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“The implications of a political pardon?”
By
Aisake Casimira
The wounds of the 2000 events (coup and mutiny) affect every aspect of this country’s life. They
concern individuals, ethnic and religious groups, and people’s perceptions of the ‘others’ are
coloured by fear, resentment or hatred. But it is not only people and their relationships that are
damaged. Moral and value systems are also shattered. The tendency to ‘demonise’ the enemy,
evidently found in most violent conflicts of our time, opens the door to the worst violations of
human rights and atrocities, and blatant disregard for human life. Not only are the principles of
international human rights standards ignored but also the basic values of our traditional cultures
are not respected. The possibility of full or partial pardon for the perpetrators of the 2000 events
needs to be seen in this broader socio-political meaning and implications for our country and its
people. This is a brief reflection on what it would mean for our society.
The term ‘impunity’ refers to the legal pardoning or granting of amnesty to those who have
committed serious human rights violations, including crimes considered serious such as war
crimes, crimes against humanity and gross and systematic violations of civil and political rights
and economic, social and cultural rights. Since the 2000 events, there has been much debate,
often extreme, on whether or not what the perpetrators of the 2000 events did was justified.
More specifically, should they be pardoned for the blatant abuse of decent human values and
democratic principles and the subsequent violation of human rights? Can they be pardoned for
inciting, directly or indirectly, racial and religious violence and discrimination?
To some extent, the demand for pardon is a symptom of a growing ‘sub-culture’ of impunity in
our society. Major General Sitiveni Rabuka gave himself impunity and, by legalising it, also his
silence over the truth about the 1987 coups. The reasons he did what he did and the names of
the people who financially supported him were never told. If he had admitted the truth and
revealed the names of the people behind the 1987 coups, we could have dealt with it, with its
pain and suffering. It could have helped in the healing and forgiving process. Immunity was not
restricted to Rabuka and his close accomplices. Since 1987 those who were responsible for the
burning of Hindu temples and other places of worship, the National Bank of Fiji (NBF) debacle,
recent scams involving millions of dollars of tax payers’ money, and those allegedly planned and
incited the 1987 and 2000 coups, were not held accountable to their crimes. Such a culture
creates psychological problems for our society. As Paz Rojas (1996), a Chilean neuropsychiatrist
observed: “The continuance of [amnesty] produces patterns of psychological disorder capable of
causing mental disturbances comparable to, if not more serious than torture. When the
responsibility of criminals is suppressed, the trauma resulting from a crime, which remains hidden
in the realm of injustice, remains a deep, open wound in the personal and social life of the
victims.”
The question of the role of the Churches, in this case the Assembly of the Christian Churches’
role in the reconciliation activities of government is contentious. In some conflicts around the
world, for example, in some South American countries, the Churches were co-opted to provide an
ideological foundation for the impunity agenda of Governments. Speaking at a World Council of
Churches (WCC) consultation on the subject of impunity, the Argentine Methodist Bishop Aldo
Etchegoyen (cited in Genevieve Jacques, 2000:12) said: “As often happens, the political,
economic and military authorities turn to the religious authorities to justify their actions in
relation to impunity. The granting of pardon is the political-legal instrument for implementing
impunity; its theological justification is forgiveness…”
It is understandable that the present Government does not wish to make the fight against
impunity a top priority. But history shows that such a stance often advanced by Governments –
namely, that building a peaceful society for the future is incompatible with righting the injustices
of the past – proves to be an illusion in the long term. As M. Cherif Bassiouni (1996:11-12) notes:
“Justice is all too frequently bartered away for political settlements. Whether in international,
non-international or purely internal conflicts the practice of impunity has become the political
price paid to secure an end to the violence of on-going conflicts or as a means to ensure
tyrannical regimes change. In these bartered settlements the victims’ rights become the objects
of political trade-offs and justice becomes, depending on one’s perspective, the victim of the
means of Realpolitik.”
The past practices of immunity, most often in protection of cultural status, public image and
reputation, and under the guise of national security or cultural sensitivity, point to something
very wrong with our system as a whole, with its rules and with codes of behaviour. In such a
culture, the problem is not simply one of deviant acts by certain individuals. The legal system
lends itself to being co-opted and amnesty becomes a “normal” attribute of power.
Moreover, certain people and groups consider themselves above the law, above morality,
unaccountable to anyone for any of their actions, no matter how serious. As Alumita Durutalo
noted in her MA Thesis (1997:185), one indigenous Fijian Church minister argued that, “Fijian
dominance since the 1987 coups has had negative psychological influence on Fijian youths. The
illegal nature of the coups encouraged a false sense of consciousness amongst Fijian youths –
that Fiji was theirs and they could do whatever that wanted to other people, especially IndoFijians – and this has contributed to crime rates amongst Fijians.” After the events of 2000, it can
be surmised that this false sense of consciousness has grown even stronger. The latest police
statistics seem to indicate this.
In this respect, not considering a pardon for the perpetrators of the 2000 events is an integral
part of the defence and promotion of human dignity in our situations. This becomes a priority
human rights concern in our society. It makes no sense to demand pardon in the name of
Christian forgiveness until he or she has carried out a process of public confession and
repentance. As Donald Shriver (1995:9) notes: “Forgiveness in a political context is an act that
joins moral truth, forbearance, empathy and commitment to repair a fractured human relation.
Such a combination calls for a collective turning from the past that neither ignores past evil nor
excuses it, that neither overlooks justice nor reduces justice to revenge, that insists on the
humanity of enemies even in their commission of dehumanising deeds, and that values the
justice that restores political community above the justice that destroys it.”
Forgiveness, in our context, must be grounded in a broader process of political forgiveness that
draws all of us toward healing and reconciliation. Although forgiveness is a personal initiative,
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people are essentially social beings and are situated within a pattern of relationships through
which they express themselves. Hence, as Muller-Fahrenholz (1998:25) explained in the context
true reconciliation: “An act of forgiveness must be understood as a complex process of
‘unlocking’ painful bondage, of mutual liberation. While the perpetrators must be set free from
their guilt (and its devastating consequences), the victim must be liberated from their hurt (and
its destructive implications). This mutual liberation implies a process of catharsis, and this is the
point which scares most people.”
How, then, is it possible to legitimately discuss forgiveness in the form of a political pardon
without also discussing healing for the victims of the 2000 events, families and relatives of those
who died or tortured during the mutiny and reconciliation between alienated groups. Restoring
the human dignity of the people concerned in the eyes of society and in their own is therefore a
primary human rights concern. This may include recognising the humanity of the perpetrators of
the 2000 events by affirming their responsibility and educating public opinion by affirming the
supremacy of the law over vengeance. It goes without saying that our legal system needs this,
given its bad image since the 2000 coup.
In view of the above, the demand for pardon is not a singular, unrelated event. It will have a
profound impact on our society’s moral and value systems, including the legal system, the
integrity of the government which is highly questionable at the moment, and whether or not we
are genuine in our reconciliation efforts. Although important in relation to respect for the law, the
legal aspect is not the only requirement when addressing pardon and reconciliation. Attention
also must be given to the healing and transformation of victims and perpetrators of the 2000
events, their families and relatives. This may include articulating the most relevant process to
address the need for healing and justice that will hopefully lead to transformation.
Our society needs to take the position that there can be no real reconciliation without healing
and transformation for the victims and perpetrators, their families and relatives, and our society
as a whole. The outcome of how authorities handle the mitigation case will be crucial to how we
move forward with reconciliation, and whether or not it will contribute meaningful to a lasting
and sustainable peace in this country. Moreover, it will impact on how we see ourselves as a
people, how we see our future and the legacy that we wish to leave to our children.
* Aisake Casimira is the Director of the Ecumenical Centre for Research, Education and Advocacy.
This article first appeared in The Fiji Times 13 November 2002
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