Tawia Baidoe Ansah
In a brief article critical of the Kigali Genocide Memorial Center, Amy Sodaro cites to James E. Young, an expert on memorials, for the following proposition:
Once we assign monumental form to memory, we have to some degree divested ourselves of the obligation to remember. In shouldering the memory-work, monuments may relieve viewers of their memory burden.1
Sodaro then notes, ‘In Rwanda, this could be even more apt’. She goes on to describe the extent to which the Kigali Memorial ‘not only bear[s] the burden of memory of the genocide, it sets it aside as a distinct event with a beginning, middle, and end. This takes the urgency and connection out of what is happening in the region and shatters the connection between past and future’.2
In this chapter I review the genocide museum memorial in Kigali with the issues raised by Sodaro in mind. In particular, the question whether, or how, memorial ‘takes the connection and urgency out of what is happening now’, implicates the efficacy of monumental memorials to events such as genocide. Implicitly, the alternative to memorializing an event within a monumental form would be memorial work represented as porous and perspectival, its form – rather than its effects – more diffused and labile. The question then would be whether or to what extent such amorphous memorialization would engender the connection that is allegedly severed by monumental memorial, the implication being that the work of memory would be undertaken as a process rather than an end product, the ‘monument’. There are risks in either form of memorial: on the one hand, monumental memorial may be ‘assigned’ the burden of memory to the detriment of memory work, the denial of which may risk a resurgence of the violence that led to and characterized the traumatic events. On the other hand, a more nuanced or ambivalent rather than univocal/monumental memorializing effort may risk reliving the trauma and trapping one within an unremitting past. This chapter examines the Kigali museum memorial as an example of the monumental form of memorializing events such as genocide. I review how this memorial came to be, its particular narrative project, and how it navigates the risks inherent to the form. As both a cultural artifact and a political statement, I compare it to other artistic monumental memorials in different modes. Specifically, I’m interested in the ways that monumental memorial has the capacity to critique its own univocality. That is, despite the closed universe ostensibly projected, leading to the conclusions and critiques offered by Sodaro and Young, monumental memorials may nevertheless open up spaces for counter-memorial disruptions. In the case of the Kigali memorial, I posit that such a space is created or implied by the ‘open grave’ motif within the museum grounds, an artifact both integral to the whole exhibit – as it references aspects internal to the museum displays as well as the actual sites of massacre around the country – yet peripheral to it, as it sits outside the museum memorial proper and its construction of events. Part I describes the Kigali Center’s memorial, particularly the open gravesite on its grounds. Using literary and cultural examples, I reflect upon the open grave concept in relation to memorials. Part II considers the open grave concept in relation to monumental art, using the work of French classical painter Nicolas Poussin as an example. I conclude that the burden or the work of memory may inhere within the critical but dislocated, abstracted moments within what is represented as the official narrative, monumental artifact, or authoritative memorial to historical events.
1 YOUNG, JAMES E., 1993. The Texture of Memory: Holocaust Memorials and Meaning. New Haven: Yale University Press (citation omitted), in AMY SODARO, “Remembering for the Future? Genocide Remembrance at the Kigali Memorial Center,” available online at http://www.irmgard-coninx-stiftung.de/fileadmin/user_upload/pdf/Memory_Politics/Workshop_1/Sodaro_Essay.pdf, at 7.
2 SODARO, op. cit. 2, at 7-8.
The rise of risk-based regulatory capital: liquidity and solvency standards for financial intermediaries
In a capitalist economy, a private firm seeking finance must negotiate with prospective investors in the open market, which establishes standards about the terms on which debt and equity investment will be forthcoming. In addition to these market-financing standards, the capital structure of some financial firms—particularly broker-dealers, federally insured depository institutions, and insurance companies—must satisfy other requirements imposed by federal or state regulators to promote liquidity and solvency. Regulators take a heightened interest in these firms because they serve a public function in providing credit and other financial services. To grasp what regulatory capital rules try to accomplish, the reader must make a conceptual shift to see these financial firms as highly leveraged borrowers, contending with the demands of their own creditors. From this perspective, the financial stability of these firms becomes a matter of public concern. The first section explains regulatory capital as a corporate finance issue about how capital structure can protect creditors—especially unsecured ones – from unexpected financial losses. The rest of the chapter examines the major features of the regulatory capital regimes that apply to financial intermediaries. The second section starts with depository institutions, i.e., banks. These standards have become the locus of policy debates about risk-based capital. The third section discusses the regulatory capital rules that apply to broker-dealers registered with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (“SEC”).1 Broker-dealers have long been subject to net capital rules that promote the firm’s liquidity in order to promote orderly self-liquidation. More recently, large broker-dealers have been allowed to adopt a risk-based method—akin to that used in bank capital—for meeting their net capital requirements. The fourth section considers insurance companies, which adhere to risk-based capital standards imposed by state law. The fifth section warns that large, complex financial organizations may find themselves inadvertently subject to bank-style capital rules if deemed “systemically important” by the newly created Financial Stability Oversight Council (“FSOC”).
Manuel A. Gomez
Media depictions of Burning Man focus on the picturesque and eccentric appearance of the weeklong affair. The event is sometimes misportrayed as a lawless environment where participants are encouraged to engage in rowdy behavior. Most carnivalesque events offer an escape from reality and are generally thought to enable unruly conduct. Despite stereotypes, Burning Man is a different beast. Not only is the crime rate in Black Rock City lower than any other city of comparable size, but Burners show a high level of cooperative and law abiding behavior that helps maintain the social order without depending on official means of external social control. Looking at the interplay between the Black Rock Rangers, law enforcement agencies and participants themselves helps clarify how this works.
"Helping lost souls to find their way home": the Black Rock Rangers.
Ryan B. Stoa
With the current body of international water law limited to customary principles and nascent treaty instruments, the potential for major transboundary water resources conflict is high. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the Nile River Basin. At about 6,825 km long, the Nile is the longest river in the world, sustaining the livelihoods of more than 180 million people in 11 riparian countries. And yet, the Nile River continues to flow without a binding cooperative management treaty or agreement. While the Nile Basin Cooperative Framework Agreement (CFA) may soon come into force, it lacks the support and participation of two of the largest players in the region, downstream Egypt and Sudan. Meanwhile, basin countries’ interpretations of customary international water law highlight the inherent and predictable difficulties of reconciling the principles of equitable use and no significant harm. Considering the Nile River Basin’s critical importance to the economic development of basin states, the absence of a binding cooperative management agreement places the Nile River Basin at risk of conflict and continued mismanagement. This chapter analyzes the legal status of Nile River Basin water allocations through the lens of contemporary international water law, a developing body of law struggling to resolve transboundary disputes such as those found in the Nile River Basin.
Rogelio Pérez Perdomo
Capítulo 1. El estudio histórico-social de los juristas académicos: producción intelectual y papel político.
Capítulo 2. La independencia y la construcción inicial del estado (1800-1847).
Capítulo 3. Tiempos de disgregación y autoritarismo (1848-1958).
Capítulo 4. Institucionalización de la investigación y sus límites (1959-2012).
Capítulo 5. Conocimiento, política y revolución. - Apéndice: Mini biografías de los juristas académicos analizados.
M C. Mirow
The central square of St. Augustine, Florida, the Plaza de la Constitución, is not named for the United States Constitution. Instead, its name comes from Florida’s first constitution, the Spanish Constitution of Cádiz of 1812. Daily political life in Florida’s Spanish colonial cities was governed by this document, and cities like St. Augustine ordered their activities around the requirements, rights, and duties expressed in this constitution. The Constitution of Cádiz was the first truly transatlantic constitution because it applied to the entire Spanish empire, of which St. Augustine and Pensacola were just a part. It was drafted by representatives from around the empire who gathered in the southern Spanish city of Cádiz while Spain battled against Napoleonic forces.
Even before Florida became a territory of the United States, it was subject to a constitution that divided government into the three branches so familiar to us all: legislative, executive, and judicial. The Constitution of Cádiz has many modern aspects that have become important throughout the world. The constitution recognized national sovereignty, required elections at all levels of government, made the legislature the central authority in government, and set out rights for the criminally accused. Other parts of the constitution reveal a much older world. The constitution has a large section on the king and the royal family, and maintains the Roman Catholic Church as the state religion.
This constitution governed Spanish Florida from 1812 to 1815 and then again from 1820 until 1821, when Spain turned Florida over to the United States. Mirow explains the importance of this document to the Spanish colonial world and to Florida. He describes some of the most interesting features of the constitution and its promulgation in St. Augustine. A fresh and authoritative translation of the entire constitution in provided along with the constitution’s original text in Spanish.