“Let your smile change the world”

By Alicia Blimkie

This might sound a bit strange, but I never thought about the Philippines as a “developing country” until I found out that I would be spending the summer in Manila. Growing up in Vancouver and attending Catholic school all my life, I was surrounded with friends and acquaintances who were Filipino. Because it was a place I heard about often, it didn’t seem foreign to me in the way that other developing countries did as I was growing up. I didn’t think about the Philippines as a nation of malnourished children living in shacks, like the one-sided images of Africa that my young brain saw on TV, but as the place where many of my friends were from. When I heard where I would be spending the summer I didn’t give much thought to any culture shock that I would experience until I arrived and the sun, humidity, traffic and bugs welcomed me to the old “Pearl of the Orient”.

A courtyard in the Commission on Human Rights

As part of its obligations under the UN Committee on the Rights of the Child, the Philippines must submit a state report. The national Commission on Human Rights is in the process of compiling information for an alternative report. In partnership with the Ateneo Human Rights Centre (AHRC) and UNICEF, the Commission held regional inquiries throughout the country to gather input on the implementation of the Convention of the Rights of the Child (CRC) from children themselves. I was able to attend the session in the National Capital Region (NCR), which focused on three topics: the children of overseas Filipino workers (OFWs – sorry, lots of acronyms), children with HIV/AIDS, and discrimination against children born to unwedded parents.

In Canada, we think about OFWs in the context of temporary workers who come into the country. As immigration advocates, we focus on their conditions of employment, access to legal remedies, and potential for permanent residence. These are all important, but we tend not to see temporary migrant workers from the opposite perspective, that of the children across the ocean who lose a mother or a father for years on end. At the NCR inquiry, the children spoke of the pain of not having a parental figure to share their life with. Some are abused by the caregivers they are left with in the Philippines. Those who travel with their parents may not be able to access social services, including education, in their destination country. This discussion reminded me of a recently published article in the Globe and Mail.[1] The article spoke of the difficulties of Filipino children who are able to migrate to Canada only years after their parents arrive. It speaks of how gaps in the Canadian immigration system have caused some of the painful separation that I witnessed the children speak of here in Manila. In some ways, Canada and the Philippines are linked by movement of labourers, who should be seen as mothers, fathers, sisters or brothers, rather than just a boost to the economy.

2000 year-old Ifugao rice terraces in Northern Luzon

The second theme discussed was HIV/AIDS. It was shocking for me to discover that the Philippines has the fastest growing rate of HIV infections in Asia. Most of these new infections occur in youth, most of whom are men. A large problem is unwillingness to talk about the issue. It is seen as taboo, linked with sex and drugs. To me, this issue really highlighted the invisible nature of many human rights concerns. Other human rights abuses plaguing the country, such as extrajudicial killings or labour rights, are much more visible and publicized. The danger of taboo subjects that live inside a person is that a child’s life may be irrevocably changed because their parent or teacher was too embarrassed to speak to them about HIV and AIDS.

The final issue was that of children born out of wedlock. For children in this situation, the Family Code declares them “illegitimate”, and they have different rights than “legitimate” children. Many of these children face discrimination socially, as well as legally, despite the fact that a 2016 survey conducted by the Philippine Statistics Authority found that nearly half of all births that year occurred out of wedlock.[2]  One activity at the NCR inquiry involved the children preparing skits. One group acted out a child being mocked at school because she had a different surname than her sister, which one child later revealed was based on personal experience.

Tricycles: a common means of transportation

After zooming in on these issues, it’s useful to take a step back and realize that the NCR inquiry also highlighted something that the Philippines is doing well. Article 12 of the CRC states that children should be able to express their views freely on matters that affect them and should be provided with opportunities to be heard. The Committee on the Rights of the Child praised the Philippines in its 2009 report for its efforts on child participation. The AHRC is committed to fulfilling this Article of the CRC through many of its other initiatives, as well.

Sunset over Makati

While I knew that I would learn about human rights concerns while I was in Manila, I didn’t really anticipate the number of times when I would encounter something that the Philippines was doing better than Canada. Does Canada ask its children – those in poverty or in indigenous communities – whether their rights are being fulfilled? This brings me back to my conceptual difficulty in placing the Philippines in the same box as all other developing countries. Not that it is better or worse than other “third world” nations, but each of these countries is drastically different. I think one thing I have learned here is that development is not a straight line. This is one of those things that’s obvious when you say it, but is very different to actually experience. While the Philippines’ efforts in child participation, achievements in gender equality, and its regionally lauded refugee system place it ahead of many countries, its record is worse on other human rights issues. As much as we need to concentrate on problem areas to develop strategies to fix them, there are also times when we need to take note of human rights successes, or risk getting bogged down in failures. As one child at the NCR inquiry quoted: “Don’t let the world change your smile, let your smile change the world”.

 

[1]https://www.theglobeandmail.com/opinion/article-for-this-generation-of-filipino-canadians-broken-policies-have-left-a/

[2]https://psa.gov.ph/content/births-philippines-2016

Challenging Narratives: Development, Duvalier, and interning at ASFC

By: Sarah Cha

“The solutions to Haiti’s suffering are usually characterized by images of engineers digging wells, construction workers building houses, and especially doctors treating the sick. But the physician most associated with Haiti relief, Dr. Paul Farmer […] places much of his hope for the country in the hands of lawyers. “The current justice system’s shortcomings […] underlie almost all of Haiti’s problems”.[1]  

I came across this passage a couple of weeks ago sitting at my desk at Avocats sans frontières Canada (ASFC), knee-deep in research on the Duvalier case. This was a case that had made international headlines in 2011 when it began and once again in 2014 with former dictator Jean-Claude “Baby Doc” Duvalier’s (untimely) death. How about since then? For all intents and purposes, the case has more or less been relegated to the shelf.

I had heard little about the case before starting this internship in Québec City. While aware of Haiti’s turbulent political history, Haiti was a country whose name was much more likely to evoke thoughts of earthquakes, poverty, and cholera than it ever would dictatorship, international crimes, or impunity.

Now, given that the 29-year dictatorial reign of the Duvalier father-son duo ended in the mid-1980s and that the legal case has yet to reach trial (after over five years), maybe this isn’t so surprising.

But, this is the story of a dictator who suddenly came home in 2011 after a comfortable 25-year exile abroad – not to face justice for crimes which continue to affect Haitian society today, but instead to live lavishly among many of his former victims and their families. Personal invitations by then-President Martelly to official ceremonies, loosely-enforced house arrest, and talk of amnesty under the guise of reconciliation all effectively served to trivialize the charges of crimes against humanity and financial corruption he officially faced. As aptly remarked by Reed Brody of Human Rights Watch: “Where is the outrage we [the international community] would have if the brutal leaders of Iraq or Serbia were walking around free? We would not allow this anywhere else.”[2] Indeed, there is nothing quite like having the former dictator – the “living embodiment of ultimate impunity”[3]  – freely walking around a nation’s capital to reveal the rule of rule in a country to be little more than a myth. While Duvalier can no longer be personally prosecuted so as to provide a measure of justice to his regime’s victims, his “consorts” (similarly accused of committing countless atrocities) most certainly can.

So, what makes this case (and Haiti) different? Why were we and do we continue to be so willing to provide Haiti with lots of development aid, while distancing ourselves when it comes to prosecuting a former dictator (and members of his regime) whose very lack of accountability for crimes against humanity arguably laid the foundation for Haiti’s current pattern of impunity?[4] Where is the involvement of the U.S., so readily immersed in Haiti’s political matters for two centuries, but all of a sudden unwilling to implicate itself much beyond the provision of humanitarian relief?[5]

Given there is arguably little serious legal controversy surrounding the Duvalier case, scholar Fran Quigley believes that only political controversy is left to explain the lack of political will—both national and international—behind the case. More specifically, a “Duvalier prosecution would inevitably expose embarrassing details of the long U.S. pattern of supporting the Duvaliers financially and militarily despite awareness of the regime’s brutality and thievery.”[6] From this perspective, the lack of Western involvement in the Duvalier case can be better understood by recalling its past complicity in permitting the very same human rights violations targeted by that case to go on for as long as Duvalier was seen as being key in the fight against communism.[7]

Focusing on development aid (and promoting the narrative that features such aid as being the key solution) conveniently helps avoid delving into such messy controversy. In this light, the association of earthquakes with Haiti really couldn’t be better, for the simple reason that, unlike dictatorships, an earthquake can be seen to be a natural, unpreventable, and, most importantly, fault-free, disaster.

Here’s another related example. Both the Haiti cholera outbreak and earthquake happened in 2010, while the Duvalier case about nearly thirty years of brutal international crimes began a year later – and yet, it is the earthquake with which many associate Haiti the most. Why is that? At least part of the reason may have to do with the fact that both the cholera outbreak and the Duvalier case illustrate a crisis of accountability for past abuses in a way that the earthquake simply doesn’t. As many are now aware following the 2016 admission by the U.N. of its role in the cholera epidemic brought in by its peacekeepers, this outbreak wasn’t merely a humanitarian matter, but a human rights crisis that easily might have been and should have been avoided.

And, so, it becomes less surprising to me that earthquakes and poverty easily make it into the dominant Haitian narrative – the one casting it as “the poorest nation in the Western hemisphere”[8] – while impunity and Western complicity in the Duvalier regime’s human rights violations are easily ignored. This narrative is compelling in its simplicity, as perhaps any good narrative should be. But, it is also one that is undeniably distorted if it is meant to be a representation of the whole reality – key if the “solutions to Haiti’s suffering” (as worded by Dr. Farmer in the quote above) are to be found. No narrative that ignores a country’s geopolitical and social history can possibly be accurate. Ahistorical narratives are ultimately uninformed ones, such that representations of Haiti as a poverty-stricken, earthquake-ridden nation frankly serve to allow the same problems to continue: the same lack of accountability, the continued neo-colonial experimentation.[9] While development relief undoubtedly remains important, the aftermath of both the Duvalier regime and the cholera outbreak significantly underscore “charity’s inadequacy as a stand-in for justice”.[10]

The way I see it, by supporting victims of human rights abuses under Duvalier’s regime in demanding justice and insisting that violations not be left in the past, organizations like ASFC are helping to stitch an important but often-neglected narrative into this dominant narrative for a more complete picture of Haiti. The strategic litigation of emblematic cases like the Duvalier case is just one part of the work ASFC carries out in countries around the world, working closely with domestic lawyers on the ground to develop the human rights jurisprudence in a country. In this way, it helps to build a justice system that can help correct wrongs and to allow for a real, rather than apparent, rule of law.

Listening to the voices of Haitians demanding justice for past human rights violations and an end to the cycle of impunity – having them write the narrative of their own country – would be a good place to start.

(Another reason the passage above struck me? Given the seemingly unrelenting reminder of the limits of law as a tool for social justice – and that it just isn’t all about lawyers – that has been my law school experience (only exaggerating a bit here), seeing positive representations of lawyers and law’s potential in human rights work really just never gets old.)

 

[1] Fran Quigley, “‘Judge Him’: Pursuing Duvalier” from How Human Rights Can Build Haiti: Activists, Lawyers, and the Grassroots Campaign (Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 2014) at 41.

[2] Ibid at 41.

[3] Jorge Heine, “Jean-Claude Duvalier Should Be Tried for More than Corruption” The Toronto Star (5 February 2012), online: <https://www.thestar.com/opinion/editorialopinion/2012/02/05/jeanclaude_duvalier_should_be_tried_for_more_than_corruption.html>.

[4] Human Rights Watch, “Thirst for Justice: A Decade of Impunity in Haiti » 8:7(B) (September 1996), online: <https://www.hrw.org/reports/1996/Haiti.htm>.

[5] For example, commenting on Duvalier’s return, the spokesperson for the U.S. Department of State P.J. Crowley remarked that “What happens at this point forward is a matter for the people of Haiti … This is their concern, not ours”. See: <http://www.reuters.com/article/us-haiti-duvalier-usa-idUSTRE70H5WN20110118>.

[6] Quigley, supra note 1 at 39.

[7] “It’s a Shame Jean-Claude Duvalier Died a Free Man, Says Ex-UN Prosecutor” CBC News (4 October 2014), online: <http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/montreal/it-s-a-shame-jean-claude-duvalier-died-a-free-man-says-ex-un-prosecutor-1.2787931>.

[8] This dubious honour may now belong to Venezuela. See: http://www.caribbeannewsnow.com/headline-Venezuela-takes-over-from-Haiti-as-the-poorest-country-in-the-hemisphere-33573.html

[9] See interview with Gina Athena Ulysse: <http://www.aaihs.org/why-haiti-needs-new-narratives-an-interview-with-gina-athena-ulysse/>.

[10] Fran Quigley, “Haiti’s Earthquake Was Devastating. The Cholera Epidemic Was Worse.” The Nation (16 October 2015), online: <https://www.thenation.com/article/haitis-earthquake-was-devastating-the-cholera-epidemic-was-worse/>.

[11] M.R. O’Connor, “The World’s Favorite Disaster Story: One of the Most Repeated Facts about Haiti is a Lie”, Vice News Canada (13 October 2016), online: <https://news.vice.com/story/one-of-the-most-repeated-facts-about-deforestation-in-haiti-is-a-lie>.

Law as a tool for development?

kelly_mcmillanBy Kelly McMillan

After finishing an undergraduate degree in international development studies, I was eager for some “real field experience”. Sure, I had participated in a number of valuable development-related internships in Canada, but I wanted a taste of how Development (as industry) operates on the ground. In 2006, I headed to Cameroon to participate in a 10-month internship on housing rights. I touched on a wide range of projects over those months, from trainings on income-generating activities for women, to facilitating the commercialization of local produce, to improving an existing microcredit facility, to organizing workshops on gender-based violence, to offering legal information seminars on housing and family law issues.

It was this last experience that ultimately motivated me to study law. Over the course of that year, I was exposed to a number of consultants in various fields passing through the organization and offering their expertise with concrete, tangible results. I felt my background in IDS was insufficient to allow me to make any really meaningful contribution. In particular, I was frustrated by the small scale of the community-based interventions I was involved in, and was discouraged by the lack of immediate results in some of the more policy-oriented initiatives. I felt that law—and community legal services in particular—would be my own “tool” to use to further women’s rights in the international context.

So, four years later, I was thrilled to have been selected for McGill CHRLP’s internship placement at the Refugee Law Project. I have already worked for two legal clinics in Montreal, and love the satisfaction that comes from solving a real human being’s concrete problem. It was a perfect combination of my IDS background and legal skills.

Perhaps it shouldn’t have come as so much of a shock to me that a few short weeks into my internship, the things that seemed less significant to me in my first overseas experience are the exact ones I find starkly absent in my present placement—namely, small-scale income-generating activities, vocational training programs and microcredit facilities! Not to mention an overarching philosophy of what is trying to be achieved.

On one of my first days, a counsellor at RLP summed up the general feeling of frustration I have since heard echoed by a number of RLP staff: “I refuse to counsel a hungry refugee!”

For someone who had initially been so optimistic about the promise of legal aid in development, this was a disturbing thing to hear. I have been thinking about it more and more: legal aid and psychosocial support is well and good, but is not enough for a person who fails to meet even the basic daily needs of herself and her family. Many refugees wait outside RLP all day without a meal. Many of the children cannot attend school for want of funds for transportation, uniforms and supplies and so instead work as house girls under oftentimes harsh conditions. I have heard the children themselves articulate education as their single biggest priority. As Intake Officer, a majority of my clients’ problems are not really legal, but medical or financial.

Although, admittedly, one organization cannot do everything, perhaps CONGEH did have the right recipe after all: an integrated approach focusing on finding sustainable ways to meet communities’ basic needs first, with some small resources to address individual legal problems in the short-term, but with a greater emphasis on preventing the legal issues from arising through information campaigns. I certainly don’t have an easy answer to this (surely there isn’t one), but now I have an even greater respect for (and am more in tune to) the priorities as identified by refugees, rather than donors.

So while Uganda’s theme for this year’s world refugee day (June 20th) is “Self-Reliance: Life Beyond Relief Aid”, I am perplexed by an almost total lack of services available to Kampala’s refugees to assist them in actually building such a life. For a person who has just lost everything, a start-up loan could go a long way…

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