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Three contrasting approaches for 'Dealing with the Past': collective amnesia, retributive justice and prioritising truthDr Andrew Rigby, Professor of Peace Studies and Director of the Centre for Forgiveness and Reconciliation at Coventry University, provides here a brief overview of the main options facing regimes seeking to deal constructively with the legacy of past abuses. IntroductionI had a colleague who paid regular visits to a therapist. He had been caught in the suffocating mass of football fans at the Hillsborough football stadium in Sheffield on 15th April 1989 when 96 were killed. By his own admission he had been unable to come to terms with that traumatic experience. It still haunted him. Whilst proclaiming himself a 'survivor' who campaigned for a formal acknowledgement of the true causes of the tragedy, he remained a victim and his victim-hood was one of his core identities. In April 2002 I had the opportunity to spend some time with another survivor, this time of the Rwandan genocide of 1994. Her husband and other members of her family had been slaughtered. She escaped by hiding in the bush. Since then she had become active in the support network for the widows of genocide victims, but had been criticised by some of her friends and colleagues who could not understand why she had not attempted to find out who was responsible for the deaths of her loved ones. For her this would serve no purpose. Nothing would bring them back. It did not mean she loved them any the less. The important thing was to work constructively to help the survivors, not focus on those that had been lost. Unlike my friend from Rwanda, many people in Cambodia find it difficult to talk about the pain of the past, particularly of the terrible years of 'auto-genocide' between 1975 and 1979 under the revolutionary regime of the Khmer Rouge. There are many reasons for this, but one significant factor is that Cambodian culture deems it inappropriate to discuss personal matters in any kind of group setting. Therefore people deal with the pain of the past in a privatised fashion, whilst focusing on the challenges of surviving the present. The purpose of these three stories or observations is to illustrate just some of the myriad ways people can choose to deal with the pain of the past, according to their personality, circumstances and culture. The awareness of such a plurality of modes of adaptation should cause us to treat with considerable caution the claims of those who seem to believe that 'one method fits all' when dealing with individual and collective trauma. Typical of such an approach is the following statement:
Just as individuals can pursue different strategies to cope with the painful memories of loss and bereavement, so collectivities have before them a range of options for dealing with the divisions and the destructive conflicts of the past. But before moving on to review some of these options we need to ask the basic question: What do we mean by 'dealing with the past'? Dealing with the past?The 'past' is not something fixed with an independent existence, a once and for all set of events. The 'past' is the remembered past, and as such it is something that is constructed and reproduced in a multitude of ways. In other words, what we refer to as the 'past' is our historical memory of a particular period of the past, and our particular memory is just one of a range of alternative memories (or interpretations) that it is possible to hold. From this it follows that from the perspective of conflict transformation people can have too much of the wrong type of memory, one such that the pain occasioned by the divisions and conflicts of the past never dies. As a consequence the hurt and the resentments are reproduced from generation to generation into the future - a future that is over-determined by the remembered past. For the bereaved and dispossessed everywhere, that which they have lost can never be restored to them. But, particularly in the case of societies emerging out of division with a bitter legacy of human rights abuses, it is vital for the sake of peace that people manage somehow to come to terms with their loss and prepare to move on. This capacity to let go of a particular memory of the past, to forge another memory or interpretation that allows people to relinquish the quest for revenge is at the heart of what many understand by forgiveness. Unless people manage to forsake their determination to 'get even', there can be no new beginning, no transformation of relationship; everyone will remain imprisoned in a particular history (or mythology), recycling old crimes and hatreds - with the lived present dominated by a particular collective memory of the past. So, by 'dealing with past' we are referring to a process comparable to that of forgiveness. Forgiveness can be at the interpersonal level - forgiving identifiable perpetrators. It can also be at the more anonymous collective level of 'forgiving history' - coming to terms with the pain of the past in such a way as to free oneself from the determining force of a particular collective memory, forming a new memory that creates the symbolic space for people to orient themselves towards a new future which allows for the possibility of reconciliation with past opponents. The manner in which such a memory can be constructed is illustrated in this observation from a Rwandan government official in 1995 when asked by Priscilla Hayner 'Do you want to remember or to forget?':
The necessary conditions for 'dealing with the past'Despite reservations about over-generalising about such processes across cultures, certain elements seem to be conducive to laying the past to rest in a constructive, future-oriented manner.
Managing the tension between the values of peace, justice and truthThese constitutive elements or values of peace, justice and truth that help people forgive the past do not rest easily together. Too great a concern with ensuring peace and security and avoiding a resumption of violence can mean that truth and justice are forfeited. But too active a pursuit of justice in societies emerging out of division can result in a return to violent conflict and bloodshed. Moreover, if the value of truth is prioritised above all else, then this can come at the cost of justice. After all, why should perpetrators disclose the full extent of their crimes if they will thereby incriminate themselves and condemn themselves to judicial punishment. Which particular value or set of values is prioritised, and the consequent strategy for pursuing them by regimes of societies emerging out of destructive conflict and division depends to a considerable degree on the balance of power encountered by the new regime and the culture of the society. Basically we can identify three 'ideal-type' modes for dealing with the past: forget it for the sake of peace and security, seek out the perpetrators in pursuit of justice, and acknowledge the suffering of the victims and their stories so that their truth might be known. Amnesia and amnesty - for the sake of peace and securityIn 1975 the Spanish dictator Franco died. He came to power through a military rebellion and subsequent civil war, and after his victory in 1939 his regime became infamous for its barbaric treatment of the defeated Republicans and the repression practised throughout the country. Yet after his death and the transition to democratic rule there was no purge, but rather an exercise in collective amnesia. Everything was subordinated to the peaceful transition to democratic rule - and this exercise in letting bygones be bygones would appear to have worked, the roots of democracy in Spain have deepened. In the Spanish case this 'pact of oblivion' was made by elites in order to ensure political stability, fearing that any attempt to sully the reputation of Franco and purge the military and security forces would lead to a coup attempt. Moreover, during the period of transition civil society in Spain was underdeveloped. The result was that there was no significant pressure from sources outside the state for any kind of truth-telling exercise or the prosecution of the many perpetrators of human rights abuses. However, the desire to cover up the past can also be the wish of people at the grassroots. This is particularly so if many of them share a past which they would rather forget because of their active involvement in, or complicity with, the evil that was perpetrated in their name. For people who have been involved in mass violence such as can happen in a civil war, it can certainly seem as if the past is best left where it belongs, in the past. To introduce it into the present might lead to further bloodshed, conflict and pain - the reopening of the old wounds. This has been the fear of many Cambodians concerned about the possible repercussions of attempts to hold trials of Khmer Rouge cadres implicated in the genocide of 1975-79. Writing in December 1998 one Cambodian journalist expressed his view with painful honesty, 'I know the Khmer Rouge are bad and criminals, but there are too many to convict and some remain strong. To safeguard the living it is better not to seek justice for the dead.' Purging the perpetrators in pursuit of a kind of justiceAt the opposite pole from amnesia is the active attempt to police the past and prosecute those guilty of perpetrating human rights abuses. Here the example comes to mind of the prosecution of Nazi war criminals and their collaborators that took place at Nuremberg and elsewhere in Europe after the Second World War. More recently there have been the purges and 'lustration' processes carried out in some of the former state socialist regimes of Central and Eastern Europe, and the International Criminal Tribunals for Former Yugoslavia and for Rwanda. In general one can say that the path of retributive justice is likely to be followed when the new regime has come to power as a result of a comprehensive victory over those who are the potential targets of such a purge. In such circumstances where the new regime feels sufficiently confident of its power and ability to pursue justice without risking political and social stability, then the alleged perpetrators of human rights abuses are likely to be prosecuted. Many arguments can be put forward to support the active pursuit of justice in the sense of punishing wrong-doers, but perhaps the most important one is that by such actions the culture of impunity within which so many abuses flourish can be challenged. Such is the theory, but the practice invariably leaves some room for doubt. The debate over the Nuremberg trials is still ongoing. Was it due process or revenge? The accused were not prosecuted by their peers but by their conquerors, and as such many believe that it was a perverted 'victor's justice' that was served there. The more recent experience of attempts to punish those responsible for the abuse of human rights under the state socialist regimes of Central and Eastern Europe, to purge them and their collaborators from positions of influence and public office, leads to the conclusion that such efforts degenerate all too easily into witch-hunts motivated by narrow political considerations rather than a concern with justice. One of the main criticisms of trials and purges as a means of laying the past to rest is that it presumes too simple a distinction between the guilty and the innocent, the perpetrators and the victims, an assumption that all too often fails to acknowledge the moral dilemmas faced by those seeking to survive under oppressive regimes and in times of violence. For example, in a recent publication from the Cambodian Documentation Centre the researcher Meng Try Ea has interviewed former guards, interrogators and gaolers who worked at the infamous torture centre in Phnom Penh, Tuol Sleng which was known as S-21. In his conclusion Meng Try Ea reviews the lives of these children who were removed from their villages and homes and indoctrinated to despise their parents and consider Angkor (the organisation) as their family:
Karl Jaspers, reflecting on the holocaust, distinguished between four types of guilt: the criminal guilt of those who actually committed the crimes; the political guilt of those who helped such people get to power; the moral guilt of those who stood by doing nothing as the crimes were being committed; and finally the metaphysical guilt of those who survived whilst others were killed, thereby failing in their responsibility to do all that they might have done to preserve the standards of civilised humanity. Trials might be valid processes for determining criminal guilt, but they are not best suited to coping with all the different forms, shades and degrees of culpability. Moreover trials have their limitations when it comes to unveiling the truth about the past. They are combative encounters where defendant and prosecutor compete to get their version of the truth accepted as authoritative. As such trials can serve as important morality plays, symbolic history lessons that show goodness can triumph over evil and the guilty cannot act with impunity. But they are not the best means for dealing with all the subtleties of the past. For that another approach seems best suited - that of the truth commission. Prioritising truth, but whose truth and what about justice?Whereas purges and prosecutions are aimed at punishing the perpetrators of crimes against their fellow citizens, the prime concern of the truth commission approach to addressing the pains of the past is with the victims. The aim is to identify them and to uncover and formally acknowledge the wrongs done to them. In a number of cases this exercise is implemented not only in pursuit of the value of truth but also as a necessary step towards the establishment of some system of compensation for victims. The intention is that through such a process of unveiling the past and receiving reparations former victims might be enabled to come to terms with their anger and bitterness. The pattern was set by the 'National Commission on the Disappeared' established in Argentina in 1983 which tried to uncover the secrecy surrounding the torture, killing and disappearance of the thousands of victims of the military regime. Chile followed its neighbour's example in 1991, and more recently there has been the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission. The advocates of the truth commission approach argue that they are central to the promotion of reconciliation in divided societies, healing wounds that trials and purges can deepen. In the literature one often comes across quotes from survivors to the effect that they will only be able to forgive and move on once they know the 'final destiny' of those they lost. Supporters also claim that some form of amnesty is necessary if perpetrators are to admit to their past crimes. But the history that is revealed by truth commissions can only be a partial truth. The very process of uncovering a part of the truth and granting it the status of official, public and authoritative record can serve to cover up other aspects of the past. For instance, in the cases of the Latin American truth commissions there was no identification of the actual individuals responsible for abuses. From the perspective of those that survived this meant that the perpetrators continued to enjoy impunity and justice was forfeited, leading some critics to portray truth commissions as a relatively cost-free way to meet popular demands for an accounting, creating the impression that the past has been dealt with, so that people would be prepared to move on and face the future together - a future based on victims and survivors becoming reconciled to their loss. It was because of such criticisms that the South Africans introduced the element of conditional amnesty into their model. To be free from the fear of prosecution perpetrators were required to confess their crimes and convince the Amnesty Committee that these had been 'political' in nature and were not committed out of personal malice or for private gain. Despite this innovation, there are grounds for believing that there is a growing sense of resentment amongst large swathes of the South African population at the manner in which so many perpetrators escaped punishment and the failure to implement the reparations system as a means of making amends to those who suffered under the apartheid regime. Justice as 'putting things right'The bitterness that comes from a painful past can be sweetened to some degree by offers of compensation and reparations. New regimes can try to compensate the primary and secondary victims of violence and human rights violations with cash payments, educational bursaries, access to health care, the construction of memorials and other forms of material and symbolic reparations. Whatever the material benefit that might accrue to the victims of the past by such means, as important is the symbolic recognition of their status. But how do you address the issue of reparations for the vast majority of people who were not immediately and directly affected by the violence and abuse - the people who were not forced out of their homes, raped, tortured, or dispossessed but who were denied the opportunity to fulfil their potential as human beings because of the conditions under which they were required to live during the period of conflict and/or repression? How do you acknowledge their suffering? How do you compensate them for the impoverished lives they endured? It is doubtful that the pain of the past can be left behind and reconciliation in any deep sense approached without addressing the structures of power, inequality and exclusion that constituted the framework within which the violence of the old order was perpetrated and endured. After all, how can people begin to orient towards a shared future if their everyday life reminds them of the pain of the past? For people to move together along the path of reconciliation it is crucial that a sustained effort is made to transform the structures and circumstances of everyday life that embody and perpetuate the old divisions between 'us' and 'them', between perpetrator and victim. Only when people feel that the evils of the past will not return and believe that 'things are moving in the right direction' will they be in a position to loosen the bonds of the past, relinquish the impulse for revenge and orient towards the future. In other words, reconciliation needs to be grounded in a sustained effort at restitution and 'putting things right'. Andrew Rigby References
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