Nepal suggests less than we might think

Violence has been in the news in the US after two attempted assassinations against former President Donald Trump, the anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, another murderous school shooting, this time in Georgia, and a mass shooting in Alabama on September 21.

Such acts of extreme violence are of course deeply disturbing. But they also raise a key question for human rights: is it required for the healing of survivors, and society as a whole, that the perpetrators are brought to justice?

The answer will seem self-evident to many Americans who will soon witness a depressingly familiar sight. Bereaved and uncomprehending family members will confront the killer of their relatives in court. Some may demand the most extreme penalty while others may favor leniency, but either way Americans will respect their decision. The process of recovery – for the affected families and the nation – will begin in the court room and the journey will be taken together.

After years of studying human rights I have always assumed that the same applies to nations emerging from civil conflict. It has become a truism that there can be no long-term peace without justice, and that survivors of violence – particularly family members – will be at the forefront in demanding punishment for those who tortured or killed their relatives.

Nepal is giving me second thoughts.

Best known for their spectacular mountains and friendly demeanor, Nepalis are still recovering from a brutal Maoist rebellion that killed thousands and resulted in the forcible disappearance of almost 1,400 fellow citizens.

The conflict ended in 2006 with a model peace agreement that restored democracy and integrated rebels into the armed forces. Justice, however, proved elusive and for the past eighteen years the country has been struggling to punish crimes committed during the conflict without provoking the military and reopening wounds.

On August 14 Nepal appeared to turn the corner. After months of haggling between the three main political parties, the Nepali parliament voted unanimously in favor of a new law to compensate victims, investigate disappearances and establish the facts of the conflict. In a nod to the celebrated South African Truth Commission, victims will also be able to confront their aggressors in person and appeal to the courts if they remain unsatisfied.

The new law has been welcomed by Nepal’s allies, including the US, but the debate over justice seems far from over. The law will prosecute four categories of “serious human rights violations” – rape, torture, summary executions and disappearances – committed by both sides during the conflict. However, punishment will be capped at 25% of the maximum penalty allowed under Nepali law (except for rape, which will be fully prosecuted). Lesser crimes will be dealt with by the courts and could well result in acquittal.

As we noted in a recent news bulletin, this compromise has been denounced by human rights advocates in Nepal and abroad. A group of Nepali lawyers representing the Accountability Watch Committee have argued that the 75% reduction in sentences amounts to an amnesty. A statement by Human Rights Watch agreed the new law could shield perpetrators and make it harder for victims and family members to find closure.

Such a reaction from human rights advocates is hardly surprising. What is surprising – deeply so – is that those who have been hurt by the violence are among the most enthusiastic supporters of the new law. A nation-wide network of victims and survivors lobbied hard on its behalf and met with politicians before the vote to urge passage.

This disagreement between advocates and survivors goes back several years and has caused resentment on both sides. Ram Bhandari, whose own father disappeared in 2001 and who coordinates the network of survivors, described the advocates as “spoilers” for rejecting the new package. He also spoke with disdain about international human rights organizations that presume to act for victims but seem to “care more about protecting laws than people.”

Bhandari is known as a tenacious advocate himself and has publicly named three officials who he views as responsible for his father’s disappearance. But here he is squabbling with the Nepal human rights community over accountability. How come?

When I put the question to Bhandari during a Zoom meeting, he reminded me how the Maoist rebellion, and the government’s response, had torn communities and families apart across the country far from the capital.

I have heard this from members of Bhandari’s network, who told me how Maoist cadres would arrive in a village and randomly demand food from a family. Neighbors would denounce the family to the Army and soldiers would be sent in. Instead of being treated with sympathy and understanding by fellow villagers, family members who survived were often viewed as collaborators and driven from their homes.

Is it possible that such social rejection could be as traumatizing as the act violence itself? Most definitely, says Dr. Yael Danieli, a noted psychotraumatologist and proponent of victims’ rights who founded the International Center for Multigenerational Legacies of Trauma and has pioneered understanding of how trauma is passed down through generations. The same can apply in natural disasters, she said. If victims and survivors are not treated with dignity and respect, the pain will deepen.

The flip side of this is that for healing to occur, the community must acknowledge the damage and apologize. In some Nepali villages it can be enough that a street is named after a lost relative. “Welcome back” can be the most comforting words.

Truth is another vital component of recovery and healing. After years of being ignored and despised, it is deeply empowering for survivors to have their version of history accepted – hence the importance of truth commissions. Commemoration is also essential. In Nepal, family members have used street theater, murals and even embroidery to remember their dead.

Finally, there is money. The Maoist rebellion took root in central Nepal among the Tharu, one of the most marginalized minorities in Nepal. Most Tharu conflict survivors depend on agriculture, and losing a breadwinner to the conflict drove them deep into poverty from which many have still not recovered. For them, reparations are essential to recovery.

All of this helps to put legal accountability into perspective. Ram Bhandari said that it would be gratifying to see the three former officials who were apparently behind his father’s death – now old and long retired – brought to justice. But it would also be hard to find evidence after so many years, and the search for accountability cannot be allowed to hold the rest of the package hostage: “We want to know the truth before we die.”

It is hard to overstate the importance of this disagreement for human rights and peacebuilding. On a positive note, victims and survivors have played a key role in Nepal that will hopefully set a precedent for peace processes elsewhere. But their rift with human rights advocates also raises difficult questions. Which of these two stakeholders should take precedence when it comes to building peace? Whose voice should carry more weight in the event of a disagreement?

Members of the Accountability Watch Committee in Nepal point out that legal accountability is a legitimate concern for society as a whole and not just for survivors. They are right, of course. They also plan to keep up the pressure, and I admire their resolve. But at the same time they are also professionals and need to listen to survivors, instead of presuming to act on their behalf.

Strange though it may be, the human rights community in Nepal may need to reconcile its own differences before the country can close the book on a brutal war.