‘Democracy cannot succeed unless those who express their choice are prepared to choose wisely. The real safeguard of democracy, therefore, is education’. Franklin D Roosevelt (1882-1945) Introduction The importance of education to democracy cannot be overstated. Central to that education is the interchange of ideas and policies across the political spectrum. Many of the organisations and individuals well placed to deliver that education are bodies known as non-party campaigners (NPCs). These are individuals and interest groups who campaign for and against parties, candidates, issues, and policies, without themselves seeking election. Many pressure groups, charities, and trade unions are NPCs (for example, HOPE not hate Ltd and Greenpeace Limited). Yet the rules governing donations and campaign spending for NPCs are complex and unclear. This may lead to a scenario in which the very people seeking to educate electors are often unable to fully grasp the laws regulating them. This is notwithstanding the fact that the punishments for contravening campaign finance laws are severe. The importance of transparency and accountability in election finance has been brought to the fore on a number of occasions. Perhaps the most recent internationally is Donald Trump’s ‘hush money’ trial. However, the complexity of the laws in UK may risk making politics inaccessible, in the name of transparency. Have we gone too far? Has the law become so complex that current and future educators are likely to dismiss politics as more hassle than it's worth? A broad overview of the regime NPCs are defined by the Electoral Commission (EC) as ‘individuals or organisations that campaign for or against a candidate at an election or referendum without standing as a candidate themselves’.[1] The Political Parties, Elections and Referendums Act 2000 (PPERA) refers to such organisations or individuals as ‘third parties’. There are two types of NPC—a local campaigner and a general campaigner. The laws regulating the spending of NPCs, in the lead up to an election or referendum, are far from straightforward. The law is spread across three statutes: primarily PPERA and the Transparency in Lobbying, Non-Party Campaigning and Trade Union Administration Act 2014 (TUAA). If an NPC is campaigning in support of a specific candidate, it must also comply with its obligations under the Representation of the People Act 1983 (RPA). TUAA was passed by Cameron’s Conservative government, following a series of high-profile corporate lobbying scandals. It amended PPERA and introduced the requirement for NPCs to register if they intended to spend more than a certain amount on regulated campaign activities. TUAA was opposed by 160 charities, including the Royal British Legion, Save the Children, and the Salvation Army. In this article, I outline some of the issues an NPC must consider in the lead up to a general election to give readers an insight into the complexity of the regime, and why so many organisations condemned the further complexity added by TUAA. 1. The regulated period Central to the law governing the spending of NPCs is the ‘regulated period’. Expenditure is only controlled by the law if it is incurred during the regulated period. The regulated period is 365 days before a general election. This means that all expenditure on ‘regulated campaign activities’, in the 365 days before a general election, must be accounted for. There are limits on how much an NPC can spend during the regulated period. In the case of a snap general election (as in 2017 and 2019, for instance), the regulated period is applied retrospectively. Money spent by parties and NPCs in the preceding 365 days was liable to be accounted for retrospectively. Thus, even when an election is neither anticipated nor foreseeable, an NPC may be required to account for its spending. This can cause issues for NPCs who have spent significant amounts on activities that may meet the definition of a ‘regulated campaigning activity’. Even where an election takes place on a predicable schedule, the regulated period will limit the amount an NPC can spend in the lead up to election day.[2] 2. ‘Regulated campaign activity’ To determine whether an activity is controlled by the law, an NPC must decide whether an activity is a ‘regulated campaign activity’. An NPC must consider the list of activities (outlined at schedule 8A of PPERA) and determine whether the activity meets the ‘purpose’ and ‘public’ tests. The purpose test will be satisfied if an activity can reasonably be regarded as intended to promote or procure the electoral success of (a) one or more political parties; (b) particular parties or candidates that do, or do not support a particular policy; or (c) a category of candidates, by influencing voters to vote in a certain way at the election. Only activities ‘made available to the public’ are regulated. For example, canvassing and market research, or the production of material (all Schedule 8A activities) will be regulated only if made available to the public. The ‘public’ has been given its ‘ordinary’ meaning by the EC. Only if an activity is (a) listed in Schedule 8A and (b) meets both tests will it be a regulated campaign activity. The tests are not easy to apply. Taking the example of the public test, the changes to the ways people communicate have blurred the boundaries between what is private and public. To determine whether the test is met, one must undertake an assessment of the tone, timing, context of the campaign, and whether it is a ‘call to action’ to voters. 3. Spending limits Under PPERA there are four categories of spending limits that NPCs must be aware of: Registration thresholds. An NPC spending more than £20,000 in England or £10,000 in each of Scotland, Wales and NI must register with the EC. If an NPC fails to register before spending more than £20,000 (or £10,000 in the other parts of the UK), it will commit an offence. The national spending limits. There is one for each part of the UK: England—£586,548; Scotland—£81,571; Wales—£54,566; and Northern Ireland—£39,443. Focused constituency campaigning. Regulated campaign activity which primarily impacts a particular constituency, or constituencies, is known as ‘focused constituency campaigning’. There are limits on how much an NPC can spend in one constituency (£17,553). This can cause issues in light of the attribution rules (see below). Targeted spending. Spending on regulated campaign activity intended to influence voters to vote for a specific party or its candidates is known as ‘targeted spending’. There are limits on a NPCs targeted spending where the relevant political party (whom the NPC is supporting) has not authorised the expenditure. The limits are as follows: England—£58,654; Scotland—£6,157; Wales—£3,456; and Northern Ireland—£1,944. There is an additional spending limit for campaigns in support of a candidate in a constituency, under the RPA. 4. Attribution rules The purpose of the attribution rules is to allocate the spending of an NPC on regulated campaign activity to each part of the UK and each constituency in which it has an effect. The spending attributed to each part of the UK will count towards the spending limit for that part (ie within the national limits). The spending attributed to each constituency will also count towards the spending limit for that constituency (ie it will form part of the focused constituency spending). Therefore, all spending will count towards the limits for at least one part of the UK and at least one constituency. If an NPC is campaigning across the whole of England, Scotland, Wales, or NI, it must attribute spending equally to each constituency in that part. However, if it spends the entire limit for a particular constituency (£17,553), for example, in a swing seat, it will breach the constituency spending limit if it then incurs any other expenditure that it is required to attribute partly to that constituency under the honest and reasonable assessment principle. The honest and reasonable assessment principle is the ‘guiding principle’ that should be applied in all situations in which an NPC has to apportion spending. It simply requires NPCs to make an ‘honest and reasonable assessment, based on the facts, of the proportion of spending that should be fairly attributed’ to regulated campaign activities (as opposed to non-regulated activities). Once this assessment has been made, the NPC will need to use the same guiding principle to apportion its spending to the correct part of the UK, or constituency, for the purposes of complying with the spending limits. What constitutes an honest and reasonable assessment is not clear, partly because it is subjective and dependent on having fully grasped the law outlined above. 5. Reporting obligations If an NPC is required to register with the EC and intends to spend more than £20,000 (the reporting threshold) during the regulated period, it must comply with onerous reporting obligations. It must: Report spending on regulated campaign activities in its spending return after the election; and Report donations at three different times. A donation received by an NPC for the purposes of funding its regulated campaign activity will need to be reported if it is over a certain threshold. All NPCs are obliged to submit these reports unless they have declared that they will spend below the reporting threshold. The reporting obligations are as follows: during the pre-dissolution period, an NPC is required to make quarterly pre-poll reports; between the dissolution of Parliament and polling day, it will be required to make weekly pre-poll reports; and after the election, it must report its donations in its spending return. The content of each report will differ (ie pre-dissolution reports require a report of the total value of all donations with a value between £500—£7,500, whereas post-dissolution reports do not). To further confuse matters, many NPCs may also be ‘members associations’, and subject to an additional regime in which they are required to report donations received to fund its ‘political activities’. The reporting threshold for an NPC during a regulated period is different to the reporting threshold for a members association outside of the regulated period. The chilling effect Grey areas As is evident from the very brief outline above, the law regulating this area is not black and white. The honest assessment principle in relation to the attribution rules is difficult to apply, as are the purpose and public tests. Since the law is unclear, a prudent NPC will feel it necessary to consult experienced and expensive lawyers specialising in this area. Therein lies the problem. When faced with the expense that comes with compliance, coupled with the penalties and reputational impact of making a mistake, smaller NPCs may be forced to abandon politics altogether. Compliance burden Even when an NPC gets it right (it has registered, made the correct judgments as to which activities meet the relevant tests, and attributed its spending appropriately) it is obliged to make a series of reports to the EC as to its spending and donations. The closer an NPC gets to an election, the more frequent and burdensome the obligations become. It will have to incur further expense to accurately report its expenditure. Consequences of contravention In any arena, breaches of the law are newsworthy. If an NPC breaches the law, even inadvertently, it may suffer reputational damage. Organisations engaged in politics stand to suffer more than most, as their opponents will seek to capitalise on any missteps to tarnish their reputation and gain political advantage. Some breaches of the relevant law will amount to a criminal offence. The penalties range from an unlimited fine to one year imprisonment. For example, in some circumstances, an NPC is required to submit, with its spending return, a statement of accounts. A failure (by the nominated responsible person) to comply with the requirement for a statement of accounts is a criminal offence attracting, on summary conviction, a fine up to the statutory maximum, or six months imprisonment, or on indictment, a fine or one year imprisonment. Other breaches may give rise to both criminal and civil sanctions. Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth were fined for breaking the rules in the lead up to the 2015 general election. Greenpeace was fined £30,000 for failing to register with the EC, and Friends of the Earth was fined £1,000 for late registration. Interestingly, Greenpeace deliberately failed to register, as an ‘act of civil disobedience’ and to highlight that the law, as it stands, is unworkable.[3] John Sauven, Greenpeace UK’s then Executive Director, stated: Now Britain is going into a second general election regulated by a law that does little to stop powerful companies exerting secret influence in the corridors of power while gagging charities and campaign groups with millions of members. If the last election is anything to go by it will have a chilling effect on groups trying to raise important issues.[4] It is for this reason that the House of Commons Public Administration and Constitutional Affairs Committee stated: ‘The uncertainty about some aspects of Electoral Law leaves even the most professional agents in fear of falling foul of the law through no fault of their own’.[5] Smaller NPCs In July 2021, the Committee on Standards in Public Life undertook a review into the law regulating election finance. It acknowledged that there is nothing wrong with individuals and organisations sending out explicitly political messages in advance of and during election campaigns […] On the contrary, a free society demands that they should be able to do so, indeed that they should be encouraged to do so.[6] In the context of a proposal to lower the registration threshold, Friends of the Earth reported: There are many, smaller NPCs where the burden of compliance requirements means they either must stop substantial amounts of work to redirect resources, or simply avoid undertaking regulated activity to avoid the possibility of registering…[7] In the view of the Committee, campaigning by NPCs should: ‘be transparent, so that the audience knows who is funding the adverts they see and can assess the credibility of the message; respect the right to participate on equal terms with others; not be dependent on a campaigner’s level of wealth and access to money (that is, it should be open to all) be regulated in a way that is proportionate and administratively practical (campaigners should be accountable)’.[8] The challenge is to make sure all the above can coexist. At present, they do not. Transparency is important, but at what cost? How do we improve the law to ensure that transparency does not have the chilling effect of ousting out, or preventing the entry of, crucial participants in democracy? The Committee recommended that ‘the updating and simplification of electoral law must be seen as a pressing priority for the Government’.[9] With an election on the horizon, it seems this advice has not yet been heeded, leading to ongoing complexity for NPCs. Grace Houghton, Mishcon de Reya Grace Houghton is a trainee solicitor at Mishcon de Reya LLP, due to qualify in September 2024. During her training contract, she gained experience of acting for both individuals and companies in a wide range of areas including commercial litigation (particularly high-profile disputes involving allegations of dishonesty); public law; employment; and education law. In the area of public law, she has advised a number of clients as to the rules governing political donations and campaign finance. She has an interest in the overlap between politics and the law, having studied Politics, Philosophy and Law at King's College London Mishcon de Reya is an independent law firm, which now employs over 1400 people with more than 650 lawyers offering a wide range of legal services to companies and individuals. The firm has grown rapidly in recent years, showing more than 40% revenue growth in the past five years alone. With presence in London, Oxford, Cambridge, Singapore, and Hong Kong (through its association with Karas So LLP), the firm services an international community of clients and provides advice in situations where the constraints of geography often do not apply. The work the firm undertakes is cross-border, multi-jurisdictional and complex, spanning six core practice areas: Corporate; Dispute Resolution; Employment; Innovation; Private; and Real Estate. [1] Electoral Commission ‘UK Parliamentary general election 2019: Non-party campaigners’ (2019) accessed 10 April 2024. [2] George Greenwood, ‘Snap election raises concerns for non-party campaigners’ (BBC News, 25 April 2017) accessed 10 April 2024. [3] Kirsty Weakley, ‘Friends of the Earth and Greenpeace fined for breaches of ‘unworkable’ Lobbying Act’ (Civil Society, 19 April 2017) accessed 10 April 2024. [4] Matthew Taylor, ‘Greenpeace fined under Lobbying Act in ‘act of civil disobedience’’ Guardian (London, 18 April 2017) accessed 10 April 2024. [5] House of Commons Public Administration and Constitutional Affairs Committee (PACAC), ‘Electoral Law: The Urgent Need for Review’ (31 October 2019) 9 accessed 10 April 2024. [6] Committee on Standards in Public Life, ‘Regulating Election Finance’ (July 2021) 89 accessed 10 April 2024. [7] ibid. [8] ibid 94. [9] PACAC (n 5) 14, paragraph 41.

Applause in the executive boardroom. Hands pound backs, mouths twist into smiles. A round man with a stain of indecipherable grease on his shirt collar rises to speak, gesturing inanely at an electronic display. His hands twitch with glee as he highlights data points and maps out forecasts. ‘Returns for this quarter are exceptional, a threefold uptick on last year. Our customer base has expanded markedly. Any number of substantial brand deals. And a few bookings of particular extravagance brought in half a million single handedly. Simply put, they’re dropping like flies’. Uproarious cheer breaks out once more. They had indeed sown a good harvest. Fulfilling their customers’ most neurotic requests gave the assembled board members and lesser functionaries a perverse satisfaction. In a sense, they did genuinely care. But this care was delightfully finite. After the moment of successfully facilitated self-termination, it could freely evaporate. The business model at Blaze of Glory™ ensured that client relationships never lasted too long. It had all begun with Dignitas. Geographical localization of euthanasia laws created an inevitable concentration of demand. Desperate and despairing men and women flocked to Switzerland and Belgium in the hope of outpacing the future. But something strange happened. The allure of death began to take a hold beyond those ‘expected customers’—the terminally ill, irrecoverably deformed, or incurably paedophilic – and exert an almost inexorable pull on the rest of society. Its rapturous theatricality, devil-may-care vibe, and (above all) resplendent finality proved appealing to those wishing to retroactively cement their social status or claim Warhol’s promised fifteen minutes of fame. Minor mutilations did the rounds on social media—for a time, the ‘Stigmata Challenge’ dominated TikTok—but for the real deal, the whole hog, dedicated corporations sprung up, boutique experiences which promised an extinction like no other. Centuries of media satirising bourgeois decadence promptly exited the sphere of fiction. It was a matter of months before four Chinese businessmen found themselves sat in a French villa around a fine wooden table, loaded with all manner of delicacies: quail eggs, dripping churros, a trough of bœuf bourguignon, a monumental Yorkshire pudding drenched in the thickest gravy, consuming and devouring and fucking their brains out with three supine street urchins and a buxom schoolmistress until they slowly wound up dead, gorged with fat and cream atop the table lengthways, faithful to the good old Grande Bouffe down to the smallest detail. Newspaper obituary columns burst their banks and were replaced by dedicated magazines. Martyrdoms were orchestrated with such conviction that sanctification seemed almost guaranteed; terror attacks dropped accordingly. Advertising slogans commanding people to ‘Die doing what you love!’ (or the even less savoury ‘Go out with a bang’) brought hordes of lascivious old men to the doors, swallowing handfuls of Viagra as they waited for their chance to expire as close to the moment of orgasm as possible. Countless weddings were called off after stag nights got out of hand. Television channels offered a round-the-clock programme of self-murder, a source of envy and inspiration in equal measure. This was more than an industry. Suicide had become an art, an ecstatic unity of swansong and encore. It was the chance to be, in death, all which one had not been in life. Enough. That is, I think, enough atrocity for the moment, sufficient verbal bombast. Carry on like that much longer and my thought experiment won’t have any legs to stand on. Since that’s all it is, a thought experiment, a little game to play with myself and string out in words. Think of the untapped riches that remain, from psychologizations of the workforce to population crises, government interventions to ideological counterblasts, here in particular the scope is almost endless, with pleas for a return of suicide to its former authenticity, teenage nihilists unable to cope with the realization of their nocturnal insincerities, class strugglers pressing for the industry’s nationalization and lamenting its domination by the rich, even in death the poor can’t get themselves heard, on and on it goes! Yet at the same time it goes nowhere, nowhere at all. What do I know of suicide? What, indeed, do I know of the world beyond its reconstitution as a mass of tensions and forces, concepts given tortuous names and flagellated in writing? What will this achieve? What, in short, is my right? Seek to reduce your guilt by attempting to include others within it. Turn to critique. And generalise. Raise the conceptual stakes as high as possible. The influence of a writer like Don DeLillo or David Foster Wallace seeps out of the above sketch like mustard from an over-filled sandwich. The same over-stylized form and sprightly ironic tone, the same central motif of a contradiction or minor perversity magnified and drooled over ad absurdum. Spellbound by form, that glossy coat and empty shell. The prose is infected by the same sickness as its protagonists. In this respect, at least, it tells us something we already know, without hinting at the possibility of change. It appears as a monument to the inescapability of our condition. In face of such impotence, we have no choice but to laugh. We revel in it. Infinite Jest is the brick-sized proof of this; Foster Wallace observed that he set out to write a sad book and ended up with a funny one.[1] After that, he set out to write a boring one and pathetically succeeded. And then, at the age of 46, he killed himself. (DeLillo lives on, thrashing out works of increasing mediocrity.) Blame modernity: perhaps it isn’t possible to write a sad book any longer. Here, there is no tragedy, only farce. Theodor Adorno took a dim view of representational art. For him, it inevitably involved the possibility of sadistic identification on the part of the ‘audience’; even the ‘sheer physical pain of people beaten to the ground by rifle butts contains, however remotely, the power to elicit enjoyment’.[2] Years later, conservatives argued that kids playing violent video games would learn to associate happiness with violence, and we all laughed at them. But the issue runs deeper than this merely representative function; the status of art itself appears dangerously entangled with its offering of enjoyment. I exit a cinema showing of Schindler’s List thinking ‘what great art I have just been privy to’, caught in a terminal spiral of self-satisfaction and fawning praise for Stephen Spielberg. W. H. Auden admitted that no single line of his managed to ‘save a single Jew’, since ‘poetry makes nothing happen’.[3] Art imposes itself over the reality it seeks to depict. This is the ambivalence of aestheticization, the trapdoor lurking in the movement from reality to art to audience, in the fundamental artificiality of everything which secures art’s necessary difference from the world. Friedrich Nietzsche wrote that ‘poets are shameless with their experiences: they exploit them’.[4] The lyric poet who confines himself to the nooks and crannies of his own swollen consciousness is a minor offender. Autofiction is arrogant and indulgent, but it knows its place. That Karl Ove Knausgaard’s My Struggle series, the most notorious project of this kind, resulted in nothing more than an angry uncle and some mundane Norwegian family drama makes clear that the exploitation at work here is trivial. Far more shameless is the appropriation of the suffering of others—thousands, millions, impersonal and uncredited—as grist for the aesthetic mill. Look above: suicide isn’t the point. What the piece wants to articulate is a certain feeling for the grotesque nature of modernity. But suicide is traduced, forced to play along in this garish masquerade. ‘The Sunday edition of the Kärtner Volkszeitung carried the following item under “Local News”: “In the village of A. (G. township), a housewife, aged 51, committed suicide on Friday night by taking an overdose of sleeping pills”’.[5] So begins Peter Handke’s novella Wunschloses Unglück (A Sorrow Beyond Dreams); it is his mother who has taken this overdose. Here is no dissimulation; the quoted banality of a regional newspaper report drives home the act’s horrific reality. This is not to say that Wunschloses Unglück is anti-literary. Handke notes that ‘as usual when I am engaged in literary work, I am alienated from myself and transformed into an object, a remembering and formulating machine’—writing as self-reification, mechanisation of the mind.[6] The artist has the privilege of separation from the world, they can write or paint themselves out of a situation and look upon it anew as something transfigured. In the case of Handke, egoistic abstraction is, however, necessarily bound by a filial adherence to the facts of his mother’s life and death. All the same, an unavoidable step is taken by the translation of experience into language, wrestling bodies and minds in motion into the inky strictures of text. For this, form is required – the true engine of prose, that which generates its meaning. Indulgence and alienation loom in this choice also. Selfishness is the inevitable outcome. Claire-Louise Bennett protests that ‘experimental’ prose is not experimental for her, but honest, the product of a background which does not correspond to the literary mainstream.[7] She makes much of being, along with Ann Quin, a working-class female writer who deploys decidedly unusual prose forms in her attempts to make sense of the world. Quin killed herself, in 1973, at the age of 37. Bennett recounts, in Checkout 19, finding a corpse hanging from a tree on a visit to Yorkshire.[8] This may or may not be relevant. Formally, writing appears the opposite of suicide. It is the affirmation of life—even if only one’s own. But is not suicide also an act of self-authoring? Why else would we leave suicide notes? The critic often strikes me as a kind of cuckold, jerking off in the corner of the literary dancefloor. But ‘creative’ writing itself bears an essentially masturbatory character. Events, people, and feelings are co-opted in the interests of stimulating the self, fantasised about at length, and carefully fiddled with before being splurged onto the page. Autofiction, merely the most explicit variety of this, becomes autoeroticism. The same is true of reading and reception: the way in which I’m able to take such joy from a perceptive line of thought or sublime turn of phrase, without it having the slightest impact on my social or political behaviour; the impotence of the beauty I detect within argumentative and aesthetic forms alike, their incisive and interlocking geometries, motivating no single scrap of action aside from buying and reading yet more books to bask on my shelves and dehydrate in the desert sun. The miracle involved in this is that such an apparently selfish activity can not only sublimate the writer’s dysfunctional emotions but also resonate for others. Bernard Mandeville thought that private vices generated public virtues.[9] The more a decadent aristocracy gambled and luxuriated, the more money circulated, allowing all and sundry to reap the rewards. Self-consciously virtuous action could hope for no such inadvertent benefit. The Dutchman’s model is more applicable to aesthetics than economics. Through some perverse transubstantiation in the mind or on the page, the selfish scribbles of those deluded enough to call themselves writers generate a universal benefit. A scrap of daily suffering leavens and nourishes. They slice their own wrists so all can drink. ------- P.S. A retrospective confession: ‘Keep trying, try everything. And if all else fails, say that it is an essay’ (Kurt Tucholsky).[10] Jack Graveney Jack Graveney graduated 2022 with a Starred First in History and German from the University of Cambridge, and will soon be heading to Oxford for a Masters, writing his thesis on labour, happiness, and community in the work of Friedrich Nietzsche. His work has been published in German Life and Letters, The Oxonian Review, The Cambridge Journal of Law, Politics, and Art, and the Cambridge Review of Books.. Jack is the Managing Editor of CJLPA. [1] Cf. Stephen Burn (ed), Conversations with David Foster Wallace (University Press of Mississippi 2012) 55. [2] Theodor Adorno, ‘Commitment’ (1974) I/87-88 New Left Review 85. Originally published in German as ‘Engagement’ in 1962. [3] Auden quoted in Beth Ellen Roberts, ‘W. H. Auden and the Jews’ (2005) 28(3) Journal of Modern Literature 87. [4] Friedrich Nietzsche, Jenseits von Gut und Böse. Vorspiel einer Philosophie der Zukunft (first published 1886, Reclam 1988) §161. Translation the author’s. [5] Peter Handke, A Sorrow Beyond Dreams (first published 1972, Farrar, Straus and Giroux 1974) 3. [6] ibid 5. [7] Cf. Moore Institute, ‘Experimental Fiction: Rob Doyle and Claire-Louise Bennett’ (Youtube, 25 November 2021) accessed 22 June 2022. [8] Claire-Louise Bennett, Checkout 19 (Penguin 2021). [9] Cf. Bernard Mandeville, The Fable of the Bees (first published 1714, Penguin 1989). [10] Ignaz Wrobel [Kurt Tucholsky], ‘Die Essayisten’ Die Weltbühne (28 April 1931) accessed 22 June 2022. Translation the author’s.

Most first novels are emotionally explosive, going to the heart of the individual. Novelist Paul Pickering changed from journalism to fiction after a meeting with a man, known by some to be the war criminal Josef Mengele, the Angel of Death at Auschwitz. Mengele performed deadly experiments on prisoners at the Auschwitz II (Birkenau) concentration camp, where he was a member of the team of doctors who selected victims to be murdered in the gas chambers, and was one of the doctors who administered the gas. He eluded capture possibly because he knew about high-placed people complicit in the Holocaust. Following his encounter with Mengele, Pickering no longer found it possible to write in the simplistic way that newspapers demanded. This journalistic approach could not express the intensity, range, and subtlety of feeling he required, especially as this encounter awakened links with his gypsy and Jewish background. And so he turned to fiction and produced his first highly acclaimed novel Wild About Harry, and he is about to publish his eighth novel, Lucy, on 15 July (Salt), about obedience, rebellion, and genocide. Here he tells of his meeting with the man he was told was Mengele and about his new book, Lucy. After university and a spell on a local evening paper I went on to work for the nationals. I worked for The Times, The Sunday Times, Punch, and Tina Brown’s Tatler. I was then head-hunted by Sir James Goldsmith’s Now! Magazine, and had to set up offices in New York and Washington. One rainy day, buried in the obscure anthropological magazine Survival International, I found a footnote which said that Josef Mengele, the camp doctor and Angel of Death at Auschwitz, was alive and well and poisoning Aché Indians in Paraguay with small-pox impregnated blankets. Wow! I thought. A scoop! Slowly, I gained the trust of the exiled Paraguayan community in New York and the Adams Morgan area of Washington, where an ambassador’s daughter who had been tortured by the far-right government of Alfredo Stroessner, led me to a grief-mad poet named Joél Filátiga. His son had been tortured to death and dumped naked and burned on his doorstep in Asunción. He said he knew where Josef Mengele was and if I helped him and the coup he was planning, he would tell me. Under the guise of a timber importer, I stayed with the poet’s family. I ran messages to the Movimiento Popular Colorado in Posadas, Argentina, which was in the middle of the ‘dirty war’. People were being thrown out of planes over the jungle and I have never seen anywhere so scared, at one house an Alsatian backed away whimpering, thinking I was like the soldiers who had called that morning. I found it easier to identify with the Paraguayan and Argentinian dissidents and desaparecidos than think of Mengele as relevant to me. To this end I carried a copy of a receipt for a histological section of a head of a 12-year-old gypsy boy Mengele had checked out of Auschwitz to take home. He later murdered everyone in the gypsy camp. After the coup failed, Filátiga and everyone not in prison fled. But a German diplomatic contact and a colleague of his I met on the chain-link ferry to Posadas in Argentina, who knew I was looking for Mengele, arranged a meeting with a man called Rodriguez, who the diplomat said was working for the Indian organisation API (Association de Parcialidades Indigenes). On a red dirt road an hour from Hohenau in the south there was a large farmhouse, where a young man took me to a comfortable and unpretentious room with bookshelves loaded with Spanish, English, French, and German books, and a television. French windows opened out onto a garden where another young Paraguayan man sat in a chair, looking in. In a cage was a pink and black bird, a Paraguayan magpie-jay. I tried to hide my surprise as a man who came in immediately resembled the pictures of Mengele I had seen published. He went over to the bird, which knew him, before sitting down. He seemed fit and in late middle-age but was probably older, handsome, and relaxed with a twinkle in his eye and, above all, exuding a straight-backed European charm, as if we were in a café in Berlin. He was warm and expressive. The man did not smoke and we drank coffee. I knew there was a Rodriguez who worked for API through English contacts in the organisation and had seen a picture of him. The man sitting in the chair opposite me was not this Rodriguez. I said I was writing about the south of Paraguay and that the German diplomat in the capital said I should contact him, and we started to talk. The man spoke fluent German-accented English. On the desk was a book in German about Günzburg in Bavaria, Mengele’s hometown. Our talk moved to the local Germans and he mentioned Alban Krug and said he stayed with him (as Mengele had) and with Armand Raeyners, ex-SS owner of the Hotel Tirol in Hohenau, I said he must not have expected to have to leave Günzburg. He nodded and said he had been there for almost five years after the war ended. He paused and was looking at the man outside the French windows. Then he said: ‘I did not think I would have to go over borders dressed as a woman’, which caused me to blink. I then asked him if he was Josef Mengele. I tried to make the question as gentle as possible. The bird shrieked. The man just sat there smiling. The silence went on and on and an old clock was ticking away. He was staring at me with vivid blue eyes. The young man I first met came in through the door and the other, outside the French windows, approached the glass. The one who had come through the door beckoned me and the man who I had asked if he was Mengele continued smiling. No further words were said but there was no doubt our meeting was over. He stood, we shook hands, and I left. There were no guns, no security, no one followed my rusting Volkswagen beetle. I saw no other cars on my way back. I remember my mouth being very dry. Mengele knew how to use the power of his own myth in a post-colonial world. The relaxed meeting is where the transformation of the Faustian character, the Doctor, into the affable Harry originated in my novel. Mengele playfully used the alias Dr Fausto Rindón. Dark humour was never far away, as when I got lost in Asunción and had to ask the secret policeman following me the way. He did not know either. In the south, one house where I stayed, an orphan’s refuge, was frequently surrounded and machine gunned by the local warlord, a South African priest, who shot a man in the foot for talking in church. Back in Asunción I was arrested, but managed to escape across the Paraná river, under blankets in the back of a taxi. Photographic or taped proof of my meeting with the man I was told was Mengele was not possible, so there was no journalistic coup and the complex, paradoxical nature of Paraguay, inaccessible to journalism, impelled me towards my first novel, as did the meeting itself with the calm, amused, blue-eyed man with his red-bound copies of Balzac that somehow reminded me of my anti-fascist father, a note of nostalgia for the innocence of childhood that I had not expected to be triggered by Mengele, who embraced power in a terrible but non-political way. I think he enjoyed the mass-killing, the torture, the fake experiments as a diverting entertainment and when it was over adapted, smiling, to the peace. I have thought of him increasingly since writing Wild About Harry as, for me, he is the ultimate destructive protagonist. The apotheosis of the absence of good. I had been working undercover for months and was sacked for using my company American Express card to support the coup, but fortunately had a contract and a pay-off so went to the Trinidadian carnival. In the meantime, my wife had fallen off a platform bed in our flat and broken a vertebra in her back—we were not able to talk and for a while she did not know I was alive, because Private Eye, so helpfully, had said I had committed suicide. When I returned to London, I wrote a funny column for The Times and an agent asked if I had ever thought of writing a novel. My near fatal hunt for Mengele, the coup, the shootings, the torture, and the repression, provoked an earthquake change to fiction and my first novel Wild About Harry. My new novel Lucy, my eighth, is a return to my core themes of the bargains we make and authoritarianism. And to Berlin, like my third novel, the New York Times Notable Book of the Year, The Blue Gate of Babylon. Lucy takes as its epigraph the quote from Hannah Arendt: ‘No one has the right to obey’, whatever bargain they have made, Faustian—with the devil—or otherwise. The book is about how one survivor in Berlin takes over the lives of three others, in the way Hitler took over a country. In Lucy the man takes them over sexually as well. Operation Lucy, once an idealistic if shabby espionage ring against the Nazis, has changed into one that murders communists and rebels not killed by Hitler, and ultimately its own operatives. Like the authoritarian character in the book, or the Third Reich, Lucy becomes a self-devouring monster. The novel is absurdist and at times darkly comic, pointing out the best intentions, when they pass through the looking-glass of human failings, are most often changed to the opposite. Lucy taps into a welcome sea-change across the world about obedience and rebellion, the mounting student protests across America and Europe and Africa and Asia against the horror in Gaza. Lucy takes place in the actual and moral wasteland of immediate post-war Berlin. For me, no one has the right to the Nuremberg defence, ‘I was only obeying orders’. Set partly in a German kibbutz, founded by Nazis to remove Jews from Germany, Lucy shows a clash between the utopian ideas of the kibbutz and the toxic nationalism and colonialism necessary to found the state of Israel, a state the rabbi in the book points out was forbidden by God after the destruction of the temple. I hope Lucy is an anti-war novel in the tradition of Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut and Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. Catch-22 means no escape because of contradictory rules, Lucy is the Lucifer paradox, where the only good is bad, and only bad is good. And it is a gypsy woman and refugee who most completely rebels, and literally washes herself clean in the blood of revolution. I believe Lucy’s story prefigures the new tectonic changes, alive and growing in our world, which will be for the better. I am an optimist. Paul Pickering Paul Pickering is the author of seven novels, Wild About Harry, Perfect English, The Blue Gate of Babylon, Charlie Peace, The Leopard’s Wife, Over the Rainbow and Elephant. The Blue Gate of Babylon was a New York Times notable book of the year, who dubbed it ‘superior literature’. Often compared to Graham Greene and Evelyn Waugh, Pickering was chosen as one of the top ten young British novelists by bookseller WH Smith and has been long-listed for the Booker Prize three times. Educated at the Royal Masonic Schools and the University of Leicester, he has a PhD in Creative Writing from Bath Spa University where he is a Visiting Fellow, presented his doctoral thesis to the Bulgakov Society in Moscow, recently completed a Hawthornden Fellowship Residency on Lake Como and is a member of the Folio Prize Academy. The novelist J.G. Ballard said Pickering’s work is ‘truly subversive’. As well as short stories and poetry, he has written plays, film scripts and columns for The Times and Sunday Times. He lives in London and the Pyrenees. A major theme of his novel Elephant, published by Salt in 2021, is innocence. His new blackly comic, absurdly realist novel Lucy, about obedience and rebellion, political and sexual, is published on July 15 by Salt. He is working on a new novel, CONVERSATION WITH A LION, about how things fit together and fly apart. The novel tries to explain the impossible absurdity of living, impossible like a conversation with a lion.

In the 1967 gangster road movie Bonnie and Clyde, the often-horrific events of the real-life story are cut with ingenuous humour and sheer innocence. In the bleak landscape of dust bowl America, we are rooting for Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty from the start, even though we know their love is doomed and they will die in a summary execution in a car riddled with bullets. The historic couple themselves knew this, as Bonnie Parker wrote in a poem: ‘It’s death to Bonnie and Clyde’. Yet we come out of the cinema, or off Netflix, convinced the couple are innocent, if not heroic. As Albert Camus says in The Rebel: ‘Every act of rebellion reveals a nostalgia for innocence and an appeal to the essence of being’.[1] One of the things the film, inspired by French existentialist new wave cinema, illustrates is that present-day legal systems have not caught up with philosophical thinking, in the same way the hapless police cars pursue the bank-robbing duo to state lines. Innocence has never been just a passive result of justice when guilt is not found, but a subjective phoenix-like state of childlike being. Camus’ thinking owes much to Arthur Schopenhauer’s book, Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung: the world as will and representation.[2] For Schopenhauer, as with Bonnie and Clyde, existence is meaningless except for our river of wantings (Wille) and what we individually and subjectively make of them. In Bonnie and Clyde’s case, this is their tender love affair and increasingly catastrophic robberies. Schopenhauer in turn was inspired by the poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, especially his Faust, where Goethe inverts morality, the true innocent, Gretchen, goes to the gallows, and even the devil Mephistopheles cannot be sure of his outcomes: ‘That power I serve, which wills forever evil, yet does forever good’.[3] In its humanism the Enlightenment turned everything upside down, but not the law. The Faust legend partially derives from the story of Eve and the garden of Eden, where Eve eats of the Tree of Knowledge, and discovers not just sin and the fig-leaf bikini, but free will. This wickedness, paradoxically, led to science, individual reasoning, democracy, the public meeting, and its natural corollary, the jury trial. But the law itself has not embraced either existentialist thinking or, say, the Marxist-inspired structuralism of Michel Foucault, who said we should applaud criminals for keeping the justice system in work. The courts prefer instead to stress guilt, traceable to Eve’s original sin, and dress up in spooky 17th-century costumes to reinforce the point. The call is for ever tougher sentences, yet there is little evidence these would have any effect on crime.[4] In Clyde Barrow’s case they certainly did not, and he even cut off one of his toes to get released early. In the UK, the legal system has a Ruritanian monarchy at its head and is proud of ancient feudal rituals and traditions; in Kafkaesque court documents, it is always R or Rex against the supposedly innocent accused. No former prisoner I have met will admit fully to his crime, even if he has pleaded guilty. The very act of thinking makes us feel like Gods, even if we know nothing of Descartes and cogito ergo sum. Possibly the beauty of the world and looking out at the helter-skelter wantings of Schopenhauer’s Wille make us feel innocent again, whatever we have done, but the law does not take this into consideration. There is this innocent joy of life and appreciation of art, in particular music and language, in the character of Alex in Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange, so much so that the reader is sickened by his reprogramming at the hands of the state. ‘Oh it was gorgeousness and gorgeosity made flesh. The trombones crunched redgold under my bed, and behind my gulliver the trumpets three-wise silverflamed, and there by the door the timps rolling through my guts and out again crunched like candy thunder […] I was in such bliss, my brothers’.[5] Burgess saw the book as a sermon on free will. Jean Genet, in The Thief’s Journal,[6] likens convicts to flowers, and his demi-monde is inverted in a way that underscores Schopenhauer’s ideas and those of Jean-Paul Sartre, to whom the book is dedicated. In Genet’s jails and mean streets, as Mick Jagger sings in ‘Sympathy for the Devil’, written after reading Mikhail Bulgakov’s Faust-inspired Master and Margarita,[7] ‘All the cops are criminals, and all the sinners saints’. To view the legal system as a zero-sum game, where innocence is defined or denied ‘objectively’ in a brief timeframe by a court, or by the police, can have consequences. When the law comes into contact with the ‘street’, occasionally the reaction can show just how philosophically out of step on innocence we have become. The ‘outlaw’ Mark Duggan, of Irish Afro-Caribbean descent, was shot by police on 4 August 2011 after the police had decided he was guilty, but the more humanist ‘street’ thought otherwise and, helped by mobile phone connections, there were days of nationwide rioting and a bill of 100 million pounds.[8] Messing with subjective perceptions of innocence can be costly as well as fatal. Wearing a hijab in Iran is a mark of chastity and obedience. But the killing of Mahsa Amini by the morality police for not wearing one correctly also sparked riots, led by fifteen-year-old girls who are Eve-like in their rebellion and innocence. Paradoxically, rehabilitation of serious offenders could be improved by using, not denying, this mantle of presumed innocence and accepting violent rebellion as part of being human. The Law Society has tried to modernise with publications like ‘Law in the Emerging Bio Age’ and the linked ‘postcards from the next normal’, but seems to shy away from a modern philosophical rethink of jurisprudence.[9] In the picture from the film, Bonnie Parker is wearing a chaste head covering, but she also, wisely, has her finger on a trigger of her Colt Detective Special .38 revolver. Paul Pickering Paul Pickering is the author of seven novels, Wild About Harry, Perfect English, The Blue Gate of Babylon, Charlie Peace, The Leopard’s Wife, Over the Rainbow and Elephant. The Blue Gate of Babylon was a New York Times notable book of the year, who dubbed it ‘superior literature’. Often compared to Graham Greene and Evelyn Waugh, Pickering was chosen as one of the top ten young British novelists by bookseller WH Smith and has been long-listed for the Booker Prize three times. Educated at the Royal Masonic Schools and the University of Leicester, he has a PhD in Creative Writing from Bath Spa University where he is a Visiting Fellow, presented his doctoral thesis to the Bulgakov Society in Moscow, recently completed a Hawthornden Fellowship Residency on Lake Como and is a member of the Folio Prize Academy. The novelist J.G. Ballard said Pickering’s work is ‘truly subversive’. As well as short stories and poetry, he has written plays, film scripts and columns for The Times and Sunday Times. He lives in London and the Pyrenees. A major theme of his novel Elephant, published by Salt in 2021, is innocence. [1] Albert Camus, The Rebel (first published 1951, Vintage 1991) 54. [2] Arthur Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Representation (first published 1819, Dover Publications 1958). [3] Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust (first published 1808/1832, Macmillan 1965) passages 1335-6. [4] See Daniel S Nagin, Francis T Cullen, and Cheryl Lero Jonson, ‘Imprisonment and Reoffending’ (2009) 38(1) Crime and Justice 115-200. [5] Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange (Heinemann 1962) 28. [6] Jean Genet, The Thief’s Journal (Penguin 1967) 1. [7] Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita (Vintage 1967). [8] Paul Lewis, ‘'All hell broke loose': Oxford graduate held at gunpoint by police’ Guardian (London, 7 August 2011) accessed 10 September 2022. [9] Wendy Schultz and Trish O’Flynn, ‘Law in the Emerging Bio Age’ (The Law Society, August 2022) accessed 11 October 2022.

Professor Mark P Denbeaux is an American attorney, professor, and author. He holds the position of Law Professor at Seton Hall University School of Law in Newark, New Jersey, and serves as the Director of its Center for Policy and Research. Denbeaux is renowned for his extensive work on the Guantanamo Bay detention camp, producing influential reports and testifying before Congress on the subject. He, along with his son Joshua Denbeaux, served as legal representatives for two Tunisian detainees at Guantanamo. Additionally, Denbeaux is the lead Civilian Military Commission Counsel for two individuals who were subjected to torture by the CIA in black sites before their detainment. CJLPA: Welcome, Professor Mark Denbeaux. Thank you very much for taking the time to come and interview with The Cambridge Journal of Law, Politics, and Art. Today, we would like to concentrate this interview on your research on Guantanamo Bay. Can you briefly tell us why you became involved in legal work around Guantanamo Bay? Mark Denbeaux: I have always been a civil rights lawyer. It started in Selma, Alabama, in 1965 and kept going. I represented Black Panthers, handled sex discrimination cases, and various other issues, including criminal defence work. My son came to me—he is also a lawyer. Josh said to me, ‘Dad, what do you think of Guantanamo?’. I said I had not thought much about it. This was right after the Supreme Court decision came down, giving the right to some kind of legal representation in Guantanamo. And he said, ‘Well, do you think they have the right guys there?’ I said, ‘I am sure they have some of the right guys, and I am sure they got some of the wrong guys. And it is the normal thing: they can’t tell’. He said, ‘Do you think Grandpa would have believed that Patton’s Third Army could distinguish the good Germans from the bad Germans?’ I said, ‘Absolutely not. Dad would not have thought Patton had a clue who the good Germans were from the bad Germans’. Then I said, ‘But Josh, Dad would not have cared either. Because he did not believe there were any good Germans’. (They had liberated two camps.) So Josh said, ‘Well, is not that the point?’ I thought about it a little bit, and then he and I agreed that we ought to try to represent a couple of people down there just to see if we could do what we normally do as lawyers: figure out what the cases are, who should be released, and who should not. Josh got me into it. We joined a group of people who were talking about how to do it—other lawyers, and we went together. At those meetings, they, among other things, referred the names of people who wanted lawyers. They gave Josh and me two, they were two Tunisians. This goes back 20 years. We were given them because the belief was that they were a father and son. Therefore, they thought it would be nice for a father and son to represent a father and son. Well, they were not father and son. They did not know each other. It was a class difference. There was a big difference in many ways. But we represented them. Over the course of years, we got one out to Slovakia. It was about 2009. His name is Rafiq Al Hami. We went to Slovakia to see him. He was quite grumpy. It turns out he had been released to Slovakia, but he had been held in Slovakia in what was a former Soviet prison, which had been renovated so that it was not as harsh. There were sort of groups of people living together. They had quite a bit of freedom. We went to see him, and he said, ‘You know, I can’t leave here for two years. They are teaching me Slovakian’. I said, ‘Well, that’s good’. He said, ‘Can you think of a language that is less useful in the world today than somebody who knows how to speak Slovakian?’ All I could think of was to say, ‘Well, now it opens you up to the whole world of Slovakian literature’. He was not very impressed with that. He was grumpy and unhappy. The truth is we had both Tunisians released and life was not good for either of them when they got out. Rafiq’s brother lawyer in Tunisia. So was his sister. He came from a fairly substantial social class. My other client—Lotfi Bin Ali—was also a Tunisian. He was not healthy. He had rheumatic fever as a child, and he had a rheumatic heart. He left Tunisia when he was 19 to go to Italy, where he was illegal. He was hiding, living on the streets, hand to mouth, and doing various criminal activities, some for which he was captured and prosecuted. But he had surgery on his heart there that helped him. He always wanted to return to Italy to be a chef. Both of them were taken through the various routes. Both of them were tortured in Kabul in the ‘Prison of Darkness’, which is a gross story I can share if you want. They slowly got released: Rafiq to Slovakia and then Lotfi to Kazakhstan. Kazakhstan was not a good place for Lotfi as access to healthcare could have been better. They were very hostile. He was also six foot eight. I did not realise at the time that Kazakhstan is basically an ethnically Chinese country. He could not find any clothes that would fit him. In the wintertime, he could not get winter clothes. He had a tough time. After a lot of work, we had him move to Mauritania, which was at least a Muslim country. Kazakhstan was only nominally Muslim. Mauritania was much better. He had a community there. Sadly, two weeks before he was about to be returned to Tunisia, he dropped dead of a heart attack. He was a very witty, funny man. My wife enjoyed talking to him, and we could use WhatsApp. He was enjoyable in conversations. CJLPA: It means a lot that you built a bond with your clients during your representation of them: you know their story, you were moving forward with them, checking what was happening after they were released. I would encourage you to tell that story about the ‘Prison of Darkness’. MD: I did bond with them. Most of the Guantanamo lawyers, if they stayed any length of time, we all bonded. There was nothing you could really do for your clients except, to some extent, be a human being and have a relationship with them, because they had no other relationships. They were in real isolation except for guards who were hostile to them. As years went by, we got closer and closer. At the beginning, they were not friendly. In the beginning, Rafiq asked what I could do. I said, ‘Well, I’m a lawyer, and the Supreme Court says I can do various things for you’. He said, ‘How big is the Supreme Court’s army?’ Of course, I had to say, well, they do not have an army. He was not impressed, therefore, with the Supreme Court. Over a period of time, I helped him just by keeping human contact. We could send him books to read, do various things, and develop some rapport. I got a phone call about the ‘Prison of Darkness’. One of them was Human Rights Watch, who called me up and said, ‘You know, your client Rafiq was in the Prison of Darkness’. I said, ‘What is the Prison of Darkness?’ He said, ‘Oh, it is in Kabul, et cetera’. He did not describe it to me then. I said ‘Why are you telling me this?’ He said, ‘Well, we are trying to find out all the people who were held in the Prison of Darkness. We know he was there. We would like to know when he was there to fill in the gaps’. I said, ‘Okay, but I do not believe he was because he has never told me this. I have represented him for almost five years’. He said, ‘Believe me, he was there’. Josh and I went down to talk to him. It was a fairly complicated time. He could have been more talkative. Finally, he came into the room. See, one of the things that detainees can do is say ‘no’ to lawyers. It is one of the few things they can say ‘no’ to. So they say ‘your lawyer has come here from New York City. They are here. They would like to see you’, and they can say, ‘No, I am not going to do it’. And that would happen. That was very difficult. You could go down there and maybe have no visits. It is a long trip. During the second part of our visits, he showed up. I was in another meeting with my other client—Lotfi Bin Ali—I came in late, and I walked in. My son said, ‘Dad, do not say a word, sit down, sit there and shut up’. I felt like he must have enjoyed that! He was no longer 17, so there must be something going on. Rafiq had said, ‘I will tell you everything I know about the Prison of Darkness until you ask a single question. As soon as you ask a question, I will not tell you anymore. I had not heard that statement. That is why Josh did not want me to start asking my questions. The story Rafiq told was quite elaborate. First of all, we said, ‘Rafiq, why did you not tell us about this?’ He said, ‘Well, you did not ask’. I said, ‘Rafiq, I would not know to ask about a “Prison of Darkness” in Kabul’. So he did tell us. Here is the story he told us the first time, and Lotfi confirmed it, because they were more or less overlapping in their time there. The Prison of Darkness was in Kabul near the airport, sometimes called the ‘salt pit’. NPR found the location and described it, and they have shown it on television, but they described it in a less vivid way because it was already gone when they got there. First, for some context, Rafiq’s story. Rafiq was from Tunisia and had gone to Germany, where he had been selling drugs, making money, and getting into problems. He had stashed a lot of money away. Finally, a group of people came to him and said, ‘Look, you are being a bad Muslim’. They made arrangements to send him to Pakistan, where he went. While he was in Pakistan, the US started bombing Afghanistan after 9/11. The Pakistanis did not want the Arabs there. So, he was pushed into Afghanistan and ended up in Kabul. When the US started bombing it, he had enough money to hire a guide to guide him through the mountains into Iran. As he said, that was not a great choice for a destination. He paid a certain amount of money to be taken there, and then his guide sold him to the Iranians for even more money. He was held in five different Iranian prisons. I asked him about Guantanamo. He said, ‘Oh, there are many worse prisons. I have been in five war prisons in Iran’. I said, ‘Well, how did you get to Kabul?’ He said, ‘Well, what happened was the US wanted all of us who were captured to be given to them’. So Iran gave them—those many people who ended up in Guantanamo—over to Afghanistan, who then handed over them to the US. Officially, Iran was sent not intervening, but they were flown to Afghanistan by Iran. He was brought in and put in the ‘Prison of Darkness’. You go in a big building. There is loud noise, very few windows, people shouting, music. They move you into another room. They get all your clothes, everything off there. That room is really like a hallway, it has a door into the hallway that gives some light. When you close the door, there is no light in the hallway. The door was open when he went in. They took his clothes off, and he was naked. They then closed the door and then took him through another door into a smaller room. While they took him in there, there was a bar going across, four feet up from the floor, in a five-foot-tall room, so you could not stand. Once in the room, they were made to stand up with one hand, the other hand, or both hands locked to a pole, for an unknown amount of time, because there were no clocks, lights, or calendars. They were naked. They were quite upset that there was no way for any sanitation facilities. They would have to soil themselves. They stopped eating. They went through a very difficult time. Occasionally, they would be put against a wall with one hand in a ring just above their heads. They could sit and lean against it. Sometimes, they rotated their hands. He was here for about six weeks. About once or twice a week, he would be taken out of the room naked. Rafiq described how he was taken into a room to be interrogated by a woman interrogator speaking fluent English, an American woman who was dressed, and he was standing there naked. It was incredibly difficult for all of them to be naked, even moreso in front of women. He was at some point released and sent to the Bagram International Airport Prison. He was there when one of the detainees was killed. There is a documentary about it called Taxi to the Dark Side. He was brought as a witness, but he did not know anything. I learned similar things from Lotfi Ben Ali. But the picture is the same. It is dark, cold, naked, no food, no ability to sit or stand for an unknown length of time. CJLPA: How would you interpret the impact of international human rights laws and conventions on the legal framework governing the detention of individuals in Guantanamo Bay? MD: Well, I am a law professor, so I would like to think that somehow the law mattered here. But it is not easy to see where the law mattered in any of this. Torture is illegal, no matter what the Department of Justice says. And they tortured: I have represented four people, all of whom were tortured. Two were held as high-value detainees, and all that means is the CIA wanted permission to torture them, not because they were important. Both of the clients I am talking about now—my Tunisians—were released. In theory, they were supposed to be free to go. One of the things that I have been interested in is how basically benign these individuals were. The truth is, they were a mixture of people, some lost souls looking for something to do, some swept up at the wrong time in the wrong way. The clients I had, the government admits, never committed any hostile acts against the US or its allies, but they were captured for a variety of reasons. Now, the real problem was America panicked. We were hysterical. We did not know what to do, so you reach out and think you have to do something. They grabbed people but did not even know who they had caught. One of our reports concluded that only 4% of the people held in Guantanamo were held because the United States caught them. Warlords, tribal chieftains, and local police in Afghanistan, Pakistan, and other places turned over 96%. The US never even knew the evidence against people because they were just being handed over. When it comes to torture and interrogation, there are three models of torture involved. The simple one is the American, the Western world’s view of interrogation, which is that the US police and the FBI bring people in and almost always talk to them. This is what is called ‘relationship building’ by the FBI. They will come in at a certain date and bring people in to talk to them. Those people know what crime has been committed and where. They have reasons to want to ask the person questions, and they have a pretty good focus on what they are trying to find. They are pretty good at it. Much as I would not admit it in court, they do not do a whole lot of physical abuse. Then you have military intelligence, which is really designed only to find out what is over the next hill. They want to have no ambushes, and so on. That works. Then we invented something that said, let’s find out who are bad people who do not like the United States. That is all they were looking for because they did not know what else to look for. All of these people brought into Guantanamo were brought in by people who did not have any evidence because there was not any. It is important to note that of all the 773 people initially brought to Guantanamo, there are about 15 left. All the others have been released. And there has been no problem. The single biggest indictment of Guantanamo is the fact that whenever people were released, they went back. Rafiq, when he was released, ended up in Tunisia. He was married, had a couple of kids, and was running a used appliance store in Tunis. All of them did that. So they had the wrong people in Guantanamo from the beginning. That made things difficult for everybody. The problem was the torture once 9/11 happened. We decided we needed to find out who the people who did not like us were and what they planned to do to hurt us. The CIA were the ones trying to be the inquisitors, but they were humiliated by having missed 9/11, and they were desperate to prove how good and clever they were. But their problem was how to get information out, and there were a lot of meetings in September and October about who they could target. The debate was between the FBI and the CIA. The question was: who was the target? How could they deal with it? They all wanted to torture. The problem is that everybody would like to have a magic bullet that will make people tell the truth. Of course, nobody trusts anybody. They end up feeling like they have to coerce. The American model ended up saying: We have got to find some way to find out the truth. As I have pointed out, the ancient Chinese, the Romans, the Florentines, Russians have tried to do that. The Nazis have tried to do that. The one problem they have is that it is not hard to make people talk. Everybody will talk. Al-Qaeda’s rule was: if you are caught, they are going to make you talk. But they needed to feel like they were doing something magical, having missed the opportunity. A lot of this was driven by the CIA’s desperate desire to find a way to discover truths through a magic secret that no one else has ever been able to do. That was a big part of it. CJLPA: If we start talking about the techniques of torturing, we should also mention Dr James Elmer Mitchell, who developed a list of ‘enhanced interrogation techniques’. What distinguishes Dr Mitchell as the significant figure behind the Guantanamo Bay torture regime? What specific role did medical professionals serve in this context? MD: Those are a lot of very good questions. Let me start by saying that it is not the Guantanamo Bay torture. It is the torture program. Much of the torture was done before they got to Guantanamo. In fact, by the time people arrived in Guantanamo, the torture was virtually over. Now, Guantanamo would like you to believe they never tortured there. They would like you to believe it was never, for any moment, a dark side. But they were tortured there. It was a dark side for a while, something that is never confirmed objectively, but all circumstantial evidence makes clear that was happening. It is clear Mitchell was in Guantanamo. Let’s talk about Mitchell and the CIA. The problem is that Mitchell worked for the Air Force. He worked for a program helping retrieve downed pilots. He had set up a program called Survive-Evade-Resist-Escape. So they are supposed to survive, evade, and then try to resist and escape, and resistance is avoiding interrogation. Michell was running that. The thing that Mitchell was doing was teaching Americans how to resist being interrogated. But he was in the Air Force. Let me stop to make one point clear. All of the Mitchell activities that are relevant to torture began the weekend Abu Zubaydah was captured. On 27 March 2000, the night before he was captured, the CIA had a meeting with PowerPoints and descriptions of what would happen, and their key role was that they would be the only people interrogating. They specifically did not want the military or the FBI doing it. That is kind of shocking because the FBI knew how to interrogate. Ironically, the CIA did not. The CIA is in foreign countries. You cannot catch somebody, take them to jail and ask questions. Generally, the CIA buys spies or uses electronic materials and rarely interrogates them. When they did, like in Vietnam, they did terrible things that were also pointless. The CIA hired Mitchell on 4 April. It is remarkable: on 27 March, they did not want the Defense Department or the FBI involved. By 4 April, they hired a former DOD person who was in charge of helping people resist interrogations. The Deputy Director of the CIA at that time was asked why they did it. And he said, ‘Well, we were in unchartered waters. We needed help’. This is pretty staggering if you realise that three days earlier, they said, ‘We do not want any help from anybody’. Then they admit, four days later, that they did not know how to do it. It may have been the first and maybe the last truthful thing they said about this. The techniques that he developed were reverse engineering of this air force program. Most of the torture program after Abu Zubaydah was captured was a bureaucratic fight between the FBI and the CIA, and not enough has been made of this. Zubaydah was the first person the CIA ever caught in this area of the world. They shot him, and he was almost dying. The FBI agents were there. They were the first people to interrogate him and talk to him, partly because they had some Arab-speaking agents, whereas Mitchell is anything but an Arab. The CIA began to box out the FBI over and over again, in a variety of ways. The FBI was only around when Zubaydah was seriously injured, and needed some attention from people he was more comfortable with. He was being interrogated in April after he was captured, but most of the month, he was very ill. Then, in May, there was some further interrogation. On 2 June, the FBI quit. They pulled out. One of the reasons that Mitchell and Bruce Jessen developed their techniques was not because they knew they worked. Their techniques had two components: they had to be so harsh that the FBI agents could not use them. Because the FBI is regulated by domestic law in the United States and anywhere in the world, they needed techniques that were too horrific for the FBI to be able to use. Once they permitted those, the CIA could use them, and the FBI would not. So, this dispute between agencies is crucial here. When the FBI pulled out on 2 June, Abu Zubaydah was never interviewed again by the CIA or the FBI until he was tortured in early August. He was put in isolation in June until 4 August. The justification for torturing him was that he was claimed to be aware of imminent attacks on the United States, and that they therefore needed to get the truth from him quickly. They got that permission on 4 August, but of course, two months had gone by when they never even asked him a question, so it is quite clear that the techniques were not designed to get information from him. That is understandable because the FBI has reports of the interviews in April and May, where he did not know much. The CIA eventually had to admit, when the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence established certain facts, that Abu Zubaydah had never been in Al-Qaeda, never run an Al-Qaeda camp, committed no terrorist acts, and attacked no one. However, he was the first one they caught, and they needed permission to use these techniques. If they did not have permission from the Justice Department to use these techniques, there was a very good chance the FBI agents would report them for using these techniques, because they were crimes were under American law. In late June and early July, the CIA was asking the Department of Justice to agree not to prosecute CIA agents for the acts they had already done, as well as the acts they were planning to do. The CIA, with Mitchell, worked out a series of techniques that nobody could be permitted to use without permission from the Department of Justice, and indeed, the FBI could not, so there could be no competitors. All they needed to do was convince people that these harsh techniques were very successful because they could get information out. Based on that, they put together a series of lies in which they claimed they had found things from Abu Zubaydah. The Senate Select Committee of Intelligence, in its mammoth report of 556 executive pages, which cites Abu Zubaydah 1100 times, made it clear that the CIA got nothing the FBI had not already gotten. So before they sent him in to be tortured, they knew everything there was to know. My students ask me the question: How can it be that people wanted to invent a torture system to torture somebody who they knew did not know anything? That question is the hardest question I ever have trying to publish our materials. It is understandable why anybody, and certainly Americans, would be so horrified to find out that they picked somebody who was not an Al-Qaeda terrorist and got permission to torture him, in order to get information that the torturers knew he didn’t have. And the answer was simple: they wanted permission to use these techniques on other people, and they wanted to be sure that they could not be prosecuted for the techniques they had used. That is how the torture program began. In this sense, it does not have a lot to do with Guantanamo. One of my discoveries going through research on Guantanamo was that terrible things were happening everywhere else in the world. Guantanamo could not be worse if you looked at it, but it turns out other places could be far worse. CJLPA: How would you describe the psychological and emotional toll on the detainees held in Guantanamo Bay? You previously told us that they sometimes thought it was not the worst prison they had been in, but the conditions there were far from humane. MD: We are talking about Guantanamo. As the world knows, Poland had to pay hundreds of thousands of euros because they allowed the US to torture people there. Lithuania is the same way: countries that the European Court of Human Rights did not cover. So, first of all, the worst torture always happened outside of Guantanamo. The worst of the worst in Guantanamo were brought in September of 2006. All the harm had been done then, and they were badly tortured. I do not mean them just being held in isolation. They were chained and could not walk. I have never seen my clients take a step. I only see them chained to the floor when I go into a room. It is hard to measure how isolated it is. The torture we described was horrific, but it was constant. For instance, they were held nude almost all the time in brightly lit, white rooms. They were nude with loud music and air conditioning, and it was cold. Intermittently, they would be sprayed with water. The Department of Justice approved none of these things. These were inventions of the young men, thinking they could find a magic secret. People should look at the report, which includes not only 40 drawings by Abu Zubaydah but also his descriptions of each of them. The government probably wishes we had not been able to get them. But we did. It is the history of what torture was, not the history of the program that was approved, because here was no connection. There were three or four pictures in there when somebody had been drowning in wooden boxes, put underwater and held there. They could barely breathe, and would have to urinate on themselves. They would have all sorts of things. There were threats of anal rape. The Department of Justice approved none of these things. These were just people out there trying to find some new gimmick, Mitchell and Jessen primarily. Of course, there were other people, but we do not know their names. So, Mitchell ran the whole thing. He has made at least $100 million for this project, and the CIA was happy to pay him so they could control who the interrogators were and what techniques could be used. Now, the CIA is stuck, having failed to get useful information. America, for the first time, officially and formally created a torture program. It is very difficult to absorb. For 15 years, I have taught many students who do not believe it when they walk in. When they come out, they are shocked. What is the effect on those tortured? Sleep—they do not sleep. Some have gastrointestinal problems, some have headaches, and some simply have anger issues. It would be hard to imagine the emotional and physical problems that they do not have. You cannot just do that to people for six years or more. Imagine 35-year-old people having broomsticks shoved near their anus, making things like they are about to be raped and never knowing if it was going to happen or not, whilst being chained to the floor with women watching, spraying water on them all the time in cold rooms. Mitchell’s trick was called ‘learned helplessness’, which psychologists are aware of as a technique. It’s not a rational technique in this context. He wanted to make them feel so helpless that they could not resist telling the truth. The problem was that they had already told their truths over and over again. They wanted to find more truths that did not exist. The ‘learned helplessness’ comes down to sleep deprivation. If you look at each of the torture techniques, where they are confined in a small box, where they are put in a little cage, where they are being sprayed with water, or people threatening anal rape or being banged against walls and hit—all of the things they did, they were done consecutively and constantly. For the first 17 days Abu Zubaydah was held after their permission to torture him, they constantly went through all of the techniques, one after the other. They did not stop and ask him questions that you would think they would do. They did not do that. They were just trying to break him, so they could get him in a state where it would be easy to get him to talk. For 17 days, 24 hours a day, they were doing this to him. So even what they got out of him would have been incoherent and irrational, and all of them agree, they would easily have talked. None of them believed you could resist it. It is impossible. You cannot resist somebody hurting you in some way of that nature. So, how much harm did it cause? I would not want to mention it, but I cannot measure it. It is hideous. That is horrible. CJLPA: What were the primary legal and practical issues faced by attorneys presenting detainees at Guantanamo Bay, and how did you overcome them? MD: There were no legal challenges to talk about because there is no law in Guantanamo. They have a right to a habeas corpus lawyer, but people cannot win habeas corpus cases because even if you win your case, the government can still prevent your client from being released to another country. There is no victory possible. Everybody released from Guantanamo has been released through political issues, some human rights organisations, countries wanting their citizens back, various things like that. So, I do not want a misunderstanding: nobody should believe the legal system helped get anybody out of Guantanamo. They may have helped them see lawyers, but the system did not do anything, the system as we understand it. The problem is dealing with people who are so foreign to you. When I was going down there the first time, I remember telling somebody, ‘You know, when you put a bunch of guys together in a room, and they do not know each other, what do they talk about?’ My friend said, ‘Well, we talked about politics, sports, sex, and religion’. I said, ‘What else is there?’ Hell, I’m about to meet a fundamentalist Muslim, and I cannot sit there and talk to him about religion. I cannot tell him about politics. I do not think I am going to be talking to him about sex. Maybe it is sports, but I do not even know what sports they have. So we started not knowing anything, but it turned out they were like everybody else: they wanted to talk about sports, politics, religion, and sex. It is the same there. It is a universality that continues, but it was very hard to establish a relationship. They did not think you could help them. And we could not. All we could end up doing was having a relationship with them. Slowly, with the State Department’s help, you could find somebody to get out little by little. But the legal system should not get any credit for getting anybody out or stopping torture. CJLPA: How, if at all, did Guantanamo Bay impact the US legal system? MD: I do not know if it has any effect on the legal system. The most useful things were probably human rights organisations trying to use political power. Lawyers, with some political power, were quite effective at getting people out. I would have said that an informal, low-key political conversation about it would do it; it would be very hard to see how the legal system did it. I think one problem is that it has damaged a lot of lawyers’ belief in the system. I have come to conclude that every country if it panics and gets scared, does stupid, crazy, and occasionally mean things. America panicked and was scared, and after 9/11, did many horrible things, thinking it was a good idea. Panic, fear and hysteria do not bring out the best in people. Every country when they are cornered like that, will do that, and we did. I do not know, but I do feel like, slowly, people are looking back, saying, ‘We sure do not want another Guantanamo’. This kind of thing will not happen. But, in the Second World War, we locked up Japanese people on the West Coast, and we said that would never happen again. There is always something that will never happen again because it is a pretty ugly world out there. People just keep working. The legal system works well when the world and the system itself are going well. When it gets all blown up, the legal system is no better at stopping this than anything else. CJLPA: People largely do not talk about Guantanamo Bay anymore. How do we make American citizens understand history, to ensure that these tragic events remain in the past and do not get repeated? MD: Well, we have been writing reports about Guantanamo and torture. They have got some attention. We have collected some data, people have been looking at them, and PhD dissertations are going through materials that have been collected. I think there are a whole lot of facts out there that people are paying attention to. I do not know if it is enough, but it is significant. All we can ever do is just try to get the truth out and help people learn. I do not think there is a silver bullet to keep America from doing terrible things if it is scared and attacked again, either. That is true of every country. CJLPA: Many thanks. This interview was conducted by Angelina Spilnyk, a graduate of the Ivan Franko National University of Lviv, Ukraine, in 2022 with a major in International Public Law. Alongside her position as a Legal Researcher at CJLPA, she is pursuing a Master’s in Maritime Law at the University of Southampton.

Moneim Adam is a human rights attorney and the Gisa Group’s Program Director for the Sudan Human Rights Hub (SHRH). He began his career in Sudan as a criminal and human rights lawyer, representing numerous activists and non-governmental organizations in local courts. He has been in practice for over a decade. During this time, he worked with organizations like Redress and others, focusing mostly on strategic litigation. Following that, he moved into the field of international law, helping and working alongside international organizations like the International Criminal Court (ICC) in their operations in Sudan, supporting the ICC’s efforts to establish connections between survivors and victims in Darfur and Khartoum and to link victims with international mechanisms. During Sudan’s transitional period following the 2018 revolution, he gave special attention to supporting the transitional justice initiative. He collaborated closely with regional, international, and UN organizations, including the OHCHR, to support the process of working with all parties involved. His current areas of interest are advocacy, archiving, and documentation related to accountability. This interview was conducted on 15 December 2023. CJLPA: We would like to begin by thanking you, Moneim Adam, for taking the time to interview with The Cambridge Journal of Law, Politics, and Art. Your extensive career as a lawyer combined with your advocacy provides a valuable perspective on pressing Sudanese issues. In this particular segment, we would like to address the events going on in Sudan, specifically, human rights issues, the role of international actors, and most of all the place of justice and peace in Sudanese society in the midst of rising conflict in the region. Moneim Adam: Thank you for having me. It is a pity to say that Sudanese people in marginalised communities are suffering in different regions in Sudan as we speak. Actually, in fact, in the entire nation. Efforts are being made, and this has taken place for many decades, we have grown up in this atmosphere, we are looking at the positives and we are always looking for venues and efforts—how we can help people to address human rights issues, to be able to articulate, to be supported, how they can address the issues. We have different types of initiatives, being a lawyer and being an activist. I think we will get to speak during the interview about all of these subjects. CJLPA: How has your work before domestic courts and as a legal adviser for international organisations shaped your perspective on justice and accountability in Sudan? MA: I worked in Sudan as a lawyer about 13 years ago, and I started my career working in domestic courts as well as working with international organisations, addressing issues [such] as torture, battery arrest, and other issues facing young activists and politicians, by guaranteeing the right to assembly and [addressing] how they can work and advocate for the local societies. This experience really was shared throughout the years as I started working immediately with an international organisation that was based in London. During this time we helped to protect the youth to be able to demonstrate their rights as non-violent activists, so we faced issues connected to domestic laws, domestic systems, and domestic authorities, as they can detain the activists arbitrarily. They can even detain lawyers without waiving their immunity. So during this time, from 2010 and onwards, the experience was only about protecting [people]. There was no active war in Sudan, that was only in the marginalised communities and we immediately shifted to work with marginalised communities around Darfur, eastern Sudan, and northern Sudan. We also supported the people who came back as migrants from South Sudan. Working in this area, something always comes up that we are supposed to help protect. So we used a system called strategic litigation in order to test the system and the laws and to protect rights when it is possible. CJLPA: Can you explain more about how strategic litigation functions? You also mentioned that there was an organisation that you used to work with in London—what specific issues did you work with? MA: The strategic litigation, as I mentioned, has some obstacles connected to domestic litigation itself. For example the law of evidence has issues, the criminal procedures law has a lot of issues, and the criminal code has a lot of issues. The aforementioned issues are contradicting with international human rights standards, as well as the standard for human rights in the African region by the African Union and other regional institutions. There are challenges which are connected to laws, which are connected to institutions. So we use strategic litigation to test the institution itself. Then when we go about the case, we take it to the media. We can take that case internationally or regionally when we face like real challenges using the domestic courts. Doing that, [my colleagues and I] actually managed to push for legal amendments and to protect rights for activists and individuals. We mainly used strategic litigation at that time—I was working with an organisation called Redress Trust and with others as well. CJLPA: Is there any specific case or scenario where you used these strategies through which you could paint a practical picture? MA: Yes, I am just going to give an example to bring us back to the current situation [in Sudan]. The Law of Evidence in Sudan has many challenges regarding accepting visual evidence such as a video or a picture. Using strategic litigation, we try to push for [visual evidence] to be accepted. They were rejected, and then when we went to the Court of Appeal it was accepted. Actually, in one case, we took the case to the African [Court of] Human Rights, the African Commission. We do that in order to show that even if the system fails you can take another step, or can tackle the same matter from another angle. So this is one case—and actually, in a case, the visual evidence was accepted by the court itself and the case was successful. CJLPA: What challenges did you encounter with your work? Through all of these cases and working with the NGOs in Sudan, how have your experiences influenced your approach to human rights issues? MA: Sudan was under the ruling of Islamic government for about 30 years, which has a lot of implications for the system. [This includes] the practices of lawyers and judges—the entire system. Working in that area, we always try to connect with local, regional, and international organisations in order to have all our experiences channel together in pursuit of justice and human rights. Working towards that we managed to build a very clear channel of international lawyers who are involved with different kinds of law and like international legal groups. We are [helping] local lawyers and practitioners to benefit from the support of international experts and we can also use international justice venues. We have different kinds of cases and now we have many cases pending at different levels regionally and internationally. So what we are trying to do is to help more lawyers to be able to use these systems in order to bring justice for the people. The main challenge is, for a district attorney’s practitioners for example, having the knowledge to navigate international mechanisms, for one, and secondly having the connections and the resources to do so. [Lack of] resources is actually one of the main challenges in pursuing a case internationally, because [the cases] take a very, very long time, even up to ten years or more. The case before the ICC has now gone on for more than 18 years. This shows exactly how pursuing cases in different types of jurisdiction outside of one’s country can be challenging. The victims are waiting for justice for so long. Even for practitioners, it is going to take a lot of resources to be able to do this. There are not very many places where you can find funding for cases from an institution or an individual because it takes a long time and it is so difficult to have a clear timeframe. CJLPA: We can now go to the crux of the matter, the ongoing conflict in Sudan. As you said earlier, Sudan has had historical cycles of conflict particularly from the second Sudanese Civil War and the first Darfur conflict. What do you believe are the root causes that perpetuate violence in these situations? MA: Speaking of the conflict in the region, and just coming back to Sudan and the recent war in Darfur, Sudan has never had a continual peace for more than ten years over the last 70 years. So from the Independence Days [in 1956] it has been in this circle continuously. There was only one break after the Addis Ababa Agreement of 1972, which ended in 1983. The root causes of all these conflicts are never dealt with. I think some of that is inherited from the old regimes historically in Sudan and mainly because of the [significant] marginalisation and injustice that has happened over [Sudan’s] history. There are also issues with democracy and inclusion, and I think that all of those issues are causing these wars and encouraging people to participate in wars. In the region, [Sudan] has the longest history of internal conflict. CJLPA: You mentioned the Addis Ababa Agreement. What did this agreement entail? I ask this especially because later we will cover issues to do with peace and justice. MA: When we speak about peace and justice, historically Sudanese leaders dealt with peace and justice not as international law defines it or as an international debate. I think in Sudan, leaders have always dealt with peace and justice as two separate things. They consider peace as stopping the war, which does not really mean that there is peace. But they are referring to stopping the guns and pursuing wholly the peace agreement. All of the peace agreements [that have taken place] in Sudan’s history were only meant to stop the guns, and actually not with a strategy, but just dealing with [the problem] for now. I think that because of this people are never satisfied. Going back to the Addis Ababa Agreement, it was a peace agreement in 1972, one of the peace agreements that tried to speak on the issue of inclusive peace. But both parties at the time, the government and the rebel groups, did not consider [handling the agreement] from a place of trust. The government and the rebel groups at that time did not actually have the will to implement the agreement, even withstanding the issues that the agreement itself has. Regarding other peace agreements in Sudan, they always speak about stopping the guns but they never pursue the issue of justice. Justice then always remains an issue throughout the peace agreements and throughout [our] history. CJLPA: In your opinion, coupled with local conflict, how has international interference affected the ongoing conflict in Sudan, both now and in the past? What role do international actors play in promoting enduring justice in Sudan? MA: International institutions—I can put them in two boxes, with the diplomats on one side and the UN agencies on the other side. I do not really want to speak here about the regional mechanisms because they never played a great role. The only role that was played regionally was during the Addis Ababa Agreement and the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA). In those two instances there were major roles played [by regional powers]. Even though both of [the agreements] were led by international actors and not the regional powers, they were hosted in the region. So the international actors always played with Sudan, exactly like I spoke about with the local actors. They always say ‘let’s stop the guns for now’. Even now, efforts taken with current wars always deal with [the problem] as ‘let’s stop the war for now’. One example is the efforts led by the US and Saudi Arabia in Jeddah which are entirely about having a ceasefire, not having a lasting peace, but just having a ceasefire and a humanitarian corridor that can help humanitarian support to move around. We cannot deal with the current war [that way], excluding all the civilians and just dealing with the warring parties. That is one issue. If we look back into all the peace agreements done in Sudan’s history, they all came from that angle, dealing with both warring parties but not including the civilians and affected communities. CJLPA: Besides the peace agreements, the international community and state actors have been accused of hindering justice in Sudan. Can you shed more light on this? MA: Sure. So the warring parties are backed by some states, in the region or elsewhere. And I believe there is very clear evidence of accusing one state or another. At some of the meetings that were held recently, both warring parties in Sudan were accusing states of supporting the other [warring party]. Especially the military in Sudan, they are always accusing states. This causes some issues with the legal powers that are accused of supporting one party. As an example, the military, which is the Sudanese Armed Forces, have accused some regional states, namely Kenya. One of the spokespersons of the military spoke about when William Ruto was proposing to send troops to protect civilians and to ensure that the humanitarian corridors could deliver humanitarian aid. One of the military leaders came out and accused William Ruto of wanting to occupy [Sudan] and he said, ‘you have to bring your forces and come to fight’. That is actually one of the leaders of the military. That speech made it very difficult for Kenya—I am not saying I am with or against that initiative, but it made it very difficult for Kenya to continue that initiative. During another event, the same leader [who accused William Ruto] came out last week and accused the UAE of supporting the Rapid Support Forces (RSF). That caused a lot of diplomatic tension between the de-facto government of Sudan now and the Emirates. Many people accuse Egypt. They have collected evidence that Egypt is supporting SAF [the Sudanese Armed Forces]. Just looking at all these scenarios—like this country is supporting this side, that country is supporting that side—makes brokering peace in the current situation very difficult because all these regional powers have a great role to play. For example, the Emirates now have a very good relationship with the RSF, Egypt has a very good relationship with the SAF. If they are not brought to the table to stop supporting one side or another… Of course, this war would not have continued to this day if the regional powers were not supporting the warring parties, because that is how they get weapons. That is how they receive support. I think that how the war has lasted for this long, and it is going to continue if that situation continues, and if the international powers are not going to hold regional powers accountable for their support. CJLPA: You previously mentioned the Comprehensive Peace Agreement that ended the war between Sudan and what is now South Sudan in 2005. What do you consider having been so vital in the CPA, so that it stopped the war? Maybe in all of this conflict, including the current conflict, something is not being understood that can be borrowed from the CPA. MA: So actually mentioning the CPA in this context here is hinting at something scary, because the CPA led to the country splitting into two countries. That is something really negative. I am very supportive of the South to have their state because they have a very long history and were being marginalised. There was a lack of inclusivity. This is something we have to consider that like this, this is your choice after the referendum, which is supposed to be guaranteed and I am very in support of that. But during the CPA, the warring parties at the time and the international community all came together to stop the war and to include the referendum, in order to help the South Sudanese, by that definition, to have access to a referendum. I think that the peace agreement did not have enough emphasis on justice. It was only about the stopping of the guns. To be honest with you, I do not think that is a good example to be used. Because we have the Abuja Agreement and the Doha Agreement as well—[during none of these agreements] did the warring parties consider it important to implement something that could be followed, not only to stop the guns but to have a lasting peace and to proceed through justice. And none of these peace agreements, including the CPA, have a detailed chapter where warring parties have [realistic] mechanisms for justice. So I think it is better not to borrow from the CPA, but rather the Sudanese people should sit together and learn from the local initiatives. Include all the civilians, include the leaders, include everyone who has felt marginalised throughout history, and sit together and have lasting peace by including everyone. But I think that if we have learned something from all of that history, it is that history always repeats itself by having another war. CJLPA: The army has been accused since Sudanese independence of usurping power and every time Sudan is at the brink of achieving democracy and good governance it sabotages such efforts. How do you see the historical role of the army in Sudan shaping the current challenges in establishing a civilian-led government? MA: Even before the Muslim Brotherhood came to power in the last century, the army was always formed. It has a lot of military acts that make it very difficult for people from all over the country to see themselves in them, and [to see the army as] as representing them. This is one thing. Secondly the army is very politicised, the army has always participated in the political game in Sudanese history. And that has always kept the leaders afraid of the army, and then they create their own militias. If we speak about the RSF—according to all the legal definitions that I agree with, I don’t believe that the RSF is a militia, because it was created according to local laws and the same army approved those laws. They have different militias. They had the Popular Defence Forces in the past, and they have different kinds of militias and the government was very proud of having them. So I think the army as an institution is always participating in political games and creating militias that can make them always ready to sabotage democracy. They are always ready to make the way to democracy very difficult. CJLPA: What steps can be taken to ensure genuine and smooth transition from military to civilian rule, especially given the historical dominance of the military? MA: Looking at the situation in Khartoum, it is taken over by RSF, half of Omdurman is taken over by RSF, the entire region of Darfur is now almost controlled by RSF, and the military moves to other places. So I think actually looking at this picture, just makes it so difficult now to pursue peace without looking at how to deal with a militia, with RSF and the allying militias. It makes it very difficult to look at moving forward for achieving a future for Sudan without looking at this, the armies and how they got into conflict. Now, in Darfur, I am not sure if the people in Geneina agree that they wanted to be under the rule of RSF. That is something very frustrating that we are looking at, and we do not understand how people are going to look at the future of Sudan without having the presence of the army. I think the only thing to have for future Sudan is a new matrix for the army. To go back to the barracks, just as the Sudanese revolution was calling for, and to take away and to dismantle all the militias. I think that is the only way to secure a national army without interfering in politics, which can always bring coups and bring an end to democracy. CJLPA: Since we are speaking about the RSF and the SAF, maybe you can shed more light on the agreement that they had in 2021 and issues to do with the sovereign consult that has brought us to where we are today, on the transition. MA: The framework agreement that was brokered by the unit arms was one of the sure mistakes done in our history. They saw how RSF had started to recruit some civilians to join their camp. SAF, which is the military, started to recruit other civilians. The RSF was very powerful at that time, and it became powerful because of the military itself, and the facilitation and the support, and the goal, the control over history. For the past ten years, the RSF has had access to all the camps, the mining areas, and that made it easy for them to control more. So the framework agreement, the mistake that was done by the unit arms, was meant to force peace no matter what. I am not saying that the unit arms bear all the responsibility by themselves, but they played a great role in that process, when they did not really do a full assessment to understand what would happen if they pushed so hard to have an agreement only with the RSF. I think that was supposed to be well-assessed by the unit arms, but was really mishandled by them. That brought this conflict forward. When they saw the RSF had started to become a rebel group and disobey the military, during that time, they were supposed to backup and come back to see how they can negotiate around this and urge the RSF not to continue forward with this and enter into confrontation. I think all of these aspects, if they had been considered by unit arms and other forces, if they had been really monitored at that time, we would not be in this situation now. Because there were a lot of ways to prevent this war if followed the right way, and not just looking for any peace. CJLPA: Reflecting on what you have said regarding ways to prevent the current war and what you have termed the transitional process, and all the issues pertaining to the sovereign council—constitutionally and institutionally, what reforms do you believe would contribute to creating a more inclusive, democratic governance within Sudan? MA: The constitution document itself is very weak by nature and the Sovereign Council amended it without including the civilians. They made the RSF leader into the deputy of the Sovereign Council, this was done unilaterally by the head of the army, Abdel Fattah al-Burhan. The Sudanese people are supposed to start looking at the history and all the mistakes that have been made, and include all of the local mechanisms for peace and justice in order to have an inclusive process for justice and for the future. Because without having a clear constitution in which everyone feels represented, there is no way to have a lasting peace. I do not think the current or previous constitution documents are the best draft. There are many lessons that can be learned from the history of Sudan. There are some constitutions where, if we look at them, there are lessons to be learned. That can help to pave the way for an inclusive document where people can look at it and all feel included, and that they believe can take Sudan to the next step. CJLPA: In terms of institutional reforms, do you think having a civilian leader without proper institutions weakens their role? Is this why the military or the militants get their way? MA: I think there are some examples that we can look at. They used to have some circles of instability. But then when they have the Constitution protecting against like—one of the basic things, like now, Abdelaziz al-Hilu and the SPLM [Sudan People’s Liberation Movement] North are fighting for basic rights, and they are never recognised. It is not about documents, it is about the will. If the Sudanese people do not have the will to have lasting peace and to have democracy, even if we bring any institution from anywhere it is not going to help. Forcing people to believe that the constitution of Sudan is supposed to be like an Islamic government, that does not help. Even during the civilian government, the Muslim Brotherhood were able to make a campaign against the leaders, where they say ‘with the measurement of Islamic ruling, this is wrong’. They call them kafirs, and they call them infidels. And that makes it so difficult. The will is number one and then the documents and all of that can come later—but I think we need to look into helping people to become unified. Anything can come later, but the documents cannot be implemented, even if there is a good document, if there is no human will. I guess that is something we have to look at now. CJLPA: Our next question is regarding the 2019 revolution and the subsequent events within Sudan. How do you view the transitional period that came after? It has been framed by some as a missed opportunity for achieving accountability and justice—do you agree with this perspective? MA: Of course, I agree with that. And I add that the Sudanese youth, and men and women, they sacrificed a lot in order to have the revolution achieve its goals, or at least to remove the Muslim Brotherhood leaders. But the problem happened because of the selfish politicians. They do not have vision, that is why they came and—to be honest with you—they hijacked the revolution itself. They sought to negotiate again with the military and they [reopened] the door for the military to come back and participate in politics. The three slogans of revolution—freedom, peace, and justice—none of [them] were part of the agenda for those civilians who came and hijacked the revolution. I [use the word] ‘hijacked’ because they did not care about freedom, peace, and justice at all. When they created their first government, it was weak. They did not care about training. The people who came and joined, like the officers, did not train. They did not provide basic training for governance. Someone may have had no experience at all, and they were are appointed to governance. The government becomes something useless. Ministers were appointed where it was their first job in their life, to be a minister. After that, nobody cared about legal reform, nobody cared really about institutional reform. These people hijacked the revolution, they betrayed the streets. CJLPA: Given what you have just said, if you were to look at an effective transitional justice mechanism in Sudan—and we can even put it in the context of the post-2019 setting—how do you think, considering all of the complexities and the situation that did happen, that [transitional justice] could have been done better or actually could have been made effective? MA: First of all, I think they have to let the youth create their own parliament, which was prevented from the first days. They have to initiate the institutions—there was supposed to be an institution for a peace, an institution for transitional justice, and an institution for reconciliation—but nobody cared about them. The first thing to be done is the Parliament, which is supposed to be led by youth, women and men. Also, to initiate institutions that can build a foundation for work around justice, transitional justice, reconciliation, because it was never dealt with. Those three things are the main things that can put Sudan in a constant position to have another war if not dealt with from the beginning. We need to include—not to exclude—the youth who led the streets. They were the people who were supposed to protect democracy at that time, to protect the revolution at that time, but they were excluded. And there should be trust—the people who hijacked the authority, they were supposed to trust the youth and to report to them when they are blocked by the military, they were supposed to come back to the youth. I think all of those were not met and I think those are the main things that led to this current situation. Because at the end of 2023, when the unit arms were leading negotiation between like both warring parties in order like to have the framework agreement dealt with by both parties led by sovereign RSF, that is exactly how they put back the ball back in the military’s court. CJLPA: Could you elaborate a bit on how a youth-led movement could effectively result in an intersectional transitional justice movement? So again, looking at social justice, environmental justice, how would a youth-led movement in particular do well with these different forms of justice? MA: We saw during the revolution that when the youth really managed to control a certain area, it was like an inclusive, small Sudan where everyone sees themselves there. Yeah, there are some issues here and there because of the inherited history and things. But I think that during my entire life, the only small Sudan that I saw had vision, or a way to go forward. I think that was like the second time. If a youth are given a chance to lead, like they did successfully with the revolution during 2019… We did an oral history project in collaboration with George Mason University where we collected and included more than 120 interviews, in which we asked people what peace means to them, about justice and accountability, those basic questions. And when we asked these people those questions, and we completed the analysis with experts, I believe it was the only well-analysed document given out during the discussion around transitional justice in Sudan. I think that can tell us about the gap—there is no way that there is enough analysis. During that time, we gave out this document with all these views about what we see in that area, what peace and justice mean for people in from different places in Sudan. I think that can show exactly where the gap is, and can tell exactly that if the youth are given a chance to lead they are going to make it so that the small Sudan can grow to become like the bigger Sudan, and everyone can have their dreams met. CJLPA: How do you see small Sudan being scaled up to big Sudan? What do you think that the process would be for this grassroots initiative to become bigger? MA: The historic election, we saw the first obstacle in front of the youth movement is put by people who call themselves the (National) Democratic Alliance. Political parties are always scared of having anything led by youth and that is really something we saw. Youth are able to look into the future, because they have the dream. I think they have the vision, and they feel they are part of the future too. I think youth can be inclusive. Now for example, in the small institutions that were led by youth, we see the inclusivity, we see the justice, we see the vision, and we feel like everyone is really participating. Everyone feels that that they belong there. I think that if youth are given the chance to lead, which has never happened in Sudan, that they are going to be able to build the Sudan where everyone believes that they belong. With just what basic definitions are given to people, I think that can be the chance to rebuild Sudan with justice, with some institutions that research. There is a huge gap with regard to research on environmental harm. Nobody cares about the mining activities that were led by the old regimes. I think youth can bring research there that can help to stop all of these activities that can harm the environment, and in turn, can harm the future. I think they can lead the democracy to be achieved in Sudan. CJLPA: There are different stakeholders in the community: the media, the communities themselves, and institutions of learning. In what ways, even for policymakers, can they affect justice, in what ways can we affect the transitional justice? MA: In, Sudan they have traditional ways of dealing with justice. For example, in Darfur, in the Nuba Mountains, in in eastern Sudan, in northern Sudan, in the centre, they all have a sort of social reconciliation, where tribal leaders sit together and present a form of justice that can leave everyone feeling satisfied. One could ask the question of why would that be effective, for example, stopping the war in Darfur, because there is no institution to take that further. If the communities are ready to reconcile among themselves, if there is a state that can make that achievable, that can make the record of that—but that is not happening. So they can have a reconciliation or can have negotiations today around any matter that happens, but there is no support for mistakes—that cannot hold itself up, it is going to fall. Speaking about the future of justice and future transitional justice, transitional justice itself is targeted by some politicians in Sudan who say transitional justice is a way of life that supports impunity, which is incorrect. That has actually led some people to advocate for justice being achieved only by the ICC, which is also a big mistake. It cannot achieve that—the ICC can only look at one case, only try the leaders, only try certain crimes—but there is a lot going on here, this is an entire country in chaos. I think that saying that only the ICC can deal with everything is a huge mistake. Academics need to write a lot in this area in order to clarify for local people how justice can be achieved, and that the ICC is not the only thing that can achieve justice. One quote I heard from the ICC prosecutor was that ‘justice does not die within the premises of the ICC’. I think that is a very clear way of speaking about justice. Scholars, academics, all the institutions, and the media can help to clarify that justice really is a process. It is not only something that can be achieved within one institution. And transitional justice is one of the important ways of dealing with accountability when an entire country is in a civil war. In summary, it is important to look for justice as a process. Transitional justice is one of one of the cornerstones for that, especially since you cannot take everyone to court. Some of those [situations] are supposed to be dealt with according to the communities, and some supposed to be taken to the local courts. Building local institutions is very important and key and cornerstone for achieving justice too. So all these efforts, if they are done together, can help achieve justice. That is going to be the first step in a lasting process for justice and peace. That can happen only when we have transitional justice, that everyone feels satisfied. CJLPA: It is not lost on us that after all of our discussion about how the previous transitional justice movement did not have the effect it should have, you yourself have had to make personal sacrifices as a result of your involvement. It is astounding for all these years, you have been able to keep going see this as a process, a light at the end of the tunnel. What keeps you motivated to continue doing the work that you do? MA: I think that the dream to have a just Sudan is something always keeping me committed to this work. In fact, last year more than six months before the war, I was doing research with an institution pursuing studies for anthropology and I was working on the question of why people participate in a war. That was actually more than eight months before the war. The thing is, to see people suffering in Darfur, suffering in Khartoum, suffering in eastern Sudan, now in northern Sudan, and everywhere—that requires anyone to be committed, if not to achieve justice entirely, but just like to participate in that process. Even if it is with research, with one case, or even with educating one person. That is something really important that we have to take into consideration all the time. For me personally, I believe justice can happen and is going to happen sooner or later. That is something I am always committed to, participating in any process available: supporting the ICC, supporting any regional mechanism, supporting domestic institutions, helping local lawyers or local institutions to create records, or even doing interviews with elders or with communities for data collection. One of our goals is to achieve justice, to participate in this process and to do advocacy from Sudan. But I think that one of the goals we need to have is to create a record for the future. If we have that record for the future, people are going to see that and understand what has happened through history—and I think they will not repeat it again. All of this can really pile up, and lead us to not sleep until we see justice achieved. I think that everyone who has committed a crime should face justice through local courts, through universal jurisdiction, or through any kind of procedure. Justice is a must and it is going to happen sooner or later. This interview was conducted by Solomon Njombai and Alexandra Marcy Hall, Legal Researchers at CJLPA. Solomon, an Advocate of the High Court of Kenya, holds a Master of Arts degree in International Relations and an LL.M in Energy Law. His primary focus lies in comprehending how energy intertwines with global issues and how it drives interactions between states on a global scale. Alexandra is a human rights professional who has practised and researched extensively in North Africa and Europe. She currently works in advocacy for asylum seekers, refugees, and migrants living in London through an international humanitarian organisation.

Karl Heinz Bohrer’s A Little Pleasure in Decline. Essays on Britain.[1] My friend Karl Heinz Bohrer died on 4 August 2021. He was seen as Germany’s leading literary critic, a man both brilliant in perception and prodigious in industry, whose 29 books examine the German classical tradition with reference to the ancient writers whom Karl Heinz had known from his humanist education in Germany. He had polished up a last book shortly before he died which has now been published posthumously.[2] Karl Heinz wrote in German and very little is available in English. Just one of his books has been translated: Suddenness, in 1994.[3] But Karl Heinz lived a large part of his life outside Germany—it was almost as if his own country was ‘too small a bound’. When he was Professor of Modern German Literature at Bielefeld, he lived in Paris with his second wife Undine Grünter and commuted to the Ruhr to deliver his lectures. For three separate periods of his life he indulged his passion for Britain. The first was a short stay, but from 1968 onwards he returned again and again. After he stepped down as literary editor of the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung or ‘FAZ’ in 1974, he ended up being the paper’s cultural correspondent in Britain for the rest of the decade. Finally, he was based in London for the last two decades of his life after marrying Angela Bielenberg, née Gräfin von der Schulenburg. That first short stay was in 1953 and is described in Karl Heinz’s first volume of autobiography Granatsplitter (‘Shrapnel’),[4] as indeed is his immediate post-war fascination with all things British. He was born in Cologne on 26 September 1932 and was twelve when the war ended. On his mother’s side he had Irish roots, which might have made him inclined to like the British soldiers who occupied the Rhineland. He developed a fondness for white bread and tinned sardines and, more importantly, his grandfather took him to see British films. Laurence Olivier’s Henry V of 1944 made a big impression on him. But another influence beckoned when he was sent from his humanist ‘Gymnasium’ or grammar school to a liberal boarding school in the Black Forest in the French Zone. There, he became aware of French cinema and existentialist philosophy. He was keen on drama at school, and even studied it briefly at University in Cologne before migrating to a more conventional study of German at Göttingen and Heidelberg, where he took his doctorate. Karl Heinz taught German briefly in Sweden, but his early years were spent in cultural journalism rather than academic life, firstly on the cultural pages of Die Welt in Hamburg and later in Frankfurt am Main, where he took on the most important critical role in Germany as the Literary Editor of the FAZ in 1968. In 1974, he handed over the reins to the redoubtable Marcel Reich-Ranicki. He submitted his second doctorate or ‘Habilitation’ on Ernst Jünger in 1977 and was appointed to the University of Bielefeld, where he was Professor of Modern German Literature from 1982 to 1987. This reversion to academic life had an ulterior motive: he had been promised the editorship of the intellectual monthly Merkur in succession to Hans Schwab-Felisch, but the editor needed to be a chair-holding professor. He was appointed to the post in 1984, standing down in 2011.[5] Siren-like, England continued to beckon from across the North Sea. Karl Heinz’s daughter Beatrice told me of arriving in Dover with her father, who informed her she was going to live in a ‘great country’. The Bohrers descended at an important moment in British post-war history, and, as it so happens, it is one that I also remember well, as it represented the period between my leaving school and leaving university. Britain was still locked in its post-war insularity. We had joined the Common Market on 1 January 1973, but there was no noticeable change in the way we lived our lives. In 1975 we had our first ever national referendum when elements on the right and left attempted to reverse the decision taken by Edward Heath’s government two years before. The word ‘sovereignty’ was on all lips. Europeans—foreigners—apparently didn’t understand the joys of sovereignty. Karl Heinz got to know a very different world to post-war West Germany. Middle and upper-class Britain was fiercely white, Anglican, and profoundly snobbish. Society was small and exclusive. I was related to no one and came from an obscure if independent school. In order to make sure little Johnny or Charlie was in safe hands, my Oxford friends’ parents (like the friends themselves) would extract the following details within the first ten minutes of conversation: name of school, religion, father’s occupation (and possibly how much he earned), and whether you were related to anyone grand or famous. As a Catholic from a single-parent household whose mother struggled as a painter and art-teacher I was not promising, but Catholics were nonetheless better than Baptists or Unitarians. Like Jews there were a few grand ones, although my Irish name meant there was little chance of associating me with the Brideshead set. Countless hapless undergraduates put on plummy accents or pretended to have gone to more famous schools than the ones they actually attended. In later life, they improved their CVs by saying they had gone to better-known colleges or universities. This cosy, exclusive world was cracking up in the face of economic and social crisis. Most of the members of my still single-sex college were from state schools, but the public schoolboys, above all the ‘top-ten’ public schoolboys, were much louder, so that you could be forgiven for not noticing the others. Karl Heinz’s love for Britain did not silence his critical voice. In 1975, the year I went up, he noted the ‘decrepit factories, the shrinking industrial production, the irrational labour models, the archaic structure of the unions, the pitiful understanding of British managers for the needs of foreign markets, their tendency to invest abroad, but not at home’. He wasn’t beating a drum, but Germans did better work, and on time. ‘The words “efficiency” and “plan” are unknown to British ears […] Rationalising is control and control is unacceptable. The more you know that you are swimming against the tide the more enjoyable it seems to push these new possibilities to one side’.[6] It was a decline that had started in the 1890s, when Britain had failed to keep up with Germany and the US. He quoted Arthur Koestler, who recognised this national suicide. It was the time when many British satirical films, from I’m Alright Jack to Heavens Above, sent up the malaise that affected so many areas of British life. Not for nothing did many of these satires revolve around strikes. In October 1977, Karl Heinz focussed on New Statesman editor Paul Johnson’s decision to leave the Labour Party after twenty-four years of membership. The cause was Tony Benn—then still mostly referred to as Anthony Wedgewood-Benn—who had fought British membership of the Common Market and was the unions’ champion. This need to put trade union collectivism before all else had proved the last straw for Johnson: ‘Johnson must now write letters to the workers saying that the health of a single apprentice is more important than the possibility of literary self-expression’.[7] For Karl Heinz, the English disease was ‘alienation from the future’.[8] He travelled to Manchester, a city redolent of ‘Manchester economics’, the ‘Manchester’ Guardian, Marx and Engels. The city had its attractions: ‘Without style, yet stylish; without beauty, yet beautiful’.[9] The famous mills had been turned into shopping centres. In November 1971, he was in Yorkshire in the ‘filthy triangle’[10] enclosed by Leeds, Pontefract, and Normanton. The industrial landscape was dying. He found no job prospects for the young people at the local grammar school. It wasn’t only Manchester and Leeds. He visited Highgate Cemetery, pausing to pour scorn on the ugly, kitschig monument to Karl Marx. Marx’s disciples had attached love letters to its plinth: ‘The man is in no way dead. He lives. They speak to him constantly’.[11] Karl Heinz was more interested in the part of the cemetery that occupies the higher ground on the other side of the road. This part was closed to visitors (fifty years on it is only open for guided tours). It was overgrown and crumbling, reminding him of an exotic rainforest. The economic crisis meant that the cemetery could not afford gardeners or maintenance: ‘Gothic horror is literally present everywhere, as under every cubic metre dead Victorians are rotting’.[12] In one spot he saw the skull of an MP in a broken coffin. Grave robbers had helped themselves to objects from the newspaper baron Julius Beer’s grave. There was a plan to replace the western part of the cemetery by tower blocks, shrouding the imperial dead. Karl Heinz had revelled in the romantic aspect of Highgate Cemetery. He was most at home writing about literature, theatre, and art. He was a fully signed-up aesthete possessing a collection of dashing hats. He celebrated the centenary of Liberty’s in Regent Street in 1975, at the same time as Biba in Kensington High Street, a magnet for us teenagers in the early seventies, hit skid row. Liberty’s had been the champion of ‘arts & crafts’ in the late nineteenth century; proper design was a central tenet of Ruskin’s aesthetic teaching. In London, Karl Heinz discovered Blake and the Pre-Raphaelites only then becoming fashionable in Britain. He saw the symbolism of Blake as something that prefigured the writings of his beloved Baudelaire. In January 1971 (before he took up residence in London), Karl Heinz applied his German mind to the ramifications of Pre-Raphaelitism: the Nazarenes, Novalis, and Stefan George. The Pre-Raphaelites were reacting against Manchester. Inspired by Ruskin, the soul was ‘the adversary of society’.[13] As champions of aestheticism, Beardsley and Wilde were often invoked. Aestheticism was at the heart of the beauty of sudden ideas, which inspired Karl Heinz’s literary study, Suddenness (published in English in 1994).[14] Wilde lived a double-life. He also hankered after the demimonde, a seedy existence in anonymous hotel rooms. In this context, Karl Heinz invokes Theodor Fontane, who was a journalist for the Vossische Zeitung in London from 1856 to 1858, as he metamorphosed from pharmacist to Prussia’s greatest novelist. Fontane learned what was to become the foundation stone of the gutter press in late nineteenth century Britain: that the population loved a good murder above all else, and that Victorian London served them well—people had a tendency to disappear, leaving only the odd limb to remember them by. Certain institutions got the thumbs up. The theatre, for example, generally thrilled. The earliest article in the collection dates from November 1968 and was written in the course of his second ever visit to England. He saw the film Blow Up (1966), the very essence of ‘Swinging London’ and one of three David Hemmings films mentioned. Another was the Charge of the Light Brigade, with its debunking of empire and use of animation – another period piece. Blow Up caused him to reminisce about 1953, and seeing John Gielgud, Richard Burton, John Neville, and Michael Redgrave on stage at the Old Vic. It was another age: ‘There was no John Osborne then, and why? Young men did not need to be angry yet because they could remember food rationing from the difficult time when Britain’s fighter pilots had not yet become the legend about whom Churchill had said that it was rare for so many to have owed so much to so few’.[15] In 1976, he saw Terry Hands’ Henry V cycle at Stratford with Alan Howard as Hal. Karl Heinz remembered Olivier, whom he had met briefly at a party in Drayton Gardens in the autumn of 1953 and where he told the actor ‘I like you very much’, something which Olivier naturally appreciated.[16] He approved of this new, less nationalistic and propagandistic approach to Olivier’s wartime performance. There was no longer a need for propaganda, but he recognised ‘England’s love-affair with itself’ for all that.[17] Oh What a Lovely War was another manifestation of the British obsession with war, which Karl Heinz contrasted with the rather more responsible approach adopted by middle-class Germans. Of course it was an anti-war play and later film, where the devil came on dressed in military uniform. History was popular in Britain and ‘the present was always stamped with the past’.[18] The film once again showed the usual Britons, dominated by arts graduates from Oxford and Cambridge who were proud of their ignorance when it came to science. There were German plays to see too. Karl Heinz went to Manchester in 1976 to watch the first ever British production of Kleist’s Prince of Homburg, with Tom Courtenay in the title role.[19] Karl Heinz also had an eye for the BBC. In April 1977 he listed some of the series that were then popular: The Avengers, The Forsyte Saga, The Six Wives of Henry VIII, Upstairs, Downstairs (forerunner to Downton Abbey). The BBC had not declined like other British institutions over the past thirty years. ‘The television drug can taste better nowhere else than England’, and yet, like everyone else in the country, the BBC had an obsession with the Second World War.[20] He cited Dad’s Army in particular. It is an obsession that Britain retains, even when few obsessives can actually remember why and when it occurred and who won it (besides Britain). On the eve of the 1975 referendum, Karl Heinz had cause to write once more about British xenophobia. He was inspired by a television series about Colditz. Good-looking, aristocratic British officers ran rings around ugly Germans. Politicians like Hans-Dietrich Genscher, Helmut Kohl, and Franz-Josef Strauss supplied the image of the ridiculous German. The British depicted their own in a more flattering light: ‘England is a narcissus who will never grow tired of looking at himself in the mirror’.[21] On the other hand, German ugliness, philistinism, and provincialism would rouse Karl Heinz throughout his life. He took pot-shots at Germany from London and Paris. Heine is the obvious model. He was nonetheless passionate in his defence of the men of 20 July 1944, and his later marriage to one of the daughters of Fritz-Dietlof Graf von der Schulenburg can only have added new vim to this view. Films such as Massacre in Rome (1975), with its fictionalised focus on the killings in the Ardeatine Caves, were a mixed blessing. In Britain, where ‘talking about Hitler was the same as talking about the Germans’, the 20 July was dismissed as ‘a false purge in the interests of a national cover-up’.[22] It is an attitude that has failed to go away, even now when we know so much more about the motives of the men and women from all walks of life who conspired to eliminate Hitler. Only three years ago both Karl Heinz and I reacted to a debunking book on Stauffenberg and a vilification of the same that appeared in the letters page of the Spectator. The campaign to remain in the Common Market came to a head at the moment of the 1975 Cup Final when two London teams—West Ham and Fulham—faced one another on the pitch. Karl Heinz juxtaposes the two events. Edward Heath and Roy Jenkins were the champions of the remain lobby then, and held their final rally in Trafalgar Square. In the far corner were Tony Benn and Michael Foot. ‘How can we compare our sovereignty with that of people who have never possessed any: we are English’.[23] There were rumblings from hoi polloi much as there had been in the fifties, at the time of the Angry Young Men. Punk was ‘the last stage of British nihilism, the decline into youth anarchy’.[24] He seized on the message of hatred embodied in the music of the Sex Pistols, the early works of Derek Jarman, the film of Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange, and Nigel Williams’ play Class Enemy at the Royal Court. Karl Heinz later wrote a literary study of Dionysus,[25] and something of his interest in the Dionysiac must have fed his enthusiasm for the 1977 Notting Hill Carnival, where a small riot marred an otherwise admirable effusion of black culture; but it also provided him with a lead into the growing unease in Britain when it came to its black ghettoes, and the dark roles played by Enoch Powell and the National Front leader John Tyndall. Reading the book, you often feel Karl Heinz might have made an excellent playwright himself, or indeed a novelist. In a long essay on the Queen’s Silver Jubilee, he writes with wry, funny observations about being a German caught up in all the forced jollity of a patriotic English street party.[26] I recall the occasion, which I spent at a street party in Oxford. The snobbery and superciliousness of his neighbours is instantly recognisable. Karl Heinz occasionally took up a political assignment when writing for Merkur. In 1976, using connections he had from the ‘Preußen-Girls’ – his name for the Schulenburg sisters – he went to Northern Ireland during the Troubles. He met Gerry Fitt and other ‘luminaries’ of the time and was horrified by Belfast: ‘the dingiest backyard in Britain (sic)’.[27] The Europa Hotel in Belfast had been wrecked many times by bombs. Karl Heinz found its brutalist allures ‘frightful’. He dismissed Heinrich Böll’s romantic evocation of Ireland, something which I had eagerly purchased after I met the great man in Cologne in 1971.[28] As a journalist, Karl Heinz watched the battle in 1977 that saw the end of the Evening News and the triumph of its rival the Evening Standard. The collection ends with an article from December 1978 on the closure of The Times, brought down by the unions that had dominated his time in Britain, and which were to be gelded by the new Conservative government of Mrs Thatcher. Mrs Thatcher is not explored in this book. Britain was to change very quickly under her rule. The small, incestuous world that was British society was soon to become less white, less Anglican, and less dominated by public schools, Oxford, and Cambridge. It was also (for a time at least) much more open to Europe. Karl Heinz loved Britain and he had plenty of friends here. The last twenty years of his life is partly described by his second volume of autobiography Jetzt (‘Now’), but formally Britain hardly acknowledged his existence.[29] When I tried to interest the Guardian in his obituary, they replied that the subject was ‘not for their readership’. For much of the time in that last period he was here he taught a semester at Stanford on Hölderlin, but I am not aware of any similar interaction with any British university. It would be an understatement to say Karl Heinz was unhappy at the result of the second referendum on Europe. At the end of his life he lost his longstanding faith in Britain and wanted to move to Berlin. Giles MacDonogh Giles MacDonogh FRHistS is a historian of Germany and author of fifteen books. These include biographies of Frederick the Great and Kaiser William II and histories of Prussia and Berlin. He is known for his best selling history of post-war Germany After the Reich (John Murray 2007). His latest book is On Germany (Hurst 2018). [1] Karl Heinz Bohrer, Ein bißchen Lust am Untergang. Englische Ansichten (Carl Hanser Verlag 1979). The book consists of a number of newspaper articles written for the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung and one taken from the journal Merkur. Subsequent footnotes will state also the title and date of the article being referenced. [2] Karl Heinz Bohrer, Was alles so vorkommt. Dreizehn alltägliche Phantasiestücke (Suhrkamp 2021). [3] Karl Heinz Bohrer, Suddenness: On the Moment of Aesthetic Appearance (Columbia University Press 1994). [4] Karl Heinz Bohrer, Granatsplitter (Carl Hanser Verlag 2012). [5] Karl Heinz Bohrer, Jetzt. Geschichte meines Abenteuers mit der Phantasie (Suhrkamp 2017) 225. [6] Bohrer (n 1) 13-14. ‘Die englische Krankheit, Politische and psychologische Ursachen’, 27 September 1975. [7] ibid 103. ‘Das Gespenst des Kollectivismus’, 8 October 1977. Johnson had stood down as editor in 1970. [8] ibid 117. ‘Die Stummen und die Schreienden. In den Schächten des Untergrunds von London South East’, 26 April 1975. [9] ibid 22. ‘O Manchester’, 8 January 1977. [10] ibid 32. ‘Eine Begebenheit in Yorkshire. Fatalismus und Stolz. Englische Bergarbeiter am Rande Europas’, 20 November 1971. [11] ibid 74. ‘Der Totenwald von Highgate. Symbolismus und Horror. Die Victorianer und ihre vergesslichen Enkel’, 22 November 1975. [12] ibid 75. [13] ibid 89. ‘Die Präraffaeliten, oder Die Seele als Widersacher der Gesellschaft’, 30 January 1971. [14] Karl Heinz Bohrer, Plötzlichkeit. Zum Augenblick des ästhetischen Scheins (Suhrkamp 1981). [15] Bohrer (n 1) 181. ‘Manchmal Löwe, manchmal Einhorn’. 16 November 1968. [16] ibid 235. ‘Rückkehr zum Heroismus. Heinrich V, verlorener Haufen als nationales Märchen’, 5 June 1976; Bohrer (n 4) 315. I saw these productions. Karl Heinz doesn’t mention Timothy West, who was a wonderful Falstaff. [17] Bohrer (n 1) 235. [18] ibid 166. ‘Oh! What a lovely war, die Lust der Engländer an vergangenen Schlachten ist mehr als ein Tick’, 7 June 1969. [19] A quarter of a century later there was a new version performed at the Lyric in Hammersmith. [20] Bohrer (n 1) 68. ‘BBC. Mythos und Wirklichkeit’, 26-7 April 1977. [21] ibid 135. ‘Wie fremdenfeindlich ist England? Am deutschen Beispiel geschildert’, 5 June 1975. [22] ibid 150. ‘Der deutsche Widerstand und die Briten. Eine Diskussion im Deutschen Historischen Institut London’, 1 March 1977. [23] ibid 141. ‘Cup Final oder: Die zweite Halbzeit des Kampfes um Europa hat erst begonnen’, 10 May 1975. [24] ibid 197. ‘Haß als Zeitbombe in einer Gesellschaft ohne Liebe. Punk-Kultur und Kulturkritik’. 13 April 1978. [25] Karl Heinz Bohrer, Das Erscheinen des Dionysos. Antike Mythologie und moderne Metapher (Suhrkamp 2015). [26] Bohrer (n 1) 203-213. ‘Die Fähigkeit zu jubilieren’, 9 July 1977. [27] ibid 48. ‘Der ewige Bürgerkrieg’, originally published in Merkur 335, 1976. [28] Heinrich Böll, Irisches Tagebuch (Kiepenheuer & Witsch 1957). [29] Bohrer (n 5).

Anastasiia Marushevska is Editor-in-Chief of Ukraїner International. Ukraїner, conceived by journalist and writer Bohdan Lohvynenko as a volunteer media project, stands as a comprehensive educational initiative dedicated to Ukrainian studies. The project unfolds through socio-cultural expeditions, and since its inaugural journey in June 2016, it has developed a rich collection of multimedia materials translated into fifteen languages. Comprising published books and full-length documentaries about life before and during the full-scale war, the project aims to bridge cultural understanding among non-Ukrainians and Ukrainians alike. By documenting the diverse lives and crafts of residents across Ukrainian regions, Ukraїner endeavours to dispel negative stereotypes, fostering an open and receptive society. The initiative has collaborated with many governmental agencies, non-governmental organisations, and partners in different countries to promote Ukraine globally, and organised events in European capitals. The ultimate goal, as emphasised by project participants, was addressing the lack of information about different Ukrainian regions, thereby contributing to the development of tourism in Ukraine and a better understanding of cultural and national identity. This interview was conducted in August 2023. CJLPA: Anastasiia Marushevska, thank you for taking the time to sit with us at The Cambridge Journal of Law, Politics, and Art. You were born in the year Ukraine gained its independence: 1991. It almost seems like you grew up with Ukraine. How did your environment shape your career path? How do you want to help Ukraine in the future? Anastasiia Marushevska: Thank you for this question. We joke with my friends that we are tired of living through all these historical events that are happening during our lifetime. Growing up in Ukraine, there was always something changing. When I was 22, the Revolution of Dignity[1] happened before my eyes. I was at Maidan, I even lived nearby. Then, the worst started. I was among the generation that has been to Crimea. As a child and as an adult, I had an understanding of what Crimea is, compared to the younger generation who have never been there because it has been occupied for so long. In many ways, I was shaped in terms of my views in school. I studied at, you do not use this term in English, but we call it ‘gymnasium’,[2] which means an advanced school. I’d say I had very patriotic teachers. Since a young age, I was taught that Russia is not our friend. But it was always in the background because you never really think about it all the time. However, what is important is that my generation is the first to learn a truthful version of Ukraine’s history to understand who we are. Some information was disclosed before, for example about the Executed Renaissance,[3] or the dissident artists from the 60s in Ukraine called ‘the Sixtiers’, or what Stalin’s regime and the Soviet regime, in general, did to Ukraine. However, only a small number of Ukrainians had this knowledge, it had never been explained or taught before Ukraine regained its independence in 1991. When my generation was learning about the Holodomor,[4] we had a chance to avoid Soviet and Russian propaganda that has always tried to cover this crime. We started looking for the roots of our culture that the Soviet Union destroyed or attempted to destroy. Those shifts to understanding who we were had always been in the background when I was growing up and it continues till nowadays. Travelling a lot around the world, and living in different places, I needed to explain to foreigners where I was coming from, what Ukraine is, and why we are not Russians. I probably sounded like a Ukrainian nationalist to many because I always explained all the beauty my country had. When Russia invaded Ukraine in 2014, it started being incredibly complicated, as everyone outside Ukraine wanted to talk to me about it. Russians were trying to talk to me, but this conversation always went nowhere and, in general, I avoided it. It was always evident that wherever I went, my mission as a Ukrainian was to build Ukraine’s image and reputation. Otherwise, it was just impossible for me. One cannot pretend that Ukraine has the same level of safety as, for example, France or the UK. We grew up with the idea that we are in danger, being a young country with our historical oppressor as a neighbour. It is like an existential threat that always surrounds you. For example, I have lived in Bali, Indonesia, for almost four years. It is a highly complex country to build awareness about Ukraine, but it is also essential. Here, compared to Western countries, people have a very low understanding of Europe, especially Eastern Europe. It needs to be built from scratch. Many things are unknown to them. Unfortunately, there is a particular reason why the world needs to learn about Ukraine. We would not care to this extent whether the world knows about us if there were peace. But now this knowledge is a weapon. So it is vital. I believe that many Ukrainians are the same as me, who were doing different things in their life but ended up focusing all their expertise and resources on working for Ukraine in the way they can. CJLPA: Many people simply associate Ukrainian culture with Russian culture. What is the importance of shedding light on Ukrainian culture, differentiating it from Russian culture, and showing people that Ukraine has its own identity and culture? AM: There are several layers here. I was never interested in Russian culture. This assumption that all Ukrainians are somehow involved with Russian culture is not valid because everyone has a different experience here. I am from the central part of Ukraine while many people in the east have been forcibly Russified for generations. I started learning English very early and knew it pretty well almost all my life. I never cared about whatever they were doing in Russia. I was listening to Led Zeppelin and stuff like that. I did not care what was going on there. Of course, I was still exposed to Russian culture. I read a lot as a child and our home library was full of Russian books—a kind of Soviet heritage we all ended up with. But I always liked Ukrainian literature more. For me, Russia is just depressing and has always been. On the social, contextual, and historical layers, it is crucial to understand that Ukraine and Russia were formed in entirely different spaces. Ukraine has robust ties to Europe because Kyivan Rus was one of the biggest European countries, and our culture and language are much, much older than Russia’s. What you see now in Ukraine and Russia are the results of those different spaces. Russian society is somewhat like the Mongol invasion of modern times. It is very often forgotten that most of Russian territory is Asia with many tribes and indigenous nations being destroyed, occupied, or Russified at different stages of history. Even Russia and different republics within Russia were formed in completely different historical events than Ukraine. That’s why when someone says Ukrainian culture is similar to Russian, I always ask: what Russian culture—Dagestan, Siberia? Which region? What are you talking about? It is important to pinpoint that Russia was built in many ways on Ukrainian culture that they stole and mutilated, not vice versa. It is also crucial to recognise that Russian culture is largely shaped by propaganda and their ability to rewrite history. One of the historical facts that I find fascinating is about Queen Ekaterina, who liquidated the Zaporozhian Sich.[5] She decided to rewrite history, claiming that Russia was the successor of Kyivan Rus as a means to forge a connection to Europe since the history of Moscow was barbaric. They existed as barbarian tribes, and she invented a different narrative. For nine years, propaganda historians worked to rewrite history just to build this connection between Russia and Kyivan Rus along with all the heritage that Kyivan Rus left. Since then, everything has gone backwards. Many other events are affecting the vision of Ukraine worldwide. Still, this one is significant because it shows how Russia can use money and resources to create an image of something that does not exist. Understanding this historical difference is essential. I think many people, especially Europeans, have this idea because, in the Soviet Union, everyone was living under the same concept where there were no colours and no two opinions. There was work and communism, joy was only behind closed doors. For example, when you look at Georgia or Qazaqstan—these are completely different countries. We do not have that much in common in terms of history, languages, heritage, or the way we socialise; the Soviet Union made everyone look the same. Compared to Russians, people in Ukraine are trying to get rid of all of the Soviet mentality, not to glorify it. We grew up understanding that corruption, for example, is also a result of 70-year-long totalitarianism and we always fought against it. That is the difference between Ukrainian and Russian society. We want to understand our mistakes and build a better future. And it is a very, very complicated journey. I was born the same year Ukraine regained its independence, but my parents were born in the Soviet Union. They spent all their youth in the Soviet Union. My dad died before the full-scale invasion a few years ago. For him, the fall of the only country he knew was a complicated journey. It took him a long time to find his place in independent Ukraine. He did not know how to live with freedom. For my mum, it was a different story, she jumped on it right away. Everyone needed to go through this journey, having different experiences. It required time for my parents to realise that they were not Soviet people but Ukrainians. Of course, Ukraine is still going through this, we are still fighting against the Soviet mentality and Russian oppressing influence. But I think our path to rediscovering our true roots and heritage is what our modern culture is about. CJLPA: I want to talk about democracy in Ukraine briefly. Since its independence, Ukraine has been trying to establish itself and progress as a democratic nation. Throughout its modern history, it is constantly trying to improve. Still, they always face challenges dealing with Russian interference. In what ways does the modern Russian Federation disrupts Ukraine’s progress regarding the democratic process? AM: Sometimes, I ask myself this question: what is there for them? If you take some average Russian, what does he or she gain from Ukraine being invaded or Ukrainian children suffering? They probably feel like they are achieving something. This is the way Russian society is built, on fear and violence. For me, Russia never stops destroying countries around and beyond because it is the only power they know. They are destroying to unite their people. It is dreadful, but this is all they possess and what can explain their action or inaction. The power of destruction and the idle passion for physical force and suffering are deeply ingrained in their culture where everyone is suffering and dying. That is all they have. If you talk about democratic processes, the Baltic states managed to break free from Russia straight away, other countries could not. But if you look at the so-called post-Soviet space like Eastern Europe and Central Asia, Russia is losing its influence there. Russia is failing more and more economically, socially, and demographically. This idea of Great Russia, cultivated during the Russian Empire and Soviet times, has ceased to exist. Attempting to resurrect this notion is a way for Russia to demonstrate its power and influence global perceptions. To be honest, they have managed to do it because they blackmail the world with energy resources and other means. That is why the world needs to learn how to deal with bullies and prevent them from succeeding. Some experts believe that Russia invaded Ukraine in 2014 for natural resources as both the East and Crimea are rich with it. I disagree as there are Qazaqstan, Tajikistan, and many other places where they could achieve it. Russia needs Ukraine because, as with Kyivan Rus, it is their only connection to Europe. I believe this is the ‘Great Russia’ concept, where everyone gets ‘united’ again. That is why, in discussing specific events, we do not always immediately realise Russia’s involvement. It is striking to grow up in a city, noting a lengthy list of aspects in need of change, only to discover later that many of these ‘things’ were somehow tied to Russia’s influence. They had been gradually establishing their presence in the east of Ukraine, in Crimea, for a very long time. This is one of the reasons why they managed to occupy these territories and build a completely falsified image globally. I believe we were not cautious enough with this. It is a harsh reality, but it is through these experiences that the world is learning about Russia. They managed to get away with all those crimes for so long. Destroying Chechnya, Moldova, Georgia, Syria, and no one ever did anything to them. They never paid for any of their crimes, continuing to do what they know best: destroying. Democracy is not the Russian way of life. It is a system they’ve never truly embraced, and I am sceptical they will in the near future. For them, democracy is an indigestible concept. For Russia, having democracy next to itself means having Europe and NATO next to itself. Of course, they do not want this scenario because they will not be that threatening anymore. To be honest, if they attempted to do anything against member states, NATO would destroy Russia in a day if countries like China or Iran wouldn’t intervene. So they just create this idea that they are powerful, but against whom? CJLPA: Let’s shift more to Ukraїner. I want to explore this organisation’s purpose, its activity prior to the war, and how the start of the war in February 2022 changed it. Or did it even change the trajectory the organisation was going through? AM: We define Ukraїner as a community and organisation because we are an NGO, but at the same time, we unite many people; we have had around 700 volunteers since the start. Ukraїner started in 2016 when Bohdan Logvynenko, a Ukrainian journalist and traveller, decided to go on an expedition around Ukraine. Before that, he lived in different countries, including Indonesia, where he travelled around from island to island. He was meeting people, talking to them, and they never even heard about what was happening on the island next to them. The same problem was in Ukraine, people did not know who they were. I believe that Ukraїner made a significant contribution to Ukrainians understanding where they are coming from and fighting this idea of being a ‘small’ country or nation. Prior to the full-scale war, Ukraїner continuously went on expeditions around Ukraine, including to the smallest and most remote villages, exploring what was happening there. My favourite story is about the painter and sculptor Valerii from a little village not far from Poltava, who was building sculptures in his backyard. He was trying to make this one painting about Greece. He was 79 but had never been abroad; he never left Ukraine because he could not. He grew up in the Soviet Union with its Iron Curtain. In the 90s, no one had money, after that no one would ever give him a visa to go to Europe. Only in 2017 was Ukraine given visa-free entry to the Schengen zone—the same year the Ukraїner team met Valerii. So, Bohdan and others decided to take him to Greece and started a fundraiser that was completed in a few hours. That’s how Valerii went to Greece and we made a movie out of it called Cupressus, which we are now offering for different film festivals. Before the full-scale invasion, Ukraїner was about finding the stories of people or some specific industries, little farms, people preserving nature, doing something for the region, their village, something for the whole country. The scale could be different. First of all, it was about exploring who we are.[6] For me, one of Ukraїner’s most essential projects was the research on the indigenous people and national minorities of Ukraine, which we call national communities.[7] It culminated in a series of documentaries, written stories, and even a book called Who We Are. It was the first time someone explored those stories with such deep commitment to documenting and preserving the traditions of various national communities across different regions of Ukraine and defining the idea of the indigenous nations of Ukraine, which are Crimean Tatars, Karaites, and Krymchaks. They all come from Crimea. After a few years of Ukraїner doing this project, Ukraine adopted a law protecting the indigenous nations of Ukraine. We also made comprehensive investigative documentaries about the Holodomor and translated them into several languages. Ukrainian organisations worldwide use them to explain the Holodomor. While talking to older adults and understanding what they have been through and how they survived the Holodomor, we found some new evidence that had never been discovered before.[8] I would say Ukraїner has never been about beauty in the sense of a perfect picture. It was the beauty of everyday life. Something that surrounds us. I think it is just fascinating. There is nothing directed in these stories; you cannot prewrite the script. These people are doing something crazy. Since the full-scale war, many things we documented in our videos and photos no longer exist. Many have been destroyed in the Tavria region and near Kharkiv. We do not have access to Mariupol, no one does, so we can’t know for sure what’s left. But Ukraїner made stories in Mariupol and Nova Kakhovka before, documenting what might have been lost because of the Russian full-scale invasion. This is very important. And I believe that no one did such a thorough exploration of these specific places. Even if we cannot rebuild them the way they were, at least we have memories documented. There are people who protected these places, some put their lives on it. One of the examples is the Polina Raiko Museum in Kherson, which was flooded because of the terrorist attack on the Kakhovka Dam.[9] We do not know how it will unfold or what we will be able to restore, but this is where it has changed since the beginning of the full-scale war. Before, we were showing the reality of Ukrainians. Ukraїner did not change its values and we still show the reality. It is the reality that changed. Before the full-scale invasion, we visited different parts of Ukraine, made projects about Crimea, and talked to refugees from the east of Ukraine, already occupied at that point. We filmed people who lost their homes to the Russian occupation and told stories of what they lost. Now, unfortunately, the occupied territory is much, much bigger. Our expeditions have transformed into expeditions to the de-occupied areas.[10] That is how we showcase what Ukrainian society is, how different communities survived the occupation, what is happening there now, and what we can do to become even better after these areas are liberated. We also explore other topics. We have this great project called ‘Culture during the war’ where we try to cover artistic reactions to the war, challenges culture faces in wartime, how artists reconsider this war, and how they transform it into art. We document how many artists stopped creating art, joined the military, and started volunteering. We are documenting stories that show different sides of life during war. With our partners, we produced documentaries about rural Ukrainian architecture, which was also an exploration of our roots, how we used to do it before the Soviets came and before they enforced a weird understanding of how Ukrainians should live. We pay a lot of attention to regions. We tried to explain how each region was formed due to some additional mixing of ethnic and political influences, natural and geographical differences. During the full-scale war, we published one of our biggest documentary series about Christmas and Malanka,[11] the winter tradition in Ukraine, which was filmed before the full-scale war. Still, we believe it is more relevant than ever to explain to people that this is our tradition, not something we were convinced of. We have a very long history of mythology and storytelling, and all of these transform into performances during the winter holiday. We are still trying to have this balance between different angles of Ukrainian culture. We are also doing a documentary series about our military units with a long history. We do talk a lot about war. But we always talk about it from the perspective of values and how these all help us understand who we are, and where all of this is coming from. We used to be ‘slow media’. Now, we are faster because there are too many events happening. Also, our team has grown a lot since the beginning of the full-scale war. We have more language versions because speaking about Ukraine to different countries has become more important. Now, we have 12 active language versions, and we want to grow even more. Our department Ukraїner International is responsible for language versions and global presence. One last thing: we became a publishing house. We are working on this more precisely—we publish our books and help Ukrainian authors to publish theirs. This is also a way to keep the freedom and to do it the way we want by having financial freedom. CJLPA: What safety precautions would you have to take on expeditions to occupied areas? The Russians would not be happy to see people filming. How did it differ from before the war going into areas not under the Russian occupation, for example, in Crimea in 2014? AM: No one can go to occupied areas, there is no access. We go only to the de-occupied. We usually try to get there as fast as possible after the place is liberated. Last year (2022—ed.), for example, Bucha, Irpin, or Izium and Balakliia in the Kharkiv region—all of these places, it was one story, we talked a lot to the civilians and their resistance. When Kherson was liberated, it was similar. But this year (2023—ed.), we see a completely different story in the liberated areas. There are no people. There is no one left there. No one knows what happened to these people. It has become much more dangerous now because everything is mined. You cannot be in the de-occupied areas without the military. No one will allow you to go there because it is too dangerous. You cannot access anything without the presence of the army and before they clean the whole area. You can see in our recent videos of the ‘De-occupation’ series when soldiers give recommendations to our team, something like ‘Okay, when I say this, you go in the back of the car; when I say this, you need to move’. It is like that; we must work together to document all of the crimes. Sometimes, the enemy is very close. For example, Bohdan was with a team were in Kupiansk after the liberation. The Russian army was still on the other side of the city. They could see them on the other side of the river. Also, even though territories are liberated, these areas are under constant Russian shelling and missile attacks. As they are closer to the frontline, more weapons can be used for destruction. It is always dangerous. At the same time, journalists always go to the front lines. There are specific steps you need to take to protect yourself. It is essential to collaborate with people who can protect you while you are doing your job. That is why we are always in contact with the army, with soldiers, because they are the only ones who can protect us and tell us where we can go and where we cannot. Also, they are the heroes of our stories. CJLPA: How did the decision to embark on these expeditions despite the challenges and safety risks come about? AM: I do not know how to explain this. When you are a journalist in Ukraine, are you prepared for it? I do not know. Even if you ask yourself many questions about whether you should go there. For example, I have lived abroad for a while now. My husband is from Corsica, and we found ourselves living in Southeast Asia. So, for me, it is a different story, I have no right to speak on behalf of people who constantly go to the frontline. People often think that if you are not in Ukraine, you are just scared. But to be honest, when you are in Ukraine, you feel much more protected. It is a weird feeling. You think, ‘okay, I will figure it out, I am not alone’. I am trying to be conscious about my choices and do as much as I can, having global experience and being able to talk about Ukraine to the world. The idea to film the process of de-occupation appeared just one day when Bohdan was talking to one of our producers—Karina Piliugina. They decided to go to the liberated areas, and they did. A similar story happened when Ukraїner started, as it was an initiative of several people. After, it transformed and grew, receiving much attention and excellent feedback. Now, our stories have even greater importance as we also help document war crimes, keeping them in archives because a lot of things we cannot expose now. Filming and watching ‘de-occupation’ helps you comprehend what actually happened there and it completely changes your perception of many things, of the reality of Ukraine. I also believe that the idea ingrained in ‘de-occupation’ is a philosophical concept. What does de-occupation mean? You need to de-occupy not just your territory, a lot of things need to be liberated from Russian influence. What does it mean to rebuild the cities? What does it mean to bring back people who left? What does it all mean? Finding these answers is also part of our stories. CJLPA: How did you bring light to those voices and the experiences of the locals you encountered that you met along the way? How did those stories help to define that term: ‘de-occupation’? AM: Ukraїner had a vast range of friends and partners around Ukraine and beyond; sometimes it feels like your brain is a big village. Everyone knows each other, even though there are more than 40 million people in the Ukrainian pre-war population. You start to look for someone who knows someone who can find you someone else. It is always like this. You need to put a lot of effort into finding specific stories that are very representative. You could speak to many people. Sometimes, choosing the one that highlights the main issues is challenging. But when you do it, you can build a whole story out of it. Not all people can express themselves. Some people need to be motivated; some need a lot of time just to talk about their experiences and their trauma. I think putting light on specific stories and specific people is one of the main things about Ukraїner, its main advantage. We are never looking for someone famous specifically. For example, if the mayor led the resistance during the occupation, we would speak to the mayor because he is a person who could give us a lot of information. But if, for example, the mayor left the city, then we do not care about him. Ukrainian civil society is built on the stories of citizens, farmers and villagers who were not afraid to do something crazy to save others or to resist the enemy. It is not just some fancy people making a change. These people, these villagers who I have some personal stories about as well—for example, the friends of my mum, who were under occupation. One of them was talking to Russian soldiers as if they were children in kindergarten. How do they have the bravery for this? This resistance is what shows the Russians that they will never be able to win because even some random grandma in the village will just tell them to leave. We try to highlight this. We also try to highlight how Ukrainians unite to resist because it is also vital; how they volunteer to support each other, or how they build some systematic approaches to resistance because this is also a perfect example of how you can survive occupation and what this kind of partisan movements looks like. Many stories that we recorded during the ‘de-occupation’ series are of people who fell victim to Russian war crimes. We give them space, we talk about it in a very accessible manner. It is a bit different than any direct interview, which is also very important, but it is a different approach. They take us to the places where they have been tortured and explain everything that happened there. This always helps us to have people as a central part of every story we make. CJLPA: With the ongoing war, how have you balanced showcasing Ukraine’s beauty and culture and all of the people of Ukraine whilst also acknowledging the challenges, disruptions, and destruction caused by the war? AM: I am not saying that we balance it very well. I ask myself these questions all the time, especially working with different language versions. I do understand the need to speak about Ukraine as a whole more. Then, something terrible happens, and you just cannot be silent about it, you need to react. For me, it is evident that people worldwide are tired. Just telling some stories like we did at the beginning, not just Ukraїner, but in general as Ukraine, works differently now. You always need to find some angles and uncover new stories. Again, we have not yet balanced it that well. We are actively working towards this goal because we aim to showcase not only the impacts of the war but also how Ukrainians navigate through these times—what we do and how we live or resist in our daily lives. We make an effort to do so. Additionally, we are using stories from our archive, collected before the full-scale war, revisiting and repurposing them because their relevance persists. These stories significantly contribute to a deeper understanding of Ukraine. We are making efforts to translate and possibly create different versions of these narratives. I am hopeful that we will soon find the right balance. CJLPA: Thank you so much for answering our questions. You do incredible work to showcase Ukraine’s culture and people and share its stories. This interview was conducted by Nour Kachi and Eleanor Taylor. Nour is a Legal Researcher for CJLPA's Special Edition, 'The Human Agenda'. In addition to his role at CJLPA, he is currently working on qualifying as a lawyer in the US and UK. Eleanor is a Legal Researcher and geography graduate from the University of Manchester, currently studying the SQE to pursue a career as a commercial solicitor. [1] The Revolution of Dignity and Euromaidan took place in Ukraine in February 2014, when deadly clashes between protesters and state forces in the capital, Kyiv, culminated in the ousting of elected President Viktor Yanukovych and a return to the 2004 Constitution of Ukraine. It also led to the outbreak of the Russo-Ukrainian War. [2] Education in the gymnasium is multidisciplinary, according to the extended program. It is enough to teach one foreign language at school, at least two at the gymnasium, and one from primary school. [3] Executed Renaissance refers to the spiritual-cultural and literary-artistic generations of the 1920s and 30s in the Ukrainian SSR, which produced artistic works in literature, philosophy, painting, music, theatre, and cinema, and which was mostly destroyed during the Great Terror. [4] The term Holodomor (death by hunger, in Ukrainian) refers to the starvation of millions of Ukrainians in 1932-3 as a result of Soviet policies. The Holodomor can be seen as the culmination of an assault by the Communist Party and Soviet state on the Ukrainian peasantry, who resisted Soviet policies. [5] The Zaporozhian Sich was a semi-autonomous Kozak polity modelled after a strict military organisation, a bastion where young Kozaks were trained by old Kozaks, hardened by the many marches and battles they had experienced. Sich was led by the Kish—a community consisting of 38 kurins (a military-administrative unit of several hundred Kozaks), headed by Ottomans. [6] See ‘Stories about Ukrainians. With English subs’ (YouTube) accessed 10 March 2024. [7] See ‘National Minorities’ (Ukraїner) accessed 10 March 2024. [8] See ‘Holodomor’ (YouTube) accessed 10 March 2024. [9] The destruction of the Kakhovka hydroelectric dam is a war crime and potentially an act of ecocide committed by the occupying forces of the Russian Federation around 2:50am on 6 June 2023, during the Russian invasion of Ukraine. The Kakhovka HPP dam was mined and blown up, which led to its destruction. About 16,000 people are in the disaster zone, and about 80 settlements may be flooded as a result of the terrorist attack. [10] See ‘De-occupation’ (YouTube) accessed 10 March 2024. [11] Malanka is a Ukrainian folk holiday celebrated on 13 January, which is New Year's Eve, equivalent to 31 December of the Julian calendar.

On Monday 15 April, a fire broke out in the Notre-Dame de Paris. Believers and tourists were invited to leave the cathedral immediately. A race against time was launched which would last more than fifteen hours, defying all human bravery to save the Notre-Dame. Thousands of people gathered around the cathedral this evening to reflect, pray, and witness this catastrophe which none had thought possible to an eight-century old lady that had accompanied people in their joys and sorrows and had survived wars, plagues, revolutions, and occupations. The emotion was felt worldwide and donations for the reconstruction arrived quickly. The fire destroyed the spire, the timber roof structure, and part of the vault, at the level of the transept crossing. Three years later, the investigation to find the cause of this fire is still ongoing. This article does not claim to be an exhaustive account of the issues associated with the reconstruction of Notre-Dame, nor does it claim definitive answers to an ongoing investigation. It rather seeks to put forward a scientific hypothesis on the causes of this fire, not only for the pure satisfaction of knowledge, but also in the hope to raise awareness about the widespread but relatively unknown phenomenon of pyrolysis during works on monuments.[1] It is crucial that architects and companies working on listed buildings are aware of the phenomenon of pyrolysis so that they can adapt their working protocols, be more vigilant, and request more efficient fire detection instruments to avoid future similar disasters. In recent years, other major French monuments undergoing restoration works had been destroyed without the causes being identified: the seventeenth-century Hôtel Lambert in the centre of Paris in 2013 and the flamboyant gothic townhall of La Rochelle in 2013 are just two examples. In the 1990s, a fire outbreak was discovered just in time at the Beauvais Cathedral the day following some hot-spot work using a blowtorch. It is worth reminding the reader that the vast majority of fires happening during work are caused by hot-spot works.[2] The phenomenon of pyrolysis and, more generally, of slow combustion are still little known to those working on historic monuments, whether they are architects or craftsmen. The case of Notre-Dame de Paris deserves to be studied in greater depth because this hypothesis remains the most likely, given the conditions that existed during the restoration of the spire in the days preceding the fire. The current investigation has only shown that the fire started at the foot of the spire (fig. 1). Samples of charred wood have made it possible to locate the fire’s starting point in the area of ‘the wall plate of the choir at the south-east corner of the transept crossing’ (fig. 2).[3] The blueprints Eugène Viollet-le-Duc published in his Dictionnaire raisonné d’architecture give us interesting information on the ancient layout of the spire’s framework built in 1859 (fig. 1).[4] At the intersection of the roofs in line with the transept crossing, there were wooden posts directly linked to the timber roof structure on which rested sixteen statues representing the twelve Apostles and the symbols of the four Evangelists (fig. 2). The latter, placed at the bottom, were directly connected to the wall plate of the timber roof structure. The hollow statues are made of hammered and assembled copper sheets, reinforced by an iron frame. Bolts at the base of the statues were used to secure them to the plinths (figs. 2 and 3). The statues were removed on 11 April, using a blowtorch to cut off the heads of the Apostles according to a renovation protocol established by the architect, who was in charge of the site. In addition, it is highly likely that a torch or a grinder was used to unbolt and remove the screws, which were tightened more than 150 years ago at the foot of each statue. Would the advanced oxidation of the internal iron structure have necessitated cutting the head of a screw with a disc, causing slow combustion or pyrolysis? This is what the investigation should be able to determine. A chemical reaction of the pyrolysis type occurs in a confined environment, in the absence of dioxygen. At temperatures of around 300°C, the pyrolysis of wood releases flammable gases, especially carbon monoxide. The wooden supports of the statues were wrapped in lead foil to protect them from the weather (fig. 3). The conditions here (hot spot and dry wood in a confined environment) were therefore favourable to such a reaction. The slow degradation of wood at low temperatures ranging from 300 to 800°C can take several days and is difficult to notice in the absence of appropriate instruments of temperature detection.[5] In contact with the wall plate, the wooden post supporting the statue of St John’s eagle was no longer covered in lead, thus providing the reaction with a large supply of oxygen, a condition favourable to rapid combustion. The photograph taken in the attic by the security guard who discovered the fire confirms the very vigorous nature of the combustion at the foot of the timber roof structure, at the south-east corner of the transept crossing (fig. 4).[6] Laboratory tests provide information on the speed of propagation of the pyrolysis during which the wood starts to carbonise.[7] The speed varies from around 0.7 to 0.8 mm per minute.[8] It takes about a hundred hours for a pyrolysis to complete a four-metre-long pole, which is the length of the pole that supported the statue of the eagle of Saint John. This is precisely the time that elapsed between the removal of the statues on Thursday 11 April and the start of the fire on Monday 15 April at around 6 pm. The piece of wood affected by the pyrolysis phenomenon would have been completely degraded. The Notre-Dame de Paris fire is today the best documented case in the history of historical monuments in France and abroad. For example, the thousands of burnt pieces of the timber roof structure are inventoried, collected, and stored for later analysis.[9] The investigation should therefore be able to identify the missing pieces of wood in the area where the fire started. If the post supporting the eagle of St John is missing from the pieces of wood identified and taken by the judicial police, then the origin of the fire linked to the removal of the statues would be obvious. Rémi Desalbres Rémi Desalbres is heritage architect, founder and CEO of Arc&Sites Patrimoine & Création. He is also Honory President of the Heritage Architects Association in France (Association des Architectes du Patrimoine) since the end of his term as President from 2014 to 2020. [1] Mikaël Faujour, interview with Rémi Desalbres, ‘Notre-Dame : un an après l’incendie, la combustion lente ‘reste l’hypothèse la plus vraisemblable’ (Marianne, 15 April 2020) accessed 22 May 2022. [2] ibid. [3] ‘la sablière du mur gouttereau du chœur à l’angle sud-est de la croisée du transept’ Information from a judicial source, Agence France Presse (AFP), April 2022. [4] Eugène Viollet-le-Duc, ‘Article flèches de charpenterie’ in Dictionnaire raisonné de l’architecture française du XIe au XVIe siècle (Édition Bance-Morel 1854-1868) 444-472. [5] The self-ignition temperature varies depending on the wood species, its water content and its density. [6] Picture taken by the Cathedral steward first published one year after the fire, on 13 April 2020, by BFMTV. [7] Terrei Lucas, ‘Comportement au feu du matériau bois : auto-inflammation, dégradation et auto-extinction. Thermique [physics.class-ph]’ (PhD thesis, Université de Lorraine 2020). [8] Faujour (n 1). [9] Louise Mussat, ‘Notre-Dame: enquête au milieu des décombres’ (CNRS News, 1 October 2019) accessed 22 May 2022.

An Avenue to Justice for Afghan Women: Bringing a CEDAW Case Before the International Court of Justice[1] In a tumultuous Afghanistan, the plight of women and girls has reached a critical juncture. The resurgence of the Taliban in power has not only reversed decades of progress on women’s rights in the country, but has also plunged Afghan women into yet another dark era of severe oppression and erasure. The Taliban, as de facto authorities, are freely violating the international human rights treaties that Afghanistan has ratified, including the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW or the Convention). A chilling regime of systematic gender-based discrimination and violence now prevails. Women and girls are restricted in all facets of life and society, including their rights to freedom of movement, expression, and peaceful assembly, in addition to their rights to employment, political participation, health care, and education. Afghanistan stands alone as the only state in the world that bars girls from secondary and higher education. Women throughout Afghanistan describe their situation as isolation and suffocation, drawing comparisons to ‘living in prison-like conditions’.[2] United Nations mandate holders have concluded that ‘nowhere else in the world has there been an attack as widespread, systematic and all-encompassing on the rights of women and girls as in Afghanistan’.[3] The international community has repeatedly condemned the Taliban’s systematic persecution of women and girls. While domestic legal options are currently unavailable, no international legal avenues have been pursued to ensure that women’s and girls’ rights are restored. An untried, overlooked but promising avenue exists. The International Court of Justice (ICJ or the Court) offers a potential platform where the voices of Afghan women could echo, demanding justice and accountability. Under CEDAW, Afghanistan has consented to the ICJ’s jurisdiction to adjudicate disputes regarding its interpretation and application. Consequently, any other state party consenting to ICJ jurisdiction under CEDAW can bring Afghanistan before the Court to challenge its adherence to the Convention. This approach was highlighted in the June 2023 joint report by the United Nations Special Rapporteur for Afghanistan and the UN Working Group on discrimination against women and girls, which encouraged states to ‘[s]upport international and Afghan civil society justice-seeking efforts for Afghan women and girls for violations of their human rights, including through the […] International Court of Justice’.[4] UN experts have consistently reiterated this stance.[5] While recognising the complexities and challenging nature of such a case, this piece argues that it is not only legally feasible, but also could yield significant and positive impact for women and girls in Afghanistan. The following discussion aims to elucidate this possibility.[6] Over the years, the ICJ has emerged as an increasingly important forum for adjudicating violations of international human rights conventions. The Court is currently hearing several cases of this nature, including Ukraine v. Russia (concerning the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD) and the Genocide Convention); Armenia v. Azerbaijan (regarding ICERD); The Gambia v. Myanmar (concerning the Genocide Convention); Canada and the Netherlands v. Syrian Arab Republic (in relation to the Convention Against Torture (CAT)), and South Africa v. Israel (concerning the Genocide Convention). Bringing a case under CEDAW at the ICJ would be a landmark first, marking the Court’s inaugural examination of the world’s foremost women’s rights treaty.[7] 1. The Taliban’s Systemic Violations of Women and Girls’ Rights under CEDAW Since the Taliban’s takeover of Afghanistan in 2021, women and girls in the country have been subjected to severe forms of gender-based discrimination and violence, a situation deemed ‘unparalleled globally’,[8] and identified by UN mandates as potentially constituting gender persecution, a crime against humanity, and possibly ‘gender apartheid’.[9] The Taliban’s discriminatory policies and practices against women and girls have resulted in a severe erosion of their rights and opportunities. These measures have been implemented through a range of decrees, both written and announced, directly contradicting Afghanistan’s obligations under the CEDAW.[10] The Taliban have taken a series of measures that have had the effect of banning all girls and women from education beyond the sixth grade. First, through a decree of August 2021, the Taliban authorities banned co-education, and girls were no longer allowed to receive education from male teachers.[11] In September 2021 the Taliban announced the return of male teachers and students to secondary schools, without addressing whether women and girls could return.[12] By March 2022, the Taliban announced that girls from grade seven and up could no longer attend school.[13] At the university level, women’s access to education was also restricted and eventually prohibited. When the Taliban returned to power, they imposed gender-segregated classes for female students, a mandatory campus dress code, and police control over dormitories, with women receiving severe threats in case of non-compliance. [14] In December 2022, the Taliban banned women’s access to university education.[15] The fear of harassment and violence by Taliban members has also discouraged many young girls from attending schools, even when they are permitted to, with some afraid to leave their homes altogether.[16] Additionally, only a few months after seizing power, the Taliban instituted a de facto prohibition on many forms of employment for women in Afghanistan, limiting their roles in humanitarian agencies to specific sectors such as health care, primary education, and nutrition.[17] The Taliban authorities prohibited women from holding any senior positions in the civil service, including as judges.[18] In December 2022 and April 2023, respectively, Afghan women faced additional setbacks as they were banned from working with international non-governmental organisations and then with UN agencies except in the exempted areas.[19] Subsequently, in July 2023, beauty salons for women were closed, at a cost of 60,000 women’s jobs, and removing one of the very few spaces where women could find support and community outside their homes.[20] Moreover, in most Afghan provinces, Taliban authorities have announced and frequently enforced rules prohibiting women from travelling or leaving their homes, including to go to their workplace without a male family member accompanying them.[21] The authorities also announced rules requiring women to fully cover their faces in public and stipulated that male family members would be punished when women violate rules regarding movement and clothing.[22] As a result, women and girls faced additional severe limitations in access to education, health care, and employment opportunities.[23] These restrictions also increase their vulnerability to harassment and violence, both in public and a home.[24] Beyond the physical limitations, the psychological impact of living in constant surveillance and fear has been pervasive.[25] Forced and early marriages have also reportedly increased, partly in response to the economic crisis, further diminishing women and girls’ autonomy and exposing them to coercion and violence.[26] Women have been forcibly disappeared and severely punished by the Taliban, including with lashings and imprisonment. These severe restrictions have left women economically dependent and vulnerable to continued violence and discrimination.[27] Women’s access to justice has been also severely curtailed, with numerous obstacles obstructing their ability to seek legal remedies and protection. The imposition of a legal system that purports to rely solely on the Taliban’s strict interpretation of Sharia law often discriminates against women and girls, making it arduous for women to assert their rights in matters such as divorce, inheritance, and child custody. The ban on women working as legal professionals and judges further compounds these challenges, leaving women without adequate legal counsel.[28] Restrictions on women’s freedom of movement, stringent dress codes, and the requirement of male guardians not only restrict their access to legal institutions but also discourage them from pursuing legal action due to fear of retaliation or threats.[29] The Taliban have also restricted access to health services for women and girls, with severe health consequences.[30] A primary barrier to health care access for women in some areas is the requirement for a male guardian to accompanying them to health clinics, which is also a violation of their medical privacy. The situation is exacerbated as many female health staff are unable to work or fulfil their duties under the current circumstances and no new female healthcare workers are joining the profession due to the Taliban’s bans on education for girls and women. This combination of restrictions has significantly hampered women and girls’ ability to obtain essential medical and psychological support,[31] as well as to access sexual and reproductive healthcare services, including prenatal and postnatal care, sexual and reproductive health care, and maternal health services.[32] The denial of reproductive rights and healthcare access has had a profound psychological impact on Afghan women, with growing anxiety and fear regarding their reproductive well-being.[33] Finally, women in Afghanistan are facing profound violations of their right to political participation, denying them representation in the political sphere. The Taliban leadership, all men, has also prohibited women from participating in governance at any level.[34] Most women who worked for the former government have been unable to resume their jobs. Stifling freedom of expression and the suppressing of women’s voices have marginalized them from political discourse.[35] Taliban forces have used excessive force to disperse women protesting. The Taliban have arbitrarily detained many female protesters—in some cases with their entire family, including small children. Detained protesters and their family members have experienced torture and other ill-treatment in custody, including threats, beatings, dangerous conditions of confinement, denial of due process, and abusive conditions for release.[36] This type of treatment has affected female activists, protesters, politicians, and journalists, thereby inhibiting their participation in public and political life.[37] 2. Litigating Before the ICJ for the Rights of Afghan Women and Girls Under CEDAW 2.1. Jurisdiction Over Afghanistan Under CEDAW’s Compromissory Clause The ICJ has jurisdiction to adjudicate disputes between states (i.e. ‘contentious cases’), but its jurisdiction is contingent on the consent of the involved states—a foundational aspect of international law. Such consent can be established primarily through (1) a special agreement between the states to submit the dispute to the Court; (2) reciprocal declarations made under the ICJ Statute; and (3) a compromissory (jurisdictional) clause in a treaty to which the states are party.[38] Approximately 350 treaties, including CEDAW, contain compromissory clauses that grant the ICJ jurisdiction over contentious cases.[39] By ratifying CEDAW in 2003 without reservation to its compromissory clause (Article 29), the State of Afghanistan explicitly consented to the jurisdiction of the ICJ thereunder. Article 29 stipulates that any dispute between two or more states Parties ‘concerning the interpretation or application’ of the Convention that is not settled by those parties may be referred by one of them to the International Court of Justice.[40] 2.2. The Taliban’s Actions are Attributable to the State of Afghanistan The Taliban lacks international recognition as Afghanistan’s government. However, they are considered the de facto authorities in Afghanistan as they have consolidated their administrative control over Afghanistan’s 34 provinces.[41] This means that, despite not having international recognition, the Taliban inherits all obligations and responsibilities that are binding on the State of Afghanistan, including adherence to the international treaties to which it is a party, including CEDAW. The International Law Commission (ILC) Draft Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, which codifies customary international law, notes that a ‘de facto government…is itself an apparatus of the state’ and its ‘conduct’ is imputable to the state (Article 4; Comment 4 to Article 9).[42] Consequently, actions carried out by the Taliban are imputable to the State of Afghanistan. As the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights has stated, ‘Afghanistan as a State remains bound by the international human rights obligations stemming from the treaties to which it is a party. The de facto authorities have responsibility for upholding these obligations by respecting, protecting and fulfilling human rights in Afghanistan’.[43] Additionally, because the Taliban authorities are not the recognised government of Afghanistan, they do not have the authority to withdraw from the state’s treaties including CEDAW, while still obligated to meet its provisions.[44] 2.3. Any State Party that has Consented to ICJ Jurisdiction Under CEDAW Can Participate in the Case Under CEDAW, any state party can challenge Afghanistan’s adherence to the Convention before the ICJ, provided it has likewise consented to the Court’s jurisdiction under the treaty. Additionally, in accordance with Articles 62 and 63 of the ICJ Statute, once the case is initiated, other state parties may co-file or intervene. Furthermore, Article 48(1)(a) of the ILC Draft Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, regarding the ‘invocation of responsibility by a State other than an injured State’ stipulates that any state can invoke the responsibility of another state if the obligation breached is owed to a group of states ‘for the protection of a collective interest of the group’. Commentary to paragraph 1(a) explains that such obligations ‘may derive from multilateral treaties’ sometimes referred to as ‘obligations erga omnes partes’ (Comment 6)—the principle that every state party to a treaty in question has an interest in other states’ compliance.[45] Moreover, ‘[o]bligations coming within the scope of paragraph 1(a) have been ‘collective obligations’, ie they must apply between a group of states and have been established in some collective interest’ (Comment 7). The principal purpose of such collective obligations is ‘to foster a common interest, over and above any interests of the states concerned individually. This would include situations in in which states, attempting to set general standards of protection for a group or people, have assumed obligations protecting non-State entities’. Thus, CEDAW, with 189 states parties, attempts to ‘set general standards for protection’ for women, with the stated purpose of eliminating ‘discrimination against women in all its forms’.[46] Accordingly, any state party to CEDAW, provided they meet the jurisdictional requirements discussed above, can invoke Afghanistan’s responsibility. 2.4. Litigating Against the State of Afghanistan Without Recognizing the Taliban While the Taliban have control over the State of Afghanistan, no foreign government thus far has officially recognised them as its legitimate governing authority.[47] Diplomats from the previous Afghan government continue to represent Afghanistan at the United Nations, indicating that the UN does not recognise the Taliban.[48] Nevertheless, the Taliban have sought to gain recognition and international legitimacy, motivated by the pursuit of financial resources, trade advantages, international status, and diplomatic relations.[49] Litigation before the ICJ is only between states, meaning that the proposed case would be against the State of Afghanistan, rather than the Taliban. It is firmly established that initiating litigation against a state does not equate to, nor require, the recognition of its government. ICJ precedents confirm that a state initiating proceedings against Afghanistan would not result in recognising the Taliban as its government. For instance, in United States of America v. Iran (1980), the United States filed an application against Iran despite the ambiguous nature of diplomatic relations and recognition of the Iranian revolutionary government, referring to it as the ‘Government of Iran’ rather than the ‘Islamic Republic of Iran’, which the Iranian constitution specified. The case continued even after the US severed all diplomatic relations. [50] In Ethiopia v. South Africa (1960)[51] and Liberia v. South Africa (1960),[52] both applicant states instituted proceedings against apartheid South Africa despite their lack of diplomatic relations and their active efforts to boycott and delegitimise it internationally. Moreover, in The Gambia v. Myanmar (2019), the international community’s lack of recognition of Myanmar’s military junta following its 2021 coup against the civilian government mid-ICJ proceedings, and its subsequent appearance before the Court, did not in any way provide legitimacy to the junta’s rule. Instead, the Court specifically proclaimed ‘that the parties to a contentious case before the court are States, not particular governments’.[53] As such, pursuing claims against Afghanistan before the ICJ does not require a state to recognise the Taliban as the legitimate government; rather, it demonstrates that a state recognizes that violations of CEDAW are occurring within Afghan territory. 2.5 Procedural Pathway to Litigation and Relief Under CEDAW To initiate a case at the ICJ under CEDAW, an existing dispute between states regarding the convention’s interpretation or application is required, often identified through multilateral statements or bilateral exchanges such as a note verbale. Per Article 29 of CEDAW, states must first attempt to negotiate a resolution of their disagreement under CEDAW and, failing that, try to organise arbitration for six months. Only after these diplomatic efforts are exhausted, can states bring the dispute to the ICJ. Once a case is filed at the ICJ, the procedure, as set out in Article 43 of the ICJ Statute, starts with the applicant state(s) submitting written observations on the court’s jurisdiction, admissibility, and merits. The respondent state then either acknowledges these claims and presents its observations on the merits or raises preliminary objections, often addressed in a separate public hearing. If the court confirms its jurisdiction and admissibility of the case, it then proceeds to hear the respondent state’s observations on the merits, followed by a public hearing. The process concludes with the ICJ issuing its final judgement. As stipulated in Article 41 of the ICJ Statute, once a case is initiated, any state involved may request the ICJ to order provisional measures—obligatory temporary protective or injunctive relief—to safeguard their rights pending a final decision. These interim rulings are aimed at preventing the aggravation of the dispute, particularly critical in prolonged cases relating to situations of armed conflict, or when broad violations of human rights are at risk—as is the situation for women and girls in Afghanistan. In cases brought under analogous core international human rights conventions, particularly the ICERD, the Court has consistently found the ‘irreparable harm’ required for it to issue provisional measures and has traditionally done so within days or weeks of receiving the request.[54] For example, the Court issued provisional measures within 18 days in a case Ukraine brought against Russia,[55] and within 28 days for a case filed by South Africa against Israel.[56] And while the ICJ issued provisional measures in only 10 cases during its first 50 years of existence, the number has significantly increased in the past decade, with even more cases involving such measures.[57] In a CEDAW case against the State of Afghanistan, provisional measures could include, for example, orders to lift discriminatory restrictions on education, employment, and movement. 3. Diverse International Participation in Defending Afghan Women’s Rights As explained above, multiple states parties to CEDAW may jointly file or intervene as third parties in the potential case. This approach is evidenced by cases like Ukraine v. Russia concerning the Genocide Convention, in which 32 states filed declarations of intervention pursuant to Article 63 (third party interventions) and the European Union also contributed information; as well as in Canada and The Netherlands v. Syrian Arab Republic, in which seven states thus far have filed declarations of intervention. In the recent case of South Africa v. Israel, scores of states have issued public statements about the case, and already a number of states announced they will intervene as a third party. Nicaragua, referring to Article 62 of the Statute of the Court, filed an application for permission to intervene “as a party” in the case.[58] The strength of the case would be significantly enriched by the active participation of a broad spectrum of states from diverse regions. Such involvement, with each state bringing unique perspectives and regional insights, would ensure a more holistic and globally representative approach to the legal arguments and considerations. Unlike other human rights situations that can be politically divisive, the situation of women and girls in Afghanistan is a rare unifying issue that has garnered global condemnation. This unity should be reflected in the composition of applicants and interveners for the case. Given the cultural, religious, and geopolitical dimensions inherent in the case, it would be ideal for a diverse group of states (including from different regions) to come forward as co-applicants and interveners. This would provide the Court with a wide spectrum of perspectives and legal cultures, cultivating a balanced interpretation of CEDAW provisions and a more nuanced understanding of the challenges faced by Afghan women and girls. The involvement by states from various regions, particularly those outside the Western sphere, would also be crucial in countering the risk and perception of double standards and could avoid reproducing a narrative rooted in historical grievances. The history of Western interventions in Afghanistan, coupled with the legacies of these actions, evokes justified frustrations, especially in the context of this case, where the narrative of ‘liberating’ Afghan women has previously been employed to justify military actions.[59] The de facto authorities have already referred to this narrative in the information they sent to the CEDAW Committee on 30 January 2023, asserting that ‘Western countries repeatedly stated that they came here to support Afghan women, but slowly and gradually this issue disappeared’.[60] Failing to confront this narrative could risk undermining the case’s prospects and could provide the Taliban with an opportunity to challenge its legitimacy, which would be counterproductive for the success of the case. States that might be particularly interested in championing this case include those that have adopted a Feminist Foreign Policy, which means that they commit to upholding equality and women’s rights in their bilateral engagements with other states and in multilateral forums.[61] Feminist Foreign Policy states’ participation in this case would aligned with their responsibility to implement tangible, feminist solutions to foreign policy challenges. Their active involvement, whether as co-applicants or interveners, is helpful for introducing a decolonial and intersectional feminist perspective to the proceedings, which includes among other things facilitating Afghan women’s effective and meaningful participation in the case. The engagement of these states is also crucial for addressing the nuanced issues involved, considering the intersectional nature of the various forms of oppression and discrimination experienced by Afghan women and girls. Ultimately, the effectiveness and legitimacy of this case will rely on a diligent and respectful approach to the multilayered complexities experienced by Afghans. Case legitimacy is fundamental to ensure its effectiveness. As explained below, the enforcement of ICJ judgements relies heavily on the international community’s will to use the Court’s decisions in political negotiations, and on potential receptivity by the defendant state. An imperative is to ensure that the Afghan community, and especially Afghan women, are genuinely involved in the process—a process which is about them. An inclusive approach is fundamental to addressing the nuanced and intersecting challenges Afghan women and girls endure, providing a pathway to justice that respects the diverse contexts of their experiences. 4. Afghan Women’s Agency Over and ‘Participation’ in the Litigation Ensuring and respecting the agency of Afghan women throughout this potential case is of paramount importance and a fundamental condition for the case to have true meaning. This should begin from the initial phase of building the case and extend throughout the implementation of any Court ruling. Effective and meaningful involvement of Afghan women in the case ensures it accurately represents their interests and addresses their longstanding exclusion from crucial discussions about their rights. Such active participation has the potential to transform this case into a groundbreaking platform for Afghan women to take control and assert their fundamental rights under international law. The ICJ does not have formal procedures for direct victim/survivor participation in its proceedings. Article 34 of the ICJ Statute specifies that only states may be parties in court cases, precluding individuals from independently intervening. Despite this, there are ways for Afghan women victims, survivors, and witnesses to contribute and support claims against the State of Afghanistan. This can be facilitated through the applicant state(s), which can incorporate statements from Afghan victims and survivors into the case, and potentially ensure their presence at hearings.[62] This approach enables the voices and experiences of those directly affected to be better involved in the judicial process, especially following their longstanding exclusion from crucial discussions about their rights. With that said, the involvement of Afghan women in the case should transcend any view seeing them solely as ‘victims/survivors of the Taliban’. They should be acknowledged as agents of change who lead and/or can effectively contribute to the case in various capacities should they want to—from gathering evidence and helping prepare case documentation to working in strategic communications, especially when communicating to the Afghan community. Afghan legal professionals should be part of the legal team, part of the decision-making process, and actively involved in shaping the litigation strategy, including legal argumentation and remedies sought, and where possible, leading oral argument. In this way, Afghan women’s own voices can literally be heard at the ICJ. Nevertheless, one of the challenges will be to encompass the diverse range of violations and abuses endured by Afghan women and girls. Every effort should be made to ensure a comprehensive representation of the varied intersectional experiences of Afghan women and girls, particularly that of Afghan women who are still in Afghanistan, whose experiences of life under the Taliban are affected not only by their gender but by other factors including their age, disability, economic status, education level, location, sexual orientation, gender identity, and their religion and ethnicity, a concern particularly for women and girls who belong to marginalised religious and ethnic minorities, such as the Hazara.[63] Ultimately, the effectiveness of the ICJ proceedings hinges not only on the final judgment but also on the inclusivity of the process. If Afghan women are not provided a platform for substantial and meaningful participation throughout the case, the true success of the proceedings, in terms of addressing and remedying their plight, cannot be realised. It will be the responsibility of the applicant state(s) to ensure that Afghan women are not only involved but are invited to be central to the entire legal process. 5. Potential Impact of an ICJ Case Initiating a case before the ICJ presents a profound and substantive option for legal recourse, and perhaps one of the few available legal avenues to combat the oppressive measures the Taliban has imposed on the women and girls of Afghanistan. Such a case could have far-reaching implications not only for those within the country but also for Afghan women in the diaspora and would be precedent-setting for women’s rights globally. 5.1. Bolstering Diplomatic Efforts to Improve the Situation in Afghanistan The Court’s rulings in contentious cases are not only legally binding on the states party to the proceedings,[64] but also significantly shape the legal and diplomatic landscape. Although direct compliance by the Taliban may seem unlikely per se, the influence of the ICJ should be considered in the broader context of ongoing diplomatic efforts. The ICJ’s decisions extend an authoritative legal narrative that extends beyond the immediate parties involved. This would result in a ‘shadow of the law’,[65] wherein all states and other entities, like the UN, engaged in negotiations and interactions with the Taliban are compelled to prioritise the promotion and protection of women’s rights, rather than treating it as a peripheral issue in their conversations. As such, engaging with the Taliban in a context in which the ‘world’s highest court’ has pronounced Afghanistan in violation of women’s and girls’ fundamental rights places significant legal pressure on all interacting entities. In addition, Article 41(2) of the ICJ Statute requires the communication of provisional measures to the UN Security Council, offering an opportunity to reinforce and bolster the focus on Afghanistan within the Council, particularly in relation to women’s rights. Furthermore, if an applicant state believes that Afghanistan has failed to fulfil its obligations under an ICJ judgement, it may bring the matter before the Security Council under Article 94 of the UN Charter, which, though underutilised, authorises the Security Council to determine the measures to be taken to give effect to a judgement. 5.2. Creating a New Forum for Afghan Women to Assert their Rights There is mounting frustration among Afghan women over their strongly held view that the international community’s professed commitment to human rights and women’s rights in Afghanistan has not been matched by concrete actions. More than two years since the Taliban takeover, Afghan women continue to await meaningful international action. The proposed case aims to respond to Afghan women’s demands, offering a novel and dedicated platform to further champion their rights under international law. It provides an opportunity for Afghan women to actively participate in the pursuit of justice, advocate for their fundamental rights, amplify their grievances, and elevate their voices on a global stage from which they have been largely excluded. Additionally, the litigation would grant survivors and victims of the Taliban an opportunity to share their experiences and help establish an official record of violations, which is important for future accountability measures and advocacy efforts. Despite the lack of domestic legal channels, there is hope for a future in which these crimes can be duly prosecuted, and this case could serve as a foundational step in building and enhancing the record for domestic or international accountability efforts. 5.3. Effect on Recognition of the Taliban From a strictly legal standpoint, the Taliban’s appearance before the Court cannot result in their formal recognition.[66] Nevertheless, there is a valid concern that such litigation could inadvertently bestow some political legitimacy if the Taliban present themselves as state representatives. Yet, the likelihood of this conferring any significant legitimacy seems unlikely, and at most, it would only influence states already inclined toward recognising the Taliban—a scenario with no current examples.[67] Further, should the Taliban not appear to defend a case against Afghanistan, the case would still proceed, with the ICJ determining whether violations of CEDAW are occurring within the country.[68] The proposed litigation could act as a substantial impediment to the Taliban becoming viewed as the legitimate government of Afghanistan. ICJ rulings, including provisional measures, that find that the Taliban has violated international law, would be an authoritative, legally binding determination that could impact Taliban efforts to gain international recognition and legitimacy. Notably, UN Security Council Resolution 2679 (2023) requested an independent assessment on Afghanistan which focused on the reintegration of Afghanistan into the international system. The assessment was circulated to the Council on 9 November 2023 and underscored the necessity of the Taliban’s adherence to Afghanistan’s international obligations, particularly under CEDAW, noting that key benchmarks must be fulfilled regarding progress on the rights of women and girls in accordance with the state’s treaty obligations. On 29 December, the Council adopted Resolution 2721, which, among other matters, took positive note of the independent assessment. An ICJ decision that finds the State of Afghanistan in violation of CEDAW could be grounds for unilateral or collective (soft) measures by concerned governments against Afghanistan.[69] Additionally, such a decision could also deter countries considering sending back Afghan women and girls who have sought asylum and compel states to grant refugee status to female Afghan asylum-seekers solely on the basis of gender. 5.4. Advancing Women’s Rights through the First ICJ Adjudication of CEDAW This case would mark a landmark moment as it would be the first time CEDAW, the world’s foremost treaty on women’s rights, is adjudicated by the ICJ.[70] It offers a significant opportunity to reinforce the principle of gender equality under international law, not just for Afghanistan, but globally. By spearheading this unprecedented case, involved states would establish an enduring legacy in the advancement of women’s rights. 5.5. Complementing Other Accountability Mechanisms that Address the Situation in Afghanistan The quest for justice by the women and girls of Afghanistan is a multi-layered endeavor that benefits from the complementary roles of various international legal mechanisms in addressing the spectrum of violations they face. Each accountability mechanism has unique capabilities and limitations in delivering justice to Afghan women and girls, and none of them can substitute for another. The potential case before the ICJ too, when strategically employed and coordinated, can complement existing mechanisms and fill some of the accountability gaps. Discussions around accountability in Afghanistan have primarily focused on criminal accountability, notably the International Criminal Court (ICC) investigation[71] and the application of universal jurisdiction.[72] Both are vital for addressing serious international crimes, yet they are constrained in their scope. This includes jurisdictional limitations on the types of crimes prosecutable and practical limitations on the number of individuals who can be tried. Critically, both the ICC and the exercise of universal jurisdiction are also subject to the discretion of their respective authorities, in terms of who and what is prosecuted. In contrast, the ICJ offers a venue to address responsibility for a broader spectrum of violations under international human rights law, in particular, CEDAW. This opens a pathway for holding Afghanistan, and the Taliban by proxy, accountable for a wider range of violations that might otherwise go unaddressed. Moreover, litigation at the ICJ could potentially move faster than criminal investigations and prosecutions, for instance through provisional measures, applying more immediate pressure on the Taliban.[73] As such, a synergistic approach that combines the ICJ, ICC, universal jurisdiction, and tools like the UN Special Rapporteur on Afghanistan’s mandate is essential. These mechanisms can reinforce one another through enhancing the vast range of legal principles involved, gathering evidence, and amplifying the severity of the situation on the international stage. This integrated strategy, as seen in situations like Ukraine and Myanmar, could hold out promises for a more comprehensive justice and reparations for Afghan women and girls for the myriad violations they have endured. 6. Conclusion Amidst the harrowing situation for the women and girls of Afghanistan, the ICJ offers a novel option for justice and accountability. As the Taliban egregiously flout their obligations under CEDAW, other states who are parties to the Convention possess an opportunity to pioneer a historic move in the global pursuit for women’s equal rights. While such a case would be complex, it is legally feasible and has potential for meaningful impact. This avenue aligns with the increasing calls for justice-seeking efforts by Afghan women and girls and could contribute to restoring fundamental rights in the country and beyond. Fereshta Abbasi, Natasha Arnpriester, and Duru Yavan (All names are listed in alphabetical order by surname.) Fereshta Abbasi is an accomplished human rights lawyer and advocate from Afghanistan. For the past ten years, she has documented human rights abuses in Afghanistan with different organizations, including Human Rights Watch and the All-Survivors Project. Currently, she is the Afghanistan researcher for Human Rights Watch, focusing on research and documentation of ongoing abuses in Afghanistan. Natasha Arnpriester is an international human rights lawyer and Senior Strategic Litigation Officer at the Open Society Justice Initiative, who specializes in developing innovative litigation strategies to tackle complex and challenging human rights issues. Her litigation spans regional human rights tribunals, several domestic courts, and the UN treaty bodies. Duru Yavan is a human rights lawyer from Turkey, currently working as an Associate Strategic Litigation Officer at the Open Society Justice Initiative, where she uses strategic litigation and advocacy to protect and advance human rights at domestic, regional, and international levels. Her expertise lies in gender justice, accountability for severe human rights violations and international crimes, and the application of decolonial, intersectional feminist approaches to strategic human rights litigation. [1] Since late 2021, Open Society Justice Initiative (OSJI) has conducted rigorous research, developed legal strategy, and compiled evidence in support of a potential ICJ case against the State of Afghanistan for the ongoing grave violations committed by the de facto authorities against women and girls. The article was greatly enhanced by the review and input of Manuela Londoño, Mariana Pena, and Genevieve Quinn. Advocacy and research compiled in anticipation of this case has also significantly benefitted from several OSJI colleagues, including Betsy Apple, Georgiana Epure, James Goldston, Sophie Li, Diana Romina Puerto Michaut, Ashrakat Mohammed, and Beini Ye, as well as Open Society Foundations (OSF) colleagues, Shehryar Fazli, Sana Ghouse, and Omar Waraich (all names are listed in alphabetical order by surname). OSF had an office in Kabul until 2021. Human Rights Watch has documented human rights abuses and violations of international humanitarian law by all parties to the conflicts in Afghanistan, including foreign armed forces, since the early 1980s. Since August 2021, Human Rights Watch has documented human rights abuses by the Taliban, including systematic violations of the rights of women and girls that amount to the crime against humanity of gender persecution; repression and censorship of the media; and abuses against people in custody. Human Rights Watch’s work in Afghanistan involves extensive research and advocacy to promote accountability and urge the protection of fundamental rights for all Afghans. [2] United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, ‘Afghanistan: UN experts say 20 years of progress for women and girls’ rights erased since Taliban takeover’, OHCHR press release (8 March 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [3] United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, ‘Situation of women and girls in Afghanistan - Report of the Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights in Afghanistan and the Working Group on discrimination against women and girls’, A/HRC/53/21 (15 June 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [4] ibid. [5] See, eg, ‘Special Rapporteur to Human Rights Council: the Systematic and Institutionalised Discrimination that Seeks to Exclude Women from All Facets of Life in Afghanistan Necessitates an Examination of the Evolving Phenomenon of Gender Apartheid’, speech at the UN Human Rights Council (11 September 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [6] A more comprehensive version of this paper will be published as a legal brief by the Open Society Justice Initiative. [7] The DRC attempted to bring a case under CEDAW (among several other conventions) in Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (Democratic Republic of the Congo v. Rwanda), however, the Court found that the DRC never made any attempts to enter into negotiations or undertake arbitration proceedings with Rwanda concerning the application of Article 29 of the Convention, a required prerequisite, nor had it specified which rights protected by that Convention. See Order of 10 July 2002 Request for the Indication of Provisional Measures, para 79. [8] United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, ‘Taliban edicts suffocating women and girls in Afghanistan: UN experts’ press release’ (19 June 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [9] United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, ‘Afghanistan: Latest Taliban treatment of women and girls may be crime against humanity, say UN experts’ press release’ (25 November 2022) accessed 15 November 2023. For an overview of the End Gender Apartheid campaign, see accessed 15 November 2023. [10] See full list at United States Institute of Peace, ‘Tracking the Taliban’s (Mis)Treatment of Women’ accessed 15 November 2023. [11] Srishti Goel, ‘Taliban declare ban On Co-education in Afghanistan, Prohibit Men From Teaching Girls’ (Republicworld.com, 30 August 2021) accessed 15 November 2023. [12] Emma Graham-Harrison, ‘Taliban ban girls from secondary education in Afghanistan’ Guardian (London, 17 September 2021) accessed 15 November 2023. [13] Masoud Popalzai and Alex Stambaugh, ‘Taliban postpones return to school for Afghan girls above 6th grade’ (CNN, 24 March 2022) accessed 15 November 2023. [14] Amnesty International. ‘Death In Slow Motion. Women And Girls Under Taliban Rule’ (2022) 22 accessed 15 November 2023. [15] Associated Press, ‘Taliban bar women from university education in Afghanistan’ (AP News, 21 December 2022) accessed 15 November 2023. [16] United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, ‘Afghanistan: Quality Education Must Be Equally Accessible to All, UN Experts Say’ (OHCHR, 20 March 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [17] Al Jazeera, ‘Taliban Ban on Women Has Forced UN into ‘Appalling Choice’’ Al Jazeera (11 April 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [18] Human Rights Watch, ‘Afghanistan’, in World Report 2023 accessed 15 November 2023. [19] Sima Bahous, ‘Statement: The Decree Barring Women in Afghanistan from Working in Non-Governmental Organizations Is Yet Another Stark Violation of Women’s Rights’ (UN Women, 27 December 2022) accessed 15 November 2023. [20] ‘Beauty Salons in Afghanistan Are Closing on Taliban Orders’ Al Jazeera (26 July 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [21] Human Rights Watch (n 18). [22] ibid; Heather Barr and Sahar Fetrat, ‘Afghans Call to #FreeHerFace—Campaign Opposes Taliban Forcing On-Air Female Journalists to Cover Faces’ (23 May 2022) accessed 15 November 2023. [23] Human Rights Watch (n 18). [24] ‘Human Rights in Afghanistan, 15 August 2021-15 June 2022’ (UNAMA, July 2022) accessed 15 November 2023. [25] ‘Situation of Afghan Women – Summary Report of country-wide women’s consultations’ (UN Women, June 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [26] Henrietta Fore, ‘Girls Increasingly at Risk of Child Marriage in Afghanistan’ (UNICEF, 12 November 2021) accessed 15 November 2023. [27] ‘Out of jobs, into poverty – the impact of the ban on Afghan women working in NGOs’ (UN Women, 13 January 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [28] ‘Human Rights in Afghanistan’ (n 24). [29] ‘Justice Denied: An Examination of the Legal and Judicial System in Taliban-Controlled Afghanistan’ (Rawadari, 19 June 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [30] Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, ‘Afghan women suffer extreme discrimination, restrictions and violence – Deputy High Commissioner’ (OHCHR, 19 June 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [31] Zahra Nader and Nargis Amini, ‘The Taliban Are Harming Afghan Women’s Health’ (Foreign Policy, 2 March 2022) accessed 15 November 2023. [32] Chantelle Lee, ‘What’s the Status of Healthcare for Women in Afghanistan Under the Taliban?’ (Frontline, 9 August 2022) accessed 15 November 2023. [33] Zahra Nader, Matin Mehrab, and Mahsa Elham, ‘‘Despair is settling in’: female suicides on rise in Taliban’s Afghanistan’ (Zan Times, 28 August 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [34] Human Rights Watch (n 18). [35] Wahida Amiri, ‘Women Protest and Power: Confronting the Taliban’ (Amnesty International, 7 March 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [36] ‘Afghanistan: Women Protesters Detail Taliban Abuse’ (Human Rights Watch, 20 October 2022) accessed 15 November 2023. [37] United Nations, ‘Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women’ (CEDAW) 1979, Article 7 accessed 15 November 2023. [38] International Court of Justice, ‘Basis for Jurisdiction’ accessed 15 November 2023. [39] International Court of Justice, ‘Treaties’ accessed 15 November 2023. [40] CEDAW (n 37) article 29. [41] ‘The situation in Afghanistan and its implications for international peace and security – Report of the Secretary-General’ (14 September 2022), paras 3, 15 accessed 15 November 2023. [42] International Law Commission, ‘Draft Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts’, Supplement No. 10 (A/56/10), chp.IV.E.1 (November 2001) accessed 15 November 2023. Of note, Afghanistan does not have a government in exile. [43] ‘Situation of human rights in Afghanistan, Report of the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights’ (11 September 2023) para 5 accessed 15 November 2023. [44] The legitimacy of a de facto government, such as the Taliban, in international legal actions like treaty withdrawal hinges on its recognition by other states and international organisations. Under the ‘principle of continuity of the State’ in international law, a new government inherits its predecessor’s treaty obligations, as the state remains the same legal entity despite changes in governance. For ratifying new treaties or withdrawing from existing ones, a de facto government requires substantial recognition, as highlighted in the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties (VCLT)—a codification of customary international law and state practice—which Afghanistan signed in 1969, however, it does not explicitly address the situation of de facto governments, leaving much to state practice and interpretation. The VCLT, particularly Articles 56, 67, and 70, sets out the conditions and procedures for treaty denunciation or withdrawal, necessitating formal written instruments or notifications, signed by recognised high-level state officials. Furthermore, as noted, the Taliban’s attempts to represent Afghanistan in the United Nations and other bodies, have been met with reject, and representatives of the previous Afghan government continue to hold Afghanistan’s seats in most international forums. Where the Taliban has engaged in various domestic and bilateral agreements, have not equated to the formal process of ratifying (or withdrawing) from international treaties under international law. The few courts to consider agreements between states and non-state, armed actors have tended to find them not binding under international law. See Beatrice Walton, ‘The U.S.-Taliban Agreement: Not a Ceasefire, or a Peace Agreement, and Other International Law Issues’, (Just Security, 19 March 2020) accessed 15 November 2023. For instance, the Special Court of Sierra Leone Appeals Chamber held in Prosecutor v. Kallon and Kamara that an agreement between the Government of Sierra Leone and the Revolutionary United Front was not a treaty because it was concluded with a non-state entity. Thus, without widespread recognition, the Taliban authorities lack the authority to withdraw from Afghanistan’s state treaties, including CEDAW, but remain obligated to fulfil their provisions. [45] Questions relating to the Obligation to Prosecute or Extradite (Belgium v. Senegal), Judgment, I.C.J. Reports 2012 (II), p. 449, para. 68; Barcelona Traction, Light and Power Company, Limited (New Application: 1962) (Belgium v. Spain), Second Phase, Judgment, I.C.J. Reports 1970, p. 32, para. 33. [46] CEDAW (n 37) article 2. See also United Nations, ‘Report of the Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women’, 18th-19th sessions, 1998, UN Doc. A/53/38/Rev.1, at p. 49, para. 16 [hereinafter UN, CEDAW Report 18-19]; see also Patricia Shulz, Ruth Halperin-Kaddari, Beate Rudolf & Marsha A. Freeman, ‘The UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women and its Optional Protocol’ (2d ed 2022), at p. 63 (‘the core goal of the Convention … [is] to eliminate discrimination against women’) [hereinafter Shultz et. al, CEDAW and its Optional Protocol]. [47] The UN General Assembly has deferred deciding whether to accredit the Taliban’s choice of Ambassador to the United Nations, leaving in place the prior Afghanistan administration’s Ambassador; see Michelle Nichols, ‘U.N. shelves bid by Afghan Taliban, Myanmar junta for representation’ (Reuters, 16 December 2022) accessed 15 November 2023. [48] Catherine Amirfar, Romain Zamour, and Duncan Pickard, ‘Representation of Member States at the United Nations: Recent Challenges’ (2022) 26(6) ASIL Insights accessed 15 November 2023. [49] Kate Bateman et al, ‘Taliban Seek Recognition, But Offer Few Concessions to International Concerns’ (United States Institute of Peace, 28 September 2021) accessed 15 November 2023; ‘Afghan women ban makes Taliban recognition near ‘impossible’: UN’ Al Jazeera (22 June 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [50] Oral arguments, Minutes of the Public sittings held from 18 to 20 March and on 24 May 1980, United States Diplomatic and Consular Staff in Tehran (United States of America v. Iran) [1980] ICJ Pleadings 249. [51] South West Africa (Ethiopia v. South Africa) ICJ accessed 15 November 2023. [52] South West Africa (Liberia v. South Africa) ICJ accessed 15 November 2023. [53] Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (The Gambia v. Myanmar), Oral Proceedings, 21 February 2022, CR 2022/1 3. [54] See eg, Application of the International Convention for the Suppression of the Financing of Terrorism and of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (Ukraine v. Russian Federation) Order of 19 April 2017, Request for the indication of Provisional Measures, ICJ; Application of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (Qatar v. United Arab Emirates), Order of 23 July 2018, Request for the indication of provisional measures of Qatar, ICJ; Application of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (Armenia v. Azerbaijan), Order of 7 December 2021, Request for the indication of provisional measures, ICJ. [55] Allegations of Genocide under the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (Ukraine v. Russian Federation), Provisional Measures, Order of 16 March 2022. [56] Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide in the Gaza Strip (South Africa v. Israel), Provisional Measures, Order of 26 January 2024. [57] Matei Alexianu, ‘Provisional, but Not (Always) Pointless: Compliance with ICJ Provisional Measures’ (EJILtalk, 3 November 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [58] ICJ, ‘Press Release (No. 2024/14 )Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide in the Gaza Strip (South Africa v. Israel). Nicaragua requests permission to intervene in the proceedings under Article 62 of the Statute, 8 February 2024’ accessed 8 February 2024. [59] Maha Abdel Azim, ‘Saving Muslim Women, Scholar Lila Abu-Lughod on the real obstacles facing women in the Islamic World’ (The Cairo Review of Global Affairs, Winter 2016) accessed 27 February 2024. [60] CEDAW Committee, Information received by the Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women – Afghanistan (22 May 2023): ‘On 30 January, the Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) received the response from the de facto authorities in Afghanistan to its request dated 27 January 2022, for information on the situation of women and girls in Afghanistan since 15 August 2021’. Online at accessed 15 November 2023; Information sent by the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan (Ministry of Foreign Affairs Women’s International Affairs and Human Rights Department) accessed 15 November 2023. [61] ‘Feminist Foreign Policies: An Introduction’ (UN Women, September 2022) accessed 15 November 2023. [62] Antonia Mulvey and Terry Flyte, ‘Syrian Torture Victims Deserve a Hearing Before the ICJ’ (Just Security, 13 October 2023)  accessed 15 November 2023. [63] Farkhondeh Akbari ‘The Risks Facing Hazaras in Taliban-ruled Afghanistan’ (Nexus, 7 March 2022) accessed 16 November 2023. [64] ICJ Statute, article 59. [65] Erlend M Leonhardsen, ‘Trials of Ordeal in the International Court of Justice: Why States Seek Provisional Measures when non-Compliance Is to Be Expected’ (2014) 5 Journal of International Dispute Settlement 306–343. [66] ‘Developments in Gambia’s Case Against Myanmar at the International Court of Justice Questions and Answers’ (Human Rights Watch, 14 February 2022) accessed 15 November 2023. [67] The unrecognised Myanmar junta appears in The Gambia v. Myanmar, yet this has not furthered its recognition as Myanmar’s government. As discussed above, from a strictly legal standpoint, the Taliban’s appearance before the Court would not result in their formal recognition. [68] For example, the Syrian government did not participate in the oral arguments. See Mulvey and Flyte (n 62). [69] Syria Justice and Accountability Centre, ‘Q&A: Syria brought to the International Court of Justice’ (Syria Accountability, 20 July 2023) accessed 15 November 2023. [70] The Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) attempted to bring a case under CEDAW (among several other conventions) in Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (Democratic Republic of the Congo v. Rwanda), however, the Court found that the DRC never made any attempt to enter into negotiations or undertake arbitration proceedings with Rwanda concerning the application of Article 29 of the Convention, a required prerequisite, nor had it specified which rights protected by that Convention. See Order of 10 July 2002 Request for the Indication of Provisional Measures, para 79. [71] ‘Statement of the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court, Karim A. A. Khan QC, following the application for an expedited order under article 18(2) seeking authorisation to resume investigations in the Situation in Afghanistan’ (27 September 2021) accessed 15 November 2023. [72] In recent years, a few universal jurisdiction cases were brought on behalf of Afghan victims of international crimes in the Netherlands and Germany for abuses committed by officials prior to the Taliban’s rise to power in the 1990s. For details, see TRIAL International, ‘Universal Jurisdiction Database’ accessed 15 November 2023. [73] ‘While the time frame for certain written proceedings may be relatively lengthy in view of the time required by the participating states for the preparation of their pleadings, it should be noted that, on average, despite the complexity of the cases involved, the period between the conclusion of the oral proceedings and the delivery of a judgement by the Court does not exceed six months’. ‘Report of the International Court of Justice 1 August 2022-31 July 2023, General Assembly’ para 11  accessed 15 November 2023.

Wassim Hassan is a Syrian political activist. He is a member of the The Syrian Women's Political Movement and the Mouatana Movement, a group of Syrian democratic secular activists who devote their time to bringing the truth to Syrians through literature, media, and legal analysis on how they can change the political sphere in Syria. They aim to present the facts without affiliation to religious, nationalist, or leftist ideologies. Wassim has risked his safety on multiple occasions to stand up against the tyranny of the Syrian regime. He currently resides in the Netherlands after having to leave Syria due to the many threats on his life and to protect the safety of his family. CJLPA: Welcome, Mr Wassim Hassan. I’d like to begin by thanking you for taking the time to come and interview with The Cambridge Journal of Law, Politics, and Art to discuss your story as a political activist and human rights fighter. Freedom of expression and democracy have been foreign concepts in Syria for the last 60 years, with one family controlling all aspects of government, education, military, and natural resources. Anyone with an opposing ideology to the regime is often persecuted in an improper justice system. Having spent a majority of your life living in Damascus, what influenced you to get into politics having known the risks this may have on your life and your family’s life? Wassim Hassan: The deteriorating human rights conditions; the high levels of injustice; the absence of justice, freedom of expression, and participation in opinion; and the absence of equality and job opportunities force an oppressed person to enter the world of politics, especially after reading world history. The ancient and contemporary history of Syria prompted me to reject and denounce the reality of life in Syria, which is based on dictatorship, corruption, and criminality by an exclusionary mafia regime that exploits, plunders, practises atrocities, accumulates sectarian hatreds, discriminates between the people of the country, and invests in media propaganda. Slogans such as ‘resistance to imperialism, Israel, socialism, and freedom’ are used in order to perpetuate his rule and abolish the simplest mechanisms for practising democracy, such as the peaceful transfer of power and freedom of choice, expression, and media. This regime has abolished the independence of the legislative, judicial, and executive authorities, which passed over Syria for a short period in the 1950s, during the end of the colonial era. The absence of rights, fairness of opportunity, and the right to expression and criticism prompted me to take an emotional and moral stand against this oppression and corruption, pushing me into the furnace of working in public affairs. Politics was forbidden to opponents except in basements and prison cells, so secret work was the only potential means of activism, and this is what I followed from the eighties until the mid-nineties as a member of the Arab Revolutionary Workers Party. After the invasion of Kuwait and the failure of the party, like other parties of the National Democratic Assembly, I left politics and got busy in my own engineering work and devoted myself to the affairs of my family and my daughters who came to the life of the nascent family, until the popular Intifada in March 2011. I ended up leaving all my successful engineering work to be in the right place among the people in confronting the corrupt junta and within the movement of the rising street for democracy and political change in Syria. CJLPA: Can you tell us of times where your activism has risked your or any of your colleagues’ lives? WH: My comrades were subjected to frequent arrest campaigns as a result of their secular, democratic political position and their opinion opposing the approach of Hafez al-Assad and the alliance he engineered in the ‘National Progressive Front’, where he gathered wings from leftist and nationalist parties loyal to his authority. Most of my comrades were subjected to incarcerations ranging from four to 26 years in the prisons of the authority. Later some of them were arrested and imprisoned in the detention centres of the heir, Bashar al-Assad, for up to six years. During the uprising, my comrades were also subjected to many violations, such as abuse, forced disappearance, and liquidation in detention centres. Most of my comrades (95%) are in the prison cells of the authorities, and some of them were kidnapped in the prisons of extremist factions and gangs, which were later produced by corruption and the security vacuum. Since the 1980s, I have personally been exposed to security questions from the Syrian secret police. In addition to my opposition to the current regime, my refusal to join the ruling Baath Party led me to be deprived of many job opportunities in advanced positions that were offered to me at the head of the engineering institutions where I worked. Then, because of my secular position during the revolution, I was kidnapped by members of al-Nusra Front in the countryside of Damascus for three weeks, during which I was subjected to severe physical and psychological methods of torture, death threats, and ransom demands, until I was able to escape with the help of one of my colleagues who was kidnapped with me, through a very complex operation. CJLPA: You are a member of the Mouatana Movement, a party looking to establish a secular democratic system within Syria. Can you please tell us more about your party’s ideology and policies? WH: We are a group of secular democratic activists under the name ‘Mouatana Movement’. Our liberal movement and political line is characterised by political realism and the avoidance of intimidation and exaggerations in its proposition. We practise internal democracy in a horizontal organisation in which there is no leader or leaders, but a collective leadership elected in periodic conferences. We seek through our literature, our publications, through websites, and media to analyse reality without affiliation of religious, nationalist, or leftist ideologies. We have made a detailed criticism of the main lies spread among the elites and by the groups of Syrians mobilised with ideology and delusions that distort reality to serve their ideas. The Mouatana Movement has entered and contributed to building several political alliances, including the ‘Syrian National Coalition for Revolutionary and Opposition Forces’, but we soon left it in 2017, for political reasons that we clarified in our departure letter. We also conducted a comprehensive critical review of our intellectual line, our role, and our discourse in our periodic conferences that try to build policies and present inspiring studies for a generation of change in Syria. We do this through political editorials on our website and through a political forum that hosts actors and active personalities to discuss the situation and provide the appropriate vision and analysis. CJLPA: Can you touch on the importance of establishing a system that removes any religious influence in a diverse country like Syria? WH: During my activism in the secular democracy, in general, and in work for the Syrian women’s political movement with many activists, we sought to spread the ideology of freedom and respect to others with a difference in opinion and by supporting marginalised groups and minorities in any field or level. Therefore this means supporting diversity, uniqueness, creativity and pluralism; preventing the domination of one group over the masses; preventing the monopoly of power control; and confronting oppression and dictatorship; and pushing for the achievement of equal citizenship and social justice; with respect for different religions, beliefs, and individual and collective choices within a democratic state through decentralisation, dominated by citizenship, the law, the independence of the judiciary, the media, and the freedom to establish organisations, unions, and parties as contemporary secular democratic systems. Regarding your question about the importance of establishing a system that removes any religious influence in a diverse country, it is known that the Syrian society is multi-sectarian and ethnically diverse, and is predominantly Muslim. Therefore, it would not be possible to remove the influence of religion in society or completely cancel its influence through a decentralised democratic administration which the authority submits to a monolithic and exclusionary religious vision. Instead we rather the establishment of a state that respects all religious visions. The secular democratic state that we seek will not be an authority hostile to religions, but rather take a neutral approach towards beliefs; protect the freedom of religion; and prevent the oppression of any group over the rest, governed by law, equal citizenship, and equal opportunities. CJLPA: Many young Syrians are not familiar with the oppression and atrocities that occurred under Hafez al-Assad due to the lack of transparent reporting at that time. Having experienced life under Hafez al-Assad, how would you describe the life of Syrians under Hafez al-Assad’s rule to people who are unaware? WH: Hafez al-Assad seized power after his coup against his comrades in power and the leadership of the Baath Party on 16 November 1970. With his comrades, the members of the previous government he dissolved were imprisoned in Mezzeh prison in Damascus for more than a quarter of a century. He pursued new policies characterised by hidden sectarian fanaticism. His rule aroused the ire of the Muslim Brotherhood, which, around 1976, in turn began assassination operations against Alawites and those close to the regime, carried out by extremists from the ‘Fighting Vanguard’, such as the massacre of Alawite students at the Military College in Aleppo in 1979, and the Azbakeya massacre in Damascus. This raised the level of mobilisation and incitement against them. Hafez al-Assad’s regime, in cooperation with his brother Rifaat and his officers, carried out many massacres, including in Jisr al-Shughur and Aleppo, and concluded them in Hama in 1982, in which thousands of civilians were killed, many of whom were innocent and not at all involved in the Muslim Brotherhood. The number of Islamist detainees in the famous Tadmor prison reached more than ten thousand, alongside the almost eight thousand liquidated on different occasions. The nationalist and leftist parties that did not accept joining his mock front were also pursued by the coalition that al-Assad formed in 1974 to absorb the political workers and tame them with temptations and some formal roles, and present the democratic appearance of government, even if only formally. Those who rejected this alliance were imprisoned, including the new left, especially the Labor Party. The campaigns of arrests did not stop from 1976-1992, affecting most of the cadres and activists, and Palmyra desert prison was filled with them. Sednaya prison was subsequently established to accommodate thousands of prisoners of conscience. It also continued to track down activists and individuals and prevent gatherings and organisations under the blows of the emergency law that ruled the country. With the Baath’s takeover of power in 1963, political life in the country was completely desertified, opportunities for expression and freedom of the press were completely absent, and authoritarian and canned media prevailed without taste, colour, or smell, until the death of the tyrant Hafez al-Assad in the year 2000. CJLPA: After the death of Hafez al-Assad in 2000, his son, Bashar al-Assad, took power and advertised himself as a reformist bringing change to Syria’s political system. What changes did Bashar al-Assad promise to make in regard to the Syrian government and were any of them ever enforced? WH: Things had been arranged for the transfer of power without obstacles, as the People’s Assembly (parliament) held an emergency and urgent session, so the decision was taken to jump the son Bashar into five major military ranks, to become a first lieutenant general and commander of the army. The council unanimously amended the constitution with an article related to the age of the candidate for the presidency, making it 34 years old. The so-called Sham Ballot was held without competitors. Within the articles of the constitution detailed by al-Assad, the Baath Party was the leading party of the state and society, and the candidate of that leading party is not allowed to compete with anyone, who is of course in our case the heir, Bashar. In his swearing-in speech on 17 July 2000, Bashar al-Assad made many promises, and began issuing frequent decrees suggesting the start of a new phase of modernization and development. For two years, living conditions improved slightly as intended, and some leniency appeared in the security forces’ grip on the population, but soon the situation returned to its previous state, following the US-British invasion of Iraq and the fall of Saddam Hussein in 2003, and after the assassination of Rafic Hariri in 2005 and Security Council Resolution 1559 to remove the Syrian forces from Lebanon, where confusion and fear prevailed in the ranks of the authority, with the defections and liquidations that took place (such as the defection of Vice President Abdel Halim Khaddam and the death of Interior Minister Ghazi Kanaan and several officers involved in the Hariri assassination). The security forces’ grip was tightened, and the opponents who signed the ‘Damascus for Democratic Change Declaration’ document were persecuted and closed the door to the activities of forums and committees to revive civil society, which had flourished after the oath speech mentioned above. The Bashar al-Assad regime was able to evade the consequences of the International Tribunal for the assassination of Rafic Hariri, and the tribunal continued ineffectively, despite the crimes the regime committed against the Syrians over the years of the Syrian revolution since 2011, on top of which was the crime of using chemical weapons against opposition sites. In his famous speech a few days after its outbreak, al-Assad described that as a global conspiracy, comparing the rising opponents with germs that must be cleansed: ‘If they want it to be a war, then it will be’. The sectarian and Iranian militias, and later the Russian forces in 2015, did not hesitate to bomb cities and urban areas with barrels and chemical weapons. In an interesting statement by Mustafa Tlass, a senior colleague of Hafez al-Assad, he says: ‘The fall of this regime requires a change in the form of the global system, because Hafez al-Assad has woven his regime into the fabric of the global system’. This raises a question about the nature of Assad’s authority and its functional role within the region and the global system after the end of the non-aligned system and the Soviet bloc, and the exploitation of the role of the military regimes leaping to power through coups, the role that Assad mastered and succeeded in playing, moving between the ropes of the Russians and the West. This constituted a guarantee for him to continue in the most complex international transformations and so far at least he has been successful, especially if we add the influence of Islamophobia and the Islamic awakening, and the fear of the development of the role of extremist political Islamic organisations in the era of the ‘Arab Spring’. CJLPA: Hama faced one of the biggest massacres under the rule of the then-President Hafez al-Assad. The military force commanded by Rifaat al-Assad entered the city of Hama and conducted a series of bombing on buildings with civilian inhabitants. The government’s justification for their ‘military operations’ was the need to eliminate the Muslim Brotherhood, having a disregard for any of the civilian casualties it took to get to that goal. Tens of thousands of casualties occurred, but due to the lack of reliable reporting at the time, the incident did not receive much coverage on a national or international basis. Can you please touch on the power of state propaganda in Syria, and how they have taken advantage of religious extremism to paint themselves as the ‘good guys’ or the ‘best option in Syria?’ WH: Religious extremism is not confined to Syria and the Assad regime. It is religious fanaticism based on the legacies of the old authorities throughout the periods of caliphate and Islamic rule in the region, but it has exacerbated since the decline of the nationalist tide and later the leftism and the rise of the Islamic awakening. Enthusiasm for this awakening was increased by the victory of Khomeini in his ‘Islamic revolution’ in Iran in 1979 and the possibility of realising the dream of its sisters. We witnessed a remarkable development in the religious, especially Wahhabi and radical, organisations and their multiplication, leading to the phenomenon of Osama bin Laden and al-Qaeda and provoking international responses, especially from America and Russia. Hafez al-Assad’s regime, like other international intelligence agencies, soon picked up on this to invest in the Islamic Awakening organisations. By virtue of the closeness of Assad’s authority and its understanding of this violent ideological environment, it was able to confront certain aspects and exploit others. Assad and his media excelled in demonising the popular movement in Syria since the first hours of the uprising. It was a choice for the extremist Islamists who struck terror among civilians in the West of Syria, while his regime and the mullahs’ regime in Iran and their militias did not attack in the cities of the West of Syria and played it cunningly. Better the devil you know, as they say. The regime’s exploitation of the vertical division in Syrian society and the fear of minorities from the discourse of Sunni extremism, which began to spread on important media platforms such as al-Jazeera, Orient, and other sectarian channels and social media, prompted Christians and Druze to join the Alawites in their fears, and rally behind the regime’s masterful use of the propaganda of ‘opposition and resistance’. He was able to isolate, besiege, bombard, and destroy Sunni cities and displace their people under the pretext of confronting terrorist gangs. CJLPA: Can you provide us with examples of how this playbook was used by Bashar al-Assad in the 2011 uprisings? WH: Although the Syrian popular uprising presented general national concerns and did not rely on Islamic slogans at the outset, it was quickly exploited by the Islamic organisations formed in recent decades, whose role appeared since the first months, as important bombings and assassinations were carried out by al-Nusra Front. The role of al-Qaeda escalated after the Islamic State’s invasion of Iraq’s Mosul to Raqqa in Syria, and the Islamic factions grew like mushrooms following the support of the Gulf countries and their peoples for this phenomenon (Jaysh al-Islam, Ahrar al-Sham, Ahrar al-Sunna, and so on). It was not only the will of the Syrian intelligence behind this proliferation. The Islamic factions played the worst roles in the Syrian revolution and contributed to the exclusion of the other in their rhetoric and performance and their demonization of democracy, patriotism, and secularism. CJLPA: In 2011, Syrians began to protest the government after decades of oppressive rule. This was one of the biggest acts of protest ever recorded in modern Syrian history. The Syrian government reacted with violence and by arresting the people involved in orchestrating the protests. What was your reaction when you knew that protests were taking place all around the major Syrian cities? WH: The Syrians yearning for freedom were watching the ‘Arab Spring’ uprisings taking place in Tunisia and Egypt and then Libya and Yemen with great passion, and I was following the developments hour by hour, until the Syrian street moved in Damascus in the Hamidiyah market and in Daraa, the cradle of the revolution. I rushed to meet my old friends from political activists and we started by the founding of the ‘Mouatana Movement’; I was one of its activists dreaming of a new Syria. We met and discussed what to do and how to contribute to what was happening. Those were days full of fervour and vivid dreams when the barrier of fear was broken and the door to becoming in the country opened again after it had been locked away by Assad and the Baath for decades. I participated with activists in the Sahnaya region in the Damascus countryside, taking every opportunity for demonstrations and sit-ins in the Damascus countryside, in al-Qadam, Darayya, al-Asali, Barzeh, Harasta, Douma, al-Qaboun, and Jdeidet Artouz. Soon, the demonstrations expanded and became every Friday. The Islamic discourse began to appear, so my activity focused during that period on participating in the demonstrations of As-Suwayda and contributing to them with many activists in Jabal al-Arab. This was done in the squares of Shula, al-Fukhar, Tishreen, al-Sir in As-Suwayda, and in the streets and squares of Shahba and al-Qurayyah. At that time, Fella of the mountain activists called upon us to participate in the Free Army in the Sultan al-Atrash Brigade, which was led by the martyr, Khaldoun Zain al-Din, an officer who defected from al-Assad’s army. Later, with the escalation of the whistle of bullets and the decline of the voice of demonstrations, the armed Men of Dignity Movement emerged in the mountain. It hastened, with the fans of free and patriotic discourse behind it, away from the sectarian entrenchment that the regime and some religious Druze sought to corner it in. I worked as a political advisor to the leader of the movement from 2013-2015, the young Sheikh Waheed al-Balous, who put forward the political project that I worked on. The project worked on spreading his call with activists (the National Peace Initiative from As-Suwayda) and calling for a comprehensive national solution in Jabal al-Arab, more specifically in the town of al-Qurayya, the cradle of the national symbol Sultan al-Atrash. It would host a Syrian conference inclusive of all the parties to the Syrian conflict, which was turning into a complex civil war between Syrians (Sunnis-Alawites and minorities), provided that the conference be independent and under the auspices and protection of the Men of Dignity (perhaps the Druze who played a patriotic role in the establishment of Syria during the days of Sultan al-Atrash). The regime faced this by blowing up the convoy of the leader of the Men of Dignity (Waheed al-Balous) and his comrades with two large explosions in As-Suwayda. With the assassination, it almost destroyed that promising attempt. During that period I was in a media course for the Citizen Movement in Gaziantep, Turkey, followed by a family visit to my daughter Razan, who was studying at a university in Istanbul at that time. I felt the difficulty of my return to Syria, where the Assad intelligence services were waiting for me at the airport, and made the decision to take refuge in Europe, where I live today. CJLPA: With Syrians having access to social media sites, everyone in Syria who had an opposing ideology had the freedom to express it. How much of a role did social media play in the spread of the protests? WH: There is no doubt that the means of communication contributed to the spread of news, the interaction of people, the exchange of messages, the participation in planning and organisation, and the speed of exchanging information. However, at the same time social media deluded a wide segment of the rising youth regarding their superiority, so they had some arrogance, and were thus not communicating with and benefiting from the wisdom of the older generations, who were more experienced with the nature of this brutal power. The young generation, with the rapid assimilation of new technologies, developed a feeling of fullness and contributed to an unfavourable rupture between young people and the previous generation, which was negatively reflected in the form and nature of the movement later on. CJLPA: The violent reaction of the regime led to a brutal civil war that took the lives of thousands of Syrians and displaced millions around the world. Throughout the modern civil war, the Syrian regime committed a vast amount of war crimes by continuously using chemical weapons on civilian targets. What were your experiences living in Syria throughout the war? WH: It became increasingly clear to me that the fall of the regime was not possible with the tools used in the past decade. The vertical division was great in the country, and the Alawite sect, alongside other sectarian minorities, were lined up strongly around power. This contradicts the statements of many that all the Syrian people revolted against Bashar al-Assad, and this should be corrected, as it is not enough for the opponents to repeat their desires and dreams, without realising the realities on the ground. On the basis of the existing sectarian division, the regime would not have fallen, as most of us dreamed, even if the army of Islam entered Damascus. Bashar al-Assad’s army would have gone to base itself with his supporters in Latakia and Tartous, and regained support from his allies later to attack those who outweighed him in other cities. One of the additional reasons for the inability of the opposition to achieve a decisive victory was the absence of military and political unity, not achieved at any stage since 2011, despite the contributions of the countries of the region and the West to bring together the Syrian factions and forces, in preparation for negotiations that can be conducted with the authority or with its representatives. Many members of the Syrian opposition brazenly deny the reality of the support provided by the West to the Syrian revolution and accuse the West of negligence. Indeed, many consider the West supportive of the Assad regime, explaining what happened in terms of military and political interventions of the Russians, Iranians, and Turks, by American, French, and perhaps Israeli orders to maintain the continuity of their protégé, Bashar al-Assad, in in a series of conspiratorial interpretations of what is going on. These narratives unfairly deny and twist the facts. As for the sanctions, they did not achieve a significant response from the tyrannical authorities that they were applied to in North Korea, Saddam’s Iraq’s, and Gaddafi’s Libya, where the authorities continue to oppress and increase the crushing of popular groups, in many cases under the pretext of those sanctions. Here originates the heavy blame on the West and the Americans, especially because their contribution to supporting the movement of the Syrian people and their just cause did not live up to the desired level as democratic governments and societies. The Americans only intervene when their interests are threatened and not for principled positions in support of democracy and for the sake of the peoples in the ‘Third World’, as they claim. Without military pressure, we will not have negotiations advancing, and there is no real military pressure on the authority of Damascus, which has benefited from its Russian and Iranian allies more than the Syrian people have benefited from their friends and allies. An exclusionary extremist no less tyrannical than Assad’s sectarian authority, unless the West seriously contributes to developing and bringing the democratic team in opposition and the loyalists to work together to save the country from the domination of the military and sheikhs. I still believe that the Baathists—with all my observations on their exclusionary and corrupt behaviour—are included in the rhetoric of opposition and resistance, and they have a serious desire for independence from the Russian and Iranian allies. Although the Baath has no significant role and the party does not support the Assad security authority in Damascus, Damascus is still in their view the ‘beating heart of Arabism’ and they want to play this role. This is not to say, as many opponents believe, that the Syrian authority is fallen, crumbling, and just a tool that lacks will and does not sustain anything. Rather, Assad’s authority has great strength and influence on the scene, and it is still dominant over decision-making and in all previous and current stages, despite the misery in the economic and living scene. What is the point of a disaster? The security and military authority is in his hands in Damascus, and it is not right to underestimate facts and twist their necks to pass illusions and lies. In conclusion, on the issue of accountability and justice, I believe that at the stage of calling for a political transition and a governing body that will include the two conflicting parties, justice cannot be achieved immediately—as agreed upon in accordance with international resolutions, for example—because the decision of the transitional government will be between hands that are unfortunately equally stained with blood. Justice will come later, after decades, if the fervour of struggle continues among legal and human rights organisations and institutions, as has happened in the experiences of other countries. With the chances of establishing the Islamic caliphate state substantially declining after the intervention of the international coalition and the Syrian Democratic Forces, ending the state of ISIS, which is the worst alternative, the Assad regime with its allies is still the most dangerous enemy for building democracy in Syria. We need today to reach a settlement that stops the bloodbath and launches the process of political transition, in which all parties from all categories—Syrians, Arabs, Kurds, Muslims, Christians, minorities, organisations, etc—will participate. Thus, we will end the phase of the Assad regime’s monopoly, stop the war, start rebuilding the country, and launch the process of community recovery. CJLPA: On an international level, how do you believe we can bring accountability and justice to the crimes committed, when countries like Russia and China constantly use their veto powers to stop any investigations from happening in Syria? WH: With this international polarisation between the world of tyrannical tyrants (Russia, China, Iran…) and the democratic world in the West, especially after Putin’s war on Ukraine, the United Nations and the UN Security Council are no longer able to control the organisation of conflict management and reduction. The exacerbation of corporate control, the escalation of climate disasters, and the weakness of international commitment are all further hindrances on effective action. The great impact on the Syrian issue was in terms of enthusiasm to end the suffering of the Syrians, and also regarding accountability and justice. The reality has increased the living suffering and exacerbated the plight of the refugees in the countries of the diaspora close to Syria, and the veto that the Russians will frequently use in the Security Council is still a major obstacle, whether in holding war criminals accountable or in getting out of the bottleneck in the Syrian issue. CJLPA: What do you think is the best course of action from within Syria? WH: It goes without saying that the Syrian issue no longer concerns Syrians only, as the region and the international situation are strongly concerned with what is happening on Syrian territory. Therefore, I can claim that the continuation of work and civil movement within the country is necessary to prevent the situation from sinking. We must keep the flame hot. The West remains extremely important in preventing Al-Jazzar’s rehabilitation and pushing the political transition process in accordance with the relevant international resolutions, most notably Resolution 2254. The policy of sanctions and slow death is no longer sufficient to destabilise the situation and push Assad’s arrogant authority to the negotiating table to make real concessions. Al-Assad’s authority still possesses some strength that prevents it from negotiating seriously with the opposition forces, whose negotiating and field power has begun to erode and decline. We need higher levels of force and pressure rather than just sanctions. The launch of the As-Suwayda uprising in August 2023, which continues with its peacefulness and which is carried by a bright face for the Syrians (despite their differences and diversity) has brought many democratic and secular slogans and the necessity of political transition in accordance with international resolutions. The uprisings in ‘Dignity Square’ wrote the alternative discourse that the Syrians deserve in order to build a homeland. It accommodates all Syrians and achieves peace, freedom, and political and economic transition for the country, away from wars and in harmony with its regional surroundings. Within it, Syria does not remain a chess pawn in the game of regional countries such as Iran and Turkey. The Syrian people, despite their ethnic and racial diversity, have the right to live in dignity in a homeland that has many resources and reasons for growth to build a neutral state. Recently, it has become clear that betting on a religious caliphate or tyrannical regimes has failed, and it has become necessary for the obscurantist, exclusionary de facto forces or tyrannical authorities to retreat in favour of democracy and diversity. It is important to build on the Suwayda movement internally in order to move against the de facto forces currently there and to bet on building a body of Syrian democratic opposition. It is not like those residing in exclusionary Islamist Turkey. Rather, we have to build a democratic opposition centred in Europe, where there is the right of expression and the possibility of adopting free and independent Syrian policies. The Berlin conference to build the ‘Syrian Democratic Alliance’ held in October 2023 was a step in this direction, as it brought together many people of the political and civil forces in one front, and it has become a duty for the democratic forces in the world to support this trend in action and not just through the media. CJLPA: Now we see many Arab nations turning a blind eye to these atrocities by normalising relations with the Syrian government. It seems that the current regime is not going to be leaving power any time soon. Can you please tell us the dangers of normalising relations with the Assad regime? WH: The project to rehabilitate al-Assad and normalise relations with his government before he submits to international resolutions is an additional disaster for the Syrian people. The solution in Syria is not the victory of any of the parties to the armed conflict, but rather the loss of all of them, in favour of a democratic, civil administration for the country with a project that brings together Syrians in a decentralised Syria for all Syrians, regardless of their plurality and diversity. Without the domination of the military or the Islamist extremists, and this is the least that the Syrians aspire to, it can open the horizons of the process in the country again. The continuation of Assad’s rule is nothing but a recipe for the continuation of tragedy, suffering, and death. CJLPA: One aim of the Syria segment in the Journal is to explore the challenges faced by refugees across the world in integrating in the countries they seek refuge in. We would like to ask you a few questions on the obstacles you faced integrating into the culture and lifestyle in the Netherlands. When did you decide to leave Syria and what was the sequence of events that led to your departure? Can you please touch on the challenges you faced in your journey leaving Syria? WH: Leaving the homeland is a personal loss that cannot be compensated for in any way, regardless of the degree of integration with new societies. Forcibly uprooting a person from his soil is a great personal tragedy. I went with my daughter Razan, facing, like all those who ride the sea in rubber boats on the way to Europe, severe threats to my life. This is what happened with our Syrian brothers who boarded the boat of the child Ilan, which sank on the shores of the Greek islands after sailing from the same point that we left the shores of Turkey. There is a great degree of manipulation; a large number of smugglers exploited and intimidated most of those wishing to leave by sea via Greece to Western Europe. The other challenge comes after obtaining residency as a refugee and a newcomer in a new country with a different language and culture, and with the continuation of the Syrian ordeal. One’s personality in the country of asylum is divided between the path of self-building, learning the new language and integrating, and attachment to one’s family in war-torn Syria, continuing to hear about every violation or deterioration and the war crimes that frequently happened to my family and the country. There is no doubt that the Netherlands offers an advanced package of services to newcomers, and this is the point of my appreciation and respect. Here we learned a lot, thanks to programs to support refugees and ensure they are living in dignity. We were allowed to exercise the right of expression and choice that we were denied so much in Syria, and later granted citizenship—available for those who wish after five years of residency—which paved the way for education and work. This added to our awareness and experience and will also have important role in the return of generations of Syrians, endowed with competencies and a human horizon that will contribute a lot to Syria. CJLPA: You have continuously fought for the human rights of Syrians even after your departure from Syria. What is a piece of advice you would like to give to young Syrians around the world that are looking to make a change in their country? WH: The great destitution and lack of human rights in Syria and its Arab and Islamic surroundings remains the main cause of the unrest there, and the first engine for the movement of young men and women. Therefore, the demands and uprisings will not stop, regardless of the cause of oppression and terrorism, such as the suppression and silencing of free voices. Here arises the role of the Syrian youth in the diaspora around the world to support their country. Syria is filled with ideas, money, and works that rekindle the movement for a democratic Syria for all, similar to the modern countries of the world. Our alienation in Europe taught us a lot about respect for difference and acceptance of diversity and human rights. We learned a lot through the decentralisation of its municipal governments, which ensures correcting mistakes and continuous progress according to the needs of each municipality. The benefits of elections and the importance of voting in them, the importance of political programs for candidates, development plans, the development and improvement of facilities, overcoming mistakes, and addressing them in law. We learned that a politician is an employee to serve his country and among his citizens and not a master over slaves who tyrannises them, and the importance of dialogue between cultures and their convergence to serve man and humanity, instead of fanaticism. This interview was conducted by Nour Kachi, Legal Researcher on CJLPA's Special Edition, 'The Human Agenda'. In addition to his role at CJLPA, Nour is currently working on qualifying as a lawyer in the US and UK.

Gus John is an award-winning writer, education campaigner, and lecturer. His work spans the fields of education policy, management, and international development. Since the 1960s, John has been active in issues surrounding education and schooling in Britain’s inner cities, and he has worked in several universities including the University of Strathclyde in Glasgow, the UCL Institute of Education, the University of London, and Coventry University. He is a respected public speaker and media commentator, working both domestically and internationally as an executive coach and consultant. In 2018, a committee hosted a church service at Westminster Abbey, memorialising the 70th year of the arrival of the Empire Windrush. The service’s advertisement stated that ‘those arriving on the Windrush in June 1948 were seeking adventure’, as if, as John describes in his book, ‘they had collectively become bored on the plantations…and decided to head to Britain for “adventure”’.[1] In 2023, elaborate plans were made by the Windrush Anchor Foundation to retrieve the Empire Windrush anchor from the bottom of the ocean and restore it as a national monument. The following interview addresses Gus John’s thoughts on the matter. CJLPA: Professor Gus John, thank you very much for being here today. You have recently published two incredible books, Blazing Trails and Don’t Salvage the Empire Windrush, both of which have stirred up quite the conversation in the UK. As today we will be discussing the latter, could you please begin by telling us a little bit about your background and what prompted you to write Don’t Salvage the Empire Windrush? Gus John: Thank you very much for having me. Well, I was born in Grenada in the Eastern Caribbean and I came to the UK in 1964 to study theology at Oxford. It soon dawned on me, however, that I couldn't have been further away from the gospel, particularly in terms of the Catholic Church’s role in imperialism and colonialism. I had some dogmatic conflicts with the church as an establishment, so I became a Marxist and left! I, instead, got heavily involved with the Black communities in Oxford as children were seeing some pretty hard days in the schooling system. Children who had parents from Jamaica were particularly affected because they were speaking the Jamaican language (patois) which the education system did not classify as a language. Those children were being made to feel that they were imbeciles, so I tried to ensure that Caribbean children received their entitlements to quality education. In 1966 I joined with some parents and students, including some students from Oxford, and we started the first Black supplementary school in Cowley Road, Oxford. We ran homework classes for young children and we were giving them an understanding of themselves and an understanding of what was going on around them, even what was happening to other Black people around the world. We had to build communities of resistance to systemic racism, marginalisation, and social eugenics practices—practices that were being used to train teachers to have low expectations of Black children. We had to actively resist these practices and basically mobilise Black parents to defend their children’s right to quality education. Since then, I have been very active in building communities of resistance and Don’t Salvage the Empire Windrush is an extension of that work. CJLPA: The name Windrush holds a deep-seated significance in the UK, yet anyone who speaks of or hears it conceptualises Windrush differently. What would you say is the common Windrush narrative and what are the implications of that narrative for those a part of or descendant of the Windrush generation? GJ: Most people refer to Windrush but they do not refer to the Empire Windrush. The Empire Windrush is the actual name of the ship that a group of Caribbean people boarded in Jamaica in 1948, which later docked in England. The name Empire Windrush was given to a ship that used to belong to the German navy. The ship was called the Monte Rosa and between 1939 to 1945 it was used by the Nazi regime to transport troops from one part of Europe to another. When Britain took its spoils of war after World War II, it also took ships, hence the Monte Rosa became the Empire Windrush. After the war, the Empire Windrush was used to transport demobilised soldiers from the Caribbean back to their homes as it did in 1947 when it made a trip to and from the Caribbean. This 1947 trip, however, is a trip that nobody talks about. Before 1948, there were at least 500 ex-soldiers who had been demobilised and returned to the Caribbean from Britain. Along with the Empire Windrush, there were two other ships—the Ormonde and the Almanzora—that had made that trip to and from the Caribbean to transport these soldiers. In 1948, the Empire Windrush was coming back from the Caribbean and it had loads of empty space. Figures quote that there was space for 1027 people. When the boat got to Jamaica, they put out advertisements stating that colonial subjects should come to Britain via a one-way ticket for 28 pounds. This prompted many people, not just from Jamaica, to scrape the money together—a lot of money in those days—and board the boat. Among the passengers was a man named Samuel Beaver King, who had been in the Royal Air Force during the war and wanted to go back to Britain. King did not like the conditions he was returned to in Jamaica—lots of poverty and worker unrest. The British colonial administrators in Jamaica were being very brutal in putting down worker uprisings and King was sure that he did not want to raise his children in a colony. But then, King also had a rather peculiar notion of making the Empire Windrush as iconic as the Mayflower. If he had any understanding of the Mayflower, what it was, where it came from, and what it has done in Virginia, he would not have wanted to make the Empire Windrush as iconic. Yet, in any event, King began collecting the names and addresses of the 500 or so people on the Empire Windrush to begin a narrative. Now there is nothing wrong with King collecting these names and wanting to make the Empire Windrush like the Mayflower, but he and the subsequent Windrush narrative had no right to suggest that their arrival on that boat represented a new chapter in terms of Black people within Britain. Additionally, the Windrush narrative does not focus on the fact that these people were coming from the colonies to the United Kingdom. They had a history, a colonial history, prior to that ship. And frankly, all this glorified talk about coming to the ‘mother country’ to help rebuild after the Second World War is a lot of romanticised nonsense. Why these people were having to leave the Caribbean and why they had to leave Britain after the Second World War to be transported back to the Caribbean was because of Britain’s history with racism. Britain has an impervious past which is why we as Caribbean people ended up in the Caribbean in the first place. The true native peoples of the Caribbean were brutally exterminated and those areas were later populated by our ancestors who were brought there forcibly in the hulls of some stinking slave ships. We were made to work as shackled labour. That’s where the story of Windrush began and people tend to forget that. There is this notion that these Caribbean people came to Britain because they answered the call, but there was never any such call. There were material conditions of their existence that prompted them to get on that boat. Well, correction, at one point Britain’s labour recruitment people did reach out to the Caribbean. London Transport needed lots of workers because in the 1950s white workers were striking for better wages and working conditions. The strikes were crippling the whole system so the higher-ups were determined to go abroad and find labour to break those strikes. No one acknowledges that those Caribbean people who were brought in as labour were used as tools to break strikes—no, these people are seen as patriotic citizens of the United Kingdom coming to support the country. And it is interesting that if there had been a greater degree of class collaboration between white workers in this country and workers across the Caribbean then the situation could have been very different, but it was in the best interest of the British government to put racism at the forefront of people’s minds. The British elites made every conceivable effort to break whatever links were being developed between the trade union movement here in Britain and in the Caribbean. It was politically convenient for Britain to cast us as ‘dark strangers’. In other words, the conflation of race and immigration was a deliberate policy on the part of successive governments. All of this culminated into a misconstrued Windrush narrative that ignores the history of the people who came, detracts attention from the ghastly things the [British government] is doing in the name of immigration, and neglects the realities that were and are faced, not just by Caribbean people, but various racial and ethnic groups in the UK. CJLPA: I do not want to take for granted what was taught in the Caribbean as our history versus what was taught in the UK of Caribbean history. Could you please explain why Britain was considered the ‘mother country’ for those boarding the ship, as opposed to the Caribbean countries that they were leaving behind or the countries in Africa from which their ancestors were taken? GJ: Colonialism was immensely successful. The notion that Britain was the mother country was a notion that Britain itself encouraged. There was an erasure of African spirituality, African languages, African cuisine, and African belief systems for the superimposition of Christianity. I, for one, grew up on a diet of Jane Austen, Edgar Allan, Poe, WE Johns, Shelley, Keats, Wordsworth and all of those people. I only discovered Caribbean literature when I came to Britain—George Lamming, Sylvia Wynter, and CLR James. Those people were quite extraordinary and it opened my eyes so bright, but unfortunately when you are totally imbued with this kind of colonial ideology you learn to believe that the only value you have is what somebody else confers upon you. People were nurtured to become Black British, really. When we’re talking about being part of the United Kingdom and its colonies, it really is about seeing Britain implant itself in those places. Slave owners were running plantations, determining who lived and died. They were extracting wealth and sending most of it back to Britain. We were being taught, not with materials from Africa or Asia after our so-called emancipation, but with materials from Britain. That type of behaviour was very, very British. After all these years, people are still enthralled by British colonialism because they are told that they are supposed to be stupid. So, if you are successful, that is a matter of celebration because you’re not supposed to be bright and successful. Let’s remember that there emerged a class of Black middle-class people who were aping the white middle-class and had no respect whatsoever for ordinary Black working people. It’s still the case now, people are so enthralled with becoming part of British high society. It reminds me how I was joking with a friend a couple of weeks ago about these people who are wanting to rescue and retrieve the Empire Windrush anchor to jazz it up so that it becomes some major national icon. What I would love to do is salvage and restore the entire ship. Let the government give them some £50,000 or even £100,000 and stick them back on that ship to take them back to the plantations because that is where many of them seem to be headed. CJLPA: Correct me if I am wrong in saying that Windrush is used as a kind of wall, where in front of the wall stands the common narrative of trailblazers happily coming to help the ‘mother country’ and behind that wall are all the histories and atrocities that do not get told or are strategically buried. If this is the case, what are some of the things that people need to know about what is behind that wall to set the Windrush narrative straight? GJ: Yes, well first it is ridiculous to suggest that the 500 or so passengers on that boat were the only ones to have a drastic impact on the UK when there were other boats that came en masse between 1949-1960.  In fact, in 1962 when the British government enacted the Commonwealth Immigration Act to restrict immigration, there was a spike in numbers from around 56,000 people in 1961 to 125,000 people in 1962, all travelling to the UK to try and beat the immigration ban. Thus, it was not just the 500 people from the Empire Windrush who had to fight off racism and the government, and they were not the only ones to change the political landscape of the UK. It was hundreds of thousands of people. Furthermore, when the Empire Windrush or any other boat came, they were not coming to an all-white society. There were many Black and Brown people who had already settled here by 1900 and to say that Windrush was the beginning of Black people settling in Britain is ahistorical, nonsensical, and colonial. There are also many people who believe that the only people who come from the Caribbean are those of African extraction. So, in places like Trinidad and Guyana where 50% of the population are descended from South Asian indentured labourers, these people are never taken into account in the Windrush narrative. It is also preposterous to say that the few Caribbeans on the Empire Windrush rebuilt Britain considering the economic contributions of people from South Asia, West Africa, and the Far East. They too have been subjected to brutal and restrictive immigration policies but they never get mentioned. We, unfortunately, share a common experience of the vilest racism within this country—two nasty, brutal, murderous trends. One was Paki Bashing, where people who looked like they were from Pakistan, irrespective of where they may have come from, would have their homes incinerated, petrol thrown on their belongings, and excrement put in their letter boxes. The second was Nigger Hunting where police stations in Black communities would nonchalantly announce that ‘we’re going nigger hunting tonight’. All of that is within the lifetime of the government spreading a Windrush narrative that celebrates the ‘trailblazers’ but ceases to recognize the wrongs that these trailblazers faced or the wrongs that many other races and ethnicities have faced. The government gives £100,000 for Windrush Day yet our elders are still being killed because their medication has been removed and they can't go to the doctor because they have been told by the Home Office that they are not documented. All of these things continue to happen around us. CJLPA: In your book, you speak of the erection of a monument in Waterloo Station that is to symbolise a family gallantly making the journey on the Empire Windrush. This monument shows a mother, father, and their daughter coming together, however, in your book, you state that this is a very false representation. Why? GJ: That monument plays into the mythology and does not accommodate the reality. To put it bluntly, it’s too tidy. The monument depicts a nuclear family with a sense of security going out into a welcoming, hospitable environment but the reality could not have been worse for these people. That journey and their arrival was steeped in loss, mental distress, and racism that was completely shocking to the passengers. The level of discrimination they faced in housing, in employment, as they walked the street was ghastly. This treatment of Black people led to the major riots in West London in 1958. Then to crown it all, in 1959 Kelso Cochrane, an Antiguan carpenter who had damaged his hand at work, had gone to the hospital to get patched up, left to go home and was set upon by white racists and killed. Being Caribbean, we had this view of Britain as a place of sophistication, so no one could believe that they could be walking down the street and be killed for the colour of their skin. Moreover, people did not often come with their children or as a nuclear family—they often came by themselves or took along other people's children who could afford to send them. This is one of the reasons why in this hostile environment, there have been so many people who found it difficult to prove who they were when they came. It is because thousands of them did not come with their biological parents. The Empire Windrush journey was not a tidy transition from A to B as that very romantic monument tries to depict. CJLPA: What I hear you saying is that the Windrush narrative is an erasure of histories and truth similar to other colonial narratives. But it can also be used as a tool to divide as it did with white and Black workers in the onset, and how it separates Black Caribbeans from Africans, Asians, and even Asian populations from the Caribbean. Do you believe that these divisions are intentionally done to impede us from acknowledging our common struggles and acting collectively? GJ: I believe it is intentional and what I find alarming is that there are so many young people who are genuinely struggling with their identity in this country. This is not helped by further divisions. Let me give an example of what I mean. Recently on this Black and Asian Studies Association platform, I had to take issue with one doctor who was advertising an online course run by somebody from the United States. It was about children, schools, upbringing, and identity formation and what alarmed me was towards the end of this advertisement, there was a line saying ‘strictly African families only’, and in brackets it says, ‘only people who have high melanin compositions’. I thought to myself what on earth is this? In the education charity I run, we are as much concerned with mixed heritage children being excluded from school as we are about Black children, particularly Black boys. Quite a number of those Black children have white mothers so what good does it do to discuss Black children’s identity formation when the white parents of those Black children have no place there? Over 55% of Caribbean males have white partners and over 39% of Caribbean women have the same. The largest growing group within society are mixed heritage children. The demography of Britain suggests that if these barriers are not broken down, if we don’t support white, Asian, Caribbean, African, and mixed heritage children of the global majority working together across ethnic, class, racial, and sexuality divides then there will be horrors to come. CJLPA: Thank you so much Professor Gus John, I just have one more question for you. What do you see for the future of our society? GJ: Deep down, I wish I could be hopeful, but I’m not so sure. People are very reluctant to call out systemic racism for what it is. They believe that by demonstrating patriotism to King and Country they stand a better chance of getting on in this country, but I also believe and hope that that is just a generational thing. More and more people accept these things uncritically but they need to understand how stupid and ahistorical it all is. If I had the resources, I would want to start a movement in the country that imagines democratic participation other than these established parties. While the government tries to recruit more and more of our people into their ranks—ie the growing Black middle class—we need to assemble the young people of every race and ethnicity to have some serious conversations about the state of the nation. About what all of that means for their generation. We have to find another way and equip young people to believe that there can be another way. CJLPA: Thank you very much again for joining us today Professor Gus John, your insights were magnificent. GJ: You are very kind, thank you for having me. This interview was conducted by Donari Yahzid. Donari is a Fulbright Scholar and graduate of the University of Cambridge with an MPhil in Development Studies. In addition to working as an editor for the CJLPA, Donari is a researcher working within the intersections of social movements, land rights, and international development. [1] Gus John, Don’t Salvage the Empire Windrush (New Beacon Books 2023) 4.