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This chapter considers the role of ‘memory politics’ – understood as the combination of official and unofficial attempts to deal with the legacy of past violations – in the struggle for democratization in Central America: official initiatives can include truth commissions, amnesty dispensations, criminal investigations and prosecutions, and a range of institutional reforms aimed at redressing the previous failure of the state to guarantee human rights; unofficial initiatives developed by civil society actors to confront the past can include investigations of violations, legal actions, and different kinds of commemorative acts and exercises in collective memory. Memory politics operates at multiple levels and involves a diversity of agents, including local communities, national and international non-governmental human rights organizations (HROs), governments, the media, and, in the case of Central America, the UN; however, it is suggested here that its long-term effects in any national context depend on the interaction between official and unofficial efforts to address the legacies of the past. The experiences of memory politics analysed in this chapter are those of El Salvador, Honduras and Guatemala, the three Central American countries that during the 1990s undertook official processes of investigating past violations of human rights. The precise nature of memory politics and the impact it has had varied considerably in these three countries, and it is suggested that four interrelated factors are central to explaining differences between the respective national experiences: the first is the specific political and social legacies of human rights abuse in each country; the second concerns the circumstances of the transition from war to peace, specifically the prevailing balance of forces and the trade-off between truth and justice that this engendered in each case; the third is the role of local HROs and civil society in general in the politics of memory; and the fourth is the role of international governmental and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) in efforts to uncover the truth about the past and to address the consequences of violations. The first three sections of the chapter compare the legacies of human rights abuses, the transitional trade-offs between truth and justice, and the role of civil society organizations and international actors in the memory politics of El Salvador, Honduras and Guatemala; the final section considers the impact of memory politics on the prospects for democracy in these countries.

The general aim of this book is to shed light on how countries deal with legacies of repression during a transition from authoritarian or totalitarian rule to democratic rule. Two broad kinds of transition are covered: those that occur as a result of the collapse of the old regimes or regime forces, as in Portugal, Argentina, Central and Eastern Europe, Russia and Germany after reunification, where collapse was followed by absorption into another state; and those that are negotiated between an incoming democratic elite and an old regime, as in Spain, the southern cone of Latin America, Central America and South Africa. Because of this range of transitional situations, it is possible to see how varying degrees of political, social and institutional constraints affect the solutions adopted or limit opportunities to deal with the past, and to permit a comparative analysis of the variety of policies adopted, establishing links between one and the other. The book concentrates on the presence (or absence) of three kinds of official or government-sponsored efforts to come to terms with the past: truth commissions, trials and amnesties, and purges; to a lesser extent, it also looks at policies of compensation, restitution or reparation. At the same time, it focuses on unofficial and private initiatives emerging from within society to deal with the past – usually promoted by human rights organizations (HROs), churches, political parties and other civil society organizations; in doing this, the book examines a ‘politics of memory’ whereby societies rework the past in a wider cultural arena, both during the transitions and after official transitional policies have been implemented and even forgotten. The different sections of the Introduction are: Truth and Justice in Periods of Political Change: An Overview; What Can be Done about an Authoritarian Past? Limits and Possibilities of Transition Types and Other Variables; Beyond the Transitional Period: Authoritarian and Long-Term Historical Legacies; Truth, Justice and Democracy; and Memory Making and Democratization.

This chapter looks at the first major human rights organization and campaign, and uses the history of the antislavery movement to chart the evolution of the organization and the influence of nonstate actors. It argues that bureaucratization has been a key stage in the acquisition of influence, and, further, that the effort to redefine slavery—from an economic issue to a moral one—created an ideological basis which transcended national boundaries.

Human security comprises the basic welfare, human rights, social desires, and subjective interests of a given population. In the past, a focus on national security has led to the oversight of vast populations on the ground. The situation in Angola is a classic example of this gap between national and human security, and as a result, churches and other welfare groups have come to the aid of Angolans ignored by their national regime. These groups, mainly led by Christian churches, work to improve basic human welfare by responding to the need for hope and the desire of neglected or abused populations to attain a voice in their future. This chapter argues that the next step for religiously affiliated, human rights organizations in Angola is direct involvement in politics. More specifically, they should act as a catalyst to accelerate long overdue democratic reforms.

This chapter surveys global South publics’ definitions of “human rights” and perceptions of local human rights organizations. Many human rights practitioners fear negative public opinions about human rights ideas and organizations, such as seeing them as protecting criminals or terrorists, imposing foreign ideas, or offering a rhetorical “cover” for offenses of governments. Data show, however, that people generally regard “human rights” very positively and have high levels of trust in local human rights organizations. Another key finding is that pro-human rights constituents generally have anti-power worldviews, including mistrust in their national governments, the US government, and multinational corporations. Findings do not show evidence of a strong middle class human rights constituency, as some have argued, but instead suggest a constituency based more in worldview or ideology than materialist explanations.

This chapter centers on Amnesty International, the best-known and largest human rights organization in the world that was established in London in 1961. It highlights how the creation of Amnesty was a major milestone in the emergence of an enduring human rights movement. It also discusses the Cold War context that played a crucial role in shaping Amnesty. The chapter explores the intention of Amnesty to operate worldwide and address the abuses of rights committed by those on all sides of the global struggle. It also talks about the principal founder of Amnesty, Peter Benenson, who was active in the efforts to promote civil liberties several years prior to taking the lead in the formation of Amnesty.

This chapter analyzes the diffusion of human rights consciousness among global South publics. Survey data reveal broad diffusion of human rights discourse, as respondents report hearing “human rights” regularly in their lives. Actual engagement with organized human rights activities is much lower, however, as knowledge about, contact with, and participation in human rights organizations is relatively rare. Concerning to those who hope the human rights sector is reaching and engaging those most likely in need of human rights protections, statistical analysis shows those with lower socioeconomic statuses are less likely to engage with human rights organizations or activities. This chapter discusses implications for social movement mobilization, including potential strategies for increasing participation in local human rights activities among diverse publics.

This chapter examines the persistence of the top-down foreign funding resource pattern for local human rights organizations (LHROs) in the global South. Local publics have generally high levels of support for human rights ideas and organizations, and they do make donations to other causes. Despite this high potential for local donations, almost all LHRO funding flows from northern institutions. Part of the explanation lies in socially constructed philanthropic routines: individuals prioritize donations to “tangible” charities rather to organizations that support policy, advocacy, and legal work, and LHROs pursue international resources, rather than engage in costly domestic fundraising efforts. The chapter argues that local rights groups face an uncertain future if they do not begin to capitalize on public support. It further suggests that LHROs should—and can—develop a more diverse domestic resource base.

This chapter details how widespread repression in Tunisia decreased polarization within the opposition between 1987 and 2010. It demonstrates the effects of widespread repression on Tunisian opposition groups through psychological, social, and organizational mechanisms. Psychologically, a widespread repressive environment made Tunisian opposition members aware that they were not the only targets of harsh state repression. It also altered socialization patterns among opposition groups by imprisoning Islamist and secular opposition members together, and by exiling members of these same groups together abroad, where they exchanged ideas about how to best combat the regime. Finally, widespread repression altered the organizational structures of individual opposition groups by creating cross-group human rights organizations that advocated the freedoms of political prisoners of different ideological persuasions. As experiences of repression became increasingly ubiquitous among the Tunisian opposition over time, members of individual parties more strongly identified with a collective opposition identity and demonstrated more positive feelings towards members of other opposition groups. In addition, two major collaborative initiatives in the early 2000s solidified an agreement among opposition leaders about how religion and politics would be dealt with should authoritarianism end.

This chapter discusses key findings of the preceding chapters and presents some directions for future research. While public opinion in the global South is far from monolithic, this research found relative favor for human rights ideas and organizations, suggesting deeper grassroots support than many critics allege or practitioners fear. However, the preceding chapters also argued that this general public good will has not been fully harnessed or transformed into action. This chapter suggests that human rights researchers should spend more time investigating the public experiences with and opinions about human rights. Scholars have devoted enormous attention to the construction, diffusion, and reception of human rights norms, but have largely focused on states, legal systems, organizations, and other institutions. Few have explored public attitudes toward international human rights norms and organizations; additional research is needed on the depth, limits, variability, and potential of public support for human rights.

This chapter explores how visual documentation of civil crises in the Global South reinscribe a digital colonialism, focusing on the representations of gender and sexuality in videos about the Oaxaca teachers' strike of 2006 and the Myanmar protests of 2007. In the first decade of the twenty-first century, the Internet has become the preeminent medium from which international human rights campaigns have been publicized. Indeed, many human rights organizations now consider the Internet as the primary venue for exposing human rights abuses and mobilizing public opinion against them. Digital media generate among viewers the capacity for flexible attachments to more than one community. They facilitate a cosmopolitanism that asserts and abstracts “universalism” and a form of activism, which corresponds with key principles of neoliberal capitalism.

Based on ninety-nine interviews carried out with health professionals, this chapter briefly describes how the Syrian government transformed medical units into strategic targets. It then turns to discuss the legal advocacy strategy used by human rights and humanitarian organizations, claiming that while the law provides medical units with a series of protections, it also introduces crucial exceptions, setting out conditions under which warring parties can legally unleash violence against health facilities and staff. Even as accountability for the violation of international humanitarian law has been the primary rallying cry for NGOs seeking justice in Syria, the chapter argues that invoking the law to seek relief from violence is not necessarily the best strategy since the law itself sows doubt on the validity and solidity of the moral injunction to protect medical units.

An intense debate was sparked in the late 1990s: should the EU become a ‘Human Rights Organization’? Twenty years later, in the midst of a migration, security, and economic crisis, the relevance of the debate has been anything but tempered. Despite the clear rejection of a general mandate for the EU in this field, over the past two decades competences have emerged to give shape to a given fundamental right. EU equality law provides a particularly useful example of such a policy. The principle of equal treatment has gained a particularly clear and forceful human rights connotation. It has also been encapsulated in a remarkably ambitious as well as homogeneous set of legislative instruments. As such specific fundamental rights competences and relevant areas of law have emerged despite the reluctance of the Member States to grant the EU a core human rights policy, the constitutional setting in which they are embedded today warrants investigation. What characterizes equality law today, as our key example, is twofold. First, the narrative on equality law is very often couched in constitutional terms. Second, the equality law directives adopted from the year 2000 onwards have brought in a diverse set of rules intended to support a change in mentality from within domestic legal and policy arenas. The EU, in developing legislation that shapes the content of a right deemed to be fundamental and that diversifies the governance tools for anchoring that right in our societies, has unique strengths as well as weaknesses.

The Israeli Supreme Court conducts a dialogue via its judgments on national securityas well with petitioners and the human rights organizations (NGOs) representing them. This chapter is dedicated to this dialogue. It describes specific techniques used by the Court such as “invitations to override,” as well as the way the Court sets aside specific parts of its judgment to address these organizations, and provides examples of judgments in particular cases. It also shows how the Court encourages petitioners during military campaigns to bring the matter again when it feels that due to the intensity of the security situation, the time is not ripe for intervention.

The chapter narrates the involvement of the archbishop’s office and the mixed opinions about the Catholic bishops’ position in the case. It places the bishops’ behavior in the context of the Argentinean Church. While the antisecular Catholics openly supported the military (as the military vicariate), most of the institutional Catholics (including Vatican ambassador in Argentina) did not. However, nor did they consider the situation to represent religious persecution. This is a completely different take on the situation than the one that Catholic human rights organizations developed in the United States. That is explained in part because of their position in the social conflict and in part because neither the institutional nor the antisecular Catholics considered the victims “true Catholics.”

This chapter highlights acts of anti-integrationist violence in Los Angeles to explain the roles of geography and neighborhood dominance in the construction of localized racial hierarchies. These violent acts involve crimes committed by Latinos against African Americans in Los Angeles. “Latinos,” and nothing more specific, is how the perpetrators are described in court cases, human rights organizations' materials, and press accounts. This is slightly problematic because the term “Latino” is a catchall phrase that encompasses people of Cuban, Puerto Rican, Dominican, Mexican, and South and Central American descent. This generic lumping under the term “Latino” of individuals from different countries with different national histories does not do justice to the complex relationship that Latinos from different regions have with African Americans.

This chapter discusses the geopolitical and temporal context of the Hissène Habré trial. The trial, held in Dakar in 2016, and concluding with a sentence of imprisonment for life for ‘crimes against humanity, war crimes, and crimes of torture’ for the ex-dictator, was a historic one on many levels. It set important precedents in the struggle against impunity in Africa and testifies to the slow construction of a system of global justice. It also gives a foretaste of even greater challenges that criminal justice in Africa must meet. The chapter then demonstrates that the Chadian ex-dictator's trial was only held thanks to a singular conjunction of judicial and political factors. More precisely, the case against Habré was solid, but the creation of the Extraordinary African Chambers (EAC) was, essentially, the product of a power struggle created and won by Habré's victims and international human rights organizations. This, in and of itself, questions the respective places of law and politics in the processes of transitional justice.

This chapter focuses on the varying interpretations of the “violent” behaviors of detainees in the Guantánamo Bay detention facility. Such behaviors include suicide attempts, self-smearing with feces, and hunger strikes. Government officials regarded these acts as conducts of “fanatical madmen,” whereas human rights organizations construe these as evidence of “psychological deterioration.” Symptom interpretations also vary according to prison setting, with segregation units and prison cells leading to more personality disorder diagnoses as compared to office visits. Meanwhile, attorneys worry that officials view detainee actions as “disciplinary problems” rather than as signs of mental illness, thereby limiting access to treatment.

This chapter highlights acts of anti-integrationist violence in Los Angeles to explain the roles of geography and neighborhood dominance in the construction of localized racial hierarchies. These violent acts involve crimes committed by Latinos against African Americans in Los Angeles. “Latinos,” and nothing more specific, is how the perpetrators are described in court cases, human rights organizations' materials, and press accounts. This is slightly problematic because the term “Latino” is a catchall phrase that encompasses people of Cuban, Puerto Rican, Dominican, Mexican, and South and Central American descent. This generic lumping under the term “Latino” of individuals from different countries with different national histories does not do justice to the complex relationship that Latinos from different regions have with African Americans.