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CHAPTER 2

Rwanda: The Failure of “Never Again”

We in the United States and the world community did not do as much as we could have and should have done to try to limit what occurred in Rwanda in 1994…. We must have global vigilance. And never again must we be shy in the face of evidence.

We will not deny that, in their greatest hour of need, the world failed the people of Rwanda.

The genocide in Rwanda in 1994, which claimed around 800,000 lives, illustrated the failures of the international community in the post-Cold War world. Yet, as much as anything, it was the response that did occur—and in particular the role of humanitarian action—combined with this failure and the resulting conflict in neighboring Zaire, which was an even more significant legacy. As will be clear, it is difficult to address the first two conflicts that are the subject of the present and following chapters—Rwanda and DRC/Zaire—separately. To a significant extent, one begat the other. Rwanda, which was ignored by the international community, became the watchword for “never again!” while DRC/Zaire exists below the global radar, even though the death and devastation eclipses the Rwandan genocide.

This chapter will briefly discuss the origins of the genocide in Rwanda and the global context in which the genocide occurred. It will examine how the failure of the international community to respond to the genocide and adequately deal with the humanitarian and security aftermath led directly to the conflict in the DRC/Zaire. It will look at how the emerging responsibilities played out. It was failure in Rwanda that helped set the scene for the development of R2P. Yet before R2P there was the “never again” norm, which structured how the international community talked about the genocide, even if it had little effect on the response. The creation of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda helped set the scene for the eventual establishment of the ICC, but in Rwanda demonstrated the problematic nature of international justice mechanisms. But it was the humanitarian response that led to much soul-searching on the part of humanitarians and raised significant questions about the role of humanitarianism in the midst of conflict.

Heading Toward Genocide

The early 1990s were a period of hope internationally. The Cold War had ended, the UN was no longer deadlocked, conflicts such as those in Namibia and Mozambique were being settled, and the UN began to flex its muscles a bit more as it expanded peacekeeping operations around the world. Yet this optimism was soon dashed as the UN failed for three years to adequately address the spreading conflict in the former Yugoslavia and also failed to bring to an end the fighting in Somalia, which began in 1991 and continues to this day. The Rwandan genocide has been covered in exhaustive detail elsewhere.¹ Rather than going over old ground, the discussion below will highlight details that are salient for the ensuing analysis of competing responsibilities and pinpoint how the international community’s failure to deal with the genocide and its aftermath led directly to a much bigger crisis.

In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries Rwanda was controlled by Germany. After World War II, control of Rwanda was transferred to Belgium. As part of their strategy to control the population, the Belgians manipulated and reified previously fluid identities, resulting in two major groups—the minority Tutsi who ruled over the majority Hutu (as well as a much smaller group of Twa). Rwanda has experienced multiple instances of genocide and other conflict since it became independent of Belgium in 1962. Many Tutsi fled the country, in fear of the Hutu majority regime that took power at independence. Genocide occurred in 1963, and more Tutsi fled to neighboring countries—in particular Uganda—with more fleeing in 1972. In 1973, Juvénal Habyarimana, a Hutu, took power in a coup.²

In 1990, Tutsi militants in the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF)—many of whom had been trained and incorporated into the Ugandan military—invaded Rwanda. This failed, at least partly because France and Zaire sent forces to protect the government. Killing of Tutsi followed, as did further incursions from Uganda.³ An RPF attack in February 1993 led to renewed negotiations in Arusha, Tanzania, eventually resulting in a peace agreement (the Arusha Accords) and the creation, later in 1993, of a UN peacekeeping mission—the UN Mission in Rwanda (UNAMIR), led by Canadian general Roméo Dallaire.⁴ General Dallaire had originally planned for 8,000 troops, although the eventual number agreed on was 2,548. This was due to reluctance on the part of the United States and UK to fund yet another mission, with 80,000 troops in 17 UN peacekeeping missions already deployed, and with the U.S. responsible for one-third of the peacekeeping bill. Furthermore, the failure of the U.S. in Somalia made the U.S.—and the UN—more skittish about robust peace operations. They were worried about crossing the “Mogadishu Line” from peacekeeping to peace enforcement. Both UN and U.S. reviews of peacekeeping led to criteria that would constrain the use of force in UN operations, and thus delimited the possible boundaries of UN peacekeeping operations, including Rwanda.⁵ The U.S. initially wanted a token force of 500 troops, but eventually relented to a certain extent, allowing a large, but still inadequate, force to be created.⁶ The mandate of the mission was to support the transition to democratic governance. However, UNAMIR was severely underequipped and undersupported from the start, lacking a full complement of troops, key equipment such as helicopters and armored personnel carriers, desks, and chairs, and money to pay the troops.⁷

Map 2. Rwanda, Map No. 3717 Rev. 10, June 2008. United Nations.

On 11 January 1994, Gen. Dallaire sent a cable to the Secretary-General’s military adviser in New York, informing him that the Hutu leadership was planning to engage in mass killings against the Tutsi population,⁸ and indicating that he intended to seize weapons being stockpiled for the genocide.⁹ He was told not to undertake this activity, and the cable disappeared into the ether.¹⁰ UNAMIR’s second in command, Luc Marchal, said the “Mogadishu Syndrome”—the reluctance to engage in robust peacekeeping activities in the wake of the disastrous U.S. mission in Somalia in 1993 (also known as the “Somalia Syndrome”)—explained this inaction.¹¹ On 3 February, Dallaire was told that he could monitor action by the police to investigate reports of, and seize, arms caches. He would have to inform the government, and since members of the government were complicit in the planned genocide, they were given plenty of warning of any operations, and the arms caches were never found.¹² He also informed U.S., French, and Belgian diplomats. The first two countries dismissed the threat, while Belgium argued for more robust preventive measures, which came to nought.¹³

Three months later, on 6 April 1994, President Habyarimana’s plane was shot down. There is great speculation as to who was responsible; most point to Hutu militants,¹⁴ although Tutsi leader Paul Kagame has also been accused.¹⁵ Kagame was cleared in a 2012 French report.¹⁶ This event provided the shock that started the genocide. The killing of Tutsi by Hutu extremists—the interahamwe—started immediately. On 7 April ten Belgian peacekeepers, who had been sent to protect the prime minster, were killed. Belgium decided to pull out its peacekeepers on 12 April.¹⁷ There were calls in the Security Council to pull UNAMIR out entirely,¹⁸ even though Dallaire had asked for more troops to reinforce his dwindling force. At one point he estimated that 4,000 troops would have been sufficient to stop the killing and protect hundreds of thousands of lives.¹⁹ On 10 April he requested 5,000 troops and a more robust mandate. By this time, while not using the word genocide, he realized that widespread crimes against humanity were being carried out, with 50,000 people killed in four days.²⁰ An independent report looking back at the events argued that 5,000 troops could have saved 500,000 lives, more than half the estimated 800,000 killed in the ensuing three months.²¹ Indeed, nineteen years later, President Clinton admitted that the United States could have saved at least 300,000 people if it had intervened.²² The president of the Security Council that month, Colin Keating from New Zealand, appealed for a robust response.²³ Reports were sent by Gen. Dallaire and others detailing the killing.²⁴

The pleas fell on deaf ears. Iqbal Riza, deputy to Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPKO) head Kofi Annan, questioned whether peacekeepers should be involved in protecting civilians.²⁵ The U.S. had little interest in Rwanda, which was strategically unimportant. It did not want to send in its own troops, and it did not want to fund yet another expanded peacekeeping operation with a much more robust enforcement mandate. Not wanting to commit to anything, it indicated from the beginning that the UN was the best place to address the situation. At the UN, it argued for pulling out of UNAMIR.²⁶ The UK, too, was little interested.²⁷ The French, who were deeply implicated in supporting the Habyarimana regime and had strategic and culture interests in Rwanda, did not want to support any action that might in the end support the English-speaking RPF, which had immediately entered the country to stop the genocide of its co-ethnics.²⁸ Western countries did, however, send in forces to evacuate foreigners, a task with which UNAMIR had been authorized to assist.²⁹ On 13 April, the RPF sent a message to the president of the Security Council describing the situation as genocide,³⁰ invoking the Holocaust.³¹ Nigeria, which sat on the Security Council, wanted UNAMIR to be able to act more robustly, a suggestion that went nowhere.³²

The Security Council took its first action on 21 April. It did not withdraw UNAMIR. Neither did it reinforce it. Rather, it decided to draw UNAMIR down to a force of 250 troops to negotiate a cease-fire, assist humanitarian operations, and “monitor and report on developments in Rwanda.”³³ Observe is what it mostly did. With so few troops and a weak mandate, its hands were tied. The members of the Security Council were well aware of the implications of their (in)action.³⁴

After the genocide, there were denials from U.S. and other officials that they knew what was going on at the time—a denial repeated by President Clinton four years later during his apology to Rwanda³⁵—although it was revealed in 2004 that the Clinton administration was aware of a “‘final solution to eliminate all Tutsis’” significantly before the genocide began.³⁶ Alan Kuperman argues that the earliest President Clinton could have known that genocide was occurring was 20 April.³⁷ While this may or may not be true, what is true, first, is that diplomats and policymakers in a number of important countries and the UN knew there was widespread killing happening that beyond “mere” political killings—crimes against humanity. Second, President Clinton—and other leaders—did not ask the questions necessary to determine exactly what was going on. President Clinton never convened senior advisers to discuss the situation.³⁸ Third, there was a concerted effort to avoid the term genocide.³⁹ When asked whether genocide was happening in Rwanda, a U.S. State Department spokesperson indicated (weeks later, on 10 June) that “acts of genocide” had occurred,⁴⁰ even though the U.S. National Intelligence Daily for 23 April, a classified document that would have been distributed to several hundred government officials—and thus contained information which Clinton would have had access to—noted an “‘effort to stop the genocide, which relief workers say is spreading south.’”⁴¹ Oxfam used the word genocide on 28 April in a public statement,⁴² and by the end of April, Dallaire was using the term.⁴³ The ICRC issued a statement indicating that “‘whole families are exterminated … the cruelty knows no limits,’”⁴⁴ claiming that 100,000, and as many as 300,000, people had been killed.⁴⁵ Amazingly, Rwanda was allowed to keep its seat on the Security Council and participate in discussions. On 29 April, Ambassador Keating, along with ambassadors from Argentina, Spain, and the Czech Republic, tried to get the Security Council to release a statement indicating that genocide was occurring.⁴⁶ On 17 May the Security Council passed Resolution 918, which used the language of the Genocide Convention but did not use the term genocide itself.

This is a clear indication of the force of the word. If one uses awkward verbal constructions such as “acts of genocide” or refuses to use the “G word” altogether, one is obviously trying to avoid the implications of using the word. To use the word would be to acknowledge responsibility—which would bring one under pressure to act. Indeed, as a paper prepared by the Office of the U.S. Secretary of Defense stated on 1 May: “Be careful. Legal at State was worried about this [using the term genocide] yesterday—Genocide finding could commit [the U.S. government] to actually ‘do something’.”⁴⁷ Although a State Department spokesperson indicated that the Genocide Convention did not have an “‘absolute requirement’” to intervene, there was worry that this was the expectation. Here we see the clear working of the “never again” norm, the precursor to R2P. U.S. policy-makers felt there would be an expectation on the part of the public that the U.S. would live up to this perceived requirement. This was the last thing they wanted to do. So they manipulated and twisted words. The norm put pressure on policy-makers to act, but the action they took was perverse. The situation was denied, obfuscatory language was used, responsibilities were avoided. The “never again” norm was so powerful that when this norm collided with perceived state interests, policy-makers denied reality. There was recognition that people were being killed in Rwanda, but it was put down to civil war, tribalism, political killings, deep-seated ethnic hatred—in other words, the usual story from Africa.⁴⁸ But instead of making the case to stop the killing, the Genocide Convention was used to prevent such action. As long as the situation was not called genocide, there was no political downside to not reacting. Such is the status of genocide as the über crime that all other crimes can be made to pale in comparison. The Genocide Convention provides a shield against having to take action against “lesser” crimes. On June 10, the same day as the infamous “acts of genocide” briefing by a State Department spokesperson, Secretary of State Warren Christopher finally said that “If there is any particular magic in calling it genocide, I have no hesitancy in saying that.”⁴⁹ Indeed, there is magic in the term, and it can be stripped of its power by the simple act of avoiding the term.

The media did little to put pressure on the Security Council to act. It was portrayed as tribalism—age-old ethnic hatreds which flared up periodically and which the international community could do little about.⁵⁰ Even when the New York Times identified it as genocide on 23 April, it concluded that little could be done.⁵¹ The Guardian agreed.⁵² Other newspapers had little interest in covering the story as a result of “compassion fatigue.”⁵³ As Edward Girardet argues, “it took the concept of genocide”—again that magical incantation—“the deliberate destruction of human life based on ethnic, racial, or religious discrimination—to convince most editors finally to cover the story.”⁵⁴ Even this less than helpful coverage was short-lived. The momentous elections in South Africa, which signaled the end of apartheid, took place and the world’s press corps moved en masse to South Africa to cover the elections and the inauguration of Nelson Mandela.⁵⁵

At the same time, the Pentagon discussed the possibility of blocking the the broadcasts of Radio Mille Collines, which had been advocating and facilitating the genocide. This would not have stopped the genocide, but it might have slowed it down. But even this was too much; instead, one senior Pentagon official advocated for contributing to food relief.⁵⁶ On 4 May UN Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali called Rwanda a genocide, calling for intervention.⁵⁷ On 11 May the ICRC delegate in Rwanda, Philippe Gaillard, told the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights that 250,000 people had been killed.⁵⁸ On 13 May, Gen. Dallaire submitted a report to the Security Council asking for an additional 5,500 troops.⁵⁹ This was authorized four days later, with a mandate to protect civilians.⁶⁰ This was just authorization; deployment depended upon a further report by the Secretary-General. Ambassador Keating called the resolution a “sham.”⁶¹ Indeed, UNAMIR II would not be deployed until after the genocide had ended and the RPF had taken control.⁶²

On 24 May, the French minister for human rights, Lucette Michaux-Chevry, used the term genocide.⁶³ On the same day Warren Christopher finally authorized use of the term genocide—if in an incoherent, muddled way.⁶⁴ A report by the Secretary-General to the Security Council finally recognized Rwanda as genocide.⁶⁵ This, however, did not lead to any swifter response. Dallaire wanted to create safe areas in Rwanda to protect civilians. The United States wanted to engage in “outside-in” protection—creating safe areas on the borders with Rwanda, thus obviating the need for military intervention in an ongoing genocide.⁶⁶ The U.S. offered fifty armored personnel carriers (APCs) stored in Turkey. However, they arrived after the genocide ended without guns, radios, manuals, and spare parts. The UK offered old trucks in return for a significant amount of money (the demand for money was eventually rescinded).⁶⁷

The one even somewhat robust military response came, eventually, from the French. Through its Opération Turquoise it deployed in excess of 2,500 highly trained troops from the French Foreign Legion. This was completely separate from UNAMIR—indeed, there was little consultation with Gen. Dallaire.⁶⁸ France got the go-ahead from the Security Council on 22 June—after the vast majority of people had been killed. The week before, Foreign Minister Alain Juppé said, “We have a real duty to intervene in Rwanda…. France is ready, with its main European and African partners, to prepare an intervention on the ground to put an end to the massacres and protect the populations threatened with extermination…. France will live up to its responsibilities.”⁶⁹

The question was which responsibilities he was talking about—those found in the Genocide Convention and the “never again” norm, or France’s ties to its Hutu clients? This was not made any clearer by Prime Minister Édouard Balladur when he stated, just days before the RPF took power, that “France has sent its soldiers out of a moral duty to act without delay in order to stop the genocide and provide immediate assistance to the threatened populations.”⁷⁰ It went in with lots of firepower—firepower Dallaire could have used earlier to protect people. Rather than going to areas where Tutsi were being slaughtered, the French went to areas where Hutu were being threatened by advancing RPF soldiers. While Prunier argues that perhaps 13,000–14,000 people were saved by Opération Turquoise,⁷¹ the action had little to do with stopping people from being killed in a genocide. Rather, it was about supporting a long-time ally. By protecting Hutu areas, the French troops protected the génocidaires and allowed them to escape to neighboring countries.⁷²

The RPF took Kigali on 4 July and declared a unilateral cease-fire on 20 July. The genocide was over. The international community had done nothing to stop it. This fact, and the manner in which it was ended, ultimately resulted in an even larger human conflagration in Rwanda’s next-door neighbor, Zaire.

Could the Genocide Have Been Stopped?

There is a debate about what the UN and states could have actually done to prevent or stop the genocide. A report to the Carnegie Commission on the Prevention of Deadly Conflict argued that 5,000 troops “could have made a significant difference in Rwanda.” The most pessimistic analysis, by Kuperman, argues that because of limitations in airlift capability, the international community could only have reacted fast enough to save at most 125,000 lives—calculated as 25 percent of an estimated 500,000 people killed.⁷³ There were plenty of warning signs that the situation was unstable and significant violence was possible. When UNAMIR was first created, the UN Security Council could have authorized a larger force with a more robust mandate. This would have required the agreement of Rwanda. A reflection of the “Somalia Syndrome” and a more cautious approach to peacekeeping and associated activities was to be found in Presidential Decision Directive 25⁷⁴ signed by President Clinton just weeks after the genocide began. The United States wanted to reduce the percentage of UN peacekeeping expenses it paid, indicating a financial imperative in limiting the extent of UN peacekeeping—and also more restrictive criteria for when the U.S. would support—and participate in—Chapter VI and Chapter VII operations.⁷⁵ Support by the U.S. and other countries for a large operation was not forthcoming. Michael Barnett argues that there were three other moments when the international community failed to act when it could have to prevent the massive loss of life: (1) when UN headquarters declined to allow UNAMIR to take more robust action against those suspected of planning a genocide; (2) failure of the Secretariat to provide significant information in its possession and argue for an early intervention based on that information; (3) Security Council refusal to authorize action in the weeks in April immediately after the genocide started.⁷⁶

Once UNAMIR began to be deployed, other warning signs became apparent. The 11 January “genocide cable” was only one of many points where relevant information was made available to the UN and other actors. This cable was shared with the ambassadors from the United States, France, and Belgium. Dallaire provided other information to UN headquarters. He was finally given the go-ahead to search for weapons, but given the restrictive terms of UNAMIR’s mandate, including that any such operations be done in cooperation with the police, few weapons were found. Again, the UN could have acted more forcefully on early warning information to prevent the genocide, but it did not. There was not sufficient interest on the part of key players.

Once the killing started, it was not possible to ignore the killing itself, but there were strenuous efforts to avoid recognizing the import of the killings. Portraying the killings as part of a civil war or age-old tribal hatreds seemed to make it “normal,” just one of those things that happens in Africa periodically. Beefing up UNAMIR would entail crossing the Mogadishu Line. Yet we also perhaps see the first glimmers of the working of the “never again” norm. This norm identifies genocide as the most egregious of all international crimes and creates pressure to act. The verbal contortions used to avoid using the term genocide represent simultaneously the moral pressure to intervene and the unwillingness on the part of most of the global power elite to actually do so. It was only once the term genocide started to be uttered from the mouths of those representing the major powers that there was discussion and action toward putting a beefed-up force into place, although the West was able to avoid any meaningful action since UNAMIR II was not deployed until August, and without proper support. The French Opération Turquoise, rather than reflecting the “never again” norm, was a reflection of pure national interest. The intervention came too late and was focused on protecting French allies. The French use of “never again” rhetoric illustrates the power of the norm—not to force timely action to stop genocide, but rather to enable non-normatively based action—that is, to serve as a cover for other action. It is only in the aftermath of the genocide that international norms began to peer above the parapet—if only briefly.

From Genocide to Humanitarian Crisis

By the time the genocide ended, the focus had moved from the genocide itself to the humanitarian aftermath. If the international community did not seem interested in stopping 800,000 people from being killed, it was much more worried about the large numbers of refugees generated by the conflict. The humanitarian crisis illustrated the dilemmas and dangers of responding to large-scale humanitarian situations.

The first mass exodus of refugees occurred in late April when 170,000 people fled to Ngara in western Tanzania in twenty-four hours. They kept fleeing, with an additional 500,000–800,000 fleeing to North Kivu in eastern Zaire on 14–17 July, after the RPF had taken control of most of the country.⁷⁷ These refugees were not Tutsi fleeing the Hutu génocidaires, however. Rather, they were Hutu fleeing the oncoming RPF fighters. In the end, more than two million Hutu refugees fled Rwanda to escape the RPF. About half of these fled to eastern Zaire, with the rest spread among neighboring countries—in particular Tanzania and Burundi.

These Hutus included génocidaires—those who had participated in the mass slaughter—and many ordinary Rwandans who played no role in the genocide. The reason why the former group fled is obvious—they feared what would happen to them if the Tutsi RPF caught up with them. The second group had more, and more complex, reasons for leaving. First, some, like refugees around the world, simply fled the brutal fighting. Second, they were afraid the RPF would indiscriminately go after any and all Hutu. This fear was exacerbated by propaganda put out by the génocidaires. Third, many Hutu were forced into refugeehood by their fellow Hutu, to serve as shields for the leaders who planned and executed the genocide. They were intimidated by the génocidaires. Further, the refugees stayed as a result of a defining feature of Rwandan society—pervasive top-down control and decision-making. The individuals were not used to making decisions on an individual basis; rather, decisions were made for them, as part of a group.⁷⁸ This combination of factors led to one of the central dilemmas of the crisis. How should humanitarians deal with humanitarian action that could possibly prolong or expand a conflict, or, alternatively, be used as an excuse for others not to engage in actions that address the situation?

Supporting Hope, Covering Up Inaction or Supporting Génocidaires?

Although the United States was loath to be involved in, or support, any effort to stop the genocide or protect civilians during the genocide, it did participate in a very significant—and public—if somewhat short-term, response to the aftermath of the genocide. By late July the story had moved from genocide to cholera. The camps in eastern Zaire were the perfect breeding ground for disease. At least 50,000 people died in Goma, Zaire, within a month after the mass exodus. J. Brian Atwood, the head of the U.S. Agency for International Development, described the situation as “chaos.”⁷⁹

Before discussing the actual U.S. response, let us pause to consider the import of these words. Apparently the mass murder of 800,000 people over one hundred days is not worthy of being called chaos, but the same number of people crammed into refugee camps, combined with disease, does rise to this level. The refugees are victims of “chaos.” They are not victims of the aftermath of the most intense period of mass killing the world has ever seen. This is the same as saying that “mistakes were made.” It passively depoliticizes the situation and avoids apportioning blame or responsibility. “Chaos” has no political antecedent; rather, it is a state of being that apparently arrives fully formed out of nowhere. Refugees died because of “chaos,” not because of disease that was the direct result of a mass exodus in the context of a genocide in which the United States and other actors refused to lift a finger. Further, “chaos” acquires a further descriptor—cancer—and the U.S. had arrived to provide palliation and possibly a cure. By preventing the cancer of chaos from spreading, it would prevent further death from the chaos. Yet, returning to the discussion in Chapter 1, we can see that Atwood had the diagnosis wrong. The cancer that was killing refugees was not “chaos”—the apolitical and meaningless term used when one wants to avoid a correct diagnosis. By treating the symptoms of the chaos—the United States and the rest of the world did not even try to treat the “chaos” itself—USAID and the U.S. military were global hospice workers engaged in superficial palliation. They kept some people alive permanently, while others were kept alive for a while, only to die as a result of disease once the hospice workers left, or at the hands of either the Hutu militants who were running the camps or the Tutsi-supported troops who came to eject them.

What did this palliation look like? Operation Support Hope⁸⁰ involved 3,000 troops—troops that might have been used earlier to stop the genocide, or might have been used to address the growing insecurity in the camps. Instead, they were used to help provide food and water and shelter. In 1994, the United States spent $231.9 million on humanitarian assistance for the region outside Rwanda (vs. $73.3 million within Rwanda). This assistance amounted to $242.2 million in 1994 and $177.9 million in 1996.⁸¹ The aid was brought in via highly publicized airlifts. On 22 July 1994, five days after the first cases of cholera were reported, President Clinton announced he would send troops to the region to help carry out the humanitarian mission. By the time U.S. troops left Goma on 25 August—just a month after they had arrived—the U.S. military had airlifted in massive amounts of equipment and aid.⁸² These actions undoubtedly saved many lives. But even if the war on cholera had been temporarily won by the U.S., as it supported hope, the suffering that was relieved was just a drop in the ocean of the suffering that had occurred and was yet to occur in Zaire.

Operation Support Hope was pure and unadulterated palliation. Given the speed with which the U.S. military responded to provide humanitarian assistance, it could have also deployed to protect people during the genocide. The United States used this very public operation to show the world that it cared and was doing something about the situation in the Great Lakes region. But it was just a mop-up operation, dealing with the loose ends—the “chaos”—after the genocide. Yet, the chaos was decontextualized and depoliticized. Furthermore, although Atwood called for war criminals to be tried, the U.S. troops had no mandate to arrest anyone. It was purely humanitarian: palliation but no prosecution, even though a few months later the U.S. would help set up an international court to try those who participated in the genocide. This palliation without prosecution had a devastating long-term effect. More than one million refugees were still in Zaire. Most would stay there for two more years, allowing growing insecurity to fester.

This large numbers of refugees allowed the approximately 50,000 former Rwandan soldiers of the Forces Armées Rwandaises (FAR) and militia⁸³ to hide out and organize themselves for a return to Rwanda to retake power. Exile was “the continuation of the war by other means.”⁸⁴ Former high-ranking officials in the Rwandan government, ex-FAR, and militia controlled the camps, prevented refugees from going back home, and organized the military actions that ultimately destabilized the border area and beyond.⁸⁵ The massive refugee camps provided cover for the génocidaires and those who wanted to regain power in Rwanda. Thus, a main responsibility for the leaders was to keep the refugees from returning. This task was facilitated in a couple of different ways. It was very hard for individual refugees and families to make the decision to return home, absent such a decision by the leaders, because of the collective decision making in Rwandan society. This situation was further reinforced by the propaganda spread by the leaders, which misrepresented the situation in Rwanda at the time.⁸⁶ While the new government might have wanted to marginalize the returning Hutus,⁸⁷ it was the Hutu leaders who were in the most danger. Yet, in order to scare the refugees, the situation was made to sound significantly more dangerous than it actually was.

The Rwandan government did not help the situation, however. There were contradictory statements regarding how and when the refugees should return. As the RPF consolidated its hold on power, it seemed that the Hutu population was being systematically marginalized, and the government was not making it easy for the refugees to return.⁸⁸ The RPF had engaged in massacres at the end of the war, and as one NGO worker observed, “Bodies appeared regularly in the Kagera River until May 1995, long after the RPF gained control of the country.”⁸⁹ Further, the Rwandan jails were overflowing with suspected génocidaires, and the refugee leaders were able to capitalize on this to demonstrate the danger of returning.⁹⁰ They were thus able to maintain and tighten their grip on the camps, which served as the staging ground for destabilization.

Early Efforts to Return the Refugees

Within a couple of months after the refugees left, it was clear to most of the main actors in the region that the refugees needed to return. The camps were likely to become destabilizing. It was also felt that reconciliation would be easier if the refugees returned sooner rather than later because there would be less time for further hate and suspicion of the refugees to develop within Rwanda. The debate revolved around when. UNHCR argued for an early return.⁹¹ On 23 July 1994, High Commissioner for Refugees Sadako Ogata stated that UNHCR wanted to encourage refugees to return.⁹² UNHCR offered to take a group of twenty camp leaders from Goma back to Rwanda so they could see for themselves the conditions the refugees would be returning to and report back to the camps. They refused—an indication of the resistance and defiance among the leaders.⁹³ UNHCR first tried to repatriate refugees from Goma on August 23. This was stopped by the militias and camp leaders. Yet many thousands of refugees did repatriate from Goma during the last part of 1994, accompanied by a Zairian security escort to the border. At the same time, UNHCR suspended its repatriation assistance to Rwanda in September because of alleged human rights abuses there.⁹⁴

Two issues permeated discussions within UNHCR about return. The first was the actual conditions in Rwanda. That is, was it safe for the refugees to go back? Conditions varied throughout the country, UNHCR did not have access to significant portions of Rwanda, and there was much contradictory information. It was thus hard for it to make a firm decision.⁹⁵ The second issue was that of the voluntary nature of the return. The principle of voluntary repatriation is generally recognized.⁹⁶ Yet, given the situation in the camps and the fact that the refugees, for the most part, were not able to make the decision to repatriate because of the intimidation and violence on the part of the militants, this principle took on new meaning. If the refugees themselves are not able to make the decision whether or not to return, almost by definition any returns, particularly on a large scale, will not be “voluntary.”

By October it was clear that the militants were expanding their organization and consolidating their grip over the camps.⁹⁷ That month, Ogata said: “The aim [of the camp militants] appears to be to control the refugee population, block their voluntary return to Rwanda and build resistance against the Government in Kigali.”⁹⁸ By the end of the year, some NGOs pulled out of Goma and Ngara in Tanzania because of the worsening situation. UNHCR considered this, although, as Dennis McNamara, director of the UNHCR Division of International Protection, stated: “the agency’s mandate and the humanitarian imperative of caring for the majority of vulnerable and needy civilians, women and children, made a withdrawal impossible.”⁹⁹ Both MSF France and the International Rescue Committee decided that the consequences of continuing to provide assistance—allowing the militants continued safe haven—overrode the humanitarian imperative.¹⁰⁰ The realization of the effect humanitarians might have turned out to be a significant turning point. While most other organizations stayed—including MSF Holland and MSF UK¹⁰¹—the debate about withdrawal highlighted how embedded the humanitarians were in the situation. One official from CARE UK suggested that CARE should continue to provide assistance only if the génocidaires were brought to justice, a somewhat naïve position given the reality on the ground in the camps, the lack of international support for separating out the génocidaires so they could be arrested, and the sheer number of those to be brought to justice. Another CARE UK official, however, disagreed, focusing solely on feeding people.¹⁰² This also led to a much wider debate about whether or not the humanitarian imperative could be absolute, and whether humanitarians need to focus more on the “do no harm” principle. While the debate at the time varied widely within and among NGOs, Fiona Terry identifies five main justifications used by NGOs to continue their work:

(1) humanitarian imperative;

(2) attempts to affect the way the camps were administered from within and minimize the aid diverted to militants through “résistance humanitaire”;

(3) focus on technical issues of relief provision, ignoring ethical issues;

(4) the “institutional logic” of NGOs, which prioritized the media coverage and funding that having a presence in the camps would generate;

(5) sympathy with the Hutu militants, in particular on the part of Catholic organizations.¹⁰³

The obvious first step was to separate out the génocidaires and militant leaders from the rest of the population. Various plans to accomplish this were floated as early as mid-August 1994, when the Zairian prime minister requested that 20,000 ex-FAR be relocated away from the border. When family members were included, the total number of people to be relocated climbed to 80–90,000. Identifying all the ex-FAR would have been problematic. This plan would have been very costly, estimated at $90 to $125 million (whereas it was estimated that the solution ultimately adopted cost only about 2 percent of what a full-fledged peacekeeping operation would have).¹⁰⁴ Furthermore, such an undertaking would have entailed deploying a significant number of troops. The international community showed almost no support for this, and by January 1995 the Secretary-General admitted defeat in his attempt to put such a force together. Further, he put the responsibility for addressing the security issue on UNHCR, thus abdicating the responsibility of the UN to maintain international peace and security to its humanitarian arm.¹⁰⁵ The palliators were asked to act as protectors, which of course they could not do.

A lesser option was then pursued—deploying a security force in the camps. Its mandate would not include separating extremists. Rather, its focus would be to maintain security in the camps for the refugees and make sure relief supplies could be distributed unhindered. However, it was hoped that the security force would undermine the hold the extremists had in the camps, making it possible for the refugees to make the decision to go home. This was the main reason UNHCR Goma requested this deployment. UNHCR negotiated with Zaire to create the Zairian Camp Security Contingent (ZCSC). Deployed in February 1995, it was comprised of 1,500 elite Zairian troops and paid for by UNHCR. The Zairian minister of defense referred to them as “‘Ogata’s troops.’” Yet, they were not, and could not be, under the command of UNHCR. While it could try to exercise influence in how the troops carried out their mandate, the orders came from the government. Obviously, however, the government wanted to be able to place the blame on UNHCR in case anything went wrong.¹⁰⁶ Furthermore, Ogata, as head of a humanitarian agency, did not have a mandate for controlling military forces of any kind. This abdication of its security role by the Security Council highlights the fact that UNHCR, and humanitarian actors more generally, are being called upon to carry out functions that they are not equipped to do and which are the purview of international security actors, like the Security Council. The international community had proven itself incapable of providing the support necessary for humanitarian agencies to carry out their work or, indeed, to obviate the need for humanitarian action in the first place. Furthermore, some felt that the ZCSC was a bad idea, precisely because it was not under UNHCR control, and when the war broke out, some of the troops fought, rather than providing protection to the refugees.¹⁰⁷ Although the ZCSC did arrest a few “small fry” leaders, most leaders, although known to the ZCSC, remained untouched by the force.¹⁰⁸ Further, the Zairian government provided resources to the militants, and rather than undermining their position, worked to strengthen it.¹⁰⁹ Given the lack of support from all quarters to separate the extremists, there seemed little prospect for a quick return of the refugees.¹¹⁰ A massacre of 2,000 people at the Kibeho internally displaced camp in Rwanda on 22 April 2005 (during which UNAMIR was ordered not to intervene, even though it had a mandate to protect displaced persons) further supported the militant’s arguments that it was unsafe to go back.¹¹¹

The first forced repatriation from Zaire occurred in August 1995. A Human Rights Watch report¹¹² in May 1995 stated that arms were reaching the militants, and Zaire felt implicated. Further, Security Council Resolution 1011 of August 16, lifting the arms embargo against Rwanda, directly contravened Zaire’s position in favor of continuing the arms embargo. Consequently, approximately 12,000–15,000 refugees were expelled from the Kivu region to Cyangugu and Gisenyi in Rwanda over several days, beginning 19 August.¹¹³ It is unclear why the repatriations stopped. One senior UNHCR official claims it was the result of international pressure.¹¹⁴ The head of the UNHCR office in Goma at the time maintains that the repatriation was not seriously supported by the central government and that while it might have instigated the repatriation, the local officials were on their own. Under these conditions, there was no way that the repatriation could be sustained, and on 20 August the forcible returns ended.¹¹⁵

Although the forced repatriation was condemned as a violation of human rights, and UNHCR could not support it because it contravened its mandate and other international law, some palliators saw it as a possibly positive development.¹¹⁶ There was relatively little violence, and the refugees, for the most part, seemed to move of their own free will. Yet, the hoped for momentum for further voluntary returns did not materialize, and some officials, particularly in Kigali, were coming to the conclusion that forced repatriation was the only way to get the refugees back. In other words, UNHCR should just allow this to happen, and then help the refugees when they were back in Rwanda. Some coercion, probably by Zairian forces, was necessary to break the stranglehold of the extremists to allow the refugees to make their own decision (although it was assumed most of them would decide to return).¹¹⁷

Soon thereafter, Zaire announced a deadline of 31 December 1995 for all the refugees to leave Zaire. UNHCR did not oppose the deadline, and was roundly criticized.¹¹⁸ Yet some felt that the only way to deal with the situation and allow the refugees to exercise what was assumed to be their preferred option to return to Rwanda was to, in fact, force them to exercise that option.¹¹⁹ This was, at least on the surface, a significant breach of international norms, and it was shocking that UNHCR would not vigorously oppose such an eventuality. Yet it also highlighted the difficulties and conundrums faced by humanitarian actors in a situation where the international community is not willing to act. The deadline came and went without the hoped for returns. On 26 November, after a meeting with former President Carter, President Mobutu Sese Seko announced the deadline was being suspended. The voluntary return of refugees, which had increased significantly during the previous month, declined precipitously.¹²⁰

The Return of the Refugees

Throughout the first part of 1996, other strategies were pursued. The Zairian government restricted travel on the part of refugees. Further, much economic activity was quashed by Zairian troops, including the closing of shops. This was very short-lived, however.¹²¹ The problem of repatriation appeared intractable. While attempting to implement voluntary repatriation, UNHCR Goma also followed another tactic. Recognizing that there was no prospect of the refugees returning to Rwanda soon, it decided to investigate another durable solution—moving those refugees who did not wish to go back to settlements farther from the border. UNHCR recognized that this would not be looked on favorably by Zaire. Further, it would undermine efforts to encourage voluntary repatriation. It would help the leaders gain greater control over the refugees and a firmer position within Zaire from which to mount their hoped for return to power in Rwanda. Yet UNHCR hoped that it might put more pressure on Zaire to arrest the leaders as it had promised. However, it was difficult to envisage the entire refugee population moving to new locations, and just moving the camps without addressing the issue of the militants would not help the situation. UNHCR considered moving some of the camps closest to the border away from the border to deprive the militants of easy access for their raids into Rwanda. One camp considered was Kibumba, which had a relatively weak internal structure. Many in Kibumba wanted to stay there because they had easy access to their interests, such as property, in Rwanda. UNHCR hoped that moving the camp would undermine the camp structure and induce many of the refugees to repatriate. In turn, it was hoped, this would build momentum for repatriation from other camps. Yet relocation could also have the effect of making staying in Zaire appear like a realistic possibility for the refugees, undermining UNHCR’s position that stability in the region could only be attained by the return of the refugees. Such a strategy would allow the international community to continue to abdicate its responsibility. In the end, none of these options were implemented.¹²²

At the same time, the security situation in eastern Zaire was getting worse. By October a widespread civil war had emerged in eastern Zaire as a result of an attempt by the government to expel approximately 400,000 local Tutsi—the Banyamulenge. The Banyamulenge, and other forces hostile to the Mobutu regime, constituted themselves as the Alliance of Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Congo-Zaire (ADFL) and counterattacked. The ADFL, which will figure prominently in the next chapter, was also supported by Rwanda and Uganda, who were concerned with ending the infiltrations from Zaire. As the ADFL swept through eastern Zaire, they attacked refugee camps, since they saw ex-FAR and militia as enemies and the camps as enemy bases. Thousands of refugees died, probably at the hands of all parties involved in the conflict—ADFL, ex-FAR and militia, and Zairian troops. And, from late 1996 onwards, all the major camps were emptied.¹²³

As the conflict spread, and the pressures on the refugees from many different quarters increased, it was clear that UNHCR was involved in a situation far beyond its normal operating parameters and that it could not hope to adequately deal with the situation. It was marginalized as events overtook its capabilities. The High Commissioner told UNHCR’s Executive Committee on October 7 that “probably never before has my office found its humanitarian concerns in the midst of such a lethal quagmire of political and security interests.”¹²⁴ Refugees fled before their camps were destroyed, and eventually all international aid workers were evacuated from Bukavu and then Goma by 2 November, thus losing access to information and the refugees themselves. On 7 November UNHCR called on the international community to raise a force to ensure humanitarian access. UNHCR supported the proposed, but ultimately doomed, multinational force.¹²⁵ The High Commissioner also encouraged the refugees to return in a radio address in October.¹²⁶