By Sara Elise Brown and Henry C. Theriault
“Blaming the victim” is a tried and true method of genocide
rationalization and denial, and has been used in case after case: “The
Jews” were against Germany to undermine it (by supposedly creating
“Bolshevism,” for instance, they had traitorously sold Germany out in
World War I, or had even declared “war” against Germany). Armenians were
in revolt, or were in league with the Russians against the Ottoman
Empire, or even were committing genocide against Turks and other
Muslims. Rwandan Tutsis were going to commit genocide against the Hutus
if they were not killed off first. Indigenous Guatemalans were in league
with leftist guerrillas and communists. Bosnians were committing mass
rape against Serbian women and were the military aggressors. Tasmanians
were killing English settlers’ livestock. The “Indians” were warlike
savages who went around scalping (an English invention, for use in
Ireland, by the way) any whites they could find, kidnapping and raping
European women, massacring innocent whites, and anything else colonists
could think of—that is, all of the atrocities that the Europeans were
committing against the Native Americans—including being soulless
heathens undermining Christianity.
Just as blaming the victim is a denial tactic, it is also a frequent
motivator for participation in a genocide. Part of the reason this
tactic is so popular with deniers is that it resonates with the
propaganda used by perpetrators to motivate participation in a genocide
itself. For instance, as Rwandan genocide survivor Yannick Tona
explains, one young Hutu man who was raised by his parents turned
against his family as a result of extremist propaganda that blamed the
Tutsis for their alleged violent and oppressive agenda against the
Hutus. Similarly, by blaming the victims for their real or perceived
threat, denialists go so far as to lay the blame for any acts of
violence squarely on the shoulders of the victims. No longer are the
victims blamed simply to rationalize violence that will be recognized as
the perpetrators’, but perpetrator violence itself is recast as if
perpetrated by the actual victims. Through shamelessly circular
reasoning, deniers’ own victim-blaming lends credence to documents
capturing the rhetoric that incited genocide in the first place, while
those sources lend credence to deniers’ arguments as “historical
evidence.”
The tactic is not unique to genocide and related mass violence, of
course. This month we learn that a girl in Maldives who was sexually
abused by her stepfather for years, a stepfather who murdered the baby
she bore as a result of his rapes, has been convicted of having sex
outside of marriage and will be whipped with 100 lashes (a horrifically
painful and quite possibly permanently disabling torture, for those used
to Hollywood glorifications of the whipping victim), while her demented
torturer faces no responsibility for his inhuman brutality against a
child. A recent rape in Steubenville, Ohio, is another illustration. In
that case, the victim of the sexual assaults documented on video is
being blamed for consuming alcohol and is, in the most predictable
fashion, being castigated for prior sexual conduct.
Sartre captures the depth of such blaming in Anti-Semite and Jew.
Even when the anti-Semite is confronted with a host of reasons for why
“the Jew” is not the contemptible creature s/he believes and why “the
Jew” is not “to blame,” the anti-Semite still maintains that there is
just “something” about Jews that s/he does not like, as if his/her
attitude is a reaction to an actual characteristic of “Jews” rather than
evidence of a groundless and irrational prejudice. It is something
about “the Jews” that causes the prejudices that victimize them, and
thus “the Jews” are at fault.
As incessant as blaming the victim is, however, it has long been
assumed that those committed to human rights were in struggle against
the strategy. But in recent years, a disturbing new trend has emerged in
genocide studies circles that has committed some scholars to academic
biases that blame victims in a way that might be worse than deniers’
historical falsifications, because it preemptively attacks members of
genocide victim groups. This is the new scholarship on “cycles of
violence.” Scholars such as René Lemarchand, Martin Shaw, and Cathy
Carmichael have been presenting analyses that construe contemporary mass
violence as the function of victims seeking revenge or reacting to past
mass violence, and future mass violence as the expected actions of
today’s victims. At the risk of simplifying complex analyses, they focus
their attention on the ways that former victim groups become
perpetrators of later mass violence. Some of these scholars attended,
for instance, the University of Antwerp’s otherwise strong experts’
workshop on genocide, hosted by the Universitair Centrum Sint Ignatius
Antwerpen in 2011.
For such scholars, there is something about being victimized that
causes victims to adopt perpetrator mentalities. The logic is similar to
the claim that individuals sexually or physically abused as children
are more likely to become abusers as adults. Surely, if one looks
carefully enough, one will find a history of abuse in the past of many
adult abusers. Amongst genocide scholars, this line of thinking leads to
the attribution of violent characteristics to victim groups. Quick to
follow is blame, or at the very least suspicions against the victim
groups, accusing them of perpetration of violence.
Many “cycles of violence” scholars have made valuable contributions
in the field of conflict prevention as well as post-violence
reconstruction and rehabilitation. In order to prevent recycling of the
violence, scholars inform activists, policy makers, and humanitarians on
strategies to rehabilitate, re-educate, and promote reconciliation
among the population.
While it is true, according to Barbara Harff ’s work, that regions
that experience inter-ethnic violence are significantly more likely to
experience a recurrence of the violence, this is not directly related to
the theories posited by “cycles of violence” scholars.
There are three major conceptual fallacies underlying their logic.
First, “cycles of violence” scholars root their findings in research
that emphasizes positive case studies, whereby instances of violence are
perpetrated by the victim group, and ignores negative cases, where the
cause of violence is not a result of victim groups. As a result, such
findings, buttressed by carefully selecting from positive case studies
and by disregarding negative case studies, do not provide a sound
foundation for critical social science research. To determine whether or
not there is actually a phenomenon of victims becoming perpetrators,
such scholars would need to look at all cases of victimization and then
compare the rates at which former victim groups commit mass violence to
the rates at which non-victim groups perpetrate. While the authors are
not aware of such a comprehensive study, a cursory reflection on the
available cases suggests that while some former victim groups become
perpetrators of later mass violence, victim groups do so at no greater
rate (and perhaps at a lower rate) than non-victim groups. If this is
so, then it is unlikely that their being victims is the key factor in
cases where victims do become perpetrators.
This raises the second methodological flaw in the “cycles of
violence” research. Believing wrongly that victim groups that perpetrate
violence are doing so because of their collective victimization ignores
victims groups that abstain from violence. In addition, this
oversimplification overlooks a more nuanced understanding of why
perpetrator groups participate in violence. It is not enough to state
that a group perpetrated violence because they were once a victim group.
“Cycles of violence” scholarship risks overlooking the complex
underlying mobilization and sensitization processes that occur and are
central to perpetration and, with it, opportunities for intervention and
prevention. Comparative research is likely to reveal a range of factors
that differentiate groups that commit mass violence from those that do
not, factors independent of victim status. In fact, it is highly likely
that similarities among perpetrator groups who were victims and those
who were not far outweigh relevant similarities among different victim
groups.
Third, this framework taps into and redeploys a standard prejudice
seen, for instance, in the general public when confronting endangered
species. We impose on victim groups an impossibly high standard and
exclude those who do not meet it from the roles of victims. In instances
of violence, human rights scholars and activists often engage with the
weakest and most disenfranchised of the population. This makes sense as
this group is most likely to be targeted. On the whole, it is difficult
to galvanize the international community on behalf of a stronger power; a
selective favoritism lies with the weak. In instances of genocide,
victim groups evoke sympathy, galvanizing aid and assistance. As many
have pointed out for years, just like endangered animals that are cute
and cuddly get most of the attention, while other species in just as
desperate situations are virtually ignored in popular movements, groups
that capture the hearts of the global community because of their
apparent unthreatening vulnerability and utter passivity (usually the
result of the force they are facing) are considered true victims, while
those that try to defend themselves, especially if they have even
moderate success, are excluded from support or consideration. Victim
groups selected for consideration are stripped of their agency and
expected, as beneficiaries, to receive, but not to act. Victims must
stay in this pre-set victim mold; they cannot progress too far or too
quickly. In some instances, when they take deliberate action to ensure
their security, activists, politicians, and scholars alike become
alarmed. Indeed, victim groups with members who advocate for historical
justice for the group are liable to be subject to a special variation of
Blame the Victims 2.0, the castigation of advocacy groups and
reparations movements as extremist nationalists. Self-advocacy, which
dominant groups and nation-states do routinely, is considered a vice for
weaker groups—precisely the groups who have the most change to advocate
for and are the least able to abuse their situation. The viewpoint also
threatens to devolve into the kind of logic of perpetual, timeless,
irrational ethno-national conflict—precisely the viewpoint that allowed
the U.S. government and press not only to ignore but also to avoid the
real reasons for genocide in the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda as they
occurred.
Rwanda is a frequently cited case study for “cycles of violence”
scholars and gives insight into the lens that mars their analysis.
Scholars appear almost uncomfortable with Rwanda’s progress since the
1994 genocide. This discomfort reached its apex after Rwanda’s
intervention in Congo; following the flight of many genocide
perpetrators into Congo and the resulting instability on their western
border, Rwanda took action, invading Congo, forcibly closing the refugee
camps along the border, and tracking many militia-members deep in
Congo. The killings that followed, primarily of fighting-age Hutu men,
likely constitute crimes of war. But unable to shake off the lens that
framed the 1994 genocide and its analysis, the “cycles of violence”
scholars and activists looked to the Rwandan military’s actions in Congo
and cried “genocide perpetrated by victims!”
They were unable to look beyond the victim label that has been
assigned Rwanda’s surviving Tutsi community. Therefore, the Rwandan
Patriotic Army’s incursion into Congo was not analyzed by “cycles of
violence” scholars as an act of invasion by one sovereign power into
another independent state. Instead it was oversimplified as
vengeance-taking by a victim group blinded by trauma and their own
victimization.
What is more, the focus on victims becoming perpetrators ignores the
real problem—that unless something substantive is done to address the
violence against the victims, the harms resulting from it, as well as
the attitudes and power of the perpetrator group, will further
marginalize and disenfranchise the victim group. Weakened socially,
economically, politically and culturally through acts of mass violence,
expropriation of property, rape, and other atrocities, the victim group
is vulnerable and liable to future victimization. All the while, the
perpetrator group, emboldened by impunity and strengthened by the gains
made through genocide, is in a position of strength and more likely to
commit mass violence.
Ultimately, scholars imposing the “cycles of violence” model favor
simplification through labeling instead of in-depth analysis that
recognizes the intricacies of mass violence. Genocide prevention and
intervention depends on a more nuanced framework. Effective mechanisms
for genocide prevention and intervention require understanding the
complex causes of mass violence, while efforts based on simplifications
have the potential to foster not only ineffective, but potentially
harmful, intervention and prevention efforts.
This article appeared in The Armenian Weekly April 2013 Magazine.
Sara E. Brown is a doctoral student at the Strassler Center for
Holocaust and Genocide Studies at Clark University. Her current
research examines female agency during the Rwandan Genocide against the
Tutsi.
Henry C. Theriault earned his Ph.D. in philosophy from the
University of Massachusetts. He is currently professor in the
philosophy department at Worcester State University. Since 2007, he has
served as co-editor-in-chief of the peer-reviewed journal “Genocide
Studies and Prevention.”
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
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