About two dozen of us stood with unlit candles, gathered in front of Memorial Church to remember the swiftest and most violent bloodletting of our time--the 1994 Rwandan genocide. Dusk would blend into night with the grace of a returning spring, but none of us noticed. Our attention was instead focused on a slew of academics, activists victims who with a moving mixture of eloquence, pomp and passion, described those three months of unbridled insanity and lamented the rediscovered hollowness of slogans like "Never Again."

This was one of the many gatherings held around the world last week to commemorate the anniversary of the genocide. Since then, we've seen war crimes tribunals emerge, world leaders (almost) apologize for their inaction, refugee surges that have turned the phrase "mass exodus" into a shopworn cliche, and human suffering on a scale that seems to defy explanation or understanding. We've also seen our government make at least one small attempt to salvage a semblance of humanity in international affairs--the appointment of a special ambassador, David Scheffer, to deal with war crimes issues.

The paroxysm of killing in Rwanda took place on a massive scale. Between 500,000 and one million Rwandans were slaughtered in less than three months. No gas chambers or concentrations camps were used; the killing was done with machine guns and machetes, in classrooms and churches. Neighbors turned on old friends and colleagues targeted co-workers. There were no elite extermination squads; among both the victims and the perpetrators were the young and the elderly.

Even four years later, sporadic violence continues as the country struggles to rebuild itself; thousands languish in prisons, accused of complicity in the genocide; 12-year-old orphans suddenly become breadwinners and protectors for their surviving younger siblings.

Last month, President Clinton came the closest he ever has to acknowledging the blame that America shares for this catastrophe. During his three-hour stay in Rwanda, with an idling Air Force One behind him, Clinton acknowledged that the United States and the international community could have done more to stop the killing, and finally acknowledged what happened in the spring of 1994 for what it was.

There is nothing that you or I or Bill Clinton or Kofi Annan can do about the hundreds of thousands who lost their lives in Rwanda and Bosnia. But at least the need for justice has been recognized--not just to salve our consciences and salvage our credibility, but to help reconcile the people who must deal with the aftermath of these tragedies and to prevent the past from a vengeful return. It is, after all that we did not do, the least that can be done now.

Two special ad hoc tribunals run by the United Nations, one for Bosnia, the other for Rwanda, are charged with the unenviable task of meting out justice to those accused of war crimes, and are frustrated by a lack of resources and cooperation from various countries. Despite these problems, the UN will convene a special conference in Rome this summer to try to work out the final details for a proposed International Criminal Court (ICC) for genocide and war crimes.

Ambassador Scheffer is the State Department's point man on this effort and his appointment is an encouraging sign from the administration. But not every branch of our government is cooperating with international efforts. For example, this past winter, a federal judge in Texas refused to extradite a Rwandan accused of genocide being held by U.S. marshals.

The International Criminal Court is far from a perfect idea, but that is all it is right now--an idea, not even an unsigned piece of paper. To abort it now, before it is even born, is an act of cowardice and complicity.

There are valid legal concerns over mapping out the Court's jurisdiction and defining the power of its prosecutor and important moral questions about whether or not a universal standard of justice is applicable, or even desirable. These objections, however, should be discussed and debated in Rome; they should not be used to kill the endeavor from Capitol Hill. Some of the most heinous human beings of our time are laughing at the world right now, confident that they will never be punished for their crimes, and it seems as though they may be right.

Perhaps we can help silence the laughter and instead hear the tears of sorrow transform into sighs of relief for the families of the murdered. And perhaps, in the background, we may hear the first faint footsteps on the long path to redemption, and recognize the travelers to be ourselves.

Darryl Li '01 is a member of the Woodbridge Speaker Series, which is hosting a speech by Ambassador Scheffer this Thursday at 8 p.m. in the Leverett House library.