Stopping Mass 

Killings in Africa

Genocide, Airpower, and Intervention

Edited by

Douglas C. Peifer, PhD

Air University Press

Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama

July 2008
ii

Disclaimer

Opinions, conclusions, and recommendations expressed or implied within are solely those of the 

editor and do not necessarily represent the views of Air University, the United States Air Force, 

the Department of Defense, or any other US government agency. Cleared for public release: 

distribution unlimited.

Air University Press

131 West Shumacher Avenue

Maxwell AFB, AL 36112-5962

http://aupress.maxwell.af.mil

Muir S. Fairchild Research Information Center

Cataloging Data

Stopping mass killings in Africa : genocide, airpower, and intervention / edited by 

Douglas Peifer, PhD.

 p. ; cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-1-58566-182-4

1. Genocide—Africa—Prevention. 2. Intervention (International law) 3. Intervention (International law)—Case studies. 4. Airpower. I. Peifer, Douglas Carl.

341.584/096—dc22
iii

Contents

Page

DISCLAIMER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii

ABOUT THE EDITOR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . v

PREFACE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii

Introduction to Genocide . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

	 Dr. Douglas C. Peifer

Case Studies

 1 American Intervention in Africa: 

Building on the Lessons of Somalia . . . . . . . . . . 21

	 Lt Col Aaron Steffens, USAF

 2 Genocide, Airpower, and Intervention: 

Rwanda 1994 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53

	 Maj George Stanley, USAF

 3 Defeating Genocide: An Operational 

Concept Based on the Rwandan 

Experience . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77

	 Lt Col Keith Reeves, USAF

 4 Côte d’Ivoire: Intervention and 

Prevention Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101

	 CDR Timothy E. Boyer, USN

Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127

	 Dr. Douglas C. Peifer

CONTRIBUTORS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143

BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145

INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161
Illustrations

Figure	 Page

 1 Hilberg’s structural analysis of the 

destruction of the European Jews . . . . . . . . . . . . 12

 2 Graphical propagation of a genocide 

over time . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85

 3 The Rwandan killing machine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90

 4 Intervention trinity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95

CONTENTS

iv
v

About The Editor

Dr. Douglas C. Peifer is an associate professor in the Department of Strategy and Leadership at the US Air War College. He 

holds master of arts and doctor of philosophy degrees in history from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, North 

Carolina, with a concentration in modern European diplomatic 

and military history. Peifer assembled this volume of case studies on operational responses to genocide as part of a project 

resulting from an elective he taught on the subject at the Air 

Command and Staff College (ACSC) in the spring of 2006. His 

publications include a book on The Three German Navies, and 

articles in The Journal of Military History, War in History, War and

Society, and The German Studies Review. His current research 

focuses on European security issues; the interaction between 

history, culture, and foreign policy; and the challenges posed 

by genocide and mass killings.

vii

Preface

This monograph seeks to contribute to the urgent task of 

developing realistic strategies for preventing and stopping genocide and mass killings. Neither humanitarian operations in a 

passive environment nor combat operations serve as appropriate models for interventions geared specifically at stopping 

genocide. The concept of UN Charter, chapter 7 peace enforcement operations comes closest, but US, NATO, and UN doctrine on “peace enforcement” remains sketchy and ill-defined.1

The four case studies that comprise this monograph add an 

important ingredient to the literature on genocide intervention 

in that they provide “actionable” strategic and operational 

ideas. Drawing upon the experience of Somalia, Rwanda, and 

the Côte d’Ivoire, the authors present thoughtful recommendations for the future based on lessons derived from the past. 

Each case study presents an analysis of the patterns of genocide within specific historical and cultural settings, an assessment of the international and American response to deepening 

crises, and an array of recommendations for more effective intervention strategies compatible with limited domestic support 

for humanitarian interventions. All the contributors to this volume are keenly aware of and concerned about the ongoing 

genocide in Darfur; but given evolving developments in the region ranging from attacks on African Union (AU) peacekeepers 

to ongoing efforts to organize a more robust AU/UN hybrid 

peacekeeping operation (UN–AU Mission in Darfur), we felt that 

any assessment of intervention efforts in Sudan would be incomplete and partial at this time. Instead, we encourage readers to consult the Web sites of various organizations dedicated 

to providing timely information, analysis, and assessments of 

ongoing genocides, mass killings, and intervention efforts.2 The 

case studies in this volume draw upon Somalia, Rwanda, and 

the Côte d’Ivoire rather than Darfur because these earlier crises allow historical distance, enabling assessments that will 

have a longer shelf life than those based on an ongoing, unfolding crisis. 

Aaron Steffens’ examination of the lessons of Somalia provides a set of strategic and operational lessons for more effec-
tive future responses to mass killings in Africa. Steffens bases 

his recommendations upon a careful examination of the complex interaction between the United Nations–led UNOSOM I 

and II operations and the US–led Unified Task Force (UNITAF) 

mission in Somalia during the period 1992 through 1994. Steffens maintains that the famine, which caused the death of 

some 400,000 Somalis in 1992, had as much to do with civil 

war and the intentional manipulation of dwindling food supplies by warlords as it did with environmental conditions. Intervention in Somalia therefore posed the same challenges as 

would intervention in response to future genocides or mass 

killings. These challenges include generating international and 

domestic support for action, coordinating international and national responses, and defining mission termination criteria. Steffens affirms that prevention would have been much less expensive than crisis intervention, pointing out a number of missed 

opportunities where the United Nations and United States 

failed to act. He suggests that the massive UNITAF operation 

(some 37,000 US troops) left troubling, unsolved problems for 

its less-robust UN successor, UNISOM II, setting the conditions 

for the October 1993 Battle of Mogadishu and the death of 18 

US servicemen. Steffens’ strategic and operational lessons 

range from the importance of prevention to the need for political solutions and the necessity to disarm locals intent on preventing conflict settlement and resolution. Steffens’ discussion 

of how US forces can best support regional intervention forces 

such as the AU’s African Standby Force will be of particular interest to American military personnel posted to US Africa Command, the unified military command established in 2007.3

The second and third case studies focus on the Rwandan 

genocide of April–July 1994. George Stanley poses four key 

questions in his analysis of Rwanda: First, why did Hutu extremists decide that genocide was a viable and effective alternative to the negotiated settlement of conflict as represented by 

the Arusha Peace Agreement? Second, how did the small group 

most committed to implementing genocide gain the necessary 

active cooperation of a broad portion of the public? Third, why 

did the United Nations and United States fail to intervene to 

prevent or stop genocide in its planning and execution phases? 

Lastly, could the United States have intervened effectively? 

PREFACE

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ix

Drawing upon both Scott Feil’s 1997 Army War College research report and Alan Kuperman’s more widely disseminated 

2001 book on The Limits of Humanitarian Intervention, Stanley 

concludes that intervention could have been more effective 

than Kuperman suggests but would have involved considerable 

risk.4 He correctly notes that the French Operation Turquoise 

of June 1994, sometimes cited as proof that intervention would 

have been low risk, encountered little resistance from Hutu 

forces precisely because it served to prevent their opponents 

from overrunning the country. The reaction of Hutu extremists 

might have been very different 10 weeks earlier before the tide 

of the civil war turned clearly against them. Stanley argues 

that the United States should have intervened despite the risks 

and offers an operator’s perspective on how airpower might 

have mitigated risks substantially, explaining how airlift, electronic jamming, reconnaissance, and direct attack might have 

contributed to the success of an intervention effort. Stanley’s 

insights into the role of airpower in humanitarian and genocideintervention operations draw upon the historical experience of 

Rwanda but have clear implications for future intervention 

strategies.

Keith Reeves’ analysis of the Rwandan genocide offers a 

thoughtful complement to Stanley’s. Reeves approaches the 

subject from a different angle, using Rwanda as a case study to 

develop a model for “rapid genocide intervention” (RGI). Reeves 

recognizes that preventive strategies based on the diplomatic, 

informational, and economic instruments of national power 

may be superior to military interventions in response to crisis 

conditions. Yet how should the US military respond to stop 

genocide if political leaders decide that something must be done 

once the killing is actually in progress? Reeves applies the tools 

of system analysis to the key nodes and vulnerabilities of genocide systems. His RGI concept could be implemented to disrupt 

or impede the process of genocide, buying valuable time for the 

international community and regional powers to devise longterm solutions that address underlying causes. Carefully dissecting the Rwandan killing machine to uncover its components and connections, Reeves asserts that effective intervention 

requires three elements. These elements, which he dubs the 

“intervention trinity,” are rapid theater mobility, focused intelPREFACE
ligence, and broad-based resolve. His analysis concludes with 

a discussion of the composition of an ideal genocide intervention force.

The final case study in this collection focuses on the successful prevention of mass killing or genocide. As Timothy 

Boyer points out, the Côte d’Ivoire teetered on the edge of genocide in the fall of 2002, exhibiting the same dangerous mix of 

ethnic tension, a civil war, and an ideology of intolerance that 

characterized Rwanda prior to its descent into slaughter. Boyer 

analyzes how certain ethnic groups were systematically excluded from power, how the media fostered hate speech, how 

extremist groups fostered ethnic exclusivity, and how economic 

disparities reinforced group tension. Yet unlike Rwanda, outside 

actors intervened and prevented a spiraling cycle of violence 

that might have degenerated into genocide. Boyer’s analysis 

explores how France, the Economic Community of West African 

States, and the United Nations responded to the crisis in the 

Côte d’Ivoire, illustrating that under the right conditions regional and international actors other than the United States 

can intervene effectively. By enabling others to intervene through 

airpower, logistical, and communication support, the United 

States can promote effective intervention without directly committing US peacekeeping troops. 

Stopping Mass Killings in Africa is written from the perspective of military officers who may well be tasked with translating 

political directives to “stop the killing” into realistic operational 

plans. As editor, I have included an introductory chapter defining genocide, democide, and mass killings; summarizing the 

key models for understanding how and when mass killings unfold; and acknowledging various efforts underway that study 

how best to stop mass killings. Clearly, prevention is far preferable to intervention both in terms of effectiveness and in terms 

of cost. Unfortunately, public awareness and support for “doing something” tends to be limited during the period when preventive actions are feasible, low-cost, and most effective. Only 

as the situation slips into overt mass killings does pressure 

build for action. The editor and contributors fully understand 

that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of intervention, 

but contend that the US military, and the Air Force in particular, needs to be prepared to act when situations have become 

PREFACE

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xi

catastrophic. Military intervention to stop genocide should be a 

last resort, and pressure and assistance should be brought to 

bear before genocide watches and warnings become genocide 

emergencies. The monograph concludes with a chapter summarizing key recommendations made by Steffens, Stanley, 

Reeves, and Boyer, and developing some of my own thoughts on 

the possible role of airpower in genocide intervention operations. This monograph places a unique emphasis on the potential contributions of airpower to genocide intervention, but the 

officers who contributed to this collection have taken a broader 

perspective that explores regional and international responses 

where America’s role may be mainly supportive. The collection 

will be of particular value to military officers responsible for humanitarian interventions in Africa, but will be of interest to all 

who seek to generate the practical solutions that will help render “never again” more than empty rhetoric. 

Douglas Carl Peifer, PhD

Associate Professor, Air War College

Notes

All notes appear in shortened form. For full details, see the appropriate entry 

in the Bibliography.

1. See Holt and Berkman, The Impossible Mandate? for a sound discussion of the inadequacies of current doctrine. Joint Publication 3-07.3, Peace

Operations, notes that peace enforcement operations should enforce sanctions and exclusion zones, restore order, forcibly separate belligerents, and 

conduct internment/resettlement operations. The publication provides little 

guidance of how to accomplish these tasks while using restraint and minimum force.

2. Reference links to some of the key organizations engaged in genocide 

awareness and education efforts are provided at the close of chapter 1.

3. On 6 February 2007, President Bush directed the creation of US Africa 

Command. For an overview of the AFRICOM mission and evolving organization, 

visit the command’s frequently asked questions page at http://www.africom 

.mil/africomFAQs.asp.

4. Feil, “A Rwandan Retrospective;” Kuperman, The Limits of Humanitarian

Intervention.

PREFACE

xiii

Acknowledgments

The following edited volume grew out of a 2006 seminar led 

by Dr. Douglas Peifer at the Air Command and Staff College at 

Air University, Maxwell AFB, Alabama. Initially conceived as an 

academic seminar analyzing the causes, conduct, and consequences of genocide and mass killing, the seminar embraced 

the challenge of exploring how the US military might contribute 

to genocide prevention. The interplay between Peifer’s academic 

background in history and Holocaust studies and the operational expertise of mid-career Air Force and Navy pilots, logisticians, and combat support specialists made for lively, informed 

discussions about operational responses to genocide and mass 

killings. The contributors to this volume would like to thank 

their peers and professors at ACSC for providing an environment that enabled discussion and research on issues that fall 

outside the mainframe of professional military studies. 

Given the frequent deployments and high-tempo operations 

of today’s military professionals, the student scholars whose 

papers were selected for publication extend a particular word 

of thanks to their families. Aaron Steffens thanks his two beautiful girls, Jennifer and Samantha, for their unfailing support. 

Keith Reeves thanks his ever-supportive wife and best friend, 

Tess, for listening to his endless griping about writer’s block, 

and his daughters, Jessica and Jalen, for reminding him of the 

important things in life. Tim Boyer owes a debt of gratitude to 

his lovely wife, Lisa, for her support and encouragement and to 

the friendly and patient staff at the AU library in helping work 

through the maze of reference material. George Stanley would 

like to thank his beautiful wife, Londa, and his wonderful children, Scott and Alena, for their patience and faithful encouragement during this research project. All four thank Dr. Peifer 

for his enthusiastic support and guidance during the seminar, 

while researching and writing, and throughout the publication 

process. 

Douglas Peifer would like to thank all the members of the 

2006 seminar on “Genocide and Intervention” for their insights 

and contributions. At Air University, he would like to thank 

Chris Cain, Shirley Laseter, Dan Mortensen, Stephen Burgess, 
Kevin Holzimmer, and others for pushing this project forward. 

Special thanks to James Howard and Darlene Barnes for their 

unstinting support in editing and preparing the manuscript. 

Peifer would like to single out Gerhard Weinberg for stimulating 

his interest in genocide studies and Zev Weiss for enabling his 

participation in Northwestern University’s Summer Institute 

on the Holocaust. Last but not least, he thanks Beth, his parents, and his four wonderful sons for their support and love.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

xiv


Introduction to Genocide

Dr. Douglas C. Peifer

Never again. Two words capture the grim determination of 

Holocaust survivors that the world should never forget what 

happened and never allow another cold-blooded murder of millions based on their religion, ethnicity, race, or national origin. 

Following Raul Hilberg’s groundbreaking Destruction of the European Jews in 1961 and the trial of Adolf Eichmann that same 

year, a dense network of scholars, university programs, foundations, and museums slowly developed to ensure that the Holocaust or Shoah would never be forgotten and to examine the 

causes and conditions that allowed it to happen.1 Parallel efforts emerged dedicated to understanding the Armenian genocide, the destruction of Native Americans, and other mass killings. Yet despite these efforts, the international community 

stood by and allowed genocide to unfold in Cambodia, in Bosnia, in Rwanda, and elsewhere during the closing decades of 

the twentieth century. The twenty-first century has proved 

equally disturbing thus far, with perhaps as many as 400,000 

lives extinguished in Darfur and some 2.3 million Darfuris displaced by the violence.2 Genocide Watch, an international group 

dedicated to raising awareness of and influencing public policies toward potential and actual genocides, lists one genocide 

in progress (Darfur), one region where genocide is deemed imminent (Chad), and four areas exhibiting warning signs of possible mass killings (Burma, Kenya, Uzbekistan, and Zimbabwe) 

as of January 2008.3

Outraged by the inaction of nations and the international 

community to the killing fields of Cambodia, the Rwandan 

genocide of 1994, the slaughter of some 7,000 Bosnian Muslim 

men and boys at Srebrenica in July 1995, and the deteriorating 

situation in Kosovo in the late 1990s, concerned individuals and 

organizations began to network and become more active in 

generating pressure to prevent future genocides. The United 

States Holocaust Memorial Museum (USHMM) established a 

Committee on Conscience, charged with alerting the national 

conscience, influencing policy makers, and stimulating world-
INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

wide action to confront and halt genocide, mass killings, and 

related crimes against humanity.4 Samantha Power, a war correspondent, pricked America’s conscience with her frontline 

articles the Balkans during the 1990s and a best-selling 2002 

book A Problem from Hell: America and the Age of Genocide.

5

Gregory Stanton, an international human rights lawyer who 

worked for the US Department of State’s Office of Cambodian 

Genocide Investigations, founded Genocide Watch. Existing 

nongovernmental organizations such as Refugees International 

became increasingly concerned about the overlap between humanitarian assistance, war, and genocide. Last but not least, 

universities became ever more engaged in genocide studies, 

with institutes and centers such as the Montreal Institute for 

Genocide and Human Rights Studies and Yale University’s 

Genocide Studies Program generating both scholarship and activism.6 Not surprisingly, among the most vocal voices pressing 

the US government and the United Nations for action were student groups such as Students Taking Action Now: Darfur 

(STAND), whose chapters have organized dozens of rallies, vigils, 

and teach-ins about Darfur since the first chapter was founded 

at Georgetown University in 2004.7

As journalists, citizen coalitions, student-action groups, university centers, and policy institutes generated public awareness 

of mass killings and genocides, American politicians responded. 

On the Republican side, Pres. George W. Bush included genocide among the security challenges he addressed in his 2002 

National Security Strategy and elevated the issue in his 2006 

National Security Strategy.8 Devoting an entire page to the issue, President Bush warned that:

It is a moral imperative that states take action to prevent and punish 

genocide. History teaches that sometimes other states will not act unless America does its part. We must refine United States Government 

efforts—economic, diplomatic, and law-enforcement—so that they target those individuals responsible for genocide and not the innocent citizens they rule. Where perpetrators of mass killing defy all attempts at 

peaceful intervention, armed intervention may be required, preferably 

by the forces of several nations working together under appropriate regional or international auspices.

We must not allow the legal debate over the technical definition of “genocide” to excuse inaction. The world must act in cases of mass atrocities 
INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

and mass killing that will eventually lead to genocide even if the local 

parties are not prepared for peace.9

President Bush was not the only voice in the Republican 

camp taking up the issue. Others, such as Senator Sam Brownback of Kansas and Rep. Henry Hyde of Illinois, have been 

deeply engaged in seeking solutions to the Darfur crisis.10 On 

the Democratic side, representatives Tom Lantos (California) 

and Michael Capuano (Maryland) have sponsored legislation 

on the issue, with Joseph Biden (Delaware), Richard Durbin 

(Illinois), Hillary Clinton (New York), and Joseph Lieberman 

(Connecticut) tackling the issue in the Senate.11 While activists 

have unhappily noted that mass killings continue in Darfur and 

threaten to unfold in southern Sudan, Somalia, and elsewhere, 

the president’s appointment of a Special Envoy to Sudan (Andrew 

Natsios, September 2006–December 2007, and subsequently 

Richard Williamson) stands in stark contrast to the US handsoff policy during the Rwandan genocide.12 Seeking to generate 

concrete “practical recommendations to enhance the US government’s capacity to respond to emerging threats of genocide 

and mass atrocities,” former secretary of state Madeleine Albright 

and former secretary of defense William Cohen announced in 

November 2007 the creation of a Genocide Prevention Task 

Force. Madeleine Albright’s opening statement captures the 

problems that policy makers face when confronted with mass 

killings: “The world agrees that genocide is unacceptable and 

yet genocide and mass killings continue. Our challenge is to 

match words to deeds and stop allowing the unacceptable. That 

task, simple on the surface, is in fact one of the most persistent 

puzzles of our times. We have a duty to find the answer before 

the vow of ‘never again’ is once again betrayed.”13

Defining Genocide

Raphael Lemkin first coined the term “genocide” in 1944 as 

he struggled to convey Nazi extermination policies in his book 

Axis Rule in Occupied Europe.

14 Born in what was the Polish 

portion of the Russian Empire, young Lemkin had grown up 

under the shadow of pogrom and persecution as a Polish Jew. 

Graduating from Lvov law school in the 1920s, he felt drawn to 
INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

the topic of mass killings, studying the fate of the Armenians 

and of the Assyrian minority in Iraq. Well before the contours of 

the Holocaust became apparent, Lemkin proposed at a conference in 1933 that the League of Nations should ban the “crime 

of barbarity,” which he defined as the “premeditated destruction of national, racial, religious, and social collectives.”15 The 

rise of the Nazi party in Germany and deepening anti-Semitism 

throughout Eastern Europe signaled that the topic was of more 

than academic interest. When the Wehrmacht stormed into Poland in 1939, Lemkin sought refuge first in Sweden and then in 

the United States. Deeply concerned about the fate of those 

now under German rule, he devoted himself to assembling the 

laws, orders, and decrees that chronicled Nazi policy toward 

Europe’s occupied peoples, particularly its Jews. His massive 

712-page study sought to document Nazi policy, and introduced the term genocide into the English vocabulary.16

At Nuremberg and in various postwar trials, the Allies had 

charged and prosecuted German organizations and individuals 

with planning, initiating, and waging wars of aggression; conspiring to commit crimes against peace; committing war crimes; 

and committing crimes against humanity. Lemkin advised the 

US chief counsel at the Nuremberg Trials and continued to 

campaign for an international law criminalizing genocide. In 

December 1946, the General Assembly of the young United Nations passed a resolution condemning genocide and tasking a 

committee to draft an international treaty banning it.

Committee members engaged with drafting the convention 

devoted much discussion and debate to defining genocide. What 

distinguished genocide from other forms of mass death, such 

as famine or war? How should the crime be defined so that the 

Soviets—guilty of their own mass murders—would not obstruct 

the treaty?17 And how could the treaty be made meaningful as 

a measure designed to stop the process of mass killing rather 

than simply punish those responsible after its completion? 

By 1948 the committee had completed its task. Articles 2 

and 3 of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of 

the Crime of Genocide defined both the concept of genocide and 

what acts would be deemed punishable:
INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

Article 2

In the present Convention, genocide means any of the following acts 

committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, 

racial or religious group, as such:

(a) Killing members of the group;

(b) Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;

(c) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to 

bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part;

(d) Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group;

(e) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.

Article 3

The following acts shall be punishable:

(a) Genocide;

(b) Conspiracy to commit genocide;

(c) Direct and public incitement to commit genocide;

(d) Attempt to commit genocide;

(e) Complicity in genocide.18

The effectiveness of the Convention on the Prevention and 

Punishment of the Crime of Genocide has been limited. Adopted 

by a resolution of the General Assembly in December 1948, the 

convention required ratification by 20 members of the United 

Nations before coming into force. By October 1950, 20 states 

had ratified the convention, but the United States was not 

among them. Initially, the American Bar Association and 

southern senators opposed the treaty due to the ambiguities of 

article 2. Later, conservatives opposed the convention due to 

concerns about US sovereignty. But its supporters never abandoned the issue, with Senator William Proxmire delivering some 

3,211 speeches on the topic between 1967 and 1986.19 With 

Pres. Ronald Reagan’s strong support, the Senate finally ratified the convention in 1986, dragging its feet another two years 

before passing the Genocide Convention Implementation Act in 

October 1988.

After exerting little influence for 40-odd years, the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide became an important reference point for tribunals, courts, 

and legal cases in the 1990s and twenty-first century. The International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, the Inter-
INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

national Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, the International Court 

of Justice, and the International Criminal Court have all tried 

perpetrators of genocide, drawing upon the convention’s definition of genocide. Yet Lemkin, Proxmire, and others had hoped 

that the Convention would be an effective tool for preventing 

genocide, with article 8 calling the “United Nations to take such 

action under the Charter of the United Nations as they consider appropriate for the prevention and suppression of acts of 

genocide or any of the other acts enumerated in article 3.” 

Here the record is less encouraging. During the Cold War, 

the international community made no effort to invoke the 

convention while Mao Tse-tung’s Great Leap Forward and 

Cultural Revolution killed millions of Chinese between 1958 

and 1968, when Suharto’s anticommunist campaign in Indonesia targeted entire villages for liquidation in 1965–66, when 

Pakistan’s civil war veered toward genocidal mayhem in 1971, 

or when the Khmer Rouge eliminated an estimated 20 percent 

of the Cambodian population between 1975 and 1979.20 The 

US accession to the convention in 1988 and the end of the 

Cold War did not render the international community any 

more effective at stopping mass killings, with some 800,000 

Tutsis slaughtered by Hutu extremists in Rwanda in April–

July 1994 and with UN peacekeepers helplessly looking on 

the next year as Serb forces rounded up some 7,000 Bosnian 

men and boys for execution at Srebrenica.21 Indeed, during 

the Rwandan genocide, the State Department and National 

Security Council deliberately avoided using the term genocide 

precisely because they feared that use of the term might compel some sort of action.22

This fear proved misplaced. In 1995 and 1999 NATO intervened to stop ethnic cleansing and war in Bosnia and Kosovo, 

subsequently stationing robust peacekeeping forces in the 

region. Sickened by the violence on NATO’s doorstep and 

fearful that further inaction would undermine the alliance’s 

credibility, European and American leaders responded out of 

both perceived national interest and humanitarian concern 

without directly invoking the genocide convention. Ten years 

after the Rwandan genocide, the United Nations and the 

United States began to directly invoke the term as the killings in the Darfur region of Sudan mounted. On 7 April 2004, 
INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

UN secretary general Kofi Annan announced an Action Plan 

to Prevent Genocide, subsequently appointing a Special Advisor on Genocide Prevention.23 Later that year, the US secretary of state, Colin Powell, specifically termed the crisis in 

Darfur a genocide.24 Yet only after protracted and difficult 

negotiations did the contours of an effective intervention 

force become apparent. In July 2007, UN Security Council 

Resolution (UNSCR) 1769 was unanimously adopted, authorizing a joint United Nations–African Union (UN–AU) peacekeeping force with a projected number of some 20,000 troops, 

more than 6,000 police, and a significant civilian component.25 Three years had elapsed between Annan’s “Action Plan” 

and the UN resolution. Despite rhetorical support for stopping genocide from the White House and the State Department, as of January 2008 UN–AU mission in Darfur, (UNAMID), the joint African Union/United Nations hybrid operation 

that replaced the African Union operation in Darfur, still 

lacks helicopters. UN secretary general Ban Ki-moon remarked that “In the past weeks and months, I have contacted, personally, every possible contributor of helicopters—

in the Americas, in Europe, in Asia. And yet, not one 

helicopter has been made available yet.”26

The Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the 

Crime of Genocide clearly defines genocide and associated acts 

in articles 1 and 2, and opens the door for contracting parties 

to “call upon the competent organs of the United Nations to 

take such action under the Charter of the United Nations as 

they consider appropriate for the prevention and suppression 

of acts of genocide or any of the other acts enumerated in article 3.”27 Yet the treaty has been disappointing in its effect: for 

much of the Cold War, nations simply ignored the convention 

and even during the post–Cold War era, signatories have been 

slow and reluctant to put speedy and effective intervention 

forces at the United Nations’ disposal. Despite this, the treaty 

should not be dismissed as entirely ineffective: the special tribunals set up by the United Nations to try responsible parties 

for crimes of genocide, war crimes, and gross infractions of international law may well exert a deterrent effect on groups contemplating mass murder.
INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

The Related Concepts

Democide and Politicide

The concept of genocide is useful, communicating the intent 

to exterminate people for who they are rather than what they 

do. By using the term genocide, one conveys that people are 

being targeted because of their membership in a group rather 

than because of any particular action on their part. In war, 

enemy soldiers and combatants are targeted because of their 

contributions to the enemy’s war effort. Theoretically, once soldiers have surrendered or once combatant civilians (those 

working in arms factories, etc.) cease contributing to their nation’s war effort, they become noncombatants and are no longer legitimate targets of war. In genocide the targeted individual 

typically does not have this option: Turks targeted Armenians 

simply because they were Armenians, Nazis targeted Jews simply 

because they were Jews, and Hutus targeted Tutsis because 

they were Tutsi. 

In framing the legal definition of genocide, those drafting 

the genocide convention restricted the concept of group identity to national, ethnical, racial, or religious groups. Given 

that the Soviets would have blocked any measure that broadened the concept to include political and social groups, this 

was unavoidable at the time the convention was framed in the 

late 1940s. Thus Stalinist killings, Indonesian massacres, 

and Mao’s bloody repressions did not fall within the legal definition of genocide. Yet since the end of the Cold War, academics, journalists, politicians, and the general public have tended 

to use the term more broadly and include mass killings based 

on other forms of group identity. Comparative studies of genocide typically include the Stalinist extermination of the Kulaks, the Khmer Rouge elimination of intellectuals and city 

dwellers, and Mao’s mass killings.28 A number of authors have 

pushed the concept further to include political murder, such 

as Argentina’s dirty war, and even strategic air campaigns 

that have targeted civilians.29

R. J. Rummel, a political scientist, has noted the discrepancy 

between the treaty definition of genocide, the expanded popular conception of the term, and related mass killings. He proposes that we adopt an alternative term, democide, encompass-
INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

ing genocide (“the killing of people by a government because of 

their indelible group membership”), politicide (“the murder of 

any person or people by a government because of their politics 

or for political purposes”), and mass murder (“the indiscriminate killing of any person or people by a government”). Rummel’s influential Death by Government (1994) and Statistics of 

Democide: Genocide and Mass Murder since 1900 (1995) provide statistical examinations of each of these categories, arriving at the chilling conclusion that perhaps 262 million people 

died as a result of democide in the twentieth century.30 Rummel correctly argues that one should include politicide alongside genocide in assessing government-sanctioned mass murder. Yet by arguing that civilians and prisoners of war killed by 

starvation, indiscriminate bombing and shelling, and neglect 

during times of war are victims of mass murder rather than 

war, Rummel obscures the reality that war has always encompassed deaths beyond the battlefield.31 The sieges of antiquity, 

Genghis Khan’s use of terror as a tool, British and German attempts to cut the flow of food to each other in both world wars, 

and the concept of nuclear deterrence all encompassed death 

beyond the battlefield.

Rummel’s key finding—that totalitarian regimes engage in 

more democidal behavior than democratic regimes—lends itself to misuse as a policy prescription.32 For Rummel, democide, war, and even famine have one simple solution, freedom: “To foster freedom is to foster a solution to war and 

democide, and to minimize domestic collective violence.”33

Promoting democracy as a long-term strategy may decrease 

the frequency of war and democide, but the jury is still out 

on the subject.34 As a preventive and interventionist tool, 

stopping democide by the forcible overthrow of a regime has 

proven costly, ineffective, and diplomatically isolating. Addressing the goal of preventing and stopping genocide will 

prove difficult enough, but in contrast with the neoconservative agenda, that goal enjoys broad international support, 

with over 130 countries having publicly committed themselves to the undertaking.35
INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

10

Recognizing the Stages and Likelihood 

of Genocide and Mass Killings

In order to prevent and stop genocide, one has to recognize 

its warning signs. This entails understanding the stages and 

steps towards genocide, assessing the likelihood of genocide, 

and then formulating preventive and interventionist responses. 

The Genocide Intervention Network, the USHMM Committee on 

Conscience, Genocide Watch, Prevent Genocide International, 

and various other nongovernmental organizations now issue 

specific alerts regarding potential and ongoing genocides, joining organizations with a broader mandate such as the International Red Cross, Amnesty International, and Human Rights 

Watch.36 The Genocide Intervention Network and the USHMM 

Committee on Conscience do so by providing action alerts and 

listing areas of concern. Genocide Watch ranks crises as genocide emergencies when “genocide is actually under way,” genocide warnings when “politicide or genocide is imminent,” and 

genocide watches when “early warning signs indicate the danger of mass killing or genocide.”37

The concept of analyzing genocide structurally and identifying its stages owes much to pioneering studies of the Holocaust. Raul Hilberg’s The Destruction of the European Jews has 

proven particularly influential.38 Hilberg, like Lemkin, fled Nazi 

rule and settled in the United States. He attended Abraham 

Lincoln High School in Brooklyn, served in the US Army, and 

participated in the US Army’s War Documentation, which assembled German records for use in postwar trials and for historical purposes.39 His Columbia dissertation (1955) broke new 

ground by analyzing the structure and process of the Final Solution. Five publishers turned down the manuscript due to its 

length and subject matter, but since its initial publication in 

1961, Hilberg’s work has become an essential, if controversial, 

reference point.40

The Destruction of the European Jews provoked debate because it asserted that traditional Jewish strategies for dealing 

with force and persecution had failed disastrously during the 

1930s and 1940s. Hilberg noted that many German policies, 

ranging from laws banning Jews from certain jobs to decrees 

assembling them into ghettos to requirements for distinct cloth-
11

INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

ing, had historical precedence. He asserted that Jewish communities had over the centuries focused on alleviating the impact of discriminatory policies while generally complying with 

rather than confronting state policies. This tendency toward 

alleviation, evasion, paralysis, and compliance rather than resistance served Jewish communities well during the medieval 

and early modern period, but Hilberg claimed that it failed to 

recognize the contours of the process of genocide.41 And it is 

here that Hilberg has been most influential: his discussion of 

the structure of destruction laid a model for understanding 

how the Holocaust had been very different from the pogroms, 

massacres, and communal violence to which Jewish people 

had been long subjected.

Hilberg concluded that the Final Solution involved a number of steps. First, the Nazi state had to define who was a Jew. 

This initial step proved more complicated than anticipated, in 

that Nazi racial ideology had abandoned religious definitions 

of Jew and Christian in favor of racial categories of Jew and 

Aryan. If laws banning Jewish employment and ownership 

were to be enforced, lawyers would have to clarify the status 

of children of mixed ancestry, determine whether exceptions 

should be made for Jewish veterans, and decide whether or 

not converted Jews should be subjected to these policies. 

Next, Jews found themselves the targets of expropriation, as 

Jewish firms were seized, as special taxes and levies were 

passed, and as family property and savings were confiscated. 

Expropriation led to concentration, as Jews were turned out 

of their houses, crowded into ghettoes, and exploited as forced 

labor. Concentration in turn enabled more efficient annihilation, whether by mobile killing operations, by working Jews to 

death, or by the industrialized process of gassing large groups 

in specially designed gas chambers.

Hilberg’s structural analysis of the destruction of Europe’s 

Jews, laid out in figure 1, has been adopted and disseminated 

widely. Clearly laying out the stages and steps involved in the 

murder of some six million European Jews, Hilberg provided a 

structural analysis to which others have turned in seeking to 

understand other mass killings and genocides.

Hilberg’s model seeks to explain the stages that led to the 

Holocaust, a uniquely modern horror which prompted Lemkin 
INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

12

to conceive of the term genocide. Since its publication, the 

world has experienced additional mass killings, establishing 

the necessity for a broader, more general model for understanding genocide. Gregory Stanton, drawn to the field of genocide 

studies due to his early involvement in examining the Cambodian killing fields, has proposed the following schema, noting 

that “prevention of genocide requires a structural understanding of the genocidal process.”42 Stanton believes that genocides 

typically develop through eight states as described below:

Figure 1. Hilberg’s structural analysis of the destruction of the European Jews. 

Adapted from Raul Hilberg, The Destruction of the European Jews. (London: W. H. 

Allen, 1961).

Classification 

Distinguishing between different groups of people, establishing “us” and “them” categories. 

Definition

Expropriation

Concentration

Emigration

Mobile killing operations 

in occupied USSR

Deportations and killing center 

operations in rest of Axis Europe

Emigration

Emigration
13

INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

Symbolization 

Identifying certain symbols with out groups, using either customary dress or government imposed identifying 

symbols or distinctive clothing. 

Dehumanization 

Associating targeted groups with repellent animals or 

microbes. Stanton gives the examples of Nazis calling Jews 

“vermin,” Rwandan Hutu hate radio referring to Tutsis as 

“cockroaches.” 

Organization

Formation of groups and institutions ranging from mobs 

to militias to advanced bureaucracies that support and 

implement the genocide process. 

Polarization

The deliberate, systematic effort to cut social connections 

between targeted groups and the broader society. Stanton 

notes that “the first to be killed in a genocide are moderates from the killing group who oppose the extremists.” 

Preparation

Stanton borrows from Hilberg, noting that preparation 

involves identifying those targeted, expropriating their 

property, concentrating the victims, and in the most extreme cases, building facilities for extermination. 

Extermination

Killing the targeted out group. 

Denial

Stanton adds an eighth stage, denial, to the process. He 

notes that typically records of the killing are burned, international accusations dismissed, and efforts are made 

to cover up the killings.43
INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

14

As president of Genocide Watch, Stanton combines the attributes of activist, advocate, and scholar. His schema, fully 

developed on Genocide Watch’s Web site, provides a conceptual 

model for understanding genocide, with Stanton providing examples of preventive measures that can be taken at each step.

Barbara Harff, a political scientist at the US Naval Academy, 

has added to our understanding of the genocide process by 

analyzing its causal factors. Using a comparative, empirical approach, Harff has sought to identify key factors that should 

provide warning signs of possible genocide. The factors she 

identifies as contributing to its occurrence include: (1) prior 

incidents of genocide or politicide in the region, (2) a high degree of political upheaval, (3) a ruling elite defined in terms of 

ethnicity, (4) a “belief system that . . . justifies efforts to restrict, 

persecute, or eliminate certain categories of people,” (5) an autocratic form of government, and (6) a trade system opposed to 

openness.44

Harff notes that her social scientific approach is “not enough 

to tell us . . . precisely when genocidal violence is likely to begin,” but she believes that an effort to systematically assess the 

risk of genocide improves the prospects for prevention and 

early response. Her work moves beyond Hilberg and Stanton’s 

work of analyzing how genocide takes place, and engages the 

question of why genocide occurs. 

Prevention and the Responsibility to Protect

Survivors, scholars, and activists have pushed our understanding of genocide and mass killings a good deal further than 

the legalistic definitions of the genocide convention. We now 

have well-researched models that explain mass killings as a 

process and identify the factors that contribute to its onset. 

Numerous organizations provide updates on global areas of 

concern, issuing watches, warnings, and emergency declarations. Yet despite this knowledge, it has become clear that information alone provides neither the impetus to intervene nor 

guidance on how to prevent or stop mass killing. A growing 

community of individuals, think tanks, and governments now 

advocate that the international community’s has the “responsibility to protect” (R2P). Rather than focusing on specific ter-
15

INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

minology, proponents of R2P argue that the international community has the responsibility to protect civilians when states 

fail to do so themselves. Whether victims of genocide, ethnic 

cleansing, intentional famine, or indiscriminate war, civilians 

subjected to mass killing have a right to protection. And when 

their governments and rulers fail to provide that basic right, 

then the international community has the responsibility and 

duty to do so.45

Secretary General Kofi Annan, who headed the United Nations’ 

Department of Peacekeeping Operations during the Rwandan 

genocide, appointed a panel in 2000 tasked with undertaking 

“a thorough review of the United Nations peace and security 

activities” and presenting a “clear set of specific, concrete and 

practical recommendations to assist the United Nations.”46 

Among its recommendations, the panel advised that the United 

Nations should develop its “ability to fully deploy traditional 

peacekeeping operations within 30 days of the adoption of a 

Security Council resolution establishing such an operation, 

and within 90 days in the case of complex peacekeeping operations.” Moreover, UN peacekeepers who witnessed violence 

against civilians were to presume that they were authorized to 

intervene. 

While the panel thereby recognized the responsibility of UN 

peacekeepers to protect civilians from violence, it cautioned 

“the United Nations does not wage war. Where enforcement action is required, it has consistently been entrusted to coalitions 

of willing States, with the authorization of the Security Council, 

acting under Chapter VII of the Charter.”47

Given that genocide occurs most frequently during times of 

war—either because perpetrators use the cover of war to justify 

eliminating racial, religious, or political groups or as part of a 

counterinsurgency—the UN model of chapter 6 peacekeeping 

operations is inappropriate. Noting that chapter 7 enforcement 

actions would fall to coalitions of the willing, the Canadian government established an International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (ICISS) in September 2000. The 

commission’s report, issued in December 2001, has become 

the blueprint for the concept of R2P.

Citing the experience and aftermath of Somalia, Rwanda, 

Srebrenica, and Kosovo, the ICISS asserted that “when a par-
INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

16

ticular state is clearly either unwilling or unable to fulfill its 

responsibility to protect or is itself the actual perpetrator of 

crimes or atrocities” the broader community of states has a 

responsibility to intervene. The commission broke down the responsibility to protect into preventive, reactive, and rebuilding 

components, seeking to change the terms of the international 

debate on intervention from right to responsibility.

The ICISS report has spurred numerous ongoing efforts that 

seek to explore how, when, by whom, and under what authorization protective interventions should take place. In the United 

States, the Henry L. Stimson Center in Washington, DC, has a 

vibrant program exploring “The Future of Peace Operations.”48

Harvard’s Carr Center for Human Rights Policy and the US 

Army’s Peacekeeping and Stability Operations Institute are cooperating on the Mass Atrocity Response Operations Project, 

which seeks to develop “credible and realistic operational 

planning for responding to genocide and mass atrocity.”49

Most recently, the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, the American Academy of Diplomacy, and the United 

States Institute of Peace convened a Genocide Prevention 

Task Force charged with issuing a report on genocide prevention and intervention by December 2008.50 The concept 

of R2P is gathering momentum, shifting the focus of debate 

from the legalities of the genocide convention to the practicalities 

of prevention and intervention. R2P is ambitious, advocating that 

the community of states intervenes when one of its members fails 

to protect its own citizens, is the agent of ethnic cleansing, genocide, or the deliberate targeting of civilian populations in times of 

war. Preventing and stopping genocide, broadly defined, would 

be a first, important step toward a world where mass murderers cannot hide behind the veil of state sovereignty.

One can take two approaches to devising strategies for preventing and stopping mass killings. One approach is to think in 

terms of generic scenarios and broad, general strategies. This 

approach might be termed the doctrine approach where generally accepted best practices are promulgated to be adapted as 

called for by the specific situation. Another approach, most 

suitable when there are no generally accepted best practices, is 

the historical approach. Context rich, the historical approach 

looks at specific scenarios, examines the historical record, and 
17

INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

advances recommendations based on concrete case studies. 

This monograph takes the second approach, trusting that a full 

understanding of context and culture is required in devising 

strategies of prevention and intervention. 

Notes

All notes appear in shortened form. For full details, see the appropriate entry 

in the Bibliography.

1. Hilberg, The Destruction of the European Jews, 1961.

2. Save Darfur Coalition, “September Briefing Paper.”

3. “News Monitors,” Genocide Watch, http://www.genocidewatch.org/

resources/newsmonitors.html (accessed 28 January 2008).

4. The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum’s Committee on Conscience maintains a Web site on “Responding to Threats of Genocide Today” 

at http://www.ushmm.org/conscience/.

5. Power, A Problem from Hell. Power now teaches at Harvard’s John F. 

Kennedy School of Government, where she was the founding executive director of the Carr Center for Human Rights Policy.

6. Visit the Web sites of the Montreal Institute for Genocide and Human 

Rights Studies and Yale University’s Genocide Studies Program (http://migs

.concordia.ca/ and http://www.yale.edu/gsp/) for a sense of the interaction 

between scholarship and activism. Dozens of other universities have established or expanded genocide programs and institutes, among them Northwestern University, the University of Vermont, the University of Minnesota, 

and the University of Nevada at Reno. For a sense of the number of programs, 

see Yale University’s links to genocide programs at http://www.yale.edu/

gsp/links/index.html.

7. For a history of Students Taking Action Now: Darfur and its current 

campaigns, see http://standnow.org/. While still dedicated to generating 

support for action in Darfur, the student group has renamed itself the Student Anti-Genocide Coalition, and has become this generation’s equivalent to 

the antiapartheid student movement of the 1980s.

8. The White House, The National Security Strategy, 2002, 6. http://www

.whitehouse.gov/nsc/nss/2002/index.html.

9. The White House, The National Security Strategy, 2006, 17. Bush reemphasized that the United States opposes genocide in his State of the Union 

speech of 28 January 2008, transcript available at http://www.whitehouse

.gov/news/releases/2008/01/20080128-13.html (accessed 29 January 2008).

10. See Jerry Fowler’s interview with Senator Brownback on Vital Voices 

on Genocide Prevention, a podcasting service of the United States Holocaust 

Memorial Museum at http://www.ushmm.org/conscience/analysis/details

.php?content=2005-11-24 (podcast, 24 November 2005).

11. For a summary of antigenocide acts, resolutions, and amendments 

passed or pending in the House and Senate, consult DarfurScore.org’s Web 
INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

18

site which grades representatives and senators on their contributions to 

stopping genocide. The scorecard, sponsored by Genocide Intervention Network, can be accessed at http://www.darfurscores.org/darfur-legislation.

12. See the Department of State press release of 19 September 2006 regarding Andrew Natsios appointment at http://www.state.gov/r/pa/prs/

ps/2006/72830.htm.

13. US Holocaust and Memorial Museum press release, 13 November 2007, 

on the establishment of the Genocide Prevention Task Force, available at 

http://www.ushmm.org/conscience/taskforce/press/?content=2007-11-13. 

The task force includes Senator John Danforth, Senator Tom Daschle, Amb 

Stuart Eizenstat, Mr. Michael Gerson, Secretary Dan Glickman, Secretary 

Jack Kemp, Judge Gabrielle Kirk McDonald, Amb Tom Pickering, Ms. Julia 

Taft, Mr. Vin Weber, and Gen Anthony Zinni.

14. Lemkin, Axis Rule in Occupied Europe.

15. Power, A Problem from Hell, 21.

16. Ibid., 21, 38–40.

17. Weiss-Wendt, “Hostage of Politics,” 552.

18. United Nations, “Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the 

Crime of Genocide.”

19. Power, A Problem from Hell, 166.

20. Kiernan, “The Cambodian Genocide—1975–1979,” 348.

21. Totten, Parsons, and Charny, Century of Genocide, 265. 

22. The guidelines reportedly instructed government spokesmen to only use 

the term “acts of genocide” rather than genocide. Orentlicher, “Genocide,” 2.

23. Annan, “Action Plan to Prevent Genocide.”

24. Robert McMahon, “UN: Powell Calls Darfur Atrocities ‘Genocide.’ ”

25. Peace and Security Section, the United Nations Department of Public 

Information, “The United Nations and Darfur.”

26. Ibid.

27. United Nations, “Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the 

Crime of Genocide.”

28. See for examples Kiernan, Blood and Soil; Totten, Bartrop, and Jacobs, 

Dictionary of Genocide; Totten, Parsons, and Charny, Century of Genocide; 

Valentino, Final Solutions; and Weitz, A Century of Genocide.

29. Hewitt’s reader Defining the Horrific, designed for undergraduate 

courses on genocide, includes a chapter on Argentina and Guatemala as well 

as a chapter on the atomic bomb.

30. Rummel, Death by Government; and Rummel, Statistics of Democide. 

Rummel continues to update and change his estimates of civilian deaths at 

his Web site at the University of Hawaii at http://www.hawaii.edu/powerkills/

welcome.html.

31. Rummel has argued that war has not been the twentieth century’s 

biggest killer, but makes this case by comparing battlefield deaths against 

democide. He places the myriad noncombatant casualties of war—helpless 

people killed in time of war, prisoners of war detained under conditions that 

cause their death, civilians killed as a result of indiscriminate bombing, or 

the starvation of civilians in time of war—under the category mass murder. 
19

INTRODUCTION TO GENOCIDE

Granted, the number of people killed by genocide, democide, and mass murder greatly exceeds those killed on the battlefield. But war’s death toll extends beyond the battlefield, with the Geneva conventions often ignored by 

belligerents, hence inflating the casualties of democide. Rummel, “Chapter 2: 

Definition of Democide.”

32. Rummel supported Bush’s “forward strategy of freedom” in 2003 and 

remains adamant in his support of the “democratic peace thesis.” See his postings on the subject at http://www.hawaii.edu/powerkills/COMM.12.1.03.HTM.

33. The quote from the introduction of R. J. Rummel’s Freedom’s Principles 

is available at http://www.hawaii.edu/powerkills/FREEDOM’S.PRINCIPLES

.HTM. For a more elaborate development of his idea that freedom is the cure 

for war, democide, and famine, see Rummel, Never Again.

34. For a critique of the democratic peace thesis, see Henderson, Democracy and War.

35. Prevent Genocide International lists 137 members as having ratified 

the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide. 

Prevent Genocide International, “Information on the Genocide Convention.”

36. See also http://www.genocidewatch.org/ and http://www.genocide 

intervention.net/.

37. Genocide Watch, “Genocide Watch has three levels of Genocide 

Alerts®.”

38. Hilberg, The Destruction of the European Jews, 1985. 

39. Hilberg obituary, International Herald Tribune.

40. Martin, “Raul Hilberg.”

41. Hilberg, The Destruction of the European Jews, 1985, 22. 

42. Stanton, “The Eight Stages of Genocide,” 1996.

43. Ibid., 1998.

44. Harff, “Assessing Risks of Genocide and Politicide.” For a more developed assessment, see Harff, “No Lessons Learned from the Holocaust?”

45. For a detailed discussion of the origins and trajectory of the “responsibility to protect” (R2P) movement, see Holt and Berkman, The Impossible 

Mandate?

46. United Nations, “Report of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations.”

47. Ibid., 10.

48. The Henry L. Stimson Center, “Research Programs: Future of Peace 

Operations Program.”

49. Harvard University, John F. Kennedy School of Government, The Carr 

Center for Human Rights Policy, “National Security and Human Rights Program.”

50. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. “Responding to Threats 

of Genocide Today.” 

21

Case Study 1

American Intervention in Africa

Building on the Lessons of Somalia

Lt Col Aaron Steffens, USAF

Before images of starving refugees began to appear on their 

television screens in 1992, most Americans had never heard of 

Somalia—a small, arid country in the Horn of Africa. Although 

it installed a parliamentary democracy after gaining independence from Italy and Great Britain in 1960, Somalia was ruled 

from 1969 to 1991 by a corrupt dictator named Siad Barre, 

who seized power in a military coup. By the summer of 1992, 

the nation had become a failed state embroiled in a bitter civil 

war. With no police, no banking system, no functioning schools 

or hospitals, and no government, Somalia descended into 

chaos. Thousands of Somalis were dying every day from starvation, sickness, and violence that some were calling genocide.1

The international intervention that followed has become synonymous with a single event—the Battle of Mogadishu on 3 

October 1993. On closer inspection, however, the challenges of 

what was actually a three-year operation have a great deal to 

offer the US military, especially in the broader context of Africa 

and the global war on terror. The US National Security Strategy

lists three factors that enable terrorist networks to embed in 

failed and failing states—poverty, weak institutions, and corruption—and all of these are particularly virulent in Africa.2

Although the American experience in Somalia occurred in its 

own peculiar context, it holds valuable lessons for future operations in Africa, particularly in the light of present nationbuilding efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan. At the strategic level, 

Somalia illustrates the importance of prevention over intervention, the criticality of timing, and the abilities and inherent 

weaknesses of the United Nations. Operationally, it offers a 

clear warning to those who would intervene in weak and failing 

states—if the desired end state is long-term stability, there are 
AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

22

no shortcuts. A lasting resolution necessitates political reconstruction, disarmament, unified effort, and a commitment to 

potential combat operations. Furthermore, achieving these objectives in the context of a politically viable intervention in Africa 

will require a radical shift in the US regional command structure 

and the ways in which American forces interact with African coalition partners and organizations.

Background

Although the violence and killing that precipitated international intervention has been termed genocide, the word fits 

uneasily in the context of the Somali situation. The United Nations Genocide Convention of 1948 defined genocide as the annihilation of not just national, but ethnic, racial, and religious 

groups.3 Native Somalis, however, belong to a single racial and 

ethnic group, and they share a common religious and cultural 

tradition.4 Mass killing, defined as the intentional killing of a 

massive number of noncombatants, is a more appropriate term 

for the violence, starvation, and death that wracked Somalia in 

the long period leading up to intervention.5

The regime of Siad Barre not only began the mass killings of 

Somali noncombatants, but in many ways it laid the catastrophic foundation for the cycle of brutality that would escalate once the regime itself imploded. Fueled by pan-Somali nationalism, Somalia invaded Ethiopia in 1977 in a bid to reclaim 

the Ogaden region, home to the ethnically Somali Ogadeni 

tribe. A bitter defeat by the Ethiopians, however, began the unraveling of Somali national unity and led to the first coup 

against Barre.6 In retaliation, the Red Berets, members of 

Barre’s personal bodyguard, massacred over 2,000 noncombatants, including women and children; their only crime was clan 

affiliation with an army officer involved in the coup.7

The disastrous Ogaden war unleashed a number of forces 

that eventually led to civil war. Most importantly for Siad Barre, 

the Ogadeni clan formed the bulk of Somali military leadership; when Barre renounced Somali claims to the Ogaden, he 

betrayed the group that had largely kept him in power since 

1969.8 As disaffection with Barre’s regime continued to grow, 
23

AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

government repression, and the mass killings it spawned, grew 

at a similar rate.

The Isaaq clan and its political element, the Somali National 

Movement (SNM), suffered a particularly compelling fate. After 

the SNM launched a military campaign in 1988 that occupied 

the cities of Burao and Hargeysa, government forces bombarded and destroyed both cities. From May to December of 

1988, savage reprisals against the remaining Isaaq resulted in 

over 5,000 noncombatant deaths.9 In addition, large numbers 

of the 300,000 Isaaq refugees who attempted to flee to Ethiopia 

were robbed and executed by regime forces; many were even 

strafed by the Somali Air Force. Africa Watch estimates that the 

Somali government killed over 50,000 Isaaq noncombatants 

from June 1988 to January 1990.10

At the same time, Siad Barre’s grip on power was slipping 

fast. Torture and executions wracked the capital city of Mogadishu and its surroundings during his final days. Red Berets 

slaughtered 450 religious demonstrators on 14 July 1989. The 

next day, 47 primarily Isaaq civilians were executed en masse 

at a beach west of the city, and 65 noncombatants were gunned 

down on 6 July 1990 by Red Berets at a soccer stadium.11 Siad 

Barre and his supporters finally fled Mogadishu in January 

1991, ousted by a temporary coalition of insurgent groups led 

by the United Somali Congress (USC). Unfortunately for Somalia, 

the only common objective of the many insurgent factions was 

Barre’s overthrow. All the groups were organized along clan 

lines with vague and shifting political and ideological manifestos. Inherently unstable, each faction began to unravel and vie 

for supremacy as soon as the dictator fled.12

In fact, the USC itself splintered almost immediately into two 

sides—that of Mohamed Farah Aideed, the USC’s main military 

commander, who controlled the Habr Gedir subclan, and that 

of Ali Mahdi Mohamed, a wealthy Mogadishu hotelier and selfproclaimed interim president of Somalia, who controlled the 

Abgal subclan. Neither side showed any restraint in targeting 

civilians of the opposite clan. Africa Watch estimates that in 

Mogadishu alone, 14,000 people were killed and 27,000 

wounded between 17 November 1991 and 29 February 1992.13

The US-based Somali Community of the Americas, an admittedly anti-USC peace-advocacy group, reports that USC death 
AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

24

squads executed hundreds of prominent intellectuals, businessmen, elders, and community leaders.14

Southern Somalia witnessed a brutal series of sweeps and 

occupations, first by Barre’s retreating forces, then by Aideedled USC forces, and finally by the Somali National Front (SNF). 

Each faction looted food stored in underground silos, stole or 

killed livestock, ruined wells, raped women of various clans, 

and killed men of opposing clans to prevent them from taking 

up arms.15 These southern areas encompassed Somalia’s richest farmlands, and the disruption caused by civil war, coupled 

with an intense drought, spurred a famine of epic proportions. 

By mid-1992, nearly all children in rural areas were reportedly 

suffering from malnutrition, and the death toll from starvation 

was estimated at 400,000 for the year.16

While many factors, including environmental ones, shaped 

the Somali famine, the specter of intentional mass killing was 

omnipresent. Control of food became the key to power and 

profit, and internationally donated aid was stolen, extorted, 

and hoarded by warring factions.17 In fact, Africa Watch claims 

that the atrocities of the civil war and the use of food denial as 

a weapon were far more responsible for the massive starvation 

than the drought.18

Motivation

The segmented clan system at the heart of Somali society is 

critical to understanding the mass killing that wracked the 

country for many years. Although traditional Somali institutions and customary authorities had always existed outside the 

clan system, occupying colonial powers began discarding these 

in the first half of the twentieth century, and Siad Barre and 

Somali nationalists continued the task in the second half. This 

was a prerequisite for the forced adaptation of a nomadic, pastoral society to the strictures of a centralized, authoritarian 

state ruled by a small, elite class; in this context, system failure 

seemed almost assured. As the state crumbled and economic 

crises deepened, Somalis were forced to seek support on the 

basis of generalized kinship—they pursued clan interests without restraint and at the expense of all else.19
25

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Mass killings, even the majority of those perpetrated by elements of Siad Barre’s regime, fell out along clan lines. Motivations among both leaders and their executioners were complex—

personal ambitions, clan rivalry, and a struggle for political 

power all played a role.20 In addition, the competition for natural 

resources, such as productive farmland, dry-season pastures, 

and fuel reserve was significant. Ample evidence suggests that 

the long-term land resource objectives of many clans may have 

contributed substantially to the violence.21

Early Opportunities Missed

As national catastrophes like this one develop, mediation, 

conflict resolution, and other diplomatic measures should be 

the first line of attack.22 Resort to military intervention in such 

a situation is like calling the fire department after the house is 

burning, the stove had been left on, smoke detectors were ignored, and household fire extinguishers were left unused. Accordingly, Mohamed Sahnoun, a well-regarded Algerian diplomat, has identified three specific instances representing classic 

crisis situations where the United Nations, and by extension 

the United States, might have intervened nonmilitarily without 

the expense and danger of calling the fire department.23 Sahnoun, deputy director of the Organization of African Unity (OAU) 

and later a special representative to Somalia for the United Nations, watched the Somali situation unfold firsthand.24

The first opportunity to intervene was the brutal suppression 

of Somali noncombatants by government security forces as the 

civil war unfolded in the late 1980s. These atrocities, and all 

that would follow, did not happen in a vacuum. Two human 

rights organizations, Amnesty International and Africa Watch, 

documented and denounced the mass killings as they proliferated.25 Interestingly, the US Department of State (DOS) and the 

US General Accounting Office published two of the most damning reports on the mass killings in 1989.26 Although the United 

States took modest steps—the suspension of military aid and 

the freezing of economic support funds—the international community at large, and most conspicuously the United Nations, 

failed to react.27
AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

26

The next opportunity happened in May 1990 after more than 

two years of civil war. A group of 144 prominent Somali intellectuals, business people, and tradesmen published a manifesto calling for the abolition of repressive laws, a multiparty 

political system, and a national reconciliation conference to end 

the civil war and prepare for national elections.28 Siad Barre’s 

reaction to the manifesto included arrests, contrived trials, and 

death sentences for 46 of the petition’s signatories.29 Although 

several countries, including the United States, suggested peace 

conferences and lodged diplomatic protests, “neither the UN 

nor the regional organizations were providing any leadership 

for serious mediation efforts, and the fragile and isolated endeavors of a few governments could have no impact.”30

Sahnoun suggests that the final opportunity appeared just 

after Siad Barre and his security forces fled Mogadishu. At that 

point, the rival forces of Ali Mahdi Mohamed and Mohamed 

Farah Aideed maintained a precarious cease-fire in the capital 

city. The government of Djibouti took the opportunity to sponsor a reconciliation conference to promote peace and forge a 

stable government for Somalia. Neither regional organizations 

nor the United Nations, whose staff had completely evacuated 

Somalia at that point, participated. Although a number of issues hampered the conference, Sahnoun claims it was a lack of 

both UN leadership and international pressure that led the way 

to failure.31

Whether the international community could have disrupted 

Somalia’s agonizing descent into anarchy is not certain, but 

awareness of that descent and the mass killings it engendered 

is unquestionable. The broader lesson is obvious but often unheeded—prevention is more effective and less expensive than 

rehabilitation.32 As the aforementioned opportunities came and 

went, James Woods, deputy assistant secretary of defense for 

African affairs during the crisis, recalls that Somalia was “still 

a third-tier issue in the Washington scheme of things.” The 

strategic value of Somalia had vanished along with the Cold 

War, and the interagency policy, operational, and intelligence 

desks assigned to the country were understaffed and short on 

information.33 Somaliland president Muhammad Ibrahim Egal, 

when questioned in 1997 about the reluctance of the international community to investigate recently unearthed mass graves, 
27

AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

summed up the Somali point of view. “I have now come to the 

conclusion that when this genocide was being executed . . . the 

international community watched with apathy. Nobody moved 

a finger to even object or condemn, let alone stop it. So, I think 

it is a sort of guilty conscience.”34

International Intervention: 

UN Operations in Somalia (UNOSOM)

Boutros Boutros-Ghali, the first UN secretary-general of the 

post–Cold War period, took the helm in January 1992 with a 

mandate for aggressive leadership. He envisioned a new role for 

the United Nations as the world’s principle peacemaker and 

peace enforcer.35 Coincident with Boutros-Ghali’s inauguration, 

Aideed and Ali Mahdi began the wholesale slaughter of noncombatants in Mogadishu with heavy artillery, finally piquing 

significant UN interest in Somalia. After several UN-brokered 

cease-fires of varying success, UNSCR 751 passed in April 1992, 

establishing the UN Operation in Somalia (UNOSOM) with 50 

UN observers, as well as provisions for more, under the direction 

of Mohamed Sahnoun.36

Sahnoun confronted a peacekeeper’s nightmare—grasping 

warlords, no government with which to negotiate, and a mounting humanitarian crisis. In particular, Aideed, deeply suspicious of the United Nations, remained in a continual power 

struggle with Ali Mahdi, whom Aideed felt was the object of UN 

favoritism. With increasing intransigence, Aideed succeeded in 

limiting UNOSOM in size, function, and, eventually, effectiveness.37 The UN leadership in New York facilitated Aideed’s success by focusing attentions solely on the Aideed–Ali Mahdi 

struggle, ignoring the hundreds of other Somali elders and leaders with whom Mohamed Sahnoun had successful dealings.38

In addition, Sahnoun was undercut by the inability of agencies such as the UN High Commission on Refugees (UNHCR) 

and the UN World Food Program (UNWFP) to organize successful aid distribution systems, to coordinate their efforts with 

each other, and to deal with UNOSOM.39 The final straw was a 

currency and weapons delivery to Ali Mahdi by a Russian aircraft with UN markings chartered by the UNWFP. UN leader-
AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

28

ship in New York was unwilling or unable to explain the debacle. 

Frustrated with UN bureaucracy, Mohamed Sahnoun resigned 

in October 1992, and UNOSOM soon ceased to be an effective 

force.40

Any analysis of UNOSOM’s accomplishments must be viewed 

in the context of its mandate—it was conceived and organized 

under UN Charter chapter 6 as a small, traditional peacekeeping operation to separate warring Somali parties and facilitate 

aid distribution.41 Indeed, by October 1992, UNOSOM’s efforts 

had resulted in a halt to fighting in Somalia outside Mogadishu 

and an anticipated Horn-of-Africa peace conference (actually 

held in 1993 in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia). On the other hand, 

UN missteps and Aideed’s propaganda had combined to make 

the United Nations an enemy to much of the Somali population, especially in volatile Mogadishu, further hampering the 

efforts of all relief organizations.42 So much so, that by November, all Mogadishu factions were shelling UN encampments and 

ships, looting warehouses, and obstructing aid convoys. Consequently, Boutros Boutros-Ghali recognized the need for a 

radical change in the UN Security Council’s mandate towards 

Somalia.43

American Involvement

As UNOSOM formed during the spring of 1992, the US government vacillated over the unfolding crisis. Although institutionalized checks and balances make the process slow, unwieldy, and often frustrating, there are common issues that 

generally drive democracies toward intervention. These include 

large refugee flows to developed states, the media spotlight on 

humanitarian suffering, continued defiance by unseemly rulers, and ineffective sanctions. In combination with the relative 

size and power of the country concerned and the likelihood of 

a successful outcome, all these factors coalesce into an imperative Karin von Hippel called the “Do Something” effect.44

By July 1992, the pressure on the Bush administration from 

Congress, aid agencies, and the public to do something about 

Somalia was intense.45 Concurrently, interest and involvement 

with the situation at the staff level, in the DOS, the Office of the 

Secretary of Defense (OSD), the Joint Staff (JS), and the Na-
29

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tional Security Council (NSC), had also increased dramatically.46 A flurry of interagency discussion, building on previous 

planning, produced four options for the president’s consideration: 

flooding Somalia with air-dropped food aid; auctioning highvalue food at low prices to Somali merchants; deploying US 

troops to strengthen UN peacekeeping forces already in place; 

and armed US intervention to establish a safe haven in southern Somalia.47

Airpower Intervention: Operation Provide Relief

On 13 August, the president chose a variation on the first 

option, and by 18 August, US Central Command (CENTCOM) 

had formed Joint Task Force-Operation Provide Relief (JTFOPR). JTF-OPR’s stated mission was the immediate airlift of 

food aid to Somalia and refugee camps in Kenya and the transport of personnel and equipment for additional UN security 

forces.48 Ten US Air Force (USAF) C-130 aircraft and 400 personnel were deployed to Mombasa, Kenya, 150 miles south of 

the Somali border, to begin air transport operations to UN and 

nongovernmental organization (NGO) agencies in the isolated 

interior.49 Along with Belgian, German, and Canadian military 

aircraft, USAF assets delivered 28,000 metric tons of critical 

supplies, some air-dropped, to isolated dirt airstrips in the 

most devastated areas of Somalia.50

JTF-OPR continued operations through February 1993, flying a total of 2,500 sorties. Overall, it succeeded admirably in 

providing an immediate response to the “Do Something” effect; 

extensive media images scored a public relations coup for the 

Bush administration, with minimal risk to US forces.51 The 

long-term results, however, are mired in controversy. Air Mobility Command (AMC), citing summary reports by two NGOs, 

claims that JTF-OPR played a crucial role in breaking the Somali famine.52 Other sources, including the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), conclude that the operation 

“had little impact on the famine and no impact on the continued banditry, extortion, and clan warfare that made emergency 

food delivery problematic.”53 Although true to a large extent, 

this argument misses the broader point. Only airpower has the 

ability to deliver large quantities of aid at a moment’s notice 
AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

30

into semihostile territory with almost no political repercussions. Time is critical in humanitarian assistance operations, 

and involvement on the ground with the politics of food distribution would have meant a significant increase in risk and a 

corresponding delay in initiation.54

An Unprecedented Effort: Operation Restore Hope

As UNOSOM was overcome by events in Somalia, November 

1992 brought an unprecedented opinion shift to the Washington interagency debate on intervention. Although CENTCOM 

leadership and the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS) had previously 

opposed intervention based on concerns about unclear objectives and a wishful exit strategy, planning at the JS J-3/Operations and J-5/Plans and Policy levels had continued throughout 

the fall.55 By November, the Deputies’ Committee of the NSC 

was facing intense political pressure—fighting had closed all 

Somali seaports, looting of airlifted food was rampant, UNOSOM 

was unable to venture outside its defensive compound, and the 

death toll continued to climb. In addition, the committee felt a 

growing interagency consensus that “US interests in global stability would be well served by a muscular UN peace enforcement capability to manage growing regional crises.”56 Once the 

JCS chairman, Gen Colin Powell, consented to intervention, 

momentum and consensus built rapidly within the NSC Deputies Committee, and three policy options were presented to the 

president on 25 November.57

The first option was risk averse and minimalist, calling for 

logistical support, protection, and firepower in support of an 

expanded contingent of 3,500 UN peacekeepers. No American 

troops would deploy on the ground in Somalia, but US airpower 

and sea power would be readily available to the UN forces. The 

second option, termed the “ball-peen hammer” option, involved 

5,000 US ground troops to secure the Somali seaports, airports, and main lines of communication in order to enable relief convoys into the famine zones. This plan included an extensive diplomatic component to ensure the cooperation of the 

various warlords, and it was the preferred interagency course 

of action. Finally, the “sledgehammer” option envisioned a fullscale, decisive intervention—15,000 troops with the required 
31

AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

logistics support for engineering, civil affairs, and reconstruction projects.58

Perhaps spurred by General Powell’s predilection for overwhelming force, Pres. George H. W. Bush, now a lame-duck 

politician, surprised most of his advisors by reaching for the 

“sledgehammer.” The administration quickly closed ranks, 

however; within 24 hours, Gen Joseph P. Hoar, CENTCOM 

commander, even received approval to double the troop contingent to 30,000. The public reasons for such a large-scale humanitarian intervention in the absence of a vital national interest were summarized by the president in an address to the 

American people—moral imperatives and a commitment to international stability required decisive action. Privately, a majority of government leadership sensed in Somalia an opportunity to “establish a foreign policy precedent on the cheap.” With 

the deployment of overwhelming force, Somalia became lowrisk, at least in theory, and it presented the opportunity to debut an unprecedented program of assertive multilateralism tailored to the destabilizing small wars and collapsing states of 

the post–Cold War era.59

Boutros Boutros-Ghali initially greeted the US contribution, 

expected to cost $450 million, as an answer to the United Nations’ problems in Somalia; although he had originally pushed 

for overall UN command of any operation, he quickly acquiesced to the US-led Unified Task Force (UNITAF). Organized 

under UN Charter chapter 7 as a peace-enforcement mission, 

UNITAF ostensibly had three functions: to secure Somalia’s 

main ports, airfields, and regional transport hubs; to open supply routes and secure feeding centers; and to create a secure 

environment for handoff to UNOSOM II, the follow-up to the UN 

Operation in Somalia mission.60 Building on the president’s 

strategic guidance, CENTCOM took great pains to sharply limit 

the scope of the operation.61 The civil-affairs and militarypolice training components that were part of the original policy 

concept were removed. In addition, the first drafts of UNSCR 

794, which authorized UNITAF, were written in the Pentagon 

specifically to satisfy CENTCOM concerns about mission creep 

towards any semblance of nation building.62

A total of 37,000 multinational troops, anchored by 24,000 

US marines and soldiers, deployed for Operation Restore Hope 
AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

32

under the command of Marine lieutenant general Robert B. 

Johnston beginning on 9 December. Two days prior, Robert 

Oakley, US special envoy to Somalia, had succeeded in forcing 

Aideed and Ali Mahdi into a temporary cease-fire for the duration of UNITAF’s mission. US diplomatic power, backed by tremendous military force, even compelled the two bitter warlords 

to shake hands for the media.63 Within a few weeks and with 

minimal casualties, UNITAF had opened ports, airfields, and 

highways; major cities in its area of operations were occupied 

and secure; and the famine and indirect mass killing of Somalis 

was stopped. In fact, Lieutenant General Johnston informed 

Washington in late January that “the war’s over, we won, it’s 

time to come home.”64 Although limited redeployments had begun by 20 January 1993, UN concern about a host of issues, 

including militia disarmament, kept UNITAF forces in Somalia 

until 4 May.65

Indeed, Boutros-Ghali and the United Nations were deeply 

concerned about self-imposed limits on UNITAF’s Operation 

Restore Hope mandate from the beginning of the operation. On 

8 December, the secretary-general wrote President Bush about 

the necessity of disarming irregular troops, establishing a secure environment outside of UNITAF’s designated area of operations, and ensuring that compatible political and humanitarian conditions were in place and maintained during the 

transfer to UNOSOM II.66 Key US political leaders, however, were 

often contradictory in their policy statements and directives, 

especially concerning the critical issue of disarmament.67 Thus, 

Johnston and Oakley, as the military and diplomatic leaders 

in-theater, had substantial authority to interpret policy as they 

saw fit—a result that had heavy implications for UNOSOM II.68

As seen through a strict construction lens—a short-term, 

limited mission focused only on humanitarian relief—Operation Restore Hope was a rousing success. Although UNITAF 

was not required to rebuild infrastructure, many roads and 

bridges were repaired; although it had no mandate for disarmament, some small arms and heavy weapons were seized; 

and although it was not directed to organize local forces, a substantial number of personnel was recruited and employed as 

police for local security operations.69 Critics charge that the 

failure to completely disarm the militias, which only UNITAF 
33

AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

had the coercive power to attempt, and the failure to establish 

basic social and political structures doomed the smaller, weaker, 

and less well-organized UNOSOM II to failure.70 In hindsight, 

these charges may be accurate, but they speak to a much 

broader critique of US and UN intervention policy—Johnston 

and UNITAF had fulfilled their missions, albeit narrowly interpreted, quickly and effectively.

Failure and Withdrawal: UNOSOM II

Although UNSCR 814 structured UNOSOM II as a chapter 7 

peace-enforcement operation, just like UNITAF, that is where 

any similarity ended. UNOSOM II was free to use “all necessary 

means” to carry out an historically broad mandate—the resurrection of a failed state—from disarmament to nation building. 

To accomplish this daunting task, Turkish general Cevik Bir, 

the military commander, and Adm Jonathan Howe, the secretarygeneral’s special representative, had less than 26,000 troops 

by September 1993, versus the 37,000 that deployed for UNITAF. 

In addition, they lacked sufficient numbers of armored vehicles 

and helicopters, many of their troops were poorly trained and 

ill equipped, and the majority of their forces deferred to homecountry instructions before following UN commands. US forces 

dwindled to 2,900 logistics support personnel and a quickreaction force of 1,100 troops offshore.71

Not surprisingly, the Somali warlords, who had lain low for 

UNITAF’s five-month tenure, began to reassert themselves almost immediately on UNOSOM II’s arrival. In particular, UN 

forces and Mohamed Aideed, who maintained an almost paranoid fear of marginalization, spent the month of May locked in 

a cycle of mutual antagonism.72 The posturing turned deadly 

on 5 June, when 24 virtually defenseless Pakistani soldiers 

were killed after their comrades performed an ill-advised and 

ill-coordinated weapons inspection at a radio station controlled 

by the Somali National Alliance (SNA), Aideed’s primary military arm. Outraged and fearing a worldwide loss of credibility, 

with the complete support of the US government, the United 

Nations acted quickly. UNSCR 837, calling for the arrest and 

punishment of those responsible, effectively created a state of 
AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

34

war between Aideed’s forces and UNOSOM II and, by extension, the United States.73

The war lasted four months and overturned the solid reconciliatory progress that had been made to that point. Somali 

culture requires a temporary end to hostilities, and sometimes 

even cooperation, between warring clans in the face of foreign 

threats, and the fight with Aideed began to systematically erode 

popular support for the United Nations.74 The turning point 

was a 12 July attack on an alleged SNA command center by US 

AH-1 Cobra attack helicopters that killed up to 70 traditional 

clan leaders and civilians, most of them unassociated with 

Aideed. The attack turned popular sentiment solidly against 

the UN intervention, and even USC forces loyal to Ali Mahdi 

began to display open contempt for UNOSOM II.75

In August Pres. Bill Clinton acquiesced to General Howe’s 

request for 400 additional US Army Special Forces soldiers, a 

group called Task Force Ranger. Although General Powell and 

Secretary of Defense Les Aspin were initially opposed to the 

escalation, they relented after an improvised explosive device 

killed four American soldiers. Still, Aspin refused a corollary 

request for additional armor and airpower assets, based on his 

desire to limit militarization and pursue a “coordinated economicpolitical-security approach.”76

Aspin was far from the only critic of UNOSOM II’s military 

obsession with Aideed. As repeated attempts to capture or kill 

the warlord failed and civilian casualties mounted, members of 

Congress, humanitarian NGOs, regional organizations, and even 

key UNOSOM II participants like Italy and France, all proclaimed 

the derailment of the United Nations’ economic and political 

rehabilitation mission by military preoccupations.77 Meanwhile, the US interagency community, led by Clinton’s new 

NSC Deputies Committee, was virtually schizophrenic in its 

pursuit of dueling agendas. Tremendous capital was expended 

in persuading and assisting the United Nations to fulfill its 

broad nation-building mandate. Simultaneously, and contrary 

to later assertions, the United States was “deeply and enthusiastically” engaged in the military confrontation with Aideed.78

That military confrontation climaxed on 3 October in the 

Battle of Mogadishu, with 18 US servicemen killed and 78 

wounded. Notably, the United Nations had few connections to 
35

AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

Task Force Ranger; its commander reported directly to CENTCOM, and US National Command Authority specifically approved 

each mission. President Clinton, hounded by congressional and 

public criticism, adopted a new policy focused on force protection while seeking a quick withdrawal under “circumstances 

other than humiliation.”79 This sent other countries scrambling 

for the exits and effectively ended the United Nations’ practical 

ability to succeed in its operation. All US forces withdrew by 31 

March 1994, while UNOSOM II lingered for almost a year, accomplishing little, until its mandate expired in March 1995.80

Strategic Lessons

They didn’t stop any fighting, they didn’t build the country. No water in Mogadishu, no electricity, no roads, 

rubbish everywhere, and they spent billions of dollars. 

What did they do with it? Instead of building things, 

they destroyed.

Mogadishu resident, March 1994

The popular American perception of the Somali operation—

as a series of UN missteps capped by a US military catastrophe—

is incomplete and misleading. While the reality is much more 

complex, Somalia’s current situation is indicative of the overall 

effectiveness of multinational efforts at change from 1991 to 

1995. The country remains an international basket case without an effective national government or significant prospects 

for reform. It is dominated by the petty interests of warlords, 

plagued by fits of violence, and hobbled by a never-ending series of humanitarian crises. Even worse from the US perspective, Somalia has the potential to become another focal point in 

the global war on terrorism. In May 2005, Maj Gen Sam Helland, commander of Combined Joint Task Force–Horn of Africa 

(CJTF-HOA), noted that Somalia is “ungoverned space,” and it 

has become a safe haven for terrorists in East Africa.81

Despite the glaring failure of the overall intervention, each of 

the distinct Somali operations brought limited successes and 

generated important lessons for future missions that are often 

overshadowed by the Battle of Mogadishu. Reactions to the battle 
AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

36

itself were swift—less than seven months later, in April 1994, 

the Clinton administration refused to respond to the horrific 

genocide in Rwanda. That same month the president issued 

Presidential Decision Directive 25 (PDD-25), a document that 

sharply curtailed the future of US armed humanitarian intervention and constituted a sea change from the assertive multilateralism adopted by the administration at its inauguration.82

The initiation of the global war on terror, however, portends 

a new era with increased stakes for operations like those conducted in Somalia—now defined in joint doctrine as complex 

contingency operations.83 In fact, the US National Defense 

Strategy points specifically to the reorientation of military capabilities to confront the “irregular challenges” exposed by US 

experience in the war on terrorism. Many of those challenges 

are posed by an absence of effective government in nations like 

Somalia that creates sanctuaries for terrorists, criminals, and 

insurgents.84 The ambitious command philosophy of CJTFHOA, the American military organization now responsible for 

Somalia, is particularly instructive. It seeks to set the conditions for economic growth, spur education and prosperity, and 

provide a stable, secure environment for all the nations in its 

region.85 Thus, the interventionism currently inherent in US 

foreign policy highlights both a propensity towards future complex contingency operations and the need to correctly interpret 

and incorporate the many lessons of Somalia.

Prevention

The first lesson is often cited but seldom heeded. The massive cost of Operation Restore Hope, about $1.97 billion, was 

six times greater than the total development assistance dedicated to Somalia for the previous three decades; an ounce of 

prevention is literally worth a pound of cure. Democracies are 

driven largely by short-term political expediencies, and thus 

they are prone to “magnify the benefits of avoiding immediate 

expenditures and discount the disadvantages of incurring future ones.”86 As previously mentioned, there were at least three 

clear opportunities prior to the formation of UNOSOM I where 

US leadership and UN involvement might have mitigated the 

Somali crisis.
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AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

Although initial efforts will normally employ instruments of 

national power other than the military, regional combatant 

commanders’ resources and manpower may give them an advantage in identifying potential crises early. Commanders 

should be motivated by self-interest to drive the interagency 

process towards engagement short of intervention. In addition, 

the use of theater security cooperation plans to synchronize 

and integrate peacetime military activities on a regional basis 

should make regional combatant commands much more vocal 

advocates of prevention strategies.87

Timing

If prevention should fail and military intervention is contemplated, timing becomes a critical issue in the planning, execution, and exit strategy of any operation. In humanitarian crises, 

especially those akin to Somalia where the aim is to halt mass 

killing, earlier action is always better. In that context, intervention should be viewed as a process—the airlift of Operation 

Provide Relief began saving lives in August 1993, four full 

months before political considerations permitted UNITAF to 

land in Mogadishu.

Another important aspect of timing is the danger of time limits. In general, publicized limits indicate that important criteria, 

like national interest, moral imperative, and public support, 

have not been met.88 Although President Bush’s announcement that UNITAF would depart Somalia by the end of his term 

in office played well to Congress, the military, and the American public, it had dire consequences for the mission as a whole. 

Mohamed Aideed pacified his militia and welcomed US troops, 

whom he knew would soon leave, while simultaneously vilifying the United Nations in preparation for his coming confrontation with UNOSOM II.89

In addition, reconciliation amongst Somalis was impossible. 

Those elements of society amenable to negotiation, those who did 

not derive power from the barrel of a gun, were unable to reappear 

and coalesce in such a short time frame. Somalia’s slide into 

anarchy took many years, and any meaningful attempt at state 

restoration would take a comparable amount of time.90
AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

38

Relationships with the United Nations

After the Battle of Mogadishu, the Clinton administration 

worked overtime to apportion blame to the United Nations. Despite this, the organization remains an indispensable partner; 

America needs the United Nations as its proxy, its collaborator, 

and its mantle of legitimacy.91 As the handoff from UNITAF to 

UNOSOM II illustrated, however, the United Nations is an inherently weak organization, both by design and by virtue of the 

budgetary and political constraints imposed by member states.92

It was not designed to take over a task as daunting as Somalia. 

Therefore, it is not clear that perfect policy making and maximum efficiency, which were certainly not the case for UNOSOM 

II, would have enabled successful reconciliation.93

Of course, this was not recognized at the time. Although the 

sharply limited mandate of UNITAF contributed markedly to 

the failure of UNOSOM II, the Clinton administration was frenetic in its attempts to prove the United Nations capable.94 Instead, the lesson of Somalia is one of responsibility. In any UN 

operation involving the United States, American forces should 

not only expect to shoulder a majority of the burden, they 

should willingly take on the leadership responsibility if they 

expect to succeed.95

Operational Lessons

The stark contrast between the success of UNITAF and the 

apparent failure of UNOSOM II highlights both a dilemma at 

the heart of complex contingency operations and a critical lesson that straddles the line between strategic and operational 

contexts. The dilemma involves an alleged distinction between 

purely humanitarian intervention, symbolized by the efficient 

triumph of UNITAF, and nation building, symbolized by the disaster of UNOSOM II. Is it possible to separate the two? In Somalia’s particular context, experience suggests that any attempt 

to do so—to apply a humanitarian Band–Aid without addressing the underlying political issues—is doomed to failure.96
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Political Reconstruction

The root causes of the mass killing, the civil war, and even 

the famine that gripped Somalia were political in nature. US 

leaders were loath to acknowledge this because it implied a 

more difficult and risky mission of uncertain length. Instead, 

UNITAF provided a semblance of order for a short time, and 

then it ducked the difficult political questions that flowed from 

the decision to intervene and quickly left. Furthermore, the notion that any similar operation could remain above significant 

political interference is flawed—landing 37,000 foreign troops 

in a failed state inherently and drastically impacts that domestic political scene, especially when those troops begin to create 

order and stability where none existed before.97

Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense James Woods, the 

chairman of the Somalia Task Force in the OSD during the operation, has concluded that there were three main flaws in US 

policy with respect to the operation as a whole. First, US forces 

deployed only to restore security, not to decide a political outcome; second, the United States would not disarm warlords 

and gangs; and last, the United Nations was left to attempt to 

revitalize the minimal elements of a functioning Somali society 

and government, a task that it was incapable of accomplishing.98 Complex contingency operations, especially those labeled 

peace-enforcement operations under UN chapter 7, are usually 

“political operations carried out by military means.” Therefore, 

humanitarian relief, rebuilding infrastructure, implementing 

political functions, restoring government institutions, demobilization, and reintegrating militias and armies are central to 

the success of these missions.99 In fact, joint doctrine now emphasizes the importance of a political-military plan that addresses these exact issues. As current operations in Iraq and 

Afghanistan suggest, eliminating terrorist havens dictates that 

successful intervention end states focus on political stability 

and restored security.100

Disarmament

The functional task of demobilization and disarmament offers a clear lesson on the necessity for conflict resolution in 

planning for end states. It also highlights the largest chasm 
AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

40

that erupted between UNITAF and UNOSOM II in Somalia operations. All Somali factions had agreed to disarm in the March 

1993 Addis Ababa accords; in fact, many Somalis that expected 

disarmament were surprised by UNITAF’s lack of action.101 The 

warlords quickly realized that the United States was not serious about challenging their power, and there would be essentially no changes to the military situation on the ground. This 

meant two things: that the warlords could wait out UNITAF 

and then challenge UN troops who they knew to be much less 

formidable, and that the security situation in Somalia would 

remain chaotic. In simplified form, security is the first step in 

reconciliation, which leads to conflict resolution, which is a 

vital part of creating a stable end state.102

The question of disarmament also reveals a fundamental divide between academics, who stress disarmament’s necessity, 

and warriors, who stress its inherent complications. Most 

scholars argue correctly that with the proper mandate and its 

initial momentum, UNITAF could have removed most of the 

heavy weapons from factional militias with minimal conflict.103

But this line of reasoning ignores two major complications. 

First, the building of political and civic institutions must proceed 

concurrently in order to replace the security that arms provide.104 Second, “if the disarmament of the population becomes 

an objective, then there should be no mistaking the fact that the 

troops given this mission have been committed to combat.”105

Disarmament, then, is not incompatible with complex contingency operations; it simply necessitates the organization, training, and equipment that combat operations require. Unfortunately, UNOSOM II came up short of that standard, resembling 

a peacekeeping force far more than it did a combat force.

Legitimacy and Impartiality

Another issue that arises in a failed state like Somalia is the 

question of legitimacy. Since legally sanctioned authorities and 

state structures are nonexistent, should the United States deal 

with, and thereby confer legitimacy upon, whoever has more 

men, more guns, and a better media apparatus? Those actions 

in Somalia led UNITAF into one-sided relationships with warlords who not only lacked any political authority bestowed by 
41

AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

the Somali people, but whose crimes against those same people 

were well known.106 The various warlords thrived financially in 

the absence of a government, so they had no desire to see one 

built; instead, they attempted to manipulate unwitting intervention forces, often successfully, into boosting their own power 

bases and neutralizing their enemies.107

Viable reconciliation in Somalia necessitated a drastic change 

in the balance of power away from those who advocated and 

sustained violence, mainly the warlords and their supporters, 

and towards those who sought peace. Such an effort would 

have required both time and a willingness to take sides, because making peace means deciding who rules. Although politicians often favor an impartial middle course like that chosen 

in Somalia, it is usually counterproductive. The deployment of 

an overwhelming, combat-ready force should enable an intervening coalition to install a leader of its choosing until national 

self-determination is viable. The necessity of developing such a 

long-term political plan prior to the commencement of operations, along with the means to enforce it, is one of UNITAF’s 

most enduring lessons.108

Unified Effort

The US joint after-action report on Operation Restore Hope 

notes that, “with the benefit of hindsight, it is possible to see 

that operations in Somalia were successful when they recognized the trinity of diplomatic, military, and humanitarian actions—and remarkably less so when they did not.”109 For instance, civil affairs units were sorely lacking in UNITAF, 

although planning dictated 300 civil affairs personnel, the JCS 

opposed activating reservists for an anticipated six-week operation, and so only 36 personnel were deployed. In addition, development aid and expertise for anything other than feeding 

Somalis was insufficient throughout the operation. In an effort 

to disassociate itself from nation building, UNITAF often avoided 

or excluded government agencies and NGOs with the practical 

political or economic competencies that a failed state like Somalia required.110 The daunting quest for a stable and legitimate end state, however, must necessarily harness the expertise and resources of every organization willing to contribute.
AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

42

The most critical organizations in Somalia were humanitarian 

NGOs. After all, their success in feeding starving Somalis was 

UNITAF’s raison d’etre. Col Kevin Kennedy, the commander of 

the Civil Military Operations Center (CMOC) during UNITAF, 

notes several lessons from the military/humanitarian NGO relationship. First, there was “no contact at the operational level” 

between CENTCOM planners and humanitarian NGOs during 

the planning phase of the operation.111 In addition, different 

interpretations of the UNITAF mission led to different levels of 

military support for NGOs and the frustration that comes with 

unfulfilled expectations. Finally, the security environment that 

UNITAF established did not include police functions by design, 

and NGOs frequently saw this as a failure to support humanitarian operations.112

Joint doctrine now dictates the development of campaign 

plans to leverage the core competencies of all government agencies and NGOs toward a common set of objectives.113 Although 

priorities, command arrangements, and operating principles will 

certainly vary amongst both international and domestic military and nonmilitary participants, US joint force commanders 

should view themselves as coordinators and consensus builders. The US military is likely to play a supporting, rather than 

supported, role in complex contingency operations, and only a 

top-down emphasis on unified effort from the beginning stages 

of planning will leverage the strengths of all participants.114

Airpower

Another important operational lesson from Somalia is the 

critical, and sometimes controversial, role of airpower. Airlift 

was essential to the overall effort in deploying and sustaining 

the initial ground forces. During the first six weeks of the mission, AMC aircraft delivered 24,500 tons of cargo and approximately 24,000 passengers to Somalia. Perhaps even more important to future humanitarian operations, however, airlift 

provided the capability in the previous months during Operation Provide Hope to insert humanitarian aid quickly with few 

political repercussions.115

Other airpower missions, however, are more significant for 

their controversial effects in the Somali context, and they high-
43

AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

light issues that may not be immediately apparent to military 

professionals. Helicopters of all types, from the tiny AH-6 Little 

Birds to the ubiquitous MH–60s, provided critical insertion and 

reconnaissance capabilities throughout Mogadishu. Nevertheless, critics charge that the virtually constant presence of loud, 

low-flying US aircraft eventually aroused tremendous anger on 

behalf of the entire population, even those who initially welcomed foreign intervention. When this constant air presence 

was combined with a series of air strikes in June 1993, the result contributed substantially to the steady erosion of popular 

support for the United Nations.116

In addition, the same force issues that plagued the operation as a whole also trickled down into airpower employment. 

Strike aircraft were used as both a coercive and a blunt-force 

instrument against the warlords and their forces with mixed 

results. At the beginning of UNOSOM II, the mere presence 

of AC-130 gunships and AH-1 Cobra helicopters provided 

some deterrence to coerce the various clans to allow humanitarian assistance operations to proceed. In June 1993, AC-130s 

attacked several complexes belonging to Aideed and the SNA 

in an effort to force cooperation, and the results were generally successful.117

The infamous SNA command center attack of 12 July, however, crossed a line that was imperceptible to UNOSOM II but 

quite obvious to the citizens of Mogadishu. For Somalis, it signaled a departure from coercion to blunt-force attack, and it 

represented a declaration of war. Not only was most of Mogadishu turned against UNOSOM II, but the UN attempted to conduct the war without the necessary forces, equipment, or political resolve.118

African Intervention

A summary of Somalia’s strategic and operational lessons 

highlights the notion that complex contingency operations 

should always begin with the promulgation of a desired end 

state. If that end state represents long-term stability, then the 

mission necessitates not only a comprehensive intervention 

focused on disarmament, reconciliation, and political restructuring, it also implies conflict and combat. Regardless of at-
AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

44

tempts to circumvent the oft-maligned task of nation building, it consistently reappears as the only long-term solution. 

Of course, this is precisely the task with which US forces in 

Iraq and Afghanistan are currently engaged.119 Is this a model 

for the future?

The American experience in Somalia continues to affect US 

policy towards Africa today. For critics of peace operations, interventions, and the United Nations, the Battle of Mogadishu is 

a potent symbol of the difficulties and dangers inherent in African intervention. Simultaneously, current US policy is quick to 

recognize that the strategic situation in much of Africa poses a 

threat to a core value of the United States, preserving human 

dignity, and to a strategic priority, combating global terrorism. 

Since 1991 US forces have conducted 31 contingency operations in sub-Saharan Africa. In addition, America will import 

25 percent of its oil from West Africa by 2015, surpassing the 

volume currently shipped from the Persian Gulf.120 Thus, Africa remains locked in a peculiar paradox. It is likely to become 

the next focus in the global war on terrorism, but it is the continent where the United States is least engaged. Its need for 

complex contingency operations is greatest, but its hold on politicians and the American people is the least.

Accordingly, US contributions to future operations in Africa 

will probably be short on troops and long on overhead. Complex contingency operations dedicated to long-term success 

will require large contributions of regional manpower to complement American support, firepower, and intelligence capabilities. Although many African militaries are rich in peacekeeping experience and leadership talent, US planners must 

realize that few of them possess specialized units in addition to 

their basic needs, and many lack necessary skills and equipment. With the exception of South Africa, and to a lesser extent 

Ghana and Nigeria, none are capable of regional force projection or sustained, intense combat operations.121 In particular, 

“militaries in sub-Saharan Africa are weak at maintenance of 

complex equipment, strategic mobility, advanced command, 

control, and intelligence, airpower, and naval power.”122 Fortunately, these are precisely the areas where the US military excels.

The African Standby Force (ASF) represents a unique opportunity for the United States to combine these capabilities with 
45

AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

African manpower to provide an intervention force that addresses many of the shortfalls of Operation Restore Hope. In 

July 2004, the African heads of state, under the aegis of the 

African Union (AU), approved the policy framework of the ASF. 

The concept envisions five regional standby brigades (3,000 to 

4,000 troops), which will provide the AU with a combined 

standby capacity of 15,000 to 20,000 troops. The core of each 

brigade will reside in one of the five African regions and, in 

theory, be able to quickly organize, deploy, and intervene to 

stem early violence before it erupts into full-scale war.123 The 

plan calls for each brigade to field four light infantry battalions 

with the requisite engineering, signals, reconnaissance, military police, logistics, and medical support units, as well as four 

helicopters and a variety of light to medium vehicles.124

The AU has designed its concept around six missions: military advisor missions, regional observer missions codeployed 

with the United Nations, stand-alone observer missions, chapter 6 regional peacekeeping missions, complex contingency peace 

operations, and genocide intervention missions. The military 

components of each mission are designed to deploy within 30 

days of receiving an AU mandate, with the exception of genocide 

missions that deploy within 14 days. A unified effort is envisioned from the beginning of each operation, and the ASF also 

includes 240 civilian police and a roster of civilian experts to 

address human rights, humanitarian, governance, demobilization, disarmament, repatriation, and reconstruction issues.125

June 2005 was the target date for operational status on the 

first four missions above, and June 2010 is the target for the 

last two. Although substantive progress has occurred, the AU 

is struggling to overcome funding issues for a program that is 

extraordinarily ambitious by African standards. At the Group 

of Eight (G8) summit of 2003, leaders of the developed nations 

expressed strong support of the AU concept, but they failed to 

award specific funding based on concerns about the scope and 

cost of the framework, instead endorsing a scaled-down version of the original plan.126 In 2004 the G8 pledged to train 

50,000 African peacekeepers over the next five to six years, but 

details of this commitment are sketchy.127
AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

46

US Involvement

The ASF represents a unique opportunity to facilitate African 

solutions to African problems at minimal expense. Although 

the AU is exploring a range of African funding initiatives, international donations of money, equipment, and expertise could 

easily pay for themselves many times over in years to come. 

The estimated 2004 three-year start-up costs for the ASF were 

approximately $17 million.128 By way of comparison, this is the 

same amount that Operation Iraqi Freedom consumes every 

three hours based on 2004 US government figures.129

As part of the 2005 Global Peace Operations Initiative (GPOI), 

US European Command (EUCOM) is working with lead nations 

and regional organizations, particularly the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), to support, equip, and 

train African forces. EUCOM also plans to expand exercise activity, under the aegis of the Africa Contingency Operations 

Training and Assistance Program, aimed at enhancing African 

capacity to conduct peace-support operations.130 With more 

emphasis, funding, and vision, these efforts could be an excellent link between the US military and a future ASF.

Unfortunately, from its name to its headquarters and operating bases, EUCOM is clearly focused on Europe. In recognition 

of the escalating strategic value of African engagement, the 

United States should make a bold move—replacing the current 

tripartite regional combatant command structure for the continent with US Africa Command (US AFRICOM). AFRICOM could 

dramatically increase American engagement “in the region—

analyzing intelligence, working closely with civil-military leaders, coordinating training, conducting exercises, and constantly 

planning for various contingencies.”131 The AU has already 

identified strategic airlift, early warning, limited technical and 

logistical capacities, and command and control as ASF capability 

shortfalls that require international assistance.132 AFRICOM 

could address these with robust training and exercises, interoperability measures, and personnel exchange programs.*

*On 6 February 2007, Pres. G. W. Bush directed that Africa Command be established. The command began initial operations in October 2007, and at the time of 

publication was situated at Kelley Barracks, Stuttgart, Germany.
47

AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

Perhaps a future African genocide or humanitarian crisis 

might be addressed with an African solution. Under a mandate 

from the AU, the ASF would deploy a regional standby brigade 

using US strategic airlift. AFRICOM would assist with logistics, 

communications, and command and control. RQ-1 Predators 

would provide intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance, 

while EC-130 Commando Solos implemented an ASF-designed 

psychological operations campaign. If necessary, AC-130s or 

similar strike platforms could carry out coercive or ground support missions directed by a trained ASF control party. By relying heavily on airpower and leveraging its military strengths, 

the United States could limit its personnel in the country of 

interest to the absolute minimum.

Facilitating such an African intervention capability addresses 

many of the lessons of Somalia. Strategically, a combination of 

multilateral African manpower and US assistance would likely 

engender UN support while simultaneously ensuring American 

leadership and avoiding reliance on UN capabilities. From a 

domestic political perspective, such an option would present 

little risk of US casualties, it could be implemented quickly, 

and it could proceed almost without time limits. Well-trained 

ASF troops, backed by US airpower, would have the moxie necessary to disarm adversaries.

Also, regional African forces, in addition to bearing a mantle 

of legitimacy, would possess the cultural, linguistic, and religious knowledge to successfully navigate complex operations. 

Most importantly, however, the next-door neighbor aspect of 

the ASF would compel it to address the political issues behind 

the crisis within the framework of a unified effort in order to 

forge a long-term, comprehensive solution. After all, Somalia 

remains a source of regional instability, destitute refugees, piracy, and organized crime almost 15 years after the international intervention, and no one knows that better than Somalia’s neighbors.

Notes

1. Makinda, Seeking Peace from Chaos, 11–19.

2. The White House, National Security Strategy of the United States, 2002, 4.

3. Valentino, Final Solutions, 9.
AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

48

4. Makinda, Seeking Peace from Chaos, 18.

5. Valentino, Final Solutions, 10.

6. Makinda, Seeking Peace from Chaos, 20.

7. Samatar, “Chapter 1: The Historical Setting: Somalia’s Difficult Decade, 

1980–1990, Persecution of the Majerteen.”

8. Lewis, Modern History of Somalia, 156.

9. Samatar, “Chapter 1: The Historical Setting: Somalia’s Difficult Decade, 

1980–1990, Oppression of the Isaaq.”

10. Ofcansky, “Chapter 5: National Security: Human Rights.”

11. Samatar, “Chapter 1: The Historical Setting: Somalia’s Difficult Decade, 1980–1990, Harrying the Hawiye.”

12. Makinda, Seeking Peace from Chaos, 25–27.

13. “Somalia beyond the Warlords.”

14. Press Release, Somali Community of the Americas.

15. “Somalia beyond the Warlords.”

16. Makinda, Seeking Peace from Chaos, 43.

17. Ibid., 42.

18. “Somalia beyond the Warlords.”

19. Salih and Wohlgemuth, Crisis Management, 12–16.

20. Clarke, “Failed Visions,” 4–6.

21. Cassanelli, “Somali Land Resource Issues,” 67–69.

22. Clarke, “Failed Visions,” 6.

23. Sahnoun, Somalia, 5.

24. Clarke, “Failed Visions,” 7.

25. Sahnoun, Somalia, 5–6.

26. Ibid., 81.

27. Ibid., 8.

28. Ibid., 7–8.

29. “Somalia beyond the Warlords.”

30. Sahnoun, Somalia, 8.

31. Ibid., 9–10.

32. Rotberg, “The Lessons of Somalia,” 235.

33. Woods, “U.S. Government Decisionmaking Processes,” 151–53.

34. UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, “IRIN [Integrated Regional Information Networks] Webspecial.”

35. Clarke, “Failed Visions,” 6.

36. Drysdale, “Foreign Military Intervention,” 118–21.

37. Ibid., 122–24.

38. Brune, The United States and Post–Cold War Interventions, 17–18.

39. Ibid.

40. Sahnoun, Somalia, 39.

41. Hippel, Democracy by Force, 62.

42. Brune, The United States and Post–Cold War Interventions, 18–19.

43. Drysdale, “Foreign Military Intervention,” 126–27.

44. Hippel, Democracy by Force, 169.

45. Menkhaus and Ortmayer, Key Decisions, 2.

46. Woods, “U.S. Government Decisionmaking Processes,” 155.
49

AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

47. Menkhaus and Ortmayer, Key Decisions, 3–4.

48. Woods, “U.S. Government Decisionmaking Processes,” 155–56.

49. “Military: Operation Provide Relief,” GlobalSecurity.org.

50. Hutcheson, Air Mobility, 90.

51. Menkhaus and Ortmayer, Key Decisions, 4.

52. Hutcheson, Air Mobility, 90.

53. Menkhaus and Ortmayer, Key Decisions, 4.

54. Hutcheson, Air Mobility, 90.

55. Woods, “U.S. Government Decisionmaking Processes,” 156–57.

56. Menkhaus and Ortmayer, Key Decisions, 6.

57. Sommer, Hope Restored? 30.

58. Menkhaus and Ortmayer, Key Decisions, 6–7.

59. Ibid., 8.

60. Makinda, Seeking Peace from Chaos, 70–71.

61. Menkhaus and Ortmayer, Key Decisions, 11–12.

62. Clarke, “Failed Visions,” 9.

63. Brune, The United States and Post–Cold War Interventions, 23–24.

64. Sommer, Hope Restored? 37–38.

65. Woods, “U.S. Government Decisionmaking Processes,” 160.

66. Brune, The United States and Post–Cold War Interventions, 21–22.

67. Menkhaus and Ortmayer, Key Decisions, 12.

68. Drysdale, “Foreign Military Intervention,”127–28.

69. Woods, “U.S. Government Decisionmaking Processes,” 159.

70. Makinda, Seeking Peace from Chaos, 74–75.

71. Sommer, Hope Restored? 39.

72. Drysdale, “Foreign Military Intervention,”131.

73. Ibid., 132.

74. Woods, “U.S. Government Decisionmaking Processes,” 164–65.

75. Sommer, Hope Restored? 41.

76. Woods, “U.S. Government Decisionmaking Processes,” 164.

77. Menkhaus and Ortmayer, Key Decisions, 16–17.

78. Woods, “U.S. Government Decisionmaking Processes,” 163.

79. Ibid., 165.

80. Howe, “Relations between the United States and the UN in Somalia,” 183.

81. Tomlinson, “US General Calls Somalia Terror Haven.”

82. Clarke and Herbst, “Somalia and the Future of Humanitarian Intervention,” 239.

83. Joint Publication (JP) 3-07.6, Joint Tactics, Techniques, and Procedures for Foreign Humanitarian Assistance, I-7–I-8.

84. US Department of Defense, National Defense Strategy of the United 

States of America, 3.

85. Ghormley, “Command Philosophy.”

86. Weiss, “Rekindling Hope,” 216–17.

87. A Theater Security Cooperation Plan is a strategic planning document 

intended to link a combatant commander’s regional engagement activities 

with national strategic objectives. For more information, see JP 3-0, Doctrine 

for Joint Operations: Revision Final Coordination, I-7 and I-5–I-6.
AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

50

88. Brune, The United States and Post–Cold War Interventions, 34.

89. Menkhaus and Ortmayer, Key Decisions, 12.

90. Clarke and Herbst, “Somalia and the Future of Humanitarian Intervention,” 247.

91. Rotberg, “The Lessons of Somalia,” 233.

92. Hirsch and Oakley, Somalia and Operation Restore Hope, 164.

93. Clarke and Herbst, “Somalia and the Future of Humanitarian Intervention,” 250.

94. Woods, “U.S. Government Decisionmaking Processes,” 169.

95. Howe, “Relations between the United States and the UN in Somalia,” 186.

96. Crocker, “The Lessons of Somalia,” 8.

97. Clarke and Herbst, “Somalia and the Future of Humanitarian Intervention,” 242–43.

98. Woods, “U.S. Government Decisionmaking Processes,” 169.

99. Hirsch and Oakley, Somalia and Operation Restore Hope, 166–67.

100. JP 3-07.6, Joint Doctrine for Military Operations Other Than War, I-8.

101. Clarke and Herbst, “Somalia and the Future of Humanitarian Intervention,” 243.

102. Rotberg, “The Lessons of Somalia,” 235.

103. Hirsch and Oakley, Somalia and Operation Restore Hope, 154.

104. Hippel, Democracy by Force, 83.

105. Allard, Somalia Operations, 90.

106. Clarke, “Failed Visions,” 10–11.

107. Clarke and Herbst, “Somalia and the Future of Humanitarian Intervention,” 246–47.

108. Betts, “Delusion of Impartial Intervention.”

109. Allard, Somalia Operations, 9.

110. Clarke and Herbst, “Somalia and the Future of Humanitarian Intervention,” 244–45.

111. Kennedy, “The Military and Humanitarian Organizations,” 100.

112. Ibid., 114–15.

113. JP 3-57, Joint Doctrine for Civil-Military Operations, IV-2.

114. JP 3-07, Joint Doctrine for Military Operations Other Than War, II-3.

115. Hicks, “Fire in the City,” 81–82.

116. Purvis, “One Lesson Worth Remembering,” 45.

117. Hicks, “Fire in the City,” 78–79.

118. Ibid., 80.

119. Carr, “The Consequences of Somalia,” 3–4.

120. Denning, “Creating an Effective African Standby Force.”

121. Berman and Sams, Peacekeeping in Africa, 260–63.

122. Henk and Metz, United States and the Transformation of African Security, 9.

123. Denning, “Creating an Effective African Standby Force.”

124. Cilliers and Malan, “Progress with the African Standby Force.”

125. Ibid.

126. Kent and Malan, “The African Standby Force: Progress and Prospects,” 78.
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AMERICAN INTERVENTION IN AFRICA

127. de Coning, “Refining the African Standby Force Concept,” 24.

128. “Cost and Steps for Establishing and Operationalising the African 

Standby Force,” Institute for Security Studies.

129. “Fact Sheet: Iraqi War” InfoPlease Almanacs.

130. “Operations and Initiatives,” US European Command.

131. Carafano and Gardiner, “U.S. Military Assistance for Africa.”

132. Denning, “Creating an Effective African Standby Force.”

53

Case Study 2

Genocide, Airpower, and Intervention

Rwanda 1994

Maj George Stanley, USAF

In response to a question about believing in God, Lt Gen Roméo 

Dallaire, commander of the United Nations peacekeeping force 

in Rwanda, known as the UN Assistance Mission in Rwanda 

(UNAMIR), stated that he had shaken hands with the devil in 

Rwanda, and since he knew the devil existed, he had to believe 

in God.1 While most Americans simply changed the channel 

during news broadcasts of the savage violence that decimated 

Rwanda, the 2,548 members of UNAMIR and the estimated 

800,000 people that were murdered during 100 days of organized killing could not. In the aftermath of this tragedy, four 

questions emerged.

• Why was genocide pursued as a final solution? 

• How did the relatively small group most committed to implementing genocide gain cooperation from the populace 

at large? 

• Why did the United States and United Nations not intervene? 

• Could the United States have intervened effectively?

These questions frame the following analysis of the Rwandan 

genocide of 1994. Most of the debate about Rwanda has focused on the lack of political will to stop the genocide. Only a 

handful of studies analyze the military capability of the international community to intervene in Rwanda effectively. Specifically, how might US airpower have played critical roles in 

transporting intervention forces, providing strike and reconnaissance capabilities, and shutting down perpetrator communications and radio?
GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

54

Why Genocide?

In order to understand genocide in Rwanda, one should examine Rwanda’s colonial history and how the ethnic conflict 

between the Hutus and Tutsis developed. The first European 

explorers contacted Rwandan society in the late nineteenth 

century and found a homogeneous society divided into three 

main groups: Hutu, Tutsi, and Twa. These groups shared the 

same Bantu language, intermarried, and fought side-by-side to 

defend or extend the Rwanda kingdom. Rwanda had its share 

of wars and violence, but “there is no trace in [Rwanda’s] precolonial history of systematic violence between Tutsi and Hutu 

as such.”2

However, each group acquired a separate stereotype in appearance and social status. The Twa were approximately 1 percent of the population, and were pygmoid hunter-gatherers 

whose only social opportunity was in serving the king of Rwanda 

or other patrons.3 The Hutu comprised approximately 85 percent of the population, and were peasant farmers with the 

standard Bantu physical features attributed to residents of 

central and southern Africa.4 Early European explorers described the Hutu as short, stocky, and round-faced with flat 

noses and thick lips.5 By contrast, the Tutsi were described as 

typically extremely tall and thin with angular facial features 

more akin to the Europeans. They were associated with herding cattle.6 Fixation on these differences would become the basis for ethnic conflict between the Hutus and the Tutsis.

In reality it is very difficult to distinguish between a Hutu 

and a Tutsi based on physical attributes. Some studies argue 

that the word Tutsi at first referred to the ruling elite, while the 

word Hutu at first referred to contempt for inferiors, regardless 

of race.7 The difference was really more of a social separation—

farmers and cattle herders. In early Rwandan society, a Hutu 

could actually become somewhat “Tutsified” by receiving cattle 

as a gift from his patron while a Tutsi who lost all of his cattle 

and had to farm the land could become “Hutuised.”8 While this 

was not a common occurrence since much depended on the 

generosity of the Tutsi patron and Hutu were not supposed to 

own cattle, movement in either direction could occur by marriage. A successful Hutu might marry into a Tutsi lineage or a 
55

GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

struggling Tutsi marry into a Hutu lineage.9 The distinction 

between Hutu and Tutsi was made more sharp and hostile with 

the colonial influence of Europe.

Both the German and Belgian colonizers focused almost exclusively on the physical differences between the Hutu and 

Tutsi, assuming that the Tutsi were superior and naturally inclined to lead in the same way that Europeans were presumed 

to be superior to Africans.10 This led to the conclusions that the 

Tutsis were natural-born leaders with gifted intelligence when 

compared to the Hutus.11 Some went so far as to claim the Tutsis had Semitic origins, were descendants from the Garden of 

Eden, the lost continent of Atlantis, or even visitors from outer 

space.12 These European theories and assumptions eventually 

led the Tutsi to believe they really were a superior race and the 

Hutu to develop a severe inferiority complex.13 This condition 

was made significantly worse by changes in the way Rwanda 

was governed.

Traditional Rwandan government consisted of a king with 

numerous chiefs that fell into three different categories: chiefs 

of the landholdings, chiefs of men, or chiefs of the pastures. 

While most of these chiefs were Tutsi, many of the chiefs of the 

landholdings were Hutu since that area included agricultural 

production, and other chief positions were usually assigned to 

different men in an attempt to complicate the balance of power 

and provide checks and balances while subduing a difficult area 

or hill. Additionally, this afforded the Hutus with some ability 

to influence local politics even if most of the chiefs were Tutsi.14

German and Belgian colonialists found it difficult to exert 

their control within this complex system and worked to drastically change the administration, to improve efficiency, and to 

shift completely the balance of power.15 The German and Belgian influences on Rwandan society were very different. Germany ruled Rwanda indirectly from 1897 to 1916, leaving a 

large degree of leeway to the leadership of the Rwandan monarchy.16 While they did not make deep changes in Rwandan 

society, the Germans began the process of shifting power towards the Tutsi chiefs.17 Ten years after taking control in 1916 

and attempting futilely to put Hutus into chiefly positions, Belgian authorities began a series of reform measures that eventually fused all three chiefly offices into one and replaced al-
GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

56

most all Hutu chiefs with Tutsi chiefs.18 Rwandan society, once 

characterized by overlapping and intersecting spheres of authority based on family compounds associated with a high 

ground or hill (Rwandans describe their country as the “land of 

the 1,000 hills”), became increasingly defined in terms of Hutu 

and Tutsi identity. By systematically dismantling the traditional and complex “hill” hierarchy structure, the Belgians gave 

Tutsi leaders absolute power over Hutu vassals.19 Belgian authorities also instituted ethnic identification cards that specified whether a citizen was a Hutu, Tutsi, or Twa.20 In this way, 

Hutu peasants found themselves at the mercy of one chief, 

usually a Tutsi, backed by a brutal white administration.

The process of extracting taxes and forced labor from citizens 

for public works changed drastically as well. Under traditional 

Rwandan rule, when a royal chief required labor from a certain 

hill, the hill would choose a worker or workers to fulfill the obligation.21 The Belgians extended that obligation, requiring that 

every man, and sometimes women and children, work. By 1940 

the burden had increased to the point where men were so exhausted from constant communal labor that they were unable 

to tend to their own fields, resulting in numerous episodes of 

famine.22 Anyone who did not cooperate was brutally beaten. A 

UN Trusteeship Mandate Delegation to Rwanda interrogated 

250 peasants in 1948 and found that 247 of them had been 

beaten, usually more than once.23 Colonial authorities felt no 

compunction about publicly whipping local Tutsi chiefs when 

work quotas were missed, with the chiefs then taking out their 

anger on their Hutu subordinates.24 One elderly Tutsi remembered a Belgian colonial order to, “whip the Hutu or we will 

whip you.”25

Some higher-level Tutsi, knowing they had the backing of 

the Belgian government, began to change the traditional land 

and contractual relationships between patron and peasant.26

Belgian lawmakers introduced legislation that designated undivided usufruct land not actually occupied by the natives (the 

Hutu) as legally vacant, allowing the state and the Tutsi chiefs 

to gain control of traditional Hutu landholdings after very miserly “due compensation.”27 Although this abuse was limited to 

high-lineage Tutsi who were in position to work with and benefit 
57

GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

from the Belgian legislation, most Hutu peasants came to view 

all Tutsi as greedy oppressors.

Education was another area of conflict between the Hutu 

and the Tutsi. The Roman Catholic Church generally provided 

a quality education, but it was limited to those who could afford it and typically was reserved to Tutsi students, since they 

were assumed to be racially superior and naturally destined to 

lead their Hutu counterparts.28 This resulted in high illiteracy 

rates and frustration among the few Hutus that managed to 

become students, since they could not get jobs equivalent to 

their level of education.29 Although the Belgians possessed 

overall authority over Rwanda, a small group of Tutsi gained a 

monopoly on local administration, which they used to further 

their own interests.30

All of these actions were legitimized by the supposed racial 

superiority of the Tutsi. High-lineage Tutsi took advantage of 

their Belgian sponsorship to further their own interests, and 

even marginally influential Tutsi accepted the myth that they 

were inherently superior to the Hutu.31 The Hutu were left “deprived of all political power and materially exploited by both the 

whites and the Tutsi, told by everyone that they were inferiors 

who deserved their fate.” They began to believe it, beginning to 

hate all Tutsi regardless of political or economic status, simply 

because they were Tutsi. “The time-bomb had been set and it 

was now only a question of when it would go off.”32

In the 1950s the relationships between the Tutsi, the Belgians, the church, and the Hutu began to shift slightly. Under 

UN pressure to end colonial rule, Belgian administrators began 

to incorporate Hutus into responsible positions and admit more 

Hutu into secondary schools.33 The Tutsi elite began to imagine 

the end of colonial rule and independence and realized that 

their position in society could be jeopardized if they waited too 

long for Belgium to transfer power.34

The first liberalizing measures envisioned free elections for 

councils at every administrative level. In practice chiefs and 

subchiefs (generally Tutsis) nominated the candidates and 

thereby controlled the electoral process.35 These measures 

moved power from the Belgians to the elite Tutsis, and while 

these elite Tutsi were beginning to challenge Belgian authority, 

a Hutu middle class was emerging.
GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

58

The leadership of the Church supported Tutsi dominance 

until the late 1930s. After World War II, Belgian clergymen of 

lower middle and working class origins began to sympathize 

with the Hutu majority.36 Additionally, a growing Hutu counterelite received economic opportunity and leadership training 

from the 1956 creation of the TRAFIPRO (Travail, fidélité, 

progrès’ or work, fidelity, progress) coffee cooperative and began to organize and create security societies and cultural associations.37 In March 1957, Hutu intellectuals published the 

“Bahutu Manifesto” which embraced the myth of the Tutsi as 

foreign invaders and argued that Rwanda was a nation of the 

Hutu majority.38 Moreover, the manifesto supported identity 

cards that specified Tutsi, Hutu, or Twa ethnicity to clearly 

demonstrate that the Hutu were the majority in Rwanda.39

The Tutsi elite responded in a highly emotional defensive reaction and political rivalry and maneuvering quickly went beyond reason.40

Among the political parties that sprouted in the late 1950s 

were the Hutu Social Movement (Mouvement Social Muhutu or 

MSM), known later as the Democratic Republican Movement–

Party of the Movement for the Emancipation of the Hutu People 

(Mouvement Démocratique Républicain–Parti du Mouvement de 

l’Emancipation du Peuple Hutu or MDR-PARMEHUTU), and the 

Association for the Social Promotion of the Masses (Association 

Pour la Promotion Sociale de la Masse or APROSOMA) founded 

by Hutus. The Rwandese National Union (Union Nationale 

Rwandaise UNAR) consisting of Tutsi conservatives, was openly 

anti-Belgian, and supported immediate Rwandan independence. Cold War reasoning prompted communist members of 

the UN Trusteeship Council to support UNAR since they were 

against the Belgians and therefore the West in general. Hostility 

between the Tutsi elite and Belgian authorities deepened.41 Unfortunately the ensuing political maneuvering was never really 

about reconciling the ethnically bipolar state, and it was only a 

matter of time before violence erupted.42

In November 1959 a MDR-PARMEHUTU activist was severely 

beaten by young UNAR members, immediately prompting Hutu 

activists to attack Tutsi chiefs and UNAR members.43 Tutsi 

houses were burned regardless of whether or not they were 

elite Tutsi. UNAR members retaliated against Hutu activists.44
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GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

The violence, known as “the wind of destruction,” lasted for two 

weeks. Belgian authorities showed extreme favoritism toward 

the Hutu activists, standing by while they burned Tutsi homes.45

Before the elections in mid-1960, the violence continued, with 

the Tutsis receiving the worst of it. Belgian authorities began 

replacing Tutsi chiefs with Hutus, who immediately sought revenge on their Tutsi oppressors.46

Communal elections took place in mid-1960, with Hutus 

presiding over the polling stations, resulting in Hutu parties, 

especially MDR-PARMEHUTU and APROSOMA, winning over 

90 percent of the new government seats compared to less than 

2 percent for UNAR.47 The new burgomasters controlled 229 

communes, of which 160 were MDR-PARMEHUTU, and only 

19 were Tutsi. In the face of criticism from the United Nations 

and from the communist countries supporting UNAR, Belgian 

authorities arranged a declaration of independence for the Republic of Rwanda while anti-Tutsi violence continued. In the 

legislative elections of 1961 the MDR-PARMEHUTU won 78 

percent of the vote and 35 of 44 seats in the government.48 According to a UN report, “The developments of these last eighteen months have brought about the racial dictatorship of one 

party. . . . An oppressive system has been replaced by another 

one. . . . It is quite possible that some day we will witness violent reactions on the part of the Tutsi.”49

Rwanda’s democratic revolution emphasized “the intrinsic 

worth of being Hutu, the total congruence between demographic 

majority and democracy, the need to follow a moral Christian 

life, and the uselessness of politics which should be replaced 

by hard work.”50 This was essentially the ideology of the former 

Belgian/Tutsi rule of Rwanda turned on its head. Following 

Rwanda’s independence, Hutu leaders put the concept of an 

ethnically based quota system, enunciated in the 1957 Bahutu 

Manifesto, into practice. Tutsis, officially constituting 9 percent of the population of Rwanda, would henceforth be limited 

to 9 percent of the jobs in any one sector and only 9 percent of 

school enrollment.51

Anti-Tutsi violence in Rwanda continued sporadically from 

1959 until the genocide in 1994; and as a result, an estimated 

600,000 to 700,000 Tutsis fled from Rwanda to Burundi, 

Uganda, Tanzania, and the Democratic Republic of Congo (for-
GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

60

merly known as Zaire).52 As early as late 1960, small bands of 

exiled Tutsis began commando raids from Uganda, each time 

causing violent reprisals against Tutsi civilians still living in 

Rwanda.53 These groups were referred to as inyenzi, or cockroaches, by the Hutu, a reference that played a part in 1994.54

Success of the exiles depended largely on where they lived, with 

the most successful being in Burundi, where the new leaders 

sympathized with the Tutsi while Uganda and Tanzania tightly 

controlled the Tutsi, to prevent their military operations.55 The 

exiles were able to launch an offensive from Burundi in late 

1963 that nearly reached Kigali, the capital of Rwanda but was 

quickly beaten back and resulted in the deaths of around 

10,000 Tutsi, including all the Tutsi politicians still living in 

Rwanda.56 Hutu extremists would refer to the Tutsi refugees 

that escaped Rwanda as “the mistake of 1960,” since those 

refugees grew into the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), which 

will be described later.57

Exile politics in Rwanda died in 1964 and remained dead 

until 1979 when Tutsi refugees in Uganda formed the Rwandese Refugee Welfare Foundation, which evolved into the more 

militant Rwandese Alliance for National Unity (RANU).58 RANU 

was forced out of Uganda from 1981 until 1986 due to civil war 

within Uganda, but during that time many Tutsi soldiers fought 

with the National Resistance Army against the government of 

Uganda, gaining crucial combat and leadership experience.59

In fact, the rebel leader, Yoweri Museveni, had several thousand Rwandan Tutsis in his army in January 1986 when he 

defeated the brutal dictator Milton Obote and was sworn in as 

president of Uganda.60 After returning to Uganda in 1987, the 

RANU was renamed the RPF responding to increased repression of Rwandan refugees, mostly Tutsi, in Uganda. The RPF 

committed itself to returning the exiles to Rwanda.61

In October 1990, 2,500 RPF troops wearing Ugandan army 

uniforms invaded Rwanda.62 The attack stalled after only two 

days of fighting, and the Rwandan government forces, with 

help from French, Belgian, and Zairian forces, forced the entire 

RPF force to desert or retreat into Uganda by the end of October.63 While the operation nearly destroyed the RPF, it did strike 

fear into the Hutu elite of Rwanda and caused a massive 

recruitment of soldiers.64 While weapons were not a problem 
61

GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

since France provided them, discipline in the government forces 

eventually weakened by mid-1992. In the meantime, RPF forces 

rested, regrouped, and gained volunteers from all over the 

world, eventually growing to almost 12,000 troops by the end 

of 1992 and still growing.65

When the RPF attacked again from Uganda in February 1992, 

the undisciplined Rwandan government forces were forced to 

retreat, and the advance stopped 30 kilometers north of Kigali 

only when RPF leaders declared a unilateral cease-fire due to 

France’s declared support of Pres. Juvénal Habyarimana and 

his government in Kigali. Government forces were clearly unable to defend the capital against the RPF without French support. While thousands of Hutu peasants fled from the Tutsi 

army, extremist and moderate Hutu politicians alike feared a 

return to the Tutsi oppression of 40 years earlier. While differences between Hutu and Tutsi were artificial, they were very 

real and tangible by the early 1990s and would be translated 

into fear, hatred, and action.66

The second ingredient is the devaluation of human life, which 

coincides with the course of ethnic conflict between the Tutsis 

and Hutus since 1960. There had been a population explosion 

within Rwanda together with the constant cycle of attacks and 

reprisals between the two groups. The population of Rwanda 

increased from almost 1.6 million in 1934 to over 7.1 million in 

1989.67 This resulted in an increase from approximately 61 

people per square kilometer to 270 people per square kilometer, 

making Rwanda the most densely populated nation on the African continent.68 Although the decision to pursue genocide 

was primarily political, the already intense competition for land 

and resources increased exponentially when coffee and tin 

prices crashed in the mid-1980s.69

As previously noted, anti-Tutsi violence began with the political maneuverings of the late 1950s and continued in response to RPF attacks. Hutu peasants participated in all of the 

small-scale massacres of Tutsi civilians from 1990 through 

1994. However, there are several examples of anti-Hutu violence at the hands of Tutsis in the region as well. In 1972 the 

Tutsi ruling elite in Rwanda’s southern neighbor, Burundi, set 

out to kill every Hutu male over 14 years of age along with every 

Hutu cabinet member and government officer, resulting in the 
GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

62

massacre of an estimated 200,000 Hutus.70 Hutu massacres in 

Burundi at the hands of Tutsi killers were repeated in 1988 and 

1991, while RPF advances also included reprisals against suspected Hutu extremists.71 Additionally, under the Habyarimana 

regime, dissent and subversion were severely punished, and 

the few people who tried to expose government corruption during the economic crisis were killed, many by car accidents with 

strange circumstances.72 Murder and rape became common 

occurrences in Rwanda and neighboring countries as respect 

for human life decreased and hatred and mistrust intensified.

One of the last, and arguably one of most important, ingredients for genocide in Rwanda, was the rise of the intransigent 

Hutu power party named the Coalition Pour la Defense de la 

République (CDR). Members of the CDR allied with a powerful 

inner circle known as the Akazu (“small house,” originally a 

reference to the inner circle of the king’s court), consisting of 

the family and associates of President Habyarimana’s wife.73

The CDR and the Akazu worked publicly and behind the scenes 

to aggravate Hutu fear and distrust of the Tutsis, warning that 

an RPF victory would result in the resurrection of the preindependence Tutsi overlordship. When the RPF first attacked 

in 1990, the Hutu elite panicked and initiated massacres of 

Tutsis inside Rwanda as ibyitso (accomplices).74 The Tutsi 

threat appeared to manifest itself outside Rwanda as well, when 

Melchior Ndadaye, a Hutu engineer elected as president of 

Tutsi-dominated Burundi in a free and fair election, was kidnapped and murdered in October 1993, after only four months 

in office, by extremist Tutsi military officers.75 The ensuing violence in Burundi killed approximately 50,000 people, Hutu and 

Tutsi, and caused some 300,000 Hutu refugees to flee to 

Rwanda with stories of massacre committed by the Tutsi army 

of Burundi.76

The CDR and influential members of the Akazu became increasingly alarmed that a negotiated settlement between the 

government of Rwanda and the RPF would open the road for 

renewed Tutsi domination of Rwanda and imperil their position 

within Rwanda. They viewed the Arusha Accords, signed in October 1993, with fear and distrust. At Arusha, representatives 

of the RPF and Habyarimana’s government had agreed to a 

framework for ending the fighting between the RPF and the 
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GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

Forces of the Rwandese Army (Forces Armées Rwandaises or 

FAR), forming a provisional government, repatriating refugees, 

and holding free elections. Hutu radicals feared that Habyarimana’s stalling tactics could not long endure and believed that 

the president was about to succumb to international pressure 

to implement Arusha. They envisioned an alternate approach: 

the best way to deal with the Tutsi threat of the RPF, the problems of refugees, and international pressure, was to eliminate 

the Tutsis completely.77 Hutu extremists believed they could 

get away with genocide as long as they could generate general 

popular support for the genocide, maintain efficiency during 

the killing, prevent the United Nations from intervening, and 

resist the RPF militarily.78 On 6 April 1994, President Habyarimana’s plane was shot down as it approached the Kigali airport 

carrying both Habyarimana and the president of Burundi. 

Habyarimana was returning from a meeting in Dar es Salaam, 

where regional leaders had pressed him to move forward with 

implementing the Arusha Accords. Roadblocks immediately 

began to spring up in Kigali as Hutu opponents of the Arusha 

Accords began to implement their plan of committing genocide 

on a massive scale. Over the course of the next 100 days, some 

800,000 Tutsis would be methodically killed alongside thousands of Hutu moderates.79

Popular Cooperation

To understand the role of the general populace in the Rwandan genocide, the role of propaganda and its effectiveness in 

gaining cooperation, compliance, or at least noninterference of 

the populace needs to be explored. Shortly after the Arusha 

peace accords were signed, the Hutu extremist radio station, 

Thousand Hills Independent Radio and Television (Radio Télévision Libre Mille Collines or RTLMC), began broadcasting its 

hate propaganda that would lead to genocide.80 Other propaganda sources were available, like the paper Kangura (Wake 

Them Up), but more than 60 percent of Rwanda’s population 

was illiterate. The radio, which was easily the most powerful 

medium, could be received throughout most of Rwanda.81 In 

addition to preaching racism through street slang, obscene 

jokes, and good music, RTLMC openly criticized President 
GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

64

Habyarimana for being too soft in dealing with the RPF rebels 

while inciting memories of halcyon majority democracy and evil 

Tutsi feudalist enslavement.82 RTLMC reported the assassination of Burundi president Ndadaye with urgent calls for action. 

By April 1994, RTLMC had managed to convince Hutus that 

killing was communal work, with killing men equivalent to 

bush clearing and killing women and children equivalent to 

pulling out the roots of bad weeds.83 Later, reporting the shoot 

down of President Habyarimana’s aircraft as committed by RPF 

terrorists, the radio station urged murderous vengeance and 

took on a life of its own, becoming the voice of genocide.84

Cooperation included not only actual killing, but also manning roadblocks and informing on Tutsi hideouts. Many Hutu 

cooperated out of greed or because they believed the Tutsi 

threat to be real. Others cooperated because of Rwandan’s tradition of strict obedience to the government. Still others cooperated for fear of their own safety or in order to save their Tutsi 

wives.85 Whatever the reason, an estimated 50,000 Hutus, organized into militia groups such as the Interahamwe (those 

who stand together), participated in the slaughter. Stories told 

by the killers include tales of killing women, children, and 

neighbors with guns, grenades, and machetes, and yet the focus is on the fact that meat and food were readily available and 

killing was actually more productive than farming.86 It is important to note, also, that the estimated 800,000 dead does not 

include the victims who did not die from their wounds and the 

number of women and girls raped.87 However, there were some 

instances of resistance.

The most well-known example is that of Paul and Tatiana 

Rusesabagina, portrayed in the movie Hotel Rwanda. Through 

bribery with money and alcohol, Paul was able to save his family 

and nearly 1,000 Tutsis hiding out in the Hôtel Mille des Collines.

88 A number of priests and Christian workers resisted militia efforts to round up Tutsi hiding in churches or schools, 

and in some cases they were killed along with their charges.89

In another instance, an Interahamwe leader actually saved almost everyone on his hill by telling authorities he had already 

killed all of the enemies.90 There were several accounts of Hutu 

individuals helping Tutsi survivors by hiding them or supplying food, but this was publicly prohibited, and those who were 
65

GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

caught received the same brutal treatment as the fugitives they 

fostered.91 These examples were, unfortunately, the exception, 

not the rule.

Efficiency, maintained by premeditated planning and practice, was important in order to eliminate the Tutsi before the 

RPF could advance to stop the operation or the outside world 

could see the tragedy through the fog of civil war and intervene. 

The premeditation of the killings is evidenced by the appearance of Interahamwe roadblocks in Kigali less than an hour 

after President Habyarimana’s plane was shot down, the strident broadcasts that same evening on RTLMC to avenge the 

president’s death and fill the graves completely, as well as the 

death lists the presidential guard carried during their first days 

of killing.92 These lists ensured that leaders like Prime Minister 

Agathe Uwilingiyimana, president of the Constitutional Court 

Joseph Kavaruganda, and all opposition party members were 

killed first.93 With the opposition eliminated, the genocide planners installed a provisional government consisting entirely of 

Hutu power extremists, which appointed an army officer to 

each prefecture to direct local killings in the name of civil defense.94 According to one of the killers named Pancrace, “Rule 

number one was to kill. There was no rule number two. It was 

an organization without complications.”95

April 1994 was not the first time that groups of Hutus had 

organized and massacred Tutsis. There were at least nine rehearsal slaughters, beginning as early as October 1990 through 

January 1993, which killed an estimated 2,000 Tutsis and accomplice Hutus in more than 12 different communes.96 These 

practices not only helped the groups gain leadership and execution experience, but also reinforced the tradition of unquestioning obedience to authority in Rwanda.97 The degree of efficiency achieved is clear from the massacres in the Kibuye 

Province in the west, which saw over 200,000 of its estimated 

250,000 Tutsis killed.98

US/UN Nonintervention

The United Nations originally planned to enter Rwanda under the UN Observer Mission Uganda-Rwanda (UNAMUR), but 

the mission changed to UN Assistance Mission for Rwanda as 
GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

66

a peacekeeping force shortly after the Arusha Accords were 

signed.99 Debates over the appropriate size of the force ranged 

from 500 to 8,000 soldiers, and only Belgium seemed willing to 

commit the preponderance of troops.100 UNAMIR’s budget was 

not formally approved until 4 April 1994, just two days before 

the genocide began, leaving UNAMIR pitifully short on medicine, food, ammunition, and armored personnel carriers.101 As 

the genocide unfolded, Lieutenant General Dallaire stated that 

the rules of engagement allowed the use of deadly force to prevent crimes against humanity, but the responses he received 

from UN headquarters forbade using force unless fired upon 

and stressed negotiation to avoid conflict above all else.102 The 

reasons for the timidity in allocating troops, equipment, or 

money, lay in another African country to the northeast.

United Nations Security Council Resolution 794 was signed 

in December 1992, creating the mandate that led to Operation 

Restore Hope and an attempt to deliver relief supplies to the 

southern areas of Somalia. While this mission included US marines as part of the UNITAF, it was made very clear that deploying the marines was strictly a humanitarian event, and as such 

they would only use force in defense of themselves and food 

convoys. As tensions grew between the warlord Aideed and Ambassador Oakley, the Security Council passed a resolution that 

transitioned Restore Hope to UNOSOM II which widened the 

scope from purely humanitarian to forceful intervention in order to secure all of Somalia. After instances of bloodshed against 

Pakistani peacekeepers, the intervention shifted from a neutral 

humanitarian force to a war against Aideed. The climax occurred in the US Rangers’ and Special Forces commandos’ attempt to capture Aideed, which resulted in the deaths of 18 

Americans and about 200 Somalis along with the shootdown 

and capture of three American Blackhawk helicopters broadcast on CNN.103

Presidential Decision Directed 25 was a result of the Somalia 

experience, significantly reforming US policy on getting involved 

in peace operations. While it was not signed until May 1994, it 

was in draft process and on the minds of policy makers as the 

Rwandan genocide unfolded.104 When the 10 Belgian UNAMIR 

soldiers who were guarding Prime Minister Uwilingiyimana were 

murdered, it only seemed to reinforce the lessons learned from 
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GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

Somalia.105 Although the United States was ready to withdraw 

UNAMIR completely on 7 April 1994, it was the departure of the 

Belgians, the former colonial ruler, and resident experts on Rwanda, 

that signaled that the West had little appetite for intervention.

Additionally, Rwanda was not the only crisis du jour. President Clinton’s administration was busy handling unrest in 

Bosnia, Iraq, and, much closer to home with more probability 

for success, in Haiti.106 The simple fact was there seemed to be 

no vital American interests in Africa after the end of the Cold 

War, and Western media did not provide graphic images until it 

was too late. This was due to efforts of the Hutu killers to mask 

the genocide until after the evacuation of most Western journalists on 14 April 1994. Press reports about the killings generally described them as tribal or ethnic violence within the context of a vicious civil war, supporting arguments that only an 

overwhelmingly large intervention force could have stopped the 

killing, an option that seemed to be out of the question. Even in 

May 1994, after the genocide had been publicly revealed and 

Lieutenant General Dallaire had requested 5,500 reinforcements for UNAMIR’s dwindling forces, the will to intervene remained low. Just prior to the vote on the matter, a representative from Rwanda spoke to the General Assembly, describing 

the killings as an interethnic war caused by years of ruthless 

Tutsi domination of the Hutu majority.107 The Security Council 

voted to authorize the increase in UNAMIR troops, but that is 

all it was, an authorization––no troops were ever deployed due 

to arguments over who would pay for the operation and whether 

or not it would remain a peacekeeping operation or transition 

to peace enforcement.108

Intervention and Airpower

The first step to determining whether or not the United States 

could have intervened involves determining when our leadership could have realistically known that Rwanda was in the 

throes of genocide and reacted appropriately. One argument is 

that, based on extensive open-source reporting during the first 

two weeks of the genocide, “. . . the president of the United 

States could not have determined that a nationwide genocide 

was under way in Rwanda until about April 20th.”109 However, 
GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

68

this assumes complete ignorance of any ethnic hostility or 

plans of genocide within Rwanda. Lieutenant General Dallaire 

had actually been contacted by a leader of the Interahamwe, 

code-named Jean-Pierre, who spoke of lists of Tutsi victims as 

well as a plan to exterminate the Tutsi in Rwanda and offered 

to reveal the four arms caches in Kigali to UNAMIR troops.110

The informant even mentioned a plan to kill some Belgian soldiers in order to force them to withdraw from Rwanda and effectively prevent the West and the United Nations from intervening.111 Although Dallaire’s request to raid these caches was 

denied, the request should have signaled the prospect of genocide to New York and Washington. Three months later, when 

widespread violence broke out and 10 Belgian peacekeepers 

were killed, it should have been seen as a confirmation of JeanPierre’s report to Dallaire.

In defense of the decision makers, this was a definite case of 

information overload and very real confusion over whether or 

not the massacres were genocide or a natural result of renewed 

civil war, but it is possible that policy makers in Belgium, the 

United States, France, and the United Nations understood or at 

least suspected the threat of genocide.112 Before evacuating the 

country, journalists described the violence as systematic killings on an ethnic basis, and as early as 8 April, Lieutenant 

General Dallaire sent a cable to the United Nations requesting 

permission to transition to a chapter 7 operation.113 Based on 

a discussion paper on Rwanda, dated 1 May, that specifically 

warned against “signing up to troop contributions” and being 

careful about actually using the word genocide because it could 

force the United States to “do something,” it is very likely that 

policy makers knew a mass killing or genocide was occurring in 

Rwanda but lacked the political will to intervene.114 As a result 

nothing happened, and genocide proceeded as planned. One 

official remarked, “Everyone knew, even in Belgium, what was 

going to happen because the organization of the genocide had 

been in place for a long time.”115

Assuming that the international community knew that Rwandan Tutsis were the objects of systematic genocide by 20 April 

1994, could the increase in UNAMIR troops really have made a 

difference? Col Scott Feil, summarizing the conclusions of a 

1997 Carnegie Commission conference tasked with consider-
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GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

ing whether “the introduction of international military force 

into the situation in Rwanda in 1994 could have had any effect 

on the situation there,” concluded that “based on the presentations by the panel and other research, the author believes that 

a modern force of 5,000 troops, drawn primarily from a single 

contributing country, and inserted between April 7th and 21st, 

could have significantly altered the outcome.”116 The panel assessed both General Dallaire’s April 1994 proposal to “obtain 

reinforcements, stop the genocide, and bring the parties back 

to the [Arusha] peace process,” and a more aggressive scheme 

that envisioned (1) interposing forces between the RPF and 

FAR, and (2) securing the capital and countryside through use 

of tactical and strategic air mobility.117

The conference’s conclusion rested on the assumption that a 

“window of opportunity for the employment of such a force” 

existed from about 7 to 21 April 1994 and that “US participation would have been essential.”118 It is important to note that 

airlift would have been hard pressed to deliver combat capability 

within this time table. Sending a force of 5,000 troops closely 

corresponded to Dr. Alan J. Kuperman’s “moderate intervention force” of 6,000 troops, which would have required 21 days 

to arrive.119 Given the best-case notification of 8 April and following Dr. Kuperman’s reasoning, those forces would not have 

arrived until 29 April after an estimated 250,000 Rwandans 

had already been killed.120 While this moderate force could 

have saved 100,000 Tutsis, completely stopping the genocide 

would have required approximately 15,000 troops and an estimated 40 days of airlift.121 While it would have been difficult to 

impossible to meet the 7 to 21 April window, any intervention 

would have likely saved thousands of Tutsi lives. Would the 

risks have been low?

The French intervention of late June through August 1994, 

Operation Turquoise, may not be the best yardstick to measure 

risk. The French intervention force was robust, numbering 

2,500 soldiers, over 100 armored vehicles, artillery, helicopters, as well as ground-attack and reconnaissance aircraft.122

However, the French forces encountered little resistance from 

the Rwandan government and its genocidal killers because 

many Hutus viewed the intervention as a repeat of 1990, when 

France intervened along with troops from Zaire to repel an RPF 
GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

70

advance that threatened to reach Kigali.123 As for the RPF, the 

French encountered no opposition from RPF troops because 

French units entered from Cyangugu, far to the southwest in 

Rwanda, well away from the RPF-FAR front lines. RPF envoys 

in Paris had been assured that heavy firepower would remain 

in Zaire unless French troops were attacked, and French units 

refused to be drawn into the civil war.124 An earlier insertion of 

French forces directly into Kigali to stop the mass killings would 

have been much riskier, requiring a larger intervention force.

Airpower would have been vital to the success of any intervening force and could have mitigated the risk substantially in 

some areas while exposing new risks in other areas. Some of 

the capabilities airpower would have brought to the fight include airlift, electronic attack, direct attack/show of force, and 

reconnaissance. Airlift would be crucial for quickly delivering 

intervening troops and equipment, maintaining supply lines, 

and delivering humanitarian assistance for refugees and displaced persons. Airlift also could have mitigated the risk to personnel injured in combat operations, providing medical evacuation that might have saved the life of peacekeepers such as 

Uruguayan major Juan Saúl Sosa, who died an hour after a 

rocket attack on his vehicle, when the ambulance and armored 

personnel carrier sent to rescue him broke down.125 With electronic attack, EC-130 Commando Solo aircraft could have removed the hate and murder messages of RTLMC from the airwaves and possibly replaced them with broadcasts to end the 

violence and portray the intervening force as truly neutral. This 

option was considered in early May 1994 but dismissed due to 

concerns over ineffectiveness versus cost and vulnerability of 

an aircraft with limited self-protection.126

Both airlift and electronic attack capabilities raise concerns 

for finding suitable airfield facilities and offload capabilities 

as well as force protection. Strategic airlift aircraft can carry 

more cargo than ever before, but they still require somewhat 

specialized equipment to offload palettes, store fuel, and process and protect warehouse supplies and equipment delivered. 

The only airport in Rwanda with that capability was Kigali 

International, right in the middle of the civil war and known 

to have had surface-to-air missiles fired at approaching aircraft. Other suitable airports include Bujumbura in Burundi 
71

GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

and Entebbe and Gulu in Uganda. Although controlled by 

Tutsis, Burundi would have been exceptionally risky, considering the assassination of President Ndadaye some six months 

earlier. One of the airfields in Uganda would have been a better option for force protection, but the RPF had recently assisted the coup there, and working with the Ugandan government would have been viewed as collaboration with the Tutsis 

and resulted in the loss of perceived neutrality. Based on 

these observations, any deployment of aircraft would have required diplomatic support and dedicated security, but Entebbe in Uganda and Bujumbura in Burundi would have been 

the best staging areas. Only after friendly forces had secured 

the airport in Kigali could planners have begun using the 

Rwandan capital for operations.

The ability to provide show of force and direct attack would 

have provided immense firepower for light infantry or even 

mechanized forces. Show-of-force flights could have obviated 

ground combat and dispersed roadblocks and large groups of 

militia. This was true during Operation Provide Comfort in Iraq, 

when fighter aircraft would fly low over Iraqi units that were 

slow in withdrawing or orbit visibly during negotiations.127 The 

psychological influence of aircraft overhead would have provided a strong deterrent and protective force for ground units 

or nongovernmental agencies conducting humanitarian assistance.128 Interdiction could have been used in the form of punitive air strikes and might have coerced Rwanda’s interim government leaders to stop the genocide and return to the Arusha 

Accords. This would have required detailed and accurate intelligence on what centers of gravity those leaders possessed.129

However, an approach like the one taken in Operation Allied 

Force would not have been appropriate or effective for Rwanda, 

since Rwanda was not an industrialized nation like Serbia and 

there was still some question as to who was really in charge 

after President Habyarimana’s assassination. The primary 

drawback of close air support and interdiction missions is the 

risk of collateral damage and injury to civilians within the most 

densely populated country in Africa.

A last consideration, but definitely not the least, is reconnaissance. Reconnaissance would have provided information 

on militia roadblocks and movements as well as RPF locations 
GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

72

and concentrations. This knowledge would have been vital to 

massing the limited number of troops at decisive points or 

avoiding very large militant crowds. The MQ-1 Predator was 

used extensively in Operation Allied Force but, unfortunately, 

was still in development during the genocide of 1994.

Conclusion

Although the ethnic conflict between the Tutsi and the Hutu 

was not tribal but rather artificially created by the colonial influence of Germany and Belgium, the mistrust and hatred were 

very real by early 1994. Combined with a devaluation of human 

life, a small group of Hutu extremists used these factors to convince thousands of ordinary citizens that killing neighbors, 

family members, men, women, and children was no more than 

yard work. This does not and should not create an image of a 

primitive African society incapable of living in peace and prosperity, but rather an image of using genocide as a mean to a 

political end.

The United States and United Nations could have intervened 

and made a difference in the Rwanda genocide of 1994. However, the operation would have been medium to high risk and 

it is impossible to accurately estimate how many people could 

have been saved. Due to the lack of vital national interest in 

Central Africa and the recent experience in Somalia, with 

which every American with a television was familiar, convincing the American public of a need to intervene would have 

been difficult during the period when intervention would have 

been most effective.

Despite these reservations, the United States should have 

been the leading country in an intervention in Rwanda. The 

United States should have recognized that genocide was occurring, given the information that we possessed. We should have 

encouraged other nations, especially other African nations with 

a vested interest in stability in their region, to provide the troops 

and materiel for intervention and offered logistical, communications, and airpower support. We did nothing as hundreds of 

thousands were slaughtered. As Edmund Burke remarked two 

centuries ago, “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is 

that good men do nothing.”
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GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

Notes

1. Dallaire and Beardsley, Shake Hands with the Devil, xviii.

2. Prunier, The Rwanda Crisis, 5, 39.

3. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 33–34.

4. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 5.

5. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 50.

6. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 32–33.

7. Melvern, Conspiracy to Murder, 4.

8. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 14.

9. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 48.

10. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 36.

11. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 6–7.

12. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 56.

13. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 36.

14. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 11–13.

15. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 34.

16. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 25.

17. Ibid., 25.

18. Ibid., 26–27.

19. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 56.

20. Melvern, Conspiracy to Murder, 5–6.

21. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 27.

22. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 57.

23. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 35.

24. Ibid., 27.

25. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 57.

26. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 28.

27. Ibid.

28. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 57.

29. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 33.

30. Ibid., 38.

31. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 36.

32. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 39.

33. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 38.

34. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 43.

35. Ibid.

36. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 58.

37. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 45.

38. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 58.

39. Ibid.

40. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 46–47.

41. Ibid., 47.

42. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 58.

43. Ibid., 58–59.

44. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 49.

45. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 59.
GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

74

46. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 51.

47. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 59; and Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 51.

48. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 53.

49. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 61.

50. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 58.

51. Ibid., 60.

52. Ibid., 62.

53. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 65.

54. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 54.

55. Ibid., 55–56.

56. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 64–65.

57. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 227.

58. Ibid., 67.

59. Ibid., 70–71.

60. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 73.

61. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 73.

62. Ibid., 93.

63. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 50.

64. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 113.

65. Ibid., 113, 116–17.

66. Ibid., 174–80.

67. Ibid., 4.

68. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 4; and Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the 

Story, 31.

69. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 84.

70. Melvern, Conspiracy to Murder, 9–10.

71. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 65.

72. Melvern, Conspiracy to Murder, 11–13.

73. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 85.

74. Melvern, Conspiracy to Murder, 14–15.

75. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 199.

76. Ibid., 200.

77. Ibid.

78. Ibid., 228.

79. Ibid., 265. Prunier estimates the number of Tutsis killed between April 

and July 1994 at 800,000 to 850,000 persons, with an unknown (“between 

10,000 and 30,000”) number of Hutu moderates killed.

80. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 99.

81. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 133; and Melvern, Conspiracy to Murder, 53.

82. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 189.

83. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 89.

84. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 224; and Melvern, Conspiracy to Murder, 205.

85. Hatzfeld, Machete Season, 25.

86. Ibid., 64.

87. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 133.

88. Ibid., 117–18, 127.

89. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 254, 259.
75

GENOCIDE, AIRPOWER, AND INTERVENTION

90. Ibid., 257.

91. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 221.

92. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 223–24.

93. Ibid., 230.

94. Melvern, Conspiracy to Murder, 212.

95. Hatzfeld, Machete Season, 10.

96. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 87.

97. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 245.

98. Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You, 29.

99. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 131.

100. Dallaire and Beardsley, Shake Hands with the Devil, 75–76.

101. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 132.

102. Dallaire and Beardsley, Shake Hands with the Devil, 229.

103. Drysdale, “Foreign Military Intervention in Somalia,” 127–28, 131–32.

104. Carr, “Military Intervention during the Clinton Administration,” 17.

105. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 230.

106. Carr, “Military Intervention during the Clinton Administration,” 12.

107. Ibid., 235.

108. Melvern, Conspiracy to Murder, 231–32, 234–35.

109. Kuperman, The Limits of Humanitarian Intervention, 24.

110. Dallaire and Beardsley, Shake Hands with the Devil, 141–43.

111. Ibid., 143.

112. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 595.

113. Ibid., 19.

114. Discussion Paper, 1 May 1994.

115. Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, 622.

116. Feil, Preventing Genocide, 3.

117. Ibid., 7, 16.

118. Ibid., 26–27.

119. Kuperman, The Limits of Humanitarian Intervention, 76.

120. Ibid., 16.

121. Ibid., 76.

122. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 291.

123. Melvern, Conspiracy to Murder, 243.

124. Prunier, Rwanda Crisis, 285–93.

125. Dallaire and Beardsley, Shake Hands with the Devil, 423–24.

126. Wisner to Berger, 5 May 1994.

127. Tubbs, Beyond Gunboat Diplomacy, 18.

128. Ibid., 11.

129. Ibid.

77

Case Study 3

Defeating Genocide

An Operational Concept Based 

on the Rwandan Experience

Lt Col Keith Reeves, USAF

“Please don’t kill me, I’ll never be Tutsi again,” were the last 

words of a three-year-old child after witnessing the deaths of 

his siblings just prior to Hutu militia slaying him also.1 He certainly did nothing wrong, was no threat to anyone, and his 

death flies in the face of the basic moral fiber with which every 

human being is born. Yet he was merely one of more than 

800,000 victims over a four-month period in a country having 

a pregenocide population of only 7.6 million.2 Not only was the 

world unified in its shock, it was also unified in its inaction. 

But Rwanda is not an isolated example in recent history—the 

actual numbers are staggering. Since 1945, over 60 distinct genocides have occurred with a minimum death toll of 50,000 each.3

At the writing of this study, genocides occurring in the Sudan 

and Congo together had resulted in an estimated 1.25 million 

deaths.4 The reason for inaction in Rwanda had less to do with 

apathy as much as lack of assurance of success. The world 

eventually recognized the genocide after initially denying it, but 

to no effect. According to University of Wisconsin professor Michael Barnett, the sheer scale, brutality, and apparent lowlevel of sophistication gave the world community an impression 

nothing could stop the killing.5 Like a giant oil spill in international waters, everyone agreed someone should clean it up, 

but no one wanted to volunteer or knew how to go about it.

The seeds for genocide in Rwanda were planted when Belgian and German colonists placed the Tutsi minority at the top 

of a social hierarchy, stirring deep animosity in the Hutu majority over decades. When the Hutu came to dominate the 

Rwandan government shortly before independence from Bel-
DEFEATING GENOCIDE

78

gium in 1963, these animosities spiraled into violence with 

thousands of deaths.6

In 1993 a Tutsi rebel army, the Rwandan Patriotic Front, 

started making significant military gains.7 Feeling pressure 

from the RPF and Hutu moderates, the Rwandan government 

of Pres. Juvenal Habyarimana agreed to share power in a series 

of agreements culminating in the Arusha Accords. However, a 

relatively small number of Hutu remained vehemently opposed 

to any power sharing with the Tutsi, whom they viewed as their 

historical enemies, and saw elimination of the entire Tutsi 

people as the only and final solution. 

The Rwandan genocide was a confluence of the right conditions, actors, and environment, together with international inaction, that resulted in the most efficient genocide in history.8

A meticulously planned and skillfully executed extermination 

resulted in an estimated 800,000 deaths of Tutsi and Hutu 

moderates in 100 days. This “Rwandan killing machine” was 

only possible through a well-organized structure and ran nonstop until a combination of RPF victories and lack of potential 

victims brought it to a halt. The world community largely ignored the genocide until it was too late to save a significant 

number of lives. Ironically, many countries eventually contributed overwhelming support after the genocide had run its 

course, while a fraction of that expenditure might have averted 

the need.

What factors caused democracies to flout the basic laws of 

humanity and ignore carnage on this scale? How can militaries 

effectively focus their power against genocide? And, how can 

the international community make “never again” more than a 

hollow catchphrase?

Raphael Lemkin, father of the term genocide, defined genocide as “a coordinated plan of different actions aiming at the 

destruction of essential foundations of the life of national 

groups, with the aim of annihilating the groups themselves.”9

Prof. Benjamin Valentino further describes how genocide can 

include a subset of “mass killings,” which also include political 

groups with no ethnic distinctions.10 This paper will combine 

both definitions of “genocide” for simplicity.

Clearly, the best way to deal with genocide is by prevention: 

eliminating fuel (i.e., conflict) before it is ignited. The inter-
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DEFEATING GENOCIDE

national community missed many opportunities to use nonmilitary instruments to encourage or coerce change. Warnings 

from human rights groups, intelligence analysts, and diplomats from many countries all predicted an impending ethnic 

clash of cataclysmic proportions prior to April 1994.11 Appropriate nongovernmental and intergovernmental organizations 

should have monitored key indicators of conditions for genocide and taken appropriate actions. Military intervention was 

the last and least-desirable option once genocidal activity was 

imminent or actually occurring. 

Military force can defeat genocides through an operational 

concept that we will call “rapid genocide intervention” (RGI). 

The objective of RGI is to preserve life with minimal risk while 

the international community takes on the more extensive 

task of ameliorating the conditions giving rise to genocide. 

RGI also defines a specific organizational structure for genocide intervention. 

The Problems of Military Intervention

Military intervention to prevent or stop genocide has inherent challenges. Political will for genocide intervention is often 

lacking, particularly if the operation involves any risk, especially when the national interests of potential interveners are 

not threatened. Even if action is taken, the time required to 

drum up support can result in killings preventable by a more 

rapid response. The very concept of slaughtering humans 

merely because they exist is so alien to most people that until 

recently no conceptual frameworks have been developed to deal 

with genocide.12

Governments are reluctant to employ armed forces in foreign 

conflicts when their national interests are not at stake. This 

realism dominates the thinking of most government leaders 

when considering intervention. The Weinberger doctrine, 

penned after 241 marines were killed during peacekeeping operations in Beirut, is a clear realist statement that conflicts 

must threaten vital US interests before American forces are 

committed to combat abroad.13

Although not part of any official policy, this thought process 

influenced other administrations well after Weinberger left his 
DEFEATING GENOCIDE

80

post, including the Clinton administration.14 Weinberger’s perspective regarding peripheral conflicts was certainly reinforced 

by the unforgettable pictures of Somalis dragging the bodies of 

US Rangers through the streets of Mogadishu.15 Those images 

poisoned American public opinion on humanitarian intervention more than the knowledge of saving thousands from famine. 

The same realism dominated six months later when Americans 

watched Rwandan death squads massacre nearly 800,000 Tutsis and Hutu moderates in 100 days.16 The US government 

downplayed the slaughter to avoid questions of military intervention. World leaders, including the Clinton administration, 

even refused to use the word “genocide” in public for fear it 

would remind others of their legal obligation to act.17 Evidence 

suggests this failure to classify the situation in Rwanda as 

genocide early on actually emboldened its perpetrators and 

leaders, who were sensitive to international attention and susceptible to pressure.18

The cold, hard fact is national interests were not at stake. 

Countries had little to gain through intervention and, potentially, much to lose. The Clinton administration predicted a 

backlash if America had intervened in Rwanda, with good reason, considering the fresh memories of Somalia. Even when 

attempting to replace this perspective with a value-driven one, 

the world is often thankless, or even critical. 

During Operation Allied Force, despite the tens of thousands 

of Kosovar lives saved, a group of lawyers from several democratic countries attempted to charge NATO leaders for criminal 

violations of international law before the UN War Crimes Tribunal 

at The Hague. The charges were eventually dismissed by the 

tribunal.19 And counterintuitively, Human Rights Watch was 

scathingly critical of Operation Allied Force and recommended 

severe restrictions on military intervention in the future.20

What motivation exists for countries to replace a realist perspective with a value-driven one? In order to make military intervention in genocide a practical option, the international 

community should adopt systems and procedures that can 

overcome natural tendencies toward political realism. But even 

if this is accomplished, weak national will can make interventions ineffective or irrelevant. 
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DEFEATING GENOCIDE

Military intervention can commence very quickly, but reluctance to intervene in crises often results in the avoidable loss of 

lives during the period prior to intervention. The United Nations required six months to fully deploy its forces to Rwanda, 

after 800,000 had been murdered and far too late to accomplish anything except assisting the few Tutsi and Hutu moderates who remained after the RPF swept the extremist government from power.21 This slow response had nothing to do with 

the lack of capability to rapidly deploy, but the lack of political 

will which promoted foot-dragging by the realist elements in 

society.22 Even when concern over killings finally grew, the lack 

of a context with which to employ a rapid reaction indirectly 

resulted in many additional victims. By the time the public had 

seen the carnage on television from Rwanda and demanded action, the Hutu militia had run out of victims.23

Harvard professor Samantha Power points out that no US 

president has ever suffered for not making genocide intervention a priority.24 The public was initially largely uninterested in 

the killings in Rwanda—Congress received no flood of letters or 

deluge of phone calls demanding action.25 Even the media did 

not draw much attention to the tragedy, despite the vastness of 

its scope. During the genocide, 2,500 journalists converged on 

South Africa to report on Nelson Mandela’s election, while only 

15 covered the entire genocide at its peak.26 This was largely 

because news editors felt the United States would never act, 

and therefore thought it was not very newsworthy. This created 

a tragic paradox: the president would only intervene if the public expressed enough anger over the killings seen in the media. 

But the media would only report heavily on the killings if they 

thought the administration might intervene.27 However, even if 

the decision were made to intervene, could a conventionally 

trained military force actually have prevented the killing of 

8,000 people a day?

The method with which most Westerners view warfare, the 

“Western way of war,” classifies combat objectives in terms of 

victory or defeat accomplished in “decisive battles.”28 This context is not necessarily compatible with genocide intervention. 

Perceived inadequacies of the Western way of war also contribute to a reluctance to act. And if intervention occurs, the public 
DEFEATING GENOCIDE

82

will tend to see the defense of an entire ethnic, political, or social group as a Herculean task.

Many believe military solutions are ineffective against general 

uprisings within countries. Initially the State Department explained the Rwandan genocide as a spontaneous expression of 

tribal tensions throughout the country.29 Genocide was thereby 

perceived as an extreme manifestation of riot, or violent mob 

action, where military capabilities would have only limited effects. Nevertheless, Lawrence College professor Nicholas Mills 

asserts that all modern genocides actually result from thoughtful calculations and premeditation, not sudden and spontaneous manifestations of ethnic, political, or social hatreds.30

Defining success in military operations driven by social values 

instead of national interests is difficult. Sometimes, the wrong 

standards are used to find victory conditions in humanitarian 

operations. Princeton University professor Jeffrey Herbst, and 

Walter Clarke, deputy chief of the US Embassy during Operation Restore Hope, state how the public did not see the Somalia 

intervention as a great victory even though it saved tens of 

thousands of lives; the public considered the United States to 

have “lost” when 18 soldiers were killed.

Additionally, the usual definition of war may not apply to 

enemy objectives. Clausewitz defined waging war as “compelling an enemy to do one’s will.”31 But perpetrators of genocide 

do not compel their victims to do anything. Consider the statement of a Hezbollah spokesman, “We are not fighting so that 

you will offer us something. We are fighting to eliminate you.”32

The Hutu were not looking for B. H. Liddell Hart’s “better state 

of peace” alongside the Tutsi. The political objectives, although 

important for a long-term solution, are irrelevant in the near 

and short term. Even if the Hutu had legitimate political grievances, it was the means by which they addressed them that 

constituted legitimate cause for intervention by the international community. This confusion over “victims” resulted in development of inappropriate and, therefore, ineffective responses to the situation in Rwanda.

Three options were considered by the United Nations for intervention: peace enforcement by “all means necessary,” creating 

safe havens in-country, and setting up refugee camps on the 

borders.33 The latter two would have saved few lives, and the 
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DEFEATING GENOCIDE

first option was even worse—the United Nations was fully aware 

it had no plan in case the intervention force actually came into 

contact with the Rwandan Army.34 A doctrine for disrupting 

genocides while they are occurring is needed.

Expecting countries to “step up to the plate” for the sake of 

humanity is not realistic. Furthermore, the formation of coalitions is a time-consuming process, where there is little unity of 

effort, and often results in bad decisions or critical delays. Is it 

possible to create a workable operational concept that is driven 

by values, rapidly creates decisive effects, and can be steadfast 

in the face of inevitable and powerful political opposition?

Rapid Genocide Intervention

Conventional militaries are structured to defeat enemies that 

threaten national interests. But genocide is not traditional warfare. It is a systematic process of killing a group of people simply because they exist.35 Although stopping genocide through 

conventional military means is clearly possible, such as in Operation Allied Force or World War II, very high levels of political 

and logistical effort and large amounts of time are required to 

deploy the necessary forces. The time expenditure reduces the 

chances for saving lives. Early intervention in the progress of 

genocide is necessary to stop the killing.

The objective of RGI is to quickly and efficiently disrupt the 

process of killing while creating favorable conditions for the more 

difficult and time-consuming effort of addressing the underlying causes of mass murder. RGI views genocide as a system 

with specific critical components that can be weakened or neutralized to bring on paralysis. Once this occurs, a safe environment can exist in which local governmental, nongovernmental, 

and intergovernmental organizations can work to ameliorate 

and then eliminate the economic, political, and social conditions that led to genocide.

The characteristic which sets RGI apart from conventional 

intervention doctrine is the speed of employment and the limit 

of its objectives. The goal of RGI is paralysis of a genocide system. Any degradation in the genocidal system that leads to paralysis is a victory. RGI is the rapid disruption of genocide to 

preserve innocent lives while allowing time for a more conven-
DEFEATING GENOCIDE

84

tional civil/military response to seek longer-term solutions. 

Since halting the killing is the immediate objective, separation 

of the command structures of RGI forces and the longer-term 

response forces is necessary. Any linking of the two will slow 

down the RGI response.

The genocide system that operated in Rwanda was astonishingly efficient. Less efficient genocide systems require less immediate responses to save lives. Low genocide systems may 

allow simultaneous deployment of RGI forces and longer-term 

response forces that may bring even more satisfactory results. 

But saving lives will always be of paramount importance.

An RGI force is intended to disrupt genocide systems. Military theorists including J. F. C. Fuller, Brig Gen William L. 

“Billy” Mitchell, Col John Warden, and others have developed 

doctrine based upon the premise that an enemy system can be 

paralyzed by neutralizing specific logistical, industrial, commandand-control, or other strategic “nodes.” University of Massachusetts professor Ervin Staub conducted extensive research 

in the field of psychology to show nearly all twentieth century 

genocides only occurred within very obedient and hierarchical 

cultures, including Armenia, the Holocaust, Cambodia, as well 

as Rwanda.36 Hiroshima City University professor Christian 

Scherrer went on to show how blind obedience to authority was 

especially ingrained in the culture of the Rwandan people and 

a significant factor in the efficiency of that genocide system. 

The society was similar to Stalin-era Russia with multiple organizational layers of authority and a culture of not questioning 

orders. The Rwandan culture of obedience went so far as to 

compel large numbers of priests to inform on the Tutsi members of their own congregations.37

To achieve a rapid halt to the killing, RGI requires timely and 

accurate intelligence of impending genocide. There is a critical 

period immediately prior to launching an efficient genocide 

system when the crucial warning signs are identifiable by properly trained analysts. These signs have been documented.38

Even efficient genocide systems tend to begin relatively 

slowly, and then gather momentum as their various mechanisms come up to speed. The Rwandan system began with targeted executions in the capital of Kigali before moving out into 

the countryside.39 The very first victims of the Holocaust were 
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DEFEATING GENOCIDE

the mentally retarded, and then the process was ramped up to 

include Slavs, Gypsies, Jews, and others.40 Similarly, the Cambodian genocide began with the expulsion of all the inhabitants 

of Phnom Penh, which initially killed the very young, the weak, 

and the elderly.

Obviously, the number of victims in a given time period is 

proportional to the genocide system’s efficiency. Figure 2 illustrates how an RGI need not completely eliminate the genocide 

system—the goal is preservation of life while developing a safe 

environment for the important, if slower, international response 

to address long-term stability issues. Any reduction in efficiency 

of a genocide system will save a significant number of lives.

The media picked up on the primitive weapons often used 

in the Rwandan genocide and incorrectly deduced that its organization was equally primitive.41 Nothing was further from 

the truth. The Rwandan genocide system was the epitome of 

an efficient killing machine. There were decisive points where 

Figure 2. Graphical propagation of a genocide over time

Intervention should

occur before this point

Warning Signs Time

A

B

A1

B1

Victims

Total victims

Victims per unit time (with lower efficiency)

Total victims (with lower efficiency) B

B1

A

A1

Victims per unit time

Difference in lives saved
DEFEATING GENOCIDE

86

a small, well-prepared RGI force could have disrupted the 

system’s efficiency.

The Rwandan Killing Machine

The Rwandan killing machine was a system with multiple, 

interdependent layers of organization. The system was greater 

than the sum of its various elements. Genocides are truly dynamic systems, with each element feeding off and strengthening the others to the point where the system itself is capable of 

accomplishing significantly more than the various components 

could have if working independently. In order to implement 

RGI, one has to identify the components of the killing system, 

identify their nodes of interaction, and then target these nodes 

to slow down the killing process. Before turning to this nodal 

analysis, one has to identify the components of the genocide 

system. In Rwanda, these were Akazu, the igitero, the Rwandan 

army, the civil administration, the AMASASU, political youth 

groups, radio broadcasters, and the logistical infrastructure 

linking these elements together. 

Akazu

The Akazu was an informal organization consisting of Hutu 

extremists in various high levels of government. This group was 

fanatical in its belief of Hutu supremacy and the necessity of 

eradicating the Tutsi. They had close ties with each other 

through blood or tribal relations, as they were mostly from the 

same two communes in the northwestern part of the country. 

Led by Juvenal Habyarimana and his wife Agathe, the Akazu

was able to place whom they wanted in many key military and 

civilian positions of power.42 These included the chief of staff of 

the army, several cabinet ministers, heads of key political parties, and owners of critical businesses such as public radio. 

Although Habyarimana’s death was possibly the result (no one 

knows for sure) of his support for the Arusha Accords, any 

moderation he displayed was purely for political reasons. He 

was a key member and cofounder of the informal structure responsible for planning, initiating, and directing the genocide. 
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DEFEATING GENOCIDE

The total number of members of the Akazu is not known, but 

approximately 200 were captured and held under charges of 

crimes against humanity.43 The Akazu used its influence to 

compel various key organizations to support their radical viewpoints. Once a government or private organization was informally under control of the Akazu, it became an instrument of 

the genocide, despite the fact that not everyone in the organization necessarily supported the killing. Passionate calls for Hutu 

solidarity by the Akazu within the various organizations, especially in light of the conflict against the RPF, made overt opposition to genocidal policies difficult for Hutu moderates.44

Igitero

An igitero (pl. ibitero, meaning, roughly, “attack mobs” or 

death squads) was at the lowest echelon of the killing machine, the tip of the spear.45 These groups typically ranged 

from one to a few dozen primitively armed men. By themselves, they seemed little more than mobs armed with crude 

weapons and fanatical beliefs. However, their efforts were significantly multiplied by the less visible elements making up 

the rest of the killing machine.46

Rwandan Army

Although responsible for many of the early killings, the army 

came to provide organizational and logistical support to the genocide system that proved to be indispensable. For example, army 

vehicles and communications equipment provided an element of 

mobility, logistical support, and command and control enabling 

the genocide system to achieve its highest levels of efficiency.

Civil Administration

The Rwandan structure of government offered a preexisting organization that the Akazu could manipulate for its purposes. 

Rwanda is subdivided into 12 prefects (led by a prefecture), further divided into 154 communes (led by a burgomaster), and again 

into 1,500 sectors, 9,000 cells, and hundreds of thousands of 

nyumbakumi, which was a unit of 10 houses.47 An appropriate 

level of bureaucracy supervised each layer of administration.
DEFEATING GENOCIDE

88

The formal structure this organization provided was critical to 

rapidly transforming a mostly peasant population into a productive pool of manpower to occupy roadblocks, accomplish searches, 

feed and house ibitero, and provide intelligence.48 Hundreds of 

thousands of laborers were needed to support the lethal acts of 

the tens of thousands of active killers. The military and militia 

were too small to kill on this scale by themselves.49 This civil 

administration also acted as a type of “secret police,” using their 

authority to intimidate large numbers of Hutu that otherwise 

might not have participated in the genocide. It also rapidly disseminated orders, names, and addresses of targets within their 

administrative areas to subordinate units.50

AMASASU

The Rwandan government created an organization ostensibly to defend against the RPF called the AMASASU, the Alliance 

of Soldiers Provoked by the Age-old Deceitful Acts of the Unarists 

(Alliance des Militaires Agacés par les Séculaires Actes Sournois 

des Unaristes and, literally, “bullets” in a local language). They 

were cynically called a self-defense force but existed for no 

other real purpose than to antagonize the Tutsi minority. They 

recruited one married man between the ages of 25–40 from 

each nyumbakumi.51 The AMASASU was the brainchild of 

Akazu members and led largely by retired military personnel. 

They were among the most active killers in the genocide, while 

the more visible Rwandan army controlled the logistics and 

operational plans.52

Political Youth Groups

Probably the most fanatical killers belonged to the two most 

extreme political parties, the National Revolutionary Movement 

for Development (Mouvement Révolutionaire Nationale pour le 

Développement or MRND) and the Coalition for the Defense of 

the Republic (Coalition pour la Défense de la Republique or 

CDR). These parties developed youth groups called the Interahamwe (“Those who stand together” or “Those who work together” or “Those who fight together”) and the Impuzamugambi

(“Those who have the same goal” or “Those who have a single 

goal”) respectively. They were grassroots groups designed to 
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DEFEATING GENOCIDE

develop pride and solidarity among the Hutu youth and were 

instrumental in providing highly motivated manpower to form 

the vicious ibitero that ravaged the countryside.53 Although 

other youth groups existed, these two were the largest and 

most effective, with about 50,000 members between them.54

Radio

Public radio also had an enormous impact on the efficiency of 

the killing machine. The two main radio stations, RTML and Radio Rwanda, were used to incite, persuade, and direct large numbers of units in a rapid and positively controlled manner.55 The 

privately owned RTML and government-run Radio Rwanda were 

both operated by the Akazu.

56 As an example of how the Akazu

was linked to every aspect of government, 40 of the 50 founders 

of RTML were from the same commune as other members of the 

Akazu, and the daughter of the chief financier of the station was 

married to Habyarimana’s son.57 The radio was responsible for 

many tasks, including stirring ethnic tensions to incite violence, 

providing directions for carrying out executions, spreading fear 

with fictitious reports of Tutsi infiltrators, providing techniques 

for finding Tutsis in hiding, recalling retired soldiers to active 

duty, making requests for special skills such as driving bulldozers, organizing manpower for tasks such as ditch digging, demonizing moderate Hutu for not participating, and accomplishing 

many other functions using wit and popular programming.58

Communications and Logistics

In addition to these other elements, the Rwandan killing machine was held together by an intricate logistical support structure only the preexisting frameworks of the civil administration 

and army could provide. If the genocide was slow to develop or 

became out of control in a certain prefecture, the civil administration would use its network to report this information up the 

chain to the Akazu. They would then direct other prefectures to 

mobilize ibitero from the AMASASU or youth groups. The army 

would use its vehicles to rapidly transport the ibitero to where 

they were needed. Once there, the civil administration and army 

would combine to locate, isolate, identify, and kill the Tutsi. 

Each element of the killing machine had a specific role, and like 
DEFEATING GENOCIDE

90

factory workers on a production line, the amount they could accomplish together was significantly greater than the sum of what 

they could accomplish individually. Figure 3 seeks to show how 

the components of the killing system interacted with one another, creating nodes of interaction vulnerable to disruption.59

Figure 3. The Rwandan killing machine

Akazu

Close coordination (roadblocks, searches)

Central Direction (propaganda, instructions, encouragement)

Logistics (ammo, transportation, manpower, compensation)

President/Prime Minister

Radio Rwanda/

RTML

Interior Ministry

Prefecture

Commune

Sector logistics support

Military

Regiment/Battalion

Company/Platoon

Igitero

AMASASU

Retired Army Officers/NCOs

Communal Battalions

Igitero Igitero

Political Parties –

MRND/CDR

Youth Groups –

Interahamwe/

Impuzamugambi

Identifying Key Nodes

The goal of RGI is to create a significant reduction in the efficiency of the genocide at minimal risk, and thereby allow the 

conditions to create a long-term peace. Low-risk operations are 

essential because only low-risk operations have a realistic 

chance of gaining broad political support. Then, identification 

of key nodes of a genocide system is crucial to success for an 

intervening force.

In efficient genocides systems, these nodes will normally be 

located where the subsystems of a killing system interact. These 

subsystems include communication, logistics, propaganda, 

and reward subsystems. 
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DEFEATING GENOCIDE

Constant communication was required throughout the various levels of organization from the Akazu down to the ibitero. 

Many Tutsi were not easily distinguishable from Hutu, and the 

ibitero required help identifying them. Enormous quantities of 

information were needed from the local prefectures and burgomasters to identify Tutsi and find where they lived. Considering 

that the pregenocide Tutsi population was well over one million, the civil administration played an essential role towards 

the organization and efficiency of the genocide in intelligence 

and communications.60 Disrupting the ability to communicate 

would have significantly reduced the efficiency of the genocide. 

Many of the genocide participants did so only casually and 

were given enticements to kill. These included former Tutsi 

lands, cash payments, and even food. Considerable evidence 

suggests many of the perpetrators participated primarily because of these incentives, not for any ideological cause. Active 

militia membership swelled from 2,000 to 30,000, once word 

was spread that genocide participants were reaping huge rewards.61 Incentives were provided through the various levels of 

the system. For example, a burgomaster might advertise which 

areas of land had recently become available to compel nonparticipating Hutu to get involved. The reward or incentive subsystem contributed to overall killing efficiency. 

It is also important to note that this genocide required high 

numbers of “less fanatical” personnel to execute the plan. Much 

of the support for the genocide came from Hutus who were not 

fanatical but were genuinely motivated by fear and performed 

essential nonviolent tasks such as spying, manning roadblocks, 

pillaging, delivering food, and scouting. Although large in number, their low commitment would have made them easy to deter 

with a modest show of force.62 Intervention forces could have 

significantly exploited this concept through deterrence to disrupt many areas of the genocide. 

To further support this, consider the research of Yale professor Stanley Milgram. He is the psychologist famous for his experiments involving students administering what they thought 

were painful shocks to other participants whose false screams 

were heard by those directing the shocks.63 Although none of 

these students were masochistic or fanatical about determining the experiment’s results, they felt there was sufficient au-
DEFEATING GENOCIDE

92

thority to justify their actions. One conclusion from Milgram’s 

work is the most efficient way to disrupt the less-fanatical support of the genocide in Rwanda was to delegitimize the authority.

Flowing from the Akazu and the heads of the various organizations, central direction was required to successfully implement genocide. The impact that Rwandan radio had on the 

genocide’s efficiency is difficult to overstate. Instructions transmitted by RTLM and Radio Rwanda would dispatch ibitero to 

concentrations of Tutsi. Propaganda was centrally directed and 

critical to sustaining the genocide. Fictional accounts of atrocities committed by marauding bands of Tutsi and infiltrating RPF 

spread fear and motivated Hutu to participate when they otherwise might not have. Operating 24 hours a day, instructions, 

motivation, and propaganda were transmitted to the genocide 

system as a whole or to individual units, as necessary.64

An illustration of how radio rendered the killing process more 

efficient can be seen in the film Hotel Rwanda. A convoy of 62 

evacuees from the Hôtel Mille des Collines was attempting to 

reach the airport. The Akazu knew about the convoy and its 

occupants, and within a matter of minutes, Radio Rwanda directed several ibitero to intercept the convoy while reading the 

names of its evacuees over the air so the militia could separate 

the Tutsi when it was stopped.65

Additionally, the tactics of the genocide required meticulous 

planning at all levels to achieve the highest levels of efficiency. 

The genocide never would have gained its momentum with ibitero merely fanning out through the countryside with lists of 

Tutsis and their addresses. The genocide’s central direction established methods that worked like a hammer and anvil. Roadblocks were placed at strategic choke points through which all 

had to pass. Thousands were systematically and efficiently 

swept up as if in a dragnet and herded to these checkpoints. 

The ibitero at the roadblocks would check identification cards 

and immediately execute Tutsi or those without cards. The 

genocide system’s high level of efficiency at first gave the impression that there were very large numbers of killers, but the 

efficiency was really the result of meticulous planning and organization.66

Weapons, ammunition, and other supplies were also distributed efficiently. Although many of the ibitero used low-tech 
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DEFEATING GENOCIDE

weapons such as machetes, even these were distributed en 

masse through the networks set up by existing military and 

civil organizations. These preexisting hierarchies had the infrastructure to handle the tens of thousands of weapons and millions of rounds of ammunition required to sustain mass murder of this magnitude.67

Intervention Trinity

Understanding the structure and key nodes of the Rwandan 

killing machine, an RGI force could have disrupted the genocide with a combination of timely intelligence, broad resolve, 

and rapid reaction. Timely intelligence is needed to determine 

when genocide is occurring—or preferably, about to occur—

and how to defeat it. Resolve is necessary to decisively commit 

the forces without a delay, which could possibly signal tacit approval of mass murder. Rapid reaction is essential to deploy 

forces prior to a genocide system reaching its full potential.

An intervening force must examine the strategic situation 

and discern the differences between a genocide, civil war, organized crime, or just random violence. One of the major impediments to labeling the Rwandan conflict as genocide was reluctance to intervene in what many felt was merely a civil war.68

This determination must be made quickly and decisively. This 

requirement, in turn, requires a corporate knowledge base of 

key genocide warning signs and the ability to continuously 

monitor them. Specific indicators of genocide are already well 

known. Organizations such as Human Rights Watch have monitored them for years and used them to detect the Rwandan 

genocide as it unfolded.69 Once a genocide warning threshold 

is passed, tactical intelligence collection and analysis should 

go forward to identify and target key nodes for rapid genocidesystem disruption.

In addition to adequate intelligence, an intervention force 

must enjoy the support of strong, broadly based resolve. Although it may not have completely stopped the genocide, a unified coalition could have generated significant pressure against 

Rwanda. Despite the warning signs leading up to April 1994, 

no coherent unified policy was ever implemented to influence 

the situation. In fact, international aid actually increased by 50 
DEFEATING GENOCIDE

94

percent from 1990 to 1994 despite the escalating ethnic violence against the Tutsi throughout this time period. Christian 

Scherrer believes the Akazu members in government positions 

took this as tacit approval, or at least a sign of indifference by 

the international community.70

Most importantly, an RGI force must indeed react quickly. As 

figure 2 illustrates, a military force should intervene prior to 

the genocide making quantum leaps in efficiency. The level of 

effort required to suppress the genocide increases significantly 

after this point. The Rwandan genocide has shown many participants were willing to commit these atrocities when they 

thought it was accepted by those around them or when they 

simply believed others would condone it. There is strong reason 

to conclude even small amounts of resistance, especially by a 

country or organization with high international standing or 

power, might have deterred a large number of participants from 

continuing their support. Many of the poorly educated Hutu 

actually had a very strong conscience and understood right 

from wrong, but they were swept up in their culture of unquestioned trust in authority. Consequently, intervention forces 

could have easily dissuaded a significant number of them because of their low commitment.71 In fact, the genocide tended 

to avoid areas where Tutsi put up an even marginal resistance.72

Rapid reaction is all-the-more crucial in creating a deterrence 

factor prior to the population as a whole developing an attitude 

that supports or condones the violence. 

An RGI force must have a standing organization to monitor 

and then react to situations, and it must have access to theater 

mobility. After warning signs of genocide start to materialize, 

intervention forces cannot stand up, organize, and deploy in 

time to create decisive effects if units are not already on a highalert status. An intervention force must also have the ability to 

reach the region prior to the full mobilization of an efficient 

genocide system. Air mobility, including strategic, tactical, and 

rotary-wing airlift assets, is the only realistic means of providing needed rapid transportation. Previous failures in these areas have resulted in delays, underscoring the inability of international organizations to rapidly respond. The United Nations 

required a full six months for its full complement of troops to 
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DEFEATING GENOCIDE

arrive, once the decision was made to deploy them. The RPF 

had ended the genocide already.73

The combination of these elements—timely intelligence, resolve, and rapid response—creates a trinity (figure 4). The absence of any of these will render the RGI force ineffective. A 

lack of intelligence blinds an RGI to knowing when or how to 

react. Lack of broad resolve will prevent access to funding and 

niche capabilities only wealthier countries can supply, as well 

as provide encouragement to the killers. Inadequate mobility 

will leave even the best intentioned RGI with no means to halt 

the genocide in its infancy.

Figure 4. Intervention trinity

Broad-based resolve Focused intelligence

Rapid theater mobility

The Ideal Force

A well-trained force composed of regional troops lightly supported by wealthier countries could have prevented the Rwandan 

genocide. Shaharyar Khan, the United Nations’ special representative to Rwanda, describes how such a force could have disrupted the killing if it had access to well-trained troops, plus 

their required logistics, engineering requirements, communications, and other support normally accompanying a rapid-reaction 

force.74 He also recognized that financial constraints might prevent a full-time standing military force. However, a standing 

core agency at the regional level to train troops from the same 

general region, with a focus on RGI, is financially within the 

realm of possibility. 
DEFEATING GENOCIDE

96

Regional standing agencies for an RGI must be able to call 

upon appropriate intelligence resources, regional combat power, 

and special capabilities, such as airlift, from wealthier countries as needed. They would maintain standing headquarters to 

quickly stand up and then command RGI task forces if and 

when mobilized. Regional combat power is essential because it 

can best understand the complex local cultures and customs 

underlying any situation. This is not an entirely new concept, 

considering the African Union has performed peacekeeping in 

Liberia, the Congo, and Sierra Leone; the Organization of American States has done the same in Haiti; and the Association of 

Southeast Asian Nations helped to pacify East Timor.75

These regional standing agencies must enjoy broad-based 

support yet have the power to act nearly autonomously. They 

need to use the cultural expertise of regional troops who can 

understand the underlying social conditions better and who might 

also have more of a vested interest in stopping a genocide in their 

own backyard. Additionally, these troops must have some minimum level of proficiency to give the force credibility in the eyes 

of the killers, as well as the organization directing them to act. 

For Africa, the RGI force, centrally based in a stable country, 

could call upon wealthier countries to provide strategic transport and other unique capabilities such as jamming support 

and reconnaissance. Relatively short distance could allow high 

sortie rates, especially with airlift. The low-risk nature of their 

likely operating conditions will provide little reason for potential 

contributors to deny the requests. 

In Rwanda, US airlift could have transported battalions of the 

RGI force rapidly to neighboring Zaire or Uganda. UAVs could 

also have deployed from nearby countries for intelligence preparation of the battlefield, while EC-130s jammed key nodes such 

as RTLM, Radio Rwanda, and tactical communication frequencies used by the army and civil administration to control the 

ibitero. Additionally, airpower could have targeted landline 

nodes to prevent backup communications between the Akazu

and the genocide mechanisms. The EC-130s could have broadcast instructions to warn people off the streets. Not only would 

this have protected the Tutsis, since the largest massacres occurred when they left their homes, but UAVs could have more 

easily located ibitero traveling together in vehicles. They could 
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DEFEATING GENOCIDE

have easily tracked and identified them by the weapons they 

carried. Precision air strikes on a few ibitero would have quickly 

sent strong messages to the others to disband and that anyone 

carrying weapons in large groups would die. With airpower destroying the ability of the Akazu, the civil administration, and the 

army to organize, communicate with, or support the ibitero, the 

genocide system’s efficiency would have declined significantly.

But despite the tremendous capabilities airpower could have 

brought, the primary force would be RGI ground forces. Transported by helicopter, they could have rapidly fanned out to 

seize, disrupt, or destroy other key nodes of the Rwandan killing machine. They could have arrested or killed members of the 

Akazu. Their identities and probable locations would have been 

known from the months of intelligence previously collected by 

the RGI agency. RGI troops could have set up roadblocks to 

prevent the movement of ibitero and logistical support. But 

most importantly, the sudden presence of several thousand 

armed troops might have deterred the much larger number of 

less dedicated Hutu whose support was essential to the success of the genocide machine.

Finally, the best results of this operational concept could only 

result in a short-term solution. An RGI can save lives and buy 

time for the international community to address the longerterm issues. A full-scale campaign to remove the underlying 

sources of genocide (as in World War II or Kosovo) may create a 

longer-term solution, but the time spent creating coalitions, 

planning, and conducting the campaign with an objective of 

defeating the enemy makes preservation of life only a secondary priority.

Conclusion

Dealing with the Rwandan genocide must have seemed like 

trying to stop an avalanche after it had started. But with 8,000 

lives being lost every day, delay was unconscionable. Despite 

this, the international community delayed action until after the 

Rwandan killing machine had nearly succeeded in its purposes.

The experience in Rwanda demonstrates that there is a real 

need for a new operational paradigm. A conventional intervention force takes too much time to develop and deploy. A stand-
DEFEATING GENOCIDE

98

ing RGI force could quickly disrupt genocide by making key 

arrests, destroying headquarters, jamming radio broadcasts, 

controlling the flow of materiel and personnel through roadblocks, and staging deterrent air strikes or shows of force. This 

would convince the less-motivated peasants, the majority of 

participants, that implementing genocide would be difficult 

and costly. 

While the details of intervention were fruitlessly debated in 

1994, nearly a million people died. The RGI is an immediate 

response with a narrowly defined goal, buying time for larger 

forces and preventing mass killings from escalating. Although 

no solution is perfect, it provides the best opportunity to turn 

“never again” into a meaningful phrase.

Notes

1. Des Forges, Leave No One to Tell the Story, 212.

2. Ibid., 15; and “Rwanda: Population.”

3. Stanton, “Genocides, Politicides, and Other Mass Murder.”

4. Ibid.

5. Barnett, Eyewitness to a Genocide, 131.

6. Des Forges, Leave No One to Tell the Story, 39.

7. Ibid., 4.

8. Power, “Bystanders to Genocide.”

9. Valentino, Final Solutions, 9.

10. Ibid., 10.

11. Des Forges, Leave No One to Tell the Story, 142.

12. Khan, The Shallow Graves of Rwanda, 198.

13. “The Uses of Military Power,” PBS Online and WGBH/FRONTLINE.

14. Destexhe, Rwanda and Genocide in the Twentieth Century, 50.

15. Khan, The Shallow Graves of Rwanda, 199.

16. Des Forges, Leave No One to Tell the Story, 15. The 800,000 number 

includes all deaths from general chaos of the country’s internal struggles 

during that four-month period including Hutu moderates and soldiers from 

both sides. The number of Tutsi alone killed was at least 500,000.

17. Ibid., 641–42.

18. Ibid., 24.

19. Power, A Problem from Hell, 462.

20. Ibid. Among the recommendations were daylight bombing only, no attacks on command and control targets, no cluster munitions, more scrupulous target selection above the limits already in place, and others.

21. Khan, The Shallow Graves of Rwanda, 212.

22. Barnett, Eyewitness to a Genocide, 140.

23. Destexhe, Rwanda and Genocide in the Twentieth Century, 55–56.
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DEFEATING GENOCIDE

24. Power, A Problem from Hell, xxi.

25. Ibid., 375–77.

26. Ibid., 374.

27. Ibid., 374–75.

28. Echevarria, An American Way of War or Way of Battle.

29. Barnett, Eyewitness to a Genocide, 133.

30. Mills and Brunner, The New Killing Fields, 109.

31. von Clausewitz, On War, 75.

32. Kilcullen, “Counter Global Insurgency.”

33. Barnett, Eyewitness to a Genocide, 136.

34. Ibid., 140.

35. Destexhe, Rwanda and Genocide in the Twentieth Century, 4.

36. Mills and Brunner, The New Killing Fields, 108.

37. Scherrer, Genocide and Crisis in Central Africa, 113–14, 118.

38. An example can be found at Genocide Watch’s Web site http://www

.genocidewatch.org. Additionally, as of 9 February 2006, they have listed specific warning signs for genocidal conditions in Zimbabwe at http://www

.genocidewatch.org/alerts/zimbabwe200202.htm.

39. Des Forges, Leave No One to Tell the Story, 5, 213.

40. Bergen, War and Genocide, 101–2.

41. Destexhe, Rwanda and Genocide in the Twentieth Century, 33.

42. Scherrer, Genocide and Crisis in Central Africa, 105.

43. Ibid., 103.

44. Ibid., 6.

45. Mironko, “Iberito.” This paper was adapted from the author’s dissertation entitled “Social and Political Mechanisms of Mass Murder: An Analysis 

of Perpetrators in the Rwandan Genocide” (Yale University, 2004). It is based 

upon interviews of perpetrators and victims of the genocide and deals with 

the meaning of the concept of igitero and the workings of the genocide system 

at its lowest level.

46. Mills and Brunner, The New Killing Fields, 111.

47. Scherrer, Genocide and Crisis in Central Africa, 108.

48. Des Forges, Leave No One to Tell the Story, 8, 199.

49. Ibid., 231.

50. Ibid., 10–11, 237, 262. Burgomasters held lists of known Tutsi and 

very specific identification procedures for determination in case of mixed ethnicity. Some were considered Tutsi if lineage was traceable back to within 

three generations (i.e., if a direct ancestor back to your great-grandparent 

was Tutsi, then so were you).

51. Ibid., 102.

52. Ibid., 5.

53. Ibid., 227.

54. Destexhe, Rwanda and Genocide in the Twentieth Century, 29.

55. Des Forges, Leave No One to Tell the Story, 10, 24.

56. Scherrer, Genocide and Crisis in Central Africa, 104, 107.

57. Des Forges, Leave No One to Tell the Story, 68.

58. Ibid., 248–50.
DEFEATING GENOCIDE

100

59. Scherrer, Genocide and Crisis in Central Africa, 109.

60. Ibid., 110.

61. Des Forges, Leave No One to Tell the Story, 227.

62. Ibid., 9–10.

63. Blass, “The Man Who Shocked the World.”

64. Des Forges, Leave No One to Tell the Story, 6–8, 10, 24, 202, 256.

65. Mills and Brunner, The New Killing Fields, 118.

66. Des Forges, Leave No One to Tell the Story, 6, 213.

67. Ibid., 222.

68. Khan, The Shallow Graves of Rwanda, 196–97.

69. Destexhe, Rwanda and Genocide in the Twentieth Century, 91–94.

70. Scherrer, Genocide and Crisis in Central Africa, 179–80.

71. Mills and Brunner, The New Killing Fields, 112.

72. Des Forges, Leave No One to Tell the Story, 263.

73. Khan, The Shallow Graves of Rwanda, 212.

74. Ibid.

75. Ibid., 214.
101

Case Study 4

Côte d’Ivoire

Intervention and Prevention Responses

CDR Timothy E. Boyer, USN

“Never again,” people said after the Rwandan genocide, yet it 

seems that all conditions will soon be in place for a similar 

tragedy to take place in the Ivory Coast.1 These words were 

written in 2004 after four years of conflict, turmoil, and widening ethnic divides in a country once touted as “a veritable oasis 

of peace and stability and an ‘economic miracle’ in West Africa.”2

These ethnic divides have led to prejudice and discrimination 

that have escalated into widespread violence. If left unchecked, 

it is a situation that could degrade into genocide against the 

immigrant and Muslim segments of the population.

This study is an attempt to understand how a once peaceful 

and prosperous democratic country gets started down the path 

toward genocide by taking a look at the history of the current 

conflict in the Ivory Coast or the Côte d’Ivoire.3 An analysis of 

factors which trigger indicators of violent conflict and genocide 

suggests that a high potential for genocide within the Côte 

d’Ivoire exists. Fortunately, international involvement has been 

successful in preventing genocide from developing within this 

West African nation. 

France, the ECOWAS, and the United Nations all made significant contributions in arresting the movement towards genocide in the Côte d’Ivoire. The Côte d’Ivoire conflict serves as a 

case study that shows how a country acting on its own, a subregional organization, or an international organization can be 

effective in intervening in a crisis to prevent genocide. The international involvement in the Côte d’Ivoire conflict should 

serve as a model for future interventions. This case study provides potential lessons for how the United States should respond to similar situations where genocide threatens. 
CÔTE D’IVOIRE

102

Background

The roots of conflict in the Côte d’Ivoire lie in ethnic, religious, and regional divides that began to surface within the 

country in the late 1980s. These divides, largely created by the 

country’s ruling elite in order to maintain political power, resulted in a civil war between the largely Christian south and 

the mostly Muslim north. More critically, the conflict resulted 

in a xenophobic atmosphere which spawned ethnically based 

hatred and violence targeted against a large portion of the society 

labeled non-Ivorian. 

The Côte d’Ivoire, the world’s largest cocoa producer, was 

once hailed as the model for prosperity in West Africa. Its population represents a diversity of cultures and religion, comprised 

of over 60 different ethnic groups and sharing a variety of religious beliefs, with approximately 25 percent Christian, 40 percent Muslim, and 35 percent indigenous beliefs.4 The “Ivorian 

miracle,” a time of impressive economic growth in the 1960s 

and 1970s due mainly to coffee and cocoa exports, brought 

many immigrants into the Côte d’Ivoire, primarily from neighboring Burkina Faso, Mali, and Guinea. During these booming 

economic times, these immigrants were warmly welcomed into 

the country to provide a labor force for the cocoa plantations 

and elsewhere. They have come to represent more than one 

quarter of the country’s population.5

Demographically, the Côte d’Ivoire can be roughly divided 

into northern and southern halves. Southerners are mostly 

Christians or adherents of local religions. The country’s political 

elite have historically come from the South. The northern part 

of the country is mainly Muslim. Most of the country’s wealth 

is concentrated in the South, where the majority of commercial 

development is centered. The South also contains the country’s 

lucrative cocoa and coffee plantations, as well as the port of 

Abidjan, the commercial and governmental center of the nation. This port also serves as a critical hub for much of West 

Africa.6 Large numbers of northern Muslims have settled in the 

main cities of the South and have been working the cocoa and 

coffee plantations for decades. In contrast to many of the surrounding African nations, the different ethnic and religious 

groups have coexisted peacefully for much of the nation’s history. 
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This all began to change as the country’s booming economy 

started to spiral downward in the 1980s and 1990s. Competition for land and resources increased, heightening tensions between the southern elites and the immigrant and mostly Muslim northerners. 

When the southern elite realized that their hold on power, 

which they had enjoyed for over 30 years since the country 

gained independence, would not survive free elections, they began to disenfranchise the northerners, claiming that they were 

all immigrants and not true Ivorians.7 Xenophobic ideas blossomed, and from this, the notion of Ivoirité was born. Ivoirité is 

a term intended to separate “real” Ivorians from immigrants or 

those with a “mixed” background.8 The definition of “mixed” 

came to encompass Ivorians whose parents had come from 

other countries, and eventually most anyone in the Muslim 

north. The resulting political and social turmoil eventually led 

to a civil war between the North and South in September 2002. 

The situation also spawned ethnically motivated hatred and 

violence aimed at immigrants and northern Muslims. A UN aid 

coordinator summed up the situation by stating, “The Ivory 

Coast was where you made your dreams come true. Immigrants 

came here to do the jobs that Ivorian nationals didn’t want to 

do, but now the sentiment is that non-Ivorians should be 

chased out of the country.”9

History

The Côte d’Ivoire gained independence from France in 1960, 

and for 33 years was led by a single man, founder/president, 

Félix Houphouët-Boigney. Peace and stability, along with one 

of the most developed economies in Africa, characterized the 

nation for most of these three plus decades. HouphouëtBoigney’s Parti Democratique de la Côte d’Ivoire (PDCI or Democratic Party of the Côte d’Ivoire) was the only political party allowed to exist in the republic until 1990, when economic 

recession and other pressures forced the government to give in 

to demands for a multiparty system. Despite this, HouphouëtBoigney maintained popular support and was reelected by a 

large margin in 1990. The period under his leadership was conspicuous for its religious and ethnic harmony. This harmony 
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began to unravel following Houphouët-Boigney’s death in 1993, 

when the country first began to experience the manipulation of 

ethnic identities by politicians faced with competitive multiparty elections and power struggles among the elite.10

The national assembly leader, Henri Konan Bédié, a southerner and member of the PDCI, inherited the presidency in 

1993, but only after a bitter power struggle with the country’s 

prime minister, Alassane Ouattara, who was from the Muslim 

North and had family roots in neighboring Burkina Faso. This 

power struggle ignited what was to become an escalating chain 

of tensions and disputes within the country, based on ethnic 

politics. In addition to this political power struggle, the country 

experienced a serious economic downturn due to falling world 

cocoa and coffee prices that began in the late 1980s and continued into the 1990s. Bad policies, political corruption, and 

the escalation of nationalistic and xenophobic ideas within 

the Côte d’Ivoire marked Bédié’s term. He used these ideas to 

deflect blame for the country’s continuing economic problems. 

It was under his leadership that the concept of Ivoirité was born 

and flourished. 

Bédié fueled nationalistic currents in the prelude to the 1995 

elections by instituting an electoral code that required both 

parents of presidential candidates to be native-born Ivorians. 

This code was primarily aimed at excluding Ouattara, now representing the newly formed Rassemblement des Républicains

(RDR or Republican Rally party), from challenging Bédié for the 

presidency. Ouattara, who had strong support among immigrants and most of the North, was disqualified because it was 

claimed that his father was from the neighboring country of 

Burkina Faso. Bédié won the election, which was boycotted by 

many in the opposition due to the ethnic- and nationality-based 

exclusions of their candidates. Over the next several years, Ivoirité policies were expanded, and ethnic divides continued to 

widen. In 1998 land ownership was restricted to Ivorian citizens. Native southerners were encouraged to take lands that 

had long been held and worked by northerners and immigrants 

in the South.11 Nonsoutherners were removed from positions of 

power in the government and military. Discontent with the government continued to grow and in December 1999, members of 

the Ivorian army, upset by government policies and poor pay, 
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overthrew Bédié in a bloodless coup. Former army chief Robert 

Guéï, who had been fired by Bédié for refusing to use the army 

to crush civilians protesting the unfair 1995 elections, took 

over as president.12

President Guéï formed a government of national unity and 

scheduled open elections for the fall. Instead of reversing the 

Ivoirité policies of his predecessor, Guéï continued them, and 

the rift between the predominately Muslim North and mostly 

Christian South continued to grow. Guéï’s government drafted 

a new constitution that included an article stipulating that only 

those born in the Côte d’Ivoire of Ivorian-born parents could 

stand for election.13 This article was used to once again ban 

Ouattara, who now led the RDR party, from the October 2000 

presidential election. The PDCI’s leader and other leading candidates were barred from running as well. This effectively left 

Guéï to run against one candidate, the Front Populaire Ivoirien

(FPI or Ivorian Popular Front) party’s leader, Laurent Gbagbo. 

When early election results indicated that Gbagbo was winning, Guéï stopped the elections, disbanded the election commission, and declared himself the winner. These actions resulted in violent demonstrations by FPI supporters and after a 

few days of unrest, Guéï was forced to flee to France. Gbagbo 

quickly declared himself president since he had received the 

most votes before the process was halted. Up to this point, supporters of Ouattara and the RDR were united with FPI supporters in opposing Guéï. This changed, however, as soon as Gbagbo 

took office and refused to schedule a new and fair election. In 

December 2000, RDR supporters conducted large demonstrations to protest Ouattara’s exclusion from the process and demand new elections. The paramilitary gendarmery and police, 

along with the FPI mobs, took to the streets to stop the RDR 

demonstrations. This rapidly led to ethnic and religiously motivated violence, and several hundred people were killed before 

order was restored.14

In September 2002, an army mutiny led to a coup attempt 

against the government by former army officers. This attempted 

coup failed to overthrow Gbagbo, but was successful in igniting 

a full-scale rebellion. This rebellion split the country in two and 

ignited a civil war between the progovernment South and the 
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106

rebel North. Rebel leaders cited the controversial elections, which 

excluded Ouattara, as one of the reasons for their rebellion.15

The rebel group Mouvement Patriotique de Côte d’Ivoire (MPCI 

or Patriotic Movement of the Côte d’Ivoire) took control of the 

northern half of the country and in October, signed a cease-fire 

agreement with the government. French forces, already in 

country, agreed to monitor the east-west cease-fire line. This 

cease-fire did little, however, to limit reprisals by government 

security forces in southern held areas against family members 

of rebel leaders or suspected opposition. Added to the security 

forces was the appearance of paramilitary militia groups, 

formed under the guise of “patriotic defense.” These groups, 

the most extreme of which advocated cleansing the country of 

“immigrants,” have been responsible for organizing violent riots 

and systematic terror against Muslim, immigrant, or northern 

people.16 By November 2002, two new rebel groups emerged in 

the western part of the country, the Mouvement Populaire Ivoirien du Grand Ouest (MPIGO or Ivorian Popular Movement for 

the Great West) and the Mouvement pour la Justice et la Paix

(MJP or Movement for Justice and Peace), forming a western 

front. Together with the MPCI in the north, these three rebel 

groups formed an alliance called the New Forces.17

In January 2003, the ECOWAS placed 1,500 peacekeepers in 

the Côte d’Ivoire to assist a 4,000-member French force in 

maintaining a cease-fire line across both fronts. Later that 

month, the French government brokered the Linas-Marcoussis 

Accord (LMA) between the country’s major political parties and 

the New Forces. In the accord, the parties agreed to create a 

power-sharing, national reconciliation government that included representatives from the New Forces. They also agreed 

to work together on solving some of the root causes of the conflict to include modifying national identity, eligibility for citizenship, and land-ownership issues. Seydou Diarra, a native of 

the North and past prime minister under President Guéï, was 

appointed as prime minister, and in March 2003 a reconciliation government with 41 ministers was formed. The United Nations became involved in the Côte d’Ivoire situation in May 

2003 with the establishment of a peace-monitoring group under the Mission des Nations Unies en Côte d’Ivoire (MINUCI or 

UN Mission in the Côte d’Ivoire). In July this government signed 
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an “end of war” declaration, recognized President Gbagbo’s authority, and vowed to implement the LMA and disarm and demobilize both state and rebel militias under a program dubbed 

demobilization, disarmament, and reintegration (DDR).18

Despite these agreements, neither side proved willing to demobilize their militias, and ethnic and political tensions continued, characterized by political deadlocks and flare-ups of ethnic related violence by both sides. The United Nations replaced 

MINUCI with a full peacekeeping operation under the UN Operation in the Côte d’Ivoire (UNOCI) in February 2004. In March 

2004, state authorities suppressed anti-Gbagbo protests, leaving 200 people dead, and in May 2004, Gbagbo excluded three 

New Forces ministers from the government.19 The Acra III 

agreements of July 2004 reaffirmed goals of the LMA and DDR 

and set new deadlines for government reform and disarmament for the fall of 2004. Both sides again failed to meet these 

deadlines, and in November 2004 the simmering civil war 

erupted again when government forces broke the cease-fire 

with the northern rebel forces by attempting to break through 

the French and UN military line separating the two sides.20 The 

French military stopped the offensive and destroyed much of 

the small Ivorian air force after an air attack killed nine French 

peacekeepers. This action, in turn, ignited anti-French and 

anti-United Nations demonstrations in Abidjan, as well as a 

new round of ethnic-inspired attacks elsewhere in the South.

In April 2005, the African Union sponsored a mediation effort that resulted in the Pretoria Agreement. This agreement 

formally ended the civil war, further addressed demobilization, 

disarmament, and reintegration and the return of New Forces 

representation to the government, and set presidential elections for October 2005. In September 2005, President Gbagbo 

postponed the upcoming elections indefinitely saying a vote 

was impossible while the nation was divided and the rebellion 

still armed.21 Herein lies a serious dilemma that is proving very 

difficult to resolve as the rebels refuse to disarm until Gbagbo 

steps aside. Some headway has been made, however, as a new 

prime minister and cabinet were selected for the reconciliation 

government in December 2005, and elections were scheduled 

to take place no later than 31 October 2007.22
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Indicators of Impending Genocide

As a World Press reporter observed in January 2006, “The 

crisis in the Côte d’Ivoire bears a striking resemblance to events 

in Rwanda ten years ago. The world had better take notice.”23

Ethnic tension in a country does not necessarily equate to an 

impending genocide. However, factors such as ethnic polarization, xenophobic militias, government-condoned mob violence, 

and hate media—all fanned by a civil war—made the occurrence 

of genocide or mass killing in the Côte d’Ivoire highly probable. 

This same conclusion was expressed by observers from such 

expert groups as Minority Rights Group International, Genocide 

Watch, Prevent Genocide International, and the UN expert on 

genocide. This paper primarily draws upon the key indicators 

for genocide developed by a convention of the United Nations.

Minority Rights Group International employs a quantitative 

measuring system, based on current indicators from various 

authoritative sources, to identify groups or peoples most under 

threat of genocide or mass killings. In their report titled State of 

the World’s Minorities 2006, the Côte d’Ivoire was ranked 11th 

in the world for having peoples under threat. What made the 

situation extremely dangerous, according to the report, is the 

degree of ethnic polarization within the country and the prevalence of hate speech by political militias.24

Genocide Watch describes genocide as an eight-stage process. At the time of the 2002 attempted coup which triggered 

the civil war, Genocide Watch determined that the Côte d’Ivoire 

was in the sixth stage of genocide, which is the preparation 

stage—one stage before the actual execution of genocide.25 In 

his case study of the risk for genocide in the Côte d’Ivoire, written for Prevent Genocide International, Dr. Peter Stridsberg applied a genocide early warning risk model developed by the 

Center for International Development and Conflict Management’s State Failure Task Force. Stridsberg reported that out 

of six possible indicators of the model, the Côte d’Ivoire “seems 

to have at least 3, probably 4, of these risk indicators triggered and is thus a country at risk.”26 But he also noted that 

even if the risk-factor analysis results are not very clear, “the 

presence of 150,000 militias with racist ideology, weapons 

training and a history of ethnic purges by common sense 
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makes a greater threat than the little part it plays in one out 

of six of these indicators.”27

In October 2005, the UN Committee on the Elimination of 

Racial Discrimination (CERD) published a special set of indicators that suggest increased possibilities of violent conflict and 

genocide. The committee warns of a potential genocide where 

one or more of the following 15 indicators apply: 

• Lack of laws to prevent and remedy racial discrimination.

• Official denials of the existence of certain groups.

• Systematic exclusion of groups from positions of power.

• Use of identity cards indicating racial or other group 

identity.

• Grossly biased versions of history in school curricula.

• Forced removal of minority children for the purpose of assimilation.

• Segregation in such areas as schools and housing.

• Systematic hate speech, especially in the media.

• Racist statements by political and other leaders.

• Violence against minority groups prominent in business or 

government.

• Serious patterns of individual racist attacks.

• Militia or extremist groups with racist platforms.

• Large refugee flows or displacements of minority group 

members.

• Significant socioeconomic disparities among groups.

• Policies to block humanitarian assistance to vulnerable 

groups.28

In analyzing the crisis in the Côte d’Ivoire, several of the indicators developed by CERD seem to have been triggered to 

some degree. Six of these are discussed below.
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Systematic Exclusion of Groups 

from Positions of Power

After winning the 1995 presidential election, Bédié sent several hundred supporters of opposition parties to jail. Bédié repeated this tactic in 1999 as political opposition to his rule increased, imprisoning members of the RDR, the opposition party 

of the Muslim North. Bédié also ensured that many potential 

opponents were excluded from the country’s military forces. 

Members of the southern ethnic groups dominate the gendarmery, or national police force, as well as the government security force, the Sûreté Nationale.

29 Bédié sought to further exclude opponents groups from power by planning to introduce 

strict nationality rules before the scheduled 2000 elections that 

would ban both candidates and voters who had not been born 

in the Côte d’Ivoire.30

Systematic Hate Speech, 

Especially in the Media

The government used the media that it controls, particularly 

the state broadcaster, Radiodiffusion Télévision Ivoirienne (RTI 

or Ivorian Television Broadcasting), as a powerful tool in the 

country’s ongoing crisis. In late 2004, as government forces 

launched attacks on rebels to the north, progovernment militia 

forces stormed the RTI headquarters and installed a new director there. RTI soon filled the airwaves with what was described 

as “calls for hatred” by the Paris-based media watchdog group, 

Reporters without Borders, who condemned “the fall of state 

media into propaganda.”31 Other reports noted that “National 

television and radio has been broadcasting fervent, not to say 

feverish, messages calling on people to take to the streets,” 

adding that “sometimes there was a religious dimension to the 

speeches, which is particularly significant in a country split in 

two by a war that many have portrayed as a largely Christian 

south against the largely Muslim north.”32 The broadcasts reminded many observers of the role that Rwandan radio played 

in the genocide there in 1994, prompting UN special advisor on 

the prevention of genocide, Juan E. Mendez, to warn that “xenophobic hate speech could exacerbate already widespread violations of human rights, which in the recent past included extra-
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judicial killings, torture, disappearances and sexual violence.”33

In addition to using the media to convey their own messages, 

the government also banned or destroyed opposition newspapers 

in the South, as well as targeted rebel-operated radio stations 

in the North.

The murder of an Abidjan truck driver in November 2002, 

purportedly by security and pro-FPI police forces, had possible 

links to an article in the inflammatory state-sponsored newspaper L’Oeil du Peuple (Eye of the People). In the article, the paper 

published a list of people—with the driver’s name among them—

who had supposedly supported opposition to the government.34

Serious Patterns of Individual Racist Attacks

Mob violence following the October 2000 elections claimed 

over a hundred lives from both the FPI and RDR factions. It 

was after Gbagbo assumed power on October 26, however, that 

“state sponsored violence of the previous days intensified and 

developed a clear ethnic and religious focus. The primary perpetrators were paramilitary gendarmes and police. Numerous 

RDR supporters, primarily northern Muslims, were rounded 

up, tortured, and in many cases executed.”35

The failed coup of 19 September 2002 ignited a civil war that 

resulted in heightened levels of violence toward immigrants 

and their supporters. The town of Daloa produces one-fourth of 

the country’s cocoa and sits on the line separating the North 

from the South, with the population also being roughly split 

between ethnic lines. The town was taken over by the northern 

rebel forces shortly after the failed coup in 2002, with many of 

the ethnically Dioula youth from the Muslim North rallying behind these rebels. Government forces retook the town the next 

day, and within several days, as many as 100 rebel supporters 

were found brutally killed.36 In Monoko-Zohi, a village west of 

Daloa, the bodies of 120 villagers were found in a mass grave—

apparently victims of government soldiers who had gone house 

to house with lists of rebel sympathizers.37

In November 2004, Human Rights Watch reported that Muslims in Abidjan had been threatened and their houses ransacked while the police looked on.38 The violence has also been 

aimed at non-African immigrants in the Côte d’Ivoire. The 
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newspaper Jeune Afrique L’Intelligent (The Intelligent Young African) reported that in the midst of mob violence in November 

2004, “there were rapes and beatings, all part of a manifest 

desire to humiliate the ‘whites,’ whoever they were—French, 

Belgians, British, Lebanese—and perhaps a few murders.”39

Militia or Extremist Groups with 

Racist Platforms

Since 2000 the Ivorian government has increasingly relied 

upon progovernment militias for law enforcement, and since 

2002 to combat the rebellion. Government policy has in fact 

encouraged civilians to form self-defense committees and participate in security tasks. These civilian militia groups have 

played a prominent role in perpetrating abuses against civilians in the South, with near total impunity.40 There has also 

been a growth of urban tribal militias throughout the South 

who have access to arms and voice a violent discourse of “ethnic cleansing.”41

Ultranationalist “patriotic youth” groups linked to the ruling 

FPI party of President Gbagbo have also been organized into 

urban militias. These groups have supported government security forces in witch hunts against members of the opposition 

parties and those who support them. In 2005 the Fédération 

Estudiantine et Scolaire de Côte d’Ivoire (FESCI or the Côte 

d’Ivoire Student Federation), a progovernment student group, 

committed rape and torture against students perceived to be 

supporting the opposition. 42

Large Refugee Flows or Displacements 

of Minority Group Members

Soon after the failed coup attempt in September 2002, government security forces raided shantytowns in Abidjan, looking for weapons and rebels. The security forces burned down or 

demolished a number of these shantytowns, which were occupied by immigrants and Ivorians, displacing over 12,000 

people.43 According to Janine di Giovanni, a special correspondent for the Times of London, “the coup and the government 

response have displaced more than 220,000 people, and triggered a round of ethnic cleansing, largely targeted at northern-
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ers and foreigners—West Africans from other countries—who 

make up a quarter of the population. Shantytowns are razed. 

Every day, buses and planes are full of terrified residents who 

have lived here for generations, but cannot prove their Ivoirité, 

or ethnic purity.”44 Another figure estimates that since the beginning of the conflict 500,000 people have left the country, 

and another 750,000 have been displaced from their homes.45

Significant Socioeconomic Disparities among Groups 

Most of the Côte d’Ivoire’s development is in the southeast 

and coastal belt, so these areas enjoy greater economic advantages than the North and West. While some immigrants in the 

South have found work as office clerks, gardeners, cooks, and 

maids, the majority work as laborers in the cocoa fields.46 Falling cocoa prices in the late 1990s strongly affected cocoa farmers. 

The political and business elite of the South have benefited 

most economically from the civil war and have the most to lose 

in a democratic settlement of the crisis. Business interests are 

protected by both the government and the militias that support 

the government. Leaders of the “Young Patriots” militia groups, 

made up of otherwise unemployed youth, are said to receive as 

much as $80,000 a month from the presidential coffers.47

The six CERD indicators discussed above, along with the 

analyses of experts in the field of genocide previously mentioned, make a strong case that the Côte d’Ivoire had been and 

remains at risk of genocide. The main reason that this did not 

happened was effective and timely international intervention. 

International Response

It was the popular unrest, mob violence, and eruption of civil 

war following the failed coup of September 2002 that finally 

brought an international response to the crisis in the Côte 

d’Ivoire. The first international responder was France, which 

already had a significant presence in the country, including a 

small military force. The French forces were soon joined by 

forces from the ECOWAS. Eventually the United Nations joined 

in the intervention efforts. 
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The Role of France

As the country’s former colonial ruler, France still has significant economic interests in the Côte d’Ivoire and remains its 

single most important foreign partner.48 There had been a large 

community of French citizens and expatriates living and working there, at least until the violence and anti-French sentiment 

of the last several years caused many to leave. The economic 

ties between the two countries, however, may be of less importance to France than the role of the Côte d’Ivoire as the linchpin of the French African commonwealth. The fear is that as 

the country crumbles, forcing the French who run much of its 

commerce to flee, “France’s African commonwealth will disintegrate and with it, much that is left of France’s role as a great 

international power.”49 Whatever the motive, France has played 

a major peacekeeping role in the Côte d’Ivoire since late 2002. 

France was well positioned to intervene militarily, as it has 

had a detachment of marines garrisoned in the Côte d’Ivoire 

since 1961 under a mutual defense accord. Despite this, France 

chose not to intervene during the violence surrounding the 

2000 election, aside from warning that neither it, nor the European Union would accept General Guéï’s retention of power. 

France also rejected suggestions that it station additional 

troops in the country except for the purpose of protecting 

French nationals. This stance changed with the violence of the 

fall of 2002, when France sent hundreds of additional troops to 

augment the approximately 500 already stationed there to assist in evacuating foreign nationals and provide logistical support to government military forces.50 The French role gradually 

expanded into peacekeeping and by January 2003 France had 

established Operation Licorne, a security force of approximately 

4,000 troops. These ground forces in country are supported by 

air detachments consisting of 17 helicopters, which are used 

for both antitank and transport, and two C-160 Transall aircraft, used for transport.51 The primary mission of Licorne has 

been to hold the east-west cease-fire line between government 

and rebel forces, preventing either side from advancing. 

In November 2004, an aircraft of the Ivorian government 

forces bombed a French military installation in Bouaké during 

an offensive strike against rebel targets in the North. Nine 
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French peacekeeping soldiers were killed. French forces retaliated by destroying most of the small Ivorian air force on the 

ground. French support of the Ivorian government gradually 

changed to a stance of impartiality and is now perceived by 

many in the South as being in favor of the rebel forces. This has 

caused resentment, demonstrations, and violence against 

French expatriates and forces in the South. Any loss of effectiveness of Operation Licorne due to anti-French sentiment 

among portions of the population was mitigated by the arrival 

of West African peacekeepers from ECOWAS. 

The Role of ECOWAS

In January 2003, the Economic Community of West African 

States placed approximately 1,500 peacekeeping troops on 

the ground beside the French force. The rapid deployment of 

the force, made up of soldiers from five African nations, 

marked what may have been the first time that the international community and Africans had worked together effectively in the resolution of a conflict.52 The force, known as the 

ECOWAS Mission in the Côte d’Ivoire (ECOMICI), was hampered by several limitations but overall contributed significantly to the success of the peace process. 

A significant limitation of the ECOMICI force was its high 

level of dependence on international support. France provided 

transport, uniforms, food, and pay. The United States provided 

communications equipment and vehicles, which enabled ECOMICI 

peacekeepers to patrol the zone of confidence that separates 

the rebel and government forces.53 ECOMICI also struggled 

with leadership issues and did not have an effective command 

structure to issue directives or provide guidance. 

The strength of the ECOMICI force was the fact that the West 

African troops shared a common background and had knowledge of the host nation. Many members of the force had visited 

the Côte d’Ivoire previously. ECOWAS had the human resources 

available to respond to the crisis and their personnel had received prior training to support peacekeeping operations. Most 

importantly, the impartial ECOMICI force maintained permanent liaison with belligerents on both sides. Finally, the ECOMICI 

troops worked well with the French forces, complementing Op-
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eration Licorne in a successful “hybrid operation.” One year 

after ECOMICI was established, the 1,500-member peacekeeping force was absorbed into a larger UN peacekeeping operation 

with the establishment of the UN Operation in the Côte d’Ivoire 

in February 2004.54

The Role of the United Nations

In order to facilitate the implementation of the LMA, the 

United Nations established the MINUCI through Security Council 

Resolution 1479 of 13 May 2003. MINUCI, consisting of a 75-

member military liaison group and small civilian staff, was 

tasked with monitoring the military situation; building trust 

between Ivorian government and the New Forces; and providing input on disengagement, disarmament, and demobilization. 

The UN military observers were deployed in the field alongside 

the French Licorne and ECOWAS forces, but all three of these 

groups continued to operate under different mandates. This 

posed challenges such as questions about the accountability of 

the Licorne force and ECOWAS shortages in manpower, equipment, and logistical support.55

By early 2004, it was evident that little progress had been 

made in implementing the LMA. In response to the continuing 

threat that the situation in the Côte d’Ivoire posed to peace and 

security in the region, the Security Council established the 

UNOCI by Resolution 1528 of 27 February 2004. Established 

under chapter 7 of the UN charter, this operation both continued and significantly expanded the functions of MINUCI, which 

had been essentially a political mission. It also took over from 

ECOMICI, rehatting the West African troops as UN peacekeepers. This UN force, which would deploy throughout the territory 

of the Côte d’Ivoire, would continue to work alongside French 

forces. Both the UN troops and the French Licorne forces were 

authorized to use all necessary means, including force, to carry 

out their mandates. 

The UNOCI mission has been further developed by several 

additional Security Council resolutions. Resolution 1572, 

passed after government forces violated the cease-fire in November 2004 with ground and air offensives against rebel positions in the North, established an arms embargo for both sides 
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and sought to stop the effects of hate media by demanding that 

Ivorian authorities stop radio and television broadcasting of 

hate messages.56 Resolution 1609, adopted on 24 June 2005, 

mandated that UNOCI and French forces observe and monitor 

the implementation of an April 2005 joint “end of war” declaration, prevent hostile action, and investigate violations of the 

cease-fire. It continued with the elements for disarming and 

dismantling of militias of the MINUCI mandate and added: assisting a government of national reconciliation in monitoring 

borders, with particular attention to cross-border movement of 

combatants; monitoring the arms embargo; providing support 

for humanitarian assistance and assistance in the field of human rights; facilitating the reestablishment of a government of 

national reconciliation; and supporting free elections.

The UN role has been a proactive one. To combat the effects 

of hate radio, UN peacekeepers launched their own radio station, ONUCI FM (Opération des Nations Unies en Côte d’Ivoire

frequency modulated radio), in August 2004. Initially available 

in Abidjan, the station has extended its coverage to rebel-held 

towns in the North.57 In February 2006, the UN Security Council 

imposed sanctions against three leaders whom the United Nations deemed as posing obstacles to the peacekeeping force and 

sabotaging the peace process: Blé Goude, the leader of the 

Young Patriots; another Young Patriots leader; and a northern 

rebel leader who, according to the United Nations, has committed gross human rights violations.58 The sanctions were imposed as a result of January 2006 violence aimed at United 

Nations peacekeepers in the country. The message being sent 

is that violence will not be tolerated. As of September 2006, 

there are over 7,000 military personnel, 900 police officers, and 

800 plus civilians authorized by the UNOCI mandate.59

Observations

The events within the Côte d’Ivoire and the international response they have generated lead to some notable observations. 

The first of these is that genocide, or at least an environment 

that can lead to genocide, can occur even within reasonably 

successful states with democratic governments. The second and 

more important point is that the situation in the Côte d’Ivoire 
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proves that genocide can be successfully averted through active intervention by unilateral, regional, or international entities. 

For 30 years, the Côte d’Ivoire, as a state, enjoyed success, 

peace, and stability that were unparalleled in the region or in 

most of Africa. In little more than a decade, the country spiraled downwards and was on the brink of becoming a humanitarian nightmare. The root causes are fairly clear, the first being a long, slow economic decline caused by mismanagement 

and lack of diversification of the country’s agriculture-based 

economy. But this alone would not be nearly enough to spawn 

genocide conditions. For this to occur, it took the second root 

cause, which was a succession of opportunistic political leaders who politicized religious and ethnic differences.60 These 

leaders used the xenophobic notion of Ivoirité to create discriminatory policies and build ethnically based hatred among 

large portions of the population for the sake of maintaining 

their hold on power. All of this happened in a country that was 

still under a democratic government. While it is impossible to 

prove that the Côte d’Ivoire would have continued down a genocidal path, it can be said with certainty that enough warning 

signs existed to conclude that the country was vulnerable to 

and at risk of genocide.

Economic instability within the Côte d’Ivoire still exists and 

must be addressed. This, however, most likely will not be fully 

possible until the primary cause, that of the continued illegitimate hold on power by the present government is addressed. 

To move forward, a true representative government must be 

established through a free and fair electoral process. 

A key enabler toward the development of genocide is the use 

of hate media by potential perpetrators of genocide. All media 

that promulgate messages of hate or incite violence against targeted groups must be curtailed. The situation in Rwanda in 

1994 offers grim proof of the powerful role that media can have 

in the incitement and propagation of hatred and mass killing. 

The United Nations and regional or other international entities 

need to recognize when the media are being used in this role 

and act quickly to intervene. Hate media in the Côte d’Ivoire 

were addressed specifically in UN Resolution 1572, which demanded that Ivorian authorities stop all radio and television 

broadcasting inciting hatred, intolerance, and violence, and re-
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quested that the UNOCI strengthen its monitoring role in that 

regard.61 A fundamental point to take from this is that information operations should be a key planning consideration in any 

genocide-related intervention effort.

The second point to be made by this case study is that a 

highly probable genocide was averted through an effective combination of a nation acting alone, regional or subregional organizations, and a major operation by an international organization. France, acting largely unilaterally, played a critical role in 

preventing genocide in the Côte d’Ivoire. The ECOMICI force 

represents the promising potential of the roles that subregional 

organizations such as ECOWAS can play in intervention efforts. The continuing success of the UNOCI demonstrates that 

the United Nations or other international organizations can be 

very effective in preventing genocide.

The quick and effective response by France in the Côte d’Ivoire 

crisis proved that a state acting on its own can have significant 

effects. France was already on the scene in the Côte d’Ivoire with 

a long-standing presence of French citizens, expatriates, and a 

small military force. Rather than abandoning the Côte d’Ivoire as 

tensions and violence escalated, France took a lead role in containing and resolving the conflict. The deaths of nine peacekeepers and threats and violence aimed at French citizens strengthened France’s resolve rather than causing it to cut losses and 

leave like the Belgians did in Rwanda. The effect that French 

forces had was described by the French minister of defense, 

Michele Alliot-Marie, in a November 2004 press conference: “It is 

clear that, by intervening in September 2002 and in the following months, we avoided the kind of massacres that took place in 

Rwanda.”62 Challenges in acting unilaterally do exist. France, as 

a former colonial ruler with strong ties to the existing government, has had a hard time remaining impartial. When French 

support eventually broke from the Ivorian government to assist 

the peace-building process and stop humanitarian abuses, the 

result was a feeling of betrayal by progovernment supporters 

and a backlash against French peacekeepers and citizens. 

The involvement by ECOWAS in the Côte d’Ivoire proves that 

regional or subregional bodies can be quite effective in preventing genocide. Regional organizations may be the best source of 

resources to monitor, mediate, and respond to crises which 
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120

have the potential to develop into mass killing or genocide. To 

be able to do this, they must continue to develop the will, organizations, and resources to accomplish such aims. The international community needs to encourage, empower, and resource such regional and subregional organizations so that 

they can develop, train, and maintain crisis reaction and intervention forces. One such example is the ECOWAS rapid reaction force.

ECOWAS has agreed to establish a standby unit of 6,500 

highly trained and equipped peacekeeping soldiers that can be 

deployed rapidly to respond to a crisis or threat to regional security. These units will be used to form a rapid-reaction task 

force of 1,500 soldiers who can deploy within 30 days and be 

augmented within 90 days by an additional 3,500 soldiers to 

form a peacekeeping brigade. The formation of this force, which 

is due to begin training this year, is a result of ECOWAS’s experiences in Liberia, Sierra Leon, and the Côte d’Ivoire.63

The Côte d’Ivoire example also proves that an international 

organization can be highly effective in preventing genocide. After demonstrating an inability or unwillingness to intervene in 

Rwanda and other places, the United Nations finally proved 

that it can be effective in preventing genocide through the 

UNOCI. The UNOCI is an example of how successful a UN operation can be when given the right direction and resources by 

a cooperative and determined Security Council. The UNOCI is 

“part of an emerging trend in UN peacekeeping in which the UN 

force is actually a hybrid of two or three different peace operations that are subsumed under—or operate in tandem with—

the United Nations. Three key words underline the UNOCI mission. These are transformation [of the ECOWAS forces], 

absorption [of MINUCI], and cohabitation [with the French 

forces]. The success of the UNOCI mission will depend on how 

well these three factors play out.”64 The United Nations and 

other international bodies such as NATO will hopefully use the 

success of the UNOCI as a model from which to build upon for 

future interventions in other conflicts. 

The UNOCI is a good indication of the significant progress 

that the United Nations has made since the events in Rwanda 

in 1994 toward responding to situations that are heading towards genocide. Another notable step has been Sec-Gen Kofi 
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Annan’s designation of a UN special adviser on the prevention 

of genocide in July 2004. Juan E. Mendez was appointed to the 

role, which is to “act as an early-warning mechanism to the 

Secretary-General and the Security Council about potential 

situations that could develop into genocide, and to make recommendations to the Council about how the United Nations 

can prevent these events.”65

Implications for Future US Intervention

The United States played a small role in the intervention in 

the Côte d’Ivoire. This is not to say that the United States should 

not learn from these events and be prepared to act in future, 

similar situations. As the world’s sole superpower, the United 

States wields considerable influence, power, and resources to 

help in identifying and preventing genocides. The 2006 National 

Security Strategy specifically addresses the need to ensure intervention in such instances and recognizes the important role 

that the nation plays, stating, “It is a moral imperative that 

states take action to prevent and punish genocide. History 

teaches that sometimes other states will not act unless America 

does its part.”66

This is not to say that the United States should feel an obligation to commit military forces to every conflict that has the 

potential for genocide. The United States can generate considerable effects without placing US peacekeepers in harm’s way 

by using political, diplomatic, and economic instruments to either influence the root causes or pressure the groups or governments responsible for promoting genocide. The United States 

should use its muscle in the UN Security Council to ensure 

that conflicts that show even the most preliminary indicators of 

a genocide or mass killing get the attention and intervention 

necessary to diffuse the situation and protect groups at risk. 

The root causes and enablers of these type conflicts must be 

identified and addressed. Without removing these causes, intervention will likely remain primarily a peacekeeping effort. In 

the Côte d’Ivoire situation, economic factors played a large role 

in the development of a situation that could easily lead to genocide. The United States can use its economic and informational 

tools to help restore the economies of countries such as the 
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122

Côte d’Ivoire through assistance programs and development of 

new US markets. In addition to helping a state in crisis regain 

its own stability, the United States can and should make such 

efforts as supplying funds and other resources to the international or subregional actors that can effectively intervene. 

Shortly after ECOWAS forces deployed to the Côte d’Ivoire, the 

United States contributed $1.5 million in contractor and logistical support. This support was primarily in the areas of communication and transportation and included trucks, jeeps, and 

other vehicles.67 At a relatively small cost, the US government 

was able to provide a significant increase in transportation and 

communication resources available to the West African peacekeeping force. Another major resource that the United States 

can provide is airpower. 

Joint or Air Force doctrine does not specifically address 

inter­vention in genocide-related conflicts. Missions under the 

umbrellas of crisis response, peace enforcement, or foreign 

humanitarian assistance are close enough to be applicable. 

Air Force support capabilities for such missions, as listed in 

Joint Publication (JP) 3-07.3, include airlift; intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance; command and control of air 

operations; communications and information gathering; aerial refueling; personnel recovery; air traffic control support; 

joint fire support; combat air patrol; airspace control; early 

warning of hostile actions; delivery of humanitarian aid; aeromedical evacuation; deterrence of hostile actions; protection; 

logistics; and resupply.68

A primary area in which US airpower can contribute is by 

providing logistical and air mobility support to troop-contributing 

nations. A large constraint affecting the capabilities of the 

ECOWAS force responding to the Côte d’Ivoire or other West 

African crises was the lack of air transport, which is virtually 

nil within the armed forces of the region.69 The United States 

can fill this critical void by supplying air assets or training and 

equipping regional forces. 

US air and space assets can provide critical ISR capability to 

help recognize acts and identify conditions leading to genocide. 

Potential perpetrators of humanitarian abuses might be dissuaded 

if they know that they are being monitored from above. Air assets can be used in information operations to warn potential 
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victims, dissuade perpetrators, or counter hate media. Should 

deterrence measures fail, tactical aircraft could be used for precision strikes to disrupt those who are perpetrating violence. 

Finally, the United States and other leading nations within 

the international community should continue to encourage 

and assist in the development of regional or subregional crisis 

response capabilities. Security and defense policies, such as 

France’s renforcement des capacites Africaines de maintien de 

la paix (RECAMP or reinforcement of African peacekeeping capabilities) and the US government’s Africa contingency operations training assistance (or ACOTA) program, will help African 

states, under the umbrella of subregional organizations to acquire military capabilities to help them conduct peacekeeping 

operations.70

Conclusion

The 2002–03 crisis in the Côte d’Ivoire exhibited numerous 

indicators that warned of a high potential for genocidal violence. 

Fortunately, intervention efforts by France, ECOWAS, and the 

United Nations were both timely and effective in preventing 

such an occurrence. Operations within the Côte d’Ivoire should 

serve as model from which to build for future international intervention efforts.

From Kosovo to Rwanda to the Sudan, the pledge of “ ‘never 

again’ has turned into ‘again and again.’ Again and again, the 

response to genocide has been too little too late.”71 No longer 

can the world afford to allow genocides to unfold by either turning a collective blind eye, or choosing not to act in a timely 

manner. Because the causes of genocides vary widely, and fully 

predicting the occurrence of such may be impossible, early 

warning signs should be heeded with the worst case assumed. 

When such situations arise, the international community 

should respond quickly, decisively, and effectively. Such involvement can be accomplished unilaterally, by international 

organizations such as NATO or the United Nations, or by regional or subregional bodies. As seen in the Côte d’Ivoire, the 

most successful interventions will likely require a combination 

of these means. 
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124

Notes

1. Gregston, “Rwanda Syndrome on the Ivory Coast.”

2. Jane’s SENTINEL Security Assessment: West Africa, 125.

3. While many English language sources persist on using the name Ivory 

Coast, since 1986 the Côte d’Ivoire has requested that the French form of the 

country’s name be used in all languages. The author will therefore use the 

Côte d’Ivoire except in quotations.

4. International Crisis Group, “Conflict History.” Figures for the distribution of religions vary by source. Jane’s figures are: 22 percent Catholic, 5.5 

percent Protestant (27.5 percent Christian), 38 percent Muslim, 17 percent 

Animist, and 17.5 percent other. Jane’s SENTINEL Security Assessment: West 

Africa, 120.

5. International Crisis Group, “Conflict History.”

6. Chirot, “Chaos in Ivory Coast.”

7. Ibid., 2.

8. Stridsberg, “Cote d’Ivoire, Historical Background.”

9. Thibodeaux, “Ivory Coast Fears a Wider War.”

10. Jane’s SENTINEL Security Assessment: West Africa, 106.

11. Chirot, “Chaos in Ivory Coast.”

12. Gberie and Addo, Challenges of Peace Implementation in Cote d’Ivoire.

13. International Crisis Group, “Conflict History.”

14. Human Rights Watch, “Cote d’Ivoire.”

15. Gberie and Addo, Challenges of Peace Implementation in Cote d’Ivoire.

16. Stridsberg, “Cote d’Ivoire, Historical Background.”

17. Bureau of African Affairs, “Background Note.”

18. Ibid.

19. International Crisis Group, “Conflict History.”

20. Chirot, “Chaos in Ivory Coast.”

21. Merrill, “Citizen Soldiers.”

22. UN Security Council Resolution (UNSCR) 1721.

23. Gregston, “Rwanda Syndrome on the Ivory Coast.”

24. Lattimer, “Peoples under Threat,” 12–13.

25. Stridsberg, “Cote d’Ivoire, Historical Background.”

26. Ibid. Stridsberg says that this model, presented at the Stockholm International Forum 2004, is perhaps the most successful genocide early warning 

system so far, successfully predicting 79 percent of historical genocide based 

on a risk factor analysis. Information on the model can be found in Goldstone, 

State Failure Task Force Report. http://www.cidcm.umd.edu/publications/

papers/SFTF%20Phase%20III%20Report%20Final.pdf.

27. Stridsberg, “Cote d’Ivoire, Historical Background.”

28. United Nations, “Decision on Follow-up to the Declaration on the Prevention of Genocide.”

29. “Cote d’Ivoire Country Report,” 10.

30. “Conflict Country Briefings: Cote d’Ivoire,” European Defense, 5.

31. British Broadcasting Corporation, “Country Profile: Ivory Coast.”

32. Gregston, “Rwanda Syndrome on the Ivory Coast.”
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CÔTE D’IVOIRE

33. Ibid.

34. di Giovanni, “Terror and Ethnic Cleansing in Ivory Coast.”

35. Human Rights Watch, “Cote d’Ivoire: The Human Rights Costs.”

36. di Giovanni, “Terror and Ethnic Cleansing in Ivory Coast.”4.

37. “Crisis in Cote d’Ivoire,” Genocide Watch.

38. Gregston, “Rwanda Syndrome on the Ivory Coast.”

39. Ibid.

40. Human Rights Watch, “Cote d’Ivoire.”

41. International Crisis Group, “Côte d’Ivoire: The War Is Not Yet Over.”

42. Human Rights Watch, “Cote d’Ivoire.”

43. Bureau of African Affairs, “Background Note.”

44. di Giovanni, “Terror and Ethnic Cleansing in Ivory Coast.”

45. Stridsberg, “Cote d’Ivoire, Historical Background.”

46. Thibodeaux, “Ivory Coast Fears a Wider War.”

47. International Crisis Group, “Cote d’Ivoire: No Peace in Sight.”

48. Bureau of African Affairs, “Background Note.”

49. Chirot, “Chaos in Ivory Coast.”

50. Ibid.

51. “Conflict Country Briefings: Cote d’Ivoire,” European Defense, 4.

52. Itano, “Next Door, Lessons for Liberia.”

53. Ibid.

54. Gberie and Addo, Challenges of Peace Implementation in Cote d’Ivoire.

55. Ibid.

56. UNOCI, “Côte d’Ivoire-UNOCI-Mandate.”

57. British Broadcasting Corporation, “Country Profile: Ivory Coast.”

58. Bax, “Too Little, too late? UN Sanctions in Ivory Coast.”

59. UNOCI, “Facts and Figures.”

60. Statement of Timothy Docking, PhD.

61. UNSCR 1572.

62. Gregston, “Rwanda Syndrome on the Ivory Coast.”

63. “ECOWAS [Economic Community of West African States] ‘Rapid Reaction Force,’ ” Africa Research Bulletin.

64. Gberie and Addo, Challenges of Peace Implementation in Cote d’Ivoire.

65. United Nations. “Annan Chooses Former Political Prisoner.”

66. The White House, National Security Strategy of the United States, 

2006.

67. Statement of the Honorable Walter H. Kansteiner III.

68. Joint Doctrine Publication 3-07.3 Peace Operations, Figure II-2 Air 

Support Capabilities, II-4.

69. “ECOWAS [Economic Community of West African States] ‘Rapid Reaction Force,’ ” Africa Research Bulletin.

70. Ibid.

71. “The International Campaign to End Genocide,” GenocideWatch.org.

127

Conclusion

Dr. Douglas C. Peifer

Genocide scholars, journalists, and activists have contributed 

substantially to understanding the causes and conduct of 

genocide and to alerting the public and policy makers of potential and ongoing genocidal crises. Where they have fallen short 

is in providing concrete, operational advice on how intervention 

forces can stop mass killing and what sort of capabilities intervening forces must have in order to accomplish that mission. 

Those tasked with stopping genocide soon discover that no 

doctrine exists for genocide intervention, since genocide intervention falls neither in the realm of peacekeeping nor within 

the realm of war fighting. Models, recommendations, and best 

practices for uncontested humanitarian interventions and 

peacekeeping are not useful as guides to stopping the deliberate, organized killing of one group by another. War-fighting 

doctrines are unsuitable because intervening forces, whether 

UN, regional, or US, seek to avoid becoming belligerents if possible. Support for intervention missions will be extremely limited if put in terms of making war for humanitarian purposes. 

The closest framework is the concept of “peace-enforcement 

operations.” Even here, doctrinal guidance is unhelpful, if not 

misleading. The JP 3-07.3, Peace Operations, maintains that 

peace operation forces (termed PO forces in the joint publication) must still act impartially even when conducting peaceenforcement operations. The publication blandly instructs intervening forces to restore order and forcibly separate belligerent 

parties while using restraint and minimum force. How this is to 

be done remains unclear. Military commanders must anticipate that genocide-intervention missions will pose particular 

challenges in that intervention forces should not treat killers 

and victims impartially. Furthermore, restoring order may involve removing civil authorities rather than supporting and reinstating them, as suggested by JP 3-07.3.

The preceding case studies provide a sense of the challenges 

and possibilities for genocide-intervention missions, drawing 

upon specific historical examples rather than contrived generic 
CONCLUSION

128

scenarios or the ongoing, evolving emergency in Darfur. Each 

case study seeks to provide a sense of specific context, with the 

first study focusing on Somalia in 1992–93, the second and 

third, Rwanda during the spring of 1994, and the last, the Côte 

d’Ivoire during the period 2002–05. The case studies provide 

overviews of the causes, conduct, and contours of genocide 

within these particular settings, with specific analyses as to 

whether and how intervention might have been more effective. 

In each case, the authors caution that prevention is preferable 

to intervention, but assert that if intervention becomes necessary, airpower can contribute to mission success. 

Aaron Steffens provides a set of strategic and operational lessons 

for intervention operations based on his analysis of UNOSOM, 

UNITAF, and UNISOM II missions in Somalia in the early 1990s. 

At the strategic level, Steffens argues that prevention would 

have been much less costly than intervention and that there 

were at least three clear opportunities “prior to the formation of 

UNOSOM I where US leadership and UN involvement might 

have mitigated the Somali crisis.” He argues that early intervention is always better than crisis intervention and notes that 

setting time limits to these missions, while popular with both 

the public and military desirous of clear “exit strategies,” can 

undermine the prospects for success.

At the operational level, Steffens cautions that in complex 

contingency operations, one cannot artificially separate humanitarian intervention from nation building. In Somalia famine 

and mass starvation could not be addressed merely by airlifting food and supplies into the country. The deliberate manipulation of food supplies by militias and clan factions had to be 

stopped. Steffens argues that nation building, in the forms of 

political reconstruction, demobilization, and disarmament, was 

a precondition for success. Even at the operational level, there 

is need to tightly integrate and unify diplomatic, military, and 

humanitarian efforts. 

This will prove challenging. Steffens and the other authors 

recommend that regional organizations provide the manpower 

for intervention efforts, with the US focusing on airlift and logistical support. As for the utility of coercive airpower, Steffens 

issues a warning: in Somalia, the use of AC-130 gunships “sig-
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CONCLUSION

naled a departure from coercion to blunt-force attack, and it 

represented a declaration of war.” 

George Stanley and Keith Reeves examine the failure to intervene in Rwanda in 1994 and provide assessments of whether 

and how intervention might have prevented genocide. Stanley 

notes that a Carnegie Commission panel concluded that “a 

modern force of 5000 troops, drawn primarily from a single 

contributing country, and inserted between April 7th and 21st 

could have significantly altered the outcome.”1 While not contesting this assessment, Stanley notes that the risk level would 

not have been low, and that military planners could not have 

assumed a passive environment for intervention. The French 

intervention operation of summer 1994 (Operation Turquoise) 

encountered little opposition in part because it avoided injecting French troops into the maelstrom of an ongoing genocide, 

and did more to assuage the moral sensibilities of the French 

public after the genocide had run its course than it did to stop 

the killings. 

While warning that intervention carried more risk than many 

contend and echoing Alan Kuperman’s contention that a 7–21 

April intervention time frame was unrealistic, Stanley asserts 

that “any intervention would have likely saved thousands of 

Tutsi lives.” Had the political will existed, an intervention might 

have been possible, with airpower playing a central role. Rapid 

intervention hinges on airlift, and only a few nations possess 

the sort of strategic airlift that would have enabled rapid intervention. Yet beyond airlift, airpower could have played an important role in impeding the Rwandan genocide. Stanley notes 

that RTL radio played a key role in instigating and guiding 

Rwanda’s killers. Its broadcasts could have been disrupted by 

deploying an EC-130 Commando Solo aircraft, clearly sending 

a signal that genocide would not be tolerated and complicating 

the efforts of the genocidaires. Furthermore, reconnaissance 

aircraft could have been deployed to locate roadblocks and disseminate warnings. While not available at that time, the MQ-1 

Predator now provides the reconnaissance capabilities that can 

be deployed into nonpassive environments without risk to intervening or monitoring forces. As a last resort, Stanley notes 

that aircraft could have been used to directly attack roadblocks 

manned by militias, though collateral damage in the form of 
CONCLUSION

130

civilian casualties would have been the price of directly applying firepower to dismantle checkpoints. 

Keith Reeves applies airpower theory to examine genocide as 

a system, to identify the system’s critical vulnerabilities and connections, and to construct a model for rapid genocide intervention or RGI. Much as students and instructors at the Air Corps 

Tactical School in the 1930s sought to uncover the vulnerabilities of modern warfare by examining the industrial web that 

generated and supported it, so Reeves seeks to find the organizational connections that sustain genocide. He argues that the 

Rwandan genocide, far from being a primitive, spontaneous, and 

poorly orchestrated expression of hate, was instead a complex, 

highly organized effort sustained by a network connecting political actors, civil authorities, the Rwandan armed forces, and 

militias such as the interahamwe and impuzamugambi. Applying more recent airpower theory that postulates that one can 

cause the strategic paralysis of an enemy by applying rapid, simultaneous, and parallel attacks on the components of the enemy’s military system, Reeves argues that one should consider 

this approach to genocide. His concept of RGI envisions disrupting ongoing genocide by targeting the connections between the 

supporting components of the genocide machinery. Reeves notes 

that disrupting genocide is only an interim solution, but argues 

that a rapid, short-term response buys time and saves lives so 

that longer-term responses can be generated. 

Reeves’ concept of rapid genocide intervention rests on three 

pillars: broad resolve, timely intelligence, and rapid reaction. In 

keeping with the book’s focus on operational responses, Reeves 

provides little detail about how to generate the sort of broad 

international resolve necessary for rapid, timely, and effective 

responses to genocide. Instead, he focuses on the other two 

elements of RGI, timely intelligence and rapid reaction. Reeves 

notes that at the strategic level, nongovernmental organizations such as Human Rights Watch and Genocide Watch already are providing alerts, watches, and warnings of impending mass killings. National and international agencies can act 

on these alerts and gather additional assessments of conditions on the ground. At the operational level, Reeves notes that 

reconnaissance aircraft and UAVs could provide more detailed 

information, monitoring conditions, and providing timely intel-
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CONCLUSION

ligence of where and how mass killings are taking place. The 

third element of his concept, rapid reaction, rests on airlift and 

air mobility. Reeves’ ideal force for RGI would be regional in 

composition, with the United States and/or NATO providing air 

assets ranging from strategic and tactical airlift assets to helicopters and reconnaissance craft to UAVs. 

The final case study of the volume, Timothy Boyer’s examination of the Côte d’Ivoire during the period 2002–05, analyzes a 

case of successful genocide prevention. Boyer notes that by 

2002, the Côte d’Ivoire was at stage six (preparation) of the Stanton genocide model. The Ivorian state showed numerous signs of 

impending failure and exhibited almost all CERD indicators of 

potential genocide. According to Boyer, “A highly probable genocide was averted through an effective combination of a nation 

acting unilaterally [France], regional or subregional organizations [ECOWAS], and a major operation by an international organization [UNOCI].” While less theoretical than Reeves’ case 

study, Boyer provides an example of the sort of assets and capabilities that stopped an impending genocide. The French intervention (Operation Licorne) was fairly robust, consisting of some 

4,000 troops, an air detachment of 17 helicopters, and two C160 Transall aircraft. Most interestingly, UNOCI set up its own 

radio station so it could communicate the mission of its 8,000 

uniformed personnel directly to the local population. 

Boyer concludes that Operation Licorne and regional and international intervention efforts provide valuable models for addressing the threat of imminent genocide. While direct US involvement was minimal, US diplomatic and economic support 

of ECOWAS and later UNOCI forces was important, helping to 

fund trucks, jeeps, and communication equipment. French airpower, both in the form of airlift and in the form of helicopters, 

served as a vital enabler of Operation Licorne, with the French 

mission working closely with UNOCI in damping down violence. 

The case studies show that specific context matters and caution that prevention is less costly and more effective than intervention. Yet in seeking operational solutions to stopping ongoing mass killings, each case study posits that airpower might 

have played a valuable role beyond simply transporting and 

sustaining peacekeeping troops. Given that the US Air Force 

has devoted little thought to genocide intervention, perhaps it 
CONCLUSION

132

is fitting to summarize and explore airpower’s capabilities in 

this realm. Airpower alone cannot stop ongoing genocides, but 

it can support and assist intervention efforts in ways overlooked. This is especially important in that the US public has a 

limited appetite for sustained nation building, and the notion 

of deploying significant numbers of US ground troops to Darfur, the Congo, and other crises areas is unrealistic given current overstretch and competing commitments in Iraq and Afghanistan. Rather than focusing on operational responses that 

call for US “boots on the ground,” a better US strategy for genocide intervention would be to support regional or UN forces 

through the small US expeditionary forces providing key enabling capabilities. Regional and UN peace-enforcement missions tend to be weakest precisely in those areas where the 

United States and its Air Force excel: strategic airlift and theater 

mobility, communications, ISR, medical evacuation (MEDEVAC) 

and emergency care, radio suppression and broadcasting, and 

(as a last resort) coercive airpower.

The US Air Force already has the organizational construct to 

provide an expeditionary force that could support and assist 

regional or UN intervention ground forces engaged in genocide 

intervention and peace enforcement. In 1998 then chief of staff 

of the US Air Force, Gen Michael Ryan, and acting secretary of 

the Air Force, F. Whitten Peters, launched a reorganization of 

the Air Force for the very purpose of generating enhanced capability to deploy and sustain air and space expeditionary task 

forces (AETF). These task forces, ranging in size from wings to 

groups to squadrons, each have built-in command, control, 

and staff support structures and are fully tailorable forces.2

The Air Force has emphasized that all personnel and assets 

should fall within the framework of this expeditionary construct. While task forces deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan have 

focused on supporting US, NATO, and coalition war fighters, 

the concept of organizing an AETF with the sort of capabilities 

that lend themselves to supporting non-US regional forces or 

UN operations is entirely reasonable.

Devising genocide intervention strategies and operational 

concepts will be highly contextual. The concept of safe havens, 

for example, was appropriate for Kurdish Iraq, problematic in 

Bosnia, and inappropriate in Rwanda, where Tutsis intermin-
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CONCLUSION

gled with Hutus and roadblocks impeded movement.3 Likewise, 

imposing “no-fly zones” depends on local conditions: a no-fly 

zone might have protected Shiites in southern Iraq from Saddam’s ruthless post–Desert Storm subjugation campaign in 

which Iraqi helicopters played a crucial role, yet even a massive 

Allied air presence over Kosovo in 1999 could not stop Serbian 

ground forces from terrorizing and expelling Kosovar civilians. 

Rather than focusing on devising detailed operational plans for 

stopping genocide, the United States should focus on developing small expeditionary task forces that provide regional and 

international organizations with capabilities they sorely lack. 

Some of these key capabilities follow.

Strategic and Theater Air 

Mobility and Airlift Support

The US Air Force clearly understands the importance of strategic airlift in genocide intervention operations and already directly contributes to African Union operations in Darfur by 

transporting and supplying various contingents. Since 2003, 

for example, the 786th Expeditionary Squadron operating out 

of Ramstein Air Base, Germany, has conducted seven missions 

transporting Rwandan contingents into the region. Its C-130s, 

along with C–17s from Charleston AFB, South Carolina, have 

provided the essential strategic airlift underpinning the operation, 

with Air Force personnel also contributing to airfield operations.4 Yet strategic airlift is only part of the equation. Intervention forces, once transported into the region, often lack theater 

mobility. The UN African Union Mission in Darfur (UNAMID), 

which replaced the African Union’s only operation in Darfur in 

early 2008, has faced great difficulties in finding donor nations 

willing to supply helicopters and tactical airlift assets. UN secretary general Ban Ki-moon commented in January 2008 that 

“In the past weeks and months, I have contacted, personally, 

every possible contributor of helicopters—in the Americas, in 

Europe, in Asia. And yet, not one helicopter has been made 

available yet.”5 Ban Ki-moon attributed the difficulty of finding 

donors to “lack of political will,” with unnamed diplomats at the 

United Nations elaborating that “past attacks on helicopters” 
CONCLUSION

134

have dampened the enthusiasm of donor nations loathe to put 

their valuable aviation assets at risk. In short, the United Nations understands the need for theater mobility. It simply cannot find countries willing to contribute to filling this vacuum. 

The US Air Force, which has staked the claim to be the leading service in airpower (not simply US Air Force) thought, should 

move beyond simply patting itself on the back for supplying the 

indispensable long-range airlift that underpins many crisisintervention operations. Building on the mechanism of the 

AETF, it should cobble together an expeditionary task force 

that provides ground-centric UN or regional peace makers with 

theater and tactical air mobility as well. This may well entail 

drawing in US Army and US Marine Corps components, with a 

joint expeditionary airlift package conceivably including Air 

Force C-130s, Army CH-47 transportation helicopters, and 

Marine Corps MV-22 Osprey tilt-wing rotor aircraft. The numbers required would be limited: UNAMID, currently slated to 

become one of the largest UN missions to date, desperately 

seeks 24 helicopters. Operation Licorne, the French intervention effort in the Côte d’Ivoire, supported its substantial ground 

forces with an initial aviation contingent consisting of 

a single Fennec light helicopter, which was reinforced by two SA.330 

Cougars [helicopters originally developed by Sud Aviation called Pumas 

if assembled by Westland Helicopters] of the COS (Commandement des 

Opérations Spéciales [or French Special Operations Command]), and 

a Transall C.160 of ET 2.64 [Escadrille de Transport, Armée l’Air, or 

French Air Force Transport Squadron]. . . . another Transall, four Gazelles [Another Sud Aviation–developed helicopter] from the 5 RHC [Régiment d’Hélicoptères de Combat, Aviation Légère de L’Armée de Terre, 

or French Army Aviation Combat Helicopter Regiment] and two Pumas 

were added subsequently.6

Communications Support

While the US Air Force can and should take the lead in providing airlift and mobility to peacemaking forces, it can contribute in many other ways, with communication support leading 

the way. UN and regional forces often are poorly equipped with 

communication gear and support and at times are dependent 

on contractor support which may evaporate if the situation be-
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CONCLUSION

comes dangerous. This is no indictment of private contractor 

support, but contractors who have signed up to support peacekeeping and monitoring missions may be unprepared for peace 

enforcement. Lt Gen Roméo Dallaire, recalling the communications capability of his small UNAMIR force, wrote that “It was 

difficult to get messages to troops in the field . . . . Getting messages to headquarters was equally difficult. They either had to 

be hand delivered—a problem when both fuel and vehicles were 

at a premium—or relayed over our radio network. Unfortunately, 

our Motorola radios (unlike those carried by both the RPF and 

the RGF) had no encryption capability.”7 As for communicating 

with UN Headquarters, Dallaire depended on contractor support to operate and maintain his satellite communications. 

Luckily for him, six of his civilian communications staff “had 

insisted on staying with [UNAMIR] after the rest of their colleagues had been evacuated,” even though “they were living in 

squalor.”8 A small AETF that could provide robust, secure, and 

dependable communications and support personnel to regional 

and UN commanders engaged in genocide-intervention missions would be immensely valuable.

ISR Support

The US Air Force excels at providing timely operational ISR 

support to ground commanders, a capability that many regional and international organizations sorely lack. UN and regional peacekeepers operate largely in the dark once observation posts are overrun and established separation lines are 

ignored. The Dutch commander in charge of the southern sector of the Srebrenica safe zone in 1995, for example, had to 

send out one of his armored personnel carriers “to find the 

enclave’s new front line” once Serbs rolled past his observation posts.9 More recently, an African Union observation mission in Darfur was overrun by rebel forces on 30 September 

2007, suffering 10 dead, 10 wounded, and 30 missing in action. The lightly equipped African Union forces apparently had 

no idea of the size or strength of rebel groups forming in the 

area.10 The US Air Force certainly could support intervention 

missions by sharing satellite imagery, by launching recon-
CONCLUSION

136

naissance aircraft, or by deploying the sophisticated Global 

Hawk RQ-4 UAV. This support would be costly and contested, 

given concurrent demands in Iraq, Afghanistan, and elsewhere. Far more useful would be less costly, lower-tech ISR 

assets, such as the Army’s tactical Hunter or Raven UAVs. Furthermore, considering that the likelihood of genocide is high 

in many areas of the world where the main challenge to reconnaissance and observation craft comes from man-portable air 

defense system (MANPADS) missiles, the Air Force should 

consider the utility of substituting disposable, high-altitude 

observation balloons for scarce satellite imagery. Rather than 

thinking in terms of US “boots on the ground” in crisis areas 

such as Darfur, Somalia, and the Congo, the US should support regional and international forces by providing them with 

ISR capabilities so that reconnaissance rests on more than 

lightly armed troops in a jeep. 

MEDEVAC and Field Hospital Support

One of the key challenges to intervention forces embarked on 

peace-enforcement operations is providing emergency care and 

timely medical evacuation to peace enforcers. While blue helmet peacekeepers can claim that both sides have acknowledged 

their special neutral status and therefore are obliged to assist 

in evacuating injured personnel, forces intervening to stop 

genocide must recognize that they have taken sides and may 

well be the target of those whose genocidal campaign they intend to thwart. Indeed, those groups conducting genocide may 

specifically target intervening forces in order to demoralize 

them, stun them into passivity, or convince the populace of the 

contributing country to withdraw their forces. This certainly 

was the case in Rwanda, with Hutu extremists intentionally 

targeting Belgian peacekeepers in the correct belief that the 

Belgium government would react by withdrawing its forces. 

Providing timely medical evacuation and emergency care is essential if third party forces are expected to put their lives on the 

line to protect innocents. 

Depending on contractors to provide MEDEVAC services can 

be risky. When the situation deteriorated in Rwanda in 1994, 

for example, the two helicopters that the United Nations had 
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CONCLUSION

contracted to provide this service simply disappeared. Lieutenant General Dallaire later commented, “with the country exploding, the pilots had fled to Uganda. They were both contract 

employees, so who could blame them? But the result was that 

we were confined to Kigali with no ability to evacuate casualties. In all likelihood any seriously wounded would die. In every 

decision I was to take over the coming weeks, I had to balance 

the risk of the operation against the fact that we had no medical safety net.”11

The US military leads the world in the field of medical evacuation and emergency care: in Iraq, some 90 percent of 

wounded US soldiers survive, compared to some 75 percent 

during the Vietnam and Korean Wars and around 70 percent 

during World War II.12 The Air Force’s aeromedical evacuation 

teams and the large Air Force theater hospital at Balad, Iraq, 

have played an important role in saving US lives. Over 96 percent of injured service personnel who make it to the Balad 

field hospital survive, with urgent/priority patients air-evacuated 

within an average of 13.2 hours to even more capable facilities 

in Landstuhl, Germany, or the continental United States.13

The Department of Defense’s medical establishment is hardpressed dealing with US casualties flowing in from Iraq and 

Afghanistan, but should a smaller American footprint in the 

Middle East result in decreased US casualties, the United 

States is capable of providing a critical niche service that regional and international peace-enforcement missions lack. 

The United States could boost the effectiveness of these efforts by offering mobile battalion aid stations, a small field 

hospital, and aeromedical-evacuation services. If appropriate, 

the United States could back intervention efforts by stationing hospital ships such as the USNS Mercy or USNS Comfort

in the region to receive injured peace makers. These assets 

should not be seen as substitutes or alternatives to the largescale efforts of NGOs such as the Red Cross, Doctors without 

Borders, and Refugees International, but rather as enabling 

components supporting the intervention forces that would 

create an environment where large-scale humanitarian intervention is possible. 
CONCLUSION

138

Radio Suppression, Broadcasting Capability, 

and Strategic Communications Support

The case studies on Rwanda and the Côte d’Ivoire point out 

the importance of radio in instigating and organizing genocide 

(Radio RTLM in Rwanda) and in preventing it and garnering 

support for peace enforcement (ONUCI FM in Côte d’Ivoire). 

Over the course of the Cold War, the United States spent hundreds of millions of dollars on electronic warfare and has various platforms at its disposal, capable of conducting offensive 

electronic countermeasures such as jamming. In addition, the 

United States has devoted considerable thought and treasure 

to psychological operations and strategic communications. 

Currently, the US military has organizations and platforms 

capable of both message suppression and promulgation. The 

US Army’s 4th Psychological Operations Group and the US Air 

Force’s 193d Special Operations Wing have specialists trained 

in generating positive messages in support of operations, with 

the EC-130 Commando Solo aircraft capable of suppressing 

undesired radio broadcasts and substituting alternative radio 

transmission. These assets might not be deployed directly as 

part of an AETF supporting peace-enforcement and genocideintervention operations, but the American commander should 

be aware of their potential and offer these capabilities to the 

mission commander if appropriate.

Coercive Airpower

As a final option, the United States can provide coercive 

capabilities to the peace-enforcement commander. The US Air 

Force has embraced this mission above all others, as evidenced by the pattern that every single chief of staff of the Air 

Force since its creation in 1947 has been either a bomber or 

fighter pilot. The US Air Force could certainly provide a wide 

array of coercive options to peace-enforcement commanders, 

but should remain reticent about employing coercive airpower 

for three reasons. 

First, the intent of offering an airpower support package for 

peace enforcement is to assist and support the efforts of nonUS led regional and international intervention missions. US 
139

CONCLUSION

forces should act as force multipliers for others and refrain 

from taking over and leading intervention efforts directly. Yet 

inevitably, once US coercive airpower is employed, our superior 

technology and capability will shift leadership of the intervention effort from other nations to ourselves. This might be 

justified if coercive airpower had a proven record of effectiveness in protecting civilians and stopping mass killings. This is 

far from the case. Airpower did indeed deter Saddam Hussein 

from crushing the Kurdish North of Iraq as he had the Shia 

South following his defeat in 1990, but it proved entirely ineffective in stopping Serb paramilitaries from driving out hundreds of thousands of Kosovars in 1999. Coercive airpower can 

act as a shield and sword for ground commanders, protecting 

ground forces and punishing those who attack them. It is far 

less effective at shielding civilians from light ground forces intent on slaughtering them, nor is it easy to distinguish perpetrators from victims from thousands of feet in the air. 

This is a second reason to be wary of using coercive airpower 

for peace enforcement: the vaunted pinpoint accuracy of our 

weapon systems does not eliminate the possibility of civilian 

casualties and collateral damage. As Steffens points out in his 

case study on Somalia, the air strike against an alleged Somali 

National Alliance command center killed “up to 70 traditional 

clan leaders and civilians, most of them unassociated with 

Aideed.” The use of coercive airpower may well have accomplished the opposite of its intended effect, increasing Aideed’s 

influence and prestige rather than diminishing it. As for the 

feasibility of demolishing the killing barricades where Hutu militias massacred Tutsi civilians, this could hardly have been 

done without killing many of the civilian onlookers and cheerleaders. One might make the case that humanitarian war is 

justified, but the United States could well find itself scapegoated and pilloried, should it cause collateral damage in employing coercive airpower. We should set a high threshold before employing coercive airpower as an instrument of peace 

making: only after intervention ground forces have confronted, 

cajoled, and done their very best to stop mass killings from up 

close should we resort to doing so from far high in the skies. 

Lastly, we should be wary of employing coercive airpower 

because of the cascading dynamics it will introduce into the 
CONCLUSION

140

AETF or joint task force supporting genocide intervention efforts. Air mobility, communication support, aeromedical evacuation, and psychological operations will receive a smaller proportion of the commander’s attention once he or she begins to 

tackle the challenge of employing coercive airpower. Nonetheless, should the intervention force commander need coercive 

airpower, some form of it should be available. The form and 

level of force will depend greatly on context. If intervening 

against groups that have no airpower or an extremely limited 

air force, then helicopter gunships, AV-8 Harrier aircraft, and 

AC-130 gunships will suffice. In cases where the enemy has an 

air force that needs to be deterred from operating, more advanced aircraft may be necessary. An element of coercive airpower should be put at the disposal of the intervening force in 

recognition of the wisdom of Pres. Theodore Roosevelt’s adage 

“Speak softly and carry a big stick.” Yet both the force commander and the AETF commander should think hard before 

employing that stick. 

A wide array of actors is pressing for action to stop the mass 

slaughter of civilians. Yet genocide, while distinct from war in 

that it intentionally targets civilians and nonbelligerents for 

death, often occurs during warfare. Governments use the veil 

of war to exterminate entire groups they dislike or fear, simultaneously manipulating public wartime passions while stamping out dissent. Yet war is not genocide, nor is genocide war 

except in the sick rhetoric of its perpetrators. A growing consensus of domestic and international opinion is appalled when 

counterinsurgency campaigns veer toward the mass killing of 

entire populations, or when governments use foreign wars to 

root out and exterminate domestic opponents. As for the blatant slaughter of entire groups during peacetime, international 

opinion simply cannot accept that governments have the right 

to liquidate entire groups based on nothing more than their 

race, ethnicity, or religious affiliation. 

The Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the 

Crime of Genocide served as a first step in confronting the 

“crime that knows no name.”14 The convention, along with the 

work of scholars, survivors, and institutes devoted to understanding the Holocaust, sought to ensure that “never again” 

would be more than rhetoric. Yet as genocide after genocide 
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CONCLUSION

unfolded since 1945 with little effective reaction, a growing 

number of people realized that one needed more than treaties, 

proclamations, and laws condemning genocide. One needed 

action. Cambodia, Rwanda, and the Balkans served as wakeup calls. Since then, a host of organizations and individuals 

has taken it upon themselves to spur the public conscience. 

Within the last 10 years, politicians from both the Democratic 

and Republican parties have spoken out against genocide. The 

secretary general of the United Nations has written an Action 

Plan to Prevent Genocide, and the president of the United States 

has included the topic of genocide prevention in the National 

Security Strategy of the United States. Despite this, operational 

concepts for stopping mass killings have been in short supply. 

This volume seeks to address the deficit by examining historical 

examples of genocide and genocide prevention. The case studies ask what was done and what might have been done, with 

Steffens, Stanley, Reeves, and Boyer offering both historical 

overviews and suggestions for the future. This volume focuses 

on one narrow component to genocide prevention and intervention: the use of airpower in stopping mass killings. If it in any 

way contributes to framing operational responses to the outbreak of genocide, the authors will have accomplished their 

purpose.

Notes

1. Feil, Preventing Genocide, 3.

2. Davis, Anatomy of a Reform.

3. Scott Feil’s report differentiates between a safe haven and “safe sites.” 

The former is appropriate where the targeted population is concentrated in 

one geographic area, such as the Kurds in Kurdistan. In Rwanda, where Hutus 

and Tutsis lived intermingled among each other, one would instead have had 

to create numerous local safe sites to protect the Tutsi.

4. Winn, “Air Force Propping up Peacekeepers in Darfur.”

5. Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, “Sudan.”

6. Cooper and Mladenov, “Cote d’Ivoire, since 2002.” Cooper notes that 

“US forces became involved as well. The USMC deployed C-130 Hercules 

transports, Sikorsky CH-53E Sea Stallion and UH-60L Blackhawk helicopters crewed by special forces to evacuate foreign nationals from Korhogo.”

7. Dallaire and Beardsley, Shake Hands with the Devil, 203.

8. Ibid., 308.

9. Rohde, Endgame, 79.
CONCLUSION

142

10. British Broadcasting Corporation, “Africa’s Troubled Darfur Mission.”

11. Dallaire and Beardsley, Shake Hands with the Devil, 264.

12. Hyer, “Iraq and Afghanistan Producing New Pattern of Extremity War 

Injuries.”

13. Ibid., and Seals, “Aeromedical Evacuation Teams Ready to Help Anytime.”

14. Power, A Problem from Hell, chapter 2.
143

Contributors

Lt Col Aaron Steffens, USAF, is chief of International Developmental Fighter Programs for the deputy under secretary of the 

Air Force, International Affairs, in Washington, DC. He graduated 

from the US Air Force Academy in 1992 with a bachelor of 

science in aeronautical engineering degree and also holds a 

master of military operational art and science degree from the 

Air Command and Staff College, Maxwell AFB, Alabama, and a 

master of science degree from the College for Financial Planning, 

Phoenix, Arizona. He is a career fighter pilot with over 2,000 

hours in the mighty F-16, including more than 200 combat 

missions over Iraq, the former Yugoslavia, and Afghanistan.

Lt Col Keith Reeves, USAF, is a 15-year Air Force veteran 

from Indianapolis, Indiana. He graduated from the United 

States Air Force Academy in 1992 and holds a master of 

engineering degree from the University of Colorado. Colonel 

Reeves started his career as a developmental engineer at WrightPatterson AFB, Ohio, prior to entering pilot training. He then 

flew B-52s from Barksdale AFB, Louisiana, and held many 

positions including instructor pilot and wing combat plans 

officer. Colonel Reeves then transitioned to the B-2 at Whiteman 

AFB, Missouri, flew combat during Operation Iraqi Freedom, 

and instructed at the B-2 Formal Training Unit. In 2005 he 

attended the Air Command and Staff College. He is a senior 

pilot with more than 2,500 hours. He is currently chief of Air 

and Ground Dominance at Air Combat Command Headquarters, 

Langley AFB, Virginia.

CDR Timothy E. Boyer, USN, is a 1991 graduate of Purdue 

University with a bachelor of science degree in civil engineering. 

A naval flight officer, he has accumulated more than 2,700 

hours in the E-2C Hawkeye. He has served operational tours 

with several east coast carrier airborne early warning squadrons, 

deploying to the Mediterranean and Arabian Gulf areas of 

operation on USS America (CV-66), USS John F. Kennedy (CV-67), 

and USS George Washington (CVN-73). He attended Air Command 

and Staff College and received a master of military operational 
CONTRIBUTORS

144

art and science degree. He is currently serving as an information 

operations planner and chief of the US Central Command support 

division at the Joint Information Operations Warfare Command 

at Lackland AFB, Texas.

Maj George Stanley, USAF, is a native of Memphis, 

Tennessee, and graduated from the US Air Force Academy in 

1994 with a bachelor of science degree in biochemistry. He 

attended undergraduate pilot training at Columbus AFB, 

Mississippi, and A-10 initial qualification training at DavisMonthan AFB, Arizona. He has flown the A-10 from Pope AFB, 

North Carolina; Osan AB, Republic of Korea; and the A-10 

Formal Training Unit at Davis-Monthan AFB; with two 

deployments in support of Operation Southern Watch. He 

attended Air Command and Staff College in 2005 and graduated 

with a master of arts in military operational art and science 

degree. He is a senior pilot with over 1,700 hours and is 

currently serving as the A-10 functional area manager at Air 

Combat Command, Langley AFB.
145

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161

Acra III, 107

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141

Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, 28, 40

Afghanistan, 21, 39, 44, 132, 136–37

Africa, 21–25, 35, 44, 46, 50–51, 54, 67, 

71–72, 81, 96, 99–103, 118, 123

Africa Contingency Operations Training 

and Assistance Program, 46

Africa Watch, 23–25

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66, 72, 96, 101–2, 107, 112, 114–16, 

122–25, 133, 135

African Standby Force, 44, 50–51. See 

also ASF

African Union, 7, 45, 96, 107, 133, 135. 

See also AU

AH-1, 34, 43. See also aircraft and helicopters

AH-6, 43. See also aircraft and helicopters

Aideed, Mohamed Farah, 23–24, 26–28, 

32–34, 37, 43, 66, 139

Air Corps Tactical School, 130

Air Force Theater Hospital, Balad, Iraq, 

137

Air Mobility Command, 29. See also AMC

aircraft, 27, 29, 42–43, 64, 69–71, 114, 

123, 129–31, 134, 136, 138, 140. 

See also helicopters

AH-1, 34, 43

AH-6, 43

AV-8 Harrier, 140

C-17, 133

C-130, 29, 141

C-160, 114, 131

CH-47, 134

Commando Solo, 70, 129, 138 (see 

also EC-130)

EC-130, 47, 70, 129, 138 (see also

Commando Solo)

Fennec (Puma) light helicopter, 134

MH-60, 43

MV-22 Osprey, 134

RQ-1 Predator UAV, 47 (see also unmanned aerial vehicles and UAV)

RQ-4 Global Hawk, 136 (see also

unmanned aerial vehicles and UAV)

SA.330 Cougar helicopters, 134

Unmanned aerial vehicles, 136 (see 

also UAV)

Akazu, 62, 86–89, 91–92, 94, 96–97

Albright, Madeleine, 3

Algerian, 25

Alliance des Militaires Agacés par les 

Séculaires Actes Sournois des Unaristes, 88. See also Alliance of Soldiers 

Provoked by the Age-old Deceitful 

Acts of the Unarists and AMASASU

Alliance of Soldiers Provoked by the 

Age-old Deceitful Acts of the Unarists, 88. See also Alliance des Militaires Agacés par les Séculaires Actes 

Sournois des Unaristes and AMASASU

Alliot-Marie, Michele, 119

AMASASU, 86, 88–89. See also Alliance 

des Militaires Agacés par les Séculaires Actes Sournois des Unaristes and 

Alliance of Soldiers Provoked by the 

Age-old Deceitful Acts of the Unarists

AMC, 29, 42. See also Air Materiel Command

America, 2, 38, 44, 49, 80, 121

American, 2, 5–6, 16, 21–22, 28, 30–31, 

34–38, 44, 46–47, 66–67, 72, 79–80, 

96, 99, 137–38

American Academy of Diplomacy, 16

American Bar Association, 5

Amnesty International, 10, 25

Annan, Kofi, 7, 15, 18, 121, 125

anti-French, 107, 114–15. See also 

France and French

anti-Gbagbo, 107. See also Gbagbo, 

Laurent

anti-semitism, 4

anti-USC, 23. See also United Somali 

Congress

APROSOMA, 58–59. See also Association Pour la Promotion Sociale de la 

Masse and Association for the Social 

Promotion of the Masses

Armenia, 84

Armenian, 1

Arusha Accords, 62–63, 66, 71, 78, 86

ASF, 44–47. See also African Standby 

Force

Index
INDEX

162

ASF-designed, 47. See also African 

Standby Force

Aspin, Les, 34

Association for the Social Promotion of 

the Masses, 58. See also Association 

Pour la Promotion Sociale de la Masse 

and APROSOMA

Association Pour la Promotion Sociale de 

la Masse, 58. See also Association for 

the Social Promotion of the Masses 

and APROSOMA

Assyrian, 4

AU, 7, 45–47, 91. See also African Union

AV-8, 140. See also aircraft

Bahutu Manifesto, 58–59

Balad, Iraq, 137

Ban Ki-moon, 4, 7, 105, 110, 133

Barnett, Michael, 77, 98–99

Barre, Said, 21–26

Battle of Mogadishu, Somalia, 21, 34–35, 

38, 44

Bédié, Henri Konan, 104–5, 110

Belgian, 29, 55–60, 66, 68, 77, 136

Belgium, 57, 66, 68, 72, 136

Biden, Joseph, 3

Bir, Cevik, 33

Bosnia, 1, 6, 67, 132

Bosnian, 1, 6

Bouaké, Côte d’Ivoire, 114

Boutros-Ghali, Boutros, 27–28, 31–32

British, 9, 112, 124–25, 142

Brownback, Sam, 3, 17

Bujumbura, Burundi, 70–71

Burao, Somalia, 23

Burke, Edmund, 72

Burkina Faso, 102, 104

Burma, 1

Burundi, 59–64, 70–71

Bush, George H. W., 31

Bush, George W., 2, 31

C-17, 133. See also aircraft

C-130, 29, 141. See also aircraft

C-160, 114, 131. See also aircraft

Cambodia, 1, 84, 141

Cambodian, 2, 6, 12, 18, 85

Canadian, 15, 29

Capuano, Michael, 3

Carnegie Commission on Preventing 

Deadly Conflict, 68–69

Carr Center for Human Rights Policy, 

Harvard University, 16. See also Harvard University, Carr Center for Human Rights Policy

CDR, 62, 88, 101. See also Coalition pour 

la Défense de la Republique and Coalition for the Defense of the Republic

cease-fire, 26, 32, 61, 106–7, 114, 116–17

CENTCOM, 29–31, 35, 42. See also US 

Central Command

Center for International Development 

and Conflict Management’s State 

Failure Task Force, 108

CERD, 109, 113, 131. See also Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination and UN Committee on 

the Elimination of Racial Discrimination

CH-47, 134. See also aircraft and helicopters

Chad, 1

chapter VI, Charter of the United Nations, 15, 28, 45. See also UN Charter Chapter VI

chapter VII, Charter of the United Nations, 15, 31, 33, 39, 68, 116. See 

also UN Charter Chapter VII

Charleston AFB, SC, 133

Charter of the United Nations, 6, 7

Chinese, 6

5me Régiment d’Hélicoptères de Combat, 

Aviation Légère de L’Armée de Terre, 

134. See also 5th French Army Aviation Combat Helicopter Regiment 

and 5 RHC

Civil Military Operations Center, 42. See 

also CMOC

civil war, 6, 21–22, 24–26, 39, 60, 65, 

67–68, 70, 93, 102–3, 105, 107–8, 

111, 113

civil-affairs, 31

civil-military, 46, 50

CJTF-HOA, 35–36. See also Combined 

Joint Task Force-Horn of Africa

clan, 22–25, 29, 34, 128, 139

Clarke, Walter, 48n–50n, 82

Clausewitz, Carl von, 82, 99

Clinton, Bill, 34

Clinton, Hillary, 3

CMOC, 42. See also Combined Military 

Operations Center

Coalition for the Defense of the Republic, 88. See also Coalition pour la 

Défense de la Republique and CDR
INDEX

163

Coalition pour la Défense de la Republique, 88. See also Coalition for the 

Defense of the Republic and CDR

codeployed, 45

Cohen, 3

Cold War, 6–8, 26–27, 31, 48–50, 58, 

67, 138

Combined Joint Task Force-Horn of Africa, 35. See also CJTF-HOA

Commandement des Opérations Spéciales, 134. See also French Special Operations Command and COS

Commando Solo, 70, 129, 138. See also

EC-130 and aircraft

Committee on Conscience, 1, 10, 17

Committee on the Elimination of Racial 

Discrimination, 109. See also UN

Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination and CERD

Congo, 59, 77, 96, 132, 136

Congress, 23, 28, 34, 37, 81

Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, 4–5, 

7, 18–19, 140

COS, 134. See also Commandement des 

Opérations Spéciales and French 

Special Operations Command

Côte d’Ivoire, 101–25, 128, 131, 134, 138

Côte d’Ivoire Student Federation, 112. 

See also Fédération Estudiantine et 

Scolaire de Côte d’Ivoire and FESCI

Cultural Revolution, 6

Cyangugu, Rwanda, 70

Dallaire, Roméo, 53, 66–69, 135, 137

Daloa, Côte d’Ivoire, 111

Darfur, 1–3, 6–7, 17–18, 128, 132–33, 

135–36,

DDR, 107. See also demobilization, disarmament, and reintegration

demobilization, disarmament, and reintegration, 107. See also DDR

Democide, 8–9, 18–19

Democratic, 3, 9, 19, 58–59, 80, 101, 

103, 113, 117–18,

Democratic Party of Côte d’Ivoire, 103. 

See also Parti Democratique de la 

Côte d’Ivoire and PDCI

Democratic Republic of Congo, 59

Democratic Republican Movement-Party 

of the Movement for Emancipation of 

the Hutu People, 58. See also Mouvement Démocratique Républicain-Parti 

du Mouvement de l’Emancipation du 

Peuple Hutu and MDR-PARMEHUTU

Department of State, 2, 7, 25. See also

DOS

di Giovanni, Janine, 112

Diarra, Seydou, 106

Dioula (ethic group, Côte d’Ivoire), 111

Djibouti, 26

Doctors without Borders, 137

DOS, 25, 28. See also Department of 

State

Durbin, South Africa, 3

East Africa, 35

Eastern Europe, 4

EC-130, 47, 70, 129, 138. See also

Commando Solo and aircraft

ECOMICI, 115–16, 119. See also

ECOWAS Mission in Côte d’Ivoire, 

ECOWAS, and Economic Community 

of West African States

Economic Community of West African 

States, 46, 115, 125. See also

ECOWAS, ECOWAS Mission in Côte 

d’Ivoire, and ECOMICI

ECOWAS, 46, 101, 106, 113, 115–16, 

119–20, 122–23, 125, 131. See also

Economic Community of West African States, ECOWAS Mission in Côte 

d’Ivoire, and ECOMICI

ECOWAS Mission in Côte d’Ivoire, 115. 

See also ECOMICI, ECOWAS, and 

Economic Community of West African States

Egal, Muhammad Ibrahim, 26

Entebbe, Uganda, 71

Escadrille de Transport 2.64, Armée l’Air, 

134. See also French Air Force Transport Squadron 2.64 and ET 2.64

ET 2.64, 134. See also Escadrille de 

Transport 2.64, Armée l’Air, and 

French Air Force Transport Squadron 2.64

Ethiopia, 22–23, 28, 40

ethnic cleansing, 6, 15–16, 112, 125

EUCOM, 46. See also US European 

Command

European Union, 114

Eye of the People, 111. See also L’Oeil 

du Peuple
INDEX

164

failed state, 21, 33, 39–41

Fédération Estudiantine et Scolaire de Côte 

d’Ivoire, 112. See also Côte d’Ivoire 

Student Federation and FESCI

Feil, Scott, 68

Fennec light helicopter, 134. See also

aircraft and helicopters

FESCI, 112. See also Fédération Estudiantine et Scolaire de Côte d’Ivoire and 

Côte d’Ivoire Student Federation

5th French Army Aviation Combat Helicopter Regiment, 134. See also 5me 

Régiment d’Hélicoptères de Combat, 

Aviation Légère de L’Armée de Terre 

and 5 RHC

Final Solution, 10–11, 53, 78

5 RHC, 134. See also 5me Régiment 

d’Hélicoptères de Combat, Aviation 

Légère de L’Armée de Terre and 5th 

French Army Aviation Combat Helicopter Regiment

FPI, 105, 111–12. See also Front Populaire Ivoirien and Ivorian Popular Front

France, 34, 60–61, 68–70, 101, 103, 

105–7, 112–17, 119–20, 123–24, 

129, 131, 134

French Air Force Transport Squadron 

2.64, 134. See also Escadrille de 

Transport 2.64, Armée l’Air and ET 

2.64

French Special Operations Command, 

134. See also Commandement des 

Opérations Spéciales and COS

Front Populaire Ivoirien, 105. See also

Ivorian Popular Front and FPI

Gbagbo, Laurent, 105, 107, 111–12

gendarmerie, 105, 110

gendarmes, 111

General Accounting Office, 25

Genghis Khan, 9

genocidaires, 129

genocide, 1–19, 21–22, 27, 36, 45, 47, 

53–54, 59, 61–69, 71–72, 75, 77–101, 

108–10, 113, 117–25, 127–33, 136, 

138, 140–41

Genocide Convention Implementation 

Act, 5

Genocide Intervention Network, 10, 18

Genocide Prevention Task Force, 3, 16, 18

Genocide Watch, 1–2, 10, 14, 17, 19, 

99, 108, 125, 130

Georgetown University, 2

German, 4, 9–10, 29, 55, 77

Germany, 4, 46, 55, 72, 133, 137

Global Hawk RQ-4 UAV, 136. See also

aircraft and UAV

Global Peace Operations Initiative, 46

global war on terror, 21, 36

Goude, Blé 117

Great Britain, 21

Great Leap Forward, 6

Guéï, Robert, 105–6, 114

Guinea, 102

Gulu, Uganda, 71

Habr Gedir subclan, 23

Habyarimana, Agathe, 86

Habyarimana, Juvenal, 78, 86

Harff, Barbara, 14

Hargeysa, Somalia, 23

Harrier AV-8, 140. See also aircraft

Harvard University, 16, 81

Harvard University, Carr Center for Human Rights Policy, 16. See also Carr 

Center for Human Rights Policy, Harvard University

helicopters, 7, 33–34, 43, 45, 66, 69, 

97, 114, 131, 133–34, 136, 140–41

AH-1, 34, 43

AH-6, 43

CH-47, 134

Fennec (Puma) light helicopter, 134

MH-60, 43

SA.330 Cougar helicopters, 134

Helland, Sam, 35

Henry L. Stimson Center, 16, 19

Herbst, Jeffrey, 82

Hezbollah, 82

Hilberg, Raul, 1, 10–14

Hoar, Joseph P., 31

Holocaust, 1, 4, 10–11, 16, 84, 140

Horn-of-Africa, 28

Houphouët-Boigney, Felix, 103–4

Howe, Jonathan, 33–34

Human Rights Watch, 10, 80, 93, 111, 

124–25, 130

Hutu, 6, 13, 54–65, 67, 72, 74, 77–78, 

80–82, 86–89, 91–92, 94, 97–98, 

136, 139

Hutu Social Movement, 58. See also

Mouvement Social Muhutu and MSM

Hyde, Henry, 3
INDEX

165

ibyitso, 62

ICRC, 29. See also International Committee of the Red Cross

igitero, 86–87, 99

Impuzamugambi, 88, 130

Indonesia, 6

Indonesian, 8

intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance, 47, 122. See also ISR

Intelligent Young African, 112. See also 

Jeune Afrique L’Intelligent

Interahamwe, 64–65, 68, 88, 130

International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty, 15

International Committee of the Red 

Cross, 29. See also ICRC

International Criminal Tribunal for 

Rwanda, 6

International Criminal Tribunal for the 

Former Yugoslavia, 5

international law, 4, 7, 80

intervention, 2, 7, 10, 15–17, 21–22, 25, 

27–31, 33–39, 41, 43–45, 53, 66–67, 

69–70, 72, 75, 79–83, 91, 93–95, 97–

98, 101, 113, 118–23, 127–41

inyenzi, 60

Iraq, 4, 21, 39, 44, 67, 71, 132–33, 136–

37, 139, 142

Iraqi, 46, 51, 71, 133

Isaaq clan, 23

ISR, 122, 132, 135–36. See also intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance

Italy, 21, 34

“Ivorian miracle,” 102

Ivoirité, 103–5, 113, 118

Ivorian-born, 105

Ivorians, 103–4, 112

Ivorian Popular Front, 105. See also 

Front Populaire Ivoirien and FPI

Ivorian Popular Movement for the Great 

West, 106. See also Mouvement Populaire Ivoirien du Grand Ouest and 

MPIGO

Ivorian Television Broadcasting, 110. 

See also Radiodiffusion Télévision 

Ivoirienne and RTI

Ivory Coast, 101, 103

J-3/Operations, 30. See also Joint Staff 

and JS

J-5/Plans, 30. See also Joint Staff and JS

JCS, 30, 41. See also Joint Chiefs of 

Staff

Jean-Pierre, 68

Jeune Afrique L’Intelligent, 112. See also

Intelligent Young African

Jews, 1, 4, 8, 10–13, 17, 19, 85

Johnston, Robert B., 32–33

Joint Chiefs of Staff, 30. See also JCS

Joint Staff, 28, 30. See also JS

Joint Task Force-Operation Provide Relief, 29. See also JTF-OPR

JS, 28, 30. See also Joint Staff

JTF-OPR, 29. See also Joint Task ForceOperation Provide Relief

Kangura, 63. See also Wake Them Up

Kavaruganda, Joseph, 65

Kennedy, Kevin, 42

Kenya, 1, 29

Khmer Rouge, 6, 8

Kibuye Province, Rwanda, 65

Kigali, Rwanda, 60–61, 63, 65, 68, 70–71, 

84, 137

Kigali International Airport, 70

Kosovo, 1, 6, 15, 97, 123, 133

Kulaks, 8

Kuperman, Alan J., 69, 129

Kurdish, 132, 139

Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, 

Germany, 137

Lantos, Tom, 3

Lawrence College, 82

League of Nations, 4

Lemkin, Raphael, 3–4, 6, 10–11, 78

Liddell Hart, B. H., 82

Lieberman, Joseph, 3

Linas-Marcoussis Accord, 106. See also

LMA

LMA, 106–7, 116. See also Linas-Marcoussis Accord

L’Oeil du Peuple, 111. See also Eye of 

the People

Lvov, Ukraine, 3

Mali, 102

man-portable air defense system, 136. 

See also MANPADS

MANPADS, 136. See also man-portable 

air defense system

Mao Tse-tung, 6
INDEX

166

mass killing, 2–4, 9–10, 14–15, 22, 24, 

32, 37, 39, 68, 108, 118, 120–21, 

127, 140

mass murder, 7, 9, 18, 83, 93, 98–99

MDR-PARMEHUTU, 58–59. See also 

Mouvement Démocratique RépublicainParti du Mouvement de l’Emancipation 

du Peuple Hutu and Democratic Republican Movement-Party of the 

Movement for Emancipation of the 

Hutu People

MEDEVAC, 132, 136. See also medical 

evacuation

medical evacuation, 70, 132, 136–37. 

See also MEDEVAC

Mendez, Juan E., 110, 121

MH-60, 43

Mills, Nicholas, 82

Minority Rights Group International, 108

MINUCI, 106–7, 116–17, 120. See also

Mission des Nations Unies en Côte 

d’Ivoire and UN Mission in Côte 

d’Ivoire

Mission des Nations Unies en Côte 

d’Ivoire, 106. See also UN Mission in 

Côte d’Ivoire and MINUCI

mistake of 1960, 60

MJP, 106. See also Mouvement pour la 

Justice et la Paix and Movement for 

Justice and Peace

Mogadishu, Somalia, 21, 23, 26–28, 34–

35, 37–38, 43–44, 80

Mohamed, Ali Mahdi, 23, 26

Mombasa, Kenya, 29

Monoko-Zohi, Côte d’Ivoire, 111

Montreal Institute for Genocide and Human Rights Studies, 2, 17

Mouvement Démocratique RépublicainParti du Mouvement de l’Emancipation 

du Peuple Hutu, 58. See also Democratic Republican Movement-Party of 

the Movement for Emancipation of the 

Hutu People and MDR-PARMEHUTU

Mouvement Patriotique de Côte d’Ivoire, 

106. See also Patriotic Movement of 

Côte d’Ivoire and MPCI

Mouvement Populaire Ivoirien du Grand 

Ouest, 106. See also Ivorian Popular 

Movement for the Great West and 

MPIGO

Mouvement pour la Justice et la Paix, 

106. See also Movement for Justice 

and Peace and MJP

Mouvement Révolutionaire Nationale 

pour le Développement, 88. See also

National Revolutionary Movement for 

Development and MRND

Mouvement Social Muhutu, 58. See also

Hutu Social Movement and MSM

Movement for Justice and Peace, 106. 

See also Mouvement pour la Justice et 

la Paix and MJP

MPCI, 106. See also Mouvement Patriotique de Côte d’Ivoire and Patriotic 

Movement of Côte d’Ivoire

MPIGO, 106. See also Mouvement Populaire Ivoirien du Grand Ouest and Ivorian Popular Movement for the Great 

West

MRND, 88. See also Mouvement Révolutionaire Nationale pour le Développement and National Revolutionary 

Movement for Development

MSM, 58. See also Hutu Social Movement and MSM

Museveni, Yoweri, 60

Muslim, 1, 101–6, 110–11, 124

MV-22 Osprey, 134. See also aircraft

National Resistance Army, 60

National Revolutionary Movement for 

Development, 88. See also Mouvement Révolutionaire Nationale pour le 

Développement and MRND

National Security Council, 6, 28. See 

also NSC

National Security Strategy, 2, 17, 21, 47, 

121, 125, 141

nation-building, 21, 34

Native Americans, 1

NATO, 6, 80, 120, 123, 131–32

Natsios, Andrew, 3, 18

Nazi, 3–4, 10–11

Ndadaye, Melchior, 62, 64, 71

neoconservative, 9

New Forces, 106–7, 116

NSC, 28, 30, 34. See also National Security Council

NSC Deputies Committee, 30, 34. See also

National Security Council and NSC

Nuremberg Trials, 4

nyumbakumi, 87–88
INDEX

167

Oakley, Robert, 32, 66

OAU, 25. See also Organization of African Unity

Office of Cambodian Genocide Investigations, 2

Office of the Secretary of Defense, 28. 

See also OSD

Ogaden Region of Ethiopia, 22

193d Special Operations Wing, 138

ONUCI FM, 117, 138. See also Opération des Nations Unies en Côte 

d’Ivoire frequency modulated radio, 

UN Operation in Côte d’Ivoire, and 

UNOCI

Operation Allied Force, 71–72, 80, 83

Opération des Nations Unies en Côte 

d’Ivoire frequency modulated radio, 

117. See also ONUCI FM, UN Operation in Côte d’Ivoire, and UNOCI

Operation Licorne, 114–16, 131, 134

Operation Provide Relief, 29, 37, 49

Operation Restore Hope, 30–32, 36, 41, 

45, 50, 66, 82

Operation Turquoise, 69, 129

Organization of African Unity, 25. See 

also OAU

OSD, 28, 39. See also Office of the Secretary of Defense

Ouattara, Alassane, 104–6

Pakistan, 6

Pancrace, 65

Parti Democratique de la Côte d’Ivoire, 

103. See also Democratic Party of 

Côte d’Ivoire and PDCI

Patriotic Movement of Côte d’Ivoire, 106. 

See also Mouvement Patriotique de 

Côte d’Ivoire and MPCI

PDCI, 103–5. See also Parti Democratique de la Côte d’Ivoire and Democratic Party of Côte d’Ivoire

peace-enforcement, 31, 33, 39, 127, 

132, 136–38

Peacekeeping and Stability Operations 

Institute, 16. See also US Army 

Peacekeeping and Stability Operations Institute

Poland, 4

politicide, 8–10, 15

Polish, 3

Powell, Colin, 7, 30–31, 34

power, 2, 17–18, 21–25, 27–28, 30, 32–

33, 37, 40–41, 44, 55–57, 62, 65, 78, 

81, 86, 94, 96, 98–99, 102–4, 109–11, 

114, 118, 121, 142

pregenocide, 77, 91

Presidential Decision Directive 25, 36

Prevent Genocide International, 10, 19, 

101, 108

Princeton University, 82

Proxmire, William, 5–6

Puma helicopter, 134. See also aircraft 

and helicopters

R2P, 14–16, 19. See also responsibility 

to protect

Radio Télévision Libre Mille Collines, 63. 

See also Thousand Hills Independent 

Radio and Television and RTLMC

Radiodiffusion Télévision Ivoirienne, 110. 

See also Ivorian Television Broadcasting and RTI

Ramstein AB, Germany, 133

RANU, 60. See also Rwandese Alliance 

for National Unity

rapid genocide intervention, 79, 83, 

130. See also RGI

Rassemblement des Républicains, 104. 

See also Republican Rally and RDR

RDR, 104–5, 110–11. See also Rassemblement des Républicains and Republican Rally

Reagan, Ronald, 5

realism, 79–80

Red Berets, 22–23

Red Cross, 10, 29, 137

Refugees International, 2, 63, 137

Reporters Without Borders, 110

republican, 2–3, 58, 104, 141

Republican Rally, 104. See also Rassemblement des Républicains and RDR

responsibility to protect, 14–16, 19. See 

also R2P

RGI, 79, 83–86, 90, 93–98, 130–31. See 

also rapid genocide intervention

Roman Catholic, 57

Roosevelt, 140

RPF, 60–65, 69–71, 78, 81, 87–88, 92, 

95, 135. See also Rwandan Patriotic 

Front

RQ-1 Predator UAV, 47. See also aircraft, 

unmanned aerial vehicles, and UAV
INDEX

168

RTI, 110. See also Radiodiffusion Télévision Ivoirienne and Ivorian Television 

Broadcasting

RTLMC, 63–65, 70. See also Radio Télévision Libre Mille Collines and Thousand Hills Independent Radio and 

Television

Rummel, R. J., 8–9

Russian Empire, 3

Rwanda, 1, 6, 15, 36, 53–65, 67–75, 77, 

80–82, 84, 86–87, 89, 92–93, 95–100, 

108, 118–20, 123–25, 128–29, 132, 

136, 138, 141

Rwandan Killing Machine, 78, 86–87, 

89–90, 93, 97

Rwandan Patriotic Front, 60. See also RPF

Rwandese, 58, 60, 63

Rwandese Alliance for National Unity, 

60. See also RANU

Rwandese National Union, 58. See also

Union Nationale Rwandaise and UNAR

Rwandese Refugee Welfare Foundation, 60

SA.330 Cougar helicopters, 134. See 

also aircraft and helicopters

Sahnoun, Mohamed, 25–28, 48

Semitic, 55

Senate, 3, 5, 17

Serbia, 71

Serbian, 133

786th Expeditionary Squadron, 133

Shia, 139

Shoah, 1

SNA, 33–34, 43. See also Somali National Alliance

SNF, 24. See also Somali National Front

SNM, 23. See also Somali National 

Movement

Somali, 22–30, 33–36, 39–42, 48, 128, 139

Somali Air Force, 23

Somali National Alliance, 33, 139. See 

also SNA

Somali National Front, 24. See also SNF

Somali National Movement, 23. See also

SNM

Somalia, 3, 15, 21–32, 35–44, 47–50, 

66–67, 72, 75, 80, 82, 128, 136, 139

Somaliland, 26

Sosa, Juan Saúl, 70

Soviets, 4, 8

Special Envoy to Sudan, 3

Srebrenica, Bosnia, 1, 6, 15, 135 

Stalinist, 8

STAND, 2, 64, 88, 94, 96–97, 105. See 

also Student Anti-Genocide Coalition 

and Students Taking Action Now: 

Darfur

Stanton, Gregory, 2, 12–14, 19, 98, 131

Student Anti-Genocide Coalition, 17. 

See also Students Taking Action 

Now: Darfur and STAND

sub-Saharan, 44

Sudan, 3, 6, 77, 123, 141

Suharto, 6

Sûreté Nationale, 110

Sweden, 4

Tanzania, 59–60

Task Force Ranger, 34–35

The Hague, 80

Thousand Hills Independent Radio and 

Television, 63. See also Radio Télévision Libre Mille Collines and RTLMC

Times (London), 112

TRAFIPRO, 58. See also Travail, Fidélité, 

Progrès

Travail, Fidélité, Progrès, 58. See also

TRAFIPRO

Tutsi, 8, 54–65, 67–69, 72, 77–78, 81–82, 

84, 86, 88–89, 91–92, 94, 98–99, 

129, 139, 141

Twa, 54, 56, 58

UAV, 136. See also aircraft and unmanned aerial vehicles

Uganda, 59–61, 71, 96, 137

UN, 6–7, 15, 18, 26–36, 38–40, 43, 47–50, 

53, 56–59, 65–66, 80, 103, 106–10, 

116–18, 120–21, 124–25, 127–28, 

132–35

UN African Union Mission in Darfur, 

133. See also UNAMID

UN Assistance Mission in Rwanda, 53, 

65. See also UNAMIR

UN Charter Chapter VI, 15, 28, 45. See 

also chapter VI, Charter of the 

United Nations

UN Charter Chapter VII, 15, 31, 33, 39, 

68, 116. See also chapter VII, Charter 

of the United Nations

UN Committee on the Elimination of 

Racial Discrimination, 109. See also

Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination and CERD

UN expert on Genocide, 108
INDEX

169

UN General Assembly, 4–5, 67

UN High Commission on Refugees, 27. 

See also UNHCR

UN Mission in Côte d’Ivoire, 106. See 

also Mission des Nations Unies en 

Côte d’Ivoire and MINUCI

UN Observer Mission Uganda-Rwanda, 

65. See also UNAMUR

UN Operation in Côte d’Ivoire, 107. See 

also UNOCI, Opération des Nations 

Unies en Côte d’Ivoire frequency modulated radio, and ONUCI FM

UN Operation in Somalia 27. See also

UNOSOM

UN Operation in Somalia II, 31. See also

UNOSOM II

UN Security Council Resolution 751, 27. 

See also UNSCR 751

UN Security Council Resolution 794. 31. 

See also UNSCR 794

UN Security Council Resolution 814, 33. 

See also UNSCR 814

UN Security Council Resolution 837, 33. 

See also UNSCR 837

UN Security Council Resolution 1769, 7. 

See also UNSCR 1769

UN Special Advisor on the Prevention of 

Genocide, 110

UN World Food Program, 27. See also 

UNWFP

UNAMID, 7, 133–34. See also UN African 

Union Mission in Darfur

UNAMIR, 53, 66–68, 135. See also UN 

Assistance Mission in Rwanda

UNAMUR, 65. See also UN Observer 

Mission Uganda-Rwanda

UNAR, 58–59. See also Union Nationale 

Rwandaise and Rwandese National 

Union

UNHCR, 27. See also UN High Commission on Refugees

Unified Task Force, 31. See also UNITAF

Union Nationale Rwandaise, 58. See 

also Rwandese National Union and 

UNAR

UNITAF, 31–33, 37–42, 66, 128. See 

also Unified Task Force

United Nations, 2, 4–7, 15, 18–19, 21–22, 

25–28, 31–35, 37–39, 43–45, 53, 59, 

63, 65–66, 68, 72, 81–83, 94–95, 

101, 106–8, 113, 116–21, 123–25, 

133–34, 136, 141

United Nations Genocide Convention, 22

United Somali Congress, 23. See also

USC

United States, 1–2, 4–6, 10, 16–17, 19, 

25–26, 34, 38–40, 44, 46–50, 53, 67–

68, 72, 81–82, 101, 115, 121–23, 

125, 131–33, 137–39, 141

United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, 1, 16–17, 19. See also USHMM

University of Wisconsin, 77

unmanned aerial vehicles, 136. See also

aircraft and UAV

UNOCI, 107, 116–17, 119–20, 125, 131. 

See also UN Operation in Côte 

d’Ivoire, Opération des Nations Unies 

en Côte d’Ivoire frequency modulated 

radio, and ONUCI FM

UNOSOM, 27–28, 30–38, 40, 43, 66, 

128. See also UN Operation in Somali

UNOSOM II, 31–35, 37–38, 40, 43, 66, 

128. See also UN Operation in Somalia II

UNSCR 751, 27. See also UN Security 

Council Resolution 751

UNSCR 794, 31. See also UN Security 

Council Resolution 794

UNSCR 814, 33. See also UN Security 

Council Resolution 814

UNSCR 837, 33. See also UN Security 

Council Resolution 837

UNSCR 1769, 7. See also UN Security 

Council Resolution 1769

UNWFP, 27. See also UN World food Program

US, 2–7, 10, 12, 14, 16, 18, 21–22, 25, 

28–37, 39, 41–44, 46–47, 49, 51, 53, 

65–66, 69, 79–82, 96, 121–23, 127–28, 

131–39, 141

US Africa Command, 46. See also US 

AFRICOM

US AFRICOM, 46–47. See also US Africa 

Command

US Air Force, 29, 131–35, 138

US Army Peacekeeping and Stability 

Operations Institute, 16

US Army Special Forces, 34

US Central Command, 29

US European Command, 46, 51. See 

also EUCOM

US National Command Authority, 35

US National Defense Strategy, 36
INDEX

170

USAF, 21, 29, 53, 77. See also US Air 

Force

USC, 23–24, 34. See also United Somali 

Congress

USHMM, 1, 10, 17–18. See also United 

States Holocaust Memorial Museum

USNS Comfort, 137

USNS Mercy, 137

Uwilingiyimana, 65–66

Uzbekistan, 1

Valentino, Benjamin, 18, 47–48, 78, 98

Wake Them Up, 63. See also Kangura

Wehrmacht, 4

Weinberger (Caspar) doctrine, 79

Work, Fidelity, Progress, 58. See also

Travail, Fidélité, Progrès and 

TRAFIPRO

Yale University’s Genocide Studies Program, 2, 17

Young Patriots, 113, 117

Zaire, 60, 69–70, 96

Zimbabwe, 1, 99
Stopping Mass Killings in Africa

Genocide, Airpower, and Intervention

Air University Press Team

Chief Editor

Jim Howard

Copy Editor

Darlene H. Barnes

Cover Art and Book Design

Steven C. Garst

Illustrations

L. Susan Fair

Composition and

Prepress Production

Ann Bailey

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Mary J. Moore

Print Preparation

Joan Hickey

Distribution

Diane Clark