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For a society transitioning from genocide, striving for a stable democracy, is it ever appropriate to limit the civil liberties of its citizenry—such as the freedom of speech—for the sake of public safety and security? Can people living in a post-genocide society be re-educated and taught to reject the identifying labels they have carried their whole lives?
If human beings celebrated each others' differences and always approached one another with respect, this website on transitional justice would not have been necessary. But genocides can be the result of one group stereotyping and dehumanizing another, often based on skin color. In the case of Hutus and Tutsis in Rwanda, this dehumanizing process was taken to its worst possible extreme. And so, how to deal with difference in a post-genocide society becomes not merely a complex question, but one that could mean the difference between peaceful co-existence and another genocide. |
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If you were to ask a Rwandan today, “what is your ethnic identity?” the answer would be very different from what it was prior to the genocide in 1994. At that time, one’s ethnic identity—whether they were Tutsi, Hutu, or Twa—determined life opportunities and, for many, whether they would live or die. Ethnicity, in this case, did not refer to differences in language or religion, cultural preferences or history. Ethnicity was used to mean “race,” that elusive construct that has so bedeviled much of the world. In other words, whether one was Hutu, Tutsi or Twa was not a choice. It was fixed—something perceived to be in one’s blood and something that would be passed on to one’s children.
The idea of race is a relatively new one. Germany was the first colonial power to “own” Rwanda as property. They were awarded Rwanda at the Conference of Berlin in 1884 (where there were no Africans present) but lost the country just over thirty years later in the Treaty of Versailles. Through the Treaty, Belgium gained control of Rwanda, and it was the Belgian colonial administrators who brought race science to Rwanda.
Historically, Hutu, Tutsi and Twa were used to differentiate people based on social structure. Hutu, the majority of the population (85 %) were farmers and Tutsi (15%) were cattle owners. Relations between the groups were fluid—intermarriage was common and the groups lived together, side by side. The difference between the groups was not thought of as a biological difference but as a social one.
When the Belgians arrived, they came armed with ideas of superiority and inferiority based on race science. They applied these ideas to what they saw when they arrived in Rwanda. Therefore, they responded to the superior position that they believed Tutsi occupied in society and they made a connection to what they believed were physical differences between the groups. Stereotypically taller and thinner, the Belgians saw Tutsi as more “European,” another difference that would make Tutsi superior in their eyes. With the power of the colonial state behind them, these administrators placed Tutsi in the most influential positions in Rwanda. They also spread their beliefs regarding racial science by integrating these ideas into public policy including education and law.
As a symbol of their belief that race was a fixed identity and that one could be identified as a member of a particular race, the Belgians issued identity cards with a photograph and a racial distinction for every Rwandan. These identity cards would continue to be used as evidence of identity for all Rwandans long after Belgian rule ended. (Click here to see an example of an ID Card.)
During the genocide of 1994, the identity cards were regularly used to identify people in order to kill them. Not really able to “tell” whether someone was Hutu or Tutsi by just looking, the perpetrators asked to see identity cards to make sure that someone was Tutsi. In addition, because Rwanda is such a small country and because it has historically been so highly administered, ethnic identity would be a known factor—teachers regularly asked students what they were in school, one had to report their ethnicity in order to get a license for their car, and so on.
A decade after the genocide, the Rwandan government outlawed ethnicity. The government offers re-education camps to teach citizens to live in a country without specific ethnic divisions. Columbia University Law Professor Michael Dorf comments on these policies:
Two key features of Rwanda's effort to stamp out ethnicity would be highly problematic in stable democracies: first, Rwanda is creating re-education camps where people are trained in the “correct” way to think of their fellow citizens; second, Rwanda will prosecute those guilty of a vague crime called “divisionism.”
“Divisionism” has, as its core application, the fomenting of ethnic violence. But critics charge that it can also be used as a means by which the party in power stamps out even legitimate opposition.
These means, then, are more extreme than one would expect in a democracy. Yet they are different only in degree, rather than in kind, from measures that have been taken in other parts of the world.
Although “re-education camps” suggest images of grim conditions and totalitarian thought police, the notion of re-education itself is perfectly appropriate in the aftermath of a horrific regime. Allied forces in Germany following World War II sought to “deNazify” the country through education, and even today, in Iraq, should the nation be pacified, an education program of deBaathification can be expected.
Likewise, although the constitutional protection for freedom of speech in the United States protects even the teaching of the inferiority of some groups of persons, most constitutional democracies rule certain forms of political expression out of bounds.
Again, the German example is instructive. Article 21 of the German Constitution permits the banning of political parties that undermine “the free democratic basic order” in Germany. That would include, of course, the Nazi party, as well as other groups that hold similar beliefs. The differences between understandings of political freedom in the United States and Germany are, not surprisingly, shaped by historical context. The same is true for Rwanda.1
M, a Rwandan survivor, thinks that the new policy is a good one. She believes that too much was made of difference in the past and that this is a chance for Rwandans to start over. K, another survivor, however, is not so sure. He says that everyone uses these terms informally so they will not go away. Still, he acknowledges, after the genocide, change has to start somewhere so that identity does not count too much. But, he wonders, is this the way?
Connections for the Classroom...
- What do you think? In a society where hardly more than a decade ago, hundreds of thousands of innocent people were murdered based solely on their “race,” the notion of “outlawing race” seems like a possible solution worth exploring. Draw a line down the center of a page in your journal. In the left-hand column, list all the positive aspects of the Rwandan government's proposal to “outlaw race.” In the right-hand column, list problems or challenges to consider with such a policy. Remember that you are thinking specifically about the challenges and opportunities for Rwanda, not your own country. Would your plan for reconciliation and healing in Rwanda include this policy?
- Think about the country in which you live. Do you think the notion of race and ethnicity could, or should, be "outlawed" in your own country? Why, or why not? What do you think might be the consequences and outcomes of such a policy?
- For more information, see the New York Times article, A Decade After Massacres, Rwanda Outlaws Ethnicity.
1 “Can Ethnic Hatred be Eliminated by Eliminating Ethnicity? The Rwanda Experiment,” by Michael Dorf. FindLaw. April 14, 2004.
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