Grieving for Nigeria’s Kidnapped Girls
In early March, the world watched befuddled as Malaysian Airlines Flight 370 seemingly disappeared into thin air. As an international search and rescue effort began in the South China Sea and ended in heartbreak in the Indian Ocean, news outlets devoted hours to covering the bereaved families.
In mid-April, Boko Haram, the Nigerian terrorist group, abducted 100 schoolgirls in Northeastern Nigeria. After killing two guards at the school, the terrorists packed the girls into the back of an open truck. While 8 managed to escape by grabbing low-hanging branches and jumping out of the vehicle, the majority of the girls still remain missing. 24 hours after the initial disappearance, the Nigerian military reported that they had rescued most of the girls - only to be contradicted later by the principal of the school who insisted that most of his students were still missing. Between misleading statements from the military and the growing climate of fear in Northern Nigeria following recent increases in the boldness and intensity of Boko Haram attacks, there are no doubt that the parents of those girls are paralyzed with fear and worry.
Howard French, professor at Columbia School of Journalism and former New York Times bureau chief for West Africa summed up my sentiments best when he recently tweeted:
Does the collective silence of the international media stem from the tacit belief that violence is the norm in Africa? Are we conditioned not to bat an eyelash at the sorrow of the mothers and fathers who do not know if their children will come home?
These are hard questions with no easy answers, however they merit reflection. As you ponder these questions, please pray for the bereaved families - but pray especially for their girls.
Rudisha Usalama For Whom?
The following post is adapted from an assignment for my class Human Rights in the African Context. All Yalies, if you have the opportunity, please take this course as Soo-Ryun Kwon is a fantastic instructor.
Like the rest of Nairobi, Eastleigh, a largely Somali neighborhood often called Kenya’s “Little Mogadishu”, has flourished as the rest of the country’s economy has thrived. However, the economy is not the only thing booming in the Green City in the Sun. On April 1, 627 people died following bomb blasts in Eastleigh that were suspected to be the work of al-Shabab sympathizers. The following day, the Kenyan police launched a large-scale counter-terrorism operation called Rudisha Usalama (“restore peace” in Kiswahili).
Since April 2, more than 4,000 people, many of them of Somali origin, have been arrested as part of Rudisha Usalama. In visits to Pangani police station in Eastleigh on April 4 and 8, Human Rights Watch found hundreds of detainees packed into cells designed to accommodate 20 people. Forced into unsanitary conditions and detained beyond 24 hours without arraignment, such treatment violates both Kenyan law as well as international laws including the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights.
While some of these detainees will be eventually released, hundreds of Somali refugees face a catch-22 because many lack valid papers as registration of Somali refugees has essentially slowed to a trickle since 2011. These refugees have an uncertain future: the vast majority have been rounded up and taken to Kasarani football stadium for holding. Kenyan activists on Twitter have aptly summed up the situation with #KasaraniConcentrationCamp.
The government crackdown on refugees continues to escalate. The recent Eastleigh arrests are the latest in a series of assaults on their dignity and freedom of movement. Calls for forced movements of urban refugees to camps have resurfaced in the past few days – a direct violation of freedom of movement. In cases in which refugees have actually been deported without recourse to asylum is a clear violation of the principle of non-refoulement, a cornerstone of international law and a prominent feature of the Convention Governing the Specific Aspects of Refugee Problems in Africa. While that document signaled a new era of progressiveness in matters of refugee issues and cast Africa as a leader in the field of refugee affairs, the recent events in Kenya have set back the continent’s progress on this matter.
Rudisha Usalama kwa nani? Restore peace for whom? As a woman falls unconscious in Kasarani stadium after losing consciousness from hunger, fright and anxiety and ababy is left to die as police seize its mother, we must ask ourselves whom we are really helping. Despite the searches, the arrests and the deportations, no terrorists have been uncovered and no more explosives revealed. Instead we must turn to the question of who were are hurting. The answer is all of us.
While the global war on terror remains a challenge across the world, mass arrests and ethnic profiling is unlikely to prevent future attacks or keep Kenyans safe. Terrorism is a terrible; yet even more terrible are the fear-driven actions that such fear compels us to take. Alienating the Somali community through ethnic profiling for the sake of the “security of the nation” only leaves Kenya more insecure and more fragmented across social lines. State security need not come at the expense of human rights.
Instead of allowing violence to beget more violence, Kenya requires a concerted, coordinated approach from all levels of the government bureaucracy to end the ongoing arbitrary detention and abuse of Somali-Kenyans and refugees. The call for an end to state human rights violations must come from the highest office of the land to ensure that resolving the situation becomes a priority for the Kenyatta administration. The president must compel the Interior Cabinet Secretary to respect the July 2013 High Court ruling that forbade the forcible return of refugees to camps. Instead of continuing a system of mass arbitrary detention and deportation, undocumented people should be permitted to file asylum applications. Lastly, police and security forces should be held accountable for the documented incidences of brutality. If it truly wants to restore peace, Kenya’s government should tread carefully for “violence is a disease, a disease that corrupts all who use it regardless of the cause.”
Justice for Kenya
Originally published in Fair Observer on February 4, 2014
A closer look at the ICC and the trial of Kenyan President Uhuru Kenyatta.
Background
Despite the fact that the International Criminal Court (ICC) may appear to be a recent phenomenon, in reality, the long story of its establishment stretches back to the late 19thcentury.
In 1872, Gustav Moynier, one of the founders of the International Committee of the Red Cross, proposed the creation of a permanent international court to seek justice for crimes committed during the Franco-Prussian War.
The next resurgence of interest in the establishment of an international tribunal occurred in 1919 during the Paris Peace Conference, when the drafters of the Treaty of Versailles proposed the establishment of a court to try Kaiser Wilhelm II and German forces. The idea was abandoned until it was resurrected following World War II, when the Allies started the Nuremberg and Tokyo trials to seek justice for victims of atrocities and to punish the perpetrators.
Following these trials, the United Nations General Assembly adopted the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide. The document called for criminals to be tried “by such international penal tribunals” that have jurisdiction, while it also asked the International Law Commission (ILC) “to study the desirability and possibility of establishing an international judicial organ for the trials of persons charged with genocide.” Although the International Law Commission drafted these documents, the plan for an international tribunal was abandoned due to the tense political climate of the Cold War.
In 1989, Trinidad and Tobago, partially motivated by a desire to combat drug trafficking, moved to resurrect the pre-existing proposals for the establishment of an international tribunal. Consequently, the ILC resumed drafting a statute.
In the early 1990s, as the United Nations (UN) established ad hoc tribunals in Rwanda and Bosnia to seek justice for genocide and other crimes against humanity, the need for a permanent international criminal court became increasingly clear.
After years of negotiations, the UN General Assembly convened a conference in Rome in June 1998 to finalize a treaty. On July 17, 1988, the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court was adopted — 120 nations voted in favor of the adoption of the Rome Statute; seven nations, including the United States, Israel, China, Iraq and Qatar, voted against the treaty; and 21 nations abstained. In 2002, the court became fully operational.
According to its mandate, the ICC is intended to complement existing national judicial systems. The court only exercises its jurisdiction in cases where national courts are unwilling or unable to investigate or prosecute crimes. The Office of the Prosecutor is responsible for conducting investigations and prosecutions. The prosecutor opens investigations after referrals from state parties or the UN Security Council. However, the prosecutor may also open an investigation, if they receive information meriting a judicial response from individuals or NGOs.
The first prosecutor of the ICC was Luis Moreno Ocampo, while the current prosecutor is Fatou Bensouda. The court’s headquarters are in The Hague, Netherlands.
Why is the ICC Relevant?
In recent years, the ICC has been accused of bias and neo-colonialism as all eight cases that the court has investigated have been African ones. Despite having a global mandate, African leaders have complained that the ICC places too much of an emphasis on Africa while ignoring other nations.
Due to the prosecution of Kenyan President Uhuru Kenyatta and Vice President William Ruto for crimes committed during 2008’s post-election violence, the ICC has been subject to severe criticism over the last few years. Kenyan Foreign Minister Amina Mohamed has accused the ICC of treating “[Africans] like toddlers,” while the Kenyan parliament passed a motion calling for the withdrawal of support for the ICC.
The Kenyan campaign against the ICC has received support from other African nations. In October 2013, the African Union (AU) convened a summit that condemned the ICC’s treatment of Africa. Following the summit, the AU called upon the ICC and the UN Security Council to delay the Kenyatta/Ruto case.
Now, a debate rages on over the court’s perceived bias and who should direct the fight for justice in Kenya.
A call for respect: how students can fight sexual misconduct
Originally published in the Yale Daily News on February 7, 2014
While this column is Yale-specific, it contains some strategies that could be adopted by students on all college campuses.
The new semi-annual report on sexual misconduct is out, with more reported cases — and more details — than ever. The language is dry, but the emotional weight of the incidents described is undeniable. After the uproar following the last report, we all know we’re supposed to respond. But how? What should students do with this new information? After the last report our community came together in crisis — now, how do we come together in growth?
The University can and must provide us with a solid infrastructure for response: forums for discussion, resources for support and tools for shaping positive culture. But in that last area it is students who ultimately have the largest influence; we mold and shape this culture based on our own experiences and ideals. Each of us must take responsibility in ensuring that everyone on this campus feels welcome, safe and respected. In prompting our peers to act against sexual misconduct, we too often say, “imagine if it was your sister, your brother or your friend.” But we cannot act only due to imagined bonds of friendship or kin. Rather, we should act because we are a community that aims to support its members. If we all adopt this philosophy, the aggregate potential for change is astounding.
Though the number of reported cases of sexual misconduct has risen to an all-time high, there are still likely many incidents that go unreported; as a community, we can address this ongoing problem. The first step is to make sure we are all knowledgeable about campus resources such as the University-Wide Committee on Sexual Misconduct, the Title IX Coordinators and SHARE. Education regarding this array of campus resources likely contributed to the diversity of situations included in the latest report. As the University confronts cases that range from stalking to sexual harassment to assault, community members appear to have realized that any violation of their right to a safe environment warrants attention and appropriate action. It is particularly critical that students in Yale leadership positions learn about accessible resources, as they play a role in setting the tone for interactions on campus.
But simply educating our campus about available resources is not enough. Study after study has found that survivors of sexual assault do not reach out for support or take action because they fear they will not be believed — they fear they will be abandoned by their friends and communities. Administrators have to send a strong message of support, but so do students. We need to make clear to our friends that we hold ourselves to the high standards that we so often discuss, that we are truly committed to treating each other with dignity and respect.
We can accomplish this goal and encourage more reporting by showing that sexual misconduct is not acceptable on this campus, that we as students will not tolerate this behavior. This can mean merely speaking more openly about the topic or actively taking efforts to create safe spaces. In the context of a student organization, that might mean more communication to establish everyone’s comfort level regarding group activities. At a party, it might mean providing an alternative to alcohol or striving to create an environment in which people can stand by their personal wishes for the night without pressure.
To really convey the depth of our support, we need to be active immediately when problems occur, not just afterwards. One of our most powerful tools of prevention is bystander intervention. One might imagine someone intervening as a knight in shining armor, but that’s not what typically occurs — instead, it’s usually a check-in with a friend, a well-placed joke or raised eyebrow, a willingness to step in and change the dynamic when we see pressure or disrespect. In some rare situations, that might involve calling in someone with more authority (another student, a master or dean, even the police), but we shouldn’t underestimate our own personal power to intervene.
By paying attention to the people and situations around us, we can address problems the moment they arise — and at the same time, make our high standards visible to all. The recent report, like the last, is a reminder that every member of our community can be a part of our effort to end sexual misconduct.
May-December Politics in Sub-Saharan Africa
Originally published in Fair Observer on February 5, 2014
In 2009, African leaders met in Addis Ababa to declare 2009-2018 as the “African Youth Decade.” Despite rhetoric promising to mobilize resources to help spur human development and curb unemployment, there has been limited progress on integrating youth into society’s most formidable institution: the statehouse.
Today, Africa has the largest youth population in the world with close to 70% below the age of 25. Despite the huge population growth among the continent’s youth, the average age of an African president is around 63-years-old.
In late January, thousands of demonstrators took to the streets of Ouagadougou in Burkina Faso to protest against proposed changes to the constitution that would allow President Blaise Compaoré to run for another term in 2015. Opposition leaders organized a national day of protest to demand that Compaoré steps down in lieu of making revisions to presidential term limits. Currently, the country’s constitution limits presidents to two five-year terms.
President Compaoré came to power in 1987 following a coup. After serving two seven-year terms, the constitution was changed in 2000, allowing him to serve two additional five-year terms. Under the stipulations of the current constitution, his term is set to end next year.
The recent protests in Burkina Faso are merely emblematic of many African leaders’ refusal to turn over power to a new generation that is crying out for recognition and support. Compaoré is not alone in his long run at the top. Uganda’s Yoweri Museveni has been in power for over 28 years; Cameroon’s Paul Biya for 32 years; Zimbabwe’s infamous Robert Mugabe for 34 years; and José Eduardo Dos Santos of Angola and Teodoro Obiang of Equatorial Guinea for 35 years each.
A Recipe for Instability
Although many of the aforementioned leaders were once heralded as revolutionary heroes to their people, they have since become old men enamored with the trappings of power. Many African leaders are often deluded into thinking they have the hearts of their people.
However, in claiming to love and act in the best interest of their nations, these leaders may do more harm than good. A one-man regime, built on a simulacrum of a functional civil service, is a recipe for disaster when that leader leaves. The tenuous relationships that he has built through lining the pockets of his supporters or by using force will shatter, leaving either a power vacuum or a splintered state.
Nowhere has this been clearer than in the case of Ivory Coast in the 1990s when the death of President Houphouët-Boigny turned the country upside down. As a result, Ivory Coast struggled to maintain peace in the midst of fragmented political relations that led to the 1999 coup and, ultimately, the Ivorian Civil War. The risk that we might witness a future crop of unstable states after the death or fall of one of these aging autocrats is high.
The gap between the leadership and the people has become a growing source of contention as one might see in the recent uproar over Francis Muthaura’s appointment in Kenya. As a former member of the Kibaki administration, Muthaura’s appointment as the head of a multibillion-dollar rail, road, and port project in Lamu alienated local people who demanded a fresh face to spearhead the project. In Kenya, the flames of anger may have dissipated, but we must seriously consider circumstances in which they might burn unabated.
In Burkina Faso, we may be seeing the seeds of a disgruntled youth movement akin to the events of the Arab Spring in which a young population, frustrated with unemployment and autocracy, fought for more democratic representation and economic participation.
Like the aging Sub-Saharan gerontocracy, North African leaders were markedly older than the citizens of their countries. Hosni Mubarak was 82 at the time of his ouster, while the median age in Egypt is around 30. Libya’s Muammar Qaddafi was similarly much older than the average Libyan. As the youth population in Africa continues to explode, it is likely that discontent with aging autocrats will grow unless action is taken now.
Time for Change
Local communities must push for the revitalization of democracy through the enforcement of presidential term limits and a balance of power. By ensuring smooth transfers of power between candidates truly chosen by the people, citizens have a greater chance of ensuring that their interests are represented.
However, in urging the gerontocracy to abdicate its de-facto throne, it must also be ensured that African nations do not suffer due to a limited pool of qualified candidates. To overcome these potential shortcomings, the international community must continue its support of improving education and building capacity in the developing world.
As we lie in the midst of an African Renaissance and a global boom in technology, the possibilities to rapidly accelerate opportunities for citizens to improve their education and make the leap towards public service are endless. There are hundreds clamoring at the door to make their voices heard. It is time to let them in.
Beyond “***Flawless”: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Feminism
Originally published in Broad Recognition on December 23, 2013
As millions of loyal fans across the world downloaded Beyoncé’s latest album, many listeners may have been surprised to find the dulcet tones of acclaimed Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie interspersed with the trap-inflected beat of “***Flawless.” In the song, Beyoncé samples an excerpt of Adichie’s TEDxEuston talk “We Should All Be Feminists.” The clip addresses how society conditions the aspirations of girls and boys while also offering a straightforward, accessible definition of a feminist: “a person who believes in the economic, socialand political equality of the sexes.” Although “***Flawless” may spark conversations across households over feminist theory, one must hope the conversation does not stop there. I hope that it also opens budding students of culture to the themes of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s novels and short stories, which are far more complex than the Beyoncé soundbite.
Through her books Purple Hibiscus, Half of a Yellow Sun, The Thing Around Your Neck and, most recently, Americanah, Adichie has been catapulted to literary stardom. Her beautifully rendered tales of life in Nigeria and the challenges of immigrant life in the United States have garnered a vast, loyal fanbase. While she may have been hailed as the 21st century daughter of Chinua Achebe, her work has moved beyond the label of “African” or “world” literature because of its embrace of universal themes of the personal and the political. Her near-viral TED talks, “The Danger of The Single Story” and the aforementioned “We Should All Be Feminists”, have complemented these epic tales andpithy short stories by expanding upon the themes that she has addressed in her literary work.
Although these TED talks have likely served as many people’s first introduction to Chimamanda’s particular brand of feminism, they should not be the last. Her novels mesh her theories with reality — they explore the realms of femininity and masculinity through the lenses of the every(wo)man while quietly challenging the notion that feminism is un-African. The mainstream feminist agenda has neglected the storiesand challenges of black women, immigrant and African women for too long. Because Adichie occupies all these spaces, she brings fresh perspectives to their stories by juxtaposing vulnerability with empowerment in her female characters. In societies and social settings in which these women are often perceived to be oppressed, she makes powerful statements about female agency. Adichie creates worlds in which women can take ownership of their sexual desires – in which they are neither defined by their decisions to embrace or reject it.
Purple Hibiscus explores domestic violence and the role of women in the household in the context of a patriarchal society. The novel tells the story of a young girl named Kambili who, along with her mother andbrother, lives in fear of her father Eugene. As the head of the household, Eugene emotionally and physically abuses his wife and children while he is regarded as a hero by the outside world due to his dedication to human rights and illustrious business career. Adichie contrasts the demeanor of Kambili’s mother Beatrice, a quiet, submissive women, with her aunt Ifeoma, who confronts Eugene’s tyranny. The novel examines the ways in which Nigerian women negotiate the domestic sphere in the post-colonial era. Through the lenses of Ifeoma, it confronts the idea of misogynistic traditions and asserts that gender ideals can evolve in tandem with tradition.
Adichie’s second novel Half of a Yellow Sun tells the story of two fiercely, independent sisters navigating their relationships in the midst of war and shows the evolution of the modern Nigerian woman. She contrasts the modern, highly-educated and independent Nigerian women who confront the horrors of war with village women who have been subjugated and merely exist to be the tools of men. Cast against the background of the Biafran War, the novel beautifully illustrates how the fight for independence affected citizens at the national, communityand individual level. The theme of independence and of crafting one’s own definition of womanhood, outside of manhood, features prominently throughout the book. As Aunty Ifeka says during the novel, “You must never behave as if your life belongs to a man…. your life belongs to you and you alone.”
Similarly, The Thing Around Your Neck, a collection of some of Adichie’s best short stories, paints myriad pictures of African womanhood. In “Imitation”, the protagonist Nkem, the beautiful, kept wife of a wealthy Nigerian businessmen struggles to fit the picture of domesticity her husband desires and with how to confront her husband’s infidelity. In “Cell One”, Adichie touches on the differential treatment between girls and boys that she later expanded on in her TEDxEuston talk. The collection of 12 tales stretch from Nigeria to the United States
Adichie’s latest novel Americanah, which has dominated the end-of-the-year “best book” lists, introduces a protagonist named Ifemelu. Despite being an epic romance between two lovers, the story is far from a Cinderella story, and Ifemelu is no simpering fairy tale heroine. The novel negotiates how girls become women through the lenses of the black, African and immigrant experiences. Out of all of Adichie’s novels, it perhaps embraces feminism most blatantly while also offering sharp insights on race relations in the United States through excerpts from Ifemelu’s blog. Ifemelu is no shrinking violet: she is bold, she is brash and outspoken. Through her blog posts on race and her commentary on her romantic relationships, we see a woman active and contributive, vocal through various means. Ifemelu is a heroine precisely because she vocalizing the thoughts that women often keep silent. Through Ifemelu, Adichie offers a powerful commentary on romantic relationships that champions partnership over ownership.
If “***Flawless was a sample of Adichie’s feminism and her TED talks an appetizer, her novels and short stories must be the main course. In each exquisitely written volume, Adichie renders powerful, inspiring, but flawed female characters and invites the reader to accompany them on a journey of self-discovery. In exploring the lives of these characters, she invites the reader to develop their own definition of feminism organically in the comfort of richly imagined settings that stretch from Nsukka to London to even, in her latest novel, New Haven.