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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, 2 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 3