“The tribunal can only be considered a success if it brings Cambodian society face to face with its history and leads to a better public understanding of the events of 1975-1979.” – Khmer Rough Tribunal, edited by John D. Ciorciari

• Cambodia's International Tribunal trial chambers. Photograph by Adam Kogeman. •

Throughout my excursion to Cambodia I was readily intrigued, challenged and blindsided by the ideas of justice throughout the country. As I spoke with individual upon individual, I was faced with the fundamental question: In a country that has been so traumatized by violence and bloodshed and in a land whose people have been stripped of their humanity and parts of their soul, how can an International Criminal Court, aka the Khmer Rouge Tribunal, insist on a form of justice that potentially serves no justice for the majority of the people?

It was within this Cambodian world where, what had previously appeared to be idealist Western notions of justice, had ultimately become complex and convoluted ideas saturated with polar definitions of justice decreed and justice attained. In my attempt to breakdown the Khmer Rouge trials and what it represented both internationally on a human rights scale and domestically in regards to justice for the Khmer people, two things became clear to me: I was no longer in my element where the scales of justice were the platform for which all deeds and misdeeds were to be governed, and secondly and perhaps most importantly, justice defined for Cambodian people had a very different scope, necessity and depth.

Throughout the country I came across stories of survivors who detailed with exact precision, time and emotion, their daily existence of slavery and torture during the Khmer Rouge period. I listened as their memory recall quickly evolved into tears and reminders of fear, death and violence. As the tone switched into the present Khmer Rouge Trials, I wanted to know what they thought about the usefulness of such government action and in turn, if they felt this “institutionalized justice” was improper, what then would be an appropriate and fitting result to such a dark and tortuous time?

The answer, although simple and raw in its presentation, floored me: “The tribunals are political and do nothing for the people. We want admissions, apologies, rationales, and social justice.” It leaves me questioning the force and magnitude that “justice” should play both domestically and internationally. That is not to say that there were not timeless accounts from other survivors who believe the tribunals are in fact a proper end to the Khmer Rouge time. Many feel that having top officials tried in an international court is a legitimate and weighty comeuppance of personal and social accountability. But, it is due to the staggering divide between the two trains of thought that I began to re-evaluate what justice is and more importantly, what it means to people who seek it?

I find myself attempting to draw a connection between the capacity of the courts to hold “evildoers” accountable and the journey of the person who is seeking admissions and social reconciliation. With this true separation of thought amidst a country that is attempting to rebuild itself, the lingering question remains as to whether these trials are proper means of support in that journey or a true obstacle on the road to recovery? What remains if sentences are given to these elder leaders despite their ages and the years since they perpetrated such violence, but who remain silent still in their apologizes, explanations or personal accountability? Is that truly an effective form of justice? Or, is it, like so many Cambodians echoed, simply a political ploy by the international community to save face against the backdrop of such a dark cloud on our world’s history? Alternatively, it is also possible that the trials simply represent the process of bringing closure to the Khmer people in most documentable of fashions while providing an opportunity for the Cambodian government to emphasize to their citizens that such human rights offenses will not go without consequence.

Unfortunately, each of those questions, along with countless others that do not begin to breach the surface of whether or not there is a proper retributive process that would heal such open wounds, are open ended and for each survivor to answer within themselves. Is it enough for a government to hold trials and attach sentences to those in the twilight of their lives despite their own personal accounts of victimization and abstention in their refusal to answer the screams and cries for accountability?

However, if we are to use justice defined as “the moral principle determining just conduct” then the argument could be made that institutions such as the ICC hold no weight in the discussions of moral accountability. If the only sentence a court is able to enforce is a punitive one where does moral accountability come into play? How is there to be a moral principle established when punitive and corporal punishment do not consider moral accountability when holding trials and handing out sentences?

As circular as the question is, so too is my search for the answer. I wish we lived in a world where the answers to the questions that people seek were easily found and neatly presented. Instead, we must constantly search for our own faith, redemption, closure, and at times, even our own justice. Unfortunately, although there are instruments in place that help us on each of those journeys, there are no overarching solutions for populations as a whole. Inevitably what may work for one may leave a path of destruction for another. And, in the same breath, what may be a suitable and enforceable sense of justice for one, could be nothing more that a placated, apathetic and dry solution of hollow assurances for another.

My hope is that whether it is restorative or retributive, the justice served in Cambodia is sharp enough to penetrate the souls of the victims who seek it and is absolute enough to heal many of the wounds that still bleed from years of silence, empty promises and apathetic ears.

Naseem's blog entry is part of a two-part series written by WIP Contributor Pushpa Iyer's students. In the coming weeks, more entries will follow. Part I, "Legacy, Responsibility, Justice and Spirituality" will contemplate how Cambodia is coping with its painful past. Part II, "Identity, Sex Trafficking, HIV/AIDS and Property Rights" will explore some of the challenges modern-day Cambodia faces. – Ed.

Naseem Ghaffari is an Iranian-American woman living in Monterey, California. In the rare moments when she’s not contemplating life’s next steps, she enjoys watching documentaries and political pundits evaluate banter, listening to BBC radio and quiet Sunday mornings of coffee, reading and outdoor adventures.

Naseem recently graduated from the Monterey Institute of International Studies where she received a certification in Conflict Resolution and Negotiations. Prior to that time, she studied law in San Francisco and has been writing since her early years at University. She is now searching is now looking forward to a career in International relations and peacekeeping.