Justice for all

Last night, I finished reading “Strength in What Remains” by Tracy Kidder. It’s the incredible, heartbreaking, and moving story of Deogratias, a young medical student in Burundi who became a refugee during the genocide. It tells the story of his harrowing and indescribably difficult escape from Burundi and his subsequent arrival in the U.S. In the U.S., he doesn’t know the language, he doesn’t have a place to live and becomes homeless, and joins the ranks of the poorest of the poor - despite the fact that he was an extremely intelligent scholarship student back home.

The book then chronicles the challenges he faces in adjusting to life in the U.S. and obtaining permanent residency. However, unlike many immigrants and refugees, Deo manages to get into Columbia University. He completes his undergraduate degree there and eventually becomes a medical student at Dartmouth. He also joins with Partners in Health and tirelessly pursues his passion of improving health for the poor in his home country, Burundi. He doesn’t give up, and now he is the leader of an organization that builds health clinics in Burundi called Village Health Works. I loved this story because it demonstrates the resilience of the human spirit in the face of incredible, seemingly insurmountable odds. Despite coming to the U.S. completely impoverished, he somehow manages to succeed and do incredible things. His desire to better the world drives him forward. At the same time, I can’t help but wonder how much of his journey is due to luck — the book mentions many instances in which he was, simply, lucky: a Hutu woman decided to help him escape across the Rwandan border, he met a nun in the U.S. who is extraordinarily compassionate and took it upon herself to help him, an older couple saw something in him and took him in, even helping him pay for his education. Whether it was luck or destiny or inner talent and willpower, he did it. And his story serves as an example for the rest of us: that nothing is impossible.

Perhaps my favorite quote in the entire book is this one:

A phrase he’d put together out of his dictionary kept coming to him. “A different planet.” New York had many planets. Better, he thought, to be in Burundi, if Burundi were at peace, than to live on the wrong, impoverished planet in New York. This place made you feel like you were simply not a human being. How could you be a human being like everyone else, if your circumstances were this different?

This quote stuck in my mind throughout the book because it makes me wonder: is this true? Is it true that being among the poorest of the poor in the U.S. is worse than being an “average” poor person in one of the poorest developing nations? Most people still come to the U.S. and think of this country as the “land of opportunity.” Yet, I wonder — is that golden land a myth? What is the reality for the poor in the U.S.? Although I have worked with a number of low-income individuals through my volunteer service with LIFT, I still feel like their circumstances are far better than what the poor face in countries like Burundi or India or China.

However, I think what Deo is alluding to in the quote above is not simply the material circumstances, but the psychological ones. After all, it seems clear that daily tasks such as carrying (unclean) water for miles to your home in scorching temperatures is a misery that few in the U.S. must experience. Yet, perhaps being poor in America means you are surrounded by incredible opulence. That you are an outlier - that you are cast out from society. In the very bottom of the heap. That you are granted no respect, that people treat you like a child, and that you are dehumanized. In that way, you feel so alone that you cease to feel human. It’s the inequality that perpetuates these feelings.

Ultimately, I don’t know. I’ve never been in such a situation in the U.S. (or abroad) so I don’t really have any authority to speak about this topic. But this is my personal understanding of the quote, and I think it’s important to ponder whether this quote rings true or not. If it is true, then it makes the case that much stronger for working on domestic poverty issues — which are often seen as less important than international issues.

Through my studies in the political science field, I’ve studied both Guantanamo Bay and the Gacaca process of post-conflict restorative justice in Rwanda in quite a bit of detail. Well, you might ask, what in the world do these two issues have in common? In essence, both alleged terrorists in Guantanamo and those on trial (mostly, or all, Hutus accused of participating in the genocide) in the Gacaca courts aren’t guaranteed a fair trial. In Guantanamo, it’s common knowledge that the accused are only tried by military commissions, generally have not had access to legal counsel or habeas corpus, and were often tortured in prison (although this is all changing).

Similarly, alleged perpetrators and genocidaires who appear before the grassroots and community-based Gacaca courts do not have access to legal representation, are tried by community members - often leading to unfair sentences imposed based on the balance of power in that particular community or region, and are sentenced by judges who mostly have no legal background.

But while issues like Guantanamo and Gacaca have garnered significant worldwide attention - primarily because of their relation to “popular” or “sexy” issues like national security and genocide - the truth is that millions of people around the world are suffering the same fate, but are mostly ignored by the world.

Most people who are imprisoned in much of the developing world - and frankly many in the United States as well - are not guaranteed legal counsel at the expense of the state; thus, they end up in jail for years without even seeing the inside of a court or hearing what they are being charged with. Arbitrary arrests are common. Prison conditions are horrible and unsanitary, with lack of basic hygiene, systematic overcrowding, and the spread of infectious diseases. In some countries like Zimbabwe, prisoners starve to death due to lack of sufficient food. And the tortures of prisoners in Guantanamo that so horrified the American public? The same brutal torture tactics are a commonality in most countries today, and are widespread as interrogation tactics.

In addition, while fair trials has become a big issue/controversy for alleged terrorists and genocidaires, most people around the world who are denied access to legal counsel and who are tortured in prison are suffering for far less severe crimes - such as robbery. Despite this, their plight receives little or no attention from the international community.

When are people going to realize this is a problem? That torture and lack of fair trials & legal representation are not limited to GITMO or Gacaca, but are problems for millions of people around the world?

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights states: “Everyone is entitled in full equality to a fair and public hearing by an independent and impartial tribunal, in the determination of his rights and obligations and of any criminal charge against him.” The right to a fair trial is also found in article 14(1) of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. When are we, the international community, going to begin making sure these laws are actually enforced in practice?

Not just alleged terrorists or genocidaires require fair trials.  Countless poor individuals who have been caught up in the system and are effectively “invisible people” also deserve fair trials, and it’s time we started doing something about this.

Recently, I wrote a post about the injustice of international justice – that war criminals are given decent living conditions and fair trials, while more petty criminals are denied the same. I ran across a very related argument in an excellent article: After Arusha: Gacaca Justice in Post-Genocide Rwanda by Alana Tiemessen. Here it is:

Local prisoner support for the ICTR is very low. The U.S.-based Internews Network has shown what are known as the “Arusha Tapes” in Rwandan prisons to give genocide suspects a view of what has been happening in the ICTR trials and to encourage debate on Rwanda’s own judicial process. Ironically, while the tapes are meant to generate support for the tribunal, they have had opposite effect on local prisoners. The reactions to the tapes have revealed concerns among the prisoners over the absence of the death penalty at the tribunal and the luxurious living conditions of the tribunal prisoners as compared to those of the Rwandan prisons. The issue of the death penalty is significant because it is used by the national courts in Rwanda but not at the international tribunal. One prisoner replied, “why is it that the tribunal gives them more lenient sentences than us, they are the ones who told us to kill on radio . . . how come we are paying the higher price?”

The objections and shock registered by the prisoners to the Arusha Tapes were reflected in their support of the Gacaca process as an appropriate and fair judicial process. Awareness and acceptance of the community courts is evidenced by the high and increasing number of confessions among the prisoners, numbering in the tens of thousands, and a willingness to provide testimony and evidence against other genocide suspects. (p. 62)

The above quote really highlights how those who are most responsible are often given luxurious situations in comparison to the rest of the perpetrators. However, the truth is that national justice sectors - especially in Rwanda - are simply not well equipped to try thousands of genocidiares in a relatively short time period. That is why more funding and assistance is necessary to immediately begin building up national justice sectors as well. If all the funding and attention goes to international tribunals, then national justice systems do not develop simultaneously as most people seem to hope - but simply continue to be underdeveloped and lack the resources needed to try massive numbers of perpetrators.

That’s why, in Rwanda, Gacaca seems to offer a promising alternative which requires much less funding since it is based at the community-level. However, Gacaca suffers from it’s own problems - most dangerously that it is fueled by the same ethnic tensions that resulted in the genocide, lacks due process and does not always provide ‘fair’ trials to the accused, and can result in another form of “victor’s justice.” This isn’t necessarily the most promising route to take in the long run, and the international community shouldn’t forget about national justice sectors while looking at alternative mechanisms like Gacaca.

Still, the idea of communities trying those responsible for the genocide and then reintegrating the perpetrators into their societies is indeed powerful - and can seem a more fair alternative to allowing perpetrators to languish indefinitely in national prisons. It is certainly a step forward, but is by no means a panacea.

Also, happy new year to all!

I ran across this interesting quote recently in this report:

Reverend Miguel d’Escoto Brockman of Nicaragua, President of the General Assembly, tried to frame the dialogue with a “concept paper” that argued that R2P was just colonialism in a new package. D’Escoto wrote that the correct way to eliminate genocide and other mass atrocities was to reform the world financial system, redistribute wealth, and reform the UN Security Council. He said in the UNGA dialogue, that “Recent and painful memories related to the legacy of colonialism, give developing countries strong reasons to fear that laudable motives can end up being misused, once more, to justify arbitrary and selective intervention against the weakest states. …We must take into account the prevailing lack of trust from most of the developing countries when it comes to the use of force for humanitarian reasons.”

And while his critique may represent one extreme, the controversy swirling around R2P has a number of countries concerned that R2P is merely a justification for interference by developed countries in the affairs of developing nations.

I find this comment extremely interesting — is the way we’re attempting to fight genocide today even an effective method of doing so? Though the Save Darfur movement has mobilized millions against genocide and created the first activist movement to do so, it hasn’t necessarily been effective in translating advocacy into action thus far. Perhaps the R2P concept must be part of a much larger process of reform and redistribution that might be more effective in the long run.

I don’t think that R2P will necessarily be misused by powerful countries to intervene in poorer countries. Indeed, countries like Sudan or other countries at risk for conflict/genocide are not necessarily countries the U.S. has an interest in. Despite the concept of R2P and the citizen movement, the U.S. hasn’t taken strong action on Darfur. The U.S. similarly may not have much interest in other at-risk countries.

But I would question, ultimately, whether the idea of R2P is even what is most necessary. As alluded to in the quote, we have to somehow be working towards prevention of genocide, towards a more just and equitable world order in which genocide would never be possible in the first place. Currently, we are so focused towards intervention that the larger piece of the puzzle - prevention - has almost been forgotten. Of course, the roots of genocide are in discrimination, inequality, and poverty. Working to eradicate these strands of hatred through development efforts might be a part of the prevention process. Rather than simply depending on individual countries to step in and play the savior, we need to simultaneously develop a longer-term vision and international framework for ensuring that genocide does not become possible anywhere in the future. While advocacy and R2P is necessary for Darfur, these tools may not be sufficient to prevent the emergence of genocide elsewhere in the future, and a more holistic strategy for prevention must be developed.

**Please forgive me for interrupting the Be the Change series — back to your regularly scheduled programming soon!

I’m taking an absolutely amazing class right now about Sudan, human rights, and US foreign policy. It has been so illuminating and challenging - it’s actually taught by the former Special Envoy, which is pretty amazing (sometimes I love Northwestern!). We’re reading amazing books, like Emma’s War which really traces the history of the Sudanese civil war beforehand, as well as talks about the moral difficulties encountered with humanitarian aid. I also am reading Darfur: A new history of a long war by the experts Julie Flint and Alex de Waal. We also have books by Paul Rusesabagina and Halima Bashir scheduled. Any activist needs to get ahold of these books. This is the kind of class that makes college worth it.

Truth be told, I barely understood the intricacies and nuances of what was going on in the region before I took the class (not that I understand it completely now, since I’m no expert on the topic, but I do have a much better sense). I mostly knew what was spewed out by Western media and by NGOs like Save Darfur – which is not really that illuminating, to be honest. I think it really speaks to how problematic Save Darfur and other advocacy groups like the Enough Project have been. If you think about it, Darfur is so well known that the conflict is now practically a household name in the US (not in a good way, of course), but how many of you can really tell me about the history of Darfur, and what’s happening there? The advocacy movement has been so successful at getting people to have a basic awareness of the issue — but that’s it. It stops there. It’s a basic understanding, not a deep one. I feel the issues in the region are so complex (and reading all these books has really drilled that into my mind - how Sudan is a place of so many divisions not simply based on ethnicity and religion, but also on economic development, presence of natural resources, culture, tribe and clan, and so much more.)  that it’s hard for any advocacy group to actually get people to understand that.

What worries me more, though, after thinking about is whether the movement for Darfur has done any good. What’s come out of it? Sure, the Obama administration has issued it’s new Sudan policy, but it seems like Obama thus far is doing even less than Bush had done (um, makes me wonder about the whole ‘Peace Prize’ thing)! The Bush administration actually had successful Darfur foreign policy - they played a primary role in negotiating the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) between the North and the South. I am doubtful about what’s going to happen with the Obama administration, but thus far Obama hasn’t proven foreign policy to be his strong point. Basically, it’s extremely difficult to change policy. I am also concerned because this is a movement for Sudan from America…not Sudan. Do we, as Americans, understand the best solutions to this conflict? Are we consulting with Sudanese people or at least, African people who know about the issue? So much money and effort and time has been generated for this cause. Has it been an effective movement? If not, what can be done better?

I’m also concerned about the 2011 referendum that’s coming up, where the South can vote to secede from Sudan altogether. Uh, considering the current government in Khartoum, I’m pretty sure the South’s going to want to secede. But it’s not all fun and games from here on out. The truth is, the South is pretty brutally divided amongst various groups as well. The SPLA often doesn’t have the full support of the South, and there have been horrific divisions and conflicts between various Southern tribes  (Nuer, Dinka, etc). Moreover, Khartoum definitely won’t be giving up the regions - many of them in the South or around the North/South border - because of significant oil in those areas. I was really happy to see, that in Obama’s Sudan policy there has been increased focus on mending the North-South divide. I really think that at all costs, civil war has to be prevented in the area — otherwise the referendum could incite horrific violence again. Read this good quote, from the awesome, new War and Peace blog on Change.org:

“The central regions located between the north and south including Abyei, Southern Kordofan, and the Blue Nile are still unstable while resting on disputed oil fields. And the minority tribes allegedly allied to the north who live in the south still tend to hold vendettas against their southern-allied neighbors, this is within Malakal, Jonglei, and elsewhere. So if, hypothetically, the south becomes independent, the defining of the border and oil field divisions will be an extremely delicate, if not bloody decades-long process. “

These are just a few of my rambling thoughts on the issue. Ultimately, I’m just wondering whether the activist movement has been effective at all. It’s difficult for me to wrap my head around activism and lobbying — it totally scares me that despite SO much popular mobilization, the result might not be effective. But ultimately what the U.S. does IS going to be extremely significant. Our stance on foreign policy towards Darfur can definitely solve the crisis.

The question is: what’s our stance? And how can the activist movement be more effective in getting the U.S. to take the best possible stance and actions to deal with the conflict? No doubt, it’s a hard question, but it’s one we have to think critically about if change is going to occur.

Oh, and just for laughs, check this out. Al-Bashir himself has gotten social media savvy and set up his own website: Albashir.sd. What’s next, a blog?!