Michael Fleming
Genocide, Massacre and Terror1
On Holocaust Memorial Day (27 January) we commemorate the victims of the Holocaust. It
is 71 years since the Soviet Army liberated the camp at Auschwitz-Birkenau, where around 1
million Jews were systematically murdered. Most of these people were never even registered
at the camp by German officials and were taken straight to the gas chambers at Birkenau. In
total, during the Second World War around 6 million Jews perished due to the German policy
of annihilation. But until November 1944, the word ‘genocide’ did not exist, even if the
phenomenon did.
We begin with a brief overview of how the concept of ‘genocide’ was incorporated into legal,
political and social discourse. And our starting point is a city – Lviv in western Ukraine. Two
men who would have an important influence on international law were educated at the law
faculty at the University in Lviv/Lwów/Lemberg during the early decades of the twentieth
century - Hersz Lauterpacht and Raphael Lemkin. 2 In November 1944, in a book entitled
‘Axis rule in occupied Europe’3, Lemkin introduced the word genocide, defining it as a crime
aimed at destroying national, religious or racial groups. The key word here is group. He
argued that:
Generally speaking, genocide does not necessarily mean the immediate destruction of
a nation, except when accomplished by mass killings of all members of a nation. It is
intended rather to signify a coordinated plan of different actions aiming at the
destruction of essential foundations of the life of national groups, with the aim of
annihilating the groups themselves. The objectives of such a plan would be the
disintegration of the political and social institutions, of culture, language, national
feelings, religion, and the economic existence of national groups, and the destruction
of the personal security, liberty, health, dignity, and even the lives of the individuals
belonging to such groups.
Hersz Lauterpacht played a key role in conceiving the legal concept of ‘crimes against
humanity’. These two concepts – ‘genocide’ and ‘crimes against humanity’ were, in 1945,
novel. At the Nuremberg trials both concepts entered into the lexicon of international law, but
1
the concept of ‘genocide’ was not key to the prosecution. It was incorporated under Count
Three (War Crimes) of the indictment against Nazi officials whereas ‘crimes against
humanity’ constituted Count Four of the indictment.4 Significantly, ‘crimes against
humanity’, as the lawyer Philippe Sands has noted, ‘did not require proof of atrocity being
committed against a particular group’.5
Lemkin’s concern with the persecution of (and crimes committed against) groups as distinct
from individuals, arguably developed during his time working within the structures of the
League of Nations prior to the Second World War. When war broke out he was in Warsaw
and managed to flee to Stockholm. There he began collecting Nazi decrees. From Stockholm,
he travelled to the United States – the long way round, via the Soviet Union, as the western
route was blocked due to British concerns about refugees. Arriving in the US in April 1941,
he secured a post at Duke University and later at the War Department. During his time in the
United States Lemkin analysed the documents that he had carted half-way around the world,
producing the book on ‘Axis rule’. In July 1945, Lemkin was part of the American delegation
in London helping to set up the International Military Tribunal that would try German war
criminals. He continuously advocated for the incorporation of the notion of genocide within
the indictment.
Hersz Lauterpacht was also in London, advising the British delegation. His biography was
somewhat different to Lemkin’s. After studying in Lwów, Lauterpacht took doctoral degrees
in Law and in Political Science in Vienna. In 1923 Lauterpacht arrived in Britain and took up
research and teaching at the LSE, and was called to the Bar in 1935. In 1937 he assumed the
Whewell Chair of International Law at Cambridge. During the war he was an adviser to the
Foreign Office and he was later part of the British War Crimes Executive. In 1946 he was
part of the British group at the Nuremberg Trials.
Lauterpacht’s focus on crimes against individuals rather than groups – was something the
British were arguably more comfortable with, conforming as it did to the tenets of British
liberalism. It also did not give much encouragement to critical assessment of British colonial
conduct. Nevertheless, on 27 July 1946, the chief British prosecutor at Nuremburg, Hartley
Shawcross, in his closing arguments, referred to the crime of genocide.
2
The concept of genocide was promulgated in the American press. On 26 August 1946, an
editorial in The New York Times explained to readers that by charging defendants at
Nuremberg with the crime of genocide ‘a justification of their motives and deeds on national
or other grounds is impossible’.6 Two years later, on 8 December 1948, the United Nations
Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide was adopted.
Coming into force in January 1951, Article 2 of the convention defines genocide as:
[G]enocide means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in
whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such:
(a) Killing members of the group;
(b) Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;
(c) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its
physical destruction in whole or in part;
(d) Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group;
(e) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.
It was not long before the convention was called on, but, in the context of the early Cold War,
reference to the convention proved problematic. In 1951, the Civil Rights Congress delivered
a petition to the United Nations charging the United States with genocide. The petition,
largely written by William L. Patterson, a lawyer and a member of the American communist
party, highlighted the violence, including lynchings, that black people in the US faced
between 1945 and 1951. Patterson argued that the ‘consistent, conscious, unified policies of
every branch of government’ to oppress black people constituted genocide.7
In response to this, The New York Times approached Lemkin for his views. Perhaps
surprisingly, Lemkin not only rejected the allegation made by the Civil Rights Congress, but
actually sought to exclude the petitioners from public discourse. Lemkin argued that the
accusation of genocide was an attempt to ‘divert attention from the crimes of genocide
committed against Estonians, Latvians, Lithuanians, Poles and other Soviet-subjugated
peoples’.8 And William Patterson and Paul Robeson, two key figures in the Civil Rights
Congress, Lemkin contended, were ‘un-American’ and in the service of a foreign power. This
was inflammatory language during the ‘Red Scare’ of McCarthyism.
3
Lemkin was well aware of the political utility of the concept of genocide. In a 1951 letter to
the Governor of Ohio he highlighted that the concept of genocide ‘carries the highest moral
condemnation in our cold war against the Soviet Union.’9 What this episode and subsequent
appeals to the Convention highlight is the way in which the application of the Genocide
Convention was limited by the Cold War context.
For example, in 1966 the British philosopher Bertrand Russell along with several other
notable intellectuals created the International War Crimes Tribunal, better known as the
Russell Tribunal. A key aim of the Tribunal was to document American conduct in Vietnam.
In September 1966 Russell cited US Supreme Justice Robert Jackson – the Chief prosecutor
at Nuremberg. Jackson had argued that:
If certain acts and violations of treaties are crimes, they are crimes whether the United
States does them or whether Germany does them. We are not prepared to lay down a
rule of criminal conduct against others which we would not be willing to have
invoked against us.10
Later that month, in a letter to The Times, Russell made reference to Jewish resistance during
the Holocaust:
The War Crimes Tribunal is concerned with the war of aggression in Vietnam and the
unique weaponry employed by the United States as it seeks to destroy a national
revolution. We do not regard the violence of the resistance as a crime, because we are
able to distinguish the victim from the aggressor, as easily as we could distinguish the
Jews of the Warsaw Ghetto from the Gestapo. Even a pacifist, abhorring all violence,
would be morally obliged to recognize that much. 11
Following investigations, the Tribunal concluded that the US government was guilty of
genocide. In 1968, in a potent analysis of US actions in Vietnam, Jean-Paul Sartre, the
President of the War Crimes Tribunal, argued that:
In fact, genocide appears as the only possible reaction to the rebellion of a whole
people against its oppressors. The American government is guilty of having preferred,
4
of still preferring a policy of aggression and of war, aiming at total genocide, to a
policy of peace, the only real alternative - because the latter would necessarily imply a
reconsideration of the main objectives imposed on it by the big imperialist companies
through their pressure groups.12
The War Crimes Tribunal did not have any legal powers. And, it is worth noting, the US only
ratified the UN Genocide Convention in 1988. But the Tribunal did highlight US policy and
action in Vietnam and arguably helped support resistance within the US to the war in
Vietnam.
The successful first prosecution did not occur until 1998 when the International Tribunal for
Rwanda found a former mayor guilty of several counts of genocide. Nine years later Serbia
became the first state to be found in breach of the convention by failing to prevent the 1995
Srebrenica massacre. So while genocide – the thing itself – is probably as old as humanity,
the word is relatively new. And as the history of the last seventy years attests, both
successfully defining practices as genocidal (as in a court of law) and defining events as
genocide are contingent – that is to say, power relations not only inhibit the prosecution of
perpetrators of genocide, but even inhibit naming their crime. Today, for instance, there
remains equivocation in some quarters about naming the Turkish annihilation of the
Armenians that began in 1915 – genocide. The same is true of the 1932-1933 man-made
famine in Ukraine. In 1953, Raphael Lemkin described the famine in Ukraine as genocide.13
Though many countries, including the United States, would now agree with this assertion,
many would not, including Russia.14
Massacre
Although massacres may take place within a particular genocide, massacres themselves are
not, in general, genocide. While the word genocide is a recent innovation, massacre is not. Its
use, in the contemporary sense, is used in a 1556 pamphlet to describe the killing of the
Waldensians – a Christian group – in 1545.15
5
Massacres themselves occur throughout human history, but the ways in which massacres
have been comprehended and represented have changed over time. For instance, Burucúa and
Kwiatkowski have argued that three different conceptualisations of massacres can be
identified: first, during the classical period, the image of the hunt dominated; in the medieval
period the idea of martyrdom became increasingly prevalent, reflecting, in part, concerns
about contemporary events – most notably the confrontation with the Islamic world at
Constantinople. Later, in the sixteenth century, the metaphor of hell emerges. All three
metaphors have been used since to represent massacres. Burucúa and Kwiatkowski suggest
that with the advent of the massacres of the twentieth century a new form of representation
developed as the established mechanisms of representation were insufficient. Here shadows,
spectres and silhouettes highlight the ongoing trauma of the massacres and impart a sense of
mourning. At the same time these visual metaphors insinuate an unsettling normality to death
– the work of Auschwitz and Buchenwald survivor Józef Szajna is a case in point.
During the Holocaust, the ‘hunt’ was realised in the relentless searches for Jews in hiding
both by Germans and by non-Jewish collaborators. Sonderkommando Dirlewanger – a SS
group led by the sadist Oskar Dirlewanger is infamous. It ‘hunted’ Jews and partisans. In
August 1944, this group was responsible for countless rapes and massacres in Warsaw.16
Defining massacre is problematic. There is consensus that a massacre is a one-sided event –
the victims have limited or more often no possibility of defending themselves against
perpetrators. There is discussion as to whether a mass killing event carried out by a single
individual constitutes a massacre – popular and mass-media understandings suggest so, but
massacre can be defined as a mass-killing carried out by a group over a period of limited
duration in a defined geographic space.
During the twentieth century there have been a great number of massacres, often during wartime and frequently with the authority of the state. We can reflect on the massacre of Polish
officers by the Soviets at Katyń during 1940 and the countless massacres of Jews by the
Germans throughout the Second World War. At Babi Yar, outside Kiev, 33,771 Jews were
massacred in just two days by the Germans in late September 1941. Ultimately around
100,000 people, including Soviet prisoners of war, Gypsies and communists were killed at
this site. At Oradour-sur-Glane the Germans massacred French villagers in June 1944. Less
6
than a year later, French gendarmes and the French Army began a ‘pacification’ operation in
Setif in Algeria. Several thousand Muslims were killed.
Members of States’ armed forces have carried out massacres without explicit orders. In
Vietnam, the My Lai massacre of 16 March 1968 was committed by the US Army, and over
400 civilians in South Vietnam were killed. Within the United Kingdom fourteen civilians
were killed in the Bogside massacre – also known as Bloody Sunday – on 30 January 1972.
The Saville enquiry reported in 2010 that the killings were “unjustified and unjustifiable” and
Prime Minister David Cameron issued an apology.17
Each massacre demands close investigation. The event itself is often subject to contestation
and a clear understanding of what actually happened has to be established. For instance, the
Saville enquiry took twelve years to publish its final report. Elsewhere, there has been an
extremely animated debate about the massacre of Jews in Jedwabne on 10 July 1941 – a
massacre committed by the Jews’ Polish neighbours.18 And in many South American
countries the massacres committed by military dictatorships during the 1970s continue to be
difficult history.
Although the causes of (as in explanations for) specific massacres may be very different, the
state often plays an active or facilitating role. The Germans’ multiple massacres of Jews were
part of the German state’s extermination policy. But states also play a key role in sustaining
and/or failing to combat social antipathy towards various groups. In the first instance, social
antipathy towards others can be useful in establishing legitimacy – for example, by offering
out-groups as legitimate targets for social anger. Indicatively, the socialist patriotism of the
Polish Workers Party (communists) of the early post-war period privileged a national core
population and accentuated antipathy towards various national minorities.19 In the second
instance, the failure to effectively deal with antipathy to various groups often has the same
effect – the direction of social anger is essentially outsourced to the wider society, or to
bodies within it. The ethno-religious policy of the Roman Catholic Church in Poland during
the same post-war period helped to sustain hostility towards Jews, for example.20 In short,
tolerance of intolerance by the state can play an important role in increasing the possibility of
massacres. As the Polish philosopher Leszek Kołakowski noted in 1956:
7
A necessary condition for bloody Jewish pogroms, slaughters and atrocities has
always been a social atmosphere of emotional tolerance of anti-Semitism, even in its
mildest watered-down form. Wherever atrocities occurred, the system of
discrimination and suspicion, even if apparently harmless, always gathered reserves of
destructive social energy beforehand which nourished and bred criminals.21
Kołakowski here highlights that the violence of the pogrom – that is, a massacre, is
predicated on a prior violence – representational violence.22 The massacre, therefore, is part
of a continuum of violence. It arises out of prior violences – antisemitism, xenophobia,
religious intolerance and so on. And like other forms of violence, massacre can contribute to
Terror.
Terror
Is the notion of ‘terror’ coherent? Is it useful and if so, useful for whom? We can distinguish
three broad ways of conceptualising Terror. First, there is the Terror associated with those
who challenge the state’s monopoly on violence. This would include organisations such as Al
Qaeda and for most observers, ETA and the IRA. Through acts of extreme violence –
bombings, mass-shootings – which take place within a concentrated period of time, terrorists
aim to spread collective fear. We can reflect on the outrages that took place in November in
Paris, for instance. Second, there is the Terror associated with specific state-controlling
regimes. This would include Nazism, Stalinism in the USSR, the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia.
We can also consider Terror in Revolutionary France. Thirdly, there is the everyday ‘Terror’
concomitant to the normal function of capitalist social relations in liberal democratic polities.
‘Terrorists’ in the first sense are often portrayed as psychologically unhinged, and the causes
which they espouse are frequently deemed either irrelevant or illegitimate. In Britain, we can
think of how the Irish Republican Army was represented during the 1970s and 1980s, and the
failure of IRA prisoners to achieve political recognition despite hunger strikes. The violence
of such ‘terrorists’ is frequently portrayed as without foundation, irrational and perpetrated by
madmen, but the practice of limiting discussion of the motives of ‘terrorists’ to a
psychological register itself needs to be subject to critical analysis. This is not to justify the
8
specific actions of ‘terrorists’, merely to highlight that shutting down discussion of the nature
and causes of ‘terror’ can be seen as a form of violence excluding some voices from debate.
Beyond those currently labelled by state agencies as ‘terrorists’, much scholarly and popular
commentary on Terror refers to the French Revolution, to Nazism and to Stalinism. The idea
of totalitarianism is often evoked to highlight the totality of the Terror which renders society
mute. Extreme state-sanctioned violence is often used to coerce and discipline society.
Terror, in this reading, includes practices which paralyse individuals and groups, often
through various forms of violence – including unjustifiable incarceration, deportation,
executions and so on. Terror is therefore held up as the antithesis of the liberal democratic
polity. For the French philosopher Montesquieu, as Corey Robin has argued, ‘terror could
serve as the negative foundation of liberal government’.23 A problem is that while the
economy of terror concomitant to political projects seeking total domination over society is
highlighted, it is often misrepresented. Furthermore, the economy of fear (or terror) of liberal
democratic polities is overlooked.
Even within ‘Terrorist’ regimes, people are not reduced to unthinking, isolated automatons.
The rational human being survives, making choices in circumstances not of their making.
History does not stop: resistance, complicity and other responses emerge. For example, in
October 1973, General Sergio Arellano Stark, on orders from General Augusto Pinochet, led
a military mission from southern to northern Chile. This mission earned the name ‘The
Caravan of Death’. Stopping off at various military bases, the mission engaged in torture and
murdered at least 75 political prisoners. The Terror policy of the Pinochet regime was clearly
identified by Oleguer Benaventes Bustos who, in 1973, was second in command at the Talca
Regiment. He contended that:
One of the reasons for the mission was…to terrorize the presumed willingness of the
Chilean people to fight back. But without a doubt, it was also intended to instil fear
and terror among the commanders. To prevent any military personnel, down to lowest
ranking officers, from taking a false step: This could happen to you!24
Through Terror, a demand for collaboration, was made. And the issuance of the demand is
predicated on the recognition that, without complicity, both the economy of terror and the
9
political regime fail to achieve their goals. It is increasingly clear that the idea that Terror is a
simple top-down affair reducing populations to silence and stillness or that it refers only to
the actions of extremists, is historically inaccurate and misleading. In addition, totalitarian
‘Terror’ as the theoretical negative foundation for liberal democracy is problematic – the
fragmentation of civil, political and economic institutions, a pluralism often justified by
reference to its perceived opposite, as Corey Robin highlights, can promote fear. It is to the
everyday ‘terror’ of liberal democracy that we now turn.
Fear in liberal polities
If fear (terror) is understood as a contingent combination of violences seeking to effect social
discipline and/or social change, then within our society it operates through multiple actors
and in various different ways. It links the structural violence of the market to the intentional
violence of individuals and representational violence of stereotypes as well as the prejudicial
notions inhering within language itself. The impact of these different forms of violence is not
negligible. As long ago as 1844, Friedrich Engels described society’s practice of putting
‘hundreds of proletarians in such a position that they inevitably meet a too early and an
unnatural death as social murder’.25 Today, the poorest 10 per cent in British society are
twice as likely to die below 65 as the richest 10%.26
The dictatorship of the employer, for example, sustains fear in many workplaces, resulting in
workers undertaking unpaid overtime. Last year, British employees performed £32 billion
worth of unpaid work for their employers, according to the TUC.27 Indeed, this statistic
highlights a point made by Jean-Paul Sartre in 1952 that, ‘the original violence is not
oppression ... it is inward oppression, a restraint exercised by one half of [the worker] over
the other’.28 Here we see that complicity with, rather than contestation of, an exploitative
system is only comprehensible if the structure of fear is recognised. But we also see that there
is a choice, albeit a difficult one.
As Sartre was to explain in 1960:
This is the dual practical character of the individual action of capitalists: the
production of free workers in the form of human commodities in rigid, reciprocal
10
conditioning, with a systemic preference for machine over human labour, wherever
the latter can be replaced by the former. Now, this dual character of the operation as
living praxis is precisely what defines oppression: the power given to worked matter
of (double) compulsion over free individuals in so far as they have been recognized
(the free contract) in their freedom remains fundamentally unchanged, whether this
worked matter is a machine (or money to buy one) or a gun. And this oppression can
be realized only in the form of permanent violence, that is to say, in so far as it is
practised against an anti-human species whose freedom is essentially the freedom to
do evil.29
Thus, the option open to the worker is to challenge the inherent structures of violence, but to
do so may require a counter-violence, (that is, to do evil). But challenges to the structure of
violence are often met by a liberal democratic state with overt physical violence – for
example, police brutality. On 18 June 1984, the National Union of Mineworkers blockaded
the Orgreave coking plant. Over the course of the day a number of picketers were beaten and
arrested. Statements were later fabricated and a number of miners where maliciously
prosecuted – arguably as a way to deter others from contesting the destruction of their
livelihoods. Such tactics are certainly not limited to dictatorships.
In addition, challenges to the structure of violence are discouraged by legal and
administrative means. For example, clause 6 in the 1980 Social Security Act had the specific
purpose of undermining the families of strikers by deducting any benefits these dependents
were entitled to. Single strikers were never eligible for benefit payments.30 We can also think
of the anti-union legislation in many jurisdictions.
Class is only one axis along which fear is unevenly distributed in liberal democratic society.
Gender is another. The failure to effectively confront patriarchal structures, the persistence of
gendered divisions of labour, gendered pay differentials, body and ‘slut’-shaming, the 1
million incidences of domestic abuse, 300,000 sexual assaults and 60,000 rapes committed in
Britain annually, sustains fear.31 Little wonder then that many people self-regulate their use
of space, especially at night.32 In addition, the intersection of class, race and gender
oppression compounds and accentuates fear amongst particular communities.
11
The state is not a benign influence. The rhetoric of strivers and skivers is used to assault the
system of social security resulting in some serious misconceptions. Benefit fraud, running at
0.7% is considered by representative samples of the British public to be much higher.
Unemployment benefit comprises around just 4% of the welfare bill, but again the British are
encouraged to believe it is a lot higher.33 The malign discursive context together with the
withdrawal of social support (benefits) has had tragic, but predictable consequences:
including self-harm and suicide.34 In addition, over the last decade or so, middle-class disdain
for the working class has been expressed through ‘Chav’ discourse. But the justification of
middle class privilege within this discourse is not gender neutral.35 The representational
violence of ‘chav’ discourse cuts across various identities – class, race and gender. As
Imogen Tyler has noted:
‘...the disgust for and fascinated obsessions with the Chav mum’s ‘easy fertility’ is
bound up with a set of social angst about infertility amongst middle-class women, a
group continually chastised for ‘putting career over motherhood’ and ‘leaving it too
late’ to have children. The figure of the Chav mum not only mocks poor white
teenage mothers but also challenges middle-class women to face their ‘reproductive
responsibilities’. 36
The violence of elitism serves to entrench self-serving narratives of deserving and
undeserving, or, to rephrase Niall Ferguson’s dismissive formulation, ‘the best and the rest’.37
Within our contemporary liberal democracy fear, as we have seen, plays a key role in
regulating the economy (fear of unemployment, underemployment), communities (stop and
search, prejudicial stereotypes) and gender norms (sexism, ideas of appropriate behaviour).
Concluding remarks
Genocides, the destruction of a national, ethnic, racial or religious group through a variety of
means, often include massacre and terror. Massacres may not be genocidal, but may
contribute to genocide. They can also play a role in stimulating and sustaining Terror. Terror
comprises a range of violences. Often ‘Terror’ seeks to subdue and/or coerce individuals and
groups to complicity with their own objectification. But the history of the concept of Terror
12
and the traction that this notion has as the negative foundation of liberalism and, for some, as
an agent of renewal for liberalism, have worked to disguise the immanent terror within liberal
democratic polity itself.
We would be well advised to be cautious in using ‘Terror’ as an analytical category. It is
probably better to speak of fear and to analyse how fear reconfigures society at particular
moments, how individuals seek to maintain agency within these contexts. In doing so, we
may avoid fetishising particular regimes/periods. We can also consider the particularities of
specific terrorist acts (for instance, the recent attacks in Paris) without reducing ‘Terror’ to
non-state agents who use extreme violence. In addition we need to bear in mind the
everydayness of fear and be cognisant of the microhistories of responses – of collusion and
resistance. Recognising how fear stalks our own liberal democratic polity – in the work place,
in the home and on the street may help us develop more sensitive understandings of Fear
itself.
1
This paper should not be published or distributed without the expressed permission of the author.
2
Philippe Sands (2011) ‘A Memory of Justice: The Unexpected Place of Lviv in International Law - A Personal
History’ Case Western Reserve Journal of International Law, 43:3, pp.739-758.
3
Raphael Lemkin (1944) ‘Axis rule in occupied Europe’ (Washington D.C., Carnegie Endowment for Peace) p.
79.
4
Also see Article 6 of the Charter of the International Military Tribunal, 8 August 1945. Available at
http://avalon.law.yale.edu/imt/imtconst.asp#art6
5
Sands, ‘A Memory of Justice’ p.750.
6
‘Genocide’ in The New York Times 26 August 1946, p. 22.
7
Patterson, William (ed.) (1951) We Charge Genocide: The Historic Petition to the United Nations for Relief
From a Crime of The United States Government Against the Negro People (New York: Civil Rights Congress,
1951), p. xi.
8
The New York Times ‘US accused in UN of Negro Genocide’ 18 December 1951, p 13. Also see John Docker
‘Raphael Lemkin, creator of the concept of genocide: a world history perspective’ in Ned Curthoys (ed)
Humanities Research Vol XVI. No. 2. 2010.
9
Lemkin to Frank Lausche, Governor of Ohio, June 1951, AJA, Lemkin Papers, Ms 60/Box 2/6, cited in Anton
Weiss-Wendt, ‘Hostage of Politics: Raphael Lemkin on “Soviet Genocide”’ in Journal of Genocide Research
(2005), 7(4), December, 551–559.
13
10
Bertrand Russell and Ray Perkins (ed,) (2002) Yours Faithfully, Bertrand Russell: A Lifelong Fight for Peace,
Justice, and Truth in Letters to the Editor (Chicago Open Court Publishing), p.392. (Russell’s 16 September
1966 letter published in The New York Times 6 October 1966, p.46).
11
Russell, Yours Faithfully p.391 (The Times 30 September 1966 p.11).
12
Jean-Paul Sartre ‘Genocide’ in New Left Review I/48, March-April 1968 p.24.
13
Lemkin also describes the Great Famine in Ireland as genocide. See The New York Times ‘Ukrainians march
in protest parade’ 21 September 1953, p. 10.
14
See Ukraine Famine http://www.unitedhumanrights.org/genocide/ukraine_famine.htm (last accessed
12/11/2015).
15
José Emilio Burucúa and Nicolás Kwiatkowski (2014) ‘The absent double: Representations of the
Disappeared’ in New Left Review (87) pp.97-117.
16
See Paolo Giaccaria and Claudio Minca ‘Nazi biopolitics and the dark geographies of the selva’ Journal of
Genocide Research (2011), 13(1–2), March–June 2011, 67–84.
17
BBC
(15
June
2010)
‘Bloody
Sunday
killings
'unjustified
and
unjustifiable',
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/10320609 .
18
Marci Shore (2005) ‘Conversing with Ghosts: Jedwabne, Żydokomuna, and Totalitarianism’ in Kritika:
Explorations in Russian and Eurasian History, Volume 6, Number 2, pp. 345-374.
19
Socialist patriotism operated similarly elsewhere in East-Central Europe – ‘nationalising nationalism’ defined
the nation in ethno-cultural terms’. See Rogers Brubaker, (1996) Nationalism Reframed: Nationhood and the
National Question in the New Europe. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Also see Martin Mevius,
(2005) Agents of Moscow: The Hungarian Communist Party and the Origins of Socialist Patriotism, 1941–
1953. Oxford: Clarendon Press
20
For a discussion of social anger see Michael Fleming (2010) ‘The ethno-religious ambitions of the Roman
Catholic Church and the ascendency of communism in post-war Poland (1945-1950)’ in Nations and
Nationalism Vol. 15, (4) pp. 637-656.
21
Cited in Israel Gutman in Więź (2001) p.16.
22
Representational violence denotes the violence that inheres within language and within particular notions of
common-sense, including pervasive stereotypes, restrictive ideas of gender roles, homophobia and racism. To
this extent it is congruent with the notion of symbolic violence as used by Pierre Bourdieu. But unlike
Bourdieu’s symbolic violence, it also includes propaganda aimed at others. See Pierre Bourdieu and Lois
Wacquant. (2004) Symbolic violence. In Violence in war and peace, ed. Philippe Bourgois and Nancy ScheperHughes, 272–74. Oxford, UK: Wiley-Blackwell.
23
Corey Robin (2004) Fear: The history of a political idea (Oxford, Oxford University Press) p.54.
24
Cited Sonia Cardenas (.2010) ‘A Regional Survey’ pp. 21-51 in Sonia Cardenas (ed.) Human Rights in Latin
America: A Politics of Terror and Hope. (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press), p.30.
25
26
27
Friedrich Engels (1845/ 1993) The Condition of the Working Class in England p.107.
Danny Dorling. (2013) Unequal Health The scandal of our times, Bristol: Policy Press.
https://www.tuc.org.uk/economic-issues/labour-market/fair-pay-fortnight-2015/workplace-issues/workers-
contribute-%C2%A332bn-uk (last accessed 12/11/2015)
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28
29
Jean-Paul Sartre (1969) The Communists and Peace (London: Hamish Hamilton), p. 47.
Jean-Paul Sartre (2004) Critique of Dialectical Reason, (Volume 1) trans. Alan Sheridan-Smith
(London:Verso) p.747.
30
See, for example, Mary Patricia McIntyre (1992) The response to the 1984-85 miners' strike in Durham
County: Women, the Labour Party and community., Durham theses, Durham University. Available at Durham
E-Theses Online: http://etheses.dur.ac.uk/3462/
31
Theresa May (2012) ‘Ministerial foreword by the Home Secretary’ in Call to End Violence against Women
and Girls: Taking Action – the next chapter, (London, HMSO).
32
See http://www.reclaimthenight.co.uk/ (last accessed 12/11/2015).
33
Full Fact (2015) ‘The Welfare Budget’ https://fullfact.org/economy/welfare_budget_public_spending-29886;
TUC (2013) ‘Support for benefit cuts dependent on ignorance’. Available at https://www.tuc.org.uk/socialissues/child-poverty/welfare-and-benefits/tax-credits/support-benefit-cuts-dependent (last accessed 12/11/2015)
34
Francis Ryan ‘How many benefits claimants have to kill themselves before something is done?’ The
Guardian 10 February 2015. Available at: http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/feb/10/benefitssanctions-malcolm-burge-suicides. Also see David Gunnell et al. (2015) ‘Global Financial Crisis: effects on
mental health and suicide’, (Bristol, University of Bristol). Available at http://www.bris.ac.uk/medialibrary/sites/policybristol/documents/PolicyReport-3-Suicide-recession.pdf (last accessed 12/11/2015).
35
Owen Jones (2012) Chavs: The Demonization of the Working Class (London: Verso).
36
Imogen Tyler (2008). ‘Chav Mum, Chav Scum: Class Disgust in Contemporary Britain’ Feminist Media
Studies vol. 8 no. 2. pp.17-34.
37
See Niall Ferguson (2012) Civilisation: The West and the Rest, (London: Penguin)
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