Truth Commissions

lessons from the past

The emerging model of post-conflict recovery in international law consists of truth commissions providing mediation in conjunction with the adjudication offered by trials (Humphrey, 2002). Truth commissions are defined by the power dynamics that surround them; they mediate between politics and populations, negotiating clashes over conflicting interpretations of the past (Bakiner, 2016). Humphrey describes the suffering of individuals as a “fulcrum,” which can transform repressive forces into reconstructive ones (2002, p. 993). He points out that terrorism and truth commission work are opposites, in that the former uses violence to dismantle or silence opposition, while the latter reframes victimization for productive aims, such as the reconstruction of communities (2002).

Truth commissions are considered to have evolved from the judicial approaches of Nuremberg (Phelps, 2004). They enjoy popularity because they succeed in ways that conventional methods of international and domestic law have failed (Bakiner, 2016). The truth commission model has been applied to issues far removed from large-scale political violence, such as banking, educational performance, and drug use in professional sports (2016). Truth commissions and their final reports did not exist until the 1970s (Phelps, 2004), suggesting they constitute an instrument of international criminal law that is still in development. Truth commissions exemplify the conversational nature of international law, in that individual state attempts to publish final reports contribute to the refinement of an international model.

Bakiner defines a truth commission as a “temporary body established with an official mandate to investigate past human rights violations, identify the patterns and causes of violence, and publish a final report through a politically autonomous procedure” (2016, p. 24). Impermanence distinguishes the truth commission from a freestanding human rights organization or NGO (2016). It must publish its findings in the form of a final report, which also makes recommendations (2016). A failure to publish a report contradicts the fundamental task of a truth commission (2016).

Truth commissions present an opportunity for domestic and international human rights efforts to join forces (2016). Commission staffers are often citizens with no formal connection to government or, occasionally, to the state in question (Phelps, 2004). The appointment of commissioners is a process undoubtedly vulnerable to political influence; final reports are defined as much by appointed commissioners as by the candidates who were, for one reason or another, passed over (Bakiner, 2016). The fact that structurally healthy truth commissions enjoy considerable discretion once assembled suggests that political influence, once installed in the form of a commissioner, would be protected long after appointment. Truth commissions are often suspected to be tools of incoming regimes for the purpose of self-legitimization (2016). However, evidence against this is found in the results of autonomous truth commissions publishing final reports containing damning information for the very politicians who appointed the commissioners (2016).

Commissions do what they can to avoid any resemblance to partisan entities related to government, which is important due to the political origins of many truth commissioners (2016). The motives of politicians establishing commissions may be discernable, but those of their appointed commissioners within truth commissions are more complex (2016).

Phelps details several major benefits of truth commissions. One benefit is described as “foundational,” as the appropriation of life into story is a profoundly human process (Phelps, 2004, p. 55). Storytelling is a way to rationalize life while developing communities in the process (2004). Another benefit is the restorative nature of victim testimony; repressive regimes often rely on the ability to manipulate or silence accounts of victimization, and truth commission final reports are an excellent medium for correcting this imbalance (Phelps, 2004). Perhaps most important, the final report turns story collections into a grand narrative that can “actualize a radically new kind of constitutive history for an emerging democracy” (Phelps, 2004, p. 56).

Truth commission final reports are a relatively new medium in international law, and they provide substantial return on investment for states lacking resources for traditional proceedings and prosecutions (Phelps, 2004). Each commission must question how it can achieve its objectives within the constraints of the format of a final report (Rotberg, 2000). Final reports accomplish their tasks in part by delegitimizing perpetrators to affect long-term normative change (Bakiner, 2016).

Truth commission final reports portray complicated emotional dynamics of past violence in a unique way (Phelps, 2004). Final reports are master narratives in the sense that they “impose a form of story” on the content they offer (Phelps, 2004, p. 79). They vary significantly in level of detail: South Africa’s report is 2,739 pages, El Salvador’s contained 252 pages, and Chile’s contained 893 (Phelps, 2004). Final reports not only describe a former state; they create the history of the incoming government, and the power to decide historical narrative is a substantial one (2004).

When states move toward and release a final report, this constitutes a very public signal to citizens and victims that a new, sympathetic government is in power (Phelps, 2004). Final reports vary in scope of publication and rate of dissemination: Zimbabwe kept their report confidential, the Argentinean final report became a popular book, and the Chilean government delivered its final report directly to families of victims (2004). The release of final reports can facilitate judgment and condemnation for crimes in ways that trials cannot (Rotberg, 2000), and from the perspective of narrative theory, truth commission final reports consolidate the stories of victims into a narrative plot that is ideologically useful for the emerging state (Phelps, 2004).

Transitional democracies have much to gain from final reports; they can provide a much-needed post-conflict historical orientation (Phelps, 2004). Final reports are the mechanism through which individual memory becomes collective memory (Humphrey, 2002). In struggling economies and states decimated by past conflict, a new narrative established by a final report can invigorate morale (Phelps, 2004). After the completion of a final report, civil society groups and international interests are often mobilized to either see that an unpublished report is published or to pursue the implementation of recommendations made by a published report (Bakiner, 2016). Final reports can be a literal basis for tangible change. The Chilean final report’s list of victims became the state’s list of beneficiaries for reparations (Hayner, 2001).

Final reports can cause serious domestic problems, especially in the wake of their publication. They can sow discord in civil society; initiatives that prioritize forgiveness and healing can clash with groups and individuals interested in a hard line of criminal accountability (Bakiner, 2016). Final reports can re-victimize the participants by using their stories for political aims (Humphrey, 2002), and because of this, Humphrey suggests it is often the victims who perform the most difficult tasks of reconciliation (2002). Indeed, victim testimony can be reduced to evidence that supports a new master narrative (Phelps, 2004). Some criticize the approach of creating collective memory in the form of a final report, as memory inevitably leaves out important details (Humphrey, 2002). Commissions are often blamed for creating new problems while solving old ones (Phelps, 2004), though it should be expected that an authentic final report will result in short-term disagreements and tensions (Bakiner, 2016).

Some truth commissions fail to publish their report, while others fail to create one. Political authorities that move to conceal the final report of a truth commission interfere with the commission’s ability to influence norms and policy (Bakiner, 2016). An elusive final report is correlated with a lack of autonomy for a commission (2016). The failure of a report to see publication (or the failure of civil society to accept the findings of a published report) does not, however, prevent alternative approaches to truth, as elusive final reports can be a catalyst for unofficial commissions (2016). While official commissions and final reports may fail, they produce valuable lessons that inform the growth of the truth commission model for international criminal law.

Truth commissions indicate a global shift toward the reintegration of narrative across disciplines (Phelps, 2004). Logical argument has been preferred over narrative since ancient Greece (2004), and the resurgence of narrative-based concepts within burgeoning legal instruments suggests narratives will contribute to the evolution of international criminal law in the years to come. Phelps mentions that, for Hegel, states must construct master narratives in order to achieve self-actualization (2004).

Seeking to craft a new national narrative that integrated difficult memories, the Brazilian, Chilean, and Argentinean commissions published reports with the same motto of *Nunca Mas* (Never Again) (Humphrey, 2002). While the TRC report (South Africa) condemned the leadership of both the apartheid government and the opposition movement, the narrative established a moral plane that justified the opposition’s cause (Sriram, 2004). The Chilean report contains several layers of narrative, including but not limited to the story of the report’s creation, the testimony of victims, and the narrative of the state (Phelps, 2004).

All attempts at truth commissions, successful or not, have made valuable contributions to the model. Some commissions failed for reasons that would be difficult to blame on any individual or group, and identifying these issues assists the design of future commissions and regulates expectations.

When finances were tight, the Ugandan commission would stop all operations (Quinn, 2010). Ecuador’s case is unique in that the overall institutional instability within the state caused a truth commission to disband (Bakiner, 2016), suggesting that a failure to release a report may not be hard evidence of corruption or interference. In Peru, death threats to commissioners coincided with the consolidation of the organization’s work into what would become the final report (Hayner, 2001). Citing less-than-desirable degrees of forensic evidence, Chile’s commission elected to redact names of perpetrators from the final report (Hayner, 2001). Sri Lanka’s final report was hindered by a widespread problem during the investigation phase: military uniforms did not feature any identification tags, and victims struggled to identify their perpetrators (Sriram, 2004).

Criticism of truth commission efforts in Uganda must be weighed against the reality of its typical national budget; at the turn of the millennium, the state operated on a mere 568 million USD, with human rights concerns allotted a small fraction of a percent (Quinn, 2010). The 1986 Philippine truth commission collapsed within months of its establishment due to a lack of resources, and no report was issued (Phelps, 2004). Bolivia’s commission, which investigated disappearances between 1960 and 1980, was abandoned before its inquiries could be completed (Bakiner, 2016).

While the TRC’s final report is applauded, shortcomings were numerous. The South African commission’s resources were not enough to achieve what the commission interpreted as the full scope of its mandate (Rotberg, 2000). South Africa noted in its final report that, due to the inaccessibility of the commission to many individuals, the list of victims should be open to revision (Hayner, 2001). The South African final report also admitted that its working concepts of human rights, which guided its processes, were insufficient in that they overlooked types of crimes that overwhelmingly affected females (Hayner, 2001).

The length of time a commission is given to complete its work can diminish the effects and authenticity of the report (Quinn, 2010). Limiting the scope of a truth commission’s investigation or final report to a specific period can also generate controversy (Bakiner, 2016). South Africa was unable to connect names of victims to their families due to time constraints, and data suggests staffers left out the vast majority of relevant names (Hayner, 2001). The Peruvian government was given a fixed window of 24 months to complete its work, and as a result, the sub-mandate to explore violence directed at Andean communities was neglected (Hayner, 2001). The Argentinean effort, known as CONADEP, only had several months to conduct research and finalize a report (Phelps, 2004). A fractured insurgency in Peru reassembled beyond the periodization limits of a truth commission in the state, and many potential crimes and criminals were omitted as a result (Bakiner, 2016).

For Haiti, time constraints and demanding mandate provisions taxed the commission process. The commission was obligated to deliver a largely unfinished report to an outgoing president, as the mandate specified the final report be delivered specifically to President Aristide and not to an imminent successor (Quinn, 2010). The initial draft of the final report for Haiti was expedited to such an extreme that it was submitted to the president without appendices, missing a significant amount of information (2010). Time caused the final report to be renounced by its writers (2010).

Guatemala’s truth commission was given a limit of six months, with an option to extend no longer than 12, to complete the entire process and issue a report (Quinn, 2010). The chairman of the Guatemalan commission insisted that minimum and maximum timeframes help steer a commission, and no commission should continue for longer than a period of five years (Quinn, 2010). Uganda’s truth commission took many years before data matured into a viable final report (Quinn, 2010). Indeed, the short history of truth commissions suggests that time constraints strain the quality or preclude the possibility of final reports.

Some commission failures relate to the negligence or malice of individuals and groups involved in and surrounding the truth commission process. Final reports can be lost when those in power desire to obstruct them. Bolivia, Ecuador, Yugoslavia, Uganda, and Zimbabwe form a unique group in that their commissions failed to publicize their findings in any way (Bakiner, 2016). The people of Zimbabwe were never allowed access to a completed report from a commission originally established to research the human rights violations that occurred during a clash between government forces and a revolutionary faction (Bakiner, 2016).

The effects of the Haitian final report were limited due to the literacy problem in the state. Because illiteracy was widespread, few could access and digest the report, which was essentially a resource exclusively for the elite (Quinn, 2010). The final report was also written in French, which excluded the vast number of citizens who only spoke Creole (Quinn, 2010). As a result of these obstacles, most Haitians have never been exposed to a copy of the final report in any of its stages (Quinn, 2010).

It is believed that Aristide chose not to publish Haiti’s final report because he found it to contain certain details (able to identify individuals) that he judged to be inappropriate for a courtroom (Quinn, 2010). The government’s handling of the Haitian final report led many to believe political leadership never took responsibility for the process (Quinn, 2010). The treatment of the final report is indicative of the political atmosphere in Haiti. Haitians and their government were apprehensive about the activities of the truth commission, and citizens compared the handling of the process to the actions of past corrupt governments (Quinn, 2010).

The international sourcing of truth commission staff can result in problematic overcompensation for a lack of representation in final reports. For El Salvador, the UN became directly involved through Secretary General Bouros-Ghali’s appointment of three commissioners sourced from other states (Phelps, 2004). The report, written by outsiders, included a selection of Mayan poetry in an attempt to craft a relatable narrative, the results subject to domestic criticism (Phelps, 2004).

Mandates often outline the specific crimes to be explored and detailed in a truth commission’s final report. Chile’s commission mandate constrained the process, solely focusing on events that resulted in death (Bakiner, 2016), producing a final report that does not amplify the voices of any living victims (Phelps, 2004). This degree of specificity in a truth commission model may influence the degree to which that commission could be considered victim-centered, as it is common knowledge that many who suffered under Pinochet survived (Bakiner, 2016).

The Salvadorian report made an active choice to focus on perpetrators, and this made a substantial impact on its master narrative (Phelps, 2004). The document’s vengeful tone caused the President to criticize the report for ignoring the wishes of many citizens desiring to make peace with past violence and move forward (Phelps, 2004). Phelps suggests that, because of a perpetrator-focused mandate, a balance would not have been possible under narrative theory (Phelps, 2004). The Argentinean final report suggests it may be worth omitting accusations toward perpetrators; while individual accusations may satisfy immediate goals of expression, they may prolong oppression in a different form (Phelps, 2004). Indeed, there remains an unfortunate stigma for the people named in Argentina’s final report (Crocker, 2000). Argentina and El Salvador serve as examples of why victim-focused reports with a restrained tone are desirable.

The Uruguayan final report is deemed suspicious because of last-minute changes, suspected to have been carried out under political pressure (Hayner, 2001). The parliament negotiated the content of the final report of its commission, and Bakiner (2016) argues that this disqualifies the commission.

The Moroccan truth commission was carried out amidst complaints by civil society groups for a lack of information about the fate of many individuals who were disappeared (Hayner, 2001). The final report complained that the commission was not afforded the powers its mandate had originally promised, such as search and seizure or subpoenas (Hayner, 2001). This may be related to the informal nature of negotiations with the King who enabled the truth commission.

Sri Lanka created three separate truth commissions for a single investigation, each with a different mandate and temporal jurisdiction, each criticized by human rights advocates for failing to address over 12,000 complaints that remain unattended (Sriram, 2004). Sri Lanka’s three reports were problematic as they differed in length and quality (Hayner, 2001). The president later created a unified commission to address the complaints that were left unexamined, but the commission’s mandate was criticized for failing to dictate the president’s promise where it would matter (Sriram, 2004).

President Kostunica of Yugoslavia empowered a truth commission to produce an alternative story to the one he felt was being put forward by the ICTY (Bakiner, 2016). The commission was disbanded due to a failure to set and uphold a mandate, and political leadership was disinterested in prioritizing a human rights investigation (Bakiner, 2016). Many felt the commission problematically focused on explanations of past government failure at the expense of human rights issues (Bakiner, 2016).

Uganda’s truth commission attempted to gather testimony concerned with the atrocities that took place between 1962 and 1986. The final report is 750 pages, and contains names of victims, testimony, and recommendations (Quinn, 2010). The final report was not published, and any recommendations offered by the failed commission were ignored by the government (Bakiner, 2016). Idi Amin’s truth commission is believed to have been an attempt to distract international human rights efforts, as he ensured the report, which was compiled seriously, was scuttled (Phelps, 2004). For both Uganda and Haiti, the encouragement of the government disappeared once final reports were compiled and delivered (Quinn, 2010). Because these final reports were ultimately obstructed, the efforts and results of the commissions were, in many ways, lost to history (Quinn, 2010).

For South Africa, the heroic tone given to the testimony of final reports was considered to be at odds with the manner in which victims recounted their experiences (Humphrey, 2002). The language of the South African final report conflated revenge with justice, the results homogenizing the desires of victims to suit a narrative (Kiss, 2000). The South African final report did contain the commission’s acknowledgment that its processes had unearthed a considerable amount of anger over past events (Kiss, 2000).

Nelson Mandela made an informed decision to uncover information by offering individuals amnesty for it (Rotberg, 2000). The final report discussed the application process for amnesty, requests for which overwhelmingly came from perpetrators who killed on behalf of elusive leadership that failed to take responsibility for authoring the orders issued (Hayner, 2001). Amidst criticism, the commission argued that due to the public nature of the disclosure process, amnesty was not given without accountability (Kiss, 2000). The amnesty committee was a separate organ within the truth commission, which meant the truth acquired in exchange for amnesty did not join the truth selected to promote reconciliation (Gutmann & Thompson, 2000). The successes and shortcomings of the South African commission reverberated in future plans for truth commissions; a truth commission without the ability to grant amnesty was later proposed for Yugoslavia (Kiss, 2000).

Obstruction was a significant problem for the TRC report. The content of the final report caused last-minute efforts on both sides of the conflict to prevent its release. Mandela received and reviewed the report while many members of the political elite were attempting to halt publication (Phelps, 2004). The former president, de Klerk, sued the commission in an attempt to prevent the inclusion of his name in the final report (Hayner, 2001). As report findings could be contested before release, de Klerk’s mentions were controversially removed the day before the report was due for circulation (Villavicencio & Verwoerd, 2000). The incoming government’s entire party attempted to prevent the release of the report, but the courts blocked their efforts (Hayner, 2001). The wife of Nelson Mandela was found to be a founder of an oppositional group that carried out flagrant violations of international human rights (Sriram, 2004), but Mandela approved the report regardless. South Africa demonstrates how unilateral discontent among elites regarding a truth commission’s final report is perhaps indicative of that report’s integrity; report obstruction should be expected for this developing instrument of international law.

The way societies have reacted to the publication of a final report is encouraging for the truth commission model, with a few exceptions. Following the release of final reports, politicians and military influencers in El Salvador and Nepal quickly passed amnesty laws out of fear of prosecution (Bakiner, 2016). News of the impending publication of the Salvadorian final report created a chaotic atmosphere, with society speculating on who would be named, to the degree of “mass hysteria” (Hayner, 2001, p.50). The final report was well received but is questioned by some; human rights advocates in the U.S. criticized the omission of the U.S. government's role in the report (Hayner, 2001). The final reports of Peru and Guatemala exposed systemic institutional racism and economic inequality, exemplifying how a truth commission process can, and perhaps should, observe and report beyond the concerns of a mandate (Bakiner, 2016).

President Aylwin received the Chilean commission’s final report in 1991, and upon its publication, it was rejected by military leaders (Phelps, 2004). Despite the uproar, the narrative was clear: in the wake of Pinochet’s authoritative rule, the Aylwin administration had become a regime of “closure” through the decision to publish the report (Phelps, 2004, p.93).

In Ghana, a comprehensive final report was accepted wholeheartedly by the government, which responded with apologies for victims and demands to implement recommendations (Hayner, 2001). In Sri Lanka, when the final reports were published, it acknowledged the government’s responsibility for a death toll in the tens of thousands, with a military official making a promise of non-repetition (Sriram, 2004). Modest dissent tends to be widespread, and the cases of Chile, Peru, Guatemala, and El Salvador featured outspoken criticism or rejection of the final report by military leadership. Chilean courts even suggested the text jeopardized an already fragile stability in the state’s domestic institutions (Bakiner, 2016).

President Alfonsín received the Argentinean report, along with fifty thousand pages of supportive files, and ordered its immediate publication (Phelps, 2004). The report became a best-seller, largely because the narrative embedded within promised a brighter future (Phelps, 2004). Additionally, it constituted a guarantee of non-repetition for citizens who embraced the narrative (Phelps, 2004).

Argentina demonstrates how balances must be struck between narrative construction, blame placement, and declarations for a new government, while avoiding the modification of victim testimony to serve these purposes (Phelps, 2004). The Argentinean report created a standard for final reports, with victim narratives shaping a consistent tone throughout, clearly laying responsibility for past atrocities at the feet of the military (Phelps, 2004). It emphasized that violence was systematic and strategically planned, not a series of unrelated political murders (Phelps, 2004). This set an important precedent for truth commission final reports regarding the clarity of criminality. Commission writers erased the possibility of military innocence from the new national narrative, preventing justification for criminals (Phelps, 2004). The report made a calculated decision to omit the political affiliations of victims, which is believed to have short-circuited likely attempts to justify certain crimes on political grounds (Hayner, 2001). These efforts were a success, with over 500 officers facing criminal charges based on the final report (Kiss, 2000).

Through the public nature of the commission’s work and the recognition of dissent, the South African final report “exemplified the norms of a new democratic society” (Kiss, 2000, p.90). The report was also successful in assuming a correlation between preserving the details of past crimes and preventing similar crimes in the future (Phelps, 2004). The TRC report received praise for successfully exposing various criminal conduct, including evidence of chemical and biological experimentation performed exclusively on black citizens (Rotberg, 2000).

The South African report was unique in that it crafted a narrative for an entirely new state (Phelps, 2004). The report made creative use of photographic media, with each chapter featuring a unique photograph related to the atrocities (Phelps, 2004). The narrative structure of the report was guided by small typography choices: italics were used for individual stories, while bold was used for official commission findings (Phelps, 2004). Chile’s report had a similarly intentional design, as the language and tone progressed from bleak, pessimistic portrayals of violence to hopeful pacifism by the end of the text (Phelps, 2004).

The TRC final report is praised for condemning both the apartheid regime and certain members of the new government taking its place (Bakiner, 2016). The report is considered successful because it did not separate “processes from product,” unlike the commissions for Chile and Argentina (Crocker, 2000, p.130). As the TRC presented its report to parliament, many waited to see if this new model could deliver reconciliation (Quinn, 2010). The international community supported the final report and was enthusiastic about its reception (Quinn, 2010). The final report, spanning 3,500 pages, angered most politicians regardless of affiliation (Sriram, 2004). Its effects on criminal proceedings were immediate, as the commission met with prosecutors after the publication of the final report and provided specific names as part of formal recommendations for charges (Hayner, 2001).

The final report of the TRC is largely unchallenged in the international community and is celebrated for its lack of bias (Villavicencio & Verwoerd, 2000). Desmond Tutu penned the introduction to the South African report, carefully sidestepping accusations in favor of reflection (Phelps, 2004). Some believe the TRC final report identified more perpetrators than prosecutions would have (Kiss, 2000). Whatever the case, the publication of the South African report “launched, for good or ill, a culture of truth reports” (Phelps, 2004, p.117).

The Liberian final report distinguished between perpetrators who should be tried in domestic courts and those whose crimes were egregious enough to warrant judgment by an international tribunal (Hayner, 2001). This suggests that final report recommendations shape the boundaries of domestic and international law. Liberia’s report was impactful because of the broad powers given to the commission; recommendations were considered "near-mandatory" (Hayner, 2001, p.68). However, political power compromised the authority of these recommendations when the president announced a re-election campaign that went against a specific recommendation (Hayner, 2001).

Some recommendations have called for drastic changes to institutions and the adoption of international laws. In 1995, the president of Honduras, Reina, was given a final report that recommended placing the police under the control of the civilian population while the country ratified international human rights conventions (Sriram, 2004). Unfortunately, domestic recommendations can sometimes be difficult for the international community to support; Liberia’s report, for instance, recommended granting amnesty to an individual responsible for over a thousand victims in exchange for their cooperation with the commission (Hayner, 2001).

Truth commissions have sparked international disputes over definitions of truth and justice. Richard Goldstone, a prosecutor for the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY), asserts that justice can be the acquisition of truth through any legal instrument (Goldstone, 2004). He argues that criminal prosecution and truth discovery are both forms of justice and need not be considered as substitutes for each other (Goldstone, 2004). A final report can deliver justice by establishing truth, which in turn can distinguish between innocence and guilt (Kiss, 2000). For transitional governments, the concept of truth is often linked to acknowledging the errors of a political past (du Toit, 2000).

Phelps argues that the best way to describe truth commission final reports is not to label them as strictly "truth" or "justice," but rather to recognize them as a new instrument of international law that acts as a "prelude to justice" (Phelps, 2004, p.53). Various data from final reports have even been used in foreign lawsuits (Bakiner, 2016), suggesting that reports are becoming valuable resources for international law.

As truth commissions are still a developing tool, transparency remains crucial. As commissioners debate and define key terms (e.g., whether truth should be defined historically or forensically, as debated by Peruvian commissioners), the publication of a commission’s minutes can establish transparency and reassure civil society groups and the international community (Bakiner, 2016). In Haiti, commissioners disagreed over whether an individual crime could be considered a crime against humanity (Quinn, 2010), and the transparency of this disagreement helped shape international legal concepts.

A society's exposure to a truth commission’s final report is correlated with the integration of international human rights norms (Bakiner, 2016), making truth commissions a valuable way to promote adherence to international law. Final reports also set competitive international standards; Sierra Leone attempted to surpass earlier truth commissions by fully implementing its recommendations (Hayner, 2001).

The relationship between international norms and truth commission reports is reciprocal. For instance, the recommendations in Ghana’s report were significant for prioritizing reparations for women, as women were disproportionately affected by economic and physical hardship (Hayner, 2001). It is widely agreed that truth commissions must improve advocacy across gender boundaries, and specialized training for gender-sensitive issues is becoming more common (Hayner, 2001). Kiss suggests that by "identifying structural causes of human rights violations, commission reports reveal systematic patterns of accountability that may be a valuable resource for future political mobilization" (Kiss, 2000, p.75).

The impact of all attempted final reports (published or not) on the development of the truth commission model cannot be understated. However, it must be acknowledged that a failure to publish a final report prevents substantial political and social change (Bakiner, 2016). Successful commissions are often associated with states in which civil society groups and human rights organizations exert pressure on politicians to seek truth (Bakiner, 2016). Past commission efforts suggest that report writers must find a balance between eliminating bias and minimizing special treatment (Crocker, 2000). Reports can serve as a unifying force among social groups divided by the political violence that inspired the commission (Phelps, 2004).

The truth commission model has emerged as an institutionalized approach to investigating past atrocities in states struggling with divisions inherited from such events (Bakiner, 2016). Narratives established by truth commission final reports set new standards by which civil society can judge an incoming government’s orientation to international law and human rights norms (Bakiner, 2016). While final reports can synthesize new political environments (Phelps, 2004), it remains challenging to measure the long-term changes truth commissions may have made to societal norms (Bakiner, 2016).

Truth commissions continue to consider various viewpoints. Activities within civil society, which encompasses entities beyond the official state, significantly influence how much attention human rights concerns receive (Bakiner, 2016). While civil society's momentum is integral to generating truth commissions, it is important that their contributions are "assessed rather than assumed" (Bakiner, 2016, p.47). Conflicts over final reports are to be expected, and productive cooperation between truth commissions and incoming governments should be valued, as it is not guaranteed (Bakiner, 2016).

Final reports have led to swift results in some cases; criminal investigations in Chile and Argentina followed final report publications (Crocker, 2000). Hayner argues that truth commissions with quickly implemented recommendations are often more efficient than prosecutors who take years to consolidate individual cases (Hayner, 2001). Efficiency should be balanced with respect for a commission's mandate. It is important for a truth commission to support the needs of its establishing government (often fragile and in transition) without sacrificing autonomy (Bakiner, 2016).

Truth commissions and their final reports are still evolving, but together they form a working model for a promising instrument in international criminal law. The international community continues to explore ways to refine this model effectively. Acknowledging the limitations of final reports has led to momentum for scholars and journalists to build on the data (Villa-vicencio & Verwoerd, 2000). There are also growing efforts to integrate final report findings into academic curricula, both domestically and internationally (Bakiner, 2016).

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• Sriram, C.L. (2004). *Confronting Past Human Rights Violations: Justice vs. Peace in Times of Transition.* New York, NY: Frank Cass.
• Villa-vicencio, C., & Verwoerd, W. (2000). Constructing a Report: Writing up the "Truth." In Rotberg, R. & Thompson, D. (Eds.), *Truth v. Justice: Morality of Truth Commissions* (pp. 279-295). Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.\