I’ve been working in the human rights and corporate accountability field long enough that I’m rarely surprised by the shenanigans large corporations will pull to maximize their profits, to greenwash their brand, and to avoid responsibility for the negative impacts of their work. But last night I read the brief that Shell had just filed with the Supreme Court, arguing that it should be immune from suit for participating in human rights abuses against protestors in Nigeria, and I found myself fuming when I encountered this passage:
“South Africa, for example, explained that it had ‘enacted legislation … [that] deliberately avoided a “victors’ justice” approach to the crimes of apartheid and chose instead one based on confession and absolution, informed by the principles of reconciliation, reconstruction, reparation and goodwill.’”
My colleague, Jonathan, has written a preliminary legal analysis of Shell's brief, including a response to this particular section, but what I want to talk about, in this post, is the perverse moral gymnastics that Shell had to employ to reference South Africa’s Truth & Reconciliation Commission – one of the most noble-intentioned undertakings in human history – in defense of their own disregard for justice and human rights. My path to the human rights movement began in South Africa in 2002, studying the reconciliation process, so this is a topic very dear to my heart.
In early 2006, during my second trip to South Africa, I spent an afternoon in a dark, dusty, crowded classroom in the township of Gugulethu, outside of Cape Town, speaking with two remarkable people: Linda Biehl, an American mother whose daughter, Amy, was murdered in the closing days of Apartheid, and Ntobeko Peni, one of Amy’s convicted killers. Years earlier, when the four convicts applied for amnesty through the Truth & Reconciliation Commission (TRC), Linda and her husband had attended the hearing, supported the amnesty request, and, upon their release, shaken hands with their daughter’s killers.
This alone would be an astounding story of forgiveness and compassion, but by the time I met them in Guguletu, Ntobeko and Linda’s story had become even more improbable: they were working side by side, daily, at the Amy Biehl Foundation, running youth empowerment programs and educating visitors on restorative justice.