genocide Archives – ITSS Verona

March 27, 2024 — No Comments

The 30th anniversary of the Rwandan genocide*: the role of transitional justice and humanitarian assistance in the aftermath

Authors: Agostino Bono, Camilla Cormegna, Ilas Touazi, Shams Jouve, Sophie Herzog Sønju - Crime, Terrorism, Extremism Team in collaboration with the Africa Team*

*Resolution 955 (1994) / adopted by the Security Council at its 3453rd meeting, on 8 November 1994. https://digitallibrary.un.org/record/198038?ln=es&v=pdf#files

Introduction

April 7, 2024, marks the 30th anniversary of the Rwandan genocide, 100 days during which Tutsi and moderate Hutu were murdered by Hutu supported by government authorities. In the aftermath of the genocide, the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) faced significant challenges in terms of reconciliation and rebuilding the country, implementing a judicial system based on transitional justice. Transitional justice addresses widespread human rights violations in post-conflict contexts, acknowledging victims, fostering peace, reconciliation, and democracy.

In another ITSS article, the Russia Team discusses the role of transitional justice in post-conflict Ukraine. This article explores the post-genocide Rwanda’s search for justice and reconciliation through the judicial process, arguing that a holistic view of transitional justice is needed and both the objectives of peacemaking and justice, restorative and retributive tools, must be balanced to ensure a sense of sustainable peace. Rwanda also represents a turning point in the post-conflict agenda: as UN peacekeepers failed to prevent the genocide, post-conflict resolution approaches shifted from humanitarian interventions to the responsibility to protect, where the UNSC authorises military intervention in the event of ethnic cleansing and civil war. The transformation of humanitarian intervention approaches is described after presenting a historical overview of the Rwandan genocide. The article then evaluates transitional justice methods, including the ICTR, and local and gacaca courts. Lastly, it compares Rwanda and South Africa's use of traditional methods in the reconciliation process.

The roots of the Rwandan conflict: A historical overview

The Rwandan society has been always divided along ethnic lines between the Tutsi, the Hutu and the Twa. Since the 1800s, backed by the Belgian colonisers, the Tutsi were the dominant ethnic group. The concentration of power in the hands of the Tutsi exacerbated inter-ethnic tensions and led to the 1959 social revolution, which resulted in the abolition of the Tutsi monarchy and the expulsion of hundreds of thousands of Tutsi to neighbouring countries. The post-colonial governments of Gregoire Kayibanda (1960-1973) and Juvénal Habyarimana (1973-1994) discriminated against the Tutsi and were characterised by corruption as well as power struggles within ethnicities. Their domestic policy intensified in October 1990. During that month, the return from Uganda of the Rwandan Patriotic Force (RPF), a contingent of special forces, sparked a civil war with the Rwandan Armed Forces (RAF) of President Habyarimana who accused the Tutsi of the increasing Hutu’s social grievances and sufferings. Concomitantly, powerful Hutu from the Akuzu tribe, gave logistic and material support as well as training to the anti-Tutsi front.

The Arusha Peace Treaty in June 1992 put an end to two years of belligerence between the RAF and the RPF and established a power-sharing agreement between the parties in conflict. However, the instability continued throughout the country also because of the Hutu’s propaganda against the Tutsi at the national and local levels. Therefore, despite all the efforts, the civil war lasted until 1994 with a final toll of about 10,000 deaths. A significant example of the bilateral aggression took place on 6 April, 1994. Following negotiations with the RPF in Arusha, Tanzania, the aircraft carrying President Habyarimana and Burundian President Ntaryamira was shot down by unknown attackers. Their killings ignited the Rwandan genocide, which was fuelled by the Hutu political elite who accused the RPF of the murders. In their killing spree, they massacred Tutsi as well as moderate Hutu opponents.

The United Nations Assistance Mission to Rwanda failed to stop the genocide as well as to join efforts with the RPF. This resulted in the unilateral reaction of the RPF which spread throughout the country, finally managing to put an end to the massacre in July 1994. Overall, between 6 April and 19 July 1994, approximately 800,000 ethnic Tutsi, Twa and Hutu were killed for the sake of “cleansing the nation”.

The Rwandan genocide: between humanitarian intervention approach and post-conflict reconstruction (PCR)

The emergence of ethnic, religious, tribal, and civil wars, particularly in Rwanda, reshaped the Security Council's priorities from maintaining international peace to stopping the massacres and ensuring the free distribution of humanitarian aid, then providing armed support for the relief effort and authorising multinational military intervention to stop the genocide and crimes against humanity. However, the UN's post-Cold War activities, particularly in Iraq, Bosnia-Herzegovina, and then Rwanda, have been characterised by humanitarian operations that are increasingly militarised and described as “military humanitarianism.” While contemporary international law does not grant humanitarian intervention the same exceptional status as the right to self-defence. In this vein, the acceptance of a right to judicial interference was sown with pitfalls precisely by Rwanda, which refused to adopt the statute of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR) in 1994. Yet, it is a question of interference in the service of peace and justice, constituting a leap from the right to interfere to the doctrine of the responsibility to protect (R2P) and prevent genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing, and crimes against humanity.

In the post-Cold War globalised world, a “post-conflict reconstruction approach” (PCR) has arisen to prevent systematic human rights violations that offers reparation to victims and strengthens conflict resolution and peacebuilding. In that respect, Rwanda stands as a major case on the emerging post-conflict agenda. Consequently, the change in the nature of humanitarian intervention from traditional approaches to new dimensions was implemented in the Rwandan theatre, which initially focused on the classic peacekeeping operation with the United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda UNAMIR, decided by resolution 872 (1993) of 5 October 1993. Faced with the United Nations' inability to manage the Rwandan crisis through its action, described as humanitarian assistance, the French-led “Operation Turquoise”, followed by “Operation Support Hope”, was described as founding a right to interfere. That’s why the “PCR” process in Rwanda to solve genocide issues and trauma has been shaped innovatively to achieve sustainable peace recovery and promote reconciliation due to holistic planned coordination among different policy interventions and stakeholders in the context of security, political governance, socio- economic development, gender, and justice. Meanwhile, PCR was enhanced by mechanisms of coordination in the transition to peace, namely the Rwandan government (GoR), as well as the administration of justice and conflict prevention under a window of sustainable consensus reconstruction among the formal and transitional informal justice systems (IJS).

*Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Darwinek - "Flag-map of Rwanda" - This picture is an excerpt of the original /https://shorturl.at/JXZ34*

ICTR, the local courts and their limitations

The exceptionality of the genocide in Rwanda was the public mass participation, and so the retributive justice process became increasingly difficult. The need to implement an international criminal tribunal became essential for convicting those utmost accountable. The ICTR, or the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, was created as of the UN Resolution 955, which stated that its aim was “prosecuting persons responsible for genocide and other serious violations of International Humanitarian Law committed in the territory of Rwanda”. In total, 93 people were indicted by the ICTR. Of them were 62 sentenced, 14 were acquitted, 10 were referred to local courts, and the rest either died, escaped, or had their charges withdrawn. The ICTR was historical as it was the first time “an international tribunal delivered verdicts against people responsible for committing genocide”, with their sentences ranging from 2 years to life imprisonment. Those not indicted by the ICTR were indicted by the national court system. Towards the mid 2010s, around 10000 people were tried in relation to the genocide, potentially facing the death penalty. The difference in punishment, as well as the varying judicial process, came to be a large problem for the reconciliation of the Rwandan state. Although the ICTR was successful in creating some sense of fairness and victor-mentality for the remainder of functional society, the UN resolution and the tribunal itself had clear limitations through their retributive aims. Retributive justice can be defended from a logical perspective as something that can be justified in terms of utility, but not in terms of fairness. From a moral perspective, it can be justified in terms of fairness, but not utility. In Rwanda, the retributive justice process through ICTR convicted those most in charge of the genocide, without determining the morality of the crimes beyond the basis of international law, not addressing the root issue which ultimately caused neighbours to kill their neighbours. There was no need for the convicted in either court to express remorse or wish to reform, and so a retributive justice process did arguably limit the reconciliation process of the state after the genocide.

Gacaca courts: balancing accountability and reconciliation

To provide alternative solutions for dealing with the perpetrators of the genocide while promoting peace, in 2002 the Rwandan government established the gacaca courts, which combined elements of retributive and restorative justice. In 2012, gacaca came to an end, having tried more than 1.9 million suspects, involving over 170,000 judges. Gacaca were customary local courts traditionally led by elders and public figures to solve local disputes. The new gacaca retained some characteristics of the original model but now judges had the power of sentencing while the existence of a forum of community members allowed victims to voice their suffering. Significant value was also placed on the acknowledgement of guilt, shame and regret by the accused: the offender’s confession about the atrocities committed would reduce sentences in favour of community service. According to Pugh and Rwanda’s leaders, community involvement to address crimes and truth-telling succeeded in achieving accountability more efficiently compared to state-controlled mechanisms while fostering reconciliation. Not only did many perpetrators appear remorseful and apologised to their victims by giving them truth and closure about a tough past, but since gacaca was rooted in tradition, the Rwandan society managed to reclaim a cultural heritage nearly lost during colonisation. In turn, gacaca helped the healing of a country torn apart by an ethnopolitical conflict by reintegrating citizens not as Hutu or Tutsi but as Rwandan nationals.

However, numerous criticisms have been levelled against the gacaca system. Apart from a lack of due process, one of the key issues revolved around the legitimacy of judges. Many people elected as judges were later recognised as having taken part in the genocide, compromising their integrity and accountability, ultimately undermining the justice system. Thomson also contends that gacaca courts were a state-driven legal system devised to exert control by collectively assigning guilt to the Hutu population, categorising them as perpetrators, while politicising the victimhood of the Tutsi community. The RPF leadership failed to prosecute Tutsi forces who committed atrocities against Hutus, de facto failing to deliver true justice. Overall, notwithstanding these criticisms, gacaca proved to be an important restorative tool in the reconciliation process, highlighting the importance of a holistic approach to transitional justice that incorporates both retributive and restorative measures.

Assessing cultural tools for reconciliation in Rwanda and South Africa

We observe a particularly efficient use of holistic, home-based approaches to post-conflict reconstruction in Africa from 1995. Rwanda and South Africa have both succeeded in introducing solutions grounded on traditional mechanisms for reconciliation.

The South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) was established to investigate human rights violations usually perpetrated by state institutions and the military during the apartheid. Similarly to Rwandan solutions, it aimed at strengthening peace by reestablishing trust within the South African society, while avoiding direct violence and rebuilding the country. This last point differs from Rwanda’s clear need for individual justice, each country adopted different forms of transitional justice mechanisms. The TRC emphasised on rebuilding the country politically, while Rwanda’s Gacaca courts favoured the settlement of revenge needs within the society.

Considered the ‘largest experiment in popular justice in modern history’ as well as a ‘unique [model] among judicial structures around the world’, the Gacaca allowed for faster trials and certainly eased ethnic tensions after the genocide by putting the society at the heart of reconciliation. Culturally adapted programmes focused on inclusiveness and dignity, therefore restoring a national identity. Levels of political reconciliation reached 90%, demonstrating the clear success of traditional tools for reconstructing Rwanda. In South Africa, the TRC received similar positive outcomes and particularly contributed to acknowledging abuses suffered by the victims.

However, cultural resources are not magical tools for reconciliation. Indeed, John Lederach evaluates the success of reconciliation through four constitutive elements: peace, truth, justice, and mercy. According to this model, ‘South Africa emphasised truth and mercy at the expense of justice, whereas Rwanda emphasised justice at the expense of mercy’.

The main issue raised by the gacaca courts being traditional tools is their disrespect of international legal standards. They failed to provide gender-sensitive justice or efficient reintegration means, and could definitely not accelerate the process of restitution and compensation of properties, nor erase the genocide’s psychological and physical damages.

In South Africa, the TRC was in charge of the problematic mission of ‘establishing truth’, forsaking individual reconciliation and focusing on political and national needs. The Commission did not address the many inequalities suffered by the black community following the apartheid, including increased levels of poverty, and therefore did not answer the population’s need for the whites to take responsibility and pay reparation.

Conclusion

It is clear that the tragedy of the genocide of the Tutsi in Rwanda in the 1990s marked the post-Cold War period, reflecting the reality of a country strongly characterized by political violence and community and ethnic tensions. But amid of this indelible trauma, the vital role of transitional justice and informal justice systems, with the dual involvement of local justice (Gacaca), and national and international courts (ICTR), emerged as a solution to this endemic crisis. However, this was reinforced by post-conflict reconstruction (PCR) approaches in response to genocide and crimes against humanity, but it also played a pivotal role in the peacebuilding architecture and conflict prevention management. Thus, the main lessons drawn from the Rwandan experience are essentially linked to respect for international humanitarian law and international human rights law, which must be at the centre of local government priorities, and post-modern internationalism above political divisions and double standards at the international level, while today there are various situations, particularly in Ukraine, where populations face risks of crimes under the responsibility to protect (R2P).

March 4, 2024 — No Comments

The current war in Sudan as an aftermath of inaction for the Human Crisis in Darfur

Author: Esther Brito - Human Security Team

Darfur is once again experiencing a terrible crisis that, according to many international experts and organisations, has all the characteristics to be considered as genocide - or perhaps, it has always been.

The country of Sudan has faced multiple severe episodes of war and what can be classified as genocide in its recent history; including the First Sudanese Civil War (1955 to 1972), the Second Sudanese Civil War (1983 to 2005), the 1990’s genocide in the Nuba Mountains, and the 2000’s escalation risk of genocide in Darfur – which has, arguably, seen a continuation at a lower intensity over the last two decades. More recently, in April 2023, violence erupted in the capital, Khartoum, and soon expanded throughout the country as the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) clashed with the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) paramilitary group.

The current escalation of violence can be directly traced to the impacts of the Second Sudanese Civil War and the subsequent non-resolution of the Darfur genocide. During the second civil war, while the central government in Khartoum was engaged in armed conflict with the Sudan People’s Liberation Army – a clash which would give way to the creation of the world’s newest state – a combined breakdown of fundamental aspects of human security and the cumulative displeasure with structural inequality would precipitate the war in Darfur. Mainly, the onset of violence in Darfur was triggered by: 1) disputes regarding land and resource use that became identified with ethnicity, further exacerbated by climate change; 2) perceptions of unequal political power and preferential access, and 3) the uncertainties driven by the nation’s ongoing civil war.

The Genocide in Darfur

As noted, the social cleavages affecting the conflict in Darfur are related to a complex opposition based on decaying access to vital resources and unequal power representation in the state. Indeed, tensions rose in tandem with national policies seen as supporting Arab dominance in the region, at the cost of agency and representation for black Africans. With the presence of Chadian rebels in Darfur throughout the 1970s and 1980s facilitating access to weapons for both local Arab and African groups, and the embracing of these rebels of Arab supremacist ideology, perceptions of mutual risk increased progressively. This social suspicion was both often the result of and reinforced by local resource competition and tensions derived from scarcity. In fact, Darfur has been referred to as the “first climate change conflict”.

These points of contention exploded in 2003, when two Darfuri rebel groups – the Sudan Liberation Movement (SLM) and the Justice and Equality Movement (JEM) – accused the central government of the marginalization and dispossession of non-Arab groups in Darfur; launching an attack against a government post in the region. Contending with the threat of a massive territorial secession in the South and fearing similar claims in the West, the Sudanese government funded and armed Arab local militia groups, known as the Janjaweed, as proxy forces to push back against the rebels and deter any further social support through the targeting of African groups in mass atrocities – including mass killings, torture, sexual violence, and mass displacement – as part of a scorched earth campaign. Estimates suggest that between 140,000 and 400,000 people were killed as a result. This instance would lead the International Criminal Court to sign an arrest warrant for President Omar al-Bashir in 2009 for crimes including genocide – a controversial response at the time as the first indictment of a sitting president.

Past the genocide’s peak, the dynamics and actors built up during the initial war in Darfur have served to drive significant political developments in Sudan – such as the 2019 coup that deposed al-Bashir, the 2021 coup that ended civilian governance, and notably the renewed violence in 2023. This situates both the 2003 and 2023 conflicts as inherently interrelated, demanding aligned analysis and responses.

Source: *Wikimedia Commons* - *https://www.securityoutlines.cz/wp-content/uploads/cHJpdmF0ZS9sci9pbWFnZXMvd2Vic2l0ZS8yMDIyLTA0L2ZsODA0OTk3MTUxNi1pbWFnZS1rcHFvaDZuby5qcGc.jpg-1.webp*

The role of non-resolution and what might follow

While the intensity of the violence in Darfur lessened under international pressure in 2005 and with the entry of UNMIS until 2011, the genocide did not truly end – with continued forms of both direct and structural targeting, and the maintenance of a situation of ethnically defined mass displacement for two decades. This semi-permanent mass displacement not only endures today, but has continued to worsen as a result of the recent escalation.

It is the lack of comprehensive accountability for the genocide, as well as the non-transformation of power structures and drivers of conflict, that has led directly into the current war. In fact, the RSF formally emerged in 2013 from the consolidation and reorganization of Janjaweed militias, for the purpose of more effectively continuing repression operations and mass violence in Darfur. The 2023 eruption of violence in the capital was triggered due to disagreements between the SAF and the RSF, which had priorly been aligned in their operations in Darfur, and further orchestrated both the 2019 and 2021 coups. As such, the actors, power relationships, and immunity that defined the genocide in Darfur have become the core triggers of the current war, which has not only affected the capital and its surrounding areas, but heightened the intensity of genocide in Darfur as well.

At the moment, a number of potential scenarios can lead to the further escalation of the Sudanese conflict. Among them, perhaps the most prominent are the following: 1) the entry of international backers into the conflict, either directly or indirectly; 2) the establishment of only partial negotiations with a focus on Khartoum – thus excluding Darfur –; and 3) the further regression of international aid and attention, favoring further atrocities or another iteration of unresolved stalemates – which leave those displaced in a state of extreme vulnerability, enabling further cycles of communal violence. Given that Sudan shares borders with South Sudan, Egypt, Libya, Chad, the Central African Republic, Ethiopia and Eritrea, the potential for spillover risks exacerbating or even precipitating a number of regional conflicts cannot be overstated.

However, there are also windows of opportunity for conflict mitigation. The death of RSF leader Mohamad Hamdan “Hemedti” Dagalo could lead to an organizational breakdown within the group, making it more likely to put down its weapons in favor of amnesty and a renewed integration process into the SAF. Another possible avenue can come from the involvement of regional institutions, such as the African Union (AU). While AU engagement has not traditionally been well received by the government of Sudan, there is a potential for entry in helping to manage the growing refugee crisis that can then be expanded into a role in negotiation and DDR across the country. This is of course dependent on a significant level of international aid and institutional commitment from the AU, as well as a change in positioning from the SAF, which would need to be motivated by the inability of the government to navigate the mass displacement that has followed the violence both nationally and in Darfur. Given that this latest episode has led 3.8 million people to flee, with around 7.1 million people now being internally displaced, this may be a necessary concession from the SAF – particularly as humanitarian needs continue to rise exponentially, with 24.7 million people currently in urgent need of humanitarian assistance and protection. However, this will not be an easy endeavor, as there has been a cessation of relief operations in parts of the country – including areas in West Darfur – as a result of targeted attacks on humanitarian aid workers and property.

The cost of avoidance

The current conflict in Sudan is a result in great part of the lack of attention and resolution afforded to the war and genocide in Darfur. The RSF is a direct consequence of the Janjaweed’s impunity, and as the situation deteriorates, we are at risk of once again seeing the international community settle for only a cosmetic resolution of the hostilities in Khartoum and a continuation of the attritional genocide in Darfur. The genocide convention explicitly notes that in the absence of prevention and prosecution of genocidal violence, further war will follow. What we see in Sudan is the physical manifestation of that warning; where international response waned as atrocities became more low-intensity and institutionalized in nature, failing to address the continued targeting of Darfuri civilians and the parallel strengthening of the RSF into what it is now. Currently, as atrocities increase in intensity again – to a scale comparable to the beginnings of the last-high intensity campaign in Darfur – it is important that patterns of conflict resolution follow a different trajectory.

The views and opinions expressed are exclusively those of the author or authors and do not necessarily reflect those of the association.

December 3, 2021 — No Comments

The legacy of Canadian Residential Schools: the Indigenous Rights Movement and its current Challenges

By: Esther Brito Ruiz, Ludovica Brambilla, Arslan Sheikh and Reka Szabo.

*Image Source*: https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/saskatchewan/ashamed-my-faith-catholics-battling-religion-discovery-1.6081426

Recently, unmarked graves of hundreds of Indigenous children were discovered in various locations in Western Canada, in the territory of residential schools. These schools operated between the end of the 19th century until 1996, and were mostly run by the Catholic Church. The official number of Indigenous children who died in these schools because of mistreatment is 4120, but it is claimed that the actual number could be much larger.

Evidence from various studies prove that approximately 150,000 indigenous children were subject to forceful assimilation in these institutions, after having been separated from their families. Physical, psychological, and sexual abuse were among the practicesused in these schools. The high death rate of Indigenous students can be connected to the extremely bad conditions of the schools— such as poor nutrition, the lack of nurses or the inadequate construction or use of the buildings — and to the lack of proper medical treatment provided to indigenous children, among other inhuman practices. The leading cause of death was tuberculosis, easily caught by malnourished children.

The practices of the residential schools have been described as a genocide by several scholars. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission, after having examined testimonies from thousands of survivors, also announced that these acts are to be classified as cultural genocide against Indigenous people.

After the discovery of the graves, Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau guaranteed financial aid and support to the Indigenous communities in Canada. Furthermore, an initiative of the Survivors of the Mohawk Institute at Six Nations of the Grand River — a large reserve in Canada — aimed at uncovering more details about the dark legacy of the schools’ past with a death and criminal investigation. Questions still remain about the responsibility, the accountability, and the compensation, regarding the Canadian state and the Catholic Church.

However, the discrimination of indigenous communties in Canadais not solely a past phenomenon - according to some studies ongendered violence and on the unequal treatment of indigenous people in Canada, Indigenous minorities still face a very different set of circumstances compared to the majority society. We must also consider that the controversy surrounding the Canadian case is not a localized issue, but the latest in a global movement of recognition and redress led by indigenous communities.

The Global Context for Indigenous Rights

Currently, there are 370 million Indigenous people around the world, spanning over 90 countries, 5,000 communities, and 4,000 languages. As such, the struggle of the indigenous movement is not an ancient issue, but a current and contemporary human security challenge. While there has been progress – most notably marked by the 2007 United Nations’ Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (ratified by 143 countries) – indigenous abuses are still erased and forgotten, as we have mentioned in the case of Canadian residential schools.

The legacy of indigenous communities has been marked by a rich history and vital contributions to our culture and environment (for example, in safeguarding 80% of global biodiversity) – however, it has also been defined by horrific atrocities. Well-known is the case of Native American communities, numbering over 10 million before European colonization, and decimated to under 300.000 by the 1900s. Indigenous peoples continue to face continuous and pervasive human rights abuses – ranging from assimilation policies, to land dispossession, the criminalization of protest, or abuses by armed forces. These abuses extend globally – having worsened in recent years and in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic – and most severely affect communities defending their rights and lands. This has led to intergenerational trauma in many indigenous communities. Today, the most prominent topic in discussions and advocacy within indigenous communities remains the issue of land rights and the resources they harbor.

*Image Source*: https://www.flickr.com/photos/mobili/32358569142

Indigenous Peoples and Natural Resources

Indigenous Peoples have a special relationship with natural resources. But from the times of colonisation to the present day, theirrights over these resources have been continuously violated. Even though they make up five-percent of the world’s population, they account for about fifteen-percent of the extreme poor. The major cause of this discrepancy owes to the history of colonisation, subjugation, and oppression. They regularly lack formal recognition over their lands and other natural resources, and are often last to get public investments, access to justice, political participation, and face various obstacles to partake in the formal economy.

Around a quarter of all land outside Antarctica belongs to Indigenous Peoples. But much of this land occupied by them is undercustomary ownership, and most of the governments all over the world acknowledge only a small percentage of this land as lawfully belonging to Indigenous Peoples. The unstable land tenancy is a cause of conflict, environmental degradation, and inadequate economic and social development. This endangers Indigenous Peoples’ culture and knowledge systems both of which have an extremely valuable contribution in maintaining ecological integrity and conserving nature and biodiversity.

As per World Bank, ‘’Improving security of land tenure, strengthening governance, promoting public investments in quality and culturally appropriate service provision, and supporting indigenous systems for resilience livelihoods are critical to reducing the multidimensional aspects of poverty while contributing to the SDGs.’’

The crucial role of social movements

It appears that legal frameworks for the protection of Indigenous People’s rights have been established, but land rights are not yet addressed by state actors and international organizations. Often, aboriginal communities lament a pattern of broken promises and a series of failures within development projects that have been promoted by such actors. This is due in part to the difficulty in questioning the power relations within the structure in which they operate. What is also elided by the mainstream narrative, are the continuities between the colonial past and the present. A postcolonial perspective on the matter has been proposed by many indigenous scholars that investigate colonial legacies to explain the nowadays imbalances between indigenous people and the broader society. Inequities are evident in regard to the land and resources issues but encompass almost every aspect of society, most notably healthcare. A postcolonial approach has been put into practice by many social movements, activists, and advocates for Indigenous People’s rights. Protests and movements, like Idle No More in Canada, emerge from the aboriginal communities and amplify their voices in the many arenas in which decisions are made. They represent the opportunity to contrast the structural violence they face, through ‘grassroots’ discourses around their conditions and demands and cooperations with governments and international actors. In response to the recent discovery of yet another atrocity committed in the residential ‘schools’, Idle No More has asked to cancel Canada Day to ultimately acknowledge the legacy of settler colonialism and violence in Canada’s history; Fifty municipalities have accepted the proposal out of respect and justice.

The Canadian case serves to illustrate what remains an evolving redress and human rights struggle for indigenous communities around the world. Indigenous human security continues to be precarious in most states, and despite the increasing recognition of these transnational advocacy movements, much remains to be done. As states seek to fulfil their obligations to ensure the wellbeing of their communities, a renewed focus must be placed on the recognition of indigenous peoples and their voices as rightful custodians of their land, resources, and culture. If the promises of a post-colonial global order are to be realized, it is indigenous communities that will define and lead the way to achieving it.