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Over the last 15 years, the Ugandan government has implemented a series of recovery and reconstruction programs in Northern Uganda to address the social and economic devastation caused by the two-decade armed conflict in the region and set it on the path to sustainable peace. While these development programs alone cannot fulfill the state’s obligation to provide reparations to victims of human rights violations, if designed well, they can form a foundation upon which future reparations initiatives can be built.

During this global pandemic, how do organizations such as ICTJ continue with their victim-centered and context-specific work, when their staff members cannot meet face to face with partners bilaterally, much less at organized convenings? The answer to these questions involves both rethinking how to use tools currently available and developing or finding new ones.

Sparing almost no corner of the world from its wrath, the COVID-19 pandemic has now spread to every country. In an effort to slow the contagion, governments in most countries have been taking drastic measures requiring all residents other than essential workers to confine themselves in their homes, and shutting down vast sectors of their economies. The impact has been crushing. COVID-19 has profoundly affected every country where ICTJ currently works: Armenia, Colombia, Cote d’Ivoire, Ethiopia, Gambia, Kenya, Lebanon, Libya, Sudan, Syria, Tunisia, and Uganda. We recently caught up with ICTJ’s heads of country programs to learn more about the impact the pandemic is having on transitional justice and society more broadly.

For the past few months, ICTJ, along with our partners at the Center on International Cooperation at New York University, has been working on a comprehensive new policy paper on the situation of the many thousands of Syrians detained somewhere in the country’s vast network of prisons. The depravity that goes on inside these detention sites is already so appalling that it would have been hard to imagine when we started the project that the situation for the prisoners could get any worse. And then the COVID-19 pandemic hit, upending all of our preconceptions, and our lives, in ways none of us ever expected.

This week, the International Criminal Court heard closing arguments in the trial of Dominic Ongwen, a top commander of the Lord’s Resistance Army in Northern Uganda. Among the 70 counts of war crimes and crimes against humanity he faces are 19 counts of sexual and gender-based crimes, including rape, sexual slavery, and forced marriage—the widest range of such crimes ever to be brought to trial before the court. The case thus marks a milestone in the jurisprudence of these international crimes.

“Vetoes and excuses get in the way of what is right and just.” With those words, Amina Khoulani, Cofounder of Families for Freedom, spelled out the failings of the United Nations Security Council, as she described in lurid detail the harsh realities facing families of the disappeared in Syria. Actors with the power to stop the killing of detainees and to free those still imprisoned are forsaking their responsibilities.

The trend of missing and disappeared persons due to conflict remains more prevalent than ever today. Many governments around the world have remained undeterred in their abuse of power to invade a home or community and remove persons deemed to be a threat. This intractable problem has received global attention largely due to the efforts of family members who often risk their lives in pursuit of the right to know and ‍‍to bury their loved ones.

When the government of Uganda signed the Juba Agreement on Accountability and Reconciliation (AAR) with the rebel group the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) in 2007, it committed to establishing concrete measures that would promote accountability, reconciliation, and justice for victims of serious human rights violations stemming from two decades of armed conflict. More than ten years later, on June 17, 2019, Uganda’s Cabinet finally approved the long-awaited National Transitional Justice (TJ) Policy.

In designing transitional justice in Armenia, policymakers, civil society activists, and international actors should remember those who have not had justice for so long: the families of those killed or injured in March 2008, the victims of torture and political detention, the mothers in black seeking the truth about why their soldier sons were killed, the old pensioners who live in cold and hunger, farmers and rural communities who need access to social services, and students and young citizens who saw that their hope for a better future required a revolution.

This is the second of our Stories of Change series; in it, Tarek al-Massri, an 18-year-old from Homs now living in Germany, knows all too well the horrors of the Syrian conflict and its devastating impact on schools.