The Center for International Security and Cooperation is pleased to announce the selection of 13 rising seniors for participation in its Undergraduate Honors Program in International Security Studies. 

The program provides an opportunity for eligible students focusing on international security subjects in any field to earn an honors certificate.

Students selected intern with a security-related organization, attend the program's honors college in Washington, D.C. in September, participate in a year-long core seminar on international security research, and produce an honors thesis with policy implications.

Joshua Alvarez

International Relations, Minor in Economics

Identity and Security: Turkey's Grand Strategy in the Middle East

Keshia Bonner

International Relations, Minor in Economics

United States Policy Towards Hamas and Hezbollah as State Actors

Stephen Craig

Political Science

Security Issues and Domestic Constraints on European Integration

Noura Elfarra

Political Science

How does Regime Change and Revolution Affect the Secret Police?

Alison Epstein

International Relations

British and American Intelligence Cooperation: the Iraq Inquiry and the New Face of the Special Relationship

Peter Hong

Political Science

Recalibrating and Resolving Deficiencies in Multinational Nuclear Fuel Cycle Initiatives

Mohammad Islam

Electrical Engineering, Minor in International Relations

Domestic Terrorism Prevention Strategies in the US and UK

Suraya Omar

Materials Science and Engineering

North Korea's Ambitions for a Light Water Reactor

Clay Ramel

Science, Technology & Society – Energy Engineering Concentration

National Security Dimensions of Developing an Energy Secure United States 

Nick Rosellini

International Relations, Minor in Economics & Modern Languages

The NATO Strategic Concept: Evolution of a Nuclear Posture 1957-2010

Ram Sachs

Earth Systems, Minor in Modern Languages

Environmental Dimensions of Security - Yemen and Violent Extremism

Jeffrey Sweet

Materials Science and Engineering

The Effect of Public Perceptions of Diseases such as HIV, H1N1, SARS, and Anthrax on the Effectiveness of Controlling Epidemics

Reagan Thompson

International Relations, Minor in Chinese

The Chinese Influence in Africa: Case Studies of Ghana and Angola

There are more laws and international treaties designed to protect human rights in conflict zones than ever before. Yet civilians continue to pay the ultimate price, with women and children frequently caught in the crossfire. At the beginning of the 20th century, there was one civilian casualty for every eight or nine military casualties, said Richard Goldstone, the South African jurist who played a key role in helping his country overcome apartheid, served as the chief prosecutor of the International Criminal Tribunals on Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia, and became a household name in 2009 for his controversial fact-finding mission after an Israeli offensive in the Gaza Strip. During World War II, the ratio increased to 1-to-1. Today, after what was, Goldstone said, a "very bloody century," every combatant casualty is matched by nine civilian deaths.

What explains this? Goldstone joined Stanford historian James Campbell and Peter Berkowitz, a political scientist, to grapple with this paradox as part of Stanford's Ethics and War Series, co-sponsored by the Center for International Security and Cooperation.

One reason behind this seeming disconnect is that gaping anomalies remain in the international legal system. It is a "very recent development that international laws have been designed to protect civilians and civilian objects," said Goldstone. Another cause of the paradox is that the most critical issue in determining whether the death of a civilian constitutes a war crime is highly subjective. The so-called principle of proportionality, defined by the Law of Armed Conflict, requires that parties refrain from attacks resulting in excessive civilian casualties. But it is up to "reasonable commanders" to judge whether such violence is justified, said Berkowitz, a senior fellow at the Hoover Institution.

Compounding the problem is that in many of the nations where crimes against civilians may have been committed, there is little interest or even open hostility toward allowing international fact-finding missions to make an assessment. Moreover, many of the transnational organizations designed to help protect civilians simply fail to do so. Goldstone said the UN should be commended for assisting the injured in Gaza but "stands condemned for ignoring the plight of Tamils."

A better system might include requiring greater education in military affairs for human rights lawyers, Berkowitz said. Goldstone's report on the Gaza conflict, Berkowitz argued, failed to properly evaluate whether the civilian cost was a military necessity, noting that Goldstone did not assess whether "reasonable" Israeli commanders had intended to avoid civilian casualties. A better understanding of military procedure, Berkowitz suggested, might have helped Goldstone and others in a similar situation make that kind of assessment.

The United States may also have a role to play in filling in the gaps in the international justice system. Campbell said that the Geneva Convention of 1949, which extended legal protection to war victims, was largely an American construction. Indeed, Berkowitz said that America has "special burdens" to spread liberal democracy across the world. However, the U.S. was reluctant to sign the Convention on the Rights of the Child, ratified by 194 U.N. nations that would protect women and children, said Helen Stacy, a senior fellow at the Center for Democracy, Development, and the Rule of Law.

How some of these issues will be resolved is still an open question. Human rights laws are complex and evolving, said Campbell. "Just as freedom is a constant struggle, so is international humanitarian law," he said. The important part was that the legal system continues to grapple with these issues. The struggle toward an effective system of international justice is being "waged in our country," he said, "in dialogues like the ones we are having today."

As a little girl Susie Linfield was captivated by a book she discovered on her parents' bookshelf entitled The Black Book of Polish Jewry. Published in the early 1940s, it included photos of starving Jews in the ghettos. “I was grieved by them. I was shamed by them. But I was also sort of compelled by them,” says Linfield, the director of the Cultural Reporting and Criticism Program at New York University. Decades later, she reflected again on the way photographs informed her view of war and atrocities as she examined the photos emerging from the Balkans, Rwanda, and other trouble spots. In her new book, The Cruel Radiance: Photography and Political Violence (University of Chicago Press), Linfield returns to this theme. She recently gave a talk at Stanford as part of the Stanford Ethics & War Series (2010-2011), sponsored in part by the Center for International Security and Cooperation, and she spoke with CISAC about changes in photojournalism, the political context behind warfare, and what she calls “the ethics of seeing.” Excerpts:

CISAC: In your book you look at two different approaches to war photography—that of Robert Capa, the Hungarian war photographer of the 1930s and 1940s, and the modern war photographer James Nachtwey, who has chronicled more recent conflict. How are world events reflected in their photography?

Linfield: One of the observations in my book is that war and its related atrocities are photographed in a much more graphic way than they used to be. The level of atrocity and bodily disfigurement that we are now used to seeing in photographs is something very different than the kind of photojournalism that was done in the 1920s through the 1950s. That connects in some ways to the lessening of political certainty. In other words, the kind of political and ideological factors that used to determine war are much less prevalent in a lot of the wars that are being fought now. If you look at the war in the Congo, it’s just a horrific, horrific situation with millions of people killed. But it’s very hard to understand that war in any sort of traditional political paradigm, certainly not the paradigm of something like the Spanish civil war. There, one could understand the political dynamics and certainly feel solidarity with one side or another. With a lot of the wars we're presented with now, I think that kind of solidarity and political clarity is very, very hard to come by. So I think what we’re presented with visually is the bodily disfigurement, the tortured bodies, but without any kind of political context in which to understand it.

CISAC: How are today’s photos perceived by viewers, as opposed to back in Capa’s time?

L: I think there’s much more resistance to seeing photographs now than there was in Capa’s time. And again I think that’s connected to the lack of political clarity. People aren’t really sure why they’re seeing them or what to think when they do, and I think that has turned into a resentment against photography and against photojournalism in particular—that we’re just being assaulted by these meaningless images. These images aren’t meaningless. But they do take a lot of work to try to understand.

CISAC: How is this tied to ethics?

L: I think there is something I would call the ethics of seeing. To me that’s not an instantaneous thing. It would be very connected to the idea of really trying to delve into the histories that these photographs suggest and really trying to understand them and understand the causes of the violence. And in terms of the ethics of showing, I am much less critical of photojournalists than I think a lot of other critics are, especially with someone like James Nachtwey. He’s accused of being a pornographer, exploiting—his stuff is disgusting, unbearable, unwatchable. And it is disgusting and unbearable in certain ways, but I don’t think he’s a pornographer. And I don’t think he’s a nihilist. I think he’s showing us images that are very, very difficult to look at. And they’re very, very difficult to look at for two reasons. One, the explicitness of them is very, very painful. To see bodies that tormented is extraordinarily painful. And I think they’re also difficult to look at because it’s very hard to have a political context in which to understand these images. In a certain sense we’re sort of left with our troubled emotions, but not really knowing what to do with them.