Monday, January 30, 2017

The Danger of Trump's Holocaust Remembrance Message

It is now clear that the White House intentionally and deliberately did not identify the groups targeted by the Holocaust in last Friday's statement on International Holocaust Remembrance Day. According to the New York Times, Chief of Staff Reince Preibus said this: '“I mean, everyone’s suffering in the Holocaust including obviously, all of the Jewish people affected and the miserable genocide that occurred — it’s something that we consider to be extraordinarily sad. He added: "If we could wipe it off of the history books, we would. But we can't."'
"Everyone's suffering in the Holocaust." It may seem like that's a good sentiment, but it's actually a potentially dangerous one, and I want you to understand why I think that.
Not "everyone" suffered in the Holocaust. Not even everyone in Germany, or occupied Poland or France suffered in the Holocaust. There were consequences of war for everyone, but not everyone was targeted and not everyone suffered in the Holocaust. We should separate out the war from the Holocaust, because they are not fully synonymous. The war was the invasion; it was the attempt to take over control of Europe. And as a consequence of that control, you also had the Holocaust, which was "the systematic, bureaucratic, state-sponsored persecution and murder of six million Jews by the Nazi regime and its collaborators."
The Holocaust was the Nazi's "final solution to the Jewish question." The camps -- sometimes called "concentration" camps, but more appropriately called "extermination camps" -- were used to burn people alive, or to gas them to death.
The extermination camps were used not just for Jews but also for Roma, Slavs, homosexuals, those considered to have mental deficiencies, and others. Generally, political opponents were not sent to the extermination camps. Commonly, they were sent to slave-labour camps and prison camps, often known as concentration camps, which were awful and inhumane but the purpose of the concentration camp was not to secure death. The individual opponents of the Nazis -- those who were sent to camps for their political views rather than their social identification -- were not send to be killed as a group.
The extermination camps -- the means and method of delivering the Holocaust; the gas chambers and cremetoria that were designed for the purpose of killing large groups of people at one time -- that was for the Jews and other targeted groups. Not for Jewish people, but for the Jews. This distinction is important because the reason someone was sent to the extermination camps was generally not about them, their actions, opinions, or beliefs. It was about the group to which they belonged.
In the Holocaust, only certain people were targeted, and they were targeted for greater suffering than the average person; a suffering that was intentionally and decidedly cruel because they were deemed subhuman, less than, and "other." But they were targeted specifically because of their identity. There was a systematic division of the society for the purpose of securing power and then exterminating these classes of people. Not just individuals but the whole of groups. The Holocaust was designed not to inflict suffering on individual Jewish people or "all of the Jewish people." It was designed to eliminate and annihilate the collective Jewish people and their identity. The consequences for the individuals were byproducts, not the intention of their death. That is why the Holocaust was not for Jewish people, but for the Jews.
I know I just said the same thing multiple different ways but that is because it's fundamentally important you understand that to follow what I'm going to say now.
One of the ways to change history is to ignore or downplay the purpose of a particular act. This becomes a particularly effective tool if what you want to change is the lsson to be learnt from that point of history -- if what you want to do, in Preibus' words, is to "wipe [a particular part of history] off of the history books."
We have seen this already with the American Civil War. Immediately following the Civil War, there was a consensus regarding what the Civil War was about: slavery. I know some of you are shaking your head already, but I'm not debating with you about what the Civil War was about; I'm telling you a historical fact that during and immediately following the Civil War, the consensus was that the cause of the Civil War was slavery (download that pamphlet before it disappears). You can see this also by referring to the declarations of secession that the Confederate States issued. Mississippi's said
“Our position is thoroughly identified with the institution of slavery — the greatest material interest of the world.” 
As others have written about, during the antebellum era it was Northern states that attempted to protect "state's rights" over federal intervention. Northern states tried to resist having to enforce federal law that prioritized slave-owner's rights over the slaves' rights.
But, depending on where and when you grew up, you probably learned that the "real" cause of the Civil War was Southern states' commitment to "state's rights" (conveniently skimming over that the right was to hold another individual in slavery).
The change in how we understand the cause of the Civil War was a deliberate move by leaders from the South. By suggesting that "everyone" suffered during the War, they could eliminate discussion of the fact that some -- slaves -- suffered before and during the war in a fundamentally particular war. They then targeted the identity of who was a "true" American. Since those in the South no longer perpetrated a particularly egregious act (slavery), then the concept of who a "true" American is changed. President Andrew Jackson was one of the more prominent members of the Southern leadership to assert publicly that:
“This is a country for white men, and by God, as long as I am President, it shall be a government for white men.”
With this sentiment, the victims of the past, targeted for their identities, are eliminated from the future solutions. The victims of the past that matter are no longer slaves, or even black people, but now suddenly white men.
The introduction of Jim Crow laws then solidified the transformation of the Southern understanding of the Civil War. Now, the victims were again victimized, in a different manner, and kept from accessing power. Those with power were able to isolate and oppress the victims.
And the lesson to be learned from the Civil War no longer had anything to do with slavery, or the rights of those who had been enslaved. The lesson to be learned was the ahistorical one about "states' rights." The lesson became: you can't force states to do what the federal government wants and demands -- i.e., adopt civil rights measures and eliminate discrimination -- without potentially causing a new, significant clash. The interests of the minority -- in this new retelling by the Southern states -- has a place in standing up against the majority -- in this case, the oppressive federal government.
All of this is the consequence, not accidentally either, of changing the narrative of what the cause of the Civil War was.
With Trump's elimination of Jews from the narrative of the Holocaust, with the intentional and deliberate use of 'everyone's suffering," the Trump administration is beginning the process of changing the US narrative about the Holocaust. It will not be the targeting of Jews as a group, but rather individuals, that was the sad consequence of the Holocaust.
And one group did not suffer as a result of the Holocaust; everyone, all "innocent people" as the original statement said, suffered.
And once you change the historical narrative, you can change the lesson of the Holocaust.
Now, we need not defend groups of people -- i.e., Muslims or Syrians -- we need only focus on the individuals.
Again, it sounds like a nice sentiment. But if a group is being targeted because it is a group, the individual members are not protected solely by their individual status. Jewish people were not able to escape the Holocaust by pleading with camp guards about the goodness of their intentions and lives.
More importantly, by telling people to focus on the individual rather than the group, there is a potential to get people to miss the forest for the trees. Let me tell you a brief story: a former boss of mine when I waited tables told me that if he wanted to fire anyone in the company, he could find a legitimate reason to do so, particularly in a company where our employment was generally "at will" so he didn't need a good reason to fire the person, he just needed the absence of a bad reason. I asked him why he would be able to fire me. "The way you tie your apron." I was aghast. I tied my apron the same way all the other waiters and waitresses tied their aprons: I wrapped the apron strings around my waist and tied a little bow in the front, right above the apron's pockets. If we tied the bow in the back, the apron strings became loose as we walked, and the apron would often fall down while I was carrying a large and heavy tray.
But, according to the company manual, the apron was to be tied in the back. It didn't matter that the apron was rather useless for its purpose -- and potentially dangerous -- if we tied it in the back. It mattered that the company liked the look of that apron being tied in the back. Now, by this point in my waitressing career (which would not last much longer) I had waited on every manager in the region. One of the three stores I served at for this company was the place where all the managers met for once a month meetings. Not just individual store managers, either -- the regional heads up all the way to lower company Vice Presidents came to our store on a regular basis. Because I was good at my job (and, let's be honest, because I was a 20 y/o, thin white female with a cute bum who smiled regularly at them and followed store regulations) I was often asked to serve that group.
Not once had anyone commented on how I tied the apron. Yet, if the manager wanted to fire me, he could've done so for a "uniform violation." On its own, that's not a particularly huge problem. It would suck for me, but it's not a social issue. But if he wanted to fire all the brunettes in the store, he could do that. Or if he wanted to fire all the black people who worked for the store, he could do.
Addressing those individuals as individuals -- convincing an attorney or judge to assess their firing based on the individual and not their group identity -- does away with the pattern. The individual can be faulted because they didn't follow the uniform's code. And individually, one by one, the hypothetical black people he just fired lose any chance at showing that their firing was unfair and unjust. There is no pattern of injustice, because there is no identity based on which to assess the pattern.
So how does this relate to Trump? If you want to target a group of people in the US -- say, Muslims or Latinos -- an important first step is to change the narrative of the Holocaust, and any other historical moment that points to the fact that people are sometimes targeted for their identity; targeted as a group not as an individual.
The potential of this very subtle change has not been lost on those paying attention to how this administration treats minority groups, perhaps because it came at the same time as the #MuslimBan. But, it's something the rest of the population needs to push back against as well. Not "everyone" suffered in the Holocaust. Jews, Roma, LGBTQ, and the disabled suffered in the Holocaust. They were targeted as groups for their suffering. Everyone suffered in the war, but not everyone suffered in the Holocaust. It is important that we remember that individuals were killed, but it was groups that were targeted and exterminated in the Holocaust. Do not forget that. Never forget that. Because the moment you do, the moment you accept the Trump statement as a "good" thing is the moment that our current vulnerable minority groups become even more vulnerable.

Picture from the UK's National Holocaust Centre and Museum 





Wednesday, January 25, 2017

Remembering Nigel Rodley

This post is being published both here and at my business and human rights blog, taravanho.blogspot.com.

I am still processing the news of this loss, but it appears Professor Sir Nigel Rodley, KBE, has passed away. There will be many more tributes to Nigel in the days to come, but I hope he will be remembered not just as an eminent scholar but as a good teacher.

I did my LLM dissertation under Nigel's supervision. We developed the topic in December after he gave a lecture on torture and the US legal approach at Guantanamo Bay, and for most of the thesis, it was an unremarkable working relationship with someone I deeply admired and enjoyed talking to, even if I remained intimidated by him long after it was warranted.

(*Lest my American friends think I got the terminology wrong, I'm using UK terminology here.)

There are two stories from that time, however, that stand out. I'm only prepared to share one publicly now (the other, which is more embarrassing for me I tell to my own students & mentees when they freak out about their work):

I disagree with Nigel on the importance of severity in the definition of torture. By September 2009 – when I was to hand in the dissertation – I had known this for a few months but had not yet spoken to him about it. This disagreement was weighing on me, in part because I wanted a good mark and – like many students do – I feared that disagreeing with someone of his stature could be taken as either insolence or inaccuracy and affect my result.

About a week before the paper was due, I ended up seated across from Nigel at an end-of-year dinner my class put on. I felt this was a good opportunity to sound him out, so I gathered my courage and said:

“Nigel, I have a bit of an issue I want to discuss. I kind of disagree with Manfred Nowak on part of the definition of torture.”

I said I gathered my courage. I didn’t say I had a lot of courage at that moment.

He leaned forward. “Really, my dear. I tend to agree with Manfred. What do you disagree with him about?”

“Well, I disagree with him on the issue of severity.”

He looked at me for a second and said, “Oh, well, yes, I do agree with Manfred on that.”

I blushed. “I know. I just didn't think it was polite to tell you to your face that I disagree with you.”

He leaned back and shook his head just slightly. “No, my dear. You are now at a point in your career where you should feel free to disagree with anyone in this field, so long as you do so with logic and have good references to back you up. So, tell me your thoughts.”

I laid out my case, to which he said, “Well, yes, you have a lot of support in that. As long you provide adequate references, you should feel free to embrace that position.”

We talked a little longer about that issue specifically, my dissertation generally, and about my career trajectory. I don't remember all of what was said, but that part of the conversation – the idea that I had a right to disagree with someone of Nigel’s stature so long as I laid out my case with logic and adequate references – has stuck with me.

Obviously, not every human rights academic embraces Nigel's humility and I have, on rare occasions, found myself disappointed upon meeting a name I have cited and admired only to realize they aren’t the quite as gracious as I’d come to expect after working with the likes of Nigel and Kevin Boyle and Francoise Hampson and Sheldon Leader.

Nigel’s words continue to inform how I conduct myself. One of the (weirder) compliments I often get is that people are glad I am present for meetings and workshops because I tend to ask good questions and provide good feedback. That is the result, I think, of knowing that I belong in the room. I don’t ask questions or give comments for the sake of getting my name known in part because Nigel (and separately and in different ways, Kevin, Francoise, Sheldon, Clara, Sabine, Lorna, Andrew, Geoff, etc…) imparted in me a belief that my opinion mattered regardless of my title or lack thereof. At the same time, that opinion comes with a responsibility to be careful and ensure it is well-informed and given only when relevant and when it adds something to the conversation.

It is a lesson I hope I impart on my own students. 

I have so many other memories with Nigel from my PhD and after -- I visited him to discuss my ideas, and in the final year, he would step on as my committee chair, bringing one more informed and opinionated voice into the very robust discussions my supervisors and I routinely "enjoyed." 

But, it is that LLM dissertation story that I always come back to with Nigel. And it's one that I think he appreciated as well. 

About 18 months ago, he asked me to co-edit a book on human rights institutions and enforcement (that process is ongoing). One of the byproducts was that I could easily persuade Nigel to come to Aarhus last September for a conference we hosted on the 50th anniversary of the ICCPR and ICESCR. I chaired his panel (which also featured the wonderful Janelle Diller). When I introduced him, I shared this story. I sort of sprang it on him actually, knowing that if I told him in advance what I was to say he would insist on a slightly less generous introduction. And sure enough, Nigel, being Nigel, ended up a bit flustered at the start of his talk. He regained composure, but it struck me how often I had seen him blush at compliments I assume were rather routine for him. Confidence balanced with humility. That's a pretty rare quality. 

Separately at that conference, I reminded him of the other, more embarrassing story as well. It was clear from his reaction that he also preferred the one I've shared here. I think that humility and generosity is how he hoped to be remembered, and it is what so many of us are thinking about today.

My friend (and mentor) ClaraSandoval, Director of the Essex Human Rights Centre, called Nigel a “brilliant and unpretentious colleague, an inspiring and generous human being and a wonderful mentor and friend.”

There will be many tributes coming out for Nigel in the next few days, but I think Clara’s will remain the most apt.

RIP Nigel, and thank you.

I borrowed this picture of an Essex Human Rights Center end-of-year party from my former flatmate and friend, Rukamanee Maharjan. Nigel's in the first row, seated far left. I am in the second or third row (depending on how you count), about 5 people from the right. I believe this was the year that Nigel and I tried - unsuccessfully - to work out how Todd Landman's magic tricks work.