This bonfire ceremony, which took place in Bombali District, Northern Sierra Leone, was organized by a local organization, Fambul Tok, as part of a program that aimed to help people move past their war-related experiences from the decade-long civil conflict (1991–2002). The conflict, which largely began as a result of disenfranchised youth, ravaged all parts of the country and became renowned for the particularly brutal levels of violence that ensued, such as amputations, rape and the abduction of child soldiers (Abdullah et al. Reference Abdullah, Ibrahim and King2010; Ferme Reference Ferme2001; Park Reference Park2007; Mackenzie Reference Mackenzie2010; Mitton Reference Mitton2015a). After the war, various transitional justice mechanisms were implemented, which, at least in part, sought to help Sierra Leoneans address these violent experiences. Unlike other post-conflict mechanisms in Sierra Leone – such as the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) and Special Court for Sierra Leone (SCSL) – Fambul Tok attempted to create space for people (both victims and perpetrators) to discuss and reconcile their wartime experiences through what were promoted as more locally relevant channels. Sierra Leoneans, however, had diverse experiences of the war and post-war periods, both in how they encountered violence and their engagement with notions of transitions and justice.

Fambul Tok is emblematic of more recent trends that have sought to localize transitional justice programs and processes. Broadly speaking, transitional justice (TJ) is an umbrella term that refers to mechanisms and programs employed in the wake of authoritarianism or armed conflict to help states and societies move past experiences of violence and repression (Bell Reference Bell2009; Buckley-Zistel et al. Reference Buckley-Zistel, Beck, Braun, Mieth, Buckley-Zistel, Beck, Braun and Mieth2014). While the Nuremberg trials are generally regarded as one of the first TJ efforts, such efforts became more prominent in the 1980s and early 1990s when authoritarian countries were transitioning from authoritarian regimes to democracies (Arthur Reference Arthur2009; Roht-Arriaza Reference Roht-Arriaza, Roht-Arriaza and Mariezcurrena2006). Generally speaking, transitional justice initiatives have largely been top-down and internationally driven and have commonly materialized through different types of courts, truth commissions and reparations programs (among others). They have, in many respects, become the “go-to” toolkit for addressing authoritarian and post-conflict societies (Clark and Palmer Reference Clark, Palmer, Palmer, Clark and Granville2012; Lutz Reference Lutz, Roht-Arriaza and Mariezcurrena2006; Nagy and Williams Reference Williams, Nagy, Williams, Nagy and Elster2012). It was not until the early 2000s, after such mechanisms had been critiqued for being too distanced from target populations, that notions related to “local,” “ownership,” “participation” and “victim-centric” (Hinton Reference Hinton and Hinton2011; Lundy and McGovern Reference Lundy, McGovern, McEvoy and McGregor2008; Robins Reference Robins2011; Sharp Reference Sharp2014; Shaw and Waldorf Reference Waldorf, Shaw, Waldorf and Hazan2010) were more explicitly integrated into TJ discourse and practice.

Localizing these processes and programs is supposed to better reflect the contextually specific needs and priorities of those impacted by violence (MacDonald Reference MacDonald2015; Shaw and Waldorf Reference Waldorf, Shaw, Waldorf and Hazan2010). Programs such as Mato Oput in Uganda and the Gacaca Courts in Rwanda (discussed in greater detail below) have paved the way for recognizing the legitimacy of and potential for localizing transitional justice and reconciliation in practice (Huyse Reference Huyse, Huyse and Salter2008; Sharp Reference Sharp2014). Founded in 2008, Fambul Tok also embodied many of the characteristics of what qualified as a local program: It was founded and has been exclusively staffed by Sierra Leoneans, traditions and rituals are a crucial part of their program, they primarily work in more rural areas and community ownership and participation are central to their mandate and approach (Kochanski Reference Kochanski2020; Sharp Reference Sharp2018). In practice, however, local TJ mechanisms are also problematic, and are often interpreted and engaged with by participants in multiple and diverse ways. As I will examine in this book, local experiences, needs and priorities cannot necessarily be addressed by one approach, set-aside space or institution, regardless of whether or not it is considered local. The people and places who make up so-called local contexts shape and are shaped by broader structures and power dynamics (both internally and internationally), which influence intended and unintended outcomes of these processes.

Academic studies on TJ mechanisms have tended to measure the impact and effectiveness of these programs against their own goals (Cilliers et al. Reference Cilliers, Dube and Siddiqi2016; Van der Merwe et al. Reference Van der Merwe, Baxter, Chapman, Van der Merwe, Baxter and Chapman2009). This has resulted in a robust literature that largely focuses on the institutions and programs themselves, often ignoring the social and political backdrops in which they are enacted (Gready and Robins Reference Gready, Robins, Gready and Robins2019; Sharp Reference Sharp2018). These institutions, organizations and programs are what I refer to as recognized mechanisms – official bodies and institutions with preconceived goals and processes that are already part of the transitional justice “toolkit.” As local mechanisms and programs, particularly those with donor funding and operating through NGOs and formalized institutions, have become increasingly legitimized, these programs have also become part of what is deemed an acceptable “tool” in the toolkit. Although Fambul Tok is supposed to better align with the social and cultural needs of Sierra Leonean communities (Anderson Reference Anderson, Ndaliko and Anderson2020; Boas and Tom Reference Bøås, Tom, Richmond and Pogodda2016; Girelli Reference Girelli2017; Lambourne Reference Lambourne and Clamp2016; Park Reference Park2010; Van der Merwe and Brankovic Reference Van der Merwe, Brankovic, Williams and Woolaver2016), it still functions as an institution, implementing a particular program blueprint in each area the organization operates and are thus very much part of the recognized category. Participants, however, had differing perspectives and engagements with the program. The opening anecdote provides a snapshot of the diverse attitudes toward speaking publicly about the conflict. It demonstrates how, in spite of the organization advocating for war-related discussions in more familiar and culturally relevant settings, this was not necessarily desired or a priority for many Sierra Leoneans, particularly twelve years after the war. This, however, does not mean that people did not engage with or benefit from the program; they did, just not in the ways that were intended. Rather, individuals and communities capitalized on different aspects of Fambul Tok’s program, which suggests that it was the participants, not the organization, who shaped the outcomes.

This agency, however, extends beyond the confines of recognized institutions and programs. Individuals also engage in a variety of unrecognized mechanisms – processes outside the official institutional scope and discourse not traditionally understood or recognized by the transitional justice community as part of the toolkit – that help people gradually move past their wartime experiences and re-obtain a sense of normality in their everyday lives. This includes processes of social and economic restoration, as well as agricultural and religious engagement. By examining unrecognized mechanisms, we are able to deconstruct linear notions of transition and analyze how local transitional justice is made up of individual activities occurring in multiple temporalities. There are a variety of ways in which people without access to or interest in recognized mechanisms are able to move past their war-related experiences (in some form). While places like Sierra Leone do tend to think in more communal terms (in whatever community that may be), it is nonetheless important to acknowledge that individuals also had diverse experiences of violence and a range of perspectives about what constituted transition and justice. Thus, while some aspects and dimensions of these experiences can be thought of as communal, it is also important to explore the individual within the context of their own communities.

By looking at these diverse activities, engagements and outcomes of both recognized and unrecognized mechanisms, the following chapters will examine the many ways in which “transitional justice actually functions in [those] places and times and attend[s] to local experiences, priorities, and practices” (Shaw and Waldorf Reference Waldorf, Shaw, Waldorf and Hazan2010, 4). In so doing, they will question the foundational assumptions upon which these programs are based and examine the various dynamics between different locals at play within these settings. Building upon literature in development studies (Ferguson Reference Ferguson1994; Mosse and Lewis 2006), this book seeks to go beyond discussions in transitional justice of “societies,” “organizations” and “program effectiveness” and looks more specifically at individuals and communities and their different activities in times of transition, how justice is enacted through a range of processes and how priorities shift over time. This book argues that transitional justice does not happen to or for post-conflict societies; rather, individuals and communities creatively engage with these programs to produce outcomes based on their own needs and priorities that help them move past both war-related experiences and more contemporary issues. In so doing, the analysis adds to a growing body of politics and development literature that looks not at whether things (such as institutions and processes) behave as they should or as they are expected to but at how things actually work in practice (Bierschenk and Olivier de Sardan Reference Bierschenk, Olivier de Sardan, Bierschenk and Olivier de Sardan2014).

Transitional Justice: A Brief Review

Transitional justice emerged as a recognized academic field in the late 1980s and early 1990s when many Latin American and Eastern European countries were transitioning from dictatorships to democracies (Arthur Reference Arthur2009; Roht-Arriaza Reference Roht-Arriaza, Roht-Arriaza and Mariezcurrena2006).Footnote ² At the time, transitional justice referred to dealing with a specific category of crimes, largely gross human rights violations committed under repressive regimes. The two key goals were to provide some measure of justice for those who had suffered and to ensure stable democracies. Peace and reconciliation were understood to be at odds with justice for victims or individuals of these regimes, resulting in a “peace versus justice” debate (Leebaw Reference Leebaw2008; Orentlicher Reference Orentlicher2007). In short, the early years of transitional justice primarily focused on the stability of the state and a transition to democracy. Fundamental assumptions about democracy and democratic citizenship went unquestioned, and more specific needs and priorities of societies or individuals were not as prominent at this point in time (Arthur Reference Arthur2009).

In the mid-1990s, however, transitional justice mechanisms expanded to also redress gross human rights violations committed during periods of violent conflict. Therefore, the question of “transition to what” also became a reference to a transition from conflict to peace (Leebaw Reference Leebaw2008; Sharp 2015). In response to these shifts, international criminal tribunals were established to hold individuals accountable for the atrocities committed during the conflicts in the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda. In so doing, these tribunals aimed to help the establishment of peace, demonstrating how the peace versus justice debate “largely shifted from whether to pursue some form of transitional justice, to what form it should take, what the degree of international involvement should be and who should be targeted” (Kerr and Mobekk Reference Kerr and Mobekk2007, 2). From this period onward, it was widely assumed that peace and justice were mutually reinforcing (Nagy Reference Nagy2008; Sriram Reference Sriram, Sriram and Pillay2009).

There were (and in many ways still are) particularly high expectations, especially in the international justice community, about what these international courts were able to achieve and their potential to deter future war crimes more globally (Cronin-Furman Reference Cronin-Furman2013; Nickson and Neikirk Reference Nickson and Neikirk2018; Subotic Reference Subotic2010). However, the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR) and the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY), as well as the rationale underpinning these tribunals, have been heavily scrutinized (Clark Reference Clark2008; Hinton Reference Hinton and Hinton2011). There was an underlying assumption that justice was equated with courts and individualizing justice (Moghalu Reference Moghalu2006). As Nicola Palmer (Reference Palmer2015) points out, though, both these institutions had to go through a process of legitimizing themselves, which would suggest that courts were not necessarily self-evident forms of justice for local populations impacted by conflict-related violence. Their design and implementation were predicated upon liberal assumptions about how justice is understood and the relationship between courts and the people for whom they were created. These tribunals were also physically removed from the areas where violence had occurred (the ICTY was located in The Hague, while the ICTR was located in Arusha, Tanzania) and many individuals did not understand or relate to the technical legal nature of these trials. If individuals do not relate to the means through which justice is being facilitated, it is difficult to imagine how this could lead to any genuine form of societal or individual sense of reconciliation. Therefore, individuals were both physically and psychologically distanced from these tribunals (Gready Reference Gready2005; Stover and Weinstein Reference Stover, Weinstein, Stover and Weinstein2004). The notion that justice could have a broad range of meanings or that people needed to be more involved in these processes was not reflected in discussions about international tribunals and ultimately pushed the debate to a discussion about localizing these processes (Sharp Reference Sharp2018). As Bert Ingelaere points out in the case of Rwanda, people “simply prefer the justice of proximity” (2008, 51). These criticisms led practitioners to reevaluate some aspects of the juridical model, which would ultimately be reflected in the localization of the hybrid court model designed in Sierra Leone.

Another critical moment on the “transitional justice timeline” was during the mid-1990s when the Truth and Reconciliation Commission was established in South Africa. Truth commissions, which are set up to investigate human rights abuses and provide a forum for individuals to discuss their experiences of violence and repression (Chapman and Ball Reference Chapman and Ball2001; Hayner Reference Hayner2002; Minow Reference Minow1998), can, in theory, provide a sense of closure and reconciliation. While I do not intend to interrogate the theoretical contours of “truth” and “reconciliation” in this book, the South African case study is important to highlight in order to establish critical shifts in transitional justice discourse and practice. While truth commissions can also be problematic and are, like courts, based on a set of assumptions about the nature of truth and truth-telling as cathartic (Mendeloff Reference Mendeloff2004; Shaw Reference Shaw2007), the South African TRC aimed to demonstrate that invoking a reconciliation framework achieved goals similar to those of other transitional justice mechanisms and that reconciliation/restoration can themselves be a form of justice. Reconciliation, broadly speaking, has been adapted as a “container concept” (Buckley-Zistel Reference Buckley-Zistel2008, 139) to discuss political and social processes after violent conflicts and often employs participatory components such as truth-telling, acknowledgement and forgiveness that enable people to move beyond their animosity (Daly and Sarkin Reference Daly and Sarkin2007; Friedman Reference Friedman2017). This is commonly associated with restorative justice, as it also aims to restore relationships that resulted from wrongdoing. Whereas retributive justice seeks to prosecute individuals for wrongdoing, restorative justice takes a more holistic approach, attempting to restore a community as a whole (Johnstone Reference Johnstone2011; Llewellyn and Philpott Reference Llewellyn, Philpott, Llewellyn and Philpott2014). These were some of the key goals of the South African TRC.

The other reason the South African TRC is important to highlight is because it was the first national TJ initiative to cite an indigenous concept in the name of “culture” and “tradition” and align it with a justice framework (Daly and Sarkin Reference Daly and Sarkin2007). Archbishop Desmond Tutu championed the term Ubuntu, which expressed a community based on reciprocity, respect for human dignity, cohesion and solidarity. The South African Truth and Reconciliation Report translates Ubuntu as “humanness”. It is described by a Constitutional Court justice as emphasising: “respect for human dignity, marking a shift from confrontation to conciliation” (2002, Vol. 1, 127). Richard Wilson (Reference Wilson2001) describes Ubuntu as an ideological concept where notions of human rights, restorative justice, reconciliation and nation-building converge under the umbrella of a populist pan-African rhetoric. The notion of aligning an indigenous concept with reconciliation generalized restorative justice as “inherently African.” Framing particular mechanisms in the context of traditional and cultural values was a new and important shift in transitional justice that ultimately became very influential in future programs and paved the way for localizing transitional justice.

Great Expectations? Localizing Transitional Justice

The relative success of the South African TRC combined with the harsh critiques of international criminal tribunals generated shifts in transitional justice practice. As a result, notions of local and local ownership became more central to the design and implementation of these programs and processes. One scholar demonstrates how quickly this shift occurred, pointing out that in the 1992 Agenda for Peace report, the word “local” does not appear. However, in a 2011 UNDP Governance for Peace document the world “local” appears 197 times (Mac Ginty Reference Mac Ginty2015, 840). Engaging with the local (in some form) has thus come to be understood as a necessary element of post-conflict institutions and programs. Advocates often argue that localizing these mechanisms means that they are more culturally salient, cost effective and closer to the victims of the actual crimes and can, therefore, better respond to their needs (Kochanski Reference Kochanski2020, 27). Tailoring particular strategies to unique social and political experiences can help to foster support, promote participation and facilitate ownership (Kochanski Reference Kochanski2020, 27). Dustin Sharp points out how localizing can actually refer to different categories, namely “control (agency, decision making, funding), process (bottom-up, participatory, homegrown) and substance (values, practices, priorities)” (2018, 42). Local and localization can, therefore, refer to a wide range of practices which can be anything from small symbolic acts or nods to particular populations to entire programs and processes.

Similar to the initially high expectations of international criminal courts, localization efforts also yielded high expectations. In the mid-2000s, there was a sense among both practitioners and academics that localizing these processes was somehow a silver bullet to addressing the growing pains of a rapidly expanding field that had initially placed a significant focus on criminal prosecutions (e.g., Huyse Reference Huyse, Huyse and Salter2008; McEvoy Reference McEvoy, McEvoy and McGregor2008; Roht-Arriaza Reference Roht-Arriaza, Roht-Arriaza and Mariezcurrena2006; Stover and Weinstein Reference Stover, Weinstein, Stover and Weinstein2004; UN Security Council 2004). By engaging with more locally specific dimensions – either processes “invented” or locally repurposed to address particular conflicts, such as the Gacaca tribunals, or incorporating what were thought to be locally relevant traditions into existing mechanisms, such as the ceremonies at the TRC in Sierra Leone and East Timor – transitional justice advocates seemingly believed this would overcome a lot of the processual and substantive criticisms from the 1990s. It was also hoped that these mechanisms would have a greater impact and connection to the populations for whom justice is being served. As discussed below though, local mechanisms have also faced their own criticisms. In fact, the reasons these expectations were not necessarily met largely derived from similar foundational assumptions and expectations about the capacity of transitional justice mechanisms more generally.

Over the past twenty years, various post-conflict societies have embraced more local approaches or programs. Commonly cited examples of these programs include Timor-Leste, Rwanda and Uganda. After the twenty-four-year long repressive Indonesian occupation of Timor-Leste, a 1999 referendum ushered in independence. The Commission for Reception, Truth and Reconciliation (CAVR) was established in an attempt to facilitate reconciliation for those who had suffered during this period. The Commission was a hybrid of concepts from criminal law, civil procedure, mediation and local traditions called nahe biti boot, as well as established practices referred to as adat or lisan, which aimed, in part, to facilitate local participation and communal reconciliation (Drexler Reference Drexler and Hinton2009; Kent Reference Kent2012). The Gacaca courts, which took place between 2002 and 2012 in communities across Rwanda, were established to address certain categories of crimes committed during the 1994 genocide due in part to the fact that the ICTR was unable to prosecute most of the perpetrators who had committed crimes. Gacaca purported to be a historically traditional conflict resolution mechanism revived to meet the needs of an overstretched post-genocidal state (Clark Reference Clark2010; Ingelaere Reference Ingelaere2016). Finally, traditional Acholi rituals, such as Mato Oput and Nyono Tong Gweno, were invoked in the mid-2000s in response to crimes committed in Northern Uganda, which served as a battleground between the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) and government forces from 1987 to the mid-2000s (although the LRA continues to exist in much smaller numbers). These programs also attempted to establish justice and reconciliation in accordance with alleged local ideas and experiences (Baines Reference Baines2007; Finnstrom Reference Finnström, Shaw, Waldorf and Hazan2010; Latigo Reference Latigo, Huyse and Salter2008). Other examples of similar processes can be found in places like Mozambique (Igreja Reference Igreja2012), Burundi (Nee and Uvin Reference Nee, Uvin, Shaw, Waldorf and Hazan2010) and Guatemala (Arriaza and Roht-Arriaza Reference Arriaza and Roht-Arriaza2008). While these latter processes were not necessarily streamlined as part of an institutional program per se, they encompassed similar ideas and characteristics, such as traditional rituals and local practices, as ones that were part of more formalized structures.

Proponents of these local processes and programs argue that they embody values similar to transitional justice and human rights agendas. As Adam Branch points out: “[Some] argue that traditional justice in fact represents an indigenization of universal human rights standards and adheres to the same values and human rights protections as more orthodox forms of Western justice” (2011, 155). In other words, localizing these programs constituted a mere translation of similar concepts and ideas into local idioms (Merry Reference Merry2006, 42).

Many scholars, however, have also criticized these processes. One common line of critique is based on the extent to which they are authentically local. In reference to Gacaca, for example, many have pointed to the fact that it bore little resemblance to its original form (Reyntjens and Vandeginste Reference Reyntjens, Vandeginste, Skaar, Gloppen and Suhrke2005; Waldorf Reference Waldorf, Shaw, Waldorf and Hazan2010), lawyers posed concerns about fairness and due process (although legal systems anywhere embody “constellations of power”) (Thomson and Nagy Reference Thomson and Nagy2011) and, perhaps most importantly, that the process became part of a larger post-conflict political project of consolidating state control. For Gacaca, this meant that only Hutus were tried at Gacaca, even though the Tutsi-led Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) had also committed crimes, and later that attendance became mandatory for community members (Doughty Reference Doughty2017; Ingalaere 2016). As Gacaca proceeded, the politicization of it also increased: “Accusing people in gacaca thus became a means of taking revenge on enemies, eliminating rivals, and – for the government – removing potential critics” (Longman 2009, 309). Interestingly though, as Barbara Oomen (Reference Oomen2005) points out, the donor community first proposed the idea of using customary systems to deal with certain crimes committed during the genocide due to their extensive number and nature. This perhaps illustrates how the international community had a romanticized idea of what localizing justice might look like. Ultimately, though, national politics play out within spaces of transition (Subotic Reference Subotic2010; Vialle Reference Vialle2017), and state aims do not necessarily align with international agendas, or even if they do, their rationales may have different political motivations.

There are similar criticisms with regard to Ugandan rituals, which call into question the authenticity of these rituals, namely the fact that they were not performed correctly (in that people did not drink the concoction, nor agree on compensation) and in the case of Tim Allen’s research, most of the rituals he saw or investigated had nothing to do with the conflict itself. He largely points to the fact that many of these programs were encouraged and championed by the international donor community, including the Belgian government, but were of little interest and had minimal impact in Northern Uganda (Allen Reference Allen2007). Adam Branch has referred to these rituals as part of the ethnojustice agenda, “in which the fulfilment of justice is equated with the establishment of what is considered a traditional social order” (2014, 614). In other words, reestablishing old traditions will facilitate peace and (transitional) justice. As Barbara Meier states: “[I]t has become clear that mato oput has not developed into any kind of codified practice – mostly due to the misinterpretations and over-expectations of the practice of peace advocates and the inadequacy of this kind of ritual to settle the wider-reaching legacies of the conflict between rebels and the state army” (2013, 46). While this process was much different from Gacaca in many ways, there are similarities in that these localized notions were eagerly promoted by donors, who potentially saw these mechanisms through romanticized rose-tinted glasses but without necessarily consulting those most impacted by conflict and violence. In other words, just because something has been labeled local does not necessarily mean it was consultative or aligned with the needs and priorities of those for whom justice and reconciliation were being sought.

These critiques are emblematic of broader issues in the design and implementation of localizing transitional justice, and perhaps, to some extent, unreasonably high expectations of those funding and implementing these programs. It begs questions about whose knowledge (local or otherwise) is privileged in the design and implementation of these processes, the ways in which power structures inform and are informed by particular mechanisms (bearing in mind different groups, such as donors, national elites, survivors, ex-combatants), as well as whether the desire and actual capacity to facilitate these programs really exist (Julian et al. Reference Julian, Bliesemann de Guevara and Redhead2019; Salehi Reference Salehi2022). In addition, perhaps the most obvious critique of these engagements with local components is that these groups are not in fact homogenous, but rather individual experiences, epistemologies and expectations will ultimately dictate how justice will be defined. In other words, the high and perhaps romanticized expectations (predominantly from international practitioners and scholars) were not necessarily a “cure-all” for transitional justice. Such expectations are, in my view, reflective of broader foundational assumptions about what it is transitional justice processes are in fact able to deliver and for whom.

However, this tendency to focus on things like authenticity, in conjunction with discussions measuring the impact and effectiveness of these processes against their own goals, means that much of the scholarship has overlooked how individuals and communities actually engage and appropriate these programs on their own terms. As Adam Kochanski has very recently pointed out, even twenty years on from when many of these programs began, there is still significant scope for research that examines processes “not as these interventions are imagined or realized but, rather, as they actually play out in practice” (2020, 48). This book does precisely that, in the context of Sierra Leone.

Sierra Leone’s Civil Conflict

Sierra Leone’s civil conflict began in 1991 when the Revolutionary United Front (RUF) vanguard crossed the border into eastern Sierra Leone from Liberia. The invasion marked the beginning of a decade-long civil conflict (1991–2002) that infiltrated virtually every part of the country. However, tenuous allegiances and shifting relationships meant there were different rebel factions and changes in political leadership over the course of the conflict. This also meant that violence was more present in different regions at different periods in time. Violence and intimidation against civilians were commonplace throughout the war, as were challenging social and economic circumstances. The vast majority of Sierra Leoneans were thus impacted in some shape or form. The war was officially declared over in 2002 at the closing ceremony of the DDR program. The eleven-year conflict resulted in over 50,000 killed and thousands more injured (Bellows and Miguel Reference Bellows and Miguel2009).

Different types of violence ensued in all phases of the conflict, and actors on all sides performed “horrifying acts of cruelty as routine” (Mitton Reference Mitton2015a, 2), which serves to, as Lee Ann Fuiji states, “upend the status quo … and by doing so, violate and harm the larger social bodies those individuals represent” (2022: 94; also see Hoffman Reference Hoffman2011). This included (but was certainly not limited to) the conscription of child soldiers, burning homes (often with people inside them), various types of torture, amputations, sexual assault, rape and female enslavement (or bush wives, as they were commonly known) (Mitton Reference Mitton2015a, 4). People were also often forced to commit these acts in a “killed or be killed” scenario, making the victim–perpetrator dichotomy difficult to determine (Ibrahim Reference Ibrahim2009; MacLure and Denov Reference Denov and MacLure2006). Furthermore, attacks were often perpetrated by people with whom victims were previously acquainted or familiar. This entrenched a sense of distrust between individuals and undermined foundations of co-existence, particularly in rural communities where people heavily rely on one another in everyday life (TRC Report 2004, Vol. 3A, 515).

Sierra Leoneans, regionally speaking, had diverse and multiple experiences of the conflict. In Bombali District, where I conducted the majority of my research, rebel factions had a much greater presence toward the end of the war (Bolten Reference Bolten2012a). Due to shifting rebel alliances and a lack of central command, this period of the conflict, commonly referred to as Phase III, was much more chaotic. Armed groups had transformed into a more diverse group of people with differing, often opportunistic, agendas. They were no longer bound by particular core group values or ideologies (to the extent they ever really were), and violence perpetrated against people was not as targeted as it had been in other phases. This period was characterized more by looting and property destruction than the extreme violence so often highlighted in accounts of Sierra Leone (Smith et al. Reference Smith, Gambette and Longley2004). This is certainly not to downplay people’s experiences, as all types of violence occurred during this period. Rather, it is simply to highlight that key documentation on the conflict (such as the TRC report), as well as my own informant interviews, suggests that individuals and communities at this particular point in the war were primarily impacted economically, losing substantial food and property which proved difficult to replace and repair. As much as physical violence, these experiences also had significant and long-term ramifications that are still visible.

While there were trends in and commonalities between the overall regional experiences of Sierra Leoneans, it is also important to highlight that war is neither linear nor universally experienced. Indeed, individuals were the subjects of violence, but they also navigated difficult and often (although not always) challenging periods in times of conflict (Nordstrom Reference Nordstrom1997; Vigh Reference Vigh2006). Accounts from Bombali largely emphasized how the war “did not start” until the mid- to late 1990s, when they personally encountered violence and difficult social and economic circumstances. These challenges affected people to greater and lesser degrees, though. The diversity and nuance of these experiences (explored in greater detail in the next chapter) are often not reflected in the design and implementation of recognized transitional justice mechanisms (including local initiatives), which tend to deal with neat binaries, such as victims and perpetrators, the politically motivated and nonpolitically motivated and men and women.

Experimenting with Transitional Justice: A (Sierra Leonean) Laboratory

As the war gradually came to a close in the early 2000s, local and international actors began debating questions surrounding retribution, justice and reconciliation. Incidentally, this period coincided with ongoing criticisms about international criminal courts more generally and how they were “too distanced” (Gready Reference Gready2005) from the people for whom justice was being done. There was also recognition that a “one-size-fits-all” approach to dealing with past violence was not necessarily legitimate or effective (Lundy and McGovern Reference Lundy, McGovern, McEvoy and McGregor2008; Nagy Reference Nagy2008). This resulted in a shift to more holistic approaches, wherein multiple post-conflict programs and processes were implemented simultaneously.

This was certainly the case in Sierra Leone, where the time frames in which the Disarmament, Demobilization and Reintegration (DDR) program, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), the Special Court for Sierra Leone (SCSL), the reparations program and Fambul Tok overlapped with each other at different points. While the DDR program (1998–2002) aimed to disarm and reintegrate ex-combatants across the country, the TRC (2002–2004) was supposed to create an impartial report about the conflict, address impunity and cultivate healing and reconciliation among the general population, whereas the SCSL (2002–2013) indicted thirteen individuals who bore the greatest responsibility for crimes committed during (parts of) the conflict (Kelsall Reference Kelsall2010; Shaw Reference Shaw2007).Footnote ⁴ The operation of these mechanisms simultaneously, though, sometimes created confusion for Sierra Leoneans. For example, the TRC and the Special Court were both conducting interviews in the early 2000s. This resulted in challenges for the TRC because people feared their statements would lead to prosecutions at the Special Court (Shaw Reference Shaw, Shaw, Waldorf and Hazan2010; TRC Report 2004, Vol. 1).

In addition, Sierra Leonean transitional justice mechanisms, particularly the Special Court and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, were designed and implemented concurrent to shifting discussions about the ownership and legitimacy of these processes and programs, and a turn to the local (Dougherty Reference Dougherty2004). Ultimately, both institutions attempted to incorporate local components into their processes. For example, the SCSL was located in Sierra Leone and included Sierra Leonean lawyers and legal frameworks. They also designed and implemented a comprehensive outreach program to spread awareness about proceedings across the country (Anders Reference Anders, Eckert, Biner, Doahue and Strumpell2012; Tejan-Cole Reference Tejan-Cole, Pillay and Sriram2009). The TRC employed Sierra Leonean statement takers and facilitated culturally relevant rituals at the closing ceremonies in each respective district (Kelsall Reference Kelsall2005; Millar Reference Millar2010).

However, the ways in which “localization occurred” were based more on how institutional architects and preexisting blueprints understood this than an actual reflection of Sierra Leonean desires and priorities. Sierra Leone thus became what a member of the TRC referred to as a “laboratory” (Schabas Reference Schabas2003, 1065) to explore how different transitional justice mechanisms operate simultaneously and the impact and effectiveness of localizing them. However, John Caulker,Footnote ⁵ a Sierra Leonean civil society leader and human rights activist who led the TRC working group, found that although these mechanisms had attempted to engage with the people for whom justice was being done, they had fallen short. These critiques would lay the groundwork for the organization he founded a few years later: Fambul Tok.

Fambul Tok: A Case Study

Fambul Tok is a Sierra Leonean nongovernmental organization founded in 2008, six years after the official end of the war. At the time, the DDR program had finished, the TRC had concluded and published its report and recommendations and SCSL proceedings were ongoing. Caulker was head of the Truth and Reconciliation Working Group, a group of civil society leaders and practitioners who explored the impacts and perceptions of the TRC from a range of different Sierra Leonean perspectives, but particularly the grassroots. They ultimately published a report that highlighted some of the ways in which the TRC had failed to adequately incorporate Sierra Leonean ownership and participation (Sierra Leone Truth and Reconciliation Commission Working Group Report 2006). When they initially began operating, Fambul Tok’s core aim was to fill the perceived reconciliation gap in rural areas that other transitional justice institutions had been unable or unwilling to fill. The organization’s primary reconciliation events were the bonfire ceremonies, where victims and perpetrators (as they are referred to by the organization) were encouraged to discuss their war-related experiences, where perpetrators could publicly apologize for their wrongdoing and victims could accept. Participants could also simply tell their stories, without any intention of reconciling, as many did not know who had wronged them.

After the ceremonies, Fambul Tok encouraged village members to form groups and engage in development-related activities that were meant to continue galvanizing unity. These activities included the designation of peace trees, which act as locations for settling disputes; radio listening clubs where people can broadcast issues through the Sierra Leone Broadcasting service from their particular districts; football matches for youths and community farms, which (at least in theory) provided spaces for victims and perpetrators to work together (Fambul Tok book 2011, 86–88). The organization emphasizes how reconciliation is not a one-time event, but a process that needs to be cultivated. In this vein, the bonfire ceremony and follow-up activities sought to restore communal relations and facilitate events based on already existing activities and priorities that would help promote peace and development. Notably too, the organization advocated for community members to design and implement these events at all stages of the process. This model and these mantras became the skeleton for their program, which at the time of my research operated in six of then fourteen districts in Sierra Leone.

To date, there has been limited academic analysis of Fambul Tok. For the most part, the organization is commonly cited as an example of a post-conflict organization that has engaged with local traditions and emphasized restorative justice (Bøås and Tom Reference Bøås, Tom, Richmond and Pogodda2016; Boege and Rinck Reference Boege and Rinck2019; Girelli Reference Girelli2017; Graybill Reference Graybill2017; Iliff Reference Iliff2012; Lambourne Reference Lambourne and Clamp2016; Schotmans 2014; Van der Merwe and Brankovic Reference Van der Merwe, Brankovic, Williams and Woolaver2016). There is also some research which analyzes their educational programs in schools (Higgins Reference Higgins2019; Shepler and Williams Reference Shepler and Williams2017), an initiative that had only recently begun when I was doing fieldwork in 2014. Only a few researchers, however, have attended bonfire ceremonies and critically engaged with the organizational framework, including their approach to justice and reconciliation. Laura Stovel (Reference Stovel2010) for example, writes a skeptical account of a bonfire ceremony she attended in her book’s epilogue based on a fairly normative understanding of justice and public apologies. Rebekka Friedman (Reference Friedman, Ainley, Friedman and Mahony2015), who analyzed different reconciliation processes in Sierra Leone, questioned the organization’s engagement with traditional chieftaincy structures and whether the program risks overemphasizing their roles and re-establishing “pre-war patrimonial hierarchies and power structures” (2015, 70). Samuel Mark Anderson (Reference Anderson, Ndaliko and Anderson2020) has shown how the traditions that Fambul Tok emphasize are “invented,” and highlight the hierarchies and power relations between communities and Fambul Tok staff – points that I also emphasize and expand upon in this book.

In addition, Cilliers et al. (Reference Cilliers, Dube and Siddiqi2016) undertook a quantitative randomized control trial (RCT) study that worked in five districts from 2010 to 2014 and surveyed approximately ten individuals in three waves over a thirty-one-month period from 100 treatment communities with Fambul Tok and 100 control communities which had not had any contact with Fambul Tok. The principal investigators were American-based economists, but the project was run through a research non-profit organization, Innovations for Poverty Action (IPA), based in Sierra Leone. Their data concluded that Fambul Tok’s program led to better social cohesion in “treated” communities but that individuals who participated in the bonfire ceremonies had worsened psychological health over time (Cilliers et al. Reference Cilliers, Dube and Siddiqi2016, 787).

Such a quantitative approach however, while broad in scope, does not really capture the many dynamics “at work,” both within the program and in post-conflict societies more generally. The study, which relied on quantitative surveys, makes profound assumptions about the capacity to measure complex and culturally specific concepts, such as “forgiveness,” “reconciliation” and “trauma,” not to mention the literal translation of this terminology in actual data collection. Further, shifts in behavior over time and depression and anxiety, particularly in impoverished villages, are almost certainly the result of a multitude of factors that have little or nothing to do with the organization or a one-time bonfire experience. As Samuel Mark Anderson points out, this study is a “particular scientific approach to ritual efficacy with its own ritual effects. It reduces complex variable to abstract symbols … Its models of efficacy are only unquestionable in so far as a set of central assumptions remain unquestioned” (2020, 271). This book, on the other hand, provides a more nuanced, in-depth discussion of the organization. It is the only study that provides in-depth ethnographic insights into the inter-workings of the organization and the communities where they worked. It moves beyond measuring the impact and effectiveness of the program and looks at the actual activity and multi-layered power dynamics at work at all points in the program, from the initial meetings between stakeholders and the organization up through the bonfire ceremonies and thereafter.

A Note on Research Methods

This book is the result of a combination of primary and secondary source material. In gathering the primary source material, I used various qualitative methods to investigate and analyze local dynamics of justice and transition in Sierra Leone. Due to its interdisciplinary and multifaceted nature, the transitional justice framework easily lends itself to a combination of different approaches. Christine Bell notes how the two main thrusts in transitional justice research are the conceptual (involving attempts to examine links between transitional justice and a broad range of other goals) and the empirical (attempts to research and “measure” the relationship between transitional justice and its asserted goals) (2009, 10–11). This research uses empirical evidence from these different qualitative approaches to examine the activity of communities in order to contribute to the conceptual debates. This research combines these thrusts to provide a “thick” exploration of transitional justice (McEvoy Reference McEvoy, McEvoy and McGregor2008, 17). This means dismissing many of the formal, normative assumptions underpinning transitional justice and engaging with the complex dimensions and interactions occurring in post-conflict settings.

Chapter 2, which provides an overview of the civil conflict, draws on a combination of primary and secondary sources, due to the fact that the conflict has been written about and extensively analyzed by a range of excellent scholars. I do, however, draw on informant interviews to engage with more localized experiences of the areas where I worked to provide a more individual and communal sense of the conflict. Chapter 3 partially relies on a discourse analysis of Fambul Tok’s own media materials, particularly their book, DVD documentary and website, to analyze how they project themselves as local and facilitate ownership, and how notions of tradition and culture were employed. The rest of the book, however, relies primarily on my own field research, conducted from 2013 to 2016 in Bombali District, Northern Sierra Leone (Map 1.1).

Map 1.1 Sierra Leone district map

Source: kosmozoo / Getty Images

Primary research was conducted both alongside Fambul Tok staff and outside of the organization. While I was based in Bombali’s capital city – Makeni – the majority of research took place in small communities several hours away. During fieldwork, I employed two types of qualitative methods, participant observation and semi-structured interviews, and conducted the research in two separate phases. In early 2014, I traveled with Fambul Tok employees, who were at the time predominantly working in Gbanti Kamaranka and Sanda Loko chiefdoms (see Map 1.2) to conduct participant observation in relation to the organization’s engagement with villages during initial stakeholder meetings and witness the bonfire ceremonies in each of these communities. By observing meetings between Fambul Tok staff and village participants, the bonfire ceremony and informal aspects surrounding the Fambul Tok “intervention,” I was able to observe and understand the implementation process firsthand. I recorded many of the mundane aspects of the program that could not be obtained through staff or participant interviews, or through Fambul Tok’s own media. I also stayed in villages for days at a time before or after meetings, ceremonies or interviews to observe how different sets of power relations played out in practice.

Map 1.2 Bombali Chieftaincy map

Source: Bombali District Council 2014

In mid-2014 after witnessing a number of Fambul Tok meetings and bonfire ceremonies, I conducted semi-structured interviews in five different village areas in Gbanti Kamaranka, Sanda Loko and Biriwa chiefdoms (see Map 1.2), alongside research assistants unaffiliated with the organization. I conducted interviews in three separate groups of communities, which were chosen based on their involvement (or lack thereof) with Fambul Tok. The first group of interviews were conducted in communities in one of two chiefdoms in the district that had not had any encounter with the Fambul Tok program. I chose to conduct these in two larger communities in Biriwa chiefdom, Bumban and Karina sections, in large part due to their geographical proximity to Makeni, where I lived, and the fact that these towns had both had interesting wartime experiences.

The second group of interviews were conducted in communities that had only recently established a relationship with Fambul Tok and where I had observed initial meetings and bonfire ceremonies. I again conducted interviews in two communities: Makulon and Makomray sections in Gbanti Kamaranka chiefdom because these were the sections where Fambul Tok had already chosen to work during this period when I was doing fieldwork. The third group of interviewees were in an area that had an already established relationship with Fambul Tok and had participated in their follow-up community development programs. Benia section, Sanda Loko chiefdom, was selected based on a discussion with Fambul Tok’s district coordinator. I was, however, only able to conduct interviews in one section in the last group due to the constraints presented by the Ebola epidemic (which began in May 2014) (see Appendix A for a community informant interview list). I made a follow-up trip after the epidemic had subsided from December 2015 to January 2016 and conducted follow-up interviews in three of the five communities interviewed previously (where Fambul Tok had been present).

I conducted approximately 125 interviews during my first fieldwork trip (with an additional 52 during my follow-up trip). Before fieldwork, I underwent and was approved by the University of Edinburgh’s ethical review. Prior to interviews, I explained to interviewees that the project was for academic research and individual accounts and opinions would remain anonymous. Interviews were conducted in private, alongside a Sierra Leonean research assistant who was familiar with the local terrain. Due to the sensitive nature of discussing wartime experiences, I allowed people to explain as much or as little as they desired, never probing for further detail, as I did not wish to make people uncomfortable or push them to describe traumatic experiences they did not wish to relive.

I organized the data based on emerging themes, and all interviews were anonymized in accordance with ethical considerations. Together with participant observations, these interviews serve as the main thrust of the book by providing “place-based” insights (Shaw and Waldorf Reference Waldorf, Shaw, Waldorf and Hazan2010), opinions and context from diverse individual perspectives. Simultaneously, these observations and interviews allowed for a “bigger picture” of conflict and post-conflict experiences to emerge. This field research is at the core of this book, ultimately illustrating local processes and programs at work.

Book Outline

This book will demonstrate how transitional justice processes are not only institutional, but also individual. I move away from discussions about “societies,” the normative questions of institutional effectiveness and underlying assumptions that have dominated transitional justice research. I explore individual and communal beliefs and activity as the starting point of analysis to illustrate the diverse ways in which individuals engage with post-conflict programs, but particularly local programs, such as Fambul Tok, often for reasons entirely unrelated to the goals these organizations and institutions outline. Rather, this book suggests that Sierra Leoneans had already moved past their war-related experiences through unique unrecognized processes in order to re-obtain a sense of normalcy in their everyday lives. This book thus examines the actual activity of Sierra Leonean individuals in both recognized and unrecognized transitional justice processes and what this says more broadly about how transitions and justice are activated by individuals in post-conflict societies.

Chapter 2 provides background information on both the conflict and post-conflict eras in Sierra Leone. The first part of the chapter provides an overview of the conflict, focusing in particular on Bombali District. It also incorporates interview narratives to demonstrate the diversity of individual war-related experiences, and highlights the creative ways people managed their everyday challenges during this period. The second part of the chapter will discuss the various recognized post-conflict and transitional justice mechanisms instituted in Sierra Leone, including the Disarmament, Demobilization and Reintegration program,Footnote ⁶ the Special Court for Sierra Leone, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and reparations program. While there is extensive research about Sierra Leonean engagement with these mechanisms, the analysis in this book focuses on the institutional understandings of local ownership and contrasts it with Sierra Leonean perceptions and the (intended and unintended) ways in which they engaged with these mechanisms. This chapter lays the initial groundwork for demonstrating the continuity of agency and appropriation over time in both the conflict and post-conflict periods. The analysis from this chapter aims to provide broader insights into how people navigate their circumstances in conflict and post-conflict societies and the various ways in which recognized transitional justice mechanisms – such as courts and truth commissions – can be interpreted and engaged with in diverse ways and at different points in time.

Chapter 3 begins to explore how Fambul Tok framed their program. It looks at how the organization, and the founder in particular, worked as a “local” translator (Merry Reference Merry2006) to create an organization that represented international understandings of the “local,” namely by highlighting both national identity – Sierra Leonean – and cultural and traditional practices. It will examine the materials produced by the organization, such as their book, documentary and their website, to illustrate the different ways they projected themselves as local and what this says about the reproduction of common “local” tropes by people who know and understand this vernacular (Levitt and Merry Reference Levitt and Merry2009). This will be contrasted with my own fieldwork observations, which explored how the organization actually operated on a daily basis, looking in particular at the interactions and hierarchies both within this “local” organization and between staff and program participants. Exploring the interactions between these social structures and individual agency (of both staff and participants) through the lens of Fambul Tok demonstrates how local transitional justice organizations are not necessarily more in touch with local needs and priorities. Rather, the individuals enacting these programs also create and reinforce internal societal hierarchies, mirroring international–local hierarchies discussed at length in transitional justice and peacebuilding literature (Baker and Obradovic-Wochnik Reference Baker and Obradovic-Wochnik2016; Kappler Reference Kappler2015; Kochanski Reference Kochanski2020; Randazzo Reference Randazzo2016; Robins Reference Robins2013). Thus, knowledge of transitional justice and how the local is constructed within TJ programs is its own form of power. Exploring the ways in which agency is employed by different local practitioners in different contexts of the program enriches how we understand the micro-dynamics of power, knowledge and discourse within the contexts scholars frequently refer to as local.

Chapter 4 shifts the focus from the organization to communities and participants. It analyzes the ways in which Fambul Tok was interpreted and appropriated by individuals in the areas where they worked and how social structures, individual agency and the organization’s staff interact with each other. The program was designed to provide people with ritual spaces to discuss war-related experiences, but my research suggests that the vast majority of participants neither desired nor enjoyed hearing about these experiences, even if it was in a familiar setting. The confessions at these organization-sponsored ceremonies were performances (in large part by prominent community stakeholders) that sought to stimulate further development opportunities. The space did, however, provide an opportunity to address other, more contemporary issues. I exemplify this through the story of two communities who were, at the time of the bonfire ceremony, in the midst of a heated chieftaincy conflict. The organization’s presence and the ceremony provided a forum through which this conflict played out, exemplifying how existing social structures play a critical role in shaping these types of programs. I also look at how preexisting hierarchies, social status and individual agency influenced how different people engaged with the program, demonstrating the diversity of needs and priorities in communities and how people engage with these mechanisms for different reasons. It provides a comprehensive analysis of how local transitional justice programs shape and are shaped by the various actors at play (both staff and participants), which has implications not only for TJ mechanisms, but development programs more broadly.

Chapter 5 moves beyond Fambul Tok and looks at how processes of transition and justice occur outside the official scope and discourse, or through what I refer to as unrecognized mechanisms. I problematize the notion of transition, looking again at the official transitional justice discourses and contrast these with interview narratives that demonstrate the fluidity of “conflict” and “post-conflict” periods. The chapter further examines how unrecognized mechanisms that were employed by Sierra Leoneans served as more meaningful avenues of “transitioning” past their war-related experiences. Individuals engaged in everyday activities, such as economic restoration, agriculture and religion in an effort to transition to what I call a “new normal.” The importance of the everyday and re-obtaining a sense of normality were key priorities. Individuals, therefore, define and enact their own ideas of what it means to transition, engaging with alternative, often more immediate and pragmatic, channels within their existing social structures to reach their own defined goals. Using Sierra Leone as an example, this chapter demonstrates how individuals in post-conflict societies are active agents in defining and facilitating their own post-conflict processes, thereby recognizing the unrecognized and understanding notions of transition and justice “at work.”

Chapter 6 concludes by revisiting the literature on transitional justice to demonstrate the importance of looking at social structures and individual agency to better understand these processes and programs. I will discuss more broadly how recognized mechanisms in Sierra Leone were, in fact, both physically and psychologically distanced from people’s everyday priorities, further begging the question of for whom these institutions were implemented and why. Sierra Leoneans had more immediate needs in the days, weeks and years following the conflict and thus engaging with transitional justice mechanisms is both conceptually and practically privileged. These findings ultimately go beyond simply critiquing transitional justice mechanisms to interrogate its conceptual and institutional foundations. The alternative ways people engaged with and outside of these programs demonstrate how people enacted transitions and justice on their own, often individual, terms, both in relation to the conflict and other, more contemporary issues. Therefore, justice is not something to be done to or for people, as is often how the discourses have been framed – with individuals as passive participants – with phrases like “justice has been served or done” and “victims have received justice.” Rather, justice is something you can mobilize for yourself in order to address individual and communal needs. Justice is, therefore, an act in and of itself. Ultimately this book provides a new lens on post-conflict Sierra Leone, highlights the importance of moving beyond preconceived notions of impact and effectiveness and looks at how local institutions and processes actually work in practice.