Introduction to the topic. The France-Rwanda dispute (1994-2022)

Étienne Smith

doi:10.3917/polaf.166.0005

Notes

[1]
With thanks to Séverine Awenengo Dalberto, Boris Samuel, Christine Deslaurier, Florent Piton, Mathilde Beaufils, Hélène Dumas, and Benjamin Chemouni for their valuable feedback on this introduction.
[2]
Christophe Ayad and Philippe Bernard, “Rwanda, une passion française,” Le Monde Afrique, January 26, 2012. Translator’s note: Our translation. Unless otherwise stated, all translations of cited foreign language material in this article are our own.
[3]
Paul Quilès, Pierre Brana, and Bernard Cazeneuve, Rapport d’information, déposé en application de l’article 145 du Réglement, par la mission d’information de la Commission de la défense nationale et des forces armées et de la Commission des affaires étrangères, sur les opérations militaires menées par la France, d’autre pays et l’ONU au Rwanda entre 1990 et 1994 (Paris: National Assembly of France, 1998).
[4]
François-Xavier Verschave and Laure Coret, eds., L’horreur qui nous prend au visage. L’État français et le génocide au Rwanda. Rapport de la Commission d’enquête citoyenne (Paris: Karthala, 2005).
[5]
Vincent Duclert, La France, le Rwanda et le génocide des Tutsi (1990–1994): Rapport remis au président de la République le 26 mars 2021 (Paris: Armand Colin, 2021).
[6]
See the doctoral thesis that Mathilde Beaufils at the ISP (Institut des sciences sociales du politique, Université Paris Nanterre) has been working on since 2019 and François Robinet’s upcoming work (habilitation à diriger des recherches, HDR). For an assessment of the stages of the controversy in the middle of and toward the end of the 2000s, but from opposing perspectives, see Claudine Vidal, “La politique de la France au Rwanda de 1990 à 1994. Les nouveaux publicistes de l’histoire conspirationniste,” Les temps modernes 642 (2007): 117–43; Jean-Pierre Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux,” Politique africaine 113 (2009): 121–38. For more recent assessments, see François Robinet, “Le rôle de la France au Rwanda: Les journalistes français au cœur d’une nouvelle guerre de mémoire (1994–2015),” Le temps des médias 26 (2016): 211–30; Alain Gabet and Sébastien Jahan, “‘Les faits sont têtus’: Vingt ans de déni sur le rôle de la France au Rwanda (1994–2014). Deuxième partie: Lâchetés politiques et complicités médiatiques,” Cahiers d’histoire. Revue d’histoire critique 129 (2015): 153–73; Joël Hubrecht, “La difficile introspection de la France au Rwanda,” Esprit 7–8 (2019): 199–205.
[7]
Pierre Péan during his appeal hearing, 11th chamber of the Paris Court of Appeal, September 9, 2009.
[8]
“It was activist associations that contributed most effectively to the repeatedly launched attacks against the French authorities by consistently leading campaigns that employed all sorts of mobilizing techniques (petitions, the organization of conferences, and the dissemination of newsletters). Despite serving to consolidate the argument of France’s ‘complicity’ in the genocide against Rwandan Tutsis, this accusatory spirit also had the effect of creating a heated atmosphere full of excommunications, which was made all the more intolerant by many activists being unaverse to the benefits of posturing as the defender of the oppressed in the face of a criminal power.” Claudine Vidal, “Du soupçon civique à l’enquête citoyenne: Controverses sur la politique de la France au Rwanda de 1990 à 1994,” Critique internationale 36 (2007): 73–74.
[9]
“The main themes of these conferences, which were later feverishly rehashed on websites dedicated to the topic, were well-crafted: in the Rwandan Civil War, ‘interethnic massacres’ led to victims on both sides and what the world called ‘genocide’ was simply one episode of them; the ‘sudden’ anger of the Hutus was understandable (and here, the justifications for the argument go as far as suggesting that racist rhetoric from a bygone era about ‘Tutsi deceitfulness’ was not untrue); the international courts were biased; ultimately, the RPF [the Rwandan Patriotic Front] were responsible for the genocide against the Tutsis and were in fact covering up an Anglo-Saxon conspiracy to dominate Central Africa; and finally, those who did not share this view were merely lackeys for the RPF or the United States. We are witnessing the return of an ‘anti-France’ narrative.” Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux,” 131–32.
[10]
François Robinet, “Le rôle de la France au Rwanda: L’histoire piégée?,” Revue d’histoire culturelle 2 (2021): 890, accessed August 12, 2022, doi: 10.56698/rhc.890.
[11]
Ibid.
[12]
Jean-Pierre Chrétien, “Le Rwanda et la France: La démocratie ou les ethnies?” Esprit 190 (1993): 190–95; Jean-Pierre Chrétien, “Rwanda. La responsabilité de la France,” Politique africaine 54 (1994): 2–6; Gérard Prunier, Rwanda: Le génocide, (Paris: Dagorno, 1995); Jean-François Bayart, “Rwanda: Les ambiguïtés d’une intervention,” Esprit 204 (1994): 187–89; Jean-François Bayart and Gustave Massiah, “La France au Rwanda. Entretien,” Les temps modernes 583 (1995): 216–27; Marc Le Pape, “Les engagements français au Rwanda,” Politique africaine 71 (1998): 172–79; Marc Le Pape, “Les engagements français au Rwanda (2),” Politique africaine 73 (1999): 171–75; Jean-Pierre Chrétien, “Les responsabilités politiques du génocide, vues de Bruxelles et de Paris,” Politique africaine 73 (1999): 159–64.
[13]
David Ambrosetti, La France au Rwanda. Un discours de légitimation morale (Paris: Karthala, 2001); Olivier Lanotte, La France au Rwanda (1990–1994). Entre abstention impossible et engagement ambivalent, (Brussels: P.I.E. Peter Lang, 2007).
[14]
For a literature review, see: Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau, Une initiation. Rwanda (1994–2016) (Paris: Seuil, 2017), 53–68; Robinet, “Le rôle de la France au Rwanda: L’histoire piégée?,” 890.
[15]
The term “Africanist” is used here in an institutional sense, relating to the institutions associated with the field and its inclusion in academic collaboration networks (specialized journals, professional associations, and research groups). We do not discuss the legitimacy or various ways of (mis)using this term here.
[16]
Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau, “La responsabilité de la France vue du Rwanda. Le rapport Mucyo: Une lecture historienne,” Esprit 364 (2010): 122–34; François Robinet, “L’empreinte des récits médiatiques: Mémoires françaises du génocide des Tutsi du Rwanda,” Les temps modernes 680 (2014): 166–88.
[17]
Florence Bernault, “La communauté africaniste française au crible de la crise rwandaise,” Politique africaine 68 (1997): 114.
[18]
The origins of the polarization of academic research on Rwanda and Burundi since before 1994 are not dealt with here, as they are not relevant to France’s involvement, but it is interesting to note that some aspects of that controversy, which was originally more about Burundi than Rwanda (with importance to be given to ethnicity, evaluation of the Habyarimana regime in Rwanda, or the regimes of Bagaza and later Buyoya in Burundi, and the categorization of mass violence, etc.), remain reflected in the new controversy about France’s involvement from 1994 given the presence of some of the same key actors (Reyntjens versus Chrétien) and because certain questions arise repeatedly when French political, diplomatic, or military figures endorse or challenge one academic position or another, or because these researchers have made public statements.
[19]
Vincent Duclert referencing the report by Felwine Sarr and Bénédicte Savoy: The Restitution of African Cultural Heritage. Toward a New Relational Ethics, trans. Drew S. Burk (Paris: Presidency of France, 2018), 26, accessed January 3, 2023, https://web.archive.org/web/20190328181703/http://restitutionreport2018.com/sarr_savoy_en.pdf.
[20]
Bernault, “La communauté africaniste française au crible de la crise rwandaise,” 114.
[21]
See the online database compiled by Jacques Morel and his team: France Génocide Tutsi, https://francegenocidetutsi.org/, accessed September 5, 2022.
[22]
See, among others: François-Xavier Verschave, Complicité de génocide? La politique de la France au Rwanda (Paris: La Découverte, 1994); Pascal Krop, Le génocide franco-africain. Faut-il juger les Mitterrand? (Paris: JC Lattès, 1994); Mehdi Ba, Rwanda, Un génocide français (Paris: L’esprit frappeur, 1997); Monique Mas, Paris-Kigali 1990–1994. Lunettes coloniales, politique du sabre et onction humanitaire pour un génocide en Afrique, (Paris: L’Harmattan, 1999); Jean-Paul Gouteux, La nuit rwandaise: L’implication française dans le dernier génocide du siècle (Paris: L’esprit frappeur, 2002); Jacques Morel, La France au cœur du génocide des Tutsi (Paris: L’esprit frappeur/Izuba éditions, 2010); Laure de Vulpian and Thierry Prugnaud, Silence Turquoise: Rwanda 1992–1994. Responsabilités de l’État français dans le génocide des Tutsi (Paris: Don Quichotte, 2012); Benôit Collombat and David Servenay, “Au nom de la France.” Guerres secrètes au Rwanda (Paris: La Découverte, 2014); François Graner, Le sabre et la machette. Officiers français et génocide tutsi (Mons: Tribord, 2014); Jean-François Dupaquier, Politiques, militaires et mercenaires français au Rwanda. Chronique d’une désinformation (Paris: Karthala, 2014); Laurent Larcher, Rwanda: Ils parlent. Témoignages pour l’histoire (Paris: Seuil, 2019); Raphaël Doridant and François Graner, L’État français et le génocide des Tutsis au Rwanda (Marseille: Agone, 2020).
[23]
For a discussion of the issues surrounding the Simbikangwa trial, see: Sandrine Lefranc, “Des ‘procès rwandais’ à Paris. Échos locaux d’une justice globale,” Droit et société 102 (2019): 299–318.
[24]
As François Robinet highlights, France is triply concerned by the genocide against the Tutis: “In the sense that the choices made by the French state and some of its officials influenced the fate of the Rwandans; in the sense that some of the killers live on our territory, in close proximity to us; and in the sense that ultimately, some of the descendants and inheritors of this Rwandan history live in France today.” Robinet, “Le rôle de la France au Rwanda: Les journalistes français au cœur d’une nouvelle guerre de mémoire (1994–2015),” 225. Over and above the case of France, which is the subject of this issue, it would be interesting to study the evolution of the controversy on France’s involvement in Rwanda itself, in the Great Lakes Region, and in other parts of Africa, as well as in Belgium and Canada.
[25]
See the piece by Thomas Borrel within this issue.
[26]
See, in particular, the parliamentary fact-finding mission (Quilès, Brana and Cazeneuve, Rapport d’information, déposé en application de l'article 145 du Réglement, par la mission d’information de la Commission de la défense nationale et des forces armées et de la Commission des affaires étrangères, sur les opérations militaires menées par la France, d’autre pays et l’ONU au Rwanda entre 1990 et 1994, 1998) and most importantly the Duclert report (Duclert, La France, le Rwanda et le génocide des Tutsi (1990–1994): Rapport remis au président de la République le 26 mars 2021, 2021).
[27]
Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux,” 126.
[28]
See, for example: “Pour une commission d’enquête parlementaire sur le rôle de la France entre 1990 et 1994. Au Rwanda, quelle France?” Libération, March 3, 1998, https://www.liberation.fr/tribune/1998/03/03/pour-une-commission-d-enquete-parlementaire-sur-le-role-de-la-france-entre-1990-et-1994-au-rwanda-qu_232018/.
[29]
Quilès, Brana, and Cazeneuve, Rapport d’information, déposé en application de l’article 145 du Réglement, par la mission d’information de la Commission de la défense nationale et des forces armées et de la Commission des affaires étrangères, sur les opérations militaires menées par la France, d'autre pays et l’ONU au Rwanda entre 1990 et 1994, 1998, “Conclusions,” 355–67. Institutional lessons seem to have been learned, however. The abolishment of the Ministry of Cooperation as well as the doctrine of “neither indifference nor intervention” under the Jospin government also highlight that critical review of engagement in Rwanda. See: Julien Meimon, “Que reste-t-il de la Coopération française?” Politique africaine 105 (2007): 34.
[30]
See the article by Thomas Borrel in this issue. An aspect of the 1998 milestone that has received less attention is that the relative unanimity prevailing in the French Africanist academic community in relation to the genocide against the Tutsis in 1994 crumbles when this evaluation of French responsibility takes place. Reactions to the conclusions of the MIP reveal these divisions among researchers, which also exist within the French Socialist Party.
[31]
In addition to killing the Rwandan President and three French members of the cabin crew, the attack also took the life of the President of Burundi, Cyprien Ntaryamira, as well as several other ministers and members of both presidents’ entourage.
[32]
Patrick de Saint-Exupéry, L’inavouable. La France au Rwanda (Paris: Les arènes, 2004).
[33]
This argument shall be repeated in Gabriel Périès and David Servenay, Une guerre noire. Enquête sur les origines du génocide rwandais (1959–1994) (Paris: La Découverte, 2007).
[34]
Verschave and Coret, eds., L’horreur qui nous prend au visage. L’État français et le génocide au Rwanda. Rapport de la Commission d’enquête citoyenne, 2005.
[35]
On these initiatives, see the article by Thomas Borrel in this issue.
[36]
Claudine Vidal also published an article with very critical passages about the CEC: “Du soupçon civique à l’enquête citoyenne: Controverses sur la politique de la France au Rwanda de 1990 à 1994,” 73–74.
[37]
Ibuka had been established in Belgium in 1994 and later set up branches in Switzerland and Rwanda in 1995. See: Ibuka, https://www.ibuka-france.org/.
[38]
See, for example: Tuez-les tous, Raphaël Glucksmann, David Hazan, and Pierre Mézerette (2004, broadcast by France 3 in November 2004); Opération Turquoise, Alain Tasma (2007); Retour à Kigali. Une affaire française, Jean-Christophe Klotz (broadcast by France 2 on April 25, 2019); and more recently, Rwanda: Le silence des mots, Gaël Faye and Michael Sztanke (broadcast by Arte in April 2022).
[39]
A book by the ex-UNAMIR (United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda) commander, Roméo Dallaire, was published in 2003, and its French translation was published right at the end of that year: Roméo Dallaire, Shake Hands with the Devil. The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda (Toronto: Random House Canada, 2003). The book takes a harsh view of France’s involvement, and the Canadian general will go on to be regularly criticized by some French soldiers. See also: Andrew Wallis, Silent Accomplice: The Untold Story of France’s Role in the Rwandan Genocide (London: I.B. Tauris, 2006); Linda Melvern, A People Betrayed: The Role of the West in Rwanda’s Genocide (New York and London: Zed Books, 2000).
[40]
Stephen Smith, “Révélations sur l’attentat qui a déclenché le génocide rwandais,” Le Monde, March 10, 2004; Stephen Smith, “Le récit de l’attentat du 6 avril 1994 par un ancien membre du ‘network commando,’” Le Monde, March 9, 2004. On the timing of these revelations, see Jean-Pierre Chrétien, “Dix ans après le génocide des Tutsis au Rwanda. Un malaise français?” Le temps des médias 5 (2005): 71.
[41]
Abdul Ruzibiza, Rwanda. L’histoire secrète (Paris: Éditions du Panama, 2005).
[42]
Pierre Péan, Noires fureurs, blancs menteurs. Rwanda 1990–1994 (Paris: Fayard, 2005).
[43]
Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux,” 121. The book also wades into the controversy by fiercely attacking Survie and the historian Jean-Pierre Chrétien, among others.
[44]
On these accounts, see: Étienne Smith: “Les derniers défenseurs de l’empire: Quand l’armée française raconte ses Rwanda,” Les temps modernes 680–81 (2014): 66–100; Robinet, “Le rôle de la France au Rwanda: L’histoire piégée?” 890.
[45]
At the same time, the argument claiming extremist Hutu responsibility is strongly contested among those defending France’s involvement, despite it not necessarily implicating France. In this respect, the two “sides” of the controversy hold positions that are not exactly symmetrical. For those criticizing France’s involvement, the RPF having responsibility in relation to the attack would change nothing in terms of the grievances against French support for Hutu extremists, as the attack is not considered to be the main factor in the process leading to the genocide. Validation of the “Hutu extremists” hypothesis would, however, be seen as confirmation of the extremists’ agenda for those who consider the planning of the genocide and the killing of Habyarimana to go hand in hand.
[46]
The fixation of the controversy upon the attack also largely explains the unease among researchers. Indeed, unlike the genocide—a topic that researchers have been able to make decisive contributions on—the attack and the ensuing legal proceedings fall outside their jurisdiction and are covered by sources that are inaccessible to the research world.
[47]
An expression used by Claudine Vidal: “Political theorists voicing criticism found quite a few adversaries, but the latter either excessively defended French policy in Rwanda or discovered conspiracies hatched by foreign powers. In short, the accusers and defenders developed a mindset of deeply entrenched camps.” Claudine Vidal, preface, Olivier Lanotte, La France au Rwanda (1990–1994). Entre abstention impossible et engagement ambivalent (Brussels: P.I.E. Peter Lang, 2007).
[48]
Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux,” 133.
[49]
Or, as encapsulated by Jean-Pierre Chrétien, the mad choice between “genocide made in France” and “genocide made in USA.” Ibid, 137.
[50]
Pierre Péan will be cleared. Among his supporters (limiting ourselves to the main French or Belgian actors) are: academic Filip Reyntjens; politicians Bernard Debré and Hubert Védrine; soldiers Jean-Claude Lafourcade, Michel Robardey, and Marin Gillier; and journalists Christophe Nick, Charles Onana, and Stephen Smith. Those supporting SOS Racisme and Ibuka are: Christiane Taubira, Raphaël Glucksman, Yves Ternon, Esther Mujawayo, and Marcel Kabanda.
[51]
Stephen Smith left Le Monde at the beginning of 2005, leading to a significant change in the newspaper’s coverage of Rwanda.
[52]
High Court of Paris, Office of Jean-Louis Bruguière, “Délivrance de mandats d’arrêts internationaux. Ordonnance de soit-communiqué” (International arrest warrants, November 17, 2006, 1–64). On discussions surrounding the issuance of arrest warrants, see: Philippe Bernard, “France-Rwanda: L’enquête Bruguière était suivie de près à l’Élysée,” Le Monde, December 10, 2010.
[53]
On this episode, see the account written by the French Ambassador Dominique Decherf: Couleurs. Mémoires d’un ambassadeur de France en Afrique (Paris: Pascal Galodé éditions, 2012), 243–48.
[54]
Among its members were the Franco-Rwandan EHESS historian José Kagabo and the Rwandan historian Jean-Paul Kimonyo, the author of Rwanda’s Popular Genocide. A Perfect Storm (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2016).
[55]
The “Investigation into the Causes and Circumstances of and Responsibility for the Attack of 06/04/1994 Against the Falcon 50 Rwandan Presidental Aeroplane Registration Number 9XR-NN,” also known as the Mutsinzi commission. It comprised British experts and a committee of ballistics experts. It presented its conclusions—that responsibility fell on Hutu extremists, in particular, Théoneste Bagosora and Anatole Nsengiyumva—in 2010.
[56]
Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux,” 136.
[57]
Pierre Péan, Le monde selon K. (Paris: Fayard, 2009).
[58]
“Paris rappelle son ambassadeur au Rwanda dans un contexte tendu,” Libération, February 20, 2012; François Soudan, “Rwanda: Ça coince toujours au sujet du nouvel ambassadeur de France à Kigali,” Jeune Afrique, February 20, 2012.
[59]
Christophe Boisbouvier, Hollande l’Africain (Paris: La Découverte, 2015).
[60]
Meanwhile, Hélène Le Gal became President Hollande’s Africa Advisor.
[61]
“Rwanda: L’ambassadeur de France persona non grata aux cérémonies des 20 ans du génocide,” Le Point Afrique, April 7, 2014; “Rwanda: La France n’a plus d’ambassadeur à Kigali,” RFI, October 1, 2015.
[62]
“L’Élysée déclassifie ses archives sur le Rwanda,” Libération, April 8, 2015. Access would, however, remain limited (eighty documents in total). See: François Robinet, “L’archive retrouvée. Enquêter sur le rôle de la France au Rwanda,” Revue d’histoire moderne et contemporaine 69, no. 1 (2022): 50.
[63]
On Paul Barril’s activities in relation to Rwanda, see, for example: Jean-Pierre Perrin, “Barril, ‘l’affreux,’” Revue XXI, April-May-June (2020): 52–61.
[64]
Christophe Ayad, “La BNP visée par une plainte pour complicité de génocide au Rwanda,” Le Monde, June 29, 2017.
[65]
Two texts deconstructing the Bruguière investigation, one in France and the other in Belgium, appeared during this period: Dupaquier, Politiques, militaires et mercenaires français au Rwanda. Chronique d’une désinformation; Philippe Brewaeys, Rwanda 1994. Noirs et Blancs menteurs (Brussels: Racine, 2013). One of the first accounts by a military figure proposing a different reading of Operation Turquoise also appeared. See: Guillaume Ancel,
Vents sombres sur le lac Kivu (The Book Editions, 2014) (revised and published as Rwanda, la fin du silence. Témoignage d’un officier français [Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2018]).
[66]
Especially the books by Canadian journalist Judi Rever, In Praise of Blood (New York: Random House, 2018) and Bernard Lugan, Rwanda. Un génocide en questions (Monaco: Éditions du Rocher, 2014).
[67]
For a critique calling out a “political smear” and the trivialization of the genocide by Reyntjens, see: Aurélia Kalisky et al., “Rwanda: Le ‘Que sais-je ?’ qui fait basculer l’Histoire,” Le Monde, September 25, 2017. For a defense of Reyntjens by Claudine Vidal and Marc Le Pape, who make the accusation of an attempt at intimidation, see: Marc Le Pape and Claudine Vidal, “Réponse à un procès sans instruction contre le ‘Que sais je ?’ de Filip Reyntjens” Blog Mediapart, September 30, 2017, https://blogs.mediapart.fr/fatimad/blog/300917/reponse-un-proces-sans-instruction-contre-le-que-sais-je-de-filip-reyntjens, accessed September 15, 2022; Marc Le Pape, “Génocide des Tutsi: ‘La mise en cause de l’historien Filip Reyntjens est une tentative d’intimidation,’”Le Monde, October 20, 2017. Despite this head-on confrontation, it should be remembered that neither bloc is a monolith and that conflict can arise over individual strategies as well as disciplinary or methodological disagreements regardless of political sensitivities. In the first “camp,” while Claudine Vidal and Filip Reyntjens, for example, are united in their criticism of the RPF’s political strategy, they nevertheless differ in their characterization of the violence committed and the books claiming to assess it, as well as in their assessment of the Habyarimana regime. In the other “camp,” legal expert Rafaëlle Maison was able to criticize historians examining the genocide against the Tutsis, such as Hélène Dumas and Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau, for their supposed reluctance to examine the role of France or for their historiographical choice to emphasize the “local” dimension of the genocide, rather than, according to her, the geopolitical and state rationale (and therefore, France’s possible involvement). See Rafaëlle Maison, “Quand les historiens s’éveilleront. La France et le génocide des Tutsi du Rwanda,” La vie des idées, September 11, 2015, accessed May 13, 2022, https://laviedesidees.fr/Quand-les-historiens-s-eveilleront.html.
[68]
Instead of the Masaka hillside being the presumed location of the missile fire under investigation by Judge Bruguière, the investigation now pointed to the edge of the Kanombe military camp. Extrapolations were then made by actors of the controversy as to the identity of the shooters according to the location selected for firing missiles from.
[69]
We note that in 2014, Vincent Duclert contributed to an opinion piece by a group of researchers (“Rwanda, cette histoire qu’on ne veut pas voir,” Libération, July 27, 2014) calling on the French authorities to take a clear position on the issue of France’s involvement in Rwanda, as well as contributing to the aforementioned opinion piece contesting the introductory guide on the genocide against the Tutsis written by Filip Reyntjens.
[70]
Benjamin Stora, “Les questions mémorielles portant sur la colonisation et la guerre d’Algérie,” Government report (Paris: Presidency of France, 2021).
[71]
In the same vein, in July 2022, President Macron announced the opening up of archives and a historical commission to shed light on the war against the UPC (Union of the Peoples of Cameroon) in Cameroon (1955–1971). See: Philippe Ricard, “Emmanuel Macron ouvre un nouveau chantier mémoriel au Cameroun,” Le Monde, July 27, 2022.
[72]
Piotr Smolar, “Pour le général Jean Varret, le rapport Duclert sur le Rwanda permet de ‘sortir de vingt-six ans de débats stériles,’” Le Monde, March 29, 2021; Patrice Sartre, “Général Patrice Sartre sur le Rwanda: ‘Le rapport Duclert rend justice aux soldats de l’opération Turquoise,’” Le Monde, March 30, 2021; “René Galinié: J’ai dit: ‘Attention on va au massacre!’” AFP, March 31, 2021.
[73]
See President Macron’s speech at the Kigali Genocide Memorial in Gisozi: “Discours du Président Emmanuel Macron depuis le Mémorial du génocide perpétré contre les Tutsis en 1994,” May 27, 2021, accessed October 9, 2022, https://www.elysee.fr/emmanuel-macron/2021/05/27/discours-du-president-emmanuel-macron-depuis-le-memorial-du-genocide-perpetre-contre-les-tutsis-en-1994.
[74]
Unlike the Duclert report, the Muse report uses interviews (250) and a variety of written sources in addition to French archives and addresses the period after 1994 in relation to actions in France that influenced perceptions of the genocide. Levy Firestone Muse LLP, “A Forseeable Genocide: The Role of the French Government in Connection with the Genocide of the Tutsi in Rwanda,” April 19, 2021, accessed October 8, 2022, https://www.gov.rw/musereport.
[75]
We note that in this context of warming diplomatic relations, the Rwandan government preferred to draw on the Muse report rather than the 2008 Mucyo report, which was far more hostile as it was commissioned in response to the arrest warrants issued by Judge Bruguière. The Muse report nevertheless uses some elements sourced from the Mucyo report.
[76]
Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux,” 132.
[77]
Among politicians, while Alain Juppé hailed the Duclert report and called for recognition of the mistakes made (Alain Juppé, “Alain Juppé sur le Rwanda: ‘Nous n’avons pas compris qu’un génocide ne pouvait supporter des demi-mesures,’” Le Monde, April 7, 2021), Hubert Védrine, after initially more or less welcoming the report, later sharply criticized its conclusions in several interviews. Institut François Mitterrand, directed by Hubert Védrine, also echoed exclusively critical texts about the Duclert report (See: https://www.mitterrand.org).
[78]
See, for example: Jean-Baptiste Naudet, “Général Christian Quesnot, ex-chef d’état-major de Mitterrand: ‘Le rapport sur le Rwanda est partiel et partial,’” L’Obs, May 16, 2021. Alternatively, see the texts by Bernard Lugan and Jacques Hogard shared by Association France Turquoise on its website. For a confrontation between General Quesnot and General Varret, see Jean-Baptiste Naudet, “Rwanda: Le baroud d’honneur des généraux français,” L’Obs, July 25, 2021.
[79]
See the piece by Thomas Borrel in this issue.
[80]
Judging by the reception of the Duclert report, divisions within academia have not substantially evolved. We again find Filip Reyntjens, Claudine Vidal, Marc Le Pape, André Guichaoua, and Serge Dupuis among those criticizing the RPF, who had supposedly been so overlooked by the Duclert report, and recognizing the report’s contributions to varying degrees when bringing nuance to or rejecting accusations against France. See: Serge Dupuis et al., “Réflexions sur le rapport Duclert,” Fondation Jean Jaurès, 2022, accessed October 19, 2022, https://www.jean-jaures.org/publication/reflexions-sur-le-rapport-duclert/; Serge Dupuis, “Ce que dit et ne dit pas le rapport Duclert,” Fondation Jean Jaurès, February 24, 2022, accessed October 19, 2022, https://www.jean-jaures.org/publication/ce-que-dit-et-ne-dit-pas-le-rapport-duclert/. On the other hand, François Robinet and Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau accept elements of the report that confirm some of the hypotheses of earlier works and that discuss the remaining grey areas. François Robinet, “Rwanda 1994: Un rapport pour l’Histoire?” Études 7–8 (2021): 7–18; Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau, “Commission de recherche sur les archives françaises relatives au Rwanda et au génocide des Tutsi,” Revue d’histoire de la Shoah 214 (2021): I-V. On the reception of the Duclert report within academia, see issues of Revue d’histoire contemporaine de l’Afrique (particularly the following special issue: Camille Evrard et al., “Au-delà du rapport Duclert. Décentrer l’histoire du génocide des Tutsi,” [2021]) and the journal Esprit (Antoine Garapon, Joël Hubrecht, and Emmanuel Laurentin, eds., “Leçons rwandaises,” 478 [2021]), as well as the article by Mathilde Beaufils in this issue.
[81]
The first session of the “International conference on the genocide against the Tutsis of Rwanda,” organized by a research team created by the Duclert commission, was held from September 11 to September 19, 2022, in Rwanda.
[82]
The first research team (Cesspra/EHESS) was headed by Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau and Hélène Dumas; the RwandaMAP2020 team (https://rwandamap.hypotheses.org/) was coordinated on the French side by François Robinet and Rémi Korman (and linked to the Centre d’histoire culturelle des sociétés contemporaines [Center for Cultural History of Contemporary Societies] at the University of Versailles Saint-Quentin-en-Yvelines). These research teams were not structured in the traditional “Africanist” departments.
[83]
Here, we only list the PhDs in social sciences completed in French in France, Belgium, or Canada, and based on fieldwork in Rwanda. Among these, we note two PhDs defended at Sciences Po Paris (Ceri), whose authors did not remain in academia: Pierre-Antoine Braud, L’ordre de la violence: Ordre politique, historicité des violences et gestion des conflits au Rwanda et au Burundi dans les années 1990 (Paris: Institut d’études politiques, 2005); Emmanuel Viret, Les habits de la foule: Techniques de gouvernement, clientèles sociales et violence au Rwanda rural (1963–1994) (Paris: Institut d’études politiques, 2011).
[84]
The intellectual heritage of Jean-Pierre Chrétien is central in this regard. See: Jean-Pierre Chrétien, Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau, and Hélène Dumas, “Un historien face au génocide des Tutsi,” Vingtième siècle 122 (2014): 23–35.
[85]
With the exception of Florent Piton, whose was submitted at Centre d’études en sciences sociales sur les mondes africains, américains et asiatiques (Cessma) (The Center for Social Science Studies of the African, American and Asian World) and was supervised by Africanists and whose institutional inclusion uses classic Africanist channels (Association des chercheurs de Politique africaine, revue RHCA, etc.) among others. He also wrote the reference book, Le génocide des Tutsi du Rwanda (Paris: La Découverte, 2018).
[86]
Claudine Vidal and Marc Le Pape, eds., “Les politiques de la haine: Rwanda-Burundi, 1994–1995,” Les temps modernes 583 (1995); Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau and Antoine Garapon, eds., “France-Rwanda: Et maintenant?” Esprit 364 (2010); José Kagabo, eds., “Le génocide des Tutsi, 1994–2014. Quelle histoire? Quelle mémoire?” Les temps modernes 680–81 (2014); Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau and Hélène Dumas, eds., “Le génocide des Tutsi rwandais, vingt ans après,” Vingtième siècle 122 (2014); Garapon et al. eds., “Leçons rwandaises.” In the case of Politique africaine, see the textbox below.
[87]
See the joint editorial from both journals in 2021 announcing this initiative: “Éditorial: Collaboration trans-revues RHCA et Sources sur l’histoire du génocide des Tutsi du Rwanda,” accessed October 2, 2022, https://oap.unige.ch/journals/rhca/announcement/view/15; Camille Evrard et al., eds., “Au-delà du rapport Duclert. Décentrer l’histoire du génocide des Tutsi”; Paul Rutayisire et al. “Écrire l’histoire du génocide des Tutsi au Rwanda à partir de sources locales. Entretien avec Paul Rutayisire, Charles Kabwete Mulinda et Philibert Gakwenzire,” Sources 3 (2021): 257–81.
[88]
Benjamin Chemouni, ed., “Rwanda. L’État depuis le génocide,” Politique africaine 160 (2020).
[89]
This question ultimately arises in the study of all French military intervention in Africa, when Parisian bureaucratic struggles prove to be more decisive than the local context in which the intervention takes place. For a more recent collective investigation of French intervention in Mali, see: Grégory Daho, Florent Pouponneau, and Johanna Siméant-Germanos, eds., Entrer en guerre au Mali. Luttes politiques et bureaucratiques autour de l’intervention française (Paris: Rue d’Ulm, 2022).
[90]
Here we are referring to the controversy caused by the noninclusion of Hélène Dumas and Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau and not the subsequent controversy, which was of a different nature, relating to the presence of Julie d’Andurain. On these events, see the article by Mathilde Beaufils in this issue.
[91]
See the article by Thomas Borrel in this issue.
[92]
Martin Mourre, Florent Piton, Nathaniel Powell, and Romain Tiquet, eds., “Enquêter sur la France au Rwanda en contexte militant. Entretien avec François Graner,” Revue d’histoire contemporaine de l’Afrique (2021): 102–117.
[93]
The activist world itself is anything but monolithic. Disagreements and debates, which are occasionally heated, have existed (the 2004 CEC itself attests to this) and continue to exist between the NGO Survie (which itself is sometimes divided) and the most hardline collectives (such as Izuba/La nuit rwandaise).
[94]
See the article by Thomas Borrel in this issue.
[95]
The one receiving the most media coverage was undeniably that of Félicien Kabuga, actively pursued by international justice, in May 2020 in the Paris region. On these proceedings, see the account prepared by the CPCR (https://www.collectifpartiescivilesrwanda.fr/tableau-des-plaintes-du-cpcr/) and the account by its president, Alain Gauthier, “Le témoignage au service de la justice. L’expérience du collectif des parties civiles pour le Rwanda en France,” Les temps modernes 680–81 (2014): 238–47.
[96]
Appeals are ongoing for the latter two trials.
[97]
The defense in these trials can, for example, take advantage of the controversy in France (which does not exist in other countries) to try to muddy the waters when it comes to the facts of the genocide.
[98]
Piotr Smolar, “En France, les avocats s’emparent du rapport Duclert sur le Rwanda,” Le Monde, April 23, 2021.
[99]
Gaïdz Minassian and Pierre Lepidi, “Vincent Duclert: ‘Le dossier rwandais a été contaminé par le mensonge, la manipulation et la passion,’” Le Monde, March 26, 2021.
[100]
Fabrice Arfi, “Génocide des Tutsis: Une juge cherche la clé d’une mission secrète dans les archives de l’Élysée,” Mediapart, September 3, 2022.
[101]
Ibuka was approached for their perspective for this issue, but it was not possible to hold the interview.
[102]
Patrice Sartre, “La décision politique dans les engagements militaires de la France,” Études 12 (2021): 17–28; Robinet, “Rwanda 1994: Un rapport pour l’Histoire?”: 17.
[103]
Alain Ricard, “Nécessité du travail de mémoire,” Politique africaine 55 (1994): 111–15.
[104]
Filip Reyntjens, “Cooptation politique à l’envers: Les législatives de 1988 au Rwanda,” Politique africaine, 34 (1989): 121–26; Filip Reyntjens, “Le gacaca ou la justice du gazon au Rwanda,” Politique africaine 40 (1990): 31–41.
[105]
Jean-Pierre Chrétien, “Le défi de l’intégrisme ethnique dans l’historiographie africaniste. Le cas du Rwanda et du Burundi,” Politique africaine 46 (1991): 71–83; Jean-Pierre Chrétien, “‘Presse libre’ et propagande raciste au Rwanda. Kangura et ‘les 10 commandements du Hutu,’” Politique africaine 42 (1991): 109–20.
[106]
Michel Elias and Danielle Helbig, “Deux mille collines pour les petits et les grands. Radioscopie des stéréotypes hutu et tutsi au Rwanda et au Burundi,” Politique africaine 42 (1991): 65–73; Danielle Helbig, “Rwanda: De la dictature populaire à la démocratie athénienne,” Politique africaine 44 (1991): 97–101.
[107]
Gérard Prunier, “Éléments pour une histoire du Front patriotique rwandais,” Politique africaine 51 (1993): 121–38.
[108]
Jean-Christophe Ferney [pseudonym], “La France au Rwanda: Raison du prince, déraison d’État,” Politique africaine 51 (1993): 170–75. The use of a pseudonym in this piece is itself illustrative of the sensitive nature of the subject since that time.
[109]
Chrétien, “Rwanda. La responsabilité de la France.”
[110]
Jean-Claude Willame, “Diplomatie internationale et génocide au Rwanda,” Politique africaine 55 (1994): 116–31. The article revisits the criticism made against Belgium, France, and the UN.
[111]
Jean-Pierre Pabanel, “Bilan de la deuxième République rwandaise: Du modèle de développement à la violence générale,” Politique africaine 57 (1995): 112–23, [dating from April 1994].
[112]
Gauthier de Villers, “L’‘africanisme’ belge face aux problèmes d’interprétation de la tragédie rwandaise,” Politique africaine 59 (1995): 121–32.
[113]
Bernault, “La communauté africaniste française au crible de la crise rwandaise,” 112.
[114]
Ibid., 112–13.
[115]
André Guichaoua, “La réaffirmation des pouvoirs d’État dans la région des Grands Lacs,” Politique africaine, 68 (1997): 40–50.
[116]
Jean-Hervé Bradol and Claudine Vidal, “Les attitudes humanitaires dans la région des Grands Lacs,” Politique africaine 68 (1997): 69–77.
[117]
Éric Gillet, “Les droits de l’homme et la justice pour fonder l’avenir,” Politique africaine 68 (1997): 61–68.
[118]
Luc Cambrézy, “Un aspect méconnu de la crise rwandaise, les réfugiés de Nairobi,” Politique africaine 68 (1997): 134–41.
[119]
Jean-Pierre Getti, “Un tribunal pour quoi faire? Le Tribunal pénal international pour le Rwanda (TPIR) et la poursuite des crimes contre l’humanité,” Politique africaine 68 (1997): 51–60; Marc-Antoine Pérouse de Montclos, “Les séquelles d’un génocide: Quelle justice pour les Rwandais?” Politique africaine 69 (1998): 109–18.
[120]
“Questions aux membres de la ‘Mission d’information sur les opérations militaires menées par la France, d’autres pays et l’ONU au Rwanda entre 1990 et 1994,’” Politique africaine 72 (1998): 194–202. The signatories were ACF, Amnesty, Agir ici, CCFD, FIDH, LDH, MSF, OPCF, Survie, Jean-François Bayart, Rony Brauman, André Guichaoua, Elikia M’Bokolo, Yves Ternon, and Claudine Vidal.
[121]
“Rwanda. Réflexions sur les rapports parlementaires de la Belgique et de la France,” Politique africaine 73 (1999): 159–76 (with contributions from Jean-Pierre Chrétien, Jean-Claude Willame, and Marc Le Pape).
[122]
Jean-Pierre Chrétien and Eugénie Gatari, “Le TPIR en question: Deux témoignages,” Politique africaine 87 (2002): 185–91; Danielle de Lame, “Deuil, commémoration, justice dans les contextes rwandais et belge. Otages existentiels et enjeux politiques,” Politique africaine 92 (2003): 39–55.
[123]
Bernard Leloup, “Tentatives croisées de déstabilisation dans l’Afrique des Grands Lacs. Le contentieux rwando-ougandais,” Politique africaine 96 (2004): 119–38.
[124]
“Il y a dix ans, le génocide au Rwanda,” Politique africaine 93 (2004): 4.
[125]
See especially: “Autour d’un livre. Vansina (Jan), Le Rwanda ancien. Le Royaume nyiginya, Paris, Karthala, 2001, 289 pages,” Politique africaine 83 (2001) 151–60 (with contributions from David Newbury, Jean-Pierre Chrétien, and Danielle de Lame; “Autour d’un livre. Jacques Sémelin, Purifier et détruire. Usages politiques des massacres et génocides, Paris, Le Seuil, coll. ‘La couleur des idées,’ 2005, 485 pages,” Politique africaine 101 (2006): 195–208 (with a contribution from Pierre-Antoine Braud, Élisabeth Claverie, and Scott Straus); Jean-Pierre Chrétien and Marcel Kabanda, “Chronique bibliographique. Débats sur le Rwanda quinze ans après,” Politique africaine 115 (2009): 211–20.
[126]
Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux.”
[127]
Thomas Riot, “Les politiques de ‘loisir’ et le génocide des Tutsi rwandais. Du racisme culturel aux donjons de la mémoire (1957–2013),” Politique africaine 133 (2014): 131–51; Thomas Riot, Nicolas Bancel, and Paul Rutayisire, “Un art guerrier aux frontières des Grands Lacs. Aux racines dansées du Front patriotique rwandais,” Politique africaine 147 (2017): 109–34.
[128]
Molly Sundberg, “Par le corps et pour l’État: L’itorero et les techniques réflexives du corps au Rwanda,” Politique africaine 147 (2017): 23–43.
[129]
Benjamin Chemouni, ed., “Rwanda. L’État depuis le génocide.”

Versión en español

1 “Rwanda: A French passion.” This is the title that two journalists [1] from Le Monde, Christophe Ayad and Philippe Bernard, used in 2012 to describe the controversy within media, academic, legal, and activist spheres around France’s involvement in Rwanda between 1990 and 1994:

It is one of the murky periods of recent French history, one of those unhealed wounds that feeds ideological warfare and provokes anathema. One of those French passions that regularly flares up among intellectuals, politicians, and activists. It all boils down to one simple yet awful question: Was France partly responsible for the Rwandan genocide that led to 800,000 deaths in one month?
Almost eighteen years later, this question remains subject to fierce controversy, which says at least as much about France’s internal political rifts as it does about the 1994 genocide itself.
What other recent event elicits such entrenched positions, such personal hatred, or such verbal furor? Neither Bosnia, nor Kosovo. We would probably need to go back to the Algerian War, or, to a lesser degree, look at the question of Palestine to find such serious accusations or such a chasm between two camps, which could be caricatured as “Anti-France” versus “Eternal France.” [2]

3 When it comes to sub-Saharan Africa, neither French interventions in Chad and Central Africa from the 1970s to the present day, nor the crisis in Côte d’Ivoire (1999–2011), nor even France’s involvement in Mali have provoked such a war of memories or such extreme polarization of French public discourse. The Rwandan case is therefore somewhat unique, and this is undoubtedly more a result of the historical significance of the genocide than the degree of France’s involvement between 1990 and 1994 itself. This “small” country, which hardly featured on the French imagination’s mental map of Africa before the 1990s, made a booming and tragic entrance in 1994. Since then, it has remained the leading controversy surrounding Françafrique—namely, France’s influence over former colonies in Africa.

4 In fact, compared to the other aforementioned interventions, scrutiny of France’s involvement in Rwanda has been rather intense in the French public sphere, including: a parliamentary fact-finding mission [3] (the 1998 Mission d’information parlementaire [MIP]), a civil society-led investigation [4] (2004), an Élysée-mandated historical commission [5] (known as the Duclert commission, 2019), dozens of publications, hundreds of articles in the press, thousands of scrutinized archival documents, the severing of diplomatic relations, and some fifty legal proceedings in France. Together, these events and statements themselves constitute a controversial scenario or a field that is ripe for exploration by historians and sociologists. [6] The initial question about France’s involvement in Rwanda has, over the years, effectively turned into a question about the extent and intensity of controversy that has developed around the original discussion. How has it become so significant? So polarized? So drawn out and capable of churning out new actors and matters of contention? All these questions call us to dwell on the evolution and enabling factors as well as on the content of this enduring controversy.

5 “I have never seen a more sensitive case than that of Rwanda,” were the words of journalist Pierre Péan, one of the major actors in the media controversy since 2005. [7] The same observation has been made by academics specializing in the subject, although the question of who is responsible for the intensity of the debate is itself subject to controversy. Claudine Vidal, for example, holds activists who are critical of France’s involvement and their “enthusiasm for making accusations” [8] primarily responsible, whereas Jean-Pierre Chrétien pins the responsibility on those defending France who will grasp at straws in their attempts to clear it of responsibility. [9] Questioning France’s role is therefore a minefield in France and this has led to hesitation among some within academia. This backdrop of controversy has indeed had an impact on academic writing about the history of France’s involvement as François Robinet points out, speaking of “history hijacked” by political interference, a strong rhetoric of denial, and difficulties in accessing archives. [10] “History hijacked” and consequently also “history abandoned.” [11] Early on, texts by Jean-Pierre Chrétien, Gérard Prunier, Claudine Vidal, Marc Le Pape, and Jean-François Bayart certainly addressed the issue, marking the first time it was examined in the immediate aftermath of the genocide and at the time of the 1998 MIP. [12] Later, other researchers, such as David Ambrosetti in France and Olivier Lanotte in Belgium, made contributions to the subject, but have since worked on other topics. [13] In the 2000s, not a single French researcher made it their main subject of research. [14] It was not until the emergence of new actors outside the field of “Africanist” [15] studies, such as Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau as of 2009 and François Robinet as of 2014, that this topic regained its place in French academia. [16] But there is no collective approach to research on this issue. Does this indicate a kind of unease? Is it so complicated for academics in France to write about France’s involvement in Rwanda?

6 Leaving aside the specific issue of France’s involvement, as early as 1997, Florence Bernault made the observation that the Africanist academic community was “carefully withdrawing” and by that point tended to avoid making public statements on a crisis “judged to be too complicated, too slippery, and too politicized.” [17] In a way, the relative silence of academia on France’s involvement has contributed to the liveliness of the media controversy, given the lack of broadly accepted academic knowledge on the issue. But this point overlooks the internal rifts in academia itself, which are growing thanks to the polarization at work in other domains (such as the media and civil society) while sometimes indirectly contributing to this polarization due to the wide-ranging stances of some academic actors. Those specializing on Rwanda had in fact initially formed a specialized field that was limited in scope and (clearly, as a result) strongly polarized. This was compounded by the disregard shown by non-specialists (itself growing and leading to increased internal polarization of the specialized field and discouraging “new starts” from entering the field.) [18]

7 It is in this context of persistent polarization that the Duclert commission was established in 2019 at President Macron’s request to reexamine France’s involvement in Rwanda between 1990 and 1994 on the basis of French administrative archives. With the Duclert commission marking a milestone in this enduring controversy—even aiming to try to resolve it, or at least bring peace to it—it was necessary for Politique africaine to compile an issue to examine the various facets of the France-Rwanda dispute, understood here as both the internal controversy within France and the France-Rwanda relationship. This issue has been prepared with the intention of showing and reflecting on various possible perspectives on France’s relationship with Rwanda, such that it may benefit the social sciences. It brings together texts of varying natures, demonstrating the journal’s desire to participate in documenting the various possible stances on that relationship. Rather than offering definitive answers to a controversial question, it aims more modestly to take this dispute as an object of knowledge, i.e., a matter of interrogation.

8 The Duclert commission is itself at the heart of this issue, which begins with an interview with its chair, Vincent Duclert, who discusses the commission’s methods, contributions, and conclusions, some of the challenges it encountered, its possible ramifications, and the links between history and memory as well as justice and truth that underpin all commissions of this kind. In this interview, Vincent Duclert defends a concept of historical practice having its own effects, in other words, the idea that establishing historical facts (“historical truth”) can “repair” the relationship between states in line with a model of “new relational ethics.” [19] The article by Mathilde Beaufils revisits the creation of this commission, its composition, and its strategies of legitimization in an already controversial field from which it explicitly aimed to extricate itself and which it sought to transcend. The author demonstrates how the way the announcement of the commission was received reflected perspectives in academia and how the choices made as to the commission’s composition may have affected historical interpretation. As a sociologist who is aware of the effects of domination in the field and the “blows” that have marked the history of the commission, she examines both the divisions among and the alignment between actors and networks that are equipped with contrasting academic, symbolic, or institutional capital and that are at the intersection of “general” and “specialized” knowledge.

9 Relationships between Africanist knowledge and French foreign policy form another area of study that we wished to explore given that the topic appears in the Duclert report, which highlights the extent of knowledge and analysis that the French State had access to that could have oriented French policy differently but was actively marginalized by hardliners. Is this sense of powerlessness among French Africanists in relation to Rwanda and other conflicts, which Florence Bernault called typically French, [20] really exclusive to Africanists, or rather, does it reveal deeper political and social trends toward the devaluation of scientific expertise? Do not researchers themselves have a tendency to shy away from this type of exercise? All these questions are dealt with in the interview with Jean-François Bayart, who gives a personal account, as a member of the Centre d’analyse et de prévision (CAP) (Analysis and Forecasting Center) within the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and discusses the general evolution of relationships between French researchers, diplomats, politicians, and military figures in the 1980s. The observation he makes is devoid of illusion: researchers are commissioned by government not so much to contribute intellectual thinking, but rather to attest to the fact that expertise exists but is “caught in a force field that renders it inaudible.” With Rwanda, as with other crises, researchers hold little weight in comparison to diplomats, the national interest, the military lobby, and the media.

10 Until the establishment of the Duclert commission, the gap relating to France’s involvement had, since the 1998 MIP’s report, been filled by journalists and activist associations who built a library, uploaded archives online, [21] made documents public, used materials emanating from legal proceedings, built knowledge, and formulated questions, staying one step ahead of the research. In a sense, the actors waded through a field deserted by researchers, but using their own methods, priorities, and agendas. [22] In order to take stock of two decades of mobilizations and agenda-setting in France, Thomas Borrel, member and spokesperson of the NGO Survie was approached for his perspective on the issue—namely, a perspective in France—of France’s involvement in the genocide of the Tutsis. The timeline allows us to trace back the intermingling between researchers and civil society with which these mobilizations have been peppered, in sharp contrast to the image of them being two separate worlds. Furthermore, it also enables us to highlight persistent divergences relating to the burden of proof or the recourse to legal proceedings, for example.

11 Finally, France’s relationship with Rwanda can be analyzed through the lens of the French legal scene, which is particularly dense when it comes to this issue, more so than for any other external conflict in the last fifty years. The article by Timothée Brunet-Lefèvre takes a very peculiar and still much understudied legal scene [23] as an ethnographic setting: that of the génocidaires trials at the Assize Courts. He highlights how complicated it was for the French Assize Courts, which were so detached temporally, spatially, culturally, and linguistically from the scene of the crime, to understand the world of the genocide, by which we mean its local dimensions in the locality of Kabarondo. While in theory, they were sheltered from the France-Rwanda dispute, these trials do not entirely escape the ups and downs of France-Rwanda relations; constituting the other side of the French legal scene dedicated to Rwanda are: the legal cooperation between the two countries, which depends on the nature of diplomatic relations; the slowness or speed of proceedings undertaken in France, which depends on the involvement of political leadership; and the witnesses and expert witnesses for the prosecution or defense who find themselves facing each other in other proceedings—internal French proceedings in this case.

12 This leads us to examine the intertwined nature of the dispute within France and France-Rwanda relations. Of course, controversy around France’s involvement doesn’t just exist in France, [24] but there is no exaggeration in stating that the intensity of the debates is largely due to the centrality of the disagreements within France. This French dispute has significant implications for the intergovernmental relations between France and Rwanda, for which it acts at times as a thermometer and at others as a thermostat. But the dispute also retains some autonomy from the intergovernmental relationship, contrary to the simplistic idea that would hold this controversy as a simple product of hostile foreign influence operations between Rwandan and French authorities. Resurgences of the debate during and after the Duclert commission seem to have confirmed that the element of the debate unfolding internally within France remains the most complex to resolve and is in fact more complicated than the bilateral diplomatic relationship with which it should not be confused. The purpose of this introduction is not to reproduce an exhaustive history of this controversy and of France-Rwanda relations but to retrace key moments in time in the evolution of them since 1994 until the creation of the Duclert commission in order to better understand the stakes that are revealed once we start to think about such a conflictual scenario within politics, the media, academia, and diplomacy.

Thirty years of controversy in France

13 Since the beginning of French military involvement in October 1990, there have been disagreements over the significance and consequences of this involvement. In the public sphere, civil society organizations and experts voiced their criticisms, particularly in 1993 and then in the spring of 1994 during the genocide. [25] Behind closed doors, at the heart of the presidential, governmental, and administrative system, disagreements were also rampant, reflecting preexisting conflicts between ministries or between services that were exacerbated by the atmosphere of a coalition government and preparations for the 1995 presidential election, though little of this filtered out. All these bureaucratic competitions or fights for influence, which were at times very personal, are now well-documented for the period from 1990 to 1994. [26] The evolution of the public controversy after 1994 is more difficult to follow as it was influenced by events within the media, law, and diplomacy that were specific to certain timeframes yet were intertwined in terms of their causes and effects. We can nevertheless distinguish at least five periods at the heart of this enduring controversy that tie the concerns within France with diplomatic relations between France and Rwanda.

1994–1998: From denial to soul-searching

14 This initial period from 1994 to 1998 saw controversy take root in France over France’s involvement from 1990 to 1994 while the Great Lakes Region witnessing a marked withdrawal of the French military following the departure of the last troops assigned to Operation Turquoise at the end of summer 1994. There was almost no bilateral relationship with the new Rwandan regime whose failure France was eagerly counting on. Meanwhile, France’s room for maneuver was limited by its support for Mobutu’s unstable regime in Zaire, which was eventually wiped out by the rebellion of the Alliance of Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Congo (ADFLC), supported militarily by Uganda and Rwanda. [27] On the other hand, three years after “Year Zero” of the genocide, Rwanda had become a high-profile regional actor determined to concede nothing to France. The publication of a series of articles criticizing France’s involvement in Rwanda by Patrick de Saint-Exupéry in Le Figaro from 1998 onward, followed by the mobilization of civil society organizations and academics, [28] led to the establishment of the parliamentary commission (MIP) known as the “Quilès commission.” Its work took place in spring of the same year in the political context of a new coalition government while numerous French actors from the 1990–1994 period were still in post. The controversy unfolded simultaneously in public (with opinion pieces in the press and records from public hearings) and behind the scenes (with hearings held in private, particularly for military figures, and analyses and notes made within ministries). The publication of the MIP’s lengthy report did not bring the debate to a close; instead, it caused further confusion. For the government, this exercise in transparency ought to have put an end to the controversy, and the conclusions of the report, which highlighted “France’s errors of judgment,” namely “excessive levels of military cooperation,” “an underestimation of the authoritarian, ethnic, and racist nature of the Rwandan regime,” and “institutional dysfunction” ought to have been the last words on this subject. [29] However, for civil society organizations such as the NGO Survie, which launched into the interpretation of the report, its annexes, and its listed sources, to highlight how in-depth this work was, the conclusions appeared disappointing at best and political at worst. The NGO therefore attempted to explore the issue further, using this new material to unearth new topics for debate (arms deliveries, the role of mercenaries, etc.), albeit with little media impact. [30]

1998–2004: Media obscurity and parallel investigations

15 From 1998 to 2004, Rwanda was effectively no longer a subject of controversy within the media sphere. However, two “investigations” were quietly proceeding in parallel: while activist associations were engaged in building on the MIP’s work, a well-known judge working in counterterrorism affairs, Jean-Louis Bruguière, had, since March 1998, been investigating the shooting down of the plane carrying President Habyarimana on April 6, 1994, following the lawsuit filed with him by the families of the French pilots killed alongside the president. [31] His investigation had a special focus—and later an exclusive focus—on the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF)’s trail of responsibility, and was supported by a network of those loyal to the old regime under Habyarimana, the controversial figure Paul Barril, and RPF defectors. These investigations, which were hidden from the general public, would eventually become central to the controversy that intensified as of 2004. From that point on, media strategies would contribute to obscuring the differences between the two “investigations”: Bruguière’s legal investigation and its coverage in the press took an activist turn against the Rwandan government, while the activist-led investigation by French civil society organizations pursued legal proceedings against French officials.

2004–2007: The flare up and the breaking off of diplomatic relations

16 At the end of March 2004, almost ten years on from the genocide, Patrick de Saint-Exupéry was still making news, siding with those criticizing French involvement with the publication of L’inavouable. La France au Rwanda (Unspeakable. The French in Rwanda), [32] a book arguing that the French army treated Rwanda as a testing ground for the doctrine of “revolutionary war” and that the genocide against the Tutsis was an instance of this politico-military laboratory’s collateral damage. [33] At the same time, a group of civil society organizations, including Survie, established a civil society-led investigation (the Commission d’enquête citoyenne [CEC]) into France’s involvement in Rwanda with the explicit aim of building on the 1998 MIP’s work and assessing the knowledge acquired since 1998. The conclusions would lead to far tougher criticism of France’s involvement and constitute an activist milestone, with the announcement of further media-related mobilization to raise awareness of the topic outside the usual activist circles, despite rather limited media coverage of the CEC itself. [34] Most importantly, following the CEC, civil society organizations skewed the legal field by filing lawsuits against French officials. [35] Within academia, the CEC was received in very contrasting ways, reinforcing the different stances taken since the conclusions of the MIP in 1998: Jean-Pierre Chrétien and Gérard Prunier were invited to participate in Survie’s activities and were questioned by the CEC in 2004, while, on the other hand, André Guichaoua and Filip Reyntjens were summoned by the Bruguière investigation. [36] This period also saw the association Ibuka (meaning “Remember” in Kinyarwanda)—responsible for commemorating the victims of the genocide, supporting survivors, and pursuing justice against the perpetrators of the crimes—become more established in France following the creation of its French branch in 2002 and the commemoration of the tenth anniversary of the genocide in 2004. [37] The topic of France’s involvement also began to be spread in new ways, in the form of documentaries [38] and publications written outside France. [39]

17 Faced with this renewed critique of France’s involvement in Rwanda, radically opposed initiatives emerged as of March 2004 among those defending France’s involvement, which centered on the issue of responsibility for the April 6, 1994 attack on the plane carrying President Habyarimana. Rather than simply defending France’s involvement, as had been done in MIP hearings, for example, the initiatives now revolved around condemning the role of the RPF, which emerged as a sort of deus ex machina for the range of events that had occurred in Rwanda, and in particular the attack, which was presented as the key explanatory factor for all of the events. On March 10, 2004, two weeks prior to the start of the CEC and the publication of Saint-Exupéry’s book, and while the Rwandan president Paul Kagame was undertaking a diplomatic visit to Belgium, journalist Stephen Smith revealed an extract of the conclusions of Judge Bruguière’s investigation in Le Monde, which incriminated the RPF and its leader Paul Kagame himself. [40]

18 In fall 2005, two publications upholding this argument appeared one after the other. Rwanda, l’histoire secrète (Rwanda: The secret history), a book by Lieutenant Abdul Ruzibiza—ex-member of the Armée patriotique rwandaise (APR) (Rwandan Patriotic Army) presented as one of the key witnesses of the Bruguière investigation—was published in October 2005. Academics André Guichaoua and Claudine Vidal, despite being fierce opponents of the “conspiracy theory” attributed to the other side, displayed an academic endorsement of it with a preface and afterword. [41] In his account, the author claimed, among other things, that he was part of a commando unit that shot down the plane. The following month, Pierre Péan’s publication Noires fureurs, blancs menteurs (Black rage, white liars) [42] appeared, synthesizing for the wider public what could be called the “sacred history” of French involvement in Rwanda while simultaneously relativizing the genocide against the Tutsis. [43] The notoriety of Pierre Péan ensured a level of media coverage unusual for this kind of topic. In the ensuing months, a civil society organization named Association France Turquoise emerged, aiming to defend the honor of French soldiers who had been involved in the eponymous operation as well as the range of French military operations in Rwanda more generally. Founded in 2006 and led by General Lafourcade, the ex-commander of Operation Turquoise, this association relayed Péan’s writings, Bruguière’s findings, and the accounts written by French ex-officers. [44]

19 With these initiatives, the focus was no longer on the genocide against the Tutsis but on the attack, which was presented as the decisive and enabling factor of the genocide. This had the effect of allowing the genocide to take the backseat as a mere by-product and “reaction” to an attack, focusing all attention and reinforcing attributions of responsibility, as well as dismissing the subsequent coup d’état by Hutu extremists as no more than an improvised response by people who were helpless in the face of the RPF who had it all planned out, and who in some variations of this rhetoric become jointly—or even primarily—responsible, for the genocide. According to a strange use of zero-sum logic, this reevaluation of the supposed responsibility of the RPF would diminish that of the French actors over the whole of the 1990–1994 period and validate the enemy status of the RPF, which France therefore would have had good reason to fight between 1990 and 1993. [45] This goes to show how much media activity around the investigation into the attack also served to tie in other matters to this event and to shift the focus of the controversy to the role of the RPF rather than that of France. [46]

20 Between France’s “secret war” in Rwanda on one hand and a “secret history” of the RPF on the other, talk of unveiling hidden agendas could only cause the controversy to intensify, in a downward spiral that led to accusations and excommunications that the two sides, which really were “deeply entrenched camps,” [47] threw at each other. For some, criticizing the role of France in Rwanda amounted to playing into the hands of the RPF, or even acting as their “accomplice,” the “useful idiot,” or “a white liar.” For others, criticizing the role of the RPF amounted to playing into the hands of the Hutu extremists and relativizing or denying the genocide. Thus, gradually, “the Rwanda affair came to reveal antagonisms that went beyond it,” [48] in the sense that geopolitical passions led to the division being aligned with other preexisting polarizing geopolitical questions, particularly in relation to Israel/Palestine, Atlanticism/sovereignty, and the condemnation of American imperialism versus the condemnation of Françafrique. [49] The dividing line between networks of actors—in civil society, the media, politics, or academia—was clearly drawn, for example, when proceedings were brought against Pierre Péan’s publication in 2008 (and the appeal hearing in 2009). When these proceedings were filed by the civil society organizations SOS Racisme and Ibuka against Pierre Péan for “defamation and incitement of racial hatred,” the list of prosecution and defense witnesses mapped a large number of the actors within the controversy. [50] From the moment Péan’s book was published in 2005, media positions were clearly established: Libération, Jeune Afrique, Le Nouvel Obs, and Le Monde criticized it,  [51] yet it received praise from Valeurs Actuelles and Marianne.

21 The shift of the controversy toward the attack and the alleged responsibility of the RPF clearly had an effect on bilateral relations. After the article by Stephen Smith was published, in March 2004, the Rwandan president Paul Kagame made accusations about France in several interviews, which were repeated at the April 7 commemorations in Kigali in front of the Secretary of State Renaud Muselier, who then brought forward his departure from the country. Relations deteriorated further toward the end of 2005 when the books by Ruzibiza and Péan were published. But the point of no return was only really reached toward the end of Jaques Chirac’s second term, on November 23, 2006, when international arrest warrants were announced by Judge Bruguière for nine members of Paul Kagame’s entourage. Paul Kagame himself was not pursued due to his presidential immunity but was clearly targeted. [52] The next day, the Rwandan government announced the severing of diplomatic relations with France and the French embassy in Kigali closed three days later. [53] In the aftermath, Rwanda announced the establishment of a “National Independent Commission Charged With Gathering Evidence to Show the Implication of the French Government in the Genocide Perpetrated in Rwanda in 1994,” which had been in the works since 2005 but only began its work in 2007. Known as the “Mucyo commission” after the name of its chair, its work concluded in August 2008 with the “Mucyo report,” implicating thirteen French politicians and twenty French soldiers. [54] The Rwandan government claimed to have the right to prosecute twenty-three of them. Rwanda then appointed a second commission, this time on the April 6, 1994 attack in response to the Bruguière investigation. [55] This would have a peculiar fate once Judge Bruguière left to get into politics under the banners of the Union pour un mouvement Populaire (UMP) (Union for a Popular Movement). In March 2007, judges Marc Trévidic and Nathalie Poux resumed the investigation with a fresh take. The announcement of changes in the direction of the case would, however, only take place as of 2010.

2007–2017: The first steps toward a reconciliation and failed attempts at normalization

22 Bilateral relations at the beginning of Nicolas Sarkozy’s five-year term in 2007 were therefore at their lowest point, locked in a legal stalemate. A reconciliation, given Rwanda’s positioning in Central African geopolitics and for economic reasons, was nevertheless very quickly announced as a priority of the Élysée and the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Bernard Kouchner. In December 2007, President Sarkozy met with President Kagame in Lisbon and voiced France’s willingness to reflect on its “mistakes.” As for the minister, Kouchner “visited Kigali in January 2008 after rejecting Judge Bruguière’s findings in Paris.” [56] This reconciliation was poorly received by those defending France’s involvement, who saw it as a concession to an overly demanding Kigali and who, alongside Association France Turquoise, urged the political leadership to defend the army’s involvement against the accusations made in the Mucyo report. In February 2009, Pierre Péan published a new pamphlet, Le monde selon K. (The world according to K.), [57] a critical biography of Minister Kouchner, of which a significant part—disproportionate to the subject’s role in the minister’s career—was dedicated to Rwanda, seemingly with the aim of undermining the minister and condemning the ongoing reconciliation, which nevertheless continued. Consequently, in November 2009, Claude Guéant met with Paul Kagame and the two countries announced their willingness to rebuild diplomatic relations. In February 2010, this rebuilding was carried out by President Nicolas Sarkozy when he visited Kigali accompanied by Bernard Kouchner. He highlighted the “errors in judgment and political errors” and a “sort of blindness” on the part of France between 1990 and 1994. A new ambassador, Laurent Contini, who was close to the minister, was appointed. At the end of the year, the international arrest warrants against the Rwandan officials incriminated by the Bruguière ruling were lifted.

23 The replacement of Bernard Kouchner by Alain Juppé as Minister of Foreign Affairs in summer 2011, however, would have further effects on bilateral relations, with the Rwandan authorities condemning the French minister’s stance on France’s involvement. The new ambassador proposed by France, Hélène Le Gal, was rejected by Kigali in a decision that seemed symbolically more targeted at the minister than the ambassador herself. [58] While the restoration of diplomatic relations floundered, a remarkable change could nevertheless be seen in the legal sphere in response to criticisms of the slow pace of French justice in relation to the lawsuits against the Rwandans accused of genocide. In January 2012, a “genocide and crimes against humanity” division was established at the Tribunal de grande instance (the High Court) in Paris, allowing for processes to be centralized and arrangements to be made for the first trials in France dedicated to the genocide against the Tutsis.

24 During Hollande’s term, bilateral relations stagnated. Multiple meetings were organized but stalemates persisted, with the French president appearing to err on the side of caution. [59] After several months of imbroglio, France finally succeeded in getting Kigali to accept their new ambassador. [60] He would stay there for three years but would be a persona non grata at the 2014 commemorations and would have no immediate successor. [61] Although diplomatic relations were not officially severed again, France consequently had no ambassador to Kigali from 2015 to 2021. Meanwhile, a presidential initiative relating to official documents was announced, which consisted of Élysée archives being partially declassified. [62] While bilateral relations were at a standstill, the “blows” of the internal controversy within France were mainly dealt within the legal and publishing arenas. In June 2013, the NGO Survie, the Fédération internationale pour les droits humains (FIDH) (International Federation for Human Rights), and the Ligue des droits de l’Homme (LDH) (Human Rights League) filed a lawsuit against Paul Barril for complicity in the Rwandan genocide on account of a service contract between his security company and the interim Rwandan government while the genocide was taking place. [63] In June 2017, the Collectif des parties civiles pour le Rwanda (CPCR) (Collective of Civil Parties for Rwanda), Ibuka, and the Sherpa association filed a lawsuit against the French bank BNP Paribas for “complicity in committing genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity” in a case involving the sale of arms delivered in June 1994 to Zaire for the interim Rwandan government. [64] On the other hand, the lengthy legal battle against journalist Patrick de Saint-Exupéry by seven French soldiers finally came to an end after appeal and cassation. Throughout this time, the media continued to be divided along existing lines: Libération, Mediapart, and Jeune Afrique provided information on the latest developments in the investigation into the attack and on the ongoing proceedings in France. [65] On the other side, Valeurs Actuelles and Marianne reported on new publications that upheld the findings and arguments of Bruguière and Péan. [66] In the academic sphere, the publication of an introductory guide to the genocide against the Tutsis by Filip Reyntjens triggered a battle of opinion pieces in Le Monde regarding his particular analysis of the genocide against the Tutsis, which continued in the vein of Bruguière and Péan, acting as a reminder of the extent to which reconciliation between the different sides in academia remained impossible. [67] Given its twists and turns, the French courts’ unusual investigation into the attack was itself a good barometer for the evolution of the controversy in France and was closely tied to France-Rwanda relations. In addition to triggering the severance of diplomatic relations in 2006, the investigation touched upon the roots of the controversy, leading to a crossfire of accusations and instrumentalization. The investigation under Bruguière during Chirac’s term, which pointed toward RPF’s responsibility for the attack, was criticized by civil society organizations and journalists leading on the condemnation of France’s involvement for its findings that exclusively found fault with the RPF. The fact that the investigation had been informed by Paul Barril and ex-officials of the Habyarimana or Mobutu regimes alongside RPF defectors taken in by France, among others, was especially criticized. Following Judge Bruguière’s departure, accusations went in the other direction during the terms of Sarkozy, Hollande, and Macron. Judges Trévidic and Poux rejected Judge Bruguière’s findings and instead, following expert ballistic and acoustic assessments, oriented the investigation toward Hutu extremists, but reached no conclusion. [68] Those defending France’s involvement as well as fierce critics of the RPF regime then condemned the turn taken by the investigation, suggesting that it was driven by the political leadership aiming for reconciliation with Rwanda, and criticized the fact that it resorted to British experts for the ballistic analysis. In 2018, the charges were finally abandoned, then, in February 2022, a ruling from the Court of Cassation put an end to the proceedings by confirming the dismissal of charges. After twenty-four years of proceedings, French courts therefore acknowledged that they had not conclusively identified any guilty party nor any instigator. Over the years, it had become clear that the controversy would not be easily resolved through establishing “legal truth.”

2017–2022: A thawing of relations through historical research?

25 At the beginning of his first five-year term, President Macron set himself the objective of thawing the atmosphere on two separate but related fronts: one being the restoration of diplomatic relations with Rwanda, and the other being the resolution of the controversy within France surrounding France’s involvement in the 1994 genocide against the Tutsis. This second objective was devised as something that would facilitate the first, that is to say, as a precondition demonstrating the new French government’s goodwill and willingness to move on.

26 The reconciliation begins on the diplomatic field with France’s support for the nomination and later election of Rwandan Minister of Foreign Affairs Louise Mushikiwabo as leader of the Organisation internationale de la francophonie in January 2018. Rwanda and France admitted that they needed each other in Africa, where Rwanda was now a key player and where the diplomatic stalemate between the two countries limited their respective room for maneuver. Rwanda also aimed to diversify its non-African partners, some of whom were now more critical of human rights violations. As for France, it hoped to undo its negative image on the continent in relation to the Rwanda case. In the framework of the “new African policy” that all new French presidents claim they wish to adopt at the beginning of their term, Rwanda consequently ranked highly, among numerous other objectives, on Macron’s list of priorities.

27 Another major development, the establishment of the “Research Commission on the French Archives Relating to Rwanda and the Tutsi Genocide,” chaired by the historian Vincent Duclert, was announced in April 2019. Twenty-one years after the MIP, the Duclert commission reexamined French involvement in Rwanda between 1990 and 1994. The publicly declared reason for establishing it was not that new information had come to light but rather that there was a willingness to bring the controversy to an end, or at least shift it, so that it no longer hindered the France-Rwanda reconciliation that both parties envisaged. To move forward, the choice was made to enable that historical drive, with a mass opening by general derogation of its archives to its members and the selection of a commission chair who had not been an active participant in the academic controversy over the subject. [69] This policy of using reports to appease—or neutralize—the opposing sides of a controversy through research was not exclusive to the Rwanda case. In fact, some months earlier, Felwine Sarr and Bénédicte Savoy submitted their report on the restitution of African cultural heritage, and the following year, a report was commissioned from Benjamin Stora [70] on how to de-escalate the war of memories surrounding colonialism and the Algerian War. [71] Amid the COVID-19 pandemic and following two years of work, the Duclert commission produced a lengthy report which was published in April 2021. Based solely on French administrative archives, the report closely examined France’s decisions and responsibility, arriving at harsher conclusions than the MIP and branding French actors (particularly the Élysée’s état-major particulier and within the Special Operations Forces) who had been involved in the series of events that led to the genocide against the Tutsis as having “heavy and overwhelming responsibilities.” Conversely, or “at the same time,” the report concluded that there was no intentional complicity on the part of the French actors and reestablished some of the facts in relation to Operation Turquoise. This balanced position established a middle-ground knowledge base for the field in the sense that it significantly undermined the more extreme interpretations on either side of the controversy: neither intentional French complicity nor outrageous demonization of the RPF.

28 This adoption of the middle ground had several effects: on one hand it opened up dialogue to military figures feeling uncomfortable with the fixed narrative about French involvement that had until this point been promoted by Association France Turquoise, [72] and on the other hand it allowed activists to draw on the contents and relativize some of the earlier accusations which remained unconfirmed in the report, for example, in relation to the Bisesero case. In the end, the diplomatic objective was met as the reconciliation with Kigali was achieved by President Macron’s visit to Rwanda on May 27, 2021, two months after the publication of the Duclert report, and it was manifested in the nomination of a French ambassador to Kigali, Antoine Anfré, a diplomat whose name was actually cleared by the Duclert report. [73] In keeping with its tactics of leaving itself room for maneuver in terms of establishing its own commissions and its own reports, Rwanda commissioned an American law firm to write its own report on France’s involvement, the Muse report, whose conclusions—despite using a different methodology—were largely in line with those of the Duclert report. [74] The compatibility of these two new reports was a sign of relations thawing, and indicated a move away from report-versus-report confrontation, such as that which had occurred between the Bruguière ruling and the Mucyo report between 2004 and 2008. [75] Is it therefore necessary to rewrite “the theory of a great bargaining based on forgetting reciprocal incriminations” that Jean-Pierre Chrétien spoke of in relation to the first reconciliation under Sarkozy’s five-year term, [76] or should these reports instead be considered antidotes to forgetting that will go down in history?

29 While diplomatic relations were back on track and the “reconciliation” with the Rwandan government had taken place, the peace brought to the field of the controversy in France was more fragile, despite the significant progress enabled by the Duclert commission. After an almost unanimous response from political and media circles, cracks did indeed appear [77] and it did not take long for debate to resurface. This is partly due, on one hand, to the actions by some—though not all—of those defending France’s involvement, who fairly quickly peddled a rhetoric suggesting “a partial report—in both senses of the word.” [78] Criticism focused less on the reported facts, which were difficult to deny, than on the interpretation of the French actors’ intentionality, on the presentation of the RPF strategy being—according to the critics—insufficiently critical, and on the not entirely honest idea of “what else could we do?” On the other hand, it was also partly due to the work by the civil society organization Survie highlighting its disagreements with the report in terms of attributing complicity and the report’s blind spots (in relation to the role of mercenaries and the delivery of weapons). [79] Each side therefore seemed to stick to their known repertoire in their respective roles: Association France Turquoise and Hubert Védrine versus Survie, with the Duclert report acting as justice of the peace and each side drawing elements from it that bolster their own stance and condemning any element of contradiction with—or omission of elements from—their stance.

30 Although the controversy has not been extinguished, a significant change can nevertheless be observed. Before the Duclert report, the debate did not allow for a middle-ground stance to be taken that could cater to both sides simultaneously. Now, following the publication of the report, the commission—and particularly its chair—seek to play this role by catering to both sides, taking the controversy from a two-sided confrontation to a more complex three-player configuration. Furthermore, the report allows political leaders to adopt an official voice, which appears to carry academic weight, where previously there was silence, shame, or denial. In this sense, the existence of a controversy in the background no longer paralyzes political action, which now possesses its own source of guidance.

What next? The academic, military, and legal consequences

31 Academic critiques have also emerged that confirm the milestone—in other words, that historical writing on France’s involvement shall now reflect a “before” and “after” the Duclert report—but also highlight the various possible interpretations. [80] Historical debate will continue: such is the nature of the field. Part of the Duclert commission has even transformed into a research team launching research projects on the genocide against the Tutsis in Rwanda—no longer focusing specifically on France’s involvement—which include plans for a series of conferences in Rwanda and France as well as a series of publications. [81] We are therefore witnessing an attempt to establish a new research hub on the genocide against the Tutsis, which is heavily endowed with the symbolic capital of the commission. This new player in the field, which has entered “from above” and is consequently in a powerful position, nevertheless aims to work in partnership with existing teams both at the EHESS and within the RwandaMAP2020 project. [82] This “new start” in the field also signals a time of generational renewal, which could help change the way the controversy has unfolded since 1998. The generation of researchers comprising the likes of Jean-Pierre Chrétien, Gérard Prunier, José Kagabo, Claudine Vidal, André Guichaoua, and Filip Reyntjens is gradually being replaced by a new generation of French, Belgian, and Rwandan researchers who have completed their PhDs within the last decade: Jean-Paul Kimonyo (2003 [2016 English translation]), Thomas Riot (2011), François Robinet (2012), Hélène Dumas (2013), Léon Saur (2013), Ornella Rovetta (2013), Benjamin Chemouni (2016), Aymar Nyenyezi Bisoka (2016), Philibert Gakwenzire (2017), Florence Rasmont (2019), Dantès Singiza (2019), Rémi Korman (2020), Amélie Faucheux (2019), Florent Piton (2020), Liberata Gahongayire (2022), and Violaine Baraduc (2022). [83] This generational change does not preclude intellectual links, [84] but it is interesting to note that the former generation has not been overseeing the work of the latter, whose supervisors were often external to the Africanist field or to the Great Lakes Region. [85] This new generation has developed new collaborative approaches to research, which are again often, strictly speaking, external to the “Africanist” field. Consequently, the issue of the genocide against the Tutsis now goes beyond the narrow topic of France’s involvement and engages decreasingly with the Africanist field and increasingly with genocide studies, fueling comparisons with the holocaust, the Armenian genocide, the wars in former Yugoslavia, and Cambodia. In a sense, the current situation reinforces what Florence Bernault said in 1997 about Africanist journals’ absence from the discussion of the genocide against the Tutsis in 1994, which has hardly been disproved since: indeed, special issues on this topic over the last thirty years have emerged outside the two main Africanist journals (Politique africaine and Cahiers d’études africaines). [86]

Africanists and the Duclert commission: An opportunity for dialogue missed then taken up?

32 The present issue of Politique africaine is nevertheless part of a recent publishing effort by several Africanist journals—including two recently established journals, Sources and Revue d’histoire contemporaine de l’Afrique—to resume publishing on Rwanda in France, thereby nuancing our understanding of the neglect of this topic by those specializing on Africa. [87] This will in fact be the second special issue by Politique africaine on Rwanda in two years. [88] The interview with Vincent Duclert raises the question of dialogue between Africanists and the Duclert commission, taking a look back at the commission’s decision not to use existing historiographical sources as its starting point. Besides the methodological issues within the discipline of history, this bias raises questions about the relative importance of expert knowledge of the historical context and Rwandan politics as well as a strong understanding of the inner workings of French bureaucracy in order to conduct work that should above all be, according to Vincent Duclert, a “history of the [French] state and Republic.” [89] It should also be noted that the initial controversies that arose in relation to the composition of the Duclert commission [90] were often the result of misunderstandings. In fact, on the specific question of France’s involvement in Rwanda, the commission came to operate in a relatively “empty” academic space because, as we have seen, the issue had to some extent been abandoned due to the lack of access to sources. The discomfort expressed by some was less to do with an already occupied academic niche being taken than it was with the privileged access to archives granted to the commission’s members and its seemingly deliberate distancing from expert sources of knowledge. In reality, these sources of knowledge inevitably influenced the commission’s thinking, and in terms of process, dialogue with some specialists on the genocide against the Tutsis was reopened. On this, Mathilde Beaufils notes that the commission may have seemed, despite focusing on France’s involvement, to validate one historical interpretation or another of the genocide, of the degree to which it was planned, or of its long-term and immediate causes in an interesting shift that has now made the commission a key player not only in the historical writings on France’s involvement, but also in how research on the history of the genocide itself (based, however, solely on the French sources analyzed and the effects of France’s involvement in the series of events leading up to the genocide) is organized. Regardless of these missed or grasped opportunities for dialogue between the Duclert commission and those specializing on Rwanda, the relationship between academic knowledge and activist knowledge was worthy of reexamination.

Researchers and activists: A complicated association?

33 As a matter of fact, since 1994, there has been no shortage of initiatives bringing the world of research and activist associations together on the topic of France’s involvement. [91] While it may at times be fashionable to distance oneself intellectually from Survie within academic circles (due to its overly “deterministic” or “simplistic” approach, mono-causal argument, “exaggeration,” underestimation of African actors’ agency, and overestimation of that of French actors, etc.), research has often been based on activist knowledge and materials, especially in a context where access to the relevant archives had been extremely restricted until the Duclert commission. It should also be noted that advances in knowledge on this subject—from the 1998 MIP to the 2004 CEC, the legal investigations triggered by the civil society organizations’ charges, and even the Duclert commission itself, as its chair recognizes in the interview within this issue—were made possible by the climate of activist activity on this topic. Discussions over methods can prove fruitful; such examples include the debate proposed by Revue d’histoire contemporaine de l’Afrique with the researcher François Graner, [92] a member of Survie, on the topic of archives, as well as the debate around the volume titled L’Empire qui ne veut pas mourir (The empire that does not want to die) in this issue. [93] However, the misunderstandings haven’t been entirely cleared up, and the differences are acknowledged; the main thing is that it is possible to debate them. Relations between the Duclert commission and the NGO Survie have not been particularly harmonious, with, for example, the NGO suggesting a nonexistent partnership and seeing the creation of the commission as a form of academic and political takeover of the subject after years of activist activity. [94] However, it is difficult for the NGO to be too openly critical of a commission that has allowed significant access to archives and that has provided academic confirmation of many facts that the NGO had itself put forward. These disagreements, despite being very real, are nothing like those visible on the Franco-Rwandan legal scene.

Rwanda in the French courts

34 The Franco-Rwandan legal scene is composed of three types of proceedings. The first of these relates to lawsuits filed in France against the presumed Rwandan génocidaires living in exile in France, which were initiated since the end of the 1990s by the CPCR, Survie, FIDH, Ibuka France, and other organizations. Under Chirac’s presidency, these lawsuits were characterized by a particularly slow pace and rarely reached a conclusion. The process, it is worth remembering, sped up as of Sarkozy’s term with the creation of a specialized division within the Tribunal de grande instance in Paris, leading to the beginning of trials during the terms of Hollande and Macron. With a total of thirty-four lawsuits filed and twenty-seven ongoing legal proceedings, as well as the symbolic arrests that have been made in recent years, [95] France is now, in striking contrast, the European country where the largest number of criminal court trials against Rwandan nationals for participation in or complicity to commit genocide against the Tutsis takes place. Four cases have already been judged to date, with the trial of Captain Pascal Simbikangwa in 2014 (appealed in 2016), that of mayors Tito Barahira and Octavien Ngenzi in 2016 (appealed in 2018), and those of the driver Claude Muhayamina in 2021 and the prefect Laurent Bucyibaruta in 2022. They all received sentences ranging from fourteen years to life in prison. [96] In the present issue, the questions posed by Timothée Brunet-Lefèvre in relation to one of these trials, that of the mayors of Kaborondo in eastern Rwanda, are important because they examine the effects of how the new French legal scene is constituted: How can the local setting of the genocide be recreated? How can the distance be canceled out or diminished? How can the necessary cultural and contextual immersion be incorporated without falling into the trap of culturalism that is often used as a means of defense by those accused? All these challenges faced by the average French Assize Court are perhaps made all the more complex when set against a backdrop of controversy in France that sometimes limits understanding of the facts and issues, or for example, when experts on the context who are more or less in agreement are involved. [97] But more importantly, isn’t French justice—even if it is now moving forward—almost too late? “Is the genocide becoming inaccessible,” wonders Timothée Brunet-Lefèvre in this issue, “in these trials that are being held three decades later, as witnesses are disappearing and the facts are becoming further removed”?

35 The second kind of legal proceedings encompasses the trials brought against French actors by other French actors, plunging us back into the internal controversy within France. Some of these lawsuits are filed by civil society organizations against French actors and institutions for “complicity to commit genocide” or against journalists defending France’s involvement for “inciting racial hatred” or “genocide denial,” while others are lawsuits filed by French political or military figures against journalists, researchers, or activists for “defamation” or “public insult.” A comprehensive tally of these lawsuits is impossible, but it amounts to several dozens of cases and reveals the extent to which this “French passion,” more than any other, regularly fuels the French courts but also limits calm debate due to its increasing litigiousness. Finally, the last type of lawsuit is something else entirely: it relates to the aforementioned case concerning the attack against the Rwandan presidential plane on April 6, 1994, which was entrusted to a judiciary responsible for counterterrorism affairs and had unusual and long-term developments (from 1998 to 2022) that heavily affected the France-Rwanda relationship.

36 What will come of the legal proceedings against French actors after the Duclert report? Those that are already underway continue with the Duclert report already being used as material in the proceedings. [98] For Vincent Duclert, however, following the historians’ work, the prospect of charges against French actors for complicity to commit genocide should logically disappear. In his interview with us for this issue, he stresses that this exercise in truth is in itself a ruling, a “verdict of history,” which would be sufficient in itself. In other words, “truth makes justice,” [99] according to an understanding of truth that seeks reconciliation rather than the criminalization of the past. The exercise in transparency, public awareness of the acts committed, and the acknowledgment of “heavy and overwhelming responsibilities” would function as a mea culpa that should end the process of the controversy and the threat of legal charges. From the activist perspective of the NGO Survie, however, it is quite a different story. Legal proceedings are still a key objective of activists’ work according to Thomas Borrel, in order to access pieces of information or elements that remain unknown, such as within the lawsuit against the mercenary Paul Barril. [100] In the view of associations for genocide survivors, such as Ibuka, [101] we could ask ourselves whether we believe that historic truth alone brings justice? The debate will undoubtedly continue.

37 Perhaps more intriguing is a debate that hasn’t really taken place since the Duclert report: the one relating to the ways to reform decision-making on foreign policy and armed intervention under the political regime of the Fifth Republic, especially in Africa—an issue raised by the MIP in 1998. What institutional lessons can be drawn from France’s failings in Rwanda, and what developments should be envisaged in the day-to-day functioning of “the state and the Republic,” to use the words of Vincent Duclert, so that further mistakes are avoided? This same question is asked in our interview with Jean-François Bayart and arises in the conclusion of the articles by Mathilde Beaufils and Thomas Borrel. It is also posed by a colonel, Patrice Sartre, a veteran of Operation Turquoise, as well as the historian François Robinet a year after the Duclert report. [102] But curiously, although a degree of consensus could be found on this topic, government has remained rather silent, as if the historical exercise undertaken concerned the past alone and had nothing to tell us about the present.

Politique africaine and Rwanda: A review

In purely quantitative terms, there has been no shortage of articles on Rwanda in Politique africaine since 1994, even if the number is not particularly high considering the significance of the genocide against the Tutsis as an event: about twenty articles have been published in the journal, whereas Cahiers d’études africaines, for example, has published about ten. Very few of these texts, however, have dealt with the genocide itself, and fewer still have dealt with the issue of France’s involvement in Rwanda, with neither of the two “Africanist” journals having devoted an issue to either of these subjects since 1994. It is difficult not to see this as a sign of unease. A chronological review of the discussions of Rwanda in the journal Politique africaine will allow this relative avoidance to be documented.

As early as August 1994, Alain Ricard, the director of the journal, offered a brief retrospective look at the discussions of Rwanda since the journal’s creation. [103] Back then, he counted seven texts over fifteen years of existence, lamenting this “scarcity of work” on the country. Before the genocide, three main authors wrote articles on Rwanda: jurist Filip Reyntjens, [104] historian Jean-Pierre Chrétien, [105] and journalist Danielle Helbig. [106] Reyntjens and Helbig are Belgian, and Jean-Pierre Chrétien is in fact the only French Africanist to have published in Politique africaine before 1993. It is to him that we owe the emphasis placed on ethnic fundamentalism and racist ideology as fundamental issues, as well as the fact that the journal did not overlook the worrying developments of the Habyarimana regime. In 1993, while the RPF stepped up its offensive and French involvement intensified, the journal shed light on the roles of the actors involved with an article by Gérard Prunier on the history of the RPF [107] and an article written under a pseudonym painting an uncompromising picture of French involvement. [108] There was no analysis of the Habyarimana regime or of the democratic Hutu opposition, although work had been undertaken on these issues.

Then came the genocide, which gave rise to a single “spur of the moment” response by Jean-Pierre Chrétien in the form of an editorial published in the June 1994 issue, which was supported by the journal’s management. [109] But on the whole, in 1994, articles were rather scarce in spite of the magnitude of the event: in the fall, only one article was published. [110] As of 1995, a new period began, which saw Rwanda discussed from various angles and by authors with quite varying stances, yet the France-Rwanda relationship was never the main subject of discussion. First, in fall 1995, an article appeared that was written in spring 1994 by sociologist Jean-Pierre Pabanel, and which offered an assessment of the Habyarimana regime and its contradictions, [111] then a month later, a brief examination of Africanism in Belgium written by Gauthier de Villers, a political scientist specializing in Congo/Zaire, was published. [112] The author sought to explain the stances of researchers, journalists, religious figures, and Belgian aid workers (as well as, curiously, Jean-Pierre Chrétien, who features within the list and is directly referenced in the article) according to their “sensitivities” to the “Hutu” or “Tutsi” causes, with these sensitivities being attributed to other pre-existing divisions (progressive/conservative, French-speaking/Flemish, secular/religious, etc.).

Two years later, in a completely different vein, historian Florence Bernault outlined her reasoning on the French case: How could the absence of a collective research agenda in France on the “intellectual and theoretical problems surrounding the Rwanda crisis” [113] be explained? The author stressed that collective action was “confined to humanitarian, political, and civic action” because the genocide against the Tutsis was at first perceived as a “political challenge” rather than an epistemological one for the Africanist community in France. [114] The challenge was twofold as the issue of the genocide was enormous in an epistemological sense and very much alive in France’s political sphere. More broadly, the relative silence of Africanist research in France was attributed to the growing marginalization of African studies in France and the low level of institutionalized relations with political power.

Florence Bernault’s article was in fact part of a Politique africaine issue directed by André Guichaoua and Claudine Vidal on international politics within the Great Lakes Region, much of which was devoted to the consequences of the 1994 genocide, set against the broader regional context of the rebuilding of the state, [115] humanitarian issues, [116] and issues relating to human rights [117] and refugees. [118] Although not identified as a “Rwanda” issue as such because it deliberately adopted a regional focus, this issue showed that, three years after the genocide, Politique africaine had not completely missed the opportunity to publish on Rwanda. Nevertheless, a sense of incompleteness remained due to the lack of work published in the journal on the event itself, its genesis, and its mechanics. Dissemination of knowledge on these key elements indeed took place elsewhere, in the form of books or writings by journalists or activists who were much greater in number than the researchers.

As of 1997, two top stories were featured in the journal: the first debates on international justice and the first trials at the ICTR (International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda) [119] as well as the establishment of the 1998 Mission d’information parlementaire (MIP) on the “military operations led by France, other countries, and the United Nations in Rwanda between 1990 and 1994.” That is when questions about France’s involvement emerged in the journal, with the topic being opened by Jean-Pierre Chrétien in June 1994, yet no substantive article on the issue was published thereafter. Rather, the civil society, media, and activist—and at that point parliamentary—spheres were where the pace was being set. The journal published a collective initiative by researchers and civil society actors in fall 1998, setting out a list of questions and points for clarification for the MIP. [120] Belgian and French parliamentary reports were also reviewed. [121] Then, academic interest in the issue of France’s involvement seemed to lie dormant for a long period.

Between 1999 and 2004, justice once again became the main angle from which the country was discussed, [122] alongside foreign policy. The geopolitics of the Great Lakes Region became highly topical, and interest in the conflicts shifted toward the Democratic Republic of the Congo. [123] Not a single piece was devoted to the internal Rwandan context, as though nothing was happening there. In 2004, on the tenth anniversary of the genocide, the telegram from General Dallaire to UN headquarters on January 11, 1994, was featured at the start of the issue, but there was no article presenting, for example, a historiographical account ten years following the genocide. [124]

Between 2005 and 2009, despite a great deal of news around the genocide in publishing, media, legal, and diplomatic fields in France, not a single article about Rwanda appeared, although it was very much covered in the “Book review” and “About a book” sections. This coverage reflected the prolific publishing scene on Rwanda that had emerged elsewhere as well as the ongoing debates within the discipline of history or those relating to the issue of mass violence. [125] The journal took a step back and thus remained, through its silence, at a distance from the extremely heated debates raging on in relation to both France’s involvement and the nature of the new Rwandan regime (which are in reality overlapping controversies and so lead to the intensification of each other). It is hard not to see this silence as indirect evidence of the effects of the polarization of this field, which made it harder to propose an issue on this subject to the journal and its committee. Proposals for such issues have apparently not been lacking, but due to a lack of consensus on the process of coordinating such an issue or on the issue itself, they have not been progressed.

In 2009, Jean-Pierre Chrétien eventually provided an update on these rich topical developments in the Franco-Rwandan case over the previous years, bringing Politique africaine back to the issue it had abandoned since 1998. [126] As of 2010, a new generation of researchers whose work did not relate to the genocide itself were published in the journal, while researchers studying the genocide were getting published in other journals, including generalist and history journals. Thus topics such as colonial history, cultural history, the anthropology of techniques of the body, and societal control featured in the journal, such as Thomas Riot’s work in the field of history [127] and Molly Sundberg’s piece on disciplining the bodies and minds under the new regime. [128] During this decade, the most absent themes remained obvious: the internal workings of the RPF regime and its evolution, Franco-Rwandan relations since 2009, economic and social transformations, and criminal policy. It was not until the special issue coordinated by Benjamin Chemouni that the first Rwanda-themed issue of Politique africaine in the journals’ existence appeared, [129] which dealt with some of these themes. Although the issue on “The state in Rwanda after the genocide” did not address the genocide against the Tutsis, instead focusing on the post-1994 period, it was not spared from the polarization at the time, the intensity—and to some extent, the legitimacy—of which had escaped the editor-in-chief. This demonstrates that in the 2020s, almost thirty years later, the case of Rwanda remains a particularly sensitive topic, raising the question of whether it is possible to write and engage in dialogue within a community of peers whose delimitation itself is questionable.
Étienne Smith

Mise en ligne 12/22/2022

https://doi.org/10.3917/polaf.166.0005

Notes

[1]
With thanks to Séverine Awenengo Dalberto, Boris Samuel, Christine Deslaurier, Florent Piton, Mathilde Beaufils, Hélène Dumas, and Benjamin Chemouni for their valuable feedback on this introduction.
[2]
Christophe Ayad and Philippe Bernard, “Rwanda, une passion française,” Le Monde Afrique, January 26, 2012. Translator’s note: Our translation. Unless otherwise stated, all translations of cited foreign language material in this article are our own.
[3]
Paul Quilès, Pierre Brana, and Bernard Cazeneuve, Rapport d’information, déposé en application de l’article 145 du Réglement, par la mission d’information de la Commission de la défense nationale et des forces armées et de la Commission des affaires étrangères, sur les opérations militaires menées par la France, d’autre pays et l’ONU au Rwanda entre 1990 et 1994 (Paris: National Assembly of France, 1998).
[4]
François-Xavier Verschave and Laure Coret, eds., L’horreur qui nous prend au visage. L’État français et le génocide au Rwanda. Rapport de la Commission d’enquête citoyenne (Paris: Karthala, 2005).
[5]
Vincent Duclert, La France, le Rwanda et le génocide des Tutsi (1990–1994): Rapport remis au président de la République le 26 mars 2021 (Paris: Armand Colin, 2021).
[6]
See the doctoral thesis that Mathilde Beaufils at the ISP (Institut des sciences sociales du politique, Université Paris Nanterre) has been working on since 2019 and François Robinet’s upcoming work (habilitation à diriger des recherches, HDR). For an assessment of the stages of the controversy in the middle of and toward the end of the 2000s, but from opposing perspectives, see Claudine Vidal, “La politique de la France au Rwanda de 1990 à 1994. Les nouveaux publicistes de l’histoire conspirationniste,” Les temps modernes 642 (2007): 117–43; Jean-Pierre Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux,” Politique africaine 113 (2009): 121–38. For more recent assessments, see François Robinet, “Le rôle de la France au Rwanda: Les journalistes français au cœur d’une nouvelle guerre de mémoire (1994–2015),” Le temps des médias 26 (2016): 211–30; Alain Gabet and Sébastien Jahan, “‘Les faits sont têtus’: Vingt ans de déni sur le rôle de la France au Rwanda (1994–2014). Deuxième partie: Lâchetés politiques et complicités médiatiques,” Cahiers d’histoire. Revue d’histoire critique 129 (2015): 153–73; Joël Hubrecht, “La difficile introspection de la France au Rwanda,” Esprit 7–8 (2019): 199–205.
[7]
Pierre Péan during his appeal hearing, 11th chamber of the Paris Court of Appeal, September 9, 2009.
[8]
“It was activist associations that contributed most effectively to the repeatedly launched attacks against the French authorities by consistently leading campaigns that employed all sorts of mobilizing techniques (petitions, the organization of conferences, and the dissemination of newsletters). Despite serving to consolidate the argument of France’s ‘complicity’ in the genocide against Rwandan Tutsis, this accusatory spirit also had the effect of creating a heated atmosphere full of excommunications, which was made all the more intolerant by many activists being unaverse to the benefits of posturing as the defender of the oppressed in the face of a criminal power.” Claudine Vidal, “Du soupçon civique à l’enquête citoyenne: Controverses sur la politique de la France au Rwanda de 1990 à 1994,” Critique internationale 36 (2007): 73–74.
[9]
“The main themes of these conferences, which were later feverishly rehashed on websites dedicated to the topic, were well-crafted: in the Rwandan Civil War, ‘interethnic massacres’ led to victims on both sides and what the world called ‘genocide’ was simply one episode of them; the ‘sudden’ anger of the Hutus was understandable (and here, the justifications for the argument go as far as suggesting that racist rhetoric from a bygone era about ‘Tutsi deceitfulness’ was not untrue); the international courts were biased; ultimately, the RPF [the Rwandan Patriotic Front] were responsible for the genocide against the Tutsis and were in fact covering up an Anglo-Saxon conspiracy to dominate Central Africa; and finally, those who did not share this view were merely lackeys for the RPF or the United States. We are witnessing the return of an ‘anti-France’ narrative.” Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux,” 131–32.
[10]
François Robinet, “Le rôle de la France au Rwanda: L’histoire piégée?,” Revue d’histoire culturelle 2 (2021): 890, accessed August 12, 2022, doi: 10.56698/rhc.890.
[11]
Ibid.
[12]
Jean-Pierre Chrétien, “Le Rwanda et la France: La démocratie ou les ethnies?” Esprit 190 (1993): 190–95; Jean-Pierre Chrétien, “Rwanda. La responsabilité de la France,” Politique africaine 54 (1994): 2–6; Gérard Prunier, Rwanda: Le génocide, (Paris: Dagorno, 1995); Jean-François Bayart, “Rwanda: Les ambiguïtés d’une intervention,” Esprit 204 (1994): 187–89; Jean-François Bayart and Gustave Massiah, “La France au Rwanda. Entretien,” Les temps modernes 583 (1995): 216–27; Marc Le Pape, “Les engagements français au Rwanda,” Politique africaine 71 (1998): 172–79; Marc Le Pape, “Les engagements français au Rwanda (2),” Politique africaine 73 (1999): 171–75; Jean-Pierre Chrétien, “Les responsabilités politiques du génocide, vues de Bruxelles et de Paris,” Politique africaine 73 (1999): 159–64.
[13]
David Ambrosetti, La France au Rwanda. Un discours de légitimation morale (Paris: Karthala, 2001); Olivier Lanotte, La France au Rwanda (1990–1994). Entre abstention impossible et engagement ambivalent, (Brussels: P.I.E. Peter Lang, 2007).
[14]
For a literature review, see: Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau, Une initiation. Rwanda (1994–2016) (Paris: Seuil, 2017), 53–68; Robinet, “Le rôle de la France au Rwanda: L’histoire piégée?,” 890.
[15]
The term “Africanist” is used here in an institutional sense, relating to the institutions associated with the field and its inclusion in academic collaboration networks (specialized journals, professional associations, and research groups). We do not discuss the legitimacy or various ways of (mis)using this term here.
[16]
Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau, “La responsabilité de la France vue du Rwanda. Le rapport Mucyo: Une lecture historienne,” Esprit 364 (2010): 122–34; François Robinet, “L’empreinte des récits médiatiques: Mémoires françaises du génocide des Tutsi du Rwanda,” Les temps modernes 680 (2014): 166–88.
[17]
Florence Bernault, “La communauté africaniste française au crible de la crise rwandaise,” Politique africaine 68 (1997): 114.
[18]
The origins of the polarization of academic research on Rwanda and Burundi since before 1994 are not dealt with here, as they are not relevant to France’s involvement, but it is interesting to note that some aspects of that controversy, which was originally more about Burundi than Rwanda (with importance to be given to ethnicity, evaluation of the Habyarimana regime in Rwanda, or the regimes of Bagaza and later Buyoya in Burundi, and the categorization of mass violence, etc.), remain reflected in the new controversy about France’s involvement from 1994 given the presence of some of the same key actors (Reyntjens versus Chrétien) and because certain questions arise repeatedly when French political, diplomatic, or military figures endorse or challenge one academic position or another, or because these researchers have made public statements.
[19]
Vincent Duclert referencing the report by Felwine Sarr and Bénédicte Savoy: The Restitution of African Cultural Heritage. Toward a New Relational Ethics, trans. Drew S. Burk (Paris: Presidency of France, 2018), 26, accessed January 3, 2023, https://web.archive.org/web/20190328181703/http://restitutionreport2018.com/sarr_savoy_en.pdf.
[20]
Bernault, “La communauté africaniste française au crible de la crise rwandaise,” 114.
[21]
See the online database compiled by Jacques Morel and his team: France Génocide Tutsi, https://francegenocidetutsi.org/, accessed September 5, 2022.
[22]
See, among others: François-Xavier Verschave, Complicité de génocide? La politique de la France au Rwanda (Paris: La Découverte, 1994); Pascal Krop, Le génocide franco-africain. Faut-il juger les Mitterrand? (Paris: JC Lattès, 1994); Mehdi Ba, Rwanda, Un génocide français (Paris: L’esprit frappeur, 1997); Monique Mas, Paris-Kigali 1990–1994. Lunettes coloniales, politique du sabre et onction humanitaire pour un génocide en Afrique, (Paris: L’Harmattan, 1999); Jean-Paul Gouteux, La nuit rwandaise: L’implication française dans le dernier génocide du siècle (Paris: L’esprit frappeur, 2002); Jacques Morel, La France au cœur du génocide des Tutsi (Paris: L’esprit frappeur/Izuba éditions, 2010); Laure de Vulpian and Thierry Prugnaud, Silence Turquoise: Rwanda 1992–1994. Responsabilités de l’État français dans le génocide des Tutsi (Paris: Don Quichotte, 2012); Benôit Collombat and David Servenay, “Au nom de la France.” Guerres secrètes au Rwanda (Paris: La Découverte, 2014); François Graner, Le sabre et la machette. Officiers français et génocide tutsi (Mons: Tribord, 2014); Jean-François Dupaquier, Politiques, militaires et mercenaires français au Rwanda. Chronique d’une désinformation (Paris: Karthala, 2014); Laurent Larcher, Rwanda: Ils parlent. Témoignages pour l’histoire (Paris: Seuil, 2019); Raphaël Doridant and François Graner, L’État français et le génocide des Tutsis au Rwanda (Marseille: Agone, 2020).
[23]
For a discussion of the issues surrounding the Simbikangwa trial, see: Sandrine Lefranc, “Des ‘procès rwandais’ à Paris. Échos locaux d’une justice globale,” Droit et société 102 (2019): 299–318.
[24]
As François Robinet highlights, France is triply concerned by the genocide against the Tutis: “In the sense that the choices made by the French state and some of its officials influenced the fate of the Rwandans; in the sense that some of the killers live on our territory, in close proximity to us; and in the sense that ultimately, some of the descendants and inheritors of this Rwandan history live in France today.” Robinet, “Le rôle de la France au Rwanda: Les journalistes français au cœur d’une nouvelle guerre de mémoire (1994–2015),” 225. Over and above the case of France, which is the subject of this issue, it would be interesting to study the evolution of the controversy on France’s involvement in Rwanda itself, in the Great Lakes Region, and in other parts of Africa, as well as in Belgium and Canada.
[25]
See the piece by Thomas Borrel within this issue.
[26]
See, in particular, the parliamentary fact-finding mission (Quilès, Brana and Cazeneuve, Rapport d’information, déposé en application de l'article 145 du Réglement, par la mission d’information de la Commission de la défense nationale et des forces armées et de la Commission des affaires étrangères, sur les opérations militaires menées par la France, d’autre pays et l’ONU au Rwanda entre 1990 et 1994, 1998) and most importantly the Duclert report (Duclert, La France, le Rwanda et le génocide des Tutsi (1990–1994): Rapport remis au président de la République le 26 mars 2021, 2021).
[27]
Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux,” 126.
[28]
See, for example: “Pour une commission d’enquête parlementaire sur le rôle de la France entre 1990 et 1994. Au Rwanda, quelle France?” Libération, March 3, 1998, https://www.liberation.fr/tribune/1998/03/03/pour-une-commission-d-enquete-parlementaire-sur-le-role-de-la-france-entre-1990-et-1994-au-rwanda-qu_232018/.
[29]
Quilès, Brana, and Cazeneuve, Rapport d’information, déposé en application de l’article 145 du Réglement, par la mission d’information de la Commission de la défense nationale et des forces armées et de la Commission des affaires étrangères, sur les opérations militaires menées par la France, d'autre pays et l’ONU au Rwanda entre 1990 et 1994, 1998, “Conclusions,” 355–67. Institutional lessons seem to have been learned, however. The abolishment of the Ministry of Cooperation as well as the doctrine of “neither indifference nor intervention” under the Jospin government also highlight that critical review of engagement in Rwanda. See: Julien Meimon, “Que reste-t-il de la Coopération française?” Politique africaine 105 (2007): 34.
[30]
See the article by Thomas Borrel in this issue. An aspect of the 1998 milestone that has received less attention is that the relative unanimity prevailing in the French Africanist academic community in relation to the genocide against the Tutsis in 1994 crumbles when this evaluation of French responsibility takes place. Reactions to the conclusions of the MIP reveal these divisions among researchers, which also exist within the French Socialist Party.
[31]
In addition to killing the Rwandan President and three French members of the cabin crew, the attack also took the life of the President of Burundi, Cyprien Ntaryamira, as well as several other ministers and members of both presidents’ entourage.
[32]
Patrick de Saint-Exupéry, L’inavouable. La France au Rwanda (Paris: Les arènes, 2004).
[33]
This argument shall be repeated in Gabriel Périès and David Servenay, Une guerre noire. Enquête sur les origines du génocide rwandais (1959–1994) (Paris: La Découverte, 2007).
[34]
Verschave and Coret, eds., L’horreur qui nous prend au visage. L’État français et le génocide au Rwanda. Rapport de la Commission d’enquête citoyenne, 2005.
[35]
On these initiatives, see the article by Thomas Borrel in this issue.
[36]
Claudine Vidal also published an article with very critical passages about the CEC: “Du soupçon civique à l’enquête citoyenne: Controverses sur la politique de la France au Rwanda de 1990 à 1994,” 73–74.
[37]
Ibuka had been established in Belgium in 1994 and later set up branches in Switzerland and Rwanda in 1995. See: Ibuka, https://www.ibuka-france.org/.
[38]
See, for example: Tuez-les tous, Raphaël Glucksmann, David Hazan, and Pierre Mézerette (2004, broadcast by France 3 in November 2004); Opération Turquoise, Alain Tasma (2007); Retour à Kigali. Une affaire française, Jean-Christophe Klotz (broadcast by France 2 on April 25, 2019); and more recently, Rwanda: Le silence des mots, Gaël Faye and Michael Sztanke (broadcast by Arte in April 2022).
[39]
A book by the ex-UNAMIR (United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda) commander, Roméo Dallaire, was published in 2003, and its French translation was published right at the end of that year: Roméo Dallaire, Shake Hands with the Devil. The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda (Toronto: Random House Canada, 2003). The book takes a harsh view of France’s involvement, and the Canadian general will go on to be regularly criticized by some French soldiers. See also: Andrew Wallis, Silent Accomplice: The Untold Story of France’s Role in the Rwandan Genocide (London: I.B. Tauris, 2006); Linda Melvern, A People Betrayed: The Role of the West in Rwanda’s Genocide (New York and London: Zed Books, 2000).
[40]
Stephen Smith, “Révélations sur l’attentat qui a déclenché le génocide rwandais,” Le Monde, March 10, 2004; Stephen Smith, “Le récit de l’attentat du 6 avril 1994 par un ancien membre du ‘network commando,’” Le Monde, March 9, 2004. On the timing of these revelations, see Jean-Pierre Chrétien, “Dix ans après le génocide des Tutsis au Rwanda. Un malaise français?” Le temps des médias 5 (2005): 71.
[41]
Abdul Ruzibiza, Rwanda. L’histoire secrète (Paris: Éditions du Panama, 2005).
[42]
Pierre Péan, Noires fureurs, blancs menteurs. Rwanda 1990–1994 (Paris: Fayard, 2005).
[43]
Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux,” 121. The book also wades into the controversy by fiercely attacking Survie and the historian Jean-Pierre Chrétien, among others.
[44]
On these accounts, see: Étienne Smith: “Les derniers défenseurs de l’empire: Quand l’armée française raconte ses Rwanda,” Les temps modernes 680–81 (2014): 66–100; Robinet, “Le rôle de la France au Rwanda: L’histoire piégée?” 890.
[45]
At the same time, the argument claiming extremist Hutu responsibility is strongly contested among those defending France’s involvement, despite it not necessarily implicating France. In this respect, the two “sides” of the controversy hold positions that are not exactly symmetrical. For those criticizing France’s involvement, the RPF having responsibility in relation to the attack would change nothing in terms of the grievances against French support for Hutu extremists, as the attack is not considered to be the main factor in the process leading to the genocide. Validation of the “Hutu extremists” hypothesis would, however, be seen as confirmation of the extremists’ agenda for those who consider the planning of the genocide and the killing of Habyarimana to go hand in hand.
[46]
The fixation of the controversy upon the attack also largely explains the unease among researchers. Indeed, unlike the genocide—a topic that researchers have been able to make decisive contributions on—the attack and the ensuing legal proceedings fall outside their jurisdiction and are covered by sources that are inaccessible to the research world.
[47]
An expression used by Claudine Vidal: “Political theorists voicing criticism found quite a few adversaries, but the latter either excessively defended French policy in Rwanda or discovered conspiracies hatched by foreign powers. In short, the accusers and defenders developed a mindset of deeply entrenched camps.” Claudine Vidal, preface, Olivier Lanotte, La France au Rwanda (1990–1994). Entre abstention impossible et engagement ambivalent (Brussels: P.I.E. Peter Lang, 2007).
[48]
Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux,” 133.
[49]
Or, as encapsulated by Jean-Pierre Chrétien, the mad choice between “genocide made in France” and “genocide made in USA.” Ibid, 137.
[50]
Pierre Péan will be cleared. Among his supporters (limiting ourselves to the main French or Belgian actors) are: academic Filip Reyntjens; politicians Bernard Debré and Hubert Védrine; soldiers Jean-Claude Lafourcade, Michel Robardey, and Marin Gillier; and journalists Christophe Nick, Charles Onana, and Stephen Smith. Those supporting SOS Racisme and Ibuka are: Christiane Taubira, Raphaël Glucksman, Yves Ternon, Esther Mujawayo, and Marcel Kabanda.
[51]
Stephen Smith left Le Monde at the beginning of 2005, leading to a significant change in the newspaper’s coverage of Rwanda.
[52]
High Court of Paris, Office of Jean-Louis Bruguière, “Délivrance de mandats d’arrêts internationaux. Ordonnance de soit-communiqué” (International arrest warrants, November 17, 2006, 1–64). On discussions surrounding the issuance of arrest warrants, see: Philippe Bernard, “France-Rwanda: L’enquête Bruguière était suivie de près à l’Élysée,” Le Monde, December 10, 2010.
[53]
On this episode, see the account written by the French Ambassador Dominique Decherf: Couleurs. Mémoires d’un ambassadeur de France en Afrique (Paris: Pascal Galodé éditions, 2012), 243–48.
[54]
Among its members were the Franco-Rwandan EHESS historian José Kagabo and the Rwandan historian Jean-Paul Kimonyo, the author of Rwanda’s Popular Genocide. A Perfect Storm (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2016).
[55]
The “Investigation into the Causes and Circumstances of and Responsibility for the Attack of 06/04/1994 Against the Falcon 50 Rwandan Presidental Aeroplane Registration Number 9XR-NN,” also known as the Mutsinzi commission. It comprised British experts and a committee of ballistics experts. It presented its conclusions—that responsibility fell on Hutu extremists, in particular, Théoneste Bagosora and Anatole Nsengiyumva—in 2010.
[56]
Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux,” 136.
[57]
Pierre Péan, Le monde selon K. (Paris: Fayard, 2009).
[58]
“Paris rappelle son ambassadeur au Rwanda dans un contexte tendu,” Libération, February 20, 2012; François Soudan, “Rwanda: Ça coince toujours au sujet du nouvel ambassadeur de France à Kigali,” Jeune Afrique, February 20, 2012.
[59]
Christophe Boisbouvier, Hollande l’Africain (Paris: La Découverte, 2015).
[60]
Meanwhile, Hélène Le Gal became President Hollande’s Africa Advisor.
[61]
“Rwanda: L’ambassadeur de France persona non grata aux cérémonies des 20 ans du génocide,” Le Point Afrique, April 7, 2014; “Rwanda: La France n’a plus d’ambassadeur à Kigali,” RFI, October 1, 2015.
[62]
“L’Élysée déclassifie ses archives sur le Rwanda,” Libération, April 8, 2015. Access would, however, remain limited (eighty documents in total). See: François Robinet, “L’archive retrouvée. Enquêter sur le rôle de la France au Rwanda,” Revue d’histoire moderne et contemporaine 69, no. 1 (2022): 50.
[63]
On Paul Barril’s activities in relation to Rwanda, see, for example: Jean-Pierre Perrin, “Barril, ‘l’affreux,’” Revue XXI, April-May-June (2020): 52–61.
[64]
Christophe Ayad, “La BNP visée par une plainte pour complicité de génocide au Rwanda,” Le Monde, June 29, 2017.
[65]
Two texts deconstructing the Bruguière investigation, one in France and the other in Belgium, appeared during this period: Dupaquier, Politiques, militaires et mercenaires français au Rwanda. Chronique d’une désinformation; Philippe Brewaeys, Rwanda 1994. Noirs et Blancs menteurs (Brussels: Racine, 2013). One of the first accounts by a military figure proposing a different reading of Operation Turquoise also appeared. See: Guillaume Ancel,
Vents sombres sur le lac Kivu (The Book Editions, 2014) (revised and published as Rwanda, la fin du silence. Témoignage d’un officier français [Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2018]).
[66]
Especially the books by Canadian journalist Judi Rever, In Praise of Blood (New York: Random House, 2018) and Bernard Lugan, Rwanda. Un génocide en questions (Monaco: Éditions du Rocher, 2014).
[67]
For a critique calling out a “political smear” and the trivialization of the genocide by Reyntjens, see: Aurélia Kalisky et al., “Rwanda: Le ‘Que sais-je ?’ qui fait basculer l’Histoire,” Le Monde, September 25, 2017. For a defense of Reyntjens by Claudine Vidal and Marc Le Pape, who make the accusation of an attempt at intimidation, see: Marc Le Pape and Claudine Vidal, “Réponse à un procès sans instruction contre le ‘Que sais je ?’ de Filip Reyntjens” Blog Mediapart, September 30, 2017, https://blogs.mediapart.fr/fatimad/blog/300917/reponse-un-proces-sans-instruction-contre-le-que-sais-je-de-filip-reyntjens, accessed September 15, 2022; Marc Le Pape, “Génocide des Tutsi: ‘La mise en cause de l’historien Filip Reyntjens est une tentative d’intimidation,’”Le Monde, October 20, 2017. Despite this head-on confrontation, it should be remembered that neither bloc is a monolith and that conflict can arise over individual strategies as well as disciplinary or methodological disagreements regardless of political sensitivities. In the first “camp,” while Claudine Vidal and Filip Reyntjens, for example, are united in their criticism of the RPF’s political strategy, they nevertheless differ in their characterization of the violence committed and the books claiming to assess it, as well as in their assessment of the Habyarimana regime. In the other “camp,” legal expert Rafaëlle Maison was able to criticize historians examining the genocide against the Tutsis, such as Hélène Dumas and Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau, for their supposed reluctance to examine the role of France or for their historiographical choice to emphasize the “local” dimension of the genocide, rather than, according to her, the geopolitical and state rationale (and therefore, France’s possible involvement). See Rafaëlle Maison, “Quand les historiens s’éveilleront. La France et le génocide des Tutsi du Rwanda,” La vie des idées, September 11, 2015, accessed May 13, 2022, https://laviedesidees.fr/Quand-les-historiens-s-eveilleront.html.
[68]
Instead of the Masaka hillside being the presumed location of the missile fire under investigation by Judge Bruguière, the investigation now pointed to the edge of the Kanombe military camp. Extrapolations were then made by actors of the controversy as to the identity of the shooters according to the location selected for firing missiles from.
[69]
We note that in 2014, Vincent Duclert contributed to an opinion piece by a group of researchers (“Rwanda, cette histoire qu’on ne veut pas voir,” Libération, July 27, 2014) calling on the French authorities to take a clear position on the issue of France’s involvement in Rwanda, as well as contributing to the aforementioned opinion piece contesting the introductory guide on the genocide against the Tutsis written by Filip Reyntjens.
[70]
Benjamin Stora, “Les questions mémorielles portant sur la colonisation et la guerre d’Algérie,” Government report (Paris: Presidency of France, 2021).
[71]
In the same vein, in July 2022, President Macron announced the opening up of archives and a historical commission to shed light on the war against the UPC (Union of the Peoples of Cameroon) in Cameroon (1955–1971). See: Philippe Ricard, “Emmanuel Macron ouvre un nouveau chantier mémoriel au Cameroun,” Le Monde, July 27, 2022.
[72]
Piotr Smolar, “Pour le général Jean Varret, le rapport Duclert sur le Rwanda permet de ‘sortir de vingt-six ans de débats stériles,’” Le Monde, March 29, 2021; Patrice Sartre, “Général Patrice Sartre sur le Rwanda: ‘Le rapport Duclert rend justice aux soldats de l’opération Turquoise,’” Le Monde, March 30, 2021; “René Galinié: J’ai dit: ‘Attention on va au massacre!’” AFP, March 31, 2021.
[73]
See President Macron’s speech at the Kigali Genocide Memorial in Gisozi: “Discours du Président Emmanuel Macron depuis le Mémorial du génocide perpétré contre les Tutsis en 1994,” May 27, 2021, accessed October 9, 2022, https://www.elysee.fr/emmanuel-macron/2021/05/27/discours-du-president-emmanuel-macron-depuis-le-memorial-du-genocide-perpetre-contre-les-tutsis-en-1994.
[74]
Unlike the Duclert report, the Muse report uses interviews (250) and a variety of written sources in addition to French archives and addresses the period after 1994 in relation to actions in France that influenced perceptions of the genocide. Levy Firestone Muse LLP, “A Forseeable Genocide: The Role of the French Government in Connection with the Genocide of the Tutsi in Rwanda,” April 19, 2021, accessed October 8, 2022, https://www.gov.rw/musereport.
[75]
We note that in this context of warming diplomatic relations, the Rwandan government preferred to draw on the Muse report rather than the 2008 Mucyo report, which was far more hostile as it was commissioned in response to the arrest warrants issued by Judge Bruguière. The Muse report nevertheless uses some elements sourced from the Mucyo report.
[76]
Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux,” 132.
[77]
Among politicians, while Alain Juppé hailed the Duclert report and called for recognition of the mistakes made (Alain Juppé, “Alain Juppé sur le Rwanda: ‘Nous n’avons pas compris qu’un génocide ne pouvait supporter des demi-mesures,’” Le Monde, April 7, 2021), Hubert Védrine, after initially more or less welcoming the report, later sharply criticized its conclusions in several interviews. Institut François Mitterrand, directed by Hubert Védrine, also echoed exclusively critical texts about the Duclert report (See: https://www.mitterrand.org).
[78]
See, for example: Jean-Baptiste Naudet, “Général Christian Quesnot, ex-chef d’état-major de Mitterrand: ‘Le rapport sur le Rwanda est partiel et partial,’” L’Obs, May 16, 2021. Alternatively, see the texts by Bernard Lugan and Jacques Hogard shared by Association France Turquoise on its website. For a confrontation between General Quesnot and General Varret, see Jean-Baptiste Naudet, “Rwanda: Le baroud d’honneur des généraux français,” L’Obs, July 25, 2021.
[79]
See the piece by Thomas Borrel in this issue.
[80]
Judging by the reception of the Duclert report, divisions within academia have not substantially evolved. We again find Filip Reyntjens, Claudine Vidal, Marc Le Pape, André Guichaoua, and Serge Dupuis among those criticizing the RPF, who had supposedly been so overlooked by the Duclert report, and recognizing the report’s contributions to varying degrees when bringing nuance to or rejecting accusations against France. See: Serge Dupuis et al., “Réflexions sur le rapport Duclert,” Fondation Jean Jaurès, 2022, accessed October 19, 2022, https://www.jean-jaures.org/publication/reflexions-sur-le-rapport-duclert/; Serge Dupuis, “Ce que dit et ne dit pas le rapport Duclert,” Fondation Jean Jaurès, February 24, 2022, accessed October 19, 2022, https://www.jean-jaures.org/publication/ce-que-dit-et-ne-dit-pas-le-rapport-duclert/. On the other hand, François Robinet and Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau accept elements of the report that confirm some of the hypotheses of earlier works and that discuss the remaining grey areas. François Robinet, “Rwanda 1994: Un rapport pour l’Histoire?” Études 7–8 (2021): 7–18; Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau, “Commission de recherche sur les archives françaises relatives au Rwanda et au génocide des Tutsi,” Revue d’histoire de la Shoah 214 (2021): I-V. On the reception of the Duclert report within academia, see issues of Revue d’histoire contemporaine de l’Afrique (particularly the following special issue: Camille Evrard et al., “Au-delà du rapport Duclert. Décentrer l’histoire du génocide des Tutsi,” [2021]) and the journal Esprit (Antoine Garapon, Joël Hubrecht, and Emmanuel Laurentin, eds., “Leçons rwandaises,” 478 [2021]), as well as the article by Mathilde Beaufils in this issue.
[81]
The first session of the “International conference on the genocide against the Tutsis of Rwanda,” organized by a research team created by the Duclert commission, was held from September 11 to September 19, 2022, in Rwanda.
[82]
The first research team (Cesspra/EHESS) was headed by Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau and Hélène Dumas; the RwandaMAP2020 team (https://rwandamap.hypotheses.org/) was coordinated on the French side by François Robinet and Rémi Korman (and linked to the Centre d’histoire culturelle des sociétés contemporaines [Center for Cultural History of Contemporary Societies] at the University of Versailles Saint-Quentin-en-Yvelines). These research teams were not structured in the traditional “Africanist” departments.
[83]
Here, we only list the PhDs in social sciences completed in French in France, Belgium, or Canada, and based on fieldwork in Rwanda. Among these, we note two PhDs defended at Sciences Po Paris (Ceri), whose authors did not remain in academia: Pierre-Antoine Braud, L’ordre de la violence: Ordre politique, historicité des violences et gestion des conflits au Rwanda et au Burundi dans les années 1990 (Paris: Institut d’études politiques, 2005); Emmanuel Viret, Les habits de la foule: Techniques de gouvernement, clientèles sociales et violence au Rwanda rural (1963–1994) (Paris: Institut d’études politiques, 2011).
[84]
The intellectual heritage of Jean-Pierre Chrétien is central in this regard. See: Jean-Pierre Chrétien, Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau, and Hélène Dumas, “Un historien face au génocide des Tutsi,” Vingtième siècle 122 (2014): 23–35.
[85]
With the exception of Florent Piton, whose was submitted at Centre d’études en sciences sociales sur les mondes africains, américains et asiatiques (Cessma) (The Center for Social Science Studies of the African, American and Asian World) and was supervised by Africanists and whose institutional inclusion uses classic Africanist channels (Association des chercheurs de Politique africaine, revue RHCA, etc.) among others. He also wrote the reference book, Le génocide des Tutsi du Rwanda (Paris: La Découverte, 2018).
[86]
Claudine Vidal and Marc Le Pape, eds., “Les politiques de la haine: Rwanda-Burundi, 1994–1995,” Les temps modernes 583 (1995); Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau and Antoine Garapon, eds., “France-Rwanda: Et maintenant?” Esprit 364 (2010); José Kagabo, eds., “Le génocide des Tutsi, 1994–2014. Quelle histoire? Quelle mémoire?” Les temps modernes 680–81 (2014); Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau and Hélène Dumas, eds., “Le génocide des Tutsi rwandais, vingt ans après,” Vingtième siècle 122 (2014); Garapon et al. eds., “Leçons rwandaises.” In the case of Politique africaine, see the textbox below.
[87]
See the joint editorial from both journals in 2021 announcing this initiative: “Éditorial: Collaboration trans-revues RHCA et Sources sur l’histoire du génocide des Tutsi du Rwanda,” accessed October 2, 2022, https://oap.unige.ch/journals/rhca/announcement/view/15; Camille Evrard et al., eds., “Au-delà du rapport Duclert. Décentrer l’histoire du génocide des Tutsi”; Paul Rutayisire et al. “Écrire l’histoire du génocide des Tutsi au Rwanda à partir de sources locales. Entretien avec Paul Rutayisire, Charles Kabwete Mulinda et Philibert Gakwenzire,” Sources 3 (2021): 257–81.
[88]
Benjamin Chemouni, ed., “Rwanda. L’État depuis le génocide,” Politique africaine 160 (2020).
[89]
This question ultimately arises in the study of all French military intervention in Africa, when Parisian bureaucratic struggles prove to be more decisive than the local context in which the intervention takes place. For a more recent collective investigation of French intervention in Mali, see: Grégory Daho, Florent Pouponneau, and Johanna Siméant-Germanos, eds., Entrer en guerre au Mali. Luttes politiques et bureaucratiques autour de l’intervention française (Paris: Rue d’Ulm, 2022).
[90]
Here we are referring to the controversy caused by the noninclusion of Hélène Dumas and Stéphane Audoin-Rouzeau and not the subsequent controversy, which was of a different nature, relating to the presence of Julie d’Andurain. On these events, see the article by Mathilde Beaufils in this issue.
[91]
See the article by Thomas Borrel in this issue.
[92]
Martin Mourre, Florent Piton, Nathaniel Powell, and Romain Tiquet, eds., “Enquêter sur la France au Rwanda en contexte militant. Entretien avec François Graner,” Revue d’histoire contemporaine de l’Afrique (2021): 102–117.
[93]
The activist world itself is anything but monolithic. Disagreements and debates, which are occasionally heated, have existed (the 2004 CEC itself attests to this) and continue to exist between the NGO Survie (which itself is sometimes divided) and the most hardline collectives (such as Izuba/La nuit rwandaise).
[94]
See the article by Thomas Borrel in this issue.
[95]
The one receiving the most media coverage was undeniably that of Félicien Kabuga, actively pursued by international justice, in May 2020 in the Paris region. On these proceedings, see the account prepared by the CPCR (https://www.collectifpartiescivilesrwanda.fr/tableau-des-plaintes-du-cpcr/) and the account by its president, Alain Gauthier, “Le témoignage au service de la justice. L’expérience du collectif des parties civiles pour le Rwanda en France,” Les temps modernes 680–81 (2014): 238–47.
[96]
Appeals are ongoing for the latter two trials.
[97]
The defense in these trials can, for example, take advantage of the controversy in France (which does not exist in other countries) to try to muddy the waters when it comes to the facts of the genocide.
[98]
Piotr Smolar, “En France, les avocats s’emparent du rapport Duclert sur le Rwanda,” Le Monde, April 23, 2021.
[99]
Gaïdz Minassian and Pierre Lepidi, “Vincent Duclert: ‘Le dossier rwandais a été contaminé par le mensonge, la manipulation et la passion,’” Le Monde, March 26, 2021.
[100]
Fabrice Arfi, “Génocide des Tutsis: Une juge cherche la clé d’une mission secrète dans les archives de l’Élysée,” Mediapart, September 3, 2022.
[101]
Ibuka was approached for their perspective for this issue, but it was not possible to hold the interview.
[102]
Patrice Sartre, “La décision politique dans les engagements militaires de la France,” Études 12 (2021): 17–28; Robinet, “Rwanda 1994: Un rapport pour l’Histoire?”: 17.
[103]
Alain Ricard, “Nécessité du travail de mémoire,” Politique africaine 55 (1994): 111–15.
[104]
Filip Reyntjens, “Cooptation politique à l’envers: Les législatives de 1988 au Rwanda,” Politique africaine, 34 (1989): 121–26; Filip Reyntjens, “Le gacaca ou la justice du gazon au Rwanda,” Politique africaine 40 (1990): 31–41.
[105]
Jean-Pierre Chrétien, “Le défi de l’intégrisme ethnique dans l’historiographie africaniste. Le cas du Rwanda et du Burundi,” Politique africaine 46 (1991): 71–83; Jean-Pierre Chrétien, “‘Presse libre’ et propagande raciste au Rwanda. Kangura et ‘les 10 commandements du Hutu,’” Politique africaine 42 (1991): 109–20.
[106]
Michel Elias and Danielle Helbig, “Deux mille collines pour les petits et les grands. Radioscopie des stéréotypes hutu et tutsi au Rwanda et au Burundi,” Politique africaine 42 (1991): 65–73; Danielle Helbig, “Rwanda: De la dictature populaire à la démocratie athénienne,” Politique africaine 44 (1991): 97–101.
[107]
Gérard Prunier, “Éléments pour une histoire du Front patriotique rwandais,” Politique africaine 51 (1993): 121–38.
[108]
Jean-Christophe Ferney [pseudonym], “La France au Rwanda: Raison du prince, déraison d’État,” Politique africaine 51 (1993): 170–75. The use of a pseudonym in this piece is itself illustrative of the sensitive nature of the subject since that time.
[109]
Chrétien, “Rwanda. La responsabilité de la France.”
[110]
Jean-Claude Willame, “Diplomatie internationale et génocide au Rwanda,” Politique africaine 55 (1994): 116–31. The article revisits the criticism made against Belgium, France, and the UN.
[111]
Jean-Pierre Pabanel, “Bilan de la deuxième République rwandaise: Du modèle de développement à la violence générale,” Politique africaine 57 (1995): 112–23, [dating from April 1994].
[112]
Gauthier de Villers, “L’‘africanisme’ belge face aux problèmes d’interprétation de la tragédie rwandaise,” Politique africaine 59 (1995): 121–32.
[113]
Bernault, “La communauté africaniste française au crible de la crise rwandaise,” 112.
[114]
Ibid., 112–13.
[115]
André Guichaoua, “La réaffirmation des pouvoirs d’État dans la région des Grands Lacs,” Politique africaine, 68 (1997): 40–50.
[116]
Jean-Hervé Bradol and Claudine Vidal, “Les attitudes humanitaires dans la région des Grands Lacs,” Politique africaine 68 (1997): 69–77.
[117]
Éric Gillet, “Les droits de l’homme et la justice pour fonder l’avenir,” Politique africaine 68 (1997): 61–68.
[118]
Luc Cambrézy, “Un aspect méconnu de la crise rwandaise, les réfugiés de Nairobi,” Politique africaine 68 (1997): 134–41.
[119]
Jean-Pierre Getti, “Un tribunal pour quoi faire? Le Tribunal pénal international pour le Rwanda (TPIR) et la poursuite des crimes contre l’humanité,” Politique africaine 68 (1997): 51–60; Marc-Antoine Pérouse de Montclos, “Les séquelles d’un génocide: Quelle justice pour les Rwandais?” Politique africaine 69 (1998): 109–18.
[120]
“Questions aux membres de la ‘Mission d’information sur les opérations militaires menées par la France, d’autres pays et l’ONU au Rwanda entre 1990 et 1994,’” Politique africaine 72 (1998): 194–202. The signatories were ACF, Amnesty, Agir ici, CCFD, FIDH, LDH, MSF, OPCF, Survie, Jean-François Bayart, Rony Brauman, André Guichaoua, Elikia M’Bokolo, Yves Ternon, and Claudine Vidal.
[121]
“Rwanda. Réflexions sur les rapports parlementaires de la Belgique et de la France,” Politique africaine 73 (1999): 159–76 (with contributions from Jean-Pierre Chrétien, Jean-Claude Willame, and Marc Le Pape).
[122]
Jean-Pierre Chrétien and Eugénie Gatari, “Le TPIR en question: Deux témoignages,” Politique africaine 87 (2002): 185–91; Danielle de Lame, “Deuil, commémoration, justice dans les contextes rwandais et belge. Otages existentiels et enjeux politiques,” Politique africaine 92 (2003): 39–55.
[123]
Bernard Leloup, “Tentatives croisées de déstabilisation dans l’Afrique des Grands Lacs. Le contentieux rwando-ougandais,” Politique africaine 96 (2004): 119–38.
[124]
“Il y a dix ans, le génocide au Rwanda,” Politique africaine 93 (2004): 4.
[125]
See especially: “Autour d’un livre. Vansina (Jan), Le Rwanda ancien. Le Royaume nyiginya, Paris, Karthala, 2001, 289 pages,” Politique africaine 83 (2001) 151–60 (with contributions from David Newbury, Jean-Pierre Chrétien, and Danielle de Lame; “Autour d’un livre. Jacques Sémelin, Purifier et détruire. Usages politiques des massacres et génocides, Paris, Le Seuil, coll. ‘La couleur des idées,’ 2005, 485 pages,” Politique africaine 101 (2006): 195–208 (with a contribution from Pierre-Antoine Braud, Élisabeth Claverie, and Scott Straus); Jean-Pierre Chrétien and Marcel Kabanda, “Chronique bibliographique. Débats sur le Rwanda quinze ans après,” Politique africaine 115 (2009): 211–20.
[126]
Chrétien, “France et Rwanda: Le cercle vicieux.”
[127]
Thomas Riot, “Les politiques de ‘loisir’ et le génocide des Tutsi rwandais. Du racisme culturel aux donjons de la mémoire (1957–2013),” Politique africaine 133 (2014): 131–51; Thomas Riot, Nicolas Bancel, and Paul Rutayisire, “Un art guerrier aux frontières des Grands Lacs. Aux racines dansées du Front patriotique rwandais,” Politique africaine 147 (2017): 109–34.
[128]
Molly Sundberg, “Par le corps et pour l’État: L’itorero et les techniques réflexives du corps au Rwanda,” Politique africaine 147 (2017): 23–43.
[129]
Benjamin Chemouni, ed., “Rwanda. L’État depuis le génocide.”

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Politique africaine 2022/2 No 166

Journal article

Introduction to the topic. The France-Rwanda dispute (1994-2022)

Notes

Thirty years of controversy in France

1994–1998: From denial to soul-searching

1998–2004: Media obscurity and parallel investigations

2004–2007: The flare up and the breaking off of diplomatic relations

2007–2017: The first steps toward a reconciliation and failed attempts at normalization

2017–2022: A thawing of relations through historical research?

What next? The academic, military, and legal consequences

Africanists and the Duclert commission: An opportunity for dialogue missed then taken up?

Researchers and activists: A complicated association?

Rwanda in the French courts

Politique africaine and Rwanda: A review

Notes

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Politique africaine 2022/2 No 166

Journal article

Introduction to the topic. The France-Rwanda dispute (1994-2022)

Cite this article

Notes

Thirty years of controversy in France

1994–1998: From denial to soul-searching

1998–2004: Media obscurity and parallel investigations

2004–2007: The flare up and the breaking off of diplomatic relations

2007–2017: The first steps toward a reconciliation and failed attempts at normalization

2017–2022: A thawing of relations through historical research?

What next? The academic, military, and legal consequences

Africanists and the Duclert commission: An opportunity for dialogue missed then taken up?

Researchers and activists: A complicated association?

Rwanda in the French courts

Politique africaine and Rwanda: A review

Notes

Shortcuts

Areas

Cairn.info

Languages

Supported by

Find Cairn.info (in French) on

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