Future of History Volume VII

AN UNDERGRADUTE JOURNAL - Volume VII - 2012

THE

FUTUREOF HISTORY

THE

FUTUREOF HISTORY

An AnnuAl PublicAtion of undergrAduAte HistoricAl scHolArsHiP At tHe

university of toronto

© coPyrigHt 2012issn 1916-5765

2011-2012 Volume VII

IntroductIon All to often, undergraduates can feel their work to be more of a personal burden than opportunity for self-expression and critical analysis. Certainly this is the impression one gets from scanning the ceaseless repeti-tion of complaints on Facebook during essay season. And while many students nonetheless manage to lum-ber through these academic hurdles, some manage to more fully engage with historical issues and debates, producing work of great interest both to themselves and the community at large.

The goal of this year’s edition of The Future of His-tory was to publish works that we felt involved students going above the often-tedious requirements of their courses, works that showcased the greatest creativity and originality of the undergraduate history commu-nity. It’s my hope that, beyond recognizing the personal achievement of this year’s published authors, we can show that historical writing and thinking can actually be an enjoyable experience and not simply a puddle to jump across en route to a Bachelor Degree. As we should all remember from childhood, actually splashing around these puddles can be highly rewarding!

Of course, none of this would be possible without our editors, layout designers, publishers and financial supporters! I’d like to wish next year’s Journal, led by the very capable Peter Pangarov and Marie Schoppen. Best of luck!

Staff & credIts

It would not have been possible to publish this year’s edition of the Future of History without the generous contributions of:

The Department of History in the University of Toronto, History Students’ Association, Arts & Science Student’s Union, the Facultry of Arts & Science in the University of Toronto, University College, Trinity College in the University of Toronto, Victoria University in the University of Toronto

General edItors:bruce-lockHArt, kAte

cArney, vincent

giAncolA, AdAm

kelly, cHristoPHer

mcQuAde, JosePH

PAngArov, Peter tomov

Pollitt, Will

seidel, Jennifer

dA silvA, kyle

ZitA-bennet, AdriAn

managIng edItor:HoWell, emily

layout and desIgn:lobAnets-scHoPPen, mArie sergiyivnA

PrIntIng:coAcH House Press

guIdelInes for future

submIssIonsWish to be recognized for your undergraduate achievements? The “Future of History” journal

may just be the answer!

- The “Future of History” journal is a publication of historical scholarship; we consider submissions from all geographic and thematic areas of history with-out preference.

- Essays from other disciplines (ex. Political Science)may be considered.

- All submissions must be addressed to the official “Future of History” email, [email protected], before the third week of Janurary, 2013. - Up to two essay submissions per individual will be considered.

table of contentstHe indiAn mutiny As A vAlidAtion of emPire in tHe britisH imAginAtion by JosePH mcQuAde............................................................6

guevArA And cubA’s commitment to internAtionAlism in 1964: An AnAlysis of cHe’s sPeecH At tHe un generAl Assembly by lAurA coreeA ocHA....................................................12

Women’s informAl Work in coloniAl nAirobi: tHe gendered out-mAneuvering of WHite coloniAl PoWer by sArAH Hedges-cHou...........................................................18

Zero Hour: tHe democrAtisAtion of germAny, 1945-1949 by robert boissonneAult..........................................................25

History After mAss Atrocity: tHe icty And Post-WAr HistoricAl construction in bosniA & HerZegovinA by Will Pollitt.........................................................................33

the IndIan mutIny as a ValIdatIon of emPIre In the

brItIsh ImagInatIon by JosePH mcQuAde

The Indian Mutiny that broke out in May of 1857 caught the British com-pletely by surprise, spreading rapidly throughout northern India and soon becoming the largest colonial uprising of the nineteenth century. This event brought India to the forefront of British public attention and raised important and uncomfortable questions about the nature and meaning of empire. While perhaps not as homogenous as it has sometimes been portrayed, the British response to this crisis was fairly uniform in its desire to find explanations for this uprising which would not imperil, but would rather strengthen, percep-tions of empire as a civilizing mission whose necessity could not be doubted. Through an analysis of memoirs, newspaper articles, and sermons written during this period, it becomes clear that the general British public sought to find in the Indian Mutiny a justification for, rather than a condemnation of, the basic imperial assumptions of their time. This is demonstrated through the three main elements of the Mutiny which were most frequently empha-sized in public discourse; the horrific brutalities inflicted on British women and children, the inherently depraved nature of Indian society and religion, and the justified nature of the retribution inflicted on the people of India by British soldiers. These elements became the focal point for British narratives about the Mutiny of 1857 and as such, they demonstrate the British desire to inter-pret this uprising as a validation of the necessity of imperial rule in India. The Indian Mutiny was the product of fear and anger on the part of many of the people of northern India, who justifiably saw British attempts at reform throughout the mid-nineteenth century as attempts to impose West-ern culture and Christianity upon them. While in its early years the East India Company had actively discouraged missionary activity in its territories, this attitude began to soften after legislation in 1813 allowed missionaries to trav-el freely throughout India. Throughout the 1830s and 1840s, Evangelical and Utilitarian ideas became prominent in British India, leading to an emphasis on spiritual and cultural reform which sought to improve the perceived moral degradation of Indian society through the introduction of British values and Protestant Christianity1. This was part of a broader sense of superiority which was inextricably linked with British ideas of empire as a heroic mission which brought the benefits of civilization to the far corners of the uncivilized world. Unsurprisingly, the people of India did not see things in quite the same way and when rumours began to circulate among the native sepoys who made 1 Udayon Misra, “Nineteenth Century British Views of India: Crystallisation of Attitudes” Economic and Political Weekly January 1984: 18.

the future of hIstory - 7

up the bulk of the British army in India that the new cartridges were smeared with pig and cow fat (and were thus ritually defiling to both Hindus and Muslims), this prompted a mas-sive uprising. Rebel proclamations throughout this period sought to unite Hindus and Mus-lims against the British along religious lines, such as one purporting to come from Bahadur Shah Zafar II, the Mughal Emperor himself, which stated that the British were attempting to undermine Indian religion through things like widow remarriage, the abolition of sati, and the propagation of Christianity2. As such, while the uprising started among native soldiers and thus became known as a mutiny rather than a rebellion, it quickly spread throughout most of northern India, giving British soldiers the impression that the entire population had risen against them3. The suddenness and the violence of this uprising immediately shook the confidence of the British public who could not understand why the rebels could possibly bear such ha-tred towards them. An article in the Calcutta Review referred to the Mutiny as an electric shock which brought the public out of their apathy towards the empire more broadly and India in particular4. There was an immediate outpouring of interest for any news on India, but this interest was impeded by the difficulty of transmitting information over such a long distance. While the recent invention of the telegraph had revolutionized modern commu-nication and created a desire for immediate and accurate information, there was at least a six week delay from the time any telegram was first sent in India to the time it worked its way through intercontinental relays and arrived in London. As such, the general public in England did not learn about the mutiny of early May until June 26th and did not find out about the retaking of Delhi by British soldiers in September until November 10th. Addition-ally, because telegrams could only transmit short messages containing basic information, people wanting more detailed accounts of events in India were forced to wait the three months it took for mail to come by sea5. This led to a lack of reliable up to date informa-tion in Britain throughout the course of the Mutiny, which in turn allowed the British public to interpret the few facts that they had through the lens of their own preconceived notions of empire and India. The stories that most captured the imagination of the British public were those which told of the brutal atrocities inflicted on British women and children by the Indian rebels. The Bombay Times reported in March of 1858 that the Rani of Jhansi had her helpless prisoners stripped naked to dishonour them and then handed the women over to be raped and tortured while their children were hacked to pieces in front of their eyes6. An account from the Illustrated London Times is even more gruesome, telling of horrific tortures and dismem-berment inflicted on women and children, repeated instances of rape, and even of infants being thrown into the air and caught on the point of rebel bayonets7. In a public speech, 2 Sheshrao B. More, “1857 Jihad “, (New Delhi: Manas Publications, 2009): 365.3 W.F. Mitchell, “Reminiscences of the Great Mutiny 1857-59 “, (New Delhi: Asian Educational Services, 2002): 26.4 Gautam Chakravarty, “The Indian Mutiny and the British Imagination “, (Cambridge: CUP, 2005): 25.5 Don Randall, “Autumn 1857: The Making of the Indian Mutiny,” Victorian Literature and Culture 31 (2003): 4.6 Richard Allen and Harish Trivedi (ed.), “Literature and Nation: Britain and India 1800-1990 “, (London: Routledge, 2000): 227. 7 Ibid, 225-6.

the Earl of Shaftesbury reported that every day women were fleeing to Calcutta “with their ears and noses cut off and their eyes put out”8, a fact that was readily believed by the frenzied and credulous British public despite a complete lack of evidence9. While there is no denying that atrocities were committed against British civilians during the early days of the Mutiny, including the deaths of women and children, there is little evidence of the level of sadistic cruelty ascribed to the rebels by the British press. After the rebellion was finally quelled, British magistrates tasked with prosecuting the sadistic rebels who had tortured and raped British women could find no evidence that any such thing had occurred10, per-haps because raping a foreigner was considered a serious defilement of one’s caste by Indian Hindus and Muslims alike11. In his memoirs W. F. Mitchell, a soldier of the 93rd Sutherland Highlanders, states his conviction that although women were indeed murdered, they were not raped, with the exception of a few young ones who “were forcibly carried off to become Mahommedans”12. Contrary to accounts of being murdered by them, however, a number of women taken prisoner by Indian rebels actually ended up marrying them. One famous example is Mrs. Wheeler, the archetypal feminine hero who was credited with kill-ing first her captor and then herself in British popular accounts, but who in fact married her captor, dying of natural causes in the early twentieth century13. In this way it is clear that popular accounts of the Indian treatment of women and children, while grounded in real-ity, were also heavily biased towards gory sensationalism and the vilification of the rebels. Perhaps the best example of this is the infamous massacre at Cawnpore, which be-came a symbol of Indian depravity and a convenient excuse for British vengeance. At Cawnpore at the beginning of the Mutiny, the British garrison was besieged by the Hindu rebel leader, Nana Sahib of Bithur, who agreed to grant the British safe passage to Alla-habad in exchange for their surrender. The British agreed but as they were embarking on boats provided by Nana Sahib, they heard the sound of a gunshot which the British, includ-ing eyewitness Mowbray Thomson, interpreted as a signal for ambush14 but which may in fact have been no more than an accidental discharge15. The sound prompted the British to fire into the crowd of rebels, which in turn prompted the rebels to return fire, slaughter-ing the majority of the British garrison. There are many conflicting accounts of this event, but the version which became popularized in British popular media was that Nana Sahib lured the garrison out of cover under the auspices of a truce and then murdered them in cold blood. Several contemporaries such as John Lang suggested that it is more likely that the massacre was orchestrated by rebels within Nana Sahib’s force who wanted to ensure his commitment to the Mutiny by making reconciliation with the British impossible. After all,

8 Chakravarty, “The Indian Mutiny “, 37.9 Sashi Bhusan Chaudhuri. “English Historical Writings on the Indian Mutiny 1857-1859 “, (Calcutta: World Press Private Lim ited, 1979): 85.10 Randall, “Autumn 1857,” 6.11 Chakravarty, “The Indian Mutiny “, 40.12 Mitchell, “Reminiscences “, 17.13 Allen and Trivedi (ed.), “Literature and Nation “, 229.14 Pratul Chandra Gupta, “Nana Sahib and the Rising at Cawnpore“, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1963): 108.15 T.A. Heathcote, “ Mutiny and Insurgency in India 1857-1858 “, (Yorkshire: Pen & Sword Military, 2007): 101.


sparing the lives of the soldiers would have given Nana Sahib a much greater chance of avoiding execution if the British proved victorious, a fact that he must have been aware of16. The same can be said of the second massacre at Cawnpore in which the survivors of the first massacre, mostly women and children, were butchered by rebels just two days before British reinforcements arrived. While this event became synonymous with Indian treachery and brutality and earned Nana Sahib his infamous reputation as one of the “greatest enemies of the human race to the end of the world”17 , its portrayal in the British press was somewhat misleading. According to the account of Muhammad Ali Khan, a rebel spy captured by the British, the women at Cawnpore were not raped18 , contrary to popular perceptions and were killed not by Nana Sahib himself, but by other rebels who wanted to ensure that his role in the Mutiny was undeniable. Muhammad Ali Khan even went so far as to claim that Nana Sahib’s own soldiers and personal guard refused to take any part in the butchery, which was instead conducted by a small group of “wretches”19. While this account may appear at first glance to be the product of a rebel trying to down-play his own guilt in the massacre, it is worth noting that this version of events is corrobo-rated by other sources. 20 Considering the disparity between popular perceptions of the Mutiny and the actual events of 1857, it is clear that the goal of these horrific accounts was not simply to narrate the facts of this uprising but rather to narrate the facts in a way that would reinforce Bri-ish ideas about empire and India. As such, by emphasizing the gruesome nature of rebel brutality in events like the Cawnpore massacres, the British sought to reinforce their own im-age of themselves as morally superior to their colonial subjects. While some British sources, such as those referenced above, present a nuanced version of rebel violence, the general public opinion from this period was interested only in the simplistic binary of civilization ver-sus savagery21 , as can be seen in newspaper articles and sermons. Rather than attempt-ing to understand the Mutiny as the product of legitimate grievances by rational agents, public opinion saw it as nothing more than the natural result of the inherent sensuality and depravity of the Indian people22. This is why stories of the sadistic torture and rape of British women were so important to the British narrative, despite the general lack of evidence to substantiate them. By feeding into British stereotypes of Hindu depravity and Muslim sexual appetite, these stories essentially obscure and deny the political aspects of the uprising by transforming the Mutiny into a crime against women and by transforming the rebels them-selves into “sadistic sex criminals”23. In the same way, even the religion of the rebels was portrayed as morally inferior to 16 Gupta, “Nana Sahib “, 117.17 Diane Simmons, “The Narcissism of Empire “, (Sussex: Academic Press, 2007): 12118 Mitchell, “Reminiscences “, 190.19 Ibid, 191.20 Gupta, “Nana Sahib “, 140.21 Chakravarty, “The Indian Mutiny “, 33.22 Simmons, “Narcissism of Empire “, 122.23 Chakravarty, “The Indian Mutiny “, 38.


that of the British, especially in sermons from this period. By keeping the victimized women and children of Cawnpore at the center of their narrative, both sermons and newspapers emphasized the inherent depravity of one or both of the principle Indian religions associ-ated with the Mutiny24. There was some dispute over whether Islam or Hinduism was more to blame for the horrors of 1857, but the British generally seemed to view Hindus as more likely to remain loyal, while Muslims were viewed as almost uniformly treacherous. This is reflected in official policy, which allowed Hindus who fled Delhi during the uprising to return as early as November of 1858, while Muslims were only permitted to return in December of 1860 and this only after being forced to prove their loyalty25. This might be because rebel resistance was often more intense in regions with substantial Muslim influence26 , as well as the fact that in some of these areas such as Rohilkhand, religious tensions between Hindu subjects and their Muslim leaders led Hindus to welcome the return of British rule27. Nonetheless, there were some who disagreed with the characterization of Muslims as the main instiga-tors of revolt, such as W. F. Mitchell who states in his memoirs that the Hindu soldiers were much more to blame for the atrocities of the Mutiny than their Muslim co-conspirators28. In a public sermon, Reverend C. H. Spurgeon is even more explicit in his condemnation of Hinduism, referring to it as “the rankest filth that ever imagination could have conceived.”29 Despite debates over which religion was more to blame, however, it is clear that there was never any doubt in the public mind of the natural inferiority of both Islam and Hinduism, and this led many Evangelicals to argue that the only solution to the Mutiny was to convert all of the heathens to Christianity immediately30. In this way, these kinds of narratives sought to recast the Mutiny as a religious conflict between Christian England and idolatrous India, si-multaneously reaffirming the moral superiority of the British and denying the political nature of this uprising. Having firmly established the depraved and wicked character of the rebels, it was easy for the British to justify the brutality of their own reprisals against the people of India. While public sermons typically called for justice rather than revenge, the Illustrated London News demanded that British soldiers exact a vengeance “unparalleled in the history of retribution”31. This call was answered by a wave of violence that horrified The Times corre-spondent William Russel who gives accounts of captured Muslims being smeared in pig fat and sewn up in pig skins to defile then, before being killed and cremated32. Other atrocities included the mass killings of old men, women and children presumed to have had links to the Mutiny, as well as captured rebels being stuffed alive into cannons and blown apart33. Rather than deny these allegations, Colonel G. B. Malleson stated that such forms of brutal-24 Randall, “Autumn 1857,” 9.25 More, “1857 Jihad “, 445.26 Ibid, 418.27 Ibid, 430.28 Mitchell, “Reminiscences “, 45.29 Randall, “ “Autumn 1857,” 9-10.30 Chaudhuri, “English Historical Writings “, 7931 Randall, “Autumn 1857,” 8.32 Chakravarty, “The Indian Mutiny “, 41.33 Simmons, “The Narcissism of Empire “, 121.



ity were not intentionally cruel, but were rather “resorted to only when it was necessary to strike a terror which should act as a deterrent.”34 In the same way, while W. F. Mitchell ab-horred the level of violence which he and his fellow soldiers perpetrated against the Indian people, he justified British actions by stating that his “only excuse is that we did not begin this war of extermination.”35 This justification must have been important for Mitchell’s belief in the moral rightness of his cause as an eyewitness account which surfaced in St George’s Gazette years after the initial hysteria of the Mutiny had died down revealed that Mitch-ell’s regiment, the 93rd Highlanders, took no prisoners while storming the Secunder Bagh palace and slaughtered everyone inside.36 The sheer magnitude of British reprisals across India prompted the famous Urdu poet Mirza Ghalib to say that “Every grain of dust in Delhi, thirsts for Muslims’ blood.”37 Here Ghalib was referring to the complete leveling of Delhi, the Mutiny’s epicenter and the seat of Mughal power, which the British sought to reduce to the “desolateness of Pompeii”38 as a lasting physical punishment for an entire population thought guilty of treason39. Viewed in comparison to the alleged barbarity of the rebels, however, this violence could be justified as a necessary evil for the reassertion of British rule over the depraved and morally inferior people of India. The way that the Indian Mutiny was portrayed in popular accounts clearly demon-strates that the goal of these accounts was not a reasoned weighing of evidence but was rather the construction of a narrative that justified and validated colonial rule in India. By focusing public attention on exaggerated stories of the rape and torture of British women and children at the hands of Indian rebels, the British sought to reaffirm their own identity as the morally superior nation. These accounts transformed perceptions of the Mutiny, deny-ing the rationality and agency of its actors by casting them as bloodthirsty savages and sexual criminals. In this way, British newspapers and sermons also transformed the Mutiny into a religious war between the civilized morality of Christianity and the inherent depravity of Hinduism and Islam. Through this narrative of British superiority, it was easy to justify the horrifying atrocities which British soldiers committed against the people of India by pre-senting these atrocities as unavoidable and distasteful responses to a brutal and inhuman Mutiny. Through this narrative process, the British re-established their role as the benevolent rulers of India, whose natural moral superiority was necessary to guide the barbaric people of the subcontinent into the light of civilization. As such, the Indian Mutiny taught the British only the lessons that they wanted to learn and provided the narrative framework through which they would understand the relationship between imperial masters and colonial sub-jects for the remainder of the nineteenth century.

34 Allen and Trivedi (ed.), “Literature and Nation “, 232.35 Mitchell, “Reminiscences “, 99.36 Ibid, 227-8.37 More, “1857 Jihad “, 445.38 Chaudhuri, “English Historical Writings “, 75.39 Nayanjot Lahiri, “Commemorating and Remembering 1857: the revolt in Delhi and its afterlife” in World Archaeology 35 (June 2003): 42.

gueVara and cuba’s commItment to InternatIonalIsm In 1964:

an analysIs of che’s sPeech at the un general assembly by lAurA coreeA ocHoA

Ernesto “Che” Guevara has become a ubiquitous symbol of revolu-tionary heroism within popular culture. Although this characterization ob-scures the more paradoxical elements of his legacy, at the height of the Cold War Che was a major figure in the Cuban Revolution and was devoted to the expansion of socialism worldwide. On December 11th, 1964, Guevara represented Cuba in the 19th Session of the UN General Assembly in New York. He delivered a powerful and defiant speech denouncing United States imperialism and championing anti-imperialist campaigns throughout the developing world. As a historical source, Guevara’s speech provides a pen-etrating insight into the nature of Cuban-American relations, Cuba’s position within the Communist camp, and Che’s aspirations. This essay argues that although Guevara’s speech remains embedded within the Cold War’s ideo-logical dichotomy, it also reveals Che’s and Cuba’s growing commitment towards an independent foreign policy characterized by internationalism. Central to this strategy is Cuba’s allegiance with the Nonaligned Movement and support for anti-imperialist national liberation efforts in the third world. The first part of this analysis evaluates the purpose of the speech, the signifi-cance of the medium and implicit historiographical limitations. The second section evaluates the nature of Cuba’s independent policy and its relation-ship to the Soviet Union and the United States. The last segment explores the various manifestations of Cuba and Guevara’s internationalist commit-ments. Before analyzing the speech it is important to contextualize it within the major political developments of this period. From 1953-1959, Fidel Cas-tro and Guevara led a revolution that culminated in the overthrow of the American- backed regime of Batista and the establishment of the only so-cialist government in the western hemisphere1. The subsequent failure of the Bay of Pigs invasion to overthrow Communism2, lead Cuba to intensify military ties with the USSR and welcome the placement of nuclear missiles in the island3. However, the imminent threat of nuclear war prompted both states to negotiate a deal, requiring the USSR to remove all weapons from Cuban territory4. The Cuban Missile Crisis drastically altered both powers for-1 William R. Keylor, “A World of Nations. The International Order Since 1945“ (New York, 2009): 195..2 Ibid,, 198..3 Ibid,, 199.4 Ibid,, 203.

eign policy towards Cuba. While the USSR became committed to “peaceful coexistence”5, the U.S led an international campaign to impose an economic and diplomatic blockade against Cuba; this campaign included the majority of OAS states6. By 1964 Guevara and Castro were still consolidating the revolution at home under growing international hostility, forcing Cuba to questions its position and role within the international system. In a defiant and compelling tone that carries throughout the speech, Guevara pro-claims what Cuba’s position and objectives are by attending the General Assembly. He declares that Cuba’s goal is to “build socialism” and “fight imperialism” as a member of the Non-Aligned Movement7. By identifying itself as a Non-Aligned country instead as mem-bers of the Soviet bloc and by extending support to anti-imperialist efforts, Guevara reveals the character of Cuba’s desired foreign policy8. However, Che’s articulation of this vision is deliberately equivocal throughout the speech, highlighting its interpretive limitations. As a delegate Guevara is expressing Cuba’s -implicitly Castro’s- interests as well as his own. Al-though both are committed Marxists, Cuba is a post-colonial and underdeveloped coun-try, trying to establish its legitimacy in a coercive bipolar system. Guevara on the other hand is an idealistic revolutionary, with few national attachments and a long history of insurgency in Latin America9. Given these dual identities, one must be careful when assert-ing whose interests are being communicated. The medium itself also presents some com-plications. Guevara is aware of the symbolic multilateral character of the UN10. The speech is intended to capture the attention of the international community to generate solidarity amongst the developing world by publicly condemning Western imperialism and great power politics. However, given his agenda and communist identity, Che’s speech tends to overemphasize American imperialist actions, while understating Soviet aggression in the third world. Cuba’s commitment to an autonomous foreign policy reflects its delicate position within the international system. Guevara expresses Cuba’s allegiance to the Communist bloc by demanding the legitimate recognition of the PRC and East Germany by the Gen-eral Assembly11. However, Che challenges Soviet foreign policy, asserting that “as Marx-ists...peaceful coexistence among nations does not encompass coexistence between the exploiters and the exploited”12. This reveals a major cleavage in Cuban-Soviet relations.

5 Peaceful Coexistence refers to Soviet principle that argued that socialist countries could peacefully coexist with the capitalist world, with the goal of preventing nuclear war. It was first articulated by Khrushchev in 1956 and became predominant in the 1960’s.6 Keylor, 204.7 Ernesto Che Guevara, “Cuba’s Example Shows that the People of the World Can Liberate Themselves (11 December 1964), In To Speak the Truth” Why Washington’s Cold War Against Cuba Doesn’t End, Ed Mary-Alice Waters“, (New York: Pathdinder, 1992): 135.8 Cuba joined the Movement of Non-Aligned Countries in 1961. Although the movement is economic and politically heteroge neous bound by a common colonial and imperial past. It affirmed its commitment to the struggle against imperialism, for eign aggression and great power politics. Waters, Mary-Alice Ed. To Speak the Truth: Why Washington’s Cold War Against Cuba Doesn’t End (New York: Pathdinder, 1992): 24.9 Gordon, H. McCormick, “Che Guevara: The Legacy of a Revolutionary Man”, World Policy Journal 14 (1997-1998): 73.10 Guevara, “Cuba’s Example “, 124.11 Ibid,, 131-132.12 Ibid .,127.


After the Cuban Missile Crisis (known as the Caribbean Crisis in the USSR), Guevara and Castro felt the USSR had betrayed Cuba by acquiescing to American demands. Che in particular believed the Soviet Union had lost its revolutionary zeal and was not a true cham-pion of the third world13. Although Che insists Cuba has “no chains binding it to anyone” and “no proconsuls directing its policy”, his vacillating criticisms of Soviet policy illustrate Cuban limitations as a developing country14. To Guevara’s displeasure, Castro was forced to increase economic ties with Soviet Russia15. Some historians have argued that differ-ences over Soviet influence on Cuba ruptured their relationship, yet the fact Guevara is chosen to represent the island at the UN, indicates Castro still supported Guevara’s aspira-tions. Soviet Coexistence proved to be incompatible with Cuban national interests as it left them exposed to further American intervention, leading Cuba to envision a different social-ist model. Furthermore, Guevara maintains that there cannot be peaceful coexistence with the U.S, as it is the “perpetrator of exploitation and oppression against the peoples of the world”16. Although he declares support for “complete disarmament”, Guevara makes it clear that Cuba would not “adhere to any regional pact for denuclearization” until the U.S removes all military basis from Latin America17. Just as in the Missile Crisis Guevara reiter-ates that persistent territorial violations justify armed confrontation. Che further demands the removal of all economic sanctions imposed by U.S in all parts of the world, the termi-nation of all military encroachments and violations to Cuba’s sovereignty18. Although his combative tone reflects his deep antagonism towards the U.S, the fact he is advocating an autonomous political path, illustrates Cuba’s growing preoccupation with the survival of the revolution at home, under growing international isolation. It is also significant to note how Guevara carefully frames the conflict as a global struggle against imperialism, de-emphasizing Marxist-Leninist connotations. By doing this his speech can appeal to a wider audience without alienating Non-Aligned members. Due to Soviet unreliability and American interventionism, Cuba turns to the develop-ing world and Non-Aligned countries to establish a new foreign policy. Guevara astutely frames Cuban internationalism around the “burning” problem of peaceful coexistence19. He asserts that “American Imperialism has” made “peaceful coexistence... the exclusive right of the earth’s great powers”20. Guevara is correct to point out that American-Sovi-et coexistence only promoted their own interests and security. The Cold War played out through proxy-wars in the developing world, undermining their nationalist aspirations and autonomy. One can then argue that by staying within Soviet lexicon Guevara attempts to reconfigure the definition of peaceful coexistence by integrating it with the objectives

13 John Lee Anderson, “Che Guevara: A Revolutionary Life “ (New York: 1997): 613.14 Guevara, Cuba’s Example“, 140.15 Anderson, Che, Guevara 116.16 Guevara, “Cuba’s Example“, 139.17 Ibid, 130.18 Ibid, 135-136.19 Ibid., 125.20 Ibid, 126.


of the Non-Aligned movement -enforcing territorial integrity and resisting foreign aggres-sion- without publicly alienating the super powers21. Simultaneously, legitimize antagonist towards the U.S as a global anti-imperialist struggle. Although Cuba’s reorientation of its international relations is partly a defensive strategy, Guevara assets that Cuba’s exam-ple shows the world how people can liberate themselves from imperialism22. This suggests Cuba wants to take a leadership role within the Non-Aligned movement, and likely shape its course with its embryonic socialist model. After evaluating the roots and characteristics of Cuba’s independent foreign policy, one can access the various manifestations of Guevara’s and Cuba’s commitment to in-ternationalism. One of their initiatives is to export Cuban socialism by championing anti-imperialist causes in the third world. Guevara passionately proclaims that “the final hour of colonialism has struck” for the people “of Africa, Asia and Latin America”23. Throughout the speech he declares Cuba’s unconditional support to recently established countries and “to all peoples in conflict with imperialism”24. He proudly alludes to the existence of Marxist-inspired insurgencies in Guatemala, Colombia and Venezuela25. Although Guevara does not mention it in the speech, his appearance at the U.N is part of a long trip around Africa, where he would attempt to establish anti-colonial guerrillas26. This suggests that Che is not appealing to anti-imperialist sentiments simply as an oratorical instrument to generate inter-national support. His willingness to abandon his position in the island to promote socialism abroad further indicates he is a devoted revolutionary, with tremendous faith in the libera-tion of the postcolonial world through socialism27. Furthermore, Guevara and Cuba are particularly committed to the defeat of U.S imperialism in Latin America and the creation of a unified socialist continent. Che reas-sures the audience that Cuba’s “concern for Latin America is based” on their common identity, and with the sole purpose of liberating the continent from “the U.S colonial yoke”. In his efforts he appeals to a common linguistic and historical past characterized by colo-nial domination28. However, Guevara avoids inflammatory Marxist-Leninist language once again, suggesting he is concerned with the receptibility of Latin Americans predominant agricultural and religious public. Che also dismisses “hatred against” Cuba’s revolution to Latin America’s ruling classes and to American manipulation of OAS29. Guevara ends the speech echoing Castro’s Second Havana Declaration, where he prophetically announces the imminent “march” of all Latin Americans to “conquer true independence”30. Che’s

21 Waters, Mary-Alice Ed. To Speak the Truth: Why Washington’s Cold War Against Cuba Doesn’t End (New York: Pathdinder, 1992): 24.22 Guevara, “Cuba’s Example“, 124.23 Ibid, 123.24 Guevara, “Cuba’s Example“, 129.25 Ibid., 140.26 Anderson, “Che Guevara“, 619.27 Guevara’ commitment to the revolution in Latin America ends when he gets assassinated by the CIA while establishing a guer rilla base in Bolivia on October 9, 1967. Anderson, Che Guevara, 739.28 Guevara, “Cuba’s Example“, 138.29 Ibid, 137.30 Ibid, 140-141.


assertions of an awakening continental revolution are an idealistic overstatement, consid-ering Latin America’s opposition to the Cuba’s government and close allegiance to the Western bloc. Nonetheless, the fact the U.S was constantly interfering in Latin America’s af-fairs suggests, the Capitalist giant felt threatened by Cuba’s model of communism. Moreover, Guevara’s commitment to internationalism is also evident in his unprec-edented faith in the United Nations. Despite his militant convictions, Che recognizes the potential of the U.N as a medium for international cooperation. From the beginning of the speech he tells the audience that Cuba “would like to see this Assembly shake itself out of complacency and move forward”31. Although alluding to the inefficacy of the institution due to great power rivalry, it is important to note that Guevara undertones USSR’s intransi-gency within the UN. Throughout the speech Che appeals to UN principles of self-determi-nation and non-intervention, to legitimize Cuba’s and the Non-Aligned Movement’s plat-form against imperialism and foreign intervention32. Nevertheless, Che is highly critical of the UN’s structure and Western driven manipulations. Guevara is particularly vocal about the abuses taking place in the Congo, where he maintains that the UN is being used as an imperialist instrument to preserve Belgian interests33. When criticizing the “brutal policy of Apartheid” in South Africa, in an almost incredulous tone Guevara asks, “Can the United Nations do nothing to stop this?”34 Guevara’s criticism once again highlight the limited voice the developing and post-colonial world had within the UN and the international sys-tem. He later proclaims that there will be a time “when this Assembly will acquire greater maturity”35, and emphasizes the majority of the UN is composed by peoples of the devel-oping world36. One can then argue that Guevara’s sees Cuba -and implicitly himself- as the representatives of the third world and all those who suffer under all forms of exploitation and domination. Not only does he want Cuba to take a more active role within the Non-Aligned Movement to spread socialism abroad, but Che also seems to hope the body can one day dominate the General Assembly and protect the rights and aspirations of the de-veloping post-colonial world. Through evaluating Che’s discourse at the General Assembly this essay has illustrated Guevara’s and Cuba’s determination to establish an independent foreign policy in a hos-tile bi-polar system. Central to Cuba’s international relations is the principle of peaceful coexistence, which Guevara redefines as the basis to fight imperialism and great power aggression by promoting cooperation with the third world and Non-Aligned Movement. Cuba’s decision to pursue an autonomous course was motivated by the urgent need to protect its national interests and also by Guevara’s and Castro’s deep ideological com-mitment to the propagation of their anti-imperialist socialist model worldwide. Their com-mitment to internationalism is evident in their sponsorship of anti-colonial and nationalist

31 Guevara, “Cuba’s Example“, 124.32 Ibid, 134.33 Ibid, 128-129.34 Ibid, 127.35 Guevara, “Cuba’s Example“, 129.36 Ibid, 129.


insurgencies worldwide; the attempted unification of Latin America through a continental revolution; and belief in the potential of the UN as an empowering and legitimizing force for the rights third world. Nevertheless, Guevara’s inability to publicly antagonize the Soviet Union reflects the limitations of exercising an independent course for a small and develop-ing country within the bi-polar structure of the Cold War. Che’s powerful and uncompromis-ing criticisms of the United States, also effectively captures the many double standards and contradictions of the Western world. For better or for worst Guevara’s aspirations for Cuban leadership in the Non-Aligned movement and as a representative of the struggles of the third world in the UN did not materialize. Although not a hero, Che Guevara’s passionate and unwavering faith in the liberation of the developing post-colonial world does reveal a complex figure with a captivating and intriguing revolutionary spirit.


Women’s Informal Work In colonIal naIrobI:

the gendered out-maneuVerIng of WhIte colonIal PoWer

by sArAH Hedges-cHou

An important aspect of colonial rule in Africa was the rapid urban-ization that took place under the colonial administration and their export focused agenda. Colonial urbanization was a deeply flawed system; it was racist at its base, and this manifested itself in highly segregated urban planning in Nairobi. The colonial government preached policies and laws that proved to be extremely detrimental to city development, especially for rural to urban African migrants, and particularly for women. Regard-less, the Kenyan women learned to cope, and even excel in these urban conditions. Whether through prostitution or hawking fruits and vegetables, women made do, and were even able to go so far as to challenge and resist the colonial power through their work in the informal sector. This essay will contend that the predominantly women-led informal sector in Nairobi is a unique development that occurred because of colonial miscalculations, and the gendered, racialized and classed urbanization of Nairobi. The informal sector not only formed an important source of capital accumu-lation, but a location of resistance to gendered and colonial oppression. This social and economic phenomenon was possible because of colonial urban policies including racialized segregation, strict housing policies, and the colonial administration’s failure to meet the basic needs of its residents. Created as a British colonial city in 1899, Nairobi started out mod-estly, as a settlement area for white settlers and male migrant workers. Nairobi’s urbanization, similarly to other colonial urban centres, was not based in industrialization like most European cities, and this set the city up for mass poverty and unemployment.1 Most men looking for waged la-bour – essential with the advent of capitalism – worked on the railway line, on which Nairobi was located. Otherwise, work was very scarce. The co-lonial administration saw no problem with this as their aim was to create a residential and administrative city for European and Asian (mostly Indian) settlers2. The colonial government did not want or intend for Africans to settle in Nairobi, and the urban planning and colonial policies were reflec-tive of that. As people from Kenya and neighbouring regions moved from their rural homes to the new urban centre, they found many impediments

1 Winnie Mitullah, “Hawking as a Survival Strategy for the Urban Poor in Nairobi: The Case of Women,” Environment & Urbanization 3:2 (October 1991): 16.2 Fatima Alikhan, “Urbanization in the Third World, an African Experience “, (Hyderabad: Booklinks Cor-poration, 1987): 153.

to their settlement in Nairobi. The most obvious obstruction to African rural to urban migrants in Nairobi was the clearly discriminatory sectioning and segregation of the city according to race and class. The best land was given to white settlers, on the highlands, whereas Africans were only al-lowed to reside outside of the downtown core, and on lower marshier ground designated as African-only “native reserves.”3 In between, acting almost as a buffer zone, were the Indians and Asians, usually lower colonial administrators with middle incomes, and consid-ered above the Africans in terms of hierarchy. These three clear separate areas, marked by race and class were thus formed and mostly enforced through the colonial period. Justification for this spatial segregation was the argument of “health and hygiene.” Colonial officials claimed that Africans were an “inherently unhygienic race” and there-fore had to be geographically located far enough from European residents so as to dis-courage the spread of disease.4 This idea became the impetus for all colonial policies of spatial separation between ethnic groups, but besides an early struggle with the bu-bonic plague in 1902, there were no substantial health scares. Ambe J. Njoh, in his book Planning Power: Town Planning and Social Control in Colonial Africa, points out the pres-sure exerted by the European settlers on the colonial government to enforce racialized residential segregation laws, and argues that “health” concerns were used simply as a means to ensure urban privileges for white settlers.5 The racialization of space to this extent is quite specific of East Africa and British colonial rule. Besides the objective of segregation of races, these spatial policies played another important role in reaffirming colonial power and control over African people. The special segregation of Nairobi gave the colonial government the ability to control both residential and social spaces, limiting personal and collective freedoms. Urban historian Garth Andrew Myers sees this process of segregation and control as the “geographical manifestation of British colonialism.”6 The urban structure of Nairobi is evidence of the colonial government’s marginalization of colonial subjects according to race and class, expressed through demarcated physical space. In further enacting control over the colonized, the colonial administration also intro-duced strict policies and government control over public property and housing. Housing units were built by the government and rented to workers. In their interest of maintaining a residential and administrative city for European settlers, the housing built for Africans was created to suit single men in barrack-like units.7 It was the hope and belief of the colo-nial government that migrant workers would come to the city alone to work, leaving their families at home on rural farms, where they would return once they were done. In fact, in order to discourage African migrants from settling in Nairobi, for a period in the early 3 Garth Andrew Myers, “Verandahs of Power: Colonialism and Space in Urban Africa “, (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2003): 4.4 Ambe J. Njoh, “Planning Power: Town Planning and Social Control in Colonial Africa “, (London: UCL Press, 2007): 170.5 Ibid., 1716 Myers, “Verandahs of Power “, xii.7 Claire Robertson, “Comparative Advantage: Women in Trade in Accra, Ghana and Nairobi, Kenya,” in African Market Women and Economic Power, ed. Bessie House-Midamba and Felix K. Ekechi, (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1995): 113.


1900’s, only temporary residency was granted.8 The colonial administration did not want a large-scale influx of African families into their strictly enforced colonial city, and it did not want permanent migrants. In limiting the space and building allowances, the govern-ment ensured that housing was always scarce and overpriced, making urban living ex-pensive and often unattainable to Africans. What was available for African residents were run down shantytowns with very high population densities, especially in comparison to the European resident suburbs.9 The gendered aspect of Nairobi’s urbanization is closely related to the issue of hous-ing. As a result of government limitations on housing and residency permits, in the early colonial period, women did not move to urban centres at a rate as fast as men. Illegal housing was common, but colonial enforcement of residential laws was very strict, and illegal housing was often torn down.10 Beyond housing concerns, low employment and the absence of job opportunities was the other drawback for rural to urban female migra-tion. Without an industrial base, employment opportunities were already low for men, and therefore were even lower for women. But in the colonial capital of Kenya, capitalism was in full force, and waged labour was absolutely essential, thus sparking the creation of Nairobi’s large and vibrant informal sector –where women were able to create a unique location for economic and social progress. A tradition that started in early 20th century Nairobi and continues today, the in-formal sector is made up of various occupations and is mainly dominated by women. Though it consists of casual and self regulated work, it enabled women to generate in-come that was crucial for their survival in the urban environment of the colonial capital. The main sources of income included the selling of food and goods at the market, and prostitution. These livelihoods, although “informal” formed the basis of an extremely impor-tant social and economic trend that empowered women and challenged the colonial system. “Market women” were comprised of a large number of women in Kenya’s capital that found their livelihoods in the hawking of fruits and vegetables and other goods at the many markets that filled the city. A common pre-colonial activity, hawking grew even more with the onset of colonialism and the need for waged labour, especially in Nairo-bi.11 Filling in where the formal sector fell short, hawkers were able to sell their perishables and live off of their profits. Claire Robertson, in her essay comparing women in trade in Accra and Nairobi, states that women in urban Kenya often became fruit and vegetable hawkers out of issues of landlessness and increasing levels of divorce.12 Although women began to work in markets out of necessity, it increasingly came to be seen as a viable employment choice, and even as an attractive aspect of urban life in that it would allow women a source of income independent of men. This newfound economic autonomy

8 Njoh, “Planning Power“, 70.9 R. A. Obudho, Urbanization in Kenya, (Lanham: University Press of America, 1983): 41.10 Robertson, “Comparative Advantage “, 113.11 Mitullah, “Hawking as a Survival Strategy “, 15.12 Robertson, “Comparative Advantage”, 114.


was most often used to acquire land, seen as the greatest symbol of security in Nairobi where rent prices ran so high.13 Echoing the strict oppression of the colonial government in regards to the racial-ization and segregation of city space, this authoritative governance was also present in the informal sphere in trying to stifle these non-government approved transactions. Through the creation of “legal” markets and “vendor licenses”, the colonial government attempted to exact control over the growing market operations.14 But despite the risks of police harassment, fines, and the confiscation of goods, most women could not afford the licenses and chose to continue as market women despite the stringent rules. When the alternative was abject poverty, the draw of income and autonomy through the role of “market woman” was the clear choice. Although the hawking of fruits and vegetables and the work of “market women” was (and remains) such an important economic activity of the informal sector, prostitu-tion provided the sturdiest level of economic independence and most forcefully chal-lenged colonial oppression. It is prostitution that provides the best example of how wom-en were able to excel in the oppressive colonial urban centre, even undermining male power and colonial control. Prostitution, as a staple source of money among women in Nairobi, has been the subject of many studies and theories about the history and impli-cations of the growing informal sector. Emerging out of the initial demand for women in the early years of Nairobi’s establishment, prostitution gained popularity amongst male migrants living without their families. Colonial policies and granted residency rules created a grossly unequal gender ratio in favour of men of a working age.15 The policies as well as the inadequate supply of available housing led to a long lasting gender disparity that even in 1962 boasted 40 females per 100 males.16 These imbalances allowed for the initial success of prostitution in the colonial capital. Luise White, in her studies of prostitution in colonial Nairobi, makes a very important clarification in prefacing her research. White approaches prostitution simply as a form of economic activity, or as a “capitalist social relationship”, similar to the role of a wife in a home.17 Rather than moralizing sex work and looking at it as right or wrong, she looks at it as a market activity that arose out of a very specific colonial context. In saying this, White is also placing the women who take part in sex work in Nairobi as free agents, opposed to victims not in control of their lives and actions. As McClintock says, “The history of prostitu-tion is not a litany of victims.”18 These women were revolutionaries as well as just regular people trying to get by in a complicated city, and to victimize them would be an act of disrespect. This perspective is helpful in analyzing the economics of prostitution, and in understanding why so many girls and women chose prostitution as their source of income

13 Ibid., 115.14 Mitullah, “Hawking as a Survival Strategy “, 16.15 Alikhan, “Urbanization in the Third World“, 157.16 Ibid., 159.17 Luise White, “The Comforts of Home: Prostitution in Colonial Nairobi “, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990): 11.18 Anne McClintock, “The Scandal of Whorearchy,” Transition Magazine 52 (1991): 94.


in Nairobi. The popularity of prostitution and the growing number of women and girls tak-ing part in sex work in Nairobi was influenced by many elements related to colonial rule. Around the turn of the century many changes were occurring in Kenyan society. Colonial rule was accompanied by capitalism and the demand for waged labour as well as the declining quantitative wealth of many families. Under British colonial rule, many traditional practices of the area were drastically and often coercively transformed. The introduction of capitalism by the British caused great confusion as non-capitalist ideas of livestock and bridewealth that measured the value of a woman’s reproductive labour were suddenly assigned value, and a low one at that.19 Some daughters looking to use waged labour to support their families fad-ing wealth often migrated to Nairobi where they took up prostitution. Using their profits, they would send home money to support their family or buy cattle with, to subsidize their father’s wealth.20 This practice allowed women not to marry, while still supporting their family who depended on bridewealth. And as pimps did not yet exist in Africa outside of Johannesburg at this time, women were in complete control of their earnings.21 By skillfully navigating the societal changes under colonialism, these women were able to gain more self-determination. The daughter would be able to live autonomously in the city, support her family, as well as accumulate wealth to buy property of her own. Property and homeownership was a central aspect of prostitution. Seen as form of security and insurance in old age, prostitutes in Nairobi focused intensely on the acquisi-tion of property. Homeownership was highly coveted, especially as it meant rooms could be rented out for a steady source of income. This led to high levels of female home own-ership and female landlords in African residential areas of Nairobi. In Janet M. Bujra’s article “Women ‘Entrepreneurs’ of Early Nairobi”, the author discusses the many motivations that caused women to become prostitutes. One of these was the low incentive for marriage, and the unwillingness of women to stay in rural Kenya labouring and farming for their husband’s profit. Accordingly, one of the prostitutes in Bujra’s case study replied that indeed “My house is my husband!” in that it would supply her with the care and security she would need in the future.22 Home ownership by wom-en surged from the 1920’s onwards, with 42% of homes in Pangani district being owned by women in 1932, and 41% of homes in the African designated Pumwani district being owned by women in 1943.23 After such tight colonial control over property ownership and housing, women now had a monopoly over African residential housing, becoming land-lords and sometimes even buying multiple properties. Ironically, in providing rentals for migrant workers, women were in fact replacing the role of the state, which refused to pro-

19 White, “The Comforts of Home”, 38.20 McClintock, “The Scandal of Whorearchy” , 96.21 White, “The Comforts of Home “, 6.22 Janet M. Bujra, “Women ‘Entrepreneurs’ of Early Nairobi,” in Readings in Gender in Africa, ed. Andrea Cornwall, (London: The International African Institute, 2005): 127.23 Ibid., 130.


vide adequate housing.24 Despite the best attempts of the British at spatially segregating people according to race and class, many women were able to prosper through prostitu-tion and create a new class, or what Bujra calls, the “urban African petty bourgeoisie.”25 With women as homeowners came the new problem of the disrupted kinship sys-tem. Without children, a woman’s home and wealth would fall into the hands of the colo-nial government –which was clearly not a popular outcome. To rectify the situation, new practices were once again introduced, with the beginning of the female centered family and the passing on of land through female lineages. Female heirs, often younger prosti-tutes or close friends were named, keeping the wealth among the women.26 Woman-to-woman marriages even occurred under customary law, and they also ensured female inheritance.27 These efforts to ensure the passing of property from one woman to another is evidence of the important role of gender, and a reminder of the solidarity felt between prostitutes in Nairobi in fighting gender, race and class oppression during the British colo-nial period. White views colonial control over urban space as a method used to control urban Africans through their social and sexual relations.28 With the emergence and growing trend of women deciding to work as prostitutes, this control was disputed. Women were able to control their own relations and their own profits, creating an economic niche for themselves and often for women they chose to help and work with. Not only were these women able to break out of the colonial administrations close rule over urban residents, they were also able to challenge the innately gendered nature of colonial rule. The area of prostitution, like the hawking of fruits and vegetables, was also subject-ed to intense efforts to curb such practices. The colonial government did not object to the practice of prostitution morally as they knew that it could not be controlled, and such a stance would be futile. The government did however recognize the larger socio-eco-nomic implications of urban prostitution, and it was in this area that it was seen as unac-ceptable. McClintock, who describes the success and autonomy of Nairobi prostitutes as the “Whorearchy” articulates the frustration of the colonial government best:

In Kenya, as elsewhere, the state objected less to prostitution itself than to the women's accumulation of money and houses. In a world where colonials sought constantly to control the lives of Africans through housing, marriage, and migrant labour, prostitutes' ownin property and passing on the values of community, self- respect, and gender loyalty was a constant affront to the white male management of power.29 This response to the resistance and success of prostitutes in colonial Nairobi shows the carefully calculated nature of colonial rule. The policies enacted and the laws up-held were not just about racism, “health,” or convenience, they were specific strategies 24 White, “The Comforts of Home “, 222.25 Bujra, “Women ‘Entrepreneurs”, 131.26 McClintock, “The Scandal of Whorearchy”, 96.27 Bujra, “Women ‘Entrepreneurs“, 130.28 Ibid., 46.29 McClintock, “The Scandal of Whorearchy “, 98.


to marginalize and exert power over the local African people. By challenging this white male power through their ingenious manipulation of the colonial system, the “Whore-archy” was able to out-maneuver the oppressive colonial government and succeed in gaining socio-economic autonomy. Ironically, the colonial government provided many of the enabling conditions of this successful prostitution sector, such as the unequal ratio of men to women, and thus the higher demand for female services. These services were not purely sexual in nature; as migrant workers, the men often just wanted a nice meal and someone to talk to and with whom to enjoy “the comforts of home.”30 Respond-ing to market demands, women would provide this, but at a cost. In providing such ser-vices, women were finally being paid for the labour that would have gone unrewarded in a traditional marriage. This was the beginning of the commodification of reproductive labour. Further, as another challenge to the colonial racialization of space, the prostitutes were known to commonly have white customers who treated the African women with the utmost respect and who paid them generously (according to a higher cost set by the women).31 The colonial segregation and hierarchy of power disappeared in these “illegal” relations, and white men lost what power they otherwise would have had over African women; instead she would hold the power. The prostitute could refuse or accept the customer, name the price, demand respect, and control what occurred, essentially reversing the regular power relations. In a later study, male and female perceptions of urban life were compared. The results reflect the influence of these groups (market women and prostitutes) in carving out a place for urban women. Whereas men increasingly viewed the city as a place of “dis-order” and “immorality”, women saw it as a location of opportunity to escape the taxing traditional rural lifestyle, and as a way to increase one’s socio-economic status.32 Whether intentional or not, the growth of the informal sector through “market wom-en” and prostitutes deeply challenged the colonial government’s control over the African population in Nairobi. Working within the oppressive spatially segregated city, these wom-en were able to create unique socio-economic niches for themselves, using their new income to buy land and improve the position of women in urban Kenyan culture. These paths of survival had many positive repercussions, which included their own empower-ment, more favourable gender status and opportunities for women, as well as a powerful and unexpected source of resistance to colonial rule. In the unique environment of colo-nial Nairobi, the complicated conditions of the city all worked in unplanned synchronicity to create this socio-economic phenomenon.

30 White, “The Comforts of Home “, 221.31 McClintock, “The Scandal of Whorearchy “, 99.32 Njoh, “Planning Power“, 169.


Zero hour: the democratIsatIon of

germany, 1945-1949

In Germany, the moment at which the war in Europe ended—at midnight on 8 May 1945—is known as die Stunde null— Zero Hour. At that moment, it is said, history ended and began anew.1 Clearly, history did not end that day, but something did. VE-Day was the conclusion of the “German saga” of Western history. The unification of the German states in 1871 upset the balance of power in Europe, and the question of Ger-many’s place in the world—Is there a place for a strong, unified Germany in the international order? —would not be resolved until 1945.2 Before then, however, Germany would experience authoritarian monarchy, liberal yet fatally flawed democracy and, finally, totalitarianism on an unprecedent-ed scale. Today, though, Germany is a stable liberal democracy, free of the dysfunction that contributed to the fall of the Weimar Republic. What changed? Clearly, Zero Hour was a turning point in German history, but that alone is not an explanation. In order to understand what happened, one must first understand the totality of the German defeat. The Allied as-sault did not spare the German civilian population; the strategic bombing campaign of 1942-1945 targeted civilian as well as military infrastructure. Then, the Allied occupation of 1945-1949 was a case of debellatio, the complete dissolution (and, in the case of Germany, partition) of a state.3 Finally, the two converged in Nuremberg to strip away what remained of Nazism’s moral and political legitimacy. In February 2009, Canadian historian Randall Hansen argued in the National Post that the Allied area bombing of German cities, which was ordered in February 1942 and would continue until the end of the war, constituted a war crime4. Hansen’s accusation was not new: from 1949 onward, the Soviet Union condemned the February 1945 bombing of Dres-den, which had the misfortune of being in the Soviet zone of occupation, as an act of “Anglo-American terror.”5 While it might be difficult to recon-cile the unrestrained bombing of civilian areas with the modern law of war,

1 Thacker, Toby. “The End of the Third Reich: Defeat, Denazification and Nuremberg, January 1944 - No-vember 1946 “, (Stroud: Tempus Publishing Limited, 2006): 14.2 Spielvogel, Jackson J. “Western Civilization “. 7th Edition. (Belmont: Thomas Wadsworth, 2009): 673-678.3 Benvenisti, Eyal. “The International Law of Occupation “, (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993): 93.4 Hansen, Randall. “Randall Hansen: Bombing Germany was a war crime.” The National Post, February 14, 2009.5 MacDonogh, Giles. “After the Reich: From the Liberation of Vienna to the Berlin Airlift “, (London: John Murray Publishers, 2007): 536

by robert boissonneAult

it is nonetheless important that the Allied rationale for taking such a course of action be understood. The American president, Franklin Roosevelt, remarked at the Casablanca conference in January 1943 “the elimination of German, Japanese and Italian war power means the unconditional surrender by Germany, Japan and Italy.” His goal was “the destruction of the philosophies in [the Axis powers] which are based on the conquest and the subjugation of other peoples.”6 The demand for unconditional surrender became Al-lied policy, and would be reiterated at subsequent conferences in Moscow in November 1943, in Quebec City in September 1944 and in Yalta in February 1945. The message was clear: this time, there would be no armistice. The war had been transformed. It was no longer a war between states; it was a war between ideologies, and only the total defeat of the Axis powers would satisfy the Allied victory condition. Only the total destruction of fascism’s political and moral legitimacy would suffice. Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Harris, head of the Royal Air Force’s Bomber Command, remarked in July 1943 that “the Nazis entered this war under the rather childish delusion that they were going to bomb everybody else, and that nobody was going to bomb them.”7 Then, the appropriately named Operation Gomorrah began. From 24 July to 30 July 1943, the Royal Air Force and the United States Air Force bombed the city-state of Hamburg continuously. On the night of 27 July, the result was a firestorm—a tornado of fire—that killed 40,000 people and displaced a further 800,000.8 The ambiguously worded Casablanca directive, ordering the RAF and the US Air Force to target German morale (interpreted by Harris to mean “civilians”), was approved by the Allied high command in January 1943. Seven months later, Hamburg burned. The same fate would befall the city of Dresden in February 1945, and Berlin—site of the first battle of the Cold War—was similarly devastated from November 1943 onward.9 The bombing of Dresden, now a cause célèbre of the German far right and neo-Nazis everywhere, was significant even at the time. The city, known as “the Florence of the Elbe,” while a cultural capital, had little strategic value. Nonetheless, it suffered the same fate as industrial Hamburg, firestorm and all. Even British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, who had been calling for the bomb-ing of Germany’s backwater east since January (the Allied bombing campaign had hitherto been limited to the western cities of Berlin, Cologne, Dortmund and Essen), dis-tanced himself from Dresden. Harris, for one, did not waver: when asked by John Colville, the prime minister’s thirty-year-old aide, to explain what had happened in Dresden, he responded: “Dresden? There is no such place as Dresden.”10 The bombing of German civilians—the Germans called it “terror bombing” (bombenterror), and it was claimed at the time that as many as 250,000 had died in Dresden alone11 —was in line with the Allied 6 Thackery, “The End of the Third Reich”, 15-16.7 Underwood, Lamar, ed. “The Quotable Soldier “ (Guilford: Lyons Press, 2000): 15.8 Shirer, William L. “The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich: A History of Nazi Germany “, (New York: Simon & Schuster Paper backs 1960): 1008-1009.9 Churchill, Winston S. “The Second World War. Vol. V: Closing the Ring “, (New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1948-1953): 458.10 Thackery, “The End of the Third Reich”, 77-85.11 Hansen, Randall. “Randall Hansen: Bombing Germany was a war crime.” The National Post, February 14, 2009.


policy of total war, followed by total defeat. This is made clear by the following memoran-dum, written by Harris to the British government in October 1943:

It should be emphasized that the destruction of houses, public utilities, transport and lives; the creation of a refugee problem on an unprecedented scale; and the breakdown of morale both at home and at the battle fronts by fear of extended and intensified bombing, are accepted and intended aims of our bombing policy. They are not by-prod ucts of attempts to hit factories.12

Roosevelt’s call for unconditional surrender was inspired by American history: dur-ing the Civil War, a little-known one-star general named Ulysses Grant made the same demand of his Confederate counterpart, Brigadier General Simon Buckner, at the Battle of Fort Donelson in February 1862.13 Similarly, Europe’s history, specifically the conduct of the First World War, weighed heavily on the decision of the Allied leadership to bring the war to the German people. The First World War had been fought entirely outside of Ger-many. The Russian withdrawal in March 1918 brought the war in the east to a close, and the German leadership chose to make peace with the Allies before they crossed Ger-many’s western border. The German people had thus been spared the worst of modern warfare.14 This was a problem, and the Allies knew it. Germany did not expect to lose the First World War. And yet, in September 1918, the emperor, William II, was informed by his high command that defeat was inevitable. In public, however, the government continued to insist that total victory was imminent. It is therefore unsurprising that the armistice of 11 November came as a shock to the German people, who believed until the very end that greatness was within Germany’s grasp.15 How to explain such a sudden reversal of fortune? Betrayal. Field Marshal Paul von Hin-denburg, commander of the German Army, claimed that the German war effort had been undermined by a secret, demagogic campaign. In his memoirs (written in exile), the emperor wrote that the army had been the victim of a Bolshevik Dolchstoss (“dagger-stab”). The myth—and it was a myth—of the great betrayal thus became known as the Dolchstosslegende. The myth took hold, and the public refused to accept that Germany had been defeated in battle. Instead, they attributed Germany’s defeat to a conspiracy of communists, socialists and, most importantly, Jews. General Erich Ludendorff, Hinden-burg’s deputy, predicted that the public would also refuse to accept the legitimacy of the Weimar Republic, proclaimed in November 1918. It was a representative of the re-public who signed the hated armistice on 11 November. The military played no part in it. The republic was similarly blamed for the Treaty of Versailles, seen as the ultimate be-trayal of the German nation.16 The liberal democratic Weimar Republic failed because it lacked legitimacy. The German people did not accept it. They did not accept the legiti-macy of Germany’s defeat; how could they accept the legitimacy of the traitor regime 12 Hansen, Randall. “Beyond dispute.” The Ottawa Citizen, August 30, 2007.13 Thackery, “The End of the Third Reich”, 15.14 Evans, Richard J. “The Coming of the Third Reich “, (New York: The Penguin Press, 2004): 51-58.15 Ibid., 58.16 Ibid., 60-66.


that followed it? Forcing Germany to accept defeat, to accept liberal democracy and to accept a place in the existing international order would require unprecedented force. None of this was lost on the Allies. The “big picture,” however, was the responsibility not of the military but of the European Advisory Commission (EAC), established in October 1943 by the foreign ministers of Britain, the Soviet Union and the United States to prepare for the eventuality of the Axis surrender.17 In order to avoid a repeat of the Dolchstossle-gende, of which the commission was well aware, it stressed the need for a military sur-render as well as a civilian one.18 The absence of a representative of the military from the armistice signing ceremony in November 1918—a deliberate calculation on the part of Erich Ludendorff19 —had lent legitimacy to the claim that the great German Army, pride of the nation, had never been defeated.20 The commission also recommended the complete dissolution of not only the Wehrmacht but also the German state. German sovereignty, such as it was in May 1945, would be transferred to the Allied Control Coun-cil for the duration of the occupation. Thus, on 7 May 1945, General Alfred Jodl of the Wehrmacht high command arrived at the United States Army’s headquarters in Rheims, France to negotiate Germany’s surrender. But, as Jodl would soon discover, there would be no negotiations. Jodl had hoped that he would be able to surrender to Britain and the United States but not to the Soviet Union, buying the German Army time to retreat west-ward in a desperate attempt to avoid capture by the infamously merciless Red Army.21 He was ignored; the Allied high command, in the person of General of the Army Dwight Eisenhower, insisted upon unconditional surrender, threatening to close the entire Western front to German refugees if Jodl did not sign immediately. He obliged. The total defeat of the German military had been achieved.22 Hitler committed suicide on 30 April 1945. In his will, he appointed a president, Grand Admiral Karl Dönitz, and a chancellor, Joseph Goebbels. The latter committed suicide himself the following day leaving Dönitz as head of state and de facto head of government. From the town of Flensburg on the Baltic Sea, Dönitz ordered the surrender of 7 May. Thus ended the Third Reich.23 But there was a problem. The European Advisory Commission had prepared an instrument of surrender that provided for the capitulation and dissolution of both the government and the military.24 However, this instrument of surrender was not used.25 For this reason, the Flensburg government continued to exist, and Dönitz remained de jure head of state, although he had relinquished all power to the Allied Control Council. Still, the existence of a Nazi rump state, even one that existed only 17 Thackery, “The End of the Third Reich”, 6.18 Ziemke, Earl F. “The U.S. Army in the Occupation Germany, 1944-1946 “, (Washington: United States Army Center of Military History, 1990): 109.19 Evans, “The Coming of the Third Reich”, 61.20 Ibid., 66-69.21 Thackery, “The End of the Third Reich”, 132-133.22 Shirer, William L. “The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich: A History of Nazi Germany “ (New York: Simon & Schuster Paper backs, 1960): 1138-1139.23 MacDonogh, “After the Reich”, 68.24 Ziemke, “The U.S. Army in the Occupation Germany”, 109-114.25 Ibid., 257-258.


on paper, troubled the Allies. In order for denazification and, by extension, democratisa-tion to be successful, the Nazi “mantle” had to be destroyed. There could be no legal successor to the Third Reich, not even in theory. For this reason, the EAC prepared a sec-ond legal instrument, commonly known as the Berlin Declaration. It read:

The Governments of the United States of America, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics and the United Kingdom, and the Provisional Government of the French Republic, hereby assume supreme authority with respect to Germany, including all the powers possessed by the German Government, the High Command and any state, municipal, or local govern ment or authority.26

This was, in effect, the transference of sovereignty from what had hitherto been the Greater German Reich to the Allied Control Council. “Germany” had ceased to exist as a sovereign state. On 23 May, Dönitz and his cabinet were arrested.27 The declaration went into effect on 5 June.28 The technical term for the dissolution of a state as a result of war is debellatio.29 It was the most extraordinary of measures; what Churchill called a “Carthag-inian peace.”30 There was no salting of the earth, but the totality of the defeat was the same. The EAC had intended for the Allied Control Council to govern all of Germany from its seat in Berlin, but it was not to be. The relationship between the Western Allies and the Soviet Union had begun to deteriorate even before the end of the war, and by the winter of 1945-1946 there were no “Allies” to speak of.31 The process of democratisation, then, occurred only in the west. Democratisation could not have occurred without the delegitimisation of Nazism. From 20 November 1945 to 1 October 1946, twenty-two of the Third Reich’s most senior leaders stood trial in Nuremberg, the birthplace of the Nazi Party. Summary execution, the expected course of action, would have been much easier—and faster—than a yearlong trial, so what was the Allied rationale for Nuremberg? It was, in effect, a moral one. With the discovery of the concentration in camps in the spring of 1945, it became apparent that fascism was incompatible with civilisation. This fact had to be made clear, not just to the German people but also to the entire world. The work of the International Military Tribunal established that the Nazis had forfeited their humanity and, in doing so, led Ger-many to ruin. The German people understood this. They understood that fascism was a criminal ideology.32 William Shirer, an American journalist who had lived in Germany from 1934 to 1940, wrote of the Nuremberg defendants: There had been quite a metamorphosis. Attired in rather shabby clothes, slumped in their seats fidgeting nervously, they no longer resembled the arrogant leaders of old. They seemed to be a drab assortment of mediocrities. It seemed difficult to grasp that such 26 Ibid., 262-263.27 MacDonogh, “After the Reich”, 71.28 Ziemke, “The U.S. Army in the Occupation Germany”, 256.29 Benvenisti, “The International Law of Occupation”, 92.30 MacDonogh, “After the Reich”, 8.31 MacDonogh, “After the Reich”, 497.32 Ibid., 546.


men, when last you had seen them, wielded such monstrous power, that such as they could conquer a great nation and most of Europe.33

Nazism had been destroyed, and democratisation could begin. In July 1945, General Lucius Clay, deputy military governor of the American zone of occupation, observed, “there is no evidence of an attempt to organise a Nazi underground.”34 This was telling: the Nazis had ceased to exist, and no one seemed to care. Throughout Germany, Nazis were arrested. In their absence, ad hoc “anti-fascist committees” consisting of trade unionists and Catholic and Protestant clergy maintained order. These self-styled “antifas” are significant for two reasons. The first is that they began the process of denazification—removing swastikas and other Nazi symbols—entirely of their own volition.35 This speaks to the totality of Allied victory, and of the German defeat. The opposition was able not only reassert itself but to target Nazism directly without en-countering any opposition from the general, formerly Nazi-enthralled public. The second reason is that the antifas offered a glimpse into the future of German politics. Trade union-ists and Christian clergy. The Social Democrats and the Christian Democrats. The Allies soon dissolved the antifas, but their existence, however brief, was an early indicator of the success of the denazification and democratisation processes. In heavily bombed Cologne, one of the largest occupied cities, the American administration appointed as mayor Konrad Adenauer, a respected conservative with a record of opposition to the Nazi regime. Adenauer quickly established a friendly rapport with his American superiors and would go on to serve as West Germany’s first chancel-lor.36 The “Adenauer method” of elevating known anti-Nazis to positions of authority was replicated throughout Allied-occupied Germany (referring here to the American, British and French zones of occupation).37 It was critical to the success of denazification. The Nazi Party itself was formally dissolved and banned on 20 September, along sixty-two af-filiated organisations, from the Schutzstaffel to the Hitler Youth.38 The Allied ban on politi-cal activity was then lifted, allowing the reborn Social Democratic Party (SPD) and the Adenauer-founded Christian Democratic Union (CDU) to operate freely from September onward (from December onward in the French zone).39 Local elections were held the in the Soviet zone in September. They were, of course, neither free nor fair: the Socialist Unity Party (SED), a Soviet-backed coalition of the Communist Party and eastern Social Democrats, won 57.1 per cent of the vote. Otto Grotewohl, leader of the SPD in the Soviet zone, proposed that the SPD formally join the SED. The Soviet administration, keen on a united left (so much easier to dominate), concurred.40 This was a decisive moment in the

33 Shirer, “The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich”, 1142.34 Thackery, “The End of the Third Reich”, 141.35 Ibid., 143.36 Thackery, “The End of the Third Reich”, 144-145.37 MacDonogh, “After the Reich”, 107.38 Thackery, “The End of the Third Reich”, 154-155.39 Ibid., 229.40 MacDonogh, “After the Reich”, 106.


democratisation process. The radical, undemocratic right had been completely delegiti-mised, not just politically but morally as well. But what of the radical, undemocratic left? Kurt Schumacher, leader of the SPD in the western zones, angrily denounced Grotewohl’s proposal, furious at the subordination of social democracy to communism. In a March 1946 party referendum, 82.2 per cent of Social Democrats voted against union.41 The Allies must have been relieved. The German people had not only rejected fascism; they had accepted—embraced, even—liberal democracy.42 They could have gone from one totalitarian ideology to another, but they did not, much to the disappointment of the So-viet Union. If the Allies had left the Nazi state—a state whose sole purpose was genocide43 —intact, it might have been otherwise. The state and the ideology (by the end, the two were indistinguishable) were destroyed first by violence. It was the unrestrained carnage of the Allied assault that shook the foundation upon which the Nazi leviathan stood. What remained was dealt a deathblow by the Berlin Declaration. The Allied occupation of Germany came to an end on 23 May 1949, four years to the day after the dissolution of the Flensburg government.44 The occasion was the ratifi-cation of the Basic Law of the Federal Republic of Germany, or Grundgesetz, by the state of Bavaria, the last state to do so. The Basic Law was, and is, stronger than the Weimar Constitution, which Hitler had unceremoniously disposed of in 1934.45 A strong constitu-tion, in which the dignity of man is declared to be inviolable, is an important legacy of the Allied occupation. Its promulgation set the stage for the grand finale of the Allied exercise in democratisation and state building: the federal election of 14 August 1949, the first free and fair election at the national level since 6 November 1932. This, too, was a success. The Christian Democrats won a plurality in the new Bundestag, and Konrad Adenauer be-came chancellor, governing in coalition the Free Democratic Party (FDP), a liberal party founded the previous year. The British Foreign Office expressed concern that the mildly nationalist German Party had won thirteen per cent of the vote in Hamburg, but nothing ever came of it.46 So it worked. Denazification worked. Democratisation worked. It took Germany (referring here to the Federal Republic of Germany) only four years to transition from Nazi totalitarianism to Western liberal democracy. Why? The brutality of the war was a factor. I do not propose to establish moral equivalency between the actions of Germany and the Allied powers, but it cannot be denied that the suffering of the German people was profound, so profound that totalitarianism became irreconcilable with civilisation, with humanity. The second factor was one of morality and, by extension, of legitimacy. At Nuremberg, the absolute immorality of the Nazi regime was exposed for all of humanity to 41 Roberts, Geoffrey K. “Party Politics in the New Germany “, (London: Pinter, 1997): 28.42 MacDonogh, “After the Reich”, 546.43 Barenbaum, Michael. The World Must Know. (Washington: United States Holocaust Museum, 2006): 109.44 Busch, Andreas. “The Grundgesetz after 50 Years: Analysing Changes in the German Constitution.” (German Politics, 2000): 41.45 Fear, Jeffrey. “German Capitalism.” In Creating Modern Capitalism: How Entrepreneurs, Companies and Countries Tri umphed in Three Industrial Revolutions, edited by Thomas K. McGraw. (Boston: Harvard University Press, 1997): 171.46 Thackery, “The End of the Third Reich”, 229.


see. From this moral high ground, the Allies proceeded to liquidate completely all that re-mained of Nazism. It was into this environment of moral righteousness that liberal democ-racy was introduced, and took root. It was a time for rebirth and renewal. In the winter of 1946, German novelist Alfred Döblin wrote of the German people:

They are not depressed by the destruction; they see it rather as in intense spur to work. I am convinced that, if they had the means they lack, they would rejoice tomorrow that all their outmoded, badly laid-out conurbations had been knocked flat, giving them the opportu nity to build something first-class and wholly contemporary.47

When the clock struck zero, history ended. And began anew.

47 MacDonogh, “After the Reich”, 546.


hIstory after mass atrocIty:the Icty and Post-War hIstorIcal constructIon In bosnIa & herZegoVIna

“Memory is distortion since memory is invariably and inevitably selective. A way of seeing is a way of not seeing, a way of remembering is a way of forgetting, too.” -Michael Schudson1

As the above quote suggests, the politics of historical construction are inherently zero sum. To use Using a contemporary example, memorials of indicted war criminals such as Ratko Mladic simultaneously create the memory of Mladic as a defender of Serbs while omitting his role in massacres such as Srebrenica. Warhauser Freedman logically sensibly then argues that-argues, “whenWhen one side’s heroes are considered another side’s war criminals, a unitary telling of history that is inoffensive to all groups will neces-sarily be incomplete.”2 While this use and misuse of history is in most cases of only theoretical importance, reconciliation efforts in Bosnia & and Herze-govina (BiH) serve to give the topic practical implications. Originating out of competing narratives of nationality and historical suffering, the Bosnian War pitted former neighbours and coworkers against each other on the basis of nationalityin a vicious conflict. Nearly two decades later, these communities have not formed a universal historical narrative of wartime atrocities, relying on exclusionary or nationalistic historical interpretations. for political legiti-macy. As described by youth activists during recent fieldwork in Sarajevo, “truth” in BiH remains plural and mutually incompatible. As a result, politics in BiH remain extremely fragmented and confrontational, with only one con-stitutional amendment relating to the Brcko District’s administration passing in the country’s history, harming both everyday governance and Sarajevo’s goal of EU integration. With the International Military Tribunal’s commissioning after the Sec-ond World War and Germany’s genocidal campaign against Jews, Roma and others, legal trials assumed a primary position in efforts to bring about reconciliation after mass atrocities. As formalized in transitional justice litera-ture, these trials individualize guilt onto those directly responsible, thereby freeing whole communities from retributionthese trials furtherpromote rec-

1 Mark Osiel, “Mass Atrocity, Collective Memory, and the Law “, (New Brunswick, Transaction Publishers, 1997): 83.2 Freedman, Warshauer, et al., “Public education and social reconstruction in Bosnia and Herzegovina and Croatia.” In My Neighbor, My Enemy: Justice and Community in the Aftermath of Mass Atrocity, by Eric Stover and Harvey Weinstein, eds., (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2004): 244.

by Will Pollitt

onciliation by individualizing guilt, thereby deflating collective responsibility and allowing memory to be constructed along factual lines as opposed to competing group claims.. To this end, theIndeed, UNSC Resolution 808 that authorized the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY)’s mandate specifically invokes “individual responsibility” for grave violations of human rights.3 In practice, this has often involved jurists taking on the role historian to establish a universal truth or at least, to paraphrase Ignatieff, to limit “per-missible lies.”4 The purpose of this essay will be to determine the ICTY’s success in producing a compelling historical narrative capable of overcoming Bosnia’s plural narratives. Commentators such as Mark Osiel or Charles Maier have generally been supportive of the ability of of legal trials ’ ability to overcome the inherent differences between history and justice, arguing that otherwise both justice and history will be written by “prejudiced or triumphalist voices,” yet conceding “prevailing opinion” holds that the merger of justice and history is “likely to produce poor justice or poor history, probably both.”5 Christopher Browning, referring to the IMT’s role in popularizing misleading intentionalist interpretations of the Holocaust, havehas echoed this later concern, while Hannah Arendt quite famously criticized lead prosecutor Gideon Hausner’s attempts to transform the Eichmann Trial into a “national-historic production.” A second challenge has emerged in the popularization of-form of victim centric Ttruth and Rreconciliation Commissions (TRCs), which initiatives which seeking to “democratize truth” free of the legalistic blinders and bureaucratic tediousness of trialscraft an inclusive narrative of conflicts free of legalistic blinders.6 Surveys typically suggest the ICTY’s role in promoting reconciliation to be “problematic.”7 By first consider-ing the ICTY’s theoretical underpinnings and then considering its concrete impacts in BiH, this paper will argue that the Tribunal has largely failed in constructing robust narrative of the wWar, thereby hampering reconciliation efforts. Finally, alternatives to confrontational trials will be evaluated.

Theory of the ICTY – Argentinian legalLegal philosopher Carlos Nino argued argues that “the public pre-sentation of the truth is much more dramatic when done through a trial” pitting prosecu-tion and defence against each other.8 The ICTY was intended to exploit this drama and create what Mark Osiel termed terms a “cathartic theater” in which festering memories of the recent may conflict may be reconciled,”9 through which the former Yugoslavia comes to terms with its violent disintegration.. Through this theater, society would no longer be 3 Charter, ICTY, http://www.icty.org/x/file/Legal%20Library/Statute/statute_sept09_en.pdf.4 Johanna Mannergren Selimovic, “ Perpetrators and victims: Local responses to the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia .” Focaal, no. 57 (2010): 50-61.5 Osiel, “Mass Atrocity”, 79.6 Michael Humphrey, “From Victim to Victimhood: Truth Commissions and Trials as Rituals of Political Transition and Individu al Healing.” The Australian Journal of Anthropology, 14, no. 2 (2003): 171-187.7 Miklos Biro, Dean Ajdukovic, Dino Corkalo, Petar Milin and Harvey Weinstein, “Attitudes Towards Justice and Social Recon struction in Bosnia and Herzegovina and Croatia,” in My Neighbor, My Enemy: Justice and Community in the Aftermath and Mass Atrocity, 183-206. (Cambridge,: Cambridge University Press, 2004): 200.8 Osiel, “Mass Atrocity”, 14.9 Ibid., 15.


polarized between “aggressors” and “victims,” categorizations that in the context of the Bosnian War obstruct as much as they illuminate, in favour of individual judgements. The explicitly dramatic terms in which Osiel frames such trials however ignores both the over-whelming tediousness of modern legal proceedings, particularly at the international level, and the flaws implicit in expecting lawyers and judges to stage manage the complex emo-tional exercises necessary for reconciliation. During his trial, Slobodan Milosevic entered into a charged debate with Croat politi-cian Stepjan Mesic over all manner of historical details,seemingly irrelevant topics such as the views of the 19th century Croatian author Ante Starcevic, on Yugoslav nationalism, much to the presiding judge’s dismay.10 While trivial and at first glance harmless, this de-bate encapsulates the role of conflicting historical narratives in perpetuating regional tur-moil. Mesic viewed Starcevic as a nationalist against Hapsburg dominance while, Milosevic characterized him as a direct inspiration for the intensely repressive Ustasa and thus respon-sible for the genocidal repression of Serbs during the Second World War. The disintegration of YugoslaviaBosnia’s war would become characterized by nationalist politicians wielding this form of acerbic pseudo-historye cudgel of history; whether Sonja Karadzic’s attribution of Srebrenica to the WW2 World War II-era Jasenovac concentration camp or the exploita-tion of the semi-mythical Prince Lazar, history became a tool to establish the victimhood of one national group as a means to claim contemporary political power.11 The most odious and direct example of this remains Ratko Mladic’s invocation of the failed 1808-1813First Serbian Uprising uprising against the Ottomans shortly before taking “revenge” on Srebren-ica’s civilian population, which neatly demonstrating demonstrated such the recurring his-torical manipulations as Serb victimhood and the confusion elision of Bosnians and Turks.12 This constant reference to history eventually forced then ICTY Prosecutor Carla Del Ponte to commission an exhaustive academic study on Serbian Nationalism, a clear recognition of the court’s inevitable merger with history.13 Given precedents to the ICTY however, one should have been sceptical of such a body’s ability to craft a compelling and historically accurate narrative.Historical prec-edents, however, should have cautioned against hopes the ICTY would truly form a “ca-thartic theater.” Far from dramatic portrayals such as 1961’s Judgement at Midnight, the Nuremberg trials were widely viewed as distant and boring. Journalists covering the IMT trials found “an excruciatingly long and complex trial that failed to mesmerize a distracted world.”14 Hannah Arendt was similarly uncaptivated by the intensely stage-managed Eich-mann trial, seen as a tedious platform for Israeli PM Prime Minister Ben-Gurion to promote his vision of Israel. Indeed, this boredom with the ICTY is visible in BiH. Until 2002, nearly a decade after the Court’s founding, no Bosnian newspaper maintained a permanent corre-10 Dejan Djokic. “Coming to Terms with the Past: Former Yugoslavia.” History Today 54, no. 6 (2004): 17-19.11 Nick Hawton, “Conflicting Truths: The Bosnian War,” History Today 59, no. 8 (2009).12 Duijzings, Ger, “Commemorating Srebrenica: Histories of Violence and the Politics of Memory in Eastern Bosnia.” In The New Bosnian Mosaic: Identities, Memories and Moral Claims in a Post-War Society, Xavier Bougarel, Elissa Helms and Ger Duijz ings (eds.) (Aldershot, Ashgate Publishing House, 2007): 142. 13 Djokic. “Coming to Terms with the Past”, 17-19.14 Osiel, “Mass Atrocity,” 91.


spondent at The Hague.15 Amongst Bosnian Muslimsks, despite powerful demands for more indictments, trials themselves attract only modest attention, while injustices felt from the war are frequently overlapped and subsumed by contemporary injustices, such as lack of employment and endemic corruption.16 While one cannot blame the ICTY for focusing on legal and political concerns over the dramatic, this should caution against attempts to use institutions such as the ICTY as a “cathartic theatre” for mass society. a venue for historical debate. For tribunals to facilitate reconciliation then two conditions must be met; not only must the tribunal, through the presentation of evidence, create a sufficiently unchallenge-able narrative, but it most do so in a manner which facilitates public involvement and interest in the underlying debate. Documentation and evidence presented at The Hague would then be of limited value were it to barely reach Bosnia. This remains the largest ob-stacle to tribunals successfully providing the cathartic reliefstage Osiel calls for, and as we shall see the ICTY has proven similarly challenged at both promoting the reconciliation paradigm in Bosnia and implanting its findings into public discourse in the country. Impact of ICTY. In practice, the ICTY has largely failed to foster a universal historical narrative in Bos-nia. While the Tribunal has produced great volumes of evidence and brought a degree of closure through actions such as mass grave exhumation and reuniting families with the re-mains of loved ones, its record on outreach to the community and promoting its findings is less impressive.17 While views towards the ICTY vary from community to community, it is the case that few see the institution as particularly effective vehicle for fostering reconciliation. It is not altogether surprising that shortly after the conviction of Radislav Krstic, whose trial saw copious documentation of the Srebrenica massacre and recognized it as “genocide,” the government of the Republika Srpska government would issue a report claiming only some two thousand people were killed during the massacre, roughly a quarter of its well documented death toll, indicating a strong disregard for ICTY findings.18 Srebrenica remains a focal point of this continuing historical debatefissure; to Bos-niac’s Bosnian Muslims the massacre is essentialized viewed as the proof of Serbian aggres-sion while Bosnian Serbs, often incoherently, dismiss, minimize or relativize the tragedy. This competition for historical memory has found such telling outlets as competitive monument building. In response to the primary memorial to Muslim victims constructed at Potocari, local Serbs constructed monuments to Serbian victims in the nearby villages of Kravica and Zalazje; rather than construct a single monument to the war’s victims each commu-nity opted for exclusionary monuments.19 Calls on the Republic Srpska governmethe gov-15 Isabelle Delpla. “In the Midst of Injustice: The ICTY from the Perspective of some Victim Assosciations” in The New Bosnian Mosaic: Identities, Memories and Moral Claims in a Post-war Society by Xavier Bougarel, Elissa Helms and Ger Duijzings (eds.), (London, Ashgate, 2006): 219.16 Ibid., 224.17 Marita Eastmond, “Reconciliation, reconstruction, and everyday life in war-torn societies,” Focaal, no. 57 (2010): 3-16. 18 Delpla. “In the Midst of Injustice”, 216.19 Duijzings, “Commemorating Srebrenica: Histories of Violence and the Politics of Memory in Eastern Bosnia,” in The New Bos nian Mosaic: Identities, Memories and Moral Claims in a Post-War Society, 141-167, Bougarel, Helms, Duijzings (eds.),


ernment of Republika Srpskant, to recognize the Srebrenica massacre, were meet with counter demands to recognize Serb victims from Sarajevo’s suburbs. While Prime Minister Dodik’s 2002 recognition of the massacre no doubt eased this gap in memory, large dif-ferences surely remain. These differences, according to Jakob Finci, between Serb and Bosnian Muslim narratives of Srebrenica threaten to undermine Bosnia and Herzegovina entirely.20 The recent arrest of Ratko Mladic again illustrates this. While many welcomed the prominent fugitive, others nonetheless painted Mladic as “someone who stood at the helm of the homeland at the most difficult time and defended us from slaughter and expulsion from our age-old homes.”21 This of course parallels the glorification, and to some extent mythologizing, of Radovan Karadzic earlier in the decade.22 Indeed, studies from Mostar & and Prijedor in Bosnia, as well as elsewhere in the for-mer Yugoslavia, have shown that the ICTY tends to reinforce rather than reconcile prior divisions.23 Michael Humphrey explains this counterintuitive result by arguing trials produce “polarizing results, dividing the innocent from the guilty, the blamers from the blamed.”24 Trials, just as with history, are transformed into zero-sum competitions between competing “sides.” Thus, indictments of Serbs have not individualized guilt, but rather reinforce group feelings of victimization. The commonplace view that “the Hague tribunal only sentences Serbs, there issentences Serbs, there are no justice for us [Serbs]” speaks to this reinforcing of group identity.25 Marko Hoare’s arguments that the ICTY under prosecutes Bosnian Serbs notwithstanding26, any split in prosecution split between national groups would inevitably fall into this zero-sum competition between national groups. As a result, the ICTY tribunal has largely failed to foster awareness of wartime atroci-ties outside of nationalist lenses. In surveys of Croatians from Vukovar in Croatia, where Serb militias massacred 263 Croatians, close to 70% of respondents would admit that war crimes were committed by their own nationality. In Mostar, however, where Croatians were ac-cused of several war crimes against Bosnian Muslimss, the willingness of Croatians to admit members of their nationality committed war crimes dropped to 54.7%. Similarly, fully half of Serbs from the town of Prijedor would not accept that war crimes occurred on their behalf. When a popular Croatian talk show, Latinica, broadcast a special program on Croatian war crimes, public opposition and protest was so great the station was forced the station to air an episode documenting Serbian war crimes against Croats in order to “balance” content and mollify public anger.27 (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing House, 2007): 143.20 Ibid., 146.21 Bojana Milovanovic, Bloggers: Mladic, criminal or hero? 2011 йил 27-May. http://www.setimes.com/cocoon/setimes/xhtml/ en_GB/features/setimes/blogreview/2011/05/27/blog-03 (accessed 2011 йил 8th-July).22 Nick Hawton. “Conflicting Truths: The Bosnian War.” History Today 59, no. 8 (2009): 57.23 Selimovic, Johanna Mannergren. “Perpetrators and victims: Local responses to the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia,” Focaal (2010): 50-61.24 Michael Humphrey. “From Victim to Victimhood: Truth Commissions and Trials as Rituals of Political Transition and Indi-vidual Healing,” The Australian Journal of Anthropology (2003): 171-187.25 Selimovic, “Perpetrators and victims”, 50-61.26 Marko Attila Hoare., “Bosnia-Hercegovina and International Justice: Past Failures and Future Solutions,” East European Politics and Societies, (2010): 194.27 Ibid., 196.


The Bosnian Muslim Mayor of Konjic similarly dismissed atrocities committed against Bosnian Serb prisoners at the Celebici Camp as “crazy acts of individuals,” despite three ICTY convictions demonstrating the high level of organization involved in the camp’s oper-ations. When pressed on these details, which in the Bosnian Muslim case challenge the nar-rative of Bosniaks as the war’s victims, one mane responded “because of Celebici; it might happen that the crimes of the victims and the attackers might become equalized ... We were the victims! But because fourteen civilians were tortured and murdered in Celebici; we might become equal to those who attacked us.”28 Relativism, as opposed to balance, is the actual product of this behaviour however. There is a desire within national groups to “have it both ways: to admit the facts while denying full responsibility for them.” Recognizing the Tribunal’s limited impact, the ICTY launched an Outreach Program to inform communities of ongoing cases and the results of prior cases. While not quite an admission of its limited impact on reconciliation efforts, this does suggests the Tribunal rec-ognizes the need make greater contributions to historical debate in the former Yugoslavia, and Bosnia specifically. Thus far, the ICTY has failed to provide a “scholarly and public de-bate” and has contributed little to allowing locals to “come to terms with their most recent and therefore most painful past.”29 In the vacuum, nationalities have adopted exclusion-ary and ahistorical narratives, further undermining reconciliation. In BiH, these narratives un-dermine state legitimacy as the Republikac Srpska’s characterization of the war as by and largeessentially defensive and the Federation’s characterization of the Republikac Srpska as illegitimate and based on genocide are fundamentally irreconcilable. Truth & Reconciliation Commissions: Alternative? A readily cited and increasingly popular alternative to retributive trials has emerged through Truth and Reconciliation Commissions (TRCs). Beginning with Latin American societ-ies recovering from brutal authoritarian regimes and most prominently with post-Apartheid South Africa, TRCs have since developed into the principal alternative to trials. Proposals do exist for a reconciliation commission to be created in the former Yugoslavia, and indeed a side letter to the Dayton Peace Accords recommended such a commission, which Rich-ard Holbrooke felt essential to Bosnian stability.30 Unlike trials, which focus on a didactic exchange between accuser and accused, TRCs take a victim centric approach in which testimonies are heard and woven together into a narrative. While trials also make frequent use of witness testimony, this testimony is only a means to the end of reaching judgement on an accused, while TRCs recognize the victims’ experiences as a goal in and of itself. Accordingly, this is intended to create a more “democratising truth” and better to foster better social consensus.31 Though TRCs suffer from an ability to deliver retributive justice, a concern for many Bosnians who come into daily contact with individuals who persecuted

28 Selimovic, “Perpetrators and Victims”, 50-61.29 Djokic. “Coming to Terms with the Past”, 17-19.30 N. J. Kritz, J. Finci. “A Truth and Reconciliation Commission in Bosnia and Herzegovina: An Idea Whose Time Has Come,” International Law Forum, 3, no. 1 (2001): 50-58.31 Humphrey. “From Victim to Victimhood: Truth Commissions and Trials,” The Australian Journal of Anthropology (2003): 171-187.


them or their family, they nonetheless offer a viable alternative to trials and would better facilitate consensus. In its proposed charter, the Yugoslav TRC notes the “ICTY… does not fully satisfy the victim’s needs for justice and [is] insufficient for the creation of the conditions necessary to achieve lasting peace in the region.”32 Given the ICTY’s previously demonstrated failure to reconcile wartime narratives, it is unsurprising then that first objective listed under the TRC’s Charter is to “establish the face about war crimes and other gross violations of human rights”33 committed throughout the war and to “help political elites and society to accept the facts about war crimes and other gross violations of human rights.” Unfettered by the need to indict and convict, the TRC would focus directly on fostering an inclusive narrative of the war. For victims, the focus on recognition of tragedy could be truly cathartic. Frustrated with the non-recognition of his wartime losses by Bosniakn neighbours, one Serb inmate of the Celebici Camp confessed, “the world will never believe our suffering… the people of Konjic, they pretend it never happened.”34 Yet TRCs are not themselves free from criticism. Retributive justice remains a central demand for those affected by war; as Hannah Arendt argues, people cannot “forgive what they cannot punish.”35 This challenge has been particularly challenging in Bosnia, where victims and victimizers frequently live in proximity to each other. In such “geography of fear” justice takes on the more immediate task of imprisoning those who pose a dan-ger to society. Civil society groups, particularly Bosniakc groups such as the Association of Mothers of Srebrenica and Zepa Enclaves, remain upset at the lack of charges laid in connection with massacres; a hope shared with Serbian victims associations.36 The interna-tional community’s prolonged delay in capturing high profile fugitives such as Ratko Mladic is regularly portrayed within Bosnia as either a farce or proof of conspiracy.Thus, a Truth and Reconciliation Commission would best serve as a complement to, rather than alternative, to traditional criminal procedures such as the ICTY. While the later focuses on bringing those responsible for crimes to justice, a TRC would focus on the “moral guilt” shared by whole communities.37

Conclusion – Neatly summarizing the challenges faced in Bosnian reconciliation efforts, Marko Hoare argues that “the international community has failed to impose a narrative of who was to blame for the war. Consequently, each side continues to see itself as the victim in the conflict and to see the Tribunal’s record purely in terms of how too many of its own

32 The Coalition for RECOM,Proposed RECOM Statute,RECOM Initiative, http://www.zarekom.org/uploads/ documents/2011/04/i_836/f_28/f_1865_en.pdf33 Ibid.34 Selimovic., “Perpetrators and victims,” Focaal (2010): 50-61.35 Ibid.36 Delpla, “In the Midst of Injustice”, 223.37 Kritz. Finci. “A Truth and Reconciliation Commission,” International Law Forum, 3, no. 1 (2001): 50-58.


people have been indicted.”38 It would be unfair to totally dismiss the ICTY’s impact on his-torical reconciliation; many in Bosnia, particularly within the educational community, have come to justify pedagogic historical narrativeschoices with specific reference to ICTY doc-uments.39 Further, in communities where victims and victimizers coexist, ICTY indictments serve to provide a needednecessary sense of justice and security, while body exhumation and reburial efforts provide much needed closure. Belgrade’s official apology last year, even if by a razor thin margin of 127 of 250 legislators, for the Srebrenica massacre marks a further improvement in historical reconciliation which will hopefully trickle to Banja Luka.While the ICTY has made positive contributions to establishing a factual history of the war, this history remains significantly isolated from historical narratives within Bosnia. In part this isolation is a result the inability of tribunals to act as a vehicle for historical catharsis debate and criminal justice simultaneously, the result being histories continuing to exist in parallel. To a greater or lesser extent, Bosnian society continues to use historical narratives to further political aims, Milorad Dodikc’s recent denunciation of “Ottomanism” in Bosnia being a convenient example.40 Despite their inability to fulfil the very real and universal demands of Bosnians for justice, Truth and Reconciliation Commissions offer a viable alternative to tribunals in terms of fostering a universal truth, one shared by all national communities within Bosnia, and allowing reconciliation to proceed.

38 Marko Attila Hoare., “Bosnia-Hercegovina and International Justice: Past Failures and Future Solutions,” East European Politics and Societies, (2010): 191-205.39 Warschauer, et al, “Public education” in My Friend, My Enemy, Stover, Weinstein (eds.), 240.40 Vedrana Durakovic. Dodik ramps up rhetoric against Turkey’s role. 2011 йил 8-July. http://www.setimes.com/cocoon/setimes/ xhtml/en_GB/features/setimes/features/2011/07/08/feature-03 (accessed 2011 йил 11-July).


Documents

Future of History Volume VII