Stay
the Hand of Vengeance is a useful overview of a difficult political
issue, the prosecution of war crimes from the end of the Napoleonic
wars to the Kosovo war. Bass rarely strays into describing the
proceedings themselves nor the events that caused them, with the
exception of the chapter on Bosnia. At the core of his book is
"legalism", the notion that war criminals should be
tried, rather than, for example, simply executed on sight or exiled.
Bass
examines legalism through a series of case studies, from the British
discussion of how Napoleon and his protégés should
have been brought to justice, to the tortured response to war
crimes in the former Yugoslavia and the Hague tribunal. Legalism
sounds desirable, but as Bass argues, it is subject inevitably
to a State's self interests, such as the concern by the U.S. government
not to put American soldiers' lives at risk in Bosnia to capture
war criminals who had harmed Bosnians, not Americans.
Bass
mounts an important and effective defence of war crimes tribunals,
in particular of Nuremberg. He argues against the lazy relativism
that calls Nuremberg "victor's justice", showing how
much effort was made to give the German defendants a fair trial.
Unfortunately, the chapter on Nuremberg drags, in part because
the material is so familiar. The chapter on the Hague suffers
from a similar problem and at one point is more a discussion of
Dayton than of war crimes. By contrast, the chapters on Napoleon
and the Constantinople tribunal, set up to try Ottoman war criminals
after the First World War, are powerful and important contributions
to understanding earlier, failed attempts to deal with war crimes.
Although
Bass acknowledges his debt to James P. Willis' work, his coverage
of the Leipzig tribunal, at which Germans accused of atrocities
during the First World War were half-heartedly tried, is excellent.
Bass argues that one of the lessons of the Leipzig tribunal is
that failed war crimes trials can provoke a nationalist backlash.
This argument can be overdone. Leipzig was just one of many resentments
manipulated by German nationalists in their successful attempt
to portray Germans as the victims rather than the victimisers
of the First World War. By contrast, the Constantinople tribunal
helped stimulate an inward looking Turkish nationalism which avoided
foreign entanglements and foreign influence. In the long run,
however, the failure to prosecute war criminals for the Armenian
genocide may have created a sense of impunity for human rights
violations in Turkey, something which has undermined domestic
rather than international stability.
Bass
consistently asks why liberal states try, and sometimes fail,
to live up to their liberal principles. The problem is that this
question only really concerns two countries: the U.S. and Britain.
Yet war crimes tribunals cannot work without broader international
support, which poses the question as to how the liberal states
such as Britain and the U.S. secure broader international backing
for tribunals. Theoretical issues, such as what constitutes a
war crime, are avoided. All of the cases which Bass examines are
those of criminal wars pursued in a criminal manner. A war crime,
in the sense in which Bass examines it, is therefore the opposite
of the just war, a corollary which might have been fruitfully
explored.
A
major gap in the book is the scant coverage of the Arusha tribunal
in Tanzania, set up by the UN to try those responsible for the
1994 genocide in Rwanda. Here Bass misses an important opportunity
to analyse liberal states acting in a less than liberal manner
by ignoring the butchery that took place in Rwanda. France helped
to train those responsible for the genocide and then launched
a so-called "humanitarian intervention" to help them
escape. The U.S. refused to call the killings a "genocide"
until they had ended, for fear that it might be forced to intervene.
Bass'
careful work in American, British and French archives sets a high
standard for others in the field. Retribution for war crimes is,
like the construction of memory, becoming a "hot" academic
issue. In the same way that researching post-war memorialization
is easier than studying the war itself, so post-war tribunals
are a more straightforward issue to examine than the crimes themselves.
Bass shows that this drift towards studying how we deal with the
past as opposed to the past itself need not be shallow, but can,
instead, be based on a solid foundation of primary research. Ultimately,
as Bass rightly acknowledges, what prevents war crimes is not
the threat of prosecution but the willingness of liberal states
to fight and win wars against criminal regimes. So while how and
why crimes are punished is important, why and in what circumstances
we are willing to prevent them will remain a greater concern.
Andrew
Apostolou is a historian at St. Antony's College, Oxford.
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