The Dilemma of Disarmament

By RAYMOND BONNER MOGADISHU Raymond Bonner, a journalist who writes frequently about foreign policy, has been living in Africa for the past four years.

FOR THE SOMALI MAN, SAYS U.S. SPECIAL ENVOY ROBERT OAKley, three things are important: "his camel, his wife and his weapon. The right to bear arms is in their soul." That is a stereotyped and simplistic view but with an element of truth. In Somalia's nomadic culture, a weapon has always been essential to defend against unknown enemies in the vast desert. Oakley believes that if American soldiers began confiscating weapons, they would quickly become the enemy.

The disarmament issue presents a central dilemma for the U.S. If the rifles and grenades and artillery pieces are not stripped from the land, the streets will again become corridors of death as soon as the Marines leave. Already unintimidated armed thugs are resurfacing in many areas. There is a risk that Operation Restore Hope could become a shallow exercise and an expensive overdeployment of men and materiel.

What makes officials like Oakley reluctant to engage in wholesale disarmament is the ghosts of Lebanon. "In Beirut the people responsible for the policy didn't understand the political situation," he said. "They didn't realize that in doing what we did, we became a combatant." When a narrowly defined military role conflicted with political demands, the Marines came to be seen as everyone's enemy, which led to the 1983 bombing in Beirut that killed 241 servicemen.

In Somalia, U.S. officials fear their troops could be cast into the same untenable position. U.N. Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali has been leading a campaign to turn the humanitarian mission into a more problematic operation to rebuild the Somali nation. Step 1 is disarming a populace so heavily armed that no one can even begin to figure the size of the arsenal. But the Bush Administration remains unwilling to take on a task that could put U.S. troops in the middle, making the Marines the target of anyone who refuses to give up his gun.

For now, Administration officials say they are encouraging disarmament, but not imposing it. But if a political decision were made to collect all the weapons, it would be fairly easy to accomplish. The Somali clans do not have trained soldiers, like the Serb militias in Bosnia. Most of those toting guns here are youths, some not so big as the rifles they carry. They are not fighting for any cause, not for communism or Islam, not for freedom or democracy. They appear mainly interested in spoils. When the Marines landed, they fled, and it is unlikely that they would fight if the troops started seizing their weapons.

Nonetheless, a campaign to disarm Somalis could create hostility. "If we were obliged to go on a house-to-house search -- which we wouldn't do anyway," said Oakley, "the Somalis would see it as rank colonialism." Still some Somali leaders discount a major backlash because, they say, the people are sick and tired of the violence.

Only the U.S. could even attempt the job of disarmament. The French and Italian troops would never have the trust of the Somalis, given their colonial histories in the region. The U.N. is even more despised. In the eyes of most Somalis, U.N. aid programs helped sustain the dictatorial government of Mohammed Siad Barre, who was deposed in January 1991. Then, as the country slid into civil war, the U.N. declined to act. As anarchy and starvation accelerated, the U.N. agencies were conspicuously absent.

Only an "outside authority" can disarm Somalia, says 56-year-old Ahmed Jama, a former Somali national police chief. "We are unable -- or unwilling -- to disarm ourselves. The best authority, which has the goodwill of the Somali people, is the American soldiers." He thinks it would take four to six months for "total disarmament." If the U.S. proves unwilling to undertake this part of its mission, then the result will be like the end of the Gulf War -- a job half done.