preface and acknowledgments
of the many shocking things I heard during my fieldwork, the one I find most disturbing is the story of a man who was kept in a box by his torturers. His name is Luis Muoz. This was Chile in the 1970s, under Pinochet, and Luis was among thousands who suffered from the brutality of the generals Cold War regime. One day they opened the box just to tell him they had killed his wife, and then they shut it again. This haunting image remains in my mind as the very essence of human misery: alone, physically and emotionally broken, but alive. Most of all I found it unbearable to imagine what he must have felt in the darkness after the lid closed.
If one organization is synonymous with keeping hope alive, even as a faint glimmer in the darkness of a prison, it is Amnesty International. Amnesty has been the light, and that light was truthbearing witness to suffering hidden from the eyes of the world. Picture the Amnesty campaigner sitting in front of a television in 1997 watching videotaped testimony in Spanish of a Guatemalan peasant woman whose husband was taken in 1992 from their house by the police in a truck. He was beaten so badly during the journey that she could follow the trail of blood to the police station. They refused to release her husbands tortured body, demanding payment. Through a local human rights lawyer she found her way to Amnesty International and a researcher, sent out from London, who came to take her testimony. The volunteer watching this woman, five years later, found himself reaching out to the screen. I actually remember speaking to this woman and saying well try, well try to do something, he says. I felt I had to do something. I felt it was my problem.
In 1984, OBrien tormented Winston by trying to destroy this hope: Remember that it is forever. The face will always be there to be stamped upon. The heretic, the enemy of society, will always be there, so that he can be defeated and humiliated over again. Everything that you have undergone since you have been in our handsall that will continue, and worse. The espionage, the betrayals, the arrests, the tortures, the executions, the disappearances will never cease. It was precisely this heretic, this enemy of society, on whom Amnesty fixed: the prisoner of conscience. It is a potent and seductive ideal still. One early Mexican evening in August 2003, walking up the stone steps into a large meeting hall, I along with the gathered leaders of Amnesty was confronted by an ex-brigadier-general, Jose Gallardo, and his family, surrounded by 35,000 letters. These were the messages he had received in prison from Amnesty members. They spilled out across the floor, different sizes and colors, in loose piles and crammed into boxes, postmarked from all over the world. There were even Christmas cards. And in the middle of them all someone had placed a lighted white candle wrapped in barbed wire, flickering gently in the gathering gloom. Letter after letter expressed the same sentiment: you are not alone; dont give up hope. Here was an almost tangible kind of moral force. No wonder released prisoners talk with such wonder about receiving these letters. This scene seemed to contain an answer to the first question that had provoked me: Why should I join Amnesty? What follows will ask of you the same. In order to answer it, we have to understand what Amnesty is. It is not as straightforward as you might think.
Caught between sympathy and doubt, I wanted to know what human rights organizations were really like. I soon discovered a void existed where work on the culture of human rights ought to be found. A comparative study based on primary research was impossible. The foundational work does not exist. How could so many international relations scholars, institutional sociologists, political philosophers, and others talk so confidently about the meaning of human rights norms when so little was known about the social origins of those norms, how they assume the form they do, and what motivates those who make them their lifes work?
Acquiring the sociological depth necessary to see how morality takes concrete form meant a period of intense empirical study. It seemed best to do an analysis of one organization over time. In this respect, only one candidate would do and that was Amnesty International. From September 2002 to September 2003, I spent twelve months inside the International Secretariat (IS) of Amnesty in London. Although it is important to stress that, as we will see, the IS is not wholly representative of the 1.7 million members of the Amnesty movement, it is inside the IS that the second question motivating this studywhat is practical morality in action?has been puzzled through for forty-five years.
My research included more than 150 loosely structured interviews with present and former staff, observations at numerous meetings at all levels of the IS, and attendance at gatherings of the Amnesty memberships core governing body, its International Executive Committee (IEC), and its supreme policy-making forum, the biennial International Council Meeting (ICM). This observational and oral research was augmented by work in the IS archives, tracing features of the ISs and Amnestys organizational culture as they have evolved over many years.
This way of proceeding had various limitations. Most crucially, interviews were undertaken on the basis of anonymity, at all levels of the IS and Amnesty. I have tried wherever possible to use original material from these interviews. Using the words IS staff and Amnesty members use, including the hesitations, pauses, and changes of direction, gives a certain richness to the text, but these personal accounts are exemplary and not part of an exhaustive and fully representative sample, which would have been impossible to collect if it were to reflect contemporary diversity and historical change.
The interviewees were initially self-selected, responding to a posting on the staffs electronic bulletin board, IntSec Forum. After these, I sought interviewees out more directly by taking up suggestions about who had institutional knowledge, an interesting perspective, or an important historical or contemporary role. This group included staff from the research, campaigns, and resources parts of the IS, as well as members of long-standing, ex-senior staff and others no longer at the IS. The idea was to get at something of the quality of practice through the use of practitioners words. Some readers may find the lack of context about the speakers off-putting. I can only sympathize and say this was unavoidable; in most cases, the words are those of still-serving senior and junior IS staff, and taking care to protect their anonymity was my first consideration.
The vast amount of paper generated by Amnesty was a further limitation. Despite the efforts of archivists, most of this material is organized according to date and simply stored chronologically in paper form or on microfilm. Many documents, memos, and notes from the past do not have proper identification and are scattered through various files. There is no way to do a thematic search. If you want to know about Amnestys budgets over time, for example, you have to look at the financial part of quarterly IEC meetings year by year1964, 1965, 1966, and so onhoping to pick up the thread. Or you have to find later documents that summarize earlier material. In the end, I concentrated on the Secretary Generals Office and IEC files. You need to know in advance what you are looking for, in other words, heightening the role played by staff and members with institutional memory. This gives us a first inkling of how important evolutionary processes have been to Amnestys identity. Much material has been lost, misplaced, or buried in the filing cabinets of various individuals in the IS and the movement. Only the prisoner files, with their compromising contents, are securely locked away to avoid the unwanted attentions of states. Furthermore, the ISthe seat of Amnestys research work and organizationholds only movementwide material. The major sections, such as AIUK, AI Netherlands, and AIUSA, all have their own archives, papers that may tell the story differently given national experience and perspective. This diversity within the movement is matched by the great variety of subcultures within the IS. There were simply no regular meetings you might have gone to, or papers you might have read, or staff you might have spoken to that would have been representative of Amnesty and the IS as a whole. It is, as we will see, a remarkable mix of uniformity and autonomy, and contested internal authority has been its hallmark.