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Analysis Does Africas agony tell us anything about
ourselves?
By RAYMOND A. SCHROTH
I usually have a fairly strong
stomach for watching and reading tragedy and atrocity news. So battered corpses
dragged through the streets by angry mobs, exhumed bodies rotting in the sun,
wreckage of crashed airliners strewn over a mountainside, mothers and wives
wailing hysterically over the remains of their husbands and sons killed in
battle may move me to moral indignation, but, filtered as they are through the
mass media, they dont create anywhere near the visceral effect of real
life.
Then I saw on the front page of The New York Times
for Jan. 26 the color photo of the bandaged man in Sierra Leone and the story
of the rebels who had chopped off his hands. My mind raced back a year to a
similar story where the victim poured out his utter helplessness: He could not
dress himself, could not feed himself, could not wipe himself when he went to
the toilet.
The man in the Times is Mohammed Sesay, 29, one among the
thousands shot dead and hundreds mutilated within a few days by the rebels
retreating from Freetown. He had pleaded with the rebels to kill him, but they
preferred to leave him as an object of terror -- to the people of Sierra Leone,
to their president and to you and me. That day the hospital surgeons, finishing
off the rebels hurried and sometimes incomplete work, performed so many
amputations they had to just toss the severed hands into a common bucket.
The Travel section in the Sunday New York Times a month
later warms us with visions of the Africa that affluent Americans, ever in
search of new exotic thrills, have come to love. Now that the safari business
is booming, game reserves all over South Africa offer a variety of lodges
featuring luxurious thatched bungalows and swimming pools. On the island of
Nosy Mangabe in northeastern Madagascar, a naturalists paradise, we can
watch the lemurs dance. In Ugandas Bwindi National Park, we can come
face-to-face with mountain gorillas.
One problem: the State Department advises that because of the war
in Sudan, travel near the Sudan-Uganda border can get you robbed or killed.
Ugandas Bwindi National Park was considered safe until March
1, when around 100 Rwandan Hutu rebels attacked a tourist camp in the park,
killing four Ugandan park employees and taking 14 people -- mainly U.S. and
British citizens -- captive. Hours later, eight of the tourists were killed by
the guerrillas who had crossed the border into Uganda. The Ugandan government
has suspended treks in two national parks.
As of March 8, the Ugandan army said 25 of the rebels responsible
for the murders had been hunted down and killed. Officials from the U.S.
Federal Bureau of Investigation and Britains Scotland Yard have joined
the investigation into the killings.
Hutus led massacre
The Hutu rebels led the massacre of 800,000 ethnic Tutsis and
moderate Hutus in Rwanda in 1994. They were forced into exile by the Tutsi-led
army that seized power in Rwanda. The rebels have continued the war from their
base in the Democratic Republic of Congo, carrying out raids in southwestern
Uganda.
The tourists who survived the early March attack were released
with a warning to the West to cease support for the Ugandan and Rwandan
governments.
President Clinton said the U.S. government was not intimidated.
We will not forget these crimes, nor rest until those who committed them
are brought to justice, he said March 4. If this attack was
intended as a warning to our nation to stop supporting those in the region
seeking reconciliation and justice, those who committed it should understand
that we will not be deterred in any way.
But now, as I work my way painfully through my 15 magazine
subscriptions and sit stunned watching the recent Frontline report
Triumph of Evil, on the Western worlds non-response to the
slaughters in Rwanda, and preview the upcoming Bill Moyers documentary
Facing the Truth, on the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in
South Africa, the words darkest Africa, sin, and community
responsibility take on new definition.
Triumph of Evil first aired on Public Television Jan.
26 (check local listings for additional showings). Facing the Truth
is scheduled to air March 30.
One can begin reading and watching these reports aghast at the
barbaric behavior of primitive peoples apparently still mired in an era when
men can look other human beings in the eye and then apparently enjoy hacking
off their arms, legs and heads. But we end up turning inward and asking what
Africa tells us about ourselves.
Three themes stand out. First, the metaphor of
darkness, applied to Africa, is richly ambiguous. We owe it
originally to the journalist-explorer Sir Henry Morton Stanley, whom the New
York Herald sent to find the lost explorer-missionary, Dr.
David Livingstone, in Central Africa in 1871. Stanleys book In Darkest
Africa (1890) conditioned the Western world to look on Africa as a place
where the white man could shine light. Yet, Joseph Conrads Africa story,
Heart of Darkness, locates the darkness in the Western white mans
heart.
Second, we see the times -- for example, in Rwanda and the Sudan
and in the case of the child soldiers of Sierra Leone -- when the West, in a
conscious preference for its own convenience, not because of indifference and
not out of concern for national security, has refused to accept an obvious
international responsibility.
Finally, in its agonizing re-examination of its apartheid years,
it is possible that South Africa, once the sanctioned pariah of the world
community, now has something to teach us.
My country and its media have fed themselves at the trough of
domestic scandal for over a year, and media critics have warned us that a lot
else was happening more worthy of notice. Editorials have reminded us that
there were worse sins than adultery and lying -- like abortion, capital
punishment and grinding down the poor. Im sure those sins would include
cutting off the hands of your enemies -- and how about standing by, minding our
own business and growing fat while, thanks to TV and photography, Sierra Leone
is happening right before our eyes?
Jan Goodwin, in Sierra Leone is No Place to be Young,
in the Feb. 14 issue of The New York Times magazine, points out that
many of the butchers are children, some as young as 7 years old. Children make
up an estimated 40 to 50 percent of the insurgents total force of about
15,000.
An estimated 300,000 child soldiers have fought around the world
-- in Angola, Liberia, Mozambique, Rwanda, Sudan, Congo, Uganda and Sierra
Leone -- in recent years. One 13-year-old describes his induction at age 10.
The rebel commander brought him 10 people from his village, handed him a gun,
put a gun to his head and ordered him to fire or be killed himself. Shaking,
the boy fired and fired, and watched them fall and take a long time to die,
twitching at his feet. Then he vomited. He now has no idea, he says, of how
many people he has killed.
Indoctrinating children
A government-recruited child soldier has been indoctrinated to
believe he has a supernatural power to ward off bullets when he marches naked
in front of the troops, to protect them by drawing fire away from
adult soldiers.
Any attempt to protect children from this way of life by
international treaty has failed. The United States has declined to ratify the
Convention on the Rights of the Child, because it would raise the legal age
limit for combat from 15 to 18. According to Goodwin, The Pentagon
opposes the change, even though 17-year-olds represent less than one-half of 1
percent of active U.S. troops.
In March 1998, when the Monica Lewinsky scandal was gathering
steam, Bill Clinton, like so many of his predecessors, took off, boosting his
ratings and distracting the press, on a world trip. For an hour and a half Air
Force One remained on the ground at Rwandas Kigali airport, where Clinton
presented Rwandas president with a plaque to commemorate all those
who perished in the Rwandan genocide.
The title of the Frontline report Triumph of
Evil, is an allusion to Edmund Burkes aphorism that all that is
necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.
It may seem strange to you here, Clinton said, but
people like himself sat in their offices day after day and didnt
fully appreciate what was happening. It is the hard-hitting
Frontline thesis, though they are too polite to use the word, that
this is all lies, lies, lies, lies. And they document in on-the-record
interviews from those involved that both the Clinton administration and the
United Nations were fully aware of the extent of the carnage, as the majority
Hutus hacked over 800,000 Tutsis to death within 100 days, killing sometimes as
many as 10,000 a day.
Perhaps, of course, Clinton was engaged in his masterly
word-parsing: Whether one could fully appreciate anything happening
on the other side of the world depends on what we mean by
fully.
On April 6, 1994, the plane carrying the presidents of Rwanda and
Burundi, who had been involved in peace talks between the Hutus and the Tutsis,
crashed, shot down by missiles. The Hutus took this as a signal to commence the
genocide they had already planned. Philip Gourevitch, New Yorker writer
and author of We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our
Families, explains that, following the presidents death, the
Hutu-controlled Rwanda radio station became almost Genocide
Central. People were instructed to go out and kill. Disk
jockeys would interrupt their patter to tell listeners that so-and-so was
headed down such-and-such street, and the listeners should head him off and
kill him quick.
Thousands of would-be victims fled to U.N. camps hoping for
protection -- including the St. Don Bosco School, where they dreamed they would
be safe. The U.N. troops responsible for their safety were Belgians. But at
that moment the Belgian foreign ministry was calling around the world, lobbying
U.N. ambassadors to pull the whole U.N. peacekeeping force out of the country.
In New York, the American U.N. ambassador, Madeline Albright, went along. The
fear of another Somalia flop was more than she could handle.
At Don Bosco, the Belgian troops had been saving the lives of
2,000 Tutsis. On April 11 they were ordered to leave. The natives, knowing they
would be hacked to death by Hutu machetes, echoing the plea of Mohammed Sesay
in Sierra Leone, pleaded with the U.N. troops to kill them first: Please,
we ask you to shoot us down by your machine gun.
Facing the consequences
We see clips of both Clinton and Vice President Gore speaking at
the Holocaust Museum in 1993 and 1994, swearing that evil must be
combated and contained. The memorial, said Gore, must remind
those who make the agonizing decisions of foreign policy of the consequences of
their decisions.
In fact, at the height of the slaughter, when it was obvious that
only international intervention could stop the genocide, the administration was
considering the consequences of their decisions. The consequences for the
Democratic administration. There were Congressional elections coming up and
they thought it wouldnt look good for the administration to be involved
in some no-win foreign crisis.
When it became obvious that this was truly a genocide, the U.N.
and American reaction was to refuse to call it a genocide. A genocide would
require them to act. Frontline clips show a State Department
functionary squirming, wiggling, crawling, refusing to say it was a
genocide, obviously ordered by her superiors to reject that naughty
word. Then Clinton would be free to use the magic word at the airport after it
was too late. And if he had known what was going on, he would have done
something about it.
Meanwhile, The New Yorkers William Finnegan was
trucking south across the desert wilderness of Sudan. Most Americans know about
Sudan from the impeachment-eve air raid the United States launched against a
pharmaceutical plant in Khartoum, which, all the evidence now indicates, was
not making the warfare germs we said justified the raid.
More important, Sudan is embroiled in what Finnegan calls an
obscure, chaotic and low-tech ... civil war ... a disaster of historic
proportions. So far it has killed more than 2 million people, mostly in
the South, one of the least accessible and poorest regions of the world. The
North, headquartered in Khartoum, apparently one of the worlds ugliest
cities, is Arab, or radical Muslim. Once the radicals gained power
in 1969, they subjected the whole population to Muslim punishments, like
amputation and stoning to death for adultery and drinking alcohol. In the
southern third of the country, rebels, the Sudanese Peoples Liberation
Army, exercise some form of control.
But, in the last few years, the g-word -- genocide -- is settling
in over the landscape. Nearly 2 million Southerners have died, either killed in
battle or by starvation or disease.
In a project called Operation Lifeline Sudan, the West has poured
in humanitarian aid to keep the population from starving. Some economists argue
persuasively that the food shipments prolong the war, because the political
powers inevitably control the food distribution, feeding their armies first,
leaving it to the international community to feed their people and using
government treasuries to buy guns and ammo.
Sudans oil
Finnegan visits a Dinka village in the mountains, where the
Arabs have burned the town and sent its people into slavery.
An educated Dinka gentleman who listens to the BBC World Service tells him he
cannot understand how a great country like America wastes its time on Monica
Lewinsky when it should be using its energies to bring all parties to a peace
conference on Sudan.
Finnegan concludes, sadly, that the status quo of pouring
humanitarian relief into a split, warring Sudan -- since we consider Sudan an
unfriendly regime -- is more to our benefit than peace. One analyst
suggests that the West might become interested in Sudans oil in 30 years
and that Sudan should therefore expect its civil war to last till
then.
A recent book on Africa considers the emergence of the new
post-apartheid regime in South Africa to be the one sign of hope on a continent
of tears. Indeed, if there is a source of hope in a dark continent,
Bill Moyers is the one to find it. And The Truth and Reconciliation Commission,
established by the Nelson Mandela government to force the country to come to
terms with its own recent history, is a made-for-Moyers subject. To enter into
the spirit of the documentary, Facing the Truth, it helps to be a
Christian or at least to see how the human acts of confession and
reconciliation fit on ones Judeo-Christian or secular humanist moral
blackboard.
I recently read a review of a book featuring the story of a dying
Nazi SS officer who called a prominent Jewish man to his bedside and begged to
be forgiven for his part in the Holocaust. The Jew left in silence. Those who
commented on the story shrank from judgment. Who are we to say someone else
should forgive if that is not part of his religion? My own feeling is that if
we cannot forgive, we are lost forever, doomed to wallow in self-destructive
hate.
A significant part of South Africas leadership -- black,
white and colored -- seems to agree. The commission investigates human rights
violations between 1960 and 1994, and offers amnesty to those violators who
come forward, honestly confess their crimes and sincerely ask for forgiveness.
The commission, chaired by Archbishop Desmond Tutu, listens and weighs each
case. Of 21,000 witnesses, Moyers camera crews and producers have
followed up on some of the most poignant stories -- particularly those that
reinforce the themes of conversion and redemption.
The process does not all go smoothly. Hundreds of black women have
lost their husbands and sons, many young men who left home in the morning and
just didnt come home at night. Typically, the security forces had singled
them out as potential troublemakers, abducted them, trucked them to a country
road or a beach, drugged them, shot them in the head and then burned their
bodies or blew up their corpses in a vehicle. As the bodies burned, the police
sat around having a picnic, laughing, eating sausage, drinking beer.
The women are not satisfied in simply finding out at a public
forum what happened; they want the police to come and look them in the face and
apologize personally. They must also find the graves, dig up the bones and wail
their grief to the winds.
White victims feel the same way. In 1993, three guerrillas of the
Pan-African Congress burst into St. James Church, threw a grenade and opened
fire, killing 11 whites. The husband of a murdered woman, tears streaming down
his face, demands that each of three young black terrorists in the dock look
him in the face and apologize.
When the four police who killed Steve Biko, leader of the black
consciousness movement, in 1977, come forward, his family is particularly
forgiving. Bikos son had been striving for 20 years to find out how his
father died. The police -- who beat Biko brutally, drove him shackled naked in
a truck to a hospital and dumped him -- still wont accept responsibility
for Bikos death. In a ruling published Feb. 17, after the Moyers
documentary was completed, the commission concluded that the police lied and
had not admitted to any crime. No cheap grace.
Most appalling are the police pleaders, in court and interviewed
by Moyers, who still do not get it. They were following orders, simply doing
what they knew their superiors -- all the way up to the top -- would want them
to do. One killer says he murdered a teenage black boy because he was sure that
otherwise the boy would grow up to be a terrorist. Cant have
that, can we?
Poor F.W. de Klerk, who deserves credit for allowing apartheid to
die, is not convincing when he insists that, yes, he knew his police were tough
but never knew they engaged in torture and murder. Moyers producers
undermine de Klerks credibility simply by showing him seated next to his
predecessor, the unrepentant apartheid master P.W. Botha, whose command,
Eliminate them, the security forces knew just how to carry out.
High crime rates
One of the most inspiring people we meet is Albie Sachs, now a
judge, a white former civil rights activist, long imprisoned by the regime, who
lost his arm in a car bomb explosion in 1988. We see his charred, shredded body
rolling in the street. But he has never lusted for revenge. He likes to say he
95 percent survived.
To do to someone else what they did to me, he says,
thats not going to make my arm grow.
The year apartheid died, I traveled for several weeks in South
Africa, in Zululand, Johannesburg, Pretoria and Capetown. It is surely one of
the most beautiful countries in the world, and its people are among the most
inspiring for their ability to survive a political and economic system that has
ground them down for generations.
But, though more people now have electricity and clean water,
according to Moyers report and to other reports, the shantytowns and much
of the misery they represent remain. As the new nation prepares for its second
post-apartheid election in May, the biggest problems are one of the
worlds highest crime rates and unemployment. The 13 percent white
minority still controls 90 percent of the capital, 95 percent of industry and
most of the land.
Moyers interviews elite white university students who are not
anxious to take responsibility for the crimes of their ancestors -- which they
didnt know about. This affirmative action stuff, they say, is
going too far.
Epilogue. On Feb. 18, in the small West African village of
Hollande Bouru, Guinea, 1,500 relatives and friends came together to lower
Amadou Diallo, in a plain wood coffin, which had just brought his body from the
United States, into his native earth. Diallo had never lived here, but his
family had founded this prosperous little village of thatched and concrete
huts. So this was in death where he belonged.
Two weeks before, this mild-mannered, pious Muslim Bronx street
vendor had been shot down in his own doorway -- literally pinned to the wall by
a hail of 41 bullets pouring from the guns of four policemen who blasted away
at this harmless, unarmed young man for reasons we do not yet know. Two years
before he had come to America to get an education; but lacking a high school
transcript and a work permit, he lived on $20 a day earned from selling socks
and videos on the street. Like the South African women at the graves of their
murdered sons, his mother, led to his Bronx, brick doorway, collapsed in grief,
crying out his name.
What all this means to Africans in the United States depends on
whom you ask. His mother told the Times, Amadou was from Guinea,
but now Amadou is from the whole world because the whole world is sympathizing
with us. But a fellow immigrant had said a few days before, I think
I might have to go back to Africa. If I stay here, I might be killed.
Jesuit Fr. Raymond A. Schroth, Fordhams assistant dean,
is working on a history of Fordham University. He writes regularly for NCR
on media and culture.
National Catholic Reporter, March 19,
1999
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