HOW DO YOU "DEMOBILIZE" THE MINDS?

Although many scholars describe reconcili­ation as a succession of stages, this section does not talk about the issue in terms of strict sequence. The process of reconciliation is not a linear one.

Reconciliation as a historical possibility

The Franco-German case is fascinating because it makes it possible to examine a process of interstate rapprochement from a long perspective. The South African case enlightens an internal reconciliation process that results from a negotiation between the main parties in presence, and not a military victory of one of them (as is the case after World War II). The two cases show that the motives for reconciliation can be both pragmatic and moral. They also reveal that the outcomes of the so-called reconciliation process could be questioned in many ways.

The Franco-German case

The process undergone by France and Germany since the end of World War II demonstrates that “yesterday’s hereditary enemies” may become “determined friends” (de Gaulle, 1970: 428-9). For more than a century and a half, the incessant reminder of past confrontations created entrenched positions on either side of the Rhine. These perceptions gave rise to belligerent discourses calling for the crushing of the ancestral enemy. However, in the immediate post­war years, French and German politicians and private citizens deliberately sought to influence the public opinion to support a process of reconciliation between the two countries.

Between 1958 and 1962, de Gaulle and Adenauer undertook considerable efforts to persuade the public of the necessity of a Franco-German rapprochement. They carried out frequent trips on both sides of the Rhine to help their populations overcome preconceived ideas and fears rooted in past events. As a result, this process progressively affected all levels of society.

Since the Elysee Treaty, the authorities of the two states have systematically tried to avoid being locked into memories that are strictly national. They recognized that national perceptions overlap and have to be considered as mutually dependent. The purpose was to develop a “common language” capable of encompassing the two nations’ conflict-ridden past. Former French Prime Minister Lionel Jospin summed up this process: memory should be considered not as “a way to awaken ancient sufferings” but as “a tool allowing people to make peace with the past, without forgetting previous wounds” (1999). Such a method implies a more complex approach to otherness. Leaders of both sides no longer describe the two nations as possessing identities that are totally heterogeneous and independent. Instead, they depict them as peoples who are bound together by links derived from history and who have committed actions causing mutual wounds. The purpose is not to impose a vision about past and present realities. It is rather to iron out the conditions for the “cohabitation” of diverging experiences.

The official meaning given to the battle of Verdun is an outstanding example of this kind of transformation. The number of victims - a quarter of a million young soldiers - added to the ruthless nature of the combats created fearful remembrances in the consciences on both territories. As early as 1916, a patriotic representation of the combats was being elaborated, separately, in France and in Germany. On the French side, Verdun witnessed the glory, the heroism and the victorious spirit of the French combatants. On the other side of the Rhine, it was quickly recovered by the national-socialist ideology. Four decades later, the Franco- German rapprochement paved the way for a new interpretation to be given to this event. Verdun became a symbol with a similar mean­ing to all combatants - French and Germans. The memories were not presented any longer as national and separate. They were rather unified as a result of the reconciliation which had occurred: the soldiers which combated in the opposite camps were then gathered in a common tribute. This reinterpretation was given a symbolic expression when Franςois Mitterrand and Helmut Kohl stood hand in hand in front of the Ossuary of Douaumont (France).

The effort which is realized to integrate national memories does not imply that events will be given a uniform representation on both sides in the future. Integration does not bring about plurality to be set aside. In fact, it supposes that a form of disagreement may be accepted to a certain extent. One may speak, in that regard, of a reasonable disagreement, which appears to be admitted by the parties (Dwyer, 1999; Schapp, 2005). In that sense, what is often called a “work of memory” remains a process concerning memories - that concept being then used in a plural form. Yet such an evolution does not develop directly and spontaneously, but only emerges gradually and painstakingly. The work of memory that has been undertaken by French and German authorities takes root in deep divergences.

The South African case

The negotiations that made possible the tran­sition from apartheid were based explicitly on the need to acknowledge “gray zones” that occurred in the past. In 1995, the preamble to the new South African Constitution opened with a striking statement of this sensibility. It rejected retribution and called for past injustices to be addressed “on the basis that there is a need for understanding but not for vengeance, a need for reparation but not for retaliation”. To do so, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) was set up by the South African parliament. Its objective was to investigate human rights violations during the apartheid era between 1960 and 1994. Anglican Archbishop Desmond Tutu chaired the 17-member body. Aside from its frequently described shortcomings, the TRC had at least one merit. It opened the floor to victims of each side and gave them a chance to tell their story. The hope was that the process of talking would somehow alleviate the sufferings endured in silence for so long. As President Nelson Mandela said, “South African people must remember their dreadful past in order to be able to deal with it, to forgive when it is necessary, but never to forget” (Mandela, 1999).

To turn the page of apartheid, a deliberate link was made between the proceedings of the TRC and the granting of amnesty. In order to obtain amnesty, an offender had to apply to the TRC, participate in its hearings, and meet with its requirements, including the requirement of full disclosure. This restorative justice aimed at achieving the healing and restoration of all concerned - of victims in the first place, but also of offenders, their families and the larger community (van Ness, 1993: 259). The ultimate purpose of this initiative was not to punish offenders, but to reintegrate them into the community and to repair damaged communal bonds (Tutu, 2000: 59-60).

Nevertheless, it would be naive to be too optimistic regarding these objectives. The TRC was above all shaped by political constraints and more particularly by the balance of power between the parties. The issue of amnesty for human rights offenders was decided by a political deal between the outgoing political elite (the National Party) and the African National Congress (ANC). In other words, the TRC was a compromise solution forced on the country by the fact that those who had power were not going to surrender it without guarantees that they would not be prosecuted after stepping down. This background is typical of a general pattern. As Wilson has shown, the area of justice in transition is the one in which leaders are most likely to reach a deal over the heads of ordinary people, and ipso facto the one in which civil groups are usually the least effective in shaping the course of the talks (2001: 198-200). However, in South Africa, human rights organizations played a certain role once the political settlement was struck between the two main political parties.

They did a great deal of lobbying between the passage of the interim constitution and the National Unity and Reconciliation Act in 1995. Consequently, they prevented a blanket amnesty and had a significant impact in framing the terms of the commission.

At the end of the day, the TRC faced criticisms and led to controversies and disputes. The fundamental objection was that it has sacrificed the rights of victims and survivors and their legitimate need for justice. The pretended healing effect of the TRC indeed varied considerably from one set of victims to another. To cite an example, Churchill Mxenge, the brother of an assassinated activist, Griffiths Mxenge, objected: “Unless justice is done, it's difficult for any person to think of forgiving” (quoted by Rosenberg, 1996: 88). This statement recalls that the national process of moving forward and making amends rarely coincides with individual processes. On a purely psychological level, for a survivor to react in an overly forgiving way toward perpetrators, or to simply let bygones be bygones, is highly improbable in the short term. Yet, for all its obvious imperfections, the TRC performs the crucial task of acknowledgement of the victim's loss.

In 2003, the TRC issued its final report and warned against any granting of blanket amnesty for perpetrators, arguing that it would “undermine the commission's work”. The report also recommended that $348 million in reparations be paid to more than 21,000 victims of apartheid, urging businesses to contribute along with the government. Nowadays, thousands of people are still waiting for reparations. Continuing disparities in wealth, housing, education, and health between blacks and whites indicate that the process of reconciliation still involves a lot of hard work. In the long run, the challenge is immense since it is to create a society within which the chances of the recurrence of the kinds of gross violations of human rights that occurred in the past are reduced to a minimum. Nonetheless, the disintegration of the South African state through racial conflict is unlikely in the foreseeable future.

Reconciliation as a set of patterns

These examples are rich but they cannot be transformed in a model that could be generalized to other cases. To demonstrate it, let us stress one characteristic of the two chosen cases: the nearly universal condem­nation of the Nazi regime and of the apartheid regime. This crucial element is indeed far from being common. In most of the cases, one of the main resistances to launch a reconciliation process lies in the extreme difficulty associated with deciding who the perpetrators and the victims were. This specific feature shows the inappropriateness of any normative model in that matter. Having said that, we cannot deny that there are common experiences that people go through across different contexts if they are involved in violent conflict. From that viewpoint, three main questions can be taken into account to understand how former adversaries try to restore a clear line between the past and the future: how (a), who (b) and when (c).

(a) How? A triple process of reassessment

In a reflection on coexistence after a violent past, Michael Ignatieff distinguishes two meanings of reconciliation: it can firstly be seen as an emotional meeting of hearts and minds, while, in a much more political sense, it means “accepting the world as it actually is, instead of fighting or opposing it” (Ignatieff, 2003: 326). Since the purpose of this chapter is to focus on political - and not individual - reconciliation, this second meaning merits to be taken into deeper consideration. How do you understand this process of “accepting the world as it is”? With which reality (which realities) should one be reconciled? In his analysis, partly based on the South African case, Ignatieff gives the two following examples: for many whites, to be reconciled meant acknowledging the majority rule while for many black victims, it meant accepting the fact that their individual desire for revenge would never be achieved.

Beyond these examples, we can consider that this process of acceptance basically implies a triple form of reassessment: reassessment of the representation that each party has about the other; reassessment of the self-image; reassessment of the common past.

"Reframing" the other and self-reflection. In deep-rooted, protracted conflicts, nearly institutionalized images of the enemy prevail and dominate perceptions. The other side is frequently described as having evil intentions, low morality and inferior traits. Negation of the other as human being becomes a central element of each party's identity. A sense of mutual vulnerability leads indeed each side to fear that by recognizing the other's identity, it is denying its own. As Kelman has noted, “each side seems concerned, then - perhaps at an unconscious level - that acceptance of the other's nationhood would undermine the moral basis of its own claims. In sum, fulfilment of the other's national identity is perceived by each side as equivalent to the destruction of its own identity. Thus, neither side can be expected to make a move to accept the other unless and until it develops a sense of assurance that its own existence is secure” (1978: 170-171). Moreover, as long as the other is demonized, each party can avoid seeing itself in the role of victimizer (Kelman, 1999).

Accordingly, it is not surprising that the recognition of the rival does not occur in the twinkling of an eye. As long as losses have not been mourned, groups are unable to alter their positions and to develop the kind of empathy that many see as necessary for settling bitter conflicts (White, 1984; Volkan, 1988; Halpern and Weinstein, 2004). The consideration of the other as he is, and not any longer as one would like him to be, requires both a change of attitudes - from backward-looking attitudes to forward­looking attitudes (Zartman and Kremenyuk, 2005) - and a change of perceptions that are only conceivable when coexistence appears to be an absolute necessity for each party. In this condition, the impact of a dehumanization of the enemy can only be gradually mitigated by the pursuit of common goals and the estab­lishment of personal relationships between parties. Such a structural and relational transformation tends to enrich the image of the other in personalizing the members of the rival group, in separating the wrongdoer from the wrong which has been committed and - when it is appropriate - in perceiving the former enemy as a victim of the conflict as well (Bar-Tal, 2000).

In an ultimate phase, reconciliation reflects a shift in attention from blaming the other to taking responsibility for its own attitudes. Though, the journey from a “victimhood psychology” (based on group memory of violent aggression and injustices in the past decades or even centuries) to the status of “actor” is long and demanding (Montville, 2001: 132). During the conflict, groups tend to view themselves in a one-sided way involving self-glorification and self-praise, ignoring any information that might shed negative light on the group. In acknowledging the past in its complexity, each party has the feeling that it could lead to a weak­ening of its core identity. Kelman shows that it is just the opposite: such a self­reflection actually implies a strengthening, rather than a weakening, of each party's identity (2004: 121).

Confronting history. Coming to terms with the past implies the reexamination of histori­cal narratives and the revaluation of national myths, on each side of the conflict. As Richard Jackson shows in his chapter on construc­tivism, discursive structures that underpin violence and conflict can be deconstructed - at least to some extent. However, the “recreation of the record of the past” (Zartman and Kremenyuk, 2005: 300) cannot be undertaken immediately upon the cessation of hostilities. Many case studies show that leaders firstly opted for partial amnesia. The early phases of the reconciliation process do indeed entail powerful resistances within the population. Therefore, some “willful ignorance” may seem appropriate (Bargal and Sivan 2004: 144). However, this choice does probably not put into question the need, in the long run, for coping directly with the past (Krondorfer, 1995).

At this stage, the question is probably not to wonder whether one should remember or forget, but how to remember and forget in order to move forward (Garton Ash, 2003: 415). In this respect, scholars generally agree that an adjustment regarding diverging interpretations of the past may function as a long-term confidence-building measure. For example, Tambiah (1986) suggests that peacemaking in Sri Lanka must involve the deconstruction of historical accounts of ethnic origins, differences, and traditions. This, he says, will permit the two communities of the country to understand better their many common experiences and not to limit their attention to those experiences that divide them. Similarly, Philipps (2001) asserts that in GermanZEast-Central European relations, official statements of mutual apologies have been central for reconciliation to take a public face. In the Balkans, the executive director of the Balkan Trust for Democracy in Belgrade, Ivan Vejvoda, asserts that “reconciliation cannot be achieved without a committed and sustained effort to shed as much light as possible” on the most uncom­fortable episodes of the past (Magarditsch, 2005: 172).

In this view, each party is supposed to take responsibility for thepast pain. Except in cases of radical asymmetry (such as genocides, mass killing or crimes against humanity), violent conflicts generally lead to grievances and victims on each side. Nonetheless, public acknowledgement of the crimes (by the perpetrators to the victims or surviving relatives; or by the representatives of the state in the name of which the crimes were committed) remains an immense challenge on the ground, the main difficulty being that each party usually perceives itself as the victim and the other side as being responsible to initiate the process of making accounts for past wrongdoings (Nadler, 2002). In spite of that, historical cases show that this situation of pluralistic, and even contradictory, visions of the past can progressively be overcome (Barsalou and Baxter, 2007).

As various analysts have pointed out, “reconciliatory events” (such as public cer­emonies between senior representatives from each side) can have a real impact on the rela­tions between former adversaries (Kelman, 1991; Volkan, 1998; Bargal and Sivan, 2004: 125). To prove it, scholars stress the rational, and not only emotive, dimensions of the process. From a game theoretical point of view, reconciliation events can be seen as costly signals that manifest the commitment for improving relations. This is particularly true when initiatives are costly, unexpected, unambiguous and made unilaterally (Long and Brecke, 2003: 21-22). This point can be illustrated by statements of Sadat during his visit to Jerusalem. Although it would be naive to overestimate the impact of Sadat's words on Israeli public opinion, it is likely that his explicit understanding of the suffering endured by the Jews throughout centuries had a real significance in the minds (Montville 2001: 137).

In the same line, symbolic gestures like formal or informal apology, visits to the location of atrocities, legal acts or any concrete step of compensation can constitute “turning points” in the interaction between former rivals. During the last decade, official representatives in several regions of the world have admitted responsibility for past discriminatory practices through a critical investigation into their national past. In the case of the Czech-German Declaration on Mutual Relations and Their Future Develop­ment, signed in January 1997, apologies were mutual. In this document, Germany accepted responsibility for the events of World War II and expressed regret for the sufferings and wrongs wrought against the Czech people. The Czech Republic expressed remorse for the sufferings and wrongs perpetrated against Germans expelled from the Sudetenland after the war.

This focus on the constructive impact of public acknowledgement of the past has to be nuanced by recent studies showing that, in the absence of a basic level of trust between parties, adversary's acknowledgement and even apologies are generally discounted as manipulative action. In such circumstances, they have no positive effects on willing­ness for reconciliation. On the contrary, in situations characterized by a high level of distrust (which is the case after protracted conflicts), it may even lower this willingness (Nadler and Liviatan, 2006). Knowing that the process of trust-building between former enemies is long and challenging, one should avoid any euphoria in that matter. Michael Lund's chapter on conflict prevention and the reflection of Fen Hampson, Chester Crocker and Pamela Aall on enmity and intractability are revealing in this regard (see Chapters 15 and 25).

(b) Who? A bottom-up and top-down process

Some scholars depict reconciliation as a process taking fundamental place between populations (Bar-On, 1996). Others highlight above all the role of national political leadership in launching the process (Bargal and Sivan, 2004). A central element of the bottom-up versus top-down tension is the conception of groups. At the local level, groups are described in terms of networks of individuals, each individual being a key vehicle of change. Improved interpersonal relations among community members are seen as the primary area for reconciliation work. Home-grown and grassroots initiatives are viewed as the key to success. In contrast, the top-down approach examines groups in more abstract terms as being composed of categories of identity that derive from national political divisions. In this sense, national intervention must first take place to create the conditions within which local dynamics can change (Van der Merwe, 2003: 113).

Beyond this tension, case studies indicate that the reconciliation process may begin either with the leaders or the grass roots. To be effective, this process must proceed bottom- up and top-down simultaneously. In other words, reconciliation requires both a political and a public momentum. Without political support “from above”, the efforts of some individuals and/or groups will not be sufficient to influence the whole population and to give clear signals to the other party. Conversely, without the support of the population, official discourses and public ceremonies are sterile and vain. The success of the reconciliation process depends to a large extent on the dissemination of the ideas associated with it among the grass roots. At the top level, statements and speeches, but also symbolic acts to manifest the change of attitudes towards the former enemy are revealed to be crucial (Bargal and Sivan, 2004: 128­143). Similarly, middle-level leaders, such as prominent figures in ethnic, religious, economic, academic, intellectual, cultural or artistic circles, play an important role to initi­ate and implement policies of reconciliation. In the same way, local leaders, businessmen, educators and many others may adhere to or resist the reconciliation process (Lederach, 1998).

Aside from the linkages between unofficial and official processes, a very important factor lies in the personal past of the respective leaders. Things will go more smoothly if the rapprochement is advocated by a person who has accomplished heroic actions against the enemy with whom reconciliation is being sought. This person then asks the population to undergo a transformation that he has undergone himself - that is, to overcome resentment towards the former enemy. For instance, the historical legitimacy of Charles de Gaulle probably helped the French people to change their views about the Germans. A similar point can be made with respect to Nelson Mandela in South Africa. This point is fundamental since the outcome of the process depends above all on popular support. For, even if a rapprochement seems necessary to the representatives of each party, it cannot be imposed by decree. The author­ities can create a climate that encourages private steps towards reconciliation but they cannot force individual initiatives. At the most basic level, reconciliation is all about individuals.

In brief, the reconciliation process is sub­stantially “home grown” rather than imposed from outside or under the tutelage of a more powerful third party or organization. Third parties and nongovernmental organizations play critical roles in encouraging and support­ing each step of the process. But reconciliation cannot occur without the active efforts of each side's leaders and the support of the entire society or at least the majority of it.

(c) When? The ripeness question

One of the crucial issues to keep in mind is the ripeness question (Zartman, 2000): when is there any protagonist ripe to risk reconciliation efforts? Case studies indicate how essential time is where the objective is to change an adversarial relationship. Some events, particularly traumatic violations of human rights, can remain unexpressed for a period of time - a period that psychoanalysts often call “latent” (Weinrich 1999: 189). There does not appear to be any standard in this matter. However, one can reasonably think that the transformation of the representations that parties have of the other, of the past, and of themselves is an ongoing process that generally lasts for several generations. Such a process may not be imposed on a population that is still deeply hurt by stigmata of the past. As wounding often hinders any immediate rap­prochement, one can probably postulate the following proposition: the shorter the delay between the conflict and the reconciliation process, the sharper the resistance within the population.

Even in the Franco-German case, the time factor turns out to be decisive. In this regard, it is worthwhile to underline the gap between official and social processes concerning the past. Officially, French and German author­ities highlighted the necessity of facing the past a bit more than 10 years after the end of the war. Thus, they multiplied speeches, commemorations and symbolic gestures in order to take into consideration each other's past. By contrast, the systematic analysis of the activities organized in the broad field of education by the Deutsch-Franzosisches JugendwerkZOffice franco-allemand pour la Jeunesse from 1963 to 2001 shows that painful questions of the past were not openly addressed before the early 1990s (Delori, 2002). This research leads to the conclusion that, in the framework of exchange programs, diverging interpretations of the past among nationals of the two sides were mostly ignored.

In the South African case, timing is a key variable as well. One of the main shortcomings of the TRC was precisely that reconciliation in such a frame was a questionable goal. Individual reconciliation has indeed a different time scale from that of any commission. Individual healing is a process paced by its own inner timing which cannot be pushed or programmed. In a few years, truth commissions could only create the conditions in which reconciliation might eventually occur (Garton Ash, 2003: 416).Accordingly, although the reconciliation process does not have any formal beginning and ending, it seems appropriate to conceive it as a - at least - two-stage process as per the following: first, a peaceful coexistence for pragmatic reasons (common involvement in institutional and economic frames), and then afterwards a potential transformation of beliefs and identities.

Useful distinctions

In the literature, the concept of reconciliation is often linked with the notions of truth, justice and forgiveness. This way to look at the picture is easily understandable. Each historical case shows that, on the ground, these mechanisms are deeply interconnected. Yet, at a theoretical level, the analysis is likely to gain in clarity if these processes are distinguished. One could argue that truth, jus­tice and forgiveness greatly contribute to the establishment of a lasting peace. However, a linear correlation between these processes and reconciliation cannot simply be presumed. Therefore, we prefer not to consider them as preconditions of reconciliation (in the same way as, for instance, a security bargain that ensures safety on all sides). Hence, rather than encompassing the three notions under a very broad - and to some extent confusing - label of reconciliation, we suggest a deeper study of the articulation between them. To do so in a variety of contexts, more research drawing from a broad range of disciplines is needed. Let us simply shed light on some questions raised by these linkages.

(a) The need for justice

After a violent conflict, the expectations of victims in terms of justice are very high. Especially in horrendous situations like Rwanda, Yugoslavia, Cambodia and others, many consider that reconciliation is not appropriate because it is too soft on criminal conduct of offenders. According to many victims, there cannot be reconciliation without justice. In this respect, justice appears as one component of reconciliation (Kriesberg, 2004: 83). However, mutual relationship between justice and reconciliation can be disputed.

Actually, although frustrating for victims, incomplete justice sometimes appears as a practical necessity. In South Africa, for instance, the possibility of amnesty for apartheid killers directly resulted from the peace negotiation leading to the democratic transition. In Rwanda, to take another exam­ple, the prosecution of all the genocidaires was simply impossible. From April to July 1994, more than 800,000 people (Tutsis for the majority) were killed. One year later, the lack of staff and financial support was so striking that Rwandan authorities admitted that national courts would take more than a century to try all the suspects. In 2003, about 80,000 people accused of human rights crimes were packed into jail, often in insalubrious conditions, still waiting to come before the court. To face the concrete impossibility of any exemplar justice, various measures were taken: the liberation of 10,000 prisoners for health or age reasons, the increasing number of collective proceedings and the launching of a new version of a traditional conciliation procedure, called the gacaga system (Digneffe and Fierens, 2003). The Rwandan case illustrates a general question raised by Hannah Arendt: how do you exercise justice after crimes “that one can neither punish, nor forgive” (1961: 307)?

In order to cope with that issue, some scholars consider that the central question in reconciliation is not whether justice is done, but rather how one goes about doing it in ways that can also promote peaceful coexistence between parties (Assefa, n.d.; Evenson, 2004). To favour such delicate coexistence, they call for a “restorative justice” - as opposed to “retributive justice”. Whereas the aim of any criminal justice process is primarily to identify guilt and to administer the punishment required by the law, restorative justice tends to appease the bitterness and resentment that exist between the parties. To the partisans of this dynamic, the punishment of the offenders alone does not prevent them from continuing to hate the other side (Cobban, 2007). So, they seek to favour an environment where the offenders take the responsibility of acknowl­edging their offence and get motivated to change the relationship from destructive to constructive.

This focus on restorative justice shows the difficulty of defining the notion of justice. Does it encompass the whole range of ways to insure a “sense of justice”, from trials, purges, truth commissions, opening of archives to symbolic acts of expiation, memorials and institutional reform (Teitel, 2000)? In terms of distinctions, is it not useful to differentiate what Zartman calls a “backward-looking notion of justice” as retribution and strict reparation, and a “forward-looking notion of justice” aimed at establishing a new relationship on the basis of equal respect between parties? In this sense, justice does not only concern the way to compensate victims as much as possible, but also - and even more - the necessity to revise the system in which parties are in relations, so that injustices perpetuated in the past would no longer be possible in the future (Zartman and Kremenyuk, 2005: 294). Distinctions of that type could be multiplied. Beyond debates referring to this notion (see Chapter 30 by Cecilia Albin in this book), it seems that justice is required in the aftermath of conflict, but that it can hardly provide the only basis for reconciliation.

(b) The search for truth

The concepts of truth and reconciliation have become closely associated with the implementation of truth commissions around the world. Beside the prominent South African case, truth commissions were created in coun­tries as diverse as Croatia, Ghana, Morocco, Argentina, Nigeria, Central African Republic, Timor-Leste, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Peru, to name a few. In each of these cases, “truth­telling” processes emphasized reconciliation as a goal. The hope was that learning the truth would somehow convince citizens to put the past behind and move forward. The linkage between truth and reconciliation was so systematic that it has finally achieved the status of a “truism” (Borer, 2004: 21). Indeed, is there any evidence that truth is inherently a road to reconciliation?

So far, the thought that reconciliation requires truth is not plausible as a “general empirical rule” (Allen, 1999: 317). In this respect, the analysis of the South African case by James L. Gibson is telling. In a study dedicated to the TRC and its consequences on South African society, Gibson precisely focuses on the assertion that truth leads to reconciliation. Based on extensive surveys and social science analysis, his reflection concludes that the TRC did succeed in convincing a majority of South Africans that all sides were guilty of human rights violations and in turn suffered from violations. To him, this common interpretation of the apartheid era provides the basis for reconciliation. Nevertheless, it is striking that one of Gibson's measures of reconciliation, political tolerance, remains scarce in South African culture (2004).

Furthermore, even though some individ­ual victims report experiencing feelings of “catharsis”, a lot of them agree that feelings of anger and frustration have not diminished in the least. Given this ambivalent evidence, Allen asserts, “it is doubtful whether any general claims whatsoever can be made about the capacity of truth commissions to secure the claimed benefits, even for individuals” (Allen, 1999: 316).

Nobody can deny the fact that amnesia refuses victims the public acknowledgement of their pain and, therefore, can surely not contribute to reconciliation in the long run. Yet, in certain circumstances, the search for truth can be seen as undermining the fragile cooperation by holding on to the past instead of looking to the future. For that reason, the standard sequence of truth and reconciliation could be reversed. To illustrate it, Forsberg gives the example of the Finish civil war between reactionary Whites and revolutionary Reds in 1918 (2003: 74-75). United in 1939 against their common enemy, the Soviet Union, both parties waited more than one generation to know the truth about the civil war. This example shows that the parties involved in a process of reconciliation need to feel sufficiently secure before they can allow themselves to remember what shames them as well as what justifies them. And the achievement of such security may require a decade, a generation or even more, of silence.

In underlining the ambivalence of truth­telling processes (as a condition for reconcili­ation and as a potential impediment to achieve reconciliation), the purpose is neither to underevaluate the genuine need for knowing the truth of past violence, nor to suggest a relativistic view of the historical truth. It is to show that, even though seeking accuracy about the past and allowing victims to tell their stories are vital steps in the reconciliation process (Phelps, 2004), truth in itself does not bring reconciliation.

Once again, a major difficulty is the polysemic character of truth. A variety of meanings can be attributed to this notion, namely factual truth (searched by historians), personal truth (on the basis of each person's subjective experience), or even official truth (chosen narrative of the past). Regarding the process of rapprochement between former adversaries, the acknowledgement of the facts by all sides is as important as the revealing of the past (and probably even more so). The clarification of contested historical events is a decisive step toward changing the relationship between protagonists. However, facts alone do not lead to the establishment of a shared vision. Yet, interpretation that the facts are given is one of the critical elements of any conflict resolution (Forsberg, 2003: 73). In this regard, subjective views of the past do not necessarily undermine the search for “truth”. Intersubjective truth can only emerge if different accounts of the past are allowed to exist. That perspective does not lead to a relativistic stance that all the diverging, and sometimes contradictory, narratives of the same past are equally valid. Admittedly, events cannot be erased. One cannot undo what has been done, or pretend that what happened never occurred. However, the meaning that is attributed to past events is never fixed once and for all (Ricoeur, 2000: 496).After an international or intercommunity conflict, as it has been showed in the Franco- German case, it would be naive to expect the establishment of a single, shared “truth”. As Garton Ash notes, the purpose is not to have a single agreed version of the past, but to achieve “an agreed description of the basic factual landscape of the past” that could constitute the “factual framework within which the vital healthy and unending battle of interpretations must go on” (2003: 416-417).

(c) A contested forgiveness?

According to some scholars, the degree to which truth commissions contribute to long-term reconciliation is partly determined by whether perpetrators or state officials acknowledge and apologize for wrongs (Hayner, 2001: 252). That assertion leads to the examination of a third and last notion: forgiveness. In South Africa, the advocates of restorative justice emphasized a quasi-transcendental view of reconciliation ideally based on a perpetrator's repentance and a victim's forgiveness (Graybill and Lanegran, 2004: 6). In this particular context, forgiveness - originally related to the private and personal sphere - is used in a collective and political sense. However, the linkage between forgiveness and reconciliation is controversial (Brudholm, 2006).

Firstly, the notion of forgiveness is far from being a crucial reference in all religions (Hermann, 2004: 45). Knowing that this term doesn't have a universal significance, can one consider forgiveness as a necessary condition for reconciliation? Secondly, the political use of forgiveness raises the sensitive question of a double delegation. Who can ask for it and who can grant it? On the one hand, people ask for forgiveness in the name of their late fathers. As descendants, they are not perpetrators themselves. On the other hand, survivors forgive in the name of the dead victims. However, an authentic apology can probably not be consigned and assumed by the principals without altering its meaning and its moral force (Tavuchis, 1991: 49). Moreover, strictly speaking, a state cannot forgive. In a collective frame, the reference to the concept of forgiveness can only be metaphorical. Many cases show the concrete limits of such a metaphor. Let us stress the reaction of the South African Joyce Mthimkulu towards those who had applied to the TRC for amnesty for their killing of her son: “They are not asking forgiveness from us, the people who have lost their loved ones. They are asking forgiveness from the government. They did not do nothing to the government. What they did, they did to us” (quoted by Biggar, 2003: 316). Similarly, various representatives of the Afghan civil society categorically refused the parliamentary project of an amnesty for groups suspected of perpetrating war crimes during a quarter-century of fighting. According to Afghanistan's highest body of Islamic clerics, parliament cannot issue a blanket amnesty because “only the victims of those crimes can forgive the perpetrators” (The Boston Globe, 11 March 2007).

These reactions show the importance of having in mind a clear distinction between interpersonal processes (micro level) and interstate or intercommunity processes (macro level). Since the representatives ask­ing for “forgiveness” repudiate in general deeds done by other members of a nation, these acts can be associated with expressions of regret, rather than ones of remorse. They remain political acts of apology rather than individual acts of repentance. In this respect, the case of Milan Babic is an exception. Babic was the first President of the Republic of Serbian Krajina, a largely Serb-populated region that broke away from Croatia. Indicted for war crimes by the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia in 2004, he admitted that he knowingly and intention­ally participated in the campaign of persecu­tions against Croatians. Before sentencing, he solemnly apologized to the Croatian people: “I stand before this tribunal with a deep sense of shame and remorse. I allowed myself to participate in the persecution of the worst kind against people only because they were Croats, not Serbs”. His words were unequivocal: “I ask my brother Croats to forgive us, their brother Serbs” (Le Monde, 10 March 2006).

Even in this case of political and per­sonal apologies, another argument can be underlined. How do you measure the level of sincerity of official representatives? This point is critical since the absence of remorse by those who are perceived as the aggressors creates an overwhelming sense of injustice in the victims (Montville, 2001: 131). Words can be seen as easy to utter (“talk is cheap”). As a result, apologizers are often asked to demonstrate their sincerity with actions such as reparation payments. Yet, this issue raises supplementary questions (Torpey, 2003; Jewsiewicki, 2004; Colonomos, 2005). How do you compensate victims for the suffering that has been endured? Until when? How do you avoid a succession of unlimited demands? Furthermore, reparations are most likely to occur in situations where there is clearly a perpetrator and a victim, which is rarely the case in interstate or interethnic conflicts, in which each side sees itself as a victim of past injustices.

These arguments do not deny the potential impact of public acknowledgements and diplomatic apologies. But they highlight the useful clarification between the interpersonal frame (appropriate for forgiveness) and the political or collective frame (pertinent for public acknowledgements and diplomatic apologies). Beyond this clarification, the multiplication and the emotional resonance of official apologies merit questioning (Barkan and Karn, 2006). How do you interpret the increasing number of public acknowledge­ments? Do these official signs of repentance reveal the emergence of a new international morality based on a cosmopolitan conscience (Barkan, 2000)? Or do they result instead from a pragmatic calculation in an increasingly interdependent world (Cohen, 2004)?