Features

3. Safe Sanctuary?: The role of the church in genocide

Camille Karangwa

http://www.pambazuka.org/en/category/features/21192

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1994 was the most tragic year in the history of Rwanda as the country experienced a genocide that swept away more than a million Tutsi. This was a carefully conceived, planned and carried out genocide, as proven by its record death toll. The world was shocked.

To this day, people still wonder what the causes of this slaughter were. Some even point at the church of Rwanda, in this instance the Catholic Church, which was then the most representative and the most influential in the country. Indeed, it represents more than 60% of the population and had for a long time boasted the moral high ground, which could have been used to curb this disaster.

The question is then to know whether the church really tried to make use of its influence or if it rather failed to fulfill its duties, as several analyses seem to confirm. At the moment when we commemorate the tenth anniversary of those tragic events, it is necessary to sort the events out and draw out the responsibilities of the parties. This contribution is based on personal experience as well as various investigations in this field.

As soon as they arrived in Rwanda in the 1900s, the first settlers and white missionaries found a well-structured country ruled by the Mwami. Even though the power was concentrated in the hands of the Tutsi minority, the missionaries did not deign to protest against this situation.

They even found it natural and went as far as asserting that the Tutsi were intellectually superior to the Hutus and were the only ones able to rule the country. They invented the Hamite myth that said the Tutsi were actually white men with a black skin. They developed typologies that were probably influenced by the evolutionist theories that were fashionable in those days.

The schools they opened were almost exclusively reserved for Tutsi children. They also made an obvious effort to convert to their religion numerous children from the aristocracy.

For decades, both the Belgian colonial power therefore relied on the Tutsi, stockbreeders more akin to a cast than to an ethnic group, to rule the country and dominate the Hutu farmers, by far the largest group in the country.

But in the late 1950's, when the Tutsi elite started to wave claims of independence and the Mwami contemplated appealing to the United Nations, both Belgium and the Church decided to defend the democratic rights of the Hutu majority, embodied by Grégoire Kayibanda, former secretary of the bishop of Kabgayi and founder of the Party for the Promotion of the Hutu People (ParmeHutu).

The Catholic Church actively involved itself with the first Hutu revolutionaries, often former pupils of its schools, and denounced the social injustice it had once promoted. A letter of Mgr André Perraudin, then bishop of Kabgayi, that was published at the occasion of the Lent of 1959, agrees in many aspects with the broad outlines of the Hutu manifesto launched on the 24th of March 1959.

In this pastoral letter entitled ‘Super Omnia Caritas’, the prelate declared that the resources as well as the political and even judicial powers were in truly considerable proportion within the hands of people of one race only. He predicted imminent bloodshed if the situation was to remain unchanged.

After a referendum, carefully guided by the Belgian colonial power and the church, had installed a republic, thus exiling the last king, the Tutsi were stripped from their power, evicted from their lands and physically threatened. Hundred of thousands of them sought refuge in neighbouring countries, notably Uganda.

Throughout the three following decades, the Church was perfectly aware of human rights violations but did not lift a finger. It gave its blessing to the abuses of power of the young republic and got further involved in social activities. This conniving silence was indubitably interpreted by the rulers as a sign of support.

Grégoire Kayibanda, the first president, was close to catholic circles and had clergymen among his counsellors, specifically his grace André Perraudin, who was seen as his spiritual father. The first republic displayed notorious intransigence towards the exiles and exercised undisputed power under cover of majority democracy. Instead of grasping this opportunity to reassure the royalists and the Tutsi in general, the government was driven by feelings of revenge.

Every time an attack was launched by the exiles, the Tutsi paid for it with their blood. This was the case in the years 1961/1962. The president himself declared in his speeches that such actions by the exiles endangered the lives of their brothers who stayed in the country. The Catholic Church, present out in the field all across the country, did nothing to stop the mass killings and went on working hand in hand with the government until it collapsed.

Major-General Juvénal Habyarimana, then staff officer of the army, seized power in 1973. The Church ignored the circumstances in which this power was taken and gave full support to the new regime. When the MRND, the party of the president and future grassroots of the infamous interahamwe, was founded in 1975, some religious leaders became active members. A system of ethnically based quotas introduced by the government was also applied in some religious schools. The same racial discrimination was carried out in the choice of bishops.

At no point did the Church raise its voice to denounce the dictatorship of the MRND and its policy of exclusion. Those who dared to criticize it, such as Mrs Félicula Nyiramutarambirwa and father Silvio Sindambiwe, have paid dearly for their views.

The Church also took an active part in party propaganda. Certain homilies often sounded like popular meetings. After the attack of the FPR rebels in 1990, the government did a mock attack on Kigali and arbitrarily arrested thousands of Tutsi. The Church again missed the opportunity to distance itself from the government.

Mass killings like those in Bugesera and Bigogwe, which were aimed at Tutsi, did not change anything. When it was time to contribute to the war effort, the Church was more than eager. This connivance from the Church and the state would carry on until the genocide and even its eruption in April 1994 did not change the position of the Church. The first massacres of the morning of the 7th of April took place in Kigali at Remera Christus Centre where priests, seminarians on holiday and other visitors were killed.

The behaviour of these men of God in those crucial moments is revolting to say the least; some of them even handed over their own colleagues to the executioners; others refused to shelter in their parishes the refugees flocking there; and others offered to hide them only to fetch the interahamwe afterwards.

This was the case of the two Benedictine nuns, Consolate Mukangango and Julienne Mukabutera, who used to run the convent in Sovu and collaborated with the killers to the point where they provided them with the petrol that was to set ablaze the building where 500 Tutsi were hiding. They have recently been sentenced by a Brussels court to 15 and 12 years respectively.

The case of minister Elizaphan Ntakirutimana should not be ignored either. At more than 70 years of age, he was the minister of the Adventist Church of the Seventh Day in Mugonero, Kibuye. The International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda recently sentenced him to 10 years in jail. Instead of answering to the cries for help of his Tutsi colleagues who relied on his influence in the area and begged him to intervene, he sent them militia men while he was himself driving killers to different massacre sites in his own vehicle.

These are only a few examples among thousands. Indeed, other religious people are still held prisoners or are wanted by justice. Churches, once seen as sanctuaries, were turned into slaughterhouses. The churches of Nyarubuye, Cyahinda, Karama, and Kibeho have become remnants of this sad episode. Men of God, who once were seen as role models and enjoyed an indisputable moral authority, did not know how to use it in order to save lives of innocents. Their silence and their participation in those fatal moments brought a sort of “acknowledgement and legitimacy” to the ignoble acts in the eyes of the killers.

The priest and the minister have always been considered upright, wise and even saintly. It is therefore quite obvious that their attitude mattered enormously for their congregation. The highest hierarchy, doubtlessly closer to the government, did not use its influence to bring political officials to their senses. Five weeks after the genocide had started, four Catholic bishops and a few ministers of the Protestant Church published a document, which was, to say the least, half-hearted, in which they called on both parties, the then government and the RPF troops, to stop the massacres. The word genocide was not even suggested.

When the government fled the fights and settled in the centre of the country, the bishops abandoned their dioceses to follow it. They later did the same thing when, after the defeat, they scattered into Zaire, Tanzania, Cameroon etc.

The attitude of the Church at the end of the genocide was not one of great courage. Some of its members went into revisionism, others tried to cover the crimes of their colleagues. To this day, the Church as an institution has never apologized for this very serious failure.

From the Vatican to the Episcopal council of Rwanda, there is contentment with saying that the crimes of some of theirs have nothing to do with the Church as a whole, thus seeming to ignore that they have been educated, ordained and appointed by the Church.

Furthermore, those who ran towards them did so because they saw in them a representative of the Church. Without playing down its part in the economic and social field of the country, the Church failed seriously. Whether one admits it or not, it has played an active part in the misery that has befallen on Rwanda and has lost some of its credibility. Not to acknowledge it would be foolish.

* Camille Karangwa survived the genocide in Rwanda and now lives in Pretoria, South Africa, where he works for the African Association of Political Science. He has just published at the ‘Editions du jour’ a book entitled ‘Le chapelet et la machette : Sur les traces du génocide rwandais’. He can be contacted at the following address: camijour@yahoo.com

* NOTE FOR EDITORS: Please note that this editorial was commissioned from the author for Pambazuka News. If you would like to use this article for your publication, please do so with the following credit: "This article first appeared in Pambazuka News, an electronic newsletter for social justice in Africa, www.pambazuka.org" Editors are also encouraged to make a donation.
1994 was the most tragic year in the history of Rwanda as the country experienced a genocide that swept away more than a million Tutsi. This was a carefully conceived, planned and carried out genocide, as proven by its record death toll. The world was shocked.

To this day, people still wonder what the causes of this slaughter were. Some even point at the church of Rwanda, in this instance the Catholic Church, which was then the most representative and the most influential in the country. Indeed, it represents more than 60% of the population and had for a long time boasted the moral high ground, which could have been used to curb this disaster.

The question is then to know whether the church really tried to make use of its influence or if it rather failed to fulfill its duties, as several analyses seem to confirm. At the moment when we commemorate the tenth anniversary of those tragic events, it is necessary to sort the events out and draw out the responsibilities of the parties. This contribution is based on personal experience as well as various investigations in this field.

As soon as they arrived in Rwanda in the 1900s, the first settlers and white missionaries found a well-structured country ruled by the Mwami. Even though the power was concentrated in the hands of the Tutsi minority, the missionaries did not deign to protest against this situation.

They even found it natural and went as far as asserting that the Tutsi were intellectually superior to the Hutus and were the only ones able to rule the country. They invented the Hamite myth that said the Tutsi were actually white men with a black skin. They developed typologies that were probably influenced by the evolutionist theories that were fashionable in those days.

The schools they opened were almost exclusively reserved for Tutsi children. They also made an obvious effort to convert to their religion numerous children from the aristocracy.

For decades, both the Belgian colonial power therefore relied on the Tutsi, stockbreeders more akin to a cast than to an ethnic group, to rule the country and dominate the Hutu farmers, by far the largest group in the country.

But in the late 1950's, when the Tutsi elite started to wave claims of independence and the Mwami contemplated appealing to the United Nations, both Belgium and the Church decided to defend the democratic rights of the Hutu majority, embodied by Grégoire Kayibanda, former secretary of the bishop of Kabgayi and founder of the Party for the Promotion of the Hutu People (ParmeHutu).

The Catholic Church actively involved itself with the first Hutu revolutionaries, often former pupils of its schools, and denounced the social injustice it had once promoted. A letter of Mgr André Perraudin, then bishop of Kabgayi, that was published at the occasion of the Lent of 1959, agrees in many aspects with the broad outlines of the Hutu manifesto launched on the 24th of March 1959.

In this pastoral letter entitled ‘Super Omnia Caritas’, the prelate declared that the resources as well as the political and even judicial powers were in truly considerable proportion within the hands of people of one race only. He predicted imminent bloodshed if the situation was to remain unchanged.

After a referendum, carefully guided by the Belgian colonial power and the church, had installed a republic, thus exiling the last king, the Tutsi were stripped from their power, evicted from their lands and physically threatened. Hundred of thousands of them sought refuge in neighbouring countries, notably Uganda.

Throughout the three following decades, the Church was perfectly aware of human rights violations but did not lift a finger. It gave its blessing to the abuses of power of the young republic and got further involved in social activities. This conniving silence was indubitably interpreted by the rulers as a sign of support.

Grégoire Kayibanda, the first president, was close to catholic circles and had clergymen among his counsellors, specifically his grace André Perraudin, who was seen as his spiritual father. The first republic displayed notorious intransigence towards the exiles and exercised undisputed power under cover of majority democracy. Instead of grasping this opportunity to reassure the royalists and the Tutsi in general, the government was driven by feelings of revenge.

Every time an attack was launched by the exiles, the Tutsi paid for it with their blood. This was the case in the years 1961/1962. The president himself declared in his speeches that such actions by the exiles endangered the lives of their brothers who stayed in the country. The Catholic Church, present out in the field all across the country, did nothing to stop the mass killings and went on working hand in hand with the government until it collapsed.

Major-General Juvénal Habyarimana, then staff officer of the army, seized power in 1973. The Church ignored the circumstances in which this power was taken and gave full support to the new regime. When the MRND, the party of the president and future grassroots of the infamous interahamwe, was founded in 1975, some religious leaders became active members. A system of ethnically based quotas introduced by the government was also applied in some religious schools. The same racial discrimination was carried out in the choice of bishops.

At no point did the Church raise its voice to denounce the dictatorship of the MRND and its policy of exclusion. Those who dared to criticize it, such as Mrs Félicula Nyiramutarambirwa and father Silvio Sindambiwe, have paid dearly for their views.

The Church also took an active part in party propaganda. Certain homilies often sounded like popular meetings. After the attack of the FPR rebels in 1990, the government did a mock attack on Kigali and arbitrarily arrested thousands of Tutsi. The Church again missed the opportunity to distance itself from the government.

Mass killings like those in Bugesera and Bigogwe, which were aimed at Tutsi, did not change anything. When it was time to contribute to the war effort, the Church was more than eager. This connivance from the Church and the state would carry on until the genocide and even its eruption in April 1994 did not change the position of the Church. The first massacres of the morning of the 7th of April took place in Kigali at Remera Christus Centre where priests, seminarians on holiday and other visitors were killed.

The behaviour of these men of God in those crucial moments is revolting to say the least; some of them even handed over their own colleagues to the executioners; others refused to shelter in their parishes the refugees flocking there; and others offered to hide them only to fetch the interahamwe afterwards.

This was the case of the two Benedictine nuns, Consolate Mukangango and Julienne Mukabutera, who used to run the convent in Sovu and collaborated with the killers to the point where they provided them with the petrol that was to set ablaze the building where 500 Tutsi were hiding. They have recently been sentenced by a Brussels court to 15 and 12 years respectively.

The case of minister Elizaphan Ntakirutimana should not be ignored either. At more than 70 years of age, he was the minister of the Adventist Church of the Seventh Day in Mugonero, Kibuye. The International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda recently sentenced him to 10 years in jail. Instead of answering to the cries for help of his Tutsi colleagues who relied on his influence in the area and begged him to intervene, he sent them militia men while he was himself driving killers to different massacre sites in his own vehicle.

These are only a few examples among thousands. Indeed, other religious people are still held prisoners or are wanted by justice. Churches, once seen as sanctuaries, were turned into slaughterhouses. The churches of Nyarubuye, Cyahinda, Karama, and Kibeho have become remnants of this sad episode. Men of God, who once were seen as role models and enjoyed an indisputable moral authority, did not know how to use it in order to save lives of innocents. Their silence and their participation in those fatal moments brought a sort of “acknowledgement and legitimacy” to the ignoble acts in the eyes of the killers.

The priest and the minister have always been considered upright, wise and even saintly. It is therefore quite obvious that their attitude mattered enormously for their congregation. The highest hierarchy, doubtlessly closer to the government, did not use its influence to bring political officials to their senses. Five weeks after the genocide had started, four Catholic bishops and a few ministers of the Protestant Church published a document, which was, to say the least, half-hearted, in which they called on both parties, the then government and the RPF troops, to stop the massacres. The word genocide was not even suggested.

When the government fled the fights and settled in the centre of the country, the bishops abandoned their dioceses to follow it. They later did the same thing when, after the defeat, they scattered into Zaire, Tanzania, Cameroon etc.

The attitude of the Church at the end of the genocide was not one of great courage. Some of its members went into revisionism, others tried to cover the crimes of their colleagues. To this day, the Church as an institution has never apologized for this very serious failure.

From the Vatican to the Episcopal council of Rwanda, there is contentment with saying that the crimes of some of theirs have nothing to do with the Church as a whole, thus seeming to ignore that they have been educated, ordained and appointed by the Church.

Furthermore, those who ran towards them did so because they saw in them a representative of the Church. Without playing down its part in the economic and social field of the country, the Church failed seriously. Whether one admits it or not, it has played an active part in the misery that has befallen on Rwanda and has lost some of its credibility. Not to acknowledge it would be foolish.

* Camille Karangwa survived the genocide in Rwanda and now lives in Pretoria, South Africa, where he works for the African Association of Political Science. He has just published at the ‘Editions du jour’ a book entitled ‘Le chapelet et la machette : Sur les traces du génocide rwandais’. He can be contacted at the following address: camijour@yahoo.com

* NOTE FOR EDITORS: Please note that this editorial was commissioned from the author for Pambazuka News. If you would like to use this article for your publication, please do so with the following credit: "This article first appeared in Pambazuka News, an electronic newsletter for social justice in Africa, www.pambazuka.org" Editors are also encouraged to make a donation.