On 15 December 2020, a group of leading scholars and experts from Canada, the USA, and Ireland involved in the global campaign to end Myanmar’s genocide of Rohingyas held a legal roundtable, jointly organized by the Free Rohingya Coalition and FORSEA. You can access the full live panel recorded here: https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=830482987771607 Leading scholars’ consensus was loud and clear: neither ICJ nor ICC, in and of themselves, will deliver Rohingyas on their own from their decades-long hell – namely Myanmar’s institutionalized persecution of their community – protected under the Genocide Convention. In their assessment, Myanmar is persecuting this targeted ethnic group, within their historical and demographic pocket along the Bangladesh-Myanmar borderlands with the discernible intent to physically destroy them in whole or in substantial part. Among the panelists were Gregory Stanton, past-President of the International Association of Genocide Scholars and the founding President of Genocide Watch whose 10-stage-model of genocide is widely used by scholars and activists to understand genocidal destruction of national minorities around the world; a US legal expert on genocide prevention Dr. Katherine Southwick who previously worked in the Prosecutor’s Office at the International Criminal Tribunal on former Yugoslavia and who now serves as an independent advisor to the US Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, DC, Michael A Becker, former Associate Legal Officer at the ICJ who now teaches international law at Ireland’s Trinity College, Dublin and who specializes in the international commissions of inquiry and fact-finding missions, and Professor John Packer at the University of Ottawa in Canada who served as a legal assistant to the first UN Special Rapporteur on the human rights situation in Myanmar in 1992-1993. Dr. Maung Zarni, FORSEA co-founder and a UK-based non-resident fellow with the (Genocide) Documentation Center of Cambodia moderated the discussions which were broadcast LIVE on the Free Rohingya Coalition Facebook page. In his introductory remarks, the Burmese host called the panel’s attention to the fact that Bangladesh has embarked on the widely condemned “coercive relocation” of targeted 100,000 Rohingya refugees to an unsafe and isolated island of Bhasan Char. Zarni attributed this widely criticized move by Dhaka to the latter’s frustrations over Myanmar’s palpable lack of any genuine political will to repatriate nearly 1 million Rohingya survivors who fled the past waves of genocidal purges and communal destruction by Myanmar government troops over the last 40 years. More pertinent to the discussion, he pointed out the absence of positive impact, or behavioral, or policy shift among Myanmar leaders as the result of international legal efforts to hold to account both Myanmar as a state party to the Genocide Convention and individual leaders such as the senior and command generals and civilian and religious leaders such as Aung San Suu Kyi and the Saffron-robed monk Wirathu. With admirable clarity, Michael Becker, formerly a legal officer at the ICJ, gave a very likely time frame for the various stages of The Gambia vs Myanmar, the genocide case against Myanmar. The former ICJ legal staff raised the possibility of Myanmar resorting to tactics designed to delay the ICJ case, for instance, repeating its tried and failed challenge of the Court’s jurisdiction over the case, or dismissing and discrediting Gambia’s evidence of genocidal intent which so far rested primarily on the 4-reports of the United Nations Human Rights Council’s International Independent Fact-Finding Mission, presenting the “alternative facts” gathered by its own official International Commission of Enquiry established by Aung San Suu Kyi, Myanmar Agent in the ICJ case. Becker also cautioned against third country interventions in the Gambia vs Myanmar in support of the Gambia, such as has been declared by Canada, the Netherlands, and the Maldives, all state parties to the Genocide Convention. In his view, Myanmar can manipulate these interventions to its advantage to prolong the proceedings. The two other legal experts, John Packer and Gregory Stanton expressed concern about William Schabas's reliance on the ICJ judgments in the Bosnia v Serbia and Croatia v Serbia case. In the Bosnia v Serbia case the ICJ ruled that the state of Serbia (under Milosevic) did not directly commit genocide in Bosnia. But Serbia had failed to fulfill its duty to prevent the Srebrenica genocide against Bosnian Muslims (Bosniaks). In Stanton’s view the Serbian state’s support and direct involvement in the mass murder and destruction against Bosnian Muslims – not just in the infamous Srebrenica genocide but in many different locations – should have prevented the ICJ from reaching that “no violation” ruling. In the Bosnia v Serbia case, the ICJ held that unless genocide - the intentional destruction of a national, ethnic, racial or religious group - was the only intent for a pattern of state actions, the ICJ could not find genocide. If there was another intent - such as "ethnic cleansing" (forcible deportation) - the ICJ could not find the state in violation of the Genocide Convention. The ICJ ignored the fact that the same acts could have two or more intents, both genocide and forced displacement; not either one or the other. The two intents are not mutually exclusive. Stanton argued that the court could repeat that same incorrect reasoning in Gambia’s genocide case: Myanmar’s Canadian lawyer William Schabas, also a past President of the International Association of Genocide Scholars, was pushing the same but false reasoning that prevailed in the Bosnia v Serbia case. According to this only intent theory of genocidal intent, if deportation was the "real" intent, it precludes the other intents, for instance, the intent to destroy the victim group. Indeed, a multiplicity of intents and motives are typically present in human deeds, virtuous or criminal. To argue that when one intent is present, other intents cannot be equally present is nonsensical. Stanton and colleagues have previously published research findings on the disingenuous uses of the term “ethnic cleansing”, a euphemism the late Milosevic used to deny genocide charges in the Bosnian case. The term is used to "bleach the atrocities of genocide" and to paralyze forceful action to stop genocide. Stanton recalled a personal conversation in Sarajevo with the Prosecutor of the ICTY, Carla del Ponte, wherein, to his deep moral outrage, he learned that the ICTY did not share directly case-relevant evidence in the ICTY's possession with the ICJ in the Bosnia v Serbia case "because they didn't ask for it." The ICTY had obtained unredacted records of communications within the top Serbian military command in order to establish individual criminal responsibility of Serbian military and political leaders such as Milosevic. But the ICTY did not share the records with the ICJ despite the fact that the Bosnia v Serbia case was underway in the ICJ, and the two courts are located in the same Dutch city – the Hague. The ICJ, the most powerful court in the world, could have ordered the ICTY to turn over the records. But it did not. Professor John Packer, on his part, expressed his palpable discontent over the fact that the ICJ, the international court of, for and by the (UN member) states, has not factored in or made provisions for the victims of Myanmar’s international state crime in alleged violations of the Genocide Convention, a binding inter-state treaty. He pointed out that the essence of this international legal effort at the ICJ and the ICC will need to be justice for the wronged communities. Besides the ICJ has enormous power that it does not use to ensure that victims are properly represented in the Gambia vs Myanmar genocide case. The panelists agreed that while the ICC makes dedicated efforts to hear victims’ voices and accord them a meaningful role in the criminal proceedings neither the ICJ nor even the Gambia legal team has made any efforts for keeping the victims fully informed, for instance, about Myanmar’s 6-monthly reports which the ICJ has ordered throughout the duration of the court proceedings. Packer reminded Rohingya viewers – and their activist supporters that the Gambia vs Myanmar is primarily about the state of Gambia and what its lawyers decide as to their priorities. This fact in turn necessitates a wider Rohingya-focused campaign to seek justice, as the victims see fit. Panelists did not comment much on the International Criminal Court’s full-investigation into Myanmar’s crimes related to the crime of deportation of large scale Rohingya across the ICC-signatory state of Bangladesh, nor the Universal Jurisdictions case filed at an Argentinian court, using the Pinochet Precedent. Stanton pointed out that the genocide is “not even on the agenda of the ICC” insofar as its investigation of Myanmar’s crimes. Even if the indictments and arrest warrants are issued against Myanmar perpetrators there are some practical and political issues in terms of Interpol’s involvement with Myanmar perpetrators. Having weighed in on this vital issue of justice in the wider, beyond-judicial sense, Dr. Katherine Southwick urged human rights campaigns to leverage these international legal accountability efforts beyond the physical confines of the courts in the Hague. She stressed both the moral and legal obligations of various states and even the Security Council. The specialist on the international rule of law argued that while Myanmar is clearly the perpetrating state other UN member states which are hosting sizeable Rohingya populations need to uphold various legal and moral principles in dealing with large-scale refugee populations on their soil. Some of the host countries such as Bangladesh (and Malaysia) ought to start local integration schemes, instead of trampling on the rights of Rohingyas both as refugees and human persons. Additionally, she argued that even the persistent calls for various UN instruments to refer Myanmar to the Security Council are morally important if only such calls – and expected vetoes by China and Russia – shine the light on the unconscionable failures of Russia and China. With John Packer, she is completely in favor of Third Party intervention in the Gambia vs Myanmar case at the ICJ by as many state parties to the Genocide Convention (out of nearly 150 in total) as can be persuaded. The panelists were also painfully aware that the current Security Council and its veto system has largely failed victim communities around the world, from Palestinians and Khmers of Khmer Rouge Cambodia to present-day Uyghurs, in addition to Rohingyas and many others. For leading UN member states such as the USA and China themselves have acted criminally or provided blanket impunity to their pet clients, or proxy states when the latter commit international state crimes (for instance, the case of the officially Jewish state of Israel against the Palestinians) since the Holocaust ended 70 years ago. Don’t give up! Our hearts are with you Looking at ways to leverage these UN judicial mechanisms, Professor Stanton was strongly in favor of taking Facebook, an extremely effective platform for hate and genocidal racism against Rohingyas, to court for its criminal responsibility and seeking financial compensations for the Rohingya survivors by the billions of US$. The discussions ended with the panelists’ humanistic pledge of solidarity to Rohingya survivors of Myanmar genocide, above and beyond the call of one’s own legal or professional background. Their message: “Don’t give up. Our hearts are with you.” Access the full article here. FORSEA © 2020

Genocide Watch staff have published the sixth Timestream in a series of critical genocides in the world. This Timestream highlights the ongoing genocide of Christians committed by Fulani Jihadists in Nigeria. Extremist Fulanis have committed mass rapes, murders, torture, and massacres, and have permanently displaced Christians and occupied their homes and farmland. Over 12,000 Christians have been killed since June 2015 and 4-5 million have been displaced. Dr. Gregory Stanton has proposed options for investigating the Christian massacres. See the full Timestream here and view our other Timestreams here.

MAPUTO (Reuters) - Militants have forced 570,000 people to flee their homes in Mozambique’s northern Cabo Delgado province, President Filipe Nyusi said on Wednesday, vowing to defeat insurgents who stepped up attacks since pledging loyalty to Islamic State last year. Fighters have been taking on the army and seizing entire towns in recent months in the province, home to gas developments worth some $60 billion. Earlier this week, the U.N. refugee agency UNHCR said at least 424,000 people had fled to neighbouring Niassa, Nampula and Pempa provinces, and warned that the crisis could spread beyond Mozambique’s borders. “Those who are terrorists must be aware that it will be the people who will win this war,” Nyusi said in a televised address to the nation. “We will keep mobilizing humanitarian aid to the victims of terrorists. These acts have forced 570,000 to flee who are now crying to get back to their destroyed homes.” Nyusi said Mozambique had received offers “from all corners of the world” to help it fight terrorism. The government “will keep training and equip our military to fight”, he added. The insurgent group, Ahlu Sunnah Wa-Jama, staged its first attack in 2017. Known at first mainly for crude beheadings, the fighters declared allegiance to Islamic State in June 2019 and since then have massively increased attacks in scale and frequency. Nathan Sales, the Coordinator for Counterterrorism at the U.S. State Department, said last week the insurgents in northern Mozambique belonged to a “committed” affiliate of Islamic State and should be seen as a global terrorism threat. Violence spilled across the border into Tanzania in October, prompting the two countries to launch joint military operations. Reporting by Manuel Mucari; Writing by Olivia Kumwenda-Mtambo; Editing by Peter Graff © Reuters 2020

ICC prosecutor finds ‘reasonable basis to believe’ crimes against humanity were committed in President Rodrigo Duterte’s war on drugs campaign. Human rights advocates say as many as 27,000 people were killed in the drug war as of mid-2019 - including the victims killed by 'unknown gunmen' [File: Bullit Marquez/AP] The International Criminal Court’s (ICC) chief prosecutor said on Monday that there is “reasonable basis to believe” the Philippines has committed crimes against humanity in connection with President Rodrigo Duterte’s so-called war on drugs operation. Fatou Bensouda’s office, in its annual report, said those crimes included murder, torture, infliction of serious physical injury and mental harm. They took place between July 1, 2016 and March 16, 2019. The ICC prosecutor’s office has been examining the Philippines’ case since 2018, focusing in particular on allegations that Duterte and other government officials have actively promoted and encouraged the killing of suspected drug users and dealers, as well as claims that law enforcement officials and unidentified assailants have carried out thousands of unlawful killings in the Philippines. A final decision on a formal ICC investigation could come in the first half of 2021, the report said, attributing the delays to the coronavirus pandemic. Duterte, who assumed office in 2016, has promised a relentless war against drugs – an issue he campaigned on during the presidential election of that same year. On several occasions, the Philippine president had told police officers to “shoot and kill” drug suspects, saying in 2017 that “I will kill more if only to get rid of drugs”. It also said there were thousands of more killings by unidentified assailants, noting there were allegations these murders “were planned, directed, and or/coordinated”, if not actually committed by law enforcement officers themselves. ICC withdrawal According to the Philippine police, at least 5,552 people were killed during police operations between December 2019 and June 30, 2016, the day Duterte was sworn in as president. An earlier report published in June 2019, however, showed a death toll of 6,600. The police did not explain why the number was revised down. Meanwhile, rights advocates say as many as 27,000 people were killed as of mid-2019 – including the victims killed by “unknown gunmen”, some of whom later turned out to be police officers. Among those who were killed were more than a dozen town mayors and other local officials as well as lawyers and judges. Also killed were several minors, who were not linked to any drug activity, but whom the government thought of as “collateral damage”. On several occasions, Duterte has publicly told police officers to ‘shoot and kill’ drug suspects, adding ‘I will kill more if only to get rid of drugs’ [File: EPA] The ICC’s preliminary investigation into the deadly war on drugs in the Philippines had enraged Duterte, prompting Manila to officially withdraw from the international body on March 17, 2019. In his feud with the ICC, Duterte had also threatened Bensouda with arrest if she visited the Philippines to conduct an investigation. He has also referred to Bensouda as “that Black woman”, and called Agnes Callamard, the former UN Special Rapporteur on the Philippine extrajudicial killings, “skinny” and “malnourished”. Both public tirades were denounced as “racist and sexist”. Despite the Philippines’ withdrawal from the ICC, Bensouda’s office noted that it still has jurisdiction to investigate allegations of crimes committed by the state between the time the Philippines signed the Rome Statute in 2011 until its decision to leave on March 16, 2019. It also said the the “exercise of the Court’s jurisdiction is not subject to any time limit”. The Rome Statute is an international treaty that establishes the ICC, which tries genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes and crimes of aggression. It came into force in 2002. In a press briefing on Tuesday, Duterte’s spokesman, Harry Roque, insisted the ICC no longer has jurisdiction over matters in the country. “We do no recognise the jurisdiction of the ICC, so we are not worried,” he said. Although a formal ICC investigation has yet to be decided on, the Philippines-based National Union of People’s Lawyers (NUPL), a critic of the war on drugs, called the latest ICC report as a “very considerable development that has far-reaching repercussions”. “Our government and law enforcers must take this seriously and get the message loud and clear,” Edra Olalia, president of NUPL, said in a statement to Al Jazeera. “While we are still not out of the woods, finally rays of hope have peeked out of the pitch-dark clouds of impunity.” The rights group, Karapatan, also welcomed the ICC’s report saying, “the day of reckoning is coming nearer for Duterte’s reign of terror.” Since the Philippines’ withdrawal from the ICC, its authorities have allegedly continued to carry out human rights abuses. The health emergency and national lockdown due to COVID-19 has not stopped Duterte’s “war on drugs”, with dozens of people reported killed by unknown assailants. Since the last police report in December 2019, police said that more than 300 drug suspects were also killed during police operations as of August 31, 2020. Police said the suspects were killed after they resisted arrest. The Philippine government has only initiated “a limited number of investigations and prosecution” despite the ICC prosecutor highlighting allegations of rights abuses. © 2020 Al Jazeera Media Network

Ethnic Tigray people all over the country report an increase in discrimination and abuse from the authorities. ADDIS ABABA, Ethiopia — On a bright day in mid-November, about a dozen police officers with machine guns barged into the home of Lisanewerk Desta, a theologian who is the head of the library and museum department at the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, and got to work. The men, who had no warrant, Mr. Lisanewerk said, poured dried goods from his kitchen onto the floor, emptied his clothes drawers and even looked inside his clay coffee pot, seemingly searching for something to incriminate him. They confiscated only one item, he said: his Ethiopian identification card, which shows that he is from the Tigray ethnic group. “I’m a scholar of the church, I’ve got nothing to be afraid of,” said Mr. Lisanewerk, who in an interview at his home shared photos and videos that his daughter had surreptitiously recorded of the raid. “But now I am under suspicion.” Tigrayans belong to one of about eight major ethnic groups in Ethiopia, and for nearly three decades, they were the dominant force in the country’s politics. But life for many Tigrayans began to change in early November after Ethiopia’s prime minister, Abiy Ahmed, launched a military operation in the northern region of Tigray, whose leaders have resisted Mr. Abiy’s drive to centralize power in the federal government. Nearly 50,000 Tigrayans have fled the country, in what the United Nations has called the worst exodus of refugees Ethiopia has seen in more than two decades. Since then, many ethnic Tigrayans who live in the capital and other parts of Ethiopia say they have been treated like criminal suspects and subjected to various forms of discrimination, harassment and abuse by government officials. They report being detained without charges, put under house arrest, and barred from traveling outside the country. Tigrayans say they have had their businesses shut down, homes ransacked and money extorted by security officials. Several Tigrayans who live outside Ethiopia said they hadn’t heard for weeks from family members who were taken away suddenly to police stations and prisons. Some Tigrayan members of the Ethiopian military forces are being held in detention centers around the country, their families said. The reports of ethnic profiling of Tigrayans, who represent about 6 percent of Ethiopia’s population of 110 million, are alarming to the delicate mix of people and power that makes up Ethiopia. The country is an uneasy confederation of 10 ethnically identified states, including Tigray, where fighting continues even though the national government has declared victory. The moves have drawn concern from the United Nations Office on Genocide Prevention, which said that cases of ethnic profiling constituted “a dangerous trajectory that heightens the risk of genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity.” Ethiopia’s attorney general, Gedion Timothewos, acknowledged last month that there had been “isolated incidents” in which law enforcement agencies “acted out of line.” But he said that the government takes the issue of ethnic profiling very seriously, and that it would establish a dedicated hotline for the public to report their complaints. “We are doing everything within our power to make sure there will not be arbitrary or discriminatory measures,” he said, adding, “This is something that the government denounced.” While the fighting has so far been confined to the Tigray region in the north, Tigrayan civilians in other parts of the country say they are feeling the spillover effects. The 35-year-old manager of an accounting firm — who for fear of retribution from the government asked to be identified only by his given name, Sharon, which like many Ethiopians he also uses as his surname — said that last month his house in the Ethiopian capital, Addis Ababa, was raided by security officers in plain clothes who tore open his mattress and couch and smashed his washing machine. “The problem here now is if you have any blood from Tigray, you are being discriminated” against, Mr. Sharon, who is of mixed ethnic Tigray and Amhara heritage, said. “This kind of fight, it won’t end.” Mr. Sharon tried to help his sister when her house, too, was raided. A few days later, he went missing, and has not been heard from since, according to his family and close friends. For almost three decades, the Tigrayans were at the center of power in Ethiopia after they led the guerrilla war that toppled the Marxist regime that had ruled the country from the mid-1970s until 1991. But after antigovernment protests swept Mr. Abiy to power in 2018, leaders of the Tigrayan ethnic group were arrested and expelled from key positions — opening a wide gulf between the national government and the Tigray region, which is governed by the Tigray People’s Liberation Front, the party that used to exert national power. While the government is suspicious that ethnic Tigrayans throughout Ethiopia are supporting the liberation front, many of those interviewed said they had no affiliation with the party. Others said they were former or current members, but even so, it did not make them antigovernment subversives. “I was a member for 10 years but am no longer directly involved,” said Mr. Lisanewerk. The latest conflict has aggravated the growing political divide in Africa’s second-most-populous nation, between pro-centralization Ethiopians like Mr. Abiy and those supporting ethnic self-rule, said Yohannes Gedamu, an Ethiopian lecturer of political science at Georgia Gwinnett College, in Lawrenceville, Ga. The ethnocentric nature of Ethiopian politics makes “law enforcement and any criminal investigations difficult to conduct without looking at the ethnic element,” he said. “It’s saddening.” In Addis Ababa, a state-backed condominium project sent a letter, which was seen by The New York Times, that suspended 10 Tigrayans, including drivers and site surveyors. Security firms owned by Tigrayans have been suspended in the capital, with diplomats in three embassies confirming that, as a result, they have had to search for new security companies. The purge is also taking place in state-owned companies like Ethio Telecom, the country’s major internet and telephone provider. In the days after the conflict began in November, officers arrived at a branch of Ethio Telecom in Addis Ababa and detained a maintenance manager and a senior director, both of Tigrayan descent, according to an employee who spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of reprisals. The company’s chief executive officer did not respond to requests for comment. The authorities have also targeted journalists. Since the conflict began, Bekalu Alamrew, a reporter with the Awlo Media Center, an outlet owned by Tigrayans, was detained for over two weeks without being formally charged. One accusation the police leveled against him was that he was in contact with the liberation front, according to Muthoki Mumo, the sub-Saharan Africa representative for the Committee to Protect Journalists. This is “a strange allegation,” Ms. Mumo said, “given that journalists have to communicate with different political actors in order to do their jobs.” (Mr. Bekalu has since been released.) The authorities have also recently arrested other journalists (most Tigrayan, but also one who was not but who reported on Tigrayan issues) And they expelled a senior analyst with the International Crisis Group, a policy organization whose headquarters are in Brussels. The mistreatment of Tigrayans in Ethiopia is now worrying their families who live abroad. Mahlet Gebremedhin, 26, who lives in Baltimore, said that a cousin who owns a mattress company in Addis Ababa was arrested on Nov. 19 and has not been heard from since. The authorities told another family member that his company accounts are being investigated to see whether he is aiding the Tigray People’s Liberation Front. The conflict is also affecting ethnic Tigrayans who want to leave Ethiopia. Civil aviation authorities have started asking Ethiopian passengers leaving the country to show not just their passports, but their identity cards, which state their ethnic affiliation — according to a letter from the Ethiopian Human Rights Commission seen by The Times. Daniel Bekele, who leads the Ethiopian Human Rights Commission, said in an interview that the commission was “alarmed by the rising number of complaints from people who have been stopped from traveling, including on work missions, for medical treatment or studies.” After raising the issue with the government, Mr. Bekele said the authorities had stopped checking travelers’ ethnic identities — even as other Tigrayans have continued to report otherwise. Even the C.E.O. of the national carrier, Ethiopian Airlines, who is an ethnic Tigrayan, was barred from leaving the country earlier this month, according to a pilot at the airline and a foreign diplomat who spoke on the condition of anonymity because of the sensitivity of the matter. The pilot said that the C.E.O., Tewolde GebreMariam, was prevented from boarding a flight to Paris on Nov. 8 because of his strong links to senior members of the T.P.L.F. Mr. Tewolde himself could not be reached for comment. Henok Sirak, a spokesman for the airline, declined to comment. There are also reports that Tigrayans are being purged from Ethiopia’s armed forces. Yared, who also gave only his first name for fear of reprisals, said his father, a communications operator in the federal army, had traveled north to the border with Tigray with his unit on Nov. 2. But on Nov. 9, he texted that his phone was being confiscated and that he was being imprisoned. He has not heard from his father since. Mr. Lisanewerk, the theologian, said his recent experience had dampened his faith in his own country. He said that his father had fought for his country against the military regime that was toppled in 1991, but that today, his own countrymen are treating his people as a foreign entity. “To tell the truth, I’m not Ethiopian,” he said. “I’m Tigrayan now.” Source: New York Times

Published by The Africa Report on December 3, 2020. Kenyan President Uhuru Kenyatta and former Prime Minister Raila Odinga (Getty Images) Kenya is planning to re-introduce the positions of a prime minister with two deputies, along with a leader of official opposition, in changes contained in a constitutional amendment bill proposed by President Uhuru Kenyatta and his former rival Raila Odinga. The bill is part of the Building Bridges Initiative (BBI) taskforce that was created shortly after the 2018 détente between Kenyatta and Odinga. It followed from the 2017 elections that had reignited political controversy with Odinga accusing Kenyatta of stealing the elections after his campaign for electoral reform. Kenyatta and Odinga launched the bill on Wednesday 25 November, kickstarting a process that could see the East African nation hold a referendum mid-2021. Speaking at the launch, Kenyatta said: “The need for change of our constitution has been with us for some time. It has been evident in the never-ending threat of post-election violence; in the growing feelings that its design lacks inclusivity; and that it promotes unfair and skewed representation, and unfair distribution of national resources.” He added that the need to “strengthen the 2010 constitution” is imperative in order for Kenya to further progress. The last time such comprehensive constitutional reforms were done was just after independence in 1963. Revamping the executive and legislature structures Among its most prominent proposals are changes in the structure of the executive and the legislature, with the creation of a premier and two deputies from the majority party in parliament. It also proposes to revive the pre-2010 direct link between the cabinet and the legislature, by allowing for ministers (and their deputies) to be appointed from among legislators. Other proposals include: Creating 70 new electoral constituencies, which will increase the country’s legislature to 360 members. Part of the changes to legislature also include an affirmative action formula meant to solve a two thirds’ gender rule embedded in the 2010 constitution. Creating an independent judiciary ombudsman, meant to investigate and prosecute complaints against judicial officers; one of the more contentious proposals. Several state measures to protect the economy, including protecting intellectual property rights, supporting businesses, and promoting science and technology in production. According to a timetable contained in the bill, most of the changes will be done in six months to two years after the referendum. The timeline means that most of its implementation would fall in the remainder of Kenyatta’s term; just in time to shape the 2022 General elections. Ruto vs Odinga While Kenyatta’s deputy, William Ruto, was missing from the bill’s launch, he has said in several tweets since that some of his earlier recommendations were included in the final bill. Ruto is also pushing for an uncontested referendum, a fairly new sticking point in his discomfort with Odinga’s unofficial presence in government. But in response to a national headline implying that Ruto was “cornered”, he said the bill had achieved “tremendous progress”, noting that a non-divisive vote would be the best option on deciding the final version. Odinga, on the other hand, stresses that a referendum process must have two sides, questioning the wording of Ruto’s recommendation. “I need to be taken to a political school and receive lessons on what this so-called non-contested referendum is. Then why do have it if it’s non-contested?” asked Odinga. Opposition to the bill One million signatures of registered voters are required to back the draft bill. On 30 November, the secretariat navigating the bill through the constitutional safeguard measures announced that it had collected more than 1.5 million signatures from registered voters. The signature collection is just the first stage of such a proposal’s life, as the signatures have to be verified before the bill is sent to the 47 county assemblies. In the absence of clear opposition from Ruto, who provided political firepower to a similar dissenting campaign a decade ago, several independent politicians and civil society leaders are laying the groundwork for an opposition. Prominent names among them include economist and public intellectual David Ndii, who was one of Odinga’s strategists in 2017. Under the banner of Linda Katiba (Protect the Constitution), Ndii, politicians Martha Karua and Boniface Mwangi, and activists Jerotich Seii and Daisy Amdany are working to garner popular support to oppose the bill. “Our constitution is fine,” Ndii said at a press conference in Nairobi on 30 November. “It has survived ten years of various types of assault. The independence constitution was not so lucky.” At least three county governors have also filed for advisory opinions from the Supreme Court seeking answers on questions that might affect the bill itself or its timelines. Bottom line Ruto and Odinga are widely considered favourites to succeed President Kenyatta when his last term expires in 2022. While the bill is partially Odinga’s brainchild, the election to succeed Kenyatta is still 20 months away and much could change between now and then. Part of Ruto’s game plan appears to be to let the process continue on with his lukewarm support. If it succeeds, then it would only make building a coalition in 2022 easier because he would have a wider range of state positions to offer, and none of the political baggage that would come with opposing it. If it fails, then it would either give him ample political ammunition against Odinga in the elections, or none at all. But the absence of a prominent political figure in the opposing side could also elevate another politician not among the ‘Big Three’ into a national figure capable of mounting a challenge to both Ruto’s and Odinga’s plans for 2022. It is, after all, exactly how Ruto built a national profile by opposing the 2010 constitution, which he built into a political party and wound up becoming Kenyatta’s number 2. Copyright © 2020 The Africa Report. All Rights Reserved.

Re-elected on 31 October in the wake of an election disputed by his opponents, the president seems determined to open up the playing field. Will this be enough to reconcile a newly-divided country? Published by The Africa Report on November 30, 2020. Ivorian President Alassane Ouattara is seeking re-election. (Sia Kambou/AFP) Alassane Ouattara’s motorcade zooms by in the Abidjan night. On this 31 October, Côte d’Ivoire’s economic capital – more often than not choked and jammed with traffic – looks like a ghost town. After being picked up from his home in the Riviera neighbourhood, the president is on his way to the headquarters of the Rally of Houphouëtists for Democracy and Peace (RHDP) party, located in the nearby Deux-Plateaux section of the city. Prime Minister Hamed Bakayoko and Adama Bictogo, the party’s executive director, await him there. Given that Henri Konan Bédié and Pascal Affi N’Guessan boycotted the presidential election held that same day, Ouattara’s victory is already in the bag. For all that, the atmosphere is not a festive one. An angry president While the election went off without a hitch in the northern part of the country and in Abidjan, the same could not be said for many localities in central and south-eastern Côte d’Ivoire. The voting process in these regions was either disrupted or simply called off altogether. Even the capital, Yamoussoukro, appropriately nicknamed “the sleeping beauty”, was not spared. The president was caught off guard by the situation and is angry about it. Twelve days later, on the afternoon of 12 November, when Ouattara summoned members of his administration and RHDP-affiliated figures hailing from the 16 regions impacted by election-related violence, the head of state had still not fully processed the election-day debacle. In the meantime, the Constitutional Council had confirmed his victory (with 94.27% of the vote). The outcome was recognised by the African Union (AU), ECOWAS and France. French President Emmanuel Macron even sent him a letter of congratulations. But at this point in time, the violence that erupted after Ouattara announced his presidential bid on 6 August has yet to end. Government motorcades have been targeted. According to the latest figures provided by the authorities, at least 87 lives have been lost. To address this human toll, on 12 November the president brought his team to account. Similar to the way he was blindsided by the civil unrest that rocked the beginning of his second term in 2016, he fails to understand how these kinds of incidents could occur in areas he feels he has been particularly attentive to. He said he was disappointed by the limited progress achieved given “the investments” made as well as by the lack of action taken by some officials in the room. As he spoke in front of the group gathered for the meeting, he went as far as to say that he felt “betrayed”, as if his pride had been wounded. ‘A partial victory’ “Beneath his rhetoric, Ouattara is aware of the situation surrounding his election,” said a diplomatic source from the sub-region. An Ivorian minister who asked to remain anonymous confirmed: “It’s a partial victory. On the one hand, the president managed to organise the election despite threats emanating from the opposition. On the other hand, it has put a dent in his reputation. Privately, he hoped everyone would come out to vote for him. He believes that no one other than Félix Houphouët-Boigny has done as much for this country.” After Amadou Gon Coulibaly, Ouattara’s prime minister and hand-picked successor under the banner of the RHDP, died unexpectedly on 8 July, his decision to pick up the torch was made in less than 48 hours. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it all planned out,” he told an old friend back in 2017. “If Amadou isn’t up to it, I’ll stand for election.” Despite the criticism he attracted as well as reluctance from some friends and allegations that he was subverting the Constitution, he never deviated from his trajectory after Coulibaly’s death, confident that he was within his rights and had no other alternative if he wanted to prevent his party from imploding and to maintain his grip on power. His supporters describe him as strong and determined, while his opponents say he is uncompromising and looks the other way. A curious and affable epicurean in private, he sometimes shows another side of his personality in the corridors of the presidential palace. Like many a “boss”, he often stands his ground and hates being strong-armed. According to one of his old friends, “He’s a tough cookie! If he wasn’t that way, he wouldn’t be president.” Anyone who has ever tried to bend him to their will has learned their lesson the hard way. On 4 September, when Macron received Ouattara at the Élysée Palace, the French president still hoped he would be able to persuade him to change his mind. But when Macron brought up – as diplomatically as possible – the idea of postponing the election, he came up against a wall. Nor did the Ivorian head of state budge in early October, as the campaign’s official kick-off drew closer and diplomatic efforts to reach a compromise intensified. Ouattara directed a reassuring narrative at his concerned counterparts. He said he was ready to open up the playing field and spoke of putting together an inclusive administration, granting amnesty and reforming the Independent Electoral Commission (CEI). But after the presidential election, and not beforehand, as some had been calling for. For the Ivorian president and his close associates, 31 October was a hurdle they needed to overcome at any cost. In their view, postponing the election would leave an opening for the opposition’s dream of creating a transitional government. So, he needed to press forward with the election and nip any dissent in the bud. Demonstrations were prohibited and arrests stepped up – it mattered little that Ouattara’s regime was giving off the impression of slipping into authoritarian territory and attracting the ire of human rights organisations. “We had to stand up for ourselves since the opposition’s goal was clearly to take down the regime,” said a close ally of the president. “They have been convinced since June 2017 that the population was so disaffected that Ouattara wouldn’t be able to finish his term. Our rivals were counting on a popular uprising that would establish a transitional government with the help of those in the army working for Guillaume Soro. Bédié would be its leader. He would have permitted the country’s political exiles to return and been in charge of organising new elections after an 18-month period.” On 15 November, speaking from the platform at Treichville stadium, Bakayoko went straight to the point: “The opposition asked low-ranking soldiers to lead a revolt, to carry out a coup.” The authorities maintain they have evidence that several members of Bédié, Soro and Albert Mabri Toikeusse’s entourage were involved in these plans. Ouattara saw red When the opposition announced, the day after the election, that they no longer recognised the government’s authority and would set up a National Transitional Council (CNT) headed by Bédié, Ouattara saw red. “There can’t be two leaders!” he said. With his legitimacy challenged, the president decided to take firm action. On 3 November, security forces carried out a large-scale operation at the homes of the president of the Democratic Party of Côte d’Ivoire (PDCI), N’Guessan, Toikeusse and Assoa Adou. Several individuals were arrested. N’Guessan, who fled, was intercepted a few days later. All were charged with sedition. “It was a risky bet, but Ouattara came out on top and succeeded in doing so with the help of the opposition, which were no match for him,” said Arsène Bado, vice president for academic affairs at the Abidjan-based Centre for Research and Action for Peace (CERAP). “But his election raises a number of issues. He has some serious work to do to win back the trust of a segment of the population. The rift has grown deeper.” North-south divide and cultural isolationism Ten years after a politico-military crisis that split Côte d’Ivoire into two from 2002 to 2011, the northern and southern regions are still divided. The divide has less to do with geography than social and political variables. Within the head of state’s inner circle and those who have backed him since the creation of the Rally of the Republicans (RDR) party, the election seems to have cast a long shadow. “Almost 80% of the people who voted on 31 October are from the north,” said a person close to the president. “There’s cultural isolationism, this sense that we will never be fully accepted by southerners,” a government official added. Within a diverse opposition, resentment towards the regime has also taken a cultural turn at times, with Bédié’s entourage – and sometimes the former president himself – making extremely violent remarks about the “Dyulas” [a Mande ethnic group inhabiting several West African countries]. An ease in tensions appears to be much-needed. Aware that the situation was not sustainable and under pressure from France to open up the playing field, Ouattara resolved to change the electoral calendar and pull back on his grip somewhat. Legislative elections postponed Though he initially planned on organising legislative elections shortly (21 December was floated as a date), he decided to postpone them until the first half of 2021. The election date will be set depending on the progress made in talks initiated with Bédié on 11 November at the Heden Golf Hotel. In the interim, Ouattara will be inaugurated after a brief holiday in the south of France. The ceremony is scheduled to take place on 14 December. He wants it to be low key and plans to invite just a few of his close counterparts and family members. He will then form a new government, with a few surprises expected in terms of his appointees. Will the resumed talks with Bédié result in an agreement? Aside from the Heden Golf Hotel meeting, the two former allies spoke on 20 November, but the talks could go on for several months. While the former president is prepared, according to several sources, to make concessions, the same cannot be said for some members in his entourage – including his wife – and party. This faction continues to view Ouattara’s third term as illegal and believes that voter turnout was actually significantly lower than what the authorities announced (53.90%). The head of state has no intention of caving in to those who hold such views, just as he continues to oppose the appointment of an outside mediator. For now, he objects to releasing the jailed opposition members. Soro still perceived as a threat More than anything else, he does not want to hear about Soro, who, on 4 November, called on the army to revolt. Isolated and weakened, moving between France (whose government recently told him he was no longer welcome), Switzerland, Belgium and Dubai, the former National Assembly president is still perceived as a threat. And then there is Laurent Gbagbo. At the beginning of November, Ouattara gave orders to issue Gbagbo both a diplomatic and an official passport. But the conundrum of the former president’s return, whose proceedings before the International Criminal Court (ICC) are ongoing, is nonetheless yet to be resolved. “If the talks with the opposition drag on for too long, Ouattara could shut everything down. He isn’t comfortable with openness and dialogue,” said one of his confidants. “Maybe it’s because his entire career has been built on adversity.” According to those who know him, he sees politics as a question of balance of power. His mantra: assert your power before negotiating, wield the stick and then the carrot. But what other options does he have than to make peace? Can he afford to have a segment of the political class as an enemy? Will he be able to govern for five years under these conditions? Though he believes he has the upper hand, he has less room for manoeuvre: the head of state also has to look over his shoulder. Within his own camp, the race to name a successor is already under way. Coulibaly’s death has revived political appetites and the clash of ambitions. During the presidential campaign, some party officials seemed ready to look ahead to the post-Ouattara era, prioritising their personal interests at the local level in terms of the upcoming legislative elections over those of their candidate. Others appeared to be on the verge of switching sides if the balance of power were to tip in favour of the opposition. Is ‘Petit Pasqua’ next in line? Two potential successors have emerged: Bakayoko and Patrick Achi. Appointed prime minister on 30 July, Bakayoko is a step ahead of his rival given the pivotal role he has played in maintaining stability. But the politician Ouattara calls “Petit Pasqua” has his work cut out for him if he is going to be successful in asserting his authority over the RHDP, a party fraught with several competing factions and also home to some of his enemies. Bakayoko is expected to retain his prime ministership for a few more months before, perhaps, being appointed vice president, a post that has been vacant since Daniel Kablan Ducan resigned. If this scenario plays out, Achi could end up taking over as prime minister, as he also has a number of strengths: his experience as minister of state and secretary general of the presidency means he has the technocratic background Ouattara deeply prizes. Over the past three years, he has become an essential part of the president’s entourage. Coulibaly’s death only reinforced his status. “2021 could be like 2012, when a leadership war broke out between Bakayoko and Soro,” a high-level Ivorian security official told us. “But the president won’t be able to build a trust-based relationship like the one he had with Coulibaly [which was developed over three decades]. He’s going to have to clean house, keep things competitive and identify other potential successors if he hopes to retain control of the process.” Copyright © 2020 The Africa Report. All Rights Reserved.

HARARE (Reuters) - At least 400,000 people have fled militant attacks in northern Mozambique, the United Nations refugee agency said, warning that the crisis could quickly spread beyond the country’s borders if regional neighbours did not help tackle the insurgency. Mozambique’s northernmost province of Cabo Delgado, home to gas developments worth some $60 billion, is grappling with an insurgency linked to Islamic State that has gathered pace this year, with insurgents regularly taking on the army and seizing entire towns. Valentin Tapsoba, the southern African head of the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR), said families who were rebuilding their lives after the destruction caused by Cyclone Kenneth in 2019 have had to flee from militant attacks. “This is a situation starting in one country but if all the countries don’t get their act together to tackle it and wait too long, it could spread within the sub-region,” Tapsoba told Reuters by phone from Pempa in Mozambique. Zimbabwe presidential spokesman George Charamba said leaders from Mozambique, Zimbabwe, South Africa, Botswana and Tanzania were set to meet in Maputo on Monday over the insurgency. Tapsoba said 424,000 people have fled the insurgency to Niassa, Nampula and Pempa and that the number could rise. He said Mozambican authorities put the figure at 570,000. On Friday the Mozambican government, together with UN agencies and other local non governmental groups, will launch an international appeal for funding to help those fleeing Cabo Delgado, Tapsoba said. UNHCR had raised a third of the $19.2 million it requires for shelter, water and sanitation and food next year, said Tapsola. “The numbers are still growing ... so it is a very big concern,” he said. The onset of the rainy season could make it difficult to reach the camps where thousands are living, which would be “a nightmare for these people,” he added. © Reuters 2020, Reporting by MacDonald Dzirutwe; editing by Richard Pullin

Tom Phillips in Duque de Caxias Mon 7 Dec 2020 18.43 GMT Shooting of cousins aged just four and seven, allegedly by police, heightens calls for national reckoning over ‘genocide’. Ana Lúcia Silva Moreira, 38, mother of Emily Victoria Silva dos Santos, four, and aunt of Rebeca Beatriz Rodrigues dos Santos, seven holds photos of the two girls during a protest in Duque de Caxias, Rio de Janeiro state. Photograph: Bruna Prado/AP The shooting of two young black girls – who had between them enjoyed fewer than 11 years of life – has sparked outrage in Brazil and intensified the debate over police violence and structural racism in a country still grappling with the legacy of slavery. Emily Victoria Moreira dos Santos and Rebeca Beatriz Rodrigues Santos, cousins aged four and seven, were killed on Friday night as they played outside their grandmother’s home in Barro Vermelho, a redbrick favela on Rio’s rundown northern fringe. Their deaths took the number of children killed in Rio this year to eight, nearly all of them black, like most Brazilian murder victims. “I feel crushed, but I’m going to find the strength to fight – for Emily, for Rebeca, and for all the other girls, because black lives matter,” vowed Emily’s mother, Ana Lúcia Silva Moreira, who believes police were responsible for the shooting. “I wasn’t raising my daughter so she could become part of a statistic.” Witnesses claimed they had seen a police officer shoot into the community at about 8.30 pm that night, although Rio’s military police has denied its agents opened fire. “It’s because they’re cowards,” the victim’s uncle, André da Silva Moreira, fumed as he and his sister relived the crime on Monday morning in a plaza near their home in the city of Duque de Caxias. Children holding dolls covered with fake blood stand next to a sign that reads in Portuguese ‘Stop killing our children’. Photograph: Bruna Prado/AP “And because we’re black too,” Ana Lúcia, a 38-year-old street hawker, cut in. “You know what rights we have in this country?” asked André, 45. “The right to become a slab of meat in the hands of our governors.” The shootings, part of a remorseless wave of infant deaths in a city awash with high-caliber rifles, sparked an immediate outcry. Former president Dilma Rousseff slammed the “veritable carnage” being unleashed on Rio’s poorest communities by the police’s “utter lack of control”. The black philosopher Djamila Ribeiro declared: “This is a genocidal country.” One of the most moving protests came from Thiago Amparo, a black public intellectual. “There comes a point where tears can no longer express our pain,” he wrote in the Folha de São Paulo, demanding: “Who will answer for the genocide that is underway?” On Sunday scores of mourners and activists gathered in Duque de Caxias carrying dolls smothered with fake blood and banners reading: “Stop Killing Us” and “Vidas Negras Importam” (Black Lives Matter). Rio’s acting governor, Cláudio Castro, promised a “rigorous” inquiry into the deaths and said he favored a security policy that was based on intelligence and sought to protect lives. Cecília Olliveira, a public security specialist and journalist, said the killings captured perfectly the futility and racial bias of Brazil’s unceasing “war on drugs” which claims thousands of mostly black lives each year. “What happened to these two children, in a predominantly black and poor neighborhood far from the center of Rio, is the synthesis of what Brazil chose as its public security policy: the extermination of invisible and quote-unquote ‘undesirable’ people,” Olliveira said. Statistics make clear the bloodshed’s racial skew. Alexsandro dos Santos, center, is helped by friends during the burial of his four-year-old daughter Emily Victoria Silva dos Santos/ Photograph: Silvia Izquierdo/AP Fifty-six percent of Brazil’s 211 million citizens identify as black or brown but last year nearly 80% of those killed by police and 75% of murder victims were black. One of the most recent victims was João Alberto Silveira Freitas, a 40-year-old father-of-four who was beaten to death by security guards outside a Carrefour supermarket in Porto Alegre on the eve of Brazil’s black awareness day. That horrific attack, which was caught on camera, sparked street protests in several major cities and was compared to the killing of George Floyd in the US. Flávia Oliveira, a prominent black broadcaster, called such killings part of “the toxic legacy of slavery” in a country that was the last western nation to abolish the practice, in May 1888. Brazil’s failure to offer education, land, or compensation to hundreds of thousands of newly emancipated slaves meant that more than 130 years later profound inequalities persisted, with black Brazilians earning less, living worse, and being killed more often than their white counterparts. “Brazil remains a country that is built on the privileges of white people,” Oliveira said. Olliveira, the security specialist, said she had no doubt about the racial dimension to the slayings of João Alberto, Emily and Rebeca. “What these cases tell us, in such brazen, crystal-clear terms, is that black lives do not matter in Brazil,” Olliveira said, spurning recent claims from the country’s vice-president, Hamilton Mourão, that racism did not exist. Relatives of Emily and Rebecca also scoffed at Mourão’s remarks as they gathered to demand justice for the girls, who were shot in the head and chest and whose final moments are too horrifying to describe. The girls are buried at the Nossa Senhora das Gracas cemetery in Duque de Caxias, Rio de Janeiro state, at the weekend. Photograph: NGO Rio de Paz/AFP/Getty Images “She was going to turn five on 23 December,” Ana Lúcia Silva Moreira said of her daughter, recalling how she had bought Emily a Moana Disney princess costume for the party they had planned. Instead, she was buried in it on Saturday afternoon in a tatty concrete grave. Rebeca’s grandmother, Lídia da Silva Moreira Santos, said she had just returned home from a 12-hour shift at the hospital where she cleans a Covid-19 ward when she heard gunfire she was adamant came from the police. “She was my only granddaughter … my flesh and blood – and they took her from me in the most ridiculous, cruel, and brutish way possible. They didn’t have the right to do that,” the 51-year-old said. “It’s insane – just insane.” The two girls smiled out from Santos’s white T-shirt, printed in memory of youngsters she considered her “princesses”. “Emily and Rebeca,” read the tribute below, “Words cannot express the sadness I feel right now.” See article here. © 2020 The Guardian

A recent military crackdown shows the country still hasn’t escaped the legacy of a brutal civil war. This article was originally published by the Institute of Current World Affairs in D.C. SAN SALVADOR, El Salvador—This country’s brutal civil war ended nearly 30 years ago, but it many ways, it still feels like a battleground. Soldiers in combat gear patrol the streets alongside heavily armed police; razor wire runs atop many buildings and homes. Those who can afford to do so live in gated communities with private security, while guards stand at the entrance of many businesses. These days, however, they seem to spend most of their time taking customers’ temperatures and directing them to the hand sanitizer. In February, at the direction of President Nayib Bukele, soldiers occupied parliament in an attempt to pressure lawmakers into approving an increase in military funding. Weeks later, Bukele ordered one of the world’s longest and most restrictive pandemic lockdowns. Military checkpoints were set up around the country, and those deemed to be violating quarantine were arrested. When the legislature and courts attempted to block these moves, Bukele accused them of “being on the side of the disease” and refused to follow the courts’ orders. Human rights defenders who challenged the military’s actions were threatened—as were journalists who published investigative reports critical of the president and his Cabinet. While Bukele took office in June 2019, these tensions are decades-old. Scholars generally agree about the basic facts of El Salvador’s civil war, which lasted from 1980 until 1992: A small but powerful economic elite, supported by the military, resisted demands for reform and became increasingly repressive, leading the left-wing opposition to organize and take up arms. As part of its Cold War “containment” policy, the United States provided funding and military support to the right-wing government. War crimes were committed by both sides, but the United Nations later found that U.S.-backed Salvadoran government troops and their allies were behind most of them. Perhaps the worst atrocity—the massacre of around 1,000 innocent villagers in the hamlet of El Mozote on Dec. 11, 1981—looms large over society in El Salvador today, pushing the country into a constitutional crisis and raising crucial questions about justice, memory, and the country’s fragile institutions. On that day, the elite Atlacatl Battalion invaded El Mozote and killed virtually all of its inhabitants, raping the women and desecrating the bodies. Although American journalists publicized the event several weeks later, and a 1993 U.N. Truth Commission report criticized the government for failing to investigate it, the perpetrators seemed destined to get away with it. Shortly after the commission’s report was released, El Salvador’s legislative assembly passed a sweeping amnesty law aimed at absolving the military commanders responsible for ordering the assault. It took two decades for the Salvadoran government to apologize—though there was still no meaningful attempt to investigate the massacre. Then, in 2016, El Salvador’s Supreme Court found the amnesty law unconstitutional, leading to a historic moment that same year, when a local judge, Jorge Guzmán, reopened the case against more than a dozen former top military officers. The prosecutor general called witnesses to testify about what had happened, but the military archives remained closed. Requests to the United States to release its own records related to the massacre have gone unanswered. In 2019, Guzmán ordered the military to open its archives to allow court-appointed inspectors to search for evidence that could shed light on who was responsible for the massacre at El Mozote. Then came Bukele: Having run on a platform of being the first “postwar” president, he promised that his administration would open the archives “from A to Z,” claiming, “the only way to heal the wounds of the past is for the truth to be known.” But this June, he suddenly reversed course, citing concerns about national security—the same argument made by every previous administration. Guzmán rejected that claim and scheduled the inspections at eight locations throughout the country between Sept. 21 and Nov. 13. When he and his team arrived at the first stop, a military base in San Salvador, they were blocked by soldiers before being confronted by a top Defense Ministry official clad in fatigues. Days earlier, the military and police, along with health officials, were deployed to several towns, while a number of others—including San Francisco Gotera, where the case was being heard—were blockaded for “sanitary reasons.” Movement was restricted while coronavirus tests were administered. In a Sept. 23 address to the nation, Bukele railed against his enemies, including the courts, the human rights ombudsman, and U.S. lawmakers who had sent him a letter expressing concern. He also accused Guzmán of being motivated by allegiance to leftist guerrillas and a desire to tarnish the image of the government and military. Salvadorans themselves continue to disagree about what happened during the war. The health ministry denied those deployments were politically motivated, claiming the soldiers were simply protecting health workers. But experts pointed out that the government’s own pandemic statistics did not suggest that infections in these towns were higher than in other parts of the country. Instead of ensuring public health, the deployment of troops to onetime guerrilla strongholds—and the very town whose court Bukele is defying—made for a disturbing scene. Salvadorans have watched with familiar unease as the clash between Guzmán and the military has unfolded. Security protocols have been stepped up at human rights organizations, especially those associated with the case, as many still recall the disappearances and murders of lawyers and activists who dared to stand up to the military and elites. These days, the most visible attacks take place on Twitter; Bukele’s enthusiastic followers denounce anyone they consider to be his enemies. More complicated still, Salvadorans themselves continue to disagree about what happened during the war, as well as about who was to blame. Some see the guerrillas as freedom fighters, while others consider them terrorists who provoked the military. Either way, many Salvadorans believe the military is central to the country’s fragile stability: Soldiers take an active role in law enforcement, which includes reining in the street gangs blamed for much of the country’s ongoing violence. But as a friend and local human rights lawyer, Marina Ortiz, recently reminded me: “Militarization is not necessary in a democracy.” Those I’ve spoken to have floated a few theories about Bukele’s apparent change of heart but most boil down to a single one: “He’s the same as the rest.” The economic elite and the military, many believe, are still on the same side ruling the country. Either way, says Ortiz, “If the president was actually committed to justice, he would act differently.” Still, she adds that Guzmán’s initiative is a huge step forward, since in the past, the judicial branch would have likely colluded with the cover-up. In the weeks following the standoff, the military presence on the streets seemed to increase. On a recent Sunday night, my partner and I decided to drive past the Paseo el Carmen, a popular strip of bars and restaurants in the Santa Tecla suburb, to see how it looked following the coronavirus lockdown. We noticed three soldiers in fatigues walking down the sidewalk—a quotidian sight—but something felt different than usual. Instead of simply strolling along, they were walking with purpose, gripping the automatic weapons that usually hang from their shoulders. After turning the corner, we saw a group of young men dispersing. We quickly drove away, but with a feeling of unease. The next morning, as I walked the dog a few blocks from home in my nongated neighborhood, I was approached by two tactical police officers in fatigues. “What’s your dog’s name?” one of them asked in a friendly voice. “Do you walk him every day?” I shared the dog’s name but answered vaguely, feeling instinctively (though possibly irrationally) that I did not want to divulge information about my routine. A few hundred yards on, I passed another pair on patrol, this time a soldier and a police officer in complementary green-and-blue fatigues. As I walked away, I thought about Ortiz’s words: “If the El Mozote case is successfully brought to trial, it is a message to the next generation that we are healing,” she told me. “If not, we are sending the message that the military can do whatever it wants.” A crucial test of El Salvador’s democratic institutions, and of the state’s capacity and willingness to ensure that such atrocities are never repeated, the case has come to represent the struggle to hold the Salvadoran military accountable and to transform El Salvador’s culture of impunity. As the 39th anniversary of the massacre approaches, it remains to be seen whether it’ll succeed. Much is a stake: El Salvador is the second-leading country of nationality of those granted asylum in the United States (mass migration was sparked by the civil war, sending hundreds of thousands northward). Today, those seeking protection believe their government is unwilling or unable to protect them from violence. The Salvadoran military still faces accusations of human rights abuses in their fight against crime, while the criminal justice system is rife with impunity. Many once placed their hopes in Bukele to usher in a new era, but they are quickly becoming disillusioned. © 2020 The Slate Group LLC.

Early November, Kenyan lawyer Paul Gicheru surrendered himself to the International Criminal Court (ICC) at the Hague. At the start of the investigation, six suspects were accused by the ICC for involvement in Kenya's deadly elections in 2007. Where are they now? Major General Mohammed Hussein Ali, charges not confirmed. (AP Photo/Paul Vreeker, Pool) Uhuru Kenyatta, charges withdrawn (AP Photo/Alex Brandon) Kenya’s fourth president and the son of its first was elected to his first term with, and some argue because of, the ICC indictments. While the cases formed the most important political and diplomatic subjects of his first few years in office, he is now headed to the tail end of his last term in office with a different set of problems. At the start of 2020, the major issue on his agenda was a political and economic legacy, as well as navigating the succession question both for himself and others in the political class. COVID-19 threw a spanner in the works, but also created the kind of crisis that forces other social and political issues to the fore. William Ruto, mistrial (AP Photo/Richard Drew, File) In many ways, Kenya’s first deputy president is back where he was when the ICC indictments came calling a decade ago. His main rival is Raila Odinga, although the positions have turned. William Ruto is officially in government while Odinga is not, but Odinga and Kenyatta have been working on the referendum process without him. While Ruto’s recourse might be to oppose new constitutional changes like he did in 2010, the stakes are far higher now than they were then when he was a legislator and Cabinet Minister from Odinga’s faction of government. Joshua Sang, mistrial (AP Photo/Lex van Lieshout, Pool) The only journalist in the original case, Joshua Sang took a sabbatical from working in the media, ventured into agriculture, tried politics, and then returned to radio. In 2017, he ran for the ruling party ticket to govern one of Kenya’s 47 counties but lost in the primaries. Two years later, he was appointed the Head of Radio at Emoo Radio station, a vernacular broadcaster owned by a media house with ties to President Kenyatta’s family. Francis Muthaura, charges withdrawn (AP Photo/Sayyid Azim) Once one of the most powerful and visible power players in the government of Kenyatta’s predecessor, Ambassador Francis Muthaura resigned from his position as Head of Civil Service after the ICC confirmed charges against him in 2012. As chair of Kenya’s revenue authority since 2018, the 74-year-old former ambassador is now a boardroom player in Kenyatta’s administration working to increase revenue collection amidst a pandemic, that exacerbated social, economic, and debt crises. Henry Kosgey, charges not confirmed (AP Photo/Bas Czerwinski) One of the three Kenyans in the case that also included Deputy President William Ruto, the 72-year old politician is now a budding academic and theologian. He unsuccessfully ran for different positions in the last two elections, for Senator in 2013 and Governor of Nandi county in 2017. The last seven years marks the longest Kosgey has been without an elected position since 1979, but one of his sons is a serving legislator, while another lost in the 2017 elections. Major General Mohammed Hussein Ali, charges not confirmed (AP Photo/Paul Vreeker, Pool) By the time the former military commander was indicted at the ICC in 2010, he had been demoted from his position as Commissioner of Police (and retired from his military career) to the country’s Postmaster General. In 2015, there were reports that he had declined an appointment to the successor of his former position as the country’s head of police. Published by the Africa Report on November 26, 2020. Copyright © 2020 The Africa Report. All Rights Reserved.

“Myanmar has moral and legal responsibility to end Rohingya crisis” GENEVA (10 December 2020) - The failure to create conditions necessary for Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh to return home to Myanmar, after more than three years, has created an untenable situation for both the Rohingya and the government of Bangladesh, a UN human rights expert said today. The UN Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights in Myanmar, Tom Andrews, expressed concerns about reports that 1,642 Rohingya refugees have been relocated to Bhasan Char island without an independent assessment by the United Nations to verify that the island is suitable to safely host this vulnerable population. Andrews urged the government of Bangladesh to make refugee relocation contingent on the outcome of UN proposed assessments of Bhasan Char island and to an independent international verification process to confirm that those slated for relocation made their decision of their own free will and with complete and accurate information. “These verifications and assessments are in the best interest of all,” he said. “They will assure the government of Bangladesh of the suitability of Bhasan Char to host refugees or identify changes that might be necessary. It will also assure that the government’s policy of strict voluntary relocation to Bhasan Char is, indeed, being faithfully carried out.” Andrews said he was concerned about reports that some of the relocations were done involuntarily through either coercion or misinformation. He said it was reasonable for the Bangladesh government to seek to create options for the refugees who desire alternatives to the mega camps in Cox’s Bazar. “The Bangladesh government has been extraordinarily generous and compassionate in providing desperate people with a safe haven in their time of need,” he added. “Make no mistake: the Rohingya crisis emanated from Myanmar and can only be solved in Myanmar,” Andrews said. “The government of Myanmar has the moral and legal responsibility to end this crisis. After being forced to literally run for their lives over the border into Bangladesh, the Rohingya want and deserve, to return home. “It is reasonable, therefore, for the government of Bangladesh to seek what it correctly describes as the only durable solution to the crisis – the repatriation of the Rohingya to their home villages. The international community must support this effort and ensure that repatriation is done voluntarily, safely, and with dignity.” The UN expert said the international community must acknowledge, however, that after three years its policy with respect to the Rohingya refugees has failed. “It has failed because Myanmar remains unwilling to take meaningful steps to create conditions necessary for the safe, sustainable, and dignified return to the Rohingya’s place of origin in Rakhine State,” Andrews said. “And, it has failed by not sufficiently resourcing Bangladesh to carry out its humanitarian mission.” He said it was imperative for the international community to engage in a concerted effort to support Rohingya refugees and their fundamental right to return home. This could be done by: Providing greater financial support to Bangladesh to meet the tremendous burden of providing safe haven to the Rohingya; Demanding that the Myanmar government create the conditions necessary for the Rohingya to return and rebuild in their places of origin safely, voluntarily, and with dignity; Providing technical support to accomplish the safe, voluntary, and dignified repatriation; and Instituting clear, enforceable, time-bound benchmarks that the government of Myanmar must adhere to for the Rohingya’s repatriation. “We must no longer simply thank Bangladesh for its humanitarian assistance while providing lip service to the Rohingya’s right of return,” he said. “The international community must provide support, action, and accountability.” Published article by the UN Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights in Myanmar, Tom Andrews. Access the full article here. OHCHR © 2020