...to the ones who really like to question whatever, no matter what...
A test for Africa
War-crimes prosecution of Sudan's leader a victory for rule of law
By David M. Crane
July 21, 2008
On June 4, 2003, as Liberian President Charles Taylor walked up the steps for the opening ceremony of the Accra Peace Accords in Ghana, I stood in front of the world's press and announced that I had unsealed an indictment charging him with 17 counts of war crimes and crimes against humanity. The international community reacted with praise - and condemnation. Politicians and diplomats voiced concern that my announcement had jeopardized the newly organized peace process and hopes for stability in West Africa. Some even said that the indictment put lives at risk.
Yet five years later, Liberia is stable, and a fairly elected government is in place with a real possibility that it is on the correct path to a sustainable peace under the leadership of the first woman ever elected a head of state in Africa. Mr. Taylor sits in The Hague on trial before a judicial chamber of the Special Court of Sierra Leone.
The recent actions by the International Criminal Court (ICC) related to the indictment of President Omar al-Bashir of Sudan for war crimes, genocide and crimes against humanity have prompted similar rhetoric by politicians and diplomats, who warn of threats to peace, lives and regional stability. Yet the promising outcome in Liberia should encourage the international community to act and focus its efforts to stop the atrocities in Darfur and begin an earnest effort to develop a plan for peace in that region under the Comprehensive Peace Agreement.
The indictments of Mr. Taylor five years ago and Mr. al-Bashir this week tell the people of Africa that their lives matter and that members of the "club" of African leaders are on notice that they will be held accountable for their actions. The indictment of Mr. al-Bashir also signals to the people of Africa that no one is above the law, that the law is fair, and that the rule of law is more powerful than the rule of the gun. This may sound trite to Western ears, but it is a critical message for Africa. In a region where most people have considered the law and governmental institutions a threat, they may begin to realize that through the rule of law, a true and sustainable peace and stable society can emerge from the ashes of Darfur.
Yet, the current leadership in Africa does not get it. Leaders' silence or mumbled condemnation of the ICC's actions reflects their attitude toward the law and their place in the family of nations. The atrocities, the pain and suffering that have been perpetrated upon the people of Africa past in recent decades can't be brushed aside by the statement, "African solutions to African problems." These are international concerns. They are humanity's problems, and they must be dealt with in an international forum, under the rule of law.
These indictments are the building blocks by which Africa can move forward into the 21st century. Accountability, good governance, and the rule of law will bring the stability needed for economic growth and long-term investment. In other words, it is good for business that we foster accountability in all aspects of African society.
The next African head of state who must be held accountable is President Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe. His arrogant rule has brought great shame on himself, his country, southern Africa, and those who either coddle him or look the other way, like President Thabo Mbeki of South Africa. International action must be focused, sustained, open, and fair in dealing with this petty tyrant. Yet the world must act soon. Mr. Mugabe must be dealt with by an appropriate legal mechanism - either a domestic or regional court or the ICC.
On Aug. 29, 2007, most of the world's current and former international prosecutors, from Nuremberg to the International Criminal Court, issued the First Chautauqua Declaration in Upstate New York. This historic declaration stated: "It is no longer about whether individuals agree or disagree with the pursuit of justice in political, moral, or practical terms, now it is the law ... the challenge for states and the international community is to fulfill the promise of the law they created; to enforce judicial decisions; to ensure the arrest and the surrender of sought individuals."
The international community has moved forward slowly and erratically in holding accountable those who commit atrocities around the world. Yet it has moved forward nonetheless. The legal card has been dealt by the prosecutor of the International Criminal Court, in response to the United Nations Security Council, regarding the grave international crimes perpetrated in Darfur. It is now time for the dangerous game being played out there to end. Only the political process can do that - by working out a way by which Mr. al-Bashir is removed from power and prosecuted.
They did it with Mr. Taylor; they can do it again with Mr. al-Bashir. In the words of the Chautauqua Declaration: It is the law.
David M. Crane is a professor at Syracuse University College of Law and former founding chief prosecutor of the international war crimes tribunal in West Africa called the Special Court for Sierra Leone, 2002-2005. His e-mail is dmcrane@law.syr.edu.
terça-feira, 10 de junho de 2008
Being Portuguese, I never got to question the fact that I was a Catholic.
I was raised in a small town in southern Portugal where people were mostly catholic. Some of the residents were Mormons, Jehovah witnesses, or belonged to new churches that had bloomed in recent years. In the 80’s and early 90’s, the latter were a very small minority.
In this scenario, being baptized or attending school church were not exactly choices, but pieces of a well established social routine in one’s life. It was what, in English, we would call a given. I attended a public primary school where we had a holy cross in the classroom. There, as to all the Portuguese children, the Xmas story was told through Little Jesus. In early December we usually built a traditional “presepio” representing the story of the Holy Night. In Easter we were told about Ressurrection.
I left my small town when I was 17 to start college in Lisbon. Although mostly catholic, for the first time, I found some people who told me they were atheists or agnostics. They didn’t believe in God and they were not baptized. (To be sure, I knew well about “their existence” but now …they were among my friends!). Then I met a Jewish girl. Soon after that, I went to Croatia, and I came across Orthodox and Muslims. After leaving Portugal in 2002, now, I often find myself being the only Catholic among my peers.
This testimony may sound almost misplaced or mistimed.
The 90’s were the stage of some of the bloodiest contemporary religious battles in Europe. I am the daughter of a country born from the fight against the Muslims (XII a.c.), and that wrote its History through the catholic evangelization of remote indigenous populations (XV, XVII). Shouldn’t I be more aware about this religious plurality? Shouldn’t I know better?
It turns out that I knew. I certainly knew about “them.” The way I perceive “them” was probably what changed. I used to have two boxes: one, where I put the Catholics and another, where I put, at first, only the Mormons and the Jehovah witnesses and progressively, all the others.
I don’t know exactly when it happened, but I now have a single big box.
Sometimes people ask me if I wouldn’t have liked to be given the option of choosing, or not, my own religion. And…to be honest….I really don’t see the point of the question. Religion is a belief. Nobody can force your own self to believe in something that you don’t want to. You may, of course, lie. And you may adopt all the practices of a certain religion, for your own or someone else’s convenience. But, truthfully, what you believe in, will always be your own choice, a choice that simply is not conditioned by any kind of “given” label. That is probably why religion is something personal.
I was raised in a small town in southern Portugal where people were mostly catholic. Some of the residents were Mormons, Jehovah witnesses, or belonged to new churches that had bloomed in recent years. In the 80’s and early 90’s, the latter were a very small minority.
In this scenario, being baptized or attending school church were not exactly choices, but pieces of a well established social routine in one’s life. It was what, in English, we would call a given. I attended a public primary school where we had a holy cross in the classroom. There, as to all the Portuguese children, the Xmas story was told through Little Jesus. In early December we usually built a traditional “presepio” representing the story of the Holy Night. In Easter we were told about Ressurrection.
I left my small town when I was 17 to start college in Lisbon. Although mostly catholic, for the first time, I found some people who told me they were atheists or agnostics. They didn’t believe in God and they were not baptized. (To be sure, I knew well about “their existence” but now …they were among my friends!). Then I met a Jewish girl. Soon after that, I went to Croatia, and I came across Orthodox and Muslims. After leaving Portugal in 2002, now, I often find myself being the only Catholic among my peers.
This testimony may sound almost misplaced or mistimed.
The 90’s were the stage of some of the bloodiest contemporary religious battles in Europe. I am the daughter of a country born from the fight against the Muslims (XII a.c.), and that wrote its History through the catholic evangelization of remote indigenous populations (XV, XVII). Shouldn’t I be more aware about this religious plurality? Shouldn’t I know better?
It turns out that I knew. I certainly knew about “them.” The way I perceive “them” was probably what changed. I used to have two boxes: one, where I put the Catholics and another, where I put, at first, only the Mormons and the Jehovah witnesses and progressively, all the others.
I don’t know exactly when it happened, but I now have a single big box.
Sometimes people ask me if I wouldn’t have liked to be given the option of choosing, or not, my own religion. And…to be honest….I really don’t see the point of the question. Religion is a belief. Nobody can force your own self to believe in something that you don’t want to. You may, of course, lie. And you may adopt all the practices of a certain religion, for your own or someone else’s convenience. But, truthfully, what you believe in, will always be your own choice, a choice that simply is not conditioned by any kind of “given” label. That is probably why religion is something personal.
terça-feira, 13 de maio de 2008
Ter o direito de dizer que nao a companhia de alguem, recusar um convite, dizer simplesmente nao, preferir apenas preservar o direito de escolher...apenas essa enorme liberdade ...
Descubro tarde que e possivel fazer isto sem sentir culpa, nenhuma culpa. (talvez uma culpa pequenina por nao ter culpa? ...nao...)Nenhuma culpa.
Uma certa estranheza, magoa, talvez...pela estranheza, magoa dos outros.
Descubro tarde que e possivel fazer isto sem sentir culpa, nenhuma culpa. (talvez uma culpa pequenina por nao ter culpa? ...nao...)Nenhuma culpa.
Uma certa estranheza, magoa, talvez...pela estranheza, magoa dos outros.
terça-feira, 29 de abril de 2008
terça-feira, 8 de abril de 2008
Hoje fui a Sao Francisco, a uma breve conversa com o Reverendo Desmond Tutu promovida pelo World Affairs Council.
Acho que tenho tido muita sorte e a vida tem-me permitido ouvir ou estar na presenca de pessoas que considero verdadeiramente extraordinarias.
Desmond Tutu e uma dessas pessoas...excepcionalmente especiais (tao especial que nem sei se e possivel usar o plural...).
Apesar de uma idade avancada, Desmond Tutu, transmite uma energia que nao sei descrever. Talvez uma energia que so se explica pelo seu percurso.
Ri como uma crianca. Brinca com as pessoas a sua volta. Quando lhe perguntam por feridas abertas no seu continente, os seus olhos entristecem com a espontaneidade e a dor que so os olhos de um menino podem transmitir... Remata, porem, todas as suas frases com uma voz de inesperada esperanca, fe...talvez magia.
Assim...a vida e mesmo um milagre extraordinario.
Acho que tenho tido muita sorte e a vida tem-me permitido ouvir ou estar na presenca de pessoas que considero verdadeiramente extraordinarias.
Desmond Tutu e uma dessas pessoas...excepcionalmente especiais (tao especial que nem sei se e possivel usar o plural...).
Apesar de uma idade avancada, Desmond Tutu, transmite uma energia que nao sei descrever. Talvez uma energia que so se explica pelo seu percurso.
Ri como uma crianca. Brinca com as pessoas a sua volta. Quando lhe perguntam por feridas abertas no seu continente, os seus olhos entristecem com a espontaneidade e a dor que so os olhos de um menino podem transmitir... Remata, porem, todas as suas frases com uma voz de inesperada esperanca, fe...talvez magia.
Assim...a vida e mesmo um milagre extraordinario.
sexta-feira, 14 de março de 2008
Comecou o Spring Break.
As aulas terminaram na quarta feira. Sai da aula as seis e fui para casa. Pela primeira vez,
em semanas, tive uma sensacao de ....paz?... vazio...? E, de repente, queria apenas ligar a alguem para ir tomar cafe, ver montras...mas nao havia ninguem. E o vazio...transformou-se numa enorme solidao. As seis e meia, sai de casa e fui (nao sei se a palavra e fui ou “fugi”) ao supermercado...
Absolutamente por acaso encontrei uma amiga de quem gosto muito. Nao so por ser minha amiga mas porque e uma pessoa extraordinariamente positiva, divertida, querida, generosa....Nao a via ha quase seis meses e, aproveitando o muito feliz improviso ( ou qui ca, reflectido presente) do destino, convidamos imediatamente outra amiga e organizamos um inesperado, muito divertido e muito merecido serao.
A vida deve ser mesmo um milagre extraordinario.
As aulas terminaram na quarta feira. Sai da aula as seis e fui para casa. Pela primeira vez,
em semanas, tive uma sensacao de ....paz?... vazio...? E, de repente, queria apenas ligar a alguem para ir tomar cafe, ver montras...mas nao havia ninguem. E o vazio...transformou-se numa enorme solidao. As seis e meia, sai de casa e fui (nao sei se a palavra e fui ou “fugi”) ao supermercado...
Absolutamente por acaso encontrei uma amiga de quem gosto muito. Nao so por ser minha amiga mas porque e uma pessoa extraordinariamente positiva, divertida, querida, generosa....Nao a via ha quase seis meses e, aproveitando o muito feliz improviso ( ou qui ca, reflectido presente) do destino, convidamos imediatamente outra amiga e organizamos um inesperado, muito divertido e muito merecido serao.
A vida deve ser mesmo um milagre extraordinario.
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