Shake Hands With the Devil: The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda

by Roméo Dallaire

  At that moment, Phil Lancaster stuck his head into the office to inform me that we had an unannounced visitor. I was in no mood. Before Phil could say anything more, Bernard Kouchner—a former French minister of health, a founder of Médecins Sans Frontières and now the president of a humanitarian action group based in Paris—came through the door. I asked him to return to the hallway before he could even introduce himself. After Henry and Yaache left my office, Phil came back in with one of Kouchner’s handlers, who in very rapid French explained to me who the man was and why he was here. I said I would be happy to receive him now.

  Though he had blown his top while waiting out in the hall, he came in now with a smile and a most courteous manner and immediately cut off my excuses so that he could apologize himself for barging in and expecting preferential treatment. We got along famously after that. He was here on his own initiative, he said, to get a better feel for the situation and to provide whatever help he could over the next few days. I called Henry back in and we spent the next couple of hours together, mapping out his schedule. I asked him to meet with the RGF leaders and also with the interim government and beat them down as regards to the killings, the insecurity for humanitarian aid, and the forced movement of nearly two million civilians. I told him I suspected that the RGF and the interim government had taken a hard look at the situation and realized that they should conduct a strategic withdrawal into the Kivu area of Zaire and be ready to fight another day. I needed them to stop scaring the populace by portraying the RPF as devilish child-eaters. He told me he had already met with the RPF as he had come into the country through its lines a day or so ago. He had not succeeded in making their position more flexible.

  I asked him what he wanted from this trip. The answer was straightforward: he wanted to save a bunch of orphans in Interahamwe-held territory. He wanted to fly them out of the war and then bring them back when things were calm. He said the French public was in a state of shock and horror over the genocide in Rwanda and was demanding action.

  I told him that I was totally against the export of Rwandan children, orphaned or not. They were not a means for some French people to feel a little less guilty about the genocide. He asked me to give the matter some more thought and said that while I did, he would take on the extremists and visit a few of the orphanages. He travelled with a coterie of journalists to help him make his point.

  The following day I sent Tiko with Kouchner to go and meet the interim government in Gitarama. Tiko did not speak French, but he was fearless and I believed that their travels would go well. Kouchner would then come back and join me in a meeting with the military heads. As I was preparing for the meeting with Bagosora and the two chiefs of staff at the Diplomates, I got a call from UNOMUR telling me that the Dutch minister for development had entered the RPF zone through the Katuna border post and had gone to Mulindi to discuss humanitarian activities. What was this about? I asked that he come to Kigali for a meeting.

  At the Diplomates, we rode the usual merry-go-round of issues. But at the end, Bizimungu said he wanted to start the transfers again the next day and Bagosora claimed he had made arrangements with the Interahamwe, which was ready to help. When Kouchner arrived at the hotel, we all sat down together. Kouchner pulled no punches. Though he was in Rwanda on his own hook, he told them that France and the world were beside themselves with disgust at what was happening here. The killing had to stop. The UN was about to approve a new mandate for UNAMIR and was clearly going to identify the catastrophe as genocide, not as an ethnic war. Kouchner would report on this trip directly to the secretary-general himself, who had personally facilitated his visit. (That explained why neither I nor the DPKO had known he was coming.) Bagosora and Bizimungu made the usual protestations, and only Ndindiliyimana finally said that they needed to stop the killing but that a ceasefire was an essential first step.

  Kouchner interrupted. Do not wait for the ceasefire, he said. Show good will and change the psychology of the situation. As an example, let him pull out orphans from the militia-controlled areas and take them to safety in France. I admired his chutzpah. I volunteered that UNAMIR could help but I needed firm guarantees of security. If such an attempt failed, it would be a disaster for the children.

  The meeting ended with Bagosora and the chiefs committing to help evacuate orphans, Kouchner at the front of such a procession with lots of media. I hated Kouchner’s argument that this action would be a public relations coup for the interim government. I already didn’t like the idea of exporting Rwandan children, but to do it to give the extremists a better image made me ill. However, if such an exercise inspired the RGF and the interim government to sign the ceasefire, including the neutrality of the airport, I was willing to co-operate. Kouchner was a very experienced internationalist and had seen many other such situations. This manoeuvre to assist the RGF and the government had not been in the cards he’d displayed when I’d met with him the day before. I made a mental note to keep a careful watch on Kouchner’s motives and actions.

  Since I had some time before my next meeting at the hotel with the Interahamwe leaders, I decided to deal with a problem at the Red Cross hospital. Militiamen were barring the entrance to those seeking help. I arrived at the gate at a fair speed, the powerful diesel motor of my SUV grinding loudly as I made my way up the hill. My escort was very close behind, and by the time I leapt out of my vehicle, three of them had come running to my side. Two more aimed the barrels of the machine guns on their Toyota pickup trucks right at the militiamen, who observed my guys very closely while trying to feign cockiness. I marched up to the one who looked like the leader and threatened him with grave consequences if they continued to obstruct the entrance or tried to get inside. Though my Ghanaian escort did not understand a word of French, they relished the moment and moved to separate the thugs from the onlooking crowd. A near-instantaneous change of atmosphere came over the scene. Respectfully, the Interahamwe said they would not take any action here and, in fact, would leave the area. After a few words with the Red Cross people at the gate, I headed back to the Diplomates.

  This time as I was removing my pistol, which was the etiquette for such meetings, I hesitated, certainly long enough to be noticed, then let my gun drop on the sofa. I don’t know what the three Interahamwe leaders made of the gesture, but I was fighting a terrible compulsion to shoot them on the spot. This was no fleeting urge. I had to consciously take my weapon off and put it away from myself. Why not shoot them? Wouldn’t such an act be justified? They spoke their words of welcome, and I let the chance go. I still debate the choices of that moment in my head.

  The three riders of the apocalypse were all smiling at me, apparently proud of the fact that I had come to see them again. Kajuga, Mamiragaba and Nkezabera were confident and neatly dressed—no blood spatters this time—and very attentive to every nuance of my opening comments. Kajuga read my eyes more than he listened, I believed, trying to discern any sign of weakness or doubt. I said that I wanted to operate with all forces in Rwanda, including them. I told them that UNAMIR 2 would be a humanitarian-focused mission, not an intervention force. Kajuga assured me again of the movement’s cooperation. The Interahamwe pledged to work diligently for the halt of the massacres and the return to peace. I told them the transfer exercises were going to start over the next days, and the world would be watching. We parted as politely as we could.

  In the next couple of days, I learned that Yaache and his team had stopped the Kouchner orphan rescue because the Interahamwe had continued to raise problems, arguing that UNAMIR was simply helping the RPF to empty the RGF zone of Tutsis preparatory to an attack. The militia told Yaache that it wanted me to be present at the loading site. Then Bagosora asked Yaache to come and explain why he had cancelled the transfer when it was so important for his government’s image. When Yaache told him of the militia’s intransigence, Bagosora apologized for the problems the Interahamwe had raised and said he had not been aware of them before. He assured Yaache that the gove
rnment was committed to the orphan transfers and asked if the problems could be resolved within twenty-four hours, obviously before Kouchner left town with all his journalists. Yaache said he would have to have another meeting with these seemingly fickle militia leaders. I agreed with Yaache that we had to go slowly. Yaache said Bagosora seemed desperate for the transfer to take place right away. By losing the chance to use Kouchner to show that the extremists were really trying to sort things out, he would lose a major opportunity in the eyes of the French authorities and population, and in front of the world.

  I was running on adrenalin that evening and decided to take another look at the concept of operations for UNAMIR 2. With the diligence for which I was always grateful, the staff stayed with me in the operations room to help me put a further response and assessment together. The interim government, the RGF, the Gendarmerie, even the Interahamwe, were suddenly co-operative and speaking with one voice, under the apparent leadership of Bagosora: it had to mean that something or somebody had changed the extremists’ strategy. Had they realized that the RPF was not going to settle for half of the country and then decided to show a supportive attitude to the UN and the international community while bargaining for time? Did Kouchner’s sudden appearance have some effect? He was close to the government in France, and perhaps France had some plan in motion that I didn’t know about.

  I needed to rethink the deployment of UNAMIR 2, as every passing day brought more chaos and change. I had to come up with alternate deployment sites that would concentrate the new forces more quickly if I was still going to have a chance to influence the situation. I made another plea for a sixth battalion and for my UN bosses to consider peripheral airfields and new secure operations and logistics centres. Finally I called it a day. I remember someone brought out a case of beer and we all had a cold one. Where did the beer come from? It was not the horrible Rwandan Primus. The Ghanaians must have brought it; they loved their beer and once in a while arranged for an emergency supply to come in on the Hercules.

  I went to bed and prayed for a better day.

  On May 17, Henry chaired the first ceasefire Standing Operating Procedures meeting at the Hôtel des Diplomates. The RGF officers were led by the operations head, a known hard-liner. The RPF did not attend, claiming it had not had enough time to review the proposed procedures. As far as headway went, Henry concluded that the next meetings had better take place inside Force HQ—relatively neutral ground. Kouchner left that morning, still confident of having made a difference in Rwanda but furious that the orphan evacuation had failed. I had appreciated his efforts and his courage in attempting to come to our aid.

  Later that day, I received an important code cable from Annan himself. It included a copy of the Security Council resolution that would govern our future, complete with the last-minute changes imposed by the United States. Annan’s covering letter described its heavy-handedness. The morning of the final debate, the Americans had visited the DPKO seeking clarifications “on the nature and concept of operations of the expanded UNAMIR, its deployment schedule, the availability of troops and the consent of the parties.1 Based on this discussion, the U.S. wished to suggest the attached changes.” Maurice lost his temper and vehemently accused the United States of unconscionable stalling. Nonetheless the Americans had forced through some changes, as Annan’s cable laid out: “Please note that paragraph 7 of the resolution implies that, while preparations for the second phase of the expanded operation will proceed, its implementation will not take place until the Security Council has had the opportunity to review the situation and take the further decisions that may be required, on the basis of the report to be submitted by the Secretary-General. This provision leaves open the possibility of a revision of the concept of operations on which, as you know, the U.S. continues to have doubts.”

  The resolution called for the redeployment of nearly two hundred UNMOs from Nairobi and the buildup of the Ghanaian battalion to full strength and mechanized capability. This meant training those troops on APCs before we could finally commit them to operations. That would take longer than seven days. As for the phase-two battalions, I would not see them until after the assessment of phase one was studied by the Security Council. If the Western nations continued to refuse to commit mechanized and well-equipped troops for phase two right from the start, then the process of deployment of troops and armoured vehicles, including the marrying-up of both these components for training, then I would not see them in two months or more at best. With that timetable, phase three wouldn’t be deployed for three to four months. In that case, the need for any new troops at all would be enormously diminished, as the RPF would have probably won the war and overrun the country.

  I went for a walk around the compound that night and wondered what I would do with this lame mandate. I would not get my troops. Should I even attempt to carry on? I listed in my head all that we were up against as I paced. The RGF and the interim government were speaking from both sides of their mouths and showed no real desire for either the ceasefire or the cessation of the massacres. The RPF was opting to go it alone, and wanted to limit UNAMIR to the status of a token observer. The Security Council, under the overbearing weight of the United States, had once again sold us out. The French seemed to be on the sidelines, ready for their cue.

  I decided to wait for the morning before making up my mind. I didn’t want to give up, but how could I justify staying?

  * * *

  1. Some U.S. politicians wholeheartedly supported UNAMIR 2. On May 5, senators Paul Simon and Jim Jeffords contacted me in Kigali and got first-hand the information they needed to draft a letter to the White House seeking a change in policy from the administration in regards to Rwanda and UNAMIR. In the months to come these gentlemen became my greatest allies in the U.S. government until finally the administration was so embarrassed by the media and by the senators’ lobbying that it finally mounted a humanitarian mission. That mission did save the lives of millions—including most of the perpetrators of the genocide—but it did not assist the victims nor did it arrive in time to prevent or stop the genocide. I owe a great debt of gratitude to Simon and Jeffords for at least trying to get Rwanda on the radar screen of the White House.

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  ACCOUNTANTS OF THE SLAUGHTER

  ON MAY 17 the Security Council approved a watered-down version of my plan as Resolution 918, which officially created UNAMIR 2. While the resolution approved the concept of operations, the force structure and the phased thirty-one-day deployment, it was vague on the genocide and the role the force should play in stopping it. Colin Keating later publicly admitted, “The United States has gutted this resolution.” Even so, I was prepared to accept vagueness as permission to execute my plan so long as I was given the required troops—the resolution authorized an immediate change in UNAMIR’s mandate and the rapid deployment of 5,500 men. After nearly a decade of reliving every detail of those days, I am still certain that I could have stopped the madness had I been given the means.

  But as the days went by and no troops arrived, it was clear that the Security Council had once again passed a resolution that did not truly represent the intentions of its member states. In this case, while most nations seemed to agree that something had to be done, every nation seemed to have a reason why some other nation should do it. So there we sat, waiting for a promise to be kept, reduced to the role of accountants keeping track of how many were being killed.

  Madeleine Albright, the U.S. permanent representative to the UN, and Sir David Hannay, her British counterpart, had for some time resisted the use of the term “genocide” in UN debates, but now that their objections had been swamped in a deluge of factual reports out of Rwanda, the United States fell back on the argument that African security problems should be solved by African troops. A number of African states were willing to contribute: Ghana, Ethiopia, Malawi, Senegal, Zimbabwe, Tunisia, Nigeria, Zambia, Congo, Mali and others. But none of them had the logistical capacity to deploy and sustain the
ir forces without help. The burden of sending troops eventually fell to Ghana, Ethiopia, Zambia, India, Canada and Nigeria. With the exception of the Canadians and, to a lesser extent, the Indians, these forces were logistically too weak to deploy themselves without First World assistance. None of the nations that eventually stepped forward had the capacity for the massive reinforcement that might have bought the UN credibility in the eyes of the belligerents.

  The United States and the United Kingdom committed other acts of sabotage on deployment to Rwanda. For instance, I had long been arguing with New York that RTLM had to be shut down, as it was a direct instrument in promoting genocide. The UN did not have the means to stop the broadcasts, either through jamming, a direct air strike on the transmitter, or covert operations, but it made a formal request of the United States, which had the means to try all three. The issue was studied by the Pentagon, which in due course recommended against conducting the operation because of the cost—$8,500 an hour for a jamming aircraft over the country—and the legal dilemma. Bandwidth within a nation is owned by the nation, and jamming a national radio station would violate international convention on national sovereignty. The Pentagon judged that the lives of the estimated 8,000–10,000 Rwandans being killed each day in the genocide were not worth the cost of the fuel or the violation of Rwandan airwaves. The death toll, which was estimated at 200,000 by the end of April, reached 500,000 by the end of May and 800,000 by the last day of June.