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Act on 'never again'
By Lee Bycel
Los Angeles Daily News
Nov 24 2004
The Rwandan genocide, the Armenian genocide, the Holocaust - in the
wake of these and other catastrophes of the 20th century, we have
vowed, "Never again." The phrase is resolute and absolute.
But it can also be empty. It prescribes nothing. In terms of action
and commitment, it is silent. And silence - to say nothing and do
nothing while the innocent perish - is genocide's prescription.
The term "genocide" was coined exactly 60 years ago by Raphael Lemkin,
in "Axis Rule in Occupied Europe," published in November 1944 with the
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. He defined the term as
"a coordinated plan of different actions aiming at the destruction
of essential foundations of the life of national groups, with the
aim of annihilating the groups themselves."
Whether the ongoing catastrophe in Darfur, Sudan, will rise (or sink)
to that definition, history will judge. It will judge our silence
as well.
I recently returned from a humanitarian mission to three refugee camps
in Chad, on the border of Darfur. These camps teem with people who have
somehow survived unfathomable suffering: husbands and fathers murdered;
wives and daughters raped; death from malaria, cholera and dysentery;
villages and lives burned to ashes. Life in the refugee camps is its
own hell, thick with the trauma and travail of those whose living eyes
can still see the dead. The camps bear witness to the darkest regions
of human degradation. There, the words "Never again" are a tragic,
empty echo.
The refugees in Chad and Darfur are abstractions when you see them
in the newspaper, but they are quite real in person, and not much
different from you and me. They happen to be victims of ethnic
cleansing and terror. They happen to have no resources. But they
yearn, as we do, for the warmth of a smile, for the touch of a caring
hand. What we consider the requirements of life are unimaginable
luxuries to them. They are desperate for our help. If only we were
as desperate to help them.
Unless the words "never again" are translated into action, their
echo is painfully hollow. Action on this scale can seem hopeless,
but we are not helpless: writing letters, making contributions,
getting involved in advocacy groups - these activities are near to
hand, and they multiply powerfully. Not everyone can give their whole
lives to such work, like the remarkable volunteers from around the
world I was privileged to meet in Chad. But that does not prevent a
more personal transformation on the part of each of us.
When we recognize that our humanity is inextricably linked to theirs,
the refugees of Darfur are no longer an abstraction that fades from
view. Awareness of their existence fosters an examination of our own.
It changes our approach to life, what we consume, what we think we
need and deserve. "Never again" is ultimately a personal challenge:
What can I do to erase Lemkin's "genocide" from the dictionary?
Nor should we forget that "Never again" speaks to our self-interest.
Neglect of the dispossessed and disenfranchised can have devastating
consequences: political instability, deepening ethnic conflicts,
devastating famines and wars - any of which can rapidly darken our
own skies. All of humanity, the most and least fortunate alike, sleep
under the same sky, wake to the same sun, and cherish the same hopes
for their children.
"Never again" is an urgent call to each of us. Will we answer?
--- Rabbi Lee Bycel, a Tarzana resident, is former dean of Hebrew
Union College - Jewish Institute of Religion. He moderates leadership
seminars at The Aspen Institute.
By Lee Bycel
Los Angeles Daily News
Nov 24 2004
The Rwandan genocide, the Armenian genocide, the Holocaust - in the
wake of these and other catastrophes of the 20th century, we have
vowed, "Never again." The phrase is resolute and absolute.
But it can also be empty. It prescribes nothing. In terms of action
and commitment, it is silent. And silence - to say nothing and do
nothing while the innocent perish - is genocide's prescription.
The term "genocide" was coined exactly 60 years ago by Raphael Lemkin,
in "Axis Rule in Occupied Europe," published in November 1944 with the
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. He defined the term as
"a coordinated plan of different actions aiming at the destruction
of essential foundations of the life of national groups, with the
aim of annihilating the groups themselves."
Whether the ongoing catastrophe in Darfur, Sudan, will rise (or sink)
to that definition, history will judge. It will judge our silence
as well.
I recently returned from a humanitarian mission to three refugee camps
in Chad, on the border of Darfur. These camps teem with people who have
somehow survived unfathomable suffering: husbands and fathers murdered;
wives and daughters raped; death from malaria, cholera and dysentery;
villages and lives burned to ashes. Life in the refugee camps is its
own hell, thick with the trauma and travail of those whose living eyes
can still see the dead. The camps bear witness to the darkest regions
of human degradation. There, the words "Never again" are a tragic,
empty echo.
The refugees in Chad and Darfur are abstractions when you see them
in the newspaper, but they are quite real in person, and not much
different from you and me. They happen to be victims of ethnic
cleansing and terror. They happen to have no resources. But they
yearn, as we do, for the warmth of a smile, for the touch of a caring
hand. What we consider the requirements of life are unimaginable
luxuries to them. They are desperate for our help. If only we were
as desperate to help them.
Unless the words "never again" are translated into action, their
echo is painfully hollow. Action on this scale can seem hopeless,
but we are not helpless: writing letters, making contributions,
getting involved in advocacy groups - these activities are near to
hand, and they multiply powerfully. Not everyone can give their whole
lives to such work, like the remarkable volunteers from around the
world I was privileged to meet in Chad. But that does not prevent a
more personal transformation on the part of each of us.
When we recognize that our humanity is inextricably linked to theirs,
the refugees of Darfur are no longer an abstraction that fades from
view. Awareness of their existence fosters an examination of our own.
It changes our approach to life, what we consume, what we think we
need and deserve. "Never again" is ultimately a personal challenge:
What can I do to erase Lemkin's "genocide" from the dictionary?
Nor should we forget that "Never again" speaks to our self-interest.
Neglect of the dispossessed and disenfranchised can have devastating
consequences: political instability, deepening ethnic conflicts,
devastating famines and wars - any of which can rapidly darken our
own skies. All of humanity, the most and least fortunate alike, sleep
under the same sky, wake to the same sun, and cherish the same hopes
for their children.
"Never again" is an urgent call to each of us. Will we answer?
--- Rabbi Lee Bycel, a Tarzana resident, is former dean of Hebrew
Union College - Jewish Institute of Religion. He moderates leadership
seminars at The Aspen Institute.