Week Nine
Last week, in anticipation of this week, I wrote a post recalling a previous era in my life, when I traveled to Turkey in 2012, on a work trip for a previous career endeavor. This week, I learned that 2012 was the last time some of the people participating in CEELI's Turkish lawyers program, which started on Monday and is still ongoing, remember as being good. It was before Erdogan had entirely solidified his grip on power, before imposed curfews and the disappearance of friends and neighbors, before many of these lawyers feared being detained, tortured, and wrongly accused of crimes.
There have been many highlights from my time at CEELI, but during my ninth week, sitting in on the Turkish lawyers program has generated so much food for thought, I barely know where to begin. But I will make an attempt to hit the highlights here. First, the participants are all young lawyers, or new lawyers, who have committed themselves to practicing human rights law in a country where human rights is rapidly eroding and where they are in considerable danger simply for their practice. I have been struck this week, time and again, by the daunting prospect of dedicating yourself to this line of work when there is--arguably--no apparent light at the end of the tunnel in Turkey. Two of the teachers for this program are very accomplished Turkish human rights lawyers, in their own right, and they have openly addressed the lack of expectation for much change in the Turkish political landscape any time soon. So, the question is how to continue, and what is the best way to build democracy and defend human rights in the meantime? Indeed, maintaining hope in the face of constant roadblocks has become a theme of the program, as many of the young lawyers have asked in earnest how to respond when a judge refuses to listen to their arguments, when prosecutors are allowed to dictate judgments to judges, and when they are blocked from meeting with clients or questioning witnesses. Not to mention the constant fear that they will lose clients or their reputation or even be imprisoned and tortured themselves as a result of their work defending people who have been wrongly accused by the government.
The answers to these questions are not easy or always satisfying, of course. But the teachers have done a great job of addressing these concerns while remaining honest and realistic, as well as encouraging. It has struck me that many of their answers come down to a certain level of steadfastness--and a refusal to lower standards to the level of the judges or prosecutors who are obstructing justice. There is an argument being presented that rather than give up on the legal process as a result of corruption, the best way to combat the obfuscation of truth, the denial of a fair trial, and the erosion of judicial institutions is to double down on the insistence that a fair trial be granted, on documenting evidence that presents the truth of what happened, on holding the judicial institutions accountable to their own standards. For example, yesterday a renowned human rights lawyer from Turkey spoke to the group. She talked about very practical measures, like knowing the rules of civil procedure backwards and forwards in order to hold the court accountable when the rules are broken. She spoke about being above reproach in all arguments and submitted documents, particularly as there may be opportunities to appeal to the European Court of Human Rights in the long run, and the ECtHR will not entertain any breach of truth on the part of a lawyer trying to come before the court. (There are tens of thousands of applications to the ECtHR, so it is a difficult process to have a case heard at that level.)
Speaking of the ECtHR, one of the burning questions I have been asking myself (and others) this summer is whether these regional and international courts are effective, especially considering how difficult it is for a case to actually make its way before these bodies. And the sheer time it takes, so that a decision may come down a number of years after an event occurs. Is this really the best way to hold governments accountable? I still don't know. I do think I have come to see that it might not be THE BEST way, but that does not mean they are not effective. The ECtHR is a way, and, at the very least, it provides a mechanism for holding governments accountable when there is no other recourse at the national level. Of course, this process can be frustrating when the ECtHR rejects applications to hear cases on the basis that all national judicial mechanisms have not been exhausted, but there is something to be said for having an additional pathway beyond one's own national government or judicial system, when that system has broken down or become corrupt. It provides another level of oversight and accountability, and it creates a body of case law that can be used as a standard to hold up as a mirror.
This discussion brings me to another major takeaway from this week: the importance of solidarity. There have been times, admittedly, when I have felt a bit odd about being so far away from home this summer, at a time when my own country is going through such turmoil. There is always a sense I could be doing more, particularly since my own home state is the site of so much of the conflict over immigration and the treatment of children. But one of the enormous gifts of my time here in Prague has been being able to meet, hear from, and learn from individuals who have been in the trenches for decades and understand what it means to keep their eyes on the ball for the long game, to use a bad sports metaphor. This summer has allowed me to look beyond the borders of my own country, or state, beyond the daily barrage of news that can feel overwhelming. Gaining a global--or regional--view, rather than increasing that sense of being overwhelmed, has actually helped to put things into perspective and bring a few things into focus. But beyond my own experience, I have repeatedly seen how the lawyers who come for training at CEELI have benefited simply from being together and learning together. Yesterday, the human rights lawyer who spoke emphasized the importance of solidarity several times. She spoke of it in very practical terms; given the fact that there are powerful forces eroding institutions, she told the young lawyers that they would not be able to build democracy alone and that they must do it together. She encouraged them never to visit a prison where a client has been detained alone, never to speak to law enforcement about a detained client alone, never to respond to a client's call without consulting a colleague. It struck me, as she was speaking, that we are told continually that the judicial system is adversarial and often set up in situations of competition, but there is something equally important about recognizing the need for our colleagues' support and solidarity, especially when the going gets really tough. And again, at a very practical level, in some situations there is a need for protection, additional witnesses, or someone who is able to capture additional information as evidence.
The word evidence brings me to my last big takeaway, which is brief but perhaps the most important to the practice of human rights law. In my lawyering skills class this past year, our professor, a judge himself, would always ask us, "what is the most important thing to know about being a lawyer?" The joke became that we would respond, "paper the file," simply because he did tell us several times that we should document everything when it came to any case, even if our involvement turned out to be minimal. After this summer, I think the resounding echo of "paper the file" has become even stronger in my mind. This week, in response to questions about what to do when law enforcement, judiciary officials, or government representatives do not adhere to the rule of law or obstruct justice, one answer has been to document these violations. In addition to the need to document a client's evidence of torture--including medical records, individual testimony, recordings or photos--many of these lawyers face the prospect of having to document their own treatment when they come to the defense of their clients. But this evidence, the files of documentation, and the reports are one of the greatest tools, it seems, to hold the powerful accountable and continue to plant a stake in the ground for adherence to human rights standards. This work is exhausting, of course, but again, done much better in community and solidarity with others.