Reconstituting Identity in Solidarity: Opening the Possibilities

of Democracy and Forgiveness

by

Janine Deschenes

ENGL 4P41

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Dr. Susan Spearey

April 19, 2013

Introduction

For Judith Butler and Mahmood Mamdani, varying constitutions

of identity compose the political dynamics that exist globally.

In his book When Victims Become Killers: Colonialism, Nativism, and the Genocide

in Rwanda, Mamdani explores the history of violence in Rwanda

resulting from political constructions of identity, particularly

when classified indigenous or non-indigenous. His call for

political institutions to constitute a shared identity rather in

civil and customary law resonates with that of Judith Butler. In

Precarious Life: The Powers of Mourning and Violence, Butler explores the

ways that, in an effort to maintain sovereignty as a nation post

9-11, the ruling authorities in the United States have

constructed an American national identity that is characterized

by "us versus them". Butler writes that if identity was instead

characterized by the recognition of a shared vulnerability

between people, a democratic global culture is made possible.

Mamdani argues that "a commitment to live under a common roof

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over the recognition of a common history- no matter the overlap

between them- is the real basis for a shared future" (276).

Butler's proposal of recognizing the ways we are inextricably

connected as social beings, when applied to Mamdani's suggestions

for democracy, illuminates the possibility of a space for this

democratic, common "roof".

It is also important to consider that changes in the

personal sphere are concurrently needed to achieve democracy.

Mamdani considers the agency and initiative held by Rwandans

"from below", who willingly organized killings of their

neighbours and even family members, concluding that the genocide

was "popular" in that it was widely supported at all levels of

society (8). Although influenced by the political sphere, there

is a personal element to conditions of violence and democracy. A

consideration of genocide survivor testimonies proves that in

many cases, democratic life following violence is made impossible

when the state forgives perpetrators, but survivors cannot do the

same. An expectation that a shared democratic culture should be

embraced by these individuals is thus unrealistic.

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Here, a consideration of Jacques Derrida's philosophy on the

possibilities of forgiveness is relevant. In his book On

Cosmopolitanism and Forgiveness, Derrida states that forgiveness must

be unconditional, requiring the recognition of the "unforgivable"

and a forgiveness of the guilty as guilty rather a state reformed

figure. A rethinking of identity that recognizes the guilty as

such, but also as possessing an universal element of

vulnerability, can provide the grounds for unconditional

forgiveness on a personal level. Derrida also calls for

"forgiveness without power", writing that forgiveness exists

outside of third party influence (59). Reconstituting identity

with solidarity can allow this divestment of power, because as

Butler suggests, the change itself removes inclinations for one

party to hold sovereign power over the other. When the prospect

of forgiveness is opened on the personal scale, the suggestion to

live under a common roof and history post-conflict is rendered a

possibility. Thus, a recognition of Butler's solidarity can not

only open the possibility of democracy in the political sphere,

but can create space for Derrida's unconditional forgiveness in

the personal sphere, making Mamdani's shared democratic life

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practicable. Ultimately, rethinking identity based on Judith

Butler's notion that individuals are constituted by a shared

capacity to inflict violence and be rendered vulnerable by their

ties with others can allow the possibility of democracy on

personal and political levels.

Politicized Identity: Precipitating Cycles of Violence

In his book Homo Sacer, Giorgio Agamben studies the way that

state identities are constructed for purposeful agendas. Agamben

writes "In the 'politicization' of bare life... the humanity of

the living man is decided" (Agamben 410). If a person's humanity

is dependent on how they are constituted in the political sphere,

bodies can be manipulated for state agendas. Agamben describes

this manipulation by using Michel Foucault's ideas of biopower

and biopolitics, which refer to the ways that the governments

acquire and maintain control over physical and political bodies

in the state- creation of "docile bodies" (Agamben 407). What

follows, says Foucault as quoted by Agamben, "is a bestialization

of man achieved through the most sophisticated political

techniques" (Agamben 407). Here, Agamben describes the political

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dehumanization of subjects for particular agendas. I will

consider the politically constructed identities in post-conflict

regions as described by Mahmood Mamdani and Judith Butler. More

specifically, both theorists write on the function of politically

constituted levels of otherness that contribute to the inception

and precipitation of climates of violence.

In When Victims Become Killers, Mamdani historicizes the 1994

genocide in the tradition of violence in post colonial Africa. He

attributes much of the blame for this violence to accepted

colonial constructions of identity. Mamdani places emphasis on

the ways that racial and ethnic constructions of identity, as a

result of direct and indirect colonial rule, contribute to the

politicization of indigeneity. He writes "Direct rule tended to

generate race-based political identities: settler and native.

Indirect rule, in contrast, tended to mitigate the settler-native

dialectic by fracturing the race consciousness of natives into

multiple and separate ethnic consciousness" (23). Mamdani

explains that indigeneity is politicized in this way, as

indigenous natives are constructed in ethnic groups while non

indigenous settlers are separated by race.

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The polarity between natives and settlers, or indigenous and

non indigenous, is furthered, as Mamdani writes, by the

separation between civic and ethnic citizenship. Differing

citizenships deny non-indigenous groups the rights associated

with ethnic citizenship. Such laws naturalize the constructions

of native and settler, of indigenous and non indigenous, by

constructing the two as unequal binaries in the law. This

naturalization becomes the basis for violence between groups of

"native" and "settler" because of a violent colonial history

between the two. A final consideration is of the colonial

constructions of "subject races" (27); hybrids between ethnic and

civic citizenship. Mamdani writes, of the constitution of subject

races, that "commonality between the colonizer and a minority

among the colonized [is that] that both were non indigenous"

(27). Subject races were therefore elevated among the colonized,

stripping them from native status, but "deprived of rights of

citizenship" among the colonized, occupying a middle ground that

is easily constructed as the enemy settler in the eyes of a

native.

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According to Mamdani, "The horror of colonialism led to two

types of genocidal impulses. The first was the genocide of the

native by the settler. [...] The second was the native impulse to

eliminate the settler [...] a self-defense in the face of

continuing aggression" (10). Native's genocide is explained by

Frantz Fanon as existing and justified in the logic of an eye for

an eye, a "violence to end violence", and a reaffirmation of

natives' humanity (10). Mamdani writes that "The practice of

violence binds them together as a whole, since each individual

forms a violent link in the great chain" (13). Natives' genocide

is here characterized by a collective response to the oppression

and violence experienced as colonized people. In the wake of

colonial political influence in regional Africa, however,

definitions of native and settler become complicated in the way

that, during colonial rule, indigeneity became politicized. The

failure to transcend political constructions of indigeneity,

especially when tied with racial and ethnic identity, is, as

Mamdani writes, "at the heart of the crisis of citizenship in

postcolonial Africa" (13). Indeed, it seems that in post colonial

Africa, a recurring phenomenon of native genocides exists in the

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recurring impulse to eliminate differing constructions of

"settler" groups.

Mamdani uses Rwanda as a case study to illuminate the crises

of identity and subsequent violence present in an international

context. Specifically, Rwanda can be understood as a native's

genocide against the Tutsi subject race. For Mamdani, the

political construction of Tutsi identity as "settler", and the

subsequent naturalization of the group's non-indigeneity,

provided the grounds for genocide. Following the logic of

natives' genocide- the violent quest for justice against non

indigenous oppressors- the constructed binary of "settler" and

"native" allows a cycle of violence in Rwanda and in other

contexts. Mamdani writes "[Hutu Power is] An outcome of struggle

in the world of the rat and the cat, it had not only the

potential of liberating the rat from the terror of the cat, but

also of locking the rat forever in a world driven by fear of the

cat" (270). As indigenous, native victims seek justice against

non-indigenous, "killer" settlers, they interchange their roles

in an effort of self preservation. In this way, cyclical violence

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between groups is continued, naturalized, and justified by the

native versus settler binary.

Similar to Giorgio Agamben, Judith Butler references Michel

Foucault in her explanation of political identities. Foucault,

quoted by Butler, writes that "governmentality, understood as the

way in which political power manages and regulates populations

and goods, has become the main way state power is vitalized"

(51). Butler considers the way that tactics of governmentality in

the United States function to constitute and regulate identity.

In Precarious Life, Judith Butler also considers the violent results

of constructed identity that is characterized by an "us versus

them" binary. She extends the discussion to international

relations between the United States and other countries,

resonating with Mamdani and Agamben's writings in that she

considers agendas behind political constructions of American

identity as a binary to Islamic identity. Butler writes

"The binarism [in post 9-11 policy] that Bush proposes in

which only two positions are possible- 'Either you're with us or

you're with the terrorists'- makes it untenable to hold a

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position in which one opposes both and is the same binarism

that returns us to an anachronistic division between 'East'

and 'West' and which, in its sloshy metonymy, returns us to

the invidious distinction between civilization (our own) and

barbarism (now coded as 'Islam' itself)" (2).

Here, Butler is describing the constitution of an autonomous

"American" identity in opposition to any subject associated with

the "East" and "terrorism". Not only are American identities

being constituted in this binary by the disallowance of any

position that opposes both American war on terror and terrorism,

but international identities are here politically constructed as

the enemy. Like Mamdani's explanation of enemy "settlers", Butler

is illuminating the construction of enemy "others" in and outside

of the United States.

Butler considers the question, in light of the binary

constructed of United States identity, of who counts as human in

American society. She writes "To what extent have Arab peoples,

predominantly practitioners of Islam, fallen outside the 'human'

as it has been naturalized in its 'Western' mold by the

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contemporary workings of humanism?" (32). The question is

furthered to consider that dehumanisation of the "other", similar

to Mamdani's "alien" settler, becomes a condition for violence.

Butler illuminates the construction of a "real" life by

considering practices of public grieving. She considers the

function of public obituaries, writing that the "obituary

functions as the instrument by which grievability is publicly

distributed. It is the means by which life becomes, or fails to

become [...] noteworthy" (34). If a life is not rendered

grievable in public discourse, it is not a life (34). Further,

not only is there a discourse of dehumanization, but discourses

create limits of human thought. It is in this way that the deaths

of Africans, Islams, and other non humans are "unmarkable and

ungrievable" (Butler 35). Butler probes, "If 200,000 Iraqi

children are killed during the Gulf War and its aftermath, do we

have a frame for any of those lives?" (34). The simple answer is

that we do not.

There is, here, a public constitution of who counts as

human. Just as accepted constructions of native and settler

normalize and perpetuate violence, dehumanisations of lives have

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the same implications for Butler. She writes "The derealisation

of the 'Other' means that it is neither alive nor dead, but

interminably spectral" (33-34). Violence against this "spectral"

other is thus condoned because it is impossible to kill or

inflict violence on a figure that is not quite "alive" (Butler

34). In this way, dehumanisation can act as a condition for

violence. A literal example of this lies in the public labelling

of Tutsi as "inyenzi" or, "cockroaches". It is important to

consider, equally, that these constructions have a purpose.

Specifically, Butler explains that constructing the enemy as

being in a state of "spectral-ness" means that while the enemy is

not "alive", it is also not dead; it cannot be truly "killed". It

is in this way that "The infinite paranoia that imagines war

against terrorism as a war without end will be one that justifies

itself endlessly in relation to the spectral infinity of its

enemy" (Butler 34). The key word here is "infinite". If an enemy

cannot be conquered by means of death, endless acts of violence

against them are not only justified but deemed necessary. One can

identify that there are governmental agendas to the constitution

of "otherness". Specifically, Butler writes of the military aim

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of derealisation. Not only does the constitution of an un-

grievable "alien other" perpetuate an infinite war on terror, but

it equally acts as justification for such acts of violence.

Butler explains by clarifying that public discourse of grieving

both constructs a grievable life and regulates public acts of

grieving. She writes "Such prohibitions not only shore up a

nationalism based on its military aims and practices, but they

also suppress any internal dissent that would expose the

concrete, human effects of its violence" (38). By establishing a

hierarchy of grievable lives, violence is justified against

"ungrievable" lives.

Butler illuminates the construction of an "unreal" other, as

well as the pitting of American identity against it, in her

discussion of the violent treatment and denial of rights of

prisoners at Guantanamo Bay. She writes that prisoners who are

deemed terrorists after 9-11 are "detained indefinitely" in an

American struggle for sovereign power and self preservation

following the attacks. The "threats" are denied rights to trial-

a basic human right under the constitution- in order to achieve

indefinite detention (Butler 51). Laws, here, are suspended and

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manipulated in order to justify such denial; facilitating a

"lawless power" (Butler 100). Importantly, by denying these

individuals basic human rights, the government has constituted

them as non human. This dehumanization and lawless power used to

"control" the non human has become naturalized in society's

discourse, says Butler. For example, the government rationalizes

the indefinite imprisonment of individuals by painting them as

mentally ill; incapable of living civilly amongst others (Butler

72). It is in this way that unlimited sovereign power, "lawless

power", becomes normalized as it is painted as a necessary public

service.

However, Butler concludes "If this extension of lawless and

illegitimate power takes place [as a model for international

justice], we will see the resurgence of a violent and self-

aggrandizing state sovereignty at the expense of any commitment

to global co-operation" (100). In other words, if it becomes

normalized to divorce political action from laws, especially

concerning justice, a cycle of violence will characterize the

global sphere in the efforts of self preservation and complete

sovereignty. One can already identify, in considering post-

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colonial Africa, that the suspension of law in the agenda of

state sovereignty is present in global situations of genocide and

war. These are fueled by politicized identity; of constituted

"otherness", "alien-ness", and "indigeneity". These constructions

set up groups as foils to one another and precipitate power based

violence, as Mamdani says, due to perpetual fear of becoming

"victims" once again. It is clear that identity constructions are

central to the violent histories in national, regional, and

international relations. A rethinking of identity, in light of

this, is needed. Political constructions of "us" and "them", I

suggest, could be transcended using Judith Butler's concept of a

shared vulnerability between all individuals.

Judith Butler's Solidarity: Rethinking Political Identity to

Achieve Democracy

A consideration of the violent effects of identity based

upon constructions of otherness illuminates the need for a

rethinking of identity to include elements of solidarity between

persons. Judith Butler considers this need in a chapter of

Precarious Life titled "Violence, Mourning, Politics". She considers:

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"perhaps we make a mistake if we take the definitions of who we

are, legally, to be adequate descriptions of what we are about"

(25). It is clear that identifying oneself with a political

identity, made evident by the Hutu ethnicity identifying

themselves as "indigenous" to Rwanda therefore possessing rights

to the land over Tutsis, can have immense violent effects for the

way that it perpetuates "us versus them" binaries. Perhaps we

should think of ourselves in other ways.

Butler proposes that all individuals are connected as social

beings in their capacities to inflict, and feel, violence and

loss. Importantly, it is this social composition that makes our

bodies sites of vulnerability, in that as social beings we are

vulnerable in our "attach[ment] to others, at risk of losing

those attachments, exposed to others, at risk of violence by

virtue of that exposure" (Butler 20). Butler, here, is suggesting

that despite common struggles for autonomy, we are not solitary

beings. This is shown through the feelings of grief, loss and

mourning that are universally shared when we lose someone with whom

we are attached. Butler proposes that "Loss has made a tenuous

'we' of us all" (20) in that we all have the capacity as social

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beings, constituted by our relation to an "other", to experience

feelings of grief in losing another and vulnerability in losing a

part of yourself in the other. This idea provides a counter to

the acceptance that the world is made up of differing levels of

"otherness", and especially the normalized dehumanization of

subjects, in that it implies a recognition that we are infinitely

connected by the "humanness" associated with sociality, grieving

and loss. A recognized universal human quality can have important

implications in that it challenges the accepted "non-human"

qualities of particular groups against whom violence is

justified.

Butler takes her ideas on universal social constitution a

step further when she writes "Let's face it. We're undone by each

other. And if we're not, we're missing something" (23). In other

words, not only are we socially constituted bodies who share a

capacity for vulnerability as a result of our attachments with

others, but we are changed by these social attachments. In this

way, our lives are entangled with the lives of others, in that we

both have the capacity to change others and have the capacity to

be changed as a result of our sites of attachment to others.

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Butler explains by saying "Who am I, without you? [...] On one

level, I think I have lost 'you' only to find that I have gone

missing as well. At another level, perhaps what I have lost 'in'

you [...] is a relationality that is composed neither exclusively

of myself nor you" (22). For Butler, part of us exists within

each other, represented by our indescribable "ties" with one

another. When a tie is "lost" we lose the part of ourselves that

exists in this tie. As Butler writes, in loss we are seized by

something outside of ourselves; we exist "beside ourselves" (24).

Grief is, then, a representation of the losses we feel as a

result of our relations with others. And importantly, this

feeling is universal. Individuals, then, are bound in "fate

[that] is not originally or finally separable from [each

others']" (Butler 22). In our innate sociality, says Butler, each

of us have a fundamental responsibility to be accountable for a

shared "fate"; something "larger than one's own deliberate plan"

(21). It here becomes apparent, regarding Butler's insight, that

there can be transformative political implications in a

recognition of ourselves as possessing this social vulnerability.

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The outcome of rethinking identity based in shared

vulnerability, declares Butler, is the opening of possibilities

for global democracy and egalitarian ties between nations (40). I

suggest, additionally, that a recognition of a shared capacity

for vulnerability can allow for Mamdani's call for individuals in

post conflict contexts to embrace a "common roof"; a shared

history and a shared political identity (276). To reiterate,

Mamdani writes that at the heart of the history of violence in

Africa is the crisis of citizenship that is divided by

politicized indigeneity. Violence and genocide can be

historicized, says Mamdani, by a colonial legacy that has

ultimately sparked natives' genocide: the impulse of native or

indigenous groups to eliminate settler groups. Butler's concept

that identity is has universal elements of solidarity, and that

through this solidarity we are inextricably bound and broken by

each other, can provide the grounds to overcome violence that is

precipitated by opposing binaries of "native and settler" or

"indigenous or non indigenous".

A reconstitution of identity in such solidarity, vis a vis

Butler's Precarious Life, requires a twofold recognition of human

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capacities. The first is that, as beings who exist partially in

our ties to one another, we have the innate capacity to inflict

pain on another on the basis of these ties. On the second hand,

we also have the capacity to be rendered vulnerable by violence

at the hands of another and the subsequent loss of our social

attachments. Butler explains, "Violence is [...] a way a primary

human vulnerability to other humans is exposed in its most

terrifying way, a way that we are given over, without control, to

the will of another" (28-29). She continues to write that all

humans live with this kind of vulnerability and concurrently

possess the potential, and even the inclination, to exploit the

vulnerability of others in an effort of self preservation.

Further, Butler says "This vulnerability, however, becomes

tightly exacerbated under certain social and political

conditions, especially those in which violence is a way of life

and the means to secure self-defense are limited" (29). As per

Mamdani, examples of these "certain social and political

conditions" in which vulnerability and violence are intensified

lie in post-colonial regions. Mamdani considers the logic of

natives' genocide in When Victims Become Killers, and explains the

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phenomenon that "[...] it was the violence of yesterday's victims

who have turned around and decided to cast aside their victimhood

and become masters of their own lives. 'He of whom they have

never stopped saying that the only language he understands is

that of force, decides to give utterance by force'" (13). Mamdani

is here explaining that, having been victimized through violence,

the logic of native populations is that to achieve freedom or to

maintain self preservation, violence is a necessary strategy.

Conditions for violence are "exacerbated" in this context because

of the violent colonial history. A recognition of a universal

capability for violence, and to render others vulnerable as a

result, is important in such contexts. Doing so may allow the

capability to cease the logic of genocidal violence that Mamdani

describes as becoming cyclical in generation upon generation of

victims turned killers (268).

In his consideration of a new political climate in Rwanda,

Mamdani writes that any democratic state project must both de-

ethnicize and de-racialize power. In doing so, the possibility is

opened for a unified state citizenship (Mamdani 30). However, in

the wake of colonial violence against the native, governments

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have been focused in dismantling racial, not ethnic, power. One

must consider that it is the legacy of the separated and opposed

binaries that influence such laws that privilege ethnic power. If

the logic of native violence, then, is constructed with a need

for self preservation in fear of their "powerful" settler binary,

a rethinking of the settler as being vulnerable to native action

and sharing vulnerability with native groups can disrupt this

logic. Every individual, if thought of under the terms of such

solidarity, transcends classification into particular groups:

native, settler, killer, victim. Indeed, Mamdani writes that

breaking from such classification is necessary in the

postcolonial struggle for justice, entitlement, and social

equality that has been this far focused on "asserting the

prerogative of the native at the expense of the settler" (31). To

choose to reassert such identity classifications in politics

following violence, implies Mamdani, is a choice to reassert

violence between groups. He explains when he criticizes the

Rwandan state's post genocide adoption of "genocide framework"

that classifies surviving Rwandans into five categories:

returnees, refugees, victims, survivors, and perpetrators (266-

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267). In light of this, Mamdani writes that each of these

classifications need to be recognized as having elements of

sameness, and that a common state identity is needed. I suggest

that to recognize the common elements of vulnerability and

capacity for violence between people is to embrace a form of

hybridity between identities; to see oneself as a "victim" and a

"killer", respectively. To do so would be to dismantle the logic

of "an eye for an eye", in that violence justified by reprisal is

now recognized as perpetuating a cycle of victims turned killers

rather than creating a "better" society by retaliating against

violence done to them. Additionally, the acknowledgement that "we

are undone by each other" can allow the ceasing of violence

justified by self preservation. In recognizing that we are

changed by the loss of another, we are recognizing that

inflicting violence against that other is not only taking

something from them, but taking something from us. This

challenges cycles of power structures in which violence is used

to gain and maintain power for self preservation, as it

illuminates the precarious nature of the power we acquire if we

lose ourselves in the process.

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In his conclusion to When Victims Become Killers Mamdani

expresses the need to reshape Rwandan politics in order to allow

the possibility of ceasing genocidal violence. In order to

rationalize a constitution of a democratic state, Mamdani

considers the possibility of democracy and justice being fused

together. Mamdani distinguishes between the ideology of victor's

justice, which he says is present in Rwandan politics now, and

survivor's justice, which should be embraced in Rwandan policy.

Victor's justice exists in the way power is given to the

perceived victims of violence. In Rwanda, victor's justice is

present in the "Tutsification" of political power structures, in

that power authorities are catering to a Tutsi prerogative under

the blanket statement "never again" (Mandani 271). Victor's

justice is also, as Mamdani writes, the norm in post conflict

situations worldwide. He gives the example of the Nazi Holocaust

against Jews, from which a Zionist state, Israel, was created out

of Palestine, and also from which Israeli acts of violence

against Palestinians are justified with the words "never again"

(271). One can also make a connection to Butler's criticism of

the American post 9-11 "war on terror". Innumerable acts of

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violence against Iraq, and Iraqis, are warranted again by

victor's justice, and the logic of "never again" (Butler 3). In

each example, identity remains politically divided and violence

remains a result of the fear of being vulnerable to the "other".

In order to allow a democratic political sphere, says

Mamdani, survivor's justice needs to be reconciled with democracy

(273). To make sense of survivor's justice, one must consider a

tentative definition of "survivor". In short, survivor as Mamdani

describes refers to all those who are living in a state following

civil war. Therefore, survivor's justice is described as justice

for all surviving citizens. This type of justice, says Mamdani,

is one that calls for the transcending of politically constructed

identities. A reconciliation of survivor's justice with democracy

requires that political identities are defined universally in

this way, so that institutional reform does not perpetuate the

idea that rights are divided. Again, a use of Butler's ideas on

solidarity can be useful in the creation of a "universal

survivor", in that it disallows the giving of power to one group

based on killer versus victim binaries. The political recognition

of a universal and vulnerable survivor can, in turn, make

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Mamdani's call for an embrace of a shared roof possible. It is

undeniable that, for targets of genocide, fear is a driving force

in their minds when the idea of democracy, of community with

those who hunted them, is mentioned (Mamdani 279). Similarly,

Mamdani repeats his claim that for democracy to become a

possibility, citizenship must be based on residency rather than

indigeneity. This, again, implies community between the hunted

and hunters. To address such fear requires that "killers" are

considered survivors or victims in tandem with their criminal

status. Butler writes that vulnerability provides a space for

egalitarian ties between parties to be established, in that, by

means of their recognition that there is a shared vulnerable

quality in all, each would pledge to refrain from inflicting the

violence they received on the other (30, 40). Mamdani concurs,

writing that in order for Tutsis to embrace democracy in the

absence of fear or impulse to "preserve themselves", democracy on

the basis of universal citizenship needs to be established (31).

In embracing Butler's solidarity, finally, a shared history

becomes possible. Mamdani writes that in Rwandan schools, history

is left out of the curriculum due to the fact that, in the

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nation, there are differing histories depending on the historical

perspective taken. Adopting a communal history of "survivors" of

violence opens the possibility of sharing a democratic "common

roof".

Despite his focus on postcolonial African and Rwandan

contexts, Mamdani implies in his integration of examples from

other time periods and geographies that his ideas on a

constitution of a democratic political culture can be globally

relevant. An application of Mamdani's writings to Judith Butler's

consideration of American politics proves this to be accurate.

Mamdani does call for international co-operation in the quest for

democracy in Africa, however in Precarious Life, Butler places more

focus on the possibility of democracy in international relations.

She writes "In the United States we have been surrounded with

violence, having perpetrated it and perpetrating it still, having

suffered it, living in fear of it, planning more of it, if not an

open future of infinite war in the name of a 'war on terrorism'"

(28). She attributes the continued perpetration of violence by

the United States is a result of the nation's struggle to

maintain sovereign power. As a part of the need for such power,

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vulnerability is denounced as weakness in American culture,

resulting in normalized retaliation against terrorists who

rendered them vulnerable (Butler 29). In an effort to preserve

sovereignty, then, comes the logic that precipitates an infinite

war on terror- reminiscent of Mamdani's explanation of the

motives of self preservation underlying natives' genocide. Butler

also considers the way violent acts are carried out on the

domestic front. Not only does Butler criticize the treatment of

Islamic individuals at Guantanamo Bay, as previously described,

but she denounces the censorship of media that disallows

criticism of America's war on terror. This censorship

precipitates the ideology that challenges: "Either you're with us

or you're with the terrorists" (Butler 2), which in turn

justifies American acts of violence in an effort of sovereignty

preservation. The result, says Butler, is that "amorphous racism

abounds, rationalized by the claim of self defense" (39).

Butler calls for a reworking of American national identity

to facilitate change in the international political sphere. She

writes

Deschenes 29

"[...] I consider our recent trauma to be an opportunity for

a reconsideration of United States hubris and the importance of

establishing more radically egalitarian international ties.

Doing this involves a certain 'loss' for the country as a whole:

the notion of the world itself as a sovereign entitlement of the

United States must be given up, lost, and mourned, as

narcissistic and grandiose fantasies must be lost and mourned.

From the subsequent experience of loss and fragility,

however, the possibility of making different kinds of ties

emerges" (40).

Butler is therefore extending her concept of recognizing

vulnerability between persons to recognizing vulnerability as a

nation. The idea can be considered as such when she explains that

although nations are not the same as "individual psyches", they

can still be described as individual subjects that possess

national identities. Of the constructed American nation following

9-11, Butler writes "It shores itself up, seeks to reconstitute

its imagined wholeness, but only at the price of denying its own

vulnerability, its dependency, its exposure, where it exploits those very features in others

[italics inserted by me]" (41). By denying its vulnerability as a

Deschenes 30

nation by declaring "war on terror" in order to preserve its

power, the United States ends up inflicting the same violence on

other nations, rendering them vulnerable at the mercy of American

"hubris".

What are the global implications, then, of nations such as

the United States reconstituting their national identity with a

recognition of shared vulnerability, and common capacity to

exploit other nations' vulnerabilities through international war?

In his conclusion of When Victims Become Killers, Mamdani writes "For

victory presents alternatives to the victor, which it does not to

the vanquished. Only the victor has the choice of reaching out to

the vanquished on terms that have the potential of transcending

an earlier opposition between the two..." (272). I argue that

Judith Butler, in her imploration of the United States to

recognize and accept its vulnerability, is calling for the nation

to reach out, as a victor, to the nations they have "vanquished".

By not doing so, the United States is simply continuing a cycle

of international violence, in which nations interchange statuses

as metaphorical "victims and killers" and the politicized "us

versus them" identities take precedence. Doing so, however, opens

Deschenes 31

the possibility for global democracy; an international condition

from which, in Butler's words, a principle characterized by a

"vow to protect others from the kinds of violence we have

suffered" may emerge. I do not mean to suggest a quick fix to end

international war or civil war, nor do I imply that democracy

will happen concurrently with a reconstitution of national or

personal identity. I do, however, wish to show that by

recognizing the way that we are, as socially constituted bodies,

vulnerable at the hands of other and capable to render others

vulnerable, the ideas of retaliation against an "other" in an

effort of self preservation is dismantled.

Finally, to further widen the influence of Mamdani's hope

for Rwandan politics, Butler's call for the United States in

particular to forgo their quest for sovereignty maintenance is

considerable. To explain, there are undeniable differences in the

levels of vulnerability experienced by, say, targets of a

genocide and inhabitants of a powerful nation whose protective

resources are all but unlimited. I want to clarify that I do not

imply that the horror and grief experienced as a result of

terrorist attacks on the United States should be reduced in light

Deschenes 32

of more widespread destruction in other contexts. I do, however,

wish to refer to a quote by Mamdani that says "Only in the

erstwhile settler colonies of the New World do we have a

comparable [to the Tutsi's experience in Rwanda] history of

violence that has rendered the majority guilty in the eyes of

victimized minorities. Such, indeed, has been the aftermath of

genocide and slavery..." (279). Here, one can see that the

aftermath of genocide is unique to other conflict situations in

that it not only exposes the bare vulnerability of the targets,

but it leaves them in a state of minority following its end, in

perpetual fear of the majority that wished to exterminate them.

Thus, differing forms of vulnerability are experienced; making

Butler's writings on the United States in particular a

consideration.

Mamdani concludes his book with the words "Such a dynamic

[of undercutting political identities and achieving a new

democracy] will need to be the result of a regional initiative,

backed up by international support" (282). Mamdani is making

clear in his conclusion that change is only possible with an

international effort. Here, Butler's imploration of the United

Deschenes 33

States to reconstitute its national identity to forge democracy

is relevant. If serious genocidal situations, as Mamdani

describes of the "simmering volcano" in Rwanda", can be diffused

by international support, it is essential that one of the most

influential countries be willing to undergo Butler's

transformation of identity and model egalitarian political

values. Additionally, in genocidal situations that leave groups

so indefinitely fearful, democracy cannot happen on its own

because of this fear. If the possibility of a shared global

democracy is to be made a reality at all, "less vulnerable"

nations who have the capacity to make change must be in support.

Embracing a "Common Roof": A Space for Forgiveness in the

Presence of Solidarity

A discussion of violence, vulnerability and democracy should

be held in tandem with a consideration of forgiveness in these

contexts. As previously mentioned, Mamdani's call for individuals

to embrace a shared identity, under a "common roof", is

unrealistic if people, such as Tutsis, find it impossible to

personally forgive those who committed crimes against them. In

Deschenes 34

Marie-France Collard's documentary production of Groupov's tenth

anniversary performance of Rwanda 94, survivors are interviewed

on the conditions of their lives a decade following the genocide.

Survivor Dusabe Marine attributes the difficulty of her daily

life to the fact that she is forced to live alongside known

perpetrators who have been acquitted by the state. She says that

the state may forgive, but we do not, perpetuating personal views

of "otherness" classified by guilt or innocence (2006).

Similarly, Jean Hatzfeld scribes the testimonies of Rwandan

genocide survivors in his book Life Laid Bare: The Survivors of Rwanda

Speak. Innocent Rwililiza, speaking on his experience with

forgiveness in Rwanda following the genocide, says "Even if one

of us shows joy in resuming previous activities [...] the

survivor knows, deep inside, that this performance is a fraud. It is

the same, and even more, for a person who speaks only of forgiving, forgetting, and the

like [italics inserted by me]" (116). In the same text, Hatzfeld

writes the story of Edith Uwanyiligira, who demonstrates the

importance of forgiveness when she says "But I myself am ready to

forgive[...] I do not want to live in remorse and fear from being

Deschenes 35

a Tutsi. If I do not forgive them, it is I alone who suffers and

frets and cannot sleep (173-174).

By considering testimonies of Rwandan genocide survivors

cited in texts and mediums including Jean Hatzfeld's Life Laid Bare

and Marie-France Collard's documentary Rwanda: Through us, humanity,

it is clear that in many cases, life following such violence is

made unbearable when the state forgives perpetrators, but

survivors cannot do the same. The prospect of forgiveness, then,

is a part of sharing Mamdani's "common roof". An expectation that

a shared democratic culture should be embraced by these

individuals is thus unrealistic if the possibility of true

forgiveness does not exist.

In On Forgiveness and Cosmopolitanism, Jacques Derrida writes

extensively on his idea of unconditional forgiveness. Notably,

Derrida divorces "true" and "unconditional" forgiveness from any

state or political involvement. Here, too I am divorcing the idea

of forgiveness from my previous considerations of political

climates. I am, however, including forgiveness in this paper

because it is evidently an important part of democratic life in a

Deschenes 36

post-conflict context. Forgiveness, for Derrida, happens

exclusively on a personal level. I concur, but suggest that

personal forgiveness can have political consequences. I also

suggest that a space for possible forgiveness can be created by

rethinking identity in terms of Judith Butler's solidarity.

Derrida characterizes unconditional forgiveness in multiple

ways. First, he separates the commonly united terms of

forgiveness and reconciliation. Reconciliation, writes Derrida,

is not forgiveness but an exchange between parties; a conditional

"reconciling" that depends on repentance. Forgiveness, on the

other hand, requires a forgiving of the "unforgivable" as

something that is "forgivable" is, in Derrida's words, already

forgiven (32). Forgiveness, for Derrida, must be divorced from

third party involvement, for when it becomes "mediated" it

becomes normalized, which makes it reconciliation rather than

forgiveness (28). In this way, he calls for a "forgiveness

without power", referring to both power of the state and power of

the soul (59). Finally, Derrida considers who one forgives when

they forgive: the person or the act (38). He writes that, if a

person is forgiven, true forgiveness only exists if the person is

Deschenes 37

forgiven in their guilty state. In other words, unconditional

forgiveness does not occur on the condition that the guilty

figure has reformed or repented (34).

Derrida writes of the "impossibility" of forgiveness, in

that true, unconditional forgiveness forgives the "unforgivable"

act and individual. I suggest that a constitution of identity

using a recognition of shared capacities for vulnerability and

violence can create a space for the possibility of Derrida's

unconditional forgiveness. Firstly, identity based in Butler's

solidarity can allow the forgiveness of a guilty figure as guilty.

Derrida writes "Imagine, then, that I forgive on the condition

that one repents, mends his ways, asks forgiveness [...] This

would be too simple on both sides: one forgives someone other

than the guilty one" (38-39). One can see, by considering the

survivor testimonies in Jean Hatzfeld's Life Laid Bare, that this

conditional forgiveness is beseeched of those found guilty. For

example, Angelique Mukamanzi says that "many Hutu families came

back to the hills, even when their men were in prison. [...]

these families farm their fields among themselves, they return

nothing they looted, they hardly speak to us, they seek no

Deschenes 38

forgiveness. Their silence upsets me deeply" (85). For Derrida,

Angelique is seeking reconciliation rather than forgiveness, as

she places a condition for her forgiveness on the repentance of

the Hutu families. Here, the difficulty, even impossibility, of

forgiving the guilty as such is evident. However, a rethinking of

the guilty as still having the same guilt, but as possessing an

inherent commonality with the victim, could provide the grounds

for forgiveness. A recognition that both guilty and innocent

figures share the capabilities for violence and vulnerability can

provide the grounds for forgiveness in that it implicates the

victim's actions in the life of the guilty. Reconstituting the

identities of "guilty" and "victim" in solidarity can allow the

realization that, on some level, every human has elements of

sameness. Therefore, if a victim is able to recognize that they too

have a capacity to inflict violence on another, and that, whether

guilty or not, every individual is vulnerable to their actions,

the possibility may be provided to see the guilty in a new light.

Butler proposes that this is a potential condition from which a

person would wish to save another from the violence they have

experienced (30); which is likely to facilitate an urge to

Deschenes 39

forgive rather than to seek revenge. The guilty individual

himself therefore has not changed, but reconstituting identity in

solidarity may provide the grounds for the forgiving of the

guilty as guilty.

A rethinking of identity based in solidarity can also allow

the possibility for Derrida's "forgiveness without power" (59).

Derrida explains "Each time forgiveness is effectively exercised,

it seems to suppose some sovereign power. That could be the

sovereign power of a strong and noble soul, but also a power of

State [...] What I dream of [...] would be a forgiveness without

power: unconditional but without sovereignty" (59). Judith Butler,

similarly, calls for democracy without sovereign power. As

previously discussed, the struggle for sovereignty has multiple

repercussions: it perpetuates violence in the name of self

preservation, it presumes to hold authority over "others" and, in

light of Derrida, it disallows true forgiveness. To recognize the

human capacity for violence and vulnerability requires a forgoing

of sovereign power, as Butler explains, because to hold power

over another is to exploit their vulnerability in their

connection with you (28-29). It can be suggested, then, that the

Deschenes 40

recognition of Butler's solidarity between individuals on a

personal level can allow the possibility of true forgiveness, in

that no person is inclined to struggle for or maintain power over

another if a recognition of shared capacities for vulnerability

is present.

Given the importance of achieving forgiveness in post-

conflict life, illuminated by the survivor testimonies studied

here, the expectation that democracy will work on a grassroots

level is unrealistic if there is no possibility that forgiveness

can occur. And, as Mamdani writes, acts of violence are

orchestrated from the top, with complicity or even agency from

the bottom (7). Democracy must, therefore, be a viable

possibility on both a political level and a personal level.

Reconstituting personal relationships as being characterized by a

shared capacity for violence and vulnerability creates a space

for the possibility of Derrida's true, unconditional forgiveness

in that it provides the potential means to forgive without power

and forgive the guilty as guilty. Most importantly, the opening

of a space for unconditional forgiveness at the personal level

Deschenes 41

can make democracy at the political level a more realistic and

sustainable project.

Conclusion

In order to provide the grounds for the ceasing of global

violence, a rethinking of identity based in solidarity is needed.

Judith Butler proposes that there should be a recognition that

all individuals share a common capacity to inflict violence as a

means of self preservation as well as be left vulnerable by

experiencing violence and loss at the hands of another. This

recognition can have transformative political and personal

effects; especially that it opens the possibility of constituting

democracy on wide and narrow scales. By studying Mahmood

Mamdani's writings on politicized identity in the post-colonial

context, and his call for democracy on a wide scale, it becomes

clear that constituting identity based on Butler's solidarity can

allow the possibility of Mamdani's aspirations. Rethinking

identity as per Butler can also allow for the possibility that,

on the personal scale, a "common roof" can be accepted. This is

due to the opening of a space for Jacques Derrida's true,

Deschenes 42

unconditional forgiveness as a result of constituting identity in

solidarity. Importantly, by challenging varying definitions of

"us versus them", Judith Butler's solidarity can allow the

possibility of ceasing of violence carried out in self protection

against the "other" on personal and political levels, and create

the potential for democratic relationships.

Works Cited

Deschenes 43

Agamben, Giorgio. "Introduction to Homo Sacer." The Routledge Critical

and Cultural Theory Reader. Ed. Neil Badmington and Julia Thomas.

New York, NY: Routledge, 2008. 406- 414. Print.

Butler, Judith. Precarious life: the powers of mourning and violence. London:

Verso, 2004.

Print.

Collard, Marie-France, dir. Rwanda: A travers nous, l'humanite. Groupov

asbl, 2006. Film.

Derrida, Jacques. "On Forgiveness." On Cosmopolitanism and Forgiveness.

New York: Routledge, 2001. 25-60. Print.

Hatzfeld, Jean. Life Laid Bare: The Survivors in Rwanda Speak. New York:

Other Press LLC, 2006. Print.

Mamdani, Mahmood. When Victims Become Killers: Colonialism, Nativism, and

Genocide in Rwanda. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001.

Print.

Deschenes 44