Pinochet’s detention marked a turning point in the development of international law and international relations

General Augusto Pinochet. Photo credit: The Conversation

It became an address to remember: 20 Devonshire Place, Marylebone. For it was here, behind the front door of The London Clinic, that former Chilean dictator General Augusto Pinochet was arrested on the night of October 16, 1998. Pinochet, who was 82, was in the UK recovering from back surgery at the time, but was woken up by police and informed that he was under arrest for crimes against humanity on the basis of an international warrant issued by Spanish judge Baltasar Garzón.

The specific allegations concerned not only human rights abuses committed against Spanish citizens in Chile during the military regime established after the coup of September 11, 1973, but also the murder, torture, hostage-taking and genocide of Chileans and other nationals.

Overnight, the London Clinic arrest became a symbol of hope for justice and redress. For Pinochet – who died in 2006 – was, first and foremost, one of the most infamous dictators of the 1970s and 1980s. Pinochet’s 1973 military coup overthrew Chile’s democratically-elected president, Salvador Allende, and installed a brutal and repressive mandate in his place. Indeed, the dictatorship’s abuses gave rise to one of the largest human rights campaigns in the world.

Following a dramatic legal battle, the British courts rejected Pinochet’s claim that he was entitled to immunity as a former head of state and ruled that he could be extradited to Spain to stand trial. Although this never occurred – UK home secretary, Jack Straw, ultimately allowed Pinochet to return home after 503 days of arrest on the grounds of ill health – Pinochet’s detention marked a turning point in the development of international law and international relations.

Why it matters

It set two important precedents. First, it revitalised the principle of universal jurisdiction, which allows states or international organisations to prosecute individuals regardless of the place where the crimes were committed and the nationality of the perpetrators and victims. Second, it withdrew the immunity of heads of state or ex heads of state for human rights violations.

Although the Geneva Conventions of 1949 requested that states establish and exercise universal jurisdiction for war crimes and crimes against humanity, this principle had not been widely invoked in national tribunals prior to Pinochet’s UK arrest. Apart from the trial of the German-Austrian Nazi Adolf Eichmann in Israel there were few examples of cases brought to courts on the basis of such a doctrine before 1998.

But as a result of the Pinochet case, the notion of sovereignty, traditionally understood as the right of a state to respect the independence of other states, had to be redefined. The idea that governments are unaccountable to courts located in foreign states for their domestic policies changed, so that all states now became subject to fundamental human rights norms. Never again could tyrants use immunity as a means to avoid criminal responsibility.

But 20 years on from that landmark event, what does it mean for global justice today? Has it really affected the prospects of holding political leaders to account for human rights abuses?

Undoubtedly, the Pinochet arrest in London offered an enormous window of opportunity to activists, lawyers, victims and non-governmental organisations to establish transnational networks to pursue human rights accountability.

A policeman stands on duty during a demonstration against former Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet in London’s Trafalgar Square on November 7, 1998. EPA Images

Not only were Chilean courts persuaded to reexamine amnesties that protected many senior individuals in domestic legislation, but other Latin American countries, such as Argentina and Uruguay, also reopened human rights investigations into perpetrators of atrocities. The decision of the UK’s House of Lords to narrow the charges against Pinochet only to cases of torture, also gave particular visibility to Chile’s torture survivors, driving the creation of a Chilean National Commission to investigate those crimes.

A fairer new world?

In Europe, meanwhile, Spain turned its attentions to addressing crimes committed during the Franco era, while courts in Belgium, France and Germany extended the Pinochet precedents to human rights violations that had taken place beyond their territorial borders. The tireless efforts of human rights activists and victims that led to the 2016 conviction of the former dictator of Chad, Hissene Habré, for crimes against humanity, for example, was unquestionably inspired by the Pinochet arrest in London. Habré was arrested and tried in Senegal and sentenced to life imprisonment.

This rapid expansion of international and domestic trials to hold political leaders to account for human rights abuses forms part of a trend that political scientists have called the “justice cascade”. This does not mean perfect justice, but it has helped to legitimise the norm of individual criminal accountability for human rights violations.

The initial enthusiasm unleashed by the Pinochet case has been replaced, however, by growing scepticism in the last decade. States such as Belgium and Spain, once considered pioneers in embracing the doctrine of universal jurisdiction, have limited the power of their courts to pursue criminals outside their frontiers. In both cases, these limitations came in response to the demands of powerful states, such as the US, Israel and China, who are reluctant to see their own citizens stand trial overseas for such crimes.

The international community’s inability to end the massacre of civilians in Syria, for example, has also reinforced the pessimistic idea that human rights only prevail when the strategic interests of major state actors are not at stake.

But there is reason for hope. A report published in March 2018, by Trial International, paints a more optimistic picture. Reviewing 58 cases involving 126 individuals, the study shows a sharp increase in the number of cases brought to court based on the principle of universal jurisdiction. Indeed, the significant limitations of the International Criminal Court (ICC) to pursue human rights prosecutions – Russian and Chinese UN Security Council vetoes prevented Syria being referred to the court, for example – seems to have triggered a vigorous resurgence in the application of this doctrine via the national courts of third countries.

The promise of effective global justice that came with Pinochet’s detention in London hasn’t yet been realised. But the positive changes triggered since 1998 were made possible thanks to transnational networks of activists, lawyers, victims and human rights institutions who were able to exert pressure on states to change how they defined justice. The lesson is that while moments such as the Pinochet arrest can open windows of opportunity, the world also needs individuals, organisations and governments that are willing to make the most of them – and change things for the better.

Veronica Diaz-Cerda is Teaching Associate, Aston University

This story was first published on The Conversation. Read the original.

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You investigated humanitarian operations in the Great Lakes region between 1990 and 1997. This was a period of extreme violence against Rwandophone populations. You specifically looked at the records of Doctors Without Borders in Paris. What did you hope to learn?
Marc Le Pape: The actual day-to-day work of humanitarian teams in situations of extreme violence is generally little known and understood. That’s why our investigations focussed on messages from the field, while most studies are far more concerned about getting the macro-political or macro-humanitarian picture. Taking a “micro” perspective meant we could observe the long-term evolution of operations: how, and with whom, did teams need to negotiate to launch and maintain operations?

So we looked at how these teams got information and communicated with political and military authorities, various local authorities, UN agencies in the Great Lakes region, local and international NGOs, religious leaders and people at emergency sites, in medical facilities and camps.
We also looked at the relationship between the field of operations, national capitals and the various Doctors Without Borders head offices. We tracked field accounts transmitted up the chain of command, how the organisation’s head offices reacted to the stories of violence, intimidation and prohibitions, and the way these were then framed and talked about publicly.

For example we examined all the documents, from internal alerts to public statements, demonstrating the gradual realisation of humanitarian workers in Rwanda in 1994 that they were witnessing the systematic, organised extermination of the Tutsi people.

Did humanitarian workers witness extreme violence?
Jean‑Hervé Bradol: It’s shocking to see, from 1994 onwards, the extent to which humanitarian workers became regular eyewitnesses to violence, murder and large-scale massacres. It is generally rare for humanitarian workers to witness these kinds of events. They typically work at a distance from mass killing sites and the perpetrators remain largely anonymous. This was not the case in Rwanda.

The situation in April 1994 was extreme and basically unprecedented, at least for Doctors Without Borders. Humanitarian workers where present when the decision was made as to who would die and who would be spared. Some Rwandan staff members were among the victims. Others were complicit, or even participated in these crimes.

Can you give a few examples of the violent situations Doctors Without Borders workers witnessed and what kind of lessons were learned – or not?
Jean‑Hervé Bradol: In April 1994 I was working in Kigali. In the first few days following the assassination of former president Juvénal Habyarimana, we braced ourselves for a massive eruption of violence. We thought there would be reprisals against the Tutsi, but never imagined that the order would be to “kill them all”.

Our team quickly realised that, at least in Kigali, the extermination of the Tutsi did not arise from chaos; instead, it was organised. Others also rapidly grasped the situation, in particular the head of the International Committee of the Red Cross delegation. It was awful. We knew the army was providing arms to the militia groups manning the road blocks. This made it extremely dangerous to evacuate wounded Tutsi adults to the Red Cross hospital: when they were caught, they were executed.

Later, Doctors Without Borders workers also witnessed first-hand the horror of the prisons in Rwanda. Between September 1994 and May 1995, they worked in Gitarama, where 3,000 prisoners were incarcerated in a complex built for 400 detainees. Some 800 prisoners died during this period. These people were arrested based solely on hearsay. We were their doctors, so we could not escape the realities of the new regime’s policy and the crimes committed by the former rebels.

Among other shocking crimes committed by the new authorities was the Kibeho massacre in April 1995. The new Rwandan (formerly rebel) army killed several thousand people in an internally displaced persons refugee camp in front of a Doctors Without Borders medical team. People convinced themselves that one mass crime, the Tutsi genocide, could hide other mass crimes committed by the new government.

As a sociologist, did you learn things that you had not realised were important to aid NGOs?
Marc Le Pape: I learnt the extraordinary importance of counting populations: the numbers of people in camps and on the run, of victims and of people being treated.

Conducting frequent counts is of course crucial for humanitarian organisations, especially when they need to know how many supplies to bring to the field. In the case of emergency NGOs, counts are also politically important to back up first-hand accounts, ensure that the murders they have witnessed are documented, and oppose competing statements that claim to be based on figures.

This interview is published as part of the work of the “Violence and exiting violence” platform (Foundation Maison des sciences de l’homme), of which The Conversation France is a partner. It was translated from the French by Alice Heathwood for Fast for Word.

Marc Le Pape, sociologue (Institut des mondes africains), École des hautes études en sciences sociales (EHESS) and Jean-Hervé Bradol, Médecin, Fondation Maison des Sciences de l’Homme (FMSH) – USPC

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

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An outside view of the new complex of the International Criminal Court (ICC) in The Hague, The Netherlands. Picture by Robin Utrecht/ABACA/PA Images.

In a world where states very reluctantly – if ever – cede powers to supranational organisations, the ICC has seen 124 states ratify its Rome Statute. The adolescent court is also seeing its jurisdiction expand this year to include a new crime: the crime of aggression.Added in the last hours of the drafting of the Rome Statute in 1988, due to the dogged persistence of three Nuremberg Trial prosecutors throughout the night, the crime was mentioned in the Statute but its definition was left for later.

Later was 2010, when an amendment to the Rome Statute containing the definition was agreed on by state parties in Kampala. The result of intense and lengthy negotiations, the addition was praised as a historic achievement for international criminal law. That was not the end of it, though: the amendment then had to be ratified by 30 states to come into force.

The crime of aggression is referred to as being the planning, initiation or execution, by a political or military decision-maker, of the use of armed force by a state against another.

In June 2016, the State of Palestine became the 30th to ratify it, allowing the court to exercise jurisdiction over the crime of aggression after the 1st of January 2017. The Assembly of States party to the Rome Statute are expected to vote to activate that jurisdiction this year.

The crime of aggression is referred to as being the planning, initiation or execution, by a political or military decision-maker, of the use of armed force by a state against another.

The Rome Statute provides a list of acts that qualify as an act of aggression, including invasion or attack, bombardment, blockade of ports or coasts, and even the sending of mercenaries against another state.

Turning point, or more of the same?

The potential power of this addition to the court’s jurisdiction is remarkable. The need to hold to account those responsible for illegal acts of aggression remains one of the biggest challenges of our time, and is forever present on the agenda of international law: think Russia in Crimea, the US and UK in Iraq and Afghanistan, NATO in Libya, the US and Saudi Arabia in Yemen, etc.

The ability to investigate and expose illegal military interventions and, in some cases, punish those responsible for them, will play a crucial role in moving our system of international relations away from the concept of ‘might makes right’. Already, states are increasingly seeking to justify the legality of their attacks (France came up with no less than three legal grounds for its intervention in Mali). The threat of prosecution will only encourage this trend.

Of course, for all those hopeful to see the impunity of warmongering states challenged, a reality check is called for.

The ICC’s new power will not re-open the wounds of the past: the court will only be able to investigate crimes of aggression that happen in 2017 or after.

Firstly, the ICC’s new power will not re-open the wounds of the past: the court will only be able to investigate crimes of aggression that happen in 2017 or after.

Secondly, it is possible for state parties to refuse the ICC’s authority for this crime only, via a simple procedure (Kenya did so in July 2016).

Thirdly, crimes of aggression by non-party states (or in their territory) cannot be investigated, even if perpetrated against a state party. Non-party states include three superpowers (the US, Russia and China) and several regional powers (India, Turkey, Indonesia and Israel ), so any wars initiated by these states are off limits. This defers from the three other international crimes for which the ICC can prosecute non-party states if the crime was committed in a state party’s territory or if it was referred to the ICC by the UN Security Council (UNSC).

Fourthly, the UNSC can defer or block investigations for the crime of aggression, in a way that compromises the supposed independence of the ICC.

Let’s imagine France invades Mali (again. This time without the alleged invitation by the Malian government). The invasion can be referred to the ICC either by the UNSC (unlikely, since France has veto power), by a state party (say, Mali) or by the ICC’s prosecutor herself. Imagine it is the latter.

The prosecutor must then go to the UNSC and ask whether the Council believes France committed a crime of aggression. The UNSC has six months to give its take on the matter (note that this is before investigations start, so the Council’s decision will not be based on any fact-finding, and will likely reflect the interests of its members).

If it unanimously agrees that a crime of aggression has been committed, investigations can start. In this example, France would surely disagree so the UNSC would either fail to provide an answer within six months, or reply that no crime of aggression has occurred. The prosecutor must then go to the Pre-Trial Division and convince a panel of four judges that investigations are necessary.

When deciding whether to allow the investigations, the Pre-Trial Division will take judicial notice of – and put significant weight on – the refusal by the Security Council to recognise the crime. It might therefore decide that investigations are not appropriate for this situation, and France will remain immune to prosecution for invading another country.

What if the Pre-Trial Division finds that a crime of aggression clearly has happened and that disallowing investigations would be unjustifiable? Article 16 of the Rome Statute comes to France’s rescue: this provision allows the Security Council to exceptionally defer or pause ICC investigations – at any point – for a year (and again for a year after that, ad infinitum). For that, France would need its best negotiators to convince 8 other Security Council members (out of 15) to vote in favour of deferral, as well as persuade the permanent members not to veto it (a single veto would block deferral).

If successful, France will not face investigations for violating the UN Charter, at least not for another year.

This system gives the UNSC unjustified power and effectively projects the imbalance of power of international relations onto the ICC, perpetuating the impunity of powerful states

Clearly, this system gives the UNSC unjustified power and effectively projects the imbalance of power of international relations onto the ICC, perpetuating the impunity of powerful states. The system also encourages smaller states to do everything they can to maintain close ties with the powerful states, so as to sway their vote if investigations against them were proposed.

Let’s not be fooled: the ICC, having been created by states, inevitably reflects their interests and the power dynamics between them. You could be forgiven for hoping that this “new” crime might re-balance the activities of the court by allowing it to focus on the leaders of powerful states, who tend to wage more illegal wars than others. At last the crime would be able to counter the increasingly fair criticism of neocolonial bias (in 15 years the ICC has only prosecuted black Africans).

With the crime of aggression, the spotlight would be on the bullies of our world: those states that can afford war-mongering, financially and politically

Perhaps this new crime could redeem the credibility of the court and retain the growing number of suspicious members. In October last year Burundi and South Africa both announced their pulling out and are now spear-heading an African Union strategy of mass withdrawal. Gambia followed suit soon after, accusing the court of having become “an International Caucasian Court for the persecution and humiliation of people of colour, especially Africans.”

With the crime of aggression, the spotlight would be on the bullies of our world: those states that can afford war-mongering, financially and politically.

Too political a crime for the ICC?

But the reaction around the world has been far less optimistic, arguing that the court is attempting to run before it can walk. It is feared that this ‘new’ crime will only politicise an already fragile institution, potentially polarising its members. Indeed investigations for the crime of aggression will involve political choices, such as evaluating a government’s claim that an intervention is “humanitarian”, or deciding whether its fear of an imminent attack was reasonable. It would also involve determining the intent of political or military leaders (and what about if they are in a coalition with other states?).

What’s more, having no enforcement powers of its own, this ICC will be dependent on states to intervene to stop a crime of aggression or arrest a perpetrator, which could then encourage disputes and hostilities between states enforcing the ICC’s indictment and those opposing the indictment.

However, the argument that the crime of aggression will politicise the court forgets that all ICC investigations are politicised.

They could not be otherwise: they examine politicians and policies. The process in which they are initiated is deeply political and continues to be dependent on a political body: the UN Security Council. ICC prosecutions propose a political vision: one in which transparency and accountability matter. The court itself is the result of political negotiations and works within a heavily politicised arena, shaped by state interests. The question is not whether the ICC is becoming too political, but rather whether it can overcome politics to be effective and provide equality for states before the law.

While prosecution by the ICC for illegal war-mongering seems very unlikely as of now, the addition of the crime of aggression to the court should be cause for optimism. The threat of investigations and prosecution can be just as important as their result. The ICC needs however to remember that for this threat to be effective, it needs to be real.

Deterrence literature suggests that the swiftness and especially the likelihood of punishment may more effectively deter crime than severity of punishment. The ICC is not known to be quick, and because of additional hurdles put in place for the investigation of this particular crime, it could be slower than usual. The ICC will need to increase efficiency and challenge political influences that damage its impartiality, if it hopes to find the teeth to take a bite at the impunity of powerful states.

Laurène Veale is a graduate from the University of Edinburgh with an MA in Arabic and Politics, she has worked and volunteered for aid organisations and human rights campaigns in Palestine, Egypt, Turkey and Lebanon. She's currently Head of Learning for a charity in London which uses the law and the skills of lawyers to promote human rights and fair development.

This story was first published on openDemocracy.

 

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Foreign Policy reports that the International Criminal Court is poised to formally investigate US actions for the first time in its history

The remains of the Médecins Sans Frontières hospital in Kunduz, Afghanistan, six months after it was attacked in a U.S. airstrike. (Photo: Reuters)
 

The International Criminal Court (ICC) is preparing to initiate a full investigation into potential war crimes in Afghanistan, including those committed by US military personnel, Foreign Policy exclusively reported last week.

The magazine writes:

Multiple sources have indicated that the chief prosecutor, Fatou Bensouda, will seek to initiate an investigation in the coming weeks, likely after the U.S. presidential election but before the end of the year. U.S. officials visited The Hague recently to discuss the potential investigation and to express concerns about its scope.

A formal investigation of US activities would be the first in the history of the ICC, to which the US is not a party. But because Afghanistan is a member, an investigation is "certainly possible," Phyllis Bennis of the Institute for Policy Studies told Common Dreams. "Afghanistan joined the ICC in 2003, so all actions after that time are subject to ICC jurisdiction," Bennis said.

"But then you get to the question of political will," Bennis added.

"Is the prosecutor concerned enough about the accusations of discrimination levied against the ICC that she's willing to go after US clients and US officials?"
—Phyllis Bennis, Institute for Policy Studies

The ICC has famously failed to investigate powerful Western nations while prosecuting African dictators, a disparity so glaring that several African countries recently quit the court, condemning it as the "International Caucasian Court."

"Is the prosecutor concerned enough about the accusations of discrimination levied against the ICC that she's willing to go after US clients and U.S. officials?" Bennis asked.

Rights advocates hope that Bensouda may be willing to take aim at powerful nations. The prosecutor was behind the preliminary ICC report published last year, "Report on Preliminary Examination Activities" (pdf), which suggested that the U.S. was "responsible for 'physical and psychological' violence and torture that 'debased the basic human dignity' of those detained" in Afghanistan, as Common Dreams reported.

Indeed, photos released by the Pentagon earlier this year demonstrated the brutal abuse of detainees at the hands of U.S. forces in Afghanistan.

Bensouda may also probe the deadly bombing by U.S. forces of a Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) hospital in Kunduz, Foreign Policy reports. MSF has characterized the airstrike as a war crime, and rights groups have harshly criticized the Pentagon for its light punishment of those responsible for the attack.

Despite the looming investigation, Foreign Policy observes that prosecution of US forces for war crimes is still a long way away and may not happen:

[Prosecution] would require significantly more evidence than the prosecutor's office currently possesses. The ICC normally does not interview witnesses, take testimony, or gather forensic evidence during its preliminary examinations, and that work would be just the beginning.

In order to charge Americans with war crimes, Bensouda would likely also have to demonstrate a link between the conflict in Afghanistan and US detention policies, which may not be easy; the United States reportedly brought several detainees to Afghanistan from other parts of the world. Perhaps most controversial, the prosecutor's office would have to determine that the United States has failed to address allegations of torture through its own domestic prosecutions, investigations, and reviews.

Moreover, any indictments related to Afghanistan would be months if not years away. Because no ICC member has referred the situation to the court, Bensouda will need the approval of a three-judge panel before launching an investigation. ICC judges have approved all three previous investigative requests from the prosecutor (in Kenya, Cote d’Ivoire, and Georgia), but their review can take several months, and the judges might request additional information before authorizing an investigation.

"Still, the readiness of the prosecutor's office to open an investigation represents a sharp setback for President Barack Obama's administration, which has sought several times to discourage an investigation in Afghanistan and even to avoid ICC mention of possible U.S. crimes," Foreign Policy notes.

And once an investigation is underway, Bennis noted, the ICC prosecutor will be faced with "the question of how far up the chain of command do you go."

"Do you start and stop with the soldier who tortured and abused detainees? This is what happened with Abu Ghraib," Bennis explained. "Individual soldiers were slapped on the wrist. Their commanders who set the standards that said it was okay to humiliate and sexually abuse people, to tie them up naked in a dog collar and take pictures of it—the commander establishes the tone of what their work entailed, but that was never considered."

Bennis observed: "One of the questions that will have to be dealt with by the prosecutor if she decides to go forward is: do you go all the way up? Do you go after George W. Bush for using torture as a part of U.S. strategy?

This report was first published on Common Dreams.

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“Now, after nearly two years of the SIT saying that these records, as per the government of Gujarat’s version, are destroyed, you mentioned when I (Teesta Setalvad) brought this to your attention to be recorded in my 161 statement, that then commissioner of police PC Pande has, after the hon’ble court directed the SIT to go into the report filed by the amicus curiae, thereafter produced the entire documentary record that he had scanned and kept aside before they were ‘destroyed’! You also mentioned that there was 3,500 pages of such evidence which the SIT is now, after nearly two years of the inquiry, examining.

We wish to express, as co-petitioners and co-complainants, our distress and consternation at what we believe is a belated attempt by Shri Pande to save his skin or those of his political bosses, as all this while – including in the report submitted by yourself and Shri Raghavan to the hon’ble Supreme Court – you have maintained that these records have been destroyed. Shri Pande has, we have been given to understand, twice before been examined by the SIT in the Zakiya matter, between May 2009 and May 2010. Surely in the 12-month period he ought to have produced this record that he had so carefully scanned and preserved?

It may be assumed that if the inquiry had not reached this stage i.e. if the hon’ble Supreme Court had not impelled or compelled the SIT to go further, Shri Pande’s sudden and generous manoeuvre would have never happened, that is, the “destroyed” records would have remained buried!

Sir, We were particularly disturbed by your interpretation of the actions of Shri Pande, which seemed to be interpreted as his astute generosity (Shri Pande’s) in actually scanning and producing these records at this belated stage. The following questions arise that we wish to place specifically before you:

1. The timing of the “destroyed” records “reappearing” in the action of Shri PC Pande suddenly handing over the scanned CD of all destroyed documents to you post-March 15, 2011 i.e. the last directions of the hon’ble Supreme Court.
2. Since Shri Pande’s role of collusion in the conspiracy has been specifically alleged, we at least cannot see this either as a stray or innocent act and would therefore urge that a hard, objective inquiry into the previous evasion and suppression of evidence, and thereafter the sudden disclosure, takes place and offences against Shri PC Pande are also registered for the earlier suppression and subsequent disclosure.
3. When a senior officer like Shri Pande states that records are destroyed, in the preliminary inquiry, and thereafter turns up with the vanished documents, what are we to make of this? Similarly, we believe that videos will turn up.
4. Shri Pande’s role in the overall conspiracy and his subsequently being rewarded for his silence and suppression make him liable to be inquired into. His personal assets and accounts and those of his family members as also the assets and accounts of other IPS and IAS officials who have been favoured by the government of Gujarat need to be part of the inquiry.
5. We thought it imperative that this matter be placed on record…

I would like to end by stating that the fresh revelations by Shri Pande amount to an effort by a highly placed officer of not merely attempting a cover-up of his suppression of crucial records for nine-plus years but subverting the inquiries into various cases by not making available these records in the individual trials and thereby committing grave contempt of the judicial process. We would like to state that though partial records in the Gulberg cases (police control room and fire brigade, etc) were made available, this happened only after applications under 173(8) were filed by witnesses and did not logically form part of the charge sheet as they should have done from the very beginning. Why were Shri Pande and other senior officials suppressing these records? Allegations of high-level involvement and complicity have been made by victim survivors since immediately after the incidents. Was this suppression related to protection of the mighty and powerful?”

The SIT in 2010

“The Gujarat government has reportedly destroyed the police wireless communication of the period pertaining to the riots… No records, documentations or minutes of the crucial law and order meetings held by the government during the riots had been kept” (p. 13 of the Preliminary Inquiry Report).

The SIT makes this observation but recommends no action for this criminal act.
 

 
Archived from Communalism Combat, April-May 2012. Year 18, No.165 – Introduction, Gujarat 2002

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Archived from Communalism Combat, November-December 2002 Year 9  No. 81-82, Recommendations, Long Term,

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