Historical Dialogue and the Prevention of Mass Atrocities

Elazar Barkan, Constantin Goschler, James Waller

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9781000043945
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Politics & International Relations
• Subtopic: Politics
• Index: Politics & International Relations

This book brings together a diverse range of international voices from academia, policymaking and civil society to address the failure to connect historical dialogue with atrocity prevention discourse and provide insight into how conflict histories and historical memory act as dynamic forces, actively facilitating or deterring current and future conflict.

Established on a variety of international case studies combining theoretical and practical points of view, the book envisions an integrated understanding of how historical dialogue can inform policy, education, and the practice of atrocity prevention. In doing so, it provides a vital basis for the development of preventive policies sensitive to the importance of conflict histories and for further academic study on the topic.

It will be of interest to all scholars and students of history, psychology, peace studies, international relations and political science.

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Historical dialogue and mass atrocities

Elazar Barkan

Genocide and atrocities leave indelible marks on their victims, and it is widely scholarly acknowledged that memories of these contribute at times to renewed mass violence. Yet, it is difficult to develop policies to counter memory of historical violence and communal sense of victimization that instigate calls for retaliation. Thus, because there is little experience in implementing such policies and in recognizing impact, too little attention is paid to collective memory as a topic of policy or advocacy and it remains tentative and suggestive. Conflict resolution (or conflict transformation) experts, even when they recognize the centrality of collective memory as a risk factor, do not offer policies to counter the risks. Most likely, it is acknowledged with resignation: conveying a sentiment that says there is nothing to do about it.

The goal of this volume is to begin and fill this lacuna by identifying instances where awareness of the damaging role of historical memory instigates counteraction; that is, the historical memory is addressed head on with the aim to reinterpret the violence, its causes and responsibilities, in ways that would lead to diminished animosity. The field of memory studies is vast and includes numerous disciplines and complementary concepts such as memory politics, collective memory, cultural memory, as well as psychological and neurological to mention a few categories. Their fields of inquiry overlap, but each has also unique perspective. We begin with historical dialogue. For our purposes, historical dialogue conveys a discourse that engages with the possibility of redress of past political violence and atrocities which takes any number of forms, and is most critical in its impact on culture and identity. It includes both explicit efforts to advance conflict resolution, and indirect discursive engagement. This is a step beyond Benedetto Croce’s dictum that “All history is contemporary history,” in the sense that Croce viewed historical writings as done from current perspectives, but did not look to historians as necessarily attempting to influence contemporary society, its politics, and identity. It is probably inevitable that intellectual and creative engagement is shaped, constrained, by the present, and in this, scholars, historians and others, often may contribute to informal historical dialogue without intending to, even though eventually the work may well shape formal dialogue. An intentional and explicit historical dialogue is done by official or private individuals, scholars, and civil society advocates. It aims to rethink mass atrocities and violence and its representation in a manner that would contribute to diminishing the animosity between the parties and would acknowledge responsibility and even guilt, depending on the circumstances. For the dialogue to be successful it has to be based on sound historical research, it must be empirically verifiable, and it has to engage in the discourse participants who belong to the different sides in the conflict. (The discussion does not have to be structured, but the parties have to engage, respond, to each other.) Even if these preconditions exist, in many cases the dialogue is unproductive as protagonists are too invested in their group self-righteousness. Although the identity of the protagonists does not necessarily determine the content of the narrative, it is more likely to be viewed as “true,” impartial, if the critique of a nationalist perspective is done by members who share that identity. A Serb who acknowledges Serbian historical crimes has a different resonance than a Croatian who would point to similar wrongs. Communities have to own the historical narrative in order for it to have public resonance. Historical dialogue aims at creating narratives that diminish nationalist (or group) hatred and animosity, engage past violence and suffering, and question guilt and responsibility; it challenges victors’ narrative and the clear binary of perpetrator and victim. That is, victims could be perpetrators too. The challenge is to maintain delineation of responsibility and guilt while acknowledging the historical complexity. In its aspirational capacity, historical dialogue bridges over contentious sectarian varieties of history, and disseminating these publically. A different aspect of dialogue/controversy takes place between two groups, countries, which is conducted primarily among politicians, over historical questions, and may lead to an agreement that remains historically controversial. Examples include the 2015 Japanese–South Korean ‘Final and Irreversible’ Comfort Women agreement (which nonetheless remained controversial and impacted the bilateral relations), or the 2018 Polish-Israeli joint statement (see later in the chapter).

Dialogue is understood to include not only direct diplomatic negotiations and joint historical work, but also wider more diffused exchanges than an explicit discussion between two parties and includes contributions to the public discourse that enhance sound historical knowledge and empirical data about the contentious record. This non-linear discourse includes contributions by participants from all sides to the conflict, who may or may not be aiming to take part in a dialogue. It does not mean to focus exclusively on aspirational reconciliation and consensus but recognizes that conflict/post-conflict and functional democracies are built on agonism. And so does historical dialogue, especially when it comes to prevention. Managed conflict is part of agonistic solution.

Historical research contributes to the dialogue indirectly through constructing narratives, some provide impartial old-fashioned historical knowledge, validated by peer review, and making it publically available. It becomes part of a dialogue when it is explicitly engaged with the present. Dialogue promotes analysis and representation of historical knowledge and memory from a present-day perspective. The goal perhaps does not necessarily have to be in all cases a direct policy commitment, but it is done with awareness of potential contemporary impact. We can represent historical dialogue as an outer ring, where the informal and indirect historical discourse takes place, within which there is a Venn diagram where each circle contains an explicit mechanism in a dialogue such as historical commission, textbook, exhibition, oral histories, films, or memorial. This could be the result of official historical dialogue such as a historical commission, or exhibitions in a state or private museum, or the writing of textbooks or other activities in the public spheres, but even more often it is a result of civil society activism.¹ These histories could be described as historical dialogue in that they involved representing the perspectives of affected communities seeking understanding of the experiences of perpetrators and survivors of the violence through these mechanisms. The involvement of advocates, primarily on the side of victims who demand recognition and redress, frames historical dialogue as a human rights discourse. There are those who argue that human rights and historical dialogue are incompatible because human rights necessitate polarization between victims and perpetrators while historical dialogue requires complexity. This calls for caution, but it also overlooks the policy predicaments often characteristic of human rights in general. Furthermore, we must recognize that historical complexity is the precondition for any attempt at historical accountability through dialogue and is at the heart of historically informed human rights demands.

The poverty of explicit successful preventive policies and experiences despite the extensive international rhetoric and policies such as R2P aimed at conflict resolution necessitates new approaches. There are no international mechanisms or recognized instruments that include historical clarification as part of the reconciliation process. Indeed, there have to be new approaches that go beyond military or economic sanctions, in particular attempts to change structural attitudinal approaches. We propose that if we accept that there is an urgent need to explore new directions in atrocities prevention, the transformation of public perceptions should be high on the agenda. The chapters in the volume point to feasible spheres of action and policies that ought to be tried widely, in order to explore counter-measures that could contribute to changing public disposition and diminish the likelihood of future violence. Historical dialogue along the lines described in this volume could develop into a new norm that informs prevention. This goal may be seen as particularly challenging these days, when democracy and human rights are on the defensive, when fake news and populist-nationalist propaganda are seemingly on the ascent. We are not naïve. Yet, for those who believe in resistance to nationalists, reframing the national narrative may provide a sphere of action. But even if there is no room for optimism in the short run, it seems essential to acknowledge the significance of historical narratives for preventing future conflict.

Notwithstanding the distinction between types of political violence including war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide, discussion on prevention often focuses primarily on one type of violence (e.g., genocide, the crime of crimes), as though it can delineate types of mass violence, and assuming that the distinctions are clear and stable, rather than a continuum, stretches credibility. This clearly overstates the case. Prevention should start early and address all types of mass violence.

The explanations of why the history of violence is an important risk factor – including fear, distrust, acceptance of extreme violence – are pertinent to preventing atrocities and mass violence as much as to genocide. While there are specificities to mass atrocities, prevention should apply to all types of conflicts since the level and type of violence cannot be predicted with certainty. This is true both in cases of mass atrocities and genocide, as well as mass political violence, that does not rise to the same classifications.

Predicting mass violence focuses on various causes including political instability, authoritarianism, group (ethnic, religious) segregation and discrimination, or relative international isolation either by choice or as a result of sanctions. Each of these can be addressed by a policy response and the literature on prevention articulates this. Yet, the policies are more elusive when it comes to addressing the legacy of violence and conflict. It is widely recognized that the memory of historical violence is often related to newly instigated mass atrocities. That is, previous genocides are thought to be predictive of future genocides; the memory of genocide is a critical risk factor in forthcoming genocide. Even as a negative factor, when it is viewed as inhibiting factor for a generation,² the memory remains a critical factor that needs to be dealt with. Recurring identity base violence, whether it involves ethnicity or religious factors, whether defined as genocide or mass atrocities, is even more commonplace. While correlation is not causation, there are ample reasons to accept that the memory of mass violence plays a critical role in newly perpetrated violence. One rationale is that habituate violence lowers the bar for further violence, which seems reasonable. This would be less persuasive when the violence renews after a long, even very long, period without violence. The legacy of historical violence may indeed play a more significant role, maybe a cause or a justification, though it has to be examined in each case. After all, the memory of violence contributes in certain cases to renewed violence, but it does not predetermine repeated violence.

History is not a destiny: that is, once mass violence is etched in the group memory, it is not bound to be repeated. There are numerous examples of historical mass violence which, rather than incite new atrocities, seemingly provide a warning sign, a barrier, against re-instigation of mass political violence. In Germany, and even more so in Japan, the legacy of World War II provided for half a century a bulwark against government involvement in wars. An illuminating illustration comes from Eastern Europe in the 1990s, where multiple reasons for conflicts existed, especially recalling the widespread ethnic cleansing, frontiers without historical legitimacy, and memories of eternal national conflict. Similar to Yugoslavia, the region was primed for violent conflict. But despite the violent history of the infamous Bloodlands, political realism prevailed and averted major national and ethnic conflicts. The situation changed in 2014 when Russia attacked Ukraine, and the rationale presented for the war was historical grievances and ethnic animosity. Clearly there were contemporary realpolitik considerations, but the argument for the lack of legitimacy for Ukraine sovereignty in Crimea underscored Russia’s historical justifications in claiming Crimea and Eastern Ukraine.

The question of “continued impact” of history on contemporary politics and conflicts depends on the malleable time horizon. Recalling Zhou Enlai’s response to Nixon that it was “too early to tell” what was the impact of the French Revolution, it is evident that the time horizon is relative and context-bound. In Zhou Enlai’s case it may well have been more of a mistranslation (referring to Paris of 1968 but misunderstood to mean 1789) but was immediately etched in Western perspectives as characteristic of the Chinese long view of history. Myths are easily born and become part of the collective memory.

For our purpose this misunderstanding is informative in underscoring the malleability and non-linearity of memory. Here Michael Rothberg’s description of multi-directional memory is helpful. Memory should not be viewed as competitive or as a zero-sum game; the recognition of violence and atrocities in one context does not negate the significance of atrocities committed in another context, or by another group, but rather can inform it and validate it. Remembering the Holocaust does not diminish the memory of colonial violence or slavery, rather it potentially intensifies the demands for historical justice in these cases. The atrocities committed by members of a group do not negate that others from the same group were victims, and still others acted heroically as saviors and resisted the viciousness. Many Hutu were perpetrators, many others were victims, and few tried to save Tutsi.

The growing number of cases of historical violence classified as genocide makes it more likely that other cases too would gain such recognition. If one case is recognized as genocide, it does not mean there is no more room for recognition of others, but on the contrary, it makes it more likely. Historical memory is contextual and political. It is rarely forgotten, more likely the memory of suffering and victimization are there to be reawoken when the circumstances make it feasible. Consider the Herero genocide of 1904–7; long forgotten to the outside world, only to be reawakened in post-apartheid and within the context of Holocaust reparation of the 1990s, when the growing advocacy gained some traction. The memory of the genocide is far from resolved: Namibia, Germany, and the Herero were recently litigating the memory in New York court (the Herero lost the case (2019), but this is only one venue, the political contestation remains). In the meantime in academic circles, the violence against the Herero has become widely recognized as the first genocide in the 20th century, and there is a vibrant advocacy for acknowledgment among the Herero. It is clear that historical memory is a living organism which continuously evolves, especially when it nourishes on controversy and demands for justice, it constructs historical dialogue.

Attempts to quantify risk and likelihood of erupting violence are constrained by the specificity of each case, and the necessity to confine the study within a time horizon. Quantification necessitates binary inclusion or exclusion of cases. But memory and historical dialogue do not lend themselves to specific rules, or confinement within a specific time scale. Historical memory is long and can recede or emerge as a political demand. It certainly subverts short-term political perspectives: so, to limit a study of the impact of historical memory, say, to 40 years to determine whether it is a case of repeated violence, and whether memory of violence constitutes a risk factor, is arbitrary at best. Furthermore, historical memory is a political ideology which changes according to activists and advocacy, whether state institutions or political and civil society advocates focus on inciting nationalist ideology. Historical memory can be viewed as raw material molded by various interests, widely malleable, though constrained to a degree by empiricism. The question of historical truth and “fake news” has in the last few years made historical dialogue more difficult and more contentious, but also more critical as a preventative tool. The prevalence of fake news presents difficult empirical challenges for establishing historical veracity that can be accepted by all sides in a conflict, but it does not present a conceptual alternative. People continue to value truth and historical veracity; they are more likely to accept their sectarian perspectives as truth. It is more challenging therefore to establish what this truth is in the face of intentional distortions and political activism aims to promote a sectarian perspective at the expense of impartiality.

For example, the non-linearity and malleability of historical memory can be illustrated by the memory of interethnic violence in the Balkans which goes back to World War II as well as to the 14th century. Including Balkan historical memory as a cause of the conflict since the 1990s is self-evident and accepted on all sides. Yet, this clearly is in tension with methods of conflict resolution experts whose aim is to identify immediate or short-term risk of mass violence and who often limit their definition of repeated violence to within a generation. Does it make sense to limit the time frame for identifying when the memory of atrocities incites new violence? Had such a study been done in the late 1980s in Yugoslavia, it would have concluded most likely that the old rivalries had largely been overcome since no ethnic violence occurred for over a generation. Indeed, Yugoslavia in the 1970s was the epitome of ethnic healing, and multi-ethnic identity. Yet, the multiple wars of the 1990s make the FRY exhibit number one for the persistence of ethnic animosity based on historical memory which goes beyond any time-bound study. From a conflict resolution perspective, Slobodan Milosevic’s speech delivered on the 600th anniversary of the Battle of Kosovo on 28 June 1989 to 1 million people was an unexpected event which became a battle cry of Serbian nationalism and a foundatio...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Series Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Contents
• List of images
• Notes on contributors
• 1 Historical dialogue and mass atrocities
• 2 Preventing mass atrocities: the role of conflict history in risk, response, and resilience
• PART I Historical commissions
• PART II Education
• PART III Museums
• PART IV Art and visual interventions
• Index