How has this issue continued to be an issue or changed over time?How has the issue been addressed?
How has this issue continued to be an issue or changed over time?How has the issue been addressed?
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How has this issue continued to be an issue or changed over time?How has the issue been addressed?
Transcribed Image Text:Excerpt from unanimously adopted Resolution by the United Nations General
Assembly, December 9, 1948
Document 2:
Article 1
The Contracting Parties confirm that genocide, whether committed in
time of peace or in time of war, is a crime under international law which
they undertake to prevent and to punish.
lace
Article 2
In the present Convention, genocide means any of the following acts
committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical,
racial or religious group, as such:
(a) Killing members of the group;
(b) Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the
group;
(c) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated
to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part;
(d) Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the
group;
(e) Forcibly transferring children of the group to anothergroup.
Source: United Nations General Assembly, December 9, 1948, Resolution 260 (III) A.
Transcribed Image Text:Document 3:
Debbie Wolfe writes about growing up as a white child
under apartheid
I was born in South Africa, under apartheid
year 1969, five years after Nelson Mandela was sentenced to life in prison.
-- a white child with every privilege. It was the
While my parents weren't wealthy, my dad was an engineer, and a graduate of the
University of Cape Town. We had a pretty little townhouse in the suburbs of Cape Town. I
had good food to eat. There were dolls to play with, and presents under the tree at
Christmas. I went to ballet lessons, and my lovely preschool down the road.
I had never heard the name 'Nelson Mandela'. I was too little to understand what was
happening in my country, or what apartheid meant. I got the faintest glimpse every couple
of weeks, when we rode the train into Cape Town to meet my father for lunch.
Those were the only days that I actually saw black children. But it was always from far
away, or through the window of a train. In the first six years of my life, I never got to speak
or play with a child whose skin was a different colour than mine.
On those train rides, my mother and I waited on a platform designated for 'whites' waiting
to board the train cars for 'whites'. There was a separate platform for blacks'. Once on the
train, we'd pass parks and beaches clearly marked 'white' and 'black'. In Cape Town, if we
needed to go to the bank, we'd approach a different counter than families with black
children.
Source: Debbie Wolf, I Grew Up In South Africa During Apartheid, Huffington Post, December 6,
2010
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