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As I walked into the palatial splendor of the Grosvenor House hotel in London, I felt the strange mixture of hope and despair that accompanies any confrontation with inhumanity. I'd had the same conflicted feelings when I was in Bosnia in 1994, and when I was in Rwanda in 1998. And when I spent almost five years in The Hague helping to create an international criminal justice system, the International Criminal Court (ICC), I also constantly wrestled with the question of whether I was truly making a difference.
This time it was June 2007 and I was about to participate in a weeklong training session for Sudanese attorneys who were representing victims of the conflict in Darfur, Sudan's western province. I was one of a dozen U.S. lawyers hoping to be of help somehow. The program had been funded by the MacArthur Foundation and organized mostly through the efforts of Brad Brian, former chair of the American Bar Associa-tion's Section of Litigation, which sponsored the training. Our common goal was to assist the Sudanese attorneys in whatever way we could.
Our timing was serendipitous, as only a few months before, the ICC had issued arrest warrants for two high-ranking Sudanese men for their roles in war crimes in Darfur. It was only the ICC's second case and its first to assess personal, criminal responsibility for the horrific conditions in Darfur, where more than 200,000 people have died and 2.5 million have been forcibly displaced.
I steeled myself to join our first get-together, troubled by doubts that our efforts would be anything more than a self-assuaging balm. When I entered the hotel's wood-paneled salon, the Sudanese attorneys were on one side of the room, the ABA attorneys on the other. Smiles, uncertainty, and tentative ice-breaking behavior defined the moment. Neither group was certain that the week would amount to much. But we introduced ourselves and began in earnest.
The next day we immersed ourselves in the international law that governs war-crimes prosecutions and defines victims' reparation rights. I led a discussion about why the ICC prosecutors had not charged genocide in the Darfur prosecution?an emotional and complex set of issues ranging from moral imperatives to technical issues of proof and trial strategy. ICC experts made presentations de-scribing how the court operated and what options were available to the Sudanese attorneys. The ABA attorneys explained the common law adversarial process and helped the Sudanese develop advocacy skills and strategies for telling the victims' stories. The attorneys in the class even tried their hand at common law?style opening statements.
Throughout the extensive presentation, the Sudanese attorneys were thoroughly engaged. Every session was punctuated with numerous questions about the law and procedures, and with debates over effective strategies and overarching issues. Our time together was brief, but each day was intense.
By midweek there was a definite shift in the dynamics of the group, as the Sudanese attorneys began to trust us. The roles of teacher and student reversed as we learned how dangerous it was for them to represent the Darfur victims. We already knew about how authorities had seized and jailed one of the participants, Salih Osman, the leader of the Sudanese attorneys, for seven months without any charges. (The ABA had given him its International Human Rights Award in 2006.) One slender, soft-spoken attorney told of being kidnapped from his home by a group of men, jailed, and then beaten on the soles of his feet, simply for assisting victims. We sat in horror as we heard these stories, which were delivered in an almost matter-of-fact manner. And yet, in spite of the dangers they faced, these Sudanese men and women had come to learn strategies and continue their efforts.
We spent our last day together discussing plans for future collaboration and pledged to continue our friendships and commitment to the victims in Darfur. We had made genuine progress, but I wondered if our time together would be of any real consequence. Osman put the week in perspective, however, when he said, "We are no longer alone. You are with us now. And you are our friends." His statement was a benediction of sorts?an affirmation and a mandate to continue.
We lawyers cannot all be on the front line of fighting injustice, but we can be on the right side of these seemingly unceasing conflicts?and demonstrate our unwavering support for justice.
Terree Bowers is a partner in the Los Angeles office of Howrey.
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Megan Kinneyn
Daily Journal Staff Writer
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