On Post-Genocidal Reconciliation

Image Credit: Marina Pascual-Izquierdo

Tri Hoang

Read the Faculty Introduction

The Look of Silence is an award-winning documentary film by Joshua Oppenheimer. The film centers on the confrontation between Adi Rukun, together with his family, and the perpetrators who executed one of his brothers, Ramli Rukun, during the 1965-66 Indonesian genocide. Following the success of the 1965 military coup, Major General Suharto assumed power in Indonesia and began an anti-communist purge, which resulted in the mass killings of an estimated number of one million civilians – who were allegedly identified as communist sympathisers, leftists, and ethnic Chinese. Ramli Rukun was among those convicted of being “communist traitors,” and was cruelly tortured to death by the post-coup military. Today, the story of the Rukuns is a representative experience of all the victimised families in Indonesia who have been silenced and who live in constant fear of violence since the genocide. Through the film, Oppenheimer and Rukun hope to communicate “a poem about the necessity of breaking that silence” and to call for support in promoting justice and reconciliation in Indonesia (thelookofsilence.com).

In his official statement to the public, Adi Rukun explains the motive behind confronting the perpetrators: he hopes “[the perpetrators] would acknowledge what they did was wrong” (indiewire.org). At the end of the film, however, the much-wanted apology from the perpetrators is still withheld. In fact, all of them deny any responsibility for the tragedy. While the Indonesian Genocide has yet to be acknowledged as such, the Rukun brothers’ brave decision to reveal their identities raises the question of the role of formal apology as a form of powerful redress in the aftermath of mass violence.

This paper focuses on the extent to which formal apology is effective in promoting reconciliation in post-genocidal societies like Indonesia. Although a formal apology from a government and perpetrators for their past wrongs has powerful social and moral significance, that alone does not constitute the ultimate remedy for genocidal consequences. Instead, I argue that justice and reconciliation in the aftermath of mass violence can only be fully realised through the economic and political empowerment of the victims and through the promotion of social equality. In the first part of my essay I will discuss the social functions of formal apologies. In this section, I will use the political writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau and Hannah Arendt to set up a framework through which to understand the relations between victims and government perpetrators. I will then examine how different definitions of reconciliation point to a deeper problem that governments systematically fail to address: namely, the economic and social inequalities that too often plague societies in the wake of atrocity. Finally, I will explore how these forms of post-conflict redress might theoretically work to promote long-standing reconciliation and justice.

The Social Functions of Formal Apology

An apology is commonly defined as an expression of regret for a past offense and is usually composed of two elements: “an acknowledgement that one has been in the wrong, together with a statement of remorse” (Weyeneth 12). A formal apology implies that the agents of past wrongs are a government or people in power. While a formal apology has important social functions crucial to post-conflict reconciliation, it may have adverse effects if misused for the interests of the entity in power. Deborah Levi in her article, “The Role of Apology in Mediation,” outlines three kinds of inadequate apologies. She writes that a “tactical” apology that results from a government attempting “to create an atmosphere of trust and good feelings in which an opponent is likely to make a concession” is inadequate because it further marginalizes the victims and serves to reinforce social divisions (1173). While explanations are crucial to genuine apologies, Levi discusses the way in which wholly “explanatory” apologies fail because they can be provided without the speaker genuinely assuming responsibility for their wrongdoing (1173). This can be seen in the actions of someone who makes excuses for their actions but neglects to properly take responsibility for their role in the offense. A “formalistic” apology or an apology made insincerely to appease the interests of a higher party also fails in Levi’s consideration because it is gestural and not genuine (1174). For a formal apology to have a potential role in social reconciliation, sincerity is a prerequisite. A sincere formal apology could recover the lost political legitimacy of a government, and it can work to rebuild social trust among its citizens. It could work to re-establish trust between the victims and the perpetrators. Such a restoration of trust both among citizens and between citizens and the government would precondition social reconciliation.

Mass violence ordered by a government can be regarded as a form of government abuse that demolishes its political legitimacy. In The Social Contract, Jean-Jacques Rousseau clarifies the “double capacity” of every individual, first as a citizen of the sovereign and second as a subject of the state (12). Rousseau defines government as an “intermediate body” functioning as an executive power between the sovereign and the state (43). The political legitimacy of a government as a supreme administrative body is justified by the consent of its citizens, who authorize the government “to work under the direction of the general will, to serve as means of communication between the State and the Sovereign, and to do for the collective person more or less what the union of soul and body does for man” (43). If a government orders and permits a massacre to occur, it casts itself as a “despot” that “[usurps] the sovereign power” for its particular will and “sets [itself] above the laws,” which are agreed upon by the general will (67-68). In this light, one may argue that the post-coup government in Indonesia murdered the so-called “communist traitors” for the general interests and that such an act was in accordance with the will of the many. However, as Hannah Arendt points out in On Revolution, the process of generating the general will can be easily manipulated by a government, who may “[rely] upon the unifying power of [a] national common enemy,” instead of an “agreement of particular interests,” as the sole means to unify the people (Arendt 77-78). The post-coup Suharto government exploited this strategy of “opposition to a third” in the 1965 genocide by triggering a national struggle against the so-called “communist traitors” who were perceived by the government as a threat to its power. In fact, that the event is still considered taboo in Indonesia today implies that the majority of the country’s people did not consent to the killings. Mass violence, as in the case of the Indonesian massacre, is an example of government abuse, which destroys the consent of the people, especially that of the victims, in having the government as their executive power. In other words, what keeps an abusive government in power is no longer its legitimacy, but its “forces,” which coerce people “to yield to force [as] an act of necessity, or at the most, an act of prudence” (Rousseau 5).

A formal apology, on the other hand, would enable a past  government guilty of wrongdoing to constitute or reconstitute its political legitimacy through an assurance of its allegiance to the guidance of the general will. In other words, a formal apology restores the people’s trust in political authority. In essence, the general will is a commitment to advancing “the public advantage” in adherence to the principle of equality (Rousseau 20-21). For victims of genocide, an acknowledgement of their suffering and a promise  not to commit injustice again is an official acknowledgement of their identity as victims of violence (Blatz et al. 221). In Rousseau’s words, such an act is a firm recognition of the victims firstly as citizens of the sovereign and secondly as the subjects of the state, who are protected under the just laws. This recognition implies that the victims can equate their particular interests to those of the perpetrators and the non-victimised majority. In this case, each particular will is equally accounted for in the will of all; victims are equal and legitimate recipients of the benefits derived from the government as it acts in favour of the general will.

For the government and the perpetrators, a sincere formal apology is also a “praise for the current system of law and administration” and helps “decrease perceived threat to the system by explicitly dissociating the present system from the system that permitted the injustice to occur” (Blatz et al. 223). Formal apology therefore has symbolic meanings that can motivate the general population to believe that “they live in a just and fair country” (Blatz et al. 223). In his article, “How Can We Trust our Fellow Citizen,” Claus Offe describes this feeling in terms of “institutional trust,” which he elaborates as a situation wherein “people motivate their ongoing and active support for the institution and the compliance with its rules” (13). In another sense, institutional trust requires “collective expectation, a certainty that the other members of the community will obey the same rules and share [mutual] norms” (Andrieu 13). In other words, an improved institutional trust implies an increase in trust among citizens in the society, where “people within [a society] are trustworthy and see each other as such” (Andrieu 14). In what follows, I will discuss how a formal apology would facilitate trust between citizens, specifically between victims and perpetrators, and how that trusting relationship can provide a platform upon which other reconciliatory efforts can be built.

Post-conflict trust between victims and perpetrators is an important element not only in rebuilding and maintaining a government’s political legitimacy, but also in promoting reconciliation. Formal apology plays an important role in facilitating the restoration of this trusting relationship. Trudy Govier, in her book Human Trust and Human Communities, defines trust by the following characteristics:

(A) expectations of benign, not harmful, behaviour based on beliefs about the trusted person’s motivation and competence; (B) an attribution or assumption of general integrity on the part of the other, a sense that the trusted person is a good person; (C) a willingness to rely or depend on the trusted person, an acceptance of risk and vulnerability; and (D) a general disposition to interpret the trusted person’s actions favourably. (6)

As Govier says, trust involves both one’s confidence that others will behave in a trustworthy manner and that others would also have a similar expectation of him- or herself. Trust is, in this regard, one’s vulnerability to rely on intuition and one’s feelings toward others (Govier 6). Trust relations between victims and perpetrators in the aftermath of a genocide can be viewed suggestively through the lens of the prisoner’s dilemma: the perpetrators may fear the victim’s revenge and the victims may fear that the perpetrators will commit further violence. A cooperative scenario, where both victims and perpetrators are trustworthy and see each other as such and thus do not seek to harm the other, would facilitate social reconciliation (Grovier 11). A defective scenario, on the other hand, where the antagonistic parties distrust each other, would further deteriorate the relationship of the two. The prospect for both parties to achieve a cooperative outcome seems slim, as it is more probable that both victims and perpetrators would choose to defect.

One of the many reasons why the defect outcome is more prevalent is the lack of communication between the parties involved. On this account, a sincere formal apology would break the silence and provide the needed conservation channel, where the government and perpetrators communicate their willingness to cooperate with the victims. The willingness to cooperate may reflect that the perpetrators now view the victims as equal and trustworthy. This conversation, then, serves as “an exchange of shame and power between the offender and the offended,” where the perpetrators acknowledge their past wrongs and the victims have the power whether or not to forgive (Lazare 42). By forgiving the perpetrators for their past wrongs, the victims in return communicate their willingness to form a trusting relationship. While there exist cases where apologies are rejected and perpetrators are not forgiven, it is important to acknowledge that a formal apology does play a role in initiating social trust and reconciliation.

Formal apology, as it contributes to the potential restoration of trust in society, can thus precondition social reconciliation. The International Centre for Transitional Justice includes initiatives, such as “truth commissions, reparation programs and security system reform,” as measures that would enhance the “possibilities for peace, reconciliation and democracy” in regions affected by mass human rights abuses (ICTJ). It is important to note, however, that the success of these initiatives essentially relies on the extent to which institutional and social trust is genuinely achieved. For instance, governments that neglect to formally apologize, but superficially succeed in transforming their “military, police, judiciary and related state institutions” will fail in their efforts to precondition social reconciliation because by refusing to formally apologize to the victims, the government implicitly denies its responsibility for its past wrongs (ICTJ). The victims would thus not view reforms as a legitimate effort to redress their own marginalization. A security system reform in this case seems to benefit the government in consolidating its power rather than the interests of the general population. Similarly, financial compensation offered without a formal apology would merely exacerbate the problem. Quantifying their damages into monetary values degrades the suffering and losses of the victims.

When formal apology is not offered and trust in society is not restored, any attempt to reconcile seems artificial. In fact, Isabelle Auguste provides solid evidence that it was the Australian government’s formal apology for its past mistreatment of the Indigenous children and for other discrimination policies against the Indigenous that “really put the idea of reconciliation ‘back on track’” (321). While her work suggests that society can only begin to make serious efforts towards reconciliation once formal apology is achieved, it is important to emphasize that formal apology does not solely guarantee reconciliation. Instead, it only stimulates social trust, which preconditions other reconciliatory efforts. The success of social reconciliation therefore also depends on what follows formal apology. In the next section, I will clarify what reconciliation is and what is required to achieve a successful post-conflict reconciliation.

Post-genocidal Reconciliation: Toward an Equal and Inclusive Society

Scholars, politicians, and individuals define the concept of reconciliation in different ways. Some believe that reconciliation must encompass many concepts, such as “justice, forgiveness, truth, healing, peace and so on” (Parent 278). Others believe that reconciliation is better understood as “healing individual post-conflict wounds” (Parent 278). A more systematic way to look at different reconciliation approaches is considering retributive and restorative forms of justice. In “Reconciliation and Justice after Genocide,” Genevieve Parent defines the focus of retributive justice as “fighting impunity,” or prosecuting the offenders (282). Parent rejects such an approach, citing “the post-conflict divided society” in Rwanda – where there exist “two distinct, mutually exclusive, and homogeneous social groups” – as a failure of “the government of Rwanda and the international community [for putting too] much emphasis on holding perpetrators accountable” (282). In the same vein, Kora Andrieu criticizes the retributive approach for being too “thin” because it does not work to resolve the “dormant hostility” between the two antagonistic parties, who happen to “coexist without necessarily interacting or forgiving one another” (3). Furthermore, a retributive approach seems to be invalid in cases where some of the perpetrators of a massacre have already deceased or deteriorated  mentally, as seen in The Look of Silence. Admittedly, while retribution as an approach to justice and reconciliation is problematic and may result in adversarial effects to social recovery, the symbolic reinforcement of humanitarian and criminal laws through punishment does play a role in preventing future injustice. Yet, retribution – as a process through which more pain is generated in society, or as Parent would say, a process through which the “perpetrators are victimised” – does not seem to be a sustainable way to rectify social damages (283).

Restorative justice, on the other hand, focuses more on fulfilling the social and emotional needs of the victims as well as “[restoring] the humanity of the perpetrators and their relationship with the victims” (Parent 283). Parent makes his view clear that restorative measures would better promote social reconciliation because they help “[the victims validate their] worth as members of the community – something that is often taken away by the violent act and is rarely restored by retributive justice” (286). Restorative justice, due to its forward-looking perspective and direct address of the victim-perpetrator relationship, is a progressive and promising redress for social reconciliation. However, Andrieu criticizes the restorative approach for being too “thick” because it greatly appeals to emotion and neglects “the real issues, [such as] offering reparation, condemning the perpetrators and enforcing the laws” (3-5). Instead, Andrieu proposes a “subjective definition” of reconciliation, which aims to enable both victims and perpetrators to cooperatively rebuild “social norms and civic trusts” following an “open conservation” initiated by apologies (8). However, Andrieu in this regard seems to speak from a theoretical standpoint that overemphasizes the role of conversation in the “norm-affirming” and “trust-building” process. In post-genocidal  countries like Indonesia, the victims are usually socially and economically disadvantaged in relation to the perpetrators. One therefore may question Andrieu’s claim that victims, given their lower status, could attain an equal voice in “open conversation.” Similarly, the problem with forward-looking restorative justice is that it is not forward-looking enough: the healed relationship between the perpetrators and victims seems fragile if there exists the gap of social and economic status between the two parties. This is because the lower status of the victims is another source of their marginalization in society, which in turn prevents their social reintegration. For this reason, reconciliation  should best be understood as both a process and a goal, where both victims and perpetrators eventually cooperate for an equal and inclusive society.

Equality of Condition as the Ultimate Redress for

Genocide

The goal of an equal and inclusive society in the aftermath of a genocide requires appropriate reconciliatory policies and programs. Since each post-genocidal society has needs specific to its context, it is difficult to generalize about what policies should be put forward. Nevertheless, it is important to discuss the framework that shall guide the process of social reconciliation. In Dimensions of Equality: A Framework for Theory and Action, Baker et al. present three distinct concepts of equality – basic equality, liberal egalitarianism and equality of condition – and discuss the contents and implications of each concept through the lens of the five key dimensions of equality – namely “respect and recognition,” (5) “resources,” (4) “love, care and solidarity,” (6) “power,” (7) and “working and learning” (7). In the context of a genocidal aftermath, the victims are usually worse off in all five dimensions compared to the perpetrators and the non-victimised majority. Silence, stereotypes, and misrepresentation of the victims in the media and education have consistently reinforced their inferior social status, preventing them from attaining an equal standing in terms of social respect and recognition. This inequality then leads to their disadvantage in accessing resources, attaining social solidarity and compassion, engaging in social and political activities, and accessing working and learning opportunities.

While the two concepts of “basic equality” and “liberal egalitarianism” tolerate “the existing inequalities” in society and try to regulate these inequalities at a moderate level, “equality of condition” takes this a step further: it challenges the “existing structures [that] work systematically to generate and reinforce inequality” (Baker et al. 44). In a post-genocidal society, a formal apology without a commitment to ensure social equality, after all, is still an implicit acknowledgement of “inevitable inequality” between the social status of the victims and that of the non-victims. In fact, such inequality works to reinforce their victimhood identity. “Basic equality” and “liberal egalitarianism” fail in this sense as guiding principles for post-genocidal rectification. Equality of condition, unlike other reconciliatory efforts that aim to offer benefits or privileges to the victims, “[enables] and [empowers] people [regardless of their victimhood experience] to exercise […] real choices among real options” (Baker et al. 34). In the dimension of “respect and recognition,” equality of condition offers the victims and perpetrators a chance to engage in a “critical dialogue” about the social, political, and economic inequalities endemic to their society. As Baker et al. claim, the critical dialogue would lead to an acceptance, but not a toleration, of cultural, religious, political and other social differences. This acceptance may be important in amplifying the prospect for “love, care and solidarity” for the victims. In the realms of “resources” and “working and learning,” equality of condition eliminates the unjustified social preferences given to the perpetrators and the privileged and enables the victims to achieve an equal stance in attaining “social and cultural capital,” “knowledge and skills” as well as “opportunities to satisfying work.” In the aspect of “power,” equality of condition enables the victims to participate in making decisions that affect themselves and their society. Women in Rwanda, who were subjected to sexual violence and traumatisation during the 1994 Rwandan genocide, now represent 64 percent of the parliament. Such an advancement of equality of power, as concluded by Powley in her published case study Rwanda: Women Hold Up Half the Parliament, “has been particularly effective in promoting reconciliation” in Rwanda (157). This evidence indicates that reconciliation has a strong connection with social equality and can only be truly and fully realized through promoting social equality.

Formal apology, as it works to re-establish political legitimacy of the government and social trust between antagonistic parties, is an essential component that initiates reconciliation in the aftermath of mass violence, yet, on its own, it does not constitute a comprehensive redress that promises social recovery. Furthermore, post-genocidal reconciliation and justice cannot be sustained in the long term by punishing the offenders, compensating the victims, asking the perpetrators to apologize and the victims to forgive and the like. Instead, the success of a reconciliation realistically depends on how equal and inclusive a post-genocidal society can be under the guiding framework of equality of condition. For most of us who are lucky enough not to be affected by mass violence, the efforts we have made to help promote reconciliation in societies like Indonesia should not cease when the victims are apologized to and sufficiently compensated, or when the perpetrators are forgiven and punished, but should continue until we reach true equality and inclusion for all victims in the wake of a damaged society.

Works Cited

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Parent, Geneviève. “Reconciliation and Justice after Genocide: A Theoretical Exploration.” Genocide Studies and Prevention Vol. 5, no. 3, 2010, 277-92.

Powley, Elizabeth. “Rwanda: Women hold up half the parliament.” In Women in parliament: Beyond numbers, 2nd edn, Edited by Julie Ballington and Azza Karam. International IDEA, 154-63.

Rousseau, Jean-Jacques. The Social Contract. Translated by G.D.H. Cole. J. M. Dent and Sons, 1923.

“The Look Of Silence”. Thelookofsilence.com. Drafthouse Films, 2016. Accessed 11 May 2016.

The Look of Silence. Directed by Joshua Oppenheimer. Why Not Productions, Koch Media, and Drafthouse Films, 2014.

Weyeneth, Robert R. “The Power of Apology and the Process of Historical Reconciliation.” The Public Historian, Vol. 23, no. 3, 2001, 9-38.