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Thomas Merton once said, “Peace demands the most heroic labor and the most difficult sacrifice. It demands greater heroism than war.”

Many countries which have survived civil wars might relate to Merton’s quote. The battles, death, and destruction are terrible, and yet picking up the pieces after the fighting is done can be a similarly overwhelming challenge.

One of the unanswered questions during these internal conflicts is what to do about those who have fled or been exiled to foreign countries and settled there, also known as diasporas. These communities play different roles in their countries of origin: they might enhance economic growth, support resistance efforts, or try to resolve conflicts. When conflict ends and it is time to pursue transitional justice, it is difficult to determine what role these diasporas should play in those processes, and what rights and responsibilities they have in their home country.

This is the focus of Professor Ashwini Vasanthakumar’s Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (SSHRC) funded project, “Transitional Justice as Transnational Justice: partnering with diasporas to secure justice from afar.” 

“Through this project, I will look at what rights and responsibilities exiles have to the country they have left behind, as well as the responsibilities of their host country in facilitating justice for these individuals,” she says. “Transitional justice is challenging because it looks at how we right wrongs, rebuild society, and foster trust – it is both forward and backward looking.”

This is a tricky topic because oftentimes the exile community functions as an official opposition to the government back home. For instance, Chilean exiles in the 1970s sustained solidarity movements opposing the Pinochet regime. Others, like Iran’s Ayatollah Khamenei, were able to exploit their presence outside of the country to build support and claim power. These dynamics can create an adversarial and fraught relationship upon which to try and build lasting peace.

In her research, Vasanthakumar is focusing on the Sri Lankan Tamil diaspora in Toronto, Canada. The Sri Lankan civil war, which ended in 2009, was Asia’s longest running civil war and it created a large Tamil diaspora. She first became interested in the war through work she completed in her undergraduate degree and fieldwork with Tamil communities. “The Sri Lankan civil war illustrates a lot of the complexities in these cases, and this is what makes it interesting to study; it is also an ongoing situation, so there is greater scope for research to inform policy or public debates.”

Some general principles that Vasanthakumar seeks to confirm through her research is whether, for instance, there are general expectations that exile communities should have in these situations. Do they have a right to be “heard” by the government, should they have a say in how justice is administered following civil wars, and does the Canadian government has a role in facilitating this on behalf of exile communities it hosts? “Suppose the conclusion is that diasporas have rights to be involved in transitional justice,” she says. “The Canadian government has international obligations to promote peace abroad – could this be a way to fulfill those obligations?”

To inform her theory, Vasanthakumar will be conducting qualitative research among members of the Tamil diaspora in Toronto. Along for the trip will be two research assistants, supported by her $33,649 SSHRC grant, who will have the opportunity to build their interview skills with clients in need of justice. She also aims to present at several workshops and conferences at the conclusion of the project.

“While I am using the Tamil diaspora as a case study, with future research funding I hope to investigate other case studies and refine the theory,” she says. 

Vasanthakumar is also writing a book on diaspora politics entitled, The Ethics of Exile: a political theory of diaspora, which is under contract with Oxford University Press and is based on her PhD dissertation. 

This article was originally published by the Faculty of Law.

Mark Walters (Law'89) is recognized as one of Canada’s leading scholars in public and constitutional law, legal history and legal theory. His work on the rights of Indigenous peoples, focused on treaty relations between the Crown and Canada’s Indigenous nations, has been cited by the Supreme Court of Canada, as well as by courts in Australia and New Zealand. 

As he begins his term as dean of the Faculty of Law, a return to his alma mater, his expertise will certainly help Queen’s in its continuing effort to be a leader in innovative legal education and scholarship.

“Legal education and practice are poised for enormous change,” says Tom Harris, Interim Provost and Vice-Principal (Academic). “Dr. Walters has a depth and breadth of experience in research, teaching and academic leadership that will enable Queen’s Law to continue its momentum as one of Canada’s leading law schools.”

For the past three years, Dr. Walters has held the distinguished F.R. Scott Chair in Public and Constitutional Law at McGill’s Faculty of Law. For the 17 years before that, he was a faculty member at Queen’s Law, where he led the 2008 launch of the school’s doctoral program and co-chaired the committee that developed its 2014-19 strategic plan. Previously, he taught at Oxford University after practising law in Toronto in the area of Aboriginal title and treaty rights. Over his academic career, he has held a number of research and visiting fellowships and received national awards. 

What’s also interesting about his close connection with Queen’s Law is that he literally wrote the scholarly paper chronicling the school’s first five decades in celebration of its 50th anniversary in 2007.

As he begins his five-year term, Dean Walters shares his thoughts and his plans for the school and its community members.       

How do you feel about being appointed Dean of Queen’s Law?

I’m thrilled to return to Queen’s to lead the law school in the next phase of its remarkable development. It will be a privilege to work with faculty, staff and students who are committed to excellence and innovation in legal education and research and passionate about law’s promise in building a more just society.

What attracted you to the position? 

Queen’s Law is in an enviable position. I’ve always been impressed by the people who make the school a true community. What also impresses me is that this community has set an ambitious path forward: to be a leader in innovative legal education and scholarship with a global reach. The law school has solid foundations and proud traditions, and it has expanded its faculty complement significantly and launched important new initiatives. Leading the school at this important moment is an exciting opportunity.

What did you do to prepare for your new role?  

I begin today, but my work started on March 28, when my appointment was announced. I was in close touch with (former dean) Bill Flanagan, and we planned a smooth transition. Over the past few months I met with as many people in the Queen’s Law community as possible. I attended the Queen’s Law alumni event in Toronto on May 23; the international law conference and celebration of Bill’s deanship at “the Castle,” the Bader International Study Centre in England, on May 30-31; and the Kingston alumni reception on June 19. I also met the members of the advisory board of the Queen’s Centre for Law in the Contemporary Workplace in June. 

As Dean, what will you do first?

The first thing I’ll do is to meet the new faculty members. Since I left three years ago, Queen’s Law has engaged in a remarkable expansion, and almost one-third of the faculty are new. I’m astounded by the quality of legal scholars who have joined Queen’s Law, both before and after my departure. I’ll enjoy getting to know the new faculty and learning about their research, and I can’t wait to reconnect with my wonderful former colleagues.

What are your top priorities? 

My priorities, I’m sure, are the priorities of all members of the Queen’s Law community. When I picture Queen’s Law, I see a legal-academic community with a passionate commitment to serving society through innovative legal education and groundbreaking research. It’s a school that advances critical understanding about law and the value of legality among the leaders of tomorrow – in the private and public sectors and at the local, national, and international levels. It’s a school that embraces the ideals of inclusion and diversity and, in particular, the goal of reconciliation with Indigenous peoples. These are lofty sentiments, I know. 

At a practical level, my priority is to work with faculty, students, staff, alumni and friends of Queen’s Law to develop a strategic plan for the next five years that gives these abstract aspirations concrete shape. One important part of this plan will be to address the hard reality that the school must have more financial resources to pursue its dreams. The priority, then, is to develop a plan for success through broad consultation – and then to implement it.

Find out more about Queen’s Law.

This article is an abridged version of the original article first published on the Faculty of Law website.

This year marks the 25th anniversary of the Rwandan genocide and the 10th year since the Tamil genocide in Sri Lanka. While the 1994 Rwandan genocide has become part of the world’s collective memory, the 2009 Tamil genocide has not.

Mullivaikkal Genocide Remembrance Day on May 18, named after the village that was the site of cataclysmic violence, is a day to remember those who died in the Sri Lankan conflict. Mullivaikkal commemoration events have been taking place around the world this month.

However, 10 years and a series of United Nations reports and resolutions have made little progress toward truth, accountability or reparations for the survivors of atrocity crimes in Sri Lanka. In the aftermath of the recent Easter Sunday bombings, the spectre of ethnic violence has resurfaced.

The Rwandan genocide offers important lessons for Sri Lanka.

Tutsis slaughtered

An estimated 800,000 Tutsis and politically moderate Hutu were killed in just 100 days in 1994. Thousands more were subjected to sexual violence and tortured in a systematic campaign by the Hutu ethnic majority.

Fifteen years later, another slaughter unfolded — this time in northern Sri Lanka. The protracted civil war between the national government and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) was coming to a catastrophic end. The goal of an independent state for the minority Tamils was slipping away.

Throughout the conflict, both sides failed to respect human rights and international humanitarian law. Unlawful killings and enforced disappearances carried out by the Sri Lankan security forces were daily occurrences. The LTTE was condemned for its suicide bombings and forcible recruitment of child soldiers.

For most of the 2000s, the LTTE was operating as a de facto state in the north and east. By early 2009, military losses had gradually crushed the LTTE’s civil administration of these areas.

The LTTE and an estimated 330,000 Tamil civilians were trapped in a small piece of land on the northeast coast in the Mullaithivu District. The government ordered the UN to evacuate their last few international workers from the region while international media were excluded and local journalists silenced.

Carnage unfolded

Transatlantic cellphone photos and a few video clips had begun circulating with images of the unfolding carnage. Hospitals on the front lines were systematically shelled, as were food distribution lines and even Red Cross ships attempting to evacuate the wounded.

Within a few months, a brutal siege of the officially declared “safe zone” and the indiscriminate shelling of Tamil civilians concentrated there brought the war to an end. The Sri Lankan government celebrated its successful “humanitarian rescue operation.” In fact, it was genocide.

By August 2009, Britain’s Channel 4 News was broadcasting gruesome footage of summary executions and rape perpetrated by Sri Lankan soldiers. Dozens of surrendering Tamils, including senior Tiger political leaders and their families, had been shot dead by soldiers as they walked out of the safe zone hoisting white flags.

In 2012, the UN Secretary General estimated that 40,000 civilians were killed over the final five months of the conflict. The exact number, as in many conflict situations, remains contested and is likely higher.

Once the conflict ended, hundreds of thousands of Tamils were interned in squalid camps in the northern Vanni region. Even today, thousands of Tamils remain displaced in their own country.

‘War without witness’

If the Rwandan genocide was a genocide foretold, yet no action was ever taken by the international community, then the Tamil genocide was deliberately hidden and dubbed the “war without witness.”

In both cases, the UN and the European Union had direct warnings but opted against taking action. The international community’s inertia in Rwanda and Sri Lanka has been acknowledged as “grave failures.”

The establishment of an international criminal tribunal was an explicit attempt to grapple with Rwanda’s past. Convictions were secured in the cases of 61 “ringleaders.” A groundbreaking decision on sexual violence as an act of genocide was among its many rulings. Local “gacaca courts” conducted some two million trials. A truth commission continues efforts to promote reconciliation between the Hutu and Tutsi peoples.

While highly imperfect, these transitional justice mechanisms have generated a record of what really happened and why it happened.

In contrast, Sri Lanka has repeatedly reneged on pledges to investigate and prosecute war-time atrocity crimes. Abductions, torture in custody and sexual violence remain rampant amid a long history of failed promises.

Occupied land not returned

The harassment of Tamil activists as well as targeted violence against the Muslim community continue. Commitments to demilitarize and return occupied land are unfulfilled. Weak state structures, the lack of an independent judiciary and a culture of impunity remain significant obstacles.

As Harvard University scholar Martha Minow suggests, the relentless repetition of atrocity requires a pathway between “too much forgetting” and “too much memory,” between vengeance and forgiveness. In Sri Lanka today, memory and memorialization are radical counterpoints to official state narratives that resist accounting for the past.

Holocaust survivor Primo Levi once said:

“It happened; therefore, it can happen again… it can happen everywhere.”

So long as impunity and the failure to address the root causes of atrocity crimes continue in Sri Lanka, lasting peace will remain elusive. Acknowledging the past must be a precondition to meaningful reconciliation.

A poem in Cheran’s anthology In a Time of Burning evokes the challenge of closure in the wake of mass violence:

“there is neither sea nor wind

for us to dissolve the ashes

proclaim an end

and close our eyes.”

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Sharry Aiken is an Associate Professor of Law at Queen's University and Cheran Rudhramoorthy is an Associate Professor at University of Windsor.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

The Conversation is seeking new academic contributors. Researchers wishing to write articles should contact Melinda Knox, Associate Director, Research Profile and Initiatives, at knoxm@queensu.ca.