THE ARCHITECTURE OF REBIRTH: WHAT SYRIA’S TRANSITIONAL JUSTICE PROCESS CAN LEARN FROM CAMBODIA’S ECCC LEGACY AND ITS HYBRID MODEL

By Kevin Toro Sánchez

Since Assad’s fall in late 2024, Syria’s transitional period continues to carry the weight of a long war. The new period has opened doors for reform, but it has also exposed how fragile the country remains in terms of security, governance and basic social trust. In this context, the new authorities have established two bodies to guide the justice agenda: the National Commission for Transitional Justice and the National Commission for Missing Persons.

This article compares Syria’s early transitional justice efforts with Cambodia’s long journey to truth and accountability through the hybrid Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC). The comparison points to three themes that matter for Syria’s transition: how victims are brought into the process, how civil society helps shape it and what hybrid models can offer. The argument is straightforward: Syria’s “architecture of rebirth” could only take root if nationally driven processes are paired with sustained international support and meaningful participation from Syrian society.

Syria: one year after Assad

Following a 14-year protracted civil war, the Assad regime fell in December 2024. Since then, violence has substantially reduced, and large geographical areas controlled by the central authority, the Kurdish-led administration in the northeast, the Turkish-influenced north, and local armed groups elsewhere paint a fragmented security landscape.

The war claimed over 650,000 lives, and there are over 100,000 who are still missing or forcibly disappeared. Since the ousting of Assad, 1.2 million have returned to the country, and 1.9 million IDPs have returned home. Despite some signs of economic normalisation, such as reopened embassies, easing of selective sanctions, and financial support from several international stakeholders for the country’s rebuilding, these benefits have yet to trickle down. Many returnees face destroyed housing, lack of access to basic services, and joblessness. Housing, land and property disputes are already emerging as major obstacles to sustainable returns and will intersect with any future reparations or truth-seeking efforts.

The justice sector is still finding its footing as fundamental court reform, independence of the judiciary, and fair-trial guarantees remain weak. Social cohesion persists as a key challenge. The uneven territorial control worsens rule-of-law delivery and fuels local grievances, particularly among minority groups such as the Kurdish Syrians, the Alawites, the Druze or the Bedouin. Syrian civil society organisations (CSOs) can play an important role in mapping expectations, thereby preventing state institutions from being directly exposed to politicisation.

In May 2025, the Syrian government established the National Commission for Transitional Justice (NCTJ) and a separate National Commission for Missing Persons (NCMP). While the latter has been more active, including MoUs with civil society to support searches, the NCTJ faces major challenges in resourcing, staffing, and prioritisation, as arrests and investigations announced by other state organs appear ad hoc and are not institutionally linked to NCTJ programming. These early signs suggest the NCTJ is still identifying its priorities and calibrating its institutional mandate.

Cambodia: Lessons and cautions

Both Syria and Cambodia experienced years of authoritarian rule followed by abrupt violent rupture, mass atrocities, and long-term social fragmentation. In both contexts, truth, justice, memory, reparations and victims’ dignity are central to the legitimacy of the emerging state. Meeting these expectations demands practical choices, balancing criminal accountability with truth-seeking, reparations and institutional reform.

The Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC) was mandated to investigate the crimes perpetrated by the Khmer Rouge between 17 April 1975 and 6 January 1979. The legacy of its work yields several interesting lessons relevant to Syria.

  • Hybrid architecture can combine legitimacy and standards: As a hybrid court, the ECCC combined national and international elements, which bolstered procedural standards while retaining national ownership.
  • The establishment of factual records: The ECCC’s proceedings formally established historical facts under legal standards, creating a foundation for reconciliation between former Khmer Rouge cadres and the rest of the population.
  • A capacity-building exercise for the domestic judiciary and beyond: Throughout its 16 years of judicial proceedings, cooperation between Cambodian and UN personnel enabled the transfer of legal practice into the domestic system.
  • Victim participation matters: The ECCC’s Civil Party (victims recognised by the tribunal) system not only contributed to the legitimisation of the judicial process but also advocated for the inclusion of forced marriage and sexual violence within the scope of investigation in Case 002/02. Additionally, the insistence of victims, CSOs, legal teams, and progressive judges led to amendments to the court’s internal rules and the creation of a system for providing moral and collective reparations.
  • Working with the grain: Decades elapsed between the commission of the crimes and the establishment of the ECCC. This was possible only because extensive documentation and early efforts to preserve evidence created a solid factual basis for landmark convictions. For Syria, this underscores the value of early documentation even before formal mechanisms are fully operational.

At the same time, there are important nuances.

  • The DDR in Cambodia involved political trade-offs: Reintegration was never a smooth exercise; it entailed compromises and political calculations that were not always popular. Syria’s landscape is even more complex, with foreign fighters, shifting regional alliances and powerful local militias. Yet these very pressures make a credible reintegration strategy not only tricky but indispensable.

A Shared responsibility: the role of CSOs, victims and international stakeholders

These Cambodian lessons highlight a central parallel: in both contexts, accountability mechanisms depended on documentation and participation generated outside state institutions. Syria already possesses this infrastructure.

Syrian civil society such as the Syria Justice and Accountability Centre, the Syrian Women’s Political Movement, Madaniya, the Syrian Network for Human Rights, Syrians for Truth and Justice and victim groups such as Synergy Association for Victims (Hevdestî) have already produced robust documentation, supported universal jurisdiction cases, developed database software to preserve and analyse evidence, facilitated the creation of the UN General Assembly-established International, Impartial and Independent Mechanism (IIIM) and the Independent Institution on Missing Persons in the Syrian Arab Republic (IIMP), and prepared transitional justice roadmaps.

Universal-jurisdiction prosecutions in France, Germany and Sweden, and IIIM documentation can help shape emerging national approaches by setting early precedents and laying down a basic factual record that can serve as deterrents and challenge impunity, whilst the domestic security and judicial mechanisms adopt appropriate international standards.

In addition to evidence preservation, Syrian CSOs can support victim outreach, provide legal aid and psychosocial services, facilitate community dialogues, document reparations inventories, and conduct public education on transitional justice mechanisms.

On their part, donors and international agencies can assist with four concurrent tasks: (1) financing long-term state-led transitional justice mechanisms and additional supportive CSO-led; (2) support impartial forensic and archival systems, including grave mapping and investing in evidence management infrastructure; (3) facilitate technical expertise support without undermining local ownership; and (4) safeguard civic space by understanding the complimentary value that CSOs who gather evidence, intermediate with communities or serve as accountability watchdogs have in the process.

My previous work designing participatory processes in Cambodia shows how state institutions and civil society can collaborate even in tense political contexts. Three elements stand out as particularly crucial for Syria: (1) to build shared spaces where civil society organisations and state institutions can work out priorities together, rather than operating in parallel; (2) to ensure that survivors can feed into policy discussions in ways that actually influence decisions; and (3) to create safe and steady channels for groups who have historically been ignored or marginalised to explain what they need, without risking political exposure.

Final reflections 

Whilst Cambodia’s experience cannot be mapped directly onto Syria’s far more complex geopolitical landscape, specific lessons remain instructive.

The scope of Syria’s rebuilding and governance challenges means transitional justice systems must be designed with realistic institutional capacity in mind. Stretching institutions too far and too quickly could slow down early reforms.

One of Syria’s few steady anchors throughout the conflict, alongside emerging state institutions, has been its civil society. Syria’s transitional justice process and the emerging state institutions stand to gain from the active participation of its CSOs. They can guarantee victim and diaspora participation and the continued preservation of evidence in complex situations.

The extensive human, social, economic and infrastructural destruction requires transitional justice efforts to be established and funded with a long-term perspective. Short-term funding and strict conditions that diminish local ownership of the process should be avoided. Focusing on short-term, achievable, and measurable outcomes can help prevent donor fatigue, loss of interest, or a decline in public trust in transitional justice efforts before they have a chance to take hold. 

Justice in Syria will also mean addressing housing, land, and property disputes. These issues shape where people feel safe returning, how communities rebuild themselves, and where tensions may flare.

A hybrid model may offer Syria a way to balance credibility with local ownership: it could draw on international rules for evidence, due process and witness protection, while anchoring the system in Syrian courts and staffed by Syrian professionals. The ECCC’s legacy could serve as a valuable guide for an independent process to select judges, provide witness protection, ensure victim participation, and grant reparations. Authorities should also consider developing a clear framework for how new mechanisms can work with existing ones, such as universal jurisdiction cases and IIIM evidence flows.

Whether Syria builds its architecture of rebirth through the newly formed transitional justice mechanisms or adopts a hybrid formula, the transitional justice process must be guided by Syrian priorities and political realities. Comparative experiences can inform the discussion, yet solely remain reference points rather than blueprints.

Kevin Toro Sánchez is a PhD candidate at KU Leuven, Belgium, specialising in civil society contributions to transitional justice. Kevin has research and work experience in Nepal, Zimbabwe, South Africa and Cambodia, where he currently serves as technical advisor to the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia. The views expressed in this article are strictly personal and do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions where Kevin has been affiliated.

Restoring Dignity, Rebuilding Lives: Supporting the Reparations Mandate of the Trust Fund for Victims at the International Criminal Court

By Paolina Massidda

The ICC pursues justice for victims of grave international crimes through prosecution and reparations. The Office of Public Counsel for Victims (OPCV) provides legal representation in the ICC proceedings to Victims’ of gross human rights violations,  while the Trust Fund for Victims implements of both material and symbolic reparations. Major cases such as Ongwen, Lubanga and Ntaganda have led to large-scale reparations for thousands of victims. The OPCV20 Victims Donation Campaign invites public support so victims can rebuild their lives and regain hope.

Prosecution of crimes and redress for Victims lie at the heart of the mandate of the International Criminal Court (ICC). The creation of the Court marks an important turning point in defining the role for Victims of international crimes, not only because they can participate in proceedings independently of the Prosecutor by presenting their views and concerns, but also because they are entitled to compensation for the harm(s) suffered if the defendant is convicted.

For twenty years, the Office of Public Counsel for Victims (OPCV) at the ICC has ensured that Victims of genocide, war crimes, crimes against humanity and the crime of aggression (Articles 5 to 8 of the Rome Statute) have a voice in the pursuit of justice (Article 68(3) of the Rome Statute; Rules 89-91 of the Rules of Procedure and Evidence). The Office, which is independent, represents Victims in court and provides legal advice at all stages of the proceedings.

Retributive justice, as the fundamental concept inherent to all criminal prosecutions, was accepted as a crucial objective for the ICC: to uphold due process rights and the rule of law. At the international level, retributive justice also plays a fundamental role in educating the public about what happened, and, in so doing, helps propagate important concepts for international harmony, such as the equal value of all persons; that no one is above universal human rights criteria, and that blatant disregard for those rights will not be condoned. However, a system that principally rests on prosecution of perpetrators has its limitations.

International prosecutions alone cannot properly address crimes that involve gross human rights violations. Restorative justice, therefore, is important in making the specific circumstances and needs of Victims more integral to the international criminal justice process as it encourages the shift towards incorporating their interests within the criminal proceedings.

While neither of the justice outcomes is sufficient when pursued separately, combined they can come closer to actually delivering on the promise of justice: to address the human rights violations, the perpetrators must be punished; to restore the rule of law and address the consequences of the crimes, measures must be designed that take into account the specific needs of Victims and their conditions within society.

Although the conviction of perpetrators is in itself a form of reparation, justice goes beyond the courtroom. The damage caused by international crimes must be recognised and repaired through compensation that provides Victims with tangible support to rebuild their lives, restore their dignity and secure a future for themselves, their families and their communities.

Reparations are about more than just responding to Victims’ basic needs. Reparations must respond to the real impact of violations in Victims’ lives and at the same time be received as sincere efforts on the part of the larger society to acknowledge what happened and to provide some real measure of justice to those harmed. Moreover, reparations in restoring the dignity of Victims can help to create the conditions necessary for reconciliation by rebuilding trust within and between communities..

In accordance with Article 75 of the Rome Statute, a reparations order may take the form of restitution, compensation or rehabilitation. By their very nature, crimes within the jurisdiction of the ICC inevitably result in a large number of Victims. Consequently, in practice, reparations orders often take the form of collective measures designed to “repair” prejudice caused to the community, while retaining an “individual component”. The services provided to beneficiaries vary according to the type of harm(s) suffered.

In this sense, collective reparations may include individual elements such as psychological support, medical assistance, job placement or educational support. Furthermore, reparations can be material or symbolic in nature. Material reparations aim to compensate for damage that can be quantified in economic terms. They also seek to improve the living conditions of the beneficiaries. Symbolic reparations, on the other hand, take the form of commemorative actions, usually of a public nature. The right to reparations is one of the essential components of the right to justice. Indeed, the process has a cathartic and positive effect at an individual level, as well as a restorative virtue at a family, societal and community level.

Resources are essential to ensure that justice is not only delivered but felt by those who suffered most.

In this context, on the occasion of the 20th anniversary of its creation, the OPCV launched the OPCV20 Victims Donation Campaign. A fundraising initiative aimed at supporting the reparation programmes for Victims of international crimes ordered by the Chambers of the ICC and implemented by the Trust Fund for Victims (TFV).

The Campaign is an opportunity to make a meaningful and lasting difference in the lives of those who have endured unimaginable suffering, in particular:

  • Victims of sexual and gender-based crimes who need medical and psychological assistance and socio-economic support to rebuild their lives;
  • Children, some as young as five, who have been abducted from their homes or schools and forcibly recruited into militias, have lost their childhood and education. These children need psychological support and assistance to reintegrate into society;
  • Children born of rape who remain stigmatised and marginalised in society;
  • Victims who have suffered mutilation during attacks on their villages or towns and now need prosthetics and physical rehabilitation;
  • Victims who have lost their homes and livelihoods;
  • Victims forced to flee their country due to persecution.

The main reparations proceedings before the ICC concern the Ongwen case (Uganda), in which a reparations order has been issued for approximately €52.4 million for nearly 50,000 Victims. The order provides for a combination of symbolic cash payments, community-based rehabilitation programmes and symbolic activities. Reparation proceedings are also being implemented in the Lubanga and Ntaganda cases (Democratic Republic of Congo), in which reparation orders totalling $31.3 million have been issued for 10,500 beneficiaries. In these cases, the measures adopted include medical and psychological rehabilitation programmes and economic and educational support.

Finally, reparations have been completed in the Katanga case (Democratic Republic of Congo), which involved symbolic compensation, support for education, housing, and medical and psychological care; and in the Al Mahdi case (Mali) concerning the destruction of the city of Timbuktu, with measures that included the restoration of buildings, commemorative ceremonies, and support for the local economy.

In all these cases, since the convicted individuals are indigent, reparations are implemented through the TFV, in accordance with Article 79 of the Rome Statute.

The TFV has a dual mandate: 1) to implement reparations orders in cases where convicted persons are indigent; and 2) to promote assistance programmes for the benefit of Victims and their families. The TFV is financed through voluntary contributions from Member States of the Court and private individuals.

The Campaign is not just a fundraiser. It is a call to recognise that international criminal justice cannot be limited to punishing the perpetrators.

A shared commitment is needed to restore dignity and hope to those who have suffered atrocities that continue to have a profound and lasting impact on their lives, tearing apart the social and cultural fabric of the communities affected.

Donating means standing with Victims, helping them regain the dignity, hope and future they deserve. A small gesture can turn into a great act of solidarity.

The Campaign is open until 31 December 2025.

For further information and to make a donation, visit:

https://whydonate.com/fundraising/opcv20-victims-donation-campaign

Paolina Massidda is the Principal Counsel of the independent Office of Public Counsel for Victims at the ICC. In said capacity she represents Victims in several proceedings before the Court.

Restorative Sanctions in Colombia’s JEP: Challenges and Possibilities for Transitional Justice

By Kerry Clamp, Jennifer Llewellyn, Camilo Umaña, Juliette Vargas, Lorena Vega, Andrei Gómez-Suárez, Oscar Parra Vera, Catalina Diaz, & Stephan Parmentier

Colombia’s Special Jurisdiction for Peace (JEP) is pioneering a model of restorative sanctions that seeks to balance accountability, truth, and reparations in the aftermath of mass atrocity. This blog explores the first rulings issued in 2025, the debates they sparked, and what they reveal about the promise and limits of restorative justice for serious crimes. Drawing on insights from a University of Nottingham workshop, Clamp et al. examine challenges around victim participation, proportionality, conceptual clarity, and implementation. Ultimately, it reflects on whether restorative sanctions can meaningfully contribute to long-term peace and legitimacy in Colombia’s transitional justice process.

Introduction

Colombia’s 2016 peace agreement with the FARC established one of the world’s most ambitious transitional justice systems. At its core lies the Special Jurisdiction for Peace (JEP), tasked with addressing war crimes and crimes against humanity committed during decades of armed conflict.

A distinctive and often contested feature of the JEP is its provision for restorative sanctions. These are defined by the JEP as alternative sentences for those most responsible for serious crimes, contingent on full truth-telling, acknowledgement of responsibility, and contributions to reparation.

While some see the model as innovative and valuable, others warn it risks weakening accountability, either through measures resembling amnesty or by waiving prosecution for those already convicted. Critics also argue that restorative sanctions may unsettle legal principles such as proportionality, since they can appear incommensurate with the gravity of crimes committed. Importantly, under the JEP’s design most perpetrators of international crimes will not be prosecuted at all. Given the scale of violence and the tribunal’s limited mandate and resources, the majority are channelled through non-punitive pathways. This design reflects not only institutional constraint but also an attempt to craft rational solutions in contexts of mass atrocity.

Against this backdrop, key questions arise: what does it mean for a sanction to be restorative? Can such measures meaningfully balance accountability, victim participation, and societal transformation? And under what conditions might restorative sanctions provide a legitimate response to crimes as serious as crimes against humanity?

These questions were the focus of a two-day knowledge exchange workshop at the University of Nottingham in April 2025, which brought together JEP judges, Colombian practitioners, academics, and peace negotiators. Participants critically examined not only the practicalities of implementing restorative sanctions but also their normative foundations, ethical implications and contributions to long-term peacebuilding.

First Rulings: A Critical Test

In September 2025, the JEP issued its first two rulings imposing restorative sanctions in Case 01 (hostage-taking by the FARC) and Case 03 (extrajudicial executions by state agents). These rulings confirmed that sanctions will last eight years and include measures such as public acknowledgment, truth-telling, restrictions on liberty, and participation in reparative projects including memorialisation, environmental restoration, and victim-led initiatives.

They also consolidated dozens of prior convictions and explicitly linked sanctions to macro-criminal policies, underscoring both the accountability of high-level actors and the transitional character of this justice process. While the rulings marked a milestone, public debate followed. Some questioned whether proposed activities corresponded closely enough to the harms suffered, for example whether environmental projects could meaningfully repair the trauma of hostage-taking.

Restorative Sanctions: Beyond Punishment

Restorative justice is often contrasted with punitive approaches that equate accountability with punishment, fuelling claims that it amounts to impunity. Yet restorative justice does not reject accountability, it redefines it. It seeks to establish the relational and social conditions necessary for meaningful accountability at both individual and collective levels. In this sense, it is not merely an alternative to punishment but a fundamentally different approach to justice.

Within the JEP, restorative sanctions aim to deepen accountability through relational, participatory, and forward-looking measures. Sanctions are conditional upon detailed and public acknowledgment of responsibility, including identification of systemic patterns, naming of other actors, and active contributions to reparation and non-repetition. As the Constitutional Court affirmed in 2018 (Ruling C-080), their objective is not only the reparation and satisfaction of victims but also restoring balance between victim and perpetrator and demonstrating that offenders are subject to, not above, the law.

Participants at the Nottingham workshop noted that restorative sanctions may in fact demand more of perpetrators than conventional imprisonment: public acknowledgement of harm, ongoing engagement with victims and communities, and meaningful participation in rebuilding the social fabric. These measures are both retrospective and future-oriented, addressing past harms while supporting the conditions for just and peaceful relations.

Victim Participation and Communication

Another central theme from the workshop was the need to involve those directly affected by the conflict. Restorative justice cannot be designed as a purely top-down legal response; it must be co-shaped by victims and communities.

Yet participation is far from straightforward. Victims are not a homogeneous group, and expectations vary widely. Some prioritise punishment, others truth, or reparation. Meaningful participation therefore requires more than consulting preferences; it involves engaging in dialogue about needs and how they might be addressed.

Much scepticism arises from inconsistent communication about the purpose and nature of restorative sanctions, compounded by the long marginalisation of those harmed. Participants suggested that a key measure of success lies in whether victims remain engaged, even if critically. Their continued involvement signals legitimacy that is often absent in punishment-centred systems.

Early Practice and Pilot Projects

Although restorative sanctions have only been recently pronounced, restorative practices have already shaped earlier phases of the JEP’s work, particularly in truth-telling and investigation. In several macro-cases, requirements for detailed public acknowledgments of responsibility have moved proceedings beyond adversarial legalism toward relational engagement.

The JEP’s three pilot projects also provide additional lessons. These initiatives prioritised territorial relevance, victim participation, and bottom-up design. They demonstrated the potential of participatory approaches but revealed persistent challenges: security threats, institutional fragility, and insufficient victim input in determining sanctions meaningful to them.

Conceptual Clarity: Defining Restorative Sanctions

A significant gap identified during the workshop was the lack of conceptual clarity surrounding restorative sanctions. Even among those closely involved in the JEP process, the term is interpreted in diverse and sometimes conflicting ways.

Participants emphasised the importance of developing a shared understanding of what restorative sanctions mean in Colombia’s transitional justice context. This need not be a rigid definition but should involve reflective and inclusive spaces to explore tensions and complexities.

These discussions must address several core concerns: clarifying principles and objectives to guide design; defining the boundaries of proportionality; and guarding against instrumentalisation. If restorative sanctions are reduced to tools for securing confessions or cooperation, their ethical foundation is lost.

Designing and Implementing for Complexity

Participants identified key challenges in translating restorative principles into practice. A central concern was proportionality: sanctions must reflect the depth of relational, structural, and intergenerational harms, not just crime severity in a punitive sense. Flexibility is also critical. Colombia’s social and regional diversity means that a uniform model is unlikely to succeed.

Effective restorative processes require safe, informed, and sustained engagement not only for victims and survivors, but also for ex-combatants, communities, and institutions. Avoiding re-victimisation is vital. Processes must provide psychosocial support and guard against retraumatisation or coercion. Their legitimacy depends on respecting dignity, agency, and emotional well-being.

Participants also stressed that implementation cannot be reduced to checklists or procedures. If sanctions fail to change lived experience, they risk becoming symbolic gestures or rebranded community service. Comprehensive education and training are needed for judges, mediators, community leaders, and implementers, rooted in the ethical foundations of restorative justice not technical instruction alone. Participants emphasised that without a deep understanding of restorative justice principles, there is a risk that practices intended to repair harm will instead replicate the logic of punitive justice.

Finally, broader legal and institutional reforms are required. Frameworks must accommodate restorative demands, with monitoring and evaluation designed for learning as well as accountability. Coordination across JEP chambers is critical to ensure consistency and legitimacy. Above all, sustained political will is indispensable. Without it, restorative sanctions risk marginalisation or co-option.

A Careful but Hopeful Vision

The JEP’s restorative sanctions will not be a panacea. However, they are a small step, from indifference to interest, silence to truth-telling, and impunity to shared responsibility, that can represent progress. The goal is not perfection but advancing toward justice that builds the conditions for peace rather than merely condemning past wrongs.

The September 2025 rulings mark the first real test of this vision, revealing both its promise and its challenges. If Colombia can show that restorative sanctions are a viable response even to the most serious crimes, it will strengthen its fragile peace and contribute globally to the evolution of transitional justice.

Authors’ affiliations:

Kerry Clamp, University of Nottingham

Jennifer Llewellyn, Dalhousie University

Camilo Umaña, International Institute for the Sociology of Law

Juliette Vargas, German Colombian Peace Institute – CAPAZ

Lorena Vega, Pontificia Universidad Javeriana

Andrei Gómez-Suárez, School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London

Oscar Parra Vera,  Special Jurisdiction for Peace

Catalina Diaz, Special Jurisdiction for Peace

Stephan Parmentier, KU Leuven

Transitional Justice in Sudan? – Dealing with a present that one day will be past

In this post Janna Greve argues that support to transitional justice should not be deprioritised while an armed conflict or human rights violations are still ongoing. Referencing the current situation in Sudan, she highlights that, in addition to the continuous need for concerted efforts of the international community to end the devastating armed conflict, promoting transitional justice in and for the country is necessary already now. She underlines the key role, which Sudanese pro-democracy civilian actors should have, both in peace-making as well as in the preparations for a truly inclusive future transitional justice process. 

Summary

In view of urgent humanitarian and security needs during ongoing armed conflicts, normative commitments to and practical steps for transitional justice might be regarded less of an immediate priority. Yet, even amidst conflict-related violence and injustices, civilians and victims voice justice needs and demands. Moreover, it is already possible and pertinent to make transitional justice provisions for the aspired ‘day after’, to deal with crimes that will one day be in the past.

Sudan, on the one hand, exemplifies that negligence of transitional justice in the past contributed to compounding grievances, to mistrust and persistent tensions between different groups of society as well as to despair and partially revenge, which fuel the current violence. On the other hand, the country nowadays provides an emblematic recent example for the timeliness of already discussing inclusive transitional justice options, while an end of the armed conflict is not yet in sight.

 The Sudanese context can thus be a showcase for supporting civilian actors and victims in their quest for justice as a cornerstone of sustainable peace, and for learning from previous national transitional justice endeavours. As Mona Rishmawi, expert member of the Independent International Fact Finding Mission for Sudan recently stated: “Accountability is not optional – it is a legal and moral imperative to protect civilians and prevent further atrocities (in Sudan).”

The History of Mass Atrocities in Sudan – and First Steps Towards Accountability

On 06 October 2025, the International Criminal Court (ICC) found Ali Muhammad Ali Abd-Al-Rahman guilty of crimes against humanity and war crimes, entailing murder, torture, persecution, and rape. It had been proven that the militia leader held major responsibility for a scorched-earth campaign and deadly attacks against the Fur, Masalit and other non-Arab communities in Darfur, Sudan, between August 2003 and April 2004. The trial counts as an endeavour to deliver justice and accountability for past atrocities.

However, the chapter of violence and cycle of impunity in Sudan have not yet been closed. In the contrary, the “legacy of widespread human rights abuses, trauma, and impunity” persists, and victims continue to wait for justice and reparations.”   

Since the outbreak of the civil war in April 2023, both warring factions – the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF), and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) – have regularly committed war crimes and broke international humanitarian and human rights law. 

While proxies have been fuelling the current conflict dynamics, many root causes of today’s violence date back decades, stemming from severe inequality and structural socio-economic injustices in the country, particularly in marginalised areas. These injustices disproportionately enhanced vulnerability of some ethnic groups and victimised them.

As a result of the civil war, the country now faces one of the worst humanitarian crisis worldwide: in many regions, including in Darfur and recently in and around the city of El Fasher, civilians   have been made victims of atrocities such as mass displacement, enslavement, torture, abductions, starvation as a weapon of war, and the destruction of essential goods and infrastructure for survival (markets, health facilities, water sources etc.).  Further, evidence has been found on sexual and gender-based violence, including rape, forced marriage and sexual slavery, committed mainly against women and girls from non-Arab communities,  predominantly by RSF fighters, but also by SAF members.

In addition, the killings, which were carried out by military forces during pro-democracy protests in the capital Khartoum on 3 June, 2019, in a phase of military rule after the overthrow of former President Omar al-Bashir, have marked the recent past. Especially younger Sudanese demand accountability for the violent dispersal of a sit-in, which led to more than 120 people murdered, wounded or disappeared. Many of the latter were members of the so-called resistance committees, that is, often youth-led neighbourhood groups that were instrumental in bringing down al-Bashir and organising sustained pro-democracy protests. According to the recent Fact Finding Mission report,  survivors of the 3 June atrocities are particularly dismayed by the non-implementation of a thorough investigation since the 2021 military coup.

Prevailing Justice Needs and Civilian Engagement

Attempts to end the war and support the aspired transition towards democracy have so far not resulted in concrete results. Yet, civilian actors on the ground and in the diaspora who want a better future for their country have engaged to address the humanitarian needs (notably the Emergency Response Rooms), and to advocate for an inclusive political transition and for ending the violence. In several respective statements, such as the July 2023 Declaration of Principles of Civil Actors for Ending the War and Restoring Democracy, it was also mentioned that the peace endeavours need to go hand in hand with a renewed impetus for transitional justice. Notably, this Declaration emphasized the need for truth and reconciliation initiatives, with both victims and survivors, in addition to investigations on and accountability for war crimes, crimes against humanity and human rights violations committed in the current and previous wars.

Other dialogue meetings in 2024 with pro-democracy civilian actors equally reiterated the need to launch a transitional justice process to overcome impunity and ensure reparations. They also underlined that transitional justice will be required to restore the social fabric of the country, with the precondition that it was inclusive and gender-sensitive and aiming for transformation. Similar demands were also made in relation to consultations on accountability in 2024 and 2025.

In the recent past, young people, especially young women, have played a crucial role in community-led action, information dissemination and in the forming of alliances against the war and for civilian rule in Sudan. These initiatives can be seized to spread awareness about transitional justice in a context of mass atrocities, including restorative, victims-centred options, such as memoralisation, reparation, reconciliation initiatives and efforts to restore the victims’ dignity and humanity.  Overall, the design and implementation of a transitional justice framework for Sudan should be based on listening and consider the needs of female victims or women’s voices and ensure women’s continuous participation as an integral part of the preparation and implementation of the justice measures. In addition, given the country’s predominantly young population, young people should finally be included in respective decision-making processes. 

It is also noteworthy that a future transitional justice framework for Sudan can draw from existing expertise of Sudanese human rights and justice scholars – including in the diaspora – as well as from lessons from previous, although derailed or stagnated, drafts and provisions.

Among the existing valuable documents  is the 2020 Juba Agreement for Peace in Sudan, which described “(j)ustice, accountability, reconciliation, and transitional justice (as) critical for ensuring durable peace and security in Sudan”, and also reiterated not only international human rights conventions, and international humanitarian law, but also customs, cultures, and heritage of the Sudanese peoples. The Agreement also mentioned “(t)he right of victims to have unhindered access to effective justice and redress mechanisms” and the “ important role of women and youth in the prevention and resolution of conflicts, in transitional justice processes and in peace-building, and the imperative of their equal participation, and full engagement in all efforts for the maintenance of international peace and security, including justice and reconciliation.” Similarly, the Transitional Justice Commission Law of 2021 underlined the need for a conceptual framework with appropriate transitional justice mechanisms to also ensure truth finding in addition to legal accountability and different reparation measures for the victims, including to “restore dignity (…) in a way that achieves societal and national reconciliation, preserves and documents collective memory, and establishes guarantees of non-recurrence of violations and the transition to a democratic system.” In particular, it emphasised the pertinence of mapping of human rights violations, and inclusive country-wide consultations to compile justice needs and develop corresponding, participatory mechanisms.

Options and Recommendations for Advancing Transitional Justice in Sudan

That is, after the painstaking disarray in Sudan peace-making efforts in the past years, a new “peace push” to end this high-intensity conflict with a huge human toll is needed. It requires African ownership and the leadership of key actors such as the African Union (AU), IGAD, the UN, but also support by other actors such as the European Union (EU) to end the violence and pave the way towards a civilian-led transition government, while considering the voices and role of civilians as well as their justice needs. Without complementary efforts the impacts of decades of marginalisation, oppression and violence cannot be sustainably overcome. Treating transitional justice as an afterthought instead of an integral building block risks recurrence and weak band-aid solutions for Sudan.

Political will, commitment and resource allocation are thus preconditions for the implementation of a suitable transitional justice framework with mechanisms that contribute to the much-needed healing of the social fabric in Sudan and to a transformation of structural issues. Restorative transitional justice could pose an opportunity in this regard, with dialogue processes that go beyond band aid retribution by judicial trials. Regional actors with standing transitional justice policies such as the AU and EU can collaborate in supporting the work of the Fact-Finding Missions to secure evidence, monitor, and systemise findings.

Political, technical and financial support to inclusive and safe platforms for dialogue and consensus-building between different members of civil society remains crucial. In addition, the meaningful engagement of Sudanese legal and human rights experts and committed civilians is of utmost importance, also to uphold international standards. Thereby, gradually, the ‘how’ of transitional justice in Sudan – sequencing, the mandate and set-up, the role of different civilian and political actor and the constitution, institutional reforms, security provisions, conditional amnesties, the consideration of traditional justice mechanisms such as Judiyya, etc.– can be shaped, balanced and prepared with the shared objective: just and durable peace. There is just no dichotomy between the aspired peace and justice in Sudan.

Janna Greve is a PhD researcher with the Institute of Criminology at the Catholic University of Leuven, specializing in restorative Transitional Justice. After having graduated in 2006 in political science in Germany, Janna worked in different world regions, in the humanitarian, peacebuilding and peace mediation realm. Inter alia, she served as a policy officer for Peace Mediation and Dialogue at the European Union’s External Action Service, as senior project manager for Sub-Saharan Africa with the Martti Ahtisaari Peace Foundation – CMI, and as international professional with the OAS Mission to Support the Peace Process in Colombia (MAPP-OEA).

The Nottoway Plantation Burning and the Myth of Preservation

On May 15, the Nottoway Plantation, which was located in Louisiana and was the largest remaining Antebellum mansion in the US South, burned to the ground. In this blog post, Laney Lenox, Visiting Researcher at Universidad de Los Andes, examines how the treatment of this historical site tells about the state of memory culture in the United States.

Nottoway Plantation was a luxury resort that acted as an event venue, hotel, fine dining destination, and also offered historical tours. This is the basis upon which many have argued that  the burning of this plantation is a loss. It is worth noting that at the time of publication, the “History” section of the website only includes an inventory of the property’s oak trees. Further, a video circulating on social media of the historical tours given at the site severely whitewashes the practice of enslavement that was the primary reason for Nottoway’s existence.

In this video, a tour guide wearing an Antebellum-style dress proudly proclaims that descendants of the original people enslaved on the property still work at Nottoway to this day. She also claims that the original plantation owner, John Hampden Randolph, possessed the most enslaved people in the region because he (it is implied benevolently) purchased entire families together so they would not be separated.

Historical sites as future-building tools

For a stark contrast to Nottoway’s method of memorializing the past, the Whitney Plantation, also in Louisiana, focuses on the history of enslavement as a whole and in particular memorializes the people that were enslaved on that property. To visit any plantation site is to visit a site of atrocity and human rights violations. Visitors cannot escape this fact when visiting the Whitney. Notably, the Whitney does not allow weddings or wedding and engagement photography to be held on their grounds. Both their own website and previous social media posts have made this very clear and explained why such activity is inappropriate on former plantations.

That the Whitney Plantation ever felt the need to provide an explanation for why they will not host weddings points to the state of memory culture in the American South and the United States in general. Using Suzanne Buckley-Zistel’s understanding of Foucault’s “heterotopia” as literally an “other space” existing outside of our public and normative everyday life, I argue that Nottoway offered a harmfully false representation of its own history.

In Buckley-Zistel’s understanding, these historical sites act as “other spaces” through offering a sense of time travel for visitors from our shared present to a preserved past. Historical sites often present themselves as preserved relics of the past that offer a direct connection to a time outside of our own. The problem with this understanding is that museums and memorials are curated by people that exist very much within our own time and reflect the current values of our society.

In my research as a memory studies academic, I argue for an approach to dealing with history that uses the past as a tool to build more equitable future societies. History can be a powerful space of reflection, but only if we fight for it to be used as such.  In my own work, I have argued for thinking of such sites as a phone call to the past rather than a bridge, implying a sense of ongoing dialogue and meaning making.

How we collectively understand the future directly impacts the societal structures that get built and maintained in our present. What then does the history Nottoway Plantation presented of its own past say about our current societal values? The historical representation that was offered at Nottoway is an extension of the “lost cause” narrative of the Civil War. This term describes an understanding of the Civil War that romanticizes enslavement and downplays its brutality, painting the Confederacy as a fight to preserve Southern culture and ways of life. Groups such as The United Daughters of the Confederacy preserve this narrative via movements such as fighting to keep statues of Confederate leaders and soldiers in public urban spaces.

The way we discuss the past directly shapes how historical narratives function in our societies. When we think about the past, we are actually only recalling the last time we thought about that memory. This is not just a philosophical framing of memory, it is a biological reality studied by neuroscientists. On a societal level, this means that we frame the past in the context of how we understand our present and also what we hope for in our future. Sites like Nottoway are presenting a version of both the present and the future that belies the deeply racist underpinning of American society.

Both a personal and a societal reckoning

I am a proud Louisianian. However, I believe this means fighting for a more equitable and less racist version of the state. My mother often says that gumbo, a traditional Louisiana Creole and Cajun dish, is a manifestation of Louisiana itself. The base origin of the dish  (and the name) are West African. The filé is native, coming from the ground sassafras the Choctaw and Houma would use in their stews, the roux and what my family and many others call the Cajun Holy Trinity (green bell pepper, celery, onion) come from the French speaking populations of the State (Creole and/or Cajun), the andouille sausage used in some versions of gumbo developed from both the German and French-speaking communities, and the okra from enslaved people who brought the seeds (in some cases hidden in their hair) for the vegetable with them through the Transatlantic Slave Route. To be in dialogue with history and the past means to be in dialogue with every piece of it. Legendary New Orleans chef Frank Brigtsen says that when he eats okra gumbo he “think[s] about the cruelty of slavery every single time.”

It is important that I advocate for a different approach to “dealing with the past” in the United States not just as an academic but also as a white Southerner. As an anthropologist, I see the field of anthropology not through the traditional colonial lens of studying “the other” but as a tool of reflexivity to better understand ourselves and the systems of power in which we are situated. In engaging with this work during the past ten years, it is overwhelmingly clear to me that until we talk about history in a way that meaningfully engages colonialism, white supremacy, and other systems of oppression, we have no hope of building a better future. This includes divesting from these systems of oppression as they manifest within ourselves. That’s why, as a white Southerner, I was happy to see this past and present symbol of white supremacy reduced to ash.

Laney Lenox is a Visiting Researcher at Universidad de Los Andes and holds a PhD from Ulster University. She resides permanently in Berlin. Publications include chapter contributions in Fight for a new normal? Anarchism and mutual aid in the Covid-19 pandemic crisis (2024) and The Prisons Memory Archive: A case study in filmed memory of conflict (2022). Find out more about her work here: https://linktr.ee/laneylenox