INTERGENERATIONAL CONFLICT IN AFRICA AND SIERRA LEONE

The literature on Africa has seen a surge of studies on youth analysing their ambiguous roles as ‘vanguard or vandals’, ‘makers or breakers’ in society (see Abbink & van Kessel Reference Abbink, Abbink and van Kessel2005; Bay & Donham Reference Bay and Donham2006; Christiansen et al. Reference Christiansen, Utas and Vigh2006a; Honwana & de Boeck Reference Honwana2005; Kagwanja Reference Kagwanja2005; O'Brien Reference O'Brien, Werbner and Ranger1996; Rosen Reference Rosen2005). Youth as a socially situated and culturally constructed category emerges in relation to other socio-generational groups, such as children, adults and elders. Calling somebody a youth positions him or her in terms of a ‘variety of social attributes, including not only age but also independence–dependence, authority, rights, abilities, knowledge, responsibilities and so on’ (Durham Reference Durham2004: 593) vis-à-vis these other groups. Generational categories are thus part of a struggle for influence and authority in almost every society.

Over recent decades, youth has become a position of social and political immaturity, marginality and liminality in the global south. Unable to meet ritual and social obligations needed to set up an independent household or create a space of patronage to enter adulthood, youth find themselves in a ‘social moratorium’ (Vigh Reference Vigh and 2006: 37). As patrons, powerful elders, on the other hand, control access to land, wealth, social status and even women (Fortes Reference Fortes, Kertzer and Kieth1984; Meillassoux Reference Meillassoux1981; van de Walle Reference van de Walle2001). When resource scarcity is compounded by rapid demographic expansion, patrimonial networks tighten and non-insiders are excluded with few alternative routes to advancement (Abbink Reference Abbink, Abbink and van Kessel2005; Bangura Reference Bangura1997; Eisenstadt Reference Eisenstadt1973; Richards Reference Richards1996). Thus, those in control become a smaller, ever older group, while those waiting to gain status grow in number as well as with respect to age.

A generational contract ties several generations vertically and horizontally to each other through material and non-material exchanges taking place over the life course. Most often this refers to the raising of dependent children and support for their education in return for nursing care in old age. Drawing on the notion of intergenerational solidarity anchored in intra-family support, these contracts are based on intertemporal reciprocity (Reynolds Whyte et al. Reference Reynolds Whyte, Alber and van der Geest2008: 6). The presence of the welfare state raises the generational contract to societal level by introducing tax- and contribution-based systems of social security. Generational contracts, therefore, function at private and public as well as micro and macro levels. Moreover, exchanges are anchored to different degrees in culturally and historically distinct customary norms and moral obligations, as well as legal regulations. Thus, while intergenerational solidarity is a global phenomenon, societies differ in the form and extent of their generational contract (Alber et al. Reference Alber and Whyte2008; Izuhara Reference Izuhara2002; Walker Reference Walker1996).

Few African countries provide welfare systems like the model European welfare state.Footnote ⁴ Indeed, many African states struggle to provide even a range of basic public goods. Thus, welfare provisioning not only disproportionately falls on the extended family (Aboderin Reference Aboderin2004), but vital services like infrastructure construction and maintenance, and physical and food security, are negotiated at the community level. In many communities the division of labour regarding these responsibilities is organised along generational (and gender) lines. While Western societies feature fuzzier boundaries between age groups, in many African societies a system of fixed, mutually exclusive age categories exists. Generational order relies on a hierarchical system of age groups, delineated by clear ritual boundaries and specific social roles and responsibilities (Stewart Reference Stewart1977). Generally, these systems are marked by a disproportionate male, gerontocratic element (Abbink Reference Abbink, Abbink and van Kessel2005: 5).

Central to the argument of this paper is the insight that social relations between generations are contested and negotiated over time. Moreover, ‘the fluidity of social relations occurs within the parameters of local economic and political power’ (MacLean Reference MacLean2004: 471), which in turn are shaped by structural political and economic factors at the macro level. Aboderin (Reference Aboderin2004) shows how Ghana's political economy serves as a structural framework within which decisions on reciprocity and resource allocation between generations are made. This paper acknowledges the importance of socio-economic constraints and opportunities in shaping the agency of individuals and groups. I argue that within these constraints – foremost weak state capacity, high unemployment and poverty – confrontation may take place along generational lines, requiring a closer understanding of the dynamics of socio-generational groups. These interactions, rather than the influencing structural factors, are the focus of this paper.

Generational tensions are more likely to occur in situations where a disproportionate imbalance of power and resources exists between generations, straining solidarity and minimising reciprocity. In many African countries, rapid political, social and economic modernisation, resulting in the tightening of patrimonial networks, has caused paths of generational turnover to collapse. ‘With older people hold[ing] on tightly to their jobs and not groom[ing] and prepar[ing] younger ones for turn-over [a socially blocked generation] see[s] older people as obstacles [while] old people see younger ones as a threat’, a Sierra Leonean parliamentarian (2009 int.) observed. In this sense, many Africans in their thirties and even forties sociologically resemble biologically younger people as their entry into adulthood is perpetually delayed. In Burkina Faso, Claudia Roth (Reference Roth2008) observes an ‘inversion’ of the intergenerational contract as adult children fail to establish independent households, continuing to depend on their family when they should be developing the resources with which to support their elderly parents. This inability of large numbers of African youth to achieve the social status of an adult, let alone elder, and thereby take a well-defined place in society, causes frustration and conflict (Abbink Reference Abbink, Abbink and van Kessel2005; Hardin Reference Hardin1993; Peters & Richards Reference Peters and Richards1998; Richards Reference Richards1996).Footnote ⁵ In several countries, generational conflict, tied to social stagnation and a lack of future prospects, has led to the massive recruitment and involvement of youths in armed movements. Violence then reflects an element of revenge, as fighters claim to take back what they consider as having been monopolised by the older generation (Abbink Reference Abbink, Abbink and van Kessel2005: 16; Comaroff & Comaroff Reference Comaroff and Comaroff1999: 289; Keen Reference Keen2005: 68).

Sierra Leone provides an extreme but insightful example as intergenerational conflict played an important role in its decade-long, extremely brutal civil war. The collapse of the neo-patrimonial system pitted an elderly minority against the bulk of marginalised youth in two ways. First, at community level an autocratic gerontocracy, led by chiefs and elders and tied to an exploitative labour system and rigid marriage laws, barred an increasingly large proportion of young men from vertical mobility, rendering them unable to acquire the position of an adult or elder within the community (Chauveau & Richards Reference Chauveau and Richards2008; Keen Reference Keen2005; Peters Reference Peters2011; Richards Reference Richards1996, Reference Richards2005). Second, breaking its patrimonial promises, the state abandoned its population more generally and youth in particular by failing to provide even the most basic public goods, including education and security (Clapham Reference Clapham2001; Keen Reference Keen2005; Peters Reference Peters2011: 9; Reno Reference Reno1995). Disaffection of urban ‘lumpen youth’ (Abdullah Reference Abdullah1997) coincided with a ‘crisis of rural youth’ (Peters Reference Peters2011) as exclusion from education, employment, and positions of influence created widespread anger among youth unable to advance, or fulfil a meaningful role in society.Footnote ⁶ The crisis of blocked generational turnover was reflected in the patterns of violence during the war. With the bulk of fighters recruited from marginalised rural youth (Humphreys & Weinstein Reference Humphreys and Weinstein2004; Peters Reference Peters2011), the war involved the direct and immediate transfer of power from the ‘haves’ to the ‘have-nots’ and from the old to the young, turning previous roles on their head (Keen Reference Keen2005: 68; Peters Reference Peters2011: 88). In many cases, violence was directed against figures of authority in general and chiefs in particular (Archibald & Richards Reference Archibald and Richards2002; TRC 2004).Footnote ⁷

THE BASICS OF INTERGENERATIONAL RELATIONS

A central finding of this study is that the overwhelming majority of respondents agree about the basic division of labour and roles within local communities. The general understanding is that ‘young people are the work force. They have the potential to develop their community … It's the young people who undertake economic activities’ (Youth leader (j) 2009 int.). Youth are the ‘dynamos of community’ (Youth leader (x) 2010 int.) and the ‘human resource man power’ (Youth leader (m) 2009 int.), rendering important services not only to their families but to the community as a whole as they ‘do the physical work when it comes to communal labour’ (Paramount chief (a) 2009 int.). Communal labour is an essential part of community life in Sierra Leone. It encompasses regular and seasonal activities like the monthly cleaning of the town/village, ‘brushing’ (clearing overgrown paths) and clearing the bush for community farming, as well as infrastructure undertakings such as the maintenance and construction of roads, bridges and community buildings. It is thus part of the generational contract, in which youth provide their physical strength to the benefit of the community as a whole.Footnote ⁸ Asked about the role young people have in the community, 63% of adult respondents pointed to community labour and, more importantly, 68% of youth respondents agreed with this, thus accepting this part of customary obligation. Adults and elders, on the other hand, ‘make decisions at their homes for the family … They also find themselves in various committees, decision-making bodies in the chiefdom. They are also found in the local courts for the dispensation of justice amongst local people’ (Paramount chief (a) 2009 int.). As part of the generational contract, they ‘direct and advise the young people’ (Bike Rider Association (c) executive 2009 int.). Moreover, ‘they assist youth in terms of education, farming, mining and skills training’ (SpeakerFootnote ⁹ (c) 2009 int.); ‘[… they] are always with them to supervise and teach them how to go about it’ (Speaker (d) 2009 int.). A youth leader aptly summarised: ‘The youths are energetic and the adults are experienced’ (Youth leader (u) 2009 int.). This agreement on the part of youth and adults/elders is remarkable in itself. However, it presents an ‘ideal type’ of social relations. Frictions and tensions, as these occur when social relations are contested and negotiated on a daily basis, are discussed below.

Intergenerational exchanges take place consecutively over the life course, with adults supporting dependent children's education and livelihood until they have established a household of their own and, more generally, dispensing their knowledge and experience to the younger generations. In turn, youth provide vital public goods at the community level and take care of elders in their family in old age. Indeed people consciously refer to mutual exchanges over the life course. Asked why they send their children to school, 55% of respondents listed provision in old age as a reason. Sixteen per cent of this group declared this to be their sole motivation, referring to the exchange as ‘payback time’ (Adult (78) 2009 int.).Footnote ¹⁰

Generational turnover takes place when youth graduate into adulthood, taking over responsibilities in the family and community. Elders described this process as naturally taking place over time: ‘Firstly, by our tradition if you are married we class you as an adult and you will have to pay local tax … And also if you can do farming as head of a family you are considered an adult. Secondly, by allowing you to be part of decision-making bodies in the community …’ (Town chief (b) 2009 int.).Footnote ¹¹ An important part of youth's ‘maturing’ lies not only in learning by doing and gaining more formal responsibilities but, more importantly, by ‘being close’ to elders, ‘listening’, ‘watching’ and ‘taking advice’ (interviews with elders not individually cited: Kailahun, Pujehun, Kono, Makeni 2009; Magburaka 2010).

It is important to emphasise that social promotion is not solely and automatically tied to age. As Murphy (Reference Murphy1980: 202) observed for Liberia, ‘while young men do become old men, not all old men become elders’. Age interacts with status, which in turn is tied to access to material resources and social and political connections. Failure to gain status leaves 40-year-olds labelled as youths, while many adults never acquire the position of an elder. Conversely, those connected to families with high status tend to progress faster socially, becoming an adult/elder at relatively young age. Thus, it is important to keep in mind that considerable heterogeneity exists within generations and age groups regarding status, power and wealth (Archibald & Richards Reference Archibald and Richards2002: 345 n.3).

Despite the fundamental agreement on a basic intergenerational division of labour and roles, several tensions regarding role perception and processes of generational turnover exist and are unsolved. These are rooted in unbalanced power relations discriminating against youth. Youth envision not only a quantitative shift of power but a qualitative change in intergenerational relations. While complaints were not made about the division of labour within communities as such, management of these responsibilities is contested. As noted above, youth accept their role as the main provider of community labour. However, who calls for labour, which projects labour is used for and how it is organised matter in whether it is perceived as a legitimate or exacted exercise. Youth demand a say in the responsibilities which are expected from them and in the community in which they have a stake. This includes not only regular consultation in community matters but permanent representation in decision-making bodies. Moreover, while many youths contend that it is the wealth of experience and knowledge that make older people more suitable for leadership positions in the community, they disagree with the process of learning and generational turnover envisioned by elders. ‘It is accepted here that the older people know everything. So it is difficult to come down to learn from the young’, a youth leader ((h) 2009 int.) complains. To the frustration of youth, learning is seen by elders largely as a one-way process flowing from elders to youth, the only exception being youth's proficiency in handling new technologies (interviews with elders not individually cited: Kailahun, Makeni 2009; Magburaka 2010; Christiansen et al. Reference Christiansen, Utas and Vigh2006b: 20). Moreover, the idea of handing over substantial power while still alive is difficult to accept for many. ‘This is our custom and tradition that the elders should rule. It is very difficult for any chief to allow his son to rule as chief when the father is alive’ (Town chief (b) 2009 int.). Youth then object to taking a passive learning role, but demand active involvement including the right to speak up, contradict elders, and present their own ideas and preferences. Rather than taking over after elders die, youth voiced a preference for taking on responsibilities together with elders. This more egalitarian and participatory vision of community governance is viewed sceptically by elders, who equate criticism and objections raised by youth with ‘disrespect’: ‘The youth we have here now have no respect for elders and they challenge the authorities in administration’ (Speaker (d) 2009 int.).

YOUTH REPRESENTATION AND ORGANISATION: STEPPING STONES TO YOUTH EMPOWERMENT?

Alarmed by research placing youth at the centre of Sierra Leone's civil war (Peters & Richards Reference Peters and Richards1998; Richards Reference Richards1996), donors and NGOs have focused their post-conflict interventions on youth policy. A comprehensive disarmament, demobilisation and reintegration programme was implemented after the war to integrate approximately 75,000 fighters, most of whom were well below twenty-five (Humphreys & Weinstein Reference Humphreys and Weinstein2004: 14; Peters Reference Peters2011: 166). Following this, countless initiatives have aimed at integrating youth into the economy and political system to provide stability. These campaigns have established a discourse on youth empowerment and opened a potential path to resources, making youth an ‘aid taker category’ (Christiansen et al. Reference Christiansen, Utas and Vigh2006b: 17). Thus, an industry of youth organisations has sprung up competing for project funding; a 2004 survey found 139 registered youth groups in rural Kono District alone (ibid.). Similarly, the study at hand recorded forty-two youth groups in Calaba Town, a Freetown suburb. These groups address a myriad of issues ranging from sports events to waste management, human rights campaigns to the provision of community latrines, skills training to anti-violence initiatives. They differ widely in their levels of organisation, capacity, efficiency, and financial and human resources (Fanthorpe & Maconachie Reference Fanthorpe and Maconachie2010). Their common denominator is their claim to integrate and support youth as part of the wider peacebuilding and development agenda for the country. Youth organisations straddle private and public aims by addressing individual livelihoods as well as youth representation in local governance bodies and public goods provision. In both domains, youth strive to improve their socio-economic situation as a group as well as strengthen their societal status relative to older generations.

Advancing from youth to adulthood crucially depends on economic independence, especially the ability to pay a bride price and set up an independent household (Vigh Reference Vigh and 2006). To foster economic autonomy and counter the dearth of employment options, most youth organisations address the issue of livelihoods through some form of training, employment provision or agricultural activity. An instructive and prominent example is the motorbike taxi business, which provides transportation in almost all towns and villages, employing tens of thousands of youths throughout urban and rural Sierra Leone (Fithen & Richards Reference Fithen, Richards and Richards2005: 134–5). The executive of the Bike Rider Association (BRA) in Kono (2009 int.) summarised the economic impact of their organisation in a self-confident way:

Importantly, bike riding is a non-agrarian livelihood option removing youths from the influence of elders who control land.Footnote ¹² Moreover, BRAs representing and organising bikers in every town were established from the grass-roots without external/NGO support (Peters pers. comm.). In Kailahun town the bikers are organised around an elected executive with a financial system of savings and reinvestment to purchase and repair bikes and, thus, guarantee maximum independence from patrons. The group trains new riders and has an agreement with the police that licensing costs can be made in instalments. Interestingly, the group has diversified into other activities, running a restaurant and growing cassava for the market. These activities are led by the wives of the bike riders, providing the families with comparatively secure and comfortable incomes (BRA (a) executive 2009 int.). Offshoots of this business are bike washes and garages where other youth provide services to the bike riders (interviews with bike riders and youth organisations: Freetown 2007, 2009; Kailahun 2009).

Beyond economic empowerment, youth organisations are crucial in unifying and representing youth as a social group in the community. They negotiate youth's status in three important ways: mediation, community service provision, and representation. On a day-to-day basis, youth leaders often take the position of mediators within the community as ‘youth can encourage each other better than if it is done by elders’ (Youth (A) 2007; see also Peters Reference Peters2006: 141). They arbitrate quarrels among youths, negotiate a resolution to minor crimes, such as petty theft, and mediate community tensions in an informal manner (Youth organisation (C) 2007 int.). ‘When the community wants to complain, they come to me and complain to me … They tell me of abusive language or provocation. I am a member of the Community Policing Board. We deal with such things like the use of insulting language [and petty theft], whereas only stabbing incidents or worse are dealt with by the public police’ (Youth organisation (B) 2007 int.). The executives of another youth organisation add:

More generally youth leaders see it as their task to ‘organise the youth not to be violent’ (Youth leader (h) 2009 int.). In their eyes, youth organisations can ‘modify rules of conduct … allowing for discipline’ (Youth leader (t) 2009 int.). These informal interventions are received positively by elders, who attribute peaceful intergenerational relations to ‘the goodwill of [these] organisations’ (Section chief (B) 2007 int.) and observe that ‘we don't have any troubles with the youths because they have a leader … He organises all the youths not to cause problems … The leadership of the youth is the most important reason for the peace we enjoy’ (Town chief (c) 2009 int.). Thus, concerned youth leaders improve and stabilise communal relations. Some, however, also make it clear that you have to ‘dip into your pockets to help here’ (Youth organisation (d) 2009), and that it is often a matter of ‘settling problems by paying the damages of [youths’] crimes' (Youth organisations (A), (B) 2007 ints.). While this raises concerns regarding a functioning rule of law, it is important to understand that such informal conflict resolution keeps costs for youthful delinquents at a minimum, helping youths to avoid becoming indebted to their elders. Nevertheless, ‘settling problems’ for youths is seldom free. In some communities youths who have an income pay contributions to the organisations. These are then also used to pay the bail for their troublesome colleagues. In other cases, youth leaders take on these costs. This is more likely to be the case when youth leaders are successful businessmen essentially acting as patrons to their fellow youths. Problems arising from this are discussed further below.

Requests for communal labour are now often channelled through youth leaders and associations. Groups of youth repair roads, dig wells, do community farming, build latrines, community halls or school buildings. These activities reflect an empowerment of youth in so far as before community labour ‘was an obligation of the subjects of the chief for the chief. No compensation was given and whoever refused would be heavily fined. Today, it is not about no communal labour … but that the chiefs sit down with the youth and let them come up with a timetable, with activities and that, if possible, there are funds for food during this time’ (GTZ staff 2009 int.).

Finally, formal representation of youth is a major step towards democratising gerontocratic local governance institutions. While most respondents regarded such inclusion as important, the level and quality of participation differed substantially across locations, even in nearby places such as sections within one town. A strong determinant of representation was the openness of individual chiefs to inclusion, with younger chiefs showing notably more support for youth. ‘Representatives are elected by the youths themselves … we don't appoint’ (Ceremonial chief (g) 2010 int.), a chief in his forties stated. In contrast, a chief in his late sixties declared: ‘It is our decision who attends the meetings from among the youths’ (Section chief (e) 2010 int.). It therefore comes as no surprise that in all cases, determination and organisational strength of the youth population mattered for representation, with youth leaders stating that ‘youth always force their way into these processes’; ‘demanding representation as a matter of right’ (Youth leader (j) 2009 int.; Youth leader (t) 2009 int.). A general complaint was that youth representation, while formally existent, was highly disproportionate to actual youth population numbers. Moreover, many chiefs accommodate government regulations and donor pressure by including youth but simply ‘hand-pick’ candidates or suppress active participation (interviews with youth leaders: Kono, Pujehun, Makeni 2009). In other communities, however, youth report to be ‘given space in committees’ and ‘being listened to’; that chiefs ‘make use of their opinions’ and ‘encourage them to come aboard’ (interviews with youth leaders: Makeni, Kailahun 2009; Magburaka 2010). Thus, in some Sierra Leonean communities youth effectively influence decision-making through elected representatives. Here, youth and elders also report higher numbers of youth in leadership positions such as those of headmen, chief or district councillors. In other places youth representation is regarded as a privilege at the discretion of the chiefs, who closely control access to any form of participation. Differences in youth representation are reflected in youth's negotiating power over communal labour, as discussed below.

However, taking a closer look at who the chairmen of youth organisations are, or where their main funding sources lie, reveals that many youth organisations are deeply enmeshed in local patronage politics and often induce only limited change to the power asymmetries between youth and elders. While Kailahun's BRA displays a self-confident stance and actively seeks autonomy, many riders drive vehicles belonging to town elders and businessmen. A survey of bikers in Bo town found that the majority of bike riders are dependent on the investments of local ‘big men’. Contrary to the Kailahun case, it finds that ‘this is … why [the bikers] see the profession as attractive: it gets them into contact with prominent people in society. 90% of the employed riders claim that their employers are top businessmen, government, and NGO workers’ (Juana Reference Juana2008: 33).Footnote ¹³ Similarly, Fanthorpe and Maconachie (Reference Fanthorpe and Maconachie2010) report that Kono's BRA is well embedded in patrimonial networks. As mentioned above, some youth leaders used their own funds to bail out troublesome youths and give handouts and occasional jobs to youth, acting as patrons. Interviews revealed that youth representatives in local governance bodies and chairmen of youth organisations are often members of chiefly ruling families.Footnote ¹⁴ Moreover, in the post-conflict setting former commanders control a hierarchy of former foot soldiers (interviews with ex-RUF combatants: Freetown 2007; interviews with youth organisations: Freetown 2007, 2009; Kailahun 2009). Finally, local NGO staff criticised what Manning (Reference Manning2009: 3) terms ‘elders among youths’, namely that ‘the leaders of these groups … are usually 40 or even 50 … There is a conflict of interest between being a youth leader and belonging to the group of adults or elders …’ (GTZ staff 2009 int.). Two important insights follow. First, the logic of power and resource distribution via patrons stays unchanged, with access to patrons determining access to resources. Secondly, power and resources ultimately lie with those who do not belong to the youth age group and/or who held elite positions before, whether in the realm of business, traditional authority or during the war. This resonates with Fanthorpe & Maconachie's (Reference Fanthorpe and Maconachie2010: 262) enquiry into the impact of youth organisations in Kono District. They find little ‘to suggest that post-war associational life in Sierra Leone is departing from earlier … [patron–client] modalities’. Moreover, they report that established elites are co-opting successful youth leaders into party politics and state institutions, undermining their independent stance as youth representatives.

This clearly shows the limits of societal transformation in Sierra Leonean communities regarding positions of power and the logic of resource distribution. Nevertheless, the example of ‘elders among youths’ exhibits societal change as well. Many youth leaders genuinely care for youth's concerns and make a real difference in youths' lives. Data observing the activities of several Freetown-based youth organisations between 2007 and 2010 shows the commitment of ‘adult’ youth leaders to a youth agenda. Beyond their personal profit margin, these local businessmen worked to diversify employment options for youth, and give youth an independent social standing within the community. Regarding this, the author followed a number of court cases lasting several years, in which youth leaders wrest pieces of community land from elders to establish a youth centre for social activities as well as land for gardening and fishing, as further employment options. This long-term and genuinely youth-focused agenda stands in stark contrast to the ad hoc ‘hire and drop’ tactics with which many politicians abuse their role as patrons, for example (Christensen & Utas Reference Christensen and Utas2008). Moreover, many youths reported that an ‘adult’ leader can bridge relations between the young and old in communities more effectively (see also Peters Reference Peters2006: 141). Thus, ‘adult’ youth leaders may be a first step towards decreasing the age of those making decisions and holding power in Sierra Leonean communities, presenting a phenomenon worth further research.

This questions the effectiveness of youth projects funded by the international community. Choosing a specific target group in a desperately poor society has led to all age groups devising strategies to access these resources. For young people, the policy focus has created an acute awareness of numerical age, as ‘being a youth’ has become a livelihood strategy in itself. With project benefits targeted at those aged 15/18–35, asking for somebody's age has become a sensitive issue, and ambiguity in stating one's age is an important strategy to navigate potential gains from project resources. Asked to define youth, all youth respondents solely quoted the age bracket of 15/18–35, while adults and elders described a range of socio-economic features. Adults and elders, meanwhile, have found ways to circumvent the age restrictions on project funding. An example is the phenomenon of ‘youth service agencies’, which claim to ‘take activities to youth’ (interviews with youth organisations, Freetown 2009; youth officer (a) int.). Thus, many organisations are headed by local elites who use their economic and political connections to tap into government and international funds.

Youth organisations are an important feature of intergenerational negotiation and contestation in post-conflict Sierra Leone. They build awareness of rights and developmental issues, bolster youth participation and representation, and provide steps towards more independent livelihoods. However, in many cases leaders of youth organisations come from established elites. This buttresses the age faultline and perpetuates the logic of patrimonialism.

HUMAN RIGHTS: STRATEGIES FOR INTERGENERATIONAL NEGOTIATION

A separate issue from the content of youth's demands is the question of where ideas of more inclusive and egalitarian modes of governance originate. Youth's demands are often explained by the fact that they now ‘have the awareness’ or ‘know their rights’. Respondents located the source of this ‘awareness’ in internal as well as external factors, namely the rejection of pre-war marginalisation and sensitisation through NGOs in the post-conflict phase:

Following the cruelties of the civil war, international actors introduced an agenda of human, children's and women's rights. Importantly, the human rights discourse in Sierra Leone reflects not only the agency with which local groups capitalise on external interventions, but also the way in which the war has triggered a local shift in ideas and norms, empowering and emancipating sections of the rural population (Peters Reference Peters2006: 139–42). Triangulating a broad range of sources, Archibald and Richards (Reference Archibald and Richards2002) find a lively debate centring on notions of individual rights across different age groups in Sierra Leone during and after the war. Speaking of an ‘invention of human rights “from below”’ (ibid.: 340), they show how through the rejection of available alternatives and experience with non-hierarchical communal governance, youth and women propagate a system of resource and rights distribution along individual, egalitarian lines. Specifically, Sierra Leoneans rejected the exploitative and marginalising patrimonial system on the one hand and violent RUF egalitarianism on the other. In the absence of chiefs, who fled or were killed, commoners took on community and governance responsibilities, gaining considerable self-confidence and engaging in a ‘general rural [rights-oriented] discourse’ (ibid.: 347; 352). Peters (Reference Peters2006: 139), moreover, shows that former Civil Defence Forces (CDF)Footnote ¹⁵ fighters make claims, ‘based on their role as defenders of the community during the wartime, to better rights and a fairer treatment by the older generation’. These local processes align neatly with the international human rights agenda. Thus, the potency of the local human rights discourse lies not only in the financial and organisational support from donors propagating a ‘liberal peace’ (Duffield Reference Duffield2001) but even more so in a genuinely local ambition for change based on lived experience. Even though the gerontocratic order was fast to re-establish itself after the war, such new norms, structures and institutions are difficult to completely eradicate. Beyond giving youth (children, women) a rhetorical tool for resistance and empowerment – progress in itself in a society in which speaking up against elders was long unheard of – actual shifts in intergenerational relations have taken place. Many youths now couch their resistance to chiefly privileges and power in terms of defending their human rights, as discussed in the following section. This has had positive effects in so far as exploitation, such as forced labour, has declined and awareness of child abuse and domestic violence increased. Moreover, activism for women's rights has brought changes in customary law in regard to divorce rights and alimony payments (Section chief (a) 2009 int.). Another sign of its effectiveness is the vehemence with which elders complain about the human rights discourse.

Chiefs and elders denounced this discourse as a strategic misuse of the human rights concept, claiming that youth ‘take everything to be human rights’ (Section chief (a) 2009 int.). Respondents complained that youth and children ‘rely much on human rights in disobeying their parents and elders’ (Adult (3) 2009 int.); students and children report physical punishment to the police, jeopardising the ‘maintenance of authority of [parents], chiefs and … schools’ (Elder (c) 2009 int.); and youth ‘do not respect the authority of chiefs’ (Section chief (a) 2009 int.). Chiefs were most critical in places where youth representation and participation were strongest. The local rights discourse, then, not only questions the authority of chiefs but also propagates the need for a shift in schooling techniques and methods of parenting, as authoritarian styles of disciplining, educating and bringing up youngsters are challenged. These social upheavals are likely to initiate changes which can only be realised in the long-term, as they concern norms, values and behaviour at the core of intergenerational communication, learning and relations.

REASSESSING CHIEFLY POWER: COURTS AND COMMUNITY LABOUR

How is youth empowerment affecting the status of chiefs, and two of their core functions, settling disputes and organising the community for communal labour? The overwhelming majority of chiefly respondents regarded themselves predominantly as arbiters of justice. Likewise, the majority of commoners saw it as the role of the chief to ‘settle disputes’, ‘maintain law and order’, and ‘bring peace to the community’. Chiefly courts were at the centre of pre-war criticism and resentment against traditional leaders (Chauveau & Richards Reference Chauveau and Richards2008; Richards Reference Richards2005).Footnote ¹⁶ Allegations focused on the arbitrariness of rulings and punishments, which had little to do with justice or law but rather aimed at solidifying chiefs' positions and the gerontocratic order more generally.Footnote ¹⁷ A second major criticism against chiefly courts was their use for personal enrichment (Peters Reference Peters2011: 45). While chiefs argue that they do not receive a salary for their work and, thus, fines are the ‘suit of the office’, adult respondents were very vocal in their criticism, remarking that ‘you only go to the chief when you have money’, ‘[chiefs] charge plenty money for minor cases’ or ‘as punishment’, and ‘do not give right to those who deserve it but only to those who pay the most’ (Adult survey respondents: Kailahun, Makeni 2009). The level of fines lies completely in the hands of chiefs. A town chief in Kailahun claimed to adjust fines depending on ‘the circumstances of the offence and if the person is a student or has wealth’ (Town chief (a) 2009 int.). Moreover, he showed awareness of the connection between high fines and popular grievances by stating that he should ‘not demand huge amounts from anybody because that was what they say started the war. If [the fines] are too high they prefer to go out [leave town]. If somebody comes to me, begs polite, says he will never do this again, then I return the money.’ Two thirds of the chiefs interviewed for this study claimed to not request charges for their advice and arbitration. This is a good sign especially as many presented this as a ‘new method’ used after the war, with some specifically mentioning adverse affects of high fines. These claims have to be treated with some caution, as the sample contained a disproportionate number of paramount chiefs and speakers. These high-ranking chiefs rarely deal with day-to-day small-scale disputes and are more likely to be wealthy. All Southern and Eastern section and town chiefs interviewed did levy fines, and these were seen as part of the income of the chief. In the North, most chiefs contended that they did not levy fines but expected to be given kola nuts, a valuable stimulant. Nevertheless, of those who claimed to take charges as payment, many stated that ‘if you do not work today [i.e. have additional employment] as a chief you cannot eat meat’ (Town chief (a) 2009 int.), listing their main occupation as farmers, traders or businessmen.

In connection with the human rights agenda, important developments limiting the power of chiefly courts can be observed. Sierra Leone's (slow) progress towards a functioning rule of law incorporating human and civil rights has included a broad process of institutional decentralisation in the realm of law and order with an increased police presence in rural areas. This ultimately encroaches on chiefs’ powers, as they and local courts are more restricted in the type of cases they can handle. A speaker in Kailahun contends that they only settle ‘minor, minor cases, [such as] swamp palaver, bush, boundaries. [Whereas] stealing, wounding, rape are all sent to the police’ (Speaker (a) 2009 int.), where specialised units now operate: ‘Before chiefs could interfere with all cases. Now there is the FSU [Family Support Unit] and Social Welfare and they take care of much. Chiefs are not allowed to act on such cases as rape anymore’ (Town chief (a) 2009 int.). Moreover, as argued above, the awareness of rights which youth display today limits the access chiefs have to potential criminals and the way they can treat them:

This elder points out the decreased ability of chiefs to effectively establish law and order, surely a respectable concern. The flipside of this, however, is the overall problem of power-concentration in elders’ hands, which ideally calls for a neutral arbiter in the police and magistrate courts. This is especially important in cases involving child and women's rights, and any cases brought against youths, in which traditional dispute resolution features an institutionalised bias against these groups. However, these developments are slow to take hold. The state does not have the money to fund police stations and courts throughout the rural areas, leaving people with little choice but to consult chiefly courts. Indeed, more than half of adults and youth surveyed reported to have consulted with a chief, confirming their importance in the lives of the local population.Footnote ¹⁸ This is in line with Sawyer's (Reference Sawyer2008) findings, which reveal that the informal chiefly courts are the most accessible institutions within the Sierra Leonean justice system for most of the people. Sawyer's data (2008: 401) suggests higher levels of criticism of chiefs by younger age groups, with virtually no adverse assessments by adults and elders. In the present sample, students and youth gave a more neutral assessment of chiefs, while the majority of adults made highly critical remarks. These focused on high fines, unfair judgements, too many political quarrels within the chiefly elite, dishonesty and failure to bring about developmental change in the community. Given that most student respondents were barely born at the beginning of the war and youth respondents were in their childhood and teenage years, it is probable that their lack of experience with chiefs is shaping cautious assessments. Adult respondents, whose age ranged from thirty-five to seventy-eight, have clear memories of the pre-war years and more experience with chiefs and their dispute resolution. Indeed they represent the generation of pre-war disgruntled youth who supposedly revolted. Additionally, it is likely that these findings reflect another societal faultline, that of socio-economic status. As mentioned above, not every adult rises to the status of an elder, let alone to a chiefly position. Thus, unsurprisingly, tensions and conflicts also exist within the age group of adults.Footnote ¹⁹

Ambivalence towards the power and role of the chief is reflected not only in contestations around chiefly courts but even more so in the management of community labour. Traditionally, community labour has been organised by the chiefs, who call the youths for various projects and are authorised to punish those refusing participation. The issue of labour benefiting the wider public is still hotly contested. In some instances youth claim such work to be the responsibility of the government or NGOs. More commonly, it is not community labour per se which is rejected, but its management solely by chiefs. Eighty per cent of male youth and sixty-eight per cent of female youth surveyed stated that they had been involved in community labour. All 202 respondents (but one) expressed positive or neutral sentiments towards these tasks, with 72% of males and 64% of females regarding communal labour as ‘the role of youth in the community’. However, it is also clear that the nature of communal labour has changed:

The organisation of community labour varies according to the scope of the project and the level at which it takes place. Regular cleaning exercises are firmly incorporated in household schedules, whereas larger-scale projects such as road construction command more formal consultation and negotiation and are often remunerated. More difficult projects with a developmental aim are now also co-organised by the district councils. Unsurprisingly, consultation with youth in regard to community labour was highest in places with fairly strong youth representation. Where youth participation was not encouraged, youth were generally not consulted and chiefs convened community labour in a predominantly top-down manner. In all fieldsites, chiefs fined youth if they did not participate. In the matter of communal labour organisation a clear rural–urban pattern emerged: in small villages chiefs held a dominant role, while in towns youth organisations worked closely with the district council to arrange regular public services.

As already flagged above, chiefs interviewed complained bitterly about youths’ refusal to follow calls for communal work, citing the misuse of the human rights concept: ‘They say, it's their human right … You can sometimes see that the road is all bushy. If you ask them, they say, it's my human right, you cannot force me … This really is the disadvantage of human rights’ awareness. They do not participate in community work because of these rights’ (Town chief (a) 2009 int.).

Another elder commented that human rights as such are not the problem but that ‘you also need human responsibilities. If you get one and do not have the other it is dangerous … Now, people want to walk on the road but not make the road’ (Elder (b) 2009 int.). While elders are surely biased, defending their positions of power and influence, voices from the NGO and donor community also reflect on their responsibility in this matter:

Chiefs claim that the refusal of youths to perform community work leads to the destruction of community buildings, roads and paths. While youths argue that developmental projects like these are the responsibility of the government, lack of governmental or NGO engagement has meant that ‘they have returned back to community labour in some villages. They waited for the government to bring development. Now they have started to organise themselves. They are better off now’ (Elder (c) 2009 int.). In a similar vein, many communities rely on youths for (night-time) protection and security. With scarce police resources, loosely formed neighbourhood watch and vigilante groups provide this central public good.

This discussion reveals two important insights. First, many chiefs are clearly uncomfortable with the changing power dynamics. Given the high participation rate of youths in community labour as revealed by the survey, chiefs display disproportionate criticism of those few youths resisting communal labour. However, it also shows a tension between the way in which youth envision their role as communities' ‘human resource man power’ (Youth leader (m) 2009 int.) within the local social contract and their striving for more individually based rights. Given the realities of slow and limited engagement by the government, however, communal responsibilities of youth may ultimately trump their claims to human rights if they want to see developmental progress in their communities.

All the above changes considered, chiefs and ruling families still hold a very privileged position regarding access to social and political power and economic resources in Sierra Leone. Some chiefs can still live quite comfortably off tributes (Section chief (a) 2009 int). They dominate elite positions in communities, beyond the obvious chiefly positions. Given that many are relatively more educated, they also take on leadership roles for youth or in schools. This is in turn reflected at the national level where a disproportionate number of members from ruling families are, for instance, members of parliament or important party representatives (Parliamentarian 2009 int.). Nevertheless, it is clear that important changes have been catalysed by the war and post-conflict interventions. As one speaker complained: ‘We used to have power. Now human rights and the government interfere with local things’ (Speaker (a) 2009 int.). Thus, decentralisation and empowerment of youth are reining in chiefly powers, changing the way in which communal labour is organised and chiefly courts are conducted.

Intergenerational relations in post-conflict Sierra Leone are marked by important changes as well as continuities, fuelling processes of negotiation and contestation between elders and youth. Significantly supported by international interventions, youth have been empowered within the community through representation in local governance institutions and the support of youth organisations. Albeit the benevolent actions of some ‘elders among youths’, overall established elites have been quick to subvert larger-scale transformation of social relations. Meaningful participation and inclusion of youth is often stifled by chiefs, while many youth organisations are dominated by established elites. This reinforcement of patrons' positions blocks effective changes towards a more egalitarian distribution of power.

While decentralisation in a broad sense and ‘awareness of youth’ has limited the control chiefs are able to exert over their community, they still play a central role in dispute resolution and the organisation of communal labour. Indeed, these are the functions that the majority of respondents associate with and hence expect of chiefs, thus legitimising their authority. Moreover, they are strengthened by the overall weakness of the state, which leaves chiefs as the relatively more accessible and effective institution of governance.

An interesting field of contestation is the use of the human rights discourse, which has not only generated a language of resistance and self-confidence for youth, but also initiated a shift in intergenerational relations. However, translating rights and rights awareness into actual social change will require large-scale societal transformation of values, behaviour, strategies and relationships. It necessitates a novel generational contract between societal groups, such as children and their parents, students and teachers, community leaders and youth. It calls for new ways of dealing with conflicts to guarantee stability and agreements on and implementation of new social norms. Above all, it demands changes to power relations and, thus, defines new winners and losers in society. Resistance of children, students and youth to their elders is only the beginning of very long-term changes to intergenerational communication, relations and power. Moreover, the language of rights holds only limited potential for change when juxtaposed with the reality of Sierra Leone's political economy. While Peters (Reference Peters2006: 139–40) observes that the steep decline in resources available to elders diminishes their control over youthful clients, poverty also reduces the potential of the state to provide an environment in which all Sierra Leoneans can fully enjoy their human rights. Youth will thus have to continue to provide their physical strength to their communities. This may frustrate many as they may find (unpaid) labour in the name of development as unpalatable as communal labour demanded by chiefs. Realising this, NGOs and donors need to balance their rights agenda with a pragmatic approach including a corresponding awareness of civic responsibilities. Likewise, international actors need to be aware of the fact that their policy and financial focus on youth not only strengthens this group but accentuates the divide between generations, distracting attention from other problematic societal cleavages. The overwhelmingly negative responses of adults towards chiefs and elders, for instance, point to the importance of status/class as a driver of grievances (Peters Reference Peters2011).

Intergenerational solidarity and reciprocity are fundamental building blocks of any society. Likewise, generations in every society compete for power and influence. In Africa, disproportionately male, gerontocratic and patrimonial systems governing economic, social and political life lend a special explosiveness to the social cleavage of generation. The continued weakness of many African states requires the provision of public goods and services to be negotiated within local communities. The (physical) strength of youth is, therefore, an essential driving force for development, which needs to be acknowledged. Moreover, given the demographic weight of younger generations, their empowerment entails a move towards more egalitarian and democratic forms of governance. Balancing intergenerational relations is, therefore, essential for economic and political development.