The Populist Review

Bush Policy Behind Mayhem in Somalia

   As Americans race from mall to mall in a last-ditch effort to feather their nests for the holiday, the Union of Islamic Courts (UIC), an Islamic group that’s vowed to bring Somalia under Quranic rule, is advancing steadily on the city of Baidoa, the last stonghold of the country’s secular government. And with artillery fire lighting the night sky, residents, still drenched from November’s unprecedented floods, are fleeing their homes in droves. Yet for many, the time to escape has already passed. The UIC has vowed to drive the Ethiopian-backed government from power, and if their successful seige of the capital this past June is any indication, they’ll probably keep their promise.

   All this, of course, should be a monumental embarassment to the Bush Administration―if they’re capable of such reactions―because it was their myopic policy that led to this political, humanitarian, and wholly avoidable disaster.

   In 1994, after our failed attempt to nab warlord, Mohammed Farah Aidid and his clan―a debacle in which 18 Army Rangers were killed and upon which the movie, Black Hawk Down, was based―Congress cut funding for our military adventures in Somalia. With our withdrawal to Kenya, the warlords and their unpaid troops terrorized the countryside and raped, kidnapped, and murdered the citizens of Mogudishu with the help of an army of drug-addled street kids called mooryan. Six months later, in attempt to extend their influence, the warlords beseiged Baidoa, kidnapping international relief workers and destroying their equipment. The move signalled the end of humanitarian assistance to the region and prompted the government in exile (the TFG in Nairobi) to declare an all-out war. But with no army at their disposal, except a tribal militia called the Majertine, the government’s threat was quickly dismissed.

   In 1996, U.N. forces left Somalia, and in the summer the warlord we failed to interdict died in a gunfight. His son, an ex-Marine, took the helm and Islamic groups formed in opposition.

   By 2002, those groups had congealed into the UIC, and when suspected Islamic radicals attacked a hotel and Israeli aircraft in Kenya that year, the U.S. embarked on a different tack. The Ethiopian Prime Minister, Meles Zenawi, and Kenyan President, Daniel arap Moi,  were invited to discuss the situation with President Bush in the Oval Office. After the meeting, Bush hailed the two leaders as “friends and allies of America” despite Zenawi’s abysmal record on human rights which included widespread torture, extrajudicial killings, and arbitrary political impriosnment (and, later, suspending elections and the murder of 42 political dissidents). But Bush was enthusiastic, and shortly thereafter announced the establishment of an anti-terrorism task force in Ethiopia (at Djibouti) with a total of 1,600 troops. Bush’s obsession that the UIC would turn Somalia into a sanctuary for Al Qaeda terrorists and that the Taliban were rife throughout the region would soon manifest into a series of political blunders.

   In fact, there’s no evidence the Taliban ever directly influenced the UIC or that Al Qaeda operatives ever used the region as a sanctuary (with a few notable exceptions). And despite token similarities to the Taliban, the Islamic movement began as a moderate tribal federation, subject to the vagaries of tribal and ideological tradition. 

 

   But that moderation would soon change.

 

   In January of this year, Washington announced that it was willing to work with anyone who would cooperate in their hunt for Al Qaeda operatives. The warlords perked up their ears. Hungry for cash and anxious to counter the increasing threat from the TFG and Islamic Courts―not to mention their reluctance to end their lucrative crime spree―the warlords (in league with the CIA) entered the anti-terrorist business by creating the Alliance for the Restoration of Peace and Counter-Terrorism.

   Sure it was a stretch, coming from a band of barbaric henchmen like the Somali warlords. But if the CIA was willing to hand over cash―and they were, large bundles of cash delivered right to the warlords’ airstrip―why not?

   Thus began our latest undocumented―and by all accounts, uncoordinated―collusion with the world's most unsavory thugs.

   Of course, when word of the CIA payments got back to the UIC, there was no more talk of moderation. They struck the capital with everything they had. And the seige lasted three bloody months.

  Recognizing their blunder, the Bush Administration tried to excuse the subterfuge (which breached international law)  in a series of statements that culminated in a galling response from Sean McCormack, spokesman for the U.S. State Department: “Our interest is purely in seeing Somalia have a better day.” They then established an ad hoc emergency body to analyze the situation, the Somali Contact Group.  But, though the group consisted of august members from the Arab League, the African Union, the United Nations, the Interdevelopmental Authority for Development (IGAD), the European Union, Norway, and even Tanzania, it was regarded by most as mere window dressing. The group had no decision-making powers and the time had clearly run out for brainstorming sessions―especially with Eritrea and Ethiopia gearing up for a showdown. The battle lines had been drawn and arms began pouring into the region like the torrential rain. Eritrea supplied the UIC, as they hated Ethiopia. Ethiopia supplied the TFG as they hated the UIC. Egypt and Yemen supplied the TFG while Saudi Arabia, always one to hedge their bet, supplied the UIC and the warlords. Perhaps the only thing they all had in common was (and remains) their denial of any involvement in the conflict. No one wants to be caught breaching international law. Heavens forbid!

   As so in June, the warlords paid by the CIA to ostensibly track down Al Qaeda operatives, found themselves driven from the capital by an Islamic federation that may well have remained less militant had we not pushed the envelope.  And tonight, a night when most Americans sit lazily at their televisions, stockings draped across their mantles in anticipation of the holidays, the UIC make their final push to the south and a desperate throng of refugees make their way to the coast (as they do by the hundreds each day). And there, in rat-infested towns like Bossasso, they cram themselves and their familes into boats, if they have the 75 bucks, and take their chances on the treacherous seas of the Gulf of Aden with a hundred other desperate emigres who have nothing left in the world, en route to a country that may well turn them back if they make it alive: Yemen―a country most Americans can't even find on a map. One can only hope the incoming House Intelligence Committee finds the time and the inclination to open a full investigation. If not, the New Year may bring more of the same.

                                                            

Andrea Hackett is an freelance journalist, founder of the Las Vegas Dancers Alliance in Nevada, and editor of the Populist Review. She may be contacted at andreahackett@cox.net

Rwandans Galled by the French

   Rwanda discontinued relations with France last week in the latest in a series of events that arose from the holocaust of 1994. Yet, to understand the import of their decision it helps to have a little background on Rwandan history. So, here goes.

   For centuries, Rwanda's inhabitants have consisted of two entities, the Hutu and Tutsi. Their differences, more cultural than ethnic, were exacerbated in the mid eighteenth century with the institution of a Tutsi monarch who advanced the social imbalance by establishing a Tutsi hierarchy. That rift was further encouraged by European colonists, both German and Belgian, who romanced the Tutsi's "racial superiority" and sanctioned their minority control over the Hutu.

   With Germany's defeat in World War I, Belgium took control of the region and continued their policy of extracting Rwandan riches by dividing its people (with the complicity of the Catholic Church whose bishops argued to continue the practice). Hutu were whipped and forced to pick coffee beans in the fields while Tutsi supervised. Tutsi children were educated in Catholic schools while their counterparts remained illiterate. The clergy, equal in number to whites, remained exclusively Tutsi. Not surprisingly, thousands of Hutu fled to Uganda.

   In the 1950s, the U.N. forced Belgium to clean up its act. A democratically-elected High Council was established, presided over by the monarch. Cattle, long seen as a symbol of entitlement, were distributed evenly between the two groups. An equitable system of electoral representation was implemented. Land was more equally distributed. Yet despite these reforms, the High Council remained predominantly Tutsi. As such, it was seen by many Hutus as a continuation of the old guard and Hutu moderates were regarded as traitors.

   In 1957, an important document surfaced. Penned by a small group of Hutu intellectuals, the "Hutu Manifesto" decried the political monopoly and social injustices foisted on the Hutu majority. "[Given] the de facto selection in schools, the political, economic, and social monopolies turn into a cultural monopoly which condemn the desperate [Hutu] to be forever subaltern workers...even after independence [they] will have contributed to gain without even realizing what is in store for them." The document demanded an end to the Tutsi monopoly and resisted a High Council edict to remove race designations from official documents, arguing that the statistics would serve as a monitor for democratization. Sensing a change in the air, the Catholic Church reassessed its policy and issued a letter condemning "all abuses of power."

   Two years later, following a Tutsi attempt on the life of Dominique Mbonyumutwa, a revered Hutu chief, the wrath of the Hutu reached a boiling point. In the Revolution Sociale de 1959, thousands of Tutsi were killed and nearly 160,000 fled to Uganda, Burundi, Congo, and Tanzania. Grgoire Kayibanda, one of the main authors of the Hutu Manifesto, rode his party to power--the Party for the Emancipation of the Hutu (PARMEHUTU)--in an overwhelming victory. The reign of the Tutsi had finally come to an end.

   But the Hutu, arguably in a position to temper the hatred wrought by colonial rule, proved no better at equitable government than their predecessors. In fact, they were worse. When a constitution was ratified in 1961, leading to Rwandan independence, the rights of the Tutsi were blatantly abridged despite lofty rhetoric to the contrary. In response, the exiled Tutsis led raids on the country that spanned the next ten years. But their skirmishes did little but sanction the Hutu's rage against those Tutsis still living in Rwanda and relations with neighboring countries suffered.

   In 1973, the Army Chief of Staff and Defense Minister, General Juvnal Habyarimana, came to power in a coup d'tat. On taking the helm, he dissolved the National Assembly and banned the formation of all political parties except his own, the Hutu-dominated Mouvement Democratique Republicain (MRND). To ameliorate the minority, he issued an appeal to "end the bloodletting," yet stripped the Tutsis of wealth and status, and refused to allow the estimated 1 million Tutsis in exile to return. Casting further doubt on his sincerity, was the fact that the Rwandan Armed Forces (FAR) began buying military equipment and arms at an alarming rate, much of it from France. Payback time was in the offing.

   By 1983, Ugandan president Milton Obote had become exasperated at the antics of Rwanda's exiles and expelled 40,000 Tutsi refugees for complicity in attempts to topple his regime. In the fighting that ensued, 10,000 Tutsi were killed. Infuriated by the carnage, Paul Kagame--who would later become Rwanda's president--left his post at Makere University and joined the National Resistance Army to dethrone him. In a stunning victory, Obote was ousted and Paul Kagame was promoted to Chief of Military Intelligence.

   But Kagame wasn't interested in Uganda. He wanted to reorganize his fellow Tutsis and return to Rwanda. To that end, he established the Rwandan Patriotic Front, of RPF as it's known today, and embarked on a plan to retake his country.

   The first RPF invasion of Rwanda in 1990 was a failure. Kagame was in the States being trained by the U.S. military (always there to lend a hand) and was unable to lead his troops. But his return brought a series of victories that spanned the next few years. He captured the north then captured the east in a string of guerrilla attacks. The French, who  supported Habyarimana and were surprised by Kagame's persistence, sent several hundred troops to protect the capitol (Kigali). But they weren't enough. Facing imminent defeat, Habyarimana accepted an international peace agreement in 1993 that granted the RPF a share of political power and a military presence. The Tutsis were back with a vengeance.

   But many Hutus, especially those in the radical interahamwe and impuzamugambi militias, saw this move as capitulation and fled to the Congo to conduct guerrilla operations and (what else?) recruit other Hutus. Those who remained readied themselves for the final solution.

   In 1994, the powder keg that precipitated the Rwandan genocide was sparked. President Juvnal Habyarimana's plane was shot down as he returned from peace talks in Arusha. The moment had finally come for Hutus to take revenge. Using arms from Egypt flown in by British aircraft, they went on a bloody rampage, killing Tutsis and moderate Hutus at a rate unprecedented in modern history. In a span of a hundred days, more than a million Tutsis and moderate Hutus were murdered unmercifully. Yet throughout the bloodbath the U.S. refused to intervene, preferring to jockey with France for the upper hand, intermittently supporting the RPF and Hutu militias. Belgium, too, refused to help. A recent inquiry into their culpability revealed that Belgian authorities knew as early as 1992 that preparations were underway to exterminate the Tutsi.

   Likewise the United Nations. According to the Mail Guardian, a South African newspaper, the U.N. Department of Peacekeeping Operations was warned by its own military unit in Rwanda that plans and training for the murder of Tutsis at the rate of 1,000 every 20 seconds were in place. Yet they did nothing.

   As for France, Le Monde and Le Figaro have both reported that the country supplied arms to the Rwandan government for at least a month after the killing began. French support for the Hutus and President Habyarimana is additionally demonstrated by their evacuation plan at the time--Operation Amaryllis--which called for the evacuation of French citizens and Hutu extremists to France while refusing to evacuate Tutsi employees at its embassy in Kigali. And, as if these allegations aren't damning enough, two Tutsi women gave testimony this week that they were repeatedly gang raped by French troops as they fled "machete-wielding Hutus" during the massacre.

   These revelations fly in the face of the perception, proffered by films like Hotel Rwanda, that we're all somehow guilty of this genocide. Colonial imperialism is the root cause for the underlying hatred in Rwanda and neo-colonialism has continued that legacy. It should be no wonder that the Rwandans have severed their relations with France. The only wonder should be how and why they waited so long.

                                                   

Andrea Hackett is an freelance journalist, founder of the Las Vegas Dancers Alliance in Nevada, and editor of the Populist Review. She may be contacted at andreahackett@cox.net