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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.

About the Project There are few crimes with such devastating and far-reaching impacts as enforced disappearance. Innocents taken from their homes vanish to secret locations known only to the perpetrators. Imprisoned, tortured, and often killed for dubious reasons, their disappearance leaves a void in which families struggle to understand what has happened to their loved ones. In this limbo of not knowing, they exist condemned to days, months, and sometimes years of searching for clues and bits of information, left vulnerable to discrimination and abuse by the same people who disappeared their kin. Sometimes their search leads them to a grave with remains that can be identified by a personal detail, a key their child had when her life was taken or a DNA sample from a single bone. Some end up living in this limbo for the rest of their lives, unable to reconcile that their loved one is dead, desperately clinging to hope, against all odds, with the absence of the disappeared palpable every day of their life. To help depict the impact of disappearances on families, we solicited the help of some of the world’s leading photographers, whose photos bring to life the universality of the plight of the families of the disappeared. For this unique project, Rodrigo Abd, Mari Bastashevski, Marcelo Brodsky, Ziyah Gafic, Dalia Khamissy, Susan Meiselas, and Gervasio Sánchez have shared some of their most poignant images and thoughts about their experience of working with the families of the disappeared and its impact on them. The motives are as diverse as the dimensions of the pain suffered by the families. From empty rooms echoing with the voices of the taken, to personal artifacts exhumed with remains hidden by killers, to the endless conflict between despair and hope on the faces of parents who cling to the photo of their disappeared children. However, all of the images, without exception, capture the void that dominates the lives of those left behind. It is images like these that make the horror of this crime visible and real. On this International Day of the Disappeared, we invite you to take a moment to consider the awful impact of this heinous crime that has scarred numerous societies around the world and stand in solidarity with its victims in their struggle for truth and justice.

For the past three years, April 9th has become an important date to recognize more than 6 million victims of the armed conflict in Colombia. This year, hundreds of Colombians again went to the streets, to mark the National Day of Memory and Solidarity with Victims, as established by Law 1448 –also known as the Victims Law. Across the country, citizens reaffirmed their pledge of sin olvido –to never forget. While the government and the FARC continue to negotiate to put an end to an armed conflict that has lasted for more than 50 years, demonstrators voiced their demands for justice, truth and reparation to be a part of the plans for peace. “April 9th is a day to recall that the tragic history of our country is part of our collective memory of pain,” says María Camila Moreno, director of ICTJ’s Colombia program. “We should see and listen to the multitude of voices, memories, and strengths of victims and survivors.” Colombians arrived in Bogotá from various regions of the country and from different ethnic backgrounds –afrocolombians, indigenous and non-indigenous alike– came together to be part of the day’s events, organized by the Colombian Congress, the National Center for Historical Memory, the Victims Unit and other institutional and civil society organizations from the regions. The day started with the opening of the exhibition Conflict in High Resolution (Conflicto en Alta Resolución) in which Colombian youth conveyed memories of the conflict through plastic sculptures and other visual art. In recognition of the day, Colombia’s Congress hosted a special session in which victims of the conflict participated. At the event, President Juan Manuel Santos addressed the audience: “To attain peace is the most valuable achievement of any society. In the case of Colombia, a country that has suffered so much because of the violence, it has an even greater value.” In addition, people marched through the in the streets of the capital following the so called “Memory Route,” beginning at the National Park and ending in Plaza de Bolivar, in the city center. Many marchers carried photographs of relatives that were killed or disappeared, faces in a sea of white flags, symbols of the demand for peace. Many of the demonstrators held banners calling for justice and reparation for victims. “The National Memory Day is not a simple claim, nor a call for sentimentalism: it is, above all, a reparative act, aimed at the reconstruction of civic trust,” said Moreno.

For years the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) captured thousands of young girls in northern Uganda, forcing them to be not only soldiers, but wives and mothers too. When these women finally escaped their captors, children in tow, they hoped to be welcomed back into their communities. Instead, they and their children were met with rejection because of their time “in the bush” with the LRA. This stigma continues to have severe social and economic consequences for mother and child: they are socially marginalized and can scarcely meet basic needs, such as food, clothing, and shelter. The children often cannot afford school, and face scorn when they are able to attend. Since 2015 ICTJ has allied with two local organizations to understand the impact of the lack of accountability for sexual violence committed during the conflict and advocate for redress. Founded by mothers who gave birth in LRA captivity, Watye Ki Gen and the Women’s Advocacy Network (WAN) work at a grassroots level to confront the pervasive stigma in their communities. They empower children born of wartime rape, and their mothers, both socially and economically. Watye Ki Gen has taken the lead in identifying and documenting children born in captivity and bringing them together in support groups. It provides counseling and support to the children, helping them address the stigma they face both at home and within their communities. WAN advocates for economic independence for formerly abducted women while also providing them with the tools needed to advocate for their rights. It offers literacy classes and other training, and its members petition the government to fulfill its obligations to them and their children. Go inside the work of both Watye Ki Gen and WAN, and meet the inspiring women behind their missions.

In Côte d’Ivoire, the state aims to restore victims’ rights and offer reparations to those affected by 2010’s post-election violence. A couple of years ago ICTJ came to the conclusion that discussions about how to provide reparations to victims had not sufficiently considered victims' opinions and needs, particularly of those living in the provinces or in marginal areas, some of whom were the most affected by the conflict. To help address these shortcomings, ICTJ organized consultations throughout the country, providing victims with forums to discuss their needs. Participants discussed the consequences of the conflict, the obstacles they now face as a result, and what sorts of policies would meet their needs. The forums included men, women and youth in Côte d’Ivoire, reflecting the diversity of experiences during the conflict and the needs that manifest themselves in communities today. The demands and suggestions expressed in these consultations form the basis of our new report, “Recommendations for Victim Reparations in Côte d’Ivoire.” Go inside the consultation process with Senior Associate Cristián Correa of ICTJ’s Reparative Justice Program, who besides conducting the project and co-authoring the report photographed the experience.

Thousands of children were born as a result of sexual violence in northern Uganda during the armed conflict that lasted from 1986 to 2007. Now, as teenagers and young adults who are trying to find their place back in their communities, these young men and women face a multitude of challenges – including stigma, poverty, and social exclusion – which hinder their reintegration into society and their future prospects. Over the two-decade conflict, girls and young women were specifically targeted for sexual violence by the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) and, in some cases, state forces. Among the serious crimes committed by the LRA, led by the infamous Joseph Kony, it is estimated that some 66,000 children and youth were abducted to serve as soldiers or sex slaves. ICTJ spoke with 249 people in the northern regions of Acholi, Lango, Teso, and West Nile in April 2015 to analyze the long-term consequences of the lack of accountability sexual violence committed during the conflict. Among those interviewed there were 52 children born of sexual violence (27 girls, 25 boys), who reflected on the challenges they face through group discussions and drawing exercises. Nothing can capture more clearly the ongoing impact of sexual violence than the words written by these young women and men. This photo gallery presents a selection of their drawings and thoughts on how their communities perceive them and how they see themselves and their hopes for the future. Children born of sexual violence are marginalized in northern Uganda. They are scorned for coming “from the bush,” they are labeled as “useless,” “cursed,” “failures,” “mad,” and even “monsters.” They are constantly reminded of their association to Joseph Kony, when people call them “child of Kony” or “wife of Kony.” Deep social stigmatization and exclusion often affects the children’s mothers and caretakers as well. “In Lamwo, where my grandparents stay, others abuse my grandparents because of me, others tell them to send me away to my mother, but because of their love they can’t,” wrote a 14-year-old girl from Pader District. When describing themselves in these drawings, the adolescents show resilience in moving past this rejection. They see themselves as “beautiful,” “innocent,” “positive,” “proud,” and capable of building a better future for themselves, their communities, and their country. “Being a war-affected person cannot prevent me from being either a doctor or the President of Uganda.” wrote a 19-year-old male from Oyam District. Nevertheless, many express contradictory feelings and frustration caused by the institutional neglect and total lack of opportunities. “Sometimes I lose hope because I have nothing,” wrote a young male from Gulu. Many participants emphasize that they need support in order to have successful futures and contribute to their communities. They often describe themselves as “poor” and see their economic struggle as a major obstacle in achieving the goals. “I want to study so that I can be responsible, but no one can support me in paying my school fees requirement. I don’t know where to go!!!” wrote a young girl from Gulu. Most of the adolescents see education as the essential step towards personal improvement, and they often link their own well-being to that of their communities and their country. In the words of a young girl from Gulu: “I see myself as useful to the community and I am working hard to change my life. I am hoping to have a good living. I want to help my parents, relatives and all of Uganda.” As ICTJ’s new report concludes, the social and economic challenges suffered by children born of sexual violence in Uganda and their mothers need urgent attention. The Ugandan government must to listen to these young women and men’s demands, acknowledge that their rights were violated, and provide the redress to which they are entitled. Read and download ICTJ’s report “From Rejection to Redress: Overcoming Legacies of Conflict-Related Sexual Violence in Northern Uganda,” and watch our film about their fight for justice.