One of the oddest moments during the UN school training for officers of the 48th Infantry Group occurred during a seminar in the school’s Congo Room.
The chief instructor, Comdt Dave Foley, was talking blue UN (humanitarian) and black UN (peacekeeping and peace enforcing) and the differences between the two. At one point he evidently wanted to get the officers – now serving on the Golan Heights – to feel how much the UN means to destitute people depending on it as a last resort.
The room is small, with rows of plastic and metal chairs, a dais at the front and a whiteboard on one wall. Foley asks everyone to stand.
“What would it take [for] you to leave your lovely home?” he asks, not wanting an answer. “What would it take?” he repeats, the question left hanging in the air.
He says he is going to outline some scenarios and he wants them to take a step forward when what he describes would prompt them abandon their home.
“The house next door has been turned into a brothel.” No one moves.
“Happy to stay living there? Okay, the prostitutes have left and an armed drug gang has moved in.” No one moves.
“A known family of sex offenders move in next door.” One man steps forward.
“Okay,” says Foley.“A group of radical fundamentalists take over the town.” A few more officers step forward. Foley continues through the scenarios, ratcheting up the awfulness.
“IS move into your town; an army sets up a base next door to your house; there’s conflict in your area, shelling breaks out . . .”
The shuffling continues as chairs are pushed here and there to make space.
He carries on. “The war in your neighbourhood intensifies with shelling and all houses are being hit. Leave, stay?”
“But where can I go to?” asks Lieut-Col Mark Prendergast. “Ah!” says Foley, almost triumphant. “This is the question, sir, this is the question.”
Next. “Your own house is hit by a shell.” Every officer, bar one, moves.
Foley then says that if what he says next would have them feeling afraid, they should move towards the window. If the emotion generated is anger, go towards the door. If they are feeling both angry and frightened, they should go to the rear of the room.
“You have moved from your home. At a checkpoint, people in uniform say you can only proceed with what you can carry; no carts, no vehicles. Afraid/angry?
“In the middle of night, armed men come and segregate men and women into separate buildings. Afraid/angry?
“In the morning, you are reunited but a female family member tells of a threat and of giving sexual favour to a man in uniform in exchange for food and shelter. Afraid/ angry?” There is marked shuffling towards the angry door.
“You arrive at a camp, still in your country, so you are an IDP [internally displaced person], your government remains responsible for you.
“Your home has been destroyed. You’ve lost everything, your possessions, the dignity of your family and you’re angry and afraid.
“You put up a makeshift tent but after some days, another female in your family tells of new sexual assault.”
More move to the angry corner.
“A group of well-resourced, armed men in the camp invite you to join them,” says Foley. “Are you are with them or against them. Afraid/angry? You decide to leave the camp because this is not a good situation to be in. It’s cold at night, there’s no shelter from the sun at day.
“Then, through the fence, you see a big cloud of dust on the horizon and it’s moving closer to where you and your family and other people who have joined you along the way are standing. And as the dust clears you see the big white Mowags, emblazoned with a black UN on the side. They’re coming closer to the fence.
“I want you to close your eyes. What is your emotion? What do you feel? There’s no need for you to tell me, but just store the thought for a moment.”
