A Catholic Mass in Kigali: Contested Views of the Genocide and Ethnicity in Rwanda
Author(s): Catharine Newbury and David Newbury
Source: Canadian Journal of African Studies / Revue Canadienne des Études Africaines, Vol.
33, No. 2/3, Special Issue: French-Speaking Central Africa: Political Dynamics of Identities and
Representations (1999), pp. 292-328
Published by: Canadian Association of African Studies
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A Catholic Mass in Kigali: Contested Views
of the Genocide and Ethnicity in Rwanda
CatharineNewburyandDavid Newbury
Resume
Le 1 octobre 1994, un Hutu, le ministre de la Justice du gouvernement rwandais
domine par le FPR, a souhaite qu'une messe soit cgelbree pour commgmorerle
genocide qui a eu lieu six mois auparavant.Legouvernement a ignoresa suggestion
pour plut6t cgelbrer l'accession du FPR au pouvoir. Une initiative hutu pour
commgmorerl'extermination, dont les victimes etaient en majorite des Tutsi a ete
ignoreepar un gouvernement contr6olpar des Tutsi. Du point de vue des relations
inter ethniques, il se pose alors une importante question: gtait-ce le signe d'assouplissement des frontieresentre les ethnies; un Hutu prenant l'initiative de commemorer I'extermination dont surtout les Tutsi ont gte victimes! S'agit-il, au
contraire, d'un renforcement des frontieres ethniques, puisque un gouvernement
doming par des Tutsi a rejetg la proposition d'un Hutu? Cet article explore les
ambiguites de l'ethnicitg lors du genocide en situant les faits dans le contexte des
evenements qui l'ont precede - le contexte qui a lui meme mis en place les cadres
ayant servi a definir l'ethnicitd. C'est un lieu commun de dire que sur le plan
abstraitl'ethnicitg est definie dans le contexte. Legenocide, prgsentgparles medias
comme "conflit ethnique" ou "guerretribale," etait le cas classique d'une telle
dlaboration contextuelle de l'ethnicitg. L'articleanalyse les facteurs instrumentaux de ce processus.
Introduction
On 1 October 1994, shortly after the end of the genocide in Rwanda, the
new government in Kigali declared a public holiday and organized general
festivities. But as with many festivities, the occasion held contested meanings which were tied to divergent views of history.
The celebrations were intended to commemorate the fourth anniversary of the attack on Rwanda by the Rwandan Patriotic Front, which the
RPF saw as the initial phase in their eventual victory in the war and their
This article is based on a paperoriginally presented to a conference on the roots of
violence in Central Africa,held in Brussels in January1995. A revised version was
completed for the Canadian Journal of African Studies in December 1997.
Therefore,the article does not account formaterialon the Rwandagenocide that has
appearedsince then.
292
Newbury & Newbury: A Catholic Mass in Kigali
293
accession to power. Given that the new government based its legitimacy
on the claim that it had halted the genocide, it is significant that the referent date was October 1990, not April 1994, the start of the genocide. In
short, this celebration was designed to commemorate the culmination of a
long power struggle, not the closure of the more immediate genocide.
But the Minister of Justice in the RPFgovernment at the time did not
attend the festivities on 1 October.Alphonse-MarieNkubito was a human
rights advocate who had formerly served as Procureur General (State
Prosecutor) in the Habyarimana regime. In the early 1990s, he had
denounced the abuses of the government and refused to prosecute several
thousand citizens, mostly Tutsi, who had been arbitrarilyarrestedin 1990,
following the attack that initiated the October war. Through the combination of actions of Rwandans like Nkubito and international pressure
from donorgovernments, the incarceratedwere eventually freed;however,
for his courage, Nkubito was rusticated to a minor post in southern
Rwanda.
After the genocide, having been named Minister of Justice in a new
government in Kigali, Nkubito remainedcommitted as ever to the human
rights issues of the day.1But just as four years earlierhe had acted to curb
the excesses of the Habyarimanagovernment, in late 1994, he dissented
from the triumphalist celebration of the new powerholders. In his view,
what had happenedin Rwandaduringthe previous six months was not an
occasion for celebration and gloating: too many people had died. Formost
people in Rwanda, it was a time of mourning. Instead of celebrations, he
organizeda public Catholic mass to honor the memory of those who had
perished. Although very few attended the mass, it was eloquent in its
simple symbolism, as a telling statement that spoke to the sharedlosses of
many parties. However, its neglect by the government spoke to the challenges of addressinga people's past.
The genocide and war in Rwanda have left in their wake a fractured
and severely polarized society, one in which different, contested histories
complicate what was already a complex political landscape. In this
context, ethnicity has become a catch-all explanation for those who wish
to neglect recent political economy or social processes within Rwanda.
Furthermore,the concept of "genocide"is tied in the general literatureso
strongly to the concept of "ethnic struggle"that the Rwandangenocide of
1994 is simply assumed to be ethnic in its origins, as well as in its effects.
But such an assumption, convergingwith persistent outside perceptionsof
"tribalwarfare"in Africa,obscures ratherthan illuminates both the nature
of genocide and the characterof ethnicity in Rwanda. Consequently, it is
important to problematize the role and meaning of ethnicity and ethnic
identities. While this has been done before, it is also neglected by some
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CJAS / RCEA33:2 & 3 I999
analysts for whom "genocide" is the starting point for understanding
Rwanda.
We argue that ethnicity is best understood neither as an enduring,
unchanging element to social formations nor as an instantaneous, recent
invention. Instead we see it as an identity contextually configured, one
which can be understoodonly through close familiarity with the history of
social relations and political power. We seek to explore how the view of
ethnicity as a protean, contextually driven feature of society has direct
application to understandingRwanda, since the debate over the nature of
ethnicity lies at the core of political preoccupations in Rwanda today. If
ethnicity is an invention, then it can be abolished and ignored; if it is
primordial,then it is unchanging and extraneous to policy concerns;if it is
contextually defined, then it is the responsibility of the political actors
both to recognize it and to attentuate its salience as a political force.
Instead, avoiding reference to ethnicity has allowed participants to avoid
addressing directly the nature of ethnicity in Rwandan social process.
Ironically,this approachhas allowed popularstereotypes to thrive and has
contributed to a policy which implicates individuals on corporateethnic
grounds, such that the worst excesses of members of one group are
extended to all members of that group, on both sides: in such portrayals,
dependingon what "side" one is on, all Hutu become "genocidaires"and
all Tutsi ruthless power-seekers.
Behind such events lurks a further question, relating these issues to
our understanding of the models, assumptions, and approaches of the
social sciences. Can we design universal models of contextually defined
phenomenona, and can we legitimately apply such models to concrete
circumstances with positive effect? We argue that while such models are
essential, they are not sufficient. They are essential to inform our understanding of social process; they are not, however, a substitute for understanding that social process on the ground. So we seek to raise the issue of
how our understandingof ethnicity in Rwanda relates to our understanding of social science approaches(or lay approaches)that ignore or misunderstandthe historical context that producedgenocide.
Genocide and Ethnicity
We know now, and many observers of Rwandaknew from early on in the
conflict, that the massacres that began early in the morning of 7 April 1994
had been carefully planned; this was not a spontaneous, irrational "eruption."2The goal was to liquidate opponents to the hard-linefactions of the
regime in power: those Hutu seen as opposed to the Habyarimanagovernment, as well as all Tutsi, assumed to be supporters of the Rwandan
Patriotic Front.The killings were organizedand directedby a small group
Newbury & Newbury: A Catholic Mass in Kigali
295
of people bent on keeping power - referredto in Rwanda as the Akazu,
"the little house." In addition to the normal chain of command through
the army,police, administration, and militias, this cabal used radiobroadcasts to emit hate messages, directing Rwandans to kill fellow citizens
(Chretienet al. 1995;Mironko and Cook 1995).To be sure, the death of the
president and the ensuing violence led to a resumption of the war,initiated
in October of 1990, between the RwandanPatriotic Frontand the army of
the Rwandan government. There were many casualties from this armed
conflict between conventional armies, as those who would deny the genocide frequently point out. But the vast majority of people who died during
April-June1994 were civilians, killed not as a result of combat, but because
of a state-sponsored policy of extermination (Reyntjens 1994; African
Rights 1995; Longman 1995).3
Though the genocide was planned and directed by a small group of
leaders, many people participated.They did so out of a variety of impulses,
including fear, greed, and the propensity in this hierarchical society to
follow administrative directives. Ethnic fear was one important element
played on by the organizers, a fear that was promoted and intensified by
extremist propagandists and certain government officials (Lemarchand
1995; Des Forges 1995a; Vidal 1995). However, despite the official propaganda, this cannot easily be reduced to a simple conflict of "Hutu"versus
"Tutsi." In fact, the first victims were political opponents of the
Habyarimanaregime;many were Hutu. Furthermore,significant numbers
of Hutu resisted the genocide, often by hiding and protecting those at risk
(Jefremovas1995; Mujawamariya1995).In addition, Rwandansociety was
much more complex than such a bipolar vision would imply: there was
significant interaction among individuals and families of different social
categories, at all levels, including "intermarriage."4
To be sure, there had been atrocities carried out before - notably in
1959, 1964, and 1973. But as with the genocide, these were each situated
in a particular political context - not in an ongoing continuous ethnic
pogrom.Indeed,ethnicity has been called on as a mobilizing factorin these
political struggles. But instead of assuming from that the pervasive character of ethnic antagonism, we need to inquire into what it was that people
feared (both the perpetratorsand those who followed their directives),and
why extremist appeals found a receptive audience, in particularcontexts,
if we are to understand the roots to these conflicts - and especially to
understandthe genocide in Rwandain 1994. In particular,we need to take
account of the underlyingsocial, economic, andpolitical conditions which
interacted to create a volatile situation.
By attempting to clarify these processes, of course, this paper in no
way intends to excuse or justify the horrific slaughter of 1994;explanation
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is not rationalization. Moreover, it is important to keep in mind that the
genocide was not inevitable - not for personality, "tribal," or demographic reasons. Instead, the genocide was the result of a calculated,
conscious, and planned action on the part of a political elite who feared
losing their positions of privilege, used the machinery of the state, and
were willing to go to any lengths in their effort to hold on to power
(Reyntjens 1994; Reyntjens 1995; Prunier 1995; Joint Evaluation of
EmergencyAssistance to Rwanda 1996;Ntampaka 1997).Consequently,it
is the politics of genocide (andof its legacy) which needs to be understood;
the broadereconomic, demographic,and cultural context were important,
but not deterministic, in this process.
Antecedents to Genocide
The precipitatingfactors of the genocide relatedto the conjuncturalevents
of the 1990s, a time when Rwanda'sstate and society were in severe crisis.
Three dimensions to political process were at issue: the nature of the postcolonial state and the changing configuration of regional, class, and ethnic
divisions in Rwanda;the growing militarization of state and society in the
country as the Habyarimanaregime respondedto military attacks by the
Rwandan Patriotic Front; and the effects of a process of political liberalization and multipartyism which failed to addressthe concerns of ordinary
citizens. Moreover,these political transformationsoccurredin a context of
sharply deterioratingeconomic conditions. Regional factors were important as well: the Arusha Peace Accordsof 1993 served to heighten anxieties
further,while events in neighboringBurundiincreased fears and insecurities among many in Rwanda.But these were not discrete factors;each operated in a climate created by the intersection of multiple pressures,which
were experienced differently in their kaleidoscopic combination for different classes, genders, generations, and individuals.
THE NATURE OF THE POSTCOLONIALSTATE
The structure of state power changed dramaticallywith the revolution of
1959-61. In this process, a new group came into power, a group which
when faced with critical economic, demographic, and diplomatic challenges - sought increasingly to justify their legitimacy as ethnic representatives. But this trajectory was a slow process; it took thirty years to
work out. To be sure, ethnicity was an ongoing feature of Rwandanpolitics, but it became politically meaningful as a result of leaders' responses
to crisis, not as the cause of crisis.
The revolution of 1959-61 was clearly a political struggle against the
oppression of a "dual colonialism" formed of Belgian colonial power and
Tutsi delegates of the central court.5 Structuralantagonisms were brought
Newbury & Newbury: A Catholic Mass in Kigali
297
to a head in July 1959 when Rwanda's king, Mutara Rudahigwa, died
suddenly in Bujumbura.The mysterious conditions surroundinghis death
and the uncertainties of royal succession polarized the politics of the day,
at a time of growing political tensions associated with decolonization. The
young man who succeeded Rudahigwato the throne, one of his half-brothers, lacked political experience and was viewed by Hutu leaders as fully in
the hands of conservative elements at the court. The succession was seen
as a clear attempt to perpetuate an oppressive monarchial rule which had
been consolidated under colonial power. Thus, in November 1959, Hutu
activists viewed the Tutsi youth attack on one of the few Hutu authorities
in the country as a direct confrontation: a peasant "jacquerie"was needed
to wrest power from an entrenched oligarchy.
The object was to drive from power those seen as oppressors.Credible
estimates vary from less than one hundred to several hundred deaths, but
thousands of Rwandans (mostly Tutsi) were forced to flee the country the
country as refugees. Significantly, those who sought refuge in churches
were respected - a practice violated repeatedly in 1994, when churches
became slaughterhouses, not places of refuge.6
The revolution of 1959-61 drew on the frustrations of a politics of
exclusion under the monarchy but failed to set in its place a politics of
inclusion. Instead, a dynamic of distrust and mutual fear fueled political
volatility: many Tutsi powerholdersfearedthey would lose power to Hutu
in upcoming electoral contests, while Hutu leaders feared they would be
liquidated by Tutsi intent on keeping power. In these conditions, any
"middle ground" sought by some political parties - a politics which
would redress colonial class differences, promote collaboration across
ethnic lines, and combat authoritarianism and inequality - was swept
aside. The erosion of the middle ground was one of the most telling legacies of Rwanda's decolonization period, a legacy whose ramifications
became fully apparentin early 1994 and which seems to have continued to
haunt Rwandanpolitics since.
To many Hutu in Rwanda, the revolution of 1959 was an important
watershed because it marked the end of domination of the state by an
exclusive Tutsi elite. But in breaking the hegemony of the monarchy, the
revolution ushered in a period of new forms of exclusivism - dominated
by a group which based its legitimacy on Hutu ethnicity. Consequently,
over the years,partisansfrom both sides have called on history to claim the
rightness of their cause. Hutu militants have cited a past history of oppression and exploitation under a Tutsi-dominated monarchy;Tutsi militants
have pointed to the waves of refugees driven from the country, as well as
to discrimination against Tutsi in Rwandan politics since the 1960s (C.
Newbury 1998).
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CJAS / RCEA33:2 & 3 I999
During the early years of the First Republic, political consolidation
along ethnic lines continued, as small bands of Tutsi refugees made
guerilla attacks on Rwanda from neighboring countries. These raids were
meant to destabilize the new government under Gregoire Kayibanda;
however, they were unsuccessful. But the real victims of these raids were
internal Tutsi, those still living in the country; following an incursion in
December 1963 that almost succeeded in reaching Kigali, the government
in Kigalicondoned (or encouraged)the massacre of several thousand innocent civilians - Tutsi - who had had no part in the raids. In contrast to
the targetted attacks of the 1959-61 revolution, the attacks on Tutsi in
January1964 resulted in the deaths of thousands of innocent civilians an estimated ten thousand to fourteen thousand people were killed
(Lemarchand1970).7
This violence followed much more closely the model of "ethnic"
killings, but they did not simply represent a spontaneous outpouring of
ethnic hatred. Instead, they were specifically political acts, triggeredby
several incursions from the outside (one reaching to the outskirts of the
capital itself). In response, the government treatedinnocent Tutsi civilians
within the country as "hostages"to the external attacks - a pattern to be
seen later both in Burundiin 1972 (where a Tutsi-dominatedgovernment
targettedHutu members of the society) and in Rwandaafter October 1990.
From the mid-1960s, the external attacks tapered off, and pogroms
againstinternal Tutsi ceased for a time. Meanwhile, the Kayibandagovernment became increasingly exclusivist, not just in ethnic terms favoring
Hutu, but in regional terms as well, by allocating key political positions to
people from the center of the country, Kayibanda'shome region.The ruling
single party, MDR-Parmehutu, came to dominate political space. This
regional favoritism was critical, for it mobilized the north - a region
which had always actively, and largely successfully, resisted the "Tutsi"
rule of the central court; their opposition to Tutsi rule became their ideology of opposition to central power, even while the regionalfavoritism was
the catalyst for their anger. Consequently, their major grievance against
the regime of Kayibandawas expressed as a critique that Kayibandawas
soft on Tutsi. So while regional exclusivism was the cause of such anger,
ethnic exclusivism became the language of opposition and the ideology of
political confrontation.
In 1972-73, tensions in Rwanda again increased, exacerbatedby the
"selective genocide" in Burundi, Rwanda's southern neighbor, where, in
1972, the mostly Tutsi army had slaughtered scores of thousands of Hutu
(Lemarchandand Martin 1973; Lemarchand 1994b, chapter 5). Within
Rwanda, however, these tensions were associated with the paralysis of
Kayibanda'sregime and need to be seen in the context of an internal
Newbury & Newbury: A Catholic Mass in Kigali
299
realignment of power. Reacting to three emerging insecurities - general
economic trends, the Burundigenocide, and regional competition within
Rwanda - "Committees of Public Safety" posted lists of "blacklisted"
people; Tutsi in schools, salaried employment, and some businesses in
Rwanda felt threatened. While the effort to stir up antagonism against
Tutsi was spearheadedby elements angryat Kayibandafor not doing more
to promote Hutu representation in educational establishments and
salaried jobs, it also occurredat a time of heightened tension in the wake
of an influx of refugees fleeing the genocide directed against Hutu by
Burundi'sTutsi-dominatedarmy and government.
In a coup d'etat on 5 July 1973, military leaders from the north
replaceda government whose political base was in the center and south of
Rwanda. Here, as elsewhere, ethnicity became a pretext and rationalization for venting frustrations against the regime - over school access and
employment - and a tool in struggles over power. But the issues related
more to economic insecurity than to blind ethnic hatred;examining the
role of the state and political struggle provides a much more satisfactory
explanation of these conflicts than does a blanket assertion of ongoing
tribal warfare.
The social upheaval in Rwandaduring 1972-73 laid the foundationfor
the coup d'etat that broughtJuvenalHabyarimanato power in 1973 (which
some saw as a preemptive coup to thwart more radical elements still); he
established a military government, but one with substantial civilian
participation (Reyntjens 1985, 473-517). Nonetheless, his support was
from the army and from the most radical northern areas;Habyarimana's
regime furthercentralized political institutions and consolidatedpower in
the security forces, the presidential office, and the single party (MRND).
Over the next twenty years, the continued concentration of such power
would eventually allow a small groupto wrest control of the levers of state
power from the broadergovernment personnel. And over that time as well,
the Habyarimana regime progressively limited Tutsi access to state
schools and government jobs througha quota system, but it also attempted
to dampen ethnic strife by promoting "development." In the 1980s,
Habyarimanaadoptedincreasingly harsh measures against political opponents, including, most notably, many imprisoned leaders from the First
Republic;the late 1980s saw a rash of political assassinations, often in the
guise of car accidents. The targets of these murders- almost exclusively
Hutu - were usually people seen as too critical of the regime; the courageous editor of Kinyamateka (a widely readweekly newspaperwritten in
Kinyarwanda)and an outspoken, popular female member of Parliament
were among the victims. Yet the main axis of conflict was based on region
and class, and for the most part these were conflicts between diverseHutu
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CJAS/ RCEA33:2 & 3 I999
factions - again a reminder of the internal heterogeneity within these
broad "ethnic" categories. It was only after the attack of the RPF at the
beginning of October 1990 that the Habyarimanaregime made particular
targets of Tutsi within the country.
Of course, the manipulation of ethnicity is not unusual: it was a
notable characteristic of colonial and postcolonial politics in many areas
of Africa and elsewhere. But within the structures of economic deterioration so widespread among postcolonial African societies, losing power
entailed heavy costs; to retain control, therefore,those in power may go to
extreme lengths to undermine their opponents. Often, leaders have tried
to play on ethnic differentiation, setting ethnic categories - identities
often created or redefined under structures of colonial power - against
each other. This approachbecame a central feature of the Habyarimana
regime after 1990. The Rwandan state and government were under stress,
to be sure. However, intensification of ethnic divisions and the genocide of
1994 did not result from a "collapsed state," as some superficial analyses
aver.8Rather,the attacks against political opponents and Tutsi (definedby
hardlinersin the regime as "enemies" because of a supposedaffinity to the
RPF) resulted from state power in action - not from the absence or
collapse of state power.
THE SOCIAL CONSEQUENCESOF ECONOMIC DECLINE
During the first decade of his rule, Habyarimanacould point to important
achievements of his government in several sectors: in the development of
infrastructure(roadsin particular),in the expansion of schools and health
centers, in reforestation programs,and in attempts to promote increased
agriculturalproduction. But by the mid-1980s, the economy was facing
serious difficulties; these were exacerbatedby official corruptionand rentseeking on the part of the political class. The government found it necessary to introduce austerity measures, while the gap between rich and poor
widened markedly (Bezy 1990; Guichaoua 1989; Rumiya 1985; Willame
1995, chapter 5).
The vagaries of the commodity markets also took their toll on
Rwandan peasant producers. The world price of coffee, Rwanda's main
export, had slumped in the mid- 1980s and showed worrisome price fluctations towardsthe end of the decade;in the summer of 1989, the coffee price
plummeted to about fifty percent of earlierprice levels. The repercussions
for rural dwellers were severe. Indeed, the effects of the economic crash
were aggravatedby a serious famine which wracked the south and southwest areas of the country in the fall of 1989 (the first such famine since
1943);with the simultaneous decline in food production and coffee prices,
people were unable to buy food to supplement low agriculturalyields.
Newbury & Newbury: A Catholic Mass in Kigali
30I
In November 1990, the economic crisis deepened, as Rwandadevalued
its currency as part of a stabilization program mandated by the
International Monetary Fund; Rwanda was one of the last African countries to have a StructuralAdjustment Programimposed on it - testimony
to the formersuccess of its economic management. But devaluation meant
that internal prices increased dramatically, even for non-imported items;
the cost of fuel for trucks and other vehicles shot up, and this affected trade
and raised the price of food products and other merchandise. An increase
in transportcosts also meant that coffee producers (mostly smallholders)
received less for their product. At the same time, with the dramatic drop
in world coffee prices, the government reduced the statutory minimum
price paid to smallholder producersfor coffee, even while transportcosts
rose and inflation translated into higher prices for other goods. Rwandan
peasants were caught in a harsh commodity trap, exacerbated by an
economic strategybased on regionalspecialization and privatization of the
food trade.However, in economic crisis that policy backfiredfor the peasants, as transport costs rose and private traders sought to maintain their
profit ratios (C. Newbury 1992, 193-219; Marysse, de Herdt and
Ndayambaje 1994; de Lame 1996).9
Declining income for ruralproducershad a multiplier effect, as traders
and merchants dependedon peasant coffee earningsfor much of their sales.
Furthermore,a disease affecting coffee trees had already reduced yields in
some areas of the country, heightening rural resentment against the rules
governing coffee production. Because of the overwhelming importance of
coffee exports for government revenues, it had always been illegal for farmers to cut down coffee trees. Yet with declining returns on coffee beans,
peasants preferredto use the land for food production;they could sell food
on the market for greater return than coffee provided. During the early
1990s, rural dwellers uprooted an estimated 300 000 coffee trees, thus
furtherreducingcoffee production and government revenues. The October
war that began in 1990 (describedbelow) created an additional economic
burden on the government, even as the economic reform package
prescribedby the IMFand the WorldBank served to deepen poverty in the
rural areas and intensify insecurity. Government-sponsoredprogramsfor
increased "cost-sharing"required that citizens pay markedly higher fees
for public services such as primaryschool education, health care, and even
access to water; meanwhile, local government levies on the population
increased as well.
All these factors contributedsignificantly to social tensions and fear.10
But most important for later political developments, the harsh IMF
measures exacerbated the already difficult conditions of youth. In some
areas,population densities exceeded four hundred people per squarekilo-
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CJAS / RCEA33:2 & 3 I999
meter - over one thousand per square mile, in a country heavily dependent on agriculture.In many parts of the country, the averagefamily had
scarcelyhalf a hectare of land, while increasingamounts of land were being
taken over by the wealthy. Youths faced a situation where many (perhaps
most) had no land, no jobs, little education, and no hope for the future. It
was increasingly difficult for young men to acquirethe wherewithal to get
married;hence, the path to social adulthood was blocked since the minimum legal requirement for marriagewas that a young man have a house
where he and his bridecould live. We know from studies elsewhere what a
dangerouscondition such social circumstances can create (Brenner,forthcoming)."1
Research carried out in western Rwanda and elsewhere shows the
extent of class polarizationand ruralresentment at the local level (deLame
1995, 1996; Andre and Platteau 1998).12The conclusion is unmistakable;
it is clear that grindingpoverty and growing class divisions were an important factor in the violence. In sum, Rwanda of the late 1980s and early
1990s was characterizedby growing regional differentiation in political
access, social polarization between rich and poor, and a strong awareness
of increasing marginalizationamong urbanpoor and the majority of rural
dwellers.
THE OCTOBERWAR
The Habyarimanagovernment had long recognized the problem of demographicpressures on land in Rwanda, where more than ninety percent of
the population depended on agriculture for their livelihood. In fact, the
governmenthad exploredsettlement schemes elsewhere and had seriously
proposed programs which would have resettled Rwandans not only to
neighboringcountries like Zaire and Tanzania, but even to places as far
away as Gabon - despite its differences from Rwanda in ecological and
epidemiological environments. Claiming that there was insufficient land
for the population in the country, Habyarimana took the position that
Rwandacould not accommodate large numbers of additional people, and
on those grounds the government refused to allow the repatriation of
refugees, often the children of Tutsi who had fled the country in past
episodes of violence.13 In the late 1980s, this position softened, and
Habyarimanabegan to adopt a more conciliatory position. However, in
retrospectit is clear that the failure of Habyarimana'sgovernment to move
more quickly and forcefully towards resolution of the refugeeproblemwas
a serious mistake. It also raises serious issues for the enormous numbers of
refugeesin eastern and central Africa, from the Sudanto Mozambiqueand
Angola.14
By the early 1990s, an estimated 400 000 to 600 000 Rwandanrefugees
Newbury & Newbury: A Catholic Mass in Kigali
303
resided in countries neighboringRwanda.15Although a proportionof that
number includes the descendants of people who had fled Rwanda during
the colonial periodor who had been excluded by colonial boundaries,many
of these "Rwandansabroad"were treatedas second class citizens, as if they
were all refugees. In 1982, these pressures reached a peak in Ugandawhen
thousands of Rwandans were expelled by the second Obote government.
Many fled to northeastern Rwanda,where they were crowded into refugee
camps for up to three years. The Rwandangovernment refusedto acknowledge the right of these people to live in the country, and eventually most
were sent back to Uganda.There, many supportedthe National Resistance
Movement led by Yoweri Museveni; significant numbers joined the
National Resistance Army which eventually overthrew the second Obote
regime.
Some Rwandanrefugeeswere well placed in the new Ugandanadministration, and this, in part, accounts for tense relations between Rwanda
and Uganda at the time. The Rwandan Patriotic Front - formed of
Rwandanexiles seeking both a return to Rwanda and an overthrow of the
Habyarimanaregime - was composed of two distinct segments: those in
high political positions within the newly- established Ugandan government, and those who had been excluded by Ugandan society. But in the
eyes of many Ugandans, these two categories overlapped; it became
common to ask why Rwandanrefugeesappearedto receive assistance from
outside when the Ugandanpopulation struggledto work its way out of the
poverty of the Amin and Obote years, and why, at the same time, so many
"foreigners"occupied influential positions in their government. In short,
by the late 1980s, the Rwandan refugee community, formerly an asset to
the National Resistance Movement of Uganda, had became a political
liability (Prunier1993; Pirouet 1988, 239-54; Clay 1984; "Uganda,"1989;
Watson 1991).16
Thus, the RPFattack of 1990 can be seen as having resulted from the
convergenceof multiple interests. Many refugees (both elite and non-elite,
though for quite different reasons) may have felt that this provided an
escape from the burden of discrimination they felt in Uganda at several
levels. At the same time, Museveni may have found it expedient to divest
his government of an increasing liability within the Ugandan political
arena.The timing of the invasion, however, may also have been affectedby
initiatives within Rwanda, as the Habyarimana regime moved - very
cautiously - towards a more open political system and a new position on
refugeeissues (Prunier1993; Reyntjens 1994, 180-81, 200-01).17Both policies - the move to "political liberalization" (discussed below) and the
move to address the "refugeeproblem"18- threatened to undercut RPF
claims to moral superiority. So the RPFattack on 1 October 1990 appears
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as an attempt to preempttwo issues on which the Rwandagovernment had
indicateda willingness to act; by attacking when they did, the RPFseemed
intent on maintaining the moral "high ground."
Whateverthe motives behind the timing of the attack, the RPFincursions of October and the war which resulted had very important repercussions within Rwanda.The extremist (andexclusionist) factions within the
government, including elements in the military, seized on the invasion to
promote two goals: to argue for a significant expansion of the security
forces, and to brandall Tutsi as internal supportersof the RPF.Ethnicity
thus became a pretext for the militarization of the regime, the consolidation of the hardliners within the government, and the projection of the
external war into the internal political area. To achieve these ends, it
became important to present this conflict as a confrontation of two firmly
defined ethnic groups - each homogeneous within, and utterly distinct
from the other.
In this version, the conflict was not just a war, but an ethnic war. Tutsi
living inside Rwanda were indiscriminately categorized as potential
accomplices of the RPFand as, therefore, "suspect." The military took on
a more central role in politics, and the size of the army grew from about
five thousand to more than forty thousand, although many of the new
recruits were poorly trained and poorly disciplined. Within this context,
the proliferationof arms became a critical factor,both at the national level
(by building up the army), and at the local level (by arming the general
population and the militias). By the end of 1993, for example, grenades
were easily available in Rwanda'sopen air markets for the equivalent of a
few dollarsapiece (Human Rights Watch/Africa 1994a).
Following the attack of October 1990, Habyarimanapursued a twotrackpolicy. On the one hand, respondingto pressurefrom western donors,
he made concessions to an active internal pro-democracymovement as
part of his policy of "political liberalization." But, simultaneously,
Habyarimanapermitted (orpursued)a policy of internal repressionas part
of the war strategy,and he allowed (orencouraged)a proliferationof human
rights abuses. So the pattern characteristic of earlier political crises reappeared,whereby hardlinersprovoked ethnic tensions and made scapegoats
of Tutsi living in the country (Chretien 1985; Vidal 1985, 167-84).
In police raidsshortly after the RPFattack in October 1990, thousands
of people were arrested(most of them Tutsi) on chargesof complicity with
the RPF;most of the charges were specious. (As mentioned above, these
were the people eventually liberated through the actions of Alphonse
Nkubito, the ProcureurG6neral. He refused to fabricate charges against
these people, despite enormous pressures on him in this wartime atmosphere;it was equivalent to an Attorney General of the US in WorldWarII
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305
refusing to accede to the incarceration of Japanesecitizens.) In addition,
from 1990 to 1993 an estimated two thousand Tutsi were killed in
massacres and murdersin several regions of the country. Outspoken critics of the regime and human rights advocates were also targetted, regardless of ethnic background (including some Europeans in mission
communities, several of whom were killed).
It is important to note that these were not simply rogue incidents of
populist militance; an international commission of inquiry that visited
Rwandain January1993 found evidence that these attacks were carriedout
by death squads directed by the security services tied to the office of the
President. The commission also reportedincidents of human rights abuse
by the RPFarmy in areas of the north, but less information was available
on RPFabuses than on the systematic activities of death squads related to
the Habyarimanaregime (Rapportde la Commission Internationale 1993;
Africa Watch 1992, 1994; Association Rwandaise pour la Defense 1992;
Reyntjens 1994). Information from missionary accounts also indicated
that hundreds of civilians had been killed by the RPA in the north during
the war. Some were killed by stray bullets, but others died from direct
attacks on civilians; in some cases, there were attacks on camps of
displacedpersons.19
It became clear that the resources needed to alleviate increasingly
desperate economic difficulties in Rwanda were going instead to the
purchaseof weapons and to other expenses of the war effort. Fearand insecurity intensified, as generalized hardship, hunger, and everyday violence
became increasingly common experiences for ordinary citizens. The gap
between government and citizen, as well as the one among classes,
widened perceptively from the late 1980s; the populace was not unaware
of these changing circumstances.
DEMOCRATIZATIONGONE AWRY
In the midst of war and growing economic austerity, Rwanda was also
making gradual- and hesitant - steps toward political liberalization. In
July 1990, Habyarimana announced several (relatively timid) political
changes and broachedthe possibility of multiparty politics. He appointed
a National Synthesis Commission in Septemberto consider modifications
to the single-partypolitical structures.A new constitution was draftedand
adopted by the National Council for Development (the National
Assembly) in June 1991, and multiparty competition was legalized from
Julyof that year.In 1992, Habyarimanawas pressuredby opposition parties
and donor governments to include major opposition parties within the
cabinet; the Prime Minister - a new position - was to be from an opposition party as well.
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Meanwhile, as opposition parties attempted to mobilize followings,
newspapersproliferatedand many political and professional organizations
were formed. But this apparent resurgence of civil society was fragile.
Linkagesbetween political parties and other organizationsin civil society
were weak (Longman1994, 61-69; Newbury and Newbury 1995),and town
residents showed greaterinterest in the new political parties than did rural
dwellers - perhaps because among the new parties there was no strong
and committed voice to representpeasant concerns: most platforms were
concerned with civil liberties, "development" (from the top down), and
multiparty politics (Newbury and Newbury 1995).
But most rural dwellers - over ninety percent of the population were eagerto see improvements in the daily difficulties they faced in their
lives; the indications are that a significant proportion of rural dwellers
doubted that elections would address such issues. To them, multiparty
competition appearedmainly to be simply a changing of the guardin the
capital. As one rural resident explained in the 1990s, commenting on the
political reforms:
These changes have nothing to do with our poverty. Things are changing for the rich and intellectuals who want to occupy power. But, for
me, power will be the same (Longman 1997; see also ttudiants de
Kabgayi1991).
Wideningsplits and changingcoalitions among leaders, as well as the spectacle of intense infighting over positions in a future transitional government, did little to reassurethe ruralcitizenry. Commenting on the failure
of the political class, a former Minister in the }abyarimana government,
JamesGasana,has noted:
The population saw that, although recast, the political class
remained basically unchanged, preoccupied with its own problems
ratherthan those of all Rwandans.Impoverished,and alarmedby the
increase in political violence, the general population perceived that
[the political class] was doing nothing to combat rural poverty, or to
addressthe problems of the ... ruralsector (1995a, 186).20
Nonetheless, despite their apparentinability - or unwillingness - to
addressinternal economic problems, these opposition parties did affect the
government'sdiplomatic stance. Negotiations to end the war were shaped
significantly by internal calls on Habyarimana to accept power sharing
with the RPF. External pressures from Tanzania, the Organization of
AfricanUnity, and donor countries such as the US - as well as the negotiating skills of the RPF- were also important factorspushing the government towards a political resolution. Finally, the Arusha Peace Accords
ending the war between the RPFand the Rwandanarmy were signed on 4
August 1993. These accords, along with other protocols agreedto during
Newbury & Newbury: A Catholic Mass in Kigali
307
the previous year's negotiations, constituted the blueprint for a powersharingarrangementamong the former single party (MRND),the internal
opposition parties, and the RPF.But they were also the majorfactor in the
growing schism within the government itself.
THE ARUSHA PEACEACCORDS AND EVENTS IN BURUNDI
According to the Arusha Accords, a UN peacekeeping force was to be
installed in the country, while a broadbasedtransitional government and a
transitional parliament were to be put in place within thirty-seven days
afterthe peace agreementwas signed. A second phase - to preparefor elections - was to last for twenty-two months after the installation of the
transitional government. The Arusha Accords allocated ministerial posts
in the cabinet and seats in the National Assembly to the RPF and to the
various internal political parties; occupants of these seats were to be
selected in each case by the parties they represented. Furthermore,the
Arusha Accords stipulated that the transitional government was to
appoint several special commissions: one was to preparea national conference to promote public debate on unity and national reconciliation;
another was to draft a new constitution; and the third would preparefor,
and organize, elections (Reyntjens 1994, 250-51, 253-54).
The UN peacekeeping force arrived in Rwanda only in November
1993, two months behind schedule. This accounted for the first delays in
setting up the new transitional government and parliament. Subsequently,
manipulations by Habyarimanaand his entourage accounted for further
delays; in addition, several of the major opposition parties were unable to
agreeon a slate of representativesto occupy seats in the national assembly.
Also at issue was whether the extremist CDR party (LaCoalition pour la
Defense de la Republique) would be allowed participation in the transitional national assembly. Since their vote could be essential to any parliamentary vote of confidence, CDR participation was critical to
Habyarimana;but because they were seen as closely allied to the regime in
power, CDR participation was anathema to other parties. Events in
Burundi,to be discussed below, deepened these fissures in Rwanda'spolitical parties and were exploited by Habyarimanaand the MRND (Reyntjens
1993, 1994, 261-302; Lemarchand 1994b). Five months after the agreed
timetable, there still was no transitional parliament in place. On 6 April,
the night his plane was shot down, Habyarimana was returning from a
meeting in Tanzania, accompanied by the President of Burundi, Cyprien
Ntaryamira;on his arrivalin Kigali, he was expected finally to inaugurate
the new parliament.
Thus, the process of "democratization"was flawed at its core since it
did not addressthe isssues important to the vast majority of the Rwandan
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CJAS / RCEA33:2 & 3 1999
population. But it was also affected by the war and negotiations with the
RPF,and the delay proved fatal for it gave opponents of the new political
structuresthe opportunity,and the pretext, to sabotage any such "democratization"initiatives. As Filip Reyntjens (1994, 254, 258-59) has pointed
out, the slow pace of democratizationprovidedtoo much leeway for opportunistic jockeying for power, while creating the dangerof increasedpolitical violence.21And through all this, no one addressedthe conditions of the
ruralcitizenry, who felt increasingly disenfranchised;within this formal
"democratization"process, the gapbetween the government and the population only widened, a gap to be exploited by the political radicals in the
months to come.
In this context, three aspects of the ArushaAccordscontributedsignificantly to polarization of political tensions within Rwanda.First, hardliners in the government insisted that Habyarimanahad given up too much
to the RPF.According to the Arusha Accords, the RPF were to hold five
ministries out of twenty, including the important Ministry of the Interior,
and eleven of seventy seats in Parliament.
Second,and perhapsmore importantly,provisions on mergingthe two
armies stipulated that, in the new army, elements of the RPA (The
RwandanPatriotic Army) would fill fifty percent of the officer corps and
forty percent of the rank-and-file positions - in an integrated army of
about twenty thousand. But the RPA included about fifteen thousand
soldiers, while the FAR (the Rwandan army) included about forty thousand. Therefore,the effects of this protocol would fall most heavily on the
Rwandan army; more than two-thirds of the Rwandan government
soldiers faced demobilization, and few had any income alternatives. In the
internal political maneuvering to follow, the hardlinerswere able to draw
on the deep insecurities among the military in implementing their strategy to undermine the Arusha Acccords.
Thus, opposition from within the miltary set serious constraints on
government action and presented a serious threat to the stability of the
regime;already,in 1992, there had been mutiny attempts in the Rwandan
armybecause of concerns over demobilization. Although lump sum severance payments to demobilized soldiers were specified in the Arusha
Accords, it was unclear where funds would come from to finance these
payments. Furthermore,most of those recently recruited to fight the war
were poorly trained and lacked resources;many came from the north, the
areaof greatestland deprivation,and they had nowhere to turn. Inadequate
provision for demobilization and the lack of any effective policy for integratingformer soldiers into civilian society (with jobs and some means of
subsistence) must be seen as a critical shortcoming of the Arusha Accords
(Reyntjens1994, 253, 255-56).
Newbury & Newbury: A Catholic Mass in Kigali
309
A third aspect of the peace agreement also heightened tensions: the
stipulation that all refugees had a right to return. This was, of course, a
powerful issue - it was one of the key concerns that the RPFwas fighting
for, and it became an integralpartof the peace agreement.It was also a class
issue for it raised the concern of land security for all Rwandanpeasants.
Yet, here again - as with virtually all class issues - too little was done to
allay real fears and anxieties among the population as to the impact of this
policy. Who would be defined as refugees? How would the returning
refugees be accommodated?What mechanisms would be set up by which
they would be allowed to reclaim land they (or their parents or other relatives) had lost when they fled twenty or thirty years before?Would these
mechanisms include discussion of land expropriated by central court
authorities during colonial rule or before? According to the peace agreement, no one who had been gone ten years or more could reclaim property,
but few rural dwellers knew of this stipulation, and of those who did, few
believed it would be respected. Given the severe land shortages in most
regions of the country, anxieties over land rights were a serious concern to
ruraldwellers. Here, also, the economic crisis only exacerbatedsuch fears
and concerns.22
Meanwhile, the government was split on this issue. It proposed no
policy to allay the fears of many, thus providing the opportunity for the
hardliners in the regime to spread misinformation and to aggravatethe
anxieties of the peasants. In a quiet but effective campaign,the opponents
to the proposedpower sharingagreements- some within the government,
some within the newly-formed parties - tried to undercut supportfor the
Arusha Accords and the parties which supportedthem. It was a campaign
with two convergent effects: it undercut the government negotiations, and
it further distanced the people from the government.
Regional politics only aggravatedthe disintegration of the political
climate within Rwanda.Events in neighboringBurundi,long an obsession
with the political class in Rwanda,once again contributedto the fearsand
anxieties in Rwandain October 1993, when President Melchior Ndadaye
and several other high officials were assassinated by elements of the
Burundi army.23Ndadaye, the first elected civilian president of Burundi,
had been Hutu; the army was known to be predominantlyTutsi and allied
to the opposition party. Furthermore,following a coup in 1965, military
leaders had ruled Burundi for almost thirty years, and the army had been
deeply implicated in earliermassive killings of civilians - mostly Hutu in 1972 and 1988.
While Ndadaye'sassassination was barelycoveredin the international
press - a lesson not lost on the Rwandanmilitants - it sent a shock wave
through Rwanda's political elite. Here was the first Hutu president of
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Burundi,elected in June 1993 by a convincing margin (in what virtually all
observers applaudedas a free and fair election), and subsequently assassinated by elements in the Burundi army - an army dominated by Tutsi
closely allied to Ndadaye's political opponents. In postcolonial Burundi,
ethnic politics had been more pronounced than in Rwanda;for the hardliners of the Habyarimana regime, therefore, an ethnic (Tutsi) army in
Burundiserved as both a cause for fear and a model for the military state.
Consequently, within Rwanda, opponents of the Arusha Accords held up
the death of Ndadaye as an example of what was likely to happen with
power-sharingin Rwanda(namely, if the RPFwere allowed to sharepower
and to participatein the government).
But these events played into the developing crises in Rwandain other
ways as well. The shocking death of Ndadaye was followed by widespread
violence in Burundi. Supporters of Frodebu (Ndadaye's political party)
attacked partisans of Uprona, the opposition party (linked both to the
former regimes and to the army). The two parties were not purely ethnic
parties;nonetheless, because of the legacy of ethnic politics in Burundiand
strong Tutsi domination in the army, subsequent conflict took on a
marked ethnic character. The army retaliated by attacking Hutu.
Thousands of people were killed. Thousands more fled the country, many
of them seeking asylum in southern Rwanda:by April 1994, there were
some 400 000 refugees from Burundi,mostly Hutu, crowded into refugee
camps in southern Rwanda. So not only did these events in Burundiserve
to deepen the political crisis in Rwanda, but they also introduced a large
population of highly politicized and deeply bitter refugees. Their presence
heightened political fears and ethnicized political consciousness within
ruralRwanda;in subsequent events, many of these refugees were to serve
as active participants in the massacres of RwandanTutsi, acting in some
cases as the shock troops for local militias duringthe genocide in Rwanda
(see, for example, Human Rights Watch/Africa 1994b, 7).
EXTERNALACTORS: ARMS AND INACTION
The international community was shocked by what happenedin Rwanda
after 6 April 1994. But we should be equally shocked by the distortions in
the media and the dithering of the Western powers in formulating a
response.
Political violence was not entirely unforeseen although the scale of
the tragedywas utterly unexpected. In February1994, tensions in Rwanda
increased noticeably as the paralysis in the government draggedon. The
leader of one of the opposition parties, the Social Democratic Party (PSD),
was killed in February.PSD supportersbelieved members of anotherparty,
the Coalition for the Defense of the Republic (CDR)- a party of militant
Newbury & Newbury: A Catholic Mass in Kigali
3I I
proponents of hardline action - to be responsible for this assassination;
they retaliated by killing the leader of the CDR. Over the last weeks of
February,there followed numerous killings, burnings, and lootings in
Kigali. In light of subsequent events, one can see these events as a "trial
run," an opportunity for the militias to practice their "work"- and to
gauge the response to such actions. But the UNAMIR force in Rwandadid
nothing, and it became clear to those in the Habyarimanaregime planning
the liquidation of opponents that they could act with impunity. Tensions
continued to rise in March; rumors of a planned coup pervaded Kigali.
Meanwhile, there is evidence that the UN forces in Rwanda (and some
foreign embassies) had been warned that militias were being armed and
that there was a plan to restart the war.
What did the UN do?We are told that the UN force was not given the
mandate and forces it needed. If not, why not? It has now become clearthat
the US and other powers had knowledge of what was going on, but failed
to act. At the very least, this bespeaks a blatant failureof intelligence, more
likely a lack of concern. But even after the slaughter began, the actions of
the West seemed almost to acquiesce in the killings: Westerngovernments
sent in troops only to save whites, then they withdrew. They did nothing
to protect those clearly at risk. The UN did not reinforcetheir contingent
or even change their mandate to save the lives of perhaps thousands of
innocent civilians. Many people were killed directly in front of UN troops,
who stood aside and let it happen.The UN then all but pulled out, leaving
behind a derisoryforce of about 270 soldiers (down from 2 500, and in the
face of the Secretary-General'srequest for increasing the numbersto 5 500)
(Prunier1997, 275-76).
But it is a mistake to place responsibility for these actions exclusively
on the UN Seceretariat, as if it were an independent executive political
unit. Instead, the UN must be seen as a collection of independent sovereign states; the actions of the Secretariatare constrained by the Security
Council, which representsthe interests of these states. At the time of the
genocide, the Security Council included France (a permanent member of
the Security Council - therefore,one with veto power - and a strongally
of the Habyarimanaregime), and representatives of three African states,
including Rwanda itself and Djibouti (a client state of France).(The third
African member was Nigeria, which generally sought a vigorous response
but was thwarted in this goal.) Furthermore,the US played a curious role:
caught in intense discussions among the State Department, the armed
forces, and the National Security Council, the Clinton administrationfirst
assured the UN Secretariatof logistical support in mounting a mission to
thwart the genocide, then in effect withdrew its offer - by increasing the
price for such supportas to make it impossible. There are questions - and
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CJAS / RCEA33:2 & 3 I999
ample suspicion - about whether the response of the US government was
dictated more by finances than it was by strategic goals of their own. In
either case, the genocide continued without hindrance from Europe,the
US, or the UN (Des Forges 1995b, 273-77; Prunier 1997, 273-77; Burkhalter
1995).
It is clear that the lack of any rapid,efficacious international response
when the killings began is one reason that the death toll was so high.
Rwandais a small and compact country, with a tightly knit administration
and infrastructure;in particular, it has an excellent and easily accessible
roadnetwork. Furthermore,while it is a chimera to think that all killings
could have been stopped, it is clear that an outside presence could,
nonetheless, have saved many hundreds of thousands of lives; the few
international troops that remained in the country demonstrated that, in
many instances, their very presence was sufficient to save lives: for five
months, some 1 200 people were "protected"in the National Stadium by
a tiny UN contingent. Many more could have been saved by judicious
timely response on a scale appropriateto the genocide.
But in the US, Rwanda was portrayed as "Africa,"and within some
segments of the the US administration, "Africa"was Somalia:though the
military risks were very small, the US was simply unwilling to take the
political initiatives which could have saved hundredsof thousands of lives,
so soon after the "Somalia debacle," in which the lives of eighteen US
soldiers had been lost. Furthermore,the ignorance or complacency of the
press was an important factor in this. News media pronouncements that
this was just another "tribalwar" renderedmeaningless any call for assistance; in general, the press and broadcast reports in the US (including
Nightline and Sixty Minutes) persistently portrayed this as simply the
continuation of ancient tribal animosities - in spite of the empirical
recordwhich cast a very different light on the killings. Instead, the news
organizations sought to project the world through the lens of US politics,
and for different reasons, both major parties had interests in avoiding
involvement in Rwanda. The news organizations either did not know or
did not careto know; playing to the popularstereotypes seems to have been
more important than engaging in any solid analysis of the events.
Paradoxes of Ethnicity
Two common views about the importance of ethnicity for politics have
often been voiced for Rwanda. One presupposes that ethnic groups have
singular origins, reflected in specific unchanging cultural and biological
traits;it assumes that ethnic differences simply representenduringhistorical antecedents. When advanced in the context of ethnic conflict, this
view also presupposesthat two such groupswill always be opposedto each
Newbury & Newbury: A Catholic Mass in Kigali
313
other - that ethnicity alone is the explanation of conflict. In other words,
it assumes that cultural and racial attributes are intimately related, that
ethnic differences change very slowly if at all, and that groups defined by
those attributes will always be in conflict. A second common view about
ethnicity is that before colonial intrusion, Rwandaformed a single society
without significant ethnic distinctions; it proposes that ethnic identities
are simply products of external machinations, whether the result of colonial policies or a more recent political program.
Neither of these views - primordialistor instrumentalist - presents
an accurate depiction of ethnicity in Rwanda.Regardlessof the historical
components of different segments of the population - and there were
multiple historical factors involved in the histories of each social category
- the consolidation of ethnic categories was shaped by political context.
It is politics that makes ethnicity significant (or,indeed, insignificant),not
ethnicity which invariably defines politics. The paradoxis that ethnicity
was simultaneously the product of politics and yet, at times, a powerful
determinant of the shape of political culture.
This is hardlya novel insight; it has been demonstratedin many studies of ethnicity in Africa,and in recent scholarly analyses of Rwandansociety.24But such findings do not seem to have had much impact outside a
small circle of Rwanda specialists. To understandthe complexity of such
issues, three factors need be accounted for. First, individual identity need
be differentiatedfrom corporateconcepts of identity. Second, one needs to
distinguish ethnicity as an identity from ethnic mobilization as a political
force. And, finally, it is important to understandethnic identity as a historical product,not as an essentialist given or a political fabrication;both the
internal components and the interrelations among ethnic categories vary
over time.
The political salience of ethnic identities also varied with context and differentlyfor different ethnic categories. Formost areasover most of
the history of the region, the evidence suggests that region,clan, or kinship
were more important as identity categories than the "ethnic" categories
recognized today. This was especially true for the myriad of small, independent polities of the western regions of Rwanda, where there seems to
have been no overarching ethnic category two hundred years ago; these
polities did not identify in any consistent corporate manner as "Hutu."
Only with their subordinationwithin Nyiginya power structuresdoes this
label seem to have been applied to them, and that, at first, by outsiders.
In short, alterity is an essential element in defining the strength of
such identities. Indeed, the two identities each have their own separate
histories, such that in the context of Rwandanstate-building, a collective
Tutsi identity emerged before a collective Hutu identity did (C. Newbury
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CJAS / RCEA33:2 & 3 1999
1978, 1988, 208-09). Whereasbefore 1900, the royal court more frequently
fought against other "Tutsi"rivals, only in the context of colonial rule, did
Tutsi identify Hutu as a corporate "other" - though it is clear that the
term was also used as a term of individual disparagementby Tutsi at the
court. Similarly, only under colonial rule did "Hutu" identify "the Tutsi"
collectively as their political other, rather than simply as a locus of
personal identity.
In Rwanda,while Europeanpolicies did not create ethnic distinctions,
they defined them within a particular set of oppositions, placed within a
new resource environment. A majorconsequence of such policies was that
ethnic mobilization became a key feature of the Rwandan Revolution of
1959, shaping both the perceived need for revolutionary change and the
political dynamics of its ultimate success. Yet conflicts of class and clan at
the local level remain the enduringelements in this political environment:
"regionet richesse" were the operative factors to individual identity.
As an explanatoryframeworkfor understandingthe genocide of 1994,
tracing out those lines of opposition is probably,in fact, at least as important as delineating more generalized ethnic distinctions. During the genocide, in some areasmilitias from outside the local community were sent in
to stir up violence against Tutsi and against any Hutu seen as opponents of
the Habyarimanaregime; eyewitness accounts show that, in some cases,
ordinaryruraldwellers had to be encouraged,coerced, and "persuaded"to
go and kill their neighbors (AfricanRights 1994).25Whole communities even regions - sometimes tried to defend themselves against those intent
on extending the genocide,26 and people of the same locale often aided
others under threat (Jefremovas 1995). Even during the genocide itself,
class was often more significant than ethnicity in targetingvictims (Andre
and Platteau 1998; Longman 1995).
Some connection to the state apparatus seems to have been the
common characteristic of local level leadership in the massacres; those
organizingthe genocide were often tied to people whose jobs dependedon
the state (AfricanRights 1994; Longman 1995).Development of a political
rationale at the national level - transcendingclass, kin, or regional differences - is what made ethnicity a salient factor, such that this personal
identity became political, and the simplicity of corporate categories
trumped the complexity of individual identities. In short, much more
analysis is needed of the changing internal configurationswithin the larger
"ethnic" categories - and on the role of the state; privileging ethnic causation is sometimes simply a cover for the lack of historical or political
acquaintancewith the processes at work.
There are many ways in which political actors of the day looked
beyond ethnicity. Within Rwanda, government extremists saw Hutu
Newbury & Newbury: A Catholic Mass in Kigali
3I 5
moderatesas their primarypolitical obstacle, and outside Rwanda,the RPF
clearly operated on the assumption that large numbers of people were
ready to take action against the regime in power (Prunier1995, 91). The
fact that it was initially part of the RPFstrategy to precipitate an uprising
illustrates the degreeto which informed political actors of the day saw the
extra-ethnic dimensions of the political climate in Rwanda at the end of
the 1980s - a time of strong disaffection of the population in Rwandafrom
the government (Reyntjens 1994, 150; Watson 1991, 13-14).But their very
action made them wrong: the RPFattack itself seems to have turned this
into a situation of "double fear." On the one hand, the population feared
the increasing power of the state and the terrorist tactics of the
Habyarimanaregime. On the other hand, they fearedthe army of the RPF,
strongly identified in the minds of many Rwandanswith the exploitative
regime under the monarchy that had been overthrown thirty years before
in the Rwandan Revolution. In our conversations with Rwandansin the
mid-1990s, it was striking how precise and detailed were these historical
memories of the monarchical regime;rightly or wrongly, the RPFwas seen
by many as a reincarnation of the prerevolutionarypower structure. But
this was not simply generalized "ethnic hatred," though the government
tried to make it so - it was the refusal to return to a specific lived past.
In analyzing this dual fear- fearof the Habyarimanagovernment and
fearof the RPF- we should keep in mind that both objects of concern have
reconstructed histories and more complex histories than normally
accepted. That is, both have gone through changes over time: neither
emergedwhole and remained the same in
some pure sense. And neither the genocide nor the RPF invasion was
unavoidable:both grew out of calculations which drew on, or catalyzed,
historically rooted perceptions among the population in general. The
thinking that led to genocide was not the invention of ethnicity, but the
apotheosis of ethnicity: putting ethnic policy into action. And the aftermath has tended to reinforce ethnic essentialism on both sides. When the
RPFintervened to stop the genocide in 1994, many Rwandanshoped that
the new resulting regime would be broad-basedand even-handed.In the
immediate post-cataclysmic phase, such hopes were not realized
(Ntezimana 1994, 61-68; Donnet 1995; Mujawamariya 1995; Reyntjens
1995c;Ndahimana [c. 19961).27Critics of the current, RPF-ledgovernment
note worrisome trends that appear to repeat patterns from the past ethnic exclusivism in access to power and resources, arbitraryjudicial
practices, and a corporatevision of ethnicity in official discourse (which
tends to globalize blame for the genocide to all Hutu, labelling them as
"genocidaires").28
What is of great concern is that in a political conflict of this nature,
316
CJAS / RCEA33:2 & 3 I999
ethnicity seems to have a one-way ratchet. Nothing enhances ethnicity
like exile, as both the RPFand the subsequent refugee experiences suggest
(Malkki 1990, 32-62). But it is still important not to lose sight of the reality that there are many people who reject the premise that ethnicity serves
as a preeminent criterion of identity, and as a principal constraint to individual action. They see that ethnicity is an element to our humanity, not
the prison house of perception. In the case of Rwanda, ethnicity is an
important feature of Rwandan culture, but it does not supercede and
should not threaten their shared cultural identity as Rwandan.
Conclusion
In Rwanda,the dynamics of ethnicity arefarmore subtle and complex than
can be accounted for by interpretationsbased on either ethnic essentialism
or ethnic invention; any tendency to project such essentialism or idealism
into the historical past is fraught with fragility. Both neglect the social
processes that forged ethnic identities. To say that ethnicity is a social
construct is not to deny that it can be politically potent, but only to note
that the political salience of ethnicity depends on the context. Buildingon
work which highlights the contingent nature of ethnicity, some authors
have proposed a "constructivist" approach to understanding ethnicity
(Young1993, 3-35). They accept that affective symbols and an awareness
of shared historical experiences may shape collective identities expressed
throughethnicity, but they arguethat the political and social context have
strong influences on whether and how such affective elements become the
basis for identity and action.
In the Rwandancase, the element of contingency is importantbecause
it places particular responsibility on those who make state policy and
those who compete for control of the state. The violence which engulfed
Rwandain 1994 was a political phenomenon which had strong overtones
of class conflict as well. Ethnicity served as a language through which
these fears and ambitions were expressed, but it was not ethnicity that
"caused"the violence. Viewing the violence in Rwandaas the productof a
political struggle directs our attention to the concerns, fears,and strategies
of the actors involved.
The analysis providedin this paperof the historical context in which
the massacres of 1994 in Rwandaoccurredpoints to several of the characteristics that scholars of genocide have identified as preconditions to genocide. Let us briefly review these. Fromthe late 1980s, Rwandansociety was
wracked by a series of economic shocks and ecological setbacks which
created a climate of great insecurity. The political liberalization undertaken by the regime did little to alleviate such concerns. Framedwithin
the class structures of the day, the new parties for the most part failed to
Newbury & Newbury: A Catholic Mass in Kigali
317
address the concerns of the rural population with any consistent conviction. The invasion of the country in October 1990 aggravatedthese fears.
So the population was caught between three uninviting alternatives:none
of the political responses adequately addressed their economic insecurities.
But the RPFinvasion also gave the regime in power an opening which
it was quick - too quick - to take advantage of. It created a convenient
diversion for a regime faced with grave economic problems and an eroding
legitimacy. It allowed for extensive militarization of state and society. And
it provideda target;it allowed the incumbent powerholders in Rwandato
make scapegoats of the Tutsi minority living within Rwanda. Extremists
associated with the regime propagatedan anti-Tutsi ideology designed to
stir up public animosity towards Tutsi. Diffused in certain newspapersand
especially over the extremist radio station Radio Television Libre des
Milles Collines (RTLM),this vitriol became particularlyhateful and dehumanizing duringthe massacres of April, May, and June 1994 (Mironkoand
Cook 1995; Chretien et al. 1995).29
It is important to realize that there is a history to this emergent ethnic
scapegoating. In the 1990s, ethnic conflict was politically constructed
from complex images of the past and convergent fears of the present;it was
neither a universal nor an instantaneous phenomenon. The original
murders, after the 1990 invasion, were small in scale (comparedto what
came later) and not joined by the population. Moderates such as Alphonse
Nkubito challenged and vigorously opposed the polarizing vision of the
extremists. Nascent human rights organizations and some of the opposition political parties which emerged in 1991 pushed for negotiation,
accommodation, and, eventually, powersharingwith the RPF.But hardliners associated with Habyarimana'sgovernment denied the legitimacy of
the powersharingarrangement.
In the end, the death of PresidentHabyarimanaprovideda pretext, the
constructed anti-Tutsi ideology a rationale, and the three year hiatus the
organizationaltime, for the tragic events of 1994. Fueled by fear and organized by the state, the militias, elements in the army, and the Presidential
Guardimplemented a plan to kill moderate Hutu opponents of the regime
and the entire Tutsi population - unarmed men, women, and children,
most of whom had no connection with the RPF.In these massacres, all
Tutsi were defined by the extremists as potential targets. But not all Hutu
sharedthat goal or definition. To accept the corporatistview of "Hutu"in
Rwanda is essentially to accept the corporatist constructions of the
government;it is also to ignore much of the history and politics of the society.
Killing on such a massive scale presupposeda key role for the state, as
318
CJAS / RCEA33:2 & 3 I999
the history of the genocide itself makes clear. The killings began in the
capital and targettedHutu moderates. They then moved to include Tutsi,
but even so - for all its unspeakablehorror- this was not an instanteous,
spontaneous, or universal occurrence, as the images of "tribalwarfare"or
"repressedethnic hatred"imply. Accounts of western observersnote that
large areas of the country remained calm for days after 6 April; in some
areas,it took weeks for the massacres to begin. Even then people often had
to be forced- or threatened - to participate. Others risked their lives to
protect the targetted- and often paid the cost.
Thus, it is clear that - in both its conduct and planning - the genocide in Rwanda was not spontaneous; it resulted from an organized
program of violence that was planned, calculated, orchestrated, and
encouragedby political authorities. And the fears that it drew on - for
fearsthere were - were much more complex than "ethnic fear"alone. As
FrankChalk and KurtJonassohnhave have noted,
Genocides are always performedby a state or other authority. In the
20th century, the perpetrator is almost always the state because
authority and power are highly centralized and the modern means of
communication are so efficient that such centralization can be effectively composed (1990, 26).
Although it was not alone, Nkubito's voice was a lonely voice. After
he left office, he refused to leave the country. Severalmonths later he died
under suspicious circumstances that have never been explained; no
autopsy was allowed. His death and his silenced voice represent the
marginalized - and precarious - position of political moderates, in a
highly politicized atmosphere.
But more than representingthe silence of a political voice, his death
also speaks to the burial of a vision of history - one which called for a
commemorative mass, not a joyous celebration in October 1994, and one
which accounts for the complexity of social process and the complex
texture of the social fabric, even in a country as small as Rwanda.In this
vision, where a Hutu mourned the deaths of Tutsi, humanity too becomes
a factorof one's identity. In this vision, the particularitiesof experiencefamily, friendships, region, class, religion, occupation, and ideology become subordinate to ethnicity only when inside actors (or outside
observers)make them so.
Notes
A founderandfirstpresidentof the Collectifdes Liguesdes Droitsde l'Homme
anumbrellaassociationlinkingseveralRwandanhumanrightsorgani(CLADHO),
zations, Nkubitowas appointedMinisterof Justicein the newly-formedRPF
governmenton 19 July1994.As an independentHutumoderatein the RPF-domi-
Newbury & Newbury: A Catholic Mass in Kigali
319
nated government established after the genocide, he found himself virtually without political supportto institute the judicial proceduresto be followed in the postgenocide period. Still, he continued to insist that judicial proceduresbe respected,
even in the widespreadarrestswhich followed the genocide. In August 1995, as part
of a ministerial reshuffle, Nkubito was dismissed. He was one of several Hutu
moderateswho resignedor were dismissed from the cabinet at this time (including
the PrimeMinister andthe Minister of the Interior).Nkubito ([1994] 1995)expressed
the view that a corruptedjudiciaryandpatterns of impunity for transgressionsof the
law in Rwandawere central elements to the political crises and violence that led to
the genocide.
2 Indeed.the calculated nature of the genocide became clear early in the unfolding
pattern. For early assessments in the US, see Des Forges (1994), Newbury and
Newbury (1994), "Genocide in Rwanda"(1994). Among other assessments which
confirmed this pattern of calculated killings, see Reyntjens (1994, 295-302),
Guichaoua (1995, 28-32), Lemarchand(1994a, 1995), C. Newbury (1995), African
Rights (1994). On the chronology of the first days of the killings, see Reyntjens
(1995a).
3 Formoving accounts of the reactions of two
insightful observerson their returnto
Rwandaafter the genocide, see Mujawamariya(1995) and Kagabo(1995).
4 Rwandans share a
single language, Kinyarwanda, and common membership
within a set of state structuresthat long predatedthe arrivalof Europeansat the end
of the nineteenth century - though there were important variations by region and
class in both languageand political belonging. Though not all Kinyarwandaspeakers were included within the state domain, the categories Hutu, Tutsi, and Twa
existed in part as markersof status, wealth, and power within those areasadministered by the precolonial dynastic court structures. But the implications of being
Hutu or Tutsi variedsignificantly over place andtime - among regions andat different periodsin development of the Rwandanstate. In short, these were not internally
homogeneous categories; in fact, in many contexts of local social interaction,
lineage and locale were more importantbases for personal identity than such gross
categories as "Hutu"or "Tutsi"(D. Newbury 1995a).
5 After WorldWar
I, BelgiumdisplacedGermanyas administrativepowerin Rwanda
and Burundi,undera Leagueof Nations Mandate.Following WorldWarII, Belgium
continued to administer Ruanda-Urundi under the supervision of the United
Nations Trusteeship Council. On Belgian colonial policies in Rwanda,see Rumiya
(1992),Lemarchand(1970),Reyntjens(1985),Des Forges(1972),C. Newbury (1988),
Mbonimana(1981), Lindenand Linden(1977), Leurquin(1960).
6 For
analyses of decolonization and the politics of the Rwandan Revolution, see
d'Hertefelt (1960), Nkundabagenzi(1961), Lemarchand(1970), Linden and Linden
(1977), Murego (1975), C. Newbury (1988, chapter 9), Reyntjens (1985), Willame
(1995). For accounts by two key Belgian participants in these events, see Harroy
(1984)and Logiest (1988).
7Jean-PierreChr6tien(1985, 159)describesthese events as a form of "ethnic cleansing," noting that among those targeted were children of mixed marriages (ibyimanyi) and "cheaters"(abaguze ubwoko) who had changed their ethnic affiliation.
See also Segal (1964).
320
CJAS/ RCEA33:2 & 3 1999
8 An example of such a perspective is found in Time (18 May 1994: 57-63). While
recognizingthat the roots to the violence in Rwanda were political and that "the
Rwandacatastrophewas more than a simple meltdown" (58, 62), this report still
uses the languageof "tribalwarfare"and portraysRwandaas "a case study in what
happensto a formercolony when suppressedtribalrivalriesarereleasedinto a power
vacuum."A similar case, the Time reportsuggests, is found in "the collapse of the
Soviet Union [which] ignited a murderous rivalry between Abkhazians and
Georgiansforcontrol of Georgia"(61). Such presentations are often based on atavistic assumptions of "tribalwarfare"in Africa, or on the blind extension to Rwanda
of interpretationsof events elsewhere, ratherthan on informed analysis.
9 On ruraldevelopment issues and the structureof powerrelations in ruralRwanda,
see especially Pottier (1989, 461-77; 1993), Guichaoua (1989), Voss (1987, 37-46),
Godding(1987, 85-98), de Lame (1996).
10During 1989, as the thirtieth anniversaryof the RwandanRevolution approached,
the press in Rwandabecame more outspoken, particularlythe weekly newspaper
Kinyamateka.Also, many articles in the more intellectual journal,Dialogue, established the extent of the growing class cleavages, highlighting growing inequalities
in Rwandansociety, corruptionamong high officials, and land grabsby the wealthy.
Such revelations underscoredthe extent to which the crisis in Rwandawas caused
by politics, not determinedby overpopulationand ecological pressures.On the role
of ecology in the genocide, see D. Newbury (1998).
11On youth politics more
generally,see d'Almeida-Toporet al. (1992).
12Parallelprocesses are found in Burundi;for a thoughtful recent analysis of the
links among rural immiseration, ethnicity, and political violence in Burundi,see
Ndarishikanye(1999).
13Habyarimanacould point to demographicpressuresto justify a position that was
politically expedient. Land pressure was demonstrably serious; in addition to
exploringoutside outlets for Rwandansettlement - a legal and logistical challenge
- the Habyarimanaregimehad, in fact, encouragedthe resettlement of young families from densely populatedregions in the northwest and south-centralareasof the
country to the eastern areas, especially to the Rusumo Commune in the extreme
southeast. But hovering above all this was the political factor:to open up the question of returningrefugeeswould, of course, have forcedthe issue of land rights, insofar as former owners who returned, among them the wealthy and well-trained,
sought to reclaim land now farmedby others.
14 On the largerissue of
refugees and proletarianization,see D. Newbury (1986, 8797).
15Fora discussion of how such figures have been arrivedat, see Guichaoua (1992).
For an analysis of the regional political ramifications posed by the presence of
Rwandan refugees in countries neighboring Rwanda, see, especially, Guichaoua
(1992,31-38). On the imprecision of such calculations, see Reyntjens(1994, 139-41).
In additionto the inflation of the numbers by various parties, the numbers are difficult to estimate with any degreeof reliability because of the complexity of defining
Rwandanculture and identifying refugees by culture alone. Colonial boundaries
were drawnso as to exclude large numbers of Rwandanspeakersfrom the colonial
Rwandanstate, and thousands subsequently fled forcedlaborand famine to settle in
Newbury & Newbury: A Catholic Mass in Kigali
32I
Tanzaniaand Uganda.Many later returnedto Rwanda,but many others were acculturatedto Buganda(in largernumbers than aregenerally accepted).On the effects of
colonial boundarieson the dynamics of ethnic identity, see D. Newbury (1995a);on
the emigration of Rwandansunder colonial rule, see Chretien (1978);D. Newbury
(1991a,269-85).
16 On the
RPF,see also Reed (1996).
17 As
Reyntjenspoints out (1994, 180),pressuresfrom within Ugandaalso probably
influenced the timing of the attack. There had been threats of a renewed round of
hostility against Rwandans living in Uganda, and two key RPF leaders (Fred
Rwigyema and Paul Kagame)had recently been removed from their high positions
in the Ugandamilitary.
18Prunier suggests that the timing was influenced significantly by the Rwandan
government's plans to begin a process of repatriation of refugees from Uganda in
November 1990:
This new development augured ill for the RPF militants who were now in
dangerof losing their supportamong the refugees if the latter felt their return
to Rwandacould be achieved without fighting. Accordingly,they accelerated
their preparationsto beat the November deadline (1995, 91).
Meanwhile, Prunierasserts, hardline elements in Habyarimana'sgovernment also
"wanteda war in orderto get rid of the opposition once and for all."
19Missionnaires d'Afrique,"Quelquesflashes de la guerre,"1-2 fevrier 1992, reproduced in Guichaoua (1995, 609-10).
20 Gasana was responding to a questionnaire administered by Andre Guichaoua.
Gasanawas Minister of Agriculture,Livestock, and the EnvironmentfromJuly 1990
until April 1992, when he was appointed Minister of Defense in the multiparty
coalition government. He left the government in 1993. See also Gasana(1995b,21137) and Msengiyaremye(1995, 239-63).
21On the backgroundto the
genocide andevents during 1994, see the variouscontributions to D. Newbury (1995b).What Bayart(1989) refers to as the "politics of the
belly" was evident throughout this period of political liberalization; once the
ArushaAccordswere signed, the politicking only intensified, manifested in competition over who should representthe parties in the transitional government and the
new national assembly.
22 The
prospectof economic competition from highly skilled returningrefugeeswas
already,in the early 1990s, creating anxiety among artisans, workers seeking jobs,
and some merchants (Guichaoua 1992, 40). But, as Reyntjens (1994, 211) notes, the
repatriationof the refugees could also be seen as beneficial if one defined economic
development in a technocratic fashion, for many returnees would bring skills and
international connections that could help Rwandareduce its enclave status.
23Foranalyses of postcolonial
political conflicts in Burundi,see Lemarchand(1996)
and Reyntjens (1994).Fora discussion of the politics leading to, and following from,
Ndadaye'sassassination, see Reyntjens (1994, 1995b).
24 The literatureon the interplayof ethnicity with
political context is extensive. For
a discussion of the contingent characterof ethnicity in politics, using a comparative
perspective, see Bowen (1996). For Africa and beyond, see Young (1976, 1986) and
Vail (1989).Among analyses which addressthe complexities of ethnicity in Rwanda
322
CJAS / RCEA33:2 & 3 1999
and neighboringareas,see Chretien (1985),Des Forges(1995a),Lemarchand(1996),
Lemarchand(1994a,29-33), C. Newbury (1998, especially chapters1 and 10),Pottier
(1994),Reyntjens (1994, chapter 1), Vidal (1985, 1991, 1995). On how social identities were reconfiguredin the context of changingpolitical conditions of the western
interlacustrineregionduringthe precolonialperiod,see D. Newbury (199lb, 1995a).
Fora comparablestudy of processes of redefiningethnicity among refugeesfrom the
Burundigenocide of 1972, see Malkki (1995).
25This is not surprising.After the departureof Tutsi chiefs and subchiefs duringthe
1959 Revolution, opposition to Tutsi was apparentlynot a preoccupationfor ordinary rural dwellers. Even the pogrom against Tutsi in 1972-73, the prelude to
Habyarimana'sseizure of power, focused mainly on Tutsi students and teachers in
educationalestablishments, as well as salariedworkers;apparently,peasants were
not a majortarget.In 1967 and the early 1970s, ClaudineVidal(1985, 170)found that
for ruraldwellers in the areas she visited, concern about access to land was much
more importantthan ethnic rivalries.
26 They were not able to do so for long: Butare,Rwanda'ssecond city - located in
the south and recognized for its relatively relaxed ethnic relations - held off the
killings for two weeks beforethe Kigaliregime succeeded in inserting death squads
from the outside to begin "the work" of killing.
27
Earlyconcerns voiced by such authors intensified ratherthan diminished, as the
RPFconsolidated its power.
28 See, for example, Nsanzuwera (1997) and Nkuriyingoma (1997). Nsanzuwera
served as the Prosecuteurfor Kigali in the post-genocide government until March
1995; Nkuriyingoma was Minister of Information for a time, beginning in
September1994. Both now live in Belgium. Nkuriyingomaexpressesthe deep disappointment of many when he writes:
Whereaswe had the intention of bringingthe RPFto accept the establishment
of democraticinstitutions in which the population could have confidence, we
found ourselves faced with a parallel, occult power, which controlled all the
structuresof the administration.This power was and still is found in the hands
of the "Afandi," by which is meant the officersof the RwandanPatrioticArmy.
Little by little, the regime has thus put in place institutions essentially
dominated by a single ethnic group.... The Rwandan state functions with an
administrative,judicial, and police apparatus,and an army dominated by one
ethnic group. That is what explains the fact that Hutu find themselves in an
extremely precarious situation, which does not seem to bother the power in
Kigali(1997, 56-57).
29 A parallelwith Nazi propagandais evident here:
The Nazis ... accused the Jewsof wanting to do what they, the Nazis, were out
to do themselves: control the world and annihilate their enemies. In this
invertedpicture of themselves, they describedthe Jews as the demonic force of
evil that Nazism itself was. In doing this, they dehumanized themselves first,
andthat enabledthem to strip the Jews,in their own minds, of any human quality. The very fact that the process, as we shall see, was gradual,indicates that
it might have been stopped somewhere on the way. Once, however, the victim
became completely devoid of humanity in the perpetrator'seye, he could be
Newbury & Newbury: A Catholic Mass in Kigali
323
killed. Annihilation followed. (Documents on German Foreign Policy, 19181965. Series E [1933-1937],Volume 5, cited in Chalk and Jonassohn1990, 340).
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