Citation
Journal of Refugee Studies Vol. 9, No. 3 1996
Rwanda: Genocide and Beyond
FILIP REYNTJENS
Professor of Law and Politics. Universities of Antwerp* Leuven and Brussels
This article analyses five crucially relevant factors which may help to understand
the extreme violence which affected Rwanda from April to July 1994. Two factors
are shared with other African countries: the inherent destabilizing potential of
processes of political transition, and the control of the state as a stake for political
struggle. Three other factors are specifically Rwandan: the bipolar ethnic
situation, the combination of a strong state and a socially conformist population,
and the war waged by the RPF. The paper argues that violence has been political
rather than ethnic. Looking at the prospects, the author warns that the
ingredients for renewed violence are present and that the country is likely to
face a prolonged period of destabilization if no political solutions are found. As
this may well extend to the whole Great Lakes region, the international
community would once more become the helpless witness of a major
humanitarian drama.
Introduction
Two years ago, a small, poor and unknown country became international front
page news. Between April and July 1994, Rwanda was the scene of a horrible
genocide and of massive politically inspired massacres. Because of intense
media coverage, the world witnessed the events almost live and was shocked by
the scope and cruelty of the violence, which it had great difficulty in
understanding. Hundreds of thousands of people died in very personal and
technologically primitive killing: many of the killers knew their victims and
faced them directly, eye to eye. Most weapons used were machetes and clubs,
rather than firearms and grenades. Much less documented but not less true, the
rebel Rwanda Patriotic Front (RPF), which took power in July 1994, has
committed massive atrocities too and probably killed tens of thousands,
possibly hundreds of thousands, of unarmed civilians.
Many attempts have been made to understand this explosion. Some have
pointed to the steady deterioration of the economic situation and the growing
inequalities from the mid-eighties onwards (see e.g. Bezy 1990; Maton 1994;
Marysse, De Herdt and Ndayambaje 1994); others have insisted on the
untenable demographic pressure and the scarcity of land (see e.g. Vis, Goyens
and Brasseur 1994; Bonneux 1994; Willame 1995:109-131); yet others have
©Oxford University Press 1996
Rwanda: Genocide and Beyond 241
sought explanations in the frustrations inherent in a socially and culturally
oppressive rural environment (Willame 1995:132-156; also implicitly and well
before the facts Guichaoua 1989); finally, some have stressed the inherent
genocidal potential of the ideology developed after the Rwandan revolution of
1959-61 (e.g. African Rights 1994, 1995; Braeckman 1994). While all these
elements may have contributed to the events of 1994, this article aims to look at
the more immediate context which may help to explain the dramatic scope of
the violence. I shall argue that a very specific mix of factors has constituted its
breeding ground, that these factors were essentially political in nature, and that
it is the combination of all these elements which has been decisive in unleashing
the lethal forces at play in mid-1994. I shall conclude by showing that the
potential for renewed violence and destabilization is still very real and that a
new humanitarian drama is likely if no political solutions are found to this
ongoing crisis.
As 'revisionist' attempts are already underway to rewrite history and to deny
what has happened, a caveat is in order explaining does not equal condoning
or excusing. A genocide and large scale political massacres have taken place,
and this attempt at understanding should not be read as an excuse for the
perpetrators of these crimes. Indeed, I shall show that the violence has not been
fatal or unavoidable, but engineered and organized in the context of political
strategies.
The Explosive Mix
Of the five factors which have conditioned Rwanda towards violence, two are
shared with other African countries, while three are specific to Rwanda (and
also to Burundi, which bodes ill for Rwanda's southern neighbour). I shall first
discuss the factors which Rwanda had in common with the rest of Africa, and
then address the typically Rwandan factors.
The Democratization Process
Fuelled by the end of the Cold War and by new donor policies, the 'winds of
change' started to blow over Africa at the beginning of the 1990s. While
domestic actors had been demanding political change for some time, the
pohtical transition all over Africa has been externally induced to a considerable
degree. The international pressure shows, in that nearly all the countries of
Africa were affected by this transition over a short period of time. Of course
this is no coincidence: all those countries did not reach an internal political
stage conducive to 'democracy' at the same time. Not only has the
democratization process in essence been an international performance, it is
also quite artificial. The domestic partners have been the urban petty
bourgeoisie, while the rural population has hardly been affected by the
phenomenon; the relations of the latter with the state have been and are weak
anyway. In a survey conducted among Rwandan rural dwellers in 1991, less
242 Filip Reyntjens
than half the respondents expressed support for multiparty politics {Dialogue
1991). Moreover, international partners are interested mainly in external and
formal expressions of democracy, such as the plurality of parties, a free press
and free and fair elections.
The instability and violence accompanying political transitions is indeed a
universal phenomenon which has occurred at all times. Thus, the emergence of
the liberal-democratic state and of capitalism in Europe has been achieved
through thirty, seventy and hundred year wars; many thousands were killed
during the French Revolution and its aftermath; between the mid-18th century
and the mid-19th century the standard of living of most Europeans actually
fell. During this century alone, tens of millions of people have lost their lives in
two great European civil wars.
Similarly, the democratization process, which often involves the replacement
of one elite by another, has had a destabilizing effect all over Africa. In fact,
Huntingdon argues that 'major political changes almost always involve
violence' (Huntingdon 1991:192). Karl even goes further, stating that it is
'not trust and tolerance', but rather 'very uncivic behaviour, such as warfare
and internal social conflict', which sets democratization in motion (quoted by
Lemarchand 1992:101). Thus, violence is one of the many modes of political
action, and it has effectively been used to obtain or resist change in countries
ranging from Algeria and Togo via Zaire and Kenya to Zambia and South
Africa. In fact, no African country has been untouched by it, although the
scope and degree have differed. And of course, nowhere has it reached the level
witnessed in Rwanda.
The potential for violence as a means of political action is enhanced in Africa
by the stakes of the political struggle.
What is at Stake: the Control of the State
Already in the 1950s, Kwame Nkrumah said: 'Seek ye first the political
kingdom, and all things else shall be added unto you'. Indeed, the control of
the state as the stake of political struggle is much higher in Africa than, say, in
Europe or North America. The African state is the largest employer in the
country (in fact it often employs more people than all other employers
combined, at least in the formal sector), the most important gate to privileges
of all kinds (access to education, jobs, credit, legal or illegal tax exemptions,
impunity etc.), the most effective distributor of wealth and the most efficient
avenue of class formation. That is exactly what Bayart has in mind, when he
refers to the 'politics of the belly' (Bayart 1989). In political science jargon, the
state is the most important instrument of accumulation of wealth and
reproduction of a ruling class. In that sense as in many others, it differs from
the North Atlantic contemporary state.
Gearly the fight over the control of the state has played a major role in the
struggles that were eventually to become genocidal in Rwanda. In that sense,
the violence has been political rather than ethnic, as will be shown later. One of
Rwanda: Genocide and Beyond 243
the components of the death squads, which had been operating since late 1991,
is commonly referred to as the akazu (i.e. the little house), the political commercial network of President Habyarimana, or rather of his family-in-law1.
There is ample evidence of the involvement of the President's in-laws in
fraudulent traffic of several kinds, currency deals and the taking of
'commissions' in many fields (on this, see e.g. Gordon 1993). For this
political-military-mercantile network, the democratization process and the
redistribution of the cards as a result of the Arusha peace accord constituted a
vital threat to interests and activities of a mafia-like nature.
While these two elements, which Rwanda shares with other African
countries, have played a role, the extreme nature of the violence can be
explained only if a number of specific Rwandan variables are taken into
account. These are considered now.
The Bipolar Ethnic Situation
A word must first be said about ethnicity in Rwanda and the notion of ethnic
groups. Clearly Hutu, Tutsi and Twa do not correspond to the classic
anthropological definition of ethnic groups: they speak the same language,
share the same religion, live side by side all over the country, and intermarry;
all the 18 Rwandan clans are multi-ethnic, a sign of considerable mobility in
the past (d'Hertefelt 1971). However, while these are no ethnic groups in the
anthropological sense of the word, they form part of the identity of Rwandans.
Contrary to what has been claimed by some, these groups are no 'inventions' of
the colonial administration: they existed before colonial days, and as a result of
patrilinear transmission of identity, every Rwandan knew whether he or she
was Hutu, Tutsi or Twa. With reference to the Kinyaga region, Newbury has
shown that before the advent of colonial rule, the introduction of the Rwandan
precolonial state had begun to turn ethnic categories into a politically relevant
factor:
The introduction to Kinyaga of central Rwandan administrative structures
during the reign of Rwabugiri (c. 1860-1895) brought contact with political
institutions and social distinctions at a new level, and it was under these
conditions that current ethnic identifications became salient. With the arrival of
Rwabugiri and his chiefs, classification into the category of Hutu and Tuutsi
tended to become rigidified(Newbury 1988:11).
Of course, this does not imply that colonial rule has had no impact on these
identity categories; quite the contrary. A number of interventions by the
Belgian administration streamlined, reinforced and exacerbated ethnic belonging, and eventually turned the 'ethnic groups' into politically relevant
categories. Just one example must suffice to show this point. Functioning in
the context of the so-called 'Hamitic Hypothesis', which assumed that 'Nilotic'
or 'Hamitic' pastoralists possessed a number of qualities which made them fit
to rule (Sanders 1969:521-532), the Belgian administration, supported in this
244 Filip Reyntjens
by the Catholic Church, embarked on a 'tutsification' policy in the late 1920s.
While Hutu and even Twa traditionally held political, administrative and
judicial office, all functions were progressively monopolized in the hands of
Tutsi, even in areas where they had no historic legitimacy at all. By the mid19308 no Hutu held political office any more. This policy undoubtedly created
the feeling that Tutsi were rulers and Hutu were subjects, a situation which was
to prove untenable in the mid-1950s when democratization appeared on the
agenda, and the Hutu realized that, although being a demographic majority,
they were totally excluded from power. Many other interventions by the
colonial administration unwittingly2 destructured the system and injected a
potential for ethnic conflict. However, Darbon has rightly written that these
interventions are not the only reason for the social restructuring:
[Colonization] has been one element, and it has been crucial, but it could only
have the effect it had if there already existed effective or latent conflicts (Darbon
1982:34; author's translation).
We can now address the issue of bipolarity. Rwanda and Burundi are among
the few African countries with only two significant ethnic groups (the Twa
being too few in number and marginalized to play any political role). One (the
Hutu) is a large majority of 85-90 per cent, the other (the Tutsi) a minority of
10-15 per cent. Most other African countries contain several ethnic groups,
which prevents this bipolar opposition: no single ethnic group has a
demographic majority, a fact which encourages inter-ethnic alliances. The
bipolar situation provides a breeding-ground for the manipulation of ethnicity,
as the 'other', the 'enemy', is easy to identify. Although, as said, this is not the
case in most other African countries, regional examples in some of them show
that the potential for manipulation in bi-ethnic situations exists everywhere.
Thus, for instance, the 'original inhabitants of Shaba' in Zaire were mobilized
against the 'immigrant Baluba', who have been victimized and expelled from
the region in recent years. Closer to home, the 'bi-ethnic' situation in Belgium
and Northern Ireland has shown its potential for mobilization and conflict.
Again, it is argued later that conflict and violence in Rwanda have not been
ethnic but rather political; however, in this situation it is not difficult to
mobilize the population along ethnic lines, and that is exactly what has
happened.
As will be shown, the ethnic bipolarity has constantly increased since the
genocide, and the phenomenon of 'ethnic regression' has reached a level which
may well prove a major handicap in the search for peaceful solutions.
A Strong State and a Socially Conformist Population
Rwanda's experience of a strong state with an efficient administration goes
back to precolonial times (on precolonial Rwanda, see Vansina 1962, especially
at 57-73). This was reinforced during colonial rule and continued after
independence. The state is present everywhere and every Rwandan is
Rwanda: Genocide and Beyond
245
'administered'. The structure is pyramid-like and orders travel fast and well
from top to bottom. This combination of strong centralism and some
devolution of tasks of implementation has in fact been a powerful element in
the 'Rwandan model of development' lauded by many, particularly in the
1970s and 1980s.
Moreover, Rwandans do not dislike being taken care of by public
authorities. A long history of oppressive rule and distrust of everyone and
everything has made them reluctant to attract attention. Rwandans are
generally uninterested in emerging above the grey mass; they know that those
who do emerge risk having their heads chopped off, physically or socially. This
contributes to socially conformist behaviour: many Rwandans tend to do what
their neighbours do or what a person in authority tells them to do.
This culture of conformity is shared by most Rwandans, Hutu and Tutsi,
peasants and urban dwellers, at least those who are not in positions of
authority. It is thus not primarily related to ethnic belonging, and there is no
indication that ordinary Hutu were less 'conformist' under 'Hutu' rule than
before the 1959 Revolution; likewise, it is by no means certain that ordinary
Tutsi, survivors of the genocide, are more outspoken under the regime which
took power in 1994, except of course on the issue of punishing the guilty, which
is also official government policy.
This combination of strong administration and social conformism can be an
asset, but it can also be a liability: it can be a powerful tool at the service of
development, but it can also be used to conduct a highly efficient and
'decentralized' genocide.
The War Waged by the RPF
A final factor is the war which was launched by the RPF on 1 October, 1990.
This occurred at a moment of inherent instability as a result of democratization
processes, as we have seen earlier. In line with the 'winds of change' and after
the conference at La Baule, President Habyarimana announced on 5 July, 1990
that Rwanda was to embark on a process of 'democratization'. Indeed, a
'National Synthesis Commission on Political Reform' was put in place on 24
September, hardly a week before the invasion.
When attacking, the RPF justified the war by putting essentially two themes
on the table: on the one hand democracy, human rights and the rule of law, on
the other the right of the old Tutsi diaspora to return to Rwanda. However,
these two items already figured on the internal agenda, and were the object of
debate within Rwanda. Thus, a 'Special Commission for the Study of the
Problems of the Rwandan Emigres' had been at work since February 1989 and
published its first report in May 1990. A joint Ugandan-Rwandan ministerial
commission on Rwandanrefugeesin Uganda had been meeting since February
1989 and had actually arranged a visit to Rwanda by refugees, which was to
take place in early October 1990. As for the other theme, Rwanda was
embarking on a process which could have led to 'democratization' as in other
246 Filip Reyntjens
African countries. The convergence of progress in these two fields and the
timing of the RPF invasion is probably not a coincidence. Prunier rightly
notes:
The possibility of democratic progress threatened to rid the RPF of a solid
combat argument, that of the fight against a monolithic dictatorship. As for the
repatriation process, it threatened to break the most powerful psychological
support of its action, i.e. the fear of external exile (Prunier 1993:130; author's
translation).
In other words, the RPF had to attack when it did, because the legitimacy of a
war was bound to wither away if visible progress was made in the two areas it
claimed to put on the agenda.
The invasion not only contributed to the destabilization of the country, but
it also allowed for the manipulation of ethnicity and thus put the Tutsi
population in great jeopardy. History was there to warn: when Tutsi emigres
waged an attack which took them within 15 kms. of Kigali in December 1963,
over 10,000 Tutsi were killed in an orgy of violence, in Gikongoro in particular.
Although generalized anti-Tutsi violence was avoided in October 1990, several
hundreds were killed, particularly in Kibilira, and many thousands were
arrested during the early days of the war. Still, as the genocide showed later,
the risks the Tutsi were running were considerable. The RPF was fully aware of
this, as were those who attacked in the 1960s (Reyntjens 1985:468-469), but
they were willing to accept some sacrifices; the most radical among them felt
that the internal Tutsi were 'traitors' anyway 3 .
More generally, the war profoundly modified the political situation at a
crucial moment. The mobilization of ethnicity became much easier, as the RPF
was essentially a Tutsi movement seen as a mortal threat, which it was not hard
to present as an attempt to restore the pre-revolutionary 'feudo-monarchical
order. The war provided a pretext for manipulation, violence, destabilization
and political stalemate. It contributed to the fragmentation of the political
landscape and to the introduction of weapons and warriors difficult to control.
And finally, it progressively generated a culture of violence in which political
solutions became increasingly discredited.
Political Violence
The combination of the five factors outlined above, an explosive mix indeed,
explains how such violence out of all proportions has taken place in a country
which had seemed, until 1990, one of the most stable and peaceful in Africa.
Contrary to the way the events of April-July 1994 were presented by the
international media, which immediately adhered to the comfortable stereotype
of 'ethnic' or 'tribal' warfare, the violence was political, at least initially (it
became more complex in the later stages). Those killed on a massive scale were
'opponents', Hutu and Tutsi alike: politicians opposed to the presidential
majority and/or adhering to the Arusha peace accord, persons active in human
Rwanda: Genocide and Beyond
247
rights associations, leaders of civil society, journalists and generally the Tutsi,
as a whole considered allies of the RPF. In that sense, even the Tutsi have not
been the victims of ethnic violence, but of their perceived political sympathies4.
The media were so blinded by their ethnic reading of the situation that Reuters,
for instance, labelled one of the first prominent victims, Prime Minister Agathe
Uwilingiyimana, as Tutsi, although she was Hutu.
The elimination of the opposition which now started on a dramatic scale had
been attempted in smaller 'dress rehearsals' from late 1991: the violent events
of Bugesera in March 1992, of Kibuye in August 1992 and in the North-West
in December 1992-January 1993 and the actions of'death squads', denounced
since mid-1992, constituted attempts on the part of the radicals of the
Habyarimana regime to sabotage both the democratization process and the
implementation of the Arusha peace accord (on this, see Reyntjens 1994:
183-196). As stressed before, this violence aimed at the preservation of that
crucial stake which was the control of the state and the means of accumulation
of wealth it provides.
Therefore, the violence was not 'spontaneous', as was claimed by supporters
of the former regime, nor was it inevitable. Quite the contrary, it was highly
organized. The phenomenon of 'death squads' engineering violent confrontation came to be known and publicly denounced during 1992. In March 1992
the five Rwandan Human Rights associations published statements after the
Bugesera events, claiming that 'these massacres appear to be the result of a
strategy which aims at setting the country ablaze for unavowed political
objectives'. In a very concrete vein, Janvier Afrika, the director of Umurava
magazine, published an article describing in detail the way in which a group
close to the President was operating. He quoted over 25 members of these
death squads, including President Habyarimana himself, three of his brothersin-law and a son-in-law (Afrika 1992). I myself came to similar conclusions
after research conducted on the ground in September 1992 (Reyntjens 1992).
The most minute and convincing demonstration came from an international
NGO commission of inquiry, which conducted an investigation in early 1993.
It concluded that human rights violations had been massive and systematic,
'with the deliberate intent to target a particular ethnic group and political
opponents more generally'. Furthermore, 'the responsibility of the Head of
State and his immediate entourage, including his family, is gravely engaged',
which was a reference to the 'death squads' whose activities were mentioned on
several occasions (Federation internationale des droits de Phomme et al. 1993).
Although a great number of indications were thus available, no inquiry of a
judicial or police nature was conducted until early 1994. During January 1994,
the police force of the UN peacekeeping operation UNAMIR was tipped off by
an inside informant that a real extermination project was in place. He
mentioned arms caches, ammunition depots and training of military and
militiamen, logistical support from the army and the security forces, and the
organization of death squads in cells. After investigation, UNAMIR found
confirmation of these allegations: it appeared that for the city of Kigali alone,
248 Filip Reyntjens
there existed a network of about 30 cells, each numbering between 20 and 30
armed militiamen, ready to strike if the order was given. This was a well organized killing machine, able to kill one thousand persons per hour, within
one hour of the initial order. Convinced of the coherence and seriousness of the
information, the UN Force Commander General R. Dallaire warned the UN
and asked for permission to embark on an operation of search and
disarmament. The reply from New York was negative: such an operation
would be 'offensive' and thus inconsistent with the mandate. . . . When the
machine started to function on the morning of 7 April 1994, it was too late to
stop it
Beyond Genocide
The political violence engineered in Rwanda since the beginning of the
democratization process, and which eventually reached a genocidal scope and
nature, was made possible by a very specific and historically contingent
combination of factors. The Rwandan people, Hutu and Tutsi alike, were
taken hostage by extremist forces which could only emerge and prevail in this
particular conjuncture. In that sense, the entourage of President Habyarimana
and the RPF have been objective allies, making the emergence of a democratic
system respecting human rights impossible. The former used violence to retain
power, the latter used it to capture power. The Rwandan democrats were
caught in the middle and eventually disappeared as a relevant political force,
because they allowed themselves to be sucked into a bipolar political
dispensation.
All the five factors outlined in this article still exist today. Rwanda is still
experiencing a period of political transition, the control of the state is still at
stake, ethnic polarization is worse than ever in the past, social conformism and
the need to be 'administered' have not disappeared5, and the war is not over.
Therefore, the signs for the future are not encouraging.
Indeed, ingredients for further violence and prolonged destabilization are
present both within and outside Rwanda. Inside Rwanda there is a regime that
is heavily dominated by the RPF, whose social and political base is tiny. It has
turned out to be increasingly authoritarian and less than concerned with
human rights. According to more and more consistent allegations, the RPF
appears to have killed tens of thousands (some sources put the toll at hundreds
of thousands) of unarmed civilians, Hutu in particular, before, during and after
the resumption of the civil war in April 1994 (see e.g. Desouter and Reyntjens
1995; Smith 1996), in what some claim amounts to a 'second hidden genocide'.
In the meantime, the country is undergoing a rapid tutsification process. Apart
from the cabinet, which is the 'national unity' showpiece for international
consumption, power is concentrated in the hands of Tutsi RPF sympathisers:
16 out of the 18 permanent secretaries, four out of the six members of the
supreme court, over 80 per cent of the local mayors, the overwhelming majority
of the teaching staff and students at the University, the vast bulk of the army,
Rwanda: Genocide and Beyond 249
police and security services. . . . At the same time, most of the economic
infrastructure has been taken over by returnees of the old Tutsi diaspora. The
basis for this policy is the formal rejection of ethnicity, an essential element of the
hegemonic strategy of a Tutsi elite, just as in the 1950s in Rwanda and between
1965 and 1993 in Burundi. This state of affairs is justified in a paradoxical way:
when Hutu held the majority of positions in state institutions, this was called
'ethnic discrimination'; but when Tutsi hold the majority, this is called
'meritocracy1. This was expressed in a lucid way by representatives of the new
regime at a conference held in Arusha in September 1995, where they told their
baffled audience that 'quality prevails over quantity'. Back to the 'Hamitic
Hypothesis',rightly combated by the Tutsi... as long as they did not hold power.
This is of course a recipe for further disaster. Many Hutu who believed for a
while that the RPF meant business when promising to bring democracy and
respect for human rights have since defected and left the country, fearing for
their lives and deeply disappointed: human rights activists, members of the
judiciary, the governor of the national bank, army officers, the prime minister
and three other ministers (including one from the RPF), civil servants. . . . The
regime induces the international community to swallow major abuses, by its
exploitation of the 'genocide credit', which is, however, rapidly eroding.
Outside the country there are nearly two million refugees, most of them
Hutu, who do not dare return home, and who will not accept the prospect of
eternal exile. Among them are the former government army and militias who
have enjoyed different degrees of paramilitary training. In other words, the vast
majority of the Rwandan population, both inside and outside the country's
borders, is excluded from participation in power, thus undergoing profound
feelings of anger, fear and frustration. As said before, the genocide and the
phenomenon of 'tutsification' and its corollary, the exclusion of Hutu, have
exacerbated ethnic polarization even further, so much so that today most
Rwandans feel 'Tutsi' or 'Hutu' first and only in the second place 'Rwandan'.
The future for Rwanda, and indeed for the whole region, will be political or
military. However, the chances of a political settlement are slim, if only because
the RPF cannot or will not afford it, for both political and economic reasons.
Politically, the RPF knows that it would lose power in a competitive political
process. Economically, those who constitute the RPF"s base have taken over
most of the infrastructure (houses, land, businesses) abandoned by the new
refugees. Solutions that would involve restitution to the rightful owners will be
resisted by the present occupiers.
Yet it is clear to everyone thai war will resume if no political solution is
found. Even if the former government army and the militias would probably
not achieve an early victory, the country would be profoundly destabilized for
a prolonged period of time. Moreover, the resumption of the war would
probably be accompanied by major human rights violations: the Hutu inside
Rwanda would be considered allies of the invading force, a potential 'fifth
column', targeted for 'prophylactic' elimination, just as in 1994 the Tutsi were
considered allies of the RPF.
250 Filip Reyntjens
If this is allowed to occur, the whole region might well become the arena of
violence and war. First of all, it is likely that an attack would not only be
conducted from Zaire (and possibly Tanzania), but also through Burundian
territory, where Burundian Hutu guerilla movements are already active, in
particular in the North and North-West; this is precisely the area where an
invading force against Rwanda can open a front of 150 to 200 kms. Needless to
say, such an occurrence could be the final straw for Burundi, which is already
fragile enough as it is. Secondly, the Kivu region in Zaire would probably be
drawn into the conflict. Not only is that region, and North Kivu in particular,
an area of considerable tension between Banyarwanda (Hutu and Tutsi),
Hunde and Nyanga, but the RPF has moreover announced that it would take
the war into Zaire if Rwanda is attacked from there, while Uganda's President
Museveni has made it clear that he would not allow Rwanda to be invaded.
The fact that Mobutu and Museveni are regional opponents only increases the
risk of such an escalation.
If this scenario were to materialize—and it is less unlikely than many seem to
believe—the whole Great Lakes area would face a new round of extreme
violence. Twenty million people would then run an acute risk and the world
would be facing a humanitarian drama of unseen proportions. Such an
explosion would have continental consequences, as the heart of Africa,
between East and West and between North and South, could become an area
of prolonged destabilization and violence. This would not only tear the
continent apart, but could in the longer run contaminate adjoining areas,
extending like an oil slick in an uncontrollable chain of internal and crossborder wars. Today it may not be too late to seek political solutions for
Rwanda (and, for that matter, for Burundi). Tomorrow we shall helplessly
watch the images of supreme suffering on our television screens.
1. Indeed, President Habyarimana's lineage is small, both quantitatively and
qualitatively, while that of his wife Agathe Kanziga is much more influential. An
important element in the North, her family is part of an abakonde (land patrons)
lineage, whereas Habyarimana's is a recently immigrated lineage ofabagererwa (land
clients) (on this, see Reyntjens 1985:487-494).
2. I say 'unwittingly', because—contrary to what some have claimed—I do not believe
that this was the result of a policy of 'divide and rule'. When going through internal
papers and reports of that period, it is clear that the administration, which purported
to follow a policy of indirect rule, wanted to 'rationalize' the indigenous system and
did not realize the potential for conflict its measures entailed.
3. This has again become dear since the RPF seized power in July 1994. The rescapes,
those internal Tutsi who were spared during the genocide, have become second rank
citizens, suspected of having stayed alive because of their siding with the former
'Hutu' regime.
4. To avoid misunderstanding, I should make it clear that this observation has no
bearing on the qualification of the violence against Tutsi as 'genocide'. Indeed, the
Tutsi have been, as provided by the Genocide Convention, targeted for destruction
'as such', i.e. as a group.
Rwanda: Genocide and Beyond
251
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