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Rethinking Political Violence

Series Editor
Roger Mac Ginty
School of Government and International Affairs, Durham University,
Durham, UK

This series provides a new space in which to interrogate and challenge

much of the conventional wisdom of political violence. International
and multidisciplinary in scope, this series explores the causes, types
and effects of contemporary violence connecting key debates on
terrorism, insurgency, civil war and peace-making. The timely
Rethinking Political Violence offers a sustained and refreshing analysis
reappraising some of the fundamental questions facing societies in
conflict today and understanding attempts to ameliorate the effects of
political violence.
More information about this series at http://​www.​palgrave.​com/​
gp/​series/​14499
Editors
Susan H. Allen, Landon E. Hancock, Christopher Mitchell and
Cécile Mouly

Confronting Peace
Local Peacebuilding in the Wake of a National Peace
Agreement
Editors
Susan H. Allen
Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter School for Peace and Conflict Resolution,
George Mason University, Arlington, VA, USA

Landon E. Hancock
School of Peace and Conflict Studies, Kent State University, Kent, OH,
USA

Christopher Mitchell
Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter School for Peace and Conflict Resolution,
George Mason University, Arlington, VA, USA

Cécile Mouly
FLACSO Ecuador, Quito, Ecuador

ISSN 2752-8588 e-ISSN 2752-8596

Rethinking Political Violence
ISBN 978-3-030-67287-4 e-ISBN 978-3-030-67288-1
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-67288-1

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive

license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022

This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively
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retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or
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The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks,

service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the
absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the
relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general
use.

The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the
advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate
at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the
editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the
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Switzerland
Praise for Confronting Peace
“The wider field of peace and conflict studies has long confronted
the challenge of ending wars. After thirty years of research tracking
negotiations, mediation and agreements, perhaps nothing is more
urgent than better understanding of the realities captured in this book.
The challenge of confronting peace. The authors and the approach give
the volume a deep legitimacy, as the key in this effort requires us to
understand the specific processes and innovations needed to bolster
and face the many faceted developments that emerge in the aftermath
of peace processes and accords. These reflections, research and
proposed recommendations offer empirical evidence and grounded
learning for improving the chances that social and political transitions
can offer both the hope of ending war and of solidifying the changes
needed to sustain a more robust peace.”
—John Paul Lederach, Professor Emeritus, University of Notre Dame,
USA
“This fourth in a series of studies on the relationship between
national and local level peacebuilding strategies is fundamental reading
for scholars interested in what happens at the local level after a
national peace agreement has been signed. A diverse group of
pracademics in the peace sector from around the world reflect on how
the problems that arise from national level peace differ from those
confronting local communities. The editors provide a carefully cogent
analysis of the case studies presented in order to give readers a highly
applied, thorough and useful guide to the challenges and possibilities
available to local actors in a post-agreement context.”
—Pamina Firchow, Associate Professor of Conflict Resolution and
Coexistence at Brandeis University’s Heller School for Social Policy and
Management, USA
“This book, with its impressive weaving together of peace practice
and research, points to a potential new wave in conflict analysis and
engagement—making peace with conflict. That is, as the case studies in
this book amply illustrate, “post” conflict peacemaking is rarely about
the end of conflict. Rather, as illustrated in two main “negative” case
studies, where peace agreements have so far failed to hold (in Colombia
and the Philippines) and other cases of failed peace, seeking and
pursuing peace in the face of ongoing conflict is about the daily
engagement and commitment of local communities. This is a brave text
about the benefits and perils if peace.”
—Jay Rothman, President, the ARIA Group, USA and Israel
Preface and Acknowledgments
We have been heartened by colleagues’ growing interest in local peace
and in the stages of conflict that come after peace agreements. Peace is
built and experienced locally, shaping individual lives. And, conflict
continues in the days and years after peace agreements are signed.
Here, we turn our attention to both the local peace and the post-
agreement phase. What is the experience of local peace communities,
after agreements have been signed? Addressing this and related
questions has been a team effort, involving all the authors whose work
appears in this book, as well as many additional colleagues.
The editors would like to thank the Carter School for Peace and
Conflict Resolution (formerly the School for Conflict Analysis and
Resolution) at George Mason University, and in particular the Center for
Peacemaking Practice, for offering its facilities at Point of View in
Virginia for the initial meeting that led to the idea of writing this book
and for providing us with a small grant to make this meeting possible.
Susan H. Allen would also like to thank the Carter School for her study
leave, which enabled her to work on this edited volume, for funding her
participation in a roundtable on the peace process in Colombia that
took place in Quito, Ecuador, with the participation of various authors
of this book, and for supporting research assistance by Michael
Sweigert in the final stages of the manuscript production. Two
members of the editorial team took advantage of this roundtable,
supported by the Latin American Faculty of Social Sciences (FLACSO) in
Ecuador and the office of the Friedrich Ebert Foundation in the same
country, to organize a meeting with contributors writing chapters on
Colombia and to further discuss the book. In addition to hosting the
roundtable, Cécile Mouly would also like to thank FLACSO Ecuador for
funding the research on Samaniego and her travel expenses to meet
with other editors and some of the contributors at the conferences of
the International Studies Association in Baltimore, San Francisco and
Toronto.
Needless to say, this volume would not have seen the light of day
without the support and contributions of all the authors. We are
grateful to them for their commitment and for accommodating to our
requests. Many of them conducted fieldwork to write their chapter and
bring significant insights into how local communities and
peacebuilding initiatives have confronted the signing of peace at a
national level in their respective country. Additionally, we would like to
express our gratitude to Pedro Valenzuela for translating Esperanza
Herná ndez’s chapter into English.
Importantly, we would like to thank all the people of the
communities or peacebuilding initiatives studied, who took the time to
share their experiences with the authors and made this book possible.
We are greatly indebted to them and hope that this volume can
contribute to making their peacebuilding efforts more visible and
helping them to obtain greater support.
Finally, we would like to thank our families for putting up with us
during our work on this collection Sarah Roughley and Rebecca
Roberts, our editors at Palgrave Macmillan, for their guidance
throughout the process.
Susan H. Allen
Landon E. Hancock
Christopher Mitchell
Cécile Mouly
Arlington, VA
Kent, OH
Arlington, VA
Quito, Ecuador
Introduction
Our very first foray into examining local peace in the late 1990s
revealed a wide variety of peace “experiences” which could all be seen
as a form of “institutionalized” conflict (see Mitchell and Nan 1997).
This conception seemed to hold good whether local peace zones,
communities or organizations were built from the top down, the
bottom up or the outside in. Subsequent research produced three
collections of studies seeking to understand better the creation and
survival of local-level peacebuilding. The three studies in this series all
aimed at dealing with different aspects of local peacebuilding in what
might, paradoxically, be termed “normal” abnormal circumstances—
that is, when people in grassroots communities and associations were
having to deal with an environment characterized by nation-wide
violence, displacement, insecurity and death. The first book dealt
generally with various examples of a local search for sanctuary—for
safety and security in conditions of civil war (see Hancock and Mitchell
2007). The second was more concerned with linkages between local
peace initiatives—what Mary Anderson and her colleagues (2013) refer
to as “peace writ little”—and national-level peacemaking efforts,
together with the manner in which these efforts reinforced (or worked
against) one another (see Mitchell and Hancock 2012). The third set
considered various ways in which the different actors in intra-state
conflicts—insurgents, incumbents and interveners of various sorts—
achieved some level of legitimacy that enabled them to carry on with
their efforts, constructive or destructive (see Hancock and Mitchell
2018).
By contrast, this present collection focuses on local peace
communities and organizations when they find themselves in the
aftermath of a negotiated national “peace” agreement, when major
combatants have—finally—managed to hammer out an often fragile
deal and people at the grassroots have to try to make many of the terms
of that agreement “work” at a local level. In other words, local
communities and organizations find themselves confronting “peace”
and the aftermath of widespread violence and destruction. They do this
while—theoretically—enjoying the support of, and resources supplied
by, national or regional governments, or by international supporters.
However, more often, local communities have to rely upon their own
efforts, initiative and resources, with the last often being in very limited
supply.
Hence, the chapters in this book are very much focused on the
problems of “peace.” They examine how local peace communities have
fared in the aftermath of an often long drawn-out, intra-state struggle
usually characterized by a widespread violence that is difficult to draw
to an end. The context thus involves widespread damage—both
physical and psychological—that is difficult to forget, let alone forgive;
widespread mistrust and an unwillingness to compromise on all sides.
Often, the issues in contention underlying the struggle have not been
completely resolved and the danger of a rapid re-ignition of the conflict
remains high. New problems have to be faced, old issues—safety and
insecurity—emerge in new forms and constant dilemmas—
development and unemployment—remain to be faced and even
increase in complexity. At the local level these complexities of peace
often seem to be no less than those arising from civil war.
Moreover, the authors of the following chapters have themselves
faced considerable analytical problems in trying to deal with this focus
of local peace communities in times of “national peace” and in trying to
suggest some general lessons by comparing cases of local, post-
agreement peacebuilding efforts from different countries. However, our
shared central theme was initially rather straightforward: What
obstacles and opportunities confront local peace communities and
organizations—and their previous grassroots initiatives—once some
form of national peace has more or less been achieved?
The book, then, is divided into two main sections, together with this
introductory chapter and a concluding one highlighting any common
lessons we think we may have discovered from our case studies. In this
book we feel that the term post-conflict peacebuilding is rather
misleading. This term is largely focused on top-down, “partial” peace,
arranged (or misarranged) by some kind of a “deal” at the elite level
between state agents and the commanders of at least some of the
insurgent organizations. Moreover, it suggests that the conflict is ended
and that it has been finally resolved, which is often far from the
situation on the ground. In most of the cases discussed in this book, an
agreement may have resulted in diminished violence (or it may not) but
the conflict often continues in some modified form. Hence, in the
following chapters, we highlight the challenges and possibilities of
addressing ongoing conflict issues in the post-agreement phase of
conflict.
Following this brief introductory chapter, in the following one
(Chap. 1) I begin by outlining some shared analytical dilemmas. These
include asking what exactly is meant by a national “peace” agreement
following a protracted intra-state conflict, and how does the nature of
this peace affect local communities, especially those who may have
already established their own form of peace in their own locality. We
then look at the effects of previous—often failed—peace agreements on
local communities and then at the latter’s actual experience of violence
and instability. We then return to issues likely to arise in a post-
agreement period. Finally, we present the framework of questions
posed to the authors of the chapters.
The chapters that follow in the first major section of the book are all
addressed to the recent peacebuilding experiences of local
communities in Colombia . Since the conclusion of the Havana
Agreement at the end of 2016, local communities there have been
dealing with and reacting to the effects of a national peace agreement
negotiated between the Colombian government and the leaders of one
major insurgent movement, the FARC. Some of these peace
communities are organized on a regional basis, while others have
arisen to promote local peace, security and development in often
remote municipalities. Esperanza Herná ndez Delgado in Chap. 2 thus
describes the impact of the “Women Weavers of Life” throughout a
large swathe of Putumayo in the south west of the country, while Mery
Rodríguez and Fernando Sarmiento’s chapter (Chap. 3) takes up the
study of the Development and Peace Program in the Magdalena Medio
region, and examines the effects of the Havana peace accord on this
longstanding peace organization based in communities along the River
Magdalena. In Chap. 4, Ana Isabel Rodríguez Iglesias, Noah Rosen and
Juan Masullo focus on the impact of the 2016 partial peace agreement
on ethnic communities in Chocó through their study of the
“Humanitarian Agreement Now” movement and its activities, both
before and after the Havana accord.
 The next three chapters examine the challenges posed by the
Government-FARC peace deal on three municipalities, and the way in
which local people have had to adapt to new circumstances within
those communities. Cécile Mouly and Karen Bustos in Chap. 5 deal with
the hopes and fears of local dwellers in the municipality of Samaniego
in Nariñ o, while Camilo Pardo-Herrera and Raquel Victorino in Chap. 6
survey the problems faced by local people in Policarpa, a municipality
also in Nariñ o, which has suffered from prolonged state neglect and an
extended period of guerrilla presence. In both communities they find
doubts about whether any genuine form of stable peace has been
achieved. Chapter 7 by Laura Villanueva, Claudia Giraldo, Luis Mario
Gó mez Aristizá bal and Didier Giraldo Herná ndez is more up-beat. Their
study of Granada in Antioquia focuses on the various initiatives that
local groups and individuals have undertaken to restore infrastructure,
education and, most importantly, relationships in this hard-hit part of
the country.
In the second major section of the book, the focus switches from the
effects of national peace on local peacebuilding in Colombia to a wider
consideration of how local communities in other countries have coped
with the demands of peace implementation once an elite agreement has
been concluded. Paul van Tongeren’s comprehensive survey of local
peace committees (LPCs) in five African countries in Chap. 8 sets the
scene for three subsequent case studies on peacebuilding processes in
specific countries. Van Tongeren’s comparative survey involves an
examination of LPCs in South Africa, the DRC, Sudan, Kenya and
Burundi, drawing interesting comparisons from seemingly very diverse
examples of connections between national peacemaking and local
peacebuilding. René Claude Niyonkuru and Réginas Ndayiragije in
Chap. 9 extend the analysis by a detailed and up-to-date evaluation of
local peacebuilding in Burundi, and ask the question: Whose version of
peace will prevail in that strife-torn country, and with what result? The
last two case studies in the book focus on the long drawn-out struggle
in the south of the Philippines and the impact of the equally long
drawn-out peace process between the government there and the Moro
Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) . Wendy Kroeker and Myla Leguro in
Chap. 10 examine the efforts of local religious leaders in Mindanao to
bring together their followers into a less contentious relationship.
Megumi Kagawa, in contrast, in Chap. 11 focuses directly on the
challenges the National Peace Agreement presents to locally negotiated
deals in two communities where security had previously been in the
hands of the MILF insurgents, but which at some not-too-distant time
would have to be handed on to the state.
All of these different chapters present a variety of insights and
lessons for scholars and analysts interested in long-term peacebuilding,
“from the ground up.” The book concludes with a chapter (Chap. 12) by
Landon E. Hancock and Susan H. Allen, seeking to distill from very
different experiences guidelines that might emerge for local leaders
seeking to cope with problems of peace. The one thing it initially seems
safe to say is that whatever might be the problems of trying to maintain
safety and security in the midst of an intra-state war involving
widespread violence, those confronting local leaders in the immediate
aftermath of any negotiated peace are equally complex and difficult, if
possibly a trifle less dangerous. The book is an effort to throw light on
the nature of such problems and—hopefully—suggest some practical
solutions.
Christopher Mitchell

References
Anderson, Mary B., and Marshall Wallace. 2013. Opting Out of War:
Strategies for Preventing Violent Conflict. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner.
Hancock, Landon, and Christopher Mitchell, eds. 2007. Zones of
Peace. Bloomfield, CT: Kumarian.
Hancock, Landon E., and Christopher Mitchell, eds. 2018. Local
Peacebuilding and Legitimacy: Interactions Between National and
Local Levels. London: Routledge.
Mitchell, Christopher R., and Susan Allen Nan. 1997. Local Peace
Zones as Institutionalized Conflict. Peace Review 9: 159–162.
Mitchell, Christopher, R. and Landon E. Hancock, Eds. (2012). Local
Peacebuilding and National Peace: Interaction Between Grassroots and
Elite Processes. London: Continuum.
Contents
1 The Problems Peace Can Bring
Christopher Mitchell
Part I Local Peacebuilding in Colombia after the Havana
Agreement
2 Assuming Peace at the Beginning of the Post-agreement:​The
Case of the “Women Weavers of Life” in Putumayo, Colombia
Esperanza Herná ndez Delgado
3 Bridges, Paths, or Crossroads?​The Magdalena Medio
Development and Peace Program Before and After the Havana
Accord
Mery Rodríguez and Fernando Sarmiento Santander
4 Mobilizing to Counter Post-agreement Security Challenges:​The
Case of the “Humanitarian Accord Now” in Chocó
Ana Isabel Rodríguez Iglesias, Noah Rosen and Juan Masullo
5 Samaniego After the 2016 Peace Agreement:​Between Hope and
Fear
Cécile Mouly and Karen Bustos
6 The Illusion of Peace:​Rural Colombia in the Post-agreement—
The Case of Policarpa
Camilo Pardo-Herrera and Raquel Victorino-Cubillos
7 Rural Human Networks in Granada:​Challenges of Sustaining
Peace Infrastructures in a Post-agreement Phase
Laura Villanueva, Claudia Giraldo, Luis Mario Gó mez Aristizá bal and
Didier Giraldo Herná ndez
Part II Local Post-Agreement Peacebuilding in Africa and Asia
8 Local Peace Committees and How They Relate to Governments
and Peace Agreements:​Examples from Five African Countries
Paul van Tongeren
9 Whose Peace Agenda First?​Unravelling the Tensions Between
National Peace Processes and Local Peacebuilding in Burundi
René Claude Niyonkuru and Réginas Ndayiragije
10 Constant Motion:​Multi-dimensional Peacebuilding for Peace
Processes
Wendy Kroeker and Myla Leguro
11 Uneven Peace Infiltration:​Two Case Studies of Rebel-Led
Community Peace Initiatives in the Bangsamoro
Megumi Kagawa
Part III Conclusions
12 Local Peace Roles in Post-agreement Nominal Peace and
Continuing Conflict
Landon E. Hancock and Susan H. Allen
Index
List of Figures
Fig.​5.​1 Timeline about violence and resistance to it in Samaniego in the
museum of historical memory “Recuerdos de mi wayco”

Fig.​5.​2 Performance by FARC dancing group during the 2018 festival of

musical bands in Samaniego

Fig.​5.​3 Samaniego residents demonstrating against all forms of

violence after the assassination of the municipal ombudsman in May
2019

Fig.​6.​1 Graffiti announce the arrival of illegal armed groups in the

absence of a strong central state presence

Fig.​6.​2 The isolated effort of local authorities to exercise territorial

control

Fig.​6.​3 Multiple armed groups fight over territorial control after FARC’s
demobilization

Fig.​7.​1 2019 Citizen Agenda:​Granada Building a Dream

List of Maps
Map 2.​1 Map of the department of Putumayo

Map 3.​1 Map of the municipalities covered by the PDPMM

Map 5.​1 Geographic location of Samaniego

Map 9.​1 Map of Burundi

Map 10.​1 Map of the Philippines

Notes on Contributors
Susan H. Allen
is Director of the Center for Peacemaking Practice at the Jimmy and
Rosalynn Carter School for Peace and Conflict Resolution, George
Mason University, USA, where she is an associate professor teaching
action research, reflective practice, evaluation and other ways of
blending research and practice in the conflict resolution field. Allen
holds an M.S. and Ph.D. from the same institution in Conflict Analysis
and Resolution.

Karen Bustos
holds an M.Sc. in International Relations from FLACSO Ecuador, where
she is a member of the research group on peace and conflict. By
training she is a lawyer, a specialist in human rights with experience in
issues related to peace and conflict, especially regarding victims of
armed conflict. She has taught undergraduate courses on the theory of
the state and undertaken consulting for, among others, the Victims Unit
(Unidad para las Víctimas) in Colombia and for the Inter-American
Commission on Human Rights.

Didier Giraldo Hernández

holds a Bachelor’s Degree in Basic Education with a concentration in
artistic and cultural education from the University of Antioquia,
Colombia (2010). He was a music advocate at the Granada Culture
House from 1996 to 2015. He is a teacher of Art and Technology in the
Department of Antioquia at the Jorge Alberto Gó mez Gó mez
Educational Institute in the municipality of Granada.

Claudia Giraldo
is a graduate in public accounting. She has worked as a community
manager where she supported projects that guaranteed attention to the
displaced population in the municipality of Granada, Department of
Antioquia, and, in turn, other municipalities in that department. She
served as a secretary in the municipal government of Granada and is a
founding member and Director of Tejiendo Territorio para la Paz
(TEJIPAZ).

Luis Mario Gómez Aristizábal

is a graduate of the Universidad Pontificia Bolivariana, Colombia, where
he studied philosophy and literature. He was Director of the Granada
House of Culture from 1982 to 2017. He played a role in the creation of
the “Union for Granada” movement, served as a councilman and has
also been a newspaper columnist. In light of his work, he was awarded
the Father Clemente Giraldo civic merit medal for his contribution to
the development of the municipality of Granada, Department of
Antioquia.

Landon E. Hancock
is a professor at Kent State University’s School of Peace and Conflict
Studies, USA, and affiliated faculty at Kyung Hee University’s Graduate
Institute of Peace Studies, South Korea, and the Program for the
Prevention of Mass Violence at George Mason University’s Jimmy and
Rosalynn Carter School for Peace and Conflict Resolution, USA. His
research focuses on the role of ethnicity and identity in conflict
generation, dynamics, resolution and post-conflict efforts in
transitional justice. This is coupled with an interest in grassroots
peacebuilding, zones of peace and the role of agency in the success or
failure of peacebuilding efforts. He is the co-editor (with Christopher
Mitchell) of Zones of Peace (2007), Local Peacebuilding and National
Peace (2012) and Local Peacebuilding and Legitimacy (2018). His
articles have appeared in numerous journals including Peacebuilding,
National Identities, Ethnopolitics, Peace & Change and Conflict Resolution
Quarterly.

Esperanza Hernández Delgado

is a peace researcher and professor at the Universidad de La Salle,
Bogotá , Colombia. Her applied research work and publications have
focused on various areas of peacebuilding: grassroots and locally based
peace initiatives, civil resistance, experiences of mediation in the
Colombian armed conflict and comparative peace processes. She has
been a facilitator in processes of constructive dialogue to foster
reconciliation and in conflicts associated with land restitution claims.
She holds a Ph.D. in Peace, Conflict and Democracy from the University
of Granada, Spain, and coordinates the “Peace Laboratory” for the
Doctorate in Education and Society curriculum at the University of La
Salle.

Megumi Kagawa
is a former assistant professor at Hiroshima University’s Graduate
School of Social Sciences, Japan, and project coordinator of the
Hiroshima Peacebuilding Human Resource Development Project for the
Bangsamoro Government in Mindanao. She worked as a Programme
Advisor at the Secretariat of the International Peace Cooperation
Headquarters at the Cabinet Office of the Government of Japan and
operated its Peacekeeping Operations (PKO) missions in the
Democratic Republic of the Congo, Timor-Leste and Nepal. Her recent
publications include “Roles of Rebel Gatekeepers in Mid-Space Peace-
building: A Case Study of Bangsamoro” in Yugi Uesegi (ed.) Hybrid
Peacebuilding in Asia, published in 2019 by Palgrave Macmillan.

Wendy Kroeker
is an assistant professor in the Department of Peace and Conflict
Transformation Studies (PCTS) at the Canadian Mennonite University
(CMU), Canada, and specializes on community conflict transformation
in locations around the globe. She has over 25 years of experience as a
university instructor, community mediator, conflict transformation
trainer, peace program consultant and program manager for
international development projects. Over the past two decades she has
worked with indigenous groups, community and religious leaders,
diverse educators and NGO staff in locations such as the Philippines,
Indonesia, Myanmar, Laos, South Korea, Ukraine, India, Bangladesh and
Palestine. In addition to her teaching at PCTS, she is the Academic
Director of the Canadian School of Peacebuilding, CMU’s annual
institute, bringing students from around the globe for
credit/professional development courses in the fields of development,
conflict transformation and peacebuilding. Her research interests
involve exploring post-conflict peacebuilding, the role of local actors in
peacebuilding and the role of peace education in conflict areas.

Myla Leguro
holds an M.A. in Peace Studies from the Kroc Institute for International
Peace Studies, University of Notre Dame, USA. She has worked for
Catholic Relief Services (CRS) since 1991 on peace and development
projects in Mindanao. As the Program Manager of the Peace and
Reconciliation Program of CRS-Philippines, Leguro organized two
major peacebuilding initiatives: the Mindanao Peacebuilding Institute
in 2000 and the Grassroots Peace Learning Course in 2003. She has
worked as an international trainer in Timor-Leste and Nepal and has
served as a resource person in various peacebuilding conferences in
Colombia, Thailand and the USA. In 2006, she was the first CRS-Kroc
Visiting Fellow. Leguro holds the distinction as being one of the 1000
women collectively nominated for the 2005 Nobel Peace Prize. She
recently served as Program Director of a CRS global program on
Advancing Interreligious Peacebuilding, an initiative that covered four
interrelated projects on interreligious dialogue and cooperation in
Egypt, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Niger, Nigeria and the Philippines. She
works as the Peacebuilding Technical Advisor for CRS-Philippines and
acts as Justice, Peacebuilding and Social Cohesion Focal Point for CRS-
Asia region.

Juan Masullo
, Ph.D., is a lecturer in the Department of Politics and International
Relations (DPIR) at the University of Oxford, UK, where he is also
affiliated with Nuffield College, the Changing Character of War Centre
(CCW) and the Latin American Centre (LAC). His research focuses on
civilian behavior and civilian attitudes in contexts of political and
criminal violence, especially in Latin America.

Christopher Mitchell
has held academic positions at University College, London, the London
School of Economics, and in the Department of Systems Science at the
City University, London, where he became Professor of International
Relations in 1983. He joined George Mason University’s Institute for
Conflict Analysis and Resolution in 1988 and is Emeritus Professor of
Conflict Research at the Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter School for Peace
and Conflict Resolution there. He continues to work on practical and
theoretical aspects of peace making, and has written books and articles
on conflict resolution, on the theory of entrapment, on ending
asymmetric conflicts and on a multi-role model of mediation. He has
recently co-edited three books about grassroots peacebuilding with
Landon E. Hancock, the latest of which, Local Peacebuilding and
Legitimacy, was published in Spring 2018. His retrospective text book,
The Nature of Intractable Conflict, was published by Palgrave Macmillan
in December 2014 and in Spanish as La Naturaleza de los Conflictos
Intratables (Edicions Bellaterra) in 2016.

Cécile Mouly
is a research professor at FLACSO Ecuador, and coordinator of the
research group in peace and conflict there. She is also a practitioner,
specializing in peace and conflict studies. She teaches postgraduate
courses and facilitates practitioner trainings on issues related to
conflict analysis, conflict transformation and peacebuilding. She is a
resource person in “Conflict Prevention: Analysis for Action” for the UN
System Staff College and collaborates with the Colombian truth
commission. She holds a Ph.D. in International Studies from the
University of Cambridge, UK. Her research focuses on the role of civil
society in peacebuilding, peace processes, civil resistance in the context
of armed conflict and the social reintegration of former combatants.

Réginas Ndayiragije
has more than ten years of professional experience in peacebuilding
programs. He worked for AGEH (Association for Development
Cooperation), a German peacebuilding organization, as a regional
design, monitoring and evaluation expert for three years. Then, he
worked as a researcher for the Conflict Alert and Prevention Center
(CENAP) in Burundi. He has also worked as a consultant for many
organizations and research institutes, including Global Rights, Impunity
Watch, Sustainable Development Center and the Global Network of
Women Peacebuilders. He holds a B.A. in Psychology and a Master’s
Degree in Human Rights from the University of Burundi, an M.Sc. in
Governance and Development from the University of Antwerp, Belgium,
and is a teaching assistant and Ph.D. researcher at the University of
Antwerp, with a focus on power-sharing and state engineering in
contemporary Burundian politics.

René Claude Niyonkuru

is a researcher with a focus on public policy, peace and conflict, human
rights, governance and development, with more than 15 years of
experience both in Burundi and in many other African countries
(Kenya, Democratic Republic of Congo, Rwanda, Cote d’Ivoire, Mali and
Burkina Faso). He is also a practitioner and has worked as a trainer of
trainers in conflict management and transformation, human rights
education, and served in various projects as a resource person in
project design, monitoring and evaluation. Besides his professional
experience, he has extensively worked with society organizations for
18 years as a human rights activist. He holds a B.A. in Law from the
University of Ngozi, Burundi, an M.Sc. in Governance and Development
from the University of Antwerp, Belgium, and is pursuing a Ph.D. in
Political and Social Science at the Universite Catholique de Louvain,
Belgium.

Camilo Pardo-Herrera
is a proud Colombian. He has worked extensively on humanitarian and
land issues in Colombia and other Latin American countries. Other of
his intellectual and research interests include the political economy of
development, corruption and organized crime. He has worked for
governments, for civil society and for international organizations. He
holds a Ph.D. from George Mason University, USA, and an M.Sc. from
University College, London, UK.

Ana Isabel Rodríguez Iglesias

holds a Ph.D. in International Politics and Conflict Resolution from the
University of Coimbra, Portugal (2020). In 2012, as a Fulbright Scholar,
she obtained a Master’s Degree in Latin American Studies from
Georgetown University, USA, and in 2010, as a La Caixa Scholar, a
Master’s in International Relations from CEU San Pablo University,
Spain. She is a member of the research group GLOBALCODES at the
School of Communications and International Relations, Ramon Llull
University, Spain, and she teaches at the Universitat Internacional de
Catalunya, Barcelona. Previously, she taught at different universities in
Portugal and Colombia and worked as an international consultant for
the Inter-American Development Bank in Washington D.C. Her research
interests include peace, ethnicity, gender and securitization.
Mery Rodríguez
is a Colombian interested in designing and implementing intercultural
dialogue, mediation, facilitation and training processes in various
subjects, among them local peacebuilding, community dynamics,
human rights, gender approach, intersectionality, transitional justice,
multiparty dynamics and dialogue. She holds an M.Sc. in Conflict
Analysis and Resolution from George Mason University, USA, and is a
Ph.D. candidate at Ramon Llull—Blanquerna Universitat, Barcelona,
Spain. She is part of the team of the Peace Observatory (Observatorio
para la Paz) in Colombia, as a researcher and facilitator.

Noah Rosen
is a Ph.D. candidate at American University School of International
Service, USA. In 2013 he graduated from Macalester College with a BA
in International Studies. His research focuses on non-violent social
movements in conflict and peacebuilding contexts. He is completing a
dissertation, working with Afro-Colombian organizations in the Pacific
regions of Colombia and focused on grassroots social movements in the
context of a national peace process: What kinds of new opportunities
and threats does a peace process create for local social movements?
How can movements advance their interests given this complex, rapidly
changing context? His research has been supported by the U.S. Institute
of Peace, as well as the Lewis and Clarke Fund for Exploration and Field
Research.

Fernando Sarmiento Santander

is a philosopher and holds a Master’s Degree in Political Studies. His
professional career in the field of peacebuilding spans over 25 years. He
is a researcher in social and political science, with emphasis on peace
research. He has professional experience in project coordination,
teaching, knowledge management, political participation, conflict
analysis and transformation and capacity-building of civil society
organizations. He is acting as the National Coordinator of the Network
of Regional Development and Peace Programs (Redprodepaz) and
Executive Director of the Redprodepaz Foundation.

Paul van Tongeren

LL.M., established the European Centre for Conflict Prevention (ECCP)
in 1997, publishing the People Building Peace and the Searching for
Peace volumes. He was the conveyor of the Global Partnership for the
Prevention of Armed Conflict (GPPAC), which organized a conference
on the role of civil society in peacebuilding at the United Nations
Headquarters in New York in 2005 at the invitation of the UN
Secretary-General Kofi Annan. He was Secretary-General of GPPAC until
2010. Since then, he has focused his attention on enhancing
Infrastructures for Peace (I4P) and Local Peace Committees (LPC) and
has written many articles about LPC and I4P.

Raquel Victorino-Cubillos
is a political scientist with a Master’s Degree in Rural Development
from Pontificia Universidad Javeriana, Colombia, a Ph.D. in
Environmental Law from Universidad Externado de Colombia,
Colombia, and studies in Culture of Peace from the Autonomous
University of Barcelona, Spain. She has worked as a researcher and
human rights analyst at the Center for Research and Popular Education
(CINEP) and the System of Early Warning of the Office of the Human
Rights Ombudsman of Colombia. She has over 10 years of experience in
analyzing the links between armed conflict and land issues, first at the
Protection of Lands and Patrimony Project (initiative of international
cooperation agencies with the Colombian government through the
Social Action Unit), then at the Unit of Land Restitution, where she was
Social Director, and more recently as an advisor of the Colombian truth
commission, working on the drafting of recommendations of non-
repetition on the subject of land and the armed conflict.

Laura Villanueva
is affiliated with the Jena Center for Reconciliation Studies at Friedrich-
Schiller-Universitä t Jena in Jena, Germany. She holds an M.S. and a Ph.D.
from the Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter School for Peace and Conflict
Resolution at George Mason University, USA. She is a peacebuilder with
a hallmark for innovation in transforming conflicts throughout the
world. For over a decade, she has led a people-to-people harmony-
building process co-located in Japan and the Middle East. She is actively
involved in Colombia, where she is a founding member and an adviser
for territorial peace in Tejiendo Territorio para la Paz (TEJIPAZ) and
peace adviser to the Association of Victims United for Life of the
Municipality of Grenada (ASOVIDA). She is also co-founder of Daret
Salam (Peace Circuit) and adviser for the Daret Salam peace office in
Syria. Between 2014 and 2020, she was executive director at the Center
for Peacemaking Practice at the Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter School for
Peace and Conflict Resolution at George Mason University.
© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022
S. H. Allen et al. (eds.), Confronting Peace, Rethinking Political Violence
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-67288-1_1

1. The Problems Peace Can Bring

Christopher Mitchell1
(1) The Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter School for Peace and Conflict
Resolution, George Mason University, Arlington, VA, USA

Christopher Mitchell
Email: cmitchel@gmu.edu

Keywords Demobilization – Reconciliation – Reintegration – Trauma

healing – Refugee return

“Post-War”
One familiar type of protracted conflict, inter-state or transnational
wars, seldom end neatly on a specified date.1 In many cases, if one
examines the “ending of the conflict” in detail, there is often no clear
dividing line between “during the war” and “after the war”. Often there
is a long “gray” period between the ending of open warfare or
organized mass violence on the one hand, and a widespread, stable
“peace”, even if the latter only exists in the sense that violence, damage,
and danger stop being a serious threat to “getting back to normal”. In
this gray area, peace is being worked out as the various communities
deal with the problems and opportunities presented by the new
situation. Those involved must cope with changed relationships
brought about by the conclusion of a peace agreement, even if the latter
is only an armistice, anticipating a later negotiated peace treaty.
If this is true of inter-state wars, it is even more true of protracted
intra-state wars, the conflicts that typify the post-Cold War world of the
late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries.2 Many of these conflicts
involve long struggles over intractable issues that often appear to
devolve into questions of survival. They are also asymmetric in the
sense that one side usually controls the apparatus of the state, perhaps
with the support of a majority community, but the other has enough
support and resources to keep on with the struggle, despite setbacks
and defeats. Sometimes, the incumbents win, as in the case of the Sri
Lankan Government’s final defeat of the secessionist LTTE in 2009, and
an uneasy, one sided “after the war” descends upon the country. More
rarely, the insurgents succeed in their objectives and face a complex
post-conflict situation. On many other occasions, a national-level
compromise agreement is painfully negotiated by the adversaries and
some kind of peace is achieved at a national level—El Salvador or
Guatemala in the 1990s—or at least throughout the regions that have
seen continuing violence and disruption—Northern Ireland following
30 years of “the Troubles” terminating in the “Good Friday” 1998
Agreement .

Alternative Forms of National “Peace”

The major question with which we are concerned in this volume is
what effects do the achievement of a negotiated, national peace have
upon those grassroots communities and organizations that have
already been working for some form of peace at a local level. Answering
this question clearly poses some major conceptual difficulties, one of
which involves the rather vague use of the term “national level peace”
in describing many recent conflicts that have come to some kind of
ending.
For a start, there is the question of phases. A national “peace” can
describe at least three sets of circumstances which, at different time
periods, can affect local communities in a country that has been
suffering from a protracted civil war, long revolutionary struggle, or
protracted secessionist movement:
A post-agreement transition phase in which the provisions of the
agreement regarding the central issues in conflict and the behavior of
the adversaries has to be modified in line with the terms of the
agreement in the short term and throughout the country.
 A normalization phase during which new relationships have to be
built up and tested, new institutions put into place, trust built up, and
adversaries learn to coexist—or even cooperate—over the longer
term.
A post-conflict consolidation phase , during which any issues in
contention are dealt with peacefully, widespread reconciliation
occurs, and the idea of using violence as a means of attaining goals is
not seen even as a remote possibility.3
While these phases often overlap, I would argue that it is the first of
these—the post-agreement phase, which can, in fact, last a very long
time—during which peace is most fragile and vulnerable, both at the
national and at the local, grassroots level. In such circumstances,
mistrust between erstwhile adversaries is at its height, the terms of the
agreement are most open to alternative interpretation, opportunities
for spoilers to undermine the implementation of key parts of the
agreement are most prevalent, and tensions between the provisions of
the national-level agreement and existing peace practices at the local or
regional level are most likely to arise. In practical terms, local
communities face huge problems of reconstruction—of homes, schools,
clinics, roads, and bridges—as well as of livelihoods and relationships.
Refugees and Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) return and need to be
reintegrated in often devastated communities. Rival combatants need
somehow to be reintegrated into civilian life. Most importantly, minimal
safety and security have to be re-established at both the national and
local levels.
A whole range of such factors need to be taken into consideration in
trying to answer questions about interactions between national- and
local-level peacemaking and peacebuilding and the way in which they
reinforce or undermine one another. At the very least, the basic issue of
who is involved in the peace agreement—and who is left out—seems
quite crucial to the list of problems a national agreement might bring to
local communities in a post-agreement phase. Does the national-level
agreement involve all the combatants or merely some of them? If the
“peace” involves leaving out major players in the conflict, rather than
just the inevitable fringe “spoilers”, what additional major problems
does this impose at both the national level and upon local peace-
seeking and peace implementing communities? Are we confronting a
situation resembling the marginally supported and fairly impotent
“Continuity IRA” rejecting the 1998 Good Friday Agreement, or one in
which some really major players in the civil war consistently reject
deals worked out with the Interim Government of National Unity
(IGNU) in Monrovia?
Quite apart from the detailed terms of a nationally negotiated peace
agreement, who is not included in the process seems crucial to the
implementation problems likely to face local peace communities and
organizations. We can suggest three alternative models:
1. A bilateral national peace agreement involving government
incumbents and a single, unified insurgent organization and dealing
with compromises on the major issues in contention. (The 1999
Lome Peace Agreement between the Government of Sierra Leone
and the Revolutionary United Front of Sierra Leone.)

2. A multilateral national peace agreement between the incumbent

government and a coalition of insurgent organizations, sufficiently
cohesive so as to be able to negotiate and implement a deal on
behalf of all opposition forces. (The 1972 Addis Ababa Agreement
between the Sudanese Government and the South Sudanese
Anyanya.)

3. A partial national peace agreement, involving the incumbent

government and one—or even several—of the insurgent
organizations but excluding other major adversaries who continue
or even escalate the conflict. (The 2016 Havana Agreement
between the Colombian Government and the Fuerzas Armadas
Revolucionaria de Colombia (FARC), which did not involve the
insurgents of the ELN.)4

A study of the number of peace agreements concluded between

1990 and 2010 by Christine Bell and her colleagues at the Universities
of Ulster and Edinburgh indicates that partial peace agreements
involving only some of the combatants (Model 3 above) are the most
frequent type of national peace agreement concluded in cases of
intractable, intra-state conflict. Hence, many of the chapters in this
volume examine aspects of the national/local interface following the
conclusion of this type of agreement, especially “partial” agreements
between the Colombian Government and the FARC (but not the ELN) or
between the Philippine Government and the Moro National Liberation
Front (MNLF) (but not the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) or Abu
Sayef.)
As we will see, the problems for local peace communities or for
regional peace organizations that result from this kind of partial peace
agreement are particularly difficult. They often center around the
whole issue of diminishing grassroots safety and security, the very
factors that are supposed to improve with the conclusion of a national-
level peace. In many cases, local security for civilian populations tends
to be adversely affected by subsequent competition for control of
territory and resources among insurgent organizations that are not
part of the peace agreement.5 For local communities, the persistence of
high levels of violence and insecurity arise from a number of factors,
including the continuation of struggle for control of territory (and other
goods) previously firmly held by peacemaking insurgents that become
the object of contention between government security forces and
intransigents. In such circumstances, the fighting continues and even
escalates. Hence, there is no country-wide disarmament of insurgents,
accompanied by a diminished role for security forces. Longer term, this
may even involve a redefinition of the role of the military. Add in to the
situation the whole issue of the “security dilemma” for former
combatants, and their likely reversion under threat to armed reaction
—or even possible conversion to organized crime—and the local post-
agreement security situation can present daunting new problems for
local-level peacebuilding, even in cases where the national police do
return and the army withdraws.

Previous Experience of Partial or Failed Peace

Agreements
At least two other factors can have a major effect the reactions of local
communities—especially peace communities—to the conclusion of a
national-level peace agreement, especially a partial agreement. The
first of these is the experience these communities may already have had
with previously concluded peace agreements, either (1) those which
have produced only a partial peace, but allowed combat to continue or
(2) those which have collapsed completely and resulted in a
resumption of the struggle.
It seems only reasonable to argue that local lessons learned about
problems that were previously faced at the grassroots level are likely to
affect communities’ responses to later efforts to have the terms of a
new national agreement accepted and implemented at that level. If, for
example, a previous agreement resulted in a return of large number of
IDPs who had fled under threat from then active local combatants, such
a return must, surely, have an impact on contemporary provisions for
return and reinsertion. If disarmed but unemployed combatants
resulting from a national agreement failed to be smoothly reintegrated
into local economic life—rural or urban—this hardly makes for a high
level of local enthusiasm for implementing a subsequent, nationally
negotiated agreement. If, following previous accords, leaders of armed
groups responsible for serious human rights violations have retired
untroubled, local communities affected by previous violations are
unlikely to have much enthusiasm for similar provisions for impunity.
At a more modest level, past payments to support ex-combatants for
giving up violence can have easily aroused long simmering anger,
especially among local communities who have been victims of violence
yet have obtained little recompense. This situation is by no means
uncommon. There may be violent disagreement about whether the
2005 Santa Fe de Ralito Pact between the Colombian Government and
the paramilitary Autodefensas Unidas de Colombia (AUC) was a genuine,
national “peace agreement”.6 However, it was clearly the case that local
impacts of that agreement presented a variety of major difficulties for
local communities, many associated with reintegration and
reparations.7
Other problems of déjà vu for local communities can arise when a
previous national peace agreement has collapsed in renewed fighting.
Again, such a situation seems to have been all too common. Studies
conducted at Uppsala University and based upon the Uppsala Conflict
Data Program (UCDP) data set on Peace Agreements between 1989 and
2005 have shown that many peace agreements broke down and the
conflict reignited in further periods of fighting, even if the violence did
cease for a brief period. Karl Derouen and his colleagues (Derouen et al.
2009), for example, found that of the 144 peace agreements contained
in the Uppsala data set, 43 of them were “abrogated”, with one side or
the other reneging and resuming fighting. The average duration of such
failed national agreements was 11 months.
Looked at on a case-by-case basis, we can see a similar pattern of
repetitive failure in individual countries. For example, the savage civil
war in Sierra Leone went through a four-year period between 1996 and
2000 during which two comprehensive peace agreements—the Abidjan
Peace Agreement and the Lome Peace Agreement—were signed
between the government and the Revolutionary United Front (RUF)
rebels. Both were duly and rapidly broken.
The argument in this section is, therefore, based on the assumption
that local communities can and do learn from their experiences of
previous national peace efforts and from the latter’s impacts on local
peacebuilding initiatives. Thus, it becomes necessary to ask whether, at
the national level, there had been any previous peacemaking and
peacebuilding agreements and whether these had succeeded, partially
succeeded, or completely failed to establish even a limited level of
peace—“negative” peace in Galtung’s sense. In many countries, it turns
out that there are many examples of peace agreements that have been
partial or incomplete, in the sense that they involved only some of the
major combatants; or ineffective in the sense that the parties to the
agreement returned to fighting after the conclusion of what turned out
to be a failed accord.

Local Experiences of Combat and Violence

A third major factor affecting local reactions to a new peace agreement
must surely be the often very different experience of combat endured
by local communities, especially given the likely regional variations in
levels of violence. Communities which had developed grassroots
peacebuilding strategies might now be challenged by the provisions of
another national-level peace deal. Local reactions are often affected by
what went before—by experiences “during the war”. Conditions while
the conflict continues must provide a kind of a benchmark for local
people to compare post-agreement conditions, for better or worse, and
hence to determine their reactions to new opportunities made
available, but also to new burdens imposed.
 At its simplest, the question is the extent to which a community’s
environment was reasonably stable during the period preceding the
conclusion of the peace agreement. Put another way, what was the level
of violent contention surrounding and affecting local people and their
day-to-day lives? On the one hand, many communities in civil wars
were fortunate; combat and violence stayed well away from them and
occurred in distant places—often in peripheral regions distant from
centrally located communities, so such communities were relatively
unaffected by the violence.
Other communities find themselves in a region of major contention,
because they command or contain valuable goods—access routes,
commodities, and resources that generate wealth and income. Hence,
they find themselves constantly fought over and often occupied or re-
occupied by rival forces, incumbent or insurgent. Apart from damage
and devastation to both economic and socio-cultural fabric, the results
of this instability can include murders, massacres, mass flight, seizure
of property by outside invaders, widespread insecurity, widening intra-
communal cleavages, growing mistrust, and a loss of social cohesion
within the affected community.
Casey Ehrlich’s (2016) study of municipios in Eastern Antioquia
characterizes this link between instability during the war and local
community reactions in the “after the war” by emphasizing the idea of
the stability of “exogenous control” while the struggle continues.
Control can be exercised either by incumbents (state agents or their
allies) or by insurgents. Both sides can supply goods—such as security,
governance, social services, and education—on a regular, stable basis as
long as their control is not challenged by adversaries seeking to wrest
domination away from those supplying such goods.8 We might envisage
a local community’s “during the war” environment as lying somewhere
along a notional “continuum of exogenous control”, which begins with
stable unilateral control and ends with a situation of utter instability.
The latter can be characterized as a situation in which physical control
passes briefly from first one adversary then another, or one in which
control is constantly being fought over—inconclusively. The result is
the existence of a kind of local political and social no man’s land over
which a national “peace” is then declared and where combatants and
communities need to accept the new relationship and to implement the
details.
To extend Ehrlich’s idea of exogenous control, we note that Annette
Idler (2019) has suggested an alternative way of considering
communities’ experience of insurgent-related violence in her
innovative study of “borderland” communities in Colombia. Focusing on
local inter-insurgent relationships that establish the environment for
local communities, she examines situations in which rival insurgent
organizations struggle for local control of commodities and
communities. She then distinguishes three basic “clusters” of
circumstances that may have confronted local leaders and communities
with very different wartime environments. The first and most extreme
of these she labels “enmity”, in which “violent non-state groups have no
motivation to co-operate, distrust prevails … groups do not recognize
others’ right to exist and are willing to use unlimited violence against
each other” (Idler 2019, 37). Alternatively, such groups may
simultaneously share short-term or converging interests while
remaining fierce rivals, but still be able to agree temporary, tactical
deals and develop a working level of trust. The environment for local
communities is thus rather more stable, but still liable to break down
into bouts of fighting. Such an environment of “rivalry” can be replaced
by one involving what Idler terms “friendship” in which groups respect
each other, and stable, long-term relationships avoiding overt violence
can become the wartime norm (Idler 2019, 38–39).
Whichever environment prevails during the time of violence, it still
seems reasonable to assume that the changeover to a condition of
national “peace” will present more complex problems for communities
emerging from that environment, especially so when the peace is a
partial one between the state and one or other but not all of the
insurgents.
For example, a variety of recent micro-level studies have focused on
the success of the disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration of
combatants which usually form a central part of a national peace
settlement. Some of these have clearly supported this idea of a strong
link between communities’ experience of combatant violence during
the struggle and the level of willingness to accept returning ex-
combatants and to reintegrate them into local life. In the post-
agreement phase in Sierra Leone after 2002, for example, research by
Humphreys and Weinstein (2009) found, hardly surprisingly, that
returning combatants “who fought in units that were highly abusive
towards civilians … faced a much more difficult path to reintegration ”
(59–60). As far as local receptivity was concerned, it seems that the
reputation of the combatant unit involved mattered far more than any
personal characteristics of a returning individual.
To summarize all of the above, we hypothesize that how a particular
local community reacts to and deals with a national-level peace
agreement depends to a large degree upon the following three factors:
1. The peace agreement itself, its nature—whether it is partial or
comprehensive and whether it deals with the simple ending of
violence or with the form of future relationships between the
parties—and its contents, addressing some or most of the
substantive issues in conflict.

2. The community’s experience with the effects of previous national-

level peace agreements, and especially their impact on grassroots
arrangements for local security, survival, and development.

3. The community’s experience of violence, combat, damage, and

disruption during the national-level conflict.

The question now becomes: what are some of the problems and
dilemmas likely to arise for local communities in this post-agreement
world, and to what extent, if any, do they differ from those confronted
in time of civil war? Are the problems of peace wholly new or are they
simply an extension of those already faced during time of war? What
follows is an effort to produce a framework to help answer such
questions in detail, particularly as regards local communities who have
already been working on problems of local peacebuilding.

Post-agreement Problems
With this as background, we move on to what might be “new” for local
people following the conclusion of some form of national peace
agreement. Usually, this deal is achieved at the elite level and often
without much input from local people or organizations. In many post-
agreement situations, many “new” things turn out, on examination, to
be old problems in slightly different forms. For many communities,
especially those in peripheral regions where violence and combat are
most likely to have occurred, economic problems of poverty, inequality,
unemployment, lack of resources, and funding for development have
not gone away. Often, they return with increased urgency once peace
has been established, community security—hopefully—achieved, and
former combatants and returnees added to local labor markets.
These continuing problems are frequently exacerbated by the
destruction of local infra-structure and productive resources during the
fighting. Crops—legal or illegal, but both essential—may have been
destroyed, farms abandoned, bridges destroyed, local markets lost,
power lines (if any) sabotaged, oil pipelines, and related installations
wrecked. In addition, socially important grassroots resources that
support economic life—schools, clinics, community training centers,
churches, and roads—are likely to have been shut down or targeted and
destroyed during the fighting. Thus, “post-war reconstruction” remains
central to the problems faced by local communities even though this
has been joined at the top of the list of peace problems by other, newer
issues.

The Search for Security

One of the most pressing issues following a negotiated agreement
involving a national cease fire, the surrender of arms and the ostensible
ending of violence, is what has become known as the “security
dilemma” for former combatants. Who is to provide safety and security
for former insurgents who
a. have given up their “defenses of last resort”—their weapons

b. need protection—from their own intransigents, their former

enemies, the security forces—and

c. require some equivalent assurances from the other side—self-

policing, safe areas, security forces’ withdrawal to barracks, and
international supervision?
 The problem for former guerrillas remains acute while they remain
physically grouped together in initial assembly areas, but once they
disperse, they become even more vulnerable to retaliatory assaults or
planned campaigns of assassinations. They also have to resist serious
efforts to tempt them back into lives of violence, whether in emerging
but lucrative criminal gangs or—should key aspects of the peace
process prove dangerous or disappointing—re-emerging insurgent
organizations.
From the perspective of local communities, the initial problem is
whether they have to confront the presence of an assembly area nearby,
while subsequent problems involve absorbing former combatants into
the community in some peaceful manner. As Sam Gibson and others
have argued, there is a strong tendency within local “receiving”
communities to regard resettled ex-combatants as inherently violent
and a continuing threat to local safety and stability (Gibson 2018;
Prieto 2012). This may not be an unreasonable fear.
Quite apart from the question of providing safety for ex-combatants,
another aspect of this overall dilemma over “security” is that, in some
post-agreement situations, there also arises the question of who can
provide security for local communities, especially those in remote areas
previously controlled by one or other of the armed actors. Before the
peace, many local communities will have relied upon protection from
an armed insurgent group that has now withdrawn or is in the process
of being demobilized. Who, subsequently, is likely to be able to fill this
vacuum in “community security”? In many cases, the state authorities
simply lack the resources to take over grassroots security functions
throughout the country. Even when policing resources are available, the
local community often does not trust state agencies, who in turn are
likely to regard some grassroots communities as guerrilla supporters
and return that mistrust. In the first case, the state simply lacks the
resources to take over the provision of local security from the former
insurgents, who at least provided a modicum of safety and stability to
grassroots communities. If, in the absence of the state, this function is
not to be usurped by armed self-defense forces, criminal gangs, local
mafias, or—in the case of a merely partial peace agreement—members
of unreconstructed insurgent groups, then local communities face a
more complicated task of ensuring their own safety as best they can.
 However, as we argued above, this is not an entirely new problem
for many local communities who have established themselves in the
past as a peace zone or community. For such entities, the organization
of sanctuary for members of the community has been a constant
problem. Hence, making arrangements for individual and family safety
and protection, as well as for community security, is usually nothing
unfamiliar. What is new is having to develop new strategies and
structures to deal with threats of revenge or retaliation. Safety now
might have to be sought from criminal gangs or mafias, as well as from
combatant organizations excluded from the peace process.
Moreover, in the new post-agreement world, while the mechanisms
for achieving security for community members will still involve
informal negotiations with local power holders, security can now also
involve using newly available legal channels for redress as well as for
security. There might be still further problems for those local
communities that have in the past used local or indigenous conflict
resolution processes when these informal and locally developed
processes come into conflict with the returning state-based institutions
and processes.

Conflict Resolution and Dispute Settlement

Another major change during the post-agreement stage often involves
the re-establishment of processes for settling local disputes and grass
roots conflicts, which can range from domestic issues to long-standing
feuds between families or whole communities (Chopra 2009). These
often revolve around complex issues of past wrongs, revenge and
recompense, land ownership, access to common local resources,
occupancy of local political office and leadership roles, or competing
issues of local power and influence. In many protracted intra-state
conflicts, dealing with such grassroots issues and disputes has often
fallen into the hands of combatant organizations in control of the local
environment. Alternatively, local conflicts can become the business of
informal grassroots organizations set up to deal locally with domestic
disputes or local conflict.
In the aftermath of a national peace agreement, a key result in many
regions has been the return of the state and its agencies. Admittedly,
the first of these often takes the form of a local security force, but this is
usually followed by the re-establishment of a local administration
charged with governance, together with a legal system and formal
procedures for settling disputes and enforcing the law—the “return to
law and order” which is a central part of any national peace agreement.
In many parts of conflict-afflicted countries, “law and order” has
never been absent—especially so in cities and urban areas. However, in
remote regions—and even in some outlying districts of major cities—
the absence of the state has often left a void in which state functions
have been notable for their absence. Such functions can range from
issues of taxation—sometimes replaced by “revolutionary taxes” in
some form or other—to the provision of services to the local
community—education, health care, and economic development.
During the armed struggle, such tasks have often been taken up by
combatants or by informal grassroots organizations. In some local
communities, indigenous forms of conflict resolution have been able to
replace state-based judicial and administrative processes for settling
local disputes. In others, an alternatives system for settling disputes has
been established by the controlling combatant organization. In many
self-declared peace communities, peace committees have been set up
specifically to deal with intra-community disputes between individuals,
families, and rival groups.
However, it seems not unlikely that in the immediate post-
agreement stage of any national accord, one new set of problems to be
dealt with at the local level will be conflicts likely to arise between
organizations established by the local community during the absence of
the state and the returning state agencies.9

Coping with Return

Closely linked to the whole issue of post-agreement security, and the
expectation that places previously seen as highly dangerous are now
safe, is the whole issue of post-agreement return. Basically, this can
involve peasants, farmers, local bureaucrats and politicians, teachers,
medical workers, property owners, and former combatants. Many will
be going back to from where they were driven, either by widespread
violence, by being directly threatened, or by being physically driven
away by one or other of the armed actors.
 This whole process of “return” can involve a variety of challenges for
local communities depending on the nature of the returnees and their
needs and expectations. The first challenge can arise as part of the
Disarmament, Demobilisation, Rehabilitation & Reinsertion (D.D.R.R.)
provisions typically built into a peace agreement and concerned with
demobilization and reinsertion of now disarmed combatants. In some
cases, the reintegration process is carried out gradually, on an
individual basis, but this is difficult to implement when dealing with
large numbers. Hence, a peace agreement will often call for former
guerrillas or former paramilitaries to be returned to civilian life via
temporary camps or communities, deliberately kept separate from
existing towns and villages.10
“New settlement” strategies11 obviously have enormous problems
of their own. However, they do avoid—at least temporarily—others
which arise from former combatants—and sometimes rival combatants
—returning to or being settled within existing communities. Local
communities will often retain vivid collective memories of past
harassment, violence, destruction, and death by those very former
combatants, or at least by members of other units from their
organization. This is another aspect of “the security problem” but it
overlaps with dilemmas concerned with reparation and reconciliation.
For local people, the challenge of returning or resettled combatants
can be further complicated by the varied nature of these combatants
and their very different needs. Young men, who have known very little
in their lives save the hardships and dangers of being guerrillas, at the
least need retraining for non-combatant life. In the absence of some
local scheme for smooth reinsertion of male combatants, at least some
of the latter are likely to return to any available roles that can use the
lethal skills that they already possess—security guards or local
protection for businesses—or to rewarding, if illegal activities. Further
pressure will be put on the resources of local communities if many of
the returning former fighters are disabled and in need of specialized
care for physical and psychological handicaps.
Quite different needs can be displayed by women ex-combatants,
whose life away from usually traditional homes frequently stigmatizes
them in the eyes of their own and other communities. This “cultural
gap” can make their return extremely hard—unless this is carefully
arranged on an individual basis via their original family.12 In some
cases, one local answer is for them to organize as a group to learn skills
or to establish some successful economic enterprise with local women’s
groups, but limited resources often prevent success.
Finally, there is the problem of minors, or child soldiers, who may
have volunteered to join combatant groups or been forcibly recruited.
These “returnees” may not have participated directly in violence, but
have undertaken roles as guards, collecting information from local
communities; carrying out patrols; acting as nurses; burying or
removing landmines; carrying arms, ammunition, and other burdens;
providing sexual services; or undertaking any number of organizational
tasks to keep combat continuing. Whatever their experience, like other
combatants their successful reinsertion requires them first to leave
their military identity behind and acquire a new identity as a civilian.
This process is most difficult with former child soldiers who often
know no other identity, and it requires them to abandon their familiar
military networks and become part of new civilian social networks in a
new community. This, of course, puts another burden on local
communities who can be required to provide services such as
education, security, peer group support, psychological help, health care,
and financial support—all necessary if young returnees are not to
revert and rejoin an armed group.
Apart from problems for local communities arising from returning
ex-combatants, a second major challenge arising from the whole issue
of people coming back to their previous homes is simply a matter of
numbers. How does a community cope with large-scale, rapid return
arising from the conclusion of a peace agreement and the perception,
however temporary, that it is safe to go back home? Regarding any
possible “peace dividend”, how are promised post-agreement services
to be provided if the returnees do not include in their number the
necessary schoolteachers, para-medics, nurses, and craftsmen—often
the very people who have been targeted by armed groups and thus less
likely to return?
Lastly, post-agreement communities frequently face dilemmas
arising from conflicts between returnees and those who stayed—or
those who arrived later from elsewhere and occupied vacant places left
behind when the original owners fled. Such problems of ownership can
be particularly acute when the local conflict has been going on a long
time and the original community members absent for a considerable
period. Disputes over titles to land and dwellings between returnees
and stayers or acquirers seem to be particularly common in many
communities, especially when an original if long absent landowner has
owned large areas of productive land and returned to find peasant
farmers displaced from elsewhere using parts of the property for
subsistence farming. The situation can be further complicated when
land has been sold several times and passed through the hands of a
variety of “legitimate” owners, even if the first seller simply acquired
the property by chasing off the original owners through the threat or
use of force.

Truth-Telling, Memorials, and Local Memories

It has become a standard practice that any peace agreement ending an
intra-state conflict will contain some provision for a truth commission,
involving revelation and a record of human rights violations carried out
by all sides during the violence. At the national level, one major
objective of this process is to give those who have suffered—the victims
—the opportunity to tell their stories before as wide an audience as
possible, to have their hurt and loss recognized publicly, and to be
linked to some form of compensation, usually provided by the
incumbent authorities. Another key aspect of this truth-telling process
is for those who have committed all but the most extreme human rights
violations—the perpetrators—to be given the chance to confront their
victims, to acknowledge their deeds publicly, and to express some level
of remorse. Such admitted perpetrators thus avoid the alternative of
facing a retributive procedure in some formal court, which could result
in a long jail sentence.
Given that many intra-state conflicts go on for a very long time and
provide many opportunities for gross human rights violations by all
combatants, this procedure avoids the necessity of running literally
thousands of accused perpetrators through a lengthy legal procedure
and through a court system ill prepared to deal with a huge number of
cases arising from many years of often vicious rural and urban warfare.
National-level truth-telling has thus become the post-agreement
process for coping with widespread examples of killings, massacres,
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
demandent pas mieux que de passer inaperçues et qui, de fait, ne
comptent pas dans une division — si ce n’est, hélas ! à table…
Comme ils ne gênent personne, on ne les taquine pas, et leur
éducation se poursuit sans encombre, s’achèvera sans bruit et se
couronnera vraisemblablement par un bon petit mariage chrétien. Ils
seront d’excellents pères de famille, maires de leur commune, et de
très fermes soutiens de la bonne cause. C’est ce qu’on nous dit pour
nous empêcher parfois de leur former le caractère en les houspillant.
La seconde espèce se voit plus rarement au lycée : ce sont les
petites moules, les moules fines, gentilles, délicates, anges ou
demoiselles, qu’on a peur de casser en les heurtant et qui ont peur
elles-mêmes de se fêler en remuant trop vivement. Enfants de
bonnes familles plus ou moins aristocratiques, élevés doucement,
tendrement, par des femmes, chétifs de santé, habitués dès
l’enfance à toutes les attentions et à tous les ménagements. Timides
et gauches, ils se réfugient volontiers dans le règlement, parce qu’il
les protège, et s’accrochent instinctivement aux soutanes des
surveillants par ressouvenir des jupes maternelles. Ce sont les
innocents de la division : on ne les qualifie pas plus durement, parce
qu’ils tiennent assez souvent la tête des classes et que les élèves
gardent toujours le respect de la supériorité intellectuelle. Mais en
récréation, où l’intelligence compte beaucoup moins que les
aptitudes physiques, malheur aux innocents qui se font tirer l’oreille
pour prendre part au jeu, ou qui, par maladresse, font perdre leur
camp ! On se charge alors, par charité pure, de leur administrer
verbo et opere une trempe fraternelle qui, à la longue, ne peut
manquer de produire sur leur tempérament un effet salutaire : car
avec des gens intelligents il y a toujours de la ressource. Les
surveillants regardent faire, du coin de l’œil, et n’interviennent qu’au
moment où le dégourdissage menace de tourner en abus de la
force.
Les petites moules, dans leur timidité maladive, sont du moins
simples, modestes, bons enfants en général : je les préfère cent fois
à l’exécrable engeance des poseurs avec leur taille toujours
cambrée et leur cou d’oie emprisonné à l’anglaise dans un immense
carcan de gélatine, suant la pommade et la morgue par tous les
pores de leur précieuse personne. Ils sont, Dieu merci ! peu
nombreux et n’ont pas même assez d’esprit pour voir combien ils
sont ridicules. Je me rappelle avoir lu quelque part qu’on cesserait
d’être bête, si l’on pouvait arriver à croire qu’on l’est. Ces poseurs
n’en sont pas encore là : ils se tiennent pour des gens de valeur,
parce qu’ils se croient des gens comme il faut, et ils écrasent de leur
pitié les pauvres mortels qui se piquent, non pas d’être à la mode du
jour, mais de préparer sérieusement leur avenir, et qui, dans cet
avenir, voient autre chose que des courses, des chasses ou des
parties de plaisir. Les pauvres sots ! On la leur rend avec usure, leur
pitié… Mais ça ne les changera pas.
Quelques-uns pourtant ne manquent pas de moyens : ceux-là
constituent, dans le genre poseur, l’espèce des pédants. Il y a ici un
rhétoricien qui en est le type achevé. Parce qu’il a trois poils au
menton, il joue l’oracle perpétuel : il a tout vu, tout lu. Du haut de ses
quatre pieds six pouces, il juge souverainement les hommes et les
œuvres, surtout les plus modernes, qu’il connaît à fond pour en avoir
entendu parler pendant les vacances. Il a un oncle qui est
académicien — de province, mais en attendant mieux — et dès lors
on conçoit que le neveu ne peut pas être un esprit ordinaire. Il
semble bien l’entendre ainsi : que faire à cela ? Notre professeur, qui
le connaît bien, ne manque pas les occasions de le rappeler à la
modestie et au bon sens : le petit bonhomme baisse son nez
retroussé, puis, l’orage fini, le redresse plus impertinent que jamais.
Est-ce de l’orgueil ? Je croirais plutôt que c’est une manie, provenant
d’un culte exagéré pour le grand homme son oncle. Nous l’avons
baptisé lui-même le grand homme : il fait semblant d’en être flatté,
mais ça le vexe, et, ce qui vaut mieux, ça l’oblige quelquefois à se
taire.
Si tu es un peu surpris de tous ces méchants portraits, je te dirai
que nous étudions en ce moment La Bruyère, pour lequel je
m’avoue un petit faible. Et, comme mes vieilles habitudes de
caricaturiste se trouvent contrariées par le règlement des Jésuites, je
me rattrape comme je puis, sous le beau prétexte d’amour de l’art.
 C’est peut-être mal.
Quoi qu’il en soit, après avoir lu ce qui précède, je t’entends crier
vertueusement au scandale : « Quoi ! Chez les bons Pères, on
admet ces défauts-là ? On tolère des petites et des grosses moules,
des poseurs et des pédants ? Cela renverse toutes les idées
courantes sur la réputation éducatrice des Jésuites. »
C’est exactement ce que, dans mon indignation de néophyte, j’ai
objecté à mon sage ami Jean. Il m’a répondu : « Mon gros (c’est sa
façon de m’appeler, quand il va me dire des choses aimables), ça
me fait de la peine de te voir si borné. Trouve donc moyen de
rallonger un peu ton nez pour reculer tes horizons.
— Merci.
— Il n’y a pas de quoi. Mais, dis-moi, quand tu es entré ici, étais-
tu parfait ?
— Dame ! non. Je ne le suis même pas encore.
— Ah ! Habemus confitentem reum. Et pourquoi t’y a-t-on
amené ?
— Maison de correction.
— Et si, après ton entrée, voyant que tu n’étais point parfait, on
t’avait, pour te corriger, fourré sommairement à la porte ?
— Tu n’aurais pas en ce moment le plaisir délicat de me faire
poser.
— Soyons sérieux. Aurait-on bien fait ?
— On aurait eu grand tort, parce que je ne me serais jamais
consolé de perdre tes salutaires leçons, soutenues par de si
admirables exemples.
— Vil flatteur ! Ça remonte bien plus haut que moi. Il faut
remercier tes maîtres et les miens, dont l’indulgence t’a fait crédit du
temps nécessaire à ton amélioration et dont le dévouement patient,
vigilant, inconfusible, travaille sans relâche, sans même que tu t’en
aperçoives, à achever en toi l’œuvre commencée par ta bonne
volonté avec l’aide de Dieu. Comprends-tu ?
 — Jean, l’un de nous deux est une bête… et ce n’est pas toi !
Voici ma patte. Merci. »

Paul.

16. Au même.

5 décembre.

Mon cher Louis,

Ce que tu réclames de mon prétendu talent d’observation est un

vrai travail ! Tu ne songes pas que mes lettres sont le meilleur de
mon repos, mais à condition que ma plume ait la bride sur le cou,
comme celle de la marquise (sans comparaison). Si tu veux
m’obliger à prendre le petit pas et la route pavée, je préférerais faire
du grec, qui, sous la baguette magique de mon professeur,
commence à perdre pour moi son horrifique laideur de langue morte.
Sais-tu que Démosthène est un fier lutteur et Homère un bonhomme
incomparable, et qu’on gagne à les connaître tous deux ?
Mais, puisque tu y tiens, je vais essayer de te décrire le
mécanisme de ma jésuitière, pour autant que je l’ai vu fonctionner
depuis près de trois mois.
Ab Jove principium. Le Jupiter, ici, ce n’est pas le P. Recteur, du
moins pour les élèves. Il représente pour eux presque une divinité
cachée, quelque chose comme l’antique Destin, qui se contente de
régler souverainement la marche des choses, mais n’exécute pas
lui-même ses arrêts. C’est le P. Préfet qui tonne et qui rayonne, qui
fait la pluie et le beau temps, qui puise dans les deux tonneaux
olympiens et distribue avec équité le sucre des récompenses et le
poivre sec des châtiments. Le P. Recteur se réserve seulement le
droit de grâce et les faveurs plus insignes ; il préside les séances
solennelles à la grande salle, attache les croix d’honneur sur la
poitrine des premiers de classe, chaque semaine, et donne
quelquefois, toujours trop rarement, des congés supplémentaires.
Essentiellement bon prince, il s’en faut pourtant que ce soit un roi
fainéant. Il voit tout, par ses yeux ou par ceux d’autrui ; il sait tout
(par son petit doigt, dit-on aux gosses), jusqu’à stupéfier quelquefois
tel coupable qui se croyait profondément ignoré. Bref, sans presque
paraître, on sent qu’il est l’âme partout présente du collège. Ses
décisions sont d’ailleurs sans appel. Quand le P. Préfet ou le F.
Portier vous ont répondu que le P. Recteur n’est pas d’avis, tout est
dit. J’aime cela, parce qu’on sait à quoi s’en tenir.
Pour en revenir au P. Préfet, il est, contrairement au P. Recteur,
l’homme qu’on voit partout. Pas un mouvement d’ensemble ne se
fait sans qu’il y préside ou en surveille l’exécution : cela garantit
l’ordre général. Mais, de plus, il entre dans les mille détails de la vie
journalière, réglant les heures des classes et des leçons d’agrément,
les jeux et les bains de pieds, la hauteur des cols de chemise et la
couleur des cravates, les arrêts et les retenues. Il est vrai que pour
la partie matérielle il se fait aider par le P. Sous-Préfet, mais il garde
toute la responsabilité. C’est sa griffe qui, imprimée sur le billet jaune
qu’on appelle admittatur, constitue le mot de passe pour obtenir un
mouchoir du F. Linger ou une tisane du F. Infirmier, pour être admis
en classe sans devoir ou sans leçon le lendemain d’une migraine,
pour faire le moindre pas en dehors de sa division. Sans ce précieux
papier, on est sûr de rencontrer, juste au coin où on ne l’attendait
pas, un impitoyable surveillant général, vulgairement rôdeur, qui
vous renvoie d’où vous venez, avec une tartine de pensum ou
d’arrêts.
D’après cela, tu vas penser que le P. Préfet inspire aux élèves le
sentiment que certain ogre inspirait au petit Poucet et à ses frères ?
Pour les cancres, c’est possible ; pour les sages, non. Car il y a chez
lui deux hommes absolument différents : l’homme public, qui est
souvent obligé de faire figure de bois pour le maintien de la
discipline, et l’homme privé, qui, dans l’intimité de sa cellule, peut
laisser agir et parler son cœur. J’en ai fait récemment l’expérience.
Un des professeurs d’accessoires s’étant plaint que j’avais l’air de ne
pas le respecter, le P. Préfet me fit comparaître. Je lui avouai qu’en
effet le ton doctoral de ce monsieur et sa manie de friser
perpétuellement ses moustaches (c’est un laïc) me donnaient parfois
sur les nerfs : de là, quelques sourires mal cachés par moi et
quelques paroles qui pouvaient sentir l’impatience. J’en fus quitte
pour une semonce paternelle et pour la promesse de surveiller un
peu mieux mes nerfs.
Un règlement affiché au parloir avertit les parents que, pour
savoir à quoi s’en tenir sur la conduite et les progrès de leur fils, ils
doivent s’adresser au P. Recteur ou au P. Préfet. Cela paraît sage ;
car eux seuls tiennent en main tous les éléments d’une juste
appréciation : notes et compositions, éloges et plaintes des maîtres,
explications bonnes ou mauvaises des élèves. L’opinion qu’ils se
font ainsi de chacun d’entre nous a de sérieuses chances d’être
vraie et complète, surtout chez le P. Recteur, qui contrôle et juge en
dernière instance.
Cette suprême garantie de justice, à laquelle chacun est toujours
libre de faire appel, est parfaitement appréciée des élèves, et, grâce
à elle, la personne sacro-sainte du P. Recteur jouit d’un respect
universel. Il vient tout de suite après le bon Dieu, peut-être même
avant chez certains : car le bon Dieu est loin, tandis que le P.
Recteur est là tout près — et a le bras joliment long !
La suite au prochain temps libre. Tu ne dis pas merci ?
Ton ami,

Paul.

17. Au même.

14 décembre.
 Mon cher ami,

Hier jeudi, par exception, on nous a donné promenade, parce

qu’il pleuvait les jours précédents : on avait oublié que c’est le jour
de congé du lycée, ou peut-être n’avait-on pu faire autrement.
Comme les belles routes de ce pays se réduisent à un fort petit
nombre, il y a eu des rencontres.
D’abord, une division de gosses, futurs premiers communiants
sans doute, avec un bon petit air d’innocence encore intacte. Les
premiers rangs ont gentiment ôté leur képi devant le P. Surveillant
qui nous conduisait ; les suivants ont fait de même et le pion aussi.
Nous avons tous rendu le salut. C’était touchant de fraternité et j’ai
eu un petit éclair de fierté pour mes anciens condisciples. J’en ai été
vite puni.
A trois cents pas plus loin, nous croisons une division de grands
comme nous. Aucun ne salua le Père. On passa les uns à côté des
autres, en se regardant au blanc des yeux, sans rien se dire. Mais à
peine les lycéens eurent-ils dépassé notre dernier rang, où marchait
le second surveillant, qu’ils se retournèrent et lancèrent un
formidable couac, puis un second, sans que leur pion en prît le
moindre souci. C’était grand, n’est-ce pas, et brave !
Plusieurs des nôtres, tout frémissants de colère, crièrent au P.
Surveillant : « Mon Père, faut-il cogner ? » J’ai compris qu’il
répondait : « Vous leur feriez trop d’honneur. » J’ai trouvé que ce
dédain était mérité. On obéit, non sans effort, et l’on se contenta de
dauber sur la bonne éducation des potaches.
Si le Père avait permis de cogner, ma foi ! j’aurais cogné comme
tout le monde. Je n’ai jamais insulté un prêtre : c’est lâche et bête.
Je dois même avouer que j’aurais eu un plaisir tout spécial à faire au
pion, de son chapeau, un collier.
L’aventure n’a point fait de tort à nos surveillants, déjà très
respectés et très populaires. Ces deux adjectifs, qui ont un peu l’air
de jurer ensemble, expriment pourtant la vérité rigoureuse. Cela tient
à cette même fermeté, tempérée de bonté, dont je t’ai parlé l’autre
jour. Elle n’est pas le partage exclusif de tel de nos maîtres : c’est,
avec des nuances, leur caractère commun et la base évidente de
tout leur système d’éducation. Jean me dit que leur sévérité sur la
discipline vient de saint Ignace leur fondateur, qui a été soldat, et de
leurs habitudes de régularité monastique. Quant à la bonté qui s’y
mêle, il n’y a point à en chercher la source ailleurs que dans leur
cœur de prêtre et dans leur fervent et constant désir de nous rendre
meilleurs. Nous sommes la raison même de leur vocation — leur
croix et leur joie, disait l’un d’eux — et pour résumer tout, mon cher,
on sent qu’ils nous aiment.
Ici, pas la moindre trace de ce formalisme officiel qui se traduit au
lycée, dans toutes les grandes circonstances, tristes ou joyeuses,
par la froide appellation de jeunes élèves ! L’effet, je t’assure, est tout
autre, quand, après une de ces proclamations de notes qui se font
en public, devant maîtres, élèves et parents, au jour de la sortie
générale du mois, le P. Recteur commence son allocution par ces
simples mots : « Mes chers enfants ! » Il n’est pas besoin d’effort
pour sentir du premier coup que c’est le père de famille qui va parler,
et que toutes ses paroles, éloges, blâmes, conseils, lui seront
dictées par l’affection. Aussi elles vont droit aux cœurs, dont elles
remuent les meilleures fibres.
Tu devines maintenant que la maxime de l’âne de la Fontaine :

Notre ennemi, c’est notre maître,

n’a pas grand cours ici et n’y trouve guère d’applications. L’affection
appelle l’affection et la bonté engendre le bon esprit. Il existe
naturellement des degrés dans la sympathie des élèves pour leurs
différents maîtres ; à côté des pères, il y a des oncles ou de simples
cousins : mais avec tous, jeunes et vieux, on est à son aise. On ne
songe pas à éviter leur rencontre : c’est au contraire une bonne
fortune d’en accrocher un par hasard dans un corridor et d’en
recevoir un mot aimable. Je dormirais mal, si le soir, en passant
devant mon surveillant de dortoir, je ne pouvais lui dire un : Bonsoir,
mon Père, et s’il ne me répondait : Bonsoir, mon fils. Il y a deux
jours, n’étant pas content de ma tenue en allant au réfectoire, il m’a
appelé Ker tout court : j’en ai perdu l’appétit au dîner — et pourtant
c’était jour de frites !… Mais sais-tu seulement ce que c’est que nos
frites ? Est-ce qu’on songe à vous donner des frites au lycée ? Il y
faudrait pour le moins un ou deux décrets ministériels. Tu n’as rien
vu, mon cher, et rien mangé de bon !
Il faut dire que notre premier surveillant est la meilleure pâte
d’homme qu’on puisse rêver : gros, rond, franc, tout d’une pièce,
aimant à rire, sauf quand il s’agit du réglement et des convenances.
Aussi n’a-t-il qu’à lever le doigt pour être compris et obéi. Il est
prêtre, confesseur très couru de la division voisine, prédicateur très
apprécié des élèves et musicien remarquable.
Son collègue est beaucoup plus jeune, notre aîné de quelques
années, vif, ardent, un pétard toujours prêt à partir, bon et beau
joueur, souple et nerveux : à la tête d’une partie de barres ou de
drapeau, il est d’une crânerie superbe avec sa soutane et ses
manches retroussées, ses poings en arrêt, son œil fulgurant. Il faut
voir comme il enlève son monde à l’assaut d’une position ennemie !
C’est un délire de bravoure, qui, derrière lui, précipite la moitié de la
division, et l’autre moitié est vaincue d’avance, à moins d’une lutte
absolument désespérée. Nous avons failli déjà le porter en triomphe.
Il s’ingénie de mille manières à varier nos petits plaisirs en cour,
en promenade. A la dernière sortie, les élèves dont les parents
n’avaient pu venir (j’en étais) sont partis avec lui dès le matin pour
une excursion dans la montagne. Musique militaire, composée d’un
clairon et de plusieurs mirlitons ; pique-nique près d’une source
limpide ; chants et joyeux devis jusqu’à la nuit tombante. L’un de
nous s’étant un peu blessé, le surveillant le soigna avec une
sollicitude de maman-gâteau. Comment veux-tu qu’on ne s’attache
pas du fond de l’âme à des hommes qui identifient ainsi leur vie avec
la nôtre ? Et quand ensuite, l’heure venue, le surveillant donne son
coup de sonnette qui rappelle au devoir sérieux, ou quand il vous
demande, au nom de la règle, un de ces mille petits efforts qui
constituent la vie d’écolier, comment veux-tu qu’on le refuse ? Ce
serait de l’ingratitude. Pour ma part, lorsqu’il est mon adversaire à la
balle au camp, je cale dessus sans scrupule et sans ménagement :
c’est le jeu, la bonne guerre. Mais, si j’avais le malheur de lui causer
en n’importe quoi la moindre peine, je n’attendrais pas une minute
pour lui demander mon pardon.
Voilà pour les surveillants. Avec les professeurs nos relations
sont encore plus faciles et plus agréables, du moins quand on
appartient, comme je m’en flatte, à la catégorie des travailleurs
sérieux. Les surveillants, chargés d’assurer l’ordre et la discipline en
récréation, au réfectoire, au dortoir, partout, du matin jusqu’au soir,
et du soir jusqu’au matin, ont une tâche complexe et souvent, quoi
qu’ils fassent, ingrate : l’homme extérieur échappe plus facilement à
l’influence de l’autorité qui veut le former ou le réformer. Le
professeur s’adresse à l’intelligence : il a ainsi, avec le rôle brillant,
une prise bien autrement puissante sur tout l’homme. L’homme, c’est
son style : quand un élève est obligé, tous les jours, pendant un an
ou davantage, de livrer par écrit le fond et la forme de sa pensée sur
tous les sujets imaginables, il se livre lui-même, avec son fort et son
faible. Se sent-on faible, on s’accroche au professeur comme le
naufragé à l’unique planche de salut, et alors s’établissent tout
naturellement des rapports de secourable condescendance, d’une
part, et de reconnaissante confiance, de l’autre.
Cela ne doit pas être gai tous les jours, pour le professeur, si l’on
en juge par les efforts inouïs d’ingénieuse patience que nous le
voyons dépenser, souvent en pure perte, pour faire entrer des
choses rudimentaires dans quelque cerveau rebelle ; car ici, mon
ami, on s’occupe de tout le monde, des premiers et des derniers,
selon la seule bonne volonté de chacun. C’est donc bien le moins,
quand on a la chance de compter parmi les forts, de dédommager
quelque peu le pauvre professeur par une tenue et une application
sans reproche : nous tâchons de le faire.
Il nous le rend dans ces charmantes réunions académiques, où il
convoque régulièrement l’élite de la classe pour quelque travail
supplémentaire, pour une lecture intéressante, une causerie
littéraire, et qui se terminent quelquefois — voudras-tu le croire ? —
par l’épuisement… d’une boîte de dragées, offerte au Père en
souvenir du baptême d’un de nos petits frères et qu’il nous offre à
son tour. Tu conçois bien que ce n’est pas la dragée qui fait plaisir :
c’est de la croquer en famille.
Après cela, tu es libre de m’appeler fanatique. Mais là, entre
nous deux, s’il prenait envie demain à mon brave papa de me
renvoyer au lycée de Z…, ὦ πόποι! Quelle culbute je ferais ! Celle
du petit Vulcain, qui tomba de l’Olympe pendant neuf jours de suite,
ne serait rien en comparaison.
Pardonne mon impertinente franchise.
Ton ami,

Paul.

18. Au même.

22 décembre.

Mon cher Louis,

Il vient de m’arriver une histoire désagréable qui aurait pu avoir

un dénouement tragique. Je veux te la conter, pour pénitence.
J’ai un faible que tu connais : sans rime ni raison, je fais encore
quelquefois des vers. Ce serait une manie bien innocente, vu la
qualité de mes produits, si je bornais ma verve soi-disant poétique à
des sujets inoffensifs, cantiques, pastorales, ou épopée. Mais,
quelque diable sans doute me poussant, il se trouve que mes
préférences décidées vont à la satire. Quand je vois certaines gens
qui font certaines choses, j’enrage et j’ai envie de mordre, comme un
vulgaire toutou. C’est un fort vilain défaut : vais-je m’en corriger,
après la leçon que j’ai reçue ? Je le souhaite, mais je crains que ça
ne soit dans le sang.
 Donc, avant-hier, le petit grand homme dont je t’ai parlé posait,
faisait de l’épate, devant quelques illustres membres de la confrérie
des grosses moules. Il s’agissait de son poète favori : il est
hugolâtre. Je ne déteste pas Victor Hugo : si les poètes sont tous
plus ou moins fous, lui, c’est un fou puissant. Ainsi pense notre
professeur. Le grand homme de quatre pieds six pouces admet la
puissance, mais non la folie, et, au moment où je passais, il
déclamait avec un lyrisme tout à fait convaincu la lugubre rencontre
de l’âne et du crapaud martyrisé par des gamins. Les autres béaient
d’admiration, comme des huîtres à marée montante. Je haussai les
épaules : il s’en aperçut et se mordit les lèvres.
Mais je fis mieux, c’est-à-dire plus mal. Rentré à l’étude, j’utilisai
un moment de loisir à aiguiser une épigramme qui se terminait par
ces deux vers :

Royal dindon qui fait sa roue

Devant sa cour d’oisons.

Pas bien méchants, n’est-il pas vrai ? Et puis les vers sont des vers :
on ne les prend pas à la lettre. Malheureusement ils circulèrent ; un
artiste malicieux les aggrava, en y adaptant un air connu, et, à la
récréation suivante, quinze élèves le fredonnèrent, l’un après l’autre,
au nez de mon grand homme. Au quinzième, il perdit patience, vint
droit à moi, qui ne lui disais rien, et essaya de me cracher au visage.
Dame ! je répondis du tac au tac — et sa joue claqua. Il cria :
« Lâche ! » et esquissa un coup de pied, qui ne réussit point :
seconde claque. Alors le pauvret se mit à pleurer. Cela me calma
net.
Mais le mal était fait et le feu dans la ruche, je veux dire dans la
division. La majorité des élèves, par antipathie pour l’autre, tenaient
pour moi : quelques-uns, les oisons, m’en voulaient. J’allais devenir
un brandon de discorde, l’auteur d’une guerre civile.
Les deux surveillants, qui, au fond (je m’en doutais bien),
n’étaient pas trop fâchés de la leçon donnée au royal dindon, mais
qui regrettaient l’esclandre, se consultèrent ; puis le vieux vint me
dire : « Paul, je ne veux pas apprécier votre conduite : mon devoir
est d’en référer au P. Préfet. » Je voulus me justifier : « Non, fit-il
doucement ; ce n’est pas le lieu ni le moment : je crains que vous ne
soyez pas encore assez maître de vous pour bien voir les choses.
Allez trouver votre Père spirituel : il vous dira ce que vous devez
penser et ce que vous devez faire. On n’en parlera qu’après au P.
Préfet. »
J’obéis sans difficulté. Le Père spirituel m’écouta, comme
toujours, avec attention et bienveillance. Quand j’eus tout loyalement
raconté :
« Mon fils, dit-il gravement, êtes-vous fier de ce que vous avez
fait ? »
J’avais grande envie de répondre que oui : je ne sais pourquoi je
n’en eus pas le courage. Le Père continua :
« Qui de vous deux était le plus fort ? »
Voyant venir le coup, je pris la tangente :
« Pouvais-je me laisser cracher à la figure sans châtier ce bout
d’homme rageur ?
— Peut-être que non. Mais à qui la faute, si le bout d’homme
rageait ? A sa place, ridiculisé et chansonné publiquement, auriez-
vous gardé votre sang-froid ? »
Je répondis par un signe de tête négatif.
« Eh bien, mon fils, de quel droit demandez-vous à d’autres un
effort dont vous ne vous sentez pas vous-même capable ?… Cet
enfant a eu tort de vous insulter comme il l’a fait ; mais, évidemment,
il ne se possédait pas — et il avait été provoqué. » Le Père insista :
« Il avait été provoqué. »
Je comprenais trop bien ce qu’il voulait dire et ne pouvais nier
qu’il eût raison : sans mon épigramme, rien ne serait arrivé. Je
baissai la tête et attendis mon arrêt. Il reprit :
« Vous êtes venu pour savoir mon avis ?
— Oui.
 — Et vous voulez que je vous le dise franchement ?
— Oui.
— Eh bien, vous devez à votre condisciple et à toute la division
une réparation. »
Et comme je me révoltais :
« Mon fils, je ne vous l’impose pas, je n’en ai pas le droit ; mais je
l’attends de votre loyauté de cœur et de votre bon sens. Et pour
avoir le courage de demander pardon aux hommes, venez d’abord
demander votre pardon à Dieu. »
Ce disant, il m’attira doucement à son prie-Dieu, s’agenouilla à
côté de moi devant son pauvre Christ de cuivre et prononça d’une
voix où tremblait un peu d’émotion : Seigneur, pardonnez-nous nos
offenses, comme nous pardonnons à ceux qui nous ont offensés. »
Je te laisse à deviner ce qui suivit.
Le même jour, après la classe du soir, pendant que la division
silencieuse entrait dans la cour sur deux rangs, je sortis de ma place
et m’avançant vers ma victime, je dis très haut :
« N…, je te fais mes excuses pour les ennuis que je t’ai causés ;
je les regrette et te prie, devant tous nos camarades, de me
pardonner. »
Il prit la main que je lui tendais et la serra avec une vivacité qui
me donna bonne opinion de son cœur : « Merci », dit-il, et un peu
plus bas il ajouta : « Pardonne-moi aussi. »
Sur ce dernier mot, que je n’attendais pas, tout ce que j’avais
contre lui s’envola ; je l’embrassai franchement, la division applaudit
et nous célébrâmes tous ensemble la fin de la guerre civile par une
partie de ballon trois fois plus joyeuse que toutes les précédentes.
Le P. Préfet, averti par le Père spirituel, n’eut pas le temps
d’intervenir, et, je crois, n’en eut pas de regret : nulle mesure
disciplinaire ne pouvait produire un effet aussi rapide et aussi
complet. Je me rends fort bien compte que, dans la circonstance,
personne autre que mon directeur de conscience n’eût obtenu de
mon amour-propre un acte de réparation : devant une sommation
officielle, j’aurais cassé, mais non plié.
Tu vois à quoi sert, en dehors même du confessionnal, un Père
spirituel. Il est le tampon qui amortit ou prévient les gros accidents,
comme dans mon cas ; il est, en tout temps, le médiateur naturel
entre les faiblesses du jeune âge et les rigueurs du Code pénal
écolier. Les professeurs et surveillants sont des pères, sans doute,
mais aussi des maîtres : gants de velours, mains de fer. Lui n’est
que père : il n’a que du velours.
Et pourtant — je t’en reparlerai peut-être — ce velours a
quelquefois d’assez rudes passes : il le faut, quand on veut être loyal
avec soi-même. J’ai dans mon directeur une confiance absolue : il
me connaît de fond en comble. Il a été convenu entre nous que je ne
lui cacherais rien et qu’il ne me passerait rien : car je veux me faire
un caractère, et, sans lui, je n’y arriverais jamais.
Toi, mon bon, qui est-ce qui te rabroue, te relève et te soutient ?
Je sais que tu ne hantes pas beaucoup l’aumônier : tu serais mal vu
— et un aumônier pour trois ou quatre cents élèves n’a pas le temps
de s’occuper beaucoup de chacun. Je te plains ; car je t’assure que
c’est bon, par moment, d’avoir son déversoir. Adieu, Louis.

Ton ami,

Paul.

19. De ma sœur Jeanne.

4 janvier.

Mon petit frère chéri,

 Je ne veux pas attendre à demain pour te dire, sous le secret de
la confession, que papa est revenu ce soir enchanté de toi et de tout
ce qu’il a vu et entendu au collège. Quand maman lui a demandé
comment il t’avait trouvé, il a répondu : « Pas reconnaissable. C’est
maintenant un garçon rangé, parfaitement rangé, et intelligent. Je
n’aurais pas cru ! »
Tu juges si maman était contente. Pour allonger son plaisir et le
mien, elle a fait parler papa, qui de sa vie ne s’est montré aussi
communicatif :
« Est-ce qu’il n’a plus ses petits airs mauvais, vous savez, quand
on le contrariait un peu ?
— Rien, plus rien. J’ai essayé deux fois, dans le courant de la
sortie, de le taquiner : il n’a pas bronché. Les Jésuites l’ont dompté.
— Il avait peut-être peur de vous ?
— Lui ? Jamais il n’a été aussi affectueux. Il m’a raconté toutes
ses petites affaires : il cause très bien. Je l’ai laissé commander
notre dîner à l’hôtel : il s’est rappelé tous les plats que j’aime. Et ce
qu’il y a de plus fort… Tu sais quelle moue désagréable il nous
grimaçait, quand nous avions ici de la tête de veau, dont je raffole et
où il ne touchait jamais ? Eh bien, il m’en a fait servir et il en a
mangé, tout comme moi, sans l’ombre d’un dégoût. Tout le temps,
d’ailleurs, il a été pour moi aux petits soins.
— En quoi faisant ? » demandai-je.
— « Par exemple, pour leur comédie, il s’est ingénié à me trouver
la meilleure place, une première, d’où je n’ai perdu ni un mot ni un
geste.
— Oh ! » hasardai-je avec intention, « il a fait ça par coquetterie,
pour être vu dans son rôle ! »
Cela me valut un regard… Brrr !
— « Tu ne seras jamais qu’une petite sotte. Va le dire à tes
Ursulines ! »
Tu te rappelles qu’après ce gros mot-là, il est toujours prudent
pour moi de ne pas pousser plus loin mes plaisanteries. Maman se
hâta d’intervenir :
« A-t-il bien joué ?
— Je ne devrais pas le dire… Ces jeunes gens, ma foi ! ont un
jeu fort naturel, agréable, distingué ; mais il m’a semblé que Paul les
dépassait tous, sauf peut-être un seul, Jean X…
— Ils ne font qu’un, » dis-je.
— « En tout cas, ils font une belle paire d’acteurs, mon fils dans
le rôle du valet Scapin, Jean dans celui de M. Géronte.
— Vous avez fait connaissance avec ce Jean X…?
— Paul me l’a présenté comme son ami et son mentor : c’est un
jeune homme parfait et je souhaite que mon fils lui ressemble. Il
paraît que c’est le coq de la division des grands élèves, préfet de je
ne sais plus quel département.
— Du département de la Congrégation ?
— Possible. A ce titre, je l’ai entendu débiter au P. Recteur, au
nom de tout le collège, un compliment de bonne année fort bien
tourné et plein de beaux sentiments. Ces messieurs ont l’air de
s’entendre à développer le cœur des jeunes gens.
— Comme les Ursulines.
— Avec une petite différence que le P. Recteur, dans sa réponse,
a nettement accentuée : « Vous dites, mes enfants, que vous nous
aimez, que vous aimez vos parents, et je vous crois, parce que vous
avez le cœur bon. Cela suffit-il ? Pour des femmes peut-être… »
Vous entendez, mademoiselle ?… « Pour des hommes, non. Il faut
que vous ayez le cœur fort et que votre amour, dépassant le
domaine du pur sentiment, s’affirme par l’énergie des actes. » Et il
leur a déduit les applications pratiques. Cela m’a fixé sur la manière
dont ces messieurs comprennent l’éducation.
— Y avait-il des dames dans l’auditoire ?
— Oui.
— Elles n’ont pas dû être flattées de la différence.
 — Oh ! Tu penses bien que ce P. Recteur n’est pas Jésuite pour
rien et qu’il a trouvé moyen de dire, par manière de parenthèse, que
beaucoup de femmes ont des cœurs d’homme. Et celles qui étaient
là n’auront pas manqué de se caser du côté le plus flatteur pour
elles.
— Alors, vous avez eu du plaisir ?
— Un peu, surtout lorsque… » Ici, un petit chat dans la gorge.
— « Racontez-nous donc ça, papa. »
Quand le petit chat eut passé : « Eh bien, le matin de la comédie,
j’ai assisté à la proclamation solennelle qui termine le trimestre. Les
parents sont invités. Il m’avait fait mettre à côté de son professeur,
qui est un homme fort aimable. Ces messieurs sont tous très
aimables et gens de bonne compagnie. Le Révérend Père
m’expliquait les choses, à mesure qu’elles se déroulaient. On
proclama d’abord les places obtenues dans chacun des cours :
composition de la semaine, travail de la quinzaine (cela s’appelle la
diligence), excellence du mois. Le premier vient se présenter au P.
Recteur, qui lui attache sur la poitrine une croix d’or ou d’argent et lui
donne l’accolade. Le second n’a qu’un ruban, dont la couleur varie
avec chaque branche — et celui-là, on le reçoit de la main de
quelque professeur. Paul a été décoré de la croix de composition en
discours français par le P. Recteur, et grâce à mon aimable voisin le
professeur de rhétorique, qui m’a cédé son droit, c’est papa qui a eu
l’honneur exceptionnel de fleurir son fils des deux rubans de
diligence et d’excellence.
— Sans émotion aucune ? » demanda maman.
— « Je ne dis pas cela.
— Oh ! Papa a le cœur fort, comme tous les hommes. Moi,
simple fille, je ne me serais pas gênée pour y aller d’une petite larme
au coin de l’œil. C’est bien permis !
— Petite perfide !… Eh bien, oui… Mais c’était la première fois.
— Espérons que ce ne sera pas la dernière. Et après ?
 — Après, sont venus les témoignages de bonne tenue et
d’application, les bien, les très bien, les parfaitement bien, et j’ai
encore eu la faveur de remettre à Paul… Devine quoi, Jeanne.
— Oh ! un bien, tout au plus.
— Ce serait encore trop pour toi… Un parfaitement bien, qui est
dans ma valise et que je veux faire encadrer.
— Nous irons prier devant, n’est-ce pas, chaque soir, en
pèlerinage ?
— A propos de prière », interjeta maman, « ne l’avez-vous pas
trouvé trop… jésuite ?
— Que veux-tu dire ?
— Eh bien, trop… pieux ?
— Trop, non ; assez, oui. Il m’a mené voir la chapelle.
— Ah !
— J’ai admiré les lustres et les vitraux.
— Et lui, qu’a-t-il fait ?
— Lui ? Il m’a offert de l’eau bénite, en entrant, puis s’est mis à
genoux, la tête dans ses mains… Je ne sais ce qu’il faisait.
— Il priait pour quelqu’un… qui ne prie pas beaucoup », fis-je.
Papa me regarda ; mais moi je regardais Minet, qui faisait des
ronrons sur mes genoux. Il se tira d’embarras en disant avec
énergie :
— « Allons dîner : ce voyage m’a creusé l’estomac… Mais je
n’aurais pas cru !… Ces messieurs ont vraiment le tour de main. »
Je te conte tout cela, mon petit frère, au long et au large, parce
que cela m’intéresse énormément et que tu ne seras sans doute pas
fâché toi-même de savoir au juste l’impression de papa. Il est gagné,
sûrement, et tu verras que tout finira bien.
Après dîner, l’oncle Barnabé est venu. Quand papa lui eut refait
son récit avec le même enthousiasme, le brave homme eut le
malheur de dire : « Les Jésuites sont des enjôleurs : c’est reconnu. »
— « Il est reconnu, répliqua papa de son petit ton des jours maigres,
qu’en fait d’éducation, tu n’as jamais eu le sens commun et que tu
n’as pas su empêcher ton Ernest de devenir un crétin de première
force, malgré les trois lycées où tu l’as mis successivement ». Le
pauvre oncle Barnabé n’a pas demandé son reste.
Ton ami Louis a été fort ennuyé de ne pas te trouver ici et m’a
chargé de te faire savoir que les Jésuites, qui ne donnent pas de
vacances pour le nouvel an [3] , sont des esprits chagrins. C’était
aussi l’idée de papa, avant la visite qu’il t’a faite. Il n’en a plus parlé,
ce soir ; je vois bien pourquoi : si tu avais eu des vacances, il ne
t’aurait ni applaudi ni décoré ! Maman et moi, qui n’avons pas eu les
mêmes bonheurs, nous penchons à dire comme Louis. Je t’en
demande pardon pour tes maîtres, que j’estime tout de même,
puisqu’ils te font du bien. Ils doivent avoir des raisons. Mais je
prendrai ma revanche aux jours gras.
[3] Ils n’en donnaient pas à la date de ces lettres. Depuis, il paraît qu’on leur a
forcé la main.

Je t’embrasse un peu, beaucoup, passionnément.

Ta sœur Jeanne.

Papa nous a fidèlement rapporté la recette de ton Frère cuisinier

pour le gâteau de macaroni. Nous l’étudions, maman et moi, avec la
vieille Fanchon, en vue des prochaines vacances. Ça ne paraît pas
bien extraordinaire, quoi que tu en dises merveille.

20. A mon père.

10 janvier.

Mon cher papa,