Human rights is my first true love. Long before I knew the term "human rights" - and definitely long before I realized I thought boys were cute rather than cootie-filled - I understood the concept. When I was about six, I gathered a few friends up to go collect money for poor children. I had seen a particularly sad story on the news – well, particularly sad to my six-year-old brain – about poor children. I don’t know if it was that they wouldn’t have food or they wouldn’t have toys for Christmas, or that they had lost their home in a fire, but it was the kind of story that my thirty-something brain is now used to seeing a couple of times a year on the local news. At six, my parents had already drilled into my head that I could do anything I wanted, and I wanted to help. So, we got a tin can and went around the neighborhood asking people to donate. Of course, I didn’t realize that I was living in a poor area of our city so a significant number of people who said they couldn't donate really meant it, some chuckling at us as they closed the door, likely thinking, "They don't realize they're poor! Silly kids." Then, there was a woman who told us we couldn’t collect money like this, that we needed to hand out receipts and have a register of all donors. That is true, by the way, but I was six so she could’ve just given me fifty cents and allowed me to learn about the intricacies of charitable donations and finance when I was seven or eight.
But, a few people were highly encouraging. They told us how wonderful we were for being such giving and caring children. I don’t remember how much we ended up collecting that day – probably just a few dollars, but my dad took it to some organization to ensure it got to the poor people I had seen on TV. I felt good about what we had done; I felt good about the kind of a person I had become (yes, at six I had “become” all that I needed to in my mind - I mean, I needed to get taller and learn to put on makeup at some point, but intellectually, I was obviously super smart and all I needed to become).
By eight years old, I had decided I wanted to be President of the United States so I could end poverty and ensure peace throughout the world. It is a self-indulgent and idealistic dream, but it was an appropriate idealism and self-indulgence because, well, I was eight years old. And fair enough, my idealism and self-indulgence lasted until my twenties when I realized that world peace is a lot harder than Miss America contestants make it out to be and that human rights isn't about me. Until that point, though, I really thought that I could be the one to change the world. I would bring about lasting changes in Rwanda. I would get the former Yugoslavia to love each other again. I would shape little hearts and minds, build schools, feed the world’s poor, etc. I. I. I. Because I could change the world and only I cared enough to do it well and do it right.
At some point in my twenties, I realized that I was actually unlikely to accomplish much of anything close to my goals. I could accomplish something only by pairing up with other people who were intelligent, thoughtful, knowledgeable, creative, and dedicated. (This was not, by the way, a realization made from a point of humility or out of self-doubt. As I told an ex-boyfriend more recently than I should be willing to admit to, I really do consider myself to be kind of f-ing brilliant. Not on everything - I increasingly need a calculator for simple mathematics, but on the whole.) More importantly, any contribution I make is only relevant to the extent that it is the contribution desired by those who need my great solution.
If I decided I was going to feed the entire Middle East by developing pork farms, I would be useless. My great plan to eradicate poverty in the Middle East would be a waste. Similarly, starting a beef emporium in India would be a laughable solution to hunger there. These “solutions” are an obvious mistake to anyone who knows even the smallest bit about Islam, Judaism, or Hinduism. But, the principles at the heart of this lesson are lost when we get to more complex problems in human rights, international assistance and development. We lose our recipient-focus and it suddenly becomes all about the donors: it is the donors who determine the projects; it is the donors whose interests need to be met; it is the donors who dictate what should be done and who should be targeted and how they will rebuild a country, start building a country, or provide security and human rights to a state or community or group in need. Sure, they all “involve” and “engage” the “local community” in decisions, but the longer you work in human rights, the more you realize that so often that that “involvement” and “engagement” is not widespread, it’s not democratic, it’s not representative, and often it's not honest. It’s a manipulation of the local population to get them to agree that what you are saying you are going to do is what they actually need. Even if they've already had someone do exactly that same thing last month or two years ago. As David Damberger, founder of Engineers Without Borders Calgary, pointed out in a Tedx Talk, this leads to the rebuilding of wells in cities that had a well built there five years ago but because no one trained the local population how to maintain the well, it no longer works.
In the last month, I’ve felt a little pelted with the egocentric nature of some in the field of human rights, development, and international aid. One only needs to spend a little time on Stuff Expat Aid Workers Like to get a sense of the me-ness of the field, but I love SEAWL for its self-critical snarkiness, so it never sends me on the downward spiral of questioning the professionalism of human rights or railing against the current status quo of our field. Instead, it started when I read a fantastic report from the International Legal Assistance Consortium about their Assessment Mission to South Sudan. In what at times is a quite scathing report, ILAC notes that most of the projects undertaken on rule of law in South Sudan are done so for the benefit and goals of the donor, not necessarily in view of the needs and desires of the indigenous population.
Then, I read this Q&A with Jason Russell, one of the founders of Invisible Children who narrates the viral Kony 2012 video. Russell and Invisible Children have been pilloried in the media and by human rights and humanitarian activists for the video. A collection of criticisms can be found here and here, and in a brilliant video by Ugandan Rosebell Kagumire that can be seen here. In this brief intro into Russell’s mind, we find two answers, which I think say more about him and Invisible Children than anything we’ve read in the media or on their website:
3: Where are you from and where are you going?
I am from San Diego California with an upbringing in musical theater. I am going to help end the longest running war in Africa, get Joseph Kony arrested & redefine international justice. Then I am going to direct a Hollywood musical. Then I am going to study theology & literature in Oxford, England, and then move to New York to start “The Academy” – which will be a school where the best creative young minds in the world attend.
4: Who is your biggest hero?
If Oprah, Steven Spielberg and Bono had a baby, I would be that baby.
Now, in fairness to Russell, I want to point out that this was released a year ago, well before Kony 2012, and perhaps he would change some of his answers. I’m not sure how old Russell is – I can’t find it anywhere in media reports or on Wikipedia, and so I’m done attempting, even though if I put my lawyerly sleuthing hat on I’m sure I could find it out eventually – but he was an undergraduate student in 2003 when he and his two mates went to make a video about Darfur and discovered that the LRA existed and had been abducting child soldiers for their campaign in Uganda. Jason, Laren Poole and Bobby Bailey decided they were going to free all the child soldiers in Uganda and they were going to do this by raising awareness of the situation in the US. Based on the time they were there in relation to my own life, I'm guessing they're about 30 years old and were 21 or 22 when they started this ride.
Unfortunately for them, Joseph Kony left Uganda three years after they decided they would track him down in Uganda, arrest him, and free the entire country. But why let a little fact spoil a good story and an ever gooder goal (yes, that gooder was intention)? So, the Kony 2012 film focuses pretty much on Uganda, leaving the impression that Kony is still a massive threat (he’s not), still operating in Uganda (he’s not), and that the only way we will save Uganda – or in Russell’s words “end the longest running war in Africa, get Joseph Kony arrested & redefine international justice” - is if Americans and other westerners buy a $30 kit so they can wear a bracelet and plaster Kony’s picture around… Cleveland? Washington DC? Colchester, England? All of the above, I guess. (It isn't.) Uganda? They don't really need posters of Kony, so … no need to be sending money there, I guess.
Now, it would be easy for me to just pick on Russell. After all, he compared himself to the hypothetical offspring of Oprah, Bono, and Steven Spielberg. And he declared he would help end the war in Africa and redefine international justice. I'm not sure how he thinks international justice works, but if he wanted to redefine it by ensuring a war criminal is arrested, he really needed to be involved sometime prior to 1994, or at least in the early years of the ICTY and ICTR. By now, arresting a war criminal doesn’t redefine international justice, unless that war criminal is Omar al Bashir and you’re getting to arrest the first sitting head of state for trial before the ICC. But, whatevs. Details, details.
The point is that Russell’s answers are all about what he is going to accomplish. Not partnerships, not service, but, rather, Russell is going to singularly (or in connection with the others at IC, I guess) end a war and redefine justice. Now, here’s the thing: unless you’re actually Ugandan, you’re probably not going to end a war in Uganda. You might be particularly important to process if you’re of the stature of Kofi Annan and are asked to mediate the negotiations. But, the heads of NGOs – particularly those involved in denouncing one side as war criminals – don’t get to mediate peace negotiations. That’s left for diplomats, because, well, they’re diplomatic and are less likely to make arrests and prosecutions a requirement of the peace process.
I was supposed to be in Uganda a few months ago to help in a training program on the oil industry. Because of funding cuts, I didn’t get to go, but I did help prepare the training program and advised on embedding human rights into two draft Petroleum bills. I also learned a lot about Uganda and what Ugandans are concerned with. Not as much as I would like, but I got a good sense of it because even though others had to find out exactly what the Ugandans wanted through extensive discussion with Ugandans, I wouldn’t have been able to do my job without some insight (and extensive meetings). Joseph Kony isn’t on the list.* Not really, anyhow – he might be there, but he’s pretty far down, as evidenced by the “growing outrage” in Uganda over the film. Because he doesn’t pose a threat anymore.
*I do realize that he is probably on the list for some people in Uganda, and this is not intended to be a statement on behalf of all Ugandans. I am not Ugandan, so it would be unwise of me to speak on behalf of them - they're able to speak for themselves - but that's the general, situational assessment I've made. And it seems to be backed up, at least from some news reports.
Is Kony a bad guy? Yes. Is he a war criminal? Probably (but I do believe in the presumption of innocence until conviction). Does that mean that Ugandans would be better off if he were arrested and brought to justice? Maybe in the justice-as-deterrence sense, but not in the immediate needs-oriented sense. Yet, Russell is resolute, rebuffing criticism and telling NBC’s Today show that “[w]e can all agree we can stop him this year. … We’re not going to wait.” So what’s keeping Russell’s commitment to arresting Kony alive? My guess – with particular insight from that interview? Russell’s needs. Not Uganda’s, but Russell’s.
I wish the problem was limited to Russell, and then I could just join in the fun with those making snarky comments about the white guy from southern California with a saviour complex who is, probably unwittingly, a great patsy for the military industrial complex in the US. Instead, the ILAC report on South Sudan indicates that there are a lot of Russells out there in the international aid and humanitarian business. Here are a few highlights from the report:
To address the lack of judicial manpower, the Chief Justice has proposed hiring an additional 100 judges. Given the lack of lawyers in the country, it is unclear where qualified personnel can be found to fill these positions without decimating other institutions. UNDPKO apparently has funding to hire more than 40 new judges and prosecutors, including a majority of non-South Sudanese. … However, under the current restrictions on the UNDPKO program, these professionals will have limited functionality, and it is unclear if they will provide any significant assistance to the beleaguered judiciary.” (pg. 12)
So, UNDPKO has the funding to provide individuals who will ultimately provide no real relief to the South Sudanese judiciary?
“First, a tremendous number of international organizations, NGOs and contractors ostensibly have worked on constitutional and rule of law issues in South Sudan before and after independence. If their reports and websites are to be believed, each has accomplished remarkable feats, made all the more remarkable by the fact that many seem to have accomplished the same feat.” (pg. 20)
“Why has this occurred? Based on our observations, three reasons emerge:
Some projects are driven more by the donor/implementer’s needs than the recipient’s needs. In this era of matrices, management theories, and deliverables, donors insist on tangible results for a project. Goals must be set and met, regardless of the situation on the ground. Accordingly, international consultants “assist” their indigenous counterparts … Boxes get checked for goals and milestones – set by donors – that are met.” (p.20)
In South Sudan, the bureaucratization of the technical assistance effort, coupled with the scarcity of committed indigenous partners, often has meant that projects proceed primarily to meet the bureaucratic goals of the donor/implementer, with little meaningful long-term impact on the South Sudanese system. (p.21)
I eliminated some of the other quotes that targeted specific organizations (in part, admittedly, because I may need to interview / work with them for my PhD research), but I found the entire tone of the report quite telling. There doesn’t appear to be that much difference between Russell’s treatment of Kony and that of some in the IGO and NGO community toward the rule of law in South Sudan. It’s not about servicing the client – unless you really believe the “client” in South Sudan is the UK, US, or Norwegian governments, or a mega grant writing organization. It’s about meeting the “me” needs of the donors. What do I want to see? What do I think would be important? What do I believe South Sudanese would benefit from? And what will prove that I am the one “saving” South Sudan?
Coming from a law background, I can’t help but believe that these attitudes harm not just the individual missions they are supposedly designed for, but also the perception of the benefit, reality and professionalism of what we do in the fields of human rights, international assistance and development. We are supposed to be field orientated around a professional service. In other professional service-oriented fields, though, the needs of the client are sacrosanct, not the needs of the service provider. As a lawyer, I can give advice based on what my clients want and need, but I can’t tell my client I’m going to franchise his business because I think franchising is important, or it's what I've been working on for another client, or because if he just trusted me a little bit, he would see it's real benefit and potential. The client gets to dictate what she needs and my job is to answer that with a quality product that provides her with protection and both short- and long-term benefits. Similarly, when you go into the ER (or A&E to my British friends) for a broken leg, the doctors don’t get to take out your appendix because they really want to bank more surgery hours. If I tell a doctor I've broken my legs, he'll give me the best treatment for my broken leg, not for some condition I haven't mentioned because I don't have it and am not exhibiting any symptoms.
Professionalism demands a set of ethics that puts the client at the heart of the work. You might have great ideas and grand plans for what you as an individual or you as an organization can accomplish in a community. Unless you know that your grand plan is meeting the needs and desires of your client, though, your greatness is useless. It is filling up a me-me-me need that you have, but it’s not addressing the client and therefore it’s not actual service.
My six- and eight- and eighteen- year-old selves were all about me. My feelings, my goals, my need to change the world. At some point in my twenties, though, I realized that human rights isn’t about the good internal feeling you get when you hand someone a bowl of food at the soup kitchen. It’s about serving the people not because it feels good, and not because at the end of the day I get some great pictures and some weak praise, but because it is what elevates their human dignity. It’s about figuring out how to get the guy in the soup kitchen that bowl of soup (or something more fulfilling and healthier) in a way that is more regular, more sustainable, and more addressed to their needs and their human dignity than the daily trip through a soup kitchen.
The great Woody Hayes (Go Bucks!) once said, “Any time you give a man something he doesn't earn, you cheapen him. Our kids earn what they get, and that includes respect.” I don’t actually agree with that statement because human dignity demands that we sometimes ensure people have basic necessities so they have the opportunity to find their inner strength, but I do think that we can alter the quote a bit and provide at least one guiding principle for human rights ethics and professionalism:
“Any time you give a man, woman, or community something they don’t need and desire, you cheapen them.”
If we put that at the heart of our work, perhaps we'll stop thinking about our own needs and desires - to ensure the rule or law or to transform international justice - and start focusing on the needs of those we profess to serve.
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