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Structural Violence and the Struggle for State Power in Rwanda: Why ‘Conflict Resolution’ and Other External Interventions Have Made Things Worse

Andy Storey

Paper for presentation at the PSAI Annual Conference, 8-10 October 2010, Dublin Institute of Technology

Introduction

Between April and July of 1994, 800-850 thousand people were slaughtered in Rwanda (Prunier, 1995: 265). The vast majority of the dead were members of the minority Tutsi ethnic grouping, and the evident intent to wipe out the Tutsi as a people renders this a clear case of genocide. The genocide was planned and implemented by a ruling clique organised within the state apparatus, and members of the majority ethnic grouping – the Hutu – were also killed if they were seen as opponents of this clique, despite the fact that they shared the ethnicity of the genocide’s organisers. Since 1994, violence has continued in central Africa – inside Rwanda itself and, especially, in neighbouring Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC, formerly Zaire) where millions of people have died – and this will be discussed later in the paper.

The 1994 genocide occurred despite the existence of a peace and power sharing agreement (the Arusha Accords) to which all parties to the conflict had ostensibly subscribed, and despite the presence of a small UN peacekeeping mission despatched to help implement that agreement. The immediate trigger for the onset of the mass killings was the shooting down of the plane carrying the Rwandan president, Juvenal Habyarimana, an event that is clouded in mystery as to the motivations and identities of those responsible (see below). While such a dramatic incident might derail even a firmly entrenched peace deal, the fact that the Arusha Accords played no role whatever in restraining the violence is nonetheless striking. This paper seeks to address the failings of the Arusha peace and power sharing process. I will argue that the Arusha process was more a part of the problem than it was part of any putative solution because it heightened tensions within élite circles and provided a channel through which aspirant élites could pursue their dangerous goals. Nor were matters helped by the duplicitous and sinister role played by the French government.

However, even more fundamentally, the Arusha process, rooted as it was in power sharing modalities between various élite and aspirant élite actors, failed to tackle the most pressing problems of Rwandan society: chronic and worsening poverty; entrenched and intensifying inequality; institutionalised racism; the denial of people’s dignity and self-respect; a pervasive sense of impunity in the context of egregious human rights abuses; and the oppressive presence of the state in all aspects of societal life (Uvin, 1998: 45). This disastrous cocktail– creating what Uvin (1998) calls a situation of ‘structural violence’ – laid the basis for mass participation in the genocide of 1994. Far from helping solve these problems, international intervention – in the form of economic ‘structural adjustment’ that ran parallel to the Arusha negotiations – worsened the situation, as the penultimate section of this paper will demonstrate. Finally, the paper will look at post-genocide Rwanda and how the legacy of the Arusha Accords has, amongst other devices, been used to legitimise new forms of repression at the same time as the abuse and violence inflicted upon ordinary Rwandans (and their neighbours) has been intensified. First, however, we must begin with an outline of the historical, economic and political context within which these events occurred.

Rwandan history: power and ethnicity

The question of ethnicity

Rwanda is a very small, landlocked country in central Africa, about the size of the Irish province of Munster or the US state of Maryland. However, its relatively large population size – approximately 7.2 million before the genocide and growing by more than 3 per cent per annum – made it the most densely populated country in Africa (World Bank, 1994: 1; Uvin, 1998: 180). In the early 1990s, Rwanda was amongst the ten poorest countries in the world in per capita income terms; approximately 95 per cent of its population lived in rural areas, with 90 per cent engaged in agriculture (World Bank, 1994: 1).

Prior to 1994, Rwanda’s population consisted of two main, indigenous ethnic groups – the Hutu, who accounted for approximately eighty-five per cent of the population, and the Tutsi, who accounted for most of the remaining fifteen per cent (with the Twa group accounting for probably less than one percent).[1] The two main ethnicities have, for as long as recorded history, lived side by side, eaten the same main staple foods (beans, bananas, cassava and potatoes), spoken the same language (Kinyarwanda), practiced the same cultural rituals, and shared membership of ethnically cross-cutting clan, kinship, religious and neighbourhood groups (Van Hoyweghen, 2000: 2). Despite these commonalities, the two groups are usually seen – by themselves and by others – as separate and distinct peoples.

Rwandan history is a deeply contested site of struggle (Van Hoyweghen, 2000: 3). There is a fair degree of consensus around the idea that ‘Rwanda itself, as a country, began to take shape in the 16th Century with the full political institution of kingship, a gradual expansion of its territory and an increasing centralization’ (Goyvaerts, 2000: 172), and that this process of state formation was intensified under the centralising and expansionary reign of King Rwabugiri between 1860 and 1895, immediately prior to the advent of colonialism (Goyvaerts, 2000: 160). By this time, ‘Power in Rwanda was unified and centralized around the person of the king and his court’ (Hintjens, 2001: 28), often identified as ethnically Tutsi in character.

The Tutsi (associated with a pastoral lifestyle) are frequently portrayed as invaders who came from the Horn of Africa and imposed a harsh autocratic régime, with a monarchy at its apex, on the earlier arriving Hutu (usually associated with cultivation of the soil). A version of this history emphasises claimed differences of racial origin, portraying Tutsi as of ‘Nilotic’ stock and the Hutu as ‘Bantu’, with the Nilotic Tutsi arriving as conquerors of the Bantu Hutu (Takeuchi, 2000: 181). However, other assessments indicate that all of the different groups may have arrived in migratory waves over many centuries, and that theories of conquest must be abandoned (Takeuchi, 2000: 185).[2] Some go so far as to suggest that the terms Hutu, Tutsi and Twa referred more to social status than to ethnicity in pre-colonial times, and point to the existence of 18 separate clans that all contained Hutu, Tutsi and Twa members (Hintjens, 2001: 27-8). For Goyvaerts (2000: 157, 168), Hutu and Tutsi referred to occupational categories within a ‘fairly integrated society’ that was ‘essentially harmonious’, being based on relations of exchange principally centred on cattle and land.

According to this latter version, while the Rwandan king was always drawn from a Tutsi lineage within the Nyiginya clan (Takeuchi, 2000: 190), other important positions – especially that of ‘land chief’ (Goyvaerts, 2000: 170) – were filled by Hutu notables, whilst many Tutsi, like their Hutu counterparts, remained outside the world of power and privilege (Takeuchi, 2000: 198). When Hutu assumed important positions within pre-colonial society, they may have become ‘honorary’ Tutsi – indicating a degree of social mobility (Goyvaerts, 2000: 172-3) – but we cannot be certain of this because we do not even know for sure ‘to what extent this Hutu [or Tutsi] identity was deemed important’ (Takeuchi, 2000: 194). And in parts of the country, especially the north-west, Hutu rulers enjoyed large measures of autonomy from the rule of the royal court; in this part of the country patron-client relationships operated within the Hutu group rather than between Tutsi and Hutu (Takeuchi, 2000: 189).

Colonial rule

The German colonial administration was established at the end of the nineteenth century and was succeeded by that of Belgium after the end of World War I (Pakenham, 1991: 671-2).[3] Both German and Belgian administrations exploited the hierarchical structure of Rwandan society as a mechanism of indirect rule, with a certain stratum of Tutsi deployed as a colonial ruling class, as ‘junior clerks in the juggernaut that was the civilising mission… as both instruments and beneficiaries of colonialism’ (Mamdani, 2001: 27). Hutu kingdoms in the north-west of the country that had previously enjoyed a measure of autonomy were brought under the control of the central Tutsi court with the military assistance of the colonisers, and Hutu chiefs throughout the country were replaced by Tutsi at the instigation of the colonial powers (Van Hoyweghen, 2000: 4). Whatever fluidity had previously existed in the system was greatly restricted as a system of ethnic identity cards was introduced (in 1933) and ethnicity thus became a strict (patrilinear) inherited characteristic (Hintjens, 2001: 30). Post-independence regimes continued to use these ethnic identity cards until after the genocide in 1994.

Hintjens (2001: 29-30) identifies other salient features of colonial rule:

‘relations of clientship between Hutu and Tutsi lost any voluntary quality they might previously have had; clients were no longer able to escape to another patron if they were dissatisfied with their existing one. Belgian colonial rule also introduced a cash-crop economy into Rwanda, which displaced the barter and gift economy of traditional feudal society… Whilst consolidating Tutsi aristocratic hegemony, the German and especially the Belgian colonizers undermined the material basis for the kingdom, in the shape of relations of reciprocity, duty, protection, military service and dealing with disputes. Forced labour was increasingly geared towards colonial infrastructure projects, including roads, buildings, terracing and cash-crop production. Monarchic rule thus gradually came to be identified with a system of sharp repression and economic exploitation; the Tutsi themselves rather than the Belgians appeared to be the agents of colonization’.

Tutsi were systematically favoured in employment and education and accorded the status of a superior ‘race’. These ‘new theories of racial origins were propagated in schools, seminaries and in official documents’ (Hintjens, 2001: 30). Mamdani (2001) lays particular emphasis on this ‘racialisation’ of Tutsi identity, the way in which the colonial powers legitimised Tutsi rule by invocation of the claim that Tutsi were not indigenous to the country, that in fact they were a superior race originating from the Horn of Africa or further north. This idea was first propounded by the explorer John Henning Speke, in 1864, who argued, on the basis of perceived physical characteristics, that the Tutsi represented a superior civilisational form that had arrived in the region from Ethiopia (Takeuchi, 2000: 181). Bizarrely, this idea also extended to believing that the Tutsi were descended from Ham (a son of Noah) – the theory came to be described as the ‘Hamitic Hypothesis’ (Taylor, 1999: 55-97). This conception of Tutsi non-indigeneity, and racial superiority, would first be used to justify Tutsi rule (in effect, colonial rule through the Tutsi) and, later, in part, to justify their extermination.[4] Before and during the 1994 genocide, regime propagandists urged their followers to send the Tutsi ‘back’ to Ethiopia by dumping their bodies in the north-flowing Nyabarongo river (Prunier, 1995: 171-2).

The post-colonial period

The run-up to independence (in 1962) saw a reversal of the colonially imposed order, with some Hutu seizing control and beginning a series of pogroms against the Tutsi population. This reversal had at least partial support from the Belgian colonial authorities who were by now fearful of the perceived anti-colonial radicalism of the Tutsi élite, and who saw a small, emerging Hutu élite as more appropriately conservative successors to colonial rule (Hintjens, 2001: 31). Some 20,000 Tutsi were killed and an estimated 40-70 per cent of the Tutsi population fled Rwanda between 1959 and 1964 (Mollan, 1996: 8). Those Tutsi driven into exile – many of whom grew up in refugee camps in Uganda – became the source of a rebel movement, the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), which was to attack the régime in 1990, demanding the right to return to the land they and/or their parents were expelled from.[5] Those Tutsi who remained in Rwanda after 1962 were the subject of discrimination in education, employment and other areas; their status is summarised by Prunier (1998: 120) who describes Tutsi after 1962 having:

‘settled into a form of second-class citizenship… Their employment in the public sector was limited; they were forbidden to join the army;[6] Army officers were forbidden to marry Tutsi wives; and Tutsis generally had to respect a 9 per cent quota in any given professional branch. Their non-participation in politics was a tacit understanding. But apart from crisis periods, the ordinary Tutsi peasants were pretty much left alone as long as they did not have to deal with the administration. The better-educated Tutsi often chose the professions, business and the Church because these occupations allowed them to escape government harassment’.

According to Prunier (1995: 76), ‘some well-known Tutsi businessmen had made fortunes and were on very good terms with the regime’.[7] Tutsi were also well represented in the staff of international aid agencies, as indicated by a review of German aid to Rwanda: ‘in the majority of projects and organisations, the proportion of Tutsi considerably outstripped their proportion of the population’[8] (Schürings, 1995: 496; see also Mamdani, 2001: 139-40). Given the huge – by Rwandan standards – salaries and privileges available to those working in this sector, this Tutsi ‘over’-representation fuelled resentments and jealousies (Braeckman, 1996: 105). Of course, business success or access to jobs with international organisations only applied to a relatively small section of the Tutsi population – the vast majority remained peasant farmers – but it was sufficiently noteworthy to attract comment and resentment, and therefore provide a basis for an ethnic scapegoating strategypursued in the run-up to the genocide (Storey, 2006; Eltringham, 2000: 18).

The post-colonial régime was initially (during the so-called First Republic) dominated by Hutu from the south of the country, but from 1973 onwards (formally entitled the Second Republic) power became concentrated in the hands of a northern Hutu élite under the leadership of President Habyarimana, who took power in a military coup. Habyarimana nominally accepted Tutsi as an indigenous ethnicity, albeit a historically privileged one against whom a measure of discrimination (through, for example, quotas in education and employment) was accordingly justified. This (partial) acceptance of a Tutsi right to belong in Rwanda did not, however, extend to those Tutsi in exile.

‘Although officially his policy was described as one of national unity and ethnic reconciliation, Habyarimana’s ideas on the conduct of public affairs did not differ fundamentally from those of his predecessor. Although a system of quotas for the participation of Tutsi in public life was now formally introduced, the Rwandan state maintained its basic mono-ethnic character and the general ideology on the role of the Tutsi was not substantially altered. As long as the Rwandan economy prospered, a number of Tutsi were tolerated as entrepreneurs in the economic and commercial sector but key positions in the army, the diplomatic service or the world of finance were denied to them’ (Gorus, 2000: 182).

Whatever the truth of Habyarimana’s claimed or perceived commitment to ethnic reconciliation, his totalitarian credentials were impeccable. He instituted a single-party state, with every citizen an automatic member of that party – the Mouvement Révolutionnaire National pour le Développement (MRND).[9]

‘The MRND organised umuganda, or weekly communal public labor, to build bridges, improve roads, and terrace hillsides, as well as animation, regular loyalty rituals to demonstrate support for the state and regime. Habyarimana created parallel state and party structures that reached down to the most local level to facilitate monitoring and control of the population. Social organisations were almost entirely subsumed by the party, which organised women’s and youth groups, published its own newspaper, and controlled radio broadcasts’ (Longman, 1999: 342).

This was ‘a political system that held the vast majority of its population [Hutu and Tutsi] – its rural population – in the grip of myriad local authorities whose powers were literally unlimited and unaccountable to any but their superiors… this tightfisted dictatorship combined administrative, executive, legislative, and judicial powers’ (Mamdani, 2001: 152). The role played by those who sat at the apex of this power pyramid – the northern élite, the so-called akazu – was central (see below).

Following the RPF invasion in 1990, the régime’s repression of the local Tutsi population intensified. These human rights abuses are discussed further below. The war itself was mostly fought in the north of the country. The RPF had invaded from Uganda – where most of them had lived in exile – and they retained support bases across the border. Many had previously been members of Yoweri Museveni’s guerilla army in Uganda, and had then become members of the official Ugandan army when Museveni took power in Uganda in 1986. So they possessed both substantial military capacity and contacts, their former comrades in Uganda remaining broadly supportive of them throughout their attempt to capture ‘their’ country of Rwanda (Prunier, 1995). After being initially repulsed by the Rwandan army, the RPF regrouped and undertook a prolonged guerilla campaign involving sporadic offensives from their northern bases and occasional (short-lived) captures of large towns. They were contained, in large part, by French military support for the Habyarimana regime (discussed further below). However, the RPF found little in the way of popular support inside Rwanda (from Tutsi or Hutu).