Search

The photography exhibition “All Our Tears” weaves together the stories of victims from the wars in the Western Balkan region in the 1990s. It consists of 34 original photographs, taken by four photographers in various locations in Kosovo, North Macedonia, and Serbia. The photographs feature artifacts such as family photos of missing persons as well as sites of atrocities, mass graves, and memorials, bringing into sharp focus the tragedy of war and its devastating consequences on the lives of victims. The exhibition had its final opening at the gallery in the Council of Europe’s Palais de l’Europe, in Strasbourg, France, in June 2023. In 2022, it traveled through the region, with openings in Belgrade, Serbia; Prishtina, Kosovo; and Skopje, Macedonia. The exhibition was part of “Strengthening Inclusive Victim Voices, Transforming Narratives,” a three-year project funded by the European Union (EU) that brought together civil society organizations and victims’ groups in Kosovo, North Macedonia, and Serbia, along with the international organizations ICTJ and PAX to develop meaningful, victim-led peacebuilding and reconciliation initiatives in the region. As part of the EU project, the organizations also developed a set of shared, victim-centered, and context-specific transitional justice principles that victims’ groups in the Western Balkans can use to guide their work at the national and regional levels. PHOTO: Attendees walk through the “All Our Tears” exhibition in the Council of Europe’s Palais de l’Europe, in Strasbourg, France, in June 2023. (ICTJ) Throughout the 1990s, as Yugoslavia broke apart, its territories became brutal battlegrounds and the sites of the most serious conflict and abuses in Europe since World War II. The abuses included widespread attacks against civilians, enforced disappearances, population expulsions, systematic rape, and the use of concentration camps. Between 1991 and 2000, more than 140,000 people were killed, and almost four million others were displaced. The issue of the missing continues to haunt the region: At the time hostilities ended, an estimated 35,000 people were unaccounted for, and many families are still waiting for answers regarding the fate of their loved ones. “All Our Tears” shines a light on the experiences of the families of the missing and deceased as well as internally displaced persons in the region, and seeks to mobilize broader public support in their search for truth and justice. “This regional project exemplifies a remarkable collaboration among diverse groups, transcending borders and fostering unity in the pursuit of truth, justice, and healing for families affected by the wars in ex-Yugoslavia,” explained Teodora Zahirović, the public relations manager at Civic Initiatives, a Serbian civil society organization that participated in the project and helped organize the exhibition. For more information on “All Our Tears,” including detailed photo captions, see the exhibition catalogue.

Around the world, the COVID-19 pandemic has revealed enduring legacies of repression. Some leaders have taken advantage of emergency measures meant to protect the population and curb the spread of the disease to instead crack down on civil society or political opposition and restrict civil liberties and freedoms. In this sense, the global health crisis has served a reminder of democracy’s fragility and the ever-present dangers of censorship, oppression, and authoritarianism. In Tunisia, where the wounds of the Ben Ali dictatorship are still fresh, the importance of this reminder has not been lost. In 2020, ICTJ’s office in Tunisia launched “Voices from Isolation,” an online campaign about historical memory in the time of a global pandemic. It encouraged Tunisians to remember and reflect on marginalized groups who have borne the brunt of the coronavirus disease the lockdown measures put in place to contain its spread.  The Voices from Isolation campaign included the “Create to Connect” art contest. The competition was open to emerging and mid-career Tunisian artists as well as artists for elsewhere but based in Tunisia. The artists, who work in a wide-range of mediums, all created the pieces they entered in the contest in response to the COVID-19 pandemic. “The situation with COVID-19 remains turbulent, and reflecting on one's own life at this time feels like a constant work in progress, which involves stepping back from the present in an attempt to understand its shifts,” said photographer and third-place-winner Lotfi Gharini. The global pandemic brought to the surface and exacerbated underlying injustices, forcing artists to reexamine society, history, and their relationship to the world around them. “In this project, I let the past—embodied through my personal memories and childhood universe in Sbiba [a city in Tunisia’s Midwest]—serve as a starting point to explore and bifurcate three essential questions concerning the future. What can I know? What must I do? What can I hope for?,” explained Issam Smiri, a comic artist and the second-place winner. ”Confinement allowed me to explore this universe further and served as a creative catalyst.”  Through Create to Connect, ICTJ was able leverage art to spark important conversations about Tunisia’s past as well as ongoing inequality and exclusion in the country. It also shined a spotlight on Tunisia’s talented artists and encouraged them and others to continue their vitally important work. “The contemporary art scene and alternative means of communication have always served as a fertile ground for broaching difficult conversations about the past,” explained Salwa El Gantri, head of ICTJ’s Tunisia office. “The Create to Connect art competition invited artists and audiences to reflect on the role of art at the intersection of social, political, and economic turmoil in Tunisia. The artwork serves a vehicle of expression and self-representation for the oppressed and under-represented members of Tunisia society.”

Ongoing economic and social inequality, a legacy of the dictatorship, affects Tunisians across generations, but has particularly pronounced impacts on young people. ICTJ worked with four young photographers to confront the consequences of marginalization and explore its impacts on Tunisian youth. Their four photo galleries comprise the exhibition "Marginalization in Tunisia: Images of an Invisible Repression.” In this gallery, Nedra Jouini explores the sense of dread and isolation she says is the result of economic and social exclusion.

Some of the relatives’ stories start with the banging of a door at night, followed by a sudden abduction; others begin with a seemingly innocent citation to appear at a police station for a “routine procedure”. In any case, the stories always unfold in a desolate manner: as a loved one vanishes without official explanation, the family starts a desperate pilgrimage to hospitals, barracks, morgues and clandestine burial sites, only to be mocked and stigmatized. The crime of enforced disappearance—the abduction of a person followed by the indefinite denial of their detention and of information on their whereabouts—is one of the cruelest and most effective forms of repression. The relatives and social circles of the disappeared suffer a deep sense of anxiety and fear that has been recognized as a form of torture; communities and organizations weaken under a pall of terror. The Working Group on Enforced or Involuntary Detentions, a UN body established in 1980 to assist the families of the disappeared seeking cooperation from the governments concerned, has examined over 54,000 cases representing violations that took place in 104 countries. This is but a fraction of known cases from around the world. The contexts where disappearances have taken place vary widely: a military dictatorship, like the Argentine junta in the 1980s; a civil war like Algeria’s in the 1990s; the so-called “war on terror” in more recent times. Disappearances violate several fundamental rights, including the right to life, to legal recognition as a person, to due process guarantees, and to be protected from torture. In addition, since perpetrators hide information, the relatives’ and society’s right to know the truth is also violated. Several countries where ICTJ has worked over the years have developed policies to address the needs of families of those who are missing: truth commission in Peru, Morocco, and Brazil established authoritative lists of victims, identified sites of illegal detention and clandestine gravesites; and local forensic experts have developed impressive technical knowledge, conducting thousands of exhumations, identifying remains and returning remains to families in countries like South Africa, Bosnia, and Guatemala. But what needs to be done is still much more than the progress in the terrain: governments often put legislation to seek the disappeared on the back burner or fail to provide sufficient resources to their experts, inured to the demands of aging, desperate relatives. On the International Day of the Victims of Enforced Disappearances, ICTJ joins efforts worldwide to uphold the rights and reflect the dignity of the victims and their relatives. The struggle of the relatives of the disappeared has been a source of inspiration to all of us who work in transitional justice processes and in defense of human rights more generally. They set an example for us with their courage and creativity in insisting on the right to know what happened to their loved ones, in demanding justice and in keeping the presence of the disappeared alive in the broader society. On this International Day of the Victims of Enforced Disappearance, ICTJ is highlighting some of the many forms that relatives of the disappeared have used to promote and honor the memory of the disappeared around the world. These memorials and commemorative practices help to educate the public about this horrible crime, about the lives that were lost and fates that were hidden, and to remind the citizens of a continued responsibility to unveil the truth and seek justice for the disappeared. In some places where democracy has strengthened since authoritarian regimes, like Chile and Argentina, memorials have gained official status and receive thousands of visitors; in other countries, like Lebanon or Nepal, the relatives perform demonstrations and pilgrimages to mark the disappearances; while artists and civil society supporters in Peru develop other forms of commemoration, like the ceremonial knitting of clothing objects with the names of the disappeared. Everywhere, these commemorative practices and sites are imbued by the symbolic power of one of the most basic human cultural needs: grieving for the dead, and honoring them in accordance to each community’s spiritual beliefs. Memorials allow for mourning, but they also facilitate dialogue and learning. They can mobilize educators, artists, religious leaders, and other constituencies whose participation is critical to affect societal transformation. The importance of memorializing is critical not only to the relatives of the disappeared but to new generations focused on a future free of abuse. Commemorating the disappeared—honoring their dignity and their relatives’ struggle—is an integral element of transitional justice that governments and society need to uphold.

Across the state of Maryland, communities are coming together to uncover the truth about racial terror lynchings and seek redress for the enduring consequences of these crimes. “More than the poll tax, the grandfather clause, and Jim Crow segregation, lynching and the threat of lynching helped regulate and restrict all aspects of black advancement, independence, and citizenship,” writes Sheryllyn Ifill in her book On the Courthouse Lawn. Between 1877 and 1950, over 4,000 African Americans were lynched across the United States. Lynchings were public acts of racial terrorism designed to instill fear and devastate African American communities. No one was held accountable for these grave human rights violations; instead, many officials turned a blind eye or condoned this violence. The Maryland Lynching Truth and Reconciliation Commission was formed by state legislators and signed into law in 2019. It is mandated to investigate racial terror lynchings in the state, hold public hearings, and make recommendations for addressing this violent legacy. It is the first and only commission of its kind in the nation. This state-level effort is complemented by county-level commissions and a strong network of volunteers determined to break the silence and complicity around these crimes and prevent their recurrence. As Karen Hughes White, a descendant of Robert Hughes who was lynched in Cumberland, Maryland, put it: "America needs to stand accountable for its children. Period.” As ICTJ has seen in its work around the world, revealing the truth and humanizing and honoring the victims of human rights violations are crucial first steps in this long-term process. For more, visit "The Ghosts of Racial Violence in Maryland" feature story.