"There is a saying in Rwanda that Rwandans must swallow their tears

"There is a saying in Rwanda that Rwandans must swallow their tears. They do. If they did not, they would surely drown."

(Palmer, 1995, p. 459)

Nearly fifty years after the Holocaust, and one hundred years after the first arrival of Europeans in their land, the people of Rwanda suffered one of the most efficient episodes of mass killing in modern times. Because of its scale and brutality, the outlines of the Rwandan genocide are well known. The facts of the matter are these: from early April to mid-July of 1994, some 800,000 Rwandans were killed, about 10 percent of the pre-genocide population. The victims were predominantly Tutsi; the perpetrators, predominantly Hutu. The slaughter ended when the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) gained control of Kigali, the capital city, and the remnants of the Hutu government fled to neighboring countries. In the end, a plan aimed at solidifying Hutu power and identity ended with thousands of Rwandans displaced from their homes and thousands of corpses piled up on the floors of local churches.

The genocide in Rwanda has deeply entangled roots. In recent years, it has been analyzed from a number of angles, and several rich narratives have emerged (Keane, 1995; Gourevitch, 1998). One of the dimensions of the genocide which has begun to receive more attention is its impact on Rwandan children. It is estimated that some 300,000 young people died during the genocide (Women's Commission, 1997). Those who survived carry both physical wounds and the psychological scars of witnessing the death of family members.

This paper will begin with an analysis of the genocide itself, then proceed to discuss its impact on children and the potential for healing and prevention. As a framework for the discussion, I rely primarily on the theoretical model developed by Staub (1989) in his book, The Roots of Evil. Whereas most scholars of genocide have applied political and sociological lenses to the phenomenon, Staub seeks to understand the psychological underpinnings of genocide and mass killing. His model takes account of the preconditions leading to genocide in terms of social conditions, group identity, and cultural dispositions. It also explores the psychology of perpetrators and the role of bystanders in enabling or discouraging mass killing. Rather than elaborating on these elements here, their meaning will be developed throughout the paper in reference to the Rwandan case.

Difficult Life Conditions

Of the instigators of genocide, the most important overarching factor is what Staub calls "difficult life conditions" (1989, p. 13). During periods of economic depravation and political instability, basic human needs can be frustrated. People do not feel safe, and they may feel anxious about the status and welfare of their group. Feeling threatened, group members look for any means available to understand and improve their situation. Thus, difficult life conditions set the stage for scapegoating and other destructive ideologies.

Difficult life conditions were certainly present in Rwanda before the genocide. Rwanda is one of the smallest and most densely populated states in Africa. There is a great amount of pressure on land since, as is often the case in post-colonial nations, large tracts are owned by relatively few people. In 1991, 16 percent of the people held 43 percent of all cultivated land (Des Forges, 1999). In addition to a chronic shortage of land, Rwanda suffered the crash of the coffee market in 1987 and a famine in 1989 (Smith, 1998). The currency was devalued by 40 percent in 1990 in response to demands for restructuring by the International Monetary Fund. Angry with their government, peasants organized cooperatives and dissident publications sprouted. In 1991, 50,000 people rallied in Kigali to protest (Smith, 1998).

Two other events threatened national stability and the hegemony of Rwanda's Hutu elite. First, in October of 1990, troops of the Tutsi-led RPF invaded from Uganda. Although halted by government forces and French military support, the RPF continued exerting pressure throughout the early 1990s. The other source of political unrest was the introduction of multi-party politics in 1990-91. A concession to international demands to end single-party rule, multi-party politics led to the rapid rise of several opposition parties. Among insiders in the Haberyimana regime, there was a shaken confidence in their ability to maintain control. The state was undergoing a "crisis of legitimacy" (Smith, 1998). The Arusha accords, a compromise power-sharing agreement with the RPF reached in 1993, deeply alienated and angered Hutu extremists. By 1994, these conditions had prepared the foundation upon which group violence might more easily be built.

Identity: Ideology and Devaluation

Plagued by difficult life conditions, groups tend to devalue others and reify their own identity in an effort to satisfy their need for a positive self-concept (Staub, 1989). In Rwanda, efforts to bolster Hutu identity led Hutu extremists to engage in a pervasive campaign of devaluation of the Tutsis. Before discussing this effort, however, it is important to discuss how identity became the fault line which split Rwanda apart.

The dynamics of identity in Rwanda are complex. On the surface, there is little to distinguish Tutsi from Hutu. With some 400 years of co-existence in Rwanda, they share a common language and cultural norms. Intermarriage is not uncommon. In most cases, the only way to identify individuals is according to the label on their identity cards.

In part, ethnic categorization in Rwanda is an artificial colonial legacy. After gaining control of the area from the Germans, the Belgians preferred to rule at a distance through the established power structure of the local Tutsi chiefs. Influenced by the "Hametic theory"--that Tutsi were the descendants of Noah's son, Ham--the Belgians tended to view the Tutsi as racially similar to themselves, as Europeans under a black skin (Destexhe, 1995, p. 38). The Belgians supported the mythology of Tutsi superiority and extended it into a policy of Hutu suppression. In 1933, the Belgians instituted identity cards, solidifying what, in the past, may have been permeable ethnic categories. Earlier, ethnicity had been conflated with class: a Hutu could become a Tutsi by virtue of owning a certain number of cattle (Keane, 1995). Once the ethnic categories hardened, however, the Tutsi-controlled government could use them to strengthen their hold on power. They controlled access to education and employment opportunities. Hutus were labeled as less intelligent and naturally subservient (Des Forges, 1995). Thus, a sense of inferiority developed which Hutu extremists could use in inciting fear of the Tutsi.

The identities carried by the Tutsi and Hutu became pervasive psychological elements of the genocide. The ruling Hutu elite in Rwanda felt threatened by the social and political upheaval in the early 1990s. As suggested above, the colonial discourse of ethnicity had established the Hutu as unequal to the Tutsi. In their own ideological discourse about the RPF and Tutsi, Hutu extremists played upon past victimization. They revived old stereotypes of Tutsi identity: a cunning, repressive people alien to Rwanda (Des Forges, 1995). The identity used to justify Tutsi domination in the past was used to justify the need for their elimination. The Hutu leaders portrayed the nation as vulnerable to Tutsi aggression, even claiming that the RPF intended to commit genocide against the Hutu--unless the Hutu struck first.

Genocide, as Fein (1999) has argued, is a rational act, a calculated measure. What did Hutu extremists believe they would gain by the killings? Primarily, their motivation was to consolidate political control in the face of growing political fragmentation (Smith, 1998; Lemarchand, 1995; Des Forges, 1999). As Gourevitch wryly observes, "genocide, after all, is an act of community building" (1998, p. 95). Threatened on several fronts--by the RPF militarily, by opposition parties politically--they needed to unify Hutus against a common enemy. The Hutu extremists differentiated between "us" and "them" by dividing their world into faithful Rwandans and "accomplices of the enemy" (Des Forges, 1999, p. 3). The key to the genocide was labeling the Tutsi population as accomplices of the RPF; thus, the entire Tutsi population became that enemy.

To galvanize ethnic division in the months leading up the genocide, a powerful campaign of devaluation was launched. The campaign emanated from the Akazu, the circle of elites surrounding the Rwandan President. The primary vehicle of devaluation was the radio, a highly influential information source for most Rwandans. Only days after the signing of the Arusha power-sharing accords, Radio Milles Collines began broadcasting (Gourevitch, 1998). Financed by government insiders, the station was powered by electricity from the generators at the Presidential mansion in Kigali (Chalk, 1999). Radio Milles Collines fomented suspicion of the Tutsi and psychological devaluation. The primary message was simple: the Tutsis are villainous colonizers bent on harming Hutus. Therefore, they must be killed. In order to dehumanize the Tutsi, the messages replaced the word "Tutsi" with "invenzi" (cockroach).

The devaluation was codified in what was known as the "Hutu Ten Commandments." Published in December of 1990, this document proclaimed that Tutsis were dishonest in business and interested only in dominating the Hutu, that Tutsi women were suspect, and that Tutsis should be denied positions of influence. The document also called for the Hutu to unify against their common enemy and stop having mercy on the Tutsi (Berry and Berry, 1999, p. 114-15). Such directives placed Tutsis outside the sphere of moral concern for the Hutu populace. It pushed toward what Staub calls a "reversal of morality" (1989, p. 18) in which violence against a target group is seen as virtuous service to the higher goals of a dominant group.

Cultural Preconditions: Antagonism and authority orientation

Staub (1989) identifies several cultural preconditions for genocide. They include authority orientation and an ideology of antagonism. In the case of Rwanda, these factors played an important role in enabling the killing.

The concept of "ideology of antagonism" highlights the legacy of past violence and devaluation, often unhealed wounds which set the stage for further violence. Past experiences of persecution support the belief that another group is a security threat.

During the years of Tutsi domination in Rwanda, Hutus were largely excluded from civil and political life. Access to jobs and economic resources were limited, and Hutus developed resentment against Tutsis. In 1959, when Hutus rebelled again Belgian colonial rule, thousands of Tutsi were killed and an estimated 150,000 Tutsis fled to Burundi. As Belgians began to withdraw from Rwanda, the nation became independent. Attacks on Tutsis escalated. An estimated 10 20,000 Tutsi were killed in the early 1960's and eventually half of the Rwandan Tutsis were living outside Rwanda.

From a psychological perspective, the authority orientation of the population suggests the degree to which people will follow the dictates of those in power. In Rwanda, there is ample evidence of a powerful authority orientation. In his visits to prisons after the genocide, Zarembo (1997) gives several examples of deeply ingrained deference to authority. For example, when government officials visit, prisoners clap respectfully. Prisoners working as cooks are entrusted with machetes--the very instrument some of them may have used to murder their neighbors. Zarembo even tells the story of a several suspected genocidaires who were broken out of their prison, only to return voluntarily. They wanted to obey the law.

Could such apparently conscientious people actually have been ruthless killers during the genocide? Zarembo (1997) argues that the authority orientation in Rwandan society is precisely what enabled otherwise docile citizens to become killers. People were in the habit of doing what they were told. Morality was understood as following the commands of those in power. Their government, in daily messages, was telling them that the Tutsis were a threat to the nation. And they did what the government asked them to do: "killing was the law, and Rwandans followed it" (Zarembo, 1997, p. 80).

Evolution of Violence

During the three months of killing, an estimated 75 150,000 people participated in the atrocities (Jefremovas, 1995). While historical antagonism and authority orientation prepare the way for mass violence, they do not fully explain how people learn to kill. To understand the violence in Rwanda, it is essential to examine how members of the public were prepared to become killers.

Mass killings rarely happen without precedent. Typically, less severe acts of violence pave the way for more egregious crimes. As Staub (1989) explains, people learn by doing: actions that harm others change the actor, lowering the barriers to further acts of aggression. Thus, in genocidal situations, large-scale killings are usually preceded by other incidents, incidents which ultimately become part of a "continuum of destruction" (p. 17). In Rwanda, there were several aspects to the continuum of destruction.

The RPF invasion in 1990 provided a rationale for the government to prepare the public for further violence. Hutu leaders called for the development of civil defense groups. The pretext of civil defense against the Tutsi invaders enabled the spread of further messages of devaluation and greater militarization of extremist sympathizers. Groups were gathered and provided training in the skills which would be later put to use in the killing of Tutsis: the use of grenades, the construction of roadblocks, the burning of houses. Only hours after the President's plane was shot down, roadblocks were erected across Kigali and the previous training was put into practice.

The breakdown of politics as usual was another factor which led to public violence. From 1962 to 1990, Rwanda was ruled by one party, the Mouvement Revolutionnaire National pour le Developpment (MRND). The advent of multi-party politics led to a destabilized political landscape, with several upstart parties wrestling for power. At a local level, this led to increased tensions and aggression. Opposition parties attempted to "liberate" members of other parties through intimidation. Attacks began symbolically, and physical violence soon followed (Wagner, 1998). In the angry political atmosphere of the time, genocide was "but a short step from the mundane routinized violence that had already taken over everyday life" (Wagner, 1998, p.36).

For a genocide to occur, there must be killers ready to do the job. In the early 1990s, militias emerged in Rwanda as the tensions between parties escalated. The militia sponsored by the MRND, the interahamwe, became the main perpetrator of violence against the Tutsis. Like other paramilitary groups, the interahamwe was attractive to jobless young men looking for an affiliation that promised identity and power over others.

The militias used symbols of wealth and power to attract youth and initiate them into the practices of terror. Gourevitch (1998) vividly captures the development of the militia:

Hutu Power youth leaders, jetting around on motorbikes and sporting pop hairstyles, dark glasses, and flamboyantly colored pajama suits and robes, preached ethnic solidarity and civil defense to increasingly packed rallies, where alcohol usually flowed freely, giant banners splashed with hagiographic portraits of Habyarimana flapped in the breeze, and paramilitary drills were conducted like the latest hot dance moves. The President and his wife often turned out to be cheered at these spectacles, while in private the members of the interahamwe were organized into small neighborhood bands, drew up lists of Tutsis, and went on retreats to practice burning houses, tossing grenades, and hacking dummies up with machetes (p. 93).

The formation of the militias was an instrumental preparation for the genocide. Initiation ceremonies as described above insured loyalty to the ruling party, developed positive connection within the group, and built confidence that illegal actions were endorsed by the state.

To spread the violence beyond trained troops and militias at the onset of the genocide, it was necessary to bring civilians into the circle of killers. Local leaders offered incentives for those who would join the death squads: the promise of vacated fields, farm animals, building materials, and cash (Des Forges, 1999). Leaders also threatened people who would not collaborate. The threats, material incentives, and experience of membership in a group of killers enabled otherwise non-aggressive individuals to murder.

At an individual level, the evolution of violence is well illustrated in a case discussed by Zarembo (1997). He interviewed a farmer named Innocent Nsengiyumva imprisoned for killing two children. His story indicates how simply murder can become part of a day's work:

Killing was a job. The local Hutu official had a list of victims, and each morning the peasants gathered with their weapons--machetes for most, a homemade wooden club spiked with nails for Innocent. For the first week he only watched, he says, 'like a child watching something his father is doing.' The killers drank at the bars they passed, went home for lunch, and resumed in the afternoons. His turn came when the crowd spotted the two children. They didn't try to escape, he says, and didn't scream until he sunk the nails into the side of one of their heads (1997, p. 70).

Like so many perpetrators before him, Innocent claimed that he was following the dictates of the government. He was told by local officials that he was fighting for his country, and he believed them. After Zarembo asked what might have happened had Innocent refused to kill, Innocent replied, "Nobody refused" (1997, p. 70).

Small acts of violence can move individuals further along the continuumunless there are countervailing forces which pull them back and force them to question their actions. Unfortunately, Rwandan society found nothing wrong with killing Tutsis. Periodic massacres of Tutsis had gone unpunished in the recent past. The government portrayed killings as spontaneous to international agencies, even though the killings usually followed political meetings at which anti-Tutsi sentiment was deliberately fanned (Gourevitch, 1998). Because the government did not treat such violence as a crime, Rwanda developed a "culture of impunity" (Berry & Berry, 1999, p. 2). As Lemarchand (1995) points out, the genocide would not have happened if the extremists did not believe they could get away with murder.

Social Organization

One of the facilitating factors for efficient mass killing not specifically addressed in Staub's model is that of social infrastructure. When it came time for killing to begin, the evolution of violence in Rwanda was supported by a command-and-control mode of social organization. One of Rwanda's colonial legacies was its dense system of social organization, a hierarchy which extended central power to the village level (Zarembo, 1997). This system enabled the efficient transfer of official instructions from Kigali to rural areas (Des Forges, 1999). Local administrators throughout the country helped mark Tutsi for death and provided weapons to the mobs. In his book, Season of Blood, Keane (1995) recounts visiting a deserted government office in which he found drawers full of identity cards, an index easily used to mark for death.

Another matter of social structure was the manipulation of work. For years, the Rwandan government had issued calls for umuganda, two days per month of public service. Citizens responded by working on appointed projects. The practice of umuganda embedded the habit of lending a hand to service of the nation. Although the practice could serve positive social ends in other times, it could also be manipulated to transform murder of other citizens as fulfilling the higher call of service to the nation. During the genocide, hunting and murdering Tutsis was referred to as "work," work done with the everyday "tools" of rural life (Des Forges, 1999).

Bystanders

Staub's model is unique in identifying bystanders as key actors in the development of genocide. Active bystanders can retard the development of genocide by questioning the morality of the messages and actions which prepare people for killing. Passive bystanders, on the other hand, convey a sense of acceptance, often interpreted by killers as approval for their actions. Passivity also leads to the devaluation of victims on the part of bystanders (Staub, 1989).

During the period of political instability in the early 1990s, allegiances became clear. Wagner (1998) reports that the aggressive tactics of political parties revealed who might join them, who might oppose them, and who might simply watch. So just as some individuals were prepared for killing, others were prepared for roles as passive bystanders. In this way, the genocide itself became a final act for roles that had been well rehearsed.

The ideological groundwork for the genocide supported the passivity of Hutu bystanders. As noted above, the Hutu commandments dictated that Hutus show no compassion for the Tutsi. Other pronouncements of RPF villainy reinforced the message that the killing of Tutsis was legitimate. At the same time, genocide leaders targeted Hutus who resisted. The militias attacked politically-moderate Hutus, those known to be lukewarm to the ideology of Hutu Power. Through their ideology and acts of intimidation, Hutu extremists were assured that there would by no organized Hutu resistance to mass violence.

At another level, the most visible bystanders to the genocide in Rwanda were those nations which understood the events unfolding but failed to respond effectively. The political dimensions of this issue are more complex than can be discussed here. Briefly, it is important to note that the commander of the UN peacekeeping force stationed in Rwanda at the time, General Dallaire, warned UN officials about the impending violence. As violence erupted, Belgian soldiers were intentionally targeted on the assumption that Western nations--already feeling vulnerable from perceived failure in Somalia--would remove troops and avoid entanglement. Their assumption proved correct. There was feeble response in the UN as the violence escalated. Western nationals were evacuated, and Rwandans were left to die. American officials were instructed not to use the term "genocide" in official discourse to avoid invocation of the Genocide Convention. The French government later responded by creating a zone of protection which harbored Hutu genocidaires. Their actions supported the perpetuation of violence in refugee camps.

Positive bystanders could have had a powerful impact on events in Rwanda. Additional troops may have allowed peacekeepers to effectively stop the militias. One of the simplest actions the international community might have undertaken was jamming or destroying the radio transmitters which spread the extremist message across the country (Chalk, 1999). Later genocidairs continued to foment fear in refugee camps in Zaire with a portable transmitter.

The international protests that were voiced found listeners in Rwanda. According to Des Forges (1999), international protests were discussed at all civil levels, including local meetings. Had the international community done more to discredit the government during the genocide, Des Forges argues, the would-be killers may have had more reason to doubt the inducements to kill issued by the government. Within Rwanda, the church failed to act as a positive bystander during the genocide. Historically, the Christian denominations were allied with the Hutu government. They did little to speak out against the massacres of Tutsis. The church now has an opportunity to model reconciliation efforts by admitting its mistakes, denouncing all forms of violence, and supporting healing (Schonecke, 1995).

The Children of Rwanda

At this point, I would like to shift attention to the experience of children in the genocide. Too often, reports of genocide gloss over the impact of the killings on children. In Rwanda, so many children died and so many others witnessed violence that attention must be given to their plight for the sake of the nation's future. Without attention to healing, without support for positive self-valuation and connection to others, Rwandan children might be easily caught up in destructive ideologies and actions in the coming years.

The Hutu militias did not spare children. In fact, eliminating Tutsi children was seen as a critical dimension of eliminating the Tutsi presence in Rwanda (Destexhe, 1995). Militia members reminded each other: "We will not repeat the mistake of 1959. The children must be killed too" (Destexhe, 1995, p. 32). The mistake of 1959, of course, was the mistake of allowing Tutsi children to escape death when thousands of Tutsis were driven from Rwanda. Some of the young boys who left Rwanda in 1959 returned in 1990 as soldiers of the RPF.

During the genocide, Tutsi boys were primary targets because they were seen as the next generation of RPF fighters. The gender of infants was carefully checked, and infant boys were immediately murdered. Although Tutsi girls may not have been killed in the same numbers, they were often raped and held captive in sexual servitude.

The magnitude of the violence children experienced is staggering. In 1995, UNICEF conducted a survey of 3,000 Rwandan children2 ages 8 through 19 to assess the level of trauma they had experienced (Chauvin, Mugaju, & Comlavi, 1998). The findings indicate that, of those children surveyed:

95% had witnessed violence

80% had suffered a death in their immediate family

62% were threatened with death

Researchers from Africa Rights gathered stories of children's experiences during the genocide (Omar & de Waal, 1994). In their accounts, children are remarkably clear about the events they experienced. Typically, children fled their homes when the militias came to attack. Many were separated from their parents or siblings. Some survived by hiding in swamps or fields and scavenging food. Others were hidden by relatives. One boy who survived a massacre in a church was hidden by a Hutu uncle. The uncle dug a hole behind his house, putting a large sieve over the hole to enable the boy to breathe. The militias returned to the house often, and the boy remained in hiding for more than one month (Omar & de Waal, 1994).

There were also children who survived massacres in schools or churches after witnessing the murder of their family members. Those few who did survive shared a common strategy of hiding under the corpses around them and playing dead"completely dead"until the militias moved elsewhere (Omar & de Waal, 1994, p. 470).

Impact of Trauma

Violent events do not have the same impact on all children. Researchers point out that it is the child's response to an event, not an event per se, that causes trauma. Trauma occurs when the child "cannot give meaning to dangerous experiences in the presence of overwhelming arousal" (Garbarino & Kostenly, 1996, p. 39).

The outcomes of traumatic experience are multiple. In addition to suffering physiological damage, traumatized children are victims of their memories. Memories of traumatic episodes intrude into consciousness, and with them, feelings of fear and anxiety. Traumatized children may become hypervigilant, constantly surveying the environment for possible danger. They may be frightened by seemingly benign objects or noises that remind them of the violence they suffered or witnessed. Other consequences of traumatic experience included difficulty with concentration, sleep disturbances, and general developmental regression (Geltman & Stover, 1997).

For many children, a world which caused such pain cannot be trusted. At root, trauma is an attack on meaning, on the basic goodness and trustworthiness of the world. Trauma can result in a sense of distrust and fearthe "philosophical wound" (Garbarino & Kostenly, 1996, p. 47) which needs as much attention as physical wounds. Because trauma can also create self-devaluation, the traumatized child may feel less worthy of living a full life.

One of the most debilitating effects of trauma is referred to as "diminished expectations". In other words, trauma can rob children of their future. According to a UNICEF survey, 60% of children surveyed did not care if they grew up (UNICEF, 1999). Without their family members to support them and lead the way forward, they can no longer imagine themselves in the future. The experience of extreme violence has taken away the possibility of a future worth living into. Traumatized adults may reinforce a bleak outlook. Palmer (1995) reports that Rwandan parents seemed unmoved by the death of their children. One parent's comment about a murdered child may be typical: "Well, what future would he have had anyway?"

For many children, the trauma of genocide has, literally, stolen their voices. Several observers in Rwanda tell of children who remain mute, unable or unwilling to communicate. They refuse to eat; they sit in silent isolation. In short, they are dying of sorrow (Keane, 1995). In the years following the genocide, sadness has become an established part of Rwanda's collective emotional life. A girl explains how she feels: "I feel sad, but it's normal, isn't it? Everybody loses somebody" (Maykuth, 1998, p. 7) Like so many other Rwandans, she has learned to swallow her tears.

Orphans and child-headed households

The exact number of children orphaned by the genocideas is the case for any precise assessment about the genocide's consequences--is not known. In 1994, it was estimated by the Rwandan government that 400,000 children had been separated or orphaned. Another figure from the Red Cross estimates 45,000 children orphaned or separated (Women's Commission, 1997). By any count, there are thousands of children who have lost the caregiving relationships that sustained their lives.

A strong effort has been made to re-unite children with immediate family members through photographs posted in refugee centers and other sites. Through these efforts, thousands of children have been reunited with their parents (Women's Commission, 1997). Many orphans have also been placed in orphanages. Some 8,000 orphans are now living in 50 orphanages across the country (Women's Commission, 1997). Many orphaned children have been absorbed by Rwandan families. In 1995, the average number of children per family had increased from a pre-genocide number of 5.5 to 7 (UN Chronicle, 1996, p. 4).

For children who lost their parents, the genocide has ripped away the supportive layer between them and the adult world. According to UNICEF, there are 65,000 families headed by children 12 years of age and older (Maykuth, 1998). Over 300,000 children are growing up in households without adults--a total of nearly 10% of all children under the age of 18. Although the long-term consequences of so many children growing up without parents are unknown, it is clear that children on their own are more vulnerable to life stresses than others. Farm work may preclude attending school, and they may be isolated from peers. Young girls without adult protection may also be vulnerable to chronic sexual abuse (Women's Commission, 1997). In Rwanda, women have no legal right to own property. As girl survivors have returned to their family plots, they find themselves under pressure by neighbors and even male relatives. They can be easily exploited or dispossessed of property (Maykuth, 1998).

Child Perpetrators

Children are susceptible to the same forces which drive adults to kill. Boothby (1994) points out that child participation in violence is most common when social conditions are oppressive and economic resources are scarce. Children can be motivated to participate in violence in order to obtain food or assure their own security (Wessels, 1997). At an ideological level, children may be attracted to contribute to a liberation or nationalist struggle. In this way, the conditions for child participation in conflict mirror several of the general preconditions for group violence.

The role of child perpetrators in the Rwanda genocide is not fully known. UNICEF estimates there were 4,820 children involved in the armed forces on both sides of the conflict in Rwanda. While some children received militia training, others became involved with the violence spontaneously, encouraged to kill by family members and neighbors (UN Chronicle, 1996). During the genocide period, child perpetrators committed arson, rape, theft, and murder (Matloff, 1997). Hutu children also acted as informants, disclosing the location of nearby Tutsis (Wessels, 1997).

Rwanda has pursued punishment for child perpetrators. By 1995, 1,711 children had been imprisoned as suspected genocidaires. That number had increased to 2,137 by 1997 (Matloff, 1997). Children between the ages of 10 and 17 make up approximately 2% of the prison population (UN Chronicle, 1996). In prison, they face long waits for trials in abusive conditions.

There has been no attempt to reintegrate child perpetrators into their home communities. Such an approach has a precedent. In Mozambique, forgiveness has been favored over punishment. Boys who had been abducted by the rebel group RENAMO and committed violence in its service were seen as victims. The state has felt that it is better to re-integrate perpetrators into communities than punish them (Boothby, 1994). Such an approach can support healing, individually and socially. Positive relationships with adults enable child perpetrators to feel remorse for their actions (Boothby, 1994).

Healing the Future

The future of peace in Rwanda is, in part, contingent upon the healing of the youngest generation of genocide survivors. As a component of the overall healing effort, attention must be given to children's welfare in ways which integrate economic, social, and psychological needs. In this section, I will discuss approaches to healing generally and suggestions for educational responses to the genocide in Rwanda.

The work of Boothby (1994) and Wessels (1997) with child soldiers and child survivors of violence provides valuable insight into the dynamics of healing. The overarching imperative for healing is to "create a more positive social reality for the child" (Boothby, 1994, p. 250). Primarily, a positive social reality involves establishing caring relationships with adults. Positive relationships with adults support children's development: "child development is a partnership" (Garbarino, Kostenly, & Dubrow, 1991, p. 19). An adult can help children process their experience and make sense of a painful event. This is a critical process: recovery from trauma involves the re-integration of overwhelming events into the child's world. Safe, positive relationships provide the space for children to ask questions, communicate their feelings, and tell their stories (Geltman & Stover, 1997). For all of these reasons, the first priority of supporting the recovery of traumatized children is bringing them back into the care of an adult. The Rwandan government appears to be moving in this direction. More than 25,000 "social agents" have been trained since 1995 in supporting the recovery of traumatized children (Chuavin, Mugaju, & Comlavi, 1998). Yet well-coordinated, large-scale community efforts have not materialized.

Institutionalized supportorphanages or other such facilitiesare the least favorable environment for children's development. Child advocates suggest that, whenever possible, orphanages should be converted into community facilities (Women's Commission, 1997; Boothby, 1994). More family-like care is essential. Facilities should bring children together with the community in a secure environment, and offer opportunities for recreation and employment training. It is also important to note that efforts to support the recovery of children do not need to directly focus on children (Palmer, 1995). Because children's welfare is in many ways dependent on the welfare of families, support for vulnerable families is support for vulnerable children. Efforts to help children can in many cases start with attention to the economic and psychological welfare of women.

Western models of individual therapy may not be appropriate for adults or children healing from trauma in Rwanda. One of the first considerations in developing support programs should be how the local culture approaches matters of healing. Boothby makes the point clearly: "If culture is not taken into account, mental health responses will not focus on meaning, and the essential therapeutic task of encouraging the child to integrate war traumas into his or her worldview will not be accomplished" (1994, p. 251). In work with refugees and child soldiers in Africa, Boothby (1994) and Wessels (1997) describe the power of indigenous forms of healing to help children overcome trauma. Ritual performed by traditional healers can have powerful effects. Given the high profile of Christianity in Rwanda, one cultural consideration might be the role of the church. How might church-related ritual become an opportunity for psychological and spiritual cleansing among youth?

Genocide and School

In this section, I would like to discuss how schools in Rwanda might take a powerful role in healing and reconciliation. Schools have the potential to bring adults and children together to tell stories about their experience and build positive connections between groups.

There are signs that an agenda of reconciliation is being played out at the curricular level. Sutcliffe (1995) reports that the Tutsi government has suspended the teaching of history and civics. The minister of education believes that the lessons of the former textbooks had contributed to ethnic division. A new curriculum, aiming at "bias free" history and inclusion of human rights perspectives, is undergoing implementation. It may also be valuable to teach about the genocide itself, from perspectives that encourage empathy and understanding, rather than blame or victimization. Staub (in press) suggests that healing is aided by cognitive understanding of the origins of violence.

Yet before curricular responses can take hold, attention must be given to the school as a living community. Because of the genocide, the continuity of relationships between teachers and students has been broken. Some teachers, active in local politics, became perpetrators during the genocide (Omar & de Waal, 1994). Many teachers were killed, others fled. In 1995, only 30 percent of the teachers working before the genocide remained in Rwanda's schools (Sutcliffe, 1995).

Teachers are important figures in children's lives. They need to be trained in understanding the consequences of violence for children and in strategies for supporting children's recovery. It is critical, for instance, that teachers appreciate that traumatized children will have difficulty focusing their attention. Children may also be especially sensitive to environmental stimuli which remind them of the circumstances surrounding traumatic events. Because traumatic experience involves a sense of helplessness, teachers should be careful not to recreate conditions which lead to helplessness. In contrast to traditional modes of discipline and control-oriented teaching, a more emotionally warm environment would support children's recovery. A Chilean priest describes the healing power of care: "for these kids, the best medicine is affection" (Broussard, 1997, p. 36).

It is important for teachers to create a safe and caring community for learning. They can do so by modeling prosocial behavior, providing clear boundaries, and enabling children to contribute to the school community (Eliz, Zinns, Weissberg, et. al, 1997) Other techniques include practice in self-regulation. For example, a classroom might contain an "anger thermometer" which can help children describe their feelings and regulate intense emotions. Teachers should also make space for play. In play, children tend to re-enact traumatic events in an attempt to gain mastery over the outcome. Another important means of expression for children is drawing. The pictures and maps which children draw of their world can help them process their experience (Garbarino & Kostenly, 1996).

What might be done to heal the future in Rwanda? For adults and children, one of the most important strategies for long-term prevention may be an expanded sense of social efficacy. Just as violence evolves, step by step, so too does helping. Research on altruism in children suggests that children who help other children are more disposed to do so again in the future (Staub, 1999). Children who help others develop a confidence in their ability to help and a valuing of the welfare of others. In terms of schooling, policies should be established which promote service learning or other forms of community engagement. An emphasis on the needs of others can help wounded children overcome a focus on the self and, thus, serve as part of a "positive evolution" (Staub, in press, p. 33). Optimally, such activities would be cross-generational, linking youth with elders to broaden the range of adult caregivers.

The welfare of children and other considerations for a positive future

The welfare of children is inseparable from a nation's prospects for peace (Wessels, 1998). In considering options for healing and preventing future violence, it may be helpful to frame the effort in terms of children's welfare. How can the people of Rwanda develop policies and practices which are accountable to their wounded children?Investment in the welfare of children could become a common ground for dialogue and action among all parties.

Several concrete measures could be pursued. Support for child-headed households and women is essential. Community centers which encourage the processing of traumatic experience, connection to others, and contribution to community should be developed. Schools can also be employed in the service of reconciliation with greater attention to understanding trauma and creating a caring environment for students. Providing children with security and opportunities to develop a positive identity and sense of connection will make it less likely that they will be attracted to participation in violence in the future.

In the history of genocide, Rwanda is exceptional for having the target group take control of the country following the violence. Theoretically, a Tutsi-led government has a great potential for promoting reconciliation. It could help move the country beyond past ideologies of antagonism and support the positive valuation of all groups. Officially, the RPF-led government has committed itself to pluralism and inclusion. The government has publicly advocated a shift away from the use of ethnic categories for identifying people. Nevertheless, anxieties remain about the real commitment to democracy in Rwanda. Hutus in the government are figureheads (Zarembo, 1997). Widespread suspicion continues, as do listings of internal enemies (Wagner, 1998). In the future, greater efforts must be made to develop a truly pluralistic political environment in Rwanda, an environment in which violence is no longer tolerated as a tool of power.

There are many important considerations for reconciliation in Rwanda. In closing, I will address only a few. The politics of language will play an important role. The genocide affected everyone. Yet, as Wagner (1998) notes, typically only Tutsis are referred to as "survivors". The government and international agencies should acknowledge that everyone in Rwanda has suffered loss, rather than assuming that only Tutsis deserve attention. The genocide and its aftermath--massive uprooting, fear, continued killings--affect the entire nation. Dialogue about these issues at the top levels of government would be helpful (Staub, in press). Another suggestion involves the use of radio as a tool of peace (Chalk, 1999). The radio could promote the valuation of both Hutus and Tutsis and report actively on human rights abuses. Overall, the new government must make every effort to create a civil society in which individuals can form positive connections across former antagonisms and talk openly about the conditions which led to the killings. By including concern for the welfare of children, such dialogue can help build hope in Rwanda.

References

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Basic human needs, according to Staub (in press), include needs for positive identity, positive connection, effectiveness, and understanding.

From the available documentation, it is not clear if the sample population for the survey was representative. The high percentages suggest that Tutsi children, or genocide survivors, were the primary sample population.

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