Regional
Never Again And Genocide Denial Can’t Coexist
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The
genocide denialist movement, buoyed
by powerful international actors, has been on the resurgence for
the last half-decade, and every year, it has been pushing the envelope in what
is increasingly becoming a staredown with the government, with almost everyone
now waiting to see who will blink first. The latter has the upper hand for
various reasons, mainly that decent Rwandans, across ethnicities, have been
speaking out against the despicable denial and are very angry at the
authorities for dillydallying and appeasing the denialists when they should be
enforcing the law. The denialists’ audacity to denounce Kwibuka crossed the
line and, as a result, things might not be the same again for this movement, at
least inside Rwanda.
It
is also intellectually shallow. On Youtube, where this movement has
proliferated, it has made a number of fallacious claims that don’t stand up to
scrutiny. One of such claims is that genocide commemoration (Kwibuka)
undermines the unity of Rwandans because it only preserves the memory of “one
side” and that for genuine unity “both sides” should be remembered during the
period that was set aside for commemoration starting on April 7. Moreover, that
either “both sides” are remembered or we do away with remembrance altogether
because the occasion serves as a periodic reminder to Hutus about the crimes,
they committed in 1994, and that, as long as there was forgiveness, such
reminders should cease to exist. Indeed, that ending commemoration would help
society “move on” and leave the genocide behind us. While we are at it, they
say, we should also dismantle genocide memorials for similar reasons.
The
denialists are mad. For starters, genocide perpetrators, deniers, and their
sympathisers cannot determine the terms of reconciliation and unity. Second,
the word memory is preceded by a silent word, which is “collective.” It is
factually true that genocide was perpetrated against the Tutsi; however,
collective memory (not Tutsi memory) belongs to all Rwandans – Hutus, Tutsi,
and Twa. Its aim is to cultivate collective consciousness around the tragedy as
a means of preventing recurrence of genocide, and it is this collective
ownership of the problem that reassures survivors of their safety and serves as
the basis for genuine reconciliation without which unity is not possible.
Third,
the idea that forgiveness requires forgetting is a fallacy. Only unrepentant
genocidaires and their sympathisers, with a vested interest in the recurrence
of genocide, would find commemoration and memorials problematic precisely
because in collective memory they identify a threat that is direly linked to
their lives and ambitions. On the contrary, forgiveness is not necessary where
there is no demonstration of remorse. Indeed, there is no remorse where there
is a commitment to recidivism, and the feeling of being inundated by
commemoration is proof of underserved forgiveness. Moreover, it is absurd to
expect that the feelings of genocidaires and their sympathisers could be prioritised
over those of survivors and the rest of society.
Unrepentant
perpetrators and genocide deniers are relentless because memory is evidence for
their crimes, crimes of genocide and crimes of genocide denial respectively. By
attempting to erase the collective memory of crimes of genocide, they seek to
tamper with the crime scene, among other strategies such as creating ambiguity
around genocide by invoking related concepts like civil war that carry lesser
moral opprobrium than the society’s condemnation they are facing. Indeed, it is
memory and remembrance that compelled some perpetrators to show remorse and
give indications as to where their victims were buried. It is, therefore,
memory and remembrance combined with remorse on the part of perpetrators that will
contribute to genuine reconciliation.
Moreover,
unrepentant perpetrators and their sympathisers seek to drag the entire Hutu
community into their own predicament. For instance, forgiveness was extended
only to perpetrators of genocide who showed remorse; it wasn’t the community
they belonged to that stood accused of genocide. It’s a fact beyond debate that
perpetrators were brought before community courts (Gacaca Courts) presided by
Rwandans from all ethnic backgrounds and that the testimonies denouncing their
crimes were given by the community of Rwandans as a whole, including their own
relatives. Therefore, the idea that genocide commemoration targets Hutus as a
community is false. It simply fits a narrative of genocide deniers who have
attempted to criminalise
the entire Hutu population as a means of evading their own
responsibility, as well as the political elite who seek to exploit the group.
Therefore,
Rwandans don’t remember to condemn
Hutu guilt or to affirm Tutsi righteousness as the denialist
movement claims when it aims to distort through ambiguity and, as a result, to
evade accountability – moral and legal. In fact, this is not different from
1994 when leaders openly told people that, in the act of “self-defense,” if all
of them took part in the killing, no one would be held accountable.
A
crime like no other
The
1948 United Nations Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of
Genocide defines genocide as any “acts committed with intent to destroy, in
whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group.”
In
the context of Rwanda, only the “ethnical” part is relevant since no other
defined groups were targeted during the 1994 genocide. Accordingly, the
government of the day identified the Tutsi as the ethnic target group to be
destroyed; an intent made evident by the genocidal massacres that marked the
period from October 1990 to April 1994, and executed countrywide over 100 days
starting from the 7th of April, 1994.
Genocide
deniers, unlike deniers of the Holocaust, suggest that the genocide
commemoration in Rwanda should remember both Hutus and Tutsis because “both
sides” lost people. In Kinyarwanda, they say: “impande zombi zarishiwe.” They
apply, without context, President Kagame’s acknowledgement that Hutus died in
1994 as justification for their genocide minimisation tactics.
This
is equivalent to saying that the Holocaust commemoration should recognise the
Jews and Germans who died in 1945 because “both sides” lost people. Of course,
Germans died in 1945. Hutus also died in 1994. However, if we pursue this line
of thinking, it means that the concept of genocide would be discarded. Instead,
it would be the concept of “civil war” that is at play. However, it is a fact
beyond debate that, just like the Holocaust happened in
Germany and throughout Europe during the World war II, a genocide against the
Tutsi took place in Rwanda in 1994.
Indeed,
Raphael Lemkin conceived the concept of genocide to ensure that the moral
implications of “civil war” and genocide are not equivalent. Why should it be
so? The answer, Lemkin argued, is that genocide is the crime of crimes with the
highest moral opprobrium and whose victims are targeted without an option to
“exit death” since they cannot denounce their ethnicity in order to get a
reprieve from the killers. This was demonstrated by the last words of a
three-year-old boy who was among those who had taken sanctuary in Nyamata.
“Please do not kill me. I’ll never be a Tutsi again,” the child pleaded with
his killers, offering to denounce his ethnicity, which he rightly had
identified as the cause of the predicament he had found himself in (Sinzongera
kuba umututsi!).
In
the international system, the primary responsibility to protect the people
within a state jurisdiction falls on the government. However, governments are
the central perpetrators of genocides and holocausts. For this reason, in cases
like Rwanda, the occurrence of genocides demonstrates a deliberate intent of
the government to target a section of society. In so doing, the targeted group
comes under the protection of humanity. This is why genocide is a crime against
humanity.
The
failure of humanity to carry out this responsibility explains the commitment to
“Never Again!”, which implies acceptance of the shortcomings, assurance that
lessons have been learned, and commitment on the part of humanity that the
community of nations will not be repeat offenders. The subtext of this is that
humanity is prepared to allow other tragedies (civil wars and the like) to
happen – but never genocide!
“Never
Again” goes hand in hand with the concept of genocide. The former expresses the
moral commitment against the recurrence of the latter. There is no point
in pointing to a danger that no one is prepared to do anything about – like
screaming fire in a movie theatre, but everyone continues watching the show!
Responsibility
to protect genocidaires
Denial
laws are in place in Europe and in Rwanda because of the tendency of human
beings not to learn lessons. Consequently, this human limitation in collective
memory is what makes genocide denial laws necessary as the first line of
defense against the recurrence of genocide. Accordingly, the responsibility to
protect starts well before the actual killings begin because, as history tells
us, once genocide fires have started, it is already too late to save lives.
These laws are supposed to prevent the future need for humanitarian
intervention, which is the last resort in the responsibility to protect – when
all else has failed.
Further,
genocide denial serves as proof that lessons have not been learned and the
recurrence of genocide is possible, even likely, depending on the proliferation
of the denial. Genocide denial laws, therefore, should be conceived as the
internal mechanism to the principle of responsibility to protect, the
activation of the latter following the failure of the former to reign in the
slippery slope to catastrophe. In other words, never again, genocide denial
laws, and the responsibility to protect are inextricably linked.
The
stakes are high in Rwanda because the resurgence of genocide denial is linked
to a concerted effort by powerful external forces that are convinced that
President Kagame has “overstayed” in power and that he should be replaced, even
if it is by someone from the denialist movement. However, the moral
reprehension attached to this movement forces its foreign supporters to conceal
their real aims under the guise of promoting dissent.
They
believe that the only way to force Kagame out is through public incitement and
that a sensitive subject that touches on almost everyone in Rwandan society,
like genocide, would be the spark of his removal by a popular uprising. In
other words, the support for the denialist movement is not accidental, even the
methods used aren’t.
But
they underestimate the consensus of Rwandans, Hutu and Tutsi, against genocide
– even those who would otherwise not support Kagame. Moreover, and this is
important, Rwandans know that when push comes to shove, foreigners run away
with their dogs and leave the natives to sort themselves out. The genocide
against the Tutsi in 1994 was on the backdrop of the political context of the
early 1990s when foreigners were pushing for a form of democratisation that
gave free reign to extremist radios, such as RTLM, to incite people to kill one
another.
When
the incitement got out of hand and genocide was happening, the US government
refused to jam the RTLM airwaves because doing so would undermine freedom of
speech. In other words, then and now, in the western conception, freedom of
speech and dissent supersede the responsibility to protect African lives. Even
when they acknowledge in their own countries that Holocaust denial represents
hate speech, which is unprotected under freedom of speech, they choose to legitimise
genocide denial when it comes to Rwanda because, in their view, it is the straw
that will break the camel’s back of a stubborn regime.
But
if denial is unhealthy for European democracy, it ought not to be prescribed to
Africans, either. The irony, therefore, is that these powerful external forces
have taken up the responsibility to protect unrepentant genocide perpetrators.
Consequently, it is incumbent upon those who disproportionately suffer the
consequences – the affected – to decide whether to bring meaning to “Never
Again” or to join others, for whom what they are promoting has no effect on
their lives, in the sloganeering. In other words, it is well and good if
the unaffected choose not to learn a lesson, but it is abominable that those
who have been in the fire forget its heat.
Source: www.panafricanreview.rw