rwandan genocide – UAB Institute for Human Rights Blog

Getting a Mental Detox in Rwanda

This Sunday 7 April is the International Day of Remembrance of the Victims of the Rwandan Genocide.

I decided to study the Rwandan genocide after attending the Institute for Human Rights conference entitled, “Bystanders and Complicity in Nazi Germany and the Jim Crow South.” Rwanda, viewed as a trophy of the African “mission field” by many in Western Christianity, shocked many onlookers in the period during and after the genocide as it became obvious that Christians had killed Christians. Moreover, many estimate that most Rwandan Genocide victims were killed in churches, an assertion that stimulated my interest. The Rwandan Genocide differs from other genocides because religion did not serve as a demarcation to target victims as “other.” Most people in Rwanda identified as Christian, and the religious affiliation did not coincide with ethnic identity.

Last summer, I tagged along with a group of teachers and professors who were passionate about using education to prevent genocide. This was a first step in developing my thesis: Stories from Rwandan Churches Priot to the Genocide: A Collection of Oral Histories. The travel group knew one another from collaborating with the Holocaust Museum, and they held great affection and esteem for Carl Wilkens, our group leader. Wilkens backstory, as described on his website, is this:

As a humanitarian aid worker, Carl Wilkens moved his young family to Rwanda in the spring of 1990. When the genocide was launched in April 1994, Carl refused to leave, even when urged to do so by close friends, his church and the United States government. Thousands of expatriates evacuated, and the United Nations pulled out most of its troops. Carl was the only American to remain in the country. Venturing out each day into streets crackling with mortars and gunfire, he worked his way through roadblocks of angry, bloodstained soldiers and civilians armed with machetes and assault rifles in order to bring food, water and medicine to groups of orphans trapped around the city. His actions saved the lives of hundreds.”

With this experience, one might not be surprised that Wilkens has chosen to position himself as a force for peace and as a catalyst to stimulate people to seek to become integrated beings with emphasis on respect, empathy, and inclusion.

I had expected to cultivate empathy and understanding and to gather context and information, but I had not considered the idea that this trip with teachers would provide space for some mental detox. I had heard Rwanda described as a country with gorillas and genocide, but I saw a place where the government exceeded expectations in the context of health care and infrastructure. Ranking among the 20 poorest countries in the world, Rwanda is a place of paradox. When our group gathered in the small white bus outside the Kigali Airport, I first sensed that this would be different than I had expected. Carl Wilkens presided over our discussion as we rode to the hotel that would be our home for the next 11 days. Wilkens urged us to harness the power of gratitude to rewire neural circuits and reminded us that since negative thoughts stick like Velcro, one must intentionally attend to the task of noting the positive.

Early on the first day, to fulfill Wilkens’ charge, our designated facilitator, a teacher from Nebraska, urged us to think about “The Good Life,” the motto for her home state. As the group shared visions of a good life, I noticed that already, just twelve hours in Rwanda, we had erased default notions of acquisition or competitive achievement as core building blocks in “The Good Life.” Instead, people cited nature, learning, and human connectivity as the essence of a good life.

Gratitude underpins the curriculum for Mindleaps, a thriving multinational NGO designed to empower children who come from the most impoverished homes. Mindleaps collaborates with the Gisimba Training Center, a repurposed orphanage that was featured in Wilkens’ book, I’m Not Leaving. This was our first stop on the Carl Wilkens Tour. Once a child is accepted to Mindleaps, she has the opportunity to have a noon meal, wear a special uniform, receive school supplies, learn digital literacy (as an enticement to learn English), attend academic enrichment classes, and have her mother participate in a parenting-strengthening program (fathers are often away seeking work). Oh, and the best part is the child learns to dance very well. Dancing gives the children confidence and a sense of personal achievement that will be key to developing skills to thrive.

I visited the home of a seven-year-old student who regularly walks alone to Mindleaps — a three-quarter mile jaunt down a hilly tangle of dirt roads that are jam-packed with huts. Her home has no electricity or plumbing and only a patchy tin roof. Her mom comes to the parental-enrichment class regularly. The strategies used by Mindleaps are being tested by a tracking software program to provide a nuanced evaluation of the children in the areas of memorization, language, grit, discipline, teamwork, self-esteem, and creativity. For me, the visit to the Mindleaps gated compound was a transcendent experience. I saw excellence, bright colors, simple food, and a tidy vegetable garden. A swarm of smiling students wanted to touch and thank each one in our group.

Holistic, abundant living combines heart and head. So far, this time in Rwanda has allowed me to peel off barnacles of language and worldly possessions and notice feelings of gratitude and love. Watching the children and teachers leap in grand plié’s to Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” consolidated my embrace of Rwanda’s Mental Detox. Rwandans have embraced the ethos of gratitude. The security detail at the entrance to the parking lot of Hotel Des Mille Collines paused from the task of pushing mirrors on long handles under incoming Land Rovers (to check for bombs) and greeted our group of pedestrians on foot. He said, “Thank you for visiting our hotel.” Street merchants, airport personnel, gardeners, cooks, and administrators said variations of “Thank you for visiting our country.”

As the old saying goes, “You won’t remember what they said, but you will remember how they made you feel.” In Rwanda, I feel loved and appreciated.

Covenants without the sword: International humanitarian law (IHL) and sexual violence

by LISA SHARLACH, PhD

Miss Jiuliancheng and the Russian soldier (Kyûrenjô no heiki). Source: LOC Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division 2009630462.

**Trigger warning: this blog speaks about sexual violence against women.

How do we stop sexual violence in civil war? My goal is not to offer a comparative assessment of various tactics to stop war rape. Instead, I look at the ineffectiveness of one particular tactic – law, both domestic and international. In the mid-1600s, Thomas Hobbes wrote that “covenants, without the sword, are but words, and of no strength to secure a man at all”. Unfortunately, even today, international law and, to a large degree, domestic law on rape in conflict have not had the backing of the proverbial sword of justice. No legal code condones rape, whether in war or peace. Regardless, as I demonstrate in the book manuscript I am completing, the international community and individual states’ willingness to prosecute the crimes has been lacking. The end result has been near-complete impunity for wartime rapists.

This topic is not one limited to academia. The London Summit of 2014 increased popular awareness of the problem of wartime rape. Grassroots activists and transnational human rights organizations, such as Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, have amassed country-specific information on sexual violence and, in their words, “demanding accountability” from governments. These are positive steps, but insufficient. Condemnation alone has not stopped mass rape. For example, newspaper and television stories, human rights watchdog organizations’ reports, and U.N. General Assembly resolutions all condemned the political use of rape by ethnic Serbs in Bosnia-Herzegovina in the early 1990s. However, none of this prevented Serbian soldiers and paramilitaries from using similar rape warfare tactics against ethnic Albanian women and girls in Kosovo in 1999.

The book I am finishing focuses on few case studies of mass rape: Bangladesh; Cambodia; Guatemala; Peru; Bosnia-Herzegovina; Rwanda; and India. (Rapists may, of course, target anyone, but the preponderance of these attacks have been upon women and girls). I assess patterns and the scope of rape in these conflicts, and the miniscule numbers of convictions that courts and tribunals were able to secure for the rapists thereafter. That only an infinitesimal fraction of rapes in the conflicts were ever prosecuted, much less convicted, sends a message to combatants today that they, too, most likely will be able to rape, if they so desire, without fear of punishment.

Bangladesh, Cambodia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, and Rwanda have tried or are trying sexual violence through international tribunals and/or truth commissions; the process has been expensive and ineffective. In these countries’ civil wars combined, hundreds of thousands, perhaps even a million, rapes took place. Only a couple of hundred sexual violence cases ever actually appeared before an international tribunal in all these countries combined, and the numbers of convictions is, of course, even lower. The total number of rapes or other episodes of sexual violence in these countries that went to any sort of trial at all is approximately seven thousand. The vast majority of these appeared in Rwanda’s informal gacaca courts, and a sizeable number were tried in the national courts of Bosnia-Herzegovina. The percentage of the seven thousand or so trials that resulted in conviction of the rapist is unknown. When there are only a few thousand convictions for hundreds and hundreds of thousands of rapes, the unintended message sent by the tribunals to militants around the world is that they can almost certainly rape – and get away with it.

This finding is likely to make one despair of the value of international law in convicting wartime rape. Unfortunately, the lesson learned from the case studies concerning the efficacy of national courts in this regard is that they are no better. In India, Peru, and Guatemala, advocates have used the national court system to try to win justice for survivors of mass rape. Guatemala and Peru have each convicted two of the men determined to have raped in those countries’ protracted, Cold War-era “dirty wars.” In India, only a few men have been found guilty of rape during the 2002 communal violence in Gujarat. (Throngs of Hindu-nationalist men gang-raped hundreds of Muslim women, most of whom they burned to death immediately thereafter. Their incineration, a Hindu funerary ritual, precluded a Muslim burial – and also destroyed forensic evidence, which in India is necessary to prosecute most instances of rape. The only Hindu women similarly attacked had Muslim husbands). In sum, one may count on one’s hands the total number of men found guilty of raping during the riots in Gujarat, India and the wars in Guatemala and Peru combined, even though these instances of mass rape transpired at least fifteen and most often not quite forty years ago.

At present, legal covenants, whether domestic or international, are clearly an ineffective deterrent to rape in conflict. The question of what might be a better deterrent is a subject open for much-needed discussion. It is likely that Thomas Hobbes would suggest that “the sword,” or military might, is required, as law – words on paper – is meaningless without it.

In some instances of genocide or gross ethnic/racial inequality, such as during apartheid in South Africa, international actors have, in conjunction with domestic forces, deemed a violation of the norm of sovereignty to be warranted. Third party governments, coalitions, or armies have intervened and stopped the killing, and, in the case of South Africa, pressured the white oligarchy to give up its monopoly on political power. Why should instances of gross sexual inequality – resulting in mental trauma, bodily injury and even death — matter less?

In recent history, there has been no international intervention intended specifically to protect women’s human rights, although mass rape has been used by governments as additional legitimization for a military campaign that was already underway for other reasons. An example is President George W. Bush’s frequent allusion to Saddam’s alleged “rape rooms” as one justification for the U.S. invasion. We do not know that these “rape rooms” ever existed; Bush ceased referring to them after the photographs of sexual violence at occupied Iraq’s Abu Ghraib prison became public. We are all familiar with the rape accompanying the wars in Syria and in South Sudan; with the kidnappings and sexual slavery perpetrated by ISIL and by Boko Haram; and with the daily femicides, or sexualized murders, of women in Central America for which almost no one is ever charged, much less convicted. And, to date, world leaders seem helpless to stop such increasingly open and aggressive sexual violence. As long as the international community demurs that violence against women is of little consequence, a cultural practice, a matter of course or of nature, an unfortunate side-effect of ethnic rivalry, a domestic rather than an international problem, not a threat to our vital security interests, or a private affair, then the use of rape as a political weapon is likely to continue and perhaps even to increase.

Lisa Sharlach is an Associate Professor of Government and the Director of Women’s and Gender Studies at the University of Alabama, Birmingham. She received her Ph.D. from the University of California, Davis, in political science. The focus of her research is the intersection of ethnicity, gender, and political violence.

The Silenced Women of the Rwandan Genocide and their Fight to be Heard

Trigger warning: this blog references graphic physical and sexual violence. Please do not read if easily affected by these topics.

On Thursday, September 21, the University of Alabama at Birmingham’s Institute for Human Rights and UAB’s Women’s & Gender Studies Program hosted the screening of the documentary: The Uncondemned. The film explores the challenges and triumphs of a group of fledgling lawyers, investigators, and Rwandan women during a trial after the Rwandan Genocide. From their juridical victory, the legal definition of genocide was expanded to include acts of rape.

Background

Over the course of four months in the summer of 1994, roughly 800,000 Rwandan citizens were massacred in the east-central area of the country. The ethnic majority of Rwanda, the Hutu, murdered most of the Tutsi minority in an attempt of “ethnic cleansing” as a result of ethnic and religious tensions between the two groups. This decimation of the ethnic Tutsis became known as the Rwandan Genocide.

Skulls of the victims of the Rwandan Genocide lined up — Death – Rwandan Genocide

On April 6, 1994, a plane carrying General Juvenal Habyarimana, a moderate Hutu leader, was shot down by an unknown assailant. All the passengers on the plane crashed to their deaths, including the Burundian president, Cyprien Ntaryamira. Rumors place blame on the extremist Hutus for the murder as part of a revolt against the power-share agreement Habyarimana agreed to sign in accordance with the Tutsis. Another argument blames the Tutsis in the crash, using the act of terrorism as an attempt to regain power in Rwanda. Almost immediately after the plane crash, the murder of the Tutsi people began. Extremist Hutus began slaughtering Tutsis and moderate Hutus by setting up roadblocks and raiding homes. Radio stations ran by the extremists were encouraging civilians to attack and kill their neighbors.

The church played a significant role in the division among the Hutu and Tutsi. Hutu pastors preached on how “the war should be brought to the Tutsi, because they will come to wipe us away.” The church taught to kill their Tutsi neighbors as they claimed the Bible designated the Tutsi as their mortal enemies. During the genocide, not even the churches were safe. Hutu militiamen raided them and murdered anyone seeking refuge there. Pastors often trapped those hiding in the churches and alerted the Hutus.

The genocide was as horrifying as it was dehumanizing. Not all Hutu fighters had access to guns or even machetes, and much of the genocide was conducted using simple weapons such as sharpened sticks, large rocks, and common household items such as forks and knives – making death slow and painful. According to the film, bodies could be found in every village and on every hill. Its simplicity and scope earned it the title as the “most efficient genocide in modern history.” The first reconnaissance mission conducted by the United Nations (UN) reported one thousand Tutsi were killed in twenty minutes when the investigators first arrived.

Tragically, women endured gender based violence during the genocide. The total number of rape survivors will never be known, however countless women testified to being raped during the genocide. Stories of rape, whether gang-raped or with objects, are consistently mentioned. If they were not killed after being raped, the women were sold into sex slavery or forced into marriage. Additionally, they were traded among groups of men for them to sexually abuse them. Once the men were “done” with them, their reproductive organs were gruesomely mutilated with machetes, knives, bare sticks, or even acid. After pleading with her rapists to kill her, one woman testified they responded: she was to be kept alive so she would “die of sadness.”

The film shows the use of rape as a psychological weapon to strip the humanity from more than just the individual Rwandan woman. The rapists wanted to both degrade larger groups of women the rape survivors were a part of and as a means to assert their superiority and population control. Throughout the history of armed conflict, women often become the targets of sexual violence– this is a common weapon used in larger crimes against humanity, such as genocide. Whether it comes in the form of physical abuse, rape, mutilation, or sex slavery, being a woman becomes a risk factor – no matter the age, religion, ethnicity, political affiliation, or any other characteristic outside of biology. Niarchos concludes rape is used to inflict terror and force cooperation, both on the female survivor and others in her close community. In Rwanda’s case, rape was used to humiliate Tutsi women and terrify the community as a whole; making the suffering of Tutsi women a violent means to the Hutus’ political end.

The UN declared rape as a war crime in 1919, however in cases prior to the Rwandan Genocide, rape was never prosecuted in this manner. In Resolution 1820 that was adopted by the Security Council at its 5916^th meeting, of the UN Security Council noted “women and girls are particularly targeted by the use of sexual violence, including as a tactic of war to humiliate, dominate, instil fear in, disperse and/or forcibly relocate civilian members of a community or ethnic group.” The International Criminal Tribunal of Rwanda (ICTR) was the first time rape was pursued as a war crime and was the first tribunal enacted since World War II. The film, The Uncondemned, tells of the efforts taken by the UN to connect rape to genocide. The documentary focuses on the case the mayor of Taba, Jean Paul Akayesu, who was the first to face charges of inditement over genocide – including rape.

The team of lawyers sent by the UN was ambitious but inexperienced. Most were in their 30s, recently graduated from law school, and were taken to task by gathering intelligence to prosecute this case that was like none before it. More importantly, they deduced they must prosecute it in a way that laid the groundwork for future cases – setting legal precedence.

Woman praying in front of others. — Woman Praying – Rwanda by Brice Crozier

Doctor Odette Nyiramilimo of Le Bon Samaritain Clinic in Kigali was one of many doctors who said almost every woman and adolescent girl who survived the Rwandan Genocide was raped. As she examined victims immediately after the genocide, she asserted that at least two cases of rape were coming in each day to her clinic. As mentioned before, the exact number cannot be known, which is due to a number of factors such as the stigmatism that surrounds rape. Across the globe, rape survivors are shamed and seen as guilty for the violent crimes committed against them. Eisler asserts this is especially prominent in societies that value men over women. Fear of reprisal compromises the reporting of rape, and this is particularly true in the case of Rwandan survivors. Bernadette Muhimakazi, a Rwandan women’s rights activist in an interview with Human Rights Watch, states many of the women were afraid to say anything because they know who their perpetrators are. These women know exactly who killed their families and who violated them. In many cases, these women live in the same community as their perpetrators.

“Women here are scared to talk because it was their neighbors who raped them.”

– Bernadette Muhimakzai

Prior to the visibility the tribunal brought, rape was viewed as a negligible outcome of war. The testimonies of the Rwandan women changed this perception, and rape was legally billed as a true war crime. The team the UN pulled together to prosecute this case proved to be successful in their endeavors, and justice prevailed; Akayesu was convicted of crimes against humanity and acts of genocide. The film concludes with rape survivors coming forth to name their rapists. While their sense of inner peace may never be fully restored, the tribunal gave the women a sense of justice and vindication.