Human, All Too Human: the title of the book by the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche (Munich, 1878) resounds in this masterly study of the political role that churches and Christianity played in Rwandan history from the onset of colonization down to the 1994 genocide. Once it is accepted that, in spite of their specific horrors, genocides are neither unique nor inexplicable, they appear as an extreme outcome of ethnic scapegoating, a social process that seems to happen more and more often, and not only in Africa. If we are to prevent ethnic violence and genocide it is necessary to understand the process. In the Rwandan case, while the genocide had been organized by powerful individuals, the success of the enterprise required extensive popular participation, and it is the author's contention that, in this case, churches played a key role in encouraging people's involvement by making it morally acceptable, whatever individual motivations were. Churches can weigh on moral consciences and prevent violence: how is it that in Rwanda their moral weight could tip the balance down to hellish depths? The author builds his case convincingly, first through an overview of the history of Rwanda's churches, then through the contrasting study of two rural communities.
Churches in Rwanda have been, from the very start of their presence in the country, closely linked to political powers, with the exception of the Pentecostal Church (whose members participated very little in the genocide). These links have connoted their action throughout, mainly in reinforcing the powerful but also, often, in encouraging counter currents more favourable to the poor, with diverging orientation creating conflict within churches. The Catholic Church was the main representative of Christianity in Rwanda, with Anglicans and the Bethel missionaries (to be replaced by the Presbyterian Church in 1920, after Rwanda had become administered by Belgium) arriving quite early in the country as well. The most powerful denomination was the White Fathers, the ‘Kings without crowns’, described by the late Alison Des Forges in an article surprisingly not cited by Longman, where she recapitulates the first stages of their settlement, when attracting the poor was still their only way to connect to Rwandan people. It was later that, as Longman recalls, they were able to seduce the powerful, following the motto of Cardinal Lavigerie, who assumed that the masses would follow their chiefs. Famines, and the opportunity they provided for the missionaries to help, were also important in attracting massive conversions as a reward for church aid to the poor. Another element left aside by Longman is the missionary tactic of re-interpreting the local worldview in terms of stepping stones towards Christianity. On this, the author relies on weak sources such as P. B. Gravel, among others, and fails to address the issue. As the local worldview is not considered by Longman, conflicting interpretations of events as important as the consecration of the land to Christ are left aside. In spite of these weaknesses, however, the consistency of the demonstration is entirely convincing as far as the main argument is concerned. While the missionaries and the very few Germans present in the country already helped each other, the collaboration became even more meaningful when the Belgians took over. The role played by churches (especially the Catholic Church) in racializing social categories is assessed, as is the fostering of the established chiefs, and their generally conservative, albeit opportunistic, attitude.
History reveals that, all along, the churches have been part and parcel of power games, and a main partner in collusion between colonizers, local chiefs, and rising elites of various compositions. Gaining the chiefs to the new faith gained them to the colonizer as well, at least up to a point. Conflicting ideologies that developed within the churches informed tensions within the clergy and seminaries: the shift in church allegiance, from the conservative Tutsi to the Hutu, as a path to the 1959 revolution, is fairly similar to the contrasting attitudes of the clergy in the two protestant parishes at the time of the genocide, described by Longman. In the long-established parish of Kirinda, the clergy had close links, often family links, with politicians who, together with them, saw their privileges being jeopardized by political reforms in the economic crisis of the late 1980s. In the recently created parish of Biguhu, on the other hand, the parish pastor promoted an ideology akin to liberation theology and was much closer to his parishioners than to representatives of power. In Biguhu, where people hesitated to commit acts of genocide and clergy abstained, Hutu and Tutsi had been encouraged to collaborate. In contrast, in Kirinda, the shift from class conflict into an ethnic one had been prepared from the late 1980s (as I could witness myself during my own fieldwork in the same area), and thus the genocide started much quicker, the clergy and authorities giving both orders and example. The shift from class to ethnic conflict was central to the process of mass mobilization, just as the apparent support of the churches for unquestioned respect for the authorities facilitated murderous action. As institutions, the churches were allied to the carefully orchestrated attempt of government and military officials to preserve the existing order and their privileges, and to unify their followers along ethnic lines. To this stance, the churches added their moral weight, derived from the belief that they were acting under divine sanction. Fear of the consequences of refusing to participate enhanced the mobilization.
The genocide was never inevitable, and the churches could have influenced history in another direction and prevented conflicts as they did, for example, in South Africa. This main argument is convincingly demonstrated by the author and his book adds to our understanding of the process of mobilization for genocide, in spite of shortcomings partly resulting from an incomplete bibliography.