The Dynamics of Violence in Central Africa. Rene Lemarchand
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characteristics became even more evident after the 1993 exodus and the emergence of several military wings of rival parties, the Front de Libération National (Frolina), the Forces pour la Défense de la Démocratie (FDD), and the division of the Palipehutu into three separate factions. Though some are said to draw benefits from the smuggling networks in Kigoma, and more recently from the shipment of arms from Zimbabwe and Kinshasa, their resource base is hopelessly inadequate for the task at hand: “All of the rebel groups (in Tanzania) complain of the lack of funding, arms and other resources necessary to carry out a sustained military campaign in Burundi.” 16Again, compared to the RPF's ability to draw international support (most notably from the U.S. Committee for Refugees in Washington) and visibility, the performance of the refugee factions on that score is less than impressive. “The main complaint of the rebels,” notes a recent International Crisis Group report, “is the lack of international support. As one rebel leader said: ‘ we don' t have anyone to support us the way the Banyamulenge are supported by Rwanda and Uganda.’ ” 17
The case of the 1994 refugees from Rwanda is unlike any other in terms of the magnitude of the human flow, the volume of weaponry transferred, the tightness of the political and military encadrement, the extensive support it received from the Mobutist state, its devastating impact on the natural environment, its catalytic effect on ethnic loyalties, the questions its raises about the political implications of humanitarian aid, and last but not least, the ultimate tragedy they suffered at the hands of the RPA. To review each of these dimensions would take us too far afield. Suffice to note that the seriousness of the threats posed to the new Rwandan state was without parallel in the history of mobilized diasporas. Exceptional circumstances called for exceptional measures. However, the destruction of the camps in October 1996 by the RPA was part of a wider underlying design, namely, not just to “secure” Rwanda's western border but to (a) to extend the search-and-destroy operations to the campsites in South Kivu and in so doing, deal a crippling blow to the refugee populations sheltering extremists (b) deny Uganda's armed opposition movements (notably Tabliq and the West Nile Liberation Front) access to safe havens in the Congo, and (c) pave the way for Kabila's “second coming.” On each count the Kagame strategy succeeded beyond all expectations, at least in the short run. From a wider perspective and with the benefit of hindsight, it is clear that the ultimate goal of the operation—making the Congo safe for Rwanda—has fallen somewhat short of the master planners' expectations.
THE TOOLS OF POLITICAL MOBILIZATION
As this discussion makes clear, contextual variables are of critical importance in explaining the success or failure of mobilized diasporas. Nonetheless, agency also matters. Context alone is not enough to explain the different tools and techniques that enter into processes of mobilization: ranging from coercion to ideological manipulation, from rumor mongering to arms smuggling, from practices and attitudes borrowed from the world of the invisible, and to the use and misuse of information designed to raise the political awareness of the rank and file. Not all of these are productive of success.
Coercive mobilization by some factions of the Hutu diaspora has often had the opposite effect of what was intended, causing tremendous disaffection among civilians and bitter rivalries among exile factions. What some factions view as legitimate means of ideological mobilization—such as the diffusion of historical narratives designed to demonize the Tutsi enemy, a favorite Palipehutiste technique—others tend to reject. Recourse to magic looms large in the arsenal of Congolese factions, notably among the Mai-Mai and the RCD, sometimes with disastrous consequences for the families and communities to whom, wrongly or rightly, magic powers have been attributed. Next to the availability of funding and weapons, information (or misinformation) is of critical importance. On that score, the performance of the Tutsi diaspora in Uganda ranks far above its Hutu counterparts.
Quite aside from its efficiency in collecting funds from exile Tutsi communities and gaining a privileged access to NRA equipment, compared to Hutu refugee movements, the Uganda exiles have been remarkably adept at mobilizing support through their skillful manipulation of information. This fact goes far in explaining its capacity to sway international public opinion long after the diaspora had become a nation.
Another Look at Theory
What new light do the theories mentioned earlier shed on the dynamics of ethnoregional conflict in the Great Lakes? The answer, in part, depends on how they “fit” into any particular aspect of the crisis.
Let us begin with Huntington. The whole drift of our argument, centered on the concept of exclusion, can be read as a refutation of the “clash of civilization” thesis; by the same token, his discussion of the “kin country syndrome” is of direct relevance to an understanding of the patterns of ethnic mobilization unleashed by refugee diasporas. As our previous discussion makes clear, where ethnic fault lines cut across national boundaries, conflict tends to spill over from one national arena to the next, transforming kin solidarities into a powerful vector of transnational violence. An action-reaction pattern sets in, whereby victims in one setting become instigators of violence in the other. Largely missing from Huntington's discussion, however, is a sustained attention to mobilization strategies, including the kinds of resources employed to mobilize support.
This is where Collier's paper offers some challenging insights. I refer specifically to his analysis of the role of diasporas and access to financial resources as crucial factors in explaining the risk of civil war. On the other hand, serious questions arise as to whether the financial viability of rebel factions, including refugee diasporas, is entirely reducible to the opportunities offered by commodity export economies. If this were the case, the whole of the continent would be tottering on the brink of insurrection. Not just any export commodity but gold and diamonds are the rebels' best friends.
Whether through gem trading or any other source of profits, financial viability matters. There is no denying the cardinal importance of the looting of gold and diamond resources in eastern Congo in the funding of the war effort by Kigali and Kampala and of the deadly rivalries over the loot in pitting Rwanda against Uganda in Kisangani. Nonetheless, “financial viability” only tells part of the story. Crucial as they are in explaining the failure or success of mobilized diasporas, contextual opportunities are not limited to financial viability; equally important is the political viability of rebel and refugee movements, most notably their ability to negotiate political and military support. This is true not only of the RCD factions today, but was certainly the case for the second generation Tutsi refugees in Uganda in the 1980s.
Where the Collier thesis seems most vulnerable is in the rejection of objective socioeconomic indicators as a source of civil violence: “Objective measures of social grievance, such as inequality, a lack of democracy, and ethnic and religious divisions, have no systematic effect on risk…because civil wars occur when rebel organizations are financially viable.” 18 Quite aside from the fact that the argument simply doesn' t hold up in the face of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary—a fact that Collier might conceivably explain away by relegating Rwanda, Burundi, and eastern Congo to deviant cases—one wonders why one set of independent variables (objective measures of social grievance) should exclude the other (financial viability).
Categorically dismissing rebellion as “protest motivated by genuine and extreme grievance,” Collier offers a striking analogy: “For a few moments suspend disbelief,” he writes, “and suppose that most rebel movements are pretty close to being large-scale variants of organized crime. The discourse would be exactly the same as if they were protest movements.” 19 Nowhere, however, does he consider the alternative proposition that the state might qualify as the criminal and the rebels as victims of state crimes. This is, of course, the central argument set forth by Bayart, Ellis, and Hibou in their recent work on the criminalization of the state.20 This is not meant to deny the propensity of rebel and refugees, and refugees turned rebels, to engage in criminal activities, yet it is important to note that the phrase covers a wide spectrum of illegal activities and that such criminal activities often pale in comparison with those carried out by the state. Rwanda under Habyalimana, Zaire under Mobutu, and the Burundi armed forces under Buyoya all exhibit, to some degree or another, at one point or another, what can only be described as a criminal behavior of the worst kind, including political assassination, theft, and corruption on a grand scale.