, Inclusive Peace Process, and Inclusive Institutions/Society

Limited resistance is usually pertinent to one stage of the political settlement, though it can occur at any stage, or aims 

to prevent the participation of a particular group of people at any stage (such as women or a branch of civil society). 

Pervasive resistance is more persistent throughout all stages of political settlement and based on the entrenched and 

systematic exclusion of a social identity group from the process. 

STAGE OF

POLITICAL

SETTLEMENT 

Negotiation Codification Materialization

OBJECTIVE OF

INCLUSION

Inclusive

negotiation

Limited resistance

can occur in any stage

Inclusive

peace process

Inclusive

institutions/society

Pervasive 

resistance

TYPE OF

RESISTANCE 
14 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

Locus of Resistance

Analysis of the eighty-five incidents of resistance to inclusion considered in this study reveals that resistance 

has more than one origin. However, in just over half of 

these incidents (56 percent), it comes from the powerholder elite (political leaders, military, government 

actors). In about 13 percent, it came from rebel groups, 

and in 20 percent from societal actors such as broadly 

organized ethnic and religious groups (see figure 3).

POWERHOLDERS

That most of the resistance comes from the powerholder elite—those such as high-caste elites and old guard 

politicians in Nepal or the privileged economic and 

political elite in alliance with the military in Guatemala—

is not surprising.

Signed in 2006, the Comprehensive Peace Accord 

(CPA) between the Maoist armed insurgency and political parties in Nepal led to the end of the monarchy and 

the formation of an inclusive Constituent Assembly (CA). 

The agreement created an historic window for including, 

despite some opposition, marginalized societal actors 

into politics. The CA was tasked with drafting a new 

constitution. Although the traditional parties accepted the 

CA and its authority, resistance to inclusion built up and 

became stronger during the implementation phase of the 

CPA. Given the Maoists’ commitment, the CPA aimed at 

creating a new state structure to include representation of 

diverse social groups excluded for many years. The 2008 

CA convened a highly representative and inclusive body 

that included lower castes, ethnic groups, and women. 

Yet in 2012, when it failed to produce a draft constitution, 

it was dissolved and replaced in 2013 by a less inclusive 

one that also reached an impasse on the demands of 

ethnic minorities for less centralized federalism and more 

power sharing in state governance. Unable to agree on a 

constitution, the decision-making process was taken over 

by old guard political leaders who were all male and from 

traditionally privileged upper-caste groups.47 Manjushree 

Thapa summarized the political elite’s rationale for hijacking the inclusive constitution-making process: 

What do you do if you’re the high caste leader of a democratic party faced with a vote that will end your caste’s supremacy? You avoid voting at all costs. This is what the leaders of 

the Nepali Congress and the Communist Party of Nepal (UML) 

did in Kathmandu on May 27, 2012. Their refusal to compromise with the Unified Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist) and 

other parties led to the failure to pass a new constitution and 

the dissolution of the country’s only democratically elected 

body, the 601 member Constituent Assembly.48

Even though the negotiation process created a historic 

opportunity for excluded groups in Nepal, the old political 

elite, fearful of losing their privileged status and dominance, eventually captured the decision-making process 

and reversed most of the inclusion achievements. Some 

intellectuals from the dominant social groups argued 

that the “inclusion agenda favored the foreign powers, 

Maoists, and those ethnic groups that are going to take 

the country to disunity and division.” Further, members 

of privileged groups claimed that it was actually the 

Brahmins and Chhetris—the two dominant castes—who 

felt discriminated against because of the implementation of the social inclusion agenda.49 Such examples are 

representative of dominant group attitudes blaming the 

subordinate groups for insisting on the inclusion agenda 

and hence putting the stability of the country at risk. 

The social-psychological perspective on inclusion is critical to understanding this type of resistance. In a complex 

conflict setting such as Nepal, individual-psychological 

and institutional-ideological levels are entangled and 
USIP.ORG 15

Government

21.9%

Political

leaders

21.9%

Rebel

groups

12.5%

Military

12.5%

Opposition

political parties 

10.9%

Ethnic/religious

groups

20.3%

interact with each other in multiple ways to sustain the 

exclusive system. Nepal has been historically organized 

along a strict social hierarchy. The country’s Muluki Ain 

code legitimized the hierarchical structure of the society 

by ranking castes from more to less favorable.50 Those 

at the top, Brahmins and Chhetris, excluded others from 

access to economic and political resources. This code, 

which was promulgated in 1854 together with other 

Hindu norms and mythology, was the basis of the hierarchy-enhancing narrative and used to justify the social 

and political exclusion of other groups. When the old 

political elite hijacked the inclusive constitution-making 

efforts, they relied on narratives such as this. 

The constitution was not the only area in which the traditional powerholder elite pushed back and recaptured 

what it had lost. The inclusive reforms promised in the 

CPA to transform the Nepali army into a more representative one was also reversed to a great extent by 

the military and political elite. Implementing the core 

principles agreed to in the CPA, such as the demobilization of the Maoist guerillas and the integration 

of more than nineteen thousand former combatants 

into the Nepali army, was repudiated by the elites 

and the military on the grounds that it was in the 

Maoists’ self-interest at the expense of the country. 

Reintegration became highly controversial during the 

implementation phase and, as a result of successful 

pushback from the military, has never been realized 

completely. Even though the Maoists came to power during the 2008 elections and formed a coalition 

government, the dominant caste groups were able 

Figure 3. Locus of Resistance 

Of the 85 incidents of resistance to inclusion identified for this report, more than half (56%) originated with the powerholder elite (political leaders, military, government actors).
16 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

(given their control of the military) to build resistance to 

the Maoists’ inclusion during the implementation of the 

agreement. The resistance of the army escalated into 

a governmental crisis in which Nepal’s cabinet voted to 

dismiss the military, which prompted the Maoists’ largest coalition partner to quit the government.51 Although 

resistance on this issue during the negotiation stage 

was not significant enough to prevent codification into 

the peace agreement, the backlash from the army 

came during the implementation phase, when it resorted to the institution’s decision-making procedures to 

prevent the inclusion of Maoist insurgents. 

REBEL GROUPS

Rebel groups sometimes resist the participation of 

others in negotiations for the purpose of excluding political competitors or rival groups rather than protecting 

their own group identity and status. Examples include 

the negotiations in Aceh, an autonomous province in 

Indonesia, and the Darfur region of Sudan. In Aceh, the 

armed group GAM (Geurakan Acèh Meurdèka, or Free 

Aceh Movement) tried to keep other Acehnese parties 

out of the negotiation process even as the government 

tried to broaden participation, which GAM perceived 

as undermining its negotiating position. Similarly, in 

Turkey, to maintain its control over the process, the PKK 

(Partiya Karkerên Kurdistanê, or Kurdish Workers’ Party) 

wanted to exclude all other Kurdish groups from the 

peace process between 2013 and 2015. In the negotiations over Darfur, the Justice and Equality Movement 

(JEM) sought to strengthen its position as the primary 

representative for Darfurians, and tried to exclude other 

rebel groups from track 1 negotiations. The negotiations were delayed because of JEM’s rejection of civil 

society participation and dismissal of the legitimacy of 

other rebel groups. 

Justice and Equality Movement leader Khalil Ibrahim, center, and his brother Jibril Ibrahim, left, during the Darfur peace talks, in Doha, Qatar, on February 11, 2009. (Photo by Maneesh Bakshi/AP)
USIP.ORG 17

SOCIETY

Societal resistance to inclusion usually involves mass 

resistance, whether nonviolent or violent, against the 

participation of other ethnic, religious, or social groups in 

negotiations or against more inclusive institutions. This 

sometimes occurs parallel to powerholder elite resistance, 

especially if the elites and the resisting societal group are 

from the same group. But societal resistance may also 

occur in opposition to the powerholder elite. This is especially the case when the elite take steps advancing an 

inclusion agenda but are rejected by an ethnic or religious 

group trying to maintain its position in society. 

In Fiji, the interests of both the powerholder elite and the 

ethnic group aligned to oppose inclusion. Resistance to 

the inclusion of Indo-Fijians in the political system was 

resisted both by the military elite and the nationalistic indigenous Fijian population. Indigenous Fijians ruled the 

country for decades and barred Indo-Fijians from access 

to political power. Violent attacks by indigenous Fijians 

against Indo-Fijians took place occasionally. Whenever 

an Indo-Fijian party won an election, the result was reversed with the help of a military coup. About 80 percent 

of the land was owned by indigenous Fijians, but about 

90 percent of the crops were produced by Indo-Fijians. 

Indigenous Fijians, the indigenous elite, and the military 

all had the same interest: keeping their dominant group 

status in society and the political privileges they had 

gained during British colonial rule. In this context, that 

the last inclusive constitution-making process initiated in 

2014 ultimately failed is not a surprise. The military elite 

recaptured the decision-making process and rejected 

the draft constitution prepared during public consultations and a national dialogue facilitated by international 

NGOs and the UN Development Program (UNDP).

On the other hand, in Kyrgyzstan, the attitude of the ruling political elite and the dominant social group (ethnic 

Kyrgyz) about including Uzbeks in the political system 

differed. Following independence from the Soviet Union, 

the ethnic Kyrgyz dominated politics in Kyrgyzstan at 

the expense of the Uzbek minority, who thrived in the 

business sector. Uzbeks were mostly excluded from the 

public sector; only 8 to 9 percent of civil service employees were non-Kyrgyz. Divisions and ethnic violence between the Uzbeks and the Kyrgyz came to a head in the 

2010 riots, during which nearly a thousand people died. 

The newly elected and moderate president, Almazbek 

Atambayev, wanted to introduce political reforms in 2011 

in a document titled the “Concept Note on National 

Unity and Interethnic Relations” to address the causes 

of the conflict and formulate a new ethnic policy that 

would encompass an inclusive national citizenship and 

civic identity that included Russians, Kyrgyz, Uzbeks, and 

other minorities. The government sought input on these 

reforms by creating consultative councils across the 

country. These attempts, however, were resisted by both 

hard-line Kyrgyz nationalists in the opposition parties in 

Parliament and those outside in society.

Melis Myrzakmatov, the de facto leader of South 

Kyrgyzstan, consistently favored the Kyrgyz population and did not support further Uzbek involvement in 

national politics. In his book, he shared the view that 

Kyrgyzstan should be a state focused on the Kyrgyz 

people and that other ethnicities living in Kyrgyzstan 

should assimilate to Kyrgyz traditions. Although 

Myrzakmatov was dismissed from his post in 2013, his 

ideas remained popular among Kyrgyz nationalists and 

opposition political parties, such as Ata Jurt. The narrative of Kyrgyz identity, as exemplified in Myrzakmatov’s 

book, celebrates the dominant group status of the 

Kyrgyz and excludes and subordinates Uzbeks and 

other minorities. In the end, the nationalists resisted 

Atambayev’s inclusive ethnic concept and released 

their own version emphasizing Kyrgyz supremacy. 
18 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

Behavioral Modes of Resistance

Resistance to inclusion is expressed through various 

behaviors, which fall along a continuum of directness 

and aggressiveness as implicit-elusive, direct-explicit, 

and coercive.

IMPLICIT-ELUSIVE TACTICS

Implicit resistance entails elusive and unconscious 

acts of resistance. Behaviors include implicit (unconscious) bias and automatically activated stereotypes.52

Implicit bias and automatic stereotypes may activate 

resistance toward including a specific person or group 

simply because of the social category they represent.53

Implicit bias may be prevalent even among people who 

consider themselves pro-equality and pro-inclusion. In 

fact, many argue that automated stereotyping or implicit bias is more widespread than explicit bias. Simple 

cues from the environment, such as the social category 

a person represents—being a woman, belonging to 

an ethnic group—can activate stereotypes and lead to 

discriminatory behavior that works against inclusivity.

Implicit bias is a strong predictor of behavior and has consequences in shaping not only our individual decisions, 

but also our social environments through collective impact. An individual may not consciously want to inhibit the 

participation of a person, but implicit bias and automatic 

stereotyping can lead to inhibitive behavior. Biases and 

stereotypes, especially pertaining to gender and race, 

are known to be automatically activated by semantic cues 

without the full awareness of the perceiver.54 For example, 

gender-related cues in group-dominance-based patriarchal cultures may automatically generate behaviors that 

leave women without a seat at the negotiation table and 

keep them out of critical decision-making roles. However, 

Filipino Muslim women rally outside the Office of the Presidential Adviser on the Peace Process in suburban Pasig, east of Manila, on March 20, 2013. (Photo 

by Aaron Favila/AP)
USIP.ORG 19

it is not easy to detect this kind of behavior, especially 

in a negotiation setting. Anecdotes and interviews with 

women negotiators reporting the behaviors of powerful 

individuals toward them are illuminating in efforts to understand this kind of implicit resistance. 

A woman’s assignment to a negotiation team dominated by powerful men may itself become a cue that 

activates such bias and leads to exclusionary and discriminatory behavior. The traditional pattern of behavior 

that “deals are done by and among powerful men” can 

be an unconscious shortcut that triggers behavior that 

generates discrimination and exclusion for women at 

the negotiation table. This may happen even when 

these men do not explicitly oppose the inclusion of 

women; in fact, they can be supportive. Yet implicit bias 

triggered by simple cues still prevails in micro-behaviors that may be contrary to explicit views. 

The story of the appointment of a woman to a negotiating panel in the Philippines illustrates how implicit bias 

can lead to assumptions that women are satisfied with 

a supporting position rather than a leadership role:

The chair of the panel called me up because he was a 

friend of mine. Every time he got some important position 

he would call me because he would ask me to help him. 

“So,” he said, “I was just asked to be the chair of the panel, 

will you help me?” And I said, “No, because I am done sitting behind you. If you want me, I will sit beside you. So, you 

make me a member of your panel or I am not going to help 

you.” And I told him, “You know I am as good as you are. So 

why don’t you?” I think this wasn’t resistance, because he 

agreed right away. It was just that he was so used to women 

“just helping him.” Just being there at the back, being their 

brains as it were. And then at a certain point I said, “No I’m 

not doing this anymore.” So, that is how I became a member 

of the panel and he agreed. Sometimes it’s just because 

they don’t think about it. That’s where the resistance is. In a 

sense it is very subtle. You have to ask for it, you have to assert yourself, and confront because they won’t think about it. 

It’s like they think you are not interested. It’s not that I don’t 

think he thought that I was not competent, but I think he just 

thought that it was not something that I was interested in.55

Such bias is subtle, unconscious, and unintentional but 

can still prevent inclusion in negotiation and peace 

processes, which require full awareness by the participants, mediators, and observers to detect when bias is 

present in a negotiation and mediation setting. Those 

in decision-making positions also need to pause and 

stop subconscious reasoning and replace immediate 

action based on assumptions and impulsive decisions 

with a thorough and fair deliberative process. Control 

for implicit bias entails applying the same criteria in 

selecting all candidates and evaluating everyone under 

the same or equivalent circumstances. 

DIRECT-EXPLICIT TACTICS

Direct and explicit resistance involves intentional use 

of explicitly hostile and competitive tactics, short of 

violence, to prevent the participation of particular 

groups in a peace process. As long as these tactics 

are employed, regardless of the inclusion procedures 

adopted, the inclusion will be far from satisfying fundamental psychological needs. Such resistance is not 

automatic like implicit bias and not forceful like violent 

resistance. These tactics resemble everyday resistance 

tactics in that they are less forceful and less visible 

than coercion; resistors often adopt a manipulative 

and duplicitous approach to influence or reverse the 

outcomes of an inclusive process.56 One definition is 

“resistance that doesn’t make any headlines.”57 One 

reason resistors take this route is that they do not want 

to end the negotiation process, which a spoiler would, 

but do want to maintain their exclusive control over 

the process. These tactics often aim at manipulating or 

capturing the decision-making processes in ways that 

eventually diminish their inclusive nature rather than 

ending them entirely.58 They were observed in almost 

all the cases examined and occurred more frequently 

than coercive tactics. Most of the time direct-explicit 

tactics are associated with powerholder groups, especially political elites; but other actors, such as rebel 

groups and opposition movements, also use them. 

Four common tactics are sabotage, false compliance, 

foot dragging, and vocal resistance. 
20 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

Sabotage

Sabotaging the participation of a person or group in 

peace negotiations and processes is a common resistance tactic. It aims to block the access of people to an 

inclusive process, to sensitive information about the 

process, or to the decision-making setting. Blocking 

participation can take many forms, among which are 

manipulating and hijacking decision-making rules and 

processes, boycotts and withdrawals from inclusive bodies, and dissolving commissions or consultative bodies.

An example is the constitution-making process in Nepal 

described earlier. When the Constituent Assembly could 

not agree on a constitution, the decision-making process 

was taken over by former political leaders, all of whom 

were from traditionally privileged upper-caste groups. 

They used the failure to reach an agreement—along 

with the hardship caused by the April 2015 earthquakes 

that killed thousands and left Kathmandu devastated—to 

recapture the decision-making process and decide in a 

closed-door session on an exclusive deal that sidelined 

minority groups and their representatives. Monopolizing 

the decision-making process, they eventually formulated 

a constitution favoring their preferences and maintaining the privileged status of their social groups. Some 

of the inclusion gains for women and low caste groups 

achieved during earlier negotiations were thus reversed. 

This catalyzed mass mobilization among the excluded 

ethnic minorities, especially the Madhesis in the south, 

who favored a federalist constitution and felt betrayed 

not only because they were left out of the decision-making process, but also because they felt the promises 

made in the Comprehensive Peace Agreement to 

address their grievances were not kept. The timing of the 

takeover was also crucial. Were it not for the earthquakes 

and the two rounds of failure to reach an agreement on 

the constitution, the old powerholder elite would have 

found it more difficult to legitimize their unilateral move. 

Furthermore, because this resistance closed the space 

for a more inclusive society, the Maoist party also slowly 

withdrew its political support from the inclusion agenda.59

Sabotage can be accomplished by micro-behaviors or 

setting up minor obstacles. For instance, during the inter-Congolese negotiations of the Democratic Republic 

of the Congo (DRC) in 2000, President Laurent Kabila 

engaged in micro-behaviors that sabotaged the inclusion of unarmed opposition and civil society in the 

negotiations. The 1999 Lusaka Ceasefire Agreement 

established the Inter-Congolese Political Negotiations, 

the objectives of which were to structure a new political administration in the DRC with the assistance of a 

facilitator to work with the DRC government, the rebel 

groups Rally for Congolese Democracy and Movement 

for the Liberation of the Congo, opposition political 

parties, and civil society representatives, also known as 

forces vives. Kabila thought that allowing civil society 

and opposition participation would eventually decrease his power given that the negotiations not only 

gave “equal status” to each of his armed and unarmed 

opponents, but also aimed at a new power-sharing 

arrangement within the DRC. So, motivated by political 

calculations (specifically, reluctance to share power), 

Kabila successfully undermined the inclusive negotiation process by introducing minor obstacles. First, he 

instructed the closure of the president’s office to protest the assigning of a French-speaking cofacilitator. He 

then did not provide travel authorizations to delegates 

from unarmed political opposition and civil society.60

Only after he was assassinated in 2001 and replaced 

by his son Joseph Kabila did the negotiations garner 

broader societal representation. 

False Compliance 

Another common resistance tactic is controlling and 

handpicking participants for the inclusive process, 

Negotiating parties might agree to include civil society or women, but only on the condition that the 

parties themselves select which women and which civil society representatives can attend. The inclusive 

process is supported as long as it remains within the boundaries the powerholder elite draw.
USIP.ORG 21

which may sometimes be accompanied by a threat to 

terminate support for inclusion unless demands for the 

inclusive process are accommodated. False compliance 

is a type of symbolic inclusion. On the surface, it seems 

as if the powerful party agrees to and supports an inclusive negotiation process; in fact, however, it seeks to 

manipulate the process to maintain full control. Hence, 

the inclusive process remains at the whim of the powerful party’s conditional support. For instance, negotiating 

parties might agree to include civil society or women, 

but only on the condition that the parties themselves 

select which women and which civil society representatives can attend. The inclusive process is supported as 

long as it remains within the boundaries the powerholder elite draw. And although this tactic is used mostly 

by the powerholder elite, sometimes others—such as 

armed groups—use it as well. 

For example, during the DRC negotiations, Laurent 

Kabila used the false compliance tactic by advocating 

for an alternative inclusive process, namely, a newly 

created Constituent Assembly of three hundred members he had appointed. This was a symbolic inclusion 

attempt, Emeric Rogier observed, hardly compatible with 

the requirements of a broad and genuine dialogue. 

Insistence on the selection of participants, especially 

if they will participate directly in track 1 negotiations, 

can be anticipated given concerns about confidentiality and strategic information sharing with the public. 

Several leaders have dissolved inclusive commissions 

(the Central African Republic, for example) because 

their recommendations had not been favored in them; 

subsequent commission members were replaced by 

other, handpicked members. Government parties have 

also insisted on personal selection of participants for 

high-level problem-solving workshops and rejected selection based on expertise or diversity (as in Abkhazia 

during negotiations to end the conflict with Georgia). 

The motivation to control participants, these examples 

suggest, is not necessarily based on confidentiality concerns, but often aims to tighten and maintain 

political control over the process and eliminate political 

competitors in the negotiations. 

The 2011–12 national dialogue process in Egypt is a 

good example of the motivation to maintain control. 

The dialogue, initiated in the wake of pressure from 

public protests demanding political reforms, was 

officially announced as an opportunity for national 

reconciliation that would gather a wide range of political actors and civil society organizations.61 Managed 

and controlled by the Supreme Council of the Armed 

Forces (SCAF) with logistic support from the UNDP, it 

would address five major issues: democracy and human rights, social and human development, the economy, media and culture, and foreign relations. However, 

SCAF’s tight control over the design and outcome of 

this process prevented a genuine dialogue, failed to 

equip the process with any decision-making power, 

and eventually failed to have any constructive impact 

on regime transition in Egypt. For example, participant 

selection was done on a personal basis, including both 

leaders of the dialogue, Yehia El-Gamal (in March) and 

Abdel Aziz Hegazy (in May), who were appointed by 

the SCAF. Both were former members of the authoritarian regime, which many people approached skeptically. 

Reports were delivered to Hegazy, who would transfer 

the recommendations to the military. The military would 

then decide how to move forward with the report’s recommendations. Most people therefore did not believe 

that the recommendations would be taken seriously. 

Critical stakeholders within youth coalitions, the Muslim 

Brotherhood, and the Wafd, Nasserist, and Tagammu 

parties denounced the process and boycotted it on the 

grounds that it had no predefined agenda and objectives.62 The timing of the dialogue also elicited skepticism given resentment among many participants that 

constitutional amendments had been passed before 

the start of the dialogue. 

In sum, although the Egyptian regime (the military elite 

in particular) reluctantly agreed to set up an inclusive 

national dialogue to secure much-needed public 
22 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

legitimacy and end collective upheaval against the regime, the attitude of the powerholder elite throughout 

the process was no more than false compliance. The 

inclusive process aimed at strategic gains but fell short 

of meeting the fundamental needs of the excluded social groups and providing a fair and inclusive process 

toward a peaceful transition. 

Foot Dragging

Foot dragging is another tactic that resembles support for an inclusive process, but in fact is yet another 

form of disguised resistance. It may involve a variety of 

micro-behaviors such as delaying, neglecting, or finding 

various excuses for not implementing agreed-upon 

steps for inclusion. Foot dragging tactics often occur 

after an agreement to initiate an inclusive process, and 

ironically often by the same actor who had agreed to the 

inclusive mechanism but later prevented it during implementation and realization of commitments. Other times, 

foot dragging occurs because of dispersion of authority 

or diffusion of responsibility across different government 

departments, or because of competing or divergent 

bureaucratic interests. For instance, despite possible 

support for an inclusive process at the national government level, some of these decisions may be delayed or 

not implemented at the local government level. 

An example of foot dragging is the negotiations in 

Aceh between the Acehnese armed group GAM (mentioned earlier) and the government of Indonesia. In 

mid-2001, the Geneva-based Centre for Humanitarian 

Dialogue pushed to bring broader Acehnese perspectives into the negotiations by proposing “democratic consultations.” The government realized that 

the cease-fire agreement was unraveling in large part 

because it did not address GAM’s political grievances. 

When GAM and the government met, they agreed to 

hold inclusive consultations with the public in Aceh. 

The attempt failed, however, when the provincial governor of Aceh, whom Jakarta had tasked with leading 

the development of public consultations, neglected to 

engage with the process.

Delaying the establishment of commissions and committees despite an agreement to do so is a common 

behavior among powerholders resisting the implementation of agreements. Failure to implement or not follow 

through on the decisions of a commission or committee has occurred in numerous peace processes. The 

Constitution Review Commission, established in 2012 

by the government of Fiji during its constitution writing 

and dialogue process, is one example. The commission planned an inclusive process with public consultations to channel the grievances of the indigenous Fijian 

and Indo-Fijian communities. The government delayed 

the consultation process by tactics such as not releasing information to the commission in a timely manner. 

As a result, the window of time for feedback from the 

public remained very short even though the consultations were eventually held, effectively excluding public 

voices from the draft. Although the government tried 

to convey the appearance of supporting consultations, 

its support was not genuine. In the end, it rejected the 

draft and wrote its own, later annulling implementation 

of the constitutional process altogether. 

Another example of government foot dragging is 

the establishment of a Truth and Reconciliation 

Commission (TRC) in Burundi. Agreed to in the 2000 

Arusha Peace and Reconciliation Agreement between 

the government and opposition parties, the TRC aimed 

to tackle crimes against humanity committed during the 

war and to promote ethnic reconciliation. Because little 

progress had been made, a 2005 UN Security Council 

resolution again called for the creation of a TRC and 

pressured the government to bring the process forward. Given the lack of meaningful support from the 

government, political parties, or regional leaders, many 

delay tactics ensued until finally, in 2014, the National 

Assembly passed a law allowing the United Nations to 

set up a “non-Judicial Truth Commission” whose eleven 

members were appointed by the National Assembly.63

However, despite the Arusha agreement’s provision 

that “the candidates for membership of the commission shall be put forward by civil society associations, 
USIP.ORG 23

political parties, religious denominations and women’s 

organizations, or may stand as individual candidates,” 

the law omitted a role for civil society organizations.64

The government subsequently diverted from and 

diluted its original mandate and procedures by gradually excluding civil society and political opposition from 

the process. It also opposed the population’s wishes 

articulated in the 2009 national consultations and as 

issued by civil society actors in 2011 through a series of 

recommendations regarding the role of civil society in 

appointing TRC members.65 In addition, the opposition 

boycotted and accused the ruling party of setting up an 

institution that was not independent. Similarly, a former 

diplomatic correspondent deemed the TRC creation 

process not transparent given the opaque discussions 

between government and parliament.

Vocal Resistance

Resistance to inclusion is also seen in speech, primarily 

by powerholder elites. Powerholders rely on speeches 

that express and justify anti-inclusion attitudes and behaviors, which then may transform into an internalized 

discourse among many in society. Two types of such 

behavior were observed in the cases studied: uttering 

a narrative that labels attempts at inclusion as a security threat (securitizing inclusion), and a public narrative 

that justifies slander, ridicule, or humiliation toward 

people and groups whose participation is not wanted. 

Securitizing inclusion means that “by labelling 

something a security issue . . . it becomes one.”66

Securitization helps the securitizing actor easily legitimize taking extraordinary measures—which may be 

difficult to do under normal political circumstances—because it activates a mental state of survival and safety 

Members of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) discuss their future in one of the zones set up to transition former rebels back to 

civilian life, near La Paz, Colombia, on February 1, 2017. (Photo by Federico Rios Escobar/New York Times)
24 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

by implying an existential threat. It helps move an issue 

from the realm of normal politics into that of security 

politics, where it can be dealt with swiftly, bypassing the 

usual rules and regulations of democratic policymaking. 

Securitizing inclusion is usually done in two ways. First, 

attempts at inclusion are labeled as an imposition on 

local actors by foreign powers that seek to divide the 

country and as a scheme to impose on its sovereignty. 

Elites take inclusion discussions in the negotiation and 

peace process outside the usual political realm and 

instead frame them as a security threat from external 

forces that needs to be repudiated to reestablish the 

nation’s security. Second, civil society is identified as 

an extension of armed groups and terrorists, and thus a 

security threat that should be kept away from negotiations. Exclusion from the negotiation or peace process 

is thereby justified as a matter of national security.

Nepal is an apt example. As discussed earlier, the 

constitution-writing process bogged down on the 

issue of federalism and how it would be implemented. 

Throughout the negotiations, the inclusion perspective 

was strongly supported by the United Nations and other 

international donor agencies. Donors were critical in the 

empowerment and capacity-building support given to 

the members of the Constituent Assembly, especially 

to subordinate and excluded groups. These training 

programs aimed to increase the access of marginalized 

groups (such as the Janajatis) to state institutions and 

societal resources by promoting their social, economic, and political inclusion. As the implementation of 

the Comprehensive Peace Accord progressed, major 

resistance from the old elite increased, especially after 

2011. They wanted an end to foreign financial support 

of marginalized groups such as the Nepal Federation 

of Indigenous Nationalities.67 These elites argued that 

Men and women take part in the National Dialogue Conference, part of the broader Yemeni peace process, in Sana'a, on March 20, 2013. (Photo by 

Hani Mohammed/AP)
USIP.ORG 25

inclusion was an imposed foreign agenda and that 

sticking to it constituted an existential threat to the sovereignty of the nation. They succeeded in depicting the 

changes sought by the Maoists and ethnic minorities—

such as secularism, federalism, and equitable sharing of 

resources—as threatening security and stability in the 

country. They criticized, for example, quotas for diverse 

ethnic groups as actions legitimizing inequality and 

unfairness in society. They also continued to resist other 

commitments made in the CPA on federalism and secularism during the implementation phase on the grounds 

of threatening national security. This discourse went so 

far as to implicate foreign donors in instigating violence 

in Nepal, which eventually resulted in the withdrawal of 

some of the Western donors. Securitizing the inclusion 

agenda as a national security threat made it easier to 

justify the capture of the decision-making process and 

unilateral drafting of a constitution without the participation of marginalized and excluded groups. The crisis 

that the country went into after the earthquakes helped 

this discourse take hold in society, reinforcing the idea 

that swift action had to be taken to resecure the country 

from “disunity and threat of dissolution.”68

Ridicule, slander, and humiliation are other forms 

of speech used to resist the participation of certain 

groups. A typical example is labeling members of such 

groups as “incapable,” “lacking skills and expertise,” 

or “lacking political relevance.” Such narratives have 

often been used to justify the exclusion of women from 

the negotiation table, often including humiliation and 

ridiculing language.

In an interview with one of the women delegates to the 

negotiations in Northern Ireland, it was mentioned that 

such humiliating words were used against them during 

the Good Friday negotiations. Women delegates and 

the issues they raised in the negotiations concerning 

socioeconomic development and social justice were 

denigrated as irrelevant. In return, the Northern Ireland 

Women’s Coalition made sure to prepare position papers and contribute to the negotiations on every issue, 

not just the socioeconomic development and justice 

agenda. One of the women delegates was verbally 

attacked by a member of a political party, who told her 

to go home and have babies. In response, the woman 

delegate stood up and sang the song “Stand by Your 

Man.” Some of the same party members even pushed 

women delegates in the corridor and ridiculed them on 

the basis of their gender.69

Speech emphasizing lack of adequacy is commonly 

used against civilian actors, especially by the powerholder elite. For instance, political party leaders used 

such rhetoric in Burundi to justify the exclusion of civil society representatives from the peace negotiations. Civil 

society was labeled as “too disorganized” and “young 

and inexperienced” by the leaders of the political parties 

attending the negotiations to resist their inclusion. 

COERCIVE TACTICS

Resistance is also expressed aggressively and violently. Such behavior includes physical violence, the threat 

of violence, vandalism against targets, confiscation 

of property, detention, and depriving people of their 

livelihood by creating economic hardship. The threat of 

violence targeting the participants of inclusive processes was observed in twenty-two of the eighty-five 

incidents of resistance (26 percent), compared to sixty-three incidents in the category of explicit or manipulative resistance (74 percent). Although not as common 

as explicit or manipulative tactics, examples of physical 

violence against inclusion attempts are numerous, such 

as in Fiji, Guatemala, Kyrgyzstan, Macedonia, Mexico, 

Sri Lanka, Togo, and Yemen. 

For example, violence was directed against the women 

participants in the National Dialogue Conference held 

in Yemen in 2013 and 2014. Many women delegates of 

the conference were threatened for participating and 

endured attacks ranging from harassment to sexual assault. This included an online defamation and shaming 

campaign against women candidates, calling them dishonorable for attending the dialogue meetings alone.
26 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

Tackling Resistance

Tackling resistance to inclusion requires a nuanced approach. Findings indicate different types of resistance 

in regard to motivation, actors, and tactics. 

OVERCOMING POLITICALLY 

MOTIVATED RESISTANCE

As discussed, one form of resistance is motivated 

primarily by political competition, economic self-interest, or reluctance to share power, as in the Democratic 

Republic of the Congo. An identity threat component, 

in which the dominant group perceives inclusion as an 

existential threat, is also possible. The existential threat 

is more deep-rooted, having a long-standing ideology and culture that legitimizes the hierarchical and 

exclusive structure of the system. Political motivation 

is prevalent among powerholder elites. The identity 

threat involves the dominant social group as well as 

the powerholder elite and political leadership representing the same group, as in Kyrgyzstan, Fiji, Nepal, 

and Guatemala. Different types clearly require different 

measures and remedies. 

For political motivation, incentive structures that make 

inclusive processes more amenable to powerholders may be enough. Rewards that the leadership or 

political-economic elite expect for engaging in a peace 

process can be provided and conditioned on implementation of measures toward inclusive institutions 

and society. Inclusion indicators can be identified in 

the beginning of a process and compliance with them 

can be incorporated into the peace process architecture; milestones could be integrated into implementation monitoring. For example, inclusion procedures 

set up during the negotiations—such as the rules for 

decision making in smaller groups, how small group 

discussions are transferred to larger discussions or 

public consultations and to track 1 negotiations and so 

on—could be monitored by impartial third parties. An 

inclusion compliance ombudsman could be assigned 

to a peace process to advise on these steps.

Most resistance by powerholders is disguised, especially manipulation of decision-making processes within 

a peace process. Thus decision-making rules and 

procedures, including transfer mechanisms, need to be 

inclusive to better minimize hijacking or foot dragging.70

Incentives and institutional pressure may deter those 

who intend to hijack or manipulate the process. The 

following precautions can be considered as part of the 

peace process architecture to this end. 

The presence of third-party facilitators and mediators 

in these processes, especially if they are trained to 

be aware of such manipulative tactics, may be critical 

to monitoring the decision-making process for better 

compliance with inclusion goals.

Whether the results of the inclusive process are treated 

as binding or nonbinding affects the outcome in regard 

to the likelihood of recommendations from the process 

being incorporated into elite decision making.71 If the 

peace architecture treats the outcomes as nonbinding, 

as suggestions or informal feedback, they are less 

likely to be taken into consideration by negotiators and 

decision makers, especially if no transfer mechanism 

has been established. 

Especially in inclusive bodies with a nonbinding mandate, if the peace architecture does not have a carefully 

planned transfer mechanism for the outcomes of the 

inclusive process to reach decision-making bodies, 

those outcomes may be dismissed or sidelined more 
USIP.ORG 27

easily by powerholders, or not received at all. Effective 

mechanisms should be set up to ensure that results from 

the inclusive process reach negotiators efficiently.72

Decision-making procedures and rules for the inclusive 

negotiation process, such as a national dialogue or an 

inclusive constitutional drafting commission, should 

strive to avoid the potential for deadlock. Deadlocks 

are often used as an excuse by powerholders to hijack 

the decision-making process and impose their unilateral and noninclusive agenda. Certain decision-making 

settings are more likely to generate deadlocks, such 

as unanimity rule or veto in highly polarized political 

and social settings. Practitioners designing inclusive 

processes should reflect on the degree of polarization 

and division within the deciding group and society. 

Monitoring and enforcement are already integral to the 

peace architecture, but monitoring should not be just 

about the implementation of usual peace agreement 

provisions, such as disarmament activities. Mechanisms 

could also be set up to monitor and safeguard compliance with inclusion indicators and activities. As mentioned, an ombudsman could be assigned to advise the 

members of inclusive commissions, national dialogues, 

constitution drafting bodies, or mediators to facilitate 

compliance with inclusion standards and procedures. 

Compliance and enforcement mechanisms could also 

specify the consequences for violating indicators. 

OVERCOMING IDENTITY THREAT RESISTANCE

Identity threat resistance requires a more sustained 

and difficult effort to overcome. It requires not only 

institutional incentives, careful design of decision-making processes, and effective compliance measures, but 

also a long-term strategy that targets ideological and 

cultural change. In these places, ideological narratives 

that legitimize strict social hierarchy, domination of 

one subgroup over the other, and unequal access to 

resources need to be transformed with systemic efforts 

(which in some cases are part of the transformative 

elements within a peace process). A number of strategies are possible, depending again on the timing of 

resistance, the actors, and the tactics involved. 

Extensive use of manipulative tactics such as foot 

dragging and false compliance hindered successful 

transformation in all cases discussed here. In fact, 

such efforts create more obstacles for durable peace 

in the long run by diluting trust and legitimacy, as in 

Egypt and Nepal. The unfulfilled expectations of social 

groups in regard to achieving a sense of belonging 

(raised because they had initially been included in the 

process) could lead to perceived relative deprivation 

and result in violent collective action. This was the case 

in the Madhesi uprisings in Nepal after the inclusive 

constitution-making process failed. If inclusive processes are planned and designed as part of a peace 

process, they should strive to achieve a genuine inclusion of historically excluded groups. Further research 

is needed on how inclusion mechanisms can be set 

up in practice that adequately fulfill the need for both 

belongingness and distinctiveness. 

The level of intervention to address resistance to 

inclusion, whether individual or intergroup, should be 

clearly spelled out following a theory of change applicable to that level. For example, changing an individual’s 

exclusion behavior resulting from implicit bias requires 

a different approach than dealing with pervasive and 

systemic resistance. The first can benefit from training 

that raises the individual decision maker's awareness 

about implicit bias and from various other established 

methods that focus on attitudinal and behavioral 

change. The second type, however, may be overcome 

only through civil resistance or change in ideological 

If the peace architecture does not have a carefully planned transfer mechanism for the outcomes of the 

inclusive process to reach decision-making bodies, those outcomes may be dismissed or sidelined more 

easily by powerholders, or not received at all.
28 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

narratives. Group-based attitudes will resist inclusion of 

subordinate groups as long as the dominant group’s ideology persists.73 In other words, without a change in the 

ideological narrative, a society cannot be transformed 

into an inclusive one. Research focusing on attitude 

change indicates that unless larger group norms support 

equality between groups, training that targets bias at 

the individual level will not engender sustainable results 

and systemic change.74 The following tools are useful to 

consider in this regard but require additional conceptual 

development and research. 

At the individual and group levels, reducing individual 

bias and intergroup prejudice was a central concern of 

scholars who developed dialogue and problem-solving 

methodologies in the conflict resolution field. Most of 

these approaches relied on social-psychological theories 

on reducing prejudice and inducing positive attitudinal 

change. These methods relied in turn on a variety of 

methodologies and interventions, such as generating 

complex and non–zero sum thinking about the out-group, 

generating affective (emotional) ties (empathy) with 

the out-group members, and generating complex and 

reflective thinking about the in-group to reduce in-group 

favoritism and any sense of moral superiority over other 

groups. They are therefore expected to lead to a “less 

provincial” and “ethnocentric” view of the out-group.

At the ideological and cultural level, tackling resistance 

to inclusion requires a different approach. One theory explaining ideological and cultural change comes 

from complex systems theory and cognitive science.75

Ideology is defined as a complex system of beliefs that 

can be the source of resistance to social change; at the 

same time, however, the system can flip and change 

rapidly. Cognitive-affective mapping, an individual-level tool that can be aggregated to an intergroup level, 

can be used to map belief systems (both favoring and 

opposing inclusion) constituting a complex system of 

ideology. Analysis of such a map can identify attractors in the system that sustain ideological continuation 

and explore possible entries to create tipping points 

in the system. From a complex systems perspective, 

it becomes possible to assess whether the system is 

geared more toward pro-exclusion belief systems in 

the beginning of a peace process and whether any 

change occurs and perhaps flips in favor of a pro-inclusion belief system later in the process. Points of resistance to ideological change can also be identified. 

At the societal level, a third theory of change involves 

civil resistance or nonviolent action. The failure of the 

inclusive peace process sometimes generates collective unrest and action. In both Nepal and Guatemala, 

the peace process opened a space for the inclusion 

of historically excluded groups. Yet this space began 

to close up during the implementation of the peace 

agreement in the face of resistance from the powerholder elite. Resistance by the elite triggered a counterresistance in the form of mass action. In Nepal, the 

Madhesi uprisings were not civil resistance because 

they involved violence. Eventually, as other groups 

that had previously challenged the exclusive nature 

of the system (such as the Maoists) stopped doing 

so, the Madhesis became isolated in the uprising. In 

Guatemala, the indigenous Mayan population was 

more successful, allying with nonindigenous people 

(the urban middle-class in particular) to push for a 

counterreform agenda to overcome elite resistance. In 

sum, not all collective action is disciplined civil resistance; it can be in the form of reactionary protests that 

in turn may also result in street radicalism and violence. 

It is critical to look into the conditions under which civil 

resistance successfully and nonviolently overcomes 

systemic and pervasive resistance to inclusion.
USIP.ORG 29

Notes

1. United Nations, “UN Guidance on Effective Mediation,” September 2012, 11, https://peacemaker.un.org/sites/peacemaker.un.org

/files/GuidanceEffectiveMediation_UNDPA2012%28english%29_0.pdf. 

2. Thania Paffenholz, “Civil Society Inclusion: Beyond the Inclusion-Exclusion Dichotomy,” Negotiation Journal 30, no 1 (2014): 69–

91; and Christine Bell and Jan Pospisil, “Navigating Inclusion in Transitions from Conflict: The Formalised Political Unsettlement,” 

Journal of International Development 29, no. 5 (August 2017): 576–593. 

3. Véronique Dudouet, Stina Lundström, and David Rampf, “Post-War Political Settlements: From Participatory Transition Processes 

to Inclusive State-Building and Governance,” Berghof Foundation, December 2016, 9–10, www.berghof-foundation.org/fileadmin

/redaktion/Publications/Papers/IPS_Synthesis_Report_web.pdf. 

4. See, for example, United Nations and World Bank, Pathways for Peace: Inclusive Approaches to Preventing Violent Conflict

(Washington, DC: World Bank, 2018), https://openknowledge.worldbank.org/handle/10986/28337. 

5. Daron Acemoglu and James Robinson, “The Emergence of Weak, Despotic and Inclusive States,” NBER working paper no. 

23657, National Bureau of Economic Research, August 2017, www.nber.org/papers/w23657. 

6. The term peace process is used to refer to the longer lasting broader process encompassing not only the negotiations, but also 

pre-negotiation and implementation phases. Resistance to inclusion can emerge in any of these stages in a peace process, not 

just around the negotiations.

7. For more information, see Association for Inclusive Peace, “Map of Inclusive Peace Processes,” www.inclusivepeace.org/content

/map-inclusive-peace-processes. 

8. See, for instance, Catherine Barnes, “Owning the Process: Public Participation in Peacemaking,” Accord 13 (2002); Sanam 

Naraghi Anderlini, “Peace Negotiations and Agreements,” in Inclusive Security, Sustainable Peace: A Toolkit for Advocacy and 

Action (London: International Alert and Women Waging Peace, 2004); and Michelle Page, Tobie Whitman, and Cecilia Anderson, 

“Strategies for Policymakers: Bringing Women into Peace Negotiations,” Institute for Inclusive Security, October 2009, 

 www.inclusivesecurity.org/publication/strategies-for-policymakers-bringing-women-into-peace-negotiations.

9. Steven Dixon et al., “Making Women Count, Not Just Counting Women: Assessing Women’s Inclusion and Influence on Peace 

Negotiations,” Inclusive Peace & Transition Initiative, April 2016, www.inclusivepeace.org/sites/default/files/IPTI-UN-Women

-Report-Making-Women-Count-60-Pages.pdf; and Marie O’Reilly, Andrea Ó Súilleabháin, and Thania Paffenholz, “Reimagining 

Peacemaking: Women’s Roles in Peace Processes,” International Peace Institute, June 2015, 6, www.ipinst.org/wp-content

/uploads/2015/06/IPI-E-pub-Reimagining-Peacemaking.pdf. See also Nanako Tamaru and Marie O’Reilly, “How Women Influence 

Constitution-Making after Conflict and Unrest,” Inclusive Security, January 2018, www.inclusivesecurity.org/wp-content/uploads

/2018/02/How-Women-Influence-Constitution-Making.pdf; and Laurel Stone, “Women Transforming Conflict: A Quantitative 

Analysis of Female Peacemaking” (unpublished paper, 2014), http://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.2485242.

10. Dixon et al., “Making Women Count”; and UN Women, “Women’s Meaningful Participation in Negotiating Peace and the 

Implementation of Peace Agreements. Report of the Expert Group Meeting,” October 2018, www.unwomen.org/en/digital-library

/publications/2018/10/egm-report-womens-meaningful-participation-in-negotiating-peace.

11. Dixon et al., “Making Women Count.” 

12. O’Reilly, Ó Súilleabháin, and Paffenholz, “Reimagining Peacemaking.” 

13. Three models have been suggested for the diffusion of international human rights norms. These are the life cycle model 

(Martha Finnemore, and Kathryn Sikkink, “International Norm Dynamics and Political Change,” International Organization 52, no. 

4 [1998]: 887–917); the spiral model (Thomas Risse-Kappen, Steve C. Ropp, and Kathryn Sikkink, The Power of Human Rights: 

International Norms and Domestic Change [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999]); and boomerang effects (Margaret 

Keck and Kathryn Sikkink, Activists Beyond Borders: Advocacy Networks in International Politics [Ithaca, NY: Cornell University 

Press, 1998]). For a discussion of the types of norms used in a peacebuilding context, see Sara Helmuller, Julia Palmiano 

Federer, and Mathias Zeller, “The Role of Norms in International Peace Mediation,” Swisspeace, April 2015, www.swisspeace.ch

/fileadmin/user_upload/Media/Publications/The_Role_of_Norms_in_International_Peace_Mediation.pdf.
30 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

14. Esra Dilek, “Reconsidering Hybridity: The Selective Use of International Norms in Turkey’s Resolution/Peace Process (2009–

2015)” (dissertation, Bilkent University, 2018).

15. Anthony Wanis-St. John and Darren Kew, “Civil Society and Peace Negotiations: Confronting Exclusion,” International 

Negotiation 13, no. 1 (2008): 11–36.

16. For a study that alerts to the negative consequences of adding more actors to the negotiation table, see David Cunningham, 

“Who Should Be at the Table? Veto Players and Peace Processes in Civil War,” Penn State Journal of Law and International 

Affairs 2, no. 1 (2013): 38–47. This is also an argument often made by government officials to make negotiations more exclusive.

17. Dudouet, Lundström, and Rampf, “Post-War Political Settlements.”

18. Desirée Nilsson, “Anchoring the Peace: Civil Society Actors in Peace Accords and Durable Peace,” International Interactions 38 

(2012): 243–66. 

19. Francisca Zanker, “Legitimate Representation: Civil Society Actors in Peace Negotiations Revisited,” International Negotiation 19, 

no. 1 (2014): 62–88. 

20. Paffenholz, “Civil Society Inclusion.” 

21. For summary findings, see Association for Inclusive Peace, “Research Project—Broadening Participation,” www.inclusivepeace

.org/content/broadening-participation. See also Esra Cuhadar and Thania Paffenholz, “What Is a Constructive Peace Process? 

Inclusion in Peace Negotiations,” in Perspectives in Waging Conflicts Constructively, ed. Bruce Dayton and Louis Kriesberg 

(Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2017). 

22. Cuhadar and Paffenholz, “What Is a Constructive Peace Process.”

23. Dudouet, Lundström, and Rampf, “Post-War Political Settlements.” 

24. An example of a backlash story in which the political elite’s reluctance for power sharing can be found in a recent conciliation 

resources and Political Settlements Research Program case study on Nepal. See Anagha Neelakantan, Alexander Ramsbotham, 

and Deepak Thapa, “Peace, Power, and Inclusive Change in Nepal,” Conciliation Resources, October 2016, www.c-r.org/accord

/peace-power-and-inclusive-change-nepal. 

25. The term symbolic inclusion, which some refer to as token participation, was first coined in comparative politics to refer to the inclusion 

of minorities in electoral politics. See Rafaela Dancygier, Dilemmas of Inclusion (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2017), 27. 

26. For more on group identification, see Marilyn Brewer, “The Psychology of Prejudice: Ingroup Love or Outgroup Hate?” Journal 

of Social Issues 55, no. 3 (1999): 429–44; and, on large group identification, Vamik Volkan, “Large Group Identity, International 

Relations, and Psychoanalysis,” International Forum of Psychoanalysis 18, no. 4 (2009): 206–13. 

27. Certain social conditions have been listed as characteristics of group dominance societies such as segregation, intergroup 

competition, group power differentials, and tokenism. For more information, see Felicia Pratto, “The Puzzle of Continuing Group 

Inequality: Piecing Together Psychological, Social, and Cultural Forces in Social Dominance Theory,” Advances in Experimental 

Social Psychology 31 (1999): 191–263.

28. One of the main premises of social-psychology on intergroup conflict is that most human societies are organized in social hierarchies. 

Several prominent theories in social psychology, such as social dominance, have dealt with the nature of group relations in socially 

hierarchical systems. See Felicia Pratto and Jim Sidanius, Social Dominance: An Intergroup Theory of Social Hierarchy and Oppression

(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999); on system justification theory, see John T. Jost, Mahzarin R. Banaji, and Brian A. Nosek, 

“A Decade of System Justification Theory: Accumulated Evidence of Conscious and Unconscious Bolstering of the Status Quo,” 

Political Psychology 25, no. 6 (2004): 881–919; and on group position theory, see Lawrence D. Bobo, “Prejudice as Group Position: 

Microfoundations of a Sociological Approach to Racism and Race Relations,” Journal of Social Issues 55, no. 3 (1999): 445–72.

29. For instance, see Roy F. Baumeister and Marc R. Leary, “The Need to Belong: Desire for Interpersonal Attachments as a 

Fundamental Human Motivation,” Psychological Bulletin 117 (1995): 497–529; and Marilyn Brewer, “The Social Self: On Being the 

Same and Different at the Same Time,” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 17 (1991): 475–82.

30. Brewer, “The Social Self.”

31. Lynn M. Shore, Amy E. Randel, Beth G. Chung, Michelle A. Dean, Karen Holcombe Ehrhart, and Gangaram Singh, “Inclusion and 

Diversity in Work Groups: A Review and Model for Future Research,” Journal of Management 37, no. 4 (2011): 1262–89. 

32. Ethan Kross, Marc G. Berman, Walter Mischel, Edward E. Smith, and Tor D. Wager, “Social Rejection Shares Somatosensory 

Representations with Physical Pain,” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 108, no. 15 (2011): 6270–75. 

33. Paul Hutchison, Dominic Abrams, and Julie Christian, “The Social Psychology of Exclusion,” in The Multidisciplinary Handbook of 

Social Exclusion Research, ed. Dominic Abrams, Julie Christian, and David Gordon (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 2007).

34. James Brownsell, “Profile: Martha Karua,” Al Jazeera, February 28, 2013, www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/2013/02

/2013222164629316425.html.
USIP.ORG 31

35. Quoted in Olga Demetriou and Maria Hadjipavlou, “The Impact of Women’s Activism on the Peace Negotiations in Cyprus,” 

Nationalism and Ethnic Politics 24, no. 1 (2018): 50–65. 

36. Demetriou and Hadjipavlou, “The Impact of Women’s Activism.”

37. Brewer, “The Psychology of Prejudice,” 435; and Jim Sidanius, “The Psychology of Group Conflict and the Dynamics of 

Oppression: a Social Dominance Perspective,” in Explorations in Political Psychology, ed. Shanto Iyengar and William McGuire 

(Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1993). 

38. Pratto and Sidanius, Social Dominance; and John Jost and Erik Thompson, “Group-Based Dominance and Opposition to 

Equality as Independent Predictors of Self-Esteem,” Journal of Experimental Social Psychology 36 (2000): 209–32. Hierarchyenhancing narrative is understood as ideology. 

39. Brewer, “The Psychology of Prejudice,” 437. 

40. Why subordinate groups accept the existing social hierarchy and submit to hierarchy-enhancing ideologies is known as system justification. Dynamics that create system justification among subordinate groups have been well documented in a number of studies 

looking into subordinate group attitudes. For more, see Jost, Banaji, and Nosek, “A Decade of System Justification Theory.” 

41. Roman Krzanic, “Civil and Uncivil Actors in the Guatemalan Peace Process,” Bulletin of Latin American Research 18, no. 1 (1999): 1–16.

42. Susanne Jonas, Of Centaurs and Doves: Guatemala’s Peace Process (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2000), 12.

43. For more information on the disruptive role of the economic elite in the Guatemalan peace process, see Esra Cuhadar, 

“Enlarging the Negotiation Table with Business Sector Actors: Who, How, and with What Effect?” International Negotiation 24, 

no. 1 (March 2019): 91–116. 

44. Personal correspondence with a Colombian negotiator, Washington, DC, June 2018. 

45. Interview with women community leaders from ANMUCIC, Washington, DC, November 2018.

46. Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies, University of Notre Dame, “Monitoring of the Gender Perspective in the 

Implementation of the Colombian Final Peace Accord,” 2018, https://kroc.nd.edu/assets/297624/181113_gender_report_final.pdf. 

47. Article 3.5 of Nepal’s Comprehensive Peace Accord included provisions on inclusion. See Shradha Ghale, “Backlash against 

inclusion,” Accord, no. 26 (March 2017): 123–4.

48. Manjushree Thapa cited in Balkrishna Mabuhang, “From Peace Settlement to Political Settlement in Nepal: State Restructuring 

and Inclusive Measures for Marginalised Groups,” IPS Paper no. 10, Berghof Foundation, April 2015, www.berghof-foundation.org

/fileadmin/redaktion/Publications/Other_Resources/IPS/IPSPaper-10-From-Peace-Settlement-to-Political-Settlement.pdf.

49. For examples of such rhetoric, see Molly Elgin-Cossart, Bruce Jones, and Jane Esberg, Pathways to Change: Baseline Study to 

Identify Theories of Change on Political Settlements and Confidence Building (UK Department for International Development, 

Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Carnegie Corporation, July 2012), 48, 49. 

50. Mabuhang, “From Peace Settlement to Political Settlement.” 

51. Manesh Shrestha, “Nepalese president in dispute over army chief,” CNN, May 4, 2005, http://edition.cnn.com/2009/WORLD

/asiapcf/05/04/nepal.army.

52. For automatic stereotypes, see Mahzarin Banaji and Curtis Hardin, “Automatic Stereotyping,” Psychological Science 7, no. 3 (1996): 136–41.

53. A growing literature on implicit bias and stereotyping is relevant to this paper. For example, see Eric Hehman, Jessica Flake, 

and Jimmy Calanchini, “Disproportionate Use of Lethal Force in Policing Is Associated with Regional Racial Biases of Residents,” 

Social Psychological and Personality Science 9, no. 4 (2017): 393–401; J. Orchard and J. Price, “County-Level Racial Prejudice 

and the Black-White Gap in Infant Health Outcomes,” Social Science and Medicine 181 (May 2017): 191–98; Jordan Axt, Charles 

Ebersole, and Brian Nosek, “The Rules of Implicit Evaluation by Race, Religion, and Age,” Psychological Science 25, no. 9 

(2014): 1804–15; Anthony Greenwald and Mahzarin Banaji, “Implicit Social Cognition: Attitudes, Self-Esteem and Stereotypes,” 

Psychological Review 102, no. 1 (1995): 4–27. As research on social dominance shows, people in positions of power coming 

from socially dominant groups in society are more likely to stereotype (Pratto and Sidanius, Social Dominance, 195–97). 

54. Irene V. Blair and Mahzarin R. Banaji, “Automatic and Controlled Processes in Stereotype Priming,” Journal of Personality and 

Social Psychology 70, no. 6 (1996): 1142–63.

55. Interview with Irene Santiago, Washington, DC, April 2018. 

56. The definition of everyday forms of resistance belongs to the anthropologist James C. Scott and his seminal Weapons of the 

Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1985). Scott used this concept to describe 

daily resistance tactics used by peasants and other subordinate groups. In his work, resistance is not attributed to dominant and 

powerful social groups; yet some of the tactics used by Scott were found quite relevant to the tactics used by resistors, including powerholders, in this research. 

57. Scott, Weapons of the Weak, 3. 
32 PEACEWORKS | NO. 159

58. I argue that this is one of the major ways resistance to inclusion differs from the spoiler notion. 

59. Shradha Ghale, “Backlash against inclusion.”

60. Emeric Rogier, “The Inter-Congolese Dialogue: A Critical Overview,” in Challenges of Peace Implementation: The UN Mission in 

the Democratic Republic of the Congo, ed. Mark Malan (Pretoria: Institute for Security Studies, 2004), 27–8. 

61. For more information on this dialogue, see Thania Paffenholz, Anne Zachariassen, and Cindy Helfer, “What Makes or Breaks 

National Dialogues?,” Inclusive Peace and Transition Initiative, October 2017, www.inclusivepeace.org/sites/default/files/IPTI

-Report-What-Makes-Breaks-National-Dialogues.pdf. 

62. “Experts, political figures criticize National Dialogue,” Daily News Egypt, April 13, 2011, www.dailynewsegypt.com/2011/04/13

/experts-political-figures-criticize-national-dialogue.

63. Ephrem Rugiririza, “Burundi Truth Commission ‘A Diversionary Tactic,’ Say Critics,” JusticeInfo, March 16, 2016, www.justiceinfo

.net/en/truth-commissions/26370-burundi-truth-commission-a-diversionary-tactic-say-critics.html.

64. Protocol 1, Chapter II, Article 8:2a of the Arusha Peace and Reconciliation Agreement for Burundi (2000), https://peaceaccords

.nd.edu/accord/arusha-peace-and-reconciliation-agreement-for-burundi. 

65. Rugiririza, “Burundi Truth Commission.”

66. This definition of securitization is adapted from Ole Wæver, who used the term and formulated the theory in international relations (“Politics, Security, Theory,” Security Dialogue 42, no. 4–5 [2011]: 465–80). 

67. Ghale, “Backlash against inclusion.” As a result of this pressure, the British government’s Department for International 

Development stopped funding the Janajati Empowerment Program.

68. Elgin-Cossart, Jones, and Esberg, Pathways to Change, 48–50. 

69. Interview with Northern Ireland Women Coalition founding member and negotiator, July 2018. 

70. The term transfer mechanisms refers to how outcomes from inclusive bodies (commissions, committees, consultations) are 

linked and transferred to decision makers and negotiators. See Esra Cuhadar and Thania Paffenholz, “Transfer 2.0: Applying the 

Concept of Transfer from Track-Two Workshops to Inclusive Peace Negotiations,” International Studies Review, June 24, 2019.

71. Thania Paffenholz and her colleagues highlight the importance of binding vs nonbinding rules in the context of national dialogues (see Paffenholz, Zachariassen, and Helfer, What Makes or Breaks). 

72. See Cuhadar and Paffenholz, “Transfer 2.0.” 

73. Ideology is used in the same sense here as in social dominance theory (Pratto and Sidanius, Social Dominance, 45). It is described 

as “hierarchy legitimizing myths, which consist of attitudes, values, and beliefs, that provide moral and intellectual justification for the 

social practices that distribute social value within the system.” A similar definition for ideology is offered by the Ideological Conflict 

Project as follows: “systems of socially shared ideas, beliefs, and values used to understand, justify, or challenge a particular political, 

economic, or social order.” See Tad Homer-Dixon et al., “A Complex Systems Approach to the Study of Ideology: Cognitive-Affective 

Structures and the Dynamics of Belief Systems,” Journal of Social and Political Psychology 1, no 1 (2013): 337–63. 

74. On sustainability of individual attitude change in an ongoing conflict environment, see Maya De Vries and Ifat Maoz, “Tracking 

for Peace: Assessing the Effectiveness of Track Two Diplomacy in the Israeli–Palestinian Conflict,” Dynamics of Asymmetric 

Conflict 6, no. 1–3 (2013): 62–74; and Yigal Rosen, “Long-Term Effects of Peace Education Programs in the Context of Intractable 

Conflict” (paper presented at European Conference for Research on Learning and Instruction, Budapest, August 28, 2007). 

75. For more information, see the Ideological Conflict Project housed at the University of Waterloo, Canada, which applies systems 

thinking to ideological conflicts (www.ideologicalconflict.org). 
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Making Peace Possible

NO. 159 | March 2020

In the peacebuilding field, inclusion—of women, civil society, youth, indigenous communities, 

the internally displaced, diasporas, refugees—has become a buzzword, yet despite United 

Nations guidelines a single definition remains elusive. On the one hand, inclusion is correlated positively with durability of peace processes. On the other, resistance to it is widespread 

and persistent. At the heart of both inclusion and exclusion is how we organize ourselves 

socially, which speaks directly to inclusivity as a fundamental human need. This perspective 

is crucial to understanding resistance and why it is so widespread and to addressing it 

effectively. Tackling resistance requires a nuanced approach, as this report reveals, that 

takes motivation, actors, and tactics into account.

OTHER USIP PUBLICATIONS

• The “Green Diamond”: Coffee and Conflict in the Central African Republic by 

Fiona Mangan, Igor Acko, and Manal Taha (Special Report, February 2020)

• Rethinking Transnational Terrorism: An Integrated Approach by Martha 

Crenshaw (Peaceworks, February 2020)

• The Intersection of Investment and Conflict in Myanmar by Priscilla Clapp 

(Special Report, February 2020)

• A Peace Regime for the Korean Peninsula by Frank Aum, Jacob Stokes, Patricia 

M. Kim, Atman M. Trivedi, Rachel Vandenbrink, Jennifer Staats, and Joseph Y. 

Yun (Peaceworks, February 2020)

• Afghan Women’s Views on Violent Extremism and Aspirations to a 

Peacemaking Role by Haseeb Humayoon and Mustafa Basij-Rasikh 

(Peaceworks, February 2020)