speech about the causes and consequences of the 1994 genocide in ways that reify and reinforce the
hero status of the RPF in stopping it. Rwandans—elites and ordinary folk alike—can speak only of
being “Rwandan” in state-sanctioned settings—for example, in ingando reeducation camps, at gacaca
justice trials, and during genocide mourning week. And yet this reality is starkly contradicted by the
fact that the roles played in state-sanctioned spaces and events are determined by ethnic status. There
has been no official recognition of different lived experiences of the 1994 genocide beyond the
assertion that only ethnic Tutsi were victims of violence during the genocide and only ethnic Hutu
killed. The RPF also does not allow for public discussion of violence that individual Rwandans
experienced before and after the genocide, particularly the violence they experienced at the hands of
RPF soldiers.
Instead, the postgenocide government uses the apparatus of the state to ensure that ordinary
Rwandans respect the rules of which individuals can speak about their experiences of the genocide and
how they do so through its policy of national unity and reconciliation. From the perspective of many
ordinary Rwandans, the official version of how the genocide happened does not recognize the
continuum of everyday violence that Rwandans of all ethnicities experienced, albeit to varying
degrees of intensity, before, during, and after the genocide. The research finds that the policy of
national unity and reconciliation is a mechanism of state power that reinforces the power of the RPF
rather than alleviating Rwandans’ deep-rooted feelings of fear, anger, and despair as they struggle to
rebuild their lives and reconcile with friends, neighbors, and, in some cases, family.
Third, in the name of national unity and reconciliation, the RPF continues to tighten its control over
the sociopolitical landscape. Since taking power after effectively stopping the genocide in July 1994,
the RPF has aggressively sought to consolidate its grip on state power. The RPF uses its version of
how the genocide happened to exclude its political opponents, Hutu, Tutsi, and Twa alike, from
education, higher-status jobs, and positions of responsibility in the bureaucracy of the state. All
Rwandans, elites and ordinary folk alike, are careful about how and whether they speak about life
since the genocide. The RPF considers unscripted comments to be suspect and interprets them as signs
of disobedience. In this way, the power of the policy of national unity and reconciliation lies in its
ability not only to orchestrate obedience but also to shape discussion about everyday life before,
during, and after the genocide. For example, the policy of national unity and reconciliation has labeled
adult male Hutu génocidaires (perpetrators) who are guilty of acts of genocide or who must be closely
watched for evidence that they harbor genocidal ideologies. In identifying all adult male Hutu as
potential génocidaires, the policy positions them as potential enemies of the state, which in turn leads
to the dissemination of credible threats of punishment—such as loss of socioeconomic status,
harassment, imprisonment, disappearance, or perhaps even death. In this way, all adult male Hutu
become subjects of suspicion and second-class citizens seen as probable perpetrators.
Fourth, most ordinary folks resident in the south recognize that the policy of national unity and
reconciliation goes against their interests as peasants who occupy the lowest positions in the
socioeconomic hierarchy. They therefore seek to resist—subtly and indirectly—its many demands.
For many ordinary peasants, the policy represents a double bind in that they consider the various
mechanisms of the policy itself unjust and illegitimate as its aims do not accord with the exigencies of
everyday rural life. For example, appointed and volunteer local officials at the sector and cell levels
force them to enact reconciliation in state-sponsored spaces, such as at the gacaca courts or during
national mourning week activities. Individuals who do not conform to the demands of the policy of
national unity and reconciliation can be harassed, intimidated, imprisoned, disappeared, or even
killed. Any action (or inaction) that leads some ordinary Rwandans, notably those known as abasazi
(“foolish”), to step outside their scripted role is perceived as an attack on the policy of national unity
and reconciliation and indeed as criticism of the government. Many ordinary peasants understand that
the policy is designed to create the appearance of peace and security in ways that reinforce the
authority of local officials, notably RPF-appointed ones. Most of the thirty-seven peasants with whom
I spoke while conducting life history interviews and many of the more than four hundred ordinary
Rwandans I met through participant observation consider the directives of the policy to be a burden in
their daily efforts to rebuild their lives and livelihoods in dignified and meaningful ways.
Fifth, many ordinary Rwandans see the ways in which the local authorities implement the policy as
an affront to their everyday life since the genocide. This marks a dramatic departure from the
interactions of ordinary people with the local officials who mediated their relations with the central
government authorities before the genocide. The Habyarimana regime (1973–94) enjoyed
considerable support among ordinary peasant Rwandans—Hutu and Tutsi alike—who felt that its
development policies served their interests, which in turn gave the regime greater legitimacy at the
grass roots than the policy of national unity and reconciliation currently enjoys. This is not to suggest
that there was no rural discontent under Habyarimana (cf. C. Newbury 1992). It is only to highlight
that the policy of national unity and reconciliation is a different form of state power because of the
role of appointed local officials in implementing its many demands. The implementation process of
the various aspects of the policy and the strategic ways in which peasant Rwandans seek to resist its
demands demonstrate more than its unpopularity and illegitimacy among rural people. They also
highlight many ordinary Rwandans’ resentment of the RPF regime’s lack of concern with protecting
rural livelihoods. Thus, for many ordinary Rwandans, the policy of national unity and reconciliation is
the product of an illegitimate regime, an opinion that contrasts considerably with elite claims that
Rwanda is a “nation rehabilitated” and one that has “put the legacy of the genocide behind it” (ORTPN
2004, 4).
Sixth, many ordinary Rwandans attribute the illegitimacy of the policy of national unity and
reconciliation to the mediating role that appointed local officials play in its implementation. Before
the genocide, everyday interactions with local officials were not necessarily positive. In many ways
the relationship between ordinary Rwandans at the lower levels of the socioeconomic hierarchy and
their local officials was as coercive as it has been since the genocide. What is different is that the
appointed local officials’ unpopularity among ordinary Rwandans before the genocide was mitigated
by the latter’s overall positive opinion of the Habyarimana regime and its development policies; the
local representatives of the state were unpopular, but the center was generally quite popular among
Hutu and Tutsi alike. This may appear counterintuitive, given the authoritarian tendencies of the
regime and the eventual descent to genocide. Ironically, the Habyarimana regime’s popular legitimacy
among the grass roots actually helped make the genocide possible. Ordinary Hutu killed their Tutsi
friends, neighbors, and family members because the order to kill came from local government
officials whose authority was backed by the coercive power of the state that was rooted in
Habyarimana’s credibility in the countryside.
Under the policy of national unity and reconciliation, appointed and volunteer local officials are the
intermediaries responsible for implementing the policies of a largely unpopular and coercive central
authority, the RPF. The ordinary Rwandans resident in southern Rwanda whom I consulted do not
view the RPF regime as a possible source of remedy for their grievances against the excesses of
elected local officials and appointed technocrats, who are responsible to Kigali for effectively and
efficiently implementing government policy through imihigo (performance) contracts and other
imposed top-down measures. This finding also challenges the RPF’s assertions, seconded by casual
foreign observers such as Crisafulli and Redmond (2012) and Kinzer (2008), that its postgenocide
policies enjoy broad-based grassroots support. That the policy of national unity and reconciliation
provides few benefits to most poor peasant Rwandans explains both the unpopularity of appointed
local officials and the illegitimacy of the policy of national unity and reconciliation among rural
people. The superficial appearance of grassroots support also shapes the widely held perception
among Western observers and Rwandan elites alike that ordinary peasant Rwandans believe in and
therefore voluntarily comply with the demands of the policy. A focus on the everyday acts of
resistance of ordinary Rwandans challenges the idea they are obedient and illustrates how they hardly
believe in the dictates of the policy of national unity and reconciliation. Quite the opposite—their
obedience is tactical. Where the policy forces ordinary Rwandans to live within its official truths, they
confront it in ways that seek to restore their personal dignity while subtly attempting to live their own
truth of what they experienced before, during, and after the genocide.
Taken together, these findings illuminate the system of state power that structures ordinary peasant
Rwandans’ everyday lives since the genocide. The analysis demonstrates how Rwanda’s rigid
sociopolitical hierarchy limits individual opportunities to reconcile according to their position in the
social structure and how the policy of national unity further limits their ability and willingness to
reconcile with neighbors and friends. Many ordinary peasants perceive the demands of the policy as
detrimental to their interests, and this shapes their decision to resist in an attempt to make their lives
more sustainable and to restore their sense of dignity. For the ordinary Rwandans I consulted, the
policy of national unity and reconciliation forms the panorama of their everyday life, meaning that it
constantly and consistently reminds them what they must do. The ordinary Rwandans who participated
in the research understand that their appointed local authorities, most of whom have no sense of the
impact of the legacy of the genocide on their everyday lives, do the bidding of the RPF regime in the
name of national unity and reconciliation.
The remainder of this chapter first summarizes what the everyday acts of resistance of ordinary
Rwandans to the policy of national unity and reconciliation say about systems of state power. It then
underlines the methodological importance of bringing in the individual lived experiences of ordinary
peasant people. Finally, it proposes a few areas for further research that are relevant for the study of
politics in Rwanda and elsewhere in Africa.
Understanding and Explaining Systems of Power through Acts of Everyday
Resistance
Questions about why and when individuals comply have been central to the study of politics since
Max Weber first posed the question (Weber 1946, 78–79). The answer is generally drawn from
Weber’s ideal types of political authority (traditional, charismatic, and legal-rational). People obey
for one of three reasons: (1) because they believe in the values, norms, and standards by which a
particular regime operates; (2) because they believe it is in their material interest to do so; or (3)
because they fear the coercive threats and sanctions they will face for noncompliance. Though these
can be valid explanations for why individuals comply, they do not capture the complete picture. Such
approaches to compliance rarely consider the ways that individuals subjected to dominant power resist
its demands. When they do, it is to understand and explain moments of significant upheaval like
rebellions and revolutions, such as the 1994 genocide and the 1959 social revolution in Rwanda.
However, moments of upheaval do not contrast as strongly with “normal” times as many social
scientists have assumed. Explanations about when and why individuals comply during periods of so-
called normalcy fail to provide adequate explanations for why individuals sometimes do not comply
when the situation appears “normal,” as it currently does in Rwanda under the policy of national unity
and reconciliation. In states characterized by authoritarian forms of domination, “normal” times can
involve the intensification of older forms of oppression and the creation of new forms, which can in
turn create the conditions for a return to political upheaval. It is therefore important that social
scientists identify and consider the everyday practices of resistance of individuals subject to coercive
forms of power, such as the practices of direct and indirect control found in the policy of national
unity and reconciliation.
Neither domination nor resistance is autonomous. The two are entangled, so it becomes difficult to
analyze one without discussing the effects of the other at the level of the individual (Scott 1985;
Young 2004). An analysis of everyday periods of “normalcy” through an examination of the everyday
acts of resistance of individuals subject to dominant forms of power identifies sites of struggle and
other points of weakness in the power of the state by pointing to areas where the demands of the state
system conflict with the aims of everyday life. This is the primary contribution of this book; it
provides a bottom-up analysis of state power from the perspective of those subject to the state’s many
demands. In this way, the research adds to the resistance literature in focusing on individual acts of
everyday resistance as a means of understanding how the various practices of the state are manifested
in people’s everyday lives. This is important since the way in which politics affects and is “felt” in the
daily lives of people is almost completely absent in the academic literature. When it is discussed, it is
presented through the eyes of local elites. Such an approach also illustrates the analytical utility of the
concept of everyday resistance to further our understanding of the system of power in which
individuals are enmeshed and of the resultant social and political tensions and inequalities.
The everyday acts of resistance of ordinary peasants to the coercive mechanisms of the policy of
national unity signal more than their individual agency and the strategic nature of their compliance.
The book develops the concept of everyday resistance to point analysts toward the multiple and
overlapping structures of power that ordinary people confront in their daily lives. Tracing the subtle
and indirect resistance of ordinary Rwandans resident in the south from a variety of subject positions
to the demands of the policy of national unity and reconciliation provides more than a bottom-up
approach to disentangling the various practices of domination and the myriad forms of subjugation in
postgenocide Rwanda. It also facilitates analysis of the ways in which particular forms of subjugation
produce the appearance of individual compliance. A careful look at what may appear to be trivial
matters—remaining silent, laughing at the wrong moment, or playing dumb—can provide important
insights into the dynamics of power in contexts of coercive state authority.
A focus on the everyday acts of resistance of some ordinary Rwandans illustrates how the
postgenocide state tries to depoliticize peasant people by orchestrating public performances but, most
important, closes off the possibility for individuals to join together to organize politically. Because
ordinary Rwandans have no opportunity to express themselves politically in public, their responses to
the demands of the policy of national unity and reconciliation show how they tactically conceal or
reveal their political opinions. When they express no opinion and therefore appear compliant, many
casual observers conclude that ordinary people believe in and support the regime. Their everyday acts
of resistance illustrate the opposite. Individuals simulate greater loyalty than they actually feel as a
means of coping. A closer analysis of their presumed compliance shows that the proscriptions and
limitations of everyday life may serve to intensify and enhance their ability and willingness to engage
politically. Thus, even where compliance is coercive and the opportunities for dissent are minimal,
peasants continue to express their politics through their acts of resistance. Identification of the
individual acts of everyday resistance of the most marginal members of a highly stratified society
such as postgenocide Rwanda points analysts toward areas where political life can quickly descend
from the appearance of compliance to open protest and perhaps to revolution or even genocide.
Indeed, the power of any regime, including the RPF, is always partial. Studying postgenocide
Rwanda from the perspective of those subject to its power reveals the paradoxical effects of the
mechanisms of social control found in the policy of national unity and reconciliation. On one hand,
the policy invites the political engagement of Rwandans, elite and ordinary folk alike, that it seeks to
control in forcing them to participate in state-sanctioned activities of national unity and
reconciliation. On the other hand, the methods of resistance available to most ordinary Rwandans,
especially if they are subtle and indirect, are by themselves incapable of significantly altering the
postgenocide sociopolitical order. Nonetheless, these acts of resistance are important because they
point to the hidden spheres of dissatisfaction of individuals who have no opportunity to publically
express their politics. Their practices of resistance are indicators of more than individual
dissatisfaction with a particular regime. They also provide the foundation for creating alternative
spaces for political actions and ideas. It is difficult to predict if and when these individual acts will
cascade into a collective movement that may lead to peaceful contestation of power or culminate in
riot or rebellion. But they clearly demonstrate the potential for such upheavals.
The everyday acts of resistance of ordinary people could be called prepolitical, since they are not
overtly directed at the state system. Still, these acts made in the face of a strong state power are more
than elementary signs of individuals seeking to live their daily lives as best they can; they are
indicators of emergent confrontation with the state system in which those who are most marginal in
society express their dissatisfaction with the state and its agents.
This book has focused on southern Rwanda, but the approach used here is also relevant for the study
of politics in other regions of the country, as well as in other parts of Africa and in other societies
where domination is commonplace. The everyday acts of resistance show how individuals who are
subject to oppressive forms of state power, even the most marginal, work to resist the efforts of the
state to make them comply with its demands. In this way, everyday acts of resistance act as indicators
of discontent and enable analysts to recognize and examine the importance of pre-political actions as
indicative of the locations where collective action for political change may emerge. For, as Norton
(2004, 41) notes, because political change often comes from those who are most marginal and on the
periphery of state power, it is important to “recognize the power of liminal, or marginal, groups. . . .
Because they stand on the boundaries of identity they are often central to debates over those
boundaries.”
Researching Resistance
From the outset, my research has sought to understand the individual experiences of a cross section of
ordinary Rwandans resident in the south before, during, and after the genocide. Also shaping my
analysis is my own direct experiences of the power of the state in stopping my research and placing
me in a “reeducation” camp. This firsthand experience of the tactics used by the postgenocide state to
induce compliance informs this research. Some readers may contend that I lack the critical distance
necessary for the analysis of the complex interactions between some ordinary peasant Rwandans and
the demands of the policy of national unity and reconciliation and that my analysis is unduly biased
against the current regime. In order to maintain the integrity of the research, I have combined my
analysis of the oral data gained through fieldwork and the insights of participation observation on the
daily rhythms of life in postgenocide Rwanda with careful historical and empirical analysis to
understand and explain the ways that ordinary Rwandans have attempted to shape their lives since the
genocide. Throughout the research process, my purpose remained to bring ordinary people into the
frame of analysis in order to provide a nuanced view of contemporary Rwanda that moves academic
and policy discussions beyond the congratulatory writings of some observers about the hero status of
the RPF as the saviors and moral guardians of the “new” Rwanda (e.g., Gourevitch 1998; Kinzer
2008).
My findings challenge the commonly held beliefs, assertions, and assumptions about rural life
during and after the 1994 genocide and more specifically about ordinary peasant people as supposedly
powerless and passive—apolitical actors who willingly obey the directives of their political leaders.
Ethnographic vignettes and excerpts from the life history interviews that I conducted with those
Rwandans who participated in my research add much-needed texture to our understanding of the
policy of national unity and reconciliation from the ground up, rather than privileging a state-centered
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