We launched the OpenCanada.org series The War is Just a Click Away today! It’s one of the fruits of a SSHRC Connection Grant that Taylor Owen and I received to promote dialogue on issues of global politics.
The series began today with a great longform journalism piece by Toronto Naheed Mustafa. We also worked with CBC’s The Current on a related piece that aired today, and which Naheed produced.
These and other articles will explore the risks and possible responses to these digital connections to war:
People who live far from war may remain connected to it continuously, intimately and sometimes dangerously, through their digital devices. For much of humanity, we can now say that war is just a click away.
These digital connections to conflict are double-edged. Activists can provide assistance and coordinate with people in the midst of conflict, but their communications may be intercepted and their colleagues captured, tortured or killed. Social media platforms like Facebook and Twitter can alert larger publics to human rights violations, but they have also become theatres of war where fighters are recruited, and where violence is stoked through misinformation and ethnic or religious hatred. Digital tools have been developed to help humanitarians identify and assist vulnerable people more quickly than ever before, but can also be used to transfer resources to the groups responsible for violence.
We’ve got more to do on the series, but I’m very appreciative of those who have helped out on the way. In addition to Naheed, I’ve had some great help from research assistants Andrés Delgado, Robert Gorwa and John Woodside. Chloë Ellingson and Kevin Tong contributed some great art. And I’m grateful to Eva and the OpenCanada team. I’m also grateful for support from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council, the Centre for International Governance Innovation, the Carnegie Council for Ethics in International Affairs, the Liu Institute for Global Issues, and the Munk School of Global Affairs.
OK, onward with the series!
* This originally article appeared on 19 Sept 2016 on The Washington Post‘s Monkey Cage
The United Nations will convene its first ever Summit on Refugees and Migrants in New York on Monday, to be followed Tuesday by President Obama’s Leaders’ Summit on the Global Refugee Crisis. The hope is that these meetings will foster concerted action to address the highest levels of forced displacement since World War II. But in the Middle East — the center of the current refugee crisis — such lofty international efforts seem far removed from realities on the ground.
The MENA (Middle East and North Africa) region is a key point of transit for refugees from Somalia, South Sudan, Eritrea, Afghanistan and Syria. Neighboring Turkey, Lebanon and Jordan have absorbed the vast majority of Syrian refugees.
How do Arab citizens view this crisis? And how do different actors leverage the refugee issue?
Quantitative and qualitative analysis of 1.6 million Arabic tweets (translated into English when quoted below) about Syrian refugees collected at New York University’s Social Media and Political Participation (SMaPP) Lab between February 2015 and July 2016 offer three preliminary insights:
It can be a challenge for scholars to engage in policy debates, even on topics they have spent years researching. Junior scholars are frequently told that engaging with policymakers is a distraction from tasks that can actually lead to an academic position… and so should be avoided. However, many of us still engage – because we believe it improves our research and our teaching, because it’s interesting, and because we care too much about the issues we research to dispassionately stand back and watch as they are ignored or addressed badly.
Even if one wants to get into the policy fray, it’s often unclear where and how to do so. As I learned in a 2012 project with the Pierre Elliott Trudeau Foundation (which resulted in this series on international justice for OpenCanada), Canadian civil servants often want to engage new expert voices on foreign policy issues. However, they rarely had the opportunity to reach out to researchers and inform them about the policy dilemmas they face. Government websites tend to show the announcements of policies developed a year earlier, by which point it’s far too late to intervene. Unless you are already on the contact sheet of policymakers, it’s hard to contribute.
For all these reasons, I was very pleased to see Global Affairs Canada partner with SSHRC to mount the International Policy Ideas Challenge 2016–a call for policy proposals from doctoral and postdoctoral researchers. And I’m delighted to have been selected as one of the competition winners.
My policy brief for GAC will tackle an issue I’ve been working on recently, on what I call the “digital extension of conflict.” It will map some of the new vulnerabilities created by our digital communications networks. Today a refugee in Canada may be thousands of kilometers from a war zone but, with her computer open in in front of her, she may be exposed to harassment, extortion and surveillance, or perhaps be named on an ISIS “kill list.” If she is an outspoken activist, she may face malware or denial of service attacks. My brief will suggest some ways that the Canadian government might intervene to address these vulnerabilities, and to empower people to promote accountability for rights violations or peacebuilding abroad.
See here for future updates. But as a preview, I will not be recommending that Canada create its own army of cyber trolls…
Whatever happens in Monday’s election, many Canadians will wake up disappointed on Tuesday. The local representative we voted for will have lost, or our preferred party will not form government. It’s therefore worth remembering why democracy is the best political system for those who are on the losing side of elections, and not just for the winners.
Three features make losing more palatable and less dangerous in democracies – the legitimacy of elections, checks and balances on executive power, and a democratic culture of inclusion. Unfortunately, the Conservative government has undermined all three.
An Unfair and Unequal Election
First, in functioning democracies, elections produce a government that is legitimate. We may be disappointed but we do not feel cheated, since each person had an equal opportunity to vote and each vote counted (more or less) equally.
However, with the misnamed Fair Elections Act, the Conservative government undermined fair and equal participation. The Act reduces Elections Canada’s programs to encourage voting, and takes away vouching or Voter Information Cards as sufficient proof of identification at polling stations. These changes are expected to make voting more difficult for thousands of people, with a greater impact on people less likely to vote Conservative, including student, indigenous and poor voters. The Act also reduces Elections Canada’s role in policing electoral laws.
Beginning Tuesday, we need to see how these changes affected the election. If people have faced unequal obstacles to voting, and if any party violated electoral laws as the Conservative party has in the past, we need to root out failings. Whether or not we pursue new voting systems, as the NDP and Liberals have proposed, we need to make sure that Canadian elections are increasingly equal, open and fair.
Undermining Checks and Balances
Second, elected governments face several institutional checks and balances, which help protect vulnerable groups and those on the losing side of elections.
Good news! Taylor Owen and I received a SSHRC Connection Grant to brainstorm and develop a new digital platform to promote dialogue on issues of global politics. Our plan is to create a platform that facilitates scholarly commentary on pressing issues, and that will partner with media outlets and major think tanks to engage larger publics. We’re pleased to be partnered with a bunch of great institutions on the project: the Carnegie Council for Ethics in International Affairs, the Centre for International Governance Innovation, the Canadian International Council, the Igarapé Institute, the Liu Institute for Global Issues and the Munk School of Global Affairs.
More details to follow. But thanks to SSHRC (and thus my fellow Canadians) for the support, and to Taylor for getting the ball rolling on this.
This post was first published on Justice in Conflict on May 28, 2015. My interview with Thierry Cruvellier, conducted May 6, 2015.
When the Khmer Rouge were driven from Phnom Penh by Vietnamese and Cambodian forces in early 1979, they left behind an institution that has come to illustrate the regime’s cruelty and paranoia. At the S-21 prison, now the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, the liberators found 14 recently-executed prisoners as well as rooms full of chains, shackles, a waterboarding apparatus, and other instruments of torture. They also found a vast archive, with thousands of photographs of terrified men and women, along with the confessions that were extracted from them. The documents showed that while the activities were barbaric, the institution operated with bureaucratic discipline. Scrawled across many of the documents were terse orders from the prison’s commandant, Kaing Guek Eav, known as Duch. On one interrogation record he wrote: “Beat [the prisoner] until he tells everything, beat him to get at the deep things.” Beside a list of names: “Kill every last one.”
In 2009, Duch became the first person tried at the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC). Every day of the trial, Thierry Cruvellier came to the courtroom on the outskirts of Phnom Penh and carefully watched Duch, along with the lawyers and judges arrayed around him, and the witnesses who took the stand. Cruvellier has established himself as the preeminent journalist of international criminal justice. He has reported on trials in Arusha, The Hague, Sarajevo and Freetown; edited the International Justice Tribune; and authored the excellent Court of Remorse: Inside the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda. He believed that the Duch trial would offer something new, the chance to examine at length the mind and motives of a senior perpetrator of atrocity crimes.
The result is The Master of Confessions: The Making of a Khmer Rouge Torturer (originally released in 2011 as Le maître des aveux). Among its many virtues, Cruvellier’s book is a master-class in how to evoke characters through description, and none are drawn more sharply that Duch himself. The book also shows what gets missed when researchers (like myself) study international criminal justice without attending trials in their entirety. We forget about the many storylines a trial can offer. These include the competing visions of the crimes – and of justice itself – advanced by lawyers, judges and defendants. They also include the dramatic arcs of individual testimonies, as witnesses respond to questions and to their roiling memories and emotions.
I recently spoke with Cruvellier about his book, about the ECCC, and about lessons from the Duch trial that might apply to future international criminal trials.
Chris Tenove: Why did you believe that the Duch trial would be exceptional?
Thierry Cruvellier: I came to Cambodia after covering international tribunals for 10 years, when I was starting to feel like I should move to a new topic. But I realized the Duch trial would be a unique circumstance. Because of the legal system that applied [the ECCC follows France’s civil law system], there would be no plea-bargaining. So even though Duch was essentially pleading guilty, he would have a full trial.
I realized it would be an opportunity to finally hear in detail the voice of the perpetrator. Anyone who covers war crimes tribunals becomes interested in this voice. Only the perpetrator can tell us how that very specific crime – a political crime – actually works. How is it that individuals like Duch, who had not been criminals before this period and would probably never be a criminal after, get involved in a violent machine like S-21?
Victims are frequently brought into public debates about criminal justice policies. This occurs in domestic systems (such as recent changes to Canada’s prostitution laws) and in international criminal justice (such as ongoing debates about the role of victims in trials at the International Criminal Court). Victims are sometimes treated as having moral authority to demand particular policies. However, many experts and policymakers believe that victims’ perspectives should be heavily discounted. They often assume that victims lack generalizable knowledge, and that their desire for vengeance or compensation will lead to unfair judgments or bad policies. Victims therefore tend to be treated in one of two ways – either as privileged spokespersons for justice, or as people who deserve our sympathy but whose views on justice policies should be largely ignored.
I’m currently writing a paper on how researchers and policymakers should listen to and engage victims. Some of the most helpful thoughts that I’ve encountered on the topic come from Judith Shklar’s 1990 book The Faces of Injustice (originally a Storrs Lecture at Yale Law School). I’ll return to those shortly. But first, a word on “victims.”
The term, “victims,” is a loaded one. For some, it is associated with powerlessness or pity and should never be used. While I agree that those negative connotations often exist, I think “victim” is an important social role, and one that should be made empowering rather than stigmatized. After all, most of us will be victims of injustice at some point. To be considered a victim can mean that certain people, or society at large, owe a debt to us for egregious actions against us. Many of the participants in my focus group research in Kenya and Uganda, who had all suffered great violence or injustice, considered themselves “victims,” and saw it as an accurate and somewhat desirable label because of the social obligations it acknowledges. (For some of my reflections on victim participation and the International Criminal Court, see here and here.) Like them, I think it’s important to acknowledge the possibility that victim status is morally signifiant and politically actionable, while at the same time not suggesting that it is the entirety of people’s identity.
In her book, Shklar argues that citizens and political theorists ought to pay serious attention to victims’ perspectives on injustice. She claims that victims’ “sense of injustice” can provide a necessary corrective to existing theories, laws and institutions of justice. She clarifies that our conventional understanding of justice, or “normal justice,” is a “body of rules and basic principles governing the distribution of benefits and burdens within a community, and it demands the establishment of effective and impartial institutions to guarantee the enforcement of these basic rules and principles” (p. 17). This rule-bound, generalized approach is necessary for justice to be institutionalized as laws and organizational practices. But as a result, normal justice frequently has blind spots, gaps and unintended consequences.