Tag Archives genocide

What can be done to address healthcare violations in Gaza?

On 29 February 2024, I presented in a panel at the Erasmus Medical Centre in Rotterdam on “The right to healthcare under fire”. The event was organised by Artsen Voor Gaza (Doctors for Gaza) a Dutch group of physicians, medical students and medical researchers. Alongside compelling presentations from Dr. Loes de Kleijn, Dr. Kamal El Mokayad and Haya Al Farra, I spoke of the legal context of the ongoing, genocidal violence in Gaza and more importantly what can be done.

CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

The War in Gaza has a context

Since the attacks in Southern Israel and Israel’s operation in Gaza called “Iron Swords” from October 2023, Israel has destroyed the majority of Gaza’s infrastructure, including its medical infrastructure. As I wrote already on 12 October 2023, the war in Gaza has an important context. Unfortunately, as the Israeli Professor of History Ilan Pappe has observed, there is an active effort to de-historicize the conflict, which serves as a backing to Israel in its genocidal violence against Palestinians in Gaza.

Despite Israel’s withdrawal of settlements and redeployment of forces in 2005, Israel has continued to occupy the 365 km2 territory of Gaza, including mounting a siege that has severely restricted basic needs. The majority of Gazans are under the age of 20 and have never left the territory. Most are refugees (and their descendants), forcibly displaced from their homes in 1948, which are maintained by what a Palestinian Professor of History, Nur Masalha describes as a politics of denial.

From a humanitarian angle, most Gazans have been largely dependent on direct United Nations assistance ever since the ‘Nakba’ in 1948, and in particular the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA). This makes it all the more concerning that states have been seeking to defund UNRWA, following (as yet unfounded) Israeli allegations that its staff were complicit in the October attacks, a move described as “reckless” by a senior, Washington-based analyst.

 

“I am so scared”

So often we hear Palestinians referred to as statistics. While this potentially enables people to process the horrors of what is happening, as the poet and commentator Ramsey Nasr reminds us, those who have been killed had names, and we must remember them.

Two names and stories of two Gazans among the more than 30.000 (at the time of writing) who have been killed since October 2023 were recalled during the Event at Erasmus Medical Centre. One who was remembered was Hind Rajab. She was 5 or 6 years old when her family car came under fire by Israeli soldiers in Gaza City on 29 January 2024, she made a phone call to the Palestinian Red Crescent. “I am so scared,” she said. “Call someone to come get me, please.” Sadly, after more than two weeks of frantic efforts to reach her, Hind’s body was recovered a few days later on 3 February, along with those of relatives and two Red Crescent rescue workers that had been sent to find her. Their family car was riddled with bullets.

Another Gazan who was remembered was Refaat Alareer, a Palestinian Professor, poet and activist from Gaza who taught English literature at the Islamic University of Gaza.

 

The Functions of International Law in relation to Atrocity Crimes

The case brought by South Africa against Israel on genocide charges has raised the prospect of international law, and international legal institutions, finally serving to help end the bloodshed and longstanding impasse between Israel and the Palestinians. In this context, it is worthwhile to understand the functions of international law in seeking to prevent, protect against and seek accountability for atrocity crimes.

First, in its regulatory function, international law sets limits on military conduct, in particular to prevent the commission of atrocity crimes, including the crime of apartheid and the crime of genocide. Secondly, in its protection function, international law aims to protect civilians and humanitarian workers (and civilian and humanitarian infrastructure). Finally, and perhaps most importantly in the present context, international law has an accountability function; this comprises a collective obligation to investigate and prosecute individual violators, including war crimes directed against civilian medical personnel and the crime of genocide.

Accordingly, various, specific measures protect medical personnel and infrastructure, including Article 19 of the Geneva Conventions that they “may in no circumstances be attacked, but shall at all times be respected and protected by the Parties to the conflict”. Article 8 of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court provides that individuals who are found to have been “intentionally directing attacks against buildings, material, medical units and transport, and personnel using the distinctive emblems of the Geneva Conventions in conformity with international law” have committed war crimes.

 

Preliminary Measures by the International Court of Justice

After two days of oral hearings on 11 and 12 January 2024 from legal teams representing South Africa and Israel, the ICJ came back on 26 January with a set of Provisional Measures, as requested by South Africa. Each of the Provisional Measures were separately voted upon, all of which received an overwhelming majority, including the following:

“The State of Israel shall take immediate and effective measures to enable the provision of urgently needed basic services and humanitarian assistance to address the adverse conditions of life faced by Palestinians in the Gaza Strip.”

In justifying these measures, the Court “took note” of several statements by United Nations officials, including a statement made by the United Nations Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs and Emergency Relief Coordinator, Mr Martin Griffiths, on 5 January 2024:

“Gaza has become a place of death and despair… Medical facilities are under relentless attack. The few hospitals that are partially functional are overwhelmed with trauma cases, critically short of all supplies, and inundated by desperate people seeking safety.  A public health disaster is unfolding. Infectious diseases are spreading in overcrowded shelters as sewers spill over. Some 180 Palestinian women are giving birth daily amidst this chaos… “the health-care system in Gaza is collapsing”.

 

So, what can be done, beyond the Courts?

It’s hard not to feel sceptical about the potential of the Courts to change Israel’s behaviour. Israel’s responses since the 26 January 2024 Preliminary Measures were issued suggest that the ICJ has little to no deterrent effect. In fact, Israel not only failed to comply with these preliminary measures, it actually stepped up its military campaign. 5-year old Hind died a mere 3 days after the ICJ issued its judgement.

But international law has relevance beyond the courts. As legal mobilization researchers argue, international law can be seen as not only an imperial project, as Erakat eloquently explains, but also as a legitimate source of disruption, resistance and liberation.

For example, international law represents a legitimate basis for boycotting corporations that are complicit in atrocity crimes, such as Israeli Universities and McDonalds, just as was done during the South African anti-apartheid movement.

Another form of legal mobilization, as Dr. Claudia Saba has argued, is the delivery of humanitarian aid, as the “Free Gaza” movement have been doing, using small civilian boats to try and alleviate the desperate circumstances caused by Israel’s decades-long siege of Gaza.

Further forms of legal mobilization are protests and sit-ins, as the Public Interest Litigation Project has been preoccupied with, and what Doctors for Gaza in The Netherlandshave been engaged with since October 2024.

In other words, addressing violations of the right to health care through legal mobilization involves more than just “winning” in court. It takes on many different forms. These different forms of legal mobilization serves to galvanise social justice struggles.

What legal mobilization will not do is bring back the hundreds of health workers who have been killed in Gaza, let alone Hind Rajab or Refaat Alareer. However, it may serve to hold those responsible for killing them.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

Dr. Jeff Handmaker is Associate Professor of Legal Sociology, based at the International Institute of Social Studies in The Hague.

 

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When genocide is reduced to a war of emotions: Personal reflections on academic debates and the war in Palestine by Dina Zbeidy

Recently, universities and other institutions in the Netherlands have put a lot of focus on emotions of people in Europe when discussing the ongoing war on the Palestinians in Gaza. In this blog, Lecturer and Researcher Dina Zbeidy points out that while it is important to create space for emotions, this focus has the danger of shifting attention away from the actual atrocities happening on the ground, the topic these institutions should mainly talk about.

Photo by Mohammed Abubakr on Pexels

In a meeting about organizing events on the current war on Gaza, I noticed how I flinched and had an almost allergic reaction to the (over)use of the word ‘emotions.’ I have been reflecting on my reaction for the last few days to try and understand what exactly bothered me so much, as it was pointed out to me during that meeting that I myself have been very emotional these last three months.

And that is true. I have been an emotional wreck. How can you not be, when you wake up to the images of grey body parts sticking out of concrete rubble and go to bed with images of screaming burnt children and a more families wiped off the face of the earth.  I have felt it all: anger, sadness, frustration, powerlessness, exhaustion.

 

Reducing talking about war crimes to just emotive discussions

Recently, the Dutch minister of education sat with students and staff of academic institutions to discuss how best to organize and talk about what is happening. He urges academic institutions to keep the discussions open, as “you provide many students with an outlet to express their feelings and emotions”. He continues to say: “keep sharing knowledge, have discussions, and create understanding for each other’s perspective.”

From the first sentence, one can deduce that these events, whether panels, teach-ins, sit-ins or other activities, are mainly important as an outlet for emotions – more so than talking about facts on the ground and educating students in the Netherlands on grave ongoing violations of human rights and international law.

(Another thing one can deduce, that I will not address further here, is that talking about the war is framed as a ‘difference in perspective’).

During our meeting, we all agreed that there should be space for emotions. What I think is harmful, however, is reducing the war to a war of emotions (of some) rather than a war on Palestinians.

One example is the following argument that has been repeated in front of me several times these last months: we should refrain from using the term genocide because it might be hurtful to some people.

The assumption usually being that ‘some people’ refers to Israelis in the Netherlands or Dutch people of Jewish background or with family in Israel.

In other words: talking about an ongoing genocide can be hurtful to the feelings of others. That we should be very careful how we talk about the actual loss of life of children, families, parents, and grandparent, and refrain from naming it by what it is, as the feelings of others might be hurt.

My frustration came largely by realizing that civilians being killed in the thousands have to compete with other people’s emotions, and that in educational and academic institutions, these emotions seem to have the upper hand.

Nevertheless, more than 800 genocide scholars have already warned of the possibility of genocide, and the International Court of Justice will deliver its ruling tomorrow (26 January) on  whether in the legal sense, we can speak of genocide.

 

There is a big difference between creating space for expressing and letting out emotions, and reducing the talk about an unfolding genocide to emotions. 

One great place for me to let out and share my emotions have been protests and demonstrations. How powerful it is to know that what you feel is shared by thousands of others. The aim of such events is to show the public, including politicians, that we, in the thousands and globally in the millions, want this war, and the ongoing colonization and oppression, to stop.

When I participate at events, mainly organized by students and staff at academic institutions, I have found myself several times in tears, unable to finish a sentence because of these overwhelming emotions. And I decided early on during this war that I will not force myself to hide and suppress these emotions, not anymore. I loved that people told me that they understood my emotions, and that I should not apologize for having and showing them.

Nevertheless, the content of my talks and my contributions is not on what the war does to my emotions, or anybody else’s emotions for that matter. The topic at hand is not that of (our – we here, safe in Europe) emotions, but about Palestine and the genocide of a people.

I hope that academics, journalists, researchers, teachers, and students, remain vigilant to this distinction. Don’t let the talk about emotions distract us from what we, as part of society, can and should contribute to: facts, analysis, studies, and academic debates.  And yes, there should always be space for emotions – but they should never be (mis)used to oppose, or be silent on, genocide.


Photo Credit: Mohammed Abubakr: https://www.pexels.com/photo/people-with-palestinian-flags-protesting-on-the-street-19028556/


Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

 

Dr. Dina Zbeidy is a Dutch-Palestinian anthropologist. She is a social science lecturer and researcher at the Leiden University of Applied Sciences. Having conducted research on various topics including  Zionism, settler colonialism, displacement, human rights and development work, mainly in the Middle East, her current research focuses on human rights education in the Netherlands.

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In supporting Israel’s genocide, Germany has learnt nothing from history

It is becoming increasingly clear that as the German government targets migrants and cracks down on pro-Palestine protests, some lives are more valuable than others. In this blog, Josephine Valeske—a project officer with the Transnational Institute’s War and Pacification programme—calls on the German Government to rethink its stance in both domestic and foreign policy.

Image by Author

Earlier this month, amid the unfolding genocide in Gaza, German leaders convened in a Berlin synagogue to mark the 85th anniversary of the 1938 November pogrom that formed part of the genocide perpetrated by Germany against Jews in Europe.

But it seems they have failed to learn from their own history. In a memorial speech for the victims of that night and the Holocaust that followed, German Chancellor Olaf Scholz affirmed that “Germany’s place is on Israel’s side”.

Referring to pro-Palestine solidarity protests, he said: “Any form of antisemitism poisons our society, just like Islamist demonstrations and rallies,” before going on to threaten migrants with deportation if they exhibited antisemitic behaviour.

The German government habitually conflates Judaism with the Zionist project in Israel, and has adopted a working definition of antisemitism that includes hatred of or attacks against the state of Israel. Its crackdown on Palestinian solidarity – from protests to memorials to cultural events – and the dangerous curtailment of freedom of speech have been well documented.

But as Scholz’s speech revealed, this crackdown also has an Islamophobic, anti-migrant dimension, at a time when the Social Democrat-led government has adopted a hard stance on migration in a desperate attempt to recapture votes from the right.

On 25 October, following a surge in support for the far-right AfD party and a panicked debate about rising numbers of immigrants, the government agreed on a legislative proposal that would expand police powers to search, detain and deport people without papers.

Two weeks later, a summit between the federal and state governments ended with the announcement of further cuts to financial support for asylum seekers and the possible outsourcing of asylum procedures to third countries – a potentially illegal process similar to the UK’s infamous, and ultimately failed, Rwanda deal.

 

Rights restricted

But for many centre-to-right politicians, this does not go far enough. They frame Palestinian solidarity protests as antisemitic, and instrumentalise them to demand further restrictions of rights.

In a recent video, Vice Chancellor Robert Habeck from the Green Party called on Muslim associations to explicitly distance themselves from Hamas, and threatened deportations and revocation of residency permits for those who voice support for the group.

Meanwhile, Germany’s largest opposition party, the centre-right Christian Democratic Union (CDU), is proposing legislation that would increase the sentence for antisemitic crimes, and lead to the loss or denial of international protection for refugees if they commit such crimes, including possible deportation.

Similar moves already seem to be taking place in practice: Zaid Abdulnasser, coordinator of the Samidoun Palestinian Prisoner Solidarity Network, which was recently prohibited in Germany, reportedly received a deportation order because of his activism.

Under the CDU proposal, people applying for German citizenship would have to pledge their support for Israel’s right to exist and could be denied citizenship if they fail to do so, or if they are deemed to have an “antisemitic mindset”. Germans who hold dual citizenship and commit an antisemitic crime would stand to lose their German passport if convicted and sentenced to more than a year in prison.

Two weeks ago, explicitly citing pro-Palestine demonstrations, the CDU demanded the cancellation of a pending law that would make it possible for foreigners to fast-track their citizenship applications. In addition, former justice minister, Sabine Leutheusser-Schnarrenberger, of the Free Democratic Party has proposed to limit freedom of assembly to German citizens only.

While German politicians are outdoing each other in blaming antisemitism on immigrants, Muslims, Arabs or anyone who is not white, they conveniently ignore the fact that antisemitism among white, Christian and atheist Germans is actually a widespread problem. More than 80 percent of antisemitic crimes in 2022 were committed by people on the right-wing spectrum, continuing a trend from previous years.

When it became public in August that Hubert Aiwanger, the deputy governor of the state of Bavaria, had shared antisemitic propaganda in the 1980s, his party’s vote share increased in the following elections, and the government rewarded him with a fourth ministry.

 

Historical responsibility

If the German government is genuinely concerned about protecting Jews, it should address antisemitism coming from the majority white, right-wing population, instead of inciting hatred against minority groups. A similar message was recently conveyed by the Jewish Bund during an action called “You do not protect us” in front of parliament.

Right-wing violence has traditionally gone unchecked by authorities, whether it takes the form of antisemitism or other hate crimes.

The government failed to take any comparable action when it became known in 2011 that neo-Nazis had been on a seven-year murder spree while shielded by the intelligence service; when from 2014 onwards, tens of thousands of right-wingers started Monday marches against the “Islamisation of the West”; when a right-wing fanatic fatally shot nine people with migrant backgrounds in Hanau in 2020; or when a 2023 study showed that racism against Black people in Germany had risen by nearly 50 percent since 2016, among other examples. White, Christian and atheist Germans were never asked to distance themselves from any of these incidents.

Indeed, it is becoming increasingly clear in both internal and external policy discourses that for the German government, some lives are more valuable than others. The demonisation of (those perceived to be) Muslims or immigrants, and the crackdown on solidarity protests goes hand in hand with Germany’s political and financial support for Israel.

While many countries, including France, are calling on Israel to cease fire amid its relentless military assault, which has killed more than 11,000 Palestinians in Gaza, Scholz has reaffirmed his resistance to any such calls. Instead, his government has increased arms exports to Israel tenfold over 2022, with 85 percent of the permits granted after the Hamas attack and the ensuing military campaign.

Eighty-five years after the November pogrom, Germany should have learned that a genocide cannot be atoned for by enabling another genocide. Similarly, those who think that stoking Islamophobic and anti-migrant sentiments will fulfill Germany’s historical responsibility to fight antisemitism have learned nothing from history.

The German government must stop paying mere lip service to its commitment to human rights, and drastically change its stance in both domestic and foreign policy.


This article was originally published on Middle East Eye.


Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

Josephine Valeske is a project officer with The Transnational Institute’s War and Pacification programme.

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ALL Black Lives Matter in the Congo

On behalf of East Congo Tribune representing the Banyamulenge diaspora in the Netherlands

After decades of civil warfare, peace is the priority for the Democratic Republic of Congo. Yet the predicament of the Banyamulenge, a minority currently besieged and threatened by surrounding armed groups in South Kivu, illustrates that the poisonous legacies of colonial theories of ‘race’ are alive and well in people’s minds. This threatens prospects for peace in the DRC and the wider Great Lakes region. Belgium’s King Philippe recently issued a public apology for the cruelty of colonialism in the Congo, and following Black Lives Matter protests, a Parliamentary ‘Truth and Reconciliation’ commission has been set up in Belgium. Yet its findings will not come soon enough to help the Banyamulenge. Helen Hintjens and Delphin Ntanyoma call for urgent intervention to protect the civilian Banyamulenge who are facing genocide. They call for mental decolonisation from race theories to ensure that ALL Black Lives Matter in the Congo.

Displaced Banyamulenge in Congo
Photo 1: Internally Displaced Banyamulenge in Minembwe fearful for their future

Race Theories and the Colonial Present

Following Black Lives Matter protests in Belgium that toppled statues of King Leopold II, King Philippe expressed his ‘deepest regrets’ for ‘violence’ and ‘suffering’ imposed on Congolese people under Belgian colonial rule. Leopold’s cruel reign sacrificed an estimated 10 million Congolese lives in pursuit of profit. Since 1994, another 5 to 12 million Congolese died in wars to benefit mostly non-Congolese. Belgian colonial rule also left behind toxic ideas about race differences that now underpin violence against minorities like the Banyamulenge.

Their targeting as a minority living mainly in the eastern part of the DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo) has intensified as armed conflict in South Kivu has continued, leading to fears of a slow genocide as world’s focus is elsewhere. Due to their ‘Tutsi’ ancestry, Banyamulenge civilians are labeled ‘Hamitic’ invaders, oppressors, and even vermin. For decades they have been victims of pogroms and violence.

Map of attacks on Banyamulenge villages
Map of attacks on Banyamulenge villages and civilians.
Source: Delphin Ntanyoma (Eastern Congo Tribune) 8.9.2020.

This map shows a red circle, an area of less than 10 km2, where over 150,000 civilian Banyamulenge have fled seeking shelter after more than 3,500 square kilometres of land have been seized and 300 Banyamulenge villages burned and completely demolished (see Photo 2). They have no humanitarian assistance, apart from a few private fundraisers. The villages (marked X in green) have been attacked by Mai-Mai rebels and by FARDC (the national army) in early September 2020. For four successive days, 2-5 September, Gahwera and Kahwela villages were attacked. On 8 September, Runundu and Rutigita were attacked. In Kahwela, six were reported injured and two dead. Fighting is going on around southwest Minembwe town as we go to press. The A in purple indicates deployment of FARDC troops— 6,000 in total. Local information on 8 September indicates a row broke out among FARDC officers in Minembwe. Some were opposed to FARDC allying itself with Mai-Mai attacks on unarmed Banyamulenge civilians. Whereas in the past massacres took the form of pogroms, today the killings and military operations seem designed to wipe the Banyamulenge out completely. As Kivu Security Tracker (KST) has reported, as Mai-Mai ‘self-defence forces’ attack Banyamulenge villages, they force more and more civilians to flee for protection to a few tiny areas in Minembwe in South Kivu.

A demolished Bayamulenge home
Photo 2: A demolished Bayamulenge home; one of thousands since 2017

Mai-Mai rebels were joined in recent years by Rwandan-backed Burundian opposition rebel groups (Red Tabara, FOREBU and FNL) and civilian Banyamulenge stuck in Minembwe since March 2019 are now completely surrounded. There are an estimated 125,000 to 150,000 people in tiny ‘safe areas’. They are now starving. All humanitarian agencies have left Minembwe, even MSF, claiming it is unsafe to work there. With local roads almost impassable, almost everything has to be flown in. The Rector of the local Eben Ezer University, Lazare Sebitereko, suggest aid organizations are afraid to help Banyamulenge civilians despite their evident vulnerability because of the stigma against this group as ‘Hamitic’ or ‘Tutsi’ outsiders, among the majority communities in Eastern Congo, who define themselves as ‘Bantu’ or indigenous.

Banyamulenge exiles and leaders are calling for international action before it is too late. In April 2020, in an open letter to UN Secretary-General António Guterres, they called on the UN to “avert another genocide in the region, with the international community as bystanders”. Several petitions are circulating. Yet as in Rwanda in 1994, no-one wants to use the ‘g’-word. Everyone wants to avoid the obligation to protect. However, the international community has been warned – indeed warned repeatedly – of the possibility of  genocide. Pre-conditions for genocide are now in place, including discrimination, dehumanization, polarization, persecution and denial.

Editor of the Eastern Congo Tribune, Rukumbuzi Delphin Ntanyoma explains: “As a Munyamulenge from South Kivu, completing my Doctorate in Development Economics at the Erasmus University’s International Institute of Social Studies in the Netherlands, I am tracking the misfortunes of my community in Minembwe every day.” As a blog, the Eastern Congo Tribune has been an especially important source of information during the COVID-19 lockdown, when journalists and researchers could not enter DRC for months. The blog makes for grim reading, detailing armed violence against Banyamulenge civilians who have been horribly attacked, raped and killed, simply trying to find food. When the Banyamulenge’s precious cattle were looted, the proceeds were used to buy more weapons. MONUSCO is nearby, and there are an estimated 6,000 FARDC troops, and they are not protecting the Banyamulenge; on the contrary.

According to Ngugi wa Thiong’o, mutual understanding and peace require the “broken roots of African civilization” to be mended. As an example, the predicament of the Banyamulenge in South Kivu illustrates that colonial theories of ‘Hamites’ and ‘Bantu’ races continue to sow hatred and persecution today. The hope is still that in the longer run racism and violence against all Congolese people, including minorities like the Banyamulenge, can be ended by seeking out the truth behind Belgian colonial history.

However, the threat in Minembwe to civilians cannot wait for that process. The need for protection and humanitarian relief needs to be addressed right away. Otherwise this minority community will become another page in the history book of genocide in the Great Lakes region of the African continent in the former Belgian colonies. Time is running out to heal the wounds of colonial divide-and-rule theories of race, and to finally ensure that all Black Lives Matter in the Congo.

This article draws on two publications by Rukumbuzi Delphin Ntanyoma, one a Genocide Warning published on the Genocide Watch website (2020), and a related Working Paper, published by ISS (2019).

About the authors:

Helen HintjensHelen Hintjens is Assistant Professor in Development and Social Justice at the ISS, working in the field of migration.

Delphin NtanyomaDelphin Ntanyoma is a PhD candidate at the ISS. His research falls within Conflict Economics and is part of the Economics of Development & Emerging Markets (EDEM) Program. With a background of Economics and Masters’ of Art in Economics of Development from ISS, the researcher runs an online blog that shares personal views on socio-economic and political landscape of the Democratic Republic of Congo but also that of the African Great Lakes Region. The Eastern Congo Tribune Blog can be found on the following link: www.easterncongotribune.com.

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From outright denial to blame-shifting: three guises of genocide denial in Rwanda

Genocide denial is an obstacle to meaningful reconciliation and healing in Rwanda, a country struggling to recover from the deep scars left by the 1994 genocide. In this article, Helen Hintjens and Jos van Oijen show that genocide denial has evolved over time, shifting from outright denial to relativizing the genocide by referring to other forms of violence, or recasting it in a way that shifts the blame to the victims and perpetrators while keeping bystanders such as international organizations out of the spotlight.

According to Human Rights Watch, in 100 days from April to July 1994, some 500,000 to one million Tutsis and moderate Hutus were murdered in Rwanda on the orders of the state. The ‘dark side of democracy’ involved mass citizen participation (forced as well as voluntary) in killings and the failure of weak UN forces and unwilling Western governments to protect the victims.

Genocide Watch recognizes denial as one of ten stages of genocide, and recent literature is emerging on this topic in Rwanda. Genocide denial is an obstacle to meaningful reconciliation and healing in this country. Even 25 years after the genocide, leading suspects are still being found and tried; only some will fully admit to what happened in Rwanda in 1994. At least three different types of genocide denial—there are probably more—are evident, starting shortly after the genocide and continuing to present. Moreover, organized denial started before 1994 to cover up genocide preparation.

It is important to recognize genocide denial in all its forms in order to prevent future justification of state violence targeted against minorities. The three forms of collective genocide denial, literal (1994-1998), interpretative (1998-2003), and implicatory (2003-present), do overlap, but one form is more pronounced in each period. These are discussed below

Literal denial (1994-1998)

Literal denial claims no genocide took place. It involves systematically negating the facts of genocide and keeping silent about genocidal plans and killings. Within and outside Rwanda, literal denial was widespread among leaders and followers of the Hutu Power. Governments represented in the UN Security Council who had a responsibility to act avoided using the word genocide, and this literal denial was because they did not wish to get involved. Even before genocide ended, literal genocide denial started in Europe, spread by groups with close ties to genocidaires before 1994. This included the French government and the White Fathers, Catholic missionaries from Belgium.

After the genocide, literal genocide denial became a defence strategy of genocide suspects at the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR). Attorneys such as Christopher Black and Peter Erlinder believed the denial narratives of their clients and became activists on their behalf, claiming convicted perpetrators were actually political prisoners—victims of an international conspiracy led by the US and the UK.

Several scholars and journalists with little prior knowledge of Rwanda or the genocide were influenced by these lawyers. A good example is the case of Edward S. Herman and David Peterson who published several books and articles claiming the accepted history of the genocide was based on a ‘complex of interwoven lies’. They downplayed the organizing capacities of the Rwandan state, denying that the Hutu Power regime was even ‘capable’ of planning and managing genocide.

Interpretative denial (1998-2003)

Once a firm historical record of the facts had been established, around the late 1990s, literal denial became more difficult to sustain. Testimonies from survivors and studies by Human Rights Watch and other NGOs made literal denial almost impossible. As a result, interpretative denial became more pronounced. This involved distracting attention from genocide by highlighting other crimes committed around the same time or afterwards that were not classified as genocide, in order to relativize genocide.

Interpretative denial means that the ‘drama’ of violence is acknowledged, but is recast as something other than genocide. Facts are twisted to deny that the killings constituted genocide. Interpretative denial started when the international media swallowed tales of seemingly two-sided ‘tribal violence’ in Rwanda. The killings were justified as self-defence, part of civil war or ethnic self-determination of the ‘majority’ population. In this way, genocide becomes no more than ‘blood-letting’ or massacre.

A popular form of interpretative denial implies that the Tutsi minority more or less committed suicide. They first waged war against the Hutu majority, and then were wiped out in retaliation. It is claimed Hutu soldiers and civil defence militia had no choice but to defend themselves against an invading Tutsi rebel army. In this way, a deliberate campaign of extermination of up to a million unarmed civilians was rationalized by portraying victims as casualties of civil war—a war supposedly caused by victims themselves.

By portraying selective slaughter as self-defence, or part of civil war and ethnic self-determination by the ‘majority’ population, interpretative denial conveniently reworks the facts of genocide as something else. Narratives of interpretative denial suggest someone else was responsible for the killings, not Hutu Power organizers, not the Rwandan state. Victims are blamed, which may seem absurd. However, for perpetrators and their allies, this reinterpretation of genocide allows them to maintain a positive self-image.  One form of collective genocide denial, the ‘double genocide thesis’, bridges interpretative and implicatory genocide denial.

Implicatory denial (pre-1994, post -003)

Implicatory genocide denial acknowledges that genocide took place, but involves explicit counter-accusations to blame the ‘other side’. In Rwanda, implicatory denial involved conspiracy theories that preceded the genocide and were later revived and expanded upon. In the early 1990s, Hutu Power media claimed the Tutsi intended to wipe out the Hutu majority. This fear-mongering was intended to justify the creation of so-called self-defence militias, really death squads, like the notorious interahamwe, who in 1994 were deployed to kill Tutsis in their homes, at roadblocks, even in schools, hospitals, and places of worship.

The ‘double genocide’ thesis suggests the Hutu were themselves victims of genocide, perpetrated by the Tutsi dominated RPF. After the genocide against the Tutsi, this theory was used to suggest moral equivalence. It was claimed all sides were equally guilty of heinous war crimes. More recently, this narrative has evolved further to claim the RPF – not the Hutu Power elite – somehow masterminded the genocide against the Tutsi. According to journalist Judi Rever, the genocide against Tutsi was secretly planned, ignited, and fuelled by the RPF. It is claimed this was planned to generate international support and sympathy for the RPF seizure of state power in Rwanda. At the same time the RPF is accused of planning a genocide of Hutus, and slaughtering and demonizing the Hutu majority.

Implicatory denial is a bit like fake news, suggesting, ‘things are not what they seem’. Evidence is taken out of context or made up to ‘reveal’ a secret conspiracy. Literal genocide denial is relatively easy to challenge. Interpretative and implicatory genocide denial are more difficult, since they are not about denying facts, but about reinterpreting what lies ‘behind’ facts; what they mean. This suggests there are hidden truths behind the facts, often as with fake news, on the basis of hearsay and unsubstantiated evidence. More than 25 years after the Rwandan genocide, organized denial persists.

An obstacle to peace and mutual understanding

So, can laws and prosecutions prevent organized, collective genocide denial in Rwanda and elsewhere? Some think they can. Yet the problem is that genuine criticism of the present Rwandan government can sometimes be prosecuted as genocide denial. Unrecognized RPF crimes have meant that few soldiers have come to trial for killing Hutu during the civil war and in the years thereafter, in neighbouring Congo (DRC). This background helps politicize debates around genocide denial. Yet consistent and sincere efforts to combat genocide denial need to continue, and should not be misinterpreted as unconditional support for the current government.

This blog article was first published here and is based on the article ‘Elementary Forms of Collective Denial: The 1994 Rwanda Genocide’.

About the authors:

Helen HintjensHelen Hintjens is Assistant Professor in Development and Social Justice at the ISS, working in the field of migration.

Jos van Oijen is an independent researcher from the Netherlands who publishes on genocide-related issues in various online and print media.

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Holding Myanmar accountable for acts of genocide is just the start of a long process of justice for the Rohingya by Lize Swartz

Public hearings are currently underway at the International Court of Justice in The Hague, where Myanmar stands accused of committing genocide against the Rohingya minority after violent crackdowns since 2012 left thousands dead and forced more than one million Rohingya to flee the country. This follows shortly after the Minister of Justice of The Gambia at the International Conclave on Justice and Accountability for Rohingya held at the ISS in October declared that what has transpired in Myanmar over the past years must be named genocide and that The Gambia would lead efforts to hold the Myanmar state accountable through international legal mechanisms. However, this is just the first of several steps to ensure justice for the Rohingya—the human side of what has become a ‘refugee crisis’ needs to be acknowledged, writes Lize Swartz.


The desire to hold perpetrators accountable for crimes committed against the Rohingya[1], to improve the living conditions and well-being of Rohingya refugees[2], and to ensure their eventual safe return to Myanmar was unanimously expressed at the recent International Conclave on Justice and Accountability for Rohingya. At the conclave, a number of high-level dignitaries and specialists working on justice for the Rohingya at both the international and local level came together at the ISS in October this year to discuss key short-, medium- and long-term objectives in ensuring the eventual safe return of the Rohingya to Myanmar and ways in which to reach them.

His Excellency Abubacarr Marie Tambedou, Minister of Justice of The Gambia, at the conclave declared to a sizeable audience that The Gambia would lead the process of holding the Myanmar state accountable—a declaration that was enthusiastically welcomed by attendees as an important first step in ensuring justice for the Rohingya. The Gambia accordingly instituted proceedings [3] against Myanmar at the International Court of Justice, the principal judiciary organ of the United Nations, in November this year. Laetitia van den Assum, an independent diplomatic expert who was previously part of the Advisory Commission on Rakhine State and who also attended the conclave[4], told a Dutch news website that The Gambia had launched the application because the UN Security Council due to resistance from Russia and China had not undertaken any action in this regard over the past few years.

While the declaration of genocide and the filing of the recent application are steps in the right direction, the complexity of processes of ensuring justice and accountability have not been sufficiently recognized at the conclave, where discussions focused on holding perpetrators accountable and returning Rohingya refugees to Myanmar under safe conditions. Bangladesh, who has assumed a leadership role in housing Rohingya refugees, was praised at the conclave for its hospitality, while representatives of Bangladesh highlighted the difficulties of housing almost a million refugees.

The discussions made me wonder whether the humanity of the Rohingya is sufficiently recognized by those working on ensuring justice for them. In particular, the Rohingya genocide has become a ‘refugee crisis’, gaining increasing attention due to the sheer numbers of refugees residing in host countries. This is transpiring while the Rohingya in fact have been victims of policies of exclusion and direct violence within Myanmar for over forty years. It seems that it is only now that the issue is receiving attention—but perhaps for the wrong reasons.

At the conclave, it became clear that the Rohingya were seen as temporary residents hosted by benevolent neighbouring countries. However, it became evident during the conclave that repatriation is not straightforward, as changes in national policies, laws and leadership in Myanmar are crucial for the creation of conditions of safety and security as a sustainable solution to the long-term crisis. Conference attendees agreed that without such conditions, the cycle of violence and exclusion is likely to repeat itself as it has done before.

While the proceedings against Myanmar at the ICJ are a first step, host countries and the international community all have to come to terms with the fact that the process of ensuring justice could span several decades and that ongoing collaborative effort is required for the entire duration of the process. It is important to recognize the human side of the ‘refugee crisis’ and to ensure that besides holding perpetrators accountable through formal international legal mechanisms, the well-being of the Rohingya should be prioritized now—whether they are temporary or permanent residents of host countries. The following things should be kept in mind:

Bangladesh and other host countries are now the Rohingya’s home, and they may remain so for many years to come.

When humans settle somewhere, they grow new roots that anchor them to a place. The international community may not want to recognize that the Rohingya has already grown roots in host countries and that they will continue to do so until their return to Myanmar, if they choose to return. It is crucial for host countries to accept that the Rohingya might not be going anywhere anytime soon and that their integration into host communities is crucial, whether temporarily or permanently. Host countries have already been generous in providing resources and a safe space for the Rohingya, but they now needs to direct their gaze towards the social dimensions of well-being among the Rohingya, including the creation of a sense of belonging and the creation of education and employment opportunities by doing the opposite that the Myanmar state has done—by acknowledging the Rohingya minority as part of their society and accepting them despite their origin or citizenship status. At the conclave it became clear that the lack of access to education was one of the most pressing problems facing the Rohingya.

The Rohingya should acquire an understanding of the process of change, not only in repatriation, but also in holding the perpetrators responsible.

Importantly, the Rohingya also need to understand that their return to Myanmar, even though desired by some of them, may not take place in the coming year or years, which will help them make long-term decisions about where they could settle. CSOs and local grassroots actors working with Rohingya on the ground can play a crucial role in helping the Rohingya understand why the cogs are turning slowly and why their return to Myanmar is being delayed. In addition, information on the proceedings and outcome of pending ICJ or ICC cases will play an important role in the Rohingya’s gauging of the level of safety and security of Myanmar and, therefore, in their willingness to return to Myanmar when it is possible.

The process of justice and accountability does not end when the Rohingya return to Myanmar – it only begins then.

The long-term objective of helping the Rohingya deal with trauma should be highlighted; this shows dedication to the cause of the Rohingya and not just to addressing the immediate refugee crisis. A Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which was discussed at the conclave, is effective not only in gathering evidence of crimes against humanity, but also in helping victims of crimes against humanity deal with trauma. The wounds that have been created over the last forty years will not heal instantly, but they can heal more effectively with the creation and efficient functioning of such mechanisms and institutions that facilitate dialogue and interaction among all ethnic groups in Myanmar.


[1] Following violent crackdowns on the Rohingya starting in 2012, more than one million Rohingya have fled Myanmar, many to neighbouring country Bangladesh.

[2] At present, Cox’s Bazar near the Bangladesh-Myanmar border houses more than 700,000 Rohingya refugees in what has become a massive slum.

[3] According to ICJ Press Release No. 2019/47, available at https://www.icj-cij.org/en/case/178, The Gambia alleged “violations of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (the ‘Genocide Convention’) through ‘acts adopted, taken and condoned by the Government of Myanmar against members of the Rohingya group’ ”.


Image Credit: Zlatica Hoke on Wikimedia


16177487_1348685531818526_4418355730312549822_oAbout the author:

Lize Swartz is a PhD researcher at the ISS working on the intersection of sustainability and climate crises and the influence of power on understandings of and responses to such crises. She was a conference reporter at the International Conclave on Justice and Accountability for Rohingya.