a-safety-2005vol1 1..117 - University of South Africa

African Safety Promotion
A Journal of Injury and Violence Prevention
JOURNAL AIMS AND SCOPE
African Safety Promotion: A Journal of Injury and Violence Prevention
(ASP) is a forum for discussion and constructive debate among
academics, policy-makers and practitioners active in the field of injury
prevention and safety promotion. ASP seeks to promote research and
dialogue around a central public health issue that affects Africa, namely
injury and violence.
SUBJECT COVERAGE
Issues of the ASP's predecessor, the Institute for Social and Health
Science's Monograph Series, addressed a variety of injury and
violence related topics, such as:
. injury surveillance methodologies
. costing techniques
. epidemiological research findings
. health systems research
. risks and resiliences associated with violence and injuries in low- to -
middle income contexts
. best practices for injury prevention and containment interventions
ASP is administered by the Unisa Institute for Social and Health
Sciences, and the Presidential Crime, Violence and Injury Lead
Programme. The Crime, Violence and Injury Lead Programme was
established in October 2001 and is jointly managed and developed by
the South African Medical Research Council (MRC) and the UNISA
Institute for Social and Health Sciences (ISHS). The brief of this
Programme is to contribute to injury prevention and safety promotion in
South Africa and more widely in Africa. The Programme thus seeks to
contribute to and promote the continent's health status, safety, and
quality of life, specifically through multidisciplinary public-healthorientated
research aimed at preventing death, disability and suffering
arising from crime, violence and unintentional injury.
ASP seeks to promote multidisciplinary research and dialogue about
injury and violence on the continent. The journal publishes on a
spectrum of topics of interest to researchers, practitioners and policy
makers in the injury and violence prevention sector. The ASP is an
accredited South African Post Secondary Education (SAPSE) journal.
All articles in the journal are subject to peer review. ASP is published
biannually and features original full-length articles, theoretical papers,
reviews, and short communications.
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Mohamed Seedat, MRC-Unisa Crime, Violence and Injury Lead
Programme, and University of South Africa
ISSUE EDITORS
Mohamed Seedat, MRC-Unisa Crime, Violence and Injury Lead
Programme and University of South Africa
Shahnaaz Suffla, University of the Western Cape
Lu-Anne Swart, University of South Africa, Institute for Social and
Health Sciences
EDITORIAL ASSISTANT
Victor Peteke, University of South Africa
EDITORIAL COMMITTEE
Richard Matzopoulos, Medical Research Council
Garth Stevens, University of South Africa
Shahnaaz Suffla, University of the Western Cape
Martin Terre Blanche, University of South Africa
Ashley van Niekerk, Medical Research Council
EDITORIAL BOARD
Mahomed Dada, forensic pathologist, Vereeniging
Samuel Forjuoh, Texas Agricultural & Mechanical University
Olive Kobusingye, Ugandan Injury Control Centre
Dinesh Mohan, Indian Institute of Technology
Wilson Odero, Moi University
Babatunde Solagberu, University of Irolin
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Contact Details: Ms Lyndsey Lourie, African Safety Promotion: A
Journal of Injury and Violence Prevention, PO Box 1087, Lenasia 1820,
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Copyright # 2005 African Safety Promotion: A Journal of Injury and
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African Safety Promotion
A Journal of Injury
and Violence Prevention
Vol 3, No 1 2005
CONTENTS
EDITORIAL
Building cultures of peace: Contextual and discursive considerations
Mohamed Seedat and Shahnaaz Suffla 1
ORIGINAL CONTRIBUTIONS
Understanding collective violence in apartheid and post-apartheid South Africa
Norman Duncan 5
Truth, confessions and reparations: : Lessons from the South African Truth
and Reconciliation Commission
Garth Stevens 23
Non-violent conflict resolution and peacebuilding in South Africa
Martin Terre Blanche 40
Conflict, Reconciliation and Peacebuilding in the North-East region of India
Rei Vashum 52
Conflict management in the Indian subcontinent: The dimensions of Hindu-Muslim conflict
Iqbal A. Ansari 63
i

SHORT RESEARCH REPORTS
Reflections on Truth and Reconciliation
Hiren Gohain 76
Caste and Class Violence in Central Bihar: Restructuring Social Order Towards Reconciliation
Prakash Louis 83
Satyagraha in Creative Society
Manoranjan Mohanty 87
SHORT COMMUNICATIONS
International Collaborative Effort on Injury Statistics Meeting, 1-2 June 2005,
Cuernavaca, Mexico
Richard Matzopoulos 90
Injury Prevention and Safety Promotion events held under the auspices of the
Injury Prevention Initiative for Africa, 3-10 July 2005, Port-Said, Egypt
Fatma Hassan, Wilson Odero and Ashley Van Niekerk 92
Abstracts 95
Call for submissions 106
Contents of previous issues of African Safety Promotion:
A Journal of Injury and Violence Prevention
109
Order form 114
ii

Editorial
BUILDING CULTURES OF PEACE:
CONTEXTUAL AND DISCURSIVE
CONSIDERATIONS
Mohamed Seedat 1
Institute for Social and Health Sciences, University of South Africa
Shahnaaz Suffla
Institute for Counselling, University of the Western Cape
At a structural level, the history of at least the last five centuries suggests that violence is an inherent
feature of governance and management of geopolitical configurations including empires, monarchies
and nation states, and to the quest for freedom from physical, intellectual and cultural occupation.
Between the 16th and 20th centuries an estimated total of 143.8 million people were killed due to
violent conflicts (Sivard, 1991; Sivard, 1996; Zwi, Garfield & Loretti, 2002). Of these at least 6 million
people were killed in the slave trade, and 10 million indigenous Americans were killed by European
colonialists. Of the estimated 1.6 million people who died as a consequence of interpersonal, selfinflicted
or collective acts of violence in 2000, estimates suggest that approximately 310 000 people
died from war-related injuries, varying according to region and levels of economic development
(Krug, Dahlberg, Mercy, Zwi & Lozano, 2002). The World Health Organization (WHO) African region
recorded the highest rates of war-related deaths at 32 deaths per 100 000 population, followed by 8.2
per 100 000 for the Eastern Mediterranean region, 7.6 per 100 000 for the European region, and 4.4
per 100 000 for the low-middle income (LMIC) South-East Asian region. Whereas the overall rate for
high-income countries is 1 per 100 000, the rate for LMICs is 6.2 per 100.000. For the WHO African
region war, alongside various communicable diseases (e.g. HIV/AIDS, tuberculosis) and noncommunicable
diseases (e.g. ischaemic heart disease), is among the top 15 leading causes of death.
Thus, when world history is read alongside injury and war mortality statistics, these may well
corroborate the determinist view that violence is both necessary and intrinsic to human nature and
societies' interpersonal and collective affairs.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
1. Please direct all correspondence to Mohamed Seedat, Institute for Social and Health Sciences, University of South Africa, P.O. Box 1087, Lenasia, 1820,
Johannesburg, South Africa; Tel: +27 11 857 1142; Fax: +27 11 857 1770; E-mail: seedama@unisa.ac.za
1

In stark contrast, a number of voices consciously contest the idea that war and collective violence,
like other forms of violence, are necessary and an inevitable result of human nature and governance.
Such voices include the World Report on Violence and Health (Krug et al., 2002), various United
Nations declarations on peacekeeping, the peace psychology and safety promotion fraternities and
faith-based groups (e.g. Catholic Bishops Conference, Psychologists for Social Responsibility),
scholars and activists (e.g. Christie, Wagner & Winter, 2001; Crow, 2001; Khan, 2001; Noorani,
2002). Despite their ideological and epistemological diversity, for the voices of peace and safety
violence is both predictable and preventable, and therefore its feasibility and utility as an instrument
of social control and/or emancipation across different contexts and historical periods merit critical
interrogation. Underlying this implicit call for interrogation is the idea that prevention and predictability
may be discerned through a study of the determinants of violence and an enhanced articulation of
the psychosocial, structural, and contextual factors associated with the production of violence, and
conversely peace.
Whether the accent is on socio-political structures, individual pathology, learning, criminal intent or
gender inequality, the voices of peace and safety promotion implicitly (though they may not wish to
acknowledge) place violence and its prevention within the realms of human agency, reflexivity and
ethico-normative considerations. In so far as collective violence is constructed as predictable and
preventable, it is located within the realm of human agency. Likewise, the focus on the utility and
consequences of violence positions violence within our reflexive and ethico-normative domains,
which are not necessarily divorced from ideological and socio-economic issues. When, for instance,
the human rights and anti-war movements opposing the American-British invasion of Iraq argue that
the end does not justify the means and stress international rule of law, the importance of territorial
integrity and self-determination, they tend to project war and violence as unethical, immoral and
illegal.
Ironically, as in other instances of war, the American and British governments, however hypocritical,
also invoked principles related to freedom, human rights and democracy to justify the war morally
and to mobilise the requisite public support, albeit limited. When the Anglo-American public began
questioning their respective governments' claims that Iraq was associated with terrorism and
weapons of mass destruction, the American government in particular shifted the focus from realpolitick
to exalted moral principles, using catchy idioms and appeals to patriotism. As a self-appointed
guardian of world freedom, America assumed moral responsibility to establish freedom, democracy
and human rights even in lands such as Iraq, which are geographically distant from America.
QUESTIONS ABOUT PEACE: UNIVERSALS AND SPECIFICS
Such ethico-normative, dialectical and intra-psychic considerations that call for a rational and
reflexive approach to the (non)deployment of violence presents a range of questions for peace
promotion activists and researchers in South Africa and the Indian subcontinent. The First India-
South Africa Dialogue, held at the University of Delhi under the auspices of Delhi University's
Developing Countries Research Centre and University of South Africa's Institute for Social and
Health Sciences, focused on interrogating the universals and contextually-bound specifics underlying
the determinants of violence and genesis of peace, truth and reconciliation. In this issue we bring
together some of the key papers that formed the kernel of the discussions at the Dialogue, which was
2

centrally focused on ``exploring Afro-Indo solutions in a universal search for peace and safety''.
Delegates examined recent and current forms and expressions of collective violence in South Africa
and India; discussed and compared South African and Indian social and scientific responses to
collective violence; reviewed successes, challenges and lessons discerned from South Africa and
India's emerging peace and safety promotion cultures; and explored mechanisms for mutuallybeneficial
long-term co-operation around peace and safety promotion work in India and South Africa.
The Dialogue, encompassing an exchange of views and an attempt at discerning lessons for good
practices for the prevention of collective violence and for peacebuilding, enabled a nuanced analysis
of collective violence and its impact in both South Africa and India (see Duncan and Louis in this
issue). South Africa's relatively smooth transition to political democracy (see Terre Blanche) and
associated structural mechanisms, such as the Truth and Reconciliation (see Stevens and Gohain),
provided substantive material for comparative analysis. Indian academic and social activists,
concerned about the incomplete project of democracy in the Indian subcontinent, generated a great
deal of understanding of Satyagraha (see Manoranjan) and the violent conflicts in Bihar (see Louis),
north-east India (see Vashum) and Indo-Pakistan and Hindu-Muslim tensions (see Ansari).
These and other papers not included in this issue, which also focused on the struggle for selfdetermination
in Kashmir, undoubtedly raised many questions about the nature and truth of conflict,
reconciliation and truth itself. Mohanty, through a critical appropriation of Gandhi's Satyagraha,
understood as a process to vindicate the truth and as a peacebuilding strategy on a larger societal
level (Mayton II, 2001), furthers our search for the determinants of peace. Consonant with the overall
focus of this ASP issue we also bring together a selection of abstracts summarising doctoral-level
projects that challenge the public-health oriented researcher and practitioner to consider seriously the
social sciences' and humanities' contributions to the body of knowledge focused on peace promotion.
How ever we approach the study of violence and its prevention, or conversely peace and peace
promotion, this collection of articles clearly points to the need for multi-sectoral engagement, crossglobal
linkages and international collaboration. The crafting of peace is undoubtedly a global project
that is responsive to the values of inclusiveness, diversity and equity. Accordingly, this issue of ASP
is also an attempt to ensure that dominant knowledge traditions and practices are not privileged to
the exclusion of those voices marginal to the public health oriented focus on safety promotion.
Even though South Africa's emancipation from apartheid-capitalism remains an unfinished project,
the dismantling of political apartheid through protracted negotiations and other modes of (in)direct
dialogue and struggle, including cessation of violent hostilities, has produced a climate in which lives
and resources otherwise lost in violence can now be invested towards meaningful and substantive
socio-economic justice. The contributors to this issue seem to suggest that in South Africa, as in
India, new and innovative modes of engagement need to be found so that the vision of peace, justice
and human rights becomes a reality for all, beyond the machinations of violence and pseudo-peace
initiatives that are predicated on fear and domination.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
The editors thank Dr Manindra Thakur for providing the translations of Hindi terms in some of the
articles in this issue.
3

REFERENCES
Christie, D.J., Wagner, R.V. & Winter, D.D. (Eds) (2001). Peace, conflict and violence: Peace psychology for
the 21st century. New Jersey: Prentice Hall.
Crow, K.D. (2001). Nurturing Islamic peace discourse. American Journal of Islamic Social Sciences, 17(3), 54-
69.
Khan, W. (2001). Islam rediscovered. Discovering Islam from its original sources. New Delhi: Goodword Books.
Krug, E.G., Dahlberg, L.L., Mercy, J.A., Zwi, A.B. & Lozano, R. (Eds) (2002). World report on violence and
health. Geneva: World Health Organization.
Mayton II, D.M. (2001). Gandhi as peacebuilder: The social psychology of Satyagraha. In D.J. Christie, R.V.
Wagner & D.D. Winter (Eds), Peace, conflict and violence: Peace psychology for the 21 st century (pp. 307-
313). New Jersey: Prentice Hall.
Noorani, A.G. (2002). Islam and Jihad. New Delhi: Leftwood Books.
Sivard, R.L. (1991). World military and social expenditures (14th ed.). Washington DC: World Priorities.
Sivard, R.L. (1996). World military and social expenditures (16th ed.). Washington DC: World Priorities.
Zwi, A.B., Garfield, R. & Loretti, A. (2002). Collective violence. In E.G. Krug, L.G. Dahlberg, J.A. Mercy, A.B.
Zwi & R. Lazano (Eds), World report on violence and health. Geneva: World Health Organization.
4

Original contributions
UNDERSTANDING COLLECTIVE
VIOLENCE IN APARTHEID AND
POST-APARTHEID SOUTH AFRICA
Norman Duncan 1
Department of Psychology, University of the Witwatersrand
ABSTRACT
The primary aim of this article is to explore some of the patterns of political violence that
characterised the apartheid and post-apartheid periods in South African history, as well as the
attempts to deal with the sequelae of these patterns of violence. Secondly, the article endeavours to
illustrate how the statistics that we are wont to rely on in making sense of political violence, frequently
only present a partial glimpse of and in the process lead to misrepresentations of the phenomenon.
Thirdly, the article attempts to examine two of the key interventions initiated by the post-apartheid
government to deal with the violence in South Africa's past and present, namely the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission and the Reconstruction and Development Programme. The article
concludes with the observation that, despite their many merits, interventions such as these could not
be adequate to deal with past and extant patterns of political violence.
Most of the available statistics indicate that fatalities resulting from political violence in South Africa
(which in this article is seen as one of the key forms of collective violence that has marred the social
landscape over the last century) increased dramatically during the late 1980s, as well as during the
mid-1990s when South Africa was negotiating its transition from the apartheid order to non-racial
democracy (cf. Alence, 1999; South African Institute of Race Relations, 2000). Furthermore, as
illustrated in Table 1, the available statistics indicate that following South Africa's first non-racial,
democratic elections and the installation of its first democratic government, instances of overt political
violence decreased substantially.
While these statistics embody a glimmer of hope to a country, which for a very long period of its
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
1. Please direct all correspondence to Norman Duncan, Department of Psychology, University of the Witwatersrand, Private Bag X3, P. O. Wits, 2050, South
Africa; Tel. +27 +11 717-4545; Fax. +27 +11 717- 4559; E-mail: duncann@umthombo.wits.ac.za
5

history has been brutalised and paralysed by all forms of collective violence, one should obviously
not accept this and other similar portrayals of collective violence in South Africa at face value; for as
will be argued in this article, these portrayals of collective violence are somewhat partial and
therefore relatively deceptive, both in terms of their representation of the extent of collective violence
during the apartheid period, as well as their representation of the actual and potential impact of this
violence on contemporary South African society (cf. Simpson, 1993).
Furthermore, it will be argued that the manner in which we recall, reconstruct, represent and deal
with the extent and nature of the various forms of collective violence that characterised South African
society during the apartheid era, to some extent will determine the potential for new forms of
collective violence in South Africa, both currently and in the future.
TABLE 1
Political fatalities
YEAR
TOTAL
1985 879
1986 1298
1987 661
1988 1149
1989 1403
1990 3699
1991 2706
1992 3347
1993 3794
1994 2476
1995 1044
1996 683
1997 470
1998 356
23965
Source: South African Institute of Race Relations (SAIRR) (2000)
Before I present these arguments, however, it might be useful to firstly present the definitions of
violence and collective violence that inform this article.
6

TOWARDS A DEFINITION OF COLLECTIVE VIOLENCE
Indicative of the phenomenon's complex and quasi-impalpable nature, the humanities and social and
health sciences have generated a multiplicity of definitions of violence. While this article offers a
social science analysis of collective violence, I have decided to utilise the World Health
Organisation's (2002) definition of the phenomenon, even though this definition is located within a
public health framework. This decision is based partly on the fact that this definition is fairly
comprehensive, and partly also because the World Health Organisation (WHO) definition offers a
pragmatic point of departure for this article.
In its World Report on Violence and Health, the World Health Organisation (2002) defines violence
as:
the intentional use of physical force or power, threatened or actual, against oneself, another
person, or against a group or community, that either results in or has a high likelihood of resulting
in injury, death, psychological harm, mal-development or deprivation (p. 4).
Obviously, in the sense that it accommodates both harmful physical force as well as the abuse of
power (as expressed through coercion and domination) (Schutte, 1994), this definition extends the
coverage of the term ``violence'' significantly beyond its earlier fairly narrow applications (cf. Bulhan,
1985; Degenaar, 1990).
Within the framework of this definition, the WHO (2002) distinguishes three broad categories of
violence, namely self-directed violence, interpersonal violence and collective violence. Collective
violence, which constitutes the focus of this article, refers to:
the instrumental use of violence by people who identify themselves as members of a group
against another group ... in order to achieve [certain] political, economic or social objectives (p. 5).
Against the backdrop of the broader definition of violence provided by the WHO, collective violence in
effect would refer to ``physical force or power'', ``threatened or actual'', exercised with the aim of
privileging an in-group or in-groups at the expense of an out-group or out-groups. As implied in the
latter definition, in terms of objectives collective violence can assume a predominantly (though
obviously not exclusively) political, economic and social orientation.
To a certain extent, this definition of collective violence overlaps with Bulhan (1985) and Galtung's (in
Degenaar, 1990) notion of structural violence. According to Galtung, ``structural violence is present
when human beings are being influenced so that their actual ... [functioning is] below their potential
realizations'' (in Degenaar, 1990, p. 11). Structural violence is built into extant institutional structures,
which through their functioning ensure that certain groups systematically obtain more power and
privileges than others (cf. Bulhan, 1985; Galtung, in Degenaar, 1990). Furthermore, according to
Bulhan (1985):
... structural violence ... imposes a pattern of relations and practices that are deeply ingrained in
and dominate everyday living. Individuals are born and socialized into it as victims or perpetrators
and, in the absence of a fundamental social change, they play out their ascribed roles ... structural
violence [is] hard to discern because it is very much part of social reality ... and everyday practices
(p. 136).
7

However, as will be argued later, and as world history has shown repeatedly, collective violence
rarely goes unopposed by those against whom it is directed. As such, this violence itself can be
considered an important determinant of reactive violence, including collective violence.
MANIFESTATIONS OF COLLECTIVE VIOLENCE IN SOUTH AFRICA
We now turn our attention to the anatomy and salient manifestations of collective violence during the
apartheid and post-apartheid periods. However, before embarking on the description of these
manifestations of collective violence, I wish to introduce two caveats.
First, in view of the constraints inherent in an article of this nature and the divergent nature of the
many manifestations of collective violence, I will focus only on political violence, and specifically, on
specific manifestations of this form of collective violence:
a) The attempts by the state to perpetuate or entrench social inequalities by means of legislation
and institutional structures (particularly relevant for the discussion of the political violence during
the apartheid era).
b) The counter-violence embodied by attempts to challenge these inequalities, as well as the state's
subsequent responses to this violence.
c) Intra- and inter-community violence, motivated by, or resulting from, political factors (Duncan &
Rock, 1997).
Second, because this article departs from the assumption that the reader has a basic knowledge of
recent South Africa history, but also due to space constraints, I will not discuss in any detail many of
the key historical events and processes that influenced the acts and processes of violence to be
examined hereunder.
Manifestations of collective violence in apartheid South Africa
State violence
In and of itself, the system of apartheid embodied one of the most pernicious systems of political
violence that the modern era has witnessed. As the eminent Somali-American psychologist Hussein
Bulhan (1985) so succinctly put it, apartheid ``was brought into existence and ... maintained by dint of
violence'' (p. 131) (cf. Cassin, Cayla & Salazar, 2004).
While its manifest objective of engendering and maintaining the dominance of a white minority over a
black majority provided sufficient cause to typify it as a process of collective violence (i.e. in terms of
the definition of collective violence provided earlier), and more specifically, political violence, it is the
political mechanisms and processes that were harnessed to give substance to this objective, which
most powerfully evoke the full extent of the destructiveness of this system. I present a brief
description of some of these mechanisms and processes below.
Firstly, as Cassin et al. (2004) and Knox and Quirk (2000) observe, apartheid was vivified through an
8

arsenal of laws that codified and bolstered all forms of racialised political violence in virtually every
sphere of human activity in South Africa. This arsenal included:
a) The Population Registration Act of 1950, which allowed for the forced classification of people into
one of the four so-called `races' identified by the National Party government (namely, `white',
`Indian', `coloured' and `African'), and which, moreover, would form the basis of the social, political
and economic marginalisation of all people not categorised `white'.
b) The Reservation of Separate Amenities Act of 1953, which reserved the best public amenities
(paid for by taxpayers of all the designated `races') for the exclusive use of whites.
c) The Group Areas Act of 1957, which made separate residential areas compulsory and which saw
millions of people evicted from their homes and effectively banished to the notorious apartheidengineered
ghettos and homelands.
d) The Prohibition of Mixed Marriages Act of 1950, which prohibited marriages between people of
different `races'.
e) The Extension of University Act of 1957, which effectively prevented blacks from attending all the
national universities and banished them to a few under-resourced facilities reserved for members
of their different `races'.
These laws allowed for the development of a regime of excessive privilege for whites and a situation
of utter destitution and hardship for the overwhelming majority of black 1 South Africans. As Chikane
(1986) observed in the mid-1980s, being black in apartheid South Africa meant being subjected to
one of the most pervasive systems of collective violence, which manifested itself in the squalid,
crime-infested ghettos, widespread malnutrition, poor or non-existent health systems, poor education
in ill-equipped and overcrowded schools, inadequate or non-existent social security, the constant
threat of forced evictions, high levels of unemployment and quotidian experiences of racist prejudice
and abuse (Duncan & Rock, 1997). The list is virtually endless. Nonetheless, for illustrative purposes
it might be useful to briefly consider some of the consequences of the institutionalised violence of
apartheid more closely.
It is estimated that by 1983 the lives of no fewer than 3.5 million people had been disrupted as a
result of the forced removals ensuing from the state's endeavours to forcefully segregate South
African society (Simpson, 1993). Furthermore, in 1986, according to a study conducted jointly by the
United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) and the National Children's Rights Commission (NCRC),
while the child mortality was 0.9 per 1000 for whites, it was 7 per 1000 for Africans. Along similar
lines, in 1994 it was reported that while the average infant mortality rate for whites was 10.8 per
1000, it was 74 per 1000 for Africans (UNICEF & NCRC, 1993). Additionally, one study found that
black children were between 14 and 15 times more likely to die before their fifth birthday, directly as a
result of the harsh living conditions to which blacks were subjected in apartheid South Africa
(Dowdall, 1990). In a study completed during the early 1990s, Hickson and Kriegler (in Duncan &
Rock, 1997) found that 50% of infant deaths in black communities were due to malnutrition-related
diseases. Various studies also point to the fact that the stresses of apartheid oppression so severely
compromised the functioning of black communities that many of these communities themselves
became so pathogenically violent as to generally compromise the overall psychological wellbeing of
their members (Duncan & Rock, 1997; SAIRR, 1999).
9

Counter-violence
In essence, apartheid gave rise to and fed on the brutalisation of black communities. To a certain
extent, this brutalisation can be seen as having been a precondition for the functioning and
perpetuation of apartheid; because in order to perpetuate itself, this system had to orchestrate the
creation of subaltern groups that were so brutalised and vulnerable that they could be threatened and
cowed into accepting their own subordinate position in South African society without too much protest
(Duncan & Rock, 1997).
However, if there is one characteristic that most forms of political violence have in common (no
matter how extreme they are), it is that they inevitably provoke various forms of counter-violence from
those whom they seek to subjugate. This was the case with apartheid as well. Since its inception this
system was under constant attack (Duncan & Rock, 1997). As a noted South African academic
observed during the 1980s, the system of apartheid spawned ``a violent society with violent laws ...
[that] invites violence'', a situation which he argued, served as sufficient justification by many for the
use of various acts of physical counter-violence (Boesak, cited in Duncan & Rock, 1997, p. 57).
Paradoxically, this violence had a profound effect not only on the apartheid system against which it
was aimed, but also on the lives of the victims of this system. For example, the social dislocation
unavoidably provoked by this violence severely disrupted the schooling of many children, as well as
their access to the meagre health and social services ordinarily at their disposal (Duncan & Rock,
1997). Then too, until the late 1980s, it led to many young people leaving the country to undergo
military training; and in the 1990s it resulted in many people, including countless children and
adolescents, being inducted into various so-called self-defence units throughout the country (Duncan
& Rock, 1997; Mlazi, 1994).
State repression
Like other systems of oppression, the apartheid system employed a range of repressive measures in
order to control dissent. These included house arrest, imprisonment without trial, countless states of
emergency, and the routine military occupation of black residential areas (Duncan & Rock, 1997).
It is estimated that over 80 000 people were imprisoned without trial between 1960 and 1994. Of
these, over 10 000 were subjected to various forms of psychological and physical abuse or to outright
torture (Coleman, 1994). Thousands eventually were tried in the apartheid state's courts of law and
imprisoned. Many received life or death sentences.
Furthermore, it is reported that from 1974 to 1989 some 300 attempted assassinations of various
leading anti-apartheid activists by covert state-sponsored `hit squads' took place both within and
beyond the borders of South Africa. At least 100 of these assassination attempts were successful
(Coleman, 1994).
No one was exempt from these repressive measures Ð not even children (Human Rights
Commission, 1993). Indeed, after the 1976 Soweto uprisings in which children emerged as important
actors in the anti-apartheid struggle, the state's repression of children intensified to levels rarely
witnessed in recent world history (Human Rights Commission, 1993; Straker, 1994), except perhaps
in occupied Palestine (Punamaki, 1987). Research reveals that, until 1990, children consistently
10

constituted between 25% and 46.5% of all awaiting-trial political prisoners held by the security forces.
Of these, 25% were aged 16 years and younger and 6.13% were 14 years of age and younger.
Some of these prisoners were as young as 7 years of age (Duncan & Rock, 1997).
The interregnum of 1990 to 1994
The apartheid state's use of repressive measures to deal with its opponents continued relentlessly
until at least 1990, which in many respects was considered a watershed year in South Africa's
troubled history. It will be remembered that it was during this year that Nelson Mandela was released
from prison, and that the African National Congress (ANC), the Pan African Congress (PAC) and
various other restricted anti-apartheid organisations were unbanned (Duvenage, 1994; Knox & Quirk,
2000). Furthermore, the year 1990 is generally regarded as the year that introduced the period of
transition between apartheid rule and the introduction of South Africa's first non-racial democratic
government.
Importantly, however, 1990 also announced a fundamental shift in the nature of the predominant
forms of political violence on the South African socio-political landscape. Whereas prior to 1990 the
origins and nature of the predominant forms of political violence in large part were fairly clearly
identifiable, after 1990 this was not readily the case. As Knox and Quirk (2000, pp. 153-154) so
poignantly observe:
Between 1990 and 1994 South Africa roller-coastered between the highs of political agreements
to the lows of countless massacres and levels of violence in a land already scorched by
bloodshed [...] The nature of political violence was transformed from a primarily overt conflict
between the regime and the forces of liberation, to a more entangled fight among a variety of
players with disparate motives, tactics and objectives.
Indeed, during the early 1990s, South Africa experienced what many political commentators referred
to as a low-intensity war within black residential areas, particularly in the Gauteng and KwaZulu-Natal
provinces of South Africa (cf. Coleman, 1994). Virtually on a daily basis the news media were filled
with reports of bomb blasts, internecine battles in townships, and the assassination of influential
political figures. Most of the victims of these incidents were black.
It is frequently posited that the serious social and political dislocations caused by political violence
(and for that matter, all forms of collective violence) allow for the expression of various other forms of
violence (Simpson, 1993). This certainly appears to have been the case in South Africa between
1990 and 1994, with reports of dramatic increases in child abuse, homicide, violence against women
and incidents of taxi violence, particularly within black communities (Duncan & Rock, 1997; Penn-
Kekana, 1997; Simpson, 1993). For example, Simpson (1993) recorded an increase of nearly 6000
criminally motivated murders from 1991 to 1992 (i.e. from 14 693 in 1991, to 20 135 in 1992).
While the effects of the violence that came to characterise this period were certainly not any more
pernicious than other forms of political violence that characterised South Africa prior to the 1990s, the
expression of this violence was so excessively brutal and unpredictable that it led many to fear that,
just as the fruits of the extended struggle against apartheid (i.e. non-racial democracy) came within
sight, South Africa was slipping inexorably into the abyss of civil warfare and anarchy. Moreover, the
11

fact that the origins and logic of this wave of violence were not readily apparent (Simpson, 1993)
reinforced fears that it would be impossible to arrest its escalation (Knox & Quirk, 2000).
Many political analysts typified this wave of political violence as `black on black' violence.
Furthermore, because it often involved members of the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) and the ANC, it
was frequently characterised as a party political battle for supremacy on the South African political
landscape. However, the fact that this violence spread beyond what were considered IFP and ANC
strongholds called this characterisation into question (Knox & Quirk, 2000). Indeed, many analysts
suggested that it was instigated by various right-wing groups, as well as by conservative elements
within the apartheid government and its security establishment in an effort to ensure that white
political domination would continue after the 1994 elections (Coleman, 1994; Knox & Quirk, 2000;
Zulu, 1994). As Coleman (1994, p. 143) argued, the ``major players in this violence'' could only have
been ``those who had most to lose the apartheid government [and] the security establishment''. To a
certain extent, this perception in fact found some resonance and justification in the following
observation contained in the Second Interim Report of the Goldstone Commission of Inquiry into
Public Violence:
A police force and army which, for many decades have been used as instruments of oppression
by successive white governments in maintaining a society predicated upon racial segregation. A
history over some years of state complicity in undercover activities which include criminal conduct.
Those activities have enabled critics of the government and others, fairly or unfairly, to place the
blame for much of the violence at the door of the security forces. That and the well-documented
criminal conduct of members of the South African Police and the KwaZulu Police exacerbate the
perception of many South Africans that the government or its agencies are active parties
responsible for the violence (Goldstone, cited in Zulu, 1994, p. 154).
However, other commentators have argued somewhat more persuasively that rather than being
attributable to a single factor, this violence was more likely to have been a result of a complex
interaction of sinister forces within the apartheid state, political brinkmanship, provocateurism from
many quarters, the scarcity of resources, unemployment, and sheer criminal opportunism (Knox &
Quirk, 2000; Simpson, 1993).
Nonetheless, whatever the causes of this violence, the loss of human life and the physical and
psychological scars that it gave rise to were staggering. According to the National Children's Rights
Commission (NCRC) (1994), between 1990 and 1993, some 45 000 children were displaced as a
result of political violence in South Africa's Gauteng and KwaZulu-Natal provinces alone.
Furthermore, during the period spanning 1990 and 1994, an estimated 12 000 people were killed 2 ,
20 000 were injured and 30 000 were arrested as a result of political violence (Coleman, 1994;
Duncan & Rock, 1997).
Obviously, the figures provided above should not be allowed to shroud or play down the devastating
impact of the various forms of political violence that characterised the period preceding 1990. In fact,
disaggregating the violence of the interregnum of 1990 to 1994 from its socially disruptive historical
antecedents would not only be a-historical, but also misleading. Very importantly too, we should
guard against perceiving these statistics as offering a sufficiently representative portrayal of the range
and extent of the political violence that typified the early 1990s, for they do not (cf. Simpson, 1993).
12

Statistics on pre-1994 political violence: Partial at best
The statistics contained in this article, like the many other similar extant compendia of statistical data
collected by various researchers over the years cannot even begin to convey the full extent and
range of the collective violence that South Africa witnessed during the pre-1994 era. This is partly a
result of the fact that much of the statistical information on political violence during the pre-1994
period, at best, merely presents informed approximations of the extent and nature of the political
violence that characterised the apartheid order (Simpson, 1994). As many researchers will readily
admit, it was virtually impossible to obtain reliable and comprehensive statistical information of any
sort, particularly on political violence, during the apartheid era. There were many reasons for this, key
of which are as follows.
First, the `culture of secrecy' cultivated and perpetuated by the apartheid state, particularly prior to
1990s, resulted in the routine concealment or suppression of what the state held out as `politically
sensitive' information. This resulted in the distortion of much of the available statistical data on
political violence (Duncan & Rock, 1997). Indeed, various researchers have demonstrated how
official statistics were routinely recorded and represented by the apartheid state in a manner that
systematically underplayed or minimised the full extent of the impact of Ð state-inspired Ð political
violence (Duncan & Rock, 1997). For example, Fourie (in Duncan & Rock, 1997) maintains that in
the reports routinely released by the state on the numbers of child detainees in state facilities,
statistics related to children detained for periods shorter than one month were regularly omitted,
which significantly decreased the number of child detainees reflected in government records.
The second reason for the inadequacy of pre-1994 statistics on political violence identified by Madela
and Poggenpoel (in Duncan & Rock, 1997) is that South African researchers generally were relatively
reluctant to undertake any research which would have exposed the violence and other excesses of
the apartheid state, as this had the potential to expose them to the wrath of the state and its security
apparatus. Cases such as that involving the cold-blooded assassination of the University of the
Witwatersrand academic, David Webster 3 (Amnesty International, 1992; Nott, 1994), indicates that
the apartheid state and its agents dealt extremely ruthlessly with those researchers whom it
considered to be a threat to the status quo.
The third reason was linked to the extent of the violence that characterised the apartheid era.
According to Mkhize (1993), the extremely high levels of collective violence in apartheid South Africa,
together with other forms of violence, led to fairly high levels of ``violence tolerance'' (p. 7) in South
African society. This desensitisation to and, to a certain extent, `naturalisation' of violence effectively
led to significant under-reporting of the incidence of collective violence in general, and political
violence specifically (Duncan & Rock, 1993).
Nonetheless, no matter how comprehensive the available statistical information may be, and despite
its proven utility, such information can never tell the full story; simply because it can never adequately
describe the incalculable social and psychological costs of collective violence (Simpson, 1993). For
example, statistics cannot describe the pain that many families endured on learning of the death of
one or more of their members at the hands of the apartheid government's security forces or vigilante
groups, nor can it really describe the harm done to millions of black children who were condemned to
a life of poverty and deprivation directly as a result of apartheid. Statistics can certainly not convey
13

the despair experienced by parents forced to watch their children wasting away as a result of
preventable illnesses and malnutrition. Statistics also would not be able to capture the sense of loss
and destitution that so many South Africans must undoubtedly have experienced on witnessing their
homes flattened by apartheid's bulldozers to make way for white residential areas. Statistical data
alone would also not be able to capture the terror that many child political detainees must have
experienced on being thrown into prison with hardened criminals for indefinite periods of time.
Statistical data certainly also would not be able to describe the marks left on the psyche of
generations of people as a result of their quotidian exposure to the patent malignancy of the racist
prejudice, vilification and persecution engendered by apartheid.
Very importantly too, as Simpson (1993, p. 3) notes, as useful as statistical data may be:
It could be argued that the picture which is painted in statistical terms has the ironic effect of
numbing us to the human suffering which statistics ostensibly convey Ð instead of guiding us in
the development of the remedial and preventative steps which need to be taken.
Manifestations of collective violence in post-apartheid South Africa
With its first non-racial democratic national elections in April 1994, South Africa entered a new period
in its history. In the words of Knox and Quirk (2000, p. 177), these elections were not so much ``a
victory for individual political parties'' as a triumph of democracy over the institutionalised and
genocidal violence of the apartheid order.
On reading this statement by Knox and Quirk (2000), we obviously have to ask ourselves whether we
have really triumphed over the political violence intrinsic to apartheid. The inadequacy of the
available statistical information makes an unequivocal response to this question difficult.
Nonetheless, if by political violence, we are merely referring to the gruesome incidents of police,
military, right-wing and vigilante violence that characterised South African society until 1994, then
certainly South Africa, for the moment, has triumphed over the collective violence intrinsic to the
apartheid order. For example, after 1994, instances of right-wing, vigilante and other forms of political
violence decreased substantially (Alence, 1999; SAIRR, 1999). Specifically, Alence (1999) found that
while, on average, 3000 people were killed per year directly as a result of political violence during the
1990 to 1994 period, the average number of political fatalities for the period 1995 to 1997 was
approximately 75% lower than the 1990 to 1994 period. While there was a brief upsurge in reported
incidents of political violence at the time of the 1999 general elections, with various political leaders
(particularly from the United Democratic Movement) losing their lives, in general, there has been a
consistent downward trend in political violence since 1994 (Alence, 1999). Nonetheless, as was
amply illustrated at the beginning of this century, the possibility of a resurgence of organised violence
from white supremacist right-wing groups remains an ever-present threat (Nkuta & Boyle, 2002;
Potgieter, 2002).
Furthermore, the ongoing reports of vigilante violence in opposition to the high levels of crime that
have come to characterise South African society speaks to South Africans' easy resort to violence as
a means to solving socio-political problems (Dixon & Johns, 2001; SAIRR, 1999). Certainly, vigilante
action is most frequently represented (both by the media and the state) as fundamentally criminal in
14

intent and consequence. However, the fact that, in this country, much of the criminal activity against
which vigilante violence is directed is, in part, a result of past political practices; the fact that the
perception exists that crime has reached the levels that it has because of the actions or inaction of
the political elite (Alence, 1999; Alence & Pimstone, 1999); as well as the fact that the current high
levels of crime in South Africa are frequently harnessed as a rallying point by political parties
(particularly on the right of the political spectrum), in essence, renders such vigilante violence
potentially political in nature (Alence, 1999).
Moreover, if our definition of political violence includes Bulhan's (1985) notion of structural violence,
then certainly South Africa has been less than successful in dealing with the violence of apartheid.
Recent research indicates that the racialised poverty trends and institutionalised systems of privilege
established under the apartheid order are still firmly entrenched. For example, research undertaken
by May, Woolard and Klasen (2000) indicate that blacks, and particularly Africans, continue to be
significantly over-represented amongst the poorest sectors of South African society, with 61.7% and
38.2% of Africans and `coloureds', respectively, being poor, as opposed to 1% of whites. Along
similar lines, Foer (1997) found that, by the latter half of the 1990s, the income of the average black
person was approximately one-sixth that of his or her white counterpart.
In 1996, two years after the installation of South Africa's first democratic government, more than 1
million African households were still accommodated in informal or squatter dwellings, as opposed to
912 white households (SAIRR, 2000). Furthermore, available statistics indicate that while the infant
mortality rate for whites currently stands at 7 per 100 000, it is 54 per 100 000 for Africans.
Additionally, while the life expectancy for white women and men is 76 and 69 years, respectively, it is
67 and 69 years for African women and men, respectively (Budlender, 2000). Furthermore, May et
al.'s (2000) research indicates that while whites score fairly high (and on a par with Canadians, for
example) on the United Nations Development Programme's Human Development Index (HDI),
Africans have a fairly low rating on the HDI Ð lower in fact than that of the national average of a
country as poor as Swaziland. In effect, as South Africa's President, Thabo Mbeki, has so
persuasively argued, South Africa comprises two nations, one enjoying standards of living
comparable to those of many industrialised countries, and one enduring standards of living
comparable to those of countries inordinately poorer than South Africa.
Measures employed by the post-apartheid government to deal with political
violence and its effects
Following the euphoria of the 1994 elections, the newly installed government of national unity
introduced various interventions aimed at addressing the political violence discussed in the preceding
pages. I will very briefly consider two of these interventions here, namely, the South African Truth and
Reconciliation Commission (TRC) and the Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP).
Established by means of the Promotion of National Unity and Reconciliation Act (Act 34) of 1995
(Cassin et al., 2004), the TRC's primary brief was to provide as ``complete a picture as possible of the
nature, causes and extent of gross human rights violations committed during apartheid'' (Knox &
Quirk, 2000, p. 178). One of the key implicit objectives of the TRC was to ``allow South Africans to
15

transcend the social divisions and tensions engineered by the past apartheid order'' (Magwaza,
2001, p. 37), and thereby to add to initiatives aimed at national reconciliation and at minimising the
possibility of future collective conflict and national instability.
One of the RDP's primary objectives was to contribute to the elimination of some of the key racialised
inequalities characteristic of South African society (Knox & Quirk, 2000; Rabbani, 1994; RDP White
Paper, 1994). Consequently, access to adequate housing, employment, educational and health care
facilities, and the overall state of the economy featured amongst the key problem areas that the RDP
was to address. For obvious reasons, most indigent and marginalised black communities welcomed
the programme.
Knox and Quirk (2000) point out that in the initial documentation on the RDP, the link between the
racialised inequalities in South African society and the potential for collective violence or instability
was articulated as one of the key motives for the establishment of the RDP (cf. Rabbani, 1994;
Tshotsho, 2005).
To what extent have these interventions succeeded in dealing with the collective
violence generated by apartheid?
The Truth and Reconciliation Commission
From the outset the conceptualisation, scope and functioning of the TRC were subjected to intense
criticism from various quarters because of their inherent shortcomings (Derrida, 2004; Knox & Quirk,
2000; Magwaza, 2001; SAIRR, 1999; see Stevens in this issue). In a critical reflection on the TRC,
John Daniels (in Knox & Quirk, 2000), the TRC head of research in Durban, identified two of the
more important of these shortcomings. The first was related to the time frame covered by the TRC,
and the second to the definition of `gross human rights violations'.
According to Daniels, the fact that the TRC's brief was limited to examining only those atrocities
committed between 1960 and 1994, meant that some of the worst acts of political violence committed
by the apartheid state effectively fell beyond the scrutiny of this institution. In the process, therefore, a
sufficiently comprehensive examination and analysis of the extent and impact of the various forms of
political violence engendered by apartheid, for all intents and purposes, were precluded (cf. Cassin et
al., 2004). Secondly, Daniels (in Knox & Quirk, 2000, p. 179) argues, the narrow definition of gross
human rights violations as ``the killing, abduction, torture or severe ill-treatment of any person or any
attempt, conspiracy, incitement, instigation, command or procurement to commit an act of killing,
abduction, torture or severe ill-treatment'', precluded not only the examination of all the variants of
political violence spawned by apartheid, but also of the system of apartheid itself as a crime against
humanity (cf. Cassin et al., 2004).
Both these limitations, together with the widespread belief amongst many marginalised black
communities (particularly those with less `sensational' or `mediatisable' stories to tell) that the TRC
processes further marginalised them, obviously undermined the potential of the TRC to serve as a
vehicle for reconciliation (Dixon & Johns, 2001). Furthermore, the perception on the part of many
whites that the TRC was prejudiced against whites and persecutory (Knox & Quirk, 2000), obviously
16

also substantially decreased the possibility that they would take ownership of and responsibility for
their history, thereby decreasing the remembrance and reconciliatory functions of the TRC (cf.
Duvenage, 1994; Simpson, 1994).
Magwaza (2001) argues that the acknowledgement of the history of intense violence visited on
blacks and opponents of the apartheid system for the benefit of whites was important, not only to
signal a break with the ``ethos of secrecy and silence'' that was so viciously imposed on South
Africans by the former apartheid government, but also to prevent ``a recurrence of human rights
violations to the horrific extent that we had witnessed during the apartheid era'' (Magwaza, 2001, p.
37).
Along similar lines, Knox and Quirk (2000) argue that the fact that the TRC did not allow for a full
recovery or disclosure of past atrocities committed against large sectors of South African society (cf.
Dixon & Johns, 2001), to a certain extent, does in fact open the way for attempts to deny and distort
the violence of apartheid. This then creates the possibility for many whites, who now defensively
reason that nothing wrong had occurred in the past or that apartheid was `simply an ill-conceived
political system that had gone wrong', to feel that current processes aimed at redressing the damage
caused by apartheid are unfair to them (Duvenage, 1994; Simpson, 1993). Duvenage identifies a
range of reasons for this ``evasiveness'' or defensiveness on the part of whites, including fear of
confronting the atrocities of the past and abject racism.
Whatever the causes may be for this denial of the violence of apartheid, it is indisputable that it
contributes significantly to a discursive context in which it becomes easy for political and social
conservatism and white right-wing political violence (inter alia) to be justified, as was amply illustrated
on various radio talk shows and in newspaper reports following the bombings in Soweto on the
outskirts of Johannesburg, and Bronkhorstspruit in the province of Mpumalanga, allegedly
perpetrated by right-wing supremacist groups at the end of 2002 (cf. Potgieter, 2002). Consider here,
for example, the following article published by Associated Press (Nessman, 2002, n.p.):
While the violence is condemned by all but the most extreme Afrikaners, many say it should send
a message to the black-led government that it can no longer ignore their problems [...] ``There is a
lot of frustration,'' said Pieter Mulder, leader of the right wing Freedom Front party. ``Slowly, we are
losing out [...] I must be honest and say that we are moving in the wrong direction.'' [...] A poll
published this year ... said 87 percent of Afrikaners felt racism against them was a serious
problem.
This leads to one of the principal arguments that I want to put forward here.
The unwillingness and inability on the part of many South Africans to acknowledge and deal with one
of the most violent epochs in its history, namely the apartheid era, precludes any possibility of
genuine reconciliation amongst South Africans, and consequently, allows for the perpetuation of the
deep divisions in South African society (Duvenage, 1994). In the process, the door is left wide open
for the repetition or re-enactment of various forms of political violence. Yes, the statistics indicate that
with the advent of the current democratic dispensation political violence had decreased substantially
(Alence, 1999). However, through the amnesia that has been allowed to develop in respect of South
17

Africa's violent past, a space has perhaps been created for such violence to be re-inflicted on this
country. In the words of Desmond Tutu, the Chairperson of the TRC:
The ... reason amnesia simply will not do is that the past refuses to lie down quietly. It has an
uncanny habit of returning to haunt one ... the past [must be] properly dealt with for the sake of the
future (in Grunebaum-Ralph, 2001, p. 202).
The Reconstruction and Development Programme
Knox and Quirk (2000) argue that from the outset, the RDP was hard pressed to balance the need to
eliminate the racialised inequalities in South African society, whilst ensuring minimal loss of economic
privileges within the white community. Additionally, it had to satisfy the demands of global capital to
limit social expenditure. By 1996, however, it became clear that, for a range of reasons, the
government was not going to meet many of the RDP's targets within the envisaged time period; and
during the same year, the RDP office was closed down (cf. Economist, 1996; Government Gazette
No. 19403, 1998; Knox & Quirk, 2000). This was a heavy blow to the aspirations of many poor
communities. Responding to the closure of the RDP office, Interfund (1996, in Knox & Quirk, 2000, p.
187) noted:
The symbolic importance of the RDP office as representative of the government's commitment to
development has meant that the closure [of the office] is read as a signal that the government was
now giving less visibility and focus to issues concerning development and more of a focus to the
business of economics.
The government's subsequent focus on its macro economic plan, namely, the Growth, Employment
and Redistributive Strategy (GEAR), with its strong emphasis on fiscal conservatism and, therefore,
on downscaling social spending, reinforced the growing impression that the basic developmental and
corrective action values underlying the formulation of the RDP in fact had been relinquished (Knox &
Quirk, 2000).
With the apparent abandonment of the `equalising' principles of the RDP (Knox & Quirk, 2000), as
well as the fact that the racialised poverty trends established during the apartheid era on the surface
continue unaltered, it can be argued that the structural violence of apartheid remains firmly
embedded in South African society. Thus, even though the statistics indicate that incidents of overt
physical acts of political violence had decreased, at the level of `everyday practices' (cf. Bulhan,
1985), it is continuing unabated, and in the process, further entrenching the divisions within South
African society and laying the foundations for the re-emergence of the forms of overt political violence
which this country hopes that it had buried in its past.
Certainly, there is a range of noteworthy achievements that are associated with the TRC and the
RDP. However, for the reasons outlined in this article and elsewhere (e.g. Knox & Quirk, 2000;
Magwaza, 2001; SAIRR, 1999), these interventions have fallen short of what was required to address
the ills inflicted by apartheid on South African society. Furthermore, the fact that the violence of the
past has not been dealt with adequately obviously leaves this country vulnerable to various new
manifestations of violence (particularly political violence) in the future. If the recent spate of violent
protests against the shameful lack of accommodation and municipal services experienced by indigent
18

communities is anything to go by (see, for example, Johnson, 2005; SAPA, 2005) we are already
seeing concrete evidence of this.
CONCLUSION
In a first instance, this article has attempted to illustrate that the statistics that we are wont to rely on
frequently only present a partial glimpse of the phenomena that we wish to analyse and lay bare.
Second, the article has attempted to provide a cursory examination of the two key interventions
initiated by the post-apartheid government to deal with the violence of this country's past and present.
While the link between the two substantive strands in this article is perhaps not sufficiently clearly
articulated, and while this article is still very much a `work in progress', I hope that it will in some way
contribute to extant discussions and debate on issues of collective violence and, more specifically, of
political violence.
NOTES
1. In this article, the term ``black'' is used as a collective term designating all those groups classified
as `Indian' `Bantu/African' and coloured' and who, as a consequence, were relegated to a
subaltern status by the apartheid state. Given the diversity of all human groups, it goes without
saying that while it might be expedient to employ the term ``black'' here, the group designated by
the term should not be considered homogeneous.
2. Compared to an estimated 3500 political fatalities for the period 1984 to 1989.
3. Shortly before his death, David Webster had published an article on government-sponsored
`death squads' and other forms of covert repression in South Africa (Amnesty International, 1992).
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22

TRUTH, CONFESSIONS AND
REPARATIONS: LESSONS FROM THE
SOUTH AFRICAN TRUTH AND
RECONCILIATION COMMISSION
Garth Stevens 1
Institute for Social and Health Sciences, University of South Africa
ABSTRACT
Collective violence in the form of war, state-sponsored acts of terror and institutionalised human
rights violations, continue to be centrally implicated in the high rates of death and disability across the
globe in contemporary societies. Alongside this recognition we have witnessed the development of
ongoing economic, political and social initiatives aimed at preventing collective forms of violence and
conflicts, and mediating against their long-term impacts and effects. To this end, post-conflict
commissions have become a fairly well-established psychological, social and political institutional
mechanism to address past atrocities; one of the most acclaimed exemplars is the South African
Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC). This article reflects on the South African TRC, and
highlights the challenges that it has faced in meeting three pivotal aims, namely the eliciting of truth,
acting as a facilitating space for confessions related to human rights violations, and effecting
reparative processes for the victims of such acts of violence. The article notes that while the TRC
may be considered a success in the context of post-apartheid nation-building it falls short as a
comprehensive strategy for just reconstruction in post-conflict contexts, since it tends to contribute to
the construction of a notion of social healing without significant forms of social justice embedded
within it.
This article explores some of the salient lessons and challenges emerging from the South African
Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), as a strategy for peacemaking and peacebuilding in
post-apartheid South Africa. Given that a great deal has been written on the TRC, including a focus
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
1 Please direct all correspondence to Garth Stevens, Institute for Social and Health Sciences, University of South Africa, P.O. Box 1087, Lenasia, 1820,
Johannesburg, South Africa; Tel: +27 11 857 1142; Fax: +27 11 857 1770; E-mail: Steveg@unisa.ac.za.
23

on the psychology of the Commission (Hamber, 1995a, 1995b; SAJP, 2000), the complicity of various
sectors of South African society under apartheid (see Baldwin-Ragaven, de Gruchy & London, 1999,
Magwaza, 2001), the methodologies employed within the process (Bundy, 2000), and reparations
and nation-building after the TRC (James & van der Vijver, 2000; Motsemme & Ratele, 2002),
several broad lessons can be drawn about the merits and limitations inherent to the TRC.
As a broad social intervention the TRC represents, on the one hand, a successful approach to
nation-building in the context of post-conflict transitionary societies (Villa-Vicencio, 2000). On the
other hand, it could be argued that the TRC's contributions to constructing a homogenous national
unity and a non-`racial' 1 democracy occurred at the expense of economic, social and psychological
reparations to the majority of South Africans (van der Walt, Franchi & Stevens, 2003). While the
extent to which the TRC was able to facilitate the revelation of gross human rights by individuals and
various institutionalised sectors of South African society during apartheid is a credit to this process,
its ideological orientation, structure and procedural form, methodological approach and philosophical
underpinnings often hamstrung its potential as a tool to comprehensively address social justice in
post-apartheid South Africa. This article specifically explores the structural constraints of the TRC,
the ambiguities related to subjective and objective understandings of memory and histories, and the
challenges related to amnesty, reparations (or non-reparations) and social justice. Furthermore, I
query the extent to which national unity has been forged by the TRC in South Africa since 1994, and
examine whether the TRC has in fact contributed to the consolidation of a post-apartheid `racialised'
social formation through structurally containing social blaming, demands for reparations and justice
for atrocities committed during apartheid, and by avoiding issues related to the consequential
inequalities and human rights violations of apartheid. Finally, the article argues that when such
peacemaking and peacebuilding initiatives are adopted in other contexts, we need to be aware of
their ideological limitations and actively encourage that they operate within the frameworks of
international law, human rights and social justice in order to maximise their benefits for broad sectors
of societies emerging from conflicts.
THE TRC AS A PEACEMAKING AND PEACEBUILDING STRATEGY
As one of the outcomes of the negotiated settlement between the dominant political powers that had
reached a stalemate by 1990, the South African TRC emerged as a peacemaking and peacebuilding
strategy. Suffla's work (2004) provides an instructive synopsis on the inter-related strategies of
peacemaking and peacebuilding and is reflected upon below. She argues that peacemaking is
directed at reducing the occurrence and intensity of direct violence and involves a range of
preventative methods. Given that peacemaking is underpinned by the concept of conflict resolution, it
is responsive to the values of peace, non-violence, empathy, utilises methods that promote dialogue,
mutually beneficial outcomes, and acknowledges the influence of the social context within which
conflict is located (see also Sanson & Bretherton, 2001; Wessells and Monteiro, 2001, cited in Suffla,
2004). While peacemaking therefore appears to be unproblematic at a conceptual level, when
applied to truth commissions as a broad socio-political and psychosocial intervention, it immediately
raises certain tensions that may compromise the effectiveness of truth commissions to deliver on
their implicit aims. Several authors (Crawford, 2000; de la Rey, 2001; Lederach, 1997) have noted
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that some of the key psychosocial imperatives that are identified as needing to be met in the
aftermath of violent social conflict are the promotion of reconciliation and reconstruction. Here,
reconciliation, truth, forgiveness and healing are foregrounded as being critical subjective elements to
peacemaking, as they involve the recognition of victims' pain, an acknowledgement of wrongdoing by
perpetrators, a willingness to acknowledge the truth, as well as a desire to offer and accept
forgiveness (Suffla, 2004). Some of the immediate political, ideological and philosophical questions
that have however been raised by these assumptions are of course: Whose truth (and consequently,
which history)? Reconciliation at what cost, especially if social justice and reconstruction are absent
and if the balance of power is skewed between conflicting parties? Is forgiveness a social process or
an individual process and can truth commissions facilitate this at a broad social level? Is the
comprehensive attainment of these aims not dependent on the absence of a dominant hegemonic
political discourse, or on political neutrality, and can truth commissions ever be politically neutral?
Despite these questions and concerns, it is evident that the South African TRC did manage to fulfil
some of these key imperatives associated with peacemaking, even if not fully.
Suffla (2004) also suggests that unlike peacemaking, peacebuilding is the process that attempts to
address structural violence in its various forms of social domination, political oppression and
economic exploitation, and is therefore directed at the creation of material conditions conducive to
social transformation, structural reconstruction, and the transformation of discourses that maintain
oppression and exploitation. Through this process, a more critical discourse and consciousness is
generated that not only challenges a conflictual status quo, but also squarely argues for peace to
transcend the mere prevention and resolution of conflict, and to incorporate issues of social justice
(Christie, 2001, cited in Suffla, 2004). More importantly, peacebuilding is ultimately directed at the
creation of a social order that represents the antithesis of a conflictual status quo. Therefore, it is
apparent that peacemaking and peacebuilding often occur simultaneously in their social application
(Christie, Wagner & Winter, 2001). Peacebuilding efforts frequently begin to occur prior to
peacemaking initiatives, and in fact often inform them. They may also occur during peacemaking
initiatives, and continue to occur as an integral part of social transformation thereafter (Suffla, 2004).
However, the construct of peacebuilding raises certain critical questions as to truth commissions'
ability to fulfil such colossal social tasks. When peacebuilding discourses become formalised and
embedded in newdispensations, to what extent can they retain critical independence or political
neutrality? Can they be critical of the newor emergent status quo, or do they act in its service? To
what extent is their ability to foster an alternative culture shaped by their emergence from a specific
social and political context? While much of the TRC's work in South Africa can certainly be seen as
peacemaking, the expanse of time over which it operated certainly served the function of shaping
and consolidating a discourse of nation-building in post-apartheid South Africa, and thus can also be
seen as a peacebuilding strategy. However, the degree to which it has successfully acted as a
peacebuilding initiative is dealt with at length, later in the article.
THE SOCIO-HISTORICAL CONTEXT OF THE SOUTH AFRICAN TRC
While a great deal of international attention has focused on the South African TRC and its successes
and/or failures, the actual concept of truth commissions emerged in the 1970s in Uganda, and gained
25

greater prominence in Latin America in the 1980s. Generally, truth commissions are official agencies
that are sponsored by governments and/or international organisations to formally investigate and
report on human rights violations that occur in specific countries or regions that have endured a
period of social conflict. Truth commissions provide a forum for victims, relatives and even
perpetrators wishing to give testimony and evidence of human rights abuses, thereby offering
psychological closure to those who experienced tragedies, and an account for past abuses. Truth
commissions provide recommendations to prevent similar acts from recurring in future and aim to
stimulate national reconciliation. After the first truth commission in 1974 in Uganda, several other
countries employed this process, namely, the National Commission on the Disappeared in Argentina
in 1983, the National Commission for Truth and Reconciliation in Chile in 1991, the Commission of
Inquiry in Chad in 1992, and the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission in 1998. While
the South African TRC certainly drew on the Latin American examples to help shape its form and
processes, there were various socio-historical factors and political imperatives that impacted on the
choice, outcomes and effectiveness of the TRC as a peacemaking and peacebuilding strategy.
The socio-political condition pre-dating the TRC in South Africa was one in which the ruling National
Party, on the one hand, was unable to effect a victory over an increasingly militant resistance to the
apartheid system from the liberation movement. In addition to this, the backdrop of sanctions and a
flailing political economy rendered it impossible for the apartheid state to sustain its escalated
oppression. The resistance movements, on the other hand, were unable to initiate a comprehensive
revolution against the apartheid state for a range of objective and subjective political reasons.
The National Party's choice of institutionalised racism, as embodied in the 1948 apartheid policy, was
due to cumulative factors, but was extremely functional to the development of capitalism in South
Africa. The segregationist policies were partly a result of the historical development of `race' and
class since the onset of colonialism in South Africa, and directly related to the attempt to promote
Afrikaner Nationalism and the interests of Afrikaner capital against international capital (Terreblanche
& Nattrass, 1990). While the social impacts of these racist policies have been well-documented (see
for example Terreblanche & Nattrass, 1990; Wolpe, 1988), the most important consideration for the
segregationist choice in 1948 was clearly an economic one. As the largest producer of gold, South
Africa was clearly able to compete on the international capitalist market. Nevertheless, it did not
possess the technological expertise and capital goods necessary to compete with major
industrialised countries, with regard to a wide range of commodities. The only option for South
African capital was therefore to compensate for this through the exploitation of cheap black labour.
Apartheid policy was not only functional to capitalist development, but was imperative to its
integration into the world capitalist economy. Protectionist strategies to realise the dream of
Volkskapitalisme became redundant, as Afrikaner capital and international capital became
increasingly integrated (Callinicos, 1987; O'Meara, 1983).
Apartheid capitalism flourished in the boom following the Second World War. Its incorporation into the
world capitalist economy allowed it to benefit from the high growth rate experienced globally, but by
the 1960s obvious signals appeared to highlight the fact that apartheid was becoming an obstacle to
further capitalist development. Internal political instability and resistance from the liberation
movements, South Africa's exclusion from the Commonwealth and the United Nations Arms
embargo, all resulted in an immense withdrawal of international capital from South Africa in the mid-
26

1960s (Saul, 1986). By the 1970s, international capitalism was in an ever-deepening recession, and
this impacted on South Africa as well (Alexander, 1985). An organic economic and social crisis arose
internally in South Africa, because of the contradictions existing between the systems of racist
domination and capitalist exploitation. Even though racism had been functional, and imperative to
capitalist accumulation in South Africa, it had reached a ceiling in its utility. Apartheid policy could no
longer ensure the long-term interests of both national and international capital (Saul, 1986). The
social crisis of apartheid capitalism resulted in greater internal opposition to the system of racist
domination by the liberation movements, as well as repressive state responses, and created a
political climate of instability. In addition, the large black working class had begun to organise itself
into significant trade unions, and had strong links to the liberation movements. Internationally, this
was supported by the growing anti-apartheid and pro-sanctions lobbies, and international investors
became more and more reluctant to gamble on the fragile South African political economy
(Alexander, 1985; Saul, 1986; Wolpe, 1988).
Political reforms implemented by the apartheid state were met with intense opposition from the
liberation movements in the 1970s and the 1980s. Student, trade union and community-based
struggles all escalated during this time, and culminated in the period of ungovernability in the 1980s
(Brecker, 1994).
The Congress Alliance (i.e. the African National Congress and its affiliates, the South African
Communist Party and the Congress of South African Trade Unions) had become hegemonic within
the liberation movements, and their political strategy was aimed primarily at the dismantling of the
apartheid political apparatus. This was partly a result of strong nationalist ideologies that dominated
the political agenda of the Alliance and informed its perspective of the National Question in South
Africa as being related to `race' and less so to the interface between `race' and class. However, an
impasse between the liberation movements and the state occurred, as neither could gain an outright
victory over the other. The collapse of the Soviet Union and the Eastern European Bloc represented
an ideological victory for international capitalism. It was at this point that capital took the initiative, and
through the National Party, entered into a Negotiated Settlement with the liberation movement Ð in
particular, the Congress Alliance (Brecker, 1994). In addition, the resistance movements could no
longer rely on sustainable funding and unconditional political assistance from international
supporters, and their leadership found themselves dispersed nationally, in exile and languishing in
apartheid jails.
The settlement essentially involved the transition towards a non-`racial' democracy, through which
South African capitalism would be restructured without the structural obstacles of apartheid, and
would be given a new lease of life. The result of this process was the first democratic elections in
April 1994, which saw an overwhelming victory for the African National Congress (Brecker, 1994).
There was also an agreement to share power for the first five years of the transitional democracy,
within a free-market framework. Minority rights were retained and white civil servants were allowed to
retain their positions in the state bureaucratic structures. Amnesty was promised to all activists,
politicians and soldiers, with the proviso that full disclosures be made with regard to their
contributions to gross human rights violations and atrocities. It was out of this context that the South
African TRC was born.
27

The TRC certainly acted as a public peacemaking strategy that facilitated the recall and mourning of
a repressive and oppressive history in South Africa. It could also be argued that it was deeply
embedded within the politics of negotiation, and allowed for a containing, structured environment and
process for the victims of repression and oppression to voice their experiences without resorting to
retributive justice often associated with purges and trials in post-conflict contexts. Perpetrators of
gross human rights violations were offered amnesty in return for full disclosures of atrocities Ð a quid
pro quo process in which perpetrators were protected from retributive justice in return for assistance
in providing an account of atrocities that was likely to be initially contested, but would then hopefully
become implicitly accepted as a collectively shared truth and history. Thus, the TRC represented
itself as a structure that protected the rights of all groups in South Africa equally, if certain conditions
were met, and was one embodiment of the political compromise of the political settlement. In this
sense, the TRC may be characterised as attempting to fulfil a more restorative role that is
interrogated later in this article. It was furthermore embedded in the politics of nationalism that had
characterised both apartheid and hegemonic liberatory politics prior to the settlement. The TRC was
infused with notions of nation-building, the new South Africa and the rainbownation. It is therefore
fairly clear that the TRC was not a politically neutral structure or process, but reflected the political
histories of the major role players in the settlement, as well as the imperatives associated with the
transition from apartheid to non-`racial' capitalist democracy.
The TRC also acted as a peacebuilding strategy for those who envisaged the role of the new South
Africa to become increasingly integrated into the regional, continental and international economic and
political arenas. It was critical to develop a stable socio-political structure that would attract foreign
investment, and offer long-term stability through the avoidance of high profile trials, purges and civil
conflict. The state's self-imposed structural adjustment programme in the form of GEAR (Growth,
Employment and Redistribution), strict fiscal discipline, the abandonment of the Reconstruction and
Development Programme (RDP), a mechanism of aid to the poor, and the TRC helped facilitate the
construction of a politically, socially and economically viable South Africa ready for incorporation into
the global economy. For those who viewed these elements as the key imperatives facing postapartheid
South Africa, the TRC was certainly a critical peacebuilding element that avoided
addressing the contentious issues of land and wealth redistribution. So the settlement was
characterised by costly political compromises and, as Marais (1998) notes, by costly economic and
social compromises as well. Bundy (2000) suggests that the African National Congress (ANC)
strategically retreated from addressing these and other contentious socioeconomic issues in order to
ensure that the society could be sustained through the transition from apartheid to non-`racial'
capitalism/democracy, while Adam and Adam (2000) argue that one of the reasons for consciously
glossing over certain contentious issues is the desire to draw upon the infrastructure and skills of the
previous regime for the benefit of the future (van der Walt et al., 2003).
While it would be remiss to reflect exclusively on the TRC as a mere tool that was politically and
ideologically manipulated, thereby denying its own agency and positive contributions, it is apparent
that as a peacemaking and peacebuilding strategy, the TRC was rooted within a very particular
political and ideological discourse that would ultimately influence its outcome and impact. This can be
more carefully identified within the form and processes of the TRC, and it is to this that we now turn
our attention.
28

LEGALISED STRUCTURE AND PROCEDURAL FORM OF THE TRC
The promulgation of the Promotion of National Unity and Reconciliation Bill in 1995 formalised a 17-
member commission to facilitate a truth and recovery process aimed at reconciliation (Suffla, 2004).
The mandate of the TRC, as a statutory agent of national unity and reconciliation, was to:
. establish as complete a picture as possible of the nature, causes and extent of past gross human
rights violations;
. provide reparation and rehabilitation to victims of abuse;
. grant amnesty to perpetrators of human rights abuses who offered full disclosure about the crimes
that they had committed;
. formulate a set of recommendations to the President with respect to the creation of institutions
conducive to a stable and fair society and measures to prevent future human rights violations; and
. compile a report publicising the work and findings of the TRC.
To assist in the implementation of these objectives, the legislation established three committees
within the TRC:
1. Committee on Human Rights Violations: to conduct public hearings throughout the country.
2. Committee on Amnesty: to consider applications for amnesty from those who had committed
political crimes.
3. Committee on Reparation and Rehabilitation of Victims: to formulate recommendations on how to
implement a reparations policy.
Through an act of parliament, the TRC became a legitimised and legalised institution that focused
specifically on gross violations of human rights during the period between March 1960 and 11 May
1994. The focus on gross human rights violations was defined and narrowed to include only victims
of killing, torture, abduction and severe ill-treatment (van der Walt et al., 2003). Two critical
implications arise from this pragmatic approach. First, the consequences of apartheid as a systemic
form of oppression and human rights violations was not addressed overtly, but rather, the focus was
on violations that would have been considered illegal, even under apartheid. Socio-economic
disparities, socio-political marginalisation and the effects of legalised racism were essentially not the
focus of inquiry. In addition to allowing for a denial of responsibility on the part of those at the head of
the apartheid state apparatus, this particular focus had the effect of locating the blame for apartheid
atrocities solely in the illegal activities of a minority of individuals. Consequently, the TRC process
resulted in many foot-soldiers of apartheid being identified and questioned, rather than placing the
system of apartheid and its leardership on trial. Such a limited scope accorded to the TRC further
negates the persistent and comprehensive manner in which apartheid undermined and continues to
undermine black South Africans at social, political, economic and personal levels. Second, with
regard to the specific time-frame, an entire layer of South African society was essentially exonerated
by default, and the foundations of the apartheid system received no overt attention by the TRC (van
der Walt et al., 2003).
With regard to the amnesty process, the TRC was specifically mandated to grant amnesty to
perpetrators of human rights abuses who offered full disclosure about the crimes that they had
committed. While having the right to grant or deny amnesty, the TRC did not have the express
mandate to prosecute in instances where amnesty was not granted. This matter was referred to the
29

state prosecutorial services for further investigation and possible prosecution, and in effect the TRC
then did not have a full and comprehensive judicial mandate. This left questions as to the ability of
the TRC to follow through on instances of gross human rights violations and the prosecution thereof.
In addition, where amnesty was granted, the Act expressly prevented any future civil cases or claims
from being made by victims or the families of victims against perpetrators (e.g. the case of the Biko
family that attempted to lodge civil proceedings against Steve Biko's self-confessed murderers).
On a related note, many deponents who appeared in front of the TRC were angered by the inability
of the TRC to act in regard to reparations. The government reserved the prerogative to act on the
TRC's recommendations regarding reparations (Burton, 2000). The considered primary mode of
reparations had been of a monetary nature. In addition, community reparations and symbolic
reparations (e.g. memorials) were also considered. While the financial reparations would be welcome
for many, others have questioned the morality of such a process.
Furthermore, while there have been suggestions as to how to archive the TRC material and to place
it squarely in the public domain to acknowledge those who suffered under the yolk of apartheid,
issues of social justice remain. Many perpetrators continue to function with absolute impunity in postapartheid
South Africa Ð an understandably sore point for victims, survivors and their families.
UNSTATED AND IMPLIED MANDATES OF THE TRC
Even though the stated intent of the TRC is clear from its mandate, there are several unstated
intentions and consequences of this process.
Facilitating hope and optimism
van der Walt et al. (2003) argue that owing to the future-orientated strategies that had been
employed in the transitional compromise, a discourse of hope and optimism had to be propagated.
This discourse of national unity, that concealed socio-economic disparities (Bundy 2000), is captured
by Desmond Tutu's (1997) rainbownation. Premised upon this compromise, the TRC needed to
promote nation-building in a manner that served inadvertently (and at times advertently) as a
concealment for the structural deficiencies of the political compromise. In the sense that this
discourse needed to sustain a country through its transition, some writers have argued that the
decision by the TRC to follow this path was both pragmatic and successful (Boraine, 2000, Villa-
Vicencio, 2000) in so far as it delayed controversy and conflict, and allowed the nation to work
through a difficult past.
However, if these strategies prevented economic and social redress of apartheid inequalities by
creating an amnesia, then the TRC can certainly be critiqued for being complicit in deferring and
avoiding the trial and prosecution of those responsible for atrocities committed during apartheid on
the one hand, and the redistribution of wealth and land on the other.
Constructing memory and history
At the level of memory and history, the TRC was not mandated with inscribing an official history, but it
30

certainly functioned as a mechanism to interpolate subjects into a process in which collective identity
and collective memory could be contested, and then broadly consensually defined. So by
symbolising the experience of discontent by the majority of black South Africans in processes such
as the TRC, in which there was an obsession with history-making and nation-building (van der Walt
et al., 2003), the TRC process facilitated a context in which the `racial' and socio-economic inequities
of the apartheid legacy that were to some extent negated in the transition from apartheid to
democracy, could remain invisible. The process of writing history (whether official or not) and
constructing memory is political. In particular, an attempt to construct a so-called collective memory,
speaks of the agenda to construct a collective identity. Under the rubric of reconciliation, a country
divided by the social, economic, `racial' and political policy of apartheid was asked to forge a
nationalism (and therefore a national identity) based on a consensus of how the apartheid past was
to be remembered.
Collective identity and memory speak to the dominant understandings of the past that are shared by
the vast majority of those inhabiting a state. While Adam and Adam (2000) correctly point out that it is
nonsensical to assume collective understandings to be absolute and homogenous, and that at best
they can be figurative, this process of forging a homogenous collective understanding did occur to
some extent within the TRC, becoming a factual commonplace among many in contemporary South
Africa.
However, at stake in collective remembering are subject positions of the diverse populace and for the
TRC to successfully nationalise collective understandings of the past to some extent, often translated
into enormous sacrifice at the individual level. What began as an exercise in the establishment of a
collective memory also partially translated into distortions of personal memories or personal
forgetting. Where the establishment of a collective memory was resisted, those who maintained the
integrity of their identity and memories risked incomprehension in the new array of social
relationships. The meta-communication embedded within the TRC implied a new form of social
marginalisation because one either had to become a member of the newSouth Africa, or remain
alienated within it (van der Walt et al., 2003).
Authors such as Villa-Vicencio (2000) argue that the unofficial construction of a collective memory
and history was not the purview of the TRC. He suggests that the resultant report was an account in
which multiple voices and narratives were represented in a contested manner, and deliberately
served as an incomplete record that had a dialogical outcome in a social formation that sorely
needed it. However, Bundy (2000) and Posel (1999) point out that these personal histories were not
included at the time of the actual writing of the document, and it appears that while narrative, social
and healing truths were used in the hearings, the TRC Final Report presented itself as a factually
true document, devoid of these subjective elements (van der Walt et al., 2003).
Accommodating subjective and objective disclosures
Within the TRC process, subjective accounts of personal narratives and experiences were
accommodated alongside more objective, pre-recorded, written statements. For Bundy (2000), the
31

TRC process ``represents a structurally fragmented historical account, in which the contradictory pulls
of the TRC's mandate exact a toll both epistemological and methodological'' (p.13).
While this appears to be an appropriate assessment given the contradictory nature of the stated and
unstated mandates of the TRC, it appears that this vacillation also became strategically useful as the
TRC attempted to meet its tasks of peacemaking and peacebuilding. On the one hand, personal
experiences of victims and perpetrators needed to be heard as part of a peacemaking strategy, but
on the other hand, these needed to be contained in a manner that could be integrated into a coherent
collective history that would promote nation-building.
So the structure of the TRC straddled both judicial and reconciliatory procedures. This resulted in the
quasi-judicial appearance of the hearings, in which the human faces of trauma were juxtaposed
against the objective judicial process in a court-like setting. Antagonists to this process argued that
this blurred the TRC's focus (van Zyl Slabbert, 2000) and that it failed to instill the respect for the law
that was required in the new South Africa (Bundy, 2000; Jeffery, 1999; Neier, 1998). Those in favour
of this compromise argued that it allowed for a human component to emerge in the hearings, and that
this was what the country needed for reconciliation to occur (Boraine, 2000; Villa-Vicencio, 2000).
However, this procedure within the TRC contributed to a silencing of the `racialised' macro-economic
inequalities pervading South Africa, and the subjective experiences of the testifiers were partially
foregrounded at points. The imperatives of addressing the macro-economic consequences of the
systematised, socio-politically entrenched oppression of apartheid were subordinated to those of
producing a unifying national archive. Personal testimony was the primary mechanism through which
this was attained, but only when such testimony appropriated the discourse of nation-building that
permeated the TRC. When deponents deviated from this, certain constraints were often imposed
upon them. van der Walt (1999) suggests that this forced testifiers to depart from the point of the
experiences, and instead to speak in the language and discourse of the TRC. He examined the
extent to which survivors of human rights violations were allowed to speak when operating outside of
the dominant discourses of truth and reconciliation, and found that when using the political rhetoric
salient to the TRC's agenda of nation-building, testifiers were allowed to speak longer and with fewer
interruptions than when they focused on other aspects of their subjective experience of the trauma.
When victims grappled with the emotions engendered by their narratives, the TRC panel would
frequently respond by cross-examining testifiers, and refer the victim to his or her recorded
statement. While this may be accounted for in part by panelists acting clinically and callously in the
interest of self-preservation when faced with the immense trauma of the testifiers, it is also apparent
that documents such as the recorded statements were given greater validity than the testimony itself
at certain points. The tensions between personalised and subjective testimonies and objective judicial
truth mentioned above clearly represent one of the major challenges of the TRC process at a
methodological and philosophical level.
Beyond this, there appeared to be implicit attempts to institutionalise subjective and individualised
processes and to re-package them as collective, objective strategies for reconciliation. Here the
covert religiose underpinnings of the TRC are a case in point and are reflected in statements such as
Revealing is Healing. Symbolically, the TRC became the confessional, and its commissioners the
symbolic interceders who were able to grant absolution or suggest a certain level of penance. A
32

similar psychological construction also pervaded the TRC process in which cathartic expressions of
atrocities committed were viewed as a step towards healing the nation. While the latter two
underpinnings certainly have significant merit in peace promotion and reconciliation, the result in this
instance is more complex, contributing to an obfuscation of the structural damages of apartheid at
more insidious levels, and tend to bolster the notion that atrocities committed during apartheid were
the acts of crazed individuals and that the effects were only felt by individual victims. In so doing, the
system of apartheid was vilified, but essentially managed to remain scot-free. Associated with this,
was the notion of forgiveness. While some authors argue that forgiveness can be enacted at a group
level by a victimised social category if the perpetrating social group takes collective responsibility for
their acts (Bhargava, 2000), several questions arise. Firstly, to what extent can and will groups take
collective responsibility and likewise, grant forgiveness, especially given the heterogeneity of their
lived experiences? Secondly, would such a polarisation have been consistent with the TRC's focus
on creating sameness rather than difference in the context of post-apartheid nation-building? Thirdly,
was it possible for the TRC in any way to structurally facilitate or impose such processes of collective
responsibility and forgiveness? In each instance, the inherent difficulties with infusing forgiveness into
such processes related to collective responsibility are apparent. This does not imply that forgiveness
is not central to reconciliation, but there needs to be an acknowledgement that forgiveness is often
premised on the personal motives and subjective interpretations of social experiences of individuals,
and social categories in their entirety cannot simply be compelled through moral argument to take
collective responsibility and offer collective forgiveness. Morality of course is also socially
constructed, embedded in political and ideological discourses, and may therefore be contested. In the
case of the South African TRC, this problematic contributed to an emphasis on individuals to take
responsibility and in turn, offer forgiveness (e.g. the case of the parents of a white American
exchange student, Amy Biehl, who was killed at a political rally, and whose parents publicly forgave
her killers). Social processes resulting in repression, oppression and violence were proverbially let off
the hook.
CONFESSIONS, AMNESTY, REPARATIONS AND SOCIAL JUSTICE
The process of granting amnesty was contingent on full disclosures being made by those appearing
in front of the TRC, with regard to gross human rights violations occurring in the context of political
motivations (van der Vijver, 2000). However, this amnesty prevents any civil case or claim being
made against perpetrators in future. Here, a case in point is the murder of the Black Consciousness
leader, Steven Bantu Biko. While Biko's murderers confessed to the killing in all its gory detail, when
the family attempted to institute civil action against them, this was denied. Monetary compensation in
this instance was certainly not sufficient, and social justice appeared to be absent in this case. The
process of amnesty granting could also have potentially been combined with other forms of censure,
(if not prosecution), such as preventing those found to be involved in gross human rights violations as
being unfit to stand for any official office in the new dispensation. Rather, many self-confessed killers
and torturers, or the leadership directing such acts, remain at large and in positions of authority in the
new dispensation.
A further example of the difficulties with the amnesty process can be seen in the challenges
33

associated with Dr. Wouter Basson (Burger & Gould, 2002), the apartheid regime's most highlyranked
chemical weapons expert. After repeated and failed attempts by the TRC to gain information
from Dr. Basson on his activities during apartheid, the matter was eventually forwarded to the state
prosecutorial services. Dr. Basson was put on trial, and despite compelling anecdotal evidence, he
was acquitted of all charges after a 30-month long trial in which the state failed to conclusively prove
his guilt. The cost of the trial was estimated at US$2 million at the time, and given the adverse
international press coverage, the hefty costs and challenges facing prosecution teams in this area, a
minimal number of successful trials have occurred for perpetrators of gross human rights violations
(most of whom were low-level functionaries) who were not offered amnesty.
With regard to reparations, these were recently decided upon by the South African government. Of
the US$375 million recommended by the TRC to be paid as reparations to the 22 000 testifiers, the
government has only authorised the payment of US$74 million Ð less than 20% of the original
recommendation (Michael, 2003). While symbolic and community reparations will be an important
step beyond monetary compensation, these are occurring slowly and other forms of reparations have
yet to be discussed. For example, given the levels of trauma excised through the TRC process, more
comprehensive health and mental health strategies could certainly have been generated. While
victim empowerment and offender-victim dialoguing has been established in some instances, victim
support services have not been established as a sustained effort (see for example, Stauffer and
Hamber, 1995). In addition, even though the Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP) of
the new South African government was in part construed as a socio-economic measure aimed at
reparations for the majority of the black population, its intentions were unattainable in the context of
the South African and global economy from the start (Stevens, 1996), and it has now effectively been
abandoned. Finally, questions as to the success of the TRC in promoting lasting reconciliation
through the process of restorative social justice remain, and this scepticism is supported by an array
of empirical studies that have shown contrary findings (see for example, Hamber, 1997).
A CRITICAL APPRAISAL
At the level of its own internal mandate, the TRC certainly went a long way to meeting its stated
objectives. Over 22 000 people testified in hearings before the TRC, and information pertaining to
gross human rights violations that had occurred under apartheid emerged for the first time into the
public domain. The extent of the accounts was in some way more than what many had ever
anticipated and certainly helped to contribute to a more complex set of social histories that had until
then not been acknowledged within the public sphere. Furthermore, more than 6000 people applied
for amnesty within the framework of the TRC Ð certainly a significant number of people who
acknowledged the need to take some degree of responsibility for their deeds during the apartheid
years (SATRC, 1998).
However, because peacemaking and peacebuilding strategies such as the TRC are embedded within
and emerge out of pre-existing conflictual social conditions, they are themselves invariably politically
and ideologically influenced. In the case of the South African TRC, the politics and economics of
negotiation and compromise became the hegemonic ideological discourse on which the TRC was
premised and so severely constrained the potential impact of the TRC. For instance the issue of
34

eparations was heavily influenced by the economic imperatives of post-apartheid South Africa.
Despite the TRC's valuable recommendations, the reduced one-off payment to victims of apartheid
can only be seen as a token form of economic reparation, and the ANC government also vehemently
opposed the idea of imposing a wealth tax on business. Furthermore, attempts to lodge class action
lawsuits against several multinationals have been met with absolute antagonism from the state,
arguing that it is bad for business (Michael, 2003).
While the TRC certainly contributed to forgiveness, healing and reconciliation for many individuals,
and countless others probably benefited from the process vicariously, many of the structural
inequities arising out of apartheid remain salient in contemporary South African society.
Reconciliation is unlikely to be experienced as a widespread phenomenon when social relations
remain fundamentally unequal in post-conflict contexts.
As this article has attempted to draw out some of the most salient lessons and challenges of the
South African TRC, it is fair to state that as an institutionalised form of peacemaking and
peacebuilding, the TRC has had mixed results and impacts, (depending on the ideological position
that one holds in contemporary South African society). However, despite the critique embedded in
the above argument, there is no doubt that truth commissions have a potentially significant role to
play in social transition from conflict to peace, and as such should be supported. Nevertheless, truth
commissions only provide one partial strategy for peacemaking and peacebuilding in post-conflict,
transitionary societies. Ash (2003) refers to purges, trials and history lessons (e.g. truth commissions)
as potential tools to assist such societies. While this article has dealt with the South African TRC as a
form of history lesson, the concept of social justice is likely to require elements of restorative,
retributive and reparative mechanisms of justice. Even though truth commissions may have the
potential to fulfil objectives related to restorative justice, trials may be necessary for those who have
clearly committed crimes against humanity, and purges may be vital to prevent those complicit in acts
of human rights violations from ever holding public office again. The success of truth commissions is
also dependent upon historical adversaries holding similar levels of power within a society (i.e. where
the balance of forces are more equitably distributed), and concrete strategies that provide social,
economic and political redress for those who have been marginalised. In South Africa, despite the
limited economic redress, the political and moral balance of forces had shifted to a level conducive to
peacemaking and peacebuilding. Political and social consensus had been broadly attained in support
of the TRC, thereby ensuring some degree of legitimacy for the process and its final outcomes,
despite its limitations (e.g. even though historical accounts were contested during the hearings, the
final report of the TRC appears to have generated minimal discontent from broad cross-sections of
the South African population). Wherever truth commissions do occur, they should not however be
romanticised, but thoughtfully premised on the imperatives facing a particular social formation in
nation-building, as well as on the universally accepted principles of social justice, international law
and human rights (van der Vijver, 2000). So in the context of globalisation, wars and conflicts the role
of international communities in ensuring that these universal principles are promoted within truth
commissions will become increasingly important, especially as we attempt to hold all those
responsible for wars, conflicts and human rights atrocities accountable on an international scale.
35

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank Clinton van der Walt and Vije Franchi, colleagues with whom I previously
collaborated on a similar topic, and whose seminal ideas are reflected in this paper.
NOTES
1. The placing of words or concepts between single quotation marks generally indicates that its
validity is being queried, and suggests that the meaning broadly ascribed to the concept or word
is not accepted by the author. With reference to concepts related to racism, it is primarily a critical
discursive strategy to avoid unwittingly reproducing essentialised notions of distinctly separate
and unequal biological races and associated racialising processes.
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39

NON-VIOLENT CONFLICT
RESOLUTION AND PEACEBUILDING
IN SOUTH AFRICA
Martin Terre Blanche 1
Department of Psychology, University of South Africa
ABSTRACT
In this article I use two recent media events to consider the history of and prospects for peaceful
transformation in South Africa. First, I use the cricket World Cup to dramatise the post-colonial global
context within which modern-day South African subjectivities have come into being. I argue that while
South Africans, and in particular black South Africans, are constrained by discourses of exoticism,
they also make positive use of the ``double consciousness'' which is thus foisted on them to forge
newforms of personal and national identity. Second, I use local opposition to the war against Iraq as
emblematic of the role played by civil society and peaceful protest in bringing about South Africa's
political transformation. However, I argue that the social capital built up before, during and
immediately after the apartheid years is nowbeing eclipsed by the global predominance of private
capital.
Much of the discussion during the Indo-South African dialogue, at which this article was presented,
revolved around a particular South African peacebuilding institution, namely the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission (TRC). This is perhaps not surprising as, for many, the TRC continues to
represent the essence of what is special about the emergence of democracy in South Africa. Over
the past two decades, more than 24 countries have followed South Africa's example and created
official truth commissions (Wilson, 2003), and prominent figures in the TRC, such as archbishop
Desmond Tutu, continue to be popular figures on the international conference circuit (Kretzmann &
Mjekula, 2003).
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
1. Please direct all correspondence to Martin Terre Blanche, Department of Psychology, University of South Africa, P.O. Box 392, UNISA, 0003, South Africa;
Tel. +27 +12 429-8085; Fax. +27 +12 429-3414; E-mail: terremj@unisa.ac.za
40

However, an important purpose of the Indo-South African dialogue was to examine not only specific
and highly publicised institutions such as the TRC, but also the broader peace process in South
Africa. Accordingly, various mappings of the wider South African political landscape are provided in
this issue (see Duncan, and Stevens), each of which in a different way helps to place initiatives such
as the TRC in context. Inevitably, each of these mappings glosses over some of the significant
intricacies and paradoxes of the peace process, but collectively they hopefully do provide a useful
overview of the politics of peace and violence in South Africa.
The map I draw in this article is not, as it were, executed from the top down, but instead tries to
suggest the general contours of peacebuilding in South Africa from the bottom up Ð by highlighting
two recent quintessentially South African events in which I participated.
A GAME OF CRICKET
I experienced the first event vicariously, as part of the estimated 1.2 billion cricket enthusiasts
worldwide who viewed the opening ceremony of the 2003 cricket World Cup on television. The
ceremony, and the World Cup as a whole, were very much a product of global media culture, but at
the same time also typically South African. Apart from the obligatory speeches, it consisted mostly of
an elaborately staged and choreographed pageant showcasing South Africa's `rainbow nation' and
natural beauty. Like the rugby World Cup in 1995, what was being presented was, in the words of
South African novelist, J.M. Coetzee (1995), ``a de-historicized vision of Tourist South Africa''. The
pageant was therefore, at one level, fairly straightforwardly just another symptom of what Said (1978)
calls orientalism. Orientalism describes a world in which Euro-American culture has become so
pervasive that other cultural and political realities have become thinkable and doable only as
something exotic Ð not only by Euro-Americans, but also by the very people who have been
positioned as exotic foils to the West.
At best those who are considered exotic, and who have learned to consider themselves as such, will
be made to parade, or will themselves willingly parade, before Western eyes as an interesting
entertainment. At worst non-Westerners will, as occurred again in the war against Iraq, be
constrained to take on the mantle of wretchedness, incompetence and savagery.
The cricket World Cup opening ceremony, and the tournament as a whole, were conditioned as much
by willing acquiescence with exoticism-as-entertainment as by an attempt to dispel the image of
exoticism-as-horror. It was as important for South Africans, and for those who were watching us, that
the pageant should show us at our exotically entertaining best, and that everything should go off
smoothly. There should be no power failures, no unexpected strikes, and of course no violence.
In both the `developed' and the `developing' world, `the power failure' is more than an inconvenience
Ð it is metonymic of having been left behind by modernity, of being unable to maintain the requisite
technological and organisational efficiency to run a modern technocratic state. As Mitter (2003, n.p.)
puts it: ``nothing says Third World quite like a power outage''. Thus, the most memorable sound bite
from the massive electricity blackout that struck the North-East of the United States and Canada in
August 2003 was the remark by New Mexico governor, Bill Richardson, a former energy secretary
41

during the Clinton administration, that the United States was ``a global superpower with a Third World
electricity grid''.
For North Americans the blackout was an anomaly that threatened to disrupt the familiar categories
of `First World' and `Third World' Ð as much an ideological as a practical crisis. In Middle America,
newspaper editors, intellectuals and politicians scrambled to discursively manage this threat to the
First World's image of itself. Thus, the Belleville Intelligencer (2003) quickly pointed out that things
are even worse in the `Third World' (``we think the Haitians wouldn't mind a grid like ours''); a group
called ``Citizens for Pennsylvania's Future'' (2003, n.p.) rushed to the nation's defence with a press
release insisting that ``the electric system is highly reliable, though not perfect''; while the journal
Nature had physicist Benjamin Carreras explaining how the blackout was in fact a sign of the high
quality of the American system as reliable systems are prone to occasional large failures, whereas in
less robust systems, such as is in India for example, ``the tension in the network gets released in
many small jolts'' (Suellentrop, 2003, n.p.).
Susan Douglas (2003, n.p.), writing in InTheseTimes, perhaps most straightforwardly expressed the
nature of the crisis: ``How, like, totally embarrassing''.
In South Africa, during the cricket World Cup, there were no such embarrassments. Things did go
smoothly. For Ali Bacher, the chief executive of the cricket World Cup company, as perhaps for most
South Africans, the great achievement of the Cup was that we managed to stage a ``world-class
event'' with the same level of competence as any of the officially ``world-class'' countries such as the
UK, the USA or Australia would have. In particular, security issues were handled to perfection. As
South African commentators have been repeating ad nauseam, not even a single violent incident of
any significance was reported during the entire tournament. South Africa previously staged a similar
``world-class'' event, the rugby World Cup in 1995, with equal success, but for countries outside the
Western mainstream it is of course necessary to prove again and again that they are still safely
ensconced on the entertaining side of exoticism and have not regressed towards its more abject side.
South Africa has to show, and keep on showing, that it has arrived at the blessed state of late
capitalist development where, in the words of Francis Fukuyama (1992), history has ended.
This, in essence, is what South Africa's non-violent revolution has achieved. We have positioned
ourselves, at least for the moment, and perhaps only in our own eyes, as the `other' who can be
regarded fondly, even if with some puzzled amusement. We will play the role of friendly, smiling
natives to the world's media, and to ourselves, and will not become that other who must be feared or
pitied.
South Africa is of course not the only country to have arrived at this juncture, but now merely joins a
throng of other `developing' countries (perhaps including India) who have been striving for many
decades to run themselves as modern, technocratic states with an eye on the tourist industry. The
same kinds of dynamics that exist between `developing countries' and `the West' also play
themselves out in the internal politics of these countries. In South Africa, poor provinces try to live up
to the standards of rich provinces; black South Africans look at themselves through white eyes; poor
South Africans judge themselves by the yardstick of affluence.
42

A century ago W.E.B. DuBois (1903, pp. 2-3) described how this kind of double consciousness
operates for African Americans:
After the Egyptian and Indian, the Greek and Roman, the Teuton and Mongolian, the Negro is a
sort of seventh son, born with a veil, and gifted with second-sight in this American world Ð a
world which yields him no true self-consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the
revelation of the other world. It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of
always looking at one's self through the eyes of others, of measuring one's soul by the tape of a
world that looks on in amused contempt and pity.
This double consciousness, of being simultaneously the other and the one doing the othering, was
described by Frantz Fanon (1965, 1967) as a kind of psychic disfigurement from which colonised
people can recover only by consciously embracing exoticism-as-horror, choosing violence over
peaceful docility. It was also neatly dramatised in the cricket World Cup opening ceremony by the
device of including in the pageant, a safari vehicle full of ``foreign'' tourists, with local comedian Mark
Lottering as tour guide. These tourists acted in exactly the kinds of silly, camera-wielding ways
tourists are supposed to Ð dutifully consuming the various pieces of exoticism-as-entertainment
being put on display for them and even flirting with the idea of exoticism-as-horror by pretending to
be afraid of some of the more extravagant stage effects.
A first reading of spectacles such as the cricket World Cup is therefore that they are precisely the
kind of symptom one would expect to see in the aftermath of a non-violent revolution; as such, a
revolution can at best represent an accommodation between the oppressors and an elite group
among the formerly oppressed. The elite are those who have essentially taken on the language and
mentality of the oppressor, and are therefore able to negotiate a settlement in terms intelligible to the
oppressor while at the same time clinging to a romanticised, exotic vision of themselves as somehow
other-than-the-oppressor. This kind of analysis of the current South African situation, as a peaceful
accommodation between ruling elites at the expense of, say, the poor is now extremely common, and
one which I personally find highly seductive.
However, a somewhat more positive reading is also possible. Although post-apartheid, 21st century
South Africa clearly finds itself constrained by the discursive field created by Western concepts of
exoticism, I would like to think that it (along with other countries in a similar position) is far from being
inextricably caught in this field. The inclusion of tourists and a safari vehicle in the cricket World Cup
pageant in fact symbolises, in a small way, one of the escape routes still available to us. The pageant
was not straightforwardly only about putting on a show of exoticism, but also about showing up the
spectators as something of a spectacle themselves, and perhaps even about looking at ourselves
looking at others looking at us. There is a certain knowingness in the way people in the `Third World'
can position themselves simultaneously as part of and other to the global mainstream Ð a certain
sophistication and tolerance of apparent contradictions Ð which cannot be achieved in the more unidimensional
cultural and political circumstances that now obtain in much of the `West'.
While large sections of the American and British public have fallen under the spell of war-mongering
extremists who perceive the world monochromatically, in South Africa, nobody seems to find it
remarkable that at the time of my writing this article our minister of finance was a former trade union
activist or that our deputy minister of defence was a Quaker pacifist. At some level, such members of
43

the new governing elite have indeed sold out and taken on the outer trappings and authoritarian
attitudes of their former masters. However, they are also, I would like to believe, able to reflect on and
recognise the creative possibilities of the contradictory positions they find themselves in as postcolonial
subjects. For example, according to Nozizwe Madlala-Routledge, the deputy minister of
defence at the time of writing this article, her vision was ``to transform military culture, reduce
weapons proliferation, confront the arms industry and provide the leadership in the region for a stable
and lasting peace'' (Moix, 1999, n.p.). Although Madlala-Routledge has not exactly made good on
these promises (she has been party to a large arms procurement deal signed by the South African
government), it is certainly not the kind of rhetoric one would expect of a `Western' minister of
defence.
It may be true, as DuBois (1903, p. 3) puts it, that the history of African Americans (and, one could
argue with Fanon, of colonised people all over the world) is conditioned by a single longing Ð ``to
attain self-conscious manhood, to merge his double self into a better and truer self''. However, while
DuBois (1903, p. 3) talks about double consciousness as a form of psychic disfigurement, it is
simultaneously also a form of consciousness that goes beyond the ordinary `black folk' are ``gifted
with second-sight''.
When South Africa increasingly operates as a would-be `First World' state, when it uses the
quintessentially Western concept of ``renaissance'' to try and cajole other African countries into doing
the same, it is easy to portray what is happening as simply another case of selling out to the financial
and ideological status quo. And when this process is presented, as I attempt to do in this article, as
having been essentially peaceful, it seems obvious not only that there has been a sell-out, but that it
is based on historical duplicity. As Homi Bhabha (2002, n.p.) puts it:
Here was an instance of liberation through liberalism, liberation apparently facilitated by the
rational forces of the market, by a democratic social movement, by the good offices of
international institutions ... Hidden, sometimes not so hidden, in the process was a great degree of
brutality, a civil war in fact, fomented by the apartheid state; a reign of terror now fading into the
recesses of memory except among those who suffered its bombs and bullets and beatings.
However, Bhabha (1990, p. 85), like DuBois, recognises that what emerges is much more than
rejection or appropriation of colonial cultural goods, or even simply a form of subjectivity tragically
split between these two poles, but instead the colonial experience ``often produces a text rich in the
traditions of trompe-l'oeil, irony, mimicry and repetition''. Even a relatively commercial group such as
the Soweto String Quartet (who don zebra-striped suits to play a mixture of `classical', jazz, and
traditional Afrikaans music to predominantly white audiences) are clearly engaged in a far more
complex game than simply capitulating to, or being split in two by, the colonial gaze.
OUTSIDE THE AMERICAN EMBASSY
The second quintessentially South African event I participated in was also to a large extent staged for
Euro-American consumption, but rather than an entertainment it was intended as a peaceful protest.
As it turned out, it was never televised Ð so rather than 1.2 billion participants there were only about
120 of us. The event was a candle-lit vigil outside the American embassy in Pretoria on the first night,
44

and on every subsequent night, of the war against Iraq. The embassy is in a leafy suburb on the
same street as the Indian embassy, but whereas the latter operates from an elegant colonial
mansion, the US embassy resembles nothing more than a heavily fortified steel and reinforced
concrete bunker.
The protest was staged by the Anti-War Coalition which, as is usual in this kind of protest politics,
consists of a loose amalgamation of highly disparate organisations. Here is a partial list of the motley
crew of organisations forming the coalition, giving something of the flavour of the kinds of micro and
macro issues around which civic society in South Africa organises:
Anti-Eviction Campaign, Anti-Privatisation Forum, Athlone Concerned Civic Residents Association,
Azanian Peoples' Organization, Black Consciousness Forum, Bophelong Community Service
Forum, Botshebelo Palestine Solidarity Committee, Ceasefire Campaign, Concerned Citizens
Forum, Delft Concerned Residents Movement, Democratic Socialist Movement, Environmental
Justice Networking Forum, Free Burma Campaign, Freedom of Expression Institute, Guguletu
Anti-Privatisation Forum, Human Rights Foundation, Ikageng Crisis Committee, Indymedia, Inner
City Anti-Eviction Campaign, Ironside Civic Movement, Islamic Action, Johannesburg Palestine
Solidarity Committee, Jubilee South Africa, Kanana Community Development Forum, Kathorus
Concerned Residents, Keep Left, Khanya College, KTC Concerned Residents Movement,
Lakeside, Landless Access Movement of South Africa, Landless Peoples Movement, Lavender
Hill Anti-Eviction Campaign, Lekoa-Vaal Community Forum, Mabuluka Vukuzenzele Ð Pretoria,
Malboro/Alex, Mandela Park Action Youth Housing Committee, Mandela Village Durban Deep,
Media Review Network, Mfuleni Anti-Eviction Campaign, Mohideen Civic Ð Potchestroom,
Mothers for Services, Muslim Students Association, Muslim Youth Movement, Orange Farm Water
Crisis Committee, Palestine Solidarity Committee, Pan-African Congress, Riverpark Residents
Committee Rural Development Services Network, Smallfarm Community Forum, South African
Catholic Bishops Council, South African NGO Coalition, Social Movement Indaba, Socialist Party
of Azania, Socialist Students Movement, Soldiers Forum, Soweto Electricity Crisis Committee,
Squatter Families of Faure Road, Strand Concerned Group, Tafelsig Anti-Eviction Campaign,
Tafelsig Concerned Parents, Tambo Square Concerned Residents Movement, Thembelihle Crisis
Committee, Trust for Community Outreach and Education, Tshakane Residents Committee,
United Civics of South Africa, Valhalla Park United Civic Front, Vukuzenzele Residents Committee
Ð Alex, Waterless Community of Fisantekraal, Workers' Organisation for Socialist Action,
Workers' Party, Working Class Coordinating Committee Ð Vaal, Youth for Work, Zamdela
Palestine Solidarity Committee.
Together with larger umbrella groupings such as the Congress of South African Trade Unions, the
Azanian People's Organisation (AZAPO), the Pan African Congress (PAC), the African National
Congress (ANC), the South African Communist Party and the South African Council of Churches,
these are the types of organisations that were at the forefront of the struggle against apartheid. Preliberation
South Africa is now often imagined in terms of a protracted period of low-intensity armed
struggle, followed by a brief period of high-level negotiations from 1990 to 1994. What is underplayed
in such accounts is the fact that most of South Africa's liberation history was not characterised either
by overt violence or by peace negotiations between leaders, but by large- and small-scale, nonviolent,
grassroots attempts at bringing the regime to a fall.
45

Indeed, South Africa has a long history of non-violent struggle. Shortly after South Africa was united
as a country in 1910, Gandhi led a series of passive resistance campaigns against the pass laws. In
1923, the South African Indian Congress was formed and used passive resistance to protest against
many discriminatory laws. The South African Indian Congress also cooperated with the ANC in the
Defiance Campaign of 1952, and was present at the signing of the Freedom Charter in 1955.
Historically, it was only after all other avenues of protest had been closed that organisations such as
the ANC and PAC turned to violence. The Programme of Action of 1949, and the Defiance Campaign
of 1952 used boycotts, strikes, civil disobedience and non-cooperation to show opposition to the
apartheid system. Smaller groups, such as the Federation of South African Women (Fedsaw) and the
Black Sash also made use of demonstrations and protest marches.
During the late 1960s and 1970s, student movements like the South African Students Organisation
and the Black People's Convention utilised the Black Consciousness philosophy to instil pride and
psychologically undermine the apartheid system. During the 1970s and 1980s, various other groups
were formed to resist apartheid, many of them growing out of the legacies of the Black
Consciousness Movement. For example, in 1978, the Azanian People's Organisation (AZAPO) was
formed, while in 1983 the United Democratic Front (UDF) was established as an umbrella body
representing about 600 anti-apartheid organisations. In 1984 the National Forum, another umbrella
body, was founded to oppose the new constitution, and this body organised a boycott of the August
1984 elections. On the labour front, the formation of the Congress of South African Trade Unions
(Cosatu) in 1985 heralded the beginning of a long series of strikes and other forms of peaceful
economic activism.
Internationally, there was also a vast network of small and large organisations, and individuals who
had anti-apartheid activism as one of their goals. Among the major peacefully achieved victories of
this network were the sports boycott and economic sanctions instituted against South Africa by the
United Nations. Although the South African regime, in part thanks to covert aid provided by
governments and corporations in Europe and America, was not brought down by these measures, it
created a climate in which it became clear even to them that the apartheid state had no long-term
viability. The international anti-apartheid network was also instrumental in channelling hundreds of
millions of dollars in aid to democratically oriented South African non-governmental organisations.
Among many other countries, India was vociferous in its opposition to apartheid, attacking it in the
General Assembly of the United Nations, for example, and strongly objecting to South Africa
remaining in the commonwealth while implementing apartheid policies.
Internally, many of the civil society organisations (civics, trade unions, non-governmental
organisations, political parties and churches) supported the armed struggle, but in practice,
expressed their opposition to the state through non-violent means. In many cases, this may have
been for the sake of expediency (to avoid arrest), direct oppression (many were in fact arrested and
tortured or had elaborate legal constraints placed on them), or because they simply did not have the
means for violent insurrection. There were also a fair number of well-publicised violent clashes with
the police and the army. Nevertheless, for the most part, the anti-apartheid struggle in South Africa
was characterised not by gunfire, but by peaceful protest. When overt anti-state violence did occur it
was usually presented as a reaction to police provocation rather than as a deliberate strategy.
46

As is often the case in situations of oppression, organisations claiming to represent or to be working
on behalf of the oppressed seemed at times to spend as much time plotting and politicking against
each other as against the state, but here too conflict was mostly of the peaceful variety. Major
exceptions to this were the ongoing violence between UDF/ANC supporters and Inkatha Freedom
Party (IFP) supporters among Zulu-speakers in the province of KwaZulu-Natal, and sporadic violence
in Vaal triangle townships in Gauteng province, including so-called ``hostel violence'' and ``train
violence''. All of these forms of violence were suspected at the time to be, and have since largely
been shown to have been, instigated and sponsored by the state's security apparatus (Haysom,
1992). With the exception of the violence in KwaZulu-Natal, which had been fostered over a lengthy
period by the apartheid state, and which still continues to simmer, this violence rapidly disappeared
with the coming of democracy, to be replaced by a variety of forms of criminal violence.
Anybody who participated in one way or another in the workings of civil society organisations during
the apartheid years will know that the predominant feeling was not one of optimism. Non-violent
protest was the order of the day, but there was no great faith in its efficacy. The power imbalance
between the regime and its opponents seemed too extreme ever to be overcome, and at times it
seemed as if anti-apartheid organisations had fallen into a sterile routine of boycotting and registering
outrage; that they had become institutionalised in a protest role which did not hold out any real
prospect of bringing about change.
Many were therefore caught by surprise when then State President, F.W. de Klerk, suddenly
indicated, at the opening of the (mainly white) parliament in February 1990, that liberation
movements would be unbanned, and that his government would enter into negotiations with them
(address by the State President, F.W. de Klerk on 2 February 1990):
[There is] a growing realisation by an increasing number of South Africans that only a negotiated
understanding among the representative leaders of the entire population is able to ensure lasting
peace. The alternative is growing violence, tension and conflict. That is unacceptable and in
nobody's interest. The well-being of all in this country is linked inextricably to the ability of the
leaders to come to terms with one another on a new dispensation. No-one can escape this simple
truth.
The ``simple truth'' proclaimed by De Klerk in 1990 is one which had been at the heart of the antiapartheid
struggle from the outset, and to many, it therefore seemed like some sort of miracle that it
should suddenly dawn on him in 1990, after he and most other white politicians had denied it for a
century and more. A minor industry has since been established in presenting the non-violent
resolution of the South African conflict as a miracle: De Klerk's supposed Damascus experience;
Nelson Mandela's surprising lack of bitterness and conciliatory attitude towards white South Africans;
and a host of other minor miracles, such as Kenyan professor, Washington Okumo's last-minute
coup in getting IFP leader Mangosotho Buthelezi to sign up to the settlement.
A more mundane explanation of the transition, and one which is all but explicitly acknowledged in De
Klerk's 1990 speech, is that it happened for the following reasons:
a) The international situation had altered to such an extent that there was no longer a danger that
post-apartheid South Africa would become part of the ``communist'' sphere of influence.
47

) An ideological climate had been systematically created over a period of many decades in which
the idea of a minority government simply no longer seemed tenable.
In terms of ``internal'' conditions, it is therefore largely the (mainly peaceful) ideological struggle
against apartheid which brought about its demise. As a result of this struggle the apartheid regime
was on the ideological defensive almost from the outset Ð very quickly, for example, having to
jettison the term apartheid, followed in quick succession by the abandonment of many forms of petty
racism and increasingly baroque attempts at co-opting `coloured' and `Indian' South Africans. F.W. de
Klerk's predecessor, P.W. Botha, who is now mainly remembered for the severity of the repressive
measures he instituted during the 1980s and for the shrillness of his anti-communist rhetoric, was in
fact much preoccupied with desperate attempts at convincing a sceptical world that his regime was in
no way anti-democratic or racist (Schrire, 1991). Thus, by the time De Klerk emerged on the scene,
all that remained to legitimate the white South African regime, also in the eyes of its own electorate,
was the now mythical ``communist onslaught'', and when that fell away, nothing remained to prop up
its ideological edifice.
Let us pause at this point, with the struggle against apartheid having emerged victorious through
largely peaceful ideological means, and return to the candle-lit vigil outside the US embassy in March
2003. Here we have South African civil society attempting to return the favour afforded to them by the
international anti-apartheid movement, not by joining directly in the war against American
imperialism, but through peaceful means Ð by showing up the ideological bankruptcy of the
American position. Here we also have something of an advertisement for the kind of country South
Africa has become as a result of many decades of painstaking peacebuilding.
The gathering was extremely diverse, with all shades of political opinion, religions, ages and races
represented. A Quaker woman read a poem about pacifism. Two young Muslim men held up a
banner: ``Death to Bush!'' A group of young children sang: ``All we are saying, is give peace a
chance''. All chanted: ``Forward with international solidarity! Forward!'' Passing cars hooted their
support. There was a spirit of tolerance, an unspoken assumption that the gathering would be
peaceful, and an eagerness to listen to different voices. Even the large contingent of policemen was
of the new South African variety Ð remaining in the background and pointedly avoiding
confrontational behaviour. In the back of one armoured vehicle I noticed a group of young policemen
whiling away the time with, of all things, a game of Monopoly.
The diversity of the gathering and the open, participatory manner in which it was conducted reflected
well on the depth of `social capital' (Coleman, 1988; Putnam, 1995) built up in South Africa during the
struggle, the four transitional years, and in the decade of post-apartheid reconstruction. In contrast to
the USA, where social capital has been actively depleted (as seen in the steadily lower frequency
and greater shallowness of social interaction, and in the declining sense of mutual trust among
citizens) in order to amass ever-larger hoards of private financial capital, in South Africa, a strong
tradition has been established of actually talking things through, of confronting differences in open
debate and of having the patience to find consensus.
But as I looked more closely at the gathering outside the American embassy, it became clear that
something was wrong with that idyllic picture of a tolerant, civic-minded post-apartheid South Africa.
First, there were only 120 of us. By my calculation that is precisely 0,0000001% of the number of
people who watched the cricket World Cup pageant. In other capital cities Ð London, Sydney,
48

Amman Ð there were hundreds of thousands of protesters. Second, the gathering was not quite as
diverse as it at first seemed Ð there were relatively few South Africans of African descent; very few
working class people; nobody confessed to being Jewish. In fact, the majority of participants were
Muslim, and as the war dragged on, fewer and fewer non-Muslims pitched up for the nightly vigil.
Gradually the policemen seemed to become more aggressive. I later read in the newspaper that they
had started arresting hooting motorists Ð apparently because local homeowners complained that
they were disturbing the peace.
In post-apartheid capitalist South Africa, peace, like violence, has become privatised. It is no longer a
shared achievement, to be collectively fostered and enjoyed by the people, but something to be
bought and insisted on if you are rich enough to afford a home in a security complex, or to hold on to
in the privacy of your living room as you watch the cricket World Cup or the war on Iraq. Since 1995,
house prices in South Africa have, in real terms, increased by 127% Ð the second highest growth
rate in the world (Van Rooyen, 2003). It seems unlikely that in the post-apartheid years social capital
has increased at the same rate, and more probable that it has in fact declined.
CONCLUSION
In this article I have presented two emblematic moments from life in South Africa in the early 21st
century and tried to use them as a lens to look upwards towards the larger ideological struggles
around conflict and conflict resolution, which created the conditions for these moments to occur.
In the first case I started with a somewhat pessimistic reading of a colonised elite trying to liberate
themselves from their colonial masters while simultaneously trying to be just like them, but concluded
with the more optimistic possibility that the double consciousness of the colonised may be a truer
reflection of life in the 21st century than the uni-dimensional cultural fantasies still pursued by the
George Bushes of this world. In the second case, I started at the more optimistic end of the scale,
claiming that the downfall of apartheid was due to the slow, peaceful, participatory creation of a
certain ideological climate by South African civil society and our international allies, and that this
democratic spirit and passion endure into the present. However, I ended on a negative note,
suggesting that perhaps the real ideological force which brought about the end of apartheid and
which now determines the shape of post-apartheid South Africa is not civil society but international
capitalism.
I cannot say with any certainty if an optimistic or a pessimistic reading is more useful in trying to
understand how our peaceful transition came about and what kind of society we have transformed
into, but suspect that an honest account of where we are now and of how we got here needs to
include both these possibilities.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My thanks to my wife, Helen Terre Blanche, for helping to formulate some sections of this article, and
to Manoranjan Mohanty for inviting me to present a paper at the Indo-South African dialogue.
49

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51

CONFLICT, RECONCILIATION AND
PEACEBUILDING IN THE NORTH-EAST
REGION OF INDIA
Rei Vashum 1
School of Social Sciences, Indira Gandhi National Open University
ABSTRACT
Reconciliation and peacebuilding is a multifaceted process, and one much sought after by various
communities, particularly in the high conflict North-East region of India. Most of the complex nature of
conflict in this region is rooted in the past and so, in the absence of a rigorous understanding of the
basis of the conflict, attempts to resolve the conflict are likely to be unsuccessful. The failed efforts of
the Government of India (GoI), and various organisations and groups to address the conflict thus call
for an innovative approach, which takes into account the various contours of conflicts in the quest to
build peace. The ongoing peace process in Nagalim (Nagaland) is a valuable opportunity for the GoI
and the Nagas, as well as the people of the North-East, to solve a major and enduring problem of the
region. Accordingly, this article reflects on the conflict situation, and the processes of reconciliation
and peacebuilding in the North-East region of India, with special reference to the Indo-Naga peace
process. The article will also address the implications of the peacebuilding process.
The North-East region of India comprises of seven sister-states 1 : Arunachal Pradesh, Assam,
Manipur, Meghalaya, Mizoram, Nagaland and Tripura. The region is a conglomeration of various
ethnic groups, cultures and `races'. The main constituents of the region are the mongoloids of the
Sino-Tibetan linguistic family and the Caucasoids belonging to the Aryan linguistic family; the two
groups are not homogeneous in terms of sociocultural and political aspects. Thus identity crises,
alienation and under-development are some of the main issues that continue to trouble the North-
East region. While many of the problems in the region have historical roots, the mishandling of issues
in the region by the post-independent Indian state, and ignorance of the situation in the North-East
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
1. Please direct all correspondence to Rei Vashum, Faculty of Sociology, School of Social Sciences, Indira Gandhi National Open University, Maindan Garhi,
New Delhi 110068, India; E-mail: reivashum@hotmail.com.
52

egion on the part of policymakers and administrators are among the major contributory factors
stemming resolution of the conflict. It appears that the Indian state is most concerned with defence
and national security, as the region borders four neighbouring sovereign states: China in the north,
Myanmar (erstwhile Burma) in the east, Bangladesh in the south and Bhutan in the north-west. In
fact, the link between the North-East region and the rest of India is through a narrow strip (also called
``chicken neck'') in northern West Bengal.
This article will accordingly focus on the following three core issues: (1) the nature of the conflict
situation in the North-East region of India; (2) reconciliation and peacebuilding, and their implications;
and (3) prospects for Indo-Naga peacemaking.
CONFLICT SITUATION IN THE NORTH-EAST
The conflict in the North-East region has been characterised by: (1) an identity crisis and a sense of
alienation; (2) conflict with the Indian state; (3) inter-community conflict; (4) under-development; and
(5) conflict arising from a policy of language imposition. To these some might add `intra-community
conflict' to the list. I review each of these in turn below.
Identity crisis, nationality issues and alienation
The people of the North-East region have been facing an immense crisis of identity and a sense of
alienation over the last few decades. A strong sense among the North-East people of being foreign to
the Indian union, a distinct history, the geographical isolation of the region, and coercion by the Indian
state on the indigenous peoples of the region to participate in the Indian Union without their consent
are among the many factors that account for the ongoing sense of alienation. Thus, many North-East
people feel that they are Indian by historical accident and not by choice.
A pervasive sense of being historically, culturally, linguistically, politically and even racially different
from the rest of the population of India has thus prompted the creation of various ``external'' 2 peoples'
self-determination movements in the North-East region (see Alexander & Friedlander, 1980;
Cassese, 1981; Chen, 1976; Cobban, 1969; Cobo, 1986; Hannum, 1992; Sanajaoba, 1994; Sanders,
1993; Vashum, 1996, 1999, 2000). Many groups in the region have accordingly been agitating for
independent nation-states since the 1940s and have set up parallel governments in their own way;
the Naga movement for self-determination (``sovereignty'') 3 , to be discussed later in the article, is a
good example of the cessationist movement.
In parallel to the calls for self-determination by various groups in the North-East region there is also
the struggle for autonomous status within the Constitution of India. This struggle centres around
demands for the creation of new state/s, including calls for the establishment of Boroland (Bodoland)
to be carved out of the State of Assam, and various demands for implementation of the ``VIth
Schedule'' 4 in the Hills of Manipur and other states of the region.
In contrast to the groups' call for self-determination and/or autonomy, there are also some ethnic
groups in the North-East region (e.g. Arunchal Pradesh) who are complacent about the status quo.
53

Such groups do not call for sovereignty. Instead, they tend to favour certain provisions and rights
enshrined within the existing Constitution of India. These groups have been criticised for being
unaware of their historical independent political existence and their lack of capacity to organise or
form self-determination movements on a large scale. The common denominator characterising all
three groups has been the identity crisis and a sense of alienation from their Indian counterparts.
Conflict with the Indian state: Militarisation and neocolonialism in the region
In the North-East, the Union of India is largely represented by paramilitary and army personnel, who
are often responsible for the violation of human rights in the region. Human rights violations have
been perpetrated in the name of providing protection and security to the people of the region, thereby
compounding the sense of alienation and North-Eastern people's difficulty in identifying with so-called
mainland India. The militarisation of the GoI's presence in the North-East is thus directly or indirectly
linked to the resurgence of insurgency movements in the region.
Neocolonialism has also been a cause for great concern in the North-East. Even though the Indian
state, as the successor to British colonialism, is responsible for the administration of the North-East
region, today the North-East people are apprehensive about the danger of the continued siphoning of
resources by the GoI from the region. Petroleum, forest resources and various minerals are among
the many resources siphoned by the GoI.
Inter-community conflict and the issue of foreign influx
The influx of foreigners into the North-East has become alarming. It appears that the region has
become a ``dumping ground'' for refugees and foreign nationals. In some areas, such as Tripura and
parts of Assam, the influx of foreigners, particularly from Bangladesh, has dramatically altered the
population demographics. The other states, namely Mizoram (influx of Hajongs mainly from
Bangladesh), Nagaland (Miyas-Muslim mainly from Bangladesh via Assam), Manipur (Burmese
nationals mainly of Chin-Kuki groups), and Arunachal Pradesh (Chakmas mainly from Bangladesh),
have also experienced the burden of uncontrolled and unregulated influx of foreigners. Since there is
no clear policy for responding to foreigners and their associated concerns and integration, the
potential for inter-community conflict continues to grow. In fact, historically ethnic conflicts in the
North-East region have also represented a significant obstacle for peaceful co-existence among the
region's people. Most of the causal factors for these conflicts are deep-seated and historically
situated. For instance, the ethnic conflict in Assam between the Boros (earlier called Bodos) and the
Santhals (immigrant adivasis from Jharkhand in Eastern India) 5 , was initiated by the British for their
own dubious reasons. Similarly, conflict between the Nagas, the indigenous people of the region and
the Kukis began after the British located the Kukis in Manipur 6 and other parts of the North-East in
the 19th century. In another case, due to the partition of Bengal and the chauvinism of the Bengalee
settlers in Tripura, the indigenous people of Tripura have been reduced to just about 29%. Ethnic
conflicts in the North-East region tends to be related to ethnic chauvinism, exploitation and
discrimination of subordinated tribes by the dominant groups across the advanced plains peoples of
Assam, Manipur and Tripura.
54

Under-development, lack of infrastructure and conflict
Under-development and the lack of infrastructure are serious problems in the North-East. Except for
some parts of Assam, signs of varying levels of under-development are evident throughout the
region. The hill peoples or tribes are the victims of discrimination and exploitation by the so-called
dominant and more advanced plains peoples. The dominance of the plains peoples, especially in the
realm of government and politics, and the location of all the main public administration offices in the
plains (respective capital cities) entrenches the exploitation of the hill peoples.
The lack of an education system is also a major problem in the North-East. Although there is at least
one university 7 , in each of the seven sister states, the hill peoples (in plains-dominated states) do not
have access to universities, or sufficient colleges and schools in their areas. In Manipur, even though
hill areas constitute 90% of the total area of the state, no university has been provided for the
extensive tribal areas. Furthermore, tribal students, teachers and administrative staff are poorly
represented at Manipur University and colleges.
High levels of politicisation, nepotism and the politics of hatred directed at the disfranchised tribes
seem to be part of the schemes employed by the so-called dominant plain's people. Similarly, the
tribal communities in Assam that qualify for at least two or three central state universities in view of
their substantial population do not have a university. If such minimum infrastructure is not provided by
the central or state government, then one can well imagine the lack of scope for local communities in
the undeveloped and `backward' tribal areas of the region.
Conflicts resulting from politics of language imposition
Exploitation and discrimination of subordinated groups is also associated with the imposition of
language in the North-East. Even though Assam has only recently been divided into several states,
Assamese linguistic and cultural hegemony and the continued imposition of the Manipuri 8 language
on the tribes compromises the identity and cultural heritage of the minorities, thereby undermining
prospects for peace and reconciliation.
INDO-NAGA CONFLICT
Following the preceding overview of the nature of the conflict in the North-East region, in this section
I focus on one case study, namely Indo-Naga conflict, and consider the crucial associated issues of
conflict and peacebuilding.
I have chosen the Indo-Naga conflict and peace process for six main reasons:
(1) The current peace process has resulted in casualties, security-related violence and human rights
violations in the states of Nagaland and Manipur.
(2) The current peace process was launched on the basis of non-violence and bilateral dialogue and
negotiation.
(3) This peace process involves the GoI and the National Socialist Council of Nagalim (NSCN),
which is considered to be the `mother' of all people's movements for self-determination in the
55

egion. The current Indo-Naga peace process has been re-launched after the deadlock of the first
peace process (1964-1972).
(4) The peace process is viewed by other groups seeking self-determination in the region as a
potential model for conflict resolution.
(5) The current dialogue is free of any preconditions; involves the highest level (at the Prime
Ministerial level); and is held in a third country, outside India.
(6) The involvement and support of the various civil society groups (both national and international)
and other world communities.
Nature and history of the Indo-Naga conflict
The Indo-Naga conflict is sociocultural, economic, historical and political in nature. The main
contesting issue is that the Nagas define themselves as an independent nation, requiring the GoI not
to interfere with their affairs. Historically the Nagas were independently governed people in their
present homeland, which is located in the hilly confluence of India, China and Myanmar 9 . Every Naga
village was an independent self-governing system run by the villagers themselves according to
democratic principles.
According to recorded history, the first outsiders the Nagas encountered were the Ahoms, sometime
in 1228 AD (see Vashum, 2000). Although the encounter was fierce, the two gradually became good
neighbours, with the relationship lasting for about 600 years. The second foreign group the Nagas
encountered was the British in 1832 when the British sought to link their base in Burma (now
Myanmar) with Assam. By 1890 the British had conquered most of the Naga country; only about onethird
remained unconquered 10 . Despite this history the GoI claims that Nagas are part of the Union of
India since areas inhabited by the Naga (presumably Naga areas currently in the Indian Union) are
part of what India inherited from the British at independence. Following such claims the Indian
leaders wanted to incorporate the Naga areas 11 and other areas of the region into the Union of India.
Some initiatives for arriving at consensus were undertaken by both the leaders of the GoI and the
Naga, represented by the Naga National Council, in 1946. According to the Nine-Point Agreement of
1947 12 , the Nagas would have an interim arrangement for ten years with maximum autonomy (see
Vashum, 2000). The Governor of Assam was to take responsibility for the observance of the terms of
the Agreement. Although the Nagas were aware that the Agreement was short on sovereignty, it was
largely viewed as a good beginning for Naga nation-building and peacemaking with the GoI.
However, the GoI immediately withdrew from the Agreement to the humiliation of the Nagas. The
Nagas then unilaterally declared independence on 14 August 1947 (a day before the declaration of
Indian independence) with the blessing of Mahatma Gandhi, the father of the Indian nation. On 14
August 1947 the Nagas also made their decision known to India, the United Kingdom and the United
Nations. Thus, the foundation for the Indo-Naga conflict was created.
At the heart of the conflict we discern a contradiction between the principles of `voluntary
participation' and `people's consent' that guided the formation of the Indian Union in 1947 and the
tendency of the GoI to co-opt princely states (including the Nagas) through coercion.
56

The conflict escalated into a war between India and the Nagas in 1954 when hundreds of thousands
of Indian army troops assumed control of the Naga Hills (see Mullick, 1972; Nibedon, 1983; Vashum,
2000). The Nagas, under the aegis of the Naga National Council (NNC), formed their own
government (called the Federal Government of Nagaland) by drawing up their own Constitution
called Yehzabo. The GoI enacted an extraordinary armed law called the Armed Forces (Special
Powers) Act (AFSPA) in 1958 in order to suppress the Naga movement for self-determination. This
Act accorded the GoI extraordinary powers that were not possible through the lapsed Terrorist and
Disruptive Activities (Prevention) Act of 1987 (TADA) and the Prevention of Terrorism Act of 2002
(POTA) (see Vashum, 2002). The AFSPA is still operating in many parts of the North-East region.
This war was followed by the creation of the Nagaland state in 1963. The state was not acceptable to
the NNC and larger sections of Naga society. Thus, a peace initiative, which spanned from 1964 to
1972, was launched to address Indo-Naga conflict, (see Aram, 1974; Gundevia, 1975; Haksar
Horam, 1988; Iralu, 1999; Ramunny, 1993; Vashum, 2000). Despite several rounds of talks, including
engagement at Prime Ministerial level, the negotiations failed. The main stumbling block remained
the divergence between the GoI's and the NNC's respective positions. The NNC insisted on complete
sovereignty/independence, while the GoI resisted the proposal of the Nagas. Subsequently, the Indo-
Naga war was resumed. In November 1975 there was a national emergency in India, and the GoI
had a few NNC leaders to sign an accord called the Shillong Accord 13 under duress (see Vashum,
2000). The Accord represented an instrument of surrender of NNC cadres to the GoI. Thus, the
NSCN was mandated in 1980 to spearhead the Naga struggle for self-determination under the
leadership of Isak Swu (then Vice-President of the NNC), Th. Muivah (then General Secretary of the
NNC) and S.S. Khaplang, a veteran leader of the NNC from eastern Nagaland (situated in Myanmar).
However, since the mid-1980s the GoI has made several attempts to launch dialogue with the Naga
leaders. After many attempts and gestures, P.V. Narasimha Rao, former Prime Minister of India,
made a breakthrough by winning the goodwill of the Naga (NSCN) leaders and so re-launched
another peace initiative in 1995. The formal ceasefire and peace process began on 1 August 1997.
As the previous dialogue, three terms were agreed on as the basis for peace talks: (1) the talks were
to be unconditional; (2) the talks were to engage the highest level of leadership, including the Prime
Minister of India; and (3) the venue of the talks was to be outside India. A Ceasefire Monitoring
Group (CMG or CFMG) was also constituted to oversee and guide the efficient functioning of the
agreed ceasefire and associated ground rules.
The dialogue gained significant support through the involvement of successive Prime Ministers of
India, the involvement of national and international civil society movements, and the overall moral
support of the world community.
In July 2004, the peace process was seven years old. So it would be pertinent to ask: What has been
achieved thus far? While there is no substantive answer, it is apparent that there are elements of
`insincerity' and so-called `compulsions', especially on the part of the GoI, that have impacted
negatively on the course of the current peace process.
57

RECONCILIATION, THE PEACEBUILDING PROCESS AND ITS IMPLICATIONS
Reconciliation and peacebuilding
Although reconciliation may seem irrelevant in the context of the peace process in the North-East
region, the Indo-Naga peace process will ultimately need to embrace elements of `reconciliation' and
goodwill. But can the Nagas `forgive' the Indians for killing thousands of Nagas, and torturing and
humiliating many more in the process of suppressing the Naga movement for self-determination?
Can the Indians in turn forgive some of the excesses committed by the Nagas against the innocent
civilians in the process of defending their right to self-determination?
The recent encouraging statement that the ``Government of India recognises the unique history and
situation of Nagas'' 14 (Vashum, 2002, p.93) represents a new development in the history of the peace
process between the GoI and the Nagas, since in itself it contains a process of admitting the `truth',
the basis for reconciliation. The statement reflects a growing commitment by the GoI to understand
the complexities and Naga claims in the Indo-Naga engagement. The Naga leaders' readiness ``to
understand ten times more if the Indians are willing to understand the situation of the Nagas'' 15 , will
perhaps boost the prospects for truth and reconciliation and ultimately peacebuidling.
Despite several hiccups and misunderstandings in the peace process, the negotiating parties seem
to have been investing their best efforts to address the hurdles.
PROSPECTS OF THE PEACEBUILDING PROCESS
By way of conclusion I offer comments on the conditions required to increase the prospects for
success in the Indo-Naga peace process. The success of the peace talks will depend a great deal on
the following factors.
Sincerity, political will and commitment: The importance of these factors in peace initiatives has been
frequently noted and reported in the media, with good reason. Accordingly, it is imperative for the GoI
to demonstrate that it is seriously committed to the peace process. Certain measures need to be
implemented to boost the peace talks, and to ensure that actions and policies that would jeopardise
the peace process, such as the GoI backtracking on the Bangkok Agreement on ceasefire coverage,
should not be repeated. The impact of the GoI backtracking on the Bangkok Agreement almost led to
the NSCN's withdrawal from peace talks. The timely intervention of civil society groups, particularly
Naga civil society groups, facilitated the NSCN's continued involvement in the peace talks.
On their part, the Nagas should demonstrate their commitment to solving the 55-year-old Indo-Naga
conflict even though there has been some misunderstanding between the GoI and the Nagas in the
course of the peace process.
Confidence building: The GoI and the Nagas should give due importance to confidence building. The
Nagas, for example, have experienced many instances of GoI betrayal, beginning with the Nine-Point
Agreement in June 1947.
58

Trust: Trusting each other is a great challenge for the two parties involved in peace talks. In other
words, they should be able to overcome the `mistrust' that could destroy the peace process.
Sensitivity and understanding: The parties concerned should be sensitive to, and uphold the agreedupon
principles, ground rules and issues under discussion.
Restraint: The negotiating parties should demonstrate maximum restraint. Any act or opinion that
could have a damaging effect on the peace dialogue should be avoided at all costs.
Creating an appropriate and peaceful situation: The GoI and the Nagas should consider the
importance of maintaining an appropriate atmosphere for continuing the peace talks. No matter how
difficult the challenges are in the course of the talks, the two parties, with the cooperation and support
of the public, should be determined to proceed until the goal of peace is achieved.
Addressing the core issues of conflict: The prospects of the peace process will depend on whether
the negotiating parties can sincerely address the core issues of the conflict. The success of the talks
will depend greatly on the ability of the negotiating parties to settle differences by accommodating the
difficulties and interests of both sides.
Role of political parties: The politicians have a major role to play in supporting the success of the
Indo-Naga peace process. The goodwill and cooperation of the various political parties will give the
process for settling the conflict a great boost. The political parties need to reach a broad consensus
on the peace process being a national issue that needs to be considered above party politics and
petty politicking. Hence, any political statements or actions that will jeopardise the peace process
should be avoided at all costs.
Involvement of civil society groups: Involvement of civil society groups, be it at local, regional,
national and/or international levels, will be of immense benefit to the ongoing peace process.
However, the involvement of civil society groups from Naga society and mainland India will be most
crucial. This process will involve creating a democratic space for the involvement of civil society
groups by the GoI on the one hand and the NSCN on the other.
Civil society groups are to act as facilitators, and to sensitise the population to the nature of the
conflict. Civil society groups could also be involved in the mobilisation of people's participation in the
peace process. The people should be kept informed on the development of the peace process
through documentation and dissemination of information. Civil society groups can also help maintain
peace and assist in the functioning of the ceasefire monitoring process. Civil society groups in the
North-East may also consider initiating inter-community dialogue to resolve problems in a peaceful
manner.
Role of the media: The media has been a very controversial player in the North-East conflict.
Misreporting by the media, distortion of information and/or providing partial information on relevant
issues and situations has often compounded the conflict in the North-East. The media has often
spawned suspicion among the people in the North-East by making unsubstantiated statements and
reports. The media needs to be more responsible in writing about the issues of the North-East,
59

particularly sensitive issues such as the ongoing Indo-Naga peace process. It should not succumb to
pressures from interest groups or its own prejudices.
Role of the intelligentsia: The role of the intelligentsia in building society or in conflict resolution has
always been crucial. However, not much has been done so far in this regard in the Indo-Naga peace
process. A few recent writings by Indian scholars on the Indo-Naga peace process have been largely
based on distorted sources, or the writers are themselves ignorant of the hard reality, or are not
addressing the core issues. The reluctance to follow the history and development of the Indo-Naga
peace process has been one of the main problems with most of the so-called scholars who claim to
be experts on North-East issues. Consequently, the mainland Indian intelligentsia is regarded with
suspicion by the North-East people. The intelligentsia therefore needs to undertake confidencebuilding
exercises in order for the people to consider the constructive and facilitative roles scholars
may play in the situation of conflict resolution and peacemaking.
NOTES
1. Recently, Sikkim has come to be considered part of the North East region. I have not mentioned
this in the article for technical reasons.
2. In the North-East, the concept of `self-determination' presents as multi-layered. The movements
in the region can be classified into two broad categories of self-determination Ð internal (those
struggling for autonomy and certain status within the framework of the Constitution of India), and
external (those struggling outside the framework of the Constitution of India).
3. The Nagas would also call it a `war of resistance' against the coercive occupation of Nagalim
(Naga Land) by India and Myanmar (erstwhile Burma).
4. The VIth Schedule to the Constitution of India offers some protective power and authority to the
districts coming under it. Such status is so far applicable to some of the North-East states of
India. The tribes of Manipur have been demanding such limited autonomy for over a decade.
Ironically, the Government of Manipur (Meitei/Manipuri dominated state) has not been willing to
concede this minimum demand, to the disappointment of the tribes. The tribes of Manipur have
now gone a step ahead by demanding the status of Union Territory.
5. Jharkhand state was formed in 2001. The region was previously part of Bihar state.
6. Manipur was once a princely state and merged with the Indian Union in October 1949, two
years after the formation of the Indian Union. Today, some sections of the Manipuris (Meiteis)
are up in arms against the merger of Manipur into the Union of India. According to them, the
then Maharaja (head of the Manipur princely state) signed the Merger Agreement in 1949 under
duress.
7. Assam has four conventional universities (including two central universities), Manipur has two
(including one agricultural university), Meghalaya has one (central university), Tripura has one
(state university), Nagaland has one (central university), Mizoram has one (central university)
and Arunachal Pradesh has one (state university).
8. Manipuri is also called Meiteilon in local dialect, which is language of the dominant Manipuri/
Meitei ethnic group.
9. The homeland is about 1 000 000 sq km and is situated in the Patkai range between longitude
60

938 E and 978 E and latitude 23 1/28 N and 288 N. Today, the Nagas are located within two
sovereign states Ð India (about 2/3 of the Naga population) and Myanmar (about 1/3 of the
Naga population). Even within India the Nagas are located in four administrative states, namely
Nagaland, Manipur, Arunachal Pradesh and Assam.
10. The Nagas refer to the unconquered Naga country as `Free Nagaland'. It is located mainly on
the north-western border of Myanmar.
11. The Naga areas referred to here represent just two-thirds of the Naga's territory. About one-third
of the Naga areas are located in Myanmar.
12. The Nine-Point Agreement was signed between the GoI, represented by the then Governor of
Assam, Sir Akbar Hydari, and the Nagas, represented by the Naga National Council. It was
agreed on during their meeting from 27-29 June, 1947.
13. The Shillong Accord was mainly an instrument of the Nagas' surrender to India. According to
the so-called Naga leaders who signed the Accord, the Accord was signed under duress.
14. The Indo-Naga Joint Communique was signed at Amsterdam on 11 July 2002.
15. The statement has been repeatedly made by Th. Muivah, the General Secretary of the NSCN,
and the chief Naga negotiator of the Indo-Naga dialogue, in his interviews with the press and
consultations with various concerned civil society groups.
REFERENCES
Alexander, Y. & Friedlander, R.A. (1980). Self-determination: National, regional, and global
dimensions. Boulder, Colo.: Westview.
Aram, M. (1974). Peace in Nagaland: Eight-year story 1964-72. New Delhi: Arnold-Heinemann.
Cassese, A. (1981). The self-determination of peoples. In L. Henkins (Ed.), The international bill of
rights: The covenant of civil and political rights (n.p.). New York: Columbia University Press.
Chen, L.C. (1976). Self-determination as a human right. In M. Reismann & B. Weston (Eds), Toward
world order and human dignity (pp. 198-262). New York: Free Press.
Cobban, A. (1969). The nation state and national self-determination. New York: Thomas Y. Cromwell.
Cobo, J.R.M. (1986). Study of the problem of discrimination against indigenous populations. UN Doc.
E/CN. 4/Sub. 2/1996/7/Add. 4, 29, paras 378-80.
Gundevia, Y.D. (1975). War and peace in Nagaland. New Delhi: Palit and Palit.
Haksar, N. & Luithui, L. (1984). Nagaland file: A question of human rights. New Delhi: Lancer
International.
Hannum, H. (1992). Autonomy, sovereignty, and self-determination: The accommodation of
conflicting rights. Philadelphia, USA: University of Pennsylvania Press.
Horam, M. (1988). Naga insurgency: The last thirty years. New Delhi: Cosmo.
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Iralu, N. (1999). A critical analysis of the Naga political struggle. In G.A. Ghevarghese (Ed.), Patkai
Christian College: The twenty fifth anniversary souvenir (n.p.). Chumukedima-Seithekema
(Nagaland): Patkai Christian College.
Mullick, B.N. (1972). My years with Nehru: 1948-1964. Bombay: Allied.
Nibedon, N. (1983). Nagaland: The night of the guerrillas. New Delhi: Lancers Publishers.
Ramunny, M. (1993). The world of Nagas. New Delhi: Northern Book Centre.
Sanajaoba, N. (1994). Right of nations to self-determination: Principles and practices. In N.
Sanajaoba (Ed.), Human rights: Principles, practices & abuses (pp. 38-65). New Delhi: Omsons.
Sanders, D. (1993). Indigenous peoples in the international stage. In W. Fernandes (Ed.), The
indigenous question: Search for an identity (n.p.). New Delhi: Indian Social Institute.
Vashum, R. (1996). Self-determination: Principles, meanings and practices. Indian Anthropologist,
26(1), 63-76.
Vashum, R. (1999). Nationality question in India: The Naga case. Social Action, 49(4), 413-430.
Vashum, R. (2000). Nagas' right to self-determination: Anthropological-historical perspective. New
Delhi: Mittal.
Vashum, R. (Ed.) (2002). The Indo-Naga Joint CommuniqueÂ. Naga Journal of Indigenous Affairs,
2(1).
62

CONFLICT MANAGEMENT IN THE
INDIAN SUBCONTINENT: THE
DIMENSIONS OF HINDU-MUSLIM
CONFLICT
Iqbal A. Ansari 1
Minorities Council and Human Rights Today
ABSTRACT
The Indo-Pak-Bangladesh subcontinent presents a particularly challenging case for the study and
development of appropriate models of conflict management for those who want to promote durable
peace and stability in the volatile Indian sub-continent where both India and Pakistan house nuclear
arms. In this article, I will provide a brief outline of some of the dimensions of the present communal
and regional conflict, and will highlight selected and salient features of a model for conflict
management as located within a human rights framework.
THE ROOTS AND NATURE OF THE INDO-PAK CONFLICT
In spite of the universally acknowledged fact that India fought a non-violent war of independence and
Indian claims to being inheritors of long-established traditions of spirituality and peace, that are
defining characteristic of their civilisation, the region has witnessed holocausts, wars and massacres
involving colossal loss of life, and the migration and internal displacement of millions of people. This
violence has characterised partition in 1947, Indo-Pak wars, the secession of Bangladesh in 1971,
and during periodic communal clashes in each country, especially in India where the threat of civil
war has been held out by those responsible for crimes against humanity in the west Indian Gujarat
state in February and March 2002. This discrepancy between the collective self-image of Indians,
especially Hindus, and the history of unpalatable violence constitutes one of the difficulties to be
surmounted in any attempt at building durable structures of peace.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
1. Please direct all correspondence to Iqbal A. Ansari, Minorities Council and Human Rights Today, 20, Jaswant Apartments, Okhla, New Delhi-110025, India;
Tel. + 0991 11 26324452; E-mail: iqbalansari2001@hotmail.com
63

Unlike South Africa, which was able to keep its territorial integrity intact, India at the moment of
liberation had to undergo the tragic experience of an irrational partition, which did not neatly divide
people into a Muslim Pakistan and a Hindu India. Muslims who continued to live in India constituted
about 10% of India's population in 1947, and are now more than 12%, unevenly distributed over
almost every part of India.
Some kind of Indo-Pak Truth and Reconciliation Commission (IP-TRC) would possibly have been
attempted if Mahatma Gandhi had not been assassinated. Such an IP-TRC may have dealt with a
focus on wider terms with the complex reality in the region and the discrepancies between self-image
and history. Gandhi's assassination resulted from his perceived appeasement of Muslim Pakistan,
and so was executed by a person associated with a Hindu nationalist militant organisation which
resented Gandhi's insistence that the Indian government grant Pakistan its due share of funds. Such
an IP-TRC might also have had the mandate to evolve ways and means of healing the wounds of
partition and to probe why and how things went wrong. Why, for example, was the idea of a loose
federation, or even confederation, not accepted, and why was any consociational model of power
sharing not given a chance?
The conditions under which Pakistan came into existence made its leadership apprehensive of
India's plans for its liquidation. Both the champions of Hindu Akhand Bharat and secular democratic
leaders of the Indian National Congress, including Nehru, failed to make Pakistanis feel that India
had wholeheartedly accepted them, and had stakes in the country's stability. Nehru is reported to
have said in defence of his acceptance of partition that ``may be in this way we shall reach that united
India sooner than otherwise'' (Mosley, 1961, p. 248; also see Menon, 1957). The ongoing sense of
threat and vulnerability Ð real or perceived among Pakistanis Ð caused by the physical and ethnic
separation of Pakistan's eastern wing, and the dispute over Jammu and Kashmir that also lead to
armed hostilities, caused the Pakistani elite to seek military aid. Consequently, Pakistan entered into
regional defence alliances such as the Southeast Asia Treaty Organisation (SEATO) and Central
Treaty Organisation (CENTO). Nehru in turn raised the alarm over these Pakistani responses,
characterising them as acts of war against India.
These adversarial relations were exacerbated by the superpower politics of the Cold War. Even
though Pakistani leaders offered common defence to India in its military confrontation with China in
1962, India waged war against Pakistan in 1965. Aside from the military costs, the Indo-Pak war
intensified the Indo-Pak national and Hindu-Muslim communal divide throughout the entire region.
The most affected victims were Indian Muslims who were, unofficially and on occasions officially,
treated as a suspect community in spite of the Indian Constitution guaranteeing equal rights to all
citizens, and minorities a collective right to a distinct cultural identity.
The hostilities intensified when India actively supported the dismemberment of Pakistan in 1971
through the formation of Bangladesh. For the Pakistani elite, especially its military, the humiliating
defeat in Dhaka, Bangladesh wounded its psyche because of its perception of India as the chief
architect of the secession. The Simla Agreement of 1972 offered an opportunity to Pakistan to rethink
its very ideological basis of existence in terns of religion-based nationalism, to escape the obsession
of completing the agenda of partition by acquiring control over Kashmir, and to normalise relations
with its neighbour. The year 1971 had the potential of becoming a turning point in the history of the
64

subcontinent, as the Hindu elite of all shades had felt reassured by what had been characterised as
the surrender of the Pakistani army in Bangladesh and as the weakening of Islamic militancy in India.
However, the path of reconciliation was not taken primarily because Pakistan at the time was ruled by
a leader who was inspired with the ambition of resisting perceived Indian hegemonic designs, and of
seeking parity with India, as was evident in the eloquent speech he delivered in the UN General
Assembly during the 1965 Indo-Pakistan war. In 1972 Bhutto prepared the blueprint of what he
characterised, in civilisational terms, as an Islamic bomb. He was partly led into this course by his
desire to escape being blackmailed by a nuclear India. India's nuclear arms status was confirmed by
the 1974 Pokharan test. The search for hegemonic power by one, and of parity of sorts by the other,
led eventually to Pokharan II and Chagai Hills.
Later in 1979 Soviet armed intervention in Afghanistan set Pakistan and India on divergent courses.
In spite of the apparently persistent efforts by the Pakistani military ruler from 1980 onward for a nonaggression
pact with India, and the latter's offer of treaty of friendship, neither India nor Pakistan
were motivated by any sense of the subcontinent's shared destiny. Pakistan had a strategic interest
in the disengagement of its forces from its eastern border and, given India's friendly relations with
and dependence on Soviet Russia, Pakistan could not afford to antagonise or even embarrass India.
Pakistan's excessive involvement with the armed-resistance (Jihadi) in Afghanistan, conditions in
Jammu and Kashmir, and India's mishandling of the Russian occupation of Afghanistan changed the
entire subcontinental scene 1 . India's refusal, especially after Nehru, to heed any voice of sanity, like
that of Jaya Prakash Narayan (see Narayan, 1964a, 1964b) who in 1964 highlighted the fate of the
people of Jammu and Kashmir by virtue of their accumulated unaddressed anger, found militant
expression between 1989 and 1990. The free flow of arms and Jihadi ideology arising in the wake of
armed resistance in Afghanistan provided fertile soil for the establishment of militant groups in
Jammu and Kashmir.
The last thirteen conflict-ridden years have witnessed innumerable episodes of brutality by the Indian
state's forces, including torture, custodial and encounter killings, disappearances, reprisal killings of
innocent civilians and gang rapes of women, as well as indiscriminate acts of terrorist violence, and
kidnapping and hostage taking of innocent people, including foreigners, by militant groups. This
period has also witnessed the mass migration of Kashmiri Pandits from the Kashmir valley, bringing
to the fore the communal dimension of the problem. In Jammu, militant attacks against innocent
Hindus brought home the same message of communal hate 2 . The armies of the two countries, fully
prepared for combat, were deployed on the border, facing each other for months. There were
occasions when threats involving the possible deployment of nuclear weapons were resorted to.
The search for nationhood: Illusion or reality
Nehru questioned whether Kashmir is the key problem or a symptom of the partition of minds, lands,
and the shared history and culture of a people. Is there a clash of civilisations at the heart of the
continually conflictual state of existence involving vast numbers of people? The question acquires
validity and relevance when we find that the creation of Pakistan, instead of solving British India's
Hindu-Muslim problem, aggravated it, as there are a larger number of Muslims in India than there are
in Pakistan. The Muslim community in India is periodically subjected to violence, justified by extremist
65

Hindus who seek legitimation for their aggression in the perceived wrongs committed by British India,
as well as during partition and within the context of medieval India when Muslim dynasties ruled over
the country. Medieval Muslim rulers are supposed to have been responsible for destroying temples,
ravaging the modesty of Hindu women, and for the forced conversion of infidel (Kafir) Hindus to
Islam. However, what is forgotten is that the indigenous overwhelming majority of Indian Muslims, on
embracing Islam, did not enjoy any share in power. Power and privilege were the exclusive domain of
the Muslim nobility from the alien lands and the collaborating Hindu castes.
British administrator-historians who in the wake of the 1857 revolt, perceiving Muslims as the greater
destabilising force, encouraged Hindus to revive the memory of a golden era of ancient Indian
history, which was supposedly destroyed by Muslim rulers. This ideologically suspect venture to
revive history and memory was avowedly motivated by the British policy of ``divide and rule'', which
alone could ensure the survival of British colonial rule in India 3 (also see Barrier, 1976; Siddiqui,
1993). Extending on its divide and rule policy, the British also in turn encouraged Muslims to develop
an exaggerated fear that their interests will not be adequately protected if the newly formed Indian
National Congress succeeded in securing independence.
However, the entire range, direction and varying intensity of Hindu-Muslim conflict in the 19th century
and the first four decades of the 20th century cannot only be explained in terms of British ``divide and
rule'' policy. During the early decades, independently of the British, sections of both Hindus and
Muslims had envisioned their separate destinies in exclusivist revivalist terms. Some members of the
modern educated elite, familiar with secular democratic parlance, from within the two communities,
were motivated and inspired by respective visions of Hindu and Muslim cultural aspirations, some of
which were traceable to the differences in the two religious traditions. It is possible to trace some of
the post-1857 Hindu-Muslim conflict to a clash over political and economic interests, described by
sociologists as intra-community and inter-community elites in competition for control over power and
resources. However, it would be a dangerous over-simplification to view the whole conflict over
identity-related issues as nothing more than an economic tool for mobilising the masses. Each of the
identity related issues, like cow protection, religious conversion, Urdu script, religious processions,
Bande Mataram (Indian song) and the sanctity of holy places and personages, which were
dexterously used for the political mobilisation of Hindus and Muslims, have a genuine core with the
capacity to move millions.
It is unfortunate that Nehru, a modernist influenced by Western secular and socialist thought and
practice, had a dismissive attitude to identity related issues. Mahatma Gandhi, whose discourse and
idiom were avowedly Hindu (though with a humane spiritual interpretation) and who conceived of
resolving communal conflict by recourse to the concept of the unity of all religions under the slogan of
Ram-Rahim, failed to touch Muslim imaginations. Hindus and Muslims, with a long history of living
together, could have succeeded in evolving a model of government and society if institutional
arrangements upheld law and convention, and consensual agreement accommodating both groups'
distinct sectoral and common national values, aspirations and interests.
The Westminster model of electoral systems frightened individuals such as Sir Syed Ahmad Khan,
thought to be the originator of the idea of Muslim nationalism, because of the Hindu numerical
dominance in representative institutions. Sir Syed Ahmad Khan feared that Hindus would try to settle
66

old historical scores with Muslims. His fears were rooted in the Hindu elite's desire to replace the
Persian script by the Nagri, and the emergence of Hindu revivalist movements, which were perceived
as anti-Muslim and which had caused periodic riots 4 (also see Mohammad, 1972).
One is struck by the lack of any creative attempt to develop a consociational model of power-sharing
(under the Proportional Representation electoral system and coalition form of government), sectoral
cultural autonomy and mutual veto within a federal polity, which could have kept a multi-cultural
country together. The Motilal Nehru Report of 1928 made the following significant observation: ``We
have no doubt that proportional representation will in future be the solution of our (communal)
problem. It offers the only rational and just way of meeting the fears and claims of various
communities'' (All Parties Conference, 1975, n.p). However, the Report did not recommend the
proportional representation system due to a lack of consensus about its workability.
The history of political and constitutional developments during 1927-1946 gives the impression that
the Hindu elite's preference for a strong centralised Indian state, based on what the Congress
resolutions confirmed as ``pure undiluted nationalism'' (Indian National Congress, 1934, n.p.),
contributed to partition becoming a reality. The post-1947 Indian state's experiment of managing its
diversity has however convinced everyone that the idea of a ``pure undiluted nationalism'' in India is
not workable. The idea of India as an undiluted nation state is what tore it apart. The search for parity
with Hindu India on the part of the Muslim elite, including Sir Syed and Bhutto, also contributed to
partition. In the rest of India, it became clear to the intellectual and political classes that India was not
a nation, but one in the making. Nation-building would have been successfully accelerated if the
concept of India's unity in diversity had been allowed to unfold within a plural, humanistic framework,
assuring humane citizen-centred governance, the rule of law, and observance of human rights
norms.
The nature of Hindu-Muslim conflict
In this section I will consider how Muslims have been treated, and examine why pre-independence
Hindu-Muslim conflict has yet to be resolved.
Settling old scores with Muslims and locating them in what is considered to be a proper place in
society started with the process of framing the Constitution. Although Mahavir Tyagi's proposal to
make the rights of minorities in India dependent on how Pakistan treated its minorities (Constituent
Assembly, 1947) was rejected by Dr. Ambedkar, partition did cast its shadow over the framing of the
Constitution. For example, safeguards for political and economic rights, provided for in the earlier
versions of Draft Constitution, were finally and unceremoniously scrapped 5 . The demand for the right
of the child to receive primary education in the mother tongue, unanimously made by Muslim
members, was not acceded to and included in the Constitution because G.B. Pant maintained that
having separate Urdu sections in schools would cost the exchequer a great deal of money. Moreover,
he maintained that Urdu was no different from Hindi and that those who were keen on their children
learning Urdu might send them to madrassas (Islamic schools) (Constituent Assembly, n.d). The
promise contained in Article 29(1), that distinct languages and scripts would be conserved, has
consequently remained a teasing illusion, at least for Urdu-speaking Indians.
67

During the debate a staunch nationalist Muslim, Hasrat Mohani, was told to go to Pakistan when he
made a fervent plea for the protection of the Urdu language. Articles 347 and 350(A), providing for
the use of minority languages for official and instructional purposes, are discretionary and not
mandatory in nature. Though some states, like Bihar and Andhra, Maharashtra and Himachal
Pradesh, have made provision for the official use of Urdu for specified purposes, the demand for its
becoming the second official language in the State of Uttar Pradesh has remained unfulfilled, and has
been causing communal tension and violence.
It must be stressed that the loss of the Urdu script by its users (who happen to be largely Muslims) is
a genuine grievance. The marginalisation of Urdu is best understood in the context of the fear of
cultural assimilation and disregard of Islamic religious teachings related to the regulation of relations
in the family. It is my contention that from a purely humanistic perspective, cultural pluralism validates
legal pluralism in family laws and so it is for the state to ensure that the right to cultural autonomy is
exercised in a manner consistent with norms of equity and justice for all parties, especially women.
In 1961 in Jabalpur communal riots were triggered by the news of the suicide of a Hindu girl in love
with a Muslim boy. The Hindu Rashtravadis wanted to teach the Muslim community a lesson for their
`historical role' of dishonouring Hindu women. Muslim houses were marked, just as was the case in
Gujarat in 2002. The communal violence was marked by killings and large-scale destruction of
property, especially residential houses.
The riots are reported to have shaken Prime Minister Nehru, who held the opinion that they were preplanned.
The failure of the police in intelligence-gathering for the prevention of violence and
subsequently in investigation and prosecution, which resulted in the acquittal of the rioters, has been
noted by Justice Shiv Dayal Shrivastava, who inquired into the riots at Jabalpur, Sagar, Damoh and
Narsimhapur in February 1961. A National Integration Committee was constituted, which
recommended, among other things, that the district administration should be held responsible for
failure to maintain peace and that appropriate action should be taken. In 1968 the National
Integration Council (NIC) made the recommendation that ``failure to take prompt and effective action
should be considered a dereliction of duty and officers concerned should be dealt with accordingly.
Service rules should be amended, if necessary'' (uncited source).
The 1961 NIC had made a significant recommendation to suitably amend the Section 153(A) of the
Indian Penal Code for the prevention and prosecution of hate speech. That these recommendations
were not taken seriously is obvious from the observations of the Raghubar Dayal Commission Report
on riots in Ranchi, Sholapur, Malegaon and other places in 1967. The Commission noted that ``the
general impression has been that either there was no police force to deal with the mischief makers or
it had direction not to act'' (cited from Noorani, 1997, n.p.).
In Ahmedabad in 1969 a fracas was witnessed between a group of boys, enjoying a local fair near
the revered Jagannath Hindu temple, and sadhus returning with their cattle in the evening. The
fracas led to stone throwing, and one stone hit and broke the glass pane of the temple's panel, which
contained the revered Murti 6 The word soon went round that malicious Muslims had attacked the
temple and killed sadhus. Retaliatory violence ultimately resulted in the loss of 2000 innocent lives,
68

destruction of property, and the desecration and damage to holy Muslim shrines. One thousand
people were forced to live in camps, mostly under the open sky.
My investigation revealed that the accidental hitting of the panel of the temple had been associated
with the destruction of the Somnath temple by Mahmood Ghazni about a thousand years ago. The
local Dharm Raksha Samiti and Hindu Sangram Samiti, which campaigned for retaliation, reminded
Hindus of the historical role of Muslims as destroyers of temples, and claimed that again Hindu
Dharma faced a threat from the Muslims. One of the leaflets published by Hindu Sangram Samiti
stated: ``Muslims have meanly attacked Ahmedabad's famous Jagannath Temple and desecrated its
idols. Muslims are repeating history. Their main aim is not only to destroy maximum possible Hindu
temples but to destroy Hindu religion and culture and to convert Hindus to Islam'' (Ansari, 1970, n.p.).
The leaflet exhorted Hindu youth to ``avenge insult to our Temples and ladies and rush to Muslim
areas with weapons and finish them'' (Ansari, 1970, n.p.). Apart from the exhumation of a thousand
year old `history', Pakistan was a living presence in the minds of people who were warned by the
Jana Sangh leader, Balraj Madhok, while addressing the Rifle Training Club on 14 September 1969,
of imminent attack from Pakistan in the states of Gujarat and Rajasthan. The ensuing violence, apart
from taking a very heavy human toll, destroyed a large number of mosques.
In Baroda, another city in Gujarat affected by communal violence, a slogan on the wall asked
Muslims to ``Quit India''. A number of posters appeared appealing to Hindus to subject Muslims to
complete social and economic boycott, which was repeated during the communal violence in 2002.
The then military ruler of Pakistan, General Yahya Khan, had gone public saying that he had ordered
his men to seal the border with India against any infiltration of Muslim refugees. He, however,
exploited the events in Gujarat in 1969 to deny any official presence of the Indian Muslim delegation
in the Rabat Conference of the Organisation of Islamic Conference.
The partisan role of the police during the initial phase of the Gujarat massacre is evident in the title of
the Asia Watch Report on Gujarat 2002, ``We have no orders to save you'' (Human Rights Watch,
2002). My own inquiry into this first large-scale Gujarat pogrom against Muslims revealed that the
police connivance and complicity were partly caused by communal bias on the part of the police
personnel, and mainly by their dependence on policy directions from the political executive.
Bhattacharjea's (1969) report on the 1969 Ahmedabad communal violence does not attribute the first
three days of rioting to police inaction, but to the policy of the secular Congress Government.
Bhattacharjea's conversations with Congress leaders revealed that if the Congress government had
instructed the police to be firm with the rioters, Congress might have lost the next elections to the
Jana Sangh. No prosecution was lodged against those who had distributed handbills inciting people
to violence in the name of protection of Dharma. Similarly, the Justice D.P. Madon Commission,
which inquired into riots in Bhiwandi, Jalgaon and Mahad in 1970, reported blatant communal bias
against Muslims to be present in the entire law-enforcement machinery (cited from Ansari, 1997).
That the police force in India does not function as an impartial law enforcement agency, but as a
subordinate body to enforce the policies of the government of the day, was noted by the Nahond
Police Commission (NPC) in its Reports (1978-81). The Commission attributed police partiality to the
continuation of the 1861 Police Act, which formalised the police's command-control system, and
69

oriented it as a ruler-appointed body. The NPC made the recommendation that the police force be
reorganised in order to enable it to function independently of government policy, accountable to the
law. The recommendations, endorsed by the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC), the
National Commission for Minorities (NCM) Report on Communal Riots: Prevention And Control
(1999) (Minorities Council, 1999) and by several human rights organisations, have not been
implemented.
Apart from the politics of Ram Mandir, the uniform civil code, conversion and other ethno-religious
identity issues, primarily the fragility of the institutional mechanism of rule of law has proved
disastrous for Hindu-Muslim, Hindu-Sikh and Hindu-Christian relations in India. The massacre of
3000 innocent Sikhs in 1984 in Delhi may be attributed to this system of partial policing. Dara Singh,
the killer of Graham Staines 7 and his two sons, was emboldened to commit the heinous crime
because he was not brought to justice for his earlier anti-Muslim criminal acts.
As another illustration, the demolition of Babri Masjid happened because the district administration
and the police carried out the partisan orders of the Chief Minister, disregarding their duty under law.
The justice delivery system is also characterised by a pervasive climate of impunity, and distortion
and miscarriage of justice, thereby becoming a major source of communal and other inter-group
violence in India.
While it is imperative to fully appreciate the historical basis of the conflict, we should note that the
contemporary communal conflict in India, which peaked during 1990-1992 in Ayodhya and in Gujarat
in 2002, may be traced back to 1981 when a few hundred former untouchables in Meenakshipuram
in Tamil Nadu converted to Islam en-masse. This mass event seems to have revived and intensified
the sense of siege which Hindus have been nursing since the publication of census data in 1881,
which showed a gradual decline in the Hindu population. The mass conversion made almost all of
Hindu India, including Mrs. Indira Gandhi, pay attention. It set the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP) upon
a determined course of consolidating the protection of Hindus' interests and controlling perceived
Muslim assertiveness and ascendancy. While it may not have been widely and explicitly noted, the
VHP policy of observing Muslim population growth invoked possible alarm about the all-time high
percentage of Muslim members elected to the Lok Sabha (parliament) in the general elections of
1980 and 1984. Whereas earlier there were between 21 and 35 Muslim members of parliament, their
numbers peaked to 49 in 1980 and 46 members in 1984. This was the time when the VHP initiated
its Hindu mobilisation project over Ayodhya mosque. The mobilisation was intensified by what
appeared to be the secular Congress government's continuing appeasement of Muslims, especially
when it enacted a law, Muslim Women (Protection of Rights on Divorce) 1986, in accordance with the
Islamic Shariah (law).
The period of the 1980s also brought into focus the wider Indo-Pak conflict, intensifying the existing
Hindu sense of siege and threat supposedly presented by Islam and Muslims. Violent opposition to
Indian presence in Kashmir further aggravated the sense of siege among Hindus.
All of the issues like the controversy surrounding the status of the Ayodhya, cow, conversion, Bande
Mataram and Personal Law, that have been politically exploited in pursuit of a narrow chauvinistic
Hindu agenda and a communalised mythic reading of history, characterised Muslim-Hindu relations
70

in India for a long time. During phases of the freedom movement they were politically exploited. But
this historical conflict should not make us assume a dismissive attitude in the name of secularism.
We must not ignore the fact that Article 48 of the Constitution does specially direct the state to take
steps to prohibit the slaughter of cows and calves, in the name of the science of animal husbandry.
State laws providing for the prohibition of the slaughter of cows have been upheld by the apex court
despite constitutional values favouring secularism and minority rights. Irrespective of the legality of
laws on cow slaughter, the point to be borne in mind is that these laws reflect the strong religious
sentiments of large sections of the population, leading us to the conclusion that there is a political
cow and a sacred cow. As in the case of the cow, there is a political Rama 8 , as admitted by L.K.
Advani in his deposition before the Liberhan Commission, and there is a sacred Rama. To be able to
deal effectively with the political Rama, peacemakers and peacebuilders will have to accommodate
the sacred Rama.
TOWARDS COMMUNAL AND REGIONAL SECURITY AND PEACE
Given our holistic understanding of the phenomenon of communal violence, we recommend a twofold
approach. First we need the establishment of an institutional mechanism supportive of the rule of law.
Second, we need to tackle aggressive ideologies, including exclusive Hindu militant nationalism and
militant Muslim Jihadist ideologies focused only on armed-struggle. Effective laws to prevent and
punish hate speech, uphold the right to freedom of speech, guarantee the rights of victims of all
public violence, and that enshrines legal procedures to establish official responsibility for acts of
commission or omission are central to the prevention of communal violence. In order to use legal
mechanisms effectively, it is necessary that the personnel of law-enforcement machinery are not
communalised in their attitudes and composition. Priority should be accorded to making the staff
composition of the governance system, including the policing system, socially diverse and free from
biases.
Most of these reform measures have already been suggested in the reports of the NIC (1961; 1968),
NPC (1978-81), NHRC (1994, 2002), NCM (1999) and the Union Home Ministry's Guidelines (1997).
The most comprehensive is the Report of the Concerned Citizens' Tribunal on Gujarat (Concerned
Citizens Tribunal, 2002).
Civil society and peace
However, we need to note that in a traditional society like India contentious ethno-religious issues like
Ayodhya, the cow, conversion, Bande Mataram and Urdu, which have been a source of communal
conflict for more than a century and a half, cannot be left to be resolved by law alone. Rule of law is a
necessary but not a sufficient condition for durable communal peace. It requires civil society
initiatives to bring about conciliation through dialogue between the parties in an atmosphere of trust,
mutual respect and accommodation. A South African court, giving its decision on a dispute between
Christians and Muslims on the issue of use of amplifiers for azan (the calling to prayers in the
mosques), ruled that while the Muslims had a right to use amplifiers for azan, the timing and volume
had to be settled by community leaders themselves. In such issues, there is a role for law and a role
71

for dialogue. Without the protection of the law, the weaker party will have to submit to the dictates of
the strong, but absence of mechanisms of dialogue will make the parties unable to work out a winwin
solution, which can produce peace dividends, especially for the weaker party.
Communal conflict in India will continue to be exacerbated by the absence of firm institutional
mechanisms to assure the rule of law and of dialogue. It should, however, be realised that there can
be no meaningful dialogue between the hate-mongering tormentors, who threaten to impose their
majoritarian will in defiance of law onto the minority, and the oppressed weaker party who feels hurt
and humiliated. In order to understand the requisites of successful dialogue, it is vital to grasp the
background of the two decades of confrontation and the politics of identity, described earlier.
In particular, conciliation over contentious communal issues is required so that unresolved issues are
not politically exploited in any dubious attempts to polarise the population for electoral gains. Such
conciliation would require inter- and intra-community dialogue around issues related to the equal
rights of all persons as citizens and as members of identity-based communities, the rule of law, and
the censure of hate speech.
Other statutory measures
Alongside these recommended civil society initiatives, there is a need for an empowered statutory
Community Relations Commission (CRC) that is focused on the monitoring, prevention, resolution
and review of all inter-group conflicts based on religion, language or ethnicity. In a country of India's
diversity and history of conflict, such a Commission, as opposed to the ad hoc NIC which lacks any
mandate or structure for research and monitoring, will be required to promote social and cultural
harmony, peace and stability. The CRC, which was also recommended by the NCM Report on
Communal Riots (Minorities Council, 1999), could focus on promoting dialogue and upholding the
rule of law. In the event of facilitating any agreement between parties to a dispute, the CRC and its
regional and local branches, working in liaison with NGOs, may be responsible for enforcing the
terms of the agreement. In the event of failed dialogue or breach of terms of an agreement, the CRC
could be empowered to initiate legal action against the erring party and act to censure hate speech.
The CRC could be assisted by special Intelligence Units and Special Prosecutors. The CRC should
also have some influence in the appointment of an Inquiry Commission that probes the determinants
of communal violence and allocates responsibility. The Commission's apex Advisory Council should
include representatives from all political parties, eminent public figures and intellectuals, all of whom
ought to be appointed according to agreed-on procedures, thereby ensuring the independence of the
CRC.
The CRC might also consider appointing a Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) if and when
such a TRC is considered advisable by consenting communities, and when the Advisory Council
determines that it would facilitate better and lasting peace and justice.
Indo-Pak-Bangladesh peacebuilding
In order to facilitate Indo-Pak-Bangladesh regional peace, I suggest the adoption of the South Asian
72

Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC) Human Rights Convention and institutions. Instead of
limiting measures to an Indo-Pak Confederation or no-war pacts, the European Union may be a
pertinent model for the SAARC to adopt. Such a model could include a focus on regional human
rights conventions, special instruments for the promotion of the rights of minorities, refugees, migrant
workers, asylum seekers and members of divided families, provisions for SAARC Commissioners for
Human Rights, Minorities and Non-Citizens, and SAARC Human Rights Courts. Special attention
needs to be granted to formalising mechanisms for the harmonisation of security concerns of all
member states and for the resolution of inter-state disputes.
The SAARC Charter adopted in Dhaka, Bangladesh on 8 December 1985 is based on recognition of,
among other things, the desire to promote peace, stability and amity in the region. The Dhaka
Declaration adopted by heads of governments in 1985 makes more explicit that peace and security
are essential prerequisites for the promotion of the welfare and prosperity of all the region's people.
The Charter also takes due cognisance of the fact ``that in an increasingly interdependent world the
objectives of peace, freedom, social justice and economic prosperity are best achieved by mutual
understanding, good neighbourly relations and meaningful cooperation among the countries of South
Asia which are bound by ties of history and culture'' (uncited source).
In view of these broad principles it would be appropriate for the Charter to include the objective of
promoting peace in the region and protecting the human rights of all individuals and communities.
Disputes among neighbours are bound to arise. If recourse to war is to be replaced by the rule of law
in international relations, then the parties to a dispute must be willing to be subjected to the process
of adjudication, arbitration and reconciliation through third-party mediation. It does not make any
sense to treat bilateral negotiation as the only lawful method of resolving disputes between two
parties, individuals, groups or nations. In this regard, priority needs to be given to a multi-lateral
SAARC treaty on the use of force in settling disputes. Such a treaty must be based on the four
Geneva Conventions of 1949 and optional protocols. If pursued with genuine commitment to peace,
such a treaty will end all indiscriminate and unlawful use of force in the region.
In negotiations regarding Kashmir, Pakistan would be well advised not to adopt a narrow national
perspective based exclusively on legal terms. This article calls on Pakistani people, especially the
more enlightened sections of its citizenry and civil society, to assert their voice so that the ruling elites
adopt a more humanistic perspective and consider the welfare of all the region's people, including
Indian Muslims, when arriving at an agreement on the Kashmir dispute.
NOTES
1. Unfortunately, unprincipled opportunistic Indian policy of appeasement of the Soviet Union during
the period of its occupation of Afghanistan did not elicit any strong protest from the `peace and
democracy' forums in India. India's principled position might have helped Afghan resistance to
become broadly democratic and reconsider its strategy of armed-struggle.
2. Under the forum of the Coordination Committee on Kashmir, constituted jointly with Justice V.M.
Tarkunde and others, the author inquired into human rights violations by state forces and militant
groups in June-July 1991 and October 1992. The latter inquiry included the case of gang rape of
73

women in Chaksaidapor in Shopian district of Kashmir. Besides these two, the Committee
brought out four other reports based on inquiries by teams comprising Justice V.M. Tarkunde and
others. Amnesty International and Asia Watch/Human Rights Watch, New York have also been
publishing periodic reports on human rights violations in Kashmir.
3. ``Divide et impera should be the motto for our Indian administration whether political, civil on
military, wrote a British scholar under the nom-de-plume ``Caranaticus'' in the Asiatic Journal, May
1821.
4. Sir Syed Ahmed Khan believed that the earliest foreboding of Hindus and Muslims drifting apart
and seeking their separate destinies emerged with the Nagri Parcharni Sabha resolution
demanding the introduction of Hindi as an official language in 1967. The controversy over Urdu is
recorded in the Institute Gazethe, Aligarh, edited by Sir Syed Ahmad Khan (24 January 1867; 31
October 1868; 12 November 1868; 27 November 1868; 2 July 1869; 3 January 1873).
Apprehension about out-numbered Muslims living at the mercy of the Hindu majority found its
early frank expression in Sir Syed's speech in the Legislative Council on 12 January 1883.
5. Articles 292 and 294, dealing with population-based seats in central and state legislatures; Article
296, dealing with consideration of minorities in public services; and Article 299, dealing with
Minority Officers to monitor and supervise implementation of safeguards for minorities, adopted in
August 1947, were scrapped in May and October 1949.
6. Murtis are deities or images used by Hindus during worship as points of devotional and
meditational focus.
7. Graham Staines was a Christian missionary from Australia who worked with lepers in Orissa, and
was burnt alive in January 1999.
8. In Hindu folklore Rama is the epitome of chivalry and courage, and obedience to sacred law.
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Short Research Reports
REFLECTIONS ON TRUTH AND
RECONCILIATION
Hiren Gohain 1
English Department, Gauhati University
The South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission appears to have made a focused endeavour
to heal divisions in a multi-ethnic society. If, as argued, these efforts were based on principles and not
on expediency, it is imperative to identify such principles for application in other contexts and
situations. When a state institution or a community is involved in crimes against its citizens or another
community, is it necessary to investigate those crimes after a political settlement has been achieved,
or turn our back on them and regard them as an episode of temporary insanity and a panic reaction?
Or would this be regarded as an attempt to expand our understanding of politics through the
application of human values?
The modern world is rife with political tensions which frequently erupt into conflict and violence. A
case in point is the ongoing war of aggression in the Middle East, which is waged in scornful defiance
of world public opinion. Can a dialogue on truth and reconciliation have any relevance against this
backdrop? It could be argued that the legacy of violence and conflict has itself been responsible for
placing such endeavours on the agenda. But can there be genuine reconciliation between interests
and views that are irreconcilably opposed? Could this not be interpreted as a disingenuous
suppression of fear and resentment, suspicion and pain?
It is necessary to emphasise that reconciliation can occur only in the case of antagonists who form
some kind of a dialectical unity, say, between a colonial power and a colonised nation 1 , between
imperialism and its victims, or between an oppressive state and a small, weak minority group. Those
who dominate situations of conflict and social inequity make large claims about truth, which appear
dubious to impartial outside observers. Such pretence of unity, it is perhaps believed, will be replaced
by genuine unity once antagonism has been overcome. Hence, epistemological and social
reconstruction appear to be two aspects of the same enterprise.
Reconciliation in this context does not mean wishing away conflict and difference, but engaging the
conflictual situation explicitly with a view to adopting a less partial and broader perspective. Given
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
1. Please direct all correspondence to Hiren Gohain, English Department, Gauhati University, Guwahati-3, Assam, India.
76

that the basis of reconciliation is justice, and not mere accommodation, the replacement of a colonial
order by a native regime does not in itself meet the needs of justice. Mere withdrawal of an aggressor
from a country's soil is also not enough. Remorse should include full compensation for the damage
done, and a confession of the injustices committed. Vietnam is a clear example of such a lapse,
suggesting that only when arrogance is replaced by tragic acceptance of the historical destiny of
humans, can true reconciliation follow.
T.S. Eliot aptly summed up the situation when meditating on the deep divisions that characterised
English society in the 17th century and still continue to haunt it to this very day.
History may be servitude
History may be freedom ...
We cannot revive old factions
We cannot restore old policies
Or follow an antique drum,
These men and those who opposed them
And those whom they opposed
Accept the Constitution of Silence
And are folded in a single party.
Whatever we inherit from the fortunate
We have taken from the defeated
What they had to leave us
A symbol:
A symbol perfected in death.
(Four Quartets: ``Little Gidding'')
Of course the quiet pathos and subdued pain of these lines may belong in the context of religious
meditation. The suffering and pain of history are transfigured, rendered meaningful ex post facto by a
Christian view of time redeemed. On a more mundane level, we could say time heals old wounds in
society as much as in the individual. However, the project of truth and reconciliation boldly lifts into
consciousness what takes place beneath the threshold of consciousness. So justice is what we are
reconciled to, however difficult it is.
The great works of literature correct the myopia of people who are possessed by confident visions of
social engineering, without any sense of history. Eliot prompts the idea that we inherit the guilt of our
fathers in more than a factual sense, and that the project for future life should include coming to
terms with that guilt. It is not religious dogma to hold that social crimes have a tendency to linger long
after the perpetrators and their victims have left the scene. The structure of society and the way of life
that permitted such crimes often survive them, are reinforced by them, and may yet again see their
recurrence. In this respect, the communalism that led to the horrendous massacres of the partition
days in India has not disappeared despite the best efforts of secular-minded leaders for several
decades.
It could even be argued that in any social ideology the prevailing mode of rhetoric and reasoning
77

perpetuates implicit violence. An Oriental such as Edward Said was needed to retrace steps into the
past and discover that the self-definition of an awakened, modern Europe in the 17th to 18th
centuries required a demonisation of its other, the Orient, which it sought to dominate. This image
was the product of a particular discourse, but the discourse itself, Said declared, had been intimately
linked to the rise of a certain regime of power. So as stated earlier, epistemology and social
development coincide.
Some say that we still live in the dark ages of history, when the other, against whom we define
ourselves, becomes the enemy, a veritable threat to our existence. We tend to deny his/her human
identity as a matter of course. It is often said that post-modern enlightenment has rid us of such
superstitions. But even long before that, Buddhist ethics encouraged the abandonment of racial and
cultural pride (see Lessing & Wayman, 1993). The Brahman priests of later times also retained
something of this ethos. To Francois Bernier, a physician, scientist, and 17th century inquisitive
traveller, who was armed with scientific reason and intolerant Protestant faith, Hindu priests replied
as follows: ``We believe God has given to each people its own path to salvation. We respect the path
you are following to God, but we prefer to follow our own'' (uncited source). But Bernier chose not to
heed this message. Ruth Benedict, in her Patterns of culture (1934), quotes an old American Indian
tribal chief who remarked that different peoples of the world drew out of the same well, the water of
life, but in cups of different shapes. These ideas at least remind us that long before the advent of
postmodernism, people had from time to time expressed tolerance and respect for traditions other
than their own. Even feudal empires did not attempt cultural hegemony, but cultivated at pluralism
and local autonomy as long as the rulers received tribute. In the state of Assam in India, for example,
ethnic self-rule was allowed under the political overlordship of the Ahom rulers.
The rise of the modern nation-state, however, witnessed an earnest and systematic endeavour to
standardise laws, cultural practices and language. As a result, many smaller and weaker groups
suffered physical and mental humiliation at the hands of the hegemonising dominant group. It is on
account of this ideal that Bosnian Muslims were nearly exterminated. National oppression has
reached a new level of brutality in unstable nation-states that have emerged out of arbitrary
arrangements of colonial empires. The practice of ``ethnic cleansing'' is rooted in the main in the
policies and actions of former colonisers. The European eradication of so-called ``savages'' in
America is an illustration of ethnic cleansing.
This proclivity for ethnic cleansing and associated cycle of unending violence continues to dominate
the global scene. Jews, who for ages have endured the agony of oppression, now seem intent on
visiting the same horrors on Palestinian Arabs in Israel. In Assam, armed groups of ethnic militants
rebelling against the oppression of the dominant community, now take it out on equally helpless
families of the dominant community in the area of their influence. Border wars on a small scale have
become endemic among states of the same union in North-East India. Scores of Bodos were gunned
down by the police in Assam, and according to a report in the Assam Assembly on 30 March 2003,
the Bodo militants, in turn, killed 923 non-Bodos in the period 1988 to 2003.
Violent domination was set in motion by the colonial empires of the 19th century. During the recent
process of decolonisation, former colonial powers effected a transfer of power to small leading
sections of the aggrieved colonised societies on terms advantageous to themselves, disregarding the
78

plight of other smaller and even weaker groups settled in the same territory. The new rulers seem to
follow in the footsteps of the former masters because they are unwilling to make a radical break with
the historical structures of economy and government. This ultimately gives rise to intra-group tension
and disaffection, as well as plots by entrenched groups to divert them into inter-communal violence.
There is strong evidence to suggest that British rulers periodically fomented communal riots in India
by exploiting pre-existing differences to safeguard their domination of the country until this culminated
in the pre-partition blood bath.
Many contemporary conflicts and disputes seem to have their genesis in colonial history. It is
customary today to blame Robert Mugabe, President of Zimbabwe, for encouraging his followers to
use violent methods to seize farmland from law-abiding British residents. However, those who point
fingers have conveniently forgotten that the most fertile and productive parts of the country had been
seized in colonial times through violence and chicanery by the ancestors of those settlers, leaving
native Zimbabweans the poorest barren soil.
Therefore the role of power in shaping human institutions must be carefully considered in our
deliberations about truth and reconciliation. The author does not, however, subscribe to the anarchist
view that the structure of all human relations ranging from parent-child and teacher-pupil to that
between friends and lovers is determined by power relations, because such relations also promote
human growth and well-being to mutual benefit. We must consider why the treatise of Kautalya in
ancient India or Machiavelli's treatise in Renaissance Europe, focused on how the consolidation of
the state led to increasingly vicious and cruel manipulation of human beings and public opinion.
The separation of the state from society and of the professions from people at large seems to have
served the imbalances of power. While the state still professed to serve social goals, it was actually
serving the narrower interests of social elites and the ruling classes. Hence, the power of the state to
control and hold down the masses, by fair or foul means, gradually becomes the defining
characteristic of the state. Yet, it is precisely because of this development and consolidation of class
power that the danger of internal violence increased manifold.
While politics was being reduced to the management, if not worship, of the state, there was a rival
tradition marked by social and ethical concern, such as that to be found in the quest for the elusive
Dharma 2 in the Mahabharata, and the Christian Humanism of Sir Thomas More. In the Mahabharata,
Yudhisthira questions the dictates of the duties of Kshatriyas, the warrior-caste, in an unceasing
endeavour to arrive at a universal human ideal. Sir Thomas More sardonically mentions the
encroachment of enterprising landlords on the sheep farms of the small farmer, reducing him to
beggary. His rationality, unlike capitalist rationality in the 19th century, does not endorse such
practices (see Hooper, 1962; Horkheimer, 1947).
Perhaps we are on the edge of a new realisation arising from which the pain and suffering caused by
the age of contesting nation-states and aggressive imperialism. Consider the new custom of offering
apologies and restitution to the descendants of victimised groups for the crimes and injustices of the
forefathers of a group or nation. From the perspective of legal rationality, this might appear irrelevant
and meaningless. But if the present generations are beneficiaries of privileges established by force,
then this is an acknowledgement of material responsibility. Likewise, the South African Truth and
79

Reconciliation Commission (TRC) appears to be an attempt to return to the politics of this obscured
ethico-social message.
The fact that all over the world today there is such a massive, spontaneous outcry against the
outrage of the war on Iraq, shows that events of our time are stretching the narrow bounds of the
nation-state towards wider horizons. There is a dawning consciousness that truth is not a power
regime, but a form of self-transcendence that offers a fair hearing to all points of view. Since truth is
admittedly different from ideology, and there is no immediate, uncontested intuition of truth in the
world, an authoritative articulation of truth can only come about through patient negotiation of
difference and conflict of interest. This inevitably includes a phase of struggle.
Why was it considered necessary to establish a TRC in South Africa? Why did South Africa not
follow the usual practice of extending general amnesty to all those guilty of brutal violation of human
rights and hope that the memory of such brutalities would be erased in the near future? The
Commission appears to have been an attempt to reject the secretive and top-down method of
reaching consensus. The public was taken into confidence so that they set their seal of approval on
what was in fact a serious compromise without any reservation. The state was to be reborn as an
instrument of society.
Even though force and violence as a means of settling disputes have not been eliminated, in most
cases, however bitter and bloody the conflict, there is always hope that one day it will be settled in a
manner acceptable to both parties. The hope of reconciliation must be kept alive, and the spirit of
accommodation must moderate the passion for one's just rights.
Sometimes conflict refers to a past dispute, a dispute that rankles in the present, such as the conflict
between China and Japan on the crimes committed by the invading Japanese army against the
Chinese people in the 1930s and 1940s. Similar disputes exist on the atrocities committed mutually
by rioting Hindus and Muslims during the partition of India.
Memories of such events are not erased even when we move into a new phase of history and attend
to a new agenda. It is always possible for a mischievous party or force to dredge up from a
bottomless reservoir, memories of violence, brutality, pain and horror, and the unquenched thirst for
revenge. These tend to fuel the flame of ever-recurring hatred and violence.
It is therefore of utmost importance to overcome our natural shame and revulsion, and confront the
horror perpetrated by us or by our brethren. To confess to such horrible crimes is to acknowledge the
humanity of our victims, rescue them from the anonymity of abstract hatred, and realise our own
grievous lapse from humanity. It is to ask forgiveness and seek help from our fellow-beings in our
attempt to recover our lost or impaired humanity. To be able to forgive is also to overcome a blockage
in the heart, and begin the healing of a mind divided against itself. It has come to the author's
attention that a number of Assamese youths who had participated in a chauvinist frenzy in a
massacre of immigrant Muslim children at Nellie 3 in 1983, had been driven insane by the memory of
the horrors they themselves had perpetrated.
Some might dismiss such stories as sentimental and question whether we can conceive of
forgiveness for fascist criminals or demented perpetrators inspired by suspect ideologies. There is no
80

question that those guilty of mass-murders, of diabolical plans to inspire and organise such
massacres, or unleash systematic torture and persecution on selected targets for their views and
thoughts, must be named and brought to book. But will mere punishment suffice if they are regarded
as martyrs by later followers? However romantic it may sound, it would be far better if they are
persuaded to realise the horror of what they had done and to express remorse.
After all, the uninvolved German citizen was also guilty. One only has to recall Pastor Niemoller's
admonition: ``When the Gestapo came and took away the Jews from my neighborhood, I did not
bother because it did not concern me. When the Gestapo took the Communists away, again I
remained unconcerned. When they came for the dissident democrat, yet again I remained silent. And
when the Gestapo came to drag me to prison, there was no one around to raise his voice for me''
(uncited source).
We cannot therefore escape guilt and responsibility by pointing to others, or by taking shelter behind
the separation of the state from society. We too need forgiveness, as do the perpetrators of explicit
crimes. Through the admission of our own fallible humanity we earn the right to forgive. To forgive is
therefore not to claim high moral ground, but to recognise the common ground between the so-called
``sinners'' and ourselves.
Truth in this sense is closer to the psychoanalytic idea of reality and the prescription to accept such
reality. It means overcoming irresponsible fantasy or regressive blocks. Yet, one is reconciled to
others through reconciliation with the temptations and failings of the self. However, here there
appears to be evidence of an extension of the classical psychoanalytical image of the self in sole
confrontation with the world. The world and truth are to be regarded as collaborative constructions of
many different selves.
The eruptions of various terrorist movements 4 all over the world, and their eventual recognition
through deals struck at different stages with states opposed to them, have led to recurring cycles of
amnesia. Once a political settlement is reached, atrocities committed by both the state and terrorist
movements are all quickly forgotten. However, the costs of such an amnesia appear too high in times
of inconsolable human suffering and irreparable loss. A point has been reached when some writers,
traditionally the conscience-keepers of society, have turned away from highlighting the futility of
wanton violence. However, the newly devised exercise of reaching truth through reconciliation,
properly undertaken and undergone, will be a rite of passage for transition to nobler and more mature
human societies.
NOTES
1. Colonialism in disguised forms is still alive and well in many parts of the world and bedevils
international politics. South Africa may indeed be regarded as a special case of colonialism,
where people from metropolitan countries settled in the land of, and among the people they
exploited, and deliberately erected barriers against their assimilation into their country of adoption.
According to the 1996 Census, the poorest 40% of South Africa receive 3% of the national
income, while the richest 10% enjoy over 50% of that income. The weakness of the economy
81

inherited from the past compelled the African National Congress (ANC) government to adopt the
GEAR (Growth, Employment and Redistribution) policy, which in fact subscribes to the Structural
Adjustment Programme (SAP) of the International Monetary fund (IMF).
2. In traditional Hindu discourse such as in the Bhagavad Gita, ``Dharma'' concretely refers to
prescribed rules of behaviour and moral ideals appropriate to each of the four major Hindu
castes. In the Mahabharata as a whole, however, the Buddhist notion of ``Dhamma'', as a
universal policy of righteousness, seems to leave strong traces in Yudhisthira's quest, his search
for an ultimate principle of social justice and moral rectitude, which transcends caste-specific ideal
behaviour.
3. The Nellie massacre of immigrant Muslims by frenzied Assamese mobs, in which hundreds
perished, took place in 1983, following a decision to impose an election on Assam against the
wishes of the leaders of the Anti-foreigner Movement that was rampant at that time.
4. By the term ``terrorist movement'' the author means a movement that uses indiscriminate terror
and violence inflicted on noncombatant civilian populations or their members as a means of
propaganda or political pressure. The author deems it necessary to distinguish such tactics from
guerilla warfare which has broad mass-support. Needless to say, this does not imply that vicious
state-terror does not exist.
REFERENCES
Benedict, R. (1934). Patterns of culture. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.
Hooper, R. (1962). Right reason in the English Renaissance. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
Horkheimer, M. (1947). The eclipse of reason. New York: Continuum International.
Lessing, F.D. & Wayman, A. (Translators) (1993). Introduction to the Buddhist Tantric Systems. Delhi,
India: Motilal Banarsidass.
82

CASTE AND CLASS VIOLENCE IN
CENTRAL BIHAR: RESTRUCTURING
SOCIAL ORDER TOWARDS
RECONCILIATION
Prakash Louis 1
Indian Social Institute
While one death is as tragic and as meaningless as another; over a thousand persons were killed
by the Naxalites in different incidents in Andhra Pradesh during the current decade, and almost as
many have been killed by the state in police encounters during the same period. It goes without
saying that the majority of those who lost their lives were poor from the Backward Castes,
Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes. As reports of violent deaths occur with nauseating
frequency, people seem to have become increasingly insensitive and the society is getting
progressively brutalised (Committee of Concerned Citizens, 1998, n.p.) 1 .
This perception of the Committee of Concerned Citizens of Andhra Pradesh poignantly exposes the
violence being unleashed on the common masses in certain parts of India. It underscores the urgent
need to restructure the social order, which will hopefully spur on a reconciliatory process.
In the last four decades, caste and class violence has been endemic in Indian society in general, and
in Central Bihar 2 in particular. The highly rigid, skewed, hierarchical and oppressive caste system
reinforces the idea of high and low, privileged and underprivileged social groups at the centre and the
periphery. Feudalism, with its extra-economic coercion and economic monopoly by a few, is
responsible for a divided Indian society. Social inequality and exclusion, which are endemic in the
caste system, are sustained by the denial of access to resources by the class system. This castecum-class-based
structure leads to discrimination, deprivation and dispossession. It is this social
reality that has contributed to the emergence of an armed struggle and a cycle of violence in rural
agrarian Central Bihar. The aim of the Naxalite Movement, the radical agrarian movement, which has
functioned unabated in central Bihar for the last four decades, is to seize state power through a
protracted armed struggle and to establish a classless society. Adopting a Marxist-Leninist-Maoist
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
1. Please direct all correspondence to Prakash Louis, Indian Social Institute, 10, Institutional Area, Lodi Road, New Delhi, 110003, India; E-mail:
prakash@unv.ernet.in or prakash@hotmail.com.
83

perspective, the Naxalites view the exploited proletarian class as the revolutionised vanguard to be
mobilised to bring about revolutionary change. Since the revolutionary Naxalite-oriented peasant
organisations have started working for the liberation of the under-classes, which are almost always
represented by the lower castes or the exploited castes, there has been increased awareness of the
structural oppression and a concomitant determination to secure equity and human rights for the
dispossessed in Central Bihar. However, the dominant castes which, in most cases, are also the
feudal landlords have resisted every move by the `subalterns' to introduce change in the oppressive
and unequal social order. Hence the dominant caste landlords have at regular intervals formed
senas, or private caste militia, to unleash terror and perpetrate massacres (Louis, 2002).
Instead of fulfilling its role as the arbitrator between the various segments of the population, the state
has become the tool in the hands of the powerful against the powerless. Adding to the complexity of
the situation, various splinter groups in the militant peasant groups are also constantly engaged in
internecine violence and feuding. The common masses in central Bihar are thus at the receiving end
in this cycle of violence.
The state, the landed gentry and the agents of the people's movement have all unleashed violence
on the common masses. While there is ongoing debate about who is initiating the violence or the
factors that are contributing to it, the common masses Ð the victims Ð continue to suffer. The violent
crisis in Central Bihar has led to many people being orphaned, widowed, physically maimed or
incapacitated. The cycle of violence has also led to loss of property and gainful employment and
stagnation in agricultural growth.
Despite the massive loss of life, property and well-being, the embattled parties continue to engage in
accusations and counter-accusations. The landed gentry accuse the oppressed and marginalised
communities of having become ugravadi or terrorists, or antisocial elements, expressed in terms
such as naxalvadi, nas katne wala, che inch chota karney wala, all referring to ``one who engages in
annihilation''. The militant peasant organisations on the other hand, blame the dominant landed lords
of being atyachari or julmi, that is, oppressors and exploiters. The landed gentry incite violence
through the formation of militias such as the Bhumi sena, Lorik Sena (established in the early 1980s)
and the Ranvir Sena (started in the late 1990s). The revolutionary peasant movements have
established their armed wings, which are known as lal senas. All these armed groups spawn terror
and violence, thus minimising any chance of peace.
The state, instead of addressing the root causes of the conflict, fulfils a partisan role, referring to the
cadres, leaders and sympathisers as ``trigger-happy youth'' or ``people bent on disrupting law and
order''. Furthermore, from time to time, the civil and police administration engage in aggressive
operations, blockades, indiscriminate arrests and fake encounters.
Internecine violent conflict in the ranks of the revolutionary peasant movements is also characterised
by accusations and counter-accusations. Different groups call one another ``traitors'' or ``revisionists'',
thus not only harming the progress of the people's movement, but also creating confusion in the
minds of the masses. At times, the feud between these revolutionary groups results in the killing of
civilians, adding to the trauma and suffering of the general population. Therefore, how to impose a
84

moratorium on violent attacks within the ranks of the revolutionary peasant movements is a crucial
and central question with which peace and human rights activists have to grapple.
RESTORING HUMAN RIGHTS IN CENTRAL BIHAR
Hence any process of assuring reconciliation and human rights in Central Bihar needs to address all
the inter-related features of the conflict. In the Central Bihar context, peacebuilding exercises
embracing a human rights perspective need to be comprehensively formulated to focus on the
victims' experiences and rights, the responsibilities and obligations of the perpetrators of violence, the
role of the state administration, and the concerns and rights of the unarmed common masses.
Despite the fact that each of these social actors has a different perception of peace and
reconciliation, it is imperative to provide a common platform and establish sufficient consensus to
ensure human rights in this region of Central Bihar.
Peacebuilding is contingent on addressing the following issues: (a) discrimination, segregation and
exclusion, which are the salient features of the caste system; (b) the lack of access to resources,
non-payment of minimum wages, and begari or forced labour, which characterise a feudal economic
order; (c) the sexual exploitation of women, which is the legacy of patriarchy; and (d) the political
exclusion of the marginalised, and the partisan and repressive role of the state and local
administration, which are the hallmarks of bourgeoisie democracy.
It is thus vital to forge a new vision for democracy and development in the brutalised and victimised
region of Central Bihar. Although there have been instances of developmental and welfare activities
undertaken by the Naxalite Movement, allegations that some Naxalite groups are appropriating funds
allotted for developmental activities need to be addressed.
Equal distribution of resources, another key ingredient of peacebuilding, is one of the major demands
of the Naxalite Movement. As in other parts of the country, the lower castes, the landless agricultural
labourers and producing class in Central Bihar do not own the means of production. The dominant
castes, which own the resources, deny access to common property resources, gair mazrua zamin or
government land, pasture land and river beds. The little land that some of the poor people own is
often surreptitiously appropriated by the landed gentry. Moreover, vast tracks of land remain
unutilised as a result of court cases or an ``economic blockade'' imposed by radical peasant
organisations. Hence, once these lands have been liberated and distributed to the landless masses
through the enforcement of constitutional provision-enabling land reform, a significant part of the
foundation for peace and reconciliation will be established.
It is fitting to conclude this brief article with a quotation from Justice M.N. Rao of the Andhra Pradesh
High Court. In his judgment on 1 July 1997 in discharging two prominent Naxalites charged under the
Terrorist and Disruptive Activities Prevention Act (TADA), he stated:
Despite its magnitude and menacing dimension, the problem, we think, does not admit of any
solutions. A Peace Commission with representative character inspiring confidence in all sections
of the society including the Naxalites and the police and backed by state power and consent, we
believe, can bring about immediate cessation of police encounters and violence by Naxalites and
85

then only in the resultant peaceful atmosphere, a meaningful search for permanent solution is
possible (Committee of Concerned Citizens 1998, p.7).
NOTES
1. The efforts of the Committee of Concerned Citizens (CCC) were directed at locating people's
aspirations and the right to live with dignity on the agenda of the Naxalite movements and the
government.
2. Until the bifurcation of Jharkhand in 2000 as a separate state, Bihar was divided into the North
Ganga plain, the South Bihar Plateau and the region between the two, known as the South
Ganga plain or Central Bihar.
REFERENCES
Committee of Concerned Citizens. (1998). In search of democratic space. Hyderabad: Author.
Louis, P. (2002). People power: The Naxalite Movement in Central Bihar. New Delhi: Wordsmith.
86

SATYAGRAHA IN
CREATIVE SOCIETY
Manoranjan Mohanty 1
Developing Countries Research Centre, University of Delhi
MOMENT OR SHATTERED DREAMS
The one hundred year history of Satyagraha (pursuit of truth force) for Swaraj (self-rule or self
determination or self-realisation), which began with Gandhi in South Africa and had guided the
dominant course of the Indian freedom struggle, and later had its echoes in Martin Luther King's
campaign against racism in the U.S. and the struggle against apartheid in South Africa, had unfolded
a dream for people's self-determination that stands shattered today as the U.S.-led aggression on
Iraq makes advances with imperialist fury. Yet, the Satyagraha persists as millions of people all over
the world demonstrate in protest against this war, which violates all the gains of the 20th century, and
especially the Iraqi people's right to Swaraj. After all, it was Tilak's 1 proclamation in the 1890s that
had electrified India's freedom straggle: ``Swaraj is my birth right and I shall have it'' (uncited source).
Hence, the struggle for Swaraj has entered a new phase. Satyagraha, too, has to be comprehended
in the context of the experiences of the last century.
THEORY OF SATYAGRAHA
Satyagraha is not merely a statement of means focusing on the pursuit of the path of Ahimsa or nonviolence.
There is a theory or a general philosophical principle underlying it. It focuses on satya, or
truth, and agraha, or commitment. In other words, commitment to, or firmly following truth force is at
the centre of this perspective. In this understanding, truth has become a truth force or a major force,
which is in fact the main resource or weapon in the course of struggle. Here, truth as a value has
also been taken as truth as a force. How does it happen? The abstract value of truth becomes a
force when we subject a phenomenon to reason.
Without entering into assessing definitions and propositions on Truth, we can take a working view
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
1. Please direct all correspondence to Manoranjan Mohanty, Developing Countries Research Centre, University of Delhi, Delhi, 110007, India.
87

that truth is comprehension of reality by application of reason. Every such comprehension takes into
account the civilisation's accumulated knowledge to tackle the three questions of What, Why and
How. It seeks to explain the nature of the particular thing in its historical and contemporary context,
why it is so, especially in comparison with others, and how it can be transformed to meet the
requirements of other values. It is this act of knowing that becomes an act of doing.
The basic theory of Satyagraha is that reason applied to the truth of a situation drives the process
towards freedom. If R is reason, T stands for Truth and F represents freedom, we can suggest the
following proposition: R x T= F.
Take for example slavery, which objectifies human beings as physical bodies to be bought and sold,
or commandeered for labour. At some point in the human history of a society, this reality was
comprehended as truth of denial of the value of a human being and human dignity, which had
evolved over centuries. As distinct from the slaves, there were free men and some women. The
system of slavery was sustained by a certain kind of economy, politics and culture. With new values
of freedom and rational re-organisation of production, there was a move to abolish slavery. The truth
of a situation was comprehended not just by abstract reason, but also by historical struggle that
constantly tested the reasoning challenging slavery. The outcome was freedom not only for the
slaves, but also for the social order as a whole, the latter gradually absorbing the general principle,
which became relevant to other spheres in the future.
PROPOSITION ON TRUTH, PEACE AND VIOLENCE
The Satyagraha perspective seeks to discover the truth of a conflict situation, thus underlining
questions about `the truth'. It is obvious that the oppressor and the oppressed have different notions
of truth. The slave-owning class had thought that they were the men of reason and had the right to
rule. The Brahmins of the Indian caste order considered themselves repositories of wisdom.
European colonialism claimed that it had a civilising mission in Asia, Africa and Latin America. The
white racist regime in yesterday's South Africa thought it to be unreasonable to offer universal
franchise to all the `races'. Forces of capitalist globalisation argue that this process would be in the
interest of all in the `Third World'. Finally, the Bush-Blair rhetoric hawks the slogan of `liberation' of the
Iraqi people. On the other hand, the struggling forces have different voices of reason and present
truth of the conflict situation in markedly different terms. Although notions of truth are not just twopronged,
but are multiple, the overall struggle involves contradictions between two broad sets of
forces, which are connected with other contradictions in many complex ways. Hence, articulation of
truth is always contested from a variety of vantage points. In the course of struggle the historical
process tilts in favour of one vantage point. It is by no means resolved forever, and the contestation
continues. The dialectical notion of truth is neither absolutist Ð always subject to testing in practice
Ð nor is it relativist Ð so relative to ideology, culture, communication or interest that is so uncertain
that it cannot be the basis of political action.
Therefore, we can only have propositions on the relationship between truth and peace. The
proposition is: If truth of a conflict situation is comprehended by the parties to the conflict, prospects
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of peaceful resolution of the conflict are greater. Conversely: If truth of a conflict situation is contested
by the parties to the conflict, prospects of violence persist.
The key variable in these propositions is political practice by the struggling forces. To what extent the
civilisation's values are strongly pursued and what effects it has on the dominant forces determines
the degree to which there is common ground in grasping the truth. This is where the success of
Satyagraha depends on the effectiveness of the force of the people's movement.
Satyagraha as truth force has been based on another perspective of Gandhi's values, namely
Ahimsa. But this is where the debate will continue. What if the gap in the understanding of truth
persists? History provides numerous examples of use of brute force, which has been contained only
when people's movements, with both armed struggle and non-violent struggle, have turned the tide.
However, one proposition of Satyagraha has to be seriously considered, namely: resorting to
violence creates its own unreason and untruth generating spirals of untruths as it ``violates
humanness''.
Therefore, even while comprehending the history of struggle for liberation, it has to be asserted that
violence cannot be a creed of freedom as it violates humanness while truth enhances humanness.
Structures, policies and practices of violence, by definition, embody unreason and therefore
humankind always attempts to seek the path of peaceful resolution of conflicts. In that sense,
Satyagraha and peace are interconnected.
An important implication of this understanding of Satyagraha is that it aims at making the adversary
see reason and grasp truth embedded in the conflict. Once this is accomplished, the structure of that
relationship of oppression is transformed and the parties are likely to shift towards a process of
reconciliation. The process of transformation is a complex one, involving discovery of truth,
establishing guilt, punishing the guilty, forgiving those who grasp the truth, and positively creating
bonds of love and solidarity in the new situation. Reconciliation is thus not about disregarding crime,
but treating crime as a deviation.
Reconciliation among contending parties is facilitated by a common grasping of truth through new
structures, policies and a culture of transformation. Humankind is struggling for liberation from
bondages based on colonialism, class, `race', ethnic, caste, gender and other forms of domination,
and for positive fulfillment of multiple urgings of the creative self. Against this backdrop, Satyagraha
for Swaraj is emerging as the most powerful current in the 21st century.
NOTES
1. Tilak, Bal Gangadhar (1856-1920) was the leader of the extreme wing of the Indian National
Congress and the foremost nationalist before Mohandas Gandi. Tilak, a journalist, initiated the
Ganapati festival and the Shivaji festival to inspire patriotism. He was imprisoned by the British for
sedition because of his critical writings. Tilak organised an extreme wing of the Congress Party
that demanded complete independence for India. His advocacy of independence was adopted by
the Congress only after his death.
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Short communications
INTERNATIONAL COLLABORATIVE
EFFORT ON INJURY STATISTICS
MEETING, 1-2 JUNE 2005,
CUERNAVACA, MEXICO
Richard Matzopoulos 1
MRC-UNISA Crime, Violence & Injury Lead Programme
Medical Research Council
The International Collaborative Effort (ICE) on Injury Statistics Meeting, which was held in
Cuernavaca, Mexico from 1 to 2 June 2005, was hosted by the US Department of Health and Human
Services Centres for Disease Control and Prevention National Centre for Health Statistics. The
meeting brought together delegates from 17 countries and several multilateral organisations. The
meeting focused on the primary goals of the ICE on Injury Statistics, which include the facilitation of
(1) exchange and collaboration among injury researchers who develop and promote international
standards in injury data collection and analysis; and (2) the comparability and improved quality of
injury data.
The availability of accurate surveillance data fulfils one of the first steps in the public health approach
to violence and injury prevention. However, as in many other low-income settings, injury surveillance
is still in its infancy in Africa Ð hence the current lack of accurate and reliable data on which policies
and interventions can be based. Collaborative meetings such as those presented by the ICE afford
individuals an opportunity to inform the establishment of surveillance systems, which in turn can
provide a more complete profile of continental injury patterns.
However, surveillance experts in low- and middle-income countries are often exposed to a level of
discourse which, although important for the injury prevention sector in general and pertinent to some
of the cutting-edge research being conducted in high-income countries, does not appear to have
much relevance in their own contexts. Hence, one of the most positive aspects of the Mexico ICE
meeting was its attention to inclusiveness, with delegates attending from each of the WHO regions.
Although there were several participants from high-income countries, such as the USA, Canada,
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
1. Please direct all correspondence to Richard Matzopoulos, MRC-UNISA Crime, Violence & Injury Lead Programme, P.O. Box 19070, Tygerberg, 7505,
South Africa; Tel: + 27 21 938-0536; Fax: +27 21 938-0381; E-mail: richard.matzopoulos@mrc.ac.za
90

Australia and the Netherlands, as well as international agencies such as the WHO and PAHO, lowand
middle-income countries were well represented. South and Central America were represented by
participants from Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, Mexico and Nicaragua; the Caribbean by
participants from Barbados, Dominica, Puerto Rico and St Lucia; Asia by two participants from
Thailand; and Africa by a South African participant. WHO AFRO presented a paper in absentia that
focused on various surveillance initiatives currently in progress on the continent.
The meeting started with introductory presentations for first-time participants by a group of delegates
who regularly contribute to the ICE meetings. Additionally, information updates were provided on
topics currently being investigated by several ICE working groups focused on:
1. International Classification of External Causes of Injury (ICECI)
2. US National Electronic Injury Surveillance System Ð All Injury Programme
3. Injury indicators
4. Occupational injuries
5. Hospitalisation data
6. Selecting a main injury
7. ICE web pages
8. Overview of ICE-related surveillance activities
During the remainder of the meeting, the participants presented papers on country-specific
surveillance research, methodologies for data collection and comparative data. The presentations
were thus wide-ranging in subject matter, and included a focus on injury information systems in
Mexico; mortality data collection and public hospitalisation data in Brazil; firearm injury in Brazil; the
role of PAHO and CDC in Ministry of Health hospitals; injury surveillance in Nicaragua; application of
surveillance systems in mortality data and domestic violence ICECI in Colombia; violence and injury
surveillance in the Caribbean; injury surveillance on violence in South America and Africa; injury
surveillance efforts in South Africa and other parts of the Africa region; injury surveillance in Thailand;
morbidity and mortality in Chile; injury mortality and injury surveillance in Argentina; and paediatric
trauma registry and information systems for epidemiology and surveillance.
Many of the presentations listed above are to be made available online. African Safety Promotion
readers interested in viewing these presentations, subscribing to the listserv or learning more about
the work of the ICE on Injury Statistics are referred to the ICE website: http://www.cdc.gov/nchs/
about/otheract/ice/meetings.htm
Importantly, an envisaged output from the meeting is a document to be jointly compiled by the
participants, which will compare the injury mortality rates in their countries for a selection of high
priority injury subsets.
91

INJURY PREVENTION AND SAFETY
PROMOTION EVENTS HELD UNDER
THE AUSPICES OF THE INJURY
PREVENTION INITIATIVE FOR AFRICA,
3-10 JULY 2005, PORT-SAID, EGYPT
Fatma Hassan 1
Faculty of Medicine, Suez Canal University
Wilson Odero
School of Public Health, Moi University
Ashley Van Niekerk
MRC-UNISA Crime, Violence & Injury Lead Programme
Medical Research Council
The Injury Prevention Initiative for Africa (IPIFA) and its partners coordinated three injury prevention
and safety promotion initiatives in July 2005 in Port-Said, Egypt. These included the 4th African
Regional Safe Communities Conference (3-5 July); the Authorship Development and Writing Skills
Workshop (6 July); and the Injury Epidemiology and Prevention Course (7-10 July).
THE 4TH AFRICAN REGIONAL SAFE COMMUNITIES CONFERENCE
Port-Said follows Harare, Johannesburg and Mauritius, as the most recent location for the biennial
African Regional Safe Communities Conference. These conferences have afforded African safety
promotion researchers, policy makers and practitioners the opportunity on a regular basis to:
. exchange their most recent scientific findings and practices in all fields of injury prevention and
safety promotion;
. present their own outcome- or process-oriented research;
. promote evidence-based practice;
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
1. Please direct all correspondence to Prof. Fatma Hassan, Community Medicine Department, Faculty of Medicine, Suez Canal University, Ismailia, Egypt;
E-mail: fatmahassan1@yahoo.com
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. increase synergy and foster partnerships between professionals across the continent and different
regions of the world; and
. promote the formulation of appropriate and effective African injury prevention projects.
The following institutions collaborated to organise the 4th African Regional Safe Communities
Conference: the Port-Said Governorate, Suez Canal University, the Red Crescent Society, the
University of South Africa Institute for Social and Health Sciences (ISHS), the Injury Control Centre-
Uganda (ICC-U) and IPIFA. The theme of the conference was Safe Communities: Communities for
Injury and Violence Prevention. The sessions focused on injury surveillance, violence prevention,
safe communities, safe schools, road traffic injuries, road safety and home visitation for the
prevention of childhood injuries. More than 35 papers were accepted for presentation by
representatives from various African countries, including Ethiopia, Egypt, Ghana, Kenya, Nigeria,
Ghana, Mauritius, South Africa, Tanzania, Uganda and Bangladesh. One hundred delegates
attended the three-day conference.
The conference was officially opened by the Port-Said Governor, His Excellency, Dr. Mostafa Kamel,
and Dr. Yehia Tomom who represented Prof. Mamdouh Gabr, the head of the Egyptian Red
Crescent, Prof. Farouk Abd Elkader, President of the Suez Canal University, Prof. Mohamed Shoair,
Dean of the Faculty of Medicine, Suez Canal University, Prof. Mohamed Seedat of UNISA, and IPIFA
President, Prof. Fatma Hassan.
During the opening ceremony, the delegates witnessed the signing of a Regional Safe Community
Statement of Understanding. According to this Statement, the Governorate of Port-Said in Egypt
agreed to implement an ongoing programme of injury control and community safety in Port-Said,
Egypt. This safe community initiative will cover the entire community in Port Said, including people in
all age groups, environments and situations. The Governorate and the Red Crescent Society agreed
to document and evaluate their efforts, and to actively disseminate their experiences both nationally
and across the African continent with a view to seeking international designation in the near future.
The Governorate and the Red Crescent Society also agreed to draw on the UNISA Affiliate Support
Centre as a resource.
AUTHORSHIP DEVELOPMENT AND WRITING SKILLS WORKSHOP
The one-day workshop on authorship development and writing skills was conducted by a team of
African injury researchers, including the following: Prof. Wilson Odero of Moi University, Dr. Olive
Kobusingye of WHO-AFRO, Prof. Mustafa Abolfotouh from Alexandria University, and journal editors
Dr. Babatunde Solagberu from the University of Ilorin and editor of the African Journal of Trauma, as
well as Mr. Garth Stevens of the UNISA ISHS and Mr. Ashley Van Niekerk from the MRC-UNISA
Crime, Violence and Injury Lead Programme, both of whom are on the editorial committee of African
Safety Promotion: A Journal of Injury and Violence Prevention (ASP). The workshop was offered in
recognition of the significance of publishing to the functioning of the safety promotion sector on the
continent. It is largely through publications that safety promotion professionals disseminate their
ideas, opinions and research findings to other researchers, practitioners, policy makers, and
ultimately even to the general public.
93

The aim of the workshop was to improve the capacity for writing research articles for publication in
scientific journals, with particular emphasis on improving the quality of papers presented at the 4th
African Regional Safe Communities Conference and ensuring subsequent submission to the ASP.
The workshop focused on the motivations for publishing, the generation of research ideas, the
process of literature search and reviews, the structure and formats of scientific papers, the writing
and rewriting process, the peer review process, journal selection and submission of manuscripts,
authorship ethics, and technical requirements for articles submitted specifically to the ASP. The
workshop concluded with some of the more experienced researchers agreeing to mentor the
participating authors in their submission of articles to the ASP. The workshop generated a great deal
of interest and was highly rated among the 33 participants.
AFRICAN INJURY EPIDEMIOLOGY AND PREVENTION COURSE
The African Injury Epidemiology and Prevention Course provided exposure to emerging and midlevel
researchers and programme managers to good injury surveillance practices. The focus on
injury surveillance systems is critical because it can help us to quantify, cost and monitor trends and
priorities for different injury sub-categories. Surveillance is the cornerstone of the public health
approach to injury prevention, and the resultant development and expansion of safety promotion
efforts. The first two days of the course were devoted to general injury epidemiology and violence
prevention, while the last two days focused specifically on road traffic injury prevention. The course
was attended by 29 participants, and was conducted by injury researchers and experts who are also
active members of IPIFA. These included Prof. Fatma Hassan, Prof. Wilson Odero, Dr. Ronald Lett,
Dr. Babatunde Solagberu, Prof. Enas El-Sheikh and Mr. Erastus Njeru, who collaborated with two
WHO members of staff, Dr. Olive Kobusingye and Dr. Meleckidzedeck Khayesi from Geneva. The
course topics focused on the regional injury burden and epidemiology, concepts and strategies for
injury prevention, surveillance systems, injury severity, trauma registries, pre-hospital and hospital
trauma care, injury research in Africa and data management. The Violence and Injury Prevention
Department of the WHO and WHO's Regional Office for Africa assisted in the funding and
presentation of this course.
CONCLUSION
The successful seven-day programme signified a further milestone for IFIPA, the UNISA Safe
Communities Affiliate Support Centre, and their safety promotion partners. In recent years IPIFA,
UNISA's ISHS, the ICC-U, WHO-AFRO and others have combined efforts with a small but growing
group of communities from across the region, and taken on the challenge of injury control on a
continent where the injury problem remains largely unrecognised, despite its massive toll on African
lives. Such training and exchange programmes serve to strengthen and expand a critical mass of
safety promotion researchers and practitioners who have invested in prioritising injury prevention
across Africa.
94

ABSTRACTS
The dissertation citations and abstracts contained here are published with permission of ProQuest
Information and Learning. Further reproduction is prohibited without permission.
Copies of dissertations may be obtained by addressing your request to UMI 1 Dissertation Services,
300 North Zeeb Road, Ann Arbor, MI 48106-1346, USA. Telephone 091 (734) 761-7400; Web-page:
wwwlib.umi.com/dissertations.
Factors in the Liberian national conflict: Views from Liberian expatriates. Samuel Kpehe
Ngaima, Sr., PhD, WALDEN UNIVERSITY, 2003. 217 pages. Adviser: Earl Joseph. Publication
Number: AAT 3085839.
This study analyzed the historical, social, ethnic, political, and international factors that contributed to
the Liberian national conflict, which resulted in rampant violence, genocide, destruction, and
displacement of more than half the population of the country and threatened the security of West
Africa. No previous work had identified the major causes of the Liberian civil war. The researcher
used a random sampling selection to locate 60 Liberian expatriates and conducted in-depth
interviews in Ghana and the United States. The findings revealed that nearly all of those interviewed
considered the prime factors in the civil conflict to be the perpetuation of Americo-Liberian
governance over the indigenous Africans for more than a century and the resulting disparities in
political, educational, and economic opportunities among Liberian citizens of different ethnic groups.
Religion, which has been a major cause of internal conflicts in the developing world, was the least
mentioned factor in the Liberian civil war. The findings suggest that an end to the violence and return
of the vast numbers of Liberians in exile will result only when Liberians unite across class and ethnic
divisions against individuals who victimize their own people to obtain power and wealth. The
international community must provide logistical and economic support for rebuilding the country and
creating the conditions for lasting peace and stability. A new society with policies of inclusion and
equal opportunity must be implemented to bring about reconciliation among all Liberians.
95

ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
Civilization and genocide (France, Guatemala, Tasmania, India, Turkey, Rwanda). Christopher
John Powell, PhD, Carleton University (Canada), 2005. 448 pages. Adviser: Bruce Curtis, Publication
Number: AAT NR00806
This dissertation argues that civilization produces genocides. It begins by considering the obstacles
to a sociological understanding of genocide. First among these is the metaphysics of rupture that
situates genocide radically outside the field of ordinary social relations, treating it as a breakdown,
rather than as a product, of social relations. A second obstacle is the essentially contested status of
the concept of ``genocide'', which must be understood historically, through genealogical and
figurational analysis. A third obstacle is the relative over-development of heroic sociologies of
genocide, which focus on the production of an intending collective subject, and the relative underdevelopment
of anti-heroic sociologies that attend to difference, to relations, and to strategies of unmaking.
I theorize genocide using Norbert Elias's figurational analysis of the European civilizing
process, which traces the intertwined growth of state institutions, particularly the state's territorial
monopoly of military force, and of forms of self-regulation and habitual conduct that have come to be
seen as civilized behaviour. Through a deconstructive reading of Elias's texts, I overcome the limits
set by Elias's residual essentialism and Eurocentrism, which naively equates civilization with
pacification, to produce instead an account of how the expansion of the civilizing process involves the
reproduction of social violence on an ever-expanding scale. Under some circumstances, this process
of ``barbarous civilization'' is realized through genocidal violence, or ``civilizing genocides''. Finally, I
apply this framework to the analysis of six historical examples of civilizing genocides: in Languedoc,
Guatemala, Tasmania, India, Turkey, and Rwanda. I show that these examples, some of which are
not usually considered genocides, can fruitfully and appropriately be treated as such, and how each
of these events, usually considered examples of the failure or the breakdown or the limits of
European civilization, are better understood as instances of its expansion.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
Buddhists in ethnopolitical conflict: Examining belief systems of non-violence and
compassion (Sri Lanka, India). Terri D. MacKinnon, MA, Royal Roads University (Canada),
2004. 88 pages. Adviser: Hrach Gregorian, Publication Number: AAT MQ93831.
The purpose of this research project is to identify how Buddhists view and manage conflict, in
particular during the reconciliation phase. Through two field case studies the research analyzes how
Tibetan refugees in India and Sinhalese Buddhists in Sri Lanka have managed ethnopolitical conflict,
particularly the reconciliation phase, by applying Buddhist beliefs and principles. Further research
objectives include defining which Buddhist principles they are utilizing in managing conflict and to
establish if commonalities exist between those of differing Buddhist traditions in applying Buddhist
principles to conflict; and whether these methods can be used by conflict specialists within secular
contexts to help others affected by violent conflict reach forgiveness and reconciliation. The research
also examines literature relevant to Buddhist teachings on conflict, and literature concerning
ethnopolitical conflicts involving Buddhists. Additionally, several Buddhist organizations working with
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conflict resolution are studied to determine how they incorporate Buddhist principles into their
activities.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
By violent means only? A comparative analysis of South African agrarian labour relations, c.
1900Ð2003. Luke Michael Radoux, MA, Dalhousie University (Canada), 2003. 161 pages. Adviser:
Gary Kynoch, Publication Number: AAT MQ83594.
In the last twenty years there has been much scholarly discussion regarding violence within South
African farm labour relations, yet little comparative analysis has been conducted to date. Studies
addressing violence between white masters and black labour tenants, sharecroppers and
wageworkers have remained isolated regionally and have neglected to address this phenomenon's
changing nature over a protracted timespan. To that end, this thesis examines three South African
agricultural regions comparatively during the period c. 1900-2003 and reveals that violence varies
over time and is employed by white farmers to various degrees, in a number of ways, and for a wide
array of reasons. As a feature of rural labour relations in South Africa during the twentieth century,
violence was shaped by specific economic, social, ideological, and political conditions present at
certain times and places. These included types of farming practiced, modes of labour utilized, levels
of white agrarian capital accumulation, and the rise of Afrikaner nationalism, among many others. Yet
violence within the black/white, master/servant, landlord/tenant nexus was neither sufficient to
maintain absolute dominance of the countryside nor the sole means of ensuring white hegemony.
The development and entrenchment of an ethos of paternalism in rural South Africa often placated
the more violent tendencies of white masters. But paternalistic relationships were also, at times,
violent themselves and paternalism as an ideology did not in itself preclude the use of violence. In
regions where paternalism existed, violence was mediated and less common; where a sense of
paternalism was absent, violence was more pervasive. Paternalism and violence were not mutually
exclusive. They interacted in an intricate manner and constituted the core of a highly complex and
diverse power relationship also grounded in notions of patriarchy, coercion and control.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
A place-in-between: Narratives of gender, violence and identity in a South African township.
Upjeet Chandan, PhD, University of Southern California, 2004. 386 pages. Adviser: Janet Hoskin,
Publication Number: AAT 3155389.
Located within the historical framework of apartheid South Africa and the contemporary conundrums
of its post-liberation transition, this study analyzes the peculiar predicaments of gendered race, place
and identity in post-apartheid South Africa from the perspectives of South African Indians, the
smallest of South Africa's historically racialized groups. Set primarily in Chatsworth, Durban the first
large-scale working class township built by the apartheid government in the 1960s specifically for
persons racially defined as ``Indian,'' this ethnography contextualizes the ruptures and reversals of
post-apartheid political-economic transformations within a historical framework of spatialized racial
domination and forced culture change. It traces the historically produced, everyday gendered
experiences and effects of legalized racial segregation, spatial control, and dislocation at the level of
community, family, and gender relationships and formations. Examining stories of violation and
97

violence within their particular apartheid and post-apartheid contexts of spatial, political and cultural
change, this study illustrates how racial and masculine domination were interwoven in the making of
Chatsworth as a modern township and how its legacies continue to shape the pervasiveness of
gender violence in the present day. This ethnography argues that while post-apartheid narratives of
decay and decline and feelings of racial ``stuck-in-betweenness'' that predominate among Durban
Indians speak fundamentally about the uncertain ``place'' of this racialized community within the new
post-apartheid body politic, these narratives must also be contextualized within a longer history of
political insecurity, displacement, and exclusion on South African soil. In addition, these narratives of
in-betweenness simultaneously reflect gendered cultural tensions between ``tradition'' and
``modernity'' and nostalgia for previous hierarchies of identity and certainty within a context of
rapid political change, globalization, and economic struggle. While post-apartheid democratic rule has
created new opportunities for self-making through the universalist discourse of citizenship,
contemporary economic conditions and political reconfigurations from White minority rule to Black
majority governance have also provoked new dilemmas of place.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
Healing violence in South Africa: A textual reading of Kentridge's `Drawings for Projection'
(William Kentridge). Vanessa Thompson, PhD, Duquesne University, 2005. 179 pages. Adviser:
Leswin Laubscher, Publication Number: AAT 3162814.
While the literature appears to understand trauma and violence as experienced singularly, and as
effecting intrapsychic changes or reactions, latterly there has been a recognition that this
understanding of the term ``trauma'' may not be adequate to describe violence suffered over a
prolonged period of time. Further, psychology tends to avert our attention from healing by attending to
symptomatology. In South Africa, during the apartheid years (1948-1994), violence was constituted
by an extraordinary threat to ongoing being and was informed by a totalitarian prejudice. Creative
texts, unlike traumatic texts, show how many artists have worked with South African traumas in an
effort to understand, and come to terms with them. This dissertation is a textual reading of Drawings
for Projection (1989-1999) by William Kentridge (1955-), an acclaimed South African artist. The
approach of this study is broadly hermeneutic, phenomenological, and semiological. The reading
suggests that the healing of violence is circular and continuous, and includes our remembering the
past, and our humanity as ethical beings on both personal and collective levels. Additionally, the
recognition of the Face, and the breath of the Other, contributes to the reconstitution of our ethics;
conversely the counter pull to erasure, reconstitutes violence.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
Inside rebellion: The political economy of rebel organization. Jeremy Matthew Weinstein, PhD,
Harvard University, 2003. 561 pages. Adviser: Robert H. Bates, Publication Number: AAT 3106714.
Civil war is now the most common form of violent conflict: all but seven of the 110 conflicts recorded
between 1989 and 2000 were civil wars. While significant attention has focused on the macro-level
factors that explain where these conflicts break out, how long they last, and why they come to an
end, comparatively little research has been done at the micro-level on a central question with
significant implications for policy: how do rebel groups organize violence? Why do rebel groups
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employ high levels of indiscriminate violence against civilians in some conflicts, while they
demonstrate restraint in others? What factors shape and constrain the behavior of rebel leaders and
their combatants? Why do some groups use methods of social mobilization while others rely on
means of social control? This study approaches these questions through an examination of the
internal organizational structure of rebel groups. It characterizes five organizational challenges that
groups face: how to recruit combatants, control their behavior, govern the civilian population, punish
defectors, and maintain the organization over time. Then, drawing on evidence gathered in Africa and
Latin America in interviews with combatants and civilians, it explores how organizations respond to
each of these challenges and identifies the factors that shape their divergence in strategy. The
central argument is that two distinct types of rebel groups emerge to wage civil war Ð opportunistic
and activist insurgencies Ð and their formation hinges on the type of opportunity that rebellion
provides to potential participants. Where rebellion provides short-term rewards and risks are
relatively low, opportunistic joiners flood rebel groups, causing severe principal agent problems that
give rise to strategies of authoritarian governance and high levels of violence. By contrast, where
rebellion is costly and the risk of death is significant, only the most committed activists are attracted
to rebellion, making social mobilization the central organizational strategy. In these contexts, the
costs of organization are overcome where groups emphasize identities or ideologies to elicit and
sustain individual participation.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
Performing the signs of injury: Critical perspectives on traumatic storytelling after apartheid
(South Africa). Christopher James Colvin, PhD, University of Virginia, 2004. 409 pages. Adviser:
Richard Handler, Publication Number: AAT 3137288
Since the end of apartheid, those who suffered human rights violations during apartheid became the
objects of a great deal of attention, both inside and outside South Africa. Victims have been
repeatedly approached for their stories and experiences, asked permission to record and circulate
these narratives, and, often, promised a range of benefits. These promises typically go unfulfilled and
victims have grown increasingly impatient with the next person who arrives on their doorstep,
speaking about the miracle of testimony and reconciliation. This dissertation traces the ambivalent
testimonial practice of ``traumatic storytelling'' in the work of Khulumani, a victim support and
advocacy group, and the Cape Town Trauma Centre, a psychological trauma clinic that offered
counseling services to Khulumani members. Traumatic storytelling was frequently a point of conflict
and debate between Khulumani and the many individuals and institutions Ð both local and foreign Ð
that sought out their traumatic narratives. These tensions were heightened as Khulumani pursued a
high-profile political battle for reparations from the government, and increasingly drew attention, both
welcome and unwelcome, from journalists, academics, and politicians. The chapters move roughly
chronologically through a broad, two-year ethnographic account of the work of Khulumani and the
Trauma Centre. Each chapter also highlights one or more of the various ``domains'' in which
traumatic storytelling operated. Chapters 1 and 2 examine traumatic storytelling as a product of a
number of political, religious and scientific discourses that came together in the South African Truth
and Reconciliation Commission (TRC). Chapter 3 examines debates around the psychological
dimensions of traumatic storytelling. Chapter 4 moves from the psychological to the social and moral
aspects of traumatic storytelling. Chapter 5 looks at the ``political economy of traumatic storytelling''
99

while Chapter 6 considers the relationship between traumatic storytelling and political action. Chapter
7 considers the kinds of subjectivity promoted by traumatic storytelling. The final chapter examines
the question of ``memory, power, and subjectivity'' in traumatic storytelling and discusses the
emerging politics of trauma and memory in post-apartheid South Africa.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
Setting the stage for a `new' South Africa: A cultural approach to the Truth and Reconciliation
Commission. Tanya Goodman, PhD, Yale University, 2004. 228 pages. Adviser: Jeffrey C.
Alexander; Kai Erikson, Publication Number: AAT 3152936.
This dissertation argues that the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) should
be viewed as a modern ritual of performance which enabled the nation's apartheid past to be
constructed as a ``cultural trauma'' and by so doing to create a new collective narrative of inclusion. In
contrast to traditional accounts of ritual that assume there are pre-existing bonds of solidarity in
society which are reinvigorated by recalling the sacred center of a community, my work seeks to
show how a performance like the TRC, while still relying on the processes of demarcating the sacred
from the profane, can also be a forward-looking enterprise in which the construction of a new sense
of connectedness can emerge. The TRC relied primarily on testimonies from victims and perpetrators
of apartheid violence who came forward to tell their stories in a public forum. Rather than simply
serving as data for setting the historical record straight, I demonstrate that these testimonies and the
effervescent foundational moment in which the TRC operated, the ceremonial attention it gained from
the media, and the affective engagement it initiated because of its emphasis on the horrific stories of
everyday people helped to perform and then designate the past as profane and to imagine, through a
process of performance as well, a future community clothed in sacred qualities. Seeking to
understand how this process was enacted, I examine not only the content of the testimonies which
were given but also how these stories were told and what values were attached to them. As a result,
I identify a series of performance cycles, including the forums of the TRC hearings, the modes
through which the testimonies were represented in the public sphere, and how audiences responded.
I also determine that third parties Ð ``empathic interlocutors'' and ``sympathetic rapporteurs'' Ð were
critical players not only as mediators for the claims made in the TRC hearings, but also in how the
work of the TRC was translated for a broader audience.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
The role of empathy in facilitating forgiveness: The lived experience of six political
perpetrators in South Africa. Ida Marleen Ramsey, PhD, Gonzaga University, 2003. 261 pages.
Adviser: Shann Ferch, Publication Number: AAT 3116073
This study investigated the lived experience of perpetrators who received empathy and forgiveness
from a person or persons they had deeply harmed. The study utilized a hermeneutic
phenomenological approach in interviewing six political perpetrators who were found guilty of
crimes against humanity during the apartheid era of South Africa, five of whom applied for and were
granted amnesty for these crimes. The nature of the public confessions, apologies, and bestowal of
forgiveness by victims during the Truth and Reconciliation process in South Africa created an
environment that necessitated the use of a hermeneutic phenomenological methodology. Interviews
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involving both structured and unstructured questions were used in obtaining the recorded text of the
experience of each person included in this study. A review of the literature provided the philosophical
and psychological background for understanding the role empathy and Ubuntu in facilitating the
giving and receiving of unconditional forgiveness. The findings from this study suggest that the
perpetrator may be deeply harmed by the violence or injury that they enact upon the other. The
findings also imply that the perpetrator's outward appearance of arrogance, defensiveness, and
insensitivity to the plight of the victim may be defense mechanisms to protect the ego from deep
shame and humiliation. Finally, the study suggests that empathy and Ubuntu facilitate the offering
and receiving of unconditional forgiveness, which then opens the doorway for the possibility of
reconciliation for the perpetrator. This reconciliation may be threefold; reconciliation with the victim,
reconciliation with the self as in the form of self-forgiveness, and reconciliation with a wider
community of people. This dissertation opens both theoretical and therapeutic discussion of the role
of empathy, Ubuntu, and forgiveness in bringing healing to both the victim and perpetrator. The
findings point towards the need to explore these human phenomena in terms of reconciliation and
redemption for perpetrators, regardless of how insignificant or significant the injury.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
Through the public/private lens: Reconciliation, responsibility and democratization in South
Africa. Rosemary Lynne Nagy, PhD, University of Toronto (Canada), 2003. 301 pages. Adviser:
Melissa Williams, Publication Number: AAT NQ78446.
Democratization in the wake of state violence necessarily involves the (re) construction of a strong
public/private distinction. Following Shklar's principle of ``putting cruelty first,'' the prevention of
injustice requires, at a minimum, some sort of boundary between the public and the private. An
expansive understanding of the public/private distinction is proposed: procedural mechanisms of
accountability are underpinned by ethical-political commitments to democratic principles and
practices. A robust public/private distinction is dependent upon the integrity of its ``constituent''
elements: ``selfhood privacy'' and solidarity. In state violence, institutional abuses are supported by
ethical failings on the part of ``private'' citizens and enabled by damage to personal capacities to
resist. The erosion of social solidarity and violations of an integral sense of self corrupt or destroy the
sense of injustice among victims and passive bystanders. Thus, transitional nations must attend to
the institutional or political requirements of democracy and to the ethical or personal requirements of
democracy. In both violence and transition, there is an interrelationship between the personal and the
political, or the individual and systemic. The challenge in making a clean break with the past is finding
an appropriate balance between political change and personal transformation that does not repeat or
mimic the injustices of the past. The dissertation views the process of democratization in South Africa
through the public/private lens. Analysis of the breakdown of the public/private distinction under
apartheid reveals that egregious violence was inscribed within apartheid's structural violence.
Responsibility for gross violations of human rights therefore cannot be dissociated from responsibility
for human rights violations under basic apartheid law. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission
(TRC) appeared well situated to establish accountability and to restore solidarity and selfhood
privacy. However, narratives of forgiveness, healing and heroism glossed over the responsibility of
apartheid beneficiaries and placed the burden of reconciliation upon victims. This detracted from the
paramount task of affirming the personal dignity of victims and cannot be considered a clean break
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with the past. In post-Commission South Africa, the efficacy of new institutions and the advancement
of democracy are partly dependent upon continued reconciliation and responsibility on the part of
``private'' citizens.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
Peasant unrest, community warriors and state power in India: The case of private caste senas
(armies) in Bihar. Ashwani Kumar, PhD, The University of Oklahoma, 2003. 322 pages. Adviser:
Robert H. Cox, Publication Number: AAT 3082961
Using the case study of private caste armies in Bihar, a state in eastern part of India, this dissertation
attempts to describe and explain the dynamics of caste, class and state power in post-independence
India. This study revolves around a fundamental question: what are the causes and outcomes of
emergence and proliferation of private caste armies in Bihar? Using a process oriented state-insociety
perspective, this dissertation attempts to analyze interactions between state power and social
forces in Bihar. The state and society are embedded in each other rather than being dichotomously
related. In contrast to usual portrayal of the state as a monolith and the central actor of social
transformation, the empirical evidence from Bihar presents an alternative interpretation. The
emergence of private caste senas (armies) has resulted from the ineffectiveness of state power and
the increasing peasant unrest in the state of Bihar since independence. Further, the emergence of
Ranvir Sena, a caste army of the landed Bhumihar caste, as the ruthless and dreaded community
warriors in Bihar also points to the continuing influence of caste in structuring state-society outcomes
in post-independence India. Evoking the spirit of selfless piety, Ranvir Sena claims to protect the
caste as a community of merit and worth against the so-called depredations of lower castes (Dalits).
In this sense, the frequent outbreak of caste wars between landowning castes and landless lower
castes is not brought about by ancient caste hatred but by the modernity of caste wars rooted in the
dynamics of political and agrarian struggles in post-independence India. In many places in Asia,
Africa, and Latin America, militias, guerrillas, terrorists, vigilante groups, mafias, paramilitary groups
have emerged and defined themselves in terms of ethnicity, language, region or religion. Seen as
``irregular armed forces'', they have often challenged state's monopoly of coercion. From a
comparative perspective, the case of private caste armies in Bihar suggests that the seemingly
endless cycle of violence in many societies is rooted in the limited and fragmented nature of the state
power to mediate power struggles; part political and part economic.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
Reporting ethnic violence: Context, text and practice of journalism in an Indian city. Aloke
Thakore, PhD, The University of Wisconsin Ð Madison, 2004. 338 pages. Adviser: Hemant G. Shah,
Publication Number: AAT 3155209
This dissertation examines the reporting of ethnic violence, which in Indian English is called
communal riots, in Ahmedabad, India. The research is premised on the model that journalism like
any cultural product is best understood in its relationship with the social world, the creator and the
receiver. The study of the creators, or journalism practice, is based on a theoretical framework of
influences on media content that includes the individual orientations, media routines, organizational
pressures, extra media factors, and ideologies. Addressing the lacuna in research on media and
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ethnic violence, the research is conducted as a case study with three parts. First, the context of the
reporting is presented using historical, geographical, economic, demographic, marketing and survey
data. Second, a close textual analysis, which draws upon different strands of discourse analysis, of
the reporting of the violence in five newspapers, three Gujarati (Gujarat Samachar, Sandesh, and
Gujarat Today) and two English (Times of India and Indian Express), is presented. Lastly, long
interviews are used to show how an interaction between the backgrounds of the journalists, beliefs
about journalism and its ethics, and professional routines come together to result in the texts of
violence that are analyzed earlier. The findings suggest that the reporting of the violence was
uneven. The same incidents were differently accented and the journalistic genres of news and views
were blurred. Such a style shows the privileging of authority, the importance of geographic location
and identity in covering incidents and different modes of blame or causality. Theoretically, the
research suggests, albeit tentatively, that the media be construed not as causing riots but as working
to harden identities among ethnic groups. Also, the study shows that reading coverage about ethnic
violence off the ideologies of journalists or of ownership structures is not useful. Rather it is the
interaction between individuals, organizations, routines and contexts that have to be closely
examined. Hence, normatively this research offers multilevel suggestions for an ethical coverage
which is rooted in the Gandhian idea of trusteeship instead of a purely consequentialist view of media
coverage.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
The everyday life of Hindu nationalism: An ethnographic account, 1990-1994 (India). Shubh
Mathur, PhD, Newschool University, 2004. 238 pages. Adviser: Rayna Rapp, Publication Number:
AAT 3118788
This dissertation looks at factors behind the rise of Hindu nationalism in India and at the changes that
take place in culture and civil society before the movement can gain political power. It is an
ethnographic study of a popular, right-wing movement and documents the progress of the Hindu right
through the lives of its actors and the experience of the victims of anti-minority violence. It focuses on
the state of Rajasthan, which does not have a history of Hindu nationalism; and is based on fieldwork
conducted in ``social welfare'' projects run by Hindu nationalist organizations in tribal districts in the
state and in urban slums in Jaipur, the state capital. It also tracks the anti-minority violence occurring
in different parts of the state between 1990 and 1992, based on interviews with survivors and relief
workers, the hearings of the Inquiry Commission investigating the events of the I 990 ``riots'' in Jaipur,
and on personal experience of relief work carried out in the wake of the anti-Muslim riots of 1992. It
attempts to understand the success of Hindu nationalism through its appeal beyond dominant groups
to disprivileged and marginalized social groups, such as tribals, the urban poor, women, dalits, trade
unions etc. It views the ideology of Hindutva (``Hinduness) as a form of symbolic capital, which is
accepted by subordinated groups as a means of advancing their claims to a higher status within a
system which disprivileges them in very comprehensive ways. It examines the patterns of violence in
Jaipur in 1990 and 1992, and argues that while the conditions of this violence are made possible by
the development of Indian capitalism within the globalized economy, the violence follows not a
political or economic but a cultural logic.
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ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
The relationship between protest and repression: An empirical analysis of domestic conflict
in Africa and Latin America. Sabine C. Carey, PhD, University of Essex (United Kingdom), 2003.
Publication Number: Not Available from UMI.
This dissertation analyses the dynamics that underlie domestic conflict and cooperation in the
developing world. It investigates how protest and repression influence each other. The theoretical and
empirical models that it develops incorporate both cooperative and conflictual behaviours of the state
and the opposition into the analysis of domestic conflict. The empirical part of the dissertation is
divided into two parts. The main analysis uses daily data from six Latin American and three African
countries between the late 1970s and early 1990s. It employs vector autoregression analysis to
account for the two-way interactions between the government and the opposition. The analysis is
performed separately for democracies and non-democracies in order to account for the differing
characteristics of interaction between the state and the population under different institutional
settings. The second part of the analysis employs ordered probit techniques to investigate a larger
dataset, which includes most Latin American and African countries over the same time period. Apart
from studying the relationship between protest and repression, it focuses on the impact of different
political regime characteristics on the interaction between the government and non-governmental
actors, as well as on the effect of protest and repression on the level of democracy. The results from
the two analyses suggest that both protest and repression are highly interdependent. Conflictual
behaviour of one actor leads to conflictual behaviour of the other actor. In general, both actors seem
to imitate each other's behaviour. The vector autoregression shows that the responses are most
intense during the first four to ten days after a violent or non-violent attack from the opponent. The
results from the wider analysis suggest that although democracies use less violence in their
responses to domestic protest, they are very likely to respond with sanctions and limited coercion to
popular dissent.
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
Violence in the midst of peace negotiations. Cases from Guatemala, Northern Ireland, South
Africa and Sri Lanka. Kristine Hoglund, PhD, Uppsala Universitet (Sweden), 2004. 232 pages.
Publication Number: Not Available from UMI.
Why do peace talks fall apart as a result of violence? The present study addresses the question of
why and how violence sometimes changes the dynamics of peace negotiation processes. Incidents
of violence may produce friction between and within parties. As a result, violence can make parties
reluctant to continue peace negotiations if it increases the risk and fears of reaching a peace
agreement with the enemy. Twelve high-profile incidents of violence, including political
assassinations, massacres, and bomb explosions, are analysed with the aim of probing the causal
patterns that emerge in the aftermath of violence. Cases are selected from four intra-state negotiation
processes: Guatemala, Northern Ireland, South Africa, and Sri Lanka. The patterns of actions and
responses, indicate that violence often symbolises a breach of faith between the parties. This is a
main reason why violence is sometimes followed by a crisis. In addition, low intra-party cohesion
regarding the peace negotiations, constrains the efforts of the decision makers to pursue peace. The
104

study underlines the relationship between the parties, within each party, and the interaction between
the two levels of analysis. The research further suggests that the destructive effect of violence can be
counteracted by mutual certainty about where the negotiation process is heading, by confidencebuilding
measures by the parties themselves, and through actions by third party mediators and
monitors. Peace negotiations are also driven forward by the fears the parties have about continued
armed conflict, a fear that commonly is exacerbated by the continued existence of violence.
105

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS
African Safety Promotion: A Journal of Injury and Violence Prevention (ASP) will be published twice a
year. Submissions within the following guidelines are welcome. Please submit your contributions or
any related queries to Professor Mohamed Seedat, Editor-in-Chief, African Safety Promotion: A
Journal of Injury and Violence Prevention, P.O. Box 1087, Lenasia, 1820, South Africa, or via E-mail
to seedama@unisa.ac.za
GUIDE TO AUTHORS
There are five categories of submissions accepted for publication in the ASP. These include original
contributions, short research reports, literature reviews, book reviews and short communications. The
journal is multisectoral, and welcomes contributions from individuals or organisations interested or
involved in the injury and violence prevention and containment sector in Africa. The sectors most
closely related to the focus of the journal include the behavioural and social sciences, health
sciences, engineering, educational sciences and the humanities.
MANUSCRIPT PREPARATION
The manuscript must be accompanied by a letter indicating that the article has not been published
elsewhere. This letter must be signed by all listed authors to indicate their agreement with the
submission. All manuscripts should be typed in double spacing with a margin of 3.5 cm on the left
and right sides of the page. The manuscripts should be in 12 point Courier font, with the main
headings in capitals and bold, and sub-headings in capitals. No enumerations and section numbering
should be included, and all graphs and tables should be inserted at the end of the document.
106

ORIGINAL CONTRIBUTIONS
Full scientific manuscripts accepted for this category should not exceed 25 pages, including the title
page, references, figures and tables.
SHORT RESEARCH REPORTS
Shorter scientific manuscripts, reporting on studies utilising limited samples, new methodologies, or
replication studies, submitted for this category should not exceed 12 pages, including tables and
figures.
LITERATURE REVIEWS
Manuscripts submitted as a literature review should not exceed 30 pages in total.
BOOK REVIEWS
Copies of books may be sent to the Editor-in-Chief at P.O. Box 1087, Lenasia, 1820, South Africa.
SHORT COMMUNICATIONS
These communications include commentaries on events in the injury prevention sector, and
organisation or programme reports. These should not exceed four pages, inclusive of references.
All original contributions and short research reports should have the following sections:
1. Title Page. This page should include the title of the manuscript, all authors and their affiliations.
Full contact details should be included for the corresponding author. The category in which the
manuscript is to be submitted should be indicated at the top of the page. The appropriate types of
articles for the ASP can be found in this issue of the journal.
2. Abstract. All manuscripts, except short communications and book reviews should include an
abstract placed before the main text of the article. This abstract should not exceed 250 words in
length. While all abstracts need to be submitted in English, authors are also allowed to submit
translations of these abstracts in French or Swahili.
3. Main Text. The main text of the article should, as far as is appropriate, be divided into the
following sections: Introduction, Methods, Results, Discussion, and Prevention Implications.
STYLE AND REFERENCES
All contributions should follow the American Psychological Association style. This format can be
found in:
107

American Psychological Association (2001). Publication Manual of the American Psychological
Association (5th ed.). New York: Author.
Please note the format for the Reference List. For example:
Bender, S., van Niekerk, A., Seedat, M., & Atkins, S. (2002). A review of best practice home visitation
in low-income contexts. African Safety Promotion: A Journal of Injury and Violence Prevention, 1(1),
35-67.
Kibel, M.A. & Wagstaff, L.A. (Eds) (1993). Child health for all. A manual for southern Africa. Cape
Town: Oxford University Press.
SUBMISSIONS
Three copies of the manuscript must be submitted to the Editor-in-Chief, African Safety Promotion: A
Journal of Injury and Violence Prevention, P.O. Box 1087, Lenasia, 1820, South Africa. Contributors
may submit the names and contact details of two referees competent to review their manuscript.
Authors will be asked to respond to the editors and reviewers comments within four weeks. Upon
acceptance of the revision for publication, an electronic copy in either Windows Word or WordPerfect
will be requested.
If you have any queries please contact The Editors: ASP at P.O. Box 1087, Lenasia, 1820, South
Africa; Tel. +27 +11 857-1142; Fax. +27 +11 857-1770; E-mail: seedama@unisa.ac.za
108

CONTENTS OF PREVIOUS ISSUES OF
AFRICAN SAFETY PROMOTION:
A JOURNAL OF INJURY AND
VIOLENCE PREVENTION
VOL. 1 NO 1 2003
EDITORIAL
A New Journal for the Promotion of Injury Prevention in Africa Ð A. Van Niekerk and N. Duncan
ORIGINAL CONTRIBUTIONS
Extending the Boundaries of Injury Prevention Theory, Research and Practice in Africa Ð M. Seedat
A Profile of Fatal Injuries in South Africa: Towards a Platform for Safety Promotion Ð R. Matzopoulos,
A. Van Niekerk, S. Burrows and H. Donson
A Qualitative Evaluation of Medico Legal Services in Gauteng, South Africa: Service Accessibility and
Quality of Care to Rape Survivors Ð S. Suffla, M. Seedat and A. Nascimento
SHORT RESEARCH ARTICLES
Patterns of Road Traffic Injuries and Associated Factors among School-aged Children in Dar es
Salaam, Tanzania Ð L.M. Museru, M.T. Lesbabari and N.A.A. Mbembati
Childhood Burn Injuries in Children in Dar es Salaam: Patterns and Perceptions of Prevention Ð
N.A.A. Mbembati, L.M. Museru and M.T. Leshabari
LITERATURE REVIEWS
A Review of Best Practice Home Visitation Interventions for Childhood Injury Reduction Ð S. Bender,
A. Van Niekerk, M. Seedat and S. Atkins
109

Towards a South African Injury Costing Model: A Review of the Literature for the Development of a
Process Path Ð B. Bowman
BOOK REVIEWS
The Anatomy of Power: European Constructions of the African Body Ð A. Butchart; reviewed by M.
Terre Blanche
Community Psychology Theory, Method and Practice. South African and Other Perspectives Ð M.
Seedat (Editor) and N. Duncan and S. Lazarus (Consulting Editors); reviewed by A. Naidoo
SHORT COMMUNICATIONS
Injury Prevention Initiative for Africa: Achievements and Challenges Ð R. Lett and O. Kobusingye
Considerations and Limitations to the Development of a Global Injury Costing Model: Conference
Report Ð S. Bender and B. Bowman
Injury Control and Traffic Safety Training Course Report Back Ð S. Atkins and A. Sukhai
Montreal Declaration: People's Right to Safety Ð 6th World Conference on Injury Prevention and
Control
VOL. 1 NO 2 2003
EDITORIAL
Building and Consolidating the Injury Prevention Sector in Africa Ð G. Stevens
ORIGINAL CONTRIBUTIONS
Social Disorganisation, Social Capital and Violence Prevention in South Africa Ð T. Emmett
The Magnitude of Firearm Homicide in Cape Town, 2001 Ð M. Prinsloo, R. Matzopoulos and A.
Sukhai
Occupational Injuries Among Physiotherapists: A Case Study in Zimbabwe Ð U. Useh, E.U. Igumbor
and D.M. Madzivire
SHORT RESEARCH REPORTS
WHO-Supported Injury Surveillance Activities in Africa: Mozambique and Ethiopia Ð K. Bartolomeos
and M. Peden
Violence and Alcohol: A Study of Injury Presentations to Emergency Departments in Eldoret, Kenya
Ð W. Odero and D. Ayuku
110

Ingestion and Aspiration of Foreign Bodies in South African Children Ð A.B. Van As, X. Chen, A.J.
Millar and H. Rode
BOOK REVIEWS
Peace, Conflict and Violence: Peace Psychology for the 21st Century, D.J. Christie, R.V. Wagner and
D. DuNann Winter (Editors). Reviewed by S. Suffla
Security and Politics in South Africa: The regional dimension, P Vale. Reviewed by T. Swart
SHORT COMMUNICATIONS
Injury Prevention Initiative for Africa: 2003 Update Ð R. Lett and W. Odero
World Health Day 2004 to Highlight Road Safety Ð Department of Injuries and Violence Prevention,
World Health Organisation, Geneva
An Interrogation of Urban Safe Community Model Integration: A Conference Report from Calgary,
Canada, 2-4 April 2003 Ð B. Bowman
Indo-South Africa Dialogue on Truth, Reconciliation and Human Rights: A Conference Report from
Delhi, India, 4-7 April 2003 Ð M. Seedat
VOL. 2 NO 1 2004
ORIGINAL CONTRIBUTIONS
Community Volunteerism in Safety Promotion and Implications for Sustained Participation
L. Swart, M. Seedat and F. Sader
The Epidemiology of Childhood Burn Injuries in South Africa: A Review of the Evidence
A. Van Niekerk
ROUNDTABLE DISCUSSION
WHO Communique on Violence and Health
Department of Injuries and Violence Prevention, World Health Organisation
Engaging Utopia through Evidence
M. Seedat
Violence involving Children and Youth
C. Higson-Smith
Intimate Partners and Sexual Violence: Implications for the Prevention of Violence against Women in
South Africa
S. Suffla
111

Collective Violence
M. SchoÈnteich
A Response to the South African Responses
S. Van Tuyll van Serooskerken and E. Krug
SHORT RESEARCH REPORTS
Critical Lessons from a Schools-based Injury Surveillance Initiative
T. Swart and G. Stevens
Children as Unintended Victims: The Shielding Phenomenon
S. Van As, G. Fieggen, M. Wiemann and J. Peter
The Importance of Oral and Facial Injuries in Child Abuse
S. Naidoo
Igun iflop: Gun Free South Africa Work with Youth in Schools
M. Keegan
SHORT COMMUNICATIONS
Trauma Team Training Course: Evaluation of Ugandan Implementation
R. Lett, O. Kobusingye, N. Asingwire and F. Ssengooba
Design and Implementation of a Child Injury Prevention Resource Pack for Primary Schools
N. Du Toit and B. Prince
First Indian Ocean and the Third African Safe Communities Conference, 8-10 October 2003,
Mauritius
R. Ahmed and W.M. Senyonjo
Call for Expression of Interest Ð 2006 8th World Conference Injury Prevention and Safety Promotion
EDITORIAL
Making Africa Safer for Children
R. Matzopoulos and O. Kobusingye
VOL 2, NO 2 2004
ORIGINAL CONTRIBUTIONS
Gunshot Wounds in Children: Epidemiology and Outcome
J. Hutt, A.B. Van As, L.A. Wallis, A. Numanoglu, A.J.W. Millar and H. Rode
112

Home Visitation: A South African Process Evaluation
W. Odendaal, S. Atkins, A. Van Niekerk and M. Seedat
SHORT RESEARCH REPORTS
Domestic Energy Use, Time Activity Patterns and Risk of Burns Amongst Children Less Than Five
Years of Age in Rural South Africa
B. Barnes and K. Moiloa
Partnership and Dialogue for Implementation of New Road Safety Rules in Kenya
M. Khayesi
LITERATURE REVIEW
Review of Childhood Burn Injuries in Sub-Saharan Africa: A Forgotten Public Health Challenge
A.A. Hyder, K.S. Kashyap, S. Fishman and S.A. Wali
BOOK REVIEWS
World Report on Road Traffic Injury Prevention: Its Implications for Low-Income Countries
Y. Holder
A South African Perspective on the World Report on Road Traffic Injury Prevention from a
Multidisciplinary Team Context
E. de Beer, K. Groenewald, S. Nkosi, E. van Niekerk and L. Vermaak
SHORT COMMUNICATIONS
The 7th World Conference on Injury Prevention and Safety Promotion: A report from Vienna
B. Bowman
The 13th International Conference on Safe Communities: Prague, Czech Republic
M. Prinsloo and S. Bulbulia
Vulnerability, Resilience and Coping of Communities and Health Systems in Responding to Infectious
Diseases in the Context of War/Conflict: Kandy, Sri Lanka
S. Bulbulia and F. Alvarez-Castillo
University of South Africa's Department of Communication Science's Annual Postgraduate Winter
School: Pretoria, South Africa
L. Baadjies, S. De Freitas and S. MacKenzie
17th International Conference on Alcohol, Drugs And Traffic Safety: Glasgow, United Kingdom
A. Sukhai
Security 2004: ISSUP Conference: Pretoria, South Africa
S. MacKenzie
Injury Control and Traffic Safety Training Course: Johannesburg South Africa
L. Baadjies, S. De Freitas and S. MacKenzie
113

African Safety Promotion
A Journal of Injury and Violence Prevention
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114