Scholars at Risk Network!

Hello from the exotic port of New York City!
I greatly apologize that my first post is coming so late in the summer.

This summer I am working at Scholars at Risk Network (http://scholarsatrisk.nyu.edu). The organization is based out of NYU but is basically independent from the happenings at the University.
The organization is an international network of higher education institutions banding together to promote and protect academic freedom. The primary activity of the organization is to assist scholars who are under threat in the country in which they are working by providing them with sanctuary. SAR works to place scholars who are being threatened or have suffered violence because of their academic work at a temporary position at one of the Network’s many partner institutions of higher education across the globe. The scholar may be a given a position such as a visiting researcher or a visiting professor.
My internship, however, is more aligned with the education and advocacy activities of the organization. As the legal intern at the organization, my role is to help coordinate the organization’s work with international legal and quasi-legal standards and mechanisms. The goal is to promote and protect academic freedom as a principal, value, and legal norm at the international level. As far as I understand, the field of academic freedom in international human rights is relatively new; it is exciting to be working on a legal principle just beginning to come into its own.
Since I received my Masters Degree in Human Rights from the University of Oslo in Oslo, Norway (a proud member of SAR) before I came to Fordham Law I have a strong background knowledge in the workings of the international human rights legal system. Having this background knowledge is of great help in my work at the organization because it allows me to navigate relatively easily though the UN and regional systems. This is of particular importance because at the moment I am working on several projects requiring just that type of skill.
Currently I am working on creating and editing sections of a online curriculum geared toward NGOs, academic freedom advocates, victims of attacks on academic freedom, higher education institutional staff and faculty and other important stakeholders. The section I just completed locates all the legal and quasi-legal standards of academic freedom. It tracks academic freedom rights through the UN system, the Council of Europe, the Inter-American system, the African system, as well as regional documents unconnected with the international human rights institutions. This type of work helps to show the outline (outer limits) of the principle of academic freedom as it stands today and helps to point to the possible directions the principle could take in the future. It also gives substance to the principle through the already established working methods and standards of the systems in which it is situated. Since academic freedom seems to be in a definitional stage, having a map of its placement within the field of human rights could be a very helpful tool for the shaping of the principle in the near future.
I am currently working on a section of the website which describes the various complaint mechanisms available in the human rights world which could be used to push the principle of academic freedom further as a norm but can also, and perhaps primarily, be used as a way to give justice to victims of intolerance and abuse. Once again, I am so happy to have had my background knowledge in this subject. I am relatively familiar with all of the complaint mechanisms (yay for the new CESCR OP!) and so am able to push the project forward at a good pace.
My future projects include helping to either edit or reshape (it is yet to be seen) a policy paper grounding academic freedom in some type of already developed human right (or rights). This is a highly conceptual task and is a challenge for any human rights activist. It is nice to be in a position in which human rights advocacy is at work at a very basic level, in this case at the definitional level. I am not a person who is usually comfortable taking a protest-like stance in regards to advocacy; rather I enjoy the type of practical and collaborative advocacy that takes place at the legal level of international human rights.
Another future project will be, and I am working on it now as I while-away at my other work, to formulate and organize the role a “legal officer” that SAR will hire at some point in the future. So if anyone reading is interested in a job in the future…keep SAR in mind (smile).

That is all the updates I will give you for now. I will hopefully write more soon. I know perhaps you don’t believe that I will write because it has taken me so long to contribute now….again my apologies. The problem is, at this point, that after a series of housing mishaps I am still without internet at my apartment (but at least I have a place to live!). I am up late at the Fordham library (ahhh the air of first year still lingers here) writing this since I don’t have time to do this type of thing at work. Soon, very soon, I shall have internet where I live and I will be better at keeping in touch. Sorry for the delay and my apologies for my somewhat lame excuse.

In the meantime I’ll leave you with thinking of how much we all have benefitted in our lives from the market place of ideas, how it takes courage to say what one thinks and knows, and how it may take even greater courage to respect a scholarly viewpoint one doesn’t agree with…

Best wishes! Happy travels to all the other Leitner interns!
-Crissy

Muraho, Bonjour, Hello

At first glance, you would not believe the horror stories that took place in Rwanda fifteen years ago. Under the (recent) blanket of security that the government, under the leadership of Paul Kagame, provides, investments and development are under way. The capital, Kigali, boasts a new 24/7 Western-style supermarket (except on the mornings of the last Saturday of every month, where all businesses close so that everyone is free to participate in communal work day) and several Starbucks-eque coffee shops; the government has even initiated a project installing high-speed fiber optic internet cables across the country. Even the small town where George and I live is experiencing the growth; a new hotel, whose construction had just barely begun upon our arrival, is set to open this week. As if the fiber optics wasn't enough, the government, eager to jump into the 21st century, has recently proclaimed English an official state language even though the uneducated masses speak Kinyarwandan while the elites speak French.

Yet the horrors of the 1994 genocide are constantly lurking beneath the surface. Amputees—those fortunate to survive the machete blows of the interhamwe—commonly beg on the streets. Many Rwandans who I have met, in exchanging pleasantries, have proceeded to ask if both (or any) of my parents are alive. The vast majority of the students at the Institute of Legal Practice and Development (ILPD) who I have spoken with told me that they returned to Rwanda in 1994 from the Democratic Republic of Congo, Burundi, Uganda, or elsewhere, only after the RPF (the rebel forces who had been locked in a several-year struggle against the genocidal regime) had taken control of the country and ended the genocide. On the national scale, the genocide and its aftermath are constantly both at the forefront of the national consciousness and forcibly suppressed. The government has allotted specific times of the year to both mourn the victims of the genocide and celebrate the victory of the RPF (such as Liberation Day, July 4). Every town has a genocide memorial, visible from a distance in its purple and white shawl. Yet the government has also forbidden using the ethnically divisive terms “Hutu” and “Tutsi” in teaching about the genocide, out of fear that the terms themselves will unleash a new round of killings.

This tension – between security, out of a fear of the past, and democratic freedoms, out of concern for the future – predominates much of the discourse in Rwandan society. Many people have told me that freedoms are meaningless without security (they, of course, support the government) while others have alleged that the talk of the threat of yesterday combined with the militias lurking in neighboring Congo are just a ploy to allow the government to control the opposition.

Our work at the ILPD is very much part Rwanda’s national process of rebuilding its institutions in order to promote both security and freedom for the future. Since the vast majority of the Rwandan judiciary was killed during the genocide, most of the judges and prosecutors here have very little legal training and experience. Further, in an effort to re-orient itself from francophone Central Africa to anglophone East Africa, Rwanda is in the process of transforming its legal system from the Continental civil system to the Anglo-American common law system. The ILPD therefore serves to train practicing judges and prosecutors in the practicalities of the law, from sensitivity trainings to judicial opinion-writing seminars. In our capacity, George and I are busy researching and writing a benchbook on gender-based violence, (hopefully) to be used by Rwandan judges as a guideline.

I hope I do not paint too depressing a picture with all of this heavy discussion of genocide and politics. We are having a great time in this fascinating country. We trekked the mountain gorillas by the border with the DRC and just this weekend took a trip to neighboring Burundi. George will write more about our zany adventures and share his light-hearted insights soon. So stay posted.

Foundation for Human Rights Initiative (Kampala)

Oli otya? How are you? I am spending my summer in Kampala, Uganda, working as an intern with the Foundation for Human Rights Initiative. Overall, my time in Uganda has been an amazing experience, due in large part to the welcoming attitude of most Ugandans. Everyone I’ve met, including boda-boda (motorcycle taxis) drivers, greets me with “Mzungu, how are you?” and enthusiastic questions about Barack Obama, who is treated like nothing less than royalty. FHRI is a national organization working to raise awareness and respect for human rights within the country through research and monitoring, human rights advocacy, and provision of legal services. As one of the prominent human rights organizations in the country, FHRI has programs addressing virtually every issue in Uganda. In my time at FHRI, I’ve been assigned to two program areas—the Right to Reparations and the Paralegal Advisory Services (PAS).

The Reparations program provides legal services for torture victims to assist them in bringing cases before courts and the Uganda Human Rights Commission. However, while these cases have frequently been successful, the Government of Uganda has been reluctant to pay reparations, citing budgetary restraint among other concerns. One of my first assignments was to conduct legal research on international precedents to legally enforce the reparations awards, to support a writ of mandamus against the Attorney General. While the research was interesting, it’s not clear how willing the court will be to apply international precedent, but we’re hoping for some success when the tribunal reconvenes in August.


The PAS program is a national service operating within police stations, courthouses and prisons to provide basic legal aid through paralegals and social workers. Started to address problems of congestion and delays within criminal justice institutions, PAS attempts to create linkages between the supply (institutional) and demand (users) side of criminal justice system. During my first week, I spent time with the paralegals within Kampala, observing their daily activities. Primarily, the paralegals work to educate suspects and prisoners on their rights—including basic lessons such as “innocent until proven guilty”—and to teach them how to advocate for those rights. In addition, the paralegals follow up with criminal justice actors to ensure that files are moving through the system efficiently. Armed with that background knowledge, we set out on a whirlwind tour of Uganda to officially launch PAS in 9 districts—hitting Western, Eastern, and finally Northern Uganda within 20 days. During this time, I crossed the equator twice, the Nile four times, and learned how to say a few words in approximately 9 different languages.

While most of my time was spent working on the launches, these trips provided me with the opportunity to explore parts of the county that I otherwise would not have seen. By far the most powerful was our trip to the north, which is still dealing with the effects of decades of conflict with the LRA rebel group, as well as the spillover effects from conflicts in the DRC and the Sudan. Although army convoys are no longer required, the road into Gulu is still lined by refugee and IDP camps, many of which remain occupied because the residents cannot or will not return to their villages. An entire generation—our generation—has grown up amidst this conflict with food, shelter, and basic necessities provided by various UN agencies. Even though there is relative peace, many of these people do not know their villages and lack the skills to provide for themselves even if they could return. Not to mention that the development efforts have focused primarily on a few larger towns, leaving the distant regions without infrastructure and often insecure. This being my first direct exposure to the aftermath of conflict, I came home overwhelmed with questions about transitional justice, development, and the role of international organizations. However, I was also struck by the intense pride that Northern Ugandans have for their home. In Kampala, I’ve heard a lot of cynicism about the government, democracy, corruption and development—some of which seems fairly understandable. In the North, despite the desolation and poverty, everyone wanted to introduce me to their culture and to tell me about their ideas to improve the region. Somehow despite everything they have been through, they remain hopeful.

I wanted to post some pictures, and add some reflections on an anti-homosexuality bill that is currently before Parliament, but the internet connection is spotty and I've already written a lot. I hope everyone's experiences are going as well as mine!

Robbery in Managua: Day II

Sorry about our delay in posting, but Katy, Jenny and I are finally at a location with good internet and our planning on posting several blogs over the course of the next week. I appologize that the blog is also not more intellectually substative. Nevertheless, the blog discusses an event which has deeply affected and shaped our summer experience.

The Robbery:

At 5:30pm on our second full day in Nicaragua, my two collogues (Jenny Plaster and Katy Mayall) and I hailed a cab in Nicaragua’s bustlingstate capital, Managua. Though the manager of our hostel and our good friend Carlos (a Nicaraguan) both told us the taxi ride would cost around 150 cordoba ($7 US), we instantaneously hopped inside the firstcab we encountered, without even bargaining, after the driver offered us the deal of a lifetime: he would take us for fifty cordoba.

Five minutes into a Jenny Plaster narrative, the cabbie pulled over to the side of the road to inquire into the traveling destination of two men: “Thirty cordoba” the driver asserted, moments before the two men agreed and climbed into the back seat of the cab next to Katy and I. We did not blink an eye at this curious Nicaraguan custom, since we had shared a cab earlier in the morning with another group of strangers. Oddly enough the driver that morning tried to overcharge us by tagging on to our fare “a protection fee”. We resisted his ridiculous offer until he finally agreed to take us for a far more reasonable price: taxi cabs in Nicaragua do not use meters.

Anyway, not even one minute later in the midst of Jenny’s continuining tale, the inside of the cab exploded with violence. One of the men began attacking Jenny, punching her in the face and then strangling her with her seatbelt. The other man pulled out a gun, firing it out the window next to Jenny’s head. He then began screaming directions at Katy and I. Since my Spanish is abysmal at best, I had absolutely no clue what our hijackers were saying. Yet, before I knew it, I had emptied my pockets and sealed my eyes shut as requested. The hijacking lasted about twenty five minutes as our robbers emptied our bags and wallets of all our possessions: Katy's brand new digital camera, Jenny's video camera, over $400 US dollars, Jenny’s prescription drugs, and various debit and credit cards. They inquired into the nature of each of our charge cards in order to find out if they were debit or credit. If we answered debit, they wrote down our pin numbers: Katy gave them all of her correct information; Jenny provided them with a false pin number for her debit card, and I denied that either of my cards was a debit card: a complete fabrication.

The robbers, strangely enough, then preceded to give us back ourbags, wallets, passports, credit cards and 120 cordoba ($6) for cabfare. We have various theories why, but I believe its because we madethem laugh (Jenny told them they would like her prescription painkillers) and we managed to inform them why we were in the country: to work with the poor. Throughout the altercation, the cabbie was zipping through both busy thoroughfares and far less traveled back roads.

Finally, the car stopped. We quickly scanned our surroundings, (no lights, cars, people, or houses) we were on a back road surrounded by fields. No! They ordered us out of the car, beginning with Jenny. My heart collapsed with fear and dread: where were they taking Jenny? We pleaded for our safety, for them to just take our things and go, to not seperate us. They kept yelling at us to get out of the car, threatening our lives if we did not obey them. One by one we exited, until we were all out of the car.

The moment our feet touched pavement, we ran for our lives towards a singular light in the distance, which served as our lighthouse. Fifteen feet from the source of the light (a security office), we began scaling an iron rod gate the final obstacle between us and whatwe perceived as a haven of safety and security. Half way up the fence, however, the security guard came charging out of the room with a shotgun. We fell to the ground and my two friends began pleading with him to help us. We needed to know where we were, so we could call our friend Carlos to pick us up: (miraculously the robbers did not find our cell phone, which was in the one pocket (my front right) which they neglected to check. Though they specifically asked us before letting us go whether we had a cell phone, we elected to lie, which was paying huge dividends now. Despite our hysteric pleas for the security guard’s assistance, he refused to tell us where we were. Carlos was in his car ready to pick us up, yet the stupid security guard refused to talk with him or to give us directions. With Jenny huddling against the wall crying, I surveyed our surroundings and located a sign about fifty feet away, indicating we were in a cemetery. We called Carlos; he was on his way.

Five minutes later, we spotted a motorcycle approaching in the distance from the other side of the fence. We asked the security guard who it was; he did not respond. What in the world was happening? As the motorcycle drew closer, the security guard's silence became deafening. We decided to run, hiding ourselves in the darkness of the night on the back side of the gate. Moments later, we spotted a second set of headlights and heard the roar of an automobile engine flying up the street on our side of the fence. As it pulled within fifty feet, we saw Carlos. It was over.

The robbery was the most terrifying experience of my life, it taught me how vulnerable/helpless one becomes in the presence of a gun and reminded me that Jenny, Katy and I represented highly visible symbols of wealth in a very poor country. Though Nicaragua is the safest country in Latin America, my friend Tim (who has lived in Columbia, Nicaragua, and Mexico) summed it up best when he told me he was recently robbed in Montreal - Canada. A city not really known for its high crime rate. Though Jenny, Katy and I discussed the possibility of coming home early or simply not returning to Managua, in the end we decided to complete the work we came here to do, but to use more commonsense in the process. Though I desperatly longed to return to the safety and comfort of home, my two twenty-two year old collogues simply refused to consider leaving. What message would our departure send to the young female victims of sexual abuse we just finished working with in Managua?

I want to conclude this blog with a poem that was written on Mother Theresa’s bedroom wall, which challenges me in my moments of doubt to continue to pursue social justice.

The Poem:

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.Love them anyway.
If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives. Do good anyway.
If you are successful, you win false friends and true enemies.Succeed anyway.
The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.Do good anyway.
Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.Be honest and frank anyway.
The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down bythe smallest men and women with the smallest minds.Think big anyway.
People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.Fight for a few underdogs anyway.
What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.Build anyway.
People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.Help people anyway.
Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth.Give the world the best you have anyway.

Scott Wagner

Namaste!

This post is written jointly by Matthew Putorti and Marc Zemel, both interns at Advocacy Forum in Kathmandu, Nepal.

Photo: Overlooking Kathmandu Valley from a Buddhist temple in the Nagarjun Forest

In many ways, the city of Kathmandu serves as metaphor for the political situation in Nepal: it is chaotic, disorderly, and polluted. But there’s also something captivating about it. Nepal has always attracted international visitors who come looking for adventure, enlightenment, or maybe both. Now, in equal measure, it is attracting international human rights activists who are attempting to help deal with the legacy of Nepal’s civil war that pitted the Maoists, political parties, and the monarchy (which was closely aligned with the army) against each other. The war, which lasted from 1996 until 2006, left about 13,000 people dead and many more disappeared and tortured. It also turned the world’s only Hindu kingdom into an officially secular democracy.

Since the war’s end, the political situation in Nepal could be categorized as anything but stable. And this is still the case. The most recent coalition government was formed by twenty-two parties. There are almost daily protests somewhere in the country – whether it is an ethnic group calling for autonomy or a political party frustrated with the lack of progress. Whenever influential groups are particularly upset or enraged, they call for bandhs, or strikes, which close all businesses, schools, and roads. Sometimes things turn violent. Regionally, Nepal plays hosts to thousands of Tibetan and Bhutanese refugees. About the only thing that can be relied upon with any certainty are the scheduled daily power cuts that occur because demand is greater than supply (twice each day there are two-hour cuts; this is much improved from several months ago when there was no power for up to eighteen hours each day).

Dealing with this situation and leading the human rights charge is Advocacy Forum (AF), a local NGO formed in 2001 with whom Marc and I are interning this summer. AF works to promote the rule of law, collects information on the human rights situation, represents victims of human rights violations, and uses international law to confront the culture of impunity. It is one of the most well-respected human rights organizations in Asia and its executive director, Nepali lawyer Mandira Sharma, has received Human Rights Watch’s annual prize.

For my part, I am working in the transitional justice department. Transitional justice (TJ) encompasses the processes and mechanisms through which a transitional society – one going from war or authoritarian government to peace and democracy - addresses past human rights violations. Mechanisms employed for this purpose might include truth commissions, reparation programs, prosecutions, and institutional reform. Like in many other situations, the needs of marginalized and minority communities are often overlooked in transitional justice programs. As such, I am writing a guide that will be used to teach human rights defenders about how to ensure that women victims receive justice during this transitional time.

Despite its lackluster legacy with respect to human rights and its current precarious political position, Nepal is a fascinating place – and a safe one to visit. Having been here for only a month, I can see why people for centuries have trekked here from around the world. And there is hope that with continued pressure from organizations like AF, Nepal will rid itself of a culture of impunity and truly respect the human rights of all people.

Photo: Durbar Sqaure, Patan

Marc Zemel:

The country seems to have changed quite a bit since I spent five months here in 2005. At that time, the king enjoyed absolute control with the pretense of fighting a Maoist insurgency that the democratic parties proved inept at controlling, cell phones were banned and the palace in Kathmandu was a forbidden fortress, symbolizing royal supremacy. Now, the monarchy is powerless, I have a mobile phone, the palace is a museum for all to enter and the Maoists are the largest party in the legislature. But the peace agreement signed in 2006 seems quite fragile. The Maoists’ arms are superficially locked up at UN supervised sites and the army is resistant to incorporate the Maoist fighters into its ranks (a provision of the peace agreement). There is also a deadline to draft a new constitution by May 2010, which seems unrealistic considering the difficulty with which the new government is appointing a cabinet and the fundamental disagreement regarding the powers of the Prime Minister. But only time will uncover the result of this struggle. Stranger things have happened.

As for my work, I am currently doing research on Human Rights Committee (the treaty body of the ICCPR) jurisprudence surrounding adequate compensation/reparations for enforced disappearances and drafting a letter to the Committee in response to the Nepali government’s interim relief offer in the first ever case brought before the Human Rights Committee from Nepal. Advocacy Forum represented the widow of a disappeared person who took the case to the Human Rights Committee after she failed to get reparation in Nepal. In response to this first “decision” (officially termed a “View” because of its non-binding nature) from the Committee in October 2008, the Nepali government offered a pitiful sum of money and a promise to have the case investigated by a special commission for disappearances which the government has failed to establish since promising it as part of the peace agreement of November 2006. I have also been working a bit on a project aiming to incorporate human rights into the Nepali police-training curriculum and compiling a summary report on police torture of children destined for the Special Rapporteur.

Photo: Tika stand outside Pashupatinath Temple

Sawasdee Ka from Thailand!

Thailand is still incredible, and my internship is as interesting as ever! My main assignment for this internship is to write a paper regarding human trafficking in Thailand. My supervisor left the topic very open to allow me to write about any aspect that interests me, so I have chosen to write about §49 of the new Thai law to prevent and suppress human trafficking. This section states that if a foreigner enters Thailand illegally, and then falls victim to human trafficking, the government is not allowed to charge that victim with the illegal entry. The interesting part is that the police force decides whether the person is actually a victim of human trafficking. In many cases it is obvious that they are or are not, however the definition of human trafficking is a little fuzzy when it comes to borderline cases. For example, there are often cases when workers enter illegally for legitimate work, only to find themselves abused or exploited. Many social workers and legal professionals see these cases as those of trafficking, however one of the Thai government’s goals is to cut down on the extreme amount of illegal immigration, so police officers are likely to decide that those foreigners are victims of human smuggling, rather than trafficking, so that they can be charged and punished.
Before the section was part of the law, it was an agreement in a memorandum of understanding between the Thai government and NGO’s. At that point many officers completely disregarded it, defending their decisions by stressing that MOU’s are not law. Many social workers and NGO workers here have hopes that since the agreement was added to the law, officers will acknowledge it. Even if they do acknowledge it in obvious cases of trafficking, it is likely that a lot of them will disregard it in borderline cases simply by deciding that the victims are not those of human trafficking.
Right now I am in the middle of the Surat Thani province visiting the Sri Surat Shelter, where I will have the opportunity to interview prosecutors, social workers, and police officers about their feelings toward the new law, the prevention of illegal immigration, and their predictions concerning victim identification in light of the new law. This is the second shelter I’ve visited. It is so interesting to learn about the victims that they protect, and the types of protection that they provide. Last week I was able to accompany a group from the first shelter to labor court where they were given the wages that had been withheld by their abusive employer. I also had the opportunity to sit in on a criminal trial for girls from Laos who were trafficked into prostitution. While it is sad to meet these girls and learn about their experiences, it is very moving to watch their faces when they win cases and find out that they can go back to their home countries. Today I met girls as young as 13 who were brought in from the streets of Koh Samui, where they were forced to sell flowers in the streets all day, and given little or no food or care.
Surat Thani is so different from Bangkok! While in Bangkok there are foreigners (called farang) everywhere, here I think I just may be the only one, which attracts a lot of stares and giggling- especially when I try to speak the small amount of Thai that I know! Aside from the people that I’ve met through the shelter, the only English speaking person I know is the fabulous hostel owner nicknamed “Ma.” At first I was skeptical about staying at an hourly hotel with an owner named “Ma,” but she has been incredible, driving me wherever I need to go and even taking me to see the night market in the main town. Tomorrow I will go to a training program for victim identification, and then back to Bankok! Can’t wait to share more!
Best, Jill.

A distant view of Mt. Meru- the mountain overlooking Arusha and the ICTR

Hamjambo! (Swahili for hello all!)

Yeah, I know exactly what you all are thinking at the moment- what an amazing grasp of swahili! And you would be right. I know a whole fifteen words. Including hello, thank you and "crazy white person."

I am writing this from Arusha, Tanzania, where I am working for the United Nations International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda. As you may or may not know, the ICTR was established in 1994 and the first trial was held in 1997. At last count, there have been thirty convictions, five acquittals and eleven trials still in progress. The ICTR is divided into three sections: Chambers, Office of the Prosecution and Defence. I am interning with Chambers and am working on the “Government II” case, which began in 2003 and involves four government ministers accused of genocide and conspiracy to commit genocide.

After years of studying genocide, the events in Rwanda and the ICTR, it has been absolutely fascinating to see it all firsthand. One of the biggest surprises for me has been to discover how little the genocide really factors in the day to day work of the tribunal. A previous intern had warned me that working at the ICTR was very “distant” from what had occurred in Rwanda- but I didn’t fully grasp what she was talking about until I arrived here. The daily work of the Tribunal revolves around the legal issues of the various trials- ranging from questions about the admission of evidence to orders concerning the filing of closing briefs. Most of the work is typical of any court- and in the process of addressing routine motions, it is easy to forget the reason for those legal questions. A long time ago, the genocide formed a basis for the trial- but today, the focus is much more on Rule 92bis or 89(C).

My internship has also provided me with a remarkable look at both the functioning of the ICTR and the international criminal system as a whole. I am sure I won’t surprise too many people when I say that the entire process is infuriatingly slow and inefficient. Some of this just can’t be avoided- the best example that comes to mind is the delay caused by the translation issues. Court generally goes something like this: Prosecutor asks a question in English - pause - which is then translated to French and Kinyarwanda - pause – then the witness responds in Kinyarwanda – pause – and his response is then translated into English and French. Most of the other delays are not so easy to explain away. A few years ago, it was thought that the trials could be expedited by combining defendants charged in similar situations/with the same crime (like my case- “Gov’t II”)- unfortunately, the plan has backfired and the trials have now become much more complicated and slow. The Tribunal also works on a system of “sessions”- rather than beginning the case and continuing it until it is complete, the ICTR only holds court during designated sessions and will then take rather lengthy breaks. These type delays have led to cases like mine- which started in 2003 and is still going… (In fact, I think the ICTR’s “Butare” case just set the record for world’s longest ever trial)

The inefficiency, delays and high cost of the Tribunal (More than $1 billion spent on the ICTR thus far) has made many people pretty jaded to the entire process. From what we hear, the Rwandans are particularly bitter about the Tribunal- and understandably so. In fourteen or so years, the Tribunal has produced 30 judgments. Last I checked, more than 80,000 people are still awaiting trial in Rwanda. The defendants at the ICTR are housed in a UN detention facility outside of Arusha with air conditioning, internet, satellite TV- while many in Rwanda are still struggling with basic issues like food, water and healthcare. (One of the most recent dramas? Conjugal visits for the accused at the UN detention facility: http://dailynews.habarileo.co.tz/magazine/index.php?id=5738) I am hoping to go to Rwanda in the next few weeks on the UN plane and will report more on local opinion once I have spoken to those on the ground.

Enough for the moment- I’ll stop boring everyone and save my stories of Arushan life for another time.

Hope everyone is having a great summer!

Millie

A local Maasai farmer- who definitely seemed to think that

I would have a lot more fun in Arusha if I bought his goat. He might've been right...