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The Pinochet Precedent: Who Could be Arrested Next?
Interviews by Marguerite Feitlowitz

 

Human rights experts roundly agree that Augusto Pinochet's 1998 arrest in London has made for a "new moment," a "turning point," "a whole new calculus for transnational justice." Yet the climate remains volatile, marked by unprecedented legal advances as well as dramatic setbacks.

One landmark case embraces both extremes. In February 2000, Chad's former tyrant, Hissein Habre, was arrested in Senegal where, since his ouster, he has been living in exile. A direct consequence of the Pinochet precedent, this was the first time that an African leader was charged with human rights abuses by the court of another African nation. Moreover, the case was brought by victims — survivors of torture, death squads, and terror — who traveled to Dakar in order to testify in court. Hailed by African human rights groups as "the most important [court] case in Senegal's history," the arrest was later overturned by another court, and the judges involved in the earlier decision were fired.

In August 2000, two Argentine "Dirty Warriors" were arrested while traveling abroad. Ricardo Miguel Cavallo was detained in Mexico on August 24 after Baltasar Garzon, the same Spanish judge who initiated the prosecution of Pinochet, issued an extradition request on charges of torture, murder, and participation in genocide. The former naval officer was known as "Serpico" (for his resemblance to Al Pacino) when he worked at the Navy Mechanics School--often called the "Argentine Auschwitz" or the "Harvard of Death" — where he was famous both for executing and teaching the art of torture. France too has called for Cavallo's extradition, in connection with the torture and deaths in the Navy Mechanics School of fifteen French nationals, including two nuns, Alice Domon and Leonie Duquet. Mexico is expected to comply with these requests for extradition, a process that should take about eighteen months.

The Italian arrest of Jorge Olivera, a retired Argentine army major, soon became a bizarre legal theatrical. Detained in Rome on August 6 on a French extradition request for the torture and forced disappearance of a French citizen in Argentina in 1976, Olivera was released on September 18 on the basis of a highly suspicious document, soon found to be have been faked by Olivera and his associates. In order to circumvent the fact that cases of forced disappearance have no statute of limitation in international human rights law, Olivera (who is also a lawyer) presented a supposed death certificate for Marie Anne Erize, the French woman he is accused of kidnapping and torturing, and whose body has never been found. By the time the document was proven to be false, Olivera had been flown back to Argentina, where he has legal immunity for atrocities committed during the dictatorship. In Italy, the two judges who released him are under investigation. In the Buenos Aires suburb where he lives, Olivera was officially declared Persona Non Grata; human rights and citizens groups have spray-painted Asesino! Torturador! on the front of his house. Human rights groups are studying ways to bring this miscarriage of justice to an international tribunal.

How best to confront such dynamism has become a heated legal, moral, and political issue. The experts consulted for this article disagree, sometimes starkly, on optics, emphases, and preferred courses of action.

Only when asked to compile a working list of former heads of state vulnerable to international arrest in the wake of the Pinochet precedent, did our experts widely concur. For most of the respondents, the magnitude and scale of atrocities were decisive factors in their selections:

IDI AMIN IN 1979 LIAISION
Idi Amin [de facto president of Uganda, 1971-1979], for the scale of his general brutality, purging of the Lango and Acholi tribes, and expulsion of the country's entire Asian population. It is believed that over 300,000 perished in his bloody reign of terror. He is living under official protection in Saudi Arabia. When Human Rights inquired of a Saudi ambassador about the possibility of extraditing him for prosecution, he was told that such an action would violate "Bedouin hospitality."

MILTON OBOTE
Milton Obote, president of Uganda (1980-85), for continued brutality and repression on a scale that some believe to exceed that of Idi Amin. He lives in Zambia.
ALFREDO STROESSER OF PARAGUY /AFP

Alfredo Stroessner, military dictator of Paraguay, (1954-1989), for forced disappearances, torture, political killings. Stroessner lives in Brazil. Because of his participation in the [largely CIA-financed] Condor Plan, along with Pinochet and the regimes in Argentina, Brazil, Uruguay, and Bolivia, a great deal of information is potentially available. And there is important human rights work now being done in Paraguay by survivors, relatives of the missing, and other activists.

1

Jean-Claude "Baby Doc" Duvalier, president of Haiti (1971-1986), for kidnapping, torture, and the Tonton Macoute death squads. He is living in seclusion in a villa in France, enjoying a lifestyle paid for through decades of systematic corruption.

MENGISTU HAILE MRIAM OF ETHOPIA 79, /Liasion

Mengistu Haile Miriam, dictator of Ethiopia (1971-1991), for brutality and political killings, especially in Eritrea, and the war and famine in Somalia. He lives under protection in Zimbabwe, in spite of Ethiopia's requests that he be extradited to stand trial.

RAOUL CEDRAS IN 1980 /AP

Raoul Cedrás and Philippe Biamby, for their role in the bloody 1991 coup against Haiti's elected president, Jean-Bertrand Aristide, and for torture and mass political murder during their dictatorship. When Aristide was restored to the presidency, Cedrás and Biamby were granted protection by Panama, where they still live. Panama has refused Human Rights Watch's request for extradition or prosecution, on the grounds that it would set a bad precedent to reverse an offer of asylum.

 

The Experts

Steven R. Ratner
Steven R. Ratner is a Professor of International Law, University of Texas at Austin Law School.

Michael Ratner
Michael Ratner is the Former Legal Director, Center for Constitutional Rights, and an international human rights litigator.

Bruce Broomhall
Bruce Broomhall is the International Justice Coordinator, Lawyers Committee for Human Rights, New York.

Reed Brody
Reed Brody is the Director of Global Advocacy, Human Rights Watch, New York.

William Bourdon
William Bourdon is the Secretary-General of the International Federation of Human Rights, Paris

Tom Blanton
Tom Blanton is the Executive Director of the National Security Archive, Washington, D.C.



Steven R. Ratner
Professor of International Law, University of Texas at Austin Law School.

At this time, the obvious candidates outside the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda — where the list is long — fall into two categories: first, those exile from their home, especially Stroessner, Duvalier, Mengistu, Hissein Habre, Amin, and Cedras; and second, those still enjoying impunity at home, e.g., senior Khmer Rouge leaders, Rios-Montt in Guatemala, and Pinochet. All could be charged with crimes against humanity, as well as torture as an independent crime, over which there is universal jurisdiction. I assume their chief aides could also be charged.

The only options for international prosecutions are in third states, creation of a new UN (or regional) tribunal, or the internationalization of a domestic trial. There are blockages to trial in third states, since all dictators in exile were given assurances that they would not be tried or returned home. As for a new international tribunal, don't bet on it. As for internationalization of a domestic trial through foreign judges or prosecutors, the UN is attempting to do that with Cambodia; we'll see what happens. If it works, I could imagine other countries asking the UN for help.

In response to your question, Senator Jesse Helms is right when he says that anyone with political enemies could be arrested. But there are strong political barriers to a third state investigating these abuses and making arrest requests; the danger, however, is underenforcement, not overenforcement. I thus think that Helms vastly overstates the danger, though one can always make the claim that some loose-cannon prosecutor could investigate and arrange for anyone's arrest, and it's not a trivial point. I also think there are big moral questions about the ability of an outside state (as opposed to a UN tribunal) to upset the decision of a home state to shield people from prosecution via amnesty. It's not a black-and-white issue of accountability vs. impunity.

I still think that, even though there are cases where states should probably not exercise it, universal jurisdiction is both a reality and a good thing.

Steven R. Ratner is a Professor of International Law, University of Texas at Austin Law School.


Michael Ratner

Former Legal Director, Center for Constitutional Rights


Third-party criminal prosecutions are the only way that international justice doesn't get controlled by the superpowers, which is to say, by the United States and the UN (with U.S. veto on the Security Council). Of course, it isn't foolproof, and there's a little chaos, but it's a reasonable price to pay. It gives middle-range countries — like Spain, for example — the opportunity to prosecute for international justice. Even with the ICC, which will have staffing and organizational limitations, we'll still need these third-party prosecutions. It's important that prosecutions show even-handedness; they mustn't just be aimed at enemies of the West.

In terms of how best to constitute a "most wanted" list, I'm not unwilling to go after the big guys, but I do feel strongly that we need to go after the powers behind these tyrants. The Pinochet case has implicated the CIA and others, for example, and that is to the good. We don't want justice to be skewed — we're the good guys, they're the bad guys. These situations tend to be very complicated: Habre had U.S. and French support, even though he propped up Qaddafi. We need to unmask the system behind the repression. These histories are often long and complex. So let me briefly mention some cases that call out for prosecution:

  1. Operation Phoenix, during which the CIA and U.S. military murdered 60,000 - 120,000 village headmen, on the belief that they were Viet Cong sympathizers. There were no investigations, no trials, these men were just taken out and shot. This whole thing has been buried.
  2. Guatemala: a clear case of genocide against at least 160,000 Indians. [President] Clinton apologized, which is excellent, but I would still go after the two or three CIA station chiefs in Guatemala at the time.
  3. Toto Constant should be prosecuted. He's working in a real-estate office in Queens. In fact, there's to be a demonstration in front of the place soon.
  4. Former President Ronald Reagan, for what the World Court ruled were "crimes against the peace" in Nicaragua.
  5. A law student of mine has researched bringing a case against [Henry] Kissinger for his responsibility in the Indonesian invasion of East Timor, and for planning the bombing of Cambodia, and the Christmas bombing of Viet Nam.

Will any of these prosecutions come to pass? It's hard to say. But that doesn't mean we should overlook atrocious crimes.

Civil actions are a wonderful recourse in cases of torture, forced disappearance, and other crimes against humanity. Since the early 1980s, we have brought well over a dozen such cases [with the Center for Constitutional Rights and the Yale International Human Rights Law Clinic]. In the 1980s we won a multi-million civil suit against Hector Gramajo [the Guatemalan general implicated in the torture and murder of thousands of Kanjobal Indians]. Gramajo himself said publicly, "I killed over thirty per cent of the people." But even liberals at the time said, 'Michael, you're wrong on this one.' Gramajo was studying at [Harvard's John F.] Kennedy School [of Government], was invited to speak at the SOA [School of the Americas]. Well, that stopped. He didn't get invited places anymore. And he is barred from entering the United States, because he was shown to be a terrorist.

In the 1980s, there was no other way to really attack U.S. foreign policy. And we did so with civil actions against U.S.-backed torturers in Nicaragua, El Salvador, Guatemala, and elsewhere. In 1994, I accompanied President Aristide back to Haiti where, over the next year, Reed Brody and I helped him prosecute human rights violators.

There are of course significant differences between criminal and civil prosecutions. Only the U.S. (and maybe Belgium and France) allows these cases. So again, it's 'us' judging 'them.' But it's better than nothing. At the same time, however, it is not easy to sue U.S. officials.

On the other hand, an aggrieved individual can initiate a civil action without state cooperation, and according to fairly traditional notions of torte. It is rare to actually collect a settlement, but it is nonetheless important on several levels for the victims: it is healing; it brings acknowledgment of their plight; and it gets the information out there. There are also collateral benefits: it is often a critique of U.S. policy; and the defendants are 'branded,' Gramajo being a perfect case in point.

So while civil actions are not coercive, there's no jail, and the defendant need not be present, there are other advantages. They are much less expensive and difficult than criminal prosecutions, and that is no mere detail.

We are without doubt in a new legal moment. Many individuals are afraid to travel, for one thing. They have been made to understand the legitimacy of their being prosecuted. The Torture Convention has been seen to mean no exemptions for former heads of state. The message has been heard: You cannot do these things to people, and just walk away. Even if you have protection in your own country, that's no guarantee. Chile did not fall apart, as was commonly said at the beginning of Pinochet's time in England. In fact, the opposite has happened; who would have dreamed that Chile would now be prosecuting its own ex-tyrant? Countries have also been made to understand that their signatures on human rights treaties and conventions have meaning; they represent real commitments. And perhaps most important of all: the general public now has knowledge of the conventions, of the history, and many have expressed a sense of outrage over the crimes committed [by Pinochet]. We have heard the collective cry that these crimes are absolutely unacceptable.

Michael Ratner is the Former Legal Director, Center for Constitutional Rights and international human rights litigator.


Bruce Broomhall
International Justice Coordinator, Lawyer's Committee for Human Rights


I don't think in terms of lists, I don't think about who we should pursue. I look at this in purely legal terms: we need to clarify and advance legislation. Governments need to perceive these cases as legitimate, driven by legal--not political or vindictive--factors. The process must be transparent, accessible to all, and open to critique.

So I approach the issue more conceptually: we must open a legal space in which these atrocities can be addressed, adjudicated. We want to move these cases outside the normal calculus of diplomacy and politics. In this regard, if the ICC had been up and running, it would have saved Jack Straw a lot of trouble. Countries could offload politically hot issues, but they need to be confident that there are rules and safety valves. The message must be unambiguous: legality is the prime concern, and certain acts, like torture and genocide, are simply beyond the pale. With universal jurisdiction, it doesn't matter if you are a head of state, or former head of state; if the charges are solid, and the evidence is credible, you will be vulnerable to prosecution. Like anyone else.

The [1998] Rome Statute [which laid the groundwork for the ICC] and Pinochet's arrest definitely marked a new legal moment. For one thing, it showed how much is not in place, not only in terms of legal structures, but knowledge, training of lawyers and others. A whole series of projects got underway on universal jurisdiction, for example. At The Lawyers Committee on Human Rights, we have been doing seminars on the subject in the context of the ICC, and it's been instructive to see how much confusion there is, especially in regions of conflict. The initial reaction, particularly, though not exclusively, among military officers, is that universal jurisdiction is illegitimate, forever attached to politics. In our seminars, the military participants are initially suspicious, even hostile. But after about two days, I tend to find that their views have softened. They come to see that the ICC is fraught with concessions, and that universal jurisdiction is not what they thought it was.

It is true that in many countries, prosecutors are under quite tight political control. This is something the ICC can remedy. Another major misapprehension we see is that the ICC will fatally undermine sovereignty, interfere with democracy. It's imperative to make the distinction between autonomy and sovereignty in an international context in which, again, certain acts are simply inadmissible: by ratifying human rights treaties, incorporating universal jurisdiction into domestic legislation, and approving the ICC, states will have consented to participate in a rigorous, transparent system of international justice.

It is also important to understand the military position. And here we come to a question of culture, the need for consciousness-raising on both sides. Perhaps the biggest issue is that military and police are often charged with maintaining internal security. And military people argue, in good faith, that there are certain exigencies that go with the job, that in order to maintain order in difficult places, they need a margin of leeway.

We need to consider when impunity and amnesty might be legitimate; when a truth and reconciliation commission might be a sufficient legal process. This whole thing is about a slow, coming-to-understanding of the law.

It will take a couple of decades. But that's how history works. We need precedents to establish the norm that certain actions will not be tolerated; we must demonstrate that the process is driven by legal concerns and constrained by legal structures.

The Pinochet arrest was extremely important, in itself, and in terms of its effects in Chile. And even though it has had a fatal setback, Habre's arrest is a huge victory. We may now see progress in domestic law reform in Senegal. In fact, the failure itself may prove to be the impetus for reform. That this is happening below the Sahara is trememdously important. Let it be noted that Senegal was the first country to ratify the ICC.

Ultimately, the real work will be done in domestic forums. The ICC will only be able to try about twenty cases a year. It simply won't have the capacity to do more. So the crucial link to be forged is between international and domestic law.

Bruce Broomhall is the International Justice Coordinator, Lawyers Committee for Human Rights, New York.


Reed Brody
Director of Global Advocacy, Human Rights Watch

It's essential to distinguish between political responsibility and direct criminal responsibility. To say that Henry Kissinger supported Pinochet, helped him get into power and stay there while atrocities were going on is one thing. That is not necessarily a crime under international law. We do have to examine political responsibility — it's not enough to go after Pinochet without also examining the U.S. role in Chile, or to go after Habre without also studying the political role played by France and the U.S.. But direct criminal responsibility under international law must be proven. If it is, then the individuals in question should be called to account.

As we look over the list, there are numerous instances where tyrants have been granted asylum or safe passage out of their own country. Sometimes it's pure cynicism, indifference, and realpolitik, and sometimes it's done to stop the bleeding. Mengistu originally went to Zimbabwe because Jimmy Carter arranged it, to keep him from doing further harm. But, by and large, history shows that these guys leave when their time is up, when their support at home is evaporating. These individuals who amass great power, history shows us they fall.

In terms of "gettability," I would say that, of those on the list, Stroessner has the most to worry about. In May 1999, Human Rights Watch started talking to groups in Brazil, notably with Marcos Bilim, head of the Human Rights Committee in the National Assembly. That parliamentary Committee drafted a request for Brazil to prosecute Stroessner. There hasn't yet been a response [from the courts], but the idea has been articulated, the seed has been sown.

We don't exclude the possibility of prosecuting lower-ranking criminals against humanity. Heads of state are not the sole perpetrators of these atrocities, which have no statute of limitations. If we were to prosecute a police captain, for example, that would send a message to a whole class of individuals. In fact, Human Rights Watch considered prosecuting a Turkish police officer who periodically travels to Germany to visit his cousin. He could be arrested there. But, after consulting with human rights professionals in Turkey, we realized that the action would backfire. It would provoke a huge wave of Turkish nationalism, and very likely a backlash against Turks in Germany. So we decided not to pursue that case.

While prosecutions must not be politically motivated, we feel it's important to bring cases that create political consensus, cases where the victims, and the citizens of the country where the crimes were committed, are strongly behind the action. That is why Human Rights Watch was so interested in the Habre case: it was the first transnational human rights prosecution in Africa, the first south-south case, if you will. It is important to break the paradigm of northern colonial powers judging the south. Moreover, this case was brought by victims, who traveled to Senegal — where Habre has lived since 1990 — in order to testify.

It was devastating when in July 2000 Senegalese courts dropped the charges against Habre, in a move that was clearly politically engineered. Habre is once again secure in his country of exile. Still, even when prosecutions fail to culminate in convictions, they nonetheless have an important effect. To quote Louise Arbour, 'it makes the world a smaller place for these people.' They cannot move about freely. Habre will not be leaving Senegal any time soon. The effort to prosecute him is tremendously important, because all of the previous precedents have been in Europe.

In contemplating the relative merits of criminal vs. civil prosecutions, civil cases can only be brought in the U.S., if I'm not mistaken. Criminal cases require the daunting mechanism of the state, and so can be harder to get off the ground. The Pinochet and Habre criminal prosecutions were exceptions, in that they were brought originally by victims [not governments].

Criminal prosecutions are more punitive. It's justice. If we don't prosecute, impunity creates contempt for the law. Unless we prosecute, the law will never enter the calculus of repression. Prosecuting is not only about the past. It's about the future. It's saying, 'Today's it's Pinochet, tomorrow it could be you.'

Reed Brody is the Director of Global Advocacy, Human Rights Watch, New York


William Bourdon
Secretary-General of the International Federation of Human Rights

(Mr. Bourdon and I corresponded, via e-mail, in French. His comments appear below, in my translation. — MF)

It is important to emphasize that virtually all of the predictions made at the beginning of Augusto Pinochet's arrest in London on October 16, 1998, were proven wrong. In Chile, many political figures — and not just those from the conservative camp — implored London to release Pinochet out of fear that there would be a civil war or, at the very least, a destabilization of democracy. Exactly the opposite happened.

For their part, international human rights organizations and other observers held that it was absolutely impossible to ever prosecute Pinochet in Chile. Exactly the opposite happened. In fact, what we saw was a kind of virtuous boomerang effect, in which European judges awakened their Chilean peers to the vigor of international law, impelling them, in effect, to reclaim their natural prerogatives.

So the Pinochet Affair cleared the way for very significant political effects.

The conceptual developments are much less spectacular, when we bear in mind that the Nuremberg Tribunal already established that no one, regardless of official position, is exempt from prosecution for crimes against humanity. Louise Arbour [Chief Prosecutor, International War Crimes Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia] confirmed this when, on May 24, 1999, she issued international arrest orders for five individuals, including Slobodan Milosevic, President of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia.

The real conceptual leap will come when a criminal head of state, traveling on government business and/or at the invitation of a foreign chief executive, can be arrested by a domestic judge, rather than by an international tribunal. This eventuality, articulated in Article 27 of the Statute of the International Criminal Court, is met today with great resistance.

A direct legal consequence of Pinochet's detention was the February 2000 arrest in Dakar of Chad's ex-dictator, Hissein Habre. [According to a 1992 Truth Commission, Habre's regime is responsible for 400,000 political murders and 200,000 counts of torture.] The [July 4] reversal of charges by the Chambre d'Accusation [Indicting Chamber] was a terrible setback; it remains to be seen whether the Cours de Cassation [Court of Appeals] will uphold that bad decision. In the present climate, it would take a great deal of courage for those judges to reinstate the charges.

The very incarnation of despotism and dictatorship in Africa, is Laurent Kabila, president of the Democratic Republic of Congo. There is no doubt but that he should be charged with torture, forced disappearance, crimes against humanity.

We must bear in mind that certain obstacles to international criminal prosecutions derive from the human rights culture we are trying to protect. For example, many NGOs oppose capital punishment and therefore must withdraw or withhold arrest orders if the tyrant would be subject to violence upon return to his native country. That is exactly the case with Mengistu, who would be executed if he were returned to Ethiopia.

A second obstacle is that the most serious crimes are often covered up through political alliances with other countries. This helps explain the resistance we saw in France 1995-96 to prosecuting some of the men responsible for the Rwandan genocide. Even though these individuals had fled to French territory and were clearly vulnerable under the UN Torture Convention, France did nothing. The fact is, certain French services had been involved in Rwandan affairs, with support at the highest levels.

A third obstacle is what we might call 'judicial chauvinsm.' In most countries — and I'm by no means excluding Europe — judges find it difficult to acknowledge the primacy of international law. They are still unfamiliar with the newest juridical developments related to the fight against impunity. Even if things have evolved in France and a few other countries, there is still a great deal to be done in terms of education, so that magistrates and judges will be up to date.

The fourth obstacle has to do with the lack of harmony between the judicial systems of different countries (a difficulty clearly demonstrated in the Pinochet prosecution.) This problem should essentially be solved by establishment of the International Criminal Court.

The most difficult task for an NGO, or any human rights organization, is how to establish a list of prosecutable crimes. Although suffering is universal, not all crimes are subject to universal jurisdiction. We must limit ourselves to those offenses that are clearly defined in ratified human rights treaties and conventions. The ICC Statute cites genocide (in Article 6), crimes against humanity (Article 7), war crimes (Article 8). My personal conviction is that we must make the best possible use of existing texts and legislation. It is morally reprehensible to lead victims to believe that everything is possible. In this regard, it must be said that the Pinochet case occasionally fueled unrealistic hopes.

I think that NGOs have a triple responsibility:

  1. To be rigorous in their calls for, and execution of, international arrests, so that the process is not undermined by politics or ideology.
  2. To help the "forgotten" victims of crimes against humanity break their silence. There are numerous ways to do this. In response to the atrocities committed in Sierra Leone, the Security Council has approved in principle the establishment of a Mixed International Tribunal, to be located in a neighboring country, and composed of magistrates from various nations. It is to be hoped that the victims of the crimes committed in Liberia will see a similar execution of justice.
  3. To discourage Nations from interpreting human rights conventions in an overly restrictive and reductive way. To encourage more modern readings that will lead to a more ambitious pursuit of justice. As an example: in the Pinochet prosecution, Judge Bartle interpreted forced disappearance as an act of torture. That is not explicitly articulated in the UN Torture Convention, nor is it universally accepted at the international level. But one day it will be.

In spite of personal trauma, legal difficulties, and political complications, let it be said that all of the international human rights prosecutions pending in France, Switzerland, and Belgium have been brought, not by the Court, but by victims.

William Bourdon is the Secretary General of the International Federation of Human Rights, Paris.


Tom Blanton
Executive Director of the National Security Archive, Washington, D.C.


The list itself brings us to the interesting question about the ways in which many of these criminals find protection. Various countries are complicit here, as we have seen. I would advocate taking a rigorous look at the United States National Security Act of 1947, and its so-called "100 persons" provision, which allows us, every year, to bring in and shelter 100 individuals considered to be assets to our intelligence operations. Living here under that law is Haiti's Toto Constant. A small-fry compared to Cedrás, but still a leader in the death squads, Constant was on the payroll of the CIA, and is now in the Witness Protection Program. We really should have a detailed study of the "List of 100" for every year that the NSA has been in force. We have a right to know how that law has been used.

I would also like to see a list of vulnerable sitting heads of state, it being understood that these prosecutions would would be extremely difficult to obtain. On a scale of horror, China's Jiang Zemin, has to be mentioned for having created what is believed to be the largest gulag system in the world. In 1999, the Guatemalan Historical Clarification Commission made a finding of genocide against Ríos Montt, for the slaying of tens of thousands of Mayan Indians. Fidel Castro should be noted for extrajudicial killings from 1959-1961. And Saddam Hussein for gassing the Kurds.

Tom Blanton is the Executive Director of the National Security Archive, Washington, D.C.