“Jaw Jaw is better than War War,” said Winston Churchill about the founding of the United Nations after the Second World War. It would be hard to disagree with him, especially when one considers the horrific wars (worse than all previous wars) that we have witnessed this century.
Preventing—or limiting and controlling—war by getting antagonistic sides to talk instead of fight, or fight so much, is perhaps the chief and most beneficent function the UN can exercise at present. The new International Criminal Court, whose founding document was approved at a conference in the summer of 1998 in Rome, may be seen as an extension of this function of the UN. The court, if the document is finally ratified, will have the power to try and punish perpetrators of war crimes and other crimes against humanity. Unlike the ad hoc tribunals set up to try war crimes in Bosnia and Rwanda or to try Nazis at Nuremberg, the new court will be a permanent body, ready to come into action at a moment’s notice.
I had the privilege of attending the conference for a week and a half. I was accredited to a non-governmental organization (NGO) to lobby delegates mainly on behalf of pro-life issues. I was accordingly able to observe proceedings and form impressions at first hand. On the face of it, one might think such a court an altogether good thing to which no one would seriously object. What could be more noble or humane than to be able to halt the cycle of violence by interposing the majesty of the law between vengeful opponents and to mete out, in the calm of the court room, impartial justice to victims and criminals alike?
High-minded Rhetoric
The reality, I discovered, was a bit different. The court has its problems, and could have had worse ones if some delegates and NGOs had had their way. For the court itself was (and still is) the object of a war, a war about what form it should take and who should, or should not, have control over it. A permanent international criminal court will certainly be a powerful tool of political manipulation and change. Through the convictions or acquittals it hands down, it may destroy or preserve the political careers of great men; it may overturn or reinforce the policies of sovereign governments; it may inspire or give new heart to revolutionary movements or stop them in their tracks; it may even cause wars as much as end them. Where important issues are at stake, the temptation to use any means, fair or foul, to get what one wants can be almost irresistible. This is especially so in international politics. The ancient historian Herodotus once described a congress of Greek cities as a place where people came together to swear oaths and deceive each other.
“Swearing oaths and deceiving each other” is not, in fact, a bad description of certain things that went on in Rome. Pious and fair-sounding words and assurances of good faith and pledges of honorable intentions abounded in the public pronouncements of chairmen, delegates, and lobbyists. But one had a strong sense (reinforced by the occasional petulant remark made in public or by the sudden and bizarre change of room or time for an important session) that behind closed doors, in huddled meetings in hotels, doubtful plots were spun and hatched.
The passions are ambiguous things. They can either support the good or oppose it, moving one to right or wrong, and sometimes to both at once. Among us moderns there are two passions in particular that seem to dominate when it comes to politics: the passion to be free to do what we want, and the passion to be subject to someone strong who can look after us. These passions are not entirely compatible. They go together, in fact, because our passion to be free mainly concerns what we call private affairs and our passion to be looked after mainly concerns what we call public ones.
When some perceived problem is being discussed in public forums or the media, one often hears the refrain: “We must do something about it.” In fact what is meant is that “they,” the rulers or government, must do something about it. We ourselves, the citizens, don’t want to do anything; we want someone else to do it for us. That means we have an instinctive tendency to want to increase the size and power of government, for only a big and powerful government can do all the things that we want done.
The International Criminal Court represents this passion transposed from the national to the international scene. There are many people, especially but not only among the NGOs, who think that to effectively end and deter future wars, power must not be dissipated among a multitude of competing nations, but concentrated in one supranational body. They see a large and powerful court as a step toward such a body or toward one world government.
Some of the delegates of the several nations were similarly in favor of increased international authority, but others, not only the U.S., were afraid of a court free of national checks and able, by its prosecutions and decisions, to intervene powerfully in domestic affairs. Strong government yes, seemed to be their sentiment, but not international government, for that is a threat to sovereignty, “our” power as members of national governments to do what we want.
One can readily understand these passions, these conflicting ambitions and fears. One can even see that those differently motivated by them should, despite some of their dubious schemings, consider themselves to be well-intentioned. Power is seductive, but more seductive still is the power to do good. What could be more noble and splendid than to be the cause of some great benefit to mankind—of bringing some wicked criminal to justice, stopping a threatened war, securing for oppressed populations their long-denied rights? And what if a few false oaths are sworn or “small” deceits are practiced along the way?
Mincing Words
My own concerns as the representative of an NGO did not, however, operate on so grand a scale. They focused, rather, on some words in the founding document of the court that threatened to turn the court into an instrument of the pro-abortion and homosexual agendas. The phrase “forced pregnancy” and the word “gender” seemed to be dangerously unclear. “Forced pregnancy,” which was allegedly meant to describe the crimes of rape and forcible confinement of women pregnant through rape, could also be interpreted to mean (and has in recent court cases been interpreted to mean) that all laws preventing a woman from getting an abortion were crimes, too, for such laws “force” a woman to stay pregnant until normal birth. “Gender,” which allegedly meant male and female, seemed to be code for homosexuals and bisexuals as well, and also seemed to be designed to put them and their lifestyles on the same legal footing as married couples.
Those who favored these words swore oaths in their public utterances that they were not ambiguous in the ways alleged. Those on the other side, such as myself, had good reason, from not-so-public utterances, to think these oaths deceitful. The intense lobbying on both sides evidently convinced delegates that if the words were to be retained, they ought to be given careful definitions. This is more or less what happened. In the final document, “forced pregnancy” is defined as “the unlawful confinement of a woman made pregnant, with the intent of affecting the ethnic composition of any population,” and the further clause is added that “this definition shall not in any way be interpreted as affecting national laws relating to pregnancy.” As regards “gender,” this is defined as “the two sexes, male and female, within the context of society”
These definitions seem safe enough for present purposes (despite the suspicious-sounding “within the context of society” in the definition of gender), but it was absurd that they had to be fought for in the first place. In a saner world there would have been no question that gender means male and female and that unborn life needs protection. Much lobbying time and effort were spent on these issues that should have been spent instead on the larger issue of granting a permanent court extensive competence and powers of prosecution.
This larger issue divided most delegates throughout the conference. It—not gender or abortion—explains why several countries, notably the U.S., refused to vote in favor of the document at the end. Nevertheless 120 nations did vote in favor of it (six joined the U.S. in voting against, and 21 abstained). This is an impressive majority and suggests that most countries want the court. But approval of the document is only the first step in the process. Before the court can be set up, 60 countries have to ratify the document. As of now, only four countries had ratified it. At least 80 countries, however, have signed it, which is the step before ratification. So it looks as if the court will come into being within the next few years.
Time for Reflection
We should be grateful, nevertheless, for the intervening delay and the chance to mull things over. The fact that the court would be a further step toward one world government poses the question that trumps all the other questions (including those about abortion and gender). If such a government comes into existence, it will necessarily settle everything else its own way. Is one world government, or the concentration of massive power at the center, really a good idea? Nowhere was this question expressly addressed at the conference.
Nevertheless the forces in favor of an affirmative answer to the question, both inside and outside the conference, seem to be winning the day. This is mainly because everyone agrees, governments and citizens alike, that centralized power is “effective” and able to “get things done.” Some, like the U.S., want this centralization to be national and not global, but the logic of “effectiveness” seems to be against them. Nothing stands more in the way of getting things done—in particular of securing world peace—than the competing interests of powerful national governments.
Yet a nagging doubt remains. Power is an instrument that can be used for good or ill. If we go on building up concentrations of it, nationally or internationally or both, are we preparing the way for peace and prosperity or for slavery and despotism? What sort of people, indeed, can be trusted with such power? Do these sort of people exist, or are we doing anything to ensure that they will be the ones who have control? In any case, should we be content to let others rule for us from remote centers of power, instead of insisting that we all share the rule as much as possible and at as local a level as possible?
These and similar questions do not seem to have attracted the attention they deserve. We can perhaps hope that they will have attracted more attention at the follow-up conference scheduled for July and August this year in New York. But the auguries do not look good, as we seem all too eager to rush in where angels fear to tread and, through the desire to get things done, lay up for ourselves far worse troubles in the future.