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Engaging the Future: Call Me by My Real Name

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According to the BBC World Service there are 300,000 child soldiers fighting in conflicts around the world. Many of those children were recruited to fight when they were as young as ten years old. Sam Gbaydee Doe, a Christian Minister and the founder and executive director of the West African Network for Peacebuilding has worked with child soldiers in Liberia and Sierra Leone in an effort to help them rebuild their lives. That work has been particularly difficult because he is working in a part of the world that has been ripped apart by civil war. A recent Human Rights Watch report on child soldiers in Liberia explains:

    Over the last fourteen years, Liberians have known little but warfare. Conflict and civil war have devastated the country and taken an enormous toll on the lives of its citizens, especially children. Thousands of children have been victims of killings, rape and sexual assault, abduction, torture, forced labor and displacement at the hands of the warring factions. Children who fought with the warring parties are among the most affected by the war. Not only did they witness numerous human rights violations, they were additionally forced to commit abuses themselves.
    Both of the opposition groups, the Liberians United for Reconciliation and Democracy (LURD) and the Movement for Democracy in Liberia (MODEL), as well as government forces which include militias and paramilitary groups widely used children when civil war resumed in 2000. In some cases, the majority of military units were made up primarily of boys and girls under the age of eighteen. Their use and abuse was a deliberate policy on the part of the highest levels of leadership in all three groups. No precise figures exist as to how many children were used in the last four years of warfare; however, United Nations (U.N.) agencies estimate that approximately 15,000 children were involved in the fighting.1

Since August 2003, a peace agreement and cease-fire has stopped the fighting. Gbaydee Doe learned that one of the greatest challenges in working with child soldiers is to help them rebuild their identities. He wrote about his experiences during a 1998 cease-fire.

    Three months after the Liberian civil war, Commanding Officer "Dirty Ways" one morning begged his neighbors to call him by his real name. "I have come to tell you not to call me ‘CO Dirty Ways' anymore. Call me by my real name. I am Junior Sawyer." Since the end of the civil war, a major source of violent conflicts among youths in Liberia is name calling. One specific case that comes to mind took place in a secondary school located in a rural county of Liberia. A former child soldier took a pistol to school in order to "kill a friend who refused to take warning when I told him to stop calling me crazy." During the seven year civil war, Dorwee proudly moved around his community with the name "General Crazy." One year after the civil war, he takes a pistol to kill someone for calling him by that name.

    In order to recreate children and turn them into monsters, Liberian warlords devised several strategies to destroy the original identities of children who they conscripted into their fighting forces. In my six years of work with child soldiers in Liberia, I have not come across any child soldier who used his family or given name in the civil war. Why did warlords take identity recreation as their single most important strategy in their conscription exercises? What are the social consequences of their actions on post-war Liberia?

    Like Western Christian missionaries who insisted on the change of name after baptism in Africa, faction leaders insisted on the change of name after savage initiating rituals, with "Buck Naked," "Human Eater," "Dirty Ways," "Rambo," "Chuck Norris," "General Crazy" as common replacements. Why did the warlords take the renaming of children seriously? What is the significance of name in the Liberian society? How does this inform the identity crisis that plagues ex-combatants and other post-war Liberian children?

    Having a sense of identity means being able to see oneself as an individual with certain characteristics. An individual whose important qualities existed in the past and will continue into the future. One who is able to view himself as having a certain place in society. In the Liberian context, the single most important social mechanism through which one's individuality is established is the naming ritual. Liberia's four major ethnic groups (Mel, Mande, Kwa, Americo-Liberians) have different naming rituals but they all have a common traditional, spiritual, and philosophical ground for the ceremonies. Liberians believe that every human being's behaviors and characteristics are conditioned by his name.

    When I was born, for example, my parents named me after my deceased grandfather. I remember vividly as a child growing up in a six-hut village in Southeastern Liberia how the villagers had pre-conceived expectations about how "a Gbaydee" should behave. "You are a Gbaydee. When Gbaydee was here with us he was generous, jovial and wise. Why are you doing the opposite?" This question was drummed in my ears every time by the villagers so much that, in reflection, I realize that my behavior and self-concept was largely conditioned by them.2

    During the civil war, warlords exploited this tradition in order to transform children into unquestioning soldiers.

    A child who was named "Dirty Ways" was expected to be nasty in dealing with civilians or his "enemies." A "Rambo" was supposed to be as brave and adventurous as Hollywood's Sylvester Stallone.

    Warlords in Liberia did not only rename children, they destroyed every earlier relationship which defined the children. Children were sent to their own villages...to kill, loot and destroy. "We went at night. I knew some of the people. They knew me too, but I was a different person now...I can do anything to anyone. All the big, big people were scared of me. I was the commander in my village," a former child soldier told me. When rebel leaders complete this ritual, they take away the child's community, friends, and relatives, which defined him and provided his view of the world. They replace it with a new community characterized by killing, looting, and vandalizing. For seven years, this was the community to which they belonged. For seven years, they were the prominent people in their communities. Their basic human need for recognition was demanded from people of their communities through the use of the gun.3

During the 1998 cease-fire Gbaydee Doe worked to reintegrate child soldiers back into their communities. In a letter to a colleague, he described the transformation that he saw in the children:

    At the beginning of the sessions these kids generally expressed attitudes of dominance, disrespect for authority, arrogance, and intimidation. At the end they all broke down and for the first time came in contact with their hearts, with their full humanity. There were commitments made to serve as social actors for peace in their communities. One, a female heavy artillery commander, said, "I always thought of myself as a militant. I have been called to Monrovia to join the Armed Forces of Liberia, but after these six days it is clear to me that militancy is not what I desire. I will destroy my forms and work for peace in my community." Another wrote me a letter, "Dear Smiling Sam (they all called me this), Having gone through the six days of intensive training, I have come to gain interest in you, thus asking that you be my father as you depart. May God bless you in your cause to foster peace for Liberians throughout the country." Tears of joy welled up in my eyes as I read this letter. Yesterday they all called Charles Taylor (the recently deposed dictator of Liberia), George Boley, Roosevelt Johnson, and all the rebel leaders their fathers. Today I have become a father. This is a great challenge because they have all learned to do exactly as their fathers. I am challenged to be a father who honors life. A father who builds and (does) not destroy communities. Not only that, but to be a father who will work with others to also become fathers and mothers to these lost souls of Liberia.4

Those experiences have had a profound effect on how Gbaydee Doe sees the work. He believes "our civilization should be measured by what we do to our children." Despite Liberia's long history of violence, Gbaydee Doe remains hopeful that peace is possible but it will take more than legal and political settlements.

There is no environment that can help transform violence except an environment that is characterized by love, by tolerance, by absolute acceptance of the person going beyond...behavioral and attitudinal limitations and beginning to see the God in that person.5


Connections
What does it take to turn children into unquestioning soldiers? How were the identities of children destroyed and later recreated in that process?

Gbaydee Doe asks, "Why did the warlords take the renaming of children seriously?" Many children - from child soldiers to gang members - who are involved in violence take on new names. Others become avatars online and take on new names and new identities. What is the relationship between a name and identity?

Another aspect of the recruitment of child soldiers was the way that warlords "destroyed every earlier relationship which defined the children." What are the consequences of destroying relationships between a child, their community, friends, and relatives?

Gbaydee Doe notes the ritual of naming children in Liberia as a way of saying something about a child's identity. What are the other rituals used to condition children to violence? Are their rituals you know about that are used to promote tolerance and non-violence?

How can a community educate for peace in the midst of violence? Gbaydee Doe believes that legal and political solutions to violence are insufficient in themselves. He explains:

There is no environment that can help transform violence except an environment that is characterized by love, by tolerance, by absolute acceptance of the person going beyond...behavioral and attitudinal limitations and beginning to see the God in that person.

What would such an environment look like? Why is it so hard to achieve?

Gbaydee Doe believes "our civilization should be measured by what we do to our children." How is that sentiment reflected in the laws, customs, and practices of a society? One international effort to protect children is the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child. Visit http://www.unhchr.ch/html/menu3/b/k2crc.htm to read the convention. Consider the way that the articles of the convention have been addressed or ignored in your society?

U.N. Secretary General Kofi Annan believes that child soldiers in Sierra Leone should be subject to war crime prosecution for their actions during the civil war. Consider the situation of child soldiers that Gbaydee Doe describes. Should they be held accountable for their war crimes? Are there times when the need for accountability gets in the way of efforts to build peace? If so, should we then disregard the rights of the victim? Is peace for the community more important than justice for an individual? If we let these perpetrators of some of the most savage violence off because of their age, what precedent do we set?

Arn Chorn-Pond, a former child soldier, survivor of the Cambodian Genocide, and human rights activist. For the past 20 years he has worked every day to rebuild that which was destroyed during the genocide - reestablishing bridges between the young and old, respecting traditional Cambodian culture, and giving voice to traditional musicians who were among the first victims of the genocide. His life story, interwoven with his current work in Cambodia, is told in the film The Flute Player. The film is available from the Facing History and Ourselves Resource Library. For more information visit www.thefluteplayer.net or www.facinghistory.org.

In 1993 Sam Gbaydee Doe's village in Liberia was destroyed during a civil war. During the attacks many of his relatives were killed. Three years later he was forced to flee his country. After leaving home Gbaydee Doe studied conflict transformation at Eastern Mennonite University in the United States, a program that aims not just to find a resolution to conflict but also to change the dynamics of the society in which the conflict erupted. As a peacebuilder he wants to break the cycle of fear, violence, and revenge. "I can be victimized," Gbaydee Doe has said, "but it is clear to me that I cannot be a victim. Victimhood is a place of helplessness. Recognizing that someone has victimized me, I try to think about how I can move on." Once you have been victimized, what does it take to move on? What kind of skills and support can help facilitate the process?

For more information on Sam Gbaydee Doe and the challenges faced by several other peacebuilders across the world visit the archive of the Facing History and Ourselves online forum Engaging the Future: Religion, Human Rights and Conflict Resolution at www.facinghistory.org/future.

Gbaydee Doe explains that children in Liberia were expected to live up to the meaning behind their names. He writes that, "A child who was named ‘Dirty Ways' was expected to be nasty in dealing with civilians or his ‘enemies.' A ‘Rambo' was supposed to be as brave and adventurous as Hollywood's Sylvester Stallone." The book The Bear That Wasn't, a modern fable, explores the ways in which the expectations of others influence how people see themselves. It is available from the Facing History and Ourselves resource library and is excerpted in Facing History and Ourselves: Holocaust and Human Behavior.

Many psychologists have studied the way human beings are conditioned for violence. Among the most famous are Stanley Milgram who worked on obedience to authority and Philip Zimbardo whose prison experiment investigated "what happens when you put good people in an evil place?" Zimbardo's prison experiment is documented on line. Visit his web site at http://www.zimbardo.com. Videos of both experiments are available from the Facing History and Ourselves resource library.

Several other resources from the Facing History and Ourselves Resource Library touch on themes reflected in this reading including:

· If the Mango Tree Could Speak - This documentary about children and war in South America offers a glimpse of ten boys and girls growing up in the midst of war in Guatemala and El Salvador. The children speak with honesty about war and peace, justice, ethnic identity, marriage, and friendship. They share their dreams and hopes, pain and loss.

· Monsta - An interview with Cody Scott, a former gang member from Los Angeles, and author of the memoir Monster. He describes what led him to be a gang member and his new revolutionary politics.
· Waging Peace - This film documents the "Tomorrow's Leaders" conference that was held in Venice during the summer of 1995. The conference was sponsored by the Elie Wiesel Foundation for Humanity and co-facilitated by Facing History and Ourselves. It brought together thirty young people from around the world who documented the ways they had harnessed hope, expressed outrage, and made a positive difference in their community or nation. Many of the participants were from war-torn nations, or lived in communities divided by generations of ethnic hatred. The film shares the conversations between the participants as they struggled with issues of democracy, social change, personal identity, and the roots of conflict both within their regions and in other parts of the world.


1. How to Fight, How to Kill: Child Soldiers in Liberia by Human Rights Watch, February 2004 Vol. 16, No. 2 (A), 1.

2. Sam Gbaydee Doe, "Former Child Soldiers in Liberia: Call Me By My Real Name, A Cry for Lost Identity," RRN Newsletter, Number 12, November 1998, pps. 1-3.

3. Ibid.

4. Quoted in Holy War, Holy Peace: How Religion Can Bring Peace to the Middle East, by Marc Gopin, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 16.

5. An Interview with Sam Gbaydee Doe is available at http://www.everydaygandhis.com/doe.html

 


Note: The media selections posted in Facing Today do not necessarily represent the views of Facing History and Ourselves.