rwanda/burundi: 'uni-ethnic' dominance and the cycle of armed ethnic formations
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Rwanda/Burundi: 'Uni-ethnic' Dominance andthe Cycle of Armed EthnicFormationsJ. 'Bayo AdekanyePublished online: 25 Aug 2010.
To cite this article: J. 'Bayo Adekanye (1996) Rwanda/Burundi: 'Uni-ethnic' Dominance and the Cycle of Armed Ethnic Formations, SocialIdentities: Journal for the Study of Race, Nation and Culture, 2:1, 37-72, DOI:10.1080/13504639652385
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Social Identities, Volum e 2, N umber 1, 1996 37
Rw anda/Burundi: `U ni-ethnic’ D ominance and the
Cycle of Armed Ethnic Formations
J. `BAYO ADEKAN YE
International Peace Research Institute, O slo
ABSTRACT : The paper underlines the essentially m ilitary organizational dimensions to the
cycles of v iolent ethnic conflicts that have been plaguing Rw anda and Burund i. The
argum ent is that the two arm ed form ations now com peting for territorial control and
dom inance in both states, nam ely the Tutsi-controlled arm y at hom e and the Hutu
`refugee-warriors’ from without, as indeed those before them (m eaning the H utu-
controlled army at hom e and the Tutsi `refugee-warriors’ from w ithout in the case of
Rwanda between 1959 and 1994), have their tap-roots in the `uni-ethnic` structure of
m ilitary dom inance inherited from colonialism . The logic of that structure’s operations
could not have produced consequences other than the very tragic ones which all the
w orld now associates w ith these two cases. It is subm itted that a new state m ilitary
form ation com posed of both H utu and Tutsi m em bers in adequate num bers and
proportions at com m and level as well as rank and file (that is, extend ing current
arrangements for pow er-sharing at the political level to the m ilitary organizational
sphere) is a necessary condition for breaking out of the vicious violence.
Introduction
This paper analyses the cycles of armed ethnic formations, including the
phenomena of ethnic armies holding sway at home and of rival refugee-warriors
operating from without, that have long plagued Rwanda and Burundi as
comparative cases .1
I consider this problem of analysis an awfully important,
though as yet unexplored, way of getting at the crux of the seem ingly
`intractable conflicts` that have been raging here,2
and thereby contributing to the
design ing of appropriate action strategies for their resolution. My main objective
is to underline the essentially military organizational dimensions of the conflicts.
The analysis begins with a central argument which it quickly proceeds to
substantiate, leaving whatever modifications are thought necessary for much
later consideration. The argument is that the two armed ethnic formations now
competing for territorial control and dominance in both Burundi and Rwanda,
namely the Tutsi-controlled army at home and the Hutu `refugee-warriors` from
without, as indeed those before them (meaning the Hutu-controlled army at
home and the Tutsi `refugee-warriors` from without in the case of Rwanda
between 1959 and 1994), have their tap-roots in the structure of military
organization inherited from colonial rule; and that the logic of that structure’ s
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38 J. `Bayo Adekany e
operations could not have produced consequences other than the very tragic
ones which all the world now associates with these two cases. It is a structure
that was modelled on what has elsew here been classified as `the uni-ethnic
military dominant` type.3
The propositions that this model embodies, and some
of the structural-cum-predispositional implications to which it conduces, are
re-stated in the second major section of the paper.
This is not to suggest that the concept of `uni-ethnic` military dominance is
a settled one.4
Besides, there are difficulties about the concept’s application to
the specific cases under study that cry out for immediate qualifications and
caveats before I proceed further. The difficulties are not just definitional-cum-
methodological, but also theoretical, and even empirical; and raise questions that
touch at the very heart of the two case studies. What does one mean by
differentiating between the Hutu and Tutsi as `ethnic` groups? To what extent
are the conflicts involving them `ethnic` (and is there in fact such a distinct thing
as `ethnic conflict` anywhere)? Or is it just the `face` of another conflict? How
justified am I in characterizing the state military formations in Rwanda (during
the three distinct periods, pre-1959, between 1959 and 1994, and after 1994) and
in Burundi (from colonial times to the present) as all based on the `uni-ethnic
dominant` model? By `uni-ethnic` are these military formations to be understood
as being necessarily freed of other ethno-regional divisions and conflicts?
Part of the problem such questions assume considerable salience here is that
some of the important clusters of symbols, overt signs, and signals Ð what
Barth (1969) calls `the diacritical features` Ð like language, culture, and
life-styles, which people look for and exhibit in order to show their identity, are
clearly absent from the Hutu/Tutsi comparative cases . If by `ethnic identity` one
presupposes that such diacritical referents must first obtain, it is `singularly
inappropriate to describe Hutu and Tutsi as being ethnically different from each
other `given the fact that they share the same language (Kirundi), the same type
of social organization, often the same life-styles , and have lived peacefully with
each other for centuries while sharing the same collective commitment to
monarchical symbols`.5
Obviously, the sources of what has become the
differentiation between `us` and `them` and the tendency for devaluation of
`them` in the discourse on identity betw een the Hutu and Tutsi have to be
sought elsew here. In the first major section of the paper I underline the role that
colonialism played in the fostering of ethnicity here. Colonialism did this by not
just creating the categories `Hutu` and Tutsi`, and endowing them with new
ethnic identities, including the introduction of identity cards bearing the mention
of `ethnic` membership, but also (and perhaps this is the most critical
consideration here) by planting the seeds about two radically different and
exclusive `myths of origins`.6
Once created, these categories or groups called `Hutu` and `Tutsi` came to
assume a new reality of their own. The definition and redefinition of `ethnic
selves` were to be reinforced by all the other historical variables of group
differentiation, particularly the class cleavage superim posed by colonialism, and
the distinction proceeding from occupational specializations between the `Hutu
as farmers` and `Tutsi as herders`, as well as what Lemarchand (1993, p. 158) has
called `the interlocking of reciprocal acts of violence`.7
The latter refers to the
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Rwanda/Burundi: `Uni-ethnic’ D om inance and Arm ed Ethnic Form ations 39
many violent conflicts, genocidal murders , and reprisal wars engaged in by the
two sides since 1959, the pervasive psychological sense of insecurities bred by
these, and the role of both in supplying the additional building block for
in-group solidarity and out-group hostility. There are other factors, still, that
have come to exacerbate the Hutu/Tutsi conflict especially in most recent times,
and which relate to the impact of democratization and the whole frustrating
socio-economic condition, including the pressures of population on land comb-
ined with the burden of debts and adjustment; aspects of these will be
elaborated in Section 5 of the paper. Incidentally, what all the foregoing
introductory points in respect of the two cases simply illustrate is that ethnic
identity is never a static or `primordial` given, but rather an historical
phenomenon, the product of social forces, and therefore everywhere subject to
reconstruction and even manipulation especially by the political elites.
I have just alluded to another consideration for understanding the nature of
conflicts in Burundi and Rw anda: the question of control of state power and the
role that competing elites8
play in such conflicts. It is a consideration that helps
to underline the essentially political nature of many of these conflicts, including
those wearing a supposedly `ethnic` label. The question of control of state power
looms large here as indeed in the rest of Africa, because control of the apparatus
of state power entails the control of and access to political and economic
resources and their unfettered distribution. This necessarily makes the state an
extension of particular sectional groups or interests; it is also one major reason
why the state is not seen as capable of acting as an impartial arbiter in the
disputes and conflicts raging in the wider society. To all this of course must be
added the `zero-sum` character of politics, no doubt sharpened here by the
largely bi-polar nature of the conflict group configuration: for a group to be `in`
governm ent is perceived as a gain for members, having regard to the control
over and access to public resources that this gives; whereas for the `out` group
this means a loss, complete denial of any share of these. It is a structure of
politics no doubt open to cynical manipulation of old prejudices by the elites on
both sides; and in which the psychological factors of fear of domination,
suspicion about each other’ s moves, and uncertainty about security of life itself
tend to add their own force to the momentum of things. It also accounts for the
conflicts between the hitherto dominant Tutsi minority elites and the dominated
Hutu majority having all along assumed the dimensions of bloody combats or
even total war, unrestrained by any rules or norms, and aiming at the total
annihilation of opponents on both sides.
Pursuing these essentially political dimensions of Hutu/Tutsi conflict could
almost tempt the analyst into either dismissing the `ethnic` character of the
conflict as `the ideology of the elites `, or redefining all ethnic conflicts as but `the
continuation of politics by some other, albeit mostly emotion-laden, means`. But
either position would be over-stating the point. To emphasize those essentially
political dimensions of the phenomenon does not necessarily reduce the
`ethnicness ’ of the Hutu/Tutsi conflict. Are the elites (often also called the
intelligentsia) not in fact recognized as playing similar roles everyw here? In any
case, what matters is that not only do Hutu and Tutsi elites perceive and define
their members as being ethnically differentiated from one another: they also
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40 J. `Bayo Adekany e
believe membership in one group or the other affects individual life-chances or
opportunities , including access to basic human security provisions such as jobs,
education, income, food, health, social security , and above all personal safety.
The implication is clear: when the Hutu and Tutsi elites themselves say `we are
Hutu and they are Tutsi`, or `we are Tutsi and they are Hutu`, and members of
one not only self-define themselves but are defined by the other in those two
exclusive categoric terms, they are affirming a point about the definition of
`ethnicity` that has long been stressed by scholars and researchers engaged in
this field : namely, that ultimately the question such as `who are Tutsi or Hutu,
and just how different is each from the other?` boils down to a matter both of
self-definition by members and of definition by others .9
That is the sense in which must be understood my use of terms like `Hutu
republic`, `Hutu-dominated government and army`, `Hutu ex-government and
refugee army and militias`, `Tutsi-controlled state power`, `Tutsi-dominated
army`, `Tutsi-led patriotic force`, `uni-ethnic military dominance`, etc., that recur
in the paper. One uses these terms even though mindful that ethnicity is but
only one among a number of social identities that Burundians and Rwandans
possibly have, the other major identities being related to such things as social
class, occupation, religion , gender, and age, and all of these occasionally
criss -crossing with one another; it so happens, however, that most of these other
identities at work here tend to coincide rather than overlap with the ethnic
divide. It does not mean, of course, that the categories that one is dealing with
here are solidarity ones, in the sense of being completely freed of their own
internal contradictions and conflicts. Nothing can be farther from the truth. Not
only are both the Hutu and Tutsi of Rwanda and Burundi plagued by internal
differences, call them sub-ethnic, regional and clan differences can sometimes
generate acute tensions of their own.10
But the central thesis of my paper is, in
fact, that the military organizational structure that I characterize here as the
`uni-ethnic dominant` is very much latent w ith considerable destabilizing
potentials that much of the cycle of armed ethnic formations characterizing
political life here, along with its associatedly vicious violence, is a direct
consequence of that structure. With these necessary introductory qualifications
and caveats, I can now move on to expound, and attempt to substantiate, the
central argument of the paper. I begin with a short analysis of the colonial roots
of the problem.
1. Colonial Legacy
Both Burundi and Rwanda have had their post-independence political develop-
ments acutely affected by the legacy not only of their pre-colonial past but also,
perhaps more importantly, by the policies of the German and later the Belgian
authorities who had ruled the territories in the colonial period.11
For example,
the Tutsi of Rwanda, who though a minority had managed to conquer and
impose their rule on the Hutu majority , have long shared with the latter
subjected group many elements of common culture, including kinship, social
structure, and language. While exercising a largely tyrannical overlordship, the
Tutsi rule in pre-colonial Rw anda had also permitted some measure of H utu
autonomy. Like the analogous Fulani’ s relations with the Hausa in Northern
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Rwanda/Burundi: `Uni-ethnic’ D om inance and Arm ed Ethnic Form ations 41
Nigeria, the Tutsi’ s ruling hierarchy had long learnt that being socialized into
the culture and language of the subjected Hutu majority was an expedient and
much more efficient way of exercising control; in fact, as with the Hausa-Fulani
case just mentioned, both the Tutsi and Hutu of Rwanda were on the way to
becoming if not fully fused into one, at least a partially hyphenated national
group at the point of colonial contact. Nor was the structure of authority even
in pre-colonial Rwanda the completely hierarchical one that many of today’ s
analysts are wont to believe it to have been.12
What the imposition of German
and later Belgian colonial rule did was to reverse that process of amalgamation
and convert the pre-existing system of kinship into what Zolberg et al. (1989,
p. 45) characterize as `a neo-feudal state, founded on a rigid dichotomy between
`Tutsi lords’ and `Hutu serfs ’ , and legitimized by an imaginary distinction
between a superior race of immigrant `Hamites’ of Egyptian origin and the
`primitive indigenous Negroes`, so-called.
The effects of colonial role in the restratification of society were to be even
more pronounced in neighbouring Burundi. There the relations between the
Tutsi and Hutu in the pre-colonial period had been much less hierarchical still:
not only were the ruling Tutsi themselves divided into at least two caste-like
groups, but some H utu lineages had been classified to be of princely blood and
therefore entitled to hold chiefly positions. The restratification of Burundian
society under colonial rule did away with many of the existing cross-ethnic
linkages and networks, and ended up introducing in Burundi, as in Rwanda, a
big cleavage between the Tutsi as a class of rulers and the Hutu as a class that
was ruled.
The restratification was rationalized in both cases by what came to be known
as the `Hamitic hypothesis` (Sanders, 1969). Although long-since discredited, and
partly because of being a basically racist ideology, that `hypothesis` had held the
`Tutsi` to be more `civilized`, and therefore `deserving of greater power,
privilege , and status` than the `Hutu` w ithin the pseudo-racial hierarchy created
by colonial policy. The result of all this is the emergence of the sharp
coincidence of ethnicity and class that all of us have come to consider to be the
distinctive characteristic of Burundi and Rwanda today: the `sub-Nilotic` Tutsi,
mostly a pastoral group, though a minority , established as the ruling class, and
monopolizing much of the effectiveness of state power, particularly the military,
versus the `sub-Bantu` Hutu, mostly agricultural, though a majority , as a
dominated class, and denied access to or a share of state power, including
military participation.
But what particularly interests me in this paper are the essentially military
dimensions of that policy, which had ranked the military prowess of peoples
here, as elsew here on the continent, in effect, according to a descending order
of pigmentocratic categories from `the Negroid`, `the Nilotic tribes`, to the `pure
Negro`. Those dimensions of the policy had meant that the Tutsi, with their `tall,
lanky, and loose-limbed` members were preferred to others as a better military
material by the colonialists; not unlike the stereotypes that had led other
European colonial powers such as the British , French, and Portuguese, partic-
ularly the first two, to prefer as infantrymen the so-called `hill-top` peoples to
low-landers , hinterland to coastal areas, rural folks to urban centres, small-sized
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42 J. `Bayo Adekany e
ethnics to demographically large ones. It was part of that whole colonial policy
of recruiting according to `the Gurkha syndrome`, or the so-called `warrior
tribes` theory, or better still what has been called the dam nosa hereditas, meaning
the fatal legacy, of `ethnic ranking and martial races` (Adekanye, 1979a, 1995b;
Enloe, 1980; Kirk-Greene, 1980; Echenberg, 1990). What the latter meant was that
here, as elsew here, the definition of military dependability as a basis for colonial
recruitment was determ ined as much by those earlier racial stereotypes as by the
considerations of political expediency and divide and rule. In the Tutsi of both
Burundi and Rwanda, being at once demographically small and also fitting `the
Nilotic tribes` stereotype, the German/Belgian colonialists thought they had
found a group with perfect combination of the two criteria of military
dependability . They therefore had no hesitation in entrusting the Tutsi minority
with the monopoly of these states’ military function.13
Those are the
colonial-historical materials going into the classification of the structure of
military formations inherited by both Rw anda and Burundi as modelled on `the
uni-ethnic military dominant` type.
2. Logic of U ni-ethnic M ilitary Dom inance
But in what ways could the structure of uni-ethnic military and political
dominance of the Tutsi minority over the Hutu majority deliberately fostered by
colonialism have produced the vicious cycle of ethnic military formations that
has been plaguing Burundi/Rwanda since independence, as postulated at the
beginning of the paper?
To answer this question, I should begin by analysing what the logic of
uni-ethnic military dominance means and its implications for intergroup
relations. To return to previous formulations on this, then, `uni-ethnic military
dominance` is one of three alternative strategies for coping with the effects of
divergent ethnic interests and differences upon military organization and
behaviour.14
The essence of this particular approach is the pre-emption by one
group out of a plurality of groups of the monopoly of military functions. A
system of institutionalized inequality based on group domination, this military
approach relies almost solely on power and its exclusive exercise for enforcing
control. The domination may have resulted from a war of conquest, especially
in a colonial or semi-colonial setting , or from the type of imperial legacy referred
to in the previous section. But it may also be the product as well as the creation
in an independent state of a system of division of labour, where division follows
ethnic lines (with the group of persons entrusted with military monopoly being
ethnically different, for example, from those engaged in economic production,
who in turn may be separate from the class that exercises bureaucratic-cum-
judicial functions); in the latter circumstances, functional specialization becomes
ethnic segregation. But whatever the source of origins uni-ethnic military
dominance everywhere assumes a system of hegemonic control and subjugation.
Although based almost solely on power to uphold it, the system of uni-ethnic
military dominance tends to develop all sorts of bio-cultural arguments, often
spurious in nature, which attribute military superiority to the dominant group,
while justifying as `natural` or `inevitable` the existing division of skills and
functions betw een it and other groups. Actually , these arguments are in the
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Rwanda/Burundi: `Uni-ethnic’ D om inance and Arm ed Ethnic Form ations 43
nature of ideological rationalizations aimed at perpetuating the group’s
monopoly of the military function. Meanw hile, where the uni-dominant
militarily privileged group are not only a numerical minority but also the
governing elite, the resultant military-political system has the makings of a caste
(meaning superimposition, on ethnicity, of a class) society.
Those interesting characterizations of typical uni-ethnic military dominance
are to be found in the theory’ s original formulation. But, perhaps, even more
interesting are the logical consequences of the model’ s adoption for the
civil-military process of a given state, which the theory also analyses. As I have
just implied, a uni-ethnically dominated army is one whose inner structure is
dissociated from the general ethno-political make-up of the society. N ow, how
does one prevent `all other groups` not militarily represented from (feeling they
are) being militarily dominated by `one` group which monopolizes the military
function? Apparently, this is inevitable, since as already stated , a uni-ethnic
military system is by definition a system of political domination. Initially ,
though, it is by no means certain that the non-represen ted necessarily want to
be represented. For a number of reasons, a non-represen ted group may have
developed an aversion for anything military. The military career may be
considered less lucrative than a career in other fields. A non-represen ted group
may consider refinements in arts and culture, advances in education and
technical know-how, and commercial and economic improvements, for example,
as more crucial to its survival and advancement vis-à-vis other groups, and may
accordingly concentrate on these matters in total neglect of the military function.
But such neglect can continue only under one or two conditions, as long as (a)
the military career remains non-lucrative, or (b) the control of military power by
other(s) is not perceived as a threat to the group’s interests and endeavours in
other fields and therefore to its very survival. Let neither condition (especially
the second) hold, and a hitherto non-interested group of necessity becomes
interested in acquiring a military share. The latter observation is particularly true
of most Third World countries with underdeveloped economies and where
employment opportunities are rather limited.
Hence, another set of genera lizations or hypotheses is postulated by the
theoretical model of uni-ethnic military dominance. One of these touches on the
central role that military factors play in badly divided multi-ethnically
conflictual systems generally , and the other on the legitimacy problems and
inheren t instabilities plaguing uni-ethnic dominant systems in particular. To
re-state them one after the other, it is in the nature of politics in multi-ethnic,
segmented society torn by conflicts for all groups to come to prize military
power over other elements making for relative power, and for the militarily
non-represented to come to demand represen tation. Also, because one group has
pre-empted that which is supposed to be a public `privilege` in the sense of
belonging by right to everyone Ð and the privilege of military function at that,
crucial as this is perceived to be to the issues of political domination or revolt,
social mobility, and even private accumulation Ð those groups which are
militarily discriminated against may not only come to consider the existing army
organization, and therefore the state, as `illegitimate`. But they may also begin
to recruit, train, and organize their own `unofficial` armies, for purposes of
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44 J. `Bayo Adekany e
`self-help` or `self-defence` in the face of perceived military threat from the
militarily dominant group.
From the latter was established yet another important theoretical genera l-
ization central to the model of uni-ethnic military dominance. It was stated as
follows:
Where an army institution comes to be view ed by all as critical to the
achievement of certain goals, though this institution is constitutionally
defined as `a legitimate organ of the state as a whole`, pressures will
develop for those groups that are denied military represen tation not only
to challenge the institution’ s legitimacy, but to be disposed to the use of
illegitimate means (by for example recruiting their own unofficial armies),
redefining these as `legitimate`.15
In short, that model of military organization even in its original formulation
sees the society which adopts it being faced with constant struggles between two
tendencies, the uni-ethnic military structures or regimes battling to maintain
their dominance in the face of rising opposition and the armed ethnic formations
or para-military bodies `unofficially` organized from among unrepresen ted
groups not just challenging the former institutions’ legitimacy but in fact seeking
to displace them. It is a model that underlines the inherent instability of
uni-ethnic military dominant systems in general.
Much of my definition of the problem of analysis thus far has focused on the
internal processes of group identifications and instabilities. But there is another
facet of instability inherent to structures of uni-ethnic military dominance that
was missing from the model’s original formulation, but which the consideration
of empirical facts of the cases under study compels me to include in its
reformulation here. It touches on the external dimensions of the problem.16
And
pursuit of the latter allow s me to add this new proposition to the list originally
postulated. Regimes of uni-ethnic military dominance particularly in societies
with a ranked system of ethnic configuration have the tendency of not only
making militant opponents out of other groups at home, but also driving some
of these either underground or completely out of the country to become
ethnically `displaced-` or `refugee-warriors` abroad. This opens up for the
opposing domestic groups possibility of increased external links in their
struggles against such regim es, and for the regimes themselves another source
of conflict escalation to worry about.
What the reformulated model points towards is the thesis on inevitability of
instability inheren t to all structures of uni-ethnic military dominance in badly
divided societies. Most of those propositions and hypotheses on the nature and
dynamics of uni-ethnic military dominance had been formulated as part of a
general theory of military organization in multi-ethnically segm ented societies
in 1976. It is remarkable that the theory has come to be supported rather than
refuted by developments that have since taken place in the domain. And in the
specific cases being analysed here, the theory just summarized provides insights
that remain relevant for understanding some of the major developments in
Rwanda and Burundi today. Certainly, those theoretical generalizations help to
explain why the two countries do not have armed forces that enjoy any
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Rwanda/Burundi: `Uni-ethnic’ D om inance and Arm ed Ethnic Form ations 45
monopoly of the legitimate use of physical coercion, but each offers a plethora
of armed ethnic formations dotting their civil-military scenes. These range from
the regular, through para-military or militia, to the refugee-warrior (see Figure 1
below): all ethnically recruited and organized, owing no loyalties to any
common authority or command, but separately controlled by the two ethno-class
groups, the Tutsi and Hutu in each of the cases, and competing for political
control of territory and governm ent in their respective states. The next two
sections of the paper supply some details of these armed ethnic formations
thrown up by the nature and operations of the system to date.
Figure 1:
Rwanda/Burundi: P lethora of Arm ed Ethnic Formations
Rwanda Burundi
Regular · Tutsi-dominated army, pre-
1959
· Hutu-dominated army,
1959± 94
· Tutsi-dominated army (ex-
guerrilla force), 1994 onwards
· Tutsi-dominated army, since
colonial times
Para-
Military
· Hutu militia s (since 1959),
includ ing the notorious
Interham we
· Tutsi militias (since the 1980s),
among them the Inkotanyi
· Hutu militia s (since
independence), the Intagohekas
being by 1990 the best known of
these
· Tutsi militias (since the 1980s)
· Private ethnic retinues (from
1990)
Refugee-
Warrior
· Tutsi-dominated refugee
guerrillas, later becoming RPF
(1959± 94)
· Hutu-led ex-army and refugee
guerrillas (since July 1994)
· Hutu-dominated refugee
guerrilla forces raised at
successive escapes from
genocide (1969, 1972, 1988, 1993,
1995)
3. Ethnic A rmies, W ithin
Empirically , what has by now become for both countries a vicious pattern of
actions and reactions, taken either in resistance to or assertion of uni-ethnic
dominance, was set by the Revolution in Rwanda in 1959. The bloody event had
seen the Rw andan Hutu majority rising in large numbers to overthrow the Tutsi
minority rule and take over control of political and military affairs of the
country shortly before independence in 1962. The first Hutu republic was born.
In the process , hundreds of thousands of members of Rwanda’s former ruling
Tutsi group were forced to flee and take refugee in neighbouring Burundi,
Uganda, Zaire (Belgian Congo-Leopoldville then), and Tanzania (then British
Tanganyika). It was the beginn ing of that settler community of Tutsi refugees,
particularly those based in Uganda, from whom was to be raised the future
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46 J. `Bayo Adekany e
Rwandan Patriotic Front now back to power in Rwanda. I shall in the next
section of the paper have cause to say a little bit more about this Tutsi-led
armed guerrilla force that came to topple the Hutu-controlled government and
army of Rwanda in July 1994.
During those thirty-two years that the Rwanda Hutu elites were in power,
they had run a `majoritarian` Ð that is an equally exclusivist Ð structure of
governm ent, effectively starting with the presidency of Gregoire Kayibanda,
1962± 73. He was immediately followed by Juvenal Habyarimana who ruled for
twenty years until he was killed along with his Burundian Hutu counterpart.
The regim e went by the unmistakable, self-proclaimed designation of PARME-
HUTU (being the acronym for an All-Hutu party called Parti du Mouvem ent
d’Em ancipation H utu) led by Kayibanda. The nature of the regim e suggests that
the Rw andan H utu elites saw the central objective of their rule as aimed at
reversing past discriminatory practices by simply inverting the system of rigid
ethnic stratification. Even though a formal quota system was supposed to have
been in place earmarking 85 per cent of all public vacancies, including
appointment to senior posts in the civil service and admission to schools to the
Hutu as against 15 per cent allocated to the Tutsi (Zolberg et al., 1989, p. 48),
there was no mistaking the character of the new Hutu rule in Rwanda. Thus, the
Hutu rulers ended up replacing one form of uni-ethnic and `supremacist` project
(that is the Tutsi) with another (in this case the Hutu), pure and simple. That the
Hutu were a majority, constituting some 85 per cent of the population, and the
Tutsi a bare minority represen ting 15 per cent, is not a sufficient ground for
characterizing the nature of that rule differently. After all, plus vel m inus m utat
speciem . Perhaps, nowhere was inversion of the rigid ly ranked system as an
aftershock of the 1959 revolution brought out more vividly than in the
reconstitution of the country’ s ethno-military structure.
The Hutu regim e simply had established for the Rwandan state new armed
forces, a new police and security outfit, a new presidential guard and other
para-military bodies, as well as a system of militias befitting (or so it was
initially rationalized) the country’ s new republican status, and all of them Hutu-
dominated, officered, and controlled . The process involved the replacement of
Tutsi by newly recruited Hutu; and, in no time, these so-called militias of the
Hutu republic became the notorious Hutu Interham we, often functioning with the
assistance of the Presidential Guard (PG) elements (see Lemarchand, 1994a,
pp. 599± 601). The increasingly brutal nature of these new forces also became
obvious as the regime grew more authoritarian in its dealings with all Rwandan
citizens, Tutsi and Hutu alike, provoking many on both sides into joining the
growing ranks of opposition movements . By the late 1980s cracks had also
emerged in the Hutu ranks; it had become evident that the Habyarimana regime
was veering military recruitment and promotion from the south-central region
and more and more towards the north, particularly the Bushiru region, Habyar-
imana’s homeland. The increasingly unstable political and military threats to the
regime had forced him to rely for presidential security more upon his sub-ethnic
group, immediate clan, and even kinsmen. It was the extremist elements w ithin
these defence and security forces who were said to have been responsible for the
series of massacres of the Tutsi minority organized between October 1990 and
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July 1994, although the massacres included some opposition Hutu elements too.
Culmination of these genocidal slaughters perpetrated by the armed Hutu forces
and militias took place in the last hundred days of the regim e’ s hold on power
when as large a number as between 500,000 and 800,000 people were murdered.
Meanw hile, with the defeat and replacement of Rwanda’s Hutu-controlled
army and regime by the insurgent guerrilla force of ex-Rwandan Tutsi exiles in
July 1994 there occurred an important episode worth noting from the view -point
of the thesis expounded here. The event marks the completion of the first full
circle (that is, a revolution in another sense of the word), beginning from Tutsi
through Hutu and now back to Tutsi military dominant forms, to which such
oscillations in uni-ethnic military organizational structures inevitably lead. In the
zero-sum discourse of politics here: the once politically dominant but now
defeated Forces armées rw andaises, Rwandan Armed Forces (RAF), `out` of power;
the hitherto exiled but new ly victorious Front patriotique rwandais, Rwandan
Patriotic Front (RPF), now `in` power. Or, to put the same point even better still,
what was until 1994 the Army of Rwandan Hutu Republic ends up as an
ex-army, now undergoing transmutation into a refugee guerrilla force; while a
once guerrilla force of refugees, the Inkotanyi, becomes the ex-RPF, in the process
of regularization as the Army of a regained Tutsi-controlled Rwanda. Needless
to say, the new Tutsi-led Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) regim e, which is the
insurgent guerrilla force concerned and currently undergoing the process of
professionalization and regularization, remains potentially subject to the same
`iron law` of change;17
unless, of course, the new regim e is able to seize the
opportunity by moving the Rw andan army and state away from the uni-ethnic
dominant mode of organization towards a more broadly-based one.
Unlike the Rwandan army, the Burundian army has remained to this day the
largely uni-ethnic Tutsi-dominated force that was inherited from the colonial
past, and perhaps even more so, in spite and even because of agitations by the
Burundian Hutu majority for a more represen tative system of government and
military participation. The latter members were emboldened to become increas-
ingly assertive if not impatient in their demands, strengthened by the 1959 event
in neighbouring Rwanda where their ethnic cousins had seized state power. But
that revolution had provoked exactly the opposite and even more authoritarian
reaction on the part of Burundi’ s ruling Tutsi elites who used it to tighten their
oppressive hold on their Hutu majority counterpart.
Successive revolts by the Hutu majority elites against continued subjection
to Tutsi rule (viz. 1965, 1972, 1988, 1991, 1993, and now 1995) have tended to be
visited by brutal and mostly anti-Hutu army-backed pogroms and
counter-pogroms, which in turn have resulted in huge waves of mostly Hutu
refugees flooding across the borders looking for safe sanctuaries in neighbouring
countries ; there the refugees wait, regroup, and prepare for another opportunity
or time in their fight for `liberation` from Tutsi oppress ive rule. So the cycle has
been going on. There is evidence, today, that the Burundian Tutsi-dominated
army, meaning therefore state, no longer enjoys an unchallenged monopoly of
instruments of coercion with which it had long been credited; although it is
doubted whether, even under the best and the most legitimate of political
orders, any state or army ever enjoys such a total monopoly anywhere.18
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48 J. `Bayo Adekany e
Since the defeat and replacement of the Hutu regim e and army by the RPF
forces in Rw anda, Burundi has been described as `teetering on a knife’s edge`.19
Those events coupled with past brutalities suffered at the hands of the
Burundian army and other security forces, and especially the experiences
following the October 1993 eruptions, have created the felt need for the H utu to
be even more militarily prepared than ever in order not to be caught napping
as in previous times. The growing militant elements among them have
increasingly emphasized this; namely, that a ruling but unarmed majority such
as FRODEBU (read Hutu) risks being at the perpetual mercy of the armed wing
of the Tutsi minority (particularly the army). The thinking has an essentially
Machiavellian basis to it, but is admixed with the doctrine of necessity and
radical ingredients of the `just war` tradition. It is a kind of thinking on the part
of militant opponents that makes any talk of or action in the direction of
`accommodation` and `compromise` sound/seem `traitorous` to the Hutu cause.
The result has been the rise of various organizations of Hutu militias of
which the best known are called the Intagohekas, `Those who never sleep`. The
latter have been described as the extremist militias of the Forces pour la D efense
de la D em ocratie (FDD), Forces for the Defence of Democracy, whose leaders are
said to include prominent figures, among them the ex-Interior Minister Leonard
Nyangoma now living in exile in Zaire.20
The Intagohekas are demanding either
the full recruitment of the Hutu into the Burundian army or, in the absence of
the latter, the total militarization of all the able-bodied Hutu youth outside the
apparatus of the state and its coercive organs. Partly in response to the latter, the
Burundian Tutsi on their side have also started organizing their own militia
forces; one such force the Sans Eches can be found active in the big towns,
particularly in the capital of Bujumbura. At the same time, some of the
Tutsi-dominated UPRONA leaders, including at least two of the country’ s past
presidents, Jean-Baptiste Bagaza and Pierre Buyoya, are believed to have
recruited their own privately armed militias. Admittedly, many of these other
forces, as with some of those under Hutu control, in a sense reflect other
competing sub-ethnic, regional, clan, and community interests or power centres ;
as such, armed ethnic retinues would be a better term for describing these other
privately recruited forces. Meanw hile, the huge and country-w ide diffusion of
light-arms, weapons, and military uniforms currently reported means that there
is no shortage in the availability of the wherewithal for waging these ethnic
insurgency and counter-insurgency wars. Indeed, Burundi today has become
what has been aptly called a `militant’s mayhem’ .
4. Refugee W arriors, W ithout
The bulk of my analysis thus far has focused on the variety of armed ethnic
formations internally thrown up by the structures of uni-ethnic dominance, their
recruitment base, nature, and level of organization. Particularly highligh ted have
been the uni-ethnic military institutions controlled by Rwanda’s and Burundi’ s
governm ents, both the Tutsi and Hutu, particularly the Tutsi, and the opposition
that these have come to provoke from others w ithin both countries leading to
the setting up of rival `unofficial` armies, para-militaries, and militias used in
challenging the ruling groups’ political legitim acy and control. I now proceed
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to look at the external dimensions of the military-organizational equation, by
analysing the other kinds of military formations provoked into opposition by
uni-ethnic dominance, namely, the system of ethnic guerrilla formations that I
have called `the refugee warriors.`
The latter term, the use of which I consider most apt here, is adopted from
a book, Escape from Violence: Conflict and Refugee Crisis in the D eveloping World .
The authors, Zolberg, et al., who first coined the phrase, define characteristics of
a typical `refugee-warrior community` to include the existence of a refugee
situation plus such other elements as `armed forces and a distinct political
leadersh ip and social structure`. In other words, a crucial element in the
definition of a `refugee-warrior community` is a highly conscious group with a
set of political objectives, particularly members’ objective to fight their way back
to reclaim the homeland. The common ex-diaspora conditions facing refugees
also make it difficult to distinguish between the `civilian` and `warrior`
component of the refugee population, but rather to see the former as `a
necessary adjunct for` the latter. The authors’ descriptions of the role that the
`civilian population` plays in legitimizing the activities of a `warrior` component
are worth being recalled here:
The civilian population ... provides a recruitment pool that enables the
rebel army to reproduce itself. As the community becomes established, it
tends to grow by producing opportunities and even incentives to others
to become politically active. Individuals in exile may find that the most
socially meaningful and economically rewarding activity is join the
militants . For many children growing up in camp and knowing nothing
but a dependent, degrading, and fundamentally insecure existence, joining
the battle is the only relevant future. When the camps also are close to or
part of the front ... war becomes the dominant reality for the entire exiled
population; the armed militants appear as protectors of the community,
thus forging more closely the links between the refugees and the warriors.
(Zolberg, et al., 1989, pp. 154, 275± 77)
Add the internal military-ethnic dimension, and you will have thought the
foregoing descriptions of `refugee-w arriors` are almost based on the Rwandan
and Burundian cases.
After the horrors of Rwanda’s most recent genocidal slaughter in the hands
of the departing Hutu-controlled military and security forces Ð a majority of
whose victims were from the rival Tutsi ethnic group Ð a total of about 2.2
million H utu are believed to have fled Rwanda after the fall of their
governm ent. Among this latest wave of Rwandan refugees are an estimated
30,000 Hutu ex-governm ent soldiers and 10,000 militias of the former Rwandan
Hutu regime now camped in the north-eastern Zairian town of Goma. The head
of this 40,000 strong Hutu refugee army and militiamen is Major-General
Augustin Bizimungu, a Hutu, who was the chief of staff of Rwanda’s ousted
governm ent army. I have no evidence whether he was personally involved or
not in organizing the genocidal slaughters of April± July 1994, of which many
officers and men of his force had been accused, and upon which the
international criminal tribunal on genocide currently sitting in Tanzania will
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50 J. `Bayo Adekany e
perhaps subsequently shed light. But what has been said of him is that,
according to a recent Reuters report, `Bizimungu was credited with master-
minding the ... exodus to Burundi, Tanzania and Zaire, and analysts say he
commands a large following among the refugees, mainly Hutus, who believe he
saved them from being massacred by the RPF army`.21
But why, it may be asked,
do these H utu ex-combatants and militias now part of a large warrior-refugee
community in Zaire, and camped in both Goma and Bukavu, not want to go
back, if they were not involved in those horrendous genocidal attacks against
the Rwandan Tutsi? That many of them are afraid of reprisals or revenge
killings in the hands of the new Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) government
forces or agents is no doubt true, but only part of the answer. The other part of
the answ er derives from the very logic of military-political developments that
I have been tracing. I venture to submit that for these latest refugee warriors
from Rwanda, Goma is a convenient base for training and making preparations
for a possible resumption of the civil war,22
but more appropriately for staging
their own `violent homecoming` at a later date.23
Memories may be short, but it would not be the first time that ethnic refugee
guerrillas would be training and preparing for, if not found actually involved
in, armed attacks against their home-country . Unfortunately, according to the
theory postulated above, it is part of the very logic of things inherent to the
Rwandan/Burundian set-up; that is, in the exclusivist structure of political and
military organization being run by both the Rw andan and Burundian regim es,
and particularly the Rwandan, at least until now.
For example, no sooner had the Rwandan Tutsi lost power to their H utu
counterparts in the wake of the 1959 revolution and been forced to flee into exile
than the rump of their leadersh ip compris ing Tutsi ex-governm ent army officers
and soldiers plus a hurried ly raised band of guerrillas began operations to
recapture the reins of power in Rwanda. A group of scholars (Zolberg, et. al.,
1989, p. 46) describes as follows those early armed operations by exiled Tutsi
against the Hutu-controlled Rwandan governm ent:
The Tutsi leadersh ip in the diaspora was intent on regaining power. A
guerrilla force was formed among the refugees in Burundi, where the
Tutsi retained the upper hand. They limited themselves to minor border
incursions until 1963, when a few hundred of the inyenzi (cockroaches)
staged a larger operation directed at the capital.
Nor were these to be the last military attacks against the then Hutu-ruled
Rwandan state by Tutsi refugees operating from the relatively secure sanctuaries
in neighbouring Uganda and Zaire, particularly the former. It is perhaps no
exaggeration to say that given the circumstances in which it had come to power
(via bloody revolution), the Rwandan Hutu-controlled regime must have felt less
than secure and had in fact lived under constant threat of invasion and loss of
power throughout its tenure in office.
The first organized and most serious attack by armed Tutsi refugees against
the Hutu-controlled Rwandan state took place on 1 October 1990. The reader
will find this very much covered by the London-based Africa Confidential in one
of the issues published shortly after the event and under the title, `Rwanda/
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Uganda: a Violent H omecoming’ . The latter title is important in part because of
its appositeness. But that piece is important for another reason. It gives bits of
relevant information not only about the composition of that invading force in
particular, and the nature of the Ugandan-based Tutsi-warrior community in
general from which that October 1990 force was recruited, but also about the
relationship between the Rw andan Tutsi refugees and the Ugandan state and
army under President Yoweri Museveni. Such information had been considered
necessary for determ ining `how much did President Museveni know, and when
did he know it?` as the paper had phrased it. For there was a general interes t
even at the time in the question about the existence and operations, within
Uganda, of the ex-Rwanda Tutsi-led liberation force or the Inkotanyi which was
said to have launched that attack, and what the involvement of Uganda’s own
high-ranking army high command had been in those operations. I am informed
that at the time of this particular invasion many of President Yoweri Museveni’s
leading army officers had been ethnic Rwandan Tutsi, and that in fact the
National Resistance Army (NRA), which brought Museveni to power, had been
largely controlled by ethnic Rwandans who were first- or second-generation
immigrants to Uganda. Several top officers of the NRA were originally from
Rwanda. To be sure, the leader of that invading force of Rwandan Tutsi exiles,
Major-General Fred Rw igyema, was himself originally from Rwanda, an ethnic
Tutsi, and at the time of the invasion a top Ugandan army genera l.
If in 1990 the question of the Ugandan government and army involvement
in the invasion of Rwanda by Rw andan Tutsi-led refugees fighting their way
back home had been an academic exercise or rather subject to debate, by 1993
it had ceased to be so. The Tutsi-led force which commenced what was to be
their last-stage attack under the new banner of Rw andan Popular Front (RPF),
and was to succeed in driving the thirty year old Hutu-based regime from the
seat of power in Kigali in July 1994, comprised the sons and daughters drawn
from the families of the same 250,000-member Tutsi refugees based in Uganda.
In addition to being organized from Ugandan territory, and led by Tutsi emigres
occupying top positions in the Ugandan army hierarchy (the overall commander
of the operations, Major General Paul Kagame, was one of these), the RPF
operations were publicly supported by Ugandan President Museveni, as well as
armed, equipped, supplied, and financed either directly by or indirectly through
the instrumentality of his government.24
This time there was no dispute about
the Ugandan connections with the returning Tutsi refugee-warriors , nor were
any attempts made to disguise them. Evidently, what the new Hutu refugees ,
camped outside Rwanda since July 1994 and already planning and training to
stage their own `violent homecoming`, are intent on doing is using their safe
sanctuaries of host countries such as Zaire in pursuit of a similar objective.
Burundi’ s successive Tutsi-dominated regimes had been experiencing their
own problems of insurgent attacks aris ing from acute intercommunal violence
at home, the activities of armed Hutu refugees operating from outside, and the
ever-recurrent spectre of the Rwandan scenario being replicated there.
Admittedly, as previously remarked , the situation is far from being identical to
the Rw andan. But it is also true that, historically , Burundi has a record of more
violent ethno-political conflicts, more massive and repeated frenzies of anti-Hutu
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genocidal strikes, and a more recurrent and unabashedly sectional involvement
by the state security forces. Such conditions of massive and repeated ethnic
upris ings, genocidal and counter-genocidal slaughters, and brutal repress ions
have led to Burundi also producing greater and more repeated waves of
refugees fleeing to neighbouring countries. One expects as a matter of course,
then, that there would be as many opportunities here for throwing up armies
of warrior refugees opposed to the Tutsi-based Burundian regime as there had
been large-scale violent outbreaks and ethnic refugees, which is what has
actually been happening.
However, although also almost uni-ethnically structured and composed in
this case mostly of the Hutu, Burundian refugee-warrior groups have been far
from a unified movement; they have tended to be fragmented rather by
differences arising not only from the geographically dispersed nature of their
sanctuaries or bases of operations (eg. Kigoma in Tanzania to the south, and
Kama in Zaire to the north-east), but also from political party (cum-ideological)
affiliations and leanings back at home, clientilist and diffuse leadersh ip netw orks
and structures, as well as `clan`, regional and other intra-ethnic cleavages and
struggles. It is to be noted that some of the factors I have just mentioned had
prevented the Burundian conflict group elites from succeeding in mobilizing the
society along a full-blown H utu-Tutsi axis. But armed refugee formations and
attacks, led by Hutu opposition elements, also have long been organized in
Burundi; and with these the Burundian regime has also long had to contend.
For example, the H utu insurrections of 1972, which provided the Micombero
regime the opportunity for its cold-blooded reprisals as mentioned in the last
section, had been organized by a force of 10,000 Hutu rebels and said (Zolberg,
et al., 1989, p. 47) to have been initially `exhorted to action by their exiled
leaders`; the Hutu rebels comprised `local activists` but, as we are informed, also
`included H utu refugees operating from bases inside Tanzania’ . The period from
the mid-1970s through the early 1980s was marked by sporadic incursions into
Burundi by armed Hutu refugees assisted by some Rwandan Hutu volunteers.
As I show later, the coming of Buyoya to power in 1987 marked a political
opening to the Burundian Hutu elites, and the initiation of efforts aimed at
achieving some accommodation among the major conflict group leaders . But the
Hutu could not be certain, because the beginning of that same Buyoya
`reformist` era also saw the sharpening of ethnic polarities, and the organized
assassinations of their first two Presidents in a row. To be sure, for the
Burundian Hutu refugee-guerrillas undergoing training in their various camps,
the reports about reactions to the Buyoya regime from his own ultimate power
base did not assure that the Tutsi establishment (particularly the military) was
willing and ready to share its entrenched power and privilege with others. The
Hutu refugee-warriors, therefore, did not as yet see any justification to
demobilize, d isarm and return home. In August 1989, there was an armed Hutu
guerrilla attack against the Burundian government of Buyoya; although, as with
the sporadic skirmishes that had been taking place since the late 1970s, there
was no attempt made by organizers of this particular attack on Mabanda to
coordinate it with similar actions by other armed Hutu refugees operating from
the Zairian territory. The August 1989 attack was said to have been organized
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by U bumw e militants , an ex-PALIHEHUTU refugee group committed to armed
struggle as the only politically justifiable solution to the Burundian problem, and
apparently radicalized in their views by their experiences in the diaspora.
Volunteers for the U bum w e cause were drawn mostly from among the 200,000
Burundian Hutu refugees who have been living in Tanzania since the anti-Hutu
genocidal killings of 1972.25
By the beginning of the 1990s the Burundian Hutu refugees based at the
western Tanzanian town of Kigoma had formed an underground movement
known as the Front pour la liberation nationale (FROLINA), National Liberation
Front, committed to armed struggles against the Tutsi-dominated Burundian
state. It is possib le that the latter organization had a hand in the series of
insurgent attacks which began in November 1991, and was directed at military
and civilian targets in the Burundian state capital Bujumbura as well as the
Bubanza and Cibitoke provinces to the northw est, and said to have been led
mostly by returning refugees. What we know is that the conditions of state of
siege created by the threats of insurgent attacks organised by the
ex-PALIPEHUTU (Parti pour la liberation du peuple hutu, Hutu People’ s Liberation
Party) elements from underground, and in common cause with armed Hutu
exiles operating from the outside, began to be increasingly used to justify all
manner of human rights abuses by Burundi’ s army and other security forces
(Amnesty International, 1992). But, unfortunately, those abuses turned out to be
issues of relatively minor proportions compared with acts of genocidal murders
and other brutalities for which the Burundian forces have long been noted and
as much of the analysis of this paper makes clear. Armed incursions into
Burundi by Hutu refugees intensified in the two years following the October
1993 events, when army junior officers had attempted to abort the electoral
victory of the Hutu dominant party the FRODEBU, and its mandate to rule,
triggering off spontaneous Hutu resistance and its associated ethnic slaughters
and counter-ethnic slaughters, as well as another wave of Hutu refugees. Since
the end of March 1995, there has been yet another wave of Hutu refugees from
Burundi, raising the spectacle of further intensification of the armed struggle by
Burundian Hutu refugees against the home-country. Indeed, there is evidence
about intensification of their clashes with Burundian army and security forces,
particularly in the northwestern provinces of the country.26
5. Impact of Democratization
We have been examining the major structural-cum-predispositional elements in
my theoretical formulation on uni-ethnic military dominance advanced for
explaining the violent cycle of armed ethnic formations plaguing political life in
the two comparative cases under study. The elements underlined above, which
happen also to be among the major factors at the root of the H utu-Tutsi conflict,
include the colonial legacy, particularly the legacy left behind from German/
Belgian rule by the so-called `ethnic ranking and martial races` policies and
practices. Also underlined are factors related to the configuration of society,
including competing myths of origins , economic life-styles, and class distinct-
ions, the question of control of the apparatus of state power and the role played
by the competing elites, and finally the whole psychology of domination and
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resistance and all the social pathologies that go with this. Those are the major
elements in the theoretical model on uni-ethnic military dominance applied to
the analysis of conflicts in Burundi and Rwanda. However, while the
propositions making up the model are important and remain basically valid as
I have just demonstrated, the variables that it postulates at best only point to the
existence of a conflict potential, but cannot explain the actual occurrence of a given
conflict. Structural-cum-predispositional variables need other factors or forces
to dynamize them and in order for an actual conflict to result. This is where the
role of `accelerators`, or `precipitants`, or better still of `exacerbating factors`
comes in. It is now time to factor these other considerations into my analysis.
Of the many kind s of accelerating conditions or precipitants responsible for
the increasingly explosive nature of ethnic conflicts in Rw anda and Burundi,
three suggest themselves as the most important: first, those relating to the
current socio-economic conditions of debts and adjustment; second, the ris ing
demographic pressures on land; and third, the impact of electoral competition
and democratization. The first of this set of factors, while no doubt crucial, is the
most difficult to integrate with the kind of subject analysed here. Fortunately,
this has been sufficiently pursued in two related papers that look at both the
military and ethno-regional dimensions of Africa’ s debt and adjustment
problems, with some case materials on Burundi and Rwanda;27
as such, it can
safely be left out of my analysis here. The second set of accelerating factors of
conflict concerns the fact that Rwanda and Burundi are the two most densely
populated states on the continent and where the pressures on land are felt the
most; that these demographic pressures combined with the falling earnings from
agricultural production, including coffee exports, the current burden of foreign
debts, and the socio-economic tensions of structural adjustment have further
exacerbated what for both countries was already developing into a classic case
of `Malthusian nightmare of famine, war, and pestilence`.28
Obviously, the issues
of population and land are related to and can be treated as part of the earlier set
just noted; which was actually done in the references cited earlier. The third set
of precipitants of conflicts dealing with impact of democratization is the most
germane to my analysis here, and bears need for considerable elaboration.
Rene Lemarchand was the first, most informed observer of Burundian and
Rwandan political affairs to call attention to the close linkage between the
pressures for democratization and explosions of violent ethnic conflicts in the
two states beginning from the late 1950s. In fact, this can be considered as the
central theme of most of his writings in the domain.29
I have earlier hinted how
the first efforts at a major mobilization to take place here had been under the
pressures of electoral competition for power among the elites beginning at the
terminal phase of Belgian colonial rule. But it was with the recent wave of
democratization starting from the late 1980s that the exacerbating effects of
electoral competition and democratization upon Hutu/Tutsi conflict became
more evident. For one thing, democratization by its very definition portends for
the existing `ethno-class` structure of rule the possibility of the ruling Tutsi elites
being replaced by the hitherto underprivileged but increasingly assertive Hutu
majority , under the sheer force of demographic ethnic numbers.
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Ordinarily , no group or class that stands to profit from a given system of rule
is ever willing and ready to give up power and privilege freely . And for
authoritarian political orders threatened by such a loss of power, the military is
invariably the means seized upon to attempt to prevent the change; while the
opposition movements are left with the choice of either going into direct
confrontation with the military, or attempting to `win some of the military
members over` to the democratic cause. This is in the nature of civil-military
relations in all rapidly democratizing countries everyw here. In the particular
Burundian and Rw andan cases , however, there are the additional problems
arising from the acuteness of the `government` versus `opposition` syndrome, the
coincidence of the latter with the Tutsi/Hutu cleavage, and the undisguisedly
partial role with which the military has long been identified `as the custodian
of Tutsi ethnocracy`.30
These serve further to intensify the conflicts. Still another
reason why the impact of democratization has proved so acutely destabilizing
here is that the process coincides with the demands for ethnic equality, justice,
and access to opportunity, on the one hand, and the defence of ethnic inequality
and privilege, on the other. Finally, there is the largely liberal, majoritarian, and
`winner-takes-all` variant of democracy long assumed by the two sides as
end-product of the democratization process, which has had its destabilizing
effects too. All this makes the expected political change consequent upon
democratization, although brought about through the ballot-box, as much
revolutionary in its overall effect on a country like Burundi as the violent event
of 1959 was to Rwanda. But the two cases also illustrate just how difficult it is
to introduce reforms for democratic change in ethnically polarized, authoritarian
political settings, without the very `process of democratization` either taking on,
or being perceived by both sides as necessarily involving, `a l’ethnisation du
pouvoir`, the ethnicization of power.
Meanw hile, those same pressures of electoral competition and
democratization, which have seen politicians from among the Hutu majority
actually taking over the reins of power as well as threaten the continued Tutsi
minority rule, have also resulted in the structure of military-state relations being
completely unhinged. The geo-ethnic make-up of the group which still w ields
military monopoly has been dissociated from and no longer articulates with
those of the group whose members now claim the electoral mandate to rule. If
I were asked to summarize in a crisp sentence the interconnection between
democratization and the military organizational problem here, this would be it.
I am talking of an acute and dangerous contradiction in the balance of political
and military representation arising from the opposition of democratization,
along with all its ideals and values, against the core underlying assumption of
`the warrior races` theory, namely that some social groups are better suited for
particular functions and roles and must be restricted to these. The revolution of
1959 in Rwanda had somehow helped the Hutu regime there to avoid the
destabilizing dangers of this gross disjuncture between the new democratic
mandate and the legacy of military privilege, at least for the next thirty-tw o
years or so. But in Burundi where the army has remained overwhelmingly
Tutsi-dominated and controlled , and the Hutu majority party (FRODEBU)
emerged as the governing party, the gap between the ethnic locus of ultimate
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56 J. `Bayo Adekany e
power and of constitutional authority has long persisted. But what this has also
meant is that any army/government conflict here necessarily becomes an
extension of the Tutsi-Hutu cleavage in wider society; and, vice versa, that
Tutsi/Hutu discords tend to have their resonance in army/governm ent disagree-
ments.31
Unfortunately, the conflicts about here have not been of the variety of
mere discords and disagreem ents but the explosive kind.
Significantly, most of the violent conflicts recorded in Burundi to date,
including army coups or counter-coups, killings, pogroms and counter-pogroms,
and/or insurrections resis ting the latter, have taken place just when political
power appears to be slipping from the hands of the ruling Tutsi minority to the
Hutu majority. Periods immediately before or just after the outcome of national
elections have proved particularly crucial for triggering off such violent ethnic
conflicts. To give some brief illustrations of the point just made, thus, a high
court in Bujumbura was used by the Burundian government then under the
monarchy to set aside the results of the parliamentary elections of May 1965,
which then permitted the army-supported action taken by the Mwam i to replace
the Hutu prime minister with a Tutsi ganwa , despite the overwhelming number
of seats in the national assembly (some 23 out of 31, or 74.2 per cent) scored by
the Hutu party (Zolberg et. al., 1989, p. 47) This provoked the first major ethnic
upris ings of the Burundian Hutu, backed by the very few officers the Hutu had
at the time in the army, and aimed at overthrow ing the monarchy and setting
up their own `Hutu republic`.
Actually, as already suggested , the spectre of another Rw anda-type scenario
being re-enacted in Burundi had been haunting the latter’ s own ruling Tutsi
class since 1959; and the Burundian Hutu uprisings of 1965 brought home how
real the threat actually was. The insurrection almost succeeded, with the M wam i
being actually forced to vacate his throne and flee abroad. But the forces of
counter-revolution soon regained the initiative, and by November 1966 Captain
Michel Micombero, a Tutsi from the Hima group, had seized power in an army
coup, replaced the monarchy, and became the first military president of
Burundi. Micombero’ s rule, lasting to October 1976, saw trends towards the
consolidation of Tutsi supremacy, and the purging of the Burundian state
machinery, particularly the army and gendarmerie of the last Hutu remnants.
The Micombero regime also presided over one of the worst massacres in modern
African history. Following an abortive coup attempt in 1972 as many as 100,000
to 200,000 Hutu, including the cream of its educated elites, were killed .
The political opening to the Hutu initiated by Major Pierre Buyoya on
coming to power in the coup of 1987, though himself a Tutsi, came to provoke
many army coup and counter-coup attempts and plots led by Tutsi military
ultras opposed to any concessions to the Hutu. One such an attempt was that
of March 1989.
In June 1993, national elections were held that saw the incumbent President
and his party, the U nion pour le progres national, Union for National Progress
(UPRONA), overwhelmingly defeated by a H utu presidential opponent and
leader of the Front dem ocratique du Burundi (FRODEBU), Democratic Front of
Burundi, Melchior N dadaye. Almost immediately, groups of Tutsi army officers
and men began to plot against the incoming president (two such attempts were
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made on June 16± 17 and July 2± 3), and directed at aborting Ndadaye’s mandate
to govern. Ndadaye was duly sworn into office on 10 July 1993 as the first
popularly elected President of the Burundian state. Barely three months later,
on 21 October 1993 to be precise, a Tutsi-led army putsch was organized which
succeeded in physically elim inating President Ndadaye, along with the Presid ent
of the National Assembly, and several members of the government cabinet,
almost all of them Hutu. It was the most violent reaction to democratic political
change yet manifested yet by the Tutsi military ethnocracy (Reyntijens, 1993,
1995).
The late Ndadaye was succeeded as president by another FRODEBU leader,
also a Hutu, Cyprien Ntaryamira. But President Ntaryamira was himself also to
be assassinated a few months later on 6 April 1994 in the same plane crash that
killed the Rwandan Hutu President, Juvenal Habyarimana, although the Burun-
dian establishment (including army officials) tried to explain to Burundian
citizens, particularly the Hutu, that that plane crash was related to Rw anda’s
conflict, and not Burundi’ s.
Burundian Hutu have been reported since late March 1995 to be on the move
again, fleeing from another bout of anti-Hutu violence said to have been
instigated, at least in part, by the country’s Tutsi-controlled army and
gendarmerie. At the beginning of April 1995 the United Nations H igh
Commissioner for Refugees (UN HCR) field officials estimated as many as 55,000
Burundian Hutu refugees had been forced by those latest events to flee northern
Burundi for Tanzania.32
By the end of April 1995, Rwanda also was back in the
news again; sold iers of the ex-RPF army were reported to have attacked Hutu
refugees at Camp Kabeho, located in south-western Rwanda, killing an
estimated 2,000 to 4,000, including women and children. These latest events
suggest the tasks of reconciliation and peacebuilding have scarcely begun in
Burundi and Rwanda, while also bring ing to the fore once again the cycle of
problems posed for intergroup relations here by state armies that are largely
uni-ethnic in their composition and structure and blatantly sectional in their
political disposition.
6. Breaking O ut of Vicious Cycle
But how does one break out of this vicious cycle of violence and
counter-violence? Of brutal regimes of ethnic armies holding sway at home but
being challenged by rival military formations contesting for the control of
governm ent and territory? Of state governments and armies under constant
threats of attack from insurgent forces of warrior-refugees operating to
overthrow and replace such governments and armies by fighting their way back
home from without? In short, of the crux of Tutsi-Hutu conflict that has become
a definition of the Rwanda/Burundian tragedy?
The problem that I have been examining here has no doubt been different in
its structural manifestations and levels of intensity, but its nature would not be
completely new to political theory. Faced in very much earlier times with the
analogous oscillations in unstable rule both within and between the two
best-known tyrannies, namely the tyrannies of the minority and the majority ,
competing for exclusivist political control of governm ent, although under
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different climes and circumstances, the founding fathers of the discipline would
have recommended as solution a `balanced` political and military arrangement
under what, in Aristotelian construction, could have been called a `mixed` H utu-
Tutsi constitution. In fact, that is what the talk today of `power-sharing` betw een
the Tutsi and H utu is all about. But what practical measures have been taken
aimed at bringing about such an accommodation between the two contending
forces in the two states? What does `power-sharing` mean in the specifically
military organizational terms? And what are the prospects of achieving the
much-desired transition to peace and democratic governance? These are the
issues taken up in this last section of the paper.
Of the two countries, Burundi has had more experience with power-sharing
as a strategy of ethnic conflict management under democratic transition. In fact,
some de facto power-sharing arrangement has alw ays been in existence here, and
goes back to the very configuration of the Burundian set-up as a slightly
different society from Rwanda; and, in the years immediately following
independence, 1963± 65, the monarchy had `sought to ensure a proper balancing
of ethnic interes ts in government`, and a representation in cabinet `comprising
almost every proportion of Hutu and Tutsi` (Reyntijens, 1995, p. 7). But it was
after 3 September 1987 that much more conscious steps began to be taken
towards instituting power-sharing as a governmental arrangement, though
under circumstances that one would least have expected to produce such a
result. The steps were initiated under an army regime, which had just shot its
way into power through a coup d’etat, was confronted again with one of those
Hutu insurrections, and had found itself presid ing over another orgy of
genocidal slaughter of tens of thousands of unarmed civilians, forcing three to
four times the same number to flee to neighbouring Rwanda. But those events
also coincided with the latest wave of democratization sweeping across the
continent. By October 1988, Burundi’ s new ruler, a Tutsi, Major Pierre Buyoya,
had set up a `National Commission to Study the Question of N ational Unity`
compris ing 12 H utu and 12 Tutsi, as part of the new government policy of
reconciliation and exploring ways of achieving reconciliation and accommod-
ation with the Burundian Hutu. By April 1989, the National Commission had
published its report which immediately initiated the launching of a public
debate that was to lead to the drafting of what became known as the `Charter
of National Unity` (Reyntijens , 1995, p. 9).
That process marked the first major entry of the Hutu into the government
of Burundi, with increasing numbers being appointed to positions within the
apparatus of the state, including cabinet ministerial posts and provincial
governorships, until now monopolized by the Tutsi. Under Buyoya access to
secondary and higher education was also liberalized, which for the first time
was now to be organized on the basis of competitive national examinations, and
which resulted in a considerable increase in the numbers of deserving Hutu
candidates being selected for admission to the country ’ s post-primary and
tertiary institutions. The civil service was another state organ whose echelons
had until now been dominated by the Tutsi but which was to be thrown open
to Hutu recruitment. Above all, the Democratic Front of Burundi (FRODEBU),
as the Hutu majority party, which had long been proscribed and forced to go
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into exile, was now permitted to operate legally under a new multiparty
constitution introduced in 1992 by the Buyoya presidency as a way of also
opening political competition to all. And when in the national elections of June
1993 the incumbent President Buyoya and his Union for National Progress
(UPRONA) party lost to the FRODEBU presidential candidate Ndadaye, the
former was magnanimous enough to concede his defeat and hand over the reins
of power to the first nationally elected Hutu President of Burundi (Reyntijens ,
1993, 1995).
For all his progressive policy of moderation and reconciliation, however,
Buyoya had to be circumspect in his dealing with the army. For one thing,
hard-liners from the minority Tutsi population, particularly the armed wing, had
been giving abundant signals they would not tolerate any extension of the
political reforms to the army, and to opening the latter up to greater H utu
participation. For another, even a Buyoya regime, `reformist` though it might
appear, dared not alienate its ultimate constituency and the bastion of Tutsi
power, the army. Thus, to illustrate, Africa Confidential had reported in October
1990 how the first H utu cadets admitted to the country’ s military academy
ICSAM under the regime were literally forced to withdraw from the institution
without President Buyoya being able to do anything about this:
The few H utus last year admitted as cadets to the Institute superieur des
cadres m ilitaires, were bullied by their fellow-cadets so seriously that most
subsequently abandoned their military careers. The fact that no action was
taken against the commandant of the staff college and that the President
has denied the existence of any problem regarding the integration of
Hutus into the officer corps are signs of official embarrassment. In effect,
Buyoya has little further room to manoeuvre unless he is really prepared
to take on the heart of the current establishment.33
Where Buyoya’s problem was merely that the Tutsi-dominated Burundian
army had allow ed him no further room to manoeuvre, even though himself a
Tutsi, that of the next three Hutu presidents holding office after him Ð
Ndadaye, assassinated in an army putsch in October 1993, followed by Ntarya-
mira, himself killed along with his Rw andan counterpart in April 1994, and now
Ntibantunganya Ð is that they have simply become captives of Tutsi military
ethnocracy. I examine in a minute what power-sharing is supposed to mean in
the essentially military organizational sphere; and how and why no political
arrangement in the direction of the former is complete or even real without
involving an extension into the latter.
When Ndadaye was sworn into office he continued with the experim ent in
power-sharing that Buyoya had initiated. Rather than adopting a `winner-
takes-all` approach to the results of elections that had brought him and his party
to power, Ndadaye reserved only 60 per cent of ministerial posts for the
FRODEBU, while conceding 40 per cent to UPRONA. Obviously, those
proportional shares bore no relation to the two parties ’ electoral strengths or
ethnic demographics. But for FRODEBU to have insisted on taking 80± 85 per
cent of all political and administrative appointments , leaving the remaining
15± 20 per cent to the UPRONA and its allies (although these latter sets of
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proportional shares more accurately reflected the relative electoral strengths of
the parties and the Hutu/Tutsi breakdown of Burundi’ s total composition),
would have been close to establishing an all-Hutu `majoritarian` government.
President Ndadaye was overly conscious about not giving such an impress ion
to the dislodged Tutsi elites. Thus, he also appointed as the Prime Minster a
Tutsi, and from the UPRONA party, a politician by name Sylvie Kinigi, thereby
keeping his electoral promise that the presidency and prime ministership would
not be held by persons belonging to the same ethnic group. Also, as part of
Ndadaye’ s `reassuring` gestures, two army officers were appointed to the cabinet
and assigned to hold the ministry of defence and state secretariat for internal
security (Reyntijens, 1993, pp. 578± 79).
But of course, as we saw, not even such moderate efforts towards accommod-
ation by a politically dominant Hutu government could be reassuring enough
to the die-hards within the Tutsi military ethnocracy. After the assassination of
Presidents Ndadaye and Cyprien Ntaryamira, as well as the massive Hutu
insurrections triggered by the latter, another attempt at a government of national
reconciliation in Burundi was begun with the brokering of the September 1994
Accord. A FRODEBU leader, Sylvestre Ntibantunganya, a Hutu, emerged as the
new President and under a new power-sharing arrangement that also provided
for the Prime Minister to be supplied from the Tutsi-dominated opposition
party, the UPRONA. N ew ethno-political quotas were fixed, distributing all
cabinet posts, provincial governorships, and ambassadorships on the basis of 55
per cent to the predominantly Hutu FRODEBU party and 45 per cent to
UPRON A, as documented in one of the recent works by Reyntijens (1995,
p. 11± 13).
As events have since demonstrated, without the backing of a sufficiently
disposed state army organization, even this latest concession to Tutsi political
opponents by the Hutu ruling majority has difficulty in achieving the
much-needed break-through. But developments in post-1994 Rwanda also bring
out this point. There, efforts appear to be in the making to pick up the tatters
of the power-sharing idea contained in the moribund Arusha Accord of 1993
that had been entered into with the late President Habyarimana’s
Hutu-dominated government, as another Hutu leader Pasteur Bizimungu was
picked as the country’s new president. But the ex-RPF army leaves no one in
doubt as to who really is in charge. The ex-refugee guerrillas have been in
power barely one year now, but they are already manifesting growing signs of
being as much indisposed to sharing military power with their Hutu counter-
parts.34
From all the foregoing the inescapable conclusion is that the two, uni-ethnic
Tutsi-dominated armies currently operating in Burundi and Rwanda have been
the least touched by the various reform measures embarked upon by their
governm ents. Yet, from the view -point of my analysis here, the army is of all the
organs of state power the greatest in need of restructuring, if attempts at moving
these badly divided societies from the cycle of armed ethnic conflicts are to yield
concrete results. Without touching the army, whatever institutional framework
is designed in the name of power-sharing cannot be real enough; neither can it
be trusted to help create the enabling environment for forging the growth of
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mutual understanding and coexistence betw een the two warring groups. Ethnic
armies of uni-ethnic dominant variants have wreaked such human havoc here
that I believe the time has come for Burundi and Rwanda to move away from
that mode of military/political organization. This would also facilitate the
disarming of ethnic guerrillas, which task is no doubt reciprocally linked to both
the demands for power-sharing and transition to sustainable peace and demo-
cratic governance. Unquestionably, the regimes in power in the two states would
like to disarm and demobilize the plethora of ethnic militias and guerrilla forces
that dot their civil-military landscape. Yet the governments cannot achieve such
an objective until and unless they have achieved a measure of agreement and
accommodation on power-sharing with such militias and guerrilla forces most
of which are drawn from militarily unrepresen ted Hutu groups. This means that
transition from war to peace, from conflict to the post-conflict phase, and from
authoritarian rule to democratic governance necessarily has a significant military
reorganizational dimension that cannot be disregarded.
Now, ideally , the thing to do would have been to disarm and disband what
by now are clearly `ethnic armies` represen ting the two segments of society, and
create completely new national armies literally ex-nih ilo for Burundi and
Rwanda. But this is not practicable: I do not see how those currently enjoying
a military advantage particularly at the domestic front (meaning the Tutsi
establishment) would be willing to agree to any such complete disbanding of the
force under their command. In fact, the die-hards among them in both states are
already saying that the army is `national` enough and needs no reforming as
part of the current power-sharing efforts; while, for that very reason, the
`national army` idea (if by the latter one implies an army organization which is
`supra-ethnic`) is most unlikely to find favour with or appeal to the Hutu,
especially the militants among them, who may well regard such a proposal as
a thinly disguised project for continued uni-ethnic Tutsi military dominance.
Perhaps what is more practical to attempt, at least at this conjuncture of things,
is a military reorganization formula that aims at integrating and/or retraining
some of the ex-Hutu army officers and men with the existing force, while
rehabilitating and absorbing other redundant ex-combatants on both sides into
society through effective and well-funded programmes. But whether the military
reorganizational problem is approached as one of creating a completely new
national army or as involving the integration and retraining of the two
competing armed ethnic formations, and both to be coupled with a programme
of demobilization and rehabilitation of the remaining ex-combatants into the
society, the new military formation that we envisage for post-conflict Burundi
and Rwanda cannot but be premised on ensuring an ethnically mixed, meaning
a consciously `pluralized`, force structure and command.
There are two major problems confronting the implementation of the military
reorganization plan that I have just sketched. First, how does any governm ent
here, least of all one nominally headed by a Hutu majority as in Burundi, hope
to succeed in militarily integrating ex-insurgent Hutu combatants with the
existing Tutsi-controlled armies, without provoking at the minimum the fears
of promotion blockages, anxieties about job securities , and therefore the
continuing dangers of coupist strikes on the part of members of the latter? This
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62 J. `Bayo Adekany e
is a very real problem. But it is one that will call for major assistance by the
international community to help counteract. The international community is also
to be relied upon for providing funding for the programmes of disarming ethnic
ex-combatants, demobilization, and rehabilitation into society.
The second problem concerns the very nature of the force structure being
proposed. Of course, an ethnically pluralized army would have a weakening
effect on the command structure, esprit de corps, combat readiness, and
propensity for concentration of force, and thereby reduce the proposed
organization’s capacity to perform effectively. But then, perhaps, it is precisely
because of these very weaknesses manifested when such an alternative force
structure is used for internal security purposes that this organizational type is
considered at least for now the most appropriate for badly divided societies like
Rwanda and Burundi. For part of the problem here in the past has been that
governm ent armies have shown themselves all too eager and prone to intervene
politically and act sectionally as repressive forces, murdering and killing
members of opposition (meaning other ethnic) groups in the process, in part
because there have been no countervailing safeguards in their organizational
set-up to prevent them. A state military formation composed of both Hutu and
Tutsi members in adequate numbers and proportions at command level as well
as rank and file w ill provide such safeguards. It w ill have built into the structure
the necessary balance of ethnic forces for checking the kind of blatantly sectional
interventions in the political process , and odiously efficient execution of
genocidal campaigns, for which uni-ethnic government armies whether under
Tutsi or Hutu control have been unjustly famous in the past. This will also have
tackled much of the instabilities plaguing military organizations here, though
not necessarily other instabilities and violent conflicts derived from other
sources.
How effective, then, are the power-sharing arrangements that I have been
discussing as a solution to the rising Hutu-Tutsi conflicts? Although important,
the power-sharing arrangements (including the military) that I have been
discussing cannot provide absolute guarantee. This is in part because these
arrangements address only a few of the major factors responsible for the conflict
concerned. Decidedly left out of my analysis, as can be recalled, are factors of
the socio-economic kind, particularly those related to the conditions of debt
burden and structural adjustment, not to add those about demographic
pressures, and all the social tensions associated with these. That superimposition
of the effects of these other deteriorating socio-economic conditions upon
existing structures of conflicts can only produce even more heightened conflicts
between groups is something that can be demonstrated with materials from the
Rwandan and Burundian cases.35
Unfortunately, there is nothing in the
power-sharing scheme discussed above, whether as a theoretical construct or
institutional arrangement, for dealing with these other considerations; and as
Lemarchand (1993, p. 168) has warned , `no power-sharing arrangement can
survive the strains and stresses generated by such profound socio-economic
inequalities`.
Related to the latter is the observation that, obviously, power-sharing as a
strategy for managing the conflicts in Burundi and Rwanda is mostly directed
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here as elsew here at effecting inter-elite agreement and accommodation. In
doing this, the strategy simply acknowledges the crucial role that the elites have
been playing in the generation and conduct of such conflicts, provided of course
we do not assume that once the interests of these elites are guaranteed and
secured what we now know as the H utu-Tutsi conflict will have `withered
away`. The important point to bear in mind is that while no resolution of deep-
rooted conflicts is guaranteed by inter-elite accommodation, action in the
direction of the former cannot proceed without the latter. Thus, the institutional
arrangement of power-sharing (including that in the military domain), along
with the gradual internalization of the values and norms associated with it, does
no more than provide the minim um climate of security and stability under
which a given regim e may then, and without having to worry about the existing
structural and predispositional factors defining the old Hutu/Tutsi cleavage,
hopefully, begin to address those other exacerbating sources of the conflicts
stemming from the current socio-economic conditions. In other words, power-
sharing is not the solution, but a precondition for finding a long and lasting
solution to the violent conflicts that have plagued these two states; it could not
have been anything else. I am afraid that I have to end this analysis as it was
indeed begun, with caveats and qualifications. Because there remain very
important unexplained residuals in the explanatory theory with which I started,
the foregoing analysis of the paper cannot pretend to be anything but tentative.
C onclusion
To recapitulate the main points in my analysis, the paper has been concerned
in general with the plethora of armed ethnic forces that dot the civil-military
landscape of the comparative cases of Rwanda and Burundi, and in particular
with the vicious oscillation between the brutal regimes of ethnic armies holding
sway from within and the rival insurgent force of warrior-refugees operating to
overthrow and replace the former from without, and what all this has meant for
the peace and stability of the two states. It is in short about the military
organizational dimensions to the cycle of ethnic violence there. The central
objective of the paper has been to trace the source of the problem to the
structure of `uni-ethnic` military dominance inherited from colonial rule.
That the structure is inherently unstable is evident from the unceasingly
violent struggles engaged in to have a system of Tutsi minority rule replaced by
a Hutu republic and perhaps back to the Tutsi rule. But such struggles have also
seen the control and legitimacy of the structure challenged militarily on two
fronts. From within, there are the `unofficial` armies, para-military bodies,
militias , and other `self-defence` forces specifically organized to challenge the
legitimacy of uni-ethnic armies or compete with the latter for a share of the
states’ claims to monopoly of coercive machinery; such parallel military
formations are organized by groups who are officially denied military represent-
ation and have a felt need to seek and provide for their own security outside of
the ambit of the state. From without, there are also the threats of attacks and
invasions from the insurgent guerrilla forces of refugees that the
Rwandan/Burundian regim es of uni-ethnic dominance and their armies have
provoked and been perpetually forced to face.
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64 J. `Bayo Adekany e
The propositions postulated above regard ing the nature of uni-ethnic military
dominant systems, being by definition systems of domination, contain
ingredients of the explanation. Those propositions also help one to understand
the logic of military/political developments there; that is, why, for example, the
emergent ruling but unarmed Hutu majorities in Burundi (especially after 1989)
and Rwanda (just before 1959 and after July 1994) should feel unsafe being
protected by their armed minority Tutsi counterparts; and why the former
would be disposed to consider as `illegitimate` those uni-ethnic Tutsi-dominated
military institutions of both states, and rather recruit, train, and organize their
own `unofficial armies` for purposes of `self-defence`, at first secretly but
subsequently legitimizing these as a `just military` project.
Our central thesis on inevitability of instability of uni-ethnic military
dominance thus assumes the character almost of `an iron law`. The experiences
of the two comparative cases studied here demonstrate just how unstable
structures of uni-ethnic dominance, whether of the minoritarian or the
majoritarian variants, have become in the rapidly democratizing environment
of the post-Cold War world. A `pluralized` military/political organization under
a genuinely `mixed` (that is, power-sharing) Hutu-Tutsi government is the only
way forward for Rw anda/Burundi, and out of the cycle of violent instabilities
that has plagued these two fatuously twinned states over the past thirty years.
J. ’Bayo Adekany e is Research Fellow, and Program m e Leader of the Ethnic and
N ationalist Conflicts Programm e, International Peace Research Institute, O slo (PRIO),
O slo, Fuglehauggata 11, 0260 Oslo, N orway; tel: 47 22 55 71 50; fax: 47 22 55 84 22;
e-mail:<bayo@ prio.no> H e was previously Professor and H ead , D epartment of Political
Science, U niversity of Ibadan, N igeria.
N otes
1. The point has often been made about the situations of Burundi and Rwanda
not being identical with one another. It is important to bear this in mind
here; and, in fact, one of the challenges confronting my analysis is to bring
out what the differences are and just how these have impacted upon
developments in each of the cases. But in doing this it is equally important
that one does not lose sight of similarities between the two cases,
similarities that sometimes seem to outweigh whatever the differences. I
have particularly in mind the facts of (a) shared history, including the
legacy of common colonial rule; (b) common geographical boundaries ; (c)
nearly identical and similarly structured ethnic group configuration, with
each of the countries composed of about 85% Hutu, 14% Tutsi, and 1% Twa;
(d) similar socio-economic conditions ; (e) the inextricably linked fates of
their constituent populations; and (f) what one may call a shared `genocidal`
political culture. The implication of the foregoing is that Rw anda and
Burundi cannot be understood independently of each other; and, in fact,
historically , events in one are known to have almost immediate
`demonstration` effects on developments within the other. Given all this, the
analyst is justified in regarding Burundi and Rwanda as truly comparable in
the most literal sense of the term.
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Rwanda/Burundi: `Uni-ethnic’ D om inance and Arm ed Ethnic Form ations 65
2. The term `intractable conflicts` is used here in the sense suggested by Louis
Kriesberg, et al. (1989, p. 122): `Conflicts are not born tractable or intractable.
Conflicts emerge and escalate; they wax and wane. A conflict develops,
becomes increasingly intractable, and sometimes transformed and
negotiable.`
3. This was part of a theory on military organization in multi-ethnic states first
postulated by me some two decades ago. An abbreviated version of the
theory was published in 1979, while the inventory of major propositions
making up the theory was laid out a year earlier. The first empirical study
to be published on `uni-ethnic military dominance` appeared that same year
and was applied to Uganda (see Adekanye, 1976a, 1978a, 1978b and 1979b).
Compare Enloe (1980a, 1980b). Aspects of these military organizational
dimensions of ethnicity can be found also pursued in part four of Horo-
witz’ s (1985) master work.
4. Although the Ugandan case (1962± 71) was classified as approximating the
`uni-ethnic` military dominance model (Adekanye, 1978b), or what Mazrui
(1975) had described as `a kind of Manifest Destiny of the Nilotes` in action,
subsequent developments show ed that the so-called `Nilotic military
monopoly` was more mythical than actual. Even before the disintegrative
forces let loose by the nature of Idi Amin’s rule, there had been evidence of
cracks in the ranks of those wielding that monopoly. For example, officers
and men of northern origins but from the much smaller minority-ethnic
areas (principally in the West Nile province), who had been constrained to
make common cause, identify, and `super-tribalize` with the Langi and
Acholi, had begun to go their separate ways and assert (or re-assert?) their
(real?) identities when they felt politically strong enough to stand alone by
the time of the January 1971 coup. What the Amin rule, particularly its
recruitment strategy based as it was on shifting congeries of preferred
groups beginning with `the Acholi/Langi`, `ex-Sudanese colony of Nubians`,
`Lugbara and Madi` and subsequently his own `Kakw a`, not to add the
murderous nature of that rule, had succeeded in doing was to accelerate the
process of military disorganization.
5. As Rene Lemarchand (1993, p. 159) rightly observes in respect of the
Burundian case. The same is true of Rwanda where the two conflict groups
share one language, Kinyarwanda, in addition to other things.
6. The role played by `myths of common origins` in ethnic identity
construction and reconstruction in comparative perspective can be found
analysed in most of the standard works within the field. Of these, I have
found Tonkin et al. (1989) particularly useful, because of its emphasis of the
pseudo-scientific nature of such ethnographic accounts.
7. This theme has been fully developed in one of Lemarchand’s (1994b) most
recent publications on the subject.
8. By `elites` here I imply not just the leadership of the two conflict groups but
also those of their members occupying the top hierarchies of government,
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66 J. `Bayo Adekany e
the army and other security forces, the civil service, colleges and
universities, state-owned enterprises and businesses, organized labour, and
churches, and all competing with one another for influence within and
across these institutions of state power.
9. Wallerstein (1960, p. 131) was one of the first to underline this dynamic
element in the definition of ethnicity: `membership in an ethnic group`, he
had written, `is a matter of social definition, an inter-play of the self-
definition of members and the definition of other groups`.
10. Thus, the years from 1966 to 1976 have been described by Lemarchand
(1993, p. 163) as a period in Burundian history when `coup-making became
essentially an intra-Tutsi affair, reflecting ethno-regional tensions and
disagreem ents among the different factions of the army`, although at the
same time `setting in motion a circulation of elites within the armed forces`.
In the same vein, Lemarchand elsew here (1994a, pp. 599± 602) documents
how Habyarimana’s Hutu-dominated Rwandan regime, especially during
its last four years in office from 1990 to 1994, came to be acutely plagued by
similar ethno-regional tensions .
11. The basic texts here include Maquet (1961), Lemarchand (1970), and
Newbury (1988).
12. The pre-colonial Rwandan social structure has been described as pyramidal
in shape and occupied by three authority chieftains, the Land Chief
(traditionally always a Hutu), Arm y Chief (a Mutwa), and Cattle Chief (a
Tutsi) symbolized by the three hills that form a geographical ring around
the country. At the top of that pyramid, it is said, had sat the Land Chief.
One of the effects of colonialism was to replace this relatively decentralized
authority system with a hierarchicalized structure, fusing the Cattle (Tutsi)
and Army Chief (Mutwa) roles into one, abolishing the authority of the
Land Chief and therefore the measure of Hutu autonomy going along with
it, and have the latter’ s position as well as that vacated by the Cattle Tutsi
replaced by the Colonial Governm ent and the Priest (Catholic Church)
respectively. I owe this insight to Rev. Benjamin K. Nwangi, Diakonia
Mission, Nairobi, Kenya, in a private communication to this author on 27
October 1994.
13. There is as yet no published work in the English language detailing the
ethnic make-up of the army organizations inherited by Rwanda and
Burundi from colonial rule. The bits and pieces of information about the
Tutsi-dominant nature of these organizations are those from basic texts on
the two countries earlier identified in N ote 11. To these must be added hints
from sources on comparative colonial recruitment practices such as analysed
by Adekanye (1979a, 1995b), Enloe (1980a), Kirk-Greene (1980), and
Echenberg (1990). Some useful discussions on the specific contribution of
colonialism to the political and military ranking of the Bahutu and Batutsi
as ethnic groups can be found in chapter two of Lema (1993).
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Rwanda/Burundi: `Uni-ethnic’ D om inance and Arm ed Ethnic Form ations 67
14. The other two identifiable alternatives, ideally, are either to recruit and
organize on an ethnic-proportional basis by assigning formal quotas to
groups according to their relative demographic and political strengths
whether actual or perceived; or to recruit and organize on a national basis,
by targeting some supposedly non-ethnic social categories (e.g., workers,
peasants, unemployed, women, the youth, etc.). For case-studies of these
other two military-ethnic formations, see Adekanye (1976b, 1980, 1983, and
1989).
15. This proposition is adapted from Blalock, Jr (1976, p. 215).
16. It is more correct to say that because the theory in its original formulation
had been mostly concerned with multi-ethnic societies that are `segmented`,
meaning territorially demarcated and largely unranked, the external
dimensions of the problem pursued could only have dealt with the issues
of secession, irredenta, and ex-diaspora ethnics straddling given state
boundaries . Obviously, those dimensions of ethnic strife are rare in ranked
systems such as Rwanda and Burundi. There is a sense in which it can be
argued that the cycles of `refugee-warriors` often thrown up by ethnically
ranked systems are but the structural equivalent of the wars of secession,
partition, and irredenta fought in multi-ethnically segmented political
settings. But those violent cycles of `refugee-warriors` in which the Hutu
and Tutsi groups find themselves caught as part of the conflicts between
them are also a way of saying that because of absence of geographical
homogeneity in the distribution of ethnic aggregates, armed secessions and
partitions as a method of resolving those conflicts are inherently
inapplicable.
17. Our analysis here concurs with Lemarchand ’s (1994a, p. 583) observation
regarding the rise to power of the RPF `refugee-w arriors` in Rwanda: `By a
prank of history the restoration of minority rule under their auspices brings
Rwanda back to where it stood before the 1959± 62 revolution Ð on the
brink of yet another cycle of ethnic violence,` emphasis supplied. What
Lemarchand calls the `prank of history` is similar to the `iron law` of change
in uni-ethnic military dominance that I have postulated here.
18. As we have long been reminded by Eckstein et al. (1964) and Kelley, et al.
(1971).
19. A frica Confidential (London), 35 (16), 12 August, 1994, pp. 1 ± 3.
20. A frica Confidential (London), 36 (4), 17 February, 1995, pp. 5± 6.
21. Reuters , quoted Human Rights Network, `Rwanda’s ousted army genera l
seeks peace`, 28 February 1995.
22. Which, understandably, would be the way the new RPF government would
describe the situation. But it has also become the interpretation of a number
of the foreign aid workers and human rights activists either currently based
at or intermittently reporting from Goma, see for example Judith Matloff,
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68 J. `Bayo Adekany e
`Why Nearly Two Hutus Prefer to Stay Outside Rwanda,` Human Rights
Network/Africa, 31 March 1995.
23. To adapt the apt phrase used by Africa Confidential (London), 31 (20), 12
October 1990, pp. 1 ± 2, for characterizing one of the earlier invasions by
Rwandan Tutsi-led refugees against the then Hutu-controlled Rwandan
governm ent.
24. For materials bearing on this and the involvement by other related foreign
interests in the last Rwandan war, including most especially the issue of
arms supplies to the combatants, see Goose and Smyth (1994); Human
Rights Watch (1994); Omaar and de Waal (1995). Also, see Note 26 below.
25. On the latter, see Lemarchand (1973, 1994b).
26. And these may have contributed to some of the latest attacks and
murderous actions by Tutsi-led troops against all `suspected` Intagohekas,
ex-palipehutu , or FROLINA elements or supporters in northern Burundi,
prompting another wave of civilian Hutu refugees crossing into Tanzania.
27. See Adekanye (1994 and 1995a). A more focused analysis dealing
specifically with the Rwandan case is provided by Michel Chossuddovsky
(1994).
28. Concerning the contribution of these `core issues of population and land` to
the scale and savagery of the massacres that have become Rwanda/Burundi
especially in most recent years, one correspondent, Anver Versi (1994, p. 13),
has written thus:
An invisible yet deep cause is the fact that both Rwanda and Burundi
are totally unsupportable populations. The hillsides are a maze of
small plots. The traditional land-tenure system encourages parcelling
out of scarce land into even tinier fragments . This has led to the
exhaustion of land, pushing yet more people onto already
overcrowded pieces. The fall in the price of the countries’ main export
crop, coffee, has meant that more has to be produced to maintain
income levels. More coffee means less food. The pressure on the prime
source of survival, land, has provoked the M althusian nightmare of
fam ine, war, and pestilence [emphasis added].
29. Lemarchand’s writings in the domain are legion, but for the most
immediately relevant ones, see Lemarchand (1970, 1993, 1994a, and 1994b).
30. To borrow the useful term employed by Lemarchand (1993, p. 169).
31. Witness how a mere cabinet controversy betw een UPRONA and FRODEBU
over demands for Anatole Kanyenkiko’ s resignation or continuing
appointment as prime minister in early February 1995 came to assume acute
inter-political tensions , and visible at least at three levels , namely in the
relations between the two coalition parties, the Hutu and Tutsi communities ,
governm ent and army. The controversy almost threatened to plunge the
country into civil war until FRODEBU as senior partner in the coalition
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Rwanda/Burundi: `Uni-ethnic’ D om inance and Arm ed Ethnic Form ations 69
governm ent bowed to the wishes of the UPRONA party by getting
Kanyenkiko replaced by another Tutsi political leader as prime minister .
Kanyenkiko was accused of giving in too much to the Hutu-dominated
FRODEBU party in respect of the power-sharing arrangement and the
distribution of political and administrative posts going with it.
32. Burundi’ s senior army officials how ever deny that their troops are
responsible for these latest violent clashes resulting in Hutu refugees fleeing
the north-western provinces of the country into Tanzania, and charge
Burundian Hutu extremist militias combined with their ex-Rwandan
counterparts rather to have instigated these events, see Note 26 above.
33. A frica Confidential (London), `Burundi: Buyoya’s Rubicon`, 31 (20), 12
October 1990, p. 3.
34. Nor are the recent actions taken by the Tutsi-controlled Rwandan Patriotic
Army (RPA) against the Kibeho Camp the kind likely to create a climate of
reconciliation with the Hutu majority . See The Econom ist (London), `Rwanda:
From Awful to Worse`, 29 April 1995, pp. 54, 57.
35. `The Cases of Burundi and Rwanda`, it has been argued (Adekanye, 1995a,
p. 362), `bring out, in their grimmest form yet, what happens when
increasingly frustrating socio-economic conditions (including those
associated with debt and adjustment) coincide with pressures for
democratization on the one hand and pre-existing lines of ethnic inequality
on the other.`
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