The New School screening of “The Silent Scream”

12. December 2014.00:00
The week before we watched the film, our class on Conflict and Norms with Professor Anna Di Lellio had a lively discussion about rape as a war crime. Usually, when people talk about rape, men are absent from the discussion. It is as if women are the only victims. What conditions compel men to speak up or stay quiet, and how do traditional gender expectations come into play? We spoke about this for hours.

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Our class noticed that the presence of male voices in “The Silent Scream” shifted the narrative. In particular, the male survivors spoke about rape as torture, in contrast to women, who had a hard time speaking at all. While digesting the film, we came to the realization that we “liked” the male characters and wanted to hear more from them, in part because they seem to react more actively than women.

We wanted to hear more from them because their reaction gave us more hope. We wanted to believe that torture did not work, that the spirit was not broken, that life goes on. To be powerless, as all survivors feel, means that the perpetrator has succeeded. To be empowered means that the perpetrator has failed. We understand that patriarchalism, in any society, stigmatizes women who are raped, but still wondered why the men seemed not to be ashamed, while most women would not even show their faces. Why did our very sympathetic blonde woman speak out now? Why not before?

A huge part of empowerment, as exemplified by the film, is to speak up. The film dives into the “culture of silence” that dominates post-conflict societies. A majority of the 20,000-50,000 survivors keep silent about the rape-induced trauma they endured. An expert in the film said, “Everybody knows what happened but nobody wants to talk about it.” We interpreted the film as an awareness campaign for this purpose. In the words of one of the survivors: “If all of us are silent, there is no truth anywhere.” The point is clear.

Psychologists, social workers, activists, judges, survivors and a number of other actors illuminate the reasons behind this tragedy, but you’ll have to watch the film to get the whole story. Our class noticed a dominant pattern: the presence of family support is the cornerstone of empowerment. Case after case, survivors said that it was possible to break out of their post-trauma paralysis because they were able to open up to those closest to them. That was the genesis of a long, painful process of rehabilitation. It was important to see that on film.

Everyone in the film agreed, whether a survivor or an activist, that an important part of the rehabilitation process is punishing the perpetrator. We understood how delicate the situation is. At best, survivors are hesitant to talk and at worst, they are traumatized to the point of erasing the incident from their memory all together. The survivors who testified had such considerate treatment that it seemed too good to be true. On the other hand, survivors who appeal for compensation have to go through such a convoluted process that it seems difficult for them to find any redress. The film answers some questions and opens others in this regard.

Repeating the words of survivors here does no justice to the enormity of their suffering. Watching their expressions writhe, hearing their voices quiver, witnessing empowerment first hand in this powerful documentary made us more aware of their experience as survivors of torture and of what needs to be done to help them.
Gabrielle Belli, Graduate Student in International Affairs, New York University

Gabrielle Belli


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