According to Barbara Coloroso, genocide and mass murder have accounted for the cruel deaths of an estimated sixty million people in the 20th century alone. She makes her views clear in Extraordinary Evil: there is nothing ordinary or natural about genocide; in fact, it rises to the level of extraordinary, unconscionable evil.
An accomplished lecturer, education expert, and best-selling author, Coloroso sets the scene for the reader by noting that the Genocide Memorial Museum in Kigali, Rwanda, contains a list of various genocides and their human toll (the mathematics of genocide, if you will). Included is a hastily scribbled reference to Darfur with its toll of two hundred thousand (and still counting). But it was not so much the gruesomeness of the murders and their tallies that really shocked her during her visit to the museum. It was the individual pictures and stories surrounding it that made real the horror behind the statistics, she writes.
Her overarching goals for this book are as follows: to examine the causes and consequences of genocide (using the examples of Armenia, Rwanda, and the Holocaust); to try to understand what makes ordinary people capable of butchering children; to highlight the efforts of individuals who endeavour to defend those whose lives are threatened; and, lastly, to put forth a set of conditions for eradicating such evil from the face of the earth.
In elucidating genocide, Coloroso rightly credits the instrumental efforts of Raphael Lemkin, a lawyer who worked tirelessly to have the 1948 UN Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide adopted. Genocide has heretofore been defined as acts committed with intention to destroy in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group . . .
While the author identifies several key aspects of the definition given above, including how one definitively proves intent, and the stage at which mass murder becomes genocide, Coloroso argues that intentionality is key to distinguishing genocide from all the other crimes against humanity.
For her, identifying genocidal activity is the easy part. The hard part, she writes, is mobilising the political will of the community of nation-states to act purposefully when genocidal warning signs are flashing wildly.
Her examination of the three aforementioned genocides leads her to conclude that all three not only share connecting threads and striking parallels, but that each genocide appeared to have set the stage for the next one. One of those threads is the typical masking of genocide under the rubric of war, civil strife, and ethnic hatred-which conveniently provides the international community with a ready-made excuse for not intervening in these human catastrophes.
Viewing genocide as a dispute to be resolved, a rift to be healed, or even as an armed conflict, Coloroso reminds the reader, is to dishonor those who were gassed, hacked with machetes, burned, and butchered by ordinary people systematically and methodically committing acts of extraordinary evil. This is obvious, but worth repeating. Much more controversial is her argument that genocide can be reduced to something akin to schoolyard bullying in its most extreme form. And she adds that the calling cards of those who engage in acts of genocide-a deep-seated hatred, a vicious contempt for others, and a proclivity to devalue other human beings-can be equated to what she characterises as physical, verbal, and more subtle forms of bullying.
For her, then, the roots of genocide must be traced back to early childhood development and the ways in which children are socialised to become bullies. What begins as taunting, mocking, hazing, and humiliation quickly progresses to torture, and then on to mass murder, she declares matter-of-factly.
Coloroso also highlights what she believes to be the conditions that make genocide possible-namely, the passing of dehumanising and discriminatory laws and procedures, peoples unquestioning obedience to a higher authority, and the normalisation of cruelty.
While she acknowledges that there are people who resist, attempting to defend those being persecuted and murdered, and that their stories must be told, she is convinced that there is no such thing as an innocent bystander when it comes to genocide. In her words: They are the supporting cast who aid and abet the bullies through acts of commission and omission.
Using the novel idea of a Bully Circle to shed some light on the various roles of individuals, governments, organisations, and communities in the perpetration of genocide, Coloroso stresses the value of placing each in the circle and listening to their cathartic stories. Accordingly, there is a sprinkling of gruesome and heart-rending accounts from eyewitnesses, involving the crimes perpetrated in Poland, Armenia, and Rwanda.
For Coloroso, the bystanders (especially the international community) have a critical role to play once the curtain rises on genocide and its aftermath. To stand by rather than stand up, to turn away rather than come to the aid of those who are targeted, or to refuse to get involved because it is not in our national interest is to rend the fabric of our humanity and tear apart our sense of community, she writes. And as if the world needed to be reminded once again, she emphasises that the genocide in Darfur is not just beginning its rehearsals, it is nearing its closing act.
In her concluding chapter, Coloroso highlights the need for communities to be restored and for any notions of us and them and I and it to be banished from peoples minds. And genocide victims, she goes on to write, must find a way to gradually let go of the internalised poison of hate and revenge if they are ever to heal.
As for the seemingly intractable issue of genocide prevention, she suggests studying the actions of those who participated in, and those who resisted, these crimes. Coloroso is also interested in gleaning valuable insights from the conditions under which people are transformed from ordinary citizens into a horde capable of committing extraordinary evil.
Additionally, there is a need to create conditions in communities (and the entire community of nation-states) that will strengthen inhibitions against such violence and nurture those bonds that connect us, one to another. Forestalling genocide, argues Coloroso, will require locating a balance between our individual uniqueness and common human bonds-or what she describes as creating communities of caring.
While Extraordinary Evil is engaging and sometimes moving, it is not without its shortcomings. At times, the narrative comes across as a tad disjointed and the reader is confused by the authors examples, interchangeably used, from the three genocide case studies.
Another glaring weakness is the lack of solid political analysis and in-depth explanation. Coloroso, for instance, points out that the clarion call of Never Again has been reduced to little more than a hollow public relations slogan. Fair enough. But she doesnt explain how and why this occurred. Nor does she tell us why ordinary citizens-let alone state governments-are not galvanised to act by the colossal tragedy of uncovered genocide.
Lastly, she argues that bullies can quickly become mindless mass murderers. Perhaps, but its hard to see a concrete correlation between the two. Surely others-who are not bullies-are capable of partaking in mass slaughter.
But Coloroso hits the mark when she argues that we all need to stand up to acts of genocide and mass murder if we want them to end. In her words: When individuals, families, communities, and nations stand up to it, leaders will no longer find support for the complicity that enables it. Alas, the decimated people of Darfur, she tells us repeatedly, are still waiting.
Peter McKenna (Books in Canada)
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.