“I did not know then that, in fighting terrorism, we South Africans would become terrorists ourselves; that we would end up violating the very things we were fighting for.” This occurred, he [Eugene de Kock, former Vlakplaas Commander] claimed, because “we began to believe we were supermen who could behave ruthlessly in the name of patriotism and state security. The state had made torture legitimate.” — Unsettling Accounts
Once a torturer confesses to his acts, what is resolved? Can his victims forgive him or find relief? Can the families of dead victims gain anything resembling closure or justice? What responsibility or role should the state play in all of this?
Political Science professor Leigh A. Payne tries to answers these questions in her book Unsettling Accounts: Neither Truth Nor Reconciliation in Confessions of State Violence. Through television interviews, newspaper stories, books, and court testimony, Payne thoroughly examines perpetrator confessions of state-sponsored violence in the countries of Argentina, Brazil, Chile, and South Africa. She looks at many of the most well-known cases, such as Alfredo Astiz and Adolfo Scilingo in Argentina, and Osvaldo Romo Mena in Chile, and the different ways each country has attempted to deal with (or ignore) its violent past.
A popular assumption is that once a torturer confesses, that will be enough to satisfy or even to forgive; once a confession is made, the power that the torturer once had over the victim will then be transferred from the torturer to the victim and their family. What Payne finds in this fact-rich, academically-centered, book is far more complex, illuminating, and troubling.
Even defining the truth about who did what to whom is complicated by justifications, denials, claims of amnesia, the lack of documentation, legal obstacles, and competing agendas. The very manner in which the confessions are elicited and staged frames the way they are perceived.
In the case of Osvaldo Romo Mena, he was interviewed on Univsion’s Primer Impacto, a tabloid-style TV news program. As a former civilian member of Chile’s secret military-police unit DINA, under General Pinochet, he was not protected by Chile’s amnesty laws. Romo’s TV interview was particularly chilling, since he looked sweaty, even beastly, and seemed to relish the details of his many methods of torture. He was also wholly unrepentant: “I know I would do what I did all over again…Yes, I’d do it much bigger now”.
There were a wide range of reactions to Romo’s interview. Some were not convinced that Romo’s confession was helpful to former victims. The Latin American Institute of Mental Health and Human Rights criticized Nancy Guzman, the journalist who had arranged the TV interview, saying she had encouraged Romo to be lurid and sadistic, which in turn did further violence to his former victims. One of Romo’s former victims stated that it had taken her years to heal herself, but seeing him again threatened to undo the healing.
Of all the methods democratic states use to deal with violence committed under former repressive regimes (silence, amnesty, prosecution), Payne clearly favors the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), employed by post-Apartheid South Africa. Former perpetrators of state-sponsored violence could apply for amnesty in exchange for their testimony. There are many strengths to this approach. Though it is the most open, it is not immune to manipulation.
At face value, Eugene de Kock’s testimony in front of the TRC would seem to be all that would be needed. The former Commander of the notorious Vlakplaas security unit in Apartheid-Era South Africa made detailed confessions of his murders and tactics, implicated many former colleagues, and claimed remorse for his actions. Because of his testimony, many other state-backed torturers were also tried and convicted. Some former victims even praised De Kock for his apparent honesty.
But not all of de Kock’s former foes were forgiving, and a prison guard contradicted de Kock’s public demeanor, saying that in private, de Kock was far from the gentle and kind man he presented to the TRC and everyone else. His biographer Jacques Pauw said of him, “He knows he’s supposed to say ‘I’m sorry,’ but there is a difference between that and realizing that what he did was wrong.” As a result, no consensus regarding de Kock emerged “except that he advanced public knowledge of the violent past.”
Sometimes it seems, the best people can hope for is to advance public knowledge of a former regime’s crimes. The truth can be good to know, but it does not always heal.