Between 7 April and early July 1994 somewhere between 500,000 and a million people were killed in Rwanda, not—as many announced at the time—as the bloody climax of a ‘chaotic tribal war’ between Tutsi and Hutu, but as a deliberate and systematic slaughter of the former by the latter. Later, the ‘international community’ acknowledged that a genocide had indeed occurred, and proferred its ignorance of events as an excuse for its inactivity. However, as Linda Melvern’s devastating account of the Rwandan genocide shows, the nature of the killings was plain to see: ‘There were no sealed trains or secluded camps in Rwanda. The genocide was broadcast on the radio.’ Moreover, and most tellingly, ‘conclusive proof that a genocide was taking place was provided to the Security Council in May and June, while it was happening.’ Over the last seven years Melvern has pieced together a wide range of sources: the reports of Belgian and French parliamentary enquiries, a leaked account of secret UN Security Council meetings, interviews with key political actors as well as documents held in Kigali. Her book is a masterly synthesis of this evidence.

What emerges from it is a chilling revelation of the political realities behind the ‘human rights’ rhetoric of the Western powers of the past decade. Long before 7 April—as early as 1992 in the case of Belgium—these were regimes that had been told of a coherent plan for the elimination not only of Tutsi but also of moderate Hutu opposed to Juvénal Habyarimana’s rule. The origins of this plan are to be found not so much in deep-seated ‘ethnic’ hatreds as in the manipulation of social tensions by fanatical chauvinists bent on retaining power at any cost. It was this regime that poured loans and grants provided by the World Bank and the IMF into the purchase of weapons and the training and organization of the Interahamwe militia, fuelling the killing machine instead of development projects. Thus ‘the international community, which passed laws fifty years ago with the specific mandate of ensuring that genocide was never again perpetrated, not only failed to prevent it happening in Rwanda but, by pumping in funds intended to help the Rwandan economy, actually helped to create the conditions that made it possible.’

Europeans first became involved in Rwanda in 1894, with the arrival of a German count at the court of King Rwabugiri. He found that Rwandan society was divided into three groups: the Tutsi, who were by and large cattle-herders and formed the upper strata of society (and provided the country’s rulers); the Hutu, mostly peasant farmers and by far the biggest group; and the Twa, hunter–gatherer pygmies who formed less than one per cent of the population. Tutsi and Hutu shared a common language, common religion and diet, but were—somewhat like the castes of India—divided by an intricate and draconian feudal order, which gave the Tutsi aristocracy seigneurial powers over Hutu cultivators reduced to virtual serfdom. German conquest did not alter this structure, and when Rwanda was transferred to Belgium by the victorious Entente in 1918, the new rulers reinforced it with a system of official ethnic classification, reliance on extant Tutsi hierarchies, and sweeping use of forced Hutu labour. Association of traditional oppressors with a foreign colonial power intensified the natural resentments of the Hutu underclass against their Tutsi superiors.

With the coming of modern politics in the late fifties, these tensions exploded. In November 1959 Hutu violence against Tutsi erupted, and Rwanda was placed under martial law. Reversing their historic policy, the Belgians now keeled over to favour the Hutu—encouraged by the local Catholic Church, whose priests were active in fostering Hutu aspirations. Around 150,000 Tutsi fled to neighbouring countries, and the elections held in 1960 resulted in a large Hutu majority government, which declared independence in 1962. In November 1963 a group of Tutsi monarchists invaded from Burundi, and the new president Grégoire Kayibanda reacted by ordering the execution of opposition leaders and then, with government radio warning that the ‘Tutsi were coming back to enslave the Hutu’, killings of Tutsi began. Melvern gives a clear-headed account of Rwanda’s history, on the understanding that, as her chapter title indicates, ‘The Past is Prologue’, and indeed, the killings of 1963 can be seen as a smaller-scale rehearsal of those of 1994. The key difference was that in 1963, Western public opinion was alarmed—comparisons to the Holocaust were made by, among others, Bertrand Russell.

Kayibanda ruled until 1973, in a one-party state with clerical blessing—Rwanda becoming a favourite African state of European Christian Democracy. Parmehutu, Kayibanda’s party, enjoyed the support of the Hutu majority, invigilating the Tutsi by the use of identity cards and quota systems. In southern Rwanda there had been a good deal of intermarriage between the groups, but Kayibanda’s brand of Hutu nationalism—valuing ‘purity’ above all else—was a product of the north of the country, which had not been part of the traditional Tutsi kingdom; it was conquered by the Germans only in 1912 and had a tradition of resistance to Tutsi dominance. The general who overthrew Kayibanda, Juvénal Habyarimana, was also from the north—as was the power clique that came to surround Habyarimana, the akazu, centred on his wife Agathe and her relatives.

After 1963, many Tutsi and Hutu opposed to Kayibanda and Habyarimana lived in exile in Uganda, Burundi, Tanzania and Zaire. The Ugandan exiles, persecuted by Milton Obote, sided with Yoweri Museveni’s National Resistance Army, which overthrew Obote in 1986. It was these Rwandans, trained and equipped in Uganda, who formed the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), which invaded the country in October 1990 in a bid to oust Habyarimana and install a government of national unity. Denouncing the RPF as a Tutsi army bent on slaughtering Hutu—echoes of 1963—the government in Kigali immediately orchestrated local massacres of Tutsi. Earlier that year Habyarimana had conceded to international pressure and allowed the formation of opposition parties so that, when the RPF invaded, Habyarimana appealed as the head of a ‘democratic state’ to France, Belgium and Zaire for troops and to Egypt and South Africa for weapons. A Structural Adjustment Programme for Rwanda was approved late in 1990, providing more funds which Habyarimana used to buy arms. Indeed, between 1990 and 1994 the Habyarimana regime obtained $83m worth of arms, purchases greatly facilitated by Egypt’s foreign minister at the time, Boutros Boutros-Ghali.

It is to the period immediately after the RPF invasion that Melvern traces the origins of plans for the 1994 genocide. Following the invasion, government officials were requested to draw up lists of opposition leaders and prominent Tutsi, lists which were regularly updated. In the three years of intermittent fighting which ensued, there are repeated instances of plans being made to target the Tutsi as a group, including a report prepared for Habyarimana in December 1991 which identified as ‘the enemy’ Tutsi ‘from inside or outside the country, who are extremists and nostalgic for power’. Behind these lay acute fear of military defeat: the superior field experience of the RPF was proving more than a match for much larger numbers of hastily recruited, ill-trained forces.