Introduction Victims play a crucial but ambivalent role in genocide trials: their testimony can contribute to the prosecution of indicted war criminals, but the price they pay is that of 'reliving' the genocide attack. As every detail could be crucial for sentencing war criminals, the victims must delve into difficult histories and answer confronting questions such as 'how were you attacked?', 'what injuries have you suffered?' and 'how was your family killed?' Victims can only answer these questions by metaphorically reliving the moment of attack. Speaking publicly about their late is a painful issue for victims, but it is also a way to give voice to the marginalised. This expands on the much-discussed theme of 'voicelessness' by marginalisation within cultural studies, and attempts to exit this situation. Works of, for example, Antonio Gramsci (1991), expand on the concept of cultural hegemony, or Jurgen Habermas' (1989) idea about the public sphere concerns the imposition of thinking, speaking and silence structures. Cultural studies partly has an interest in voicelessness, because it views this as a socio-political construction. According to Arthur Kleinman et al, the testimonies of the victims bring this structure to the surface, because they place the suffering in a social context: 'Social suffering results from what political, economic, and institutional power does to people, and reciprocally, from how these forms of power themselves influence responses to social problems' (1997: ix). Thus, 'social suffering' shows 'the interpersonal grounds of suffering: or in other words, that suffering is a social experience' (ibid.). And that is always the case with genocide: this atrocity requires a high degree of institutional organisation (think of the military), policies and economic activities (as will become clear in this article, the genocide charges are against a businessman). Victims bearing witness in court is therefore not only of a legal nature, it is a political act. As John Beverley states: 'It has to do with how people who are marginalised, repressed, and exploited [...] use something like testimonio for their purposes: that is, as a weapon, a way of fighting back. [...] To recall Marx's well-known distinction, testimonio aspires not only to interpret the world but also to change it' (2004: xvi). The withdrawal from the position of subordination was the case in the trial against Dutch businessman, Frans van Anraat, charged with providing assistance to the genocide committed by Saddam Hussein's regime in the Kurdish town of Halabja: (1) the victims, who were assisted by the Halabja Committee, and by reliving the genocide attack in court, contributed to the conviction of a major war criminal. (2) The lawsuit has cost the Halabja Committee's chairman, Amir Khadir, five years of his life: a year-and-a-half of preparations and then the trial itself (including the appeal). It was a psychologically draining process: hearing the witnesses, providing assistance to the victims and translating documents along with the painful recollection of circumstances in which family and friends were lost or injured. Amir Khadir recalled a victim who at the time of the attacks was three years of age. Now aged 25, only 30 per cent of his lung capacity remains; after taking just four steps up a flight of stairs, he is tired and needs to rest. Listening to the accounts of victims such as these was difficult for many in the courtroom; the recollections of one of the victims reduced the entire courtroom to tears, including the legal authorities. The terror that Khadir had to relive suggests that the 'people were the energy of the war' as be puts it: that it was the ordinary people (both citizens and soldiers at the lower levels) who were 'fed' to the war. The Halabja Committee has, therefore, not only testified for the Iraqi citizens, but also for the ordinary Iranian soldiers who were attacked with Iraqi poisonous gases. …
Read full abstract