Oped»
Young guns
JUN 26 -
Numerous countries have endured decades of armed conflict, and many continue to live under the permanent, less acknowledged menace of political violence. Nepal also has had its share of conflict related violence. To everyone’s relief, the leaders signed peace accords and tangible levels of direct violence have receded or at least appeared to decline after 10 years of armed conflict. The peace accords raised hopes that contentious issues regarding nationality, ethnicity, equality, region and community, among many others, would be amicably resolved, and that the nation would move forward towards progressive social transformation. However, personal traumas of the common people who were directly or indirectly affected by the armed conflict never got public attention.
The state neglected to address cases of missing family members, plight of PLA members, concerns of war widows and issues concerning relocation and integration of displaced children and orphans. Even though the visible scars of the war including the bullet and knife wounds received by many, must have healed by now, the psychological damage caused by the horrors of the war still remains to be documented and analysed.
The recent headline news of an ex-PLA girl child’s experience at the UN Security Council meeting drew my attention. To my knowledge, this was the first time any ex-child combatant has come forward to relate a personal experience (“UN hears story of ex-PLA girl,” June 18, Page 1). Manju, daughter of a poor rickshaw puller, related how the Maoists came to her village in central Nepal in September 2005 and demanded that each family send one member to join a seven-day cultural programme that the rebels were conducting. Not only was the 13-year-old Manju forced to attend the weeklong programme, that one week stretched into two years. She could not return home to her parents. Instead, living with the Maoists, she “dug roads, survived 14-hour-long jungle walks, learned to fire an AK-47 and became a commander”.
After suffering from some health problems, however, she was demoted to cook. Without any proper medical attention, she was accused of faking illness to avoid work. Dispelling the romantic imagination concerning the lives of the rebels, she said “how sad and painful” her life was with the Maoists. Furthermore, unlike the happy ending of the armed conflict, her story did not have a happy ending. In contrast to the hero’s welcome that greeted her Maoist leaders, she could not return home because the villagers treated her poorly and bullied her.
This is only one story of one Manju. Maybe there are many more unsaid and unheard personal traumas of child combatants who are still carrying the psychological scars and struggling to adjust to their local environment. Manju’s simple narration reflects the pain of displacement. Her separation from her family, her involuntary act of joining the militia, and her firsthand experiences of deception, coercion and violence formed the personal trauma of a child who was without any option and state protection. The violence eroded her familial and social relations. Manju, who is now 18 years old, still suffers from physical and mental alienation. Robbed of her childhood, even the glorious peace agreement could not reinstate happiness in her life.
The term “child combatant” is broadly defined as a person who is less than 18 years of age and is attached to the armed forces or an armed group, whether or not there is an armed conflict situation. The age limitation of this definition is based upon the 1989 convention on the Rights of the Child—the most widely ratified convention in existence—which defines a “child” as any one under the age of 18. However, this definition of a child is disputable in a few Nepali communities where 16, though constitutionally illegal, is still considered a marriageable age. Adult coercion is often the visible or invisible force that decides for the children, and forces them into child marriage or being child combatants. Generally, the idea of a child combatant seems an unnatural conflation of two contradictory and incompatible terms. First, “child” typically refers to a young person between infancy and youth, and connotes immaturity, simplicity and an absence of full physical, mental and emotional development. Second, the word “combatant” generally refers to men and women who are physically strong and trained warriors.
Sadly, in Uganda, Liberia, the Palestinian intifada and Afghanistan—and Nepal—children have often been used as catalysts of violence. Humanitarian narratives assert that children are recruited and conscripted as child combatants because they hardly retaliate and can be easily manipulated. UNHCR research shows that children need not necessarily be combatants to be perceived as attached to the armed forces or armed groups. They perform a variety of other tasks, both military and non-military. They include scouting, spying, training, drilling and other preparations as well as acting as decoys, couriers, guards and porters.
There may be many unexplained reasons for children to join armed conflict including poverty and adult coercion. Sometimes, joining the armed forces remains the only way for the children to save their lives. In many cases, had they remained civilians, they would have been murdered sooner. While some children volunteer, many others like Manju are forced to serve against their will. In addition, the dividing lines of compulsory, voluntary and forced recruitment are often blurred. However one may look at the issue, the fact remains that use of children in conflicts is an act of terror and horror indeed!
Humanitarian organisations throughout the world argue that children should not carry arms, and that those recruiting children into the armed forces should be prosecuted for war crimes. From this perspective, use of children in any armed conflict is condemnable and inhuman. In the context of Nepal, it is important to analyse the following set of questions: Weren’t the large number of child PLA members recruited as combatants because, being minors, they could be easily manipulated by unscrupulous adults? Was it absolutely necessary for the Maoists to recruit children in order to expand their combatant force? How many Manjus were forcefully separated from their families and recruited into the PLA? Could Manju have said, “No! I will not go!”? Would she have received protection from the state had she replied in such a manner? Were children not doubly victimised by the Army and the Maoists?
Manju’s personal experiences describe both the trauma that she experienced as a child PLA member and the mental torture that she experienced when she tried to reintegrate into the society from which she was separated. Sadly, many of our leaders—many of whom still believe that the end justifies the means—might find such questions uninteresting, especially in comparison to the questions related to the larger issues concerning nation building and writing the constitution. For child combatants like Manju, however, the main question is still this: Will they get a fair chance to review their lives in a changed social context where they can also see themselves moving ahead with a healed heart and better options?
(Thapa is an independent research scholar)
archanathapaoo@hotmail.com
Posted on: 2010-06-27 08:59
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