This week I found myself equally as nonchalant as everyone else in Northern Ireland when I heard of the crescendo of security threats from various corners of the region. However, I feel I would be flogging a dead horse if I decided to dedicate my next blog to this subject. Instead I find myself thinking of that elusive category of people, both alive and long gone, that we call ‘victims’. For it is this lifelong label that has attached itself to so many innocent and carefree civilians throughout our nation’s past and present that leaves us so unwilling to talk about the subject. In an attempt, then, to draw a different perspective, I will approach this subject from another angle – one that is very close to my particular legal interests – enforced disappearances.

To many people, this phrase will mean very little. But to a great many more, it signifies one of the most grave human rights violations capable of being committed by a State actor. This anomaly has its origins in the military juntas of Latin America beginning in the 1950s but popularised and rendered systematic by the Argentinian and Chilean regimes of the 1970s. For most, the image that comes to mind when we speak of this anomaly is that of the Gestapo from Nazi Germany appearing at the door of a house to remove a father, a son, a wife, for reasons unknown but generally justified as the silencing of political opponents or other undesirables. The consequence is that they are removed from daily life, removed from the protection of the law and resigned to a perpetual state of uncertainty. The victim essentially vanishes. This is only to outline the sheer hopelessness likely to be felt by the victim himself and does not even consider the effects on the victim’s family, most of whom will take their hopes, fears and questions to the grave.

I recently attended a conference at the European University Institute in Florence which focussed on the problems facing the international community when tackling this grievous crime. One hotly-debated issue was the extent to which non-state actors, rather than just states themselves, fall under the purview of international criminal courts when they have “disappeared” individuals. The debate sparked an interest within me given the obvious connotations this would have on paramilitary organisations which so often play a leading role in countries divided by internal conflict. The obvious examples are the IRA and the INLA who, between them, have admitted to disappearing 14 out of the 16 individuals who are posthumously collectivised as ‘The Disappeared’.

Recent news stories concerning The Disappeared focus on failed excavations, on Gerry Adams’ alleged involvement in the abductions and on the likely effects of the Haass talks on victims’ campaigns for the truth. However, families of The Disappeared represent only a fraction of those who continue to suffer from the aftermath of the Troubles. The truth is that all victims are still the David in this battle against Goliath. Despite all the well-meaning sentiments from politicians, diplomats and, of course, the Historical Enquiries Team, families always come out the loser. This blog will explore why.

The first hurdle faced by victims, which is also true of victims in the legal sense, is whether or not they truly are to be defined as ‘victims’. A circular debate has been taking place since 1998 regarding the exact nature of ‘victimhood’ for the purposes of addressing the past. Politicians from both sides of the political divide have thrown their own interpretative veils over the definition itself. Without simplifying the argument too much, and in the hope of avoiding becoming mired in this debate, the issue has often come down to applying either a narrow or a more “all-inclusive” approach to victim status. Unionists have historically favoured a strict interpretation of victimhood as applying to innocent civilians, their families and, indeed, members of the security forces and their next-of-kin. To put is simply again, nationalist and republicans have often extended this category to recognise the victim status of those involved in paramilitary activities, their families and perhaps even “society” as a collective whole. The critical eye can see two very diametric interpretations of transitional justice and reconciliation in these two views. Whatever the correct interpretation, it remains that such a fundamental stumbling block as this one, leaves victims, whoever they may be, at an immediate disadvantage when seeking the truth. To have a campaign for justice automatically rendered null and void by reason of not being a ‘real’ victim can only muddy the waters as far as victims’ rights are concerned. This is one issue which must be addressed before further progress can be made.

The second major issue surrounds the inadequacy of judicial structures whose sole purpose it is to find truth and meaning for victims behind all the bitterness and political whimsy. The institution which often comes into the firing line is the Historical Enquiries Team, set up in 2005 to review some 3,200 Troubles deaths. A quick search will reveal that the HET website is “currently under construction”, which itself encapsulates the stunted growth of the organisation since its inception.

All trivialities aside, a 2009 Freedom of Information request revealed that 600 case reviews had been completed at that time out of a possible 1,400 which had been commenced. Since then, however, the body has been accused of bias towards victims and partiality given that it receives funding from the police financial reserves. Most recently, the NI Policing Board commented, in the wake of a damning report on the HET, that they have “no confidence in the leadership of the Historical Enquiries Team”. Shortly afterwards, the HET Director, Dave Cox, resigned effective from September. The problems facing the HET, then, have certainly undermined its credibility as an institution that is tasked with dealing with the past.

In spite of this, I could not be more certain of the need for such an institution (whether that is the HET in its current form or another body) that all political sides are able to support and whose findings carry authority and the potential for further reconciliation. Instead, what is currently in place seems too inefficient and disrespected to exercise what little authority is has left. This, however, is not for a want of good intentions. In fact, it is the lack of political will to address “issues of the past” which has secured the fate of the HET. The Haass talks, which appear to have the cooperation of the main political actors, seem to have provided the first hope in many years that politicians will at last grasp this nettle. Despite this, much of the work lies ahead rather than behind.

Victims in Northern Ireland have always had their advocates. The region will never suffer from a lack of victims groups and campaigns designed to remind politicians and communities of the plight of thousands of families in this small jurisdiction. What Northern Ireland does lack are politicians with the long-term expediency to recognise the importance of truth and reconciliation in moving Northern Ireland away from its past. Regardless of budgetary restrictions and political postulating, this should always be at the forefront of our governments’ mind. A failed education policy here or a scandal in the health department there will have a fleeting impact on society but victimhood is a lifelong struggle. This struggle is one that victims have no choice in fighting but which post-conflict societies such as ours can and should decide to pursue vigorously. As this blog shows, there is an uphill struggle ahead for victims but one which could be made all the more easy with political sensitivity and maturity.