Beyond the catch phrases: why the memorialisation of mass atrocities matters

I detest the phrase 'Never again'. I hate how it is wheeled out whenever genocide or mass atrocities are discussed, the implication being that such events will not be allowed to happen again. I don't need to begin listing instances where such a notion has been proved tragically false.

Holocaust Memorial, Berlin

Aside from the use of silly catch phrases however, I believe the memorialisation of mass atrocities is extremely important. It is not just about remembrance but also about preventing future atrocities. Societies which have gone through mass atrocities are deeply wounded. With such large scale violence committed, with so many perpetrators, it is impossible to hold all the guilty to account. Inevitably, some justice will be found through truth commissions or international tribunals, but with many perpetrators walking freely amongst victims, memorials serve as an important reminder that the atrocities, nor the dead, have not been forgotten.

I worked on this issue a lot last year, working on the African Union Human Rights Memorial which will (initially) memorialise the Ethiopian Red Terror, the genocide in Rwanda and Apartheid in South Africa. The irony of working on such a memorialisation project with the African Union is not lost on me, given the protection it affords to certain heads of state who are certainly guilty of committing atrocities. It is however a worthy project.

I'm reading this fantastic book at the moment about the legacy of the Troubles in Northern Ireland, which claimed the lives of 3,500 people. It may seem like a small number but Northern Ireland is a small place; according to McKay, if conflict on a comparable scale occurred in the UK, the dead would number 150,000.

Memorialising the Troubles in print form

With the much celebrated peace process, Northern Ireland has made incredible process since the late 90s (despite recent flare ups of violence). But it comes at a price. People who had bombed, tortured and killed, on both sides, were set free. In the interests of peace, 'moving on' was now what was needed. Speaking of those who had been killed or disappeared did not fit into this new narrative.

As Primo Levi described, there is much pain in 'the unlistened -to story'.

There is great difficulty in balancing a society's grief with it's need to move on and heal. How do we combine recovery with remembrance?

Sites of conscience are considered to be more than 'just' memorials. Without getting into technical differences, sites of conscience are memorials which seek to tap the power and potential of memorialization for democracy by serving as forums for citizen engagement in human rights and social welfare (www.sitesofconscience.org). They are memorials which engage new generations. Memorials should not be static or undermine their own goals. They should be inclusive, participatory if at all possible and should stimulate and encourage debate.

One criticism I often dealt with when speaking about the importance of memorialisation was that it wasn't an important issue; that people needed 'real' help after conflict or atrocities. This is not a hierarchy. Many needs are more immediate than others, the obvious ones been food, shelter, etc. But post-conflict societies will not fully recover without properly addressing their pasts and if they fail to do so, the danger of conflict re-emerging is great. We can see this in cases such as Northern Ireland or indeed Rwanda, which has not adequately dealt with many of the issues arising from the 1994 genocide.

Names of the dead line the walls at the Kigali Genocide Memorial

Skulls on display at the Kigali Genocide Memorial.

If done incorrectly, memorialisation can be extremely damaging to societies, causing further divisions and exacerbating tensions. It is an extremely delicate process but also a necessary one.

Language & Politics in Rwanda (and some sightseeing)

In August I spent ten days in Rwanda, ostensibly for work but I managed to squeeze in a couple of days of extracurriculars! Kigali surprised me- compared to Kampala, where I spent a few months last year, it's much cleaner, orderly and feels much safer. It's pretty light on tourist attractions and night life however. Apart from the excellent Genocide Memorial Centre and some good crafts markets, there's not much to see. There are a few decent restaurants and bars, but literally just a few! Still, it's a nice chilled city to spend a few days in. 



I sent one hideously uncomfortable night in Butare in the south, where I failed to find a decent dinner and had to barricade my room door at night (not the safest of towns) before heading east to Kibuye, on the shores of Lake Kivu.



Kibuye is beautiful. A flooded mountain valley, the lake is full of islands- soaring mountain tops which are often shrouded with mist. It's an amazing landscape. We trekked around the lake much of the first day and hired a boat on the second day.










When I didn't have my tourist hat on however, I was doing research on genocide memorialisation for the African Union Human Rights Memorial. We saw some genuinely impressive attempts at societal reconciliation but it was glaringly apparent that Rwanda is heading for trouble. Recovering from genocide is an inexplicably difficult process for any society and it's impossible to say what is the "right" way to do it. The path Rwanda has chosen is already proving problematic however. Everyone we spoke to refused to disclose their ethnicity, referring to themselves only as Rwandans. This isn't as impressive as it sounds however as it was almost always disingenuous. Startling economic growth might have temporarily made Rwanda the darling of Western donors (although that era has now expired) but it hasn't magically caused deep rooted tensions to dissipate. The political language used when memorialising the genocide is particularly worrying; the genocide itself is almost always referred to as the 'Tutsi genocide'. This exclusive language is indicative of a wider political mindset.

This isn't mere nitpicking. Introduced in 2010, Rwanda's Anti-Genocide law claims to stop genocide denial. Hard to argue with that, right? Except it has been used to target opposition politicians who have called for the thousands of Hutus who were killed in the immediate aftermath of the 1994 genocide -whether through reprisal killings or disease- to be memorialised. Calling for appropriate acknowledgement of other victims is not denying the genocide happened. But that is how it is viewed n Kagame's Rwanda- you are for us or against us.

Kagame is due to step down in 2017. He could change the constitution in order to remain or step down in accordance with the law, in which case the country could be plunged into uncertainty. I'm not an expert on Rwandan affairs by any means but the impression I got from being in the country was far from optimistic. Having spoken to journalists and human rights experts infinitely more intimate with Rwanda since my return, I am even more pessimistic about where the country is heading, if the current situation remains.

But anyway, politics aside, it was a good trip.