photo cc: mick y

When whole systems were erected for the sole purpose of repressing and silencing you, how do you recover your voice?

On far too many continents, in far too many remote villages, tumultuous townships and forgotten urban alleyways, whole generations have witnessed their pregnant daughters being raped as evening entertainment for armed men, have survived the terror of disappearances in the dead of the night, and have seen the charred bodies of their sons in bombed car carcasses.

Where can these communities turn for a silver lining of justice, a possibility to heal and recover, a sense that the future may be livable?

When the level of atrocities finally recedes, what great big tide can come to cleanse with salty waters the bruised bodies and tortured souls left as wrecks on the shores of history?

Truth be told. Reconciliation is hard. But the only thing harder than that, apparently, is a lifetime of bitterness and hatred, being eaten away with fantasies of revenge, and the unspeakable grief that secret crimes beget.

Still, how do they do it? Sure, you say, it may be possible to tell. Okay, you say, one can perhaps mourn publicly, with lots of support. But forgiveness?

You are often devastated by what you've got to hear of the things that we were capable of doing -- all of us. All of us have an incredible capacity, in fact, for evil because the people who were the perpetrators of these atrocities don't have horns, they don't have tails. They are like you and me. They are men, mainly, who kiss their wives, ordinary human beings.

And, you said, what an extraordinary depth of depravity!

Yes, yes, yes. That is so.

But the extraordinary thing is the paradox that in the process of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, the end result for me has been something that I was not expecting -- that I would be exhilarated so much by the example, the evidence of our remarkable capacity for good.

— Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Nov. 1999.

Truth and Reconciliation testimonies impart a special kind of power to the proceedings says Sofia Macher, in her tactical notebook Public Audiences: A space to legitimize the testimonial and dignify the victims of the internal conflict in Peru. In that way, Truth and Reconciliation Commissions work in ways similar to mock tribunals. "The stories created a very special atmosphere that involved everyone deeply", she says. "In the first Public Audience conducted in Ayacucho, the tears of those who were present – including camerapersons already hardened due to their profession – exceeded the number of ready handkerchiefs; we had not provided enough for the members of the public that attended."

As someone who sat on the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Peru, Sofia Macher explains that one impact of the process is that it legitimizes and empowers victims, who are then able to recognize each other publicly. "One possible result of this mutual recognition is the development of notions of solidarity and the wish to get involved in organized efforts".

The results can be astounding. Numbering a mere 10 before the Truth and Justice Commission, the number of victims' organizations in Peru jumped to 190 after the proceedings.

The media have been known to overhype the amount of forgiveness actually happening over the course of testimonies during Truth and Reconciliation commissions. But, as Glenda Wildschut and Paul Haupt tell us in I'll Walk Beside You: Providing emotional support for testifiers at the South African Truth & Reconciliation Commission, while there was "no expectation that people would kiss and make friends", some real work of reconciliation happened, albeit slowly, usually behind the scenes, and outside of commission hearings.

By lunchtime on the first day, both the men who had been through mediation the previous day had given testimony. The two men had given differing accounts from different perspectives of the murder of “a brother” and “a spy” who had worked as a policeman in the community. Honouring their agreement, they walked across an open field, accompanied by their briefers, to the place where the killing occurred. A small crowd of community members followed. When they reached the site, they silently shook hands and embraced each other, tears filling their eyes. Onlookers, entangled in their own history and moved by what they were witnessing, broke the silence by applauding the men for their gesture of forgiveness.

To reach a peaceable and just future, the truth needs to be heard, and human dignity needs to be restored. The challenge is enormous. But look at children. The human spirit is just as resilient.

In South Africa, "ubuntu" means the belief that one's own humanity is tied to other everyone else's. To degrade somebody else is therefore to dehumanize oneself. The good news is the logic works in reverse. When understanding replaces vengeance, and restorative justice replaces retaliation and retribution, the human spirit is allowed to soar and be restored.

Truth and Reconciliation Commissions have been pioneering action on the principle of ubuntu. As a tactic, Truth and Reconciliation Commissions have allowed us to look at the past with tears of anger and pain, so that in time, our swollen eyes can turn to a future of redemption and hope, a new era, a day at last where ubuntu will never be allowed to be forgotten in the heat of conflict.

This week (ending April 1st, 2008) we examine some of the experiments in Truth and Reconciliation proceedings within deeply traumatized societies, bringing together some amazing resource people on national processes from around the world.

Please join us and ask your questions.

Philippe Duhamel, interTactica.org