In 2022, the Global Survivors Fund (GSF) and partners began scoping for opportunities for reparations in Cote D’Ivoire. In this blog, lead country consultant Joanna Rice explains our ensuing pilot project, and how community-based initiatives can pave a way for future reparation programmes.
The pilot – extended through 2025 – is carried out with our partner la Confédération des Organisations des Victimes des crises survenues en Côte d’Ivoire (COVICI).
In theory, establishing reparations in Côte D’Ivoire should be relatively simple. Since the end of a series of wars in 2011, the country has been at peace, with a range of transitional justice mechanisms created and lists of verified victims compiled, including an official estimate of 3,000 survivors of conflict-related sexual violence. This, however, never translated into consistently implemented formal reparation. Only a small minority of survivors have received any reparation, and this falls far short of their needs and expectations due to shortcomings in delivery.
The ingredients for reparative measures are also there. When I arrived in Abidjan for our Global Reparations Study in 2022, the extent of this became clear. Speaking to civil society actors, many can give you a long list of available programmes that, in theory, should make a positive difference to their lives. Survivors should have access to health benefits, free legal services, psychosocial and social welfare assistance, and a nationwide holistic referral system. Yet all I spoke with were still grappling with poverty, trauma, and health problems from the abuse they had suffered.
What exists on paper was often absent in reality or difficult for survivors to access, and often located in hard-to-reach areas. Some told me of week-long journeys to seek support offered through state services, only to return home empty-handed with all their savings spent. Others seeking access to basic support spoke of being shuffled from one building to another. With no clear road map or financial stability, battling this red tape becomes more than just a daunting prospect for survivors; it can be a non-starter.
The state and civil society services that exist can work and are generally staffed by dedicated professionals; but access requires knowledge and skills to navigate the system. With our partner COVICI, we decided to test this: What is actually available for survivors in practice? How can we connect them to these services and help them now, even in a small way, when reparation or interim reparative measures are a long-term goal, at best?
We’re not little girls, we’re mothers and we can take care of ourselves when we are given the means. We don’t want to be begging again and again for little things from the government.
— Survivor, Côte d’Ivoire
What works – and what doesn’t
Our pilot is not an interim reparative measures project, nor is it a substitute for one. Time and time again, survivors told us the same thing: we don’t want to wait for political will, or justice. It doesn’t matter where it comes from, make our lives liveable today. This was the inspiration for our service-matching approach, starting with 12 survivors1.
While our pilot may look different from other GSF projects, a survivor-centred approach at every stage is still central to our work. In Man, this is even more important with our minimal resources; survivors had to know the limits of what we could achieve, and share with us what they needed the most. One such need was ID cards, which we hadn’t initially considered, and opens the possibility for them to register for social welfare and a range of other state support.
This project has given a glimmer of hope to survivors of conflict-related sexual violence in Man. It has allowed them to develop their self-esteem and to rebuild themselves physically and socially.
— Justine Kpan Yao, COVICI project consultant in Man
Responding to the needs of each participant, we pair them up with services available in the local area, allowing them to obtain birth certificates, start therapy, and access state institutions. After the initial six months, the benefit was greater than I anticipated: survivors told us it was transformative for their emotional and social wellbeing. We have also connected the young-adult children of some to local internship programmes.
The pilot has also helped survivors organise amongst themselves. This is crucial for creating sustainable action. By bringing them together, survivors have started peer groups to support each other, and meet both with our partner organisation and independently.
Our approach has its limitations. Our impact, while beneficial for survivors, is limited – and it doesn’t solve the deeply-rooted problems that prevent them from receiving reparation. Our aspirations also require a much larger team – one social worker for 12 survivors is not enough.
We cannot achieve everything – but what we have accomplished proves that we can create change even at the smallest level, when the reality on the ground leaves full reparation unattainable. Our model provides a space where survivors’ daily needs can be better met – even if we can’t fulfil their ultimate goals. It shows a way forward that is sustainable and scalable for local authorities and governments. Our hope is that the bridges we build, creating access to services, will one day serve as a foundation that a full reparation programme can connect into, ensuring impacts that are more holistic and enduring for survivors.
Our pilot has now been extended for another year – and will also be replicated in the city of Abidjan. As we expand, I look forward to seeing what more change we can bring about with survivors.