“When President Clinton stood outside in the warm sunlight on that sunny day in Rwanda in March 1998, no figure looked as contrite as his did. Clad in his official, dark suit, he apologized for the cavalier attitude the West adopted towards Rwanda in 1994.

“We did not immediately call it by it’s rightful name - genocide”, he said. “This must never happen again”, he added later. What he did not realize was that the claps that ensued after this incredibly curt and dismissive speech were ones that were filled merely with respect for a visiting dignitary - particularly one as eminent as the President of the United States. However, there was more anger than respect.

How was it possible for the world’s remaining super-power to have practically acted as a by-stander to genocide. Where was the United States when 10,000 people were being slaughtered daily? Where was the West? The French were in Rwanda three months after the genocide began, then they left - why? Why also did the Belgians leave shortly after the ten soldiers were ambushed and killed? Why was it that the powers that be - in particular the West under the auspices of the United Nations - simply dismissed one of the most horrific and brutal massacres of the late twentieth-century through inaction?

The Rwandan genocide perhaps leaves more questions unanswered than resolved. However, this paper will attempt to probe beneath the surface and explain to some extent the political situation in Rwanda just before the colonizers left and illustrate how the psychology of genocide came about. Also, it will show how the latent climate of hostility gradually grew to disastrous dimensions in the 1990s, culminating in the genocide of 1994 that left between 800,000 and 1,000,000 Rwandans massacred with machetes.

---

A murder is committed practically every day, and it is often dismissed rather fatalistically as a casual fait diver. This is because somehow, we have come to accept murder as one of those horrible things that happen to other people. We tell ourselves that the crime is shocking yet know that there is absolutely nothing we can do in the event of murder -- unless, that is, it happens to one of us.

What does one feel when one's relative is brutally murdered? Disgust? Anger? Sadness? Needless-to-say, all these as well as infinite questions as to why it happened to you. It can never happen to me can-- or can it? It did happen to someone like me -- a mere member of the human race -- in April 1994, when people who could have been my relatives were brutally massacred in what is referred to endearingly as "The Land of a Thousand Hills" -- Rwanda.

Rwanda is situated in Central Africa, "on the watershed between the Nile and Zaire river basins."[1] Most of the country is "more than 1500 metres above sea-level."[2] It has tropical rainforest at the higher and wetter altitudes in the West, which gradually changes to lower and thinner scrub in the south and east."[3]

According to David Waller[4], Rwanda "is just one degree south of the equator"[5] and "its high altitude produces average annual temperatures of 19⁰C and regular rainfall (averaging 85mm each month) that support a wide range of crops, growth on every available inch of land."[6]

Rwanda is such a delightful country that according to local legends, God spends his days busy in the world, but goes back to Rwanda to sleep every night.[7] Kinloch maintains that "it has been a relatively prosperous African state, benefiting from a high-altitude climate and fertile land."[8] He contends that tea, coffee and bananas are an important part of the economy of the major crops that are grown in Rwanda.

With such an idyllic description of Rwanda, how would it ever have been conceivable for a genocide to have occurred? However, as Albert Camus once wrote, "at the heart of all beauty lies something inhuman…". Gerard Prunier[9] maintains that "abstract morals notwithstanding, even tragedies do not occur in a vacuum"[10], adding that "the country one calls Rwanda is not an 'ordinary' African country…"[11], because of its small size -- "only 26,338 km²."

With respect to the people, they are divided into three ethnic groups, though two -- the Bahutu (or Hutu) and Batutsi -- are the most prominent in the country. In fact, today mention Rwanda to most people, and they will almost immediately think of Hutu or Tutsi.

The way I remember how the ethnic groups are categorized is by associating the word "tutsi" with tall, for this is actually what they are -- tall people, purportedly of superior race:

"The Mututsi of good race has nothing of the Negro, apart from his colour. He is usually very tall, 1.80m at least, often 1.90m or more. He is very thin, a characteristic which tends to be even more noticeable as he gets older. His features are very fine: a high brow thin nose and fine lips framing beautiful shining teeth."[12]

As for the women, they are "usually lighter-skinned than their husbands, very slender and pretty in their youth, although they tend to thicken with age…he is a natural-born leader, capable of extreme self-control and of calculated goodwill."[13]

On the other hand, the description of the Hutu is considerably less favourable, albeit pejorative. They are described as "generally short and thick-set with a big head, jovial expression, a wide nose and enormous lips."[14] However, they are credited with being "extroverts who like to laugh and lead a simple life."[15]

Waller argues that the Hutus are generally the "population of cultivators, who now form almost 90 percent of the population"[16], whereas the Tutsi, who form six and a half percent. "emerged as the dominant military and economic force."[17] He maintains that "it was they who introduced the lyre-horned Ankole cattle into Rwanda."[18] He continues that "they reinforced their military strength by developing an oral mythology which taught that the Batutsi's dominance over the Bahutu and Batwa was ordained by God, and that the Batutsi and their Mwami (king) were omnipotent in all walks of life."[19]

However, the King, Prunier argues, "was the only apex of a complex pyramid of political, cultural and economic relationships."[20] He continues that the fact that kings were regarded as more superior, were actually of no consequence, because "typically, as in all traditional societies, including Europe till the eighteenth century these three different levels of human action were deeply enmeshed and could not be prised apart."[21]

That said, this is not to ignore the potentially dangerous route the distortion of the Tutsi's oral history was going. Whilst this predisposition to superiority was not conducive to genocide, that of 1994 contains vestiges from this inculcation.

It is interesting to read what other authors argue about the issue of superiority. Kinloch, writing in Volunteers Against Conflict, corroborates a similar idea, when he writes about how he came a cross a school book he found in a public library that had been looted, in which there was documentation regarding the history of the ethnic groups:

"according to the book, the country, first inhabited by Batwa Pigmies, was agriculturally developed by Hutu farmers of Bantu origin and later dominated by Tutsis, who had emigrated from the mid-Nile region.”[22]

Kinloch consequently expresses doubt over what he believed may be an apocryphal account: “whether or not these accounts are factual, they have been used largely to legitimize colonial policies based on ethnic discrimination as a means to establish foreign domination over the country.”[23]

This much is true especially when one looks at the way such a small minority were able to polarize society to such an extent that the majority of Hutus felt that they were not of the same class or creed. It is almost inconceivable how the minority Tutsi was able to pull this charade off, maintaining that they were superior to the Hutus. It is equally strange and disturbing how the Tutsis fatalistically accepted this idea for a long time, till they decided to react finally with disastrous consequences in April 1994.

No-one would ever think that this was possible, because not only had the polarization been consistently intensified and maintained by the colonialists, but had been vigorously inculcated so that it grew and became a pervasive climate of fear, in which none of the groups were able to escape as long as they coexisted.

The instigators of this potentially hostile climate were none other than the Belgians and the Germans, who were able, with several methods to “reinforce ethnic divisions within Rwandan society.”[24]

According to Waller, the colonialists first arrived in Rwanda in 1894, and “in the same year, the European powers, meeting at the Congress of Berlin, divided Africa among themselves.”[25] As a result of this conference, Rwanda was to become part of German East Africa.

In 1867, the Rwandan King (Mwami) agreed to his country becoming “a German protectorate, even though the only enemies

around were Belgium and Britain.”[26]

The protectorate was to set the stage for a series of undulating political stages in Rwanda that saw the Germans defeated by the Belgians in an ignominious show of force. Furthermore, the Belgian expulsion of the Germans during this period indicates the extent to which the Belgians had been given responsibility towards Rwanda, especially after it had been given a League of Nations mandate to do so.

Ethnic divisions were further reinforced by the Belgians who "continued the German policy of indirect administration (partly because it was cheap) {as the author maintains}."[27]

Consequently, Hutus could only become priests, because any access they previously had to positions of authority, or higher education, were blocked. Hutus were faced with a lose/lose situation where due to the indirect rule, they were compelled to provide "labour and support to their patrons in return for access to cattle, pasture, and security"[28], simply because "they had to, with no expectation of receiving anything in return."[29] Waller contends rather ominously that this system of indirect rule was now being used at the expense of the Rwandans, consequently "destroying the legitimacy of the rule of traditional authorities among the population."[30]

In the interview that the BBC correspondent Fergal Keane gave Gerard Prunier[31], Prunier argues that violence -- albeit physical violence -- was inherent in Belgian colonialism: "in other words, people would get beaten up and it would often happen that these Tutsi auxiliaries of the administration would be physically beaten up by Belgians in front of their 'subjects' ."[32] He continues that "once the white man had walked away, the Tutsi stayed on the hill {as} local chief…"[33]

In other words, with the Germans gone, the Belgians now had carte blanche to intensify the polarization of the Hutus and the Tutsis. Prunier maintains that the latter were perceived to be "haughty and arrogant"[34], and rightly so, because they had enjoyed considerable support from the Belgians who had made them feel that they were superior.

Consequently, it comes as no surprise that in 1959, when leaders insisted on fundamental change, {and} the Batutsi leaders resisted, the Belgians did nothing to quell the increasingly inimical climate, but rather exacerbated the problem by supporting the replacement of "more than half the Tutsi chiefs and sub-chiefs within Hutu ones…within the space of a few months."[35]

From the literature that I have thus far consulted, one thing remains clear -- that 1959 was one of the decisive turning points in the history of Rwanda. Kinloch corroborates this when he writes "the cyclic ethnic violence…experienced by Rwanda started in 1959 when widespread massacre provoked the departure and exile of about 150,000 Tutsis to Uganda and Congo."[36]

Nevertheless, despite the atmosphere, what strikes Prunier is that in November 1959, "there were few people killed -- very few." The killings -- the big wave -- were to take place in 1963, after the killings had gathered momentum. In comparison to 1959 where, according to Prunier, about "15 or 20" people were killed, the "63 killings numbered in thousands." Prunier does not attribute these killings to something from "a bunch of savages jump{ing} on people's throats."[37]

He argues that "it was not anarchy at all", but "politically organized violence."[38] Not surprisingly, the Belgian did nothing to stop the violence."[39] According to Waller's statistics, between 1960 and 1962, the violence spread with 10,000 Tutsi killed and another 120,000 "fleeing to neighbouring countries as refugees."

Once again, Belgian support was instrumental in endorsing the Hutus over their constitutional coup d'etat that abolished the monarchy. The population voted for independence, "which was granted on 1 July 1962."[40]

Between 1961 and 1974, several clashes between the government and the Tutsis took place, but none really erupted into genocide. Eventually, another Hutu, General Juvenal Habyarimana engineered a coup that secured him in power in 1974.

This time, the new leader was bent on conciliating the hostile climate that the Belgians had created, his sole aim being to "create national unity."[41] It followed that the ministers of the First Republic (1962-73) were killed and President Kayibanda kept under house arrest until 1975 when he died.[42]

In the same year, "all parties were banned and a quota system was established"[43] with the aim of ensuring that all "ethnic groups and regions were treated fairly in education and employment."[44]

The education system was reformed, and the government introduced the practice of umuganda: a system of community labour on buildings, tree-planting and anti-erosion activities, and road maintenance.[45] Waller continues that Rwanda and Burundi adopted a policy of "good neighbourliness" promising not to interfere in each others affairs.

These conciliatory measures brought considerable harmony and was supported, and endorsed, by the Economic Community of the Great Lakes Countries. This brought Rwanda, Burundi, and Zaire together "in a structure which was supposed to encourage regional development."[46]

Consequently, President Habyarimana enjoyed 90 percent of the vote in elections of 1981, '85 and '89, always making sure that this would be the result he would receive.

However, in 1989, a famine was to affect much of the South-West. Furthermore, discontent about corruption among the country's political elite was growing "and during 1990, the pressure to solve the problem of Rwandan refugees still living in surrounding countries…became ever greater."[47]

Moreover in July 1990, an attempt at political openness was "flatly refused."[48] This refusal came two months earlier, with the President announcing that multi-party politics would be introduced and that a separation between Party and state would take place."[49] Unfortunately, many refugees in neighbouring Rwanda disbelieved the move to be a genuine one and "decided that further negotiations were pointless."[50]

In October 1990, 4000 Tutsi refugees, "deserters from President Musevini's army in Uganda"[51], attacked northern Rwanda. Calling themselves the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), they declared President Habyarimana's system null and void, and promulgated the idea of his departure.

After some successes, the RPF met resistance "from government troops, aided by France, Belgium and Zaire."[52] As a consequence, what had started off as a potential civil war turned into a "protracted guerrilla conflict."[53] Between November 1990 and July 1992, the rebels "gradually took a strip of land along a length of Rwanda's border with Uganda."[54]

Fortunately, a ceasefire was negotiated in Arusha, Tanzania, in July 1992, but according to Waller, the negotiations "dragged on interminably as the parties comprising the fragile coalition government argued among themselves."[55]

Prunier actually argues that the extremists disliked the negotiations "because in their view, they had a certain vision of Rwandese history as something which is extremely dichotomized and the good ones were on one side and they were all Hutus."[56]

He goes on to argue that the "bad ones were all on the other side and were Tutsi…called feudaux revenchards", or as he himself translates for the interviewer, "revenge-bent feudalists."[57]

In other words, they perceived the Tutsi to be the very epitome of "undiluted pure evil."[58] In their eyes, "they saw it as cowardly surrender in the face of dangerous hell-bent foreign devils…"[59]

When questioned about the Tutsi's perspective on the Arusha negotiations, Prunier argues that Habyarimana, as a Hutu president who had not advocated the persecution of the Tutsis, was in a difficult position. This was because the extremists felt that the Arusha negotiations were an indication that "he was getting soft on the Tutsis" and that they could not really trust him anymore. They believed, according to Prunier, that he was getting dangerous, wanting power -- too much of it -- to the extent that "he was ready to jettison the core meaning of what the government was about"[60] -- a "rigid Hutu dictatorship."[61]

Crucially, Hutu extremism was rising exponentially, and worse of all, the Hutus believed that their gradual ascent to violence was good: "in the eyes of the people who perpetrated the genocide, it was good. They were acting in self-defence…defending the Tutsi…defending the Hutu race against a Tutsi take-over, against a diabolical Tutsi plot."[62]

Here one begins to see how rapidly the ascent to genocidal tendencies was becoming more apparent. Leo Kuper, author of Genocide: Its Political Use in the Twentieth Century, provides an explanation as to how it becomes so easy to kill: “the most widely held theory is that these ideologies act by shaping a dehumanized image of these victims in the minds of their persecutors”[63]

In fact, the above idea lends tremendous weight to the idea of “Them” and “Us” theory, where a “denial of individuality”[64] takes place. In other words, once dehumanizing becomes legitimate, it becomes so very easy for perpetrators of genocide to think of their victims as inhuman, perhaps as animals. Consequently, killing them is of no consequence: “since the victims are not human, the inhibitions against their slaughter cease to be operative”[65].

In the same vein, Prunier argues that "killing the Tutsi was self-defence…perfectly normal, and this", he continues, "should always realize that the people who did it were doing it naturally, with a feeling of their own self-righteousness."

A scholar, Jennifer Antieno Fisher, writing in the March 1998 edition of the OnLine Journal of Peace and Conflict Resolution[66], echoes a similar idea. She describes how in a conversation with a Tutsi woman from Burundi, the woman told her how "Tutsis and Hutus had 'learned' from colonialism that the West considers it perfectly normal for one group to claim itself superior to another, and to justify brutality by a dominant/superior group against an 'inferior' one on that basis."

Dangerously enough, this successful attempt at ploarizing the two groups was exacerbated by the fact that both the Belgian colonizers and the extremists -- both the Hutu and the Tutsi -- opposed the Arusha negotiations.

According to Prunier, against the backdrop of social discontent and political unrest, was the build-up of an increasingly hostile climate in which "by late 1992, the protagonists in the future genocide had all found their places as shadowy counterparts of the official institutions."[67]

Prunier contends that the Forces Armees Rwandaises[68], had its secret society, the extremist parties their militia, the secret service its killer squads…"[69] In fact, Prunier makes clear what the agenda of the extremists were: "the absolute maintenance of the type of regime which had existed in Rwanda since 1959."[70] In other words, "a total and absolute power on an ethnic basis…"[71] This is perhaps one of the reasons why, in the absence of any other political solution, the extremists opted for a more sinister solution -- the Final Solution: the extermination of all Tutsis. Undoubtedly, the fuse had been lit, and countdown to genocide was ticking with incredible speed.

On April 6 1994, a plane carrying the presidents of Rwanda and Burundi, was shot down. It triggered one of the most violent and “systematic massacres” ever to take place after the Second World War[72]. The genocide started within an hour.

According to one of the genocide pages on the Internet[73], “the hutus...hacked to death their neighbours in Rwanda”. The United Nations Volunteer[74] who wrote about his experiences there maintains that “the consequences of the tragedy were appalling: more than 500,000 Rwandans perished between April and July 1994 in one of the most dreadful genocides, in recent history”[75]. He then gives an estimate of what this number of deaths is tantamount to in other countries:“ 2.4 million deaths in France; 4-8 million in Bangladesh; 5-10 million in Brazil; 9-18 million in the United States.”[76]

Apparently, an estimated 2 to 5 million refugees fled to the neighbouring countries of Burundi, Tanzania, and Zaïre, “in a massive population exodus of biblical dimensions.”[77]

What has often generated debate, however, is what brought about the systematic killings? Could it just have been the plane crash that unleashed such murderous terror, or was the idea already hatching from the outset? In other words, was there a more sinister plan to commit genocide?

Far from what, according to Prunier, the New York Times called it -- "mindless tribal violence" -- the genocide was not predicated on tribalism, let alone mindless violence.

 

First of all, it was not tribal because, he maintains, the Hutus and Tutsis "are not tribes, tribes speak different languages; they have different societies, customs, religions, whatever, and they usually do not intermarry." Phillip[78] also corroborated the same idea: "unlike say, the former Yugoslavia, there are no territorial distinctions between the places the Hutus and Tutsis lived: they worshipped the same god, spoke the same language; ate the same food, intermarried. There were no significant taboos between them." He maintains that it was therefore "really a lot of work to create these identities."[79]

 

Secondly, Prunier argues that it was "anything but mindless violence." Rather, it was an "extremely well-organized and carefully…well-executed violence" in the way machetes were used to kill: "if you use mostly machetes to kill a million people, which is roughly the estimate, in the space of two and a half months {it} is admirable. It requires extreme organization , extreme care, and extreme perseverance."[80]

 

In Alison des Forge's [81] 800-page study, "they {the soldiers and political leaders} advocated arming most of the young men with such weapons as machetes." She argues that "businessmen close to Habyarimana imported large numbers of machetes, enough to arm every third adult Hutu male."[82]

 

As for Prunier, he makes the comparison between the Germans and the gas chamber, arguing that the fact that "day after day, crews of peasants including women were marshalled and taken to the fields as if they had been reaping a crop"[83], was an indication that as Leo Kuper argues, inhibitions against the brutal and heinous massacres "cease{d} to be operative."[84]

 

In short, "killing Tutsis was simply an administrative job that had to be done as part of the functioning of the government."[85]

 

As powerless as humanitarian agencies such as the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, may seem to curb the genocide, in Rwanda, a so-called “safe humanitarian zone” in South-Western Rwanda “to prevent further exodus of Rwandans to Zaïre and Burundi”[86] was established as the Turquoise Operation.

 

The brainchild of France, it went into operation three months after the killings started. It was authorized in June 1994 under Chapter VII of the United Nations Charter. The force was composed of 2,500 troops, and the soldiers -- most of who were French -- were assisted by military units from seven other countries. According to Kinloch, this operation “was intended to assure security of displaced persons and civilians in Rwanda until full deployment of UNAMIR (United Nations Assistance Mission in Rwanda, created in mid-May 1994... “ in order to facilitate delivery of humanitarian aid”)[87]

 

Kinloch argues that although there was some controversy surrounding the French-led Turquoise Operation, it “demonstrated what could be accomplished on short notice with a limited but highly professional and motivated humanitarian force.”[88]

 

Furthermore, despite the relatively successful nature of the Turquoise Operation, it was really the only practically beneficial operation the West was able to provide whilst the genocide was being carried out with brutal intensity. Implicit in this argument would be the assumption that the West practically fiddled whilst Rwanda was burning.

 

Today, in 1999, four main protagonists in the Rwandan tragedy have been singled out: The United Nations, Belgium, France and the United States.

 

With respect to the United Nations, no-one denies that its intentions were, and have been since its inception in 1945, geared towards saving lives. However, in Rwanda, "it simply failed to appear."[89] Kinloch maintains that not only did it not "fulfil its mission, but…it withdrew when it was most needed…"[90]

 

In fact, when the UN was most needed, the Security Council reduced the 2,519-strong force, ultimately undermining UNAMIR's capacity to protect civilians. It consequently demonstrated its pusillanimity by leaving the French's Operation Turquoise to operate instead.

 

On a BBC Panorama programme[91], Riza, now the Un Secretary-General, Kofi Annan's Chief-of-Staff, told the Panorama reporter, Steve Bradshaw, that "the 'never again' is really very hollow."

 

According to Bradshaw, when the Security Council met "privately to discuss Rwanda in a small consultation room, it was made clear that calling the killing 'genocide' was just not in the interests of the UN club."[92] Interviewing Professor Michael Barnett[93], visibly troubled and voice heavy with emotion by the Security Council and the West's cavalier attitude towards the genocide, argues that "by mid to late April, people in the Security Council knew it was genocide, but refused to call it as such, because ultimately, one understood that if you used the term 'genocide', then you might be forced to act.."[94] He continues that "when someone suggested that we should call genocide a genocide, they were quietly reminded that perhaps they should not use such language."[95]

 

The UN Czech ambassador between 1990 and 1994, K. Kovanda, corroborates this with equal shame: "I know that I personally had an important conversation with one of my superiors in Prague who, at American behest, suggested that they lay off…"[96] Asked by Bradshaw whether that meant "lay off calling it genocide?", he contended, "lay off pushing on Rwanda in general, and calling it genocide specifically."[97] "So the Americans had actually talked to your government back in Prague, and said 'don't let's call it genocide?' " "In Prague, or in Washington, but they were talking to my superiors…"[98]

 

Nevertheless, the decisive turning point in the genocide proved to be with the ten Belgian UN helmets tricked and killed by Rwandans in April 1994. To an extent, it demonstrates the total lack of teeth the UN possessed, for instead of pouring in more troops, the United Nations displayed the most pusillanimous act by withdrawing their expatriates at the expense of the local UN staff who were left to be murdered.

 

According to Prunier, "the French landed 190 paratroopers on the morning of the 9^th as part of the code-named 'Operation Amaryllis'"[99] Their mission was "to evacuate all foreign nationals who wanted to leave, but no Rwandese."[100]

 

Reading Prunier's book, it seems that the Belgian government appeared more responsive to sending in troops , because the-then Foreign Minister, Willy Claes, had asked UNAMIR to modify its mandate and act more in a military capacity. Furthermore, "there were plans to have the 250 arriving paratroopers join the Belgian UN contingent already on the spot."[101] However, it appears France was prevaricating: "Paris was adamantly opposed to such an idea."[102] Prunier categorically argues "the hurried evacuation was a disgrace."[103]

 

In fact, it is becoming increasingly and disturbingly clear that contrary to what I originally believed, the French were the most obdurate in their desire to evacuate foreigners at the expense of the local Tutsis.

 

So hostile was the climate between the French and the Belgians as to what to do at the airport, that there were "mutual threats of violence."[104] In fact, there was an incident whereby "several shells fell close to the French aircraft."[105] This prompted the French paratroopers -- the Amaryllis officers-- into speculating that they had "been fired by their Belgian colleagues in an attempt to deter them from taking off."[106]

 

With respect to the United States, the bottom line is that it was purely and simply indifferent to the plight of the Tutsis because they did not want another Somalia.

 

According to Paul Lewis[107], writing in Soldiers For Peace[108], "the bloody nose America suffered in Mogadishu…was to have far-reaching consequences."[109] He continues that "as genocide broke out in Rwanda, the Security Council bickered for eight months before sending even a moderate force to the capital of Kigali."[110]

 

Canadian Major-General Romeo Dallaire contends that hundreds of thousands of lives could have been saved if his plea for more troops had been listened to. "Meanwhile", Lewis concludes, "the Clinton administration, which had come to office espousing 'assertive multi-lateralism' changed tack and set tough new criteria for US participation in and support for new peacekeeping operations."[111]

 

In fact, according to Thomas Marley, US military adviser at the State Department,[112] intervention in Rwanda was predicated on the belief that it would cost votes. He maintains that "one official even asked the question as to what possible impact there might be on Congressional elections later that year, or the administration, to admit that it was genocide taking place in Rwanda, and yet be seen to do nothing about it. The implication", he continues, "was that this would potentially cost the administration and President's political party votes in the Congressional elections." Asked what it told him about "the political leadership", Marley contended "it indicated to me that the calculation was based on whether or not there was popular pressure to take action, rather than taking action because it was the right thing to do."[113]

Conclusion

It is generally very difficult to relate to the deaths of ten people, let alone half a million. When the ten Belgian soldiers were killed in Rwanda, I remember how grief-struck their relatives were, and recall the extent to which some of the wives of the soldiers expressed their justified anger. The fact that the soldiers had been ambushed whilst doing their job, did not help the wives' sympathies towards the Rwandans at all -- and probably, it is understandable.

Nevertheless, it is impossible to write, or speak, about Rwanda without feeling some vestige of emotion -- be it anger, frustration, sadness, or a little bit of all three. Kinloch writes that "Rwanda is a paradigm of the kind of situation the United Nations should be prepared to face in the future."[114] He is very right.

The legacy of Rwanda remains disturbingly vivid -- even five years on. The United Nations, designed to protect and uphold its laws -- particularly that of its conventions, in the case of Rwanda, performed a woefully inadequate task of saving the victims from the killers.

As for the other Western nations -- France, Belgium, the United States -- they effectively gave the killers of a small African nation free berth to wipe out their own people with ferociously murderous intensity and speed.

The brutality of the killings is enough to stomach. However, to have prevaricated when the victims most needed them, and have refrained from acting adequately through the United Nations, will remain for some time to come, one of the cruellest acts of indifference in the history of the late twentieth century.

Most of these statesmen at the time of the genocide knew and understood that there exists a clear distinction between good and evil. They must therefore have known that in 1994, a heinous act of evil was being committed, and that they, as the good guys, had a moral obligation as well as power to stop, or at least, curb it. Yet, they did nothing, preferring to stand aside and watch it happen.

This is not to say that these leaders intentionally wanted to act as by-standers to genocide. However, their failure and categorical reluctance to do anything at all to avert the mass murder taking place, coupled with their relentless desire to save face at all costs, speaks volumes of the true nature of the political leadership of the time when the genocide broke out.

These men, like you and me, understood and knew that evil would always triumph when "good men do nothing"[115] Yet, what they had not realized, was that it included good men like themselves.

Rwanda3.doc/winword795/ekbII/15599/w:5327:17