Brief Theoretical Overview

Hochschild (Reference Hochschild1983) introduced the term “emotional labor” to describe employees’ efforts to manage their emotional states to generate certain feelings in others. Think, for instance, of a cheerful flight attendant or a bill collector who is brusque or rude. These jobs, and other jobs that call for emotional labor, generally entail: (1) face-to-face or voice-to-voice contact with the public, (2) requirements to produce an emotional state in another person, and (3) a degree of employer control over the emotional activities of workers.

In conceptualizing emotional labor, Hochschild emphasized the management of one’s own emotions, known as intrapersonal emotion management. Employees engage in intrapersonal emotion management to shape and direct their own feelings, including efforts to ensure that their emotions conform to the feeling norms associated with their positions.Footnote ² For instance, flight attendants may need to work to appear cheerful, just as bill collectors may need to work to be unpleasant. As such, they regularly employ specific intrapersonal emotion management strategies. These strategies may be cognitive, such as reinterpreting an event or situation; behavioral, such as controlling emotional displays; or physical, such as taking drugs to reduce arousal (Hochschild Reference Hochschild1983; Pugliesi Reference Pugliesi1999; Wharton Reference Wharton2009).

Social inequality, cultural expectations, and training (among other factors) shape the intrapersonal emotion management strategies that people employ. For example, racial and ethnic minorities promote counternarratives in predominantly white institutional spaces to protect themselves from denigration (Evans and Moore Reference Evans and Leo Moore2015; see also Wingfield Reference Wingfield2010). Similarly, women service sector employees assert control in their interactions with customers to counter ingrained cultural symbols of servitude (Paules Reference Paules1991). In one of many other examples, crisis-response workers rely heavily on formal training to remain calm under emotional duress (Mastracci, Guy, and Newman Reference Mastracci, Guy and Newman2014).

As emotional labor involves producing an emotional state in others, workers also engage in interpersonal emotional management to bring others’ emotions in line with feeling or display rules (Lively and Weed Reference Lively and Weed2014, 203). Early research on interpersonal emotion managementFootnote ³ concentrated on certain types of employees, such as counselors (Francis Reference Francis1997), though many positions involve the management of others’ emotions (Rafaeli and Sutton Reference Rafaeli and Sutton1991; Thoits Reference Thoits1996). During the Covid-19 pandemic, for example, retail workers engaged in exhausting interpersonal emotional management in enforcing safety guidelines (Loustaunau et al. Reference Loustaunau, Lina Stepick, Petrucci and Henifin2021).

Just as with intrapersonal emotion management, factors like gender (Lively Reference Lively2008) and organizational goals (Craciun Reference Craciun2018) also shape interpersonal emotion management techniques. For instance, Pierce (Reference Pierce1999) highlights gender-appropriate ways in which men and women paralegals catered to their bosses’ needs, illustrating that while both were expected to manage their anger, men were given considerably more leeway.

Extensive scholarship has documented the importance of such emotion management techniques across diverse service sector settings (Brotheridge and Grandey Reference Brotheridge and Grandey2002; Erickson and Ritter Reference Erickson and Ritter2001; Gimlin Reference Gimlin1996) and the professions, including law (Bandes and Blumenthal Reference Bandes and Blumenthal2012; Bergman Blix and Wettergren Reference Bergman Blix and Wettergren2016; Pierce Reference Pierce1995). Perhaps most notably, Roach Anleu and Mack (Reference Roach Anleu and Mack2005, 606) find that Australian magistrates’ intrapersonal and interpersonal emotion management involves (1) direct engagement with defendants’ unmediated emotions, (2) concern for the impression a person will take from the court, (3) management of their own emotion, and (4) management of the effects of emotional labor on themselves.

Others have likewise examined how judges in disparate contexts regulate their and others’ emotions. Maroney and Gross (Reference Maroney and Gross2014) illustrate how judges must manage their own emotions while meeting professional obligations; for instance, if a judge cannot change or ignore a case, they may alter how they think about it, hence utilizing a cognitive strategy. In therapeutic jurisprudence and problem-solving courts, judges often attempt to apply the law in ways that can “improve the psychological functioning and emotional well-being of those affected” (Winick and Wexler Reference Winick and Wexler2015, 479). In fact, judges frequently engage in managing their and others’ emotions simultaneously, such as by expressing patience “to calm a nervous witness” while keeping their own impatience in check (Bergman Blix and Wettergren Reference Bergman Blix and Wettergren2016, 34).

Taken together, this body of research establishes that emotional labor occurs across diverse positions, including the judiciary, and that individuals develop various strategies to manage their emotions, as well as the emotions of others. Further, these intrapersonal and interpersonal emotion management strategies are impacted by societal norms and structures as well as by organizational factors. In this article, we extend these findings to a new organizational realm: transitional justice courts.

Emotional Labor, Transitional Justice, and Rwanda’s Gacaca Courts

Emotions are social, as research has demonstrated across innumerable contexts, including that of transitional justice (Thoits Reference Thoits1996; Karstedt Reference Karstedt2016). Researchers have established the emotional impact of transitional justice endeavors (Brounéus Reference Brounéus2010; Cilliers, Dube, and Siddiqi Reference Cilliers, Dube and Siddiqi2016) and called for greater attention to emotion in these processes (Mendeloff Reference Mendeloff2009; Swain Reference Swain, Sköld and Swain2015). To date, however, few studies have systematically examined the emotional labor of frontline workers, officials, and decision makers in transitional justice mechanisms.

Much research in this vein has emphasized the emotional impacts of serving in justice-related roles. For instance, Hagan and Kay’s (Reference Hagan and Kay2011) study of legal professionals in the Office of the Prosecutor at the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia found that the shocking content of work at the tribunal led to depressive symptoms among women legal professionals (see also Hagan Reference Hagan2010; Nah Reference Nah2020). To a greater extent than in other court proceedings, emotional testimonies are often a cornerstone of transitional justice proceedings (Karstedt Reference Karstedt2016). Trials in post-atrocity settings typically include detailed survivor testimonies of brutal violence, frequently accompanied by extensive crying and emotional outrage. This places court actors, like translators and other staff, into close emotional proximity to the traumatic narratives they must interpret and absorb (Swain Reference Swain2011). Hayner (Reference Hayner2010, 159) accordingly warns of the secondary traumatization of statement takers, data entry staff, and journalists who may become “sponges of trauma” in absorbing such narratives.

Though judges across many courts are tasked with emotional duties, those serving in transitional justice settings engage in emotion work in a uniquely challenging situation. Hagan and Kay (Reference Hagan and Kay2011) consequently conclude that additional work is needed to understand the emotional lives of lawyers, as well as nonlawyers, working in human rights settings. Here, we take up this call and extend research on emotional tolls of legal service in human rights–related fields to emotional labor in such fields. As no scholarship has explicitly examined emotional labor among judges who serve in transitional justice courts, we bring together research on emotional labor (Hochschild Reference Hochschild1983; Thoits Reference Thoits1996), judges (Roach Anleu and Mack Reference Roach Anleu and Mack2005), and transitional justice (Cilliers, Dube, and Siddiqi Reference Cilliers, Dube and Siddiqi2016; Karstedt Reference Karstedt2016) to productively extend this literature. To do so, we examine the case of Rwanda’s post-genocide gacaca courts. Since extant literature has documented that occupational roles and broader social settings shape emotional labor (Lively and Weed Reference Lively and Weed2014), we briefly review the social setting in which gacaca trials took place, as well as the roles associated with serving as a judge.

Turning first to the social setting, the 1994 genocide in Rwanda targeted Rwanda’s TutsiFootnote ⁴ minority alongside Hutu moderates. The genocide occurred after decades of strife between Tutsi, who had dominated Rwanda’s precolonial and colonial monarchy despite making up no more than 15 percent of the population, and Hutu, who had served in positions of power since independence. An economic downtown and a civil war between a mostly-Tutsi army (known as the Rwandan Patriotic Army) and the Hutu-led government resulted in countrywide fear and mistrust during the early 1990s. Following the assassination of Rwanda’s Hutu president in 1994, political elites encouraged Hutu civilians to protect themselves and their families from Tutsi (Des Forges Reference Des Forges1999; Straus Reference Straus2006; McDoom Reference McDoom2021).

Hundreds of thousands of Hutu civilians committed violence against Tutsi, resulting in widespread death, displacement, and sexualized violence. The genocide ended after the Rwandan Patriotic Army took power, cementing the associated political party—the Rwandan Patriotic Front—as the new leaders of Rwanda. To try the many people accused of genocide,Footnote ⁵ this new government created courts known as gacaca courts (see Clark Reference Clark2010; Bornkamm Reference Bornkamm2012; Chakravarty Reference Chakravarty2015; Palmer Reference Palmer2015; Doughty Reference Doughty2016; Ingelaere Reference Ingelaere2016). The courts were loosely based on a precolonial dispute resolution mechanism and had five official goals: identifying the truth, increasing trial speed, fighting impunity, contributing to reconciliation, and demonstrating Rwanda’s problem-solving capacity (Clark Reference Clark2010). They also served to shore up the new government’s power and propagate its narrative of the violence (Chakravarty Reference Chakravarty2015). Indeed, critics have suggested that crimes committed by the Rwandan Patriotic Army in 1994 were not tried, mirroring issues with victor’s justice in many transitional justice contexts (Waldorf Reference Waldorf, Sullivan and Tifft2006).

Per the government’s instruction, every community elected panels of local judges to preside over these courts and, ultimately, to determine their neighbors’ fates.Footnote ⁶ These judges were called inyangamugayo, which translates to “person of integrity.” The position was unpaid, and no previous legal training or formal education was required. Rather, judges had to be Rwandan residents, at least twenty-one years old, and people of “good character” who had neither participated in the genocide nor spent more than six months incarcerated (see Bornkamm (Reference Bornkamm2012) and Ingelaere (Reference Ingelaere2016) for more on elections).

In total, over 250,000 individuals staffed approximately 12,000 courts. These individuals were Hutu and Tutsi, though there are not data regarding their identities beyond studies of courts in specific areas. While precolonial gacaca was only implemented by men, data from 2005 indicate that at least 34 percent of the judges were women (Final Gacaca Report 2012). This number likely rose as some judges stepped down amid allegations of genocide, thrusting many women into the public sphere at a time when such public positions were often held by men (Mukandori Reference Mukandori2014).Footnote ⁷

After accepting the position, the inyangamugayo underwent several weeks of training regarding the laws governing the courts, punishments, evidence, witness traumatization, and ethics, among other topics (Bornkamm Reference Bornkamm2012). As Doughty (Reference Doughty2016, 196) explains, they were inquisitorial judges, meaning they “played an active role conducting investigations and questioning, during and outside of trials, much as the prosecution, defense, or even police do in other legal systems.” Since there were rarely lawyers at the courts, the judges were responsible for gathering evidence, scheduling and presiding over trials of anyone whom neighbors accused, and determining guilt and punishments. For crimes against people (e.g., killing or joining a killing group), these punishments typically involved prison sentences with community service options for those who confessed or those who committed less serious crimes. For crimes against property, typical sentences involved fines that were meant to be paid (though were not always paid) to the victims’ families. While there were thus elements of restorative justice present in gacaca, retributive justice was core to the gacaca model (Waldorf Reference Waldorf, Sullivan and Tifft2006; Ingelaere Reference Ingelaere2016).

After three years of pilot trials and several more weeks of training, the courts opened in March 2005. Trials occurred weekly, and all community members were expected to attend. The courts closed in June 2012,Footnote ⁸ meaning that many judges worked for a decade.

The unpaid nature of this work clearly diverges from the employment and paid work context of much research on emotional labor. Nevertheless, there are compelling reasons to examine the experiences of the inyangamugayo through the lens of emotional labor and, specifically, emotion management. First, the judges engaged in intensive, formalized, and public work over a sustained period of time. In a setting in which most people are self-employed in agricultural pursuits around their homes, the inyangamugayo received formal training and worked regular hours at particular sites, often in full view of the community. Their tasks were also explicitly undertaken for the state, like many paid positions, and judges were continually reminded that they were working for their country. As they began their roles, for instance, the inyangamugayo swore an oath to Rwanda (Doughty Reference Doughty2016). Each time they worked, they donned sashes in the colors of the Rwandan flag, again symbolically connecting their positions to the state itself.

Furthermore, as Chakravarty (Reference Chakravarty2015) has poignantly argued, many of the inyangamugayo stepped into the unpaid position to advance their own careers, meaning that they were expecting a transactional outcome not unlike employment in other contexts. In fact, multiple inyangamugayo were motivated by the possibility of gaining visibility or leadership positions, suggesting that their reputations and future careers were at stake.Footnote ⁹ Recent research has indeed illustrated that some judges subsequently garnered positions, including positions as mediators or local leaders, as well as perceived social capital in the form of enhanced reputations (Nyseth Brehm et al. Reference Nyseth Brehm, Frizzell, Uggen and Gertz2021).

The inyangamugayo also differ from judges in other contexts in important ways, though many of these differences likewise highlight the significance of emotion management. With respect to their own emotions, inyangamugayo adjudicated extremely serious crimes and had the ability to levy heavy punishments (including life sentences), though they had very little training compared to judges in other contexts. The several weeks of training judges did receive emphasized that they needed to regulate their emotions and follow sentencing guidelines rather than allow themselves to be swayed by particularly emotional or shocking cases (Chakravarty Reference Chakravarty2015; Doughty Reference Doughty2016). As such, the inyangamugayo were told not to make decisions based on emotions, though they were given very few professional tools for handling such emotions and thus likely needed to develop intrapersonal emotion management strategies.

With respect to regulating the emotions of others, the inyangamugayo’s jobs were arguably uniquely complicated compared to judges in many other settings, as they lived in the same communities as defendants and witnesses (Chakravarty Reference Chakravarty2015; Ingelaere Reference Ingelaere2016). Accordingly, their training instructed judges to be impartial, which was broadly construed as not taking personal relationships into account with respect to rendering decisions and stepping down when a case was too personal (Doughty Reference Doughty2016). Training also instructed the judges to assist people with trauma and help resolve conflicts (Clark Reference Clark2010; Bornkamm Reference Bornkamm2012; Doughty Reference Doughty2016). In fact, the judges’ training emphasized keeping trial attendees calm, and one training unit even covered “group entertainment” (Final Gacaca Report 2012). As such, the inyangamugayo regulated the expression of emotion within the public domain as a form of service. Unlike judges in other contexts, however, the inyangamugayo did not benefit from “status shields” (Hochschild Reference Hochschild1983) that would have helped protect them from the displaced feelings of others attending trials that were often brimming with palpable emotion. Interpersonal emotion management strategies may have therefore been of paramount importance, and we consequently explore both intrapersonal and interpersonal emotion management techniques undertaken by Rwanda’s inyangamugayo.

The Need for Emotional Labor

Laurent, a fifty-three-year-old man, provided an emblematic description of “an exhausting day” in the life of a gacaca judge. In his words:

One of Laurent’s primary concerns was ensuring that everyone involved in a trial, including those providing testimony and fellow judges, left feeling content with their experience. In his view, this entailed providing witnesses the time and support needed to express their perspectives and ensuring that those perspectives were carefully considered by the judges. It also required actively listening to fellow inyangamugayo and giving due attention to their opinions. Beyond Laurent’s codified duties to listen to testimonies and render judgments, he believed he needed to facilitate a cathartic environment.

Laurent’s duties also illustrate two criteria of emotional labor: face-to-face contact with the public and producing an emotional state in other people (Hochschild Reference Hochschild1983). First, much of the inyangamugayo’s work involved presenting themselves to an audience, with little time for private reflection or space to express authentic emotion. Trials took place in public spaces such as classrooms or outdoor courtyards. Thus, for the majority of a gacaca workday, their every expression and gesture were on stark public display before an often-divided community deeply invested in court outcomes.

Second, producing an emotional state in other people was a fundamental requirement of the inyangamugayo’s job, as again, training had emphasized their role in aiding reconciliation and calming crowds. Just as Laurent saw it as his duty to ensure that all felt “content,” Esperance, a seventy-two-year-old woman who was targeted during the genocide, sought to raise victims’ spirits when they became distraught over sentences they perceived as overly lenient:

As Esperance illustrated, the inyangamugayo strove to honor grief and to nurture reconciliatory attitudes—at least reconciliation as defined by the state, as we address shortly. Attending to both emotional processes were vital aspects of their work. Mathias, a forty-six-year-old man, explained these imperatives sequentially, saying, “We could sit as judges and community members, and those killers could come and confess. They tell the stories of how they killed people, then family members could forgive them. The punishment was not heavy … because the objective was to reconcile Rwandans.” Mathias and other judges thus aimed to generate feelings that could facilitate peace.

The inyangamugayo’s work also embodied Hochschild’s (Reference Hochschild1983) third component of emotional labor—their emotions were controlled by a supervising entity: the Rwandan state. In creating the positions and coordinating training and supervision, the state exercised a degree of control over the judges’ emotions. And while inyangamugayo retained some discretion over court proceedings (Doughty Reference Doughty2016), they were bound by the laws the government created and were also required to submit all court records to the state, which again had a vested interest in the outcomes of the trials (Chakravarty Reference Chakravarty2015).

Ferdinand, a sixty-year-old man, explained that the state forbade judges from displaying emotion during court proceedings out of explicit concern that they might be accused of bias or amplify trauma. He told us, “It was not acceptable to show your emotions before the public or the participant because your emotions could affect others.” He continued, “As a judge, I could try to hide my emotions because we were trained that we will face problems because people will get trauma.” Many others used similar language, noting that they were not allowed to show emotions and citing their state-run training, which did indeed emphasize such themes.

In sum, the inyangamugayo spent much of their time performing emotional labor and, specifically, emotion management. Trained, supervised, and monitored by the state, they felt compelled to induce feelings of reconciliation—again, a goal of gacaca and an emphasis of their training—among court attendees while also managing their own emotions. Thus, although their positions were unpaid, the concept of emotional labor appropriately captures an essential dimension of the inyangamugayo’s duties. Next, we turn toward documenting some of their specific intrapersonal and interpersonal emotion management strategies.

Intrapersonal Emotion Management Strategies

The inyangamugayo we interviewed told us that they called on three main cognitive strategies to manage their own emotions. These involved suggesting that (1) they were personally unemotional by nature; (2) their training prepared them for the emotional nature of the position; and/or (3) it was their duty to bear the emotion for the good of the community.

Beginning with the first strategy, inyangamugayo of all genders and former ethnicities said that they did not react emotionally to traumatic situations, with some proposing that this quality was why they were elected to serve. For example, Marc, a fifty-year-old man who was targeted during the genocide, explained that it was natural for him to remain cool and unemotional. “Nothing like that could raise emotions,” he said, “That’s my nature, and it is so hard for me to show my emotions.” Josephine, a forty-six-year-old woman who was also targeted, agreed that nothing could “excite” her, as she put it, even when she was reminded of the murder of her own family:

Dorothee, a fifty-year-old woman, expressed parallel sentiments, emphasizing her impartiality, lack of sentimentality, and commitment to justice when listening to confessions:

Marc’s, Josephine’s, and Dorothee’s statements exemplify inyangamugayo’s claims that they could control their emotions. Their insistence also speaks to their continuing efforts to embody and perform the role of judge, and to exemplify the qualities that they believed led to their election. In other words, judges tried to bring their emotions in line with state and public expectations to remain calm and unemotional. Indeed, one of the core aspects of the judges’ training involved maintaining “integrity and impartiality, avoiding making decisions based on emotions or prior relationships” (Doughty Reference Doughty2016, 201). Telling themselves they were unemotional may have thus helped judges align their feelings with this job requirement.

Although this strategy was widely employed, nearly all men respondents insisted that they repressed emotion during the trials. Many women judges said that they, too, remained impartial, but men were most apt to deny any emotional influence. This likely reflects the expression of gender norms in Rwanda, where the masculine ideal encourages men to be a constant symbol of strength and protection (Burnet Reference Burnet2012; Hogg Reference Hogg2010). Mathias, a forty-six-year-old man, reported experiencing nightmares from the narratives of torture and slaughter. Nevertheless, he made clear that he “stood strong” at the trials:

Second, many inyangamugayo maintained that their training, typically only a few weeks in duration, sufficiently prepared them to hear stories of genocide. For example, Leonidas, a forty-six-year-old man who was targeted during the genocide, remarked, “we were given training to calm our emotions so that … we shall manage the situation, not become too emotional or sentimental.” Colette, a fifty-three-year-old woman who was also targeted, similarly noted, “We were trained so that we were not allowed to show emotion.” Martin, a fifty-three-year-old man, elaborated on how this training helped him manage his anger:

Similarly, Josee, a thirty-eight-year-old woman who was targeted during the genocide, explained, “by the fact that we had trainings on trauma, I could handle it, I could manage my emotions.” Like the notion that they were unemotional by nature, the training seemingly provided a cognitive mechanism to cope with emotional burdens, irrespective of its substantive content. As such, state organizational demands almost certainly shaped this strategy, perhaps due to the absence of status shields. To be clear, however, we emphasize how the judges told themselves they could handle the emotions invoked by the trials, rather than their actual ability to attend to their psychosocial well-being in the face of disturbing content.

Women were also more likely than men to invoke training during our interviews. This may reflect their anticipation of gendered public assumptions about their eligibility or capacity to serve as a judge. Many women respondents shared that they were initially hesitant to step into a role that had traditionally been held by men, as precolonial gacaca courts were only convened by men and as men were more likely to work as legal professionals (Clark Reference Clark2010; Mukandori Reference Mukandori2014). Women inyangamugayo may have consequently cited their training to manage others’ impressions of them as strong and capable.

Finally, a third major cognitive strategy involved bearing emotion for the community’s greater good, hence reframing a hard situation. For example, Innocent, a forty-seven-year-old man who was targeted during the genocide, explained that hearing testimony about graphic violence “was very difficult,” but “because of its importance, because it was useful to the Rwandan society, we committed ourselves and we did it.” Similarly, Grace, a fifty-six-year-old woman who was also targeted, stated “as days went on, [hearing] those stories, we had to stand firm and continue with gacaca to make sure that we give, we help in healing other people.” Both Innocent and Grace said they found strength in the importance and meaning of the task, mirroring the statements of many others.

This strategy was likely shaped by state-provided training and other state messaging, which emphasized how serving as a judge served the country by aiding reconciliation (Chakravarty Reference Chakravarty2015; Doughty Reference Doughty2016). While men and women judges relayed using this strategy, men were especially likely to reference a patriotic sense of duty, consistent with gendered expectations in Rwanda (Williamson Reference Williamson2016). For instance, Mathias expressed his sense of duty by noting, “We had to help our country get peace; we had to help our country unite Rwandans.”

Taken together, these three cognitive intrapersonal emotion management techniques—claiming an unemotional nature, drawing on formal training, and believing in a superseding mission to reconcile their communities—were pervasive in inyangamugayo’s accounts of managing their emotional states. These gendered strategies reflect, at least in part, state-driven narratives that many inyangamugayo internalized through their election and training, which they then embraced as a means to maintain emotional stability in the face of potentially debilitating emotional labor.

Interpersonal Emotion Management Strategies

As the judges managed their own emotions, their positions also entailed managing the emotions of others. Although intrapersonal emotion management appears to have been largely guided by organizational imperatives and gender norms, we find that interpersonal emotion management strategies were additionally guided by former ethnic identities. Because the genocide unfolded along ethnic lines, former ethnic boundaries were particularly rigid (Alba Reference Alba2005). In the aftermath of the violence, this boundary manifested when the judges attempted to manage the emotions of others during the trials. As gender also seems to have shaped this form of emotional labor, we address the interpersonal management strategies by gender and ethnicity.