Cinema and Justice

I left the cinema unsure what to think, even more unsure whether I had indeed left my seat. Perhaps it was 'good' to be numb, awed, and in a queer way inspired. Or perhaps feeling nothing and thinking nothing is exactly the effect it's supposed to have on people.

I attended the opening evening of the 3rd annual 'Cinema & Justice' festival offered by Filmhuis Den Haag, which is supposed to bring the many international tribunals and courts situated in the city closer to the public through a series of lectures, debates and movies. The programme is wide-ranging, from the former Yugoslavia to the Democratic Republic of Congo, from Sudan to Sierra Leone, conflict, human suffering and attempts to secure peace and justice are the common threads that tie these far away places together. And in a way, bring the public closer to the victims you would other wise read about or see in sensationalist reportings in the comforts of our own living rooms.

First, was the short documentary 'Children under Fire'. What it is not long in length it makes up in the personal tales of young children as they recount their experiences of the war in the former Yugoslavia to a child psychiatrist. By recounting their experiences, it is hoped that the children can deal with their fears and anxieties, and move on. Shocking are the vivid images that the children paint with their words and crayons of long-tongued monsters rising out of the earth swallowing people and houses whole, while birds flee into the sky and villages burn in the background... Even more shocking are the words of a seven year old boy who blurted out that 'they' will get what they did to 'us', that he will make the children and grandchildren suffer as he and his people have suffered at the hands of the enemy. It is a most disturbing example of how some children internalise the destruction and death and "worms coming out of mouths, ears and eyes" and process it into hatred and a desire for revenge. What will such children grow up into? What will these children mean in the future and for the prospects of peace after war?

But then there are children who write. Who write to try to come to terms with their fathers brutally taken away and killed in the woods nearby, who write to convince themselves that their loved ones are indeed gone, even some twelve years after the event. But of course war is not just one event, not just one trauma... it is a series and continuous breakdown of events that unfold, a repeated succession of traumas that, as one child put it feels like a movie played over and over again, continue to be ingrained on the minds and nightmares of innocent youths. As one girl read out her letters to her dead dad, her wavering voice and tears that splashed on the crumpled letter triggered my tears to fall, even though it was in another language I could not comprehend. But it just goes to show, human pain and suffering need not be spoken or read to be understood. It is a common trait of experiences and memories that make us so vulnerable and so very human, however much we try to deny or suppress them. It makes you wonder, how grown-up grown-ups really are to neglect the silent suffering and traumas of children in their rash and utterly useless whims of evil to seize arms to kill and mane? As the lyrics of a famous Dutch song goes, you can take the child out of the war, but can you take the war out of the child?

[...]

It is a mask I wear,

So solid and so safe

Like an armour and a sword;

For I am invincible,

I am fearless and I am brave.

But inside, somewhere

You know deep inside,

A face is clouding,

Howling, thundering, moaning,

A child is crying.

(A Dirge to Childhood)

Who in conflict has time to breathe or reflect? With no time to breathe "Rape: A War Crime in Bosnia" rolled onto the screen. A powerful and provocative documentary, which began with a former soldier telling how he together with four others raped time and again a twenty-year old, while others just stood by and watched. Was there remorse in his eyes? Was he apologetic? No matter, because the echoing effects of rape are felt mainly by the victim. It was only in recently that rape has been classified as a war crime by the international criminal tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, even though it is an instrument of war that has been used since time immemorial. It is a power weapon used to induce fear and terrorism into the local population, and, as in the case of the former Yugoslavia, systematically perpetrated to 'cleanse' and 'purify' populations of unwanted ethnic groups.

Rape is not just sex. Sex is but a minor, but by no means insignificant, part of rape. No one could possibly begin to imagine the physical and emotional scars that are left behind... the feeling of powerlessness, of forcedly denied your freedom and will, and forced put in a position of humiliation and act of the utmost degree of privacy ruins a person and denies his/her innate humanity. The pain lingers, accentuated moments, months and even years after the event(s) by the subtle but nagging feelings of (contradictorily) guilt, shame, distrust, even in some cases social ostracisation, and is felt in every aspect of daily life that leaves the victim paralysed and numb, robbed of innocence, and denied the very foundation of human dignity. It is trauma pur, followed by haunting nightmares, relived memories that surface sometimes at the slightest touch or sound resembling the experience. Even if you come to overcome the trauma, to find a way to open up and confront the fears and anxieties, it will still be a dark shadow that hangs over your head, body and mind. Perhaps only death will rid the victim of this invisible yet invincible ghost of the past. Believe me, I know.

And the documentary showed that well. Courageous women faced the cameras, some for the first time, to talk about their experience(s), shuddering and tearing as the words poured out of their mouths. One told of her struggle to raise a child born out of rape... of her deep love for her daughter, but at times the simple disgust she feels just by touching her own daughter. How will the child react when she learns the origins of her conception? How does family and the community react to learn of this? And this is but one story of tens of thousands of women in the former Yugoslavia, and of many, many more women who suffered, and some continue to suffer the effects of the forced robbery of their souls and bodies.

Some women have found the strengths not only to 'come out' of their hiding and shame, but also to form support groups to help others, Croats, Serbs, Bosnians alike, help themselves. It is not easy, especially in communities where such topics are taboo. Some of the husbands and children do not even know (or perhaps do not even want to know...?) what their women, daughters, sisters underwent in horrible make-shift bordellos. And what if it happens in your own home, in the village where you grew up and have lived all your life? Yesterday's neighbours, colleagues, teachers are today's monsters you dare not look into the eyes of. Your homes becomes painful to bear, even more so when you know that the perpetrator(s) are walking around freely, or have even been ushered into positions of authority in hasty efforts by the (so-called) 'international community' to reconcile populations. International forces may be there to keep the peace, to reconstruct and rebuild communities... but are failing in attending to the personal wellbeings of so many millions affected by the very wars which may very well have been prevented in the first place. Wars of death, destruction, suffering, and so many years and victims left behind in the madness of trying to attain territory, to aggrandise nationality, to pursue personal wealth and interests. Is it worth it, if anything at all?

In a setting of lush green mountains, winding picturesque creeks, where today many are still trying to rebuild their homes, many more are trying to rebuild their hearts.