Journal articles on the topic 'Social justice – Rwanda'

For the past twenty years, the overriding story of Rwanda has been centred around the events and consequences of the genocide. In Rwanda, public expressions of that story have occurred in the gacaca courts, where survivors and perpetrators testified about their experiences and actions, during ongoing annual remembrance and mourning commemorations, and in memorial sites across the country that act as physical reminders of the genocide. While important as mechanisms for justice, testimony, and commemoration, on their own such events and installations also have the potential to re-traumatise. Accordingly, Rwandan agencies have encouraged a focus on the future as the overarching theme of recent national commemorations. Yet, opportunities for Rwandans to recount and disseminate positive, future-oriented stories of survival and healing remain sparse. Creation and awareness of positive stories have the potential to assist in recovery by increasing feelings of hope and efficacy; and recent research has demonstrated the value of hopefulness, well-being, and social support for vulnerable people. The Messages of Hope program seeks to leverage those ideas into a framework for generating positive messages by Rwandan survivors, providing an opportunity for everyday Rwandans to record and transmit their own positive stories of survival to demonstrate recovery and growth after the genocide, and to reinforce connectedness by sharing their challenges and aspirations. We describe the development and early implementation of this initiative and its potential longer-term application in other contexts of vulnerability.

ABSTRACTIn this article, I argue that the praise of legal and political analysts who perceive Rwanda'sgacacacourts as a model of locally grounded and culturally relevant transitional justice is unfounded without consideration of the broader power dynamics in which justice is delivered. Drawing on life history interviews with 37 Rwandan peasants resident in the south-west of the country, I argue that the claims of the Rwandan government that itsgacacacourts are promoting peace and reconciliation must also assess the impact of local justice mechanisms on those subject to its demands, namely ordinary people. In the case of Rwanda'sgacacacourts, local-level analysis illuminates a darker and largely unexamined aspect of transitional justice – the playing out of local power dynamics and the social and political inequalities masked by the pursuit of justice and reconciliation. My study cautions against a wholesale endorsement of thegacacacourts as an effective and legitimate form of transitional justice. Instead, it is a mechanism of state power than works to reinforce the political power of the ruling RPF and to ply international audiences with the idea that Rwanda is ‘a nation rehabilitated’ from ‘the scourge of genocide’.

Since the 1994 Rwandan genocide, the current government has arrested approximately 130,000 civilians who were suspected of criminal responsibility. An estimated 2,000 were women, a cohort that remains rarely researched through an ethnographic lens. This article begins to address this oversight by analyzing ethnographic encounters with 8 confessed or convicted female génocidaires from around Rwanda. These encounters reveal that female génocidaires believe they endure gender-based discrimination for having violated taboos that determine appropriate conduct for Rwandan women. However, only female génocidaires with minimal education, wealth, and social capital referenced this gender-based discrimination to minimize their crimes and assert claims of victimization. Conversely, female elites who helped incite the genocide framed their victimization in terms of political betrayal and victor’s justice. This difference is likely informed by the female elites’ participation in the political processes that made the genocide possible, as well as historical precedence for leniency where female elites are concerned.

The article examines how reconciliation is perceived at the individual level. This particular case study analyses what types of reconciliation practices exist in Musha village and whether or not the inhabitants see it as effective ones. In an attempt to investigate the reconciliation definition from the local people’s perspective and to observe their community-level experiences, ethnographic fieldwork in Rwanda has been conducted. This study reveals that locals understand reconciliation in the same way as the government authorities proclaim. Data gathered during this field trip indicate the significance of reconciliation as controlled by the national government. As a consequence, the people are not able, and at the same time, are not really concerned about rethinking reconciliation in other possible ways. Furthermore, this concludes the fact that the central authorities have become able to peacefully construct the narrative of forced reconciliation, while social exclusion in the country still robustly prevails.

The purpose of this research was to study the interviewees’ experience of their reconciliation process and the influence of the Amataba Workshops on their healing process. Semi-structured qualitative interviews were conducted with five pairs ( N = 10) of Tutsi survivors of the Rwandan genocide and their perpetrators, members of the Hutu majority; they had all participated in an intervention to promote reconciliation. The Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis (IPA) method was chosen to study the transcripts. Analysis resulted in nine main relevant categories that should be taken into account while designing a reconciliation-oriented intervention, including truth, listening to each other, justice, repairing the damage, and collaboration on joint projects. The results of this research show how these processes can occur when reconciliation-oriented interventions are facilitated. For some interviewees, these workshops have become a crucial turning point and helped them set aside the hatred and pain.

Since 1994, the Rwandan government has attempted to remove the division of the population into the ‘ethnic’ identities Hutu, Tutsi and Twa and instead make the shared Rwandan identity salient. This paper explores how leaders justify the single recategorization model, based on nine in-depth semi-structured interviews with Rwandan national leaders (politicians and bureaucrats tasked with leading unity implementation) conducted in Rwanda over three months in 2011/2012. Thematic analysis revealed this was done through a meta-narrative focusing on the shared Rwandan identity. Three frames were found in use to “sell” this narrative where ethnic identities are presented as a) an alien construction; b) which was used to the disadvantage of the people; and c) non-essential social constructs. The material demonstrates the identity entrepreneurship behind the single recategorization approach: the definition of the category boundaries, the category content, and the strategies for controlling and overcoming alternative narratives. Rwandan identity is presented as essential and legitimate, and as offering a potential way for people to escape spoilt subordinate identities. The interviewed leaders insist Rwandans are all one, and that the single recategorization is the right path for Rwanda, but this approach has been criticised for increasing rather than decreasing intergroup conflict due to social identity threat. The Rwandan case offers a rare opportunity to explore leaders’ own narratives and framing of these ‘ethnic’ identities to justify the single recategorization approach.

Legal scholars and other social scientists agree that political violence comprising assaults on civil and political liberties may occur in the context of contentious politics. Unfortunately, there have been instances in history where such politics is marked by intermittent attacks against people's rights and freedoms. Such attacks occur when politics has gone sour, and there are times when the violence exceeds the bounds of what is acceptable. From the documented atrocities of Nazi Germany, the horrendous crimes of the regime of Slobodan Milosevic in the former Yugoslavia, the outrageous crimes perpetrated during the genocide in Rwanda, the shameful and despicable inhumanities inflicted on the people of Darfur in the Sudan, and the violence in post-electoral Kenya, to the bloodshed in areas like Mali, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, the Central African Republic, etc, violent conflict has punctuated world history. Added to this list of countries is Cameroon, which in the last quarter of 2016 degenerated into a hotspot of political violence in the English-speaking regions. The perpetration of political violence in Cameroon has raised serious questions that may be relevant not only to the resolution of the political problem that gave rise to the violence but also to laying the foundations of a post-conflict Cameroon that is united and honours the principles of truth, justice and reconciliation.
 This paper describes some of the salient occurrences of political violence in Cameroon and argues that the presence of specific elements elevates this violence to the level of a serious crime in international law. It is argued herein that crimes against humanity may have been committed during the state action against the Anglophones in Cameroon. It is also argued that the political character of the violence, added to the scale of the victimisation and its systematic and protracted nature, qualify Cameroon as a transitional society engaged in conflict that is in need of transitional justice.
 Reflecting on the extent of the suffering of the victims of such political violence, this paper discusses the function of the justice system in establishing the truth and holding the perpetrators accountable. Past instances of political violence in Cameroon have been glossed over, but in our opinion, healing a fragmented and disunited Cameroon with its history of grave violations of human rights requires that the perpetrators be held accountable, and that truth and justice should prevail. Such considerations should be factored into the legal and political architecture of a post-conflict, transitional Cameroon.
 

The last issue of 2013 consists of fourteen contributions dealing with a potpourri of topics. The first two articles are both by the same author. In the first one, André Louw addresses the recent, sometimes deplorable conduct of intellectual property (or IP) lawyers, and in the second one, André Louw explores the proper role and meaning of good faith (or bona fides) in contract law, and the approach of our courts to the application of this principle in individual cases involving claims of unfairness and the like. The third article, by Rufaro Mavunga, critically assesses the Minimum Age Convention 138 of 1973 and the Worst Forms of Child Labour Convention 182 of 1999. Nicholas Orago, in the fourth article, discusses socio-economic rights in Kenya and proposes that if the entrenched socio-economic rights are to achieve their transformative objectives, Kenyan courts must adopt a proportionality approach in the judicial adjudication of socio-economic rights disputes. The fifth article, by Oliver Fuo, explores and critically investigates the relevance and potential of integrated development planning in contributing towards the achievement of social justice in South Africa. Next, Michaela Young discusses the fate of informal fishers in the context of the Policy for the Small-Scale Fisheries Sector in South Africa. The second-last article, by Hermanus van der Merwe, provides a historical and teleological overview of the crime of direct and public incitement to commit genocide under international law, as well as the definitional elements thereof as interpreted and applied by the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, before he continues to examine it in contemporary South African law. The last article, by Chuma Himonga, Max Taylor and Anne Pope, explores the scope and content of the ever elusive concept of ubuntu, as pronounced on by the judiciary in various cases, and demonstrates that its fundamental elements of respect, communalism, conciliation and inclusiveness enhance the constitutional interpretation landscape.

Abstract Research has found that participation in transitional justice (TJ) is associated with increased social capital and decreased well-being. This article extends this scholarship by examining how TJ mechanisms affect the social capital and well-being of the people who implement them via interviews with 135 Rwandan gacaca court judges. In terms of well-being, judges discuss pride and confidence yet also highlight stress and trauma. In terms of social capital, many judges are now mediators and local leaders, though numerous judges have also experienced grudges from the families of those they sentenced. These negative consequences were particularly prominent among judges with more authority.

Interdisciplinary scholarship in violence and trauma studies suggest that a person’s interpretation of stressful events contours how the person will respond. It is through the two-part appraisal process that survivors determine how they will cope. This project utilizes an identity-based approach to demonstrate that survivors use group-based ideologies such as social class, geography, gender, sexuality, and, for some, race to appraise their accounts of violence, assess their coping strategies, and manage traumatic events. Using the cross-cultural accounts of 146 Black Ghanaian, South African, and Rwandan women rape survivors, the findings extend the appraisal approach by highlighting how survivors in this study utilized sexual morality tales to construct a variety of appraisal accounts to interpret their assaults and to justify their coping strategies. I call these appraisals opportunities, possibilities, limitations, and solidarities. These differing appraisals demonstrated that social milieu contours the psychological experience of violence and can engender both parallel and divergent interpretations across social class and cultural contexts. Last, the implications of these findings for comparative sexual assault studies, theories of traumatic coping, gender and development, and intersectionality are discussed.

Major theories of participation in genocides and mass killings offer seemingly opposing explanatory logics for how and why individuals come to commit violence. The long-standing consensus on “perpetrator ordinariness” contrasts with explanations that continue to highlight the prior, intensely held negative attitudes and beliefs about the victim group. I propose a theoretical reconciliation. Radicalization would be better theorized not only as an antecedent to the act of violence but also as a consequence of it. Killing transforms individuals. A well-established point in social psychology, not only do attitudes drive behaviors, but behaviors also shape attitudes. Some perpetrators dehumanize their victims, internalize exclusionary ideologies, and otherwise develop negative sentiments toward their victims following their participation in the violence. Attitudinal shift becomes a form of dissonance-reduction. Perpetrators come to espouse radical beliefs in order to justify their actions. This revised theorization has implications for our understanding of (1) perpetrator heterogeneity: individuals must vary in their vulnerability to radicalization, and (2) non-instrumental violence: why we often observe the infliction of gratuitous pain and suffering on victims. I re-interpret testimony of perpetrators from Rwanda, the Holocaust, Bosnia-Herzegovina, and Cambodia to support the article’s central theoretical proposition.

The government of Rwanda has pursued reconciliation with great determination in the belief that it is the only moral alternative to post-genocide social challenges. In Rwanda, communities must be mobilised and reshaped for social, political and economic reconstruction. This creates a rather delicate situation. Among other strategies, the state has turned to the concepts of confession and forgiveness which have deep religious roots, and systematised them both at the individual and community or state level in order to bring about reconciliation, justice, social cohesion and ultimately economic development. In view of these strategies and challenges, some of the important questions are: Does forgiveness restore victims and empower them to heal their communities? What empirical evidence exists that religiously inspired justice and reconciliation processes after mass political violence make a difference? In what areas might the understanding of religious thought and activity towards transitional justice be deepened? These questions provide the backdrop against which I examine the case of post-genocide Rwanda in this article. A hermeneutic interpretative analysis is used to situate the phenomena of forgiveness, confession and social transformation within the specific context of post-conflict societies.

Abstract This article examines Raoul Peck’s portrayal of post-genocide justice in Rwanda in his film Sometimes in April (2005). The film, which depicts the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi and its aftermath a decade later, resonates with the ICTR case Prosecutor v. Nahimana et al. with its focus on hate speech as genocide. The shared questions connect the two distinct narrative forms that are part of the global social discourse on Rwanda, allowing them to be analysed side by side. Building upon close readings, this article asks: Who is guilty and what counts as a crime? What kind of impact do justice mechanisms have? Whose interests does the ICTR serve? Extending interdisciplinary research on Rwanda across law and cultural studies, I argue that analysing Sometimes in April helps unearth ambiguities within and surrounding the ICTR. Peck’s film and the legal case together communicate a rounded understanding of post-genocide justice to outside audiences, as it is experienced or perceived from local and international perspectives.

The 1994 Rwanda genocide is one of the worst human catastrophes to have befallen mankind since World War II. The genocide left over 800 000 people dead, 1.7 million displaced, 400 000 widowed, and 130 000 arrested on suspicion of committing acts of genocide. The consequences of this genocide are still felt today. Despite the fact that the causes of this genocide were apparent, no commendable steps were taken by the international community, in particular the United Nations, to avert it. Having established that ‘genocide and other systematic, widespread and flagrant violations of international humanitarian law committed in Rwanda constituted a threat to international peace and security’ the UN adopted Resolution 955 which established the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR). The ICTR was largely inspired by the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY), a similar institution established for bringing those responsible for similar atrocities committed in the former Yugoslavia to justice. The ICTR has been largely criticised for taking too long when trying to dispose of the cases before it. At an international level, it is said that many funds are being spent on the ICTR without showing any results. These criticisms do not take the logistical, political and social challenges faced by the ICTR into account. At the time of its establishment, the ICTR faced mainly infrastructural challenges, thus it took almost three years for the ICTR to decide its first case. Most of its time was spent on putting an ICTR facility with three chambers in place. The wide-ranging criticisms tend to overshadow the achievements of the ICTR, which are highlighted in this paper.

In the framework of the community participation in conservation in Rwanda, a women handcraft cooperative was established in 2011 in the surrounding of Nyungwe National Park in Kitabi sector and Nyamagabe District. It aimed to empower economically and socially wives of former hunters who were themselves relying on natural resources and involved in harvesting different resources in park for making handcraft products. The empowerment was intended to reduce the reliance to natural resources and to contribute to the protection of the park. The objective of the study was to investigate and examine women’s experiences about their empowerment through environmental justice, in terms of distributive and procedural justice and challenges faced by women. In doing so, participants were purposively selected in women handicraft cooperative and in administration bodies. With regards to data collection and analysis, semi-structured interviews and content analysis were used. The findings showed that women are socially and economically empowered. In terms of economic empowerment, access to financial loans, savings, employment and income generating projects are the major indicators of the empowerment. Improved capacity building and family relations are major concerns of social handcraft cooperative members. Regarding the participation of women in decision-making process, the findings are controversial. However, it is still limited because of the dominance of top-down approach that does not consider enough women’s voices and suggestions in decision making. Cooperative women members perceive and consider the process of communication and decision-making as passive because they are almost absent in the monitoring and evaluation processes. The participation of the community members including women only appears through meetings with or without elected representatives. The process of women empowerment is still limited by some challenges such as crop raiding, complicated and slow compensation process, high interest rate and slow process of loan and inadequate communication. The partnership approach is then recommended so as to consider women’s needs and voices in the implementation of natural resources conservation policies.

Education is a corner stone for the social, economic, cultural and political development of any society. This research articulates the impact of Higher Education in the process of peacebuilding and violence free coexistence of post 9/11 context in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KPK) prior and after Federally Administered Tribal Area (FATA) amalgamation. The study critically reviews the educational structure, policies, emphasis, application of educational goals, achievements from rural to Higher education and protecting measures enabling the youth to get easy access to education. Since the creation of Pakistan emphasis laid down on the free and compulsory education for all but failed to address the nascent challenges surfaced in the form of violent extremism, sectarianism, intolerance, and lingual discrepancies. Although the literacy rate has been increased with the passage of time but the quality of education and practical application remains under darkness. The study has analyzed the role of higher education for community development, peace building in post conflicted areas such as Bosnia, Rwanda, Sudan, and Spain with the adoption of global approaches of stabilization, state-building, and civic training. But does this happen in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa? It has been established through empirical analyses that the framework of higher education has lain dormant and beyond the limits of easy access for the man in the street. The higher education role has been ignored in peace building and reconstruction era. This research in its findings proposes that the structure and curriculum of higher education be revisited and expanded promptly in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KPK) particularly within the newly merged areas for the restoration of social justice, cultural diversity, educational growth, state-building and peacebuilding community.

Abstract In the wake of the 1994 genocide, Rwanda’s government created the Gacaca courts to hold suspected perpetrators accountable. Although much has been written about these courts, researchers know comparatively less about the 250,000 individuals who served as Gacaca court judges (inyangamugayo). We draw upon 135 interviews to explore how the inyangamugayo entered and adapted to their new public roles as moral arbiters, how these judges understood Gacaca’s missions, and how their social identities evolved over the course of multiple status transitions. Building on Erving Goffman’s sequential approach to moral careers, we trace the process of becoming a judge. In doing so, we highlight the two overarching missions that surfaced during the interviews – justice and reconciliation – and how the judges continued to view themselves as inyangamugayo even after the courts closed.

Abstract Background Justification of intimate partner violence (IPV) is one of the critical factors that account for the high prevalence of IPV among women. In this study, we examined the association between exposure to interparental violence and IPV justification among women in sexual unions in sub-Saharan Africa (SSA). Methods Data for this study were obtained from the most recent Demographic and Health Surveys (DHS) of 26 countries in SSA conducted between 2010 and 2020. A total of 112,953 women in sexual unions were included in this study. A multivariable binary logistic regression analysis was carried out. The results of the regression analysis were presented using crude odds ratios (cOR) and adjusted odds ratios (aOR) with their respective 95% confidence intervals (CIs). Results The prevalence of interparental violence in the countries considered in this study was 23.8%, with the highest (40.8%) and lowest (4.9%) in Burundi and Comoros, respectively. IPV justification was 45.8%, with the highest and lowest prevalence in Mali (80.9%) and South Africa (4.6%) respectively. Women who were exposed to interparental violence were more likely to justify IPV compared to those who were not exposed [aOR = 1.53, 95% CI = 1.47–1.59]. We found higher odds of justification of IPV among women who were exposed to interparental violence compared to those who were not exposed in all the countries, except Burkina Faso, Comoros, Gambia, and Rwanda. Conclusion The findings call for several strategies for addressing interparental violence. These may include empowerment services targeting both men and women, formation of stronger social networks to improve women’s self-confidence, and the provision of evidence-based information and resources at the community level. These interventions should pay critical attention to young people exposed to interparental violence. Public health education and messaging should emphasise on the negative health and social implications of interparental violence and IPV.


 
 
 In July 2005, while European heads of state attended memorials to mark the ten year anniversary of the Srebrenica genocide and court trials continued in The Hague at the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY), Bosnian-American artist Aida Sehovic presented the aftermath of this genocide on a day-to-day level through her art installation in memory of the victims of Srebrenica.
 
 Drawing on the Bosnian tradition of coming together for coffee, this installation, ‘Što te Nema?’ (Why are you not here?), comprised a collection of tiny white porcelain cups (‘fildzans’ in Bosnian) arranged in the geographic shape of Srebrenica in the lobby of the United Nations building in New York. It was to represent Europe’s worst mass killing since the Second World War, which took place in July 1995 in the Bosnian town of Srebrenica. Up to 8,000 Bosnian Muslim (Bosniak) men and boys were killed when Bosnian Serb troops overran the internationally protected enclave (The Guardian). 
 
 The cups were gathered from Bosnian families in the United States of America and Bosnia & Herzegovina, and in particular from members of ‘Zene Srebrenice’ (‘the women of Srebrenica’). Each of the 1,705 cups represented one exhumed, identified and re-buried victim of the Srebrenica genocide (1,705 at July 2005). The cups were filled either with coffee or, in the case of victims not yet 18 and therefore not old enough at the time of their death to have participated in the coffee tradition, with sugar cubes. The names and birth dates of the victims were recited on an audio loop. 
 
 Genocide is the methodical destruction of the existence of a people. It is noted through the ‘UN Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide’ that genocide has inflicted great losses on humanity throughout history (UNHCHR). Tribunals, such as the ICTY, with their focus on justice, are formal and responsibility-based modes of responding to genocide. Society seeks justice, but raising awareness around genocide through the telling and hearing of the individual story is also required. Responding to genocide and communicating its existence through artistic expression has been a valuable way of bearing witness to such a horrendous and immense crime against humanity. 
 
 Art can address the gaps in healing and understanding that cannot be addressed through tribunals. From Picasso’s ‘Guernica’, to the children’s pictures triggered by the Rwandan genocide, to the ‘War Rugs’ of Afghanistan and to vast installations such as Peter Eisenman’s recently opened Holocaust memorial in Berlin; art has proved a powerful medium for representing such atrocities and attempting to find healing after genocide. 
 
 Artworks such as Sehovic’s ‘Što te Nema?’ give insight into the personal experience of genocide while challenging indifference and maintaining memory. For the affected communities, this addresses the impact on individuals; the human cost and the loss of everyday experiences. As Srebrenica survivor Emir Suljagic comments, “when you tell someone that 10,000 people died, they cannot understand or imagine that. What I want to say is that these people were peasants, car mechanics or masons. That they had daughters, mothers, that they leave someone behind; that a lot of people are hurt by this person’s death” (qtd. in Vulliamy).
 
 ‘Što te Nema?’ transmits this personal dimension of genocide by using an everyday situation of showing hospitality with family and friends, which is familiar and practised in most cultural experiences, juxtaposed with the loss of a family member who is missing as a result of genocide. This transmits the notion of genocide into the sphere of common experience, attachment and emotion. It acts as an invitation to explore the impact of genocide beyond the impersonal statistics and the aloof legalese of the courtroom drama. 
 
 Beyond providing a representation of the facts or emotions around genocide, art provides a way of responding to a crime, which, by its nature, is generally difficult to comprehend. Art can offer a mode of giving testimony and providing catharsis about events which are not easily approached or discussed. As Sehovic says of ‘Što te Nema?’ (it) is a way of healing for Bosnians, coming to terms with this terrible thing that happened to us … it is building a bridge of understanding where Bosnian people are coming from, because it is very hard to talk about these things (qtd. in Vermont Quarterly Magazine). 
 
 For its receiver, genocide art, with all its capacity to arouse our emotions and empathy, transmits something that we cannot see or engage with in the factual reporting of genocide or in a political analysis of the topic. Through art, it is possible to encounter genocide at an individual, personal level. As Mödersheim points out, we seem to need symbolic expressions to help us understand, and deal with the complex nature of events so horrific that reason and emotion fail to grasp their magnitude. To the intellect, many aspects of these experiences are unfathomable, and yet to keep our humanity we need to understand them … where words and explanations fail, we look for images (Mödersheim 18).
 
 An artist’s responses to genocide can vary from the need of survivors to create actual depictions of the atrocities, to more abstract portrayals of the emotional response to acts of genocide. Art that is created by survivors or witnesses to the genocide demonstrates a documentation and testament to what has occurred – a symbolic act of transmitting the personal experience of genocide. Artistic responses to genocide by those, such as Sehovic, who did not witness the event first hand, express how genocide “remains deeply felt to the point where we could not say it has ended” (Morris 329). Such art represents the continuation and global repercussions of genocide.
 
 The question of what ‘genocide art’ means to the neutral or removed viewer or society is also significant. Art is often associated with pleasure. Issues of mass killing and war are often not the types of topics one wishes to view on a trip to an art gallery. However, art has a more crucial function as a social reflector. It is often the reaction of non-acceptance of such artworks which indicates how society wishes to consider questions of genocide or of war in general. For example, Rayner Hoff’s 1932 war memorial ‘The Crucifixion of Civilisation 1914’ was rejected for display because it was considered too confronting and controversial in its depiction of a naked, tortured female victim of war in a Christ-like pose. As Picasso commented, “painting is not done to decorate apartments. It is an instrument of war for attack and defense against the enemy” (qtd. in Mödersheim 15). 
 
 In discussing the art that emerged from the Sierra Leone Civil War, Ross notes, “as our stomachs and hearts turn over at such sights, we get a small taste of what the artists felt. Even as we look at the images and experience the horror, disgust and anger that comes with knowing that they really happened, we realise that if these images are to be understood as reports from the field, serving the same function as photojournalism, it means that we have been sheltered from this type of reporting from our own news sources” (Ross 39). Here, art can address the often cursory acknowledgment given to ‘events which happen in faraway places’ and lend an insight into the personal. 
 
 As Adorno notes, “history in artworks is not something made, and history alone frees the work from being merely something posited or manufactured” (133). Here we see the indivisibility of the genocide (the ‘history’) from the artwork – that what is seen is not mere ‘depiction’ but art’s ability to turn the anonymous statistics or the unknown genocide into the realisation of a brutal annihilation of individual human beings – to bring history to life as it were. What the viewer does after viewing such art is perhaps immaterial; the important thing is that they now know. 
 
 But why is it important to know and important to remember? It has been argued that genocides which occurred in places like Srebrenica and Rwanda happened because the international community did not know or refused to recognise the events to the point of initially declining to apply the term ‘genocide’ to Srebrenica and settling for the more sanitised term ‘ethnic cleansing’ (Bringa 196). It would be nave and even condescending to argue that ‘Što te Nema?’ or any of the myriad other artistic responses to genocide have the possibility of undoing a genocide such as that which took place in Srebrenica, or even the hope of preventing another genocide. However, it is in transporting genocide into the personal realm that the message is transmitted and ignorance to the event can no longer be claimed. 
 
 The concept of genocide can be too horrendous and vast to take in; art, whilst making it no less horrific, transmits the message to and confronts the viewer at a more direct and personal level. Such art provokes and provides a starting point for comment and debate. Art also stands as a lasting memorial to those who have lost their lives as a result of genocide and as a reminder to humanity that to ignore, underestimate or forget genocide makes possible its recurrence. 
 
 References
 
 Adorno, Theodor. Aesthetic Theory. Trans. by Robert Hullot-Kentor. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1997. Bringa, Tone. “Averted Gaze: Genocide in Bosnia-Herzegovina 1992-1995.” Annihilating Difference: The Anthropology of Genocide. Ed: Alexander Hinton Laban. London: University of California Press, 2002. 194-225. Kohn, Rachael. “War Memorials, Sublime & Scandalous.” Radio National 14 August 2005. 12 December 2005 http://www.abc.net.au/rn/relig/ark/stories/s1433477.htm>. Mödersheim, Sabine. “Art and War.” Representations of Violence: Art about the Sierra Leone Civil War. Ed. Chris Corcoran, Abu-Hassan Koroma, P.K. Muana. Chicago, 2004. 15-20. Morris, Daniel. “Jewish Artists in New York: The Holocaust Years.” American Jewish History 90.3 (September 2002): 329-331. Ross, Mariama. “Bearing Witness.” Representations of Violence: Art about the Sierra Leone Civil War. Ed. Chris Corcoran, Abu-Hassan Koroma, P.K. Muana. Chicago, 2004. 37-40. The Guardian. “Massacre at Srebrenica: Interactive Guide.” May 2005. 5 November 2005 http://www.guardian.co.uk/flash/0,5860,474564,00.html>. United Nations. “International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia.” 10 January 2006 http://www.un.org/icty/>. UNHCHR. “Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide.” 1951. 3 January 2006 http://www.unhchr.ch/html/menu3/b/p_genoci.htm>. Vermont Quarterly Magazine. “Cups of Memory.” Winter 2005. 1 December 2005 http://www.uvm.edu/~uvmpr/vq/vqwinter05/aidasehovic.html>. Vulliamy, Ed. “Srebrenica Ten Years On.” June 2005. 10 February 2006 http://www.opendemocracy.net/conflict-yugoslavia/srebrenica_2651.jsp>.
 
 
 
 
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 Hawkes, M. (Mar. 2006) "Transmitting Genocide: Genocide and Art," M/C Journal, 9(1). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0603/09-hawkes.php>. 

Même si la guerre, comme destruction de masse, a été très tôt au centre des intérêts de la discipline, l’anthropologie ne l’a jamais caractérisée comme une « violence extrême ». Ce qui pose d’emblée la question en termes autres que quantitatifs. L’extrême dans la violence n’est pas forcément dans l’importance du nombre de ses victimes. Il faut y ajouter d’autres dimensions comme l’inanité de l’acte, sa gratuité, son degré de cruauté et le non-respect des règles et normes partagées. Celles de la guerre, par exemple, imposent de ne s’attaquer qu’à l’ennemi armé et d’épargner les civils, de soigner le blessé etc. La violence extrême passe outre toutes ces normes et règles ; et s’exerce avec une cruauté démesurée. La première guerre mondiale constitue aux yeux des défenseurs de cette thèse, le moment inaugural dans le franchissement d’un tel seuil. Car, c’est dans cette guerre que fut utilisé pour la première fois le bombardement aérien, lié à l’ère industrielle, exterminant de nombreuses populations civiles non armées. Associée aux affrontements et insurrections débordant les cadres étatiques, l’expression peut désormais inclure également des faits commis dans le cadre des guerres conduites par des États. La violence extrême est une agression physique et une transgression outrancière d’une éthique partagée. Qu’elle s’exerce lors d’une guerre ou dans le cadre d’une institution (violence institutionnelle) elle est une violence extrême dès lors qu’elle use de moyens estimés inappropriés selon les codes communs et les sensibilités partagées. Les manières et les moyens d’agir doivent être proportionnels à l’objectif visé ; et toute outrance délégitime l’acte de violence, quand bien même celui-ci relèverait de « la violence légitime » monopole de l’Etat. Le qualificatif extrême vient donc spécifier un type de violence qui atteint ce point invisible ou imprévisible, en bafouant l’ordre éthique et conventionnel. Aller à l’extrême c’est aller au-delà du connu et de l’imaginable. La violence extrême est celle donc qui dépasse une limite se situant elle même au-delà des limites connues ou considérées comme impossibles à franchir. Elle renvoie à ce qui dépasse l’entendement par son ampleur ou par sa « gratuité » ; car, ce sont ses finalités qui rationalisent la guerre et toute autre forme de violence. Dépourvue de toute fonctionnalité, la violence extrême n’a d’autres buts qu’elle-même (Wolfgang Sofsky (1993). En d’autres termes, la violence extrême est ce qui oblitère le sens en rendant vaines (ou du moins imperceptibles) les logiques d’un acte jusque-là appréhendé en termes d’utilité, de fonctionnalité et d’efficacité. La violence est extrême quand elle parait démesurée par le nombre de ses victimes (génocide, nettoyage ethnique, meurtres et assassinat de masse) ; mais elle l’est d’autant plus, et le plus souvent, quand elle est accompagnée d’un traitement cruel, froid et gratuit : dépeçage, brûlure, énucléation, viols et mutilations sexuelles. Outrepassant l’habituel et l’admissible, par la démesure du nombre de ses victimes et le degré de cruauté dans l’exécution de l’acte, la violence extrême se situe dans un « au-delà », dont le seuil est une ligne mouvante et difficilement repérable. Son « objectivation » dépend à la fois du bourreau, de la victime et du témoin ; tous façonnés par des constructions culturelles informées par les contextes historiques et produisant des sensibilités et des « esthétiques de réception » subjectives et changeantes. La violence extrême est, nécessairement, d’abord une question de sensibilité. Or, celle-ci est non seulement une subjectivation mais aussi une construction historiquement déterminée. Pendant longtemps et jusqu’au siècle des lumières, le châtiment corporel fut, pour la justice, la norme dans toute l’Europe. Les organes fautifs des coupables sont maltraités publiquement. On exhibait les femmes adultères nues et on leur coupait les seins ; on coupait les langues des blasphémateurs et les mains des voleurs. Le bûcher était réservé aux sodomites, aux hérétiques et aux sorcières. On crevait les yeux (avec un tisonnier incandescent) du traître. Les voleurs de grands chemins subissaient le châtiment d’être rompus vifs. On écartelait et on démembrait le régicide. La foule se dépêchait pour assister à ces spectacles et à ceux des supplices de la roue, des pendaisons, de la décollation par le sabre etc. Placidement et consciencieusement, les bourreaux ont appliqué la « terreur du supplice » jusqu’au milieu du XVIIIe siècle (Meyran, 2006). Il a fallu attendre les lumières pour remplacer le corps violenté par le corps incarcéré. Aujourd’hui insupportables, aux yeux du citoyen occidental, certains de ces châtiments corporels administrés avec une violence extrême sont encore en usage dans d’autres sociétés. Après les massacres collectifs qui ont marqué la fin du XXe siècle, les travaux de Véronique Nahoum-Grappe portant sur le conflit de l’ex-Yougoslavie vont contribuer à relancer le débat sur la notion de « violence extrême » comme elle le rappellera plus tard : « Nous avions utilisé la notion de « violence extrême » à propos de la guerre en ex-Yougoslavie pour désigner « toutes les pratiques de cruauté « exagérée » exercées à l’encontre de civils et non de l’armée « ennemie », qui semblaient dépasser le simple but de vouloir s’emparer d’un territoire et d’un pouvoir. » (Nahoum-Grappe. 2002). Elle expliquera plus loin qu’après dix années de ces premières observations, ce qu’elle tentait de désigner, relève, en fait, d’une catégorie de crimes, graves, usant de cruauté dans l’application d’un programme de « purification ethnique ». Pourtant, quel que soit le critère invoqué, le phénomène n’est pas nouveau et loin d’être historiquement inédit. Si l’on reprend l’argument du nombre et de la gratuité de l’acte, le massacre n’est pas une invention du XXe s ; et ne dépend pas de la technologie contemporaine. On peut remonter assez loin et constater que dans ce domaine, l’homme a fait feu de tout bois, comme le montre El Kenz David dans ses travaux sur les guerres de religion (El Kenz 2010 & 2011). Parce que les sensibilités de l’époque admettaient ou toléraient certaines exactions, aux yeux des contemporains celles-ci ne relevaient pas de la violence extrême. Quant aux cruautés et autres exactions perpétrés à l’encontre des populations civiles, bien avant Auschwitz et l’ex-Yougoslavie, l’humanité en a souffert d’autres. Grâce aux travaux des historiens, certaines sont désormais relativement bien connues comme les atrocités commises lors des colonnes infernales dans la guerre de Vendée ou le massacre de May Lai dans la guerre du Vietnam. D’autres demeurent encore méconnues et insuffisamment étudiées. Les exactions menées lors des guerres coloniales et de conquêtes sont loin d’être toutes recensées. La mise à mort, en juin 1845, par « enfumade » de la tribu des Ouled Riah, dans le massif du Dahra en Algérie par le futur général Pélissier sont un exemple qui commence à peine à être porté à la connaissance en France comme en Algérie (Le Cour Grandmaison, 2005.). Qu’elle soit ethnique ou sociale, qu’elle soit qualifiée de purification ethnique ou d’entreprise génocidaire, cette extermination qui passe par des massacres de masse ne peut être qualifiée autrement que par violence extrême. Qu’elle s’exerce sur un individu ou contre un groupe, la violence extrême se caractérise presque toujours par un traitement cruel, le plus souvent pensé et administré avec une égale froideur ; une sorte d’« esthétisation de la cruauté ». Pour le dire avec les mots de Pierre Mannoni, la violence extrême use d’un certain « maniérisme de l'horreur », ou de ce qu’il appelle « une tératologie symbolique » (Mannoni ,2004, p. 82-83), c‘est à dire l’art de mettre en scène les monstruosités. Motivée par un danger ou une menace extrême justifiant, aux yeux du bourreau, une réponse extrême, cette violence extrême a pu s’exécuter par la machette (Rwanda) ou dans des chambres à gaz, comme par d’autres moyens et armes de destruction massive. C'est l'intégrité du corps social et sa pureté que le bourreau « croit » défendre en recourant à une exérèse… salvatrice. La cruauté fait partie de l’arsenal du combattant qui s’ingénie à inventer le scénario le plus cruel en profanant l’intime et le tabou. Françoise Sironi le montre à propos d’une des expressions de la violence extrême. L’efficacité destructrice de la torture est obtenue entre autres par la transgression de tabous culturels ; et par l’inversion qui rend perméable toutes les limites entre les dedans et les dehors. Réinjecter dans le corps ce qui est censé être expulsé (excréments, urine, vomissures) ; féminiser et exposer les parties intimes ou les pénétrer en dehors de la sphère intime, associer des parties démembrées d’un corps humain à celles d’un animal, sont autant de manières de faire violence extrême. Cette inversion transgressive use du corps de la victime pour terroriser le témoin et le survivant. Outrepassant l’habituel et l’attendu par la manière (égorgement, démembrement, énucléation, émasculation etc.,), les moyens (usage d’armes de destruction massive, d’armes nucléaires bactériologiques ou chimiques) et une certaine rationalité, la « violence extrême » est un dépassement d’horizon. L’acte par sa singularité suggère une sortie de l’humanité de son auteur désensibilisé, déshumanisé ; qui, par son forfait et dans le même mouvement, exclue sa victime de l’humanité. Pour Jacques Semelin, la violence extrême « est l’expression prototypique de la négation de toute humanité ; dans la mesure où ses victimes sont le plus souvent d’abord « animalisées » ou « chosifiées » avant d’être anéanties (Sémelin, 2002). Ajoutons qu’elle n’est pas qu’anéantissement, elle est aussi une affirmation démonstrative d’une surpuissance. Que ce soit par le nombre, la manière ou l’arbitraire, la violence extrême a ponctué l’histoire de l’humanité et continue à la hanter Parmi ses formes contemporaines, le terrorisme est une de ses manifestations les plus spectaculaires ; permettant de comprendre qu’elle est d’abord une théâtralisation. L’image de chaos que renvoient les attentats et autres exactions spectaculaires, est le résultat dument recherché à l’aide d’une organisation minutieuse et de stratégies affinées que cette image chaotique occulte souvent. Il s’agit d’une démarche rationnelle tendant à produire un acte apparemment irrationnel. Les massacres collectifs qui font partie de ce que Stéphane Leman-Langlois qualifie de « mégacrimes » (Leman-Langlois, 2006) constituent une autre forme contemporaine de cette violence extrême ; dont la Bosnie-Herzégovine et le Rwanda demeurent les exemples les plus dramatiques depuis la fin de la Seconde Guerre mondiale. En raison de leur ampleur et l’organisation méthodique de leur exécution, ces massacres ont été, à juste titre, souvent qualifié de génocide. C’est le professeur de droit américain d’origine polonaise, Raphael Lemkin qui donnera le nom de génocide à ce que, Winston Churchill, parlant du nazisme, qualifiait de « crime sans nom ». Au terme génocide devenu polémique et idéologique, sera préféré la notion de massacre que Semelin définit comme « forme d’action le plus souvent collective de destruction des non combattants » (Sémelin 2012, p. 21). Dans les faits, il s’agit de la même réalité ; sans être des entreprises génocidaires, ces massacres de masse ont visé l’« extermination » de groupes humains en vue de s’emparer de leur territoire au sens le plus large. La violence extrême agit à la fois sur l'émotionnel et sur l'imaginaire ; en franchissant le seuil du tolérable et de la sensibilité ordinairement admise dans le cadre de représentations sociales. Le caractère extrême de la violence se définit en fonction d’un imaginaire partagé ; qu’elle heurte en allant au-delà de ce qu'il peut concevoir ; et des limites de ce qu'il peut « souffrir ». Il s’agit d’une violence qui franchit le seuil du concevable et ouvre vers un horizon encore difficilement imaginable et donc insupportable parce que non maîtrisable. Qu’est-ce qui motive ce recours à l’extrême ? Nombre d’historiens se sont demandé si les logiques politiques suffisaient à les expliquer. Ne faudrait-il pas les inférer aux dimensions psychologiques ? Plusieurs approches mettent, quelquefois, en rapport violence extrême et ressorts émotionnels (peur, colère et haine et jouissance..). D’autres fois, ce sont les pulsions psychiques qui sont invoquées. Incapables d’expliquer de telles conduites par les logiques sociales ou politiques, ce sont les dimensions psychologiques qui finissent par être mises en avant. L’acte, par son caractère extrême serait à la recherche du plaisir et de la jouissance dans l’excès, devenant ainsi une fin en soi. Il peut également être une manière de tenter de compenser des manques en recherchant du sens dans le non-sens. Cela a pu être expliqué aussi comme une manière de demeurer du côté des hommes en animalisant ou en chosifiant la victime, en la faisant autre. L’auteur de la violence extrême procède à une négation de sa victime pour se (re) construire lui-même. Pure jouissance (Wolfgang Sofsky) délire (Yvon Le Bot, J Semelin) ou conduite fonctionnelle de reconstruction de soi (Primo Levi), sont les trois approches avancées pour expliquer la cruauté comme acte inadmissible et inconcevable (Wierworka, 2004 : p 268). Or, la violence extrême prend la forme d’une cruauté quand ses protagonistes redoublent d’ingéniosité pour inventer le scénario inédit le plus cruel. Car la violence extrême est d’abord un indéchiffrable insupportable qui se trouve par commodité rangé du côté de l’exceptionnalité. Parce qu’inintelligible, elle est inacceptable, elle est extra… ordinaire. Ses auteurs sont des barbares, des bêtes, des monstres ; autrement dit ; des inhumains parce qu’ils accomplissent ce que l’humain est incapable de concevoir. Dans quelle mesure, de telles approches ne sont-elles pas une manière de rassurer la société des humains qui exclue ces « monstres » exceptionnels seuls capables d’actes … inhumains ? Parce qu’inexplicables, ces violences sont quelquefois rangées dans le registre de la folie ; et qualifiées de « barbares » ou de « monstrueuses » ; des qualificatifs qui déshumanisent leurs auteurs et signalent l’impuissance du témoin à comprendre et à agir. En d’autres termes, tant que la violence relève de l’explicable (réciprocité, échange, mimétisme etc.), elle demeure humaine ; et devient extrême quand elle échappe à l‘entendement. Indicible parce qu’injustifiable, la violence extrême est inhumaine. Cependant, aussi inhumaine soit-elle d’un point de vue éthique, la violence extrême demeure du point de vue anthropologique, un acte terriblement humain ; et que l’homme accomplit toujours à partir de déterminants et selon un raisonnement humains. Comme le dit Semelin : « Les deux faces de la violence extrême, sa rationalité et sa démence, ne peuvent se penser l’une sans l’autre. Et rien ne sert de dénoncer la sauvagerie des tueurs en omettant de s’interroger sur leurs buts » (Semelin, 2000). L’auteur de l’acte de violence extrême s’érige en homme-dieu pour dénier toute humanité à la victime qu’il décide d’exclure de la vie, de la déshumaniser en l’expulsant vers l’infra humain.

Women in federal politics are under-represented today and always have been. At no time in the history of the federal parliament have women achieved equal representation with men. There have never been an equal number of women in any federal cabinet. Women have never held an equitable number of executive positions of the Australian Labor Party (ALP) or the Liberal Party. Australia has had only one female Prime Minister, Julia Gillard, and she was the recipient of sexist treatment in the parliament and the media. A 2019 report by Plan International found that girls and women, were “reluctant to pursue a career in politics, saying they worry about being treated unfairly.” The Report author said the results were unsurprisingwhen you consider how female politicians are still treated in Parliament and the media in this country, is it any wonder the next generation has no desire to expose themselves to this world? Unfortunately, in Australia, girls grow up seeing strong, smart, capable female politicians constantly reduced to what they’re wearing, comments about their sexuality and snipes about their gender.What voters may not always see is how women in politics respond to sexist treatment, or to bullying, or having to vote against their principles because of party rules, or to having no support to lead the party. Rather than being political victims and quitting, there is a ground-swell of women who are fighting back. The rage they feel at being excluded, bullied, harassed, name-called, and denied leadership opportunities is being channelled into rage against the structures that deny them equality. The rage they feel is building resilience and it is building networks of women across the political divide. This article highlights some female MPs who are “maintaining the rage”. It suggests that the rage that is evident in their public responses is empowering them to stand strong in the face of adversity, in solidarity with other female MPs, building their resilience, and strengthening calls for social change and political equality.Her-story of Women’s MovementsThroughout the twentieth century, women stood for equal rights and personal empowerment driven by rage against their disenfranchisement. Significant periods include the early 1900s, with suffragettes gaining the vote for women. The interwar period of 1919 to 1938 saw women campaign for financial independence from their husbands (Andrew). Australian women were active citizens in a range of campaigns for improved social, economic and political outcomes for women and their children.Early contributions made by women to Australian society were challenges to the regulations and of female sexuality and reproduction. Early twentieth century feminist organisations such The Women’s Peace Army, United Association of Women, the Australian Federation of Women’s Societies for Equal Citizenship, the Union of Australian Women, the National Council of Women, and the Australian Federation of Women Voters, proved the early forerunners to the 1970s Women’s Liberation Movement (WLM). It was in many of these early campaigns that the rage expressed in the concept of the “personal is political” (Hanisch) became entrenched in Australian feminist approaches to progressive social change. The idea of the “personal is political” encapsulated that it was necessary to challenge and change power relations, achievable when women fully participated in politics (van Acker 25). Attempts by women during the 1970s to voice concerns about issues of inequality, including sexuality, the right to abortion, availability of childcare, and sharing of household duties, were “deemed a personal problem” and not for public discussion (Hanisch). One core function of the WLM was to “advance women’s positions” via government legislation or, as van Acker (120) puts it, the need for “feminist intervention in the state.” However, in advocating for policy reform, the WLM had no coherent or organised strategy to ensure legislative change. The establishment of the Women’s Electoral Lobby (WEL), together with the Femocrat strategy, sought to rectify this. Formed in 1972, WEL was tasked with translating WLM concerns into government policy.The initial WEL campaign took issues of concern to WLM to the incoming Whitlam government (1972-1975). Lyndall Ryan (73) notes: women’s liberationists were the “stormtroopers” and WEL the “pragmatic face of feminism.” In 1973 Whitlam appointed Elizabeth Reid, a member of WLM, as Australia’s first Women’s Advisor. Of her appointment, Reid (3) said, “For the first time in our history we were being offered the opportunity to attempt to implement what for years we had been writing, yelling, marching and working towards. Not to respond would have felt as if our bluff had been called.” They had the opportunity in the Whitlam government to legislatively and fiscally address the rage that drove generations of women to yell and march.Following Reid were the appointments of Sara Dowse and Lyndall Ryan, continuing the Femocrat strategy of ensuring women were appointed to executive bureaucratic roles within the Whitlam government. The positions were not well received by the mainly male-dominated press gallery and parliament. As “inside agitators” (Eisenstein) for social change the central aim of Femocrats was social and economic equity for women, reflecting social justice and progressive social and public policy. Femocrats adopted a view about the value of women’s own lived experiences in policy development, application and outcome. The role of Senator Susan Ryan is of note. In 1981, Ryan wrote and introduced the Sex Discrimination Bill, the first piece of federal legislation of its type in Australia. Ryan was a founding member of WEL and was elected to the Senate in 1975 on the slogan “A woman’s place is in the Senate”. As Ryan herself puts it: “I came to believe that not only was a woman’s place in the House and in the Senate, as my first campaign slogan proclaimed, but a feminist’s place was in politics.” Ryan, the first Labor woman to represent the ACT in the Senate, was also the first Labor woman appointed as a federal Minister.With the election of the economic rationalist Hawke and Keating Governments (1983-1996) and the neoliberal Howard Government (1996-2007), what was a “visible, united, highly mobilised and state-focused women’s movement” declined (Lake 260). This is not to say that women today reject the value of women’s voices and experiences, particularly in politics. Many of the issues of the 1970s remain today: domestic violence, unequal pay, sexual harassment, and a lack of gender parity in political representation. Hence, it remains important that women continue to seek election to the national parliament.Gender Gap: Women in Power When examining federal elections held between 1972 and 2016, women have been under-represented in the lower house. In none of these elections have women achieved more than 30 per cent representation. Following the 1974 election less that one per cent of the lower house were women. No women were elected to the lower house at the 1975 or 1977 election. Between 1980 and 1996, female representation was less than 10 per cent. In 1996 this rose to 15 per cent and reached 29 per cent at the 2016 federal election.Following the 2016 federal election, only 32 per cent of both chambers were women. After the July 2016 election, only eight women were appointed to the Turnbull Ministry: six women in Cabinet and two women in the Outer Cabinet (Parliament of Australia). Despite the higher representation of women in the ALP, this is not reflected in the number of women in the Shadow Cabinet. Just as female parliamentarians have never achieved parity, neither have women in the Executive Branch.In 2017, Australia was ranked 50th in the world in terms of gender representation in parliament, between The Philippines and South Sudan. Globally, there are 38 States in which women account for less than 10 per cent of parliamentarians. As at January 2017, the three highest ranking countries in female representation were Rwanda, Bolivia and Cuba. The United Kingdom was ranked 47th, and the United States 104th (IPU and UNW). Globally only 18 per cent of government ministers are women (UNW). Between 1960 and 2013, 52 women became prime ministers worldwide, of those 43 have taken office since 1990 (Curtin 191).The 1995 United Nations (UN) Fourth World Conference on Women set a 30 per cent target for women in decision-making. This reflects the concept of “critical mass”. Critical mass proposes that for there to be a tipping balance where parity is likely to emerge, this requires a cohort of a minimum of 30 per cent of the minority group.Gender scholars use critical mass theory to explain that parity won’t occur while there are only a few token women in politics. Rather, only as numbers increase will women be able to build a strong enough presence to make female representation normative. Once a 30 per cent critical mass is evident, the argument is that this will encourage other women to join the cohort, making parity possible (Childs & Krook 725). This threshold also impacts on legislative outcomes, because the larger cohort of women are able to “influence their male colleagues to accept and approve legislation promoting women’s concerns” (Childs & Krook 725).Quotas: A Response to Gender InequalityWith women representing less than one in five parliamentarians worldwide, gender quotas have been introduced in 90 countries to redress this imbalance (Krook). Quotas are an equal opportunity measure specifically designed to re-dress inequality in political representation by allocating seats to under-represented groups (McCann 4). However, the effectiveness of the quota system is contested, with continued resistance, particularly in conservative parties. Fine (3) argues that one key objection to mandatory quotas is that they “violate the principle of merit”, suggesting insufficient numbers of women capable or qualified to hold parliamentary positions.In contrast, Gauja (2) suggests that “state-mandated electoral quotas work” because in countries with legislated quotas the number of women being nominated is significantly higher. While gender quotas have been brought to bear to address the gender gap, the ability to challenge the majority status of men has been limited (Hughes).In 1994 the ALP introduced rule-based party quotas to achieve equal representation by 2025 and a gender weighting system for female preselection votes. Conversely, the Liberal Party have a voluntary target of reaching 50 per cent female representation by 2025. But what of the treatment of women who do enter politics?Fig. 1: Portrait of Julia Gillard AC, 27th Prime Minister of Australia, at Parliament House, CanberraInside Politics: Misogyny and Mobs in the ALPIn 2010, Julia Gillard was elected as the leader of the governing ALP, making her Australia’s first female Prime Minister. Following the 2010 federal election, called 22 days after becoming Prime Minister, Gillard was faced with the first hung parliament since 1940. She formed a successful minority government before losing the leadership of the ALP in June 2013. Research demonstrates that “being a female prime minister is often fraught because it challenges many of the gender stereotypes associated with political leadership” (Curtin 192). In Curtin’s assessment Gillard was naïve in her view that interest in her as the country’s first female Prime Minister would quickly dissipate.Gillard, argues Curtin (192-193), “believed that her commitment to policy reform and government enterprise, to hard work and maintaining consensus in caucus, would readily outstrip the gender obsession.” As Curtin continues, “this did not happen.” Voters were continually reminded that Gillard “did not conform to the traditional.” And “worse, some high-profile men, from industry, the Liberal Party and the media, indulged in verbal attacks of a sexist nature throughout her term in office (Curtin 192-193).The treatment of Gillard is noted in terms of how misogyny reinforced negative perceptions about the patriarchal nature of parliamentary politics. The rage this created in public and media spheres was double-edged. On the one hand, some were outraged at the sexist treatment of Gillard. On the other hand, those opposing Gillard created a frenzy of personal and sexist attacks on her. Further attacking Gillard, on 25 February 2011, radio broadcaster Alan Jones called Gillard, not only by her first-name, but called her a “liar” (Kwek). These attacks and the informal way the Prime Minister was addressed, was unprecedented and caused outrage.An anti-carbon tax rally held in front of Parliament House in Canberra in March 2011, featured placards with the slogans “Ditch the Witch” and “Bob Brown’s Bitch”, referring to Gillard and her alliance with the Australian Greens, led by Senator Bob Brown. The Opposition Leader Tony Abbott and other members of the Liberal Party were photographed standing in front of the placards (Sydney Morning Herald, Vertigo). Criticism of women in positions of power is not limited to coming from men alone. Women from the Liberal Party were also seen in the photo of derogatory placards decrying Gillard’s alliances with the Greens.Gillard (Sydney Morning Herald, “Gillard”) said she was “offended when the Leader of the Opposition went outside in the front of Parliament and stood next to a sign that said, ‘Ditch the witch’. I was offended when the Leader of the Opposition stood next to a sign that ascribed me as a man’s bitch.”Vilification of Gillard culminated in October 2012, when Abbott moved a no-confidence motion against the Speaker of the House, Peter Slipper. Abbott declared the Gillard government’s support for Slipper was evidence of the government’s acceptance of Slipper’s sexist attitudes (evident in allegations that Slipper sent a text to a political staffer describing female genitals). Gillard responded with what is known as the “Misogyny speech”, pointing at Abbott, shaking with rage, and proclaiming, “I will not be lectured about sexism and misogyny by this man” (ABC). Apart from vilification, how principles can be forsaken for parliamentary, party or electoral needs, may leave some women circumspect about entering parliament. Similar attacks on political women may affirm this view.In 2010, Labor Senator Penny Wong, a gay Member of Parliament and advocate of same-sex marriage, voted against a bill supporting same-sex marriage, because it was not ALP policy (Q and A, “Passion”). Australian Marriage Equality spokesperson, Alex Greenwich, strongly condemned Wong’s vote as “deeply hypocritical” (Akersten). The Sydney Morning Herald (Dick), under the headline “Married to the Mob” asked:a question: what does it now take for a cabinet minister to speak out on a point of principle, to venture even a mild criticism of the party position? ... Would you object if your party, after fixing some areas of discrimination against a minority group of which you are a part, refused to move on the last major reform for that group because of ‘tradition’ without any cogent explanation of why that tradition should remain? Not if you’re Penny Wong.In 2017, during the postal vote campaign for marriage equality, Wong clarified her reasons for her 2010 vote against same-sex marriage saying in an interview: “In 2010 I had to argue a position I didn’t agree with. You get a choice as a party member don’t you? You either resign or do something like that and make a point, or you stay and fight and you change it.” Biding her time, Wong used her rage to change policy within the ALP.In continuing personal attacks on Gillard, on 19 March 2012, Gillard was told by Germaine Greer that she had a “big arse” (Q and A, “Politics”) and on 27 August 2012, Greer said Gillard looked like an “organ grinder’s monkey” (Q and A, “Media”). Such an attack by a prominent feminist from the 1970s, on the personal appearance of the Prime Minister, reinforced the perception that it was acceptable to criticise a woman in this position, in ways men have never been. Inside Politics: Leadership and Bullying inside the Liberal PartyWhile Gillard’s leadership was likely cut short by the ongoing attacks on her character, Liberal Deputy leader Julie Bishop was thwarted from rising to the leadership of the Liberal Party, thus making it unlikely she will become the Liberal Party’s first female Prime Minister. Julie Bishop was Australia’s Minister for Foreign Affairs from 2013 to 2018 and Deputy Leader of the Liberal Party from 2007 to 2018, having entered politics in 1998.With the impending demise of Prime Minister Turnbull in August 2018, Bishop sought support from within the Liberal Party to run for the leadership. In the second round of leadership votes Bishop stood for the leadership in a three-cornered race, coming last in the vote to Peter Dutton and Scott Morrison. Bishop resigned as the Foreign Affairs Minister and took a seat on the backbench.When asked if the Liberal Party would elect a popular female leader, Bishop replied: “When we find one, I’m sure we will.” Political journalist Annabel Crabb offered further insight into what Bishop meant when she addressed the press in her red Rodo shoes, labelling the statement as “one of Julie Bishop’s chilliest-ever slapdowns.” Crabb, somewhat sardonically, suggested this translated as Bishop listing someone with her qualifications and experience as: “Woman Works Hard, Is Good at Her Job, Doesn't Screw Up, Loses Out Anyway.”For political journalist Tony Wright, Bishop was “clearly furious with those who had let their testosterone get the better of them and their party” and proceeded to “stride out in a pair of heels in the most vivid red to announce that, despite having resigned the deputy position she had occupied for 11 years, she was not about to quit the Parliament.” In response to the lack of support for Bishop in the leadership spill, female members of the federal parliament took to wearing red in the parliamentary chambers signalling that female members were “fed up with the machinations of the male majority” (Wright).Red signifies power, strength and anger. Worn in parliament, it was noticeable and striking, making a powerful statement. The following day, Bishop said: “It is evident … that there is an acceptance of a level of behaviour in Canberra that would not be tolerated in any other workplace across Australia" (Wright).Colour is political. The Suffragettes of the early twentieth century donned the colours of purple and white to create a statement of unity and solidarity. In recent months, Dr Kerryn Phelps used purple in her election campaign to win the vacated seat of Wentworth, following Turnbull’s resignation, perhaps as a nod to the Suffragettes. Public anger in Wentworth saw Phelps elected, despite the electorate having been seen as a safe Liberal seat.On 21 February 2019, the last sitting day of Parliament before the budget and federal election, Julie Bishop stood to announce her intention to leave politics at the next election. To some this was a surprise. To others it was expected. On finishing her speech, Bishop immediately exited the Lower House without acknowledging the Prime Minister. A proverbial full-stop to her outrage. She wore Suffragette white.Victorian Liberal backbencher Julia Banks, having declared herself so repelled by bullying during the Turnbull-Dutton leadership delirium, announced she was quitting the Liberal Party and sitting in the House of Representatives as an Independent. Banks said she could no longer tolerate the bullying, led by members of the reactionary right wing, the coup was aided by many MPs trading their vote for a leadership change in exchange for their individual promotion, preselection endorsements or silence. Their actions were undeniably for themselves, for their position in the party, their power, their personal ambition – not for the Australian people.The images of male Liberal Members of Parliament standing with their backs turned to Banks, as she tended her resignation from the Liberal Party, were powerful, indicating their disrespect and contempt. Yet Banks’s decision to stay in politics, as with Wong and Bishop is admirable. To maintain the rage from within the institutions and structures that act to sustain patriarchy is a brave, but necessary choice.Today, as much as any time in the past, a woman’s place is in politics, however, recent events highlight the ongoing poor treatment of women in Australian politics. Yet, in the face of negative treatment – gendered attacks on their character, dismissive treatment of their leadership abilities, and ongoing bullying and sexism, political women are fighting back. They are once again channelling their rage at the way they are being treated and how their abilities are constantly questioned. They are enraged to the point of standing in the face of adversity to bring about social and political change, just as the suffragettes and the women’s movements of the 1970s did before them. The current trend towards women planning to stand as Independents at the 2019 federal election is one indication of this. Women within the major parties, particularly on the conservative side of politics, have become quiet. Some are withdrawing, but most are likely regrouping, gathering the rage within and ready to make a stand after the dust of the 2019 election has settled.ReferencesAndrew, Merrindahl. Social Movements and the Limits of Strategy: How Australian Feminists Formed Positions on Work and Care. Canberra. 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Women in Politics: 2017. 2017. 29 Jan. 2018 <https://www.ipu.org/resources/publications/infographics/2017-03/women-in-politics-2017>.Krook, Mona Lena. “Gender Quotas as a Global Phenomenon: Actors and Strategies in Quota Adoption.” European Political Science 3.3 (2004): 59–65.———. “Candidate Gender Quotas: A Framework for Analysis.” European Journal of Political Research 46 (2007): 367–394.Kwek, Glenda. “Alan Jones Lets Rip at ‘Ju-liar’ Gillard.” Sydney Morning Herald 25 Feb. 2011. 12 Sep. 2016 <http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/tv-and-radio/alan-jones-lets-rip-at-juliar-gillard-20110224-1b7km.html>.Lake, Marilyn. Getting Equal: The History of Australian Feminism. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 1999.McCann, Joy. “Electoral Quotas for Women: An International Overview.” Parliament of Australia Library 14 Nov. 2013. 1 Feb. 2018 <https://www.aph.gov.au/About_Parliament/Parliamentary_Departments/Parliamentary_Library/pubs/rp/rp1314/ElectoralQuotas>.Parliament of Australia. “Current Ministry List: The 45th Parliament.” 2016. 11 Sep. 2016 <http://www.aph.gov.au/about_parliament/parliamentary_departments/parliamentary_library/parliamentary_handbook/current_ministry_list>.Plan International. “Girls Reluctant to Pursue a Life of Politics Cite Sexism as Key Reason.” 2018. 20 Jan. 2019 <https://www.plan.org.au/media/media-releases/girls-have-little-to-no-desire-to-pursue-a-career-in-politics>.Q and A. “Mutilation and the Media Generation.” ABC Television 27 Aug. 2012. 28 Sep. 2016 <http://www.abc.net.au/tv/qanda/txt/s3570412.htm>.———. “Politics and Porn in a Post-Feminist World.” ABC Television 19 Mar. 2012. 12 Sep. 2016 <http://www.abc.net.au/tv/qanda/txt/s3451584.htm>.———. “Where Is the Passion?” ABC Television 26 Jul. 2010. 23 Mar. 2018 <http://www.abc.net.au/tv/qanda/txt/s2958214.htm?show=transcript>.Reid, Elizabeth. “The Child of Our Movement: A Movement of Women.” Different Lives: Reflections on the Women’s Movement and Visions of Its Future. Ed. Jocelynne Scutt. Ringwood: Penguin 1987. 107-120.Ryan, L. “Feminism and the Federal Bureaucracy 1972-83.” Playing the State: Australian Feminist Interventions. Ed. Sophie Watson. Sydney: Allen and Unwin 1990.Ryan, Susan. “Fishes on Bicycles.” Papers on Parliament 17 (Sep. 1992). 1 Mar. 2018 <https://www.aph.gov.au/~/~/link.aspx?_id=981240E4C1394E1CA3D0957C42F99120>.Sydney Morning Herald. “‘Pinocchio Gillard’: Strong Anti-Gillard Emissions at Canberra Carbon Tax Protest.” 23 Mar. 2011. 12 Sep. 2016 <http://www.smh.com.au/environment/climate-change/pinocchio-gillard-strong-antigillard-emissions-at-canberra-carbon-tax-protest-20110323-1c5w7.html>.———. “Gillard v Abbott on the Slipper Affair.” 10 Oct. 2012. 12 Sep. 2016 <http://www.abc.net.au/news/2012-10-09/gillard-vs-abbott-on-the-slipper-affair/4303618>.United Nations Women. 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Vingt ans après la deuxième guerre mondiale, en pleine guerre froide, les évêques polonais écrivent, au grand dam de l’État, à leurs homologues allemands « nous pardonnons et demandons pardon ». Depuis, l’usage du pardon dans la politique nationale et internationale est devenu monnaie courante. Presque toujours le pardon est demandé pour les actes commis par des générations précédentes, une démarche entrée dans la culture politique depuis peu. Rappelons à titre d’exemple qu’alors que son père refusait de demander pardon à titre de premier ministre du Canada pour des actes posés par des générations antérieures, Justin Trudeau, l’actuel premier ministre, ne s’en prive pas. Mobilisée dans la résolution des conflits, la démarche de réconciliation incorpore le pardon. Ainsi, cet objet d’étude de la théologie, de la morale, de la religion et de la philosophie est désormais principalement étudié par la science politique. Par l’homologie, le pardon passé de la relation entre Dieu et l’individu aux rapports interpersonnels puis aux rapports entre les communautés et les États, est devenu un objet politique. Le long vingtième siècle occidental, entre les hécatombes des guerres mondiales, l’Holocauste et les génocides, a mis sociétés et individus devant le défi de la reconstruction du social et du politique après l’impardonnable. Hannah Arendt (1958), Jacques Derrida (2001) et Wole Soyinka (2000), mais avant tout femmes et hommes « ordinaires » ont fait face au défi de reconstruire l’humain à la sortie de l’expérience de l’inhumain. “Si cela veut dire que cet homme qui a tué fils, si cela veut dire qu’il redevienne humain afin que nous tous puissions ravoir votre humanité … alors j’accepte » (Krog : emplacement 3486, toutes les traduction sont les miennes, BJ) a déclaré Cynthia Ngewu témoignant lors des audiences de la Commission Vérité et Réconciliation sud-africaine sur l’amnistie. Paul Ricoeur (2000), le plus influent des chercheurs universitaires ayant analysé le pardon dans la perspective d’un vivre-ensemble aux confluents de la philosophie, de l’éthique et de la théologie chrétienne, soutient que le véritable pardon délie « l’agent de son acte ». La culture chrétienne, aujourd’hui largement laïcisée, est un sous-bassement des usages du pardon pour la reconstruction d’un vivre-ensemble. En reconnaissant ce fait, il ne faut pas perdre de vue que le pardon est une préoccupation ancrée non seulement dans les trois grands monothéismes mais aussi dans le bouddhisme, l‘hindouisme et autres systèmes philosophiques ou de croyance en Asie, Océanie, Afrique, etc. Cependant, on ne comprend pas toujours le pardon à l’identique. Son utilisation pour la résolution des conflits ne va pas sans malentendus. Lorsque, pour désengorger son système de justice, l’État rwandais recourt à l’institution locale de gacaca, on est loin de l’apaisement d’un conflit au sein de la communauté d’une colline, l’octroi du pardon ou plus précisément l’acceptation du génocidaire étant conditionnés à la reconnaissance par celui-ci de son crime. Lorsque, dans une société occidentale, on s’inspire de la pratique hawaïenne de ho’opononpono pour la thérapie familiale, les acteurs n’ont ni mêmes attentes, ni même compréhension du pardon. Lorsqu’en 2012, dans la lettre ouverte commune aux nations de Pologne et de Russie, le patriarche Cyrille et l’archevêque Michalik offrent un pardon réciproque, en ont-ils la même compréhension ? La théologie du premier est de tradition grecque, celle de l’autre de tradition latine ? Retrouver l’humain, après l’expérience du génocide, de la colonisation, de l’esclavage peut aussi bien conduire à obéir à l’injonction d’inspiration chrétienne de Desmond Tutu « Pas d’avenir sans pardon » qu’à la réserve de Mahatma Gandhi . « Le faible ne peut pardonner. Le pardon est attribut du fort ». Cependant, pardonner pourrait permettre d’investir, au moins symboliquement, la position de ce dernier ? Est-ce pourquoi la position de Gandhi à l’égard du pardon a évolué ? De toute évidence, la réflexion anthropologique sur le sujet s’impose. Pourtant, les courants dominants de la discipline accordent peu d’intérêt au pardon, à l’exception des publications issues de l’anthropologie juridique, de l’anthropologie de la morale, de l’anthropologie psychologique ou de l’anthropologie des religions. Il se pose donc la question de savoir si la méthodologie de ces dernières leur viendrait de l’éthique ou de la théologie, ce dont manquerait l’anthropologie ? Or, Barbara Cassin trouve dans l’hyperbole de l’offre de pardon « absolu » dans l’Évangile (« le pardon n’est vraiment pardon – perfection du don - que lorsqu’il pardonne l’impardonnable, remet l’imprescriptible… » (2004 : 894), une structure ressemblant à celle du potlatch. Le contre-don perpétue le processus de « dépense » selon Georges Bataille (1967) de même que le don et contre-don de Marcel Mauss (2012). On retrouve cette même structure de relance dans l’offre de pardon « absolue », toujours en avance sur la demande. Dans la tradition nord-américaine de la discipline, Ruth Benedict (1946) offre une autre entrée « anthropologique » au pardon. La honte et la culpabilité seraient deux principes distincts de contrôle social de l’individu, elle s’en sert pour différencier la société japonaise de la société étasunienne. La première valoriserait l’honneur et la fierté alors que la seconde mettrait de l’avant la conscience individuelle. La mondialisation de la culture nord-américaine, aurait porté à l’échelle de la planète la prépondérance de la conscience individuelle et donc l’importance du pardon autant dans les relations interpersonnelles que dans celles entre les corps sociaux. Que ce soit l’entrée par le don ou par la conscience individuelle comme principe de contrôle social, la théologie des religions monothéistes, plus précisément la théologie chrétienne et plus encore la théologie protestante sont mobilisées. Il est donc impossible de conclure sans poser la question de l’universalité du pardon, de son usage qui ne serait pas affecté par le soupçon du prosélytisme chrétien. L’issue de cette réflexion finale devrait permettre de décider si le pardon demeure pour l’essentiel un objet de la théologie ou bien serait également celui de l’anthropologie. Revenons à l’exemple sud-africain, Antije Krog commente ainsi le témoignage de Cynthia Ngewu : « Le pardon chrétien dit : Je vous pardonne puisque Jésus m’a pardonné. (…) Le pardon africain dit : Je vous pardonne afin que vous puissiez et que puisse commencer à guérir ; que nous tous puissions redevenir nous-mêmes comme nous devrions l’être » (…) tous les Sud-Africains noirs formulent le pardon en termes de cette interrelation » (2009 : emplacement 3498 et 3489). Changeons de continent tout en conservant la comparabilité des expériences historiques. Roy L. Brooks (2004) écrit à la même époque que les excuses et les reparation constituent l’expiation laquelle impose États-Unis une réciproque obligation civique de pardonner. Ce pardon permet d’abandonner le ressentiment. Krog et Brooks suggèrent que ce que ce pardon dépasse le cadre de la chrétienté occidentale permettant aux gens de « réinterpréter les concepts occidentaux usés et mis à mal dont le pardon ». (Krog 2009 : emplacement 3494) Barbara Cassin souligne que la conception théologico-politique actuelle établit une hiérarchie entre celui qui pardonne et celui à qui on pardonne. En latin classique, il y a condescendance dans la relation duelle entre le sujet dont relève la décision souveraine d’oublier, d’ignorer, d’amnistier et son bénéficiaire. Les langues européennes en tirent la conception du pardon. Par contre, en Grèce ancienne on pardonnait en comprenant ensemble, en entrant dans la raison de l’autre. Cette horizontalité du pardon a été remplacée par la verticalité du pardon qui relève du politique. À partir des traditions grecques et judéo-chrétiennes, puis en passant par la pensée et les actions de Gandhi, Mandela et Martin Luther King, Martha Nussbaum (2016) se penche sur l’actuelle éthique du pardon. Elle reconnait la légitime colère des victimes laquelle afin de briser la condescendance et ouvrir la voie à l’acceptation du pardon libérée du sentiment de rétribution. Son approche semble répondre à l’expérience des victimes des individus en position d’autorité, crimes longtemps tus au nom de maintien de l’ordre social. Dans les récits d’expériences de la mort et de la vie sous le régime soviétique, dont Svetlana Alexievitch (2016) s’est faite historienne/romancière, le pardon de tradition chrétienne occidentale est absent. Le mot n’est prononcé qu’une seule fois et c’est par une femme soldat soviétique racontant comment en Allemagne conquise un soldat soviétique a tiré sur des civiles. En référence au temps de leur rencontre, les années 1990, elle dit à Alexievitch : « De nouveaux mots ont fait leur apparition : « pitié », « pardon » …Mais comment pardonner ? » (2016 : 394). Dans les récits des Soviétiques rassemblés par Alexievitch, le lecteur de sensibilité latine s’étonne de trouver le « comprendre ensemble » de tradition grecque plutôt que le « pardonner ». Tamara Oumniaguina, brancardière à Stalingrad raconte : « Je traîne notre blessé et je pense : « Est-ce que je retourne chercher l’Allemand, ou non ? » […] J’ai continué à les trainer sous les deux. » […] L’homme n’a qu’un seul cœur, et j’ai toujours pensé à préserver le mien. » (2016 : 412). Au plus profond de l’enfer de la déshumanisation, préserver son humanité c’est aussi permettre à l’agresseur de reconstituer la sienne. L’une étant la condition de l’autre, délier l’agresseur de son inhumanité c’est reconstruire l’humanité entière.