The Oxford Hope Express
As a law student, every experience shapes my understanding of the legal world, and my week in Oxford was particularly impactful. The workshop, “Constitutionalizing Rights in the 21st Century,” was a collaboration between International IDEA and the Bonavero Institute of Human Rights, focusing on the challenges and strategies of constitution makers in addressing human rights issues amidst constitutional reforms. The aim was to draw insights from various countries and foster an exchange of experiences, particularly from Commonwealth nations.
From the moment I arrived, it was clear that this was no ordinary gathering. The participants were a distinguished group of constitutional makers, human rights experts, senators, justices, and scholars from Jamaica, Trinidad and Tobago, Barbados, Guyana, Belize, Kenya, Mozambique, The Gambia, and South Africa. In the world of constitutional law, these people are considered celebrities. For instance, I had the incredible privilege to meet Christina Murray. She was part of a seven-person panel that advised the South African Constitutional Assembly after the end of apartheid. Additionally, she has been a member of the Standby Team of Senior Mediation Advisors in the UN Department of Political and Peacebuilding Affairs for over ten years. In other words, if intelligence had the power to generate electricity, the UK would’ve experienced a blackout because of this conference.
Among the sessions was "Gender and Rights in Constitution Making," exploring the interplay between gender equality and constitutional reforms. Another session focused on how constitutional frameworks can protect and empower marginalized communities. The debate on "Nationalism and Populism" tackled the challenges posed by rising nationalist and populist movements to constitutional rights and democratic norms. It highlighted the importance of safeguarding constitutional principles in the face of political pressures. The discussion on "Cultural Rights and Traditional Values" balanced cultural preservation with human rights advancements. The speakers brought a wealth of knowledge and unique perspectives, making every moment a valuable learning opportunity. It was fascinating to see everyone sharing stories about their own experiences. One particularly wild moment was when the member from Country X shared how they’re getting rid of a certain clause in their constitution. Country Y’s Senator immediately exclaimed, “Wait, we were planning on following your lead and implementing it in ours!” In response, Country Z’s constitutional reform member turned to the Senator and said, “Hey, we’ve decided to leave it out because we wanted to follow you!”
The discussions were deep. Tracey Robinson, a current professor at the University of the West Indies and former president of the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, delivered a profound presentation on constitutional existentialism. She encouraged the group to grapple with who they would be if the ‘big bad British’ were never there, decolonizing legacies, post-colonial innovations, and reducing conflict tribalism. Additionally, she prompted an examination of our political self-awareness, the individuals and principles we admire, and those we strive to diverge from. She also made us question core conceptions, such as the correlation of gender with societal progress and the ambiguity of this “progress” within such a context.
In the realm of digital rights, one participant likened the state of our world to technofuedalism, and how everyone is a serf. We delved into reflexive law and putting pressure on companies to self-regulate, the drawbacks of “town hall” meetings dominated by interest groups with their own agendas, and the pitfalls of romanticizing the concept of public participation.
The sessions were engaging and timely, but what really made the experience special was the camaraderie that developed among the participants. We didn't just attend sessions; we engaged in deep, meaningful conversations during coffee breaks, meals, and evening walks. It was in these moments that I, a law school intern, formed bonds with the speakers, who showed that they were not just experts but also mentors willing to share their journeys and insights. It was heartwarming to see how we all enjoyed each other’s company so much that we ended up having every meal together.
At lunch I’d sit next to a former senator who had chosen to give up her political position to remain on the constitutional reform commission, and at dinner I’d enjoy seabass with a current senator who, year after year, brought the most constitutional cases before the court against their government. Those moments are what made the experience truly unforgettable.
During his toast at the welcome dinner preceding the workshop, Sumit asked if the attendees were familiar with the myth of Pandora’s box. Everyone nodded their heads. Then he asked us what the sole remaining item was left inside the box, and no one knew the answer. ”Hope,” he said, and expressed his desire for all workshop participants to depart with this sentiment. Then, on the last day of the workshop, the attendees were prompted to share what they’d learned and what had struck them most about the experience. After everyone went, all heads turned to me. Surprised but grateful to contribute, I said, “I’ve studied constitutions in school, but this was my first time seeing the people behind the documents.” (except, of course, Professor Warren) I shared how speaking and connecting with each of them had been a privilege, and how I’d learned immensely from their collective wisdom. I admired their fortitude and bravery, even in the face of immense challenges--safety risks, disappointments, and the heartbreaking reality of seeing their hard work undone, as some of their countries’ constitutions require rewriting time and again. “Your caution is both understandable and important,” I continued. “We’ve talked a lot about the dangers of false hope, and it’s smart of you all to guard against it. But after seeing the passion and resilience in this room, I truly believe there is nothing false about the hope we share here today.”
Shortly afterwards, a former Chief Justice of Guyana approached me and said, “You’re going to make an incredible young lawyer.” He based this partly on how I had just spoken in a room filled with senators, constitution drafters, and justices, and partly because I’m left-handed. “I’ve listened to lawyers for over thirty years, and I know the ones who have that talent to move people.” He’ll never realize how much his words made this left-handed student swell with pride.
As we said our goodbyes I felt a deep connection with the participants. Looking around the room, I saw the faces of people who have dedicated their lives to justice and democracy. It filled me with optimism. The hope in that room was real, and it was powerful. It was a hope grounded in courage, dedication, and a shared vision for a better future.