July 10, 2010 post by Dragica
It is hard to believe that this beautiful adventure is coming to a close (this said with 4 weeks left still, 3 more in Nepal and the rest in India). It feels like that to me. I am not ready to go, even though my mom, for example, is in disbelief when I said my summer was flying by too quickly (she misses me). Today, I replied to a friend who asked “how is Nepal?” that it was a “beautiful chaos.” This is a good description for it. It is the place where the most beautiful colors of the world come from, among other things. Nepal has taught me so much in a very brief period of time, and it forever has a place in my heart. I keep thinking about the overall unpredictability of life, and when I tell my Nepali family, colleagues and friends that I will come back soon, I am not certain how my life’s path is going to wind its way back here. I feel that somehow it will. That is the thrill of fate that I am willing to accept.
The last two weeks at my internship were spent researching and in the field, conducting interviews with victims and victims’ leaders of the ten-year conflict (1996-2006), along with NGOs and others concerned with the topic of victims’ organizing and transitional justice. It will be challenging to synthesize, but it is amazing how quickly one can gather research for a good overview, and I hope to do my findings justice in the remaining weeks to be spent on finishing my report, and writing the next portion of my academic paper (excluding our retreat to gorgeous Pokhara and Chitwan starting this Sunday). I always say that the most valuable aspect of the International Field Program at GPIA is the opportunity to self-reflect and position oneself in a given “career” for a while to see what fits and what does not. I am discovering that everything I have done all along in my academic path has been leading to the work on human rights. It just so happens sometimes that what one is pursuing ends up having a name, but one needs to find themselves in a position to recognize that. This will be the key legacy of my Nepal 2010 IFP.
Many conversations, firsthand accounts, observations and intellectualizing later (in any one day of my summer work, I would change my mind about something after each encounter, as I was learning), I am still convinced that societies recovering from war cannot move forward on their path to reconciliation and peace until the past is confronted head on, and in the process, victims – the many who have suffered directly and indirectly – are completely included and made compensation for in the process. This is why in the last 10 months, I chose to focus on a particular policy to facilitate that, transitional justice, and the more I see it criticized, the more I think about it in the perspective of any other policies out there – we are just trying to understand our world, break down the phenomena, and come up with a solution. However imperfect, these are malleable plans that can be perfected under close study and follow-up, as long as the theories they stand upon are strong. I wish the least powerful to gain their rightful place in the process – at the center. On the surface, victims-based approach seems so utterly logical if the very problems one is seeking to address via given post-conflict policies concern the very recipient of the abuses during the war – the victims. However, nothing is quite like it seems. Not in Nepal.
The tragedy of the Nepali situation is that it is highly political, and everyone and everything is overly-politicized, so that the movements, such as the one I am studying (victims’ movement) become divisive, and thereby weakened in their divisiveness. So are the victims who tried to strengthen their voice through organizing for their own security and protection, power leverage and greater justice gains. The climate in which they operate is so complex. There are too many manipulations and forces that exert various pressures on them, and meanwhile, they are just trying to discover their lost family member, or asking their government for an acknowledgment of their suffering, an apology. How does one empower them while letting them know there truly is strength in numbers? That victim is a victim, no matter the victimizer; no matter the ideology; no matter the caste, class, or gender; no matter the severity of their suffering.
The biggest flaw of any public policy is that it cannot possibly, realistically encompass every single case in its unique form, as these incidents were so varied, no matter how context sensitive the policy is. The pain is so real and the incidents so different, each a solitary experience deep down, but some generalizations can still be made, as long as we are able to be inclusive and hear everyone’s voice. That part is realistic.
It is possible to create common platforms where these stories can be told. I’ve seen it done during my internship by the human rights community, and I have created my own space and the space for others to speak up. I am leaving here with a sense of greater concern for the top leadership in Nepal than their grassroots.
How can a person live peacefully in a country that either terrorized them, or allowed terror to occur, where the same faces are still in power, institutions of authority meant to protect the public good that abused their people are still in place? How can people who received this kind of treatment move on without being reassured that it will not happen again; that somebody takes responsibility for these acts; that somebody is sorry it all happened? How can a government possibly gain legitimacy in the eyes of its people if it refuses to merely engage in a dialogue when they are crying out for help, exasperated, broken, poor, humiliated, forgotten? I feel for the innocent people who are never asking for wars to be fought, but are always irresponsibly pulled into them by the power-hungry few, then re-victimized when it comes time for repair. I’ve seen it all. I never forget the 150,000 who never made it alive in Bosnia.
Nepal is in deep trouble with its leadership. It is a patronage-meets-corruption system of rule, and the government is accountable to no one. The politicians are running pretend-democracy and everyone sees through them, but how to fix this? I see no end to impunity, while I see no way it can go on either. In a democracy where no one seems to be included, how does one choose to vouch for a particular voice (as I am doing with victims)? Sometimes (really!) I wonder why we let idiots (excuse me) run our countries? It is a universal flaw. I wish for Nepal’s peace process to run somewhat like the traffic in Kathmandu – chaotic, in all directions, but flowing without any major clashes. However, even to this, the status quo will expire and eventually we’ll need a traffic light. Something that sets the rules, and can stand in stability, while the rest respect the rules (a stable government perhaps? the rule of law? no conflict).
No conflict.
Dragica
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