In this study, Randall Fegley, a political historian, examines Rwandan identity and undertakes a historical analysis of what are conventionally described as ‘Hutu farmers’ and ‘Tutsi herders’. He assesses the forces that shaped their respective identities and considers the emergence of the ‘nightmare’ of Hutu Power that resulted in the 1994 genocide. The book then shifts to the problem of conflict resolution in post-genocide Rwanda. To avoid further conflicts and bridge Hutu-Tutsi divisions, Fegley prescribes the model of ‘consociationalism’. Consociationalism is a democratic power-sharing system that is meant to stabilize segmented societies. It accords proportional representation to communal elites. Those elites are supposed to come together in a grand coalition in which they can exercise a mutual veto over one another, while at the same time they can exercise autonomy within their respective communities.
As has been widely established, Belgian colonial officials coopted the Tutsi, flattering them on their inherent ‘superiority’, which they buttressed with the racist European ‘Hamitic Hypothesis,’ which attributed ‘civilization’ in Africa to outside influences and northern origins. The colonizers claimed that the Tutsi, who were alleged to have ‘superior Caucasian’ physical features and a lighter skin complexion, were purportedly from Ethiopia or Egypt. Thus, Hutu and Tutsi identities, which had been ‘far more fluid, flexible, and varied’ in precolonial practice, were frozen into a rigid hierarchy in the colonial period. What is innovative about this study is the emphasis that it places on the workings of Belgium's heritage in the colonial context. Fegley shows how the Belgians projected their own ethnic politics into Rwanda's ‘ethnic’ drama. The author explains that the rising influence within the Belgian state of the Flemish majority, who historically had been considered to be inferior to the dominant Walloon minority, helped shape the particular ethnic orientation of the colonial apparatus in Kigali. Many Flemish joined the colonial service and an increasing number of Flemish priests arrived in Rwanda, becoming teachers of Hutu children (26–29). They equated Tutsi arrogance with the ‘snobbish’ Walloon behavior. Indeed, the deep tension between the Walloon and Flemish found new fodder in the supposed Hutu-Tutsi divide. Empathizing with the Rwandan Hutu, Flemish colonial officials worked to ensure their empowerment. This process helped to create a fraught ethnic landscape that found ultimate expression in the Hutu Revolution (1959–61) and, three decades later, the 1994 genocide.
Against this backdrop, Fegley suggests that a national identity can be constructed in post-genocide Rwanda ‘that will think of itself as only Rwandan’ (112). He also argues that a policy of consociationalism would help the country achieve this goal. But this prescription is problematic for two reasons. First, the ethnic diversity that consociationalism accommodates and upon which it depends is incompatible with the effort to nurture a pan-Rwandan identity that de-emphasizes ethnic diversity. To promote a political process that is built around and continues to play on supposed ethnic differences, as opposed to overcoming them, runs the risk of deepening social and political divisions. Second, as a developing nation, Rwanda is not well-positioned to practice consociationalism because the country's democratic institutions are not robust enough to sustain it.
As these critiques suggest, what is sorely missing in this study is a discussion of ethnicity, both conceptually and as it applies specifically to Rwanda. Fegley asserts that precolonial Rwandan society was idyllic and flexible, and that postcolonial Rwanda is deeply divided between Hutu and Tutsi. But it is also clear that in the intervening years the colonial state had to carry out quite a bit of work to sharpen the divide between Hutu and Tutsi. It did so by, for example, introducing identification cards that personified and reified the difference between the two groups. Fegley notes the ambivalent power of ethnicity — that it is culturally and politically ‘constructed’, but that it is also a ‘real and powerful’ force (16). But, if it is only ten percent of Tutsi who supposedly carry ‘superior Caucasian’ features and ninety percent of the Hutu can pass for Tutsi, and identification cards must be used to distinguish them, then what processes make ethnicity ‘real and powerful’ is not altogether clear.
In post-genocide Rwanda, the government replaced a history that legitimized Hutu supremacy with an ‘official history’ that eliminates references to ethnicity. Fegley argues that ‘[i]n post-traumatic societies, [historical interpretations] are not idle intellectual exercises, but potentially life-and-death issues’ (106). It is certainly the case that history and historical narratives can be made pernicious in the hands of politicians. The author is optimistic that the official history of the political actors will produce a pan-Rwandan identity. But would it also not be possible to build a pan-Rwandan identity by tackling directly the contentious history of ethnicity in Rwanda, by untangling the myth of foreign origins and deconstructing claims to Tutsi ‘superiority’?
This book argues that the political process of consociationalism, which utilizes and relies upon ethnic difference, can rework the genocidal undercurrents that operate in Rwanda, stabilize the future of this country, and foster a pan-Rwandan identity. In the concluding chapter, the author further proposes widespread personal attitudinal change towards issues of diversity. Taken all together, however, it is not precisely clear how Fegley's prescriptions for Rwanda will achieve their stated goals, or if these recommendations can even be reconciled with one another.
