The weekend’s grisly revelations — of bodies of civilians strewn across the streets of Bucha (a Kyiv suburb), some with their hands tied behind their back, left to rot after Russian troops retreated from the town — have rightly shocked the conscience of people around the world. These grim discoveries have generated increasing attention to the specter of genocide underway in Ukraine. Is it fair to do so?
Genocide has a very specific (and, compared to crimes against humanity and war crimes, reasonably short) definition. It is the commission of any of a specific set of delineated acts (including murder, “causing serious bodily or mental harm,” and three others) “with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such.” In essence, that means genocide is when a perpetrator is trying to eliminate the existence of a group, and undertakes acts of violence against members of a group because they are members of that group.
Recent developments in Ukraine do not contradict this definition — but nor do they conform with it directly and on their own. Neither the carnage in the streets in Bucha nor the casualties at the schools and hospitals of Mariupol are in and of themselves acts of genocide.
To be sure, some of the rhetoric coming out of the Kremlin suggest that the term genocide could be appropriately applied to the situation. For example, Francis Scarr, a media monitor for BBC, recently reported on an editorial piece that ran on a state media outlet in Russia in which a commentator, Timofei Sergeitsev, declared:
“Ukraine, as history has shown, is unviable as a national state, and attempts to ‘build’ one logically lead to Nazism…The Banderite elite [a phrase for neo-Nazis in Ukraine] must be liquidated, its reeducation is impossible. The social ‘swamp’ which actively and passively supports it must undergo the hardships of war and digest the experience as a historical lesson and atonement.”
While “Banderite” suggests a political distinction, pro-war Russians have been using the term to apply to all Ukrainians who reject subjugation within a greater Russian imperial project. “Liquidation” implies intent to destroy by killings, and “hardships of war…as a historical lesson” fits squarely within the language of “causing serious bodily or mental harm.”
Perhaps the only thing keeping this statement from serving as prima facie evidence of genocide is that Sergeitsev presumably does not count as an architect of Russian policy; rather he plays the role of a mere cheerleader from the media sidelines.
To pin genocidal intent on the violence in Ukraine, one would need to find sources of such sentiment more closely affiliated with the Kremlin, perhaps from Putin himself. The point is though, that the intent standard embedded within the definition of genocide requires the collection of evidence that goes beyond the carnage itself. If the evidence does emerge, though, what would happen next?
A key purpose of the international Genocide Convention is that it provides tools for pursuing justice against those who have committed genocide. It also offers guidance, albeit minimal, for preventing the crime before it has been fully committed. The job of determining whether a genocide is underway or not is one for national governments and other concerned parties around the world, so that they can respond accordingly.
While it is clearly appropriate, therefore, for a public discussion about Russia’s intent and actions, it is less clear what is to happen should the determination be made that genocide is in progress.
The Convention itself only states that “competent organs of the United Nations [may] to take such action under the Charter of the United Nations as they consider appropriate for the prevention and suppression of acts of genocide.” The UN, particularly with Russia itself as a veto-wielding member of the Security Council, has little capacity to move quickly.
Outside of the United Nations’ institutions, there is no real road map for responding. It nonetheless becomes an important rhetorical tool that may — and undoubtedly should — lead to robust and coordinated actions to stop a genocide underway.
A final note is worth adding on the legal front, which is that while a genocide finding would be weighty, it is not the only matter at hand. There is a larger vocabulary of violence – “atrocities,” “war crimes,” “ethnic cleansing” and “crimes against humanity,” that bears consideration in the war in Ukraine, and each have undoubtedly occurred already in massacres in Bucha, the bombardment of Mariupol, and elsewhere.
Genocide may rightfully be considered the worst crime of all. Yet neither an appropriate response to the atrocities that have been committed in the course of the Russian war on Ukraine nor eventually accountability for the commission of those atrocities hinges on whether that is what Russia is attempting to get away with in Ukraine.
Simon is a senior lecturer in political science and director of the Genocide Studies Program at Yale.
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