IJCentral: International Justice Central

Dictators have a style all their own, full of murals, zoos, gaudy furniture and gold

Rock ‘n’ roll legend has it that during the Sixties, a record executive was invited to the baroque mansion of singer Ike Turner. Observing the mirrored ceilings, whale-shaped television and waterfall in the living room, he was moved to remark: “Man, so you can spend a million dollars at Woolworths.”

This came to mind looking at pictures of Moammar Gadhafi’s compound, invaded by rebel forces in the Libyan capital Tripoli. Perhaps it was the surreal teapot-and-teacups fairground ride in his garden. Or the zoo, stocked with animals supplied by African dictators. Perhaps it was the murals, or even the huge gold sofa shaped like a mermaid and bearing the face of his daughter Aisha.

Dictators are generally not keen to allow hoi polloi a peek inside their homes. Not for them the Hello! spread. (It can be inconvenient for the little people to glimpse one’s gold taps when they lack clean water.) But, should you see inside (without an accompanying death warrant), the only thing not to expect, as Peter York noted, in his 2005 book Dictators’ Homes, is good taste. As Gadhafi, Saddam Hussein and countless others before them have shown, there is a definite stylistic thread, a dictator chic, if you like. And dictator chic is about the display of wealth and power in every possible form.

Firstly, there must be gold. Lots of it, in the form of cutlery, taps, weapons, sofas in the shape of family members. Last week, a looter of Gadhafi’s compound was pictured brandishing what appeared to be gold revolver. I’d bet the sofa remains in place - it would require the entire rebel force to lift it.

There should be ornate French furniture - a favourite of the nouveau riche (dictators do not usually come from wealthy backgrounds). Reproduction is preferable, being shinier than the antique stuff. Shiny, whether it be marble floors or planet-sized chandeliers, is a key element of dictator chic.

There must be animals, too; preferably live ones within a private zoo, and if that proves difficult, glorified images of them: fearsome beasts such as eagles, bears and lions. Jean-Bedel Bokassa, former self-appointed emperor of the Central African Republic, took this to its apotheosis with a towering, gold-plated, two-ton throne in the shape of a spread eagle (it went very fetchingly with his red velvet and ermine train).

There should also be murals in abundance. Saddam Hussein’s wall paintings became globally famous. In a typical example, a naked Fabio look-alike wrestled an oversized fanged snake, while a bare-breasted blond looked on.

In another, gold-tipped missiles poked rigidly into the sky. It is fair to say Freud would have not have been bored.

But the cornerstone of dictator chic is “things in one’s own image.” The late Saparmurat Niyazov, president of Turkmenistan, commissioned, among many monuments to himself, a gold statue that revolved to always face the sun. (He said, in a 60 Minutes interview: “I’m personally against seeing my statues in the streets, but it’s what the people want .”) It makes the residences of Stalin and Hitler seem austere.

I might be the only person who quite liked the retro, Orla Kiely-style palm print on Gadhafi’s Bedouin tent (former British prime minister Tony Blair got a close look when he visited; ask him).

But as dictators fall, there are odd reminders that they are human, too. Discovered in the compound were family photo albums (one, curiously, devoted to Condoleezza Rice). There was the melancholic sight of his daughter Hanna’s bedroom, preserved under glass since her death in 1986.

But it is hard to feel much sympathy. For whenever these palaces are finally sprung open, as Gadhafi’s was last week, citizens are overwhelmed by the riches they find inside, riches usually harvested from people who are struggling to feed their children.

Yesterday, as a 10-year-old boy struggled with his loot - including a suitcase, replica gun and satellite television receiver - a soldier reportedly shouted at him to stop.

“Let him take what he wants,” came the response from other Libyans. “It belongs to him.”

Gold mermaid sofa, anyone?

© Copyright (c) The Edmonton Journal

Dear Thomas,

Thanks for your letter. I would have written back earlier, but I’ve kind of been on the move lately. I did find the time to read the Rome Statute that you sent me though. Very interesting, but let me just say, whoever wrote that thing is a real killjoy.
Thanks too for being so welcoming, but I’m afraid you’ve got it all wrong. I’d love to come and visit you in The Hague, but I’m headed for sunnier shores, Venezuela perhaps (I wrote to Hugo and I’m waiting to hear back), or Cuba if they’ll have me. There’s talk of Niger putting me up. The Mrs. is on vacation in Algeria right now, but she sends her regards.
Death to all infidel drug addict rebel sewer rats!
Excuse me, a little outburst of rage there. I’m afraid it can’t be helped someti – Europeans your cities will burn, burn I tell you – sorry about that. I’m under a fair bit of stress lately. 
I heard they completed your trial and I had a thought about your little ICC predicament. Have you tried throwing money at the situation? Literally, I mean. Like leaning out of the window of a moving vehicle and chucking it at people. I did that once and got crowned King of Kings – which was nice.
Send my best to the other guys. What’s the wardrobe like there btw? Just in case, you know. I’m quite fond of a colorful throw, and the thought of sober prison garb is rather terrifying. If all goes really wrong I’ll give Tony or Silvio a call. They’re my friends, at least they were last time I checked.

Lots of love,

Muammar

As stated in a previous post on this website, Latin America has demonstrated a true commitment towards the founding and fundamental principles of the Rome Statute. As of September 2011, 118 states have ratified the Rome Statute, including 15 of 19 Latin American countries, thereby demonstrating the commitment from the world and region to ending impunity and adhering to the rule of law. Furthermore, Latin American states have reinforced their commitment to the Rome Statute system by nominating 5 candidates from the region for the ICC judicial elections, to be held during the tenth Assembly of States Parties in December 2011.

Nicaragua is one of the countries in the Americas that have been reluctant to ratify human rights treaties, especially those that refer to massive human rights violations, such as the Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment of 1984, and the Inter-American Convention on Forced Disappearance of Persons. Nicaragua’s accession to the Inter-American Convention to Prevent and Punish Torture, in 2009, should be seen as an exception to the rule and not as a change in its policy towards human rights instruments.

It should also be noted that Nicaragua’s reticent approach to human rights treaties seems to be a common Nicaraguan policy, regardless of the different governments’ ideologies. In this context, it is not outlandish that Nicaragua is not yet a state party to the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (ICC).

Social Situation

Given the difficult social situation in the country, where organized crime is a constant and strong threat to security and political stability, ratification of human rights treaties or the adoption of strong human rights policies do not seem to be a priority.

For example, the latest US State Department country report on Nicaragua identifies deficiencies in its governance system and qualifies it as one of the countries that lacks respect for the rule of law.

This is not news to the local civil society community. International and local NGOs have documented numerous human rights violations on several occasions, including torture and enforced disappearances of people. It is their recording of these violations that has led local NGOs to call incessantly for the government to ratify the Rome Statute, as they view the treaty as being one of the tools that could improve the domestic human rights situation. Like many Latin American countries, Nicaragua has had a history of human rights violations and the issue of dealing with the past is a conflictive topic, which continues to divide local communities.

International Obligations: Fear of the ICC but what about the 1968 Convention on the Non-applicability of Statutory Limitations?

As previously stated, Nicaragua has not signed the Rome Statute of the ICC. At some point, there were reports that a Ministry of Foreign Affairs commission was analyzing the compatibility of the Rome Statute with domestic laws. However, this information was never confirmed and it is uncertain whether or not the alleged commission issued a report on the matter. Also, Nicaragua signed a Bilateral Agreement of Immunity (BIA) with the United States in 2003, an agreement contrary to the ICC principles. It is also – together with the U.S. – the only country that has included a reservation in the annual OAS resolution on the promotion and strengthening of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court.

As we noted in our previous posts for International Justice Central on El Salvador and Guatemala – two other states that are not party to the Rome Statute – parts of society fear that joining the Rome Statute could address human rights violations committed in the ‘80s or ‘90s, a fear similarly held in Nicaraguan society. Given the non-retroactivity principle, it is impossible for the ICC to address those crimes. In addition, joining the ICC does not exclude any other means of justice. Therefore, the human rights abuses committed before the entry into force of the Rome Statute should be addressed by local tribunals or by those tribunals that have jurisdiction.

However, Nicaraguan legal standing differs from Guatemala and El Salvador. Nicaragua has the legal international obligation to investigate and prosecute international crimes because on 3 September 1986, the country acceded to the 1968 Convention on the Non-applicability of Statutory Limitations to War Crimes and Crimes Against Humanity. Article 1 of the Convention, which entered into force on 11 November 11 1970, stipulates that “no statutory limitation shall apply to the following crimes, irrespective of the date of their commission.”

This means that regardless of the obligations that Nicaragua has before the Inter-American Convention of Human Rights and the rulings of the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, the country has an obligation to implement the necessary laws to prevent impunity. Therefore, the human rights violations committed in the ‘80s or ‘90s have to be prosecuted by the Nicaraguan authorities and the ICC does not have jurisdiction over those crimes whatsoever.

As with many countries in the region, numerous Rome Statute core principles are already binding on Nicaragua through the 1969 American Convention on Human Rights, the Convention on the Non-statutory Limitations to War crimes and crimes against humanity and the rulings of the Inter-American Court of Human Rights.

Even though the new Criminal Code adopted in 2008 incorporates most of the crimes under the Rome Statute, including war crimes, it is important that the Nicaraguan state accede to the Rome Statute.

All for the ICC? If there is no door, a window must be open in the Nicaraguan Presidential election.

According to information by local NGOs, the main obstacles for Rome Statute accession come from the Executive branch, specifically from current President Ortega. Since he entered into office, he has neither shown political willingness nor support towards the ICC. This lack of willingness could be related to the discussions on the La Penca bombing that happened 20 years ago, discussions that have made headlines in the most important newspapers for some time now.

Elections will be held on 6 November 2011 and the political climate seems to be polarized between the Frente Sandinista (that promotes the re-election of M. Daniel Ortega), the Partido Liberal Independiente (whose nominee is M. Fabio Gadea) and the Partido Liberal Constitucionalista, which supports M. Arnoldo Alemán. In terms of the ICC, M. Gadea and M. Alemán have been more positive toward a possible accession, but none of them has made a public commitment to it. M. Ortega, on the other hand, does not even mention the ICC in his platform.

In this sense, a challenge for Nicaraguan society, universities, academics and the media is to seek a clear and direct commitment from the political parties to ratify and abide to core human rights treaties and the Rome Statute.

To conclude, many legal controversies regarding the Rome Statute in Nicaragua have been already addressed by other Latin American countries, most of them already ICC State parties. Therefore, the Rome Statute strengthens international justice and national judicial systems; this is a benefit and we should all strive to support it. This upcoming election in Nicaragua should be seen as an opportunity to address human rights issues and the ratification of the Rome Statute, without taboos or personal agendas.

—-

Mariana Rodriguez Pareja is a Communications Expert and Human Rights Advocate. Twitter: @maritaerrepe
Salvador Herencia Carrasco. LL.M. University of Ottawa, Legal adviser of the Andean Commission of Jurists. E-mail: sherencia@cajpe.org.pe

Who?

Conflicting Soviet and Korean records indicate that Kim was born on February 16th, in either 1941 or 1942, either in Russia or in a secret military camp in Japanese Korea. In any event, his official biographers claim that Kim’s birth was foretold by a swallow, and heralded by the appearance of a double rainbow over the mountains and a new star in the heavens. The son of Kim il-Sung, the Korean communist guerilla-politician who became the Eternal President of the Republic, Kim Jong-il followed in his father’s footsteps, developing a bizarre cult of personality, and brutally repressing the people of North Korea.

Kim graduated Kim il-Sung University in 1964, was groomed for leadership thereafter and was eventually designated successor to his father in 1980, though didn’t hold any positions of real power. In 1991 he took control of the armed forces despite his lack of military experience, and eventually took over leadership of the ruling Korean Worker’s Party in 1997 - three years after the death of his father.

Known for his almost comical personal style - platform shoes, khaki military outfits, sunglasses and that bouffant hairstyle - Kim’s eccentricities, which sadly are not limited to his personal style, mask either the cunning mind of a master manipulator, or betray an irrational madman, and in any event seem to serve the purpose of keeping the Western world guessing. Indeed whether a master manipulator, or an irrational madman, Kim Jong-il’s brutal repression of the North Korean people certainly warrants his place on the world’s most wanted list.

Why?

Kim’s regime is consistently ranked in every survey of freedom and human rights as the worst of the worst. Widespread violations of human rights are the norm, external monitoring agencies are severely restricted and aid workers face considerable scrutiny, ensuring that a fuller picture of one of the bleakest places on earth is extremely difficult to assess. Despite the lack of clarity on the country’s dire situation, it is clear that Kim’s government controls virtually all activities within the nation, with Kim ensuring that dissent of any kind is severely punished.

Public and secret executions, torture, disappearances, extra-judicial and arbitrary detention, a complete absence of due process and the rule of law, prison camps and the extensive use of forced labour are typical forms of punishment in North Korea. The death penalty is retained for a wide array of crimes, including, in one case from 2010, for divulging, via an illegal Chinese mobile phone, the price of rice as well as other information on living conditions in the country.

According to US State Department statistics, North Korea operates several political gulags, holding upwards of 200,000 prisoners who are forced to perform dangerous ‘slave’ work, whilst guards are trained to treat detainees as sub-human. In ‘re-education’ camps, prisoners deemed to have strayed too far from the Dear Leader’s wishes are subjected to show trials and brutal torture. Should they survive that, they are instructed ideologically and forced to memorize speeches of Kim il-sung and Kim Jong-il, as well as undergo self-criticism rites.

Freedom of thought, expression and assembly are practically non-existent despite their guarantee in the constitution. The government even distributes all television and radio sets, programming them so that only government broadcasts can be received. Citizens found altering them to receive programming from other nations are harshly punished. Freedom of movement is strictly curtailed; only the political elite may own or lease vehicles, and citizens cannot freely travel around the country, much less travel abroad. Defectors, if caught, are subjected to extreme punishments. In 2005, Lee who was eight months pregnant, escaped to China. She was caught by authorities and returned to North Korea. Weeks later, a soldier stood beside her prison bed and, moments after she had given birth, suffocated her baby boy.

Furthermore the government’s economic mismanagement and poor agricultural policies have contributed to significant food crises, even famine, resulting in the deaths of up to 1 million people in the late 1990s. The continuation of such policies, as well the North’s natural susceptibility to flooding and food shortages, has had a devastating impact on the population’s health, demonstrated by the large numbers of acutely malnourished women and children.

The human rights situation in North Korea is evidently exceptionally appalling, and is only compounded by Kim Jong-il’s isolationism, unpredictability and aggression on the international stage. Kim’s refusal to halt his nuclear weapons program, as well as his support of other countries’ nuclear aspirations has inevitably led to international opprobrium of his regime, as well as a dangerous regional security situation.

Where?

Fortunately, Kim Jong-il has few friends. However the ones he does have are incredibly and stubbornly loyal, and unfortunately very powerful, helping to ensure the long-term stability of Kim’s totalitarian regime. Kim visited China most recently in May 2011, marking the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Treaty of Friendship, Cooperation and Mutual Assistance. In August this year, he visited Russia for talks with President Dimitry Medvedev. Whilst some argue that engagement with Kim is essential for maintaining a semblance of progress on the six-party talks aimed at finding peaceful resolutions to regional security concerns caused by North Korea’s nuclear weapons program, it is nonetheless deplorable that two permanent members of the UN Security Council so openly support such a barbaric regime.

When?

Perhaps the most cited example of the apparent conflict between peace and justice is Kim Jong-il. His unpredictability, possession of nuclear weapons, and apparent willingness to flout international rules to the detriment of the North Korean population have all helped to ensure Kim’s continued impunity. Of course, close ties with China and Russia virtually guarantee that any threatened ICC action would be vetoed, or at least deferred for as long as possible. However, on December 6th 2010 Luis Moreno-Ocampo announced that a preliminary examination had been opened by the ICC to determine whether the sinking of a South Korean warship, and the shelling of Yeonpyeong Island by the North constituted war crimes.

What he says…

Rather predictably, the North Korean regime’s position is that it has no human rights issue and that its socialist system was chosen by the people and serves them faithfully. Furthermore it points to the the country’s constitution, which guarantees the protection of certain rights and freedoms. Criminal procedural law prohibits the mistreatment of detainees and so serves as conclusive evidence that allegations of human rights abuses in prison camps are complete fabrications of foreigners, designed only to interfere in the internal affairs of North Korea and force down their values. Unsurprisingly, the Dear Leader rarely speaks out in public, however in his speech-turned-book, serious concern at the persistence of continuing reports of systematic, widespread and grave violations of civil, political, economic, social and cultural rights, but has failed to act decisively on its findings, perpetuating, indeed exacerbating, the culture of impunity. North Korean rights groups have called for Kim to be investigated by the ICC for crimes against humanity. It would certainly seem as though Kim’s human rights violations are systematic and widespread, and certainly reach an extreme threshold. Whether the calls of these pressure groups will lead to firm and meaningful action on the part of the ICC and the international community remains to be seen. One cannot deny, however, that any such action seems increasingly unlikely in the near future.

Such pessimism regarding potential ICC action should not deter the international community from pursuing justice in North Korea. As a recent New York Times op-ed highlighted, engagement is an important tool in ending impunity, and to that end the international community must end its silence on the severe human rights abuses in the country, support efforts to get outside information into North Korea, and find ways to talk face-to-face with the regime and raise human rights concerns. Holding Kim to account for his crimes will certainly not be easy, if at all possible, and the recent moves towards naming his possible successor will only serve to increase the unpredictability, volatility and determination of the regime. However such obstacles should not negate the notion that significant progress towards alleviating the misery and suffering of millions can and must be made.

IJCentral’s Most Wanted is written by Aneil Sharma.
Aneil studied for his LLM in International Criminal Justice and Armed Conflict at University of Nottingham (2006) and recently graduated law school (2010), where he was also an editor of the students’ human rights law journal. He has done internships with Oxfam and The British Institute of International and Comparative Law in London and has completed casework for Amicus, who assist US lawyers on capital punishment cases. He intends to return to school to study for his PhD.

Follow Aneil on Twitter: @theSharmz

Exclusive blog series on the ever-changing relationship between the United States and the International Criminal Court (part 1 of 3).

I have been watching the Obama administration’s approach to the International Criminal Court with skeptical optimism.  Many have claimed that a shift from what critics refer to as the belligerent Bush administration days of invade-The-Hague-acts and cutting off foreign aid to countries supporting the ICC, to the perceived multilateral, peace-oriented Obama administration would signal a dramatic shift in US-ICC relations.  Some even claimed the possibility of ICC ratification of the Rome Statute!  Now most observers of the Court realize that this step is not in the offing, but a transformation from belligerency to cooperation seems plausible.  But this observation begs three primary questions—first, was the Bush administration that belligerent? Second, has Obama initiated a friendly relationship with the Court that may result in actual political cooperation?  And third, and most importantly, how does a friendly relationship with the ICC benefit US foreign policy? In this post I will engage the first of these questions, with a specific examination of the Bush administration policies and their so-called belligerent approach. Future posts will engage the latter two questions along with other issues pertaining to the influence of the ICC.

So, was the Bush administration fundamentally opposed to the ICC and did it act to undermine the Court’s mandate?  The answer is a surprising yes and no.  Yes, the Bush administration acted to cripple the Court on many occasions; however, the Bush administration did not act alone within the US foreign policy-making community.  The most notorious of acts passed during the Bush administration’s tenure was the American Servicemembers Protection Act of 2002 (sometimes referred to as the Hague Invasion Act). The American Service Members Protection Act (ASPA) stipulates that the United States government views the ICC as an institution that exposes US military personnel and governmental officials to prosecution that is not pursuant with the US Constitution.  As a result, the ASPA authorizes the President:

to use all means necessary and appropriate to bring about the release from captivity of any person described in subsection (b) who is being detained or imprisoned against that person’s will by or on behalf of the International Criminal Court.

This act also allows the United States to terminate military assistance to ICC party states, limits the availability of US peacekeepers to UN mandated missions, prohibits the transfer of classified national security information to the ICC, and generally prohibits any cooperative arrangements between the United States and the Court.  Clearly this is a legislative attempt to distance the United States from the ICC and may be perceived as an attempt to cripple the Court as an institution of global justice.  But what is often forgotten in discussions of this legislative act is exactly that—this was a legislative act, not an executive order or other Presidential action.  And the Congressional vote was not exactly close or partisan.  In the Senate, the vote was 75 in favor and 19 opposed.  Of the 75 affirmative votes, Democrats cast 29.  The House vote was similar—280 yeas, with 84 from Democrats, and 138 opposed.  The point being that this act, along with other anti-ICC legislation like the Nethercutt Amendment, was not simply the act of President Bush and his cabinet.  The anti-ICC sentiment extended beyond the White House and included large portions of Capital Hill—both on the right and the left.

It should also be noted that many of the more accepting actions concerning the ICC began during the final years of the Bush administration.  The most prominent of these actions was the United States abstention from the United Nations Security Council vote on ICC jurisdiction within Sudan. Although not full scale acceptance of the Court (we should not forget that the resolution exempts US personnel from ICC jurisdiction in Sudan), the decision not to invoke their veto power provides some evidence of acceptance. 

The other ICC-friendly area of change concerns the Bilateral Immunity Agreements (BIAs).  On a diplomatic mission trip, Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice alluded to the notion that the United States may not want to follow through on some of the BIAs they have signed.  In her words, cutting off aid to allies and/or important counterterrorism or counter drug countries is “the same as shooting ourselves in the foot.”  Further action on this issue was undertaken in September of 2006 (prior to the take-over of Congress by the Democrats) when the House and Senate approved amendments to the ASPA that now allows International Military Educational and Training (IMET) funding to states that have not yet signed a BIA.

So does this type of analysis lead to the conclusion that ICC policy during the Bush years was not belligerent and was in fact ICC-friendly?  No, certainly not.  The Bush administration did remove their legal obligations to the ICC that existed as a result of President Clinton’s signature.  They did use Article 98 agreements to exempt US forces from ICC jurisdiction.  And they did approve the ASPA and the Nethercutt Amendment, among other undermining policies and statements. 

What this analysis does tell us about the Bush administration is two things—first, the belligerent attitude towards the ICC was not simply executive branch driven or primarily partisan.  During the first term of the administration there appeared to be wide spread political opposition to the Court and a desire to protect the sovereignty of the United States from this “politicized” institution.  Second, the Bush administration began to realize, some may say learn, that the ICC is not an evil institution and might actually be useful in the protection of American national interests.  It is here that the Obama administration enters the fray with many ICC advocates hoping for substantive change in policy towards the Court.  But it is important to remember that such change was already in the offing, so it is more about what the Obama administration would do with these small steps of acceptance as the audacity of hope takes control of the White House.

——

Eric K. Leonard currently holds the Henkel Family Endowed Chair in International Affairs at Shenandoah University.  He has written and presented extensively on the International Criminal Court including journal articles, encyclopedia entries, case studies and a book entitled, The Onset of Global Governance: International Relations Theory and the International Criminal Court.

By Michelle Chen for Colorlines
Monday, October 3 2011, 11:10 AM EST

When several prominent Kenyans appear before the International Criminal Court in the coming days, they’ll be judged by a legal standard that no one, in theory, should be above. But to critics, the court itself isn’t above politics that too often get in the way of real justice.

The cases center on six men from Kenya’s two main rival factions, who allegedly helped orchestrate an outbreak of post-election violence. For weeks, the country was awash in killings, rapes and the displacement of some half a million people, and then months of tense silence. Many Kenyans are hopeful that the International Criminal Court (ICC) might cut through the country’s “culture of impunity.” Others fear the court will only exercise the cultural impunity of Western powers.

The ICC itself is a recent invention—based on the 2002 protocol known as the Rome Statute (joined by 118 countries, not including the U.S.). But the institution is rooted in a legacy of international courts dating back decades, from the post-World War II Nuremburg Trials to post-conflict tribunals for Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia. It’s still evolving. So far, the court has yielded only a handful of cases and trials. One of the most notorious suspects, President Omar Al-Bashir of Sudan, remains “at large.” In part this is due to the ICC’s limited jurisdiction, as a court of last resort for issues that governments fail to address through their own institutions. ICC trials, based on investigations that can be initiated by the prosecutor or by the United Nations Security Council, focus on “those accused of the gravest crimes.”

That doesn’t guarantee justice for victims, of course, but it does at least get people talking about what it might look like. Last year, Kenya’s fragile coalition government (a fusion of the two factions that clashed in 2007) launched a new constitution to help push the country beyond the conflicts that shattered Kenya’s image as a bastion of stability in the region.

Today, Kenyans wonder whether outside intervention through the ICC would solidify national unity or reopen half-healed wounds.

The ICC issue has reignited domestic political tensions ahead of the 2012 elections, imperiling the presidential prospects of Deputy Prime Minister Uhuru Kenyatta, son of Kenya’s first President Jomo Kenyatta. Prosecutor Luis Moreno-Ocampo charges that Kenyatta and two other high-profile allies of President Mwai Kibaki, conspired to stoke factional and ethnic violence after the election, including brutal police crackdowns as well as attacks by members of the Kikuyu Mungiki sect against supporters of Prime Minister Raila Odinga. (Three suspects on Odinga’s side also face ICC charges.)

Kenyatta, for his part, has denounced the allegations as a “pack of lies.” Earlier this year, the Kenyan government even sought to block the entire ICC process from moving forward, though the attempt at a legal end-run ultimately failed, according to Human Rights Watch.

Kenyans in the street are divided. In a BBC report last December, an interviewee voiced well-founded skepticism: “The work of the ICC is partial and if they are not going to raise the standards, they have no business investigating people. Whether by design or default, politics can be read all over the work of this court.”

But Patrick Gathara, a Kenyan political cartoonist and activist, told Colorlines.com that a flawed process could still serve a higher purpose:

The court is itself set up to achieve political purposes and is therefore open to criticisms of bias and selective prosecutions. While these are legitimate concerns, we should not lose sight of the fact that the court does try real cases and deal with real crimes; and that some justice (however selective) is better than none. …

[The ICC] targets African countries and “rogue” states simply because the powers that be (read: the West) will not countenance their citizens or their allies being subject to international processes…. International justice, like most other international systems, is an evolving concept and therefore we should consolidate whatever advances have been made while at the same time seeking to extend them.

The Kenyan government is getting even more mixed reviews. According to one monitoring report published earlier this year, opinion surveys show that despite reforms following the 2007 conflicts:

Politicians are widely viewed as sponsors of illegal armed groups that took part in the violence, and which transformed into extortion gangs. Up to 42 percent of respondents in the survey think these illegal groups will emerge and play a political role before 2012. Failure to prosecute political and civil crimes has eroded public confidence in the government’s ability and willingness to fight impunity. It has slowed the momentum of citizen advocacy for prosecution or other forms of accountability.

According to surveys, a slight majority of Kenyans favored an ICC trial in the Hague for the six suspects; about a third preferred a “local tribunal.”

Applying a global standard of equal justice seems near impossible for crimes that stem from vast inequalities in wealth and power, particularly when judgement shades into issues of race and gender. The court’s critics see imperialism behind its seemingly disproportionate fixation on, and demonization of, the leaders of African countries (Democratic Republic of Congo, Uganda, Darfur and Central African Republic in addition to Kenya). And when it operates alongside a global war on terror (the leaders of which have somehow, curiously, evaded the long arm of the law), a court without boundaries seems the very picture of neoliberal impunity.

After the ICC issued a warrant against Libyan leader Col. Muammar Gaddafi earlier this year, the head of the African Union lashed out at the court for imposing Western-centric “double standards,” reported the New York Times:

The African Union’s chairman, Jean Ping, told reporters that the court was “discriminatory” and focused on crimes committed in Africa but ignored those committed by Western powers, including in Afghanistan, Iraq and Pakistan. “With this in mind, we recommend that the member states do not cooperate with the execution of this arrest warrant,” the motion said.

Its scope may be narrow, but the ICC dockets are hardly stuffed with frivolous charges. They’re replete with chronically overlooked cases of rape, mass murder and other atrocities. The injustice lies in the ongoing human rights violations that take place outside the Hague every day, sometimes under regimes that the ICC is already probing. Indeed, Human Rights Watch criticized the ICC as well for inconsistent case selection—not necessarily because of political or racial bias, but because investigations had often overlooked major crimes and perpetrators.

Gender-related violence is another potential blind spot, particularly in the case of Thomas Lubanga Dyilo, a DRC rebel now on trial for crimes related to child soldiers. Women’s Initiatives for Gender Justice recently expressed outrage at “the absence of charges for gender-based crimes in the case against the leader of a militia group widely known to have committed rape, sexual enslavement, and other forms of sexualised violence.”

More than 60 years ago, in the wake of the Holocaust, the Nuremburg trials seeded a vision for some form of universal justice. Now, the ICC still falls well short of that goal, but it has widened the road to global justice and complicated it along the way. Recently, some have speculated that Palestine’s pursuit of full statehood status at the U.N. might open opportunities to bring Israel to the Hague. Imagine the state birthed from the ashes of genocide finally being held to account for atrocities committed in its own name.

José Ayala Lasso, former U.N. High Commissioner for Human Rights once warned us, “A person stands a better chance of being tried and judged for killing one human being than for killing 100,000.” Though the International Criminal Court hasn’t corrected that imbalance, it has tipped the scales of justice just slightly, toward a collective moral gravity.

For original article, please click here.

I’m sitting with Luis Moreno Ocampo in an uptown Manhattan conference room. Ocampo is framed by his press secretary and bodyguard. Otherwise the large room is empty. With both hands, Ocampo delicately slides my recording device towards him on the gleaming mahogany table. He leans over it intently, as if he were examining evidence.

To many, the chief prosecutor of the International Criminal Court (ICC), Luis Moreno Ocampo, is known simply as ‘The Prosecutor.’ His mission at the ICC is not unlike that of a superhero: to seek out the world’s most notorious evildoers, and obtain justice for their crimes. With active cases in six of the world’s most deadly conflicts, and arrest warrants for two sitting heads of states, Ocampo has presided over the launch of the first major global institution of the 21st century, and the most ambitious international legal project in the history of mankind.

Like other caped crusaders, there are movies about ‘The Prosecutor.’ The latest, Prosecutor, by Canadian filmmaker Barry Stevens, has brought Ocampo from the United Nations for the film’s opening night at New York’s Paley DocFest, and will be premiering on The Documentary Channel on October 9th. Prosecutor follows Ocampo as he visits war-torn communities, negotiates with heads of state, coaches his legal team on how to behave in the courtroom, and strolls introspectively through the misty cobblestone streets of The Hague. The prosecutor’s quest for justice looks glamorous at points: he even gets to wear a costume, a kind of cape in the form of the legal robes of the ICC. The opening scene of the movie shows him disembarking from a UN helicopter and striding towards a dusty, remote African village, wearing a white linen suit.

But unlike the Justice Brigade, Ocampo’s fights aren’t just with super-villains. As the first person to ever hold the position of chief prosecutor at the ICC, Ocampo has had the daunting task of convincing the world that an idea, a hope, can become a reality: that a permanent, independent criminal court could have universal jurisdiction for genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity.

From day one, the prosecutor has had to battle for this idea at every turn, and field attacks from almost every side. The Court survived the Bush administration’s harsh policies, which forbade other countries from cooperating with the Court, threatening to stop suspend foreign military aid to those that would not conform. And the African Union has come to balk at the Court’s perceived agenda to only prosecute Africans. Prominent human rights NGOs are still criticizing the Court for not doing enough. In Prosecutor, we see Ocampo come under fire from a BBC anchor for the length of time and money it has taken to set up the Court, which, to this day, has yet to convict a single suspect.

A new prosecutor will be selected by the Assembly of States Parties of the ICC come December, and I’m eager to ask Ocampo about how he feels as his term as prosecutor draws to a close. Ocampo, though, stays steadily focused on process, portraying a decisive, albeit weary confidence in the slow progress the institution has made along the way. Despite some characteristic eccentricities and the glare of the public spotlight, he is eager to deflect personal questions back to the Court itself.

It seems then that the film, Prosecutor, is appropriately named: unlike Ocampo’s superhero moniker, ‘The Prosecutor’, whatever contribution Ocampo has made, the heroic arc in this story isn’t found in one man’s journey, but in the world’s quest for justice, embodied by the extraordinary global accomplishment of the ICC.

Hannah Dunphy for IJCentral: Tell me about this film, Prosecutor.  Why do you think people should see it?

Luis Moreno Ocampo: The movie gets people to understand there is an institution that is working to do justice for the worst crimes, and for the victims. There are 2.4 billion citizens in 118 states parties of the Rome Statute, so we are working for them. So, how can I reach them? I need a movie. I hope that some of them see the movie. Interestingly, movies can help [people] to understand what happened, you know? The Nuremburg trial was very important but people changed their mind with the movie about the Nuremburg trial.

IJC: Let’s talk about some of the cases before the Court. Libya has been in the news, and as of today, Colonel Qaddafi is still at large. What do you say to the NTC (National Transitional Council) when they make statements about putting Gaddafi on trial in Libya?

LMO: Today, the only arrest warrant for Qaddafi has been issued by the International Criminal Court. There is no arrest warrant from a national judge in Libya. Eventually, if they have a case in Libya, they should present the case and the judges of the ICC will decide. But today, the only case is in the ICC.

IJC: Do you think the justice system as it exists today in Libya would have the capacity to try someone like Qaddafi?

LMO: We’ll see, I don’t know. We don’t like to predict.

IJC: The Kenyan case is just getting started, and last week there was a lot of attention paid to the start of the confirmation of charges hearings. As the first case initiated through propio motu, do you feel more personally connected to seeing justice in the Kenyan case?

LMO: Kenya is important not because it’s propio motu. Kenya is important because there was massive violence, and the crimes were committed by political leaders to gain or retain political power. And the risk is that they could do the same in the coming election in 2012. So that’s why the investigations in Kenya are critically important to justice for Kenyans, and also to start building Kenya, so it’s critically important for Africa. And to also send a message: you cannot commit atrocities to gain or retain power. That’s the importance of the Kenyan case. And for Kenyans, I think it’s incredibly interesting for them to see their leaders in the dock, answering questions, trying to explain what happened. I think that’s really important.

IJC: With the General Assembly in session, the question of Palestinian statehood and the ICC is on everyone’s minds. I know that OTP- your offices- had looked into alleged crimes in Gaza. Do you plan to issue any kind of report of your findings in the way that the OTP had done for Colombia and Afghanistan?

LMO: In Palestine, what we are doing is reviewing if they are a state- according to the Rome Statute, to accept jurisdiction. We are discussing this with the Palestinians. Now the issue is also discussing with the Security Council or maybe the General Assembly, so the issue will probably be solved there. What we did in the past two years was receive briefings from Palestine and discuss with them, and many, many other actors who are involved in the debate about if the Court should recognize statehood to accept jurisdiction or not.

IJC: So the issue of statehood would have to be resolved before you issued any kind of statement on alleged crimes in Palestine.

LMO: Yes.

IJC: I think most people would say that you were an incredibly instrumental figure in getting this institution to where it is today. As your term comes to a close, are there things that you look back on that you regret? Is there anything you would have done differently if you knew then what you know now about being the Prosecutor of the ICC?

LMO: When I arrived, I was thinking that my responsibility was to build an institution, and I should do it through selecting the best people I can, defining [policies] clearly, explaining what we are doing to states, NGOs, the international community and to citizens, and then, doing the job. That’s what we did. And we learned by walking. But what I can say is that the Court is working on exactly the type of crimes it was created for, and also keeping consensus about the Court, because the Court has no frivolous cases, and the Court is focused on the most responsible individuals.
And I hope they know that we’re close in the first trial! For me, it was important to finish some trials. I was thinking that I would finish my trials two years ago but – OK- it will be this year. But we are finishing trials and then we are going to a next phase, including reparations, [inaudible], and this conviction of Lubanga [will help with] educational programs around the world to ensure there are no more child soldiers. So basically I feel we put the system in motion, and I will give it to my successor [working]. So I feel… I leave my piece, and I pass it on.

IJC: What do you think is important for the next prosecutor to be able to do for the Court?

LMO: Whether it’s a “her” or “him,” I don’t know- there will be new challenges. I finish on June 16, 2012 and then, new prosecutor, new challenges, new decisions.

IJC: What’s next for you after you finish?

LMO: Let me finish this first, and then we can talk!

Mark Palmer And Patrick Glen | Published: September 29, 2011

Muammar Gaddafi’s fall is the latest in a trend that began with the uprisings in Tunisia last winter that sent Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali skulking into exile and toppled Egypt’s Hosni Mubarak the following month. Movements toward reform saved other despots: King Mohammed VI of Morocco instituted constitutional reforms, while Sudan’s Omar al-Bashir promised not to seek the presidency in 2015.
Against the backdrop of these successes, however, the Arab Spring has had bloody setbacks. Protests in Bahrain and Jordan were violently suppressed. In Syria, Bashar al-Assad’s regime has killed thousands of the brave citizens who have turned out to protest since March. Beyond that region, dictators who continue to oppress include the Castro dynasty in Cuba; the Lukashenko regime in Belarus; Zimbabwe’s independence-leader-turned-tyrant, Robert Mugabe; and the isolationist and paranoid regimes in Burma and North Korea.

Simply put, international law has failed to keep up with the challenges posed by dictatorial regimes.

The 20th century was, to an uncomfortable degree, defined by the depredations and mass slaughters perpetrated by dictators. And thus far there are few indications in the 21st century that history’s lessons have been absorbed. More often than not, international institutions stand by while political rights are eviscerated and mass killings are committed by regimes desperate to retain power. Many applauded the 2009 indictment by the International Criminal Court (ICC) of Sudan’s Bashir, the first of a sitting head of state, yet he remains president and no country through which he has traveled has tried to arrest him. Libya’s Gaddafi has been indicted for crimes against humanity, but there seems to be little prospect of his answering the charges.

What we think of as “international law” is a patchwork of conventions that deal with issues raised by dictatorships in a piecemeal, ineffective fashion. The Convention Against Torture, for instance, addresses politically motivated degrading treatment and torture, while the Genocide Convention targets the worst abuses a dictator could commit. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights delineates a base line of rights that must be protected but offers no clear mechanism by which to vindicate violations. The definition of crimes against humanity, as noted in the ICC’s Rome Statute, could be used to reach many of the abuses a dictator could commit, but the ICC’s efficacy is limited by jurisdictional requirements and the principle of complementarity. This patchwork leaves outside the purview of international institutions many political crimes a dictator would be likely to commit, while punishing certain heinous acts only once they have crossed an acceptably unacceptable threshold.

What the international community needs is a framework that makes clear such forms of governance are violating international law.

The clearest way forward would be through a convention targeting dictatorship as an international crime. Rather than treating dictatorship as an ancillary issue in the prosecution of other crimes, this would focus attention on the types of atrocities and oppression in which dictators engage. These crimes include the curtailment of certain civil liberties — such as the freedoms of association, speech and press — state interference with institutions such as the judiciary and electoral bodies, and oppressive regulation of personal autonomy. Moreover, nations could incorporate this criminalization into domestic law, providing an additional forum in which to publicize violations and prosecute violators.

This step would not represent a dramatic or elitist Western intervention in the internal politics of foreign nations. The rights already guaranteed by international law, under such conventions as the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, serve as the framework of liberal democracy. A prohibition on dictatorship would simply provide a way to vindicate these rights in international or domestic forums.
The Arab Spring and the march away from dictatorship over the past half-century undercut any claim that the rough outlines of democracy are somehow the province of the West. The final form may differ from the Middle East to Africa, just as democracy does not look the same in Washington, Paris and New Delhi. Yet that does not undermine the assertion that the fundamental core of democracy, the protection of political and civil rights by government, is something for which all people yearn.

Eradicating dictatorship would make the world safer for all. It would lift the yoke from the necks of millions still labouring under authoritarian and dictatorial rule. And it would be the clearest vindication of the rights enumerated in the UN Charter in 1945. To paraphrase Gaddafi’s borrowed line, it is time to relegate regimes such as his to the dustbin of history.

Mark Palmer, ambassador to Hungary from 1986 to 1990, is the author of “Breaking the Real Axis of Evil: How to Oust the World’s Last Dictators by 2025.” Patrick Glen, a lawyer in Washington, is an adjunct professor at Georgetown University Law Centre. –Washington Post. Read original article here

By Mac McClelland for Mother Jones, September/October Issue

He dines at the finest restaurants. He’s a leading military official. He owns a bar, a dairy farm, and a pretty mansion. And the International Criminal Court has a warrant for his arrest. So why isn’t Bosco Ntaganda in jail?

—

BOSCO NTAGANDA LOVES A DINNER PARTY. Hell, even a brunch party. And pretty much any time of day is perfect at Le Chalet, Goma’s premier restaurant, where the inside is all slate floors and licheche-wood furniture and Latin jazz, and outside tables dot a manicured lawn that slopes down to Lake Kivu. It has what may be the best selection of booze—Blue Label, pastis, whatever you like—in this provincial capital in eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo. The chicken samosas in curry sauce with pineapple are delightful. And Bosco, a man about town who owns the bar Kivu Light and the Bunyole cheesery, is a fixture here, enough that the first time I walk in, someone says casually, “Oh! You just missed Bosco.”

That’s why one Congolese driver told me he couldn’t take me around Goma because he would be killed the moment I left. That’s why my Congolese sources stay out of nice restaurants, stay out of the city if they can, and when they have to flee the country, they don’t tell their families where they’ve gone or why. That’s why one guy I meet wears a light disguise whenever he goes out (“Oh hey!” an old friend says after initially walking right past him. “I didn’t recognize you!”): Because recently, Bosco tried to kill him.

That’s not included in the official indictment against Bosco. The warrant the International Criminal Court issued for his arrest on August 22, 2006, charged him only with the war crimes of enlisting, conscripting, and using child soldiers back when he was head of military operations for a rebel militia in the early 2000s. These days, he’s technically legit, wearing the uniform of a general in the national Congolese army. In 2009, a peace deal between Congo and Rwanda folded in the Rwandan-backed Congolese militia he headed, the National Congress for the Defense of the People (CNDP), which frankly was kicking the national army’s ass. Both before and since, the ICC and the United Nations and watchdogs like Human Rights Watch have continued to catalog further atrocities he’s alleged to have ordered or participated in: 800 civilians massacred in one town in the Ituri district in 2002; 150 civilians massacred in North Kivu province in 2008; ongoing assassinations and disappearances; ongoing conscription of child soldiers, the very crime he was indicted for. Etcetera.

And that’s why everyone in this dusty, volcano-fringed capital (PDF) talks like spies. “It’s probably best you keep your voice down everywhere all the time while you’re here,” an American aid worker says the moment we meet. “They have people working everywhere,” a Congolese guy tells me, specifically referring to waiters who eavesdrop at bars, saying that when they do you can’t leave because it will look suspicious, so you have to always pretend like you don’t suspect them, so they won’t in turn suspect you. Ex-CNDP soldiers loyal to Bosco are armed and prevalent, in this town of 500,000 and beyond. Consider: This year, when Bosco was implicated in selling $20 million in gold for $7 million in cash to a shady Texas diamond dealer, a Frenchman, and two Nigerians, the regional military spokesperson said it looked like Bosco was smuggling, but really he was just pretending to smuggle to thwart the smugglers. It’s all part of the reason why you’ve never heard of Bosco, why detailed stories about atrocity-witnessing and near escapes and car chases can’t be told for the sake of protecting sources. You wouldn’t believe the opening we had to cut from this piece. It was about a guy who wanted to tell his story to the world in hopes it would change the “hell” he lives in. But then he was cornered by a soldier who reminded him that it’s awfully easy to get killed around here.

So. Take instead what happened to an American filmmaker, now safe at home. Earlier this year, he took it upon himself to shoot mining operations in Goma’s province, North Kivu. Here’s the thing about that: In 2010, President Joseph Kabila temporarily banned mining in this province and two others, on account of armed groups controlling the mines; an estimated 80 percent of what is mined in Congo is smuggled out, a lot of it from this area on the border with Rwanda. And indeed, there, running the mine, were officers from the CNDP—sorry, ex-CNDP, since they’ve technically been integrated into the national army and technically don’t operate for their own profit anymore—wearing CNDP uniforms. They were overseeing workers loading coltan (used in consumer electronics) into produce trucks. There, getting it all on camera, the American filmmaker got caught.

He managed to escape, but word spread through the command, back to Goma, when he returned. “Soldiers followed me all over town,” he says, until he fled to another country. And they didn’t even know he also filmed those women who were raped, and people who were shot by ex-CNDP soldiers now in the national army! His last day in Goma, the filmmaker pushed the furniture in his hotel room up against the door, passing the night barricaded behind it, sleepless, with his eyes wide open and a knife in his hand.

He was lucky. “Even if you have a gun, it doesn’t mean you cannot die,” one Congolese source told me. “You cannot stop them from killing you.”

Some 4,000 miles away from North Kivu, the International Criminal Court sits in a tall, drab office block rising up against seemingly ever-cloudy Dutch skies. The building at Maanweg 174, The Hague, was previously occupied by a telephone company. Proceedings against warlords take place in three low rooms built into the former parking garage.

The court is slated to get its new digs in 2015; these are the temporary offices of the fledgling institution, which was established in 2002. That’s when the requisite 60 countries ratified the treaty that created it, four years after the 1998 UN Conference of Plenipotentiaries on the Establishment of an International Criminal Court—which itself had been years in the making—brought 160 governments together to spend a month fighting out the terms. Not everyone agreed that such a court should exist at all. Leading the haters was the United States, which had grave objections to “an arrangement whereby US armed forces operating overseas could be conceivably prosecuted by the international court.” But in a decade that saw a couple of high-profile genocides, justice was an especially pressing ideal. As the head of the US delegation summed it up to the Senate Foreign Relations Committee afterward, the goal was “accountability, namely to help bring the perpetrators of genocide, crimes against humanity, and war crimes to justice,” via “creating a permanent court that could be more quickly available for investigations and prosecutions and more cost-efficient in its operation.” Supporters wanted to make international justice swifter than the infamously tardy International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, and cheaper than the $1.9 billion, still-ongoing International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia.

The delegates decided that there would be three roads to prosecution: A case could be referred to the ICC by a member state; crimes could be referred to the court by the UN Security Council; or the Office of the Prosecutor could launch an investigation on its own. (Well, not all the delegates decided that. The United States—along with China, Iraq, Israel, Libya, Qatar, and Yemen—voted against the treaty. The US later signed but did not ratify it.) If an ICC investigation finds war crimes, crimes against humanity, or genocide, and the state in which the crimes occur is unwilling or unable to prosecute the case itself, the “court of last resort” can issue warrants of arrest or summonses to appear.

On this early April day, there are two trials in session—both of Congolese former rebel leaders. Thomas Lubanga Dyilo stands accused of conscripting, enlisting, and using child soldiers in Congo. Jean-Pierre Bemba Gombo was arrested for multiple war crimes and crimes against humanity, including rape, torture, and pillaging in the Central African Republic. In the case of Lubanga, today’s testimony is too sensitive to be opened to the public—maybe a witness who’s in particular danger of retribution. But anyone can observe Bemba’s trial (PDF). Between the two prosecutors on the right, two defense lawyers on the left, and three judges sitting center, there are a lot of black robes in the room. Observers listen to testimony via a UN-style translation system. Bemba’s in a suit under guard in the corner; the witness chair is oriented so he can’t look squarely at the person testifying. I know Bemba came to check out his troops, the witness is saying. He knew what his troops were doing. The witness is kind of worked up. The soldiers were raping and looting, he’s saying. Bemba must have known what was happening. For his part, Bemba has got his cantaloupe head sunk into burly shoulders. He’s looking impassive, sometimes taking notes, licking his fingers to turn the page, flicking his eyes again and again toward the observation gallery just a few feet away, but refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

Upstairs, Chief Prosecutor Luis Moreno-Ocampo has his sleeves rolled up behind the desk of his expansive office on the 11th floor. In the ‘80s, he prosecuted mass-murdering military commanders in his native Argentina. In the late ‘90s, he was the star of an Argentine show very much like Judge Judy. He’s grayer now, but still brash and deep-voiced and having an answer for everything. And, for a guy who spends all of his time thinking about war crimes, he has some very happy things to say.

“We are building a new global system,” he informs me. He says the idea that so many countries came together to build this court is insane. The fact that they managed to arrest someone is ridiculous. That they had a first trial was “impossible.” And now, the world is getting smaller. Technology is bringing us closer. Facebook, goddammit. “Cambodia was ignored. Nothing happened. Darfur was not ignored, but took two years to react. Libya? Ten days. Ten days. Bam. And the Security Council, immediately, without hesitation: ‘Refer the case to the ICC.’ Now we’re normal.” He tells me about an Australian fighter pilot who wouldn’t drop a bomb in Iraq because he was afraid of someday being prosecuted. He says a legal adviser told NATO commanders to watch the orders they sign so they don’t end up retiring on the beach only to be surrounded by cops ready to drag them to The Hague. Nepal, he says, demobilized 3,000 child soldiers because of the ICC.

“The court’s existence is important. The message is pretty strong: You cannot commit massive atrocities to remain in power or to gain power,” Moreno-Ocampo says. In the case of Bemba, his arrest probably did teach warlords a lesson about whether they can retire or vacay in Europe, as he was snatched by Belgian authorities while comfortably ensconced in Brussels. Although 44 UN member states have still not signed the Rome Statute, the ICC has 700 staff members from 75 countries. The more countries that are on board, the more the world manages to “create one community called humanity,” the more effective the court can be. “Everything is changing in the world. We can do it.”

Moreno-Ocampo has sunk 10 years of his life into the ICC, separated from his home and his own life and his family. Because “it’s the best job in the world.” Because “I love this mission, to save the world.” Also: “It suits my megalomania.”

That makes him well suited to weather scathing criticism, and does the ICC ever have its share. Those who say that issuing arrest warrants for war criminals still in the throes of warmongering—as in the case of Sudanese president Omar al-Bashir—complicates the peace process and could even incite more violence. Those who complain that the court only goes after Africans, which so far has been true. That the first trial, Lubanga’s, has had disastrous flaws, including the prosecution’s failing to share key documents with the defense. That as an independent court, accountable to no other body, the ICC operates with impunity.

But the issue that could most undermine the very purpose of the court’s existence is its difficulty executing arrest warrants. As a court representative will explain if you sign up for an ICC visitor’s tour, “We don’t have a police force. So when it comes to enforcing our warrants, we rely on state parties.” That means countries that have ratified the treaty, like Congo; all of them are technically obligated to arrest indicted criminals on their soil. Yet out of 26 people for whom warrants and summonses have been issued, 10 of the alleged criminals remain at large. None of the three outstanding warrants (PDF) against Ugandans have been enforced, even though Uganda is an ICC party—but that’s because, the tour guide offers as explanation, the guys are hiding in the no man’s land near the border between Congo and the Central African Republic. When Sudanese President Bashir flew from (non-member-party) Sudan to (member-party) Kenya, he should have been arrested; if he goes into international airspace again, the rep asserts, he will be.

I ask Moreno-Ocampo if it’s only a matter of time for Bosco Ntaganda, too. “Yeah,” he says. “In fact, it is difficult to arrest Bashir, I understand, but it’s not difficult to arrest Bosco. There is no excuse not to arrest Bosco. And he’s committing massive crimes in the DRC.”
This is the part of a paragraph that would usually contain a description of a room, in a (adjective here) building on (this kind of) a street. But I can’t write about any of that. Nor could I bring any Congolese translators along to this interview—the risks to them and the witnesses would have been too great. So I’ve dragged a 22-year-old Columbia University student and fluent French speaker named Joey from the United States.

Joey and I are at the indescribable place to hear a story. It’s about Lt. Colonel Antoine Balibuno, a colleague of Lt. Colonel Innocent Zimurinda, a terrifying Bosco crony who’s been sanctioned by the UN for raping “a large number” of women and girls and murdering a lot of refugees and his own child soldiers. In 2009, Balibuno and Zimurinda were together in Masisi, a few hours from Goma, under Bosco’s command. But Balibuno and Zimurinda had also been integrated into the national army, deployed to the region officially. Not so lucrative a position, working for the broke army of a failed state. Masisi had a lot of trees. Balibuno told friends that Zimurinda enslaved the locals, making them cut down trees, morning and night, to make boards the ex-CNDP could sell. Balibuno said those who resisted were immediately killed. Balibuno said Zimurinda, a Tutsi, was also killing random Hutus. After a while, Balibuno returned to Goma, claiming he didn’t want to be associated with any Bosco-related carnage and corruption in case Bosco took his colonels down with him if he ever did get arrested.

This is the first part of the article. To keep reading, please click here.

Reuters Sep 28, 2011 – 12:35 PM ET | Last Updated: Sep 28, 2011 12:37 PM ET

By Damir Sagolj

THE HAGUE — The road for former Yugoslavia’s war criminals ends here, at “The Hague Hilton.”

In this section of the international war crimes detention centre in Scheveningen, 40 or so accused by the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia live in remarkable harmony and comfort awaiting trial or sentencing.

I am the first journalist ever allowed to report from inside, and as I enter, I have butterflies in my stomach. For as a Bosnian and a photographer, I am a prisoner of my past.

Some of the people detained here were accused of crimes against members of my family. We lived through the siege of Sarajevo. My Muslim relatives — my grandmother, my uncle and others — were forced from their homes by Bosnian Serbs and ended up in Sweden. Croat relatives on my father’s side were driven out — different armies, different turf. Some of my relatives were killed, and later found in mass graves.

Back home in the former Yugoslavia, views of the court, set up with the sole purpose of prosecuting crimes committed during the 1991-2000 conflicts, reflect the divide of a schizophrenic society.

For the nationalists, who regard these people as heroes, this place is a dungeon, but for so many others it’s a stopover on what they hope is the road to hell.

The tribunal in July arrested its last wanted fugitive and is expected to wind up operations in 2014, after deciding the fates of inmates like former Bosnian Serb military leader Ratko Mladic, nicknamed “the butcher of Bosnia,” and his one-time political partner Radovan Karadzic.

The previous day, in the corridors of the tribunal building, I bumped into Karadzic by chance. A brief encounter, our eyes locked, and then he said a hello. I said nothing, my cameras stilled. I thought, even in handcuffs he dwarfs the guards. And then he was gone, escorted to his chair in the courtroom.

I felt no reaction, and that shocked me. My life was in his hands back in the 1990s, when he was in control of the artillery and snipers around Sarajevo.

GOOD BEHAVIOUR

In the detention center, he and his fellow detainees are treated well.

As I smoke a cigarette (although I recently quit smoking) on a balcony, I hear the thwack of a strong first serve on the tennis court below, and then some words in the different dialects of my language. I can’t recognize who is playing on the tennis court below but I’ve heard that Ante Gotovina, the Croatian general accused of war crimes against Serb civilians, is the undisputed tennis champion round here.

Opposite are the solitary cells, rooms with a single mattress on a bare floor and bright yellow walls. David Kennedy, Chief of the Detention Unit, says none of the accused from the former Yugoslavia behave badly enough to end up in solitary.

In fact for most, life here is good: a gym, art rooms, tennis and basketball courts, indoor and outdoor.

There is a kitchen, showers and phone booths between the wings where detainees have their cells. Mobile phones are forbidden so war crimes suspects have to use calling cards (30 euros a month, courtesy of the UN) if they want to call home. No incoming calls are allowed, no Internet, just letters.

Inside their cells, they can watch programs from home on flat screen TVs, and books and papers are delivered regularly. In one empty cell, there’s a pornographic sketch on the wall, someone’s homosexual fantasy.

In the kitchen, I see a pie ready to be baked, a pack of playing cards, and a receipt for 23 euros for a kilo of Dutch beefsteak and some other food delivered to one of the detainees. The food here is prison food, but special orders are allowed including a weekly delivery from a Balkan shop.

Cartoons of Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and ex-Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi snipped from the newspapers are stuck to the kitchen door.

There are even parties. Birthdays and religious holidays are celebrated here, as they were under Tito’s brotherhood and unity. Men who fought on the basis of religion or ethnicity in the 1990s when they were free now sit down at the same table to celebrate each other’s religious festivals.

“They’ll cook for the saints days, get the materials in from the Balkans shop, and the whole wing will sit down and celebrate whatever it is,” said Kennedy.

Even when they are competing on the football field they don’t team up along ethnic lines, and Kennedy says there has not been a single incident of a national or religious nature in all these years.

Is there something to be learned here?

“They get along together because they are in the same circumstances,” Kennedy said.

“They’re facing the same restrictions that custody, being detained, puts on them, they are all living together in the same area, in the same wings, there’s no segregation based on ethnic background, and in those circumstances it’s best and easiest to get through it if you can get on with your neighbors.”

© Thomson Reuters 2011