Journal articles on the topic 'Genocide – Sources – Rwanda'

AbstractSince assuming power after the 1994 genocide, President Paul Kagame and his political party, the Rwandan Patriotic Front, have struggled to unite Rwanda’s citizens using, among other initiatives, a simplified version of Rwandan history to diminish the ethnic tensions that made the 1994 genocide possible. As a result, Rwanda’s history has become highly politicized, with vastly divergent versions of the nation’s past narrated in private settings, where it is more politically appropriate for Rwandans to share their experiences. This paper focuses on divergent representations of Rwandan monarchical figures – often unnamed – whom the narrators imbue with values according to their individual political affiliations, lived experiences, and identity. These narratives are indicative of the broader ways that modern Rwandans narrate their experiences of history in response to Rwanda’s current official history, as well as previous official histories. Careful analysis reveals much about the current political climate in post-genocide Rwanda: most notably, that Rwandans continue to see their nation’s past through vastly different lenses, demonstrating the enormous challenges facing the Rwandan government as it seeks to reconcile its population using current methods. It also highlights the ongoing need on the part of historians to approach contemporary sources critically, informed by sources produced and debated in the pre-genocide period.

This article aims to examine Rwanda's foreign policy decision to join the British Commonwealth. Rwanda was former French colony and has historic association with Francophone countries. But the country decided to join the British Commonwealth in 2009. Using theory of foreign policy decision making, it argues that the shift of Rwanda’s foreign policy was caused by the political transition in Rwanda’s domestic politics, its economy condition in the post-genocide epoch as well as the international context which included Rwanda’s geographic position and the role of the United Kingdom in aiding Rwanda’s state-building in the aftermath of the genocide. This research uses qualitative method and uses secondary data such as, books, articles, journals, e-news, reports and other library sources.

Noam Chomsky may justly be considered the most important public intellectual alive, and the most significant of the post-World War Two era. Despite his scholarly contributions to linguistics, at least three generations know him primarily for his political writings and activism, voicing a left-radical, humanist critique of US foreign policy and other subjects. Given that a human-rights discourse is prominent in Chomsky’s political writing, and given that genocide-related controversies have sometimes swirled around him, it is worthwhile to consider the overall place and framing of genocide in his published output. The present paper undertakes such an inquiry. It employs a broad and systematic sampling of Chomsky's published work (including online sources and interviews) to explore: - How Chomsky understands the concept "genocide," and how this has evolved over the years; - His skepticism towards the term and and criticisms of its political manipulation; - Past genocide-related controversies involving Chomsky (the Holocaust, Cambodia, Bosnia/Kosovo, Rwanda); - Cases of mass violence that Chomsky considers genocides, "near" or "virtual" genocides, and propagandistic non-genocides; - The place of the Holocaust and Israel in Chomsky's analysis; and - Structural forms of genocide, especially those linked to contemporary capitalism and neoliberalism. The attempt is to provide a critical and wide-ranging evaluation of a leading public intellectual's writing and commentary on genocide over the past half-century.

In the last two decades following the 1994 genocide, Rwanda has been praised internationally for its strong leadership and revamped governance structures. This has resulted in rapid economic development, restorative justice, homegrown peacebuilding approaches, the tackling of corruption, and restoring security in a country that some analysts had prematurely depicted a hopeless case in state failure. In particular, promotion of women’s rights has become a cornerstone of the Rwandan success story, but few scholars have examined the women who participated in this process and their positive contribution in rebuilding their communities. This article focuses on the role a small group of female leaders at different levels of society played in creating and fostering peacebuilding initiatives over the past two decades. It relies on secondary sources and the author’s observations of several processes in the Rwandan society for more than a decade. It focuses on constructive steps taken in Rwandan society to promote women’s leadership, which sets it apart from many other post-conflict countries while being aware of legitimate critiques of post-genocide Rwandan conditions.

Abstract In the study of African Politics, the analysis of political ideologies as a normative engine of political action seems to have receded in favour of a treatment of ideology as the support of actors in their pursuit of material interests. Rwanda is not an exception. The ideology of the ruling Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) has been predominantly analysed as a self-serving strategy geared towards the reinforcement of the party’s power. Such treatment of ideology prevents a full understanding of the RPF. This article argues that ideology should also be conceptualized as a matrix that can reshape material incentives and through which the RPF’s interests have emerged. To do so, the article analyses new sources of material, the songs of mobilization from RPF members and supporters composed before the Front took power during the genocide, to systematically delineate the RPF’s early ideology. The analysis centres on four main themes—Rwandan national unity, the RPF’s depiction of itself, its depiction of its enemy, and its relationship with the international community—and traces their influence on RPF interests in the post-genocide era. It reveals the surprisingly long-lasting power of ideas despite fast-changing material circumstances.

ABSTRACTDrawing on rarely analysed primary sources obtained during multi-site archival research, this article examines and proposes to reassesses the political rhetoric deployed in pre-genocide Rwanda (First and Second Republics). The article contends that the First and Second Republics' rhetoric was not as ethnocentric as often contended. It argues instead that this rhetoric, cautious and moderate, should be understood as part of regime resilience strategies. Born of questionable origins, the two regimes faced recurrent instability and only imposed their authority questionably on segments of the Rwandan population. Unlike ethnocentric rhetoric calling upon limited ethnic affinities, moderate rhetoric was meant to ‘persuade’ and ‘pre-empt’, in other words extend support for regimes that were uncertain of their grounding.

Rwanda is experiencing rapid development and urbanization in the Post-genocide perpetrated against Tutsi (1994) period. Kigali as the capital and the leading city is undergoing remarkable changes in the process of modernization. This is being done through the rejuvenation of commercial areas, building of new business offices and quality infrastructure, improvement of urban service delivery, tourism and industrial development (Kigali Special Economic Zone). Together with a clean city policy, the City of Kigali is now known to be one of the cleanest cities in Africa. This has been effectively achieved through consistent and integrated urban policies. However, the city has been facing challenges related to informal settlements and equitable provision of urban services to all residents. In this paper, data from secondary sources, mainly official reports, policy documents and academic papers, are presented and discussed through various perspectives related to the urban growth of Kigali. Likewise, the implications of existing policies on the implementation of strategic initiatives have also been highlighted.

In the effort to reemerge from the scourge of the genocide, Rwanda needs to adapt reliable reconstructive and re-integrative processes. Peace education programs are among the interventions that can help the effort toward interethnic reintegration. Peace education can help students rethink history, reframe memories and differences, reconsider narratives and myths that lead to interethnic rivalry, and reimagine ways of tackling sources of interethnic tensions. This article proposes Interethnic Contact and Integrative Peace Education Programs (ICIPEPs) to inspire reflection on and critical engagement with broader sociopolitical, ideological and historic-political issues in peace education classrooms in Rwandan universities. ICIPEPs is a broadly based, context-specific, and flexibly adaptable framework that promotes critical engagement and conscious understanding. The article discusses what peace and civic educators in Rwanda can and may need to do to ensure the contribution of ICIPEPs in peace building and societal reconstruction. The article underlines that though they need strong knowledge, pedagogical, theoretical, and value bases for participation in ICIPEPs, peace educators are expected to avail themselves to different demands and challenges by adapting reflective and engaged educational praxis.

Kigali is a rapidly growing city, as exemplified by the phenomenal increase of its inhabitants from 358,200 in 1996 to 1,630,657 in 2017. Nevertheless, there is a paucity of detailed analytical information about the processes and factors driving unprecedented urban growth in the period following the genocide perpetrated against the Tutsi (1994) and its impact on the natural environment. This article, therefore, analyses the growth of the city of Kigali with respect to its post-genocide spatial and demographic dimensions. The methodology involves a quantification of urban growth over the period of the last 30 years using remote-sensing imagery coupled with demographic data drawn from different sources. The analysis of land cover trends shows how significant the pressure of urban expansion has been on the natural environment, with a 14 per cent decrease in open land between 1999 and 2018. Spatially, the average annual growth rate was almost 10.24 per cent during the same period. This growth is associated with the building of a large number of institutions, schools and industries. Moreover, the increase in low-income residents led to the construction of bungalows expanding on large suburbs and the development of new sub-centres in the periphery instead of high-rise apartments.

In Africa especially in Rwanda, the development of Biogas technology is imperative for development to occur in sustainable manner. Using large centralized power generation facilities to provide electricity to rural population and communities is very expensive and non-viable in Rwanda due to lack of a well dispersed electric grid. In Addition, use of non-renewable fossil fuels is resulting in increased greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions and attendant increased drivers for climate change. Development of Biogas systems serves the purposes of solving sanitation, energy and environmental problems by improving good health conditions and providing a source of energy for cooking and lighting to the communities and households contributing also to the decrease of GHG emissions. In Rwanda, there are 14 prisons, after genocide of 1994, the inmates increased up to 60,000. Number of prisoners was from 2,000 up to 7,500 prisoners in one prison [6]. This high number of inmates caused serious sanitation and environmental problems. Indeed the septic tanks became full and human excreta started to overflow and pollute the environment. In addition, a very big quantity of fuel wood was used for cooking inmates’ food; the consequence was the degradation of the environment. Similar problems were observed in schools. Solution to the mentioned problems was construction of Biogas systems. In Rwanda only about 16% of the population have access to electricity. In order to reduce that deficit of energy, Rwanda Government is developing other sources of energy particularly Biogas for rural areas which so far do not have connection to the national electricity grid. Big size (100 m3) and small size (4, 6, 8 and 10 m3) bio-digesters are installed in several institutions and households and they provide enough Biogas for cooking and lighting in steady of using firewood which is becoming scarce in many areas of the country and their usage as source of energy causes pollution through production of Carbon dioxide (CO2) released in the atmosphere. A study made by SNV (Netherlands Cooperation Development Agency) shows that a domestic bio-digester reduces 4.6 tons of (CO2) per year. Hence, calculation made indicates that the 3,000 domestic bio-digesters currently operational in Rwanda allow to reduce 13,800 tons of Carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions per year. As organic wastes particularly human excreta and other digestible biomass are available everywhere, biogas technology can be developed in all the countries worldwide.

AbstractSeen as one of Africa's most visionary and enlightened autocrats, Paul Kagame's presidency is often contrasted with the violence and ethnocentrism of his discredited predecessors. Drawing on rarely analysed primary sources, this article disputes this simplified narrative by revealing striking continuities in the ruling elite's rhetorical repertoire in the late colonial period (1956–1959) and present-day Rwanda. Both then and now, rhetorical calls to remove ethnic labels from public discourse in the name of national unity are key resilience strategies designed to shape regime relations with domestic and international audiences in ways that reinforce power concentration by a small (largely Tutsi) elite. Changes in the distribution of power and the scale of anti-Tutsi violence (most notably in 1994) help explain why a similar rhetorical strategy failed to prevent the dismantling of the Tutsi oligarchy in 1961 while strengthening its contemporary counterpart.

AbstractDespite more than a decade of jurisprudence from the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda and the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, the manner in which the victim group is defined for the purpose of genocide remains an area in which the espousal of principle is not always matched by practice. This article undertakes a comprehensive analysis of whether international criminal law identifies the victim of genocide based on objective indicators of the group's existence or based on subjective perceptions in relation to that group. This article tests the claim in the Report of the International Commission of Inquiry on Darfur that the identification of victim groups has evolved to such an extent that it is now based on a purely subjective standard. This article first considers the Genocide Convention, its travaux preparatoires and the method of identification of victim groups in other areas of international law, concluding that none of these sources offer clear guidance as to whether the victim group is to be understood as a subjective or objective concept. The jurisprudence of the ad hoc tribunals is then closely analysed. Despite the common claim that the tribunals have been moving towards the adoption of increasingly subjective standards, this article suggests that upon closer analysis such development is not so pronounced. Although the tribunals have shown increased willingness to espouse, in principle, the value of a subjective approach, in reality the tribunals have looked to the same forms of evidence of a group's existence since its earliest jurisprudence. However, although no clear change has occurred in the practice of the ad hoc tribunals, it is becoming increasingly evident that the tribunals are acknowledging the blurred boundaries between objective and subjective indicators of a group's existence. The "evolution" towards a subjective approach referred to in the Darfur Report might be properly understood as a more evolved understanding of the factors which lawyers are quick to regard as objective, but which in the field of sociology have long been regarded as part of subjective processes of group identification. Thus, the issues in this article are framed by the broader debate as to the divergences between the legal and sociological conceptions of genocide is article concludes by placing this discussion in the context of the International Criminal Court's first foray into genocide in the case of The Prosecutor v. Omar Hassan Ahmad Al Bashir.

Abstract This article shows that the intensity of violence in Rwanda’s recent past can be traced back to the initial establishment of its pre-colonial state. Villages that were brought under centralized rule one century earlier experienced a doubling of violence during the state-organized 1994 genocide. Instrumental variable estimates exploiting differences in the proximity to Nyanza—an early capital—suggest that these effects are causal. Before the genocide, when the state faced rebel attacks, with longer state presence, violence is lower. Using data from several sources, including a lab-in-the-field experiment across an abandoned historical boundary, I show that the effect of the historical state is primarily sustained by culturally transmitted norms of obedience. The persistent effect of the pre-colonial state interacts with government policy: where the state developed earlier, there is more violence when the Rwandan government mobilized for mass killing and less violence when the government pursued peace.

In July 2005, while European heads of state attended memorials to mark the ten year anniversary of the Srebrenica genocide and court trials continued in The Hague at the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY), Bosnian-American artist Aida Sehovic presented the aftermath of this genocide on a day-to-day level through her art installation in memory of the victims of Srebrenica. Drawing on the Bosnian tradition of coming together for coffee, this installation, ‘Što te Nema?’ (Why are you not here?), comprised a collection of tiny white porcelain cups (‘fildzans’ in Bosnian) arranged in the geographic shape of Srebrenica in the lobby of the United Nations building in New York. It was to represent Europe’s worst mass killing since the Second World War, which took place in July 1995 in the Bosnian town of Srebrenica. Up to 8,000 Bosnian Muslim (Bosniak) men and boys were killed when Bosnian Serb troops overran the internationally protected enclave (The Guardian). The cups were gathered from Bosnian families in the United States of America and Bosnia & Herzegovina, and in particular from members of ‘Zene Srebrenice’ (‘the women of Srebrenica’). Each of the 1,705 cups represented one exhumed, identified and re-buried victim of the Srebrenica genocide (1,705 at July 2005). The cups were filled either with coffee or, in the case of victims not yet 18 and therefore not old enough at the time of their death to have participated in the coffee tradition, with sugar cubes. The names and birth dates of the victims were recited on an audio loop. Genocide is the methodical destruction of the existence of a people. It is noted through the ‘UN Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide’ that genocide has inflicted great losses on humanity throughout history (UNHCHR). Tribunals, such as the ICTY, with their focus on justice, are formal and responsibility-based modes of responding to genocide. Society seeks justice, but raising awareness around genocide through the telling and hearing of the individual story is also required. Responding to genocide and communicating its existence through artistic expression has been a valuable way of bearing witness to such a horrendous and immense crime against humanity. Art can address the gaps in healing and understanding that cannot be addressed through tribunals. From Picasso’s ‘Guernica’, to the children’s pictures triggered by the Rwandan genocide, to the ‘War Rugs’ of Afghanistan and to vast installations such as Peter Eisenman’s recently opened Holocaust memorial in Berlin; art has proved a powerful medium for representing such atrocities and attempting to find healing after genocide. Artworks such as Sehovic’s ‘Što te Nema?’ give insight into the personal experience of genocide while challenging indifference and maintaining memory. For the affected communities, this addresses the impact on individuals; the human cost and the loss of everyday experiences. As Srebrenica survivor Emir Suljagic comments, “when you tell someone that 10,000 people died, they cannot understand or imagine that. What I want to say is that these people were peasants, car mechanics or masons. That they had daughters, mothers, that they leave someone behind; that a lot of people are hurt by this person’s death” (qtd. in Vulliamy). ‘Što te Nema?’ transmits this personal dimension of genocide by using an everyday situation of showing hospitality with family and friends, which is familiar and practised in most cultural experiences, juxtaposed with the loss of a family member who is missing as a result of genocide. This transmits the notion of genocide into the sphere of common experience, attachment and emotion. It acts as an invitation to explore the impact of genocide beyond the impersonal statistics and the aloof legalese of the courtroom drama. Beyond providing a representation of the facts or emotions around genocide, art provides a way of responding to a crime, which, by its nature, is generally difficult to comprehend. Art can offer a mode of giving testimony and providing catharsis about events which are not easily approached or discussed. As Sehovic says of ‘Što te Nema?’ (it) is a way of healing for Bosnians, coming to terms with this terrible thing that happened to us … it is building a bridge of understanding where Bosnian people are coming from, because it is very hard to talk about these things (qtd. in Vermont Quarterly Magazine). For its receiver, genocide art, with all its capacity to arouse our emotions and empathy, transmits something that we cannot see or engage with in the factual reporting of genocide or in a political analysis of the topic. Through art, it is possible to encounter genocide at an individual, personal level. As Mödersheim points out, we seem to need symbolic expressions to help us understand, and deal with the complex nature of events so horrific that reason and emotion fail to grasp their magnitude. To the intellect, many aspects of these experiences are unfathomable, and yet to keep our humanity we need to understand them … where words and explanations fail, we look for images (Mödersheim 18). An artist’s responses to genocide can vary from the need of survivors to create actual depictions of the atrocities, to more abstract portrayals of the emotional response to acts of genocide. Art that is created by survivors or witnesses to the genocide demonstrates a documentation and testament to what has occurred – a symbolic act of transmitting the personal experience of genocide. Artistic responses to genocide by those, such as Sehovic, who did not witness the event first hand, express how genocide “remains deeply felt to the point where we could not say it has ended” (Morris 329). Such art represents the continuation and global repercussions of genocide. The question of what ‘genocide art’ means to the neutral or removed viewer or society is also significant. Art is often associated with pleasure. Issues of mass killing and war are often not the types of topics one wishes to view on a trip to an art gallery. However, art has a more crucial function as a social reflector. It is often the reaction of non-acceptance of such artworks which indicates how society wishes to consider questions of genocide or of war in general. For example, Rayner Hoff’s 1932 war memorial ‘The Crucifixion of Civilisation 1914’ was rejected for display because it was considered too confronting and controversial in its depiction of a naked, tortured female victim of war in a Christ-like pose. As Picasso commented, “painting is not done to decorate apartments. It is an instrument of war for attack and defense against the enemy” (qtd. in Mödersheim 15). In discussing the art that emerged from the Sierra Leone Civil War, Ross notes, “as our stomachs and hearts turn over at such sights, we get a small taste of what the artists felt. Even as we look at the images and experience the horror, disgust and anger that comes with knowing that they really happened, we realise that if these images are to be understood as reports from the field, serving the same function as photojournalism, it means that we have been sheltered from this type of reporting from our own news sources” (Ross 39). Here, art can address the often cursory acknowledgment given to ‘events which happen in faraway places’ and lend an insight into the personal. As Adorno notes, “history in artworks is not something made, and history alone frees the work from being merely something posited or manufactured” (133). Here we see the indivisibility of the genocide (the ‘history’) from the artwork – that what is seen is not mere ‘depiction’ but art’s ability to turn the anonymous statistics or the unknown genocide into the realisation of a brutal annihilation of individual human beings – to bring history to life as it were. What the viewer does after viewing such art is perhaps immaterial; the important thing is that they now know. But why is it important to know and important to remember? It has been argued that genocides which occurred in places like Srebrenica and Rwanda happened because the international community did not know or refused to recognise the events to the point of initially declining to apply the term ‘genocide’ to Srebrenica and settling for the more sanitised term ‘ethnic cleansing’ (Bringa 196). It would be nave and even condescending to argue that ‘Što te Nema?’ or any of the myriad other artistic responses to genocide have the possibility of undoing a genocide such as that which took place in Srebrenica, or even the hope of preventing another genocide. However, it is in transporting genocide into the personal realm that the message is transmitted and ignorance to the event can no longer be claimed. The concept of genocide can be too horrendous and vast to take in; art, whilst making it no less horrific, transmits the message to and confronts the viewer at a more direct and personal level. Such art provokes and provides a starting point for comment and debate. Art also stands as a lasting memorial to those who have lost their lives as a result of genocide and as a reminder to humanity that to ignore, underestimate or forget genocide makes possible its recurrence. References Adorno, Theodor. Aesthetic Theory. Trans. by Robert Hullot-Kentor. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1997. Bringa, Tone. “Averted Gaze: Genocide in Bosnia-Herzegovina 1992-1995.” Annihilating Difference: The Anthropology of Genocide. Ed: Alexander Hinton Laban. London: University of California Press, 2002. 194-225. Kohn, Rachael. “War Memorials, Sublime & Scandalous.” Radio National 14 August 2005. 12 December 2005 http://www.abc.net.au/rn/relig/ark/stories/s1433477.htm>. Mödersheim, Sabine. “Art and War.” Representations of Violence: Art about the Sierra Leone Civil War. Ed. Chris Corcoran, Abu-Hassan Koroma, P.K. Muana. Chicago, 2004. 15-20. Morris, Daniel. “Jewish Artists in New York: The Holocaust Years.” American Jewish History 90.3 (September 2002): 329-331. Ross, Mariama. “Bearing Witness.” Representations of Violence: Art about the Sierra Leone Civil War. Ed. Chris Corcoran, Abu-Hassan Koroma, P.K. Muana. Chicago, 2004. 37-40. The Guardian. “Massacre at Srebrenica: Interactive Guide.” May 2005. 5 November 2005 http://www.guardian.co.uk/flash/0,5860,474564,00.html>. United Nations. “International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia.” 10 January 2006 http://www.un.org/icty/>. UNHCHR. “Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide.” 1951. 3 January 2006 http://www.unhchr.ch/html/menu3/b/p_genoci.htm>. Vermont Quarterly Magazine. “Cups of Memory.” Winter 2005. 1 December 2005 http://www.uvm.edu/~uvmpr/vq/vqwinter05/aidasehovic.html>. Vulliamy, Ed. “Srebrenica Ten Years On.” June 2005. 10 February 2006 http://www.opendemocracy.net/conflict-yugoslavia/srebrenica_2651.jsp>. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Hawkes, Martine. "Transmitting Genocide: Genocide and Art." M/C Journal 9.1 (2006). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0603/09-hawkes.php>. APA Style Hawkes, M. (Mar. 2006) "Transmitting Genocide: Genocide and Art," M/C Journal, 9(1). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0603/09-hawkes.php>.

Proper names, also linguistically called toponyms and anthroponyms, embed extensive sociolinguistic, cultural, and historical aspects in the life of any nation. Thus, they have caught the researcher’s attention because of the cultural and historical heritage they preserve in the context of language contact. From one place to another, and one specific period to another, anthroponyms and toponyms offer a wide range of research because of the scientific curiosity researchers have as to know why the name of a person or place exists, where it comes from, who named it, and when it was named so. In other words, the research is carried within spatial and temporal scope. Anthroponymy is the study of proper names of human beings, both individual and collective, while toponymy is the study of proper names of places. This paper aims at showing how place and person names embed cultural and historical features necessary to understand, explain, and preserve a people’s culture and history for a given period. The method used to research this topic is descriptive and it is based on the materials observed from various sources such as street names, hoardings, individual names, just to name a few. Therefore, this study focuses on specific topologies and periods, i.e. names denoting locations where the Rwandan territory has extended in the precolonial, colonial, postcolonial periods, and post-genocide periods.