The U.N. High Commissioner for Human Rights (and secretary-general of the conference) may be disappointed. The Durban conference is the most ambitious United Nations antiracism colloquium ever, and it is the first since the age of apartheid (held, with full awareness of the symbolism, in the now-democratic South Africa). But it already has stumbled into a minefield of recrimination and distrust. And it has yet to officially begin.
Two issues have all but hijacked the agenda: Israel’s treatment of Palestinians and whether the countries of the North owe an apology and reparations to the countries of Africa. The United States has threatened to boycott the meeting (or downgrade its delegation) if either item remains on the agenda. So, instead of packing their bags for Durban, White House and State Department officials spent much of last week debating whether Colin Powell should attend–debating, in essence, whether America’s first black secretary of State could afford to risk his prestige on a gathering that might embarrass the United States.
For South Africans all this is distressing. The onetime pariah state had seen the international gathering as a perfect occasion to showcase its postapartheid progress. They also saw it as a potential boost to Africa in general, an opportunity to present “an African voice that has some integrity… to put African values and strategies… on the map,” in the words of N. Barney Pityana, chair of the South African Human Rights Commission. They resent the fact that issues considered tangential have suddenly assumed center stage.
Yet, with the Middle East conflict raging, it’s hardly surprising that Arab delegates should use the conference to snipe at Israel. Nor, given the meeting’s focus, is it surprising that African states and the descendants of Africans would attack the West for slavery and colonialism. Robinson’s own rhetoric has encouraged such dynamics, as she has consistently argued for the healing potential of making amends for past evils. Her views are shaped in part by the experience of Ireland, which she served as president from 1990 to 1997. Near the end of her tenure, British Prime Minister Tony Blair expressed regret that Britain did not do more to alleviate Ireland’s suffering during the potato famine of the 1840s. That statement “was talked about in clubs and pubs… It made a difference,” Robinson told me during a conversation in Geneva. But even as she has argued for coming to terms with the past, Robinson has insisted that this conference must focus on the future. Her vision of a new relationship between North and South and of a spotlight for struggles yet unheralded may draw as many as 14,000 people to Durban over the next two weeks.
For poorer countries the meeting is a chance to make the case for debt cancellation, foreign direct investment and assistance in a broad range of areas–from agriculture to communications technology. And for the developed world it is an opportunity to show that the fashionable rhetoric around human rights is sincerely intended. But it is nongovernment groups for whom the conference has singular importance.
Over the past several months, in scores of meetings around the globe–Santiago, Quito, Warsaw, Tehran, Costa Rica, Dakar, Strasbourg, Nashville and elsewhere–a vast assortment of NGOs, energized by the upcoming conference, have cobbled together the nucleus of a revived international anti-bias movement. They see the world conference as a mammoth coming-out party, a sentiment that Robinson has encouraged by setting aside the first three days in Durban (Aug. 28 through Sept. 1) for a so-called NGO forum. Those sessions will be something of a shadow conference to the official governmental meeting, running from Aug. 31 through Sept. 7. The NGOs and the government delegations will produce parallel documents–specifically a declaration of principles and concerns and a so-called program of actions. But for many participants, the more important outcome will be not the documents but the global awareness they hope to generate.
The European Roma Rights Center, for instance, is bringing a delegation of about 50 people to speak out on discrimination faced by Roma (or Gypsies) throughout Europe. That discrimination manifests itself in a variety of ways–from being segregated in special schools to being targeted for suspicion by police and shopkeepers. “It’s really important to send a visible Roma delegation to Durban to stand up for their own rights,” said Angela Kocze, ERRC human-rights- education director.
Spokesmen for the Dalits, the Indian subcaste once known as untouchables, are similarly determined to make their presence felt. Though the Indian government has successfully fought off being singled out for criticism in official conference documents, Dalit leaders hope to use the conference to give the world a glimpse of the situation they face at home. Many Dalits, particularly in rural villages, face daily humiliations. They are often beaten for the slightest offenses, are barred from drawing water from common wells, are prohibited from attending the same temples as higher-caste Hindus and are relegated to the most demeaning types of work. Paul Divakar, advocacy director of India’s National Campaign for Human Rights, believes the conference will give the Dalit leadership the chance show the international community that it should be just as exercised over caste discrimination (in India, Nepal and elsewhere) as it once was over apartheid.
American civil-rights activists see the conference as an occasion to jump-start the domestic civil-rights debate. Similarly, blacks throughout Latin America, as well as representatives of indigenous peoples around the world, see the meeting as a chance to shift attention to issues of equity and social justice that are often ignored.
What will finally come of the commotion is impossible to say. For Robinson, the objective has always been clear. “We need a catharsis in Durban,” she has said. That catharsis, as she sees it, will result in nothing less than a global realignment, in the coming together of North and South. Such a grandiose vision was never realistic. And recently, as conference deliberations have degenerated into squabbling over Zionism and reparations, expectations have naturally fallen. Throughout it all, the South Africans have tried to stay optimistic. “I don’t think 190 nations would come together to walk away with a failed conference,” said Cheryl Gillwald, South’s Africa deputy minister of Justice.
Failure, of course, is a relative concept. The meeting will obviously fall short of Robinson’s optimistic hopes. And it almost certainly will lack Colin Powell’s glamorous presence. But for those on the ground, suffering in cultural isolation, it may nonetheless perform an inestimable service: strengthening the sense that there is a community out there that cares. It may even give the world’s newly visible “victims” some tools with which to fight.
