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Ed Garcia
International Alert, United Kingdom
It is a privilege to share this roundtable with distinguished colleagues who wield the pen to transform situations of violence into opportunities for building a justpeace. As a reflective practitioner who has worked in diverse regions of conflict, I would like to share my thoughts from the perspective of one who has witnessed the impact of violent conflict on the lives of vulnerable people -- underlining the potential of the spoken and written word in the prevention of more deaths and in protecting the vulnerable and the voiceless to construct a more durable peace. The Destructive Power of Ideologues of Intolerance I recall standing before the transitional national assembly of Rwanda as a facilitator of a workshop on the role of parliamentarians in peace-building. As I observed the faces of the participants I could not help but think of the many among them who had lost loved ones in what truly can be called one of the major human tragedies of recent times. I could not erase from my mind the memory of a visit the day before to a wooden chapel. From the outside, it looked nondescript but when one looked in there were hardly words to describe the sight: it was littered with bodies which had become remnants of the slaughter, silent witnesses to a genocide that in fact was foretold and could have been prevented � had the will existed to do so. Not far from that place was a field which had become a graveyard blooming with a thousand white crosses in memory of those who were killed without mercy from nine in the morning to three in the afternoon regularly and without let-up within the span of three months in the sad year of 1994. I met an elderly person, walking quietly, his voice muffling his anger: �It was systematic murder by radio. Ideologues of intolerance who propagated ideas inciting to fear and frenzy, who had written tracts promoting anxiety and insecurity had unleashed a human wave of hatred, letting the machetes do the rest.� The radio he referred to was the infamous Radio Television des Milles Collines in Kigali, Rwanda. What perhaps most of us did not know was that this was your equivalent of a local music station; not a serious political news and current affairs radio station but an upbeat station broadcasting banter and popular music that now had been influenced by the destructive power of the word. Given the polarized state of affairs, it had become hate-radio overnight with the capacity to incite people to kill. The power of the written word amplified through media is best captured in this example, forever etched in my memory. The Liberating Force of Undiminished Voices of Moral Courage But I remember another story, which took place in another time and place, which likewise begs to be told; a story which indeed proves that the pen � both the spoken and written word � is indeed a double-edged sword. In the mid-eighties in a country blessed not with a thousand but seven thousand eleven islands, the people�s laughter was stifled by martial rule, by a repressive dictatorship whose excesses were embodied in the assassination of a leader, the former Senator Benigno Aquino, once imprisoned, then exiled, and who had freely returned to his country one afternoon in September 1983, killed while in military custody. Though the official press was stifled, there was an irrepressible so-called alternative �mosquito press� � small but persistent, without much resources except the truth; without sponsors and advertisements except an extraordinary audience of people who refused to accept a lie. Together with Radio Veritas, a radio station run by churchpeople, and makeshift radio stations amplifying the message from the streets or the pulpits in the country�s churches people were galvanised, mobilised and emboldened to confront the guns and the tanks in the roads that traversed the military camps. It was a defining moment that has become known as the 1986 �people�s power experience.� Hope had overcome fear. Terror had lost its might. Inspired by a Vision to Build a Nation for Our Children People sacrificed, mobilised and took risks not because it was fashionable or convenient, but because they had been inspired by a vision, convinced by principles that had been articulated by human rights activists or peace advocates or written by champions of the human spirit. Few perhaps outside the Philippines have read the spirited words of the late Jose W. Diokno, a companion of Ninoy Aquino for nearly seven years in nearly total isolation behind bars, but -- together with other patriots -- from his pen and his life came the words that summoned the courage to strengthen a people�s resolve to resist. Allow me to share with you a few lines from one illustrious pen that envisioned a justpeace that touched people from all walks of life: �There is one dream that (we) all share: that our children may have a better life than we have had�one vision to make this country, our country, a nation for our children. A noble nation, where homage is paid not to who a man is or what he owns, but to what he is and what he does. A proud nation, where poverty chains no man to the plow, forces no woman to prostitute herself and condemns no child to scrounge among garbage. A free nation, where men and women and children from all regions and with all kinds of talents may find truth and play and sing and laugh and dance and love without fear. A just nation where whatever inequality exists is caused not by the way people act towards each other but by differences in natural talents; where poverty, ignorance, and hunger are attacked and every farmer has land that no one can grab from him; every breadwinner, a job that is satisfying and pays him enough to provide a decent standard of living; every family, a home from which it cannot be evicted; and everyone a steadily improving quality of life. An independent nation which rejects foreign dictation, depends on itself, thinks for itself, and decides for itself what the common good is, how it is to be attained, and how its costs and benefits are to be distributed. An honourable nation where public powers are used for the public good and not for private gain of some�where leaders speak not only well but truthfully and act honestly; a nation that is itself and seeks to live in peace and brotherhood with all other nations of the world.� (Jose W. Diokno, �A Nation for our Children,� 1985.) Drawing Lessons from the Ground With such inspired sentiments, it is no wonder that patriots like the late Ninoy Aquino could go willingly back to his country facing all risks and proclaiming that �the Filipino is worth dying for.� From experiences such as these from Africa and Asia, expressed in unmistakable ways, for time would only allow for just a couple of examples, one can draw a few lessons relevant to the task of building peace worthy of our children: 1. The power of the word � written or spoken � is immense. Words can be employed in a destructive way, by inciting to violence . They can also encourage non violent actions to construct a justpeace 2. The power of the people is decisive. History has shown the negative nature of ignorance and intolerance, driving people to the depths of desperation and delusion. However, people have the power to turn things around; they can be galvanised and mobilised by moral courage and the appeal to compelling values and principles. 3. The power of concerted action is crucial. What counts at the end of the day is the capacity to take collective action, able to overcome imagined fears and insecurities, unleashing what is best and noble in the human spirit. No Turning Back, Tackling the Current Imperatives Given the current situation of insecurity and violence in diverse parts of the world, it might be best to reflect on the impact of the written or spoken word in situations of armed conflict. As we confront an unconventional global war on terror where journalists report �live from the field� or are �imbedded� in the frontlines with combatants or where writers take their positions on different sides of the political divide, it might be worthwhile taking distance and reflecting beyond the drama of the bullets and the blood so as to be better able to focus on the critical issues � on what perhaps we can call the current imperatives. There can, in the first place, be no substitute for the truth. Among the first casualties of war are truth and impartiality. Consider a topical illustration: the current public hearings in the UK (the Hutton Inquiry on the death of the weapons expert, Dr. David Kelly) examining the events leading to the dissemination of the Iraq dossier on weapons of mass destruction which by all accounts provided a rationale for the nation going to war on Iraq. What the exercise so far attests to is that there truly are no shortcuts, no substitutes for reliable and verifiable information, for professional competence in the work of those engaged in producing the written or spoken word whatever side one may represent. There can be no other way but respect for the other. Experience has demonstrated time and again that respect, tolerance, even-handedness and fairness are required, even or perhaps especially for those who are demonised and labelled as �the enemy�. In other words, there are certain human values that can be preserved and nurtured even in times of war. This injunction it seems to me is particularly relevant in this day and age for those who wield the pen, or craft the magic of theatre, or sing the songs and transport us into another world of music. There is room for creativity. There is a time and place to unleash the creative spirit of people in building bridges; to break the barriers separating us from those ranged on opposite sides of the barricade. There can be measures which can be designed -- in creating exchange in non-adversarial settings, in breaking down stereo-types or prejudices, in providing safe spaces for an honest exchange of ideas, and for providing a voice for those who are vulnerable and without voice. There is need to unleash the transforming potential of the pen. This generation and its youth have gone through so much � expectations dashed by the realities of war and politics, the economy gone wrong and culture gone pop. We have produced a generation of cynics, of people at times unwilling to get involved, or take risks for fear of getting burnt. Thus, today one of the imperatives is to unleash the transforming power of the written and spoken world and point to possible futures different from the past. There is hope even in the midst of war, even in the midst of the horrors experienced by countless communities. Finally, there can be no surrender to the forces of despair. What the written word provides in the years of solitude, to paraphrase the Colombian writer Gabriel Garcia Marquez, is hope in a time of desolation. The human spirit cannot be imprisoned, or chained to the past. It is possible under apt conditions to create alternatives to violence, to build communities that are able to forge consensus, though they may differ at times; able to design non-violent alternatives and create better futures. For most people in Asia, Africa, Latin America, the Middle East, Eurasia and Europe, the last word has not been written. The good news is that there are brave souls courageously engaged in writing the story even without knowing its end.
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