The Field Trip to the ICC
This week, I had the incredible opportunity to visit the ICC and attend the trial of The Prosecutor v. Alfred Yekatom and Patrice-Edouard Ngaïssona. At 9am, I arrived bright eyed and bushy tailed at the ICC and was immediately struck by how its sleek, contemporary facade stood out against the backdrop of the serene Dutch skyline. The building, a beacon of hard-fought international justice, was both intimidating and inviting. It was a stark reminder of the gravity of the proceedings that took place within its walls. As I passed through the security checkpoints, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu from my time working on Capitol Hill. Both places are hubs of political and legal activity and have an atmosphere thick with purpose. However, the people at the ICC were a diverse mix—lawyers in sharp suits, journalists with their notepads, and curious observers like myself. The air was filled with the hum of different languages, creating an intense and exciting energy. For a moment, it felt like I was living my professional dream.
The interior of the ICC was modern and meticulously designed, with expansive glass walls allowing natural light (yes, you read that correctly, another sunny day!) to flood the space. The clearness in design felt symbolic, like a nod to the court's mission to bring transparency and justice to the world. When I entered the observation room, the air filled with even greater anticipation. The room was also clear, glass-enclosed, and specifically designed for spectators of cases. It provided a perfect view of the courtroom below, allowing all of us to witness the proceedings without disrupting them. Each comfy seat was equipped with headsets, allowing observers to select their preferred translation with the click of a remote. I quickly secured a seat and settled in while the room buzzed with quiet conversations and the occasional rustle of paper. Scanning the space, I saw a microcosm of the world outside—students like myself, legal professionals, and individuals with a vested interest in the case. The diversity in the room reminded me of the many layers of humanity involved in international law, each person represented a different facet of the global community. Kirby, my fellow intern and comrade on this field trip, politely absorbed my overly excited chattering about being fully present in the life-defining milestone we were in.
As the trial began, the room fell silent. Defendants Alfred Yekatom and Patrice-Edouard Ngaïssona were shielded from the public eye but present in the room. They were on trial for crimes against humanity, including murder, deportation or forcible transfer of population, torture, persecution, and war crimes that included murder, torture and cruel treatment, mutilation, intentional attack against the civilian population, intentional attack against buildings dedicated to religion, enlistment of children under the age of 15 years and their use to participate actively in hostilities, displacement of the civilian population and destruction of the adversary's property. When the prosecutor started to speak, the weight of the moment hit me. These were individuals I had read about extensively, their actions and alleged crimes were subjects of my intense scrutiny in school. Seeing them in person, in the same room, was a stark reminder of the real human lives behind the legal texts. And seeing the young lawyer prepared to examine them was the personification of my dream career.
Throughout the session, I couldn’t shake the feeling of surrealness. Here I was, an intern and law student, witnessing history in the making. The cases I had studied were no longer just words on a page; they were living, breathing realities unfolding before my eyes. The stark contrast between the theoretical discussions in my classes and the real-life implications of those deliberations was both humbling and invigorating. As the session concluded and we were ushered out of the observation room, I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the experience. The ICC, with its blend of architectural beauty and legal rigor, had provided me with a glimpse into the heart of international justice. Walking towards the tram, I cast one final glance at the building, its glass walls reflecting the warm afternoon sun. As I gazed at the structure, I vowed silently that my next visit would be as a staff member, not just a visitor.
