Tigray: The Power of Collective Voices: Lessons from Argentina, Rwanda, Bosnia, Colombia, and South Africa

We, Tegaru, are living through a genocide that continues to inflict profound wounds. It is not the past. Peace has not been restored. Widespread warfare has quieted but peace remains absent. We had a fighting and a drone strike by the Ethiopian government as late as 2026, four years after the Pretoria Peace Agreement.  Our people continue to go through ethnic cleansing, what should actually be termed as genocide, in Western Tigray. Human Rights Watch reported on this atrocity just a couple of days ago. Ethnic cleansing is only politically convenient. This term absolves the international community of responsibility, which is why it is preferred.

We have also seen no meaningful justice or accountability for atrocities committed thus far. The International Commission of Human Rights Experts on Ethiopia was discontinued, without even completing its investigation let alone bringing about justice and accountability. 

For many, all of this is not just a political condition; it is a deeply personal, unresolved quest, an unfinished tragic story that shapes everyday life. 

This big gap is not isolated. It is shared across communities who are undergoing similar stories of violence and silence. What is common among these experiences is not only the suffering, but the ongoing atrocities and lack of justice, resulting in lack of closure. 

Some of us are busy with international pleas for justice. We call for attention to ongoing violence directed against our people. I don’t object to calling international attention. Nor do I undermine the power in international attention. But, before seeking external attention, there is an urgent need to turn inward in order to have collective power as well as unified narrative and demands.  

The Necessity of a United Voice

A unified voice is not optional. It is critical. History consistently shows that fragmented demands weaken movements, while unity amplifies them. In Argentina, the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo transformed personal grief into collective action, demanding accountability for disappeared loved ones during the military dictatorship. What is amazing is that this movement was powerful in the midst of military dictatorship. Their unified voice became so powerful that it was a global symbol of resistance and helped push for justice.

In contrast, where communities remain divided, international engagement often falters. Competing narratives create ambiguity. Unity does not require identical view points in everything, but agreement on core truths and shared demands. 

And this, we must sustain. Only after building internal consensus can we effectively engage the international system. Global attention is often shaped by clarity. Sustained action depends on consistent, unified advocacy.

Further, involving those in Tigray, with the primary voice centering on first hand victims: victims of conflict-related sexual violence, the internally displaced, those who were and continue to be arbitrarily detained, families of the massacred, and other atrocities, is critical. The Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo was led by the families of the disappeared. Similarly, our task as Tegaru is to amplify, not replace, the voices of first hand victims. 

 From Individual Pain to Collective Memory

Second, as Tegaru, we must gather to document our lived experiences, including current atrocities. This can of course be done as fragmented stories, but it should be weaved into a shared  record. Because, memory, if left unowned by the whole community, becomes vulnerable to distortion, denial, or erasure. 

Other societies who experienced genocide show the consequences of failing or succeeding in this process.

In Rwanda, after the 1994 genocide, community-based Gacaca courts were established not only to prosecute crimes but to create a shared narrative of what happened. This collective acknowledgment helped rebuild social cohesion, even amid immense trauma.

In Bosnia and Herzegovina, however, competing narratives about the 1990s war continue to divide communities decades later. Denial of the Srebrenica genocide has hindered reconciliation and reinforced fragmentation. It is despite this and not because of it that international courts have recognized the Srebrenica massacre as genocide.

These examples illustrate a critical truth: without a shared understanding of the past, we, Tegaru, risk remaining trapped in it even if we have international recognition. Amen to international recognition. But, we will continue to have conflicting narratives unless we start with convening in order to have a unified voice. When I say this, I am not denying that there are those who diverge primarily because of political and other self-interests. Even while accounting for this, narratives matter. And we must convene for this. 

Defining Justice—From the Ground Up

In addition, justice must be defined by those who have suffered first hand, and not imposed on them. There should be a clear understanding that it is not just a verdict at ICC that matters most. It is what our community demands that matters more.  In contexts of genocide, justice could be criminal accountability, truth-telling and acknowledgment, reparations, restoration of dignity and safety, or another, or maybe all. It varies and must be clarified as to what we are demanding. This must first be done internally. First hand victims must have the center of this discussion: victims of conflict-related sexual violence, the internally displaced, those who were and continue to be arbitrarily detained, families of the massacred, and more. 

Like movements led by victims and those that resulted in unified voices, there are countries who succeeded in what they demanded by centering victims. On the other hand, there are those that did not. 

Colombia is an example which succeeded. The 2016 peace agreement with FARC included a Special Jurisdiction for Peace. It blended accountability with restorative justice. Victims were placed at the center of defining outcomes, through truth commissions and reparations.

In South Africa, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) prioritized truth over punishment in many cases. However, it was controversial.

Again, there is a lesson learned for us. The essential question is: What does justice mean to us, and are we aligned in what we demand? Without this, advocacy risks becoming ineffective, particularly in responding to our quest for justice. 

Closing the Unfinished Tragedy

The unanswered question, the unfinished tragedy, cannot be resolved through silence, fragmentation, or external intervention alone. 

Experiences from Argentina, Rwanda, Bosnia, Colombia, and South Africa reveal a pattern: that survivor-led movements,  documenting and agreeing on a common truth, acknowledging shared suffering, collectively defining what we want from justice and accountability initiatives are nonnegotiable. So is centering survivors in all that we do. 

We must ensure that when we speak, we do so together—with clarity, purpose, and collective voice, giving primacy to the most impacted. Only then can peace and justice move from aspiration to reality. And, this requires both empathy and organizing skills. It is not an easy task. But, a nonnegotiable one nonetheless.