Missing the forest for the trees

My first few weeks at the ICTR, I got caught up in the frustrations of UN bureaucracy, in the petty challenges of this lumbering tribunal. Now, as my time here comes to close in a couple of weeks, I'm taking a step back. Instead of focusing on those trees, I'm finally catching the full view of the forest. My, what a forest... Full of passionate, intelligent, committed individuals from around the world, all toiling together. We want to believe that this work is making a difference, that this work has meaning outside of these four walls, that someone else cares and is paying attention. And the truth is that it does, it must matter somewhere, somehow, to someone, that here at the ICTR we convicted the first head of state for genocide, that rape and other sexual violence is now considered as a crime of genocide, that the media's incitement of ethnic hatred and violence is punishable, that all this history is now on record, and that we are challenging the culture of impunity.

Of course, there are many flaws, but the ICTR is nothing if not an experiment, the detainees our guinea pigs. The case I have been working on, known as Military 1, is one of the most high-profile cases. The four accused, Theoneste Bagosora, Gratien Kabiligi, Anatole Nsengiyumva, Aloys Ntabakuze, are the 'big bad' guys, four of the top Rwandan military leaders. They are currently standing trial for their roles as the central figures in planning, promoting, and executing genocide and other crimes against humanity. We are arguing that the 1994 genocide was partly a military coup, organized as a desperate attempt to cling to power at the end of the war with the RPF. The military stood to lose the most under the Arusha Peace Accords, and it seems their thinking went something like this, 'we must kill all Tutsi cockroaches and their politically moderate Hutu accomplices so there is no support for compromise with the RPF... and then we get to stay in power forever.' It all makes a bit more sense when viewed in the larger context of colonial and post-colonial history, Rwandan culture, and regional politics. (Too complicated to get into here, but I'm happy to recommend reading etc).

Anyway, our case has been going on for 5 years now, and it's finally coming to a close. This is our final session, but this last sprint feels slightly anti-climactic. As Kabiligi's defense team slaps together the final witnesses, the judges' assistants in Chambers are already busy writing the judgement. We are confidant that all these guys are going away forever, but then what...?

There is no glamour. There is no glory. There is no instant gratification. We're in it for the long-haul, the unrecognized long hours and weekends at work, and the chance to say 'I was here, I was a part of this.' Because no matter how boring the photocopying, no matter how unrewarding the translation work, no matter how stressful the witness preparation, the greater purpose looms. While it is easy to get lost in the details, to lose sight of this greater purpose, it can still be felt. Every time I swipe my UN badge, every time I see those 4 accused sitting at the back of the courtroom, every time I hear or read shocking and horrific witness testimony, I remember.
I remember Rwanda; the stories, the people, the faces, the children, the smell, the skulls...
And I remember that I am part of this huge undertaking, this noble, expensive, catastrophically important venture, that we can only hope is contributing to this notion we call 'international justice.'