OZY.com: Could This Former Soldier Help Stitch Together Peace After ISIS

Mark Clark with Prince Feisal Ibn Al-Hussein.

Mark Clark with Prince Feisal Ibn Al-Hussein.


By Adrian Brune


It was nearly sundown on a summer Thursday, and Mark Clark needed a run. Exiting the lobby of the U.N. Plaza Hotel, he started at a brisk pace amid swirling thoughts of U.N. agencies, plans for the international nongovernmental organization he oversees and his wife’s impending delivery of twins. He picked up speed and completed six miles before heading back — a brief respite before work demands and fatherhood would pin him down.

But Clark, 43, the seemingly unflappable former soldier and Edinburgh-trained lawyer who leads Generations for Peace (GFP), a global peace-building initiative founded by Jordan’s Prince Feisal Ibn Al-Hussein — King Abdullah II’s younger brother — didn’t show any signs of fatigue. In fact, he was still on message as we jogged along the East River. “We aim at an understanding that peace is a process, not a destination,” Clark said, drawing from speeches he’d made to the U.N. powers that be earlier that day.

Operating under a topsy-turvy world order when he was tapped to run GFP just before the Arab Spring in 2011, Clark already had a hefty mandate in convincing youth to give peace a chance. Jump to today’s global turmoil and it’s either Clark’s perfect storm, or a tempest that could knock him and GFP off their ballast. In May, amid suicide attacks from ISIS and other fundamentalist groups in London, Kabul and Iran, the Trump administration proposed scrapping U.S. grants to programs whose missions include “countering violent extremism” (CVE) — a key area of work for GFP — to redirect money to organizations that focus exclusively on Islamic extremism.

If Clark were to incorporate an “Islam” focus to amplify GFP’s CVE projects around the world, the organization stands to receive more American dollars. But if he stays true to his conviction that “Islam is not the common thread of terrorist attacks,” Clark and groups like GFP could see their U.S. donors move toward more radical, less effective organizations.

Speaking by phone a month before Trump’s announcement, Clark stressed that violent extremism springs from “a core dynamic: the dream of a life of significance through struggle and sacrifice in comradeship.” An April study, focused on GFP’s backyard in Jordan and run by the Combating Terrorism Center at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, backs Clark’s theory. It found that economic deprivation, substandard education and the presence of radical Islamist discourse contribute to the problem, “but the fundamental concern is that Jordan’s booming youth population has no emotive attachment to Jordanian identity and thus little stake in political order.”

With satellite offices in Nigeria, Sudan, South Sudan, Somalia and Bosnia, GFP is headquartered in Amman, Jordan, a country hosting 1.4 million Syrian refugees that is also the third-largest contributor of foreign fighters to the conflicts in neighboring Syria and Iraq. To support its volunteers, GFP maintains a network of mentors providing advice and encouragement in the peace-building process. “Many other NGOs and organizations offer trainings, but do so little in follow-up that they come to be viewed as CV-building exercises to get a job or scholarship overseas,” Clark said. GFP, by contrast, builds long-term relationships with its volunteers and invests in their ongoing development.

Founded in 2007, Generations for Peace relies on a mentoring model to draw youth away from groups like ISIS, al-Qaida, Ansar al-Sharia and Hezbollah that appeal to their idealism while offering to pay them for “glamorous” jobs. GFP helps young people resist the lure of extremist indoctrination by giving them reasons to stay and make their communities more resilient and harmonious. It recruits volunteers from conflict areas and trains them in peace-building, fund-raising and community mobilization, then sends those volunteers into towns to teach teenagers about unity and collaboration through team sports or art projects. GFP then relies on those students to grow into teachers for future generations.

Clark, who was working in Iraq as an advisor to the National Olympic Committee, came to the nonprofit through a happenstance meeting with Prince Feisal, then president of the Jordan Olympic Committee. But it’s Clark’s background as a captain in the British Army that makes him a near-perfect fit for the job, according to Jean-Christophe Nothias, editor-in-chief of the Geneva-based Global Journal. Once Clark consolidated his key resources at GFP, Nothias says he conducted a “forced march” over a three-year period to scale up operations in the Middle East.

Generations for Peace volunteers in Tripoli, Lebanon.

Generations for Peace volunteers in Tripoli, Lebanon.

Still, there are major challenges — like Syria’s border camps, where some 80,000 refugees rely on dribs and drabs of international aid, or pay off guards so they can leave and stake a new claim with nothing but their sand-blasted U.N. tarps. Into this setting, on a Saturday in late October, three college-age GFP volunteers arrived at a community center in Mafraq, a storefront strip near Zaatari, to coach a group of Syrian and Jordanian teenage girls in the art of acceptance.

“When I first got here, I was hiding my nationality to gain friends,” said Haneen, a 16-year-old refugee from Homs, Syria. “My sister left the school because she hated it — she didn’t feel she fit in.” At this, Haneen turned to her Jordanian friend Fati, who said she came to the GFP sessions “just to see Haneen.”

Skeptics might question whether such an unlikely friendship will endure, but Clark is sold on exchanges such as these. Nothias agrees: “Asking youths rather than governments to bring about peace may sound a bit naive,” he says. “But when you face GFP’s army of young, articulate, peace-pushing volunteers, then you understand that something big is going on here.”

OZY.com Can He Help Keep the World in One Piece?


By Adrian Brune


In January 2014, Ken Payumo, head of the United Nations Peacekeeping compound in Bor, South Sudan, a city on the frontlines of an emerging civil war, sat in his cramped shipping container office. The previous week, thousands of people had filtered past the UN’s walls seeking safety, as government forces fought to retake the city from rebel militias. The Sudan People’s Liberation Army succeeded, and a key government official approached Payumo about surveying the camp — accompanied by 80 heavily armed soldiers looking to kill rebel sympathizers.

“As they approached, it was clear their intentions were not good,” Payumo recalls. “When I told them to lay down their weapons and their cameras and they tried to make their way past me, saying, ‘This is our country, our government; you can’t tell us where to go,’ I gave the command to close the compound.” He pauses, fidgeting with a blue peacekeeper’s helmet on a desk littered with situation reports and operation manuals from various missions. “The gates slamming shut was probably the loudest sound I’d ever heard … then the soldiers cocked their weapons at me.” Payumo can’t recall if the standoff “lasted hours or minutes,” but as soon as the military left, he called headquarters to request reinforcements at the Bor compound — and was evacuated for his own safety.

As the UN Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPKO) prepares to close its mission in Haiti — the first of three scheduled for 2017 — while facing a new, reformist UN Secretary-General, António Guterres, and questions surrounding the murder in May of two peacekeepers in the Democratic Republic of Congo, the reputation of the Blue Helmets is at stake. Lurid tales of sexual abuse, including a sex ring exploiting Haitian children, have surfaced, along with accusations of peacekeepers causing cholera outbreaks or standing idly by during attacks, according to an internal UN report.

Payumo, 48, chief of the Peacekeeping Operations Support Section, will not only play a hand in drawing down operations in Haiti, Liberia and the Ivory Coast, but he’ll also continue to help oversee the safety of the 86,000 UN peacekeeping troops and 20,000 civilian personnel deployed worldwide. In addition, the former New York police officer and Justice Department attorney will likely be called to assist the United Nations in rethinking its peacekeeping agenda, as Guterres considers an overhaul amid criticism and threatened U.S. funding cuts.

American taxpayers are responsible for about 28 percent of the UN DPKO budget — or $2.2 billion of the $7.87 billion department. The new U.S. Ambassador to the UN, Nikki Haley, wants more than across-the-board prioritizing, however; she has demanded a mission-by-mission review of peacekeeping.



For Payumo, the cuts will mean doing more with even less. Based in New York, he oversees security assistance, particularly crisis support management, to all UN peacekeeping missions. The UN currently has 16 operations deployed on four continents, which, Payumo estimates, is the highest number of substantial missions in the organization’s history. When any of them encounters trouble, Payumo gets the call, fielding upward of 7,500 emails per day. “[The things] that come into my inbox or [the people who] call at 2 a.m., at times they can be daunting and include major crises involving whole countries, such as South Sudan [or] the hostage-taking of UN personnel,” he says. A career that demands travel to the furthest reaches of the world and a mind capable of imagining every possible emergency scenario would exhaust many, but for Payumo, it’s “addictive.”

The son of an Iranian doctor and a Filipino nurse, Payumo arrived at the UN 17 years ago and was immediately dispatched to East Timor — one of the bloodiest peacekeeping sites at the time — to provide guidance after the colony declared independence from Indonesia. Once on the ground, he helped pick up the pieces after militias had moved village to village, burning houses to the ground, killing more than 20,000 and forcibly displacing hundreds of thousands of East Timorese.

After his stint in East Asia, the UN sent the battle-tested Payumo to South Sudan to become head of office for the oil-rich Unity State before settling Jonglei State, a region hit with some of the heaviest fighting and casualties since South Sudan became a country in 2011. “Bor’s duty station was characterized as a red state — the most hazardous and dangerous condition in peacekeeping,” says Alfred Zulu, a human rights officer stationed in South Sudan. “Yet, at any time, Ken would readily join human rights investigations in the field, something that was highly unusual for someone at his level.”

Recent research supports Payumo’s insistence that the UN DPKO does indeed help and is an important mechanism for maintaining harmony in the countries that request it. According to a study published in Peace Operations Review, the presence of a UN peacekeeping mission can reduce the risk of relapse into conflict by 75 to 85 percent. But the same study found that, despite a number of reforms, the resulting structure is no longer fit to fulfill the functions needed. Instead, the organization has become hobbled by new problems, such as fragmentation that undermines coherent action on peace-building and peacekeeping, competition between the political affairs and peacekeeping departments, and delays in mission startup.

But Payumo remains steadfast. “I can’t picture a world without the UN. All the locations where we work are bad. And without us, who tells the world what is going on?” His commitment is to a UN facing its worst crisis since 1946, with more than 20 million people threatened with starvation due to warfare in Yemen, Somalia, South Sudan and Nigeria, and five million Syrians fleeing their country’s protracted civil war. Payumo, who is married to a fellow UN worker, recently returned from Syria and described the circumstances as “surreal.”

Still, he’s quick to bring up East Timor to illustrate the UN’s capacity to rebuild countries. “We had to pick up the pieces and start a new country literally from ashes,” Payumo says. That was when he decided to remain with the organization.

Colleagues like Alfred Zulu say Payumo represents the new UN leader — a person with both diplomatic and “field experience” heading to the executive office. For his part, Payumo can’t predict the next 24 hours, let alone the next several years. “I could have never known that when I started in the UN I would go from legal adviser to security coordination for all peacekeeping,” he says.

Nor does he have a crystal ball to foresee what lies ahead: “I can’t say if the world is getting safer, but I can definitely say that the world is more complex in its issues, threats and solutions.”

  • Adrian Brune, OZY Author

OZY.com: The United Nations Therapy Dog -- Because sometimes a little fuzzy love helps world peace

By Adrian Brune


It’s just after noon at the United Nations Staff Counsellor’s Office, and Chloe, the resident therapy dog, has already earned her keep — as well as that office catnap, er, pup-nap.

Since Chloe’s arrival that morning, some 10 U.N. staffers have received a quick nuzzle or kiss from the 5-year-old English bulldog, who wags her bottom half with abandon as she waddles over to greet new arrivals. While it might be a stretch to say that Chloe is more popular than the new secretary-general António Guterres, since her introduction to the U.N. in early February, she has been booked solid, visiting more than 300 employees around the Secretariat campus, during open office hours or just saying hello to stragglers who swing by hoping for a bit of C-time.

Chloe’s presence at the U.N. isn’t frivolous, argues Dawn Straiton, chief of the U.N. Staff Counsellor’s Office and a psychiatric nurse practitioner. Straiton is Chloe’s owner and handler, and handles almost all of the associated costs. According to a 2013 report commissioned by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees on its mental health and psychosocial support, 19 percent of international aid workers described clinically significant post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms. The same report indicated that 46 percent of repatriated international staff — which describes many staffers at the U.N. headquarters — suffered from moderate or high levels of PTSD symptoms, which can persist for years after field postings in high-stress environments.

“A therapist is good, but sometimes, especially when I’m busy with work, I want to clear out my head, but not by talking it out,” says Christiaan Lampinen, an editorial assistant with the U.N. Department of Public Information whose office is on the list for a Chloe visit.

A 2014 study, “Are Therapy Dogs Like Xanax?”, published in the journal Anthrozoös, asked participants to write about traumatic situations. Those who did so in the presence of a therapy dog exhibited less distress than those in a room without one. Those with a dog present also showed significant decreases in depressive symptoms after the task. For delegates from far-flung countries who often work without family, friends or pets nearby while juggling starvation prevention in Yemen and engaging nuclear North Korea, Chloe is a welcome respite.


Animals have been used in health care as far back as 1792 — in the late 1800s, Florence Nightingale wrote about using small animals in the treatment of isolated patients. Disaster Stress Relief Dog teams have responded to the aftermath of tornadoes in Oklahoma, the shootings in Newtown, Connecticut, and even at the U.S. Embassy in Nairobi. The field of animal-assisted therapy has become increasingly normal in therapeutic care over the past decades. “Thirty years ago, you would seldom hear of an animal program at a nursing home, and now you seldom hear of a nursing home without one,” says Alan Beck, director of the Center for the Human-Animal Bond at Purdue University and a pioneering researcher who helped establish the field of anthrozoology. It’s the same, he says, for child therapists.

But Beck and other therapists caution that animals’ primary purpose, especially in counseling sessions, is almost always used to “set the mood” for other interventions. The animal itself isn’t therapy, Beck says — rather, the animal functions as an aide to help the patient reach a calm state.

In the face of the Trump presidential administration, with U.N. Ambassador Nikki Haley charged with representing Donald Trump’s interests at the U.N. Security Council and other pressing meetings, Chloe could offer some calm to an international Secretariat staff who aren’t all on board with the changes — like a possible 40 percent cut in voluntary funding for key U.N. agencies, including UNICEF and the World Food Program. Add that to the normal melee of working in one of the world’s foremost governmental bodies, not to mention the scandals over the oil-for-food program and alleged sexual abuse by U.N. peacekeepers.

Ah, but Chloe is blissfully unaware of such global chaos! From an early age, Chloe was “playful and gentle” says Straiton, who adopted Chloe at the age of 3 months and regularly brought the dog to visit her father, a dementia patient at a veterans’ nursing home. Encouraged by patients and doctors, Straiton took Chloe to train as an official therapy dog — the course ensured she was ready to be petted, to meet other dogs and play nicely and to cozy up properly to kids, among other skills. A good therapy dog must be cheery, friendly and able to get along with all sorts of people — in other words, they need to outshine even most diplomats.

For the most part, the buttoned-up, well-attired staffers rushing among their offices and the conference rooms of the Le Corbusier–designed Secretariat Building are fans of Chloe. In an August 2016 survey, 85 percent of respondents said they were “neutral to strongly” supportive of animal-assisted therapy at their U.N. work location. Those who interacted with Chloe reported positive reactions such as increased happiness, decreased pain and reduced anxiety or depression. These effects lasted from a few minutes to a few hours. But as with all U.N. employees, Chloe’s contract is subject to renewal — in her case at the end of July.

And there are some critics. The U.N. should “take into account the larger dysfunction of the organization that actually makes the staff insecure and promotes [an] unhealthy working environment,” argues a political officer with the Department of Peacekeeping Operations, who cannot speak to the press on official matters.

Others would like more. How about some cats, for good measure?