Who were these individuals? If you guessed former Rwandan genocide perpetrators, you are right.
But how could former instigators of ethnic-based atrocities now seem to be reformed to love their new government and want to uphold mixed Hutu and Tutsi communities? The answer lies in Rwanda’s unique post-genocide justice and reconciliation process.
In the wake of 1994, Rwanda could be considered hell on Earth. The country had a pre-conflict population of seven million. After the 100-day genocide, nearly one million were dead and an additional two million had fled the country in fear of retribution from the new government. At the same time, formerly exiled Tutsis were flooding back into the country to find no food, water, institutions, or infrastructure.
To the new government, everything was a priority. But one especially pertinent question existed: how would genocide perpetrators be served justice?
At first, the solution was jail. Rwanda’s prisons overflowed with over 80,000 inmates by 1996. But there were insufficient funds to provide basic services for prisoners: international watchdog groups such as Amnesty International decried the inhuman living conditions, where looters were left to rot next to mass murderers.
From 1994 to 2012, 95 genocide masterminds were tried at the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda. At this rate, it would take hundreds of years for every alleged perpetrator to receive a just trial. Therefore, in 2002 the government rolled out a homegrown justice system: gacaca. For 1.5 years, written testimonies were gathered on what people experienced or observed during the genocide. Subsequently, community leaders were elected to serve as judges, and trials were carried out until 2012 on the community level.
Approximately 1.9 million cases were tried through gacaca. While this diminished impunity, it also kept Rwanda from becoming an incarceration nation: if convicted individuals confessed to their crimes, their sentence was divided into two parts. The first portion was carried out in prison, and the second was fulfilled through community service. This service was facilitated through institutions called TIG camps.
It was at Mageragere TIG camp that the 110 men and women answered my classmates and my questions. Our inquiries ranged from their perception of media to how they explain their jail sentence to their children. At the end of our visit, we were invited to dance and sing with those we learned from. An avid student of the Holocaust through Georgetown’s Centre for Jewish Civilization, I never imagined myself locking hands with former genocide perpetrators, let alone in jovial celebration.
Upon leaving Mageragere, I could not stop thinking about the repeated claim from these instigators of violence that they neither felt personal shame, nor were afraid to return to the community upon which they had inflicted such pain. The justifications were: 1) bad governance led them to commit crimes; and 2) the good new government has forgiven them and mended the country.
Through TIG camp civic education, the Kagame government has clearly scapegoated the Habyarimana regime, labeling it fully responsible for the 1994 atrocities. While individuals may have committed crimes, the current government has determined the root cause for their actions to be bad leadership. The Kagame regime has stepped into the all-forgiving role of God, and many TIG perpetrators acknowledge it as such. Now, having been cleansed of their sins, they are expected to support the state and fight genocide ideology.
What is true justice and reconciliation? By exonerating guilty citizens, the government diminishes personal responsibility but facilitates the self- and communal-forgiveness process. By enforcing punishment through prison and service, impunity is not condoned. However, sentences are relatively short: the longest from gacaca was 20 years.
Some say this arrangement neither provides justice nor facilitates true reconciliation, as people do not take responsibility for their own actions. Others believe this is exactly what is needed to unite those on both sides and forge a common future. Ultimately, the question remains: in a society where perpetrators and victims are to peacefully coexist, is it important (or necessary) to skirt personal responsibility for the sake of reconciliation?
