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Last Saturday, CNN broadcast a special feature, "Locked Up and Forgotten," looking at the situation of people with mental disabilities in Kenya. Previews for the show spoke of “Kenya’s terrible secret” and showed disturbing images of people in dire living conditions.
While it’s great that finally the international media is paying some attention to people with mental disabilities, it is a shame that coverage is almost always sensationalistic and further dehumanizes people who are already relegated to the fringes of society.
The stigmatization of people with mental disabilities runs very deep, and it is very difficult for them to shed it. Sensationalist media coverage does everybody a disservice because it reinforces the message that disabled people are hopeless, pathetic burdens to society and that if only they received more charitable assistance, perhaps society could take a breath and forget about them—again—at least until the next scandalous story breaks.
A few years ago in Croatia, a number of people with intellectual disabilities living in an institution died of food poisoning. The media published scandalous stories about the deaths. Though the deaths were never investigated, and no criminal charges were ever brought, the government’s knee jerk reaction to making the scandal disappear was to pour money into renovating the institution’s kitchen. This move set back the progress that had been made to reform the social welfare system and move people out of institutions. Instead of investing in the real solution—community-based housing and social support services—the government chose to continue segregating people with intellectual disabilities in a large institution, but this time with a fancy kitchen and a new paint job.
Similarly, the CNN program devoted significant coverage to Mathari Hospital, Kenya’s only psychiatric facility. CNN filmed people drugged into oblivion, shuffling about the place with nothing to do and no way out. One could not help but notice the absolutely appalling physical conditions and the overwhelming, oppressive atmosphere of hopelessness. An interview with the Minister of Medical Services revealed that “there is no money” to improve the hospital. The message was clear: let’s pour as much cash as possible into renovating and equipping Mathari so that it isn’t so hideously scary looking and sweep the real solution under the carpet.
Investing in Mathari (except in things that are urgently required to prevent injury or loss of life) is the worst possible thing that could happen for people with mental disabilities in Kenya. There is a great advantage in developing community-based services in Kenya: there are no institutions other than Mathari, so there is no system to dismantle. Investment in bricks and mortar to perpetuate the segregation of people in Mathari would be an enormous mistake and a very poor investment. Pouring money into Mathari can, of course, make it more comfortable. But it can never make in into a place of freedom and participation.
Only a fraction of the people in Kenya in need of support services end up in Mathari, thankfully. But most of the rest are isolated at home without the support they need. Given that there is vibrant civil society engagement in the mental health field in Kenya, it is disappointing that CNN’s program focused on touring with one NGO representative, going from village to village, peering into the dark rooms where disabled people spend their lives, then moving onto the next to do the same. Why just the misery and not the real solutions? Would the story be less scintillating if viewers know that there are real solutions? Would it force viewers to think about their own prejudices about people with disabilities? Would it be too boring to find out that there are real solutions being implemented right now in Kenya, and these solutions are actually cost-effective?
A number of organizations are providing support to families in Kenya so that people with mental disabilities can live with dignity in the communities to which they have always belonged—as equal citizens—not “locked up and forgotten.” There are NGOs supporting self advocacy and mental health service user groups to grow into strong advocacy movements, and one organization has obtained access to education and other services for people with autism. There are NGOs helping vulnerable communities to help themselves with poverty alleviation programs.
The real solutions are already happening in Kenya. But the work is far from over. There is an urgent need for real political will to invest in these efforts so that support and services are available to all people who need them. It’s that simple. But we cannot be distracted by the horror stories or be led to believe that renovating buildings and buying equipment are the solutions. The media can play a critical role in helping societies reform the way we see people with mental disabilities. I hope that they take up this challenge.
The following article also appeared on the Guardian Legal Network.
Another week, another twist at the Charles Taylor trial.
Just ten days ago, the proceedings hit an unexpected impasse when Taylor’s lead defense counsel, Courtenay Griffiths, learned that his final brief—which had been delivered late—would not be accepted by the court. Griffiths declared that, absent the final brief, he did not see any further role in the case for himself or for his client. Then, in front of a host of international media, he walked out of the courtroom.
For his actions, the judges chose to subject Griffiths to a disciplinary hearing and set the date for Friday, February 25.
But then came the newest surprise—this time from the bench. As the parties gathered for the Griffiths hearing, there was a new notable absence. One of the trial’s three judges, Justice Julia Sebutinde, had opted out.
Justice Sebutinde’s dissatisfaction with the move to hold a disciplinary hearing was no secret. She had dissented from the order requiring Griffiths to apologize or face sanction. When the hearing was convened, she went a step further, stating that as a matter of principle she could not take part in the proceedings.
In a letter read by the presiding judge of the Trial Chamber, Justice Teresa Doherty, Justice Sebutinde wrote that “in view of the recent developments in the Trial Chamber, and consistent with my earlier views and opinion on this matter, both in Chamber and on the bench wherein I dissented from the directive to lead counsel, I will on principle not attend Friday's hearing."
In addition to making clear her position on the Griffiths hearing, Justice Sebutinde’s message underscored that “recent developments in the Trial Chamber” have not been smooth. In the public gallery on Friday there was discussion about the body language displayed by the judges in recent weeks and the hints it offered about disagreement on many issues.
Nor was the drama finished for the day. With Justice Sebutinde absent, eyes turned to the alternate judge, Justice El Hadjj Malick Sow. But when defense lawyers suggested that Justice Sow be allowed to participate in the proceedings, the Senegalese judge did not wait for the presiding judge to comment before bursting out.
“Let me make this very clear,” Justice Sow said.
This bench is regularly composed with three judges sitting, as it shows. Two judges cannot sign decisions. When the bench is sitting, it's sitting with three judges, not two judges…I'm not here for decoration. I am a judge…I don't know how people can think that two judges - I don't know where in this world you will see two judges sitting. It's not possible. This bench is regularly composed with three judges…No matter how parties will look at it, it shows and it's apparent that this bench is composed with three judges. We are three judges sitting.
The words of a man who believes that he has been sidelined by his colleagues.
The guidelines on the alternate judge’s role are spelled out in Rule 16 of the Rules of Procedure and Evidence of the Court. The rule reads, “If a Judge is, for any reason, unable to sit in a proceeding, trial or appeal which has not yet been heard but has been scheduled, the President may designate an alternate Judge.”
Rule 16 also states, “The alternate Judge may perform such other functions within the Trial Chamber or Appeals Chamber as the presiding Judge in consultation with the other judges of the Chamber may deem necessary.”
Justice Doherty, as she adjourned the proceedings, invoked the rule but found it did not apply. “The Articles governing the composition of this Court and the Trial Chamber mandate that it is to be composed of three judges,” she said. “This is not a situation where Rule 16 applies. Accordingly, in our view, this Trial Chamber is not properly constituted and we consider we have no alternative but to adjourn this hearing today.”
The day’s developments leave several unanswered questions, most notably whether Justice Sow should have been allowed to take part in the hearings since Justice Sebutinde was “unable to sit in a proceeding.” Or, instead, if his participation falls within the ambit of when “the Presiding Judge in consultation with the other judges…may deem necessary.”
These are all issues for the judges themselves to determine. What is important to note at this stage is that it is, in fact, very common for judges in all tribunals to have disagreements. And disagreements do not necessarily suggest any malfunction in the handling of the particular case. But judges should also be mindful that the eyes of the world are on them and that they carry the enormous responsibility of upholding the dignity and integrity of the judicial process. So, it is essential to make sure that any disagreements that arise not overshadow the substance of the case itself.
In this case, the overriding importance of guiding the trial to a conclusion could not be more clear. Taylor, the former president of Liberia, is on trial for allegedly supporting rebel forces in neighboring Sierra Leone during the country’s 11 year civil war. The trial is by now three years old and, before the recent complications, was set to enter its final stages. The Open Society Justice Initiative continues to track developments in the case on its monitoring site.
Prosecutors have brought evidence about how rebel forces in Sierra Leone marauded across the country, hacking off limbs, killing civilians and committing heinous crimes, including sexual violence. They have argued that these crimes would not have been possible without Taylor’s support.
The defense team has argued that Taylor’s role has been misunderstood—that he was a peacemaker, whose only involvement in Sierra Leone was in an effort to bring peace. They argue that he is on trial because Western countries wanted to see him out of Liberia.
Both sides have labored to bring the case to this advanced stage, with the aim of bringing this trial to a conclusion—to a final verdict on whether Taylor is guilty or innocent of the charges against him.
In the interests of the victims of the conflict in Sierra Leone, of the brave men and women who traveled to The Hague to testify for both prosecution and defense, of Taylor’s fair trial rights as an accused, and of the contribution that the Special Court should make toward preventing impunity and ensuring accountability for the most serious crimes, it is crucial to bring the trial to a satisfactory end.
Most of us know what it’s like to look for a job when you don’t have one. But imagine doing that after being physically disconnected from your community, perhaps for years, with little education or work experience, and a criminal conviction that you now have to explain to an employer. All this and more (managing housing issues, drug treatment needs and family relationships are three common examples) confront formerly incarcerated people when they come home and need a job.
Last month, the Judge Mathis Show featured an episode on the role played by employment in the lives of people with criminal convictions. The judge, who is himself formerly incarcerated, understands first-hand what it’s like to bear the burden of a criminal past and how important it is to leave that past behind.
That’s why he invited the Center for Employment Opportunities (CEO; an Open Society grantee) and the National HIRE Network on his show. Roberta Meyers-Peeples from HIRE spoke about employment reentry strategies to a roomful of CEO clients who had come home from prison.
Securing a job after prison is crucial not just for the job seekers, but for their families and communities. It also touches on some of the most pressing economic and public policy issues facing us as a country. A successful employment reentry strategy can improve public safety, help governments reduce spending on costly prisons and jails during tough economic times, reduce poverty and joblessness for some of our most disadvantaged citizens and build the economic prosperity of communities. Employment reentry can also promote family stability and a healthier future for millions of children in the United States who have parents in the criminal justice system.
Projects like the one featured on the Judge Mathis Show are designed to help break down barriers to employment for formerly incarcerated people by advocating for policy change and offering “how-to” workshops. With the same goal in mind, for over 30 years, CEO has offered immediate, effective, and comprehensive employment services exclusively to men and women with criminal records.
We applaud Judge Mathis for his commitment to this issue and for bringing it national attention.
CEO is proud to be a founding member of the National HIRE Network and of its continued partnership with them to support the employment needs of formerly incarcerated people.
Abdulhaleem El-Busaidy is only one of millions of Kenyans who are discriminated against in access to Kenyan nationality—despite having a clear right to it under Kenyan law.
The main problem is discrimination in the issuance of national ID cards, the main proof of nationality for Kenyans. In 2010, El-Busaidy was refused an ID card because he failed to produce his grandfather’s birth certificate. He was told that because of his ethnic background, this was required by a secret government circular that reads: “For Asians and Arabs—parents’ and grandparents’ birth certificates are required proof of citizenship.” El-Busaidy, the son of a former Commissioner for the Kenyan National Commission on Human Rights, decided to challenge the constitutionality of this overtly discriminatory policy. He took his case to court in Mombasa.
The High Court in Mombasa responded. In January 2011, it first ordered a temporary suspension of the circular. And then, on February 18, the court made an important decision against discrimination in access to nationality: Judge Ojwang confirmed the suspension of the circular on the basis that ethnic and religious discrimination in access to national ID cards—and thus nationality—is unconstitutional under the new Constitution of Kenya. The case will now be heard on merits.
The government’s representative in the High Court case swore that the circular “has not been applied by any registration officer” and that “there is no discrimination whatsoever of any nature in issuance of identity cards.” But Kenyans who do not belong to so-called “indigenous tribes” know better: While the High Court case only concerns this particular circular, this form of discrimination is widespread across all of Kenya.
The origins of these policies are often murky. In October 2010, the Open Society Justice Initiative conducted interviews with Kenyan government officials involved in the issuance of ID cards. Many expressed unapologetic and discriminatory attitudes towards ethnic minorities. In Mombasa, one of the registrars had this to say:
You know, cases of indigenous Kenyans, like Mijikenda or Giriama, there is no way you will subject him or her to vetting… When you talk of Asians or Arabs, they are not indigenous Kenyans and that is why we ask them for extra birth certificates, like for their parents and grandparents.
“Non-indigenous people” like Kenyans of Somali, Arab, Nubian, Asian, Duruma, Digo, and a range of other ethnic backgrounds are systematically vetted before they acquire recognition of nationality simply because of their race. Vetting is a process by which certain individuals are brought before a committee charged with determining whether the person is Kenyan or not. A vetting committee member in Nairobi explained the process to the Justice Initiative:
There are people whom we feel we have to vet [for ID cards]…it’s sort of a policy of the Ministry of Immigration, whereby we have to verify that these people are Kenyan before we issue them with identity cards.
Similarly, the senior executive registrar in Nyanza Province said:
Vetting is applicable to anyone who is suspected of being an outsider…when you register an Arab who claims to be a Kenyan by birth, they must show the birth certificates of their fathers and grandfathers.
The vetting committees are known to require all sorts of documentation from individuals—including some that have no bearing on their status as nationals. Often, religious discrimination appears to be at the core of this problem. In another interview with the Justice Initiative, one of the Vetting Committee Members in Mumias Province stated:
When we vet Muslims and non-Muslims, non-Muslims get their documents like identity cards processed very fast but the Muslim applications have lots of questions and requirements and they would ask for your mother’s birth certificate…and they would even ask for your great grandparents’ identification.
The Justice Initiative’s interest in this issue comes from a long-standing engagement with one of the affected communities—the Kenyan Nubians. Many Nubians recall experiences very similar to El-Busaidy’s. In this short video Hussein Adam Umar describes the process he had to go through to obtain his national ID card.
In connection with the interviews with government officials, the Justice Initiative recently conducted a large study among Nubians in Kenya, which included a survey of almost 20,000 persons, and six focus groups in all the key places where Nubians live. The findings were astonishing.
To begin with, as many as 13 percent of Nubian adults in Kenya are currently stateless. Among minors, 37 percent have no documentation at all, and only 2 percent hold firm proof of Kenyan nationality in the form of a passport (national ID cards can only be obtained at majority). One issue that is quite peculiar, however, is that while we know that Nubians are required to undergo vetting in order to establish that they are nationals of Kenya, only 44 percent of those who have ID cards went through a vetting process to obtain them. This begs the question: How did the others acquire theirs?
While part of the answer is that many got their ID cards before vetting was introduced in the 1990s, it turns out that due to the often insurmountable obstacles to obtaining an ID card, a large number have got their IDs by claiming that they belong to another ethnic group and/or lying about their name. The importance of one’s name was confirmed by the senior executive registrar in Nyanza Province:
The Nubians are vetted even for a passport […] because of their names. They don’t have names of African origin because a name like Yusuf Ali you can get in America, but you cannot get Joseph Ochieng there. If you get [Yusuf Ali in Kenya], you will know where he has come from. So their names make them to be vetted.
Solution: Lie about your name and—hocus pocus—you get your card without having to produce a single document? No. For practical purposes such cards may give access to some services, but in the eyes of the government the holders are not actually considered as nationals. In other words, the number of Nubians who are stateless (that is, not considered as nationals by any state) is likely to be much larger than 13 percent.
This does not mean that these people do not have a right—at least in theory—to Kenyan nationality. In fact, 99 percent of Nubians reported that they were born in Kenya, and 97 percent reported that their parents were also born in Kenya. This multigenerational link to the country suggests that they should have acquired nationality by now—either by virtue of their ancestors being present in the country at the time of independence or by being born stateless in Kenya. (Kenya is obliged under the African Charter on the Rights and Welfare of the Child to grant its nationality to all children born on its territory who would otherwise be stateless—an obligation it does not live up to.)
What are the consequences of all this for Nubians in Kenya? Deep-rooted, multigenerational discrimination has certainly led to poverty in the community, and many live in physical and psychological isolation from the rest of Kenyan society. Research by the Justice Initiative shows that the average income of a Nubian household is only $4 per day. Just over 50 percent of the community lives in Nairobi’s infamous Kibera slum, and across Kenya between 70 and 80 percent of Nubians are unemployed, depending on location.
What is the link to the ID card issue, you may wonder? Well, an ID card is a requirement for employment in the formal sector—in particular the public sector. Without employment opportunities the community will remain at the margins of Kenyan society. With tenuous or no legal status, property rights are also limited, which further complicates the ability of Nubians to escape the poverty trap.
It will of course take some time to correct the poverty issue, but regularizing the legal status of Nubians and others and removing discriminatory obstacles to nationality is something the government could easily accomplish with a small dose of political will. The government will shortly be given a unique opportunity to change policies in this area as the High Court case in Mombasa moves to the merits phase. The government should take this opportunity to acknowledge that, with a new constitution in place, Kenya has turned the page and left ethnocentric politics on the dust-heap of history.
It was after 8:00 p.m. on Saturday night this past weekend, when the 15 UN Security Council members convened to take decisive, swift, and strong action against the ongoing repression in Libya.
The council passed a resolution that, among other things, referred the situation to the International Criminal Court (ICC) in The Hague. It is important to emphasize that Resolution 1970 was passed unanimously by the council, meaning not only did the United States, China, and Russia support it, but other countries around the world, including in Africa and the Middle East, did as well.
This historic resolution “deplor[ed] the gross and systematic violations of human rights” committed in Libya since February 15 against the civilian population, which it considered may amount to crimes against humanity. It invited the ICC prosecutor to address the council within two months and urged all states, even those not party to the Rome Statute, to cooperate fully with the court and the prosecutor.
The council recognized that the events in Libya constitute a threat to international peace and security. In addition to the ICC referral, it imposed an arms embargo on the country and, significantly, a travel ban and an assets freeze for certain individuals. In two separate annexes, sixteen people were named in the travel ban, and six had their assets frozen. President Muammar Qaddafi, and several of his children, were amongst these.
The Security Council’s actions against the president of Libya further legitimize the charges brought by the ICC prosecutor against Omar Hassan al-Bashir, president of Sudan, in 2010. As recognized by the international community, when leaders violate international laws and commit heinous atrocities against innocent civilians, including their own citizens, they can be held accountable for these crimes. Bashir has been charged with genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity committed in Darfur.
Notably, UN Security Council Resolution 1593, which referred Sudan to the ICC, made no direct mention of Bashir. The new referral, Resolution 1970, explicitly cites Qaddafi in two of its annexes. The Security Council is clearly highlighting the head of state as a culpable figure, an unprecedented implication.
When—not if, but when—Muammar Qaddafi is investigated, indicted, arrested, and transferred to the ICC for trial for crimes against humanity committed against his own people, it will be an enormous victory for justice worldwide, as well as a signal. Other leaders worldwide will finally realize the ICC isn’t simply for their subordinates.
Fast on the heels of the European Commission communication on the critical importance of early childhood education and care (ECEC) on February 17, the Hungarian Presidency of the EU hosted a conference on improving equal access to quality early childhood education.
To its credit, the Hungarian government has accorded priority to both ECEC and Roma integration during its presidency. How these issues intertwine was made clear in the crudest fashion just a couple of days beforehand, when the Italian politician Tiziana Maiolo declared: "E piu facile educare un cane di un Rom" ("It’s easier to educate a dog than a Roma"). Maiolo resigned shortly thereafter.
In a continent where mainstream right-wing leaders are lining up to proclaim the death of multiculturalism, it's troubling that Maiolo’s anti-Roma hate-mongering might resonate louder in the public sphere than would the Commission’s observation that "although their needs are greater, participation rates of Roma children in ECEC are significantly lower than for the native population, and expanding these opportunities is a key policy challenge across the EU."
The Commission is of course correct in its assertion that ECEC can play a key role in overcoming disadvantages faced by Roma children. What’s worrying is the possibility that more EU citizens connect with the recent "communication" by neo-fascist Jobbik Party president Gabor Vona, when in another tirade against "Gypsy crime" in Hungary, he declared that the Roma birth rate should be lowered, and "Roma children of lazy parents" must be taken away from their families and sent to boarding schools.
The contrast between what is and what ought to be remains very stark. There is a burgeoning consensus that ECEC is vital for the most disadvantaged children, to break the vicious cycle of deprivation and the intergenerational transmission of poverty and exclusion. But much remains to be done to extend this consensus beyond the converted, to win arguments in the wider world of public policy, to counter prejudice in the public sphere, and to broaden the base of support to do the right thing, so that quality early childhood education and care becomes a cornerstone of our democracies.
Three years after the landmark European Court ruling against the systemic racial segregation of schoolchildren in the Czech Republic, that country, together with its neighbors, continues to send Roma children into "special education." One teacher in the Czech Republic explained:
I am not a racist …. These children are not stupid; they are developmentally behind other children, because when they are brought up, they are not talked to, they aren't told how to hold a pencil or told that a baby dog is called a puppy.
Research conducted by the Roma Education Fund points to a clear trend: children are simply misdiagnosed. Few Roma children are prepared for testing compared to their non-Roma peers; few are fluent in the language of instruction. If psychological testing defines these disadvantages as symptoms of mental disability, then the deficiency lies not with the child but with the system. There is a crying need for the system to embrace a comprehensive and holistic approach to early childhood education that facilitates transition into mainstream primary education.
All the research confirms that early childhood education and care is not an optional extra, but rather an essential component of the infrastructure for sustained economic development. If, as the experts tell us, in terms of a person’s cognitive development, "the race is already halfway run" before schooling, then we need to get Roma children to the starting blocks post-haste. We know inclusion makes economic sense, and that Europe cannot afford the youngest and fastest-growing demographic segment of its population to become a lost generation.
While there is merit in framing debates in terms of future economic returns, it is important to emphasize that when we speak of Roma children we are not just talking about future economic units of consumption and production, but rather the fate and dignity of millions of rights-bearing young individuals in all their diversity and uniqueness. We must refute those who would diagnose these children in terms of what they lack, those who would categorize them as problematic.
What is needed is supportive, child-centered learning environments for children to realize their potential and successfully adapt to mainstream schooling. We know from the work of the Open Society Foundations and the Roma Education Fund, from preschool to postgraduate programs we support, that this is a generation with huge creative potential, possessed of vast reservoirs of talent, and much to contribute to the future of Europe.
However, the material deprivation endured by so many Romani children impedes their potential to progress from the very outset of their lives. To ensure equal treatment and outcomes, there is a clear need for a series of compensatory interventions at the earliest possible stage in a child’s life. We need to think in broader terms than compulsory enrollment in preschool. Readiness for school must include health and emotional well-being, and cognitive and linguistic development, and fully take account of family and social environments.
For early childhood interventions to have the desired lifelong effects, what happens in school is of course crucial. Policy makers need to ensure that new or revised public education acts, drafted in times of austerity, do not exacerbate inequalities, compound socio-economic disadvantage, and widen the opportunity gap between ethnic minority and majority citizens.
Mainstream schools must transform into welcoming and supportive environments for all; environments where diversity is simply part of the human condition; environments that cultivate a shared sense of common belonging amongst our youngest citizens, and provide quality education so that no child gets left behind.
The following originally appeared on EurasiaNet, an operating program of the Open Society Foundations.
The world witnessed how Facebook flexed its muscles in Egypt. Armenia offers a case in point in how social networking platforms are exerting quieter, yet still significant influence in broadening the public discourse.
Over the past year, several videos documenting abuse in Armenia have made their way on to YouTube, the video-sharing website, generating a wave of outrage both inside Armenia and among members of the diaspora. In a few cases, the burst of pressure generated by social networking has forced authorities to take action.
In 2009, for example, a six-minute video showed two lions unleashed on a donkey in a cage, while a small crowd watched and cheered. Local newspapers wrote that the video was shot on the property of a leading member of Armenia’s National Assembly, who is known for having a private zoo. He denied any association with the video. Regardless, the video generated discussion in Armenia about animal rights—not a regular topic of interest in the country.
Another area where abuse has been documented by human rights groups, but which often remains unaddressed, is in the military. In September 2010, a video of two Armenian servicemen being physically abused by an army major was posted on YouTube. Several days—and thousands of hits—later, Armenia’s Ministry of Defense confirmed that an investigation was underway.
The education system in Armenia has had its own share of problems, including abusive behavior on the part of some teachers. In early January, a YouTube video showed a teacher verbally and physically abusing a student in a school in the capital Yerevan. A few days later, the website of Armenia’s Ministry of Education and Science announced that the teacher had been dismissed. According to other reports, he had quit voluntarily.
In October 2010, an even more disturbing video of a teacher physically abusing students was posted on YouTube. The teacher resigned shortly thereafter.
Reaction to these videos among Armenians has differed sharply. A knee-jerk reaction of many has been to question the veracity of the videos, find justifications for the acts depicted in them, or accuse unnamed individuals of doctoring them to undermine the image of Armenia.
When the video of the abuse of the two soldiers was released, the immediate reaction by several bloggers and commentators was that the individuals depicted in the video were not Armenian soldiers, and the video was probably shot in neighboring Azerbaijan, a country that Armenia is still technically at war with over Nagorno-Karabakh. Many immediately suspected that the video was a propaganda stunt aimed at damaging morale in the Armenian army. The statement by Armenia’s Defense Ministry laid such speculations to rest, but the criticism of “making a big deal of something that happens in every army” remained.
Similarly, when the videos depicting corporal punishment in schools surfaced, many in Armenia blamed the students for misbehaving and disrespecting decent and hardworking teachers.
On the other hand, there is a growing realization that sweeping problems under the rug in order to safeguard Armenia’s image is ultimately detrimental for the nation. There were those who pointed out that exactly because abuse happens in every army in the world, there should be no need to deny or cover-up abuse when it happens in the Armenian army. The Armenian president’s chief military advisor, for example, said: “I see nothing wrong in the spread of that video. Maybe that will help the army command do a better job.”
Every day, dozens of videos relating to Armenia are uploaded on YouTube. And while most videos have little more than entertainment value, a few expose important social issues. And they are not going unnoticed.
Witnessing the discussion ensuing from these YouTube videos, activists and the public at large are realizing the power of social networking websites. And as the number of people in Armenia having access to cell phones with video cameras and high speed Internet access continues to increase, the struggle against injustices is expanding to cyberspace like never before. The country, in general, can only benefit from the greater scrutiny of its people.
Sixty-three Egyptian organizations have decried the absence of women on Egypt’s Constitutional Committee, the body tasked with ensuring rights and proposing amendments to the country’s constitution. In a petition signed last week, the groups said that a committee without a single female legal expert—of which there are many in Egypt—“triggers fears and suspicions with regards to the future of Egypt” after the January 25 revolution.
This raises a key question about “the main aims of the revolution which were initially spelled out as equality, freedom, democracy, and participation of all citizens,” the groups said. Women “have the right to participate in building the new Egyptian state.”
The petition also questions the selection criteria of Constitutional Committee members and says that women participated equally in the revolution and that some of them have been jailed.
Read the petition in English on the website of the Egyptian Center for Women's Rights.
Much of Haiti’s capital, Port-au-Prince, is a dystopia of earthquake rubble, crumbling concrete houses, and tents of heavy plastic jammed into areas cut by dirt paths and streets littered with trash and potholed by torrents of rainwater. Private residences of highborn and low are protected by forbidding walls, many of them topped by spirals of razor wire to ward off invasions by burglars and kidnappers. The 2010 earthquake brought down the seat of Haiti’s government, the capital city’s hospital, and its cathedral as well as hotels and other commercial buildings and thousands of homes built upon mushy foundations using concrete mixed with too much sand and too few steel reinforcement bars.
This grim landscape is, however, dotted by an array of time- and weather-worn architectural gems, most of which survived the earthquake. These are gingerbread houses right out of Hansel and Gretel, houses of painted wood with tall, sharp gables, witch-hat spires, carved eves and cornices, and shaded porches for afternoons of rocking in chairs, napping in hammocks, and sipping rum punch.
Some of these houses are grand and imposing, others seem to hide behind trees like shy old women. Some are occupied, others are abandoned and seem to be haunted. Some are well-maintained, while others are fodder for termites and dry rot. One, the teetery Hotel Olofsson, became famous as a setting in Graham Greene’s novel The Comedians; another, which houses the headquarters of the international medical relief organization Médecins sans Frontièrs, was the setting for life-and-death struggles in the hours and days after the earthquake.
The disaster prompted FOKAL, the Open Society foundation in Haiti, to launch a project whose aim is to restore the gingerbread houses to their lost splendor and preserve them as a link with Haiti’s past. FOKAL’s role is to help the owners of these houses to organize themselves. FOKAL is also working to establish a fund for these owners to finance restoration of their homes and to help train craftsmen and architects qualified to restore these structures.
I was born in a small wood-frame house in the gingerbread style. It had a big yard in front and back where I would play as a child. The porch allowed us to spend our days out of doors, but out of the sun. The high ceilings allowed for good ventilation, and you can feel the difference once you move into a house of concrete. The decorations carved in the wood allow the imagination to run wild. These houses are well adapted to our geophysical and climate conditions. Except for those with masonry walls, the gingerbread houses were mostly flexible and withstood the shaking during the earthquake. These houses are also lifted above the ground to enable them to survive inundations. They stand as symbols of a lost period when the country was in better shape. They were built by accomplished architects and some were occupied by ambassadors, presidents, and business owners.
Preserving the gingerbread houses is crucial for Haiti, because so little remains of the country’s past. They provide a model we should study now as we build and rebuild for the future. It is a dream of Haitian architects to work on these structures. It is also a dream of Haitian kids to live in one, as I once did.
Each year, children and young adults in Port-au-Prince fantasize about the gingerbread houses. It is a local tradition for young people to make decorative lamps in the shape of a gingerbread house, complete with porches, decorated windows and eves, and other architectural elements. In this idealized world, the yellows, pinks, greens, and blues are as bright as nature can cast. The walls are clean and firm. The roofs show no rust. The yards, some surrounded by walls topped with razor wire, are without gravel, or rubble, or tents for refugees.
In FOKAL’s lamp-building contest marking the earthquake’s first anniversary, the winner was an evergreen-on-white model of a house with a tall, acutely angled roof, sharp lines, and a porch with a balustrade looking down on the front entrance. A child made it—a child who lost his mother in the earthquake.
The following article also appeared on the Guardian Legal Network and the Charles Taylor Trial blog.
For more than three years, the charismatic defense lawyer Courtenay Griffiths has stood in front of international judges, arguing that former Liberian president Charles Taylor is not responsible for the horrific rapes, murders, and mutilations committed during Sierra Leone’s 11 years civil conflict.
This week, Griffiths will walk back into the same courtroom, this time, though, not as a defense lawyer arguing on behalf of his high-profile client, but as a “defendant counsel.” Griffiths, himself, has become the subject of a disciplinary hearing before the Special Court for Sierra Leone.
Griffiths is facing the possibility of sanctions after walking out of court on February 8, when the court had convened to hear closing arguments from both prosecution and defense lawyers in the Taylor trial. Griffiths had protested the judges’ decision not to accept the defense final brief, which had been filed late—20 days after the January 14 deadline. The brief was late because Griffiths and his team were waiting for decisions from the judges on eight outstanding motions—decisions, Girffiths says, which could have impacted the shape of his closing arguments. Two of the three judges remained unconvinced.
At the closing arguments last week, Griffiths protested, telling the Court that he saw no role for himself and Taylor in the proceedings if their final brief was not accepted.
As Griffiths attempted to walk out of court, the presiding judge of the Trial Chamber, Justice Teresa Doherty ordered him to take his seat.
Ignoring the presiding judge’s order, Griffiths walked out of the courtroom. Griffiths also failed to appear in court the next day to make closing arguments for his client. In his absence, judges ordered Griffiths to appear in court on Friday, February 11, to apologize for walking out of court or risk being sanctioned.
Rule 46 of the court’s procedural rules states that “A Chamber may, after a warning, impose sanctions against or refuse audience to a counsel if, in its opinion, his conduct remains offensive or abusive, obstructs the proceedings, or is otherwise contrary to the interests of justice.”
Griffiths did appear in court on Friday as directed. But rather than apologize to the court, he requested a special disciplinary hearing where he would be represented by an experienced counsel. The judges accepted Griffith’s request.
When Griffiths appears as “defendant counsel” tomorrow he will be represented by an American lawyer, Peter Robinson. Like Griffiths, Robinson is also defending a big fish before an international court: Robinson is the defense counsel for former Bosnian president Radovan Karadzic at the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia.
Also like Griffiths, Robinson is no stranger to controversy. In June 2010, he was a subject of contempt proceedings before the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR). Robinson, who was defending an accused genocidaire in the 1994 Rwandan massacres, refused to examine a defense witness because of developments outside the courtroom: his co-defense counsel had been arrested in Rwanda on allegations of genocide denial. Robinson asked to withdraw from the case until his colleague was released. The judges at the ICTR denied his request, and, despite being ordered to continue the examination of his witness, Robinson refused. The judges brought contempt proceedings against him, but he was ultimately acquitted.
Disciplinary hearings before Special Court for Sierra Leone judges are not new, either. In December 2005, the Trial Chamber sentenced Yada Williams, a defense counsel at the Special Court to a public reprimand and a fine of Le. 1000000 ($250) after a disciplinary hearing found that he assaulted a female court staff.
Although the circumstances surrounding the disciplinary hearings for Robinson, Williams, and Griffiths are different, the outcomes could have similarities. Griffiths could put up a strong defense for his action, like Robinson did at the ICTY, and the judges could decide that there is no case against him. Alternatively, the judges could find a case of misconduct against him and ask him to apologize. An apology, like that made by Williams in 2005, could save him any further sanctions. A third option could be that Griffiths is found guilty of misconduct and have penalties leveled against him.
According to the court’s rules, a number of possible sanctions exist. Penalties can include a fine, a report to Griffith’s home bar association in the UK, a “refusal of audience” (or inability to present arguments in court), or he could be dismissed as the defense lawyer for his client.
A refusal of audience would not bar Griffiths from being Taylor’s lead counsel. While he would still be in a position to sign legal documents or file motions on Taylor’s behalf, he would not be entitled to actually present arguments in court. If this happens, then Taylor would have to rely on another counsel to make arguments to the judges (including his closing statement), at a sentencing hearing if Taylor is found guilty, or at any appeals hearings after the Trial Chamber’s final judgment. If, on the other hand, Griffiths is declared ineligible to represent Taylor, the former Liberian president would need to look for another lawyer to finish the case.
For any sanction imposed on Griffiths, he would be able to appeal it to the Appeals Chamber of the Special Court for Sierra Leone. Any such appeal might delay proceedings in the trial further, as a final determination by the Appeals Chamber might be needed to work out who will conclude Taylor’s defense.
Whatever the outcome of this hearing, it makes its own contribution to the many dramatic events that have unfolded in this war crimes trial. This hearing will see Griffiths, the charismatic lawyer who has fiercely defended the interest of his client, become a client himself.
Whoever thought that Griffiths would need a lawyer? Or become a client like Taylor? What a way to wear someone else’s shoes.