Something else that disturbed and angered me was the RGF’s use of children on the front line. I had gotten somewhat used to seeing children doing heavy physical labour in Rwanda, but as I toured the government forces I realized that the soldiers were using children as servants to wash clothes, cook, and clean, and the men demonstrated a disturbing fondness for them while off duty. I was told on more than one occasion that these children were undoubtedly better off with the army—at least they were being fed. But the intimate connection between children and combat troops seemed downright wrong. I never saw children that young with the RPF, though a large number of its soldiers were definitely below eighteen years of age.
The more candid RGF officers told us about the low pay, poor (if any) training, limited reinforcements, troubling desertion rates and lack of confidence among the men, who had been thrown into battle against the proficient RPF and had suffered a heavy toll of casualties, particularly during the last RPF assault in February 1993. An army in this state of disorder could become a very dangerous entity; rallied by a charismatic leader, it could degenerate into a ruthless rabble. I decided that in any mission, the bulk of the UN forces should be deployed south of the demilitarized zone, in the RGF sector.
The Gendarmerie, a paramilitary force built on the French model, was the third structured force in Rwanda and was about six-thousand strong. Its chief of staff, Colonel Augustin Ndindiliyimana, reported to the minister of defence for operational taskings, support and logistics, and to the minister of the interior for day-to-day police work around the country. Bizimana, the defence minister, had a strong hold over the Gendarmerie during periods of war, when it could be mobilized for the front to augment the army. Before the last war, the Gendarmerie had had fewer than two thousand members, but young recruits had tripled its size. In the process, it lost cohesiveness, discipline, training, experience and credibility. Of all the officials with whom we had to work during the mission, Ndindiliyimana was by far the most helpful, candid and open.
Tiko and Major Eddy Delporte, a Belgian military police officer who was attached to us from the UN mission in Western Sahara, conducted the analysis of the Gendarmerie. Their survey revealed an erratically led and undisciplined body of men who ranged from true professional police officers to out-and-out criminals in uniform. Although scattered around the country, the bulk of its force was in Kigali and Ruhengeri. By and large, its members seemed more educated than their colleagues in the army and had a sense of pride. Delporte confirmed that France and Belgium had advisers with the RGF and the Gendarmerie, from their headquarters to their training institutions to their units in the field, an advisory network far more extensive than their ambassadors or military attachés had let on. Delporte tried to get more information from the Belgians but ran up against a brick wall, which we were never able to penetrate. What was their actual mission in Rwanda?
Our staff also made contact with the French para-battalion in Kigali, but the visit yielded little except some map references of RGF sites around the city. The battalion, too, was close-mouthed about its strength and true mission in Rwanda. We rarely saw French soldiers, except at the airport or at night when they operated patrols and roadblocks in and around the capital. On the whole the situation in the city was quiet and restrained, an atmosphere to which the battalion probably contributed. Nights in Kigali and in central Africa are usually extremely dark. The city usually shuts down at last light. I found African nights a startling contrast between peace and quiet, darkness and danger.
Despite the warning signs I could read in the RGF, as we drew our technical mission to a close, I was certain that Rwanda was a place that could benefit from a classic chapter-six peacekeeping mission, if we could invest it with a sense of urgency. The operation would referee the ex-belligerents to ensure that the peace agreement was being implemented and that everybody was playing by the rules. The force would be a combination of armed troops and unarmed observers, deployed with care to all the possible areas of mischief and with strict rules of engagement: we would use our weapons only in self-defence. The alternative to a chapter-six operation was to try to contain the conflict diplomatically (which was a non-starter in the case of Rwanda) or to go to a chapter-seven, or peace-enforcement mission, where the UN would sanction a coalition of nations to invade the country with offensive military force and impose peace on the parties. No nation would be prepared to contribute to a chapter-seven mission to a country where there were no strategic national or international interests and no major threat to international peace and security. Chapter seven had only been used in Korea at the start of the Cold War and, more recently, in the Gulf War and Somalia. Chapter seven scared the war-allergic liberals who dominated the governments of the major powers; it reeked of colonialism and violated national sovereignty; it would ultimately cost vast amounts of resources and blood. If I had even suggested a chapter seven in the case of Rwanda, I would have been on a one-way flight back to Ottawa. Chapter six was the only real option we had.
However, I also knew that given the ethnic nature of the conflict, the presence of some who opposed the agreement, and the potential for banditry or ethnic killings by demobilized soldiers, I needed to be able to confront such challenges with military force. Therefore, in the rules of engagement (ROE) that I proposed for this mission (largely cribbed from the Cambodian rules), we inserted paragraph seventeen, which authorized us to use force up to and including the use of deadly force to prevent “crimes against humanity.” We were breaking new ground, though we didn’t really understand it at the time. We were moving toward what would later be called “Chapter six and a half,” a whole new approach to conflict resolution.
In those twelve days in August in Rwanda, I found plenty of reasons for optimism. Among the most productive and informative meetings I held were two joint sessions between the RPF and the RGF, convened in Kinihira, in the heart of the demilitarized zone, the site where a number of the articles of the Arusha Peace Agreement had been signed over the previous months. The RPF sent Pasteur Bizimungu as its chief spokesman. His counterpart from the RGF was Colonel Théoneste Bagosora, the chef de cabinet of the minister of defence. Bagosora was a bespectacled and pudgy man who seemed slightly bemused by the proceedings. He said he supported Arusha, but more often than not, he was confrontational, especially with the RPF delegation.
Language was a real issue. The RPF delegation, composed mostly of Rwandan refugees who had grown up in English-speaking Uganda, was mostly anglophone, and the Rwandan government representatives were exclusively francophone. I summoned up a lifetime of experience in mediating between the two language groups and expended much energy acting as official translator. I wonder if I might have picked up more of the undercurrents that must have been playing around the negotiating table if I hadn’t been put in that position. Then again, as translator I had to be attentive to every word.
We met in the house of the manager of an expansive tea plantation. From the veranda, which commanded a spectacular view of the surrounding terraced hills and terra cotta cottages, I watched with fascination and disbelief as members of the opposing delegations strolled hand in hand, in informal discussion. Veterans of the Cyprus mission had regaled me with stories of the histrionics employed by the Greek and Turk Cypriots during their negotiations; at one point they insisted on meeting rooms with separate entrances so they wouldn’t have to share the same doorway. At the negotiating table, these men were cold and aggressive, but at breaks and lunch, they were nothing less than fraternal.
Not all delegates partook in these goodwill gestures. Notable exceptions were Bagosora and the chiefs of staff of the RGF and the Gendarmerie.
During the formal sessions, I had both parties explain to me aspects of the peace accords that I did not understand or that required clarification. This strategy enabled me to make sure that everyone understood the meaning of each article in the accords. We ranged from discussing obscure points of order to debating the composition of the RPF light battalion
of six hundred soldiers that would be stationed in Kigali to protect their dignitaries during the establishment of the BBTG. That portion of the meeting took a very long time, as every detail was hammered out, from the size of weapons to ammunition loads. The question of air-defence systems was raised by Bagosora. Only heavy machine guns with special mounts for air-defence fire were permitted. No missiles were authorized. The RPF had declared itself to be in possession of a number of Eastern Bloc short-range missiles, while the RGF claimed no missile capability at all, although I knew they had a number of anti-aircraft guns at Kigali airport and an unreported number of SA-7 missiles. The fact that we had to find a site in the heart of Kigali for an RPF battalion and that both sides had to agree to it, never raised an eyebrow. The RGF claimed that they placed their confidence in the neutral peacekeepers to control the situation.
The biggest problem that I could see was how to handle the demobilization of the armies and the Gendarmerie, and the creation of a new national force. It would not be enough to disarm them and then just let them go. We had to ensure that each soldier was provided with the pensions promised in Arusha and with retraining so they could find other employment. Demobilization was supposed to begin as soon as the BBTG was put in place on September 10, which was only thirteen days away. It was unlikely we would even have the technical report finished by then.
I raised the question of where to find the resources to pay for a safe demobilization and reintegration again and again in the meetings I had with the various diplomatic missions, but got no takers. What frustrated me beyond belief was the inability of anybody at the UN to supply me with information on how other missions had dealt with the problem. I was being forced to reinvent the wheel in a crucial arena under such a tight deadline. Amadou Ly, with his usual optimism, suggested that I try to get the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank on board, and then use their backing to leverage a roundtable of potential donor governments. Failing that, the only other option was to somehow link up demobilization with the overall aid plan proposed by the humanitarian groups who would operate under the umbrella of the UN for the life of the mission.
To that end, we devoted time during the last days of our technical mission to bringing ourselves up to speed with the major humanitarian organizations in Rwanda. This was a feat in itself, since each of these organizations tended to march to the beat of its own drummer and resisted integration into any outside body’s overall plan. Rwanda was one of the most densely populated nations in sub-Saharan Africa. While Arusha had guaranteed the right of return of refugees, none of the terms of their resettlement, such as land ownership and compensation for expropriated property, had been addressed, even by the UNHCR.
As each day passed, bringing with it another debriefing of my team of experts, it became more and more evident that this mission was going to need a lot more money than the initial estimate of $50 million (U.S.). At these daily meetings I insisted that we were not going to leave Kigali until the first draft of the entire report was done. I set such a pace partly to ensure that we covered all the bases while we were in Rwanda and obtained as much information as possible. But I also knew that all my experts would be returning to their regular jobs; I didn’t want to have to chase slippery bureaucrats around the UN for their portions of the report—they knew the building better than I did and therefore knew where to hide. So I held them all to my deadline despite the innovative reasons they offered for pulling out early or for delaying the writing of the report, reasons such as “I’m too tired” or “Can’t we go see the gorillas?” or—my absolute favourite—“I need time to reflect.”
Our meeting room at the Mille Collines had a large rectangle of tables in the centre and workstations around three of the walls. Brent and a few others had finally acquired a very large military map, and it hung on the fourth wall. The demilitarized zone, new minefields, military camps and some of the displaced persons camps were plotted on the map as more information came in every day.
On August 28, four days before we were due to leave the country, Brent, Miguel Martin, Paddy Blagdon, Tiko and Marcel Savard, an ex–Canadian Forces logistics officer who was the leader of the Field Operations Division team, helped me put to paper my concept of operations for a chapter-six mission in Rwanda. I wanted to present three options. Brent and Miguel had finished a clear estimate of the situation—what we’d need to get the job done if we were operating in an ideal world and could get all the troops and resources we asked for. The two earlier technical missions, the first headed by Colonel Cameron Ross from Canada, and the second under Maurice Baril’s direction, had estimated the necessary force initially at 8,000 and then at 5,500 personnel. Our “ideal” recommendation was at the 5,500 level: three battalions (each numbering 800) in the demilitarized zone and two to secure Kigali, with rapid reaction force capability; 350 unarmed military observers to roam the country as the mission’s eyes and ears; full logistical support, helicopters, armoured personnel carriers, vehicles, hospital, the works. I knew from my talks with Maurice that this recommendation would never leave the DPKO.
We called our next estimate the “reasonable viable option.” It called for a significantly smaller force of about 2,500 personnel and required the mission to take more risks as a result, but it was more likely to be approved and eventually deployed. It was the one we spent the most time refining. Talking it over with Maurice on the UNDP’s secure line, he suggested that we work out how to deploy the troops in stages so that we would cause the least burden to the UN and the troop-contributing nations.
The final option was designed to address the concerns of the United States, France and Russia, whose ambassadors had all insisted that the mission needed a force of only five hundred to one thousand personnel. We did not really see how this could work, and concentrated on laying out in the draft all the risks such a course would entail.
We anticipated that, with the support of Maurice, the “reasonable viable option” would be approved. Even before we left Rwanda, Brent and the others began working on how we could accelerate the approval of the mandate and be ready for rapid deployment.
At my meeting with the French ambassador the day before I left, I took the opportunity to run some of my findings past him. The ambassador thought my report reasonable, but as soon as I started to talk actual figures, the French military attaché leapt into the fray. He said he couldn’t understand why I needed so many troops. France had a battalion of only 325 personnel stationed in the country and the situation seemed to be well in hand. There was an awkward moment as the ambassador reiterated his support for my plan and the attaché sat back in his chair silently fuming. The attaché’s position made no sense to me, and I concluded that he was being deliberately obstructive. The incident alerted me to an outright split between the policy being followed by France’s foreign affairs department and its ministry of defence. Another thing to ponder.
I was alarmed that I still hadn’t had a meeting with President Habyarimana. He and his regime had signed the accords under some duress. Habyarimana finally sent word that he would see me at the palace on the last day I was to be in Rwanda. The junior political officer from the DPA and Ly were to accompany me; we dressed for a formal meeting.
The presidential palace was a modern condominium complex, understated but elegant, with what looked to be expensive art on the walls. We were ushered out to a patio area where we found the president, dressed in a short-sleeved, open-necked shirt, seated under a Cinzano umbrella. With him was his chef de cabinet, Enoch Ruhigira; Nsabimana, the RGF’s chief of staff; Ndindiliyimana from the Gendarmerie; another RGF colonel; and Bagosora, whom I’d met during the two days of talks between the RGF and the RPF. Surprisingly neither the prime minister, the prime minister designate, the minister of defence nor the minister of justice were present.
Habyarimana must have been a very handsome man when he was younger, and his stature and appearance were still impressive. He welcomed us warmly, and I gave him a short briefing on
my findings and recommendations. He listened intently and seemed to find no fault with my report. He pressed me to get a UN force on the ground as soon as possible—no move to install the BBTG could happen without peacekeepers in Kigali. We talked for about forty-five minutes while the others remained quiet. Habyarimana smiled easily and spoke sincerely of the problems of the displaced persons and the drought. He indicated that the country had now embarked on a very complex road to peace and that the international community needed to respond favourably to my report urging the earliest deployment of a UN peacekeeping mission to Rwanda. It still worried me that he had not publicly embraced the mission, but I had no reason not to take him at face value.
As we prepared to leave Rwanda, nothing I had seen or heard swayed me from my initial assessment that a mission was both possible and essential. Brent and the rest of the reconnaissance team were flying back to New York. I was continuing on to Tanzania to meet with President Ali Hassan Mwinyi, the facilitator of the Arusha Peace Agreement, and then to Ethiopia to see Salim Ahmed Salim, secretary-general of the OAU. Both of these men had been key to the Arusha accords, and I was hoping that they could confirm my impressions and give me a sense of the bigger picture. We also had to iron out whether the OAU wanted to continue to play a role in the implementation of the accords, as the RPF certainly wished.
To my surprise, Pédanou, who had recovered nicely from his emergency surgery, joined me in Dar es Salaam. He immediately assumed his position as Head of Mission, treating me as his number two. I tried to shrug this off, reasoning that he already knew Mwinyi well from the Arusha process. It made sense for him to take the lead, but it rankled.
We met with the Tanzanian president at the old governor’s palace, which was opulent. I was a little awed by the surroundings and expected an arrogant, high-handed African despot. I couldn’t have been more mistaken. Mwinyi was every inch the elder statesman, dignified and courteous, yet with a warmth and charm that immediately put you at ease. He listened attentively to my briefing and judged it to be a reasonable assessment of the situation. He was the first person to tell me that the September 10 milestone had been picked with great care as it marked the beginning of the school year and of the planting season. It was vital to take advantage of the sense that change was in the air, that this movement toward a new unified, democratic Rwanda was natural and inevitable. I was beginning to feel almost ebullient, taking Mwinyi’s official blessing of my proposed operational plan as a very good sign.